The Wide House

by Caldwell, Taylor;

  If her body was beautiful, her face was no less so, and Stuart stared at it, completely dumfounded. It was oval and sculptured, with fragile planes of extreme delicacy and flawlessness, and quite pale. But her mouth, full, yet not wide, was like a dark sweet plum, and her large brilliant eyes were of an astonishing golden shade, vivid and radiant, darkening and welling in the midst of thick black lashes, like golden fire. Her nose was short and almost translucent, with nostrils delectably flaring. Her hair, thick, black, shining and without the slightest curl was drawn back from her low broad forehead and pearl-studded ears into a thick chignon at the base of her white neck.

  So blinding was her beauty that it hid, like a dazzling light, any hint as to her character. It was impossible to tell what kind of spirit lived behind all this loveliness and perfection. She was static. Even the golden fire of her eyes did not betray a single clue. It was like the pulsing of stars, which did not reveal any quality at all. So it was that for almost everyone, even her father, she possessed a quality of mysteriousness and remoteness.

  Old Joshua saw the stupefaction of Stuart. He was not displeased. He grinned wryly under his long vulture’s beak of a nose. His egotism and his passion for his daughter were invariably exalted when he saw the effect she had upon others, as though she were a cherished objet d’art of his which he had brought from far places and set up to display. When the servants looked at her with awed admiration, he was not affronted. From the lowest and the highest he expected, almost demanded, astonishing worship.

  So it was that he sat there in his chair, bent and withered, almost palsied, like an emaciated gray spider, his knotted hands folded on his cane, his evil gray eyes narrowed and glinting as he gloatingly enjoyed to the full all Stuart’s manifestations of frozen incredulity. He was a little man, almost a head shorter than his daughter, and so afflicted with rheumatism, so twisted by the wrackings of his shrunken flesh and bone, that he could not walk without his cane, and then in only a creeping and sliding manner, bent and huddled. He made a slipping, slithering sound when he walked, and that sound, approaching down the corridors of banks or in the houses he infrequently entered in the company of his daughter, struck a strange and shivering terror to the hearts of those who heard. He had a narrow face, like a “gray flounder,” to quote Stuart, but it was topped off by an amazing round dome of a skull, large and full, and like polished gray stone. His expression, wry, sardonic, wicked, sometimes quickened to a frightful alacrity whenever he was enraged or wickedly amused, or plotting newer profits or rascality, or when he contemplated the helpless struggles of his victims, who were many.

  Joshua Allstairs had been married when he was over fifty, to a frightened little girl of much beauty from Philadelphia, whose father was hopelessly in Joshua’s debt. The child had lived only a month after the birth of her little daughter, and had expired on one last relieved gasp of joyous escape. Now Joshua was in his seventies. But age had only increased the evil in his soul, and his sinister machinations.

  He dressed in gray, with touches of silver, which accentuated his spider-like attributes of mind and body. His horrible house was like a motionless and stony great shell with him living at its heart like a vigilant bright pulse of malignance, sleeplessly watching and menacing and without mercy.

  This then, was the power of Grandeville. Even the cities of New York, Boston, Philadelphia and Chicago knew of him, and hated him, and feared him.

  “Sit down, sit down, Mr. Coleman,” he said, testily, after he had glutted himself on Stuart’s dumb amazement. He regarded his daughter, hesitated, then looked again at Stuart. His glance was like a glittering thrown knife. It was always his custom to dismiss Marvina whenever strangers arrived. But he was in a mood, tonight, for amusement. It would be diverting to watch the complete enslavement of Stuart. So he touched his daughter gently but firmly with his withered hand, and she sank speechlessly again into her chair. Stuart, moving as if he were numbed, lowered himself also into the chair Joshua indicated. The two young people continued to stare at each other in a kind of bewitchment.

  Joshua lifted his shoulders so high that they almost reached his ears. He pressed his chin on the hands folded on his cane. He regarded Stuart almost with cunning affection.

  “Well, now, and how is our wonderful shop, eh?” His voice, thin but malign, was filled with cackling indulgence.

  “Splendid. Splendid,” murmured Stuart, hoarsely, not looking away from Miss Marvina. What beauty! What devastating beauty! His heart was not touched. He was only blinded. Nor were his passions and desires aroused by the girl, no more than if she had been a painted portrait of incredible loveliness.

  His thoughts were confused. He suddenly saw, with his inner eye, a floating white staircase, curling upwards like a light and marble ribbon, and down this staircase drifted Miss Marvina in a silver gown like moonlight, every motion and gesture bright and fluid as flowing silver. The picture was so exquisite that he felt a pang. Now his heart was beating with great rapidity. Such a picture was foreordained to come to pass, he believed in his confusion. Nothing could interfere with it. It was appropriate; it was finished. Now his pulses were suffocating in their speed and pounding. But still his heart was not touched, nor his desire, except for a wild determination that he must have his house and that staircase, and Miss Marvina drifting down it to complete it.

  Joshua’s eyes narowed glintingly. So, this beefy and bold young man had been jarred, had he? This impious and profane devil with his colorful wardrobes and his debts and his gambling and his trollops? Joshua furtively licked his lips, hunched his bony shoulders higher in his gray coat. Let him look at Marvina. It was as far as he would get.

  “You’ll have some tea, or some fresh cider?” he asked. “As you know, my dear Stuart, we serve no spirits in this house, and no wine.”

  Stuart turned to him, dazedly. He stared at Joshua a long time. “No, thank you,” he said, somewhat hoarsely. His struggles with himself were evident. He drew himself up rigidly in his chair, pressed his lips together tight. They had become somewhat pale. Now they were grim, and there was a look in his eye of vivid hardness and determination. He said: “Thank you, sir.”

  Joshua glanced at his daughter. And then he scowled, shifted his body uneasily. What had come over the girl? She was regarding Stuart steadfastly, her lips parted, her eyes full of dreaming tawny light. What the devil!

  Ah, no wonder she looked like this. She had never seen so much flamboyance and vigor before in her life. Stupid child. She must be shown, without delay, that under all this vitality and zest and coarse life was the most infantile mind possible, and the most reckless and imbecile. She must be shown what a fool was this, a fantastic and heedless fool. Later, she would laugh deliciously with her father.

  Stuart was determined not to look at Marvina again till he had accomplished his purpose. He dared not look at her. He lifted his black head challengingly and fixed his eyes upon Joshua.

  Joshua turned smilingly to his dreaming daughter. “My dear,” he said, fondly, “you must visit Mr. Coleman’s remarkable shop, or, I should say, Mr. Coleman’s shops. Most remarkable! We are quite proud of the Grandeville Supreme Emporium, and endlessly astounded at it.”

  The girl turned her head slowly to her father. She appeared asleep, though her eyes were wide. “Yes,” she murmured, and the white hands clasped in her lap tightened together.

  “You will remember, my dear, that we passed these—shops, on our way home from church yesterday. You were quite diverted by them, you will recall.”

  The girl was silent. She looked only at Stuart, and Stuart looked only at Joshua. The grimness had increased on his face, and the darkness. Now his forehead glistened faintly, though the chill of the room had not lessened.

  “Astounding, astounding,” murmured Joshua, and he chuckled deeply in his corded throat. Then he raised a knotted finger and shook it archly at Stuart, and grinned. “But there is a limit to astonishment, eh? There is a time to conserve?”

  His
bushy gray eyebrows, so startling in contrast with the polished gray expanse that loomed above them, tilted diabolically over his malevolent eyes. Stuart, gazing at him, felt his pulses slow to a sick pounding. He never looked at this man without loathing, without senseless fear, and involuntary hatred. Yet his muscles tightened with increased obstinacy.

  “I presume, sir, that you are referring to the mortgage you hold on the last three shops? You have been receiving your interest promptly, I believe?”

  Joshua shrugged, lifted one of his folded hands a little from his cane, dropped it. “Ah, yes, most certainly. I have had no complaints from the bank. I have nothing to reproach you with, my dear Stuart.” He coughed gently. “You will forgive me for my paternal interest, will you not? I have always been deeply interested in your bold enterprises, and have admired them. Nevertheless, there have been some moments of uneasiness. ‘Is this young man expanding beyond his ability to absorb the investment?’ I have asked myself. So far, so good. I am proud of you, my boy. You will forgive an old man’s concern, will you not?”

  Stuart was silent for a few moments. But he regarded Joshua with that dangerous but helpless loathing. Now his face became darker than ever. He said, without expression: “Thank you, Mr. Allstairs.”

  Joshua inclined his head humbly. “I may be wrong, and sometimes too officious, but the welfare of my young friends is always close to my heart.”

  “Also, your money, sir,” said Stuart, unable to control the blunt and insolent words.

  Joshua was delighted. He looked sidelong at his daughter. The pale ivory of her cheek had colored a little. Ah, then, she had felt a stir of indignation, had she?

  “Money,” sighed the old man, tilting his head sideways. “The root of all evil, as the Good Book says. But I have a duty to my depositors.”

  You damned, psalm-singing old swine, thought Stuart, passionately. But this time he held his tongue. He was conscious of Miss Marvina’s regard, like electric fire, though he did not turn to her.

  “I have discovered the hardest thing in this melancholy life of ours,” said Mr. Allstairs, in a sad and meditative tone. “It is the reconciling of the demands of the world with one’s conscience. One must compromise, one must always compromise. One must render unto Caesar the things which are Caesar’s, and unto God the things which are God’s.”

  Such as your profits from a brothel, thought Stuart. He compressed his mouth even tighter. But in spite of his silence, there was a dark and violent tension about him, and Joshua, who was very subtle, felt it, and understood it. He was more and more delighted. So, the fool would not be goaded into some devastating remark, would he?

  “Nevertheless, it is hard,” mused Joshua, sadly, and he dropped his head with a pathetic gesture. “Sometimes, one must be firm, in the face of the most urgent implorings. Such as for extension of credit from farmers and tradesmen. One is faced, on the one hand, with the touching prayers of those who cannot meet their notes, and on the other hand, with the trust of one’s depositors. How to compromise? What to do?”

  “I trust,” said Stuart, with vicious irony, “that I shall never force such an afflicting need for decision upon you, sir.”

  “I hope not, I hope not,” sighed Joshua, almost in a tender whisper. “I should not know what to do. I should be forced to take my decision to the knees of God, and humbly pray for a solution.”

  Stuart’s gorge rose so that he almost choked with rage and disgust. His strong brown hands clenched. Momentarily, he forgot Miss Marvina in his desire to smash this evil pious thing.

  Joshua regarded him tenderly. “You comprehend me fully, do you not, Stuart? Only a faithful man could do what you are hoping to do: build a church for our esteemed—er—Papist, Mr. Houlihan.”

  Stuart said, in a pent tone: “‘Father Houlihan,’ I believe it is, sir.”

  Joshua carefully laced his fingers together, and balanced the neat tent on the head of his cane. “My dear boy, will you forgive me if I again urge you to visit my church, and partake of the comfort of the service, and the consolation of the Gospel?”

  Stuart drew a deep breath. His black eyes were glowing. “Mr. Allstairs, I will go anywhere with you, even down into hell, if you will listen consentingly to what I have to propose to you.”

  At these astonishing and heedless words, Joshua turned to his daughter. He looked at her closely, as he said to Stuart in a voice of rebuke and sorrow: “I must remind you, sir, that there is a young female present, and I do not care for your oaths in her presence.”

  Marvina had turned very white. She had dropped her head, and her father could not see her face. But he could see that she was trembling. It was enough for him.

  Stuart stood up. In agitation and fury, he exclaimed: “Sir! I present my apologies to your daughter. If she desires, I will conduct her from the room. But I have no more time to waste.”

  Joshua lifted his hand. “I am certain that Miss Marvina has forgiven you, my boy. Let us not speak of it again. I am also certain that Miss Marvina understands. She has already forgiven you your Irish blood, and your associations with a heathen Papist. Is that not so, my dear?”

  There came the faintest sound from Marvina. Then she lifted her head, turned it away from the two men, and stared fixedly at the fire.

  “I judge no man,” said Joshua, in a soft but awful voice, “for that is not within my province. I leave that to God.”

  “And very good of you, sir,” replied Stuart bitterly, completely disorganized now. “The Almighty must be grateful for such condescension.”

  He was a shrewd man, and now he cursed himself, as usual. He saw very clearly that he had played into this fiend’s hands completely. But just at this moment he could not care. He cried: “Will you, or will you not, sir, allow me to present an urgent matter to you?”

  Joshua was silent. He regarded Stuart with a sweet fond smile. “My dear boy, do sit down. You quite disturb me standing so, with your hand clutching the back of your chair. But, you see, I am lonely. It is very rarely that I have an opportunity to discuss matters close to my heart with a friend.”

  Stuart, almost blinded with disgust and rage, sat down again, stiffly, and panted a little. His strongest impulse was to roar a few choice curses at Joshua, but expediency, coming to his belated rescue, quelled him. Nevertheless, waves of heat and violence flowed from him. He said: “Shall I get to the point, sir, and cease wasting your time?”

  Though he was now extremely doubtful that his request would be granted, his determination that it should was all the stronger.

  “Do proceed, dear Stuart,” said Joshua, with a royal wave of his hand.

  “I want a loan. Of ten thousand dollars,” said Stuart, getting out the words with great abruptness, and savagery.

  CHAPTER 11

  It was one thing to bait Stuart so that his hot and foolhardy Irish temper might display itself to his humiliation and disaster, and it was quite another to discuss business matters with him when Joshua might have to display his own cupidity and ruthlessness, to his daughter’s bewilderment, and perhaps distress.

  Joshua had never spoken to his daughter of any of his affairs. She was never to know that the money which purchased her the finest pearls and satins and furs and carriages and jewels and finishing schools came from brothels, usury, foreclosed farms, ruined little shops and businesses, and the slums of the growing city. He took advantage, therefore, of the old convention that females had no capacity to understand the intricacies of finance, that they were overpowered by them, and had no interests beyond their toilettes and their homes and their families.

  Accordingly, he smiled with the utmost paternal sweetness at Stuart, and said, softly: “Ten thousand dollars, eh? A most precipitous young man! Ah, my dear boy. Well, we must discuss this, must we not?”

  He turned to Miss Marvina, and said gently: “My dear, may I ask you to retire so that Mr. Coleman and I might talk very tedious business?”

  Stuart understood, and did not repress his dark wi
de smile. He got up promptly, however, and bowed to the uncertain young lady. She rose, as gracefully as a dove rises into the air, and a deep blush ran over her cheeks and neck. She glanced silently at her father, who was painfully rising to his feet. She was evidently much confused. She bent and kissed Joshua’s cheek, and her beautiful hands fluttered a little. He returned her kiss, and patted her cheek. “Good night, my love,” he said, and for a moment there was a strange bright flash upon his gray face and in his evil eyes.

  She turned toward the door. Stuart quickly went to her side and conducted her to the threshold of the hall. There he bowed to her again. She was very tall. Her eyes were only a little below his, as she lifted them slowly in a sweep of black lashes. He was very close to her now, and could see the living translucence of her pearly flesh, and the very red pulsing of her lips. And now for the first time he desired her. The golden light of her eyes dazzled him. He felt heat sweep over his senses, and heard a drumming in his ears. He looked deeply into that wide golden fire between the lashes, and then at the faint division of her breasts which showed above the line of her low bodice. He thought it was innocence that gazed out at him in such shining confusion and silence. He did not yet know it was only emptiness.

  She colored again, so that even her ears glowed scarlet, and then she bowed her head and turned away. He watched her go. He saw her mount like a bird, flowing and sinuous, up the enormous oak and marble staircase, her hand on the banister, her silvery gray skirts floating behind her. She passed a lamp, and it glimmered brilliantly on the smooth blackness of her coiled hair. She did not look back, but she moved very slowly, with infinite and indescribable grace, knowing he watched her. It was only when the last flutter of her train had passed from his sight that he could turn away.