Fairfax, stirred as he had been to the depths by his visit to New York,
awake again to the voices of his visions, could give but little of
himself to his home life or to his work. The greatest proof of his
kindly heart was that he did not let Molly see his irritation or his
agony of discontent. If he were only nothing but an engineer with an
Irish wife! Why, why, was he otherwise? In his useless rebellion the
visions came and told him why--told him that to be born as he was,
gifted as he was, was the most glorious thing and the most suffering
thing in the world.
To the agent who had accepted the Fairfax hospitality and come to
supper, Tony said--
"To ease my soul, Peter, I want to tell you of something I did."
Molly had washed the dishes and put them away, and, with a delicate
appreciation of her husband's wish to be alone with his friend, went
into the next room.
"After mother died my old nigger mammy in New Orleans sent me a packet
of little things. I could never open the parcel until the other day.
Amongst the treasures was a diamond ring, Rainsford, one I had seen her
wear when I was a little boy. I took it to a jeweller on Market Street,
and he told me it was worth a thousand dollars."
Here Tony remained silent so long that his companion said--
"That's a lot of money, Tony."
"Well, it came to me," said the young man simply, "like a gift from her.
I asked them to lend me five hundred dollars on it for a year. It seems
that it's a peculiarly fine stone, and they didn't hesitate."
Rainsford was smoking a peaceful pipe, and he held the bowl
affectionately in his hand, his attention fixed on the blond young man
sitting in the full light of the evening. The night was warm, Fairfax
was in snowy shirt-sleeves, his bright hair cropped close revealed the
beautiful lines of his head; he was a powerful man, clean in habits of
body and mind, and his expression as he talked was brilliant and
fascinating, his eyes profound and blue. Around his knees he clasped the
hands that drove an engine and ached to model in plaster and clay. His
big shoe was a deformity, otherwise he was superb.
"I've taken a studio, Rainsford," he smiled. "Tito Falutini found it for
me. It is a shed next to the lime-kiln in Canal Street. I've got my
material and I'm going to begin my work for the California competition."
The older, to whom enthusiasm was as past a joy as success was a dim
possibility, said thoughtfully--
"When will you work?"
"Sundays, half-holidays and nights. God!" he exclaimed in anticipation,
holding out his strong arms, "it seems too good to be true!"
And Rainsford said, "I think I can contrive to get Saturdays off for
you. The Commodore is coming up next week. He owes me a favour or two. I
think I can make it for _you_, old man."
There was a little stir in the next room. Fairfax called "Molly!" and
she came in. She might have been a lady. Long association with Fairfax
and her love had taught her wonders. Her hair was carefully arranged and
brushed until it shone like glass. Her dress was simple and refined; her
face had the beauty on it that a great and unselfish love sheds.
"It means," said Rainsford to himself as he rose and placed a chair for
her, "that Molly will be left entirely alone."