XXXV. "WILD WEEK"
"The Seven" made their fatal move on treacherous Updegraff's treacherousadvice, I suspect. But they would not have adopted his suggestion hadit not been so exactly congenial to their own temper of arrogance andtyranny and contempt for the people who meekly, year after year, presentedthemselves for the shearing with fatuous bleats of enthusiasm.
"The Seven," of course, controlled directly, or indirectly, all but afew of the newspapers with which I had advertising contracts. They alsocontrolled the main sources through which the press was supplied withnews--and often and well they had used this control, and surprisinglycautious had they been not so to abuse it that the editors and the publicwould become suspicious. When my war was at its height, when I wasbeginning to congratulate myself that the huge magazines of "The Seven"were empty almost to the point at which they must sue for peace on my ownterms, all in four days forty-three of my sixty-seven newspapers--and theythe most important--notified me that they would no longer carry out theircontracts to publish my daily letter. They gave as their reason, not thereal one, fear of "The Seven," but fear that I would involve them inruinous libel suits. I who had _legal_ proof for every statement Imade; I who was always careful to understate! Next, one press associationafter another ceased to send out my letter as news, though they had beendoing so regularly for months. The public had grown tired of the"sensation," they said.
I countered with a telegram to one or more newspapers in every city andlarge town in the United States:
"'The Seven' are trying to cut the wires between the truth and the public.If you wish my daily letter, telegraph me direct and I will send it at myexpense."
The response should have warned "The Seven." But it did not. Under theirorders the telegraph companies refused to transmit the letter. I got aninjunction. It was obeyed in typical, corrupt corporation fashion--theysent my matter, but so garbled that it was unintelligible. I appealed tothe courts. In vain.
To me, it was clear as sun in cloudless noonday sky that there could be butone result of this insolent and despotic denial of my rights and the rightsof the people, this public confession of the truth of my charges. I turnedeverything salable or mortgageable into cash, locked the cash up in myprivate vaults, and waited for the cataclysm.
Thursday--Friday--Saturday. Apparently all was tranquil; apparently thepeople accepted the Wall Street theory that I was an "exploded sensation.""The Seven" began to preen themselves; the strain upon them to maintainprices, if no less than for three months past, was not notably greater; thecrisis would pass, I and my exposures would be forgotten, the routine ofreaping the harvests and leaving only the gleanings for the sowers wouldsoon be placidly resumed.
Sunday. Roebuck, taken ill as he was passing the basket in the church ofwhich he was the shining light, died at midnight--a beautiful, peacefuldeath, they say, with his daughter reading the Bible aloud, and his lipsmoving in prayer. Some hold that, had he lived, the tranquillity would havecontinued; but this is the view of those who can not realize that the tideof affairs is no more controlled by the "great men" than is the river leddown to the sea by its surface flotsam, by which we measure the speed anddirection of its current. Under that terrific tension, which to the shallowseemed a calm, something had to give way. If the dam had not yielded whereRoebuck stood guard, it must have yielded somewhere else, or might havegone all in one grand crash.
Monday. You know the story of the artist and his Statue of Grief--howhe molded the features a hundred times, always failing, always gettingan anti-climax, until at last in despair he gave up the impossible andfinished the statue with a veil over the face. I have tried again and againto assemble words that would give some not too inadequate impression ofthat tremendous week in which, with a succession of explosions, each likethe crack of doom, the financial structure that housed eighty millions ofpeople burst, collapsed, was engulfed. I can not. I must leave it to yourmemory or your imagination.
For years the financial leaders, crazed by the excess of power which thepeople had in ignorance and over-confidence and slovenly good-naturepermitted them to acquire, had been tearing out the honest foundations onwhich alone so vast a structure can hope to rest solid and secure. Theyhad been substituting rotten beams painted to look like stone and iron.The crash had to come; the sooner, the better--when a thing is wrong, eachday's delay compounds the cost of righting it. So, with all the horrors of"Wild Week" in mind, all its physical and mental suffering, all its ruinand rioting and bloodshed, I still can insist that I am justly proud of myshare in bringing it about. The blame and the shame are wholly upon thosewho made "Wild Week" necessary and inevitable.
In catastrophes, the cry is "Each for himself!" But in a cataclysm, theobvious wise selfishness is generosity, and the cry is, "Stand together,for, singly, we perish." This was a cataclysm. No one could save himself,except the few who, taking my often-urged advice and following my example,had entered the ark of ready money. Farmer and artisan and professional manand laborer owed merchant; merchant owed banker; banker owed depositor. Noone could pay because no one could get what was due him or could realizeupon his property. The endless chain of credit that binds together thewhole of modern society had snapped in a thousand places. It must berepaired, instantly and securely. But how--and by whom?
I issued a clear statement of the situation; I showed in minute detail howthe people standing together under the leadership of the honest men ofproperty could easily force the big bandits to consent to an honest, just,rock-founded, iron-built reconstruction. My statement appeared in all themorning papers throughout the land. Turn back to it; read it. You will saythat I was right. Well--
Toward two o'clock Inspector Crawford came into my private office, escortedby Joe. I saw in Joe's seamed, green-gray face that some new danger hadarisen. "You've got to get out of this," said he. "The mob in front of ourplace fills the three streets. It's made up of crowds turned away from thesuspended banks."
I remembered the sullen faces and the hisses as I entered the office thatmorning earlier than usual. My windows were closed to keep out the streetnoises; but now that my mind was up from the work in which I had beenabsorbed, I could hear the sounds of many voices, even through the thickplate glass.
"We've got two hundred policemen here," said the inspector. "Five hundredmore are on the way. But--really, Mr. Blacklock, unless we can get youaway, there'll be serious trouble. Those damn newspapers! Every one of themdenounced you this morning, and the people are in a fury against you."
I went toward the door.
"Hold on, Matt!" cried Joe, springing at me and seizing me, "Where are yougoing?"
"To tell them what I think of them," replied I, sweeping him aside. For myblood was up, and I was enraged against the poor cowardly fools.
"For God's sake don't show yourself!" he begged. "If you don't care foryour own life, think of the rest of us. We've fixed a route throughbuildings and under streets up to Broadway. Your electric is waiting foryou there."
"It won't do," I said. "I'll face 'em--it's the only way."
I went to the window, and was about to throw up one of the sunblinds fora look at them; Crawford stopped me. "They'll stone the building and thenstorm it," said he. "You must go at once, by the route we've arranged."
"Even if you tell them I'm gone, they won't believe it," replied I.
"We can look out for that," said Joe, eager to save me, and caring nothingabout consequences to himself. But I had unsettled the inspector.
"Send for my electric to come down here," said I. "I'll go out alone andget in it and drive away."
"That'll never do!" cried Joe.
But the inspector said: "You're right, Mr. Blacklock. It's a bare chance.You may take 'em by surprise. Again, some fellow may yell and throw a stoneand--" He did not need to finish.
Joe looked wildly at me. "You mustn't do it, Matt!" he exclaimed. "You'llprecipitate a riot, Crawford, if you permit this."
But the inspector was telephoning for my electric. The
n he went into theadjoining room, where he commanded a view of the entrance. Silence betweenJoe and me until he returned.
"The electric is coming down the street," said he.
I rose. "Good," said I. "I'm ready."
"Wait until the other police get here," advised Crawford.
"If the mob is in the temper you describe," said I, "the less that's doneto irritate it the better. I must go out as if I hadn't a suspicion ofdanger."
The inspector eyed me with an expression that was highly flattering to myvanity.
"I'll go with you," said Joe, starting up from his stupor.
"No," I replied. "You and the other fellows can take the underground route,if it's necessary."
"It won't be necessary," put in the inspector. "As soon as I'm rid of youand have my additional force, I'll clear the streets." He went to the door."Wait, Mr. Blacklock, until I've had time to get out to my men."
Perhaps ten seconds after he disappeared, I, without further words, put onmy hat, lit a cigar, shook Joe's wet, trembling hand, left in it my privatekeys and the memorandum of the combination of my private vault. Then Isallied forth.
I had always had a ravenous appetite for excitement, and I had been inmany a tight place; but for the first time there seemed to me to be anequilibrium between my internal energy and the outside situation. As Istepped from my street door and glanced about me, I had no feeling ofdanger. The whole situation seemed so simple. There stood the electric,just across the narrow stretch of sidewalk; there were the two hundredpolice, under Crawford's orders, scattered everywhere through the crowd,and good-naturedly jostling and pushing to create distraction. Withouthaste, I got into my machine. I calmly met the gaze of those thousands,quiet as so many barrels of gunpowder before the explosion. The chauffeurturned the machine.
"Go slow," I called to him. "You might hurt somebody."
But he had his orders from the inspector. He suddenly darted ahead at fullspeed. The mob scattered in every direction, and we were in Broadway, boundup town full-tilt, before I or the mob realized what he was about.
I called to him to slow down. He paid not the slightest attention. I leanedfrom the window and looked up at him. It was not my chauffeur; it was a manwho had the unmistakable but indescribable marks of the plain-clothespoliceman.
"Where are you going?" I shouted.
"You'll find out when we arrive," he shouted back, grinning.
I settled myself and waited--what else was there to do? Soon I guessed wewere headed for the pier off which my yacht was anchored. As we dashed onto it, I saw that it was filled with police, both in uniform and in plainclothes. I descended. A detective sergeant stepped up to me. "We are hereto help you to your yacht," he explained. "You wouldn't be safe anywhere inNew York--no more would the place that harbored you."
He had both common sense and force on his side. I got into the launch. Fourdetective sergeants accompanied me and went aboard with me. "Go ahead,"said one of them to my captain. He looked at me for orders.
"We are in the hands of our guests," said I. "Let them have their way."
We steamed down the bay and out to sea.
* * * * *
From Maine to Texas the cry rose and swelled:
"Blacklock is responsible! What does it matter whether he lied or told thetruth? See the results of his crusade! He ought to be pilloried! He oughtto be killed! He is the enemy of the human race. He has almost plungedthe whole civilized world into bankruptcy and civil war." And they turnedeagerly to the very autocrats who had been oppressing them. "You have thegenius for finance and industry. Save us!"
If you did not know, you could guess how those patriots with the "geniusfor finance and industry" responded. When they had done, when their programwas in effect, Langdon, Melville and Updegraff were the three richest menin the country, and as powerful as Octavius, Antony and Lepidus afterPhilippi. They had saddled upon the reorganized finance and industry of thenation heavier taxes than ever, and a vaster and more expensive and moreluxurious army of their parasites.
The people had risen for financial and industrial freedom; they had paidits fearful price; then, in senseless panic and terror, they flung it away.I have read that one of the inscriptions on Apollo's temple at Delphi was,"Man, the fool of the farce." Truly, the gods must have created us fortheir amusement; and when Olympus palls, they ring up the curtain on somesuch screaming comedy as was that. It "makes the fancy chuckle, while theheart doth ache."
XXXVI. "BLACK MATT'S" TRIUMPH
My enemies caused it to be widely believed that "Wild Week" was mydeliberate contrivance for the sole purpose of enriching myself. Thus theygot me a reputation for almost superhuman daring, for satanic astuteness atcold-blooded calculation. I do not deserve the admiration and respect thatmy success-worshiping fellow countrymen lay at my feet. True, I did greatlyenrich myself; but _not until the Monday after Wild Week_.
Not until I had pondered on men and events with the assistance of thenewspapers my detective protectors and jailers permitted to be broughtaboard--not until the last hope of turning Wild Week to the immediatepublic advantage had sputtered out like a lost man's last match, did Ithink of benefiting myself, of seizing the opportunity to strengthen myselffor the future. On Monday morning, I said to Sergeant Mulholland: "I wantto go ashore at once and send some telegrams."
The sergeant is one of the detective bureau's "dress-suit men." He is bynature phlegmatic and cynical. His experience has put over that a veneerof weary politeness. We had become great friends during our enforcedinseparable companionship. For Joe, who looked on me somewhat as a motherlooks on a brilliant but erratic son, had, as I soon discovered, elaborateda wonderful program for me. It included a watch on me day and night, lest,through rage or despondency, I should try to do violence to myself. A finecharacter, that Joe! But, to return, Mulholland answered my request forshore-leave with a soothing smile. "Can't do it, Mr. Blacklock," he said."Our orders are positive. But when we put in at New London and send ashorefor further instructions, and for the papers, you can send in yourmessages."
"As you please," said I. And I gave him a cipher telegram to Joe--an orderto invest my store of cash, which meant practically my whole fortune, inthe gilt-edged securities that were to be had for cash at a small fractionof their value.
This on the Monday after Wild Week, please note. I would have helped thepeople to deliver themselves from the bondage of the bandits. They wouldnot have it. I would even have sacrificed my all in trying to save them inspite of themselves. But what is one sane man against a stampeded multitudeof maniacs? For confirmation of my disinterestedness, I point to all thoseweeks and months during which I waged costly warfare on "The Seven," whowould gladly have given me more than I now have, could I have been bribedto desist. But, when I was compelled to admit that I had overestimated myfellow men, that the people wear the yoke because they have not yet becomeintelligent and competent enough to be free, then and not until then did Iabandon the hopeless struggle.
And I did not go over to the bandits; I simply resumed my own neglectedpersonal affairs and made Wild Week at least a personal triumph.
There is nothing of the spectacular in my make-up. I have no belief inthe value of martyrs and martyrdom. Causes are not won--and in my humbleopinion never have been won--in the graveyards. Alive and afoot and armed,and true to my cause, I am the dreaded menace to systematic and respectablerobbery. What possible good could have come of mobs killing me and thebandits dividing my estate?
But why should I seek to justify myself? I care not a rap for the opinionof my fellow men. They sought my life when they should have been hailing meas a deliverer; now, they look up to me because they falsely believe meguilty of an infamy.
My guards expected to be recalled on Tuesday. But Melville heard whatCrawford had done about me, and straightway used his influence to have medetained until the new grip of the old gang was secure. Saturday afternoonwe put in at Newport for the daily communication with the shor
e. When thelaunch returned, Mulholland brought the papers to me, lounging aft in amass of cushions under the awning. "We are going ashore," said he. "Theorder has come."
I had a sudden sense of loneliness. "I'll take you down to New York," saidI. "I prefer to land my guests where I shipped them."
As we steamed slowly westward I read the papers. The country was rapidlyreadjusting itself, was returning to the conditions before the upheaval.The "financiers"--the same old gang, except for a few of the weakerbrethren ruined and a few strong outsiders, who had slipped in during theconfusion--were employing all the old, familiar devices for deceiving androbbing the people. The upset milking-stool was righted, and the milker wasseated again and busy, the good old cow standing without so much as shakeof horn or switch of tail. "Mulholland," said I, "what do you think of thisbusiness of living?"
"I'll tell you, Mr. Blacklock," said he. "I used to fuss and fret a gooddeal about it. But I don't any more. I've got a house up in the Bronx,and a bit of land round it. And there's Mrs. Mulholland and four littleMulhollands and me--that's my country and my party and my religion. Therest is off my beat, and I don't give a damn for it. I don't care whichfakir gets to be president, or which swindler gets to be rich. Everythingworks out somehow, and the best any man can do is to mind his ownbusiness."
"Mulholland--Mrs. Mulholland--four little Mulhollands," said Ireflectively. "That's about as much as one man could attend to properly.And--you are 'on the level,' aren't you?"
"Some say honesty's the best policy," replied he. "Some say it isn't. Idon't know, and I don't care, whether it is or it isn't. It's _my_policy. And we six seem to have got along on it so far."
I sent my "guests" ashore the next morning.
"No, I'll stay aboard," said I to Mulholland, as he stood aside for me toprecede him down the gangway from the launch. I went into the watch-pocketof my trousers and drew out the folded two one-thousand-dollar bills Ialways carried--it was a habit formed in my youthful, gambling days. Ihanded him one of the bills. He hesitated.
"For the four little Mulhollands," I urged.
He put it in his pocket. I watched him and his men depart with a heavyheart. I felt alone, horribly alone, without a tie or an interest. Some ofthe morning papers spoke respectfully of me as one of the strong men whohad ridden the flood and had been landed by it on the heights of wealthand power. Admiration and envy lurked even in sneers at my "unscrupulousplotting." Since I had wealth, plenty of wealth, I did not need character.Of what use was character in such a world except as a commodity to exchangefor wealth?
"Any orders, sir?" interrupted my captain.
I looked round that vast and vivid scene of sea and land activities. Ilooked along the city's titanic sky-line--the mighty fortresses of tradeand commerce piercing the heavens and flinging to the wind their blackbanners of defiance. I felt that I was under the walls of hell itself.
"To get away from this," replied I to the waiting captain. "Go back downthe Sound--to Dawn Hill."
Yes, I would go to the peaceful, soothing country, to my dogs and horsesand those faithful servants bound to me by our common love for the sameanimals. "Men to cross swords with, to amuse oneself with," I mused; "butdogs and horses to live with." I pictured myself at the kennels--the joyfuluproar the instant instinct warned the dogs of my coming; how they wouldleap and bark and tremble in a very ecstasy of delight as I stood amongthem; how jealous all the others would be, as I selected one to caress.
"Send her ahead as fast as she'll go," I called to the captain.
As the _Albatross_ steamed into the little harbor, I saw MowbrayLangdon's _Indolence_ at anchor. I glanced toward Steuben Point--wherehis cousins, the Vivians, lived--and thought I recognized his launch attheir pier. We saluted the _Indolence_; the _Indolence_ salutedus. My launch was piped away and took me ashore. I strolled along the paththat wound round the base of the hill toward the kennels. At the crossingof the path down from the house, I paused and lingered on the glimpseof one of the corner towers of the great showy palace. I was mutteringsomething--I listened to myself. It was: "Mulholland, Mrs. Mulholland andthe four little Mulhollands." And I felt like laughing aloud, such a jokewas it that I should be envying a policeman his potato patch and his fatwife and his four brats, and that he should be in a position to pity me.
You may be imagining that, through all, Anita had been dominating my mind.That is the way it is in the romances; but not in life. No doubt there aremen who brood upon the impossible, and moon and maunder away their livesover the grave of a dead love; no doubt there are people who will say that,because I did not shoot Langdon or her, or myself, or fly to a desert orpose in the crowded places of the world as the last scene of a tragedy,I therefore cared little about her. I offer them this suggestion: A manstrong enough to give a love worth a woman's while is strong enough to liveon without her when he finds he may not live with her.
As I stood there that summer day, looking toward the crest of the hill,at the mocking mausoleum of my dead dream, I realized what the incessantbattle of the Street had meant to me. "There is peace for me only in thestorm," said I. "But, thank God, there is peace for me somewhere."
Through the foliage I had glimpses of some one coming slowly down thezigzag path. Presently, at one of the turnings half-way up the hill,appeared Mowbray Langdon. "What is he doing here," thought I, scarcely ableto believe my eyes. "Here of all places!" And then I forgot the strangenessof his being at Dawn Hill in the strangeness of his expression. For it wasapparent, even at the distance which separated us, that he was sufferingfrom some great and recent blow. He looked old and haggard; he walked likea man who neither knows nor cares where he is going.
He had not seen me, and my impulse was to avoid him by continuing on towardthe kennels. I had no especial feeling against him; I had not lost Anitabecause she cared for him or he for her, but because she did not care forme--simply that to meet would be awkward, disagreeable for us both. At theslight noise of my movement to go on, he halted, glanced round eagerly,as if he hoped the sound had been made by some one he wished to see. Hisglance fell on me. He stopped short, was for an instant disconcerted; thenhis face lighted up with devilish joy. "You!" he cried. "Just the man!" Andhe descended more rapidly.
At first I could make nothing of this remark. But as he drew nearer andnearer, and his ugly mood became more and more apparent, I felt that he waslooking forward to provoking me into giving him a distraction from whateverwas tormenting him. I waited. A few minutes and we were face to face, Ioutwardly calm, but my anger slowly lighting up as he deliberately appliedto it the torch of his insolent eyes. He was wearing his old familiarair of cynical assurance. Evidently, with his recovered fortune, he hadrecovered his conviction of his great superiority to the rest of the humanrace--the child had climbed back on the chair that made it tall and hadforgotten its tumble. And I was wondering again that I, so short a timebefore, had been crude enough to be fascinated and fooled by those tawdryposings and pretenses. For the man, as I now saw him, was obviously shallowand vain, a slave to those poor "man-of-the-world" passions--ostentationand cynicism and skill at vices old as mankind and tedious as a treadmill,the commonplace routine of the idle and foolish and purposeless. A clever,handsome fellow, but the more pitiful that he was by nature above the usesto which he prostituted himself.
He fought hard to keep his eyes steadily on mine; but they would waver andshift. Not, however, before I had found deep down in them the beginningsof fear. "You see, you were mistaken," said I. "You have nothing to say tome--or I to you."
He knew I had looked straight to the bottom of his real self, and had seenthe coward that is in every man who has been bred to appearances only. Uprose his vanity, the coward's substitute for courage.
"You think I am afraid of you?" he sneered, bluffing and blustering likethe school bully.
"I don't in the least care whether you are or not," replied I. "What areyou doing here, anyhow?"
It was as if I had thrown off the cover of a furnace. "I c
ame to get thewoman I love," he cried. "You stole her from me! You tricked me! But, byGod, Blacklock, I'll never pause until I get her back and punish you!"He was brave enough now, drunk with the fumes from his brave words. "Allmy life," he raged arrogantly on, "I've had whatever I wanted. I've letnothing interfere--nothing and nobody. I've been too forbearing withyou--first, because I knew she could never care for you, and, then, becauseI rather admired your pluck and impudence. I like to see fellows kick theirway up among us from the common people."
I put my hand on his shoulder. No doubt the fiend that rose within me, asfrom the dead, looked at him from my eyes. He has great physical strength,but he winced under that weight and grip, and across his face flitted theterror that must come to any man at first sense of being in the angryclutch of one stronger than he. I slowly released him--I had tested andrealized my physical superiority; to use it would be cheap and cowardly.
"You can't provoke me to descend to your level," said I, with the easyphilosophy of him who clearly has the better of the argument.
He was shaking from head to foot, not with terror, but with impotent rage.How much we owe to accident! The mere accident of my physical superiorityhad put him at hopeless disadvantage; had made him feel inferior to me asno victory of mental or moral superiority could possibly have done. And Imyself felt a greater contempt for him than the discovery of his treacheryand his shallowness had together inspired.
"I shan't indulge in flapdoodle," I went on. "I'll be frank. A year ago, ifany man had faced me with a claim upon a woman who was married to me, I'dprobably have dealt with him as your vanity and what you call 'honor' wouldforce you to try to deal with a similar situation. But I live to learn, andI'm, fortunately, not afraid to follow a new light. There is the vanity ofso-called honor; there as also the demand of justice--of fair play. As Ihave told her, so I now tell you--she is free to go. But I shall say onething to you that I did not say to her. If you do not deal fairly with her,I shall see to it that there are ten thorns to every rose in that bed ofroses on which you lie. You are contemptible in many ways--perhaps that'swhy women like you. But there must be some good in you, or possibilities ofgood, or you could not have won and kept her love."
He was staring at me with a dazed expression. I rather expected him to showsome of that amused contempt with which men of his sort always receive anew idea that is beyond the range of their narrow, conventional minds. ForI did not expect him to understand why I was not only willing, but eveneager, to relinquish a woman whom I could hold only by asserting a propertyright in her. And I do not think he did understand me, though his mannerchanged to a sort of grudging respect. He was, I believe, about to makesome impulsive, generous speech, when we heard the quick strokes ofiron-shod hoofs on the path from the kennels and the stables--is thereany sound more arresting? Past us at a gallop swept a horse, on hisback--Anita. She was not in riding-habit; the wind fluttered the sleeves ofher blouse, blew her uncovered hair this way and that about her beautifulface. She sped on toward the landing, though I fancied she had seen us.
Anita at Dawn Hill--Langdon, in a furious temper, descending from the housetoward the landing--Anita presently, riding like mad--"to overtake him,"thought I. And I read confirmation in his triumphant eyes. In anothermood, I suppose my fury would have been beyond my power to restrain it.Just then--the day grew dark for me, and I wanted to hide away somewhere.Heart-sick, I was ashamed for her, hated myself for having blundered intosurprising her.
She reappeared at the turn round which she had vanished. I now tooted thatshe was riding without saddle or bridle, with only a halter round thehorse's neck--then she had seen us, had stopped and come back as soon asshe could. She dropped from the horse, looked swiftly at me, at him, at meagain, with intense anxiety.
"I saw your yacht in the harbor only a moment ago," she said to me. She wasalmost panting. "I feared you might meet him. So I came."
"As you see, he is quite--intact," said I. "I must ask that you and heleave the place at once." And I went rapidly along the path toward thekennels.
An exclamation from Langdon forced me to turn in spite of myself. He washalf-kneeling, was holding her in his arms. At that sight, the savage inme shook himself free. I dashed toward them with I knew not what cursesbursting from me. Langdon, intent upon her, did not realize until I senthim reeling backward to the earth and snatched her up. Her white face, herclosed eyes, her limp form made my fury instantly collapse. In my confusionI thought that she was dead. I laid her gently on the grass and supportedher head, so small, so gloriously crowned, the face so still and sweet andwhite, like the stainless entrance to a stainless shrine. How that horriblefear changed my whole way of looking at her, at him, at her and him, ateverything!
Her eyelids were quivering--her eyes were opening--her bosom was rising andfalling slowly as she drew long, uncertain breaths. She shuddered, sat up,started up. "Go! go!" she cried. "Bring him back! Bring him back! Bringhim--"
There she recognized me. "Oh," she said, and gave a great sigh of relief.She leaned against a tree and looked at Langdon. "You are still here? Thentell him."
Langdon gazed sullenly at the ground. "I can't," he answered. "I don'tbelieve it. Besides--he has given you to me. Let us go. Let me take you tothe Vivians." He threw out his arms in a wild, passionate gesture; he wasutterly unlike himself. His emotion burst through and shattered pose andcynicism and hard crust of selfishness like the exploding powder burstingthe shell. "I can't give you up, Anita!" he exclaimed in a tone of utterdesperation. "I can't! I can't!"
But her gaze was all this time steadily on me, as if she feared I would go,should she look away. "I will tell you myself," she said rapidly, to me."We--uncle Howard and I--read in the papers how they had all turned againstyou, and he brought me over here. He has been telegraphing for you. Thismorning he went to town to search for you. About an hour ago Langdon came.I refused to see him, as I have ever since the time I told you about atAlva's. He persisted, until at last I had the servant request him to leavethe house."
"But _now_ there's no longer any reason for your staying, Anita," hepleaded. "He has said you are free. Why stay when _you_ would reallyno more be here than if you were to go, leaving one of your empty dresses?"
She had not for an instant taken her gaze from me; and so strange were hereyes, so compelling, that I seemed unable to move or speak.
But now she released me to blaze upon him--and never shall I forget anydetail of her face or voice as she said to him: "That is false, MowbrayLangdon. I told you the truth when I told you I loved him!"
So violent was her emotion that she had to pause for self-control. And I?I was overwhelmed, dazed, stunned. When she went on, she was looking atneither of us. "Yes, I loved him, almost from the first--from the day hecame to the box at the races. I was ashamed, poor creature that my parentshad made me! I was ashamed of it. And I tried to hate him, and thought Idid. And when he showed me that he no longer cared, my pride goaded me intothe folly of trying to listen to you. But I loved him more than ever. Andas you and he stand here, I am ashamed again--ashamed that I was ever soblind and ignorant and prejudiced as to compare him with"--she looked atLangdon--"with you. Do you believe me now--now that I humble myself beforehim here in your presence?"
I should have had no heart at all if I had not felt pity for him. His facewas gray, and on it were those signs of age that strong emotion brings tothe surface after forty. "You could have convinced me in no other way," hereplied, after a silence, and in a voice I should not have recognized.
Silence again. Presently he raised his head, and with something of his oldcynicism bowed to her.
"You have avenged much and many," said he. "I have often had a presentimentthat my day of wrath would come."
He lifted his hat, bowed to me without looking at me, and, drawing thetatters of his pose still further over his wounds, moved away toward thelanding.
I, still in a stupor, watched him until he had disappeared. When I turnedto her, she dropped her eyes. "Uncle How
ard will be back this afternoon,"said she. "If I may, I'll stay at the house until he comes to take me."
A weary, half-suppressed sigh escaped from her. I knew how she must bereading my silence, but I was still unable to speak. She went to the horse,browsing near by; she stroked his muzzle. Lingeringly she twined herfingers in his mane, as if about to spring to his back! That reminded me ofa thousand and one changes in her--little changes, each a trifle in itself,yet, taken all together, making a complete transformation.
"Let me help you," I managed to say. And I bent, and made a step of myhand.
She touched her fingers to my shoulder, set her narrow, graceful foot uponmy palm. But she did not rise. I glanced up; she was gazing wistfully downat me.
"Women have to learn by experience just as do men," said she forlornly."Yet men will not tolerate it."
I suppose I must suddenly have looked what I was unable to put intowords--for her eyes grew very wide, and, with a cry that was a sigh and asob, and a laugh and a caress all in one, she slid into my arms and herface was burning against mine.
"Do you remember the night at the theater," she murmured, "when your lipsalmost touched my neck?--I loved you then--Black Matt--_Black Matt_!"
And I found voice; and the horse wandered away.
* * * * *
What more?
How Langdon eased his pain and soothed his vanity? Whenever an oldBabylonian nobleman had a misfortune, he used to order all his slaves to belashed, that their shrieks and moans might join his in appeasing the godwho was punishing him. Langdon went back to Wall Street, and for months hemade all within his power suffer; in his fury he smashed fortunes, loweredwages, raised prices, reveled in the blasts of a storm of impotent curses.But you do not care to hear about that.
As for myself, what could I tell that you do not know or guess? Now thatall men, even the rich, even the parasites of the bandits, groan undertheir tyranny and their taxes, is it strange that the resentment against mehas disappeared, that my warnings are remembered, that I am popular? Imight forecast what I purpose to do when the time is ripe. But I am notgiven to prophecy. I will only say that I think I shall, in due season, gointo action again--profiting by my experience in the futility of trying tohasten evolution by revolution. Meanwhile--
As I write, I can look up from the paper, and out upon the lawn, at awoman--what a woman!--teaching a baby to walk. And, assisting her, thereis a boy, himself not yet an expert at walking. I doubt if you'd have toglance twice at that boy to know he is my son. Well--I have borrowed a leaffrom Mulholland's philosophy. I commend it to you.
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