Katrine: A Novel

  XXVI

  DERMOTT MCDERMOTT

  "You who were ever alert to befriend a man, You who were ever the first to defend a man, You who had always the money to lend a man Down on his luck and hard up for a V. Sure you'll be playing a harp in beatitude (And a quare sight you will be in that attitude) Some day, where gratitude seems but a platitude, You'll find your latitude."

  About Christmas-time the Metropolitan managers offered Katrine anengagement for next season. In a lengthy interview with their extremelycourteous representative she explained her inability to accept the veryflattering terms by reason of the already signed St. Petersburgcontracts. Although there seemed no definite outcome from the interview,the gentleman with whom it was held left her, as all did, charmed by hersincerity, her enthusiasm, and her great generosity.

  The following week Melba was indisposed, and the much-impressedgentleman of the Metropolitan wrote to Katrine, asking if she would singfor them in the great prima-donna's place.

  She accepted the offer with small hesitation, asking no one's adviceabout an unheralded debut. She was too great an artist to desireanything but stern criticism, and if she could sing greatly, shereasoned, the public would be quick enough to discover it. The opera tobe given was "Faust." Her costumes were quite ready by reason of herParis debut, and she went to the morning rehearsals with the same joy inher work that she had known when studying with Josef.

  About four of the afternoon, before the final rehearsal, it began tosnow persistently in small flakes which dropped evenly from a leadensky. Standing by the window, twisting the curtain-string unconsciously,with her soul out in the storm, she became conscious of excited cries of"Extra!" in the street below, and as though in accompaniment to themthere came an incessant ringing of the bell at the street door.

  Nora being absent on some self-appointed business of her own, the maidwho had brought in the tea, and one of the very damp papers which theboys were still crying below, left the room with some abruptness to seewhat was demanded below and who was clamoring for admission.

  Katrine, left alone, poured the tea herself, her eyes scanning the newsindifferently until they rested on some heavy black lines heading thelast column. Again and again she looked, hoping that the printing wouldstay still, would stop seeming to dance up and down between the floorand ceiling--stop long enough for her to get its dreadful import:

  =REPORTED ASSIGNMENT OF FRANCIS RAVENEL!= * * * * * =Combined Attack Made on M.S. and R. Railroad!= * * * * * =Mr. Ravenel Dangerously Ill at the Savoy!= * * * * *

  Dangerously ill! Dangerously ill! Dangerously ill! The words began goingover and over in her brain, seeming to strike from within on her templesin a kind of hammering that she felt would set her mad. She stoodhelpless, her career, her work, her ambition gone from her in a divineself-forgetting and desire to help, as his gayety, his charm, "hisdifference" from all others came back to her. She made new excuses forhis conduct. She told herself, as a mother might speak of a child, thathe had been so spoiled. She remembered only the best of him--hiskindness to her father, his generosity to herself.

  She had long since realized the weight of Frank's words the morning oftheir parting.

  "And remember, that if I did not do the best, I did not do the worst;that I am going away when I might stay," and she knew, looking back onher youth and trustfulness, how much truth there might have been inthose words. She clasped her hands to her head trying to think. Thethrobbing in her head began to be followed by horrid sensations ofthings around going far away to an immeasurable distance, and returningagain rapidly and horribly enlarged.

  "Dangerously ill!" she repeated. "Dying, perhaps, alone in hotel roomswith none but paid attendance."

  Her throat became choked at thought of it. "Father in heaven," shecried, her hands clasped together, "help me to help him! Don't let himsuffer!" she pleaded. "I promised to help him always. Help me to keep mypromise!"

  * * * * *

  Outside, the controversy between the maid at the door and some other wasgrowing louder, and a demanding, forceful, insolent voice was insistingupon seeing Katrine "immejit," as the frightened French girl came backto the room in a panic of fear.

  "A gentleman to see you, mademoiselle."

  "I can see no one," Katrine answered, briefly, her face averted.

  "He says his business is most important."

  "Who is it, Marcelle?" she asked.

  "It is Nora's son, mademoiselle, and he has been drinking; but if I wereyou, I'd see him."

  The significance of the girl's tone changed Katrine's former decision.

  "Tell him to come in," she said.

  Barney came as far as the doorway and stood leaning against the frame ofit, his eyes hot and angry, waving a newspaper wildly over his head.

  "Of all the damned dirty businesses," he cried, "this is the damnedestand dirtiest I ever got up against! 'Combined attack," he quoted,striking the printed words with his fist. "Do you know the name of thatcombination? Dermott McDermott, that's its name. There may be a fewothers mixed up in it--Marix, for instance--for looks only. But it'sMcDermott at the bottom; this same McDermott mother's always tellin' meto imitate. Damned rascal! He's hated Mr. Ravenel and downed himbecause be thinks you love him. Hit him when he's down, too!"

  He was too excited to sit down, but walked back and forth, talkingloudly with excited gestures.

  "Mr. Ravenel got back from Europe only three days ago, Tuesday, and inthe evening he sent for me to come to the Savoy. Miss Katrine, I'venever seen so dreadful a change in any one. He was like an old man. Thelook of death was on him, and he said he'd sent for me to cheer him upwith my talk."

  The boy was unable to continue for the sobs which shook him, and hecovered his face with his hands for a space before he could proceed.

  "He'd found bad news in Europe, he told me, and wanted me to cheer himup. I stayed the night with him, and in the morning when I called him hedid not answer, but just lay still and white, looking at me, unable tospeak. We got Dr. Johnston right away, and telegraphed Mr. Ravenel'smother, who arrived the next day. Yesterday morning that hound Marix,whose affairs are all mixed up with McDermott's, sent this note to me."

  He extended a bit of yellow paper toward her, upon which was written:

  "Sell Ravenel stocks within the next twenty-four hours, and hold for the bottom to drop out of them."

  "But I'll get even with him, this Marix!" Barney shrieked, in his rage."The only reason he gives me tips is because I know somethingdisgraceful of him! I'll publish him from one end of the country to theother! I'll send him to the penitentiary! But I can't reach McDermott!Oh," he cried, with clinched fists, "if I only could!"

  "I can," Katrine said, quietly; asking, after a minute's doubting,"You're sure it is Dermott McDermott who is at the foot of the trouble?"

  "Who else has the money or the reasons to make such an attack?" hedemanded of her as an answer. "And Marix as good as told me McDermotthad some big deal on against the Ravenel interests last month."

  She stood looking up at him, the folded yellow paper in her hand, drivenby race instinct to fight in the open, to get into the enemy's country,especially if McDermott were the enemy.

  With an angry light in her eyes she called for a storm-cloak anddemanded a cab, setting Nora and her remonstrances aside with abruptdecision. Giving the cabman the address of McDermott's down-townoffices, she sat in the dark of the carriage with the paper Barney hadgiven her clutched in her hand, with neither consideration of the cominginterview nor formulated plans. In a vague way she knew that peoplestared after her, as she went through the corridor of the greatbuilding, the hood of her storm-cloak thrown back. Unminding, she rappedat McDermott's private door. She had no misgiving about his being there.She knew in some way, before she left her apartment, that he would bethere when she arrived.

  "Come
in!" he called, curtly.

  She entered to find him alone, standing by the window lookingabsent-mindedly over the snowy chimney-tops, as though projecting aholiday.

  "By all the saints at once!" he cried, gayly, at sight of her. "Herehave I been ruminating on the sins of the fathers; on the triumphantfifth act, with vice punished and virtue rewarded at the fall of thecurtain, when you enter!" And here her silence and pallor and accusingeyes stopped his talking. "What is it, Katrine?" he demanded.

  "Did you bring this trouble to Mr. Ravenel?" she asked, her eyes filledwith a dangerous light which in a second was matched by the blaze inhis.

  "Do you mean that ye think it was I who struck a man in the back in theway this thing was done?" he cried, bringing his closed fist down on thenewspaper, which lay on the desk before him, in a splendid kind ofanger. "How little you know me, after all!" he said, reproach in hisvoice. "How little ye know me! I've had neither art or part in it, norsuspicion of it until to-day. You'll be wanting proof of it!" he wenton, a bit of scorn in his voice. "If so, mayhap the common-sense of thesituation will appeal to you, though I don't know." He was angry, andshe felt the brunt of it in these words. "Look you!" he continued. "Whyshould I be ruining an estate that I'm trying to get possession of? Itwould be a fool's part to play."

  "Forgive me, McDermott!" she cried. "Oh, forgive me! I want no furtherproof. Your face is enough for me. But I'm beside myself with grief."

  "I suppose," he continued, "that you reasoned I was capable of thisbecause of that affair about the land on the other side of the river?"

  "I did think of it," Katrine admitted. "Forgive me for it, Dermott, butI did think of it!"

  "Do you know for whom I bought that land, Katrine Dulany? For yourfather--no less. It was got with the hope of helping him. It stands inhis name in the State records to-day."

  "Oh, Dermott!" she pleaded, the Irish form of speech coming back to her."You'll just be forgiving me, won't you?" She put her hand on his sleeveand looked up at him with imploring eyes. "You must know how great andgood I still believed you to be when I tell you that I came to you toask you to help him. I've some money--the Countess, you know," sheexplained--"and I thought if you'd faith in my voice--and ye've saidoften that ye have--that if"--she broke into a storm of weeping--"ifyou'd just lend him the money that's needed I could sing the debt clearin the years to come."

  Dermott looked down at the bowed head upon his old desk, his eyes moist,his lips twitching.

  "Perhaps," he broke in, the angry light still in his eyes, "ye'll tellme who accuses me of this business?"

  For answer she extended toward him the yellow paper which Barney hadgiven her, signed with John Marix's initials.

  "And so you believed Barney, although ye know his weakness for jumpingat conclusions? Ye must have believed him, for my name's not mentionedhere," he said, looking at the paper.

  "He told me Mr. Marix had intimated to him that you were behind theattack."

  "Ah! and so it's Marix that's been misusing my name, is it?" he cried,his eyes narrowed. "I'll settle with him!" And then, "Ye love Ravenel,Katrine?"

  "Yes," she answered: "there's just nothing else in life for me."

  "And after all that's gone between him and me, you are asking _me tohelp him_?"

  "Dermott," she said, gravely, sobbing between the words, "I came to youbecause I have always known the greatness, the selflessness of you, andI trust you."

  They stood in silence, not looking at each other.

  "I have no one else," she went on. "There is no one else in the world Itrust as I do you."

  He held himself more erect at the words, a great light in his face.

  "You are the only one who has always, always been kind to me," shecontinued, "and I'd give all there is of me to come to you, heart whole,as your wife. But I can't do it, Dermott, I can't do it! I've tried; noone knows how I tried to forget this love in my heart. I studied toforget, worked to forget, _willed_ to forget, but"--and here she spokethe truth of life--"when great love has once been between a man and awoman, the man may forget, but the woman never. I've wealth and beauty,they say, and gift, and they're all just nothing to me except to helphim. Before I'd been two days at the Van Rensselaer's it was just as ithad been in Carolina. It was only fear that kept me from saying I'dmarry him."

  "He wants to marry you now? He has asked you?" Dermott spoke softly forher sake, keeping from his voice the scorn he felt for Ravenel.

  "Yes," she returned. "And I know all you're thinking; but it makes nodifference! When I think of him, ill, perhaps dying, his fortune gone,and nameless, maybe, as well, I'd give my soul to save him!" she cried,tear-eyed and pale, but glorious in self-abnegation.

  She had risen and stood before him with eyes uplifted and unseeing. Fora moment only she stood thus, before, the strain of the time proving toogreat for her to endure longer, she turned suddenly, and but for hissupporting arm would have fallen. For a little while her dear, dark headlay against his breast, a moment never to be forgotten by him, thoughwith stoical delicacy he refrained from thoughts which might haveoffended her could she have known them. He had grown very white beforeshe recovered herself, but the great light still shone in his eyes as heplaced a hand tenderly on her shoulder.

  "Go home, little girl," he said. "Go home and be at peace. I give myword to help him. I give my word that all, so far as I can make it, willbe well with him."

  "Ah," she cried, "you are so good, so good!"

  He made no answer whatever, standing gray-faced by the window, lookinginto the storm without as she drew her cloak about her.

  "Good-bye," she said.

  "I'll take you to the carriage," he answered, quietly. "The storm isstill violent, I see."

  Coming back to the office, he locked the door, drew the curtains, andsat beside the dying fire alone. In the outer room he could hear theclick of poker dice, could even distinguish the voices of the players,but they seemed far off. Life itself seemed slipping from him. Suddenlyhe threw himself face downward on the rug in front of the fire and layshivering, catching his breath every little while in dry sobs,impossible for any one to endure for long. Every little while heclutched the edge of the rug in his sinewy hand, not knowing in hisagony what he did. The dreams and hopes of six years had been takenfrom him, and a great imagined future built on those dreams as well. Theglory of his life had departed, and in his passionate misery thereseemed nothing ahead for him but gray skies and barren land and bitterwaters.

  All night and far into the morning he lay. About five, the storm outsidehaving died away, the gray light began showing faintly at the windowedges, and with the coming of the dawn the soul of the man gripped himand demanded an accounting. "Was this the way he helped?" he askedhimself, accusingly.

  By chairs and desk, for his strength was spent, he reached a smallcabinet, and, finding a certain powder, took one, and, after a littlewhile, another. Then he felt his pulse, timing it by the watch as he didso. Satisfied, he crossed the room to a safe, and with uncertain handsplaced package after package of papers on the desk in careful order.Last, from an inner compartment, he took one labelled "Ravenel," andstood looking at it with speculative eyes.

  The case was so complete. Quantrelle and his brother, a cure of Dieppe,of known integrity, had sworn themselves as witnesses, through an openwindow, of Madame de Nemours' marriage. But what of it? Katrine couldnever marry a man with a disputed name! Still looking at the bundle, hestruck a match. It flared up, sputtered, and went out, as though givinghim time for second thought. Resolutely he lighted another, set theflame to the papers for a second time, and in an instant whatevertrouble they contained for Frank Ravenel was nothing but smoke in thechimney.

  "God forgive me!" he cried, as he sat down to write the followingletter:

  DEAR RAVENEL,--You will remember, I said in my last interview that the matter upon which we spoke could not be fully proven until I received further letters from France. They have come, and I hasten to write you that the
marriage we spoke of was not a legal one, the witness, Quantrelle Le Rouge, being a great liar. It is thoroughly proven. Pray give yourself no more anxiety on the subject, and forgive me for doing what my duty prompted me to do. The thing is completely by with as far as I am concerned, and I have burned all of the papers relative to the matter. With best wishes for your complete restoration to health, I remain,

  Sincerely yours, DERMOTT MCDERMOTT.

  He folded the letter and sealed it, a curious smile upon his lips as hedid so. Afterward he began looking over securities and making a list ofthem in steady, fine writing for the work in the day to come.

  About eight he went to his hotel, bathed, dressed himself for the day,and neither of the facts that his heart was breaking, nor that he wasabout to shake the money market of New York, prevented him fromregarding himself critically in the mirror to see if he showedsuffering, nor from changing his neck-scarf to one of gallant red.

  Underneath the bitterness of his heart lay a desire to square accountswith Marix. But it was part of his nature to excuse the weak, and on theway down to Wall Street the remembrance of the broker's timid-lookingwife and the three little ones came to him. It was easy, after all, toforgive. Marix was too unintelligent to understand that it paid to behonest. "Perhaps," he reasoned, "God meant that even the fools andtraitors should be helped, too."

  Going into the stock-room, he looked over the quotations of the daybefore in an unimportant manner, waiting for Marix to come in.

  "Hello! Hello!" he cried, at sight of him, with a genial laugh, puttinga hand on each of the little broker's shoulders and looking down at himwith warning eyes. "I'm going on the floor myself to-day. It's been along time since I've been there. Ravenel and I have come to anunderstanding," his long, sinewy hands gripped Marix for a minute sohard they made him wince, "and I'm going on to protect his interests."

  The blue light of battle was in his eyes; his hat was far back on hishead and his hands thrust deep in his pockets as he waited for the gongto call him to the fight. He saw that many were regarding him curiously,and his cheeks flushed with the Celtic instinct to do the thingwell--dramatically well. He knew that, in the long night vigil, part ofhim had died forever, but with chin well up, like a knight of old, hewent, at the sound of the great bell, to battle for the happiness of thewoman he loved.