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diff --git a/41890.txt b/41890.txt deleted file mode 100644 index d08420f..0000000 --- a/41890.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,11337 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Barrier, by Allen French - - -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 Barrier - A Novel - - -Author: Allen French - - - -Release Date: January 21, 2013 [eBook #41890] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) - - -***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BARRIER*** - - -E-text prepared by Fay Dunn, sp1nd, and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made -available by Internet Archive (http://archive.org) - - - -Note: Images of the original pages are available through - Internet Archive. See - http://archive.org/details/barriernovel00freniala - - - - - -THE BARRIER - -A Novel - -by - -ALLEN FRENCH - -Author of "The Colonials" - - - - - - - -[Illustration] - -New York -Doubleday, Page & Company -1904 - -Copyright, 1904, by -Doubleday, Page & Company -Published, May, 1904 - - - - - To - C. E. S. AND S. P. S. - - - - -CONTENTS - - - CHAPTER PAGE - - I. The Statement of the Case 3 - - II. Which Enlarges the Stage 10 - - III. Sets the Ball to Rolling 21 - - IV. An Understanding 26 - - V. Various Points of View 32 - - VI. Introducing an Eccentric 41 - - VII. Chebasset 52 - - VIII. The Progress of Acquaintance 65 - - IX. New Ideas 75 - - X. Drawn Both Ways 83 - - XI. An Incident at the Mill 92 - - XII. Forwards Various Affairs 102 - - XIII. Which Is in Some Respects Unsatisfactory 114 - - XIV. Mr. Pease Intrudes Upon a Secret 123 - - XV. Which Develops the Colonel's Financial - Strategy 130 - - XVI. Something New 145 - - XVII. Which Deals with Several of Our - Personages 155 - - XVIII. Judith Buys a Typewriter 163 - - XIX. "Put Money in Thy Purse" 175 - - XX. The Power of Suggestion 182 - - XXI. Ellis Takes His Last Step but One 194 - - XXII. Haroun Al Raschid 206 - - XXIII. Plain Language 218 - - XXIV. Bringing About an Understanding 224 - - XXV. The Colonel Gives Up His Luxuries 235 - - XXVI. In which Judge Harmon Enters the Story 242 - - XXVII. In which Judge Harmon Leaves the Story 250 - - XXVIII. Judith Binds Herself 255 - - XXIX. Knowledge of New Things 263 - - XXX. Time Begins His Revenges 275 - - XXXI. Brings About Two New Combinations 286 - - XXXII. Which Is in Some Respects Satisfactory 295 - - XXXIII. Contains Another Proposal of Marriage, - and Settles an Old Score 307 - - - - -LIST OF CHARACTERS - -_IN THE ORDER OF THEIR MENTION_ - - -STEPHEN F. ELLIS, promoter and political boss. - -GEORGE MATHER, a young business man. - -JUDITH BLANCHARD, of the social set. - -MRS. HARMON, who has risen by her marriage. - -JUDGE ABIEL HARMON, advanced in years. - -COLONEL BLANCHARD, Judith's father. - -BETH, his remaining daughter. - -MR. PRICE, the fashionable jeweller. - -MR. FENNO, head of one of the old families. - -MR. PEASE, a banker. - -JIM WAYNE, of the social set. - -MR. DAGGETT, a supporter of Ellis. - -MISS JENKS, Mather's stenographer. - -STOCK, a labor agitator. - - - - -THE BARRIER - - - -CHAPTER I - -THE STATEMENT OF THE CASE - - -There is a certain circle so well-to-do that it is occupied chiefly in -guarding its property and maintaining its exclusiveness. There is a city -so small, politically, that it is buttoned in one man's pocket. The -second of these is the direct consequence of the first. Leading families -lead little except the cotillion, parvenus crowd in, and things are done -at which no gentleman will soil his gloves. - -In the course of time, such a community might develop a strong active -class and a superb set of figureheads, if only the two sorts would let -each other alone. But the one will envy and the other sneer; the one -will long for ornament and the other will meddle. A desire to sparkle -meets the desire to appear to do, or at times encounters the genuine -longing to do. Dirty hands will wish to be clean; clean hands must have -a little honest dirt. - -The city of Stirling lies in New England; it is one among those which -look to Boston for supplies and to New York for fashions. Its history -goes back to colonial times: hence those beautiful estates in the -residential section and the air of pride in the scions of the old -families. These said scions collect much rent and control much -water-power, yet an inquirer imbued with the modern spirit might ask -them to give an account of themselves. Their forefathers settled the -country, fought in the Revolution, and helped to build the nation and -the State, but now people whisper of degeneration. In the old city -modern men have risen to power, control the franchises, manage the local -government, and are large in the public eye. - -Or perhaps it is more accurate to say that one man does this. Ellis the -promoter, Stephen F. Ellis, has grown from nothing to everything, has -consolidated businesses, mastered the city affairs, holds all the reins, -pulls all the wires. The reform politicians have never harmed him. The -fashionable people, according to their wont, for years have avoided -publicity and let things go. The man among them who, in a generation, -alone has ventured into the field of thoroughly modern enterprise, has -failed signally, though most gallantly, and in the prime of his youth -stands amid the ruins of a career. The very honour which was his -inheritance brought him low. - -He had been a contrast to Ellis in the openness of his methods and the -rapidity of his success. To organise all the street-railways of his -city, to force his personality upon the stockholders of three lines, and -to weld the old clumsy systems into one efficient whole--that was George -Mather's achievement. To be head and shoulders above all others of his -years as the street-railway president, yes, and as the man in whom the -reform politicians built their best hopes--that was his pride, and his -class was proud of him. But his strength was his weakness, for he used -no trickery and he kept his word. Therefore by a business stroke -undertaken against him in the face of an agreement, a method not so -analogous to a stab in the back as to the adroit administering of poison -in a loving-cup, Mather was upon a certain spring morning, at a certain -stock-holders' meeting, by a small but neat majority voted out of -office, and stood robbed of the best fruits of his labours. - -Those who saw him that afternoon upon the golf-course marvelled as he -played his match with the precision of a machine. Had the man no nerves? -But though thus he proved--to others, not to himself--that he could bear -misfortune without flinching, it was with unspeakable relief that at -last he slipped away into an empty corner of the club-house, whence he -could hear only the buzz of the Saturday crowd on the grounds outside. -The tension of the last few hours relaxed suddenly, and now that he was -freed from the gaze of others he gave way almost to despair. - -The silver cup which he had won he tossed upon the table, and dropping -his clubs upon the floor he threw himself into a chair. Beaten! To have -stood so high in the little city, to fall so suddenly, and to lose so -much! True, he had made money; he had gained the support of the rich men -of his class, who had assured him that they would wait their chance to -set him again in his place. But it was Ellis who had seized that place: -when had Ellis ever given up anything which he had gained? Yet it was -not Mather's fall, nor the hurt to his pride, nor even the loss of the -chance to carry out his plans, which shook him most, but the danger to -still dearer hopes. And the young man, almost groaning, dropped his head -upon his breast. - -A girl entered the room suddenly, and stood startled at the sight of -him, but she was not heard. She wished to withdraw, yet feared to rouse -him, and his deep frown fascinated her. Staring downward, scowling with -his thoughts, his face had at first expressed anger, but now showed -pain. Judith, too, he was thinking--had she changed to him? When he -hurried to her after this morning's meeting, so soon as he could free -himself from his friends, already she had heard the news. She had not -let him speak with her alone, but though she must have known his wish -she kept her father in the room. If with her ambitions she felt -disappointed in him, if she rejected him--well, he could bear even that! -The girl who was watching saw his expression change to determination, -and then suddenly he roused himself. No one should find him brooding. As -he raised his eyes from the carpet she turned to escape, but he saw her -and sprang to his feet. - -"Judith!" She stopped; perceiving her desire he added: "Don't let me -keep you." - -Then she came to him directly. "I thought you were outdoors. Every one -was congratulating you; the club has never seen such golf. It was -splendid!" - -He smiled, indifferent to the praise, and picking up the cup from the -table, looked at it carelessly. "Only for that." - -"And Jim Wayne would give his head for it," she said. - -Disdainfully, he shifted the cup into his palm, and with a single effort -crushed it out of shape. "See," and he meant to personify himself, "it -is only silver; it lacks strength." - -"Ah," she answered, "don't be bitter. Come, forget the street-railroad, -forget you ever were its president, forget everything except your -friends." - -"Judith," he returned with meaning, "can _you_ forget what I have lost?" - -She drew back, flushing. "George!" - -"Oh," he cried, "I know I am rude! But to-day when I came to see you, -you knew what had happened to me. If ever I needed comfort it was then, -and you knew it. There was only one consolation that would help me, and -you knew that, but you denied me. Judith, have I lost my chance with -you?" - -She flushed, as if conscience drove home a rebuke. "I did not mean to be -unkind." But then she looked about uneasily, at the door at her back, -and at the curtains which shut off the adjoining room. "I--I think I -must go." - -"No," he protested. "Let us have it out; no one is near. Give me my -sentence, Judith. You know I've loved you for years. It was for you I -built up the railroad; you are the impelling cause of all my work. This -winter I thought I had pleased you. Is there any hope for me?" - -He spoke without a tremor of the voice, but he clenched his hands as he -waited for her answer, and his eyes were eager. Before them she dropped -her own. "Not now," she answered. - -"Tell me," he asked almost gently, "why you have changed." - -She stood silent, with her eyes still downcast, but her mouth grew -harder. - -"No, don't explain," he said quickly. "I understand. I understood when I -left your house to-day. Judith, don't you know that I have learned to -read you? This morning I was beaten, and you require of a man that he -shall succeed." - -Her eyes flashed up at him. "Well," she demanded, "and if I do? Can I be -different from what I am?" - -"We make ourselves," he replied. - -Her defiance was brief, and she asked earnestly: "Why have you let me -plague you so? Choose again, some softer woman." - -"My choice is fixed," he answered simply. - -"Then at least," she said, "we will remain friends?" - -His face cleared, and he smiled. "So far as you permit." - -"But without enthusiasm," she reproached him. - -"Ah, Judith," he answered, "you know you don't require it." - -"And we won't speak of this again?" she asked. - -"Just these last words," he said. "Remember that this defeat is not the -end of me; I shall yet give an account of myself." She saw how resolute -were his eyes, but then his look again became gentle as he added: "And -this, too. The world fascinates you. But Judith, it is very big, and -strong, and merciless!" - -Was it not a beaten man who spoke? She answered, "I do not fear it," and -studied him to find his meaning. - -But with a steadiness which allowed no further show of feeling he -replied: "If ever you do, then turn to me." - -They finished without words of parting; she quitted him abruptly, he -took up the caddy-bag and stuffed the ruined cup in among the clubs. -Though she paused an instant at the door, there was nothing more to be -said. Regretfully he watched her go: bright, fearless, and inquisitive -as she was, where was her nature leading her? He knew her restless -energy, and at the moment feared for her more than for himself. - -As for her, he had pricked her deeply by his warning. The world would -never be too much for her. Let it be however big and strong, she admired -it, must learn about it! She would never cry for mercy. The thought did -not cross her mind that he knew the world better than she, that although -defeated he was more its master. At twenty-three one is confident. - -And as for his charge that she thought less of him, she told herself -that it was not his disaster that separated them. Rather it was the -quality which the disaster had but emphasised in him--the -self-confidence, real or counterfeit, with which he had always assumed -that he could go his own way in making a home in which to take care of -her. How he mistook her! She did not ask for safety from the world; it -was the key to her whole character that she wished to be more than a -mere comfort to a man. Should she ever accept a husband, she must be an -active rather than a passive element in his strength, counselling, -inspiring, almost leading him. Between herself and Mather there was an -unremitting conflict of will. She left the club-house, and went out upon -the lawn with her cheeks a little redder than usual, her black eye -brighter, her head held still more high. - -Men came instantly about her--young men eager to please. But with her -thoughts still busy, she measured them and found them lacking; they had -never done anything--they had not yet arrived. The most masterly of them -all she had left in the club-house, and he, after climbing to high -place, had fallen. Was it possible that the only men of power were older -still? Then she progressed to a still more searching question. Could -this vapid and ambitionless assembly produce real men? - - - - -CHAPTER II - -WHICH ENLARGES THE STAGE - - -On the day which brought to Mather his two crushing defeats, the cause -of them, Ellis, that type of modern success, openly embarked upon his -latest and his strangest venture. Not satisfied with his achievements, -and burning with the desire for recognition, he, whose power was -complete in every part of the city save one, turned to that quarter -where alone he had met indifference, and began his campaign against the -citadel of fashion. The guests at the golf-club tea were somewhat -startled when, at the side of their latest parvenue, whose bold beauty -and free ways they had not yet learned to tolerate, they perceived the -man whose characteristics--a short figure and large head, thinly -bearded, with sharp features and keen eyes--were known to all students -of contemporary caricature. Ellis was received with the coolness which -his companion had foreseen. - -"They won't like it, Stephen," she had said when he proposed the -undertaking to her. "So soon after this morning, I mean; you know Mr. -Mather is very popular." - -"I'll take the risk," he answered. - -"I don't see why you bother," she went on. "It's been easy enough for -me, marrying the Judge, to go where I please--and yet it's a continual -struggle, after all. It isn't such fun as you'd think, from outside." - -He scowled a partial acquiescence. Living near the social leaders, it -had been an earlier hope that to be their neighbour would open to him -their doors. He had built himself that imposing edifice upon the main -street of fashion, so that where the simple Georgian mansion of the -Waynes had stood the Gothic gorgeousness of a French chateau forced -attention. But in spite of the money he lavished there, it had not taken -Ellis long to discover that the widow Wayne, who was his neighbour still -(having refused to part with the original homestead of the family), had -more honour in her little clapboarded cottage than he in his granite -pile. The widow's son, who nodded so carelessly to Ellis when they met, -and yet was but a broker's clerk, had with his youth and grace a more -valuable possession still--his name. - -Sometimes Ellis felt it almost too exasperating to live among these -people and be ignored by them, yet he gritted his teeth and stayed, -thinking that perseverance must win in the end, and perceiving that from -the midst of his enemies he might best plan his campaign. He spun his -webs with unconquerable patience, studying the social news with the same -keenness which he brought to the stock-market reports, and looking ahead -to a possible combination which would give him the opportunity he -desired. And now he believed that at last he actually saw his chance, -and his hopes were rising. - -"Maybe I'm a fool," he said, "but by Gad I'll at least have one look -inside, and see what others find there. I notice that you worked hard -enough to get in, and now you work to stay. But, Lydia, if you want to -keep these people to yourself----" - -"The idea!" she cried. "You are welcome to them." - -"Or if you think I shall hurt your position----" He paused for a second -disclaimer, but none came; his directness had confused her, and he knew -he had struck near the truth. "Anyhow," he finished, "you promised me -this long ago, and I'll keep you to the bargain." - -Now she, the maker of this promise to Ellis, was the wife of Judge Abiel -Harmon, whose ancient family, high position, and fine character were -everywhere honoured. Nevertheless, Ellis was able to regard her as his -entering wedge, for they had been boy and girl together in the same -little town. While yet in his teens he went to try his chances in the -city; years afterward, when her ripe charms had captivated the old -Judge, she found her fortune and followed. When she met Ellis again -their social positions were widely different, but interest drew the two -together, and though the Judge had no liking for Ellis, he did not -inquire what Mrs. Harmon did with her leisure; therefore she maintained -with the promoter an intimacy which to them both promised profit. To him -the first advantage was this visit to the golf club, but while on -inspection of the crowd he knew he could buy up any member of it at a -fair valuation, they did not appear to like him the better for that, and -their groups melted marvellously before him. As a relief, Mrs. Harmon -took him to the club-house, but the dreary promenade through its rooms, -where her vocabulary was exhausted and her enthusiasm lapsed, became at -last an evident failure. When she had said all that she could of the -conveniences of the lower floor she led him to the stairs. - -"If you care to go up," she suggested, "the bedrooms might interest -you." - -But she looked out on the lawn through the open door, and longed to be -there. The chattering groups called to every instinct of her nature; she -wished to get rid of this encumbrance--to hand him over to any one and -take her pleasure as she was used. And Ellis, too, looked out through -the doorway. - -"Up-stairs is more likely to be stupid," he said bluntly. "Let's go -outdoors again." - -In Mrs. Harmon's relief, she did not notice the characteristic which he -displayed in this answer. Ellis was a fighter; power was all very well, -but the winning of it was better. Just now he was like Alexander before -India--looking upon a domain which must be his, and eager for the -struggle. These people, and they alone, could put the capstone to the -pyramid of his successes, and could lend glamour, if not give glory, to -that wholly material structure. He would force them to it! Watching -society disport itself, he regarded it as his natural prey. That -assemblage was characterised by a suavity which deceived him; as he -viewed the throng it seemed all mildness, all amiability. He did not -appreciate the power of resistance of the apparently soft people. - -And yet he had learned that money was not the effective weapon he had -once supposed it. The arrogance of possession was against him, and -though he did not understand the subtle reasons for his exclusion, he -was sure that something besides a golden key was needed to open those -doors. - -It was not in Ellis to remake himself, nor did he try to change his -ways. As when he faced the difficulty of buying the city government, he -merely studied human weaknesses. The former experience had taught him -that men are easier bribed without money than with, and that there are -some passions, some ambitions, which do not include financial ease. -Moreover, he had formed his plan; it was time to make the attempt. - -"Miss Judith Blanchard--she is here?" he asked. - -Mrs. Harmon looked at him in surprise. Did he wish to meet a girl? So -far she had conducted the enterprise, and since their entrance on the -grounds had tried to help him by introductions to the older people. But -the experiment had failed, and he had no intention of repeating it. - -"Why, she is here," she answered in doubt. - -"Then introduce me to her," he directed brusquely. - -Oh, if he wished! Mrs. Harmon was not pleased to be so ordered; she was -not at all satisfied with her day. It was very troublesome, this trying -to introduce Ellis. The manner of Mrs. Watson had been more distant than -ever, while as for Mrs. William Fenno, her behaviour had been arctic. -Mrs. Harmon cared for no further snubs, but if Ellis wished to run the -risk of the meeting--well, Judith would fix him! Not pausing to watch -the process, Mrs. Harmon presented Ellis to the young lady and escaped -to her own enjoyments. - -Ellis was where he had many times imagined himself, standing before -Judith Blanchard, while the young men fell away on either side. He was -meeting her glance, he was seeing for himself the "queenly form," the -"regal head" (_vide_ the social columns of the _Herald_), and he was -experiencing at close hand the influence of her personality. It was -magnetic even to him, for on hearing his name she turned quickly, looked -him straight in the eye, and offered him her hand almost as a man would -have done. When she spoke her voice had not the artificial tones of the -women he had so far met; it had a genuine ring. - -"So you are Mr. Ellis?" - -"You know of me, then?" he asked. - -"Every one has heard of you, even girls," she replied. Any one might -have said this, but not with her look, not with that bright glance. She -asked another question, which showed to those who listened her interest -in the man. "You have settled the water-works affair?" - -John Trask turned and strolled away; Will Mayne bowed to Miss Blanchard -and silently betook himself elsewhere; Ripley Fenno mumbled a request to -be excused, and left Miss Blanchard alone with her new acquaintance. -Within five minutes, five times as many people were watching the pair -curiously, but absorbed in a new interest, they did not notice. - -"What do you know," he asked her, "about the water-works?" - -But she pursued her own inquiries. "Or does the street-railway not take -up your time? Or perhaps," she added boldly, "the court-house has no -need of the services of its contractor." - -Now the boldness of this last remark consisted in the reminder of a -certain scandal, public-minded citizens (of whom the chief was Judge -Harmon) claiming that there had been boodlery in the recent repairs of -the court-house. It was more than hinted that Ellis had backed the -contractors, and that he had shared the profits. His face changed, -therefore, as she spoke, and she saw in his eyes a sudden gleam--of -anger? - -"Or," she asked quickly, "have I misread the papers, and you are not the -contractor, after all?" - -He was himself again, although looking--staring, almost--with deeper -interest. At first he said no more than "I am not the contractor," but -to himself he was crying: Success! He believed she had provoked him -deliberately; he saw that she had studied his doings, for the -court-house affair was almost a year old, the water-works deal occurred -months ago, and the street-railway _coup_ was of this very day. - -"How much you know of matters!" he cried. - -"I read the newspapers," she explained, "and with an object." - -"An object?" he asked. - -"I want to know what is going on," she explained. "I want to have to do -with real things. I am interested in the doings of _men_, Mr. Ellis." -And she made him a little bow, which he, still staring, made no attempt -to answer. Then she turned, and walked toward a more open space where -people could not, as they were beginning to do, press around them. "Will -you not come and see the grounds?" she asked. In great satisfaction he -kept at her side. - -So this was Judith Blanchard! He had not believed it, had laughed at -himself for hoping it, but she was what he had imagined her. Months of -study had gone to make up his opinion of her; he had read of her, heard -of her, watched her. Quick, impetuous, somewhat impatient of -conventions--that was Judith. - -"Do you know," she asked suddenly, "that we have met before? In a -street-car, not a fortnight ago, we rode facing each other for quite a -while. I remember meeting your eye." - -He had recalled it many times. "I hope I didn't look too much at you," -he said. "You must be used to having people watch you." - -"Oh, please don't compliment," she interrupted, "or you will spoil my -idea of you. I imagine you a man who thinks to the point, and speaks so, -too. Yes, people do watch me wherever I go; they give me flattery, and -think I love it. But if you and I are to be friends----" - -"Friends!" he exclaimed involuntarily. - -"Are you not willing?" - -"Willing!" he repeated. "Miss Blanchard, you offer what I had not dared -to hope one person here would think of in connection with me. I----" He -looked at her searchingly. "You are not teasing me?" - -"I used a strong word," she said. - -"Then you did not mean it?" - -"Why," she endeavoured to explain, "I spoke hastily. I have few -friends." - -"Few friends? You?" - -"Yes, I," she answered. "Among the men, I mean. Those of my age are -so"--and she smiled--"so young! I am not posing, Mr. Ellis." - -Nor was she. Her interest in the great world was genuine, even if -ill-balanced. Ruled by it, she looked into men and discovered, not how -much there was in them, but how little they had for her. The good, the -amiable, the well-intentioned, had none of them enough backbone to suit -her; it was power that she wished to find. Always among respectable -people, she was often impatient at their mediocrity; always among young -people, she was tired by their immaturity. This day she had for the -first time questioned if older people of another class had not more for -her; she had been repeating the question at the moment when Ellis was -presented. And now, without pose, she scrutinised him with frank -question: Was he one who could bring an interest into her life and let -her see the workings of the world? - -And he knew she was not posing. "It is sometimes troublesome to be -friends with people," he said. "To be bound to them, to have -considerations of them prevent free action--that is what friends mean in -business." - -"And you have few, as well?" - -"I have dependents." - -He spoke wisely, for the term struck her. Dependents! She had felt -isolation, but it was that of the looker-on. There was something regal -in this man's loneliness, for that he was lonely she divined. - -"People need you," she said with approval. "They cannot get along -without you. Oh!" she exclaimed, "I have sometimes thought what power is -in the hands of such men as you. You can mould a whole community; you -can set your mark on a city so that it will tell of you forever." Behind -a steady face he concealed astonishment and question. "You can do so -much good!" she finished. - -"Much good--yes," he returned uncertainly. Such enthusiasm was new to -him, especially when applied to what the opposition newspapers bluntly -called "jobs." He perceived that where he saw only money in his -enterprises, Judith saw great opportunities. "Yes, much good--if we can -only do it. Where there is power there is also responsibility. How can a -man know whether he is doing the right thing, especially"--and he -smiled--"when all the newspapers say he is doing wrong?" - -"A man must follow his conscience," she replied, so gravely that he was -uncomfortable, for, thus innocently spoken, her words carried a sting. -He tried to finish the subject, and by his usual method--by meeting it -directly. - -"A man works as he can," he said, "doing what seems best. He has to -think of the present, but as you seem to know, he works for the future -too. It is an interesting life and a busy one." - -"Interesting?" she echoed. "Oh, it must be! Why should it not be -all-sufficient? Why should you come here?" He stared at her again, and -she asked: "What have we that can interest you?" - -He answered with a simplicity that was almost great, an acknowledgment -of his desires which was unparalleled in his career, but which meant -that without hesitation he put himself in her hands, to betray if she -wished, but perhaps to save. He waved his hand toward the groups behind -him. - -"I want to get in," he said. - -"To get in?" She smiled, and he doubted. "To get in, when I sometimes -wish to get out? In here it's so dull!" - -"I don't care for that," he replied. - -"Sit down, then," she directed. "Let us talk it over." - -Seated on a bench, half-facing, each had a moment to consider. She did -not take it; he did, for he was beginning to recover himself and to -study her. Beauty and grace, with that direct glance and genuine voice, -were her chief outward characteristics. Of her inward motives, most -prominent appeared her desire for something new; more strong, perhaps, -was her interest in matters beyond her sphere. This interest of hers was -to him a gift of fortune; it might bring him anywhere. But to Judith -this situation was new; therefore she enjoyed it. She paused no longer -than to consider what she should ask him next, and then pursued the -subject. - -"How have you meant to go about it?" she inquired. - -"Why," he hesitated, "my friends----" - -"What friends?" - -He acknowledged frankly: "I have but one--Mrs. Harmon." - -"Oh, only Mrs. Harmon?" - -Only! The tone and the word struck him. Was Mrs. Harmon, then, not fully -in? His mind reached forward blankly: who else could help him? - -"But you must know some of our men," she suggested. - -"Business acquaintances, yes," he said. "Yet they take care that I shall -remain a business acquaintance merely. No, I must reach the men through -the women." - -"And the women?" she asked. "How will you reach them? Mrs. Fenno, for -instance, knows only one kind; she is iron against innovation. How will -you get on her list, or Mrs. Watson's, or Mrs. Branderson's?" - -He did not answer. She saw that he was biting on the problem, and that -it did not please him. She made a positive statement. - -"No. It is the men you must rely on." - -And he, weighing the facts, believed her, though it went against his -former notions. The women--this day he had first seen them at close -quarters, and had felt them to be formidable creatures. The severe -majesty of Mrs. Fenno--how could he impress it? And Mrs. Branderson had, -beneath the good humour of her reception of him, the skill to chat -easily, and then to turn her back without excuse. He bit his -mustache--the women! - -She was watching him with a half-smile. "Do you not agree?" - -"But which men, then?" he inquired. - -"Have you no influence over a single one?" - -"There is young Mather," he said thoughtfully. - -Her manner changed; she drew a little more within herself, and he noted -the difference in her tone as she asked: "You have some connection with -him?" - -"None," he said. "But I can help him." - -"How?" - -"He is out of work," Ellis explained. "He will be fretting his heart out -for something to do. I could offer him some position." - -"Do!" she said. "He is right here.--George!" she called. - - - - -CHAPTER III - -SETS THE BALL TO ROLLING - - -No young man can bear to sit down idly under misfortune; but though the -chief results of Mather's work were lost to him, and his great -plans--his subway--swept away, and though his defeat rankled, he had not -suspected personal feeling in Ellis's action. The promoter had merely -stretched out his hand and taken, repudiating the pledges of those who -spoke in his name. - -Therefore, in spite of the little shock which Mather felt when he saw -Ellis with Judith, he came forward and greeted politely. It was a -chance, of course, to "get back"; it would have been easy to express -surprise at the promoter's presence, and to ask how he liked the club -now that he really was there. Mather felt the temptation, but there was -too much behind his relations with Ellis for the younger man to be rude, -and he presently found himself saying: "I don't suppose you play golf, -Mr. Ellis?" - -"No," Ellis answered. This was the first man who had greeted him freely -that day, and yet the one who most might feel resentment. While his -manner showed that he was about to speak again, Ellis looked the other -over with a smile which concealed deliberation. It was not weakness that -made Mather mild, in spite of Mrs. Harmon's belief, to which she clung -the more because the Judge rejected it. "I knew his father," her husband -had told her. "They are bulldogs in that stock." Ellis took much the -same view; once, at the beginning of his career, he had encountered -Mather's father, and had found him a bulldog indeed. The son seemed the -same in so many respects that Ellis wondered if he had thought quite -long enough in seizing this morning's opportunity. He knew well that -Mather would be stronger when next he entered the arena; besides, the -reform politicians, those bees who buzzed continually and occasionally -stung, had been after the young man, who, with the leisure to enter -politics, might be formidable. Thus Ellis, hesitating, ran over the -whole subject in his mind; and then, as he knew how to do, plunged at -his object. - -"Mr. Mather, I am sorry for what happened this morning." - -"Fortune of war," returned the other. - -The young man certainly had a right to be bitter if he chose, judging, -at least, by the usual conduct of victims. Mather's peculiarity in this -did not escape Ellis, who spoke again with some hope of forgiveness. "I -trust that you and I may some day work together." - -"I scarcely expect it," was the answer. - -"Don't say that." Ellis was not sure what tone to adopt, but did his -best. "This is not the place to speak of it, perhaps, but there is -surely something I can do for you." - -"Now that you have nothing to do, you know," said Judith. - -Mather turned to her; he saw how she had put herself on Ellis's side; -how her interest in this offer was due to Ellis, not to himself. And the -reminder of his defeat was most unwelcome. - -"Since this morning," he said, "I have been offered three positions." - -"Oh!" cried Judith. The involuntary note of surprise showed how she had -underrated him, and Mather bit his lip. - -Ellis spoke. "If you will take a position on the street-railroad----" - -"Nothing subordinate there!" cut in Mather very positively. - -"Then," said Ellis, "if you care to be the head of the water -company----" - -"Oh!" Judith exclaimed before Ellis had completed his offer. "Such an -opportunity!" - -Mather himself looked at Ellis in surprise. It was an opening which, -coming from any other source, he would have accepted eagerly, as a task -in which he could give free play to all his powers. Did Ellis really -mean it? But the promoter, having swiftly asked himself the same -question, was sure of his own wisdom. The place needed a man: here was -one. Besides, Ellis would have given much to tie Mather to him. - -"I mean it," he said positively. - -"You must accept," added Judith. - -It was too much for Mather to bear. His defeat by Ellis and his loss of -Judith--both of these he could sustain as separate calamities. But when -he saw her thus siding with his victor, Mather forgot himself, forgot -that Ellis was not a man to defy lightly, and spoke the impolitic truth. - -"I could not work with Mr. Ellis under any circumstances!" - -"George!" cried Judith hotly. - -Then there was silence as the men looked at each other. Had Judith been -the woman that in her weaker moments she was pleased to think herself, -she would have studied the two. But she was neither cool nor impartial; -she had put her feelings on Ellis's side, and looked at Mather with -indignation. She missed, therefore, the pose of his head and the fire -of his eye. She missed as well the narrowing of Ellis's eyes, the -forward stretch of his thin neck--snaky actions which expressed his -perfect self-possession, and his threat. Neither of them spoke, but -Judith did as she turned away. - -"You are very rude," she said coldly. "Come, Mr. Ellis, let us walk -again." Ellis followed her; Mather stood and watched them walk away. - -"It was shameful of him," said Judith when she and Ellis were out of -hearing. - -"He is young," remarked the other. He was watching her now, as he had -watched Mather, out of narrow eyes. Mather's words meant a declaration -of interest in Judith, confirming gossip. She was supposed to have -refused him, and yet she was biting her lip--would she be quite so moved -if Mather had not the power to do it? Ellis promised himself that he -would remember this. - -"He will know better some day," he said. "But at least he is out of the -question. Can you not suggest some one else?" - -"There is Mr. Pease," she answered. - -Pease and himself--oil and water! How little she knew! and he almost -laughed. But he answered meditatively: "He is very--set." - -"I see my father is coming for me," she said. - -"Let me ask you this, then," he begged quickly. "May I come to see -you--at your house?" - -"I am afraid not--yet," she answered. She was not ungracious, and -continued with much interest: "But Mr. Ellis, I shall be so anxious to -hear how it all goes. I am sorry I cannot help you with the men, but the -principle is [she thought of Mather] choose the weak ones, not the -strong. Here is my father. Father, this is Mr. Ellis." - -Colonel Blanchard was affable. "How de do?" he said breezily. "Fine day -for the match, Mr. Ellis." - -"A very fine day," answered Ellis, pleased by the way in which the -Colonel looked at him; Blanchard seemed interested, like his daughter. -But Judith thought that the conversation had best end there. - -"The carriage has come?" she asked. - -"Yes," answered the Colonel. "Beth is in it, waiting for us. You know -she goes out to dinner." He begged Ellis to excuse them, and so carried -his daughter away. - -Ellis looked after them; these two, at least, had treated him well. The -Colonel had stared with almost bourgeois interest, as if impressible by -wealth and power. Ellis mused over the possibility of such a thing. - -"The weak," he said, repeating Judith's words. "The weak, not the -strong." - -Then Mrs. Harmon swooped down on him. "Here you are," she said -petulantly. "Everybody's going. Let us go too." - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -AN UNDERSTANDING - - -Mrs. Harmon was very petulant; indeed, her aspect in one of lower -station would have been deemed sulky. Reviewing the afternoon, she was -convinced that to have brought Ellis there was a great mistake. Why -should she take up with him, anyway? He could give her nothing -but--trinkets; the old acquaintance was not so close that she was bound -to help him. It had been condescension on her part; she might as well -stop it now; yes, she might as well. - -Yet she thought with some uneasiness of those trinkets. To accept them -had not bound her to him, had it? Their money value was nothing to him. -She could break from him gradually--that would be simple enough--and she -could make a beginning on the drive home, for silence could show her -feelings. - -Ellis understood her after one glance, which expressed not only his -impatience with her instability, but also a sudden new repulsion. The -afternoon had opened his eyes to what the finer women were. How could he -have supposed that Mrs. Harmon was really in the inner circle? How she -contrasted with Judith! She seemed so flat beside the girl; she was his -own kind, while Judith was better. He wished that he might drop the -woman and pin his hopes to the girl. - -But he could not spare Mrs. Harmon, and he had no fear that she would -drop him, for he knew all her weaknesses. She was ambitious to a certain -degree, but after that, lazy; she was fond of comfort, fond -of--trinkets, with a healthy indifference to ways and means. In fact, -although Ellis did not so phrase it, there was a barbaric strain in her, -a yearning for flesh-pots and show, in which her husband's tastes and -means did not permit her to indulge herself. Ellis knew that he could -manage her. - -"Lydia," he said, "I want to thank you for the afternoon. It must have -been a great bother to you. I'm afraid I spoiled your fun." - -She could but respond. "Oh, not much." - -"Look here," he went on. "You know me, I think; we understand each other -pretty well. These people," and he waved his hand to include the whole -golf club, "are not to be too much for us. Do you mind my saying a few -words about myself?" - -"Oh, no!" she exclaimed with involuntary interest; for he seldom spoke -his thoughts. - -"That girl, Miss Blanchard," he said, "was very good to me." - -"She was?" Mrs. Harmon could not subdue an accent of surprise, but -hastened to explain. "I've sometimes found her haughty." - -"I shan't forget you introduced me to her," said Ellis. "I mean to -follow up my acquaintance there." - -"No girl," suggested Mrs. Harmon, "has much influence. No unmarried -woman, I mean." - -"But when Miss Blanchard marries she will have it then?" - -"Yes," answered Mrs. Harmon thoughtfully, and then very positively: -"Yes, I think she would be a leader of the younger set." - -"I am sure she would." Ellis nodded confidently. Judith had faults, -notably rashness, but under wise guidance she could develop masterly -qualities. - -"But why----" began Mrs. Harmon in some perplexity. Then she caught -sight of her companion's expression. "What! you don't mean to say that -you--you would?" - -"Why not?" asked Ellis. "Is it so very strange?" - -"You are over forty!" cried Mrs. Harmon. - -"Nothing to do with the case," he replied shortly. - -"N-no," agreed Mrs. Harmon slowly. "No, I believe not--not with Judith." -She looked at her companion with sudden respect. "I believe you've hit -upon it! I didn't know you thought of anything of the kind." - -"I need you, just the same," said Ellis. "You will help me?" - -"Yes, yes," she replied. She felt a nervous inclination to giggle. "It's -a big affair." - -"All the more credit if you engineer it," he answered, and shrewdly, for -she felt stimulated. If _she_ could engineer it! Then she could plume -herself in the face of Mrs. Fenno, and would always have a strong ally -in Judith. - -"Yes," she cried eagerly, "it will mean a great deal to--to everybody if -it happens. Why, I could----" - -But Ellis would not let her run on. "Do you know her well?" he -interrupted. - -"I will know her better soon," she stated. - -"Not too quick," he warned, fearing that she might blunder. "You know -yourself that she is not a girl to be hurried. Tell me, now, what men -are there of her family?" - -"Only her father." - -"And what sort of man is he?" - -Mrs. Harmon's vocabulary was not wide. "Why, spreading," she explained. -"Jaunty, you know." - -"And his circumstances?" - -"He is well off," she answered. "Keeps a carriage and spends freely. -There was money in the family, and his wife had some too. You know how -those old fortunes grow." - -Or disappear, thought Ellis; he had been investigating the Colonel's -standing. "Miss Blanchard has no cousins?" he asked aloud. "No other men -attached to her?" - -"Attached in one sense," she replied, "but not connected." - -"Much obliged," he said. "Now, Lydia, if we stand by each other----" - -Mrs. Harmon had forgotten her earlier thoughts. "Of course!" she cried. -"Oh, it will be so interesting!" - -Ellis added the finishing touch, abruptly changing the subject. "You -have been to Price's recently?" - -Now Price was the fashionable jeweller, and few women were indifferent -to his name. Mrs. Harmon, recollecting the cause of her recent visit -there, saw fit to be coy. - -"Oh, yes," she said, turning her head away. "He keeps asking me to -come." - -"He's always picking up pretty things," said Ellis approvingly. "Did he -have anything special this time?" - -"Something of Orsini's," replied Mrs. Harmon, struggling to appear -indifferent. For they had been lovely, those baroque pearls so -gracefully set in dusky gold. Price had made her try the necklace on, -and she had sighed before the glass. "I wish he wouldn't pester me so," -she said irritably. "He knows I can't afford them." - -"He knows you have taste," Ellis said warmly. "He calls it a great -pleasure to show things to you." - -"I know," she replied, mollified. "I think he means to flatter me. But, -Stephen, it's getting late, and I must dress for the Fennos' ball this -evening." - -"Then," responded Ellis, "I will stop at Price's on my way down-town." - -"Naughty! naughty!" she answered, but she radiated smiles. - -Ellis, after he had left Mrs. Harmon at her door, went, as he had -promised, to the establishment of the pushing Mr. Price, and asked for -the proprietor. - -"Got anything to show me?" Ellis demanded. - -From his safe the jeweller brought out a leather case, and looked at -Ellis impressively before opening it. - -"Pretty small," commented Ellis. - -"Ah, but----" replied the other, and opened the case. "Look--Orsini's -make!" - -"I don't know anything about that," Ellis said as he poked the jewels -with his finger. "Look strange to me. The fashion, however?" - -"The very latest," Price assured him. "Trust me, Mr. Ellis." - -It was one secret of Ellis's success that he knew where to trust. He had -ventured twice that day, with women at that, and the thought of it was -to trouble him before he slept. But he could trust Price in matters of -taste, and as to secrecy, the man was bound to him. Price had been in -politics at the time when Ellis was getting "influence" in the city -government; for the jeweller those days were past, but this store and -certain blocks of stock were the result. Besides, he was adroit. Ellis -gave the chains and pendants a final push with his finger. - -"Send it, then," he said. "The usual place. By the way, how much? Whew! -some things come dear, don't they? But send it, just the same, and at -once. She's going out to some affair." - -Thus it happened that Mrs. Harmon wore "the very latest" at her throat -that night. - - - - -CHAPTER V - -VARIOUS POINTS OF VIEW - - -The Blanchards' equipage was a perfect expression of quiet -respectability, for the carriage was sober in colour, was drawn by a -strong and glossy horse, and was driven by a coachman wearing a modest -livery and a discontented countenance. As it drove away from the golf -club the carriage held the three members of the family, in front the -younger daughter, Beth, and on the rear seat the others: Judith erect -and cheerful, the Colonel cheerful also, but lounging in his corner with -the air of one who took the world without care. Blanchard was -fifty-eight, military as to voice and hair, for his tones were sonorous -and his white whiskers fierce. Yet these outward signs by no means -indicated his nature, and his manner, though bluff, appertained less to -military life than to the game of poker. Not that the Colonel played -cards; moreover, he drank merely in moderation, swore simply to maintain -his character, betrayed only by the tint of the left side of his -mustache that he liked a good cigar, and was extravagant in neither -dress nor table. He kept his carriage, of course, liked the best wines -at home and at the club, and in a small way was a collector of curios. -Yet the Blanchards, but for the brilliance of Judith, were quiet people; -he was proud to be a quiet man. - -Dullness is often the penalty of indolence; the Colonel was lazy and he -had small wit. Perceiving that Judith came away from the tea stimulated -and even excited, he rallied her about her new acquaintance. "An -interesting man, hey?" he asked for the third time. - -"Yes," answered Judith absently. "Father, what is there against Mr. -Ellis?" - -"Only that he is a pusher. He jars." Blanchard aimed to be tolerant. - -"Isn't there more?" asked little Beth. - -The Colonel, as always, turned his eyes on her with pleasure. She was -dark and quiet and sweet, yet her brown eyes revealed a power of -examining questions for their moral aspects. "Nothing much," he said -indulgently. "You don't know business, Beth. He's beaten his opponents -always, and the beaten always squeal, but I doubt if he's as black as -he's painted." - -"I'm glad to hear you stand up for him, father," said Judith. - -"He'll be looking for a wife among us," went on the Colonel with vast -shrewdness and considerable delicacy. "How would he suit you, Judith?" - -"Oh, father!" Beth protested. But Judith, with fire in her eyes, -answered: "He's at least a man. You can't say that of every one." - -Her answer made him turn toward her with a soberer thought and a new -interest. His manner changed from the natural to the pompous as he set -forth his views. "Money is almost the best thing one can have." - -"Father, dear!" protested Beth again. - -"I mean," he explained, again softening his manner, "from a father's -standpoint. If I could see you two girls married with plenty of money, I -could die happy." But evidently the Colonel was in the best of health, -so that his words lacked impressiveness. It was one of the misfortunes -of their family life that Judith was able to perceive the incongruity -between her father's Delphic utterances and his actual feelings, and -that the Colonel knew she found him out. - -"I wasn't thinking of Mr. Ellis's money," she said at this point. - -"I was," retorted the Colonel. As he was struggling with a real thought, -his tones became a little less sonorous and more genuine. "In sickness -riches give everything. In health there are enough troubles without -money cares. I mean it, Judith." - -She took his hand and caressed it. "Forgive me, father!" - -"My dear--my dear!" he responded cordially. - -So this, the type of their little jars, the sole disturbers of family -peace, passed as usual, rapidly and completely, and Ellis was spoken of -no more. Beth, with customary adroitness, came in to shift the subject, -and when the three descended at their door none of them shared the -coachman's air of gloom. - -He, however, detained the Colonel while the girls went up the steps. -"Beg pardon, sir, but could you give me a little of my wages?" - -"James," returned his master with his most military air, "why will you -choose such inconvenient times? Here is all I have with me." He gave -some money. "Twenty dollars." - -"Yessir," replied the man, not overmuch relieved. "And the rest of it, -sir? There's a hundred more owing." - -"Not to-day," returned the Colonel with vexation. But he was an -optimist. Though at the bottom of the steps he muttered to himself -something about "discharge," by the time he reached the top he was -absorbed in cheerful contemplation of the vast resources which, should -Judith ever chance to marry Ellis, would be at her disposal. - -Five minds were, that evening, dominated by the occurrences of the -afternoon. One was the Colonel's, still entertaining a dream which -should properly be repugnant to one of his station. This he recognised, -but he reminded himself that as a parent his daughter's good should be -his care. Another mind was Mather's, disturbed by the jealousy and dread -which the manliest of lovers cannot master. And one was Mrs. Harmon's; -she, like Ellis, had learned much that afternoon, and meant in future to -apply her knowledge. - -As that evening she went to the Fennos' ball Mrs. Harmon recalled the -snubs of the afternoon, and saw how insecure her footing was among these -people. Sometimes she had wondered if it were worth while, this struggle -to be "in"; the life was dull, lacking all natural excitements; there -was no friendship possible with any of the blue-bloods. Yet she hated to -knuckle to them; if she could engineer this match between Judith and -Ellis, then----! And Mrs. Harmon, with the hope of coming triumph, felt -fully equal to meeting Mrs. Fenno on her own ground. Mrs. Harmon wore -Ellis's jewels on her breast, she had his brain to back her, she -believed she knew Judith's weaknesses, and she saw before her a bright -future. - -Judith Blanchard made at that ball a searching review of her world, -dominated as she still was by the thoughts which Ellis aroused. For he, -the strongest personality in the city, had done more than to excite her -curiosity: with his deference to her opinion and his appeal for her help -he had succeeded--as Mather never--in wakening her sympathy. Questioning -why fashion should reject him, stirred to a new comparison of reality -with sham, she looked keenly about her at the ball. She was in one of -the inner sanctuaries, where society bowed down and worshiped itself. -Judith sniffed the incense, listened to the chants, and weighed the -words of officiating priests and priestesses. She found everything to -delight the eye, except the idols; everything to charm the senses, -except sense. - -In the ball-room there was dancing, pagan rites to what purpose? This -usually unrhythmic swaying, skipping, sliding, seemed a profitless way -to pass the hours when workers were in bed. Girls more or less innocent -danced with men more or less _roue_; this procedure, indefinitely -continued, gave occasion for jealousies among the girls and selfish -scheming among the men. In other rooms the older people played cards, -intent at bridge or whist upon their stakes. Near the buffet thronged -bachelors old or young, with not a few married men, busied in acquiring -an agreeable exhilaration. Their occupation was no worse than the -passionate gambling of the old women. And the house in which all this -went on was beautifully classic in design and furnishings. Beside that -quiet elegance, how vacant was the chatter! As Judith thought thus, -slowly the spirit of revolt came to her. - -The master of the house approached her; he was leonine, massive, -somewhat lame from rheumatism. She saw him, as he came, speaking among -his guests; his smile was cynical. It lighted upon her father, and the -Colonel, his character somehow exposed by that smile, seemed shallow. It -turned to the men at the sideboard, and their interests seemed less than -the froth in their glasses. The smile turned on Judith, and she felt -called to give an account of herself. - -But he merely asked her: "Where is Beth?" - -"Gone with Miss Pease to a meeting of the Charity Board," Judith -answered. - -Mr. Fenno grunted, looking at her sidewise. "Better employed than we!" - -Then he rambled away, neither knowing nor caring what encouragement he -had given to her mood. He missed Beth, for his rheumatism was sharp, the -company inane, and Beth was almost the only person who could make him -contented with himself. But Judith felt the reflection of his cynicism -and was stirred still deeper. What was there to interest her here? - -Among all the women Mrs. Harmon alone was in disaccord. No dressmaker -could conceal her natural style; the eye and carriage of the Judge's -wife were bolder than those of the women about her. A free humour -attracted some of the men; the women avoided her, the more delicate from -instinct, the stronger with a frank dislike. This antipathy Judith had -often felt and expressed, yet to-night she reviewed and rejected it. -Mrs. Harmon belonged to the class of the rising Americans; in that class -Judith felt interest, questioning if its vigour and freshness should not -outweigh external faults. She went to Mrs. Harmon and began to talk with -her. - -She tried to find, within the exterior, the solid qualities of the -middle class. But thought and purpose seemed lacking; in Mrs. Harmon the -vulgarity lay deeper than the surface. She was frivolous; she liked the -sparkle and the show, the wine, the dancing, and the gaiety. Promising -herself an intimacy with Judith, she talked willingly, but it was only -upon the subject of Ellis that she became interesting. - -She told Judith much about him. He had always been persevering and -ambitious; he had left his town as a boy because even then he found it -too little. Ellis had begun small; now he was big. Some day, said Mrs -Harmon significantly, people would recognise him. - -Why not, thought Judith as she looked about her, admit Ellis here? What -was an aristocracy for but to reward success? How could it remain sound -but by the infusion of new blood? Ellis had proved his quality by the -things he had done; he had beaten Mather; yet these halls which to -Mather were open were closed to Ellis. It was unfair to refuse to -recognise him! What were the abilities of these men here, compared with -his? - -Thus Judith, tolerant in her broad Americanism, admiring the forces -which to-day are accomplishing such marvellous results, thought of her -world. At the same time Ellis also was thinking of it. His was the fifth -mind moved by that afternoon's occurrence, but moved the most deeply of -them all. On leaving Judith first, like a man smitten by a slender blade -he had spoken, acted, thought as before. Then the inward bleeding began, -and the pain. He had gone away from her thinking of her as something to -be won, but no more distant, no less a commodity, than a public -franchise or a seat in the legislature. Thus he had discussed her with -Mrs. Harmon, but before night his thought of the girl had changed. Her -refinement was new to him; he recalled her in imagination and dwelt on -her features and her voice. Yet, equally with her delicacy, her spirit -charmed him with its frankness and its admiration of great things. There -was a subtle flattery in her interest in him; he had never thought of -himself as she did; he saw himself magnified in her eyes, which seemed -to refine the baseness from his employments and purposes. She gave him a -new idea of himself, and held before him vague new aims. - -He had entertained some of his henchmen that evening at his table, had -tasted while they ate, sipped while they drank, listened while they -spoke of politics. He sat at the head of the table, like the Sphinx -after which he was familiarly called, indifferent to their uncouthness -and their little thoughts; then at the end he suddenly called them into -executive session, asked a few keen questions, gave some brief -directions, and dismissed them. Thus he had always ruled them, from -outside, commanding respect by his decision, almost awe by his silence. -Though his purposes were not clear, the men went to obey him, having -learned to support him blindly, for he never failed. Such was Ellis -among his subordinates, the "old man" of whom they never asked -questions, with whom they never attempted familiarity. They praised him -as they went, proud of their connection with him. But he put out the -lights as soon as the men were gone, and sat at the window, looking at -Fenno's house. - -There was the temporary focus of social life; he saw the lights; had he -opened his window he might have heard the music. Carriages drove up, -people entered the house, and on the curtains of the ball-room he saw -moving shadows. In that house were what he wanted--recognition, a new -life, Judith. But she was guarded by the powers of a whole order, was -infinitely remote. - -His talk with Judith had doubled his determination to enter the upper -world, and yet changed his regard for it. It became Judith's world, -seeming to-night like a house which she inhabited, more precious by her -presence. And because she was so much finer than he had imagined the -women of her class, her sphere looked farther away, and his -determination to enter it was tempered by the fear of failure. - -As he took the first step in his new venture, he had been half ashamed -of his desire to "better himself," quite unable to justify himself by -appeal to the natural American wish to obtain the highest indorsement of -his community. So long as there had been anything left for him to win, -he had turned instinctively toward it. Now he suddenly realised that he -faced his greatest fight. He had often said that he liked fighting; he -had struggled for many years with all the power of nerve and mind. -To-night his brain seemed weary, bruised and scarred as a body might be. -Watching the house where Judith was, contemplating her image, a softness -came over Ellis, new to him; resolution became a wish, and then turned -to yearning. It was with difficulty that he roused himself, surprise -mingling with his contempt of the unrecognised sensation. He was in for -it now, he told himself almost roughly; the game was worth the candle, -and he would see it through. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -INTRODUCING AN ECCENTRIC - - -Mr. Peveril Pease had finished his week's work, and feeling no -obligation to attend the golf club tea, went home and settled himself in -his snuggery among his books. When his feet were once in slippers, his -velvet jacket was on, and he held a well-marked volume in his hand, he -felt he had more true comfort than all the golf clubs in the world could -give. So thorough was his satisfaction that rather than read he gave -himself up to the enjoyment of his well-being. Gazing about the room, -Mr. Pease permitted himself a brief retrospection of his career. - -Few men in the town could with so much right compliment themselves. He -had begun life with nothing but ancestral debts and encumbered property, -and now he was nearly as rich as Ellis, who had started with the -traditional dollar in his pocket. Pease's credit was firm as a rock; the -stock of his bank was quoted--no, it was hoarded. The widow, the orphan, -the struggling clerks who had their money in Pease's hands could sleep -at ease, and the respect in which he was held by the business men of the -city--but he wasn't thinking of that. - -No, this little house was his thought, and this room, and that array of -books. He had been thirteen years of age when his grandfather died, and -within the month he had refused the trustees his permission to sell a -foot of the real estate. Judge Harmon never tired of telling of the -visit of the boy, swelling with rage and resolution. "Cynthia may be -willing, but grandfather never would sell, and I won't have it!" he had -declared, and so strong was the lad's feeling that the trustees, divided -in opinion, had yielded to him, backing the debts of the estate with -their own credit. At eighteen he was practically their adviser and his -own trustee; at twenty he had redeemed the homestead with his earnings; -at twenty-five he had sold a single lot of the down-town property for -what the entire estate would not have brought twelve years before. So -much for determination and a long head. - -Fifteen years more had passed, and still his life had not made him hard -nor calculating. When he left his office he left his business; he went -"home," to the house in which he was born. The little shingled building, -so quaint, had been in the family for six generations; a Percival Pease -founded it, a Pembroke Pease finished it, a Peveril Pease owned it now. -It had never been rebuilt; the wainscot was still the same, the floors -sagged, the stairs were queer, the ceilings low. It corresponded the -least in the world with his riches and his great interests. But Pease -had the heart of a boy and the affections of a woman. The house was his -paradise, the room his bower, the books his especial delight. All his -spare time he spent among them, giving himself to "mental improvement." - -Many people thought him odd; some called him "poor Mr. Pease," with such -pity as is given to the struggling artist or the ambitious novelist, for -Pease had never been even to the high-school, and it seemed foolish for -him to try to cultivate his mind. They did not consider that the grace -of humility was not denied him, with just a touch of that saving -quality, humour. He knew himself fairly well, he guarded himself -successfully, only one person really knew his heart, and for the -opinion of the rest he had a smile. Let them laugh or pity, they had -nothing so fine as he, they were not so happy as he, and his kind of a -fool was not the worst. - -And so we must acknowledge that he was thoroughly complacent. None of -Judith Blanchard's discontent stirred him, none of Mather's anger at the -world, and none of Ellis's desire to advance. This little room gave him -all that he wanted: intellectual improvement, the feeling of progress, -mental satisfaction. Pease went beyond cherishing an ideal of happiness; -he believed that he was happy, and that no one could take his happiness -from him. - -And thinking so at this minute, his eye rested fondly on a motto on the -wall. - -It was from Goethe; it was lettered in old German characters, framed in -passe-partout, and hung above the mantel. Pease had dug it out of -"Faust"; it embodied so completely his notion of existence that he -resolved to keep it before him always. No mere translation could do it -justice; "Gray, dear friend, is all theory, and green the golden tree of -life"--that was too tame. No; the sonorous German could best express it: - - "Grau, theurer Freund, ist aller Theorie, - Und Gruen des Lebens goldner Baum." - -Pease whispered the words to himself. Gray indeed were the lives of all -others; he alone dwelt beneath life's green tree and ate its golden -fruit. This house, this room, these books--ah, Paradise! - -There came a knock at the door. "Peveril?" - -"Yes, Cynthia." - -"Don't forget, little Miss Blanchard is coming to dinner." - -"No, Cynthia." - -She was not requesting him to "dress." He always did. She was not asking -him to be on time; he always was. Being on the safe side of the door, -however, his cousin meant to remind him of her hardihood in inviting to -his table some one young and pretty. - -Not, Miss Cynthia sighed, that it would make any difference to him. When -her visitor arrived a little early, and sat chatting in the parlour, -Miss Pease reflected that Peveril, upstairs, was dressing no more -carefully for this charming girl than he would have done for old Mrs. -Brown. Charming--but he knew nothing of the real, the true, the living -best! - -Thus we may briefly record that Miss Cynthia Pease, who was the one -person that understood her cousin, was not wholly in sympathy with his -pursuits. Not that she would have acknowledged it to him, nor to anyone -else, not even to "little Miss Blanchard," Judith's sister Beth, who was -questioning her in a spirit of fun. - -"I'm so afraid of dining with your cousin!" Beth exclaimed. - -"No, you're not!" contradicted Miss Cynthia grimly. - -"If I should make some slip in statement, or spot the table-cloth! He is -so accurate, they all say." - -"You may depend on him to be polite under all circumstances," responded -Miss Cynthia, glaring. - -"But I should know what he would think," persisted the young lady. - -Miss Cynthia advanced to fury, scarcely repressed. "No, you wouldn't!" -she denied emphatically. "I won't have you laugh at him." - -"Why, you laugh at him yourself," said Beth. "You know you do." - -"And if I do?" retorted Miss Pease. "Let me tell you he's the dearest, -kindest man that ever--" - -"Why, Miss Cynthia," cried the other, "don't I know?" - -"Nobody knows," was the response. - -Now all grades of opposition, from caustic irony to smothered -denunciation, were habitual in Miss Pease's manner, but as she said -"Nobody knows," lo! there were tears in her voice, if not in her eyes. - -"Miss Cynthia!" cried Beth. - -Miss Pease was gaunt and grewsome, so that her manner fitted her -perfectly, but now as she sat winking her eyes and twisting her face she -became pathetic. The girl rose quickly and came to her side. - -"Have I hurt you?" she inquired anxiously. - -"No, child, no," answered Miss Pease, recovering herself. "You didn't -know what a sentimental old fool I am, did you? There, sit down again. -You see," (she hesitated before committing herself further) "I was -thinking, just before you came, of what Peveril has been to me. Your -talk roused me again." - -"He has done a great deal for you?" asked Beth with sympathy. - -"Everything in the world!" answered Miss Cynthia warmly, not having -resumed her manner. "Since our grandfather died Peveril has been my -protector, though he is two years younger. You know we were very poor at -first." - -"Very poor?" - -"We had nothing but debts," stated Miss Cynthia. "We lived in -boarding-houses for seven years before Peveril could buy the homestead -and get the strangers out of it. It was a proud day when he brought me -here, and told me this was mine to live in until the end of my life. And -yet for two years more I went daily to my work--I was in Benjamin's -great dry-goods store, my dear--until when they asked me to be the head -of the linen department Peveril said I should work no more, and -insisted on my staying at home." - -"I never heard of that," cried Beth. "That you were ever in Benjamin's!" - -"And a very good saleswoman I was," said Miss Cynthia. "But after that -the money began to come in to us, and Peveril sold the land where the -Security Building now is. I have not done a piece of work since then, -except for Peveril or for charity. I am a rich woman, my dear." - -"But you do so much for charity!" exclaimed Beth with enthusiasm. - -When it came to praise, Miss Pease became grim at once. "I've got to -keep busy with something," she snapped. - -"But tell me more," begged Beth. - -"There is nothing more," declared Miss Cynthia. "And now I hear him -coming, five minutes before the hour, just as he always does. Don't be -afraid of him; he has the softest heart in the world, as you ought to -discover, since you had the skill to find mine." - -Beth had only the time to squeeze her friend's hand as the two stood up -together. She had discovered Miss Pease's heart; it was an unconscious -specialty of Beth's to find the weak points in the armour of forbidding -persons, and she had on her list of friends more of the lonely and -unknown than had many a worker in organised charity. She was, in fact, a -worker in her own special field, the well-to-do, bringing them the -sympathy and affection which they needed as much as do the poor. She had -neither shrewdness nor experience; what she did was quite unconscious, -but her value was unique. Mr. William Fenno, who had no love for his -wife's pleasures and whose daughters took after their mother, loved to -have the girl with him. Judge Harmon, not quite at home by his own -gas-log, felt more comfortable if Beth were spending the evening with -him--for she made no pretense of coming to see his wife. Quite -unconsciously, a similar bond had been growing up between Beth and Miss -Pease, and took open recognition on that day when Miss Cynthia, allowing -her eyes to be pleased by the girl's freshness, blurted her feeling and -said: "I like you. You are so unlike your sister." - -But now Mr. Pease entered the room, and stood bowing while his cousin -repeated the formula: "Peveril, here is Miss Elizabeth Blanchard. Beth, -you remember my cousin, Mr. Peveril Pease?" - -Beth thought he was "funny," meaning he was peculiar. He was short and -rotund, he was immaculate and formal. His eyes met hers soberly, as if -he had little of his cousin's wit, however much less savage. Talk opened -with the golf club tea, and before the subject was exhausted he led the -conversation dexterously to the weather. Dinner was announced while the -beauty of the spring was yet under discussion, and at table, for a -while, Beth was still repeating to herself that he was a "funny" little -man. - -Curiously, Pease was in an entirely new situation. Never had he been so -placed that he must give an hour's undivided attention to a girl. He had -never learned that girls have individuality; he avoided them as a rule, -and at dinners there was always one at his left hand to relieve the -other at his right, so that he never spoke to either of them long. -Besides, not being regarded as a marrying man, Pease was invariably -given the "sticks" to entertain. Girls had been to him, therefore, -undeveloped creatures, displaying similar characteristics, being usually -unacquainted with serious topics, and (quite as usually) devoid of -personal attractions. Beth Blanchard, however, was something different. -Without dwelling on her charms, it is enough to say that she was -pretty; and without entering upon her mental acquirements, let us -believe that she knew what was going on. She was quite used, moreover, -to the society of older persons, and could meet Pease on many grounds, -although it happened that the subject chosen was Europe. - -"You have been there?" asked Pease quickly when Germany was mentioned. - -"We spent some time there," Beth replied. - -"Of course you have seen Weimar, then," Pease assumed. He happened to be -right. - -"Oh, yes," she answered, quite as if Weimar were still a focus of -travel. "We spent a month there; mamma was quite ill. You know"--and -here she addressed Miss Cynthia--"that she died over there, and then we -came home." - -Mr. Pease, in conjunction with his cousin, murmured his condolences, and -Miss Blanchard, not to make the evening doleful, turned again to speak -of Weimar. - -"We lived quite near to Goethe's house," she said. - -Then she beheld Mr. Pease glow with admiration. "You are very -fortunate," he cried. "The inspiration must have been great." - -"I am no writer, Mr. Pease," returned Beth. - -"But," he explained, "it must have permanently bettered and improved -you." - -"Do you think I needed it?" she flashed. - -Miss Cynthia, at her end of the table, was biting her lip. Pease, not -perceiving that he was being rallied, fell to apologising. "Oh, no," he -gasped. "I meant----" - -She spared him. "I was not serious," she laughed. "You must pardon me." -It was no new matter with her to relieve the embarrassed. Then she led -him once more to the topic. - -"You like Weimar, Mr. Pease?" - -"Oh, I only like Goethe, you know, and Schiller. I've never been from -America." - -"And yet you read German?" - -"Not very well. You see, I----" - -And then he spoke of himself. Miss Cynthia sat amazed. Here was Peveril, -who was always silent regarding his hobby, speaking from his heart. Beth -coaxed a little; he hung back a bit, but he yielded. It was as if a -miser were giving up his gold, yet the gold came. For all that she had -invited Beth there, wishing to stir her cousin from his rut, Miss -Cynthia presently became enraged. Peveril was telling more than he had -ever told her. This chit of a girl, what charm had she? - -But Pease himself, as he told the unaccustomed tale in halting -sentences, felt comfort. It had been a long time repressed within him; -he had seldom touched on it with Cynthia, and though he had not known -it, the loneliness of it had been wearing on him all these years. It was -sympathy that now brought it out, that quality in Beth which could -pierce the armour of such a cynic as Miss Cynthia, or warm so cold a -heart as William Fenno's. Pease yielded to it as frost to the sun. So he -told of himself and his studies, and the impulse of all these years he -confessed at the last. - -"You see," he said, flushing painfully, "it's poetry that I love." - -And he sat, the man of business, with his fair skin pink as a girl's. -Then, lest she should mistake, he explained. - -"You mustn't think," he said eagerly, "that I really suppose I -understand. I know I lose much--I--I'm not very deep, you know. There -are so many subtle things and such beautiful ones that pass me by. -Only, you see [more hesitation], I got such pleasure from the English -poets that I--tried the German. With a dictionary, you know, and a -grammar. And all this is so much to me that I--I don't care for anything -else. Can you understand?" - -Then he was swept by doubt and fear. Would she laugh? Not she! Beth made -him understand she appreciated his feelings, and presently Miss Cynthia -found herself listening to a discussion of Shakespeare. Her lip -curled--how foolish of Peveril! What real interest could Beth take in -his ideas? - -He asked himself the same question, with a sudden start, for Beth -laughed merrily. What had he said that was laughable? She held up a -finger. "Mr. Pease, I am going to accuse you of something. Will you -promise to tell me the truth?" - -This, he dimly felt, was a species of banter. "I promise," he said -uncomfortably. - -"Then, sir, do you memorise?" - -"Why, yes," he confessed. - -"I knew it!" she exclaimed. "Miss Cynthia, are you not ashamed of him? I -know nobody that memorises now, Mr. Pease, except you and--me!" - -He was relieved, and they fell to speaking eagerly. For the next few -minutes Miss Cynthia felt the outrage of hearing poetry quoted at her -table. Wordsworth, Scott, Burns, and then--for Pease was truly -patriotic--Lanier and Longfellow. And so they came to discuss the -meaning of a passage, and took up the subject of "Life." Next, -"Happiness." At all this sentiment Miss Cynthia ground her teeth. - -Beth was of the opinion that environment makes happiness. Pease -maintained that we make our own environment. "Impossible!" said Beth, -thinking of Mr. Fenno and the Judge. - -"Easily done!" declared Pease, thinking of himself. - -Then they spoke of "Ideals of Conduct"--Which of them make most for -Happiness? By little and little they came to the point where Pease felt -impelled to open his breast again. He spoke of his motto, quoting it -clumsily with his self-taught accent, so that a smile almost came to her -lips. She drew from him that he believed he knew the gray of life, and -the green. - -"But, Mr. Pease," Beth objected, "how can you say you know so much of -life when you live so much alone?" - -"We are late--we are late!" cried Miss Cynthia suddenly. "We shall miss -our engagement if we sit so long here." - -And so the two ladies presently went away, refusing all escort. Standing -at the open door, Pease watched them with a strange regret. The thought -of returning to his books was astonishingly unwelcome; they seemed to be -but leather, ink, and paper. He looked up at the heavens. Something was -stinging in his veins: what a lovely world! For the first time he -recognised the beauty of the moon. - -His thoughts were interrupted by a footstep, and there stood Mather. -"Mr. Pease," said he, "this is an unusual hour for business. But the -kind offer which you made me to-day----" He hesitated. - -"The position had only possibilities," answered Pease. "You would be -your own master, because I should leave everything to you, but it would -be like beginning at the bottom again. I knew you would refuse me." - -"You mistake," returned Mather with energy. "I like the chance, and will -build up your venture for you. I am ready to take your instructions -to-night, and go to work Monday morning." - -"Come inside," said Mr. Pease. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -CHEBASSET - - -At the conference between Mather and Pease various matters were -discussed which are not to the direct purpose of this story. Such were, -for instance, the electrical and mechanical devices by which a metal was -to be produced from its ore, either in sheets, pure, or plated on iron. -Pease had bought the patent; the plan commended itself to Mather -immediately; there was "good money" in it. But before anything else -could be done a plant must be secured, a work which Pease expected would -take much time. He watched to see how Mather would propose to go about -it. - -"We must have a good water-supply for the vats," mused Mather. "A -harbour-front will be needed for the coal and ore; that means a suburban -location, which calls again for railroad facilities." - -"Of course there is no mill ready-made?" - -"There is! The old Dye Company's plant at Chebasset." - -"Impossible!" answered Pease at once. - -"Because rich people have summer places thereabouts, and wouldn't like a -mill as neighbour?" - -"Those rich people are our friends," reminded Pease. - -"Mr. Pease," said Mather positively, "I know all the mills of this -neighbourhood. There is no other suitable. To use this plant will save -us a year's time, as well as great expense. The buildings are in good -condition; the vats are large. The harbour is deep; all we need is to -enlarge the wharf and put in new engines. What more could one ask?" - -"Nothing," admitted Pease. - -"Then why not buy? Colonel Blanchard has been trying to sell these ten -years; he lost much money there. The price is so low that Fenno or -Branderson could easily have protected themselves." - -Pease still hesitated. - -"One thing more," said Mather. "I have visited in Chebasset, for short -periods; I know the place fairly well. The mill is in the remotest -corner of the town, and the dirtiest; there are poor houses there, -wretched sanitation, and a saloon on mill property. It's a good place -gone to seed. I'd like to clean it out." - -Mr. Pease thought he saw a way. "Let this settle it. If the Colonel is -willing to sell, there will be no reason why we should not buy." - -"I may go ahead on that understanding?" - -"You may." - -Mather rose. "The Colonel will be willing to sell. If you put this in my -hands, and will not appear, I can get the place cheap. People are ready -to see me start on another fool's errand at any time." - -"Go ahead, then; you know how much I am willing to spend. Attend to -everything and spare me the details. But," added Pease kindly, "I am -sorry to see you quite so bitter. Your friends will yet put you back in -Ellis's place." - -"When he has a clear majority of fifty votes in our small issue of -stock? Ah, let me go my own way, Mr. Pease. I see here a chance to do a -good thing; I need a wrestle with business. After I have been a month at -this you will find me a different man." - -They parted, each with a little envy of the other. Mather envied Pease -his accomplishments, the work that stood in his name; Pease coveted the -other's youth. But each was glad that they were working together. Pease -found that the purchase was accomplished within a fortnight, and that -men were soon at work on alterations in the mills. Those were matters in -which he did not concern himself; the scheme was bound to succeed; he -had little money in it (as money went with him), and he was interested -to see what Mather would make of the business. Trouble in the form of -criticism was bound to come. - -When it came the ladies took an active hand in it. Mrs. Fenno complained -that the sky-line of her view would be broken by the new chimney; Mrs. -Branderson had no relish for the aspect of the projected coal-wharf. -Young people believed that the river would be spoiled for canoeing, and -all agreed that the village would be no longer bearable, with the -families of fifty imported workmen to make it noisy and dirty. Moreover, -if the villagers themselves should give up their old occupations of -fishing, clam-digging, and market-gardening, for the steadier work in -the mill, then where would the cottagers look for their lobsters, their -stews, and their fresh vegetables? But the plan was put through. The -chimney went up, the wharf was enlarged, coal and ore barges appeared in -the little harbour, and in a surprisingly short time the old Dye -Company's mill was ready for work. Pease saw his returns promised a year -before he had expected, but George Mather was no longer popular. Mrs. -Fenno frowned at him, Mrs. Branderson scolded, and though their husbands -laughed at the young man and said he had been clever, many people -clamoured, and among them Judith Blanchard. - -This move of Mather's had taken her by surprise; at a step he had gained -a new position. No offers from the rich men moved him to sell; he -replied that he meant to carry out his plans. So a whole section of the -town was put in order for the families of the new workmen. Judith, -hearing of all this, complained to Mather when she met him. - -"And yet," he responded, "the mill is a mile from the nearest estate; -the whole town lies between. As for what clearing up I've done, I value -picturesqueness, Judith, but the place is now ten times healthier. And -we are putting in smoke-consumers." - -"Yet from most of our houses we can see your chimney." - -"Judith, for that one eyesore which I put up I will remove ten from the -town." - -"But who asked you to do it? You never lived here; you have no love for -the place." - -"I have lived," he replied, "in other New England towns, equally -degenerate." - -"I am not speaking of the townspeople," she said. "I mean the summer -residents." - -"Wasn't it your father's matter to think of them?" - -Judith had felt the discussion to be going against her. Therefore she -answered with some warmth: "That is another question entirely!" - -"I beg your pardon, Judith," he said. "But mayn't I describe my plans?" - -"No," she answered; "I don't think it is necessary." - -"Very well," he returned, and made no attempt to say more. Hurt, he fell -into a mood of dogged endurance. "Very well," he repeated, and let the -matter drop. Then Judith's interest was roused too late; he might really -have had something to say. She knew that dirt was unhealthy; she -remembered that in Chebasset drunkards on the street were more plentiful -than in Stirling. Yet her generosity did not quite extend to recalling -her words--partly because of natural pride, partly because she knew his -interest in her and would not encourage it, partly again because she -still resented his words to Ellis in her presence. And so the breach -between them remained. - -Yet he had already impressed her, by his manly readiness to begin life -again, and by his steadiness under her fire. Confidence was, to Judith, -almost a virtue. And the idea of reform always appealed to her: had the -place been really so bad? - -One by one the households had been moving down to Chebasset, and Beth -had already opened the Blanchard cottage. On the evening after Judith -had spoken with Mather she asked if Beth had noticed the changes in -Chebasset. - -"George's? At his mill?" asked Beth. "I think it's much improved. Those -horrid tumble-down shanties are gone, and there are new houses there -now--shingled and stained they are to be--with new fences." - -"Father," asked Judith, "why didn't you do that?" - -"My dear child," was his response, "how could I afford it?" The Colonel -was always nervous when the subject of the new mill was broached, and -quitted it as soon as possible. But Judith pursued him. - -"I asked George if he had not treated us unfairly--the property owners, -I mean. He seemed to think that was your affair." - -Beth was up in arms at once. "For that chimney? He laid the blame on -papa?" - -The Colonel wiped his flowing mustache, and looked at Judith; Beth's -outraged cry did not interest him so much as his elder daughter's stand. -"What did you say to him?" he asked. - -"I said that was another question." - -"So it is," agreed the Colonel. "Entirely different." He looked at Beth -to see if she were satisfied; she rose and came behind his chair, where -she began smoothing his hair. - -"Poor papa," she purred. - -Blanchard swelled his chest. "Thank you, Beth," he said, but his -thoughts went back to Judith. People took different stands on this -matter; he was anxious to have Judith on his side. Fenno had told the -Colonel that he, Fenno, ought to have been informed of the proposed -sale; Branderson, less bluntly, had intimated the same. It was possible -that Judith might take a similar view. - -"I had others beside myself to consider," he said. "Dear papa!" murmured -Beth. But Judith took it differently. - -"I don't want to profit by the sale," she stated. - -The Colonel offered no explanation. At the time of the sale he had not -been thinking of his daughters, but of certain pressing creditors. So -the money had been welcome and was already partly gone. He answered with -grim knowledge of a hidden meaning. - -"I'll take care you shall not profit by the transaction, Judith. But I -am sorry that the mill is sold. I hate a disturbance." - -"Don't you be sorry, papa!" exhorted Beth. But Judith delivered a shot -which hit her parent between wind and water. It was one of those -impromptus which come too quickly to be checked. - -"Perhaps Mr. Fenno would have given more." - -"Judith!" shouted her father, bouncing in his chair. - -"I beg your pardon, papa," she said humbly. - -When Judith was humble she was charming; the Colonel accepted her kiss -and pardoned her. As for herself, she felt her spirit lightened, as by -an electric discharge, and began to look at the whole question of -Mather's mill more temperately. Why should she grudge him his success? -It was so much less than Ellis's. When next she met Mather she was -gracious to him, and was ready to hear a full account of all his plans, -if only he would open the subject. He avoided it. - -Then the Blanchards moved to Chebasset, and Judith saw the mill and -chimney with her own eyes. People had stopped scolding about them; she -found them not so bad as had been reported, and the chimney, though -certainly tall, gave off but the slightest film of smoke. So thorough -were Mather's improvements that they forced Judith's admiration. When -she first went to the grocer's and, after making her purchases, inquired -of the changes in the town, she heard a torrent of praise of Mather. - -"It's a bad place he's cleaned out," the grocer said, coming very close -and speaking confidentially. "Many young fellows were led wrong there, -but the biggest saloon's gone now, and some of the worst men have left -the town, and a man can feel that his own children have a chance of -growing up decent. It's two boys I have, Miss Blanchard, that I was -worrying about till Mr. Mather came." - -"I am glad things are so much better," Judith said. - -"They'll be better yet," the grocer responded. "Gross, the other -saloon-keeper, has got to look after himself now. Mr. Mather had him in -court only the other day--look, there they are now." - -On the sidewalk outside stood a large man, gross as was his name; across -the street Mather was unconcernedly walking. The saloon-keeper raised a -fist and shouted at Mather, who paused and looked over at him -inquiringly. - -"I'll be even with you!" shouted Gross again. - -"Wait a bit," answered Mather cheerfully, "I'll come over." He crossed -the street and stepped directly to the saloon-keeper. "You'll be even -with me for what, Mr. Gross?" - -"For that fine," answered the other. "I'll have you in court yet, see if -I don't." - -"You'll have me in court," rejoined Mather, "when you catch me selling -whisky to minors, not before, Mr. Gross. And while we're on this subject -I may as well say that I've just sworn out a second warrant against -you." - -The saloon-keeper backed away from the very cool young man. "What yer -goin' ter do?" he asked. - -"I'm going to see," Mather answered, "that you observe the liquor laws. -And when your license comes before the selectmen for renewal, I shall be -at the hearing." - -On Gross's face appeared blotches of white. "We'll see!" he blustered. - -"We'll see," agreed Mather, and turned away. - -The grocer spoke in Judith's ear. "That's the stuff! That's what, Miss -Blanchard!" Waiting till Mather was gone, Judith left the shop and went -home very thoughtful. So George was working, on however small a scale, -for reform and progress. She could not fail to see that for his coming -the whole town had a brisker, brighter look. Chebasset streets had been -dull, sleepy, unpainted. Now fences were repaired, houses were -freshened, and the townspeople looked better dressed, because the men -were earning more money at the mill, or the women were gaining livings -by boarding and lodging the new-comers. The town was changed, and Mather -was the cause. - -Then she learned more of him. He was domesticating himself there, kept a -cat-boat, and had even bought a cottage. Beth pointed out the little -house, a good example of provincial architecture. - -"You didn't tell us you were going to buy," Judith reproached him when -he came to call. - -"Oh," he answered indirectly, "I fell in love with the place, and the -family mahogany fits in there exactly. Did you notice my roses?" - -Then he spoke of gardening, and gave Judith no chance to tell him what -she thought about his work. Had he done so, she might even have let him -know that she had overheard his talk with Gross, and that his action -pleased her. But he avoided the subject; his call was brief, and after -he had gone he did not return for a number of days. Chebasset was not -lively that summer; Judith grew lonesome, and more than once thought of -Mather. His conduct piqued and puzzled her. Now was his chance, as he -ought to know. What had become of the lover who used to bring to her his -hopes and fears? - -As for that lover, he had less time at his disposal than Judith -supposed. All day he was at the mill, or else went to Stirling on -necessary business; at night he was very tired. Yet though he knew he -was leaving Judith to her own devices, he did it deliberately. Until she -was tired of freedom, until she had satisfied her interest in the great -world, she would come to no man's call. Perhaps his conclusion was wise, -perhaps it was not, for while at a distance he watched Judith and -weighed his chances, Ellis was doing the same. - -To the outsider, Mather's path seemed clear; he lived in the same town -with Judith, might see her every day, and, worst of all, was prospering. -"I'll touch him up," said Ellis grimly to himself. "He'll buy a house, -will he?" And from that time he kept well informed of Mather's business -acts, watching for a chance to trip him. Ellis knew all the ways of -those three great forces: politics, capital, and labour; he could pull -so many wires that he counted on acting unobserved. - -Minor annoyances met Mather in his business, traceable to no particular -source. There was evident discrimination in railroad rates, and yet so -small was the increase that proof was difficult. Freight was mislaid and -mishandled; it was frequently very vexing. But the real attempt to -cripple the new business came toward the middle of the summer, when -Ellis, weary of the weak attempts of his subordinates at annoyance, took -a hand himself, and looked for some vital flaw in the safeguards of the -Electrolytic Company. He believed he found it, and various legal notices -came to Mather, all of which remained unanswered. Finally an important -official came in person to the office. He introduced himself as Mr. -Daggett of the harbour commission. - -"I have written you several times," he complained. - -"So you have," answered Mather. "Miss Jenks, may Mr. Daggett and I have -the office to ourselves for a while? I take it," he added, when the door -closed behind the stenographer, "that we are going to be rude to each -other. Have a cigar?" - -"Thanks," said Daggett, "but I don't see why ye didn't answer." - -"I was too busy. Besides, I wanted to get you down here, so as to settle -the matter once for all. Will you state the matter plainly; your letters -were vague? That is the wharf out there." - -Mr. Daggett viewed it through the window. "Yes, it's surely a long -wharf. Twenty feet beyond the harbour line. Ye'll have to take it down." - -"Or else?" demanded Mather. - -"Show a permit." - -"Come, there's one other choice." - -"Pay a fine," grinned Daggett. "We've set a pretty large sum. The -board's irritated, ye see, because ye've paid so little attention to -us." - -"The board never fails to answer letters, does it?" inquired Mather. - -"What do you mean?" - -"You're too busy, I suppose. And you don't appear to remember seeing me -before, Mr. Daggett." - -"Have I?" asked the commissioner. - -"You don't recollect that I wrote about this matter two months ago? I -had to go to the office to get an answer. You were deep in affairs, Mr. -Daggett. I found you and two others playing cards." - -"Was I?" asked Daggett. - -"When was this harbour line established, anyway? Wasn't it about two -weeks ago?" - -"Certainly," Mr. Daggett answered. "That has nothing to do with it. But -what did we tell you at the office--I can't remember your coming." - -"I wasn't there long enough to make much impression," said Mather. "One -of your friends told me that all fools knew there was no harbour line -here, and I didn't need your permission." - -"Hm!" remarked Daggett doubtfully. Then he brightened. "Did we give you -that in writing?" - -"I didn't ask you for it. You seemed so anxious to go on with your game -that I didn't trouble you further." - -"Then you have no permission," stated Daggett. "And now that there is a -harbour line, what will you do about it?" - -"I learned all I wanted of you," said Mather. He had not yet risen from -his desk, but now he did so, and going over to his safe, he threw it -open. "I asked nothing further because, there being no harbour line, a -permit wouldn't have been worth the paper it was written on. I wrote to -the Secretary of the Navy." Mather drew a document from a drawer of the -safe. "Do you care to see his answer?" - -"Whew!" whistled Daggett. "Well, I suppose I might as well." - -Mather gave him the paper. "You will see that I have permission to build -ten feet farther if I want to, and fifteen broader. I may also build -another wharf if I wish, lower down. Are you satisfied?" He touched the -bell. "You may come in now, Miss Jenks. Thank you for taking it so -easily, Mr. Daggett. I won't keep you from your game any longer. -Good-day." - ---"And before I left the office he was hard at work again, Mr. Ellis," -reported Daggett. "Save me, but he's taken pretty good care of himself, -and that's a fact." - -Ellis had no comments to make; he did his growling to himself. Seeing -nothing further to do, he left Mather alone. - -Thus time passed by till that midsummer day when Ellis took the trolley -to Chebasset and, once there, strolled among its streets. He viewed the -mill from a distance and gritted his teeth at the sight. Mather was well -ensconced; it seemed altogether too likely that he might win a wife, -among his other successes. Then the promoter left the town and climbed -above it on the winding road, viewing the estates of the summer -residents as one by one he passed their gates. Should he enter at the -Judge's? - -A light step sounded on the road as he hesitated at the gate. Someone -spoke his name, and there stood Judith Blanchard. - -"Here, and in business hours?" she asked. - -"My day's work was done," he answered. "Besides, it was not all pleasure -that brought me." - -Judith's eyes brightened. "Tell me," she suggested. - -"Why should I tell you?" he asked bluntly. But the brusqueness only -pleased her; he was a man of secrets. - -"No reason at all," she answered. - -"And yet," he said, "your advice would be valuable, if you will not -tell." - -"I! I tell?" she asked. "You do not know me." - -"Then," he said, "I came to look at land here." - -"To look at land here?" she repeated, questioning. "Can you buy here?" - -"There is land," he said. "The price would be doubled if it were known I -am after it. I have the refusal of it, through agents." - -"Where does it lie?" she asked. - -"Farther up the road." - -"You must not be seen going to it," she declared. "People would take -alarm----" She stopped, embarrassed. - -"I do not mind," he said, and yet she felt his bitterness. "I am not -considered a good neighbour." - -"It is wrong of people," she declared earnestly. - -"I should not be welcome on any one of these piazzas," he said, -indicating the villas beyond them. "The Judge doesn't like me--your own -father has no use for me." - -"Will you come and try?" she cried. "I should like to see if my father -will be rude to my guest." - -"You are very kind," he said, "but do you consider----?" - -"I have invited you," she interrupted. "Will you come?" - -"With pleasure," he answered. They went up the hill together. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -THE PROGRESS OF ACQUAINTANCE - - -Judith, before she met Ellis for this second time, had been bored. -Chebasset was so dull that it was dreary; in the country-houses were -given little teas, slow whist-parties, or stupid luncheons. Of the young -people of her age some had married, others had gone into business, and -the self-content of the first of these was not to be disturbed, nor the -fatigue of the others to be increased, for the sake of giving Judith a -good time. She became a little impatient with her surroundings, -therefore, and as the sizzling summer brought physical discomfort, she -was inclined to lay the blame where it could scarcely with justice be -said to belong. Yet while her acquaintances were not responsible for the -heat, Judith, with her abundant energies unused, was right in feeling -that society was sunk in sloth, and that instead of giving itself to -petty diversions it had better do something worth while. She was -discontented with herself, her idleness, her uselessness; she felt that -she would rather face even the heat of the city, and be doing, than stay -longer on her piazza and keep cool. Therefore she had sought the dusty -road as a sort of penance, and meeting Ellis, had been reminded of what -he stood for: the world of working men and women. - -She had thought of him many times since their first meeting, making his -achievements a standard to which only Pease and Fenno approximated, and -of which Mather fell far short. She had continued to read of Ellis in -the newspapers, to watch his slow course of uninterrupted success, and -had come to accept the popular idea of his irresistible genius. Feeling -this natural admiration of his immense energy and skill, in her heart -she made little of the two obstacles which were said to lie in his path. -For it was claimed, first, that some day the street-railway would prove -too much for him, bringing him as it did in contact with the organised -mass of labourers, and with the public which Mather had accustomed to an -excellent standard of service. Could Ellis always maintain the present -delicate balance between dividends, wages, and efficiency? Again it was -said that some day he would come in conflict with Judith's own class, -which, when it chose to exert its power, would rise and hurl him down. -Judith put no belief in either of these prophesies, considering Ellis -able to avoid all difficulties, her caste too flabby to oppose him. So -she thought of him as destined always to conquer; he would win his way -even among the elect, and might become a friend of hers. For she could -help him; they were alike in their loneliness, and their outlook upon -life was the same. Therefore when she met him she welcomed him. - -A fillip to the wheel of her fate was given as she and Ellis went up the -hill. They met Miss Fenno coming down. Now Miss Fenno was the extreme -type of the society-bred person, knowing nothing but the one thing. Her -interests were so small that they included less than the proverbial -four-hundred people; her prejudices were so large that they formed a -sort of Chinese wall to exclude any real humanity of soul. And all she -did at this juncture was to gaze very superciliously at Ellis, and then -to give the coldest of nods to Judith as she passed. - -"The Fenno manner," grumbled Ellis to himself. - -But Judith flamed with resentment. She brought Ellis up to her own -piazza, a few minutes later, with that in her bearing which her father -recognised as her panoply of war: quietness, erectness, something of -hauteur. The Colonel rose hastily. - -"I have brought Mr. Ellis," she said. - -"Glad to see him!" exclaimed the Colonel as if he had been spurred. "Mr. -Ellis is a stranger in Chebasset." - -Ellis had the wisdom to attempt no manner. "I come here seldom," he -responded. "You are very kind to welcome me, Colonel." - -He wondered if the use of the title were proper in the upper circle, and -if he should have answered differently. Moments such as this made the -game seem scarcely worth the candle; the nerve and fiber used up were -more than a day of business would require. But his qualities asserted -themselves. Here he was where he most wanted to be; he meant to win the -right to come again. - -"What do you think of our view?" the Colonel asked, leading his guest to -the edge of the piazza. The hill fell away steeply, the town lay below, -and scattered on the farther hillsides were the villas of the -well-to-do. The Colonel began pointing out the residences. "Alfred Fenno -over there--Alfred, not William, you know; richer than his brother, but -not so prominent. And down there is Branderson; he overlooks the river, -but he also sees the new chimney, which we miss." The Colonel added, "A -good deal of money he has spent there." - -"I should think so," agreed Ellis. - -"The Dents are over there," Blanchard proceeded. "Rather pretentious the -house is, in my opinion, like--" his voice faded away; he had had in -mind Ellis's own house in the city. "----Er, gingerbready, don't you -think?" - -"The elms don't let me see it very well," Ellis was glad to answer. For -what was gingerbready? Sticky? - -"But much money in it," said the Colonel. "Dent has made a good thing of -his mills." - -"Very good thing," murmured Ellis. He was interested to hear these -comments of an insider. - -"Kingston's place is over there," continued the Colonel. "Now, I like, -do you know, Mr. Ellis, what Kingston has done with that house. Small, -but a gem, sir--a gem! Money has not been spared--and there's lots of -money there!" quoth the Colonel, wagging his head. - -Ellis began to perceive the monotony of these descriptions. Money, -riches; riches, money. And there was an unction to each utterance which -might betray the inner man. Judith perceived this also. - -"Let us have tea," she said, and going where the tea-table stood, she -rang for the maid. But the Colonel continued: - -"And William Fenno is over there--a fine house, Mr. Ellis; pure -Georgian, a hundred years old if it's a day. A very old family, and a -very old family fortune. The West India trade did it, before our -shipping declined." - -"Long ago," murmured Ellis. He knew very little of those old days. The -present and the immediate future concerned him, and as for the causes of -industrial changes, he was one himself. - -"Come," insisted Judith, "come and sit down, and let us leave off -talking of people's possessions." - -"Judith! My dear!" remonstrated the Colonel. But the maid was bringing -out the steaming kettle, and he took his seat by the table. "My -daughter," he said to Ellis, half playfully, "does not concern herself -with things which you and I must consider." - -Judith raised her eyebrows. "Do you take sugar, Mr. Ellis?" she asked. - -"Sugar, if you please," he answered. He was divided in his interest as -he sat there, for he had taken from the chair, and now held in his hand, -the newspaper which the Colonel had been reading as they arrived. Ellis -saw pencillings beside the stock-exchange reports, but though he wished -to read them he did not dare, and so laid the paper aside to watch -Judith make the tea. This was new to him. Mrs. Harmon had never taken -the trouble to offer him tea, though the gaudy outfit stood always in -her parlour. He knew that the "proper thing" was his at last, in this -detail, but how to take the cup, how hold it, drink from it? Confound -the schoolboy feeling! - -"It was hot in the city to-day?" asked the Colonel. - -"Uncomfortable," answered Ellis. "You are fortunate, Miss Blanchard, not -to have to go to the city every day, as some girls do." - -"I'm not so sure," she responded. "It's dull here, doing nothing. I -sometimes wish I were a stenographer." - -"Judith!" exclaimed her father. - -"To earn your own living?" asked Ellis. - -"I should not be afraid to try," she replied. - -"You'd make a good stenographer, I do believe," he exclaimed. - -"Thank you," she answered. - -His enthusiasm mounted. "I have a situation open!" he cried. - -"You wouldn't find her spelling perfect," commented the Colonel grimly. -He laughed with immense enjoyment at his joke, and at the moment Beth -Blanchard came out of the house and joined them. - -Ellis did not see her at first; he was watching the Colonel, and divined -that no great barrier separated him from the aristocrat; there had been -in Blanchard's manner nothing that expressed repulsion--nothing like -Fenno's coolness, for instance, or the constant scrutiny which was so -uncomfortable. Blanchard had seemed willing to fill up his idle hours by -speech with any one; he was a new specimen, therefore, and Ellis was -studying him, when of a sudden he heard Judith speak his name, and -looked up to meet the gaze of a pair of quiet eyes. With a little start -he scrambled to his feet. - -"My sister," Judith was saying. - -He bowed and endeavoured to speak, but he felt that the beginning was -wrong. Beth was in turn dissecting him; she was something entirely -different from Judith, more thoughtful, less headstrong. The idea that -here was an adverse influence came into his mind, as he stammered that -he was pleased to meet her. - -"Thank you, Mr. Ellis," she answered. Judith noticed that Beth on her -part expressed no pleasure. The little sister had individuality, with a -persistence in her own opinion which sometimes contrasted strongly with -her usual softness. But the incident was brief, for Beth's eye lighted -as she saw a visitor at the corner of the piazza, hesitating with hat in -hand. - -"Mr. Pease!" she exclaimed. - -The little conventionalities of this new welcome also passed. Mr. Pease -had met Mr. Ellis; he was delighted to find the family at home; the -others were equally pleased that he had come. But when the pause came it -was awkward, for Judith and Ellis were clearly uncongenial with Beth and -Pease; it required the Colonel's intervention to prevent a hopeless -attempt at general conversation. He drew Ellis away; Judith followed, -and Beth sat down to serve Pease with tea. - -Then the Colonel himself withdrew, on pretext of the need to catch the -mail. He went into the library to write, and Judith turned to Ellis. - -"Can we go from here to see the land you spoke of?" - -"The old Welton place," he said. "Do you know the way?" - -"Certainly," answered Judith. They excused themselves to the others. - -As they prepared to go, the Colonel looked at them from his desk; then -turned his eyes on Beth and Pease. A thrill of wonder, then a sense of -exultation seized him. Attractive girls they both were, and the men were -the two richest in the city. - -Judith conducted Ellis through shrubbery and across fields, up the -hillside to a spot where little trees were growing in an old cellar, -while charred timbers lying half buried spoke of the catastrophe which -had destroyed the house. "I remember the fire," Judith said. "I was a -child then, but I stood at the window in the night, mother holding me, -and watched the house burn down. Mr. Welton would neither build again -nor sell. But the place is on the market now?" - -"He's to marry again, I understand," answered Ellis. They both accepted -the fact as explaining any and all departures from previous lines of -conduct. - -"Would you build on this spot?" she asked him. - -"What would you advise?" he returned. She swept the situation with her -gaze. - -"There are sites higher up, or lower down," she said. "Lower is too low. -Higher--you might see the chimney." - -Ellis noted with satisfaction the prejudice against Mather's landmark, -but he passed the remark by. "Don't you like," he said, "a house placed -at the highest possible point? It is so striking." - -"Couldn't it be too much so?" she inquired. - -He turned his sharp look on her, willing to take a lesson and at the -same time make it evident that he welcomed the instruction. "That is a -new idea," he said. "It explains why that chimney, for instance, is -unpleasant." - -"It is so tall and--stupid," explained Judith; "and you never can get -rid of it." - -"I understand," he said. "Then perhaps this is the best place to build. -I could get it roofed in before winter, easily, and have the whole thing -ready by next summer. Stables where the barn stands, I suppose. My -architect could get out the plans in a fortnight." - -"The same architect," queried Judith, "that built your city house?" -There was that in her voice which seized Ellis's attention. - -"You don't like his work?" he demanded. - -"Why," she hesitated, caught, "I--you wouldn't put a city house here, -would you?" - -"I like the kind," he said. "Stone, you know; turrets, carvings, imps, -and that sort of thing. All hand-work, but they get them out quickly. -Kind of a tall house. Wouldn't that do here?" - -"No, no, Mr. Ellis," she answered quickly, almost shuddering at his -description. "Think how out of place--here. On a hill a low house, but a -long one if you need it, is proper." - -"Oh," he said slowly, thinking. "Seems reasonable. But tall is the kind -Smithson always builds." - -"I know," answered Judith. Smithson was responsible for a good deal, in -the city. - -Again Ellis searched her face. "You don't care for my city house?" - -She had to tell the truth. "For my taste," she acknowledged, "it's a -little--ornate." - -"That's ornamental?" he asked. "But that's what I like about it. Don't -the rest of my neighbours care for it any more than you do?" - -"Some do not," she admitted. - -"I guess that most of you don't, then," he decided. "Well, well, how a -fellow makes mistakes! One of those quiet buildings with columns, now, -such as I tore down, I suppose would have been just the thing?" - -"Yes," she said. "But Mr. Ellis, you mustn't think----" - -He smiled. "Never mind, Miss Blanchard. You would say something nice, -I'm sure, but the mischief's done; the building's there, ain't it?" - -"I wish----" she began. - -"And really I'm obliged to you," he went on. "Because I might have built -a house here just like the other. Now we'll have it right--if I decide -to build here at all." - -"Then you've not made up your mind?" - -"Almost," he said. "The bargain's all but closed. Only it seems so -useless, for a bachelor." He looked at her a moment. "Give me your -advice," he begged. "Sometimes I think I'm doing the foolish thing." - -"Why, Mr. Ellis, what can I--and it's not my affair." - -"Make it your affair!" he urged. "This is very important to me. I don't -want to sicken these people by crowding in; you saw what Miss Fenno -thought of me this afternoon. But if there is any chance for me--what do -you say?" - -It was the mention of Miss Fenno that did it. She sprang up in Judith's -consciousness, clothed in her armour of correctness--proper, prim, and -stupid. And in Judith was roused wrath against this type of her life, -against her class and its narrowness. She obeyed her impulse, and turned -a quickening glance on him. - -"Would you turn back now?" she asked. - -"That is enough!" he cried, with sudden vehemence. - -For a while they stood and said no more. Judith saw that he looked -around him on the level space where his house was to stand; then he cast -his glance down toward those estates which he would overlook. His eye -almost flashed--was there more of the hawk or the eagle in his gaze? -Judith thought it was the eagle; she knew she had stirred him anew to -the struggle, and was exhilarated. Unmarked at the moment, she had taken -a step important to them both. She had swayed him to an important -decision, and had become in a sense an adviser. - -Yet aside from that, she had stimulated him strangely. Her enthusiasm -was communicable--not through its loftiness, for from that he shrank -with mistrust, but through its energy and daring. She drew him in spite -of her ignorance and misconceptions: dangerous as these might be to him -if she should come to learn the truth about his practices, he thought -that in her love of action lay an offset to them, while her restlessness -and curiosity were two strong motives in his favour. She was fearless, -even bold, and that high spirit of hers had more charm for him than all -her beauty. He did not see, and it was long before he understood, that -something entirely new in him had been roused by contact with her; the -most that he felt was that he was satisfied as never before, that she -had strengthened his impulse to work and to achieve, and that with her -to help him he would be irresistible. Yes, he had chosen well! - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -NEW IDEAS - - -A parting shot in conversation sometimes rankles like the Parthian's -arrow. So it had been with Pease. Beth had said to him: "How can you -think you know life, when you live so much alone?"--words to that -effect. He had had no chance to defend himself to her, and in -consequence had been defending himself to himself ever since. Truly a -serious mind is a heavy burden. - -Finally he had come down to Chebasset to get the matter off his mind; at -least, such was his real purpose. He coloured it with the intention of -"looking in at the mill," and gave Mather a few words at the office. -Mather had been working at his desk, as Mr. Daggett, the Harbour -Commissioner, had found and left him. Orders, Mather said, were piling -in too fast. - -Pease smiled. "Enlarge, then." - -"Delay in profits," warned Mather. "No dividend this quarter." - -"Go ahead just the same," said Pease. "I hoped for this." - -Mather began writing. "Come, leave work," invited Pease. "I'm going up -to the Blanchards'. Come with me." - -"I'm ordering coal and material," said Mather. "We have plenty of ore, -but the new work must begin soon." - -Pease struck his hand upon the desk. "Do you mean," he demanded, "that -you are writing about the enlargements already?" - -"Plans were made long ago," answered Mather. - -"What do you do for exercise?" cried Pease. "How do you keep well? I'll -not be responsible, mind, for your breakdown when it comes." - -But he made no impression and went away alone, climbed the hill, and -found the Blanchards on their piazza. Ellis was more than he had -bargained for, and the Colonel had never been exactly to Pease's taste, -but they departed, leaving him alone with Beth. She presently noticed -the signs that he was endeavouring to bring the conversation to a -particular subject, as one becomes aware of a heavy vessel trying to get -under way. So she gave him the chance to speak. - -"Miss Blanchard," he said, when he found that he might forge ahead, "you -said something the other day--other evening--against which I must defend -myself. That I live much alone." - -She remembered at once, flashed back in her mind to that whole -conversation, and was ready to tease him. Tease him she did as he began -his explanation; she refused to be persuaded that he did not live alone. -He might enumerate dinners, might point to his pursuits, might speak of -the hundred people of all classes with whom he came in close daily -contact: she would not acknowledge that she had been wrong. - -"You are your mind," she declared, "and your mind is aloof." - -He would have grieved, but that he felt again, dimly as before, that she -was rallying him. And he was pleased that she did not fear him, nor call -him Sir--that title which causes such a painful feeling of seniority. -She gave him a feeling of confidence, of youthfulness, which had not -been his even in boyhood. He had been "Old Pease" then; he was "Old -Pease" to many people still. The respect in which young and old held him -was a natural, if very formal atmosphere. This defiance of Beth's came -upon him like a fresh breeze, bringing younger life. He threw off his -earnestness at last and laughed with her at himself. - -"Upon my word!" thought the Colonel, on whose ears such laughter had a -new sound. He looked out of the window; Pease was actually merry. -"Second childhood," grinned the Colonel, as he returned to his writing. - -Beth discovered that Pease was no fossil, and began to enjoy herself -less at his expense but more for other reasons. He could never lose the -flavour of originality, for his odd manner's sake. Even as he sat and -laughed he was upright and precise, though the twinkle was genuine and -the noise was hearty. Then she rose from the tea-table, and they went to -the piazza's edge together. There they discovered Judith returning with -Ellis. - -"Come away," said Beth quickly; "there are places where we can go. They -have not seen us; take your hat." - -This was wonderful, slipping with a girl away from other people, and -Pease felt the delight of it. Fleeing by passages he had never seen, in -a house he had never before entered, smacked of the youthful and -romantic. Beth brought him out behind the house, and thirty seconds put -them in shrubbery. She led the way, not suspecting that his mental -vision was dazzled by new vistas. - -For Pease would have faced Ellis and Judith as a duty, borne with their -conversation, and returned home without a sigh for the wasted hour. Such -was his conception of life--to take what was sent, nor avoid the -unpleasant. It had gone so far that in some matters he did not consult -his own feelings at all, but gave his time to others, recognising -himself as a trustee for their benefit. The good which can be done in -such a way is enormous, in business or professional matters merely; but -Pease had carried the habit into his social scheme, and was therefore -the sufferer from his own good nature, the victim of every bore. It was -a revelation that one could exercise choice, and could flee (losing -dignity, but gaining in romance) from the unpleasant. So that boyish -thrill came over him, with a manly one besides as he felt the compliment -Beth paid him. It put them on a closer footing when, laughing and out of -breath, she sat in a garden seat and motioned him to take the place -beside her. - -"Do you think me foolish?" she asked. - -"Not at all!" he answered eagerly. - -"But perhaps you wished to stay and meet Mr. Ellis?" - -"Not for anything!" he averred. - -Then she looked at him soberly. "What do you think of him?" She posed -him, for polite vagueness was his desire, and he could not find the -words. - -"He is----" he hesitated, "very--er, pleasant, of course. Not my--kind, -perhaps." - -"And you really do not like him," she stated, so simply and confidently -that in all innocence he answered "Yes," and then could have bitten his -tongue off. - -"Neither do I," she acknowledged. - -And so those two took the same important step which Judith and Ellis had -already taken--of showing true feeling to each other, and breaking rules -thereby. For Beth, while not reserved, chose her confidants carefully, -after long trial; and Pease's habit had been never to acknowledge -personal feeling against any one, least of all a business rival. - -"Judith has encouraged him before," said Beth. "People talked of her -when she met him; they will do so the more now that she has asked him -here. Not that she will care for that, Mr. Pease, but I shall not enjoy -it." - -"Of course you will not," he agreed. - -They hovered on the verge of confidences for a moment, then Beth took -the plunge. She looked at Pease with a little distress in her eyes. -"Judith is headstrong," she said. "She is discontented, but does not -know what she wants. I have sometimes thought that George Mather, if he -only knew how, might----" - -"Yes," said Pease, filling the pause. "I wish he did. He is not happy -himself, poor fellow. They have been intimate?" - -"Till within a little while. But they are both too masterful. And yet I -sometimes think she has him always in mind, but as if defying him, do -you understand?" - -"Indeed?" he murmured. - -"I hope," said Beth, "that this acquaintance of hers with Mr. Ellis is -just a phase of that. If it is not, and if she should--Judith cares so -little for people's opinions, you know." - -"It would be very--painful," murmured Pease. "But it has not come to -anything of that sort yet?" - -"No, but I know Judith so well that I don't know what she'll do." And -Beth concluded her confidences in order to draw some from Pease. The -sort of man Ellis was: could he be called dishonest? He was not of -course a gentleman? Pease cast off restraint and answered frankly; she -found he had considerable power of defining his thoughts, saying that -Ellis had never been proved dishonest, but that his conscience seemed no -bar to questionable actions; that he was unrefined, good-natured when he -had conquered, rough in breaking his way. What his personal charms might -be Pease had never had the chance to determine. Mrs. Harmon seemed to -like him--but one must not judge by that, because--and silence fell for -a moment, as they looked at each other with understanding. - -It seems simple and so commonplace, but this was one of the talks which -_accomplish_, bringing the speakers together as nothing else can do. -Such talks build human ties; Pease and Beth formed one now. By the time -they saw Ellis going away they had new feelings toward each other, -differing in degree and result--for Beth knew friendship well, but to -Pease it was altogether astonishing and momentous. When Ellis was well -away Pease also took his leave and followed down the winding road. - -"Tell Mr. Mather to come," were Beth's last words to him. - -So Pease went again to the mill, where Mather was still in the office. -Pease had little finesse, and went about his errand directly. - -"Miss Jenks," he said, and the stenographer vanished. - -"Anything?" asked Mather. - -Pease put his hand on his shoulder. "Just a message," he answered. "Miss -Elizabeth Blanchard----" - -"Oh, Beth, you mean," said Mather. - -"Yes," replied Pease. "She told me to tell you to come and see them." - -"Indeed?" asked Mather. - -"She was particular about it," Pease urged. "She meant something by it." - -"Thanks," was all Mather said. "Now these enlargements, Mr. Pease. You -meant what you said?" - -"Yes, yes," answered Pease impatiently, and closed his hand on the -other's shoulder. "And I mean this: Take Miss Blanchard's advice. Good -day." He went to the door, and turned. "Ellis was up there this -afternoon." - -On his way home he did little thinking, but he felt. He had touched -people's lives in a new way; he felt the breath of Mather's romance, and -warmed at the trust which Beth reposed in him. Odd quivers ran through -him, strange little impulses toward his kind, calling him to a youth -which his life had earlier denied him. It was not possible for him to -understand their meaning, but they were pleasurable. - -In like manner Mather gave that evening to musings concerning persons -rather than things. To follow his new line of conduct with Judith, or -(now that Ellis had appeared again) to turn once more and earnestly -pursue her--which? Clearly he saw that Judith would go her own way, -would play with fire, would even burn her fingers for all that he could -do. He must wait, be her friend, and having once said his say, must -never again bother her with his warnings. - -And Ellis, that evening, also mused upon the Blanchards, though his -thoughts were very definite. On leaving the house he had borrowed the -newspaper; the Colonel had asked him to post some letters in the city. -When in the train, Ellis turned the newspaper to the stock-market -reports and studied the Colonel's pencillings. Blanchard had underlined -the names of certain stocks usually considered skittish rather than -safe, and had made multiplications in the margin. When Ellis came to -post the letters, very deliberately he read the addresses. Some were -meaningless to him, but one bore the address of a broker whose -reputation was quite as uncertain as the value of the stocks he chiefly -dealt in. Ellis did not cast off thought until he reached his house. - -Then he looked up at the Gothic building and scanned its various -projections. "Ornate?" he murmured. "Well, wait till the inside is -properly beautified!" - -He spoke lightly, but when he entered the house his feeling changed. The -great hall was dim and shadowy; seldom aired, it seemed cold. In front -of him wound the huge staircase; to left and right were dusky apartments -which echoed his steps. Since he first built the place it had satisfied -him, but fresh from the influence of Judith, suddenly he saw the house -as it was. Empty, gloomy, it was but a vast artificial cave, without -life or warmth. For the second time a wistfulness, misunderstood, almost -bewildering, came over him, and he wondered if anybody--somebody!--would -ever brighten the house for him, and make it a home. - - - - -CHAPTER X - -DRAWN BOTH WAYS - - -Those youthful promptings which so stirred Pease, far beyond his own -comprehension, kept working in him through the summer weeks. The joy of -living, which he supposed he had mastered, appeared to him an altered -thing, so that its object no longer reposed on shelves in his study, but -moved serenely in a cottage above the harbour at Chebasset. Pease -accepted the change with the innocence which was particularly his, and -followed his new chase with but slight idea that he was varying from his -usual course. For being a man of social preciseness, he was given to -making calls, and made no distinction between the kind to which he was -habituated, the so-named duty call, and the new visit which was made for -pleasure. Mather wondered, after a few unusual appearances of Pease at -the mill, if the banker was overseeing his work; but as on each occasion -Pease went farther up the hill Mather put the visits down to the right -cause. - -As most people are gifted with that kind of insight which the manager -thus exercised, others as well came to note Pease's actions, and their -cause, before the banker did himself. Miss Cynthia, who spent summer as -well as winter in the city (for since her poor people could not get -away, neither would she), came early to know what seed she had planted -in her cousin's breast. For he was open as the day, and without thought -of concealment told her where he was going or where he had been. Miss -Cynthia set her mouth at each mention of Chebasset, but as they came -oftener she began to consider if she should not have to give up her -chamber, the best in the house, and take the one in the rear. Or perhaps -it might be best to live elsewhere altogether. But looking at her cousin -one day, all his goodness seemed lost in his homeliness and lack of -charm. So she smiled the grim smile of pity, and set about making him -more comfortable at home than ever. - -Mather also had occasion to smile thus, when one day he allowed Beth -Blanchard's word of advice to move him at last. He had seen Ellis more -than once in Chebasset, and felt uneasy; Pease looked in one afternoon -and asked him to go up to the Blanchards'. As usual, Mather refused, but -after an hour he started up the hill, to be passed by Pease coming down. -They were on different ways, for Mather had just left the high road for -a path which would save distance, when looking back he saw Pease going -down the hill. Pease wore a flower which he had not had before; he was -smiling cheerfully, with a retrospective air, and Mather smiled also, -grimly as Miss Cynthia had done, at the thought of the late plant of -love springing in the barren soil of middle-age. - -He went on to the Blanchards' house; Judith was not there. But Beth -welcomed him and sat him down, gave him tea, and talked to him as he sat -half-silent. - -"People do not see much of you nowadays," she said with a tone of -reproach. "You are much too busy, George." - -"Oh, well----!" he shrugged inattentively, and Beth might interpret as -she pleased. She looked at him as he sat, with his chair against the -piazza railing, his arm across it, and his face turned to look out upon -the bay. He was neither gloomy nor resigned, but bore the look of a -strong man waiting. Time was not of account to him. - -"You do not worry much," she said. - -"Not I," he answered, but he turned to her. "Is there anything to worry -about, little Beth?" - -"Sometimes I think so," she replied. "I think that now you'd better stay -to dinner." - -"Thank you," he said, looking at her more carefully. "I suppose you know -best," he added. - -There had never been anything between these two except undefined -good-feeling, expressed only by the inattentive conversation of those -who have often met in the same house with different interests. There had -existed, besides, that consciousness of a difference in age which makes -a few years seem almost a generation, so that with boys and girls "sets" -are separated by a bar of habit which prevents an older from seeing -anything in a younger, even after the passage of years has brought them -both to maturity. Thus, to Mather, Beth had always been a little girl, -until just now her quiet, assured carriage, as she interfered in his -affairs, opened his eyes. For she answered his last remark with -confidence. - -"Yes, I know best." And he believed her. - -"Talk to me," he said, turning still more toward her. "I have seen no -one for a long time. Who is doing? What is doing?" So Beth talked to -him. - -This was her mission in life--to talk people into cheerfulness and bring -them nearer the rest of the world. She enjoyed it always, but it was -especially pleasant to her as she spoke with Mather. For he was real, he -was big, he was not baulked by conditions which might have been too much -for him. Estrangement from Judith was not, she was glad to see, making -him melancholy. He seemed in good physical condition; though he had not -gone much with people of late, she had seen him from her window, early -in the morning, sailing on the bay before he went to his work. It was -not Judith alone, therefore, but work also, that kept him from going -about. All this she felt, or guessed, as she told him of little matters. - -"It is too bad," she said after a while. "You should have a mother, or a -sister, to tell you all this." - -"That Esther Fenno is away yachting, or that John Watson is attentive to -Mary Carr?" He laughed. "But, Beth, you shall be my sister of mercy, and -I will come here oftener." - -"Come, then," she said. "Some day there will be better or more important -items, and you may be glad of the bargain. Or if you happen to call on -Judith when Mr. Ellis does, you may talk with me." - -"Couldn't he do that?" He maintained the appearance of jesting, but she -said seriously: - -"I don't like him." - -Then he put out his hand to her; she took it, and Judith came upon them -thus. - -A pang shot through him as he rose and greeted her; she was quiet in her -manner--his coming could not move her in the least. He wished he might -feel that there had been a flash of inquiry in her first glance at him -and Beth, but her face had not really changed. She welcomed him kindly -enough. "He is going to stay to dinner," said Beth. Judith answered with -a conventional "Good!" Then the Colonel appeared; he had brought the -mail. - -"A letter for you, Judith," he said. "A thick package, rather." - -Thoughtlessly, she opened it. Ellis had promised to send her his -house-plans, and for the purpose had had a set made, much reduced in -size. He had mailed them to her himself; but for carelessness she would -have recognised his hand. The Colonel, always inquisitive, craned his -neck as Judith drew the plans from the envelope. - -"Plans!" he exclaimed. "Are you going into building, Judith?" - -She looked at the upper plan, carelessly as before, though the red came -into her cheek. Then she put them all back into the paper. "No, I'm not -going to build," she said. - -"This reminds me," said the Colonel. "They say Ellis has bought the -Welton place." - -"Indeed!" cried Beth. Her glance sought Mather's; his responded, -cynically humorous. That he should be there when the news was given! But -he turned to the Colonel. - -"That must be very recent, sir." - -"It may not be so," replied he, "but Kingston is hopping for fury, and -Dent for fright, because they'll be his neighbours. Judith, do you -happen to know if the news is true?" - -In spite of herself, she looked at the floor. "Yes, it is true." - -"Aha!" cried the Colonel. "Then those plans----" She looked up now, and -flashed him into silence. - -"I think," said Judith, "that I will go and dress for dinner." She went, -and Beth went also, casting a glance of sympathy at Mather. - -"Will you come in?" asked the Colonel nervously of his guest. - -"I'll stay here, thank you. Don't let me keep you, sir." - -"Thanks. I think I will fix up." - -Mather smiled scornfully at the relief the Colonel showed. Alone, he -leaned against a pillar and looked out over the bay. So this was what -he had come to learn! And being here, he must stay and put the matter -through. - -It was a miserable meal. Judith was furious with her father; Beth was -appalled at the length to which matters appeared to have gone. Mather -and the Colonel struggled manfully, and spoke of matters in the business -world. The Colonel inclined toward the subject of stocks. - -"Consolidated," he suggested. "Don't you think it a good investment?" - -"I am leaving silver alone," responded Mather. "I consider all those -stocks very unsafe just now, sir." - -So with that radical difference of opinion between them, which really -concerned the Colonel more than he would show, conversation languished -even between the gentlemen. Out upon the piazza, after dinner, matters -went more smoothly, but Mather concluded that it was wiser to "eat and -run" than to stay where constraint hung in the air like a fog. So, -pleading the habit of early sleep, he took his leave. - -Then Judith, fearing that he had been suffering, roused herself. "I will -go with you to the gate," she said, as he offered his hand for good-by. -They left the piazza together, but Beth, catching his eye to signal -satisfaction, saw him shake his head. Judith's condescension could no -longer thrill him. Beth felt that his attitude, for one who was so -concerned, was strangely like that of an observer. - -And Judith felt it, too. He had passed through the stage of eager -homage, a favour could no longer enrapture him; she wondered if he had -even noticed the incident of the house-plans--whether, after all, he had -been hurt, so steadily he had borne himself. When they were alone -together, walking toward the gate, he turned to her a gaze almost -quizzical. - -"Have you forgiven me my chimney, Judith?" - -Thus he drew a smile from her; then, for the first time, he spoke of -his mill, but left her no burden of answering. The walk was short, -and he filled it with tales of his men, their weaknesses, their -characteristics, the troubles which some of them had confided to him. -But he said nothing of his difficulties or of his growing success, -though as he talked she thought of them. - -"Does it not please you," she asked, "that people speak well of what you -are doing?" - -"Do they?" was all he answered. "By the way----" - -"And the work of organisation?" she asked him. - -"It was fun," he said, "and not difficult at all." - -"I can't believe you!" she cried. - -"Nothing, nothing!" he answered. - -"And is all smooth sailing now?" - -"One of the men is getting up a strike," he answered. "That is all." - -"A strike!" she exclaimed. - -"So the older men tell me. A little one." - -"How can you take it so easily?" she asked. - -He smiled. "I think I can meet it. Well, here we are at the gate. Thank -you for coming, Judith. Good-by." He started away briskly, then turned -back. She was looking at him seriously. - -"Here is Jim Wayne coming up the road," he said. "He comes to see Beth?" - -"Yes." - -"And what of my employer?" - -"Poor Mr. Pease!" - -"_Mr._ Pease," repeated Mather. "There it all is in a nutshell. Jim is -Jim, twenty-three. Pease is Mr. Pease, forty-five. The young to the -young, as Salvation Yeo said. Poor Pease! Good-night again, Judith." - -And this time he was off for good, not turning again. Judith returned -thoughtfully to the house. He had interested her--turned her back a -little toward her real self, her old self. No small part of the effect -he had made was caused by his cheerful self-command. Did he love her -still? She thought of what he had done for Chebasset. He was very much -of a man. - -On the way down the hill Mather passed Wayne. This was that broker's -clerk who always nodded to Ellis so carelessly, whose mother Ellis had -bought out, and whose name the promoter envied. Handsome, thought Mather -as they greeted; on second thought he added, a bit weak. But Mrs. -Harmon, looking from her garden as they passed on the road below, -thought that Wayne was handsome without qualification. Thus those two, -both of whom were to influence Wayne's fate, thought of him as he went -on to see Beth. Mrs. Harmon followed him with her eyes until he entered -the Blanchards' gate; with her thoughts, still longer. Mather forgot him -in grieving for Pease, the poor dreamer who would wake too late. - -"Beth," asked Judith, returning to the house, "where was it we read -about Salvation Yeo?" - -"In Kingsley's 'Westward Ho,'" answered Beth. After Wayne had come and -gone, she noticed that Judith was reading the book. - -"Do you like it?" asked Beth. - -"Romance--love," said Judith. "It seems unnatural." She laid the book -aside. "A pleasant evening, Beth?" - -"Very," Beth answered. - -"And Mr. Pease?" asked Judith. - -She saw with surprise that Beth's eyes filled with tears. "What can I -do?" asked the younger sister; but expecting no answer, she went away. - -Judith took up her book again, yet held it without opening it. Romance -and love had come to Beth; why not to herself? Judith had had suitors; -and true love might win her yet. Was it to be found? Such lasting love, -she meant, as it was certain Pease would give. No wonder Beth grieved; -any woman's heart would be touched by such devotion. Yet as Judith -thought of her old suitors she could name half a dozen now married, -having forgotten their griefs. But it was Mather who was most in her -mind, who ever since his rejection had been so strangely independent, -and this evening most of all. He had shown no surprise, no dismay, at -the sight of Ellis's house-plans. At the thought Judith started up with -pique, resentment--it would have been hard to define her feeling at the -thought that Mather needed no one to sorrow for him. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -AN INCIDENT AT THE MILL - - -On a morning when Beth took her turn at marketing she met Mather on the -street. "It's four days since you were at the house," she reminded him. - -"Is there really any advantage in my coming often?" he asked her. - -"I don't know," she answered plaintively. "But Judith has very little to -do. You might ask her to visit the mill." - -"Come any time. Both of you," he responded. - -"I'll bring her this morning," she said quickly. - -But when Mather had been another hour at the mill he forgot the -engagement thus made. For in going about he noticed that the quiet in -the place was different from the bustle of ordinary days; the men seemed -expectant. Then as he passed near one of the older workmen the man spoke -to him under his voice. - -"Look out this morning, sir." - -"The strike is coming, Ferguson?" Mather asked, at once alert. - -"Yes, sir." - -Mather returned to his desk in the office. He believed that the strike, -if it came so soon, would be ill-planned. The day was warm; all doors -and windows were open to admit the harbour breeze; as he looked through -the screen-door into the mill he watched one man in particular. Though -the fellow's station was at a window, he seemed hotter than his -neighbours: his face was flushed; he wiped his brow and moved nervously. - -The stenographer rose from her desk and silently laid a slip of paper -before Mather. On it was scrawled in pencil: "Wee will stand by you, -Mister Mather. Old Hands." Mather smiled; he had but twelve out of -seventy workmen who knew what strikes and lockouts meant. Most of the -men he had picked up where he could, training them himself; he had no -idea how far he could trust them. Instead of giving him confidence, the -note suddenly showed how weak his backing was. - -"Where did you get this, Miss Jenks?" he asked. - -"I found it just now, sir, slipped in among my papers." - -"Thank you," he answered, and she went back to her desk, pale and -frightened. - -The workman whom Mather had been watching kept looking at the clock. It -began to strike eleven; at once all eyes were turned on him; all work -was suspended during the slow striking. When this ceased, the workman -left his place and went to the door of the office; all glances followed -him, and the men who were more distant left their stations and crowded -to watch. Conscious of the stir he made, the fellow walked with a -swagger, but a change came in his manner when, through the screen-door, -he saw the quiet manager also eyeing him. He knocked on the door. - -"Come in, Stock," said Mather. - -Now the main entrance to the office was from outside, through a short -passage. At the moment when the workman entered from the mill, Judith -and Beth came into the passage; seeing Mather in apparent conference -with an employee, they waited until he should be finished. He had -wheeled in his chair, and his back was turned to them. "Well, Stock?" he -said. - -The spokesman of the employees was a lean man, somewhat wolfish, with -an eye that moved too much. He seemed a talker rather than a doer, with -something of the actor showing as he stood by the door and folded his -arms. He spoke with an important air; no voice, Judith thought, can be -impressive if it is not clear. - -"I've come to say, sir, that we're dissatisfied." - -"That means," asked Mather, quietly and without rising, "that _you_ are -dissatisfied?" - -The man cleared his throat, but still a characteristic huskiness -remained. "Yes, sir, I am." - -"Very well," was the response, and the manager turned to the -stenographer. "Miss Jenks, make out a bill of this man's time." - -Beth clutched Judith by the sleeve and sought to draw her away. Judith -stood still; not for anything would she have lost the sight of those two -men as they watched each other. - -"You discharge me?" cried the workman with excitement. - -"You discharged yourself," answered Mather steadily. "I can't have a man -here who is dissatisfied." - -"My grievances----" began the other. - -Mather cut him short. "Grievance is a word that doesn't apply. You knew -the conditions of work when you came; I have changed none of them." - -"Then," cried Stock, "let me tell you from the men----" - -"Stop!" ordered Mather; "no one speaks for my men who is not in my -employ." - -"Just the same----" began Stock, anxiety peering from his eyes. Mather -interrupted him again. - -"That will do. How much, Miss Jenks? Thanks." He took the money from his -pocket and handed it to the workman. "That is correct, I think. Good -day, Stock." - -The workman was visibly troubled at the turn of events. "This is most -improper treatment," he complained. As he turned to the door at his back -he ventured a threat. "You shall see!" - -"Not that door," said Mather quickly. "Remember that you are no longer a -workman here. The other way leads out of doors." - -"I must get my hat," the man said, his eye now truly shifty and alarmed. -For a second it met Judith's, and she felt that he glared like a trapped -rat. Nevertheless, under Mather's glance he moved away from the mill -door. - -"I will send for your hat," said Mather. He rose and opened the door -himself. "Jamison, Stock is leaving us. Will you bring his hat?" - -He stood at the open door and waited. Judith looked beyond him into the -mill, where machinery rumbled, and in great vats huge cylinders -revolved. The men stood and stared at each other, or looked at the door -and the manager standing there. Some of the men were shamefaced, some -uneasy, some were smiling--and these were the older hands. The man who -had gone for the hat had reached the door on his return before any sound -rose above the rumble of the machinery. - -Then Judith heard a voice, high-pitched and harsh. It needed a look at -Stock to make sure his husky tones could become so sharp. He was craning -toward the door, sending his voice toward those farthest away. - -"Now is the time," he cried, "to assert your manhood!" - -Mather took out his watch. "Yes," he said, and though he did not raise -his voice Judith noted its splendid carrying power. "Now is your time, -boys. Any one dissatisfied, like Stock here, can go with him. I give you -three minutes." - -One of the older men laughed aloud, and standing above a vat began -raking in it, apparently, with a hooked pole. Others turned to their -work, yet they all kept their attention on those of the younger men who -stood still. Judith felt her hands grow cold, and knew her heart was -beating faster, for half of the men had not moved. Then fingers as cold -as her own took her hand, and Beth pressed up to her side. The older men -stopped work again, the man above the vat stood with pole suspended, and -Stock gave a little dramatic laugh. - -"One minute!" said Mather clearly. - -The men's eyes were on him, Judith's eyes also. He was calm and -perfectly confident; he had no word to say, but he seemed massive as his -own chimney, and as hard to move. His eye roved among the men, then -turned to the office, and for an instant met those of the frightened -stenographer. He gave a smile of confidence, looked at his watch, then -turned again to his men. - -"A minute and a half!" - -His voice seemed to ring out a challenge. Before it the men broke. One -who stood nearest the door, smiling feebly, turned and shuffled toward -his place. He gave the signal to the others. One by one they went to -work, but this time the older men last, until the man by the vat, with a -disdainful sniff, plunged his pole again into the liquid. Then Stock, -reaching for his hat, snatched it and almost ran from the office. In the -passage he fairly crowded Judith and Beth against the wall. Mather, -turning to look after him, saw the sisters. - -At once he closed the solid door into the mill, cutting out the sounds -and bringing quiet. "Come in," he said to Judith. "How long have you -been there?" - -"About three minutes," she answered, entering. She looked him in the -eye; he saw that she was excited, and flushed under the admiration -which showed in her glance. - -"I am sorry you ran into this," he said. "I had not expected it for a -fortnight." - -"I am glad," she returned. "What a peaceful spot this will be for a -while. You will show us over the mill?" - -"Not when this has just happened," he answered. "It would be too much -like showing off the animals I had tamed. Will you excuse me?" - -"I must see the office, then," she said. "Open your safe: pretend I am a -bank inspector, do!" - -He laughed and introduced the sisters to Miss Jenks, laid out his books, -opened the safe, and challenged their criticism. Judith had never been -in an office before: the excitement of what she had just seen still -dominated her. To the stenographer's eyes she was dazzling, enchanting; -even Mather, though he told himself that the interest would pass, was -deeply pleased. He showed the store-room with its stock of sheet metal, -the yard, the wharf, the coal-pockets. Returning to the mill, the three -entered the office again. - -"It is almost twelve," said Beth, looking at the clock. - -A new interest took Judith, and she did not hear. Miss Jenks was at work -at her typewriter; she realised that Judith was watching -her--critically, of course. The magnificent Miss Blanchard must be above -such a thing as typewriting. - -But Judith was interested rather than critical as she watched the clever -fingers at their work. It did not seem hard, and it fascinated her as at -each stroke a long type-arm sprang up, reached over, and struck upon the -paper. Letters grew to words, words to lines--and a faint glow spread -over the stenographer's face as Miss Blanchard moved forward to her -side and looked down at her work. - -"You don't mind, do you?" asked Judith. - -Miss Jenks did mind; she was nervous and almost frightened, but she -stuck to her task. Judith bent lower over the machine, knitting her brow -as she studied its working. The regular movement of the carriage, the -flashing type-arms, the flying fingers, and the result in violet print, -took strong hold of her. - -"There," said Miss Jenks at last, flushing deeply, "the letter is ready -for Mr. Mather's signature." She drew it from the machine and handed it -to Judith. - -"Is it so very hard?" asked Judith, glancing at the letter for but a -moment, then fixing the stenographer with an earnest eye. "Did you have -to study long?" - -"At the typewriting?" asked Miss Jenks. "No, I picked that up quickly. -But shorthand is not easy at all." She took from the desk a note-book -and offered it to Judith. "Those are my notes of what Mr. Mather -dictated." - -The pothooks on the paper meant nothing to Judith, but she saw that they -were very few. "Is this whole letter in these signs?" she asked. -"Indeed! It must be hard to learn." She looked still harder at the -stenographer, who blushed again under the intense scrutiny. Judith was -thinking that if this little, anaemic girl could learn shorthand, surely -she could do so herself. - -"But Judith," said Beth, interposing, "you are keeping her from her -work." - -"The letters are all finished," murmured Miss Jenks, glad to turn her -embarrassed eyes elsewhere. - -Judith moved to the typewriter and looked down at it. Until this morning -she had never seen one except in an advertisement; its shiny -complications grew more attractive. She said nothing, but Beth smiled -at Mather mischievously. - -"Try it," she suggested to Judith. - -"Oh, if you will!" exclaimed Miss Jenks. She slipped a sheet of paper -into place and placed the chair for Judith. "Will you not?" she invited. -Judith took the seat. - -"You can begin," suggested Miss Jenks, "by striking the letters one by -one. You press this key----" - -"For capitals; yes, I saw," Judith replied. "No, I will try to write -without practising. To whom, Beth?" - -"Tell Mr. Pease," Beth suggested, "that you approve of his manager." - -So Judith wrote, dating, addressing, and beginning to explain that she -liked the mill. It--she bit her lip--was not quite so easy as it might -be, nor--as she finished a line without mistake, and released her lip -again--so very hard after all. She became interested, forgot the others, -and talked to herself. - -"R--where's R? Oh, thanks. That was not hard enough; it scarcely -printed. Now Y--here! Now the end of the line; how easily this runs. -Beth, how do you spell----?" - -Then they laughed at her, and she rose. "Judith, it's almost twelve," -said Beth again. "Let's get away before the workmen do." - -"George," Judith said to Mather, "let me look into the mill once more." - -He opened the door again. The cylinders were still turning; the men were -busy--they even looked cheerful. And but for Mather's firm hand the mill -might at this moment be empty and idle! She gave him a glance of frank -approval as she turned to say good-bye. On the way home she was so -silent that Beth wondered if she were moved by what she had seen. - -In fact, Judith was deeply moved. Never before had she seen such a sight -as that in the office, and the qualities displayed by Mather had -impressed her. Thus to stand up against a danger, thus to handle men--it -seemed to Judith as if he had done something almost great. His coolness -and success were heroic; for the rest of the day he occupied her mind; -she sat on the piazza, even at the table, with thoughts visibly -abstracted, and Beth at last became so impressed that she sought the -telephone when Judith was out of hearing, meaning to give Mather a piece -of advice. But he was no longer at the office; Miss Jenks said he had -gone to the city. - -"I am very sorry," said Beth. - -"So am I," sympathised Miss Jenks. - -"I wanted to ask him to come up here this evening," said Beth. "You are -sure I cannot get him at his hotel?" - -"Very sure," replied Miss Jenks. So Beth, much disappointed, left the -telephone. - -Miss Jenks could have told Beth more. When the sisters had gone from the -mill, the stenographer found in the typewriter a sheet which she took -out and laid silently before her employer. He looked at it for a while, -then--tore it up. He had passed beyond the stage of treasuring reminders -of his lady. Only the day before he had found and destroyed a little -hoard of mementos which seemed to reproach him with his lack of success. -Judith, he told himself with that grimness which was a feature of his -self-control, did not exactly inspire poetic dreaming. So he destroyed -the letter, but when his day's work was over he turned reluctantly from -going to see her. - -Miss Jenks saw his hesitation as, after putting on his hat, he stood at -the door and visibly asked himself: "Which way?" To the right led up -the hill and to Judith; to the left would bring him to his cottage; -straight ahead stood a trolley-car ready to start back to the city. The -little stenographer would have been wise enough to send him where, at -that moment, Judith was thinking of him. But like a man he blundered. - -"Hang it!" he thought, "she doesn't want to see me all the time." He -counted up that he had seen her twice in one week; Sunday was the -earliest that he could go again. Also he remembered Ellis's house-plans. -So Miss Jenks, with a sense of disappointment which was both personal -and unselfish, saw him board the car. - -At her house Beth scratched a note to Mather; it contained only the -words: "Follow it up!" She would send it in the morning. But after -dinner Judith received a telephone message from Mrs. Harmon, asking her -if she would not come over for the evening. Judith consented; it would -be neighbourly to go. - -"Will you come?" she asked of Beth. - -"Is the Judge there?" Beth inquired. - -"He is in the city." - -"Then I think I'll stay at home," decided Beth. She forecasted events -exactly. Judith went, stayed most of the evening, and was escorted home -by--Ellis. "He came down," Judith vouchsafed, "after I arrived there." - -Since morning Judith had been softer, gentler than usual; but now she -was lofty again, with her old manner underlaid by excitement. Beth went -sadly to her room and tore up her note to Mather. - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -FORWARDS VARIOUS AFFAIRS - - -As time passed on, Colonel Blanchard watched with interest, mixed with -solicitude, the love-matters of his daughters. Judith's affairs were -going to his satisfaction, for though Mather came occasionally to the -house, Ellis came oftener. Ellis's land had been bought, his house was -going up, and at times he came to discuss his plans with Judith. So far -so good, but in another quarter the Colonel was not quite so well -pleased, since the visits of Jim Wayne to Beth were becoming very -frequent. - -Beth was twenty, Jim was twenty-one. He found the way to Chebasset easy -to follow, even though he left his mother at home alone--for the Wayne -estate was low in the world, and summer-resorts were not for the widow. -She, desolate soul, counted her dollars carefully, and encouraged her -son's belief that by selling the house and land to Ellis she had made -herself comfortable for life. "It was only for that," he explained to -Beth, "I allowed her to sell. And now she doesn't need my earnings, so I -use them for myself. She likes me to dress well; she says I'm so like my -father that she can't bear to have me look shabby. And it's a mark of a -gentleman, don't you think, Beth, to look well?" - -It was so sweet of Jim to admire his father, that Beth could not bear to -say how the elder Wayne was popularly regarded. - -"Why," snorted Mr. Fenno, "what he spent on clothes, cigars, and wines, -would have provided enough insurance to keep his family handsomely." - -Fenno, when on the subject, had intended to make it clear to Beth that -Jim was too much like his father. Innuendo, however, had failed with -Beth--not that she was unable to perceive that Jim had his weaknesses, -but she had the habit of championing her favourites against her own -judgment. Thus she was sorry for the Judge who had chosen his wife -unwisely and could not make her love him, and pitied old Fenno himself, -who realised the hollowness of the world only after he had drummed on it -for a good many years. She was fond of such men because they were weak, -weak though they knew it not themselves, though the world called them -strong. And so it was not unnatural that Beth should take into her -innermost heart something still weaker to cherish, because she was so -strong herself; something with faults, she had so few herself; something -which would get into trouble, for she was so used to getting people out. -She did not realise that the young fall far deeper into trouble than the -old, and that she could not give backbone to a man who had none. - -All this is but saying that Beth, wise in the affairs of others, with -her own was not so gifted, and was so mistaken as to take Wayne at very -nearly his own valuation. For Jim had a dashing air, and dressing in the -fashion was the mark of many a girlish eye. He went smooth-shaven; his -face had a slightly petulant expression, as if complaining of the world, -yet at times he lighted with the fire of optimism, when he told Beth of -the things he meant to do. And thus he approached her on two undefended -sides, for never had she turned a deaf ear to a call for sympathy, and -nothing in a man did she admire so much as aspiration. - -Thus their affinity declared itself to them, for Jim liked to be purred -over and strengthened. He enjoyed telling, to an attentive ear, the -misfortunes of his family. "That we should have to sell our house to -that fellow Ellis!" he said to Beth. "It seems too hard, doesn't it? And -to think that in a few years I shall be earning enough to support the -old house, if I had it still! But when a fellow's just starting, you've -no idea how little they pay. The business world! Ah, Beth, you're lucky -to be a girl, so that you don't have to rub up against life!" - -He spoke as if life in its hardest form were to be met with only on -exchange, and shook his handsome head so convincingly that Beth believed -him. She enjoyed believing him; it gave her pleasure to think Jim a man -of the world. In fact, he carried himself very well, with none of those -mannerisms which so often betray inexperience. Little allusions to -dissipation are very common, but Jim was not given to these, and in -consequence seemed more manly than those of his set whom she met. Of -course Jim took wine when her father offered it; believing in her father -as she did, she thought it no sign of dissipation when he or others -drank at his table. It was a pleasure to Beth that Jim and the Colonel -were congenial, with more than one topic in common. For example, Wayne -had a nice taste in wines, fostered by his lamented parent, and could -discuss with Blanchard the merits of his '68 and '72. Jim liked the -Colonel's tobacco, also, and never failed to commend it. But most of all -the two enjoyed speaking of the stock-market and all which to it -pertained. The Colonel always asked Jim for the "news of the street," -which the two discussed with as much seriousness as if Jim were not -young and the Colonel flighty. To these talks Judith and Beth always -listened silently--Judith because she knew there would be no use to say -anything, Beth because she did not suppose that anything was to be said. - -Thus when the Colonel led the talk to Consolidated one evening, Judith -remembered, but Beth forgot, that Mather had advised against all silver -stocks until they should become settled. To Beth stocks were mere names, -unembodied nothings without power either to wreck lives or to make -people happy. - -"Great possibilities," said Jim, wagging his head. - -"Must go up soon, I think," commented her father, with deliberation. - -"Sure!" Jim assented heartily. - -Such incomplete sentences and bits of slang meant wisdom to Beth, and -when Judith rose from the table, the younger sister still remained -sitting to hear what further Delphic utterances might be made. - -"Always said Argent would slump," stated the Colonel. - -"I got out of that some time ago," declared Jim. - -"Wise!" Blanchard said approvingly, not knowing that Jim's single share -had been sold under pressure of necessity, when his mother, in one of -the few decisive moments of her life, declared that Jim himself must buy -the new carpet for his room, since she thought the old one still good -enough for a couple of years' wear. Jim had at first meant to have a -good carpet, then he decided on a rug, and a large part of his Argent -went into something Turkish, while a little of what was left was devoted -to adorning his person. One small share of Consolidated remained as an -investment, and Jim was now looking for that to rise again to the point -at which he had bought it. - -Jim was an optimist with the instinct of self-approval, and being "in" -Consolidated he had picked up the expressions which had fallen in his -hearing, justifying him in his wisdom in buying and his hopefulness in -waiting. He told the Colonel what Baxter said, and what Winster said, -and especially what Bullfinch had declared in regard to the stock. Now, -Bullfinch was that broker with whom the Colonel had his dealings. - -"He said 'Hang on'?" asked Blanchard with pleasure. - -"Yes," said Jim. "And I heard him giving Baxter a tip, sir, which I will -pass on to you, if you're interested. He said: 'Watch Poulton Mining and -Milling.'" - -"Indeed?" murmured the Colonel. - -"Now, you wouldn't think that, would you, sir?" asked Jim. "It's down, -way down; why, it's been down for a couple of years! I had forgotten -about it, almost. But now I'm watching it myself. It has moved a little -lately, up a point and down again. Looks as if some one were interesting -himself in it, don't you think?" - -"May be," assented the Colonel judicially. - -"If Consolidated rises, I'm thinking of taking my money out and putting -it into Poulton. What should you say to that, Colonel?" - -"Where is Poulton now?" asked Blanchard. - -"Twelve and a half," answered Jim. - -"Well," explained the Colonel, "the way I have always looked at these -things is this. If your money is in a low-priced stock, and it rises a -dozen points, then perhaps you double. But if your money is in something -high-priced, then on the rise you only make twelve per cent." - -"If only," said Jim, "one could be sure which stock will rise!" - -"You can make sure by watching," asserted the Colonel. - -Once Ellis came in as one of these conversations was in progress; he -stood listening while the two amateurs finished their duologue. - -"Don't you think so?" they had appealed to him at the end. - -"Ah, well," replied the master of finance, "you seem to have got hold of -something there." Then he went out on the piazza with Judith, leaving -the enthusiasts still more cheerful. - -"Your father doesn't act on those ideas of his?" he asked of Judith. - -"I hope not--I think not," she answered. "He just likes to talk with -Jim." - -"Dabbler!" was Ellis's characterization of the young man. Meanwhile the -dabblers still babbled within the house, in high good humour with -themselves. - -It will be noticed that the summer had brought progress to Ellis, in -fact almost intimacy with Judith. Their closer acquaintance, begun over -his house-plans, had been materially forwarded by Mrs. Harmon, when she -invited Judith to her house on the evening of Mather's strike. - -Previously, she had been very curious to know how he had got on with -Judith. That the girl had supplanted her as chief adviser she became -aware, and was in the beginning a little piqued thereat. When she first -saw a sketch of the new house, her face fell. - -"Oh, _that_ kind of a house!" she exclaimed. "Why, that's all very well -for a man with an income like my husband's, but for you it seems too -simple." - -"I like it," he replied without explanation. - -"But no carvings," she persisted. "No turrets, or anything of that -sort." - -"No, no," he said; "this is the only thing." - -"But really, change it!" she urged. "Why, it doesn't represent you. It -might be anybody's house!" - -"The object isn't to attract attention," Ellis replied. "Quiet and -dignity are more genteel." He quoted Judith so exactly (all but for the -one word) that Mrs. Harmon perceived it. - -"Oh," she exclaimed with some chagrin. "I see, it's Judith makes you do -this. Of course, if you want to!" - -"Now," he said with a rough tolerance, "think it over. She's right, -you'll find. A city house down here won't fit. The girl has lived -abroad, remember; she ought to know." - -Mrs. Harmon had reflected and acquiesced. Common sense was fundamental -to both her and Ellis, and combined with more frankness than was usual -in the Judge's circle kept them on good terms. Ellis had laid his hand -on her shoulder while he urged her to consider; she had not resented the -sign of their understanding. - -"Well," she said, "Judith knows a good deal, and perhaps I am wrong." -Right or wrong, she did not intend that she and Ellis should fall out. -Life was dull for her sometimes; she liked to have him dropping in. And -then those trinkets. She turned the bracelet on her wrist. - -"This is very attractive," she said. - -He grunted indifferently. - -"It's odd," she said further, "and bracelets aren't worn very much. It -attracts attention." - -"That's what Price expected," he responded. She never thanked him for -his gifts more than by such commendations; he did not expect more. - -But she was on each occasion interested to know how he got on with -Judith. He knew she kept account of his visits there. "Go oftener," she -urged him once. He was wiser, and refused. "You don't follow it up very -quickly," she repeatedly said, but "all in good time" was the most she -could get out of him. - -"What do you talk about with her?" she asked. - -"The doings in the city," he answered. "The big things going on -anywhere." - -"Does that get you very far with her?" she asked in surprise. - -"As far as I can get," he replied. - -She thought to advise him. "You don't understand girls, Stephen. The -talk you give her isn't what she wants. A girl of her age -needs--flattery, you know, and nice little things said." - -"You'd make me into a Jim Wayne," he retorted. "A monkey in a Panama, -saying foolish things." Mrs. Harmon drew herself up, but he did not -perceive. "Pretty fool I'd be, saying the things he does. I heard a talk -of his and Beth's, and this is the sort of thing he said--." But Ellis -misrepresented Jim entirely, having looked at him from a strictly -personal point of view. The conversation, harmless as it was, is best -taken at first hand. - -"How swell you look to-night!" Jim had begun. "Gad, that rose in your -hair--trust a girl to know what's nifty!" - -"Don't be silly," Beth replied. - -"Straight!" Jim protested. "Never saw you look so stunning. This -moonlight brings it all out, you know. Poetic, Beth, on my word! I say, -let's go down on the beach, and you can recite me that thing of -Tennyson's." - -"Shelley's," Beth corrected him. - -"Just as good," said Jim cheerfully. "Come on, do!" - -Such is the literal report of a conversation which Beth thought highly -delightful, but which Ellis delivered with some distortion of manner and -word, calculated to throw discredit on Wayne's attractions. "Flat and -silly," he characterised it. "Now if you suppose that a man of my age -can say that sort of thing to a girl like Judith Blanchard, you're -wrong, Lyddy--Lydia, I mean." - -She seized her chance to show a little of her true feeling; long ago she -had asked him not to use the old nickname. She answered coldly: "Of -course, you know your affairs best. And equally of course, you can't do -things which Mr. Wayne can." - -"Don't be hard on me," he said. "Wayne's all right in his way, but I'm -no boy, nor is Judith like her sister. If Wayne's a friend of yours, I'm -sorry." For he divined that something more than his use of her name had -caused her coldness. - -"I scarcely know him," she responded. "But let me tell you that a woman -had sometimes rather a man would make a fool of himself by calling her -handsome, than be too wise in his talk." - -Ellis had no answer ready, and the subject dropped, but before he left -he made an attempt at conciliation. "You see, really sometimes I don't -understand myself, even, or the girl. I'll try to remember what you say. -Keep me in her mind, you know, Lydia." - -It was a truth that he spoke: he did not understand the girl, nor -himself. He still prized her fire and dreaded her theories, with each -meeting he admired her more than ever, but he was finding in her a -baffling reserve which taught him that he must go slow. He could not win -her out of hand; some spring of action in her there was yet to find, -some ideal which he must satisfy. Might it not be too high!--and there -lay the new uncertainty in himself, that he was not sure of conquering -her, while conquer her he must! For she was growing indispensable to -him, all thought of her as a commodity had fled, and he was now familiar -with that longing for her while still he found no name for it. The -emotions which he understood were his own ambition and others' greed, he -had no knowledge of the finer desires which can be roused in man. So, -somewhat puzzled, he laboured to please Judith by the only means he -knew, with far more success than might have been expected. - -Then came that evening when Mrs. Harmon invited Judith to her house, -where Ellis had arrived at almost the same time. It irritated the girl -at first to be so evidently brought in his way, and with Mather's -achievement in her mind she was for some time cool and quiet, until Mrs. -Harmon, with great self-control, took herself out of the room. Then -Ellis brought the conversation at once to familiar ground. He told -Judith that he had for some time been working to bring about a -combination of the cotton manufacturers. "We can control the whole -section, and can do much toward setting prices, if this can only be -managed." - -"You mean to make it a trust?" asked Judith, interested. - -"Yes," he said. "But some of the operators are shy, the contracts and -the sharing are so intricate. They--I--they don't know what I'm really -at." - -Judith failed to understand that his reputation stood in the way of -complete confidence. "Can't they see that the combination will benefit -them?" - -"Yes," he answered, "but the scheme scares them. It's big." - -"I have heard of a lawyer," she said, "a New Yorker, who gives his whole -time to nothing but framing agreements for trusts, and meeting the -corporation laws. If you could call him in, couldn't he perhaps make it -clear to the others? The advantages, I mean, and the safety?" - -"Where did you hear of him?" asked Ellis. - -"I read of him," she answered, "in a magazine." - -"I never read magazines," he said thoughtfully. "It mightn't be a bad -idea. By Gad," he went on, warming, "I think it might be just the thing. -A stranger to us all, he'd be able to give confidence, I do believe. And -there's so much in it!" He turned to Judith with energy. "Could you find -me that magazine?" - -"Yes," she answered, all her coldness gone in the rush of interest, as -she saw herself influencing affairs. "It is at home." - -"Let me walk back with you, then, when you go." - -Mrs. Harmon entered, having heard the last part of their talk, having -listened, in fact. "Is that the sort of thing she really cares about?" -she asked herself in surprise. - -It was, indeed, the sort of thing which attracted Judith; no wonder that -there was a new light in her eyes when she came home with Ellis. No -wonder that Beth tore up her letter to Mather. Judith had gained an -interest in the future which put quite out of her mind the memory of the -trifling strike at the mill. Ellis promised to tell her if he used her -idea; she was eager to know if it bore results. He let her know, before -long, that he was working on it; he would tell her if anything happened. -Judith scanned daily the reports of industrial affairs, to see if the -combination took shape. - -Thus that invitation of Mrs. Harmon's was of great value to Ellis, but -when the other tried to draw nearer to the girl it proved a different -undertaking. Mrs. Harmon was lonely; she wanted companionship; it -irritated her that Judith and Beth had cavaliers, while she had none. -One day she asked Judith out to drive, and for a while the two sat in -the victoria glum and stupid. They were too widely different in their -natures ever to be intimate. - -But Mrs. Harmon made the attempt. "Mr. Ellis," she said, choosing the -most promising topic, "is a most interesting man, Judith--you will let -me call you Judith, won't you?" - -"Certainly," was the answer. - -"Thank you. And don't forget that my name is Lydia; Mr. Ellis calls me -by it at times. Doesn't he fascinate you with what he does?" - -That was something which Judith was not prepared to admit. "He is -certainly very active in many matters," she replied, wary of what she -said, for fear of her companion's tongue. - -"He controls so much; he plans and carries out such great things!" went -on Mrs. Harmon. "Ah, he is a keen man, my dear. Don't you think so?" - -Judith thought so. - -"He has a great future before him," prophesied Mrs. Harmon, but she -perceived that she roused no answering spasm in Judith's breast. -Therefore Mrs. Harmon's artificial palpitation presently subsided, with -some suddenness, and she had the feeling that perhaps the young lady was -overmuch for her. Before the end of the drive Mrs. Harmon found herself -obliged to say, in self-defence: - -"Driving makes one so contemplative, don't you think? Sometimes I could -drive for hours, just so, perfectly content but saying nothing." - -Judith confessed to the same sensation. When Mrs. Harmon was alone, she -concluded that the experiment had been fully tried. Later, Judith asked -her over to tea, but the situation was so much relieved when other -people dropped in that Mrs. Harmon lost hope of a real friendship in -that quarter. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -WHICH IS IN SOME RESPECTS UNSATISFACTORY - - -Jim Wayne had been going so frequently to Chebasset that people were -beginning to talk of it. All foresaw the consummation of his courtship, -and some gloomy shakes of the head were given to the subject. - -Beth, the older people said, was just such another as Jim's mother: a -soft woman, without the power either to restrain a man or to improve -him. Such unhappiness as the widow Wayne's was, therefore, reserved to -Beth--while Jim should be alive. As Jim was weaker in character than his -father, and therefore less dissipated, he promised to live longer. Poor -Beth! - -Not for these reasons, however, was it that Colonel Blanchard took -serious counsel concerning the possibility of interference. For when the -inclination of the two young people was unmistakable Blanchard began to -consider the side on which it affected him, regretting the hope which -seemed about to vanish, that Beth should marry Pease. If only something -might be done! The Colonel sought Judith as the person who alone could -advise him, though until he opened the subject he had forgotten how -seldom they agreed in their views. The Colonel was often conscious that -his calibre was different from that of his daughter. - -"Judith," he said, "you've been noticing what is going on between Beth -and young Wayne? You think there's something in it?" - -"If there isn't," she replied, "there will be very soon." - -The Colonel took a few fretful paces up and down the room. Then he -stopped before her. "What do you think of it?" he demanded. - -For a moment Judith considered her answer; it is unpleasant to say -things which may be remembered later when one has a brother-in-law. -Nevertheless, as usual she spoke the truth. "I wish Beth wouldn't." - -"When Pease is ready, too!" complained the Colonel. "Do you suppose he -seems too old to her?" - -"Beth likes older people," returned Judith. "And she'd be so safe with -him." - -"Yes," returned the Colonel, accepting all suggestions eagerly. "Yes, of -course. Now, isn't there something we can do?" - -"For instance?" challenged Judith; seeing that the Colonel had nothing -to offer, she went on, "I never knew how to interfere in anything of -that sort. Of course, you, as her father----" - -"Do you think I could?" asked the Colonel hopefully. - -"It's not often done," Judith replied. - -The Colonel considered the possibility and shrank from it. Never had he -denied anything either to himself or to his daughters; the most he had -ever ventured toward his offspring was a petulant remonstrance. This -tone, as he saw himself helpless, he took now toward Judith in default -of Beth. "It seems hard," he complained. "I've brought her up--you don't -know how much thought I've given you two girls. And now she turns back -on me!" - -"Why father," asked Judith in surprise, "how can it affect you so?" - -The Colonel's thoughts rapidly skirted the pit which he had opened for -himself. It is a long way from the hope of a rich son-in-law to the -consideration of a daughter's happiness, but the Colonel presently -covered it. "Her comfort," he demanded. "Have I nothing at stake -there?" - -But this was obviously so artificial that he felt Judith could not fail -to perceive it. She sat silent, and the Colonel, after changing the -subject, presently got himself out of the house. Perhaps he was to be -pitied, if to be good-natured, weak, indulgent, deserves a better reward -than a vigorous daughter's too-keen comprehension. Besides, the gentle -one was turning against him. He nursed his grievance against Beth for a -while, then at last found comfort in Judith after all. She at any rate -would marry money. If she would only be quick about it! - -And the Colonel, free from observation, sat down in the shrubbery to -study the newspaper which he had brought with him, in the hope of -drawing from its columns of figures information which should tell him -where to lay his bet. He was gambling from week to week, quite as if he -were laying on the red or black, although the means of his ventures were -Consolidated, and (following the hint Jim Wayne had given) Poulton -Mining and Milling, besides (a little discovery he had made for himself) -Tilly Valley Oil. They were all up a point or two, but the Colonel was -not entirely relieved as he studied the figures, because more than a few -points were needed in order to make up for the slump of last week. - -A man puzzles long at these things, sometimes; the Colonel's time was on -him now, making him very peevish. It was hard, hard indeed, that both -the market and Beth should go against him. - -As regards Beth, the signs of her feeling were unmistakable. The eye of -blissful brooding which she now always showed, the loving consideration -with which she fulfilled all duties, bespoke the thoughts which -mastered her. She and Jim had been drawing nearer through the weeks, a -graded progress of lingering, slow-mounting ecstasy. And on one night, -one starlight night, Beth and her lover came to a complete -understanding. - -Jim begged her to go with him to the beach. He was trembling a little -himself, being genuinely inspired with a feeling above his own capacity -to retain long; she felt the tremor in his voice as he asked the favour. -"Let's get away from here," he said. "I want to speak with you." - -So they went down to the beach, silent, so absorbed by what was coming -that the touch of each other as they jostled in the darkness was enough -to make them start. Jim had chosen where the proposal should be made, a -nook beneath a bank where they had often sat by moonlight; but this was -starlight, and no one was to see. - -They sat beneath the bank; the dry sand made a soft seat, the breath of -the salt-water quickened their spirits, the lapping of little waves -spoke to them with a murmur of far away things. Their two hearts beat -like four; Beth felt that she was breathless, Jim knew that he was -wordless, and a long pause followed their arrival. At last Jim found -that he could speak. - -"How quiet it is!" - -"And how lovely!" - -He felt that this was mere temporising. "We've sat here a good many -times," he began again. "Haven't we, Beth?" - -"Yes," she murmured, feeling that it was coming. - -"I--it's been great fun to see so much of you," he went on, "but it's -got to come to an end before long." - -"Really?" asked Beth weakly, all natural power of response completely -lost. - -"It's too much to stand, you know," asserted Jim. "I've--you've made me -greedy, Beth. Either I want it all, or none at all." - -She answered nothing, though he listened. Ah, it was a mistake to -propose in the dark, for he lost the sight of her sweet face. - -"Either to come, I mean," he went on again, "whenever I want, or never -again, Beth." - -"Jim!" she murmured. - -"Shall I go away?" he asked. "Or shall we just go on meeting--every -day--forever--till death do us part?" he concluded, satisfied that he -had expressed the immutability of his sentiments. Getting no answer, he -reached for Beth's hands in the darkness, and found the little -fluttering things just coming toward him. Then he enfolded her and drew -her to him, and what was said after that was too broken to be set down -in type. - -Thus was accomplished, and very creditably to Jim, the understanding -which had been long in coming, and Beth whispered to him the wonderful -words, "I love you!" Her little cup was more than full; her happiness -overflowed her heart and found a somewhat larger receptacle waiting for -it, namely her mind, in which it seemed somewhat thin. Even as she -yielded herself to Wayne's embrace Beth's two natures declared -themselves not in accord, now when the test was applied. Kisses were -strangely fleshly things; Beth shrank beneath Jim's eagerness; poetry -vanished before the fierceness of his embrace. This was not a communion -of spirit with spirit; Jim did not speak with fervour of his relief from -his trials and his fears. The tremolo of praise which her heart was -prepared to utter found no response in his; the deeper thoughts were -hers alone. She had thought admission to the treasures of Jim's mind -would mean so much, and now his exultation oppressed her, while she -winced beneath his physical delight. - -Thus Beth, who had thought to sit hand in hand in deep communion, -discovered that there was in Jim as man what was lacking in her as -woman, and before long she led him home. Jim went with reluctance; it -was too sweet to hold and kiss her; she was a morsel far finer than had -yet come to him, and he failed to understand her purity, as the farmer's -boy cannot comprehend the rebellion of a peach at being eaten. - -Nor did Jim quite fall in with Beth's ideas, which she detailed to him -as she neared the house. Tell her father and sister, of course, and -after that, why not tell everybody else? Beth wished for a month or two -of Jim to herself, and to rush into the world flaunting her happiness as -if it were an achievement was not in her nature, so she begged of Jim -this respite. - -"It won't be news to any one by that time," he grumbled. - -"But to oblige me, Jim? And really, never again can we have ourselves -quite to ourselves." In their walk up the hill Beth had found time to -tell herself that she was wrong to be so timid in Jim's embrace; that -perhaps it was natural, but that every other girl felt so at first, and -the feeling would pass. Thus she meant what she said about having him to -herself; and Jim, turning and catching her, declared that there never -was a sweeter little thing, that he must have a kiss, and that he would -agree. - -The Colonel and Judith had been sitting quite stolidly, back to back -beside the lamp. But while the Colonel was oblivious to what was going -on, Judith had been keenly alive to it. She had recognised the tremor in -Jim's voice as he begged for the interview; how many such requests had -been made of her! Yet having always gone to a proposal as a surgeon to -an operation, to remove painfully yet kindly the cause of a disease, -Judith knew how different her sensations had been from those of Beth, as -she went, shrinking, to meet her happiness. During the half-hour that -they were away, Judith imagined the bliss of those other two, and knew -that however simple it was, it was enviable. Then when Beth returned, -Judith started for very joy at the sight of her radiant face. - -Very prettily Beth went and kissed her father, and stammered that there -was something to tell him, for she and Jim now understood each other. It -seemed to Beth natural that Judith should speak slowly, apparently -choosing her words--but that the Colonel should wait until Judith had -finished speaking, and then should burst out with more than Beth had -expected him to say, as if to cover up less than she had expected him to -feel, struck cold to Beth's warm little heart, and oppressed much of the -remainder of the evening. She had scarcely recovered from it when -train-time came, and with it Jim's good-by, almost violent--and the -evening was over. - -Poor little Beth, kneeling at your bedside, praying for one who, instead -of hastening home to tell his mother, stays at the club till after -midnight--poor little Beth, a white figure in the pale light of the -late-rising moon, go to bed and dream the dreams of yesterday. It would -be happier so. - -But sleep avoided her. So many thoughts passed through her mind, of the -reality which had come to her--a reality like others, hard in -places--that Beth lay wakeful. She heard the clock strike eleven, heard -her father and Judith come upstairs and say good-night, heard the two go -to their rooms. They had said so little to her, so little, and she was -so lonesome! But in a few minutes a door opened, footsteps approached, -and Judith stood by her sister's side. Beth stretched up her arms and -drew her down. - -"Talk to me," Judith murmured. "Tell me about it, about him." - -Ah, this was sisterly and sweet! Beth had sometimes thought her sister -cold; never would she do so again. She told her happy thoughts, not -those vague suggestions of a difficult future or imperfect -understanding. Her Jim was such a man! Her own words gave her -confidence; clasped in Judith's arms, Beth poured out her hopes; more -yet, she spoke of her fears in order to smile them away. She would face -hardships, would bear what griefs the world might send, secure in her -great love. And Judith, listening, murmured her agreement, her sympathy, -her joy. - -Then when Judith said good-night, she was held still closer for a -moment. "I wish you the same good fortune, dear!" Beth kissed her, and -released her. - -Beth slept at last; it was Judith who was wakeful. The same good -fortune? - -Judith mused upon love. It was love which so blinded Beth's eyes and -brought this ineffable happiness. Poor Beth! Yet Judith did not even -smile with pity, for her nature told her that this love of Beth's, -should it but last, would be more of a help, a guide and strength, than -all of Judith's own knowledge. And repeating Beth's words, "the same -good fortune," Judith wished for that happiness to come to her. To love -a man, to believe in him, give herself to him: that would solve the -problem of a future which often seemed too cold. - -She recognised perfectly the drift of her feelings toward Ellis. Yet her -enthusiasm for him was an impulse of the head rather than the heart; it -was not a passion, but a state of mind. How much finer was Beth's -perfect self-forgetfulness! And fearing that Ellis could never rouse her -to a greater height than this intellectual approval, Judith's thoughts -turned regretfully toward Mather. In all the years of their -acquaintance, why had he never _made_ her love him? Well, that was past! -But Judith, softened by this contact with Beth's happiness, and -perceiving that the fascination of Ellis's personality was slowly -growing on her, looked with regret upon the prospect of a merely -rational union. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -MR. PEASE INTRUDES UPON A SECRET - - -The summer passed; through October the city gathered its own to itself -again. The stay-at-homes, such as Miss Cynthia and Mrs. Wayne, saw with -relief shutters go down and blinds open, saw awnings spread over -southern windows and children playing on lawns. Poor Mrs. Wayne, -threatened with the loss of her treasure, could call less formally upon -her daughter-in-law-to-be, yet could not quite reconcile herself with -matters as they stood. But that is the way of mothers. Jim began to urge -that the engagement be announced, but Beth put him off for another -little while. - -And now Pease found comfort in the thought of Beth's return, since it -would give him his innocent pleasure without journeys or the neglect of -business. His winter clothes were chosen with unusual care, nor did he -this time repel the tailor's semi-annual attempt to give him a more -youthful appearance. At his home Pease became a new man, and Miss -Cynthia sneered as she fastened the charge upon him. - -"More colour in your neckties!" she sniffed disdainfully. - -He smiled, untroubled. "Yes; they tell me it's to be quite proper, this -fall." - -Astonishment prevented her from speaking; never before had he deserted -the middle ground of fashion. Thus the lighter shade of his new overcoat -was a sign, his wearing of tan shoes a portent. And his very carriage -was different, as of a man who has at last found the spring of youth and -drinks of it daily. His mannerisms were softening, he took more interest -in social news, and an undercurrent of thought always swayed his mind in -the direction where knowledge or imagination placed Beth Blanchard. - -There was stupidity in Pease, for he did not find the meaning of the -existence of Jim Wayne. But very slowly he discovered the reason for his -own sensations. He met Beth first in April; by the middle of the summer -he knew that she attracted him extremely; a month later he acknowledged -that he was going to Chebasset for the sake of seeing her; upon her -return to Stirling he felt continual odd thoracic sensations which -seemed to make him a living compass, pointing always to Beth. After a -fortnight of this sort of thing he waked one day from a reverie of her, -to realise that he loved her. The discovery affected him with vertigo; -he had to seek the air and think the matter over. In about a week he -became familiar with the situation and accepted it. He paused one -evening before his motto from Goethe, and smiled to think that he had -once considered the end of happiness to be mere culture. - -Loving Beth, he did not at first include her in his hopes. There was -such delight in contemplating a definite image in absence, such -satisfaction in watching Beth herself when present, that for some time -he went no further. He made it clear to Beth that he was always willing -to attempt anything she desired, and then from time to time looked in on -her and adored. Yet the humanising process eventually proceeded. Gazing -at his idol until its every perfection was known to him, at last there -came the question: Why not possess it? And this worked on him so that in -the end he became extremely determined. - -So gentle was the increase of his attentions that Beth did not at first -take the alarm. At home, no abstraction betrayed him to Miss Cynthia, -who thought that he had resigned himself. He was more lively, normal -than ever before, and only Mather suspected in him the determination to -do or die. The change of the scene of operations from Chebasset to the -city, however, gave Mather no chance to keep abreast of the march of -events, since the manager still spent most of his days and nights at the -seaside. Thus no one enlightened Pease until it became Beth's task to do -so herself. - -He dressed himself with unusual care one afternoon; had it been the -evening Miss Cynthia would never have suspected. But his newest suit, -his freshest gloves, the box of violets in his hand, and (more than all) -the single pink in his lapel--all these for a moment made her suspect -the truth as she watched him leave the house. "Whatever is the man----?" -But he was gone, and there was nothing to be done. - -He found Beth at home, and gave her the box of violets. She thanked him -with such prettiness as always charmed him, such warmth as always made -him glow. The poor man tried now to say words of love, he who had never -practised them even to himself. It was a long way round, through the -weather, the news, the latest invitation, to the deepest emotion of the -human heart. But he pointed straight to it at last, and Beth understood. - -So she sprang to head him off in the kindest, surest way. "I----" she -hesitated with heightened colour, "I have something to tell you, Mr. -Pease. Almost nobody knows it [almost everybody was nearer the truth, as -Jim weekly complained], but you have been such a good friend that I -think I should like you to know." - -"You are very kind," he answered, much pleased, and opening his bosom to -the fatal dart. "I will tell no one without your permission." - -"I should like you to tell your cousin," she said. "I--I----" Her face -became scarlet. "Mr. Pease, I am engaged to marry Mr. Wayne." - -Down fell his house of cards; it seemed as if the chambers of his brain -resounded, and for a moment his head bowed low. Then he raised it again -and looked at her, and for the merest instant she saw a face of misery. - -"Oh, Mr. Pease," she cried, "I am so sorry!" - -There was a moment of stupid silence. "I--I regret," he said at length, -"to distress you, by letting you know." - -"How can I help knowing?" she answered simply. He sat dumb while she, -twisting her fingers in and out, sought for further words. "If I," she -said at last with tears in her eyes, "if I have hurt you, I hope that -you will blame me, and forget me." - -"Blame?" he cried. "And forget? No, no!" She saw his face light nobly. -"Miss Blanchard, you have given me new ideals--humanised me. Blame and -forget? Why, my life was small and narrow; you have led me out of -myself! Everything is better through knowing you. Therefore, I may say -with a cheerful heart: - - "Tis better to have loved and lost - Than never to have loved at all!" - -He sat upright and smiled, but tears stood in her eyes; she could make -no response. After a moment he asked her: "You are to be married soon?" - -"No," she answered, and gained command of herself. "We must wait a -while--and you know it is very slow, rising in Mr. Wayne's business." - -"Yes." Then he rose and held out his hand; she gave him hers at once. "I -will go," he said. "Do not reproach yourself, and--God bless you -always!" He bent and kissed her hand, smiled again, and then was gone. - -She sat down, miserable. Not his brave cheerfulness, nor his almost -comic quoting of the old-fashioned couplet, could drive from her the -knowledge that his heart was bleeding. Slowly the tears welled out upon -her cheeks. - -Then Wayne entered joyously. "I passed old Pease on the steps, and he -didn't see me. What's wrong with him?" - -She ran to him. "Oh, Jim!" she cried, and clung to him, weeping. - -"Oho! Indeed?" he exclaimed, and horrified her by loud laughter. - -Pease had not noticed whom he passed upon the steps. For a moment after -leaving the house he had stood in the vestibule, looking at the setting -sun. One would have said that its splendour passed into his face and -illumined it; indeed, a glory entered him at that moment, an ecstacy of -self-forgetfulness. The sunset faded quickly, but the inner light still -shone on his face as he went homeward. - -Miss Cynthia saw it when he entered the parlour where she was sitting. -Her cousin had never appeared so to her before, and for a moment she -mistook. "Is it possible?" she asked herself. - -"Cynthia," he said quietly, "Miss Beth Blanchard asked me to tell you -that she is to marry Mr. Wayne." - -"No!" she cried, angry at once, her love for her cousin blazing in her -eyes. "She mustn't!" Then she was ashamed, for he answered gently: - -"It seems to me a very happy fortune." - -But he could say no more, for a single dry sob burst from her. Fearing -to lose his own self-command, he went up to his room. - -From that minute Miss Cynthia's admiration of her cousin, which for some -time had been passive, recommenced to grow, expanding far beyond its -former boundaries as she found what further depths there were in his -character. Never, even in their early days of struggle, had he been so -considerate, kind, and wise. Indeed, on the very day after his great -disappointment he proved his manliness. - -Pease travelled down to Chebasset and found Mather in the office as -usual. The manager greeted him with an inward pity, for in the morning's -mail he had received a letter from Beth, informing her dear George, whom -she had always regarded as one of her best friends, that she and Mr. -Wayne--etcetera, etcetera. With sorrow for Pease, therefore, Mather -greeted him, to be surprised by the banker's smile. When his errand was -announced Mather was surprised the more. - -"You have been saying, haven't you," asked Pease, "that you must soon -have an assistant here, to take charge of the mill while you are in the -city." - -"Yes," Mather answered. "We are running smoothly now, and my hands are -more than full, taking care of both making and selling. I must be in the -city all the time, so soon as I can find a capable man to take my place -here." - -"I have found him," announced Pease, beaming. "James Wayne!" - -"I said a _capable_ man, Mr. Pease," replied Mather. "The boy is green -and flighty." - -"Yes, I know," said Pease. "But isn't he worth the trial?" - -Mather rose and began to pace the office. Did he dare trust anything in -Jim's hands? "You promised me," he reminded, "that I should have full -control over the business." - -"So you shall, so you shall," soothed Pease. "But a trial? Come, now!" - -Between respect for his employer, affection for Beth, and interest in -Wayne himself, Mather saw that he was caught. "You're too good for -words!" he said, and yielded. - -So the position was offered to Jim, and gave Beth a happy opening to her -engagement. Amid all the presents which, according to the custom that -ignores the chance of a broken betrothal, came pouring in, nothing -pleased Beth so much as the fact that now it was open to her Jim to make -his way in the world. - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -WHICH DEVELOPS THE COLONEL'S FINANCIAL STRATEGY - - -To Judith Blanchard the publication of her sister's engagement was an -experience. Hourly Beth came to show a new letter or present, and with -head at Judith's shoulder sighed because people were so kind. Whenever -this happened, the image of Mather grew a little clearer in Judith's -heart, and that of Ellis so much less distinct. At the same time there -rose in Judith a dread of those vague misfortunes which Jim might bring -on Beth, and when one evening Ellis came to call, he found Judith -inspired with a desire to protect her sister against knowledge of the -real hard-heartedness of the world. - -"Your sister is very happy," he said after glancing at the table on -which the presents were displayed. "May she always remain so!" - -Judith turned on him with a curious energy. "You think she may not?" - -"I hope she may," was all he would reply. - -Judith studied him for a moment, then her eyes softened. "I am very fond -of Beth," she said. "We all know Jim; among us we must teach him to be -more of a man." - -She spoke simply, but her words moved Ellis; her assumption that he was -capable of human, domestic feeling almost roused it in him, and as at -their first meeting he felt that she could make him better than himself. -With the mist of sisterly affection shed upon her eyes, Judith was -sweeter than he had ever known her; yet at the same time a knowledge of -her pricelessness came to him, and he feared this softer side of her as -the one on which she would be strongest in defense: it was Mather's -side. The sole feelings which Ellis knew himself capable of rousing in -her were ambition and the admiration of great things; he felt that he -must keep them constantly before her. - -"I have some news for you," he said. And so he found himself safely in -the back parlour just as the door-bell rang for another visitor. - -It was Mather who came; Beth met him with thanks for the roses he had -sent, perishable signs of good wishes. Jim had grumbled at the flowers: -"Why doesn't he send something practical?" But Beth had been delighted, -and now told Mather so, calling Wayne to her side to echo her words. -Next she spoke with still deeper gratitude, alluding to the position -which had been given Jim. - -"And you are glad," Mather asked, "because after this you can't see so -much of him?" - -"Ah," Beth replied shyly, "we shall the sooner be able to see each other -all the time." - -"But don't thank me," Mather continued. "It was Pease's idea. Thank me -if Jim _keeps_ his place." He nodded at the young man with a meaning -which was not exactly jovial, and which Jim (being like others of his -age, half-loutish and half-assertive) resented accordingly. So Jim got -himself away, to talk aimless commonplaces with the next visitor, Pease, -and to glare at Mather as he still spoke with Beth. - -"He's prepared to be a father to me," Jim grumbled, for, in the business -talk already held, Mather had laid down application and steadiness as -requisites. Jim had taken the warning indifferently, whence the renewed -hint, purposely given for Beth's benefit, as Jim appreciated. "Now," he -thought, "she'll rub it into me." - -Meanwhile Mather and Beth spoke of matrimony, and exchanged -conventionalities while they struggled with deep thoughts. They felt -that they understood each other; besides, each had at the same time a -regret for the other's fate. Thus Beth, with her knowledge of Ellis in -the back parlour, pitied Mather, who in his turn grieved that Jim's -weaknesses were unknown to Beth. But being genuinely sympathetic, Mather -and Beth felt the thrill of their friendship, and were more closely -drawn together by this belief in each other's impending unhappiness. -Therefore, though for a time they spoke in a lighter vein, at last their -feeling came to the surface. Mather had described marriage and its -inconveniences, as seen from the bachelor's standpoint. "I am not -afraid!" declared Beth with a toss of the head. Then with an impulse he -took her hands. - -"We know that troubles may come, however lucky we may seem, don't we, -Beth?" he said. "Look here, if ever you need any help, you'll remember -me, won't you?" - -And Beth, instead of retorting that she had her father and Jim to rely -on, for the moment forgot those sturdy protectors, and promised that she -would. Beth was at this time always on the edge of emotional gratitude, -and there was a glimmer of tears in her affectionate eyes as she -answered. Then the Colonel came wandering into the room, at the same -time as the voices of Judith and Ellis were heard at the door of the -back parlour, and Beth and Mather separated. Jim drew her aside at once. - -"Why did you hold hands with him so?" he asked. - -"He's one of the oldest friends I have," she replied in surprise. "And -I'm so sorry for him, Jim!" She led him to the window recess, and tried -to interest her lover in Mather's mournful fate, but Jim did not enter -into her sorrow to the degree which she anticipated. Then that happened -which Mather had desired and Jim dreaded, for Beth spoke of the position -at the mill: he mustn't lose it. "You will work hard, won't you, Jim -dear?" - -"Do you suppose I shan't?" he demanded testily. Whereby he put Beth in -the wrong, so that she repressed a sigh, and begged his pardon. - -Now while Jim, after this triumph, assumed a sulky dignity which was -quite appropriate, the Colonel was still wandering, mentally at least, -if the quality of his words with Mather and Pease was a sign. -"Woolgathering," decided Mather, and relapsed into silence while the -Colonel explained to Pease that the peculiar actions of the autumn -weather were--ha, peculiar, and how were matters with Mr. Pease? Then -the Colonel did not listen, and started when the answer was innocently -ended with a question. Vaguely, he said he didn't know. - -"In my business," went on Pease, apparently satisfied, "the state of the -stock market occasions considerable vigilance. One does not seem able -even to guess what will happen." - -"No," acquiesced the Colonel, this time with an attention which the -fervour of his tone attested. "That is very true." - -Unhappily true, he might have said without exaggeration. Indeed, were -life an opera, and had each person his _leit-motif_, the Colonel would -have taken wherever he went an undertone of jarring excitement. The -cymbals would best express the clashing of his hopes and fears; he rose -in the night to figure on bits of paper, read the news feverishly each -evening, and roused Judith's criticism of his tendency to carry away -the stock-market reports. Judith was watching those stocks in which -Ellis was interested, but while her concern was merely in the theory of -market manipulation, the Colonel's was sadly practical. - -And it was on his mind this night that he was near an end; his life's -opera was approaching that grand crash when the cymbals were to be -drowned by the heavier brasses. In his pocket were barely two hundred -dollars in cash, he had placed his last thousand at the broker's, and -the broker had sent word that he must have another in the morning. The -Colonel looked at his daughters, Beth sweet and Judith proud; he looked -at Pease and Ellis, safe from calamity; he looked at Jim with his youth -and Mather with his strength. None of them had troubles; he alone was -miserable. - -And the Colonel, when he could withdraw, went into a corner and brooded -over his ill-luck, thus alone, of all the company, failing to remark the -special brilliancy of Judith's beauty. Ellis saw it and was proud, for -he had caused it; Mather noted it and groaned, for it was not for him; -Beth admired; Jim came out of his sulk, swaggered, and made up to her; -even Pease was roused to a mild admiration. And Judith herself felt as -if she had moved the world a foot from its orbit. - -Ellis's news had been important. "Do you remember the advice you gave -me?" he had inquired when the two were alone in the little parlour. - -"About the corporation lawyer?" she asked eagerly. "Of course! Tell me, -have you done anything with him?" - -"Anything? Everything!" he responded with enthusiasm. "That magazine -told all about him, and I looked him up in New York. He came on here--I -don't know how I should have put it through without him." - -"Then you have managed it?" she asked. - -Indeed he had, he assured her. A man gets--well, misjudged by others, -sometimes; there had been a prejudice to overcome before he could affect -this consolidation. The others had been unusually shy; the safeguards -Ellis offered had not satisfied them. But the lawyer had straightened -matters out so that all had gone smoothly, and he, Ellis, had saved -money by his means. - -"Good!" cried Judith. - -"We paid him twenty-five," Ellis said. - -"Twenty-five?" - -"Thousand," he explained. - -"So much?" cried Judith. - -"Oh," answered Ellis, "it was no great affair for him. He often gets -much more." - -Judith was speechless. - -"And," said Ellis, "there is some one else we ought to fee, if only it -were possible. But I scarcely see how I could bring her name before the -directors." - -"A woman?" she asked, much excited. - -"You," he replied briefly, and his mouth shut with its customary -firmness. But his eyes noted her exhilaration. - -"I?" she demanded. "I? Do you mean that what I said was of importance?" - -"You have saved us time. You have put money directly in my pocket. Ten -thousand is what I calculate I've saved in concessions, and in the time -gained by shortening trouble I reckon I've made as much more." He -laughed. "What percentage shall I give you?" - -But she would not jest. "You're welcome, welcome!" she exclaimed. "I'm -satisfied, just to feel that I have been a factor. Just to know that -I--oh, Mr. Ellis, you can't know how I feel!" - -And Judith was near the danger line at that moment, as she leaned toward -him with sparkling eyes. He saw it, believed his chance had come, and -sought to take advantage of it. "I shall consult you always after this," -he said. "I will bring you all my difficulties. A partnership--what do -you say to that?" - -She laughed in deprecation, yet she was flattered, and the stimulus -caused her to rear her head and expand her nostrils in the way she had. -In his turn he was thrilled, and fire entered his veins. - -"What do you say?" he repeated, leaning toward her. "Shall we be -partners?" - -"A silent partnership?" she asked. "Or will you put up the sign, Ellis -and Blanchard?" - -The answer sprang to his lips, but he checked it, wondering if he dared -venture. A glance at her face decided him; she was looking, still with -those triumphant eyes, away from him, as if she saw visions of success. -He spoke hoarsely. - -"Not Ellis and Blanchard, but--Ellis and Ellis!" - -She looked at him. "What did you say?" she asked absently, as if her -thoughts had been elsewhere. Then, looking where her glance had been, he -saw Mather in the farther room. Mather--and she had not heard! - -"I said nothing," he answered, almost choking. - -Even his discomfiture escaped her, and presently she took him to the -others. Her excitement was not gone, it made her wonderfully beautiful, -but though he might triumph that he had caused it, he knew that she had -slipped away from him. He tried in vain to master his exasperation. - -Judith's thoughts were of Mather; she felt that if she could tell him -what she had done, she would crush him. This was what she had hoped -for: the time when she should prove that she could influence events. He -had said the world would be too much for her! Perhaps now she could -break that masterfulness against which she had always rebelled. And she -smiled at the quiet assurance of his manner, for he had merely started a -mill and built up a business, while she had all but created a Trust! It -would humble him, if he but knew. - -There is no need of describing the next half-hour's doings of that mixed -company. Pride and sweetness, loutishness, strength, amiability, -ambition, and a feeble man's weak despair, all were together in the -Blanchard's parlour, and got on very badly. It is enough to say that -Judith talked with Mather, looking at him from time to time with a gleam -of unexpressed thought which he did not understand; that Ellis, trying -to subdue a grin of fury into a suave smile, put his hands in his -pockets and clenched them there; and that by this action he exposed, -protruding from his vest pocket, the end of a narrow red book at which -the Colonel was presently staring as if fascinated. - -Now the Colonel had once been, as already stated, what the early -Victorians were fond of calling a man of substance. Hence complacence to -the exclusion of persistence, and a later life dominated by the -achievements of youth. He ran away from college to go to the Civil War, -and at the coming of peace retired on his laurels. Arduous service in -the State militia brought him his title; he married, travelled, and -frittered away the years until changes in the value of property brought -him face to face with what might seem the unavoidable choice, either to -accommodate himself to a more modest establishment, or to go to work to -earn money. - -Out of the seeming deadlock the Colonel's financial insight found a way. -His capital, used as income, for some years more maintained him in the -necessary way of life. Meanwhile he promised himself to regain his money -by the simple means of the stock market, but when he came to apply the -remedy, some perverseness in its workings made it fail, and to his -astonishment he found himself at the end of his resources. To none of -his friends might he turn for relief, for your friend who lends also -lectures, and the Colonel could never bear that. Our esteemed warrior -was, however, still fertile in resource, and his genius discovered a -possible base of supplies. Hence the fascination exerted by the -check-book which Ellis always carried about with him. - -Some moralists might dub the Colonel weak for dwelling on this -contemplation. Yet consistency is regarded as a virtue, and the Colonel -was usually consistent in trying to get what he wanted. With his -military eye still fixed on the end of the narrow red book, he drew near -to Ellis and began to speak with him. Naturally, that which was in the -Colonel's mind came first to his lips. - -"The stock market has been flighty lately," quoth he. - -So were girls, thought Ellis. "Very flighty," he said. "But that -scarcely concerns you, I hope." - -"Oh, no, no!" the Colonel hastily assured him. "And yet--Mr. Ellis, may -I have a word with you in my study?" - -Accustomed though he was to every turn of fortune, Ellis's heart leaped. -Was the fool coming into his hands at last? Then, as he looked once more -at Judith, the unduly sensitive organ made the reverse movement, -contracting with a spasm of real pain. She was not even noticing him -now. He followed the worthy Colonel to what was called his study. - -Blanchard had no moral struggle to make before he broached his subject. -His fibre had degenerated long ago; his sole feeling was regret that he -must expose himself to one who was below his station. Taking care, -therefore, not to lower himself in his own eyes by subservience in word -or manner, the Colonel indicated his need of a few thousands, "just to -tide him over." He wondered if Ellis were willing to advance the money. - -Ellis took the request quietly, and sat as if thinking. His cold face -concealed a disturbance within: elation struggling with an unforeseen -doubt. This collapse on the Colonel's part Ellis had watched and hoped -for, yet now that it had come a dormant instinct stirred, questioning -whether to control Judith by such means were not unworthy of himself. A -man was fair game, but a woman--Ellis roused himself impatiently. -Entirely unaccustomed to making moral decisions, he could not see that -he stood at the parting of ways, and that from the moment when he -leagued himself with the Colonel, deceit entered into his relations with -Judith. Intolerant of what seemed a weakness, he crushed down the doubt. -What was he dreaming of? The chance was too good to be lost. - -Need of appearing businesslike made him ask a few questions. "What -security can you offer?" - -"Nothing whatever," answered the Colonel, grandly simple. - -"This house?" asked Ellis. - -"Twice mortgaged, and," added the Colonel as if the joke were upon his -mortgagees, "out of repair." - -Ellis took note of the admission; if the mortgagees knew that the house -were in poor condition, they might sell cheap. "The house at Chebasset?" -he inquired. - -"Merely rented." - -"No stocks or bonds, no other property?" Ellis persisted. - -"My furniture," was all the Colonel could suggest. - -This time a real repugnance seized Ellis. "Nothing of that kind," he -answered sharply, feeling that to have a lien on the very chair which -Judith sat in was too much. Yet the thought of her, thus again brought -in, grew in spite of this spasm of right feeling, and even while he -despised the Colonel for his unmanliness, his own lower nature spoke. -"There is one other thing, however." - -The Colonel saw his meaning. "Mr. Ellis," he cried, with fine -indignation, "I mean to repay you every cent!" - -But the eye of the warrior fell before that of the parvenu. "Cur!" -thought Ellis. "Damn your small spirit!" Nevertheless, he drew out his -check-book. "You will give your note, of course?" - -"Of course!" replied the Colonel with dignity. Two documents changed -hands, one in fact, the other by courtesy representing the value of five -thousand dollars. Then Ellis refused the Colonel's invitation to stay -and smoke; the transaction tasted badly in his mouth. - -"But at least you will come into the parlour again," said the Colonel, -when they were once more in the front hall. Ellis stood without -replying, and the Colonel waited while he looked in at the others. - -Pease had gone, the other four remained, and Mather was the center of -the group. Wayne was regarding him resentfully, Beth affectionately, -Judith unfathomably. She still remembered the news which Ellis had -brought. - -"So you are glad to be a city man again?" asked Beth of Mather. - -"Yes," he replied, "but poor Jim!" - -"Poor Jim!" echoed Beth tenderly. - -"He can stand it," testily rejoined the object of their sympathy. - -"I don't know that I shall feel at home here, after being a countryman -so long," said Mather. "Will you tell me all that has happened down-town -in my absence. Judith?" - -Without answering, she threw him a glance, meaning that she could--if -she would! In the hall Ellis turned abruptly away, and gathered up his -hat and coat. - -"No, I won't come in," he said to the Colonel, and went away at once. - -His hold on Blanchard, now that it was gained, seemed unaccountably -small. It would grow, Ellis had no doubt of that, for the Colonel was on -the road down hill; and yet the relationship promised less than it -might. For though by this means Ellis might win possession of Judith, he -wanted more than that; he must have her esteem. And Mather had taken her -mind from him! Ellis grew hot and cold with that strange feeling whose -name he could not discover, while yet its disturbances were stronger -from day to day. - - * * * * * - -For the Colonel another act of his opera began with a pleasant jig; -cheered, he retired to his study, and began to plan how to double -Ellis's note. Jim took Beth away into the back parlour, where presently -the light grew dim. As the two went, Judith saw Beth's upward glance -into her lover's face, and her own thoughts changed and grew soft; she -turned to watch Mather as he sat before what had been, earlier in the -evening, a wood fire. - -She noticed how natural it seemed for him to gather the embers together, -put on wood from the basket, and start a little blaze. The action first -carried her back to the period before he was her declared lover; next it -drew her thoughts forward to a time when he might be--what Jim was to -Beth. And Mather, unconsciously working at the fire, started for Judith -a train of musing. - -Beth had taught her that to love was enviable, and that it might be a -relief to have one's future fixed. Sitting thus with Mather, it seemed -to Judith that just so must many a husband and wife be sitting, -contented and at home. When compared with the restless dissatisfaction -which so long had tormented her, the picture was alluring. Judith gave -herself to the mood. - -Mather toyed with the tongs for a minute longer, then gave the logs a -final tap into place, and turned to her as if rousing from thought. -"It's pleasant to be here," he said, "and it's fine to be in the city. I -like to meet people on the street again. It's as if I had had years of -exile." - -She smiled without replying, and he went on. "I think it's done me good. -Curious, isn't it, that to be knocked down and kicked out, and then to -go away and look at people through a telescope, should be a real -benefit? But I've gained a better perspective than before; I've had time -to think of the theory as well as the practice of affairs. Yes, it's -been healthful--but it's good to be back. You understand what I mean, -don't you, Judith?" - -"I do," she answered. Ellis was forgotten; here was George speaking as -he had not spoken for a year, of his ideas and experiences. She was glad -to have them brought to her, glad that he spoke freely and not bitterly, -and again the remembrance of Beth's happiness brought a vision of closer -relationship. - -He noted the softness of her mood, and without effort let the time drift -on, careful only not to disturb this harmony, until at last he felt that -the talk should be stopped before it ended of itself, and so he took his -leave. - -She gave him one of her direct looks as she offered her hand. "You have -been too busy, George," she said. "Come oftener." With the firm -hand-clasp to express the undercurrent of their thoughts, they parted. -Alone again by the fire, Judith indulged herself by looking forward. One -could drift into marriage, easily and agreeably. - -Then she heard Jim say good-night, and Beth came and leaned upon her -chair. "I want to tell you what Mr. Fenno said to me this afternoon," -said Beth. "About George and the new combination of the cotton millers." - -"What had George to do with that?" asked Judith. - -"The Wampum Mills held out a long while," answered Beth; "the whole -thing depended upon them. Mr. Fenno is president; George is a director, -but he sent in his resignation soon after he went to Chebasset, and -didn't attend their meetings for weeks." - -"Well?" asked Judith. - -"Well, the directors couldn't make up their minds, and at last they -refused to accept George's resignation, and sent for him. He looked into -the matter, and then he----" Beth paused to laugh. - -"Go on," begged Judith. - -"He scolded them for not jumping at the chance. Mr. Fenno said he hadn't -been so lectured since he was a boy; he was much pleased by it. So the -Wampum Mills went into the combination three days ago, all of the little -mills followed at once, and they expect to do almost double business -now. Isn't it fine of George?" - -"Fine!" agreed Judith, but her gentler mood was destroyed. Ellis also -had had part in the combination, the greater part. If one were to -compare the achievements and to choose between the men, if one were to -do rather than to dream----! She threw off her thoughts of Mather as -one throws off a cloak and looks upon it lying shapeless. Life and -action suddenly called her again; she, too, had influenced this matter. -She remembered Ellis's acknowledgment of indebtedness, the suggestion of -partnership, and the compliment pleased her. Mather passed completely -from her mind, and Ellis dominated her as before. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -SOMETHING NEW - - -If Mrs. Harmon's marriage was her most brilliant success, it was also -her greatest disappointment--as it was her husband's. At times when she -thought of her position, she was satisfied; when she realised its -restraints she rebelled. For she was robust, full-blooded, stirring, but -the Judge was "set in his ways." He was mental, she was physical; as a -result she completely misprized him. - -He had brought her into a circle where she did not belong; it was as if -a gardener had set among roses some hardy, showy plant, a flaunting -weed. Pleased as Mrs. Harmon was, her position irked her to maintain; -respectability was often very wearisome, very flat. There was little -spice and go to life; too much restraint was required. Not entirely -vulgar, not exactly coarse, she fretted first, then yearned for other -things. Barbaric is the word that fits her best; she was like the -educated Indian who longs for his free dress and freer ways. - -Liberty was out of the question, since she would never give up the -brilliance of her position. Personal freedom she had; for the Judge, -when he found that she could not be the companion that he hoped, gave -her all the money that he could, and let her (within bounds which she -understood very well and overstepped only in secret) do as she pleased. -But she had in her the craving for physical stimuli; earth was her -mother. A five-mile walk daily might have kept her mind clear, yet she -would have had to walk alone, and that was unbearable. Loving people, -she lacked companionship, for with women below her station she would not -chum, while with those in it she could not. We have seen how Judith -failed her; there remained only the men. Handsome and shrewd, Mrs. -Harmon had gained her position without yielding to their snares; but now -that the dangers which beset her single life were past, she began to -look back at them inquiringly. Her beauty was full-blown; soon it would -begin to fade, and her nature cried out against losing youth and all its -pleasures. - -Her feelings were from instinct, not calculation; her actions were -impulsive. When she first met Ellis, quite unconsciously her thoughts -had dwelt on him. He was unresponsive; the two dropped into a habit of -semi-intimacy, but having thus begun to let her fancy roam, Mrs. Harmon -yearned for an Adonis until her dreams centered with some constancy upon -a vision which answered to the name of Jim. - -Circumstances are everything; there is nothing human which does not -depend upon them absolutely, and Mrs. Harmon might have "sighed and -pined and ogled" forever, had not Wayne been thrown in her path at a -time when his mind was ready to welcome diversion. - -It happened that he had planned to go to the theater with Beth. They -wanted to go alone, therefore they must go in the afternoon. He chose a -Wednesday, though only Saturday afternoons belonged to him. The play was -advertised in a manner to excite Jim's interest, and he assured Beth it -would be "bully." Coming up from Chebasset at eleven o'clock, he dressed -himself in his best and lunched at the Blanchard's. Then as the hour -approached he started with Beth for the temple of amusement. - -She pressed his arm as they stood for a minute in the vestibule. -"Naughty boy!" she said, beaming on him. "Naughty to spend so much money -on me!" - -"We mustn't dry up, Beth," he answered. "Life's too serious to have no -fun in it." - -"But to take an afternoon from work!" she said, so prettily that only -conscience would have blinded him to the intended thanks. Jim's sense of -guilt, however, made him start. - -"Confound it, Beth," he cried, stopping short and looking at her, "don't -you trust me to take an afternoon off without stealing it?" - -"Oh, oh!" she exclaimed. "Jim, I didn't mean that!" She tried to soothe -his irritation away, but it was a bad beginning to their pleasure, and -they could not talk freely on the way to the theater. When they entered -the lobby she felt that he was still touchy, therefore she said nothing -of the flaming posters which she saw now for the first time. Women in -tights, drunken men--but Jim had said the play would be fine; these were -only to catch the passer's eye. - -Jim unbent again when they were once seated: the curtain, the bustle, -the anticipation pleased him. "It's going to be great!" he said. "It's -fun to be together, isn't it, Beth?" He was as loving as before, and her -little heart was happy. - -But when the curtain went up, and the play commenced, poor Beth began to -sicken. Women with tights appeared, and said unpleasant things; the -drunken man came on, and reeled about horribly. Besides these -attractions there were two people who gave a travesty of lovers, at -which Jim nudged her; there was a woman who drank beer, and a waiter who -spilled it down her neck. At this last whimsical situation the theater -rocked with laughter, so that Beth became aware that there were people -who liked that sort of thing; next she saw that Jim at her side was weak -with merriment at the exquisite foolery. The curtain went down to a song -which the audience regarded as deliciously droll, but at which Beth rose -from her seat, her cheeks flaming. - -"What is it?" asked Jim, astonished. - -"I must go home," she answered. "Come." - -While the curtain was going up again that the singer might be -complimented, Beth and Jim made their way out of the theater. He cast -glances behind at the prima donna; Beth looked neither right nor left. -But when they were free of the place, he came to her side with anxiety -in his face. - -"Are you ill?" he asked. - -"No," she said. - -"Then what is it?" - -"That play, Jim." - -"What?" he cried, thunderstruck. - -"It was dreadful," she said, "I couldn't bear it." - -He could say nothing at first, but at length he tried to speak. "Then -the money I've spent--and my time?" - -"Don't, Jim!" she pleaded. "Not here in the street." - -"Very well," he answered stiffly, and was silent until he reached her -house. But when she started up the steps he stood still and raised his -hat. - -"Jim!" she exclaimed, halting. "Aren't you coming in?" - -He backed away and would not look at her. "Later," he said. - -"Jim!" she cried appealingly. - -He turned and went away without another word, doing what he knew he -should repent, for she was very sweet, very piteous. She would have run -after him to draw him back but--some one was coming. She went into the -house and sat in tears, waiting for him to return, but he did not come. - -Now the person who was coming was Mrs. Harmon, and she saw it all. She -perceived the scowl on Jim's face; she almost heard Beth's pleading. On -impulse she turned back as if she had forgotten something, and allowed -Jim to overtake her. - -"Why, Mr. Wayne!" she said, and Jim could not pass without speaking. - -"Good-afternoon," he said. - -"A very beautiful afternoon," she responded, so that however reluctant, -he had to delay. And now is seen the beginning of the afternoon's -development, for when she next spoke she had no thought beyond what was -expressed by her words. "An afternoon for a walk, Mr. Wayne." She had -the very faintest hope that he might offer to walk with her. - -"An afternoon for the theater," answered Jim bitterly, as he remembered -the delights he had lost. Mrs. Harmon's disappointment was far greater -than her expectations. - -"Are you going?" she asked him. "What, you have been, Mr. Wayne? But how -are you out so early?" - -"Some people," answered Jim, "don't care for the theater." - -Mrs. Harmon, recalling what she had just seen, did some swift guessing. -"My husband, for instance," she said lightly. - -"And Miss Blanchard," added Jim gloomily. - -She thought she guessed why Jim would not walk with her. "You are going -back to see the rest of the performance alone?" - -But the idea came to him as new. He took from his pocket two slips of -blue cardboard and regarded them resentfully. "I could go back," he -said. "The man gave me these at the door. I've half a mind to." - -_Two_ slips of cardboard! A thought came to her, of such weight that she -needed time to consider it; therefore she changed the subject. "How do -you like your new business?" she asked. "It must be very interesting." - -Thus she opened new fields of discontent. "Interesting enough," answered -Jim. "But a fellow that has had freedom finds it very confining." - -"I can imagine it," she murmured. "And it is a different line of work." - -"Quite different," agreed Jim. "Compared with brokering, it's dull, Mrs. -Harmon. I miss the excitement; it's awful humdrum at the mill. There's -such lots of stupid detail." - -"Then Chebasset is so far from the city," she supplemented. - -"It is difficult to get any time here," he said, "unless you take an -early train, you know." Recollection came to him again, and he added: -"And when a fellow makes a special effort to give another person -pleasure, and she--well, never mind!" Jim sighed heavily. - -Mrs. Harmon made a sympathetic pause. Motives were balanced in Jim's -brain just then, resentment and desire for pleasure driving him away -from Beth, affection and remorse drawing him back. Had Mrs. Harmon been -the deepest of schemers, she could not have thrown her weight more -cleverly against Beth's. Seeing that they were approaching a corner, -which might separate her from Jim, she thought only to continue the -conversation; but behold, she augmented the current of his discontent. -"How do you enjoy working under Mr. Mather?" she asked. - -The gloom deepened on Jim's face. "Mather's kind of--oh, well, he -expects every one to see things the way he does." - -"I can imagine he's strict," she said. - -"He's arbitrary!" answered Jim emphatically. - -"It's too bad!" she responded with sympathy. But they were at the -corner, and she stopped. One way led down town, one to quieter -neighbourhoods--and this in morals as well as in geography. She meant -not to separate from Jim, and yet how to keep him, or go with him? Mere -instinct guided her again, and this time she gave herself to it and -followed without further thought. - -"Well?" she asked, as they stood still. - -"Well?" echoed Jim, quite blank, yet seeing she expected him to say -something. - -"Shall I go one way, or the other?" she demanded. - -"One way, or the other?" he repeated stupidly. - -"I meant to make calls," she said, accenting the preterit, "but if you -should ask me" (accenting the auxiliary) "to go with you to see the rest -of that play----" She made no finish, but cocked her head and looked -past him, sidewise. - -"Gad!" cried Jim, staring. - -"Ah, well!" she sighed, turning away. - -"Come on!" he exclaimed. "Come along, Mrs. Harmon. Jove, it will be -great fun!" - -"Why, I didn't really mean it," she replied, but smiling gaily. - -She was everything that Beth was not: pronounced, vivacious, -multi-coloured. She was handsome, red-cheeked, bright of eye, and if she -was a little hard of glance, Jim did not perceive it. She pleased him; -he urged her again. - -"Well, I can do some shopping," she said with a teasing accent of -reflection, and went down town by his side. The theater was not far; -when they reached it, she made as if to pass on. "Good-bye," she said. - -"Oh, Mrs. Harmon!" cried he. - -"You really mean you want me to come in?" she asked. - -"Of course!" insisted Jim, and lied manfully. "I wanted it all the -time." - -"I haven't seen this play," she said, reflecting. "My husband never -takes me to the theater." - -"Then let me," he urged. A strain of music was wafted out as she -hesitated. "See, we're losing some." - -"How funny," she said, looking at him and smiling, "to go in this way. -But it's a lark, isn't it, Mr. Wayne. Come on, then!" She stepped before -him to the door, and in a moment they were in the theater together. - -There were again the dusk, the rustle, and the music. Some voice beyond -the footlights called "_Zwei bier!_" and a laugh followed from the -audience. A noiseless usher led the two to their seats, which they took -while watching the woman on the stage doubtfully circling away from the -waiter who had spilt beer on her before. The second act was not yet -finished; there were ten minutes more before the curtain went down, -which it did just as the actress turned a somersault, quite modestly. -The third act was even more capriciously humorous than the other two. - -Mrs. Harmon and Jim enjoyed themselves keenly, the thrill of the unusual -companionship adding excitement to the pleasure. At last she was with -him; for the first time he was with some one else than Beth. He still -had enough resentment against Beth to feel that he was serving her -right; he compared her with Mrs. Harmon; he wished Beth were more--well, -sensible. Mrs. Harmon displayed an abundance of sense; she saw the good -points; jokes that Beth would have missed entirely were not lost on -Mrs. Harmon. When they walked to her house together she spoke most -appreciatively of the extravaganza. If Beth could but be thus! - -But most of all Jim felt that he pleased a woman. Mrs. Harmon leaned to -him at times, put her face near his; he felt her breath; once in the -theater her hair touched him. She was sympathetic and confidential; they -reached the "you-and-I" stage very quickly. Thus: - -"If the Judge were only a little more like you, Mr. Wayne!" This at -beginning; then, "I had thought you so stately, Mr. Wayne, but we seem -to have just the same tastes." Those tastes were discussed next, putting -all the rest of the world on a lower plane, so that "how amusing others -are" was a natural conclusion, and Jim realised that he and she were -looking upon life as on a spectacle. - -In this there was flattery beyond his power to resist; there was, -besides, a suggestion too subtle for him to perceive at first. She made -it plain that because her husband and she were not congenial, she went -with Jim; but for a time the corollary escaped him--that because he had -gone with her, therefore he and Beth were not at one. He saw only that -he was taking a vacant place, and that she was grateful to him. - -At her door Mrs. Harmon looked at him, smiling doubtfully. "I would ask -you in, only----" - -Jim had grown bold. "Well, why?" - -"No, no! It would never do--not after what we have already done. And you -will of course not say anything about this, Mr. Wayne?" she added -seriously. - -Thus the final idea came to him that they two had been near, very near, -the border-line of convention. "Not really?" he asked. - -"Of course Miss Blanchard, if you wish," she answered. - -"Shall I even tell her?" he said, trying to look knowing. - -"You bad man!" she murmured, bending to him. "But it has been great -fun!" Then she ran up the steps. As Jim walked away he suppressed his -gratification, and endeavoured to estimate her character. She was quite -different from what people thought her. - -That evening he dined with his mother; afterwards he went to the club. -But the sense of guilt grew on him, and drove him at last to the -Blanchards'. There Beth was still watching for him, so unhappy! She -sobbed in his arms, begging his pardon--yes, the poor little thing -begged his pardon, and Jim forgave her. - -He did not tell her of Mrs. Harmon, nor did he stay late, for he had to -travel to Chebasset. It was not of Beth that he thought most in the -train. Beth had only called him a naughty boy; Mrs. Harmon said he was a -bad man. He felt as if he had been pleasantly wicked, like the fellows -in New York or Paris, going about with married women. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - -WHICH DEALS WITH SEVERAL OF OUR PERSONAGES - - -It is assumed in many fairy tales that the story ends with the -engagement, the beginning of which marks the end of trouble. But love, -though a solvent of selfishness, works slowly, and the added friction of -constant companionship is needed to make its results perfect. -Temperament and taste, therefore, during an engagement retain most of -their power. Thus it is not surprising that two months were not -sufficient to harden Beth Blanchard to the roughness of her lover's -embraces; she even found further faults in him. - -Of these shadows on his happiness Jim became early aware, and obeying a -passion which had not yet lost all its purity or force, he had -endeavoured to modify himself to suit the conditions which Beth very -gently imposed. He became less anthropophagous, moderating the violence -of his kisses; he came very near to estimating the value of her modesty, -which formed the essence of her sweetness. But he was already so much of -a man that he felt his superiority, and still so much of a boy that he -fretted at restraint. To expect him to stay always contented at Beth's -side was like asking him to admire Mozart when he had rag-time in his -blood. Her dainty harmonies were foreign to him. - -One Saturday evening he was at the Blanchards' when Mather came to call. -Beth proposed to go into the front parlour and speak to him. Jim -objected. "He comes for your sister; and besides, I see enough of him -during the week." - -But above her friendship for Mather, Beth possessed that spirit of -hospitality--old-fashioned, to be sure--which impelled her to greet each -visitor that came to the house. Further, she felt that to keep out of -sight of all who came, while yet she was within hearing, was not in the -best of taste. "But I haven't seen him for a long time," she said. -"And--I think we'd better go, Jim, if only for a little while." - -"Cut it short, then," he grumbled, and followed her through the -curtains. - -"Much of a suitor he is!" thought Jim, as he noticed how gladly Mather -rose from Judith's side and greeted Beth. Perhaps Judith thought the -same. There was a wholesome freshness about Beth which often brought -men's eyes to her and kept them there. Jim was usually proud of it; now -it irritated him. Moreover, he was left to talk with Judith, and that he -had found to be difficult. Therefore, when he had had more than enough -of her monosyllables, and felt that he had made a fool of himself in his -efforts to entertain her, he tried to break into the talk of the other -two. Beth had been speaking of Chebasset. - -"A hole!" said Jim, rising and standing by her chair. "An awful hole!" - -Mather laughed; Beth gave Jim a distressed little smile. "You did well -to get away and leave the work to me," continued Jim, addressing his -superior. He tried, successfully, for the effect of the true word spoken -in jest. "Winter coming on, too." - -Mather laughed again. "Jim," he said, "I went through all that when I -was your age, and worked at the machines besides." - -"You see, Jim," said Beth, "how much further ahead you are than George." - -"Nothing wonderful," he answered, for her remark went wrong. So did his -own; Mather exchanged a glance with Judith, and Beth shrank. Jim put his -arm around her neck. "Well, well," he went on, "let's not talk -business." - -Beth removed the arm, gently, as she rose. "Yes, we'll forget all that -till Monday," she said, and moved toward the door again. "We just came -in to say good-evening, George." She and Jim went away, to begin a -struggle of temperaments. - -"Why did you stay so long there?" he asked at once. - -"But Jim," she explained, "a little more makes no real difference, and -is so much more polite." - -"It makes a difference to me," he retorted, "when I have to talk with -your sister. Darn it, you know she and I never get on." - -She winced at his expletive, which seemed to hint of something stronger, -and so was just as bad. "Don't," she pleaded. "I--I'm sorry about -Judith, Jim." - -"I might be allowed to say darn sometimes," he complained. "Most men say -something worse." - -"It's just--manners, Jim," she answered. "And don't you think the way -you spoke to George, when so much depends upon him----" - -"Look here, Beth," he interrupted, "am I not a fair judge of my own -behaviour?" - -"I didn't say that, dear!" she cried. - -"He needn't give himself such airs, anyway," Jim went on. "Pease is my -boss, not Mather." - -"Oh, I think you mistake," she said. - -"Pease gave me the place," Jim persisted, "because--you know." - -The reference hurt poor Beth, to whom the thought of Pease was distress. -"Don't speak of it, dear," she begged. - -"It's so," asserted Jim. "But you'd think Mather was my father, from -the advice he gave me. Great fun it was, for you to give him another -chance at me!" - -There was nothing for her except submission. "I'm sorry," she said. But -Beth was not meek; she let him see, by tone and manner, that she yielded -only because she was overborne. Therefore he gave another thrust to make -his conquest sure. - -"I'm sorry you don't like my arm about your neck," he said. "Please -excuse me for putting it there." - -She went close to him. "Only when other people are about," she -explained, and put up her face. "You may--kiss me now, Jim, if you want -to." - -Beth would have been glad even of one of his engulfing embraces, as a -sign of reconciliation; but he kissed her gingerly and then sat down, -not on the sofa, but on a chair. Next he was surly for a while; then he -rose to go. - -"I'm tired," he said. "It's been a hard week." - -After that lie her sympathy was a reproach. "I'm so sorry," she -whispered, caressing him. "If I was cross, forgive me, dear. You do work -hard for me." No accusation could have cut deeper; he could scarcely -look her in the eyes as he said good-night at the door. - -Poor Beth laid her forehead against the dull wood, and listened to his -footsteps until they were gone. It worried her that Jim was tired, and -that she, not understanding, had been hard on him. She wished her -perceptions had been quicker; she resolved to study how to please him. -Poor, simple Beth! - -Jim, grumbling at his crosses, went homeward, but not home. For the -Harmon house was by his way; he saw lights in the lower windows, and he -loitered. Next, he went and rang the bell. He was shown into the -parlour, into a new atmosphere, for Mrs. Harmon rose with evident -gladness from her book, and her very greeting changed his mood. The -Judge was in his study; should she call him? Jim took his cue from the -flash of her eye. "No, no!" he cried, and they laughed together. - -And as he sat and looked at her--what a difference! There was fullness -of good looks in the face, far more pronounced than Beth's; the shoulder -was plump, the arm firm and pink. Beth never showed such attractions as -these, having the feeling that modesty became a girl. But though Mrs. -Harmon was no longer young, "Gad!" thought Jim, "if girls only knew as -much as women!" Mrs. Harmon brought cigarettes; she joked him as a man -would. Jolly, this was! - -Jim took a cigarette from the case she offered. "You're sure you don't -mind the smoke?" he asked. - -"I? Mind the smoke?" she returned. "I like it so much that--what do you -think of my box?" She closed the cigarette-case and showed him its -cover, standing by his side as he sat. - -"Swell!" said Jim. "Those Cupids with masks are simply slap! Whose -initials, Mrs. Harmon? Yours?" He laughed. - -"Why not mine?" she asked. - -"L. H.," read Jim. "L. is the Judge's initial, I know." - -"My name is Lydia," she said. "And my husband's name is Abiel, Mr. -Wayne." - -Jim rose hastily. "Then this is really your case, Mrs. Harmon. And do -you--will you--smoke with me?" - -"Of course I will!" she cried. - -Jim felt himself very much indeed like those fellows in New York or -Paris. She smoked gracefully; the movements displayed her hand and the -long, bare, beautiful arm. The shoulder rounded as she raised the -cigarette to her lips; even shoulder-straps would have marred that -display. But while he admired, with a sudden movement she cast the -cigarette into the fireplace: some one was at the front door. - -It was Ellis. "Oh, it's only you, Stephen," she said, when his short -form appeared in the doorway. "I needn't have spoiled my smoke, after -all." - -"You needn't have stopped anything for me," said Ellis, and added: "Just -dropped in to inquire for the Judge." - -Jim perceived, from Mrs. Harmon's laughter, that this was a byword with -her intimates; he offered her the box of cigarettes, and when she chose -one, struck a match. - -"No, no!" she cried, "your cigarette." - -She took it from him, her fingers brushing his; she lighted her own and -then offered his again. But when he was about to take it: "No, your -mouth!" she ordered, and obediently he opened his mouth to receive it. -Then she began to laugh at him, richly and infectiously, so that he -laughed with her, but did not miss the spectacle she presented. Standing -with her back against the center table, she leaned with her hands upon -it; her shoulders became more attractive than ever, and between them -rose the swelling throat. He laughed with delight, and letting his eye -wander over those charms, he missed the glances, amused and defiant, -which passed between Mrs. Harmon and Ellis. - -"So you're up to this, Lydia?" he seemed to inquire, but she to respond: -"Do not you interfere, sir!" - -There is no analysing those processes by which we find our affinities, -no theory of chance which will satisfactorily account for the meetings -of like states of mind. But here were Jim, once peevish, and Mrs. -Harmon, once bored, quite satisfied at last in each other's company, -and before long making this so evident that Ellis perceived that he had -interrupted. They left him out; Jim spoke to him from time to time, or -Mrs. Harmon turned on him that same warning glance. But if they chose to -act so, Ellis did not care; in fact, an idea came to him, and he smiled -as he watched Jim, like an astronomical body, moving along the line of -least resistance. - -For Ellis had just parted from Colonel Blanchard, who had called on him. -Ellis had received the Colonel in the one room of his mansion which -revealed daily occupancy, which no housekeeper might invade with duster -or broom. From among many papers in many cases, Ellis drew Blanchard's -promissory note, and silently laid it before him. - -"You come to redeem this?" he asked. "More than prompt, Colonel -Blanchard." - -The Colonel did not offer to explain with exactness. Like that person in -the fairy tale who sought to recover the lost cheeses by rolling others -after them, Blanchard had been throwing his dollars into the bottomless -pit of the stock-market and expecting them to return many-fold. But he -had broken the ice once with Ellis; it was easier now. He had, he said, -been--unfortunate. But if Mr. Ellis would only advance a little more, he -had not the slightest doubt of repaying in full, and very soon. - -Ellis knew the signs of the gambler; absolute certainty of making good -his losses, equal vagueness as to sources of supply. He made out another -check; the Colonel signed another note. They parted, but now, here at -the Harmons', Wayne seemed to recall the Colonel by his shallow, -gentlemanly ways. - -Months ago Judith had told Ellis that his way lay through the men. There -were only three who in any degree, through any feeling, might influence -her in his favour. One was Mather: out of the question. One was the -Colonel: he was secure. The third was Wayne, of whom, for her sister's -sake, Judith wished to make more of a man. During his stay Ellis was -mostly silent, studying this new problem. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - -JUDITH BUYS A TYPEWRITER - - -As the winter advanced, Judith found herself never free from her -struggle, the interest of which grew not only greater, but at times -intense. For gossip, as she foresaw, was busy with her name; and though -as yet she had not braved her circle in the endeavour to bring Ellis in, -her friends took occasion to disapprove of her acquaintance with him. -The disapproval being conveyed to her in a dozen ways, Judith was -frequently in a blaze of anger at people's officiousness, or as often -contemptuous of their curiosity. Since interference was always enough to -make her obstinate, her friends had no other effect on her than to make -her welcome Ellis more kindly than ever. - -An unforeseen factor in her troubles was the state of public affairs. -Judith read the papers diligently; she perceived a general increase of -opposition to Ellis. This did not disturb her, since your true student -is aware that the public is as often wrong as right. And at first she -took no interest in the search for a leader which was conducted by that -usually impotent party, the Reformers. These gentlemen had so often, in -Judith's hearing, been gently ridiculed as milk-and-water politicians, -that even amusement ceased within her as she read anew of their efforts. -Any campaign which they should conduct would be the usual formal and -ineffectual protest against "practical politics"; their candidate would -be, as always, an obscure person with no claim on public regard. -Judith's interest woke very suddenly when it was whispered that the -reform candidate was to be George Mather. - -Now she should see Mather and Ellis directly measured, and could know -the strength of each. And yet all this was still far away, while another -matter was of nearer interest: the rumour of a street-railway strike. -Wages had been lowered and the men were discontented; so also were the -patrons of the road. The efficiency of the service had greatly fallen -off, and the reform newspaper boldly dated the change at Mather's loss -of the presidency, charging Ellis with the desire to make money at the -public's expense. Judith sniffed at an accusation which she believed -would refute itself; she wondered that men should still trust in -campaign calumnies. One statement alone caused her serious thought, -namely the claim, soberly made, that in managing the details of a great -enterprise rather than attending to its finance Ellis was beyond his -depth. But at the call to the public to insist upon proper treatment as -well as to avert the calamity of a great strike Judith smiled to -herself. The public never interested itself in anything; and besides, -this was none of the public's business. - -Yet, though Judith was right in thinking that the management of the -street-railway company concerned the stockholders alone, and though her -estimate of the general harmlessness of the reform party was quite -correct, her interest in Mather was renewed. Judith was always very well -aware of her states of mind, and had noted by this time that whenever -her interest in Ellis's brilliancy relaxed, she was certain to find -Mather doggedly adding to his own achievements. And she granted it to be -much in his favour that though he lacked the fascinating abilities of -his keener rival, he had a formidable solidity. The very fact that his -name was used in connection with the reform nomination, gave that -nomination seriousness. - -Still, the caucus was months ahead, and it was hard to believe that -Ellis, who had never yet failed, could botch the management of the -street-railway. Men should be easier to manage than securities. And -though she received Mather kindly whenever he came, it was impossible -not to feel more interest in the man who came oftener, stayed longer, -and spoke most of himself. Mather had spoken of himself but once; he did -not seek, as Ellis did, to be alone with her, and no longer showed the -repressed eagerness of a suitor. He was easy, deliberate, never -preoccupied, and took no pains whatever to forward himself with her. - -On that evening when Beth had dragged unwilling Jim into the front -parlour, to her consequent unhappiness, Mather showed no impatience at -the interruption; he even rose again gladly when, Jim having gone, poor -Beth came creeping back again. - -"George," said Beth timidly, "Jim was a little--rude, just now." - -"No, no," he answered heartily. "Don't think of it, Beth." - -"If you will bear with him," she pursued, "I think he will come to see -how much he owes you." - -"Of course he will," he agreed. "Not that I'm anxious for any -acknowledgment. I understand he's lonely, Beth." - -"He is," she stated eagerly. "He misses----" - -She blushed, and added hurriedly, "And much of what he says is just -manner." - -"Don't you suppose I know him?" he asked. "Now don't worry, Beth. Just -keep him to his work, and he'll come out all right." - -He took her hand; she looked up shyly. "Do you think me foolish, -George?" - -"Fond used to mean foolish," he answered. "We'll call you fond. Jim must -succeed with you to back him!" And he kissed her hand. - -"Thank you," said Beth, doubtless referring to the encouragement. "Thank -you so much, George! Good-night." - -"Poor little thing!" said Mather, as he seated himself after she had -gone. "She's not happy, Judith." - -"It's Jim," she answered. - -"Have you any influence over him?" he asked. "If you have, make him -work." - -"I noticed," she remarked, "that you did not tell Beth that she has no -cause for worry. Is he not satisfactory?" - -"It may be inexperience," he answered, "it may be just Jim; I haven't -decided yet. The work isn't hard, for the foreman looks after everything -mechanical, yet our product is much less than it should be. All I need -to do is to go and sit in the Chebasset office for an hour, without -opening the door into the mill, and if the men know I'm there we turn -out six hundred pounds more that day." - -The statement was not surprising, as Judith compared Jim with the man -before her. "You think he will not suit." - -"I don't say that yet," he replied. "But it's very unpleasant, doing -business with your friends." - -Again she sat watching him as he stared into the fire, but not with the -emotion of that former time, for the state of mind which Beth had -aroused was passing. She thought of Mather, with unimpassioned interest, -as a fine type of man; but it was undeniable that, emotion being absent, -Ellis took an increasingly greater share of her thoughts, and stirred -her imagination more. The world was growing larger before her, not the -world of society but of the _World's Work_, the _Harper's Weekly_, -almost of the _Scientific American_, those magazines which express the -spirit of modern enterprise and hardheadedness, and from which she drew -her current information. One of them had recently published Ellis's -portrait; Judith glanced from Mather to the table whereon the magazine -was at this moment lying, and compared the two men as, but a few moments -before, she had contrasted Jim and Mather. Now it was Mather who stood -at the little end of the sign of inequality; Ellis was the giant and -Mather the mere man. Rumour set them against each other, but though -Judith had heard the whisper, "Mather is back," she had also seen the -smiles as people added: "Now what will he do?" - -"Yes," said Mather, rousing; "between us we can help Jim along." Then he -rose, and though it was early, said good-night. He left her wondering at -his method of cheerful entrance and speedy exit, his manner of being at -home in her presence. But after more thinking, she laid this to the fact -that he had nothing on his mind. - -Yet he was conscious of a future which beckoned him, and of ambitions, -not of his own creating, which stood ready for him to assume. He knew -that it was said that Mather had returned, knew that the idle were -smiling, the serious were watching to see what he would do. Not only -Pease, Fenno, Watson, Branderson, those four powers, held an expectant -attitude toward him, but the reform politicians did the same. He knew -the public feeling toward abuses might easily be roused, vexed and -alarmed as people were with the street railroad. A determined man, in -whom the city had confidence, could easily draw many votes to himself. -But "wait," he said to himself, "it's not yet time." He had been -approached only by Pease, who inquired: "Have you any street-railway -stock?" but when Mather replied he had, Pease merely begged him not to -sell, and said no more. Yet there had been that in Pease's manner which -meant much. - -Mather and Judith were far apart in these days; he sighed as he thought -of the distance between them, and turned more willingly to the -distractions which politics and business offered. He would have been -glad to have his opportunities closer at hand, that he might throw -himself into the work. Judith, on the other hand, shrank when first her -future came suddenly near. - -Her father came home late one afternoon; going to greet him, she had -found him in the library, unwrapping a parcel. The Colonel, obeying his -impulse toward extravagance, had picked up down town a--wait till she -saw it! - -"It's very much tied up," said Judith. - -"It's rather a valuable thing," answered her father, struggling with the -string. "If only I had it out here, I'd cut this twine." - -"Is it a pair of scissors?" she asked. "Slip the string over the end, -sir." - -The Colonel displayed it at last, a Japanese dagger. Its hilt and sheath -were massive ivory, yellow with age, carved deeply with grotesques of -men in combat. A grinning mask formed the pommel, a writhing dragon the -guard; the warriors were grappling, hand to hand. The Colonel offered -the knife to Judith. "Look at it," he said with pride. - -Something made Judith draw back. "I--it's been used." - -The Colonel was irritated. "Upon my word, Judith, I should think you -were Beth. Of course it's been used; you can see that on the blade. -Look!" - -He drew it from the sheath. The blade was of the usual stout Japanese -model, with a quick edge which much whetting had made very fine. An -injury had marred the symmetry of the weapon: it was evident that an -eighth of an inch had been broken from the point, which, ground again as -sharp as ever, had lost in beauty but gained in suggestiveness. The -Colonel touched the point. - -"On armour or on bone, do you suppose?" he asked. - -Judith had recovered herself. "You're rather grewsome, sir." - -"Hang it," he complained, sheathing the knife again. "I thought you'd -like it. But Jim will, anyway." He laid the knife on the table. - -"You're not going to keep it there?" she asked. - -"Indeed I am," he answered. "Don't look at it if you don't want to." He -started to go, then paused. "Judith, I have asked Mr. Ellis to dinner." - -She was surprised by the statement, so suddenly made and of such deep -meaning. All she could do was to repeat his words. "You have asked Mr. -Ellis to dinner?" - -"Gad!" exclaimed the poor Colonel. "Is anything wrong with you this -afternoon? You are hard to please." - -"Oh, if you asked him to please me----" she was beginning. - -"Well," he explained, "what else could I do when he more than half -suggested it? I couldn't be rude to him. I--he--we are pretty good -friends." - -But he only puzzled her the more. "You are pretty good friends?" asked -Judith, again repeating his words. - -This conduct on her part made the Colonel spring to the door, where for -an instant he stood and beat his temples. "A woman's a devil!" he -exclaimed after that interval, and stamped upstairs. - -When a man's behaviour takes this turn, or his philosophy leads him to -this conclusion, it is safe for the woman to assume that he has -something on his conscience. Judith stood startled. - -On what terms was Ellis with her father that he could force an -invitation to dinner? And his object? - -She watched Ellis during that first meal at her table. Judith had never -before seen him in evening dress, nor as yet considered him so -personally. His manners were good, his behaviour quiet; no one could -have said that he was not a fair representation of a gentleman. That he -was more he did not claim. - -"This is the first time," he said, as he went in with her to the -dining-room, "that I have dined in these togs in any house besides my -own, public dinners excepted, of course. It feels stranger than I -expected." - -"Why should it feel strange?" she asked. - -"Because I was not born or bred to it, I suppose." - -"Certainly," she remarked, "you show nothing of what you feel." - -"When I was a boy," he answered, "when I lost by being too eager on my -first trade, I learned never again to show what I felt--unless it's my -purpose to. To be quiet and steady, looking and not speaking--you can't -imagine what that has done for me." - -This frankness of his, which she felt was vouchsafed to her alone, was -one secret of his success with Judith. She was interested to hear him -acknowledge himself a learner; she sympathised with his effort to make -himself fit to sit at any table; and she was impressed by his study of -manners as earlier he had studied men and markets. She recognised the -full power of his determination and his self-control. But also she felt -that unmistakably she knew his object. And her father, in manner almost -deferential to Ellis, consciously or not was his ally. - -Ellis made no approach to the subject which was most on his mind, though -through the evening he sat alone with her in the parlour. He spoke, as -he always did, of his affairs. Moreover, he went away early. But Judith, -when he had gone, gazed at the door which had closed behind him. He was -aiming at her! All that determination, all that formidable self-control, -were trained upon one object: herself. Then she must look forward, and -decide. - -Did she wish to marry Ellis? She found no reply as she tried to read -herself; instead, her mind was confused by a lesser question: why should -her father be so friendly to him? - -It would not be fair to Judith to say that she enjoyed the sensation -created by her intimacy with Ellis; nevertheless she found piquancy in -the little thrills of horror which she caused in her circle. For she -knew herself to be honestly interested by Ellis's Napoleonic force, and -could retaliate upon her clique by amusement at its littleness. She -looked at Ellis with clear eyes, perceiving little flaws which his great -powers could condone. Yet at the same time she understood her friends' -sincerity in their reprobation of him, and forgave them because they -knew no better. - -She was perfectly aware that her father had no greater caliber than that -general to his class; without the slightest filial disrespect, she knew -that the Colonel was not capable of her interest in Ellis as a type and -as a force. She would not have resented opposition from her father half -so much as she had been puzzled at his acquiescence in Ellis's visits; -nor would she have been surprised by a sudden paternal outburst so much -as by to-night's encouragement. And understanding him so well, she -began to suspect that his motives were different from her own, were -lower, and that his interest might be personal. Such a suspicion of her -father was quite enough to make her suspect herself. - -Three impulses rose within her, and battled together. The first was the -old ambition, drawing her to Ellis; the second was refinement, thrusting -her away from him. The third was maidenhood, which in Beth was modest -but in Judith militant, impelling her to the decision to marry nobody at -all. And just now this was strongest. - -Nevertheless, Judith recognised the need of a weapon or at least a -shield against the assaults which were bound to come. She was not so -sure of herself that she dared depend on her own powers alone. Therefore -she needed a barrier behind which to retire at need, and she saw but -one. Friends could not shield her: she had too few; and pride stood -between herself and Mather. Her father would evidently be no protection. -Even with Beth her understanding was too slight to be put to use. -Employment alone would help her, and of all employments only one -attracted her. Yet for that she could be preparing herself. - -With bent head she went into the sitting-room where were her father and -Beth; they put down their books as she entered, and from the table the -Colonel took up the Japanese knife. - -"Beth doesn't like this much more than you do," he said. - -"It's sinister," explained Beth. "All its beauty conceals a threat; its -only purpose is to bring death." - -"In the past, in the past!" protested her father. "It's only an ornament -now." - -"Perfectly horrid!" This from Beth, but Judith said: "It must have cost -a good deal." - -"Oh, well----" the Colonel responded, waving away the subject. - -"Father," said Judith abruptly, "I want a hundred dollars." - -"A hundred dollars!" he cried. "Where is a hundred dollars to come from -in a jiffy?" - -"Beth and I dislike the knife so," she suggested. "You might get the -dealer to take it back." - -Experienced women know how unwilling men are to return boughten -articles. "I didn't get it on trial, like a wash-wringer," retorted the -Colonel. "What do you want your hundred dollars for?" - -"A typewriter." - -"A typewriter!" he exclaimed, and Beth echoed the word. - -Judith made no explanation. "Why, that's quite out of the usual line of -expenditure," objected the Colonel. "It's an extravagance." - -"A Japanese dagger might be called an extravagance," Judith returned. - -"Then," answered her father, "so might those furs you bought the other -day. I told you your old set was good enough." - -"If I return the furs," she asked, "will you return the dagger?" - -"No, by Jove!" he cried. "It's for me to decide what I will do with my -own. I'm the provider." - -"And you provide very well," she returned sweetly. - -He looked at her with suspicion which sprang from remembrance of his -methods as provider, but since she seemed to have no hidden meaning he -returned to his reading. Judith, still sweetly, bade them good-night. - -But the next day she started from the house dressed in all the glory of -her latest possessions. "Judith," asked Beth, "you aren't going to wear -those furs in the morning?" - -"Say good-by to them," answered her sister. - -"Judith!" gasped Beth. But Judith only smiled serenely and left the -house. By the assurance in bargaining which always carries its point, -and which is distinctly feminine, she got for her furs exactly what she -gave for them. That afternoon a typewriter was delivered at the house. - -It was Mather who had helped her to buy it, Mather who, happening into -the store while she was there, had told her that the increase of his -business was forcing him to employ more stenographers. So he, even by -the most material of standards, was coming on. In order to forget him, -she was forced to think of Ellis, and to repeat such aphorisms as Anyone -can be a Gentleman, It takes Genius to be a Man. But after she had -thought of Ellis for a little while, again came the revulsion. - -Judith, when in her chamber she first removed the cover of her -typewriter, stood for a long while gazing at its black enamel and its -nickeled keys. The machine became a symbol, a warning of fate, and -though in the coming days she practised its use almost eagerly, the -typewriter never lost its significance. It was but a feeble defense -against the victor of the two rivals. - -Victor? The word was bitter. It came always with the force of a blow, -staggering her amazonian spirit: must she yield in the end? Bitter, -indeed, that while she rebelled against her womanhood she was forced to -recognise and dread it. Temporise or struggle as she might, she felt -that there lay before her an inevitable choice. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - -"PUT MONEY IN THY PURSE" - - -While Judith Blanchard, as if defying fate, held her head higher than -before, there grew on one of our characters, namely Jim Wayne, the habit -of looking at the ground. Jim was one of those who, having a weak little -conscience, cannot be wicked with an air. - -And yet Mrs. Harmon, if she saw any change in him, thought it was for -the better. Into her eyes, at least, he looked freely; his glance was -more ardent, and only when she spoke of Beth did he glower and look -away. In their conversations, therefore, Beth was no longer mentioned. -Nor did he ever speak to Beth of his intimacy with Mrs. Harmon. - -Thus Beth was surprised one day when, meeting Mrs. Wayne, the elder lady -asked: "Wasn't it pleasant to see Jim last night?" - -"Jim?" asked Beth. "Was he in town?" - -"He came to the house for just one minute. I supposed he was hurrying to -see you. Ah, Beth, we mothers!" And Mrs. Wayne sighed. - -"But he didn't come to see me," said Beth. "It must have been business -that brought him. I'll ask George." - -Mather said he had seen Jim, but only by accident, when, returning from -the theater, Wayne had passed him, apparently hurrying for the late -train. - -"In town all the evening and didn't come to see me?" thought Beth. The -idea troubled her so much that Mather perceived it. - -Yet no outsider understood the situation quite so clearly as Ellis, who -had been before Jim at the Harmons' that evening, and left soon after he -came. "I'm going to the Blanchards'," he said. "Shall I tell them to -expect you, Mr. Wayne?" - -Jim was so unskilled in finesse that he said he was going to take the -early train. Ellis smiled. - -"You shan't tease him!" declared Mrs. Harmon, putting her hand on Jim's -sleeve. At which childishness the smile on Ellis's face became broad, -and he went away. Returning after a couple of hours, he was in time to -see Jim leave the house hastily, on his way to the station. A woman's -silhouette showed on the glass of the vestibule door, and Ellis tried a -trick. He ran quickly up the steps and knocked on the door. It was -opened immediately. - -"Back again?" asked Mrs. Harmon eagerly. "Oh, it's only you, Stephen!" - -"Only me," and he turned to go, but she seized him. - -"Why did you do that?" she demanded, and then not waiting for an answer -asked: "You didn't tell the Blanchards he was here?" - -"Not I," he replied. "Lydia, why do you hold me so?" - -"Why did you startle me so?" she retorted. "But go along with you!" So -he went, having by his manoeuver found out enough. - -It was not wholly interest in his house, therefore, which took Ellis to -Chebasset before many days. He went to the office of the mill, and as he -stood before the chimney and looked up at it he mused that, -metaphorically speaking, it would not take much prying at its -foundations to make it fall: Wayne was a weak prop to such a structure. -He opened the office door. Jim, from bending over Miss Jenks as she sat -at her desk, rose up and stared at him. And the little pale stenographer -grew pink. - -"People usually knock," Jim was beginning. "--Oh, Mr. Ellis!" - -"Down for the afternoon," said Ellis. "I hate to lunch alone at this -hotel. Won't you come with me?" - -"Why, I----" hesitated Jim. - -"Going up on the hill afterward to see my house," added Ellis. "I won't -keep you long." - -"You're very good," decided Jim. "Yes, I'll come." - -"Of course it's wretched stuff they give us here," remarked Ellis when -they were seated at the hotel. "Will you take water, or risk the wine?" - -"The wine's not so bad," said Jim. He was pleased at his invitation, but -even deference to one so rich could not subdue his pride in special -knowledge. "I don't know how it happens, but they have some very decent -Medoc." - -"Then we'll try it," and Ellis ordered a bottle. He began to feel sure -of his estimate of a young man who took wine when alone in the country. -Bad blood will show; Ellis recalled his experience with Jim's father. - -For although the promoter had once met Mather's father and come off -second-best, with the elder Wayne he had been easily master. Ellis had -bought up most of Wayne's outstanding notes by the time alcohol removed -from society one who so well adorned it; the sale of the house had been -merely a return of I. O. U.'s. In just the same way Ellis was providing -against Blanchard's collapse, and now was watching Jim as the wine -worked on him. - -"A hole, a hole!" cried Jim, and the wave of his third glass included -all Chebasset. "If it weren't for a little girl, Mr. Ellis----!" Jim -gulped down more wine, and Ellis ordered a second bottle. - -"That little girl," he asked, "whom I saw at the office?" - -"She?" cried Jim loftily. "All very well to have fun with in this place, -but a fellow of my standing looks forward to something better than that. -Don't pretend ignorance, Mr. Ellis. You're learning what's worth having, -even if you didn't know it when first you came to Stirling." - -"I know very little about women," returned Ellis steadily. - -"Gad," cried Jim, "you've chosen pretty well, then." - -"At least," was the reply, and Ellis sighed as if regretfully, "I can't -keep three going at once." - -Jim laughed. "You don't regret it, I know well enough. You've got too -many other things to think of. I have to do it, to make life -interesting." - -Such a cub as this, it was plain, deserved no mercy. "You won't succeed -in one quarter, at least," Ellis answered. - -"Where, then?" demanded Jim. - -Ellis took his first sip of wine. "At a certain lady's where we have -met." - -Jim resorted to pantomime. He reached for the bottle and filled his -glass; this he held up to the light, and squinted through it; then with -deliberation he drank off the wine, and reached for the fresh bottle. -After filling, he looked at Ellis. All this he did with an air of very, -very evident amusement, and at the end he chuckled. - -"For the reason," continued Ellis, quite unmoved, "that you haven't the -cash." He took his second sip, but Jim laughed outright. - -Then the youth became grave. "Money," he said emphatically, "is all very -well in its place. But though you've made your way by it, sir, you -overestimate it. Why, that Mrs. Harmon would take----" Suddenly Jim grew -red in the face. "You insult her, sir!" - -"Good," remarked Ellis, very coldly. "The waiter is out of the room; -recollect yourself when he returns. Recollect also that Mrs. Harmon is a -very old friend of mine." - -"But," stammered Jim, somewhat abashed, "when you say that she would -sell herself----" - -"You were drinking before you came here," said Ellis, "or you wouldn't -take such ideas so easily." He removed the bottle from Jim's elbow, -then, as if on second thought, he put it back again. "This is a lonely -place, Mr. Wayne; I don't wonder that you take a cock-tail occasionally -in the morning. But just remember that it may prevent you from seeing a -man's meaning." - -"I thought----" began Jim, but Ellis cut him short. - -"I know; but never mind. I meant, my dear man, a libel on the sex, -perhaps, but not on the individual. They're fond of finery, that's all. -And you haven't the money to give it." He looked at Jim with a smile. - -"You can't give it to her!" cried Jim. But the exclamation was almost a -question. - -"To some women you can't--perhaps. But I've never met the kind. And do -you suppose the Judge knows what comes into the house?" - -"Gad!" murmured Jim. - -"A weakness of the sex," resumed Ellis. "Just remember that. Women are -softer than we; we've got to humour them. There's no harm in it; a pearl -pin now and then--something good, oh, you need something pretty good, or -nothing at all." - -"Then I'll go on the nothing-at-all system," said Jim with gloom. - -"Rot!" answered Ellis. "Do you save so carefully?" - -"Save!" exclaimed Jim. "Do you suppose I can save?" - -"I forgot," and Ellis spoke apologetically. "Of course, with your -salary. But there'll be a good time some day, Mr. Wayne." - -"When I'm old," grumbled Jim. - -"Gad!" cried Ellis, "with your ability and your youth, I'd be some -thousands richer every year!" - -"I know," answered the lamb, trying to look as wolfish as he should. -"But a fellow can do nothing nowadays without capital." - -"But you have something?" - -"Some few thousands," replied Jim with deep scorn of fate. "And in my -mother's name." - -"Your mother is conservative?" asked Ellis. - -"Scared," answered Jim. - -"And all you learned on the market," said Ellis with sympathy, "going -here to waste! Too bad! Get some one to back you." - -Jim looked at him sidewise. "Will you do it?" - -But Ellis smiled. "Why should I? No; stand on your own feet. Get your -mother's power of attorney, and surprise her some day by doubling her -income. But as for that, doesn't money pass through your hands down here -every week." - -"Passes through quickly," answered Wayne. "Comes down Saturday morning, -and I pay the men at noon." - -"Pay every week?" Ellis inquired. "Every fortnight is what I believe in. -But of course--and yet three days, with clever placing, would be enough -to make you double that money. Three weeks, and you could--do -anything!" - -"By Jove!" cried Jim, starting. - -"I'll be off," said Ellis, pushing back his chair. "This lunch was -better than I expected. We must meet here again, some day." - -"Good!" answered Jim. He finished his last glass, but as he rose he was -as steady as if he carried nothing. "For all that," muttered Ellis to -himself, "your brain is softer than half an hour ago." They separated at -the door of the hotel, and went their respective ways. - -When Ellis, after inspecting his house, stood on the terrace and looked -down upon Chebasset, he still had Jim on his mind. Would the ideas work? -Did he still taste that wine in his mouth, or his own words? Small! and -Ellis spat. Small, but well done, as the event was to prove. And yet -Ellis had neither heard nor read of Mephisto and the student, of Iago -and Roderigo. - - - - -CHAPTER XX - -THE POWER OF SUGGESTION - - -It is wearing when one's wishes travel faster than events, and have to -wait for time to catch up. Mrs. Harmon felt it so. "The days go too -slow," she declared to Ellis, a week after his visit to Chebasset. - -"Not at all," he answered. "I think they go about right." - -"You're like a cat," she said impatiently. "I watched one hunting a bird -once, and it took forever to make its spring." - -"But it caught the bird. Then wasn't the time well spent, Lydia?" - -"I'm not so cold-blooded," she replied. "I can't be deliberate. I must -have something going on." - -"Therefore you listen for the door-bell," remarked he. "Lydia, he can't -come up to-night." - -"Stephen!" she cried as if indignantly--yet she began to smile. - -"Mather keeps fair track of him," said Ellis. - -"I hate Mr. Mather!" declared the lady with energy. - -"What's the use?" inquired the gentleman calmly. - -"Upon my word, Stephen," exclaimed Mrs. Harmon, "if any one in this town -ought to hate him, it's you. He's the one man who stands between you -and--and everything you want." - -Ellis smiled. "People say so?" - -"It's true!" she insisted. "What are your friends in politics most -afraid of? That he will go in against them! Who can make the best stand -against your mayor? Mather, of course! With him as mayor--what then, -Stephen?" - -"All talk," he answered, still smiling. - -"Very well," she retorted. "But if ever it comes to Mather at city hall, -Doddridge as district attorney, and my husband on the bench, some people -will leave town hurriedly." - -"You mean me?" he asked indifferently. - -"Of course not," she answered. "But don't laugh, Stephen; there's really -something in all this. And in other matters, too. The Judge has sold his -street-railroad stock." - -Ellis roused at once. "He has? To whom?" - -"Mr. Pease." - -"Well," and the promoter relaxed again. "I am glad that the Judge is out -of it, even if Pease is deeper in." - -"Abiel kept back five shares," said the Judge's worthy wife, "and when -next it comes to a stockholders' meeting, he'll be there. I can't do -anything with him; you know that well enough. All I can do is to tell -you what he tells me. Stephen," and her voice became persuasive, "why -not take notice of complaints?" - -"You mean transfers?" he inquired. - -"Yes, and better service: more cars at the rush hours, and more -attention to the suburbs." - -"Higher wages to the men, too, I suppose?" he asked. - -"You don't want a strike?" she cried. - -"Now stop worrying!" he commanded. "You hear the Judge at the breakfast -table, and never see my side. Who does he say are against me--Pease, -Fenno, Branderson--all their kind?" - -She nodded. "Yes, every one of them." - -"Well," he said, "if I have a majority of stock--either mine or -belonging to men who belong to me--all the rich swells in the State -can't touch me. Lydia, Mather made this street railroad for me; he -didn't know he was doing it, but he did it, and when I wanted it I took -it. It's the best thing I've struck yet, and I'm not going to let it go. -Nor the profits, either. Transfers and extra cars? I tell you the -public's got to ride, and ride in what I allow 'em." - -"Very well," she replied. "You usually know what you're about. But the -papers----" - -"Rot, rot, rot!" he interrupted. "You hear so much of this Mather talk -that you believe it. Do you read the _Newsman_?" - -"Abiel won't have it in the house." - -"Buy a copy once in a while, when you feel blue. You'll see that -Mather's a man of straw." - -"Does Judith Blanchard think him so?" - -He turned upon her. "Doesn't she?" - -"I don't know what she thinks," she confessed. - -"Then," he advised, softening his frown, "wait and watch. I tell you -it's going all right." - -She wondered that he felt so sure, but she subsided; then other thoughts -came into her mind. "Stephen," she asked, "are you doing much now--on -the market, I mean?" - -"Always doing a lot," he replied. - -"What's safest and surest?" - -"Government bonds," he answered with a smile. - -"No, no," she said. "I mean surest to go up and do something quickly." - -"Lydia," he responded, "if young Wayne wants to know anything from me, -let him ask me himself." - -"Oh!" she cried, pouting, "how quick you are! Well, I did ask for Jim." -There was just a little hesitation as she spoke the name. "But he gets -so little chance to see you. Come, tell me something; give me a tip, -there's a good fellow." - -"I calculated once," he replied, "that if I told every one who asked, -there would be just twice my capital in the market, after the things I -want. No, Lydia, let every man stand on his own feet; I do my hunting -alone." - -"Stephen!" she coaxed. "Stephen! Oh, you obstinate thing! At least tell -me what you're buying." - -"If you want to help young Wayne, don't ask that. I look long ways -ahead; sometimes I buy to hold, but he can't. I'm not afraid of a drop; -he is. Let him work out his get-rich-quick scheme by himself, and he'll -be better off than if I helped him." - -"At least tell me what you think of Poulton?" But he was obdurate. -"Stephen, I'll never ask you a favour again!" - -"With that pin at your throat you don't need to," he replied. "Lydia, I -never gave you that." - -"I have a husband," and she affected indignation. "How can you -insinuate--oh, Stephen, you see too much. Well, what do you think of -it?" - -"I think," he responded with deliberation, "that I've not seen Miss Beth -Blanchard wearing any new jewelry lately. Aren't you unkind?" - -"No!" she pouted again. "I am his mother confessor." Which appeared so -humorous to them both that they laughed; and then, feeling that they had -been skating on rather thin ice, they left the subject. Only--Mrs. -Harmon wished she knew why Ellis was so sure of Judith. - -Had she seen what Mather saw she might have guessed what Mather guessed. -Ellis lunching with the Colonel down town, at an out-of-the-way place, -to be sure, but lunching with him openly--that meant a good deal. It -was a French restaurant to which Mather went at times for the sake of -its specialties, but when from the door, one day, he saw the Colonel and -Ellis at one of the tables, he went away again; yet had been seen. - -"He saw us," said Ellis. "And if he saw us, others will. What was the -use of insisting on such a meeting-place, Colonel?" - -The Colonel was annoyed, confoundedly so. - -"All very well," returned Ellis. "But our business is not secret, any -more than the transactions which go on in the open street. Come, Colonel -Blanchard, don't you think it's time for a different line of procedure?" - -The Colonel apprehensively asked his meaning. - -"I'll tell you," answered Ellis. "Don't think me rude, sir, if I speak -freely. All I've been thinking is that if I'm a business acquaintance -merely, keep me as such. But if I'm a little more, if I'm to come to -your house and your table, let us meet a little more openly--at the -Exchange Club, let us say. And if I dine at your house again, let's -have," the Colonel's head was bowed, and Ellis therefore spoke boldly, -"other people there." - -The Colonel marked with his knife upon the cloth. Three times five -thousand, without security, meant that Ellis had passed beyond the stage -of business acquaintanceship. Well, never mind; Judith encouraged the -man, so where was the harm? The whole thing was the most natural in the -world. - -"Why, Mr. Ellis," he said, looking up, "I like this little place to eat -in; it reminds me of Paris, you know. I hadn't thought we would seem to -be dodging people." ("Lies better than Wayne," thought Ellis.) "The -Exchange Club, of course, if you wish it; it's more convenient, anyway." - -But Ellis's reminder, before they parted, the Colonel took hard. "And -perhaps we can have a little dinner-party soon, Colonel?" - -"Yes," answered the Colonel. "Yes, yes." He was as near snappish as he -dared to be, vindicating his military character. Only the recollection -of his daughter's wishes kept him from being rude, downright rude. Thus -the Colonel to himself, as he went homeward alone. Yet, instead of -informing Judith that she was privileged to give a dinner-party, he was -much too absorbed to vouchsafe her any account of where he had been. -"Don't bother me," was his gentle reply when she asked if he had seen -any one down town. - -"Father!" cried Judith, really hurt. - -"But I heard this," said her father, stopping at the door of his study, -and giving his piece of news with an unction for which only the passions -of the natural man can account. "They say a street-railway strike is -coming surely, unless Mr. Ellis gives in." - -Judith stood with her hands behind her back, regarding her parent -cheerfully. "Oh, well!" she said lightly. - -"You don't believe it?" demanded the Colonel. - -"Strikes never come as often as they are threatened," she replied. - -"But this time the stockholders may have something to say." - -"They need more votes for that," she answered. - -The Colonel looked her over. "Ellis has been telling her what to think," -he concluded. For a moment he entertained the impulse to propose the -dinner-party, but Ellis's virtual ordering of him rankled. He went into -his study. - -Mather, on his part, took his lunch at another restaurant and then went -down to Chebasset. He felt somewhat depressed; life was not pleasant, -not with the sight of Ellis and the Colonel before his mental vision, -nor with the task he had to do. For the returns from the mill were -entirely inadequate, and Jim must be spoken to. Lecturing a sulky boy -promised to be unpleasant; besides, Jim would report it to Beth. Mather -would have given a good deal to put the matter off, if only for a day. - -But Jim was not at the mill. "He has gone to Stirling, Miss Jenks?" - -"Yes, sir, to the city. He had a telephone message from----" Miss Jenks -hesitated and stammered. - -"Miss Blanchard? Oh, of course." And Mather, amused at the modesty of -the little stenographer, sat down at Jim's desk, which had once been his -own. "The daily reports, if you please, Miss Jenks." While she went for -them, he stared idly at the decorations by whose means Jim had sought to -domesticate himself at the mill: dance cards, an invitation, and -photographs of Beth, Jim's mother, and Mrs. Harmon. Mather frowned at -the presence of the last, in such company. - -Armed with the daily reports, Mather went into the mill, and certain of -the men, at certain of the machines, heard words which were far from -pleasing. The words were not many, and were delivered quietly, but -backed by telling figures from the returns they were unanswerable. It -was a slight relief that so many men were visited in Mather's round, for -company made the misery a bit lighter, but the foreman trembled for his -turn. He took it in the office, alone with Mather and Miss Jenks. That -during the summer and fall so many pounds daily had been turned out, and -in the winter so many less, was laid before him. The foreman could -suggest only one excuse. - -"Mr. Wayne, sir. The men--some of them don't like him, and some laugh at -him." - -"You attend to your men, Waller, and Mr. Wayne and I will do our part. -Understand, I put the mill in your hands now; Mr. Wayne will attend -strictly to the office. If you bring the men up to the old mark, ten -dollars more for you in the month. If you don't----" And the manager -waved his hand. Waller, between fear and hope, withdrew to the safe side -of the door, and mopped his brow. - -Mather also wiped his forehead; he was glad, after all, that Jim had not -been there; he would try running the mill on this system, and Beth for a -while, perhaps for good, could be spared unhappiness. - -But when, after writing Jim a letter detailing the proposed change, he -rose from his chair, he found a workman standing by his side. The man, -with some appearance of unhappiness, touched his forelock. "Beg pardon, -sir, but the missis is sick." - -"Your wife? I'm sorry. I suppose you've come for an advance of money." - -"No, sir!" and the man showed pride. "I can get along, Mr. Mather, on my -regular pay." - -"Then what can I do for you?" - -"It's this new regulation, sir--fortnightly pay." - -"Fortnightly pay!" echoed Mather. - -"Yes, sir. It'll be all right usually, Mr. Mather, and none of the men -cares much." - -There was a tightness in the manager's brain; he put up his hand and -stroked his lip. "Let me see, when did the new system begin?" - -"Last week, sir. And as I say, I wouldn't care, sir, but just now it -comes so hard that I'm askin'--just as a favour, Mr. Mather--to be paid -weekly till the missis is well." - -"So!" said Mather, recovering himself. - -"I hope it's not too much to ask, sir?" - -"No, no," and the manager turned to the safe. - -What was he to find--an empty cash drawer? His hand trembled as he swung -open the heavy door; he thought of little Beth. If Jim had been so weak, -so ungrateful--it was all right! There lay the rolls of bills! - -But not the same; the envelopes had been opened, the money mussed and -then crammed hastily back into the drawer again. Moreover, these were -not the fresh, crisp bills which Pease took pride in sending weekly to -the mill. Mather took the whole drawer to the desk and paid the workman. -"Make a note, Miss Jenks, that Swinton is to be paid weekly so long as -his wife is ill." The man, thankful, departed; but Mather sat over the -cash drawer, sorting the money and counting it. There were many bills of -the high denominations which never came to the mill, since they would be -of little use in paying the men. But it was all there, every cent. What -was the meaning of it? And now it was Miss Jenks who stood at Mather's -side, waiting to speak. He thrust the money again into the drawer. - -"Miss Jenks?" As she did not speak at once he looked at her face, and -asked hastily: "Is anything wrong?" - -"I've--I've got to leave here, Mr. Mather." - -He rose and put the cash drawer in its place; then he went back to her. -"This is very astonishing. Why?" - -"I must," was all she would say. - -"Is it wages? Hours? Are you overworked?" To each question she shook her -head. "I consider you very valuable to us. I have thought of asking you -to come to the city office." - -She looked up at him eagerly. "Oh, let me come!" - -"Then there is some friction here?" - -She looked down, blushing. "No friction." - -"One question only, Miss Jenks. Is it Mr. Wayne?" - -She nodded; Mather took his seat. Then she took a step nearer to him, -looking to see if he were angry. "Don't be put out with him. He--I--it's -nothing, Mr. Mather." - -"So I should suppose," he answered grimly. - -"Mr. Mather," she said suddenly, "when I worked for you here I got to -think of you almost as an older brother. Don't be offended." She made a -little gesture of one thin hand. "I have no mother. May I ask you if I -am doing right?" - -He was touched, and rose again. "Certainly." - -"Mr. Wayne," she began again slowly, "has been very--nice to me. I -didn't think about it; I got to like it very much. Yesterday he--kissed -me. Isn't he engaged to Miss Blanchard, sir?" - -"He is." - -"I thought so; and yet, Mr. Mather, I couldn't be offended. This -afternoon, when he went away, he came to kiss me again, and I couldn't -try to stop him. Was it shameful, sir?" - -He ground his teeth. "Of him!" - -"And he left me this." She opened the hand which she had held tight -closed, and showed a jewelled pin. - -Mather took it; it was costly, very handsome. "Well, Miss Jenks?" - -"I don't think I'm that kind of a girl, sir. And yet I'm frightened at -myself--for not being able to resist him, I mean. And so I've got to go, -sir." Up to this time she had spoken quietly, with little sign of -emotion, but now she clasped her hands together, and tears welled out on -her cheeks. "I cannot stay another day!" - -He turned away from her, and for a space strode up and down the office, -cursing silently. Then he sat and tried to think. Jim, Jim! - -"You're not offended, sir?" she asked. - -"Offended? You poor little girl, it tears at my heart to see your face -and know what you feel. You're doing just right; yes, just right. You -shall come to me in the city, to-morrow if you wish. I know an old and -homely woman who will be glad of this place." - -She shrank at the energy of his sneer. "You won't be angry with him, -sir?" - -"Not angry?" he cried, astonished. Then he said quietly, "I shall do -nothing at once. But there are other considerations as well." - -"Others?" she asked fearfully. "He isn't--going wrong, Mr. Mather?" - -"What makes you think that?" he demanded. - -"Perhaps," she said, "I'd better tell you something, if it will help you -help him. There's one man--oh, Mr. Mather, I've been so glad of the way -the papers speak of you--if you would only stand for mayor of Stirling, -sir! I dislike that Mr. Ellis. And it's he who's been here twice to see -Mr. Wayne, and telephoned him this afternoon to come to town." - -"Of course you know there's no reason he shouldn't?" - -"Only I don't like him, sir. And Mr. Wayne made something of a secret of -it, though he's been talking with me quite freely, lately. But I -couldn't help knowing, and I hope there's nothing wrong." She took a -step toward her desk. "If you've got nothing for me to do, sir, I'll go -now. To-morrow at your office, Mr. Mather?" - -"To-morrow." He sank so deep in thought that he scarcely heeded her -good-bye, and leaving the pin on Jim's desk she slipped out of the -office with her hopes, fears, thanks, trembling on her lips but yet -unexpressed. She was glad to leave the little office where she had been -so frightened of herself. And since Mather had been always kind, she -felt sure he would be kind to Wayne. - -Kind! Mather's fingers itched for Jim's collar. Perhaps he had intended -no harm with the girl, but such things went easily from bad to worse. -And what had he been doing with the money? But the only real reason for -complaint lay in the new system of fortnightly pay. Mather concluded -that he would wait till Saturday; then he would come down, see the men -paid, and have it out with Jim. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI - -ELLIS TAKES HIS LAST STEP BUT ONE - - -It was midwinter, in the full swing of social events, yet Judith had -been withdrawing herself more and more from what was going on. She -disliked people's talk; besides, her interest in mere frivolity was -growing less, fixing itself with proportionate keenness upon Ellis's -affairs. - -For Ellis came continually oftener, and at last she had begun to look -forward to his visits. More than one of his interests had been growing -complicated; he told her of them freely. Most of all, the street-railway -matter promised trouble from the threatened strike. - -On the evening of Ellis's and the Colonel's third exchange of note and -check Ellis came to see Judith; she was very ready for a talk. It -pleased and flattered him to see the flash of the eye lighting up her -beauty, the eagerness with which she led him to the familiar subject. -"Stunning!" he thought to himself. "Is she dressed up so for me?" The -handsome gown, the few but valuable jewels--and the face! "Soon!" he -said to himself confidently. Meanwhile, step by step! - -He had planned the next one carefully, spending on it more thought than -on many of his great strokes in politics or business. She was more on -his mind than ever, partly because, as a woman, she was a strange -problem to him; partly, however, because his interest in her was growing -steadily deeper, and to win her was becoming constantly of greater -moment. The unnamed emotion still increasing in him, he explained it by -the fact that it was impossible for him to be contented as he once was, -in the days when he drove without rest at his politics or business, -having nothing to look forward to at the day's end, and with only the -dull set of common-minded men as his companions. How far finer was -Judith than they! Though he still feared her idealism, it gave him a -sense of the worth of beauty and refinement. And that other faculty in -her, to appreciate his material achievements, was not only a stimulus -which he felt had become indispensable, but was also the susceptibility -by which he hoped to win her. Aiming all his powers at that weakness, -and looking back on the occasion when the mere sight of Mather was -enough to capture Judith's attention from him, Ellis planned so to raise -her interest in himself that it would permit of no interruption. - -He told her of the threatened strike. The demands of the men were not -serious; it would not be a great drain on his pocket to grant the -increase in wages. The free transfers would be troublesome; the extra -service in rush hours a bother: nevertheless, all this could be -undertaken, and would be, if it were not for the principle involved. And -in order that he might know how to decide, he needed her help. - -"My help!" cried Judith. - -"Perhaps," he said, smiling at her interest, "you don't realise that I -consult you, Miss Blanchard. But all these things I speak to you about -have more or less dependence on the state of public feelings. Do you -know that I have come to consider you as a kind of barometer of that?" - -"Me?" she cried again, much pleased. - -"You read the papers, and digest the news. You see people and talk -things over. You're rather above ordinary business, naturally, and so, -looking down on its workings, it seems to me as if you see _into_ it. Do -you understand? You see clearer than the men themselves who are in the -midst of it." - -"I never supposed that," she said. "I never dreamed of it!" - -"You have a habit of looking forward, too," he went on. "That's what I -like, what I need. I get confused myself, sometimes; I can't see the -battle for the smoke. My own strategy is often doubtful to me. Then I -turn to you." - -"You overrate me," she exclaimed. - -"Not I," he answered. "You aren't offended if I speak so frankly? For I -wouldn't make use of you unless you are quite willing." - -"Certainly I am willing to help," she said. - -"Thank you," he replied. "Now it's this way, Miss Blanchard. I'm not -working only for the present, as I think you know. I'm looking rather -farther forward than most people. Besides, I'm mixed up in many matters. -Finally I'm rather alone. Politics, the railway, the cotton corporation, -half a dozen things I carry almost by myself; I'm the chief, anyway; I -haven't even a partner to consult. I have to watch my own lieutenants to -see they do things right, good workers as they are. It's brains I need -to help me--reliable scouts and clear-headed advisers." - -"I can't be an adviser," said Judith, "but I could scout, perhaps. Will -you let me?" - -"I want you for both," he returned. "You can advise, and you do. I want -some scouting just now, and advice after it, by somebody absolutely -impartial. Somebody who wouldn't hesitate to set me right if she saw -that I was wrong." - -"Tell me!" begged Judith. - -"I have my preconceived notions," he said. "Let me explain them to you, -so that you can understand the line I'm working on. This isn't capital -versus labour, Miss Blanchard; it isn't even the corporation against the -public--not as I look at it. No, it's the present against the future. I -could do the things the public wants; certainly I could. But that's not -the point. The question is, do they know what's best for themselves? -That's for you and me to decide!" - -He had been leaning forward, speaking with emphasis; now as he finished -he sat again upright, but the flash of his eye kindled an answering fire -in hers. "For you and me!" she repeated. - -He leaned forward again, holding her glance with his. "The people," he -said, "think they know what they want. But the best of them are very -shortsighted, even the educated men. Your friends are beginning to join -the cry against me; I won't deny it sounds mighty reasonable: Better -hours and pay for the men; better service for the people. Well, do you -or I suppose that's all there is in it?" - -She drew in her breath; how much more he saw, and knew, than others! - -"Let's go back," he said. "I'm in politics, indirectly. I'm blamed for -it. Fellows, good fellows I've known for years, are looked down on and -called Ellis's men, just because they see things as I do. All very well -for men who sit back with white gloves on their hands and say that -politics aren't clean. Come now, I'll acknowledge it to you, Miss -Blanchard, politics are not clean. I've seen things done that--well, -never mind. I believe corruption has been in the world since the first -of time; I think it's in a certain grade of human nature. You can't get -it out. But there's less of it than is supposed; and on my word, Miss -Blanchard, none of it can be laid to me!" - -Again she drew a breath, and still meeting his eye, she nodded her -agreement. - -"If one of those fellows, in the city government through no act of mine, -votes for my measures, shall I pay him not to? There are few enough of -them. Well, we understand that, but people might ask me why I'm in -politics at all. Miss Blanchard, I point to what I've done. And to what -I'm doing! Sometimes it hurts me that people misunderstand me; mostly I -laugh. But I want you to know, as I guess you do anyway. I'm building -this city for the future." - -Again he drew away and made the impressive pause, but in a moment he was -once more at the charge. "The water-works affair, look at that! People -cry 'Steal! Boodle!' But do they know what I'm doing? Do they know what -I'm saving them from? Miss Blanchard, you know, if they don't, that this -city is at a turning point in its development. We're just growing from a -small city into a big one. Then it's the part of the men with brains to -prepare for the change. Look at Boston, look at New York: see how -they're struggling with their water problems, their lighting problems, -above all with their transportation problems--and why?" He snapped out -the question abruptly, then answered it himself. "Because they didn't -look forward and prepare! But that's just what I propose to do for -Stirling!" - -She was quite his own now, listening as if fascinated. Her bright eye -was fixed on his, confusing him slightly, yet it gave encouragement. His -confidence increased, and after a moment he began again with more -energy. - -"Look at the water-works--they're vast! I've condemned a whole valley -out Grantham way; the reservoirs we're making are much too large for -the city. But in ten years, what then? Still too large, I'll grant. Yet -when Stirling is twice its present size, _then_ the reservoir and park -system, for I'm combining them, will have been got so cheaply that this -city will be richer than any other. Water system installed, lighting -problems solved, all land necessary for municipal purposes bought and -paid for _now_. The next generation, Miss Blanchard, will have reason to -praise us. Isn't that plain? And I mean to do the same with the -transportation system." - -"Go on!" she begged him as he paused. - -"It's somewhat different in this case," he said. "The water-works are -being made with public money, the parks also. But the street-railway is -a corporation, and although I control it, there are stockholders to -consider, and a great big public to keep in good temper while at the -same time I am working for the future. There's a problem, Miss -Blanchard--to pay dividends, put on extra cars, and raise wages, while -I'm buying land for future stations, barns, and terminals, and while I'm -even thinking of the construction of a subway." - -"A subway!" she cried. - -"Yes," he answered, "don't you see the advantage of it?" - -"Indeed I do," exclaimed Judith. "Our streets are very crowded now, down -town, and the cars make such blocks! But a subway! Wouldn't it be -terribly expensive?" - -"Looked at in a broad way, no," he answered. "To condemn and take the -necessary real estate will cost nothing now to what it will ten years -hence. And can you doubt that it will be needed then? Then why not set -about it now? Why not ask the public to incommode itself for a while, to -gain a permanent benefit? What they ask is only temporary; if we let -things slip along from year to year, patching up and patching on, we'll -never be better off. There was a man hired a place; in fifteen years of -rent he paid the whole value of it and yet didn't own it. Better to have -mortgaged and bought, in the first place. That's what I propose to do -here." - -"I understand," she said. - -"I acknowledge," he went on, "that I appoint myself to do these things. -Officious, isn't it? And I'm selfish about it. I want to do it my own -way, and I want to have the credit of doing it. Oh, it's a job, it's a -task!" As if carried away by enthusiasm, he rose and stood before her. -"I tell you, Miss Blanchard," he cried, "I am just beginning the hardest -fight of my life! But I like work, I enjoy a fight, and with the help of -my friends (and you're the chief of them) I shall put it through!" - -He took three steps away from her, and she watched him, not feeling her -throbbing heart and quickened breath. As he turned again, she asked him -how he meant to go about the work. - -"By legislative help," he explained, coming back to his seat by her -side. "Prepare to hear a good deal against me: that I've bought the -common council and own seats in the legislature, for instance. It's long -been said that the mayor's my own--for purposes of corruption, of -course. Now you can see that my plans are too big for me to carry out by -myself, or even for the corporation to do alone. I must have public -money to help me. And besides that, more than that, I must be granted -the application of a principle which has seldom, almost never, been -allowed out of the hands of the legislature or the courts." - -"What is that?" she asked. - -He answered, "Eminent domain!" - -"To be able," she asked in astonishment, "by yourself to condemn and -take land?" - -"Yes," he answered confidently. - -"You will meet very strong opposition." - -"I expect it," he replied. "And I shall be justified in asking for the -right. I am looking to the result." - -She nodded thoughtfully. - -"Now, your part in this," he began again, and she looked up quickly, "is -to be, if you will let me say it so, my ear. The plan will be proposed -soon; I shall know what's said for it, I want to know what's said -against it. You can help me gage the quality of the opposition. Will you -do it?" - -"Willingly," she answered. "But the strike?" - -"Ah," he returned, "I wish I might ask you to help me there also. There -are two things which can assure a strike success: one is determination -in the men themselves, one is the sympathy of the public. Do you go -about enough, do you see people enough--of the middle class, I mean--to -be able to form an opinion on these two points?" - -"I can do so," she answered. - -"Thank you," he said eagerly. "One thing more--your advice! When you -have done all this, will you give me your opinion freely?" - -"If it is of any worth," she replied, "you will be welcome to it." - -The enthusiasm, he feared, had lapsed; he did his best to rouse it. "If -you range yourself against me, I shall not be surprised." - -"I? Against you!" she cried. - -"I appreciate the ties of habit and friendship," he said. "But for them -there are many who would be with me. Conservatism is a strong force, as -I know very well." - -"Do you think," she inquired, "that I cannot see the wise course when -you show it to me so clearly?" - -He concealed his gratification by a counter question. "Do you see the -struggle which is to come out of this?" - -"How much and how long will it be?" - -"It may take years," he said. "Political campaigns may turn on it. Next -fall's election, the mayoralty, may be determined by what we two, here -in this parlour, talk over by ourselves." He saw the flush which -overspread her face, the pride which came into her eyes, yet he -hesitated before the final stroke. - -"Will all that happen?" she asked eagerly. - -She opened the way for him. Dropping his eyes, he sat for a moment to -collect himself; when he looked up his face was serious. "Miss -Blanchard," he said, "there will be from all this certain results, -personal to me, which are beginning to show very clearly. Whether your -friends are going to make this a demonstration against me, or whether -they think they must act, I can't say, but we are going to come to an -open rupture." Then he looked at her with a smile which was half amused, -half deprecatory. "Do you remember that I once confessed to you my -foolish social ambition?" - -"It was not foolish!" she objected. - -"Perhaps not," he returned, "and yet--perhaps. At any rate, I had the -ambition once." - -"Do you not now?" she asked. - -"If I have," Ellis answered, "I may have to give it up. For if your -friends come out against me, and if we fight this to a finish, then it -will all amount to this: that I must choose between my career and -my--acquaintances." - -He was managing her well! He felt an unauthorised emotion, prompting -him to say words akin to those which he had heard Jim say to Beth, -but--with such inspiration as Judith's--far more strong and eager. Yet -all such feeling he beat down, and though she felt the lack, he was -succeeding with her. Coldly as he made his statements and carefully -repressed all emotion, he was still able to rouse her enthusiasm. - -"Would you hesitate?" she asked with spirit. - -"It seems easy to you," he returned steadily, "but consider. It means -that I must live a life alone. I have the American spirit, Miss -Blanchard, which urges me upward. I have seen what is better than what I -have; I am trying for it. Whatever happens, I won't go back. But the -door is shut in my face. So I stay alone outside." - -"It must not be!" she exclaimed. - -"But if it happens so?" - -"It is too unjust!" She could say nothing more, but her feelings -enlisted her on his side, and she restrained herself with difficulty. -Her generosity, her energy, showed so plainly in her glowing features -that he asked himself: "Is this the moment?" Then the rings of the -portieres rattled. - -It was the Colonel, who, having heard the earnest tones, and knowing -well how to approach Judith on an unpleasant subject, chose to come now -in order to protect himself by the presence of a third person. "Judith," -he said, standing before them, beaming benevolently, "I have just had an -idea. It was very pleasant when Mr. Ellis dined with us recently. -Suppose we ask him again, and have some others here: Mrs. Harmon, say, -for a matron, and some of our friends.--With Ellis here," the Colonel -thought, "she can't refuse." - -But he was surprised at the eagerness with which she accepted the -suggestion. Judith began at once to plan whom she should ask, and -astonished the Colonel by the names she mentioned. The Judge, the -Fennos, none of the younger people. "A formidable affair," exclaimed he, -surprised and puzzled. "Do you think that you care to attempt so much?" - -Judith turned to Ellis. "You shall see!" she said. - -"You are very kind," he answered. - -And now he was all on fire, waiting for the Colonel to go. This girl, so -cold to others, so kind to him, was wonderful. With her, what could he -not achieve? "Go, go!" he found himself muttering impatiently, as still -the Colonel stayed. Why did he not leave them to themselves? - -But it was Judith who was keeping her father, for she had seen the -shadow of the approaching crisis, and feared it as a woman may who, -having once dreamed of love, flinches at a union devoid of passion. Not -yet! So she made the Colonel talk. Ellis finally took his leave; -certainly much had been gained. Judith accompanied him to the door. - -"I shall think over all you have said," she told him. "It is wonderful, -what you have planned!" - -"And you will help me?" he asked. - -"Be sure of that," she replied. - -Yes, much had been gained, he told himself as he went away. He had -thrilled her, and if he could rouse her so easily----He struck his hands -together. There should be no more delay. - -Judith went into the sitting-room, where her father was explaining to -Beth the plans for the dinner. Judith felt that she was trembling with -the reaction from her previous excitement; as Beth's quiet eyes rested -on her it seemed as if her feelings could be read. "Don't you think it -will be pleasant, Beth?" asked the Colonel. - -"No," answered Beth firmly. "I hope it will not be done." - -Leaving her father to expostulate and argue, Judith went up-stairs to -her chamber. Beth's disapproval had the effect of a cold sponge pressed -upon her temples; she began to control herself. Never had Judith been -able to overlook Beth's opinion lightly; she expressed the feeling of -the best of their caste. What power had Ellis, Judith asked, that he -could so carry her away? She sat down to reason with herself, to measure -by line and square the structure reared by his imagination. Then she -began to glow again: how wonderful, far-reaching, philanthropic were his -plans! - -In that mood she went to bed, and had fallen into a doze when she became -aware that some one was replenishing the fire. When the bright blaze had -lighted up the ceiling, Beth, in her wrapper, came and seated herself at -Judith's side. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII - -HAROUN AL RASCHID - - -Beth saw that her sister was awake; stooping forward, she kissed her -gently. "Don't be put out with me, dear," she said, "for what I'm going -to say." - -"I will not," answered Judith. The hour, the warm bed, the firelight, -made her unusually gentle. "What is it, dear?" - -"It is that dinner," answered Beth. "I wish to make sure you -understand--what people will think of it, I mean. Excuse me, Judith; I -see it more clearly than you can, as a third person, dear." - -"Well," Judith asked, "what will people think?" - -"Two things," Beth answered. "First, that you are trying to get Mr. -Ellis into society." - -"I am willing they should think that." - -"The second is," went on Beth slowly, "that the dinner, given here at -our house, and not at Mrs. Harmon's, as perhaps you could arrange to -have it----" - -"Not with the Judge's consent," Judith interrupted. - -"Or some one else's, then," said Beth. "Given by us, anyway, people -would think the dinner would mean----" - -"Go on," directed Judith. - -"That you and Mr. Ellis are engaged." - -There was silence, in which the crackling of the fire, and the darting -of the shadows on the ceiling, were painfully noticeable to Judith. It -was true! People would think thus. - -"Well?" asked Beth at length. Judith made no answer, and Beth, bending -down, snuggled her head against her sister's throat. "I hope," she -whispered, "that you can manage to give it up." Still Judith made no -sign; Beth only made it harder. "Judith, Judith!" Beth urged, gently -pressing her with her arms. - -"I don't see," said Judith at last, speaking with difficulty, "how I can -give up the dinner." - -Beth sat up quickly. "Truly?" she demanded, with the energy of -disappointment. - -"Truly," answered Judith firmly. - -"Good-night," said Beth abruptly. She rose and went away without a kiss. -Then Judith lay for a long time awake: the line of cleavage was -beginning. The choice was hard, hard! - -But in the morning she wrote her invitations, after agreeing upon a date -with Mrs. Harmon, who leaped at the chance. Yet she showed only too -distinctly what people would think of the event. - -"Haven't you," she inquired before Judith left, "haven't you something -to tell me, Judith?" - -"Nothing," answered Judith shortly. "Good-bye." - -She wrote her notes in her father's name, puzzling first over the -wording. It would be easy to trap people into coming, and when they -arrived they could find Ellis of the party. But that seemed not to be -fair; unconventionally she inserted in each note the words, "to meet Mr. -Stephen F. Ellis." When the notes were written she took them out and -dropped them quickly into the post-box, lest her courage should fail -her. Thus it was settled! The notes were to the Fennos, the Watsons, Mr. -and Miss Pease. Twenty-four hours, and the whole town would be -discussing her. Twenty-four hours brought Saturday; in the morning Mr. -Fenno came to the house. - -He always interested her, for he meant power. Ellis, Pease, Fenno: such -was their rank in the town; but Judith felt, as she welcomed him, that -he was as a king about to abdicate, looking back on his reign with weary -eyes, and measuring by a standard of his own. He was one to whom others -were aggregations of forces--potentialities, not men. His heavy head -with its thick hair and deep eyes reminded her more than ever of an old -lion; the rumble of his voice gave force to his slightest word. - -Judith told him she would send for Beth. "No, my dear," he said, "I am -glad Beth is not here. I came to see you." With some wonder she led him -into the parlour, where Mr. Fenno handed her a note and watched her -while she read it. It was the usual short formula: "Mr. and Mrs. William -Fenno regret that they cannot accept----," etc. - -"I am sorry," said Judith as she folded up the paper. - -"That is my wife's answer," explained Mr. Fenno. "I came to give you my -own in person." But then he gazed at her in silence until she became -restive under the scrutiny. "My dear Miss Judith," he said suddenly, "I -like you very much." - -"Mr. Fenno," she returned, "you scarcely know me." - -"I have watched you a great deal," he replied. "I like your spirit, your -rebellion against the stupid life we lead. Upon my word, I don't know -what business your father has with two such daughters; he doesn't -appreciate you, I'm sure. I'll change with him and welcome.--There, -don't be offended with me. I come to beg you to be moderate. Remember -that I speak to you with the voice of generations. Not even you can -afford to disregard the wisdom of the fathers." - -"I do not wish to," she answered, puzzled. - -"My wife," he said, "would write that note and let the matter pass. But -I want to thank you, first, for so frankly putting your purpose in your -invitation. 'To meet Mr. Ellis.' We might have come, indeed we should -have come, but for that. But we can't mix with him, Miss Judith." - -"It seems to me," she returned, "that the wisdom of the fathers usually -means crystallisation, sir." - -"My wife," he said, "is beyond crystallisation: she is dead. Of course -she goes through the form of living. She called you 'that young woman' -when she received the invitation, and wrote as you see, from the dead in -heaven to the dead in--limbo. But, my dear girl, did you ever hear of me -agreeing with my wife? Almost never! This time I did." - -"Mr. Fenno----" began Judith. - -"Let me go on," he begged. "Of course you understand what a declaration -you are offering to your friends; what a choice as well. I know your -opinion of us; we, Society, are irksome to you. Just as irksome to me, I -assure you; I hate my own life. And yet we are a force; in spite of all -appearances we are a force for good. Come, you and I are so far apart in -age that we cannot be angry with each other. Let me say my say, and when -we part let us smile and go our ways." - -"Very well," she replied. - -"Miss Judith," he said, "there has been an aristocracy in every -democracy that lived three generations. Ours is very old, somewhat dried -and formal, with a hard crust. Figureheads we are to a degree; rather -useless, perhaps. That is why such a girl as you is a blessing to us; a -few more years, and you can teach us many, many things. Stay with us; -you mustn't go off in the wrong direction." - -She made no answer. - -"This man Ellis," he pursued. "You cannot bring him in. Believe me, it -is impossible. You must choose between us." - -"What if I make the choice?" she inquired. - -"And choose against us? You would be sorry. My dear, what has blinded -your eyes? I know you admire his energy, his immense capacities. But -those are not everything. Ellis is not honest." - -"Mr. Fenno!" she cried, starting. - -"I have watched him," he went on steadily, "since first he came to town. -I know his methods. Where did he get his money?" - -"Through ordinary business," she asserted. - -"Until he became president of the street-railway," said Mr. Fenno with -emphasis, "Ellis never held a position, never did any business, never -appeared before the city clearly as concerned in any legitimate -undertaking. Since he built his house over here he has become -respectable--outwardly. But that house was built with public money." - -"Never!" she cried indignantly. - -"He has his own little Tammany here," Mr. Fenno said unmoved. "But he is -becoming too bold. He will wreck himself by the demands he is making for -the street-railway system." - -"The public will be afraid of granting eminent domain; he expects that. -For the rest, what else is he showing than wise forethought?" - -"For the rest," he rejoined, his deep voice emphasising harshly, "he is -but using the plans of George Mather, which came to him with the -railway." - -"No!" she cried involuntarily. He made no answer, but looked at her -silently. "Mr. Fenno," she said, to cover her confusion, "this question -is progress against conservatism." - -"So," he remarked, "we have arrived at a deadlock. Well, I expected it. -Good-bye, Miss Judith. I shall be interested in the result of this." -They parted formally, yet his last keen glance troubled her. - -And what he had said! No one had ever accused Ellis before--not -directly. Whispers she had heard, of course, but such quiet confidence -as Mr. Fenno showed was new to her; it brought the question nearer home, -and seemed to command her to find out where Ellis got his money. For -some hours she was troubled, but at last, as one is prone to do before a -great question, Judith put it aside for a smaller one. Whom should she -ask in the Fennos' place? She decided that she would not venture again -with the older people, and choosing George Mather and Mary Carr, wrote -the notes to invite them. Then, late in the day, she found an answer to -Mr. Fenno's arguments. - -Her father approved of Ellis: that was enough. The defense was specious, -almost cowardly, for Judith knew her father. But she regained her -self-control, supported herself anew by the argument of progressiveness -against conservatism, and arrived again at complete approval of Ellis. -She recalled their last talk, remembered his request, and decided she -would try to fulfill it. She had spent most of the day in the house; it -was growing dark, she needed exercise, and would go and watch, at a -certain crowded corner, the working of the transfer system. Once in the -cold air, her spirits rose, and she hurried down town. At length she -arrived where cars loaded to the fenders groaned slowly by, or stood and -blocked the traffic. - -The streets were full, the sidewalks crowded with people hurrying -homeward. Judith liked the twilight, the bustle, and the lighted shops. -At the familiar corner she found many shoppers waiting for their cars, -and went and stood among them. She seemed to herself to be doing -something romantic, and (little as such considerations usually appealed -to her) was pleased to stand among the people like a queen in disguise, -to listen to their grievances, guilelessly expressed, and to bear the -complaints to the man who best knew what was needed. It was an -attractive picture which she painted of her own importance. But just as -she was congratulating herself on the deepening dusk, which made -features dim, an electric light sputtered out overhead and flooded the -place with its palpitating radiance. - -An acquaintance immediately recognised and spoke to her. Scarcely had -she got rid of him than another, catching her eye, bowed and made toward -her. "This will never do," she thought, as she gave him the slip. -Accordingly, she went to a doorway where the shadow from the lamp was -deep. There she stood and watched, while cars came and went, while men -and women rushed and struggled to board them, or while others, moving -impatiently with cold and weariness, waited and fretted while they read -in vain the wording on each car. It was an active scene, a fascinating -one to Judith, until a small figure came and stood between her and the -others, aloof and watching, like herself. It was Ellis. - -She was amused, and drew within her shelter lest he should see her: she -would tease him when next they should meet. Then she saw another man, a -fellow in rough working-clothes, watching Ellis from one side. Presently -the man advanced to him and spoke; Judith did not hear their words until -Ellis, turning, led the man away from the crowd until he stood within a -few yards of her. - -"Now, what did you say?" demanded Ellis, halting. - -"I've never been paid, you know I've never been paid, sir, for that -Chebasset job. Only fifty I've ever got; I was to have a hundred." The -man spoke in a whine; his voice was husky and in a degree familiar to -Judith; as the light fell strongly from overhead, his hat cast a deep -shadow on his face. - -"That job failed," answered Ellis. - -"I did my best," answered the man sullenly. Then he quickly changed his -manner; his voice became sharp, yet still it reminded Judith of tones -she once had heard. "Pay me!" he demanded. "Pay me, Mr. Ellis, or by God -I'll have something to say to your men on those cars that will make this -strike certain. If I tell them of Chebasset----" - -"Wait!" and Ellis raised a hand. "How much truth is there in this talk -of a strike among my men?" - -"A good deal," snarled the fellow. "It wouldn't take much to bring it -on." - -"Thank you," said Ellis composedly. He put his hand in his pocket, drew -out a roll of bank bills, and gave some to the man. "I am much obliged -to you for the information." - -"Fifty?" demanded the workman. - -"Sixty," Ellis replied. - -The man looked at Ellis, then at the notes; suddenly his bearing -altered, and he touched his hat. "Thank you," he mumbled, and walked -away. Ellis turned again to watch the cars. - -Judith stood motionless; the talk meant nothing to her, except that it -showed her Ellis's resource and revealed the small ways, as well as the -great, in which he was called on to manage men. Nevertheless, she felt -uncomfortable, and when Ellis had moved away she prepared to slip off. -But before her path was entirely clear she saw Jim Wayne approach and -speak to Ellis. In Jim's appearance was that which struck her with -astonishment. - -For he, usually so neat, was untidy; his coat was buttoned askew, and -from under his hat his hair strayed in disorder. He accosted Ellis -eagerly; she heard him say "Here you are" in a tone of relief, and began -speaking quickly. Judith took a step forward, preparing to go. But then -Ellis turned and led Jim near the doorway; Judith's chance to escape was -lost, yet she was on the point of revealing herself, when Jim's words -stayed her. - -"You must! You must!" he was saying, in such a tone of actual demand -that Judith wondered and shrank back. Few persons dared to speak to -Ellis thus. - -"Must?" repeated Ellis angrily. But then he laughed. "Wayne, you have no -claim on me." - -"Who gave me the idea?" cried Jim. "Who told me what to do? You! But it -is gone--all gone!" The gesture with which he struck his hands together -revealed both horror and despair. - -"Your wits as well," returned Ellis shortly. "If you want help from a -man, don't begin by insulting him." - -"But something must be done at once!" cried Jim. "If Mather----" - -"I understand that he went to Chebasset this morning," remarked Ellis as -if indifferently, yet he glanced sidewise upon the young man. "He -returned very much disturbed." - -"There!" exclaimed Jim. "He has found it out!" Again he clenched his -hands with that gesture of despair. Judith felt that something was -hanging over him, over her, and in spite of herself drew deeper into the -shadow. - -"Mather can be quieted," said Ellis, unperturbed. "Come, this is no -place for you to carry on like this. Meet me this evening." - -"Where?" - -"At--some one's house. Half-past nine." - -"It must be earlier," returned Jim. - -"Then come to the Blanchards; I mean to dine there." - -"No," answered Jim, "I can't go there. But promise me to come away -early!" - -"I will come when I choose," answered Ellis impatiently. Then he added: -"Go! I see Mather." - -Jim turned and darted off, holding his head low. Ellis walked composedly -in the opposite direction; and to Judith, thus left alone, the sound of -the shuffling of the crowd, the rumbling of the electrics, the subdued -roar of the more distant traffic, rose suddenly into life. She moved -forward, saw that her escape was clear, and hurried away. At the next -corner she found a public carriage and directed the driver to take her -home. - -The vehicle was closed; she let down a window and leaned to it for the -air. What were these matters she had overheard? The episode of the -workman passed from her mind, but what had Jim demanded of Ellis, what -had gone wrong, and where were they to meet? They were far more intimate -than she had supposed. And why had Jim avoided Mather? Weariness came -over Judith as she considered her own ignorance. These were the things -which men did by themselves; these were the signs of those business -troubles which women heard of but never met, the smirch and jostle of -down-town affairs. Such things happened daily--and Judith roused to a -feeling of envy. Little daily worries and cares--the men had too many of -them, doubtless, but she had far too few. - -And now, as still she leaned by her window, she saw Mather. He was on a -corner, full in the glare of a street-light, and he seemed to be looking -among the passers as if in search of Jim. The carriage jolted slowly -across the cobbles and the tracks; then, blocked by vehicles in front, -it stopped almost at his side. Judith drew back, but still she watched -him. Tall, strong, somewhat anxious and overburdened, why could he not -be--different? - -A woman stood by his side, or rather a girl with a woman's haggard eyes. -She was looking up sidewise into Mather's face, studying it with a -vixenish eagerness. She touched him on the arm, and he looked down at -her. - -"Say," she said, "you're a good-lookin' feller." - -He answered soberly. "Thank you." - -"Isn't there some place," she asked, "where we could eat together?" - -His hand went to his pocket. As he made the motion a figure, large, -noiseless, with gleaming buttons on a blue uniform, approached and stood -close behind: a policeman, watching curiously. Mather drew out a bank -note and offered it to the girl. - -"With that," he asked, "can you be good for a few days?" - -"W'at yer mean?" she demanded. But she snatched the money. "Ah, you're a -real swell, you are." - -"Go home," he said. "Go home--Jenny." - -"Jenny!" she exclaimed. "How'd yer know my name?" Then as if warned of -the presence behind she turned and saw the policeman, shrank, and fled. -The roundsman and Mather regarded each other. - -"Did you know her, sir?" asked the man. - -"Never saw her before," was the answer. "You don't read Rossetti, I -suppose, officer. Here comes my car." - -He stepped from the curb to go behind Judith's carriage; at the same -moment the vehicle started with a jerk and went swiftly forward. For a -little longer it was involved in the city traffic, then it turned into -a quiet street and bowled onward quickly. Once more Judith leaned at -the window, glad of the cold air. She was oppressed; to-night life -seemed complicated, awful, even tragic. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII - -PLAIN LANGUAGE - - -Once at home, where Beth and the Colonel were still absent, Judith went -to the book-case in the little parlour and drew out the volume of -Rossetti's poems. "Jenny," she found in the index, and turning to the -page, she read: - - "Lazy laughing languid Jenny, - Fond of a kiss and fond of a guinea----" - -No, not that kind of a Jenny was that whom she had seen. Rather this: - - "When, wealth and health slipped past, you stare - Along the streets alone, and there, - Round the long park, across the bridge, - The cold lamps at the pavement's edge - Wind on together and apart, - A fiery serpent for your heart." - -And then the moral, the world-moral, this: - - "Like a toad within a stone - Seated while Time crumbles on; - Which sits there since the world was curs'd - By man's transgression at the first; - Which always--whitherso the stone - Be flung--sits there, deaf, blind, alone;-- - Aye, and shall not be driven out - Till that which shuts him round about - Break at the very Master's stroke, - And the dust thereof vanish as smoke, - And the seed of Man vanish as dust:-- - Even so within this world is Lust." - -Judith sat with the book open in her lap, meditating. She knew enough of -that lower life to have for it a man's pity rather than a woman's scorn; -recalling Mather's action, she liked him better for it. And she began to -think of him regretfully, as one who just missed the highest capacities -and so failed to meet the supreme tests. "A fine fellow!" she murmured, -so absorbed that she did not hear the door-bell ring, nor notice -footsteps until Mather himself entered the room with hurried step. He -wore his overcoat; on his brow was still the frown of care. - -"Ah," he said, "I am glad to find you. Is Jim Wayne here, Judith?" - -She rose and laid the book aside, carefully, so that he should not see -what she had been reading. "No," she answered. "It is his night to come. -But I saw him down town, George, and he looked worried. Is anything -wrong?" - -"It has been a bad day in stocks," he answered. "I must find Jim. Excuse -my troubling you, Judith." And he moved toward the door. - -"Wait, George." She took from the table the note which earlier she had -written him. "I have an invitation for you." - -He took it, opened it, and began to read. "Ah!" he said at first, as if -with pleasure. But as she watched she saw a quick and startling change -in his countenance; his forehead contracted with pain, and he closed his -lips firmly. But he read on to the end, and then looked at her quietly. - -"I cannot come," he said. - -With a conscious summoning of her courage she asked, "You have an -engagement?" - -"No," he replied. "But I cannot march in Ellis's triumph." - -"You are entirely mistaken," she said haughtily. - -"If not yet, then soon," he returned. She made no answer, yet she -flushed with indignation; he bowed and turned to the door. Then he came -back. "Judith, will you allow me to speak with you frankly? A few words -may make a difference to us forever." - -It was not the words which impressed her, it was the emotion which drove -them from his breast, which burned in his eyes. She was so astonished -that she made no answer; he said, to emphasise his request, "It may be -seldom that we speak again." - -"Seldom speak again?" she repeated. - -He took her words for a consent. "Judith," he asked, "what is this man -Ellis to you? Do you realise that he is using you?" - -Her indignation rose. "Using me!" - -"To get among us," he explained. "He has no gratitude, no remorse. Once -he has used a man he throws him aside like an old glove; he has never -shown personal feeling for any one. Why do you have to do with him?" - -"You envy his ability," she said. - -"Not I," he answered. "I admire his firmness, his persistence, his -capacity. But I cannot admire him. Judith, he is a bane, a poison in our -system, a disease!" - -"You mistake him," she cried. - -"Not I. I know him, and am going to fight him." - -"Fight him, then!" she returned. - -He spoke more quietly. "We have been careless with him; he has brought -corruption into the city. But small cities are not so conscienceless as -big ones; the better elements are rising against him. This day I was -formally asked to lead them, and I shall probably be against his man in -the mayoralty contest next fall. It is a battle of principles: that is -why I can never take salt with him." - -She was quite unmoved, using her previous defense. "It will be a -struggle of the new against the old." - -"Ah, Judith," he replied almost sadly, "is he blinding you thus? And do -you see my meaning clearly? All the better elements will oppose him. -Whoever is with him will be against us." - -"Who are you," she cried, "to pronounce on good and evil? Take care -against self-righteousness, George." - -"I will take care," he answered. "But there is another side to this, -Judith. Put this larger issue by and turn to the smaller, the personal -one between you and me. Judith, I have loved you. I thought you were -womanly at bottom. But have you no heart, after all?" His intensity was -growing. - -"That still troubles you?" she inquired. - -"Are you absolutely cold?" he asked. "Are your old friends nothing to -you? What if they turn from you?" - -"So," she said, "you threaten me with that?" - -"It is inevitable," he said with energy. "Even as my love--no boy's -love, Judith--wavers and grows sick, so will their friendship. Have we -all mistaken you? Will you give such approval to such a man?" - -Anger at last grew strong within her. "George!" she said in warning. - -But he, casting before her his burning reproaches, would not be -repressed. "I say the only thing which can bring you to yourself. Do my -words sting? They tear me as I utter them!" His face was changing as he -spoke, paling as if the effort weakened him, yet still he dragged out -the words. "Judith, I could see you married to an honourable man, and -still love and bless you. I will idealise you until you besmirch -yourself--but you are no child, to do that unknowingly. On the day you -give yourself to Ellis----" - -"Stop!" she interrupted. - -"No!" he cried. "It is in your mind; you cannot deny it. On the day, -Judith, that you give yourself to him, you sell yourself!" - -He stood voiceless and panting, gazing at her with accusing eyes. And -for an instant she reeled, a voice within her cried "Jenny!" and she saw -that woman of the streets. Then fierce indignation flooded her veins; -she started to the table, seized the Japanese knife, and held it naked -in her hand. With ease she balanced and pointed the heavy weapon. - -"Do you suppose," he asked, "that you can hurt me deeper?" - -For a moment they stood confronting, his courage as strong as her anger. -Then she threw the dagger clattering upon the table, and pointed to the -door. "Go!" - -He gave her one searching look, bowed, and went quickly from the house. - -The Colonel, entering some fifteen minutes later, found Judith in the -arm-chair where she had flung herself after pacing the room. "Judith," -he said, "I met Mr. Ellis just now, and he said he was coming up to -dinner." - -"Very well," she answered inattentively. - -He saw that her brow was clouded, and his desire to speak with her -seriously began to melt. When he was alone it seemed to him simple -enough to say a few fatherly words in favour of Ellis; the Colonel -wished very much to have his mind relieved about the future. But now was -not the time, not while that frown was on her face. So he went -up-stairs. - -Then his statement found its way into Judith's mind, and she sprang to -her feet. Ellis was coming--then _it_ was coming! She hurried up-stairs -and dressed herself with care; when she was ready she was a picture. But -it was not her gown and scanty jewels that made her radiant, but the -glow within her, which was the smouldering indignation she still felt -against Mather. Thus to threaten, thus to dare her, thus to set himself -up as judge! She waited impatiently for Ellis to come. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV - -BRINGING ABOUT AN UNDERSTANDING - - -Beth was much disappointed that evening; it was Saturday, yet Jim did -not come to dinner. She wished for him especially as a relief from the -irritation of Ellis's presence; she longed for Jim as the meal -progressed, for her father was very complacent to Ellis, and it troubled -her. But Ellis was a greater cause of distress, as he spoke more than -usual, and more directly at Judith. They were talking of politics, he -and the Colonel. Municipal affairs, Judith put in; what was the prospect -in them? - -"A fight," answered Ellis, "and with the man I least like as my -opponent: your friend, George Mather. I expect he will be the reform -candidate for mayor--it is too bad!" - -"Why?" asked Beth. - -"Because," he answered, turning to her, "I should like to be friends -with him. If he and I could agree, nothing could stand before us. He is -the most energetic and far-sighted among the other side." - -"Come over to him, then," said Beth bluntly. - -He smiled at her. "I see that you think as Mather does. It's very -natural. But I have not only the misfortune to be with--well, let's say -the commoner people, but I also believe as they believe, and act as I do -from conviction. Nothing would give me greater pleasure, Miss Blanchard, -than to see things as you do, and to set myself, as I believe Mr. Mather -conscientiously does, against progress. There would be great personal -advantage to me in it." - -"Mr. Ellis means," explained the Colonel, "that the defensive is always -the easiest side to fight on." - -"More than that," added Ellis. "The other side in this quarrel is the -respectable one. Positively, I am almost disreputable." He paused for -her comment; Beth smiled with constraint, amazed at his boldness. - -"Outwardly, you mean," said Judith. - -"And only outwardly, I trust," he responded. "There are underlying -principles governing my actions (he was speaking to Beth again, after -turning to Judith for a single moment) which unfortunately do not -appear. I expect to be misunderstood by your friends." - -"Always?" asked Beth. "Are not the rest of us to comprehend you some -day, Mr. Ellis?" - -"Let me show you," he said, "how to comprehend me now." He leaned toward -her, smiling; for the first time Beth felt a magnetic quality in his -glance, but it was reptilian and unpleasant. He told her of his outlook -on the future; he grated on her, yet he impressed her, for even with -opponents such as Ellis she was reasonable. But she felt a fundamental -falsity, felt it but could not expose it; it was instinct alone that -taught her suspicion of his unanswerable words. For no logic could meet -them; they were wisdom itself. Of one thing, however, Beth felt certain: -that they were not directed at her but at Judith. - -And Judith responded. When Ellis stopped speaking, she took up the word; -with real earnestness she explained, added, and finally approved. The -plan was wise, far-reaching--oh, thought Beth, if but Mather, and not -Ellis, had been the man to originate it! Then Beth started: had she not -once heard that Mather had made plans, perhaps just such as these, at -which the older heads had wondered? Although on mere conjecture, she -took up the matter as boldly as she could. - -"I did not know, Mr. Ellis, that you were such an engineer." - -"I am only a promoter," he answered. "You will find the opposition -newspapers calling me that. But I often handle large matters, and that -is how I came on the idea." - -"You mean you found it?" she asked. "Did you not originate it?" - -Ellis flushed and hesitated; Judith spoke quickly. "I don't suppose -anything in the world is so original that it hasn't been proposed -before. Mr. Ellis, Beth, is profiting by the experience of other -cities--aren't you?" And Judith turned to him. - -Gratified, he assented. Beth saw the glance of understanding that passed -between them; turning to her father, she saw him watching Judith with -satisfaction. She felt almost faint: how was the world going so wrong -that this could happen? Nothing was left for Beth but to declare, as -brightly as she could--yet Judith felt the distress in her voice--that -this was all so new that she must think it over. After that she sat -silent. - -But Judith, having expressed her zeal in Ellis's cause, was more than -ever pleased with herself and with him. It struck her particularly that -he was generous toward Mather, that it was kind of Ellis to praise him -and desire him as an ally, and that, contrasting with Mather's -denunciation of his rival, Ellis showed the finer character. She was -about to question him again when the servant brought a note and laid it -at her plate. - -"The messenger asked me to deliver it to you at once, Miss Judith." - -Judith took it up; it was addressed in Mather's hand. Her instant -impulse to destroy it he had foreseen, for in the corner of the envelope -he had written "Not personal." So, still flushing with the indignation -she had first felt, she opened the envelope and took out the note. It -was written on the paper of the University Club. - - "_My dear Judith_: I must find Jim Wayne, but Beth must not know. - Trusting absolutely to your secrecy, I give my reasons. Matters - have been mismanaged at the mill; and just now, calling on Mrs. - Wayne, I found her in despair over the disappearance of her - securities. I fear that Jim has been speculating, and I am sure he - is avoiding me, but I must find him before he takes it into his - head to leave the city, for perhaps I can set matters right. If he - comes to your house, will you immediately telephone me at the club? - I am - Yours in great haste, - GEORGE MATHER." - -Judith was not one to be disturbed by sudden news, bad or good; she took -this calmly. But as she sat, still looking at the letter, its meaning -began to come upon her. Jim had been with Ellis that afternoon, had had -some previous understanding with him, had almost accused him. Jim had -fled at Mather's coming, leaving unsaid more of those reproaches and -demands with which he had showered Ellis. His very words came back to -her: "Who gave me the idea? Who told me what to do?" Then she remembered -Ellis's cold remark: "Wayne, you have no claim upon me." - -Not understanding why, Judith began to tremble, and her hands grew cold. -It was as if her instinct outstripped her mind and gave warning of what -was coming. Slowly, sitting there in her place and looking straight -before her, she began to unravel the puzzle. Ellis looked at her once, -curiously; then Beth, seeing the glance and noting Judith's absorption, -took her place in the conversation. Judith thought on. If Jim had -speculated, had Ellis known? Had Ellis led him into it? Once in, did -Ellis refuse to help him? She recalled what Mather had said of Ellis -discarding his tools. But how could Jim be of use to him, -except--yes!--as a handle, a hold on her through Beth! And was this -Ellis's method of bringing Jim into his power? She heard again the boy's -despairing words: "Who gave me the idea?" - -She looked at Ellis: what was this wild suspicion? Could it be true? - -Beth, not knowing what else to speak about, had made him talk of the -suggested strike. Ellis had laughed about it. There would be no strike. - -"Why," he was saying as Judith looked at him, "the air seems charged -with strike-talk sometimes, yet nothing comes of it. Now that I think of -it," and he paused to laugh, "a man tried blackmail on me this -afternoon. He was a fellow I once had to do with when we were both -younger, a crank if ever there was one. He has ideas of the rights of -the workingman, yet he is far from honest. He came to me with the -statement that he could bring on the strike if he wished--with his -socialistic talk, you understand. He wished me to pay him to keep from -haranguing my men." - -"Did you do it?" Judith suddenly demanded. - -"No, no," he said lightly. "A mere agitator, he could do no harm." - -"An agitator?" asked Beth, interested. "Why, there was such a man at -George's mill this summer. Don't you remember, Judith. He tried to bring -about a strike there. I wonder if it was the same man, Mr. Ellis. Was -his name Stock?" - -Judith had watched steadily. At Beth's first words Ellis had changed, -hardened, made his face stone. But at the name--did he not control a -start? Yet he answered with indifference. "Oh, no. There are many such -fellows. It is quite another man." - -But he glanced at Judith, and though he did it quietly and steadily, as -once he had described his habit to be, she recalled the conversation -which she had overheard, and understood it all. She _had_ known the -voice, the husky tones which became harsh when raised. She remembered -the words, the Chebasset job for which money had been promised, yet -which had failed. And Ellis had paid--had paid! The meanness, the whole -base plot, was revealed to her. - -The servant had come with the dessert, but Judith rose from her chair; -her face was white. "I cannot eat any more," she said. "You must excuse -me." - -"Is anything----" began her father. - -"I must go," she said, and went into the parlour, wishing only to be -alone and think, to despise herself at leisure. Ellis had revealed not -only himself, but also her blind folly. She cast herself upon the sofa -and put her face in her hands. - -Then she heard his footsteps; he had followed. He crossed the room; she -felt him sit beside her, and she heard his voice. He spoke gently. "Miss -Judith--Judith!" He took her hand to draw it from her face. - -His touch was a disgrace, but she yielded her hand to his; she wished -his fingers might burn like fire, to brand her punishment. Writhing in -spirit as she felt herself unclean, for very scorn would not resist him. - -"Judith," he repeated, his hope rising, "you are not ill?" - -"No." She turned and looked upon him resolutely; she would see once more -this man whom she had admired. - -"If anything I have said," he went on, "if I have--oh, did it come over -you then so strongly that you left the table? Did you feel that we are -made for each other?" - -She withdrew her hand quickly. "Made for each other!" - -His face changed, the eagerness was checked, and he said the -conventional words, conventionally: "I love you." - -She looked into him: how small he was! How cold his voice, which should -have been impassioned! "Love me?" she asked. "You love crooked ways!" - -Slowly he rose. "What is this?" he asked. - -"I so felt our--sympathy, that I left the table? Oh, yes, yes!" Scorn -overcame her; again she hid her face. Oh, but to die from the strength -of this hatred of herself! - -She heard him walk away; then he returned and stood before her. "I do -not understand you," he said. "I have been foolish, perhaps, but I told -the truth. I do feel that we are made for each other. Will you marry -me?" - -Her contempt of him left her; she loathed only herself. All through this -acquaintance he had been his natural man; it was she who had deceived -herself. For that she could not punish him. "I cannot marry you," she -answered. - -His effort at self-control was visible, but it succeeded. "I beg," he -said, "that you will give me time. If I have been hasty----" - -"No," she said, rising and facing him. "Mr. Ellis, I acknowledge that I -have treated you badly; I am as sorry as I can be. Can I say more than -that? Yes, I beg you to forgive me. But I can never marry you." - -He pressed his lips firmly together; his brows contracted, and he looked -at her out of those narrow eyes which could control his subordinates or -threaten his opponents. But she met him with sorrow, not defiance, and -he could not understand. - -"What has happened?" he cried. "Yesterday--this very day----" - -"You were sure of me?" she asked. "Rightly, Mr. Ellis. But now it is too -late." - -"What is it, then? Has that fellow Mather----?" - -"Yourself only," she interrupted. "I beg you to leave me." - -He looked at her a moment longer; then he left the room. But not the -house: she heard him go to the dining-room and speak to her father. Then -Beth came into the parlour quickly; she was agitated. - -"Judith----" - -"Not now, Beth," and Beth left her again. - -There was a pause, and then her father came; she heard his dragging -step. When he appeared he showed the last shreds of his natural -feeling--shame that at Ellis's order he should come to advise his child. - -"Judith," he began, "Mr. Ellis tells me that--that you----" - -"I have declined to marry him," she said. - -"Why is this?" he asked. "It has seemed so plain that you would take -him." - -Judith hung her head. Had it then been so plain? "I have changed." - -"Come," said the Colonel with an attempt at briskness. "You can't mean -this. There's nothing against Ellis that I can see." - -"Nothing?" she asked. "And you say that, father? What will our friends -say." - -"Girls marry out of their station," he urged uneasily. "We can bring him -in, Judith." - -"Father," she demanded, "what hold has he on you, to make you say -this?" - -"Hold?" he asked. "My dear child, there is nothing of the sort." But -when the truth was thrust directly at him the Colonel was a poor actor. - -"There is something between you," Judith said. - -"I have come to see Mr. Ellis in a different light," he explained. "That -is all there is to it." - -"Father," cried Judith, "tell me!" - -He turned away from her and began to walk up and down, but she held his -sleeve and stopped him. - -"Father!" she beseeched. - -He tried to meet her eye, and failed; he looked at the carpet and -shifted his feet. But still he felt her insistent grasp upon his arm, -and at last he spoke huskily. - -"Judith, I owe him money." - -"Oh!" she gasped, and fell away from him. "Father, what have you done?" -Yet feeling that she had not even the right to reproach him, she said no -more. As she stood with bowed head, he took courage. - -"You see," he said, "why it must be." - -"Must be?" she demanded. "Oh, father, does that make it inevitable?" - -"Judith," he asked her, startled. "Do you mean that you--you won't?" - -"How much do you owe him?" she questioned with energy. - -"Some thousands." - -"Well," she said, "what are four or five thousand? We can sell the house -and live differently." - -He looked his alarm. "It is more than five," he said. "Nearer ten -thousand." - -"The house is worth more than that," she responded. - -"But to leave this place?" he objected. "Judith, this is absurd, -unreasonable! Where could we go?" - -"Go anywhere!" she answered. "Live as we must. Father, you can work." - -"Work?" he gasped. "I--work?" - -"Then I will support you. Beth and I." - -"No, no!" he said in despair. "I couldn't stand it; I couldn't exist. At -my age; think of that!" and his tone turned to pleading. - -She heard a footstep at the threshold, and there was Ellis. He entered -and spoke to her. "I couldn't wait. Miss Blanchard, has not your father -persuaded you?" - -She turned upon him with flaming eye. "How did you first persuade him? -Did you offer to release his debt?" - -"So," he snarled to the Colonel, "you have told!" - -The Colonel stepped away from the venomous gleam of his teeth. "She made -me," he stammered. - -"Made you!" - -"There is no advantage in discussing this, Mr. Ellis," said Judith. - -"Do not count it against me," he urged quickly. "Your father came to me -of himself, asking for help. I did it for you." - -"You would have served me better by refusing. But Mr. Ellis, the money -shall be paid." - -"Paid with money?" he asked. With clenched hands he turned upon the -Colonel. "Oh, you fool!" - -"Father!" cried Judith, and stepped between them to restrain the burst -of military wrath which should cast Ellis from the house. But to her -amazement her father stood motionless, almost cringing. Then first she -recognised the slow degeneration which in all these years had been going -on beneath the unchanged exterior. "Father!" she said again, but now in -pity, and took her place at his side. She felt, as he made a little -movement toward her, his gratitude for the protection--another -revelation of his loss of manliness. "Mr. Ellis, there is nothing -further to say." - -"Oh, you have led me on to this!" he cried. "Was it put up between you? -Such a way to gain money!" - -Instinctively she took her father's arm, to hold him; again he proved, -by his passivity, that his spirit was all gone. "Will you leave us?" she -asked coldly. - -"Oh!" Ellis cried, shaking with anger and carried away. "You put it on -well! Because I am not one of you, you tricked me, then? And was it -Mather all the time? But my turn is coming!" He would have said more, -but she left her father and went toward the door. Then he saw how -hopelessly he was cutting himself off from her. "Oh, forgive me--Judith! -I am frantic." - -But she turned at the door, and standing like an angry goddess, pointed -into the hallway. "Go!" she commanded. - -"Miss Blanchard!" he exclaimed in consternation. - -"Go!" - -His hold on her was gone forever; he saw it, and his venom returned. He -went swiftly to her father; she did not hear the words that Ellis -hissed. "I have bought up the mortgages on this house; you know they are -long overdue. Monday I turn you out!" - -With delight he saw the Colonel flinch, but by no effort of resolution -could Ellis meet the glance of the haughty figure at the door. Yet as he -passed her Judith quailed and shivered, for by the same commanding -gesture she had sent Mather from the house. - - - - -CHAPTER XXV - -THE COLONEL GIVES UP HIS LUXURIES - - -The Colonel pulled himself together. Ellis was gone, and relieved from -that oppressive influence Blanchard held up his head. He tried to smile, -and found that he succeeded fairly well. He tested his voice; it came as -usual, sonorously. - -"Thank Heaven!" he said, "the fellow's gone." - -"Father," answered Judith, "you and I have both done wrong." - -He waved his hand impatiently; would her confounded straightforwardness -not let him forget? "Never mind." - -"Never mind?" she repeated. "Father, we can't put this aside for a -single minute. We must plan at once what shall be done." - -"You always were fiery," he said indulgently. "Well, go ahead." - -"We need Beth," and Judith went to call her in. Beth came, white with -apprehension, having heard tones but not words, and feeling rather than -knowing that there was trouble. She sought to learn all from one -question. "Where is Mr. Ellis?" - -"Gone," answered Judith. "He will not come here again." - -"Oh," she cried, "I am glad. Then why so grave?" - -"Mr. Ellis," her sister said, "has gone away very angry, and father owes -him money." Then she looked upon the Colonel with sudden suspicion. -"Father, you said _about_ ten thousand dollars. Was it more?" - -"My dear child," he protested, "this matter is not so great as you -suppose. And I cannot tell you all of my affairs." - -"Father," she returned, "for my sake, if not for yours, Mr. Ellis should -be paid at once." - -He rebuked her. "I know how to keep our honour clean. Mr. Ellis shall be -paid at once." - -"You promise that, sir?" - -"I do." - -"And will it mean that we must sell the house?" - -"It will." The Colonel always excelled in the delivery of monosyllables. - -"Sell the house?" gasped Beth. - -"Come here, dear," said Judith, and drew her to her side. "Beth, you -have plenty of courage, I know." - -"I hope so." Pleased by the unusual caress, Beth controlled her -trembling. "What are you planning, Judith?" - -"We must entirely change our way of life." Judith looked to her father -for confirmation; he nodded. "Are you willing to work, Beth?" - -"I am willing," was the confident answer. - -"Father," Judith asked, "how much will the house bring?" - -"Come here," he answered. "Let me tell you what we must do." - -He went to the sofa; they followed. Beth took the place he indicated at -his side; Judith sat in a chair. The Colonel, still smiling, looked on -them paternally, and began to depict in words his ready imaginings. - -"When the house is sold and the debt is paid," he said, "we shall have -left--let me see, perhaps twenty thousand dollars. I don't need to -explain," he interrupted himself to say, "that had not other resources -previously failed me--mismanagements and losses, dears, not from my -fault--I should never have turned to Mr. Ellis for assistance. No, no; -of course you understand that. Therefore, the house is our only source -of capital. Well, twenty thousand left: that would mean perhaps a -thousand dollars a year to house and feed and clothe us. Yes, perhaps a -thousand." The Colonel clung to the _perhaps_; it was covering a lie, -several lies. "You see, we shall really be in difficulties." - -"Yes," murmured Beth. - -The Colonel warmed to his task. "Now, you are both young; on the other -hand I am not old, and I am a soldier. The habit of courage, girls, I -learned in my youth. So we are well equipped. But, only a thousand -dollars! That will pay rent; perhaps it will pay for food. And our -clothes, our little knick-knacks, we must earn for ourselves." - -"Shall we take an apartment?" asked Beth, for Judith remained silent, -watching her father intently. "One of the new ones they have been -putting up?" - -"Ah, no," he said kindly. "They cost five hundred a year, my child. This -must be something of an emigration, Beth: this quarter of the town is no -longer for us. But there are very respectable, quiet neighbourhoods -where we can go; and even houses, not apartments, that we can rent. Does -that dismay you?" - -Beth pressed his hand. "No, father, no!" - -He avoided Judith's steady look, and smoothed Beth's hair. "Servants--I -don't think we can afford them. One of you two must do the housework. -Which shall it be?" - -"I!" Beth answered promptly. - -"Cooking, dishwashing, sweeping," he warned her. "Are you really -willing?" - -"If you will be patient with my mistakes." - -"My dear little girl, I am proud of you. Judith, is she not fine?" But -still he kept his eyes upon the pleased and blushing Beth. "And we two -others will earn the money." - -"I am sorry," responded Beth. Then she brightened. "But, father, need it -be so bad as this? You know so much of affairs; you can command a good -salary at once." - -"Remember," he said, "that I have failed. The world has gone against me. -No one will have use for me. A clerk or a bank messenger--that is the -most I can look to be." - -"No, no!" cried Beth, shocked. - -"It is natural," he said with resignation. "And perhaps Judith, with her -talents and her typewriter, before long will be supporting all three of -us." For the first time Judith heard his natural tone, in this reminder -of his many little flings. "And we will all economise!" - -"It will not be hard," Beth said. - -"No," was the paternal response, "because we shall be doing it together. -Think--some little four-room cottage. Perhaps not all the modern -improvements, but never mind. We leave you early in the morning, Judith -and I; we take the crowded electrics with all the other people going to -their work. Judith snatches a few minutes to go to a bargain sale; I, at -a ready-made-clothing store, fit myself to a twelve-dollar suit. Then we -work hard all day, we three--and perhaps it will be hardest for you, -Beth, to be so much alone. But at night we meet over the simple meal you -have prepared, and go early to bed, fatigued by our day." - -Even Beth saw how far this was from the Colonel's nature. "Father, it -will be hardest for you." - -"No worse," he replied, "than the Wilderness campaign. Never you fret, -dear; I can resign my luxuries. And if our friends over here sometimes -speak of us with pity, we shall not meet them often enough to feel hurt -when they do not recognise us in our cheap clothes." - -"Father," cried Beth. "Our friends will stand by us. You shall see!" - -"They will patronise us," he answered. "Shall we care for that? -Especially Judith." And he turned to her at last. - -"I can stand anything," she replied. "I am glad that you have foreseen -all this, father." - -"Did you doubt me?" he asked. He rose, and the girls rose with him. "But -now I must go to my room; I must make a beginning on my new life. -Good-night, Beth. Kiss me. Kiss me, Judith. Dears," he said, gazing on -them affectionately, "we have had little dissensions from time to time, -but I promise never to quarrel with you more. No, don't reply; I know -you will be as forbearing toward me. Good-night; I am going to my -study." He went to the door, and paused a moment. "Judith, did you -really doubt me? You shall see what I can do." - -Waving them a final good-night, he was gone. He climbed the stair -briskly at first; then his step became slower, and his head bowed. In -his study he sank into a chair and passed his hand across his forehead, -where the perspiration had already started out. That had been an effort, -but it was over, and now----! - -He was sitting alone in this little room; like shadows his thoughts -closed in on him. No, he had not lied; he had said _perhaps_. But the -house was mortgaged to its full value, Ellis held the mortgages, and the -interest was long overdue. The furniture was pledged. Monday, owning -nothing but the clothes on his back, he would be turned into the street. -Judith had failed him; everything had failed him. Life, so pleasant, -had played him false at last; there was no outlook any more. Slowly, -without spirit, consumed with self-pity, he took pen and paper and began -to write. How little there was to say! The letter was finished all too -soon. - -In the parlour the two girls sat and spoke together. "How brave of -father!" Beth said. - -Judith answered, "I never saw him less like himself." - -"He is a new man," Beth explained. "He is setting us an example. We must -work, and be a credit to him." - -Judith's energy returned. She would work, she said. The typewriter was -her own; it was paid for. She would apply herself to master it. Were -they still rich, even then she would go to work. She must occupy -herself, and forget. And as for Beth, before long Jim would come and -claim her. - -Then Judith remembered Mather's note, and the trouble deepened. If Jim -had gone wrong, how would Beth, innocent Beth, bear that? She stole a -glance at her sister. Beth was listening. - -"Father, is that you?" she called. - -The Colonel's voice answered from the hall. "I just came down for -something." They heard him go up-stairs again. - -"He came down very quietly," said Beth. "I heard him in the back -parlour. Poor father! He is very brave." - -Then both sat silent, thinking. "We have good blood," said Judith at -last with a tremor of pride in her voice. "We will show we are not -afraid of what may happen." - -"Yes," Beth answered. "--Hush, what was that?" - -"I heard nothing," Judith said. - -Beth's eyes grew larger as she sat rigid. "It was a groan," she -whispered. "Listen!" - -Then they both heard it, unmistakable, coming from the floor above. They -started up, but stood in fear, questioning each other with their eyes. -Again it came, but feebler, like a deep sigh. - -"Father!" cried Judith, and hastened to the stairs. Up they hurried; -they were breathless when they reached the study door. There they -halted, transfixed. - -The Colonel had finished his letter; it lay on the desk by his side. He -reclined in the easy-chair as if asleep, but from his breast stood out -the handle of the Japanese knife. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI - -IN WHICH JUDGE HARMON ENTERS THE STORY - - -Judith stood waiting at the telephone; at the Club the waiter had gone -to fetch Mather. How slow he was in coming! How tired she felt! The -wires sang in her ears; she heard faint voices speaking indistinctly; -she had a dull consciousness of surrounding space, of connection with -far-off spheres, out of which those voices rose, whispered, almost -became articulate, then died away to let the humming of the spheres -begin again. Then some man said loud and briskly: "Hello!" - -"I am using the line," said Judith. - -The man begged her pardon and drifted across the Styx, from whose dim -territory a tinkling voice spoke complainingly for a while, then faded -away. The buzzing in the wires increased the confusion in her head, and -Judith, very, very weary, found herself clinging to the instrument lest -she should fall. With a strong effort she regained her self-control. - -Then she heard in the telephone sounds as of distant heavy strokes of -metal; they grew louder, then the wire clicked. Mather spoke: "Hello!" - -"Oh, George!" she gasped. His voice was calm, quiet, perfectly -modulated, as if he stood there at her side. She released her hold on -the instrument; with him talking so to her she could stand alone. - -"That is you, Judith? Jim is there?" - -"Jim?" She had forgotten him. "Oh, no." - -"Then can I do anything for you?" - -"Something has happened here," she said, "to--to father. He left a -letter addressed to you and Mr. Pease." - -"_Left_ a letter?" She heard the change in his voice. - -"Tell no one, please," she begged. "We telephoned for Mr. Pease and -learned that he is at Judge Harmon's; Beth has gone there for him. Can -you come? At once, George?" - -"Instantly," he answered. "That is all?" - -"All. Good-bye." - -She heard him hang up his receiver. In her turn she left the telephone, -and stronger in the knowledge that he was coming she began to pace the -room. Pease too was coming; Beth would bring him soon. - -But Pease, who had started for the Judge's, had turned aside at the foot -of the steps when he saw Ellis waiting in the vestibule. Pease, telling -himself that he could return, had gone away half an hour before, and all -who had entered the Harmon house that evening were Ellis and Jim Wayne. - -Jim had come first--a wild, dishevelled Jim. He had wandered a good deal -that day, after first leaving Chebasset in the morning and next spending -much time at a ticker. He had not been home; he had not eaten, he had -given Mather the slip a couple of times, and his moods had varied from -fear to bold resolution, and then to sullen despair. But since in the -light fluids of his nature hope easily beat up its accustomed -surface-froth, he arrived at the Harmons' in a more cheerful mood, -looking for the coming of Ellis to relieve him of the consequences of -his folly. When Mrs. Harmon had drawn the portieres, and had begun to -tell him how untidy he was, he explained matters with a laugh. - -"Been sitting over my accounts," he said. "Forgot to brush my hair, did -I? Here's a mirror; just look away a moment, Mrs. Harmon, please, while -I----" He began to arrange his hair with his fingers. - -But she watched him. "I can't lose a chance to see a man prink," she -said. "Tell me about the accounts, Mr. Wayne." - -"Upon my word," he cried, "there's one item I forgot to put down! Just -like me; and so important, too!" - -"What is it?" she inquired. - -"The item, or the cost?" - -"Both. Tell me." - -He set a condition. "One or the other, choose. Wait!" He went to his -overcoat, which he had flung upon a chair, and drew a box from the -pocket. "Now choose," he directed, holding up the box. - -"Oh," she pouted, "that is one of Price's boxes. I can't know the cost -if I am to see what you've bought. You'll show it to me, won't you?" - -"You would like to see it?" - -"Of course." - -"Then open it," he said, giving her the box. "It's for you." - -"For me?" and she opened the little case. "Oh, Mr. Wayne, a locket! What -good taste you have--oh, and I didn't see the chain!" Then she regarded -him reproachfully. "Now, Jim, you know you really mustn't." - -"Always call me Jim!" he directed. "Why mustn't I?" - -"Because you can't afford it." - -"I can!" he asserted. "At least, I could when I bought it. I was three -thousand to the good then." - -"Indeed?" she thought, "and what happened later?" Deciding that -possession was worth securing, she snapped the chain around her neck. -"And so you have had a very lucky day?" - -"Well," explained Jim, "there was a steady rise at first. But then there -came a couple of flurries, and the bottom dropped out of everything I -held." - -"And you lost much?" - -"No, no," he said quickly. "I was watching; I got out at once. I'm not -so very badly off, and Ellis said he'd help me straighten matters. He's -coming here this evening." - -She was much relieved, but covered her feeling by coquetting. "So that -is all you came here for?" - -"That isn't fair," cried Jim. "Didn't I bring the locket? Now Mrs. -Harmon!" He tried to take her hand. After some resistance on her part, -he succeeded. - -Holding that plump and somewhat large assembly of digits, from which no -manicurist had as yet been able to remove the fresh bright pink -reminding of its earlier uses (for Mrs. Harmon had once done her sewing -and washed her own clothes)--holding that hand, Jim felt more agitation -than when he first held Beth's. And though he looked into wide-open -eyes, which met his without a tremor of their lids or a suggestion of a -downward glance, Jim was more thrilled than by the sweet confusion Beth -so oft discovered, even to her accepted lover. This was rare; it -quickened his blood; he was preparing to taste the ruby of those lips, -when into his consciousness came the clang of the door-bell, which was -of the good old-fashioned kind. Before the noise had well begun, Mrs. -Harmon had withdrawn her hand and placed a chair between herself and her -admirer, whose ardent glance had proclaimed his intention with such -distinctness that (combined with the door-bell) it had alarmed her -modesty. And although Jim, calculating that the servant could not reach -the door for half a minute, pursued and begged her not to be so cruel, -she laughed at him and maintained her distance until in the hall were -heard the rustle of the maid's skirts and then the opening of the front -door. Jim was so disgusted that even the appearance of Ellis did not at -first recall him to a willing obedience of the laws of propriety. But -when Ellis, from an abrupt entrance, as abruptly halted and fixed him -with a scowl, Jim came back to himself. - -"Oh," said Ellis, "I had forgot you." - -"I--I don't want to trouble you, Mr. Ellis," replied Jim. - -"But you'd like some four, five, six thousand to help you out, hey? -That's what you've been waiting here for?" - -"You said you'd help me, sir." - -Ellis turned his unchanged scowl on Mrs. Harmon. "Better drop him, -Lydia," he said. "He's an eternal fool." - -"Stephen," she cried indignantly, "have you lost money, too? More than -he has, I'm sure." He sneered, and she added, "Something's gone wrong -with you, then, to make you so rude." - -His frown became blacker still; he had been walking the streets, and -came here in the hope of distraction only to be reminded of Judith. -"Hold your tongue, Lydia," he said roughly. Then he surveyed Jim once -more. "You little fool, get out of your scrape by yourself!" Grasping -his hat as if he would crush its brim, he turned to go. - -"Don't come again, Stephen," she flung after him, "until you've found -your temper." - -Yet the last glimpse of Ellis, as he departed, gave distress to poor -Jim. "Why," he said helplessly, as the outer door closed. "Why, Mrs. -Harmon, he--he said he'd help me!" - -But such common preoccupations as money-difficulties were, at this -moment, foreign to Mrs. Harmon's mood. Jim had stirred her blood, she -was glad that Ellis had gone. Now she moved nearer to the young man, so -that the space between them was free. "Never mind," she said lightly. - -"Never mind?" repeated Jim. "But Mrs. Harmon, I've----" No, he couldn't -tell her. Yet what should he do? - -"Leave business for the daytime," she said. "Forget the mill; forget the -office." She came nearer still. - -Jim hung his head. Mather was after him surely; and what could he say to -his mother? - -"Stephen will come round," said Mrs. Harmon. "Leave him to me." - -"Oh," cried Jim, "you will help me? Just a little, Mrs. Harmon?" - -"Why should I?" she asked archly. She was very close now, and was -looking in his eyes. - -"For our friendship," he answered. - -"Friendship!" she repeated. Her tone roused him; he looked, and her -glance kindled his. "Only friendship?" she asked softly. - -"Oh!" he breathed, and caught her in his arms. - -Again came the cursed interruption of the jangling door-bell. "You shall -not go!" he said, holding her fast. She murmured, "I do not wish to." -They stood motionless, and heard the servant pass through the hall and -open the front door. They listened, ready to spring apart. - -"The Judge?" the servant asked. "Yes, in his study. This way." Again the -footsteps and the rustling skirt passed the door. The two in the parlour -waited until the door of the Judge's study opened and shut. Then Jim -lowered his head upon the one that nestled at his shoulder. - -"At last!" he whispered. And their lips met. - -But Beth was in the Judge's study. Behind his table sat the old man--no, -not so very old, in years only sixty, but he carried them ill. A life of -labour among books, a disappointment in his wife, made him seem ten -years older than he was. The Judge never exercised, was sometimes short -of breath and dizzy, but was at all times scornful of the wisdom of -doctors. His face was naturally stern, yet a smile came on it when he -saw Beth. He rose, adjusted a different pair of glasses, and then saw -the distress on her countenance. - -"Why, Beth!" he exclaimed. "Is anything wrong?" - -"Is Mr. Pease not here?" she asked in return. - -"Pease? No, he has not been here." - -"His cousin said," explained Beth, "that he was coming here. And so I -came at once, since you have no telephone. Father--oh, Judge Harmon, my -father has killed himself!" - -The Judge turned white. "Killed?" He put his hand to his breast. "My -dear child! My poor Beth! Killed himself? Oh, I am so sorry!" - -"There is nothing to do," said Beth with admirable calmness. "But he -left a letter directed to Mr. Mather and Mr. Pease." - -"Mr. Pease is not here," the Judge repeated, much distressed. "Let me -bring you home again.--But your Mr. Wayne was here earlier. Perhaps he -is still in the parlour with my wife." - -"Jim here?" cried Beth, springing to the door. "Oh, I hope he is!" -Hastily she left the study, sped along the hall, and parted the parlour -curtains. There were Jim and Mrs. Harmon, in the growing fierceness of -their first embrace. Beth saw how eagerly they strained together, and -heard their panting breaths. - -She stood still and made no sound, but her senses noted everything: -Jim's hand that pressed on Mrs. Harmon's shoulder, her closed eyes, her -hands linked behind his neck--and his sudden movement as he shifted his -arm, only to press her closer. And still that clinging kiss continued, -ecstatic, terrible. Beth could not move, could scarcely breathe, until -behind her rose the Judge's cracked and horror-stricken voice. - -"Lydia!" - -Hurriedly they disengaged and stood apart--moist lips, hot cheeks, and -burning eyes still giving evidence of their passion. Then Mrs. Harmon -dropped her face into her hands and turned away, but Jim gazed with -mounting shame into the eyes that met his--met while yet they showed -Beth's detestation of him. And the Judge stood quiet, his hand pressed -to his breast, his breath stopped, his head confused with the noises -that roared in his ears. - -At last Beth moved. Slowly she put her hands together; her eyes showed -more of indignation, less of loathing. She drew her hands apart and held -out to him the right--not with fingers upward, beckoning, but palm -downward, fingers closed together. Then she opened them. The golden -circlet fell, its diamond flashing; it bounded on the rug, and rolled; -it stopped at Mrs. Harmon's feet. She, looking downward through her -fingers, wondering at the silence, saw, and started away with a cry. - -Then Beth turned her back on Jim, and went away. The old Judge followed, -dazed, and the curtains fell behind them. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII - -IN WHICH JUDGE HARMON LEAVES THE STORY - - -The Judge opened the street-door for Beth, and seemed to be preparing to -follow her out. In spite of all she had gone through, perhaps because of -it, her mind was alive to little things, and she saw that he was dazed. -"You're not coming with me, sir? And without your coat?" - -"I was going with you, was I not?" he asked. "But I--I've forgotten. Can -you find your way alone?" - -"Oh, yes," she said. "You must not come. Go in, sir." As if -mechanically, he obeyed her, and shut the door. Beth went down the -steps. - -But the Judge seemed still confused. Slowly, very slowly he entered the -hall. He went to the great chair that stood opposite the parlour door, -and sat in it. His breath still came with difficulty, his head was -buzzing; he could not remember what had happened. Then, raising his -head, he looked through the portieres, which he and Beth had parted -slightly, into the parlour. He saw, he remembered, and his heart gave a -great leap in his breast. - -So long as they heard voices at the door, Mrs. Harmon and Jim had stood -listening. But when the indistinct tones ceased, and the door shut, they -looked at each other. - -"They've both gone!" Jim said. But they listened a moment longer. The -slow footsteps of the Judge, as he made his way over the heavy rugs, -were inaudible. Jim held his hands out to her again, but she pointed to -the ring upon the floor. - -"Trouble for you!" - -He picked up the ring. "Trouble for both of us," he responded gloomily. - -"Worst for you," she replied. "What shall you do?" - -"I don't know." - -"Oh!" and she stamped her foot. "How stupid of us! It was all, at last, -just as we wished it. It could have gone on, nobody knowing. Now--oh, I -am furious!" - -"You mean," he asked, "that you would have let it go on as we were?" - -"Yes." - -"Meeting only once in a while?" - -"Of course!" - -"And that would have satisfied you?" - -"Satisfied? No, Jim. But that would be all we could have." - -"Then I am glad we were seen!" he cried. "I couldn't have gone on that -way. Now we shall have to act." - -"Act? What do you mean?" - -"This," answered Jim. "Everything has got to stop for me, anyway. -I'm--I'm in trouble. Ellis----" and he stopped to curse. - -"Don't, don't!" she begged him. "Explain; I don't understand." - -"He led me into it," said Jim. "He suggested it all: how I could take -the money they send to the mill every Saturday for the men's pay, how I -could get my mother's power of attorney, and use her securities. I never -should have thought of it but for him--never!" - -"You mean," asked Mrs. Harmon, "that you have done those things?" - -"Yes," he replied. "I wanted to please you, to give you things, and have -money." - -She turned partly away from him, and stood looking down. Jim came to her -side. "But we don't care, do we, Lydia?" He put his hands on her -shoulders. - -She moved away quickly. "What do you mean?" - -"Ellis won't help me. Mather is after me. I've got to go away--go away -this very night. Lydia, come with me!" - -"Mr. Wayne," she began slowly. - -"No; call me Jim!" - -"You poor Jim, then. I can't do this." - -"Why?" he stammered. "I thought you loved me?" - -"So I do. So I will, if you'll stay here and let things go on as they -were." - -"Haven't I shown you I can't?" - -"It can be hushed up." - -"No, no!" he cried in despair. "And I can't face people; everybody will -know. Lydia, come with me!" He neared her again, stretching out his -arms; as she sought to avoid him, he strode to her side and caught her. -"Come, come! I can't give you up." He crushed her to him and began -kissing her eagerly. - -But she resisted with sudden energy. "Let me go! Shall I call the -servants?" He released her in astonishment; angrily she moved away from -him, smoothing her dress. "I believe you're a fool after all, as Mr. -Ellis said." - -"Lydia!" - -"I am Mrs. Harmon," she returned. "If you won't make a fight for -yourself, you're not the man I thought you. Go away, then, but not with -me." - -"Then you don't love me?" - -"Boy!" she said, growing scornful. "Love? What is love but -convenience?" - -"Oh," he cried, "come! You must come with me. See, I have money. Seven, -eight hundred, I think. That will last a long time. We can go somewhere; -I can get work; no one will find us." - -"And that," she asked, "is all you offer? Eight hundred dollars, and a -life in hiding!" - -He began to understand, this poor Jim, but it was too much to grasp all -at once. "You're fooling me, aren't you? Don't; I can't bear it. Say -you'll come with me!" Beseeching her with open arms, he went toward her -so eagerly that to avoid him she slipped around the table and went to -the door. Then as she looked back at him, awkwardly pursuing, she saw -him as she had never seen him before. He had rumpled his hair again: -none but a manly head looks well when mussed. His eyes were bloodshot, -his mouth open; she turned away in disgust, and looked into the hallway -to measure her retreat. - -There she saw her husband sitting, upright in his chair. With a sudden -movement she threw the curtains wide apart and revealed him to Jim. -"See," she said. "I have a protector. Now will you leave me?" - -A protector! Jim, at first startled, saw the open mouth, the glazing -eyes. He pointed, gasping; she saw and was frightened. In three steps -she was at her husband's side; she grasped his arm. He was dead! Then -she recovered herself. The doctor had said this might happen. - -"He is--is----" hesitated Jim. "Oh, come back here; shut it out!" - -"I shall call the servants," she answered. "You had better go." - -"Go? And you are free! Lydia," he cried in despair, "for the last time, -come with me!" - -Cold and steady, she returned the proper response. "And you ask me that -in his dead presence! Free, when his death claims my duty to him? Go -with you, when I should stay and mourn him?" - -Had she opened her breast and shown him a heart of stone, she could not -better have revealed her nature. It was to Jim as if the earth had -yawned before his feet, showing rottenness beneath its flowers. That eye -of ice, that hard mouth, those blasphemous words! Jim did not know, he -never could remember, how he got himself from the house. - -He fled by night from the pursuit that never was to be. Taking the New -York train, he lay in his berth, thinking, dozing, thinking again, while -the train sped through the darkness. He slept and dreamed of burning -kisses; he woke to feel the swaying of the car, to hear the whistle -scream, or, shutting out all other sounds, to strain his ears for noises -close at hand--the rustling of the curtains or the soft footfall of the -porter. He slept again, and from a nightmare in which a serpent coiled -about him, he came to himself in a quiet station, where steam hissed -steadily, where hurrying steps resounded, where trucks rumbled by, and -voices were heard giving orders. He looked from his berth along the -curtained aisle--what misery besides his own was hiding behind those -hangings? Then he dozed again with the motion of the train, and saw -Beth, far removed and wonderfully pure, looking down on him with horror; -his dream changed and Mrs. Harmon stood at his side, leading a walking -corpse. And then he started from sleep with a smothered shriek, and with -his thoughts urged the train to go faster, faster away from Beth, from -that temptress, from the friends he had betrayed and the mother whom he -had robbed. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII - -JUDITH BINDS HERSELF - - -Judith was alone, waiting for Mather, and wrestling with the question -which at the discovery of her father's body had rushed upon her. Was his -death her fault? - -Had she accepted Ellis, or had she recalled her refusal when her father -begged her, the Colonel would now be living. She might have guessed the -desperate resolve that he had taken. What would have been her duty, had -she understood? Or what should she have done, had he appealed to her? -And not understanding, not having foreseen, how much was her fault? - -There was here a chance for speculation to drive a weaker woman wild. -But Judith had not the nature to yield to such a danger. Essentially -combative, naturally active, her habit was to put the past behind, -accept the present, and look the future in the face. This instinct stood -by her now, and even though her shuddering mind still dwelt upon the -catastrophe, something within her called her to stand up, control -herself, look forward. And one more mental trait, which was in some -respects the great defect in her character--namely her almost masculine -fashion of judging herself and others--here stood her in good stead, and -served her by showing her father's action in the proper light. - -Though she perceived that she had led him into this entanglement, she -saw more. The Colonel had had not only his own but also his wife's -fortune: where had the money gone? Strong as were Judith's grief and -pity for him, abundantly as she acknowledged her part in his error, she -could not fail to see how selfish had been his actions, how cowardly -this desertion! - -But remembering her own great error, she could not blame. How deeply -they had both been at fault! She began to sympathise with the Colonel's -mistakes, to understand him better, to wish that in their relations they -had not been so aloof. He must have been many times in doubt, pain, the -deepest of trouble, and she had never suspected. Judith began to be -stirred by more daughterly feelings than since childhood; her grief and -pity grew stronger, unavailing regret seized her, and when George Mather -arrived he found her in tears. - -He had never imagined such a sight, nor had he met such sweet dignity as -that with which, controlling herself, she rose and welcomed him. She -told him of her father's death. Mather had not admired the Colonel; he -was not surprised at such a weak end; and while she spoke all his senses -dwelt on her--on the wonderful fresh charm, which, springing from the -new humility, made more of a woman of her. Stoically but stupidly he -paced the room, remembering that he was not there to consider himself, -but to do what he could for her. There were things which must be done; -as gently as he could he reminded her of them, and going to the -telephone called up the doctor and asked him to bring the medical -examiner. And while Mather did this, cursing himself that he could not -console her, all the time a new sensation was occupying her--the comfort -of having, for the first time in her life, a man to depend on. - -Then Beth arrived, with Pease who had met her in the street--Beth, wild -of eye, the very foundations of her nature shocked, in one evening twice -betrayed. The poor little thing still maintained a false composure, -checked from time to time the tears that would spring, and fought with -all her force against the thoughts which were ready to engulf her. She -went straight to Judith and rested at her side, feeling that there was -strength, and that with George in the house, and with Pease there, -silent and steady, no more harm could come to her. - -Judith sent the two men to her father's study, where they saw the -evidence of his one resolute deed. They took the letter, the result of -his only wise one. Again in the parlour, they opened and read the letter -together; their brows clouded as they read, and at the end their eyes -met in a look of inquiry. - -"Read it aloud," demanded Judith. - -"I think we had better," said Pease, and Mather assented. And so the -girls learned the full extent of their calamity, for with unusual -brevity the Colonel had written: - - "I have nothing left, not a stock nor a bond. The furniture is - mortgaged, so is the house; Ellis, through brokers I suppose, has - bought me up completely and threatens to turn me out on Monday. He - can do it; besides, I owe him fifteen thousand dollars. The girls - don't own anything but their clothes and knick-knacks, and Judith's - typewriter. - - "I don't see any way out of this, and I'm tired of thinking. You - two are young and clever; I turn the problem over to you. - - "Take care of my girls." - -And with these words the Colonel had handed his burden over to others. -Tears sprang to Beth's eyes as she understood. It was natural that even -so soon his selfishness should force itself to notice. Ah, if men could -but guide themselves by the consideration of what will be thought of -them after they are gone, how different would be their lives! Not the -religion man professes, nor even the love he actually bears, can teach -him to overcome caprice or to sink himself in others. Yet since it may -be that the punishment after death is to see ourselves as others see us, -let us not belabour the poor Colonel with words, but leave him in that -purgatory where the mirror of souls will teach self-understanding. - -Judith was stunned. The real meaning of her father's statements came -upon her like a blow, the room vanished from before her eyes, and she -clutched the arm of the sofa where she sat, to keep from falling. The -house mortgaged! The furniture pledged! And the great debt besides! The -calamity overpowered her. - -"Judith!" cried Mather in alarm. - -She groped with her hands before her face and cleared the mist away. "It -is nothing," she said. "I am--strong." - -"I hope," said Pease, "that you will let Mr. Mather and me assume your -father's trust." - -"Tell me this," Judith requested, trying to command her voice. "We have -no property at all--none at all. But there is that debt to Mr. Ellis. -What is my liability to him?" - -"Nothing whatever," Pease replied. - -"I do not understand," she said. "I--I am responsible. If the debt were -small, I should wish to earn the money to pay it. And though it is -large, I think I ought to try to do the same." - -"Impossible!" cried Pease. Judith listened while he protested and -explained, but the matter became no clearer. Her own great fault had -brought all this about: the debt was hers. She tried to make him -comprehend. - -"I----" she said, and faltered. "There are things you do not know." - -"Judith," began Mather, "first let me understand, Mr. Ellis broke with -your father?" - -"And with me," she added simply. - -"Then let me ask what object he had in lending money to your father?" - -"Oh, don't you see," she cried, "that only makes it worse? If I--led him -on, if on my account father supposed----It all comes back to me. It's my -fault, my fault!" She was almost wild. - -"But you did not know," he pointed out. "This debt cannot bind you." - -"It is all my fault," she repeated. - -"What does your sister think?" asked Pease. "What would Mr. Wayne say?" -He spoke with the hope of new influence; but Beth dissolved in sudden -tears, and holding out her hand, showed her finger bare of its ring and -red with the rubbing which all this time she had been giving it, to -remove even the mark of Jim's pledge. - -"Do not speak of him!" she sobbed. - -Judith gathered her in her arms; the men walked into the next room. As -Judith sought to comfort unhappy Beth she felt mounting in herself an -unknown tenderness. In this crisis all selfishness was impossible, all -worldliness was far from her thoughts. Her heart spoke naturally in -murmurings, softened the hand which gave the sweet caress, yet lent the -strength that held her sister to her breast. It was a blessed minute for -them both, for Judith learned new kindness, and Beth found, in place of -a reserved sister, one who seemed to have a mother's gentleness. And yet -their communion was brief, for the outer door--earlier left unlatched -for Beth's return--opened and then shut, steps were heard in the hall, -and a voice said inquiringly, "Colonel Blanchard?" It was Ellis! - -Judith rose quickly to her feet, dashing the tears from her eyes; Beth -also rose, astonished and alarmed. Scarcely had they made an attempt to -compose themselves before Ellis appeared in the doorway. He slowly -entered. - -"Excuse me," he said; "I did not ring because I was afraid you would not -receive me. I came to beg your pardon." - -"It is granted," Judith answered coldly. - -"I did not know what I was doing," he went on. "I--I hope we can go back -to where we were. No," as she made a gesture of denial, "hear me out. I -didn't mean what I said about the debt and mortgages--you know I did -not. Let the mortgages run. And two of your father's notes are overdue. -Look, I have written another to supersede them all, giving time for -payment. Let him sign this, and I destroy the others. Will you tell him -this?" He held out the note. - -Her eyes glowed as she took it. "Have you a pen?" He drew out a fountain -pen and gave it to her. - -"What are you doing?" asked Beth, alarmed. - -"I will sign it," Judith answered. - -"You?" Ellis cried. - -"My father is dead," she replied. Quickly she went to the table and -cleared a space at its corner. - -"Judith!" protested Beth. But Judith's eyes were bright with excitement, -and she did not hear. Beth turned and sped into the adjoining room. -Astonished, yet holding himself quiet, Ellis listened to the scratching -of the pen, and watched Judith's eager face as she signed the note. She -gave it to him, with the pen. - -"There!" she said, in the tone of one who has fulfilled a duty. - -Then Mather entered, too late. Ellis had torn the Colonel's notes and -handed them to Judith. "What have you done?" Mather cried. - -She faced him proudly. "I have assumed my father's debt." - -To Pease, who had followed him, Mather cast one look of impotence; then -he strode to the promoter's side. - -"Mr. Ellis, give me the note!" - -But Ellis put it in his pocket. "It is mine." - -"I will pledge myself for it," offered Mather, "at what terms you -please." - -"It is not for sale," said Ellis doggedly. - -"I will bring cash for it on Monday." - -"Thank you," sneered Ellis, "but I mean to keep it." - -"Mr. Ellis," Mather cried, "on what terms will you part with the note?" - -"I will part with it," he replied, "only to Miss Blanchard herself, as -you must admit is proper, and the terms I will arrange with her alone." - -He looked his defiance into Mather's face. The tense and shaking figure -of his rival towered above him, and Pease started forward to prevent a -blow. But Mather controlled himself and pointed to the door. "Go!" - -Ellis bowed to the sisters. "Good-night." No one made answer as he went -away. - - * * * * * - -Beth, exhausted, was asleep at last; Judith sat by her side. The medical -examiner had come and gone, her father lay in peace, and the house was -quiet. Downstairs Mather was watching: he had offered to stay; Beth had -begged that he might. Judith would not allow her thoughts to dwell on -him, or on the comfort of his neighbourhood. She would not think of -Ellis, nor of those obligations, the extent of which she did not -understand. Of her father she did not dare to think except to promise to -take his place toward Beth, and to pay his debt even if the struggle -should bring her to face the world's worst. Yet no fear troubled her, -for a new self, an awakening soul, was stirring within her, calling for -contrition, self-examination, and for new resolves. Musing and -confessing her faults, Judith went to the window and looked up at the -stars; through them she looked into the unalterable and true. She had -been wrong; she understood the falseness of her standards. Then she saw -more, and awe began to come over her as she perceived so much where once -had appeared so little. Life held love: her sister was left to her. Life -held duty, and work to be accomplished. That work called her. - -Yet how different it was from what she had expected! She had desired to -mix with affairs; now in truth she would become part of them, but only -as a wheel in the great machine. She was not disappointed nor dismayed. -Seen thus near at hand, life had rewards, giving vigour, not ennui; and -giving reality, not that artificiality of the past. She did not regret, -for she saw greater heights to the new life which she faced than to the -one dead level of the old conception. - -It was also new to Judith that without reasoning she felt all this, and -knew, as never before. She would give herself to this wonderful life, -would follow it to whatever end was waiting for her, confident that, -having acted right, that end could not be evil. And so feeling, her -heart moved within her, again to her eyes came the tears, and another of -those barriers melted away which stood between Judith and her true -womanhood. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX - -KNOWLEDGE OF NEW THINGS - - -While the Colonel lay unburied his house was unchanged. His daughters -talked over their plans, and settled it between them, to the dismay of -their new guardians, that Judith was to become a stenographer, Beth a -governess. On the third day the fashionable part of Stirling showed as -much interest as was permitted in the two funerals which took place at -the same hour. The services for the Colonel were private, no flowers -were sent, and a single carriage brought the mourners to the grave. On -their way they passed the church where the body of the Judge, as became -his high position and his wife's love of display, was having almost a -state funeral, and where a curious throng waited at the door to see the -people who should fill the score of waiting carriages. And so the Judge -went to his rest much honoured, and the journals wrote about him; but -the poor Colonel travelled simply to the cemetery, and only his -daughters, Pease, and Mather, stood beside his grave. George remained to -watch the filling-in; the others returned home, now home no -longer--Judith could not regard it so. - -"To-morrow," she said suddenly to her two companions in the carriage, "I -shall begin to look for a boarding-house." - -Beth gave her a startled glance, but said nothing. Pease answered, "We -must talk it over." Even in the hurry and distress of their recent -relations, Judith had learned to understand him so well that she knew -that his reply meant opposition. Pease was something new to her; she -liked his deliberation, and was beginning to appreciate his force. When, -arriving at the house, she found Miss Cynthia there, Judith knew that -some plan had been made between them. - -Miss Cynthia proposed it at once: the sisters should come to live with -her. "You shall have a room apiece," she said. "You shall do exactly as -you please. And there is nothing else for you to do." - -"I knew," said Judith, "that our friends would think we oughtn't board." - -"It isn't that," replied Miss Cynthia. "I say you can't. Next Monday -this house and furniture are to be given over to Mr. Ellis. My dear -girl, you haven't a penny to your name!" - -Perhaps the brusque reply was merciful, as it swept away all grounds for -argument. "Take Beth," Judith answered, "but there is no reason why you -should help me. Let me go out and earn my living." - -"I mean to take Beth," was the determined answer. "And I claim the -chance to know you better." - -"Judith," cried Beth tearfully, "would you go away from me?" - -And Pease put in his argument. "You are not able to earn money yet. You -must stay somewhere while you study." - -"So," asked Judith, "all this has been talked over between you?" - -Pease answered by giving her a note from Mather. "I hope," it read, -"that for Beth's sake you will accept Miss Pease's offer." For Beth's -sake! Judith looked at Beth, then at the other two, both prepared for -battle, and yielded. - -"I think," was Miss Pease's sole remark, "that you are wise." Her -manner implied a threat withdrawn, much as if, had not Judith agreed, -she would have been carried off by force. - -In three days more the house was vacated, and was surrendered to Ellis. -When Pease and Mather had adjusted the Colonel's accounts, some few -dollars were remaining to his estate, only to be swallowed up by the -outstanding bills, the most significant of which was the account for the -Japanese knife. And so the two girls, whose small savings had gone to -buy their mourning, were left almost literally without a cent. - -Thus Judith began the world anew on the charity of friends, telling -herself that she must submit for the sake of accomplishing. She took her -place at the side of Pease's table with the air of still presiding at -her own, and Mather, coming in the evening, noted her bearing and -groaned in spirit. He explained that he had come to see if the moving -were successful. "Three trunks between us," said Judith. "Did you think -the undertaking was very great?" - -"There is your typewriter," he reminded her. - -But she would have no jesting. "My one really valuable asset. And now -you must tell me, George, where I should go to school. To what business -college, I mean?" - -For in spite of all protests, the sisters were preparing to work. From -their old school-books they had saved those which might still be of -service, and on the morrow Beth was to begin with her geography and -arithmetic. - -"It will be very unpleasant," Mather said, "going to a commercial -school. Look here, there is a little girl in my office--you saw her at -Chebasset--who can come and teach you, evenings." - -"And my days?" she returned. "I am not afraid of the unpleasantness." - -So he sighed and advised her. She appreciated that he had inquired into -the standing of the schools, and could tell which was the best. The -tuition was expensive, but there was a scheme by which scholars might -pay out of future wages. - -"And so I go deeper into debt before I can begin to earn for my fifteen -thousand dollars?" - -"Judith," he said, "let your friends make up that sum and relieve you of -all relations with Ellis." - -"Mr. Pease and you?" she asked. - -"And Mr. Fenno. Excuse me for telling him; he had learned something of -it from Beth." - -"He is very kind," said Judith. "So are you all, but the debt would -remain." - -"Ellis can annoy you," he reminded her. - -"Then let me bear it as a punishment. It may help me to make something -of myself." - -"How many years," he demanded, "do you mean to keep this up?" - -"Forever, if necessary," she returned, but then spoke softly. "George, -don't be vexed with me. What else can I do?" - -She was earnest; he saw there no other way for her. "Let me help, then," -he said, and told her more about the school. In her questions and -comments he saw her interest in the future, her curiosity as to the life -she was about to lead. In spite of all that had passed, in spite of the -new deceptive softness, the old idea still held and ruled her: she would -be in touch with things, would know what was going on in the world. - -In her new home, little lessons began to come to Judith. Pease was a -revelation of kindliness and ability--a contradiction. That such -simplicity could cover such power, that he could set up an inflexible -opinion against hers and yet be embarrassed in her presence, was -strange, yet very pleasing. Miss Cynthia with her violent manners was -another source of knowledge, for this odd person was a woman of the -world; she had experience and importance; she corresponded with -philanthropists, and people of note came to see her. And Judith gained -from her this lesson: that from a quiet home one may extend a wide -influence, and be of the world while not at all times in it. Thus the -two Peases, with their individuality, did much to show Judith that there -was force still remaining in the old families which she had rated so -low. She grew to have a little fear of Miss Pease, with her searching -questions and blunt comments, lest she should inquire into Judith's -interest in Ellis, and with that cutting tongue lay bare her folly. And -yet at the same time Judith took comfort in Miss Cynthia, who upheld her -in her plans. Miss Cynthia had worked for her living, and declared that -it did a woman good. - -But the strongest new influence on Judith was in her relations with -Beth. Judith had always recognised Beth's strength. A feminine -fortitude, not disdaining tears; a perception of worldly values which -Judith was coming to see was clearer than her own; steadfastness and -charity: these were the qualities which had brought Beth through the -recent crisis with less actual change than in her sister. And Judith, -beginning to admire in Beth the traits which previously she had merely -noted, found also a great comfort in her sister's girlishness, a solace -in her softer nature which was to Judith the beginning of the -possibilities of friendship. - -For, save with Ellis, Judith had never spoken freely, and with him but -little. At the same time she had never been lonely, turning from -friends. Yet in this changed life she took pleasure in Beth's nearness, -interested herself in her doings, and invited her confidences. She grew -jealous lest Miss Cynthia, so long Beth's friend, should take the place -which belonged to her; and so by gentleness Judith won from Beth the -story which weighed on her mind. - -It was one evening when the sisters had gone up-stairs; Judith went into -Beth's room. Beth, with her sadness so well controlled, seemed sweeter -than she had ever been. She had grown pale over her books. "If you go to -your school," she said when Judith remonstrated with her, "why shouldn't -I work, too?" But she was often weary at the end of the day, and seemed -so now. - -"Beth," said Judith, "I saw Mrs. Wayne to-day. She was looking better. -George has found a buyer for her house, and she is going to live with -some cousins." - -"I am very glad that is settled so well," answered Beth, and then asked -with hesitation: "Has anything been heard from--Jim?" - -"Nothing," replied Judith. "Beth, are you worrying about him?" - -"No," Beth said. "I--I am sorry for him, but----" She looked up. "Oh, -Judith, I want to speak to some one about it. There is a part of it that -no one knows. May I tell you?" - -Judith knelt at her side. "Tell me, dear?" she begged. - -Beth, clasping Judith's hand and feeling the comfort of her sympathy, -told the story of that meeting at the Judge's--told the whole of it. Had -she done right in giving back the ring? - -Judith assured her that she had. - -"That is not all," said Beth. "I thought that I gave it back because he -had been--untrue, yet that I loved him just the same. But, Judith, I -have been thinking--you have seen me thinking?" - -"Yes, dear," Judith answered. "What have you thought?" - -Beth pressed her hands. "You must tell me if I am right. For I seem -almost hard-hearted, sometimes. Judith, why did the Judge die?" - -Judith looked at her with startled eyes. "It killed him!" - -Beth nodded solemnly. "_It_ killed him, or did--they!" - -"They!" Judith cried. - -"But she most," went on Beth, looking straight in front of her. -"Sometimes I think I understand it, Judith. It wasn't sudden; it must -have been going on for some time. I went to see Mrs. Wayne that once, -you remember, after it all happened. She doesn't blame Jim; she took me -up into his room: it was just as it was that night, with his bed opened -for him. And she cried there. But I looked on the bureau, Judith, and -saw pictures of--her." - -"Of Mrs. Harmon?" - -"Yes. And one almost covered the one he had of me. Judith, he hadn't -come to this all of a sudden? Tell me, for I don't want to misjudge -him." - -"I have seen him with her," answered Judith. "Once I saw them at the -theater door, going out together." The coincidence made itself clearer. -"That was the day you and he went; I supposed you were behind." - -"We--he--it was my fault," said Beth. "I went away from the play, and he -left me, angry. He must have met her and gone with her. And at other -times, when I knew he was not at Chebasset, and expected him to come to -me, and he didn't--do you suppose he was with her?" - -"I'm afraid so." - -"And that kiss," said Beth, shuddering. "It was so eager--fierce! It -wasn't just flirting. He--he preferred her to me." - -"Beth, dear!" murmured Judith, soothing her. - -"He was--weak," went on Beth. "I suppose I always knew it, but I -wouldn't admit it. So weak that she--I want to be charitable, but I -think she led him away from me." - -"I am afraid she did, dear." - -"I forgive him," said Beth, struggling to pursue her thought to the end. -"Of course you know that, Judith. But I was fond of the Judge, and he -died from--it. And Jim was--false to me, and" (Judith felt the little -form begin to quiver) "even his dishonesty was not for me but for--her, -because Mr. Price sent Mrs. Wayne a great bill for expensive jewels, and -she asked me if--if I'd give them back, and I had to say that he--hadn't -given me any!" - -"Beth, dear!" cried Judith, clasping the quivering form. "Beth, be -brave!" - -"I will," said Beth, struggling heroically. "But as I've thought it out -by myself----" - -"Oh, you've been all alone!" cried Judith, reproaching herself. "Why -didn't I understand?" - -"I had to think it out," Beth said. "I think I see it clearly now, -Judith, and I know myself better, and I'm--ashamed of myself that I'm so -selfish, but I think that I--don't love him--any more!" - -Tears came to her relief, and she clung to her sister, shaken with sobs. -Judith wept with her; for them both that was a blessed hour. Long after -others were abed their murmured conference lasted, for Beth needed to be -told, over and over again, that she had done right, and felt right, and -Judith was glad of it. - -Thus new feelings grew in Judith, stronger for her contact with the -outside world. For the school was disagreeable and humiliating. She had -to go back to the rudiments of knowledge; she had to do examples and -find them wrong. Her teachers were unpleasant, her fellow-pupils coarse -and inquisitive. The many little daily rubs commenced to tell on her; -her cheeks lost colour, her step something of its vigour, and she began -to look upon the outer world as something with power to do her still -more harm. - -Yet to it she presented a haughty front, as one person found. Mrs. -Harmon came to call, an interesting widow, dressed in her new mourning. -It was late in the afternoon; the day had gone hard with Judith, she had -forgotten to eat luncheon, and since her return from the school had been -sitting over her "home lessons," wretched tasks which called her to make -up the accounts of a certain Mr. Y----, and also to calculate the -interest on notes at four, five, and seven and a half per cent. for -periods of from twelve to a hundred days. Her answers would not agree -with those in the book. But faint and discouraged as she was, her eyes -grew bright as she saw Mrs. Harmon's card, and she walked into the -parlour with the air of a grenadier. - -"Why, Judith, child," said Mrs. Harmon, rising, "how changed you look! I -am so glad I came to comfort you." - -"And I am glad you came," Judith returned. "I have been wishing to see -you." - -"You have been lonesome, dear?" - -"To thank you," pursued Judith steadily, "for the service you did my -sister, in ridding her of Mr. Wayne." - -Very fortunately, after the two had remained looking at each other for a -quarter of a minute, while Mrs. Harmon grew very red in the face and -Judith remained unchanged, Miss Cynthia suddenly entered the room. - -"Oh, I beg your pardon," she said, halting. "I didn't know that any one -was here." - -"You didn't disturb us," Judith answered. "Mrs. Harmon was just going." - -Mrs. Harmon, looking as if she would burst if she attempted to speak, -could only bow with an attempt at frigidity, quite spoiled by the -visible heat which was almost smothering her, and departed with -suddenness. Miss Cynthia, never surprised at people's actions, looked at -Judith, whose cheeks were very pale, while her eyes had lost their fire. - -"I suppose I've insulted her," said Judith. - -"I hope you have," Miss Cynthia answered. But watching Judith intently, -she suddenly seized her by the arm, forced her to the sofa, forbade her -to stir, and sent for tea. It was a sign of change that Judith took the -ministration passively. - -Yet her growing weariness was not to be relieved by a short rest or a -cup of tea. Her nerves kept her at work, driving her at forced draught, -which for long at a time is good for neither machinery nor man. Mather -came that evening, and was led into the parlour by Beth, but his eyes -sought for Judith in vain. "Where is she?" he demanded. - -"She's in the dining-room," Beth said. "This evening it's her shorthand; -she's expanding her notes." - -"And she wouldn't want to see me?" - -"She _needs_ company." - -He looked at her, trying to read her meaning; she smiled and tossed her -head. "Beth is beginning to look better," he thought, and remembered -that she had never asked him for news of Jim. Then her expression -changed as a step was heard in the hall; it was Pease coming, -plantigrade and slow. "Is that it?" thought Mather. - -"I think I'll go and see Judith," he said, and passed Pease at the door. - -Judith was in the dining-room, bending over her note-book. Scattered -sheets lay on the table before her; her hair had in places escaped from -its confinement and strayed over forehead and nape. He saw the fatigue -in her eyes as she raised them. - -"I'm all mixed up," she said. - -He drew up a chair and sat down. "So I should think. How any one reads -shorthand I don't see." He took the note-book. "It seems well done." - -"Sometimes I write it correctly," she said, "and then can't read it. -Sometimes I could read it if I had only written it right. To-day the man -read very fast, on purpose, and I lost some of it." - -"I think," he said, "that if you could at times forget your work, you -would come back to it fresher." - -"I can't forget it," she replied. "Sometimes I dream of it." - -"We'll have you sick on our hands," he warned her. "Don't lecture, -George," she answered. "Give me the book." - -He watched her for a while as she translated her hieroglyphs; she kept -at it doggedly. "Good-night," he said at last. She looked up to respond, -smiled mechanically, and turned to her work before he was out of the -room. He went to the parlour and stood anxiously before Beth and Pease. - -"You'll have her breaking down," he said. - -"There is nothing we can do," Beth answered. "She will keep at it." - -"I've warned you," he responded, and took his hat. He was at the front -door, when from the dining-room Judith called him to her. "George," she -asked, "is six per cent. the legal rate of interest?" - -"In this State it is," he answered. - -"Then my note to Mr. Ellis is rolling up interest at nine hundred a -year?" - -"I suppose so." - -"Can I ever earn as much?" - -"With experience you can." - -"And I must earn much more in order to pay anything on the principal?" - -"Yes." - -She put her hands together in her lap. "I am learning something." As he -stood and looked at her, he saw two tears roll out upon her cheeks. - -"Judith!" he cried, striding toward her. - -But she rose quickly, putting out a hand to keep him away. "I am only -tired," she said. "I'm sorry not to be better company. Good-night, -George." - -He stopped instantly, said "Good-night," and went away. Then suddenly -she felt forlorn, and more tears came into her eyes. "He would not have -gone if he loved me still." - - - - -CHAPTER XXX - -TIME BEGINS HIS REVENGES - - -Political and social undercurrents were slowly working to the surface in -the world of Stirling. Though it was barely spring, the mayoralty -campaign was well under way, promising a close struggle in the fall. A -more immediate matter was the threatened strike, which the men's leaders -were urging in the hope that the approaching annual meeting of the -stockholders of the street-railway might bring some relief. In these -affairs the attitude of Ellis was of importance. - -The newspapers called him the Sphinx, since he gave no sign of his -purposes. In politics, of course, it was to be assumed that he was on -the side of the machine. But against the strike he might take a variety -of courses, with a variety of results, all of which were, by the -speculative, mapped and calculated in advance. He might yield and avoid -the strike, he might defy it, or at the last minute he might by some -sudden action entirely change the aspect of affairs and bring himself -profit and credit. Just how this last could be done no one seemed to be -sure, but since from day to day matters were growing worse and Ellis -made no move, it was confidently stated that he had "something up his -sleeve." - -Otherwise there was no explaining his conduct. His opponents did not -dare to believe that he was blinded by self-confidence, and yet his own -followers, trust him as they might, were uneasy. His manner showed a -steady, almost savage determination to win, and yet he did not "tend to -business." There were days when he was absent from his office -altogether, refusing to talk with his subordinates except by -telephone--and they hated to discuss plans except within four walls. -There was even one day when he disappeared altogether, just when the -Stirling representatives had come down from the State capital to confer -with him on the street-railway bill, the prospects of which, on account -of the clause conferring eminent domain, were none too bright. Ellis, -when at last his men found him in the evening, said only that he had -been at Chebasset. Moreover, his men got little out of him: with an odd -new gleam in his eye, he merely listened as they spoke; he gave no -directions, and when they begged him to run up to the capital and lobby -for himself he thanked them and said he'd think it over. Feeling their -journey to have been for nothing, they left him, grumbling among -themselves. Something seemed wrong with him. - -Something was wrong with him. A man with a pain gnawing at his heart and -a ghost always before his eyes cannot attend to his work. It was not the -Colonel's ghost that dogged Ellis: he never troubled for his part in -Blanchard's death. Judith, splendid in cold anger, haunted him. She -spoiled his sleep, she came between him and his work, she tormented him -by the vision of what he had lost. There was a steady drain upon him, as -from an unhealed wound--or from that inward bleeding which, on the very -first day of their acquaintance, he had felt on leaving her. No, he was -not himself; his mind was confused, his energies wasted, by the constant -alternation of anger and despair. - -When realisation swept upon him suddenly, then he shut himself up, -refused himself to all, and fought his fury until he had controlled it. -That day when he went to Chebasset he had not intended to go, but on -his way to his office there suddenly rushed over him the sense of his -loss. Possessed by the thought, he took the train to Chebasset and -wandered half the day among his grounds, tormenting himself by the -recollection that these drives, walks, shrubberies were laid out for -Judith, and now she would never live among them. When he took out of his -pocket a slip of paper bearing her signature and told himself that she -was in his power--in his power!--he found no pleasure in the thought. - -In the evening he had not cast off his mood, and when he met his men, -sent them away dissatisfied. One, bolder or more foolhardy than the -others, lingered a moment. "Say," he asked, "what's wrong?" - -"Nothing," answered Ellis. - -"Honest I'm telling you," said his henchman, "a strike will kill the -bill. And the men on the road are getting ugly." - -"Thanks," Ellis replied impatiently. The glow in his eyes suddenly -became fierce, and the man took himself off. - -All this was extremely irritating to Ellis; he felt more angry with his -own men than with his opponents, and was ready to punish them for -insubordination without considering the cause of their alarm. It was -unfortunate for Mr. Price that he chose to come to Ellis just after his -legislators had left him. Price wore the same uneasy air. - -"Now, what are you worried about?" Ellis began on him. - -It was his street-railway stock, Price explained. The quotations were so -continually dropping---- - -"Only fifteen dollars!" Ellis interrupted scornfully. - -"Yes," agreed Price, "but they will soon be down again to where I bought -them." - -"Bought?" sneered Ellis. "_Bought!_" - -"Well----" hesitated Price. - -"What is it to you," demanded Ellis in jarring tones, "where the price -of the stock is, up or down? It cost you nothing, it pays you well, it's -a sure thing. Just you hold it and send me your proxies." - -"But," suggested Price, very much brow-beaten, yet endeavouring to say -what he came for, "if it's such a good thing, won't you, perhaps, take -it?" - -"What!" rasped Ellis. "My God, Price, haven't you the decency to sit -still and say nothing?" - -"Oh, well," mumbled the jeweller, writhing, "if the stock is so -sure--you're sure it's solid?" - -"Certainly," Ellis said. "Price, don't be an ass! The other side is just -selling itself a share or two, every little while, to make the -impression that the value is falling. Don't you be taken in." - -"Oh, if that's all!" breathed Price, much relieved. He took his hat. - -"There, run along," said Ellis. "You know who are your best friends." He -spoke as if directing a child, and Price went away with an irritated -sense of his own impotence and meanness. - -But Ellis found no relief in scolding his dependents. He missed -something; he knew that he needed a place where he might sit quiet and -forget the grind and grime of his affairs. The best that was left to him -was Mrs. Harmon, but she never could equal Judith, and when he went to -see her now she bothered him with her advice. - -"I wanted to see you," were her first words. "I have been thinking of -telephoning you." - -"What is it now?" he asked drearily. - -"Stephen," she demanded with energy, "do you realise what is going on? -They are all organising against you." - -"What can they do?" he snarled. - -"Your own men are frightened," she said. "Two of them came to me -to-day--no, I won't tell their names. They begged me to tell you there -mustn't be a strike. You'll lose your bill, your mayor will be defeated. -Can't you see that?" - -"No!" he returned. - -"The papers are all calling for Mather as street-railway president," she -went on. "The men say they would never strike under him. It's all very -well for you to say that the travelling public must take what you give -them, but people won't----" - -"Lydia," he interrupted, "it's very good of you to be interested in my -position, but suppose you give your time to your own. It needs it bad -enough." - -He touched a sore, for Judge Harmon's old friends, remembering his -disappointment in his wife, were dropping her. She was irritated, and -snapped in return. "You look very badly," she said critically. "Just for -a girl, Stephen?" - -He glared at her so furiously, at a loss for speech, that she was -frightened and begged his pardon. Yet after she had given him tea she -returned again to the charge. - -"You said, Stephen, that you control a majority of shareholders' votes. -You aren't afraid that some of your men will sell out to the other side? -I see the stock is down." - -"But is it traded in?" he asked. "Only a share or two. You are like -Price; he came whimpering to me yesterday about his fifty shares." - -"But the balance is pretty even, isn't it?" she inquired. "Mightn't -fifty shares just make the whole difference?" - -"If you mean whether Price would sell me out," he answered. "He never -bought his shares. They came to him through me. He's tied to me." - -"I don't see how?" she said doubtfully. "He's not in politics now; he's -independent, and he gets his money from the upper people--the other side -entirely. But I suppose you know. Still, I wish Abiel had never sold his -stock." - -"Don't worry," he commanded. "Confound it, I have to supply courage to -the whole of you." - -His men had need of his courage as day by day matters drifted nearer to -a crisis and they saw their enemies organising. Those nervous and eager -persons, the reform politicians, had long talks with the men of money, -who were not now averse to giving them interviews. The men of money -talked together, and the newspapers claimed that at last, after almost a -generation, the society leaders were to take a hand in politics. As -several of the reformers held railway stock, and as the fashionables -could (if they chose) muster many votes for the election, their alliance -against Ellis might prove formidable. The reformers grew more cheerful, -old Mr. Fenno more grim, Pease more thoughtful as the days went by. The -time was near for the annual meeting of the street-railway shareholders, -and the strike, if it came at all, would come before that. The whole -city was intent upon the event. - -And Judith, tired as she was, roused to watch the struggle. Was her -sluggish class waking at last? Was Ellis at bay? Was Mather to come -forward and lead? Judith read the newspapers, but gleaned only such -statements as: "Mr. Fenno and Mr. Branderson at last control a majority -of street-railroad votes," or "Mr. Watson has added largely to his -holdings of street-railway stock." She knew these reports could not be -true: the stock was tied fast long ago, and Ellis would take every -pains to maintain his supremacy. But Mather would explain to her the -condition of affairs. - -Yet he came seldom to the house. She knew that his mind was occupied, he -was interviewed and pestered on all hands. Day by day she read in the -papers: "Mr. Mather refuses to make any statement." But he might speak -to her. His only desire, when he came to call, appeared to be to throw -off every care save for her health. She did not like to broach the -important topic, yet with repression her interest grew, and she felt -deeply disappointed when, the opportunity being given to speak upon it, -he was reserved. - -He met her in a street-car, and sat by her side. When the conductor came -for his fare Mather nodded to him and called him by name. "Good-day, -Wilson." - -"I've taken Mr. Ellis's fare every day for two years," said the man, -"yet I don't think he knows me by sight. Ah, Mr. Mather, if we only had -you back there wouldn't be no strike." - -Mather smiled. "We were all good friends in those days." - -The man went away, and Judith asked as much as she dared. "How does it -seem to be so in demand?" - -"I'm not so sure how much in demand I am," he replied, and then spoke of -other things. - -She thought that he was avoiding the subject, and told herself that he -did not need her any more. Far away were those days when he sought her -advice--and this thought made her sigh occasionally over her work. The -tasks grew harder as she felt herself left out; she became eager to do -more than merely study, feeling that, with so much going on around her, -she was nothing. - -One night when Mather came he spoke for a while with Pease privately, -then hurried away without waiting to see the others. Judith had put her -books away; now she took them again, and went into the dining-room to -work. But she could not fix her mind on her figures, and after a while -she said aloud in the room: "A month ago when he came to see me I would -not stop work to speak with him. Now when he comes I put away my books, -but he does not wait." - -Then she heard Pease speaking with Beth in the parlour, and heard -George's name coupled with Ellis's. So Beth was learning all about the -plans! Smothering a sudden jealousy, Judith determined to go and ask -what had been said, yet at the door her resolution failed her, and she -turned back. Let others know, she would go without--and she applied -herself to her figures until her head swam with them. She went unhappily -to bed and lay there thinking. - -Through her loneliness was rising a dread of Ellis as an overhanging -menace; she began to fear that he would defeat Mather a second time. -Ellis's sinister force began to oppress her, not only as a cause of -general evil, but also as threatening disaster to that friend whose -value, even whose excellence, her anxieties were teaching her to -acknowledge. As Judith's thoughts dwelt on the man in whom, without -brilliance or the stamp of genius, there was nothing false, nothing base -or mean, and nothing hidden, Ellis seemed like an enemy who, once -successful against herself, was slowly approaching for an attack on -Mather--an enemy whose skill she knew, whose resources she feared, and -whose mercy she doubted. Dreading thus for Mather, she began to tremble -also for herself: she was in Ellis's debt so deep that only a miracle -could ever clear her, while every day was rolling up the interest -against her. Where would this end? - -And through her dread increased her loneliness. Looking for help, she -found that she must depend solely upon herself. Day by day she had -learned how small were her powers beside the immense energies of the -city. The definite fear of Ellis suggested still other calamities, -vague, hid in the impenetrable future; there was no misfortune which -fate could not bring upon her, no defense which she could interpose. She -was alone--and suddenly she began to long for companionship, the -fellowship which some one could give, which some one once offered, which -then she had refused, but which now seemed more precious than anything -in the world. - -Thus Judith, in her trouble, was unmindful of the power which still was -hers, and ignorant of the revenge which she was to take for all of her -misfortunes. For though she felt herself so weak, it was she, and she -alone, who brought on Ellis the strike which his supporters were so -anxious to prevent. - -On a morning, the consequences of whose events were to reach far, going -as usual to her school she passed Ellis in the street. Faltering and -shocked, he stood still while she passed. He had not seen her since the -night of her rejection of him, and the change in her was startling. She -was in black, had grown thin and pale, and her spirited carriage had -changed to the walk of weariness, yet her beauty of face shone out the -clearer, and still she was a picture which men turned to watch. She did -not notice Ellis, but passed with face set, eyes looking far away, -absorbed in thought. When she had gone from his sight Ellis hurried to -his offices and locked himself in the inner room. There for an hour he -walked up and down, up and down. - -His clerk heard him, and dared not interrupt him for small matters; the -routine business of the morning was easily discharged. But about noon -came a deputation from the street-railway employees, asking to see Mr. -Ellis. - -The secretary listened at the door; Ellis was still pacing the room, yet -the matter was important. The secretary knocked. - -"Men from the union to see you," he said through the door. - -"Tell them to come again," answered Ellis. - -The secretary went with this answer to the deputation. The spokesman -answered: "We have wasted enough time. We must see him now or not at -all." - -The secretary knocked again at Ellis's door. "They say they must see you -now, sir," he said. - -"Send them to the devil," Ellis replied. The secretary, without thought -of the irony of his interpretation of the order, asked the men to wait. -They consulted among themselves and went away. - -That morning the cars on the streets had run as usual, but the delegates -of the union, returning angrily from Ellis's office, gave the order for -the men to strike. As each car returned to the barn its crew left; by -one o'clock almost all the cars were housed. Then the supporters of -Ellis began to gather in his outer office. Price was there, Daggett was -there, a dozen others as well; they consulted anxiously. Not one of them -had expected that Ellis would let the trouble go so far. - -At last, with pale face and fierce eye, he appeared among them. "Ha," he -said sardonically when he saw so many of them. "What has frightened you -all?" - -They told him of the strike; there was still one day, they reminded him, -before the transfer books of the road should close. Some of his men -thought he was staggered at the news, and the hastier, Price loudest -among them, begged him to conciliate the men. - -But the old fighting fire kindled within him, and he stopped them with -scorn. "Don't be fools," he said. "Price, you're a coward. The men will -hit first, will they? Well, we'll give them all they want!" - -He began to give directions how to meet the strike, and his energy was -communicated to them all, save one. Even that one applauded with the -rest, and outwardly approved. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXI - -BRINGS ABOUT TWO NEW COMBINATIONS - - -For some time Beth Blanchard had been changing back to her old self. -Once unburdened by confession, her heart seemed free again, and Beth -began to think of Jim Wayne as a part of a past which could in no way -affect her future. Sorry for him as she was, with her pity she mingled -shame at those remembered kisses. She found pleasure in the society of -Pease, partly because he stood for so much that Jim was not. Solid, -sober, incapable of concealment, his qualities gave her satisfaction, -and the more because she knew his thoughts to be so much of her. She -took to teasing him again, a process to which he submitted with -bewildered delight, and to which Miss Cynthia made Judith a party by -getting her out of the room whenever Beth and Pease were in it. Under -such favouring circumstances, which would have tried the stoicism of any -one, Pease was proving himself quite human, and was harbouring new -hopes. He could not fail to suspect that Beth mourned her father more -than Jim, and what he imagined Miss Pease made sure. - -"You've never told me, Peveril," she asked him, "if you lost much by Mr. -Wayne?" - -"Two weeks' wages of our men," he answered. - -"Worth what you get for it?" she asked. - -"What do I get?" he inquired. - -"Her!" she answered emphatically. - -"If you suppose," he said, with an appearance of confidence which was -utterly false, "that Miss Blanchard will forget Mr. Wayne, you are quite -mistaken." - -"You are right," said Miss Cynthia, "she never will forget him." Her -cousin's heart sank. "She thinks of him every day" (Miss Cynthia was -watching him, and made a purposeful pause) "as something that she has -escaped from. And _now_ the way is open for a man that is a man!" Then -she smiled as she noted his relief. - -The way was indeed open, and the two were progressing along it very -fast, when suddenly a position was offered to Beth. Old Mrs. Grimstone -had, for the twelfth time, lost her attendant, and some one recommended -the younger Miss Blanchard. It was a handsome offer that the old lady -made; money was nothing to her, and she had learned that she must pay -high for such service as she demanded. For she was, notoriously, the -most exacting, crabbed, fractious old woman that ever wore false teeth, -and any one who attended her lived a dog's life. Pease was utterly -dismayed, and came to Judith to beg her to prevent this calamity. - -"But what can I do?" she asked. "Mrs. Grimstone offers a hundred dollars -a month--much more than any one else ever pays. How can Beth refuse?" - -"Think," Pease adjured her, "of what she will have to bear!" - -"I think her disposition is equal to it," Judith said. - -"Oh, I don't doubt that," he hurriedly explained. "But Mrs. Grimstone is -so rough!" - -"Beth seems to think she must go," was all Judith could reply. "She -usually knows her own mind, Mr. Pease." - -"She does," he admitted mournfully. But he was not subdued, and blazed -out with a fitful courage: "I will do my best to prevent it!" - -"Do!" said Judith heartily. - -Pease did his best; knowing how weak he was against Beth, he spent no -time in discussion, but rushing into the subject he declared to Beth -that she ought not go to Mrs. Grimstone, and that was all there was to -it. Then he stood breathless at his own audacity. - -"Ought not?" asked Beth, surprised at such precipitation in one who was -usually so slow. "If few persons are willing to go to Mrs. Grimstone, -isn't that a very good reason why I should?" - -"It isn't that; it isn't that!" he replied, and wished, despairing, that -he could voice his thoughts. But Beth's brown eyes, just a little -quizzical, took away his courage, and all his impetus was spent. He -gasped with vexation. - -"Then what is it?" she asked, smiling outright. - -"Promise me three days?" was all he could say. "I'm busy now--this -street-railway----Oh, don't laugh!" he begged as Beth's smile grew -merrier. "Please promise me three days!" - -To his delight she promised, and he went and began to draught a letter -of such importance that its composition was to take nearly all of the -seventy-two hours which she had accorded him. He hoped that what he had -to say would not be too sudden--but he need not have worried. A man -cannot note a girl's every movement, be solicitous at each little cold, -know to a minute the calendar of her engagements, and gradually perfect -himself in knowledge of her tastes, without declaring himself, -unconsciously, in every sentence. - -Upon this pleasant by-play Judith smiled, yet knew that her future would -change with Beth's. For if Beth went to Mrs. Grimstone, Judith must find -work; she could no longer bear the consciousness that she was not -earning. A little envy stirred in her, as she feared that she could not -possibly, in spite of all her preparation, earn so much as Beth. In -this belief the principal of her school confirmed her when she asked him -if he could not find her a position. - -"You understand that with your experience your salary will be small?" he -asked her. - -"Have I not done well since I came?" she inquired. - -"I never had a better pupil," he replied. "But a few more months, Miss -Blanchard----" - -"How much could I earn to begin with?" she persisted. - -"Forty dollars a month," he answered. - -"So little?" she asked, disappointed. - -"Perhaps fifty, if you have luck," he conceded. "But you'd better wait." - -"I can't," Judith answered. "Will you tell me of any chance that you -hear of?" - -He promised that he would, yet gave her no immediate hope of a position. -Judith was depressed; more and more it seemed to her that she was -nothing, and her debt loomed large before her eyes. It seemed a great -weight to carry--alone. - -Nevertheless, she maintained her interest in the great combination -against Ellis, could not fail to maintain it, for soon came the strike. -It was an orderly strike and a good-natured public; people were saying -cheerfully that the cars would be running again in a week, when Mr. -Mather was president; but believing that no one could be sure of that, -and ignorant of her own deep influence, Judith wished for the fiftieth -time that she could learn how matters stood. The vagueness and -uncertainty were wearing her. - -And at last came the information. At the supper table, on the evening of -the strike, Pease seemed as untroubled as usual, and as genial. Miss -Cynthia broke in upon his calm. - -"Peveril," she demanded, "what do the men hope to gain by striking now?" - -"To-morrow," he explained, "the transfer books close. Only to-morrow's -holders of stock can vote at the meeting a week hence." - -"Oh," she said, "I see. The men hope to scare some of Ellis's supporters -into selling out." - -He nodded. "The men have very clever leaders." - -"And will this help you?" - -"I hope so." - -She followed up the indirect admission. "Then you need help?" - -"Get me forty shares," he said, "and the matter is settled. But----" he -realised that he was talking shop. - -"The butter, please, Cynthia?" - -"Well," she said in triumph, as she passed the dish, "I have at last -learned something from you." - -"Good!" he returned, undisturbed. "And I'll tell you this much more, -that I haven't the slightest idea where I can find those forty shares." - -"Oh!" she cried, dismayed. "What does Mr. Mather think?" - -"Mather knows nothing about it," said Pease. "His friends are working -for him without his knowledge, because they have never been sure that -they could help him." - -Judith, listening to the talk, told herself that Mather would never be -president of the road; she had heard Ellis describe the little ring of -men who stood solidly around him--men whom he had made. That ring would -never be broken. Yet amid her disappointment she felt relief. Mather had -never told her of the projects of his friends because, like herself, he -had not been sure of them. - -Before the meal was ended Mr. Fenno came--only for a minute, he said, -and bade them not to rise. Judith admired the picture that he made as he -stood and talked with Pease; his white hair and mustache seemed whiter -still by contrast with his coal-black eyebrows, while the dead -black-and-white evening clothes were relieved by the soft sable which -lined his overcoat. He questioned Pease with his accustomed bluntness. - -"No go?" - -"Nothing yet," Pease answered. - -"Ah, he's clever!" said Mr. Fenno, to which encomium of Ellis Pease -assented by a nod, but seemed not inclined to pursue the subject -further. Then the servant, entering, announced that Mr. Price was at the -door, asking for Mr. Pease. As Pease started from his seat his inquiring -glance met Fenno's. The old man knit his heavy brows. - -"Do you suppose----" he said. - -"May be!" Pease answered with visible excitement. - -"He must see you alone," added the maid. - -"Show him into the parlour," Pease directed. For a minute he was alone -with the jeweller; Fenno, forgetting the presence of the ladies, stared -after him and waited. Then Pease returned. - -"Can we have you with us, Mr. Fenno?" he asked. - -The three shut themselves up in the parlour. Judith, as she controlled -her deep interest, felt how often it was now her part to wait. But at -last the parlour door opened again, and voices were heard. It was Price -who spoke first. - -"You understand, Mr. Pease--my family----" - -"Yes, yes," Pease answered. - -"And my position, you see," the explanation continued. Judith saw the -jeweller, bowing and rubbing his hands together nervously. - -"Yes," repeated Pease shortly, opening the outer door for him. "At my -office, Mr. Price, the first thing in the morning." - -The door shut on the jeweller, and the two others came into the -dining-room. Pease looked glum, the older man scornful, and in -absorption they spoke before the others. - -"It is settled, then," Mr. Fenno said grimly. - -"I feel," responded Pease, "as if I had touched pitch." - -"You will get over it," was the cynical retort. "Now, then, to finish -all this up. Can you answer for Mather?" - -Pease shook his head. "He must answer for himself." - -"He shall, to-morrow," said Mr. Fenno. "What do you say to a meeting at -my office--all of us?" - -"You will need all," Pease answered. - -"We can settle everything," went on Fenno in his heavy voice. "We will -have it all in writing--I'll have a stenographer on hand." - -A stenographer! Judith started with eagerness, and Mr. Fenno turned to -her. "What do you say?" he asked. "Will you help us?" - -Her eyes sparkled. "Gladly!" she cried. - -"Good!" he said bluffly. "Nine o'clock at my office. Pease, have -everybody there, except Mather, at three; George at half-past." Pease -nodded, and Mr. Fenno smote him on the shoulder. "Come, cheer up, man! -Everything is clear at last." - -But Pease could not smile. "In such a way!" he grumbled. - -"Through no fault of ours." Then Mr. Fenno turned to Beth. "Beth, I -leave him to you." And next he looked on Judith with a sudden change of -manner, losing both his animation and his cynicism, and becoming very -grave. "To-morrow," he said, "you shall see what you have done." - -"I?" she asked in astonishment. "I, sir?" But he merely nodded, and -hastened away. - -And Pease was left to Beth. Reminded by Fenno's words that his three -days were nearly at an end, he forgot Price, forgot Mather, and -remembered only a letter which suddenly seemed to be burning a hole in -his pocket. Miss Cynthia and Judith left him alone in the parlour with -Beth, who for a while watched with amusement his nervous movements about -the room. She tried to make him talk, but failed. - -"Something is very much on your mind," she said at last. - -"Everything is!" he exclaimed in desperation, and dragged out the -letter. "Won't you--will you--read this, to-night?" He put the letter in -her hand, and moved toward the door. - -"Why do you go?" she asked innocently, opening the envelope. - -He had reached the threshold. "I will come again." - -But she poised the paper in her hand and looked at him reflectively. "I -don't think you'd better go," she said, and then added positively, "No, -I can't have you go. Please sit down in that chair." - -Obeying the nod of her determined little head, he dragged himself from -the door, sat down, and watched her miserably while she studied his -letter. She read it once, and sat with pursed lips; she read it again, -and knit her brows; she read it a third time and looked at him -thoughtfully. Then she read parts of it aloud. - -"I apprehend much unhappiness to you in your proposed occupation .... -Admirable qualities--tender nature.... Am emboldened to say what -otherwise I might not ... if you will give yourself into my care, I will -promise you that so far as it is possible for a man to avert them, you -will never know trouble or need----" - -She broke off, and looked at him. "This is a proposal of marriage, Mr. -Pease?" - -He shivered. "I meant it so." - -She put the letter in her lap with a regretful sigh. "I thought that -when a man asked a girl to marry him he always said something about--his -feelings for her." - -"But respect, admiration--" he was beginning eagerly. - -"Oh," she interrupted, "those go without saying. And I understand," she -glanced at the letter, "that you write this only because you wish to -relieve me of work. It is very good of you to sacrifice yourself." - -"It is no sacrifice!" he cried. - -She folded the note and thrust it into its envelope. "I never believed," -she said emphatically, "in proposals by letter." - -"I am sorry," faltered miserable Pease. - -"And what you say," continued Beth, holding the note out for him to -take, "is not my idea of the essentials of a proposal." - -He came and received the letter, but could answer nothing. - -"I think," Beth set forth reflectively, "that just two things are -necessary to a proposal: a statement and a question. A man need only -say: 'I love you. Will you marry me?' Just seven words--no more." She -folded her hands in her lap, looked at him innocently, and waited. - -Gazing at her, fascinated, slowly he grew red. An idea found lodgment, -worked deeper, penetrated to the springs of action. He crushed the -letter in his hand. "I love you!" he cried. "Will you marry me?" - -She dimpled into smiles. "Yes," said little Beth. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXII - -WHICH IS IN SOME RESPECTS SATISFACTORY - - -Judith sat in Mr. Fenno's little office, while in the larger room the -magnates were slowly gathering. She was deeply interested in the result -of the coming meeting, a little anxious as well, on account of the last -words which Mr. Fenno had said to her. - -"Do you think George will accept?" he had asked. - -"Why should he not?" she returned, startled. - -"You see no reason?" were his words as he left her. - -She puzzled to find a reason until, in the outer office, Mr. Fenno's -deep voice began to address the little meeting. Before him sat, in two -groups, the financiers and the reform politicians, whose interests were -to be reconciled. They had, between them, the power to make a new -railway president and a new mayor, but never yet had the two groups of -men worked together. - -"We all know why we are here," Mr. Fenno began. "A holy crusade is our -object--or the protection of our interests." - -"It is not your interests that influence you," said one of the -reformers. "We are glad to see, Mr. Fenno, that you are moved by -righteous indignation. This recent tragedy--" But Mr. Fenno stopped him -by a sudden gesture. - -"My stenographer," and he emphasised the word, "my stenographer is -within hearing. If we require any other agreements than I have prepared, -she can copy them." He saw the glances which his friends exchanged at -the news of Judith's presence; moved by the sudden reference to her -misfortunes, his heavy voice trembled as he proceeded. "We all have -our--wrongs to avenge, and a good friend to place in his proper -position. Before Mr. Mather comes, suppose we arrive at an -understanding." - -"Suppose," rejoined the leader of the reformers, "Mr. Fenno makes a -statement of his expectations. It seems to me," he said when the -explanation was forthcoming, "that the Good Government League is -expected to give more than it receives." - -"It is more blessed----" quoted Mr. Fenno drily. - -"Can't we," put in Pease mildly, "give concessions on either side? I -think we need each other." - -"It is just this," said Mr. Fenno to the reformers: "Lend us your -candidate to straighten out our tangle, and we'll lend him back to -straighten yours." - -"Is it possible," was the doubtful question, "that a president of the -street-railroad can stand for mayor without raising suspicion of his -motives?" - -"Mather can," answered Pease promptly. - -"Certainly with less suspicion than Ellis arouses," supplemented Mr. -Fenno. "Come, will you lose a chance to defeat Ellis on his first line -of battle? He will be beaten all the easier on his second." - -"We are thinking of Mr. Mather's standing before the public," replied -the reformers. "He must resign from your presidency as soon as we -nominate him." - -"Very well." - -"That suits you?" - -"Yes, if you will release him from his promise to you now." - -"We will, if you will support him then." - -"Here is an agreement covering these points," said Mr. Fenno. "Shall we -put our names to this?" - -It was on a scene of paper-signing, then, that Mather entered. Some of -the gentlemen looked up and nodded to him; others--they were all his -seniors--continued passing the papers around the table. He paused with -his hand upon the door-knob. - -"Am I in the way?" he asked. - -"Everything is decided without you," answered Mr. Fenno. "We have merely -disposed of your time for the next eighteen months." - -Mather laughed, threw off his coat, and took a chair. They explained -matters to him; in her seclusion Judith listened long before she heard -him say a word. Then he began to ask questions, deep and far-reaching, -but every difficulty had been considered beforehand. - -"And my obligations to you, Mr. Pease?" he said once. "I was not to quit -the Electrolytic Company until the fall." - -"I have arranged all that," Pease replied. "The new Chebasset manager is -very satisfactory; we will promote him." - -"Well, what do you say?" asked Fenno, when every point had been covered. - -Mather sat thoughtful for a while. "I may understand," he asked at -length, "that your proposition amounts to approval of my former course -as president of the street-railway?" - -They assured him that it did. - -"I should pursue," he next said, "the same policy. In place of Mr. -Ellis's subway bill, which was this morning thrown out of the -legislature, I should at once introduce another." - -"Different in plan?" some one inquired. - -"Quite," Mather answered, smiling. "Having no real estate to condemn at -high prices, I have no desire for the privilege of eminent domain." - -"Have you any objection," they asked him, "to serving in these two -positions in such quick succession?" - -He smiled again. "Are you sure you can elect me to either?" - -"Suppose we can?" returned Mr. Fenno. - -"Supposing you can," began Mather--then stopped to think. - -"Well?" demanded Mr. Fenno after a moment's impatience. - -Mather roused himself. "Supposing that you can elect me," he said -seriously, "there is just one thing I wish to lay before you--a -statement of my personal feelings. We all know each other well, we have -the same interests, we know and say things which are not given to the -public. I wish to define my position exactly." He paused and looked at -the attentive faces. In her little office Judith asked herself with -sudden alarm: "Will he refuse?" - -"The personal element," he went on, "has recently entered into my -relations with Mr. Ellis. There are distresses which I and--friends of -mine, have suffered through him, by actions which make him morally, if -not legally, criminal. Some of you know that what I say is true." - -He looked at Pease, who nodded; Fenno did the same, but no one spoke. -Mather began again with increasing energy, yet slowly, struggling for an -exact statement of his position. "I have," he said, "and acknowledge -freely, reason for the bitterest personal dislike of Mr. Ellis. And for -that reason, considering the possibility of the proposals which you make -to me, it has sometimes seemed to me as if I ought to refuse you----" - -"You must consider----" cried Pease, half rising from his chair. But -Mather held up a hand to stay him. - -"And yet," he said, as Pease sank back again, "I recognise the -situation here. Long ago I expressed my disapproval of Mr. Ellis as a -public man, and opposed him before--certain circumstances arose. -Besides, I am the man (excuse me if I say it) that best can meet this -strike; and again, a successful fight must be made for mayor in the -fall. I believe that I can win there for you. So if it comes to a -question between my personal feelings and my duties as a citizen, -then--if you will believe my honesty in this confession, and in trusting -myself to oppose Mr. Ellis without vindictiveness--if you will believe -this, and will fight him with me not as a man but as a force, an evil -force, then I will sign this document with you." - -In her little room Judith found herself trembling in response to the -emotion which had vibrated in his voice; but in the larger office the -gentlemen rose from their chairs, crowded around Mather, and in -enthusiasm promised him their support. No one noticed the noise of the -opening of the outer door; it was a full minute before the first of them -perceived the figure which, attentive and sneering, watched them. It was -Ellis. - -He heard their words and knew their purposes, yet he had guessed -beforehand what they had gathered there to do. By one of those bold -strokes which had so often succeeded for him, he had come among them in -the attempt to conciliate a strong minority. He had expected to arouse -consternation, yet on perceiving him they looked at each other as if -welcoming his presence. Still ignorant of Price's treachery, he did not -understand the sign. - -"Twelve good men and true," he said, coming forward. "Is this an -inquest?" - -"A funeral," Mr. Fenno replied. "Some one whom we know is dead and cold. -Will you not pronounce the benediction?" - -"Ah, I am not qualified," Ellis said. "But learning that you were here -in great distress of mind, I came to see if I could not relieve you. I -hope you will excuse the interruption?" - -"Willingly," Mr. Fenno answered, with much cheerfulness. - -Then Ellis changed his tone; dropping the banter, he looked upon them -frankly. "Seriously, I understand that you are here to discuss what you -regard as mismanagement in the street-railway. I know I come without -invitation, yet I wish to make an offer. You have large interests in the -road, I dislike to exclude a minority from any voice in affairs, and so -I came to say that if you wish more representation on the next board of -directors----" - -"Then we shall have it?" interrupted Mr. Fenno. "Gentlemen, is not Mr. -Ellis very kind?" - -Ellis noted the sustained irony, and as those present murmured their -responses to the question he saw in them no conciliatory spirit. They -looked at him with that inquiring reserve which was not difficult to -meet in them singly, but which, thus directed at him by a group of the -blue-bloods, became irritatingly oppressive. And there was more in its -meaning than ever before. Suddenly he asked himself if these men could -be stronger than he had thought. He had been very busy all the morning -with messages to and from the capital in regard to his bill, and with -the strike. If anything had happened on exchange---- - -The serious voice of Pease began to speak. "I imagine that Mr. Ellis, in -studying the market reports to-day, failed to remark a transfer which -was recorded three minutes before the closing time. Otherwise he would -scarcely have come here." - -The inquiring glances of the others grew keener, pressing upon Ellis -almost physically as those present watched for the effect of Pease's -words. Standing alone against them, Ellis felt a sudden sense of -impending calamity, between his temples a pressure began, and in the -silence his voice was scarcely audible as in spite of himself he asked -hoarsely: "What do you mean?" - -"History," answered Pease slowly--never in his life before had he been -deliberately cruel--"history, Mr. Ellis, has taught some valuable -lessons, of which I should like to call two to your attention. One is -that some great men meet their Waterloo, the other that some little men -have their--Price!" - -Something flashed before Ellis's eyes, and in that flash he saw the -whole treachery. His head dropped, his eyes closed, and his jaw shut -convulsively. "Price! Price!" he hissed. - -Then in an instant he stood upright and faced them without flinching. -Though he saw the whole meaning of the news, though he realised the -power of the caste which, so long supine, at last had risen up against -him, even though he knew he faced two great defeats, he looked upon his -adversaries, and they saw courage in his glance. He turned to Mather. - -"Mather," said Ellis, "you think you've got me." - -He felt, as that same quiet glance looked down on him, the continual -irritation of it, the impossibility of ever attaining that superb -indifference. And then the answer: "For the present I have." Would they -never boast, these aristocrats--never threaten? First, despising him, -they had left him alone; even now when they turned on him they still -looked down on him. A torrent of words rushed to his lips, and yet, -feeling how powerless he was to impress those silent, attentive -spectators, he checked himself. - -"For the present!" he repeated, and turned to go. - -In his unfamiliar surroundings he mistook the door and opened one -leading into a little office where, facing him across a table, he -saw--who was that? Pale, intent, startled at his entrance, Judith -Blanchard rose and confronted him. For a moment he stared as at a -portent. - -Then quickly he closed the door and turned to the men at his back. Fenno -and Pease had started forward; with Mather, they were the nearest to -him. He eyed them one by one. "So," he said, pointing to the little -room, "_that_ is why you are all here!" - -They made no answer. "Because I wish to enter your homes, is it," he -asked, "that you combine against me? Because I nearly succeeded, I -frightened you?" - -Mather did not understand, Pease and Fenno had no reply to make, but -Ellis, feeling with pain that he had pronounced a truth against himself, -waited for no answer. "But wait!" he cried, stamping. "I have avoided -you, favoured you at times, but now I am against you in everything. I -will go out of my way to meet you. What you wish, I shall oppose; what -you build, I shall throw down; what you bring in, I shall throw out! For -everything you win, you must pay; I will weary you of fighting. I will -plan while you sleep, act while you rest, work while you play. Your -virtue shall be a load to you, and I will tire your vigilance!" - -He flung his phrases like bombs, to burst among his adversaries; casting -his prophecies in their faces, he startled his opponents from their -reserve. Then, turning, he rushed from the office, leaving them staring -at each other as if a whirlwind had passed. - - * * * * * - -One by one Mather's supporters left the office, each renewing his -promise of assistance, yet each subdued by the thoughts aroused by -Ellis's amazing words. For they recognised a challenge which would be -hard to meet--to be as persistent in their efforts as Ellis should be -with his, to meet his subtlety, to foresee his plans, to counteract his -influence, to expose his methods. And having businesses, having -families, loving repose and pleasure, only the reformers, those modern -Puritans, could promise the self-denial necessary to meet Ellis's -unceasing activities. - -Pease, Fenno, and Mather at last remained in the office. "Tremendous!" -sighed Pease, breaking a period of thought which the departure of Ellis -had inaugurated for him. - -"Tremendous!" repeated Fenno. - -"Are we equal to it?" asked Mather seriously. - -Mr. Fenno recovered his cynicism. "Sufficient to the day is its weevil," -he answered. "Grubs breed fast, but they can be killed. I am going -home." - -The three put on their coats. "We are going the same way, I suppose?" -Mather remarked. - -"Pease and I have something to talk over," replied Mr. Fenno. "Yes we -have, Pease! None of your confounded straightforwardness. You must give -us a start, George; five minutes' law, if you please. And I should like -you to wait," he pointed to the door of the inner office, "in that room. -Good-evening." - -"Good-evening," repeated Pease, and followed Mr. Fenno out. - -Thought Mather: "What under the sun----" He opened the door of the -little room. "Judith!" - -There she sat and looked at him; on her cheeks were traces of tears, but -her eyes were bright as they met his. He looked from her to the -uncovered typewriter, the pencils and note-book. "So it was you," he -said, "that Ellis saw before he turned upon us so?" - -She nodded, looking on him silently. - -"What is it?" he asked, coming a step nearer. "You look--Judith, are you -ill?" - -Suddenly she rose and held out her hands to him. "Oh, George," she -cried, "I am so glad for you!" - -"Oh," he said, relieved, "I was afraid that--Judith, you have been -crying. Is anything wrong? Was the work hard?" She shook her head. "Then -this meeting has distressed you?" - -Unashamed, she wiped her cheeks. "It is not that." - -"Come to the window," he said, for the early twilight was falling. But -when he studied her in the stronger light he saw nothing in her eyes -except a resolute cheerfulness; the unwonted pink in her cheeks might be -the reflection of the sunset glow. - -"Nothing is wrong with me," she said, and took her jacket from the hook -on the wall. "I suppose Mr. Fenno will not want me any more to-day, so I -may as well go home." Yet while Mather helped her to put on the jacket, -the knowledge that he was studying her set her nerves to trembling, and -it was by an effort that she controlled herself. - -"You are under some strain," he said with decision. "Did Ellis frighten -you?" - -She answered, "I have no fear of him." Drawing her gloves from her -pocket, she tried to put them on, but her hands trembled visibly. She -abandoned the attempt at concealment, and turned to him. - -"It's just that I'm glad for you, George, and proud of you, and--I've -been making an acknowledgment to myself, that's all. Now shall we go -home?" - -But he took her hand and kept her face toward the window. "I should like -to hear that acknowledgment, if I may?" - -Perhaps the colours deepened in the sky; at any rate, her cheeks grew -rosier as she looked away from him, out above the roofs. "If you wish -to know," she answered. - -"I wish it very much." - -She folded her hands before her tightly; they showed white against her -dress. "No one else will hear," she began uncertainly, "although every -one else heard your confession, George. I heard, and somehow you set me -thinking of the time we met in the Golf Club, long ago, last April." - -"Last April," he repeated, and added with meaning, "Long ago." - -Her voice grew stronger. "I will tell you everything," she said. "You -will see what a foolish girl I have been--how proud I was. We spoke then -of the world, and you warned me of it; you said that it was very big, -and strong, and merciless." - -"I remember," Mather said. - -"But I did not believe," Judith went on. "I thought that you--you had -just lost this presidency, George--I thought that you were cowed. And I -thought that I was braver than you, and stronger than you, and I -believed that I--I, George!--could conquer the world!" - -She made a little gesture of amazement at herself; gravely attentive, he -did not speak. Then she pointed down at her black dress, swept her hand -toward the typewriter, and exclaimed: "And this is the result! But I -know myself now, George, and I am glad you made me say this, for I want -to beg your pardon." - -"There is no need of that," he answered. - -"Then," she asked, "shall we go?" - -"Not yet," he replied. But he continued looking at her without saying -more, and to cover her embarrassment she said: - -"Just let me tell you first that Mr. Fenno has engaged me permanently, -and I feel that I have started a new life, George." - -She was attempting to be gay, a difficult task in the face of his -continued serious scrutiny; but to her relief he spoke. "A new life? -Why, that leads to an old subject, Judith. And what you have said makes -me hope that some day I may begin a new life, too." - -"Yours begins next week," she said, "with the stockholders' meeting." - -"It begins," he returned, "whenever you say the word." She turned -abruptly aside from him and looked out of the window; there could now be -no doubt whence came the colour that flooded her face and even touched -her ears with coral. He came close to her side. - -"See," he said, pointing out the window. "The sun is going down. Shall -it not rise again on a new life for us both?" - -"George," she answered, "how can I marry any one?" - -"You are thinking," he asked, "of your debt to Ellis?" - -She nodded. "How can I so burden you?" - -He laughed. "I can pay the money out of hand; I can earn it again in -three years. Jacob served seven years for Rachel: will you not let me -work a little while for you?" He tried to draw her to him. "Judith! -Judith!" - -Suddenly she turned and nestled to him. "Oh, hold me!" she sobbed. "Take -care of me always!" - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIII - -CONTAINS ANOTHER PROPOSAL OF MARRIAGE, AND SETTLES AN OLD SCORE - - -The whirling in Ellis's head was ceasing, the blind restlessness was -slowly leaving him. Yet still he walked up and down in his library, -unmindful of the call of hunger. For as his anger left him there grew in -its place the unassuagable yearning which he was coming to know too -well, and which he was ashamed that he could not master. For there had -never been a desire which he could not crush, or a passion which he -could not uproot, if they stood in the way of his purposes. In his -courtship of Judith he had taken care to suppress the feelings which, -apart from his appreciation of her material value, occasionally -threatened to interfere with his entirely deliberate progress in her -regard and her father's favour. But now, when all was over, the little -pains and longings which he had crushed down were constantly rising, and -he who had been so self-sufficing was now lonely, he who had never -paused to regret was often bowed with despair. And Judith, Judith was in -his mind constantly; it was she who broke his sleep, spoiled his work, -and had brought about his defeat. His rage at the disaster was not so -deep as the disturbance which the sight of her had caused in him. But -even that he would, he must, repress--or where would she, that pale -girl, bring him? - -Three times in the past month had this confusion of the faculties come -upon him. Wherever lay the cause, the result was too costly to be -permitted to continue. He recognised the fits now; the next one that -came he would meet at its beginning--and this one should end at once. -What was he thinking of? His men must have the news already; they had -come to the house and he had sent them away, playing the fool here by -himself. Well, he would go out and find them now, hearten them, and -prepare at once for the long fight with which he had threatened his -enemies. Ah--and he ground his teeth with anticipation--he meant all -that he had said. - -His faculties collected at last, he turned to the door, and met the -cautious face of his butler. - -"A lady, sir," said the man, prepared to be damned from the room. He was -relieved when his master said: "Show her in." - -But the lady, having no intention of being turned away, was close -behind. "Very wise of you," she said, entering even as he spoke. -"Because I meant to come in anyway, Stephen." - -"Oh, it's you, Lydia?" asked Ellis, darting a look before which the -butler retired. "What brings you?" - -Mrs. Harmon unwound the long scarf from her neck, and stood before him -smiling. "An errand of mercy, to comfort the broken-hearted. Come, don't -scowl." She unbuckled her cloak, swung it from her shoulders, and tossed -it on a chair. "There, how do you like me?" - -In spite of his mood he caught his breath. For she was dressed in black -and adorned with pearls; the dress was cut so low that it more than -suggested the charms which it concealed. And those which it revealed -were perfect: the full and rosy throat, the shoulders, and the arms. The -pearls set off the blackness of the dress, and took to themselves the -warmth of her skin. For a moment Ellis looked at her with pleasure, then -he recovered himself. - -"Full mourning, I see," he grunted. - -"Don't be disagreeable," she returned. "It's my best and newest. Come, -say I never looked so well before." - -"You never did," he agreed. Always Lydia had dressed, he reflected, as -much as she dared; now that she was free she evidently intended to go -the limit. "It certainly becomes you," he added. - -"I may sit down?" she asked. "Thanks. Now, Stephen, I want to talk -business." - -"Talk," he said, sitting before her. "It's about----" - -"This afternoon's news. Oh, yes," as he turned his eyes away, "it's got -to me already. Some of your men, not getting in here, came to see me. -How did it happen, Stephen?" - -"Price," he answered between his teeth. "By God, I----" The curse and -the threat died away, and he sat staring at the carpet. - -"Oh," she cried, "and I warned you of him!" - -"Well," he growled, "it's over. I'm not looking back." - -She leaned toward him earnestly. "Are you looking ahead? You're not -giving up, are you?" - -"No!" he cried scornfully. - -"Good!" she responded, relieved, but then she asked: "What has got into -you? Three times you've shut yourself up so." - -"Never again," he assured her. "It's all over, Lydia. I shall never -spend any more time--regretting." - -"I thought so," she said. "It's Judith?" - -"Yes," he acknowledged savagely. "I've taken a little time to be a fool. -Now I'm over it." - -"If you are," she replied, "I'll tell you something." - -"What next?" he asked, his face darkening. - -"I went by the Peases' at half-past five," she began slowly, watching -him. "I was on the other side of the street. You know it's almost dark -at that hour?" - -"Oh, tell me!" he commanded. - -"I saw two people at the door," she went on more rapidly. "They were -George Mather and Judith. They opened the door, the hall was lighted -inside, and I saw their figures against the light. As they went in--it -wasn't much, but he put his arm around her." - -Ellis started abruptly from his chair, went to his desk, and stood -looking down at it; his back was to her. "I thought you said you were -over it," she remarked. - -As abruptly he returned and took his seat. "I expected that." - -"Well," she asked, "and now what?" - -"Work," he replied. "I can always have plenty of that." - -"Work?" she repeated. "Like the man in the novel who works to forget?" -She pointed her finger at him, teasingly, and laughed. "Stephen, I do -believe you were in love with her!" - -He scowled his contempt at the weak phrase. In love with her! But then -its central word struck home with the force of a new idea, and -involuntarily he rose again from his seat. Her laughter stopped; her -gayety changed to alarm, for he was looking at her, but he saw nothing. - -"What is it?" she asked uneasily. - -Love? Love! He understood. "I loved her!" he said, and then added -quietly, "I love her!" - -She bridled and looked down. "I too have been through that, Stephen." - -But he stood staring before him. He loved!--and all was clear to him. -Thence came those pains, those harsh distresses, those unappeasable -longings; thence the distraction which caused his failure. Judith had -set this poison in his blood. He laughed mirthlessly. How the girl had -revenged herself! - -But he loved! Relief came to him as he realised that no ordinary -weakness, but the higher lot of man (so he had heard it called) was -overpowering him. He had never been fond of any one in his life, and yet -he loved! Love! That was a passion he had never expected to meet; there -was no shame in falling before it--and he felt in his pain even a fierce -delight. He loved the girl! - -And now he knew he would never be the same man again--never could work -so free of soul, never forget those high ideals of hers, nor be as -mindless of the consequences of his acts. He smiled with scorn of -himself as he saw how the tables had been turned on him. Meaning to win -the girl, to buy her, he had instead roused a conscience, and learned -that there was purity in the world. This was what they meant, then, -those hitherto inexplicable fits of his: that a new nature was trying to -assert itself, that a terrible discontent was aroused, that his whole -life had changed, and that within an unsuspected recess of his nature -there was this open wound, unhealing, draining his strength. - -Where then was his boast to his enemies, of what worth his threats? -Could he ever fight again as before, ever manage and plan? Again he -laughed scornfully. - -"You needn't laugh," complained Mrs. Harmon. "I do understand it all." - -"I wasn't laughing at you," he answered. "--Well, forget all this, -Lydia. What is it I can do for you?" - -"Will you forget all this?" she asked with meaning. "Then look ahead -with me for a while, Stephen. You won't be president." - -"And I've lost my mayor," he added. - -"Will it mean so much?" she asked, disappointed. - -"It's Mather's year," he said decidedly. "Everything's going his way; it -happens so every once in a while in New York. Then Tammany lays low; so -shall I. But in the end they come in again; so with me." - -"Then, planning for the future," she began, but hesitated, stopped, and -started differently. "I've suffered a good deal, in this past year. We -haven't got anything we wished, either you or I." - -He wondered what brought her. "That is true," he said, not intending to -commit himself. - -"I've suffered from Judith as well as you," complained Mrs. Harmon. "She -insulted me the other day; she isn't what I thought her, Stephen." - -"Nor what I thought," he said, waiting. - -"And the others," she went on, "turn me down, too. You would suppose -that my position, and my loss--but they are colder to me than ever." She -looked down. - -"Look here," he said, "it isn't like you to be so mild, Lydia. Aren't -you just a little mad, underneath?" - -"Oh, I hate them all!" she burst out. She looked at him with flashing -eyes, then asked directly, "Do you, Stephen?" - -"Well, suppose I do; what then?" he asked, wishing her to show her hand. - -"I will leave them," said Mrs. Harmon with vigour. "So will you. And we -will leave them together." - -"It won't be a formal leavetaking," he said, not understanding. "We just -leave them, don't we?" - -"Oh," she replied, "I can't bear just to drop out. I want them to -understand that I've no more use for them." She looked to see if he -comprehended, but he remained silent and his face showed nothing. "I've -lost my husband," she said. - -"Yes," he said, encouraging. "Go on." - -She finished with an effort. "And you wanted--a wife?" - -"Good God!" he said slowly. - -"I could be of use to you," she explained quickly. "More than Judith. -See how your men come to me for advice?" - -"Your husband is but two months in his grave," he cried. "And you wear -Wayne's jewels at your throat!" - -"But I don't mean to do it at once," she said, aggrieved. "For a few -months it could be--understood." - -"I see," he said, mastering his disgust. "Anything more, Lydia?" - -"And I should like to leave something to remember us by," she went on, -taking confidence. "So that they shall feel that we aren't just beaten." - -"How will you do it?" - -"They are like a big family," she said. "Hurt one, and the others are -against you. I think they combined against you out of revenge -for--Judith, as much as to help Mather." - -"Perhaps," he commented. - -"They think a great deal of those two," she proceeded. "If we could hurt -them we could anger all the others." - -"How do you propose to do it?" he inquired. - -"You have that note of hers," she said. "You said she could pay at her -leisure, but----" she eyed him keenly. "Stephen, I never believed that." - -"You are quite right," he acknowledged. "I could come down on her -to-morrow for the money." He looked at Mrs. Harmon impassively, but she -was satisfied. - -"Then do!" she urged, rising. - -"I see," he said. "If her friends have to make up the money for her it -puts her in the position of a beggar, makes her ridiculous, doesn't it?" - -"More than that," she said eagerly. "If people know she has signed a -note to you, they will think, don't you see, and say things." - -His brows contracted, and from under them his eyes began to glow, -characteristically. "What will they say?" he asked. - -"Oh, there will be a great to-do, a quiet scandal, and under cover of it -you--we retire with credit." - -"You have thought it all out very well," he said. - -"Haven't I?" she asked complacently. - -"And I suppose," he said, "that I might as well begin to-morrow. In -fact, I could send some kind of a summons to Miss Blanchard to-night." - -"Any day, only soon," she agreed. "Before the stockholders' meeting will -be best." - -"Now is the time," he said. He went to his desk, stooped over it, and -wrote rapidly. Then he brought her the paper. "Will that do?" He had -merely written: "With the best wishes of Stephen F. Ellis." - -"Why," she began doubtfully. "Oh, I see; you mean to be sarcastic. And -what will you inclose with this?" - -He took the note from his pocket-book and showed it to her. "For fifteen -thousand dollars, you see. And it is in legal form." - -"Yes," she said with satisfaction. "You'll just remind her that you have -it, and demand immediate payment?" - -"I will do this," he replied. He tore the note across, laid the pieces -together, and tore them again, and once again. Then he folded them with -the paper on which he had written. - -"Stephen!" she cried. - -He took an envelope from the desk and put the papers in. "And I send it -all to her. Now perhaps you understand?" - -His tone was suddenly fierce, and as he approached her she backed away. -"Why----" she said, astonished. - -"That was a good idea of yours," he sneered, standing close to her. -"Between us, we could smirch her name. You to do the talking, of -course." He snatched her wrist and pushed his face close to hers. "Have -you told any one I held that note?" - -"No!" she answered, frightened. - -"The truth!" he insisted. - -"No one; no one!" she replied. - -He cast her hand away, and stepped back. "If you tell any one, with that -damned tongue of yours, Lydia, I'll have your blood!" - -"I will never tell!" she protested, thoroughly cowed. - -He turned away from her. "Let them tell if they wish," he said over his -shoulder. "They won't, to save the Colonel's reputation; but if they -do--you keep quiet. Fool I was to tell you!" He went to the desk again, -and took up his pen to address the envelope. "Good-night, Lydia," he -said absently. - -"But, Stephen!" she began to plead. - -"Don't provoke me," he interrupted, pausing with his pen poised. "Don't -provoke me, Lydia." As she did not move, he turned on her. "Confound it, -go!" - -She dared not say a word to anger him further; she feared even to look -her disgust, lest she should cut herself off from him forever. Taking -her cloak and scarf, she went to the door; she paused there for an -instant, only to see with fury that he had turned again to the desk and -was writing. White with rage at her failure, she went away. - -But Ellis was at peace with himself, and looked the future in the face. -He loved, he would suffer, he did not even wish to forget. Deliberately -he left the house and walked to the Pease homestead. He rang the bell, -gave to the servant his missive for Judith, and for a full minute after -the door closed he stood on the sidewalk, looking at the lighted windows -of the house. But then, shivering, he drew his coat closely around him, -and hurried away from that abode of happiness. - - - - - * * * * * - - - - -Transcriber's note: - -Original spelling has been retained. - -Original hyphenation has been retained, even where inconsistent; e.g. -both "golf-club" and "golf club" occur. - -The following printer's errors have been corrected: - -Page 35, "kuckle" changed to "knuckle". (Yet she hated to knuckle to -them;) - -Page 36, "roue" changed to "roue" (Girls more or less innocent danced -with men more or less roue;) - -Page 48, missing period inserted ("But," he explained, "it must have -permanently bettered and improved you.") - -Page 92, quotation marks matched ("Yes, sir.' changed to "Yes, sir.") - -Page 99, missing period inserted (No, I will try to write without -practising.) - -Page 100, "word" changed to "work" (but when his day's work was over) - -Page 172, it's corrected to its (All its beauty conceals a threat) and -(its only purpose) - -Page 181, extra quotation mark removed from middle of quote. ("This -lunch was better than I expected. We must meet here again, some day.") - -Page 252, quotation marks matched ("I thought you loved me?' changed to -"I thought you loved me?") - -Page 258, quotation marks matched ('We have no property ... to him?" -changed to "We have no property ... to him?") - - - -***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BARRIER*** - - -******* This file should be named 41890.txt or 41890.zip ******* - - -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: -http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/4/1/8/9/41890 - - - -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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