CHAPTER VIII
A whirling maelstrom of human activity and dynamic energy--thecity which above all others is characteristic of the genius andvirility of the American people--New York, with its congestedpolyglot population and teeming millions, is assuredly one of thebusiest, as it is one of the most strenuous and most noisy placeson earth. Yet, despite its swarming streets and crowded shops,ceaselessly thronged with men and women eagerly hurrying here andthere in the pursuit of business or elusive pleasure, allchattering, laughing, shouting amid the deafening, multisonousroar of traffic incidental to Gotham's daily life, there is onepart of the great metropolis where there is no bustle, no noise,no crowd, where the streets are empty even in daytime, where apasser-by is a curiosity and a child a phenomenon. This desertedvillage in the very heart of the big town is the millionaires'district, the boundaries of which are marked by Carnegie hill onthe north, Fiftieth Street on the south, and by Fifth and MadisonAvenues respectively on the west and east. There is nothing moremournful than the outward aspect of these princely residenceswhich, abandoned and empty for three-quarters of the year, standin stately loneliness, as if ashamed of their isolation and utteruselessness. Their blinds drawn, affording no hint of life within,enveloped the greater part of the time in the stillness andsilence of the tomb, they appear to be under the spell of somebaneful curse. No merry-voiced children romp in their carefullyrailed off gardens, no sounds of conversation or laughter comefrom their hermetically closed windows, not a soul goes in or out,at most, at rare intervals, does one catch a glimpse of agorgeously arrayed servant gliding about in ghostly fashion,supercilious and suspicious, and addressing the chance visitor inawed whispers as though he were the guardian of a house ofaffliction. It is, indeed, like a city of the dead.
So it appeared to Jefferson as he walked up Fifth Avenue, boundfor the Ryder residence, the day following his arrival fromEurope. Although he still lived at his father's house, for at notime had there been an open rupture, he often slept in his studio,finding it more convenient for his work, and there he had gonestraight from the ship. He felt, however, that it was his duty tosee his mother as soon as possible; besides he was anxious tofulfil his promise to Shirley and find what his father could do tohelp Judge Rossmore. He had talked about the case with several menthe previous evening at the club and the general impression seemedto be that, guilty or innocent, the judge would be driven off thebench. The "interests" had forced the matter as a party issue, andthe Republicans being in control in the Senate the outcome couldhardly be in doubt. He had learned also of the other misfortuneswhich had befallen Judge Rossmore and he understood now the reasonfor Shirley's grave face on the dock and her little fib aboutsummering on Long Island. The news had been a shock to him, for,apart from the fact that the judge was Shirley's father, headmired him immensely as a man. Of his perfect innocence therecould, of course, be no question: these charges of bribery hadsimply been trumped up by his enemies to get him off the bench.That was very evident. The "interests" feared him and so hadsacrificed him without pity, and as Jefferson walked along CentralPark, past the rows of superb palaces which face its eastern wall,he wondered in which particular mansion had been hatched thiswicked, iniquitous plot against a wholly blameless Americancitizen. Here, he thought, were the citadels of the plutocrats,America's aristocracy of money, the strongholds of her Coal,Railroad, Oil, Gas and Ice barons, the castles of her monarchs ofSteel, Copper, and Finance. Each of these million-dollarresidences, he pondered, was filled from cellar to roof withcostly furnishings, masterpieces of painting and sculpture,priceless art treasures of all kinds purchased in every corner ofthe globe with the gold filched from a Trust-ridden people. Forevery stone in those marble halls a human being, other than theowner, had been sold into bondage, for each of these magnificentedifices, which the plutocrat put up in his pride only to occupyit two months in the year, ten thousand American men, women andchildren had starved and sorrowed.
Europe, thought Jefferson as he strode quickly along, pointed withenvy to America's unparalleled prosperity, spoke with bated breathof her great fortunes. Rather should they say her giganticrobberies, her colossal frauds! As a nation we were not proud ofour multi-millionaires. How many of them would bear the searchlightof investigation? Would his own father? How many millions couldone man make by honest methods? America was enjoying unprecedentedprosperity, not because of her millionaires, but in spite of them.The United States owed its high rank in the family of nations tothe country's vast natural resources, its inexhaustible vitality,its great wheat fields, the industrial and mechanical genius ofits people. It was the plain American citizen who had made thegreatness of America, not the millionaires who, forming a class bythemselves of unscrupulous capitalists, had created an arrogantoligarchy which sought to rule the country by corrupting thelegislature and the judiciary. The plutocrats--these were theleeches, the sores in the body politic. An organized band ofrobbers, they had succeeded in dominating legislation and insecuring control of every branch of the nation's industry,crushing mercilessly and illegally all competition. They were theMoney Power, and such a menace were they to the welfare of thepeople that, it had been estimated, twenty men in America had itin their power, by reason of the vast wealth which they controlled,to come together, and within twenty-four hours arrive at anunderstanding by which every wheel of trade and commerce would bestopped from revolving, every avenue of trade blocked and everyelectric key struck dumb. Those twenty men could paralyze thewhole country, for they controlled the circulation of the currencyand could create a panic whenever they might choose. It was therapaciousness and insatiable greed of these plutocrats that hadforced the toilers to combine for self-protection, resulting inthe organization of the Labor Unions which, in time, became almostas tyrannical and unreasonable as the bosses. And the breachbetween capital on the one hand and labour on the other waswidening daily, masters and servants snarling over wages andhours, the quarrel ever increasing in bitterness and acrimonyuntil one day the extreme limit of patience would be reached andindustrial strikes would give place to bloody violence.
Meantime the plutocrats, wholly careless of the significant signsof the times and the growing irritation and resentment of thepeople, continued their illegal practices, scoffing at publicopinion, snapping their fingers at the law, even going so far intheir insolence as to mock and jibe at the President of the UnitedStates. Feeling secure in long immunity and actually protected intheir wrong doing by the courts--the legal machinery by its veryelaborateness defeating the ends of justice--the Trust kingsimpudently defied the country and tried to impose their own willupon the people. History had thus repeated itself. The armedfeudalism of the middle ages had been succeeded in twentiethcentury America by the tyranny of capital.
Yet, ruminated the young artist as he neared the Ryder residence,the American people had but themselves to blame for their presentthralldom. Forty years before Abraham Lincoln had warned thecountry when at the close of the war he saw that the race forwealth was already making men and women money-mad. In 1864 hewrote these words:
"Yes, we may congratulate ourselves that this cruel war is nearingits close. It has cost a vast amount of treasure and blood. Thebest blood of the flower of American youth has been freely offeredupon our country's altar that the nation might live. It has beenindeed a trying hour for the Republic, but I see in the nearfuture a crisis approaching that unnerves me and causes me totremble for the safety of my country. As a result of the war,corporations have been enthroned and an era of corruption in highplaces will follow and the money power of the country willendeavor to prolong its reign by working upon the prejudices ofthe people until all the wealth is aggregated in a few hands andthe Republic is destroyed."
Truly prophetic these solemn words were to-day. Forgetting theaustere simplicity of their forebears, a love of show andostentation had become the ruling passion of the American people.Money, MONEY, MONEY! was to-day the only standard, the only god!The whole nation, frenzied with a wild lust for wealth no matt
erhow acquired, had tacitly acquiesced in all sorts of turpitude,every description of moral depravity, and so had fallen an easyvictim to the band of capitalistic adventurers who now virtuallyruled the land. With the thieves in power, the courts werepowerless, the demoralization was general and the world wasafforded the edifying spectacle of an entire country given up toan orgy of graft--treason in the Senate--corruption in theLegislature, fraudulent elections, leaks in government reports,trickery in Wall Street, illegal corners in coal, meat, ice andother prime necessaries of life, the deadly horrors of the Beefand Drug Trusts, railroad conspiracies, insurance scandals, thewrecking of savings banks, police dividing spoils with pickpocketsand sharing the wages of prostitutes, magistrates charged withblackmailing--a foul stench of social rottenness and decay! What,thought Jefferson, would be the outcome--Socialism or Anarchy?
Still, he mused, one ray of hope pierced the general gloom--thecommon sense, the vigour and the intelligence of the true Americanman and woman, the love for a "square deal" which was characteristicof the plain people, the resistless force of enlightened publicopinion. The country was merely passing through a dark phase inits history, it was the era of the grafters. There would come areaction, the rascals would be exposed and driven off, and thenation would go on upward toward its high destiny. The countrywas fortunate, too, in having a strong president, a man of highprinciples and undaunted courage who had already shown hiscapacity to deal with the critical situation. America was luckywith her presidents. Picked out by the great political parties asmere figureheads, sometimes they deceived their sponsors, andshowed themselves men and patriots. Such a president was TheodoreRoosevelt. After beginning vigorous warfare on the Trusts,attacking fearlessly the most rascally of the band, the chief ofthe nation had sounded the slogan of alarm in regard to themulti-millionaires. The amassing of colossal fortunes, he haddeclared, must be stopped--a man might accumulate more thansufficient for his own needs and for the needs of his children,but the evil practice of perpetuating great and ever-increasingfortunes for generations yet unborn was recognized as a peril tothe State. To have had the courage to propose such a sweeping andradical restrictive measure as this should alone, thoughtJefferson, ensure for Theodore Roosevelt a place among America'sgreatest and wisest statesmen. He and Americans of his calibrewould eventually perform the titanic task of cleansing theseAugean stables, the muck and accumulated filth of which wassapping the health and vitality of the nation.
Jefferson turned abruptly and went up the wide steps of animposing white marble edifice, which took up the space of half acity block. A fine example of French Renaissance architecture,with spire roofs, round turrets and mullioned windows dominatingthe neighbouring houses, this magnificent home of the plutocrat,with its furnishings and art treasures, had cost John BurkettRyder nearly ten millions of dollars. It was one of the showplaces of the town, and when the "rubber neck" wagons approachedthe Ryder mansion and the guides, through their megaphones,expatiated in awe-stricken tones on its external and hiddenbeauties, there was a general craning of vertebrae among the"seeing New York"-ers to catch a glimpse of the abode of therichest man in the world.
Only a few privileged ones were ever permitted to penetrate to theinterior of this ten-million-dollar home. Ryder was not fond ofcompany, he avoided strangers and lived in continual apprehensionof the subpoena server. Not that he feared the law, only heusually found it inconvenient to answer questions in court underoath. The explicit instructions to the servants, therefore, wereto admit no one under any pretext whatever unless the visitor hadbeen approved by the Hon. Fitzroy Bagley, Mr. Ryder's aristocraticprivate secretary, and to facilitate this preliminary inspectionthere had been installed between the library upstairs and thefront door one of those ingenious electric writing devices, suchas are used in banks, on which a name is hastily scribbled,instantly transmitted elsewhere, immediately answered and thevisitor promptly admitted or as quickly shown the door.
Indeed the house, from the street, presented many of thecharacteristics of a prison. It had massive doors behind a row ofhighly polished steel gates, which would prove as useful in caseof attempted invasion as they were now ornamental, and heavilybarred windows, while on either side of the portico were greatmarble columns hung with chains and surmounted with bronze lionsrampant. It was unusual to keep the town house open so late in thesummer, but Mr. Ryder was obliged for business reasons to be inNew York at this time, and Mrs. Ryder, who was one of the fewAmerican wives who do not always get their own way, hadgood-naturedly acquiesced in the wishes of her lord.
Jefferson did not have to ring at the paternal portal. Thesentinel within was at his post; no one could approach that doorwithout being seen and his arrival and appearance signalledupstairs. But the great man's son headed the list of theprivileged ones, so without ado the smartly dressed flunkey openedwide the doors and Jefferson was under his father's roof.
"Is my father in?" he demanded of the man.
"No, sir," was the respectful answer. "Mr. Ryder has gone outdriving, but Mr. Bagley is upstairs." Then after a brief pause headded: "Mrs. Ryder is in, too."
In this household where the personality of the mistress was socompletely overshadowed by the stronger personality of the masterthe latter's secretary was a more important personage to theservants than the unobtrusive wife.
Jefferson went up the grand staircase hung on either side withfine old portraits and rare tapestries, his feet sinking deep inthe rich velvet carpet. On the first landing was a piece ofsculptured marble of inestimable worth, seen in the soft warmlight that sifted through a great pictorial stained-glass windowoverhead, the subject representing Ajax and Ulysses contending forthe armour of Achilles. To the left of this, at the top of anotherflight leading to the library, was hung a fine full-lengthportrait of John Burkett Ryder. The ceilings here as in the lowerhall were richly gilt and adorned with paintings by famous modernartists. When he reached this floor Jefferson was about to turn tothe right and proceed direct to his mother's suite when he heard avoice near the library door. It was Mr. Bagley giving instructionsto the butler.
The Honourable Fitzroy Bagley, a younger son of a British peer,had left his country for his country's good, and in order to turnan honest penny, which he had never succeeded in doing at home, hehad entered the service of America's foremost financier, hoping togather a few of the crumbs that fell from the rich man's table anddisguising the menial nature of his position under the high-soundingtitle of private secretary. His job called for a spy and a toady andhe filled these requirements admirably. Excepting with his employer,of whom he stood in craven fear, his manner was condescendinglypatronizing to all with whom he came in contact, as if he wereanxious to impress on these American plebeians the signal honourwhich a Fitzroy, son of a British peer, did them in deigning toremain in their "blarsted" country. In Mr. Ryder's absence,therefore, he ran the house to suit himself, bullying the servantsand not infrequently issuing orders that were contradictory tothose already given by Mrs. Ryder. The latter offered no resistance,she knew he was useful to her husband and, what to her mind was astill better reason for letting him have his own way, she hadalways had the greatest reverence for the British aristocracy. Itwould have seemed to her little short of vulgarity to question theactions of anyone who spoke with such a delightful English accent.Moreover, he dressed with irreproachable taste, was an acknowledgedauthority on dinner menus and social functions and knew his Burkebackwards--altogether an accomplished and invaluable person.
Jefferson could not bear the sight of him; in fact, it was thisman's continual presence in the house that had driven him to seekrefuge elsewhere. He believed him to be a scoundrel as hecertainly was a cad. Nor was his estimate of the English secretaryfar wrong. The man, like his master, was a grafter, and theparticular graft he was after now was either to make a marriagewith a rich American girl or to so compromise her that the sameend would be attained. He was shrewd enough to realize that he hadlittle chance to get what he wanted in the open matrimonialmarket, so
he determined to attempt a raid and carry off anheiress under her father's nose, and the particular proboscis hehad selected was that of his employer's friend, Senator Roberts.The senator and Miss Roberts were frequently at the Ryder Houseand in course of time the aristocratic secretary and the daughterhad become quite intimate. A flighty girl, with no other purposein life beyond dress and amusement and having what she termed "agood time," Kate thought it excellent pastime to flirt with Mr.Bagley, and when she discovered that he was serious in hisattentions she felt flattered rather than indignant. After all,she argued, he was of noble birth. If his two brothers died hewould be peer of England, and she had enough money for both. Hemight not make a bad husband. But she was careful to keep her owncounsel and not let her father have any suspicion of what wasgoing on. She knew that his heart was set on her marryingJefferson Ryder and she knew better than anyone how impossiblethat dream was. She herself liked Jefferson quite enough to marryhim, but if his eyes were turned in another direction--and sheknew all about his attentions to Miss Rossmore--she was not goingto break her heart about it. So she continued to flirt secretlywith the Honourable Fitzroy while she still led the Ryders and herown father to think that she was interested in Jefferson.
"Jorkins," Mr. Bagley was saying to the butler, "Mr. Ryder willoccupy the library on his return. See that he is not disturbed."
"Yes, sir," replied the butler respectfully. The man turned to gowhen the secretary called him back.
"And, Jorkins, you will station another man at the front entrance.Yesterday it was left unguarded, and a man had the audacity toaddress Mr. Ryder as he was getting out of his carriage. Last weeka reporter tried to snapshot him. Mr. Ryder was furious. Thesethings must not happen again, Jorkins. I shall hold youresponsible."
"Very good, sir." The butler bowed and went downstairs. Thesecretary looked up and saw Jefferson. His face reddened and hismanner grew nervous.
"Hello! Back from Europe, Jefferson? How jolly! Your mother willbe delighted. She's in her room upstairs."
Declining to take the hint, and gathering from Bagley'sembarrassed manner that he wanted to get rid of him, Jeffersonlingered purposely. When the butler had disappeared, he said:
"This house is getting more and more like a barracks every day.You've got men all over the place. One can't move a step withoutfalling over one."
Mr. Bagley drew himself up stiffly, as he always did when assumingan air of authority.
"Your father's personality demands the utmost precaution," hereplied. "We cannot leave the life of the richest and mostpowerful financier in the world at the mercy of the rabble."
"What rabble?" inquired Jefferson, amused.
"The common rabble--the lower class--the riff-raff," explained Mr.Bagley.
"Pshaw!" laughed Jefferson. "If our financiers were only half asrespectable as the common rabble, as you call them, they wouldneed no bars to their houses."
Mr. Bagley sneered and shrugged his shoulders.
"Your father has warned me against your socialistic views." Then,with a lofty air, he added: "For four years I was third groom ofthe bedchamber to the second son of England's queen. I know myresponsibilities."
"But you are not groom of the bedchamber here," retortedJefferson.
"Whatever I am," said Mr. Bagley haughtily, "I am answerable toyour father alone."
"By the way, Bagley," asked Jefferson, "when do you expect fatherto return? I want to see him."
"I'm afraid it's quite impossible," answered the secretary withstudied insolence. "He has three important people to see beforedinner. There's the National Republican Committee and SergeantEllison of the Secret Service from Washington--all here byappointment. It's quite impossible."
"I didn't ask you if it were possible. I said I wanted to see himand I will see him," answered Jefferson quietly but firmly, and ina tone and manner which did not admit of further opposition. "I'llgo and leave word for him on his desk," he added.
He started to enter the library when the secretary, who wasvisibly perturbed, attempted to bar his way.
"There's some one in there," he said in an undertone. "Someonewaiting for your father."
"Is there?" replied Jefferson coolly. "I'll see who it is," withwhich he brushed past Mr. Bagley and entered the library.
He had guessed aright. A woman was there. It was Kate Roberts.
"Hello, Kate! how are you?" They called each other by their firstnames, having been acquainted for years, and while theirs was anindifferent kind of friendship they had always been on good terms.At one time Jefferson had even begun to think he might do what hisfather wished and marry the girl, but it was only after he had metand known Shirley Rossmore that he realized how different onewoman can be from another. Yet Kate had her good qualities. Shewas frivolous and silly as are most girls with no brains andnothing else to do in life but dress and spend money, but shemight yet be happy with some other fellow, and that was why itmade him angry to see this girl with $100,000 in her own rightplaying into the hands of an unscrupulous adventurer. He hadevidently disturbed an interesting _tete-a-tete_. He decided tosay nothing, but mentally he resolved to spoil Mr. Bagley's gameand save Kate from her own folly. On hearing his voice Kate turnedand gave a little cry of genuine surprise.
"Why, is it you, Jeff? I thought you were in Europe."
"I returned yesterday," he replied somewhat curtly. He crossedover to his father's desk where he sat down to scribble a fewwords, while Mr. Bagley, who had followed him in scowling, wasmaking frantic dumb signs to Kate.
"I fear I intrude here," said Jefferson pointedly.
"Oh, dear no, not at all," replied Kate in some confusion. "I waswaiting for my father. How is Paris?" she asked.
"Lovely as ever," he answered.
"Did you have a good time?" she inquired.
"I enjoyed it immensely. I never had a better one."
"You probably were in good company," she said significantly. Thenshe added: "I believe Miss Rossmore was in Paris."
"Yes, I think she was there," was his non-committal answer.
To change the conversation, which was becoming decidedly personal,he picked up a book that was lying on his father's desk andglanced at the title. It was "The American Octopus."
"Is father still reading this?" he asked. "He was at it when Ileft."
"Everybody is reading it," said Kate. "The book has made a bigsensation. Do you know who the hero is?"
"Who?" he asked with an air of the greatest innocence.
"Why, no less a personage than your father--John Burkett Ryderhimself! Everybody says it's he--the press and everybody that'sread it. He says so himself."
"Really?" he exclaimed with well-simulated surprise. "I must readit."
"It has made a strong impression on Mr. Ryder," chimed in Mr.Bagley. "I never knew him to be so interested in a book before.He's trying his best to find out who the author is. It's a jollywell written book and raps you American millionaires jollywell--what?"
"Whoever wrote the book," interrupted Kate, "is somebody who knowsMr. Ryder exceedingly well. There are things in it that anoutsider could not possibly know."
"Phew!" Jefferson whistled softly to himself. He was treadingdangerous ground. To conceal his embarrassment, he rose.
"If you'll excuse me, I'll go and pay my filial respects upstairs.I'll see you again," He gave Kate a friendly nod, and without evenglancing at Mr. Bagley left the room.
The couple stood in silence for a few moments after hedisappeared. Then Kate went to the door and listened to hisretreating footsteps. When she was sure that he was out of earshotshe turned on Mr. Bagley indignantly.
"You see what you expose me to. Jefferson thinks this was arendezvous."
"Well, it was to a certain extent," replied the secretaryunabashed. "Didn't you ask me to see you here?"
"Yes," said Kate, taking a letter from her bosom, "I wanted to askyou what this means?"
"My dear Miss Roberts--Kate--I"--stammered the secretary.
"How dare you a
ddress me in this manner when you know I and Mr.Ryder are engaged?"
No one knew better than Kate that this was not true, but she saidit partly out of vanity, partly out of a desire to draw out thisEnglishman who made such bold love to her.
"Miss Roberts," replied Mr. Bagley loftily, "in that note Iexpressed my admiration--my love for you. Your engagement to Mr.Jefferson Ryder is, to say the least, a most uncertain fact."There was a tinge of sarcasm in his voice that did not escapeKate.
"You must not judge from appearances," she answered, trying tokeep up the outward show of indignation which inwardly she did notfeel. "Jeff and I may hide a passion that burns like a volcano.All lovers are not demonstrative, you know."
The absurdity of this description as applied to her relations withJefferson appealed to her as so comical that she burst intolaughter in which the secretary joined.
"Then why did you remain here with me when the Senator went outwith Mr. Ryder, senior?" he demanded.
"To tell you that I cannot listen to your nonsense any longer,"retorted the girl.
"What?" he cried, incredulously. "You remain here to tell me thatyou cannot listen to me when you could easily have avoidedlistening to me without telling me so. Kate, your coldness is notconvincing."
"You mean you think I want to listen to you?" she demanded.
"I do," he answered, stepping forward as if to take her in hisarms.
"Mr. Bagley!" she exclaimed, recoiling.
"A week ago," he persisted, "you called me Fitzroy. Once, in anoutburst of confidence, you called me Fitz."
"You hadn't asked me to marry you then," she laughed mockingly.Then edging away towards the door she waved her hand at himplayfully and said teasingly: "Good-bye, Mr. Bagley, I am goingupstairs to Mrs. Ryder. I will await my father's return in herroom. I think I shall be safer."
He ran forward to intercept her, but she was too quick for him.The door slammed in his face and she was gone.
Meantime Jefferson had proceeded upstairs, passing through longand luxuriously carpeted corridors with panelled frescoed walls,and hung with grand old tapestries and splendid paintings, untilhe came to his mother's room. He knocked.
"Come in!" called out the familiar voice.
He entered. Mrs. Ryder was busy at her escritoire looking over amass of household accounts.
"Hello, mother!" he cried, running up and hugging her in hisboyish, impulsive way. Jefferson had always been devoted to hismother, and while he deplored her weakness in permitting herselfto be so completely under the domination of his father, she hadalways found him an affectionate and loving son.
"Jefferson!" she exclaimed when he released her. "My dear boy,when did you arrive?"
"Only yesterday. I slept at the studio last night. You're lookingbully, mother. How's father?"
Mrs. Ryder sighed while she looked her son over proudly. In herheart she was glad Jefferson had turned out as he had. Her boycertainly would never be a financier to be attacked in magazinesand books. Answering his question she said:
"Your father is as well as those busybodies in the newspapers willlet him be. He's considerably worried just now over that new book'The American Octopus.' How dare they make him out such a monster?He's no worse than other successful business men. He's richer,that's all, and it makes them jealous. He's out driving now withSenator Roberts. Kate is somewhere in the house--in the library, Ithink."
"Yes, I found her there," replied Jefferson dryly. "She was withthat cad, Bagley. When is father going to find that fellow out?"
"Oh, Jefferson," protested his mother, "how can you talk like thatof Mr. Bagley. He is such a perfect gentleman. His familyconnections alone should entitle him to respect. He is certainlythe best secretary your father ever had. I'm sure I don't knowwhat we should do without him. He knows everything that agentleman should."
"And a good deal more, I wager," growled Jefferson. "He wasn'tgroom of the backstairs to England's queen for nothing." Thenchanging the topic, he said suddenly: "Talking about Kate, mother,we have got to reach some definite understanding. This talk aboutmy marrying her must stop. I intend to take the matter up withfather to-day."
"Oh, of course, more trouble!" replied his mother in a resignedtone. She was so accustomed to having her wishes thwarted that shewas never surprised at anything. "We heard of your goings on inParis. That Miss Rossmore was there, was she not?"
"That has got nothing to do with it," replied Jefferson warmly. Heresented Shirley's name being dragged into the discussion. Thenmore calmly he went on: "Now, mother, be reasonable, listen. Ipurpose to live my own life. I have already shown my father that Iwill not be dictated to, and that I can earn my own living. He hasno right to force this marriage on me. There has never been anymisunderstanding on Kate's part. She and I understand each otherthoroughly."
"Well, Jefferson, you may be right from your point of view,"replied his mother weakly. She invariably ended by agreeing withthe last one who argued with her. "You are of age, of course. Yourparents have only a moral right over you. Only remember this: itwould be foolish of you to do anything now to anger your father.His interests are your interests. Don't do anything to jeopardizethem. Of course, you can't be forced to marry a girl you don'tcare for, but your father will be bitterly disappointed. He hadset his heart on this match. He knows all about your infatuationfor Miss Rossmore and it has made him furious. I suppose you'veheard about her father?"
"Yes, and it's a dastardly outrage," blurted out Jefferson. "It'sa damnable conspiracy against one of the most honourable men thatever lived, and I mean to ferret out and expose the authors. Icame here to-day to ask father to help me."
"You came to ask your father to help you?" echoed his motherincredulously.
"Why not?" demanded Jefferson. "Is it true then that he isselfishness incarnate? Wouldn't he do that much to help a friend?"
"You've come to the wrong house, Jeff. You ought to know that.Your father is far from being Judge Rossmore's friend. Surely youhave sense enough to realize that there are two reasons why hewould not raise a finger to help him. One is that he has alwaysbeen his opponent in public life, the other is that you want tomarry his daughter."
Jefferson sat as if struck dumb. He had not thought of that. Yes,it was true. His father and the father of the girl he loved weremortal enemies. How was help to be expected from the head of those"interests" which the judge had always attacked, and now he cameto think of it, perhaps his own father was really at the bottom ofthese abominable charges! He broke into a cold perspiration andhis voice was altered as he said:
"Yes, I see now, mother. You are right." Then he added bitterly:"That has always been the trouble at home. No matter where I turn,I am up against a stone wall--the money interests. One never hearsa glimmer of fellow-feeling, never a word of human sympathy, onlycold calculation, heartless reasoning, money, money, money! Oh, Iam sick of it. I don't want any of it. I am going away where I'llhear no more of it."
His mother laid her hand gently on his shoulder.
"Don't talk that way, Jefferson. Your father is not a bad man atheart, you know that. His life has been devoted to money makingand he has made a greater fortune than any man living or dead. Heis only what his life has made him. He has a good heart. And heloves you--his only son. But his business enemies--ah! those henever forgives."
Jefferson was about to reply when suddenly a dozen electric bellssounded all over the house.
"What's that?" exclaimed Jefferson, alarmed, and starting towardsthe door.
"Oh, that's nothing," smiled his mother. "We have had that put insince you went away. Your father must have just come in. Thosebells announce the fact. It was done so that if there happened tobe any strangers in the house they could be kept out of the wayuntil he reached the library safely."
"Oh," laughed Jefferson, "he's afraid some one will kidnap him?Certainly he would be a rich prize. I wouldn't care for the jobmyself, though. They'd be catching a tartar."
His speech was interrupted by a timid knock at t
he door.
"May I come in to say good-bye?" asked a voice which theyrecognized as Kate's. She had successfully escaped from Mr.Bagley's importunities and was now going home with the Senator.She smiled amiably at Jefferson and they chatted pleasantly of histrip abroad. He was sincerely sorry for this girl whom they weretrying to foist on him. Not that he thought she really cared forhim, he was well aware that hers was a nature that made itimpossible to feel very deeply on any subject, but the idea ofthis ready-made marriage was so foreign, so revolting to theAmerican mind! He thought it would be a kindness to warn heragainst Bagley.
"Don't be foolish, Kate," he said. "I was not blind just now inthe library. That man is no good."
As is usual when one's motives are suspected, the girl resentedhis interference. She knew he hated Mr. Bagley and she thought itmean of him to try and get even in this way. She stiffened up andreplied coldly:
"I think I am able to look after myself, Jefferson. Thanks, allthe same."
He shrugged his shoulders and made no reply. She said good-bye toMrs. Ryder, who was again immersed in her tradespeople bills, andleft the room, escorted by Jefferson, who accompanied herdownstairs and on to the street where Senator Roberts was waitingfor her in the open victoria. The senator greeted with unusualcordiality the young man whom he still hoped to make hisson-in-law.
"Come and see us, Jefferson," he said. "Come to dinner anyevening. We are always alone and Kate and I will be glad to seeyou."
"Jefferson has so little time now, father. His work and--hisfriends keep him pretty busy,"
Jefferson had noted both the pause and the sarcasm, but he saidnothing. He smiled and the senator raised his hat. As the carriagedrove off the young man noticed that Kate glanced at one of theupper windows where Mr. Bagley stood behind a curtain watching.Jefferson returned to the house. The psychological moment hadarrived. He must go now and confront his father in the library.
The Lion and The Mouse: A Story Of American Life Page 9
