"I'm to blame for that," said Mrs. Lapham. "I forced you to it."
"No; I was as willing to go into it as what you were," answered Lapham.
"I don't want to blame anybody."
Mrs. Lapham had a woman's passion for fixing responsibility; she could
not help saying, as soon as acquitted, "I warned you against him,
Silas. I told you not to let him get in any deeper with you."
"Oh yes. I had to help him to try to get my money back. I might as
well poured water into a sieve. And now--" Lapham stopped.
"Don't be afraid to speak out to me, Silas Lapham. If it comes to the
worst, I want to know it--I've got to know it. What did I ever care
for the money? I've had a happy home with you ever since we were
married, and I guess I shall have as long as you live, whether we go on
to the Back Bay, or go back to the old house at Lapham. I know who's
to blame, and I blame myself. It was my forcing Rogers on to you." She
came back to this with her helpless longing, inbred in all Puritan
souls, to have some one specifically suffer for the evil in the world,
even if it must be herself.
"It hasn't come to the worst yet, Persis," said her husband. "But I
shall have to hold up on the new house a little while, till I can see
where I am."
"I shouldn't care if we had to sell it," cried his wife, in passionate
self-condemnation. "I should be GLAD if we had to, as far as I'm
concerned."
"I shouldn't," said Lapham.
"I know!" said his wife; and she remembered ruefully how his heart was
set on it.
He sat musing. "Well, I guess it's going to come out all right in the
end. Or, if it ain't," he sighed, "we can't help it. May be Pen
needn't worry so much about Corey, after all," he continued, with a
bitter irony new to him. "It's an ill wind that blows nobody good.
And there's a chance," he ended, with a still bitterer laugh, "that
Rogers will come to time, after all."
"I don't believe it!" exclaimed Mrs. Lapham, with a gleam of hope in
her eyes. "What chance?"
"One in ten million," said Lapham; and her face fell again. "He says
there are some English parties after him to buy these mills."
"Well?"
"Well, I gave him twenty-four hours to prove himself a liar."
"You don't believe there are any such parties?"
"Not in THIS world."
"But if there were?"
"Well, if there were, Persis----But pshaw!"
"No, no!" she pleaded eagerly. "It don't seem as if he COULD be such a
villain. What would be the use of his pretending? If he brought the
parties to you."
"Well," said Lapham scornfully, "I'd let them have the mills at the
price Rogers turned 'em in on me at. I don't want to make anything on
'em. But guess I shall hear from the G. L. & P. first. And when they
make their offer, I guess I'll have to accept it, whatever it is. I
don't think they'll have a great many competitors."
Mrs. Lapham could not give up her hope. "If you could get your price
from those English parties before they knew that the G. L. & P. wanted
to buy the mills, would it let you out with Rogers?"
"Just about," said Lapham.
"Then I know he'll move heaven and earth to bring it about. I KNOW you
won't be allowed to suffer for doing him a kindness, Silas. He CAN'T
be so ungrateful! Why, why SHOULD he pretend to have any such parties
in view when he hasn't? Don't you be down-hearted, Si. You'll see that
he'll be round with them to-morrow."
Lapham laughed, but she urged so many reasons for her belief in Rogers
that Lapham began to rekindle his own faith a little. He ended by
asking for a hot cup of tea; and Mrs. Lapham sent the pot out and had a
fresh one steeped for him. After that he made a hearty supper in the
revulsion from his entire despair; and they fell asleep that night
talking hopefully of his affairs, which he laid before her fully, as he
used to do when he first started in business. That brought the old
times back, and he said: "If this had happened then, I shouldn't have
cared much. I was young then, and I wasn't afraid of anything. But I
noticed that after I passed fifty I began to get scared easier. I
don't believe I could pick up, now, from a regular knock-down."
"Pshaw! YOU scared, Silas Lapham?" cried his wife proudly. "I should
like to see the thing that ever scared you; or the knockdown that YOU
couldn't pick up from!"
"Is that so, Persis?" he asked, with the joy her courage gave him.
In the middle of the night she called to him, in a voice which the
darkness rendered still more deeply troubled: "Are you awake, Silas?"
"Yes; I'm awake."
"I've been thinking about those English parties, Si----"
"So've I."
"And I can't make it out but what you'd be just as bad as Rogers, every
bit and grain, if you were to let them have the mills----"
"And not tell 'em what the chances were with the G. L. & P.? I thought
of that, and you needn't be afraid."
She began to bewail herself, and to sob convulsively: "O Silas! O
Silas!" Heaven knows in what measure the passion of her soul was mired
with pride in her husband's honesty, relief from an apprehended
struggle, and pity for him.
"Hush, hush, Persis!" he besought her. "You'll wake Pen if you keep on
that way. Don't cry any more! You mustn't."
"Oh, let me cry, Silas! It'll help me. I shall be all right in a
minute. Don't you mind." She sobbed herself quiet. "It does seem too
hard," she said, when she could speak again, "that you have to give up
this chance when Providence had fairly raised it up for you."
"I guess it wa'n't Providence raised it up," said Lapham. "Any rate,
it's got to go. Most likely Rogers was lyin', and there ain't any such
parties; but if there were, they couldn't have the mills from me
without the whole story. Don't you be troubled, Persis. I'm going to
pull through all right." "Oh, I ain't afraid. I don't suppose but what
there's plenty would help you, if they knew you needed it, Si."
"They would if they knew I DIDN'T need it," said Lapham sardonically.
"Did you tell Bill how you stood?"
"No, I couldn't bear to. I've been the rich one so long, that I
couldn't bring myself to own up that I was in danger."
"Yes."
"Besides, it didn't look so ugly till to-day. But I guess we shan't let
ugly looks scare us."
"No."