The Barrier: A Novel

by Allen French

  CHAPTER II

  WHICH ENLARGES THE STAGE

  On the day which brought to Mather his two crushing defeats, the causeof them, Ellis, that type of modern success, openly embarked upon hislatest and his strangest venture. Not satisfied with his achievements,and burning with the desire for recognition, he, whose power wascomplete in every part of the city save one, turned to that quarterwhere alone he had met indifference, and began his campaign against thecitadel of fashion. The guests at the golf-club tea were somewhatstartled when, at the side of their latest parvenue, whose bold beautyand free ways they had not yet learned to tolerate, they perceived theman whose characteristics--a short figure and large head, thinlybearded, with sharp features and keen eyes--were known to all studentsof contemporary caricature. Ellis was received with the coolness whichhis companion had foreseen.

  "They won't like it, Stephen," she had said when he proposed theundertaking to her. "So soon after this morning, I mean; you know Mr.Mather is very popular."

  "I'll take the risk," he answered.

  "I don't see why you bother," she went on. "It's been easy enough forme, marrying the Judge, to go where I please--and yet it's a continualstruggle, after all. It isn't such fun as you'd think, from outside."

  He scowled a partial acquiescence. Living near the social leaders, ithad been an earlier hope that to be their neighbour would open to himtheir doors. He had built himself that imposing edifice upon the mainstreet of fashion, so that where the simple Georgian mansion of theWaynes had stood the Gothic gorgeousness of a French chateau forcedattention. But in spite of the money he lavished there, it had not takenEllis long to discover that the widow Wayne, who was his neighbour still(having refused to part with the original homestead of the family), hadmore honour in her little clapboarded cottage than he in his granitepile. The widow's son, who nodded so carelessly to Ellis when they met,and yet was but a broker's clerk, had with his youth and grace a morevaluable possession still--his name.

  Sometimes Ellis felt it almost too exasperating to live among thesepeople and be ignored by them, yet he gritted his teeth and stayed,thinking that perseverance must win in the end, and perceiving that fromthe midst of his enemies he might best plan his campaign. He spun hiswebs with unconquerable patience, studying the social news with the samekeenness which he brought to the stock-market reports, and looking aheadto a possible combination which would give him the opportunity hedesired. And now he believed that at last he actually saw his chance,and his hopes were rising.

  "Maybe I'm a fool," he said, "but by Gad I'll at least have one lookinside, and see what others find there. I notice that you worked hardenough to get in, and now you work to stay. But, Lydia, if you want tokeep these people to yourself----"

  "The idea!" she cried. "You are welcome to them."

  "Or if you think I shall hurt your position----" He paused for a seconddisclaimer, but none came; his directness had confused her, and he knewhe had struck near the truth. "Anyhow," he finished, "you promised methis long ago, and I'll keep you to the bargain."

  Now she, the maker of this promise to Ellis, was the wife of Judge AbielHarmon, whose ancient family, high position, and fine character wereeverywhere honoured. Nevertheless, Ellis was able to regard her as hisentering wedge, for they had been boy and girl together in the samelittle town. While yet in his teens he went to try his chances in thecity; years afterward, when her ripe charms had captivated the oldJudge, she found her fortune and followed. When she met Ellis againtheir social positions were widely different, but interest drew the twotogether, and though the Judge had no liking for Ellis, he did notinquire what Mrs. Harmon did with her leisure; therefore she maintainedwith the promoter an intimacy which to them both promised profit. To himthe first advantage was this visit to the golf club, but while oninspection of the crowd he knew he could buy up any member of it at afair valuation, they did not appear to like him the better for that, andtheir groups melted marvellously before him. As a relief, Mrs. Harmontook him to the club-house, but the dreary promenade through its rooms,where her vocabulary was exhausted and her enthusiasm lapsed, became atlast an evident failure. When she had said all that she could of theconveniences of the lower floor she led him to the stairs.

  "If you care to go up," she suggested, "the bedrooms might interestyou."

  But she looked out on the lawn through the open door, and longed to bethere. The chattering groups called to every instinct of her nature; shewished to get rid of this encumbrance--to hand him over to any one andtake her pleasure as she was used. And Ellis, too, looked out throughthe doorway.

  "Up-stairs is more likely to be stupid," he said bluntly. "Let's gooutdoors again."

  In Mrs. Harmon's relief, she did not notice the characteristic which hedisplayed in this answer. Ellis was a fighter; power was all very well,but the winning of it was better. Just now he was like Alexander beforeIndia--looking upon a domain which must be his, and eager for thestruggle. These people, and they alone, could put the capstone to thepyramid of his successes, and could lend glamour, if not give glory, tothat wholly material structure. He would force them to it! Watchingsociety disport itself, he regarded it as his natural prey. Thatassemblage was characterised by a suavity which deceived him; as heviewed the throng it seemed all mildness, all amiability. He did notappreciate the power of resistance of the apparently soft people.

  And yet he had learned that money was not the effective weapon he hadonce supposed it. The arrogance of possession was against him, andthough he did not understand the subtle reasons for his exclusion, hewas sure that something besides a golden key was needed to open thosedoors.

  It was not in Ellis to remake himself, nor did he try to change hisways. As when he faced the difficulty of buying the city government, hemerely studied human weaknesses. The former experience had taught himthat men are easier bribed without money than with, and that there aresome passions, some ambitions, which do not include financial ease.Moreover, he had formed his plan; it was time to make the attempt.

  "Miss Judith Blanchard--she is here?" he asked.

  Mrs. Harmon looked at him in surprise. Did he wish to meet a girl? Sofar she had conducted the enterprise, and since their entrance on thegrounds had tried to help him by introductions to the older people. Butthe experiment had failed, and he had no intention of repeating it.

  "Why, she is here," she answered in doubt.

  "Then introduce me to her," he directed brusquely.

  Oh, if he wished! Mrs. Harmon was not pleased to be so ordered; she wasnot at all satisfied with her day. It was very troublesome, this tryingto introduce Ellis. The manner of Mrs. Watson had been more distant thanever, while as for Mrs. William Fenno, her behaviour had been arctic.Mrs. Harmon cared for no further snubs, but if Ellis wished to run therisk of the meeting--well, Judith would fix him! Not pausing to watchthe process, Mrs. Harmon presented Ellis to the young lady and escapedto her own enjoyments.

  Ellis was where he had many times imagined himself, standing beforeJudith Blanchard, while the young men fell away on either side. He wasmeeting her glance, he was seeing for himself the "queenly form," the"regal head" (_vide_ the social columns of the _Herald_), and he wasexperiencing at close hand the influence of her personality. It wasmagnetic even to him, for on hearing his name she turned quickly, lookedhim straight in the eye, and offered him her hand almost as a man wouldhave done. When she spoke her voice had not the artificial tones of thewomen he had so far met; it had a genuine ring.

  "So you are Mr. Ellis?"

  "You know of me, then?" he asked.

  "Every one has heard of you, even girls," she replied. Any one mighthave said this, but not with her look, not with that bright glance. Sheasked another question, which showed to those who listened her interestin the man. "You have settled the water-works affair?"

  John Trask turned and strolled away; Will Mayne bowed to Miss Blanchardand silently betook himself elsewhere; Ripley Fenno mumbled a request tobe excused, and left Miss Blanchard alone with he
r new acquaintance.Within five minutes, five times as many people were watching the paircuriously, but absorbed in a new interest, they did not notice.

  "What do you know," he asked her, "about the water-works?"

  But she pursued her own inquiries. "Or does the street-railway not takeup your time? Or perhaps," she added boldly, "the court-house has noneed of the services of its contractor."

  Now the boldness of this last remark consisted in the reminder of acertain scandal, public-minded citizens (of whom the chief was JudgeHarmon) claiming that there had been boodlery in the recent repairs ofthe court-house. It was more than hinted that Ellis had backed thecontractors, and that he had shared the profits. His face changed,therefore, as she spoke, and she saw in his eyes a sudden gleam--ofanger?

  "Or," she asked quickly, "have I misread the papers, and you are not thecontractor, after all?"

  He was himself again, although looking--staring, almost--with deeperinterest. At first he said no more than "I am not the contractor," butto himself he was crying: Success! He believed she had provoked himdeliberately; he saw that she had studied his doings, for thecourt-house affair was almost a year old, the water-works deal occurredmonths ago, and the street-railway _coup_ was of this very day.

  "How much you know of matters!" he cried.

  "I read the newspapers," she explained, "and with an object."

  "An object?" he asked.

  "I want to know what is going on," she explained. "I want to have to dowith real things. I am interested in the doings of _men_, Mr. Ellis."And she made him a little bow, which he, still staring, made no attemptto answer. Then she turned, and walked toward a more open space wherepeople could not, as they were beginning to do, press around them. "Willyou not come and see the grounds?" she asked. In great satisfaction hekept at her side.

  So this was Judith Blanchard! He had not believed it, had laughed athimself for hoping it, but she was what he had imagined her. Months ofstudy had gone to make up his opinion of her; he had read of her, heardof her, watched her. Quick, impetuous, somewhat impatient ofconventions--that was Judith.

  "Do you know," she asked suddenly, "that we have met before? In astreet-car, not a fortnight ago, we rode facing each other for quite awhile. I remember meeting your eye."

  He had recalled it many times. "I hope I didn't look too much at you,"he said. "You must be used to having people watch you."

  "Oh, please don't compliment," she interrupted, "or you will spoil myidea of you. I imagine you a man who thinks to the point, and speaks so,too. Yes, people do watch me wherever I go; they give me flattery, andthink I love it. But if you and I are to be friends----"

  "Friends!" he exclaimed involuntarily.

  "Are you not willing?"

  "Willing!" he repeated. "Miss Blanchard, you offer what I had not daredto hope one person here would think of in connection with me. I----" Helooked at her searchingly. "You are not teasing me?"

  "I used a strong word," she said.

  "Then you did not mean it?"

  "Why," she endeavoured to explain, "I spoke hastily. I have fewfriends."

  "Few friends? You?"

  "Yes, I," she answered. "Among the men, I mean. Those of my age areso"--and she smiled--"so young! I am not posing, Mr. Ellis."

  Nor was she. Her interest in the great world was genuine, even ifill-balanced. Ruled by it, she looked into men and discovered, not howmuch there was in them, but how little they had for her. The good, theamiable, the well-intentioned, had none of them enough backbone to suither; it was power that she wished to find. Always among respectablepeople, she was often impatient at their mediocrity; always among youngpeople, she was tired by their immaturity. This day she had for thefirst time questioned if older people of another class had not more forher; she had been repeating the question at the moment when Ellis waspresented. And now, without pose, she scrutinised him with frankquestion: Was he one who could bring an interest into her life and lether see the workings of the world?

  And he knew she was not posing. "It is sometimes troublesome to befriends with people," he said. "To be bound to them, to haveconsiderations of them prevent free action--that is what friends mean inbusiness."

  "And you have few, as well?"

  "I have dependents."

  He spoke wisely, for the term struck her. Dependents! She had feltisolation, but it was that of the looker-on. There was something regalin this man's loneliness, for that he was lonely she divined.

  "People need you," she said with approval. "They cannot get alongwithout you. Oh!" she exclaimed, "I have sometimes thought what power isin the hands of such men as you. You can mould a whole community; youcan set your mark on a city so that it will tell of you forever." Behinda steady face he concealed astonishment and question. "You can do somuch good!" she finished.

  "Much good--yes," he returned uncertainly. Such enthusiasm was new tohim, especially when applied to what the opposition newspapers bluntlycalled "jobs." He perceived that where he saw only money in hisenterprises, Judith saw great opportunities. "Yes, much good--if we canonly do it. Where there is power there is also responsibility. How can aman know whether he is doing the right thing, especially"--and hesmiled--"when all the newspapers say he is doing wrong?"

  "A man must follow his conscience," she replied, so gravely that he wasuncomfortable, for, thus innocently spoken, her words carried a sting.He tried to finish the subject, and by his usual method--by meeting itdirectly.

  "A man works as he can," he said, "doing what seems best. He has tothink of the present, but as you seem to know, he works for the futuretoo. It is an interesting life and a busy one."

  "Interesting?" she echoed. "Oh, it must be! Why should it not beall-sufficient? Why should you come here?" He stared at her again, andshe asked: "What have we that can interest you?"

  He answered with a simplicity that was almost great, an acknowledgmentof his desires which was unparalleled in his career, but which meantthat without hesitation he put himself in her hands, to betray if shewished, but perhaps to save. He waved his hand toward the groups behindhim.

  "I want to get in," he said.

  "To get in?" She smiled, and he doubted. "To get in, when I sometimeswish to get out? In here it's so dull!"

  "I don't care for that," he replied.

  "Sit down, then," she directed. "Let us talk it over."

  Seated on a bench, half-facing, each had a moment to consider. She didnot take it; he did, for he was beginning to recover himself and tostudy her. Beauty and grace, with that direct glance and genuine voice,were her chief outward characteristics. Of her inward motives, mostprominent appeared her desire for something new; more strong, perhaps,was her interest in matters beyond her sphere. This interest of hers wasto him a gift of fortune; it might bring him anywhere. But to Judiththis situation was new; therefore she enjoyed it. She paused no longerthan to consider what she should ask him next, and then pursued thesubject.

  "How have you meant to go about it?" she inquired.

  "Why," he hesitated, "my friends----"

  "What friends?"

  He acknowledged frankly: "I have but one--Mrs. Harmon."

  "Oh, only Mrs. Harmon?"

  Only! The tone and the word struck him. Was Mrs. Harmon, then, not fullyin? His mind reached forward blankly: who else could help him?

  "But you must know some of our men," she suggested.

  "Business acquaintances, yes," he said. "Yet they take care that I shallremain a business acquaintance merely. No, I must reach the men throughthe women."

  "And the women?" she asked. "How will you reach them? Mrs. Fenno, forinstance, knows only one kind; she is iron against innovation. How willyou get on her list, or Mrs. Watson's, or Mrs. Branderson's?"

  He did not answer. She saw that he was biting on the problem, and thatit did not please him. She made a positive statement.

  "No. It is the men you must rely on."

  And he, weighing the facts, believed her, though it went against hisformer notions. The
women--this day he had first seen them at closequarters, and had felt them to be formidable creatures. The severemajesty of Mrs. Fenno--how could he impress it? And Mrs. Branderson had,beneath the good humour of her reception of him, the skill to chateasily, and then to turn her back without excuse. He bit hismustache--the women!

  She was watching him with a half-smile. "Do you not agree?"

  "But which men, then?" he inquired.

  "Have you no influence over a single one?"

  "There is young Mather," he said thoughtfully.

  Her manner changed; she drew a little more within herself, and he notedthe difference in her tone as she asked: "You have some connection withhim?"

  "None," he said. "But I can help him."

  "How?"

  "He is out of work," Ellis explained. "He will be fretting his heart outfor something to do. I could offer him some position."

  "Do!" she said. "He is right here.--George!" she called.