"They seem to be in such a pother, out in the world," Isabelle remarked to
Margaret, as she turned over the leaves of her husband's letter. "The
President is calling names, and a lot of good people are calling names
back. And neither side seems to like being called names. John doesn't like
it, and he calls names. And they sulk and won't play marbles. It all sounds
like childish squabbling."
Margaret, who was unusually absent-minded this evening, sighed:--
"So many desires of men, always struggling at cross-purposes! I haven't
read the papers for months! They don't seem real up here, somehow. What's
happening?"
"I haven't opened my papers, either. Look there!" Isabelle pointed to a
pile of unwrapped newspapers in the corner. "But I must go through them and
see what John is grumbling about. It isn't like John to grumble at
anything." Then she read from her husband's letter: "The President in his
besotted vanity and colossal ignorance has succeeded in creating trouble
that twenty Presidents won't be able to settle. The evils which he may have
corrected are nothing to those he has brought upon innocent people.... So
far as our road is concerned, this prejudiced and partisan investigation,
instigated by the newspapers and notoriety seekers, will do no great
harm.... I suppose you have seen the garbled press account of my
cross-examination,--don't let it disturb you."...
Isabelle looked up.
"I wonder what he means by that! 'My cross-examination'? It must be
something rather out of the ordinary to stir John to such
expression,--'Besotted vanity and colossal ignorance.' Whew!"
After Margaret left, Isabelle began abstractedly to strip the wrappers from
the newspapers, glancing at the thickest headlines:--
BANK FAILURE--SUICIDE OF BANK PRESIDENT--SENSATIONAL DIVORCE, etc.
Here it was at last:--
THE ATLANTIC AND PACIFIC ON THE GRILL!! INVESTIGATION OF THE GREAT
RAILROAD'S COAL BUSINESS
Isabelle scanned the newspaper column indifferently. As Margaret had said,
the squabbles of the great, conglomerate, writhing business world seemed
remote indeed. They had never been actual to her, though she was the
daughter of a merchant. In the Colonel's house, as in most American homes
of the well-to-do, the newspaper was regarded as a necessary evil, largely
composed of lies and garbled rumors. It was taken for granted that almost
everything to be seen in print was vitiated by sensational falsehood, and
so far as "business"--mystic word!--was concerned, all "news" was pure
fabrication. This sceptical attitude had been intensified by John, who
regarded any criticism of the actions of capital as dictated by envy, as
"unpatriotic," aimed at the efforts of the most energetic and respectable
element in the community; moreover, "socialistic," that is, subversive of
the established order, etc. According to John the ablest men would always
"get on top," no matter what laws were made. And getting on top meant that
they would do what they wished with their own, i.e. capital. Thus without
thinking about it Isabelle had always assumed that men in general were
envious of their betters. Sometimes, to be sure, she had suspected that
this simple theory might be incomplete, that her husband and his friends
might be "narrow." Some people whose opinion she respected even approved of
the President's policy in seeking to curb the activities of capital. But
she had slight interest in the vexed question, and skipped all references
to industrial turmoil in her reading.
So to-night her eyes slipped carelessly down the column, which was not
intelligible without previous accounts, and she continued to rip the
wrappers from newspapers, letting the stiff parcels of paper drop to the
floor. She was thinking of what Renault had said, bits of his phrases
constantly floating through her mind. If he had only been more precise! She
wanted to know _what_ to do,--here, now. He had said: "Wait! It will all be
clear. It makes little difference what it is. You will find the path." With
her eager temperament that was all baffling. Margaret had found her
path,--had seen her Vision, and it had brought to her peace. Her restless,
bitter nature had been wonderfully changed into something exquisitely calm
and poised, so that her very presence, silent in the room, could be
felt....
Isabelle's eyes caught the headline in the paper she was opening:--
OFFICIALS OF THE ATLANTIC AND PACIFIC BEFORE THE FEDERAL GRAND JURY
JOHN S. LANE, THIRD VICE-PRESIDENT OF THE ROAD, INDICTED
Isabelle's mind suddenly woke to the present, and she began to read
breathlessly: "As a result of the recent investigations by the Interstate
Commerce Commission of the relation between the Atlantic and Pacific and
certain coal properties, officials of that system have been examined by a
special Grand Jury, and it is rumored," etc. Isabelle glanced at the date
of the paper. It was a month old! Even now, perhaps, her husband was on
trial or had already been tried for illegal acts in the conduct of his
business, and she knew nothing about it! Another paper had the item: "This
time the district attorney under direction from Washington will not be
content to convict a few rate clerks or other underlings. The indictment
found against one of the vice-presidents of this great corporation that has
so successfully and impudently defied the law will create a profound
impression upon the whole country. It is a warning to the corporation
criminals that the President and his advisers are not to be frightened by
calamity-howlers, and will steadfastly pursue their policy of going higher
up in their effort to bring the real offenders before the courts. The
coming trial before federal Judge Barstow will be followed with intense
interest," etc., etc.
Isabelle rapidly uncovered the remaining newspapers, arranging them in the
order of dates, and then glanced through every column in search of news
about the trial, even to the editorial comments on the action of the Grand
Jury. The earlier papers that had the account of the investigation by the
Commission had been destroyed unread, but she inferred from what she saw
that the affair rose from the complaint of independent mine-owners in
Missouri and Indiana that they were discriminated against by the railroad.
The federal authorities were trying to establish the fact of conspiracy on
the part of the Atlantic and Pacific to control the coal business along its
lines. There were hints of an "inside ring," whose operations tended to
defraud both stockholders and public....
As she read the wordy columns of report and suspicion, there suddenly shot
into Isabelle's mind a memory of a Sunday afternoon in Torso when she and
John had ridden by Mr. Freke's mines and John had said in reply to her
question, "Mr. Freke and I do business together." Mr. Freke was the
president of the Pleasant Valley Coal Company,--a name that occurred often
in the newspaper report, the name which had been spread across the black
sheds she had seen that Sunday afternoon. Now she remembered, also, that
she had had to sign certain papers for transfer of stock when John had sold
something to put the money--into coal. And last of all she remembered at
the very beginning of her life in Torso the face of that man in her
husband's office and how he had begged for cars, and his cry, "My God! I
shall go bankrupt!" Out of it all--the newspaper paragraphs, the legal
terms, the editorial innuendoes, the memories--there was shaped something
like a coherent picture of what this dispute really meant, and her
husband's concern in it.
It was now midnight. Isabelle's mind was stung to keen apprehension. She
did not know whether John was guilty of what the government was seeking to
prove him guilty. She could not judge whether the government was justified
in bringing suit against the railroad and its officials. There was
doubtless the other side, John's side. Perhaps it was a technical crime, a
formal slip, as she had been told it was in other cases where the
government had prosecuted railroads. That would come out clearly at the
trial, of course. But the fact that stared her in the face was that her
husband was to be _tried_--perhaps was on trial this very day--and she did
not even know it! She reached for the papers again and searched for the
date of the trial of the coal cases in the federal court. It was to open
the nineteenth of March--it was now the twenty-second! And the last paper
to reach her was the issue of the eighteenth. The trial had already begun.
Isabelle paced the narrow breadth of her chamber. Her husband was on trial,
and he had not written her. His last letters, which she had destroyed, had
betrayed signs of irritation, disturbance.... Renault's charge, "The curse
of our day is egotism," rang in her ears. She had been so much concerned
over her own peace of mind, her own soul, that she had had no room for any
perception--even for the man with whom she had lived side by side for ten
years! Love or not, satisfaction or not in marriage, it must mean something
to live for ten years of life with another human being, eat bread with him,
sleep under the same roof with him, bear a child to him.... And there in
her silent room Isabelle began to see that there was something in marriage
other than emotional satisfaction, other than conventional cohabitation.
"Men are given to you women to protect--the best in them!" "You live off
their strength,--what do you give them? Sensuality or spirit?" Her husband
was a stranger; she had given him nothing but one child.
Isabelle opened her trunks and began to pack. There was a train south from
White River at eight-thirty, which connected with the New York express.
Molly could follow later with the governess.... She flung the things
loosely into the trunks, her mind filled with but one idea. She must get to
St. Louis as soon as possible. 'John--my husband--is being tried out there
for dishonest conduct in his business, and we are so far apart that he
doesn't even mention it in his letters!'
At last, the packing over, she crouched by the embers and tried to warm her
numb hands. This burst of decided will which had made her swiftly prepare
for the journey gave out for the moment.... What should she do out there,
after all? She would merely be in the way and annoy John. And with a
strength that startled her came the answer, 'After all, we are man and
wife; he is my husband, and he is in trouble!'
It would not be possible to see Renault before she left. Well, he had
spoken his message to her, having chosen his own time. And already his
prophecy was coming about. The thing to do was plain. The Vision was there,
and the voice had spoken out of the depths. She was extraordinarily calm,
as if raised above doubt, the confusing calls of personal consideration.
There might be disgrace to come for her husband. There was the undoubted
miserable failure of her marriage,--the strong possibility of her husband's
impassive coldness at her futile flight to his side, at this hour. But
there was no Fear! ... And serenely she dropped into sleep.