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THE OPENED SHUTTERS
A Novel
by
CLARA LOUISE BURNHAM
* * * * *
By Clara Louise Burnham
THE OPENED SHUTTERS. Illustrated, 12mo, $1.50.
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HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO.
BOSTON AND NEW YORK.
* * * * *
THE OPENED SHUTTERS
A Novel
by
CLARA LOUISE BURNHAM
With Frontispiece by Harrison Fisher
[Illustration: SYLVIA
_From a drawing by Harrison Fisher_]
Boston and New York
Houghton, Mifflin and Company
The Riverside Press, Cambridge
1906
Copyright 1906 by Clara Louise Burnham
All Rights Reserved
Published October 1906
TO
C. D. T.
CONTENTS
I. JUDGE TRENT 1
II. MARTHA LACEY 12
III. A RAILWAY TRIP 22
IV. HOTEL FRISBIE 29
V. JUDGE TRENT'S STUDY 43
VI. SYLVIA'S CALLER 57
VII. THE MILL FARM 69
VIII. IN HARBOR 82
IX. EDNA DERWENT 91
X. CAPITULATION 101
XI. THINKRIGHT'S LETTER 112
XII. A LOST OAR 124
XIII. UNCLE AND NIECE 135
XIV. BLIND MAN'S HOLIDAY 146
XV. A FLITTING 155
XVI. EVOLUTION 161
XVII. THE ROSY CLOUD 170
XVIII. HAWK ISLAND 180
XIX. A NOR'EASTER 189
XX. THE POOL 200
XXI. A SWIMMING LESSON 213
XXII. BLUEBERRYING 222
XXIII. A PHILTRE 228
XXIV. SYLVIA'S MYSTERY 239
XXV. THE LITTLE RIFT 248
XXVI. REVELATION 257
XXVII. MISUNDERSTANDING 265
XXVIII. THE POTION 277
XXIX. THE WHITE BAG 288
XXX. THE LIGHT BREAKS 297
XXXI. RECONCILIATION 309
XXXII. A SOFTENED BLOW 321
XXXIII. "LOVE ALONE WILL STAY " 330
THE OPENED SHUTTERS
CHAPTER I
JUDGE TRENT
Judge Trent's chair was tipped back at a comfortable angle for the
accommodation of his gaitered feet, which rested against the steam
radiator in his private office. There had been a second desk introduced
into this sanctum within the last month, and the attitude of the young
man seated at it indicated but a brief suspension of business as he
looked up to greet his employer.
The judge had just come in out of the cold and wet, and did not remove
his silk hat as he seated himself to dry his shoes. He appeared always
reluctant to remove that hat. Spotlessly clean as were always the
habiliments that clothed his attenuated form, no one could remember
having seen the judge's hat smoothly brushed; and although in the
course of thirty years it is unlikely that he never became possessed of
a new one, even the closest observer, and that was Martha Lacey, could
not be certain of the transition period, probably owing to the
lingering attachment with which the judge returned spasmodically to the
headgear which had accommodated itself to his bumps, and which he was
heroically endeavoring to discard.
This very morning Miss Lacey in passing her old friend on the street
had been annoyed by the unusually rough condition of the hat he lifted.
A few steps further on she happened to encounter the judge's
housekeeper, her market basket on her arm. Old Hannah's wrinkled
countenance did not grow less grim as Miss Lacey greeted her, but that
lady, nothing daunted, stopped to speak, her countenance alert and her
bright gaze shining through her eyeglasses.
"I just met Judge Trent, Hannah. Dear me, can't you brush that hat of
his a little? It looks for all the world like a black cat that has just
caught sight of a mastiff."
"I guess the judge knows how he wants his own hat," returned Hannah,
her mouth working disapprovingly.
"But he doesn't realize how it looks. Some one asked me the other day
if I supposed Judge Trent slept in his hat."
"And I s'pose you told 'em you didn't know," returned the old woman
sourly. "He's got a right to sleep in it if he wants to," and she moved
on while Miss Lacey looked after her for a moment, her lips set in a
tight line.
"Insolent!" she exclaimed. "All is I know he wouldn't do it if _I'd_
married him," she added mentally, resuming her walk. Martha Lacey's
sense of humor was not keen, but suddenly the mental picture of Judge
Trent's shrewd, thin countenance, as it might appear in pillowed
slumber surmounted by the high hat, overwhelmed her and she laughed
silently. Then she frowned with reddening cheeks. "Hannah's
impertinent," she murmured.
Judge Trent had read something of disapproval in Miss Lacey's glance as
she greeted him a few minutes ago, and he thought of her now as he sat
tilted back, his thumbs hooked easily in his arm holes, while he
watched the glistening dampness dry from his shoes.
"Martha probably disapproved because I didn't have on my rubbers," he
thought, an inward jerk acknowledging the humor of the situation. He
had not spoken often with Martha Lacey for many a year. Twenty-five
springs had rolled by now since he proposed to her. She had hesitated
for a week or so, and then, some difference arising between them, she
had refused him. He had led a busy life since then, absorbed in his
profession of the law, and had won more than local fame. When recently
he decided to take some one into his office and, as he put it, ease up
on himself, John Dunham, Harvard graduate, recently admitted to the
bar, thought himself a lucky man to get the position even though it
exchanged Boston for life in a neighboring rural city.
"Plenty of trains for Boston every day," Judge Trent had said when the
young fellow arrived. "If either one of us doesn't like the arrangement
you can take one any hour, and no harm done."
That was less than a month ago, but already Calvin Trent had changed
his mind. Should he lose young Dunham, he would regret it.
He regarded John now as the clean-shaven profile bent over a lengthy
document. The judge had the small man's admiration for the stature and
build of his assistant. He liked the sunshine of his smile, the steady
gaze of his eyes. The young man's personality had impressed him from
the first; but it was after the judge had proved the temper of his mind
and quickness of his perception that he allowed these physical
advantages to take their place as valuable assets.
"The boy's well born, and well raised," he said to himself. "I suppose
he's some kind of a fool, he's too young not to be; but there's no sign
of it yet."
It was very pleasant not to have to hurry to the office in the morning,
and not to be obliged to furnish all the brains that were supposed to
be accessible in this home of the law.
After a few minutes' silence Judge Trent looked up again from his
steaming shoes.
"Ever been in love, Dunham?" he asked suddenly.
The young lawyer raised his eyes, with evident effort to bring his
attention from the subject in hand, and regarded the quaint face and
figure of his employer.
The vagueness of his stare caused the judge to stir and cough with some
embarrassment.
"Oh, no matter, of course. I just happened to think of it. When I was
your age I had it bad: thought if I couldn't have that one girl life
wouldn't be worth living." The speaker's foot slipped on the radiator,
and he readjusted his chair.
"Just happened to meet her out there a minute ago;" he jerked the tall
hat in the direction of the street.
"That must have been rather startling." Dunham had by this time
collected his ideas.
"Oh, no. We've both always lived here; she's kept tab on me ever since;
kind of puts the burden of proof on me to show that I can get along
without her, if you understand."
"And you've shown her, eh?"
"'M, pretty so-so."
"You've never married, I believe?"
John did not have to assume an interest. This spare little man was
small only in physique. He was an object of interest to any and every
ambitious young lawyer.
"No, never did." Judge Trent shook his head, and rocked his tilted
chair gently. "I might count up the number of kitchen fires I've
escaped building on cold winter mornings; the number of nocturnal
rambles I've escaped taking with shrieking infants doubled up with the
colic--and then there are my books! What would have become of my books!
My fair one was the pizen-neat kind. She would have dusted them and
driven me to drink!"
Dunham smiled. "And yet those are scarcely facts with which you can
reassure her," he remarked.
Judge Trent caught the younger man's eye with a sympathetic twinkle.
"Precisely; and the sad consequence is that she has never been entirely
reassured. Her name's against her, poor girl--Martha. Careful about
many things."
"Then you had no successor?"
"No, and affairs piled up. I had too much to attend to to renew the
attack. I didn't have time to smooth down her ruffled feathers, so--the
result is that we've each flocked alone. Just as well, just as well,"
continued the speaker, musingly. "What I was thinking of just now was
how many different lives we seem to live in one; how our tastes change;
and at best how few illusions are left to lawyers regarding marriage."
"In other words, you're a confirmed old bachelor. What was it you asked
me a minute ago--if I were in love?"
"Yes, or if you had been."
"Have been dozens of times,--am not," returned Dunham, with the smile
that his employer liked.
"Just so, just so," the latter answered quickly. "We change. Read First
Corinthians, seventh chapter, and if you take Paul's advice and don't
pass the Rubicon, then you 'll be free to change as often as you
please."
Dunham looked up again. "Are you a Bible student, Judge Trent?"
"Student of everything," returned the lawyer, with a short wave of his
thin hand.
"All books except woman's looks, eh?" answered Dunham, returning to his
papers.
"I said I had no successors," remarked the judge, regarding his gaiters
musingly. "I'm not at all sure of that. Miss--Martha was a very
attractive woman. My impression is that in any case she preferred to
concentrate all her faculties upon watching to see that I didn't get
into mischief."
"That's faithfulness, I'm sure," returned Dunham. "The necessity for
building those kitchen fires wouldn't exist now," he added
suggestively.
"Young man, no levity," returned the judge.
There was silence for a few minutes, broken only by the turning of the
crisp papers as Dunham continued his researches. At last the telephone
bell rang and Dunham answered it. As he hung up the receiver Judge
Trent spoke:--
"Just call up the railway station, will you, and secure a chair for me
in the nine o'clock train for Boston Wednesday morning?"
John obeyed, and as he returned to his desk his employer continued:--
"I may need your advice on Wednesday's business, Dunham."
"My advice?" returned the young man, with interest. "Is it in the Evans
case?"
"No," dryly; "it isn't in the Evans case. It's a case of a girl." The
judge scowled at his gaiters and pushed his hat askew. "Hang it, I
don't know anything about girls."
The young lawyer waited, his elbows on his desk.
"Anything that I can do, of course," he said at last.
"Have you any sisters?"
"No."
"Confound you," returned the other impatiently. "What do you know about
it, then?"
"Nearly all there is to know," responded Dunham modestly.
"The conventionalities, the proprieties? Where and how girls may live
and where and how they can't, for instance? Unattached girls whose
relatives don't want them, for I'd like to bet her aunt won't receive
her, and if I should go out of my way to urge it she'd probably turn on
me and tell me to take my own medicine."
"I'd do my best," returned John, when the exasperated tones had
subsided.
"What's the use of obeying St. Paul if your family won't?" went on the
lawyer irritably. "What's the good of avoiding girls of your own, only
to have somebody else's dumped on you?"
"Be calm, Judge," said Dunham, smiling. "I felt a little stage fright
when I thought it was the Evans case; but if it's only girls, I can
attend to them with one hand tied behind me."
Judge Trent regarded him wistfully. "John, do you know what you're
saying? Isn't yours the presumption of ignorance?"
"What? when I told you I had been in love a dozen times? To be sure, I
never met those who've hit me hardest; but cheer up, Judge, I'll stand
by you. What is it?"
"I'm not quite ready to say what it is. I'll fence with Fate by myself
awhile longer." As he spoke Calvin Trent took from his pocket a letter
and began to read it over once more.
"Very well," returned Dunham, picking up his papers. "I'm ready to act
as your second."
The following day Miss Martha Lacey locked the door of her cottage
behind her and set off for the business district of the town. Her hair
was carefully arranged and her bonnet was becoming. Her neighbors were
wont to say with admiration that Martha Lacey, though she did live
alone and was poor in kith, kin, and worldly fortune, never lost her
ambition. She kept an eye to the styles as carefully as the rosiest
belle in town.
"There isn't any sense in a woman letting herself look queer," Miss
Lacey often declared. "I don't mean to look queer."
"It's real sensible of Martha to do as she does," said one neighbor to
the new minister's wife. "She jilted the smartest man in town when she
was young and she's kept on looking the part, as you might say, ever
since. If she'd let herself run down, kind of seedy, everybody'd have
said she was disappointed; but he hasn't ever married--it's Judge
Trent, you know--and the way Martha holds her head up and wears gold
eyeglasses sort of makes folks think he'd be glad to get her any time.
It's real smart of Martha. The judge looks the seedy one. He never did
carry much flesh, but now he's dried up till he ain't much bigger'n a
grasshopper; but smart--Martha's smartness ain't to speak of beside
his. They do say he's as well known in Boston as he is here."
There was an extra determination in Miss Lacey's walk as she moved
along this morning, the watery spring sunshine beaming on the
well-brushed gray tailor gown she had bought ready-made at a sale a
year ago. She was on her way to the law offices of Calvin Trent, a rare
errand indeed and one which, if observed by acquaintances, she knew
would even now "make talk;" but she did not falter, nor look to the
right or left as she at last entered the dingy doorway and ascended the
worn staircase.
Scarcely pausing before the black-lettered door, she walked into the
anteroom, and apparently her entrance sent a communication to the inner
office; for while she stood for a moment looking dubiously at the
uninviting chairs, a tall young man entered the room. Miss Lacey viewed
him with curiosity and surprise.
He greeted her courteously and brought forward one of the chairs. She
wiped the finger of her gray glove along its edge and examined it.
"I guess you don't have ladies here much," she remarked dryly.
"Oh, is it dusty?" he returned, pulling out his handkerchief with a
sudden jerk and wiping the broken cane seat.
"Here's another place;" she pointed an accusing gray finger.
Dunham obediently dusted and she lowered her person gingerly upon the
chair.
"Now don't you put that dirty thing back in your pocket," she said, and
the young man paused midway in the act, and finally laid the
handkerchief on the gray mantelpiece.
"You don't receive many ladies here, I imagine," repeated Miss Lacey,
her nostrils dilating.
"No, very few," returned Dunham, flushed. "What can I do for you,
madam?"
"Nothing, I guess, except dust the chair. I'm sure I'm much obliged to
you for that and I'm sorry that you took your nice handkerchief. You
ought to have some soft cheesecloth here."
"I'll--mention it," said Dunham. "May I ask your business?"
"No, you may not," returned Miss Martha equably. "Is Judge Trent in?"
The young lawyer collected himself. "I represent Judge Trent," he said
briefly.
"Not to me you don't, young man," rejoined the visitor coolly.
They regarded each other for a moment.
"I wish to see Judge Trent," said Martha at last.
"He is very busy; but if you will tell me the nature of"--
"Busy? So am I," returned Miss Lacey brusquely, "and if you imagine
that I am going to climb up to this office and then leave it without
seeing the judge you're mistaken. You might give me something to read
if he'll be long."
"Do you think you would care for Blackstone?" asked the young lawyer.
"There isn't much choice here."
"I shouldn't mind looking at it. I've always known that a little common
sense would revise the law so that a lot of this absurd red tape could
be cut out."
"Then the world has been waiting for you many years; Mrs.--Mrs."--
"Not at all," returned the visitor; "I'm not Mrs. You go into the
office, please, and tell Judge Trent that Miss Martha Lacey would like
to see him on important business."
Dunham nodded; but his head had scarcely regained the perpendicular
when the name began to impress him. "Martha." "Pizen-neat." He bit his
lip, and without venturing again to meet Miss Lacey's cool, incisive
gaze he turned and vanished into the inner office.