The Barrier: A Novel

  CHAPTER XVIII

  JUDITH BUYS A TYPEWRITER

  As the winter advanced, Judith found herself never free from herstruggle, the interest of which grew not only greater, but at timesintense. For gossip, as she foresaw, was busy with her name; and thoughas yet she had not braved her circle in the endeavour to bring Ellis in,her friends took occasion to disapprove of her acquaintance with him.The disapproval being conveyed to her in a dozen ways, Judith wasfrequently in a blaze of anger at people's officiousness, or as oftencontemptuous of their curiosity. Since interference was always enough tomake her obstinate, her friends had no other effect on her than to makeher welcome Ellis more kindly than ever.

  An unforeseen factor in her troubles was the state of public affairs.Judith read the papers diligently; she perceived a general increase ofopposition to Ellis. This did not disturb her, since your true studentis aware that the public is as often wrong as right. And at first shetook no interest in the search for a leader which was conducted by thatusually impotent party, the Reformers. These gentlemen had so often, inJudith's hearing, been gently ridiculed as milk-and-water politicians,that even amusement ceased within her as she read anew of their efforts.Any campaign which they should conduct would be the usual formal andineffectual protest against "practical politics"; their candidate wouldbe, as always, an obscure person with no claim on public regard.Judith's interest woke very suddenly when it was whispered that thereform candidate was to be George Mather.

  Now she should see Mather and Ellis directly measured, and could knowthe strength of each. And yet all this was still far away, while anothermatter was of nearer interest: the rumour of a street-railway strike.Wages had been lowered and the men were discontented; so also were thepatrons of the road. The efficiency of the service had greatly fallenoff, and the reform newspaper boldly dated the change at Mather's lossof the presidency, charging Ellis with the desire to make money at thepublic's expense. Judith sniffed at an accusation which she believedwould refute itself; she wondered that men should still trust incampaign calumnies. One statement alone caused her serious thought,namely the claim, soberly made, that in managing the details of a greatenterprise rather than attending to its finance Ellis was beyond hisdepth. But at the call to the public to insist upon proper treatment aswell as to avert the calamity of a great strike Judith smiled toherself. The public never interested itself in anything; and besides,this was none of the public's business.

  Yet, though Judith was right in thinking that the management of thestreet-railway company concerned the stockholders alone, and though herestimate of the general harmlessness of the reform party was quitecorrect, her interest in Mather was renewed. Judith was always very wellaware of her states of mind, and had noted by this time that wheneverher interest in Ellis's brilliancy relaxed, she was certain to findMather doggedly adding to his own achievements. And she granted it to bemuch in his favour that though he lacked the fascinating abilities ofhis keener rival, he had a formidable solidity. The very fact that hisname was used in connection with the reform nomination, gave thatnomination seriousness.

  Still, the caucus was months ahead, and it was hard to believe thatEllis, who had never yet failed, could botch the management of thestreet-railway. Men should be easier to manage than securities. Andthough she received Mather kindly whenever he came, it was impossiblenot to feel more interest in the man who came oftener, stayed longer,and spoke most of himself. Mather had spoken of himself but once; he didnot seek, as Ellis did, to be alone with her, and no longer showed therepressed eagerness of a suitor. He was easy, deliberate, neverpreoccupied, and took no pains whatever to forward himself with her.

  On that evening when Beth had dragged unwilling Jim into the frontparlour, to her consequent unhappiness, Mather showed no impatience atthe interruption; he even rose again gladly when, Jim having gone, poorBeth came creeping back again.

  "George," said Beth timidly, "Jim was a little--rude, just now."

  "No, no," he answered heartily. "Don't think of it, Beth."

  "If you will bear with him," she pursued, "I think he will come to seehow much he owes you."

  "Of course he will," he agreed. "Not that I'm anxious for anyacknowledgment. I understand he's lonely, Beth."

  "He is," she stated eagerly. "He misses----"

  She blushed, and added hurriedly, "And much of what he says is justmanner."

  "Don't you suppose I know him?" he asked. "Now don't worry, Beth. Justkeep him to his work, and he'll come out all right."

  He took her hand; she looked up shyly. "Do you think me foolish,George?"

  "Fond used to mean foolish," he answered. "We'll call you fond. Jim mustsucceed with you to back him!" And he kissed her hand.

  "Thank you," said Beth, doubtless referring to the encouragement. "Thankyou so much, George! Good-night."

  "Poor little thing!" said Mather, as he seated himself after she hadgone. "She's not happy, Judith."

  "It's Jim," she answered.

  "Have you any influence over him?" he asked. "If you have, make himwork."

  "I noticed," she remarked, "that you did not tell Beth that she has nocause for worry. Is he not satisfactory?"

  "It may be inexperience," he answered, "it may be just Jim; I haven'tdecided yet. The work isn't hard, for the foreman looks after everythingmechanical, yet our product is much less than it should be. All I needto do is to go and sit in the Chebasset office for an hour, withoutopening the door into the mill, and if the men know I'm there we turnout six hundred pounds more that day."

  The statement was not surprising, as Judith compared Jim with the manbefore her. "You think he will not suit."

  "I don't say that yet," he replied. "But it's very unpleasant, doingbusiness with your friends."

  Again she sat watching him as he stared into the fire, but not with theemotion of that former time, for the state of mind which Beth hadaroused was passing. She thought of Mather, with unimpassioned interest,as a fine type of man; but it was undeniable that, emotion being absent,Ellis took an increasingly greater share of her thoughts, and stirredher imagination more. The world was growing larger before her, not theworld of society but of the _World's Work_, the _Harper's Weekly_,almost of the _Scientific American_, those magazines which express thespirit of modern enterprise and hardheadedness, and from which she drewher current information. One of them had recently published Ellis'sportrait; Judith glanced from Mather to the table whereon the magazinewas at this moment lying, and compared the two men as, but a few momentsbefore, she had contrasted Jim and Mather. Now it was Mather who stoodat the little end of the sign of inequality; Ellis was the giant andMather the mere man. Rumour set them against each other, but thoughJudith had heard the whisper, "Mather is back," she had also seen thesmiles as people added: "Now what will he do?"

  "Yes," said Mather, rousing; "between us we can help Jim along." Then herose, and though it was early, said good-night. He left her wondering athis method of cheerful entrance and speedy exit, his manner of being athome in her presence. But after more thinking, she laid this to the factthat he had nothing on his mind.

  Yet he was conscious of a future which beckoned him, and of ambitions,not of his own creating, which stood ready for him to assume. He knewthat it was said that Mather had returned, knew that the idle weresmiling, the serious were watching to see what he would do. Not onlyPease, Fenno, Watson, Branderson, those four powers, held an expectantattitude toward him, but the reform politicians did the same. He knewthe public feeling toward abuses might easily be roused, vexed andalarmed as people were with the street railroad. A determined man, inwhom the city had confidence, could easily draw many votes to himself.But "wait," he said to himself, "it's not yet time." He had beenapproached only by Pease, who inquired: "Have you any street-railwaystock?" but when Mather replied he had, Pease merely begged him not tosell, and said no more. Yet there had been that in Pease's manner whichmeant much.

  Mather and Judith were far apart in these days; he sighed as he thoughtof the d
istance between them, and turned more willingly to thedistractions which politics and business offered. He would have beenglad to have his opportunities closer at hand, that he might throwhimself into the work. Judith, on the other hand, shrank when first herfuture came suddenly near.

  Her father came home late one afternoon; going to greet him, she hadfound him in the library, unwrapping a parcel. The Colonel, obeying hisimpulse toward extravagance, had picked up down town a--wait till shesaw it!

  "It's very much tied up," said Judith.

  "It's rather a valuable thing," answered her father, struggling with thestring. "If only I had it out here, I'd cut this twine."

  "Is it a pair of scissors?" she asked. "Slip the string over the end,sir."

  The Colonel displayed it at last, a Japanese dagger. Its hilt and sheathwere massive ivory, yellow with age, carved deeply with grotesques ofmen in combat. A grinning mask formed the pommel, a writhing dragon theguard; the warriors were grappling, hand to hand. The Colonel offeredthe knife to Judith. "Look at it," he said with pride.

  Something made Judith draw back. "I--it's been used."

  The Colonel was irritated. "Upon my word, Judith, I should think youwere Beth. Of course it's been used; you can see that on the blade.Look!"

  He drew it from the sheath. The blade was of the usual stout Japanesemodel, with a quick edge which much whetting had made very fine. Aninjury had marred the symmetry of the weapon: it was evident that aneighth of an inch had been broken from the point, which, ground again assharp as ever, had lost in beauty but gained in suggestiveness. TheColonel touched the point.

  "On armour or on bone, do you suppose?" he asked.

  Judith had recovered herself. "You're rather grewsome, sir."

  "Hang it," he complained, sheathing the knife again. "I thought you'dlike it. But Jim will, anyway." He laid the knife on the table.

  "You're not going to keep it there?" she asked.

  "Indeed I am," he answered. "Don't look at it if you don't want to." Hestarted to go, then paused. "Judith, I have asked Mr. Ellis to dinner."

  She was surprised by the statement, so suddenly made and of such deepmeaning. All she could do was to repeat his words. "You have asked Mr.Ellis to dinner?"

  "Gad!" exclaimed the poor Colonel. "Is anything wrong with you thisafternoon? You are hard to please."

  "Oh, if you asked him to please me----" she was beginning.

  "Well," he explained, "what else could I do when he more than halfsuggested it? I couldn't be rude to him. I--he--we are pretty goodfriends."

  But he only puzzled her the more. "You are pretty good friends?" askedJudith, again repeating his words.

  This conduct on her part made the Colonel spring to the door, where foran instant he stood and beat his temples. "A woman's a devil!" heexclaimed after that interval, and stamped upstairs.

  When a man's behaviour takes this turn, or his philosophy leads him tothis conclusion, it is safe for the woman to assume that he hassomething on his conscience. Judith stood startled.

  On what terms was Ellis with her father that he could force aninvitation to dinner? And his object?

  She watched Ellis during that first meal at her table. Judith had neverbefore seen him in evening dress, nor as yet considered him sopersonally. His manners were good, his behaviour quiet; no one couldhave said that he was not a fair representation of a gentleman. That hewas more he did not claim.

  "This is the first time," he said, as he went in with her to thedining-room, "that I have dined in these togs in any house besides myown, public dinners excepted, of course. It feels stranger than Iexpected."

  "Why should it feel strange?" she asked.

  "Because I was not born or bred to it, I suppose."

  "Certainly," she remarked, "you show nothing of what you feel."

  "When I was a boy," he answered, "when I lost by being too eager on myfirst trade, I learned never again to show what I felt--unless it's mypurpose to. To be quiet and steady, looking and not speaking--you can'timagine what that has done for me."

  This frankness of his, which she felt was vouchsafed to her alone, wasone secret of his success with Judith. She was interested to hear himacknowledge himself a learner; she sympathised with his effort to makehimself fit to sit at any table; and she was impressed by his study ofmanners as earlier he had studied men and markets. She recognised thefull power of his determination and his self-control. But also she feltthat unmistakably she knew his object. And her father, in manner almostdeferential to Ellis, consciously or not was his ally.

  Ellis made no approach to the subject which was most on his mind, thoughthrough the evening he sat alone with her in the parlour. He spoke, ashe always did, of his affairs. Moreover, he went away early. But Judith,when he had gone, gazed at the door which had closed behind him. He wasaiming at her! All that determination, all that formidable self-control,were trained upon one object: herself. Then she must look forward, anddecide.

  Did she wish to marry Ellis? She found no reply as she tried to readherself; instead, her mind was confused by a lesser question: why shouldher father be so friendly to him?

  It would not be fair to Judith to say that she enjoyed the sensationcreated by her intimacy with Ellis; nevertheless she found piquancy inthe little thrills of horror which she caused in her circle. For sheknew herself to be honestly interested by Ellis's Napoleonic force, andcould retaliate upon her clique by amusement at its littleness. Shelooked at Ellis with clear eyes, perceiving little flaws which his greatpowers could condone. Yet at the same time she understood her friends'sincerity in their reprobation of him, and forgave them because theyknew no better.

  She was perfectly aware that her father had no greater caliber than thatgeneral to his class; without the slightest filial disrespect, she knewthat the Colonel was not capable of her interest in Ellis as a type andas a force. She would not have resented opposition from her father halfso much as she had been puzzled at his acquiescence in Ellis's visits;nor would she have been surprised by a sudden paternal outburst so muchas by to-night's encouragement. And understanding him so well, shebegan to suspect that his motives were different from her own, werelower, and that his interest might be personal. Such a suspicion of herfather was quite enough to make her suspect herself.

  Three impulses rose within her, and battled together. The first was theold ambition, drawing her to Ellis; the second was refinement, thrustingher away from him. The third was maidenhood, which in Beth was modestbut in Judith militant, impelling her to the decision to marry nobody atall. And just now this was strongest.

  Nevertheless, Judith recognised the need of a weapon or at least ashield against the assaults which were bound to come. She was not sosure of herself that she dared depend on her own powers alone. Thereforeshe needed a barrier behind which to retire at need, and she saw butone. Friends could not shield her: she had too few; and pride stoodbetween herself and Mather. Her father would evidently be no protection.Even with Beth her understanding was too slight to be put to use.Employment alone would help her, and of all employments only oneattracted her. Yet for that she could be preparing herself.

  With bent head she went into the sitting-room where were her father andBeth; they put down their books as she entered, and from the table theColonel took up the Japanese knife.

  "Beth doesn't like this much more than you do," he said.

  "It's sinister," explained Beth. "All its beauty conceals a threat; itsonly purpose is to bring death."

  "In the past, in the past!" protested her father. "It's only an ornamentnow."

  "Perfectly horrid!" This from Beth, but Judith said: "It must have costa good deal."

  "Oh, well----" the Colonel responded, waving away the subject.

  "Father," said Judith abruptly, "I want a hundred dollars."

  "A hundred dollars!" he cried. "Where is a hundred dollars to come fromin a jiffy?"

  "Beth and I dislike the knife so," she suggested. "You might get thedealer to take it back."

 
Experienced women know how unwilling men are to return boughtenarticles. "I didn't get it on trial, like a wash-wringer," retorted theColonel. "What do you want your hundred dollars for?"

  "A typewriter."

  "A typewriter!" he exclaimed, and Beth echoed the word.

  Judith made no explanation. "Why, that's quite out of the usual line ofexpenditure," objected the Colonel. "It's an extravagance."

  "A Japanese dagger might be called an extravagance," Judith returned.

  "Then," answered her father, "so might those furs you bought the otherday. I told you your old set was good enough."

  "If I return the furs," she asked, "will you return the dagger?"

  "No, by Jove!" he cried. "It's for me to decide what I will do with myown. I'm the provider."

  "And you provide very well," she returned sweetly.

  He looked at her with suspicion which sprang from remembrance of hismethods as provider, but since she seemed to have no hidden meaning hereturned to his reading. Judith, still sweetly, bade them good-night.

  But the next day she started from the house dressed in all the glory ofher latest possessions. "Judith," asked Beth, "you aren't going to wearthose furs in the morning?"

  "Say good-by to them," answered her sister.

  "Judith!" gasped Beth. But Judith only smiled serenely and left thehouse. By the assurance in bargaining which always carries its point,and which is distinctly feminine, she got for her furs exactly what shegave for them. That afternoon a typewriter was delivered at the house.

  It was Mather who had helped her to buy it, Mather who, happening intothe store while she was there, had told her that the increase of hisbusiness was forcing him to employ more stenographers. So he, even bythe most material of standards, was coming on. In order to forget him,she was forced to think of Ellis, and to repeat such aphorisms as Anyonecan be a Gentleman, It takes Genius to be a Man. But after she hadthought of Ellis for a little while, again came the revulsion.

  Judith, when in her chamber she first removed the cover of hertypewriter, stood for a long while gazing at its black enamel and itsnickeled keys. The machine became a symbol, a warning of fate, andthough in the coming days she practised its use almost eagerly, thetypewriter never lost its significance. It was but a feeble defenseagainst the victor of the two rivals.

  Victor? The word was bitter. It came always with the force of a blow,staggering her amazonian spirit: must she yield in the end? Bitter,indeed, that while she rebelled against her womanhood she was forced torecognise and dread it. Temporise or struggle as she might, she feltthat there lay before her an inevitable choice.