It was Templeton Thorpe's contention that Braden was a family investment,
and that a good investment will take care of itself if properly handled.
He considered himself quite capable of making a man of Braden, but he did
not allow the boy to think that the job was a one-sided undertaking.
Braden worked for all that he received. There was no silver platter, no
golden spoon in Mr. Thorpe's cupboard. They understood each other
perfectly and Templeton Thorpe was satisfied with his investment.
That is why his eyes twinkled when Braden burst into the library after his
fruitless appeal to Mrs. Tresslyn. He smiled as one smiles with relief
when a craft he is watching glides safely but narrowly past a projecting
abutment.
"Calm yourself," he remarked after Braden's somewhat wild and incoherent
beginning. "And sit down. You will not get anywhere pacing this twenty by
thirty room, and you are liable to run into something immovable if you
don't stop glaring at me and watch out where you are going instead."
"Sit down?" shouted Braden, stopping before the old man in the chair, his
hands clinched and his teeth showing. "I'll never sit down in your house
again! What do you think I am? A snivelling, cringing dog that has to lick
your hand for—"
"Now, now!" admonished the old man, without anger. "If you will not sit
down, at least be kind enough to stand still. I can't understand half you
say while you are stamping around like that. This isn't a china shop.
Control yourself. Now, let's have it in so many words and not so many
gesticulations. So Anne declined to see you, eh?"
"I don't believe Anne had a voice in the matter. Mrs. Tresslyn is at the
back of all this. She is the one who has roped you in,—duped you, or
whatever you choose to call it without resorting to profanity. She's
forcing Anne into this damnable marriage, and she is making a perfect fool
of you. Can't you see it? Can't you see—but, my God, how can I ask that
question of you? When a man gets to be as old as you, he—" He broke off
abruptly, on the point of uttering the unforgivable.
"Go on, my boy," said Templeton Thorpe quietly. "Say it. I shan't mind."
"Oh, what's the use?" groaned the miserable lover. "I cannot say anything
more to you, sir, than I said early this afternoon. I told you then just
what I think of your treachery. There isn't anything more for me to say,
but I'd like you to know that Anne despises you. Her mother acknowledges
that much at least,—and, curse her, without shame!"
"I am quite well aware of the fact, Braden," said the old man. "You
couldn't expect her to love me, could you?"
"Then, why in God's name are you marrying her? Why are you spoiling my
life? Why are you—"
"Is it spoiling your life to have the girl you love turn to and marry an
old wreck such as I am, just because I happen to be willing to pay her two
million dollars,—in advance, you might say? Is that spoiling your life or
saving it?"
Mr. Thorpe had dropped the cynical, half-amused air, and was now speaking
with great intensity. Braden, struck by the change, turned suddenly to
regard the old man with a new and puzzled light in his lowering eyes.
"See here, my lad, you've had your chance. I knew what I was about when I
sent you to see her. I knew precisely what would happen. She wants to
marry you, but she prefers to marry me. That isn't as ambiguous as it
sounds. Just think it over,—later on, not now, for I have something else
to say to you. Do me the honour to be seated. Thank you. Now, you've got
quite a good-sized, respectable nose upon your face. I submit that the
situation is quite as plain as that nose, if you look at it in the broad
light of understanding. If you think that I am marrying Anne because I
love her, or because I am in my dotage and afflicted with senility, you
are very much mistaken. If you think I am giving her two million dollars
as a wedding gift because I expect it to purchase her love and esteem, you
do my intelligence an injustice. If you think that I relish the prospect
of having that girl in my house from now till the day I die, worrying the
soul out of me, you are too simple for words. I am marrying her, not
because I love her, my lad, but—but because I love _you_. God forbid that
I should ever sink so low as to steal from my own flesh and blood.
Stealing is one thing, bartering another. I expect to convince you that I
have not taken anything from you that is of value, hence I am not a
malefactor."
Braden, seated opposite him, his elbows on the arms of the chair, leaned
forward and watched the old man curiously. A new light had come into his
eyes when Mr. Thorpe uttered those amazing words—"but because I love
_you_." He was beginning to see, he was beginning to analyse the old man's
motives, he was groping his way out of the fog.
"You will have hard work to convince me that I have not been treated most
unfairly, most vilely," said he, his lips still compressed.
"Many years ago," said Mr. Thorpe, fixing his gaze on the lazy fire, "I
asked Anne's grandmother to marry me. I suppose I thought that I was
unalterably in love with her. I was the very rich son of a very rich man,
and—pardon my conceit—what you would call an exceedingly good catch. Well,
in those days things were not as they are now. The young lady, a great
beauty and amazingly popular, happened to be in love with Roger Blair, a
good-looking chap with no fortune and no prospects. She took the advice of
her mother and married the man she loved, disdaining my riches and me as
well. Roger wasn't much of a success as a husband, but he was a source of
enlightenment and education to his wife. Not in the way you would suspect,
however. He managed in very short order to convince her that it is a very
ignorant mother who permits her daughter to marry a man without means.
They hadn't been married three years when his wife had learned her lesson.
It was too late to get rid of Roger, and by that time I was happily
married to a girl who was quite as rich as I, and could afford to do as
she pleased. So, you see, Anne's grandmother had to leave me out of the
case, even though Roger would have been perfectly delighted to have given
her sufficient grounds for divorce. I think you knew Anne's grandmother,
Braden?" He paused for an answer, a sly, appraising look in his eyes.
Receiving no response except a slight nod of the head, he chuckled softly
and went on with the history.
"Poor soul, she's gone to her reward. Now we come to Anne's mother. She
was an only child,—and one was quite enough, I assure you. No mother ever
had greater difficulty in satisfactorily placing a daughter than had Mrs.
Blair. There was an army of young but not very dependable gentlemen who
would have married her like a flash, notwithstanding her own poverty, had
it not been for the fact that Mrs. Blair was so thoroughly educated by
this time that she couldn't even contemplate a mistake in her
calculations. She had had ample proof that love doesn't keep the wolf from
the door, nor does it draw five per cent, as some other bonds do. She
brought Constance up in what is now considered to be the most approved
fashion in high society. The chap who had nothing but health and ambition
and honour and brains to offer, in addition to that unprofitable thing
called love, was a viper in Mrs. Blair's estimation. He was very properly
and promptly stamped upon by the fond mother and doubtless was very glad
to crawl off into the high grass, out of danger. He—"
"What has all this got to do with your present behaviour?" demanded Braden
harshly. "Speaking of vipers," he added, by way of comment.
"I am coming to that," said Mr. Thorpe, resenting the interruption but not
its sting. "After a careful campaign, Arthur Tresslyn was elected. He had
a great deal of money, a kind heart and scarcely any brains. He was an
ideal choice, everybody was agreed upon that. The fellow that Constance
was really in love with at the time, Jimmy Gordon, was a friend of your
father's. Well, the gentle Arthur went to pieces financially a good many
years ago. He played hob with all the calculations, and so we find
Constance, his wife, lamenting in the graveyard of her hopes and cursing
Jimmy Gordon for his unfaithfulness in marrying before he was in a
position to do so. If Jimmy had remained single for twelve years longer
than he did, I daresay Arthur's widow would have succeeded in nabbing him
whether or no. Arthur managed to die very happily, they say, quite well
pleased with himself for having squandered the fortune which brought him
so much misery. Now we come to Anne, Arthur's daughter. She became deeply
enamoured of a splendid, earnest young chap named Braden Thorpe, grandson
of the wealthy and doddering Templeton Thorpe, and recognised as his sole
heir. Keep your seat, Braden; I am coming to the point. This young Thorpe
trusted the fair and beautiful Anne. He set out to make a name and fortune
for himself and for her. He sought knowledge and experience in distant
lands, leaving his poor old grandfather at home with nothing to amuse
himself with except nine millions of dollars and his dread of death. While
Braden was experimenting in London, this doddering, senile old gentleman
of Washington Square began to experiment a little on his own account. He
set out to discover just what sort of stuff this Anne Tresslyn was made of
and to prove to himself that she was worthy of his grandson's love. He
began with the girl's mother. As soon as possible, he explained to her
that money is a curse. She agreed that money is a curse if you haven't got
it. In time, he confessed to her that he did not mean to curse his
grandson with an unearned fortune, and that he intended to leave him in
his will the trifling sum of fifty thousand dollars, thereby endowing him
with the ambition and perhaps the energy to earn more and at the same time
be of great benefit to the world in which he would have to struggle. Also,
he let it be known that he was philanthropically inclined, that he
purposed giving a great many millions to science and that his death would
be of untold value to the human race. Are you attending, Braden? If you
are not, I shall stop talking at once. It is very exhausting and I haven't
much breath or time to waste."
"I am listening. Go on," said Braden, suddenly sitting up in his chair and
taking a long, deep breath. The angry, antagonistic light was gone from
his eyes.
"Well, the clever Mrs. Tresslyn was interested—deeply interested in my
disclosures. She did not hesitate to inform me that Anne couldn't begin to
live on the income from a miserable fifty thousand, and actually laughed
in my face when I reminded her of the young lady's exalted preference for
love in a cottage and joy at any price. Biding my time, I permitted the
distressing truth to sink in. You will remember that Anne's letters began
to come less frequently about four months ago, and—"
"How do you happen to know about that?" broke in the young man, in
surprise.
"Where she had been in the habit of writing twice and even three times a
week," went on Mr. Thorpe, "she was content to set herself to the task of
dropping you a perfunctory letter once in a fortnight. You will also
recall that her letters were not so full of intensity—or enthusiasm: they
lacked fervour, they fell off considerably in many ways. I happen to know
about all this, Braden, because putting two and two together has always
been exceedingly simple for me. You see, it was about three months ago
that Anne began to reveal more than casual interest in Percy Wintermill.
She—"
"Percy Wintermill!" gasped Braden, clutching the arms of his chair. "Why,
she has always looked upon him as the stupidest, ugliest man in town. His
attentions have been a standing joke between us. He is crazy about her, I
know, but—oh, well, go on with the story."
"To be sure he is crazy about her, as you say. That isn't strange. Half
the young men in town think they are in love with her, and most of them
believe she could make them happy. Now, no one concedes physical beauty or
allurement to Percy. He is as ugly as they grow, but he isn't stupid. He
is just a nice, amiable, senseless nincompoop with a great deal of money
and a tremendous amount of health. He—"
"I like Wintermill. He is one of my best friends. He is as square as any
man I know and he would be the last person to try to come between Anne and
me. He is too fond of me for that, sir. You—"
"Unfortunately he was not aware of the fact that you and Anne were
engaged. You forget that the engagement was to be kept under cover for the
time being. But all this is beside the question. Mrs. Tresslyn had looked
the field over pretty carefully. No one appeared to be so well qualified
to take your place as Percy Wintermill. He had everything that is
desirable in a husband except good looks and perhaps good manners. So she
began fishing for Percy. Anne was a delightful bait. Of course, Percy's
robust health was objectionable, but it wasn't insurmountable. I could see
that Anne loathed the thought of having him for a husband for thirty or
forty years. Anybody could see that,—even Percy must have possessed
intelligence enough to see it for himself. Finally, about six weeks ago,
Anne rose above her environment. She allowed Percy to propose, asked for a
few days in which to make up her mind, and then came out with a point-
blank refusal. She defied her mother, openly declaring that she would
marry you in spite of everything."
"And that is just what she shall do, poor girl," cried Braden joyously.
"She shall not be driven into—"
"Just a moment, please. When I discovered that young Wintermill couldn't
be depended upon to rescue his best friend, I stepped into the arena, so
to speak," said Mr. Thorpe with fine irony. "I sensed the situation
perfectly. Percy was young and strong and enduring. He would be a long
time dying in the natural order of things. What Anne was looking for—now,
keep your seat, my boy!—what she wanted was a husband who could be
depended upon to leave her a widow before it was too late. Now, I am
seventy-seven, and failing pretty rapidly. It occurred to me that I would
be just the thing for her. To make the story short, I began to dilate upon
my great loneliness, and also hinted that if I could find the right sort
of companion I would jump at the chance to get married. That's putting it
rather coarsely, my boy, but the whole business is so ugly that it doesn't
seem worth while to affect delicacy. Inside of two weeks, we had come to
an understanding,—that is, an arrangement had been perfected. I think that
everything was agreed upon except the actual day of my demise. As you
know, I am to set aside for Anne as an ante-nuptial substitute for all
dower rights in my estate, the sum of two million dollars. I may add that
the securities guaranteeing this amount have been submitted to Mrs.
Tresslyn and she has found them to be gilt-edged. These securities are to
be held in trust for her until the day I die, when they go to her at once,
according to our contract. She agrees to—"
"By gad, sir, it is infamous! Absolutely infamous!" exclaimed young
Thorpe, springing to his feet. "I cannot—I will not believe it of her."
"She agrees to relinquish all claims to my estate," concluded the old man,
with a chuckle. "Inasmuch as I have made it quite clear that all of my
money is to go to charity,—scientific charity,—I imagine that the
Tresslyns feel that they have made a pretty good bargain."
"I still maintain that she will renounce the whole detestable—"
"She would go back on her contract like a shot if she thought that I
intended to include you among my scientific charities," interrupted the
old man.
"Oh, if I could only have an hour—half an hour with her," groaned Braden.
"I could overcome the vile teaching of her mother and bring her to a
realisation of what is ahead of her. I—"
"Do you honestly,—in your heart, Braden,—believe that you could do that?"
demanded Mr. Thorpe, arising from his chair and laying his hand upon the
young man's shoulder. He forced the other's eyes to meet his. "Do you
believe that she would be worthy of your love and respect even though she
did back out of this arrangement? I want an honest answer."
"God help me, I—I don't know what to think," cried Braden miserably. "I am
shocked, bewildered. I can't say what I believe, grandfather. I only know
that I have loved her better than my own soul. I don't know what to think
now."
"You might also say that she loves herself better than she loves her own
soul," said the old man grimly. "She will go on loving you, I've no doubt,
in a strictly physical way, but I wouldn't put much dependence in her
soulfulness. One of these fine days, she will come to you and say that she
has earned two million dollars, and she will ask you if it is too late to
start all over again. What will you say to that?"
"Good Lord, sir, what would you expect me to say?" exploded Braden. "I
should tell her to—to go to hell!" he grated between his teeth.
"Meanwhile, I want you to understand that I have acted for your best
interests, Braden. God knows I am not in love with this girl. I know her
kind, I know her breed. I want to save you from—well, I want to give you a
fighting chance to be a great, good man. You need the love of a fine,
unselfish woman to help you to the heights you aspire to reach. Anne
Tresslyn would not have helped you. She cannot see above her own level.
There are no heights for her. She belongs to the class that never looks up
from the ground. They are always following the easiest path. I am doing
you a good turn. Somewhere in this world there is a noble, self-
sacrificing woman who will make you happy, who will give strength to you,
who will love you for yourself and not for _herself_. Go out and find her,
my boy. You will recognise her the instant you see her."
"But you—what of you?" asked Braden, deeply impressed by the old man's
unsuspected sentiment. "Will you go ahead and—and marry her, knowing that
she will make your last few years of life unhappy, un—"
"I am under contract," said Templeton Thorpe grimly. "I never go back on a
contract."
"I shall see her, nevertheless," said Braden doggedly.
"It is my desire that you should. In fact, I shall make it my business to
see that you do. After that, I fancy you will not care to remain here for
the wedding. I should advise you to return to London as soon as you have
had it out with her."
"I shall remain here until the very hour of the wedding if it is to take
place, and up to that very hour I shall do my best to prevent it,
grandfather."
"Your failure to do so will make me the happiest man in New York," said
Mr. Thorpe, emotion in his voice, "for I love you dearly, Braden."