CHAPTER XX
BERTHA MEETS MANHATTAN
It was a green land in which she woke. The leaves were just puttingforth their feathery fronds of foliage, and the shorn lawns, the wavingfloods of growing wheat, and the smooth slopes of pastures presentedpleasant pictures to the mountain-born girl. These thickly peopledfarm-lands, the almost contiguous villages, the constant passing oftrains roused in her a surprise and wonder which left her silent. Suchweight of human life, such swarming populations, appalled her. How didthey all live?
At breakfast Haney was in unusual flow of spirits. "'Twas here I rodethe trucks of a freight-car," he said once and again. "In this town Islept all night on a bench in the depot.... I know every tie from hereto Syracuse. I wonder is the station agent living yet. 'Twould warm meheart to toss him out ten dollars for that night's lodging. Them was thegreat days! In Syracuse I worked for a livery-stableman as hostler, andI would have gone hungry but for the scullion Maggie. Cross-eyed wasMaggie, but her heart beat warm for the lad in the loft, and many's theplates of beef and bowls of hot soup she handed to me--poor girl! I'dlike to know where she is; had I the power of locomotion I'd look herup, too."
Again Bertha was brought face to face with the great sacrifice she wasobscurely contemplating. The magic potency of money was brought beforeher eyes as she contrasted the ragged, homeless boy with the man who satbeside her. The fact that he had not earned the money only made itsmagic the more clearly inherent in the gold itself. It panoplied thethief's carriage. It made dwarfs admirable, and gave dignity and honorto the lowly. It made it possible for Marshall Haney to retrace in royalsplendor the perilous and painful journey he had made into the West somethirty years ago--rewarding with regal generosity those who threw him abroken steak or a half-eaten roll--and she could imaginatively enterinto the exquisite pleasure this largess gave the man.
"And there was Father McBreen," he resumed, with a chuckle--"'sure themark of Satan is on the b'y,' he used to say every time my mother toldhim of one of my divilments. And he was right. All the same, I'd like todrop in on him and surprise him with a check"--at the moment he forgotthat he was old and a cripple--"just to let him know the divil hadn'tclaimed me yet. I'd like to show him me wife." He put his hand on herarm and smiled. "Sure the old man would revise his prediction could hesee you; he might say the divil had got _you_--but he couldn't pityme."
She turned him aside from this by saying: "I reckon New York is a greatdeal bigger than Chicago. Mr. Moss says it makes any other town seemlike a county seat. I'm dead leery of it. I want to see it, but it justnaturally locoes me to think of it."
"'Tis the only place to spend money--so the boys tell me. I've neverbeen there but once, and then only for three days. I went on to get aman when I was sheriff in San Juan. I saw it then mostly as a wonderfulfine swamp to lose a thief in."
"Did you get your man?" she asked, with formal interest.
"I did so--and nearly died for want of sleep on the way home; he was adesprit character, was black Hosay; but I linked him to me arm and tuckchances."
Once she had listened to these stories with eager interest; now theywere but empty boasting--so deeply inwrought was her soul with mattersthat more nearly concerned her woman's need and woman's nature. Thepotency of gold!--could any magic be greater? They lived like folk in aflying palace (with books and papers, easy-chairs and card-tables),eating carefully cooked meals, served by attendants as considerate andas constant as those at their own fireside. The broad windows gavestreaming panorama of town and country, hill and river, and the youngwife accepted it all with the haughty air of one who is wearied withsplendor, but inwardly the knowledge that it all came to Haney (as toher) unearned troubled her. Luck was his God, but she, while acceptingfrom him these marvellous, shining gifts, had another God--one derivedfrom her Saxon ancestors, one to whom luxury was akin to harlotry.
They left the train at Albany and went to the best hotel in the city tospend the night. "To-morrow I'll see if I can find anybody who knowswhere the old dad is," said Haney. "'Tis too late, and I'm too weary todo it to-night."
Bertha was tired, too--mentally wearied, and glad of a chance to bealone. She went at once to her room, leaving the Captain and Lucius busywith the Troy directory.
Haney set about his search next day with the eager zeal of a lad. Hetook an almost childish pleasure in displaying his good-fortune. ThroughLucius he hired an auto-car as good as the one he had left in Chicago,and together he and Bertha rode into his native town, up into the bleak,brick-paved ward through which he had roamed when a cub. It had changed,of course, as all things American must, but it was so much the same,after all, that he could point out the alleys where he used to tosspennies and play cards and fight. Every corner was historic to him."Phil O'Brien used to keep saloon here--and I've earned many a dimesweepin' out for his barkeeper. I was never a drunken lad," he gravelysaid; "I don't know why--I had all the chance there was. I've beenmoderate of drink all me life. No, I won't say that--I'll say I tuck itas it came, with no fear and no favor. When playin', I always let italone--it spiled me nerve--I let the other felly do the drinkin'."
Some of the signs were unchanged, and he sent Lucius in to ask theproprietor of the "Hoosac Market" to step out; and when he appeared, aplump man with close-clipped gray hair and smoothly shaven face, heshouted, "'Tis old Otto--just the man I nade. Howdy, Otto Siegel?"
Siegel shaded his eyes and looked up at Haney. "You haff the edventegeoff me alretty."
"I'm Mart Haney--you remember Mart Haney."
Siegel grasped the situation. "Sure! Vy, how you vass dis dime, eh!Vell, vell--you gome pack in style, ain't it? Your daughter--yes?"
"My wife," said Haney.
Siegel raised a fat arm, which a dirty blue undershirt imperfectlydraped, and Bertha shook hands with curt politeness. "Vell, vell, Mart,you must haff struck a cold-mine by now, hah?"
"That's what."
"Vell, vell! and I licked you fer hookin' apples off me vonce--aind dotright?"
Mart grinned. "I reckon that's so. I said I'd cut you in two when I grewup; all boys say such things, but I reckon your whalin' did me good. Butwhat I want to know is this, can you tell me where to find the old man?"
"Your fader? He's in Brooklyn--so I heart. I don't know. My, my! he'llbe clad to see you--"
"You don't know his address?"
"No, I heart he was livin' mit your sister Kate."
"Donahue's in a saloon, I reckon."
"Always. He tondt know nodding else. You can fint him in thedirectory--Chon Donahue, barkeep."
"All right. Much obleeged." Haney looked around. "I don't suppose any ofthe boys are livin' here now?"
"Von or two. Chake Schmidt iss a boliceman, Harry Sullivan iss in tevater-vorks department, ant a few oders. Mostly dey are scattered; someare teadt--many are teadt," he added, on second thought.
"Well, good-luck," and Haney reached down to shake hands again, and themachine began to whiz. "Tell all the boys 'How.'"
For half an hour they ran about the streets at his direction, while hetalked on about his youthful joys and sorrows. "You wouldn't suppose alad could have any fun in such a place as this," he said, musingly, "butI did. I was a careless, go-divil pup, and had a power of friends, andthese alleys and bare brick walls were the only play-ground we had. Youcan't cheat a boy--he's goin' to have a good time if he has three grainsof corn in his belly and a place to sleep when he's tired. I was allright till me old dad started to put me into the factory to work; then Ibroke loose. I could work for an hour or two as hard as anny one; but awhole long day--not for Mart! Right there I decided to emigrate and growup with the Injuns."
Bertha listened to his musing comment with a new light upon his life.She had little cause for the feeling of disgust which came to her whilestudying the scenes of his boyhood--her own childhood had been almost ashumble, almost as cheerless--and yet she could not prevent a sinking atthe heart. The gambler, so picturesque in his wickedness, was becomingcommonplace. He rose
from such petty conditions, after all.
Thus far the question of his family relations had not troubled her verymuch, for, aside from the chance coming of Charles, she had had littleopportunity of knowing anything about the Haneys, and they had seemed avery long way off; but now, as she was rushing down upon New York City,with the promise of not only finding the father, but of taking him backwith them to live, she began to doubt. His character was of the greatestimportance, in view of his taking a seat beside their fire.
It was singular, it was bewildering, this change in her estimate ofMarshall Haney. The deeper he sank in reminiscent meditation the fartherhe withdrew from the bold and splendid freebooter he had once seemed toher. She was now unjust to him for he was still capable of what his kindcall "standing pat." The rough-and-ready borderman was still housedunder the same thatch of hair with the sentimental old Irishman, and yetit would have sorely puzzled the keenest observer to discover therelationship of that handsome, rather serious-browed, richly clothedyoung woman and her big, elderly, garrulous companion. Bertha was noteasy to classify, in herself, for she gave out an air of reserve notreadily accounted for. She looked to be the well-clothed, carefullyreared American girl, but her gestures, the silent, unsmiling way inwhich she received what was said to her--something indefinably alert andself-masterful without being self-conscious--gave her a mysteriouscharm.
She was profoundly absorbed in the great, historic river on her right,and yet she did not cry out as other girls of her age would have done.She read her folder and kept vigilant eyes upon all the passing pointsof interest--even as Haney rumbled on about Charles and his father andKate--more than half distraught by the vague recollections she had ofher school histories and geographies. How little she knew! "I mustbuckle down to some kind of study," she repeatedly said to herself, asif it helped her to a more inflexible resolution.
Soon the mighty city and its fabled sea-shore began to scare her soulwith vague alarms and exultations. Manhattan was as remote to her asLondon, and as splendidly alien as Paris. It was, indeed, both Londonand Paris to her. Its millions of people appalled her. How could so manyfolk live in one place?
Again the magic power of money bucklered her. It was good to think thatthey were to go to the best hotels, and that she had no need to troubleherself about anything, for Lucius settled everything. He telegraphedfor rooms, he assembled all their baggage and tipped their porters: andwhen they rushed into the long tunnel in Harlem he was free to take theCaptain by the arm and help him to the forward end of the car ready toalight, leaving Bertha to follow without so much as a satchel to burdenher arm. Haney had accepted Lucius' assurance that the Park Palace wasthe smart hostelry, and to this they drove as to some unknown inn in aforeign capital.
It was gorgeous enough to belong in the tale of Aladdin's lamp--apalace, in very truth, with entrance-hall in keeping with theglittering, roaring Avenue through which they drove, and which was toBertha quite as strange as a boulevard in Berlin would have been. Luciusconducted them into the reception-room with an air of proprietorship,and soon had waiters, maids and bell-boys "jumping." His management wasmasterful. He knew just what time to give each man, and just how much tosay concerning his master and mistress. He conveyed to the clerk thatwhile Captain Haney didn't want any foolish display, he liked thingscomfortable round him, and the colored man's tone, as he spoke that word"comfortable," was far-reaching in effect. The best available placeswere put at his command.
Bertha accepted it all with cold impassivity; it was only a littlehigher gloss, a little more glitter than they had suffered in Chicago;and she was getting used to seeing men in braid and buttons "hustle"when she came near. The suite of rooms to which they were conductedlooked out on Fifth Avenue, as Lucius proudly explained; and from theirwindows he designated some of the houses of the millionaires who receivethe homage of the less rich (and of the very poor) which only nobilitycan command in Europe. Bertha betrayed no eager interest in thesenotables, but she was very deeply impressed by the far-famed Avenue,which was already thickening with the daily five-o'clock parade ofcarriages, auto-cars, and pedestrians.
Lucius explained this custom, and said: "If you'd like to go out I'llget a car."
"Let's do it!" she exclaimed to Haney.
"Sure! get one. These smell-wagons must have been invented for crippleslike me."
Bertha took that ride in the spirit of one who never expects to do itagain, and so deeply did the city print itself upon her memory that shewas able to recall years afterwards a hundred of its glittering points,angles, and facets. She felt herself up-borne by money. Without Haney'sbank-book she would have been merely one of those minute insects whotimidly sought to cross the street, and yet philosophers marvel at therace men make for gold! So long as silken parasols and automobiles madwith pride are keenly enjoyed, so long will Americans--and all otherswho have them not--struggle for them; for they are not only the signs ofdistinction and luxury, they are delights. A private car is not merelydisplay; it is comfort. To have a suite of rooms at the Park Palace isnot all show; it makes for homely ease, cleanliness, repose. And thesepeople riding imperiously to and fro in Fifth Avenue buy not merelydiamonds, but well-cooked food, warm and shining raiment, and freedomfrom the scramble on the pave.
Some understanding of all this was beating home to Bertha's head andheart. She had as yet no keen desire for the glitter of wealth, but itsgrateful shelter, its power to defend and nurture, were qualities whichhad begun to make its lure almost irresistible. Haney liked theauto-car, not for its red and gold (which delighted Lucius), but for itshandiness in taking him about the city. It saved him from climbing inand out of a high car door; it was swifter and safer than a carriage;therefore, he was ready to purchase its speed and convenience. He caredlittle for the sensation he would create in riding up to his sister'sdoor in Brooklyn, though he chuckled mightily at the thought of what hisold dad would say; and as they claimed a place among the millionaires hebroke into a sly smile. "If ever a bog-trotter landed at Castle Garden,me father was wan o' them. I can remember the hat he wore. 'Twas a'stovepipe,' sure enough. It had no rim at all at all! It was fuzzy as acat. If he didn't have a green vest it was a wonder. He took me to see aplay once just to show me how he did look. He was onto his own curves,was old dad. I hope he's livin' yet. I'd like to take him up the Avenuein this car and hear the speel he'd put up."
Bertha was in growing uneasiness, and when alone at the close of herwonderful ride through this marvellous city, so clean, so vast, sopacked with stores of all things rich and beautiful, she went to herroom in a blur of doubt. Now that an unspoken, half-formed resolution tofree herself was in her mind, she realized that every extravagance likethis ride, these gorgeous rooms, sank her deeper into helplessindebtedness to Marshall Haney. And this knowledge now took away thekeen edge of her delight, making her food bitter and her pillow hot.
In the midst of her troubled thinking, Lucius knocked at the door toask: "Will you go down to dinner or shall I have it sent up?"
"Oh no, I'll go down."
"They dress for dinner, ma'am."
"Do they? What'll I wear?"
He considered a moment. "Any light silk--semi-dress will do. I'll send amaid in to help you."
"No, I don't need a maid. They're a nuisance," she quickly answered.
Lucius' attitude towards her was more than respectful--it was paternal;for she made no more secret of her early condition than Haney, and thecolored man enjoyed serving them. He seemed perfectly happy in advising,cautioning, directing them, and was deeply impressed with their powersof adaptability--was, in truth, developing a genuine affection for themboth. He was a lonely little man, Bertha had learned, with no near kinin the States, and the fact that he came from an Island in the sea madehim less of a "nigger" to the Captain, who had the usual amount ofprejudice against both black and red men.
The high-keyed, sumptuous dining-hall was filled with small tablesexquisitely furnished, and the carpets underfoot, thick-piled anddeep-toned, gave
a singular solemnity to the function of eating. It wasa temple raised to the glory of terrapin and "alligator pears"; and asthe Captain moved slowly across the aisles, closely attended by azealous waiter he smiled and said to his wife: "This is a long ways fromSibley and the Golden Eagle, Bertie, don't you think?"
"It sure is," she replied, and her laughing lips and big pansy-purpleeyes made her seem very young and very gay again.
Around her men and women in evening dress were feeding subduedly, whilebevies of hawklike waiters swooped and circled, bearing platters,tureens, and baskets of iced wine-bottles. It made the hotel at Chicagoappear like a plain, old-fashioned tavern, so remote, so European, solavish, and yet so exaggeratedly quiet, was this service. Some of thewomen at the tables were spangled like the queens of the stage; mainlythey were not only gloriously gowned, but in harmony with the sumptuousbeauty around them. Their adornments made Bertha feel very rural andvery shy.
"I wish I was younger," the Captain said, "I'd take ye to the theatreto-night, but I'm too tired. I could go for a couple of hours, but--tomiss me sleep--"
"Don't think of it," she hastened to command. "I don't want to go. I'mjust about all in, myself."
"'Tis a shame, darlin', surely it is, to keep you from havin' a goodtime just because I am an old helpless side o' beef. 'Tis not in meheart to play dog in the manger, Bertie. If ye'd like to go, do so.Lucius will take ye."
"Nit," she curtly replied; "you rest up, and we'll go to-morrow night.We might take another turn and see the town by electric light; you couldkind o' lean back in the car and take it easy."
This they did; and it was more moving, more appalling, to the girl thanby day. The fury of traffic on Broadway, the crowds of people, theendless strings of brilliantly lighted street-cars, the floods of'busses, auto-cars, cabs, and carriages poured in upon the girl'sreceptive brain a tide of perceptions of the city's wealth, power, andcomplexity of social life which amazed while it exalted her. The ideathat she might share in all this dazzled her. "We could live here," shethought; "the Captain's income would keep us just anyway we wanted tolive." But a vision of her own beautiful house under the shadow of thegreat peak came back to reproach her. Her horses and dogs awaited her.This tumultuous island was only a place to visit, after all.
"Do you suppose this goes on every night?" she said to Haney, as theyturned off Broadway.
"I reckon it does," he said. "How is that, Lucius?" he asked. "Is this aspecial performance, or does the old town do this every night?"
"In the season, yes, sir. It's the last week of the Opera, and it'll bequieter now till November."
They returned to their hotel with a sense of having touched the ultimatein civic splendor, human pride, and social complexity. New York had metmost of their ideals. They were glad it was on American soil and in thenation's metropolis; but, after all, it remained alien and mysterious,of a rank with Paris and London--the gateway city of the nation, wherethe Old World meets and mingles with the New.
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