NEIGHBORS
Promptly the following evening Roger appeared, and with glowing
cheeks told his friends that Mr. Wentworth had found him employment
in a lawyer's office, which would enable him to pay his way and
at the same time give him much practical insight into his chosen
profession. Mildred looked at him wistfully, but her resolution
was not shaken, and they went out together, Roger saying, with a
smiling nod at Belle, "It will be your turn to-morrow evening."
"Roger," said Mildred, "I've much to say to you, and it is of great
importance that you should listen calmly and sensibly."
"All right," he answered laughingly. "You will find me as quiet
and impressible as the oysters over which we'll have our talk, but
only on this condition. You shall not fatigue yourself by a word
here in the street." Nevertheless she felt the phlegmatic creature's
arm trembling under her hand. After a moment he went on, in the
same light way, "I want you to understand I am not going to be a
friend in name merely; I intend to assert my rights, and you had
better learn from the start that I am the most tremendously obstinate
fellow in the city."
"But you must listen to reason."
"Certainly; so must you."
"To begin with," she resumed, "I've had my supper, and so don't
need any more."
"I haven't had mine, and am ravenous. The idea of talking reason
to a hungry man! I know of a nice quiet restaurant which, at this
hour, we'll have almost to ourselves. You surely won't be so unsocial
as to let me eat alone."
"Well, if I yield in trifles you must yield in matters that are
vital. Why did you not get your supper before?"
"Too busy; and then, to be honest, I knew I'd enjoy it a hundredfold
more with you. I'm a social animal."
Mildred sighed, for this good-comradeship was making her duty very
hard.
They soon reached the place in question, and Roger ordered enough
for four.
"You don't realize what you are doing in any respect," said Mildred
in smiling reproof.
"Wait half an hour before you settle that question," he replied
with a confident nod. "I'll soon prove to you what an unsentimental
being I am."
"Oh," thought Mildred, "how can I give up his friendship when he
acts in this way? And yet I must. He must be shown just how he is
wronging himself." When the waiter had departed she looked straight
into his eyes with one of her steadfast glances, and said earnestly,
"Roger, I appreciate your generous kindness far more than any words
can tell you, but the time has come for me to act resolutely and
finally. Sad experience has taught me more within a year than most
women learn in a lifetime. Mrs. Wheaton, who often works for your
aunt, has told us of the sacrifice you have made in our behalf,
and we cannot permit it. If not in years, I'm much older than you
in other respects, and you don't realize--"
Roger interrupted her by leaning back in his chair and breaking
out into an irrepressible laugh. "So you are going to interfere in
behalf of the small boy's interests? My venerable friend, permit
me to remind you that I am six feet high in my stockings, and have
lately reached the mature age of twenty-one."
"Roger," replied Mildred, with a pained look on her face, "I'm
in earnest, and I've lain awake nearly all of two nights thinking
about it."
"Millie, your oysters are getting cold. You don't know anything
about boys, much less about men. Don't you know I'll be much more
amiable after supper? It's the nature of the male animal, and what's
the use of going against nature?"
"Oh, Roger, listen to me. I'm desperately in earnest. To let you
sacrifice such prospects as Mrs. Wheaton said your uncle held out
to you for our sakes oppresses me with guilt. I can't eat anything--you
don't realize--"
"Millie Jocelyn," said Roger, his face becoming grave and gentle,
"I know what you are driving at. You might as well try to stop Spring
from coming on. I'm going to be your honest, faithful friend, so
help me God! Even if you left me now and refused to speak to me
again, I'd watch over you and yours in every way I could. It's my
good destiny, and I thank God for it, for I feel it's making a man
of me. I won't deceive you in one iota, and I admit to my shame
that my worldly old uncle tempted me that night, especially after
I saw from your face just how you felt. Even then my hope was that
I could do more for you by yielding to his views than if I stood
out against them, but a little thought convinced me that you
would starve rather than take aid from one who would not give open
friendship and companionship, and you would be right. Oh, I exult
in your pride, and respect you for it. You are my ideal woman,
Millie, and if my uncle had owned this island, and had offered it
all to me, I'd have made a wretched bargain in giving up for it
the privilege of being here this evening, with the right to look
you straight in the eyes without shame. If I had yielded to him
then, as the devil tempted me to, I'd never have known another day
of self-respect or happiness. I'm building now on the rock of honor
and manhood, and you can't say anything that will change my purpose.
I know what I am about if I am only a 'boy'; and Mr. Wentworth,
who has been told all, approves of my course. So eat your oysters,
Millie, and submit to the inevitable."
"Oh, Roger, Roger, what shall I say to you?"
"Look here, Millie; if you were in my place, would you desert a
brave, true girl in misfortune? No; unlike me, you would never have
hesitated a moment."
"But, Roger, as you say you--you--saw in my face a truth that
absolved you--"
"What I saw in your face," he said gravely, "is my misfortune.
It is not anything for which you are to blame in the least. And,
Millie, I'd rather have your friendship than any other woman's love.
I'm choosing my own course with my eyes open, and, thank God, I've
chosen rightly. I'd have been the most miserable fellow in the whole
city if I had chosen otherwise. Now I'm happy. It's all right. I've
vowed to be a brother to Belle, and to do all in my power for your
sweet, gentle mother. I've vowed to be your true friend in all
respects, and if you protested till Doomsday it wouldn't make any
difference. I've written to my mother, and I know her well enough
to be sure that she will approve of my course. So will my father
by and by. He isn't bad at heart, but, like uncle, a dollar is so
large in his eyes that it hides the sun. Be that as it may, I'm
just as much of an Atwood as he is, and can be just as obstinate
in doing what I know to be right as he can be in requiring a course
that would spoil my life. Millie, there never was a soldier, in
all the past, braver than you have shown yourself to be, and you
are a delicate girl that I could carry like a child. Do you advise
a young, strong-handed fellow to play the coward, and desert the
women I love and honor in their sore need and danger? You have
looked on only one side of this question, and you must not think
so meanly of me as to even suggest anything of the kind again."
"Roger, Roger, can you realize what you are saying?" Mildred
faltered, a slow, painful flush crimsoning her face. "How can you
honor those who are so disgraced? You don't know what papa has
become. The world will share your uncle's views concerning us."
"I do know all about your father, Millie, and I pity him from the
depths of my soul. He is the dark background which brings out your
absolute truth and purity. I do honor you and Mrs. Jocelyn as I
honor my own mother, and I intend to prove myself worthy of your
respect at least, for its loss would be fatal to me. I even honor
your rare fidelity, though it stands so awfully in my way. Now,
surely, we understand each other. But, come, this is far too serious
talk for a restaurant and the supper-table. I am now going to give
my whole soul to oysters, and I adjure you by our bonds to do the
same. Here's to our friendship, Millie, and may I be choked the
moment I'm false to it!" and he drained a generous cup of coffee.
"You won't listen to me, then," she said, with a face wherein
perplexity, relief, and gratitude were blended.
"I won't listen to a word that will make me the most miserable
wretch in the world, and you won't get rid of me as long as I live.
So, there, you might as well submit to fate and eat your oysters."
Her expression became very grave and resolute. "Roger," she said
slowly, "I did not know there was so kind and true a man in the
world. I will do anything that you can ask."
His eyes suddenly became infinitely wistful and tender, and then
he gave himself a little characteristic shake as he said, rather
brusquely, "I accept that promise, and shall at once tax it to the
utmost with the request that you eat a jolly good supper and call
on me every time I can aid you."
Her glance in response warmed his soul, and then she gave herself
up to social friendliness in a way which proved that a great
burden had been taken from her heart. On their way home, however,
she hinted her fears in regard to Belle, and Roger understood her
thoroughly. For the next few days he watched the young girl, and soon
satisfied himself as to the character of the man who was pursuing
her. His object now was to obtain some ground for brotherly
interference, and one Saturday evening, while following Belle home,
he saw a young man join her and receive an undoubted welcome. He
soon became aware that matters were progressing fast and far, for
the young people wandered off into unfrequented streets, and once,
where the shadows were deepest, he saw Belle's attendant steal
his arm about her waist and kiss her. Belle's protest was not very
vigorous, and when at last they parted in the passageway that led
to Belle's home the kiss was repeated and not resented at all.
Roger followed the young man, and said, "You have just parted from
Miss Belle Jocelyn."
"Well, that's my affair."
"You will find yourself so greatly mistaken that you had better
answer my questions honestly. What are your intentions toward her?
I have the right to ask."
"None of your business."
"Look here, young man, she has acknowledged me as her brother,
and as a brother I feel toward her. I've only a few plain words to
say. If your intentions are honorable I'll not interfere, although
I know all about you, and you are not my style of man by any means.
If your intentions are not honorable, and you do not cease your
attentions, I'll break every bone in your body--I swear it by the
God who made me."
"Go to the devil!" muttered the fellow.
"No, sir, nor shall I permit you to take one dear to me to the devil,
but I pledge my word to send you straight to him if you harm Belle
Jocelyn. Here, stop and look me in the eyes under this lamp. You
kissed her twice to-night. Do you intend to make her your wife?"
There was no answer, but the sullen, half-frightened face was an
unmistakable response. "I understand you now," said Roger savagely,
taking the fellow by the throat, "and I'll send you swiftly to
perdition if you don't promise to let that girl alone," and his
gleaming eyes and iron grasp awed the incipient roue so completely
that he quavered out:
"Oh, let go. If you feel the girl is your property, I'll let her
alone."
Roger gave him a wrathful push which precipitated his limp form
into the gutter, and growled as he walked of, "If you value your
life, keep your promise."
An evening or two later Roger said to Belle, whom he had taken out
for a stroll, "I kept my word--I cowhided that fellow Bissel, who
played such a dastardly part toward your sister. Of course I did
not want to get myself into trouble, or give him any power over
me, so I found out his haunts and followed him. One night, as he
was returning rather late from a drinking saloon, I spoiled his good
looks with a dozen savage cuts. He was too confused to see who it
was in the dark, and to mislead him more thoroughly I said, with
the last blow, 'Take that for lying and causing a poor girl to
be sent to prison.' He thinks, no doubt, that some friend of the
thief was the one who punished him. What's more, he won't forget
the lashing I gave him till his dying day, and if I mistake not
his smooth face will long bear my marks."
Belle gave but a languid approval, for she had missed her lover for
the last two evenings. "Belle," he continued, gravely but gently,
"I was tempted to choke the life out of a fellow the other night,
and it was the life of one who kissed you twice."
She dropped her hand from his arm, but he replaced it and held it
tightly as he resumed, "I'm no make-believe brother, you know. I'm
just such a brother as I would be if I had been born with you on
a Southern plantation. Though the young man was not to my mind, I
told him that if his intentions were honorable I would not interfere,
but I soon learned that he was an out-and-out scoundrel, and I said
words to him that will make him shun you as he would death. Belle,
I would kill him as I used to club rattlesnakes in the country, if
he harmed a hair of your head, and he knows it."
"You misjudge him utterly," cried Belle in a passion, "and you
have just driven away the one friend that I had in all the world.
I won't stand it. I'm not a baby, and I won't be treated like one."
Roger let her storm on without a word, but at last, when she
concluded, "I've no father worthy of the name, and so I'll take
care of myself," he asked quietly:
"How about your mother, Belle?"
In strong revulsion the impulsive girl gave way to an equally
passionate outburst of grief. "Oh," she cried, "I wish I were dead!"
"Belle," said Roger, very gently now, "if you listened to that
fellow you would soon make that wish in earnest. Now in your heart
you don't mean it at all. You don't love such a man, and you know
it. Why should you throw your young, beautiful life into the gutter?
It is a mere reckless protest against your unhappy life. Belle,
you are not seventeen, and you may live till you are seventy if
you take care of yourself. Think of the changes for the better that
may come in that time. They shall come, too. I shall share with you
all my fortunes, and you have told me many a time that I was sure
to succeed. I pledge you my word that before many years you shall
have good honest men at your feet," and he reasoned with her so
sensibly, and petted and soothed her so kindly, that at last she
clung to his arm as if it were a defence indeed, and said, with
tearful eyes, "You ARE a brother in the best sense of the word, and
I wonder you have patience with such a reckless, passionate fool
as I am. I'm not fit for you to speak to."
"No, Belle, you are not bad at heart--far from it. You are half
desperate from your present misfortunes, and in your blind impulse
to escape you would make matters infinitely worse. Be patient,
dear. It's a long lane that has no turning. To one so young as you
are life promises very much, if it is not spoiled at the beginning,
and Mr. Wentworth would tell us that there is a heaven beyond it
all."
The influence of this interview did not speedily pass from her
mind, and by her gentler and more patient bearing Mildred was taught
again how much she owed to one whom she had so long repelled.
Mr. Wentworth succeeded in interesting the lady to whom he had
referred in Mildred, and a visit from the young girl confirmed her
good impressions. As a result, sufficient work was found or made
to give Mildred steady employment. Mr. Jocelyn was comparatively
quiet and much at home. Often he was excessively irritable and
exasperating in words and manner, but no longer violent from bestial
excess. He put off the project of going to a curative institution,
with the true opium inertia and procrastination, and all efforts
to lead him to definite action proved fruitless. His presence,
however, and his quiet, haughty ways, with Roger's frequent visits,
did much for a time to restrain the ill-disposed people around them,
but the inevitable contact with so much depravity and coarseness
was almost unendurable.
Now that Mildred no longer went out to her work, she taxed her
ingenuity to the utmost to amuse Fred and Minnie, that she might
keep them from the horrible associations beyond their door, but
her father's irritability often rendered it impossible for them to
remain in the room, and, childlike, they would assimilate somewhat
with the little heathen among whom their lot was now cast.
Poor Mrs. Jocelyn was sinking under her sorrows. She did not complain:
she blamed herself with a growing morbidness for the ruin of her
husband and the hard lot of her children, and hope deferred was
making her heart sick indeed. Her refined, gentle nature recoiled
with an indescribable repugnance from her surroundings, and one
day she received a shock from which she never fully recovered.
Her husband was out, and Mildred had gone to deliver some work.
The children, whom she tried to keep with her, broke away at last
and left the door open. Before she could close it a drunken woman
stumbled in, and, sinking into a chair, she let a bundle slip from
her hands. It fell on the floor, unrolled, and a dead infant lay
before Mrs. Jocelyn's horrified gaze. Her cries for help brought a
stout, red-faced woman from across the hallway, and she seemed to
understand what was such a fearful mystery to Mrs. Jocelyn, for
she took the unwelcome intruder by the shoulder and tried to get
her to go out hastily, but the inebriated wretch was beyond shame,
fear, or prudence. Pulling out of her pocket a roll of bills, she
exclaimed, in hideous exultation:
"Faix, I'oive had a big day's work. Trhree swell families on the
Avenue guv me all this to burry the brat. Burry it? Divil a bit.
It's makin' me fortin'. Cud we ony git dead babbies enough we'd
all be rich, Bridget, but here's enough to kape the pot bilin' for
wakes to come, and guv us a good sup o' whiskey into the bargain.
Here, take a drap," she said, pulling out a black bottle and holding
it up to Mrs. Jocelyn. "What yer glowrin' so ghostlike for? Ah, let
me alone, ye ould hag," she said angrily to the red-faced woman,
who seemed in great trepidation, and tried to put her hand over
the drunken creature's mouth. "Who's afeard? Money'll buy judge
and jury, an' if this woman peaches on us I'll bate her brains out
wid the dead babby."
Finding that words were of no avail, and that she could not move
the great inert mass under which Mrs. Jocelyn's chair was creaking,
the neighbor from across the way snatched the money and retreated
to her room. This stratagem had the desired effect, for the woman
was not so intoxicated as to lose her greed, and she followed as
hastily as her unsteady steps permitted. A moment later the red-faced
woman dashed in, seized the dead child and its wrappings, and then
shaking her huge fist in Mrs. Jocelyn's face, said, "If yees ever
spakes of what yer've sane, I'll be the death of ye--by the V'argin
I will; so mum's the word, or it'll be worse for ye."
When Mildred returned she found her mother nervously prostrated.
"I've had a bad turn," was her only explanation. Her broken spirit
was terrified by her awful neighbors, and not for the world would
she add another feather's weight to the burdens under which her
family faltered by involving them in a prosecution of the vile
impostor who had sickened her with the exposure of a horrible
trade. [Footnote: This character is not an imaginary one, and, on
ample authority, I was told of an instance where the large sum of
fifty dollars was obtained from some kindly family by this detestable
method of imposition.]
"Mamma," cried Mildred, in sharp distress, "we must leave this
place. It's killing you."
"I wish we could leave it, dear," sighed the poor woman. "I think
I'd be better anywhere else."
"We shall leave it," said the girl resolutely. "Let the rent go.
I had already about decided upon it, and now I'll go with Mrs.
Wheaton to-morrow and find rooms among more respectable people."
The events of the evening confirmed her purpose, for the young roughs
that rendezvoused nightly at the entrance of the long passageway
determined that they would no longer submit to the "uppish airs"
of the sisters, but "tache 'em" that since they lived in the same
house they were no better than their neighbors. Therefore, as
Belle boldly brushed by them as usual on her return from the shop,
one young fellow, with a wink to his comrades, followed her, and
where the passage was darkest put his arm around her waist and
pressed upon her cheek a resounding kiss. In response there came
from the entrance a roar of jeering laughter. But the young ruffian
found instantly to his sorrow that he had aroused a tigress. Belle
was strong and furious from the insult, and her plump hand came
down on the fellow's nose with a force that caused the blood to
flow copiously. After the quick impulse of anger and self-defence
passed she ran sobbing like a child to Mildred, and declared she
would not stay another day in the vile den. Mildred was white with
anger, and paced the room excitedly for a few moments.
"Oh, God, that we had a father!" she gasped. "There, Belle, let us
be patient," she continued after a few moments; "we can't contend
with such wretches. I promise you that this shall be your last day
in this place. We ought to have left before."
Then, as the girls grew calmer, they resolved not to tell either
their father or Roger, fearing that they might become embroiled in
a dangerous and disgraceful quarrel involving their presence in a
police court. Mildred had given her mother a sedative to quiet her
trembling nerves, and she was sleeping in one of the bedrooms, and
so happily was not aware of Belle's encounter.
Mr. Jocelyn soon came in, and, for the first time since Mildred's
warning, was a little the worse for liquor, but he had the
self-control to keep quiet, and after a few mouthfuls of supper
went to his room overcome by the stupor he had sought. After the
children were sleeping the girls gladly welcomed Roger, for he had
become the chief source of light and hope in their saddened lives.
And he did brighten and cheer them wonderfully, for, content with
a long and prosperous day's work, and full of the hopefulness and
courage of youth, he imparted hope and fortitude to them in spite
of all that was so depressing.
"Come, girls," he said at last, "you need some oxygen. The air is
close and stifling in this den of a house, and outside the evening
is clear and bracing. Let's have a stroll."
"We can't go far," said Mildred, "for mamma is sleeping, and I
would not have her wake and be frightened for anything."
"Well, we'll only go around a block or two. You'll feel the
stronger for it, and be in a better condition to move to-morrow,"
for Mildred had told him of her purpose, and he had promised to
help them get settled on the following evening. When they reached
the end of the dark passage-way they feared that trouble was brewing,
for a score of dark, coarse faces lowered at them, and the fellow
that Belle had punished glared at her above his bandaged face.
Paying no heed to them, however, they took a brief, quick walk,
and returned to find the entrance blocked by an increasing number
of dangerous-looking young ruffians.
"Stand aside," said Roger sternly.
A big fellow knocked off his hat in response, and received instantly
a blow in the eye which would have felled him had he not been
sustained by the crowd, who now closed on the young man.
"Run up the street and call for police," he said to the girls, but
they were snatched back and held by some of the gang, and hands
placed over their mouths, yet not before they had uttered two
piercing cries.
Roger, after a brief, desperate struggle, got his back to the
wall and struck blows that were like those of a sledge-hammer. He
was dealing, however, with some fairly trained pugilists, and was
suffering severely, when a policeman rushed in, clubbing right
and left. The gang dispersed instantly, but two were captured. The
girls, half fainting from excitement and terror, were conducted
to their room by Roger, and then they applied palliatives to the
wounds of their knight, with a solicitude and affection which made
the bruises welcome indeed to the young fellow. They were in terror
at the idea of his departure, for the building was like a seething
caldron. He reassured them by promising to remain until all was
quiet, and the police also informed them that the house would be
under surveillance until morning.
On the following day, with Mrs. Wheaton's aid, they found rooms
elsewhere, and Roger, after appearing as witness against the rowdies
that had been captured, and informing his employers of what had
occurred, gave the remaining hours to the efficient aid of his
friends.