word for it, love is the only hope of pulling offmarriage successfully, and even then it's not easy. As for Eugenia, Ithink she's made a fool of herself and is going to be unhappy, but I'drather do what she has done than what you're contemplating. At leastshe cared for that fellow--"
"I'm glad you feel like that, darling," said Crystal, "because itisn't Eddie I'm engaged to, but Ben Moreton. He's waiting downstairsnow."
Mr. Cord started up--his eyes shining like black flames.
"By God! Crystal," he said, "you sha'n't marry thatfellow--Eugenia--perhaps--but not you."
"But, father, you said yourself, you thought he was a fine--"
"I don't care what I said," replied Mr. Cord, and, striding to thedoor, he flung it open and called in a voice that rolled about thestone hall: "Mr. Moreton, Mr. Moreton! Come up here, will you?"
Ben came bounding up the stairs like a panther. Cord beckoned him inwith a sharp gesture and shut the door.
"This won't do at all, Moreton," he said. "You can't have Crystal."
Ben did not answer; he looked very steadily at Cord, who went on:
"You think I can't stop it--that she's of age and that you wouldn'ttake a penny of my money, anyhow. That's the idea, isn't it?"
"That's it," said Ben.
Cord turned sharply to Crystal. "Does what I think make any differenceto you?" he asked.
"A lot, dear," she answered, "but I don't understand. You never seemedso much opposed to the radical doctrine."
"No, it's the radical, not the doctrine, your father objects to," saidBen.
"Exactly," answered Mr. Cord. "You've put it in a nutshell. Crystal,I'm going to tell you what these radicals really are--they'refailures--everyone of them. Sincere enough--they want the worldchanged because they haven't been able to get along in it as itis--they want a new deal because they don't know how to play theircards; and when they get a new hand, they'll play it just as badly.It's not their theories I object to, but them themselves. You think ifyou married Moreton you'd be going into a great new world of idealism.You wouldn't. You'd be going into a world of failure--of the pettiest,most futile quarrels in the world. The chief characteristic of the manwho fails is that he always believes it's the other fellow's fault;and they hate the man who differs with them by one per cent more thanthey hate the man who differs by one hundred. Has there ever been arevolution where they did not persecute their fellow revolutionistsworse than they persecuted the old order, or where the new rule wasn'tmore tyrannical than the old?"
"No one would dispute that," said Ben. "It is the only way to winthrough to--"
"Ah," said Cord, "I know what you're going to say, but I tell you,you win through to liberal practices when, and only when, theconservatives become converted to your ideas, and put them through foryou. That's why I say I have no quarrel with radical doctrines--theyare coming, always coming, but"--Cord paused to give his words fullweight--"I hate the radical."
There was a little pause. Crystal, who had sunk into a low chair,raised her eyes to Ben, as if she expected a passionate contradictionfrom him, but it did not come.
"Yes," he said, after a moment, "that's all true, Mr. Cord--withlimitations; but, granting it, you've put my side, too. What are we tosay of the conservative--the man who has no vision of his own--whohas to go about stealing his beliefs from the other side? He's veryefficient at putting _them_ into effect--but efficient as a tool, asa servant. Look at the mess he makes of his own game when he tries toact on his own ideas. He crushes democracy with an iron efficiency,and he creates communism. He closes the door to trade-unionism andmakes a revolution. That's efficiency for you. We radicals are notso damned inefficient, while we let the conservatives do our work forus."
"Well, let it be revolution, then," said Cord. "I believe you'reright. It's coming, but do you want to drag a girl like Crystal intoit? Think of her! Say you take her, as I suppose a young fellow likeyou can do. She'd have perhaps ten years of an exciting division ofallegiance between your ideas and the way she had been brought up, andthe rest of her life (for, believe me, as we get older we all returnto our early traditions)--the rest of her life she'd spend regrettingthe ties and environment of her youth. On the other hand, if she givesyou up she will have regrets, too, I know, but they won't wreck herand embitter her the way the others will."
Ben's face darkened. No man not a colossal egotist could hear sucha prophesy with indifference. He did not at once answer, and then heturned to Crystal.
"What do you think of that?" he asked.
To the surprise of both men, Crystal replied with a laugh. "I waswondering," she said, "when either of you would get round to askingwhat I thought of it all."
"Well, what do you think?" said Cord, almost harshly.
Crystal rose, and, slipping her arm through his, leaned her headon the point of her father's shoulder--he was of a good height. "Ithink," she said, "you both talk beautifully. I was so proud of youboth--saying such profound things so easily, and keeping your tempersso perfectly" (both brows smoothed out), "and it was all the morewonderful because, it seemed to me, you were both talking about thingsyou knew nothing about."
"What do you mean?" burst from both men with simultaneousastonishment.
"Ben, dear, father doesn't know any radicals--except you, and he'sonly seen you twice. Father dear, I don't believe Ben ever talkedfive minutes with an able, successful conservative until he came hereto-day."
"You're going to throw me over, Crystal?" said Ben, seeing her posemore clearly than he heard her words.
"No," said Mr. Cord, bitterly, "she's going to throw over an old manin favor of a young one."
"You silly creatures," said Crystal, with a smile that made the wordsaffectionate and not rude. "How can I ever throw either of you over?I'm going to be Ben's wife, and I am my father's daughter. I'm goingto be those two things for all my life."
Ben took her hand. She puzzled him, but he adored her. "But someday, Crystal," he said, "you will be obliged to choose between ourviews--mine or your father's. You must see that."
"He's right," her father chimed in. "This is not a temporarydifference of opinion, you know, Crystal. This cleavage is as old asmankind--the radical against the conservative. Time doesn't reconcilethem."
Again the idea came to her: "They do love to form gangs, the poordears." Aloud she said: "Yes, but the two types are rarely pure ones.Why, father, you think Ben is a radical, but he's the most hideboundconservative about some things--much worse than you--about free verse,for instance. I read a long editorial about it not a month ago. Hereally thinks anyone who defends it ought to be deported to somepoetic limbo. Ben, you think my father is conservative. But there's agreat scandal in his mental life. He's a Baconian--"
"He thinks Bacon wrote the plays!" exclaimed Ben, really shocked.
"Certainly I do," answered Mr. Cord. "Every man who uses his mind mustthink so. There is nothing in favor of the Shakespeare theory, excepttradition--"
He would have talked for several hours upon the subject, but Crystalinterrupted him by turning to Ben and continuing what she had meant tosay:
"When you said I should have to choose between your ideas, you meantbetween your political ideas. Perhaps I shall, but I won't make mychoice, rest assured, until I have some reason for believing that eachof you knows something--honestly knows something about the other one'spoint of view."
"I don't get it, exactly," said Ben.
She addressed Mr. Cord.
"Father," she went on, "Ben has a little flat in Charles Street, andan old servant, and that's where I'm going to live."
Her father, though bitterly wounded, had regained his sardonic calm."Perhaps," he said, "you'll bring him up to Seventy-ninth Street forSunday dinner now and then."
Crystal shook her head. "No, dear," she said. "That isn't the way it'sgoing to be. As soon as I get settled and have time to look about me,I shall take another little flat for you. You will live with us, for afew months in the winter, and get to know Ben's friends--his gang,as you w
ould say--get to know them not as a philanthropist, or anemployer, or an observer, but just as one of our friends--see if theyreally are the way you think they are. And then, in March you shall gooff to Palm Beach or Virginia just as usual."
"That's a fine idea," said Mr. Cord,