II

The appointed time was at the November dusk, hurried forward nearly an

hour by the falling panoply of smoke driven westward over the Park by the

wet east wind. And the rector was conducted, with due ceremony, to the

office upstairs which he had never again expected to enter, where that

other memorable interview had taken place. The curtains were drawn. And

if the green-shaded lamp--the only light in the room--had been arranged

by a master of dramatic effect, it could not have better served the

setting.

In spite of Alison's letter, Holder was unprepared for the ravages a few

days had made in the face of Eldon Parr. Not that he appeared older: the

impression was less natural, more sinister. The skin had drawn sharply

over the cheek-bones, and strangely the eyes both contradicted and

harmonized with the transformation of the features. These, too, had

changed. They were not dead and lustreless, but gleamed out of the

shadowy caverns into which they had sunk, unyielding, indomitable in

torment,--eyes of a spirit rebellious in the fumes . . . .

This spirit somehow produced the sensation of its being separated from

the body, for the movement of the hand, inviting Holder to seat himself,

seemed almost automatic.

"I understand," said Eldon Parr, "that you wish to marry my daughter."

"It is true that I am to marry Alison," Holder answered, "and that I

intended, later on, to come to inform you of the fact."

He did not mention the death of Preston. Condolences, under the

circumstances, were utterly out of the question.

"How do you propose to support her?" the banker demanded.

"She is of age, and independent of you. You will pardon me if I reply

that this is a matter between ourselves," Holder said.

"I had made up my mind that the day she married you I would not only

disinherit her, but refuse absolutely, to have anything to do with her."

"If you cannot perceive what she perceives, that you have already by your

own life cut her off from you absolutely and that seeing her will not

mend matters while you remain relentless, nothing I can say will convince

you." Holder did not speak rebukingly. The utter uselessness of it was

never more apparent. The man was condemned beyond all present reprieve,

at least.

"She left me," exclaimed Eldon Parr, bitterly.

"She left you, to save herself."

"We need not discuss that."

"I am far from wishing to discuss it," Holder replied.

"I do not know why you have asked me to come here, Mr. Parr. It is clear

that your attitude has not changed since our last conversation. I tried

to make it plain to you why the church could not accept your money. Your

own daughter, cannot accept it."

"There was a time," retorted the banker, "when you did not refuse to

accept it."

"Yes," Holder replied, "that is true." It came to him vividly then that

it had been Alison herself who had cast the enlightening gleam which

revealed his inconsistency. But he did not defend himself.

"I can see nothing in all this, Mr. Hodder, but a species of insanity,"

said Eldon Parr, and there crept into his tone both querulousness and

intense exasperation. "In the first place, you insist upon marrying my

daughter when neither she nor you have any dependable means of support.

She never spared her criticisms of me, and you presume to condemn me,

a man who, if he has neglected his children, has done so because he has

spent too much of his time in serving his community and his country, and

who has--if I have to say it myself--built up the prosperity which you

and others are doing your best to tear down, and which can only result in

the spread of misery. You profess to have a sympathy with the masses,

but you do not know them as I do. They cannot control themselves, they

require a strong hand. But I am not asking for your sympathy. I have

been misunderstood all my life, I have become used to ingratitude, even

from my children, and from the rector of the church for which I have done

more than any other man."

Hodder stared at him in amazement.

"You really believe that!" he exclaimed.

"Believe it!" Eldon Parr repeated. "I have had my troubles, as heavy

bereavements as a man can have. All of them, even this of my son's

death, all the ingratitude and lack of sympathy I have experienced--"

(he looked deliberately at Hodder) "have not prevented me, do not prevent

me to-day from regarding my fortune as a trust. You have deprived St.

John's, at least so long as you remain there, of some of its benefits,

and the responsibility for that is on your own head. And I am now making

arrangements to give to Calvary the settlement house which St. John's

should have had."

The words were spoken with such an air of conviction, of unconscious

plausibility, as it were, that it was impossible for Hodder to doubt the

genuineness of the attitude they expressed. And yet it was more than his

mind could grasp . . . . Horace Bentley, Richard Garvin, and the

miserable woman of the streets whom he had driven to destroy herself had

made absolutely no impression whatever! The gifts, the benefactions of

Eldon Parr to his fellow-men would go on as before!

"You ask me why I sent for you," the banker went on. "It was primarily

because I hoped to impress upon you the folly of marrying my daughter.

And in spite of all the injury and injustice you have done me, I do not

forget that you were once in a relationship to me which has been unique

in my life. I trusted you, I admired you, for your ability, for your

faculty of getting on with men. At that time you were wise enough not

to attempt to pass comment upon accidents in business affairs which are,

if deplorable, inevitable."

Eldon Parr's voice gave a momentary sign of breaking.

"I will be frank with you. My son's death has led me, perhaps weakly,

to make one more appeal. You have ruined your career by these

chimerical, socialistic notions you have taken up, and which you mistake

for Christianity. As a practical man I can tell you, positively, that

St. John's will run downhill until you are bankrupt. The people who come

to you now are in search of a new sensation, and when that grows stale

they will fall away. Even if a respectable number remain in your

congregation, after this excitement and publicity have died down, I have

reason to know that it is impossible to support a large city church on

contributions. It has been tried again and again, and failed. You have

borrowed money for the Church's present needs. When that is gone I

predict that you will find it difficult to get more."

This had every indication of being a threat, but Hodder, out of sheer

curiosity, did not interrupt. And it was evident that the banker drew a

wrong conclusion from his silence, which he may actually have taken for

reluctant acquiescence. His tone grew more assertive.

"The Church, Mr. Hodder, cannot do without the substantial business men.

I have told the bishop so, but he is failing so rapidly from old age that

I might as well not have wasted my breath. He needs an assistant, a

suffragan or coadjutor, and I intend to make it my affair to see that he

gets one. When I remember him as he was ten years ago, I find it hard to

believe that he is touched with these fancies. To be charitable, it is

senile decay. He seems to forget what I have done for him, personally,

made up his salary, paid his expenses at different times, and no appeal

for the diocese to me was ever in vain. But again, I will let that go.

"What I am getting at is this. You have made a mess of the affairs of

St. John's, you have made a mess of your life. I am willing to give you

the credit for sincerity. Some of my friends might not be. You want to

marry my daughter, and she is apparently determined to marry you. If you

are sensible and resign from St. John's now I will settle on Alison a

sufficient sum to allow you both to live in comfort and decency the rest

of your lives. I will not have it said of me that I permitted my

daughter to become destitute."

After he had finished, the rector sat for so long a time that the banker

nervously shifted in his chair. The clergyman's look had a cumulative

quality, an intensity which seemed to increase as the silence continued.

There was no anger in it, no fanaticism. On the contrary, the higher

sanity of it was disturbing; and its extraordinary implication--gradually

borne in upon Eldon Parr--was that he himself were not in his right mind.

The words, when they came, were a confirmation of this inference.

"It is what I feared, Mr. Parr," he said. "You are as yet incapable of

comprehending."

"What do you mean?" asked the banker, jerking his hand from the table.

The rector shook his head.

"If this great chastisement with which you have been visited has given

you no hint of the true meaning of life, nothing I can say will avail.

If you will not yet listen to the Spirit which is trying to make you

comprehend, how then will you listen to me? How am I to open your eyes

to the paradox of truth, that he who would save his life shall lose it,

that it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle, than for

a rich man to enter into the Kingdom of God? If you will not believe him

who said that, you will not believe me. I can only beg of you, strive to

understand, that your heart many be softened, that your suffering soul

may be released."

It is to be recorded, strangely, that Eldon Parr did not grow angry in

his turn. The burning eyes looked out at Hodder curiously, as at a being

upon whom the vials of wrath were somehow wasted, against whom the

weapons of power were of no account. The fanatic had become a phenomenon

which had momentarily stilled passion to arouse interest. . . "Art

thou a master of Israel, and knowest not these things?"

"Do you mean to say"--such was the question that sprang to Eldon Parr's

lips--"that you take the Bible literally? What is your point of view?

You speak about the salvation of souls, I have heard that kind of talk

all my life. And it is easy, I find, for men who have never known the

responsibilities of wealth to criticize and advise. I regard

indiscriminate giving as nothing less than a crime, and I have always

tried to be painstaking and judicious. If I had taken the words you

quoted at their face value, I should have no wealth to distribute to-day.

"I, too, Mr. Hodder, odd as it may seem to you, have had my dreams--of

doing my share of making this country the best place in the world to live

in. It has pleased providence to take away my son. He was not fitted to

carry on my work,--that is the way--with dreams. I was to have taught

him to build up, and to give, as I have given. You think me embittered,

hard, because I seek to do good, to interpret the Gospel in my own way.

Before this year is out I shall have retired from all active business.

"I intend to spend the rest of my life in giving away the money I have

earned--all of it. I do not intend to spare myself, and giving will be

harder than earning. I shall found institutions for research of disease,

hospitals, playgrounds, libraries, and schools. And I shall make the

university here one of the best in the country. What more, may I ask,

would you have me do?"

"Ah," replied the rector, "it is not what I would have you do. It is

not, indeed, a question of 'doing,' but of seeing."

"Of seeing?" the banker repeated. "As I say, of using judgment."

"Judgment, yes, but the judgment which has not yet dawned for you, the

enlightenment which is the knowledge of God's will. Worldly wisdom is a

rule of thumb many men may acquire, the other wisdom, the wisdom of the

soul, is personal--the reward of revelation which springs from desire.

You ask me what I think you should do. I will tell you--but you will not

do it, you will be powerless to do it unless you see it for yourself,

unless the time shall come when you are willing to give up everything

you have held dear in life,--not your money, but your opinions, the very

judgment and wisdom you value, until you have gained the faith which

proclaims these worthless, until you are ready to receive the Kingdom of

God as a little child. You are not ready, now. Your attitude, your very

words, proclaim your blindness to all that has happened you, your

determination to carry out, so far as it is left to you, your own will.

You may die without seeing."

Crazy as it all sounded, a slight tremor shook Eldon Parr. There was

something in the eyes, in the powerful features of the clergyman that

kept him still, that made him listen with a fascination which had he

taken cognizance of it--was akin to fear. That this man believed it,

that he would impress it upon others, nay, had already done so, the

banker did not then doubt.

"You speak of giving," Hodder continued, "and you have nothing to give

--nothing. You are poorer to-day than the humblest man who has seen God.

But you have much, you have all to restore." Without raising his voice,

the rector had contrived to put a mighty emphasis on the word. "You

speak of the labour of giving, but if you seek your God and haply find

him you will not rest night or day while you live until you have restored

every dollar possible of that which you have wrongfully taken from

others."

John Hodder rose and raised his arm in effective protest against the

interruption Eldon Parr was about to make. He bore him down.

"I know what you are going to say, Mr. Parr,--that it is not practical.

That word 'practical' is the barrier between you and your God. I tell

you that God can make anything practical. Your conscience, the spirit,

tortures you to-day, but you have not had enough torture, you still think

to escape easily, to keep the sympathy of a world which despises you.

You are afraid to do what God would have you do. You have the

opportunity, through grace, by your example to leave the world better

than you found it, to do a thing of such magnitude as is given to few

men, to confess before all that your life has been blind and wicked.

That is what the Spirit is trying to teach you. But you fear the

ridicule of the other blind men, you have not the faith to believe that

many eyes would be opened by your act. The very shame of such a

confession, you think, is not to be borne."

"Suppose I acknowledge, which I do not, your preposterous charge, how

would you propose to do this thing?"

"It is very simple," said the rector, "so far as the actual method of

procedure goes. You have only to establish a board of men in whom you

have confidence,--a court of claims, so to speak,--to pass upon the

validity of every application, not from a business standpoint alone, but

from one of a broad justice and equity. And not only that. I should

have it an important part of the duties of this board to discover for

themselves other claimants who may not, for various reasons, come

forward. In the case of the Consolidated Tractions, for instances there

are doubtless many men like Garvin who invested their savings largely on

the strength of your name. You cannot bring him back to life, restore

him to his family as he was before you embittered him, but it would be a

comparatively easy matter to return to his widow, with compound interest,

the sum which he invested."

"For the sake of argument," said Eldon Parr, "what would you do with the

innumerable impostors who would overwhelm such a board with claims that

they had bought and sold stock at a loss? And that is only one case I

could mention."

"Would it be so dreadful a thing," asked Hodder, "To run the risk of

making a few mistakes? It would not be business, you say. If you had

the desire to do this, you would dismiss such an obsession from your

brain, you would prefer to err on the aide of justice and mercy. And no

matter how able your board, in making restitution you could at best

expect to mend only a fraction of the wrongs you have done."

"I shall waive, for the moment, my contention that the Consolidated

Tractions Company, had it succeeded, would greatly have benefited the

city. Even if it had been the iniquitous, piratical transaction you

suggest, why should I assume the responsibility for all who were

concerned in it?"

"If the grace were given you to do this, that question would answer

itself," the rector replied. "The awful sense of responsibility, which

you now lack, would overwhelm you."

"You have made me out a rascal and a charlatan," said Eldon Parr, "and I

have listened' patiently in my desire to be fair, to learn from your own

lips whether there were anything in the extraordinary philosophy you have

taken up, and which you are pleased to call Christianity. If you will

permit me to be as frank as you have been, it appears to me as sheer

nonsense and folly, and if it were put into practice the world would be

reduced at once to chaos and anarchy."

"There is no danger, I am sorry to say, of its being put into practice at

once," said Hodder, smiting sadly.

"I hope not," answered the banker, dryly. "Utopia is a dream in which

those who do the rough work of the world cannot afford to indulge. And

there is one more question. You will, no doubt, deride it as practical,

but to my mind it is very much to the point. You condemn the business

practices in which I have engaged all my life as utterly unchristian. If

you are logical, you will admit that no man or woman who owns stock in a

modern corporation is, according to your definition, Christian, and, to

use your own phrase, can enter the Kingdom of God. I can tell you, as

one who knows, that there is no corporation in this country which, in the

struggle to maintain itself, is not forced to adopt the natural law of

the survival of the fittest, which you condemn. Your own salary, while

you had it, came from men who had made the money in corporations.

Business is business, and admits of no sentimental considerations. If

you can get around that fact, I will gladly bow to your genius. Should

you succeed in reestablishing St. John's on what you call a free basis

--and in my opinion you will not--even then the money, you would live on,

and which supported the church, would be directly or indirectly derived

from corporations."

"I do not propose to enter into an economics argument with you, Mr. Parr,

but if you tell me that the flagrant practices indulged in by those who

organized the Consolidated Tractions Company can be excused under any

code of morals, any conception of Christianity, I tell you they cannot.

What do we see today in your business world? Boards of directors,

trusted by stockholders, betraying their trust, withholding information

in order to profit thereby, buying and selling stock secretly; stock

watering, selling to the public diluted values,--all kinds of iniquity

and abuse of power which I need not go into. Do you mean to tell me, on

the plea that business is business and hence a department by itself, that

deception, cheating, and stealing are justified and necessary? The

awakened conscience of the public is condemning you.

"The time is at hand, though neither you nor I may live to see it, when

the public conscience itself is beginning to perceive thin higher justice

hidden from you. And you are attempting to mislead when you do not

distinguish between the men who, for their own gain and power, mismanage

such corporations as are mismanaged, and those who own stock and are

misled.

"The public conscience of which I speak is the leaven of Christianity at

work. And we must be content to work with it, to await its fulfilment,

to realize that no one of us can change the world, but can only do his

part in making it better. The least we can do is to refuse to indulge

in practices which jeopardize our own souls, to remain poor if we cannot

make wealth honestly. Say what you will, the Christian government we are

approaching will not recognize property, because it is gradually becoming

clear that the holding of property delays the Kingdom at which you scoff,

giving the man who owns it a power over the body of the man who does not.

Property produces slavery, since it compels those who have none to work

for those who have.

"The possession of property, or of sufficient property to give one

individual an advantage over his fellows is inconsistent with

Christianity. Hence it will be done away with, but only when enough have

been emancipated to carry this into effect. Hence the saying of our Lord

about the needle's eye--the danger to the soul of him who owns much

property."

"And how about your Christian view of the world as a vale of tears?"

Eldon Parr inquired.

"So long as humanity exists, there will always be tears," admitted the

rector. "But it is a false Christianity which does not bid us work for

our fellow-men, to relieve their suffering and make the world brighter.

It is becoming clear that the way to do this effectively is through

communities, cooperation, through nations, and not individuals. And

this, if you like, is practical,--so practical that the men like you,

who have gained unexampled privilege, fear it more and more. The old

Christian misconception, that the world is essentially a bad place, and

which has served the ends of your privilege, is going by forever. And

the motto of the citizens of the future will be the Christian motto,

'I am my brother's keeper.' The world is a good place because the Spirit

is continually working in it, to make it better. And life is good, if

only we take the right view of it,--the revealed view."

"What you say is all very fine," said Eldon Parr. "And I have heard it

before, from the discontented, the socialists. But it does not take into

account the one essential element, human nature."

"On the other hand, your scheme of life fails to reckon with the greater

factor, divine nature," Hodder replied.

"When you have lived as long as I have, perhaps you will think

differently, Mr. Hodder." Eldon Parr's voice had abruptly grown

metallic, as though the full realization had come over him of the

severity of the clergyman's arraignment; the audacity of the man who had

ventured to oppose him and momentarily defeated him, who had won the

allegiance of his own daughter, who had dared condemn him as an evil-doer

and give advice as to his future course. He, Eldon Parr, who had been

used to settle the destinies of men! His anger was suddenly at white

heat; and his voice, which he strove to control, betrayed it.

"Since you have rejected my offer, which was made in kindness, since you

are bent on ruining my daughter's life as well as your own, and she has

disregarded my wishes, I refuse to see either of you, no matter to what

straits you may come, as long as I live. That is understood. And she

leaves this house to-day, never to enter it again. It is useless to

prolong this conversation, I think."

"Quite useless, as I feared, Mr. Parr. Do you know why Alison is willing

to marry me? It is because the strength has been given me to oppose you

in the name of humanity, and this in spite of the fact that her love for

you to-day is greater than it has ever been before. It is a part of the

heavy punishment you have inflicted on yourself that you cannot believe

in her purity. You insist on thinking that the time will come when she

will return to you for help. In senseless anger and pride you are

driving her away from you whom you will some day need. And in that day,

should God grant you a relenting heart to make the sign, she will come to

you,--but to give comfort, not to receive it. And even as you have

threatened me, I will warn you, yet not in anger. Except a man be born

again, he cannot see the Kingdom of God, nor understand the motives of

those who would enter into it. Seek and pray for repentance."

Infuriated though he was, before the commanding yet compassionate bearing

of the rector he remained speechless. And after a moment's pause, Hodder

turned and left the room . . . .