The Stillwater Tragedy

by Thomas Bailey Aldrich

  XI

  In spite of Mr. Slocum's stipulations respecting the frequency ofMargaret's visits to the studio, she was free to come and go as sheliked. It was easy for him to say, Be good friends, and nothingbeyond; but after that day in the workshop it was impossible forRichard and Margaret to be anything but lovers. The hollowness ofpretending otherwise was clear even to Mr. Slocum. In the love of afather for a daughter there is always a vague jealousy which refusesto render a coherent explanation of itself. Mr. Slocum did not escapethis, but he managed, nevertheless, to accept the inevitable withvery fair grace, and presently to confess to himself that theoccurrence which had at first taken him aback was the most natural inthe world. That Margaret and Richard, thrown together as they hadbeen, should end by falling in love with each other was not a resultto justify much surprise. Indeed, there was a special propriety intheir doing so. The Shackfords had always been reputable people inthe village,--down to Lemuel Shackford, who of course as an oldmusk-rat. The family attributes of amiability and honesty had skippedhim, but they had reappeared in Richard. It was through his foresightand personal energy that the most lucrative branch of the trade hadbeen established. His services entitled him to a future interest inthe business, and Mr. Slocum had intended he should have it. Mr.Slocum had not dreamed of throwing in Margaret also; but since thataddition had suggested itself, it seemed to him one of the happyfeatures of the arrangement. Richard would thus be doubly identifiedwith the yard, to which, in fact, he had become more necessary thanMr. Slocum himself.

  "He has more backbone with the men than I have," acknowledged Mr.Slocum. "He knows how to manage them, and I don't."

  As soft as Slocum was a Stillwater proverb. Richard certainly hadplenty of backbone; it was his only capital. In Mr. Slocum'sestimation it was sufficient capital. But Lemuel Shackford was a veryrich man, and Mr. Slocum could not avoid seeing that it would bedecent in Richard's only surviving relative if, at this juncture, hewere to display a little interest in the young fellow's welfare.

  "If he would only offer to advance a few thousand dollars forRichard," said Mr. Slocum, one evening, to Margaret, with whom he hadbeen talking over the future--"the property must all come to him sometime,--it would be a vast satisfaction to me to tell the old man thatwe can get along without any of his ill-gotten gains. He made thebulk of his fortune during the war, you know. The old sea-serpent,"continued Mr. Slocum, with hopeless confusion of metaphor, "had ahand in fitting out more than one blockade-runner. They used to talkof a ship that got away from Charleston with a cargo of cotton thatnetted the share-holders upwards of two hundred thousand dollars. Hedenies it now, but everybody knows Shackford. He'd betray his countryfor fifty cents in postage-stamps."

  "Oh, papa! you are too hard on him."

  In words dropped cursorily from time to time, Margaret imparted toRichard the substance of her father's speech, and it set Richardreflecting. It was not among the probabilities that Lemuel Shackfordwould advance a dollar to establish Richard, but if he could inducehis cousin even to take the matter into consideration, Richard feltthat it would be a kind of moral support to him circumstanced as hewas. His pride revolted at the idea of coming quite unbacked anddisowned, as well as empty-handed, to Mr. Slocum.

  For the last twelve months there had been a cessation of ordinarycourtesies between the two cousins. They now passed each other on thestreet without recognition. A year previously Mr. Shackford hadfallen ill, and Richard, aware of the inefficient domesticarrangements in Welch's Court, had gone to the house out of sheerpity. The old man was in bed, and weak with fever, but at seeingRichard he managed to raise himself on one elbow.

  "Oh, it's you!" he exclaimed, mockingly. "When a rich man is sickthe anxious heirs crowd around him; but they're twice as honestlyanxious when he is perfectly well."

  "I came to see if I could do anything for you!" cried Richard,with a ferocious glare, and in a tone that went curiously with hiswords, and shook to the foundations his character of Good Samaritan.

  "The only thing you can do for me is to go away."

  "I'll do that with pleasure," retorted Richard bitterly.

  And Richard went, vowing he would never set foot across thethreshold again. He could not help having ugly thoughts. Why shouldall the efforts to bring about a reconciliation and all theforbearance be on his side? Thenceforth the crabbed old man might goto perdition if he wanted to.

  And now here was Richard meditating a visit to that same house tobeg a favor!

  Nothing but his love for Margaret could have dragged him to such abanquet of humble-pie as he knew was spread for his delectation, themorning he passed up the main street of Stillwater and turned intoWelch's Court.

  As Richard laid his hand on the latch of the gate, Mr. Shackford,who was digging in the front garden, looked up and saw him. Withoutpaying any heed to Richard's amicable salutation, the old man leftthe shovel sticking in the sod, and walked stiffly into the house. Atanother moment this would have amused Richard, but now he gravelyfollowed his kinsman, and overtook him at the foot of the staircase.

  "Cousin Shackford, can you spare me five or ten minutes?"

  "Don't know as I can," said Mr. Shackford, with one foot on thelower stair. "Time is valuable. What do you want? You wantsomething."

  "Certainly, or I wouldn't think of trespassing on your time."

  "Has Slocum thrown you over?" inquired the old man, turningquickly. A straw which he held between his thin lips helped to givehim a singularly alert expression.

  "No; Mr. Slocum and I agree the best in the world. I want to talkwith you briefly on certain matters; I want to be on decent termswith you, if you will let me."

  "Decent terms means money, doesn't it?" asked Mr. Shackford, witha face as wary and lean as a shark's.

  "I do wish to talk about money, among other things," returnedRichard, whom this brutal directness disconcerted a little,--"moneyon satisfactory security."

  "You can get it anywhere with that."

  "So I might, and be asking no favor; but I would rather get it ofyou, and consider it an obligation."

  "I would rather you wouldn't."

  "Listen to me a moment."

  "Well, I'm listening."

  Mr. Shackford stood in an attitude of attention, with his headcanted on one side, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, and the strawbetween his teeth tilted up at an angle of forty degrees.

  "I have, as you know, worked my way in the marble yard to theposition of general manager," began Richard.

  "I didn't know," said Mr. Shackford, "but I understand. You're asort of head grave-stone maker."

  "That is taking a rather gloomy view of it," said Richard, "but nomatter. The point is, I hold a responsible position, and I now have achance to purchase a share in the works."

  "Slocum is willing to take you in, eh?"

  "Yes."

  "Then the concern is hit."

  "Hit?"

  "Slocum is going into bankruptcy."

  "You are wrong there. The yard was never so prosperous; the comingyear we shall coin money like a mint."

  "You ought to know," said Mr. Shackford, ruminatively. "A thing asgood as a mint must be a good thing."

  "If I were a partner in the business, I could marry Margaret."

  "Who's Margaret?"

  "Mr. Slocum's daughter."

  "That's where the wind is! Now how much capital would it take todo all that?" inquired Mr. Shackford, with an air of affablespeculation.

  "Three or four thousand dollars,--perhaps less."

  "Well, I wouldn't give three or four cents to have you marrySlocum's daughter. Richard, you can't pull any chestnuts out of thefire with my paw."

  Mr. Shackford's interrogation and his more than usual conciliatorymanner had lighted a hope which Richard had not brought with him. Itssudden extinguishment was in consequence doubly aggravating.

  "Slocum's daughter!" repeated Mr. Shackford. "I'd as soon youwould marry Crazy Nan up at the work-house."

  The association of
Crazy Nan with Margaret sent a red flush intoRichard's cheek. He turned angrily towards the door, and then halted,recollecting the resolve he had made not to lose his temper, comewhat would. If the interview was to end there it had better not havetaken place.

  "I had no expectation that you would assist me pecuniarily," saidRichard, after a moment. "Let us drop the money question; itshouldn't have come up between us. I want you to aid me, not bylending me money, but by giving me your countenance as the head ofthe family,--by showing a natural interest in my affairs, and seemingdisposed to promote them."

  "By just seeming?"

  "That is really all I desire. If you were to propose to putcapital into the concern, Mr. Slocum would refuse it."

  "Slocum would refuse it! Why in the devil should he refuse it?"

  "Because"--Richard hesitated, finding himself unexpectedly ondelicate ground--"because he would not care to enter into businessrelations with you, under the circumstances."

  Mr. Shackford removed the straw from his mouth, and holding itbetween his thumb and forefinger peered steadily through hishalf-closed eyelids at Richard.

  "I don't understand you."

  "The dispute you had long ago, over the piece of meadow landbehind the marble yard. Mr. Slocum felt that you bore on him ratherheavily in that matter, and has not quite forgiven you for forcinghim to rebuild the sheds."

  "Bother Slocum and his sheds! I understand him. What I don'tunderstand is _you_. I am to offer Slocum three or four thousanddollars to set you up, and he is to decline to take it. Is that it?"

  "That is not it at all," returned Richard. "My statement was this:If you were to propose purchasing a share for me in the works, Mr.Slocum would not entertain the proposition, thinking--as I don'tthink--that he would mortify you by the refusal of your money."

  "The only way Slocum could mortify me would be by getting hold ofit. But what are you driving at, anyhow? In one breath you demandseveral thousand dollars, and in the next breath you tell me thatnobody expects it, or wants it, or could be induced to have it on anyterms. Perhaps you will inform me what you are here for?"

  "That is what you will never discover!" cried Richard. "It is notin you to comprehend the ties of sympathy that ought to hold betweentwo persons situated as we are. In most families this sympathy bindsclosely at times,--at christenings, or burials, or when some memberis about to take an important step in life. Generally speaking, bloodis thicker than water; but your blood, cousin Shackford, seems to bea good deal thinner. I came here to consult with you as my soleremaining kinsman, as one authorized by years and position to give mewise counsel and kindly encouragement at the turning point in myfortune. I didn't wish to go among those people like a tramp, withneither kith nor kin to say a word for me. Of course you don'tunderstand that. How should you? A sentiment of that kind issomething quite beyond your conception."

  Richard's words went into one ear and out the other, withoutseeming for an instant to arrest Mr. Shackford's attention. The ideaof Slocum not accepting money--anybody's money--presented itself toMr. Shackford in so facetious a light as nearly to throw him intogood humor. His foot was on the first step of the staircase, which henow began slowly to mount, giving vent, as he ascended, to a seriesof indescribable chuckles. At the top of the landing he halted, andleaned over the rail.

  "To think of Slocum refusing,--that's a good one!"

  In the midst of his jocularity a sudden thought seemed to strikeMr. Shackford; his features underwent a swift transformation, and ashe grasped the rail in front of him with both hands a maliciouscunning writhed and squirmed in every wrinkle of his face.

  "Sir!" he shrieked, "it was a trap! Slocum would have taken it! IfI had been ass enough to make any such offer, he would have jumped atit. What do you and Slocum take me for? You're a pair of rascals!"

  Richard staggered back, bewildered and blinded, as if he hadreceived a blow in the eyes.

  "No," continued Mr. Shackford, with a gesture of intense contempt,"you are less than rascals. You are fools. A rascal has to havebrains!"

  "You shameless old man!" cried Richard, as soon as he could gethis voice.

  To do Mr. Shackford justice, he was thoroughly convinced thatRichard had lent himself to a preposterous attempt to obtain moneyfrom him. The absence of ordinary shrewdness in the method stamped itat once as belonging to Slocum, of whose mental calibre Mr. Shackfordentertained no flattering estimate.

  "Slocum!" he muttered, grinding the word between his teeth."Family ties!" he cried, hurling the words scornfully over thebanister as he disappeared into one of the upper chambers.

  Richard stood with one hand on the newel-post, white at the lipwith rage. For a second he had a wild impulse to spring up thestaircase, but, controlling this, he turned and hurried out of thehouse.

  At the gate he brushed roughly against a girl, who halted andstared. It was a strange thing to see Mr. Richard Shackford, whoalways had a pleasant word for a body, go by in that blind, excitedfashion, striking one fist into the palm of the other hand, andtalking to his own self! Mary Hennessey watched him until he wheeledout of Welch's Court, and then picking up her basket, which she hadrested on the fence, went her way.