sorry enough as it is." Never in all his life had he felt more
uncomfortable. He could not bring himself to meet her gaze, feeling
that his own face must be on fire.
"What a queer chap you are! Am I so unattractive that you really want
to rush off after those horses?" He said nothing, and she went on after
a moment of hesitation: "I have known men who would have thought it a
privilege to be left alone with me like this."
"I--have no doubt."
"You remember, for instance, I told you there was one man at Taboga
whom I did not wish to see?"
"Yes--at the sanitarium."
"Well, something like this happened once--with him--and I told Stephen."
"And did you tell Mr. Cortlandt what I did?"
"Do you think I would have come riding with you if I had?" She shook
her head. "Kirk, I used to think you were an unusually forward young
man, but you're not very worldly, are you?"
"N-no--yes! I guess I'm as wise as most fellows."
"Sometimes I think you are very stupid."
He began firmly: "See here, Mrs. Cortlandt, you have been mighty good
to me, and I'm indebted to you and your husband for a whole lot. I am
terribly fond of you both."
She clipped a crimson bloom from its stem with a vicious blow of her
crop, then, with eyes fixed upon the fallen flower, broke the awkward
pause that followed.
"I suppose," she said, half defiantly, "you know how things are with
Stephen and me--everybody must know, I suppose. I have done a lot of
thinking lately, and I have made up my mind that the last appeal of
what is right or wrong lies with one's self. I'm not going to care any
longer what the world thinks of my actions so long as my own heart
justifies them. Happiness--that is what I want, and I will have it--I
will have it at any cost. It is my right. Because a woman marries
without love, is it right for her to forego love all her life? I think
not."
She looked up, and with a change of tone ran on swiftly: "I have
studied you for a long time, Kirk. I know the sort of man you are. I
know you better than you know yourself. Very lately I have begun to
study myself, too, and I know, at last, the sort of woman I am." She
drew near and laid a hand on each shoulder, forcing him to look
straight into her eyes. "I am not like most women; I can't do things by
halves; I can't temporize with vital things; I prefer to experiment,
even blindly. I used to think I was born to rule, but I think now that
a woman's only happiness lies in serving; and I used to believe I was
contented, when all the time I was waiting for something and didn't
know it. Don't be silly now; you're just like every other man."
"I can't pretend to misunderstand you, although--Listen!" He cut his
words short. "Here comes some one."
She turned her head, as from the direction their mounts had taken came
the sound of approaching hoots.
"Natives from the hills." She nodded carelessly toward the purple
mountains back of them. But the next moment she gave a little gasp of
consternation. Out from the overhung path, with a great rustling of
leaves, came, not the expected flea-bitten Panama horse, but a familiar
bay, astride of which was Stephen Cortlandt. He was leading Marquis and
Gyp by their bridles, and reined in at sight of his wife and her
companion.
"Hello!" he said. "I caught your horses for you."
"Jove! That's lucky!" Kirk greeted the husband's arrival with genuine
relief. "They bolted when we got down to take a drink, and we were
getting ready for a long walk. Thanks, awfully."
"No trouble at all. I saw them as they came out on the main road."
Cortlandt's pigskin saddle creaked as he bent forward to deliver the
reins. He was as cool and immaculate as ever. He met Edith's eyes
without the slightest expression. "Nice afternoon for a ride."
"If I had known you were riding to-day you might have come with us,"
she said.
He smiled in his wintry fashion, then scanned the surroundings
appreciatively.
"Pretty spot, isn't it? If you are going back, I'll ride with you."
"Good enough. May I give you a hand, Mrs. Cortlandt?" Kirk helped Edith
to her seat, at which her husband bowed his thanks. Then the three set
out in single file.
"Which way?" inquired Stephen as they reached the highroad.
"Back to town, I think," Edith told him, "And you?"
"I'm not ready yet. See you later." He raised his hat and cantered
easily away, while the other two turned their horses' heads toward the
city.
XXI
THE REST OF THE FAMILY
The time for Senor Garavel's return having arrived, Kirk called at the
bank, and found not the least difficulty in gaining an audience.
Indeed, as soon as he had reminded the banker of their former meeting,
he was treated with a degree of cordiality that surpassed his
expectations.
"I remember quite well, sir," said Garavel--"'La Tosca.' Since you are
a friend of Mrs. Cortlandt I shall be delighted to serve you."
Now that they were face to face, Kirk felt that he distinctly approved
of Chiquita's father. This dignified, distinguished-looking gentleman
awaited his pleasure with an air of leisurely courtesy that would have
made him under other circumstances very easy of approach. But there was
a keenness in his dark eyes that suggested the futility of beating
round the bush. Kirk felt suddenly a little awkward.
"I have something very particular to say to you," he began,
diffidently, "but I don't know just how to get at it."
Garavel smiled graciously. "I am a business man."
"This isn't business," blurted Kirk; "it's much more important. I want
to have it over as quickly as possible, so I'll be frank. I have met
your daughter, Mr. Garavel"--the banker's eyes widened in a look of
disconcerting intensity--"and I am in love with her--sort of a shock,
isn't it? It was to me. I'd like to tell you who I am and anything else
you may wish to know."
"My dear sir, you surprise me--if you are really serious. Why, you have
seen her but once--a moment, at the theatre!"
"I met her before that night, out at your country place. I had been
hunting, and on my way home through the woods I stumbled upon your
swimming-pool. She directed me to the road."
"But even so!"
"Well, I loved her the first instant I saw her."
"I knew nothing of this. If you had reason to think that your suit
would be acceptable, why did you not come to me before?"
"I couldn't. I didn't know your name. I was nearly crazy because I
couldn't so much as learn the name of the girl I loved!" Kirk plunged
confusedly into the story of his search for Chiquita.
"That is a strange tale," said Senor Garavel, when he had finished--"a
very strange tale--and yet you did well to tell it me. At present I do
not know what to think. Young men are prone to such romantic fancies,
rash and ill-considered. They are, perhaps, excusable, but---"
"Oh, I suppose you can't understand how a fellow falls so deep in love
on such short acquaintance, but I have been brooding over this for
months--there's nothing hasty or ill-considered about it, I can assure
you. I am terribly hard hit, sir; it means everything to me."
"If you would tell me something about yourself, I might know better in
what light to regard this affair."
"Gladly--though there isn't much to tell. Just now I'm working on the
P.R.R. as assistant to Runnels--the Master of Transportation, you know.
I like the work and expect to be promoted. I have a little money--just
enough to give me a fresh start if I should lose out here, and--oh,
well, I'm poor but honest; I suppose that's about the size of it." He
paused, vaguely conscious that he had not done himself justice. What
else was there to say about Kirk Anthony? Then he added as an
afterthought:
"My father is a railroad man, in Albany, New York."
"In what capacity is he employed, may I ask?" said Garavel, showing
something like real interest.
Kirk grinned at this, and, seeing a copy of Bradstreet's on the
banker's table, turned to his father's name, which he pointed out
rather shamefacedly. Senor Garavel became instantly less distant.
"Of course the financial world knows Darwin K. Anthony," said he. "Even
we modest merchants of the tropics have heard of him; and that his son
should seek to win success upon his own merits is greatly to his
credit. I congratulate you, sir, upon your excellent progress."
"I hope to make good," said Kirk, simply, "and I think I can." Then he
flushed and hesitated as a realization of the situation swept over him.
Could he gain the favor of Chiquita's father under false pretences?
Surely it was only just that a man should stand upon his own merits,
and yet--it didn't seem quite right. At length, he said, with an effort:
"I ought to tell you, sir, that I am not on good terms with my father,
at present. In fact, he has cast me off. That is why I am here
supporting myself by hard work, instead of living in idleness. But I'm
beginning to like the work--and I'll make good--I'll do it if only to
show my father his mistake. That's what I care about most. I don't want
his money. It's easier to make money than I thought. But I must
succeed, for his sake and my own."
Despite his embarrassment, his face shone with sudden enthusiasm. He
looked purposeful and aggressive, with a certain sternness that sat
well upon his young manhood. Garavel lifted his brows.
"May I inquire the cause of this--estrangement?"
"Oh, general worthlessness on my part, I suppose. Come to think of it,
I must have been a good deal of a cross. I never did anything very
fierce, though." He smiled a little sadly. "I don't wonder that I fail
to impress you."
A quick light of thought flashed through the banker's eyes. He was a
keen judge of men.
"Well, well," he said, with a trace of impatience, "there is no need to
go into the matter further. Your proposal is impossible--for many
reasons it is impossible, and yet--your spirit is commendable."
"Does that mean you won't even allow me to see your daughter?"
"It would be useless."
"But I love Gertrudis," said Kirk, desperately.
Garavel looked a trifle pitying.
"You are by no means the first," he said; "I have been besieged by
many, who say always the same thing--without Gertrudis they cannot,
they will not, they should not live. And yet I have heard of no deaths.
At first I was greatly concerned about them--poor fellows--but most of
them are married now, so I not do take your words too seriously." He
laughed good-naturedly. "You unemotional Americans do not love at first
sight."
"_I_ do, sir."
"Tut! It is but admiration for a beautiful girl who--I say it--is
wicked enough to enjoy creating havoc. Take time, my boy, and you will
smile at this madness. Now, let us talk of something else."
"It is no use, sir, I have it bad."
"But when you make such a request as this, you assume to know the young
lady's wishes in the matter."
"Not at all. Without your consent I don't believe she'd allow herself
to even like me. That is why I want to fix it with you first."
"In that, at least, you are quite right, for Gertrudis is a good girl,
and obedient, as a general rule; but--it is impossible. Her marriage
has been arranged."
"Do you think that is quite fair to her? If she loves Ramon Alfarez---"
Once again Garavel's brows signalled surprise. "Ah, you know?"
"Yes, sir. I was about to say, if she really loves him, I can't make
any difference; but suppose she should care for me?"
"Again it could make no difference, once she had married Ramon. But she
is too young to know her own mind. These young girls are
impressionable, romantic, foolish. I can see no object in deliberately
courting trouble. Can you? In affairs of the heart it is well to use
judgment and caution--qualities which come only with age. Youth is
headstrong and blinded by dreams, hence it is better that marriage
should be arranged by older persons."
"Exactly! That's why I want you to arrange mine." The banker smiled in
spite of himself, for he was not without a sense of humor, and the
young man's sincerity was winning.
"It is out of the question," he said; "useless to discuss. Forgetting
for the moment all other considerations, there is an obstacle to your
marriage into a Spanish family, which you do not stop to consider--one
which might well prove insurmountable. I speak of religion."
"No trouble there, sir."
"You are, then, a Catholic?"
"It was my mother's faith, and I was brought up in it until she died.
After that, I--sort of neglected it. You see, I am more of a Catholic
than anything else."
"What we call a 'bad Catholic'?"
"Yes, sir. But if I were not, it wouldn't make any difference. Chiquita
is my religion."
"Who?" The father started.
"I--I call her that," Kirk explained, in confusion. "To myself, of
course."
"Indeed! So do I," said Senor Garavel, dryly. For a moment he frowned
in meditation. There were many things to consider. He felt a certain
sympathy for this young man, with his straightforwardness and artless
brusquerie. Moreover, though the banker was no great respecter of
persons, the mention of Darwin K. Anthony had impressed him. If Kirk
were all that he seemed, he had no doubt of the ultimate reconciliation
of father and son. At all events, it would do no harm to learn more of
this extraordinary suitor, and meanwhile he must treat him with respect
while carefully guarding his own dignity against possibly impertinent
advances.
"She has been promised to Ramon," he said, at last, "and I have
considered her future quite settled. Of course, such arrangements are
frequently altered for various causes, even at the last moment,
but--quien sabe?" He shrugged his shoulders. "She may not wish to
entertain your suit. So why discuss it? Why make plans or promises? It
is a matter to be handled with the greatest delicacy; there are
important issues linked with it. Where there is the prospect of an
alliance between two houses--of business or politics--you will
understand that according to our ideas, those considerations must
govern--absolutely. Otherwise--I do not know--I can say nothing to
encourage you except--that, for a young man I have known so very short
a time"--he smiled genially--"you have impressed me not unfavorably. I
thank you for coming to me, at any rate."
The two men rose and shook hands; Kirk was not altogether cast down by
the result of the interview. He understood the banker's allusion to the
possible change of arrangements, and felt sure from what Chiquita had
told him that the marriage with Ramon could not take place after the
true nature of Garavel's political aspirations became known. In that
case, if all went well, it did not seem impossible that Garavel would
give his consent, and then Gertrudis alone would remain to be won. If,
on the other hand, her father refused his permission--well, there are
many ways of winning a bride. Kirk believed in his lucky star, and had
a constitutional inability to imagine failure.
The truth was that Andres Garavel had not hesitated long after that
memorable night at the Tivoli before accepting the brilliant prize
which the Cortlandts had dangled so alluringly before his eyes, and,
the decision once made, he had entered into the scheme with all his
soul. He was wise enough, however, to leave his destiny largely in
their hands. This meant frequent councils among the three, a vast
amount of careful work, of crafty intrigue, of untiring diplomacy, and,
although his candidacy had not as yet been more than whispered, the
purple robe of power was daily being woven, thread by thread.
It was not long after Kirk's visit to the bank that Garavel, during one
of these conferences, took occasion to bring up the young man's name.
Cortlandt had been called to the telephone, and Edith was left free to
answer without constraint.
"I have seen you and him riding quite frequently," her guest remarked,
with polite interest. "Is he, then, an old friend?"
"Yes, we are very fond of him."
"Your Mr. Runnels believes him most capable; we were speaking of him
but yesterday."
"Oh, he will be successful, if that's what you mean; I shall see to
that. He has his father's gift for handling men---"
"You know his father?"
"Not personally, only by reputation. Kirk will be promoted soon,
by-the-way, although he doesn't know it. He is to replace Runnels as
soon as he is able."
"Remarkable--and yet I have seen the marvels you work, dear lady. But
is not this a strange sphere of activity for the son of Darwin K.
Anthony?"
"Oh, he had some kind of falling-out with his father, I believe, which
occasioned his coming here. There was nothing really to Kirk's
discredit--of that I am perfectly sure."
"It would be unfortunate, indeed, if this breach between father and son
should prove serious."
"Oh, I dare say it won't. Kirk is certain to succeed, and old Anthony
will come round, if I know American fathers."
Garavel smiled, well pleased that he had treated his recent visitor
with proper consideration. After all, why not invite the young fellow
to his house? That would be rather a significant step according to
Spanish custom; yet he need not be bound by it. He could put a stop to
the affair at any time. Besides, despite his frequent protestations to
the contrary, he was somewhat influenced by his daughter's desire for
more liberty. It was not fair to her, he thought in his heart, that she
should know only Ramon. One reason especially appealed to his pride. If
a break came between him and Alfarez, Ramon must not appear to have
jilted Gertrudis. If, meanwhile, she had another suitor, and one of
distinguished family, the affair would wear a better look. It cannot be
denied that the name of Darwin K. Anthony rang musically in his ears.
"The boy has the right stuff in him," Edith went on. "He began at the
bottom, only a few months ago, preferring to work his way up, though he
was offered a first-rate position to begin with."
She would have said more, but just at that moment her husband entered.
"You were saying that Alfarez suspects," said Cortlandt, addressing
Garavel. "Has he said anything?"
"Not to me, as yet, but he surely must know; the rumors must have
reached him. He is cold--and Ramon acts queerly. I feel guilty--almost
as if I had betrayed a friend."
"Nonsense! There is no room for fine scruples in politics. We mustn't
be in too great a hurry, though. Things are going smoothly, and when
the time comes you will be called for. But it must be the voice of the
people calling. Bocas, Chiriqui, Colon--they must all demand Garavel."
Cortlandt sighed. "I shall be very glad when it is over." He looked
more pale, more bloodless, more world-weary than ever.
"You need have no fear that it will cause serious trouble between you
and the General," Mrs. Cortlandt assured Garavel. "Ramon should be able
to effect peace, no matter what happens."
"Ah, I am not so sure that there will be a marriage between Gertrudis
and him. Young ladies are most uncertain when allowed the slightest
liberty."
"Is she growing rebellious?" Cortlandt inquired. "If I were you, then,
I wouldn't force her. A loveless marriage is a tragic thing."
His wife nodded her agreement.
"Not exactly rebellious. She would do whatever I asked regardless of
her own feelings, for that is the way we Spaniards bring up our
daughters, but--she is cold to Ramon, and he, I believe, is suspicious
of my intentions toward his father. Therefore, the situation is
strained. It is very hard to know what is right in a case of this sort.
The young are impressionable and reckless. Often what seems to them
distasteful is in reality a blessing. It is not every love-match that
turns out so happily as yours, my dear friends. Well, I suppose I am
weak. With Gertrudis I cannot be severe; but unless it becomes
necessary to make conditions with my old friend Alfarez, I should
prefer to let the girl have her own way."
As Cortlandt escorted his caller to the door, the Panamanian paused and
said, with genuine solicitude:
"You look badly, sir. I am afraid you work too hard. I would not easily
forgive myself if this affair of ours caused you to fall ill."
"Oh, I am all right--a little tired, that's all. I don't sleep well."
"It is worry over this thing."
Cortlandt smiled crookedly. "I am not the one to worry; I am not the
one at the head. Surely you know what people say--that I am her
office-boy?"
Garavel found it hard to laugh this off gracefully. "You are too
modest," he said. "I admire the trait, but I also chance to know the
wonderful things you have accomplished. If people say such things, it
is because they do not know and are too small to understand your
voluntary position. It is very fine of you to let your wife share your
work, senor." But he shook his head as the door closed behind him,
really doubting that Cortlandt would prove physically equal to the
coming struggle.
It was about this time--perhaps two weeks after Kirk had replied to his
father's letter--that Runnels called him in one day to ask:
"Do you know a man named Clifford?"
"No."
"He dropped in this morning, claiming to be a newspaper man from the
States; wanted to know all about everything on the Canal and--the usual
thing. He didn't talk like a writer, though. I thought you might know
him; he asked about you."
"Me?" Kirk pricked up his ears.
"I gathered the impression he was trying to pump me." Runnels eyed his
subordinate shrewdly. "I boosted you."
"Is he short and thick-set?"
"No. Tall and thin." As Kirk merely looked at him in a puzzled way, he
continued: "I suppose we're all suspicious down here, there's so much
of that sort of thing. If he has anything on you--"
"He's got nothing on me."
"I'm glad of that. You're the best man I have, and that shake-up I told
you about is coming off sooner than I expected. I'd hate to have
anything happen to you. Do you think you could hold down my job?"
"WHAT? Do you really mean it?"
"I do."
"I think I could, if you would help me."
Runnels laughed. "That remark shows you haven't developed Isthmitis,
anyhow."
"What is that?"
"Well, it's a sort of mental disorder most of us have. We believe
everybody above us is incompetent, and everybody below us is after our
jobs. You'll get it in time--even some of the Commissioners have it."
"It goes without saying that I'd like to be Master of Transportation,
but not until you're through."
"Well, the old man has had another row with Colonel Jolson, and may not
wait for his vacation to quit. I'm promised the vacancy."
"Then you have seen the Colonel?"
"No--but I have seen Mrs. Cortlandt. I felt I had a right to ask
something from her in return for what I did for you. I know that sounds
rotten, but you'll understand how it is. Colonel Jolson wants his
brother-in-law, Blakeley, to have the place, but I'm entitled to it,
and she has promised to fix it for me. If I go up, you go, too; that's
why I was worried when this Clifford party appeared."
"There IS something, I suppose, I ought to tell you, although it
doesn't amount to much. I was mixed up in a scrape the night I left New
York. A plain-clothes man happened to get his head under a falling
bottle and nearly died from the effects."
"What was the trouble?"
"It really wasn't the least bit of trouble, it was fatally easy. We
were out on a grape carnival, six of us. It was an anti-prohibition
festival, and he horned in."
"There is nothing else?"
"Nothing."
"Well, this Clifford party is stopping at the Hotel Central. Better
look him over."
"I will," said Kirk, feeling more concern than he cared to show, but
his apprehension turned out to be quite unfounded. On inspection,
Clifford proved to bear no resemblance whatever to Williams, nor did he
seem to have any concealed design. He was a good sort, apparently, with
a knack of making himself agreeable, and in the weeks that followed he
and Kirk became quite friendly. Meanwhile, no word had come from Senor
Garavel, and Kirk was beginning to fret. But just as he had reached the
limit of his patience he received a note which transported him with joy.
Senor Andres Garavel, he read, would be in the city on the following
Tuesday evening, and would be pleased to have him call.
Even with his recent experiences of Spanish etiquette, Kirk hardly
realized the extent of the concession that had been made to him. He
knew nothing of the tears, the pleadings, and the spirited championship
of his cause that had overborne the last parental objection. It was
lucky for him that Chiquita was a spoiled child, and Garavel a very
Americanized Spaniard. However, as it was, he went nearly mad with
delight, and when Tuesday came round he performed his office-work so
badly that Runnels took him to task.
"What the devil has got into you the last few days?" he exclaimed,
irritably.