Suddenly she turned her head toward Hopkins, her eyes full of tenderness
and pity and love, reached out her hand and said:
"Oh, Steadman, my voice has come back, God has taken off the curse."
But poor Hopkins was on his knees beside the bed, his face buried in his
arms, his strong shoulders heaving and pitiful sobs breaking from his
very heart.
A couple of months afterward I resigned to go back to God's country, the
home of the east wind, and where I could know my own children and speak
to my own wife without an introduction, and the Hopkins invited me to a
farewell dinner.
"My Lady of the Eyes" presided, looking handsomer and stronger than
usual, but she didn't eat with us. But with eyes and voice she
entertained us so royally and pleasantly that Hopkins and I did eating
enough for all.
After supper, Hop. and I lighted our cigars and "railroaded" for awhile,
then "Her Eyes" went to the piano and sang a dozen songs as only a
trained singer can. Her voice was wonderfully sweet and low. They were
old songs, but they seemed the better for that, and while she sang
Hopkins's cigar went out and he just gazed at her with pride and joy in
every lineament of his scarred and furrowed face.
Little Maddie was allowed to sit up in honor of "Untle Tummy," but after
awhile the little head bobbed quietly and the little chin fell between
the verses of her mother's song, and "My Lady of the Eyes" took her by
the hand and brought her over to us.
"Tell papa good-night and Uncle Chum my good-bye, dear, and we'll go to
bed."
Hopkins kissed the baby, and I got my hug, and another to take to my
"ittle dirl," and Mrs. Hopkins held out both her hands to me.
"Good-bye, dear Chum," said she, "my love to you and yours, now and
always."
Hopkins put his arm around his wife, kissed her forehead and said:
"Sweetheart, I'm going to tell Chum a story."
"And don't forget the hero," said she, and turning to me, "Don't believe
all he says, and don't blame those that he blames, and remember that
what is, is best, and seeming calamities are often blessings in
disguise."
Hopkins and I looked into each other's faces and smoked in silence for
ten minutes, then he turned to his secretary and, opening a drawer, took
out a couple of cases and opened them. They contained medals. Then he
opened a package of letters and selected one or two. We lighted fresh
cigars and Hopkins began his story.
"My father was a pretty well-to-do business man and I his only child.
My mother died when I was young. I managed to get through a grammar
school and went to college. I wanted to go on the road from the time I
could remember and had no ambition higher than to run a locomotive. That
was my ideal of life.
"My father opposed this very strenuously, and offered to let me go to
work if I'd select something decent--that's the way he put it. He used
to say, 'Try a brick-yard, you might own one some day, you'll never own
a railroad.' I had my choice, college or 'something decent,' and I took
the college, although I didn't like it.
"The summer before I came of age my father died suddenly and my college
life ended."
Here Hopkins fumbled around in his papers and selected one.
"Just to show you how odd my father was, here is the text of his will,
leaving out the legal slush that lawyers always pack their papers in:
"'To my son, Steadman Hudson Hopkins, I leave one thousand dollars to
be paid immediately on my demise. All the residue of my estate
consisting of etc., etc'--six figures, Chum, a snug little wad--'shall
be placed in the hands of three trustees'--naming the presidents of
three banks--'to be invested by them in state, municipal or government
bonds, principal and interest accruing to be paid by said trustees to my
son hereinbefore mentioned when he has pursued one calling, with average
success, for ten consecutive years, and not until then. All in the best
judgment of the trustees aforenamed.
"'To my son I also bequeath this fatherly advice, knowing the waste of
money by heirs who have done nothing to produce it, and knowing that had
I been given a fortune at the beginning of my career, it would have been
lost for lack of business experience, and knowing too, the waste of time
usually made by young men who drift from one employment or occupation to
another--having wasted fifteen years of my own life in this way--I make
these provisions in this my last will and testament, believing that in
the end, if not now, my son will see the wisdom of this provision, etc.,
etc.'
"The governor had a long, clear head and he knew me and young men in
general, but bless you, I thought he was a little mean at the time.
"I turned to the trustees and asked what they would consider as
fulfilling the requirements of the will.
"'Any honorable employment,' answered the oldest man of the trio.
"The next day, I went to see Andy Bridges, general superintendent of the
old home road, who had been a friend of father's, and told him I wanted
to go railroading. He offered to put me in his office, but I insisted on
the foot-board, and to make a long story short, was firing inside of
three weeks and running inside of three years.
"I was the proudest young prig that ever pulled a throttle. I always
loved the work and--well, you know how the first five years of it
absorbs you if you are cut out for it and like it and intend to stay at
it.
"I had been running about two years, and had paid about as much
attention to young women as I had to the subject of astronomy, until
Madelene Bridges came out of a Southern convent to make her home with
her uncle, our 'old man.'
"The first time I saw her I went clean, stark, raving, blind, drunken
daft over her. I tried to argue and reason myself out of it, but it was
no go. I didn't even know who she was then.
"But I was in love and, being so, wasn't hardly safe on the road.
"Then I spruced up and started in to see if I couldn't interest her in
me half as much as I was interested in her.
"I didn't have much trouble to get a start, for Andy Bridges had come up
from the ranks and hadn't forgotten it--most of 'em do--and welcomed any
decent young man in his house, even if he was a car hand. Madelene had a
couple of marriageable cousins then and that may account for old Andy.
"I got on pretty well at first, for I was first in the field. I got in
a theatre or two before the other young fellows caught on. About this
time there was a dance, and I lost my grip. I took Madelene but couldn't
dance, and all the others could, especially Dandy Tamplin, one of the
train despatchers.
"I took private dancing lessons, however, and squared myself that way.
"Singing was a favorite mode of passing the evenings with the young
folks at the Bridges's home, and I cursed myself for being tuneless.
"It finally settled down to a race between Tamplin and myself, and each
of us was doing his level best. I was so dead in earnest and so truly in
love that I was no fit company for man or beast, and I'm afraid I was
twice as awkward and dull in Madelene's presence as in any other place.
"Dandy Tamplin was a handsome young fellow, and a formidable rival, for
he was always well-dressed, a good talker and more or less of a lady's
man. Besides that, he was on the ground all the time and I had to be
away two-thirds of the time on my runs.
"I came in one trip determined to know my fate that very evening--had my
little piece all committed to memory.
"As I registered I heard one of the other despatchers, behind a
partition, telling some one that he was going to work Dandy's trick
until eleven o'clock, and then the two entered into a discussion of
Dandy's quest of the 'old man's' niece, one of them remarking that all
the opposition he had was Hopkins and that wasn't worth considering. I
resolved to get to Bridges's ahead of Tamplin.
"But man--railroad man, anyway--proposes and the superintendent
disposes. I met Bridges at the door.
"'Hopkins,' said he, 'I want you to do me a personal favor.'
"'Yes, sir.'
"'I want you to double out in half an hour on some perishable freight
that's coming in from the West; there isn't one available engine in.
Will you do it?'
"'Yes,' I answered, slowly, showing my disappointment. 'But, Mr.
Bridges, I was particularly anxious to go up to your house to-night; I
intend to ask--'
"'I know, I know,' said he kindly, taking my hand; 'It'll be all right I
hope; there ain't another young chap I'd like to see go up _and stay_
better than you, but my son, _she will keep_, and this freight wont. You
go out, and I'll promise that no one shall get a chance to ask ahead of
you.' This was a friend at court and a strong one.
"'It means a lot to me,' said I.
"'I know it my boy, and I'm proud to have you say so right out in
meeting, but--well, you get those fruit cars in by moonlight, and I'll
have you back light, and you can have the front parlor for a week.'
"On my return trip, I found a big Howe truss bridge on fire and didn't
get in for two days. The road was blocked, everything out of gear and I
had to double back again, whether or no.
"I was 'chewing the rag' with a roundhouse foreman about it when Old
Andy came along.
"'Go on, Hopkins,' said he, 'and you can lay off when you get back. I'm
going South with my car _and will take the girls with me_!'
"That was hint enough, and I said yes.
"It was in the evening, and while the fireman and I got our supper, the
hostler turned my engine, coaled her up, took water and stood her on the
north branch track, next the head end of her train, that had not yet
been entirely made up.
"This north branch came into the south and west divisions off a very
heavy grade and on a curve, the view being cut off at this point by
buildings close to the track. The engine herself stood close to the
office building, and after oiling around, I backed on to the train,
bringing my cab right opposite a window in the despatcher's office. Just
before this open window and facing me sat Dandy Tamplin at his key. I
hated Dandy Tamplin.
"It was dark outside and in the cab, the conductor had given me my
orders and said we'd go just as quick as the pony found a couple of
cars more and put them on the hind end. Dennis had put in a big fire for
the hill, and then gone skylarking around the station, and I was in the
dark glaring at Dandy Tamplin in the light.
"The blow-off cock on this engine was on the right side and opened from
the cab. Ordinarily, you pulled the handle up, but the last time the
boiler was washed out they had turned the plug cock half over and the
handle stuck up through the deck among the oil cans ahead of the reverse
lever, and opened by pushing it down. I remember thinking it was
dangerous, as a man might accidentally open it. On the cock was a piece
of pipe to carry the hot water away from the paint work, and this stuck
straight out under the footboard, the cock leaked a little and the end
of the pipe dripped hot water and steam.
"While I glared at Tamplin, old man Bridges and the girls came into the
room. Bridges went up to the narrow, shelf-like counter, looked at the
register and asked Tamplin a question.
"Tamplin went up to the group, his back to me, and spoke to one after
the other. Madelene was the last in the row and, while the others were
talking, laid her gloves, veil and some flowers on the counter. Tamplin
spoke to her and I could see the color change in her face. Oh! if I only
had hold of Dandy Tamplin.
"Bridges hurried out into the hall behind the passage way, the girls
following. Tamplin turned around and espied Madelene's belongings. He
went up to them, smelled the flowers, then hurriedly took a note out of
his pocket and slipped it into one of the gloves. The other glove he put
in his breast pocket. It was well for Dandy Tamplin I didn't have a gun.
"Remember, all this happened quickly. Before Tamplin was fairly in his
seat and at work, Madelene came tripping back alone and made for her
bundle, but Tamplin left his key open and went over to her. I couldn't
hear what was said for by this time the safety valves of my engine were
blowing and drowned all sound. She evidently asked him what time it was
and leaned partly over the counter to hear his reply. He put his hand
under her chin and turned her face toward the clock, this with such an
air of assurance that my heart sank--but murder was in my soul. Then
quickly putting his hand behind her neck, he pulled her toward him and
kissed her. I was a demon in an instant.
"She sprang away from him and ran into the hall and he came back to his
chair with a smile of triumph on his thin lips.
"Somehow or other, just at this moment, I noticed the steam at the end
of that blow-off pipe, and all the devils in hell whispered at once 'One
move of your hand and your revenge is complete.' I wasn't Steadman
Hopkins then, I was a madman bent on murder, and I reached down for that
handle, holding on by the throttle with my left hand. The cock had some
mud in it and I opened it wide before it blew out and then with a roar
and a shriek it burst--and the crime was done.
"All the devils flew away at once and left me alone, naked with my
conscience. 'Murderer, murderer!' resounded in my ears; hisses, roars
and screams seemed to come to fill my brain and dance around my
condemned soul; voices seemed shrieking and crash upon crash seemed to
smite my ears. I thought I was dying, and I remember distinctly how glad
I was. I didn't let go of that valve, I couldn't--I'd go to hell with it
in my hand and let them do their worst.
"Then remorse took possession of me. Wasn't it enough to maim and
disfigure poor Tamplin, why cook him to death--I'd shut off that cock. I
fought with it, but it wouldn't close, and I called Dennis to help me.
"Some one stood behind me and put a cool hand on my brow, and a woman's
voice said, 'Poor brave fellow, he's still thinking of his duty; all the
heroes don't live in books.'
"I opened my eyes, and looked around. I was in St. Mary's Hospital, and
a nun was talking to herself.
"Well, John, I'd been there for more than six weeks, and it took six
more before I understood just what had happened and could hobble
around, for I had legs and ribs and an arm broken.
"It must have been at the moment I opened that blow-off cock that part
of a runaway train came down the north grade, backward, like a whirlwind
and buried my engine and myself, piling up an awful wreck that took
fire. I was rescued at the last moment by the crowd of railroad men that
collected and bodily tore the wreck apart to get at me. Every one
thought I tried to close that blow-off cock and hold the throttle shut.
I was a hero in the papers and to the men, and I couldn't get a chance
to tell the truth if I dared, and I was afraid to ask about Dandy
Tamplin.
"No word came from Madelene. One day Bridges came to see me, and brought
me this watch I wear now, a present from the company. I determined to
tell Bridges--but he wouldn't believe me. Looked, too, as if he thought
I was off in my head yet and I must have looked crazy, for most of these
brands I got that night. To be sure I've added to the collection here
and there, but I never was pretty after that roundup.
"At last I mustered up courage and asked: 'How is Tamplin?' 'All right,
working right along, but takes it hard,' said Bridges.
"'Was he laid up long? Is he as badly disfigured as I am?'
"'Why, man, he wasn't touched. He had gone to the other end of the room
for a drink of water. I'm afraid, my boy, its Madelene he's worried
about.'
"'She has refused him then?'
"'Well, I don't know that. She is still in bed, badly hurt. She has not
seen a soul but her nurse, the doctor and my wife, and denies herself to
all callers, even her best friends, even to me.'
"Chum, I won't tell you what I said or suffered. Madelene had come into
the room again for her belongings, and had faced the dagger of steam
sent by the hand of a man who would give his immortal soul to make her
well again.
"I couldn't get around much, but I wrote her a brief note asking if I
might call and sent it by a messenger.
"She replied that she could not see me then. I waited. I hadn't the
heart to write a confession I wanted to make in person, so after a week
or two I went to the house.
"Madelene sent down word that she couldn't see me then and could not
tell when she would see me.
"I thought the nurse, who acted as messenger, did not interpret either
my message or hers as they were intended--I would write a note.
"I stepped into the library on one side of the hall, made myself at home
and wrote Madelene a note, a love letter, begging for just one
interview. Taking blame for all that had happened and confessing my love
and devotion to her.
"It was a long letter and just as I finished it, I heard some one in the
hall. I thought it was a servant and started for the doorway to ask her
to carry my message. It was the nurse.
"I was partly concealed by the portieres. She was facing the door, her
finger on her lips, and before her stood Dandy Tamplin.
"'It's all right' she whispered, 'be still,' and both of them tip-toed
up-stairs.
"This, then was why I could not see Madelene. Dandy Tamplin was her
accepted lover.
"That night I left the old home for good to seek my fortunes and
forgetfulness far away. I didn't care where, so long as it was a great
way off.
"At New York I found some engineers going out to run on the Meig's road
in Peru. I signed a contract and in two days was on the Atlantic, bound
for the Isthmus of Panama.
"I ran an engine in Peru until the war broke out with Chili. I was sent
to the front with a train of soldiers one day and got on the battle
field. Our side was getting badly worsted, and I got excited and jumping
off the engine, armed myself and lit into the fight. A little crowd
gathered around me and I found myself the leader, no officer in sight.
There was a charge and we didn't run--surprised the Chilians. I got
some of these blue brands on my left cheek there and made a new
reputation. Before I knew it, I had on a uniform and dangled a sword.
They nicknamed me the 'Fighting Yankee.'
"Peru had lots of trouble and I saw a good deal of it. When it was all
over, I found myself in command of a gun boat, just a tug, but she was
alive and had accounted for herself several times.
"The president sent me on a special mission to Chili just after the
close of the war, and, all togged out in a new uniform, I went on board
of an American ship at Callao bound for Valparaiso. I thought I was some
pumpkins then. I'd lived a rough and tumble life for about three years
and was beginning to like it--and to forget.
"I used to do the statuesque before the passengers, my scars attested my
fighting propensities, and there were several Peruvian liars aboard that
knew me by reputation, and enlarged on it.
"We touched at Coquimbo and an American civil engineer and family came
aboard, homeward bound.
"That afternoon I was lolling in the smoking-room on deck, when I was
attracted by the sound of ladies talking on the promenade just outside
the open port where I sat. It was the engineer's wife and daughter.
"'Mamma,' said the young lady. 'I must read you Madelene's letter. Poor,
dear Madelene, it's just too sorrowful and romantic for anything.'
"Madelene! I hadn't heard that name pronounced for three years. It was
wrong, I knew it, but I listened.
"'Poor dear, she was awfully hurt and disfigured in a railroad wreck.'
"It was _my_ Madelene they were talking about. Wild horses could not
have dragged me from the spot.
"The girl read something like this. I know for I've read that letter a
hundred times. It's in this pile here.
"'Dear Lottie: Your ever welcome'--'no, not that.'
"'Uncle Andrew is going'--'let me see, Oh! yes, here it is, now listen
Mamma,' said the girl.
"'Dear Schoolmate. I have never told a soul about my troubles or my
trials, for long I could not bear to think of them myself. But lately I
have seen it in its true light, and have come to the conclusion that I
have no right to moan my life away. I'm past all that, there is nothing
for me to live for in myself, but my life is spared for some purpose,
and I propose to devote it to doing good to others'--'isn't she a sweet
soul, mamma?'
"'After I came to live with Uncle Andrew, I was very happy, it seemed
like a release from prison. I saw much company, and in six months had
two lovers--more than I deserved. One of these was a plain, honest manly
man; he was one of Uncle Andrew's engineers. He wasn't handsome, but he
was the kind of man that sensible women love. The other was a handsome,
showy, witty man, also an employee of the railroad, considered 'the
catch' among the girls. Really, Lottie, both of them tried to propose
and I wouldn't let them, I didn't know which one of them I liked best.
But if things had taken the usual course, I should have married the
handsome one--and been sorry forever after.'
"My heart stood still--she hadn't married Dandy Tamplin after all."
"'The night of the wreck, I was going out on Uncle Andrew's private car.
The handsome man was on duty in the office. The plain man on an engine
that stood before the open window, I didn't know that then.
"'A runaway train crashed into the engine and something exploded and a
stream of boiling water came into the room and scalded me beyond
recognition. You would not know me, Lottie, I am so disfigured.
"'The handsome man did nothing but wring his hands; the plain one staid
on the engine and tried to stop the steam from coming out, and was
himself terribly injured.
"'I was for weeks in bed and suffered mental agony much beyond the
merely physical pain. I was so wicked I cursed my life and my Maker and
prayed for death--yet I lived. I was so resentful, so heartbroken, so
wicked, that I refused to speak for weeks, then, when I tried, I
couldn't, God had put the curse of silence on my wickedness.'
"Think of Madelene being wicked, Chum.
"'When I was getting well enough and reconciled to my own fate, enough
to think of others, I thought of my two lovers. Then I asked my nurse
for a glass. One look, and I made up my mind never to see either of them
again.
"'Both of them were clamoring to see me, and I refused to see either.
The plain man wrote me the only love letter I ever received. I have worn
it out reading it. It was so manly, so unselfish! He blamed himself for
the accident, and offered me his devotion and love, no matter in what
condition the letter found me. This letter he wrote in Uncle Andrew's
library, left it open on the desk and--disappeared.
"'I have never heard from him from that day to this. I never could
understand it. A man that could write that letter, couldn't run away.
The last sentence in his letter proved that. It said: "Remember, dear
Madelene, that somewhere, somehow, I am thinking of you always; that
whether you see me or not, you will some day come to know that I love
your soul, not your face; that your life is dear to me, and no calamity
can make any difference."
"'Those were brave words, and after I read them, I knew for the first
time that this was the man I loved. They told me he was frightfully
disfigured, too, but that made no difference to me, I loved him. But he
was gone, no one knew where. Why did he go?
"'The handsome man disappeared the same day, and he never came back, but
he left no letter.
"'Dear Lottie, I have only now solved the mystery. My sometime nurse has
just confessed that the night the letter was written the other man came
to the house, like a thief, he had bribed her to give me drugs to make
me sleep and then she led him into my room and showed him my scars. If
he ever loved me at all, he was in love with my face; the other man
loved me. One went away because he saw me, the other one because he saw
his rival apparently granted the interview refused to him. My true lover
must have seen that man sneaking up to my room.'
"John, every fibre of my being danced for joy. I didn't hear the rest,
and she read several pages. I had heard enough.
"I went right out on the deck, begged pardon to begin with, introduced
myself, confessed to eavesdropping, told who I was, where I had been and
asked for that letter.
"I got it and Madelene's picture; the one you have seen on my clock.
"I finished my task at Valparaiso while the vessel lay there, reported
by mail, and came home on the same ship.
"I took that letter and photograph to Andy Bridges's house and wrote
across the envelope 'Madelene Bridges, I demand your immediate and
unconditional surrender, signed, Steadman H. Hopkins.'
"And I got it in five minutes. Chum, that is the only case on record
where something worth having was ever surrendered to an officer of the
Peruvian government.
"In six months I was back on an engine in a new country, with my silent,
loved and loving wife, in a new home. Three times before now someone has
seen Madelene's face, twice I told this story, and then we moved away;
once I told it and trusted, and it was not repeated. Madelene can stand
being a mystery and wondered at, but she cannot stand pity and
curiosity. As for you, old Chum, I haven't even asked you not to repeat
what I have told you--I know you won't."
After a long while, I turned to Hopkins and said: "And yet, Hopkins,
fools say there is no romance in railroad life. This is a story worth
reading, and some day I'd like to write it."
"Not in Madelene's time, or in mine, Chum, but if ever a time comes,
I'll send you a token."
"Send me your picture, Hop."
"No, I'll send you Madelene's. No, I'll send you the clock with the
'talking eyes.'"
And standing at Hopkins's gate, the scar-faced man with the romance and
I parted, like ships that meet, hail and pass on, never to meet again.
Hopkins and I moved away from one another, each on his own course,
across the seven seas of life.
And all this happened almost twenty years ago.
The other day, my office boy brought me a card that read, "Mrs. Henry
Adams, Washington, D. C." "Is she a book agent?" I asked.
"Nope, don't look like one."
"Show her in."
A young woman came in, looked at me hard for a moment, laid a package on
my desk and asked,
"Is this the Mr. Alexander who used to be an engineer?"