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diff --git a/3649-h/3649-h.htm b/3649-h/3649-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8ac1677 --- /dev/null +++ b/3649-h/3649-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,18116 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + The Dwelling-place of Light, by Winston Churchill + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd7; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Dwelling Place of Light, Complete +by Winston Churchill +[Author is the American Winston Churchill not the British] + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Dwelling Place of Light, Complete + +Author: Winston Churchill + +Release Date: October 5, 2006 [EBook #3649] +Last Updated: February 26, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DWELLING PLACE OF LIGHT, *** + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + + <h1> + THE DWELLING-PLACE OF LIGHT + </h1> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Winston Churchill + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h3> + 1917 + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI </a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I + </h2> + <p> + In this modern industrial civilization of which we are sometimes wont to + boast, a certain glacier-like process may be observed. The bewildered, the + helpless—and there are many—are torn from the parent rock, + crushed, rolled smooth, and left stranded in strange places. Thus was + Edward Bumpus severed and rolled from the ancestral ledge, from the firm + granite of seemingly stable and lasting things, into shifting shale; + surrounded by fragments of cliffs from distant lands he had never seen. + Thus, at five and fifty, he found himself gate-keeper of the leviathan + Chippering Mill in the city of Hampton. + </p> + <p> + That the polyglot, smoky settlement sprawling on both sides of an historic + river should be a part of his native New England seemed at times to be a + hideous dream; nor could he comprehend what had happened to him, and to + the world of order and standards and religious sanctions into which he had + been born. His had been a life of relinquishments. For a long time he had + clung to the institution he had been taught to believe was the rock of + ages, the Congregational Church, finally to abandon it; even that assuming + a form fantastic and unreal, as embodied in the edifice three blocks + distant from Fillmore Street which he had attended for a brief time, some + ten years before, after his arrival in Hampton. The building, indeed, was + symbolic of a decadent and bewildered Puritanism in its pathetic attempt + to keep abreast with the age, to compromise with anarchy, merely achieving + a nondescript medley of rounded, knob-like towers covered with + mulberry-stained shingles. And the minister was sensational and dramatic. + He looked like an actor, he aroused in Edward Bumpus an inherent prejudice + that condemned the stage. Half a block from this tabernacle stood a Roman + Catholic Church, prosperous, brazen, serene, flaunting an eternal + permanence amidst the chaos which had succeeded permanence! + </p> + <p> + There were, to be sure, other Protestant churches where Edward Bumpus and + his wife might have gone. One in particular, which he passed on his way to + the mill, with its terraced steeple and classic facade, preserved all the + outward semblance of the old Order that once had seemed so enduring and + secure. He hesitated to join the decorous and dwindling congregation,—the + remains of a social stratum from which he had been pried loose; and—more + irony—this street, called Warren, of arching elms and white-gabled + houses, was now the abiding place of those prosperous Irish who had moved + thither from the tenements and ruled the city. + </p> + <p> + On just such a street in the once thriving New England village of Dolton + had Edward been born. In Dolton Bumpus was once a name of names, rooted + there since the seventeenth century, and if you had cared to listen he + would have told you, in a dialect precise but colloquial, the history of a + family that by right of priority and service should have been destined to + inherit the land, but whose descendants were preserved to see it delivered + to the alien. The God of Cotton Mather and Jonathan Edwards had been tried + in the balance and found wanting. Edward could never understand this; or + why the Universe, so long static and immutable, had suddenly begun to + move. He had always been prudent, but in spite of youthful “advantages,” + of an education, so called, from a sectarian college on a hill, he had + never been taught that, while prudence may prosper in a static world, it + is a futile virtue in a dynamic one. Experience even had been powerless to + impress this upon him. For more than twenty years after leaving college he + had clung to a clerkship in a Dolton mercantile establishment before he + felt justified in marrying Hannah, the daughter of Elmer Wench, when the + mercantile establishment amalgamated with a rival—and Edward's + services were no longer required. During the succession of precarious + places with decreasing salaries he had subsequently held a terrified sense + of economic pressure had gradually crept over him, presently growing + strong enough, after two girls had arrived, to compel the abridgment of + the family....It would be painful to record in detail the cracking-off + process, the slipping into shale, the rolling, the ending up in Hampton, + where Edward had now for some dozen years been keeper of one of the gates + in the frowning brick wall bordering the canal,—a position obtained + for him by a compassionate but not too prudent childhood friend who had + risen in life and knew the agent of the Chippering Mill, Mr. Claude + Ditmar. Thus had virtue failed to hold its own. + </p> + <p> + One might have thought in all these years he had sat within the gates + staring at the brick row of the company's boarding houses on the opposite + bank of the canal that reflection might have brought a certain degree of + enlightenment. It was not so. The fog of Edward's bewilderment never + cleared, and the unformed question was ever clamouring for an answer—how + had it happened? Job's cry. How had it happened to an honest and virtuous + man, the days of whose forebears had been long in the land which the Lord + their God had given them? Inherently American, though lacking the saving + quality of push that had been the making of men like Ditmar, he never + ceased to regard with resentment and distrust the hordes of foreigners + trooping between the pillars, though he refrained from expressing these + sentiments in public; a bent, broad shouldered, silent man of that + unmistakable physiognomy which, in the seventeenth century, almost wholly + deserted the old England for the new. The ancestral features were there, + the lips—covered by a grizzled moustache moulded for the precise + formation that emphasizes such syllables as el, the hooked nose and sallow + cheeks, the grizzled brows and grey eyes drawn down at the corners. But + for all its ancestral strength of feature, it was a face from which will + had been extracted, and lacked the fire and fanaticism, the indomitable + hardness it should have proclaimed, and which have been so + characteristically embodied in Mr. St. Gaudens's statue of the Puritan. + His clothes were slightly shabby, but always neat. + </p> + <p> + Little as one might have guessed it, however, what may be called a certain + transmuted enthusiasm was alive in him. He had a hobby almost amounting to + an obsession, not uncommon amongst Americans who have slipped downward in + the social scale. It was the Bumpus Family in America. He collected + documents about his ancestors and relations, he wrote letters with a fine, + painful penmanship on a ruled block he bought at Hartshorne's drug store + to distant Bumpuses in Kansas and Illinois and Michigan, common + descendants of Ebenezer, the original immigrant, of Dolton. Many of these + western kinsmen answered: not so the magisterial Bumpus who lived in + Boston on the water side of Beacon, whom likewise he had ventured to + address,—to the indignation and disgust of his elder daughter, + Janet. + </p> + <p> + “Why are you so proud of Ebenezer?” she demanded once, scornfully. + </p> + <p> + “Why? Aren't we descended from him?” + </p> + <p> + “How many generations?” + </p> + <p> + “Seven,” said Edward, promptly, emphasizing the last syllable. + </p> + <p> + Janet was quick at figures. She made a mental calculation. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you've got one hundred and twenty-seven other ancestors of + Ebenezer's time, haven't you?” + </p> + <p> + Edward was a little surprised. He had never thought of this, but his + ardour for Ebenezer remained undampened. Genealogy—his own—had + become his religion, and instead of going to church he spent his Sunday + mornings poring over papers of various degrees of discolouration, making + careful notes on the ruled block. + </p> + <p> + This consciousness of his descent from good American stock that had + somehow been deprived of its heritage, while a grievance to him, was also + a comfort. It had a compensating side, in spite of the lack of sympathy of + his daughters and his wife. Hannah Bumpus took the situation more grimly: + she was a logical projection in a new environment of the religious + fatalism of ancestors whose God was a God of vengeance. She did not + concern herself as to what all this vengeance was about; life was a trap + into which all mortals walked sooner or later, and her particular trap had + a treadmill,—a round of household duties she kept whirling with an + energy that might have made their fortunes if she had been the head of the + family. It is bad to be a fatalist unless one has an incontrovertible + belief in one's destiny,—which Hannah had not. But she kept the + little flat with its worn furniture,—which had known so many + journeys—as clean as a merchant ship of old Salem, and when it was + scoured and dusted to her satisfaction she would sally forth to + Bonnaccossi's grocery and provision store on the corner to do her + bargaining in competition with the Italian housewives of the neighborhood. + She was wont, indeed, to pause outside for a moment, her quick eye + encompassing the coloured prints of red and yellow jellies cast in rounded + moulds, decked with slices of orange, the gaudy boxes of cereals and + buckwheat flour, the “Brookfield” eggs in packages. Significant, this + modern package system, of an era of flats with little storage space. She + took in at a glance the blue lettered placard announcing the current price + of butterine, and walked around to the other side of the store, on Holmes + Street, where the beef and bacon hung, where the sidewalk stands were + filled, in the autumn, with cranberries, apples, cabbages, and spinach. + </p> + <p> + With little outer complaint she had adapted herself to the constantly + lowering levels to which her husband had dropped, and if she hoped that in + Fillmore Street they had reached bottom, she did not say so. Her + unbetrayed regret was for the loss of what she would have called + “respectability”; and the giving up, long ago, in the little city which + had been their home, of the servant girl had been the first wrench. Until + they came to Hampton they had always lived in houses, and her adaptation + to a flat had been hard—a flat without a parlour. Hannah Bumpus + regarded a parlour as necessary to a respectable family as a wedding ring + to a virtuous woman. Janet and Lise would be growing up, there would be + young men, and no place to see them save the sidewalks. The fear that + haunted her came true, and she never was reconciled. The two girls went to + the public schools, and afterwards, inevitably, to work, and it seemed to + be a part of her punishment for the sins of her forefathers that she had + no more control over them than if they had been boarders; while she looked + on helplessly, they did what they pleased; Janet, whom she never + understood, was almost as much a source of apprehension as Lise, who + became part and parcel of all Hannah deemed reprehensible in this new + America which she refused to recognize and acknowledge as her own country. + </p> + <p> + To send them through the public schools had been a struggle. Hannah used + to lie awake nights wondering what would happen if Edward became sick. It + worried her that they never saved any money: try as she would to cut the + expenses down, there was a limit of decency; New England thrift, hitherto + justly celebrated, was put to shame by that which the foreigners + displayed, and which would have delighted the souls of gentlemen of the + Manchester school. Every once in a while there rose up before her fabulous + instances of this thrift, of Italians and Jews who, ignorant emigrants, + had entered the mills only a few years before they, the Bumpuses, had come + to Hampton, and were now independent property owners. Still rankling in + Hannah's memory was a day when Lise had returned from school, dark and + mutinous, with a tale of such a family. One of the younger children was a + classmate. + </p> + <p> + “They live on Jordan Street in a house, and Laura has roller skates. I + don't see why I can't.” + </p> + <p> + This was one of the occasions on which Hannah had given vent to her + indignation. Lise was fourteen. Her open rebellion was less annoying than + Janet's silent reproach, but at least she had something to take hold of. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Lise,” she said, shifting the saucepan to another part of the + stove, “I guess if your father and I had put both you girls in the mills + and crowded into one room and cooked in a corner, and lived on onions and + macaroni, and put four boarders each in the other rooms, I guess we could + have had a house, too. We can start in right now, if you're willing.” + </p> + <p> + But Lise had only looked darker. + </p> + <p> + “I don't see why father can't make money—other men do.” + </p> + <p> + “Isn't he working as hard as he can to send you to school, and give you a + chance?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't want that kind of a chance. There's Sadie Howard at school—she + don't have to work. She liked me before she found out where I lived...” + </p> + <p> + There was an element of selfishness in Hannah's mania for keeping busy, + for doing all their housework and cooking herself. She could not bear to + have her daughters interfere; perhaps she did not want to give herself + time to think. Her affection for Edward, such as it was, her loyalty to + him, was the logical result of a conviction ingrained in early youth that + marriage was an indissoluble bond; a point of views once having a + religious sanction, no less powerful now that—all unconsciously—it + had deteriorated into a superstition. Hannah, being a fatalist, was not + religious. The beliefs of other days, when she had donned her best dress + and gone to church on Sundays, had simply lapsed and left—habits. No + new beliefs had taken their place.... + </p> + <p> + Even after Janet and Lise had gone to work the household never seemed to + gain that margin of safety for which Hannah yearned. Always, when they + were on the verge of putting something by, some untoward need or accident + seemed to arise on purpose to swallow it up: Edward, for instance, had + been forced to buy a new overcoat, the linoleum on the dining-room floor + must be renewed, and Lise had had a spell of sickness, losing her position + in a flower shop. Afterwards, when she became a saleslady in the + Bagatelle, that flamboyant department store in Faber Street, she earned + four dollars and a half a week. Two of these were supposed to go into the + common fund, but there were clothes to buy; Lise loved finery, and Hannah + had not every week the heart to insist. Even when, on an occasional + Saturday night the girl somewhat consciously and defiantly flung down the + money on the dining-room table she pretended not to notice it. But Janet, + who was earning six dollars as a stenographer in the office of the + Chippering Mill, regularly gave half of hers. + </p> + <p> + The girls could have made more money as operatives, but strangely enough + in the Bumpus family social hopes were not yet extinct. + </p> + <p> + Sharply, rudely, the cold stillness of the winter mornings was broken by + agitating waves of sound, penetrating the souls of sleepers. Janet would + stir, her mind still lingering on some dream, soon to fade into the + inexpressible, in which she had been near to the fulfilment of a heart's + desire. Each morning, as the clamour grew louder, there was an interval of + bewilderment, of revulsion, until the realization came of mill bells + swinging in high cupolas above the river,—one rousing another. She + could even distinguish the bells: the deep-toned, penetrating one belonged + to the Patuxent Mill, over on the west side, while the Arundel had a high, + ominous reverberation like a fire bell. When at last the clangings had + ceased she would lie listening to the overtones throbbing in the air, high + and low, high and low; lie shrinking, awaiting the second summons that + never failed to terrify, the siren of the Chippering Mill,—to her + the cry of an insistent, hungry monster demanding its daily food, the + symbol of a stern, ugly, and unrelenting necessity. + </p> + <p> + Beside her in the bed she could feel the soft body of her younger sister + cuddling up to her in fright. In such rare moments as this her heart + melted towards Lise, and she would fling a protecting arm about her. A + sense of Lise's need of protection invaded her, a sharp conviction, like a + pang, that Lise was destined to wander: Janet was never so conscious of + the feeling as in this dark hour, though it came to her at other times, + when they were not quarreling. Quarreling seemed to be the normal reaction + between them. + </p> + <p> + It was Janet, presently, who would get up, shivering, close the window, + and light the gas, revealing the room which the two girls shared together. + Against the middle of one wall was the bed, opposite this a travel-dented + walnut bureau with a marble top, with an oval mirror into which were stuck + numerous magazine portraits of the masculine and feminine talent adorning + the American stage, a preponderance of the music hall variety. There were + pictures of other artists whom the recondite would have recognized as + “movie” stars, amazing yet veridic stories of whose wealth Lise read in + the daily press: all possessed limousines—an infallible proof, to + Lise, of the measure of artistic greatness. Between one of these movie + millionaires and an ex-legitimate lady who now found vaudeville profitable + was wedged the likeness of a popular idol whose connection with the + footlights would doubtless be contingent upon a triumphant acquittal at + the hands of a jury of her countrymen, and whose trial for murder, in + Chicago, was chronicled daily in thousands of newspapers and followed by + Lise with breathless interest and sympathy. She was wont to stare at this + lady while dressing and exclaim:—“Say, I hope they put it all over + that district attorney!” + </p> + <p> + To such sentiments, though deeply felt by her sister, Janet remained cold, + though she was, as will be seen, capable of enthusiasms. Lise was a truer + daughter of her time and country in that she had the national contempt for + law, was imbued with the American hero-worship of criminals that caused + the bombardment of Cora Wellman's jail with candy, fruit and flowers and + impassioned letters. Janet recalled there had been others before Mrs. + Wellman, caught within the meshes of the law, who had incited in her + sister a similar partisanship. + </p> + <p> + It was Lise who had given the note of ornamentation to the bedroom. + Against the cheap faded lilac and gold wall-paper were tacked + photo-engravings that had taken the younger sister's fancy: a young man + and woman, clad in scanty bathing suits, seated side by side in a + careening sail boat,—the work of a popular illustrator whose manly + and womanly “types” had become national ideals. + </p> + <p> + There were other drawings, if not all by the same hand, at least by the + same school; one, sketched in bold strokes, of a dinner party in a stately + neo-classic dining-room, the table laden with flowers and silver, the + bare-throated women with jewels. A more critical eye than Lise's, gazing + upon this portrayal of the Valhalla of success, might have detected in the + young men, immaculate in evening dress, a certain effort to feel at home, + to converse naturally, which their square jaws and square shoulders + belied. This was no doubt the fault of the artist's models, who had failed + to live up to the part. At any rate, the sight of these young gods of + leisure, the contemplation of the stolid butler and plush footmen in the + background never failed to make Lise's heart beat faster. + </p> + <p> + On the marble of the bureau amidst a litter of toilet articles, and bought + by Lise for a quarter at the Bagatelle bargain counter, was an oval + photograph frame from which the silver wash had begun to rub off, and the + band of purple velvet inside the metal had whitened. The frame always + contained the current object of Lise's affections, though the exhibits—as + Janet said—were subject to change without notice. The Adonis who now + reigned had black hair cut in the prevailing Hampton fashion, very long in + front and hanging down over his eyes like a Scottish terrier's; very long + behind, too, but ending suddenly, shaved in a careful curve at the neck + and around the ears. It had almost the appearance of a Japanese wig. The + manly beauty of Mr. Max Wylie was of the lantern-jawed order, and in his + photograph he conveyed the astonished and pained air of one who has been + suddenly seized by an invisible officer of the law from behind. This + effect, one presently perceived, was due to the high, stiff collar, the + “Torture Brand,” Janet called it, when she and her sister were engaged in + one of their frequent controversies about life in general: the obvious + retort to this remark, which Lise never failed to make, was that Janet + could boast of no beaux at all. + </p> + <p> + It is only fair to add that the photograph scarcely did Mr. Wylie justice. + In real life he did not wear the collar, he was free and easy in his + manners, sure of his powers of conquest. As Lise observed, he had made a + home-run with her at Slattery's Riverside Park. “Sadie Hartmann was sure + sore when I tangoed off with him,” she would observe reminiscently.... + </p> + <p> + It was Lise's habit to slight her morning toilet, to linger until the last + minute in bed, which she left in reluctant haste to stand before the + bureau frantically combing out kinks of the brown hair falling over her + shoulders before jamming it down across her forehead in the latest mode. + Thus occupied, she revealed a certain petulant beauty. Like the majority + of shop-girls, she was small, but her figure was good, her skin white; her + discontented mouth gave her the touch of piquancy apt to play havoc with + the work of the world. In winter breakfast was eaten by the light of a + rococo metal lamp set in the centre of the table. This was to save gas. + There was usually a rump steak and potatoes, bread and “creamery” + butterine, and the inevitable New England doughnuts. At six thirty the + whistles screeched again,—a warning note, the signal for Edward's + departure; and presently, after a brief respite, the heavy bells once more + began their clamour, not to die down until ten minutes of seven, when the + last of the stragglers had hurried through the mill gates. + </p> + <p> + The Bumpus flat included the second floor of a small wooden house whose + owner had once been evilly inspired to paint it a livid clay-yellow—as + though insisting that ugliness were an essential attribute of domesticity. + A bay ran up the two stories, and at the left were two narrow doorways, + one for each flat. On the right the house was separated from its neighbour + by a narrow interval, giving but a precarious light to the two middle + rooms, the diningroom and kitchen. The very unattractiveness of such a + home, however, had certain compensations for Janet, after the effort of + early rising had been surmounted, felt a real relief in leaving it; a + relief, too, in leaving Fillmore Street, every feature of which was + indelibly fixed in her mind, opposite was the blind brick face of a + warehouse, and next to that the converted dwelling house that held the + shop of A. Bauer, with the familiar replica of a green ten-cent trading + stamp painted above it and the somewhat ironical announcement—when + boar frost whitened the pavement—that ice-cold soda was to be had + within, as well as cigars and tobacco, fruit and candy. Then came a + tenement, under which two enterprising Greeks by the name of Pappas—spelled + Papas lower down—conducted a business called “The Gentleman,” a + tailoring, pressing, and dyeing establishment. Janet could see the + brilliantined black heads of the two proprietors bending over their + boards, and sometimes they would be lifted to smile at her as she passed. + The Pappas Brothers were evidently as happy in this drab environment as + they had ever been on the sunny mountain slopes of Hellas, and Janet + sometimes wondered at this, for she had gathered from her education in the + Charming public school that Greece was beautiful. + </p> + <p> + She was one of the unfortunate who love beauty, who are condemned to dwell + in exile, unacquainted with what they love. Desire was incandescent within + her breast. Desire for what? It would have been some relief to know. She + could not, like Lise, find joy and forgetfulness at dance halls, at the + “movies,” at Slattery's Riverside Park in summer, in “joy rides” with the + Max Wylies of Hampton. And beside, the Max Wylies were afraid of her. If + at times she wished for wealth, it was because wealth held the magic of + emancipation from surroundings against which her soul revolted. Vividly + idealized but unconfided was the memory of a seaside village, the scene of + one of the brief sojourns of her childhood, where the air was fragrant + with the breath of salt marshes, where she recalled, through the vines of + a porch, a shining glimpse of the sea at the end of a little street.... + </p> + <p> + Next to Pappas Brothers was the grey wooden building of Mule Spinners' + Hall, that elite organization of skilled labour, and underneath it the + store of Johnny Tiernan, its windows piled up with stoves and stovepipes, + sheet iron and cooking utensils. Mr. Tiernan, like the Greeks, was happy, + too: unlike the Greeks, he never appeared to be busy, and yet he throve. + He was very proud of the business in which he had invested his savings, + but he seemed to have other affairs lying blithely on his mind, affairs of + moment to the community, as the frequent presence of the huge policemen, + aldermen, and other important looking persons bore witness. He hailed by + name Italians, Greeks, Belgians, Syrians, and “French”; he hailed Janet, + too, with respectful cheerfulness, taking off his hat. He possessed the + rare, warm vitality that is irresistible. A native of Hampton, still in + his thirties, his sharp little nose and twinkling blue eyes proclaimed the + wisdom that is born and not made; his stiff hair had a twist like the + bristles in the cleaning rod of a gun. + </p> + <p> + He gave Janet the odd impression that he understood her. And she did not + understand herself! + </p> + <p> + By the time she reached the Common the winter sun, as though red from + exertion, had begun to dispel the smoke and heavy morning mists. She + disliked winter, the lumpy brown turf mildewed by the frost, but one day + she was moved by a quality, hitherto unsuspected, in the delicate tracery + against the sky made by the slender branches of the great elms and maples. + She halted on the pavement, her eyes raised, heedless of passers-by, + feeling within her a throb of the longing that could be so oddly and + unexpectedly aroused. + </p> + <p> + Her way lay along Faber Street, the main artery of Hampton, a wide strip + of asphalt threaded with car tracks, lined on both sides with incongruous + edifices indicative of a rapid, undiscriminating, and artless prosperity. + There were long stretches of “ten foot” buildings, so called on account of + the single story, their height deceptively enhanced by the superimposition + of huge and gaudy signs, one on top of another, announcing the merits of + “Stewart's Amberine Ale,” of “Cooley's Oats, the Digestible Breakfast + Food,” of graphophones and “spring heeled” shoes, tobacco, and naphtha + soaps. “No, We don't give Trading Stamps, Our Products are Worth all You + Pay.” These “ten foot” stores were the repositories of pianos, + automobiles, hardware, and millinery, and interspersed amongst them were + buildings of various heights; The Bagatelle, where Lise worked, the Wilmot + Hotel, office buildings, and an occasional relic of old Hampton, like that + housing the Banner. Here, during those months when the sun made the + asphalt soft, on a scaffolding spanning the window of the store, might be + seen a perspiring young man in his shirt sleeves chalking up baseball + scores for the benefit of a crowd below. Then came the funereal, + liver-coloured, long-windowed Hinckley Block (1872), and on the corner a + modern, glorified drugstore thrusting forth plate glass bays—two on + Faber Street and three on Stanley—filled with cameras and candy, hot + water bags, throat sprays, catarrh and kidney cures, calendars, fountain + pens, stationery, and handy alcohol lamps. Flanking the sidewalks, + symbolizing and completing the heterogeneous and bewildering effect of the + street were long rows of heavy hemlock trunks, unpainted and stripped of + bark, with crosstrees bearing webs of wires. Trolley cars rattled along, + banging their gongs, trucks rumbled across the tracks, automobiles uttered + frenzied screeches behind startled pedestrians. Janet was always + galvanized into alertness here, Faber Street being no place to dream. By + night an endless procession moved up one sidewalk and down another, + staring hypnotically at the flash-in and flash-out electric, signs that + kept the breakfast foods and ales, the safety razors, soaps, and soups + incessantly in the minds of a fickle public. + </p> + <p> + Two blocks from Faber Street was the North Canal, with a granite-paved + roadway between it and the monotonous row of company boarding houses. Even + in bright weather Janet felt a sense of oppression here; on dark, misty + mornings the stern, huge battlements of the mills lining the farther bank + were menacing indeed, bristling with projections, towers, and chimneys, + flanked by heavy walls. Had her experience included Europe, her + imagination might have seized the medieval parallel,—the arched + bridges flung at intervals across the water, lacking only chains to raise + them in case of siege. The place was always ominously suggestive of + impending strife. Janet's soul was a sensitive instrument, but she + suffered from an inability to find parallels, and thus to translate her + impressions intellectually. Her feeling about the mills was that they were + at once fortress and prison, and she a slave driven thither day after day + by an all-compelling power; as much a slave as those who trooped in + through the gates in the winter dawn, and wore down, four times a day, the + oak treads of the circular tower stairs. + </p> + <p> + The sound of the looms was like heavy rain hissing on the waters of the + canal. + </p> + <p> + The administrative offices of a giant mill such as the Chippering in + Hampton are labyrinthine. Janet did not enter by the great gates her + father kept, but walked through an open courtyard into a vestibule where, + day and night, a watchman stood; she climbed iron-shod stairs, passed the + doorway leading to the paymaster's suite, to catch a glimpse, behind the + grill, of numerous young men settling down at those mysterious and + complicated machines that kept so unerring a record, in dollars and cents, + of the human labour of the operatives. There were other suites for the + superintendents, for the purchasing agent; and at the end of the corridor, + on the south side of the mill, she entered the outer of the two rooms + reserved for Mr. Claude Ditmar, the Agent and general-in-chief himself of + this vast establishment. In this outer office, behind the rail that ran + the length of it, Janet worked; from the window where her typewriter stood + was a sheer drop of eighty feet or so to the river, which ran here swiftly + through a wide canon whose sides were formed by miles and miles of mills, + built on buttressed stone walls to retain the banks. The prison-like + buildings on the farther shore were also of colossal size, casting their + shadows far out into the waters; while in the distance, up and down the + stream, could be seen the delicate web of the Stanley and Warren Street + bridges, with trolley cars like toys gliding over them, with insect + pedestrians creeping along the footpaths. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Ditmar's immediate staff consisted of Mr. Price, an elderly bachelor + of tried efficiency whose peculiar genius lay in computation, of a young + Mr. Caldwell who, during the four years since he had left Harvard, had + been learning the textile industry, of Miss Ottway, and Janet. Miss Ottway + was the agent's private stenographer, a strongly built, capable woman with + immense reserves seemingly inexhaustible. She had a deep, masculine voice, + not unmusical, the hint of a masculine moustache, a masculine manner of + taking to any job that came to hand. Nerves were things unknown to her: + she was granite, Janet tempered steel. Janet was the second stenographer, + and performed, besides, any odd tasks that might be assigned. + </p> + <p> + There were, in the various offices of the superintendents, the paymaster + and purchasing agent, other young women stenographers whose companionship + Janet, had she been differently organized, might have found congenial, but + something in her refused to dissolve to their proffered friendship. She + had but one friend,—if Eda Rawle, who worked in a bank, and whom she + had met at a lunch counter by accident, may be called so. As has been + admirably said in another language, one kisses, the other offers a cheek: + Janet offered the cheek. All unconsciously she sought a relationship + rarely to be found in banks and business offices; would yield herself to + none other. The young women stenographers in the Chippering Mill, + respectable, industrious girls, were attracted by a certain indefinable + quality, but finding they made no progress in their advances, presently + desisted they were somewhat afraid of her; as one of them remarked, “You + always knew she was there.” Miss Lottie Meyers, who worked in the office + of Mr. Orcutt, the superintendent across the hall, experienced a brief + infatuation that turned to hate. She chewed gum incessantly, Janet found + her cheap perfume insupportable; Miss Meyers, for her part, declared that + Janet was “queer” and “stuck up,” thought herself better than the rest of + them. Lottie Meyers was the leader of a group of four or five which + gathered in the hallway at the end of the noon hour to enter animatedly + into a discussion of waists, hats, and lingerie, to ogle and exchange + persiflages with the young men of the paymaster's corps, to giggle, to + relate, sotto voce, certain stories that ended invariably in hysterical + laughter. Janet detested these conversations. And the sex question, subtly + suggested if not openly dealt with, to her was a mystery over which she + did not dare to ponder, terrible, yet too sacred to be degraded. Her + feelings, concealed under an exterior of self-possession, deceptive to the + casual observer, sometimes became molten, and she was frightened by a + passion that made her tremble—a passion by no means always + consciously identified with men, embodying all the fierce unexpressed and + unsatisfied desires of her life. + </p> + <p> + These emotions, often suggested by some hint of beauty, as of the sun + glinting on the river on a bright blue day, had a sudden way of possessing + her, and the longing they induced was pain. Longing for what? For some + unimagined existence where beauty dwelt, and light, where the ecstasy + induced by these was neither moiled nor degraded; where shame, as now, + might not assail her. Why should she feel her body hot with shame, her + cheeks afire? At such moments she would turn to the typewriter, her + fingers striking the keys with amazing rapidity, with extraordinary + accuracy and force,—force vaguely disturbing to Mr. Claude Ditmar as + he entered the office one morning and involuntarily paused to watch her. + She was unaware of his gaze, but her colour was like a crimson signal that + flashed to him and was gone. Why had he never noticed her before? All + these months, for more than a year, perhaps,—she had been in his + office, and he had not so much as looked at her twice. The unguessed + answer was that he had never surprised her in a vivid moment. He had a + flair for women, though he had never encountered any possessing the higher + values, and it was characteristic of the plane of his mental processes + that this one should remind him now of a dark, lithe panther, tensely + strung, capable of fierceness. The pain of having her scratch him would be + delectable. + </p> + <p> + When he measured her it was to discover that she was not so little, and + the shoulder-curve of her uplifted arms, as her fingers played over the + keys, seemed to belie that apparent slimness. And had he not been + unacquainted with the subtleties of the French mind and language, he might + have classed her as a fausse maigre. Her head was small, her hair like a + dark, blurred shadow clinging round it. He wanted to examine her hair, to + see whether it would not betray, at closer range, an imperceptible wave,—but + not daring to linger he went into his office, closed the door, and sat + down with a sensation akin to weakness, somewhat appalled by his + discovery, considerably amazed at his previous stupidity. He had thought + of Janet—when she had entered his mind at all—as unobtrusive, + demure; now he recognized this demureness as repression. Her qualities + needed illumination, and he, Claude Ditmar, had seen them struck with + fire. He wondered whether any other man had been as fortunate. + </p> + <p> + Later in the morning, quite casually, he made inquiries of Miss Ottway, + who liked Janet and was willing to do her a good turn. + </p> + <p> + “Why, she's a clever girl, Mr. Ditmar, a good stenographer, and + conscientious in her work. She's very quick, too. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I've noticed that,” Ditmar replied, who was quite willing to have it + thought that his inquiry was concerned with Janet's aptitude for business. + </p> + <p> + “She keeps to herself and minds her own affairs. You can see she comes of + good stock.” Miss Ottway herself was proud of her New England blood. “Her + father, you know, is the gatekeeper down there. He's been unfortunate.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't say—I didn't connect her with him. Fine looking old man. + A friend of mine who recommended him told me he'd seen better days....” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II + </h2> + <p> + In spite of the surprising discovery in his office of a young woman of + such a disquieting, galvanic quality, it must not be supposed that Mr. + Claude Ditmar intended to infringe upon a fixed principle. He had + principles. For him, as for the patriarchs and householders of Israel, the + seventh commandment was only relative, yet hitherto he had held rigidly to + that relativity, laying down the sound doctrine that women and business + would not mix: or, as he put it to his intimates, no sensible man would + fool with a girl in his office. Hence it may be implied that Mr. Ditmar's + experiences with the opposite sex had been on a property basis. He was one + of those busy and successful persons who had never appreciated or acquired + the art of quasi-platonic amenities, whose idea of a good time was limited + to discreet excursions with cronies, likewise busy and successful persons + who, by reason of having married early and unwisely, are strangers to the + delights of that higher social intercourse chronicled in novels and the + public prints. If one may conveniently overlook the joys of a + companionship of the soul, it is quite as possible to have a taste in + women as in champagne or cigars. Mr. Ditmar preferred blondes, and he + liked them rather stout, a predilection that had led him into matrimony + with a lady of this description: a somewhat sticky, candy-eating lady with + a mania for card parties, who undoubtedly would have dyed her hair if she + had lived. He was not inconsolable, but he had had enough of marriage to + learn that it demands a somewhat exorbitant price for joys otherwise more + reasonably to be obtained. + </p> + <p> + He was left a widower with two children, a girl of thirteen and a boy of + twelve, both somewhat large for their ages. Amy attended the only private + institution for the instruction of her sex of which Hampton could boast; + George continued at a public school. The late Mrs. Ditmar for some years + before her demise had begun to give evidence of certain restless + aspirations to which American ladies of her type and situation seem + peculiarly liable, and with a view to their ultimate realization she had + inaugurated a Jericho-like campaign. Death had released Ditmar from its + increasing pressure. For his wife had possessed that admirable substitute + for character, persistence, had been expert in the use of importunity, + often an efficient weapon in the hands of the female economically + dependent. The daughter of a defunct cashier of the Hampton National Bank, + when she had married Ditmar, then one of the superintendents of the + Chippering and already a marked man, she had deemed herself fortunate + among women, looking forward to a life of ease and idleness and candy in + great abundance,—a dream temporarily shattered by the unforeseen + discomfort of bringing two children into the world, with an interval of + scarcely a year between them. Her parents from an excess of native modesty + having failed to enlighten her on this subject, her feelings were those of + outraged astonishment, and she was quite determined not to repeat the + experience a third time. Knowledge thus belatedly acquired, for a while + she abandoned herself to the satisfaction afforded by the ability to take + a commanding position in Hampton society, gradually to become aware of the + need of a more commodious residence. In a certain kind of intuition she + was rich. Her husband had meanwhile become Agent of the Chippering Mill, + and she strongly suspected that his prudent reticence on the state of his + finances was the best indication of an increasing prosperity. He had + indeed made money, been given many opportunities for profitable + investments; but the argument for social pre-eminence did not appeal to + him: tears and reproaches, recriminations, when frequently applied, + succeeded better; like many married men, what he most desired was to be + let alone; but in some unaccountable way she had come to suspect that his + preference for blondes was of a more liberal nature than at first, in her + innocence, she had realized. She was jealous, too, of his cronies, in + spite of the fact that these gentlemen, when they met her, treated her + with an elaborate politeness; and she accused him with entire justice of + being more intimate with them than with her, with whom he was united in + holy bonds. The inevitable result of these tactics was the modern mansion + in the upper part of Warren Street, known as the “residential” district. + Built on a wide lot, with a garage on one side to the rear, with a cement + driveway divided into squares, and a wall of democratic height separating + its lawn from the sidewalk, the house may for the present be better + imagined than described. + </p> + <p> + A pious chronicler of a more orthodox age would doubtless have deemed it a + judgment that Cora Ditmar survived but two years to enjoy the glories of + the Warren Street house. For a while her husband indulged in a foolish + optimism, only to learn that the habit of matrimonial blackmail, once + acquired, is not easily shed. Scarcely had he settled down to the belief + that by the gratification of her supreme desire he had achieved + comparative peace, than he began to suspect her native self-confidence of + cherishing visions of a career contemplating nothing less than the + eventual abandonment of Hampton itself as a field too limited for her + social talents and his business ability and bank account—at which + she was pleased to hint. Hampton suited Ditmar, his passion was the + Chippering Mill; and he was in process of steeling himself to resist, + whatever the costs, this preposterous plan when he was mercifully released + by death. Her intention of sending the children away to acquire a culture + and finish Hampton did not afford,—George to Silliston Academy, Amy + to a fashionable boarding school,—he had not opposed, yet he did not + take the idea with sufficient seriousness to carry it out. The children + remained at home, more or less—increasingly less—in the charge + of an elderly woman who acted as housekeeper. + </p> + <p> + Ditmar had miraculously regained his freedom. And now, when he made trips + to New York and Boston, combining business with pleasure, there were no + questions asked, no troublesome fictions to be composed. More frequently + he was in Boston, where he belonged to a large and comfortable club, not + too exacting in regard to membership, and here he met his cronies and + sometimes planned excursions with them, automobile trips in summer to the + White Mountains or choice little resorts to spend Sundays and holidays, + generally taking with them a case of champagne and several bags of golf + sticks. He was fond of shooting, and belonged to a duck club on the Cape, + where poker and bridge were not tabooed. To his intimates he was known as + “Dit.” Nor is it surprising that his attitude toward women had become in + general one of resentment; matrimony he now regarded as unmitigated folly. + At five and forty he was a vital, dominating, dust-coloured man six feet + and half an inch in height, weighing a hundred and ninety pounds, and thus + a trifle fleshy. When relaxed, and in congenial company, he looked rather + boyish, an aspect characteristic of many American business men of to-day. + </p> + <p> + His head was large, he wore his hair short, his features also proclaimed + him as belonging to a modern American type in that they were not + clear-cut, but rather indefinable; a bristling, short-cropped moustache + gave him a certain efficient, military look which, when introduced to + strangers as “Colonel,” was apt to deceive them into thinking him an army + officer. The title he had once received as a member of the staff of the + governor of the state, and was a tribute to a gregariousness and political + influence rather than to a genius for the art of war. Ex officio, as the + agent of the Chippering Mill and a man of substance to boot, he was “in” + politics, hail fellow well met with and an individual to be taken into + account by politicians from the governor and member of congress down. He + was efficient, of course; he had efficient hands and shrewd, efficient + eyes, and the military impression was deepened by his manner of dealing + with people, his conversation being yea, yea and nay, nay,—save with + his cronies and those of the other sex from whom he had something to gain. + His clothes always looked new, of pronounced patterns and light colours + set aside for him by an obsequious tailor in Boston. + </p> + <p> + If a human being in such an enviable position as that of agent of the + Chippering Mill can be regarded as property, it might be said that Mr. + Claude Ditmar belonged to the Chipperings of Boston, a family still owning + a controlling interest in the company. His loyalty to them and to the mill + he so ably conducted was the great loyalty of his life. For Ditmar, a + Chippering could do no wrong. It had been the keen eye of Mr. Stephen + Chippering that first had marked him, questioned him, recognized his + ability, and from the moment of that encounter his advance had been rapid. + When old Stephen had been called to his fathers, Ditmar's allegiance was + automatically, as it were, transferred to the two sons, George and + Worthington, already members of the board of directors. Sometimes Ditmar + called on them at their homes, which stood overlooking the waters of the + Charles River Basin. The attitude toward him of the Chipperings and their + wives was one of an interesting adjustment of feudalism to democracy. They + were fond of him, grateful to him, treating him with a frank camaraderie + that had in it not the slightest touch of condescension, but Ditmar would + have been the first to recognize that there were limits to the intimacy. + They did not, for instance—no doubt out of consideration—invite + him to their dinner parties or take him to their club, which was not the + same as that to which he himself belonged. He felt no animus. Nor would + he, surprising though it may seem, have changed places with the + Chipperings. At an early age, and quite unconsciously, he had accepted + property as the ruling power of the universe, and when family was added + thereto the combination was nothing less than divine. + </p> + <p> + There were times, especially during the long winters, when life became + almost unbearable for Janet, and she was seized by a desire to run away + from Fillmore Street, from the mills, from Hampton itself. Only she did + not know where to go, or how to get away. She was convinced of the + existence in the world of delightful spots where might be found congenial + people with whom it would be a joy to talk. Fillmore Street, certainly, + did not contain any such. The office was not so bad. It is true that in + the mornings, as she entered West Street, the sight of the dark facade of + the fortress-like structure, emblematic of the captivity in which she + passed her days, rarely failed to arouse in her sensations of oppression + and revolt; but here, at least, she discovered an outlet for her energies; + she was often too busy to reflect, and at odd moments she could find a + certain solace and companionship in the river, so intent, so purposeful, + so beautiful, so undisturbed by the inconcinnity, the clatter and + confusion of Hampton as it flowed serenely under the bridges and between + the mills toward the sea. Toward the sea! + </p> + <p> + It was when, at night, she went back to Fillmore Street—when she + thought of the monotony, yes, and the sordidness of home, when she let + herself in at the door and climbed the dark and narrow stairway, that her + feet grew leaden. In spite of the fact that Hannah was a good housekeeper + and prided herself on cleanliness, the tiny flat reeked with the smell of + cooking, and Janet, from the upper hall, had a glimpse of a thin, angular + woman with a scrawny neck, with scant grey hair tightly drawn into a knot, + in a gingham apron covering an old dress bending over the kitchen stove. + And occasionally, despite a resentment that fate should have dealt thus + inconsiderately with the family, Janet felt pity welling within her. After + supper, when Lise had departed with her best young man, Hannah would + occasionally, though grudgingly, permit Janet to help her with the dishes. + </p> + <p> + “You work all day, you have a right to rest.” + </p> + <p> + “But I don't want to rest,” Janet would declare, and rub the dishes the + harder. With the spirit underlying this protest, Hannah sympathized. + Mother and daughter were alike in that both were inarticulate, but Janet + had a secret contempt for Hannah's uncomplaining stoicism. She loved her + mother, in a way, especially at certain times,—though she often + wondered why she was unable to realize more fully the filial affection of + tradition; but in moments of softening, such as these, she was filled with + rage at the thought of any woman endowed with energy permitting herself to + be overtaken and overwhelmed by such a fate as Hannah's: divorce, + desertion, anything, she thought, would have been better—anything + but to be cheated out of life. Feeling the fires of rebellion burning + hotly within her,—rebellion against environment and driving + necessity she would glance at her mother and ask herself whether it were + possible that Hannah had ever known longings, had ever been wrung by + inexpressible desires,—desires in which the undiscovered spiritual + was so alarmingly compounded with the undiscovered physical. She would + have died rather than speak to Hannah of these unfulfilled experiences, + and the mere thought of confiding them to any person appalled her. Even if + there existed some wonderful, understanding being to whom she might be + able thus to empty her soul, the thought of the ecstasy of that kenosis + was too troubling to be dwelt upon. + </p> + <p> + She had tried reading, with unfortunate results,—perhaps because no + Virgil had as yet appeared to guide her through the mysteries of that + realm. Her schooling had failed to instil into her a discriminating taste + for literature; and when, on occasions, she had entered the Public Library + opposite the Common it had been to stare hopelessly at rows of books whose + authors and titles offered no clue to their contents. Her few choices had + not been happy, they had failed to interest and thrill... + </p> + <p> + Of the Bumpus family Lise alone found refuge, distraction, and excitement + in the vulgar modern world by which they were surrounded, and of whose + heedlessness and remorselessness they were the victims. Lise went out into + it, became a part of it, returning only to sleep and eat,—a tendency + Hannah found unaccountable, and against which even her stoicism was not + wholly proof. Scarce an evening went by without an expression of + uneasiness from Hannah. + </p> + <p> + “She didn't happen to mention where she was going, did she, Janet?” Hannah + would query, when she had finished her work and put on her spectacles to + read the Banner. + </p> + <p> + “To the movies, I suppose,” Janet would reply. Although well aware that + her sister indulged in other distractions, she thought it useless to add + to Hannah's disquietude. And if she had little patience with Lise, she had + less with the helpless attitude of her parents. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” Hannah would add, “I never can get used to her going out nights + the way she does, and with young men and women I don't know anything + about. I wasn't brought up that way. But as long as she's got to work for + a living I guess there's no help for it.” + </p> + <p> + And she would glance at Edward. It was obviously due to his inability + adequately to cope with modern conditions that his daughters were forced + to toil, but this was the nearest she ever came to reproaching him. If he + heard, he acquiesced humbly, and in silence: more often than not he was + oblivious, buried in the mazes of the Bumpus family history, his papers + spread out on the red cloth of the dining-room table, under the lamp. + Sometimes in his simplicity and with the enthusiasm that demands listeners + he would read aloud to them a letter, recently received from a distant + kinsman, an Alpheus Bumpus, let us say, who had migrated to California in + search of wealth and fame, and who had found neither. In spite of age and + misfortunes, the liberal attitude of these western members of the family + was always a matter of perplexity to Edward. + </p> + <p> + “He tells me they're going to give women the ballot,—doesn't appear + to be much concerned about his own womenfolks going to the polls.” + </p> + <p> + “Why shouldn't they, if they want to?” Janet would exclaim, though she had + given little thought to the question. + </p> + <p> + Edward would mildly ignore this challenge. + </p> + <p> + “He has a house on what they call Russian Hill, and he can watch the + vessels as they come in from Japan,” he would continue in his precise + voice, emphasizing admirably the last syllables of the words “Russian,” + “vessels,” and “Japan.” “Wouldn't you like to see the letter?” + </p> + <p> + To do Hannah justice, although she was quite incapable of sharing his + passion, she frequently feigned an interest, took the letter, presently + handing it on to Janet who, in deciphering Alpheus's trembling + calligraphy, pondered over his manifold woes. Alpheus's son, who had had a + good position in a sporting goods establishment on Market Street, was sick + and in danger of losing it, the son's wife expecting an addition to the + family, the house on Russian Hill mortgaged. Alpheus, a veteran of the + Civil War, had been for many years preparing his reminiscences, but the + newspapers nowadays seemed to care nothing for matters of solid worth, and + so far had refused to publish them.... Janet, as she read, reflected that + these letters invariably had to relate tales of failures, of disappointed + hopes; she wondered at her father's perennial interest in failures,—provided + they were those of his family; and the next evening, as he wrote painfully + on his ruled paper, she knew that he in turn was pouring out his soul to + Alpheus, recounting, with an emotion by no means unpleasurable, to this + sympathetic but remote relative the story of his own failure! + </p> + <p> + If the city of Hampton was emblematic of our modern world in which + haphazardness has replaced order, Fillmore Street may be likened to a back + eddy of the muddy and troubled waters, in which all sorts of flotsam and + jetsam had collected. Or, to find perhaps an even more striking + illustration of the process that made Hampton in general and Fillmore + Street in particular, one had only to take the trolley to Glendale, the + Italian settlement on the road leading to the old New England village of + Shrewsbury. Janet sometimes walked there, alone or with her friend Eda + Rawle. Disintegration itself—in a paradoxically pathetic attempt at + reconstruction—had built Glendale. Human hands, Italian hands. Nor, + surprising though it may seem, were these descendants of the people of the + Renaissance in the least offended by their handiwork. When the southern + European migration had begun and real estate became valuable, one by one + the more decorous edifices of the old American order had been torn down + and carried piecemeal by sons of Italy to the bare hills of Glendale, + there to enter into new combinations representing, to an eye craving + harmony, the last word of a chaos, of a mental indigestion, of a colour + scheme crying aloud to heaven for retribution. Standing alone and bare + amidst its truck gardens, hideous, extreme, though typical of the entire + settlement, composed of fragments ripped from once-appropriate settings, + is a house with a tiny body painted strawberry-red, with scroll-work + shutters a tender green; surmounting the structure and almost equalling it + in size is a sky-blue cupola, once the white crown of the Sutter mansion, + the pride of old Hampton. The walls of this dwelling were wrested from the + sides of Mackey's Tavern, while the shutters for many years adorned the + parsonage of the old First Church. Similarly, in Hampton and in Fillmore + Street, lived in enforced neighbourliness human fragments once having + their places in crystallized communities where existence had been regarded + as solved. Here there was but one order,—if such it may be called,—one + relationship, direct, or indirect, one necessity claiming them all—the + mills. + </p> + <p> + Like the boards forming the walls of the shacks at Glendale, these human + planks torn from an earlier social structure were likewise warped, which + is to say they were dominated by obsessions. Edward's was the Bumpus + family; and Chris Auermann, who lived in the flat below, was convinced + that the history of mankind is a deplorable record of havoc caused by + women. Perhaps he was right, but the conviction was none the less an + obsession. He came from a little village near Wittenburg that has scarcely + changed since Luther's time. Like most residents of Hampton who did not + work in the mills, he ministered to those who did, or to those who sold + merchandise to the workers, cutting their hair in his barber shop on Faber + Street. + </p> + <p> + The Bumpuses, save Lise, clinging to a native individualism and pride, + preferred isolation to companionship with the other pieces of driftwood by + which they were surrounded, and with which the summer season compelled a + certain enforced contact. When the heat in the little dining-room grew + unbearable, they were driven to take refuge on the front steps shared in + common with the household of the barber. It is true that the barber's wife + was a mild hausfrau who had little to say, and that their lodgers, two + young Germans who worked in the mills, spent most of their evenings at a + bowling club; but Auermann himself, exhaling a strong odour of bay rum, + would arrive promptly at quarter past eight, take off his coat, and thus, + as it were stripped for action, would turn upon the defenceless Edward. + </p> + <p> + “Vill you mention one great man—yoost one—who is not greater + if the vimmen leave him alone?” he would demand. “Is it Anthony, the + conqueror of Egypt and the East? I vill show you Cleopatra. Und Burns, and + Napoleon, the greatest man what ever lived—vimmen again. I tell you + there is no Elba, no St. Helena if it is not for the vimmen. Und vat vill + you say of Goethe?” + </p> + <p> + Poor Edward could think of nothing to say of Goethe. + </p> + <p> + “He is great, I grant you,” Chris would admit, “but vat is he if the + vimmen leave him alone? Divine yoost that.” And he would proceed to cite + endless examples of generals and statesmen whose wives or mistresses had + been their bane. Futile Edward's attempts to shift the conversation to the + subject of his own obsession; the German was by far the more aggressive, + he would have none of it. Perhaps if Edward had been willing to concede + that the Bumpuses had been brought to their present lowly estate by the + sinister agency of the fair sex Chris might conditionally have accepted + the theme. Hannah, contemptuously waving a tattered palm leaf fan, was + silent; but on one occasion Janet took away the barber's breath by + suddenly observing:—“You never seem to think of the women whose + lives are ruined by men, Mr. Auermann.” + </p> + <p> + It was unheard-of, this invasion of a man's argument by a woman, and by a + young woman at that. He glared at her through his spectacles, took them + off, wiped them, replaced them, and glared at her again. He did not like + Janet; she was capable of what may be called a speaking silence, and he + had never been wholly unaware of her disapproval and ridicule. Perhaps he + recognized in her, instinctively, the potential qualities of that emerging + modern woman who to him was anathema. + </p> + <p> + “It is somethings I don't think about,” he said. + </p> + <p> + He was a wizened little man with faience-blue eyes, and sat habitually + hunched up with his hands folded across his shins. + </p> + <p> + “Nam fuit ante Helenam”—as Darwin quotes. Toward all the masculine + residents of Fillmore Street, save one, the barber's attitude was one of + unconcealed scorn for an inability to recognize female perfidy. With + Johnny Tiernan alone he refused to enter the lists. When the popular + proprietor of the tin shop came sauntering along the sidewalk with nose + uptilted, waving genial greetings to the various groups on the steps, + Chris Auermann's expression would suddenly change to one of fatuous + playfulness. + </p> + <p> + “What's this I hear about giving the girls the vote, Chris?” Johnny would + innocently inquire, winking at Janet, invariably running his hand through + the wiry red hair that resumed its corkscrew twist as soon as he released + it. And Chris would as invariably reply:—“You have the dandruffs—yes? + You come to my shop, I give you somethings....” + </p> + <p> + Sometimes the barber, in search of a more aggressive adversary than + Edward, would pay visits, when as likely as not another neighbour with + profound convictions and a craving for proselytes would swoop down on the + defenceless Bumpuses: Joe Shivers, for instance, who lived in one of the + tenements above the cleaning and dyeing establishment kept by the Pappas + Bros., and known as “The Gentleman.” In the daytime Mr. Shivers was a + model of acquiescence in a system he would have designated as one of + industrial feudalism, his duty being to examine the rolls of cloth as they + came from the looms of the Arundel Mill, in case of imperfections handing + them over to the women menders: at night, to borrow a vivid expression + from Lise, he was “batty in the belfry” on the subject of socialism. + Unlike the barber, whom he could not abide, for him the cleavage of the + world was between labour and capital instead of man and woman; his + philosophy was stern and naturalistic; the universe—the origin of + which he did not discuss—just an accidental assemblage of capricious + forces over which human intelligence was one day to triumph. Squatting on + the lowest step, his face upturned, by the light of the arc sputtering + above the street he looked like a yellow frog, his eager eyes directed + toward Janet, whom he suspected of intelligence. + </p> + <p> + “If there was a God, a nice, kind, all-powerful God, would he permit what + happened in one of the loom-rooms last week? A Polak girl gets her hair + caught in the belt pfff!” He had a marvellously realistic gift when it + came to horrors: Janet felt her hair coming out by the roots. Although she + never went to church, she did not like to think that no God existed. Of + this Mr. Shivers was very positive. Edward, too, listened uneasily, hemmed + and hawed, making ineffectual attempts to combat Mr. Shivers's socialism + with a deeply-rooted native individualism that Shivers declared as defunct + as Christianity. + </p> + <p> + “If it is possible for the workingman to rise under a capitalistic system, + why do you not rise, then? Why do I not rise? I'm as good as Ditmar, I'm + better educated, but we're all slaves. What right has a man to make you + and me work for him just because he has capital?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, the right of capital,” Edward would reply. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Shivers, with the manner of one dealing with an incurable romanticism + and sentimentality, would lift his hands in despair. And in spite of the + fact that Janet detested him, he sometimes exercised over her a + paradoxical fascination, suggesting as he did unexplored intellectual + realms. She despised her father for not being able to crush the little + man. Edward would make pathetic attempts to capture the role Shivers had + appropriated, to be the practical party himself, to convict Shivers of + idealism. Socialism scandalized him, outraged, even more than atheism, + something within him he held sacred, and he was greatly annoyed because he + was unable adequately to express this feeling. + </p> + <p> + “You can't change human nature, Mr. Shivers,” Edward would insist in his + precise but ineffectual manner. “We all want property, you would accept a + fortune if it was offered to you, and so should I. Americans will never + become socialists.” + </p> + <p> + “But look at me, wasn't I born in Meriden, Connecticut? Ain't that Yankee + enough for you?” Thus Mr. Shivers sought blandly to confound him. + </p> + <p> + A Yankee Shades of the Pilgrim fathers, of seven, generations of Bumpuses! + A Yankee who used his hands in that way, a Yankee with a nose like that, a + Yankee with a bald swathe down the middle of his crown and bunches of + black, moth-eaten hair on either side! But Edward, too polite to descend + to personalities, was silent.... + </p> + <p> + In brief, this very politeness of Edward's, which his ancestors would have + scorned, this consideration and lack of self-assertion made him the + favourite prey of the many “characters” in Fillmore Street whose sanity + had been disturbed by pressure from above, in whose systems had lodged the + germs of those exotic social doctrines floating so freely in the air of + our modern industrial communities.... Chester Glenn remains for a passing + mention. A Yankee of Yankees, this, born on a New Hampshire farm, and to + the ordinary traveller on the Wigmore branch of the railroad just a + good-natured, round-faced, tobacco-chewing brakeman who would take a seat + beside ladies of his acquaintance aid make himself agreeable until it was + time to rise and bawl out, in the approved manner of his profession, the + name of the next station. Fillmore Street knew that the flat visored cap + which his corporation compelled him to wear covered a brain into which had + penetrated the maggot of the Single Tax. When he encountered Mr. Shivers + or Auermann the talk became coruscating.. + </p> + <p> + Eda Rawle, Janet's solitary friend of these days, must also be mentioned, + though the friendship was merely an episode in Janet's life. Their first + meeting was at Grady's quick-lunch counter in Faber Street, which they + both frequented at one time, and the fact that each had ordered a ham + sandwich, a cup of coffee, and a confection—new to Grady's—known + as a Napoleon had led to conversation. + </p> + <p> + Eda, of course, was the aggressor; she was irresistibly drawn, she would + not be repulsed. A stenographer in the Wessex National Bank, she boarded + with a Welsh family in Spruce Street; matter-of-fact, plodding, + commonplace, resembling—as Janet thought—a horse, possessing, + indeed many of the noble qualities of that animal, she might have been + thought the last person in the world to discern and appreciate in Janet + the hidden elements of a mysterious fire. In appearance Miss Rawle was of + a type not infrequent in Anglo-Saxon lands, strikingly blonde, with high + malar bones, white eyelashes, and eyes of a metallic blue, cheeks of an + amazing elasticity that worked rather painfully as she talked or smiled, + drawing back inadequate lips, revealing long, white teeth and vivid gums. + It was the craving in her for romance Janet assuaged; Eda's was the love + content to pour out, that demands little. She was capable of immolation. + Janet was by no means ungrateful for the warmth of such affection, though + in moments conscious of a certain perplexity and sadness because she was + able to give such a meagre return for the wealth of its offering. + </p> + <p> + In other moments, when the world seemed all disorder and chaos,—as + Mr. Shivers described it,—or when she felt within her, like demons, + those inexpressible longings and desires, leaping and straining, pulling + her, almost irresistibly, she knew not whither, Eda shone forth like a + light in the darkness, like the beacon of a refuge and a shelter. Eda had + faith in her, even when Janet had lost faith in herself: she went to Eda + in the same spirit that Marguerite went to church; though she, Janet, more + resembled Faust, being—save in these hours of lowered vitality—of + the forth-faring kind.... Unable to confess the need that drove her, she + arrived in Eda's little bedroom to be taken into Eda's arms. Janet was + immeasurably the stronger of the two, but Eda possessed the masculine + trait of protectiveness, the universe never bothered her, she was one of + those persons—called fortunate—to whom the orthodox Christian + virtues come as naturally as sun or air. Passion, when sanctified by + matrimony, was her ideal, and now it was always in terms of Janet she + dreamed of it, having read about it in volumes her friend would not touch, + and never having experienced deeply its discomforts. Sanctified or + unsanctified, Janet regarded it with terror, and whenever Eda innocently + broached the subject she recoiled. Once Eda exclaimed:—“When you do + fall in love, Janet, you must tell me all about it, every word!” + </p> + <p> + Janet blushed hotly, and was silent. In Eda's mind such an affair was a + kind of glorified fireworks ending in a cluster of stars, in Janet's a + volcanic eruption to turn the world red. Such was the difference between + them. + </p> + <p> + Their dissipations together consisted of “sundaes” at a drug-store, or + sometimes of movie shows at the Star or the Alhambra. Stereotyped on Eda's + face during the legitimately tender passages of these dramas was an + expression of rapture, a smile made peculiarly infatuate by that vertical + line in her cheeks, that inadequacy of lip and preponderance of white + teeth and red gums. It irritated, almost infuriated Janet, to whom it + appeared as the logical reflection of what was passing on the screen; she + averted her glance from both, staring into her lap, filled with shame that + the relation between the sexes should be thus exposed to public gaze, + parodied, sentimentalized, degraded.... There were, however, marvels to + stir her, strange landscapes, cities, seas, and ships,—once a fire + in the forest of a western reserve with gigantic tongues of orange flame + leaping from tree to tree. The movies brought the world to Hampton, the + great world into which she longed to fare, brought the world to her! + Remote mountain hamlets from Japan, minarets and muezzins from the Orient, + pyramids from Egypt, domes from Moscow resembling gilded beets turned + upside down; grey houses of parliament by the Thames, the Tower of London, + the Palaces of Potsdam, the Tai Mahal. Strange lands indeed, and stranger + peoples! booted Russians in blouses, naked Equatorial savages tattooed and + amazingly adorned, soldiers and sailors, presidents, princes and emperors + brought into such startling proximity one could easily imagine one's self + exchanging the time of day! Incredible to Janet how the audiences, how + even Eda accepted with American complacency what were to her never-ending + miracles; the yearning to see more, to know more, became acute, like a + pain, but even as she sought to devour these scenes, to drink in every + detail, with tantalizing swiftness they were whisked away. They were + peepholes in the walls of her prison; and at night she often charmed + herself to sleep with remembered visions of wide, empty, treeshaded + terraces reserved for kings. + </p> + <p> + But Eda, however complacent her interest in the scenes themselves, was + thrilled to the marrow by their effect on Janet, who was her medium. + Emerging from the vestibule of the theatre, Janet seemed not to see the + slushy street, her eyes shone with a silver light like that of a mountain + lake in a stormy sunset. And they walked in silence until Janet would + exclaim: + </p> + <p> + “Oh Eda, wouldn't you love to travel!” + </p> + <p> + Thus Eda Rawle was brought in contact with values she herself was + powerless to detect, and which did not become values until they had passed + through Janet. One “educative” reel they had seen had begun with scenes in + a lumber camp high in the mountains of Galicia, where grow forests of the + priceless pine that becomes, after years of drying and seasoning, the + sounding board of the Stradivarius and the harp. Even then it must respond + to a Player. Eda, though failing to apply this poetic parallel, when alone + in her little room in the Welsh boarding-house often indulged in an + ecstasy of speculation as to that man, hidden in the mists of the future, + whose destiny it would be to awaken her friend. Hampton did not contain + him,—of this she was sure; and in her efforts to visualize him she + had recourse to the movies, seeking him amongst that brilliant company of + personages who stood so haughtily or walked so indifferently across the + ephemeral brightness of the screen. + </p> + <p> + By virtue of these marvels of the movies: Hampton ugly and sordid Hampton!—actually + began for Janet to take on a romantic tinge. Were not the strange peoples + of the earth flocking to Hampton? She saw them arriving at the station, + straight from Ellis Island, bewildered, ticketed like dumb animals, the + women draped in the soft, exotic colours many of them were presently to + exchange for the cheap and gaudy apparel of Faber Street. She sought to + summon up in her mind the glimpses she had had of the wonderful lands from + which they had come, to imagine their lives in that earlier environment. + Sometimes she wandered, alone or with Eda, through the various quarters of + the city. Each quarter had a flavour of its own, a synthetic flavour + belonging neither to the old nor to the new, yet partaking of both: a + difference in atmosphere to which Janet was keenly sensitive. In the + German quarter, to the north, one felt a sort of ornamental bleakness—if + the expression may be permitted: the tenements here were clean and not too + crowded, the scroll-work on their superimposed porches, like that + decorating the Turnverein and the stem Lutheran Church, was eloquent of a + Teutonic inheritance: The Belgians were to the west, beyond the base-ball + park and the car barns, their grey houses scattered among new streets + beside the scarred and frowning face of Torrey's hill. Almost under the + hill itself, which threatened to roll down on it, and facing a bottomless, + muddy street, was the quaint little building giving the note of foreign + thrift, of socialism and shrewdness, of joie de vivre to the settlement, + the Franco-Belgian co-operative store, with its salle de reunion above and + a stage for amateur theatricals. Standing in the mud outside, Janet would + gaze through the tiny windows in the stucco wall at the baskets prepared + for each household laid in neat rows beside the counter; at the old man + with the watery blue eyes and lacing of red in his withered cheeks who + spoke no English, whose duty it was to distribute the baskets to the women + and children as they called. + </p> + <p> + Turning eastward again, one came to Dey Street, in the heart of Hampton, + where Hibernian Hall stood alone and grim, sole testimony of the departed + Hibernian glories of a district where the present Irish rulers of the city + had once lived and gossiped and fought in the days when the mill bells had + roused the boarding-house keepers at half past four of a winter morning. + Beside the hall was a corner lot, heaped high with hills of ashes and + rubbish like the vomitings of some filthy volcano; the unsightliness of + which was half concealed by huge signs announcing the merits of chewing + gums, tobaccos, and cereals. But why had the departure of the Irish, the + coming of the Syrians made Dey Street dark, narrow, mysterious, oriental? + changed the very aspect of its architecture? Was it the coffee-houses? One + of these, in front of which Janet liked to linger, was set weirdly into an + old New England cottage, and had, apparently, fathomless depths. In summer + the whole front of it lay open to the street, and here all day long, + beside the table where the charcoal squares were set to dry, could be seen + saffron-coloured Armenians absorbed in a Turkish game played on a + backgammon board, their gentleness and that of the loiterers looking on in + strange contrast with their hawk-like profiles and burning eyes. Behind + this group, in the half light of the middle interior, could be discerned + an American soda-water fountain of a bygone fashion, on its marble counter + oddly shaped bottles containing rose and violet syrups; there was a + bottle-shaped stove, and on the walls, in gilt frames, pictures evidently + dating from the period in American art that flourished when Franklin + Pierce was President; and there was an array of marble topped tables + extending far back into the shadows. Behind the fountain was a sort of + cupboard—suggestive of the Arabian Nights, which Janet had never + read—from which, occasionally, the fat proprietor emerged bearing + Turkish coffee or long Turkish pipes. + </p> + <p> + When not thus occupied the proprietor carried a baby. The street swarmed + with babies, and mothers nursed them on the door-steps. And in this + teeming, prolific street one could scarcely move without stepping on a + fat, almond eyed child, though some, indeed, were wheeled; wheeled in all + sorts of queer contrivances by one another, by fathers with ragged black + moustaches and eagle noses who, to the despair of mill superintendents, + had decided in the morning that three days' wages would since to support + their families for the week.... In the midst of the throng might be seen + occasionally the stout and comfortable and not too immaculate figure of a + shovel bearded Syrian priest, in a frock coat and square-topped “Derby” + hat, sailing along serenely, heedless of the children who scattered out of + his path. + </p> + <p> + Nearby was the quarter of the Canadian French, scarcely now to be called + foreigners, though still somewhat reminiscent of the cramped little towns + in the northern wilderness of water and forest. On one corner stood almost + invariably a “Pharmacie Francaise”; the signs were in French, and the + elders spoke the patois. These, despite the mill pallor, retained in their + faces, in their eyes, a suggestion of the outdoor look of their ancestors, + the coureurs des bois, but the children spoke English, and the young men, + as they played baseball in the street or in the corner lots might be heard + shouting out derisively the cry of the section hands so familiar in mill + cities, “Doff, you beggars you, doff!” + </p> + <p> + Occasionally the two girls strayed into that wide thoroughfare not far + from the canal, known by the classic name of Hawthorne, which the Italians + had appropriated to themselves. This street, too, in spite of the + telegraph poles flaunting crude arms in front of its windows, in spite of + the trolley running down its middle, had acquired a character, a unity all + its own, a warmth and picturesqueness that in the lingering light of + summer evenings assumed an indefinable significance. It was not Italy, but + it was something—something proclaimed in the ornate, leaning lines + of the pillared balconies of the yellow tenement on the second block, in + the stone-vaulted entrance of the low house next door, in fantastically + coloured walls, in curtained windows out of which leaned swarthy, + earringed women. Blocking the end of the street, in stern contrast, was + the huge Clarendon Mill with its sinister brick pillars running up the six + stories between the glass. Here likewise the sidewalks overflowed with + children, large-headed, with great, lustrous eyes, mute, appealing, the + eyes of cattle. Unlike American children, they never seemed to be playing. + Among the groups of elders gathered for gossip were piratical Calabrians + in sombre clothes, descended from Greek ancestors, once the terrors of the + Adriatic Sea. The women, lingering in the doorways, hemmed in by more + children, were for the most part squat and plump, but once in a while + Janet's glance was caught and held by a strange, sharp beauty worthy of a + cameo. + </p> + <p> + Opposite the Clarendon Mill on the corner of East Street was a provision + store with stands of fruit and vegetables encroaching on the pavement. + Janet's eye was attracted by a box of olives. + </p> + <p> + “Oh Eda,” she cried, “do you remember, we saw them being picked—in + the movies? All those old trees on the side of a hill?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, that's so,” said Eda. “You never would have thought anything'd grow + on those trees.” + </p> + <p> + The young Italian who kept the store gave them a friendly grin. + </p> + <p> + “You lika the olives?” he asked, putting some of the shining black fruit + into their hands. Eda bit one dubiously with her long, white teeth, and + giggled. + </p> + <p> + “Don't they taste funny!” she exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Good—very good,” he asserted gravely, and it was to Janet he + turned, as though recognizing a discrimination not to be found in her + companion. She nodded affirmatively. The strange taste of the fruit + enhanced her sense of adventure, she tried to imagine herself among the + gatherers in the grove; she glanced at the young man to perceive that he + was tall and well formed, with remarkably expressive eyes almost the + colour of the olives themselves. It surprised her that she liked him, + though he was an Italian and a foreigner: a certain debonnair dignity in + him appealed to her—a quality lacking in many of her own countrymen. + </p> + <p> + And she wanted to talk to him about Italy,—only she did not know how + to begin,—when a customer appeared, an Italian woman who conversed + with him in soft, liquid tones that moved her.... + </p> + <p> + Sometimes on these walks—especially if the day were grey and sombre—Janet's + sense of romance and adventure deepened, became more poignant, charged + with presage. These feelings, vague and unaccountable, she was utterly + unable to confide to Eda, yet the very fear they inspired was fascinating; + a fear and a hope that some day, in all this Babel of peoples, something + would happen! It was as though the conflicting soul of the city and her + own soul were one.... + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III + </h2> + <p> + Lise was the only member of the Bumpus family who did not find uncongenial + such distractions and companionships as were offered by the civilization + that surrounded them. The Bagatelle she despised; that was slavery—but + slavery out of which she might any day be snatched, like Leila Hawtrey, by + a prince charming who had made a success in life. Success to Lise meant + money. Although what some sentimental sociologists might call a victim of + our civilization, Lise would not have changed it, since it produced not + only Lise herself, but also those fabulous financiers with yachts and + motors and town and country houses she read about in the supplements of + the Sunday newspapers. It contained her purgatory, which she regarded in + good conventional fashion as a mere temporary place of detention, and + likewise the heaven toward which she strained, the dwelling-place of + light. In short, her philosophy was that of the modern, orthodox American, + tinged by a somewhat commercialized Sunday school tradition of an earlier + day, and highly approved by the censors of the movies. The peculiar kind + of abstinence once euphemistically known as “virtue,” particularly if it + were combined with beauty, never failed of its reward. Lise, in this + sense, was indeed virtuous, and her mirror told her she was beautiful. + Almost anything could happen to such a lady: any day she might be carried + up into heaven by that modern chariot of fire, the motor car, driven by a + celestial chauffeur. + </p> + <p> + One man's meat being another's poison, Lise absorbed from the movies an + element by which her sister Janet was repelled. A popular production known + as “Leila of Hawtrey's” contained her creed,—Hawtrey's being a + glittering metropolitan restaurant where men of the world are wont to + gather and discuss the stock market, and Leila a beautiful, blonde and + orphaned waitress upon whom several of the fashionable frequenters had + exercised seductive powers in vain. They lay in wait for her at the side + entrance, followed her, while one dissipated and desperate person, + married, and said to move in the most exclusive circles, sent her an offer + of a yearly income in five figures, the note being reproduced on the + screen, and Leila pictured reading it in her frigid hall-bedroom. There + are complications; she is in debt, and the proprietor of Hawtrey's has + threatened to discharge her and in order that the magnitude of the + temptation may be most effectively realized the vision appears of Leila + herself, wrapped in furs, stepping out of a limousine and into an elevator + lifting her to an apartment containing silk curtains, a Canet bed, a + French maid, and a Pomeranian. Virtue totters, but triumphs, being + reinforced by two more visions the first of these portrays Leila, + prematurely old, dragging herself along pavements under the metallic + Broadway lights accosting gentlemen in evening dress; and the second + reveals her in the country, kneeling beside a dying mother's bed, giving + her promise to remain true to the Christian teachings of her childhood. + </p> + <p> + And virtue is rewarded, lavishly, as virtue should be, in dollars and + cents, in stocks and bonds, in pearls and diamonds. Popular fancy takes + kindly to rough but honest westerners who have begun life in flannel + shirts, who have struck gold and come to New York with a fortune but + despising effeteness; such a one, tanned by the mountain sun, embarrassed + in raiment supplied by a Fifth Avenue tailor, takes a table one evening at + Hawtrey's and of course falls desperately in love. He means marriage from + the first, and his faith in Leila is great enough to survive what appears + to be an almost total eclipse of her virtue. Through the machinations of + the influential villain, and lured by the false pretence that one of her + girl friends is ill, she is enticed into a mysterious house of a sinister + elegance, and apparently irretrievably compromised. The westerner follows, + forces his way through the portals, engages the villain, and vanquishes + him. Leila becomes a Bride. We behold her, at the end, mistress of one of + those magnificent stone mansions with grilled vestibules and negro butlers + into whose sacred precincts we are occasionally, in the movies, somewhat + breathlessly ushered—a long way from Hawtrey's restaurant and a + hall-bedroom. A long way, too, from the Bagatelle and Fillmore Street—but + to Lise a way not impossible, nor even improbable. + </p> + <p> + This work of art, conveying the moral that virtue is an economic asset, + made a great impression on Lise. Good Old Testament doctrine, set forth in + the Book of Job itself. And Leila, pictured as holding out for a higher + price and getting it, encouraged Lise to hold out also. Mr. Wiley, in + whose company she had seen this play, and whose likeness filled the plush + and silver-plated frame on her bureau, remained ironically ignorant of the + fact that he had paid out his money to make definite an ambition, an ideal + hitherto nebulous in the mind of the lady whom he adored. Nor did Lise + enlighten him, being gifted with a certain inscrutableness. As a matter of + fact it had never been her intention to accept him, but now that she was + able concretely to visualize her Lochinvar of the future, Mr. Whey's lack + of qualifications became the more apparent. In the first place, he had + been born in Lowell and had never been west of Worcester; in the second, + his salary was sixteen dollars a week: it is true she had once fancied the + Scottish terrier style of hair-cut abruptly ending in the rounded line of + the shaven neck, but Lochinvar had been close-cropped. Mr. Wiley, + close-cropped, would have resembled a convict. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Wiley was in love, there could be no doubt about that, and if he had + not always meant marriage, he meant it now, having reached a state where + no folly seems preposterous. The manner of their meeting had had just the + adventurous and romantic touch that Lise liked, one of her favourite + amusements in the intervals between “steadies” being to walk up and down + Faber Street of an evening after supper, arm in arm with two or three + other young ladies, all chewing gum, wheeling into store windows and + wheeling out again, pretending the utmost indifference to melting glances + cast in their direction. An exciting sport, though incomprehensible to + masculine intelligence. It was a principle with Lise to pay no attention + to any young man who was not “presented,” those venturing to approach her + with the ready formula “Haven't we met before?” being instantly congealed. + She was strict as to etiquette. But Mr. Wiley, it seemed, could claim + acquaintance with Miss Schuler, one of the ladies to whose arm Lise's was + linked, and he had the further advantage of appearing in a large and + seductive touring car, painted green, with an eagle poised above the hood + and its name, Wizard, in a handwriting rounded and bold, written in nickel + across the radiator. He greeted Miss Schuler effusively, but his eye was + on Lise from the first, and it was she he took with, him in the front + seat, indifferent to the giggling behind. Ever since then Lise had had a + motor at her disposal, and on Sundays they took long “joy rides” beyond + the borders of the state. But it must not be imagined that Mr. Whey was + the proprietor of the vehicle; nor was he a chauffeur,—her American + pride would not have permitted her to keep company with a chauffeur: he + was the demonstrator for the Wizard, something of a wizard himself, as + Lise had to admit when they whizzed over the tarvia of the Riverside + Boulevard at fifty or sixty miles an hour with the miner cut out—a + favourite diversion of Mr. Whey's, who did not feel he was going unless he + was accompanied by a noise like that of a mitrailleuse in action. Lise, + experiencing a ravishing terror, hung on to her hat with one hand and to + Mr. Wiley with the other, her code permitting this; permitting him also, + occasionally, when they found themselves in tenebrous portions of + Slattery's Riverside Park, to put his arm around her waist and kiss her. + So much did Lise's virtue allow, and no more, the result being that he + existed in a tantalizing state of hope and excitement most detrimental to + the nerves. + </p> + <p> + He never lost, however,—in public at least, or before Lise's family,—the + fine careless, jaunty air of the demonstrator, of the free-lance for whom + seventy miles an hour has no terrors; the automobile, apparently, like the + ship, sets a stamp upon its votaries. No Elizabethan buccaneer swooping + down on defenceless coasts ever exceeded in audacity Mr. Wiley's invasion + of quiet Fillmore Street. He would draw up with an ear-splitting screaming + of brakes in front of the clay-yellow house, and sometimes the muffler, as + though unable to repress its approval of the performance, would let out a + belated pop that never failed to jar the innermost being of Auermann, who + had been shot at, or rather shot past, by an Italian, and knew what it + was. He hated automobiles, he hated Mr. Wiley. + </p> + <p> + “Vat you do?” he would demand, glaring. + </p> + <p> + And Mr. Wiley would laugh insolently. + </p> + <p> + “You think I done it, do you, Dutchie—huh!” + </p> + <p> + He would saunter past, up the stairs, and into the Bumpus dining-room, + often before the family had finished their evening meal. Lise alone made + him welcome, albeit demurely; but Mr. Wiley, not having sensibilities, was + proof against Hannah's coldness and Janet's hostility. With unerring + instinct he singled out Edward as his victim. + </p> + <p> + “How's Mr. Bumpus this evening?” he would genially inquire. + </p> + <p> + Edward invariably assured Mr. Wiley that he was well, invariably took a + drink of coffee to emphasize the fact, as though the act of lifting his + cup had in it some magic to ward off the contempt of his wife and elder + daughter. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I've got it pretty straight that the Arundel's going to run nights, + starting next week,” Lise's suitor would continue. + </p> + <p> + And to save his soul Edward could not refrain from answering, “You don't + say so!” He feigned interest in the information that the Hampton Ball + Team, owing to an unsatisfactory season, was to change managers next year. + Mr. Wiley possessed the gift of gathering recondite bits of news, he had + confidence in his topics and in his manner of dealing with them; and + Edward, pretending to be entertained, went so far in his politeness as to + ask Mr. Wiley if he had had supper. + </p> + <p> + “I don't care if I sample one of Mis' Bumpus's doughnuts,” Mr. Wiley would + reply politely, reaching out a large hand that gave evidence, in spite of + Sapolio, of an intimacy with grease cups and splash pans. “I guess there's + nobody in this burg can make doughnuts to beat yours, Miss Bumpus.” + </p> + <p> + If she had only known which doughnut he would take; Hannah sometimes + thought she might have been capable of putting arsenic in it. Her icy + silence did not detract from the delights of his gestation. + </p> + <p> + Occasionally, somewhat to Edward's alarm, Hannah demanded: “Where are you + taking Lise this evening?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Wiley's wisdom led him to be vague. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, just for a little spin up the boulevard. Maybe we'll pick up Ella + Schuler and one or two other young ladies.” + </p> + <p> + Hannah and Janet knew very well he had no intention of doing this, and + Hannah did not attempt to conceal her incredulity. As a matter of fact, + Lise sometimes did insist on a “party.” + </p> + <p> + “I want you should bring her back by ten o'clock. That's late enough for a + girl who works to be out. It's late enough for any girl.” + </p> + <p> + “Sure, Mis' Bumpus,” Wiley would respond easily. + </p> + <p> + Hannah chafed because she had no power to enforce this, because Mr. Wiley + and Lise understood she had no power. Lise went to put on her hat; if she + skimped her toilet in the morning, she made up for it in the evening when + she came home from the store, and was often late for supper. In the + meantime, while Lise was in the bedroom adding these last touches, Edward + would contemptibly continue the conversation, fingering the Evening Banner + as it lay in his lap, while Mr. Wiley helped himself boldly to another + doughnut, taking—as Janet observed—elaborate precautions to + spill none of the crumbs on a brown suit, supposed to be the last creation + in male attire. Behind a plate glass window in Faber Street, belonging to + a firm of “custom” tailors whose stores had invaded every important city + in the country, and who made clothes for “college” men, only the week + before Mr. Wiley had seen this same suit artistically folded, combined + with a coloured shirt, brown socks, and tie and “torture” collar—lures + for the discriminating. Owing to certain expenses connected with Lise, he + had been unable to acquire the shirt and the tie, but he had bought the + suit in the hope and belief that she would find him irresistible therein. + It pleased him, too, to be taken for a “college” man, and on beholding in + the mirror his broadened shoulders and diminished waist he was quite + convinced his money had not been spent in vain; that strange young ladies—to + whom, despite his infatuation for the younger Miss Bumpus, he was not + wholly indifferent—would mistake him for an undergraduate of + Harvard,—an imposition concerning which he had no scruples. But + Lise, though shaken, had not capitulated..... + </p> + <p> + When she returned to the dining-room, arrayed in her own finery, demure, + triumphant, and had carried off Mr. Whey there would ensue an interval of + silence broken only by the clattering together of the dishes Hannah + snatched up. + </p> + <p> + “I guess he's the kind of son-in-law would suit you,” she threw over her + shoulder once to Edward. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” he inquired, letting down his newspaper nervously. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you seem to favour him, to make things as pleasant for him as you + can.” + </p> + <p> + Edward would grow warm with a sense of injustice, the inference being that + he was to blame for Mr. Wiley; if he had been a different kind of father + another sort of suitor would be courting Lise. + </p> + <p> + “I have to be civil,” he protested. He pronounced that, word “civil” + exquisitely, giving equal value to both syllables. + </p> + <p> + “Civil!” Hannah scoffed, as she left the room; and to Janet, who had + followed her into the kitchen, she added: “That's the trouble with your + father, he's always be'n a little too civil. Edward Bumpus is just as + simple as a child, he's afraid of offending folks' feelings.... Think of + being polite to that Whey!” In those two words Hannah announced eloquently + her utter condemnation of the demonstrator of the Wizard. It was + characteristic of her, however, when she went back for another load of + dishes and perceived that Edward was only pretending to read his Banner, + to attempt to ease her husband's feelings. She thought it queer because + she was still fond of Edward Bumpus, after all he had “brought on her.” + </p> + <p> + “It's Lise,” she said, as though speaking to Janet, “she attracts 'em. + Sometimes I just can't get used to it that she's my daughter. I don't know + who she takes after. She's not like any of my kin, nor any of the + Bumpuses.” + </p> + <p> + “What can you do?” asked Edward. “You can't order him out of the house. + It's better for him to come here. And you can't stop Lise from going with + him—she's earning her own money....” + </p> + <p> + They had talked over the predicament before, and always came to the same + impasse. In the privacy of the kitchen Hannah paused suddenly in her + energetic rubbing of a plate and with supreme courage uttered a question. + </p> + <p> + “Janet, do you calculate he means anything wrong?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know what he means,” Janet replied, unwilling to give Mr. Wiley + credit for anything, “but I know this, that Lise is too smart to let him + take advantage of her.” + </p> + <p> + Hannah ruminated. Cleverness as the modern substitute for feminine virtue + did not appeal to her, but she let it pass. She was in no mood to quarrel + with any quality that would ward off disgrace. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know what to make of Lise—she don't appear to have any + principles....” + </p> + <p> + If the Wiley affair lasted longer than those preceding it, this was + because former suitors had not commanded automobiles. When Mr. Wiley lost + his automobile he lost his luck—if it may be called such. One April + evening, after a stroll with Eda, Janet reached home about nine o'clock to + find Lise already in their room, to remark upon the absence of Mr. Wiley's + picture from the frame. + </p> + <p> + “I'm through with him,” Lise declared briefly, tugging at her hair. + </p> + <p> + “Through with him?” Janet repeated. + </p> + <p> + Lise paused in her labours and looked at her sister steadily. “I handed + him the mit—do you get me?” + </p> + <p> + “But why?” + </p> + <p> + “Why? I was sick of him—ain't that enough? And then he got mixed up + with a Glendale trolley and smashed his radiator, and the Wizard people + sacked him. I always told him he was too fly. It's lucky for him I wasn't + in the car.” + </p> + <p> + “It's lucky for you,” said Janet. Presently she inquired curiously: + “Aren't you sorry?” + </p> + <p> + “Nix.” Lise shook her head, which was now bowed, her face hidden by hair. + “Didn't I tell you I was sick of him? But he sure was some spender,” she + added, as though in justice bound to give him his due. + </p> + <p> + Janet was shocked by the ruthlessness of it, for Lise appeared relieved, + almost gay. She handed Janet a box containing five peppermint creams—all + that remained of Mr. Wiley's last gift. + </p> + <p> + One morning in the late spring Janet crossed the Warren Street bridge, the + upper of the two spider-like structures to be seen from her office window, + spanning the river beside the great Hampton dam. The day, dedicated to the + memory of heroes fallen in the Civil War, the thirtieth of May, was a + legal holiday. Gradually Janet had acquired a dread of holidays as + opportunities never realized, as intervals that should have been filled + with unmitigated joys, and yet were invariably wasted, usually in walks + with Eda Rawle. To-day, feeling an irresistible longing for freedom, for + beauty, for adventure, for quest and discovery of she knew not what, she + avoided Eda, and after gazing awhile at the sunlight dancing in the white + mist below the falls, she walked on, southward, until she had left behind + her the last straggling houses of the city and found herself on a wide, + tarvia road that led, ultimately, to Boston. So read the sign. + </p> + <p> + Great maples, heavy with leaves, stood out against the soft blue of the + sky, and the sunlight poured over everything, bathing the stone walls, the + thatches of the farmhouses, extracting from the copses of stunted pine a + pungent, reviving perfume. Sometimes she stopped to rest on the pine + needles, and walked on again, aimlessly, following the road because it was + the easiest way. There were spring flowers in the farmhouse yards, masses + of lilacs whose purple she drank in eagerly; the air, which had just a + tang of New England sharpness, was filled with tender sounds, the clucking + of hens, snatches of the songs of birds, the rustling of maple leaves in + the fitful breeze. A chipmunk ran down an elm and stood staring at her + with beady, inquisitive eyes, motionless save for his quivering tail, and + she put forth her hand, shyly, beseechingly, as though he held the secret + of life she craved. But he darted away. + </p> + <p> + She looked around her unceasingly, at the sky, at the trees, at the + flowers and ferns and fields, at the vireos and thrushes, the robins and + tanagers gashing in and out amidst the foliage, and she was filled with a + strange yearning to expand and expand until she should become a part of + all nature, be absorbed into it, cease to be herself. Never before had she + known just that feeling, that degree of ecstasy mingled with divine + discontent.... Occasionally, intruding faintly upon the countryside peace, + she was aware of a distant humming sound that grew louder and louder until + there shot roaring past her an automobile filled with noisy folk, leaving + behind it a suffocating cloud of dust. Even these intrusions, reminders of + the city she had left, were powerless to destroy her mood, and she began + to skip, like a schoolgirl, pausing once in a while to look around her + fearfully, lest she was observed; and it pleased her to think that she had + escaped forever, that she would never go back: she cried aloud, as she + skipped, “I won't go back, I won't go back,” keeping time with her feet + until she was out of breath and almost intoxicated, delirious, casting + herself down, her heart beating wildly, on a bank of ferns, burying her + face in them. She had really stopped because a pebble had got into her + shoe, and as she took it out she looked at her bare heel and remarked + ruefully:—“Those twenty-five cent stockings aren't worth buying!” + </p> + <p> + Economic problems, however, were powerless to worry her to-day, when the + sun shone and the wind blew and the ferns, washed by the rill running + through the culvert under the road, gave forth a delicious moist odour + reminding her of the flower store where her sister Lise had once been + employed. But at length she arose, and after an hour or more of sauntering + the farming landscape was left behind, the crumbling stone fences were + replaced by a well-kept retaining wall capped by a privet hedge, through + which, between stone pillars, a driveway entered and mounted the shaded + slope, turning and twisting until lost to view. But afar, standing on the + distant crest, through the tree trunks and foliage Janet saw one end of + the mansion to which it led, and ventured timidly but eagerly in among the + trees in the hope of satisfying her new-born curiosity. Try as she would, + she never could get any but disappointing and partial glimpses of a house + which, because of the mystery of its setting, fired her imagination, + started her to wondering why it was that some were permitted to live in + the midst of such beauty while she was condemned to spend her days in + Fillmore Street and the prison of the mill. She was not even allowed to + look at it! The thought was like a cloud across the sun. + </p> + <p> + However, when she had regained the tarvia road and walked a little way the + shadow suddenly passed, and she stood surprised. The sight of a long + common with its ancient trees in the fullness of glory, dense maples, + sturdy oaks, strong, graceful elms that cast flickering, lacy shadows + across the road filled her with satisfaction, with a sense of peace + deepened by the awareness, in the background, ranged along the common on + either side, of stately, dignified buildings, each in an appropriate frame + of foliage. With the essence rather than the detail of all this her + consciousness became steeped; she was naturally ignorant of the great good + fortune of Silliston Academy of having been spared with one or two + exceptions—donations during those artistically lean years of the + nineteenth century when American architecture affected the Gothic, the + Mansard, and the subsequent hybrid. She knew this must be Silliston, the + seat of that famous academy of which she had heard. + </p> + <p> + The older school buildings and instructors' houses, most of them white or + creamy yellow, were native Colonial, with tall, graceful chimneys and + classic pillars and delicate balustrades, eloquent at once of the racial + inheritance of the Republic and of a bygone individuality, dignity, and + pride. And the modern architect, of whose work there was an abundance, had + graciously and intuitively held this earlier note and developed it. He was + an American, but an American who had been trained. The result was harmony, + life as it should proceed, the new growing out of the old. And no greater + tribute can be paid to Janet Bumpus than that it pleased her, struck and + set exquisitely vibrating within her responsive chords. For the first time + in her adult life she stood in the presence of tradition, of a tradition + inherently if unconsciously the innermost reality of her being a tradition + that miraculously was not dead, since after all the years it had begun to + put forth these vigorous shoots.... + </p> + <p> + What Janet chiefly realized was the delicious, contented sense of having + come, visually at least, to the home for which she had longed. But her + humour was that of a child who has strayed, to find its true dwelling + place in a region of beauty hitherto unexplored and unexperienced, tinged, + therefore, with unreality, with mystery,—an effect enhanced by the + chance stillness and emptiness of the place. She wandered up and down the + Common, whose vivid green was starred with golden dandelions; and then, + spying the arched and shady vista of a lane, entered it, bent on new + discoveries. It led past one of the newer buildings, the library—as + she read in a carved inscription over the door—plunged into shade + again presently to emerge at a square farmhouse, ancient and weathered, + with a great square chimney thrust out of the very middle of the + ridge-pole,—a landmark left by one of the earliest of Silliston's + settlers. Presiding over it, embracing and protecting it, was a splendid + tree. The place was evidently in process of reconstruction and repair, the + roof had been newly shingled, new frames, with old-fashioned, tiny panes + had been put in the windows; a little garden was being laid out under the + sheltering branches of the tree, and between the lane and the garden, half + finished, was a fence of an original and pleasing design, consisting of + pillars placed at intervals with upright pickets between, the pickets + sawed in curves, making a line that drooped in the middle. Janet did not + perceive the workman engaged in building this fence until the sound of his + hammer attracted her attention. His back was bent, he was absorbed in his + task. + </p> + <p> + “Are there any stores near here?” she inquired. + </p> + <p> + He straightened up. “Why yes,” he replied, “come to think of it, I have + seen stores, I'm sure I have.” + </p> + <p> + Janet laughed; his expression, his manner of speech were so delightfully + whimsical, so in keeping with the spirit of her day, and he seemed to + accept her sudden appearance in the precise make-believe humour she could + have wished. And yet she stood a little struck with timidity, puzzled by + the contradictions he presented of youth and age, of shrewdness, + experience and candour, of gentility and manual toil. He must have been + about thirty-five; he was hatless, and his hair, uncombed but not unkempt, + was greying at the temples; his eyes—which she noticed particularly—were + keen yet kindly, the irises delicately stencilled in a remarkable blue; + his speech was colloquial yet cultivated, his workman's clothes belied his + bearing. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, there are stores, in the village,” he went on, “but isn't it a + holiday, or Sunday—perhaps—or something of the kind?” + </p> + <p> + “It's Decoration Day,” she reminded him, with deepening surprise. + </p> + <p> + “So it is! And all the storekeepers have gone on picnics in their + automobiles, or else they're playing golf. Nobody's working today.” + </p> + <p> + “But you—aren't you working?” she inquired. + </p> + <p> + “Working?” he repeated. “I suppose some people would call it work. I—I + hadn't thought of it in that way.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean—you like it,” Janet was inspired to say. + </p> + <p> + “Well, yes,” he confessed. “I suppose I do.” + </p> + <p> + Her cheeks dimpled. If her wonder had increased, her embarrassment had + flown, and he seemed suddenly an old acquaintance. She had, however, + profound doubts now of his being a carpenter. + </p> + <p> + “Were you thinking of going shopping?” he asked, and at the very + ludicrousness of the notion she laughed again. She discovered a keen + relish for this kind of humour, but it was new to her experience, and she + could not cope with it. + </p> + <p> + “Only to buy some crackers, or a sandwich,” she replied, and blushed. + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” he said. “Down in the village, on the corner where the cars stop, is + a restaurant. It's not as good as the Parker House in Boston, I believe, + but they do have sandwiches, yes, and coffee. At least they call it + coffee.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, thank you,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “You'd better wait till you try it,” he warned her. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don't mind, I don't want much.” And she was impelled to add: “It's + such a beautiful day.” + </p> + <p> + “It's absurd to get hungry on such a day—absurd,” he agreed. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it is,” she laughed. “I'm not really hungry, but I haven't time to + get back to Hampton for dinner.” Suddenly she grew hot at the thought that + he might suspect her of hinting. “You see, I live in Hampton,” she went on + hurriedly, “I'm a stenographer there, in the Chippering Mill, and I was + just out for a walk, and—I came farther than I intended.” She had + made it worse. + </p> + <p> + But he said, “Oh, you came from Hampton!” with an intonation of surprise, + of incredulity even, that soothed and even amused while it did not deceive + her. Not that the superior intelligence of which she had begun to suspect + him had been put to any real test by the discovery of her home, and she + was quite sure her modest suit of blue serge and her $2.99 pongee blouse + proclaimed her as a working girl of the mill city. “I've been to Hampton,” + he declared, just as though it were four thousand miles away instead of + four. + </p> + <p> + “But I've never been here before, to Silliston,” she responded in the same + spirit: and she added wistfully, “it must be nice to live in such a + beautiful place as this!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it is nice,” he agreed. “We have our troubles, too,—but it's + nice.” + </p> + <p> + She ventured a second, appraising glance. His head, which he carried a + little flung back, his voice, his easy and confident bearing—all + these contradicted the saw and the hammer, the flannel shirt, open at the + neck, the khaki trousers still bearing the price tag. And curiosity + beginning to get the better of her, she was emboldened to pay a compliment + to the fence. If one had to work, it must be a pleasure to work on things + pleasing to the eye—such was her inference. + </p> + <p> + “Why, I'm glad you like it,” he said heartily. “I was just hoping some one + would come along here and admire it. Now—what colour would you paint + it?” + </p> + <p> + “Are you a painter, too?” + </p> + <p> + “After a fashion. I'm a sort of man of all work—I thought of + painting it white, with the pillars green.” + </p> + <p> + “I think that would be pretty,” she answered, judicially, after a moment's + thought. “What else can you do?” + </p> + <p> + He appeared to be pondering his accomplishments. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I can doctor trees,” he said, pointing an efficient finger at the + magnificent maple sheltering, like a guardian deity, the old farmhouse. “I + put in those patches.” + </p> + <p> + “They're cement,” she exclaimed. “I never heard of putting cement in + trees.” + </p> + <p> + “They don't seem to mind.” + </p> + <p> + “Are the holes very deep?” + </p> + <p> + “Pretty deep.” + </p> + <p> + “But I should think the tree would be dead.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you see the life of a tree is right under the bark. If you can keep + the outer covering intact, the tree will live.” + </p> + <p> + “Why did you let the holes get so deep?” + </p> + <p> + “I've just come here. The house was like the tree the shingles all rotten, + but the beams were sound. Those beams were hewn out of the forest two + hundred and fifty years ago.” + </p> + <p> + “Gracious!” said Janet. “And how old is the tree?” + </p> + <p> + “I should say about a hundred. I suppose it wouldn't care to admit it.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know?” she inquired. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'm very intimate with trees. I find out their secrets.” + </p> + <p> + “It's your house!” she exclaimed, somewhat appalled by the discovery. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—yes it is,” he answered, looking around at it and then in an + indescribably comical manner down at his clothes. His gesture, his + expression implied that her mistake was a most natural one. + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me, I thought—” she began, blushing hotly, yet wanting to + laugh again. + </p> + <p> + “I don't blame you—why shouldn't you?” he interrupted her. “I + haven't got used to it yet, and there is something amusing about—my + owning a house. When the parlour's finished I'll have to wear a stiff + collar, I suppose, in order to live up to it.” + </p> + <p> + Her laughter broke forth, and she tried to imagine him in a stiff + collar.... But she was more perplexed than ever. She stood balancing on + one foot, poised for departure. + </p> + <p> + “I ought to be going,” she said, as though she had been paying him a + formal visit. + </p> + <p> + “Don't hurry,” he protested cordially. “Why hurry back to Hampton?” + </p> + <p> + “I never want to go back!” she cried with a vehemence that caused him to + contemplate her anew, suddenly revealing the intense, passionate quality + which had so disturbed Mr. Ditmar. She stood transformed. “I hate it!” she + declared. “It's so ugly, I never want to see it again.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it is ugly,” he confessed. “Since you admit it, I don't mind saying + so. But it's interesting, in a way.” Though his humorous moods had + delighted her, she felt subtly flattered because he had grown more + serious. + </p> + <p> + “It is interesting,” she agreed. She was almost impelled to tell him why, + in her excursions to the various quarters, she had found Hampton + interesting, but a shyness born of respect for the store of knowledge she + divined in him restrained her. She was curious to know what this man saw + in Hampton. His opinion would be worth something. Unlike her neighbours in + Fillmore Street, he was not what her sister Lise would call “nutty”; he + had an air of fine sanity, of freedom, of detachment,—though the + word did not occur to her; he betrayed no bitter sense of injustice, and + his beliefs were uncoloured by the obsession of a single panacea. “Why do + you think it's interesting?” she demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'm always expecting to hear that it's blown up. It reminds me of + nitro-glycerine,” he added, smiling. + </p> + <p> + She repeated the word. + </p> + <p> + “An explosive, you know—they put it in dynamite. They say a man once + made it by accident, and locked up his laboratory and ran home—and + never went back.” + </p> + <p> + “I know what you mean!” she cried, her eyes alight with excitement. “All + those foreigners! I've felt it that something would happen, some day, it + frightened me, and yet I wished that something would happen. Only, I never + would have thought of—nitro-glycerine.” + </p> + <p> + She was unaware of the added interest in his regard. But he answered + lightly enough:—“Oh, not only the foreigners. Human chemicals—you + can't play with human chemicals any more than you can play with real ones—you've + got to know something about chemistry.” + </p> + <p> + This remark was beyond her depth. + </p> + <p> + “Who is playing with them?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Everybody—no one in particular. Nobody seems to know much about + them, yet,” he replied, and seemed disinclined to pursue the subject. A + robin with a worm in its bill was hopping across the grass; he whistled + softly, the bird stopped, cocking its head and regarding them. Suddenly, + in conflict with her desire to remain indefinitely talking with this + strange man, Janet felt an intense impulse to leave. She could bear the + conversation no longer, she might burst into tears—such was the + extraordinary effect he had produced on her. + </p> + <p> + “I must go,—I'm ever so much obliged to you,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Drop in again,” he said, as he took her trembling hand.... When she had + walked a little way she looked back over her shoulder to see him leaning + idly against the post, gazing after her, and waving his hammer in friendly + fashion. + </p> + <p> + For a while her feet fairly flew, and her heart beat tumultuously, keeping + time with her racing thoughts. She walked about the Common, seeing + nothing, paying no attention to the passers-by, who glanced at her + curiously. But at length as she grew calmer the needs of a youthful and + vigorous body became imperative, and realizing suddenly that she was tired + and hungry, sought and found the little restaurant in the village below. + She journeyed back to Hampton pondering what this man had said to her; + speculating, rather breathlessly, whether he had been impelled to + conversation by a natural kindness and courtesy, or whether he really had + discovered something in her worthy of addressing, as he implied. + Resentment burned in her breast, she became suddenly blinded by tears: she + might never see him again, and if only she were “educated” she might know + him, become his friend. Even in this desire she was not conventional, and + in the few moments of their contact he had developed rather than + transformed what she meant by “education.” She thought of it not as + knowledge reeking of books and schools, but as the acquirement of the + freemasonry which he so evidently possessed, existence on terms of + understanding, confidence, and freedom with nature; as having the world + open up to one like a flower filled with colour and life. She thought of + the robin, of the tree whose secrets he had learned, of a mental range + including even that medley of human beings amongst whom she lived. And the + fact that something of his meaning had eluded her grasp made her rebel all + the more bitterly against the lack of a greater knowledge.... + </p> + <p> + Often during the weeks that followed he dwelt in her mind as she sat at + her desk and stared out across the river, and several times that summer + she started to walk to Silliston. But always she turned back. Perhaps she + feared to break the charm of that memory.... + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV + </h2> + <p> + Our American climate is notoriously capricious. Even as Janet trudged + homeward on that Memorial Day afternoon from her Cinderella-like adventure + in Silliston the sun grew hot, the air lost its tonic, becoming moist and + tepid, white clouds with dark edges were piled up in the western sky. The + automobiles of the holiday makers swarmed ceaselessly over the tarvia. + Valiantly as she strove to cling to her dream, remorseless reality was at + work dragging her back, reclaiming her; excitement and physical exercise + drained her vitality, her feet were sore, sadness invaded her as she came + in view of the ragged outline of the city she had left so joyfully in the + morning. Summer, that most depressing of seasons in an environment of drab + houses and grey pavements, was at hand, listless householders and their + families were already, seeking refuge on front steps she passed on her way + to Fillmore Street. + </p> + <p> + It was about half past five when she arrived. Lise, her waist removed, was + seated in a rocking chair at the window overlooking the littered yards and + the backs of the tenements on Rutger Street. And Lise, despite the + heaviness of the air, was dreaming. Of such delicate texture was the + fabric of Janet's dreams that not only sordid reality, but contact with + other dreams of a different nature, such as her sister's, often sufficed + to dissolve them. She resented, for instance, the presence in the plush + oval of Mr. Eustace Arlington; the movie star whose likeness had replaced + Mr. Wiley's, and who had played the part of the western hero in “Leila of + Hawtrey's.” With his burning eyes and sensual face betraying the puffiness + that comes from over-indulgence, he was not Janet's ideal of a hero, + western or otherwise. And now Lise was holding a newspaper: not the + Banner, whose provinciality she scorned, but a popular Boston sheet to be + had for a cent, printed at ten in the morning and labelled “Three O'clock + Edition,” with huge red headlines stretched across the top of the page:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “JURY FINDS IN MISS NEALY'S FAVOR.” + </pre> + <p> + As Janet entered Lise looked up and exclaimed:—“Say, that Nealy + girl's won out!” + </p> + <p> + “Who is she?” Janet inquired listlessly. + </p> + <p> + “You are from the country, all right,” was her sister's rejoinder. “I + would have bet there wasn't a Reub in the state that wasn't wise to the + Ferris breach of promise case, and here you blow in after the show's over + and want to know who Nelly Nealy is. If that doesn't beat the band!” + </p> + <p> + “This woman sued a man named Ferris—is that it?” + </p> + <p> + “A man named Ferris!” Lise repeated, with the air of being appalled by her + sister's ignorance. “I guess you never heard of Ferris, either—the + biggest copper man in Boston. He could buy Hampton, and never feel it, and + they say his house in Brighton cost half a million dollars. Nelly Nealy + put her damages at one hundred and fifty thousand and stung him for + seventy five. I wish I'd been in court when that jury came back! There's + her picture.” + </p> + <p> + To Janet, especially in the mood of reaction in which she found herself + that evening, Lise's intense excitement, passionate partisanship and + approval of Miss Nealy were incomprehensible, repellent. However, she took + the sheet, gazing at the image of the lady who, recently an obscure + stenographer, had suddenly leaped into fame and become a “headliner,” the + envied of thousands of working girls all over New England. Miss Nealy, in + spite of the “glare of publicity” she deplored, had borne up admirably + under the strain, and evidently had been able to consume three meals a day + and give some thought to her costumes. Her smile under the picture hat was + coquettish, if not bold. The special article, signed by a lady reporter + whose sympathies were by no means concealed and whose talents were given + free rein, related how the white-haired mother had wept tears of joy; how + Miss Nealy herself had been awhile too overcome to speak, and then had + recovered sufficiently to express her gratitude to the twelve gentlemen + who had vindicated the honour of American womanhood. Mr. Ferris, she + reiterated, was a brute; never as long as she lived would she be able to + forget how she had loved and believed in him, and how, when at length she + unwillingly became convinces of his perfidy, she had been “prostrated,” + unable to support her old mother. She had not, naturally, yet decided how + she would invest her fortune; as for going on the stage, that had been + suggested, but she had made no plans. “Scores of women sympathizers” had + escorted her to a waiting automobile.... + </p> + <p> + Janet, impelled by the fascination akin to disgust, read thus far, and + flinging the newspaper on the floor, began to tidy herself for supper. But + presently, when she heard Lise sigh, she could contain herself no longer. + </p> + <p> + “I don't see how you can read such stuff as that,” she exclaimed. “It's—it's + horrible.” + </p> + <p> + “Horrible?” Lise repeated. + </p> + <p> + Janet swung round from the washbasin, her hands dripping. + </p> + <p> + “Instead of getting seventy five thousand dollars she ought to be tarred + and feathered. She's nothing but a blackmailer.” + </p> + <p> + Lise, aroused from her visions, demanded vehemently “Ain't he a + millionaire?” + </p> + <p> + “What difference does that make?” Janet retorted. “And you can't tell me + she didn't know what she was up to all along—with that face.” + </p> + <p> + “I'd have sued him, all right,” declared Lise, defiantly. + </p> + <p> + “Then you'd be a blackmailer, too. I'd sooner scrub floors, I'd sooner + starve than do such a thing—take money for my affections. In the + first place, I'd have more pride, and in the second place, if I really + loved a man, seventy five thousand or seventy five million dollars + wouldn't help me any. Where do you get such ideas? Decent people don't + have them.” + </p> + <p> + Janet turned to the basin again and began rubbing her face vigorously—ceasing + for an instance to make sure of the identity of a sound reaching her ears + despite the splashing of water. Lise was sobbing. Janet dried her face and + hands, arranged her hair, and sat down on the windowsill; the scorn and + anger, which had been so intense as completely to possess her, melting + into a pity and contempt not unmixed with bewilderment. Ordinarily Lise + was hard, impervious to such reproaches, holding her own in the passionate + quarrels that occasionally took place between them yet there were times, + such as this, when her resistance broke down unexpectedly, and she lost + all self control. She rocked to and fro in the chair, her shoulders bowed, + her face hidden in her hands. Janet reached out and touched her. + </p> + <p> + “Don't be silly,” she began, rather sharply, “just because I said it was a + disgrace to have such ideas. Well, it is.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not silly,” said Lise. “I'm sick of that job at the Bagatelle”—sob—“there's + nothing in it—I'm going to quit—I wish to God I was dead! + Standing on your feet all day till you're wore out for six dollars a week—what's + there in it?”—sob—“With that guy Walters who walks the floor + never lettin' up on you. He come up to me yesterday and says, 'I didn't + know you was near sighted, Miss Bumpus' just because there was a customer + Annie Hatch was too lazy to wait on”—sob—“That's his line of + dope—thinks he's sarcastic—and he's sweet on Annie. Tomorrow + I'm going to tell him to go to hell. I'm through I'm sick of it, I tell + you”—sob—“I'd rather be dead than slave like that for six + dollars.” + </p> + <p> + “Where are you going?” asked Janet. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know—I don't care. What's the difference? any place'd be + better than this.” For awhile she continued to cry on a ridiculously high, + though subdued, whining note, her breath catching at intervals. A feeling + of helplessness, of utter desolation crept over Janet; powerless to + comfort herself, how could she comfort her sister? She glanced around the + familiar, sordid room, at the magazine pages against the faded wall-paper, + at the littered bureau and the littered bed, over which Lise's clothes + were flung. It was hot and close even now, in summer it would be stifling. + Suddenly a flash of sympathy revealed to her a glimpse of the truth that + Lise, too, after her own nature, sought beauty and freedom! Never did she + come as near comprehending Lise as in such moments as this, and when, on + dark winter mornings, her sister clung to her, terrified by the siren. + Lise was a child, and the thought that she, Janet, was powerless to change + her was a part of the tragic tenderness. What would become of Lise? And + what would become of her, Janet?... So she clung, desperately, to her + sister's hand until at last Lise roused herself, her hair awry, her face + puckered and wet with tears and perspiration. + </p> + <p> + “I can't stand it any more—I've just got to go away anywhere,” she + said, and the cry found an echo in Janet's heart.... + </p> + <p> + But the next morning Lise went back to the Bagatelle, and Janet to the + mill.... + </p> + <p> + The fact that Lise's love affairs had not been prospering undoubtedly had + something to do with the fit of depression into which she had fallen that + evening. A month or so before she had acquired another beau. It was + understood by Lise's friends and Lise's family, though not by the + gentleman himself, that his position was only temporary or at most + probationary; he had not even succeeded to the rights, title, and + privileges of the late Mr. Wiley, though occupying a higher position in + the social scale—being the agent of a patent lawn sprinkler with an + office in Faber Street. + </p> + <p> + “Stick to him and you'll wear diamonds—that's what he tries to put + across,” was Lise's comment on Mr. Frear's method, and thus Janet gained + the impression that her sister's feelings were not deeply involved. “If I + thought he'd make good with the sprinkler I might talk business. But say, + he's one of those ginks that's always tryin' to beat the bank. He's never + done a day's work in his life. Last year he was passing around Foley's + magazine, and before that he was with the race track that went out of + business because the ministers got nutty over it. Well, he may win out,” + she added reflectively, “those guys sometimes do put the game on the + blink. He sure is a good spender when the orders come in, with a line of + talk to make you holler for mercy.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Frear's “line of talk” came wholly, astonishingly, from one side of + his mouth—the left side. As a muscular feat it was a triumph. A deaf + person on his right side would not have known he was speaking. The effect + was secretive, extraordinarily confidential; enabling him to sell + sprinklers, it ought to have helped him to make love, so distinctly + personal was it, implying as it did that the individual addressed was + alone of all the world worthy of consideration. Among his friends it was + regarded as an accomplishment, but Lise was critical, especially since he + did not look into one's eyes, but gazed off into space, as though he + weren't talking at all. + </p> + <p> + She had once inquired if the right side of his face was paralyzed. + </p> + <p> + She permitted him to take her, however, to Gruber's Cafe, to the movies, + and one or two select dance halls, and to Slattery's Riverside Park, where + one evening she had encountered the rejected Mr. Wiley. + </p> + <p> + “Say, he was sore!” she told Janet the next morning, relating the incident + with relish, “for two cents he would have knocked Charlie over the ropes. + I guess he could do it, too, all right.” + </p> + <p> + Janet found it curious that Lise should display such vindictiveness toward + Mr. Wiley, who was more sinned against than sinning. She was moved to + inquire after his welfare. + </p> + <p> + “He's got one of them red motorcycles,” said Lise. “He was gay with it too—when + we was waiting for the boulevard trolley he opened her up and went right + between Charlie and me. I had to laugh. He's got a job over in Haverhill + you can't hold that guy under water long.” + </p> + <p> + Apparently Lise had no regrets. But her premonitions concerning Mr. Frear + proved to be justified. He did not “make good.” One morning the little + office on Faber Street where the sprinklers were displayed was closed, + Hampton knew him no more, and the police alone were sincerely regretful. + It seemed that of late he had been keeping all the money for the + sprinklers, and spending a good deal of it on Lise. At the time she + accepted the affair with stoical pessimism, as one who has learned what to + expect of the world, though her moral sense was not profoundly disturbed + by the reflection that she had indulged in the delights of Slattery's and + Gruber's and a Sunday at “the Beach” at the expense of the Cascade + Sprinkler Company of Boston. Mr. Frear inconsiderately neglected to + prepare her for his departure, the news of which was conveyed to her in a + singular manner, and by none other than Mr. Johnny Tiernan of the tin + shop,—their conversation throwing some light, not only on Lise's + sophistication, but on the admirable and intricate operation of Hampton's + city government. About five o'clock Lise was coming home along Fillmore + Street after an uneventful, tedious and manless holiday spent in the + company of Miss Schuler and other friends when she perceived Mr. Tiernan + seated on his steps, grinning and waving a tattered palm-leaf fan. + </p> + <p> + “The mercury is sure on the jump,” he observed. “You'd think it was July.” + </p> + <p> + And Lise agreed. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose you'll be going to Tim Slattery's place tonight,” he went on. + “It's the coolest spot this side of the Atlantic Ocean.” + </p> + <p> + There was, apparently, nothing cryptic in this remark, yet it is worth + noting that Lise instantly became suspicious. + </p> + <p> + “Why would I be going out there?” she inquired innocently, darting at him + a dark, coquettish glance. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Tiernan regarded her guilelessly, but there was admiration in his + soul; not because of her unquestioned feminine attractions,—he being + somewhat amazingly proof against such things,—but because it was + conveyed to him in some unaccountable way that her suspicions were + aroused. The brain beneath that corkscrew hair was worthy of a Richelieu. + Mr. Tiernan's estimate of Miss Lise Bumpus, if he could have been induced + to reveal it, would have been worth listening to. + </p> + <p> + “And why wouldn't you?” he replied heartily. “Don't I see all the pretty + young ladies out there, including yourself, and you dancing with the + Cascade man. Why is it you'll never give me a dance?” + </p> + <p> + “Why is it you never ask me?” demanded Lise. + </p> + <p> + “What chance have I got, against him?” + </p> + <p> + “He don't own me,” said Lise. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Tiernan threw back his head, and laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Well, if you're there to-night, tangoin' with him and I come up and says, + 'Miss Bumpus, the pleasure is mine,' I'm wondering what would happen.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not going to Slattery's to-night,” she declared having that instant + arrived at this conclusion. + </p> + <p> + “And where then? I'll come along, if there's a chance for me.” + </p> + <p> + “Quit your kidding,” Lise reproved him. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Tiernan suddenly looked very solemn: + </p> + <p> + “Kidding, is it? Me kiddin' you? Give me a chance, that's all I'm asking. + Where will you be, now?” + </p> + <p> + “Is Frear wanted?” she demanded. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Tiernan's expression changed. His nose seemed to become more pointed, + his eyes to twinkle more merrily than ever. He didn't take the trouble, + now, to conceal his admiration. + </p> + <p> + “Sure, Miss Bumpus,” he said, “if you was a man, we'd have you on the + force to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “What's he wanted for?” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Johnny, “a little matter of sprinklin'. He's been sprinklin' + his company's water without a license.” + </p> + <p> + She was silent a moment before she exclaimed:—“I ought to have been + wise that he was a crook!” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Johnny consolingly, “there's others that ought to have been + wise, too. The Cascade people had no business takin' on a man that + couldn't use but half of his mouth.” + </p> + <p> + This seemed to Lise a reflection on her judgment. She proceeded to clear + herself. + </p> + <p> + “He was nothing to me. He never gave me no rest. He used to come 'round + and pester me to go out with him—” + </p> + <p> + “Sure!” interrupted Mr. Tiernan. “Don't I know how it is with the likes of + him! A good time's a good time, and no harm in it. But the point is” and + here he cocked his nose—“the point is, where is he? Where will he be + tonight?” + </p> + <p> + All at once Lise grew vehement, almost tearful. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know—honest to God, I don't. If I did I'd tell you. Last + night he said he might be out of town. He didn't say where he was going.” + She fumbled in her bag, drawing out an imitation lace handkerchief and + pressing it to her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “There now!” exclaimed Mr. Tiernan, soothingly. “How would you know? And + he deceivin' you like he did the company—” + </p> + <p> + “He didn't deceive me,” cried Lise. + </p> + <p> + “Listen,” said Mr. Tiernan, who had risen and laid his hand on her arm. + “It's not young ladies like you that works and are self-respecting that + any one would be troublin', and you the daughter of such a fine man as + your father. Run along, now, I won't be detaining you, Miss Bumpus, and + you'll accept my apology. I guess we'll never see him in Hampton + again....” + </p> + <p> + Some twenty minutes later he sauntered down the street, saluting + acquaintances, and threading his way across the Common entered a grimy + brick building where a huge policeman with an insignia on his arm was + seated behind a desk. Mr. Tiernan leaned on the desk, and reflectively + lighted a Thomas-Jefferson-Five-Cent Cigar, Union Label, the excellencies + of which were set forth on large signs above the “ten foot” buildings on + Faber Street. + </p> + <p> + “She don't know nothing, Mike,” he remarked. “I guess he got wise this + morning.” + </p> + <p> + The sergeant nodded.... + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V + </h2> + <p> + To feel potential within one's self the capacity to live and yet to have + no means of realizing this capacity is doubtless one of the least + comfortable and agreeable of human experiences. Such, as summer came on, + was Janet's case. The memory of that visit to Silliston lingered in her + mind, sometimes to flare up so vividly as to make her existence seem + unbearable. How wonderful, she thought, to be able to dwell in such a + beautiful place, to have as friends and companions such amusing and + intelligent people as the stranger with whom she had talked! Were all the + inhabitants of Silliston like him? They must be, since it was a seat of + learning. Lise's cry, “I've just got to go away, anywhere,” found an echo + in Janet's soul. Why shouldn't she go away? She was capable of taking care + of herself, she was a good stenographer, her salary had been raised twice + in two years,—why should she allow consideration for her family to + stand in the way of what she felt would be self realization? Unconsciously + she was a true modern in that the virtues known as duty and self sacrifice + did not appeal to her,—she got from them neither benefit nor + satisfaction, she understood instinctively that they were impeding to + growth. Unlike Lise, she was able to see life as it is, she did not expect + of it miracles, economic or matrimonial. Nothing would happen unless she + made it happen. She was twenty-one, earning nine dollars a week, of which + she now contributed five to the household,—her father, with + characteristic incompetence, having taken out a larger insurance policy + than he could reasonably carry. Of the remaining four dollars she spent + more than one on lunches, there were dresses and underclothing, shoes and + stockings to buy, in spite of darning and mending; little treats with Eda + that mounted up; and occasionally the dentist—for Janet would not + neglect her teeth as Lise neglected hers. She managed to save something, + but it was very little. And she was desperately unhappy when she + contemplated the grey and monotonous vista of the years ahead, saw herself + growing older and older, driven always by the stern necessity of + accumulating a margin against possible disasters; little by little drying + up, losing, by withering disuse, those rich faculties of enjoyment with + which she was endowed, and which at once fascinated and frightened her. + Marriage, in such an environment, offered no solution; marriage meant + dependence, from which her very nature revolted: and in her existence, + drab and necessitous though it were, was still a remnant of freedom that + marriage would compel her to surrender.... + </p> + <p> + One warm evening, oppressed by such reflections, she had started home when + she remembered having left her bag in the office, and retraced her steps. + As she turned the corner of West Street, she saw, beside the canal and + directly in front of the bridge, a new and smart-looking automobile, + painted crimson and black, of the type known as a runabout, which she + recognized as belonging to Mr. Ditmar. Indeed, at that moment Mr. Ditmar + himself was stepping off the end of the bridge and about to start the + engine when, dropping the crank, he walked to the dashboard and apparently + became absorbed in some mechanisms there. Was it the glance cast in her + direction that had caused him to delay his departure? Janet was seized by + a sudden and rather absurd desire to retreat, but Canal Street being + empty, such an action would appear eccentric, and she came slowly forward, + pretending not to see her employer, ridiculing to herself the idea that he + had noticed her. Much to her annoyance, however, her embarrassment + persisted, and she knew it was due to the memory of certain incidents, + each in itself almost negligible, but cumulatively amounting to a + suspicion that for some months he had been aware of her: many times when + he had passed through the outer office she had felt his eyes upon her, had + been impelled to look up from her work to surprise in them a certain glow + to make her bow her head again in warm confusion. Now, as she approached + him, she was pleasantly but rather guiltily conscious of the more rapid + beating of the blood that precedes an adventure, yet sufficiently + self-possessed to note the becoming nature of the light flannel suit axed + rather rakish Panama he had pushed back from his forehead. It was not + until she had almost passed him that he straightened up, lifted the + Panama, tentatively, and not too far, startling her. + </p> + <p> + “Good afternoon, Miss Bumpus,” he said. “I thought you had gone.” + </p> + <p> + “I left my bag in the office,” she replied, with the outward calmness that + rarely deserted her—the calmness, indeed, that had piqued him and + was leading him on to rashness. + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” he said. “Simmons will get it for you.” Simmons was the watchman who + stood in the vestibule of the office entrance. + </p> + <p> + “Thanks. I can get it myself,” she told him, and would have gone on had he + not addressed her again. “I was just starting out for a spin. What do you + think of the car? It's good looking, isn't it?” He stood off and surveyed + it, laughing a little, and in his laugh she detected a note apologetic, at + variance with the conception she had formed of his character, though not + alien, indeed, to the dust-coloured vigour of the man. She scarcely + recognized Ditmar as he stood there, yet he excited her, she felt from him + an undercurrent of something that caused her inwardly to tremble. “See how + the lines are carried through.” He indicated this by a wave of his hand, + but his eyes were now on her. + </p> + <p> + “It is pretty,” she agreed. + </p> + <p> + In contrast to the defensive tactics which other ladies of his + acquaintance had adopted, tactics of a patently coy and coquettish nature, + this self-collected manner was new and spicy, challenging to powers never + as yet fully exerted while beneath her manner he felt throbbing that rare + and dangerous thing in women, a temperament, for which men have given + their souls. This conviction of her possession of a temperament,—he + could not have defined the word, emotional rather than intellectual, + produced the apologetic attitude she was quick to sense. He had never + been, at least during his maturity, at a loss with the other sex, and he + found the experience delicious. + </p> + <p> + “You like pretty things, I'm sure of that,” he hazarded. But she did not + ask him how he knew, she simply assented. He raised the hood, revealing + the engine. “Isn't that pretty? See how nicely everything is adjusted in + that little space to do the particular work for which it is designed.” + </p> + <p> + Thus appealed to, she came forward and stopped, still standing off a + little way, but near enough to see, gazing at the shining copper caps on + the cylinders, at the bright rods and gears. + </p> + <p> + “It looks intricate,” said Mr. Ditmar, “but really it's very simple. The + gasoline comes in here from the tank behind—this is called the + carburetor, it has a jet to vaporize the gasoline, and the vapour is + sucked into each of these cylinders in turn when the piston moves—like + this.” He sought to explain the action of the piston. “That compresses it, + and then a tiny electric spark comes just at the right moment to explode + it, and the explosion sends the piston down again, and turns the shaft. + Well, all four cylinders have an explosion one right after another, and + that keeps the shaft going.” Whereupon the most important personage in + Hampton, the head of the great Chippering Mill proceeded, for the benefit + of a humble assistant stenographer, to remove the floor boards behind the + dash. “There's the shaft, come here and look at it.” She obeyed, standing + beside him, almost touching him, his arm, indeed, brushing her sleeve, and + into his voice crept a tremor. “The shaft turns the rear wheels by means + of a gear at right angles on the axle, and the rear wheels drive the car. + Do you see?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she answered faintly, honesty compelling her to add: “a little.” + </p> + <p> + He was looking, now, not at the machinery, but intently at her, and she + could feel the blood flooding into her cheeks and temples. She was even + compelled for an instant to return his glance, and from his eyes into hers + leaped a flame that ran scorching through her body. Then she knew with + conviction that the explanation of the automobile had been an excuse; she + had comprehended almost nothing of it, but she had been impressed by the + facility with which he described it, by his evident mastery over it. She + had noticed his hands, how thick his fingers were and close together; yet + how deftly he had used them, without smearing the cuffs of his silk shirt + or the sleeves of his coat with the oil that glistened everywhere. + </p> + <p> + “I like machinery,” he told her as he replaced the boards. “I like to take + care of it myself.” + </p> + <p> + “It must be interesting,” she assented, aware of the inadequacy of the + remark, and resenting in herself an inarticulateness seemingly imposed by + inhibition connected with his nearness. Fascination and antagonism were + struggling within her. Her desire to get away grew desperate. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you for showing it to me.” With an effort of will she moved toward + the bridge, but was impelled by a consciousness of the abruptness of her + departure to look back at him once—and smile, to experience again + the thrill of the current he sped after her. By lifting his hat, a little + higher, a little more confidently than in the first instance, he made her + leaving seem more gracious, the act somehow conveying an acknowledgment on + his part that their relationship had changed. + </p> + <p> + Once across the bridge and in the mill, she fairly ran up the stairs and + into the empty office, to perceive her bag lying on the desk where she had + left it, and sat down for a few minutes beside the window, her heart + pounding in her breast as though she had barely escaped an accident + threatening her with physical annihilation. Something had happened to her + at last! But what did it mean? Where would it lead? Her fear, her + antagonism, of which she was still conscious, her resentment that Ditmar + had thus surreptitiously chosen to approach her in a moment when they were + unobserved were mingled with a throbbing exultation in that he had noticed + her, that there was something in her to attract him in that way, to make + his voice thicker and his smile apologetic when he spoke to her. Of that + “something-in-her” she had been aware before, but never had it been so + unmistakably recognized and beckoned to from without. She was at once + terrified, excited—and flattered. + </p> + <p> + At length, growing calmer, she made her way out of the building. When she + reached the vestibule she had a moment of sharp apprehension, of + paradoxical hope, that Ditmar might still be there, awaiting her. But he + had gone.... + </p> + <p> + In spite of her efforts to dismiss the matter from her mind, to persuade + herself there had been no significance in the encounter, when she was + seated at her typewriter the next morning she experienced a renewal of the + palpitation of the evening before, and at the sound of every step in the + corridor she started. Of this tendency she was profoundly ashamed. And + when at last Ditmar arrived, though the blood rose to her temples, she + kept her eyes fixed on the keys. He went quickly into his room: she was + convinced he had not so much as glanced at her.... As the days went by, + however, she was annoyed by the discovery that his continued ignoring of + her presence brought more resentment than relief, she detected in it a + deliberation implying between them a guilty secret: she hated secrecy, + though secrecy contained a thrill. Then, one morning when she was alone in + the office with young Caldwell, who was absorbed in some reports, Ditmar + entered unexpectedly and looked her full in the eyes, surprising her into + answering his glance before she could turn away, hating herself and hating + him. Hate, she determined, was her prevailing sentiment in regard to Mr. + Ditmar. + </p> + <p> + The following Monday Miss Ottway overtook her, at noon, on the stairs. + </p> + <p> + “Janet, I wanted to speak to you, to tell you I'm leaving,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Leaving!” repeated Janet, who had regarded Miss Ottway as a fixture. + </p> + <p> + “I'm going to Boston,” Miss Ottway explained, in her deep, musical voice. + “I've always wanted to go, I have an unmarried sister there of whom I'm + very fond, and Mr. Ditmar knows that. He's got me a place with the + Treasurer, Mr. Semple.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'm sorry you're going, though of course I'm glad for you,” Janet + said sincerely, for she liked and respected Miss Ottway, and was conscious + in the older woman of a certain kindly interest. + </p> + <p> + “Janet, I've recommended you to Mr. Ditmar for my place.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” cried Janet, faintly. + </p> + <p> + “It was he who asked about you, he thinks you are reliable and quick and + clever, and I was very glad to say a good word for you, my dear, since I + could honestly do so.” Miss Ottway drew Janet's arm through hers and + patted it affectionately. “Of course you'll have to expect some jealousy, + there are older women in the other offices who will think they ought to + have the place, but if you attend to your own affairs, as you always have + done, there won't be any trouble.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I won't take the place, I can't!” Janet cried, so passionately that + Miss Ottway looked at her in surprise. “I'm awfully grateful to you,” she + added, flushing crimson, “I—I'm afraid I'm not equal to it.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense,” said the other with decision. “You'd be very foolish not to + try it. You won't get as much as I do, at first, at any rate, but a little + more money won't be unwelcome, I guess. Mr. Ditmar will speak to you this + afternoon. I leave on Saturday. I'm real glad to do you a good turn, + Janet, and I know you'll get along,” Miss Ottway added impulsively as they + parted at the corner of Faber Street. “I've always thought a good deal of + you.” + </p> + <p> + For awhile Janet stood still, staring after the sturdy figure of her + friend, heedless of the noonday crowd that bumped her. Then she went to + Grady's Quick Lunch Counter and ordered a sandwich and a glass of milk, + which she consumed slowly, profoundly sunk in thought. Presently Eda Rawle + arrived, and noticing her preoccupation, inquired what was the matter. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,” said Janet.... + </p> + <p> + At two o'clock, when Ditmar returned to the office, he called Miss Ottway, + who presently came out to summon Janet to his presence. Fresh, immaculate, + yet virile in his light suit and silk shirt with red stripes, he was + seated at his desk engaged in turning over some papers in a drawer. He + kept her waiting a moment, and then said, with apparent casualness:—“Is + that you, Miss Bumpus? Would you mind closing the door?” + </p> + <p> + Janet obeyed, and again stood before him. He looked up. A suggestion of + tenseness in her pose betraying an inner attitude of alertness, of + defiance, conveyed to him sharply and deliciously once more the + panther-like impression he had received when first, as a woman, she had + come to his notice. The renewed and heightened perception of this feral + quality in her aroused a sense of danger by no means unpleasurable, though + warning him that he was about to take an unprecedented step, being drawn + beyond the limits of caution he had previously set for himself in + divorcing business and sex. Though he was by no means self-convinced of an + intention to push the adventure, preferring to leave its possibilities + open, he strove in voice and manner to be business-like; and instinct, + perhaps, whispered that she might take alarm. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down, Miss Bumpus,” he said pleasantly, as he closed the drawer. + </p> + <p> + She seated herself on an office chair. + </p> + <p> + “Do you like your work here?” he inquired. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Janet. + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” he demanded, staring at her. + </p> + <p> + “Why should I?” she retorted. + </p> + <p> + “Well—what's the trouble with it? It isn't as hard as it would be in + some other places, is it?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not saying anything against the place.” + </p> + <p> + “What, then?” + </p> + <p> + “You asked me if I liked my work. I don't.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why do you do it?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “To live,” she replied. + </p> + <p> + He smiled, but his gesture as he stroked his moustache implied a slight + annoyance at her composure. He found it difficult with this dark, + self-contained young woman to sustain the role of benefactor. + </p> + <p> + “What kind of work would you like to do?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. I haven't got the choice, anyway,” she said. + </p> + <p> + He observed that she did her work well, to which she made no answer. She + refused to help him, although Miss Ottway must have warned her. She acted + as though she were conferring the favour. And yet, clearing his throat, he + was impelled to say:—“Miss Ottway's leaving me, she's going into the + Boston office with Mr. Semple, the treasurer of the corporation. I shall + miss her, she's an able and reliable woman, and she knows my ways.” He + paused, fingering his paper knife. “The fact is, Miss Bumpus, she's spoken + highly of you, she tells me you're quick and accurate and painstaking—I've + noticed that for myself. She seems to think you could do her work, and + recommends that I give you a trial. You understand, of course, that the + position is in a way confidential, and that you could not expect at first, + at any rate, the salary Miss Ottway has had, but I'm willing to offer you + fourteen dollars a week to begin with, and afterwards, if we get along + together, to give you more. What do you say?” + </p> + <p> + “I'd like to try it, Mr. Ditmar,” Janet said, and added nothing, no word + of gratitude or of appreciation to that consent. + </p> + <p> + “Very well then,” he replied, “that's settled. Miss Ottway will explain + things to you, and tell you about my peculiarities. And when she goes you + can take her desk, by the window nearest my door.” + </p> + <p> + Ditmar sat idle for some minutes after she had gone, staring through the + open doorway into the outer office.... + </p> + <p> + To Ditmar she had given no evidence of the storm his offer had created in + her breast, and it was characteristic also that she waited until supper + was nearly over to inform her family, making the announcement in a + matter-of-fact tone, just as though it were not the unique piece of good + fortune that had come to the Bumpuses since Edward had been eliminated + from the mercantile establishment at Dolton. The news was received with + something like consternation. For the moment Hannah was incapable of + speech, and her hand trembled as she resumed the cutting of the pie: but + hope surged within her despite her effort to keep it down, her + determination to remain true to the fatalism from which she had + paradoxically derived so much comfort. The effect on Edward, while + somewhat less violent, was temporarily to take away his appetite. Hope, to + flower in him, needed but little watering. Great was his faith in the + Bumpus blood, and secretly he had always regarded his eldest daughter as + the chosen vessel for their redemption. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I swan!” he exclaimed, staring at her in admiration and neglecting + his pie, “I've always thought you had it in you to get on, Janet. I guess + I've told you you've always put me in mind of Eliza Bumpus—the one + that held out against the Indians till her husband came back with the + neighbours. I was just reading about her again the other night.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you've told us, Edward,” said Hannah. + </p> + <p> + “She had gumption,” he went on, undismayed. “And from what I can gather of + her looks I calculate you favour her—she was dark and not so very + tall—not so tall as you, I guess. So you're goin'” (he pronounced it + very slowly) “you're goin' to be Mr. Ditmar's private stenographer! He's a + smart man, Mr. Ditmar, he's a good man, too. All you've got to do is to + behave right by him. He always speaks to me when he passes by the gate. I + was sorry for him when his wife died—a young woman, too. And he's + never married again! Well, I swan!” + </p> + <p> + “You'd better quit swanning,” exclaimed Hannah. “And what's Mr. Ditmar's + goodness got to do with it? He's found-out Janet has sense, she's willing + and hard working, he won't” (pronounced want) “he won't be the loser by + it, and he's not giving her what he gave Miss Ottway. It's just like you, + thinking he's doing her a good turn.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not saying Janet isn't smart,” he protested, “but I know it's hard to + get work with so many folks after every job.” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe it ain't so hard when you've got some get-up and go,” Hannah + retorted rather cruelly. It was thus characteristically and with + unintentional sharpness she expressed her maternal pride by a reflection + not only upon Edward, but Lise also. Janet had grown warm at the mention + of Ditmar's name. + </p> + <p> + “It was Miss Ottway who recommended me,” she said, glancing at her sister, + who during this conversation had sat in silence. Lise's expression, + normally suggestive of a discontent not unbecoming to her type, had grown + almost sullen. Hannah's brisk gathering up of the dishes was suddenly + arrested. + </p> + <p> + “Lise, why don't you say something to your sister? Ain't you glad she's + got the place?” + </p> + <p> + “Sure, I'm glad,” said Lise, and began to unscrew the top of the salt + shaker. “I don't see why I couldn't get a raise, too. I work just as hard + as she does.” + </p> + <p> + Edward, who had never got a “raise” in his life, was smitten with + compunction and sympathy. + </p> + <p> + “Give 'em time, Lise,” he said consolingly. “You ain't so old as Janet.” + </p> + <p> + “Time!” she cried, flaring up and suddenly losing her control. “I've got a + picture of Waiters giving me a raise I know the girls that get raises from + him.” + </p> + <p> + “You ought to be ashamed of yourself,” Hannah declared. “There—you've + spilled the salt!” + </p> + <p> + But Lise, suddenly bursting into tears, got up and left the room. Edward + picked up the Banner and pretended to read it, while Janet collected the + salt and put it back into the shaker. Hannah, gathering up the rest of the + dishes, disappeared into the kitchen, but presently returned, as though + she had forgotten something. + </p> + <p> + “Hadn't you better go after her?” she said to Janet. + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid it won't be any use. She's got sort of queer, lately—she + thinks they're down on her.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry I spoke so sharp. But then—” Hannah shook her head, and + her sentence remained unfinished. + </p> + <p> + Janet sought her sister, but returned after a brief interval, with the + news that Lise had gone out. + </p> + <p> + One of the delights of friendship, as is well known, is the exchange of + confidences of joy or sorrow, but there was, in Janet's promotion, + something intensely personal to increase her natural reserve. Her feelings + toward Ditmar were so mingled as to defy analysis, and several days went + by before she could bring herself to inform Eda Rawle of the new business + relationship in which she stood to the agent of the Chippering Mill. The + sky was still bright as they walked out Warren Street after supper, Eda + bewailing the trials of the day just ended: Mr. Frye, the cashier of the + bank, had had one of his cantankerous fits, had found fault with her + punctuation, nothing she had done had pleased him. But presently, when + they had come to what the Banner called the “residential district,” she + was cheered by the sight of the green lawns, the flowerbeds and shrubbery, + the mansions of those inhabitants of Hampton unfamiliar with + boardinghouses and tenements. Before one of these she paused, retaining + Janet by the arm, exclaiming wistfully: + </p> + <p> + “Wouldn't you like to live there? That belongs to your boss.” + </p> + <p> + Janet, who had been dreaming as she gazed at the facade of rough stucco + that once had sufficed to fill the ambitions of the late Mrs. Ditmar, + recognized it as soon as Eda spoke, and dragged her friend hastily, almost + roughly along the sidewalk until they had reached the end of the block. + Janet was red. + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter?” demanded Eda, as soon as she had recovered from her + surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,” said Janet. “Only—I'm in his office.” + </p> + <p> + “But what of it? You've got a right to look at his house, haven't you?” + </p> + <p> + “Why yes,—a right,” Janet assented. Knowing Eda's ambitions for her + were not those of a business career, she was in terror lest her friend + should scent a romance, and for this reason she had never spoken of the + symptoms Ditmar had betrayed. She attempted to convey to Eda the doubtful + taste of staring point-blank at the house of one's employer, especially + when he might be concealed behind a curtain. + </p> + <p> + “You see,” she added, “Miss Ottway's recommended me for her place—she's + going away.” + </p> + <p> + “Janet!” cried Eda. “Why didn't you tell me?” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Janet guiltily, “it's only a trial. I don't know whether + he'll keep me or not.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course he'll keep you,” said Eda, warmly. “If that isn't just like + you, not saying a word about it. Gee, if I'd had a raise like that I just + couldn't wait to tell you. But then, I'm not smart like you.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't be silly,” said Janet, out of humour with herself, and annoyed + because she could not then appreciate Eda's generosity. + </p> + <p> + “We've just got to celebrate!” declared Eda, who had the gift, which Janet + lacked, of taking her joys vicariously; and her romantic and somewhat + medieval proclivities would permit no such momentous occasion to pass + without an appropriate festal symbol. “We'll have a spree on Saturday—the + circus is coming then.” + </p> + <p> + “It'll be my spree,” insisted Janet, her heart warming. “I've got the + raise....” + </p> + <p> + On Saturday, accordingly, they met at Grady's for lunch, Eda attired in + her best blouse of pale blue, and when they emerged from the restaurant, + despite the torrid heat, she beheld Faber Street as in holiday garb as + they made their way to the cool recesses of Winterhalter's to complete the + feast. That glorified drug-store with the five bays included in its + manifold functions a department rivalling Delmonico's, with electric fans + and marble-topped tables and white-clad waiters who took one's order and + filled it at the soda fountain. It mattered little to Eda that the young + man awaiting their commands had pimples and long hair and grinned + affectionately as he greeted them. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, girls!” he said. “What strikes you to-day?” + </p> + <p> + “Me for a raspberry nut sundae,” announced Eda, and Janet, being unable to + imagine any more delectable confection, assented. The penetrating odour + peculiar to drugstores, dominated by menthol and some unnamable but + ancient remedy for catarrh, was powerless to interfere with their + enjoyment. + </p> + <p> + The circus began at two. Rather than cling to the straps of a crowded car + they chose to walk, following the familiar route of the trolley past the + car barns and the base-ball park to the bare field under the seared face + of Torrey's Hill, where circuses were wont to settle. A sirocco-like + breeze from the southwest whirled into eddies the clouds of germ-laden + dust stirred up by the automobiles, blowing their skirts against their + legs, and sometimes they were forced to turn, clinging to their hats, + confused and giggling, conscious of male glances. The crowd, increasing as + they proceeded, was in holiday mood; young men with a newly-washed aspect, + in Faber Street suits, chaffed boisterously groups of girls, who retorted + with shrill cries and shrieks of laughter; amorous couples strolled, arm + in arm, oblivious, as though the place were as empty as Eden; lady-killers + with exaggerated square shoulders, wearing bright neckties, their + predatory instincts alert, hovered about in eager search of adventure. + There were men-killers, too, usually to be found in pairs, in startling + costumes they had been persuaded were the latest Paris models,—imitations + of French cocottes in Hampton, proof of the smallness of our modern world. + Eda regarded them superciliously. + </p> + <p> + “They'd like you to think they'd never been near a loom or a bobbin!” she + exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + In addition to these more conspicuous elements, the crowd contained sober + operatives of the skilled sort possessed of sufficient means to bring + hither their families, including the baby; there were section-hands and + foremen, slashers, mule spinners, beamers, French-Canadians, Irish, + Scotch, Welsh and English, Germans, with only an occasional Italian, + Lithuanian, or Jew. Peanut and popcorn men, venders of tamales and + Chile-con-carne hoarsely shouted their wares, while from afar could be + heard the muffled booming of a band. Janet's heart beat faster. She + regarded with a tinge of awe the vast expanse of tent that rose before her + eyes, the wind sending ripples along the heavy canvas from circumference + to tent pole. She bought the tickets; they entered the circular enclosure + where the animals were kept; where the strong beams of the sun, in trying + to force their way through the canvas roof, created an unnatural, + jaundiced twilight, the weirdness of which was somehow enhanced by the + hoarse, amazingly penetrating growls of beasts. Suddenly a lion near them + raised a shaggy head, emitting a series of undulating, soul-shaking roars. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, what's eatin' you?” demanded a thick-necked youth, pretending not to + be awestricken by this demonstration. + </p> + <p> + “Suppose he'd get out!” cried Eda, drawing Janet away. + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn't let him hurt you, dearie,” the young man assured her. + </p> + <p> + “You!” she retorted contemptuously, but grinned in spite of herself, + showing her gums. + </p> + <p> + The vague feeling of terror inspired by this tent was a part of its + fascination, for it seemed pregnant with potential tragedies suggested by + the juxtaposition of helpless babies and wild beasts, the babies crying or + staring in blank amazement at padding tigers whose phosphorescent eyes + never left these morsels beyond the bars. The two girls wandered about, + their arms closely locked, but the strange atmosphere, the roars of the + beasts, the ineffable, pungent odour of the circus, of sawdust mingled + with the effluvia of animals, had aroused an excitement that was slow in + subsiding. Some time elapsed before they were capable of taking a normal + interest in the various exhibits. + </p> + <p> + “'Adjutant Bird,'” Janet read presently from a legend on one of the + compartments of a cage devoted to birds, and surveying the somewhat + dissolute occupant. “Why, he's just like one of those tall mashers who + stay at the Wilmot and stand on the sidewalk,—travelling men, you + know.” + </p> + <p> + “Say-isn't he?” Eda agreed. “Isn't he pleased with himself, and his feet + crossed!” + </p> + <p> + “And see this one, Eda—he's a 'Harpy Eagle.' There's somebody we + know looks just like that. Wait a minute—I'll tell you—it's + the woman who sits in the cashier's cage at Grady's.” + </p> + <p> + “If it sure isn't!” said Eda. + </p> + <p> + “She has the same fluffy, light hair—hairpins can't keep it down, + and she looks at you in that same sort of surprised way with her head on + one side when you hand in your check.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, it's true to the life!” cried Eda enthusiastically. “She thinks + she's got all the men cinched,—she does and she's forty if she's a + day.” + </p> + <p> + These comparisons brought them to a pitch of risible enjoyment amply + sustained by the spectacle in the monkey cage, to which presently they + turned. A chimpanzee, with a solicitation more than human, was solemnly + searching a friend for fleas in the midst of a pandemonium of chattering + and screeching and chasing, of rattling of bars and trapezes carried on by + their companions. + </p> + <p> + “Well, young ladies,” said a voice, “come to pay a call on your relations—have + ye?” + </p> + <p> + Eda giggled hysterically. An elderly man was standing beside them. He was + shabbily dressed, his own features were wizened, almost simian, and by his + friendly and fatuous smile Janet recognized one of the harmless obsessed + in which Hampton abounded. + </p> + <p> + “Relations!” Eda exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “You and me, yes, and her,” he answered, looking at Janet, though at first + he had apparently entertained some doubt as to this inclusion, “we're all + descended from them.” His gesture triumphantly indicated the denizens of + the cage. + </p> + <p> + “What are you giving us?” said Eda. + </p> + <p> + “Ain't you never read Darwin?” he demanded. “If you had, you'd know + they're our ancestors, you'd know we came from them instead of Adam and + Eve. That there's a fable.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll never believe I came from them,” cried Eda, vehement in her disgust. + </p> + <p> + But Janet laughed. “What's the difference? Some of us aren't any better + than monkeys, anyway.” + </p> + <p> + “That's so,” said the man approvingly. “That's so.” He wanted to continue + the conversation, but they left him rather ruthlessly. And when, from the + entrance to the performance tent, they glanced back over their shoulders, + he was still gazing at his cousins behind the bars, seemingly deriving an + acute pleasure from his consciousness of the connection.... + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI + </h2> + <p> + Modern business, by reason of the mingling of the sexes it involves, for + the playwright and the novelist and the sociologist is full of interesting + and dramatic situations, and in it may be studied, undoubtedly, one phase + of the evolution tending to transform if not disintegrate certain + institutions hitherto the corner-stones of society. Our stage is set. A + young woman, conscious of ability, owes her promotion primarily to certain + dynamic feminine qualities with which she is endowed. And though she may + make an elaborate pretense of ignoring the fact, in her heart she knows + and resents it, while at the same time, paradoxically, she gets a thrill + from it,—a sustaining and inspiring thrill of power! On its face it + is a business arrangement; secretly,—attempt to repudiate this as + one may,—it is tinged with the colours of high adventure. When Janet + entered into the intimate relationship with Mr. Claude Ditmar necessitated + by her new duties as his private stenographer her attitude, slightly + defiant, was the irreproachable one of a strict attention to duty. All + unconsciously she was a true daughter of the twentieth century, and + probably a feminist at heart, which is to say that her conduct was + determined by no preconceived or handed-down notions of what was proper + and lady-like. For feminism, in a sense, is a return to atavism, and sex + antagonism and sex attraction are functions of the same thing. There were + moments when she believed herself to hate Mr. Ditmar, when she treated him + with an aloofness, an impersonality unsurpassed; moments when he paused in + his dictation to stare at her in astonishment. He, who flattered himself + that he understood women! + </p> + <p> + She would show him!—such was her dominating determination. Her + promotion assumed the guise of a challenge, of a gauntlet flung down at + the feet of her sex. In a certain way, an insult, though incredibly + stimulating. If he flattered himself that he had done her a favour, if he + entertained the notion that he could presently take advantage of the + contact with her now achieved to make unbusinesslike advances—well, + he would find out. He had proclaimed his desire for an able assistant in + Miss Ottway's place—he would get one, and nothing more. She watched + narrowly, a l'affut, as the French say, for any signs of sentiment, and + indeed this awareness of her being on guard may have had some influence on + Mr. Ditmar's own attitude, likewise irreproachable.... A rather anaemic + young woman, a Miss Annie James, was hired for Janet's old place. + </p> + <p> + In spite of this aloofness and alertness, for the first time in her life + Janet felt the exuberance of being in touch with affairs of import. + Hitherto the mill had been merely a greedy monster claiming her freedom + and draining her energies in tasks routine, such as the copying of + meaningless documents and rows of figures; now, supplied with stimulus and + a motive, the Corporation began to take on significance, and she flung + herself into the work with an ardour hitherto unknown, determined to make + herself so valuable to Ditmar that the time would come when he could not + do without her. She strove to memorize certain names and addresses, lest + time be lost in looking them up, to familiarize herself with the ordinary + run of his correspondence, to recall what letters were to be marked + “personal,” to anticipate matters of routine, in order that he might not + have the tedium of repeating instructions; she acquired the faculty of + keeping his engagements in her head; she came early to the office, + remaining after hours, going through the files, becoming familiar with his + system; and she learned to sort out his correspondence, sifting the + important from the unimportant, to protect him, more and more, from + numerous visitors who called only to waste his time. Her instinct for the + detection of book-agents, no matter how brisk and businesslike they might + appear, was unerring—she remembered faces and the names belonging to + them: an individual once observed to be persona non grata never succeeded + in passing her twice. On one occasion Ditmar came out of his office to see + the back of one of these visitors disappearing into the corridor. + </p> + <p> + “Who was that?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “His name is McCalla,” she said. “I thought you didn't want to be + bothered.” + </p> + <p> + “But how in thunder did you get rid of him?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I just wouldn't let him in,” she replied demurely. + </p> + <p> + And Ditmar went away, wondering.... Thus she studied him, without + permitting him to suspect it, learning his idiosyncrasies, his attitude + toward all those with whom daily he came in contact, only to find herself + approving. She was forced to admit that he was a judge of men, compelled + to admire his adroitness in dealing with them. He could be democratic or + autocratic as occasion demanded; he knew when to yield, and when to remain + inflexible. One morning, for instance, there arrived from New York a + dapper salesman whose jauntily tied bow, whose thin hair—carefully + parted to conceal an incipient baldness—whose wary and slightly + weary eyes all impressively suggested the metropolitan atmosphere of high + pressure and sophistication from which he had emerged. He had a machine to + sell; an amazing machine, endowed with human intelligence and more than + human infallibility; for when it made a mistake it stopped. It was + designed for the express purpose of eliminating from the payroll the + skilled and sharp-eyed women who are known as “drawers-in,” who sit all + day long under a north light patiently threading the ends of the warp + through the heddles of the loom harness. Janet's imagination was gradually + fired as she listened to the visitor's eloquence; and the textile + industry, which hitherto had seemed to her uninteresting and sordid, took + on the colours of romance. + </p> + <p> + “Now I've made up my mind we'll place one with you, Mr. Ditmar,” the + salesman concluded. “I don't object to telling you we'd rather have one in + the Chippering than in any mill in New England.” + </p> + <p> + Janet was surprised, almost shocked to see Ditmar shake his head, yet she + felt a certain reluctant admiration because he had not been swayed by + blandishments. At such moments, when he was bent on refusing a request, he + seemed physically to acquire massiveness,—and he had a dogged way of + chewing his cigar. + </p> + <p> + “I don't want it, yet,” he replied, “not until you improve it.” And she + was impressed by the fact that he seemed to know as much about the machine + as the salesman himself. In spite of protests, denials, appeals, he + remained firm. “When you get rid of the defects I've mentioned come back, + Mr. Hicks—but don't come back until then.” + </p> + <p> + And Mr. Hicks departed, discomfited.... + </p> + <p> + Ditmar knew what he wanted. Of the mill he was the absolute master, + familiar with every process, carrying constantly in his mind how many + spindles, how many looms were at work; and if anything untoward happened, + becoming aware of it by what seemed to Janet a subconscious process, + sending for the superintendent of the department: for Mr. Orcutt, perhaps, + whose office was across the hall—a tall, lean, spectacled man of + fifty who looked like a schoolmaster. + </p> + <p> + “Orcutt, what's the matter with the opener in Cooney's room?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, the blower's out of order.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, whose fault is it?”.... + </p> + <p> + He knew every watchman and foreman in the mill, and many of the second + hands. The old workers, men and women who had been in the Chippering + employ through good and bad times for years, had a place in his + affections, but toward the labour force in general his attitude was + impersonal. The mill had to be run, and people to be got to run it. With + him, first and last and always it was the mill, and little by little what + had been for Janet a heterogeneous mass of machinery and human beings + became unified and personified in Claude Ditmar. It was odd how the + essence and quality of that great building had changed for her; how the + very roaring of the looms, as she drew near the canal in the mornings, had + ceased to be sinister and depressing, but bore now a burden like a great + battle song to excite and inspire, to remind her that she had been + snatched as by a miracle from the commonplace. And all this was a function + of Ditmar. + </p> + <p> + Life had become portentous. And she was troubled by no qualms of logic, + but gloried, womanlike, in her lack of it. She did not ask herself why she + had deliberately enlarged upon Miss Ottway's duties, invaded debatable + ground in part inevitably personal, flung herself with such abandon into + the enterprise of his life's passion, at the same time maintaining a + deceptive attitude of detachment, half deceiving herself that it was zeal + for the work by which she was actuated. In her soul she knew better. She + was really pouring fuel on the flames. She read him, up to a certain point—as + far as was necessary; and beneath his attempts at self-control she was + conscious of a dynamic desire that betrayed itself in many acts and signs,—as + when he brushed against her; and occasionally when he gave evidence with + his subordinates of a certain shortness of temper unusual with him she + experienced a vaguely alarming but delicious thrill of power. And this, of + all men, was the great Mr. Ditmar! Was she in love with him? That question + did not trouble her either. She continued to experience in his presence + waves of antagonism and attraction, revealing to her depths and + possibilities of her nature that frightened while they fascinated. It + never occurred to her to desist. That craving in her for high adventure + was not to be denied. + </p> + <p> + On summer evenings it had been Ditmar's habit when in Hampton to stroll + about his lawn, from time to time changing the position of the sprinkler, + smoking a cigar, and reflecting pleasantly upon his existence. His house, + as he gazed at it against the whitening sky, was an eminently satisfactory + abode, his wife was dead, his children gave him no trouble; he felt a glow + of paternal pride in his son as the boy raced up and down the sidewalk on + a bicycle; George was manly, large and strong for his age, and had a + domineering way with other boys that gave Ditmar secret pleasure. Of Amy, + who was showing a tendency to stoutness, and who had inherited her + mother's liking for candy and romances, Ditmar thought scarcely at all: he + would glance at her as she lounged, reading, in a chair on the porch, but + she did not come within his range of problems. He had, in short, + everything to make a reasonable man content, a life nicely compounded of + sustenance, pleasure, and business,—business naturally being the + greatest of these. He was—though he did not know it—ethically + and philosophically right in squaring his morals with his occupation, and + his had been the good fortune to live in a world whose codes and + conventions had been carefully adjusted to the pursuit of that particular + brand of happiness he had made his own. Why, then, in the name of that + happiness, of the peace and sanity and pleasurable effort it had brought + him, had he allowed and even encouraged the advent of a new element that + threatened to destroy the equilibrium achieved? an element refusing to be + classified under the head of property, since it involved something he + desired and could not buy? A woman who was not property, who resisted the + attempt to be turned into property, was an anomaly in Ditmar's universe. + He had not, of course, existed for more than forty years without having + heard and read of and even encountered in an acquaintance or two the + species of sex attraction sentimentally called love that sometimes made + fools of men and played havoc with more important affairs, but in his + experience it had never interfered with his sanity or his appetite or the + Chippering Mill: it had never made his cigars taste bitter; it had never + caused a deterioration in the appreciation of what he had achieved and + held. But now he was experiencing strange symptoms of an intensity out of + all proportion to that of former relations with the other sex. What was + most unusual for him, he was alarmed and depressed, at moments irritable. + He regretted the capricious and apparently accidental impulse that had + made him pretend to tinker with his automobile that day by the canal, that + had led him to the incomparable idiocy of getting rid of Miss Ottway and + installing the disturber of his peace as his private stenographer. + </p> + <p> + What the devil was it in her that made him so uncomfortable? When in his + office he had difficulty in keeping his mind on matters of import; he + would watch her furtively as she went about the room with the lithe and + noiseless movements that excited him the more because he suspected beneath + her outward and restrained demeanour a fierceness he craved yet feared. He + thought of her continually as a panther, a panther he had caught and could + not tame; he hadn't even caught her, since she might escape at any time. + He took precautions not to alarm her. When she brushed against him he + trembled. Continually she baffled and puzzled him, and he never could tell + of what she was thinking. She represented a whole set of new and + undetermined values for which he had no precedents, and unlike every woman + he had known—including his wife—she had an integrity of her + own, seemingly beyond the reach of all influences economic and social. All + the more exasperating, therefore, was a propinquity creating an intimacy + without substance, or without the substance he craved for she had + magically become for him a sort of enveloping, protecting atmosphere. In + an astonishingly brief time he had fallen into the habit of talking things + over with her; naturally not affairs of the first importance, but matters + such as the economy of his time: when, for instance, it was most + convenient for him to go to Boston; and he would find that she had + telephoned, without being told, to the office there when to expect him, to + his chauffeur to be on hand. He never had to tell her a thing twice, nor + did she interrupt—as Miss Ottway sometimes had done—the + processes of his thought. Without realizing it he fell into the habit of + listening for the inflections of her voice, and though he had never lacked + the power of making decisions, she somehow made these easier for him + especially if, a human equation were involved. + </p> + <p> + He had, at least, the consolation—if it were one—of reflecting + that his reputation was safe, that there would be no scandal, since two + are necessary to make the kind of scandal he had always feared, and Miss + Bumpus, apparently, had no intention of being the second party. Yet she + was not virtuous, as he had hitherto defined the word. Of this he was + sure. No woman who moved about as she did, who had such an effect on him, + who had on occasions, though inadvertently, returned the lightning of his + glances, whose rare laughter resembled grace notes, and in whose hair was + that almost imperceptible kink, could be virtuous. This instinctive + conviction inflamed him. For the first time in his life he began to doubt + the universal conquering quality of his own charms,—and when such a + thing happens to a man like Ditmar he is in danger of hell-fire. He + indulged less and less in the convivial meetings and excursions that + hitherto had given him relaxation and enjoyment, and if his cronies + inquired as to the reasons for his neglect of them he failed to answer + with his usual geniality. + </p> + <p> + “Everything going all right up at the mills, Colonel?” he was asked one + day by Mr. Madden, the treasurer of a large shoe company, when they met on + the marble tiles of the hall in their Boston club. + </p> + <p> + “All right. Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” replied Madden, conciliatingly, “you seem kind of preoccupied, + that's all. I didn't know but what the fifty-four hour bill the + legislature's just put through might be worrying you.” + </p> + <p> + “We'll handle that situation when the time comes,” said Ditmar. He + accepted a gin rickey, but declined rather curtly the suggestion of a + little spree over Sunday to a resort on the Cape which formerly he would + have found enticing. On another occasion he encountered in the lobby of + the Parker House a more intimate friend, Chester Sprole, sallow, + self-made, somewhat corpulent, one of those lawyers hail fellows well met + in business circles and looked upon askance by the Brahmins of their + profession; more than half politician, he had been in Congress, and from + time to time was retained by large business interests because of his + persuasive gifts with committees of the legislature—though these had + been powerless to avert the recent calamity of the women and children's + fifty-four hour bill. Mr. Sprole's hair was prematurely white, and the + crow's-feet at the corners of his eyes were not the result of legal + worries. + </p> + <p> + “Hullo, Dit,” he said jovially. + </p> + <p> + “Hullo, Ches,” said Ditmar. + </p> + <p> + “Now you're the very chap I wanted to see. Where have you been keeping + yourself lately? Come out to the farm to-night,—same of the boys'll + be there.” Mr. Sprole, like many a self-made man, was proud of his farm, + though he did not lead a wholly bucolic existence. + </p> + <p> + “I can't, Ches,” answered Ditmar. “I've got to go back to Hampton.” + </p> + <p> + This statement Mr. Sprole unwisely accepted as a fiction. He took hold of + Ditmar's arm. + </p> + <p> + “A lady—eh—what?” + </p> + <p> + “I've got to go back to Hampton,” repeated Ditmar, with a suggestion of + truculence that took his friend aback. Not for worlds would Mr. Sprole + have offended the agent of the Chippering Mill. + </p> + <p> + “I was only joking, Claude,” he hastened to explain. Ditmar, somewhat + mollified but still dejected, sought the dining-room when the lawyer had + gone. + </p> + <p> + “All alone to-night, Colonel?” asked the coloured head waiter, + obsequiously. + </p> + <p> + Ditmar demanded a table in the corner, and consumed a solitary meal. + </p> + <p> + Very naturally Janet was aware of the change in Ditmar, and knew the cause + of it. Her feelings were complicated. He, the most important man in + Hampton, the self-sufficient, the powerful, the hitherto distant and + unattainable head of the vast organization known as the Chippering Mill, + of which she was an insignificant unit, at times became for her just a man—a + man for whom she had achieved a delicious contempt. And the knowledge that + she, if she chose, could sway and dominate him by the mere exercise of + that strange feminine force within her was intoxicating and terrifying. + She read this in a thousand signs; in his glances; in his movements + revealing a desire to touch her; in little things he said, apparently + insignificant, yet fraught with meaning; in a constant recurrence of the + apologetic attitude—so alien to the Ditmar formerly conceived—of + which he had given evidence that day by the canal: and from this attitude + emanated, paradoxically, a virile and galvanic current profoundly + disturbing. Sometimes when he bent over her she experienced a commingled + ecstasy and fear that he would seize her in his arms. Yet the tension was + not constant, rising and falling with his moods and struggles, all of + which she read—unguessed by him—as easily as a printed page by + the gift that dispenses with laborious processes of the intellect. On the + other hand, a resentment boiled within her his masculine mind failed to + fathom. Stevenson said of John Knox that many women had come to learn from + him, but he had never condescended to become a learner in return—a + remark more or less applicable to Ditmar. She was, perforce, thrilled that + he was virile and wanted her, but because he wanted her clandestinely her + pride revolted, divining his fear of scandal and hating him for it like a + thoroughbred. To do her justice, marriage never occurred to her. She was + not so commonplace. + </p> + <p> + There were times, however, when the tension between them would relax, when + some incident occurred to focus Ditmar's interest on the enterprise that + had absorbed and unified his life, the Chippering Mill. One day in + September, for instance, after an absence in New York, he returned to the + office late in the afternoon, and she was quick to sense his elation, to + recognize in him the restored presence of the quality of elan, of command, + of singleness of purpose that had characterized him before she had become + his stenographer. At first, as he read his mail, he seemed scarcely + conscious of her presence. She stood by the window, awaiting his pleasure, + watching the white mist as it rolled over the floor of the river, catching + glimpses in vivid, saffron blurs of the lights of the Arundel Mill on the + farther shore. Autumn was at hand. Suddenly she heard Ditmar speaking. + </p> + <p> + “Would you mind staying a little while longer this evening, Miss Bumpus?” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all,” she replied, turning. + </p> + <p> + On his face was a smile, almost boyish. + </p> + <p> + “The fact is, I think I've got hold of the biggest single order that ever + came into any mill in New England,” he declared. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'm glad,” she said quickly. + </p> + <p> + “The cotton cards—?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + She knew he referred to the schedules, based on the current prices of + cotton, made out in the agent's office and sent in duplicate to the + selling house, in Boston. She got them from the shelf; and as he went over + them she heard him repeating the names of various goods now become + familiar, pongees, poplins, percales and voiles, garbardines and galateas, + lawns, organdies, crepes, and Madras shirtings, while he wrote down + figures on a sheet of paper. So complete was his absorption in this task + that Janet, although she had resented the insinuating pressure of his + former attitude toward her, felt a paradoxical sensation of jealousy. + Presently, without looking up, he told her to call up the Boston office + and ask for Mr. Fraile, the cotton buyer; and she learned from the talk + over the telephone though it was mostly about “futures”—that Ditmar + had lingered for a conference in Boston on his way back from New York. + Afterwards, having dictated two telegrams which she wrote out on her + machine, he leaned back in his chair; and though the business for the day + was ended, showed a desire to detain her. His mood became communicative. + </p> + <p> + “I've been on the trail of that order for a month,” he declared. “Of + course it isn't my business to get orders, but to manage this mill, and + that's enough for one man, God knows. But I heard the Bradlaughs were in + the market for these goods, and I told the selling house to lie low, that + I'd go after it. I knew I could get away with it, if anybody could. I went + to the Bradlaughs and sat down on 'em, I lived with 'em, ate with 'em, + brought 'em home at night. I didn't let 'em alone a minute until they + handed it over. I wasn't going to give any other mill in New England or + any of those southern concerns a chance to walk off with it—not on + your life! Why, we have the facilities. There isn't another mill in the + country can turn it out in the time they ask, and even we will have to go + some to do it. But we'll do it, by George, unless I'm struck by + lightning.” + </p> + <p> + He leaned forward, hitting the desk with his fist, and Janet, standing + beside him, smiled. She had the tempting gift of silence. Forgetting her + twinge of jealousy, she was drawn toward him now, and in this mood of + boyish exuberance, of self-confidence and pride in his powers and success + she liked him better than ever before. She had, for the first time, the + curious feeling of being years older than he, yet this did not detract + from a new-born admiration. + </p> + <p> + “I made this mill, and I'm proud of it,” he went on. “When old Stephen + Chippering put me in charge he was losing money, he'd had three agents in + four years. The old man knew I had it in me, and I knew it, if I do say it + myself. All this union labour talk about shorter hours makes me sick—why, + there was a time when I worked ten and twelve hours a day, and I'm man + enough to do it yet, if I have to. When the last agent—that was Cort—was + sacked I went to Boston on my own hook and tackled the old gentleman—that's + the only way to get anywhere. I couldn't bear to see the mill going to + scrap, and I told him a thing or two,—I had the facts and the + figures. Stephen Chippering was a big man, but he had a streak of + obstinacy in him, he was conservative, you bet. I had to get it across to + him there was a lot of dead wood in this plant, I had to wake him up to + the fact that the twentieth century was here. He had to be shown—he + was from Boston, you know—” Ditmar laughed—“but he was all + wool and a yard wide, and he liked me and trusted me. + </p> + <p> + “That was in nineteen hundred. I can remember the interview as well as if + it had happened last night—we sat up until two o'clock in the + morning in that library of his with the marble busts and the leather-bound + books and the double windows looking out over the Charles, where the wind + was blowing a gale. And at last he said, 'All right, Claude, go ahead. + I'll put you in as agent, and stand behind you.' And by thunder, he did + stand behind me. He was quiet, the finest looking old man I ever saw in my + life, straight as a ramrod, with a little white goatee and a red, + weathered face full of creases, and a skin that looked as if it had been + pricked all over with needles—the old Boston sort. They don't seem + to turn 'em out any more. Why, I have a picture of him here.” + </p> + <p> + He opened a drawer in his desk and drew out a photograph. Janet gazed at + it sympathetically. + </p> + <p> + “It doesn't give you any notion of those eyes of his,” Ditmar said, + reminiscently. “They looked right through a man's skull, no matter how + thick it was. If anything went wrong, I never wasted any time in telling + him about it, and I guess it was one reason he liked me. Some of the + people up here didn't understand him, kow-towed to him, they were scared + of him, and if he thought they had something up their sleeves he looked as + if he were going to eat 'em alive. Regular fighting eyes, the kind that + get inside of a man and turn the light on. And he sat so still—made + you ashamed of yourself. Well, he was a born fighter, went from Harvard + into the Rebellion and was left for dead at Seven Oaks, where one of the + company found him and saved him. He set that may up for life, and never + talked about it, either. See what he wrote on the bottom—'To my + friend, Claude Ditmar, Stephen Chippering.' And believe me, when he once + called a man a friend he never took it back. I know one thing, I'll never + get another friend like him.” + </p> + <p> + With a gesture that gave her a new insight into Ditmar, reverently he took + the picture from her hand and placed it back in the drawer. She was + stirred, almost to tears, and moved away from him a little, as though to + lessen by distance the sudden attraction he had begun to exert: yet she + lingered, half leaning, half sitting on the corner of the big desk, her + head bent toward him, her eyes filled with light. She was wondering + whether he could ever love a woman as he loved this man of whom he had + spoken, whether he could be as true to a woman. His own attitude seemed + never to have been more impersonal, but she had ceased to resent it; + something within her whispered that she was the conductor, the inspirer.. + </p> + <p> + “I wish Stephen Chippering could have lived to see this order,” he + exclaimed, “to see the Chippering Mill to-day! I guess he'd be proud of + it, I guess he wouldn't regret having put me in as agent.” + </p> + <p> + Janet did not reply. She could not. She sat regarding him intently, and + when he raised his eyes and caught her luminous glance, his expression + changed, she knew Stephen Chippering had passed from his mind. + </p> + <p> + “I hope you like it here,” he said. His voice had become vibrant, + ingratiating, he had changed from the master to the suppliant—and + yet she was not displeased. Power had suddenly flowed back into her, and + with it an exhilarating self-command. + </p> + <p> + “I do like it,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + “But you said, when I asked you to be my stenographer, that you didn't + care for your work.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, this is different.” + </p> + <p> + “How?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm interested, the mill means something to me now you see, I'm not just + copying things I don't know anything about.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm glad you're interested,” he said, in the same odd, awkward tone. + “I've never had any one in the office who did my work as well. Now Miss + Ottway was a good stenographer, she was capable, and a fine woman, but she + never got the idea, the spirit of the mill in her as you've got it, and + she wasn't able to save me trouble, as you do. It's remarkable how you've + come to understand, and in such a short time.” + </p> + <p> + Janet coloured. She did not look at him, but had risen and begun to + straighten out the papers beside her. + </p> + <p> + “There are lots of other things I'd like to understand,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “What?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Well—about the mill. I never thought much about it before, I always + hated it,” she cried, dropping the papers and suddenly facing him. “It was + just drudgery. But now I want to learn everything, all I can, I'd like to + see the machinery.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll take you through myself—to-morrow,” he declared. + </p> + <p> + His evident agitation made her pause. They were alone, the outer office + deserted, and the Ditmar she saw now, whom she had summoned up with + ridiculous ease by virtue of that mysterious power within her, was no + longer the agent of the Chippering Mill, a boy filled with enthusiasm by a + business achievement, but a man, the incarnation and expression of + masculine desire desire for her. She knew she could compel him, if she + chose, to throw caution to the winds. + </p> + <p> + “Oh no!” she exclaimed. She was afraid of him, she shrank from such a + conspicuous sign of his favour. + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Because I don't want you to,” she said, and realized, as soon as she had + spoken, that her words might imply the existence of a something between + them never before hinted at by her. “I'll get Mr. Caldwell to take me + through.” She moved toward the door, and turned; though still on fire + within, her manner had become demure, repressed. “Did you wish anything + more this evening?” she inquired. + </p> + <p> + “That's all,” he said, and she saw that he was gripping the arms of his + chair.... + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII + </h2> + <p> + Autumn was at hand. All day it had rained, but now, as night fell and + Janet went homeward, the white mist from the river was creeping stealthily + over the city, disguising the familiar and sordid landmarks. These had + become beautiful, mysterious, somehow appealing. The electric arcs, + splotches in the veil, revealed on the Common phantom trees; and in the + distance, against the blurred lights from the Warren Street stores + skirting the park could be seen phantom vehicles, phantom people moving to + and fro. Thus, it seemed to Janet, invaded by a pearly mist was her own + soul, in which she walked in wonder,—a mist shot through and through + with soft, exhilarating lights half disclosing yet transforming and + etherealizing certain landmark's there on which, formerly, she had not + cared to gaze. She was thinking of Ditmar as she had left him gripping his + chair, as he had dismissed her for the day, curtly, almost savagely. She + had wounded and repelled him, and lingering in her was that exquisite + touch of fear—a fear now not so much inspired by Ditmar as by the + semi-acknowledged recognition of certain tendencies and capacities within + herself. Yet she rejoiced in them, she was glad she had hurt Ditmar, she + would hurt him again. Still palpitating, she reached the house in Fillmore + Street, halting a moment with her hand on the door, knowing her face was + flushed, anxious lest her mother or Lise might notice something unusual in + her manner. But, when she had slowly mounted the stairs and lighted the + gas in the bedroom the sight of her sister's clothes cast over the chairs + was proof that Lise had already donned her evening finery and departed. + The room was filled with the stale smell of clothes, which Janet detested. + She flung open the windows. She took off her hat and swiftly tidied + herself, yet the relief she felt at Lise's absence was modified by a + sudden, vehement protest against sordidness. Why should she not live by + herself amidst clean and tidy surroundings? She had begun to earn enough, + and somehow a vista had been opened up—a vista whose end she could + not see, alluring, enticing.... In the dining-room, by the cleared table, + her father was reading the Banner; her mother appeared in the kitchen + door. + </p> + <p> + “What in the world happened to you, Janet?” she exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,” said Janet. “Mr. Ditmar asked me to stay—that was all. + He'd been away.” + </p> + <p> + “I was worried, I was going to make your father go down to the mill. I've + saved you some supper.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't want much,” Janet told her, “I'm not hungry.” + </p> + <p> + “I guess you have to work too hard in that new place,” said Hannah, as she + brought in the filled plate from the oven. + </p> + <p> + “Well, it seems to agree with her, mother,” declared Edward, who could + always be counted on to say the wrong thing with the best of intentions. + “I never saw her looking as well—why, I swan, she's getting real + pretty!” + </p> + <p> + Hannah darted at him a glance, but restrained herself, and Janet reddened + as she tried to eat the beans placed before her. The pork had browned and + hardened at the edges, the gravy had spread, a crust covered the potatoes. + When her father resumed his reading of the Banner and her mother went back + into the kitchen she began to speculate rather resentfully and yet + excitedly why it was that this adventure with a man, with Ditmar, made her + look better, feel better,—more alive. She was too honest to disguise + from herself that it was an adventure, a high one, fraught with all sorts + of possibilities, dangers, and delights. Her promotion had been merely + incidental. Both her mother and father, did they know the true + circumstances,—that Mr. Ditmar desired her, was perhaps in love with + her—would be disturbed. Undoubtedly they would have believed that + she could “take care” of herself. She knew that matters could not go on as + they were, that she would either have to leave Mr. Ditmar or—and + here she baulked at being logical. She had no intention of leaving him: to + remain, according to the notions of her parents, would be wrong. Why was + it that doing wrong agreed with her, energized her, made her more alert, + cleverer, keying up her faculties? turned life from a dull affair into a + momentous one? To abandon Ditmar would be to slump back into the humdrum, + into something from which she had magically been emancipated, symbolized + by the home in which she sat; by the red-checked tablecloth, the ugly + metal lamp, the cherry chairs with the frayed seats, the horsehair sofa + from which the stuffing protruded, the tawdry pillow with its colours, + once gay, that Lise had bought at a bargain at the Bagatelle.... The + wooden clock with the round face and quaint landscape below—the + family's most cherished heirloom—though long familiar, was not so + bad; but the two yellowed engravings on the wall offended her. They had + been wedding presents to Edward's father. One represented a stupid German + peasant woman holding a baby, and standing in front of a thatched cottage; + its companion was a sylvan scene in which certain wooden rustics were + supposed to be enjoying themselves. Between the two, and dotted with + flyspecks, hung an insurance calendar on which was a huge head of a lady, + florid, fluffy-haired, flirtatious. Lise thought her beautiful. + </p> + <p> + The room was ugly. She had long known that, but tonight the realization + came to her that what she chiefly resented in it was the note it + proclaimed—the note of a mute acquiescence, without protest or + struggle, in what life might send. It reflected accurately the attitude of + her parents, particularly of her father. With an odd sense of detachment, + of critical remoteness and contempt she glanced at him as he sat stupidly + absorbed in his newspaper, his face puckered, his lips pursed, and Ditmar + rose before her—Ditmar, the embodiment of an indomitableness that + refused to be beaten and crushed. She thought of the story he had told + her, how by self-assertion and persistence he had become agent of the + Chippering Mill, how he had convinced Mr. Stephen Chippering of his + ability. She could not think of the mill as belonging to the Chipperings + and the other stockholders, but to Ditmar, who had shaped it into an + expression of himself, since it was his ideal. And now it seemed that he + had made it hers also. She regretted having repulsed him, pushed her plate + away from her, and rose. + </p> + <p> + “You haven't eaten anything,” said Hannah, who had come into the room. + “Where are you going?” + </p> + <p> + “Out—to Eda's,” Janet answered.... + </p> + <p> + “It's late,” Hannah objected. But Janet departed. Instead of going to + Eda's she walked alone, seeking the quieter streets that her thoughts + might flow undisturbed. At ten o'clock, when she returned, the light was + out in the diningroom, her sister had not come in, and she began slowly to + undress, pausing every now and then to sit on the bed and dream; once she + surprised herself gazing into the glass with a rapt expression that was + almost a smile. What was it about her that had attracted Ditmar? No other + man had ever noticed it. She had never thought herself good looking, and + now—it was astonishing!—she seemed to have changed, and she + saw with pride that her arms and neck were shapely, that her dark hair + fell down in a cascade over her white shoulders to her waist. She caressed + it; it was fine. When she looked again, a radiancy seemed to envelop her. + She braided her hair slowly, in two long plaits, looking shyly in the + mirror and always seeing that radiancy.... + </p> + <p> + Suddenly it occurred to her with a shock that she was doing exactly what + she had despised Lise for doing, and leaving the mirror she hurried her + toilet, put out the light, and got into bed. For a long time, however, she + remained wakeful, turning first on one side and then on the other, trying + to banish from her mind the episode that had excited her. But always it + came back again. She saw Ditmar before her, virile, vital, electric with + desire. At last she fell asleep. + </p> + <p> + Gradually she was awakened by something penetrating her consciousness, + something insistent, pervasive, unescapable, which in drowsiness she could + not define. The gas was burning, Lise had come in, and was moving + peculiarly about the room. Janet watched her. She stood in front of the + bureau, just as Janet herself had done, her hands at her throat. At last + she let them fall, her head turning slowly, as though drawn, by some + irresistible, hypnotic power, and their eyes met. Lise's were filmed, like + those of a dog whose head is being stroked, expressing a luxuriant + dreaminess uncomprehending, passionate. + </p> + <p> + “Say, did I wake you?” she asked. “I did my best not to make any noise—honest + to God.” + </p> + <p> + “It wasn't the noise that woke me up,” said Janet. + </p> + <p> + “It couldn't have been.” + </p> + <p> + “You've been drinking!” said Janet, slowly. + </p> + <p> + Lise giggled. + </p> + <p> + “What's it to you, angel face!” she inquired. “Quiet down, now, and go + bye-bye.” + </p> + <p> + Janet sprang from the bed, seized her by the shoulders, and shook her. She + was limp. She began to whimper. + </p> + <p> + “Cut it out—leave me go. It ain't nothing to you what I do—I + just had a highball.” + </p> + <p> + Janet released her and drew back. + </p> + <p> + “I just had a highball—honest to God!” + </p> + <p> + “Don't say that again!” whispered Janet, fiercely. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, very well. For God's sake, go to bed and leave me alone—I can + take care of myself, I guess—I ain't nutty enough to hit the booze. + But I ain't like you—I've got to have a little fun to keep alive.” + </p> + <p> + “A little fun!” Janet exclaimed. The phrase struck her sharply. A little + fun to keep alive! + </p> + <p> + With that same peculiar, cautious movement she had observed, Lise + approached a chair, and sank into it,—jerking her head in the + direction of the room where Hannah and Edward slept. + </p> + <p> + “D'you want to wake 'em up? Is that your game?” she asked, and began to + fumble at her belt. Overcoming with an effort a disgust amounting to + nausea, Janet approached her sister again, little by little undressing + her, and finally getting her into bed, when she immediately fell into a + profound slumber. Janet, too, got into bed, but sleep was impossible: the + odour lurked like a foul spirit in the darkness, mingling with the + stagnant, damp air that came in at the open window, fairly saturating her + with horror: it seemed the very essence of degradation. But as she lay on + the edge of the bed, shrinking from contamination, in the throes of + excitement inspired by an unnamed fear, she grew hot, she could feel and + almost hear the pounding of her heart. She rose, felt around in the clammy + darkness for her wrapper and slippers, gained the door, crept through the + dark hall to the dining-room, where she stealthily lit the lamp; darkness + had become a terror. A cockroach scurried across the linoleum. The room + was warm and close, it reeked with the smell of stale food, but at least + she found relief from that other odour. She sank down on the sofa. + </p> + <p> + Her sister was drunk. That in itself was terrible enough, yet it was not + the drunkenness alone that had sickened Janet, but the suggestion of + something else. Where had Lise been? In whose company had she become + drunk? Of late, in contrast to a former communicativeness, Lise had been + singularly secretive as to her companions, and the manner in which her + evenings were spent; and she, Janet, had grown too self-absorbed to be + curious. Lise, with her shopgirl's cynical knowledge of life and its + pitfalls and the high valuation at which she held her charms, had seemed + secure from danger; but Janet recalled her discouragement, her threat to + leave the Bagatelle. Since then there had been something furtive about + her. Now, because that odour of alcohol Lise exhaled had destroyed in + Janet the sense of exhilaration, of life on a higher plane she had begun + to feel, and filled her with degradation, she hated Lise, felt for her + sister no strain of pity. A proof, had she recognized it, that immorality + is not a matter of laws and decrees, but of individual emotions. A few + hours before she had seen nothing wrong in her relationship with Ditmar: + now she beheld him selfish, ruthless, pursuing her for one end, his own + gratification. As a man, he had become an enemy. Ditmar was like all other + men who exploited her sex without compunction, but the thought that she + was like Lise, asleep in a drunken stupor, that their cases differed only + in degree, was insupportable. + </p> + <p> + At last she fell asleep from sheer weariness, to dream she was with Ditmar + at some place in the country under spreading trees, Silliston, perhaps—Silliston + Common, cleverly disguised: nor was she quite sure, always, that the man + was Ditmar; he had a way of changing, of resembling the man she had met in + Silliston whom she had mistaken for a carpenter. He was pleading with her, + in his voice was the peculiar vibrancy that thrilled her, that summoned + some answering thing out of the depths of her, and she felt herself + yielding with a strange ecstasy in which were mingled joy and terror. The + terror was conquering the joy, and suddenly he stood transformed before + her eyes, caricatured, become a shrieking monster from whom she sought in + agony to escape.... In this paralysis of fear she awoke, staring with wide + eyes at the flickering flame of the lamp, to a world filled with + excruciating sound—the siren of the Chippering Mill! She lay + trembling with the horror of the dream-spell upon her, still more than + half convinced that the siren was Ditmar's voice, his true expression. He + was waiting to devour her. Would the sound never end?... + </p> + <p> + Then, remembering where she was, alarmed lest her mother might come in and + find her there, she left the sofa, turned out the sputtering lamp, and ran + into the bedroom. Rain was splashing on the bricks of the passage-way + outside, the shadows of the night still lurked in the corners; by the grey + light she gazed at Lise, who breathed loudly and stirred uneasily, her + mouth open, her lips parched. Janet touched her. + </p> + <p> + “Lise—get up!” she said. “It's time to get up.” She shook her. + </p> + <p> + “Leave me alone—can't you?” + </p> + <p> + “It's time to get up. The whistle has sounded.” + </p> + <p> + Lise heavily opened her eyes. They were bloodshot. + </p> + <p> + “I don't want to get up. I won't get up.” + </p> + <p> + “But you must,” insisted Janet, tightening her hold. “You've got to—you've + got to eat breakfast and go to work.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't want any breakfast, I ain't going to work any more.” + </p> + <p> + A gust of wind blew inward the cheap lace curtains, and the physical + effect of it emphasized the chill that struck Janet's heart. She got up + and closed the window, lit the gas, and returning to the bed, shook Lise + again. + </p> + <p> + “Listen,” she said, “if you don't get up I'll tell mother what happened + last night.” + </p> + <p> + “Say, you wouldn't—!” exclaimed Lise, angrily. + </p> + <p> + “Get up!” Janet commanded, and watched her rather anxiously, uncertain as + to the after effects of drunkenness. But Lise got up. She sat on the edge + of the bed and yawned, putting her hand to her forehead. + </p> + <p> + “I've sure got a head on me,” she remarked. + </p> + <p> + Janet was silent, angrier than ever, shocked that tragedy, degradation, + could be accepted thus circumstantially. Lise proceeded to put up her + hair. She seemed to be mistress of herself; only tired, gaping frequently. + Once she remarked:—“I don't see the good of getting nutty over a + highball.” + </p> + <p> + Seeing that Janet was not to be led into controversy, she grew morose. + </p> + <p> + Breakfast in Fillmore Street, never a lively meal, was more dismal than + usual that morning, eaten to the accompaniment of slopping water from the + roofs on the pavement of the passage. The indisposition of Lise passed + unobserved by both Hannah and Edward; and at twenty minutes to eight the + two girls, with rubbers and umbrellas, left the house together, though it + was Janet's custom to depart earlier, since she had farther to go. Lise, + suspicious, maintained an obstinate silence, keeping close to the curb. + They reached the corner by the provision shop with the pink and orange + chromos of jellies in the window. + </p> + <p> + “Lise, has anything happened to you?” demanded Janet suddenly. “I want you + to tell me.” + </p> + <p> + “Anything happened—what do you mean? Anything happened?” + </p> + <p> + “You know very well what I mean.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, suppose something has happened?” Lise's reply was pert, defiant. + “What's it to you? If anything's happened, it's happened to me—hasn't + it?” + </p> + <p> + Janet approached her. + </p> + <p> + “What are you trying to do?” said Lise. “Push me into the gutter?” + </p> + <p> + “I guess you're there already,” said Janet. + </p> + <p> + Lise was roused to a sudden pitch of fury. She turned on Janet and thrust + her back. + </p> + <p> + “Well, if I am who's going to blame me?” she cried. “If you had to work + all day in that hole, standing on your feet, picked on by yaps for six a + week, I guess you wouldn't talk virtuous, either. It's easy for you to + shoot off your mouth, you've got a soft snap with Ditmar.” + </p> + <p> + Janet was outraged. She could not restrain her anger. + </p> + <p> + “How dare you say that?” she demanded. + </p> + <p> + Lise was cowed. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you drove me to it—you make me mad enough to say anything. + Just because I went to Gruber's with Neva Lorrie and a couple of gentlemen—they + were gentlemen all right, as much gentlemen as Ditmar—you come at me + and tell me I'm all to the bad.” She began to sob. “I'm as straight as you + are. How was I to know the highball was stiff? Maybe I was tired—anyhow, + it put me on the queer, and everything in the joint began to tango 'round + me—and Neva came home with me.” + </p> + <p> + Janet felt a surge of relief, in which were mingled anxiety and + resentment: relief because she was convinced that Lise was telling the + truth, anxiety because she feared for Lise's future, resentment because + Ditmar had been mentioned. Still, what she had feared most had not come to + pass. Lise left her abruptly, darting down a street that led to a back + entrance of the Bagatelle, and Janet pursued her way. Where, she wondered, + would it all end? Lise had escaped so far, but drunkenness was an ominous + sign. And “gentlemen”? What kind of gentlemen had taken her sister to + Gruber's? Would Ditmar do that sort of thing if he had a chance? + </p> + <p> + The pavement in front of the company boarding-houses by the canal was + plastered with sodden leaves whipped from the maples by the driving rain + in the night. The sky above the mills was sepia. White lights were burning + in the loom rooms. When she reached the vestibule Simmons, the watchman, + informed her that Mr. Ditmar had already been there, and left for Boston. + </p> + <p> + Janet did not like to acknowledge to herself her disappointment on + learning that Ditmar had gone to Boston. She knew he had had no such + intention the night before; an accumulated mail and many matters demanding + decisions were awaiting him; and his sudden departure seemed an act + directed personally against her, in the nature of a retaliation, since she + had offended and repulsed him. Through Lise's degrading act she had + arrived at the conclusion that all adventure and consequent suffering had + to do with Man—a conviction peculiarly maddening to such + temperaments as Janet's. Therefore she interpreted her suffering in terms + of Ditmar, she had looked forward to tormenting him again, and by + departing he had deliberately balked and cheated her. The rain fell + ceaselessly out of black skies, night seemed ever ready to descend on the + river, a darkness—according to young Mr. Caldwell—due not to + the clouds alone, but to forest fires many hundreds of miles away, in + Canada. As the day wore on, however, her anger gradually gave place to an + extreme weariness and depression, and yet she dreaded going home, + inventing things for herself to do; arranging and rearranging Ditmar's + papers that he might have less trouble in sorting them, putting those + uppermost which she thought he would deem the most important. Perhaps he + would come in, late! In a world of impending chaos the brilliantly lighted + office was a tiny refuge to which she clung. At last she put on her coat + and rubbers, faring forth reluctantly into the wet. + </p> + <p> + At first when she entered the bedroom she thought it empty, though the gas + was burning, and them she saw Lise lying face downward on the bed. For a + moment she stood still, then closed the door softly. + </p> + <p> + “Lise,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + Janet sat down on the bed, putting out her hand. Unconsciously she began + to stroke Lise's hand, and presently it turned and tightened on her own. + </p> + <p> + “Lise,” she said, “I understand why you—” she could not bring + herself to pronounce the words “got drunk,”—“I understand why you + did it. I oughtn't to have talked to you that way. But it was terrible to + wake up and see you.” + </p> + <p> + For awhile Lise did not reply. Then she raised herself, feeling her hair + with an involuntary gesture, regarding her sister with a bewildered look, + her face puckered. Her eyes burned, and under them were black shadows. + </p> + <p> + “How do you mean—you understand?” she asked slowly. “You never hit + the booze.” + </p> + <p> + Even Lise's language, which ordinarily offended her, failed to change her + sudden impassioned and repentant mood. She was astonished at herself for + this sudden softening, since she did not really love Lise, and all day she + had hated her, wished never to see her again. + </p> + <p> + “No, but I can understand how it would be to want to,” Janet said. “Lise, + I guess we're searching—both of us for something we'll never find.” + </p> + <p> + Lise stared at her with a contracted, puzzled expression, as of a person + awaking from sleep, all of whose faculties are being strained toward + comprehension. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” she demanded. “You and me? You're all right—you've + got no kick coming.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“Life is hard, it's hard on girls like us—we want things we can't +have.” Janet was at a loss to express herself. + + “Well, it ain't any pipe dream,” Lise agreed. Her glance turned +involuntarily toward the picture of the Olympian dinner party pinned on +the wall. “Swells have a good time,” she added. +</pre> + <p> + “Maybe they pay for it, too,” said Janet. + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn't holler about paying—it's paying and not getting the + goods,” declared Lise. + </p> + <p> + “You'll pay, and you won't get it. That kind of life is—hell,” Janet + cried. + </p> + <p> + Self-centered as Lise was, absorbed in her own trouble and present + physical discomfort, this unaccustomed word from her sister and the + vehemence with which it was spoken surprised and frightened her, brought + home to her some hint of the terror in Janet's soul. + </p> + <p> + “Me for the water wagon,” she said. + </p> + <p> + Janet was not convinced. She had hoped to discover the identity of the man + who had taken Lise to Gruber's, but she did not attempt to continue the + conversation. She rose and took off her hat. + </p> + <p> + “Why don't you go to bed?” she asked. “I'll tell mother you have a + headache and bring in your supper.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I don't care if I do,” replied Lise, gratefully. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps the most disconcerting characteristic of that complex affair, the + human organism, is the lack of continuity of its moods. The soul, so + called, is as sensitive to physical conditions as a barometer: affected by + lack of sleep, by smells and sounds, by food, by the weather—whether + a day be sapphire or obsidian. And the resolutions arising from one mood + are thwarted by the actions of the next. Janet had observed this + phenomenon, and sometimes, when it troubled her, she thought herself the + most inconsistent and vacillating of creatures. She had resolved, far + instance, before she fell asleep, to leave the Chippering Mill, to banish + Ditmar from her life, to get a position in Boston, whence she could send + some of her wages home: and in the morning, as she made her way to the + office, the determination gave her a sense of peace and unity. But the + northwest wind was blowing. It had chased away the mist and the clouds, + the smoke from Canada. The sun shone with a high brilliancy, the elms of + the Common cast sharp, black shadow-patterns on the pavements, and when + she reached the office and looked out of his window she saw the blue river + covered with quicksilver waves chasing one another across the current. + Ditmar had not yet returned to Hampton. About ten o'clock, as she was + copying out some figures for Mr. Price, young Mr. Caldwell approached her. + He had a Boston newspaper in his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Have you seen this article about Mr. Ditmar?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “About Mr. Ditmar? No.” + </p> + <p> + “It's quite a send-off for the Colonel,” said Caldwell, who was wont at + times to use the title facetiously. “Listen; 'One of the most notable + figures in the Textile industry of the United States, Claude Ditmar, Agent + of the Chippering Mill.'” Caldwell spread out the page and pointed to a + picture. “There he is, as large as life.” + </p> + <p> + A little larger than life, Janet thought. Ditmar was one of those men who, + as the expression goes, “take” well, a valuable asset in semi-public + careers; and as he stood in the sunlight on the steps of the building + where they had “snap-shotted” him he appeared even more massive, forceful, + and preponderant than she had known him. Beholding him thus set forth and + praised in a public print, he seemed suddenly to have been distantly + removed from her, to have reacquired at a bound the dizzy importance he + had possessed for her before she became his stenographer. She found it + impossible to realize that this was the Ditmar who had pursued and desired + her; at times supplicating, apologetic, abject; and again revealed by the + light in his eyes and the trembling of his hand as the sinister and + ruthless predatory male from whom—since the revelation in her sister + Lise she had determined to flee, and whom she had persuaded herself she + despised. He was a bigger man than she had thought, and as she read + rapidly down the column the fascination that crept over her was mingled + with disquieting doubt of her own powers: it was now difficult to believe + she had dominated or could ever dominate this self-sufficient, successful + person, the list of whose achievements and qualities was so alluringly set + forth by an interviewer who himself had fallen a victim. + </p> + <p> + The article carried the implication that the modern, practical, American + business man was the highest type as yet evolved by civilization: and + Ditmar, referred to as “a wizard of the textile industry,” was + emphatically one who had earned the gratitude of the grand old + Commonwealth. By the efforts of such sons she continued to maintain her + commanding position among her sister states. Prominent among the qualities + contributing to his success was open-mindedness, “a willingness to be + shown,” to scrap machinery when his competitors still clung to older + methods. The Chippering Mill had never had a serious strike,—indication + of an ability to deal with labour; and Mr. Ditmar's views on labour + followed: if his people had a grievance, let them come to him, and settle + it between them. No unions. He had consistently refused to recognize them. + There was mention of the Bradlaugh order as being the largest commission + ever given to a single mill, a reference to the excitement and speculation + it had aroused in trade circles. Claude Ditmar's ability to put it through + was unquestioned; one had only to look at him,—tenacity, + forcefulness, executiveness were written all over him.... In addition, the + article contained much material of an autobiographical nature that must—Janet + thought—have been supplied by Ditmar himself, whose modesty had + evidently shrunk from the cruder self-eulogy of an interview. But she + recognized several characteristic phrases. + </p> + <p> + Caldwell, watching her as she read, was suddenly fascinated. During a trip + abroad, while still an undergraduate, he had once seen the face of an + actress, a really good Parisian actress, light up in that way; and it had + revealed to him, in a flash, the meaning of enthusiasm. Now Janet became + vivid for him. There must be something unusual in a person whose feelings + could be so intense, whose emotions rang so true. He was not + unsophisticated. He had sometimes wondered why Ditmar had promoted her, + though acknowledging her ability. He admired Ditmar, but had no illusions + about him. Harvard, and birth in a social stratum where emphasis is + superfluous, enabled him to smile at the reporter's exuberance; and he was + the more drawn toward her to see on Janet's flushed face the hint of a + smile as she looked up at him when she had finished. + </p> + <p> + “The Colonel hypnotized that reporter,” he said, as he took the paper; and + her laugh, despite its little tremor, betrayed in her an unsuspected, + humorous sense of proportion. “Well, I'll take off my hat to him,” + Caldwell went on. “He is a wonder, he's got the mill right up to capacity + in a week. He's agreed to deliver those goods to the Bradlaughs by the + first of April, you know, and Holster, of the Clarendon, swears it can't + be done, he says Ditmar's crazy. Well, I stand to lose twenty-five dollars + on him.” + </p> + <p> + This loyalty pleased Janet, it had the strange effect of reviving loyalty + in her. She liked this evidence of Dick Caldwell's confidence. He was a + self-contained and industrious young man, with crisp curly hair, cordial + and friendly yet never intimate with the other employer; liked by them—but + it was tacitly understood his footing differed from theirs. He was a + cousin of the Chipperings, and destined for rapid promotion. He went away + every Saturday, it was known that he spent Sundays and holidays in + delightful places, to return reddened and tanned; and though he never + spoke about these excursions, and put on no airs of superiority, there was + that in his manner and even in the cut of his well-worn suits proclaiming + him as belonging to a sphere not theirs, to a category of fortunate beings + whose stumbles are not fatal, who are sustained from above. Even Ditmar + was not of these. + </p> + <p> + “I've just been showing a lot of highbrows through the mill,” he told + Janet. “They asked questions enough to swamp a professor of economics.” + </p> + <p> + And Janet was suddenly impelled to ask:—“Will you take me through + sometime, Mr. Caldwell?” + </p> + <p> + “You've never been through?” he exclaimed. “Why, we'll go now, if you can + spare the time.” + </p> + <p> + Her face had become scarlet. + </p> + <p> + “Don't tell Mr. Ditmar,” she begged. “You see—he wanted to take me + himself.” + </p> + <p> + “Not a word,” Caldwell promised as they left the office together and went + downstairs to the strong iron doors that led to the Cotton Department. The + showing through of occasional visitors had grown rather tiresome; but now + his curiosity and interest were aroused, he was conscious of a keen + stimulation when he glanced at Janet's face. Its illumination perplexed + him. The effect was that of a picture obscurely hung and hitherto scarcely + noticed on which the light had suddenly been turned. It glowed with a + strange and disturbing radiance.... + </p> + <p> + As for Janet, she was as one brought suddenly to the realization of a + miracle in whose presence she had lived for many years and never before + suspected; the miracle of machinery, of the triumph of man over nature. In + the brief space of an hour she beheld the dirty bales flung off the + freight cars on the sidings transformed into delicate fabrics wound from + the looms; cotton that only last summer, perhaps, while she sat + typewriting at her window, had been growing in the fields of the South. + She had seen it torn by the bale-breakers, blown into the openers, + loosened, cleansed, and dried; taken up by the lappers, pressed into + batting, and passed on to the carding machines, to emerge like a wisp of + white smoke in a sliver and coil automatically in a can. Once more it was + flattened into a lap, given to a comber that felt out its fibres, removing + with superhuman precision those for the finer fabric too short, thrusting + it forth again in another filmy sliver ready for the drawing frames. Six + of these gossamer ropes were taken up, and again six. Then came the + Blubbers and the roving frames, twisting and winding, the while + maintaining the most delicate of tensions lest the rope break, running the + strands together into a thread constantly growing stronger and finer, + until it was ready for spinning. + </p> + <p> + Caldwell stood close to her, shouting his explanations in her ear, while + she strained to follow them. But she was bewildered and entranced by the + marvellous swiftness, accuracy and ease with which each of the complex + machines, fed by human hands, performed its function. These human hands + were swift, too, as when they thrust the bobbins of roving on the + ring-spinning frames to be twisted into yarn. She saw a woman, in the + space of an instant, mend a broken thread. Women and boys were here, + doffer boys to lift off the full bobbins of yarn with one hand and set on + the empty bobbins with the other: while skilled workmen, alert for the + first sign of trouble, followed up and down in its travels the long frame + of the mule-spinner. After the spinning, the heavy spools of yarn were + carried to a beam-warper, standing alone like a huge spider's web, where + hundreds of threads were stretched symmetrically and wound evenly, side by + side, on a large cylinder, forming the warp of the fabric to be woven on + the loom. First, however, this warp must be stiffened or “slashed” in + starch and tallow, dried over heated drums, and finally wound around one + great beam from which the multitude of threads are taken up, one by one, + and slipped through the eyes of the loom harnesses by women who sit all + day under the north windows overlooking the canal—the “drawers-in” + of whom Ditmar had spoken. Then the harnesses are put on the loom, the + threads attached to the cylinder on which the cloth is to be wound. The + looms absorbed and fascinated Janet above all else. It seemed as if she + would never tire of watching the rhythmic rise and fall of the harnesses,—each + rapid movement making a V in the warp, within the angle of which the tiny + shuttles darted to and fro, to and fro, carrying the thread that filled + the cloth with a swiftness so great the eye could scarcely follow it; to + be caught on the other side when the angle closed, and flung back, and + back again! And in the elaborate patterns not one, but several harnesses + were used, each awaiting its turn for the impulse bidding it rise and + fall!... Abruptly, as she gazed, one of the machines halted, a weaver + hurried up, searched the warp for the broken thread, tied it, and started + the loom again. + </p> + <p> + “That's intelligent of it,” said Caldwell, in her ear. But she could only + nod in reply. + </p> + <p> + The noise in the weaving rooms was deafening, the heat oppressive. She + began to wonder how these men and women, boys and girls bore the strain + all day long. She had never thought much about them before save to compare + vaguely their drudgery with that from which now she had been emancipated; + but she began to feel a new respect, a new concern, a new curiosity and + interest as she watched them passing from place to place with indifference + between the whirling belts, up and down the narrow aisles, flanked on + either side by that bewildering, clattering machinery whose polished + surfaces continually caught and flung back the light of the electric bulbs + on the ceiling. How was it possible to live for hours at a time in this + bedlam without losing presence of mind and thrusting hand or body in the + wrong place, or becoming deaf? She had never before realized what mill + work meant, though she had read of the accidents. But these people—even + the children—seemed oblivious to the din and the danger, intent on + their tasks, unconscious of the presence of a visitor, save occasionally + when she caught a swift glance from a woman or girl a glance, perhaps, of + envy or even of hostility. The dark, foreign faces glowed, and instantly + grew dull again, and then she was aware of lurking terrors, despite her + exaltation, her sense now of belonging to another world, a world somehow + associated with Ditmar. Was it not he who had lifted her farther above all + this? Was it not by grace of her association with him she was there, a + spectator of the toil beneath? Yet the terror persisted. She, presently, + would step out of the noise, the oppressive moist heat of the drawing and + spinning rooms, the constant, remorseless menace of whirling wheels and + cogs and belts. But they?... She drew closer to Caldwell's side. + </p> + <p> + “I never knew—” she said. “It must be hard to work here.” + </p> + <p> + He smiled at her, reassuringly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, they don't mind it,” he replied. “It's like a health resort compared + to the conditions most of them live in at home. Why, there's plenty of + ventilation here, and you've got to have a certain amount of heat and + moisture, because when cotton is cold and dry it can't be drawn or spin, + and when it's hot and dry the electricity is troublesome. If you think + this moisture is bad you ought to see a mill with the old vapour-pot + system with the steam shooting out into the room. Look here!” He led Janet + to the apparatus in which the pure air is forced through wet cloths, + removing the dust, explaining how the ventilation and humidity were + regulated automatically, how the temperature of the room was controlled by + a thermostat. + </p> + <p> + “There isn't an agent in the country who's more concerned about the + welfare of his operatives than Mr. Ditmar. He's made a study of it, he's + spent thousands of dollars, and as soon as these machines became practical + he put 'em in. The other day when I was going through the room one of + these shuttles flew off, as they sometimes do when the looms are running + at high speed. A woman was pretty badly hurt. Ditmar came right down.” + </p> + <p> + “He really cares about them,” said Janet. She liked Caldwell's praise of + Ditmar, yet she spoke a little doubtfully. + </p> + <p> + “Of course he cares. But it's common sense to make 'em as comfortable and + happy as possible—isn't it? He won't stand for being held up, and + he'd be stiff enough if it came to a strike. I don't blame him for that. + Do you?” + </p> + <p> + Janet was wondering how ruthless Ditmar could be if his will were + crossed.... They had left the room with its noise and heat behind them and + were descending the worn, oaken treads of the spiral stairway of a + neighbouring tower. Janet shivered a little, and her face seemed almost + feverish as she turned to Caldwell and thanked him. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it was a pleasure, Miss Bumpus,” he declared. “And sometime, when you + want to see the Print Works or the Worsted Department, let me know—I'm + your man. And—I won't mention it.” + </p> + <p> + She did not answer. As they made their way back to the office he glanced + at her covertly, astonished at the emotional effect in her their tour had + produced. Though not of an inflammable temperament, he himself was + stirred, and it was she who, unaccountably, had stirred him: suggested, in + these processes he saw every day, and in which he was indeed interested, + something deeper, more significant and human than he had guessed, and + which he was unable to define.... + </p> + <p> + Janet herself did not know why this intimate view of the mills, of the + people who worked in them had so greatly moved her. All day she thought of + them. And the distant throb of the machinery she felt when her typewriter + was silent meant something to her now—she could not say what. When + she found herself listening for it, her heart beat faster. She had lived + and worked beside it, and it had not existed for her, it had had no + meaning, the mills might have been empty. She had, indeed, many, many + times seen these men and women, boys and girls trooping away from work, + she had strolled through the quarters in which they lived, speculated on + the lands from which they had come; but she had never really thought of + them as human beings, individuals, with problems and joys and sorrows and + hopes and fears like her own. Some such discovery was borne in upon her. + And always an essential function of this revelation, looming larger than + ever in her consciousness, was Ditmar. It was for Ditmar they toiled, in + Ditmar's hands were their very existences, his was the stupendous + responsibility and power. + </p> + <p> + As the afternoon wore, desire to see these toilers once more took + possession of her. From the white cupola perched above the huge mass of + the Clarendon Mill across the water sounded the single stroke of a bell, + and suddenly the air was pulsing with sounds flung back and forth by the + walls lining the river. Seizing her hat and coat, she ran down the stairs + and through the vestibule and along the track by the canal to the great + gates, which her father was in the act of unbarring. She took a stand + beside him, by the gatehouse. Edward showed a mild surprise. + </p> + <p> + “There ain't anything troubling you—is there, Janet?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “I wanted to see the hands come out,” she said. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes, as at present, he found Janet's whims unaccountable. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I should have presumed you'd know what they look like by this time. + You'd better stay right close to me, they're a rough lot, with no respect + or consideration for decent folks—these foreigners. I never could + see why the government lets 'em all come over here.” He put on the word + “foreigners” an emphasis of contempt and indignation, pathetic because of + its peculiar note of futility. Janet paid no attention to him. Her ears + were strained to catch the rumble of feet descending the tower stairs, her + eyes to see the vanguard as it came from the doorway—the first + tricklings of a flood that instantly filled the yard and swept onward and + outward, irresistibly, through the narrow gorge of the gates. Impossible + to realize this as the force which, when distributed over the great spaces + of the mills, performed an orderly and useful task! for it was now a + turbid and lawless torrent unconscious of its swollen powers, menacing, + breathlessly exciting to behold. It seemed to Janet indeed a torrent as + she clung to the side of the gatehouse as one might cling to the steep + bank of a mountain brook after a cloud-burst. And suddenly she had plunged + into it. The desire was absurd, perhaps, but not to be denied,—the + desire to mix with it, feel it, be submerged and swept away by it, losing + all sense of identity. She heard her father call after her, faintly—the + thought crossed her mind that his appeals were always faint,—and + then she was being carried along the canal, eastward, the pressure + relaxing somewhat when the draining of the side streets began. + </p> + <p> + She remembered, oddly, the Stanley Street bridge where the many streams + met and mingled, streams from the Arundel, the Patuxent, the Arlington and + the Clarendon; and, eager to prolong and intensify her sensations, hurried + thither, reaching it at last and thrusting her way outward until she had + gained the middle, where she stood grasping the rail. The great structure + was a-tremble from the assault, its footpaths and its roadway overrun with + workers, dodging between trolleys and trucks,—some darting nimbly, + dinner pails in hand, along the steel girders. Doffer boys romped and + whistled, young girls in jaunty, Faber Street clothes and flowered hats, + linked to one another for protection, chewed gum and joked, but for the + most part these workers were silent, the apathy of their faces making a + strange contrast with the hurry, hurry of their feet and set intentness of + their bodies as they sped homeward to the tenements. And the clothes of + these were drab, save when the occasional colour of a hooded peasant's + shawl, like the slightly faded tints of an old master, lit up a group of + women. Here, going home to their children, were Italian mothers bred + through centuries to endurance and patience; sallow Jewesses, gaunt, + bearded Jews with shadowy, half-closed eyes and wrinkled brows, + broad-faced Lithuanians, flat-headed Russians; swarthy Italian men and + pale, blond Germans mingled with muddy Syrians and nondescript Canadians. + And suddenly the bridge was empty, the army vanished as swiftly as it + came! + </p> + <p> + Janet turned. Through the haze of smoke she saw the sun drop like a ball + of fire cooled to redness, whose course is spent. The delicate lines of + the upper bridge were drawn in sepia against crimson-gilt; for an instant + the cupola of the Clarendon became jasper, and far, far above floated in + the azure a cloud of pink jeweller's cotton. Even as she strove to fix + these colours in her mind they vanished, the western sky faded to magenta, + to purple-mauve; the corridor of the river darkened, on either side pale + lights sparkled from the windows of the mills, while down the deepened + blue of the waters came floating iridescent suds from the washing of the + wools. It was given to her to know that which an artist of living memory + has called the incommunicable thrill of things.... + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII + </h2> + <p> + The after-effects of this experience of Janet's were not what ordinarily + are called “spiritual,” though we may some day arrive at a saner meaning + of the term, include within it the impulses and needs of the entire + organism. It left her with a renewed sense of energy and restlessness, + brought her nearer to high discoveries of mysterious joys which a voice + out of the past called upon her to forego, a voice somehow identified with + her father! It was faint, ineffectual. In obeying it, would she not lose + all life had to give? When she came in to supper her father was concerned + about her because, instead of walking home with him she had left him + without explanation to plunge into the crowd of workers. Her evident state + of excitement had worried him, her caprice was beyond his comprehension. + And how could she explain the motives that led to it? She was sure he had + never felt like that; and as she evaded his questions the something within + her demanding life and expression grew stronger and more rebellious, more + contemptuous of the fear-precepts congenial to a nature timorous and less + vitalized. + </p> + <p> + After supper, unable to sit still, she went out, and, filled with the + spirit of adventure, hurried toward Faber Street, which was already + thronging with people. It was bright here and gay, the shops glittered, + and she wandered from window to window until she found herself staring at + a suit of blue cloth hung on a form, beneath which was a card that read, + “Marked down to $20.” And suddenly the suggestion flashed into her mind, + why shouldn't she buy it? She had the money, she needed a new suit for the + winter, the one she possessed was getting shabby...but behind the excuse + of necessity was the real reason triumphantly proclaiming itself—she + would look pretty in it, she would be transformed, she would be buying a + new character to which she would have to live up. The old Janet would be + cast off with the old raiment; the new suit would announce to herself and + to the world a Janet in whom were released all those longings hitherto + disguised and suppressed, and now become insupportable! This was what the + purchase meant, a change of existence as complete as that between the moth + and the butterfly; and the realization of this fact, of the audacity she + was resolved to commit made her hot as she gazed at the suit. It was + modest enough, yet it had a certain distinction of cut, it looked + expensive: twenty dollars was not cheap, to be sure, but as the placard + announced, it had the air of being much more costly—even more costly + than thirty dollars, which seemed fabulous. Though she strove to remain + outwardly calm, her heart beat rapidly as she entered the store and asked + for the costume, and was somewhat reassured by the comportment of the + saleswoman, who did not appear to think the request preposterous, to + regard her as a spendthrift and a profligate. She took down the suit from + the form and led Janet to a cabinet in the back of the shop, where it was + tried on. + </p> + <p> + “It's worth every bit of thirty dollars,” she heard the woman say, “but + we've had it here for some time, and it's no use for our trade. You can't + sell anything like that in Hampton, there's no taste here, it's too good, + it ain't showy enough. My, it fits you like it was made for you, and it's + just your style—and you can see it wants a lady to wear it. Your old + suit is too tight—I guess you've filled out some since you bought + it.” + </p> + <p> + She turned Janet around and around, patting the skirt here and there, and + then stood off a little way, with clasped hands, her expression almost + rapturous. Janet's breath came fast as she gazed into the mirror and + buttoned up the coat. Was the woman's admiration cleverly feigned? this + image she beheld an illusion? or did she really look different, + distinguished? and if not beautiful—alluring? She had had a + momentary apprehension, almost sickening, that she would be too + conspicuous, but the saleswoman had anticipated that objection with the + magical word “lady.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll take it,” she announced. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you couldn't have done better if you'd gone to Boston,” declared + the woman. “It's one chance in a thousand. Will you wear it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Janet faintly.... “Just put my old suit in a box, and I'll + call for it in an hour.” + </p> + <p> + The woman's sympathetic smile followed her as she left the shop. She had + an instant of hesitation, of an almost panicky desire to go back and + repair her folly, ere it was too late. Why had she taken her money with + her that evening, if not with some deliberate though undefined purpose? + But she was ashamed to face the saleswoman again, and her elation was not + to be repressed—an elation optically presented by a huge electric + sign on the farther side of the street that flashed through all the + colours of the spectrum, surrounded by running fire like the running fire + in her soul. Deliciously self-conscious, her gaze fixed ahead, she pressed + through the Wednesday night crowds, young mill men and women in their best + clothes, housewives and fathers of families with children and bundles. In + front of the Banner office a group blocked the pavement staring up at the + news bulletin, which she paused to read. “Five Millionaire Directors + Indicted in New York,” “State Treasurer Accused of Graft,” “Murdock + Fortune Contested by Heirs.” The phrases seemed meaningless, and she + hurried on again.... She was being noticed! A man looked at her, twice, + the first glance accidental, the second arresting, appealing, subtly + flattering, agitating—she was sure he had turned and was following + her. She hastened her steps. It was wicked, what she was doing, but she + gloried in it; and even the sight, in burning red letters, of Gruber's + Cafe failed to bring on a revulsion by its association with her sister + Lise. The fact that Lise had got drunk there meant nothing to her now. She + gazed curiously at the illuminated, orange-coloured panes separated by + curving leads, at the design of a harp in green, at the sign “Ladies' + Entrance”; listened eagerly to the sounds of voices and laughter that came + from within. She looked cautiously over her shoulder, a shadow appeared, + she heard a voice, low, insinuating.... + </p> + <p> + Four blocks farther down she stopped. The man was no longer following her. + She had been almost self-convinced of an intention to go to Eda's—not + quite. Of late her conscience had reproached her about Eda, Janet had + neglected her. She told herself she was afraid of Eda's uncanny and + somewhat nauseating flair for romance; and to show Eda the new suit, + though she would relish her friend's praise, would be the equivalent of + announcing an affair of the heart which she, Janet, would have indignantly + to deny. She was not going to Eda's. She knew now where she was going. A + prepared but hitherto undisclosed decree of fate had bade her put money in + her bag that evening, directed her to the shop to buy the dress, and would + presently impel her to go to West Street—nay, was even now so + impelling her. Ahead of her were the lights of the Chippering Mill, in her + ears was the rhythmic sound of the looms working of nights on the + Bradlaugh order. She reached the canal. The white arc above the end of the + bridge cast sharp, black shadows of the branches of the trees on the + granite, the thousand windows of the mill shone yellow, reflected in the + black water. Twice she started to go, twice she paused, held by the + presage of a coming event, a presage that robbed her of complete surprise + when she heard footsteps on the bridge, saw the figure of a man halting at + the crown of the arch to look back at the building he had left, his + shoulders squared, his hand firmly clasping the rail. Her heart was + throbbing with the looms, and yet she stood motionless, until he turned + and came rapidly down the slope of the arch and stopped in front of her. + Under the arc lamp it was almost as bright as day. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Bumpus!” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Ditmar” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Were you—were you coming to the office?” + </p> + <p> + “I was just out walking,” she told him. “I thought you were in Boston.” + </p> + <p> + “I came home,” he informed her, somewhat superfluously, his eyes never + leaving her, wandering hungrily from her face to her new suit, and back + again to her face. “I got here on the seven o'clock train, I wanted to see + about those new Blubbers.” + </p> + <p> + “They finished setting them up this afternoon,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “How did you know?” + </p> + <p> + “I asked Mr. Orcutt about it—I thought you might telephone.” + </p> + <p> + “You're a wonder,” was his comment. “Well, we've got a running start on + that order,” and he threw a glance over his shoulder at the mill. + “Everything going full speed ahead. When we put it through I guess I'll + have to give you some of the credit.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I haven't done anything,” she protested. + </p> + <p> + “More than you think. You've taken so much off my shoulders I couldn't get + along without you.” His voice vibrated, reminding her of the voices of + those who made sentimental recitations for the graphophone. It sounded + absurd, yet it did not repel her: something within her responded to it. + “Which way were you going?” he inquired. + </p> + <p> + “Home,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Where do you live?” + </p> + <p> + “In Fillmore Street.” And she added with a touch of defiance: “It's a + little street, three blocks above Hawthorne, off East Street.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes,” he said vaguely, as though he had not understood. “I'll come + with you as far as the bridge—along the canal. I've got so much to + say to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Can't you say it to-morrow?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I can't; there are so many people in the office—so many + interruptions, I mean. And then, you never give me a chance.” + </p> + <p> + She stood hesitating, a struggle going on within her. He had proposed the + route along the canal because nobody would be likely to recognize them, + and her pride resented this. On the other hand, there was the sweet + allurement of the adventure she craved, which indeed she had come out to + seek and by a strange fatality found—since he had appeared on the + bridge almost as soon as she reached it. The sense of fate was strong upon + her. Curiosity urged her, and, thanks to the eulogy she had read of him + that day, to the added impression of his power conveyed by the trip + through the mills, Ditmar loomed larger than ever in her consciousness. + </p> + <p> + “What do you want to say?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, lots of things.” + </p> + <p> + She felt his hand slipping under her arm, his fingers pressing gently but + firmly into her flesh, and the experience of being impelled by a power + stronger than herself, a masculine power, was delicious. Her arm seemed to + burn where he touched her. + </p> + <p> + “Have I done something to offend you?” she heard him say. “Or is it + because you don't like me?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not sure whether I like you or not,” she told him. “I don't like + seeing you—this way. And why should you want to know me and see me + outside of the office? I'm only your stenographer.” + </p> + <p> + “Because you're you—because you're different from any woman I ever + met. You don't understand what you are—you don't see yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “I made up my mind last night I wouldn't stay in your office any longer,” + she informed him. + </p> + <p> + “For God's sake, why?” he exclaimed. “I've been afraid of that. Don't go—I + don't know what I'd do. I'll be careful—I won't get you talked + about.” + </p> + <p> + “Talked about!” She tore herself away from him. “Why should you get me + talked about?” she cried. + </p> + <p> + He was frightened. “No, no,” he stammered, “I didn't mean—” + </p> + <p> + “What did you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Well—as you say, you're my stenographer, but that's no reason why + we shouldn't be friends. I only meant—I wouldn't do anything to make + our friendship the subject of gossip.” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly she began to find a certain amusement in his confusion and + penitence, she achieved a pleasurable sense of advantage, of power over + him. + </p> + <p> + “Why should you want me? I don't know anything, I've never had any + advantages—and you have so much. I read an article in the newspaper + about you today—Mr. Caldwell gave it to me—” + </p> + <p> + “Did you like it?” he interrupted, naively. + </p> + <p> + “Well, in some places it was rather funny.” + </p> + <p> + “Funny? How?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don't know.” She had been quick to grasp in it the journalistic + lack of restraint hinted at by Caldwell. “I liked it, but I thought it + praised you too much, it didn't criticize you enough.” + </p> + <p> + He laughed. In spite of his discomfort, he found her candour refreshing. + From the women to whom he had hitherto made love he had never got anything + but flattery. + </p> + <p> + “I want you to criticize me,” he said. + </p> + <p> + But she went on relentlessly:—“When I read in that article how + successful you were, and how you'd got everything you'd started out to + get, and how some day you might be treasurer and president of the + Chippering Mill, well—” Despairing of giving adequate expression to + her meaning, she added, “I didn't see how we could be friends.” + </p> + <p> + “You wanted me for a friend?” he interrupted eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “I couldn't help knowing you wanted me—you've shown it so plainly. + But I didn't see how it could be. You asked me where I lived—in a + little flat that's no better than a tenement. I suppose you would call it + a tenement. It's dark and ugly, it only has four rooms, and it smells of + cooking. You couldn't come there—don't you see how impossible it is? + And you wouldn't care to be talked about yourself, either,” she added + vehemently. + </p> + <p> + This defiant sincerity took him aback. He groped for words. + </p> + <p> + “Listen!” he urged. “I don't want to do anything you wouldn't like, and + honestly I don't know what I'd do if you left me. I've come to depend on + you. And you may not believe it, but when I got that Bradlaugh order I + thought of you, I said to myself 'She'll be pleased, she'll help me to put + it over.'” + </p> + <p> + She thrilled at this, she even suffered him, for some reason unknown to + herself, to take her arm again. + </p> + <p> + “How could I help you?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, in a thousand ways—you ought to know, you do a good deal of + thinking for me, and you can help me by just being there. I can't explain + it, but I feel somehow that things will go right. I've come to depend on + you.” + </p> + <p> + He was a little surprised to find himself saying these things he had not + intended to say, and the lighter touch he had always possessed in dealing + with the other sex, making him the envied of his friends, had apparently + abandoned him. He was appalled at the possibility of losing her. + </p> + <p> + “I've never met a woman like you,” he went on, as she remained silent. + “You're different—I don't know what it is about you, but you are.” + His voice was low, caressing, his head was bent down to her, his shoulder + pressed against her shoulder. “I've never had a woman friend before, I've + never wanted one until now.” + </p> + <p> + She wondered about his wife. + </p> + <p> + “You've got brains—I've never met a woman with brains.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, is that why?” she exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “You're beautiful,” he whispered. “It's queer, but I didn't know it at + first. You're more beautiful to-night than I've ever seen you.” + </p> + <p> + They had come almost to Warren Street. Suddenly realizing that they were + standing in the light, that people were passing to and fro over the end of + the bridge, she drew away from him once more, this time more gently. + </p> + <p> + “Let's walk back a little way,” he proposed. + </p> + <p> + “I must go home—it's late.” + </p> + <p> + “It's only nine o'clock.” + </p> + <p> + “I have an errand to do, and they'll expect me. Good night.” + </p> + <p> + “Just one more turn!” he pleaded. + </p> + <p> + But she shook her head, backing away from him. + </p> + <p> + “You'll see me to-morrow,” she told him. She didn't know why she said + that. She hurried along Warren Street without once looking over her + shoulder; her feet seemed scarcely to touch the ground, the sound of music + was in her ears, the lights sparkled. She had had an adventure, at last, + an adventure that magically had transformed her life! She was beautiful! + No one had ever told her that before. And he had said that he needed her. + She smiled as, with an access of tenderness, in spite of his experience + and power she suddenly felt years older than Ditmar. She could help + him!... + </p> + <p> + She was breathless when she reached the shop in Faber Street. + </p> + <p> + “I hope I haven't kept you waiting,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Oh no, we don't close until ten,” answered the saleswoman. She was seated + quietly sewing under the lamp. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder whether you'd mind if I put on my old suit again, and carried + this?” Janet asked. + </p> + <p> + The expression of sympathy and understanding in the woman's eyes, as she + rose, brought the blood swiftly to Janet's face. She felt that her secret + had been guessed. The change effected, Janet went homeward swiftly, to + encounter, on the corner of Faber Street, her sister Lise, whose attention + was immediately attracted by the bundle. + </p> + <p> + “What have you got there, angel face?” she demanded. + </p> + <p> + “A new suit,” said Janet. + </p> + <p> + “You don't tell me—where'd you get it? at the Paris?” + </p> + <p> + “No, at Dowling's.” + </p> + <p> + “Say, I'll bet it was that plain blue thing marked down to twenty!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what if it was?” + </p> + <p> + Lise, when surprised or scornful, had a peculiarly irritating way of + whistling through her teeth. + </p> + <p> + “Twenty bucks! Gee, you'll be getting your clothes in Boston next. Well, + as sure as I live when I went by that window the other day when they first + knocked it down I said to Sadie, 'those are the rags Janet would buy if + she had the ready.' Have you got another raise out of Ditmar?” + </p> + <p> + “If I have, it isn't any business of yours,” Janet retorted. “I've got a + right to do as I please with my own money.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh sure,” said Lise, and added darkly: “I guess Ditmar likes to see you + look well.” + </p> + <p> + After this Janet refused obstinately to speak to Lise, to answer, when + they reached home, her pleadings and complaints to their mother that Janet + had bought a new suit and refused to exhibit it. And finally, when they + had got to bed, Janet lay long awake in passionate revolt against this new + expression of the sordidness and lack of privacy in which she was forced + to live, made the more intolerable by the close, sultry darkness of the + room and the snoring of Lise. + </p> + <p> + In the morning, however, after a groping period of semiconsciousness + during the ringing of the bells, the siren startled her into awareness and + alertness. It had not wholly lost its note of terror, but the note had + somehow become exhilarating, an invitation to adventure and to life; and + Lise's sarcastic comments as to the probable reasons why she did not put + on the new suit had host their power of exasperation. Janet compromised, + wearing a blouse of china silk hitherto reserved for “best.” The day was + bright, and she went rapidly toward the mill, glorying in the sunshine and + the autumn sharpness of the air; and her thoughts were not so much of + Ditmar as of something beyond him, of which he was the medium. She was + going, not to meet him, but to meet that. When she reached the office she + felt weak, her fingers trembled as she took off her hat and jacket and + began to sort out the mail. And she had to calm herself with the assurance + that her relationship with Ditmar had undergone no change. She had merely + met him by the canal, and he had talked to her. That was all. He had, of + course, taken her arm: it tingled when she remembered it. But when he + suddenly entered the room her heart gave a bound. He closed the door, he + took off his hat, and stood gazing at her—while she continued + arranging letters. Presently she was forced to glance at him. His bearing, + his look, his confident smile all proclaimed that he, at least, believed + things to be changed. He glowed with health and vigour, with an + aggressiveness from which she shrank, yet found delicious. + </p> + <p> + “How are you this morning?” he said at last—this morning as + distinguished from all other mornings. + </p> + <p> + “I'm well, as usual,” she answered. She herself was sometimes surprised by + her ability to remain outwardly calm. + </p> + <p> + “Why did you run away from me last night?” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't run away, I had to go home,” she said, still arranging the + letters. + </p> + <p> + “We could have had a little walk. I don't believe you had to go home at + all. You just wanted an excuse to get away from me.” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't need an excuse,” she told him. He moved toward her, but she took + a paper from the desk and carried it to a file across the room. + </p> + <p> + “I thought we were going to be friends,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Being friends doesn't mean being foolish,” she retorted. “And Mr. + Orcutt's waiting to see you.” + </p> + <p> + “Let him wait.” + </p> + <p> + He sat down at his desk, but his blood was warm, and he read the + typewritten words of the topmost letter of the pile without so much as + grasping the meaning of them. From time to time he glanced up at Janet as + she flitted about the room. By George, she was more desirable than he had + ever dared to imagine! He felt temporarily balked, but hopeful. On his way + to the mill he had dwelt with Epicurean indulgence on this sight of her, + and he had not been disappointed. He had also thought that he might + venture upon more than the mere feasting of his eyes, yet found an + inspiring alleviation in the fact that she by no means absolutely repulsed + him. Her attitude toward him had undergone a subtle transformation. There + could be no doubt of that. She was almost coquettish. His eyes lingered. + The china silk blouse was slightly open at the neck, suggesting the + fullness of her throat; it clung to the outline of her shoulders. Overcome + by an impulse he could not control, he got up and went toward her, but she + avoided him. + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell Mr. Orcutt you've come,” she said, rather breathlessly, as she + reached the door and opened it. Ditmar halted in his steps at the sight of + the tall, spectacled figure of the superintendent on the threshold. + </p> + <p> + Orcutt hesitated, looking from one to the other. + </p> + <p> + “I've been waiting for you,” he said, after a moment, “the rest of that + lot didn't come in this morning. I've telephoned to the freight agent.” + </p> + <p> + Ditmar stared at him uncomprehendingly. Orcutt repeated the information. + </p> + <p> + “Oh well, keep after him, get him to trace them.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm doing that,” replied the conscientious Orcutt. + </p> + <p> + “How's everything else going?” Ditmar demanded, with unlooked-for + geniality. “You mustn't take things too hard, Orcutt, don't wear yourself + out.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Orcutt was relieved. He had expected an outburst of the exasperation + that lately had characterized his superior. They began to chat. Janet had + escaped. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Bumpus told me you wanted to see me. I was just going to ring you + up,” Ditmar informed him. + </p> + <p> + “She's a clever young woman, seems to take such an interest in things,” + Orcutt observed. “And she's always on the job. Only yesterday I saw her + going through the mill with young Caldwell.” + </p> + <p> + Ditmar dropped the paper-weight he held. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, she went through, did she?” + </p> + <p> + After Orcutt departed he sat for awhile whistling a tune, from a popular + musical play, keeping time by drumming with his fingers on the desk. + </p> + <p> + That Mr. Semple, the mill treasurer, came down from Boston that morning to + confer with Ditmar was for Janet in the nature of a reprieve. She sat by + her window, and as her fingers flew over the typewriter keys she was swept + by surges of heat in which ecstasy and shame and terror were strangely + commingled. A voice within her said, “This can't go on, this can't go on! + It's too terrible! Everyone in the office will notice it—there will + be a scandal. I ought to go away while there is yet time—to-day.” + Though the instinct of flight was strong within her, she was filled with + rebellion at the thought of leaving when Adventure was flooding her drab + world with light, even as the mill across the waters was transfigured by + the heavy golden wash of the autumn sun. She had made at length the + discovery that Adventure had to do with Man, was inconceivable without + him. + </p> + <p> + Racked by these conflicting impulses of self-preservation on the one hand + and what seemed self-realization on the other, she started when, toward + the middle of the afternoon, she heard Ditmar's voice summoning her to + take his letters; and went palpitating, leaving the door open behind her, + seating herself on the far side of the desk, her head bent over her book. + Her neck, where her hair grew in wisps behind her ear, seemed to burn: + Ditmar's glance was focussed there. Her hands were cold as she wrote.... + Then, like a deliverer, she saw young Caldwell coming in from the outer + office, holding a card in his hand which he gave to Ditmar, who sat + staring at it. + </p> + <p> + “Siddons?” he said. “Who's Siddons?” + </p> + <p> + Janet, who had risen, spoke up. + </p> + <p> + “Why, he's been making the Hampton 'survey.' You wrote him you'd see him—don't + you remember, Mr. Ditmar?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't go!” exclaimed Ditmar. “You can't tell what those confounded + reformers will accuse you of if you don't have a witness.” + </p> + <p> + Janet sat down again. The sharpness of Ditmar's tone was an exhilarating + reminder of the fact that, in dealing with strangers, he had come more or + less to rely on her instinctive judgment; while the implied appeal of his + manner on such occasions emphasized the pleasurable sense of his + dependence, of her own usefulness. Besides, she had been curious about the + 'survey' at the time it was first mentioned, she wished to hear Ditmar's + views concerning it. Mr. Siddons proved to be a small and sallow young man + with a pointed nose and bright, bulbous brown eyes like a chipmunk's. + Indeed, he reminded one of a chipmunk. As he whisked himself in and seized + Ditmar's hand he gave a confused impression of polite self-effacement as + well as of dignity and self-assertion; he had the air of one who expects + opposition, and though by no means desiring it, is prepared to deal with + it. Janet smiled. She had a sudden impulse to drop the heavy book that lay + on the corner of the desk to see if he would jump. + </p> + <p> + “How do you do, Mr. Ditmar?” he said. “I've been hoping to have this + pleasure.” + </p> + <p> + “My secretary, Miss Bumpus,” said Ditmar. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Siddons quivered and bowed. Ditmar, sinking ponderously into his + chair, seemed suddenly, ironically amused, grinning at Janet as he opened + a drawer of his desk and offered the visitor a cigar. + </p> + <p> + “Thanks, I don't smoke,” said Mr. Siddons. + </p> + <p> + Ditmar lit one for himself. + </p> + <p> + “Now, what can I do for you?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Well, as I wrote you in my letter, I was engaged to make as thorough an + examination as possible of the living conditions and housing of the + operatives in the city of Hampton. I'm sure you'd be interested in hearing + something of the situation we found.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose you've been through our mills,” said Ditmar. + </p> + <p> + “No, the fact is—” + </p> + <p> + “You ought to go through. I think it might interest you,” Ditmar put a + slight emphasis on the pronoun. “We rather pride ourselves on making + things comfortable and healthy for our people.” + </p> + <p> + “I've no doubt of it—in fact, I've been so informed. It's because of + your concern for the welfare of your workers in the mills that I ventured + to come and talk to you of how most of them live when they're at home,” + replied Siddons, as Janet thought, rather neatly. “Perhaps, though living + in Hampton, you don't quite realize what the conditions are. I know a man + who has lived in Boston ten years and who hasn't ever seen the Bunker Hill + monument.” + </p> + <p> + “The Bunker Hill monument's a public affair,” retorted Ditmar, “anybody + can go there who has enough curiosity and interest. But I don't see how + you can expect me to follow these people home and make them clean up their + garbage and wash their babies. I shouldn't want anybody to interfere with + my private affairs.” + </p> + <p> + “But when you get to a point where private affairs become a public + menace?” Siddons objected. “Mr. Ditmar, I've seen block after block of + tenements ready to crumble. There are no provisions for foundations, + thickness of walls, size of timbers and columns, and if these houses had + been deliberately erected to make a bonfire they couldn't have answered + the purpose better. If it were not for the danger to life and the pity of + making thousands of families homeless, a conflagration would be a + blessing, although I believe the entire north or south side of the city + would go under certain conditions. The best thing you could do would be to + burn whole rows of these tenements, they are ideal breeding grounds for + disease. In the older sections of the city you've got hundreds of rear + houses here, houses moved back on the lots, in some extreme cases with + only four-foot courts littered with refuse,—houses without light, + without ventilation, and many of the rooms where these people are cooking + and eating and sleeping are so damp and foul they're not fit to put dogs + in. You've got some blocks with a density of over five hundred to the + acre, and your average density is considerably over a hundred.” + </p> + <p> + “Are things any worse than in any other manufacturing city?” asked Ditmar. + </p> + <p> + “That isn't the point,” said Siddons. “The point is that they're bad, + they're dangerous, they're inhuman. If you could go into these tenements + as I have done and see the way some of these people live, it would make + you sick the Poles and Lithuanians and Italians especially. You wouldn't + treat cattle that way. In some households of five rooms, including the + kitchen, I found as many as fourteen, fifteen, and once seventeen people + living. You've got an alarming infant death-rate.” + </p> + <p> + “Isn't it because these people want to live that way?” Ditmar inquired. + “They actually like it, they wouldn't be happy in anything but a pig-sty—they + had 'em in Europe. And what do you expect us to do? Buy land and build + flats for them? Inside of a month they'd have all the woodwork stripped + off for kindling, the drainage stopped up, the bathtubs filled with ashes. + I know, because it's been tried.” + </p> + <p> + Tilted back in his chair, he blew a cloud of smoke toward the ceiling, and + his eyes sought Janet's. She avoided them, resenting a little the + assumption of approval she read in them. Her mind, sensitive to new ideas, + had been keenly stimulated as she listened to Siddons, who began patiently + to dwell once more on the ill effect of the conditions he had discovered + on the welfare of the entire community. She had never thought of this. She + was surprised that Ditmar should seem to belittle it. Siddons was a new + type in her experience. She could understand and to a certain extent + maliciously enjoy Ditmar's growing exasperation with him; he had a formal, + precise manner of talking, as though he spent most of his time presenting + cases in committees: and in warding off Ditmar's objections he was forever + indulging in such maddening phrases as, “Before we come to that, let me + say a word just here.” Ditmar hated words. His outbursts, his efforts to + stop the flow of them were not unlike the futile charges of a large and + powerful animal harassed by a smaller and more agile one. With nimble + politeness, with an exasperating air of deference to Ditmar's opinions, + Mr. Siddons gave ground, only to return to the charge; yet, despite a + manner and method which, when contrasted to Ditmar's, verged on the + ludicrous, Mr. Siddons had a force and fire of his own, nervous, almost + fanatical: when he dwelt on the misery he had seen, and his voice trembled + from the intensity of his feeling, Janet began to be moved. It was odd, + considering the struggle for existence of her own family, that these + foreigners had remained outside the range of her sympathy. + </p> + <p> + “I guess you'll find,” Ditmar had interrupted peremptorily, “I guess + you'll find, if you look up the savings banks statistics, these people + have got millions tucked away. And they send a lot of it to the other + side, they go back themselves, and though they live like cattle, they + manage to buy land. Ask the real estate men. Why, I could show you a dozen + who worked in the mills a few years ago and are capitalists to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't doubt it, Mr. Ditmar,” Siddons gracefully conceded. “But what + does it prove? Merely the cruelty of an economic system based on ruthless + competition. The great majority who are unable to survive the test pay the + price. And the community also pays the price, the state and nation pay it. + And we have this misery on our consciences. I've no doubt you could show + me some who have grown rich, but if you would let me I could take you to + families in desperate want, living in rooms too dark to read in at midday + in clear weather, where the husband doesn't get more than seven dollars a + week when the mills are running full time, where the woman has to look out + for the children and work for the lodgers, and even with lodgers they get + into debt, and the woman has to go into the mills to earn money for winter + clothing. I've seen enough instances of this kind to offset the savings + bank argument. And even then, when you have a family where the wife and + older children work, where the babies are put out to board, where there + are three and four lodgers in a room, why do you suppose they live that + way? Isn't it in the hope of freeing themselves ultimately from these very + conditions? And aren't these conditions a disgrace to Hampton and + America?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what am I to do about it?” Ditmar demanded. + </p> + <p> + “I see that these operatives have comfortable and healthful surroundings + in the mill, I've spent money to put in the latest appliances. That's more + than a good many mills I could mention attempt.” + </p> + <p> + “You are a person of influence, Mr. Ditmar, you have more influence than + any man in Hampton. You can bring pressure to bear on the city council to + enforce and improve the building ordinances, you can organize a campaign + of public opinion against certain property owners.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” retorted Ditmar, “and what then? You raise the rents, and you won't + get anybody to live in the houses. They'll move out to settlements like + Glendale full of dirt and vermin and disease and live as they're + accustomed to. What you reformers are actually driving at is that we + should raise wages—isn't it? If we raised wages they'd live like + rats anyway. I give you credit for sincerity, Mr. Siddons, but I don't + want you to think I'm not as much interested in the welfare of these + people as you and the men behind you. The trouble is, you only see one + side of this question. When you're in my position, you're up against hard + facts. We can't pay a dubber or a drawing tender any more than he's worth, + whether he has a wife or children in the mills or whether he hasn't. We're + in competition with other mills, we're in competition with the South. We + can't regulate the cost of living. We do our best to make things right in + the mills, and that's all we can do. We can't afford to be sentimental + about life. Competition's got to be the rule, the world's made that way. + Some are efficient and some aren't. Good God, any man who's had anything + to do with hiring labour and running a plant has that drummed into him + hard. You talk about ordinances, laws—there are enough laws and + ordinances in this city and in this state right now. If we have any more + the mills will have to shut down, and these people will starve—all + of 'em.” Ditmar's chair came down on its four legs, and he flung his cigar + away. “Send me a copy of your survey when it's published. I'll look it + over.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what do you think of the nerve of a man like that?” Ditmar + exploded, when Mr. Siddons had bowed himself out. “Comes in here to advise + me that it's my business to look out for the whole city of Hampton. I'd + like to see him up against this low-class European labour trying to run a + mill with them. They're here one day and there the next, they don't know + what loyalty is. You've got to drive 'em—if you give 'em an inch + they'll jump at your throat, dynamite your property. Why, there's nothing + I wouldn't do for them if I could depend on them, I'd build 'em houses, + I'd have automobiles to take 'em home. As it is, I do my best, though they + don't deserve it,—in slack seasons I run half time when I oughtn't + to be running at all.” + </p> + <p> + His tone betrayed an effort of self-justification, and his irritation had + been increased by the suspicion in Janet of a certain lack of the sympathy + on which he had counted. She sat silent, gazing searchingly at his face. + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter?” he demanded. “You don't mean to say you agree with + that kind of talk?” + </p> + <p> + “I was wondering—” she began. + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “If you were—if you could really understand those who are driven to + work in order to keep alive?” + </p> + <p> + “Understand them! Why not?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Because—because you're on top, you've always been successful, + you're pretty much your own master—and that makes it different. I'm + not blaming you—in your place I'd be the same, I'm sure. But this + man, Siddons, made me think. I've lived like that, you see, I know what it + is, in a way.” + </p> + <p> + “Not like these foreigners!” he protested. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, almost as bad,” she cried with vehemence, and Ditmar, stopped + suddenly in his pacing as by a physical force, looked at her with the + startled air of the male who has inadvertently touched off one of the many + hidden springs in the feminine emotional mechanism. “How do you know what + it is to live in a squalid, ugly street, in dark little rooms that smell + of cooking, and not be able to have any of the finer, beautiful things in + life? Unless you'd wanted these things as I've wanted them, you couldn't + know. Oh, I can understand what it would feel like to strike, to wish to + dynamite men like you!” + </p> + <p> + “You can!” he exclaimed in amazement. “You!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, me. You don't understand these people, you couldn't feel sorry for + them any more than you could feel sorry for me. You want them to run your + mills for you, you don't want to know how they feel or how they live, and + you just want me—for your pleasure.” + </p> + <p> + He was indeed momentarily taken aback by this taunt, which no woman in his + experience had had the wit and spirit to fling at him, but he was not the + type of man to be shocked by it. On the contrary, it swept away his + irritation, and as a revelation of her inner moltenness stirred him to a + fever heat as he approached and stood over her. + </p> + <p> + “You little—panther!” he whispered. “You want beautiful things, do + you? Well, I'll give 'em to you. I'll take care of you.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think I want them from you?” she retorted, almost in tears. “Do + you think I want anybody to take care of me? That shows how little you + know me. I want to be independent, to do my work and pay for what I get.” + </p> + <p> + Janet herself was far from comprehending the complexity of her feelings. + Ditmar had not apologized or feigned an altruism for which she would + indeed have despised him. The ruthlessness of his laugh—the laugh of + the red-blooded man who makes laws that he himself may be lawless shook + her with a wild appeal. “What do I care about any others—I want + you!” such was its message. And against this paradoxical wish to be + conquered, intensified by the magnetic field of his passion, battled her + self-assertion, her pride, her innate desire to be free, to escape now + from a domination the thought of which filled her with terror. She felt + his cheek brushing against her hair, his fingers straying along her arm; + for the moment she was hideously yet deliciously powerless. Then the + emotion of terror conquered—terror of the unknown—and she + sprang away, dropping her note-book and running to the window, where she + stood swaying. + </p> + <p> + “Janet, you're killing me,” she heard him say. “For God's sake, why can't + you trust me?” + </p> + <p> + She did not answer, but gazed out at the primrose lights beginning to + twinkle fantastically in the distant mills. Presently she turned. Ditmar + was in his chair. She crossed the room to the electric switch, turning on + the flood of light, picked up her tote-book and sat down again. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you intend to answer your letters?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + He reached out gropingly toward the pile of his correspondence, seized the + topmost letter, and began to dictate, savagely. She experienced a certain + exultation, a renewed and pleasurable sense of power as she took down his + words. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX + </h2> + <p> + At certain moments during the days that followed the degree of tension her + relationship with Ditmar had achieved tested the limits of Janet's + ingenuity and powers of resistance. Yet the sense of mastery at being able + to hold such a man in leash was by no means unpleasurable to a young woman + of her vitality and spirit. There was always the excitement that the leash + might break—and then what? Here was a situation, she knew + instinctively, that could not last, one fraught with all sorts of + possibilities, intoxicating or abhorrent to contemplate; and for that very + reason fascinating. When she was away from Ditmar and tried to think about + it she fell into an abject perplexity, so full was it of anomalies and + contradictions, of conflicting impulses; so far beyond her knowledge and + experience. For Janet had been born in an age which is rapidly discarding + blanket morality and taboos, which has as yet to achieve the morality of + scientific knowledge, of the individual instance. Tradition, convention, + the awful examples portrayed for gain in the movies, even her mother's + pessimistic attitude in regard to the freedom with which the sexes mingle + to-day were powerless to influence her. The thought, however, that she + might fundamentally resemble her sister Lise, despite a fancied + superiority, did occasionally shake her and bring about a revulsion + against Ditmar. Janet's problem was in truth, though she failed so to + specialize it, the supreme problem of our time: what is the path to + self-realization? how achieve emancipation from the commonplace? + </p> + <p> + Was she in love with Ditmar? The question was distasteful, she avoided it, + for enough of the tatters of orthodox Christianity clung to her to cause + her to feel shame when she contemplated the feelings he aroused in her. It + was when she asked herself what his intentions were that her resentment + burned, pride and a sense of her own value convinced her that he had + deeply insulted her in not offering marriage. Plainly, he did not intend + to offer marriage; on the other hand, if he had done so, a profound, + self-respecting and moral instinct in her would, in her present mood, have + led her to refuse. She felt a fine scorn for the woman who, under the + circumstances, would insist upon a bond and all a man's worldly goods in + return for that which it was her privilege to give freely; while the + notion of servility, of economic dependence—though she did not so + phrase it—repelled her far more than the possibility of social ruin. + </p> + <p> + This she did not contemplate at all; her impulse to leave Hampton and + Ditmar had nothing to do with that.... + </p> + <p> + Away from Ditmar, this war of inclinations possessed her waking mind, + invaded her dreams. When she likened herself to the other exploited beings + he drove to run his mills and fill his orders,—of whom Mr. Siddons + had spoken—her resolution to leave Hampton gained such definite + ascendancy that her departure seemed only a matter of hours. + </p> + <p> + In this perspective Ditmar appeared so ruthless, his purpose to use her + and fling her away so palpable, that she despised herself for having + hesitated. A longing for retaliation consumed her; she wished to hurt him + before she left. At such times, however, unforeseen events invariably + intruded to complicate her feelings and alter her plans. One evening at + supper, for instance, when she seemed at last to have achieved the + comparative peace of mind that follows a decision after struggle, she + gradually became aware of an outburst from Hannah concerning the stove, + the condition of which for many months had been a menace to the welfare of + the family. Edward, it appeared, had remarked mildly on the absence of + beans. + </p> + <p> + “Beans!” Hannah cried. “You're lucky to have any supper at all. I just + wish I could get you to take a look at that oven—there's a hole you + can put your hand through, if you've a mind to. I've done my best, I've + made out to patch it from time to time, and to-day I had Mr. Tiernan in. + He says it's a miracle I've been able to bake anything. A new one'll cost + thirty dollars, and I don't know where the money's coming from to buy it. + And the fire-box is most worn through.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, mother, we'll see what we can do,” said Edward. + </p> + <p> + “You're always seeing what you can do, but I notice you never do + anything,” retorted Hannah; and Edward had the wisdom not to reply. Beside + his place lay a lengthy, close-written letter, and from time to time, as + he ate his canned pears, his hand turned over one of its many sheets. + </p> + <p> + “It's from Eben Wheeler, says he's been considerably troubled with + asthma,” he observed presently. “His mother was a Bumpus, a daughter of + Caleb-descended from Robert, who went from Dolton to Tewksbury in 1816, + and fought in the war of 1812. I've told you about him. This Caleb was + born in '53, and he's living now with his daughter's family in Detroit.... + Son-in-law's named Nott, doing well with a construction company. Now I + never could find out before what became of Robert's descendants. He + married Sarah Styles” (reading painfully) “'and they had issue, John, + Robert, Anne, Susan, Eliphalet. John went to Middlebury, Vermont, and + married.'” + </p> + <p> + Hannah, gathering up the plates, clattered them together noisily. + </p> + <p> + “A lot of good it does us to have all that information about Eben + Wheeler's asthma!” she complained. “It'll buy us a new stove, I guess. Him + and his old Bumpus papers! If the house burned down over our heads that's + all he'd think of.” + </p> + <p> + As she passed to and fro from the dining-room to the kitchen Hannah's + lamentations continued, grew more and more querulous. Accustomed as Janet + was to these frequent arraignments of her father's inefficiency, it was + gradually borne in upon her now—despite a preoccupation with her own + fate—that the affair thus plaintively voiced by her mother was in + effect a family crisis of the first magnitude. She was stirred anew to + anger and revolt against a life so precarious and sordid as to be + threatened in its continuity by the absurd failure of a stove, when, + glancing at her sister, she felt a sharp pang of self-conviction, of + self-disgust. Was she, also, like that, indifferent and self-absorbed? + Lise, in her evening finery, looking occasionally at the clock, was + awaiting the hour set for a rendezvous, whiling away the time with the + Boston evening sheet whose glaring red headlines stretched across the + page. When the newspaper fell to her lap a dreamy expression clouded + Lise's eyes. She was thinking of some man! Quickly Janet looked away, at + her father, only to be repelled anew by the expression, almost of fatuity, + she discovered on his face as he bent over the letter once more. Suddenly + she experienced an overwhelming realization of the desperation of Hannah's + plight,—the destiny of spending one's days, without sympathy, + toiling in the confinement of these rooms to supply their bodily needs. + Never had a destiny seemed so appalling. And yet Janet resented that pity. + The effect of it was to fetter and inhibit; from the moment of its + intrusion she was no longer a free agent, to leave Hampton and Ditmar when + she chose. Without her, this family was helpless. She rose, and picked up + some of the dishes. Hannah snatched them from her hands. + </p> + <p> + “Leave 'em alone, Janet!” she said with unaccustomed sharpness. “I guess I + ain't too feeble to handle 'em yet.” + </p> + <p> + And a flash of new understanding came to Janet. The dishes were vicarious, + a substitute for that greater destiny out of which Hannah had been cheated + by fate. A substitute, yes, and perhaps become something of a mania, like + her father's Bumpus papers.... Janet left the room swiftly, entered the + bedroom, put on her coat and hat, and went out. Across the street the + light in Mr. Tiernan's shop was still burning, and through the window she + perceived Mr. Tiernan himself tilted back in his chair, his feet on the + table, the tip of his nose pointed straight at the ceiling. When the bell + betrayed the opening of the door he let down his chair on the floor with a + bang. + </p> + <p> + “Why, it's Miss Janet!” he exclaimed. “How are you this evening, now? I + was just hoping some one would pay me a call.” + </p> + <p> + Twinkling at her, he managed, somewhat magically, to dispel her temper of + pessimism, and she was moved to reply:—“You know you were having a + beautiful time, all by yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “A beautiful time, is it? Maybe it's because I was dreaming of some young + lady a-coming to pay me a visit.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, dreams never come up to expectations, do they?” + </p> + <p> + “Then it's dreaming I am, still,” retorted Mr. Tiernan, quickly. + </p> + <p> + Janet laughed. His tone, though bantering, was respectful. One of the + secrets of Mr. Tiernan's very human success was due to his ability to + estimate his fellow creatures. His manner of treating Janet, for instance, + was quite different from that he employed in dealing with Lise. In the + course of one interview he had conveyed to Lise, without arousing her + antagonism, the conviction that it was wiser to trust him than to attempt + to pull wool over his eyes. Janet had the intelligence to trust him; and + to-night, as she faced him, the fact was brought home to her with peculiar + force that this wiry-haired little man was the person above all others of + her immediate acquaintance to seek in time of trouble. It was his great + quality. Moreover, Mr. Tiernan, even in his morning greetings as she + passed, always contrived to convey to her, in some unaccountable fashion, + the admiration and regard in which he held her, and the effect of her + contact with him was invariably to give her a certain objective image of + herself, an increased self-confidence and self-respect. For instance, by + the light dancing in Mr. Tiernan's eyes as he regarded her, she saw + herself now as the mainstay of the helpless family in the clay-yellow flat + across the street. And there was nothing, she was convinced, Mr. Tiernan + did not know about that family. So she said:—“I've come to see about + the stove.” + </p> + <p> + “Sure,” he replied, as much as to say that the visit was not unexpected. + “Well, I've been thinking about it, Miss Janet. I've got a stove here I + know'll suit your mother. It's a Reading, it's almost new. Ye'd better be + having a look at it yourself.” + </p> + <p> + He led her into a chaos of stoves, grates, and pipes at the back of the + store. + </p> + <p> + “It's in need of a little polish,” he added, as he turned on a light, “but + it's sound, and a good baker, and economical with coal.” He opened the + oven and took off the lids. + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid I don't know much about stoves,” she told him. “But I'll trust + your judgment. How much is it?” she inquired hesitatingly. + </p> + <p> + He ran his hand through his corkscrewed hair, his familiar gesture. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'm willing to let ye have it for twenty-five dollars. If that's + too much—mebbe we can find another.” + </p> + <p> + “Can you put it in to-morrow morning?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “I can that,” he said. She drew out her purse. “Ye needn't be paying for + it all at once,” he protested, laying a hand on her arm. “You won't be + running away.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'd rather—I have the money,” she declared hurriedly; and she + turned her back that he might not perceive, when she had extracted the + bills, how little was left in her purse. + </p> + <p> + “I'll wager ye won't be wanting another soon,” he said, as he escorted her + to the door. And he held it open, politely, looking after her, until she + had crossed the street, calling out a cheerful “Goodnight” that had in it + something of a benediction. She avoided the dining-room and went straight + to bed, in a strange medley of feelings. The self-sacrifice had brought a + certain self-satisfaction not wholly unpleasant. She had been equal to the + situation, and a part of her being approved of this,—a part which + had been suppressed in another mood wherein she had become convinced that + self-realization lay elsewhere. Life was indeed a bewildering thing.... + </p> + <p> + The next morning, at breakfast, though her mother's complaints continued, + Janet was silent as to her purchase, and she lingered on her return home + in the evening because she now felt a reluctance to appear in the role of + protector and preserver of the family. She would have preferred, if + possible, to give the stove anonymously. Not that the expression of + Hannah's gratitude was maudlin; she glared at Janet when she entered the + dining-room and exclaimed: “You hadn't ought to have gone and done it!” + </p> + <p> + And Janet retorted, with almost equal vehemence:—“Somebody had to do + it—didn't they? Who else was there?” + </p> + <p> + “It's a shame for you to spend your money on such things. You'd ought to + save it you'll need it,” Hannah continued illogically. + </p> + <p> + “It's lucky I had the money,” said Janet. + </p> + <p> + Both Janet and Hannah knew that these recriminations, from the other, were + the explosive expressions of deep feeling. Janet knew that her mother was + profoundly moved by her sacrifice. She herself was moved by Hannah's + plight, but tenderness and pity were complicated by a renewed sense of + rebellion against an existence that exacted such a situation. + </p> + <p> + “I hope the stove's all right, mother,” she said. “Mr. Tiernan seemed to + think it was a good one.” + </p> + <p> + “It's a different thing,” declared Hannah. “I was just wondering this + evening, before you came in, how I ever made out to cook anything on the + other. Come and see how nice it looks.” + </p> + <p> + Janet followed her into the kitchen. As they stood close together gazing + at the new purchase Janet was uncomfortably aware of drops that ran a + little way in the furrows of Hannah's cheeks, stopped, and ran on again. + She seized her apron and clapped it to her face. + </p> + <p> + “You hadn't ought to be made to do it!” she sobbed. + </p> + <p> + And Janet was suddenly impelled to commit an act rare in their + intercourse. She kissed her, swiftly, on the cheek, and fled from the + room.... + </p> + <p> + Supper was an ordeal. Janet did not relish her enthronement as a heroine, + she deplored and even resented her mother's attitude toward her father, + which puzzled her; for the studied cruelty of it seemed to belie her + affection for him. Every act and gesture and speech of Hannah's took on + the complexion of an invidious reference to her reliability as compared + with Edward's worthlessness as a provider; and she contrived in some sort + to make the meal a sacrament in commemoration of her elder daughter's act. + </p> + <p> + “I guess you notice the difference in that pork,” she would exclaim, and + when he praised it and attributed its excellence to Janet's gift Hannah + observed: “As long as you ain't got a son, you're lucky to have a daughter + like her!” + </p> + <p> + Janet squirmed. Her father's acceptance of his comparative worthlessness + was so abject that her pity was transferred to him, though she scorned + him, as on former occasions, for the self-depreciation that made him + powerless before her mother's reproaches. After the meal was over he sat + listlessly on the sofa, like a visitor whose presence is endured, + pathetically refraining from that occupation in which his soul found + refreshment and peace, the compilation of the Bumpus genealogy. That + evening the papers remained under the lid of the desk in the corner, + untouched. + </p> + <p> + What troubled Janet above all, however, was the attitude of Lise, who also + came in for her share of implied reproach. Of late Lise had become an + increased source of anxiety to Hannah, who was unwisely resolved to make + this occasion an object lesson. And though parental tenderness had often + moved her to excuse and defend Lise for an increasing remissness in + failing to contribute to the household expenses, she was now quite + relentless in her efforts to wring from Lise an acknowledgment of the + nobility of her sister's act, of qualities in Janet that she, Lise, might + do well to cultivate. Lise was equally determined to withhold any such + acknowledgment; in her face grew that familiar mutinous look that Hannah + invariably failed to recognize as a danger signal; and with it another—the + sophisticated expression of one who knows life and ridicules the lack of + such knowledge in others. Its implication was made certain when the two + girls were alone in their bedroom after supper. Lise, feverishly occupied + with her toilet, on her departure broke the silence there by inquiring:—“Say, + if I had your easy money, I might buy a stove, too. How much does Ditmar + give you, sweetheart?” + </p> + <p> + Janet, infuriated, flew at her sister. Lise struggled to escape. + </p> + <p> + “Leave me go” she whimpered in genuine alarm, and when at length she was + released she went to the mirror and began straightening her hat, which had + flopped to one side of her head. “I didn't mean nothin', I was only + kiddie' you—what's the use of gettin' nutty over a jest?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not like-you,” said Janet. + </p> + <p> + “I was only kiddin', I tell you,” insisted Lise, with a hat pin in her + mouth. “Forget it.” + </p> + <p> + When Lise had gone out Janet sat down in the rocking-chair and began to + rock agitatedly. What had really made her angry, she began to perceive, + was the realization of a certain amount of truth in her sister's + intimation concerning Ditmar. Why should she have, in Lise, continually + before her eyes a degraded caricature of her own aspirations and ideals? + or was Lise a mirror—somewhat tarnished, indeed—in which she + read the truth about herself? For some time Janet had more than suspected + that her sister possessed a new lover—a lover whom she refrained + from discussing; an ominous sign, since it had been her habit to dangle + her conquests before Janet's eyes, to discuss their merits and demerits + with an engaging though cynical freedom. Although the existence of this + gentleman was based on evidence purely circumstantial, Janet was inclined + to believe him of a type wholly different from his predecessors; and the + fact that his attentions were curiously intermittent and irregular + inclined her to the theory that he was not a resident of Hampton. What was + he like? It revolted her to reflect that he might in some ways possibly + resemble Ditmar. Thus he became the object of a morbid speculation, + especially at such times as this, when Lise attired herself in her new + winter finery and went forth to meet him. Janet, also, had recently been + self-convicted of sharing with Lise the same questionable tendency toward + self-adornment to please the eye of man. The very next Saturday night + after she had indulged in that mad extravagance of the blue suit, Lise had + brought home from the window of The Paris in Faber Street a hat that had + excited the cupidity and admiration of Miss Schuler and herself, and in + front of which they had stood languishing on three successive evenings. In + its acquisition Lise had expended almost the whole of a week's salary. Its + colour was purple, on three sides were massed drooping lilac feathers, but + over the left ear the wide brim was caught up and held by a crescent of + brilliant paste stones. Shortly after this purchase—the next week, + in fact,—The Paris had alluringly and craftily displayed, for the + tempting sum of $6.29, the very cloak ordained by providence to “go” with + the hat. Miss Schuler declared it would be a crime to fail to take + advantage of such an opportunity but the trouble was that Lise had had to + wait for two more pay-days and endure the suspense arising from the + possibility that some young lady of taste and means might meanwhile become + its happy proprietor. Had not the saleslady been obdurate, Lise would have + had it on credit; but she did succeed, by an initial payment the ensuing + Saturday, in having it withdrawn from public gaze. The second Saturday + Lise triumphantly brought the cloak home; a velvet cloak,—if the + eyes could be believed,—velvet bordering on plush, with a dark + purple ground delicately and artistically spotted with a lilac to match + the hat feathers, and edged with a material which—if not too + impudently examined and no questions asked—might be mistaken, by the + uninitiated male, for the fur of a white fox. Both investments had been + made, needless to say, on the strength of Janet's increased salary; and + Lise, when Janet had surprised her before the bureau rapturously surveying + the combination, justified herself with a defiant apology. + </p> + <p> + “I just had to have something—what with winter coming on,” she + declared, seizing the hand mirror in order to view the back. “You might as + well get your clothes chick, while you're about it—and I didn't have + to dig up twenty bones, neither—nor anything like it—” a + reflection on Janet's most blue suit and her abnormal extravagance. For it + was Lise's habit to carry the war into the enemy's country. “Sadie's dippy + about it—says it puts her in mind of one of the swells snapshotted + in last Sunday's supplement. Well, dearie, how does the effect get you?” + and she wheeled around for her sister's inspection. + </p> + <p> + “If you take my advice, you'll be careful not to be caught out in the + rain.” + </p> + <p> + “What's chewin' you now?” demanded Lise. She was not lacking in + imagination of a certain sort, and Janet's remark did not fail in its + purpose of summoning up a somewhat abject image of herself in wet velvet + and bedraggled feathers—an image suggestive of a certain hunted type + of woman Lise and her kind held in peculiar horror. And she was the more + resentful because she felt, instinctively, that the memory of this + suggestion would never be completely eradicated: it would persist, like a + canker, to mar the completeness of her enjoyment of these clothes. She + swung on Janet furiously. + </p> + <p> + “I get you, all right!” she cried. “I guess I know what's eatin' you! + You've got money to burn and you're sore because I spend mine to buy what + I need. You don't know how to dress yourself any more than one of them + Polak girls in the mills, and you don't want anybody else to look nice.” + </p> + <p> + And Janet was impelled to make a retort of almost equal crudity:—“If + I were a man and saw you in those clothes I wouldn't wait for an + introduction. You asked me what I thought. I don't care about the money!” + she exclaimed passionately. “I've often told you you were pretty enough + without having to wear that kind of thing—to make men stare at you.” + </p> + <p> + “I want to know if I don't always look like a lady! And there's no man + living would try to pick me up more than once.” The nasal note in Lise's + voice had grown higher and shriller, she was almost weeping with anger. + “You want me to go 'round lookin' like a floorwasher.” + </p> + <p> + “I'd rather look like a floorwasher than—than another kind of + woman,” Janet declared. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you've got your wish, sweetheart,” said Lise. “You needn't be + scared anybody will pick you up.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not,” said Janet.... + </p> + <p> + This quarrel had taken place a week or so before Janet's purchase of the + stove. Hannah, too, was outraged by Lise's costume, and had also been + moved to protest; futile protest. Its only effect on Lise was to convince + her of the existence of a prearranged plan of persecution, to make her + more secretive and sullen than ever before. + </p> + <p> + “Sometimes I just can't believe she's my daughter,” Hannah said dejectedly + to Janet when they were alone together in the kitchen after Lise had gone + out. “I'm fond of her because she's my own flesh and blood—I'm + ashamed of it, but I can't help it. I guess it's what the minister in + Dolton used to call a visitation. I suppose I deserve it, but sometimes I + think maybe if your father had been different he might have been able to + put a stop to the way she's going on. She ain't like any of the Wenches, + nor any of the Bumpuses, so far's I'm able to find out. She just don't + seem to have any notion about right and wrong. Well, the world has got all + jumbled up—it beats me.” + </p> + <p> + Hannah wrung out the mop viciously and hung it over the sink. + </p> + <p> + “I used to hope some respectable man would come along, but I've quit + hopin'. I don't know as any respectable man would want Lise, or that I + could honestly wish him to have her.” + </p> + <p> + “Mother!” protested Janet. Sometimes, in those conversations, she was + somewhat paradoxically impelled to defend her sister. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I don't,” insisted Hannah, “that's a fact. I'll tell you what she + looks like in that hat and cloak—a bad woman. I don't say she is—I + don't know what I'd do if I thought she was, but I never expected my + daughter to look like one.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Lise can take care of herself,” Janet said, in spite of certain + recent misgivings. + </p> + <p> + “This town's Sodom and Gomorrah rolled into one,” declared Hannah who, + from early habit, was occasionally prone to use scriptural parallels. And + after a moment's silence she inquired: “Who's this man that's payin' her + attention now?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” replied Janet, “I don't know that there's anybody.” + </p> + <p> + “I guess there is,” said Hannah. “I used to think that that Wiley was low + enough, but I could see him. It was some satisfaction. I could know the + worst, anyhow.... I guess it's about time for another flood.” + </p> + <p> + This talk had left Janet in one of these introspective states so frequent + in her recent experience. Her mother had used the words “right” and + “wrong.” But what was “right,” or “wrong?” There was no use asking Hannah, + who—she perceived—was as confused and bewildered as herself. + Did she refuse to encourage Mr. Ditmar because it was wrong? because, if + she acceded to his desires, and what were often her own, she would be + punished in an after life? She was not at all sure whether she believed in + an after life,—a lack of faith that had, of late, sorely troubled + her friend Eda Rawle, who had “got religion” from an itinerant evangelist + and was now working off, in a “live” church, some of the emotional + idealism which is the result of a balked sex instinct in young unmarried + women of a certain mentality and unendowed with good looks. This was not, + of course, Janet's explanation of the change in her friend, of whom she + now saw less and less. They had had arguments, in which neither gained any + ground. For the first time in their intercourse, ideas had come between + them, Eda having developed a surprising self-assertion when her new + convictions were attacked, a dogged loyalty to a scheme of salvation that + Janet found neither inspiring nor convincing. She resented being prayed + for, and an Eda fervent in good works bored her more than ever. Eda was + deeply pained by Janet's increasing avoidance of her company, yet her + heroine-worship persisted. Her continued regard for her friend might + possibly be compared to the attitude of an orthodox Baptist who has + developed a hobby, let us say, for Napoleon Bonaparte. + </p> + <p> + Janet was not wholly without remorse. She valued Eda's devotion, she + sincerely regretted the fact, on Eda's account as well as her own, that it + was a devotion of no use to her in the present crisis nor indeed in any + crisis likely to confront her in life: she had felt instinctively from the + first that the friendship was not founded on, mental harmony, and now it + was brought home to her that Eda's solution could never be hers. Eda would + have been thrilled on learning of Ditmar's attentions, would have + advocated the adoption of a campaign leading up to matrimony. In + matrimony, for Eda, the soul was safe. Eda would have been horrified that + Janet should have dallied with any other relationship; God would punish + her. Janet, in her conflict between alternate longing and repugnance, was + not concerned with the laws and retributions of God. She felt, indeed, the + need of counsel, and knew not where to turn for it,—the modern need + for other than supernatural sanctions. She did not resist her desire for + Ditmar because she believed, in the orthodox sense, that it was wrong, but + because it involved a loss of self-respect, a surrender of the personality + from the very contemplation of which she shrank. She was a true daughter + of her time. + </p> + <p> + On Friday afternoon, shortly after Ditmar had begun to dictate his + correspondence, Mr. Holster, the agent of the Clarendon Mill, arrived and + interrupted him. Janet had taken advantage of the opportunity to file away + some answered letters when her attention was distracted from her work by + the conversation, which had gradually grown louder. The two men were + standing by the window, facing one another, in an attitude that struck her + as dramatic. Both were vital figures, dominant types which had survived + and prevailed in that upper world of unrelenting struggle for supremacy + into which, through her relation to Ditmar, she had been projected, and + the significance of which she had now begun to realize. She surveyed + Holster critically. He was short, heavily built, with an almost grotesque + width of shoulder, a muddy complexion, thick lips, and kinky, greasy black + hair that glistened in the sun. His nasal voice was complaining, yet + distinctly aggressive, and he emphasized his words by gestures. The veins + stood out on his forehead. She wondered what his history had been. She + compared him to Ditmar, on whose dust-grey face she was quick to detect a + look she had seen before—a contraction of the eyes, a tightening of + the muscles of the jaw. That look, and the peculiarly set attitude of the + body accompanying it, aroused in her a responsive sense of championship. + </p> + <p> + “All right, Ditmar,” she heard the other exclaim. “I tell you again you'll + never be able to pull it off.” + </p> + <p> + Ditmar's laugh was short, defiant. + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Why not! Because the fifty-four hour law goes into effect in January.” + </p> + <p> + “What's that got to do with it?” Ditmar demanded. + </p> + <p> + “You'll see—you'll remember what I told you fellows at the + conference after that bill went through and that damned demagogue of a + governor insisted on signing it. I said, if we tried to cut wages down to + a fifty-four hour basis we'd have a strike on our hands in every mill in + Hampton,—didn't I? I said it would cost us millions of dollars, and + make all the other strikes we've had here look like fifty cents. Didn't I + say that? Hammond, our president, backed me up, and Rogers of the wool + people. You remember? You were the man who stood out against it, and they + listened to you, they voted to cut down the pay and say nothing about it. + Wait until those first pay envelopes are opened after that law goes into + effect. You'll see what'll happen! You'll never be able to fill that + Bradlaugh order in God's world.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh hell,” retorted Ditmar, contemptuously. “You're always for lying down, + Holster. Why don't you hand over your mill to the unions and go to work on + a farm? You might as well, if you're going to let the unions run the + state. Why not have socialism right now, and cut out the agony? When they + got the politicians to make the last cut from fifty-six to fifty-four and + we kept on payin' 'em for fifty-six, against my advice, what happened? Did + they thank us? I guess not. Were they contented? Not on your life. They + went right on agitating, throwing scares into the party conventions and + into the House and Senate Committees,—and now it's fifty-four hours. + It'll be fifty in a couple of years, and then we'll have to scrap our + machinery and turn over the trade to the South and donate our mills to the + state for insane asylums.” + </p> + <p> + “No, if we handle this thing right, we'll have the public on our side. + They're getting sick of the unions now.” + </p> + <p> + Ditmar went to the desk for a cigar, bit it off, and lighted it. + </p> + <p> + “The public!” he exclaimed contemptuously. “A whole lot of good they'll do + us.” + </p> + <p> + Holster approached him, menacingly, until the two men stood almost + touching, and for a moment it seemed to Janet as if the agent of the + Clarendon were ready to strike Ditmar. She held her breath, her blood ran + faster,—the conflict between these two made an elemental appeal. + </p> + <p> + “All right—remember what I say—wait and see where you come out + with that order.” Holster's voice trembled with anger. He hesitated, and + left the office abruptly. Ditmar stood gazing after him for a moment and + then, taking his cigar from his mouth, turned and smiled at Janet and + seated himself in his chair. His eyes, still narrowed, had in them a gleam + of triumph that thrilled her. Combat seemed to stimulate and energize him. + </p> + <p> + “He thought he could bluff me into splitting that Bradlaugh order with the + Clarendon,” Ditmar exclaimed. “Well, he'll have to guess again. I've got + his number.” He began to turn over his letters. “Let's see, where were we? + Tell Caldwell not to let in any more idiots, and shut the door.” + </p> + <p> + Janet obeyed, and when she returned Ditmar was making notes with a pencil + on a pad. The conversation with Holter had given her a new idea of + Ditmar's daring in attempting to fill the Bradlaugh order with the + Chippering Mills alone, had aroused in her more strongly than ever that + hot loyalty to the mills with which he had inspired her; and that strange + surge of sympathy, of fellow-feeling for the operatives she had + experienced after the interview with Mr. Siddons, of rebellion against + him, the conviction that she also was one of the slaves he exploited, had + wholly disappeared. Ditmar was the Chippering Mills, and she, somehow, + enlisted once again on his side. + </p> + <p> + “By the way,” he said abruptly, “you won't mention this—I know.” + </p> + <p> + “Won't mention what?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “This matter about the pay envelopes—that we don't intend to + continue giving the operatives fifty-six hours' pay for fifty-four when + this law goes into effect. They're like animals, most of 'em, they don't + reason, and it might make trouble if it got out now. You understand. + They'd have time to brood over it, to get the agitators started. When the + time comes they may kick a little, but they'll quiet down. And it'll teach + 'em a lesson.” + </p> + <p> + “I never mention anything I hear in this office,” she told him. + </p> + <p> + “I know you don't,” he assured her, apologetically. “I oughtn't to have + said that—it was only to put you on your guard, in case you heard it + spoken of. You see how important it is, how much trouble an agitator might + make by getting them stirred up? You can see what it means to me, with + this order on my hands. I've staked everything on it.” + </p> + <p> + “But—when the law goes into effect? when the operatives find out + that they are not receiving their full wages—as Mr. Holster said?” + Janet inquired. + </p> + <p> + “Why, they may grumble a little—but I'll be on the lookout for any + move. I'll see to that. I'll teach 'em a lesson as to how far they can + push this business of shorter hours and equal pay. It's the unskilled + workers who are mostly affected, you understand, and they're not + organized. If we can keep out the agitators, we're all right. Even then, + I'll show 'em they can't come in here and exploit my operatives.” + </p> + <p> + In the mood in which she found herself his self-confidence, his + aggressiveness continued to inspire and even to agitate her, to compel her + to accept his point of view. + </p> + <p> + “Why,” he continued, “I trust you as I never trusted anybody else. I've + told you that before. Ever since you've been here you've made life a + different thing for me—just by your being here. I don't know what + I'd do without you. You've got so much sense about things—about + people,—and I sometimes think you've got almost the same feeling + about these mills that I have. You didn't tell me you went through the + mills with Caldwell the other day,” he added, accusingly. + </p> + <p> + “I—I forgot,” said Janet. “Why should I tell—you?” She knew + that all thought of Holster had already slipped from his mind. She did not + look up. “If you're not going to finish your letters,” she said, a little + faintly, “I've got some copying to do.” + </p> + <p> + “You're a deep one,” he said. And as he turned to the pile of + correspondence she heard him sigh. He began to dictate. She took down his + sentences automatically, scarcely knowing what she was writing; he was + making love to her as intensely as though his words had been the absolute + expression of his desire instead of the commonplace mediums of commercial + intercourse. Presently he stopped and began fumbling in one of the drawers + of his desk. + </p> + <p> + “Where is the memorandum I made last week for Percy and Company?” + </p> + <p> + “Isn't it there?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + But he continued to fumble, running through the papers and disarranging + them until she could stand it no longer. + </p> + <p> + “You never know where to find anything,” she declared, rising and darting + around the desk and bending over the drawer, her deft fingers rapidly + separating the papers. She drew forth the memorandum triumphantly. + </p> + <p> + “There!” she exclaimed. “It was right before your eyes.” + </p> + <p> + As she thrust it at him his hand closed over hers. She felt him drawing + her, irresistibly. + </p> + <p> + “Janet!” he said. “For God's sake—you're killing me—don't you + know it? I can't stand it any longer!” + </p> + <p> + “Don't!” she whispered, terror-stricken, straining away from him. “Mr. + Ditmar—let me go!” + </p> + <p> + A silent struggle ensued, she resisting him with all the aroused strength + and fierceness of her nature. He kissed her hair, her neck,—she had + never imagined such a force as this, she felt herself weakening, welcoming + the annihilation of his embrace. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Ditmar!” she cried. “Somebody will come in.” + </p> + <p> + Her fingers sank into his neck, she tried to hurt him and by a final + effort flung herself free and fled to the other side of the room. + </p> + <p> + “You little—wildcat!” she heard him exclaim, saw him put his + handkerchief to his neck where her fingers had been, saw a red stain on + it. “I'll have you yet!” + </p> + <p> + But even then, as she stood leaning against the wall, motionless save for + the surging of her breast, there was about her the same strange, feral + inscrutableness. He was baffled, he could not tell what she was thinking. + She seemed, unconquered, to triumph over her disarray and the agitation of + her body. Then, with an involuntary gesture she raised her hands to her + hair, smoothing it, and without seeming haste left the room, not so much + as glancing at him, closing the door behind her. + </p> + <p> + She reached her table in the outer office and sat down, gazing out of the + window. The face of the world—the river, the mills, and the bridge—was + changed, tinged with a new and unreal quality. She, too, must be changed. + She wasn't, couldn't be the same person who had entered that room of + Ditmar's earlier in the afternoon! Mr. Caldwell made a commonplace remark, + she heard herself answer him. Her mind was numb, only her body seemed + swept by fire, by emotions—emotions of fear, of anger, of desire so + intense as to make her helpless. And when at length she reached out for a + sheet of carbon paper her hand trembled so she could scarcely hold it. + Only by degrees was she able to get sufficient control of herself to begin + her copying, when she found a certain relief in action—her hands + flying over the keys, tearing off the finished sheets, and replacing them + with others. She did not want to think, to decide, and yet she knew—something + was trying to tell her that the moment for decision had come. She must + leave, now. If she stayed on, this tremendous adventure she longed for and + dreaded was inevitable. Fear and fascination battled within her. To run + away was to deny life; to remain, to taste and savour it. She had tasted + it—was it sweet?—that sense of being swept away, engulfed by + an elemental power beyond them both, yet in them both? She felt him + drawing her to him, and she struggling yet inwardly longing to yield. And + the scarlet stain on his handkerchief—when she thought of that her + blood throbbed, her face burned. + </p> + <p> + At last the door of the inner office opened, and Ditmar came out and stood + by the rail. His voice was queer, scarcely recognizable. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Bumpus—would you mind coming into my room a moment, before you + leave?” he said. + </p> + <p> + She rose instantly and followed him, closing the door behind her, but + standing at bay against it, her hand on the knob. + </p> + <p> + “I'm not going to touch you—you needn't be afraid,” he said. + Reassured by the unsteadiness of his voice she raised her eyes to perceive + that his face was ashy, his manner nervous, apprehensive, conciliatory,—a + Ditmar she had difficulty in recognizing. “I didn't mean to frighten, to + offend you,” he went on. “Something got hold of me. I was crazy, I + couldn't help it—I won't do it again, if you'll stay. I give you my + word.” + </p> + <p> + She did not reply. After a pause he began again, repeating himself. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't mean to do it. I was carried away—it all happened before I + knew. I—I wouldn't frighten you that way for anything in the world.” + </p> + <p> + Still she was silent. + </p> + <p> + “For God's sake, speak to me!” he cried. “Say you forgive me—give me + another chance!” + </p> + <p> + But she continued to gaze at him with widened, enigmatic eyes—whether + of reproach or contempt or anger he could not say. The situation + transcended his experience. He took an uncertain step toward her, as + though half expecting her to flee, and stopped. + </p> + <p> + “Listen!” he pleaded. “I can't talk to you here. Won't you give me a + chance to explain—to put myself right? You know what I think of you, + how I respect and—admire you. If you'll only let me see you + somewhere—anywhere, outside of the office, for a little while, I + can't tell you how much I'd appreciate it. I'm sure you don't understand + how I feel—I couldn't bear to lose you. I'll be down by the canal—near + the bridge—at eight o'clock to-night. I'll wait for you. You'll + come? Say you'll come, and give me another chance!” + </p> + <p> + “Aren't you going to finish your letters?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + He stared at her in sheer perplexity. “Letters!” he exclaimed. “Damn the + letters! Do you think I could write any letters now?” + </p> + <p> + As a faint ray in dark waters, a gleam seemed to dance in the shadows of + her eyes, yet was gone so swiftly that he could not be sure of having seen + it. Had she smiled? + </p> + <p> + “I'll be there,” he cried. “I'll wait for you.” + </p> + <p> + She turned from him, opened the door, and went out. + </p> + <p> + That evening, as Janet was wiping the dishes handed her by her mother, she + was repeating to herself “Shall I go—or shan't I?”—just as if + the matter were in doubt. But in her heart she was convinced of its + predetermination by some power other than her own volition. With this + feeling, that she really had no choice, that she was being guided and + impelled, she went to her bedroom after finishing her task. The hands of + the old dining-room clock pointed to quarter of eight, and Lise had + already made her toilet and departed. Janet opened the wardrobe, looked at + the new blue suit hanging so neatly on its wire holder, hesitated, and + closed the door again. Here, at any rate, seemed a choice. She would not + wear that, to-night. She tidied her hair, put on her hat and coat, and + went out; but once in the street she did not hurry, though she knew the + calmness she apparently experienced to be false: the calmness of fatality, + because she was obeying a complicated impulse stronger than herself—an + impulse that at times seemed mere curiosity. Somewhere, removed from her + immediate consciousness, a storm was raging; she was aware of a + disturbance that reached her faintly, like the distant throbbing of the + looms she heard when she turned from Faber into West Street She had not + been able to eat any supper. That throbbing of the looms in the night! As + it grew louder and louder the tension within her increased, broke its + bounds, set her heart to throbbing too—throbbing wildly. She halted, + and went on again, precipitately, but once more slowed her steps as she + came to West Street and the glare of light at the end of the bridge; at a + little distance, under the chequered shadows of the bare branches, she saw + something move—a man, Ditmar. She stood motionless as he hurried + toward her. + </p> + <p> + “You've come! You've forgiven me?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Why were you—down there?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Why? Because I thought—I thought you wouldn't want anybody to know—” + </p> + <p> + It was quite natural that he should not wish to be seen; although she had + no feeling of guilt, she herself did not wish their meeting known. She + resented the subterfuge in him, but she made no comment because his + perplexity, his embarrassment were gratifying to her resentment, were + restoring her self-possession, giving her a sense of power. + </p> + <p> + “We can't stay here,” he went on, after a moment. “Let's take a little + walk—I've got a lot to say to you. I want to put myself right.” He + tried to take her arm, but she avoided him. They started along the canal + in the direction of the Stanley Street bridge. “Don't you care for me a + little?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Why should I?” she parried. + </p> + <p> + “Then—why did you come?” + </p> + <p> + “To hear what you had to say.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean—about this afternoon?” + </p> + <p> + “Partly,” said Janet. + </p> + <p> + “Well—we'll talk it all over. I wanted to explain about this + afternoon, especially. I'm sorry—” + </p> + <p> + “Sorry!” she exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + The vehemence of her rebuke—for he recognized it as such—took + him completely aback. Thus she was wont, at the most unexpected moments, + to betray the passion within her, the passion that made him sick with + desire. How was he to conquer a woman of this type, who never took refuge + in the conventional tactics of her sex, as he had known them? + </p> + <p> + “I didn't mean that,” he explained desperately. “My God—to feel you, + to have you in my arms—! I was sorry because I frightened you. But + when you came near me that way I just couldn't help it. You drove me to + it.” + </p> + <p> + “Drove you to it!” + </p> + <p> + “You don't understand, you don't know how—how wonderful you are. You + make me crazy. I love you, I want you as I've never wanted any woman + before—in a different way. I can't explain it. I've got so that I + can't live without you.” He flung his arm toward the lights of the mills. + “That—that used to be everything to me, I lived for it. I don't say + I've been a saint—but I never really cared anything about any woman + until I knew you, until that day I went through the office and saw you + what you were. You don't understand, I tell you. I'm sorry for what I did + to-day because it offended you—but you drove me to it. Most of the + time you seem cold, you're like an iceberg, you make me think you hate me, + and then all of a sudden you'll be kind, as you were the other night, as + you seemed this afternoon—you make me think I've got a chance, and + then, when you came near me, when you touched my hand—why, I didn't + know what I was doing. I just had to have you. A man like me can't stand + it.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I'd better go away,” she said. “I ought to have gone long ago.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” he cried. “Why? What's your reason? Why do you want to ruin my + life? You've—you've woven yourself into it—you're a part of + it. I never knew what it was to care for a woman before, I tell you. + There's that mill,” he repeated, naively. “I've made it the best mill in + the country, I've got the biggest order that ever came to any mill—if + you went away I wouldn't care a continental about it. If you went away I + wouldn't have any ambition left. Because you're a part of it, don't you + see? You—you sort of stand for it now, in my mind. I'm not literary, + I can't express what I'd like to say, but sometimes I used to think of + that mill as a woman—and now you've come along—” Ditmar + stopped, for lack of adequate eloquence. + </p> + <p> + She smiled in the darkness at his boyish fervour,—one of the aspects + of the successful Ditmar, the Ditmar of great affairs, that appealed to + her most strongly. She was softened, touched; she felt, too, a responsive + thrill to such a desire as his. Yet she did not reply. She could not. She + was learning that emotion is never simple. And some inhibition, the + identity of which was temporarily obscured still persisted, pervading her + consciousness.... + </p> + <p> + They were crossing the bridge at Stanley Street, now deserted, and by + common consent they paused in the middle of it, leaning on the rail. The + hideous chocolate factory on the point was concealed by the night,—only + the lights were there, trembling on the surface of the river. Against the + flushed sky above the city were silhouetted the high chimneys of the power + plant. Ditmar's shoulder touched hers. He was still pleading, but she + seemed rather to be listening to the symphony of the unseen waters falling + over the dam. His words were like that, suggestive of a torrent into which + she longed to fling herself, yet refrained, without knowing why. Her hands + tightened on the rail; suddenly she let it go, and led the way toward the + unfrequented district of the south side. It was the road to Silliston, but + she had forgotten that. Ditmar, regaining her side, continued his + pleading. He spoke of his loneliness, which he had never realized. He + needed her. And she experienced an answering pang. It still seemed + incredible that he, too, who had so much, should feel that gnawing need + for human sympathy and understanding that had so often made her unhappy. + And because of the response his need aroused in her she did not reflect + whether he could fulfil her own need, whether he could ever understand + her; whether, at any time, she could unreservedly pour herself out to him. + </p> + <p> + “I don't see why you want me,” she interrupted him at last. “I've never + had any advantages, I don't know anything. I've never had a chance to + learn. I've told you that before.” + </p> + <p> + “What difference does that make? You've got more sense than any woman I + ever saw,” he declared. + </p> + <p> + “It makes a great deal of difference to me,” she insisted—and the + sound of these words on her own lips was like a summons arousing her from + a dream. The sordidness of her life, its cruel lack of opportunity in + contrast with the gifts she felt to be hers, and on which he had dwelt, + was swept back into her mind. Self-pity, dignity, and inherent + self-respect struggled against her woman's desire to give; an inherited + racial pride whispered that she was worthy of the best, but because she + had lacked the chance, he refrained from offering her what he would have + laid at the feet of another woman. + </p> + <p> + “I'll give you advantages—there's nothing I wouldn't give you. Why + won't you come to me? I'll take care of you.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think I want to be taken care of?” She wheeled on him so swiftly + that he started back. “Is that what you think I want?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” he protested, when he recovered his speech. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think I'm after—what you can give me?” she shot at him. + “What you can buy for me?” + </p> + <p> + To tell the truth, he had not thought anything about it, that was the + trouble. And her question, instead of enlightening him, only added to his + confusion and bewilderment. + </p> + <p> + “I'm always getting in wrong with you,” he told her, pathetically. “There + isn't anything I'd stop at to make you happy, Janet, that's what I'm + trying to say. I'd go the limit.” + </p> + <p> + “Your limit!” she exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” he demanded. But she had become inarticulate—cryptic, + to him. He could get nothing more out of her. + </p> + <p> + “You don't understand me—you never will!” she cried, and burst into + tears—tears of rage she tried in vain to control. The world was + black with his ignorance. She hated herself, she hated him. Her sobs shook + her convulsively, and she scarcely heard him as he walked beside her along + the empty road, pleading and clumsily seeking to comfort her. Once or + twice she felt his hand on her shoulders.... And then, unlooked for and + unbidden, pity began to invade her. Absurd to pity him! She fought against + it, but the thought of Ditmar reduced to abjectness gained ground. After + all, he had tried to be generous, he had done his best, he loved her, he + needed her—the words rang in her heart. After all, he did not + realize how could she expect him to realize? and her imagination conjured + up the situation in a new perspective. Her sobs gradually ceased, and + presently she stopped in the middle of the road and regarded him. He + seemed utterly miserable, like a hurt child whom she longed to comfort. + But what she said was:—“I ought to be going home.” + </p> + <p> + “Not yet!” he begged. “It's early. You say I don't understand you, Janet—my + God, I wish I did! It breaks me all up to see you cry like that.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry,” she said, after a moment. “I—I can't make you + understand. I guess I'm not like anybody else I'm queer—I can't help + it. You must let me go, I only make you unhappy.” + </p> + <p> + “Let you go!” he cried—and then in utter self-forgetfulness she + yielded her lips to his. A sound penetrated the night, she drew back from + his arms and stood silhouetted against the glare of the approaching + headlight of a trolley car, and as it came roaring down on them she hailed + it. Ditmar seized her arm. + </p> + <p> + “You're not going—now?” he said hoarsely. + </p> + <p> + “I must,” she whispered. “I want to be alone—I want to think. You + must let me.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll see you to-morrow?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know—I want to think. I'm—I'm tired.” + </p> + <p> + The brakes screamed as the car came joltingly to a stop. She flew up the + steps, glancing around to see whether Ditmar had followed her, and saw him + still standing in the road. The car was empty of passengers, but the + conductor must have seen her leaving a man in this lonely spot. She + glanced at his face, white and pinched and apathetic—he must have + seen hundreds of similar episodes in the course of his nightly duties. He + was unmoved as he took her fare. Nevertheless, at the thought that these + other episodes might resemble hers, her face flamed—she grew hot all + over. What should she do now? She could not think. Confused with her shame + was the memory of a delirious joy, yet no sooner would she give herself + up, trembling, to this memory when in turn it was penetrated by qualms of + resentment, defiling its purity. Was Ditmar ashamed of her?... When she + reached home and had got into bed she wept a little, but her tears were + neither of joy nor sorrow. Her capacity for both was exhausted. In this + strange mood she fell asleep nor did she waken when, at midnight, Lise + stealthily crept in beside her. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X + </h2> + <p> + Ditmar stood staring after the trolley car that bore Janet away until it + became a tiny speck of light in the distance. Then he started to walk + toward Hampton; in the unwonted exercise was an outlet for the pent-up + energy her departure had thwarted; and presently his body was warm with a + physical heat that found its counterpart in a delicious, emotional glow of + anticipation, of exultant satisfaction. After all, he could not expect to + travel too fast with her. Had he not at least gained a signal victory? + When he remembered her lips—which she had indubitably given him!—he + increased his stride, and in what seemed an incredibly brief time he had + recrossed the bridge, covered the long residential blocks of Warren + Street, and gained his own door. + </p> + <p> + The house was quiet, the children having gone to bed, and he groped his + way through the dark parlour to his den, turning on the electric switch, + sinking into an armchair, and lighting a cigar. He liked this room of his, + which still retained something of that flavour of a refuge and sanctuary + it had so eminently possessed in the now forgotten days of matrimonial + conflict. One of the few elements of agreement he had held in common with + the late Mrs. Ditmar was a similarity of taste in household decoration, + and they had gone together to a great emporium in Boston to choose the + furniture and fittings. The lamp in the centre of the table was a bronze + column supporting a hemisphere of heavy red and emerald glass, the colours + woven into an intricate and bizarre design, after the manner of the art + nouveau—so the zealous salesman had informed them. Cora Ditmar, when + exhibiting this lamp to admiring visitors, had remembered the phrase, + though her pronunciation of it, according to the standard of the Sorbonne, + left something to be desired. The table and chairs, of heavy, shiny oak + marvellously and precisely carved by machines, matched the big panels of + the wainscot. The windows were high in the wall, thus preventing any + intrusion from the clothes-yard on which they looked. The bookcases, + protected by leaded panes, held countless volumes of the fiction from + which Cora Ditmar had derived her knowledge of the great world outside of + Hampton, together with certain sets she had bought, not only as ornaments, + but with a praiseworthy view to future culture,—such as Whitmarsh's + Library of the Best Literature. These volumes, alas, were still uncut; but + some of the pages of the novels—if one cared to open them—were + stained with chocolate. The steam radiator was a decoration in itself, the + fireplace set in the red and yellow tiles that made the hearth. Above the + oak mantel, in a gold frame, was a large coloured print of a Magdalen, + doubled up in grief, with a glory of loose, Titian hair, chosen by Ditmar + himself as expressing the nearest possible artistic representation of his + ideal of the female form. Cora Ditmar's objections on the score of + voluptuousness and of insufficient clothing had been vain. She had + recognized no immorality of sentimentality in the art itself; what she + felt, and with some justice, was that this particular Magdalen was + unrepentant, and that Ditmar knew it. And the picture remained an offence + to her as long as she lived. Formerly he had enjoyed the contemplation of + this figure, reminding him, as it did, of mellowed moments in conquests of + the past; suggesting also possibilities of the future. For he had been + quick to discount the attitude of bowed despair, the sop flung by a + sensuous artist to Christian orthodoxy. He had been sceptical about + despair—feminine despair, which could always be cured by gifts and + baubles. But to-night, as he raised his eyes, he felt a queer sensation + marring the ecstatic perfection of his mood. That quality in the picture + which so long had satisfied and entranced him had now become repellent, an + ugly significant reflection of something—something in himself he was + suddenly eager to repudiate and deny. It was with a certain amazement that + he found himself on his feet with the picture in his hand, gazing at the + empty space where it had hung. For he had had no apparent intention of + obeying that impulse. What should he do with it? Light the fire and burn + it—frame and all? The frame was an integral part of it. What would + his housekeeper say? But now that he had actually removed it from the wall + he could not replace it, so he opened the closet door and thrust it into a + corner among relics which had found refuge there. He had put his past in + the closet; yet the relief he felt was mingled with the peculiar qualm + that follows the discovery of symptoms never before remarked. Why should + this woman have this extraordinary effect of making him dissatisfied with + himself? He sat down again and tried to review the affair from that first + day when he had surprised in her eyes the flame dwelling in her. She had + completely upset his life, increasingly distracted his mind until now he + could imagine no peace unless he possessed her. Hitherto he had recognized + in his feeling for her nothing but that same desire he had had for other + women, intensified to a degree never before experienced. But this sudden + access of morality—he did not actually define it as such—was + disquieting. And in the feverish, semi-objective survey he was now making + of his emotional tract he was discovering the presence of other disturbing + symptoms such as an unwonted tenderness, a consideration almost amounting + to pity which at times he had vaguely sensed yet never sought + imaginatively to grasp. It bewildered him by hampering a ruthlessness + hitherto absolute. The fierceness of her inflamed his passion, yet he + recognized dimly behind this fierceness an instinct of self-protection—and + he thought of her in this moment as a struggling bird that fluttered out + of his hands when they were ready to close over her. So it had been + to-night. He might have kept her, prevented her from taking the car. Yet + he had let her go! There came again, utterly to blot this out, the memory + of her lips. + </p> + <p> + Even then, there had been something sorrowful in that kiss, a quality he + resented as troubling, a flavour that came to him after the wildness was + spent. What was she struggling against? What was behind her resistance? + She loved him! It had never before occurred to him to enter into the + nature of her feelings, having been so preoccupied with and tortured by + his own. This realization, that she loved him, as it persisted, began to + make him uneasy, though it should, according to all experience, have been + a reason for sheer exultation. He began to see that with her it involved + complications, responsibilities, disclosures, perhaps all of those things + he had formerly avoided and resented in woman. He thought of certain + friends of his who had become tangled up—of one in particular whose + bank account had been powerless to extricate him.... And he was ashamed of + himself. + </p> + <p> + In view of the nature of his sex experience, of his habit of applying his + imagination solely to matters of business rather than to affairs of the + heart,—if his previous episodes may be so designated,—his + failure to surmise that a wish for marriage might be at the back of her + resistance is not so surprising as it may seem; he laid down, half smoked, + his third cigar. The suspicion followed swiftly on his recalling to mind + her vehement repudiation of his proffered gifts did he think she wanted + what he could buy for her! She was not purchasable—that way. He + ought to have known it, he hadn't realized what he was saying. But + marriage! Literally it had never occurred to him to image her in a + relation he himself associated with shackles. One of the unconscious + causes of his fascination was just her emancipation from and innocence of + that herd-convention to which most women—even those who lack wedding + rings—are slaves. The force of such an appeal to a man of Ditmar's + type must not be underestimated. And the idea that she, too, might prefer + the sanction of the law, the gilded cage as a popular song which once had + taken his fancy illuminatingly expressed it—seemed utterly + incongruous with the freedom and daring of her spirit, was a sobering + shock. Was he prepared to marry her, if he could obtain her in no other + way? The question demanded a survey of his actual position of which he was + at the moment incapable. There were his children! He had never sought to + arrive at even an approximate estimate of the boy and girl as factors in + his life, to consider his feelings toward them; but now, though he + believed himself a man who gave no weight to social considerations—he + had scorned this tendency in his wife—he was to realize the presence + of ambitions for them. He was young, he was astonishingly successful; he + had reason to think, with his opportunities and the investments he already + had made, that he might some day be moderately rich; and he had at times + even imagined himself in later life as the possessor of one of those + elaborate country places to be glimpsed from the high roads in certain + localities, which the sophisticated are able to recognize as the seats of + the socially ineligible, but which to Ditmar were outward and visible + emblems of success. He liked to think of George as the inheritor of such a + place, as the son of a millionaire, as a “college graduate,” as an + influential man of affairs; he liked to imagine Amy as the wife of such + another. In short, Ditmar's wife had left him, as an unconscious legacy, + her aspirations for their children's social prestige.... + </p> + <p> + The polished oak grandfather's clock in the hall had struck one before he + went to bed, mentally wearied by an unwonted problem involving, in + addition to self-interest, an element of ethics, of affection not wholly + compounded of desire. + </p> + <p> + He slept soundly, however. He was one of those fortunate beings who come + into the world with digestive organs and thyroid glands in that condition + which—so physiologists tell us—makes for a sanguine + temperament. And his course of action, though not decided upon, no longer + appeared as a problem; it differed from a business matter in that it could + wait. As sufficient proof of his liver having rescued him from doubts and + qualms he was able to whistle, as he dressed, and without a tremor of + agitation, the forgotten tune suggested to his consciousness during the + unpleasant reverie of the night before,—“Only a Bird in a Gilded + Cage!” It was Saturday. He ate a hearty breakfast, joked with George and + Amy, and refreshed, glowing with an expectation mingled with just the + right amount of delightful uncertainty that made the great affairs of life + a gamble, yet with the confidence of the conqueror, he walked in sunlight + to the mill. In view of this firm and hopeful tone of his being he found + it all the more surprising, as he reached the canal, to be seized by a + trepidation strong enough to bring perspiration to his forehead. What if + she had gone! He had never thought of that, and he had to admit it would + be just like her. You never could tell what she would do. + </p> + <p> + Nodding at Simmons, the watchman, he hurried up the iron-shod stairs, + gained the outer once, and instantly perceived that her chair beside the + window was empty! Caldwell and Mr. Price stood with their heads together + bending over a sheet on which Mr. Price was making calculations. + </p> + <p> + “Hasn't Miss Bumpus come yet?” Ditmar demanded. He tried to speak + naturally, casually, but his own voice sounded strange, seemed to strike + the exact note of sickening apprehension that suddenly possessed him. Both + men turned and looked at him in some surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Good-morning, Mr. Ditmar,” Caldwell said. “Why, yes, she's in your room.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” said Ditmar. + </p> + <p> + “The Boston office has just been calling you—they want to know if + you can't take the nine twenty-two,” Caldwell went on. “It's about that + lawsuit. It comes into court Monday morning, and Mr. Sprole is there, and + they say they have to see you. Miss Bumpus has the memorandum.” + </p> + <p> + Ditmar looked at his watch. + </p> + <p> + “Damn it, why didn't they let me know yesterday?” he exclaimed. “I won't + see anybody, Caldwell—not even Orcutt—just now. You + understand. I've got to have a little time to do some letters. I won't be + disturbed—by any one—for half an hour.” + </p> + <p> + Caldwell nodded. + </p> + <p> + “All right, Mr. Ditmar.” + </p> + <p> + Ditmar went into his office, closing the door behind him. She was occupied + as usual, cutting open the letters and laying them in a pile with the + deftness and rapidity that characterized all she did. + </p> + <p> + “Janet!” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “There's a message for you from Boston. I've made a note of it,” she + replied. + </p> + <p> + “I know—Caldwell told me. But I wanted to see you before I went—I + had to see you. I sat up half the night thinking of you, I woke up + thinking of you. Aren't you glad to see me?” + </p> + <p> + She dropped the letter opener and stood silent, motionless, awaiting his + approach—a pose so eloquent of the sense of fatality strong in her + as to strike him with apprehension, unused though he was to the appraisal + of inner values. He read, darkly, something of this mystery in her eyes as + they were slowly raised to his, he felt afraid; he was swept again by + those unwonted emotions of pity and tenderness—but when she turned + away her head and he saw the bright spot of colour growing in her cheek, + spreading to her temple, suffusing her throat, when he touched the soft + contour of her arm, his passion conquered.... Still he was acutely + conscious of a resistance within her—not as before, physically + directed against him, but repudiating her own desire. She became limp in + his arms, though making no attempt to escape, and he knew that the + essential self of her he craved still evaded and defied him. And he clung + to her the more desperately—as though by crushing her peradventure + he might capture it. + </p> + <p> + “You're hurting me,” she said at last, and he let her go, standing by + helplessly while she went through the movements of readjustment + instinctive to women. Even in these he read the existence of the + reservation he was loth to acknowledge. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you love me?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know.” + </p> + <p> + “You do!” he said. “You—you proved it—I know it.” + </p> + <p> + She went a little away from him, picking up the paper cutter, but it lay + idle in her hand. + </p> + <p> + “For God's sake, tell me what's the matter!” he exclaimed. “I can't stand + this. Janet, aren't you happy?” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “Why not? I love you. I—I've never been so happy in my life as I was + this morning. Why aren't you happy—when we love each other?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I'm not.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not? There's nothing I wouldn't do to make you happy—you know + that. Tell me!” + </p> + <p> + “You wouldn't understand. I couldn't make you understand.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it something I've done?” + </p> + <p> + “You don't love me,” she said. “You only want me. I'm not made that way, + I'm not generous enough, I guess. I've got to have work to do.” + </p> + <p> + “Work to do! But you'll share my work—it's nothing without you.” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. “I knew you couldn't understand. You don't realize how + impossible it is. I don't blame you—I suppose a man can't.” + </p> + <p> + She was not upbraiding him, she spoke quietly, in a tone almost lifeless, + yet the emotional effect of it was tremendous. + </p> + <p> + “But,” he began, and stopped, and was swept on again by an impulse that + drowned all caution, all reason. “But you can help me—when we are + married.” + </p> + <p> + “Married!” she repeated. “You want to marry me?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes—I need you.” He took her hands, he felt them tremble in + his, her breath came quickly, but her gaze was so intent as seemingly to + penetrate to the depths of him. And despite his man's amazement at her + hesitation now that he had offered her his all, he was moved, disturbed, + ashamed as he had never been in his life. At length, when he could stand + no longer the suspense of this inquisition, he stammered out: “I want you + to be my wife.” + </p> + <p> + “You've wanted to marry me all along?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't think, Janet. I was mad about you. I didn't know you.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know me now?” + </p> + <p> + “That's just it,” he cried, with a flash of clairvoyance, “I never will + know you—it's what makes you different from any woman I've ever + seen. You'll marry me?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid,” she said. “Oh, I've thought over it, and you haven't. A + woman has to think, a man doesn't, so much. And now you're willing to + marry me, if you can't get me any other way.” Her hand touched his coat, + checking his protest. “It isn't that I want marriage—what you can + give me—I'm not like that, I've told you so before. But I couldn't + live as your—mistress.” + </p> + <p> + The word on her lips shocked him a little—but her courage and + candour thrilled him. + </p> + <p> + “If I stayed here, it would be found out. I wouldn't let you keep me. I'd + have to have work, you see, or I'd lose my self-respect—it's all + I've got—I'd kill myself.” She spoke as calmly as though she were + reviewing the situation objectively. “And then, I've thought that you + might come to believe you really wanted to marry me—you wouldn't + realize what you were doing, or what might happen if we were married. I've + tried to tell you that, too, only you didn't seem to understand what I was + saying. My father's only a gatekeeper, we're poor—poorer than some + of the operatives in the mill, and the people you know here in Hampton + wouldn't understand. Perhaps you think you wouldn't care, but—” she + spoke with more effort, “there are your children. When I've thought of + them, it all seems impossible. I'd make you unhappy—I couldn't bear + it, I wouldn't stay with you. You see, I ought to have gone away long + ago.” + </p> + <p> + Believing, as he did, that marriage was the goal of all women, even of the + best, the immediate capitulation he had expected would have made matters + far less difficult. But these scruples of hers, so startlingly his own, + her disquieting insight into his entire mental process had a momentary + checking effect, summoned up the vague presage of a future that might + become extremely troublesome and complicated. His very reluctance to + discuss with her the problem she had raised warned him that he had been + swept into deep waters. On the other hand, her splendid resistance + appealed to him, enhanced her value. And accustomed as he had been to a + lifelong self-gratification, the thought of being balked in this supreme + desire was not to be borne. Such were the shades of his feeling as he + listened to her. + </p> + <p> + “That's nonsense!” he exclaimed, when she had finished. “You're a lady—I + know all about your family, I remember hearing about it when your father + came here—it's as good as any in New England. What do you suppose I + care, Janet? We love each other—I've got to have you. We'll be + married in the spring, when the rush is over.” + </p> + <p> + He drew her to him once more, and suddenly, in the ardour of that embrace, + he felt her tenseness suddenly relax—as though, against her will—and + her passion, as she gave her lips, vied with his own. Her lithe body + trembled convulsively, her cheeks were wet as she clung to him and hid her + face in his shoulder. His sensations in the presence of this thing he had + summoned up in her were incomprehensible, surpassing any he had ever + known. It was no longer a woman he held in his arms, the woman he craved, + but something greater, more fearful, the mystery of sorrow and suffering, + of creation and life—of the universe itself. + </p> + <p> + “Janet—aren't you happy?” he said again. + </p> + <p> + She released herself and smiled at him wistfully through her tears. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. What I feel doesn't seem like happiness. I can't believe in + it, somehow.” + </p> + <p> + “You must believe in it,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I can't,—perhaps I may, later. You'd better go now,” she begged. + “You'll miss your train.” + </p> + <p> + He glanced at the office clock. “Confound it, I have to. Listen! I'll be + back this evening, and I'll get that little car of mine—” + </p> + <p> + “No, not to-night—I don't want to go—to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “Not to-night,” she repeated. + </p> + <p> + “Well then, to-morrow. To-morrow's Sunday. Do you know where the Boat Club + is on the River Boulevard? I'll be there, to-morrow morning at ten. I'd + come for you, to your house,” he added quickly, “but we don't want any one + to know, yet—do we?” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “We must keep it secret for a while,” he said. “Wear your new dress—the + blue one. Good-bye—sweetheart.” + </p> + <p> + He kissed her again and hurried out of the office.... Boarding the train + just as it was about to start, he settled himself in the back seat of the + smoker, lit a cigar, inhaling deep breaths of the smoke and scarcely + noticing an acquaintance who greeted him from the aisle. Well, he had done + it! He was amazed. He had not intended to propose marriage, and when he + tried to review the circumstances that had led to this he became confused. + But when he asked himself whether indeed he were willing to pay such a + price, to face the revolution marriage—and this marriage in + particular—would mean in his life, the tumult in his blood beat down + his incipient anxieties. Besides, he possessed the kind of mind able to + throw off the consideration of possible consequences, and by the time the + train had slowed down in the darkness of the North Station in Boston all + traces of worry had disappeared. The future would take care of itself. + </p> + <p> + For the Bumpus family, supper that evening was an unusually harmonious + meal. Hannah's satisfaction over the new stove had by no means subsided, + and Edward ventured, without reproof, to praise the restored quality of + the pie crust. And in contrast to her usual moroseness and + self-absorption, even Lise was gay—largely because her pet aversion, + the dignified and allegedly amorous Mr. Waiters, floor-walker at the + Bagatelle, had fallen down the length of the narrow stairway leading from + the cashier's cage. She became almost hysterical with glee as she pictured + him lying prone beneath the counter dedicated to lingerie, draped with + various garments from the pile that toppled over on him. “Ruby Nash picked + a brassiere off his whiskers!” Lise shrieked. “She gave the pile a shove + when he landed. He's got her number all right. But say, it was worth the + price of admission to see that old mutt when he got up, he looked like + Santa Claus. All the girls in the floor were there we nearly split trying + to keep from giving him the ha-ha. And Ruby says, sympathetic, as she + brushed him off, 'I hope you ain't hurt, Mr. Waiters.' He was sore! He + went around all afternoon with a bunch on his coco as big as a potato.” So + vivid was Lise's account of this affair which apparently she regarded as + compensation for many days of drudgery-that even Hannah laughed, though + deploring a choice of language symbolic of a world she feared and + detested. + </p> + <p> + “If I talked like you,” said Lise, “they wouldn't understand me.” + </p> + <p> + Janet, too, was momentarily amused, drawn out of that reverie in which she + had dwelt all day, ever since Ditmar had left for Boston. Now she began to + wonder what would happen if she were suddenly to announce “I'm going to + marry Mr. Ditmar.” After the first shock of amazement, she could imagine + her father's complete and complacent acceptance of the news as a + vindication of an inherent quality in the Bumpus blood. He would begin to + talk about the family. For, despite what might have been deemed a somewhat + disillusionizing experience, in the depths of his being he still believed + in the Providence who had presided over the perilous voyage of the + Mayflower and the birth of Peregrine White, whose omniscient mind was + peculiarly concerned with the family trees of Puritans. And what could be + a more striking proof of the existence of this Providence, or a more + fitting acknowledgment on his part of the Bumpus virtues, than that Janet + should become the wife of the agent of the Chippering Mills? Janet smiled. + She was amused, too, by the thought that Lise's envy would be modified by + the prospect of a heightened social status; since Lise, it will be + remembered, had her Providence likewise. Hannah's god was not a + Providence, but one deeply skilled in persecution, in ingenious methods of + torture; one who would not hesitate to dangle baubles before the eyes of + his children—only to snatch them away again. Hannah's pessimism + would persist as far as the altar, and beyond! + </p> + <p> + On the whole, such was Janet's notion of the Deity, though deep within her + there may have existed a hope that he might be outwitted; that, by dint of + energy and brains, the fair things of life might be obtained despite a + malicious opposition. And she loved Ditmar. This must be love she felt, + this impatience to see him again, this desire to be with him, this + agitation possessing her so utterly that all day long she had dwelt in an + unwonted state like a somnambulism: it must be love, though not resembling + in the least the generally accepted, virginal ideal. She saw him as he + was, crude, powerful, relentless in his desire; his very faults appealed. + His passion had overcome his prudence, he had not intended to propose, but + any shame she felt on this score was put to flight by a fierce exultation + over the fact that she had brought him to her feet, that he wanted her + enough to marry her. It was wonderful to be wanted like that! But she + could not achieve the mental picture of herself as Ditmar's wife—especially + when, later in the evening, she walked up Warren Street and stood gazing + at his house from the opposite pavement. She simply could not imagine + herself living in that house as its mistress. Notwithstanding the + testimony of the movies, such a Cinderella-like transition was not within + the realm of probable facts; things just didn't happen that way. + </p> + <p> + She recalled the awed exclamation of Eda when they had walked together + along Warren Street on that evening in summer: “How would you like to live + there!”—and hot with sudden embarrassment and resentment she had + dragged her friend onward, to the corner. In spite of its size, of the + spaciousness of existence it suggested, the house had not appealed to her + then. Janet did not herself realize or estimate the innate if undeveloped + sense of form she possessed, the artist-instinct that made her breathless + on first beholding Silliston Common. And then the vision of Silliston had + still been bright; but now the light of a slender moon was as a gossamer + silver veil through which she beheld the house, as in a stage setting, + softening and obscuring its lines, lending it qualities of dignity and + glamour that made it seem remote, unreal, unattainable. And she felt a + sudden, overwhelming longing, as though her breast would burst.... + </p> + <p> + Through the drawn blinds the lights in the second storey gleamed yellow. A + dim lamp burned in the deep vestibule, as in a sanctuary. And then, as + though some supernaturally penetrating ray had pierced a square hole in + the lower walls, a glimpse of the interior was revealed to her, of the + living room at the north end of the house. Two figures chased one another + around the centre table—Ditmar's children! Was Ditmar there? + Impelled irresistibly by a curiosity overcoming repugnance and fear, she + went forward slowly across the street, gained the farther pavement, + stepped over the concrete coping, and stood, shivering violently, on the + lawn, feeling like an interloper and a thief, yet held by morbid + fascination. The children continued to romp. The boy was strong and swift, + the girl stout and ungainly in her movements, not mistress of her body; he + caught her and twisted her arm, roughly—Janet could hear her cries + through the window-=when an elderly woman entered, seized him, struggling + with him. He put out his tongue at her, but presently released his sister, + who stood rubbing her arm, her lips moving in evident recrimination and + complaint. The faces of the two were plain now; the boy resembled Ditmar, + but the features of the girl, heavy and stamped with self-indulgence, were + evidently reminiscent of the woman who had been his wife. Then the shade + was pulled down, abruptly; and Janet, overcome by a sense of horror at her + position, took to flight.... + </p> + <p> + When, after covering the space of a block she slowed down and tried to + imagine herself as established in that house, the stepmother of those + children, she found it impossible. Despite the fact that her attention had + been focussed so strongly on them, the fringe of her vision had included + their surroundings, the costly furniture, the piano against the farther + wall, the music rack. Evidently the girl was learning to play. She felt a + renewed, intenser bitterness against her own lot: she was aware of + something within her better and finer than the girl, than the woman who + had been her mother had possessed—that in her, Janet, had lacked the + advantages of development. Could it—could it ever be developed now? + Had this love which had come to her brought her any nearer to the unknown + realm of light she craved?... + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI + </h2> + <p> + Though December had come, Sunday was like an April day before whose + sunlight the night-mists of scruples and morbid fears were scattered and + dispersed. And Janet, as she fared forth from the Fillmore Street flat, + felt resurging in her the divine recklessness that is the very sap of + life. The future, save of the immediate hours to come, lost its power over + her. The blue and white beauty of the sky proclaimed all things possible + for the strong; and the air was vibrant with the sweet music of bells, + calling her to happiness. She was going to meet happiness, to meet love—to + meet Ditmar! The trolley which she took in Faber Street, though lagging in + its mission, seemed an agent of that happiness as it left the city behind + it and wound along the heights beside the tarvia roadway above the river, + bright glimpses of which she caught through the openings in the woods. And + when she looked out of the window on her right she beheld on a little + forested rise a succession of tiny “camps” built by residents of Hampton + whose modest incomes could not afford more elaborate summer places; camps + of all descriptions and colours, with queer names that made her smile: + “The Cranny,” “The Nook,” “Snug Harbour,” “Buena Vista,”—of course,—which + she thought pretty, though she did not know its meaning; and another, in + German, equally perplexing, “Klein aber Mein.” Though the windows of these + places were now boarded up, though the mosquito netting still clung rather + dismally to the porches, they were mutely suggestive of contentment and + domestic joy. + </p> + <p> + Scarcely had she alighted from the car at the rendezvous he had mentioned, + beside the now deserted boathouse where in the warm weather the members of + the Hampton Rowing Club disported themselves, when she saw an automobile + approaching—and recognized it as the gay “roadster” Ditmar had + exhibited to her that summer afternoon by the canal; and immediately + Ditmar himself, bringing it to a stop and leaping from it, stood before + her in the sunlight, radiating, as it seemed, more sunlight still. With + his clipped, blond moustache and his straw-coloured hair—as yet but + slightly grey at the temples—he looked a veritable conquering + berserker in his huge coat of golden fur. Never had he appeared to better + advantage. + </p> + <p> + “I was waiting for you,” he said, “I saw you in the car.” Turning to the + automobile, he stripped the tissue paper from a cluster of dark red roses + with the priceless long stems of which Lise used to rave when she worked + in the flower store. And he held the flowers against her suit her new suit + she had worn for this meeting. + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” she cried, taking a deep, intoxicating breath of their fragrance. + “You brought these—for me?” + </p> + <p> + “From Boston—my beauty!” + </p> + <p> + “But I can't wear all of them!” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” he demanded. “Haven't you a pin?” + </p> + <p> + She produced one, attaching them with a gesture that seemed habitual, + though the thought of their value-revealing in some degree her own worth + in his eyes-unnerved her. She was warmly conscious of his gaze. Then he + turned, and opening a compartment at the back of the car drew from it a + bright tweed motor coat warmly lined. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no!” she protested, drawing back. “I'll—I'll be warm enough.” + But laughingly, triumphantly, he seized her and thrust her arms in the + sleeves, his fingers pressing against her. Overcome by shyness, she drew + away from him. + </p> + <p> + “I made a pretty good guess at the size—didn't I, Janet?” he cried, + delightedly surveying her. “I couldn't forget it!” His glance grew more + concentrated, warmer, penetrating. + </p> + <p> + “You mustn't look at me like that!” she pleaded with lowered eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Why not—you're mine—aren't you? You're mine, now.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. There are lots of things I want to talk about,” she + replied, but her protest sounded feeble, unconvincing, even to herself. He + fairly lifted her into the automobile—it was a caress, only tempered + by the semi-publicity of the place. He was giving her no time to think—but + she did not want to, think. Starting the engine, he got in and leaned + toward her. + </p> + <p> + “Not here!” she exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “All right—I'll wait,” he agreed, tucking the robe about her deftly, + solicitously, and she sank back against the seat, surrendering herself to + the luxury, the wonder of being cherished, the caressing and sheltering + warmth she felt of security and love, the sense of emancipation from + discontent and sordidness and struggle. For a moment she closed her eyes, + but opened them again to behold the transformed image of herself reflected + in the windshield to confirm the illusion—if indeed it were one! The + tweed coat seemed startlingly white in the sunlight, and the woman she + saw, yet recognized as herself, was one of the fortunately placed of the + earth with power and beauty at her command! And she could no longer + imagine herself as the same person who the night before had stood in front + of the house in Warren Street. The car was speeding over the smooth + surface of the boulevard; the swift motion, which seemed to her like that + of flying, the sparkling air, the brightness of the day, the pressure of + Ditmar's shoulder against hers, thrilled her. She marvelled at his sure + command over the machine, that responded like a live thing to his touch. + On the wide, straight stretches it went at a mad pace that took her + breath, and again, in turning a corner or passing another car, it slowed + down, purring in meek obedience. Once she gasped: “Not so fast! I can't + stand it.” + </p> + <p> + He laughed and obeyed her. They glided between river and sky across the + delicate fabric of a bridge which but a moment before she had seen in the + distance. Running through the little village on the farther bank, they + left the river. + </p> + <p> + “Where are you going?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, for a little spin,” he answered indulgently, turning into a side road + that wound through the woods and suddenly stopping. “Janet, we've got this + day—this whole day to ourselves.” He seized and drew her to him, and + she yielded dizzily, repaying the passion of his kiss, forgetful of past + and future while he held her, whispering brokenly endearing phrases. + </p> + <p> + “You'll ruin my roses,” she protested breathlessly, at last, when it + seemed that she could no longer bear this embrace, nor the pressure of his + lips. “There! you see you're crushing them!” She undid them, and buttoning + the coat, held them to her face. Their odour made her faint: her eyes were + clouded. + </p> + <p> + “Listen, Claude!” she said at last,—it was the first time she had + called him so—getting free. “You must be sensible! some one might + come along.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll never get enough of you!” he said. “I can't believe it yet.” And + added irrelevantly: “Pin the roses outside.” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. Something in her protested against this too public + advertisement of their love. + </p> + <p> + “I'd rather hold them,” she answered. “Let's go on.” He started the car + again. “Listen, I want to talk to you, seriously. I've been thinking.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't I know you've been thinking!” he told her exuberantly. “If I could + only find out what's always going on in that little head of yours! If you + keep on thinking you'll dry up, like a New England school-marm. And now do + you know what you are? One of those dusky red roses just ready to bloom. + Some day I'll buy enough to smother you in 'em.” + </p> + <p> + “Listen!” she repeated, making a great effort to calm herself, to regain + something of that frame of mind in which their love had assumed the + proportions of folly and madness, to summon up the scruples which, before + she had left home that morning, she had resolved to lay before him, which + she knew would return when she could be alone again. “I have to think—you + won't,” she exclaimed, with a fleeting smile. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what is it?” he assented. “You might as well get it off now.” + </p> + <p> + And it took all her strength to say: “I don't see how I can marry you. + I've told you the reasons. You're rich, and you have friends who wouldn't + understand—and your children—they wouldn't understand. I—I'm + nothing, I know it isn't right, I know you wouldn't be happy. I've never + lived—in the kind of house you live in and known the kind of people + you know, I shouldn't know what to do.” + </p> + <p> + He took his eyes off the road and glanced down at her curiously. His smile + was self-confident, exultant. + </p> + <p> + “Now do you feel better—you little Puritan?” he said. + </p> + <p> + And perforce she smiled in return, a pucker appearing between her + eyebrows. + </p> + <p> + “I mean it,” she said. “I came out to tell you so. I know—it just + isn't possible.” + </p> + <p> + “I'd marry you to-day if I could get a license,” he declared. “Why, you're + worth any woman in America, I don't care who she is, or how much money she + has.” + </p> + <p> + In spite of herself she was absurdly pleased. + </p> + <p> + “Now that is over, we won't discuss it again, do you understand? I've got + you,” he said, “and I mean to hold on to you.” + </p> + <p> + She sighed. He was driving slowly now along the sandy road, and with his + hand on hers she simply could not think. The spell of his nearness, of his + touch, which all nature that morning conspired to deepen, was too powerful + to be broken, and something was calling to her, “Take this day, take this + day,” drowning out the other voice demanding an accounting. She was living—what + did it all matter? She yielded herself to the witchery of the hour, the + sheer delight of forthfaring into the unknown. + </p> + <p> + They turned away from the river, crossing the hills of a rolling country + now open, now wooded, passing white farmhouses and red barns, and ancient, + weather-beaten dwellings with hipped roofs and “lean-tos” which had been + there in colonial days when the road was a bridle-path. Cows and horses + stood gazing at them from warm paddocks, where the rich, black mud + glistened, melted by the sun; chickens scratched and clucked in the + barnyards or flew frantically across the road, sometimes within an ace of + destruction. Janet flinched, but Ditmar would laugh, gleefully, boyishly. + </p> + <p> + “We nearly got that one!” he would exclaim. And then he had to assure her + that he wouldn't run over them. + </p> + <p> + “I haven't run over one yet,—have I?” he would demand. + </p> + <p> + “No, but you will, it's only luck.” + </p> + <p> + “Luck!” he cried derisively. “Skill! I wish I had a dollar for every one I + got when I was learning to drive. There was a farmer over here in Chester—” + and he proceeded to relate how he had had to pay for two turkeys. “He got + my number, the old hayseed, he was laying for me, and the next time I went + back that way he held me up for five dollars. I can remember the time when + a man in a motor was an easy mark for every reuben in the county. They got + rich on us.” + </p> + <p> + She responded to his mood, which was wholly irresponsible, exuberant, and + they laughed together like children, every little incident assuming an + aspect irresistibly humorous. Once he stopped to ask an old man standing + in his dooryard how far it was to Kingsbury. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, mebbe it's two mile, they mostly call it two,” said the patriarch, + after due reflection, gathering his beard in his band. “Mebbe it's more.” + His upper lip was blue, shaven, prehensile. + </p> + <p> + “What did you ask him for, when you know?” said Janet, mirthfully, when + they had gone on, and Ditmar was imitating him. Ditmar's reply was to wink + at her. Presently they saw another figure on the road. + </p> + <p> + “Let's see what he'll say,” Ditmar proposed. This man was young, the + colour of mahogany, with glistening black hair and glistening black eyes + that regarded the too palpable joyousness of their holiday humour in mute + surprise. + </p> + <p> + “I no know—stranger,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “No speaka Portugueso?” inquired Ditmar, gravely. + </p> + <p> + “The country is getting filthy with foreigners,” he observed, when he had + started the car. “I went down to Plymouth last summer to see the old rock, + and by George, it seemed as if there wasn't anybody could speak American + on the whole cape. All the Portuguese islands are dumped there—cranberry + pickers, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't know that,” said Janet. + </p> + <p> + “Sure thing!” he exclaimed. “And when I got there, what do you think? + there was hardly enough of the old stone left to stand on, and that had a + fence around it like an exhibit in an exposition. It had all been chipped + away by souvenir hunters.” + </p> + <p> + She gazed at him incredulously. + </p> + <p> + “You don't believe me! I'll take you down there sometime. And another + thing, the rock's high and dry—up on the land. I said to Charlie + Crane, who was with me, that it must have been a peach of a jump for old + Miles Standish and Priscilla what's her name.” + </p> + <p> + “How I'd love to see the ocean again!” Janet exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Why, I'll take you—as often as you like,” he promised. “We'll go + out on it in summer, up to Maine, or down to the Cape.” + </p> + <p> + Her enchantment was now so great that nothing seemed impossible. + </p> + <p> + “And we'll go down to Plymouth, too, some Sunday soon, if this weather + keeps up. If we start early enough we can get there for lunch, easy. We'll + see the rock. I guess some of your ancestors must have come over with that + Mayflower outfit—first cabin, eh? You look like it.” + </p> + <p> + Janet laughed. “It's a joke on them, if they did. I wonder what they'd + think of Hampton, if they could see it now. I counted up once, just to + tease father—he's the seventh generation from Ebenezer Bumpus, who + came to Dolton. Well, I proved to him he might have one hundred and + twenty-six other ancestors besides Ebenezer and his wife.” + </p> + <p> + “That must have jarred him some,” was Ditmar's comment. “Great old man, + your father. I've talked to him—he's a regular historical society + all by himself. Well, there must be something in it, this family business. + Now, you can tell he comes from fine old American stock-he looks it.” + </p> + <p> + Janet flushed. “A lot of good it does!” she exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” said Ditmar. “It's something to fall back on—a good + deal. And he hasn't got any of that nonsense in his head about labour + unions—he's a straight American. And you look the part,” he added. + “You remind me—I never thought of it until now—you remind me + of a picture of Priscilla I saw once in a book of poems Longfellow's, you + know. I'm not much on literature, but I remember that, and I remember + thinking she could have me. Funny isn't it, that you should have come + along? But you've got more ginger than the woman in that picture. I'm the + only man that ever guessed it isn't that so?” he asked jealously. + </p> + <p> + “You're wonderful!” retorted Janet, daringly. + </p> + <p> + “You just bet I am, or I couldn't have landed you,” he asserted. “You're + chock full of ginger, but it's been all corked up. You're so prim-so + Priscilla.” He was immensely pleased with the adjective he had coined, + repeating it. “It's a great combination. When I think of it, I want to + shake you, to squeeze you until you scream.” + </p> + <p> + “Then please don't think of it,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “That's easy!” he exclaimed, mockingly. + </p> + <p> + At a quarter to one they entered a sleepy village reminiscent of a New + England of other days. The long street, deeply shaded in summer, was + bordered by decorous homes, some of which had stood there for a century + and a half; others were of the Mansard period. The high school, of + strawberry-coloured brick, had been the pride and glory of the Kingsbury + of the '70s: there were many churches, some graceful and some hideous. At + the end of the street they came upon a common, surrounded by stone posts + and a railing, with a monument in the middle of it, and facing the common + on the north side was a rambling edifice with many white gables, in front + of which, from an iron arm on a post, swung a quaint sign, “Kingsbury + Tavern.” In revolutionary and coaching days the place bad been a famous + inn; and now, thanks to the enterprise of a man who had foreseen the + possibilities of an era of automobiles, it had become even more famous. A + score of these modern vehicles were drawn up before it under the bare, + ancient elms; there was a scene of animation on the long porch, where + guests strolled up and down or sat in groups in the rocking-chairs which + the mild weather had brought forth again. Ditmar drew up in line with the + other motors, and stopped. + </p> + <p> + “Well, here we are!” he exclaimed, as he pulled off his gauntlets. “I + guess I could get along with something to eat. How about you? They treat + you as well here as any place I know of in New England.” + </p> + <p> + He assumed their lunching together at a public place as a matter of course + to which there could not possibly be an objection, springing out of the + car, removing the laprobe from her knees, and helping her to alight. She + laid the roses on the seat. + </p> + <p> + “Aren't you going to bring them along?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “I'd rather not,” she said. “Don't you think they'll be safe here?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I guess so,” he replied. She was always surprising him; but her + solicitation concerning them was a balm, and he found all such instinctive + acts refreshing. + </p> + <p> + “Afraid of putting up too much of a front, are you?” he asked smilingly. + </p> + <p> + “I'd rather leave them here,” she replied. As she walked beside Ditmar to + the door she was excited, unwontedly self-conscious, painfully aware of + inspection by the groups on the porch. She had seen such people as these + hurrying in automobiles through the ugliness of Faber Street in Hampton + toward just such delectable spots as this village of Kingsbury—people + of that world of freedom and privilege from which she was excluded; + Ditmar's world. He was at home here. But she? The delusion that she + somehow had been miraculously snatched up into it was marred by their + glances. What were they thinking of her? Her face was hot as she passed + them and entered the hall, where more people were gathered. But Ditmar's + complacency, his ease and self-confidence, his manner of owning the place, + as it were, somewhat reassured her. He went up to the desk, behind which, + stood a burly, red-complexioned man who greeted him effusively, yet with + the air of respect accorded the powerful. + </p> + <p> + “Hullo, Eddie,” said Ditmar. “You've got a good crowd here to-day. Any + room for me?” + </p> + <p> + “Sure, Mr. Ditmar, we can always make room for you. Well, I haven't laid + eyes on you for a dog's age. Only last Sunday Mr. Crane was here, and I + was asking him where you'd been keeping yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, I've been busy, Eddie. I've landed the biggest order ever heard of + in Hampton. Some of us have to work, you know; all you've got to do is to + loaf around this place and smoke cigars and rake in the money.” + </p> + <p> + The proprietor of the Kingsbury Tavern smiled indulgently at this + persiflage. + </p> + <p> + “Let me present you to Miss Bumpus,” said Ditmar. “This is my friend, + Eddie Hale,” he added, for Janet's benefit. “And when you've eaten his + dinner you'll believe me when I say he's got all the other hotel men + beaten a mile.” + </p> + <p> + Janet smiled and flushed. She had been aware of Mr. Hale's discreet + glance. + </p> + <p> + “Pleased to meet you, Miss Bumpus,” he said, with a somewhat elaborate + bow. + </p> + <p> + “Eddie,” said Ditmar, “have you got a nice little table for us?” + </p> + <p> + “It's a pity I didn't know you was coming, but I'll do my best,” declared + Mr. Hale, opening the door in the counter. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I guess you can fix us all right, if you want to, Eddie.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Ditmar's a great josher,” Mr. Hale told Janet confidentially as he + escorted them into the dining-room. And Ditmar, gazing around over the + heads of the diners, spied in an alcove by a window a little table with + tilted chairs. + </p> + <p> + “That one'll do,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry, but it's engaged,” apologized Mr. Hale. + </p> + <p> + “Forget it, Eddie—tell 'em they're late,” said Ditmar, making his + way toward it. + </p> + <p> + The proprietor pulled out Janet's chair. + </p> + <p> + “Say,” he remarked, “it's no wonder you get along in business.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, this is cosy, isn't it?” said Ditmar to Janet when they were alone. + He handed her the menu, and snapped his fingers for a waitress. + </p> + <p> + “Why didn't you tell me you were coming to this place?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “I wanted to surprise you. Don't you like it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she replied. “Only—” + </p> + <p> + “Only, what?” + </p> + <p> + “I wish you wouldn't look at me like that—here.” + </p> + <p> + “All right. I'll try to be good until we get into the car again. You watch + me! I'll behave as if we'd been married ten years.” + </p> + <p> + He snapped his fingers again, and the waitress hurried up to take their + orders. + </p> + <p> + “Kingsbury's still dry, I guess,” he said to the girl, who smiled + sympathetically, somewhat ruefully. When she had gone he began to talk to + Janet about the folly, in general, of prohibition, the fuse oil + distributed on the sly. “I'll bet I could go out and find half a dozen rum + shops within a mile of here!” he declared. + </p> + <p> + Janet did not doubt it. Ditmar's aplomb, his faculty of getting what he + wanted, had amused and distracted her. She was growing calmer, able to + scrutinize, at first covertly and then more boldly the people at the other + tables, only to discover that she and Ditmar were not the objects of the + universal curiosity she had feared. Once in a while, indeed, she + encountered and then avoided the glance of some man, felt the admiration + in it, was thrilled a little, and her sense of exhilaration returned as + she regained her poise. She must be nice looking—more than that—in + her new suit. On entering the tavern she had taken off the tweed coat, + which Ditmar had carried and laid on a chair. This new and amazing + adventure began to go to her head like wine.... + </p> + <p> + When luncheon was over they sat in a sunny corner of the porch while + Ditmar smoked his cigar. His digestion was good, his spirits high, his + love-making—on account of the public nature of the place—surreptitious + yet fervent. The glamour to which Janet had yielded herself was on + occasions slightly troubled by some new and enigmatic element to be + detected in his voice and glances suggestive of intentions vaguely + disquieting. At last she said: + </p> + <p> + “Oughtn't we to be going home?” + </p> + <p> + “Home!” he ridiculed the notion. “I'm going to take you to the prettiest + road you ever saw—around by French's Lower Falls. I only wish it was + summer.” + </p> + <p> + “I must be home before dark,” she told him. “You see, the family don't + know where I am. I haven't said anything to them about—about this.” + </p> + <p> + “That's right,” he said, after a moment's hesitation: + </p> + <p> + “I didn't think you would. There's plenty of time for that—after + things get settled a little—isn't there?” + </p> + <p> + She thought his look a little odd, but the impression passed as they + walked to the motor. He insisted now on her pinning the roses on the tweed + coat, and she humoured him. The winter sun had already begun to drop, and + with the levelling rays the bare hillsides, yellow and brown in the higher + light, were suffused with pink; little by little, as the sun fell lower, + imperceptible clouds whitened the blue cambric of the sky, distant copses + were stained lilac. And Janet, as she gazed, wondered at a world that held + at once so much beauty, so much joy and sorrow,—such strange sorrow + as began to invade her now, not personal, but cosmic. At times it seemed + almost to suffocate her; she drew in deep breaths of air: it was the + essence of all things—of the man by her side, of herself, of the + beauty so poignantly revealed to her. + </p> + <p> + Gradually Ditmar became conscious of this detachment, this new evidence of + an extraordinary faculty of escaping him that seemed unimpaired. + Constantly he tried by leaning closer to her, by reaching out his hand, to + reassure himself that she was at least physically present. And though she + did not resent these tokens, submitting passively, he grew perplexed and + troubled; his optimistic atheism concerning things unseen was actually + shaken by the impression she conveyed of beholding realities hidden from + him. Shadows had begun to gather in the forest, filmy mists to creep over + the waters. He asked if she were cold, and she shook her head and sighed + as one coming out of a trance, smiling at him. + </p> + <p> + “It's been a wonderful day!” she said. + </p> + <p> + “The greatest ever!” he agreed. And his ardour, mounting again, swept away + the unwonted mood of tenderness and awe she had inspired in him, made him + bold to suggest the plan which had been the subject of an ecstatic + contemplation. + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell you what we'll do,” he said, “we'll take a little run down to + Boston and have dinner together. We'll be there in an hour, and back by + ten o'clock.” + </p> + <p> + “To Boston!” she repeated. “Now?” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” he said, stopping the car. “Here's the road—it's a + boulevard all the way.” + </p> + <p> + It was not so much the proposal as the passion in his voice, in his touch, + the passion to which she felt herself responding that filled her with + apprehension and dismay, and yet aroused her pride and anger. + </p> + <p> + “I told you I had to be home,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “I'll have you home by ten o'clock; I promise. We're going to be married, + Janet,” he whispered. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, if you meant to marry me you wouldn't ask me to do this!” she cried. + “I want to go back to Hampton. If you won't take me, I'll walk.” + </p> + <p> + She had drawn away from him, and her hand was on the door. He seized her + arm. + </p> + <p> + “For God's sake, don't take it that way!” he cried, in genuine alarm. “All + I meant was—that we'd have a nice little dinner. I couldn't bear to + leave you, it'll be a whole week before we get another day. Do you suppose + I'd—I'd do anything to insult you, Janet?” + </p> + <p> + With her fingers still tightened over the door-catch she turned and looked + at him. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” she said slowly. “Sometimes I think you would. Why + shouldn't you? Why should you marry me? Why shouldn't you try to do with + me what you've done with other women? I don't know anything about the + world, about life. I'm nobody. Why shouldn't you?” + </p> + <p> + “Because you're not like the other women—that's why. I love you—won't + you believe it?” He was beside himself with anxiety. “Listen—I'll + take you home if you want to go. You don't know how it hurts me to have + you think such things!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, take me home,” she said. It was but gradually that she became + pacified. A struggle was going on within her between these doubts of him + he had stirred up again and other feelings aroused by his pleadings. Night + fell, and when they reached the Silliston road the lights of Hampton shone + below them in the darkness. + </p> + <p> + “You'd better let me out here,” she said. “You can't drive me home.” + </p> + <p> + He brought the car to a halt beside one of the small wooden shelters built + for the convenience of passengers. + </p> + <p> + “You forgive me—you understand, Janet?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Sometimes I don't know what to think,” she said, and suddenly clung to + him. “I—I forgive you. I oughtn't to suspect such things, but I'm + like that. I'm horrid and I can't help it.” She began to unbutton the coat + he had bought for her. + </p> + <p> + “Aren't you going to take it?” he said. “It's yours.” + </p> + <p> + “And what do you suppose my family would say if I told them Mr. Ditmar had + given it to me?” + </p> + <p> + “Come on, I'll drive you home, I'll tell them I gave it to you, that we're + going to be married,” he announced recklessly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no!” she exclaimed in consternation. “You couldn't. You said so + yourself—that you didn't want, any one to know, now. I'll get on the + trolley.” + </p> + <p> + “And the roses?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + She pressed them to her face, and chose one. “I'll take this,” she said, + laying the rest on the seat.... + </p> + <p> + He waited until he saw her safely on the trolley car, and then drove + slowly homeward in a state of amazement. He had been on the verge of + announcing himself to the family in Fillmore Street as her prospective + husband! He tried to imagine what that household was like; and again he + found himself wondering why she had not consented to his proposal. And the + ever-recurring question presented itself—was he prepared to go that + length? He didn't know. She was beyond him, he had no clew to her, she was + to him as mysterious as a symphony. Certain strains of her moved him + intensely—the rest was beyond his grasp.... At supper, while his + children talked and laughed boisterously, he sat silent, restless, and in + spite of their presence the house seemed appallingly empty. + </p> + <p> + When Janet returned home she ran to her bedroom, and taking from the + wardrobe the tissue paper that had come with her new dress, and which she + had carefully folded, she wrapped the rose in it, and put it away in the + back of a drawer. Thus smothered, its fragrance stifled, it seemed + emblematic, somehow, of the clandestine nature of her love.... + </p> + <p> + The weeks that immediately followed were strange ones. All the elements of + life that previously had been realities, trivial yet fundamental, her + work, her home, her intercourse with the family, became fantastic. There + was the mill to which she went every day: she recognized it, yet it was + not the same mill, nor was Fillmore Street the Fillmore Street of old. Nor + did the new and feverish existence over whose borderland she had been + transported seem real, save in certain hours she spent in Ditmar's + company, when he made her forget—hers being a temperament to feel + the weight of an unnatural secrecy. She was aware, for instance, that her + mother and even her father thought her conduct odd, were anxious as to her + absences on certain nights and on Sundays. She offered no explanation. It + was impossible. She understood that the reason why they refrained from + questioning her was due to a faith in her integrity as well as to a + respect for her as a breadwinner who lead earned a right to independence. + And while her suspicion of Hannah's anxiety troubled her, on the occasions + when she thought of it, Lise's attitude disturbed her even more. From Lise + she had been prepared for suspicion, arraignment, ridicule. What a + vindication if it were disclosed that she, Janet, had a lover—and + that lover Ditmar! But Lise said nothing. She was remote, self-absorbed. + Hannah spoke about it on the evenings Janet stayed at home. + </p> + <p> + She would not consent to meet Ditmar every evening. Yet, as the days + succeeded one another, Janet was often astonished by the fact that their + love remained apparently unsuspected by Mr. Price and Caldwell and others + in the office. They must have noticed, on some occasions, the manner in + which Ditmar looked at her; and in business hours she had continually to + caution him, to keep him in check. Again, on the evening excursions to + which she consented, though they were careful to meet in unfrequented + spots, someone might easily have recognized him; and she did not like to + ponder over the number of young women in the other offices who knew her by + sight. These reflections weighed upon her, particularly when she seemed + conscious of curious glances. But what caused her the most concern was the + constantly recurring pressure to which Ditmar himself subjected her, and + which, as time went on, she found increasingly difficult to resist. He + tried to take her by storm, and when this method failed, resorted to + pleadings and supplications even harder to deny because of the innate + feminine pity she felt for him. To recount these affairs would be a mere + repetition of identical occurrences. On their second Sunday excursion he + had actually driven her, despite her opposition, several miles on the + Boston road; and her resistance only served to inflame him the more. It + seemed, afterwards, as she sat unnerved, a miracle that she had stopped + him. Then came reproaches: she would not trust him; they could not be + married at once; she must understand that!—an argument so repugnant + as to cause her to shake with sobs of inarticulate anger. After this he + would grow bewildered, then repentant, then contrite. In contrition—had + he known it—he was nearest to victory. + </p> + <p> + As has been said, she did not intellectualize her reasons, but the core of + her resistance was the very essence of an individuality having its roots + in a self-respecting and self-controlling inheritance—an element + wanting in her sister Lise. It must have been largely the thought of Lise, + the spectacle of Lise—often perhaps unconsciously present that + dominated her conduct; yet reinforcing such an ancestral sentiment was + another, environmental and more complicated, the result in our modern + atmosphere of an undefined feminism apt to reveal itself in many + undesirable ways, but which in reality is a logical projection of the + American tradition of liberty. To submit was not only to lose her liberty, + to become a dependent, but also and inevitably, she thought, to lose + Ditmar's love.... + </p> + <p> + No experience, however, is emotionally continuous, nor was their intimacy + by any means wholly on this plane of conflict. There were hours when, + Ditmar's passion leaving spent itself, they achieved comradeship, in the + office and out of it; revelations for Janet when he talked of himself, + relating the little incidents she found most illuminating. And thus by + degrees she was able to build up a new and truer estimate of him. For + example, she began to perceive that his life outside of his interest in + the mills, instead of being the romance of privileged joys she had once + imagined, had been almost as empty as her own, without either unity or + direction. Her perception was none the less keen because definite terms + were wanting for its expression. The idea of him that first had captivated + her was that of an energized and focussed character controlling with a + sure hand the fortunes of a great organization; of a power in the city and + state, of a being who, in his leisure moments, dwelt in a delectable realm + from which she was excluded. She was still acutely conscious of his force, + but what she now felt was its lack of direction—save for the portion + that drove the Chippering Mills. The rest of it, like the river, flowed + away on the line of least resistance to the sea. + </p> + <p> + As was quite natural, this gradual discovery of what he was—or of + what he wasn't—this truer estimate, this partial disillusionment, + merely served to deepen and intensify the feeling he had aroused in her; + to heighten, likewise, the sense of her own value by confirming a belief + in her possession of certain qualities, of a kind of fibre he needed in a + helpmate. She dwelt with a woman's fascination upon the prospect of + exercising a creative influence—even while she acknowledged the + fearful possibility of his power in unguarded moments to overwhelm and + destroy her. Here was another incentive to resist the gusts of his + passion. She could guide and develop him by helping and improving herself. + Hope and ambition throbbed within her, she felt a contempt for his wife, + for the women who had been her predecessors. He had not spoken of these, + save once or twice by implication, but with what may seem a surprising + leniency she regarded them as consequences of a life lacking in content. + If only she could keep her head, she might supply that content, and bring + him happiness! The thought of his children troubled her most, but she was + quick to perceive that he got nothing from them; and even though it were + partly his own fault, she was inclined to lay the heavier blame on the + woman who had been their mother. The triviality, the emptiness of his + existence outside of the walls of the mill made her heart beat with pure + pity. For she could understand it. + </p> + <p> + One of the many, and often humorous, incidents that served to bring about + this realization of a former aimlessness happened on their second Sunday + excursion. This time he had not chosen the Kingsbury Tavern, but another + automobilists' haunt, an enlightening indication of established habits + involving a wide choice of resorts. While he was paying for luncheon and + chatting with the proprietor, Ditmar snatched from the change he had flung + down on the counter a five dollar gold coin. + </p> + <p> + “Now how in thunder did that get into my right-hand pocket? I always keep + it in my vest,” he exclaimed; and the matter continued to disturb him + after they were in the automobile. “It's my lucky piece. I guess I was so + excited at the prospect of seeing you when I dressed this morning I put it + into my change. Just see what you do to me!” + </p> + <p> + “Does it bring you luck?” she inquired smilingly. + </p> + <p> + “How about you! I call you the biggest piece of luck I ever had.” + </p> + <p> + “You'd better not be too sure,” she warned him. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'm not worrying. I has that piece in my pocket the day I went down + to see old Stephen Chippering, when he made me agent, and I've kept it + ever since. And I'll tell you a funny thing—it's enough to make any + man believe in luck. Do you remember that day last summer I was tinkering + with the car by the canal and you came along?” + </p> + <p> + “The day you pretended to be tinkering,” she corrected him. + </p> + <p> + He laughed. “So you were on to me?” he said. “You're a foxy one!” + </p> + <p> + “Anyone could see you were only pretending. It made me angry, when I + thought of it afterwards.” + </p> + <p> + “I just had to do it—I wanted to talk to you. But listen to what I'm + going to tell you! It's a miracle, all right,—happening just at that + time—that very morning. I was coming back to Boston from New York on + the midnight, and when the train ran into Back Bay and I was putting on my + trousers the piece rolled out among the bed clothes. I didn't know I'd + lost it until I sat down in the Parker House to eat my breakfast, and I + suddenly felt in my pocket. It made me sick to think it was gone. Well, I + started to telephone the Pullman office, and then I made up my mind I'd + take a taxi and go down to the South Station myself, and just as I got out + of the cab there was the nigger porter, all dressed up in his glad rags, + coming out of the station! I knew him, I'd been on his car lots of times. + 'Say, George,' I said, 'I didn't forget you this morning, did I?' + </p> + <p> + “'No, suh,' said George, 'you done give me a quarter.' + </p> + <p> + “'I guess you're mistaken, George,' says I, and I fished out a ten dollar + bill. You ought to have seen that nigger's eyes.” + </p> + <p> + “'What's this for, Mister Ditmar?' says he. + </p> + <p> + “'For that lucky gold piece you found in lower seven,' I told him. 'We'll + trade.' + </p> + <p> + “'Was you in lower seven?—so you was!' says George. Well, he had it + all right—you bet he had it. Now wasn't that queer? The very day you + and I began to know each other!” + </p> + <p> + “Wonderful!” Janet agreed. “Why don't you put it on your watch chain?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I've thought of that,” he replied, with the air of having + considered all sides of the matter. “But I've got that charm of the secret + order I belong to—that's on my chain. I guess I'll keep it in my + vest pocket.” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't know you were so superstitious,” she mocked. + </p> + <p> + “Pretty nearly everybody's superstitious,” he declared. And she thought of + Lise. + </p> + <p> + “I'm not. I believe if things are going to happen well, they're going to + happen. Nothing can prevent it.” + </p> + <p> + “By thunder” he exclaimed, struck by her remark. “You are like that You're + different from any person I ever knew....” + </p> + <p> + From such anecdotes she pieced together her new Ditmar. He spoke of a + large world she had never seen, of New York and Washington and Chicago, + where he intended to take her. In the future he would never travel alone. + And he told her of his having been a delegate to the last National + Republican Convention, explaining what a delegate was. He gloried in her + innocence, and it was pleasant to dazzle her with impressions of his + cosmopolitanism. In this, perhaps, he was not quite so successful as he + imagined, but her eyes shone. She had never even been in a sleeping car! + For her delectation he launched into an enthusiastic description of these + vehicles, of palatial compartment cars, of limited, transcontinental + trains, where one had a stenographer and a barber at one's disposal. + </p> + <p> + “Neither of them would do me any good,” she complained. + </p> + <p> + “You could go to the manicure,” he said. + </p> + <p> + There had been in Ditmar's life certain events which, in his anecdotal + moods, were magnified into matters of climacteric importance; high, festal + occasions on which it was sweet to reminisce, such as his visit as + Delegate at Large to that Chicago Convention. He had travelled on a + special train stocked with cigars and White Seal champagne, in the company + of senators and congressmen and ex-governors, state treasurers, collectors + of the port, mill owners, and bankers to whom he referred, as the French + say, in terms of their “little” names. He dwelt on the magnificence of the + huge hotel set on the borders of a lake like an inland sea, and related + such portions of the festivities incidental to “the seeing of Chicago” as + would bear repetition. No women belonged to this realm; no women, at + least, who were to be regarded as persons. Ditmar did not mention them, + but no doubt they existed, along with the cigars and the White Seal + champagne, contributing to the amenities. And the excursion, to Janet, + took on the complexion of a sort of glorified picnic in the course of + which, incidentally, a President of the United States had been chosen. In + her innocence she had believed the voters to perform this function. Ditmar + laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Do you suppose we're going to let the mob run this country?” he inquired. + “Once in a while we can't get away with it as we'd like, we have to take + the best we can.” + </p> + <p> + Thus was brought home to her more and more clearly that what men strove + and fought for were the joys of prominence, privilege, and power. + Everywhere, in the great world, they demanded and received consideration. + It was Ditmar's boast that if nobody else could get a room in a crowded + New York hotel, he could always obtain one. And she was fain to concede—she + who had never known privilege—a certain intoxicating quality to this + eminence. If you could get the power, and refused to take it, the more + fool you! A topsy-turvy world, in which the stupid toiled day by day, week + by week, exhausting their energies and craving joy, while others adroitly + carried off the prize; and virtue had apparently as little to do with the + matter as fair hair or a club foot. If Janet had ever read Darwin, she + would have recognized in her lover a creature rather wonderfully adapted + to his environment; and what puzzled her, perhaps, was the riddle that + presents itself to many better informed than herself—the utter + absence in this environment of the sign of any being who might be called + God. Her perplexities—for she did have them—took the form of + an instinctive sense of inadequacy, of persistently recurring though + inarticulate convictions of the existence of elements not included in + Ditmar's categories—of things that money could not buy; of things, + too, alas! that poverty was as powerless to grasp. Stored within her, + sometimes rising to the level of consciousness, was that experience at + Silliston in the May weather when she had had a glimpse—just a + glimpse! of a garden where strange and precious flowers were in bloom. On + the other hand, this mysterious perception by her of things unseen and + hitherto unguessed, of rays of delight in the spectrum of values to which + his senses were unattuned, was for Ditmar the supreme essence of her + fascination. At moments he was at once bewildered and inebriated by the + rare delicacy of fabric of the woman whom he had somehow stumbled upon and + possessed. + </p> + <p> + Then there were the hours when they worked together in the office. Here + she beheld Ditmar at his best. It cannot be said that his infatuation for + her was ever absent from his consciousness: he knew she was there beside + him, he betrayed it continually. But here she was in the presence of what + had been and what remained his ideal, the Chippering Mill; here he + acquired unity. All his energies were bent toward the successful execution + of the Bradlaugh order, which had to be completed on the first of + February. And as day after day went by her realization of the magnitude of + the task he had undertaken became keener. Excitement was in the air. + Ditmar seemed somehow to have managed to infuse not only Orcutt, the + superintendent, but the foremen and second hands and even the workers with + a common spirit of pride and loyalty, of interest, of determination to + carry off this matter triumphantly. The mill seemed fairly to hum with + effort. Janet's increasing knowledge of its organization and processes + only served to heighten her admiration for the confidence Ditmar had shown + from the beginning. It was superb. And now, as the probability of the + successful execution of the task tended more and more toward certainty, he + sometimes gave vent to his boyish, exuberant spirits. + </p> + <p> + “I told Holster, I told all those croakers I'd do it, and by thunder I + will do it, with three days' margin, too! I'll get the last shipment off + on the twenty-eighth of January. Why, even George Chippering was afraid I + couldn't handle it. If the old man was alive he wouldn't have had cold + feet.” Then Ditmar added, half jocularly, half seriously, looking down on + her as she sat with her note-book, waiting for him to go on with his + dictation: “I guess you've had your share in it, too. You've been a + wonder, the way you've caught on and taken things off my shoulders. If + Orcutt died I believe you could step right into his shoes.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm sure I could step into his shoes,” she replied. “Only I hope he won't + die.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope he won't, either,” said Ditmar. “And as for you—” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind me, now,” she said. + </p> + <p> + He bent over her. + </p> + <p> + “Janet, you're the greatest girl in the world.” + </p> + <p> + Yes, she was happiest when she felt she was helping him, it gave her + confidence that she could do more, lead him into paths beyond which they + might explore together. She was useful. Sometimes, however, he seemed to + her oversanguine; though he had worked hard, his success had come too + easily, had been too uniform. His temper was quick, the prospect of + opposition often made him overbearing, yet on occasions he listened with + surprising patience to his subordinates when they ventured to differ from + his opinions. At other times Janet had seen him overrule them ruthlessly; + humiliate them. There were days when things went wrong, when there were + delays, complications, more matters to attend to than usual. On one such + day, after the dinner hour, Mr. Orcutt entered the office. His long, lean + face wore a certain expression Janet had come to know, an expression that + always irritated Ditmar—the conscientious superintendent having the + unfortunate faculty of exaggerating annoyances by his very bearing. Ditmar + stopped in the midst of dictating a peculiarly difficult letter, and + looked up sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he asked, “what's the trouble now?” + </p> + <p> + Orcutt seemed incapable of reading storm signals. When anything happened, + he had the air of declaring, “I told you so.” + </p> + <p> + “You may remember I spoke to you once or twice, Mr. Ditmar, of the talk + over the fifty-four hour law that goes into effect in January.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, what of it?” Ditmar cut in. “The notices have been posted, as the + law requires.” + </p> + <p> + “The hands have been grumbling, there are trouble makers among them. A + delegation came to me this noon and wanted to know whether we intended to + cut the pay to correspond to the shorter working hours.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course it's going to be cut,” said Ditmar. “What do they suppose? That + we're going to pay 'em for work they don't do? The hands not paid by the + piece are paid practically by the hour, not by the day. And there's got to + be some limit to this thing. If these damned demagogues in the legislature + keep on cutting down the hours of women and children every three years or + so—and we can't run the mill without the women and children—we + might as well shut down right now. Three years ago, when they made it + fifty-six hours, we were fools to keep up the pay. I said so then, at the + conference, but they wouldn't listen to me. They listened this time. + Holster and one or two others croaked, but we shut 'em up. No, they won't + get any more pay, not a damned cent.” + </p> + <p> + Orcutt had listened patiently, lugubriously. + </p> + <p> + “I told them that.” + </p> + <p> + “What did they say?” + </p> + <p> + “They said they thought there'd be a strike.” + </p> + <p> + “Pooh! Strike!” exclaimed Ditmar with contemptuous violence. “Do you + believe that? You're always borrowing trouble, you are. They may have a + strike at one mill, the Clarendon. I hope they do, I hope Holster gets it + in the neck—he don't know how to run a mill anyway. We won't have + any strike, our people understand when they're well off, they've got all + the work they can do, they're sending fortunes back to the old country or + piling them up in the banks. It's all bluff.” + </p> + <p> + “There was a meeting of the English branch of the I. W. W. last night. A + committee was appointed,” said Orcutt, who as usual took a gloomy + satisfaction in the prospect of disaster. + </p> + <p> + “The I. W. W.! My God, Orcutt, don't you know enough not to come in here + wasting my time talking about the I. W. W.? Those anarchists haven't got + any organization. Can't you get that through your head?” + </p> + <p> + “All right,” replied Orcutt, and marched off. Janet felt rather sorry for + him, though she had to admit that his manner was exasperating. But + Ditmar's anger, instead of cooling, increased: it all seemed directed + against the unfortunate superintendent. + </p> + <p> + “Would you believe that a man who's been in this mill twenty-five years + could be such a fool?” he demanded. “The I. W. W.! Why not the Ku Klux? He + must think I haven't anything to do but chin. I don't know why I keep him + here, sometimes I think he'll drive me crazy.” + </p> + <p> + His eyes seemed to have grown small and red, as was always the case when + his temper got the better of him. Janet did not reply, but sat with her + pencil poised over her book. + </p> + <p> + “Let's see, where was I?” he asked. “I can't finish that letter now. Go + out and do the others.” + </p> + <p> + Mundane experience, like a badly mixed cake, has a tendency to run in + streaks, and on the day following the incident related above Janet's heart + was heavy. Ditmar betrayed an increased shortness of temper and + preoccupation; and the consciousness that her love had lent her a + clairvoyant power to trace the source of his humours though these were + often hidden from or unacknowledged by himself—was in this instance + small consolation. She saw clearly enough that the apprehensions expressed + by Mr. Orcutt, whom he had since denounced as an idiotic old woman, had + made an impression, aroused in him the ever-abiding concern for the mill + which was his life's passion and which had been but temporarily displaced + by his infatuation with her. That other passion was paramount. What was + she beside it? Would he hesitate for a moment to sacrifice her if it came + to a choice between them? The tempestuousness of these thoughts, when they + took possession of her, hinting as they did of possibilities in her nature + hitherto unguessed and unrevealed, astonished and frightened her; she + sought to thrust them away, to reassure herself that his concern for the + successful delivery of the Bradlaugh order was natural. During the + morning, in the intervals between interviews with the superintendents, he + was self-absorbed, and she found herself inconsistently resenting the + absence of those expressions of endearment—the glances and stolen + caresses—for indulgence in which she had hitherto rebuked him: and + though pride came to her rescue, fuel was added to her feeling by the fact + that he did not seem to notice her coolness. Since he failed to appear + after lunch, she knew he must be investigating the suspicions Orcutt had + voiced; but at six o'clock, when he had not returned, she closed up her + desk and left the office. An odour of cheap perfume pervading the corridor + made her aware of the presence of Miss Lottie Myers. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it's you!” said that young woman, looking up from the landing of the + stairs. “I might have known it you never make a get-away until after six, + do you?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sometimes,” said Janet. + </p> + <p> + “I stayed as a special favour to-night,” Miss Myers declared. “But I'm not + so stuck on my job that I can't tear myself away from it.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't suppose you are,” said Janet. + </p> + <p> + For a moment Miss Myers looked as if she was about to be still more + impudent, but her eye met Janet's, and wavered. They crossed the bridge in + silence. “Well, ta-ta,” she said. “If you like it, it's up to you. Five + o'clock for mine,”—and walked away, up the canal, swinging her hips + defiantly. And Janet, gazing after her, grew hot with indignation and + apprehension. Her relations with Ditmar were suspected, after all, made + the subject of the kind of comment indulged in, sotto voce, by Lottie + Myers and her friends at the luncheon hour. She felt a mad, primitive + desire to run after the girl, to spring upon and strangle her and compel + her to speak what was in her mind and then retract it; and the motor + impulse, inhibited, caused a sensation of sickness, of unhappiness and + degradation as she turned her steps slowly homeward. Was it a + misinterpretation, after all—what Lottie Myers had implied and + feared to say?... + </p> + <p> + In Fillmore Street supper was over, and Lise, her face contorted, her body + strained, was standing in front of the bureau “doing” her hair, her glance + now seeking the mirror, now falling again to consult a model in one of + those periodicals of froth and fashion that cause such numberless heart + burnings in every quarter of our democracy, and which are filled with + photographs of “prominent” persons at race meetings, horse shows, and + resorts, and with actresses, dancers,—and mannequins. Janet's eyes + fell on the open page to perceive that the coiffure her sister so + painfully imitated was worn by a young woman with an insolent, vapid face + and hard eyes, whose knees were crossed, revealing considerably more than + an ankle. The picture was labelled, “A dance at Palm Beach—A + flashlight of Mrs. 'Trudy' Gascoigne-Schell,”—one of those + mysterious, hybrid names which, in connection with the thoughts of New + York and the visible rakish image of the lady herself, cause involuntary + shudders down the spine of the reflecting American provincial. Some such + responsive quiver, akin to disgust, Janet herself experienced. + </p> + <p> + “It's the very last scream,” Lise was saying. “And say, if I owned a ball + dress like that I'd be somebody's Lulu all right! Can I have the pleasure + of the next maxixe, Miss Bumpus?” With deft and rapid fingers she lead + parted her hair far on the right side and pulled it down over the left + eyebrow, twisted it over her ear and tightly around her head, inserting + here and there a hairpin, seizing the hand mirror with the cracked back, + and holding it up behind her. Finally, when the operation was finished to + her satisfaction she exclaimed, evidently to the paragon in the picture, + “I get you!” Whereupon, from the wardrobe, she produced a hat. “You sure + had my number when you guessed the feathers on that other would get + draggled,” she observed in high good humour, generously ignoring their + former unpleasantness on the subject. When she had pinned it on she bent + mockingly over her sister, who sat on the bed. “How d'you like my new + toque? Peekaboo! That's the way the guys rubberneck to see if you're good + lookin'.” + </p> + <p> + Lise was exalted, feverish, apparently possessed by some high secret; her + eyes shone, and when she crossed the room she whistled bars of ragtime and + executed mincing steps of the maxixe. Fumbling in the upper drawer for a + pair of white gloves (also new), she knocked off the corner of the bureau + her velvet bag; it opened as it struck the floor, and out of it rolled a + lilac vanity case and a yellow coin. Casting a suspicious, lightning + glance at Janet, she snatched up the vanity case and covered the coin with + her foot. + </p> + <p> + “Lock the doors!” she cried, with an hysteric giggle. Then removing her + foot she picked up the coin surreptitiously. To her amazement her sister + made no comment, did not seem to have taken in the significance of the + episode. Lise had expected a tempest of indignant, searching questions, a + “third degree,” as she would have put it. She snapped the bag together, + drew on her gloves, and, when she was ready to leave, with characteristic + audacity crossed the room, taking her sister's face between her hands and + kissing her. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me your troubles, sweetheart!” she said—and did not wait to + hear them. + </p> + <p> + Janet was incapable of speech—nor could she have brought herself to + ask Lise whether or not the money had been earned at the Bagatelle, and + remained miraculously unspent. It was possible, but highly incredible. And + then, the vanity case and the new hat were to be accounted for! The sight + of the gold piece, indeed, had suddenly revived in Janet the queer feeling + of faintness, almost of nausea she had experienced after parting with + Lottie Myers. And by some untoward association she was reminded of a + conversation she had had with Ditmar on the Saturday afternoon following + their first Sunday excursion, when, on opening her pay envelope, she had + found twenty dollars. + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure I'm worth it?” she had demanded—and he had been quite + sure. He had added that she was worth more, much more, but that he could + not give her as yet, without the risk of comment, a sum commensurate with + the value of her services.... But now she asked herself again, was she + worth it? or was it merely—part of her price? Going to the wardrobe + and opening a drawer at the bottom she searched among her clothes until + she discovered the piece of tissue paper in which she had wrapped the rose + rescued from the cluster he had given her. The petals were dry, yet they + gave forth, still, a faint, reminiscent fragrance as she pressed them to + her face. Janet wept.... + </p> + <p> + The following morning as she was kneeling in a corner of the room by the + letter files, one of which she had placed on the floor, she recognized his + step in the outer office, heard him pause to joke with young Caldwell, and + needed not the visual proof—when after a moment he halted on the + threshold—of the fact that his usual, buoyant spirits were restored. + He held a cigar in his hand, and in his eyes was the eager look with which + she had become familiar, which indeed she had learned to anticipate as + they swept the room in search of her. And when they fell on her he closed + the door and came forward impetuously. But her exclamation caused him to + halt in bewilderment. + </p> + <p> + “Don't touch me!” she said. + </p> + <p> + And he stammered out, as he stood over her:—“What's the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “Everything. You don't love me—I was a fool to believe you did.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't love you!” he repeated. “My God, what's the trouble now? What have + I done?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it's nothing you've done, it's what you haven't done, it's what you + can't do. You don't really care for me—all you care for is this mill—when + anything happens here you don't know I'm alive.” + </p> + <p> + He stared at her, and then an expression of comprehension, of intense + desire grew in his eyes; and his laugh, as he flung his cigar out of the + open window and bent down to seize her, was almost brutal. She fought him, + she tried to hurt him, and suddenly, convulsively pressed herself to him. + </p> + <p> + “You little tigress!” he said, as he held her. “You were jealous—were + you—jealous of the mill?” And he laughed again. “I'd like to see you + with something really to be jealous about. So you love me like that, do + you?” + </p> + <p> + She could feel his heart beating against her. + </p> + <p> + “I won't be neglected,” she told him tensely. “I want all of you—if + I can't have all of you, I don't want any. Do you understand?” + </p> + <p> + “Do I understand? Well, I guess I do.” + </p> + <p> + “You didn't yesterday,” she reproached him, somewhat dazed by the + swiftness of her submission, and feeling still the traces of a lingering + resentment. She had not intended to surrender. “You forgot all about me, + you didn't know I was here, much less that I was hurt. Oh, I was hurt! And + you—I can tell at once when anything's wrong with you—I know + without your saying it.” + </p> + <p> + He was amazed, he might indeed have been troubled and even alarmed by this + passion he had aroused had his own passion not been at the flood. And as + he wiped away her tears with his handkerchief he could scarcely believe + his senses that this was the woman whose resistance had demanded all his + force to overcome. Indeed, although he recognized the symptoms she + betrayed as feminine, as having been registered—though feebly + compared to this! by incidents in his past, precisely his difficulty + seemed to be in identifying this complex and galvanic being as a woman, + not as something almost fearful in her significance, outside the bounds of + experience.... + </p> + <p> + Presently she ceased to tremble, and he drew her to the window. The day + was as mild as autumn, the winter sun like honey in its mellowness; a soft + haze blurred the outline of the upper bridge. + </p> + <p> + “Only two more days until Sunday,” he whispered, caressingly, + exultantly.... + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII + </h2> + <p> + It had been a strange year in Hampton, unfortunate for coal merchants, + welcome to the poor. But Sunday lacked the transforming touch of sunshine. + The weather was damp and cold as Janet set out from Fillmore Street. + Ditmar, she knew, would be waiting for her, he counted on her, and she + could not bear to disappoint him, to disappoint herself. And all the + doubts and fears that from time to time had assailed her were banished by + this impulse to go to him, to be with him. He loved her! The words, as she + sat in the trolley car, ran in her head like the lilt of a song. What did + the weather matter? + </p> + <p> + When she alighted at the lonely cross-roads snow had already begun to + fall. But she spied the automobile, with its top raised, some distance + down the lane, and in a moment she was in it, beside him, wrapped in the + coat she had now come to regard as her own. He buttoned down the curtains + and took her in his arms. + </p> + <p> + “What shall we do to-day,” she asked, “if it snows?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't let that worry you, sweetheart,” he said. “I have the chains on, I + can get through anything in this car.” + </p> + <p> + He was in high, almost turbulent spirits as he turned the car and drove it + out of the rutty lane into the state road. The snow grew thicker and + thicker still, the world was blotted out by swiftly whirling, feathery + flakes that melted on the windshield, and through the wet glass Janet + caught distorted glimpses of black pines and cedars beside the highway. + </p> + <p> + The ground was spread with fleece. Occasionally, and with startling + suddenness, other automobiles shot like dark phantoms out of the + whiteness, and like phantoms disappeared. Presently, through the veil, she + recognized Silliston—a very different Silliston from that she had + visited on the fragrant day in springtime, when the green on the common + had been embroidered with dandelions, and the great elms whose bare + branches were now fantastically traced against the flowing veil of white—heavy + with leaf. Vignettes emerged—only to fade!—of the old-world + houses whose quaint beauty had fascinated and moved her. And she found + herself wondering what had become of the strange man she had mistaken for + a carpenter. All that seemed to have taken place in a past life. She asked + Ditmar where he was going. + </p> + <p> + “Boston,” he told her. “There's no other place to go.” + </p> + <p> + “But you'll never get back if it goes on snowing like this.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, the trains are still running,” he assured her, with a quizzical + smile. “How about it, little girl?” It was a term of endearment derived, + undoubtedly, from a theatrical source, in which he sometimes indulged. + </p> + <p> + She did not answer. Surprisingly, to-day, she did not care. All she could + think of, all she wanted was to go on and on beside him with the world + shut out—on and on forever. She was his—what did it matter? + They were on their way to Boston! She began, dreamily, to think about + Boston, to try to restore it in her imagination to the exalted place it + had held before she met Ditmar; to reconstruct it from vague memories of + childhood when, in two of the family peregrinations, she had crossed it. + Traces remained of emotionally-toned impressions acquired when she had + walked about the city holding Edward's hand—of a long row of stately + houses with forbidding fronts, set on a hillside, of a wide, tree-covered + space where children were playing. And her childish verdict, persisting + to-day, was one of inaccessibility, impenetrability, of jealously guarded + wealth and beauty. Those houses, and the treasures she was convinced they + must contain, were not for her! Some of the panes of glass in their + windows were purple—she remembered a little thing like that, and + asking her father the reason! He hadn't known. This purple quality had + somehow steeped itself into her memory of Boston, and even now the colour + stood for the word, impenetrable. That was extraordinary. Even now! Well, + they were going to Boston; if Ditmar had said they were going to Bagdad it + would have been quite as credible—and incredible. Wherever they were + going, it was into the larger, larger life, and walls were to crumble + before them, walls through which they would pass, even as they rent the + white veil of the storm, into regions of beauty.... + </p> + <p> + And now the world seemed abandoned to them alone, so empty, so still were + the white villages flitting by; so empty, so still the great parkway of + the Fells stretching away and away like an enchanted forest under the + snow, like the domain of some sleeping king. And the flakes melted + silently into the black waters. And the wide avenue to which they came led + to a sleeping palace! No, it was a city, Somerville, Ditmar told her, as + they twisted in and out of streets, past stores, churches and fire-engine + houses, breasted the heights, descended steeply on the far side into + Cambridge, and crossed the long bridge over the Charles. And here at last + was Boston—Beacon Street, the heart or funnel of it, as one chose. + Ditmar, removing one of the side curtains that she might see, with just a + hint in his voice of a reverence she was too excited to notice, pointed + out the stern and respectable facades of the twin Chippering mansions + standing side by side. Save for these shrines—for such in some sort + they were to him—the Back Bay in his eyes was nothing more than a + collection of houses inhabited by people whom money and social position + made unassailable. But to-day he, too, was excited. Never had he been more + keenly aware of her sensitiveness to experience; and he to whom it had not + occurred to wonder at Boston wondered at her, who seemed able to summon + forth a presiding, brooding spirit of the place from out of the snow. Deep + in her eyes, though they sparkled, was the reflection of some mystic + vision; her cheeks were flushed. And in her delight, vicariously his own, + he rejoiced; in his trembling hope of more delight to come, which this + mentorship would enhance,—despite the fast deepening snow he drove + her up one side of Commonwealth Avenue and down the other, encircling the + Common and the Public Garden; stopping at the top of Park Street that she + might gaze up at the State House, whose golden dome, seen through the + veil, was tinged with blue. Boston! Why not Russia? Janet was speechless + for sheer lack of words to describe what she felt.... + </p> + <p> + At length he brought the car to a halt opposite an imposing doorway in + front of which a glass roof extended over the pavement, and Janet demanded + where they were. + </p> + <p> + “Well, we've got to eat, haven't we?” Ditmar replied. She noticed that he + was shivering. + </p> + <p> + “Are you cold?” she inquired with concern. + </p> + <p> + “I guess I am, a little,” he replied. “I don't know why I should be, in a + fur coat. But I'll be warm soon enough, now.” + </p> + <p> + A man in blue livery hurried toward them across the sidewalk, helping them + to alight. And Ditmar, after driving the car a few paces beyond the + entrance, led her through the revolving doors into a long corridor, paved + with marble and lighted by bulbs glowing from the ceiling, where benches + were set against the wall, overspread by the leaves of potted plants set + in the intervals between them. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down a moment,” he said to her. “I must telephone to have somebody + take that car, or it'll stay there the rest of the winter.” + </p> + <p> + She sat down on one of the benches. The soft light, the warmth, the exotic + odour of the plants, the well-dressed people who trod softly the strip of + carpet set on the marble with the air of being at home—all + contributed to an excitement, intense yet benumbing. She could not think. + She didn't want to think—only to feel, to enjoy, to wring the utmost + flavour of enchantment from these new surroundings; and her face wore the + expression of one in a dream. Presently she saw Ditmar returning followed + by a boy in a blue uniform. + </p> + <p> + “All right,” he said. At the end of the corridor was an elevator in which + they were shot to one of the upper floors; and the boy, inserting a key in + a heavy mahogany door, revealed a sitting-room. Between its windows was a + table covered with a long, white cloth reaching to the floor, on which, + amidst the silverware and glass, was set a tall vase filled with dusky + roses. Janet, drawing in a deep breath of their fragrance, glanced around + the room. The hangings, the wall-paper, the carpet, the velvet upholstery + of the mahogany chairs, of the wide lounge in the corner were of a deep + and restful green; the marble mantelpiece, with its English coal grate, + was copied—had she known it—from a mansion of the Georgian + period. The hands of a delicate Georgian clock pointed to one. And in the + large mirror behind the clock she beheld an image she supposed, dreamily, + to be herself. The bell boy was taking off her coat, which he hung, with + Ditmar's, on a rack in a corner. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I light the fire, sir?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Sure,” said Ditmar. “And tell them to hurry up with lunch.” + </p> + <p> + The boy withdrew, closing the door silently behind him. + </p> + <p> + “We're going to have lunch here!” Janet exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Why not? I thought it would be nicer than a public dining-room, and when + I got up this morning and saw what the weather was I telephoned.” He + placed two chairs before the fire, which had begun to blaze. “Isn't it + cosy?” he said, taking her hands and pulling her toward him. His own hands + trembled, the tips of his fingers were cold. + </p> + <p> + “You are cold!” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Not now—not now,” he replied. The queer vibrations were in his + voice that she had heard before. “Sweetheart! This is the best yet, isn't + it? And after that trip in the storm!” + </p> + <p> + “It's beautiful!” she murmured, gently drawing away from him and looking + around her once more. “I never was in a room like this.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you'll be in plenty more of them,” he exulted. “Sit down beside the + fire, and get warm yourself.” + </p> + <p> + She obeyed, and he took the chair at her side, his eyes on her face. As + usual, she was beyond him; and despite her exclamations of surprise, of + appreciation and pleasure she maintained the outward poise, the + inscrutability that summed up for him her uniqueness in the world of + woman. She sat as easily upright in the delicate Chippendale chair as + though she had been born to it. He made wild surmises as to what she might + be thinking. Was she, as she seemed, taking all this as a matter of + course? She imposed on him an impelling necessity to speak, to say + anything—it did not matter what—and he began to dwell on the + excellences of the hotel. She did not appear to hear him, her eyes + lingering on the room, until presently she asked:—“What's the name + of this hotel?” + </p> + <p> + He told her. + </p> + <p> + “I thought they only allowed married people to come, like this, in a + private room.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” he began—and the sudden perception that she had made this + statement impartially added to his perplexity. “Well,” he was able to + answer, “we're as good as married, aren't we, Janet?” He leaned toward + her, he put his hand on hers. “The manager here is an old friend of mine. + He knows we're as good as married.” + </p> + <p> + “Another old friend!” she queried. And the touch of humour, in spite of + his taut nerves, delighted him. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes,” he laughed, rather uproariously. “I've got 'em everywhere, as + thick as landmarks.” + </p> + <p> + “You seem to,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “I hope you're hungry,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Not very,” she replied. “It's all so strange—this day, Claude. It's + like a fairy story, coming here to Boston in the snow, and this place, and—and + being with you.” + </p> + <p> + “You still love me?” he cried, getting up. + </p> + <p> + “You must know that I do,” she answered simply, raising her face to his. + And he stood gazing down into it, with an odd expression she had never + seen before.... “What's the matter?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing—nothing,” he assured her, but continued to look at her. + “You're so—so wonderful,” he whispered, “I just can't believe it.” + </p> + <p> + “And if it's hard for you,” she answered, “think what it must be for me!” + And she smiled up at him. + </p> + <p> + Ditmar had known a moment of awe.... Suddenly he took her face between his + hands and pressed his rough cheek against it, blindly. His hands trembled, + his body was shaken, as by a spasm. + </p> + <p> + “Why, you're still cold, Claude!” she cried anxiously. + </p> + <p> + And he stammered out: “I'm not—it's you—it's having you!” + </p> + <p> + Before she could reply to this strange exclamation, to which, + nevertheless, some fire in her leaped in response, there came a knock at + the door, and he drew away from her as he answered it. Two waiters entered + obsequiously, one bearing a serving table, the other holding above his + head a large tray containing covered dishes and glasses. + </p> + <p> + “I could do with a cocktail!” Ditmar exclaimed, and the waiter smiled as + he served them. “Here's how!” he said, giving her a glass containing a + yellow liquid. + </p> + <p> + She tasted it, made a grimace, and set it down hastily. + </p> + <p> + “What's the trouble?” he asked, laughing, as she hurried to the table and + took a drink of water. + </p> + <p> + “It's horrid!” she cried. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you'll get over that idea,” he told her. “You'll be crazy about 'em.” + </p> + <p> + “I never want to taste another,” she declared. + </p> + <p> + He laughed again. He had taken his at a swallow, but almost nullifying its + effect was this confirmation—if indeed he had needed it—of the + extent of her inexperience. She was, in truth, untouched by the world—the + world in which he had lived. He pulled out her chair for her and she sat + down, confronted by a series of knives, forks, and spoons on either side + of a plate of oysters. Oysters served in this fashion, needless to say, + had never formed part of the menu in Fillmore Street, or in any Hampton + restaurant where she had lunched. But she saw that Ditmar had chosen a + little fork with three prongs, and she followed his example. + </p> + <p> + “You mustn't tell me you don't like Cotuits!” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + She touched one, delicately, with her fork. + </p> + <p> + “They're alive!” she exclaimed, though the custom of consuming them thus + was by no means unknown to her. Lise had often boasted of a taste for + oysters on the shell, though really preferring them smothered with red + catsup in a “cocktail.” + </p> + <p> + “They're alive, but they don't know it. They won't eat you,” Ditmar + replied gleefully. “Squeeze a little lemon on one.” Another sort of woman, + he reflected, would have feigned a familiarity with the dish. + </p> + <p> + She obeyed him, put one in her mouth, gave a little shiver, and swallowed + it quickly. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” he said. “It isn't bad, is it?” + </p> + <p> + “It seems so queer to eat anything alive, and enjoy it,” she said, as she + ate the rest of them. + </p> + <p> + “If you think they're good here you ought to taste them on the Cape, right + out of the water,” he declared, and went on to relate how he had once + eaten a fabulous number in a contest with a friend of his, and won a bet. + He was fond of talking about wagers he had won. Betting had lent a zest to + his life. “We'll roll down there together some day next summer, little + girl. It's a great place. You can go in swimming three times a day and + never feel it. And talk about eating oysters, you can't swallow 'em as + fast as a fellow I know down there, Joe Pusey, can open 'em. It's some + trick to open 'em.” + </p> + <p> + He described the process, but she—scarcely listened. She was + striving to adjust herself to the elements of a new and revolutionary + experience; to the waiters who came and went, softly, deferentially + putting hot plates before her, helping her to strange and delicious + things; a creamy soup, a fish with a yellow sauce whose ingredients were + artfully disguised, a breast of guinea fowl, a salad, an ice, and a small + cup of coffee. Instincts and tastes hitherto unsuspected and ungratified + were aroused in her. What would it be like always to be daintily served, + to eat one's meals in this leisurely and luxurious manner? As her physical + hunger was satisfied by the dainty food, even as her starved senses drank + in the caressing warmth and harmony of the room, the gleaming fire, the + heavy scent of the flowers, the rose glow of the lights in contrast to the + storm without,—so the storm flinging itself against the windows, + powerless to reach her, seemed to typify a former existence of cold, black + mornings and factory bells and harsh sirens, of toil and limitations. Had + her existence been like that? or was it a dream, a nightmare from which + she had awakened at last? From time to time, deep within her, she felt + persisting a conviction that that was reality, this illusion, but she + fought it down. She wanted—oh, how she wanted to believe in the + illusion! + </p> + <p> + Facing her was the agent, the genius, the Man who had snatched her from + that existence, who had at his command these delights to bestow. She loved + him, she belonged to him, he was to be her husband—yet there were + moments when the glamour of this oddly tended to dissolve, when an + objective vision intruded and she beheld herself, as though removed from + the body, lunching with a strange man in a strange place. And once it + crossed her mind—what would she think of another woman who did this? + What would she think if it were Lise? She could not then achieve a sense + of identity; it was as though she had partaken of some philtre lulling + her, inhibiting her power to grasp the fact in its enormity. And little by + little grew on her the realization of what all along she had known, that + the spell of these surroundings to which she had surrendered was an + expression of the man himself. He was the source of it. More and more, as + he talked, his eyes troubled and stirred her; the touch of his hand, as he + reached across the table and laid it on hers, burned her. When the waiters + had left them alone she could stand the strain no longer, and she rose and + strayed about the room, examining the furniture, the curtains, the crystal + pendants, faintly pink, that softened and diffused the light; and she + paused before the grand piano in the corner. + </p> + <p> + “I'd like to be able to play!” she said. + </p> + <p> + “You can learn,” he told her. + </p> + <p> + “I'm too old!” + </p> + <p> + He laughed. And as he sat smoking his eyes followed her ceaselessly. + </p> + <p> + Above the sofa hung a large print of the Circus Maximus, with crowded + tiers mounting toward the sky, and awninged boxes where sat the Vestal + Virgins and the Emperor high above a motley, serried group on the sand. At + the mouth of a tunnel a lion stood motionless, menacing, regarding them. + The picture fascinated Janet. + </p> + <p> + “It's meant to be Rome, isn't it?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “What? That? I guess so.” He got up and came over to her. “Sure,” he said. + “I'm not very strong on history, but I read a book once, a novel, which + told how those old fellows used to like to see Christians thrown to the + lions just as we like to see football games. I'll get the book again—we'll + read it together.” + </p> + <p> + Janet shivered.... “Here's another picture,” he said, turning to the other + side of the room. It was, apparently, an engraved copy of a modern + portrait, of a woman in evening dress with shapely arms and throat and a + small, aristocratic head. Around her neck was hung a heavy rope of pearls. + </p> + <p> + “Isn't she beautiful!” Janet sighed. + </p> + <p> + “Beautiful!” He led her to the mirror. “Look!” he said. “I'll buy you + pearls, Janet, I want to see them gleaming against your skin. She can't + compare to you. I'll—I'll drape you with pearls.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” she cried. “I don't want them, Claude. I don't want them. + Please!” She scarcely knew what she was saying. And as she drew away from + him her hands went out, were pressed together with an imploring, + supplicating gesture. He seized them. His nearness was suffocating her, + she flung herself into his arms, and their lips met in a long, swooning + kiss. She began instinctively but vainly to struggle, not against him—but + against a primal thing stronger than herself, stronger than he, stronger + than codes and conventions and institutions, which yet she craved fiercely + as her being's fulfilment. It was sweeping them dizzily—whither? The + sheer sweetness and terror of it! + </p> + <p> + “Don't, don't!” she murmured desperately. “You mustn't!” + </p> + <p> + “Janet—we're going to be married, sweetheart,—just as soon as + we can. Won't you trust me? For God's sake, don't be cruel. You're my + wife, now—” + </p> + <p> + His voice seemed to come from a great distance. And from a great distance, + too, her own in reply, drowned as by falling waters. + </p> + <p> + “Do you love me?—will you love me always—always?” + </p> + <p> + And he answered hoarsely, “Yes—always—I swear it, Janet.” He + had found her lips again, he was pulling her toward a door on the far side + of the room, and suddenly, as he opened it, her resistance ceased.... + </p> + <p> + The snow made automobiling impossible, and at half past nine that evening + Ditmar had escorted Janet to the station in a cab, and she had taken the + train for Hampton. For a while she sat as in a trance. She knew that + something had happened, something portentous, cataclysmic, which had + irrevocably changed her from the Janet Bumpus who had left Hampton that + same morning—an age ago. But she was unable to realize the + metamorphosis. In the course of a single day she had lived a lifetime, + exhausted the range of human experience, until now she was powerless to + feel any more. The car was filled with all sorts and conditions of people + returning to homes scattered through the suburbs and smaller cities north + of Boston—a mixed, Sunday-night crowd; and presently she began, in a + detached way, to observe them. Their aspects, their speech and manners had + the queer effect of penetrating her consciousness without arousing the + emotional judgments of approval or disapproval which normally should have + followed. Ordinarily she might have felt a certain sympathy for the + fragile young man on the seat beside her who sat moodily staring through + his glasses at the floor: and the group across the aisle would surely have + moved her to disgust. Two couples were seated vis-a-vis, the men + apparently making fun of a “pony” coat one of the girls was wearing. In + spite of her shrieks, which drew general attention, they pulled it from + her back—an operation regarded by the conductor himself with + tolerant amusement. Whereupon her companion, a big, blond Teuton with an + inane guffaw, boldly thrust an arm about her waist and held her while he + presented the tickets. Janet beheld all this as one sees dancers through a + glass, without hearing the music. + </p> + <p> + Behind her two men fell into conversation. + </p> + <p> + “I guess there's well over a foot of snow. I thought we'd have an open + winter, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Look out for them when they start in mild!” + </p> + <p> + “I was afraid this darned road would be tied up if I waited until morning. + I'm in real estate, and there's a deal on in my town I've got to watch + every minute....” + </p> + <p> + Even the talk between two slouch-hatted millhands, foreigners, failed at + the time to strike Janet as having any significance. They were discussing + with some heat the prospect of having their pay reduced by the fifty-four + hour law which was to come into effect on Monday. They denounced the mill + owners. + </p> + <p> + “They speed up the machine and make work harder,” said one. “I think we + goin' to have a strike sure.” + </p> + <p> + “Bad sisson too to have strike,” replied the second pessimistically. “It + will be cold winter, now.” + </p> + <p> + Across the black square of the window drifted the stray lights of the + countryside, and from time to time, when the train stopped, she gazed out, + unheeding, at the figures moving along the dim station platforms. + Suddenly, without premeditation or effort, she began to live over again + the day, beginning with the wonders, half revealed, half hidden, of that + journey through the whiteness to Boston.... Awakened, listening, she heard + beating louder and louder on the shores of consciousness the waves of the + storm which had swept her away—waves like crashing chords of music. + She breathed deeply, she turned her face to the window, seeming to behold + reflected there, as in a crystal, all her experiences, little and great, + great and little. She was seated once more leaning back in the corner of + the carriage on her way to the station, she felt Ditmar's hand working in + her own, and she heard his voice pleading forgiveness—for her + silence alarmed him. And she heard herself saying:—“It was my fault + as much as yours.” + </p> + <p> + And his vehement reply:—“It wasn't anybody's fault—it was + natural, it was wonderful, Janet. I can't bear to see you sad.” + </p> + <p> + To see her sad! Twice, during the afternoon and evening, he had spoken + those words—or was it three times? Was there a time she had + forgotten? And each time she had answered: “I'm not sad.” What she had + felt indeed was not sadness,—but how could she describe it to him + when she herself was amazed and dwarfed by it? Could he not feel it, too? + Were men so different?... In the cab his solicitation, his tenderness were + only to be compared with his bewilderment, his apparent awe of the feeling + he himself had raised up in her, and which awed her, likewise. She had + actually felt that bewilderment of his when, just before they had reached + the station, she had responded passionately to his last embrace. Even as + he returned her caresses, it had been conveyed to her amazingly by the + quality of his touch. Was it a lack all women felt in men? and were these, + even in supreme moments, merely the perplexed transmitters of life?—not + life itself? Her thoughts did not gain this clarity, though she divined + the secret. And yet she loved him—loved him with a fierceness that + frightened her, with a tenderness that unnerved her.... + </p> + <p> + At the Hampton station she took the trolley, alighting at the Common, + following the narrow path made by pedestrians in the heavy snow to + Fillmore Street. She climbed the dark stairs, opened the dining-room door, + and paused on the threshold. Hannah and Edward sat there under the lamp, + Hannah scanning through her spectacles the pages of a Sunday newspaper. On + perceiving Janet she dropped it hastily in her lap. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I was concerned about you, in all this storm!” she exclaimed. + “Thank goodness you're home, anyway. You haven't seen Lise, have you?” + </p> + <p> + “Lise?” Janet repeated. “Hasn't she been home?” + </p> + <p> + “Your father and I have been alone all day long. Not that it is so + uncommon for Lise to be gone. I wish it wasn't! But you! When you didn't + come home for supper I was considerably worried.” + </p> + <p> + Janet sat down between her mother and father and began to draw off her + gloves. + </p> + <p> + “I'm going to marry Mr. Ditmar,” she announced. + </p> + <p> + For a few moments the silence was broken only by the ticking of the + old-fashioned clock. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Ditmar!” said Hannah, at length. “You're going to marry Mr. Ditmar!” + </p> + <p> + Edward was still inarticulate. His face twitched, his eyes watered as he + stared at her. + </p> + <p> + “Not right away,” said Janet. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I must say you take it rather cool,” declared Hannah, almost + resentfully. “You come in and tell us you're going to marry Mr. Ditmar + just like you were talking about the weather.” + </p> + <p> + Hannah's eyes filled with tears. There had been indeed an unconscious lack + of consideration in Janet's abrupt announcement, which had fallen like a + spark on the dry tinder of Hannah's hope. The result was a suffocating + flame. Janet, whom love had quickened, had a swift perception of this. She + rose quickly and took Hannah in her arms and kissed her. It was as though + the relation between them were reversed, and the daughter had now become + the mother and the comforter. + </p> + <p> + “I always knew something like this would happen!” said Edward. His words + incited Hannah to protest. + </p> + <p> + “You didn't anything of the kind, Edward Bumpus,” she exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Just to think of Janet livin' in that big house up in Warren Street!” he + went on, unheeding, jubilant. “You'll drop in and see the old people once + in a while, Janet, you won't forget us?” + </p> + <p> + “I wish you wouldn't talk like that, father,” said Janet. + </p> + <p> + “Well, he's a fine man, Claude Ditmar, I always said that. The way he + stops and talks to me when he passes the gate—” + </p> + <p> + “That doesn't make him a good man,” Hannah declared, and added: “If he + wasn't a good man, Janet wouldn't be marrying him.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know whether he's good or not,” said Janet. + </p> + <p> + “That's so, too,” observed Hannah, approvingly. “We can't any of us tell + till we've tried 'em, and then it's too late to change. I'd like to see + him, but I guess he wouldn't care to come down here to Fillmore Street.” + The difference between Ditmar's social and economic standing and their own + suggested appalling complications to her mind. “I suppose I won't get a + sight of him till after you're married, and not much then.” + </p> + <p> + “There's plenty of time to think about that, mother,” answered Janet. + </p> + <p> + “I'd want to have everything decent and regular,” Hannah insisted. “We may + be poor, but we come of good stock, as your father says.” + </p> + <p> + “It'll be all right—Mr. Ditmar will behave like a gentleman,” Edward + assured her. + </p> + <p> + “I thought I ought to tell you about it,” Janet said, “but you mustn't + mention it, yet, not even to Lise. Lise will talk. Mr. Ditmar's very busy + now,—he hasn't made any plans.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish Lise could get married!” exclaimed Hannah, irrelevantly. “She's + been acting so queer lately, she's not been herself at all.” + </p> + <p> + “Now there you go, borrowing trouble, mother,” Edward exclaimed. He could + not take his eyes from Janet, but continued to regard her with + benevolence. “Lise'll get married some day. I don't suppose we can expect + another Mr. Ditmar....” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Hannah, presently, “there's no use sitting up all night.” She + rose and kissed Janet again. “I just can't believe it,” she declared, “but + I guess it's so if you say it is.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course it's so,” said Edward. + </p> + <p> + “I so want you should be happy, Janet,” said Hannah.... + </p> + <p> + Was it so? Her mother and father, the dwarfed and ugly surroundings of + Fillmore Street made it seem incredible once more. And—what would + they say if they knew what had happened to her this day? When she had + reached her room, Janet began to wonder why she had told her parents. Had + it not been in order to relieve their anxiety—especially her + mother's—on the score of her recent absences from home? Yes, that + was it, and because the news would make them happy. And then the mere + assertion to them that she was to marry Ditmar helped to make it more real + to herself. But, now that reality was fading again, she was unable to + bring it within the scope of her imagination, her mind refused to hold one + remembered circumstance long enough to coordinate it with another: she + realized that she was tired—too tired to think any more. But despite + her exhaustion there remained within her, possessing her, as it were + overshadowing her, unrelated to future or past, the presence of the man + who had awakened her to an intensity of life hitherto unconceived. When + her head touched the pillow she fell asleep.... + </p> + <p> + When the bells and the undulating scream of the siren awoke her, she lay + awhile groping in the darkness. Where was she? Who was she? The discovery + of the fact that the nail of the middle finger on her right hand was + broken, gave her a clew. She had broken that nail in reaching out to save + something—a vase of roses—that was it!—a vase of roses + on a table with a white cloth. Ditmar had tipped it over. The sudden + flaring up of this trivial incident served to re-establish her identity, + to light a fuse along which her mind began to run like fire, illuminating + redly all the events of the day before. It was sweet to lie thus, to + possess, as her very own, these precious, passionate memories of life + lived at last to fulness, to feel that she had irrevocably given herself + and taken—all. A longing to see Ditmar again invaded her: he would + take an early train, he would be at the office by nine. How could she wait + until then? + </p> + <p> + With a movement that had become habitual, subconscious, she reached out + her hand to arouse her sister. The coldness of the sheets on the right + side of the bed sent a shiver through her—a shiver of fear. + </p> + <p> + “Lise!” she called. But there was no answer from the darkness. And Janet, + trembling, her heart beating wildly, sprang from the bed, searched for the + matches, and lit the gas. There was no sign of Lise; her clothes, which + she had the habit of flinging across the chairs, were nowhere to be seen. + Janet's eyes fell on the bureau, marked the absence of several + knick-knacks, including a comb and brush, and with a sudden sickness of + apprehension she darted to the wardrobe and flung open the doors. In the + bottom were a few odd garments, above was the hat with the purple feather, + now shabby and discarded, on the hooks a skirt and jacket Lise wore to + work at the Bagatelle in bad weather. That was all.... Janet sank down in + the rocking-chair, her hands clasped together, overwhelmed by the sudden + apprehension of the tragedy that had lurked, all unsuspected, in the + darkness: a tragedy, not of Lise alone, but in which she herself was + somehow involved. Just why this was so, she could not for the moment + declare. The room was cold, she was clad only in a nightdress, but surges + of heat ran through her body. What should she do? She must think. But + thought was impossible. She got up and closed the window and began to + dress with feverish rapidity, pausing now and again to stand motionless. + In one such moment there entered her mind an incident that oddly had made + little impression at the time of its occurrence because she, Janet, had + been blinded by the prospect of her own happiness—that happiness + which, a few minutes ago, had seemed so real and vital a thing! And it was + the memory of this incident that suddenly threw a glaring, evil light on + all of Lise's conduct during the past months—her accidental dropping + of the vanity case and the gold coin! Now she knew for a certainty what + had happened to her sister. + </p> + <p> + Having dressed herself, she entered the kitchen, which was warm, filled + with the smell of frying meat. Streaks of grease smoke floated + fantastically beneath the low ceiling, and Hannah, with the frying-pan in + one hand and a fork in the other, was bending over the stove. Wisps of her + scant, whitening hair escaped from the ridiculous, tightly drawn knot at + the back of her head; in the light of the flickering gas-jet she looked so + old and worn that a sudden pity smote Janet and made her dumb—pity + for her mother, pity for herself, pity for Lise; pity that lent a + staggering insight into life itself. Hannah had once been young, + desirable, perhaps, swayed by those forces which had swayed her. Janet + wondered why she had never guessed this before, and why she had guessed it + now. But it was Hannah who, looking up and catching sight of Janet's face, + was quick to divine the presage in it and gave voice to the foreboding + that had weighed on her for many weeks. + </p> + <p> + “Where's Lise?” + </p> + <p> + And Janet could not answer. She shook her head. Hannah dropped the fork, + the handle of the frying pan and crossed the room swiftly, seizing Janet + by the shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Is she gone? I knew it, I felt it all along. I thought she'd done + something she was afraid to tell about—I tried to ask her, but I + couldn't—I couldn't! And now she's gone. Oh, my God, I'll never + forgive myself!” + </p> + <p> + The unaccustomed sight of her mother's grief was terrible. For an instant + only she clung to Janet, then becoming mute, she sat down in the kitchen + chair and stared with dry, unseeing eyes at the wall. Her face twitched. + Janet could not bear to look at it, to see the torture in her mother's + eyes. She, Janet, seemed suddenly to have grown old herself, to have lived + through ages of misery and tragedy.... She was aware of a pungent odour, + went to the stove, picked up the fork, and turned the steak. Now and then + she glanced at Hannah. Grief seemed to have frozen her. Then, from the + dining-room she heard footsteps, and Edward stood in the doorway. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what's the matter with breakfast?” he asked. From where he stood he + could not see Hannah's face, but gradually his eyes were drawn to her + figure. His intuition was not quick, and some moments passed before the + rigidity of the pose impressed itself upon him. + </p> + <p> + “Is mother sick?” he asked falteringly. + </p> + <p> + Janet went to him. But it was Hannah who spoke. + </p> + <p> + “Lise has gone,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Lise—gone,” Edward repeated. “Gone where?” + </p> + <p> + “She's run away—she's disgraced us,” Hannah replied, in a + monotonous, dulled voice. + </p> + <p> + Edward did not seem to understand, and presently Janet felt impelled to + break the silence. + </p> + <p> + “She didn't come home last night, father.” + </p> + <p> + “Didn't come home? Mebbe she spent the night with a friend,” he said. + </p> + <p> + It seemed incredible, at such a moment, that he could still be hopeful. + </p> + <p> + “No, she's gone, I tell you, she's lost, we'll never lay eyes on her + again. My God, I never thought she'd come to this, but I might have + guessed it. Lise! Lise! To think it's my Lise!” + </p> + <p> + Hannah's voice echoed pitifully through the silence of the flat. So + appealing, so heartbroken was the cry one might have thought that Lise, + wherever she was, would have heard it. Edward was dazed by the shock, his + lower lip quivered and fell. He walked over to Hannah's chair and put his + hand on her shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “There, there, mother,” he pleaded. “If she's gone, we'll find her, we'll + bring her back to you.” + </p> + <p> + Hannah shook her head. She pushed back her chair abruptly and going over + to the stove took the fork from Janet's hand and put the steak on the + dish. + </p> + <p> + “Go in there and set down, Edward,” she said. “I guess we've got to have + breakfast just the same, whether she's gone or not.” + </p> + <p> + It was terrible to see Hannah, with that look on her face, going about her + tasks automatically. And Edward, too, seemed suddenly to have become aged + and broken; his trust in the world, so amazingly preserved through many + vicissitudes, shattered at last. He spilled his coffee when he tried to + drink, and presently he got up and wandered about the room, searching for + his overcoat. It was Janet who found it and helped him on with it. He + tried to say something, but failing, departed heavily for the mill. Janet + began to remove the dishes from the table. + </p> + <p> + “You've got to eat something, too, before you go to work,” said Hannah. + </p> + <p> + “I've had all I want,” Janet replied. + </p> + <p> + Hannah followed her into the kitchen. The scarcely touched food was laid + aside, the coffee-pot emptied, Hannah put the cups in the basin in the + sink and let the water run. She turned to Janet and seized her hands + convulsively. + </p> + <p> + “Let me do this, mother,” said Janet. She knew her mother was thinking of + the newly-found joy that Lise's disgrace had marred, but she released her + hands, gently, and took the mop from the nail on which it hung. + </p> + <p> + “You sit down, mother,” she said. + </p> + <p> + Hannah would not. They finished the dishes together in silence while the + light of the new day stole in through the windows. Janet went into her + room, set it in order, made up the bed, put on her coat and hat and + rubbers. Then she returned to Hannah, who seized her. + </p> + <p> + “It ain't going to spoil your happiness?” + </p> + <p> + But Janet could not answer. She kissed her mother, and went out, down the + stairs into the street. The day was sharp and cold and bracing, and out of + an azure sky the sun shone with dazzling brightness on the snow, which the + west wind was whirling into little eddies of white smoke, leaving on the + drifts delicate scalloped designs like those printed by waves on the sands + of the sea. They seemed to Janet that morning hatefully beautiful. In + front of his tin shop, whistling cheerfully and labouring energetically + with a shovel to clean his sidewalk, was Johnny Tiernan, the tip of his + pointed nose made very red by the wind. + </p> + <p> + “Good morning, Miss Bumpus,” he said. “Now, if you'd only waited awhile, + I'd have had it as clean as a parlour. It's fine weather for coal bills.” + </p> + <p> + She halted. + </p> + <p> + “Can I see you a moment, Mr. Tiernan?” + </p> + <p> + Johnny looked at her. + </p> + <p> + “Why sure,” he said. Leaning his shovel against the wall, he gallantly + opened the door that she might pass in before him and then led the way to + the back of the shop where the stove was glowing hospitably. He placed a + chair for her. “Now what can I be doing to serve you?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “It's about my sister,” said Janet. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Lise?” + </p> + <p> + “I thought you might know what man she's been going with lately,” said + Janet. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Tiernan had often wondered how much Janet knew about her sister. In + spite of a momentary embarrassment most unusual in him, the courage of her + question made a strong appeal, and his quick sympathies suspected the + tragedy behind her apparent calmness. He met her magnificently. + </p> + <p> + “Why,” he said, “I have seen Miss Lise with a fellow named Duval—Howard + Duval—when he's been in town. He travels for a Boston shoe house, + Humphrey and Gillmount.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid Lise has gone away with him,” said Janet. “I thought you might + be able to find out something about him, and—whether any one had + seen them. She left home yesterday morning.” + </p> + <p> + For an instant Mr. Tiernan stood silent before her, his legs apart, his + fingers running through his bristly hair. + </p> + <p> + “Well, ye did right to come straight to me, Miss Janet. It's me that can + find out, if anybody can, and it's glad I am to help you. Just you stay + here—make yourself at home while I run down and see some of the + boys. I'll not be long—and don't be afraid I'll let on about it.” + </p> + <p> + He seized his overcoat and departed. Presently the sun, glinting on the + sheets of tin, started Janet's glance straying around the shop, noting its + disorderly details, the heaped-up stovepipes, the littered work-bench with + the shears lying across the vise. Once she thought of Ditmar arriving at + the office and wondering what had happened to her.... The sound of a bell + made her jump. Mr. Tiernan had returned. + </p> + <p> + “She's gone with him,” said Janet, not as a question, but as one stating a + fact. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Tiernan nodded. + </p> + <p> + “They took the nine-thirty-six for Boston yesterday morning. Eddy Colahan + was at the depot.” + </p> + <p> + Janet rose. “Thank you,” she said simply. + </p> + <p> + “What are you going to do?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “I'm going to Boston,” she answered. “I'm going to find out where she is.” + </p> + <p> + “Then it's me that's going with you,” he announced. + </p> + <p> + “Oh no, Mr. Tiernan!” she protested. “I couldn't let you do that.” + </p> + <p> + “And why not?” he demanded. “I've got a little business there myself. I'm + proud to go with you. It's your sister you want, isn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what would you be doing by yourself—a young lady? How will + you find your sister?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think you can find her?” + </p> + <p> + “Sure I can find her,” he proclaimed, confidently. He had evidently made + up his mind that casual treatment was what the affair demanded. “Haven't I + good friends in Boston?” By friendship he swayed his world: nor was he + completely unknown—though he did not say so—to certain + influential members of his race of the Boston police department. Pulling + out a large nickel watch and observing that they had just time to catch + the train, he locked up his shop, and they set out together for the + station. Mr. Tiernan led the way, for the path was narrow. The dry snow + squeaked under his feet. + </p> + <p> + After escorting her to a seat on the train, he tactfully retired to the + smoking car, not to rejoin her until they were on the trestle spanning the + Charles River by the North Station. All the way to Boston she had sat + gazing out of the window at the blinding whiteness of the fields, + incapable of rousing herself to the necessity of thought, to a degree of + feeling commensurate with the situation. She did not know what she would + say to Lise if she should find her; and in spite of Mr. Tiernan's + expressed confidence, the chances of success seemed remote. When the train + began to thread the crowded suburbs, the city, spreading out over its + hills, instead of thrilling her, as yesterday, with a sense of dignity and + power, of opportunity and emancipation, seemed a labyrinth with many + warrens where vice and crime and sorrow could hide. In front of the + station the traffic was already crushing the snow into filth. They passed + the spot where, the night before, the carriage had stopped, where Ditmar + had bidden her good-bye. Something stirred within her, became a shooting + pain.... She asked Mr. Tiernan what he intended to do. + </p> + <p> + “I'm going right after the man, if he's here in the city,” he told her. + And they boarded a street car, which almost immediately shot into the + darkness of the subway. Emerging at Scollay Square, and walking a few + blocks, they came to a window where guns, revolvers, and fishing tackle + were displayed, and on which was painted the name, “Timothy Mulally.” Mr. + Tiernan entered. + </p> + <p> + “Is Tim in?” he inquired of one of the clerks, who nodded his head towards + the rear of the store, where a middle-aged, grey-haired Irishman was + seated at a desk under a drop light. + </p> + <p> + “Is it you, Johnny?” he exclaimed, looking up. + </p> + <p> + “It's meself,” said Mr. Tiernan. “And this is Miss Bumpus, a young lady + friend of mine from Hampton.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Mulally rose and bowed. + </p> + <p> + “How do ye do, ma'am,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I've got a little business to do for her,” Mr. Tiernan continued. “I + thought you might offer her a chair and let her stay here, quiet, while I + was gone.” + </p> + <p> + “With pleasure, ma'am,” Mr. Mulally replied, pulling forward a chair with + alacrity. “Just sit there comfortable—no one will disturb ye.” + </p> + <p> + When, in the course of half an hour, Mr. Tiernan returned, there was a + grim yet triumphant look in his little blue eyes, but it was not until + Janet had thanked Mr. Mulally for his hospitality and they had reached the + sidewalk that he announced the result of his quest. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I caught him. It's lucky we came when we did—he was just + going out on the road again, up to Maine. I know where Miss Lise is.” + </p> + <p> + “He told you!” exclaimed Janet. + </p> + <p> + “He told me indeed, but it wasn't any joy to him. He was all for bluffing + at first. It's easy to scare the likes of him. He was as white as his + collar before I was done with him. He knows who I am, all right he's heard + of me in Hampton,” Mr. Tiernan added, with a pardonable touch of pride. + </p> + <p> + “What did you say?” inquired Janet, curiously. + </p> + <p> + “Say?” repeated Mr. Tiernan. “It's not much I had to say, Miss Janet. I + was all ready to go to Mr. Gillmount, his boss. I'm guessing he won't take + much pleasure on this trip.” + </p> + <p> + She asked for no more details. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII + </h2> + <p> + Once more Janet and Mr. Tiernan descended into the subway, taking a car + going to the south and west, which finally came out of the tunnel into a + broad avenue lined with shabby shops, hotels and saloons, and long rows of + boarding—and rooming-houses. They alighted at a certain corner, + walked a little way along a street unkempt and dreary, Mr. Tiernan + scrutinizing the numbers until he paused in front of a house with a + basement kitchen and snow-covered, sandstone steps. Climbing these, he + pulled the bell, and they stood waiting in the twilight of a half-closed + vestibule until presently shuffling steps were heard within; the door was + cautiously opened, not more than a foot, but enough to reveal a woman in a + loose wrapper, with an untidy mass of bleached hair and a puffy face like + a fungus grown in darkness. + </p> + <p> + “I want to see Miss Lise Bumpus,” Mr. Tiernan demanded. + </p> + <p> + “You've got the wrong place. There ain't no one of that name here,” said + the woman. + </p> + <p> + “There ain't! All right,” he insisted aggressively, pushing open the door + in spite of her. “If you don't let this young lady see her quick, there's + trouble coming to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Who are you?” asked the woman, impudently, yet showing signs of fear. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind who I am,” Mr. Tiernan declared. “I know all about you, and I + know all about Duval. If you don't want any trouble you won't make any, + and you'll take this young lady to her sister. I'll wait here for you, + Miss Janet,” he added. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know nothing about her—she rented my room that's all I + know,” the woman replied sullenly. “If you mean that couple that came here + yesterday—” + </p> + <p> + She turned and led the way upstairs, mounting slowly, and Janet followed, + nauseated and almost overcome by the foul odours of dead cigarette smoke + which, mingling with the smell of cooking cabbage rising from below, + seemed the very essence and reek of hitherto unimagined evil. A terror + seized her such as she had never known before, an almost overwhelming + impulse to turn and regain the air and sunlight of the day. In the dark + hallway of the second story the woman knocked at the door of a front room. + </p> + <p> + “She's in there, unless she's gone out.” And indeed a voice was heard + petulantly demanding what was wanted—Lise's voice! Janet hesitated, + her hand on the knob, her body fallen against the panels. Then, as she + pushed open the door, the smell of cigarette smoke grew stronger, and she + found herself in a large bedroom, the details of which were instantly + photographed on her mind—the dingy claret-red walls, the crayon over + the mantel of a buxom lady in a decollete costume of the '90's, the + outspread fan concealing the fireplace, the soiled lace curtains. The bed + was unmade, and on the table beside two empty beer bottles and glasses and + the remains of a box of candy—suggestive of a Sunday purchase at a + drug store—she recognized Lise's vanity case. The effect of all + this, integrated at a glance, was a paralyzing horror. Janet could not + speak. She remained gazing at Lise, who paid no attention to her entrance, + but stood with her back turned before an old-fashioned bureau with a + marble top and raised sides. She was dressed, and engaged in adjusting her + hat. It was not until Janet pronounced her name that she turned swiftly. + </p> + <p> + “You!” she exclaimed. “What the—what brought you here?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Lise!” Janet repeated. + </p> + <p> + “How did you get here?” Lise demanded, coming toward her. “Who told you + where I was? What business have you got sleuthing 'round after me like + this?” + </p> + <p> + For a moment Janet was speechless once more, astounded that Lise could + preserve her effrontery in such an atmosphere, could be insensible to the + evils lurking in this house—evils so real to Janet that she seemed + actually to feel them brushing against her. + </p> + <p> + “Lise, come away from here,” she pleaded, “come home with me!” + </p> + <p> + “Home!” said Lise, defiantly, and laughed. “What do you take me for? Why + would I be going home when I've been trying to break away for two years? I + ain't so dippy as that—not me! Go home like a good little girl and + march back to the Bagatelle and ask 'em to give me another show standing + behind a counter all day. Nix! No home sweet home for me! I'm all for easy + street when it comes to a home like that.” + </p> + <p> + Heartless, terrific as the repudiation was, it struck a self-convicting, + almost sympathetic note in Janet. She herself had revolted against the + monotony and sordidness of that existence She herself! She dared not + complete the thought, now. + </p> + <p> + “But this!” she exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter with it?” Lise demanded. “It ain't Commonwealth Avenue, + but it's got Fillmore Street beat a mile. There ain't no whistles hereto + get you out of bed at six a.m., for one thing. There ain't no geezers, + like Walters, to nag you 'round all day long. What's the matter with it?” + </p> + <p> + Something in Lise's voice roused Janet's spirit to battle. + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter with it?” she cried. “It's hell—that's the matter + with it. Can't you see it? Can't you feel it? You don't know what it + means, or you'd come home with me.” + </p> + <p> + “I guess I know what it means as well as you do,” said Lise, sullenly. + “We've all got to croak sometime, and I'd rather croak this way than be + smothered up in Hampton. I'll get a run for my money, anyway.” + </p> + <p> + “No, you don't know what it means,” Janet repeated, “or you wouldn't talk + like that. Do you think this man will support you, stick to you? He won't, + he'll desert you, and you'll have to go on the streets.” + </p> + <p> + A dangerous light grew in Lise's eyes. + </p> + <p> + “He's as good as any other man, he's as good as Ditmar,” she said. + “They're all the same, to girls like us.” + </p> + <p> + Janet's heart caught, it seemed to stop beating. Was this a hazard on + Lise's part, or did she speak from knowledge? And yet what did it matter + whether Lise knew or only suspected, if her words were true, if men were + all alike? Had she been a dupe as well as Lise? and was the only + difference between them now the fact that Lise was able, without illusion, + to see things as they were, to accept the consequences, while she, Janet, + had beheld visions and dreamed dreams? was there any real choice between + the luxurious hotel to which Ditmar had taken her and this detestable + house? Suddenly, seemingly by chance, her eyes fell on the box of + drug-store candy from which the cheap red ribbon had been torn, and by + some odd association of ideas it suggested and epitomized Lise's Sunday + excursion with a mama hideous travesty on the journey of wonders she + herself had taken. Had that been heaven, and this of Lise's, hell?... And + was. Lise's ambition to be supported in idleness and luxury to be + condemned because she had believed her own to be higher? Did not both lead + to destruction? The weight that had lain on her breast since the siren had + awakened her that morning and she had reached out and touched the chilled, + empty sheets now grew almost unsupportable. + </p> + <p> + “It's true,” said Janet, “all men are the same.” + </p> + <p> + Lise was staring at her. + </p> + <p> + “My God!” she exclaimed. “You?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes-me,” cried Janet.—“And what are you going to do about it? Stay + here with him in this filthy place until he gets tired of you and throws + you out on the street? Before I'd let any man do that to me I'd kill him.” + </p> + <p> + Lise began to whimper, and suddenly buried her face in the pillow. But a + new emotion had begun to take possession of Janet—an emotion so + strong as to give her an unlookedfor sense of detachment. And the words + Lise had spoken between her sobs at first conveyed no meaning. + </p> + <p> + “I'm going to have a baby....” + </p> + <p> + Lise was going to have a child! Why hadn't she guessed it? A child! + Perhaps she, Janet, would have a child! This enlightenment as to Lise's + condition and the possibility it suggested in regard to herself brought + with it an overwhelming sympathy which at first she fiercely resented then + yielded to. The bond between them, instead of snapping, had inexplicably + strengthened. And Lise, despite her degradation, was more than ever her + sister! Forgetting her repugnance to the bed, Janet sat down beside Lise + and put an arm around her. + </p> + <p> + “He said he'd marry me, he swore he was rich—and he was a spender + all right. And then some guy came up to me one night at Gruber's and told + me he was married already.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” Janet exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Sure! He's got a wife and two kids here in Boston. That was a twenty-one + round knockout! Maybe I didn't have something to tell him when he blew + into Hampton last Friday! But he said he couldn't help it—he loved + me.” Lise sat up, seemingly finding relief in the relation of her wrongs, + dabbing her eyes with a cheap lace handkerchief. “Well, while he'd been + away—this thing came. I didn't know what was the matter at first, + and when I found out I was scared to death, I was ready to kill myself. + When I told him he was scared too, and then he said he'd fix it. Say, I + was a goat to think he'd marry me!” Lise laughed hysterically. + </p> + <p> + “And then—” Janet spoke with difficulty, “and then you came down + here?” + </p> + <p> + “I told him he'd have to see me through, I'd start something if he didn't. + Say, he almost got down on his knees, right there in Gruber's! But he came + back inside of ten seconds—he's a jollier, for sure, he was right + there with the goods, it was because he loved me, he couldn't help + himself, I was his cutie, and all that kind of baby talk.” + </p> + <p> + Lise's objective manner of speaking about her seducer amazed Janet. + </p> + <p> + “Do you love him?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Say, what is love?” Lise demanded. “Do you ever run into it outside of + the movies? Do I love him? Well, he's a good looker and a fancy dresser, + he ain't a tight wad, and he can start a laugh every minute. If he hadn't + put it over on me I wouldn't have been so sore. I don't know he ain't so + bad. He's weak, that's the trouble with him.” + </p> + <p> + This was the climax! Lise's mental processes, her tendency to pass from + wild despair to impersonal comment, her inability, her courtesan's + temperament that prevented her from realizing tragedy for more than a + moment at a time—even though the tragedy were her own—were + incomprehensible to Janet. + </p> + <p> + “Get on to this,” Lise adjured her. “When I first was acquainted with him + he handed me a fairy tale that he was taking five thousand a year from + Humphrey and Gillmount, he was going into the firm. He had me + razzle-dazzled. He's some hypnotizes as a salesman, too, they say. Nothing + was too good for me; I saw myself with a house on the avenue shopping in a + limousine. Well, he blew up, but I can't help liking him.” + </p> + <p> + “Liking him!” cried Janet passionately. “I'd kill him that's what I'd do.” + </p> + <p> + Lise regarded her with unwilling admiration. + </p> + <p> + “That's where you and me is different,” she declared. “I wish I was like + that, but I ain't. And where would I come in? Now you're wise why I can't + go back to Hampton. Even if I was stuck on the burg and cryin' my eyes out + for the Bagatelle I couldn't go back.” + </p> + <p> + “What are you going to do?” Janet demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Lise, “he's come across—I'll say that for him. Maybe + it's because he's scared, but he's stuck on me, too. When you dropped in I + was just going down town to get a pair of patent leathers, these are all + wore out,” she explained, twisting her foot, “they ain't fit for Boston. + And I thought of lookin' at blouses—there's a sale on I was reading + about in the paper. Say, it's great to be on easy street, to be able to + stay in bed until you're good and ready to get up and go shopping, to gaze + at the girls behind the counter and ask the price of things. I'm going to + Walling's and give the salesladies the ha-ha—that's what I'm going + to do.” + </p> + <p> + “But—?” Janet found words inadequate. + </p> + <p> + Lise understood her. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'm due at the doctor's this afternoon.” + </p> + <p> + “Where?” + </p> + <p> + “The doctor's. Don't you get me?—it's a private hospital.” Lise gave + a slight shudder at the word, but instantly recovered her sang-froid. + “Howard fixed it up yesterday—and they say it ain't very bad if you + take it early.” + </p> + <p> + For a space Janet was too profoundly shocked to reply. + </p> + <p> + “Lise! That's a crime!” she cried. + </p> + <p> + “Crime, nothing!” retorted Lise, and immediately became indignant. “Say, I + sometimes wonder how you could have lived all these years without catching + on to a few things! What do you take me for! What'd I do with a baby?” + </p> + <p> + What indeed! The thought came like an avalanche, stripping away the veneer + of beauty from the face of the world, revealing the scarred rock and + crushed soil beneath. This was reality! What right had society to compel a + child to be born to degradation and prostitution? to beget, perhaps, other + children of suffering? Were not she and Lise of the exploited, of those + duped and tempted by the fair things the more fortunate enjoyed unscathed? + And now, for their natural cravings, their family must be disgraced, they + must pay the penalty of outcasts! Neither Lise nor she had had a chance. + She saw that, now. The scorching revelation of life's injustice lighted + within her the fires of anarchy and revenge. Lise, other women might + submit tamely to be crushed, might be lulled and drugged by bribes: she + would not. A wild desire seized her to get back to Hampton. + </p> + <p> + “Give me the address of the hospital,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Come off!” cried Lise, in angry bravado. “Do you think I'm going to let + you butt into this? I guess you've got enough to do to look out for your + own business.” + </p> + <p> + Janet produced a pencil from her bag, and going to the table tore off a + piece of the paper in which had been wrapped the candy box. + </p> + <p> + “Give me the address,” she insisted. + </p> + <p> + “Say, what are you going to do?” + </p> + <p> + “I want to know where you are, in case anything happens to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Anything happens! What do you mean?” Janet's words had frightened Lise, + the withdrawal of Janet's opposition bewildered her. But above all, she + was cowed by the sudden change in Janet herself, by the attitude of steely + determination eloquent of an animus persons of Lise's type are incapable + of feeling, and which to them is therefore incomprehensible. “Nothing's + going to happen to me,” she whined. “The place is all right—he'd be + scared to send me there if it wasn't. It costs something, too. Say, you + ain't going to tell 'em at home?” she cried with a fresh access of alarm. + </p> + <p> + “If you do as I say, I won't tell anybody,” Janet replied, in that odd, + impersonal tone her voice had acquired. “You must write me as soon—as + soon as it is over. Do you understand?” + </p> + <p> + “Honest to God I will,” Lise assured her. + </p> + <p> + “And you mustn't come back to a house like this.” + </p> + <p> + “Where'll I go?” Lise asked. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. We'll find out when the time comes,” said Janet, + significantly. + </p> + <p> + “You've seen him!” Lise exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Janet, “and I don't want to see him unless I have to. Mr. + Tiernan has seen him. Mr. Tiernan is downstairs now, waiting for me.” + </p> + <p> + “Johnny Tiernan! Is Johnny Tiernan downstairs?” + </p> + <p> + Janet wrote the address, and thrust the slip of paper in her bag. + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye, Lise,” she said. “I'll come down again I'll come down whenever + you want me.” Lise suddenly seized her and clung to her, sobbing. For a + while Janet submitted, and then, kissing her, gently detached herself. She + felt, indeed, pity for Lise, but something within her seemed to have + hardened—something that pity could not melt, possessing her and + thrusting heron to action. She knew not what action. So strong was this + thing that it overcame and drove off the evil spirits of that darkened + house as she descended the stairs to join Mr. Tiernan, who opened the door + for her to pass out. Once in the street, she breathed deeply of the sunlit + air. Nor did she observe Mr. Tiernan's glance of comprehension.... When + they arrived at the North Station he said:—“You'll be wanting a bite + of dinner, Miss Janet,” and as she shook her head he did not press her to + eat. He told her that a train for Hampton left in ten minutes. “I think + I'll stay in Boston the rest of the day, as long as I'm here,” he added. + </p> + <p> + She remembered that she had not thanked him, she took his hand, but he cut + her short. + </p> + <p> + “It's glad I was to help you,” he assured her. “And if there's anything + more I can do, Miss Janet, you'll be letting me know—you'll call on + Johnny Tiernan, won't you?” + </p> + <p> + He left her at the gate. He had intruded with no advice, he had offered no + comment that she had come downstairs alone, without Lise. His confidence + in her seemed never to have wavered. He had respected, perhaps partly + imagined her feelings, and in spite of these now a sense of gratitude to + him stole over her, mitigating the intensity of their bitterness. Mr. + Tiernan alone seemed stable in a chaotic world. He was a man. + </p> + <p> + No sooner was she in the train, however, than she forgot Mr. Tiernan + utterly. Up to the present the mental process of dwelling upon her own + experience of the last three months had been unbearable, but now she was + able to take a fearful satisfaction in the evolving of parallels between + her case and Lise's. Despite the fact that the memories she had cherished + were now become hideous things, she sought to drag them forth and compare + them, ruthlessly, with what must have been the treasures of Lise. Were her + own any less tawdry? Only she, Janet, had been the greater fool of the + two, the greater dupe because she had allowed herself to dream, to believe + that what she had done had been for love, for light! because she had not + listened to the warning voice within her! It had always been on the + little, unpremeditated acts of Ditmar that she had loved to linger, and + now, in the light of Lise's testimony, of Lise's experience, she saw them + all as false. It seemed incredible, now, that she had ever deceived + herself into thinking that Ditmar meant to marry her, that he loved her + enough to make her his wife. Nor was it necessary to summon and marshal + incidents to support this view, they came of themselves, crowding one + another, a cumulative and appalling array of evidence, before which she + stood bitterly amazed at her former stupidity. And in the events of + yesterday, which she pitilessly reviewed, she beheld a deliberate and + prearranged plan for her betrayal. Had he not telephoned to Boston for the + rooms, rehearsed in his own mind every detail of what had subsequently + happened? Was there any essential difference between the methods of Ditmar + and Duval? Both were skilled in the same art, and Ditmar was the cleverer + of the two. It had only needed her meeting with Lise, in that house, to + reveal how he had betrayed her faith and her love, sullied and besmirched + them. And then came the odd reflection,—how strange that that same + Sunday had been so fateful for herself and Lise! + </p> + <p> + The agony of these thoughts was mitigated by the scorching hatred that had + replaced her love, the desire for retaliation, revenge. Occasionally, + however, that stream of consciousness was broken by the recollection of + what she had permitted and even advised her sister to do; and though the + idea of the place to which Lise was going sickened her, though she + achieved a certain objective amazement at the transformation in herself + enabling her to endorse such a course, she was glad of having endorsed it, + she rejoiced that Lise's child would not be born into a world that had + seemed—so falsely—fair and sweet, and in reality was black and + detestable. Her acceptance of the act—for Lise—was a function + of the hatred consuming her, a hatred which, growing in bigness, had made + Ditmar merely the personification of that world. From time to time her + hands clenched, her brow furrowed, powerful waves of heat ran through her, + the craving for action became so intense she could scarcely refrain from + rising in her seat. + </p> + <p> + By some odd whim of the weather the wind had backed around into the east, + gathering the clouds once more. The brilliancy of the morning had given + place to greyness, the high slits of windows seemed dirtier than ever as + the train pulled into the station at Hampton, shrouded in Gothic gloom. As + she left the car Janet was aware of the presence on the platform of an + unusual number of people; she wondered vaguely, as she pushed her way + through them, why they were there, what they were talking about? One + determination possessed her, to go to the Chippering Mill, to Ditmar. + Emerging from the street, she began to walk rapidly, the change from + inaction to exercise bringing a certain relief, starting the working of + her mind, arousing in her a realization of the necessity of being prepared + for the meeting. Therefore, instead of turning at Faber Street, she + crossed it. But at the corner of the Common she halted, her glance drawn + by a dark mass of people filling the end of Hawthorne Street, where it was + blocked by the brick-coloured facade of the Clarendon Mill. In the middle + distance men and boys were running to join this crowd. A girl, evidently + an Irish-American mill hand of the higher paid sort, hurried toward her + from the direction of the mill itself. Janet accosted her. + </p> + <p> + “It's the strike,” she explained excitedly, evidently surprised at the + question. “The Polaks and the Dagoes and a lot of other foreigners quit + when they got their envelopes—stopped their looms and started + through the mill, and when they came into our room I left. I didn't want + no trouble with 'em. It's the fifty-four hour law—their pay's cut + two hours. You've heard about it, I guess.” + </p> + <p> + Janet nodded. + </p> + <p> + “They had a big mass meeting last night in Maxwell Hall,” the girl + continued, “the foreigners—not the skilled workers. And they voted + to strike. They tell me they're walking out over at the Patuxent, too.” + </p> + <p> + “And the Chippering?” asked Janet, eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know—I guess it'll spread to all of 'em, the way these + foreigners are going on—they're crazy. But say,” the girl added, “it + ain't right to cut our pay, either, is it? They never done it two years + ago when the law came down to fifty-six.” + </p> + <p> + Janet did not wait to reply. While listening to this explanation, + excitement had been growing in her again, and some fearful, overpowering + force of attraction emanating from that swarm in the distance drew her + until she yielded, fairly running past the rows of Italian tenements in + their strange setting of snow, not to pause until she reached the fruit + shop where she and Eda had eaten the olives. Now she was on the outskirts + of the crowd that packed itself against the gates of the Clarendon. It + spread over the width of East Street, growing larger every minute, until + presently she was hemmed in. Here and there hoarse shouts of approval and + cheers arose in response to invisible orators haranging their audiences in + weird, foreign tongues; tiny American flags were waved; and suddenly, in + one of those unforeseen and incomprehensible movements to which mobs are + subject, a trolley car standing at the end of the Hawthorne Street track + was surrounded, the desperate clanging of its bell keeping pace with the + beating of Janet's heart. A dark Sicilian, holding aloft the green, red, + and white flag of Italy, leaped on the rear platform and began to speak, + the Slav conductor regarding him stupidly, pulling the bellcord the while. + Three or four policemen fought their way to the spot, striving to clear + the tracks, bewildered and impotent in the face of the alien horde + momentarily growing more and more conscious of power. + </p> + <p> + Janet pushed her way deeper and deeper into the crowd. She wanted to + savour to the full its wrath and danger, to surrender herself to be played + upon by these sallow, stubby-bearded exhorters, whose menacing tones and + passionate gestures made a grateful appeal, whose wild, musical words, + just because they were uncomprehended, aroused in her dim suggestions of a + race-experience not her own, but in which she was now somehow summoned to + share. That these were the intruders whom she, as a native American, had + once resented and despised did not occur to her. The racial sense so + strong in her was drowned in a sense of fellowship. Their anger seemed to + embody and express, as nothing else could have done, the revolt that had + been rising, rising within her soul; and the babel to which she listened + was not a confusion of tongues, but one voice lifted up to proclaim the + wrongs of all the duped, of all the exploited and oppressed. She was fused + with them, their cause was her cause, their betrayers her betrayers. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly was heard the cry for which she had been tensely but + unconsciously awaiting. Another cry like that had rung out in another mob + across the seas more than a century before. “Ala Bastille!” became “To the + Chippering!” Some man shouted it out in shrill English, hundreds repeated + it; the Sicilian leaped from the trolley car, and his path could be + followed by the agitated progress of the alien banner he bore. “To the + Chippering!” It rang in Janet's ears like a call to battle. Was she + shouting it, too? A galvanic thrill ran through the crowd, an impulse that + turned their faces and started their steps down East Street toward the + canal, and Janet was irresistibly carried along. Nay, it seemed as if the + force that second by second gained momentum was in her, that she herself + had released and was guiding it! Her feet were wet as she ploughed through + the trampled snow, but she gave no thought to that. The odour of humanity + was in her nostrils. On the left a gaunt Jew pressed against her, on the + right a solid Ruthenian woman, one hand clasping her shawl, the other + holding aloft a miniature emblem of New World liberty. Her eyes were fixed + on the grey skies, and from time to time her lips were parted in some + strange, ancestral chant that could be heard above the shouting. All about + Janet were dark, awakening faces.... + </p> + <p> + It chanced that an American, a college graduate, stood gazing down from a + point of vantage upon this scene. He was ignorant of anthropology, + psychology, and the phenomena of environment; but bits of “knowledge”—which + he embodied in a newspaper article composed that evening stuck wax-like in + his brain. Not thus, he deplored, was the Anglo-Saxon wont to conduct his + rebellions. These Czechs and Slavs, Hebrews and Latins and Huns might have + appropriately been clad in the skins worn by the hordes of Attila. Had + they not been drawn hither by the renown of the Republic's wealth? And how + essentially did they differ from those other barbarians before whose + bewildered, lustful gaze had risen the glittering palaces on the hills of + the Tiber? The spoils of Rome! The spoils of America! They appeared to him + ferocious, atavistic beasts as they broke into the lumberyard beneath his + window to tear the cord-wood from the piles and rush out again, armed with + billets.... + </p> + <p> + Janet, in the main stream sweeping irresistibly down the middle of the + street, was carried beyond the lumberyard into the narrow roadway beside + the canal—presently to find herself packed in the congested mass in + front of the bridge that led to the gates of the Chippering Mill. Across + the water, above the angry hum of human voices could be heard the whirring + of the looms, rousing the mob to a higher pitch of fury. The halt was for + a moment only. The bridge rocked beneath the weight of their charge, they + battered at the great gates, they ran along the snow-filled tracks by the + wall of the mill. Some, in a frenzy of passion, hurled their logs against + the windows; others paused, seemingly to measure the distance and force of + the stroke, thus lending to their act a more terrible and deliberate + significance. A shout of triumph announced that the gates, like a broken + dam, had given way, and the torrent poured in between the posts, flooding + the yard, pressing up the towered stairways and spreading through the + compartments of the mill. More ominous than the tumult seemed the + comparative silence that followed this absorption of the angry spirits of + the mob. Little by little, as the power was shut off, the antiphonal + throbbing of the looms was stilled. Pinioned against the parapet above the + canal—almost on that very spot where, the first evening, she had met + Ditmar—Janet awaited her chance to cross. Every crashing window, + every resounding blow on the panels gave her a fierce throb of joy. She + had not expected the gates to yield—her father must have insecurely + fastened them. Gaining the farther side of the canal, she perceived him + flattened against the wall of the gatehouse shaking his fist in the faces + of the intruders, who rushed past him unheeding. His look arrested her. + His face was livid, his eyes were red with anger, he stood transformed by + a passion she had not believed him to possess. She had indeed heard him + give vent to a mitigated indignation against foreigners in general, but + now the old-school Americanism in which he had been bred, the Americanism + of individual rights, of respect for the convention of property, had + suddenly sprung into flame. He was ready to fight for it, to die for it. + The curses he hurled at these people sounded blasphemous in Janet's ears. + </p> + <p> + “Father!” she cried. “Father!” + </p> + <p> + He looked at her uncomprehendingly, seemingly failing to recognize her. + </p> + <p> + “What are you doing here?” he demanded, seizing her and attempting to draw + her to the wall beside him. But she resisted. There sprang from her lips + an unpremeditated question: “Where is Mr. Ditmar?” She was, indeed, amazed + at having spoken it. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” Edward replied distractedly. “We've been looking for him + everywhere. My God, to think that this should happen with me at the + gates!” he lamented. “Go home, Janet. You can't tell what'll happen, what + these fiends will do, you may get hurt. You've got no business here.” + Catching sight of a belated and breathless policeman, he turned from her + in desperation. “Get 'em out! Far God's sake, can't you get 'em out before + they ruin the machines?” + </p> + <p> + But Janet waited no longer. Pushing her way frantically through the people + filling the yard she climbed the tower stairs and made her way into one of + the spinning rooms. The frames were stilled, the overseer and second + hands, thrust aside, looked on helplessly while the intruders harangued, + cajoled or threatened the operatives, some of whom were cowed and already + departing; others, sullen and resentful, remained standing in the aisles; + and still others seemed to have caught the contagion of the strike. + Suddenly, with reverberating strokes, the mill bells rang out, the + electric gongs chattered, the siren screeched, drowning the voices. Janet + did not pause, but hurried from room to room until, in passing through an + open doorway in the weaving department she ran into Mr. Caldwell. He + halted a moment, in surprise at finding her there, calling her by name. + She clung to his sleeve, and again she asked the question:— + </p> + <p> + “Where's Mr. Ditmar?” + </p> + <p> + Caldwell shook his head. His answer was the same as Edward's. “I don't + know,” he shouted excitedly above the noise. “We've got to get this mob + out before they do any damage.” + </p> + <p> + He tore himself away, she saw him expostulating with the overseer, and + then she went on. These tower stairs, she remembered, led to a yard + communicating by a little gate with the office entrance. The door of the + vestibule was closed, but the watchman, Simmons, recognizing her, + permitted her to enter. The offices were deserted, silent, for the bells + and the siren had ceased their clamour; the stenographers and clerks had + gone. The short day was drawing to a close, shadows were gathering in the + corners of Ditmar's room as she reached the threshold and gazed about her + at the objects there so poignantly familiar. She took off her coat. His + desk was littered with books and papers, and she started, mechanically, to + set it in order, replacing the schedule books on the shelves, sorting out + the letters and putting them in the basket. She could not herself have + told why she should take up again these trivial tasks as though no + cataclysmic events had intervened to divide forever the world of yesterday + from that of to-morrow. With a movement suggestive of tenderness she was + picking up Ditmar's pen to set it in the glass rack when her ear caught + the sound of voices, and she stood transfixed, listening intently. There + were footsteps in the corridor, the voices came nearer; one, loud and + angered, she detected above the others. It was Ditmar's! Nothing had + happened to him! Dropping the pen, she went over to the window, staring + out over the grey waters, trembling so violently that she could scarcely + stand. + </p> + <p> + She did not look around when they entered the room Ditmar, Caldwell, + Orcutt, and evidently a few watchmen and overseers. Some one turned on the + electric switch, darkening the scene without. Ditmar continued to speak in + vehement tones of uncontrolled rage. + </p> + <p> + “Why in hell weren't those gates bolted tight?” he demanded. “That's what + I want to know! There was plenty of time after they turned the corner of + East Street. You might have guessed what they would do. But instead of + that you let 'em into the mill to shut off the power and intimidate our + own people.” He called the strikers an unprintable name, and though Janet + stood, with her back turned, directly before him, he gave no sign of being + aware of her presence. + </p> + <p> + “It wasn't the gatekeeper's fault,” she heard Orcutt reply in a tone + quivering with excitement and apprehension. “They really didn't give us a + chance—that's the truth. They were down Canal Street and over the + bridge before we knew it.” + </p> + <p> + “It's just as I've said a hundred times,” Ditmar retorted. “I can't afford + to leave this mill a minute, I can't trust anybody—” and he broke + out in another tirade against the intruders. “By God, I'll fix 'em for + this—I'll crush 'em. And if any operatives try to walkout here I'll + see that they starve before they get back—after all I've done for + 'em, kept the mill going in slack times just to give 'em work. If they + desert me now, when I've got this Bradlaugh order on my hands—” + Speech became an inadequate expression of his feelings, and suddenly his + eye fell on Janet. She had turned, but her look made no impression on him. + “Call up the Chief of Police,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Automatically she obeyed, getting the connection and handing him the + receiver, standing by while he denounced the incompetence of the + department for permitting the mob to gather in East Street and demanded + deputies. The veins of his forehead were swollen as he cut short the + explanations of the official and asked for the City Hall. In making an + appointment with the Mayor he reflected on the management of the city + government. And when Janet by his command obtained the Boston office, he + gave the mill treasurer a heated account of the afternoon's occurrences, + explaining circumstantially how, in his absence at a conference in the + Patuxent Mill, the mob had gathered in East Street and attacked the + Chippering; and he urged the treasurer to waste no time in obtaining a + force of detectives, in securing in Boston and New York all the operatives + that could be hired, in order to break the impending strike. Save for this + untimely and unreasonable revolt he was bent on stamping out, for Ditmar + the world to-day was precisely the same world it had been the day before. + It seemed incredible to Janet that he could so regard it, could still be + blind to the fact that these workers whom he was determined to starve and + crush if they dared to upset his plans and oppose his will were human + beings with wills and passions and grievances of their own. Until to-day + her eyes had been sealed. In agony they had been opened to the panorama of + sorrow and suffering, of passion and evil; and what she beheld now as life + was a vast and terrible cruelty. She had needed only this final proof to + be convinced that in his eyes she also was but one of those brought into + the world to minister to his pleasure and profit. He had taken from her, + as his weed, the most precious thing a woman has to give, and now that she + was here again at his side, by some impulse incomprehensible to herself—in + spite of the wrong he had done her!—had sought him out in danger, he + had no thought of her, no word for her, no use save a menial one: he cared + nothing for any help she might be able to give, he had no perception of + the new light which had broken within her soul.... The telephoning seemed + interminable, yet she waited with a strange patience while he talked with + Mr. George Chippering and two of the most influential directors. These + conversations had covered the space of an hour or more. And perhaps as a + result of self-suggestion, of his repeated assurances to Mr. Semple, to + Mr. Chippering, and the directors of his ability to control the situation, + Ditmar's habitual self-confidence was gradually restored. And when at last + he hung up the instrument and turned to her, though still furious against + the strikers, his voice betrayed the joy of battle, the assurance of + victory. + </p> + <p> + “They can't bluff me, they'll have to guess again. It's that damned + Holster—he hasn't any guts—he'd give in to 'em right now if + I'd let him. It's the limit the way he turned the Clarendon over to them. + I'll show him how to put a crimp in 'em if they don't turn up here + to-morrow morning.” + </p> + <p> + He was so magnificently sure of her sympathy! She did, not reply, but + picked up her coat from the chair where she had laid it. + </p> + <p> + “Where are you going?” he demanded. And she replied laconically, “Home.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait a minute,” he said, rising and taking a step toward her. + </p> + <p> + “You have an appointment with the Mayor,” she reminded him. + </p> + <p> + “I know,” he said, glancing at the clock over the door. “Where have you + been?—where were you this morning? I was worried about you, I—I + was afraid you might be sick.” + </p> + <p> + “Were you?” she said. “I'm all right. I had business in Boston.” + </p> + <p> + “Why didn't you telephone me? In Boston?” he repeated. + </p> + <p> + She nodded. He started forward again, but she avoided him. + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter?” he cried. “I've been worried about you all day—until + this damned strike broke loose. I was afraid something had happened.” + </p> + <p> + “You might have asked my father,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “For God's sake, tell me what's the matter!” + </p> + <p> + His desire for her mounted as his conviction grew more acute that + something had happened to disturb a relationship which, he had + congratulated himself, after many vicissitudes and anxieties had at last + been established. He was conscious, however, of irritation because this + whimsical and unanticipated grievance of hers should have developed at the + moment when the caprice of his operatives threatened to interfere with his + cherished plans—for Ditmar measured the inconsistencies of humanity + by the yardstick of his desires. Her question as to why he had not made + inquiries of her father added a new element to his disquietude. As he + stood thus, worried, exasperated, and perplexed, the fact that there was + in her attitude something ominous, dangerous, was slow to dawn on him. His + faculties were wholly unprepared for the blow she struck him. + </p> + <p> + “I hate you!” she said. She did not raise her voice, but the deliberate, + concentrated conviction she put into the sentence gave it the dynamic + quality of a bullet. And save for the impact of it—before which he + physically recoiled—its import was momentarily without meaning. + </p> + <p> + “What?” he exclaimed, stupidly. + </p> + <p> + “I might have known you never meant to marry me,” she went on. Her hands + were busy with the buttons of her coat. + </p> + <p> + “All you want is to use me, to enjoy me and turn me out when you get tired + of me—the way you've done with other women. It's just the same with + these mill hands, they're not human beings to you, they're—they're + cattle. If they don't do as you like, you turn them out; you say they can + starve for all you care.” + </p> + <p> + “For God's sake, what do you mean?” he demanded. “What have I done to you, + Janet? I love you, I need you!” + </p> + <p> + “Love me!” she repeated. “I know how men of your sort love—I've seen + it—I know. As long as I give you what you want and don't bother you, + you love me. And I know how these workers feel,” she cried, with sudden, + passionate vehemence. “I never knew before, but I know now. I've been with + them, I marched up here with them from the Clarendon when they battered in + the gates and smashed your windows—and I wanted to smash your + windows, too, to blow up your mill.” + </p> + <p> + “What are you saying? You came here with the strikers? you were with that + mob?” asked Ditmar, astoundedly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I was in that mob. I belong there, with them, I tell you—I + don't belong here, with you. But I was a fool even then, I was afraid + they'd hurt you, I came into the mill to find you, and you—and you + you acted as if you'd never seen me before. I was a fool, but I'm glad I + came—I'm glad I had a chance to tell you this.” + </p> + <p> + “My God—won't you trust me?” he begged, with a tremendous effort to + collect himself. “You trusted me yesterday. What's happened to change you? + Won't you tell me? It's nothing I've done—I swear. And what do you + mean when you say you were in that mob? I was almost crazy when I came + back and found they'd been here in this mill—can't you understand? + It wasn't that I didn't think of you. I'd been worrying about you all day. + Look at this thing sensibly. I love you, I can't get along without you—I'll + marry you. I said I would, I meant it I'll marry you just as soon as I can + clean up this mess of a strike. It won't take long.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't touch me!” she commanded, and he recoiled again. “I'll tell you + where I've been, if you want to know,—I've been to see my sister in—in + a house, in Boston. I guess you know what kind of a house I mean, you've + been in them, you've brought women to them,—just like the man that + brought her there. Would you marry me now—with my sister there? And + am I any different from her? You you've made me just like her.” Her voice + had broken, now, into furious, uncontrolled weeping—to which she + paid no heed. + </p> + <p> + Ditmar was stunned; he could only stare at her. + </p> + <p> + “If I have a child,” she said, “I'll—I'll kill you—I'll kill + myself.” + </p> + <p> + And before he could reply—if indeed he had been able to reply—she + had left the office and was running down the stairs.... + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV + </h2> + <p> + What was happening to Hampton? Some hundreds of ignorant foreigners, + dissatisfied with the money in their pay envelopes, had marched out of the + Clarendon Mill and attacked the Chippering and behold, the revered + structure of American Government had quivered and tumbled down like a pack + of cards! Despite the feverish assurances in the Banner “extra” that the + disturbance was merely local and temporary, solid citizens became panicky, + vaguely apprehending the release of elemental forces hitherto unrecognized + and unknown. Who was to tell these solid, educated business men that the + crazy industrial Babel they had helped to rear, and in which they + unconsciously dwelt, was no longer the simple edifice they thought it? + that Authority, spelled with a capital, was a thing of the past? that + human instincts suppressed become explosives to displace the strata of + civilization and change the face of the world? that conventions and + institutions, laws and decrees crumble before the whirlwind of human + passions? that their city was not of special, but of universal + significance? And how were these, who still believed themselves to be + dwelling under the old dispensation, to comprehend that environments + change, and changing demand new and terrible Philosophies? When night fell + on that fateful Tuesday the voice of Syndicalism had been raised in a + temple dedicated to ordered, Anglo-Saxon liberty—the Hampton City + Hall. + </p> + <p> + Only for a night and a day did the rebellion lack both a leader and a + philosophy. Meanwhile, in obedience to the unerring instinct for drama + peculiar to great metropolitan dailies, newspaper correspondents were + alighting from every train, interviewing officials and members of labour + unions and mill agents: interviewing Claude Ditmar, the strongest man in + Hampton that day. He at least knew what ought to be done, and even before + his siren broke the silence of the morning hours in vigorous and emphatic + terms he had informed the Mayor and Council of their obvious duty. These + strikers were helots, unorganized scum; the regular unions—by + comparison respectable—held aloof from them. Here, in effect, was + his argument: a strong show of force was imperative; if the police and + deputies were inadequate, request the Governor to call out the local + militia; but above all, waste no time, arrest the ringleaders, the + plotters, break up all gatherings, keep the streets clear. He demanded + from the law protection of his property, protection for those whose right + to continue at work was inalienable. He was listened to with sympathy and + respect—but nothing was done! The world had turned upside down + indeed if the City Government of Hampton refused to take the advice of the + agent of the Chippering Mill! American institutions were a failure! But + such was the fact. Some unnamed fear, outweighing their dread of the + retributions of Capital, possessed these men, made them supine, derelict + in the face of their obvious duty. + </p> + <p> + By the faint grey light of that bitter January morning Ditmar made his way + to the mill. In Faber Street dark figures flitted silently across the + ghostly whiteness of the snow, and gathered in groups on the corners; + seeking to avoid these, other figures hurried along the sidewalks close to + the buildings, to be halted, accosted, pleaded with—threatened, + perhaps. Picketing had already begun! The effect of this pantomime of the + eternal struggle for survivals which he at first beheld from a distance, + was to exaggerate appallingly the emptiness of the wide street, to + emphasize the absence of shoppers and vehicles; and a bluish darkness + lurked in the stores, whose plate glass windows were frosted in quaint + designs. Where were the police? It was not fear that Ditmar felt, he was + galvanized and dominated by anger, by an overwhelming desire for action; + physical combat would have brought him relief, and as he quickened his + steps he itched to seize with his own hands these foreigners who had dared + to interfere with his cherished plans, who had had the audacity to + challenge the principles of his government which welcomed them to its + shores. He would have liked to wring their necks. His philosophy, too, was + environmental. And beneath this wrath, stimulating and energizing it the + more, was the ache in his soul from the loss for which he held these + enemies responsible. Two days ago happiness and achievement had both been + within his grasp. The only woman—so now it seemed—he had ever + really wanted! What had become of her? What obscure and passionate impulse + had led her suddenly to defy and desert him, to cast in her lot with these + insensate aliens? A hundred times during the restless, inactive hours of a + sleepless night this question had intruded itself in the midst of his + scheming to break the strike, as he reviewed, word by word, act by act, + that almost incomprehensible revolt of hers which had followed so swiftly—a + final, vindictive blow of fate—on that other revolt of the workers. + At moments he became confused, unable to separate the two. He saw her fire + in that other.... Her sister, she had said, had been disgraced; she had + defied him to marry her in the face of that degradation—and this + suddenly had sickened him. He had let her go. What a fool he had been to + let her go! Had she herself been—! He did not finish this thought. + Throughout the long night he had known, for a certainty, that this woman + was a vital part of him, flame of his flame. Had he never seen her he + would have fought these strikers to their knees, but now the force of this + incentive was doubled. He would never yield until he had crushed them, + until he had reconquered her. + </p> + <p> + He was approaching one of the groups of strikers, and unconsciously he + slowed his steps. The whites of his eyes reddened. The great coat of + golden fur he wore gave to his aspect an added quality of formidableness. + There were some who scattered as he drew near, and of the less timorous + spirits that remained only a few raised dark, sullen glances to encounter + his, which was unflinching, passionately contemptuous. Throughout the + countless generations that lay behind them the instinct of submission had + played its dominant, phylogenetic role. He was the Master. The journey + across the seas had not changed that. A few shivered—not alone + because they were thinly clad. He walked on, slowly, past other groups, + turned the corner of West Street, where the groups were more numerous, + while the number of those running the gantlet had increased. And he heard, + twice or thrice, the word “Scab!” cried out menacingly. His eyes grew + redder still as he spied a policeman standing idly in a doorway. + </p> + <p> + “Why in hell don't you do your duty?” he demanded. “What do you mean by + letting them interfere with these workers?” + </p> + <p> + The man flinched. He was apologetic. “So long as they're peaceable, Mr. + Ditmar—those are my orders. I do try to keep 'em movin'.” + </p> + <p> + “Your orders? You're a lot of damned cowards,” Ditmar replied, and went + on. There were mutterings here; herded together, these slaves were bolder; + and hunger and cold, discouragement at not being able to stop the flow + toward the mills were having their effect. By the frozen canal, the scene + of the onslaught of yesterday, the crowd had grown comparatively thick, + and at the corner of the lodging-house row Ditmar halted a moment, + unnoticed save by a few who nudged one another and murmured. He gave them + no attention, he was trying to form an estimate of the effect of the + picketing on his own operatives. Some came with timid steps; others, + mostly women, fairly ran; still others were self-possessed, almost defiant—and + such he marked. There were those who, when the picketers held them by the + sleeve, broke precipitately from their annoyers, and those who hesitated, + listening with troubled faces, with feelings torn between dread of hunger + for themselves and their children and sympathy with the revolt. A small + number joined the ranks of the picketers. Ditmar towered above these + foreigners, who were mostly undersized: a student of human nature and + civilization, free from industrial complexes, would from that point of + vantage have had much to gather from the expressions coming within his + view, but to Ditmar humanity was a means to an end. Suddenly, from the + cupolas above the battlement of the mill, the bells shattered the early + morning air, the remnant of the workers hastened across the canal and + through the guarded gates, which were instantly closed. Ditmar was left + alone among the strikers. As he moved toward the bridge they made a lane + for him to pass; one or two he thrust out of his way. But there were + mutterings, and from the sidewalk he heard a man curse him. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps we shall understand some day that the social body, also, is + subject to the operation of cause and effect. It was not what an ingenuous + orthodoxy, keeping alive the fate of the ancient city from which Lot fled, + would call the wrath of heaven that visited Hampton, although a sermon on + these lines was delivered from more than one of her pulpits on the + following Sunday. Let us surmise, rather, that a decrepit social system in + a moment of lowered vitality becomes an easy prey to certain diseases + which respectable communities are not supposed to have. The germ of a + philosophy evolved in decadent Europe flies across the sea to prey upon a + youthful and vigorous America, lodging as host wherever industrial strife + has made congenial soil. In four and twenty hours Hampton had “caught” + Syndicalism. All day Tuesday, before the true nature of the affection was + developed, prominent citizens were outraged and appalled by the supineness + of their municipal phagocytes. Property, that sacred fabric of government, + had been attacked and destroyed, law had been defied, and yet the City + Hall, the sanctuary of American tradition, was turned over to the alien + mob for a continuous series of mass meetings. All day long that edifice, + hitherto chastely familiar with American doctrine alone, with patriotic + oratory, with perorations that dwelt upon the wrongs and woes of Ireland—part + of our national propaganda—all day long that edifice rang with + strange, exotic speech, sometimes guttural, often musical, but always + impassioned, weirdly cadenced and intoned. From the raised platform, in + place of the shrewd, matter-of-fact New England politician alive to the + vote—getting powers of Fourth of July patriotism, in place of the + vehement but fun-loving son of Erin, men with wild, dark faces, with + burning black eyes and unkempt hair, unshaven, flannel skirted—made + more alien, paradoxically, by their conventional, ready-made American + clothes—gave tongue to the inarticulate aspirations of the peasant + drudge of Europe. From lands long steeped in blood they came, from low + countries by misty northern seas, from fair and ancient plains of + Lombardy, from Guelph and Ghibelline hamlets in the Apennines, from + vine-covered slopes in Sicily and Greece; from the Balkans, from Caucasus + and Carpathia, from the mountains of Lebanon, whose cedars lined the + palaces of kings; and from villages beside swollen rivers that cross the + dreary steppes. Each peasant listened to a recital in his own tongue—the + tongue in which the folklore, the cradle sayings of his race had been + preserved—of the common wrongs of all, of misery still present, of + happiness still unachieved in this land of liberty and opportunity they + had found a mockery; to appeals to endure and suffer for a common cause. + But who was to weld together this medley of races and traditions, to give + them the creed for which their passions were prepared, to lead into battle + these ignorant and unskilled from whom organized labour held aloof? Even + as dusk was falling, even as the Mayor, the Hon. Michael McGrath, was + making from the platform an eloquent plea for order and peace, promising a + Committee of Arbitration and thinking about soldiers, the leader and the + philosophy were landing in Hampton. + </p> + <p> + The “five o'clock” edition of the Banner announced him, Antonio Antonelli, + of the Industrial Workers of the World! An ominous name, an ominous title,—compared + by a well-known publicist to the sound of a fire-bell in the night. The + Industrial Workers, not of America, but of the World! No wonder it sent + shivers down the spine of Hampton! The writer of the article in the Banner + was unfamiliar with the words “syndicalism” and “sabotage,” or the phrase + “direct action,” he was too young to know the history of the Knights, he + had never heard of a philosophy of labour, or of Sorel or Pouget, but the + West he had heard of,—the home of lawlessness, of bloodshed, rape, + and murder. For obvious reasons he did not betray this opinion, but for + him the I.W.W. was born in the West, where it had ravaged and wrecked + communities. His article was guardedly respectful, but he ventured to + remind his readers that Mr. Antonelli had been a leader in some of these + titanic struggles between crude labour and capital—catastrophes that + hitherto had seemed to the citizens of Hampton as remote as Kansas + cyclones.... + </p> + <p> + Some of the less timorous of the older inhabitants, curious to learn what + doctrine this interloper had to proclaim, thrust their way that evening + into the City Hall, which was crowded, as the papers said, “to + suffocation.” Not prepossessing, this modern Robespierre; younger than he + looked, for life had put its mark on him; once, in the days of severe work + in the mines, his body had been hard, and now had grown stout. In the eyes + of a complacent, arm-chair historian he must have appeared one of the + strange and terrifying creatures which, in times of upheaval, are thrust + from the depths of democracies to the surface, with gifts to voice the + longings and passions of those below. He did not blink in the light; he + was sure of himself, he had a creed and believed in it; he gazed around + him with the leonine stare of the conqueror, and a hush came over the hall + as he arose. His speech was taken down verbatim, to be submitted to the + sharpest of legal eyes, when was discovered the possession of a power—rare + among agitators—to pour forth in torrents apparently unpremeditated + appeals, to skirt the border of sedition and never transgress it, to weigh + his phrases before he gave them birth, and to remember them. If he said an + incendiary thing one moment he qualified it the next; he justified + violence only to deprecate it; and months later, when on trial for his + life and certain remarks were quoted against him, he confounded his + prosecutors by demanding the contexts. Skilfully, always within the limits + of their intelligence, he outlined to his hearers his philosophy and + proclaimed it as that of the world's oppressed. Their cause was his—the + cause of human progress; he universalized, it. The world belonged to the + “producer,” if only he had the courage to take possession of his own.... + </p> + <p> + Suddenly the inspirer was transformed into the man of affairs who calmly + proposed the organization of a strike committee, three members of which + were to be chosen by each nationality. And the resolution, translated into + many tongues, was adopted amidst an uproar of enthusiasm. Until that + moment the revolt had been personal, local, founded on a particular + grievance which had to do with wages and the material struggle for + existence. Now all was changed; now they were convinced that the + deprivation and suffering to which they had pledged themselves were not + for selfish ends alone, but also vicarious, dedicated to the liberation of + all the downtrodden of the earth. Antonelli became a saviour; they reached + out to touch him as he passed; they trooped into the snowy street, young + men and old, and girls, and women holding children in their arms, their + faces alight with something never known or felt before. + </p> + <p> + Such was Antonelli to the strikers. But to those staid residents of + Hampton who had thought themselves still to be living in the old New + England tradition, he was the genius of an evil dream. Hard on his heels + came a nightmare troop, whose coming brought to the remembrance of the + imaginative the old nursery rhyme:—“Hark! Hark! The dogs do bark, + The beggars are come to town.” + </p> + <p> + It has, indeed, a knell-like ring. Do philosophies tend also to cast those + who adopt them into a mould? These were of the self-same breed, + indubitably the followers of Antonelli. The men wore their hair long, + affected, like their leader, soft felt hats and loose black ties that fell + over the lapels of their coats. Loose morals and loose ties! The + projection of these against a Puritan background ties symbolical of + everything the Anglo-Saxon shudders at and abhors; of anarchy and mob + rule, of bohemia and vagabondia, of sedition and murder, of Latin + revolutions and reigns of terror; of sex irregularity—not of the + clandestine sort to be found in decent communities—but of free love + that flaunts itself in the face of an outraged public. For there were + women in the band. All this, and more, the invaders suggested—atheism, + unfamiliarity with soap and water, and, more vaguely, an exotic poetry and + art that to the virile of American descent is saturated with something + indefinable yet abhorrent. Such things are felt. Few of the older citizens + of Hampton were able to explain why something rose in their gorges, why + they experienced a new and clammy quality of fear and repulsion when, on + the day following Antonelli's advent, these strangers arrived from nowhere + to install themselves—with no baggage to speak of—in Hampton's + more modest but hitherto respectable hostelries. And no sooner had the + city been rudely awakened to the perilous presence, in overwhelming + numbers, of ignorant and inflammable foreigners than these turned up and + presumed to lead the revolt, to make capital out of it, to interpret it in + terms of an exotic and degenerate creed. Hampton would take care of itself—or + else the sovereign state within whose borders it was would take care of + it. And his Honour the Mayor, who had proclaimed his faith in the + reasonableness of the strikers, who had scorned the suggestions of + indignant inhabitants that the Governor be asked for soldiers, twenty-four + hours too late arranged for the assembly of three companies of local + militia in the armory, and swore in a hundred extra police. + </p> + <p> + The hideous stillness of Fillmore Street was driving Janet mad. What she + burned to do was to go to Boston and take a train for somewhere in the + West, to lose herself, never to see Hampton again. But—there was her + mother. She could not leave Hannah in these empty rooms, alone; and Edward + was to remain at the mill, to eat and sleep there, until the danger of the + strike had passed. A messenger had come to fetch his clothes. After + leaving Ditmar in the office of the mill, Janet crept up the dark stairs + to the flat and halted in the hallway. Through the open doorway of the + dining-room she saw Hannah seated on the horsehair sofa—for the + first time within memory idle at this hour of the day. Nothing else could + have brought home to her like this the sheer tragedy of their plight. + Until then Janet had been sustained by anger and excitement, by physical + action. She thought Hannah was staring at her; after a moment it seemed + that the widened pupils were fixed in fascination on something beyond, on + the Thing that had come to dwell here with them forever. + </p> + <p> + Janet entered the room. She sat down on the sofa and took her mother's + hand in hers. And Hannah submitted passively. Janet could not speak. A + minute might have passed, and the silence, which neither had broken, + acquired an intensity that to Janet became unbearable. Never had the room + been so still! Her glance, raised instinctively to the face of the + picture-clock, saw the hands pointing to ten. Every Monday morning, as far + back as she could recall, her father had wound it before going to work—and + to-day he had forgotten. Getting up, she opened the glass door, and stood + trying to estimate the hour: it must be, she thought, about six. She set + the hands, took the key from the nail above the shelf, wound up the + weight, and started the pendulum. And the sound of familiar ticking was a + relief, releasing at last her inhibited powers of speech. + </p> + <p> + “Mother,” she said, “I'll get some supper for you.” + </p> + <p> + On Hannah, these simple words had a seemingly magical effect. Habit + reasserted itself. She started, and rose almost briskly. + </p> + <p> + “No you won't,” she said, “I'll get it. I'd ought to have thought of it + before. You must be tired and hungry.” + </p> + <p> + Her voice was odd and thin. Janet hesitated a moment, and ceded. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'll set the dishes on the table, anyway.” + </p> + <p> + Janet had sought refuge, wistfully, in the commonplace. And when the meal + was ready she strove to eat, though food had become repulsive. + </p> + <p> + “You must take something, mother,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “I don't feel as if I ever wanted to eat anything again,” she replied. + </p> + <p> + “I know,” said Janet, “but you've got to.” And she put some of the cold + meat, left over from Sunday's dinner, on Hannah's plate. Hannah took up a + fork, and laid it down again. Suddenly she said:—“You saw Lise?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Janet. + </p> + <p> + “Where is she?” + </p> + <p> + “In a house—in Boston.” + </p> + <p> + “One of—those houses?” + </p> + <p> + “I—I don't know,” said Janet. “I think so.” + </p> + <p> + “You went there?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Tiernan went with me.” + </p> + <p> + “She wouldn't come home?” + </p> + <p> + “Not—not just now, mother.” + </p> + <p> + “You left her there, in that place? You didn't make her come home?” + </p> + <p> + The sudden vehemence of this question, the shrill note of reproach in + Hannah's voice that revealed, even more than the terrible inertia from + which she had emerged, the extent of her suffering, for the instant left + Janet utterly dismayed. “Oh mother!” she exclaimed. “I tried—I—I + couldn't.” + </p> + <p> + Hannah pushed back her chair. + </p> + <p> + “I'll go to her, I'll make her come. She's disgraced us, but I'll make + her. Where is she? Where is the house?” + </p> + <p> + Janet, terrified, seized her mother's arm. Then she said:—“Lise + isn't there any more—she's gone away.” + </p> + <p> + “Away and you let her go away? You let your sister go away and be a—a + woman of the town? You never loved her—you never had any pity for + her.” + </p> + <p> + Tears sprang into Janet's eyes—tears of pity mingled with anger. The + situation had grown intolerable! Yet how could she tell Hannah where Lise + was! + </p> + <p> + “You haven't any right to say that, mother!” she cried. “I did my best. + She wouldn't come. I—I can't tell you where she's gone, but she + promised to write, to send me her address.” + </p> + <p> + “Lise” Hannah's cry seemed like the uncomprehending whimper of a stricken + child, and then a hidden cadence made itself felt, a cadence revealing to + Janet with an eloquence never before achieved the mystery of mother love, + and by some magic of tone was evoked a new image of Lise—of Lise as + she must be to Hannah. No waywardness, no degradation or disgrace could + efface it. The infant whom Hannah had clutched to her breast, the woman, + her sister, whom Janet had seen that day were one—immutably one. + This, then, was what it meant to be a mother! All the years of deadening + hope had not availed to kill the craving—even in this withered body + it was still alive and quick. The agony of that revelation was scarcely to + be borne. And it seemed that Lise, even in the place where she was, must + have heard that cry and heeded it. And yet—the revelation of Lise's + whereabouts, of Lise's contemplated act Janet had nearly been goaded into + making, died on her lips. She could not tell Hannah! And Lise's child must + not come into a world like this. Even now the conviction remained, fierce, + exultant, final. But if Janet had spoken now Hannah would not have heard + her. Under the storm she had begun to rock, weeping convulsively.... But + gradually her weeping ceased. And to Janet, helplessly watching, this + process of congealment was more terrible even than the release that only + an unmitigated violence of grief had been able to produce. In silence + Hannah resumed her shrunken duties, and when these were finished sat + awhile, before going to bed, her hands lying listless in her lap. She + seemed to have lived for centuries, to have exhausted the gamut of + suffering which, save for that one wild outburst, had been the fruit of + commonplace, passive, sordid tragedy that knows no touch of fire.... + </p> + <p> + The next morning Janet was awakened by the siren. Never, even in the days + when life had been routine and commonplace, had that sound failed to + arouse in her a certain tremor of fear; with its first penetrating shriek, + terror invaded her: then, by degrees, overcoming her numbness, came an + agonizing realization of tragedy to be faced. The siren blew and blew + insistently, as though it never meant to stop; and now for the first time + she seemed to detect in it a note of futility. There were those who would + dare to defy it. She, for one, would defy it. In that reflection she found + a certain fierce joy. And she might lie in bed if she wished—how + often had she longed to! But she could not. The room was cold, appallingly + empty and silent as she hurried into her clothes. The dining-room lamp was + lighted, the table set, her mother was bending over the stove when she + reached the kitchen. After the pretence of breakfast was gone through + Janet sought relief in housework, making her bed, tidying her room. It was + odd, this morning, how her notice of little, familiar things had the power + to add to her pain, brought to mind memories become excruciating as she + filled the water pitcher from the kitchen tap she found herself staring at + the nick broken out of it when Lise had upset it. She recalled Lise's + characteristically flippant remark. And there was the streak in the + wall-paper caused one night by the rain leaking through the roof. After + the bed was made and the room swept she stood a moment, motionless, and + then, opening the drawer in the wardrobe took from it the rose which she + had wrapped in tissue paper and hidden there, and with a perverse desire + as it were to increase the bitterness consuming her, to steep herself in + pain, she undid the parcel and held the withered flower to her face. Even + now a fragrance, faint yet poignant, clung to it.... She wrapped it up + again, walked to the window, hesitated, and then with a sudden + determination to destroy this sole relic of her happiness went to the + kitchen and flung it into the stove. Hannah, lingering over her morning + task of cleaning, did not seem to notice the act. Janet turned to her. + </p> + <p> + “I think I'll go out for a while, mother,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “You'd ought to,” Hannah replied. “There's no use settin' around here.” + </p> + <p> + The silence of the flat was no longer to be endured. And Janet, putting on + her coat and hat, descended the stairs. Not once that morning had her + mother mentioned Lise; nor had she asked about her own plans—about + Ditmar. This at least was a relief; it was the question she had feared + most. In the street she met the postman. + </p> + <p> + “I have a letter for you, Miss Janet,” he said. And on the pink envelope + he handed her, in purple ink, she recognized the unformed, childish + handwriting of Lise. “There's great doings down at the City Hall,” the + postman added “the foreigners are holding mass meetings there.” Janet + scarcely heard him as she tore open the envelope. “Dear Janet,” the letter + ran. “The doctor told me I had a false alarm, there was nothing to it. + Wouldn't that jar you? Boston's a slow burg, and there's no use of my + staying here now. I'm going to New York, and maybe I'll come back when + I've had a look at the great white way. I've got the coin, and I gave him + the mit to-night. If you haven't anything better to do, drop in at the + Bagatelle and give Walters my love, and tell them not to worry at home. + There's no use trying to trail me. Your affectionate sister Lise.” + </p> + <p> + Janet thrust the letter in her pocket. Then she walked rapidly westward + until she came to the liver-coloured facade of the City Hall, opposite the + Common. Pushing through the crowd of operatives lingering on the pavement + in front of it, she entered the building.... + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Un poeta!” a woman beside her exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Who is he?” Janet asked. + </p> + <p> + “Rolfe,” said the woman. + </p> + <p> + “But he's an Italian?” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “You do not work in the mills?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “No, I'm a stenographer—or I was one.” + </p> + <p> + “And now?” + </p> + <p> + “I've given up my place.” + </p> + <p> + “You want to join us?” + </p> + <p> + “I was interested in what you said. I never heard anything like it + before.” + </p> + <p> + He looked at her intently. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid I shouldn't understand them,” Janet replied. “I've read so + little.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “But you have studied!” she exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You would take possession of the mills?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + She shivered, but was silent. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it is better!” she agreed. The passion in her voice did not escape + him. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “'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!” + </p> + <p> + Again she was silent. They had walked on, through familiar streets that + now seemed strange. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you say that?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + She did not know whether to resent or welcome his clairvoyance, his + assumption of intimacy, his air of appropriation. But her curiosity was + tingling. + </p> + <p> + “And you?” she asked. “Your name is Rolfe, isn't it?” + </p> + <p> + He assented. “And yours?” + </p> + <p> + She told him. + </p> + <p> + “You have been in America long—your family?” + </p> + <p> + “Very long,” she said. “But you speak Italian, and Rolfe isn't an Italian + name.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “An old master?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “And your father—did he paint beautiful pictures, too?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “The proletariat?” The word was new to Janet's ear. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + They were standing on a corner, under a street lamp. And she averted her + eyes from his glance. + </p> + <p> + “Then come to-morrow,” he said eagerly. “You know where Headquarters is, + in the Franco-Belgian Hall?” + </p> + <p> + “What could I do?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “You? You could help in many ways—among the women. Do you know what + picketing is?” + </p> + <p> + “You mean keeping the operatives out of the mills?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Cripple!” exclaimed Janet. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I see,” said Janet. + </p> + <p> + “You'll come to Headquarters?” Rolfe repeated. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I'll come, to-morrow,” she promised. + </p> + <p> + 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?... + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “You American—you comrade, you come to help?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “I've never done any picketing.” + </p> + <p> + “I showa you.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Move on, you can't sit here,” he said. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Why did you walk out?” asked Janet curiously. + </p> + <p> + “Why? I get mad when I know that my wages is cut. I want the money—I + get married.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that why you are striking?” asked Janet curiously. + </p> + <p> + “That is why—of course.” + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + The girl gave her a radiant smile. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “I was mad, too,” Janet replied simply. + </p> + <p> + “Revenge!” exclaimed the girl, glittering again. “I understan'. Here come + the scabs! Now I show you.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “I get her,” exclaimed Gemma, triumphantly. + </p> + <p> + “What did you say?” asked Janet. + </p> + <p> + “Listen—that she take the bread from our mouths, she is traditore—scab. + We strike for them, too, is it not so?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “I gotta right to work,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Not if others will starve because you work,” objected Janet. + </p> + <p> + “If I don't work I starve,” said the girl. + </p> + <p> + “No, the Committee will take care of you—there will be food for all. + How much do you get now?” + </p> + <p> + “Four dollar and a half.” + </p> + <p> + “You starve now,” Janet declared contemptuously. “The quicker you join us, + the sooner you'll get a living wage.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Mother!” she cried at last. + </p> + <p> + Hannah started. “Have you finished?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “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...” + </p> + <p> + 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 handcuffed 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. + </p> + <p> + “Cossacks! More Cossacks!” + </p> + <p> + 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.... + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + A man with a deputy's shield ran toward them. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “You've come to join us!” he exclaimed. “I thought I'd lost you.” + </p> + <p> + He bent closer to her that she might hear. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “But what can I do?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “I have been thinking. You said you were a stenographer—we need + stenographers, clerks. You will not be wasted. Come in here.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Sanders stopped counting his money long enough to grin at her. + </p> + <p> + “You will be welcome,” he said, in good English. “Stenographers are scarce + here. When can you come?” + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow morning,” answered Janet. + </p> + <p> + “Good,” he said. “I'll have a machine for you. What kind do you use?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm sure I shall,” she replied. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Now you are one of us!” he exclaimed. “You'll come to-morrow?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll come to-morrow,” she repeated, drawing away from him a little. + </p> + <p> + “And—we shall be friends?” + </p> + <p> + She nodded. “I must go now, I think.” + </p> + <p> + “Addio!” he said. “I shall look for you. For the present I must remain + here, with the Committee.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Haven't we met before?” he asked. “Or—can I be mistaken?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “In Silliston!” she exclaimed. “Why—what are you doing here?” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him and smiled, though his face was serious. + </p> + <p> + “You don't really like it, yourself,” she informed him. + </p> + <p> + “Now you're reflecting on my taste,” he declared. + </p> + <p> + “Oh no—it's because I saw the fence you were making. Is it finished + yet?” + </p> + <p> + “I put the last pineapple in place the day before Christmas. Do you + remember the pineapples?” + </p> + <p> + She nodded. “And the house? and the garden?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, those will never be finished. I shouldn't have anything more to do.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that—all you do?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You haven't even thought of me since,” she was moved to reply in the same + spirit. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Sometimes I hoped I might see you in Hampton,” she ventured. + </p> + <p> + “Well, here I am. I heard the explosion, and came.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Did I? perhaps I did,” he assented. “Maybe you suggested the idea.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You might have suggested the idea without intending to, you know. There + are certain people who inspire prophecies—perhaps you are one.” + </p> + <p> + His tone was playful, but she was quick to grasp at an inference—since + his glance was fixed on the red button she wore. + </p> + <p> + “You meant that I would explode, too!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “No difference,” he agreed, pleasantly, “no difference at all.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you sympathize with the strikers?” she insisted. “Or—are you + on the other side, the side of the capitalists?” + </p> + <p> + “I? I'm a spectator—an innocent bystander.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't sympathize with the workers?” she cried. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed I do. I sympathize with everybody.” + </p> + <p> + “With the capitalists?” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Isn't that a pretty good reason for sympathizing with them?” he inquired. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + For a moment she considered this. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + Almost in tears, she did not notice his puzzled yet sympathetic glance. + </p> + <p> + “The operatives, the workers create all the wealth, and the capitalists + take it from them, from their wives and children.” + </p> + <p> + “Now I know what you've been doing,” he said accusingly. “You've been + studying economics.” + </p> + <p> + Her brow puckered. + </p> + <p> + “Studying what?” + </p> + <p> + “Economics—the distribution of wealth. It's enough to upset + anybody.” + </p> + <p> + “But I'm not upset,” she insisted, smiling in spite of herself at his + comical concern. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “It wouldn't have done any good,” said Janet. + </p> + <p> + “No, I realized that.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “It's very simple,” he agreed, “much simpler than the book I read. That's + what they call syndicalism, isn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Rolfe converted you? I'll go to hear him.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I intend to,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + She could not have said why, but she felt a certain relief on hearing + this. + </p> + <p> + “Then you'll see for yourself!” she cried. “I guess that's what you've + come for, isn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, partly. To tell the truth, I've come to open a restaurant.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” she exclaimed, staring at him. “Then you really—” the sentence + remained unfinished. “I'm sorry,” she said simply. “You made me think—” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + She laughed tremulously as he took her hand. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 distinguished-looking 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Had the mill owners accepted their services? + </p> + <p> + The Chairman cleared his throat. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + A laugh went around the room. It was undoubtedly very difficult to keep + one's temper under such treatment. The Chairman looked it. + </p> + <p> + “A meeting would be arranged,” he declared, with a long-suffering + expression. He even smiled a little. “In the meantime—” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + 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.... + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + 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.... + </p> + <p> + 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 bibliotheque, 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. + </p> + <p> + “You must be hungry,” he said. “Come out with me and have some supper.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Where are you going?” Rolfe demanded. + </p> + <p> + “For a walk,” she said. “Aren't you coming?” + </p> + <p> + “Will you have supper afterwards?” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Who lives here” Rolfe asked. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Ditmar,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + “The agent of the Chippering Mill?” + </p> + <p> + She nodded. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Get rid of!” repeated Janet, in an odd voice. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Rolfe looked at her curiously. + </p> + <p> + “What do you know about him?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “I—I know all about him. I was his stenographer.” + </p> + <p> + “You! His stenographer! Then why are you herewith us?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “He tried to use you! You loved him!” + </p> + <p> + “How dare you say that!” + </p> + <p> + He fell back before her anger. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Where?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “At the Hampton—it is a little cafe where we all go. Perhaps you've + been there.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Janet. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I'll come,” she said.... + </p> + <p> + 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 camp-followers. 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. + </p> + <p> + “You must learn to live, to relax, to enjoy yourself,” he declared. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Then you don't believe in marriage?” she demanded, suddenly. + </p> + <p> + Rolfe laughed. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Italian is a beautiful language,” she exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “I will teach you Italian,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I want to learn—so much!” she sighed. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “But women—women are not like men. When once they give themselves + they do not so easily cease to love. They—they suffer.” + </p> + <p> + He did not seem to observe the bitterness in her voice. + </p> + <p> + “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....” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Her reply was listless. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing—except that I'm tired. I want to go home.” + </p> + <p> + “Not now,” he begged. “It's early yet.” + </p> + <p> + But she insisted.... + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + Dozens of hands were raised. + </p> + <p> + “I'm twenty-nine!” + </p> + <p> + “I'm three, mister!” + </p> + <p> + “I'm forty-one!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “This is my restaurant,” he said. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “You allow visitors?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, thrashing 'round, trying to connect with life—she's one of the + unfortunate unemployed.” + </p> + <p> + “Unemployed?” + </p> + <p> + “The idle rich,” he explained. “Perhaps you can give her a job—enlist + her in the I.W.W.” + </p> + <p> + “We don't want that kind,” Janet declared. + </p> + <p> + “Have pity on her,” he begged. “Nobody wants them—that's why they're + so pathetic.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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—?” + </p> + <p> + The lady took down her lorgnette and raised an appealing face. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “How hungry children eat, for instance?” he queried. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Brocklehurst focussed her attention on Janet, through the lorgnette, + but let it fall immediately, smiling on her brightly, persuasively. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid I don't know very much. Maybe you will tell me something, + first.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, certainly,” said Mrs. Brocklehurst, sweetly when she had got her + breath. + </p> + <p> + “Who is that man?” Janet asked. + </p> + <p> + “Whom do you mean—Mr. Insall?” + </p> + <p> + “Is that his name? I didn't know. I've seen him twice, but he never told + me.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, my dear, do you mean to say you haven't heard of Brooks Insall?” + </p> + <p> + “Brooks Insall.” Janet repeated the name, as her eyes sought his figure + between the tables. “No.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “What does he write about?” Janet asked. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, wild flowers and trees and mountains and streams, and birds and + humans—he has a wonderful insight into people.” + </p> + <p> + Janet was silent. She was experiencing a swift twinge of jealousy, of that + familiar rebellion against her limitations. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “But how did he happen to come here to Hampton—to be doing this?” + she asked. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “This place—it's not connected with any organization?” Janet + ejaculated. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “I'm only an employee at Strike Headquarters,” Janet replied, stiffening a + little despite the lady's importuning look—which evidently was + usually effective. + </p> + <p> + “You mean the I.W.W.?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile Insall had come up and seated himself below them on the edge of + the platform. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “You never can tell what factory girls do look like in these days,” she + observed mischievously. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Janet, after a slight pause, “I'm afraid you won't like it + much. Why do you want to know?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean, do I believe in votes for women? Yes, I suppose I do.” + </p> + <p> + “But you must,” declared Mrs. Brocklehurst, still sweetly, but with + emphasis. “You wouldn't be working, you wouldn't be striking unless you + did.” + </p> + <p> + “I've never thought about it,” said Janet. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You want a vote?” asked Janet, curiously, gazing at the pearl earrings. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly I want one.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” repeated Mrs. Brocklehurst. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. You must have everything you want.” + </p> + <p> + Even then the lady's sweet reasonableness did not desert her. She smiled + winningly, displaying two small and even rows of teeth. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “But you?” exclaimed Janet. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Brocklehurst continued to smile encouragingly, and murmured “Yes?” + </p> + <p> + “You are not a slave.” + </p> + <p> + A delicate pink, like the inside of a conch shell, spread over Mrs. + Brocklehurst's cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Janet had become genuinely interested. + </p> + <p> + “But what kind of liberty?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Here was altruism, truly! Here were words that should have inspired Janet, + yet she was silent. Mrs. Brocklehurst gazed at her solicitously. + </p> + <p> + “What are you thinking?” she urged—and it was Janet's turn to flush. + </p> + <p> + “I was just thinking that you seemed to have everything life has to give, + and yet—and yet you're not happy.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'm not unhappy,” protested the lady. “Why do you say that?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. You, too, seem to be wanting something.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Isn't that what you want—you who are striking?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “But surely,” exclaimed Mrs. Brocklehurst, “surely you want more than + that!” + </p> + <p> + Janet shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I've told you what we believe,” repeated Janet. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + Janet could not refrain from smiling. + </p> + <p> + “Let you starve, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Rolfe,” Janet corrected. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Insall smiled. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Horrid!” repeated Insall, “put it down to ignorance.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “So you'd like to exterminate Mrs. Brocklehurst?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + And Janet flushed. “Well, she forced me to say it.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it didn't hurt her,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “And it didn't help her,” Janet responded quickly. + </p> + <p> + “No, it didn't help her,” Insall agreed, and laughed. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “And what she wants, you've got,” he told her. + </p> + <p> + “What have I got?” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you'll find out, some day.” + </p> + <p> + “It may be too late,” she exclaimed. “If you'd only tell me, it might + help.” + </p> + <p> + “I think it's something you'll have to discover for yourself,” he replied, + more gravely than was his wont. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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..” + </p> + <p> + “I'd give anything to be an author!” she cried. + </p> + <p> + “It's a hard life,” he assured her. “We have to go about seeking + inspiration from others.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that why you came to Hampton?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, not exactly. It's a queer thing about inspiration, you only find it + when you're not looking for it.” + </p> + <p> + 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 personal and impersonal, friendly, + alight, evoking curiosity yet compelling trust. + </p> + <p> + “And you didn't tell me,” he reproached her, “that you were at I.W.W. + Headquarters.” + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I think I understand the strike,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “How? Have you seen it? Have you heard the arguments?” + </p> + <p> + “No. I've seen you. You've explained it.” + </p> + <p> + “To Mrs. Brocklehurst?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Now you're making fun of me!” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed I'm not,” he protested. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + And while she was pondering over this one of the ladies who had been + waiting on the table came toward Insall. + </p> + <p> + “The children have finished, Brooks,” she informed him. “It's time to let + in the others.” + </p> + <p> + Insall turned to Janet. “This is Miss Bumpus—and this is Mrs. + Maturin,” he said. “Mrs. Maturin lives in Silliston.” + </p> + <p> + The greeting of this lady differed from that of Mrs. Brocklehurst. She, + too, took Janet's hand. + </p> + <p> + “Have you come to help us?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + And Janet said: “Oh, I'd like to, but I have other work.” + </p> + <p> + “Come in and see us again,” said Insall, and Janet, promising, took her + leave.... + </p> + <p> + “Who is she, Brooks?” Mrs. Maturin asked, when Janet had gone. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he answered, “I don't know. What does it matter?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Maturin smiled. + </p> + <p> + “I should say that it did matter,” she replied. “But there's something + unusual about her—where did you find her?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “A history?” Mrs. Maturin queried. “Well, I needn't ask—it's written + on her face.” + </p> + <p> + “That's all I know,” said Insall. + </p> + <p> + “I'd like to know,” said Mrs. Maturin. “You say she's in the strike?” + </p> + <p> + “I should rather put it that the strike is in her.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean, Brooks?” + </p> + <p> + But Insall did not reply. + </p> + <p> + 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.... + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.... + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Wahna littel money for milk,” she said, when at length their attention + was drawn to her. + </p> + <p> + “But you get your money, every Saturday,” the secretary informed her + kindly. + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “Baby die, 'less I have littel milk—I show you.” + </p> + <p> + 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.... + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “She is killidd, my wife—de polees, dey killidd her!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “And how is the woman now?” asked Janet. + </p> + <p> + “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.”... + </p> + <p> + 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.... + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Working to-day?” + </p> + <p> + “Yah.” + </p> + <p> + “Work to-morrow?” + </p> + <p> + Hesitation. “I d'no.” + </p> + <p> + “You work, I cut your throat.” A significant noise. “Naw, I no work.” + </p> + <p> + “Shake!” + </p> + <p> + 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: + </p> + <p> + “Say, who are you working for? Me or the Wool Trust?” + </p> + <p> + “Aw, get along,” retorted the soldier, “or I'll give you yours.” + </p> + <p> + The man caught sight of Janet's button as she overtook him. He was walking + backward. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + 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.... + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.... + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII + </h2> + <p> + 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—” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + Pale, excited, he sank down into the chair by her side and lit another + cigarette. + </p> + <p> + “They ought to listen to that!” he exclaimed. “It's the best one I've done + yet.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Is that the end?” she asked, at length. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he replied sensitively. “Can't you see it's a climax? Don't you + think it's a good one?” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him, puzzled. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “When you feel, you can do anything,” he exclaimed. “It is necessary to + feel.” + </p> + <p> + “It is necessary to know,” she told him. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + She smiled, though she felt a pang of reminiscence at the word. Ditmar had + called her so, too. + </p> + <p> + “I can't help what I am,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “You don't believe what I say!” he reproached her. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “What others?” + </p> + <p> + “Nobody in particular—everybody,” she replied, as she set her + notebook on the rack. + </p> + <p> + “There is some one else!” he exclaimed, rising. + </p> + <p> + “There is every one else,” she said. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “When you've finished typewriting that, we'll go out to supper,” he told + her. + </p> + <p> + But she shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't want to,” she replied—and then, to soften her refusal, she + added, “I can't, to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “But you never will come with me anymore. Why is it?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm very tired at night. I don't feel like going out.” She sought to + temporize. + </p> + <p> + “You've changed!” he accused her. “You're not the same as you were at + first—you avoid me.” + </p> + <p> + The swift gesture with which she flung over the carriage of her machine + might have warned him. + </p> + <p> + “I don't like that Hampton Hotel,” she flashed back. “I'm—I'm not a + vagabond—yet.” + </p> + <p> + “A vagabond!” he repeated. + </p> + <p> + She went on savagely with her work.. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not sure I want to get over it.” + </p> + <p> + He leaned nearer to her. + </p> + <p> + “But now that I have found you, Janet, I will not let you go.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Then—why are you doing it?” His suspicions rose again, and made him + reckless. + </p> + <p> + “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.... + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “You come along with me, Marcus, I guess I can fit you out,” Insall was + saying, when he looked up and saw Janet. + </p> + <p> + “Why, if it isn't Miss Bumpus! I thought you'd forgotten us.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh no,” she protested. “I wanted to come.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why didn't you?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Those are summer shoes, Marcus—well ventilated.” + </p> + <p> + “They're by me since August,” said the boy. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + The boy nodded. He got to his feet, stared down at the shoes, and walked + slowly toward the door, where he turned. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Mister Insall,” he said. + </p> + <p> + And Insall, still sitting on his heels, waved his hand. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + When she saw the waifs trooping after him down the stairs, Mrs. Maturin + called him the Pied Piper of Hampton. + </p> + <p> + 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 + syndicalists 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Janet considered this. “I never thought of that. I suppose not,” she + agreed. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Maturin glanced at her. “So you liked Sflliston,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “What did you like about it, Janet?” Mrs. Maturin was interested. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I think you're expressing it rather well,” said Mrs. Maturin. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell the architect. He'll be pleased,” said Mrs. Maturin. + </p> + <p> + Janet flushed. + </p> + <p> + “Am I being silly?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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? + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Janet stood stock still. Then she said: “But you don't know anything about + me, Mrs. Maturin.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + “You do not believe in the Industrial Workers of the World,” was what she + said. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “But you must sympathize with them, with the strikers.” Janet's gesture + implied that the soup kitchen was proof of this. + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” replied Mrs. Maturin, gently, “that is different to understand them. + There is one philosophy for the lamb, and another for the wolf.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean,” said Janet, trembling, “that what happens to us makes us + inclined to believe certain things?” + </p> + <p> + “Precisely,” agreed Mrs. Maturin, in admiration. “But I must be honest + with you, it was Brooks who made me see it.” + </p> + <p> + “But—he never said that to me. And I asked him once, almost the same + question.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Not their fault!” Janet repeated. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Janet breathed deeply. She was thinking of Ditmar. + </p> + <p> + And Mrs. Maturin, regarding her, tactfully changed the subject. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “But why?” Janet demanded, bewildered. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “But—I've never read anything.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Maturin laughed. But Insall waved his hand deprecatingly. + </p> + <p> + “That isn't my own,” he confessed. “I cribbed it from a clever Englishman. + But I believe it's true.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “You might do worse. It would be a joke if you did—!” + </p> + <p> + His friend paused to consider this preposterous possibility. “One never + can tell whom a man like you, an artist, will marry.” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Dig up?” said Insall. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Now you're getting beyond me.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Did she say that?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps she was searching for light there,” Insall hazarded. “Why don't + you ask her?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I've noticed that, too,” said Insall, comically. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “There's my chance,” said Insall. + </p> + <p> + “No, it's my chance—since you're so cynical.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not cynical,” he protested. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Maturin laughed. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “What is right?” demanded Insall. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “You're preposterous, Augusta,” Insall exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Insall laid his hand affectionately on her shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it's an interesting theory,” Insall admitted indulgently. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX + </h2> + <p> + 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-hunting + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + She was certain, now, that the presage of the night was true.... + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “You ought to go home and rest, Janet,” she said kindly. + </p> + <p> + Janet shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not sick,” Janet repeated, and Anna reluctantly left her. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You have missed me, a little?” + </p> + <p> + “I have been busy,” she said, releasing her hand and sitting down at her + desk and taking up her notebook. + </p> + <p> + “You are not well,” he insisted. + </p> + <p> + “I'm all right,” she replied. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “I can't love—I can only hate,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + She dismissed this—what he had taught her—with a gesture + which, though slight, was all-expressive. He drew back from her. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Janet, too, had risen. + </p> + <p> + “I don't believe it,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I hate him!” said Janet. + </p> + <p> + “It is the same thing,” said Rolfe. + </p> + <p> + She did not answer.... He watched her in silence as she put on her hat and + coat and left the room. + </p> + <p> + 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.... + </p> + <p> + 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:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “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.” + </pre> + <p> + 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:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Arise, ye prisoners of starvation! + Arise, ye wretched of the earth!” + </pre> + <p> + And the refrain was taken up by hundreds of throats:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “'Tis the final conflict, + Let each stand in his place!” + </pre> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + “To hell with the Cossacks!” + </p> + <p> + “Kahm on—shoot!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.... + </p> + <p> + 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.... + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Is that you, Janet? You hain't seen anything of your father?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “He's at the mill, mother. You know he has to stay there.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “But he's safe where he is.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Why shouldn't you be here?” asked Janet, rather sharply. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Janet did not answer at once. + </p> + <p> + “I—I have to go out again, mother,” she said. + </p> + <p> + Hannah accepted the answer as she had accepted every other negative in + life, great and small. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I guessed you would.” + </p> + <p> + Janet made a step toward her. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “You can't get by here,” he said. “Don't you know that?” + </p> + <p> + She did not reply. He continued to look at her, and presently asked, in a + gentler tone:—“Where did you wish to go, lady?” + </p> + <p> + “Into the mill,” she replied, “to the offices.” + </p> + <p> + “But there can't anybody go through here unless they have a pass. I'm + sorry, but that's the order.” + </p> + <p> + Her answer came so readily as to surprise her. + </p> + <p> + “I was Mr. Ditmar's private stenographer. I have to see him.” + </p> + <p> + The sentry hesitated, and then addressed another soldier, who was near the + bridge. + </p> + <p> + “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 he said politely:—“I'm sorry, Miss, but I can't disobey + orders.” + </p> + <p> + “But can't you send word to Mr. Ditmar, and tell him I want to see him?” + she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Why, I guess so,” he answered, after a moment. “What name shall I say?” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Bumpus.” + </p> + <p> + “Bumpus,” he repeated. “That's the gatekeeper's name.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm his daughter—but I want to see Mr. Ditmar.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said the sergeant, “I'm sure it's all right, but I'll have to send + in anyway. Orders are orders. You understand?” + </p> + <p> + 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 fortress-like mass of the mill itself, and the blurred, + distorted lights in the paymaster's offices smeared on the white curtain + of the vapour. + </p> + <p> + “Nasty weather,” the sentry remarked, in friendly fashion. He appeared + now, despite his uniform, as a good-natured, ungainly youth. + </p> + <p> + Janet nodded. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” he repeated. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Don't touch me!” she said, shrinking from him. + </p> + <p> + “For God's sake tell me what's the matter,” he begged. + </p> + <p> + She looked up at him and tried to speak, struggling against the sobs that + shook her. + </p> + <p> + “I—I came here to—to kill you—only I can't do it.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + And again he had to wait for an answer. + </p> + <p> + “Because you've spoiled my life—because I'm going to have a child!” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean? Are you?... it can't be possible.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + “You planned it!” she replied vehemently, without looking up. “You didn't + care for me, you only—wanted me.” + </p> + <p> + “That isn't so—I swear that isn't so. I loved you I love you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, do you think I believe that?” she exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You'll never know how it hurt me!” she interrupted. + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + “They're no worse than you are—they only want what you've got,” she + said. + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Because you love me!” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Because I hate you,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + He winced. And the calmness she had regained, which was so characteristic + of her, struck him with a new fear. + </p> + <p> + “I'm not that kind of a man,” he said. + </p> + <p> + But she did not answer. His predicament became more trying. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “I love you, Janet,” he said. “I want you to marry me.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Not as bad!” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You must believe me! And the child, Janet,—our child—” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “I can't stay any longer,” she said, getting to her feet. “I can't bear + it.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Which way did that young lady go?” he demanders of the sergeant. + </p> + <p> + “Why—uh, West Street, Mr. Ditmar.” + </p> + <p> + He remembered where Fillmore 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.... + </p> + <p> + 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.... + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + 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.... + </p> + <p> + The sentry recognized her as she came along the canal. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Ditmar's gone,” he told her. + </p> + <p> + “Gone!” she repeated. “Gone!” + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes, about five minutes after you left he was looking for you—he + asked the sergeant about you.” + </p> + <p> + “And—he won't be back?” + </p> + <p> + “I guess not,” answered the man, sympathetically. “He said good-night.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me, but you didn't see that automobile,” he said, as he released + her. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Why, it's you!” he said, and suddenly she recalled his name. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Insall!” + </p> + <p> + 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.... + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Maturin, returning from an errand, paused for an instant in the + doorway, and ran forward and bent over Janet. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Brooks, what is it—what's happened to her?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” he replied, “I didn't have a chance to ask her. I'm going + for a doctor.” + </p> + <p> + “Leave her to me, and call Miss Hay.” Mrs. Maturin was instantly competent + .... 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?” + </p> + <p> + “Right away,” said Insall, and Mrs. Maturin went back into the storeroom. + Miss Hay brought the dry clothes before the physician arrived. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “I'll see to it at once,” said Insall.... + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX + </h2> + <p> + 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.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “I should like to rise and go + Where the golden apples grow”... +</pre> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Away down the river, + A hundred miles or more, + Other little children + Shall bring my boats ashore.”... +</pre> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.... + </p> + <p> + 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 enthusiasms, 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.... + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.... + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Our invalid!” Insall retorted. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “How is she?” Insall asked. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You ought to be able to get at it, if any one can,” said Insall. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “And you spoke of Mr. Ditmar's death?” Insall inquired. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “How did she take it?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “She didn't say anything?” + </p> + <p> + “Not a word.” + </p> + <p> + “Didn't you know that, before the strike, she was Ditmar's private + stenographer?” + </p> + <p> + “No!” Augusta Maturin exclaimed. “Why didn't you tell me?” + </p> + <p> + “It never occurred to me to tell you,” Insall replied. + </p> + <p> + “That must have something to do with it!” said Mrs. Maturin. + </p> + <p> + Insall got up and walked to the end of the terrace, gazing at a bluebird + on the edge of the lawn. + </p> + <p> + “Well, not necessarily,” he said, after a while. “Did you ever find out + anything about her family?” + </p> + <p> + “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 Chippering Mills!” + </p> + <p> + “A gatekeeper?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “He didn't tell you why his daughter had joined the strikers?” Insall + asked. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “It's curious he didn't mention her having been Ditmar's stenographer,” + Insall put in. “Was that reticence?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I have approved of her—that's the trouble.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Maturin regarded him for a moment in silence. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Did I think of them?” + </p> + <p> + “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, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Other little children + Shall bring my boats ashore.” + </pre> + <p> + That particular application just suddenly, occurred to me, but she + inspired it.” + </p> + <p> + “You're a born schoolma'am,” Insall laughed. + </p> + <p> + “I'm much too radical for a schoolmam,” 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:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 'Here, where the moors stretch free + In the high blue afternoon, + Are the marching sun and the talking sea.' +</pre> + <p> + and those last lines:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + '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?'” + </pre> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” Insall asked. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I think I'll go back to Maine,” Insall exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “If you desert me, I shall never speak to you again,” said Mrs. Maturin. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Janet's eyes were suddenly bright with tears. + </p> + <p> + “You'll stay?” + </p> + <p> + “I can't,” answered Janet. “I couldn't.” + </p> + <p> + “But why not? Have you any other plans?” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + It was a moment before Augusta Maturin could answer her. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Presently Janet said, “I'm going to have a child.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Maturin sat very still. Something closed in her throat, preventing + her immediate reply. + </p> + <p> + “I, too, had a child, my dear,” she answered. “I lost her.” She felt the + girl's clasp tighten on her fingers. + </p> + <p> + “But you—you had a right to it—you were married. Children are + sacred things,” said Augusta Maturin. + </p> + <p> + “Sacred! Could it be that a woman like Mrs. Maturity thought that this + child which was coming to her was sacred, too? + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + Augusta Maturity inclined her head. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “It was Mr. Ditmar.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps it will help you to tell me about it, Janet.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Augusta Maturity nodded, and waited. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “But—you loved him?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “And you refused!” exclaimed Mrs. Maturity. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “One never knows!” Augusta Maturity murmured. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm thankful you did come to us!” Augusta Maturin managed to reply. + </p> + <p> + “You mean—?” Janet exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mrs. Maturin!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “That is beautiful,” said Janet at length. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “But—how?” Janet exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mrs. Maturin—if you really want me—still?” + </p> + <p> + “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.... + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 + a-shimmer 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.... + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Brooks,” she would say, “you've just got to suggest something to put + in that border to replace the hyacinths.” + </p> + <p> + “I had larkspur last year—you remember—and it looked like a + chromo in a railroad folder.” + </p> + <p> + “Let me see—did I advise larkspur?” he would ask. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Oriental poppies! How stupid of me not to think of them!” + </p> + <p> + “How stupid of me!” Insall echoed—and Janet, bending over her + weeding, made sure they had been in his mind all the while. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + Insall would escort her home to Mrs. Case's boarding house.... + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Something you've written?” she exclaimed, blushing with pleasure and + surprise. He was actually confiding to her one of his manuscripts! + </p> + <p> + “Well—yes,” he replied comically, eyeing her. + </p> + <p> + “I'll be very careful with it. I'll do it right away.” + </p> + <p> + “There's no particular hurry,” he assured her. “The editor's waited six + months for it—another month or so won't matter.” + </p> + <p> + “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 dark-background 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 man-made 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + And, despite her eagerness and excitement, she laughed. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't dare to leave this in the house,” she explained. “Mrs. Vesey + wasn't home. And I thought you might be here.” + </p> + <p> + “You haven't made the copy already!” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “You're not going!” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “I must—and you're busy.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, not in that!” Janet protested. “And besides, I'd spoil it—I'm + sure my skirt is wet.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you make it for Mrs. Maturin? She will be Pleased!” exclaimed Janet, + as she sat down. “I don't think it's uncomfortable.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Not for anything!” Janet got to her feet again. “I really must be going.” + </p> + <p> + “Going where?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “What queer windows!” she said. “But they seem to go with the house, + beautifully.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “And these?” she asked, pointing to the millstones of different diameters + that made the steps leading down to the garden. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “But the gun?” she questioned. “You didn't have it the night we came to + supper.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + She thought of how Insall had made those early days live for her, in his + story of Basil Grelott. But to save her soul, when with such an opening, + she could not speak of it. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “You like them as much as that, Janet?” he said, looking at her. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “While you have the chance?” he repeated. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Not yet,” she heard him say, and felt his hand on her arm. “You haven't + thought of what you're doing for me.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you say that?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Don't!” she pleaded. “Please don't—I can't.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You didn't suspect that I loved you?” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “It's—some one else?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “I was—going to be married to—to Mr. Ditmar,” she said slowly, + despairingly. + </p> + <p> + “But even then—” Insall began. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Worse!” Insall repeated uncomprehendingly.... And then she was aware that + he had left her side. He was standing by the window. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.... + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “I never guessed it,” Janet sobbed. “Oh, Mrs. Maturin, you'll believe me—won't + you?” + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “I've hurt him!” + </p> + <p> + Augusta Maturity was silent awhile. “Remember, my dear,” she begged, “you + haven't only yourself to think about, from now on.” + </p> + <p> + 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.... + </p> + <p> + 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.... + </p> + <p> + 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.... + </p> + <p> + 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 breath—so 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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + At moments she conversed rapidly with Delphin in the same patois Janet had + heard on the streets of Hampton. How long ago that seemed! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.... + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “It's a daughter,” she announced. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “We'll see that she has a chance, my dear,” Augusta Maturin replied, as + she kissed her. + </p> + <p> + 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.... + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Janet. + </p> + <p> + “Well—he wants to come up here, to see you, before we go away. He + asks me to telegraph your permission.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh no, he mustn't, Mrs. Maturin!” + </p> + <p> + “You don't care to see him?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + After a moment Augusta Maturin handed Janet a sealed envelope she held in + her hand. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Maturin,” said Janet, “I'd like to talk to you. I think I ought to + tell you what Mr. Insall says.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my dear,” her friend replied, a little faintly, sitting down on the + bed. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, my dear?” Augusta Maturin forced herself to say at last. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you say you're not going to get well, Janet? In this air, and with + the child to live for!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Augusta Maturin took Janet's hand in hers. + </p> + <p> + “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....” + </p> + <p> + PG EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Anger and revolt against a life so precarious and sordid + But when you get to a point where private affairs become a public menace + Exorbitant price for joys otherwise more reasonably to be obtained + Foreigners. I never could see why the government lets 'em all come + Hitherto he had held rigidly to that relativity + Janet resented that pity + Love is nothing but attraction between the sexes + Mercifully, however, she had little leisure to reflect + Perhaps she feared to break the charm of that memory + She resented being prayed for + Struggled against her woman's desire to give + Tested the limits of Janet's ingenuity and powers of resistance + The seventh commandment was only relative + There had been something sorrowful in that kiss + Too much reason in the world, too little impulse and feeling +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Dwelling Place of Light, Complete +by Winston Churchill + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DWELLING PLACE OF LIGHT, *** + +***** This file should be named 3649-h.htm or 3649-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/6/4/3649/ + +Produced by David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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