CHAPTER XIII
Shirley entered upon her new duties in the Ryder household two dayslater. She had returned to her rooms the evening of her meeting withthe financier in a state bordering upon hysteria. The day's events hadbeen so extraordinary that it seemed to her they could not be real, andthat she must be in a dream. The car ride to Seventy-fourth Street, theinterview in the library, the discovery of her father's letters, theoffer to write the biography, and, what to her was still moreimportant, the invitation to go and live in the Ryder home--all theseincidents were so remarkable and unusual that it was only withdifficulty that the girl persuaded herself that they were not figmentsof a disordered brain.
But it was all true enough. The next morning's mail brought a letterfrom Mrs. Ryder, who wrote to the effect that Mr. Ryder would like thework to begin at once, and adding that a suite of rooms would be readyfor her the following afternoon. Shirley did not hesitate. Everythingwas to be gained by making the Ryder residence her headquarters, herfather's very life depended upon the successful outcome of her presentmission, and this unhoped for opportunity practically ensured success.She immediately wrote to Massapequa. One letter was to her mother,saying that she was extending her visit beyond the time originallyplanned. The other letter was to Stott. She told him all about theinterview with Ryder, informed him of the discovery of the letters, andafter explaining the nature of the work offered to her, said that heraddress for the next few weeks would be in care of John Burkett Ryder.All was going better than she had dared to hope. Everything seemed tofavour their plan. Her first step, of course, while in the Ryder home,would be to secure possession of her father's letters, and these shewould dispatch at once to Massapequa, so they could be laid before theSenate without delay.
So, after settling accounts with her landlady and packing up her fewbelongings, Shirley lost no time in transferring herself to the moreluxurious quarters provided for her in the ten-million-dollar mansionuptown.
At the Ryder house she was received cordially and with every mark ofconsideration. The housekeeper came down to the main hall to greet herwhen she arrived and escorted her to the suite of rooms, comprising asmall working library, a bedroom simply but daintily furnished in pinkand white and a private bathroom, which had been specially prepared forher convenience and comfort, and here presently she was joined by Mrs.Ryder.
"Dear me," exclaimed the financier's wife, staring curiously atShirley, "what a young girl you are to have made such a stir with abook! How did you do it? I'm sure I couldn't. It's as much as I can doto write a letter, and half the time that's not legible."
"Oh, it wasn't so hard," laughed Shirley. "It was the subject thatappealed rather than any special skill of mine. The trusts and theirmisdeeds are the favourite topics of the hour. The whole country istalking about nothing else. My book came at the right time, that's all."
Although "The American Octopus" was a direct attack on her own husband,Mrs. Ryder secretly admired this young woman, who had dared to speak afew blunt truths. It was a courage which, alas! she had always lackedherself, but there was a certain satisfaction in knowing there werewomen in the world not entirely cowed by the tyrant Man.
"I have always wanted a daughter," went on Mrs. Ryder, becomingconfidential, while Shirley removed her things and made herself athome; "girls of your age are so companionable." Then, abruptly, sheasked: "Do your parents live in New York?"
Shirley's face flushed and she stooped over her trunk to hide herembarrassment.
"No--not at present," she answered evasively. "My mother and father arein the country."
She was afraid that more questions of a personal nature would follow,but apparently Mrs. Ryder was not in an inquisitive mood, for she askednothing further. She only said:
"I have a son, but I don't see much of him. You must meet my Jefferson.He is such a nice boy."
Shirley tried to look unconcerned as she replied:
"I met him yesterday. Mr. Ryder introduced him to me."
"Poor lad, he has his troubles too," went on Mrs. Ryder. "He's in lovewith a girl, but his father wants him to marry someone else. They'requarrelling over it all the time."
"Parents shouldn't interfere in matters of the heart," said Shirleydecisively. "What is more serious than the choosing of a lifecompanion, and who are better entitled to make a free selection thanthey who are going to spend the rest of their days together? Of course,it is a father's duty to give his son the benefit of his riperexperience, but to insist on a marriage based only on businessinterests is little less than a crime. There are considerations moreimportant if the union is to be a happy or a lasting one. The chiefthing is that the man should feel real attachment for the woman hemarries. Two people who are to live together as man and wife must becompatible in tastes and temper. You cannot mix oil and water. It isthese selfish marriages which keep our divorce courts busy. Money alonewon't buy happiness in marriage."
"No," sighed Mrs. Ryder, "no one knows that better than I."
The financier's wife was already most favourably impressed with herguest, and she chatted on as if she had known Shirley for years. It wasrarely that she had heard so young a woman express such common-senseviews, and the more she talked with her the less surprised she was thatshe was the author of a much-discussed book. Finally, thinking thatShirley might prefer to be alone, she rose to go, bidding her makeherself thoroughly at home and to ring for anything she might wish. Amaid had been assigned to look exclusively after her wants, and shecould have her meals served in her room or else have them with thefamily as she liked. But Shirley, not caring to encounter Mr. Ryder'scold, searching stare more often than necessary, said she would preferto take her meals alone.
Left to herself, Shirley settled down to work in earnest. Mr. Ryder hadsent to her room all the material for the biography, and soon she wascompletely absorbed in the task of sorting and arranging letters,making extracts from records, compiling data, etc., laying thefoundations for the important book she was to write. She wondered whatthey would call it, and she smiled as a peculiarly appropriate titleflashed through her mind--"The History of a Crime." Yet she thoughtthey could hardly infringe on Victor Hugo; perhaps the best title wasthe simplest "The History of the Empire Trading Company." Everyonewould understand that it told the story of John Burkett Ryder'sremarkable career from his earliest beginnings to the present time. Sheworked feverishly all that evening getting the material into shape, andthe following day found her early at her desk. No one disturbed her andshe wrote steadily on until noon, Mrs. Ryder only once putting her headin the door to wish her good morning.
After luncheon, Shirley decided that the weather was too glorious toremain indoors. Her health must not be jeopardized even to advance theinterests of the Colossus, so she put on her hat and left the house togo for a walk. The air smelled sweet to her after being confined solong indoor, and she walked with a more elastic and buoyant step thanshe had since her return home. Turning down Fifth Avenue, she enteredthe park at Seventy-second Street, following the pathway until she cameto the bend in the driveway opposite the Casino. The park was almostdeserted at that hour, and there was a delightful sense of solitude anda sweet scent of new-mown hay from the freshly cut lawns. She found anempty bench, well shaded by an overspreading tree, and she sat down,grateful for the rest and quiet.
She wondered what Jefferson thought of her action in coming to hisfather's house practically in disguise and under an assumed name. Shemust see him at once, for in him lay her hope of obtaining possessionof the letters. Certainly she felt no delicacy or compunction in askingJefferson to do her this service. The letters belonged to her fatherand they were being wrongfully withheld with the deliberate purpose ofdoing him an injury. She had a moral if not a legal right to recoverthe letters in any way that she could.
She was so deeply engrossed in her thoughts that she had not noticed ahansom cab which suddenly drew up with a jerk at the curb opposite herbench. A man jumped out. It was Jefferson.
"Hello, Shirley," he cri
ed gaily; "who would have expected to find yourusticating on a bench here? I pictured you grinding away at home doingliterary stunts for the governor." He grinned and then added: "Come fora drive. I want to talk to you."
Shirley demurred. No, she could not spare the time. Yet, she thought toherself, why was not this a good opportunity to explain to Jeffersonhow he came to find her in his father's library masquerading underanother name, and also to ask him to secure the letters for her? Whileshe pondered Jefferson insisted, and a few minutes later she foundherself sitting beside him in the cab. They started off at a briskpace, Shirley sitting with her head back, enjoying the strong breezecaused by the rapid motion.
"Now tell me," he said, "what does it all mean? I was so startled atseeing you in the library the other day that I almost betrayed you. Howdid you come to call on father?"
Briefly Shirley explained everything. She told him how Mr. Ryder hadwritten to her asking her to call and see him, and how she had eagerlyseized at this last straw in the hope of helping her father, She toldhim about the letters, explaining how necessary they were for herfather's defence and how she had discovered them. Mr. Ryder, she said,had seemed to take a fancy to her and had asked her to remain in thehouse as his guest while she was compiling his biography, and she hadaccepted the offer, not so much for the amount of money involved as forthe splendid opportunity it afforded her to gain possession of theletters.
"So that is the mysterious work you spoke of--to get those letters?"said Jefferson.
"Yes, that is my mission. It was a secret. I couldn't tell you; Icouldn't tell anyone. Only Judge Stott knows. He is aware I have foundthem and is hourly expecting to receive them from me. And now," shesaid, "I want your help."
His only answer was to grasp tighter the hand she had laid in his. Sheknew that she would not have to explain the nature of the service shewanted. He understood.
"Where are the letters?" he demanded.
"In the left-hand drawer of your father's desk," she answered.
He was silent for a few moments, and then he said simply:
"I will get them."
The cab by this time had got as far as Claremont, and from the hillsummit they had a splendid view of the broad sweep of the majesticHudson and the towering walls of the blue palisades. The day was sobeautiful and the air so invigorating that Jefferson suggested a ramblealong the banks of the river. They could leave the cab at Claremont anddrive back to the city later. Shirley was too grateful to him for hispromise of cooperation to make any further opposition, and soon theywere far away from beaten highways, down on the banks of the historicstream, picking flowers and laughing merrily like two truant childrenbent on a self-made holiday. The place they had reached was justoutside the northern boundaries of Harlem, a sylvan spot stillunspoiled by the rude invasion of the flat-house builder. The land,thickly wooded, sloped down sharply to the water, and the perfect quietwas broken only by the washing of the tiny surf against the river bankand the shrill notes of the birds in the trees.
Although it was late in October the day was warm, and Shirley soontired of climbing over bramble-entangled verdure. The rich grassunderfoot looked cool and inviting, and the natural slope of the groundaffording an ideal resting-place, she sat there, with Jeffersonstretched out at her feet, both watching idly the dancing waters of thebroad Hudson, spangled with gleams of light, as they swept swiftly byon their journey to the sea.
"Shirley," said Jefferson suddenly, "I suppose you saw that ridiculousstory about my alleged engagement to Miss Roberts. I hope youunderstood that it was done without my consent."
"If I did not guess it, Jeff," she answered, "your assurance would besufficient. Besides," she added, "what right have I to object?"
"But I want you to have the right," he replied earnestly. "I'm going tostop this Roberts nonsense in a way my father hardly anticipates. I'mjust waiting a chance to talk to him. I'll show him the absurdity ofannouncing me engaged to a girl who is about to elope with his privatesecretary!"
"Elope with the secretary?" exclaimed Shirley.
Jefferson told her all about the letter he had found on the staircase,and the Hon. Fitzroy Bagley's plans for a runaway marriage with thesenator's wealthy daughter.
"It's a godsend to me," he said gleefully. "Their plan is to getmarried next Wednesday. I'll see my father on Tuesday; I'll put theevidence in his hands, and I don't think," he added grimly, "he'llbother me any more about Miss Roberts."
"So you're not going away now?" said Shirley, smiling down at him.
He sat up and leaned over towards her.
"I can't, Shirley, I simply can't," he replied, his voice trembling."You are more to me than I dreamed a woman could ever be. I realize itmore forcibly every day. There is no use fighting against it. Withoutyou, my work, my life means nothing."
Shirley shook her head and averted her eyes.
"Don't let us speak of that, Jeff," she pleaded gently. "I told you Idid not belong to myself while my father was in peril."
"But I must speak of it," he interrupted. "Shirley, you do yourself aninjustice as well as me. You are not indifferent to me--I feel that.Then why raise this barrier between us?"
A soft light stole into the girl's eyes. Ah, it was good to feel therewas someone to whom she was everything in the world!
"Don't ask me to betray my trust, Jeff," she faltered. "You know I amnot indifferent to you--far from it. But I--"
He came closer until his face nearly touched hers.
"I love you--I want you," he murmured feverishly. "Give me the right toclaim you before all the world as my future wife!"
Every note of his rich, manly voice, vibrating with impetuous passion,sounded in Shirley's ear like a soft caress. She closed her eyes. Astrange feeling of languor was stealing over her, a mysterious thrillpassed through her whole body. The eternal, inevitable sex instinct wasdisturbing, for the first time, a woman whose life had been singularlyfree from such influences, putting to flight all the calculations andresolves her cooler judgment had made. The sensuous charm of theplace--the distant splash of the water, the singing of the birds, thefragrance of the trees and grass--all these symbols of the joy of lifeconspired to arouse the love-hunger of the woman. Why, after all,should she not know happiness like other women? She had a sacred dutyto perform, it was true; but would it be less well done because shedeclined to stifle the natural leanings of her womanhood? Both her souland her body called out: "Let this man love you, give yourself to him,he is worthy of your love."
Half unconsciously, she listened to his ardent wooing, her eyes shut,as he spoke quickly, passionately, his breath warm upon her cheek:
"Shirley, I offer you all the devotion a man can give a woman. Say theone word that will make me the happiest or the most wretched of men.Yes or no! Only think well before you wreck my life. I love you--I loveyou! I will wait for you if need be until the crack of doom. Say--sayyou will be my wife!"
She opened her eyes. His face was bent close over hers. Their lipsalmost touched.
"Yes, Jefferson," she murmured, "I do love you!" His lips met hers in along, passionate kiss. Her eyes closed and an ecstatic thrill seemed toconvulse her entire being. The birds in the trees overhead sang in morejoyful chorus in celebration of the betrothal.
The Lion and the Mouse; a Story of an American Life Page 15
