The visit of the president of the National Steel Company was the
floodtide of the year to Adamsville. On Paul Judson, both as President
of the Commercial Club and through his connection with the mining
companies, fell the largest share of the reflected glamor from the
guest's powerful personality.
After the luncheon at the new Steelmen's Club, the party crowded into
cars, to inspect the region's mineral development.
"Eight solid miles of mountain here," Paul's inclusive gesture swept the
stretch from Hazelton to far beyond North Adamsville up the valley,
"five other locations within a ten mile radius ... seventeen camps in
all."
"It's a big plant, Mr. Judson."
"It's the largest in the South, sir. Coal yonder," he indicated the
valley beyond Shadow Mountain, "only nine miles as the crow flies. The
cheapest iron and steel region in the world. They don't grow that close
together in Pittsburgh, the Lakes, or anywhere."
"A wonderful opportunity.... We're prepared to talk business."
"So are we." Both smiled the comprehending smile of men of achievement.
Sam Ross and urbane Judge Florence took the visitor for a round of the
patent tipples. "We're just getting over a little strike in these
mines," the Judge expanded.
"I've followed it. Came out all right, didn't it?"
"Oh, yes. But do you know, those fellows hung out for over a year! And
they were beaten from the start."
"I know. In the Colorado trouble----" Reminiscences came in opulent
detail.
Governor Tennant, a member of the receiving party, stayed behind for a
word with Paul. "Did Jerry Florence speak to you for me?"
"Not yet...."
"He will, when he has the chance. My second term's up next year, Paul.
The state wants a business governor. Adamsville hasn't had her chance
for five terms.... Would you?..."
The owner of the mines drove his hands into his pockets, clenched to
mask the sudden exhilaration. His voice remained unthrilled. "It's out
of my line, Bob.... I doubt if it could go through."
"Not a doubt of it. The primary's the election, remember; we can make
the papers and the politicians so insistent, that you can't refuse.
You'd hardly have opposition."
"I'll see what the Judge thinks.... You'll hear from me by Friday."
"The offer stands."
The people's executive motored after the guest cars.
Paul Judson stood alone on the old cottage crest, surveying the
overnight growth of the city toward his mountain. The houses on East
Highlands had lapped closer and closer, until they broke in a spray over
the foothills of the ore-rich summit.
Managing vice-president of the biggest mining business in the state,
third largest land-owner in Bragg County, governor after next January!
Well, he had gotten where he had planned, sixteen uneven years ago.
He recalled vaguely the vision that he had had, when he had sat on the
same crest beside Nathaniel Guild, and decided to purchase. He would
bring the city, and the state, to the feet of the mountain.... He had
done it.
The jutting enginehouse smokestacks, the ramp offices to the right, the
snarl and screech of the loaded cars on the narrow-gauge lines, forced
themselves into his attention. Not a scene of beauty; and there was a
charred desolation where Hillcrest Cottage had once spread its graceful
lines.
It was not the dream he had had. A man dreamed blindly; life brought to
pass a substitute instead of the sought goal. It was a necessary
process; since dreams must conflict, and the restless shift of things
constantly opened new possibilities, closed old ones. No, it was not
what he had pictured.... There was no son beside him now, to take up the
work in turn and pass it on to endless Judsons. Pelham.... Hollis in
service, too pleased with the work to give it up.... Ned already
determined to be a surgeon....
But it was a magnificent achievement.
Musing, he walked over the grayed site of the old house. His toe met an
obstacle jutting in the grass. He poked it up with his cane. It was the
fused handle of the Bohemian glass epergne which had been grandfather
Judson's. He slipped it into his pocket to show Mary.
His wife, her face lined and colorless, as if from too many hours and
years spent indoors, listened with intent attention to his account of
the afternoon. Two sickly spots of color glowed at what the governor had
said.
"But ... it will mean a hard contest, will it not?"
"I don't think so. The primary is the only chance for a real fight; and
the Tennant crowd will stop that in advance. You'll have to brighten up
a bit, Mary. You ought to do more entertaining...."
"I'm not very strong, Paul."
His gruff "Nonsense!" was the prelude to the further account of the
planned amalgamation with National Steel. "We're still to have control
of this district; Florence and I will be elected directors. It had to
come; competition is waste; cooperation is the modern method."
His wife sat with her eyes intent upon the melted fragment of colored
glass in her hand. She turned it this way and that, up before the fading
light, seeking what semblance of the colorful old token of Jackson life
remained in it, what part was merely a charred, dead fragment of happier
beauty.
"So I thought," he continued, unaware of her absorption, "that we could
entertain the visiting gentlemen and their wives at dinner to-morrow
evening."
A pinched expression of pain crossed her face. "You have not realized,
Paul, that I am frailer this spring than any time since Ned was
born...."
"I mean at the Steelmen's Club, not here. It won't be any trouble...."
"I can make the effort."
"You must see Dr. Giles. I had a talk with him about you; he says it's
only nerves. If you'd quit thinking about that old fool that shot
himself in my office, and those niggers that fooled around the place
until they got shot.... There's nothing really wrong with you. Nell must
give up the art school; you need someone to look after you."
"She doesn't want to come; she's happier there."
"You ask Dr. Giles." He went on with elaborate suggestions about the
dinner; Mary Judson laid down the blackened, fused handle of glass; then
held it again against the darkened light without. Hardly a glint of
color remained.... That night she laid it away upon a closet shelf in
one of the unused rooms of the great house.
By Friday, after a long talk with Judge Florence, Paul had made up his
mind. He had his secretary wire the governor to run back to Adamsville
for a consultation; he sent word to Robert Kane, who had left the
directorate to succeed Pelham as state mining inspector, to meet him
half an hour before the governor was due. No chance that either would
fail the engagement; one crook of his little finger, and the state came
at his bidding. The iron mountain had given that power to its iron
master--a magnetism repellent but irresistible.
When the two builders of the mining strength rose to meet the governor,
there was a subdued glitter of expectation in the eye of the younger
man. He took the governor's hand with a new assurance.
Bob Tennant--"Whiskey-barrel Tennant"--had sought his accustomed solace
on the ride up from Jackson; his face was flushed brick-red, although
his tones were still straight.
"Well, Paul--am I in the presence of the next governor?" He essayed a
satisfactory bow with oldtime courtliness.
"... Yes," Paul answered slowly.
"That's great, old man!"
"Shake hands with him, Bob--Mr. Robert Kane, your mining inspector."
Tennant's self-possession bridged the surprise. "So he's your
trump-card!"
"Can you put it over?"
"Whatever you say goes with me, Paul; whatever I say, goes with the
state. You won't mind frankness, Mr. Kane; we're practical men. You
didn't want to run yourself, Paul?"
The magnate walked the length of the office, smoothing a cigar between
his fingers. He tore off the silver wrapper, rolled it into a ball, and
flung it deftly into an open basket. "There's a lot of soreness about
that strike still, Bob; it's hardly worth the trouble. Jerry Florence
agrees with my idea. Kane'll make a good man; his gift union card is
worth a few votes. You have something else we need."
"Speak it out," Tennant nodded with vigorous affability. "Anything in
heaven or hell for a friend--ain't that what they all say about Bob
Tennant, old man?"
"Yes.... Todd Johnson's an old man, Bob; ready to retire. You can keep
me in mind for the next senatorial vacancy; say within two years."
"Why didn't I think of that! Well, gentlemen, we'll regard that as
settled. Let's go by the club, and do a little celebrating."
"We'll join you there in an hour," the astute iron man, half-pitying the
other's craving, assured him. "Wait for us."
When Tennant had gone, the master walked throughout the office, rolling
the unlighted cigar with satisfaction around the rim of his teeth.
"He'll do as he says, Kane; we furnish the funds.... You'll have a job,
the next four years."
"Matters in general? The war?"
Judson regarded him thoughtfully. "It won't last four years. There's
certain victory, now that our country's in. I'm thinking about
conditions to follow. You see what's happening in Russia----"
Kane laughed self-consciously. "We wouldn't be safe there. In some
mining corner, where the radicals control, they jailed all the
mine-owners; even shot one, for being a monarchist. But here, in this
country----"
"That's the idea. We've got to convince the American workingman that he
is never to turn on the creator of his prosperity. We'll have sporadic
unrest; and that spineless bunch at Washington add to it, by kowtowing
to the railroad brotherhoods, and even allowing unions among government
employees. We can stiffen up their back-bones."
"Why, our workingman is not only the best paid in the world, he's
getting a larger share all the time--even in some lines in Adamsville."
"Yes.... That's what we must stop. We did it, to the miners. What we've
done here, we can do elsewhere. Patriotism, prosperity--these answer any
discontent. Elections or strikes, we can't lose, with these as achieved
slogans. Now that we're in National Steel, we have their backing as
well. The mines are safe; we've got to keep them so. If once we give way
an inch, they'll demand two more. I know you'll hold fast."
"Yes.... As governor, I'll hold fast."
"Now to find Bob Tennant, and keep him alive until he has you elected."
They left the watchman to darken the office, and departed for the
Steelmen's Club.
The weeks that followed that last strike meeting pushed Pelham into
deepening despondency. The Charities work was over; at the end he
noticed a growing aloofness in the philanthropy offices. His father and
the iron men contributed heavily; why should the son be welcomed?
Louise was gone; he had made no effort to fill her place, although
Dorothy Meade had stopped him on the street one morning, and looked
searchingly into his face--less as friend of Jane, than as if to
appraise the changes in him, and measure him for a vacancy in her
days.... She need not look there; he felt that that yesterday was not
worth reviving. Jane's absence removed a substantial joy from his life;
the mere bodily gap was not insistent enough to warrant casual or
commercial filling.
A burst of energy sent him after permanent employment. The doors were
shut kindly in his face; the mines would have none of him; and he found
that the corporations' fingers were upon the whole city.
"Of course, I can find something for you," Lane Cullom consoled,
"but--mere office work; not what you're fitted for, my boy."
Adamsville was locked to him. The moribund socialist movement would use
his voluntary services; but he needed a livelihood. Serrano, Jensen,
Mrs. Spigner, on a hurried visit, had called by; the comrades were
reacting to him, though the unions held off. But Adamsville would need a
scorifying industrial schooling before solidarity could come. He had
lost his craving for the role of teacher ... even if he had been
acceptable.
He must leave Adamsville. He confided this to Jensen, and the
Hernandezes. "I might organize for the National Socialist Office, or do
something for the New York Philanthropy Bureau."
"That's bourgeois, comrade," objected Mrs. Hernandez.
"I must make a living."
The morning's mail, a few days later, contained a curt note from Jane;
his fingers tore it open with awkward haste.
"I hear that you are planning to leave Adamsville," it ran. "Even if we
can't live together, I can not see you waste your possibilities, here or
elsewhere. Come by and see me, before doing anything definite. I am your
friend, as long as you will have me."
He hurried to the phone, pausing a moment, with hand over the
transmitter, to steady his voice.
She told him he could come at once.
There was no buoyancy in his greeting. "I've made a mess of things,
Jane."
"It was disgraceful," she sympathized vigorously, "raking up that old
story. Pig-headed fools always turn on you."
"They were sick of the whole thing; they couldn't see that the strike
had brought them closer to victory."
She leaned forward, lips parted in the old bewitching way, her brown
eyes radiant. "Did your father arrange that?"
"He's strong on family."
"It was a shame."
"I meant more than that.... My savage report as mining inspector....
Then--with you."
Her head remained averted.
"Maybe you'd rather I wouldn't mention that----"
Gradually she faced him. "I think I understand that ... too. You're not
worse than most husbands.... Only, I wish you'd finished sowing your
wild oats before your marriage."
"I felt----"
"You see how it is, Pelham," she explained as gravely as to a little
child. "You had to choose between me, and other women. You made your
choice."
"Was it ... necessarily ... final, Jane?"
Her frank eyes searched his face. "Sometimes I tell myself it ought to
be. It's hard.... You see, I love you, Pelham."
"Suppose I came to you, on your terms...."
"I should reserve the right to act as you did, if I ever wished to."
He nodded, trying to make out what was going on within her mind.
"I would tell you, though," she went on. "With that understanding ...
yes."
He did not touch her, sensing the physical revulsion she must still
feel. His voice trembled in joyful disbelief. "You'll really----"
"I am your wife. And I love you."
Her fingers brushed his hand; he shivered in passionate repression.
"Jane----" A troubled crease roughened his forehead, "I'll try----"
"That's all I can ask."
They sat in dynamic silence, intent on their diverse thoughts. He
relaxed into restful satisfaction, havened again; her doubtful fancies
strove to shape of crumbling material some firm future for them both.
Her words came with difficulty. "What you ought to do, Pell, is to get
work with the Federal Mining Commission. Washington outlooks are broader
than Adamsville; particularly in war-time. That's your chance."
Worn with multiplied disappointments, he was unable to follow her
enthusiasm. "We couldn't----"
She filled in details. "Senator Johnson would put in a word for you.
Congressman Head's practically a socialist. Why not get it?"
"If you realized how downhearted----"
"You write to-morrow." She smoothed his tousled hair with the old
familiar gesture. "It's an endless fight, dear."
"I think you'd better sell the car," she told him, the morning the
federal commission arrived. "You may be sent anywhere now--our bank
balance is low." She stopped halfway down the stairs, to wipe off a
picture dusty from its weeks of neglect.
"It's fine to be back in harness again!"
"Marital, Pell?"