BRINGING ABOUT AN UNDERSTANDING
Beth was much disappointed that evening; it was Saturday, yet Jim did
not come to dinner. She wished for him especially as a relief from the
irritation of Ellis's presence; she longed for Jim as the meal
progressed, for her father was very complacent to Ellis, and it troubled
her. But Ellis was a greater cause of distress, as he spoke more than
usual, and more directly at Judith. They were talking of politics, he
and the Colonel. Municipal affairs, Judith put in; what was the prospect
in them?
"A fight," answered Ellis, "and with the man I least like as my
opponent: your friend, George Mather. I expect he will be the reform
candidate for mayor--it is too bad!"
"Why?" asked Beth.
"Because," he answered, turning to her, "I should like to be friends
with him. If he and I could agree, nothing could stand before us. He is
the most energetic and far-sighted among the other side."
"Come over to him, then," said Beth bluntly.
He smiled at her. "I see that you think as Mather does. It's very
natural. But I have not only the misfortune to be with--well, let's say
the commoner people, but I also believe as they believe, and act as I do
from conviction. Nothing would give me greater pleasure, Miss Blanchard,
than to see things as you do, and to set myself, as I believe Mr. Mather
conscientiously does, against progress. There would be great personal
advantage to me in it."
"Mr. Ellis means," explained the Colonel, "that the defensive is always
the easiest side to fight on."
"More than that," added Ellis. "The other side in this quarrel is the
respectable one. Positively, I am almost disreputable." He paused for
her comment; Beth smiled with constraint, amazed at his boldness.
"Outwardly, you mean," said Judith.
"And only outwardly, I trust," he responded. "There are underlying
principles governing my actions (he was speaking to Beth again, after
turning to Judith for a single moment) which unfortunately do not
appear. I expect to be misunderstood by your friends."
"Always?" asked Beth. "Are not the rest of us to comprehend you some
day, Mr. Ellis?"
"Let me show you," he said, "how to comprehend me now." He leaned toward
her, smiling; for the first time Beth felt a magnetic quality in his
glance, but it was reptilian and unpleasant. He told her of his outlook
on the future; he grated on her, yet he impressed her, for even with
opponents such as Ellis she was reasonable. But she felt a fundamental
falsity, felt it but could not expose it; it was instinct alone that
taught her suspicion of his unanswerable words. For no logic could meet
them; they were wisdom itself. Of one thing, however, Beth felt certain:
that they were not directed at her but at Judith.
And Judith responded. When Ellis stopped speaking, she took up the word;
with real earnestness she explained, added, and finally approved. The
plan was wise, far-reaching--oh, thought Beth, if but Mather, and not
Ellis, had been the man to originate it! Then Beth started: had she not
once heard that Mather had made plans, perhaps just such as these, at
which the older heads had wondered? Although on mere conjecture, she
took up the matter as boldly as she could.
"I did not know, Mr. Ellis, that you were such an engineer."
"I am only a promoter," he answered. "You will find the opposition
newspapers calling me that. But I often handle large matters, and that
is how I came on the idea."
"You mean you found it?" she asked. "Did you not originate it?"
Ellis flushed and hesitated; Judith spoke quickly. "I don't suppose
anything in the world is so original that it hasn't been proposed
before. Mr. Ellis, Beth, is profiting by the experience of other
cities--aren't you?" And Judith turned to him.
Gratified, he assented. Beth saw the glance of understanding that passed
between them; turning to her father, she saw him watching Judith with
satisfaction. She felt almost faint: how was the world going so wrong
that this could happen? Nothing was left for Beth but to declare, as
brightly as she could--yet Judith felt the distress in her voice--that
this was all so new that she must think it over. After that she sat
silent.
But Judith, having expressed her zeal in Ellis's cause, was more than
ever pleased with herself and with him. It struck her particularly that
he was generous toward Mather, that it was kind of Ellis to praise him
and desire him as an ally, and that, contrasting with Mather's
denunciation of his rival, Ellis showed the finer character. She was
about to question him again when the servant brought a note and laid it
at her plate.
"The messenger asked me to deliver it to you at once, Miss Judith."
Judith took it up; it was addressed in Mather's hand. Her instant
impulse to destroy it he had foreseen, for in the corner of the envelope
he had written "Not personal." So, still flushing with the indignation
she had first felt, she opened the envelope and took out the note. It
was written on the paper of the University Club.
"_My dear Judith_: I must find Jim Wayne, but Beth must not know.
Trusting absolutely to your secrecy, I give my reasons. Matters
have been mismanaged at the mill; and just now, calling on Mrs.
Wayne, I found her in despair over the disappearance of her
securities. I fear that Jim has been speculating, and I am sure he
is avoiding me, but I must find him before he takes it into his
head to leave the city, for perhaps I can set matters right. If he
comes to your house, will you immediately telephone me at the club?
I am
Yours in great haste,
GEORGE MATHER."
Judith was not one to be disturbed by sudden news, bad or good; she took
this calmly. But as she sat, still looking at the letter, its meaning
began to come upon her. Jim had been with Ellis that afternoon, had had
some previous understanding with him, had almost accused him. Jim had
fled at Mather's coming, leaving unsaid more of those reproaches and
demands with which he had showered Ellis. His very words came back to
her: "Who gave me the idea? Who told me what to do?" Then she remembered
Ellis's cold remark: "Wayne, you have no claim upon me."
Not understanding why, Judith began to tremble, and her hands grew cold.
It was as if her instinct outstripped her mind and gave warning of what
was coming. Slowly, sitting there in her place and looking straight
before her, she began to unravel the puzzle. Ellis looked at her once,
curiously; then Beth, seeing the glance and noting Judith's absorption,
took her place in the conversation. Judith thought on. If Jim had
speculated, had Ellis known? Had Ellis led him into it? Once in, did
Ellis refuse to help him? She recalled what Mather had said of Ellis
discarding his tools. But how could Jim be of use to him,
except--yes!--as a handle, a hold on her through Beth! And was this
Ellis's method of bringing Jim into his power? She heard again the boy's
despairing words: "Who gave me the idea?"
She looked at Ellis: what was this wild suspicion? Could it be true?
Beth, not knowing what else to speak about, had made him talk of the
suggested strike. Ellis had laughed about it. There would be no strike.
"Why," he was saying as Judith looked at him, "the air seems charged
with strike-talk sometimes, yet nothing comes of it. Now that I think of
it," and he paused to laugh, "a man tried blackmail on me this
afternoon. He was a fellow I once had to do with when we were both
younger, a crank if ever there was one. He has ideas of the rights of
the workingman, yet he is far from honest. He came to me with the
statement that he could bring on the strike if he wished--with his
socialistic talk, you understand. He wished me to pay him to keep from
haranguing my men."
"Did you do it?" Judith suddenly demanded.
"No, no," he said lightly. "A mere agitator, he could do no harm."
"An agitator?" asked Beth, interested. "Why, there was such a man at
George's mill this summer. Don't you remember, Judith. He tried to bring
about a strike there. I wonder if it was the same man, Mr. Ellis. Was
his name Stock?"
Judith had watched steadily. At Beth's first words Ellis had changed,
hardened, made his face stone. But at the name--did he not control a
start? Yet he answered with indifference. "Oh, no. There are many such
fellows. It is quite another man."
But he glanced at Judith, and though he did it quietly and steadily, as
once he had described his habit to be, she recalled the conversation
which she had overheard, and understood it all. She _had_ known the
voice, the husky tones which became harsh when raised. She remembered
the words, the Chebasset job for which money had been promised, yet
which had failed. And Ellis had paid--had paid! The meanness, the whole
base plot, was revealed to her.
The servant had come with the dessert, but Judith rose from her chair;
her face was white. "I cannot eat any more," she said. "You must excuse
me."
"Is anything----" began her father.
"I must go," she said, and went into the parlour, wishing only to be
alone and think, to despise herself at leisure. Ellis had revealed not
only himself, but also her blind folly. She cast herself upon the sofa
and put her face in her hands.
Then she heard his footsteps; he had followed. He crossed the room; she
felt him sit beside her, and she heard his voice. He spoke gently. "Miss
Judith--Judith!" He took her hand to draw it from her face.
His touch was a disgrace, but she yielded her hand to his; she wished
his fingers might burn like fire, to brand her punishment. Writhing in
spirit as she felt herself unclean, for very scorn would not resist him.
"Judith," he repeated, his hope rising, "you are not ill?"
"No." She turned and looked upon him resolutely; she would see once more
this man whom she had admired.
"If anything I have said," he went on, "if I have--oh, did it come over
you then so strongly that you left the table? Did you feel that we are
made for each other?"
She withdrew her hand quickly. "Made for each other!"
His face changed, the eagerness was checked, and he said the
conventional words, conventionally: "I love you."
She looked into him: how small he was! How cold his voice, which should
have been impassioned! "Love me?" she asked. "You love crooked ways!"
Slowly he rose. "What is this?" he asked.
"I so felt our--sympathy, that I left the table? Oh, yes, yes!" Scorn
overcame her; again she hid her face. Oh, but to die from the strength
of this hatred of herself!
She heard him walk away; then he returned and stood before her. "I do
not understand you," he said. "I have been foolish, perhaps, but I told
the truth. I do feel that we are made for each other. Will you marry
me?"
Her contempt of him left her; she loathed only herself. All through this
acquaintance he had been his natural man; it was she who had deceived
herself. For that she could not punish him. "I cannot marry you," she
answered.
His effort at self-control was visible, but it succeeded. "I beg," he
said, "that you will give me time. If I have been hasty----"
"No," she said, rising and facing him. "Mr. Ellis, I acknowledge that I
have treated you badly; I am as sorry as I can be. Can I say more than
that? Yes, I beg you to forgive me. But I can never marry you."
He pressed his lips firmly together; his brows contracted, and he looked
at her out of those narrow eyes which could control his subordinates or
threaten his opponents. But she met him with sorrow, not defiance, and
he could not understand.
"What has happened?" he cried. "Yesterday--this very day----"
"You were sure of me?" she asked. "Rightly, Mr. Ellis. But now it is too
late."
"What is it, then? Has that fellow Mather----?"
"Yourself only," she interrupted. "I beg you to leave me."
He looked at her a moment longer; then he left the room. But not the
house: she heard him go to the dining-room and speak to her father. Then
Beth came into the parlour quickly; she was agitated.
"Judith----"
"Not now, Beth," and Beth left her again.
There was a pause, and then her father came; she heard his dragging
step. When he appeared he showed the last shreds of his natural
feeling--shame that at Ellis's order he should come to advise his child.
"Judith," he began, "Mr. Ellis tells me that--that you----"
"I have declined to marry him," she said.
"Why is this?" he asked. "It has seemed so plain that you would take
him."
Judith hung her head. Had it then been so plain? "I have changed."
"Come," said the Colonel with an attempt at briskness. "You can't mean
this. There's nothing against Ellis that I can see."
"Nothing?" she asked. "And you say that, father? What will our friends
say."
"Girls marry out of their station," he urged uneasily. "We can bring him
in, Judith."
"Father," she demanded, "what hold has he on you, to make you say
this?"
"Hold?" he asked. "My dear child, there is nothing of the sort." But
when the truth was thrust directly at him the Colonel was a poor actor.
"There is something between you," Judith said.
"I have come to see Mr. Ellis in a different light," he explained. "That
is all there is to it."
"Father," cried Judith, "tell me!"
He turned away from her and began to walk up and down, but she held his
sleeve and stopped him.
"Father!" she beseeched.
He tried to meet her eye, and failed; he looked at the carpet and
shifted his feet. But still he felt her insistent grasp upon his arm,
and at last he spoke huskily.
"Judith, I owe him money."
"Oh!" she gasped, and fell away from him. "Father, what have you done?"
Yet feeling that she had not even the right to reproach him, she said no
more. As she stood with bowed head, he took courage.
"You see," he said, "why it must be."
"Must be?" she demanded. "Oh, father, does that make it inevitable?"
"Judith," he asked her, startled. "Do you mean that you--you won't?"
"How much do you owe him?" she questioned with energy.
"Some thousands."
"Well," she said, "what are four or five thousand? We can sell the house
and live differently."
He looked his alarm. "It is more than five," he said. "Nearer ten
thousand."
"The house is worth more than that," she responded.
"But to leave this place?" he objected. "Judith, this is absurd,
unreasonable! Where could we go?"
"Go anywhere!" she answered. "Live as we must. Father, you can work."
"Work?" he gasped. "I--work?"
"Then I will support you. Beth and I."
"No, no!" he said in despair. "I couldn't stand it; I couldn't exist. At
my age; think of that!" and his tone turned to pleading.
She heard a footstep at the threshold, and there was Ellis. He entered
and spoke to her. "I couldn't wait. Miss Blanchard, has not your father
persuaded you?"
She turned upon him with flaming eye. "How did you first persuade him?
Did you offer to release his debt?"
"So," he snarled to the Colonel, "you have told!"
The Colonel stepped away from the venomous gleam of his teeth. "She made
me," he stammered.
"Made you!"
"There is no advantage in discussing this, Mr. Ellis," said Judith.
"Do not count it against me," he urged quickly. "Your father came to me
of himself, asking for help. I did it for you."
"You would have served me better by refusing. But Mr. Ellis, the money
shall be paid."
"Paid with money?" he asked. With clenched hands he turned upon the
Colonel. "Oh, you fool!"
"Father!" cried Judith, and stepped between them to restrain the burst
of military wrath which should cast Ellis from the house. But to her
amazement her father stood motionless, almost cringing. Then first she
recognised the slow degeneration which in all these years had been going
on beneath the unchanged exterior. "Father!" she said again, but now in
pity, and took her place at his side. She felt, as he made a little
movement toward her, his gratitude for the protection--another
revelation of his loss of manliness. "Mr. Ellis, there is nothing
further to say."
"Oh, you have led me on to this!" he cried. "Was it put up between you?
Such a way to gain money!"
Instinctively she took her father's arm, to hold him; again he proved,
by his passivity, that his spirit was all gone. "Will you leave us?" she
asked coldly.
"Oh!" Ellis cried, shaking with anger and carried away. "You put it on
well! Because I am not one of you, you tricked me, then? And was it
Mather all the time? But my turn is coming!" He would have said more,
but she left her father and went toward the door. Then he saw how
hopelessly he was cutting himself off from her. "Oh, forgive me--Judith!
I am frantic."
But she turned at the door, and standing like an angry goddess, pointed
into the hallway. "Go!" she commanded.
"Miss Blanchard!" he exclaimed in consternation.
"Go!"
His hold on her was gone forever; he saw it, and his venom returned. He
went swiftly to her father; she did not hear the words that Ellis
hissed. "I have bought up the mortgages on this house; you know they are
long overdue. Monday I turn you out!"
With delight he saw the Colonel flinch, but by no effort of resolution
could Ellis meet the glance of the haughty figure at the door. Yet as he
passed her Judith quailed and shivered, for by the same commanding
gesture she had sent Mather from the house.