Collected Works of Booth Tarkington

by Booth Tarkington

  “It’s a wonder to me,” the Colonel began, “that the Tocsin doesn’t go and hold Joe Louden’s hand.”

  “I’ll read the rest of it for you,” said Norbert, his heavy face lighting up with cruelty. “Let’s see — where were you? Oh yes— ‘point with pride’? ‘Our citizens may point with pride to ...’”

  Let us not linger to observe the unmanly behavior of an aged man and his grandson left alone at the breakfast-table by a defenceless woman.

  The Tocsin’s right-about-face undermined others besides Mrs. Flitcroft that morning, and rejoiced greater (though not better) men than the Colonel. Mr. Farbach and his lieutenants smiled, yet stared, amazed, wondering what had happened. That was a thing which only three people even certainly knew; yet it was very simple.

  The Tocsin was part of the Judge’s restitution.

  “The controlling interest in the paper, together with the other property I have listed,” Joe had said, studying his memoranda under the lamp in Roger’s old studio, while Martin Pike listened with his head in his hands, “make up what Miss Tabor is willing to accept. As I estimate it, their total value is between a third and a half of that of the stock which belonged to her.”

  “But this boy — this Flitcroft,” said Pike, feebly; “he might—”

  “He will do nothing,” interrupted Joe. “The case is ‘settled out of court,’ and even if he were disposed to harass you, he could hardly hope to succeed, since Miss Tabor declines either to sue or to prosecute.”

  The Judge winced at the last word. “Yes — yes, I know; but he might — he might — tell.”

  “I think Miss Tabor’s influence will prevent. If it should not — well, you’re not in a desperate case by any means; you’re involved, but far from stripped; in time you may be as sound as ever. And if Norbert tells, there’s nothing for you to do but to live it down.” A faint smile played upon Joe’s lips as he lifted his head and looked at the other. “It can be done, I think.”

  It was then that Ariel, complaining of the warmth of the evening, thought it possible that Joe might find her fan upon the porch, and as he departed, whispered hurriedly: “Judge Pike, I’m not technically in control of the Tocsin, but haven’t I the right to control its policy?”

  “I understand,” he muttered. “You mean about Louden — about this trial—”

  “That is why I have taken the paper.”

  “You want all that changed, you mean?”

  She nodded decisively. “From this instant. Before morning.”

  “Oh, well, I’ll go down there and give the word.” He rubbed his eyes wearily with big thumbs. “I’m through fighting. I’m done. Besides, what’s the use? There’s nothing more to fight.”

  “Now, Judge,” Joe said, as he came in briskly, “we’ll go over the list of that unencumbered property, if you will.”

  This unencumbered property consisted of Beaver Beach and those other belongings of the Judge which he had not dared to mortgage. Joe had somehow explained their nature to Ariel, and these with the Tocsin she had elected to accept in restitution.

  “You told me once that I ought to look after my own property, and now I will. Don’t you see?” she cried to Joe, eagerly. “It’s my work!” She resolutely set aside every other proposition; and this was the quality of mercy which Martin Pike found that night.

  There was a great crowd to hear Joe’s summing-up at the trial, and those who succeeded in getting into the court-room declared that it was worth the struggle. He did not orate, he did not “thunder at the jury,” nor did he slyly flatter them; he did not overdo the confidential, nor seem so secure of understanding beforehand what their verdict would be that they felt an instinctive desire to fool him. He talked colloquially but clearly, without appeal to the pathetic and without garnitures, not mentioning sunsets, birds, oceans, homes, the glorious old State, or the happiness of liberty; but he made everybody in the room quite sure that Happy Fear had fired the shot which killed Cory to save his own life. And that, as Mr. Bradbury remarked to the Colonel, was “what Joe was THERE for!”

  Ariel’s escort was increased to four that day: Mr. Ladew sat beside her, and there were times when Joe kept his mind entirely to the work in hand only by an effort, but he always succeeded. The sight of the pale and worshipping face of Happy Fear from the corner of his eye was enough to insure that. And people who could not get near the doors, asking those who could, “What’s he doin’ now?” were answered by variations of the one formula, “Oh, jest walkin’ away with it!”

  Once the court-room was disturbed and set in an uproar which even the Judge’s customary threat failed to subdue. Joe had been talking very rapidly, and having turned the point he was making with perfect dexterity, the jury listening eagerly, stopped for a moment to take a swallow of water. A voice rose over the low hum of the crowd in a delirious chuckle: “Why don’t somebody ‘HEAD HIM OFF!’” The room instantly rocked with laughter, under cover of which the identity of the sacrilegious chuckler was not discovered, but the voice was the voice of Buckalew, who was incredibly surprised to find that he had spoken aloud.

  The jury were “out,” after the case had been given to them, seventeen minutes and thirty seconds by the watch Claudine held in her hand. The little man, whose fate was now on the knees of the gods, looked pathetically at the foreman and then at the face of his lawyer and began to shake violently, but not with fright. He had gone to the jail on Joe’s word, as a good dog goes where his master bids, trustfully; and yet Happy had not been able to keep his mind from considering the horrible chances. “Don’t worry,” Joe had said. “It’s all right. I’ll see you through.” And he had kept his word.

  The little man was cleared.

  It took Happy a long time to get through what he had to say to his attorney in the anteroom, and even then, of course, he did not manage to put it in words, for he had “broken down” with sheer gratitude. “Why, damn ME, Joe,” he sobbed, “if ever I — if ever you — well, by God! if you ever—” This was the substance of his lingual accomplishment under the circumstances. But Claudine threw her arms around poor Joe’s neck and kissed him.

  Many people were waiting to shake hands with Joe and congratulate him. The trio, taking advantage of seats near the rail, had already done that (somewhat uproariously) before he had followed Happy, and so had Ariel and Ladew, both, necessarily, rather hurriedly. But in the corridors he found, when he came out of the anteroom, clients, acquaintances, friends: old friends, new friends, and friends he had never seen before — everybody beaming upon him and wringing his hand, as if they had been sure of it all from the start.

  “KNOW him?” said one to another. “Why, I’ve knowed him sence he was that high! SMART little feller he was, too!” This was a total stranger.

  “I said, years ago” — thus Mr. Brown, the “National House” clerk, proving his prophetic vision— “that he’d turn out to be a big man some day.”

  They gathered round him if he stopped for an instant, and crowded after him admiringly when he went on again, making his progress slow. When he finally came out of the big doors into the sunshine, there were as many people in the yard as there had been when he stood in the same place and watched the mob rushing his client’s guards. But to-day their temper was different, and as he paused a moment, looking down on the upturned, laughing faces, with a hundred jocular and congratulatory salutations shouted up at him, somebody started a cheer, and it was taken up with thunderous good-will.

  There followed the interrogation customary in such emergencies, and the anxious inquirer was informed by four or five hundred people simultaneously that Joe Louden was all right.

  “HEAD HIM OFF!” bellowed Mike Sheehan, suddenly darting up the steps. The shout increased, and with good reason, for he stepped quickly back within the doors; and, retreating through the building, made good his escape by a basement door.

  He struck off into a long detour, but though he managed to evade the crowd, he had to stop and shake hands with every t
hird person he met. As he came out upon Main Street again, he encountered his father.

  “Howdy do, Joe?” said this laconic person, and offered his hand. They shook, briefly. “Well,” he continued, rubbing his beard, “how are ye?”

  “All right, father, I think.”

  “Satisfied with the verdict?”

  “I’d be pretty hard to please if I weren’t,” Joe laughed.

  Mr. Louden rubbed his beard again. “I was there,” he said, without emotion.

  “At the trial, you mean?”

  “Yes.” He offered his hand once more, and again they shook. “Well, come around and see us,” he said.

  “Thank you. I will.”

  “Well,” said Mr. Louden, “good-day, Joe.”

  “Good-day, father.”

  The young man stood looking after him with a curious smile. Then he gave a slight start. Far up the street he saw two figures, one a lady’s, in white, with a wide white hat; the other a man’s, wearing recognizably clerical black. They seemed to be walking very slowly.

  It had been a day of triumph for Joe; but in all his life he never slept worse than he did that night.

  XXVI. ANCIENT OF DAYS

  HE WOKE TO the chiming of bells, and, as his eyes slowly opened, the sorrowful people of a dream, who seemed to be bending over him, weeping, swam back into the darkness of the night whence they had come, and returned to the imperceptible, leaving their shadows in his heart. Slowly he rose, stumbled into the outer room, and released the fluttering shade; but the sunshine, springing like a golden lover through the open window, only dazzled him, and found no answering gladness to greet it, nor joy in the royal day it heralded.

  And yet, to the newly cleaned boys on their way to midsummer morning Sunday-school, the breath of that cool August day was as sweet as stolen apples. No doubt the stir of far, green thickets and the twinkle of silver-slippered creeks shimmered in the longing vision of their minds’ eyes; even so, they were merry. But Joseph Louden, sighing as he descended his narrow stairs, with the bitterness still upon his lips of the frightful coffee he had made, heard the echo of their laughter with wonder.

  It would be an hour at least before time to start to church, when Ariel expected him; he stared absently up the street, then down, and, after that, began slowly to walk in the latter direction, with no very active consciousness, or care, of where he went. He had fallen into a profound reverie, so deep that when he had crossed the bridge and turned into a dusty road which ran along the river-bank, he stopped mechanically beside the trunk of a fallen sycamore, and, lifting his head, for the first time since he had set out, looked about him with a melancholy perplexity, a little surprised to find himself there.

  For this was the spot where he had first seen the new Ariel, and on that fallen sycamore they had sat together. “REMEMBER, ACROSS MAIN STREET BRIDGE AT NOON!” And Joe’s cheeks burned, as he recalled why he had not understood the clear voice that had haunted him. But that shame had fallen from him; she had changed all that, as she had changed so many things. He sank down in the long grass, with his back against the log, and stared out over the fields of tall corn, shaking in a steady wind all the way to the horizon.

  “Changed so many things?” he said, half aloud. “Everything!” Ah, yes, she had changed the whole world for Joseph Louden — at his first sight of her! And now it seemed to him that he was to lose her, but not in the way he had thought.

  Almost from the very first, he had the feeling that nothing so beautiful as that she should stay in Canaan could happen to him. He was sure that she was but for the little while, that her coming was like the flying petals of which he had told her.

  He had lain upon the earth; and she had lifted him up. For a moment he had felt the beatific wings enfolding him with gentle protection, and then saw them lifted to bear the angel beyond his sight. For it was incredible that the gods so loved Joe Louden that they would make greater gifts to him than this little time with her which they had granted him.

  “Changed so many things?”

  The bars that had been between him and half of his world were down, shattered, never more to be replaced; and the ban of Canaan was lifted. Could this have been, save for her? And upon that thought he got to his feet, uttering an exclamation of bitter self-reproach, asking himself angrily what he was doing. He knew how much she gave him, what full measure of her affection! Was not that enough? — Out upon you, Louden! Are you to sulk in your tent, dour in the gloom, or to play a man’s part, and if she be happy, turn a cheery face upon her joy?

  And thus this pilgrim recrossed the bridge, emerging to the street with his head up, smiling, and his shoulders thrown back so that none might see the burden he carried.

  Ariel was waiting on the porch for him. She wore the same dress she had worn that Sunday of their tryst; that exquisite dress, with the faint lavender overtint, like the tender colors of the beautiful day he made his own. She had not worn it since, and he was far distant when he caught the first flickering glimpse of her through the lower branches of the maples, but he remembered.... And again, as on that day, he heard a far-away, ineffable music, the Elf-land horns, sounding the mysterious reveille which had wakened his soul to her coming.

  She came to the gate to meet him, and gave him her hand in greeting, without a word — or the need of one — from either. Then together they set forth over the sun-flecked pavement, the maples swishing above them, heavier branches crooning in the strong breeze, under a sky like a Della Robbia background. And up against the glorious blue of it, some laughing, invisible god was blowing small, rounded clouds of pure cotton, as children blow thistledown.

  When he opened her parasol, as they came out into the broad sunshine beyond Upper Main Street, there was the faintest mingling of wild roses and cinnamon loosed on the air.

  “Joe,” she said, “I’m very happy!”

  “That’s right,” he returned, heartily. “I think you always will be.”

  “But, oh! I wish,” she went on, “that Mr. Arp could have lived to see you come down the Court-house steps.”

  “God bless him!” said Joe. “I can hear the ‘argument’!”

  “Those dear old men have been so loyal to you, Joe.”

  “No,” he returned; “loyal to Eskew.”

  “To you both,” she said. “I’m afraid the old circle is broken up; they haven’t met on the National House corner since he died. The Colonel told me he couldn’t bear to go there again.”

  “I don’t believe any of them ever will,” he returned. “And yet I never pass the place that I don’t see Eskew in his old chair. I went there last night to commune with him. I couldn’t sleep, and I got up, and went over there; they’d left the chairs out; the town was asleep, and it was beautiful moonlight—”

  “To commune with him? What about?”

  “You.”

  “Why?” she asked, plainly mystified.

  “I stood in need of good counsel,” he answered, cheerfully, “or a friendly word, perhaps, and — as I sat there — after a while it came.”

  “What was it?”

  “To forget that I was sodden with selfishness; to pretend not to be as full of meanness as I really was! Doesn’t that seem to be Eskew’s own voice?”

  “Weren’t you happy last night, Joe?”

  “Oh, it was all right,” he said, quickly. “Don’t you worry.”

  And at this old speech of his she broke into a little laugh of which he had no comprehension.

  “Mamie came to see me early this morning,” she said, after they had walked on in silence for a time. “Everything is all right with her again; that is, I think it will be. Eugene is coming home. And,” she added, thoughtfully, “it will be best for him to have his old place on the Tocsin again. She showed me his letter, and I liked it. I think he’s been through the fire—”

  Joe’s distorted smile appeared. “And has come out gold?” he asked.

  “No,” she laughed; “but nearer it! And I think he’ll try to
be more worth her caring for. She has always thought that his leaving the Tocsin in the way he did was heroic. That was her word for it. And it WAS the finest thing he ever did.”

  “I can’t figure Eugene out.” Joe shook his head. “There’s something behind his going away that I don’t understand.” This was altogether the truth; nor was there ever to come a time when either he or Mamie would understand what things had determined the departure of Eugene Bantry; though Mamie never questioned, as Joe did, the reasons for it, or doubted those Eugene had given her, which were the same he had given her father. For she was content with his return.

  Again the bells across the Square rang out their chime. The paths were decorously enlivened with family and neighborhood groups, bound churchward; and the rumble of the organ, playing the people into their pews, shook on the air. And Joe knew that he must speak quickly, if he was to say what he had planned to say, before he and Ariel went into the church.

  “Ariel?” He tried to compel his voice to a casual cheerfulness, but it would do nothing for him, except betray a desperate embarrassment.