*EPILOGUE*
Three years after the close of these events there were gathered in a boxof the Metropolitan Opera, Mr. and Mrs. Gunther, senior, the TeddyBeechers, Bruce Gunther and a Miss Clarice Fanning, of the VirginiaFannings, a young girl demure, direct, with already in the youthfulinstincts of her pose more than a suggestion of the dignity and elegancewhich would come to grace the woman. From time to time, by a littlemovement of her fan, she brought to her shoulder for a whispered commentBruce Gunther, who, though he had seated himself behind Mrs. Beecher,was compensated by the advantage of thus exchanging glances. All theselittle messages, which the young girl flattered herself were so cleverlyexecuted as to remain invisible, were seen by every one in the box withdiscreet enjoyment.
At the end of the act the two young men excused themselves and departedto make a round of visits.
"Nan's charming, Ted," said Gunther, who saw them both for the firsttime since their long stay in Europe. He added with the extraenthusiasm with which a man of the world conveys his surprise at anunexpected development: "By George! she has the manners of a duchess!The governor, crabby old critic, too, is quite won over by her."
"She has developed beautifully," said Beecher, with a certainproprietary responsibility which young husbands feel deeply. "She is aremarkable woman! ... remarkable!"
"Well, you fooled all the prophets," said Gunther in his blunt way.
"How so?"
"We gave you a year, at the most," said Gunther, who stopped short andlooked at his friend as though to ask the explanation of such a miracle.
"My wife adores me," said Beecher, with a smile.
Gunther smiled to himself and thought that if the wife had developed asthough by right into the sure and brilliant woman of the world, thehusband at heart had retained the same boyish irreverence of themysterious depths of life.
"You ought to get into something, Ted," he said abruptly. "You can'tloaf in America! ... I'll give you an opening."
"That's why the Missus brought me back," said Beecher. "Look out, I maytake up that offer!"
This reply, unconsciously delivered, gave Gunther the first glimpse oflight into the perplexing success of his friend's marriage.
"Well, where's the first call?" he said, registering in his mind thislast perception.
"I want to drop in on Mrs. Fontaine, Mrs. Slade," ... he considered amoment and added, "Mrs. Bloodgood, too, I am anxious to see..."
"Don't forget Emma Fornez ... you ought to go behind," said Gunther, forthe opera was _Carmen_.
"Yes," said Beecher, with a little hesitation.
"Next act ... Let's drop in on Louise Fontaine, first..."
"There are reasons ... just at present..." said Gunther with a slightfrown. "Anyhow, here's Slade's box--let's begin here."
Mrs. Slade at their entrance rose directly, and came to meet them in theantechamber.
"How nice of you to come here first," she said with genuine pleasure,extending both her hands. "Mr. Gunther, go into the box ... I want a fewminutes alone with Teddy!" She turned to Beecher, motioning him to aseat on the cushioned settee in the little pink and white room that waslike a jewel box. "I saw you at once ... Your wife has made asensation!"
"It is you, Rita, who are astonishing!" he said abruptly.
"How so?" she said, already comprehending the frank wonder in his eyes.
"You always did fascinate us, you know," he said, reclining a bit, thebetter to take in the elegant sinuosities of her pose. "But that wasnothing to you now ... You are the opera itself!"
"Not quite yet," she said, with a confident little bob of the head. Sheadded, "I am happy!"
In truth, just as men of conscious greatness who, in the period of theirstruggles, have a certain brusque and impatient unease, suddenly in theday of their success acquire a dignity and a radiating charm thatastonishes, so in her a similar transformation had operated. The oldfeline restlessness, the swift and nervous changes from Slavicsomnolence to sparkling energy, has been subdued in a clear serenity,and as she received the flattering tribute of the young man who had beenassociated with her period of uncertainty, there was in her smile a newgraciousness that was not without its authority.
"You too are happy!--it shows!" she said after the moment which sheallowed Beecher to study her.
"Very!"
"You have children?"
"Two." Then recalling with a little pardonable malice the intention ofhis visit, he said: "You were a bad prophet, Rita! ... You remember?"
"I do."
"Well?..."
"Well, I underestimated your intelligence, my dear Teddy," she said,with a fugitive smile. "You are settling in America?"
"Yes, the Missus has planned to make me a captain of finance," he saidwith a laugh. "However, I am ready for something active."
"Tell your wife," she said irrelevantly, "that I will come to see herafter the next act. My husband returns tomorrow ... save the nightafter for us ... I want to be as good a friend to her as you have beento me! ... Give my message exactly!"
"I promise!"
All at once his eyes, which had been searching, rested on her left hand.On the fourth finger, guarded by the gold band of her marriage, was theruby ring.
"It's the same, isn't it?" he asked.
"I always wear it," she said, raising it to her eyes. "It is a fetish."
"We ran across Garraboy a couple of times ... He married her, you know."
"She married him, you mean..."
"Yes, that would be more correct ... watches the beggar like a hound ...a pleasant life he has of it! ... By the way, did the story about thering ever leak out?"
"Never!" She rose, as though feeling the end of the intermission."Tell me one thing, Teddy...."
"A dozen!"
"Did you tell your wife I advised you not to marry?"
"Never!"
"Don't! ... There are things a woman doesn't forgive, and I want to begood friends!"
Beecher nodded.
Gunther came out, and she gave them her fingers, remaining tall andstately, her head inclined a little pensively, until they had left.
"Most remarkable woman here!" said Gunther briefly. "In a year or somore she'll be the undisputed leader."
"What about John G.?"
"The coming man. You know we're in close relations with him. TheGovernor has a great admiration for him, and you know it isn't often theGovernor is taken that way!"
"What's he doing?"
"Railroad unification, territorial development ... only man in thiscountry who can appreciate what the Canadian Pacific is doing!"
"I thought he was considered rather a freebooter?"
"So he was. Big men change when they get what they want. He had aninterview with the old man, and laid his cards on the table. Governorsaid it was the frankest confidence he'd ever heard. When he went intothe railroad field, it was at the mercy of a lot of clever littlestock-jobbers, who were playing it like a game of roulette. Slade'sdriven 'em out, broken their backs, bankrupted them ... Oh! he strikeshard! ... Now there's a real railroad policy, with a national object."
"You seem quite enthusiastic over him yourself," said Beecher, glancingat the plates on the boxes.
"I am. He's a constructive ... that's what we want!"
"When did all this happen?"
"A couple of months after that affair of the Atlantic Trust."
Beecher stopped, and with a gesture showed his companion a plate onwhich was inscribed:
ENOS BLOODGOOD.
"I never can forget Majendie that night," he said, sobered by therecollection of the events in which he had been such an agitatedspectator. "By Jove, he was true blue!"
"If he'd had the nerve to face the music he'd be a rich man to-day,"said Gunther, meditatively.
"The Atlantic Trust is stronger than ever. Of course, technically,Majendie did things he had no right to do, but do you know, everyinvestment he made h
as turned out enormously profitable! Queer how oneman drops out and another pops up."
"I wonder how much of it was business, and how much was..." Beecherbroke off and a second time gestured in the direction of the box.
"Who knows?" said Gunther, with a shrug of his shoulders.
Beecher glanced down the corridor to assure himself there was yet time,and opened the door.
In the front row of the box Mrs. Bloodgood was laughing gaily with threeor four young men who were bending flatteringly over her. In the backBloodgood was seated, dozing in a corner. Beecher hardly recognizedhim. Of the once rugged physique nothing remained but a senilefluttering. Some mysterious disease had struck him down and marked hishours. At this moment Mrs. Bloodgood, aware of a shadow in the doorway,turned and met the profound and memory-troubled gaze of the young man.She recognized him and in the same moment divined his thoughts. By amovement which she could not control, she brought her fan, which hadbeen extended in a tantalizing gesture under the eyes of one of hersatellites, into a protective barrier, as though to shield herself fromthe too frank melancholy of this disturbing gaze. Their eyes met.Beecher inclined his head. It was at the same time a salutation and anadieu.
He found Gunther outside their box.
"The old fellow's in a pretty bad way," said his friend, noticing hisdisturbed look.
"It wasn't that!..."
"Yes,--she's taking her revenge!" said Gunther with a laugh.
To shake off this impression Beecher touched his friend on the arm, andforcing a smile, said, with a nod towards the box where Miss Fanning waswaiting:
"So it's serious, Bruce?"
"But not for publication..." said Gunther with a nod.
Beecher would have liked to put a further question, one which hadpresented itself already at the thought of Louise Fontaine; but herefrained, for he was aware in his friend of a certain new grimness andimplacability of purpose which, as in his father, had the effect ofwithdrawing him from the ordinary club familiarity.
After the second act he went behind the scenes to greet Emma Fornez, whohad just received an ovation.
The diva, with the same cry of delight in which she recognized him,asked him what he thought of her success.
"You have reached the top.... Every new _Carmen_ must now be advertisedas greater than Emma Fornez!" he answered with a bow.
"Ah, you have learned how to make compliments! ... Bravo!" sheexclaimed. She advanced her head, pointing to a little spot under herjeweled ear. "There! ... your recompense! ... You look as big a boy asever! ... Tell me everything--all at once! ... Victorine, close thedoor. I see no one--_tu m'entends_? ... I am too red tonight, _hein_?"
"Not from the boxes!"
"_Si, si_! ... I must be more pale ... Sit down, sit down!" Sheenveloped her shoulders in a shawl, and studied her face in the flashingmirror, pulling her make-up box towards her. "You have come back ...for good, Teddy?"
"Yes!"
"You are always married?"
"Yes!"
"That's a pity--_enfin_! ... Happy?"
"Very!"
"Too bad! ... And you have come _pour tirer la langue a Emma Fornez_ ...who tried to frighten you!"
"Exactly!" said Beecher, laughing.
"Oh, you needn't be so conceited about it! If you are still livingtogether--it is because ..." she stopped a moment to correct the beadyfringe of the eyes, "because your wife is a very, very clever woman!"
"What?"
"Oh, just that! ... and because she finds she can lead you aroundconveniently by the nose ... just so!" She leaned over and illustratedher meaning with a little tweak before he could defend himself.
"I see, you are quite furious that we are not divorced!"
She shrugged her shoulders.
"How many months is it?..."
"Three years ... Three and a half!"
"Bah! there is still hope!"
To tease her for this, he drew back, grinning with elation.
"Oh, you are having a beautiful time of it!" she said, watching him inthe mirror. "It amuses you very much! ... But just you wait!" Sheraised her hand, counting the fingers. "Three, four, five--five years!That is the worst bridge of all! ... Even my old Jacquot--poorsoul--stood me for five years! ... Just wait!" Then, struck by a suddenreflection, she proceeded to revenge herself. "If you are happy, I wasright, after all! You remember ... first time I saw Charters ... I said'it is not an actress, it is a woman!' ..." She emphasized the pointwith a satisfied shrug. "I was right, and there you are!"
"Well, Emma, don't let's fight," he said, hugely amused. "I'm glad tosee you again!"
"I, too," she said, tapping his arm, and turning her darkened facetowards him for better inspection. "Better so, _hein_? ... So you arerich now, Teddy ... An uncle was good enough to die?"
"Two!..."
"Ah! ... what a pity! ... And now you are spoiled!" She began to softenthe shadows of the eyes. "Tell me one thing..."
"Yes?..."
"You ... you did not tell her--the wife--about our littleconspiracy?--the night of the cowboy party, _hein_?..." As he hesitatedshe caught the accusatory look in his eyes, and she wheeled about."_Comment_! ... You were so stupid! ... _Dieu! que les hommes sontsots_!"
"Nonsense! ... she laughed over it!" he said, recovering himself."Besides, she had guessed it already!"
"My dear Teddy," she said, in very bad humor, "I take back all I said... You were born a husband--typical! ideal!--You would be content withany one! ... with Victorine, even!"
She flung the rabbit's foot furiously among the pigments.
"_Allons_, we might just as well say adieu!"
"Why?"
"She does not know you have come?"
"No, but..."
"Well, well ... don't be fool enough to tell her! ... Go right back now.Make a call in some box where she can see you, and escape a good..."She stopped, shaking her hand in the direction of his ear.
"You are mistaken!" he began, flushing. "You don't know her..."
"Mistaken ... tra-la-la! ... and I know her! ... All I have to do is tosee you, my poor Teddy, to understand ... absolutely ... in every littledetail ... the woman who makes you so ... So--adieu!"
"It is not as tragic as all that," he said, laughing, but giving hishand.
"Adieu! ... adieu!"
"I may come back ... when I am divorced?"
"That will never happen!" she persisted, vindictively. "She has tamedyou ... you are a domestic animal ... a house pet ... like the cat andthe poodle dog!"
"_Au revoir_, Emma," he said, refusing to be irritated.
"Not good-by!" She took up a thread, broke it with a vicious jerk, andlet the ends float away. "Victorine, _depeche-toi donc_!"
Beecher, who had started with the intention of extracting a legitimaterevenge, had received little satisfaction from his two interviews.Nevertheless, he was not so naive as to reject Emma Fornez's advice. Hewent directly to Mrs. Craig Fontaine's box. Louise, as though she hadwaited impatiently his coming, started at once from her chair, meetinghim in the privacy of the antechamber. He was struck at once by theconstrained tensity of her glance.
"You are in the Gunthers' box," she said, directly the first greetingswere over. "Where is Bruce? Why didn't he come with you?"
"We separated. I went behind to see Madame Fornez..." he said lamely.
She was not deceived by his answer, made a rapid calculation and saidabruptly:
"Teddy, tell me the truth. Don't refuse me! ... You may be doing me afavor ... the greatest! ... Is Bruce engaged? That little girl in thebox?"
Between them there had been the fullest loyalty, and a confidence sinceschool days. He was not ignorant, therefore, of her infatuation for hisfriend, though what dramatic turn it might have taken in the years ofhis absence, he could only speculate.
"Yes, it is true," he said. "It is not to be known ... With you,Louise, it is different: you ought to know!"
She sat down, and he was frigh
tened by the swift, ashen pallor thatrushed into her face. Alarmed, he made a movement towards her.
"Wait!" she said, faintly. "There are two questions I must ask ... Didhe, Bruce, send you to tell me this?"
"No...." He hesitated, surprised at the question, adding: "That is, Ithink not...."
"Is it to be public--immediately?"
"No, not at once ... I am sure of that!"
She nodded her head with a little relief, and, incapable of speech,raised her hand weakly as though to excuse herself, then laid it overher heart. He rose, turning his back, steadying himself. At the end ofa long moment she touched him on the shoulder.
"I will come ... tomorrow ... and call on your wife," she said, quietly."Give her my very best wishes, will you? ... And ... thank you! ... Youhave done me a great service!..."
When he reached his box Bruce was waiting for him.
"You saw Louise?" he said directly.
"Yes!"
"You told her?"
"Yes, I told her."
"That was right!"
They hesitated a moment, one whether to question, the other whether toexplain.
"I admire her as much as any woman," said Gunther, at last. "She madeonly one blunder ... At that, Fate was against her."
This answer, and the way it was delivered, was all that Beecher waspermitted to understand of an episode which deserves a novel to itself.Nevertheless, he felt that there must have been something far out of theordinary to have brought forth from Gunther this eulogy, which soundedat the moment like an epitaph.
When Beecher entered the lights were up on the act. During the time inwhich he had been absent, his wife, too, had been a prey to dramaticmoods. The stage and the world had been before her eyes as the choicesof her own life. She comprehended what Beecher did not, all theadvantages of her first appearance in New York under the patronage ofthe Gunthers, that was in itself a social cachet. Mrs. Slade'sflattering visit, as well as the accented cordiality of acquaintanceswho had bowed to her from their boxes, made her feel how easy would beher way in this world, so easy of access by one entrance and so hostileby a thousand others. She was satisfied. Her doubts, if she hadyielded to them a moment, were gone. She had talked to Gunther of whatshe wanted for her husband, and made of him a friend, not insensible tothe reason of the charm which she had exerted. But in the moment inwhich the social world presented itself to her as the endless stretchingPacific flashed upon the dazzled eyes of Balboa, she felt a sudden senseof loneliness and the need of support. She rested her hand on thestrong-muscled arm of her husband, and designating with a smile theyoung girl who was so artlessly and artfully conveying her impatientdelight at Bruce's return, she sent her husband one of those looks whichonly a perfectly happy woman has the power to retain ... that firstfugitive, timid offering in the eyes of lovers.
The next day Mrs. Craig Fontaine's engagement was announced in all thepapers. It was a romance of long standing ... the engagement now madepublic for the first time was supposed to have lasted several months,etc.
Mrs. Slade had more than fulfilled her promise towards McKenna. Throughher active friendship not only had he secured the entire patronage ofher husband, but had finally acquired the coveted field of the Bankers'Association of America. His agency had tripled in its ramifications andits power. This man, who perceived clearly all the relative, oftenconfusing, shades of morality, was at the bottom an idealist. Heundertook two great campaigns: one which resulted in the exposing of themysterious suzerainty over corrupt politics of a group of outwardlyrespectable capitalists; and the other in the purification of a greatlabor union from a band of terrorists, who were betraying their idealsand selling their sympathies. He had still one ambition, which he hadconfided alone to Mrs. Slade, to whom he was able to render in thisperiod two invaluable services--he wished one day to become PoliceCommissioner of New York City, and create, in that cemetery ofreputations, a great police system that would vie with the systems ofParis and London.
Often Bruce Gunther would run into his office at the close of theafternoon. He appreciated the integrity of the detective, and he usedhim as he was learning to use many men ... as so many windows throughwhich to look out on life. Gunther had not been entirely the dupe ofRita Kildair's explanation as to the theft of the ring. Above themantelpiece in the inner office of McKenna, framed in simplepasse-partout, hung the two clippings of the same date: one the barestatement of the bank's support of the Associated Trust, and underneaththe engagement of Rita Kildair and John G. Slade.
These dramatically aligned scraps of information for the public, neverceased to intrigue him. Many a time he considered a direct question,but refrained from respect. One day, however, pushed to the verge byhis curiosity, he said abruptly:
"McKenna, are you going to write your memoirs, some day?"
"Perhaps--some day!"
"You ought to--Publication fifty years from now."
"May be ... may be!"
"And that affair of the ring," said Gunther, pointing to the notices."Will you tell the truth about that?"
"What! Write down my mistakes?"
"Was it a mistake?"
McKenna nodded, gazing at the mantelpiece meditatively, with anexpression that was indecipherable.
"Bad mistake!"
"But I should say one of those failures that are sometimes ratherfortunate?" persisted Gunther.
"Well, it's a good thing to know how to turn a failure to account.That's why a few of us get ahead," said McKenna in a matter-of-fact way,but for a moment Gunther seemed to perceive the faintest trace of asmile, lurking maliciously in the corners of his eyes.
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