The Wide House

by Taylor Caldwell

  He came slowly back into the room. The chill dankness had gone from him. His whole big body was hot and vibrating. It suddenly occurred to him that he had not heard her voice, except for that faint murmur when her father had addressed her. It did not matter. He longed for this lovely thing with enormous passion.

  “A pretty chit, eh?” said Joshua, with deprecation, staring at Stuart cunningly.

  Stuart said nothing. He looked at the fire, whose heat now felt insufferable to him. He pushed back his chair, and breathed heavily. Joshua, who a moment ago had decided to inform Stuart, very casually, that his daughter was destined for a life far from Grandeville, now decided to hold his tongue. Let the beefy sweating fool entangle himself in dreams and lustings. His later humiliations and sufferings and ruin would then be the more intense.

  “Ten thousand dollars?” said Joshua, shaking his head with loving rebuke. “A lot of money, Stuart. Remember, you still owe me twelve thousand dollars.” He rubbed his dry palms together with a sound like the slithering of a snake through dry leaves. He chuckled benignly.

  Stuart came to himself with difficulty. Then, remembering the house he wished to build, which would be so appropriate a setting for that divine creature now bedazzling his senses and enchanting his mind, his determination and ardor came back in a wild rush. He cried, rather than said: “You have no complaint, sir! You are receiving the interest and principal regularly!”

  “Quite true, quite true,” agreed Joshua, in the richest of voices, and nodding his head benevolently. “I do not regret lending you the money, Stuart. Money, like tools, rusts if it is not used. You have the highest credit with me. But you will forgive me if I satisfy myself, for the sake of our depositors—a sacred trust, Stuart—if I make some inquiries?”

  “Make them!” exclaimed Stuart, intoxicated.

  “May I ask what sort of new plan this is that will require ten thousand dollars, proposed so recklessly?”

  Stuart leaned towards him. Regardless of the fire, he pulled his chair forward, his face and eyes aglow and blazing. “I want a house. A good house. A house such as doesn’t exist in Grandeville at the present time. Something unusual. Not a house to live in temporarily, but always. I have the plans, mostly in my own head. I want only the best The ten thousand dollars,” he added, incautiously, and in his enthusiasm, “will be only a beginning.”

  “Ah,” murmured Joshua, narrowing his eyes and regarding the other intently.

  “I have eight thousand dollars, cash, to begin with. I wish it were more. But Sam and I put everything back into the shops. We have an order coming for which we have paid fourteen thousand dollars. But the eight thousand dollars will do for a start. I have already purchased the stone, for which I shall pay nearly five thousand dollars—out of my eight thousand. But all that is only the beginning. That is why I need the ten thousand.”

  Joshua’s face revealed nothing. He said, thoughtfully: “Where do you intend to build?”

  Stuart hesitated, then plunged in boldly. “I want to buy some land from you, sir. You have a large tract near the river. I thought about eight acres, perhaps more.”

  “Eight acres!” Joshua cleared his throat slyly. “Well, Stuart, I must explain. I had almost intended to build there, myself. Besides, I have some other plans. Docks, perhaps, when the city grows. Perhaps the railroad, which we expect to be laid through to Grandeville, might desire that tract of land, at a good price.” He shook his head. “Buy another place. I should have to ask you too much for it. That would hurt me.”

  “How much?” asked Stuart, bluntly, hating him.

  “That land,” said Joshua, “lies at the narrowest part of the river. I’ve heard rumors that a better ferry service to Canada will soon be planned. Docks will be necessary.”

  “How much?” repeated Stuart, with a dark tight face.

  Joshua tented his fingers, and regarded Stuart affectionately. “Four hundred dollars an acre,” he said.

  “Four him—,” began Stuart, and then was silent. His face became violent in its speechlessness. His fists clenched. Then, in a stifled voice, he said: “Why, you damned old—! You bought that land for one thousand dollars, all two hundred acres of it! And that, less than five years ago! Five dollars an acre! And now you have the audacity to ask four hundred dollars an acre for it!”

  Joshua was not affronted. He grinned. “That was five years ago, my boy. Grandeville has grown considerably since then. It is expanding down the river. In ten years, it will be worth twice what I ask. Why, only a week ago a grain man offered me five hundred an acre. He wanted to buy five. When I name only four hundred, it is as a concession to you.”

  “There isn’t a piece of property anywhere in this country worth four hundred dollars an acre, and you are well aware of that, you, you—!” cried Stuart.

  Joshua shrugged with Christian patience. “All right, Stuart. Suppose we don’t argue about it? Four hundred is my price. I don’t really want to sell. Why not build elsewhere?” he added, reasonably. “I have fine parcels of land at less than twenty dollars an acre which might suit you.”

  “And where would that be?” asked Stuart, grimly.

  Joshua screwed up his eyes meditatively, and studied the vaulted ceiling which floated in melancholy shadow.

  “Let me see,” he muttered, thoughtfully. “Ah, yes! Certainly. A really lovely parcel of land, Stuart,” he added, with delightful enthusiasm. “Not an eighth of a mile from the home of your friend, Mr. Houlihan—I beg your pardon: ‘Father’ Houlihan. The south section of the city. I admit that section is not excessively desirable, in some parts. But just beyond its immediate borders is a nice piece of property. Ten acres. I can let you have it for twenty-five dollars an acre.”

  “You mean, near the quarries, and the brickyards?” said Stuart, very quietly.

  “Yes, yes, of course! You know the section, I see. How convenient, when you wish to visit your friend! Just a few minutes from his residence. And, as you are such close friends, the presence of his parishioners near by should give you considerable pleasure.”

  Stuart stared at him with darkly sparkling eyes. “My house! You think I would build my house near German swine and Irish dockhands and street-cleaners?” The ancient hatred of the Celt for the Teuton filled his face with dark blood. He seemed to be choking. He lifted his hands in a violent gesture.

  “My dear boy, my dear boy!” exclaimed Joshua, lifting his hands in amazed horror. “I am surprised at you! Are not these men our brothers in the sight of God? Is this not a Republic where all men are equal? Besides, you are Irish, also, you must remember.”

  Unable to control himself, Stuart sprang to his feet. He looked down at Joshua with such rage that the old man involuntarily extended his hand towards the bell-rope that hung near his side. But he could not reach it. Stuart’s look paralysed him, and he could only gaze at him with unblinking eyes in which fear had risen starkly.

  “Near your brothels? Near your taverns? Near your dirty brickyards and tanneries and slaughter-houses?” said Stuart, hoarsely, clenching and unclenching his fists, and trembling with his savage fury. “Where I could watch your whores parading past my house at night, and the drunkards screaming as your hirelings threw them into the gutter? My God, I ought to kill you!”

  “Softly, softly,” muttered Joshua, casting a glance of sincere alarm and uneasiness towards the doorway. “My dear Stuart,” he continued, trying to mask his fear, “do sit down, I pray you. Stop looking at me like a wild bull. If I have offended you by suggesting that you are no better than the men who live in that section, I apologize. But, you see, by your association with that debased Papist, Houlihan, and with the Jew, Berkowitz, you have almost forfeited the regard of society. Gentlemen with any pretense of genteel habits do not associate with such creatures. ‘By their fellows shall ye know them,’ to paraphrase the words of Our Lord, Jesus Christ.”

  “You dare mention Father Houlihan in the same breath as yourself?” ejaculated Stuart, almost beside himsel
f. “You dare believe that you are the equal of Sam Berkowitz? You, who have never had an honorable thought in your wizened life, or a gentle charity, and who have never done one act to endear yourself?”

  Joshua sat back in his chair, though his lean and shrivelled body was rigid with alarm. He assumed the air of forgiving majesty. He eyed Stuart with a look of profound agitated sorrow.

  “My dear, dear boy,” he said, “I am amazed, wounded, at your extraordinary passion. I never bear malice. I never nurse in my bosom any unworthy feelings of indignation or vengefulness. Did I ask you to come here tonight and request a loan of ten thousand dollars? Did I say to you: ‘Mr. Coleman, sir, I beg of you to enter my house and there negotiate a transfer of ten thousand dollars from my pocket to yours?’ Is it by my will that you came, and by my will that you have affronted me?”

  Stuart was silent. All at once he was terribly sick. He cursed his tongue, which had led him into this trap, his ferocious tongue which was like an unbroken stallion, full of fire and danger. Now his house was gone. Miss Marvina was gone. Forever. Worse than all else, he felt himself a fool.

  Joshua craftily studied him. He saw Stuart turn pale. He felt no pity for this impetuous, warm-blooded young man whom he had so humiliated. He was feckless. He was contemptible. He was less than dirt, less than a dog, to Joshua Allstairs. The foul Irish rascal!

  Nevertheless, none of these malevolent thoughts showed on the old man’s face. Instead, in a voice of grave long-suffering and kindness, he said: “Do sit down, Stuart. I am sorry we cannot come to terms. But I will tell you what I will do: I will sell you two acres of that land for seven hundred dollars. That is three hundred fifty dollars an acre, one hundred fifty less than what the grain feller offered. Come now, what more can I do?”

  He spread out his hands in a timid and defenseless gesture. Stuart was not deceived. But a frightful wave of relief flowed over him, so intense that he felt weak. The house, and Miss Marvina, were not irretrievably lost, then! He did not see how completely he had played into Joshua’s hands. He was to see that only later. He only felt a stiff and shaking gratitude that he was not to be thrown out before his mission was accomplished.

  Again, Stuart sat down. Joshua beamed on him with sacred fondness. “There now, there now,” he purred. “That’s better. Much better. Well do more by kind words and reason than by name-calling and anger. We are reasonable men, are we not, Stuart?”

  “How do you want the seven hundred dollars?” asked Stuart, stifled with his warring emotions.

  “Cash, Stuart, my boy. Cash. A small transaction. Too small for a loan.”

  “You shall have it. And—the ten thousand dollars?”

  “That is another matter,” said Joshua, with hesitating regret. “Now, let me think a moment.”

  He bowed his head over the hands folded on the cane, and seemed to pray. Nothing could have been more pathetic than his attitude, which seemed to suggest that he was wrestling with the more venal promptings of his mind, while his soul and heart pleaded for his young friend. And Stuart watched him with a profound and riotous loathing which he could not conceal. The fire crackled somberly. The long shadows seemed to creep back again around the borders of the lamps.

  Finally, Joshua lifted his head, his gray and wizened face radiant. He slapped his knee, and chuckled.

  “I have it, my boy! When you have laid the foundation of the house, and have started to build with your own eight thousand dollars, then I shall lend you ten thousand dollars! I will send you an agreement to that effect tomorrow. There now, isn’t that capital? Isn’t that excellent?”

  Stuart regarded him somberly. “And?” he said, with grimness.

  “Ah, yes, I presume you mean the interest.” Joshua leaned back in his chair, and became thoughtful again. “You see, Stuart, I am in a delicate situation. You already owe me a vast sum of money. You can’t give me another mortgage on your shops. I owe it to my depositors. One must protect and tenderly guard the trust of those depending upon one. One must cherish it. That is the Christian attitude. My only recourse, then, is to take a first mortgage on your house.”

  Stuart breathed unevenly. “Yes, I can see that. I am willing, though I thought you might increase the loan on my property. What interest?”

  “Let me see,” said Joshua. “A house such as you intend is a risky investment. Who would, in Grandeville, purchase a house which cost at least twenty thousand dollars to build? Where is the man who has the money, or the recklessness, or the extravagance? It would be a white elephant. Therefore, should you—er—default, through no fault of your own, of course, I would have on my hands a house without much probability of a buyer. I should face the loss of my ten thousand dollars. Or rather, my depositors would face that loss. That is too much to ask of these struggling farmers, my boy, these little tradesmen. Think of the dollars, too, deposited in my bank by the toiling workman, each coin stained with honest labor. I must protect them,” he added, with holy and kindling ardor. “None of these shall ever say that Joshua Allstairs wasted their substance, or jeopardized the earnings of their sweat!”

  “What interest?” repeated Stuart, in a low pent voice.

  Joshua gazed at him tenderly. “In justice to those who trust me, I should ask twelve percent. However, because of my paternal regard for you, I shall ask only ten.”

  “Ten percent!” cried Stuart, half rising from his chair, and then sinking back into it. “That is criminal!” All his initial hatred and rage came surging back into him like a dammed river. “It is also illegal!”

  “Illegal?” repeated Joshua, in a pained voice. “Illegal, considering the risk I shall be taking? Why, my dear feller, I ought to ask fifteen percent. However,” and he struck the arm of his chair, “you are under no obligation to accept. If you wish, the subject shall be considered closed.”

  Stuart stood up. He was shaking all over. He felt very cold. Reckless though he was, the enormity of the proposal sobered him. Caution told him to leave at once, before he put himself into shackles forever to this devil.

  And then he saw his dream of a house again, and Miss Marvina rising like a white plumed bird up its circular staircase, and he was completely undone.

  He clenched his hands on the back of his chair. He looked at Joshua with strange glittering eyes. “Done,” he said.

  Joshua looked at him with loving fondness. “Done,” he repeated, gently. “And much pleasure in your house, Stuart.” He coughed archly. “Are you thinking of the sacred bonds of matrimony, my boy? Is that why you wish a house?”

  But Stuart did not reply. Those strange eyes continued to fix themselves upon Joshua; and Joshua, frozen by their glitter, could only stare back, in a profound silence.

  CHAPTER 12

  Joshua Allstairs rarely entertained more than three or four guests at a time, and then only very infrequently. He had as his valid excuse his infirmity and age, and his lack of a hostess. It was true that he now had his daughter, but she was young and inexperienced, and it was not proper that she should as yet take her place as the gracious lady of the house. Moreover, he had no older female relatives in Grandeville.

  However, his cronies and fellow-plotters often came to dinner, as did those who owed him money. As for the latter’s visits, they came almost on command in order that Joshua might satisfy himself in subtle ways that his money was not in jeopardy. Stuart was one of these.

  Stuart, though not given to delving into the motives of others, was yet sufficiently astute, and intuitive as only a Celt can be, and early suspected Joshua’s invitations. It had been his malicious delight to refuse them, except when they became too peremptory or he had been unable to meet a note immediately. But when he felt secure and lordly and arrogant, and matters were proceeding well, he would decline ceremoniously, not even bothering to invent an excuse.

  But now he came, upon every invitation, ostensibly to confide to his dear old friend the progress of work on his mansion. He had two motives, the first and temporarily the more import
ant, the opportunity to ingratiate himself with Miss Marvina and to court her surreptitiously, and the second, to talk of his dear house and the wonders he had ordered for it. In the latter motive there was much of the braggart, much of the preening of the intoxicated cock, and also the desire to impress the girl and make her wish to be mistress of all this coming splendor. So it was that at least twice a week he dined with Joshua and his daughter in the horrible and lofty grave-vault of a dining-room where soggy potatoes and cold fish and pale eggs were served in a mysterious sauce on the most ugly and elaborate silver. It was an unending marvel to Stuart where Joshua had secured his plate and china. In a way they were unique, for no one in Grandeville had ever before seen such hideousness, even in distant shops. It was Stuart’s opinion that they were made to order, and were the excrescences of Joshua’s deformed soul, designed by him.

  Usually, before going to Joshua’s house, he would fortify himself magnificently with whiskey and dine on rich beef and pudding in his own neat brick cottage. Then, pleasantly in a glow, and feeling himself at least eight feet tall and prodigiously handsome and dashing, he would clatter over the cobbled streets in his most impressive carriage with its two black horses, and alight in the grandest and most swashbuckling of manners. Only by such preliminaries could he endure dining with Joshua, and avoid being attacked by nausea at the sight of his obnoxious viands. Fortified, fed and exuberant, he could decline the dishes and endure the dank closed chill of the dining-room and face the implacable old man with assurance and poise.

  At these frequent dinners, he and Joshua would converse on many things. Joshua, who was learned and scholarly and deeply interested in politics and history, would propose many subjects. Sober, Stuart would laughingly have declared himself grandly ignorant on all these topics, but delightfully intoxicated both by whiskey and by Miss Marvina’s golden eyes, there was no subject on which he did not profess at least a talking knowledge. As he was instinctively quick and imaginative and natively shrewd, he often baffled Joshua with his observations, which, though couched in simple language and without affectation, were sometimes possessed of that ancient subtlety of a man whose mind is uncluttered. When Joshua once declared that geography and history were one, Stuart’s mind at once encompassed the idea, and he volubly argued the matter, much to Joshua’s somber anger. Later, Stuart would not remember the discussion, except that he had been almost brilliant, and he would feel some smugness. But his mind remained beautifully innocent of what in more delirious moments had been keen observations.