Jane Cable

  Mr. Clegg was not long in convincing Graydon that his propositionto him was sincere and not the outgrowth of sentiment. A dozen menin the office greeted Graydon with a warmth that had an upliftingeffect. He went away with a heart lighter than he had once imaginedit could ever be again. In two weeks he was to be in absolutecontrol of the New York branch; he assured the firm that his physicalcondition was such that he could go to work at once, if necessary.

  As he hastened to the Annex, misgivings again entered into his soul.The newspapers had heralded his return and had hinted broadly atromantic developments in connection with Miss Cable, "who is atthe Annex with Mr. and Mrs. Cable." There were brief references tothe causes which sent both of them to the Philippines, find thatwas all.

  Without hesitation, he came to the point by asking if she knew whathad befallen his father. Jane had heard the news the night before.He thereupon put the whole situation before her just as it hadbeen suggested in Droom's ironical remark. It was not until afterthe question had been passed upon by Mr. and Mrs. Cable thatshe reluctantly consented to visit Graydon's father--solely forthe purpose of gleaning what information she could regarding herparentage.

  They left the next day with Elias Droom, depressed, nervous, dreadingthe hour ahead of them. Neither was in the mood to respond to theeager, excited remarks of the old clerk. The short railroad tripwas one never to be forgotten; impressions were left in their livesthat could not be effaced.

  James Bansemer, shorn and striped, was not expecting visitors. Hewas surprised and angry when he was told that visitors were waitingto see him. For four weeks he had laboured clumsily and sourly inthe shoe factory of the great prison, a hauler and carrier. Histall figure was bent with unusual toil, his hands were sore and hisheart was full of the canker of rebellion. Already, in that shorttime, his face had taken on the look of the convict. All theviciousness in his nature had gone to his face and settled there.He had the sullen, dogged, patient look of the man who has a numberbut no name.

  The once dignified, aggressive walk had degenerated into a slouch;he shuffled as he came to the bars where he was to meet his firstvisitors. He was not pleased but he was curious. Down in his hearthe found a hope that his attorney had come with good news. It wasnot until he was almost face to face with his son that he realisedwho it was; not until then that he felt the full force of shame,ignominy, loathing for himself.

  He started back with an involuntary oath and would have slunkaway had not Graydon called out to him--called out in a voice fullof pain and misery. The convict's face was ashen and his jaw hungloose with the paralysis of dismay; his heart dropped like a chunkof ice, his feet were as leaden weights. A look of utter despaircame into his hard eyes as he slowly advanced to the bars.

  "My God, Graydon, why did you come? Why did you come here?" hemuttered. Then he caught sight of Jane and Elias Droom. His eyesdropped and his fingers twitched; to save his life he could nothave kept his lower lip from trembling nor the burning tears fromhis eyes. His humiliation was complete.

  A malevolent grin was on Droom's face; his staring blue eyes lookedwith a great joy upon the shamed, beaten man in the stripes. Theone thing that he had longed for and cherished had come to pass;he had lived to see James Bansemer utterly destroyed even in hisown eyes.

  "Father, I can't believe it. I can't tell you how it hurts me.I would willingly take your place if it were possible. Forgive mefor deserting you--" Graydon was saying incoherently when his fatherlifted his face suddenly, a fierce, horrified look of understandingin the eyes that flashed upon Elias Droom. Even as he clasped hisson's hand in the bitterness of small joy, his lips curled intoa snarl of fury. Droom's eyes shifted instantly, his uneasy gazedirecting itself as usual above the head of its victim.

  "You did this, curse you!" came from the convict's livid lips. "Andthis girl, too! Good God, you knew I would rather have died thanto meet Graydon as I am now. You knew it and you brought him here.I hope you will rot in hell for this, Elias Droom. She comes here,too, to gloat--to rejoice--to see how I look before my son inprison stripes!" He went on violently for a long stretch, endingwith a sob of rage. "I suppose you are satisfied," he said hoarselyto Droom.

  Graydon and Jane looked on in surprise and distress. Droom's gazedid not swerve nor his expression change.

  "Father, didn't you expect me to come?" asked Graydon. "Don't youwant to see me?"

  "Not here. Why should I have tried to keep you from returning tothis country? God knows how I hoped and prayed that you'd not seeme here. Elias Droom knew it. That's why he brought you here. Don'tlie to me, Droom. I know it!"

  "What could you expect?" mumbled Droom. "Down in your heart youwanted to see him. I've done you a kindness."

  "For which I'll repay you some day," cried the prisoner, a steadylook in his eyes. "Now go away, all of you! I'm through with you.You've seen me. The girl is satisfied. Go--"

  "Nonsense, father," cried Graydon, visibly distressed by his father'sanguish. "Elias said that you wanted to see us. Jane did not comeout of curiosity. She is here to ask justice of you; she's notseeking vengeance."

  "I'll talk to you alone," said the prisoner shortly. "Send heraway. I've nothing to say to her or Droom."

  Jane turned and walked swiftly away, followed by Droom, who rubbedhis long fingers together and tried to look sympathetic. The interviewthat ensued between father and son was never to be forgotten byeither. Graydon heard his father's bitter story in awed silence;heard him curse deeply and vindictively; heard all this and marvelledat the new and heretofore unexposed side of his nature.

  There was something pathetic in the haggard face and the expressionsof impotent rage. His heart softened when his father bared hisshame to him and cried out against the fate which had brought themtogether on this day.

  "It doesn't matter, father," said Graydon hoarsely. "I desertedyou and I'm sorry. No matter what you've done to bring you here,I'm glad I've come to see you. I don't blame Elias. For a whileI'm afraid I rather held out against coming. Now, I am glad for myown sake. I won't desert you now. I am going to work for a pardon,if your appeal does not go through."

  "Don't! I won't have it!" exclaimed the other. "I'm going to stayit out. It will give me time to forget, so that I can be a betterman. If they let me out now I'd do something I'd always regret. Iwant to serve my time and start all over again. Don't worry aboutme. I won't hamper you. I'll go away--abroad, as Harbert suggested.Damn him, his advice was good, after all. Understand, Graydon, I donot want parole or pardon. You must not undertake it. I am guiltyand I ought to be punished the same as these other fellows in here.Don't shudder. It's true. I'm no better than they."

  "I hate to think of you in this awful place--" began Graydon.

  "Don't think of me."

  "But, my God, I've seen you here, father," cried the son.

  "A pretty spectacle for a son," laughed the father bitterly. "Whydid you bring that girl here? That was cruel--heartless."

  Graydon tried to convince him that Jane had not come to gloat butto ask a favour of him.

  "A favour, eh? She expects me to tell all I know about her, eh?That's good!" laughed Bansemer.

  "Father, she has done you no wrong. Why are you so bitter againsther? It's not right--it's not like you."

  Bansemer looked steadily at him for a full minute.

  "Is she going to marry you, Graydon?"

  "She refuses, absolutely."

  "Then, she's better than I thought. Perhaps I'm wrong in hatingher as I do. It's because she took you away from me. Give me time,Graydon. Some day I may tell you all I know. Don't urge me now; Ican't do it now. I don't want to see her again. Don't think I'm afool about it, boy, and don't speak of it again. Give me time."

  "She is the gentlest woman in the world."

  "You love her?"

  "Better than my life."

  "Graydon, I--I hope she will change her mind and become your wife."

  "You do? I don't understand."

  "That's why I'd rather she never cou
ld know who her parents are.The shadow is invisible now; it wouldn't help matters for her if itwere visible. She's better off by not knowing. Has Droom intimatedthat he knows?"

  "He says he does not."

  "He lies, but at the same time he won't tell her. It's not in himto do it. God, he has served me ill to-day. He has always hatedme, but he was always true to me. He did me a vile trick when hechanged the cartridges in my revolver. By God, I discharged him forthat. I told him to appear against me if he would. He was free todo so. But, curse him, he would not give me the satisfaction ofknowing that he was a traitor. He knew I'd go over the road, anyhow.He's been waiting for this day to come. He has finally given methe unhappiest hour in my life."

  After a few moments he quieted down and asked Graydon what his planswere for the future. In a strained uncertain way the two talked ofthe young man's prospects and the advantages they promised.

  "Go ahead, Graydon, and don't let the shadow of your father hauntyou. Don't forget me, boy, because I love you better than all theworld. These are strange words for a man who has fallen as I havefallen, but they are true. Listen to this: you will be a rich mansome day; I have a fortune to give you, my boy. They can't take mymoney from me, you know. It's all to be yours--every cent of it.You see--"

  "Father--I--let us not talk about it now," said Graydon hastily,a shadow of repugnance in his eyes. Bansemer studied his face fora moment and a deep red mounted to his brow.

  "You mean, Graydon," he stammered, "that you--you do not want mymoney?"

  "Why should we talk about it now?"

  "Because it suggests my death?"

  "No, no, father. I--"

  "You need not say it. I understand. It's enough. You feel that mymoney was not honestly made. Well, we won't discuss it. I'll notoffer it to you again."

  "It won't make any difference, dad. I love you. I don't love yourmoney."

  "Or the way I earned it. Some day, my boy, you'll learn that veryfew make money by dealing squarely with their fellow men. It's notthe custom. My methods were a little broader than common, that'sall. I now notify you that I intend to leave all I have to sweetcharity. I earned most of my ill-gotten wealth in New York andChicago, and I'm going to give it back to these cities. Charitywill take anything that is offered, but it doesn't always give inreturn."

  At the expiration of the time allotted to the visitor, Graydon tookhis departure.

  "Graydon, ask her to think kindly of me if she can."

  "I'll come down again, father before I go East."

  "No!" almost shouted James Bansemer. "I won't have it! For my sake,Graydon, don't ever come here again. Don't shame me more than youhave to-day. I'll never forget this hour. Stay away and you'll bedoing me the greatest kindness in the world. Promise me, boy!"

  "I can't promise that, dad. It isn't a sane request. I am yourson--"

  "My God, boy, don't you see that I can't bear to look at you throughthese bars? Go! Please go! Good-bye! Write to me, but don't comehere again. Don't! It's only a few years."

  He turned away abruptly, his shoulder drawn upward as if in pain,and Graydon left the place, weakened and sick at heart.

  Jane and Droom were awaiting him in an outer office. The formerlooked into his eyes searchingly, tenderly.

  "I'm so sorry, Graydon," she said as she took his hand in hers.

  All the way back to Chicago Elias Droom sat and watched them fromunder lowered brows, wondering why it was that he felt so muchlonelier than he ever had felt before,--wondering, too, in a vaguesort of way, why he was not able to exult, after all.

  CHAPTER XXXI

  THE TRANSFORMING OF DROOM