by Leroy Scott
CHAPTER XI
A LOVE THAT PERSEVERED
Lillian Drew, as she had said, was not as high as she once was; soDavid, after making plain to her his poverty, managed to put her offwith fifteen dollars--though for this amount she refused to turn overthe letters. Before giving her the money he asked if she had kept secrether knowledge of Morton, and her answer was such as to leave him nofear. "This kind of thing is the same as money in the bank; telling itis simply throwing money away."
After he had paid her, and she had gone, he fell meditating upon thisnew phase of his situation. She would soon come again, he knew that--andhis slender savings could not outlast many visits. When his money wasgone and she still made demands, what then, if the ending of the dealwas not fortunate?
And, now that he was quieter, the irony of this new phase of hissituation began to thrust itself into him. Here he was, forced to paymoney that the world might continue to believe him a thief! He laughedharshly, as the point struck home. He and Rogers were a pair, weren'tthey!--the great fear of one that he might be found out to be a thief,the great fear of the other that he might be found out not to be athief. What would Helen Chambers think if she knew that not only was hetrying to pay a debt he did not owe, but that he was paying to retainthat debt?
Presently Rogers came in and they started for lunch, first leaving anote that would send Kate Morgan on a long errand so as to have theoffice clear for a conference with the Mayor in the afternoon. As theypassed through the hall they brushed by Jimmie Morgan, who hastilyslipped a bottle into his pocket. The experiment with Kate's father hadnot been successful. David had advised Rogers to discharge him, butRogers, while admitting that to do so seemed a necessity, said that itwould be as well to wait two or three weeks, when the end of the landdeal would send them all away. David needed no one to tell him that whatkept the father in his place was the fear of the daughter'sdisappointment.
An hour later David and Rogers, accompanied by the Mayor, re-entered theoffice, and the three plunged into a discussion of matters relating tothe deal. After a time the Mayor asked:
"Chambers ain't showed his hand in this thing at all yet, has he?"
"No," said Rogers.
"I s'pose he's savin' himself for the finishin' touches. He's like thischap Dumas that wrote them stories I used to like to read. He's got somany things goin' on together, he's only got time to hand out theoriginal order and then take the credit when it's done. But say--did yousee the way the Reverend What-d'you-call-him jumped on him this mornin'in the papers? No? You didn't. Well, it was about that hundred andfifty thousand he's tryin' to give to help found a seminary for makin'missionaries. The preacher ordered his church not to cast even onelongin' look at the coin. He said it was devil's money, and said it wasdiseased with dishonesty, and mentioned several deals that Chambers hadgot people into, and left 'em on the sandy beach with nothin' but theskin God'd give 'em. Oh, he gave Chambers what was comin' to him! Me, Iain't never seen a diseased dollar that when it come to buyin', wasn'tabout as able to be up and doin' as any other dollar--but, all the same,I say hurrah for the preacher."
The dozen or more times David had been with Mr. Chambers he had met himsocially, and he remembered him as a man of broad reading and interest,and of unfailing courtesy. David could not adjust his picture of the manto the characterisations he sometimes saw in the papers and magazines,and to the occasional vituperative outbursts of which that morning's wasa fair example. So he now said with considerable heat:
"I certainly do not believe in the centralisation of such vast wealth inone man's purse, but, the rules of the game being as they are, I can'tsay that I have much sympathy with those persons who call a man a thiefmerely because he has the genius to accumulate it!"
"And neither do I, friend," said the Mayor soothingly. "If there's anygent I don't press agin my bosom, it's a sorehead. But I know aboutChambers!--you set that down!" He paused for a moment, then askedmeditatively: "I suppose Miss Chambers don't believe any o' themstories?"
"She believes the stories spring either from jealousy, orvindictiveness, or from a totally mistaken impression of her father."
"I thought she must look at him about that way." The Mayor noddedthoughtfully. "D'you know, I've thought more'n once about her and herfather. She's about as fine as they're turned out--that's the way I sizeher up. Conscience to burn. Mebbe some o' these days she'll find outjust what her old man's really like. Well, when she finds out, what'sshe goin' to do? That's what I've wondered at. Somethin' may happen--butI don't know. Blood's mighty thick, and when it's thickened withmoney--well, sir, it certainly does hold people mighty close together!"
David quickly shifted the conversation back to business. They were allagreed that success seemed a certainty.
Rogers turned his large bright eyes from one to the other. "There's onlyone danger of failure I can see."
"And that?" said David.
"If they find out I'm Red Thorpe."
"How'll they learn you're Red Thorpe?" The Mayor dismissed the matterwith a wave of a great hand. "No danger at all."
"I suppose not. But I've been fearing this for ten years, and now thatmy work is coming to its climax I can't help fearing it more than ever."
"Two more weeks and you'll be on your way to Colorado," the Mayorassured him. "By-the-bye, have you had an answer yet from thatsanitarium at Colorado Springs?"
"Yes. This morning. I want to show it to you; it's in the other room."
Rogers walked over the strip of carpet through the open door into theliving room. The next instant David and the Mayor heard his strainedvoice demand:
"What're you doing here?"
They both hurried to the door. On Rogers's couch lay Jimmie Morgan. Thehalf-swept floor, the broom leaning against a chair, and the breath ofthe bottle, combined to tell the story of Morgan's presence.
"What're you doing here?" Rogers demanded, his thin fingers clutchingthe old man's shoulder.
Morgan rose blinking to his elbows, then slipped to his feet.
"Sweepin'," he said with a grin.
"Why weren't you doing it then?"
"I must 'a' had failure o' the heart and just keeled over," explainedMorgan, still grinning amiably.
The Mayor sniffed the air. "Yes, smells exactly like heart failure."
"Yes, it was my heart," said old Jimmie, more firmly, and he began tosweep with unsteady energy.
Rogers, rigidly erect, watched him in fearing suspicion for a space,then said, "Finish a little later," and led him through the other doorof the room into the hall. When the door had closed Rogers leaned weaklyagainst it.
"What's the matter?" cried David.
"D'you think he heard what we said about Red Thorpe?"
"Him!" said the Mayor. "Didn't you bump your nose agin his breath?Hear?--nothin'! He was dead to the world!"
"He didn't hear me come up," returned Rogers with tense quiet. "When Isaw him first his eyes were open."
"Are you sure?" asked David.
"Wide open. He snapped them shut when he saw me."
They looked at each other in apprehension, which the Mayor was first tothrow off. "He probably didn't hear nothin'. And if he did, I bet hedidn't understand. And if he did understand, what's he likely to do?Nothin'. You've been a friend to him and his girl, and he ain't goin' todo you no dirt. Anyhow, in a week or two it'll all be over and you'll bepointed toward Colorado."
They heard Kate enter the office and they broke off. The Mayor,remarking that he had to go, drew David out into the hall.
"He dreams o' troubles--I've got 'em," the Mayor whispered. "I asked herto fix the weddin' day last night. She'd been leadin' up to it so much Icouldn't put off askin' any longer. And o' course I had to ask it to besoon--oh, I've got to play the part, you know! Did she put it away offin the comfortable distance? Not her! She said she could get ready in amonth. Now what d'you think o' that? Who ever heard of a woman gettin'ready in a month! She said since I seemed so anxious she'd make it fourweeks from yes
terday. Only twenty-seven more days!
"And say, you remember all them lies I told her about myself when I wastryin' to scare her off. Well, she's already begun to throw my past inmy face! Rogers there, he dreams o' troubles--but, oh Lord, wouldn't Ilike to trade!"
With a dolorous sigh the Mayor departed and David went into the office.As he sat down at his desk Kate Morgan looked sharp questions athim--questions concerning Lillian Drew. She did not speak her questionsthat afternoon, but they had planned a walk for the evening and theywere hardly in the street when the questions began to come. David wasinstantly aware that the Kate Morgan beside him was the Kate Morgan of ayear ago, whose impulses were instantly actions and whose emotions wereinstantly words.
"Who was that woman this morning?" she demanded.
"Her name is Lillian Drew."
He offered her his arm, but she roughly refused it.
"Who is she?"
"I know little of her; I have spoken to her but once before," heanswered evasively.
But in thinking he could parry her with evasion, he had forgotten herold persistent directness. "I know better--you know a great deal abouther! And she has something to do with you. Do you suppose I didn't seethat in a second this morning?"
David looked with dismay down on the tense face the light fromshop-windows revealed to him. He saw that she had to be answered withfacts or blank refusals, and he studied for a moment how much of thefirst he could give her.
"Except for one glimpse of her in the street I haven't seen her for fiveyears--" he was beginning guardedly, when she broke in with,
"That was just before you were sent away?"
"Yes."
Like a flash came her next question. "And it was for her you stole themoney? She got the five thousand dollars?"
He was fairly staggered. "I cannot say," he returned.
She quickly moved a step ahead, and looked straight up into his face."A-a-h!" she breathed. "So that's it!"
"I tell you that, except for a mere glimpse the other day, I never sawher but once before in my life; and that before that time I had nevereven heard the name; and that, since then, I had never heard of her orseen her till to-day."
Her gaze fairly pierced to his inner self. "You wouldn't lie to me--Iknow that," she said abruptly. "But she's got some hold on you; shemeans something in your life--don't she?"
"I've told you all I can tell you," David answered firmly.
She exploded. "I hate her! You hear me?--I hate her!"
He did not answer, and they walked on to the eastward in silence,through streets effervescent with playing children. In Tompkin's Squarethey sat down on one of the benches which edged both sides of thecurving walks and which were filled with husbands, wives, lovers, Germanand Jewish and Magyar, who had come out for an hour or two of the softOctober air. David tried to draw Kate into casual conversation, but sheremained silent, and soon they rose and walked on. After several blocksthe window of a delicatessen store showed him she was more composed,and he again offered her his arm. She now took it.
Presently they saw the gleam of water at the end of the street, andcontinuing they came out upon a dock. It was crowded with trucks, andagainst its one side creakingly rubbed a scow loaded with ashes andagainst its other a scow ridged high with empty tin cans. Sitting in thetails of some of the trucks were parlourless lovers--their courtshipflanked by garbage, presided over by the odour of stables. They did notbreak their embraces as David and Kate brushed by them and passed on tothe end of the dock.
Kate sank upon the heavy end timber and gazed at the surging tide-riverthat swept along under the moonlight. It came to David, who leanedagainst a snubbing-post at her side, that this was the very dock onwhich he had stood on New Year's eve; and half his mind was thinking ofthe hopelessness of that night and of the bitter days preceding it, whena whispered "David" reached up to him.
He glanced down. The moon, which dropped full into her face, revealed nohardness--showed appealing eyes and a mouth that rippled at its corners.
"What is it?" he asked.
"I hate her--yes." Her voice flamed slightly up with its old fire, butit immediately subsided into tremulous appeal. "But I had no right totalk to you like I did. I can't brag about what I've been, you know."
"There, let's say no more about it," he said gently.
"Yes, I must. I've been thinking about myself while we were walkingalong. Thinking of your past isn't always pleasant, is it, when there'sso much of it that don't suit you. But I've wanted to improve, and I'vetried. Do you think I've improved, a little--David?"
The wistful voice drew his hand upon her shoulder.
"I wish I had grown as much!" he breathed.
She pressed his hand an instant to her cheek, then rose and peered upinto his face. "Do you say that!" she said eagerly. "If I've tried toimprove--you know why."
He looked quickly from her tremulous face, out upon the million-facetedriver. He writhed at the pain she must be feeling now, or would some dayfeel, and was abased that he was its cause.
"Oh, why did things have to happen so!" he exclaimed in a whisper.
"What happen?"
"That you should want--to please me."
She did not speak at once, but her hand locked tightly upon his arm andhe felt her eyes burning into him. At length she whispered, in a voicetaut with emotion:
"Then you still care--for _her_?"
He nodded.
She was again silent, but the locked grip told him of her tensity.
"But she's impossible to you. She lives in another world. You stillbelieve this?"
"Yes."
Silence. "And I'm still next?"
"Yes."
"And do you like me any less than you did at first?"
He looked back upon her impulsively, and caught her hands.
"This is a miserable affair, Kate!" he cried. "Can't we forget it--wipeit out--and be just friends?"
"Do you like me any less than you did at first?" she repeated.
"More!"
Her next words tumbled out breathlessly. "I'll keep on improving--you'lllike me more and more--and then--!"
Her impetuous force fairly dazed him.
"Ah, David!" she whispered almost fiercely, gripping his hands, "youcan't guess how I love you!"
He could not bear her passionate eyes, they pained him so--and he lookedback across the river to where a blast furnace was thrusting its redfangs upward into the night. There was a silence, broken only by themonotonous chatter of the ripples among the piles below. Then she wenton, still tense, but quieter, and slightly meditative.
"Nor how differently I love you. Sometimes there is a tiger in me, and Icould kill anyone that stood between us. And then again I'm not the sameperson; I want first of all what is the best thing for you. When I feelthis way I would do almost anything for you, David. I think"--her voicedwindled to the barest whisper--"I think I could almost give you up."
