Consider the work of God: for who can make that straight, which he hath made crooked?--_Ecclesiastes_ vii, 13.
A few days after the disturbance in the dog-cart Geoffrey and MauriceRankin were dining, on a Sunday, with the Mackintoshes. After dinner awalk was proposed, and Margaret went out with them, very spick-and-spanand charming in an old black silk "made over," and with a bright bunchof common geraniums at her belt. She had invited the young lawyer partlybecause he had seemed so distrustful of Geoffrey, and she wished tobring the two more together, so that Maurice might see that he hadmisjudged him. In the course of their walk Geoffrey asked, for want ofsomething better to say:
"How goes the law, Rankin? Things stirring?"
"Might be worse," replied Maurice. "By the way, Margaret, I forgot totell you Mr. Bean actually brought in a client the other day."
"Somebody he had been drinking with, I suppose," said Margaret, who hadheard of Mr. Bean.
"Right you are. They supported each other into the office, and beforeBean sank into his chair I was introduced by him as his 'jun'orpar'ner.'"
"Could not Mr. Bean do the same every day? Supply the office by bringingup his friends when prepared to be lavish with money?"
"I'm afraid not. Bean would be always tipsy himself before the victimwas ready. Still, your idea is worth consideration. Of course nobodywould want law from Bean unless he were pretty far gone, and in thiscase the poor old chap knew no more about what was wanted than theinquirer."
"Had the client any money?" asked Geoffrey.
"Money? He was reeking with it. What he wanted, he said, was a quietlawyer. I told him that the quietness of our business was its strongpoint, only equaled, in fact, by the unpleasant grave. Then it appearedthat he had come on a trip from the States with a carpet-bag full ofmoney which he said he had borrowed, and he wished, in effect, to knowwhether the United States could take him back again, _vi et armis_. Itold him 'No,' and knocked ten dollars out of him before you could say'knife.'"
"You might have made it fifty while you were about it," said Geoffrey.
"Well, you see, the man was not entirely sober, and, after all, tendollars a word is fair average pay. I never charge more than that."
"You mean that the unfortunate was too sober to be likely to pay anymore," said Margaret.
Maurice shrugged his shoulders in deprecation of this idea.
Said Geoffrey: "I often meet Mr. Bean on the street. He is a very idleman; I know by the way he carries his pipe in his mouth."
"What has that to do with it?"
"Everything. He smokes with his pipe in the center of his mouth."
"Well?"
"Well, no one does that unless very old or very idle. Men get the habitfrom smoking all day while sitting down or lounging. No one can walkhurriedly with his pipe in that position; it would jar his front teethout. I have noticed that an active man invariably holds his pipe in theside of his mouth, where he can grasp it firmly."
"Hampstead, you should have been a detective."
"Such is genius," said Margaret. "Geoffrey has any quantity ofunprofitable genius."
"That reminds me that I once heard my grandfather telling my father thesame thing, but it was not very correct about my father."
"Indeed! By the way, Geoffrey, if it is not an impertinent question foryour future wife to ask, who _was_ your grandfather?"
This ignorance on the part of an engaged girl made Maurice cackle.
"Who _is_ he, you mean. He is still alive, I think, and as old as thehills."
"Dear me! How very strange that you never told me of his existencebefore!"
"His existence is not a very interesting one to me--in fact, quite thereverse; besides I don't think we have ever lacked a more interestingtopic, have we Margaret?"
"I imagine not," quoth Rankin dryly. Margaret stopped; she thought theremight be something "queer" about this grandfather that Geoffrey mightnot care to speak about before a third person. She merely said,therefore, intending to drop the matter gently:
"How very old the senior Mr. Hampstead must be?"
"Hampstead is only the family name. The old boy is Lord Warcote. I am asort of a Radical you know, Margaret, and the truth is I had a quarrelwith my family. Only for this, I might have gone into the matterbefore."
"Never mind going into anything unpleasant. You told my father, ofcourse, that you were a son of Mr. Manson Hampstead, one of the oldfamilies in Shropshire. And so you are. We will let it rest at that.Family differences must always be disagreeable subjects. Let us talkabout something else."
"Now we are on the subject, I might as well tell you all about it.First, I will secure Rankin's secrecy. Behold five cents! Mr. Rankin, Iretain you with this sum as my solicitor to advise when called uponconcerning the facts I am about to relate. You are bound now by yourprofessional creed not to divulge, are you not?"
"Drive on," said Maurice, "I'm an oyster."
"There is not a great deal to tell," said Geoffrey. "The unpleasant partof it has always made me keep the story entirely to myself. When I cameto this continent I was in such a rage with everything and everybodythat I abandoned the chance of letters of introduction. Nobody hereknows who I am. I have worked my own way to the exalted position inwhich you find me. A good while ago my father was in the Englishdiplomatic service, and he still retains, I believe, a responsible postunder the Government. Like a good many others, though, he was, althoughclever, not always quite clever enough, and in one episode of his life,in which I am interested, he failed to have things his own way. For tenyears he was in different parts of Russia, where his duties called him.He had acquired such a profound knowledge of Russian and other languagesthat these advantages, together with his other gifts, served to keep himlonger in a sort of exile for the simple reason that there were few, ifany, in the service who could carry out what was required as well as hecould himself. From his official duties and his pleasant manner hebecame well known in Russian society, and he counted among his intimatefriends several of the nobility who possessed influence in the country.After a long series of duties he and some young Russians, to whompassports were almost unnecessary, used to make long trips through thecountry in the mild seasons to shoot and fish. In this way some of theyoung nobles rid themselves of _ennui_, and reverted by an easytransition to the condition of their immediate ancestors. They had theirservants with them, and lived a life of conviviality and luxury even inthe wildest regions which they visited. When they entered a small townon these journeyings they did pretty much what they liked, and nobodydared to complain at the capital. If a small official provoked ordelayed them they horsewhipped him. In fact, what they delighted in wasgoing back to savagery and taking their luxuries with them, dashing overthe vast country on fleet horses, making a pandemonium whenever andwherever they liked; in short, in giving full swing to their Tartar andKalmuck blood. On one occasion my father was feeling wearied to deathwith red tape, but nobody was inclined at the time for anotherexpedition. He therefore obtained leave to go with a military detachmentto Semipalatinsk, from which town some prisoners had to be brought backto St. Petersburg. There was little trouble in obtaining his permit,especially as he had been partly over the road before. So he went withhis horses and servant as far as the railway would take him, and thenjoined a band of fifty wild-looking Cossacks and set out. When within ahundred and fifty versts from Semipalatinsk they encountered a warlikeband of about twenty-five well mounted Tartars returning from amarauding expedition. They had several horses laden with booty, alsosome female prisoners. It was the old story of one tribe of savagespillaging another. The Cossacks were out in the wilderness. Althoughsupposed to be under discipline, they were one and all freebooters tothe backbone. Their captain, under pretense of seeing right done,allowed an attack to be made by the Cossacks. They drove off the otherrobbers, ransacked the booty, took what they wanted, and under color ofgiving protection, took the women also, hoping to dispose of themquietly as slaves at some town. These women were then m
ounted on severalof the pack-horses, and the Cossacks rode off on their journey, leavingeverything else on the plain for the other robbers to retake.
"My father had kept aloof from the disturbance. It was none of hisbusiness. He sat on his horse and quietly laughed at the wholetransaction. He had become very Russian in a good many ways, and hecertainly knew what Cossacks were, and that any protest from him wouldonly be useless. It was simply a case of the biter bit. He joined theparty as they galloped on to make up for lost time.
"As for the women, it was now nothing to them that their captors hadchanged. Early in the morning their village had been pillaged and theirdefenders slain. It was all one to them, now. Slavery awaited themwherever they went. So they sat their horses with their usual ease,veiled their faces, and resigned themselves to their fate. But as theafternoon wore on, the wily captain began to think that my father wouldcertainly see through the marauding escapade of his, and that it wouldbe unpleasant to hear about it again from the authorities, and so hecast about him for the easiest way to deceive or propitiate him. Thatevening, as my father was sitting in his _kibitka_, the curtain wasraised and the captain smilingly led in one of the captive slaves--awoman of extraordinary beauty. And who do you think she was?"
Margaret turned pale. She grasped Geoffrey's arm, as her quickintelligence divined what was coming.
"No, no," she said. "You are not going to tell me that?"
"Yes," said Geoffrey with a pinched expression on his face. "That isjust what I am going to tell you. That poor slave--that ignorant andbeautiful savage was my mother."
Margaret was thunderstruck. She did not comprehend how things stood, butwith a ready solicitude for him in a time of pain, she passed her handthrough his arm and drew herself closer to him, as they walked along.
As for Maurice, he ground his teeth as he witnessed Margaret's lovingsolicitude. It was a relief to him to rasp out his dislike for Geoffreyunder his breath. "I always knew he was a wolf," he muttered to himself.
"You will see now," continued Geoffrey, "why I preferred not to be knownin this country. To be one of a family with a title in it did notcompensate me for being a thorough savage on my mother's side.
"But I will continue my story. The beauty of the woman attracted myfather. He spoke to her kindly in her own language and made her partakeof his dinner with him. He thought that in any case he could save herfrom being sold into slavery by the Cossacks.
"These wild half-brothers of mine took it as a matter of course that myfather would be pleased with his acquisition, but they suggested _vodki_and got it--so that my mother was in reality purchased from them for afew bottles of whisky.
"They went on toward Semipalatinsk and got the prisoners. My fatherintended to leave the woman at that town, but she wished to see theWhite Czar and his great city, of which she had heard, and she begged sohard to be taken back with him that he began to think he might as welldo so.
"The fact was that a whim seized him to see her dressed as a European,and as they waited at Semipalatinsk for ten days before returning, hehad time to have garments made which were as near to the European stylesas he could suggest. It was evidently the clothes that decided thematter. In her coarse native habiliments she was simply a savage to afastidious man, but when she was arrayed in a familiar looking dressassisted by the soft silken fabrics of the East, he was bewitched. Shetold him, on the journey back, how her father had always counted uponhaving enough to live on for the rest of his life when she was sold tothe traders who purchased slaves for the harems at Constantinople.
"My father took her to St. Petersburg with him, where they lived forthree years together. Such a thing as marrying her never entered hishead. He simply lived like his friends. I never found out how much shewas received in society--no doubt she had all the society shewanted--but I did hear from an old friend of my father, who spoke of herwith much respect, that her beauty created the greatest sensation in St.Petersburg, and that when she went to the theatre the spectators wereall like astronomers at a transit of Venus. She made good use of hertime, however, and at the end of three years she could speak and writeEnglish a little.
"At the end of three years from the time he met her, my father wascalled back to England. He left her in his house in St. Petersburg withall the money necessary, and came home. I think he intended to go backto her when he got ready. But she settled that question by coming toEngland herself. She could not bear the separation after three months ofwaiting. Imagine the scene when she arrived! Lord and Lady Warcote werehaving a dinner party, when in came my mother, as lovely as a dream, andthrowing her arms round my father she forgot her English and addressedhim fondly in the Tartar dialect.
"My father, for a moment, was paralyzed; but, in spite of the enervatingeffect of this exotic's sudden appearance, he could not help feelingproud of her when he saw how magnificent she was in her new Pariscostume, and it occurred to him that her wonderful beauty would carrythings off with a high hand for a while, until he could perhaps get herback to Russia. She, however, after the moment in which she greeted him,stood up to her full height, and glancing rapidly around the table atall the speechless guests, recognized my grandfather from a photographshe had seen. Lord Warcote was sitting--starchy and speechless--at theend of the table.
"'Ah! zo! Oo are ze little faaezer!' And before he could say a word thehandsomest woman in England had kissed him, and had taken his hand andpatted it."
"Another brisk look around, and she recognized Lady Warcote in the sameway. She floated round the table to greet 'dear mutter.' But here shesaw she was making a mistake--that everything was not all right. LadyWarcote was not so susceptible to female beauty as she might have been.She arose from her chair, her face scarlet with anger, and motioned mymother away.
"'Manson,' she said, addressing my father, 'is this woman your wife?'"
"My father had now recovered from his shock, and was laughing til thetears ran down his face. My mother, seeing his merriment, took courageagain and said gayly:
"'Yes, yes! He have buy me--for one--two--tree bottle _vodki_.' Shecounted the numbers on the tips of her fingers, her shapely handsflashing with jewels. Then her laughter chimed merrily in with myfather's guffaw. She ran back to him, took his head in both her handsand said, imitating a long-drawn tone of childish earnestness:
"'It was cheap--che-ap. I was wort' more dan _vodki_.'
"Lord Warcote had lived a fast life in his earlier days. After Naturehad allowed him a rare fling for sixty years she was beginning towithdraw her powers, and my grandfather had become as religious as hehad been fast. The effect of my mother's presence upon him was to makehim suddenly young again, and although he soon assumed his new Puritangravity he could not keep his eyes off her. On a jury he would haveacquitted her of anything, and when she turned around imperiously andtold a servant to bring a chair, 'Good Lord!' he said, 'she's a Russianprincess!' and he jumped up like an old courtier to get the chairhimself. The more he heard of her story the more interested he became,and when he had heard it all, nothing would suffice but an immediatemarriage. My father protested on several grounds, but his protests madeno difference to the old man. His will, he said, would be law until hedied, and even after he died, and, what with my mother's beauty, whichmade him take what he understood to be a strong religious interest inher behalf, and one thing and another, he got quite fanatical on thepoint. He forgot himself several times, and swore he would cut fatheroff with nothing if he refused.
"The end of it was that they were married at once, and afterward I wasborn. My poor mother had no intention of giving father trouble when shecame to England, neither did she wish in the slightest degree for aformal marriage, the usefulness of which she did not understand. Shesimply felt that she could not do without him. And I don't think he everregretted the step he was driven to. She had some failings, but she wasas true and loving to him as a woman could be, besides being, for ashort time, considered a miracle of beauty in London.
"I can only remember her dimly
as going out riding with father. They sayher horsemanship was the most perfect thing ever seen in the huntingfield. It was the means of her death at last. The trouble was that shedid not know what fear was while on horseback. She thought a horse oughtto do anything. Father has told me that when they were out together afreak would seize her suddenly, and away she would go across country formiles--riding furiously, like her forefathers, waving her whip high inthe air for him to follow, and taking everything on the full fly. If herhorse could not get over anything he had to go through it. At last, oneday, an oak fence stopped her horse forever, and she was carried homedead. I was three years old then."
Geoffrey paused.
The others remained silent. His strong magnetic voice, rendered morepowerful by the vehement way he interpreted the last part of the storyin his actions, impressed them. They were walking in the Queen's Park atthis time, and it did not matter that he was more than usually graphic.When he spoke of the wild riding of the Tartars, he sprang forward fullof a bodily eloquence. For an instant, while poised upon his toes, hiscane waving high aloft, his head and shoulders thrown back in an ecstasyof abandon, and his left hand outstretched as if holding the reins, heseemed to electrify them, and to give them the whole scene as itappeared in his own mind. Rankin shuddered. Involuntarily he gasped out:
"Hampstead! For God's sake, don't do that!"
"Why not?" said Geoffrey, as he resumed his place beside them, while thewild flash died out of his eyes.
"Because no man could do it like that unless--because, in fact, you doit too infernally well."
Rankin felt that Margaret must be suffering. It seemed to him that.Geoffrey had really become a Tartar marauder for a moment. Perhaps hehad.
"Don't mind my saying this," Maurice added, with apology. "Really, Icould not help it."
Geoffrey laughed. Margaret was grave. Rankin strayed on a few steps inadvance, and Geoffrey, taking advantage of it, whispered quickly. "Whatare you thinking of, Margaret?"
"I was thinking I saw a wild man," said Margaret truthfully. Then, to bemore pleasant, she added, "And I thought that if Tartar marauders wereall like you, Geoffrey, I would rather prefer them as a class."
Maurice, who was unconsciously _de trop_ at this moment, turned andsaid:
"You have got me 'worked up' over your story, and now I demand to knowmore. Do not say that 'the continuation of this story will be publishedin the New York Ledger of the current year.' Go ahead."
"Anything more I have to tell," said Geoffrey, "only relates to myself."
"Never mind. For once you are interesting. Drive on."
"Well, where was I? Oh, yes! Well, my father married again six monthsafter my mother's death. He married a woman who had been a flame of hisin early youth, and who had developed a fine temper in her virginsolitude. They had six children. I was packed off to school early, andwas kept there almost continually. After that I was sent away travelingwith a tutor, a sanctimonious fellow who urged me into all the devilmentthe Continent could provide, so that he might really enjoy himself. ThenI came home and got rid of him. It was at this time that I first heardfrom my father about my mother and my birth. The story did me no good. Igot morbid over it. Previously I had thought myself of the best blood inEngland. We were entitled as of right to royal quarterings, and the newintelligence struck all the peacock pride out of me. I felt like a burstballoon. The only thing I cared about was to go to Russia and see theplace my mother came from. I got letters from my father to some of hisold friends at St. Petersburg, and with their influence found my way tothe very village my mother came from. Some of the villagers rememberedquite well the raid when my mother was carried off and how herenterprising father had been killed. What made me wonder was where mymother got her aristocratic beauty. Among the undiluted, pug-nosed,bestial Tartars such beauty was impossible. I found, however, that mymother's mother had also been a captive. No one knew where she camefrom. Most likely from Circassia or Persia. The villagers at the time ofthe raid were the remnants of a large predatory tribe that formerly usedto sally forth on long excursions covering many hundreds of miles. Atthat time--the time of their strength--they lived almost entirely byrobbery, and their name was dreaded everywhere within a radius of fivehundred miles. I have always hoped that my mother's mother was of somebetter race than the Tartar. There is no doubt, however, that mymother's father was a full-blooded Tartar, though he may have hadstraighter features than the generality of them. I found there a youngerbrother of my mother. He was a wallowing, drunken, thieving pig, thisuncle of mine, but under the bloated look he had acquired from excesses,one could trace straight and possibly handsome features. As the sonwould most likely resemble his father, I can only infer that the fatherwas not so bad-looking as he might have been, and so, with one thing andanother, I came to understand the possibility of my mother's beauty.
"It may have been morbid of me. I should have left the matter alone, forI believed in 'race' so much that my discoveries ground me into dust.Nothing satisfied me, however, unless I went to the bottom of it. Iwatched this uncle of mine for two or three weeks, and made a friend ofhim, merely to see if I could trace in him any likeness to myself. Imade him drunk. I made him sober. I made him run and walk and ride.Sometimes I thought I traced the likeness clearly, and then again Ichanged my mind. I tried him in other ways, leaving in my quarters smalldesirable objects partly concealed. They always disappeared. He stolethem with the regularity of clockwork. I can laugh over these mattersnow, speaking of them for the first time in twelve years. At that time Igroaned over it, and still persevered in trying to find out what coulddo me no good. I am so like my father that I could find no resemblancein me to the Tartar uncle. But at last I got a 'sickener.' While talkingto him I noticed that he made his gestures pointing the two firstfingers; instead of all or only one finger. I watched his dirty handswhile he mumbled on, half drunk, and then I saw that for a pastime, as aWestern Yankee might whittle or pick his teeth, this man threw the thirdand fourth fingers of his left hand out of joint and in again. He saidhis father and also, he had heard, his grandfather could do this withease.
"An hour afterward, I think I must have been a good ten milesoff--flying back to civilized Russia, my servants after me, thinking Iwas mad. Perhaps I was a little queer in the head at the time."
"What made you go off in that way?" asked Maurice, who did not see theconnection.
Geoffrey made no verbal reply, but he held out his left hand with thetwo last fingers out of joint. Then he showed how easily he could putthem "in" and "out."
"None of my father's family can do this, but my mother could. Both mymother and the pig of an uncle held out these two fingers in theirgestures, and curled the others up so, and I do the same. I can laughnow, but it killed me at the time.
"I traveled all over the world before I came back to England. Myhalf-brothers were then pretty well grown up and were fully acquaintedwith everything concerning my birth and my mother's history. Mystep-mother hated me because I was the eldest son, and she poisoned herchildren's minds against me. She sought out my old tutor, who, when paidwell, told her a lot of vile and untrue stories about me. With these shetried to poison my father's mind also in regard to me. I was moody,morbid, and restless. They looked at me as if I was some other kind ofcreature, the son of a savage, and it galled me, for all my subsequenttravelings had never removed the sting of my birth. Some deploreillegitimacy. Rubbish! Wrong selection, not want of a ceremony, is thereal sin that is visited unto the children.
"After my return home I could have died with more complacency than Ifelt in living. Even my father seemed at last to be turned against me bymy step-mother. One day while we were at dinner my step-mother, whopossessed a fiend's temper, had a hot discussion with me about somethingwhich I have forgotten. Words were not well chosen on either side, andshe flew into a tantrum. I remember saying at last: 'Madame, it wouldtake two or three keepers to keep you in order.' Everybody was againstme, of course, and when her own eldest son half arose and addres
sed me,his remarks met with applause. What he said to me, in quiet scorn, was:
"'Our mother's temper may not be good, sir, but we don't find itnecessary to send a keeper with her to keep her from stealing.'
"I have since found out, in a roundabout way, that my beautiful motherpreferred to steal a thing out of a shop rather than pay for it. Myfather had always looked at this weakness of hers as a most humorousthing. Anything she did charmed him. Sometimes she would show him whatshe had stolen, and it would be returned or paid for. However, at thetime that this was said to me at the table I did not know of thesefacts. I arose, amid the derisive laughter that followed the 'good hit,'and demanded of my father how he dared to allow my mother's name to beinsulted. I secretly felt at the time that the slur upon her honestymight be well founded, but the possible truth of it made the insult allthe worse to me.
"This was the last straw. I felt myself growing wild. Father did notlook at me. He merely went on with his dinner, laughing quietly at theold joke and at my discomfiture. He said: 'I can not see any insult,when what Harry says is perfectly true--and a devilish good joke itwas.'
"I did not appreciate that joke. I was almost crazy at the time. Myfather's laughter seemed the cruelest thing I had ever heard. I 'turnedto,' as Jack Cresswell would say, and cursed them all, individually andcollectively, and then took my hat and left the house, which I havenever seen since and never intend to see again."
"And what about the tutor that told the stories about you?" askedRankin.
"Aha, Maurice," continued Geoffrey, brightening up from painfulmemories, "you have a noble mind for sequences. What about the tutor?Just so, what about him?" and Geoffrey slapped Rankin on the backheartily, as a pleasanter memory presented itself gratefully.
"I wish you would not strike me like that. I am thinking of going tochurch to-night, unless disabled. What about your beastly tutor? Forgoodness' sake, do drive on!"
"Oh, well, I can't tell you much about that, not just now. Of course,the first thing I did was to pay him a call at his lodgings in London.Your great mind saw that this was natural. That call was a relief. Icame out when it was finished and told somebody to look after him, andthen took passage for New York in a vessel that sailed from London onthe same day."
Margaret and Rankin smiled at the grim way in which he spoke about thevisit to the tutor.
"On arriving in New York I got a small position in a Wall Streetbroker's office, and learned the business. From that I went, with theassistance of their recommendation, into a bank. While in this bank Ifell in with some young fellows from Montreal, and afterward stayed withthem in Montreal during holidays. They wanted me to come to that city,and I liked the English way of the Canadians, so I came. On entering theVictoria Bank I got good recommendations from the one I had left. FromMontreal I was moved to the head office, and here I am."
There was much to render Margaret thoughtful in this story that Geoffreytold. She was pleased to find that he belonged to the English nobility,because it seemed to assist her opinion when, with the confidence oflove, she had placed him in a nobility such as she hoped could existamong mankind. Otherwise, the fact that there was a title in his familymeant very little to her. Her own father's family would have declinedany title in England involving change of name. What did affect her as athinking woman, and one given to the study of natural history, was theawful gap on the other side of the house. Following so closely upon theassurance that he was well born, it was a cruel wrench. His interestswere hers now, and it seemed as if they suffered jointly--she, throughhim. She felt that all this bound them more together, and she did herbest to appear unconscious and gay.
He looked at her when he had finished, and, behind their smiles, eachsaw that the other was trying to make the best of things--that there wassomething now between them to be feared, which might rise up in thefuture and give them pain.