Accompanied by Imogene, Dolly hastened over to Cedar Lodge in the
morning. Alice met them in the hall. "My dear," cried Dolly, folding
her impulsively in her arms, "you are charged with fate!"
Then she drew back, laid her hands on Alice's shoulders and, bringing
her face tenderly forward, kissed her. "How can I blame Robert for
falling in love with you? And yet!" She turned to Imogene. "If we had
been told that first night that _this_ was the woman of our destiny!
How do you bear your new honors, dearie? What! Tears! Nonsense, my
child. You are freighted with the Kimberly hopes now. You are one of
us. Tears are at an end. I, too, cried when I first knew of it. Come,
sit down. Imogene will tell you everything." And having announced this
much, Dolly proceeded with the telling herself.
"When you first knew of it?" echoed Alice. "Pray, when was that?"
"Oh, long, long ago--before ever you did, my dear. But no matter now.
We talked last night, Arthur, Charles, Imogene, and Robert and I until
midnight. And this is what we said: 'The dignity of your personal
position is, before everything else, to be rigidly maintained.' Mr.
MacBirney will be required to do this. He will be counselled on this
point--made to understand that the obligation to maintain the dignity of
his wife's position is primary. Robert, of course, objected to this.
He was for allowing no one but himself to do anything----"
"I hope you clearly understand, Dolly, I should allow Mr. Kimberly to do
nothing whatever at this juncture," interposed Alice quickly.
"I understand perfectly, dear. But there are others of us, you know,
friends of your own dear mother, remember. Only, aside from all of
that, we considered that the situation admitted of but one arrangement.
Charles will tell Nelson exactly what MacBirney is to do, and Nelson
will see that it is done. The proper bankers will advise you of your
credits from your husband, for the present--and they are to be very
generous ones, my dear," added Dolly significantly. "So all that is
taken care of and Mr. MacBirney will further be counselled not to come
near Cedar Lodge or Second Lake until further orders. Do you
understand?"
"Why, yes, Dolly," assented Alice perplexed, "but Mr. MacBirney's
acquiescence in all this is very necessary it seems to me. And he may
agree to none of it."
"My dear, it isn't at all a question of _his_ agreeing. He will do as
he is advised to do. Do you imagine he can afford breaking with the
Kimberlys? A man that pursues money, dear heart, is no longer a free
agent. His interests confront him at every turn. Fledgling
millionaires are in no way new to us. Mercy, they pass in and out of
our lives every day! A millionaire, dear, is nothing but a million
meannesses and they all do exactly as they are told. Really, I am sorry
for some of them. Of all unfortunates they are nowadays the worst.
They are simply ground to powder between the multi-millionaires and the
laboring classes. In this case, happily, it is only a matter of making
one do what he ought to do, so give it no thought."
Dolly proved a good prophet concerning MacBirney's course in the
circumstances. MacBirney, desirous of playing at once to the lake
public in the affair of his domestic difficulties, made unexceptional
allowances for his wife's maintenance. Yet at every dollar that came to
her from his abundance she felt humiliated. She knew now why she had
endured so much at his hands for so long; it was because she had
realized her utter dependence on him and that her dreams of self-support
were likely, if she had ever acted on them, to end in very bitter
realities.
At the first sign of hot weather, Charles and Imogene put to sea with a
party for a coasting cruise; Dolly sailed for the continent to bring
Grace back with her. Robert Kimberly unwilling to leave for any
extended period would not let Alice desert him; accordingly, Fritzie was
sent for and came over to stay with her. The lake country made a
delightful roaming place and Alice was shown by Kimberly's confidences
how close she was to him.
He confided to her the journal of the day, whatever it might be.
Nothing was held back. His successes, failures, and worries all came to
her at night. He often asked her for advice upon his affairs and her
wonder grew as the inwardness of the monetary world in which he moved
stood revealed to her. She spoke of it one day.
"To be sought after as you are--to have so many men running out here to
find you; to be consulted by so many----"
Kimberly interrupted her. "Do you know why they seek me? Because I
make money for them, Alice. They would run after anybody that could
make them money. But they are wolves and if I lost for them they would
try to tear me to pieces. No man is so alone as the man the public
follows for a day even while it hates or fears him. And the man the
bankers like is the man that can make money for them; their friendship
is as cold and thin as autumn ice."
"But even then, to have the ability for making money and doing
magnificent things; to be able to succeed where so many men fail--it
seems so wonderful to me."
"Don't cherish any illusions about it. Everyone that makes money must
be guilty of a thousand cold-blooded things, a thousand sharp turns, a
thousand cruelties; it's a game of cruelties. Fortunately, I'm not a
brilliant success in that line, anyway; people merely think I am. The
ideal money-maker always is and always will be a man without a temper,
without a heart, and with an infusion, in our day, of hypocrisy. He
takes refuge in hypocrisy because the public hates him and he is forced
to do it to keep from hating himself. When public opinion gets too
strong for him he plays to it. When it isn't too strong, he plays to
himself. I can't do that; I have too much vanity to play to anybody.
And the recollection of a single defeat rankles above the memory of a
thousand victories. This is all wrong--far, far from the ideal of money
getting; in fact, I'm not a professional in the game at all--merely an
amateur. A very successful man should never be trusted anyway."
"Why not?"
"Because success comes first with him. It comes before friendship and
he will sacrifice you to success without a pang."
She looked at him with laughing interest. "What is it?" he asked
changing his tone.
"I was thinking of how I am impressed sometimes by the most unexpected
things. You could never imagine what most put me in awe of you before I
met you."
"There must have been a severe revulsion of feeling when you did meet
me," suggested Kimberly.
"We were going up the river in your yacht and Mr. McCrea was showing us
the refineries. All that I then knew of you was what I had read in
newspapers about calculating and cold-blooded trust magnates. Mr.
McCrea was pointing out the different plants as we went along."
"The river is very pretty at the Narrows."
"First, we passed the independent houses. They kept getting bigger and
bigger until I couldn't imagine anything to overshadow them and I began
to get frightened and wonder what your refineries would be like. Then,
just as we turned at the island, Mr. McCrea pointed out a perfectly huge
cluster of buildings and said those were the Kimberly plants. Really,
they took my breath away. And in the midst of them rose that enormous
oblong chimney-stack. A soft, lazy column of smoke hovered over
it--such as hovers over Vesuvius." She smiled at the remembrance. "But
the repose and size of that chimney seemed to me like the strength of
the pyramids. When we steamed nearer I could read, near the top, the
great terra-cotta plaque: KIMBERLYS AND COMPANY. Then I thought: Oh,
what a tremendous personage Mr. Robert Kimberly must be!"
"The chimney is yours."
"Oh, no, keep it, pray--but it really did put me wondering just what you
were like."
"It must have been an inspiration that made me build that chimney. The
directors thought I would embarrass the company before we got the
foundations in. I didn't know then whom I was building it for, but I
know now; and if you got a single thrill out of it the expenditure is
justified. And I think mention of the thrill should go into the
directors' minutes on the page where they objected to the bill--we will
see about that. But you never expected at that moment to own the
chimney, did you? You shall. I will have the trustees release it from
the general mortgage and convey it to you."
"And speaking of Vesuvius, you never dreamed of a volcano lying in wait
for you beneath the lazy smoke of that chimney, did you? And that
before very long you would not alone own the chimney but would be
carrying the volcano around in your vanity bag?"