A great event requires retrospective consideration. Unlike the laws of
perspective, distance gives it greater size. So it was with Gorham's
supreme and final demonstration of his strength. To Covington, who, true
to his promise of the night before, was present at this crucial meeting
of the Board of Directors, and marvelled that his chief demanded of him
only a statement regarding the real purchaser of the stock, this
dissolution of the Consolidated Companies appeared as an act of
sacrilege; to his associates, aghast at the knowledge that they were
powerless to prevent him, it seemed the epitome of treachery; to his
family it meant a sublime exhibit of self-sacrifice;--to himself it was
the crowning point of his career, and a justification of his life-work.
"You know what this means?" Litchfield had demanded of him. "You realize
that your action to-morrow will deprive us of millions, and will plunge
the country into a panic which will cost that dear public which you
profess to love, more than we should have kept from them in a decade?"
"Yes," replied Gorham, resolutely; "I realize it all. It is a simple
case of surgery--it may be necessary to sacrifice the limb to save the
life. You, gentlemen, have had it in your power to place the standard of
the business world so high that no longer would other nations gaze at
our marvellous machine, appalled by its pace--politically, socially,
financially--wondering whether they or we read correctly the
danger-signals ahead. You have had it in your power, and you refused to
embrace the opportunity; and if men of your intelligence and high
standing in the world are not ready for it, then the world itself is not
ready. The people have trusted themselves to me, and have placed in my
hands power beyond that which has ever yet been given; now that I have
learned how that power may be misused against them, I will prevent their
betrayal."
From his office, Gorham returned to his home before leaving for
Washington. It was from Riley's hand, as he entered, that he received
the telegram from his Denver attorneys, announcing that the lawyer,
Jennings, was already on his way East, bringing with him absolute
evidence that the divorce papers had been properly served on Buckner.
Strengthened for the ordeal before him by the removal of this burden, he
sought Eleanor; but she met him in the hallway before he reached her
room.
"Robert," she said, impulsively, after looking for a moment searchingly
into his face--"something has happened, and the light in your eyes tells
me that all is well. You have decided not to take that awful step."
"All is well, dear heart," he repeated, handing her the telegram; "but
it would not be so except that the 'awful step' has already been taken."
"Then there is no doubt regarding the divorce?" she cried, joyfully,
after reading the telegram.
"There never has been," he replied, as he pressed her to him.
"May I tell the children?" she asked, happily, a moment later, and Alice
and Allen responded quickly.
The Consolidated Companies was forgotten in the joy of the new
knowledge, and it was Allen who first made reference to it.
"Are you really going to put things through as you said, Mr. Gorham?"
"The die is cast, my boy; I leave for Washington to-night."
"Then monopolies are doomed?"
"Monopolies can never be prevented," Gorham answered, seriously, "but I
hope that my action to-morrow will go far toward forcing their control.
You and I have seen the impossibility of trying to make them change
their spots. I thought I had solved the problem, but I was wrong. Far
ahead in the future, beyond the point which our present vision reaches,
perhaps the solution lies. Until it is found, the Government must
protect itself and the people it represents."
"Please fix it so as to make one exception," the boy pleaded. As Gorham
looked at him for explanation, he drew Alice closely to him. "Please let
this monopoly be exempt from governmental interference."
A stifled sob, entirely out of place in the presence of such general
rejoicing, came from a little human ball rolled up on the steps below
them. Eleanor and Allen quickly sprang toward her, but the boy better
understood Patricia's tears. He sat beside her, and wrapped his great
arms around her.
"Don't cry, Lady Pat," he entreated.
"I can't help it," she moaned. "I haven't any Sir Launcelot, and you
haven't stormed the castle, and I've lost my silken ladder, and I want
to die so that I can go up to heaven and be mean to the angels."
"Oh, no, no!" he begged. "I've tried to think it all out, and the only
thing I can do is to cut myself in two pieces the way King Solomon
decided to do with the baby. Do you remember?"
"But he didn't do it," replied Patricia, showing surprising knowledge of
the Scriptures.
"Well, I haven't done it yet--but I will if you say so."
"Will you really?" The child's mind was already diverted from its
tragedy. "But then you couldn't wear armor or ride a horse, or storm a
castle, or do any of those things."
"Not without messing everything all up," Allen admitted, sorrowfully;
"but that's the best thing I can think of."
Patricia was seized with an inspiration. "Will you swear to be my Knight
every time Alice is mean and horrid to you?"
"I swear," Allen responded in a sepulchral voice, his eyes laughing at
the older girl above him.
"Then I'll get you most of the time," Patricia announced, joyfully; and
she suffered herself to join the group in the hallway.
"So you have decided to abandon your business career?" Gorham asked,
turning to Alice.
"No, daddy," she replied, slyly. "I'm just changing my company from a
private corporation into a partnership."
Gorham drew her to him and kissed her tenderly. Then he held out his
disengaged hand to Allen.
"The world is before you. From the time it was created, man has striven
to force from it the secret of unlimited power. Events have sometimes
seemed to give encouragement, but ever at the end of each seeming
success has come the unmistakable warning of a wisely jealous God.
Omnipotence is not for mortals. The only lever which really moves the
world is love, and it rests on a fulcrum of honor."