THE TRIUMPH
When Virginia and Helen came up the path towards the Curtis home, they
missed the little figure of Charles Augustus hobbling forth to meet them
with joyous greetings.
"We'll go to the front door," suggested Helen. So they passed around
the house and, ascending the steps, knocked at the weather-beaten front
entrance.
"Come in," cried the shrill voice of Charles Augustus. "I can't open
the door."
Virginia obeyed the command of the child with a smile of delight. As she
swung the door back, the pleasant odor of frying doughnuts assailed her
nostrils. Looking through the rooms, she could see Mrs. Curtis in the
kitchen, fork in hand, awaiting their entrance with a look of inquiry
which melted into a smile of welcome as she recognized them.
In the midst of pillows, Charles Augustus sat in one chair with his legs
propped up upon another. As usual, he was bright, cheerful and talkative.
Virginia turned towards the child and then she gave a little gasp of joy
as a big fellow with black eyes and a wonderful smile lifted himself with
a cane and limped towards her.
"Joe!" she trilled, her sparkling blue eyes revealing her heart's
rejoicing. "Joe!" she repeated, in a voice which breathed its own
enchantment.
He was almost to her, his face alight with his happiness.
"Joe!" she whispered again, and gave a startled glance of astonishment
as this huge fellow with dancing eyes stood upon one leg, balanced
himself with his cane and thrust forth an encircling arm. Rooted to the
spot, she could not evade it as it drew her to him and, with fascinated
eyes and curious thrills, she watched his head bend slowly towards her.
"Joe"--this time it was the voice of his mother speaking--"Where did
you meet Virginia?"
His head went up and his arm dropped at his side. Virginia released his
arms which she had clutched and, with reddened, telltale faces, they
turned to Mrs. Curtis.
"We met in South Ridgefield, mother," he told her, and the girl gave
an embarrassed nod of agreement.
"Hum," said Mrs. Curtis. The utterance meant little but her manner
much. She disappeared only to return in a moment with a plate of
doughnuts and a pitcher of milk. "Who is hungry?" she asked.
Among the young people, famine stalked abroad. In its relief, flushed
faces regained their normal color and Helen's mischievous giggles were
quieted sufficiently for her to meet Joe with becoming gravity before
giving her attention to her own sweetheart.
But alas, the course of true love is never smooth. Charles Augustus
made energetic protest when he became aware that Helen proposed to offer
him nourishment by hand after the manner in which infants but recently
weaned are treated. "Lemme be! My hands aren't lame," he objected.
An unhappy look spread over his face. "I get so tired sitting in this
old chair. Every little while, too, mother rubs my leg and works it
up and down. Ding bust it, that hurts."
Helen, giving up her attempt to feed the boy, endeavored to sooth and
comfort him. "In a week or so you will be running about without a sign
of a crutch. Think of that. Won't that be fine?"
"I should be out now," he grumbled. "Something might happen to my
hornet's nest."
"Don't you worry," Helen laughed. "Neither man nor beast will
interfere with that."
"How is Miss Knight?" Virginia asked Joe.
"Bossy as ever," he answered.
"She was a good nurse and she was nice to you, Joe."
"Yes," he admitted with a chuckle; "but she is a whole lot nicer to
Mike Kelly these days."
Virginia was all interest.
"He's as pleased with her as a snow bird at a blizzard. Every time
it was Miss Knight's evening off, he would make an early call upon me
dressed in his best clothes."
There came a knock at the front door.
Hastening to it at a nod from Mrs. Curtis, Helen threw it wide open. Aunt
Kate and Obadiah waited without.
"Daddy," cried Virginia, for the moment blissfully forgetful as she
tried to get around Joe without hurting his outstretched leg.
"Obadiah Dale!" It was Mrs. Curtis who spoke from the doorway into the
dining room and there was something in her voice which held them all.
The happiness had gone from her face, leaving it cold and distorted with
passion as Virginia had seen it.
"Obadiah Dale!"--she fairly hissed the words--"What do you want in
my house? Would you like to do me greater harm--you robber?" She gave
a shrill mirthless laugh and flung her hands towards the sides of the
poorly furnished room. "Look about you. There isn't much left since
you got in your devil's work."
Mrs. Curtis's eyes shifted to Virginia as, startled by this strange
attack upon her father, she waited at Joe's side. It was as if the woman
struggled between aversion and regard. "I never thought you were his
daughter," she snarled.
White, tense and sickened to the depths of her being by the fear of
shameful disclosures, the girl could make no reply.
Joe Curtis was watching his mother with worried eyes. The frightened
faces of Helen and Charles Augustus peeped from behind Aunt Kate who,
from the subdued exclamations and the indignant glances she gave her
brother, was expecting to hear the worst of him.
Clearly, Obadiah was amazed at the woman's words. He stood irresolute,
his throat working as if he were trying to swallow something. At last he
regained the power of speech. "Madam," he began.
"Madam," sneered the woman, "Octavia Curtis, the widow of Augustus
Curtis, the man whose business you ruined by your infernal scheming,
whose wife and two children were dragged by your greed and selfishness
from a life of comfort--to this. What business have you in my house,
you thief?"
Obadiah flushed and quailed under her words. Bewildered and puzzled, a
guilty conscience in business catastrophes made him feel it advisable to
allow his opponent to develop her case.
Mrs. Curtis's words affected Virginia differently. Her face flushed and
her fears passed. "Stop," she interrupted, her eyes flashing angrily.
"What right have you to speak so to my father?"
"Right?" Again that ugly laugh came from Mrs. Curtis as she urged,
"Ask him how he ruined the Curtis mill at Brenton."
Obadiah gave a start.
Aunt Kate, observing her brother through suspicious eyes, noted this.
"As ye sow, so shall ye reap," she quoted, for his greater comfort.
The mill owner glanced hastily towards the door as if seeking a line of
retreat from this assemblage of women and lame men. But Aunt Kate, the
inner keeper of the outer gate, barred his way.
Pale of face but with a determined set to her mouth, Virginia said
softly, "Daddy, explain please. You must Daddy."
"It was a perfectly legitimate business deal. The Curtis mill had notes
upon the market, protected by a mortgage on the plant. I purchased them.
When they became due and were not paid, to protect myself--and you--I
foreclosed and took the mill. I suppose this woman was caught in the
deal," Obadiah answered and moved as if to leave the room.
"Stop, Daddy," the girl commanded. "We must settle this matter now.
Either too much or too little has been said."
"Settle?" Once more that acrimonious laugh came from Mrs. Curtis's
lips. "How are you going to settle for sleepless nights, for worry
and for tears? What can pay for those dreary days which grew into weeks
and months since hope for my children was torn from my life?" She
flung her arms wide in the anguish which tortured her. "How are you
going to wipe out the fact that my poor lame baby"--she pointed at
Charles Augustus--"had to depend upon charity to be able to play as
other boys--plain charity," she almost screamed. "Or that he"--she
indicated Joe--"has been forced into the world to struggle for an
education he might have had in comfort."
"Oh," moaned Virginia. The misery of the story clouded her eyes as they
turned from the passion-torn woman to her father.
The flood of the emotion-driven woman's words seemed to have made
Obadiah helpless. He stood as if awaiting sentence for his evil doing,
an old man abject and forlorn.
As she looked at him, a wave of pity swept over Virginia and her love
for him struggled in her heart, regardless of all that had been said
against him. "My father can't be to blame for all of this. I couldn't
believe it of him," she cried.
It was as if the note of grief and entreaty in the girl's voice tempered
the anger of Mrs. Curtis. She dropped into a chair and began to sob. Joe
Curtis arose hastily, limped over to her side, and tried to sooth her. At
the sound of his mother's grief, Charles Augustus put his head upon
Helen's shoulder and wept also.
Virginia moved over and gently touched the shoulder of the sobbing woman,
who, flinching from contact with the girl's hand, drew herself sharply
away.
"Don't, mother," pleaded Joe.
Virginia withdrew her hand, yet she remained by Mrs. Curtis's chair.
"Tell me the whole story," she begged. "I must know. I have the right
to know."
Even through her own grief, the anxiety and unhappiness of the girl
touched the older woman. She raised her brimming eyes. Her temper had
died away and she spoke rapidly, almost in a monotone, broken by sob
hiccoughs. "At my husband's death every thing that he left me was
invested in our mill. It was a good business and should have given me
and my boys the comforts and even the luxuries of life. Before his death,
he had borrowed money to make improvements, giving notes secured by a
mortgage upon the plant.
"After he had gone, I took charge of the mill and tried to run it
myself. I was not a very good business woman. I had a hard time to pay
the interest on our indebtedness. When the notes came due, I asked for
a renewal but my request was refused. I was thunderstruck. I learned
that your father had bought the notes, and wherever I tried to raise
money I was refused because of his influence as a rival manufacturer.
So I lost my mill and had to meet life, a widow with a baby and a young
boy, a little money, and this old farm."
A flash of her anger returned and she pointed at Obadiah. "My boys are
raised in poverty while _he_ stands there in the pride of his wealth.
When he got the mill he never used it. He closed it, throwing good people
who had worked for us for years out of employment. They had to move
away and sacrifice their little homes. It brought sorrow to them as well
as to me. He, Obadiah Dale, is to blame for all of this."
Aunt Kate wiped a tear from her eye.
"Daddy," Virginia said softly, "did you know the harm that you were
doing to all of these people?" Her eyes searched his, as if to discover
his answer before he could utter it, and her tones beseeched him to
justify her love at the altar of her heart.
Obadiah stiffened. He held up his head and returned the look of his
daughter squarely. He knew that he was giving battle for her love,
aye, even for her respect. The old man was a fighter. "No!" he cried.
"It is unjust to charge me with all of the sorrows and tribulations
of this family. I built the first mill in this country--took the
chances of opening the industry. The Brenton mill was established to
compete with me. There was room for one big plant here and only one.
Augustus Curtis knew it and expected to put me out of business. Mrs.
Curtis"--Obadiah's voice was firm now--"you have said some hard
things about me today in the presence of my daughter and sister. I am
entitled in common justice to my defence. I started in business without
a dollar. Much worse off, I think, than your husband. Business has
been a battle of supremacy with me. I have taken hard licks and I have
given them. I have fought my way. Remember, I had to. A man must win
or lose in business and many are the weapons used. I struck with the
first one at hand and hit the man in front of me. Do you blame a soldier
for the suffering of the dependents of those he kills in battle? I
think not. Mrs. Curtis," he continued, "you never met me before."
"No," she admitted.
"How did you recognize me?"
"My husband pointed you out to me in South Ridgefield," she sobbed.
"Did you ever advertise the fact that you were running that mill?"
"I was afraid to," she moaned. "I used my husband's name."
"You see," said Obadiah to Virginia. "I had no way of knowing that a
woman was running the Brenton mill. I plead guilty to fighting _men_.
When I get whipped I smile. When I put a man out of business he starts
another. He doesn't sit down and cry and blame me for what happens to
his family ever afterwards. I never fought a woman in all of my life."
"It's true, Obadiah. You used to talk back but you never fought with
me. I am afraid that you are going to have to get a camel through a
needle's eye; but you wouldn't fight a woman," interjected Aunt Kate.
Obadiah disregarded his sister's fears and went on, "Did you ever hear
of Dalton, the New York manufacturer?"
Mrs. Curtis nodded.
"Five years ago, he started to put me out of business by buying up the
small mills and pooling them against me. To protect myself, I bought
negotiable paper, covering mills in this locality wherever I could get
it. Where I could get control of the mills, I did it. They were my
competitors and would have taken my business or combined against me
gladly," Obadiah's eyes rested anxiously upon the face of his daughter
as he concluded, "I was fighting Dalton, a more powerful man than
myself, not widows and orphans."
Virginia's face had softened but there was yet a question in her manner.
"I am an old man," Obadiah continued. "I find that my ideas are
changing and my view of life shifting. I have believed that the
accumulation of wealth was everything. I know now that the happy man
must accumulate other things or he will find himself deserted and
miserable with his gold. In my life I have been guilty of many wrongs.
I would right those wrongs if I could. Will you forgive me, Mrs.
Curtis, for unknowingly harming you and yours?"
"No," she cried. "You explain your reasons for loosening the forces
which injured me; but there is no regret in your heart. You'd do the
same thing tomorrow."
He turned to his daughter. "At least, you understand me, Virginia?"
"I know what you have done, Daddy; but Mrs. Curtis has suffered, and
she alone can wipe the slate clean." The girl's face had saddened
again, and as she spoke it was as if she had forgotten that there were
others in the room. "Mother wouldn't have wanted you to make all of
this unhappiness. You brought sorrow and tears where she would have
wanted you to carry laughter and joy. I can't judge you fairly. How
I have longed for you during the past weeks and how I have wanted to
go home. Unless Mrs. Curtis can forgive you, Daddy, you haven't found
mother's way to settle this matter." She gave a queer strained little
cry. "I can never go home with you, Daddy, until you learn to follow her
way," she sobbed, and dropped into a chair.
At the girl's words, Mrs. Curtis had raised her eyes, and as she
listened her face softened. As Virginia sank into the chair, the woman
was beside her, petting and soothing her.
It seemed as if his daughter's words had taken the very heart out of
Obadiah. It was a haggard old man bowed low with trouble who watched her,
the greatness of his longing written plain upon his lined countenance.
Suddenly Mrs. Curtis moved towards him. "Obadiah Dale"--she spoke so
gently that it was hard to recognize her as the one who had so recently
flung the accusations at him--"a moment ago I told you that I could not
forgive you. I was wrong. Your daughter told you that it would have
been her mother's way to have brought laughter and joy to me instead of
sorrow and tears. That which your daughter has done for my son, Charles
Augustus, fills my heart with joy and brings laughter to my lips. She has
followed her mother's way. I can't believe that any man altogether bad
could be the father of such a daughter." She held out her hand to him.
"I forgive you."
"When I was at the office of the Board of Health, yesterday, Virginia,"
Joe announced, as one discussing a topic of great personal interest, "I
was told that your father had agreed to keep the mill waste out of the
river."
There was a scream of delight, and a teary Virginia launched herself into
her father's arms, giving happy cries of endearment. In a moment she
faced Mrs. Curtis, and cried, "He's perfectly grand. He'll do anything
to right your wrongs."
Mrs. Curtis smiled. "I think that we had better let your father forget
my troubles for a moment," she urged.
"Land sakes," ejaculated Aunt Kate in a loud whisper, "I'm glad to
see that woman laugh. I was afraid that she loved her troubles so much
she wouldn't give them up."
"Hush, mother, she'll hear you," expostulated Helen.
Thus repressed, Aunt Kate delivered a moral lesson to Charles Augustus
in a voice heard all over the room. "It is easier to receive thanks for
doing nice things, Charles, than to have to beg forgiveness for doing
mean ones."
Fortunately Obadiah, diligently engaged at that moment in erasing the
past, was deaf to his sister's remarks. He told Mrs. Curtis, "I'll
re-open the Brenton mill as soon as I can have it overhauled. I can use
it on some contracts I have. The profits shall be yours. When you can
repay the amount of the notes from them, I'll transfer the mill back
to you. If you wish, I'll buy it from you or rent it until your son is
capable of assuming charge of it."
He faced Joe and said, "I understand that you'll graduate from college
this June. There'll be a position waiting for you in my mill."
"In South Ridgefield?" Virginia inquired anxiously.
Obadiah gave his daughter a keen glance and then stared at Joe
appraisingly before he answered. "Yes, in South Ridgefield, until his
mother wants him to take charge of her own business. By that time, if
he has brains and follows my plans for him, he should be the finest
young mill executive in this part of the country."
The youthful Charles Augustus came under the mill owner's eye. "I'll
see that every expense connected with the operation upon this young man
is paid. We don't want outsiders in on that."
He perceived Helen. "Well, well, how you have grown," he declared in
surprise. "You want to be a teacher. I'll send you to college."
"Goodness knows, Obadiah," protested Aunt Kate, "a body would think
it was Christmas." She viewed him doubtfully. "I am afraid that you
were always inclined to be a little extravagant."
From the moment that his daughter embraced him, happiness had filled
the soul of the mill owner. The difficulties of the past few days were
forgotten. He beamed at his sister, generosity oozing from every pore.
"Your house needs painting, Kate. I'll have it done. I'll sell that
plug of a horse you have and buy you one that is broken or get you an
automobile."
"Stop right there, Obadiah," she commanded. "I have managed my affairs
for years without your help. When you talk about selling a horse like
Archimedes, I doubt your judgment. Look there!" She pointed proudly
through the window. "Who'd care to own a finer horse than that?"
Even as the assembled ones followed Aunt Kate's finger, Archimedes,
wearied by the prolonged call, gathered his feet beneath him and with a
care for the shafts evidencing practice, sank to the ground. From this
position of comfort, usually reserved by most well bred horses for the
privacy of the box stall, Archimedes viewed his surroundings apparently
with great complacency.