The Opened Shutters: A Novel

  CHAPTER XXXII

  A SOFTENED BLOW

  The scanty sunshine of another New England winter had fallen on the inkstains in the offices of Calvin Trent, and spring had come again.

  Brave little green twigs approached the window and looked curiously inat the occupants of the two neighboring desks, and the younger mansometimes returned their challenging with speculative and not unhappyeyes.

  One morning in early June John found in the mail a letter for JudgeTrent, which he passed across to the other desk, unopened.

  "'M, h'm," commented the judge, taking it, "another hymn of praise fromSylvia, I suppose."

  He regarded the envelope meditatively. "That girl has worked well,Dunham."

  "The Keenes say so," returned John. "They're greatly interested inher."

  "Edna has been her good angel, for sure, in all this business," saidthe lawyer.

  "I thought you were the angel in the affair."

  "Edna was the power behind me. She persisted until I was glad to buypeace. She's been indefatigable, that girl: found the right place forSylvia to live, and kept an eye to her all winter, introduced her tothe right people, often had her in her home. She's a brick, EdnaDerwent is. Something more than style and fuss and feathers about her.Yes, Boy, you think I don't see anything; but do you suppose I haven'ttaken notice of the way you've mooned around the last month? Do yousuppose I'd have overlooked your tearing up that deed last week, andputting us to all the extra trouble, if it had been on anybody'saccount but Edna's? Do you suppose I'd have let you go to Boston twiceas often as was necessary, if I hadn't approved? Yes, _sir_." Thespeaker struck his desk, with a sharp snap of Sylvia's letter. "I_approve_. If a man must marry, let him accomplish something by it.None of this Tennyson village maid business. Let him find a girl withmoney and position and the right sort of connections that will do himsome good and give him a lift in the world. Marriage ought to have somefrosting besides what's on the wedding cake. Folks dream on that, andvery appropriately. It's the stuff dreams are made of, in more sensesthan one; and after that flimsiness is over, there ought to besomething substantial left. Just as many attractive girls who havesomething as that haven't. It's sheer perversity when a poor young mansets his heart on additional poverty. Let the Cophetuas have a corneron the beggar maids; but let poor men, and especially young lawyers,get busy elsewhere."

  At the beginning of this tirade John had looked up in surprise. At itsclose he was smiling meditatively at the dingy wall.

  "Poor men, even young lawyers, have their pride," he remarked, when thejudge had finished.

  "Stuff and nonsense. That's another false standard set up by the poets.You're an orphan, John, nobody nearer, as I understand it, than anuncle or an aunt here and there, and that's one reason I'm talking toyou like a father. Another reason is that you've been a trump in yourrelations with me. You've served me well; but besides that, I haven'tbeen insensible to the civility you've shown Sylvia. You've scarcelyever been in Boston without looking in on her and bringing me thelatest bulletin. Do you suppose I haven't appreciated how often you andEdna have added her to the outings you've had together, theatres, andconcerts, and all that business? Very expensive, and very bad judgment,all that, if it hadn't been justified by such an end in view as Ednaherself. Now, you take it from me: I've lived a good deal longer thanyou, and I've seen a host of folks get married, even if I haven't gotin the game myself; and when a rich woman wants a man, it's blindfoolishness to keep her waiting while he builds up his bank account.Let him build it up afterward. No law against that. I've observed anumber of signs, Boy, that show that your habits and tastes areextravagant; then the more reason that you should act, and actpromptly."

  A laugh escaped Dunham. "Has it come to this!" he returned. "I neverexpected you to urge me in this direction."

  The judge made an expansive gesture. "Simply because I expect you'llmarry anyway, and Edna Derwents don't grow on every bush. Can't youunderstand? Of course, I don't know much about your finances, really."

  "Is that the whole question?" asked Dunham. "If I didn't need a banker,should you be reminding me that a young man married is a man that'smarred, and all that sort of thing?"

  "No,"--the judge shrugged his little shoulders. "Things have gone toofar for that." He began to cut open his niece's letter. "After yourtearing up that deed, I'm not the man to waste my energy."

  He leaned back in his chair, and began to read the letter.

  Dunham endeavored to fix his attention on his work; but the corners ofthe judge's lips were drawing down, and once John thought he started.The silk hat was pushed to the last extremity of the back of his head;and once he slowly turned and cast a look at his assistant. Dunham,like a schoolboy discovered in idleness, cleared his throat and beganmaking an ostentatious stir among his papers.

  When Judge Trent finally folded the letter his face wore an expressionthat few had seen upon it. His eyes fastened on a spot upon his desk,while his thoughts wrestled.

  Once again he stole a look at Dunham's profile, and there was a queerstirring at his heart. With sudden determination he rose, and, movingover to the other desk, stood behind John's chair and rested both hisbony hands on the broad shoulders.

  "I've had a blow, my boy," he said, and his voice was husky.

  Dunham swung around and half rose. "Sylvia! Has something happened?" heejaculated.

  "No, no, John. I could almost say I wish it were a worse blow for methan for you."

  The young man settled down again, his back to the judge, whose nervousclutch seemed to desire to hold him in this position. "It's strange itshould come just now, when we had but just been talking on the subject.Edna--I'm afraid Edna's lost to you, Boy."

  Dunham remained with his elbow on his desk, where he had rested itafter Judge Trent's startling introduction. The latter waited a moment,regarding the back of the other's head. "Sylvia says Edna's engagementis to be announced at a dinner to-night."

  "Edna engaged?"

  "Yes, and to a Britisher." Judge Trent's subdued tone suddenly becameviolent. "How long has she had him on her string? She hasn't treatedyou right, John; or else it's your own fault, and you've shilly-shalliedtoo long with your confounded notions of honor. Which is it?"

  Dunham remained silent and motionless; and his shock and grief acted asa quietus on the older man's belligerency. "Forgive me, Boy. This isn'tany time to haul you over the coals. It seems it isn't any itch for atitle in Edna's case. The fellow hasn't any handle to his name, and hehas money--or pretends to have. Sylvia says she's very happy."

  "She deserves to be," said Dunham.

  "She doesn't. She's a simpleton; and worse, for she's been leading youon."

  "No, she hasn't, Judge Trent."

  "Oh, of course you'll always swear to that. Let it happen thirty yearshence to your son, and you'll call things by their right names."

  Dunham heard the affection for himself in the strained voice, and heturned slowly around and smiled up into his partisan's lean, excitedface, with eyes that again gave the judge an unaccustomed sensation.

  "You've been a dunce, Boy. Why didn't you get busy at the island lastsummer, after all your talk about adoration? You could have got her. Idon't believe you've half tried."

  John still smiled as he replied quietly, "No. I haven't half tried."

  The judge scowled his amazement. "Why not, then?" he demanded, when hecould speak.

  Dunham hesitated a moment before he answered, "Because I saw thatneither of us wished it."

  Judge Trent glared at him during a short silence. "What are you mooningabout, then?" he burst forth at last. "What are you tearing up deedsfor? Why aren't you worth your salt?"

  Dunham colored under the vigorous arraignment.

  "Oh, you're a mind-reader all right, Judge Trent. You didn't guesswrong."

  "You're in love?" snarled the lawyer angrily.

  John nodded.

  "Who is it?" explosively.

  "Don't you think I'd better wait and see if I
can get her?"

  "_Tss!_" hissed the judge in unspeakable scorn. He went back to hischair and sat down, still holding the other's eyes with an angry stare."You know you haven't any doubt that you'll get her."

  "Yes, I have. Many. There was a time--but that's passed. She isdistressingly interested in other things."

  "Any money?" asked the judge.

  "No."

  "Have you, then?"

  Dunham nodded. He saw a ripple of surprise pass over the sharp faceopposite.

  "What sort of connections has she?"

  John smiled. "Well, some of them think very well of themselves."

  "H'm. That might be. Are they the sort that could be of any use toyou?"

  "Why, yes. The most cocksure of them all can do a lot for me if helikes."

  Judge Trent shook his head. "Go slow, Boy. It's easier to get into thatnoose than out of it."

  "Why, you complained that I went too slow in the case of Edna."

  "Yes, yes, indeed. There you would have had the best possible chances."The judge sighed. "You've missed your life-opportunity; now becautious."

  "You haven't seen Sylvia since she did up her hair, have you?"

  The digression was so sharp and unexpected, Judge Trent winked, andcame slowly back from his dejection.

  "Hair?" he repeated, vaguely. "I shouldn't know whether she did up herhair or not. It's short, still, isn't it? How could she?"

  "She puts a tight elastic, or ribbon, or something, around it, right atthe crown. It makes a lot of little waves and curls that tumblearound--well, just right."

  Judge Trent blinked slowly toward the rather tense face.

  "She's going up to the farm next week," he said.

  "I know she is," replied Dunham. "So am I. She doesn't know it. I'mgoing to surprise her. I haven't asked if you could spare me. You'llhave to."

  Judge Trent's mouth fell slightly open. Presently he swung his chairaround to his desk and began mechanically to examine and separate somepapers which he took from a rubber band. Certain ones he tore and threwthem into the wastebasket, returned others to a pigeonhole, and all ina businesslike rush, as if to make up for the time he had been wasting.

  At last a strange look overspread his face. The blood rushed to it.Again he took off a rubber band and ran his eyes over the variouspapers. Then he scowled, and, snatching up the wastebasket, fished outthe top scraps. He regarded them aghast. Presently a sound rang throughthat office which had never resounded in Dunham's time. Judge Trentlaughed loud and long.

  "Boy, I'll have to confess it," he said, as John looked up inquestioning amazement. "I've torn up that new deed we made out." Helaughed again, and Dunham joined him in a spontaneous burst.

  "Who are _you_ in love with, Judge Trent?" he asked.

  "You, I guess," returned the lawyer, bluntly. He rose and came again tothe younger man's side, and the excitement in his face showed now asgravity.

  "John," he said, "is it Sylvia?"

  Dunham rose. "Yes, it's Sylvia," he answered.

  Their hands met in a strenuous clasp.

  "You young fool," said the judge after a minute, "is that where youwere philandering when you ought to have been courting Edna?"

  "You've guessed right again."

  The judge's thin hand clung to the young, firm one, and he tried invain to hold his lips steady.

  "But Sylvia has started on a career. I'm told she paints excellentminiatures."

  "I want her to paint mine the rest of her life," said Dunham. "I don'tknow what she'll say; but--haven't I your blessing, Judge?"

  The lawyer shook the hand he clasped.

  "You're a great fool, John," he said tenderly. "You don't know enoughto"--he paused, and, dropping John's hand, hurried from the office,slamming the door behind him.