ELLIS TAKES HIS LAST STEP BUT ONE
It was midwinter, in the full swing of social events, yet Judith had
been withdrawing herself more and more from what was going on. She
disliked people's talk; besides, her interest in mere frivolity was
growing less, fixing itself with proportionate keenness upon Ellis's
affairs.
For Ellis came continually oftener, and at last she had begun to look
forward to his visits. More than one of his interests had been growing
complicated; he told her of them freely. Most of all, the street-railway
matter promised trouble from the threatened strike.
On the evening of Ellis's and the Colonel's third exchange of note and
check Ellis came to see Judith; she was very ready for a talk. It
pleased and flattered him to see the flash of the eye lighting up her
beauty, the eagerness with which she led him to the familiar subject.
"Stunning!" he thought to himself. "Is she dressed up so for me?" The
handsome gown, the few but valuable jewels--and the face! "Soon!" he
said to himself confidently. Meanwhile, step by step!
He had planned the next one carefully, spending on it more thought than
on many of his great strokes in politics or business. She was more on
his mind than ever, partly because, as a woman, she was a strange
problem to him; partly, however, because his interest in her was growing
steadily deeper, and to win her was becoming constantly of greater
moment. The unnamed emotion still increasing in him, he explained it by
the fact that it was impossible for him to be contented as he once was,
in the days when he drove without rest at his politics or business,
having nothing to look forward to at the day's end, and with only the
dull set of common-minded men as his companions. How far finer was
Judith than they! Though he still feared her idealism, it gave him a
sense of the worth of beauty and refinement. And that other faculty in
her, to appreciate his material achievements, was not only a stimulus
which he felt had become indispensable, but was also the susceptibility
by which he hoped to win her. Aiming all his powers at that weakness,
and looking back on the occasion when the mere sight of Mather was
enough to capture Judith's attention from him, Ellis planned so to raise
her interest in himself that it would permit of no interruption.
He told her of the threatened strike. The demands of the men were not
serious; it would not be a great drain on his pocket to grant the
increase in wages. The free transfers would be troublesome; the extra
service in rush hours a bother: nevertheless, all this could be
undertaken, and would be, if it were not for the principle involved. And
in order that he might know how to decide, he needed her help.
"My help!" cried Judith.
"Perhaps," he said, smiling at her interest, "you don't realise that I
consult you, Miss Blanchard. But all these things I speak to you about
have more or less dependence on the state of public feelings. Do you
know that I have come to consider you as a kind of barometer of that?"
"Me?" she cried again, much pleased.
"You read the papers, and digest the news. You see people and talk
things over. You're rather above ordinary business, naturally, and so,
looking down on its workings, it seems to me as if you see _into_ it. Do
you understand? You see clearer than the men themselves who are in the
midst of it."
"I never supposed that," she said. "I never dreamed of it!"
"You have a habit of looking forward, too," he went on. "That's what I
like, what I need. I get confused myself, sometimes; I can't see the
battle for the smoke. My own strategy is often doubtful to me. Then I
turn to you."
"You overrate me," she exclaimed.
"Not I," he answered. "You aren't offended if I speak so frankly? For I
wouldn't make use of you unless you are quite willing."
"Certainly I am willing to help," she said.
"Thank you," he replied. "Now it's this way, Miss Blanchard. I'm not
working only for the present, as I think you know. I'm looking rather
farther forward than most people. Besides, I'm mixed up in many matters.
Finally I'm rather alone. Politics, the railway, the cotton corporation,
half a dozen things I carry almost by myself; I'm the chief, anyway; I
haven't even a partner to consult. I have to watch my own lieutenants to
see they do things right, good workers as they are. It's brains I need
to help me--reliable scouts and clear-headed advisers."
"I can't be an adviser," said Judith, "but I could scout, perhaps. Will
you let me?"
"I want you for both," he returned. "You can advise, and you do. I want
some scouting just now, and advice after it, by somebody absolutely
impartial. Somebody who wouldn't hesitate to set me right if she saw
that I was wrong."
"Tell me!" begged Judith.
"I have my preconceived notions," he said. "Let me explain them to you,
so that you can understand the line I'm working on. This isn't capital
versus labour, Miss Blanchard; it isn't even the corporation against the
public--not as I look at it. No, it's the present against the future. I
could do the things the public wants; certainly I could. But that's not
the point. The question is, do they know what's best for themselves?
That's for you and me to decide!"
He had been leaning forward, speaking with emphasis; now as he finished
he sat again upright, but the flash of his eye kindled an answering fire
in hers. "For you and me!" she repeated.
He leaned forward again, holding her glance with his. "The people," he
said, "think they know what they want. But the best of them are very
shortsighted, even the educated men. Your friends are beginning to join
the cry against me; I won't deny it sounds mighty reasonable: Better
hours and pay for the men; better service for the people. Well, do you
or I suppose that's all there is in it?"
She drew in her breath; how much more he saw, and knew, than others!
"Let's go back," he said. "I'm in politics, indirectly. I'm blamed for
it. Fellows, good fellows I've known for years, are looked down on and
called Ellis's men, just because they see things as I do. All very well
for men who sit back with white gloves on their hands and say that
politics aren't clean. Come now, I'll acknowledge it to you, Miss
Blanchard, politics are not clean. I've seen things done that--well,
never mind. I believe corruption has been in the world since the first
of time; I think it's in a certain grade of human nature. You can't get
it out. But there's less of it than is supposed; and on my word, Miss
Blanchard, none of it can be laid to me!"
Again she drew a breath, and still meeting his eye, she nodded her
agreement.
"If one of those fellows, in the city government through no act of mine,
votes for my measures, shall I pay him not to? There are few enough of
them. Well, we understand that, but people might ask me why I'm in
politics at all. Miss Blanchard, I point to what I've done. And to what
I'm doing! Sometimes it hurts me that people misunderstand me; mostly I
laugh. But I want you to know, as I guess you do anyway. I'm building
this city for the future."
Again he drew away and made the impressive pause, but in a moment he was
once more at the charge. "The water-works affair, look at that! People
cry 'Steal! Boodle!' But do they know what I'm doing? Do they know what
I'm saving them from? Miss Blanchard, you know, if they don't, that this
city is at a turning point in its development. We're just growing from a
small city into a big one. Then it's the part of the men with brains to
prepare for the change. Look at Boston, look at New York: see how
they're struggling with their water problems, their lighting problems,
above all with their transportation problems--and why?" He snapped out
the question abruptly, then answered it himself. "Because they didn't
look forward and prepare! But that's just what I propose to do for
Stirling!"
She was quite his own now, listening as if fascinated. Her bright eye
was fixed on his, confusing him slightly, yet it gave encouragement. His
confidence increased, and after a moment he began again with more
energy.
"Look at the water-works--they're vast! I've condemned a whole valley
out Grantham way; the reservoirs we're making are much too large for
the city. But in ten years, what then? Still too large, I'll grant. Yet
when Stirling is twice its present size, _then_ the reservoir and park
system, for I'm combining them, will have been got so cheaply that this
city will be richer than any other. Water system installed, lighting
problems solved, all land necessary for municipal purposes bought and
paid for _now_. The next generation, Miss Blanchard, will have reason to
praise us. Isn't that plain? And I mean to do the same with the
transportation system."
"Go on!" she begged him as he paused.
"It's somewhat different in this case," he said. "The water-works are
being made with public money, the parks also. But the street-railway is
a corporation, and although I control it, there are stockholders to
consider, and a great big public to keep in good temper while at the
same time I am working for the future. There's a problem, Miss
Blanchard--to pay dividends, put on extra cars, and raise wages, while
I'm buying land for future stations, barns, and terminals, and while I'm
even thinking of the construction of a subway."
"A subway!" she cried.
"Yes," he answered, "don't you see the advantage of it?"
"Indeed I do," exclaimed Judith. "Our streets are very crowded now, down
town, and the cars make such blocks! But a subway! Wouldn't it be
terribly expensive?"
"Looked at in a broad way, no," he answered. "To condemn and take the
necessary real estate will cost nothing now to what it will ten years
hence. And can you doubt that it will be needed then? Then why not set
about it now? Why not ask the public to incommode itself for a while, to
gain a permanent benefit? What they ask is only temporary; if we let
things slip along from year to year, patching up and patching on, we'll
never be better off. There was a man hired a place; in fifteen years of
rent he paid the whole value of it and yet didn't own it. Better to have
mortgaged and bought, in the first place. That's what I propose to do
here."
"I understand," she said.
"I acknowledge," he went on, "that I appoint myself to do these things.
Officious, isn't it? And I'm selfish about it. I want to do it my own
way, and I want to have the credit of doing it. Oh, it's a job, it's a
task!" As if carried away by enthusiasm, he rose and stood before her.
"I tell you, Miss Blanchard," he cried, "I am just beginning the hardest
fight of my life! But I like work, I enjoy a fight, and with the help of
my friends (and you're the chief of them) I shall put it through!"
He took three steps away from her, and she watched him, not feeling her
throbbing heart and quickened breath. As he turned again, she asked him
how he meant to go about the work.
"By legislative help," he explained, coming back to his seat by her
side. "Prepare to hear a good deal against me: that I've bought the
common council and own seats in the legislature, for instance. It's long
been said that the mayor's my own--for purposes of corruption, of
course. Now you can see that my plans are too big for me to carry out by
myself, or even for the corporation to do alone. I must have public
money to help me. And besides that, more than that, I must be granted
the application of a principle which has seldom, almost never, been
allowed out of the hands of the legislature or the courts."
"What is that?" she asked.
He answered, "Eminent domain!"
"To be able," she asked in astonishment, "by yourself to condemn and
take land?"
"Yes," he answered confidently.
"You will meet very strong opposition."
"I expect it," he replied. "And I shall be justified in asking for the
right. I am looking to the result."
She nodded thoughtfully.
"Now, your part in this," he began again, and she looked up quickly, "is
to be, if you will let me say it so, my ear. The plan will be proposed
soon; I shall know what's said for it, I want to know what's said
against it. You can help me gage the quality of the opposition. Will you
do it?"
"Willingly," she answered. "But the strike?"
"Ah," he returned, "I wish I might ask you to help me there also. There
are two things which can assure a strike success: one is determination
in the men themselves, one is the sympathy of the public. Do you go
about enough, do you see people enough--of the middle class, I mean--to
be able to form an opinion on these two points?"
"I can do so," she answered.
"Thank you," he said eagerly. "One thing more--your advice! When you
have done all this, will you give me your opinion freely?"
"If it is of any worth," she replied, "you will be welcome to it."
The enthusiasm, he feared, had lapsed; he did his best to rouse it. "If
you range yourself against me, I shall not be surprised."
"I? Against you!" she cried.
"I appreciate the ties of habit and friendship," he said. "But for them
there are many who would be with me. Conservatism is a strong force, as
I know very well."
"Do you think," she inquired, "that I cannot see the wise course when
you show it to me so clearly?"
He concealed his gratification by a counter question. "Do you see the
struggle which is to come out of this?"
"How much and how long will it be?"
"It may take years," he said. "Political campaigns may turn on it. Next
fall's election, the mayoralty, may be determined by what we two, here
in this parlour, talk over by ourselves." He saw the flush which
overspread her face, the pride which came into her eyes, yet he
hesitated before the final stroke.
"Will all that happen?" she asked eagerly.
She opened the way for him. Dropping his eyes, he sat for a moment to
collect himself; when he looked up his face was serious. "Miss
Blanchard," he said, "there will be from all this certain results,
personal to me, which are beginning to show very clearly. Whether your
friends are going to make this a demonstration against me, or whether
they think they must act, I can't say, but we are going to come to an
open rupture." Then he looked at her with a smile which was half amused,
half deprecatory. "Do you remember that I once confessed to you my
foolish social ambition?"
"It was not foolish!" she objected.
"Perhaps not," he returned, "and yet--perhaps. At any rate, I had the
ambition once."
"Do you not now?" she asked.
"If I have," Ellis answered, "I may have to give it up. For if your
friends come out against me, and if we fight this to a finish, then it
will all amount to this: that I must choose between my career and
my--acquaintances."
He was managing her well! He felt an unauthorised emotion, prompting
him to say words akin to those which he had heard Jim say to Beth,
but--with such inspiration as Judith's--far more strong and eager. Yet
all such feeling he beat down, and though she felt the lack, he was
succeeding with her. Coldly as he made his statements and carefully
repressed all emotion, he was still able to rouse her enthusiasm.
"Would you hesitate?" she asked with spirit.
"It seems easy to you," he returned steadily, "but consider. It means
that I must live a life alone. I have the American spirit, Miss
Blanchard, which urges me upward. I have seen what is better than what I
have; I am trying for it. Whatever happens, I won't go back. But the
door is shut in my face. So I stay alone outside."
"It must not be!" she exclaimed.
"But if it happens so?"
"It is too unjust!" She could say nothing more, but her feelings
enlisted her on his side, and she restrained herself with difficulty.
Her generosity, her energy, showed so plainly in her glowing features
that he asked himself: "Is this the moment?" Then the rings of the
portieres rattled.
It was the Colonel, who, having heard the earnest tones, and knowing
well how to approach Judith on an unpleasant subject, chose to come now
in order to protect himself by the presence of a third person. "Judith,"
he said, standing before them, beaming benevolently, "I have just had an
idea. It was very pleasant when Mr. Ellis dined with us recently.
Suppose we ask him again, and have some others here: Mrs. Harmon, say,
for a matron, and some of our friends.--With Ellis here," the Colonel
thought, "she can't refuse."
But he was surprised at the eagerness with which she accepted the
suggestion. Judith began at once to plan whom she should ask, and
astonished the Colonel by the names she mentioned. The Judge, the
Fennos, none of the younger people. "A formidable affair," exclaimed he,
surprised and puzzled. "Do you think that you care to attempt so much?"
Judith turned to Ellis. "You shall see!" she said.
"You are very kind," he answered.
And now he was all on fire, waiting for the Colonel to go. This girl, so
cold to others, so kind to him, was wonderful. With her, what could he
not achieve? "Go, go!" he found himself muttering impatiently, as still
the Colonel stayed. Why did he not leave them to themselves?
But it was Judith who was keeping her father, for she had seen the
shadow of the approaching crisis, and feared it as a woman may who,
having once dreamed of love, flinches at a union devoid of passion. Not
yet! So she made the Colonel talk. Ellis finally took his leave;
certainly much had been gained. Judith accompanied him to the door.
"I shall think over all you have said," she told him. "It is wonderful,
what you have planned!"
"And you will help me?" he asked.
"Be sure of that," she replied.
Yes, much had been gained, he told himself as he went away. He had
thrilled her, and if he could rouse her so easily----He struck his hands
together. There should be no more delay.
Judith went into the sitting-room, where her father was explaining to
Beth the plans for the dinner. Judith felt that she was trembling with
the reaction from her previous excitement; as Beth's quiet eyes rested
on her it seemed as if her feelings could be read. "Don't you think it
will be pleasant, Beth?" asked the Colonel.
"No," answered Beth firmly. "I hope it will not be done."
Leaving her father to expostulate and argue, Judith went up-stairs to
her chamber. Beth's disapproval had the effect of a cold sponge pressed
upon her temples; she began to control herself. Never had Judith been
able to overlook Beth's opinion lightly; she expressed the feeling of
the best of their caste. What power had Ellis, Judith asked, that he
could so carry her away? She sat down to reason with herself, to measure
by line and square the structure reared by his imagination. Then she
began to glow again: how wonderful, far-reaching, philanthropic were his
plans!
In that mood she went to bed, and had fallen into a doze when she became
aware that some one was replenishing the fire. When the bright blaze had
lighted up the ceiling, Beth, in her wrapper, came and seated herself at
Judith's side.