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diff --git a/41433-8.txt b/41433-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 6b2b5f0..0000000 --- a/41433-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,11824 +0,0 @@ - ROBERT KIMBERLY - - - - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost -no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it -under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this -eBook or online at http://www.gutenberg.org/license. - - - -Title: Robert Kimberly -Author: Frank H. Spearman -Release Date: November 21, 2012 [EBook #41433] -Language: English -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ROBERT KIMBERLY *** - - - - -Produced by Al Haines. - - - - -[Illustration: Cover] - - - -[Illustration: I despise your threats," she said choking with her own -words. "I despise you."] - - - - - ROBERT - KIMBERLY - - - BY - FRANK H. SPEARMAN - - - - ILLUSTRATED BY - JAMES MONTGOMERY FLAGG - - - - TORONTO - McLEOD & ALLEN - PUBLISHERS - - - - - COPYRIGHT, 1911, BY - CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS - - Published February, 1911 - - - - - TO MY WIFE - - - - - ILLUSTRATIONS - - -I despise your threats," she said choking with her own words. "I -despise you." . . . . . . _Frontispiece_ - -Kimberly placed it without hesitation on her shoulders - -She sang for him "Caro Mio Ben" - -An acolyte, entering in the gray of the early morning, saw on the last -of the kneeling benches a man resting with bowed head - - - - - Robert Kimberly - - - - CHAPTER I - - -The dancing pavilion, separated from the Casino itself by an arched -passageway and affording another pretty view of the lake in the -moonlight, was filled with young people when Alice entered. - -"It will be cool here, I think," suggested Dolly De Castro, leading the -way for her guest. "The Hickories is by no means a gay place," she -continued, seating herself beside Alice where they could see the dancers -moving in and out of the long room. "And it isn't a club. There is -just this Casino and the fields for golf and polo. It is a neighborhood -affair--and really the quietest place of the kind in the Lake country. -Too bad you could not have been here three weeks ago for the Kermess." - -"So Miss Venable said. They are great fun." - -"We revive one occasionally to preserve the Dutch traditions of the -family," continued Dolly. "Mrs. Charles Kimberly--Imogene--gave it this -year. Last year I gave it. You would have seen everybody, especially -the Sea Ridge people. Fritzie, dear?" Dolly paused to stay a slender -young woman who was passing. "Miss Venable," she explained, still -speaking to Alice, "is our favorite cousin and will make you acquainted -with every one." - -Fritzie Venable whose lively, brown eyes escaped beauty only through a -certain keenness of expression, stopped with a smile and waited on -Dolly's word. - -"I want Mrs. MacBirney to go over to the Nelsons' after a while. This -dance is really a young people's affair," Dolly went on, turning to -Alice. "These are friends of Grace's and Larrie's and I don't know half -of them. Take care of Mrs. MacBirney a moment, Fritzie, will you, while -I find Arthur?" asked Dolly, rising and leaving the two together. - -Alice looked after Dolly as she walked away. Dolly had the Kimberly -height and preserved it with a care that gave dignity to her carriage. -Her dignity, indeed, showed in her words as well as in her manner; but -in both it battled with a mental intensity that fought for immediate -expression. Dolly persuaded and dictated unblushingly, though it could -not be said, unpleasingly. - -"I know you are enjoying Mrs. De Castro and her lovely home," said -Fritzie to Alice. "Of course," she added as Alice assented, "The Towers -is on a much grander scale. But I think Black Rock is the 'homiest' -place on Second Lake. I suppose since I saw you yesterday you have been -all around?" - -"Not quite; but I've met many lovely people." - -"You can't help liking Second Lake people. They are a kind-hearted, -generous set--notably so for people of means." - -"Aren't such people usually generous?" - -Fritzie looked doubtful: "People of large means, perhaps, yes. Indeed, -the only trouble here is, there are too many of that sort. Everybody is -prosperous and everybody, with, I think, two exceptions, contented. I," -laughed Fritzie, "am one of the exceptions. There being no possibility -of preëminence in the line of means, I believe I have in my rôle of -discontent a certain distinction; and as far as I can see, as much fun -as anybody. In fact, I've often thought the only place where I should -care to be rich would be among the poor. Where every one overflows with -luxury distinctions are necessarily lost--and I like distinctions. -Isn't this pretty for dancing?" - -"Everything over here is pretty," said Alice. - -"The place takes its name, 'The Hickories,' from the grove back of it. -You see there was nothing about the Lake itself to serve the purpose of -a country club--no golf course, no polo field. All this stretch of the -eastern shore is a part of The Towers estate, but Mr. Kimberly was good -enough to set it apart for the rest of us--you have met Mr. Robert -Kimberly?" - -"Neither of the Mr. Kimberlys as yet." - -"There is Charles now." Fritzie indicated a smooth-faced, -youthful-looking man coming in through one of the veranda openings. -"That is he speaking to Dolly. They call him the handsome Kimberly." - -Alice smiled: "For a man that's rather a severe handicap, isn't it?" - -"To be called handsome?" - -"It suggests in a way that good looks are exceptional in the family, and -they are not, for their sister, Mrs. De Castro is very handsome, I -think. Which brother is this?" - -"The married brother; the other is Robert. They call him the homely -Kimberly. He isn't really homely, but his face in repose _is_ heavy. He -is the bachelor." - -"Mr. MacBirney tells me he is completely wrapped up in business." - -"Rather--yes; of late years." - -"That, I presume, is why he has never married." - -"Perhaps," assented Fritzie with a prudent pause. "Some men," she went -on somewhat vaguely, "get interested, when they are young, in women in -general. And afterward never settle down to any one woman, you know." - -"I should think that kind of a man would be tiresome." - -Fritzie looked at young Mrs. MacBirney somewhat in surprise, but there -was nothing in Alice's frank eyes to provoke criticism. They met -Fritzie's with an assurance of good-nature that forestalled hostility. -Then, too, Fritzie remembered that Mrs. MacBirney was from the West -where people speak freely. "Robert is deliberate but not a bit -tiresome," was all Fritzie said in answer. "Indeed, he is not -communicative." - -"I didn't mean in that way," explained Alice. "I should only be afraid a -man like that would take himself so seriously." - -Fritzie laughed: "He wouldn't know what that meant. You had music at -your dinner to-night." - -"Lovely music: the Hawaiian singers." - -"I was sorry I couldn't be there. They always come out to sing for -Robert when they are in the States, and they are always in dreadful -financial straits when they get as far from home as this, and he is -always making up their deficits. They used to sing at The Towers, from -barges on the lake. But The Towers is hardly ever opened nowadays for a -function. The music over the water with the house illuminated was -simply superb. And the evening winding up with fireworks!" sighed -Fritzie in pleasing retrospect. - -"There is Robert now," she continued.. "Do you see him? With Mrs. -Charles Kimberly. They are devoted. Isn't she a slip? And the -daintiest little thing. Robert calls her his little Quakeress--her -people were Quakers. She seems lost among the Kimberlys--though Robert -isn't quite so tall as his brother, only more muscular and slower." - -Robert Kimberly with Imogene on his arm entered from the opposite side -of the room and walked across the floor to take her to her husband. His -face was darker than that of Charles and heavier eyebrows rendered his -expression less alert. Fritzie waved a hand at Imogene, who answered -with her fan and greeted Alice. - -"And there comes Mrs. Nelson--the pale brunette. Heroic woman, I call -her. She has been fighting her advancing weight for ten years. Isn't -she trim? Heavens, she ought to be. She lives in Paris half the time -and does nothing but dress and flirt." - -"And who is it with her?" - -"The stately creature with her is Dora Morgan. She is a divorcée. She -likewise lives in Paris and is quite a singer. I haven't heard her -lately but she used to sing a little off the key; she dresses a little -off the key yet, to say nothing of the way she acts sometimes. They are -going to dance." - -A small orchestra of stringed instruments with a French horn, hidden -somewhere in a balcony, began the faint strains of a German waltz. The -night was warm. Young people in white strolling through dim veranda -openings into the softly lighted room moved at once out upon the floor -to the rhythm of the music. Others, following, paused within the -doorways to spin out ends of small talk or persist in negligible -disputes. The dancers wore the pretty Hawaiian leis in honor of the -Island singers. - -"There were some interesting men at the dinner to-night," said Alice. - -"You mean the German refiners? Yes, they are Charles Kimberly's -guests," remarked Fritzie as the floor filled. "There they are now, in -that group in the archway with Mr. Nelson." - -"But the smaller man was not at the dinner." - -"No, that is Guyot, the French representative of the Kimberlys. He and -George Doane, the bald, good-looking man next to him, have the party in -charge. You met the immense man, Herr Gustav Baumann, at dinner. He is -a great refiner and a Hawaiian planter. They are on their way to -Honolulu now and leave within an hour or two in Robert Kimberly's car -for San Francisco. The Baumanns have known the Kimberlys for -generations. Should you ever think Herr Baumann could dance? He is as -light as a cat on his feet, but he waltzes in the dreadful European -round-and-round way. The black-haired man with the big nose is Lambert, -a friend of his, a promoter and a particularly famous chemist whom -Robert Kimberly, by the way, hates--he is a Belgian. I can't bear him, -either--and, Heavens, Guyot is bringing him over here now to ask me to -dance!" - -Fritzie's fear proved true. However, she accepted graciously as Lambert -was brought forward and bowed in making his request. But she did not -fail to observe that though he bowed low, Lambert's bold eyes were glued -on Alice even while he was begging Fritzie for the dance. Something in -Alice's slender face, the white hardly touched enough with pink, except -under animation, held Lambert's glance. Alice, already prejudiced, -directed her eyes as far away as possible under the inspection and was -glad that Fritzie rose at once. - -Robert Kimberly joined Baumann and Edward Nelson. "You have not told me -yet, Robert," Baumann began, "how you put in your time here in the -country." - -"I have a good secretary and do a great deal of my work here, Gustav." - -"But one does not always work. What else? I remember," he continued, -turning to Nelson, "the stories my father used to tell about the -Kimberlys--your father, Robert, and especially your Uncle John." -Baumann radiated interest in everything American. "Those men were busy -men. Not alone sugar-refining, but horses, steamboats, opera-houses, -women--always, always some excitement." - -"Other times, other manners, Baumann," suggested Nelson. "In those days -a fine horse had a national interest; to-day, everybody's horse does his -mile in two minutes. The railroads long ago killed the steamboats; -newsboys build the opera-houses now; sugar refines itself. Mere -money-making, Baumann, has become so absorbing that a Kimberly of this -generation doesn't have time to look at a woman." - -"Nelson!" protested the good-natured and perspiring German, "no time to -look at a woman? That, at least, cannot be true, can it, Robert?" - -"Not quite. But I imagine the interest has waned," said Kimberly. -"When a man took his life in his hand on such a venture the excitement -gave it a double zest--the reflection that you were an outlaw but -prepared, if necessary, to pay the price with your life. Nowadays, the -husband has fallen lower than the libertine. If you break up his -home--he sues you. There is nothing hair-raising in that. Will you -dance, Gustav?" - -"I want very much to dance. Your women dance better than ours." - -"Why, your women dance beautifully. Nelson will find you a partner," -suggested Kimberly. "I must hunt up Mrs. Nelson. I have a dance with -her, myself." - -Alice sat for a moment alone. Among the dancers, Robert Kimberly moved -past her with Lottie Nelson on his arm. Alice noticed how handsome and -well poised Lottie was on her feet; Kimberly she thought too cold to be -an attractive partner. - -Within a moment Dolly came back. "I can't find Arthur anywhere." - -"He isn't on the floor, Mrs. De Castro." - -"No matter, I will let him find me. Isn't it a pretty company? I do -love these fresh faces," remarked Dolly, sitting down. "The young -people complain of our being exclusive. That is absurd. We have to -keep quiet, otherwise why live in the country? Besides, what would be -gained by opening the doors?" - -Dolly had a pleasing way of appealing in difficulties, or what seemed -such, even to a stranger. "We don't want ambitious people," she went on; -"they are killing, you know--and we certainly don't want any more like -ourselves. As Arthur says," Dolly laughed a little rippling laugh, "'we -have social liabilities enough of our own.'" - -Arthur De Castro came up just in time to hear his name: "What's that -Arthur says, Dolly?" - -"Oh, here you are!" exclaimed his wife. "No matter, dear, what it was." - -"It is certain Arthur never said anything of the kind, Mrs. MacBirney," -interposed De Castro. "If any one said it, it must have been you, -Dolly." - -Alice laughed at the two. "No matter who said it," remarked Dolly, -dismissing the controversy, "somebody said it. It really sounds more -like Robert than anybody else." - -"You will be aware very soon, Mrs. MacBirney," continued De Castro, -"that the Kimberlys say all manner of absurd things--and they are not -always considerate enough to father them on some one else, either." - -Alice turned to her hostess with amused interest: "You, of course, are -included because you are a Kimberly." - -"She is more Kimberly _than_ the Kimberlys," asserted her husband. "I -am not a Kimberly." Arthur De Castro in apologizing bowed with so real a -deprecation that both women laughed. - -"Of course, the young people rebel," persisted Dolly, pursuing her -topic, and her dark hair touched with gray somehow gave an authority to -her pronouncements, "young people always want a circle enlarged, but a -circle _never_ should be. What is it you want, Arthur?" - -"I am merely listening." - -"Don't pretend that you leave the men just to listen to me. You want -Mrs. MacBirney to dance." - -"She is always like that," declared De Castro to Alice, whom he found -pleasing because her graciousness seemed to invite its like. "Just such -bursts of divination. At times they are overwhelming. I remember how -stunned I was when she cried--quite before I could get my breath: 'You -want to marry me!'" - -"Was she right?" laughed Alice, looking from one to the other. - -"Absolutely." - -"Is she right now?" - -"Dolly is always right." - -"Then I suppose I must dance." - -"Not, of course, unless you want to." - -Alice appealed to Dolly: "What did you do?" - -"I said I wouldn't marry him." - -"But you did," objected her companion. - -"He was so persistent!" - -Alice laughingly rose: "Then it would be better to consent at once." - -Dolly rose with her. Two of the dancers stopped before them: a tall, -slender girl and a ruddy-faced, boyish young man. - -"Grace," said Dolly to the blue-eyed girl, "I want you to meet Mrs. -MacBirney. This is my niece, Grace De Castro." - -The young girl looked with pretty expectancy into Alice's face, and -frankly held out her hand. - -"Oh, what a bloom!" exclaimed Alice, looking at the delicate features -and transparent skin. Grace laughed happily. Alice kept her hand a -moment: "You are like a bit of morning come to life, Grace." - -"And this is my cousin, Mrs. MacBirney--Mr. Morgan," said Grace shyly. - -Larrie Morgan, a bit self-conscious, stood for an instant aloof. Alice -said nothing, but her eyes in the interval worked their spell. He -suddenly smiled. - -"I'm mightily pleased to meet you, Mrs. MacBirney," he exclaimed with -heartiness. "We've all heard about you. Is Mr. MacBirney here?" he -continued, tendering the biggest compliment he could think of. - -"He is somewhere about, I think." - -"We shall lose our waltz, Mrs. MacBirney," urged Arthur De Castro. - -"Oh, we mustn't do that. Let's run," whispered Alice, taking his arm. - -"Who is Mrs. MacBirney?" asked Grace of Larrie with an appealing look as -Alice moved away. - -"Why, don't you know? Her husband owns some beet plants." - -"What lovely manners she has." Grace spoke under her breath. "And so -quiet. Where are their refineries, Larrie?" - -"In the West." - -"Where in the West?" - -"Somewhere out toward the Rocky Mountains," hazarded Larrie. - -"Denver?" suggested Grace doubtfully. - -"I fancy that's it. Anyway," explained Larrie coldly, "we are buying -them." - -"Are you?" asked Grace, lifting her soft eyes timidly. - -To her, Larrie was the entire Kimberly sugar interest; and at the moment -of making the MacBirney purchase he looked, to Grace, the part. - - - - - CHAPTER II - - -Edward Nelson, the counsel, in some measure the political adviser and, -as to the public, the buffer of the Kimberly sugar interests, was fond -of entertaining. Being naturally an amiable gourmet, his interests -suited his tastes. Moreover, his wife, Lottie Nelson, pleasing of face, -with a figure well proportioned and with distinction in her bright, -indolent eyes, loved to entertain. And she loved to entertain without -working hard to do so. Morningside, her country home at Second Lake, -though both attractive and spacious, and designed with a view to -entertaining, was already being replaced with a new home more attractive -and more spacious, and meant to be filled with still more guests. - -Observation and experience had convinced Lottie that the easiest way to -keep people in hand is to feed them well. And she quite understood that -a vital part of the feeding in such a philosophy is the drinking. There -were difficulties, it is true, but which of us has not difficulties? - -People--provided, they were people of consequence--diverted Lottie. She -had no children--children had no place in her view of life--nor was she -vitally interested in her husband. The companionship of those whom she -called her friends thus became a necessity; the annoyance being that not -always would the particular friends whom she wanted--men chiefly--gather -to her. - -On the evening of the De Castro dinner and dance, Lottie was in better -than her usual spirits. She had brought home Charles Kimberly--who as a -yachtsman bore the title of Commodore--and his wife, Imogene. Imogene, -the little Quakeress, did not like her, as Lottie was aware, but Charles -Kimberly was always in sorts and always tractable--different in that -respect from Robert. Charles and his wife took MacBirney and Fritzie -Venable to the Nelsons' with them and Alice was to follow with the De -Castros. - -When Lottie reached home, Dora Morgan had already come over with George -Doane, one of the Kimberly stock brokers. These two assured the -evening. In the dining-room only a few--of the right sort--were needed -for good company. - -But more was in prospect for this evening--Robert Kimberly was expected. -Nelson came down from the library with MacBirney and left him with -Imogene while he followed Charles to a smoking-room. Fritzie and Mrs. -Nelson joined Doane and Dora Morgan in the music-room. Cards were -proposed, but no one had the energy to get at them. - -A servant passed in the hall to answer the door and Lottie Nelson at -once left the room. When she reached the vestibule the footman was -taking Robert Kimberly's coat. She walked well up to Robert before she -spoke: "At last!" - -"I went back to The Towers for a moment," said Kimberly in explanation. -"Are Charles and Nelson here?" - -"And is that all after a month--'Are Charles and Nelson here?'!" echoed -Lottie patiently and with a touch of intimate reproach. - -"We have a conference to-night, you know, Lottie. How are you?" - -She put back her abundant hair: "Why didn't you call up last week when -you were home to find out?" - -"I was home only overnight. And I came late and left before you were -awake. You know I have been at the new refinery for a week. We began -melting yesterday." - -"At the big one?" - -"At the big one." - -She took hold of the lei that he had worn over from the dance and in a -leisurely way made a pretence of braiding the stem of a loose rose back -into it. "This is the prettiest I've seen," said Lottie. "Who gave it -to you?" - -"Grace. What is the matter with it?" he asked looking down at her white -fingers. - -"You are losing your decoration," she murmured with leisurely -good-nature. "Nobody to do anything for you." - -Kimberly looked at the parting lei with some annoyance, but if he -entertained doubts as to its needing attention he expressed none. -"These things are a nuisance anyway," he declared at length, lifting the -lei impatiently over his head and depositing it without more ado on a -console. "We will leave it there." - -"Where else have you been all this time?" demanded Lottie with an -indolent interest. - -"All over the country--even across the Rockies." - -"Across the Rockies! And a whole big car to yourself! You must love -solitude. And now you are buying a lot of refineries." - -"Not I--the companies are." - -"Oh, it's all the same." - -"Not precisely; this MacBirney purchase is not by my advice or with my -approval." - -"He is in there now, Imogene is talking with him." - -"The trip was extremely tedious," said Kimberly, casting his eyes slowly -around for means of escape. - -"How could it be anything else with no friends along?" - -"With McCrea and two secretaries and a stenographer, I hadn't time to -take any friends." - -"What is time for?" - -"I should say in the West it is valuable for getting home with." - -"And when you do get home?" - -"To build more; borrow more; control more; sell more; spend more. I'm -speaking for all the rest of you, not for myself. I'm just the -centrifugal to throw the money out." - -"Never by any chance to live more, I suppose?" - -"You mean to eat and drink more? How could we?" - -"I _don't_ mean to eat and drink more. I mean just what I say, to live -more!" - -They were at the threshold of the music room. He laughed good-naturedly, -but Lottie declined to be appeased. - -"Lord, but I'm sick of it all!" she exclaimed petulantly. - -Kimberly used care not to offend, yet he always interposed a screen -between himself and her, and however delicate the barrier, Lottie Nelson -had never been able to penetrate it. - -"No sicker of it than I am," he returned. "But I'm a part of the -machine; I can't get out. I suppose you are, and you can't get out. But -you are too young to talk like that; wait till the new home is finished. -Then you will shine." - -She uttered a contemptuous exclamation, not quite loud enough for the -others to hear, as she reëntered the room. The others, in fact, -scarcely would have heard. Fritzie, Doane, and Dora Morgan were -laughing immoderately. Imogene at the piano was playing softly. -Kimberly stopped to speak to her. - -"I forgot, by the way, to ask you when you sail, Imogene," he said. - -She answered with one hand running over the keys: "That depends on you, -doesn't it, Robert? I do hope you'll get through soon." - -"Anxious to get away, are you?" - -"You know I always am." - -"Where are you going this time?" - -"To the Mediterranean, I suppose." - -"You are fond of the Mediterranean." - -"Every place else seems so savage after it." - -"Lottie says you have been talking with MacBirney." - -"Just a few minutes." - -"How do you like him?" asked her brother-in-law. - -Imogene laughed a little: "He is very intelligent. He confuses me a -little, though; he is so brisk." - -"Is he entertaining?" - -Imogene shrugged her shoulders: "Yes. Only, he rather makes you feel as -if he were selling you something, don't you know. I suppose it's hardly -fair to judge of one from the first interview. His views are broad," -smiled Imogene in retrospect. "'I can't understand,' he said 'why our -American men should so unceasingly pursue money. What can more than a -million or two possibly be good for--unless to give away?'" Imogene -looked with a droll smile into Kimberly's stolid face. "When he said, -'a million or two,' I thought of my wretched brother-in-law struggling -along with thirty or forty that he hasn't yet managed to get rid of!" - -"You don't think, then, he would accept a few of them?" suggested -Kimberly. - -"Suppose you try him some time," smiled Imogene as she walked with -Kimberly to the card-table where Fritzie and Dora Morgan sat with Doane. - -"Travelling agrees with you, Robert," observed Doane. - -"The country agrees with you," returned Kimberly. "Good company, I -suppose, George, is the secret." - -"How is the consolidation getting along?" - -"There isn't any consolidation." - -"Combination, then?" - -"Slowly. How is the market?" - -"Our end of it is waiting on you. When shall you have some news for -us?" - -"You don't need news to make a market," returned Kimberly indifferently, -as he sat down. He looked at those around the table. "What are you -doing?" - -"Tell your story again, Dora," suggested Doane. - -Dora Morgan looked at Kimberly defiantly. "No," she said briefly. - -"Pshaw, tell it," urged Doane. "It's about the Virgin Mary, Robert." - -Dora was firm: "It's not a bachelor's story," she insisted. - -"Most of your stories are bachelors' stories, Dora," said Kimberly. - -Dora threw away her cigarette. "Listen to that! Didn't I tell you?" -she asked appealing to Doane. "Robert is getting to be a real nice -man." - -In an effort to appease both sides, Doane laughed, but somewhat -carefully. - -"I got into trouble only the other day in telling that story," continued -Dora, with the same undercurrent of defiance. - -Effectively dressed, though with a tendency to color, and with dark, -regular features, flushed a little at night, Dora Morgan had a promise -of manner that contrasted peculiarly with her freedom of tongue. - -"Tell us about it, Dora?" said Lottie Nelson. - -"It was over at The Towers. I was telling the story to Uncle John. His -blood is red, yet," she added without looking at Robert Kimberly to -emphasize her implication. - -"Uncle John!" echoed Fritzie, at fault. "Did Uncle John object?" - -"Oh, no, you misunderstand. It wasn't Uncle John." Every one but -Kimberly laughed. "I was telling Uncle John the story, and his -nurse--your protégé, what's his name? I never can remember--Lazarus? -the queer little Italian," she said, appealing to Kimberly. - -"Brother Francis," he answered. - -"He's not so awfully little," interposed Fritzie. - -"Well, he was in the room," continued Dora, "and he got perfectly -furious the moment he heard it." - -"Furious, Dora? Why, how funny!" exclaimed Lottie Nelson, languidly. - -"He turned on me like a thunder-cloud. Poor Uncle John was still -laughing--he laughs on one side of his face since his stroke, and looks -so fiendish, you know--when Lazarus began to glower at me. He was -really insulting in his manner. 'Oh, I didn't know you were here,' I -said to hush him up. 'What difference should that make?' he asked, and -his eyes were flashing, I can tell you." - -"'The Virgin Mary is no relation of yours, is she?' I demanded frigidly. -You ought to have seen the man. You know how sallow he is; he flushed -to the roots of his hair and his lips snapped like a trap. Then he -became ashamed of himself, I dare say, and his eyes fell; he put his -hand on his breast and bowed to me as if I had been a queen--they -certainly have the prettiest manners, these poor Italians--haven't they, -Imogene?" - -"But what did he say?" asked Fritzie. - -"'Madame,' he exclaimed, as if I had stabbed him to the heart, 'the -Blessed Virgin is my mother.' You really would have thought I had -insulted his own mother. They have such queer ideas, these foreigners. -My, but he was mad! Then, what do you think? The next day I passed him -walking up from the lake and he came over with such apologies! He -prayed I would overlook his anger--he professed to have been so shocked -that he had forgotten himself--no doubt he was afraid he would lose his -job." - -"George, you look sleepy," Lottie Nelson complained, looking at Doane. -"You need something to wake you up. Suppose we adjourn to the -dining-room?" - -Imogene returned to the piano. Kimberly walked to the door of the -dining-room with the others. "I will go upstairs," he said to Lottie -Nelson. - -"Don't stay all night," she returned peremptorily. "And come have -something before you go up." - -"Perhaps when I come down." - -Fritzie caught his arm, and walked with him into the hall. They talked -for a moment. "You must meet her," declared Fritzie at length, "she is -perfectly lovely and will be over after a while with Dolly." Then she -looked at him suddenly: "I declare, I don't believe you've heard a word -of what I've been saying." - -"I'm afraid not, Fritzie, but no matter, listen to what I say. Don't go -in there and drink with that bunch." - -"I won't." - -"Whiskey makes a fool of you." - -Fritzie put up her hand: "Now don't scold." - -Upstairs, Nelson and Charles Kimberly, facing each other, were seated at -a big table on which lay a number of type-written sheets, beautifully -clear and distinct. These they were examining. - -"What are you going over?" asked Robert, taking the chair Nelson drew up -for him. - -"The Colorado plants." - -"Our own or the MacBirney?" - -"Both." - -Charles Kimberly with one hand in his pocket, and supporting his head -with the other as his elbow rested on the table, turned to Robert with a -question. - -"You've seen the MacBirney figures. What do you think of them?" - -"They are high. But I expected that." - -"Do you really need the MacBirney plants to control the Western market?" -asked Charles Kimberly. With eyes half closed behind his glasses he -studied his brother's face, quite as occupied with his thoughts as with -his words. - -Robert did not answer at once. "I should hate to say so, personally," -he remarked at length. - -"McCrea," continued Charles, "contends that we do need them to forestall -competition. That is, he thinks with the MacBirney crowd out of the -field we can have peace for ten years out there." - -Nelson asked a question. "What kind of factories have they got?" - -"Old-fashioned," answered Robert Kimberly. - -"What kind of influence?" - -"In public affairs, I don't know. In trade they are not dangerous, -though MacBirney is ambitious and full of energy. The father-in-law was -a fine old fellow. But he died just before the reorganization. I don't -know how much money they've got now." - -"They haven't much," remarked Nelson. - -"We bother them a good deal from San Francisco," continued Robert -Kimberly, reflecting, "but that is expensive. Ultimately we must own -more factories in Colorado. Of course, as far as that goes, I would -rather build new plants than remodel rat-hospitals." - -Charles Kimberly straightened up and turned himself in his chair. "Ten -years of peace is worth a good deal to us. And if MacBirney can insure -that, we ought to have it. All of this," he appealed to Robert, as he -spoke, "is supposing that you are willing to assent." - -"I do not assent, chiefly because I distrust MacBirney. If the rest of -you are satisfied to take him in, go ahead." - -"The others seem to be, Robert." - -"Then there is nothing more to be said. Let's get at the depreciation -charges and the estimates for next year's betterments, so we can go over -the new capitalization." - -While the conference went on, the muffled hum of gathering motor-cars -came through the open windows. - -Robert Kimberly leaving the two men, walked downstairs again. The rooms -were filling with the overflow from the dance. They who had come were -chiefly of the married set, though boys and girls were among them. - -After the manner of those quite at home, the dancers, still wearing -their flower leis, were scattered in familiar fashion about small tables -where refreshment was being served. - -At one end of the music room a group applauded a clever young man, who, -with his coat cuffs rolled back, was entertaining with amateur -sleight-of-hand. - -At the other end of the room, surrounded by a second group, Fritzie -Venable played smashing rag-time. About the tables pretty, overfed -married women, of the plump, childless type, with little feet, fattening -hands, and rounding shoulders, carried on a running chatter with men -younger than their husbands. - -A young girl, attended at her table by married men, was trying to tell a -story, and to overcome unobserved, her physical repugnance to the -whiskey she was drinking. - -In the dining-room Lottie Nelson was the centre of a lively company, and -her familiar pallor, which indulgence seemed to leave untouched, -contrasted with the heightened color in Dora Morgan's face. - -Robert Kimberly had paused to speak to some one, when Fritzie Venable -came up to ask a question. At that moment Arthur and Dolly De Castro, -with Alice on Dolly's left, entered from the other end of the room. -Kimberly saw again the attractive face of a woman he had noticed dancing -with Arthur at the Casino. The three passed on and into the hall. -Kimberly, listening to Fritzie's question, looked after them. - -"Fritzie, who is that with Dolly?" he asked suddenly. - -"That is Mrs. MacBirney." - -"Mrs. MacBirney?" he echoed. "Who is Mrs. MacBirney?" - -"Why, Mr. MacBirney's wife, of course. How stupid of you! I told you -all about her before you went upstairs. He has brought his wife on with -him. Dolly knew her mother and has been entertaining Alice for a week." - -"Alice! Oh, yes. I've been away, you know. MacBirney's wife? Of -course. I was thinking of something else. Well--I suppose I ought to -meet her. Come, Fritzie." - - - - - CHAPTER III - - -They found Alice with the De Castros in the hall. Dolly looked pleased -as her brother came forward. Alice collected herself. She felt a -momentary trepidation at meeting this man, from whom, she was already -aware, much of what she had seen and most of the people whom she had met -at Second Lake in some degree derived. - -She had heard for years, since girlhood, indeed, of the house of -Kimberly. Her own father's struggle through life had been in the line -of their business, and the name of the Kimberlys could not but be haloed -wherever refiners discussed their affairs. Moreover, at the moment her -own husband was seeking, and with prospects of success, an alliance with -them. - -Yet in a moment she found it all very easy. Kimberly's manner as he met -her was simplicity itself. His words were few and did not confuse her, -yet they were sufficient to relieve the necessity of any effort on her -part to avoid embarrassing pauses. She only noticed that the others -rather waited for Kimberly to speak; giving him a chance to say without -interruption whatever he pleased to say. Beyond this, that the -conversation was now reserved for herself and Kimberly, she was at ease -and wondered why she had been a little afraid of him. The surprise was -that he was younger than she had supposed. She began to wonder that his -name should at times command so much of the public interest. Nor could -any but those who knew him have realized that under his restraint Alice -was experiencing his most gracious manner. - -But those who did know him saw instantly how interested he was in her -youth and inexperience. Her cheeks were already flooded with pink, as if -she realized she must do her best to please and was conscious that she -was not wholly failing. Timidity reflected itself in her answers, yet -this was no more than an involuntary compliment, pleasing in itself. -And whenever possible, Alice took refuge from the brother's more direct -questions by appealing to his sister Dolly. Kimberly was diverted to -see her seek escape in this fashion from his directness. - -She expressed presently her admiration for the decorations at the Casino -and the talk turned upon the Hawaiian singers; from them to Hawaii and -Honolulu. Word at that moment came from the music room that the singing -was beginning. Kimberly without any sign of giving up Alice, followed -Dolly and her husband down the hall to where the guests were gathering. - -The group paused near the foot of the stairs. Alice asked an explanation -of the chant that they had heard at the Casino and Kimberly interpreted -the rhythm for her. "But I should have thought," he added, "you would -be familiar with it." - -"Why so?" - -"Because you have been at the Islands." - -"Pray, how did you know that?" - -"By your pronunciations." - -"Ah, I see. But I was there only once, when I was quite young, with my -father." - -"And yet you have no lei to-night? That is hardly loyal, is it?" - -"We came late and they had all been given out, I suppose." - -"I have one in reserve. You must show your good-will to the musicians. -Permit me." He turned with dignity to the console where he had so -unceremoniously discarded his own lei and picked the garland up to lay -it upon Alice's shoulders. - -"But Robert," Fritzie cried, "you mustn't! That is a rose lei." - -"What is the difference?" asked Kimberly. - -"There's a superstition, you know, about a rose lei." - -"Mercy, what is it?" demanded Alice, pink and smiling. - -"If a man gives you a rose lei you must marry him or you will die." - -"Fortunately," remarked Kimberly, lifting the decoration quickly above -Alice's head and placing it without hesitation on her shoulders, -"neither Mrs. MacBirney nor I are superstitious. And the roses -harmonize perfectly with your gown, Mrs. MacBirney. Don't you love the -Islands?" - -"I've always wanted to go back to them to stay. I don't think if I had -my choice I should ever leave them." - -"Neither should I. We must get up a party and have a yacht meet us in -San Francisco for the trip. This fall would be a good time to get -away." - -His decisive manner was almost startling; the trip seemed already under -way. And his mannerisms were interesting. A certain halting confidence -asserted itself under the affected indifference of his utterance. -Whatever he proposed seemed as easy as if done. He carried his chin -somewhat low and it gave a dogmatism to his words. While he seemed to -avoid using them obtrusively, his eyes, penetrating and set under the -straight heavy brows which contracted easily, were a barometer from -which it was possible to read his intent. - -"You have been frequently at the Islands?" returned Alice. - -"Years ago I knew them very well." - -"Father and I," Alice went on, "spent a month at Honolulu." And again -the softness of her long vowels fell agreeably on Kimberly's ear. Her -voice, he thought, certainly was pretty. "It is like a paradise. But -they have their sorrows, do they not? I remember one evening," Alice -turned toward Fritzie to recount the incident, "just at the sunset of a -rarely perfect day. We were walking along the street, when we heard the -most piercing cries from a little weeping company of women and children -who were coming down the esplanade. In front of them walked a man all -alone--he was a leper. They were taking him away from his family to be -sent to Molokai. It was the most distressing thing I ever saw." She -turned to Kimberly. "You have never been at Molokai?" - -"I have cruised more or less around it. Do you remember the windward -cliffs just above the leper settlement? They are superb from the sea. -We put in once at Kalawao for a night and I called on the priest in -charge of the mission." - -"It must have been very, very dreadful." - -"Though like all dreadful places, disappointing at first; nothing, -apparently, to inspire horror. But after we had breakfasted with the -priest in the morning, we went around with him to see his people." -Kimberly's chin sank and his eyes closed an instant as he moved his -head. "I remember," he added slowly, "a freezing up around the heart -before we had gone very far." Then he dismissed the recollection. "The -attendant at home who takes care of my uncle--Francis--" he continued, -"had a brother in the leper missions. He died at Molokai. Francis has -always wanted to go there." - -[Illustration: Kimberly placed it without hesitation on her shoulders] - -The conversation waited a few moments on the singing. "Miss Venable -tells me," said Alice, presently, "these singers always come out to sing -for you when they visit this country." - -"I have met most of them at one time or another in Hawaii. You know -they are the gentlest, most grateful people in the world. Sha'n't we -have some refreshment, Mrs. MacBirney?" - - - - - CHAPTER IV - - -"I am hoping it will all be settled satisfactorily soon," said Dolly De -Castro to Alice one afternoon a few weeks afterward. She had invited -Alice out from town for a fortnight at Black Rock while MacBirney, with -McCrea and the active partners of the Kimberly interests were working on -the negotiations for the purchase of the MacBirney factories. - -"And when it is settled, I can congratulate you, I think, my dear, most -sincerely on any issue that associates your husband and his interests -with those of my brothers." - -"Indeed, I realize that it would be a matter for congratulation, Mrs. De -Castro. I hope if they do come to terms, your brothers will find Mr. -MacBirney's Western acquaintance and experience of some value. I am -sorry you haven't seen more of my husband----" - -"I understand perfectly how engaged he has been." - -"He is an unceasing worker. I told him yesterday, when he was leaving -home, that Mrs. De Castro would think I had no husband." - -"Then," continued Dolly, pursuing her topic, "if you can secure the -little Cedar Lodge estate on the west shore--and I think it can be -arranged--you will be very comfortable." - -Dolly had suggested a drive around the lake, and as she made an -admirable guide Alice looked forward with interest to the trip. If it -should be objected that Dolly was not a good conversationalist, it could -be maintained that she was a fascinating talker. - -It is true that people who talk well must, as a penalty, say things. -They can have no continued mental reserves, they must unburden their -inner selves. They let you at once into the heart of affairs about -them--it is the price that the brilliant talker must pay. Such a one -gives you for the moment her plenary confidence, and before Alice had -known Dolly a month, she felt as if she had known her for years. - -On their drive the orders were to follow the private roads, and as the -villas around the entire lake connected with one another, they were -obliged to use the high-roads but little. Each of the places had a -story, and none of these lost anything in Dolly's dramatic rendering. - -From the lower end of the lake they drove to Sunbury, the -village--commonplace, but Colonial, Dolly explained--and through it. -Taking the ridge road back of the hills, they approached another group -of the country places. The houses of these estates belonged to an older -day than those of the lake itself. Their type indicated the descent -from the earlier simplicity of the Colonial, and afforded a melancholy -reminder of the architectural experiments following the period of the -Civil War. - -"Our families have been coming out here for a hundred years," observed -Dolly. "These dreadful French roofs we have been passing, give you the -latest dates on this side of the ridge." As she spoke they approached a -house of brown sandstone set in an ellipse of heavy spruces. - -"This was the Roger Morgan place. Mrs. Morgan, Bertha, was our -half-sister, dear, the only child of my father's first marriage--she -died seven years ago. This villa belongs to Fritzie Venable. She was -Roger Morgan's niece. But she hasn't opened it for years--she just -keeps a caretaker here and makes her home with Imogene. To me, spruces -are depressing." - -"And what is that?" asked Alice, indicating an ivy-covered pile of stone -in the midst of a cluster of elms at some distance to the left of the -house and on a hill above it. "How odd and pretty!" - -"That is the Morgan chapel." - -"Oh, may we see it?" - -"Of course," assented Dolly, less enthusiastically. "Do you really want -to see it?" - -It was Alice's turn to be interested: "Why, yes, if we may. How -quaint-looking," she pursued, scrutinizing the façade. - -"It is, in fact, a mediæval style," said Dolly. - -The car was turned into the driveway leading up to the chapel. When the -two women had alighted and walked up the steps to the porch, Alice found -the building larger than it had appeared from below the Morgan house. - -Dolly led the way within. "It really is a beautiful thing," she sighed -as they entered. "A reproduction in part--this interior--of a little -church in Rome, that Mrs. Morgan was crazy about, Santa Maria in--dear -me, I never can remember, Santa Maria in something or other. But I want -you to look at this balustrade, and to walk up into one of these -ambones. Can't you see some dark-faced Savonarola preaching from one on -the sins of society?" Dolly ascended the steps of one ambone as she -spoke, while Alice walked up into the other. - -"You look as if you might do very well there yourself on that topic," -suggested Alice. - -"But I don't have to get into an ambone to preach. I do well anywhere, -as long as I have an audience," continued Dolly as she swept the modest -nave with a confident glance. - -They walked back toward the door: "Here's a perfect light on the chancel -window," said Dolly pausing. "Superb coloring, I think." - -Alice, held by the soft rich flame of the glass, halted a moment, and -saw in a niche removed from casual sight the bronze figure of a knight -standing above a pavement tomb. "Is this a memorial?" - -"Poor Bertha," continued Dolly; "ordered most of these windows herself." - -"But this bronze, Mrs. De Castro, what is it?" - -"A memorial of a son of Bertha's, dear." - -The shield of the belted figure bore the Morgan arms. An inscription -set in the tomb at his feet took Alice's attention, and Dolly without -joining her waited upon her interest. - -"And in whose memory do you say this is?" persisted Alice. - -"In memory of one of Bertha's sons, dear." - -"Is he buried here?" - -"No, he lies in Kimberly Acre, the family burial-ground on The Towers -estate--where we shall all with our troubles one day lie. This poor boy -committed suicide." - -"How dreadful!" - -"It is too sad a story to tell." - -"Of course." - -"And I am morbidly sensitive about suicide." - -"These Morgans then were relatives of the Mrs. Morgan I met last night?" - -"Relatives, yes. But in this instance, that signifies nothing. These, -as I told you, were Fritzie's people and are _very_ different." - -They reëntered the car and drove rapidly down the ridge. In the -distance, to the south and east, the red gables of a cluster of -buildings showed far away among green, wooded hills. - -"That is a school, is it?" asked Alice. - -"No, it is a Catholic institution. It is a school, in a way, too, but -not of the kind you mean--something of a charitable and training school. -The Catholic church of the village stands just beyond there. There are -a number of Catholics over toward the seashore--delightful people. We -have none in our set." - -The ridge road led them far into the country and they drove rapidly -along ribboned highways until a great hill confronted them and they -began to wind around its base toward the lake and home. Half-way up they -left the main road, turned into an open gateway, and passing a lodge -entered the heavy woods of The Towers villa. - -"The Towers is really our only show-place," explained Dolly, "though -Robert, I think, neglects it. Of course, it is a place that stands hard -treatment. But think of the opportunities on these beautiful slopes for -landscape gardening." - -"It is very large." - -"About two thousand acres. Robert, I fancy, cares for the trees more -than anything else." - -"And he lives here alone?" - -"With Uncle John Kimberly. Uncle John is all alone in the world, and a -paralytic." - -"How unfortunate!" - -"Yes. It is unfortunate in some ways; in others not so much so. Don't -be shocked. Ours is so big a family we have many kinds. Uncle John! -mercy! he led his poor Lydia a life. And she was a saint if ever a wife -was one. I hope she has gone to her reward. She never saw through all -the weary years, never knew, _outwardly_, anything of his wickedness." - -Dolly looked ahead. "There is the house. See, up through the trees? We -shall get a fine view in a minute. I don't know why it has to be, but -each generation of our family has had a brainy Kimberly and a wicked -Kimberly. The legend is, that when they meet in one, the Kimberlys will -end." - - - - - CHAPTER V - - -To afford Alice the effect of the main approach to The Towers itself, -Dolly ordered a roundabout drive which gave her guest an idea of the -beauties of the villa grounds. - -They passed glades of unusual size, bordered by natural forests. They -drove among pleasing successions of hills, followed up valleys with -occasional brooks, and emerged at length on wide, open stretches of a -plateau commanding the lake. - -A further drive along the bluffs that rose high above the water showed -the bolder features of an American landscape unspoiled by overtreatment. -The car finally brought them to the lower end of a long, formal avenue -of elms that made a setting for the ample house of gray stone, placed on -an elevation that commanded the whole of Second Lake and the southern -country for many miles. - -Its advantage of position was obvious and the castellated effect, from -which its name derived, implied a strength of uncompromising pride -commonly associated with the Kimberlys themselves. - -At Dolly's suggestion they walked around through the south garden which -lay toward the lake. At the garden entrance stood a sun-dial and Alice -paused to read the inscription: - - Per ogni ora che passa, im ricordo. - Per ogni ora che batte, una felicità. - Per ogni ora che viene, una speranza. - - -"It is a duplicate of a dial that Robert fancied in the garden of the -Kimberly villa on Lago Maggiore," Dolly explained. "Come this way, I -want you to see the lake and the terrace." - -From the terrace they looked back again at the house. Well-placed -windows and ample verandas afforded views in every direction of the -surrounding country. Retracing their way to the main entrance, they -ascended a broad flight of stone steps and entered the house itself. - -Following Dolly into the hall, Alice saw a chamber almost severe in -spaciousness and still somewhat untamed in its oak ruggedness. But -glimpses into the apartments opening off it were delightfully -satisfying. - -They peeped into the dining-room as they passed. It was an old-day room, -heavily beamed in gloomy oak, with a massive round table and high -chairs. The room filled the whole southern exposure of its wing and at -one end Alice saw a fireplace above which hung a great Dutch mirror -framed in heavy seventeenth-century style. Dolly pointed to it: "It is -our sole heirloom, and Robert won't change it from the fireplace. The -Kimberly mirror, we call it--from Holland with our first Kimberly. The -oak in this room is good." - -Taken as a whole, however, Dolly frankly considered The Towers too -evidently suggestive of the old-fashioned. This she satisfactorily -accounted for by the fact that the house lacked the magic of a woman's -presence. - -Alice, walking with her, slowly and critically, found nowhere any -discordant notes. The carpets offered the delicate restraints of -Eastern fancy, and the wall pictures, seen in passing, invited more -leisurely inspection. - -There was here something in marble, something there Oriental, but -nowhere were effects confused, and they had been subdued until -consciousness of their art was not aroused. - -Alice, sensitive to indefinable impressions, had never seen anything -comparable to what she now saw, and an interior so restful should have -put her at ease. - -Yet the first pleasing breath in this atmosphere brought with it -something, she could not have told what, of uneasiness, and it was of -this that she was vaguely conscious, as Dolly questioned the servant -that met them. - -"Is Mr. De Castro here yet?" she asked. - -"Yes, Mrs. De Castro. He is with Mr. Kimberly. I think they are in the -garden." - -"Tell them we are here. We will go up and speak to Uncle John." - -They were at the foot of the stairs: "Sha'n't I wait for you?" suggested -Alice. - -"By no means. Come with me. He is really the head of the family, you -know," Dolly added in an undertone, "and mustn't be slighted." - -Alice, amused at the importance placed upon the situation, smiled at -Dolly's earnestness. As she ascended the stairs with her hostess, a -little wave of self-consciousness swept over her. - -On the second floor was a long gallery opening at the farther end upon a -western belvedere, lighted just then by the sun. The effect of the -room, confusing at first in its arrangement, was, in fact, that of a -wide and irregular reception hall for the apartments opening on the -second floor. At the moment the two women reached the archway, a man -walked in at the farther end from the terrace. - -"There is Robert, now!" Dolly exclaimed. He was opening the door of a -room near at hand when he saw his sister with Alice, and came forward to -meet them. As he did so, a door mid-way down the hall opened and a man -clad in a black habit crossed between Kimberly and Alice. - -"That is Francis, who takes care of Uncle John," said Dolly. Francis, -walked toward the balcony without seeing the visitors, but his ear -caught the tones of Dolly's voice and she waved a hand at him as he -turned his head. He paused to bow and continued his way through a -balcony door. - -As Kimberly came forward his face was so nearly without a smile that -Alice for a moment was chilled. - -"I brought Mrs. MacBirney in to see Uncle John a moment, Robert. How -are you?" Dolly asked. - -"Thank you, very well. And it is a pleasure to see Mrs. MacBirney, -Dolly." - -He looked into Alice's eyes as he spoke. She thanked him, simply. -Dolly made a remark but Alice did not catch it. In some confusion of -thought she was absurdly conscious that Kimberly was looking at her and -that his eyes were gray, that he wore a suit of gray and that she now, -exchanging compliments with him, was clad in lavender. The three talked -together for some moments. Yet something formal remained in Kimberly's -manner and Alice was already the least bit on the defensive. - -She was, at any rate, glad to feel that her motoring rig would bear -inspection, for it seemed as if his eyes, without offensively appearing -to do so, took in the slightest detail of her appearance. His words were -of a piece with his manner. They were agreeable, but either what he -said lacked enthusiasm or preoccupation clouded his efforts to be -cordial. - -"They told us," said Dolly, at length, "you were in the garden." - -"Arthur is down there somewhere," returned Kimberly. "We will go this -way for Uncle John," he added. "Francis is giving him an airing." - -They walked out to the belvedere. Facing the sunset, Alice saw in an -invalid chair an old man with a wrinkled white face. Dolly, hastening -forward, greeted him in elevated tones. Kimberly turned to Alice with a -suggestion of humor as they waited a little way from Dolly's hand. "My -sister, curiously enough," said he, "always forgets that Uncle John is -_not_ deaf. And he doesn't like it a bit." - -"Many people instinctively speak louder to invalids," said Alice. Uncle -John's eyes turned slowly toward Alice as he heard her voice. Dolly, -evidently, was referring to her, and beckoned her to come nearer. Alice -saw the old man looking at her with the slow care of the paralytic--of -one who has learned to distrust his physical faculties. Alice disliked -his eyes. He tried to rise, but Dolly frowned on his attempt: it looked -like a failure, anyway, and he greeted Alice from his chair. - -"You are getting altogether too spry, Uncle John," cried Dolly. - -His eyes turned slowly from Alice's face to Dolly's and he looked at his -talkative niece quizzically: "Am I?" Then, with the mildly suspicious -smile on his face, his eyes returned to Alice. Kimberly watched his -uncle. - -"They say you want to ride horseback," continued Dolly, jocularly. He -looked at her again: "Do they?" Then he looked back at Alice. - -Kimberly, his hands half-way in the pockets of his sack-coat, turned in -protest: "I think you two go through this every time you come over, -Dolly." Dolly waved her hand with a laugh. Uncle John this time did not -even take the trouble to look around. He continued to smile at Alice -even while he returned to Robert his non-committal: "Do we?" - -Alice felt desirous of edging away from Uncle John's kind of Kimberly -eyes. "You ought to get better here very fast, Mr. Kimberly," she said -to him briskly. "This lovely prospect!" she exclaimed, looking about -her. "And in every direction." - -"It is pretty toward the lake," Robert volunteered, knowing that Uncle -John would merely look at Alice without response. - -He led the way as he spoke toward the mirrored sheet of water and, as -Alice came to his side, pointed out the features of the landscape. -Dolly sat a moment with Uncle John and joined Kimberly and Alice as they -walked on. - -They encountered the attendant, Brother Francis, who had retreated as -far as he could from the visitors. Dolly, greeting him warmly, turned -to Alice. "Mrs. MacBirney, this is Brother Francis who takes care--and -such excellent care!--of Uncle John." - -Brother Francis's features were spare. His slender nose emphasized the -strength of his face. But if his expression at the moment was sober, and -his dark eyes looked as if his thoughts might be away, they were kindly. -His eyes, too, fell almost at the instant Dolly spoke and he only bowed -his greeting to Alice. But with Francis a bow was everything. Whether -he welcomed, tolerated, or disapproved, his bow clearly and sufficiently -signified. - -His greeting of Alice expressed deference and sincerity. But there was -even more in it--something of the sensible attitude of a gentleman who, -in meeting a lady in passing, and being himself an attendant, desires to -be so considered and seeks with his greeting to dismiss himself from the -situation. To this end, however, Francis's efforts were unsuccessful. - -"He is the most modest man in the world," murmured Dolly, in concluding -a eulogium, delivered to Alice almost in the poor Brother's face. - -"Then why not spare his feelings?" suggested Kimberly. - -"Because I don't believe in hiding a light under a bushel," returned -Dolly, vigorously. "There is so little modesty left nowadays----" - -"That you want to be rid of what there is," suggested Kimberly. - -"That when I find it I think it a duty to recognize it," Dolly -persisted. - -Brother Francis maintained his composure as well as he could. Indeed, -self-consciousness seemed quite lacking in him. "Surely," he smiled, -bowing again, "Madame De Castro has a good heart. That," he added to -Alice, italicizing his words with an expressive forefinger, "is the real -secret. But I see danger even if one _should_ possess a gift so -precious as modesty," he continued, raising his finger this time in mild -admonition; "when you--how do you say in English--'trot out' the modesty -and set it up to look at"--Francis's large eyes grew luminous in -pantomime--"the first thing you know, pff! Where is it? You search." -Brother Francis beat the skirt of his black gown with his hands, and -shook it as if to dislodge the missing virtue. Then holding his empty -palms upward and outward, and adding the dismay of his shoulders to the -fancied situation, he asked: "Where is it? It is gone!" - -"Which means we shouldn't tempt Brother Francis's modesty," interposed -Alice. - -Francis looked at Alice inquiringly. "You are a Catholic?" he said, -"your husband not." - -Alice laughed: "How did you know?" - -Francis waved his hand toward his informant: "Mr. Kimberly." - -The answer surprised Alice. She looked at Kimberly. - -There was an instant of embarrassment. "Francis feels our pagan -atmosphere so keenly," Kimberly said slowly, "that I gave him the news -about you as a bracer--just to let him know we had a friend at court -even if we were shut out ourselves." - -"He told me," continued Francis, with humor, "that a Catholic lady was -coming this afternoon, and to put on my new habit." - -"Which, of course, you did not do," interposed Kimberly, regaining the -situation. - -Brother Francis looked deprecatingly at his shiny serge. - -Dolly and Alice laughed. "Mr. Kimberly didn't understand that you kept -on your old one out of humility," said Alice. "But how did you know -anything about my religion?" she asked, turning to Kimberly. - -Francis took this chance to slip away to his charge. - -"Arthur De Castro is the culprit," answered Kimberly. "He told me some -time ago." - -"You have a good memory." - -"For some things. Won't you pour tea for Mrs. MacBirney, Dolly? Let us -go downstairs, anyway." - -He walked with Alice into the house, talking as they went. - -Dolly bent over Uncle John's chair. "Isn't she nice?" she whispered, -nodding toward Alice as Alice disappeared with Kimberly. "You know -Madame De Castro went to school in Paris with her mother, who was a De -Gallon, and her father--Alice's grandfather--was the last man in -Louisville to wear a queue." - -Uncle John seemed not greatly moved at this information, but did look -reminiscent. "What was her father's name?" - -"Alice's father was named Marshall. He and her mother both are dead. -She has no near relatives." - -"I remember Marshall--he was a refiner." - -"Precisely; he met with reverses a few years ago." - -Uncle John looked after Alice with his feeble, questioning grin. "Fine -looking," he muttered, still looking after her much as the toothless -giant looked after Christian as he passed his cave. "Fine looking." - -Dolly was annoyed: "Oh, you're always thinking about fine looks! She is -nice." - -Uncle John smiled undismayed. "Is she?" - - - - - CHAPTER VI - - -Alice had been married five years--it seemed a long time. The first -five years of married life are likely to be long enough to chart pretty -accurately the currents of the future, however insufficient to predict -just where those currents will carry one. - -Much disillusioning comes in the first five years; when they have passed -we know less of ourselves and more of our consort. Undoubtedly the -complement of this is true, and our consort knows more of us; but this -thought, not always reassuring, comes only when we reflect concerning -ourselves, which fortunately, perhaps, is not often. Married people, if -we may judge from what they say, tend to reflect more concerning their -mates. - -Alice, it is certain, knew less of herself. Much of the confidence of -five years earlier she had parted with, some of it cruelly. Yet coming -at twenty-five into the Kimberly circle, and with the probability of -remaining in it, of its being to her a new picture of life, Alice -gradually renewed her youth. Some current flowing from this joy of -living seemed to revive in her the illusions of girlhood. All that she -now questioned was whether it really was for her. - -Her husband enjoyed her promise of success in their new surroundings -without realizing in the least how clearly those about them -discriminated between his wife and himself. She brought one quality -that was priceless among those with whom she now mingled--freshness. - -Among such people her wares of mental aptness, intelligence, amiability, -not to discuss a charm of person that gave her a place among women, were -rated higher than they could have been elsewhere. She breathed in her -new atmosphere with a renewed confidence, for nothing is more gratifying -than to be judged by what we believe to be the best in us; and nothing -more reassuring after being neglected by stupid people than to find -ourselves approved by the best. - -Walter MacBirney, her husband, representing himself and his Western -associates, and now looked on by them as a man who had forced -recognition from the Kimberly interests, made on his side, too, a -favorable impression among the men with whom his affairs brought him for -the first time in contact. - -If there was an exception to such an impression it was with Robert -Kimberly, but even with him MacBirney maintained easily the reputation -accorded to Western men for general capacity and a certain driving -ability for putting things through. - -He was described as self-made; and examined with the quiet curiosity of -those less fortunate Eastern men who were unwilling or unable to ascribe -their authorship to themselves, he made a satisfactory showing. - -In the Kimberly coterie of men, which consisted in truth more of the -staff associates in the Kimberly activities than of the Kimberlys -themselves, the appearance of MacBirney on the scene at Second Lake was -a matter of interest to every one of the fledgling magnates, who, under -the larger wing of the Kimberlys, directed the commercial end of their -interests. - -McCrea, known as Robert Kimberly's right-hand man; Cready Hamilton, one -of the Kimberly bankers, and brother of Doctor Hamilton, Robert's -closest friend; Nelson, the Kimberly counsel--all took a hand in going -over MacBirney, so to say, and grading him up. They found for one thing -that he could talk without saying anything; which in conducting -negotiations was an excellent trait. And if not always a successful -story-teller, he was a shrewd listener. In everything his native energy -gave him a show of interest which, even when factitious, told in his -favor. - -Soon after the call on Uncle John, Dolly arranged a dinner for the -MacBirneys, at which Charles Kimberly and his wife and Robert Kimberly -were to be the guests. It followed a second evening spent at the -Nelsons', whence Robert Kimberly had come home with the De Castros and -MacBirneys. Alice had sung for them. After accepting for the De Castro -dinner, Robert at the last moment sent excuses. Dolly masked her -feelings. Imogene and Charles complained a little, but Arthur De Castro -was so good a host that he alone would have made a dinner go. - -MacBirney, after he and Alice had gone to their rooms for the night, -spoke of Robert's absence. "I don't quite understand that man," he -mused. "What do you make of him, Alice?" - -Alice was braiding her hair. She turned from her table. "I've met him -very little, you know--when we called at his house, and twice at the -Nelsons'. And I saw very little of him last night. He was with that -drinking set most of the evening." - -MacBirney started. "Don't say 'that drinking set.'" - -"Really, that describes them, Walter. I don't see that they excel in -anything else. I hate drinking women." - -"When you're in Rome, do as the Romans do," suggested MacBirney, curtly. - -Alice's tone hardened a trifle. "Or at least let the Romans do as they -please, without comment." - -"Exactly," snapped her husband. "I don't know just what to make of -Kimberly," he went on. - -"Charles, or the brother?" - -"Robert, Robert. He's the one they all play to here." MacBirney, -sitting in a lounging-chair, emphasized the last words, as he could do -when impatient, and shut his teeth and lips as he did when perplexed. -"I wonder why he didn't come to-night?" - -Alice had no explanation to offer. "Charles," she suggested, tying her -hair-ribbon, "is very nice." - -"Why, yes--you and Charles are chummy already. I wish we could get -better acquainted with Robert," he continued, knitting his brows. "I -thought you were a little short with him last night, Alice." - -"Short? Oh, Walter! We didn't exchange a dozen words." - -"That's just the way it struck me." - -"But we had no chance to. I am sure I didn't mean to be short. I sang, -didn't I? And more on his account, from what Dolly had said to me, than -anybody else's. He didn't like my singing, but I couldn't help that. -He didn't say a single word." - -"Why, he did say something!" - -"Just some stiff remark when he thanked me." - -Alice, rising, left her table. MacBirney laughed. - -"Oh, I see. That's what's the matter. Well, you're quite mistaken, my -dear." Catching Alice in his arms as she passed, in a way he did when -he wished to seem affectionate, MacBirney drew his wife to him. "He -_did_ like it. He remarked to me just as he said good-night, that you -had a fine voice." - -"That does not sound like him--possibly he was ironical." - -"And when I thanked him," continued MacBirney, "he took the trouble to -repeat: 'That song was beautifully sung.' Those were his exact words." - -In spite of painful experiences it rarely occurred to Alice that her -husband might be deceiving her, nor did she learn till long afterward -that he had lied to her that night. With her feelings in some degree -appeased she only made an incredulous little exclamation: "He didn't ask -me to sing again," she added quietly. - -MacBirney shrugged his shoulders. "He is peculiar." - -"I try, Walter," she went on, lifting her eyes to his with an effort, -"to be as pleasant as I can to all of these people, for your sake." - -"I know it, Alice." He kissed her. "I know it. Let us see now what we -can do to cultivate Robert Kimberly. He is the third rail in this -combination, and he is the only one on the board of directors who voted -finally against taking us in." - -"Is that true?" - -"So Doane told Lambert, in confidence, and Lambert told me." - -"Oh, Lambert! That detestable fellow. I wouldn't believe anything he -said anyway." - -MacBirney bared his teeth pleasantly. "Pshaw! You hate him because he -makes fun of your Church." - -"No. I despise him, because he is a Catholic and ridicules his own." - -Her husband knew controversy was not the way to get a favor. "I guess -you're right about that, Allie. Anyway, try being pleasant to Kimberly. -The way you know how to be, Allie--the way you caught me, eh?" He drew -her to him with breezy enthusiasm. Alice showed some distress. - -"Don't say such things, please." - -"That was only a joke." - -"I hate such jokes." - -"Very well, I mean, just be natural," persisted MacBirney amiably, "you -are fascinating enough any old way." - -Alice manifested little spirit. "Does it make so much difference to -you, Walter, whether we pay attention to _him_?" - -MacBirney raised his eyebrows with a laughing start. "What an innocent -you are," he cried in a subdued tone. And his ways of speech, if ever -attractive, were now too familiar. "Difference!" he exclaimed cheerily. -"When they buy he will name the figure." - -"But I thought they had decided to buy." - -"The executive committee has authorized the purchase. But he, as -president, has been given the power to fix the price. Don't you see? -We can afford to smile a little, eh?" - -"It would kill me to smile if I had to do it for money." - -"Oh, you are a baby in arms, Allie," exclaimed her husband impatiently, -"just like your father! You'd starve to death if it weren't for me." - -"No doubt." - -MacBirney was still laughing at the idea when he left his wife's room, -and entering his own, closed the door. - -Alice, in her room, lay in the darkness for a long time with open eyes. - - - - - CHAPTER VII - - -The test of Alice's willingness to smile came within a brief fortnight, -when with the De Castros, she was the guest of Imogene Kimberly at The -Cliffs, Imogene's home. - -"This is all most informal," said Imogene, as she went downstairs -arm-in-arm with Alice; "as you see, only one-half the house is open." - -"The open half is so lovely," returned Alice, "that I'm glad to take the -other half on faith." - -"It was my only chance--this week, and as Dolly says, I 'jumped at it'! -I am sorry your husband has disappointed us." - -"He was called to town quite unexpectedly." - -"But Providence has provided a substitute. Robert Kimberly is coming." -Alice almost caught her breath. "He is another of those men," continued -Imogene, "whom you never can get when you want them. Fortunately he -telephoned a moment ago saying he _must_ see Charles. I answered that -the only possible way to see him was to come over now, for he is going -fishing and leaves at midnight. The guides wired this morning that the -ice is out. And when the ice goes out," Imogene raised her hands, -"neither fire nor earthquake can stop Charles. Here is Robert now. Oh, -and he has Doctor Hamilton with him. All the better. If we can get -both we shall have no lack of men." - -Robert Kimberly and Doctor Hamilton were coming down the hall. "How -delightful!" cried Imogene, advancing, "and I am so glad _you_'ve come, -doctor." - -Kimberly paused. He saw Alice lingering behind her hostess and the De -Castros with Fritzie Venable coming downstairs. - -"You have a dinner on," he said to Imogene. - -"Only a small one." - -"But you didn't tell me----" - -"Just to give you a chance to show your indifference to surprises, -Robert." - -She introduced Doctor Hamilton to Alice. "These two are always -together," she explained to Alice, lifting her fan toward the doctor and -her brother-in-law. "But any hostess is fortunate to capture them like -this, just the right moment." - -Hamilton, greeting Alice, turned to Imogene: "What is this about your -husband's going to Labrador to-morrow?" - -"He is going to-night. The salmon are doing something or other." - -"Deserted Gaspé, has he?" - -"Temporarily," said Imogene, pausing to give an order to a butler. -Robert waited a moment for her attention. "I brought the doctor," he -explained, "because I couldn't leave him to dine alone. And now----" - -"And now," echoed Imogene, "you see how beautifully it turns out. The -Nelsons declined, Mr. MacBirney disappoints me, Charles goes fishing, -and can't get home to-night in time to dine. But there are still seven -of us--what could be better? Mrs. De Castro will claim the doctor. -Arthur won't desert me, and, Robert, you may give an arm to Fritzie and -one to Mrs. MacBirney." - -There was now no escape from a smile, and Alice resolved to be loyal to -her hostess. The party moved into the drawing-room. - -Fritzie Venable tried to engage Kimberly in answering her questions -about a saddle-horse that one of his grooms had recommended. Kimberly -professed to know nothing about it. When it became apparent that he -really did know nothing of the horse, Fritzie insisted on explaining. - -Her spirited talk, whether concerning her own troubles or those of other -people, was not uninteresting. Soon she talked more especially to -Alice. Kimberly listened not inattentively but somewhat perfunctorily, -and the manner, noticeable at their second meeting, again impressed -Alice. - -Whether it was a constraint or an unpleasing reserve was not clear; and -it might have been the abstraction of a busied man, one of that type -familiar in American life who are inherently interesting, but whose -business affairs never wholly release their thought. - -Whatever the cause, Fritzie was sufficiently interested in her own -stories to ignore it and in a degree to overcome the effect of it. She -was sure of her ground because she knew her distinguished connection had -a considerate spot in his heart for her. She finally attacked him -directly, and at first he did not go to the trouble of a defence. When -she at length accused him, rather sharply, of letting business swallow -him up, Kimberly, with Alice listening, showed a trace of impatience. - -"The old sugar business!" Fritzie exclaimed reproachfully, "it is taking -the spirituality completely out of the Kimberly family." - -Robert looked at her in genuine surprise and burst into a laugh. -"What's that?" he demanded, bending incredulously forward. - -Fritzie tossed her head. "I don't care!" - -"Spirituality?" echoed Kimberly, with a quiet malice. His laugh annoyed -Fritzie, but she stuck to her guns: "Spirits, then; or gayety, or life!" -she cried. "I don't care what you call it. Anything besides -everlastingly piling up money. Oh, these almighty dollars!" - -"You tire of them so quickly, is it, Fritzie? Or is it that they don't -feel on familiar terms enough to stay long with you?" he asked, while -Alice was smiling at the encounter. - -Fritzie summoned her dignity and pointed every word with a nod. "I -simply don't want to see _all_ of my friends--ossify! Should you?" she -demanded, turning to Alice for approval. - -"Certainly not," responded Alice. - -"Bone black is very useful in our business," observed Kimberly. - -Fritzie's eyes snapped. "Then buy it! Don't attempt to supply the -demand out of your own bones!" - -It would have been churlish to refuse her her laugh. Kimberly and Alice -for the first time laughed together and found it pleasant. - -Fritzie, following up her advantage, asked Doctor Hamilton whether he -had heard Dora Morgan's latest joke. "She had a dispute," continued -Fritzie, "with George Doane last night about Unitarians and -Universalists----" - -"Heavens, have those two got to talking religion?" demanded Kimberly, -wearily. - -"George happened to say to Cready Hamilton that Unitarians and -Universalists believed just about the same doctrine. When Dora insisted -it was not so, George told her she couldn't name a difference. 'Why, -nonsense, George,' said Dora, 'Unitarians deny the divinity of Christ, -but Universalists don't believe in a damned thing.' And the funny part -of it was, George got furious at her," concluded Fritzie with merriment. - -"I suppose you, too, fish," ventured Alice to Kimberly as the party -started for the dining-room. - -"My fishing is something of a bluff," he confessed. "That is, I fish, -but I don't get anything. My brother really does get the fish," he said -as he seated her. "He campaigns for them--one has to nowadays, even for -fish. I can't scrape up interest enough in it for that. I whip one -pool after another and drag myself wearily over portages and chase about -in boats, and my guides fable wisely but I get next to nothing." - -Alice laughed. Even though he assumed incompetence it seemed assumed. -And in saying that he got no fish one felt that he did get them. - -Arthur was talking of Uncle John's nurse--whom the circle had nicknamed -"Lazarus." He referred to the sacrifices made sometimes by men. - -"It won't do to say," De Castro maintained, "that these men are mere -clods, that they have no nerves, no sensitiveness. The first one you -meet may be such a one; the next, educated or of gentle blood." - -"'Lazarus,'" he continued, "is by no means a common man. He is a -gentleman, the product of centuries of culture--this is evident from -five minutes' talk with him. Yet he has abandoned everything--family, -surroundings, luxuries--for a work that none of us would dream of -undertaking." - -"And what about women, my dear?" demanded Dolly. "I don't say, take a -class of women--take any woman. A woman's life is nothing but -sacrifice. The trouble is that women bear their burdens -uncomplainingly. That is where all women make a mistake. My life has -been a whole series of sacrifices, and I propose people shall know it." - -"No matter, Dolly," suggested Imogene, "your wrongs shall be righted in -the next world." - -"I should just like the chance to tell my story up there," continued -Dolly, fervently. - -Kimberly turned to Alice: "All that Dolly fears," said he, in an aside, -"is that heaven will prove a disappointment. But to change the subject -from heaven abruptly--you are from the West, Mrs. MacBirney." - -"Do you find the change so abrupt? and must I confess again to the -West?" - -"Not if you feel it incriminates you." - -"But I don't," protested Alice with spirit. - -"Has your home always been there?" - -"Yes, in St. Louis; and it is a very dear old place. Some of my early -married life was spent much farther West." - -"How much farther?" - -"So much that I can hardly make anybody comprehend it--Colorado." - -"How so?" - -"They ask me such wild questions about buffalos and Indians. I have -found one woman since coming here who has been as far West as Chicago, -once." - -"In what part of Colorado were you?" - -"South of Denver." - -"You had beautiful surroundings." - -"Oh, do you know that country?" - -"Not nearly as well as I should like to. It is beautiful." - -Alice laughed repentantly as she answered: "More beautiful to me now, -I'm afraid, than it was then." - -"Any town is quiet for a city girl, of course. Was it a small town?" - -"Quite small. And odd in many ways." - -"I see; where the people have 'best clothes'----" - -"Don't make fun." - -"And wear them on Sunday. And there is usually one three-story building -in the town--I was marooned over Sunday once in a little Western town, -with an uncle. I saw a sign on a big building: 'Odd Fellows' Hall.' -Who are the Odd Fellows, uncle?' I asked. He was a crusty old fellow: -'Optimists, my son, optimists,' he growled, 'They build three-story -buildings in two-story towns.' What was your town, by the way?" - -"Piedmont." - -"Piedmont?" Kimberly paused a moment. "I ought to know something of -that town." - -Alice looked surprised. "You?" - -"The uncle I spoke of built a railroad through there to the Gulf. Isn't -there a town below Piedmont named Kimberly?" - -"To be sure there is. How stupid! I never thought it was named after -your uncle." - -"No, that uncle was a Morgan,", interposed Imogene, listening, "the town -was named after your next neighbor." - -"How interesting! And how could you make such fun of me--having me tell -you of a country you knew all about! And a whole town named after you!" - -"That is a modest distinction," remarked Kimberly. "As a boy I was out -there with an engineering party and hunted a little. My uncle gave me -the town as a Christmas present." - -"A town for a Christmas present!" - -"I suspected after I began paying taxes on my present that my uncle had -got tired of it. They used to sit up nights out there to figure out new -taxes. In the matter of devising taxes it is the most industrious, -progressive, tireless community I have ever known. And their pleas were -so ingenious; they made you feel that if you opposed them you were an -enemy to mankind." - -"Then they beguiled Robert every once in a while," interposed Fritzie, -"into a town hall or public library or a park or electric lighting -plant. Once they asked him for a drinking fountain." Fritzie laughed -immoderately at the recollection. "He put in the fountain and afterward -learned there was no water within fifteen miles; they then urged him to -put in a water-works system to get water to it." - -"I suggested a brewery to supply the fountain," said Arthur, looking -over, "and that he might work out even by selling the surplus beer. -There were difficulties, of course; if he supplied the fountain with -beer, nobody would buy it in bottles. Then it was proposed to sell the -surplus beer to the neighboring towns. But with the fountain playing in -Kimberly, these would pretty certainly be depopulated. Per contra, it -was figured that this might operate to raise the price of his Kimberly -lots. But while we were working the thing out for him, what do you -think happened?" - -"I haven't an idea," laughed Alice. - -"The town voted for prohibition." - -"Fancy," murmured Imogene, "and named Kimberly!" - -"And what became of the fountain?" - -"Oh, it is running; he put in the water-works." - -"Generous man!" - -"Generous!" echoed Hamilton. "Don't be deceived, Mrs. MacBirney. You -should see what he charges them for water. I should think it would be -on his conscience, if he has one. He is Jupiter with the frogs. -Whatever they ask, he gives them. But when they get it--how they do get -it!" - -"Don't believe Doctor Hamilton, Mrs. MacBirney," said Robert Kimberly. -"I stand better with my Western friends than I do with these cynical -Easterners. And if my town will only drink up the maintenance charges, -I am satisfied." - -"The percentage of lime in the water he supplies is something fierce," -persisted the doctor. "It is enough to kill off the population every ten -years. I suggested a hospital." - -"But didn't Mr. MacBirney tell me they have a sugar factory there?" -asked Alice. - -"They have," said De Castro. "One of Robert's chemists was out there -once trying to analyze the taxes. Incidentally, he brought back some of -the soil, thinking there might be something in it to account for the tax -mania. And behold, he found it to be fine for sugar beets! Irrigation -ditches and a factory were put in. You should see how swell they are -out there now." - -"Robert has had all kinds of resolutions from the town," said Fritzie. - -Kimberly turned to Alice to supplement the remark. "Quite true, I -_have_ had all kinds--they are strong on resolutions. But lately these -have been less sulphurous." - -"Well, isn't it odd? My father's ranch once extended nearly all the way -from Piedmont to the very town you are speaking of!" exclaimed Alice. - -Kimberly looked at her with interest. "Was that really yours--the big -ranch north of Kimberly?" - -"I spent almost every summer there until I was fifteen." - -"That must have been until very lately." - -Alice returned his look with the utmost simplicity. "No, indeed, it is -ten years ago." - -Kimberly threw back his head and it fell forward a little on his chest. -"How curious," he said reflectively; "I knew the ranch very well." - -When they were saying good-night, Imogene whispered to Alice: "I -congratulate you." - -Alice, flushed with the pleasure of the evening, stood in her wraps. -She raised her brows in pleased surprise. "Pray what for?" - -"Your success. The evening, you know, was in your honor; and you were -decidedly the feature of it." - -"I really didn't suspect it." - -"And you made a perfect success with your unexpected neighbor." - -"But I didn't do anything at all!" - -"It isn't every woman that succeeds without trying. We have been -working for a long time to pull Robert out of the dumps." Imogene -laughed softly. "I noticed to-night while you were talking to him that -he tossed back his head once or twice. When he does that, he is waking -up! Here is your car, Dolly," she added, as the De Castros came into -the vestibule. - -"Arthur is going to take Doctor Hamilton and Fritzie in our car, -Imogene," explained Dolly. "Robert has asked Mrs. MacBirney and me to -drive home around the south shore with him." - - - - - CHAPTER VIII - - -Charles Kimberly was at The Towers the morning after the return from his -fishing trip, to confer with Uncle John and his brother upon the -negotiations for the MacBirney properties. In the consideration of any -question each of the three Kimberlys began with a view-point quite -distinct from those of the others. - -John Kimberly, even in old age and stricken physically to an appalling -degree, swerved not a hair's-breadth from his constant philosophy of -life. He believed first and last in force, and that feeble remnant of -vitality which disease, or what Dolly would have termed, "God's -vengeance," had left him, was set on the use of force. - -To the extent that fraud is an element of force, he employed fraud; but -it was only because fraud is a part of force, and whoever sets store by -the one will not always shrink from the other. Any disposition of a -question that lacked something of this complexion seemed to Uncle John a -dangerous one. - -Charles had so long seen bludgeoning succeed that it had become an -accepted part of his business philosophy. But in the day he now faced, -new forces had arisen. Public sentiment had become a factor in -industrial problems; John was blind to its dangerous power; Charles was -quite alive to it. - -New views of the problem of competition had been advanced, and in -advocating them, one of the Kimberlys, Robert, was known to be a leader. -This school sought to draw the sting of competitive loss through -understandings, coöperation, and peace, instead of suspicion, random -effort, and war. - -Charles saw this tendency with satisfaction; Uncle John saw it -sceptically. But Charles, influenced by the mastery of his uncle, -became unsettled in his conclusions and stood liable to veer in his -judgment to one side or the other of the question, as he might be swayed -by apprehensions concerning the new conditions or rested in confidence -in the policies of the old. - -Between these two Kimberly make-ups, the one great in attack, the other -in compromise, stood Robert. "Say what you please," Nelson often -repeated to McCrea, "John may be all right, but his day is past. -Charlie forgets every day more than the opposition know, all told. But -I call Robert the devil of the family. How does he know when to be -bold? Can you tell? How does he know when to be prudent? I know men, -if I do anything, McCrea--but I never can measure that fellow." - -Whatever Robert liked at least enlisted all of his activities and his -temperament turned these into steam cylinders. John Kimberly influenced -Robert in no way at all and after some years of profanity and rage -perceived that he never should. This discovery was so astounding that -after a certain great family crisis he silently and secretly handed the -sceptre of family infallibility over to his nephew. - -Left thus to himself, Robert continued to think for himself. The same -faculties that had served John a generation earlier now served Robert. -John had forgotten that when a young man he had never let anybody think -for him, and the energy that had once made John, also made his younger -nephew. - -The shrewdness that had once overcome competition by war now united with -competitors to overcome the public by peace. The real object of -industrial endeavor being to make money, a white-winged and benevolent -peace, as Nelson termed it, should be the policy of all interests -concerned. And after many hard words, peace with eighty per cent. of -the business was usually achieved by the united Kimberlys. - -It had cost something to reach this situation; and now that the West had -come into the sugar world it became a Kimberly problem to determine how -the new interests should be taken care of. - -On the morning that Charles called he found Uncle John in his chair. -They sent for Robert, and pending his appearance opened the conference. -At the end of a quarter of an hour Robert had not appeared. Charles -looked impatiently at his watch and despatched a second servant to -summon his brother. After twenty-five minutes a third call was sent. - -During this time, in the sunniest corner of the south garden, sheltered -by a high stone wall crested with English ivy and overgrown with -climbing roses, sat Robert Kimberly indolently watching Brother Francis -and a diminutive Skye terrier named Sugar. - -Sugar was one of Kimberly's dogs, but Francis had nursed Sugar through -an attack after the kennel keepers had given him up. And the little dog -although very sick and frowsy had finally pulled through. The intimacy -thus established between Sugar and Francis was never afterward broken -but by death. - -In this sunny corner, Kimberly, in a loose, brown suit of tweed, his -eyes shaded by a straw hat, sat in a hickory chair near a table. It was -the corner of the garden in which Francis when off duty could oftenest -be found. A sheltered walk led to the pergola along which he paced for -exercise. Near the corner of the wall stood an oak. And a bench, some -chairs and a table made the spot attractive. Sugar loved the bench, -and, curled up on it, usually kept watch while Francis walked. On cold -days the dog lay with one hair-curtained eye on the coming and going -black habit. On warm days, cocking one ear for the measured step, he -dozed. - -Francis, when Sugar had got quite well, expressed himself as scandalized -that the poor dog had never been taught anything. He possessed, his new -master declared, neither manners nor accomplishments, and Francis amid -other duties had undertaken, in his own words, to make a man of the -little fellow. - -Robert, sitting lazily by, instead of attending the conference call, and -apparently thinking of nothing--though no one could divine just what -might be going on under his black-banded hat--was watching Francis put -Sugar through some of the hard paces he had laid out for him. - -"That dog is naturally stupid, Francis--all my dogs are. They -continually cheat me on dogs," said Kimberly presently. "You don't -think so? Very well, I will bet you this bank-note," he took one from -his waistcoat as he spoke, "that you cannot stop him this time on -'two'." - -"I have no money to bet you, Robert." - -"I will give you odds." - -"You well know I do not bet--is it not so?" - -"You are always wanting money; now I will bet you the bank-note against -one dollar, Francis, that you cannot stop him on 'two'." - -Francis threw an eye at the money in Kimberly's hand. "How much is the -bank-note, Robert?" - -"One hundred dollars." - -Francis put the temptation behind him. "You would lose your money. -Sugar knows how to stop. In any case, I have no dollar." - -"I will bet the money against ten cents." - -"I have not even ten cents." - -"I am sorry, Francis, to see a man receiving as large a salary as you -do, waste it in dissipation and luxury. However, if you have no money, -I will bet against your habit." - -"If I should lose my habit, what would I do?" - -"You could wear a shawl," argued Kimberly. - -"All would laugh at me. In any case, to bet the clothes off my back -would be a sin." - -"I am so sure I am right, I will bet the money against your snuff-box, -Francis," persisted Kimberly. - -"My snuff-box I cannot bet, since Cardinal Santopaolo gave it to me." - -"Francis, think of what you could do for your good-for-nothing boys with -one hundred dollars." - -Francis lifted his dark eyes and shook his head. - -"I will bet this," continued the tempter, "against the snuff in your -box, that you can't stop him this time on 'two'." - -"Sugar will stop on 'two'," declared Francis, now wrought up. - -"Dare you bet?" - -"Enough! I bet! It is the snuff against the money. May my poor boys -win!" - -The sunny corner became active. Kimberly straightened up, and Francis -began to talk to Sugar. - -"Now tell me again," said Kimberly, "what this verse is." - -"I say to him," explained Francis, "that the good soldier goes to -war----" - -"I understand; then you say, 'One, two, three!'" - -"Exactly." - -"When you say 'three,' he gets the lump?" - -"Yes." - -"But the first time you say the verse you stop at 'two.' Then you -repeat the verse. If the dog takes the lump before you reach the end -the second time and say 'three'----" - -"You get the snuff!" Francis laid the box on the table beside -Kimberly's bank-note. - -"Sugar! Guarda!" The Skye terrier sat upright on his haunches and -lifted his paws. Francis gave him a preliminary admonition, took from a -mysterious pocket a lump of sugar, laid it on the tip of the dog's nose, -and holding up his finger, began in a slow and clearly measured tone: - - "Buon soldato - Va alia guerra, - Mangia male, - Dorme in terra. - Uno, due-- - Buon soldato - Va--" - - -But here Sugar, to Francis's horror, snapped the lump into his mouth and -swallowed it. - -"You lose," announced Kimberly. - -Francis threw up his hands. "My poor boys!" - -"This is the time, Francis, your poor boys don't get my money. I get -your snuff." - -"Ah, Sugar, Sugar! You ruin us." The little Skye sitting fast, looked -innocently and affectionately up at his distressed master. "Why," -demanded the crestfallen Francis, "could you not wait for the lump one -little instant?" - -"Sugar is like me," suggested Kimberly lazily, "he wants what he wants -when he wants it." - -Alice, this morning, had been deeply in his thoughts. From the moment -he woke he had been toying indolently with her image--setting it up -before his imagination as a picture, then putting it away, then tempting -his lethargy again with the pleasure of recalling it. - -He drew a cigar-case from his pocket and carefully emptied the snuff out -of the box into it. "When do you get more snuff, Francis?" - -"On Saturday." - -"This is Tuesday. The box is nearly full. It looks like good stuff." -He paused between each sentence. "But you would bet." - -Francis without looking busied himself with his little pupil. - -"I have emptied the box," announced Kimberly. There was no answer. "Do -you want any of it back?" - -Francis waved the offer aside. - -"A few pinches, Francis?" - -"Nothing." - -"That dog," continued Kimberly, rapping the box to get every grain out -and perceiving the impossibility of harrying Francis in any other way, -"is good for nothing anyway. He wasn't worth saving." - -"That dog," returned Francis earnestly, "is a marvel of intelligence and -patience. He has so sweet a temper, and he is so quick, Robert, to -comprehend." - -"I fail to see it." - -"You will see it. The fault is in me." - -"I don't see that either." - -Francis looked at Kimberly appealingly and pointed benevolently at -Sugar. "I ask too much of that little dog. He will learn. 'Patience, -Francis,' he says to me, 'patience; I will learn.'" - -Summoning his philosophy to bridge over the disappointment, Francis, as -he stood up, absent-mindedly felt in his deep pocket for his snuff-box. -It was in difficulties such as this that recourse to a frugal pinch -steadied him. He recollected instantly that the snuff was gone, and -with some haste and stepping about, he drew out his handkerchief -instead--glancing toward Kimberly as he rubbed his nose vigorously to -see if his slip had been detected. - -Needless to say it had been--less than that would not have escaped -Kimberly, and he was already enjoying the momentary discomfiture. Sugar -at that moment saw a squirrel running down the walk and tore after him. - -Francis with simple dignity took the empty snuff-box from the table and -put it back in his pocket. His composure was restored and the incident -to him was closed. - -Kimberly understood him so well that it was not hard to turn the talk to -a congenial subject. "I drove past the college the other day. I see -your people are doing some building." - -Francis shrugged his shoulders. "A laundry, Robert." - -"Not a big building, is it?" - -"We must go slow." - -"It is over toward where you said the academy ought to go." - -"My poor academy! They do not think it will ever come." - -"You have more buildings now than you have students. What do you want -with more buildings?" - -"No, no. We have three hundred students--three hundred now." Francis -looked at his questioner with eyes fiercely eager. "That is the -college, Robert. The academy is something else--for what I told you." - -"What did you tell me?" Kimberly lighted a cigar and Francis began -again to explain. - -"This is it: Our Sisters in the city take now sixteen hundred boys from -seven to eight years old. These boys they pick up from the orphan -courts, from the streets, from the poor parents. When these boys are -twelve the Sisters cannot keep them longer, they must let them go and -take in others. - -"Here we have our college and these boys are ready for it when they are -sixteen. But, between are four fatal years--from twelve to sixteen. If -we had a school for _such_ boys, think what we could do. They would be -always in hand; now, they drift away. They must go to work in the city -filth and wickedness. Ah, they need the protection we could give them -in those terrible four years, Robert. They need the training in those -years to make of them mechanics and artisans--to give them a chance, to -help them to do more than drift without compass or rudder--do you not -see? - -"Those boys that are bright, that we find ready to go further, they are -ready at sixteen for our college; we keep and educate them. But the -others--the greater part--at sixteen would leave us, but trained to -earn. And strengthened during those four critical years against evil. -Ah!" - -Francis paused. He spoke fast and with an intensity that absorbed him. - -Kimberly, leaning comfortably back, sat with one foot resting on his -knee. He knocked the ash of his cigar upon the heel of his shoe as he -listened--sometimes hearing Francis's words, sometimes not. He had -heard all of them before at one time or another; the plea was not new to -him, but he liked the fervor of it. - -"Ah! It is not for myself that I beg." Brother Francis's hands fell -resignedly on his knees. "It is for those poor boys, to keep them, -Robert, from going to hell--from hell in this world and in the next. To -think of it makes me always sorrowful--it makes a beggar of me--a -willing beggar." - -Kimberly moved his cigar between his lips. - -"But where shall I get so much money?" exclaimed Francis, helplessly. -"It will take a million dollars to do what we ought to do. You are a -great man, Robert; tell me, how shall I find it?" - -"I can't tell you how to find it; I can tell you how to make it." - -"How?" - -"Go into the sugar business." - -"Then I must leave God's business." - -"Francis, if you will pardon me, I think for a clever man you are in -some respects a great fool. I am not joking. What I have often said -about your going into the sugar business, I repeat. You would be worth -ten thousand dollars a year to me, and I will pay you that much any -day." - -Francis looked at Kimberly as if he were a madman, but contented himself -with moving his head slowly from side to side in protest. "I cannot -leave God's business, Robert. I must work for him and pray to him for -the money. Sometime it will come." - -"Then tell Uncle John to raise your wages," suggested Kimberly, -relapsing into indifference. - -"Robert, will you not sometime give me a letter to introduce me to the -great banker who comes here, Hamilton?" - -"He will not give you anything." - -"He has so much money; how can he possibly need it all?" - -"You forget, Francis, that nobody needs money so much as those that have -it." - -"Ah!" - -"Hamilton may have no more money than I have, and you don't ask me for a -million dollars." - -"It is not necessary to ask you. You know I need it. If you could give -it to me, you would." - -"If I gave you a million dollars how should I ever get it back?" - -Francis spoke with all seriousness. "God will pay you back." - -"Yes, but when? That is a good deal of money to lend to God." - -"It is a good deal." - -"When do I get it back, and how?" - -"He will surely pay you, Robert; God pays over there." - -"That won't do--over there. It isn't honest." - -Francis started. "Not honest?" - -"You are offering deferred dividends, Francis. What would my -stockholders say if I tried that kind of business? Gad, they would drag -me into court." - -"Ah, yes! But, Robert; you pay for to-day: he pays for eternity." - -Kimberly smoked a moment. "In a proposition of that kind, Francis, it -seems to me the question of guarantees is exceedingly important. You -good men are safe enough; but where would the bad men come in on your -eternal dividends?" - -"You are not with the bad men, Robert. Your heart is not bad. You are, -perhaps, cruel----" - -"_What?_" - -"But generous. Sometime God will give you a chance." - -"You mean, sometime I will give God a chance." - -"No, Robert, what I say I mean--sometime, God will give you a chance." - -Charles Kimberly's impatient voice was heard from the pergola. - -"Robert! We've been waiting thirty minutes," he stormed. - -"I am just coming." - - - - - CHAPTER IX - - -That afternoon MacBirney played golf with Charles Kimberly. Toward five -o'clock, Alice in one of the De Castro cars drove around to The -Hickories after him. When he came in, she was sitting on the porch with -a group of women, among them Fritzie Venable and Lottie Nelson. - -"I must be very displeasing to Mrs. Nelson," Alice said to her husband -as they drove away. "It upsets me completely to meet that woman." - -"Why, what's the matter with _her_?" asked MacBirney, in a tone which -professing friendly surprise really implied that the grievance might -after all be one of imagination. - -"I haven't an idea," declared Alice a little resentfully. "I am not -conscious of having done a thing to offend her." - -"You are oversensitive." - -"But, Walter, I can tell when people mean to be rude." - -"What did Mrs. Nelson do that was rude?" asked her husband in his -customary vein of scepticism. - -"She never does anything beyond ignoring me," returned Alice. "It must -be, I think, that she and I instinctively detest each other. They were -talking about a dinner and musicale Thursday night that Mr. Robert -Kimberly is giving at The Towers. Miss Venable said she supposed we -were going, and I had to say I really didn't know. We haven't been -asked, have we?" - -"Not that I know of." - -"Mrs. Nelson looked at me when Fritzie spoke; I think it is the first -time that she ever has looked at me, except when she had to say -'good-morning' or 'good-evening.' I was confused a little when I -answered, I suppose; at any rate, she enjoyed it. Mr. Kimberly would -not leave us out, would he?" - -"I don't think so. He was playing golf this afternoon with Cready -Hamilton, and he stopped to offer me his yacht for the week of the cup -races." - -"Why, how delightful! How came he ever to do that?" - -"And I think he has made up his mind what he is going to do about -placing me on the board," continued MacBirney, resuming his hard, thin -manner and his eager tone of business. "I wish I knew just what is -coming." - -Alice had scarcely reached her room when she found the dinner -invitation. She felt a little thrill of triumph as she read it. Her -maid explained that the note had been laid in the morning with Mrs. De -Castro's letters. - -Late in the evening Kimberly came over with his sister-in-law, Imogene. -The De Castros were at the seashore overnight and the visitors' cards -were sent up to the MacBirneys. It was warm and the party sat on the -south veranda. Kimberly talked with Alice and she told him they hoped to -be present at his dinner. - -"You are sure to be, aren't you?" he asked. "The evening is given for -you." - -"For us?" - -"No, not for 'us,' but for you," he said distinctly. "Mr. MacBirney has -said he is fond of the water--you like music; and I am trying something -for each of you. I should have asked you about your engagements before -the cards went out. If there is any conflict the date can easily be -recalled." - -"Oh, no. That would be a pity." - -"Not at all. I change my arrangements when necessary every ten -minutes." - -"But there isn't any conflict, and I shall be delighted to come. Pray, -how do you know I like music?" - -"I heard you say so once to Arthur De Castro. Tell me what you are -amused about?" - -"Have I betrayed any amusement?" - -"For just about the hundredth part of a second, in your eyes." - -They were looking at each other and his gaze though within restraint was -undeniably alive. Alice knew not whether she could quite ignore it or -whether her eyes would drop in an annoying admission of -self-consciousness. She avoided the latter by confessing. "I am sure I -don't know at all what you are talking about----" - -"I am sure you do, but you are privileged not to tell if you don't want -to." - -"Then--our dinner card was mislaid and until to-night we didn't know -whether----" - -"There was going to be any dinner." - -"Oh, I knew that. I was at the Casino this afternoon----" - -"I saw you." - -"And when I was asked whether I was going to the dinner at The Towers I -couldn't, of course, say." - -"Who asked you, Mrs. Nelson?" - -"No, indeed. What made you think it was she?" - -"Because she asked me if you were to be there. When I said you were, she -laughed in such a way I grew suspicious. I thought, perhaps, for some -reason you could not come, and now _I_ am confessing--I ran over -to-night expressly to find out." - -"How ridiculous!" - -"Rather ridiculous of me not to know before-hand." - -"I don't mean that--just queer little complications." - -"A mislaid dinner-card might be answerable for more than that." - -"It was Miss Venable who asked, quite innocently. And had I known all I -know now, I could have taken a chance, perhaps, and said yes." - -"You would have been taking no chance where my hospitality is -concerned." - -"Thank you, Mr. Kimberly, for my husband and myself." - -"And you might have added in this instance that if you did not go there -would be no dinner." - -Alice concealed an embarrassment under a little laugh. "My husband told -me of your kindness in placing your yacht at our disposal for the -races." - -"At his disposal." - -"Oh, wasn't I included in that?" - -"Certainly, if you would like to be. But tastes differ, and you and Mr. -MacBirney being two----" - -"Oh, no, Mr. Kimberly; my husband and I are one." - -"--and possibly of different tastes," continued Kimberly, "I thought -only of him. I hope it wasn't ungracious, but some women, you know, -hate the water. And I had no means of knowing whether you liked it. If -you do----" - -"And you are not going to the races, yourself?" - -"If you do, I shall know better the next time how to arrange." - -"And you are not going to the races?" - -"Probably not. Do you like the water?" - -"To be quite frank, I don't know." - -"How so?" - -"I like the ocean immensely, but I don't know how good a sailor I should -be on a yacht." - -Imogene was ready to go home. Kimberly rose. "I understand," he said, -in the frank and reassuring manner that was convincing because quite -natural. "We will try you some time, up the coast," he suggested, -extending his hand. "Good-night, Mrs. MacBirney." - -"I believe Kimberly is coming to our side," declared MacBirney after he -had gone upstairs with Alice. - -Annie had been dismissed and Alice was braiding her hair. "I hope so; I -begin to feel like a conspirator." - -MacBirney was in high spirits. "You don't look like one. You look just -now like Marguerite." He put his hands around her shoulders, and -bending over her chair, kissed her. The caress left her cold. - -"Poor Marguerite," she said softly. - -"When is the dinner to be?" - -"A week from Thursday. Mr. Kimberly says the yacht is for you, but the -dinner is for me," continued Alice as she lifted her eyes toward her -husband. - -"Good for you." - -"He is the oddest combination," she mused with a smile, and lingering -for an instant on the adjective. "Blunt, and seemingly -kind-hearted----" - -"Not kind-hearted," MacBirney echoed, incredulously. "Why, even Nelson, -and he's supposed to think the world and all of him, calls him as cold -as the grave when he _wants_ anything." - -Alice stuck to her verdict. "I can't help what Nelson says; and I don't -pretend to know how Mr. Kimberly would act when he wants anything. A -kind-hearted man is kind to those he likes, and a cold-blooded man is -just the same to those he likes and those he doesn't like. There is -always something that stands between a cold-blooded man and real -consideration for those he likes--and that something is himself." - -Alice was quite willing her husband should apply her words as he -pleased. She thought he had given her ample reason for her reflection -on the subject. - -But MacBirney was too self-satisfied to perceive what her words meant -and too pleased with the situation to argue. "Whatever he is," he -responded, "he is the wheel-horse in this combination--everybody agrees -on that--and the friendship of these people is an asset the world over. -If we can get it and keep it, we are the gainers." - -"Whatever we do," returned Alice, "don't let us trade on it. I shrink -from the very thought of being a gainer by his or any other friendship. -If we are to be friends, do let us be so through mutual likes and -interests. Mr. Kimberly would know instantly if we designed it in any -other way, I am sure. I never saw such penetrating eyes. Really, he -takes thoughts right out of my head." - -MacBirney laughed in a hard way. "He might take them out of a woman's -head. I don't think he would take many out of a man's." - -"He wouldn't need to, dear. A man's thought's, you know, are clearly -written on the end of his nose. I wish I knew what to wear to Mr. -Kimberly's dinner." - - - - - CHAPTER X - - -One morning shortly after the MacBirneys had been entertained at The -Towers John Kimberly was wheeled into his library where Charles and -Robert were waiting for him. Charles leaned against the mantel and his -brother stood at a window looking across the lake toward Cedar Point. -As Francis left the room Uncle John's eyes followed him. Presently they -wandered back with cheerful suspicion toward his nephews, and he laid -his good arm on the table as they took chairs near him. - -"Well?" he said lifting his eyebrows and looking blandly from one to the -other. - -"Well?" echoed Charles good-naturedly, looking from Uncle John to -Robert. - -"Well?" repeated Robert with mildly assumed idiocy, looking from Charles -back again to Uncle John. - -But Uncle John was not to be committed by any resort to his own tactics, -and he came back at Charles on the flank. "Get any fish?" he asked, as -if assured that Charles would make an effort to deceive him in -answering. - -"We sat around for a while without doing a thing, Uncle John. Then they -began to strike and I had eight days of the best sport I ever saw on the -river," - -Uncle John buried his disappointment under a smile. "Good fishing, eh?" - -"Excellent." - -There was evidently no opening on this subject, and Uncle John tried -another tender spot. "Yacht go any better?" - -"McAdams has done wonders with it, Uncle John. She never steamed so -well since she was launched." - -"Cost a pretty penny, eh, Charlie?" - -"That is what pretty pennies are for, isn't it?" - -Unable to disturb his nephew's peace of mind, Uncle John launched -straight into business. "What are you going to do with those fellows?" - -"You mean the MacBirney syndicate? Robert tells me he has concluded to -be liberal with them." - -"He is giving too much, Charlie." - -"He knows better what the stuff is worth than we do." - -Uncle John smiled sceptically. "He will give them more than they are -worth, I am afraid." - -Robert said nothing. - -"Perhaps there is a reason for that," suggested Charles. - -They waited for Robert to speak. He shifted in his chair presently and -spoke with some decision. His intonation might have been unpleasant but -that the depth and fulness of his voice redeemed it. The best note in -his utterance was its open frankness. - -"Uncle John understands this matter just as well as I do," he began, -somewhat in protest. - -"We have been over the ground often. These people have been an -annoyance to us; this is undeniable. McCrea has complained of them for -two years. Through a shift in the cards--this money squeeze--we have -them to-day in our hands----" - -Uncle John's eyes shone and he clasped the fingers of one hand tightly -in the other. "That is what I say; trim them!" he whispered eagerly. - -Robert went on, unmoved: "Let us look at that, too. He wants me to trim -them. I have steadily opposed buying them at all. But the rest of you -have overruled me. Very good. They know now that they are in our -power. They are, one and all, bushwhackers and guerillas. To my mind -there isn't a trustworthy man in the crowd--not even MacBirney. - -"They have made selling agreements with McCrea again and again and left -him to hold the sack. We can't do business in that way. When we give -our word it must be good. They give their word to break it. Whenever -we make a selling agreement with such people we get beaten, invariably. -They have cut into us on the Missouri River, at St. Paul, even at -Chicago--from their Kansas plants. They make poor sugar, but it sells, -and even when it won't sell, it demoralizes the trade. Now they are on -their knees. They want us to buy to save what they've got invested. At -a receiver's sale they would get nothing. But on the other hand Lambert -might get the plants. If we tried to bid them in there would be a howl -from the Legislature, perhaps." - -Uncle John was growing moody, for the prey was slipping through his -fingers. "It might be better to stand pat," he muttered. - -Robert paid no attention. "What I propose, and God knows I have -explained it before, is this: These people can be trimmed, or they can -be satisfied. I say give them eleven millions--six millions cash--three -millions preferred and two millions in our common for fifty per cent of -their stock instead of sixteen millions for all of their stock." - -Uncle John looked horror stricken. "It is nothing to us," exclaimed -Robert, impatiently. "I can make the whole capital back in twelve -months with McCrea to help MacBirney reorganize and run the plants. It -is a fortune for them, and we keep MacBirney and the rest of them, for -ten years at least, from scheming to start new plants. Nelson says there -are legal difficulties about buying more than half their stock. But the -voting control of all of it can be safely trusteed." - -Uncle John could barely articulate: "Too much, it is too much." - -"Bosh. This is a case where generosity is 'plainly indicated,' as -Hamilton says." - -"Too much." - -"Robert is right," asserted Charles curtly. - -Uncle John threw his hand up as if to say: "If you are resolved to ruin -us, go on!" - -"You will be surprised at the success of it," concluded Robert. -"MacBirney wants to come here to live, though Chicago would be the -better place for him. Let him be responsible for the Western territory. -With such an arrangement we ought to have peace out there for ten years. -If we can, it means just one hundred millions more in our pockets than -we can make in the face of this continual price cutting." - -Charles rose. "Then it is settled." - -Uncle John ventured a last appeal. "Make the cash five and a half -millions." - -"Very good," assented Robert, who to meet precisely this objection had -raised the figure well above what he intended to pay. "As you like, -Uncle John," he said graciously. "Charles, make the cash five and a -half millions." - -And Uncle John went back to his loneliness, treasuring in his heart the -half million he had saved, and encouraged by his frail triumph in the -conference over his never-quite-wholly-understood nephew. - -At a luncheon next day, the decision was laid by Charles and Robert -before the Kimberly partners, by whom it was discussed and approved. - -In the evening Charles, with Robert listening, laid the proposal before -MacBirney, who had been sent for and whose astonishment at the -unexpected liberality overwhelmed him. - -He was promptly whirled away from The Towers in a De Castro car. And -from a simple after-dinner conference, in which he had sat down at ten -o'clock a promoter, he had risen at midnight with his brain reeling, a -millionaire. - -Alice excused herself when her husband appeared at Black Rock, and -followed him upstairs. She saw how he was wrought up. In their room, -with eyes burning with the fires of success, he told her of the -stupendous change in their fortunes. With an affection that surprised -and moved Alice, who had long believed that never again could anything -from him move her, he caught her closely in his arms. - -Tears filled her eyes. He wiped them away and forced a laugh. "Too -good to be true, dearie, isn't it?" - -She faltered an instant. "If it will only bring us happiness, Walter." - -"Alice, I'm afraid I have been harsh, at times." Her memory swept over -bitter months and wasted years, but her heart was touched. "It is all -because I worry too much over business. There will be no more worries -now--they are past and gone. And I want you to forget everything, -Allie." He embraced her fervently. "I have had a good deal of anxiety -first and last. It is over now. Great God! This is so easy here. -Everything is so easy for these people." - -The telephone bell tinkled. Through a mist of tears Alice felt her -husband's kiss. She rose to answer the bell. Dolly was calling from -downstairs. "Come down both of you," she said. "Charles and Imogene are -here with Fritzie and Robert." - -With Charles and Imogene had come a famous doctor from the city, -Hamilton's friend, Doctor Bryson. Alice protested she could not come -down. Dolly told her she "simply must." The controversy upset Alice -but she had at last to give way. She bathed her face in cold water and -her husband deceived her with assurances that her eyes showed no traces -of tears. - -Very uncertain about them, she followed MacBirney down, taking refuge at -once in a corner with Imogene. - -While the two were talking, Grace De Castro and Larrie Morgan came in, -bringing some young friends. "Aren't they the nicest couple?" exclaimed -Alice as they crossed the room. - -"It is a blessing they are," said Imogene. "You see, Grace will probably -succeed to the De Castro fortune, and Larrie is likely sometime to have -the Kimberly burdens. It crushes me to think that Charles and I have no -children." - -"Are you so fond of children?" Alice asked wistfully. - -"Why, of course, dear; aren't you?" - -"Indeed I am, too fond of them. I lost my only child, a baby girl----" - -"And you never have had another?" - -"No." - -"If Robert would marry, we should have a family hope there," continued -Imogene. "But I am afraid he never will. How did you enjoy your -evening at The Towers?" - -"We had a delightful time." - -"Isn't Robert a good host? I love to see him preside. And he hasn't -given a dinner before for years." - -"Why is that?" - -Imogene laid her hand gently on Alice's. "It is a long story, dear, a -tragedy came into his life--into all our lives, in fact. It changed him -greatly." - -Soon after the MacBirneys came down, the Nelsons arrived on the scene -and the company moved to a south room to get the breeze. Imogene talked -with Alice and MacBirney, but Kimberly joined them and listened, taking -part at intervals in the conversation. - -When Imogene's attention was taken by MacBirney, Robert, asking Alice if -she got the air from the cooling windows, moved her chair to where the -breeze could be felt more perceptibly. "I hope you haven't had bad news -to-night," he said, taking a seat on a divan near her. - -She understood instantly that her eyes had not escaped his scrutiny, but -concealed her annoyance as best she could. "No, indeed. But I had some -exciting news to-night." - -"What was it?" - -"Oh, I mayn't tell, may I? I am not supposed to know anything, am I?" - -Her little uncertainty and appeal made her charmingly pretty, he -thought, as he watched her. The traces in her eyes of tears attracted -him more than anything he had seen before. Her first little air of -annoyed defiance and her effort to throw him off the track, all -interested him, and her appeal now, made in a manner that plainly said -she was aware the secret of the news was his own, pleased him. - -He was in the mood of one who had made his plans, put them through -generously, and was ready for the enjoyment that might follow. -"Certainly, you are supposed to know," said he graciously. "Why not? -And you may tell if you like. At any rate, I absolve you as far as -_I'm_ concerned. I couldn't conceive you guilty of a very serious -indiscretion." - -"Then I suppose you know that we are very happy, and why--don't you?" - -"Perhaps; but that should be mere excitement. How about the tears?" - -She frowned an impatient protest and rose. "Oh, I haven't said anything -about tears. They are going out on the porch--shall we join them?" He -got up reluctantly and followed her. - -Arthur De Castro and Charles Kimberly offered chairs to Alice. They -were under a cluster of electric lamps, where she did not wish to sit -for inspection. As she hesitated Robert Kimberly spoke behind her. -"Possibly it will be pleasanter over here, Mrs. MacBirney." - -He was in the shadow and had drawn a chair for her near Nelson outside -the circle of light, from which she was glad to escape. He took the -seat under the light himself. When an ice was served, the small tables -were drawn together. Alice, occupied with Nelson, who inspired by his -vis-à-vis had summoned something of his grand air, lost the conversation -of the circle until she heard Doctor Bryson, and turned with Nelson to -listen. He was thanking Mrs. De Castro for a compliment. - -"I am always glad to hear anything kind of my profession." He spoke -simply and his manner Alice thought engaging. "It _is_ a high -calling--and I know of but one higher. We hear the complaint that -nowadays medicine is a savagely mercenary profession. If a measure of -truth lies in the charge I think it is due to the fact that doctors are -victims of the mercenary spirit about them. It's a part of the very air -they breathe. They can't escape it. The doctor, to begin with, must -spend one small fortune to get his degree. He must spend another to -equip himself for his work. Ten of the best years of his life go -practically to getting ready. His expense for instruments, appliances, -and new and increasingly elaborate appointments is continuous." - -"But doctor," Fritzie Venable leaned forward with a grave and lengthened -face, "think of the fees!" - -The doctor enjoyed the laugh. "Quite true. When you find an ambitious -doctor, unless his energy is restrained by a sense of his high -responsibility, he may be possessed of greed. If a surgeon be set too -fast on fame he will affect the spectacular and cut too much and too -freely. I admit all of this. My plea is for the conscientious doctor, -and believe me, there are many such. Nor must you forget that, at the -best, half our lives we are too young to please and half our lives too -old." - -"Hamilton said the other night," observed Robert Kimberly, filling in -the pause, "that a good doctor must spend his time in killing, not his -own patients, but his own business." - -"No other professional man is called on to do that," observed Bryson. -"Indeed, the saddest of all possible proofs of the difficulties of our -calling is found in the fact that the suicide rate among doctors is the -highest in the learned professions." - -MacBirney expressed surprise. "I had no idea of such a thing. Had you, -Mr. Kimberly?" he asked with his sudden energy. - -"I have known it, but perhaps only because I have been interested in -questions of that kind." - -Dolly's attention was arrested at once by the mention of suicide. "Oh, -dear," she exclaimed, "Don't let us talk about suicide." - -But Robert Kimberly could not always be shut off and this subject he -pursued with a certain firmness. Some of the family were disturbed but -no one presumed to interfere. "Suicide," he went on, "has a painful -interest for many people. Has your study of it, doctor, ever led you to -believe that it presupposes insanity?" he asked of Bryson. - -"By no means." - -"You conclude then that sane men and women do commit suicide?" - -"Frequently, Mr. Kimberly." - -Kimberly drew back in his chair. "I am glad to be supported in my own -conviction. The fact is," he went on in a humorous tone, "I am forced -either to hold in this way or conclude that I am sprung from a race of -lunatics." - -"Robert," protested Dolly, "can't we talk about something else?" - -Kimberly, however, persisted, and he now had, for some reason not clear -to Alice, a circle of painfully acute listeners. "The insanity theory -is in many cases a comfortable one. But I don't find it so, and I must -stick to the other and regard suicide as the worst possible solution of -any possible difficulty." - -Doctor Bryson nodded assent. Kimberly spoke on with a certain -intensity. "If every act of a man's life had been a brave one," he -continued, "his suicide would be all the more the act of a coward. I -don't believe that kind of a man can commit suicide. Understand, I am -considering the act of a man--not that of a youth or of one immature." - -"Well, I don't care what you are _considering_, Robert," declared Dolly -with unmistakable emphasis, "we will _talk_ about something else." - - - - - CHAPTER XI - - -The conversation split up. Kimberly, unruffled, turned to Alice and -went on in an undertone: "I am going to tell you Francis's views on the -subject anyway. He has the most intense way of expressing himself and -the pantomime is so contributing. 'Suicide, Mr. Kimberly,' he said to -me one day, 'is no good. What would a man look like going back to God, -carrying his head in his hand? "Well, I am back, and here are the -brains you gave me." "What did you do with them?" "I blew them out -with a bullet!" That is a poor showing I think, Mr. Kimberly, for -business. Suicide is _no_ good.'" - -"But who is this Brother Francis," asked Alice, "whom I hear so much of? -Tell me about him." - -"He is one of the fixtures at The Towers. A religious phenomenon whom I -personally think a great deal of; an attendant and a nurse. He is an -Italian with the courtesy of a gentleman worn under a black gown so -shabby that it would be absurd to offer it to a second-hand man." - -"Does the combination seem so odd?" - -"To me he _is_ an extraordinary combination." - -"How did you happen to get him?" - -"That also is curious. The Kimberlys are cantankerous enough when well; -when ill they are likely to be insupportable. Not only that, but -kindness and faithfulness are some of the things that money cannot buy; -they give themselves but never sell themselves. When my uncle fell ill, -after a great mental strain, we hired nurses for him until we were -distracted--men and women, one worse than another. We tried all colors -and conditions of human kind without finding one that would suit Uncle -John. I began to think of throwing him into the lake--and told him so. -He cried like a child the day I had the set-to with him. To say the -truth, the old gentleman hasn't many friends left anywhere, but early -impressions are a great deal to us, you know, and I remember him when he -was a figure in the councils of the sugar world. - -"I recall," continued Kimberly, "a certain Black Friday in our own -little affairs when the wolves got after us. The banks were throwing -over our securities by the wagon-load, and this old man who sits and -swears and shakes there, alone, upstairs, was all that remained between -us and destruction. He stood in our down-town office with fifty men -fighting to get at him--struggling, yelling, screaming, and cursing, and -some who couldn't even scream or curse, livid and pawing the air. - -"He stood behind his desk all day like a field-marshal, counselling, -advising, ordering, buying, steadying, reassuring, juggling millions in -his two hands like conjuror's balls. I could never forget that. I am -not answering your question----" - -"But do go on!" There were no longer tears in Alice's eyes. They were -alive with interest. "That," she exclaimed, "was splendid!" - -"He won out, and then he set himself on vengeance. That was the end of -our dependence on other people's banks. Most people learn sooner or -later that a banking connection is an expensive luxury. He finally -drove off the street the two institutions that tried to save themselves -at our expense. The father of Cready and Frank Hamilton, Richard -Hamilton, a rank outsider, helped Uncle John in that crisis and Uncle -John made Richard Hamilton to pillow his head on tens of millions. -Since that day we have been our own bankers; that is, we own our own -banks. And I this is curious, never from that day to this has Uncle -John completely trusted any man--not even me--except this very man we -are talking about." - -"Brother Francis?" - -"Brother Francis. You asked how I got him; it is not uninteresting; a -sort of sermon on good deeds. Just before this big school in the valley -was started, the order to which he belongs had been expelled from -France--it was years ago; the reformers over there needed their -property. Half a dozen of the Brothers landed down here in the village -with hardly a coat to their backs. But they went to work and in a few -years had a little school. The industry of these people is -astonishing." - -"One day they came to The Towers for aid. Old Brother Adrian, the head -Brother, came himself--as he long afterward told me--with a heavy heart, -indeed, with fear and trembling. The iron gates and the Krupp eagles -frightened him, he said, when he entered the grounds. And when he asked -for the mistress of the house, he could hardly find voice to speak. My -mother was away, so Aunt Lydia appeared--you have seen her portrait, -haven't you?" - -"No." - -"You must; it is not unlike you. Aunt Lydia and my mother were two of -the loveliest women I have ever known. When she came down that day, -Brother Adrian supposing it was my mother begged a slight aid for the -work they had undertaken in the valley. Aunt Lydia heard him in -silence, and without saying a word went upstairs, wrote out a cheque and -brought it down. He glanced at the figures on it--fifty--thanked her, -gave it to the young Brother with him, and with some little compliment -to the beauty of The Towers, rose to go. - -"While they were moving toward the door the young Brother, studying the -cheque grew pale, halted, looked at it again and handed it to his -superior. Brother Adrian looked at the paper and at the young Brother -and stood speechless. The two stared a moment at each other. Aunt Lydia -enjoyed the situation. Brother Adrian had thought the gift had been -fifty dollars--it was fifty thousand. - -"He fainted. Servants were hurried in. Even when he recovered, he was -dazed--he really for a year had not had enough to eat. Aunt Lydia -always delighted in telling how the young Brother helped him down the -avenue after he could walk. This is a tediously long story." - -"Do go on." - -"When he again reached the big iron gates he turned toward the house and -with many strange words and gestures called down the mercies of Heaven -on that roof and all that should ever sleep under it----" - -"How beautiful!" - -"He blessed us right and left, up and down, fore and aft--he was a fine -old fellow, Adrian. When my mother heard the story she was naturally -embarrassed. It looked something like obtaining blessings under false -pretences. The only thing she could do to ease her conscience was to -send over a second cheque." - -"Princely!" - -"It came near killing Brother Adrian. It seems odd, too, compared with -the cut-and-dried way in which we solemnly endow institutions nowadays, -doesn't it? They all three are dead, but we have always stood, in a -way, with Adrian's people. - -"The young man that made the exciting call with him is now the superior -over there, Brother Edmund. After the trouble we had with Uncle John, -in finding some one he could stand and who could stand him, I went one -day in despair to Brother Edmund. I allowed him to commit himself -properly on what they owed to Aunt Lydia's goodness and the rest, and -then began to abuse him and told him he ought to supply a nurse for my -uncle. He told me theirs was a teaching order and not a nursing order. -I redoubled my harshness. 'It is all very well when _you_ need -anything,' I said, 'when _we_ need anything it is different. Did those -women,' I thundered, 'ask what you were, when you were starving here?' - -"It wasn't precisely logical, but abuse should be vigorous rather than -logical, anyway, and I tried to be vigorous. They got very busy, I can -tell you. They held a conclave of some sort and decided that Uncle John -must be taken care of. If he were a common pauper, they argued, they -would not refuse to take care of him; should they refuse because he was -a pauper of means? They concluded that it was a debt they owed to Aunt -Lydia and by Heaven, next morning over came this sallow-faced, dark-eyed -Brother Francis, and there he is still with Uncle John." - - - - - CHAPTER XII - - -MacBirney's personal efforts in effecting the combination with the -Kimberly interests were adjudged worthy of a substantial recognition at -the hands of the company and he was given charge of the Western -territory together with a place on the big directorate of all the -companies and made one of the three voting trustees of the syndicate -stock. The two other trustees were, as a "matter of form," Kimberly -men--McCrea and Cready Hamilton. This meant for MacBirney a settled -Eastern residence and one befitting a gentleman called to an honor so -unusual. He was made to feel that his new circumstances entailed new -backgrounds socially as well as those that had been accorded him in a -monetary way, and through the Kimberlys, negotiations were speedily -concluded for his acquiring of the Cedar Lodge villa some miles across -the lake from The Towers. - -At the end of a trying two months, the MacBirneys were in their new home -and Alice had begun receiving from her intimates congratulations over -the telephone. Another month, and a busy one, went to finishing -touches. At the end of that period there was apparently more than ever -to be done. It seemed that a beginning had hardly been made, but the -new servants were at home in their duties, and Alice thought she could -set a date for an evening. Her head, night and day, was in more or less -of a whirl. - -The excitement of new fortunes had come very suddenly upon her and with -her husband she walked every day as if borne on the air of waking -dreams. Dolly declared that Alice was working too hard, and that her -weary conferences with decorators and furnishers were too continual. -Occasionally, Dolly took matters into her own hands and was frequently -in consultation on domestic perplexities; sometimes she dragged Alice -abruptly from them. - -Even before it had been generally seen, the new home, once thrown open, -secured Alice's reputation among her friends. What was within it -reflected her taste and discrimination. And her appointments were not -only good, they were distinctive. To be able to drape the vestments of a -house so as to make of it almost at once a home was not a feat to pass -unnoticed among people who studied effects though they did not -invariably secure them. - -Robert Kimberly declared that Alice, under many disadvantages, had -achieved an air of stability and permanence in her home. Dolly told -Lottie Nelson that nothing around the lake among the newer homes -compared with it. Lottie Nelson naturally hated Alice more cordially -than ever for her success. She ventured, when the new house was being -discussed at a dinner, to say that Mr. MacBirney seemed to have -excellent taste; whereupon Charles Kimberly over a salad bluntly replied -that the time MacBirney had shown his taste was when he chose a wife. -"But," added Charles, reflectively, "perhaps a man doesn't prove his -taste so much in getting a wife as in keeping one. - -"Any man," he continued, "may be lucky enough to get a wife; we see that -every day. But who, save a man of feeling, could keep, well, say -Imogene or Dolly, for instance?" - -Robert agreed that if the MacBirney home showed anything it showed the -touch of an agreeable woman. "Any one," he declared, paraphrasing his -brother, "can buy pretty things, but it takes a clever woman to combine -them." - -One result of the situation was a new cordiality from Lottie Nelson to -the MacBirneys. And since it had become necessary to pay court to them, -Lottie resolved to pay hers to Mr. MacBirney. She was resourceful rather -than deep, and hoped by this to annoy Alice and possibly to stir Robert -Kimberly out of his exasperating indifference. The indifference of a -Kimberly could assume in its proportions the repose of a monument. - -Lottie, too, was a mover in many of the diversions arranged to keep the -lake set amused. But as her efforts did not always tend to make things -easy for Alice, Dolly became active herself in suggesting things. - -One Saturday morning a message came from her, directing Alice to forbid -her husband's going to town, drop everything, provide a lunch and join a -motoring party for the seashore. MacBirney following the lines of -Robert Kimberly's experience with cars had secured at his suggestion, -among others, a foreign car from which things might reasonably be -expected. - -Imogene Kimberly and Charles took Alice with them and Dolly rode with -MacBirney, who had Robert Kimberly with him in the new car to see how it -behaved. Kimberly's own chauffeur drove for them. Doane took Arthur De -Castro and Fritzie Venable. The servants and the lunch followed with a -De Castro chauffeur. - -As the party climbed toward Sea Ridge a shower drove them into the -grounds of a country club. While it rained, the women, their long veils -thrown back, walked through the club house, and the men paced about, -smoking. - -Alice, seated at a table on the veranda, was looking at an illustrated -paper when Robert Kimberly joined her. He told her what extravagant -stories he had heard from Dolly about the success of her new home. She -laughed over his sister's enthusiasm, admitted her own, and confessed at -length how the effort to get satisfactory effects had tired her. He in -turn described to her what he had once been through in starting a new -refinery and how during the strain of six weeks the hair upon his -temples had perceptibly whitened, turning brown again when the mental -pressure was relieved. - -"I never heard of such a thing," exclaimed Alice. - -"I don't know how unusual it is, but it has happened more than once in -our family. I remember my mother's hair once turned in that way. But -my mother had much sadness in her life." - -"Mrs. De Castro often speaks of your mother." - -"She was a brave woman. You have never seen her portrait? Sometime at -The Towers you must. And you can see on her temples just what I speak -of. But your home-making will have just the opposite effect on you. If -care makes the hair white, happiness ought to make it browner than -ever." - -"I suppose happiness is wholly a matter of illusion." - -"I don't see that it makes much difference how we define it; the thing -is to be happy. However, if what you say is so, you should cling to -your illusions. Get all you can--I should--and keep all you can get." - -"You don't mean to say you practise that?" - -"Of course I do. And I think for a man I've kept my illusions very -well." - -"For a _man_!" Alice threw her head back. "That is very comfortable -assurance." - -He looked at her with composure. "What is it you object to in it?" - -"To begin with," demanded Alice, "how can a man have any illusions? He -knows everything from the very beginning." - -"Oh, by no means. Far from it, I assure you." - -"He has every chance to. It is only the poor women who are constantly -disillusionized in life." - -"You mustn't be disillusionized, Mrs. MacBirney. Hope unceasingly." - -She resented the personal application. "I am not speaking of myself." - -"Nor am I speaking of you, only speaking through you to womankind. You -'poor women' should not be discouraged." He raised his head as if he -were very confident. "If we can hope, you can hope. I hope every day. -I hope in a woman." - -She bore his gaze as she had already borne it once or twice before, -steadily, but as one might bear the gaze of a dangerous creature, if -strengthened by the certainty of iron bars before its impassive eyes. -Kimberly was both too considerate and possessed too much sense of -fitness to overdo the moment. With his hand he indicated a woman -walking along a covered way in front of them. "There, for instance, goes -a woman," he continued, following up his point. "Look at her. Isn't -she pretty? I like her walk. And a woman's walk! It is impossible to -say how much depends on the walk. And all women that walk well have -good feet; their heels set right and there is a pleasure in watching -each sure foot-fall. Notice, for instance, that woman's feet; her walk -is perfect." - -"How closely observant!" - -"She is well gowned--but everybody is well gowned. And her figure is -good. Let us say, I hope in her, hope she will be all she looks. I -follow the dream. In a breath, an instant, a twinkling, the illusion -has vanished! She has spoken, or she has looked my way and I have seen -her face. But even then the face is only the dial of the watch; it may -be very fair. Sometime I see her mind--and everything is gone!" - -"Would it be impertinent to ask who has put women up in this way to be -inspected and criticised?" retorted Alice. - -"Not in the least. I am speaking only in illustration and if you are -annoyed with me I shall miss making my point. Do I give up merely -because I have lost an illusion? Not at all. Another springs up at -once, and I welcome it. Let us live in our illusions; every time we -part with one and find none to take its place we are poorer, Mrs. -MacBirney, believe me." - -"Just the same, I think you are horridly critical of women." - -"Then you should advise me to cultivate my illusions in their -direction." - -"I should if I thought it were necessary. As I have a very high opinion -of women, I don't think any illusions concerning them are necessary." - -"Loftily said. And I sha'n't allow you to think my own opinion any less -high. When I was a boy, women were all angels to me; they are not quite -that, we know." - -"In spite of illusions." - -"But I don't want to put them very much lower than the angels--and I -don't. I keep them up because I like to." - -Her comment was still keen. "Not because they deserve it." - -"I won't quarrel with you--because, then, they do deserve it. It is -pleasant to be set right." - -The shower had passed and the party was making ready to start. Alice -rose. "You haven't said what you think of your own kind, as you call -them--menkind." - -Kimberly held her coat for her to slip into. "Of course, I try not to -think of them." - -When they reached the summit dividing the lake country from the sea the -sun was shining. To the east, the sound lay at their feet. In the west -stretched the heavy forests and the long chain of lakes. They followed -the road to the sea and after their shore luncheon relaxed for an hour -at the yacht club. Driving back by the river road they put the new car -through some paces, and halting at intervals to interchange passengers, -they proceeded homeward. - -Going through Sunbury at five o'clock the cars separated. MacBirney, -with whom Robert Kimberly was again riding, had taken in Fritzie Venable -and Alice. Leaving the village they chose the hill road around the -lake. Brice, Kimberly's chauffeur, took advantage of the long, straight -highway leading to it to let the car out a little. They were running -very fast when he noticed the sparker was binding and stopped for a -moment. It was just below the Roger Morgan place and Kimberly, who could -never for a moment abide idleness, suggested that they alight while -Brice worked. He stood at the door of the tonneau and gave his hand to -Alice as she stepped from the car. In getting out, her foot slipped and -she turned her ankle. She would have fallen but that Kimberly caught -her. Alice recovered herself immediately, yet not without an instant's -dependence on him that she would rather have escaped. - -Brice was slow in correcting the mechanical difficulty, and finding it -at last in the magneto announced it would make a delay of twenty -minutes. Fritzie suggested that they walk through her park and meet the -car at the lower end. MacBirney started up one of the hill paths with -Alice, Kimberly and Fritzie following. They passed Morgan house and -higher in the hills they reached the chapel. Alice took her husband in -to see the beauty of the interior. She told him Dolly's story of the -building and when Fritzie and Kimberly joined them, Alice was regretting -that Dolly had failed to recollect the name of the church in Rome it was -modelled after. Kimberly came to her aid. "Santa Maria in Cosmedin, I -think." - -"Oh, do you remember? Thank you," exclaimed Alice. "Isn't it all -beautiful, Walter? And those old pulpits--I'm in love with them!" - -MacBirney pronounced everything admirable and prepared to move on. He -walked toward the door with Fritzie. - -Alice, with Kimberly, stood before the chancel looking at the -balustrade. She stopped near the north ambone, and turning saw in the -soft light of the aisle the face of the boy dreaming in the silence of -the bronze. - -Below it, measured words of Keats were dimly visible. Alice repeated -them half aloud. "What a strange inscription," she murmured almost to -herself. - -Kimberly stood at her elbow. "It is strange." - -She was silent for a moment. "I think it is the most beautiful head of -a boy I have ever seen." - -"Have you seen it before?" - -"I was here once with Mrs. De Castro." - -"She told you the story?" - -"No, we remained only a moment." Alice read aloud the words raised in -the bronze: "'Robert Ten Broeck Morgan: ætat: 20.'" - -"Should you like to hear it?" - -"Very much." - -"His father married my half-sister--Bertha; Charles and I are sons of my -father's second marriage. 'Tennie' was Bertha's son--strangely shy and -sensitive from his childhood, even morbidly sensitive. I do not mean -unbalanced in any way----" - -"I understand." - -"A sister of his, Marie, became engaged to a young man of a Southern -family who came here after the war. They were married and their wedding -was made the occasion of a great family affair for the Morgans, and -Alices and Legares and Kimberlys. Tennie was chosen for groomsman. The -house that you have seen below was filled with wedding guests. The hour -came." - -"And such a place for a wedding!" exclaimed Alice. - -"But instead of the bridal procession that the guests were looking for, -a clergyman came down the stairs with a white face. When he could -speak, he announced as well as he could that the wedding would not take -place that night; that a terrible accident had occurred, and that Tennie -Morgan was lying upstairs dead." - -Alice could not recall, even afterward, that Kimberly appeared under a -strain; but she noticed as she listened that he spoke with a care not -quite natural. - -"You may imagine the scene," he continued. "But the worst was to -come----" - -"Oh, you were there?" - -"When you hear the rest you will think, if there is a God, I should have -been, for I might have saved him. I was in Honolulu. I did not even -hear of it for ten days. They found him in his bathroom where he had -dressed, thrown himself on a couch, and shot himself." - -"How terrible!" - -"In his bedroom they found a letter. It had been sent to him within the -hour by a party of blackmailers, pressing a charge--of which he was -quite innocent--on the part of a designing woman, and threatening that -unless he complied with some impossible demands, his exposure and news -of an action for damages should follow in the papers containing the -account of his sister's wedding. They found with this his own letter to -his mother. He assured her the charge was utterly false, but being a -Kimberly he knew he should not be believed because of the reputation of -his uncles, one of whom he named, and after whom he himself was named, -and to whom he had always been closest. This, he feared, would condemn -him no matter how innocent he might be; he felt he should be unable to -lift from his name a disgrace that would always be recalled with his -sister's wedding; and that if he gave up his life he knew the charges -would be dropped because he was absolutely innocent. And so he died." - -For a moment Alice stood in silence. "Poor, poor boy!" she said softly. -"How I pity him!" - -"Do you so? Then well may I. For I am the uncle whom he named in his -letter." - -Unable or unwilling to speak she pointed to the tablet as if to say: -"You said the uncle he was named after." - -He understood. "Yes," he answered slowly, "my name is Robert Ten Broeck -Kimberly." - -Her eyes fell to the tessellated pavement. "It is frightfully sad," she -said haltingly. Then as if she must add something: "I am very sorry you -felt compelled to recall so painful a story." - -"It isn't exactly that I felt compelled; yet perhaps that expresses it, -too. I have expected sometime to tell it to you." - - - - - CHAPTER XIII - - -The showers returned in the night. They kept Alice company during -several sleepless hours. In the morning the sun was out. It was Sunday -and when Annie brought her mistress her rolls and chocolate Alice asked -the maid if she had been to church. - -"Kate and I went to early church," said Annie. - -"And what time is late church, Annie?" - -"Ten thirty, Mrs. MacBirney." - -"I am going myself this morning." - -"And what will you wear?" - -"Anything that is cool." - -Alice was thinking less of what she should wear than of how she should -tell her husband that she had resolved upon going to church. Painful -experience had taught her what ridicule and resource of conjugal -meanness to expect whenever she found courage to say she meant to go to -church. Yet hope, consoling phantom, always suggested that her husband -the next time might prove more amenable to reason. - -When at last she managed casually to mention her momentous resolve, -MacBirney showed that he had lost none of his alertness on the subject. -He made use first of surprise to express his annoyance. "To church?" -Then he gave vent to a contemptuous exclamation uttered with a semblance -of good-natured indifference. "I thought you had got that notion pretty -well out of your head, Alice." - -"You have got it pretty well out for me, Walter. Sometimes it comes -back. It came this morning--after a wakeful night. I haven't been for -a long time." - -"What church do you want to go to?" - -His disingenuousness did not stir her. "To my own, of course. There is -a little church in the village, you know." - -"Oh, that frame affair, yes. Awfully cheap looking, isn't it? And it -threatens rain again. Don't mind getting wet?" - -"Oh, no, I'll take the victoria." - -"You can't; Peters is going to drive me over to The Towers." - -"Then give me one of the cars." - -"I understand they are both out of order." - -"Oh, Walter! Can't you have Peters drive you to The Towers after he -takes me to Sunbury?" - -"I have an engagement with Robert Kimberly at eleven o'clock." - -"Could you change it a little, do you think, Walter?" - -"An engagement with Robert Kimberly!" - -"Or be just a little late for it?" - -MacBirney used his opportunity to advantage. "Keep _him_ waiting! -Alice, when you get an idea into your head about going to church you -lose your common-sense." - -She turned to the window to look at the sky. "I can't walk," she said -hopelessly. Her husband made no comment. As her eyes turned toward the -distant Towers she remembered that Robert Kimberly the evening before -had asked--and so insistently that it had been one of the causes of her -wakefulness--for permission to bring over in the morning some grapes -from his hot-houses. He had wanted to come at eleven o'clock and she -had assured him she should not be at home--this because, during some -uneasy moments when they were close together in the car, she had -resolved that the next morning she should seek if only for an hour an -influence long neglected but quite removed from his. It was clear to -her as she now stood at the window, that Kimberly had sought every -chance to be at her personal service at eleven o'clock, even though her -husband professed an engagement with him. - -"Couldn't Peters," she asked, turning again to MacBirney, "drive me down -half an hour earlier--before you go? I can wait at the church till he -comes back after me?" - -MacBirney was reading the stock-market reports in the morning paper. -"All right," he said curtly. - -She was contained this time. There had been occasions when scenes such -as this had brought hot tears, but five years of steady battering had -fairly subdued Alice. - -At high mass, an hour later, villagers saw a fine lady--a Second Lake -lady, they shrewdly fancied from the carriage that brought her--kneeling -among them in a pew close to the altar, and quite oblivious of those -about her, kneeling, too, at times when they stood or sat; kneeling -often with her face--which they thought pretty--hidden in her hands as -if it somehow had offended; kneeling from the credo until the stragglers -in the vestibule and about the church door began to slip away from the -last gospel. There was an unusual stir about the church because it was -a confirmation Sunday and an archbishop, a white-haired man who had once -been in charge of the little Sunbury parish himself, was present. - -Alice followed the last of the congregation out of the door and into the -village sunshine. She looked up and down the country road for her -horses but none were in sight. Below the church where the farmers' rigs -stood, a big motor-car watched by village boys was waiting. They knew -that the car, with its black and olive trimmings, was from The Towers -because they were familiar with the livery of the villa grooms. - -Their curiosity was rewarded when they saw the fine lady come out of the -church. The instant she appeared a great gentleman stepped from the -black tonneau and, lifting his hat very high, hastened across the muddy -road to greet her--certainly she made a picture as she stood on the -church steps in her tan pongee gown with her brown hair curling under a -rose-wreathed Leghorn hat. - -Her heart gave a frightened jump when she saw who was coming. But when -the gentleman spoke, his voice was so quiet that even those loitering -near could not hear his words. There was some discussion between the -two. His slight gestures as they talked, seemed to indicate something -of explanation and something of defence. Then a suggestion of urgency -appeared in his manner. The fine lady resisted. - -From under her pongee parasol she looked longingly up the road and down -for her horses, but for a while no horses came. At last a carriage -looking like her own did come down the lake road and she hoped for a -moment. Then as the carriage drove rapidly past her face fell. - -The great gentleman indicated his annoyance at the insolent mud that -spattered from the carriage wheel by a look, but he kept quite near to -the fine lady and his eyes fell very kindly on her pink cheeks. Her -carriage did not come even after they had gone to his car and seated -themselves in the tonneau to await it. He was too clever to hurry her. -He allowed her to wait until she saw her case was quite hopeless, then -she told him he might drive her home. - -"I came," he explained, answering an annoyed note in a second question -that she asked, "because I understood you were going to church----" - -"But I did not say I was." - -"I must have dreamed it." - -Brice, sitting at the wheel in front of them, smiled--but only within -his heart--when this came to his ears; because it was Brice who had been -asked during the morning where Mrs. MacBirney was and Brice who had -reported. He was senior to Peters, senior to all the Second Lake -coachmen and chauffeurs, and usually found out whatever he wanted to -find out. - -"At any rate," Kimberly laughed good-naturedly, "I have been waiting -here half an hour for you." - -Brice knew that this was true to the minute, for in that half-hour there -had been many glances at two good watches and a hamper of hot-house -grapes. Brice himself, since a certain missed train, involving language -that lingered yet in his ears, carried a good watch. - -But to-day not even amiable profanity, which Brice recalled as normal -during extended waits, had accompanied the unusual detention. No -messenger had been despatched to sound the young village priest with a -view of expediting the mass and the fine lady had been in nowise -interrupted during her lengthened devotions. Kimberly, in this -instance, had truthfully been a model of patience. - -"These are the grapes," Brice heard behind him, as he let the machine -out a bit and fancied the top of the hamper being raised. "Aren't they -exceptional? I found the vines in Algeria. There are lilies on this -side." - -An expression of involuntary admiration came from the tonneau. -"Assumption lilies! For your sister?" - -"No, for you. They are to celebrate the feast." - -"The feast? Why, of course!" Then came a categorical question, -animated but delivered with keenness: "How did you know that to-day is -the feast of the Assumption?" - -A bland evasion followed. "I supposed that every one knew the fifteenth -of August is the feast of the Assumption. Taste this grape." - -"I am very sure _you_ didn't know." - -"But I _did_. Taste the grape." - -"Who told you?" - -"Whence have you the faculties of the Inquisition? Why do you rack me -with questions?" - -"I begin to suspect, Mr. Kimberly, that you belong on the rack." - -"No doubt. At least I have spent most of my life there." - -"Come, please! Who told you?" - -"Francis, of course; now will you taste this grape?" - - - - - CHAPTER XIV - - -When MacBirney reached home with the victoria Alice had not yet taken -off her hat, and a maid was bringing vases for the lilies. He had been -driving toward Sea Ridge and taken the wrong road and was sorry for his -delay in getting to the church. Alice accepted his excuses in good -part. He tried to explain his misunderstanding about the engagement -with Kimberly. She relieved his endeavors by making everything easy, -telling him finally how Kimberly had brought her home and had left the -grapes and lilies. When the two sat down at luncheon, MacBirney noticed -Alice's preoccupation; she admitted she had a slight headache. She was -glad, however, to have him ask her to go for a long motor drive in the -afternoon, thinking the air would do her good, and they spent three -hours together. - -When they got home it was dusk. The dinner served on the porch was -satisfying and the day which had opened with so little of promise seemed -to do better at the close. Indeed, Alice all day had sought quiet -because she had something to say which she was resolved to say this day. -After dinner she remained with her husband in the moonlight. He was -talking, over his cigar, of an idea for adding a strip of woodland to -the lower end of their new estate, when she interrupted him. - -"Should you be greatly shocked, Walter, if I said I wish we could go -away from here?" She was leaning toward him on the arm of her chair -when she spoke and her hands were clasped. - -His astonishment was genuine. "What do you mean?" - -"I don't know. Yet I feel as if we ought to go, Walter." - -"What for?" - -She was looking earnestly at him, but in the shadow he could not see, -though he felt, her eyes. - -"It is hard to explain." She paused a moment. "These people are -delightful; you know I like them as much as you do." - -MacBirney took his cigar from his mouth to express his surprise. "I -thought you were crazy about the place and the people and everything -else," he exclaimed. "I thought this was just what you were looking -for! You've said so much about refined luxury and lovely manners----" - -"I am thinking of all that." There was enough in her tone of an -intention to be heard to cause him to forget his favorite expedient of -drowning the subject in a flood of words. "But with all this, or to -enjoy it all, one needs peace of mind, and my peace of mind is becoming -disturbed." - -Quite misunderstanding her, MacBirney thought she referred to the -question of church-going, and that subject offered so much delicate -ground that Alice continued without molestation. - -"It is very hard to say what I meant to say, without saying too little -or too much. You know, Walter, you were worried at one time about how -Mr. Robert Kimberly would look at your proposals, and you told me you -wanted me to be agreeable to him. And without treating him differently -from any one else here, I have tried to pay particular regard to what he -had to say and everything of that kind. It is awfully hard to specify," -she hesitated in perplexity. "I am sure I haven't discriminated him in -any way from his brother, or Mr. De Castro, for instance. But I have -always shown an interest in things he had to point out, and he seemed to -enjoy--perhaps more than the others--pointing things out. And----" - -"Well?" - -"It seems to me now as if he has begun to take an interest in everything -_I_ do----" - -Her husband became jocular. "Oh, has he?" - -Alice's words came at last bluntly. "And it completely upsets me, -Walter." - -MacBirney laughed again. "Why so?" - -She took refuge in a shade of annoyance. "Because I don't like to think -about it." - -"Think about what?" - -"About any man's--if I must say it--paying attention to me, except my -husband." - -"Now you are hitting me, aren't you, Alice? You are pretty clever, after -all," declared MacBirney still laughing. - -She threw herself back in her chair. "Oh, Walter, you don't understand -at all! Nothing could be further from what I am thinking. I ought not -to say he has been attentive enough to speak of. It is not that I -dislike Mr. Kimberly. But he does somehow make me uncomfortable. Perhaps -I don't understand their way here." - -"Why, that is all there is to it, Alice. It's merely their way. Give -it no thought. He is simply being agreeable. Don't imagine that every -man that sends you flowers is interested in you. Is that all, Allie?" - -"Yes." Her acuteness divined about what he would reply. "And," she -added, "I think, however foolish it may sound, it is enough." - -"Don't worry about bridges you will never have to cross. That's the -motto I've followed." - -"Yes, I know, but----" - -"Just a moment. All you have to do is to treat everybody alike." - -"But, Walter----" - -"You would have to do that anywhere--shouldn't you? Of course. Suppose -we should go somewhere else and find a man that threatened to become an -admirer----" - -"Don't use such a word!" - -"Call it what you please--we can't keep moving away from that kind of a -possibility, can we?" - -"Still, Walter, I feel as if we might get away from here. I have merely -told you exactly what I thought." - -"We can't get away. This is where everything is done in the sugar -business. This is the little world where the big moves are decided -upon. If you are not here, you are not in it. We are in the swim now; -it took long enough to get in it, God knows. Now let us stay. You can -take care of yourself, can't you?" - -"How can you ask me!" - -He pursued her with a touch of harshness. "How can I ask you? Aren't -you talking about running away from a situation? _I_ don't run away -from situations. I call the man or woman that runs away from a -situation, a coward. Face it down, work it out--don't dodge it." - -MacBirney finished without interruption. - -In the living room the telephone bell rang. He went in to answer it and -his wife heard him a moment in conversation. Then on the garage wire he -called up the chauffeur and ordered a car. Coming out again on the porch -he explained: "Lottie wants us to come over." - -"Lottie?" There was a shade of resentment, almost of contempt, in -Alice's echo and inquiry. - -"Lottie Nelson." - -"Don't call her Lottie, Walter." - -"She calls me Walter." - -"She has no business to. What did you tell her? Don't let us go out -to-night." - -"It is a little celebration of some kind and I told her we would come." - -"My head has ached all day." - -"It will do your head good. Come on. I told her we were coming." - - - - - CHAPTER XV - - -They found a lively party at the Nelsons'. Guyot was there, with -Lambert, thick-lipped and voluble. Dora Morgan with Doane and Cready -Hamilton had come, worn and bedraggled, from a New England motoring -trip. Dora, still quite hoarse, was singing a music-hall song when the -MacBirneys entered the room. - -She stopped. "My ears are crazy to-night--I can't sing," she -complained, responding to Alice's greeting. "I feel as if there were a -motor in my head. Tired? Oh, no, not a bit. But the dust!" Her smile -died and her brows rose till her pretty eyes shone full. She threw her -expiring energy into two husky words: "_Something_ fierce!" - -Dolly and her husband with Imogene and Charles had responded to Lottie's -invitation, and Robert Kimberly came later with Fritzie Venable. Dolly -greeted Alice with apologies. "I am here," she admitted with untroubled -contempt, "but not present. I wanted to see what Lambert looks like. -We hear so much about his discoveries. Robert doesn't think much of -them." - -Mrs. Nelson, languidly composed, led MacBirney to the men who were in an -alcove off the music room. Near them sat Robert Kimberly talking to -Imogene. Dora could not be coaxed to sing again. But the hostess meant -to force the fighting for a good time. Dora joined the men and Guyot, -under Nelson's wing, came over to meet Alice, who had taken refuge with -Dolly. At a time when the groups were changing, Nelson brought Lambert -over. But neither Alice nor Dolly made objection when his host took him -away again. - -Kimberly came after a while with Fritzie to Alice's divan and, standing -behind it, tried by conversation and such attraction of manner as he -could offer, to interest Alice. He failed to waken any response. She -quite understood a woman's refuge from what she wishes to avoid and -persevered in being indifferent to every effort. - -Kimberly, not slow to perceive, left presently for the party in the -dining-room. But even as he walked away, Alice's attitude toward him -called to her mind a saying of Fritzie's, that it is not pleasant to be -unpleasant to pleasant people, even if it is unpleasant to be pleasant -to unpleasant people. - -"Were you tired after yesterday's ride?" asked Dolly of Alice. - -"Not too tired." - -"Robert told you about Tennie Morgan's death." - -Alice looked at her inquiringly. "How did you know?" - -"You were in the Morgan chapel together. And you looked upset when you -came back. I had promised to tell you the story sometime myself. I -know how easy it is to get a false impression concerning family -skeletons. So I asked Robert about it the minute you left the car, and -I was annoyed beyond everything when he said he had told you the whole -story." - -"But dear Mrs. De Castro! Why should you be annoyed?" - -Dolly answered with decision: "Robert has no business ever to speak of -the affair." Alice could not dispute her and Dolly went on: "I know -just how he would talk about it. Not that I know what he said to you. -But it would be like him to take very much more of the blame on himself -than belongs to him. Men, my dear, look at these things differently -from women, and usually make less of them than women do. In this case -it is exactly the reverse. Robert has always had an exaggerated idea of -his responsibility in the tragedy--that is why it annoys me ever to have -him speak about it. I know my brother better, I think, than anybody -alive knows him, and I am perfectly familiar with all the circumstances. -I know what I am talking about." - -Very much in earnest Dolly settled back. "To begin with, Tennie was an -abnormal boy. He was as delicate in his mental texture as cobweb lace. -His sensitiveness was something incredible and twenty things might have -happened to upset his mental balance. No one, my dear, likes to talk -state secrets." - -"Pray do not, then. It really is not necessary," pleaded Alice. - -"Oh, it is," said Dolly decidedly, "I want you to understand. Suicide -has been a spectre to the Kimberlys for ages. Two generations ago -Schuyler Kimberly committed suicide at sixty-six--think of it! Oh! I -could tell you stories. There has been no suicide in this generation. -But the shadow," Dolly's tones were calm but inflected with a burden of -what cannot be helped may as well be admitted, "seems only to have -passed it to fall upon the next in poor Tennie. Two years afterward -they found his mother dead one morning in bed. I don't know what the -trouble was--it was in Florence. Nobody knows--there was just a little -white froth on her lips. The doctors said heart disease. She was a -strange woman, Bertha, strong-willed and self-indulgent--like all the -rest of us." - -"Don't say that of yourself. You are not self-indulgent, you are -generous." - -"I am both, dear. But I know the Kimberlys, men and women, first and -last, and that is why I do not want you to get wrong impressions of -them. My brother Robert isn't a saint, neither is Charles. But compare -them with the average men of their own family; compare them with the -average men in their own situation in life; compare them with the -Nelsons and the Doanes; compare them with that old man that Robert is so -patient with! Compare them, my dear, to the men everywhere in the world -they move in--I don't think the Kimberly men of this generation need -apologize particularly. - -"Robert was so completely stunned by Tennie's death that for years I did -not know what would happen. Then a great industrial crisis came in our -affairs, though afterward it seemed, in a way, providential. Poor old -Uncle John got it into his head he could make sugar out of corn and -ended by nearly ruining us all. If things had gone on we should all -have been living in apartments within another year. When we were so -deep in the thing that the end was in sight we went to Robert on our -knees, and begged him to take hold of the business and save the -family--oh, it had come quite to that. He had been doing absolutely -nothing for a year and I feared all sorts of things about him. But he -listened and _did_ take hold and made the business so big--well, dear -heart, you have some idea what it is now when they can take over a lot -of factories, such as those of your husband and his associates, on one -year's profits. I suppose, of course, these are state secrets--you -mustn't repeat them----" - -"Certainly not." - -"And for years they have been the largest lenders of ready money in the -Street. So you can't wonder that we think a great deal of Robert. And -he likes you--I can see that. He has been more natural since you came -here than for years." - -"Surely your brothers never can say they have not a devoted sister." - -"I can't account for it," persisted Dolly, continuing. "It is just that -your influence is a good one on him; no one can explain those things. I -thought for years he would never be influenced by any woman again. -You've seen how this one," Dolly tossed her head in disgust as she -indicated Lottie Nelson, then passing, "throws herself at him." With -the last words Dolly rose to say she was going home. Imogene was ready -to join her, and Lottie's protests were of no avail. Charles was -upstairs conferring with Nelson and Imogene went up to get him. - -Alice walked to the dining-room. Her husband, in an uncommonly -good-humor, was drinking with their hostess. In the centre of the room, -Hamilton, Guyot, Lambert, and Dora Morgan sat at the large table. Guyot -offered Alice a chair. She sat down and found him entertaining. He took -her after a time into the reception room where Lottie had hung a Degas -that Guyot had brought over for her. Alice admired the fascinating -swiftness and sureness of touch but did not agree with Guyot that the -charm was due to the merit of color over line. When the two returned to -the dining-room, Kimberly stood at a cellaret with Fritzie. - -Lottie and MacBirney sat with the group at the big table. "Oh, Robert," -Lottie called to Kimberly as Alice appeared in the doorway, "mix me a -cocktail." - -Turning, Kimberly saw Alice: "I am out of practice, Lottie," he said. - -"Give me some plain whiskey then." - -Kimberly's shortness of manner indicated his annoyance. "You have that -at your hand," he said sitting down. - -"How rude, Robert," retorted Lottie, with assumed impatience. She -glanced loftily around. "Walter," she exclaimed, looking across the -table at Alice's husband and taking Alice's breath away with the appeal, -"give me some whiskey." - -"Certainly, Mrs. Nelson." - -"No, stop; mix me a cocktail." - -"Is your husband an expert, Mrs. MacBirney?" asked Guyot as MacBirney -rose. - -"Not to my knowledge," answered Alice frankly. "I hope," she added, with -a touch of asperity as her husband stepped to a sideboard, "that Mrs. -Nelson is not fastidious." - -"It is disgusting the way my friends are behaving," complained Lottie -turning to Lambert. "This is my birthday----" - -"Your birthday!" - -"That is why you are all here. And whoever refuses now to drink my -health I cast off forever." - -"Is this a regular birthday or are you springing an extra on us?" -demanded Fritzie. - -"Go on, MacBirney, with your mixture," exclaimed Lambert, "I'll serve at -the table. You are going to join us, of course, Mrs. MacBirney?" - -Alice answered in trepidation: "It must be something very light for me." - -"Try whiskey, Mrs. MacBirney," suggested Dora Morgan benevolently, "it -is really the easiest of all." - -Alice grew nervous. Kimberly, without speaking, pushed a half-filled -glass toward her. She looked at him in distress. "That will not hurt -you," he said curtly. - -The men were talking Belgian politics. Lambert was explaining the -antiquated customs of the reactionaries and the battle of the liberals -for the laicizing of education. He dwelt on the stubbornness of the -clericals and the difficulties met with in modernizing their following. - -Kimberly either through natural dislike for Lambert or mere stubbornness -objected to the specific instances of mediævalism adduced and soon had -the energetic chemist nettled. "What do you know about the subject?" -demanded Lambert at length. "Are you a Catholic?" - -"I am not a Catholic," returned Kimberly amiably. "I am as far as -possible, I suppose, from being one. The doors of the church are wide, -but if we can believe even a small part of what is printed of us they -would have to be broadened materially to take in American refiners." - -"If you are not a Catholic, what are you?" persisted Lambert with heat. - -"I have one serious religious conviction; that is, that there are just -two perfectly managed human institutions; one, the Standard Oil Company, -the other the Catholic Church." - -There was now a chance to drop the controversy and the women together -tried to effect a diversion. But Lambert's lips parted over his white -teeth in a smile. "I have noticed sometimes that what we know least -about we talk best about." Kimberly stirred languidly. "I was born of -Catholic parents," continued Lambert, "baptized in the Catholic Church, -educated in it. I should know something about it, shouldn't I? You, Mr. -Kimberly, must admit you know nothing about it." Kimberly snorted a -little. "All the same, I take priests' fables for what they are worth," -added Lambert; "such, for example, as the Resurrection of Christ." -Lambert laughed heartily. Fritzie looked uneasily at Alice as the words -fell. Her cheeks were crimsoned. - -"Can a central fact of Christianity such as the Resurrection fairly be -called a priests' fable?" asked Kimberly. - -"Why not?" demanded Lambert with contemptuous brevity. "None but -fossilized Catholics believe such nonsense!" - -"There are still some Protestants left," suggested Kimberly mildly. - -"No priest dictates to me," continued the chemist, aroused. "No -superstition for me. I want Catholics educated, enlightened, made free. -I should know something about the church, should I not? You admit you -know nothing----" - -"No, I did not admit that," returned Kimberly. "You admitted it for me. -And you asked me a moment ago what I was. Lambert, what are you?" - -"I am a Catholic--not a clerical!" Lambert emphasized the words by -looking from one to another in the circle. Kimberly spread one of his -strong hands on the table. Fritzie watching him shrank back a little. - -"You a Catholic?" Kimberly echoed slowly. "Oh, no; this is a mistake." -His hand closed. "You say you were born a Catholic. And you ridicule -the very corner-stone of your faith. The last time I met you, you were -talking the same sort of stuff. I wonder if you have any idea what it -has cost humanity to give you the faith you sneer at, Lambert? To give -you Catholic parents, men nineteen hundred years ago allowed themselves -to be nailed to crosses and torn by dogs. Boys hardly seven years old -withstood starvation and scourging and boys of fifteen were burned in -pagan amphitheatres that you might be born a Christian; female slaves -were thrown into boiling oil to give you the privilege of faith; -delicate women died in shameful agonies and Roman maidens suffered their -bodies to be torn to pieces with red-hot irons to give you a Christian -mother--and you sit here to-night and ridicule the Resurrection of -Christ! Call yourself liberal, Lambert; call yourself enlightened; call -yourself Modern; but for God's sake don't call yourself a Catholic." - -"Stop a moment!" cried Lambert at white heat. - -Lottie put out her arm. "Don't let's be cross," she said with -deliberate but unmistakable authority. "I hate a row." She turned her -languid eyes on MacBirney. "Walter, what are these people drinking that -makes them act in this way? Do give Mr. Kimberly something else; he -began it." - -Kimberly made no effort to soothe any one's feelings. And when Fritzie -and Alice found an excuse to leave the room he rose and walked leisurely -into the hall after them. - -The three talked a few moments. A sound of hilarity came from the music -room. Alice looked uneasily down the hall. - -"I never knew your husband could sing," said Fritzie. - - - - - CHAPTER XVI - - -It dawned only gradually on Alice that her husband was developing a -surprising tendency. He walked into the life that went on at the Nelson -home as if he had been born to it. From an existence absorbed in the -pursuit of business he gave himself for the moment to one absorbed in -pursuit of the frivolous. Alice wondered how he could find anything in -Lottie Nelson and her following to interest him; but her husband had -offered two or three unpleasant, even distressing, surprises within as -few years and she took this new one with less consternation than if it -had been the first. - -Yet it was impossible not to feel annoyance. Lottie Nelson, in what she -would have termed an innocent way, for she cared nothing for MacBirney, -in effect appropriated him, and Alice began to imagine herself almost -third in the situation. - -Tact served to carry the humiliated wife over some of the more flagrant -breaches of manners that Mrs. Nelson did not hesitate at, if they served -her caprice. MacBirney became "Walter" to her everywhere. She would -call him from the city in the morning or from his bed at night; no hour -was too early to summon him and none too late. The invitations to the -Nelsons' evenings were extended at first both to Alice and to him. Alice -accepted them in the beginning with a hopeless sort of protest, knowing -that her husband would go anyway and persuading herself that it was -better to go with him. If she went, she could not enjoy herself. -Drinking was an essential feature of these occasions and Alice's efforts -to avoid it made her the object of a ridicule on Lottie's part that she -took no pains to conceal. - -It was at these gatherings that Alice began to look with a degree of -hope for a presence she would otherwise rather have avoided. Kimberly -when he came, which was not often, brought to her a sense of relief -because experience had shown that he would seek to shield her from -embarrassment rather than to expose her to it. - -Lottie liked on every occasion to assume to manage Kimberly together -with the other men of her acquaintance. But from being, at first, -complaisant, or at least not unruly, Kimberly developed mulish -tendencies. He would not, in fact, be managed. When Lottie attempted -to force him there were outbreaks. One came about over Alice, she being -a subject on which both were sensitive. - -Alice, seeking once at the De Castros' to escape both the burden of -excusing herself and of drinking with the company, appealed directly to -Kimberly. "Mix me something mild, will you, please, Mr. Kimberly?" - -Kimberly made ready. Lottie flushed with irritation. "Oh, Robert!" -She leaned backward in her chair and spoke softly over her fan. "Mix me -something mild, too, won't you?" - -He ignored Lottie's first request but she was foolish enough to repeat -it. Kimberly checked the seltzer he was pouring long enough to reply to -her: "What do you mean, Lottie? 'Mix you something mild!' You were -drinking raw whiskey at dinner to-night. Can you never understand that -all women haven't the palates of ostriches?" He pushed a glass toward -Alice. "I don't know how it will taste." - -Lottie turned angrily away. - -"Now I have made trouble," said Alice. - -"No," answered Kimberly imperturbably, "Mrs. Nelson made trouble for -herself. I'm sorry to be rude, but she seems lately to enjoy baiting -me." - -Kimberly appeared less and less at the Nelsons' and the coolness between -him and Lottie increased. - -She was too keen not to notice that he never came to her house unless -Alice came and that served to increase her pique. Such revenge as she -could take in making a follower of MacBirney she took. - -Alice chafed under the situation and made every effort to ignore it. -When matters got to a point where they became intolerable she uttered a -protest and what she dreaded followed--an unpleasant scene with her -husband. While she feared that succeeding quarrels of this kind would -end in something terrible, they ended, in matter of fact, very much -alike. People quarrel, as they rejoice or grieve, temperamentally, and -a wife placed as Alice was placed must needs in the end submit or do -worse. MacBirney ridiculed a little, bullied a little, consoled a -little, promised a little, and urged his wife to give up silly, -old-fashioned ideas and "broaden out." - -He told her she must look at manners and customs as other people looked -at them. When Alice protested against Lottie Nelson's calling him early -and late on the telephone and receiving him in her room in the -morning--MacBirney had once indiscreetly admitted that she sometimes did -this--he declared these were no incidents for grievance. If any one -were to complain, Nelson, surely, should be the one. Alice maintained -that it was indecent. Her husband retorted that it was merely her way, -that Lottie often received Robert Kimberly in this way--though this, so -far as Robert was concerned, was a fiction--and that nobody looked at -the custom as Alice did. However, he promised to amend--anything, he -pleaded, but an everlasting row. - -Alice had already begun to hate herself in these futile scenes; to hate -the emotion they cost; to hate her heartaches and helplessness. She -learned to endure more and more before engaging in them, to care less -and less for what her husband said in them, less for what he did after -them, less for trying to come to any sort of an understanding with him. - -In spite of all, however, she was not minded to surrender her husband -willingly to another woman. She even convinced herself that as his wife -she was not lively enough and resolved if he wanted gayety he should -have it at home. The moment she conceived the notion she threw the gage -at Lottie's aggressive head. Dolly De Castro, who saw and understood, -warmly approved. "Consideration and peaceable methods are wasted on -that kind of a woman. Humiliate her, my dear, and she will fawn at your -feet," said Dolly unreservedly. - -Alice was no novice in the art of entertaining; it remained only for her -to turn her capabilities to account. She made herself mistress now of -the telephone appointment, of the motoring lunch, of the dining-room -gayety. Nelson himself complimented her on the success with which she -had stocked her liquor cabinets. - -She conceived an ambition for a wine cellar really worth while and -abandoned it only when Robert Kimberly intimated that in this something -more essential than ample means and the desire to achieve were -necessary. But while gently discouraging her own idea as being -impractical, he begged her at the same time to make use of The Towers' -cellars, which he complained had fallen wholly into disuse; and was -deterred only with the utmost difficulty from sending over with his -baskets of flowers from the gardens of The Towers, baskets of wines that -Nelson and Doane with their trained palates would have stared at if -served by Alice. But MacBirney without these aids was put at the very -front of dinner hosts and his table was given a presage that surprised -him more than any one else. As a consequence, Cedar Lodge invitations -were not declined, unless perhaps at times by Robert Kimberly. - -He became less and less frequently a guest at Alice's entertainments, -and not to be able to count on him as one in her new activities came -after a time as a realization not altogether welcome. His declining, -which at first relieved her fears of seeing him too often, became more -of a vexation than she liked to admit. - -Steadily refusing herself, whenever possible, to go to the Nelsons' she -could hear only through her husband of those who frequented Lottie's -suppers, and of the names MacBirney mentioned none came oftener than -that of Robert Kimberly. Every time she heard it she resented his -preferring another woman's hospitalities, especially those of a woman he -professed not to like. - -Mortifying some of her own pride she even consented to go at times to -the Nelsons' with her husband to meet Kimberly there and rebuke him. -Then, too, she resolved to humiliate herself enough to the hateful woman -who so vexed her to observe just how she made things attractive for her -guests; reasoning that Kimberly found some entertainment at Lottie's -which he missed at Cedar Lodge. - -Being in the fight, one must win and Alice meant to make Lottie Nelson -weary of her warfare. But somehow she could not meet Robert Kimberly at -the Nelsons'. When she went he was never there. Moreover, at those -infrequent intervals in which he came to her own house he seemed ill -entertained. At times she caught his eye when she was in high humor -herself--telling a story or following her guests in their own lively -vein--regarding her in a curious or critical way; and when in this -fashion things were going at their best, Kimberly seemed never quite to -enter into the mirth. - -His indifference annoyed her so that as a guest she would have given him -up. Yet this would involve a social loss not pleasant to face. Her -invitations continued, and his regrets were frequent. Alice concluded -she had in some way displeased him. - - - - - CHAPTER XVII - - -One morning she called up The Towers to ask Kimberly for a dinner. He -answered the telephone himself and wanted to know if he might not be -excused from the dinner and come over, if it were possible, in the -evening. - -Alice had almost expected the refusal. "I wish you would tell me," she -said, laughing low and pleasantly, "what I have done." - -He paused. "What you have done?" - -"What I have done that you avoid coming to Cedar Lodge any more?" - -"I don't, do I?" He waited for an answer but Alice remained silent. -His tone was amiable and his words simple, yet her heart was beating -like a hammer. "You know I haven't gone about much lately," he went on, -"but whenever you really want me for a dinner you have need only to say -so." - -"I never ask a guest for dinner without wanting him." - -It was his turn to laugh. "Do you really manage that, Mrs. MacBirney? -I can't; and yet I think myself fairly independent." - -"Oh, of course, we are all tied more or less, I suppose, but--you know -what I mean." - -"Then you do want me to appear?" - -Alice suddenly found her tongue. "We should never ask any one to whom -Mr. MacBirney and I are under so many obligations as we are to Mr. -Kimberly without 'wanting him,' as you express it. And we really want -you very much to-morrow night." - -He laughed, this time with amusement. "You are rather strong now on -third persons and plurals. But I think I understand that you really do -want me to come." - -"Haven't I just said so?" she asked with good-humored vexation. - -"Not quite, but I shall arrive just the same." - -Alice put up the receiver, agreeably stirred by the little tilt. It was -a lift out of the ruck of uncomfortable thought that went to make up her -daily portion, and the elation remained with her all day. - -She decided that some vague and unwillingly defined apprehensions -concerning Kimberly's feeling toward her were after all foolish. Why -make herself miserable with scruples when she was beset with actual -perplexities at home? Walter himself was now more of what she wanted -him to be. He perceived his wife's success in her active hospitality -and applauded it, and Alice began to feel she could, after all, be safe -in a nearer acquaintance with Kimberly and thus lessen a little Lottie -Nelson's pretensions. - -It is pleasant to a woman to dress with the assurance that anticipates -success. Alice went to her toilet the following afternoon with an -animation that she had not felt for weeks. Every step in it pleased her -and Annie's approbation as she progressed was very gratifying to her -mistress. - -The trifles in finishing were given twice their time, and when Alice -walked into her husband's room he kissed her and held her out at arm's -length in admiration. She hastened away to look at the table and the -stairs rose to meet her feet as she tripped down the padded treads. - -Passing the drawing-room the rustle of her steps caused a man within it -to turn from a picture he was studying, and Alice to her surprise saw -Kimberly standing before a sanguine of herself. She gave a little -exclamation. - -"I asked not to be announced," he explained. "I am early and did not -want to hurry you." He extended his hand. "How are you?" - -"I couldn't imagine who it was, when I looked in," exclaimed Alice -cordially. "I am glad to see you." - -He held out his hand and waited till she gave him hers. "You look -simply stunning," he answered quietly. "There is something," he added -without giving her a chance to speak and turning from the eyes of the -portrait back again to her own, "in your eyes very like and yet unlike -this. I find now something in them more movingly beautiful; perhaps -twenty-five years against eighteen--I don't know--perhaps a trace of -tears." - -"Oh, Mr. Kimberly, spare your extravagances. I hear you have been away." - -"At least, I have never seen you quite so beautiful as you are this -moment." - -"I am not beautiful at all, and I am quite aware of it, Mr. Kimberly." - -"I would not wish you to think anything else. There the beauty of your -character begins." - -Her repugnance was evident but she bore his eyes without flinching. -"You humiliate me exceedingly," was all she attempted to say. - -"The truth should not humiliate you. I----" - -"Must I run away?" - -"Not, I hope, because I tell you you are beautiful, for I shall continue -to tell you so every time I see you." - -"Surely you will not take advantage of your hostess, Mr. Kimberly?" - -"In what way?" he asked. - -"By saying things most unpleasant for her to hear." - -"I say things awkwardly, perhaps unpleasantly, but always sincerely." - -Alice looked down at her fan, but spoke with even more firmness. "If we -are to be good friends, you must excuse me even from sincerity on topics -of this kind." - -"Don't cut me from your friendship. We must be the best of friends. I -cannot conceive of you as being other than kind, even patient with me." - -"Then do not say things I cannot listen to." - -"I will never say anything you may not listen to. But concede me the -privilege--for it is one--of paying honest tribute to your loveliness -when I can't help it." - -Without raising her eyes she spoke with decision. "I positively will not -listen." With the word she caught up her gown and started away. He -walked with her. "I am afraid," he said regretfully, "you are sorry you -sent for me." - -She turned with burning eyes. "You should be the last to make me so, -Mr. Kimberly." - -"I wish to be the last. Yet I hate to sacrifice sincerity." - -"There is something I put far above sincerity." - -He looked mildly surprised. "What can it be?" - -"Consideration for the feelings of another--particularly if she be -somewhat helpless." - -"Just a moment." They were entering the hall and he stopped her. "In -what way are you helpless?" - -"Through consideration on my part for my guest to-night, for my -husband's friend, for a friend to whom we both owe much----" - -"You owe that friend nothing. If you really think so, disabuse your -mind. And I have never professed the slightest friendship for Mr. -MacBirney. Whatever we do, let us keep the facts clear. If we speak of -consideration, what about my feelings? And about helplessness--I am up -against a stone wall all the time in trying to say anything." - -"You have no right to say anything!" exclaimed Alice energetically and -starting on as she spoke. - -"Perhaps that is true. One that can't say things better than I do -shouldn't attempt them. If one of us must be humiliated let it be me. -Where are you taking me?" - -She stopped. "Nowhere at all, Mr. Kimberly. Won't you----" - -"Where are you going?" - -"To look at my table. Mr. MacBirney will be right down. Won't you wait -for him in the library?" - -"No." - -"I should be most grateful." - -"I want to see the table myself." - -Alice tossed her head. "This way then." - -At the threshold of the dining-room, Kimberly paused. The table was -dressed in yellow with the lowest tones in the fruits of the -centrepiece. The pears were russet, the grapes purple, and pomegranates, -apples, and golden plums supplied the tints of autumn. The handles of -the old silver basket were tied with knots of broad, yellow ribbon. -Alice, touching the covers here and there, passed behind the chairs. - -"You get your effects very simply," observed Kimberly. "Only people -with a sure touch can do that." - -"I thought there were to be no more compliments." - -He looked at the sconces. "Just one for the lighting. Even Dolly and -Imogene sin in that way. They overdo it or underdo it, and Mrs. Nelson -is impossible. Where have you put me?" - -She pointed with her fan. "Next to Mrs. Nelson." - -"Next to Mrs. Nelson?" he echoed in surprise. - -"Why not?" - -"Did you say humiliation? Do I deserve so much?" - -"At dinner one tries, of course, to group congenial people," suggested -Alice coldly. - -"But we are not congenial." - -"I supposed you were Mrs. Nelson's most frequent guest." - -"I have not been at Mrs. Nelson's since the evening Guyot and Lambert -were there," said Kimberly. "You, yourself, were there that night." - -Alice betrayed no confusion but she was shocked a little to realize that -she believed him instantly. Kimberly, at least as to truthfulness, had -won her confidence. Her own husband had forfeited it. The difficulty -now, she felt, would be ever to believe him at all. - -"I remember," she assented with returning cordiality. "I was very proud -to listen that night." - -Kimberly stood with his hand on the back of a chair. "Lambert is a -brilliant fellow." - -"Possibly; my sympathies were not with his views. - -"So I sit here?" continued Kimberly patiently. "Who sits next to you?" - -"Your brother." - -Kimberly spoke with resignation. "Charles always had the luck of the -family." - -A door opened and a butler entered the room. On seeing Kimberly he -attempted to withdraw. - -"Come in, Bell," said Alice. "What is it?" - -"The juggler, Mrs. MacBirney; his assistant has telephoned they've -missed their train." - -"Oh, Bell!" exclaimed his mistress in indignant protest. "Don't tell me -that." - -"And it's the last out, till ten-thirty o'clock." - -Alice's face fell. "That ends my evening. Isn't it _too_ exasperating. -Stupid jugglers!" - -Kimberly intervened. "What train did he miss, Bell?" - -"The seven-ten, sir, from town." - -"Why don't you call up the division superintendent and ask his office to -stop the eight-ten?" - -Bell looked at his mistress. "I might do that, sir." - -"Oh, can you?" cried Alice. - -"You ought to have done it without being told, Bell," observed Kimberly. -"You've done such things before." - -"Might I use your name, sir?" - -"Use whatever is necessary to get him. And ask them to hunt up the -juggler in the waiting-room and put him aboard. Who is he?" - -"A China boy, sir, I understand." - -"In that case, they could not miss him." - -The butler left the room. "Do you think they will do it?" asked Alice -anxiously. - -"Don't give it further thought. We could get him out on a special if -necessary." - -Voices came from the front room. Alice started forward. "There are -guests." - -"By-the-way," added Kimberly, pointing to the card on his cover and that -on his brother's, "you don't mind my correcting this mistake, do you?" - -Alice looked very frankly at him, for the success of the dinner was -keenly on her mind. "You will be of more assistance, Mr. Kimberly, if -you will not make any change. Mrs. Nelson and Mrs. Morgan are my -difficulties and I hoped you would solve them for me." - -"By all means." - -Dolly's voice was heard in the hall. "Where are you, Alice? Here are -the McCreas, from town, and Doctor Hamilton." - -They sat down fourteen at the table--the Kimberlys, De Castros, Nelsons, -McCreas, Hamilton, Miss Venable, and Dora Morgan. - -Alice was playing to the enemy and meant to demonstrate to the Nelson -coterie that she needed no assistance from them to establish herself as -a hostess at Second Lake. If she wished, on this occasion, for a great -success it was hers. The dinner was good, and the moment that Nelson -had assured himself of this he began good-naturedly to help things on. - -A remark from some one about the gulf between law and justice gave him a -chance. "Why associate the two at all?" he asked lazily. "Law is -strictly a game of the wits. It is played under the convention of an -appeal to justice, but justice is invoked merely to satisfy the -imagination. If people understood this there would be no complaint -about a gulf between the two. We imagine justice; we get law. -Similarly, we imagine heaven; we get--what we deserve. If the -imagination be satisfied, man will endure the sweat of Sisyphus; most of -us suffer it in this world, anyway. Law and justice are like chemical -incompatibles and there must be a gulf between them. And law is no -better and no worse than other conventions of society. Who that studies -human government in any form has ever been able to regard it otherwise -than with contempt?" - -"Certainly," interposed Fritzie Venable, with formal irony. "No one -that takes care of the Kimberly interests at Washington." - -"The Kimberly interests at Washington," returned Nelson with -complaisance, "are so well behaved that they take care of themselves." - -"Then I don't see what contempt you should have for this government," -retorted Fritzie vigorously. - -"Only that it affords him no adequate exercise for his ingenuity," -suggested Arthur De Castro. - -"I don't care," protested Fritzie; "I am an American and I won't have -our government abused. I believe in sticking to your own." - -"Well, if _we_ haven't stuck to our own, I should like to know who has?" -observed Charles Kimberly benevolently. "We've stuck for fifty years to -our tariff builders, as Mustard would to a stot. MacBirney's farmers are -doing the work for us now," he continued. "Our beet growers guard the -sugar schedule at Washington. These wonderful Western States; lowest in -illiteracy, highest in political sagacity! It is really a shame to take -the money." - -"I don't see how _you_ conscientiously can take it," declared Hamilton, -appealing to Robert Kimberly. - -"I do it by educating my conscience, Doctor," responded Robert Kimberly. -"Every one that takes the trouble to inquire knows I am a free trader. -I abstain from the Reform Club, but that is out of deference to my -partners. I contribute to both campaign funds; to the one for our -shareholders, to the other for my conscience; for as I say, personally I -am a free trader." - -"And a tariff beneficiary," added Arthur De Castro. - -"Why not, Arthur? Wasn't it Disraeli who said sensible men are all of -one religion? He might better have said, sensible men are all of one -politics. It is true, we are tariff beneficiaries, but this country is -doing business under a protective theory. We are engaged, as we were -long before there was a tariff, in what is now a protected industry. We -can't change our business because the government changes its economic -policy. - -"And if anybody _is_ to have protection here, Arthur, why shouldn't we? -Who has a better right to it? Our warrants of occupation were extorted -from the Iroquois. We fought the Indian, we fought the French, we -fought the English----" - -"Was there anybody you didn't fight?" - -"We put up our credit in Paris and Amsterdam for the colonies and for -the Federal Government when the colonies and the Federal Government had -none. Then along comes a little coterie of steel men in our own day," -Kimberly tossed his head with disdainful impatience, "who make the toil -of a hundred years look like a farce--out-Herod Herod in protection and -pile up hundreds of millions while we are up to our armpits in molasses -trying to grind out a mere living. Protection! We don't get half -enough. Who has any better sanction for exercising that airy, invisible -pressure of a tariff tax?" he demanded, lifting a glass of wine to the -light. - -"Picturesque old pirate," murmured Hamilton. - -"And he needs the money," commented De Castro. "Why quarrel with him?" - -"I am sure you will all pledge the sugar business," continued Kimberly, -raising a refilled glass blandly, "and join me in welcoming anybody that -wants to go into it. This is a free country, gentlemen." - -"What do you use on competitors, the rack and dungeon?" - -"Nothing that savors of them." - -"But you take care of competition," persisted Hamilton. - -Kimberly laughed. - -"Certainly we do," interposed McCrea, quickly and frankly. "But without -unnecessary cruelty, as Mr. Robert Kimberly puts it. No man that ever -fought the company and had horse-sense has ever starved to death. We -can use such a man's talents better than he can, and very often he comes -into camp and becomes our teacher; that has happened. Our system of -combination has brought comforts and luxuries into thousands of homes -that never would have known them under the waste of competition. -Hundreds and thousands of men have profited by uniting their efforts -with ours. And no man that wasn't a business lunatic has ever been the -worse for anything we've done." - -"Your husband talks well, Mrs. McCrea," said Robert Kimberly, to a quiet -little woman near him. - -"He has had able teachers," laughed Mrs. McCrea. - -"No, it is because he believes in himself. It's a great thing to be -able to believe in yourself." - -"Don't you?" - -"Far from it." - -"You've made a good many others believe in you." - -"Not always for their own best interests, I'm afraid." - -"Yes, I know," Dolly was saying to those of the women who were listening -to her, "the weight of authority is against me. But I have always held, -and hold yet, that a simple thing, such as lapis-lazuli, is best set in -gold--much better than in silver. Talk with Castellani about it -sometime, or Viola." - -"Yes, and they'll tell you silver, every time," interrupted Fritzie -vigorously. - -Dolly waved her hand as if to dismiss controversy. - -"Gold is so common," objected Lottie Nelson. - -"Not more so than lapis," retorted Dolly. - -"But isn't that the glory of gold," suggested Robert, "that it is -common? It has the seal of approval of mankind; what higher sanction do -you want? You are always safe in resting with that approval. I believe -in common things--pearls for example and rubies. I am just common -enough to like them." - -Bell, passing behind his mistress, spoke in her ear. Alice's face -lighted and she caught Kimberly's eye. "He is here," she nodded -laughingly across the table. - -The juggler had come and as the dessert was being served he followed a -butler into the room in his native robes and assumed his place as one of -Bell's assistants. The Chinaman was handsome and of great size and -strength. Alice only hinted to her guests what awkwardness might be -looked for from the new footman, and the juggler smiling in Oriental -silence began to cajole the senses of his spectators. - -After he had amused them with trifles he floated a gossamer veil of -yellow silk over a huge glass bowl filled with fruit from a serving -table. With this in his hands he hastened to the fireplace at the end -of the room and turning heaved the bowl swiftly toward the ceiling, -catching it in his arms as it descended filled with quivering goldfish -swimming in water of crystal clearness. - -He took oranges from the side tables and, splitting them, released -song-birds into the air. The guests tossed fruit at him, and from -apples and pomegranates he cut favors for them--jewelled stick-pins, -belt agraffes and Florentine bonbonières. When the evening was over -Alice thanked her guests for their compliments. Lottie Nelson's words -in particular left a flush of triumph in Alice's cheeks and she looked -so happy that Kimberly paused before he spoke. - -"Well?" said Alice questioningly. And then: "If you have had a good -time, don't be afraid to say so." - -He looked at her as if pleased at her fervor. "Are you a little bit -sorry?" he asked quizzically. - -Her brows rose with a pretty assumption of ignorance. "I have nothing -to be sorry for." - -"Then I suppose I must have." - -She dropped her eyes for a moment to her sandalwood fan. "Of course, -you will decide that." - -"I presume," he continued, taking the fan without apology from her -hands, "I may come over when you are not at home and look at your -portrait?" - -"I am sure you don't realize how silly that sounds. I hear you have a -new picture," she added, looking up. - -"It is to be hung next week. MacBirney is to bring you over to see it. -Are you sorry I came?" - -"Oh, is _that_ what you meant? Why, such a question! You saved my -evening." - -"But are you sorry?" - -"I shouldn't say so if I were, should I?" - -"No, but answer, anyway." - -Her expression of vexation was pleasing. "How obstinate! No, then. -And you saved my evening besides." - -"You must take me as I am." - -"You cannot, I know, be less than you should be." - -"How about you?" - -She drew herself up the least bit. "I hope no friend of mine would wish -me anything less." - -"We are both then to be all we should be." - -"Don't you think I am very patient?" she demanded impatiently. - -"You are. We are both to be, aren't we?" - -She did not conceal her annoyance. "I sincerely trust so," she said -coldly. "But there is a limit to all things." - -He held out his hand. "Thank you for a delightful evening." - - - - - CHAPTER XVIII - - -The new picture at The Towers made a topic of interest among Kimberly's -friends, but Alice found excuses for not going to see it until MacBirney -would brook no further delays. They drove over one afternoon and found -Doctor Hamilton and Imogene in the library. Robert Kimberly came -downstairs with Charles and greeted the MacBirneys. Tea was brought -presently and Kimberly asked Alice to pour it. - -"I haven't seen you since your dinner," said he, sitting down after a -time by Alice. "You were indisposed the day I called. Imogene tells me -you intend spending the winter in town." - -"Mr. MacBirney wants to." - -"I hoped you would winter in the country." - -"I like the country, but Mr. MacBirney likes the town. I shall enjoy -it, too. You know we are really country folk and haven't had as much -town life as you have." - -The others started for the east room. "Come," said Dolly, beckoning -Alice, "you want to see the Rubens." - -The new picture was hung as a panel between a smaller Rubens and an -unknown head of the Virgin, in the manner of Botticelli. Kimberly -seated Alice apart from the others and stood behind her. - -"You have been in this room before?" he said questioningly. - -"Once before. It is very much richer now." She indicated the new -picture as she spoke, a large canvas of the Crucifixion. "There are two -titles for it," explained Kimberly, "a Latin and a Dutch. I like the -Dutch best: 'The Ninth Hour.' This picture doesn't appeal so much to my -friends as it has appealed to me. But see what this master magician has -chosen here; the supreme moment of the Crucifixion." - -Those with them were chatting apart. Alice sat in silence while -Kimberly spoke and when he had done they were silent together. "I hope -you are going to like it," he said after a pause. - -MacBirney asked a question, and Kimberly walked to where he was seated. -When he came back he seemed unable to wait longer for Alice's comment. -"What is the verdict?" - -"Nothing I have ever seen of Rubens's leaves me unmoved," she answered. -"This is almost overwhelming, terrible." - -"Mrs. MacBirney likes my 'Crucifixion,' Dolly," observed Kimberly after -another silence. - -"Oh, you needn't quote Alice," exclaimed Dolly from a window seat. "So -do I like it. All I said was, that it is a sin to pay so much for a -picture." - -"No price is too great for a great inspiration. See," he pointed for -Alice to the face of a Roman soldier cowering in the foreground of the -canvas. "There is one man's face. Hamilton has studied a good many -pictures and watched unnumbered faces in every expression of suffering. -He has told me that, so far as he knows pictures, the emotion of fear -has never been depicted on the human countenance except in that face. -As a great surgeon, of a very wide experience, he may be said to know -what fear pictured on a human face should be. And there it is before -us. Conceive what a triumph for that man to have achieved this, so far -from us in the dead centuries, and yet so near to us in this magic of -his skill. Observe what a background he has chosen to depict it -from--Jerusalem, bathed in the uncanny, terrifying light that -accompanies a convulsion of nature. The earth rent, the dead issuing -from their graves, nature prostrate, and everywhere--brooding over -everything, but stamped most of all on this one guilty face--fear. How -it all builds up the agony of that death sweat on the cross! By Heaven, -it is tremendous! And Dolly says it is a sin to spend so much money for -it. Brother Francis doesn't agree with her; I found him in here early -one morning saying his prayers to it." - -"Before it," said Alice instantly. - -"I thought that no mean tribute. Frankly, do you think me extravagant?" - -"Did you really pay the price named in the newspapers?" - -"Even then?" - -"It does take one's breath away--at least, it took mine." - -"I have wanted this picture for years. Hamilton made one trip over with -me to look at it--he told me of it first. Then I had to wait all these -years for the opportunity to acquire it." - -"What patience!" - -His eyes were fixed on the picture. "It must have taken patience to -paint it. But patience gives us everything in this life." Alice was -silent. "You don't agree with me?" - -"How do you know that?" - -"I feel it; the air is thick with your dissent. But, Alice, I am right -and you are wrong." - -Her name coming so suddenly and for the first time from his lips -astonished her. Her heart sent its blood in protest to her very ears. -In a room with other people nothing could be said. But she rose and -turning from Kimberly called to her husband, asking if he were ready. - -"Before you go I have a favor to ask," said Kimberly, intervening, and -Kimberly's petitions had always something of the color of command. "I -told you," he said, speaking to Alice, "of my mother's portrait. It is -upstairs; will you come see it?" - -"I should like very much to see it. Come, Walter," she held out her -hand for her husband. "Mr. Kimberly wants us to see his mother's -portrait." - -Kimberly made no comment, but the manner with which he paused, waiting -for MacBirney to join them, sufficiently indicated that he was conscious -of waiting. When MacBirney noticed his attitude he moved from those he -was with much more quickly than he would have done at his wife's behest. -Dolly came with MacBirney and the four walked upstairs. Kimberly's -rooms opened to the south. There were five in the apartment and while -Kimberly excused himself to take MacBirney in for a moment to speak to -his uncle, Dolly took Alice through Kimberly's suite. - -"These rooms are charming!" exclaimed Alice, when the men came in to -them. "You must see them, Walter. The breakfast room is dear." - -They were standing in the library, which served as a writing room and a -conference room. It was finished in oak and on the east the breakfast -room opened, in white and green. - -Alice took her husband's arm. "See, Walter," she said passing through -the open door; "isn't this darling? These tones must be restful to wake -to!" - -"I had lunch here once," announced MacBirney in his choppy way. "With -you and your brother and McCrea," he added, turning to Kimberly. - -"You never said a word to me about seeing such a pretty place," remarked -his wife. - -"You've been in the west room?" asked Kimberly. - -"Yes, Alice sang for me while you were with Uncle John," responded -Dolly. - -"I thought I heard music," remarked Kimberly, looking at Alice. "What -did you sing?" - -"I only hummed an old air." - -Kimberly tried to get her to go back to the piano but could not. "I -miss music keenly," he said, "I wish I could make a contract with you to -sing here every day." - -Alice laughed. - -"You would be in very good company," interposed Dolly. "Some famous -artistes have sung at that piano. Robert," she added, as the two women -walked toward his dressing-room, "has everything here but what he ought -to have--a wife. When mother lived, The Towers was more than a -habitation--it was a home." - -In his bedroom, Kimberly indicated a portrait above the fireplace. -"This is my mother," he said to Alice. "Sit down for just a moment--I -want you to like her." - -"I like her very much, already," returned Alice. "But I should like to -sit a moment to enjoy the portrait. I wish I could have known your -mother." - -"This room I fancy best of them all," Dolly was saying to MacBirney as -they walked on. "All of this wall panelling and ceiling was made from -one mahogany log brought up from Santo Domingo many years ago with a -cargo of sugar." - -Kimberly, sitting with Alice before his mother's picture, showed a -self-consciousness he did not often betray, a solicitude, seemingly, -that Alice should agree with his own estimate of his mother. "She was -the most tender, kindly woman in the world," he said after a moment. - -"Such a mother ought to be an inspiration to you for everything high and -good, Mr. Kimberly." - -"Yet I have never reached anything high and good." - -"Sometime you will." - -He looked at her curiously. "Do you really think that?" - -"Yes, I do. And thank you for letting me see your mother." - -"If you only could have met her!" There was an intensity of regret in -his words. "It was a tragedy for such a woman to die young. I have -long wanted you to see her portrait; you constantly make me think of -her, Alice." - -She turned calmly and frankly. "It is most kind of you to say that, Mr. -Kimberly. So kind that I am going to be bold enough to ask a favor." - -"I know what you are going to ask, but I wish you wouldn't. I want very -much to do what you are about to ask me not to do----" - -"It is almost nothing--only not to call me Alice." - -"There is no use my asking a favor, is there?" He turned with almost a -boyish humor in his manner. His mother's eyes seemed to look at her in -his eyes as he spoke. - -"Not, Mr. Kimberly, this time. I want you to oblige me." - -"You are afraid of me." There was no resentment in the words; nothing -beyond a regret. - -Her answer was low but neither weak nor confused. "Is it quite generous, -Mr. Kimberly--here?" - -"No," he answered in the same even voice, "it is not. Unhappily, there -are times when generosity is weakness. I've been trying ever since I -have known you to think of you just as I think of myself. I believe I -have tried to give you a little the best of it--yet a selfish man can't -always be sure of doing that." - -"I trust you think of me," she responded, "only as one of the least -important among your friends." - -"You are afraid of me. And yet I want your confidence above everything -in this world--and I must in some way deserve and win it." - -"I do wish you would not say these things. I have to try very hard not -to dislike you exceedingly when you speak in this way." - -"You do dislike me exceedingly when I speak in this way. I know it -perfectly." - -If her voice trembled the least bit it was with indignation. "I -sometimes ask myself whether I should suffer it even for my husband's -sake. You will force me to do something unpleasant, I fear." - -"I never will force you to do anything. I do want to call you Alice. -But don't hate me for that." - -She heard with relief Dolly talking to her husband in the doorway. "It -was almost three years before Imogene saw Charles again," Alice heard -Dolly say, "and, would you believe it, he began exactly where he left -off. After that Imogene decided it was of no use. So, she is Mrs. -Kimberly!" - -"By Jove! He had patience," laughed MacBirney. - -Dolly laughed a little, too. "That is the only exasperating thing about -the Kimberly men--their patience." - - - - - CHAPTER XIX - - -MacBirney's decision to spend the winter in town became very welcome to -Alice; the atmosphere within a wide radius of The Towers seemed too -charged with electricity for mental peace. And her husband, having -tasted for the first time the excitement of the stock markets, desired -to be near his brokers. - -Fritzie, who was an authority in town affairs, made it easy for Alice to -find acceptable quarters. In general the Second Lake people cared less -and less for opening their town houses. Robert Kimberly's house, while -nominally open, never saw its master. Charles and Imogene Kimberly for -several years had spent their winters cruising and now made ready to -take Grace De Castro to the eastern Mediterranean. Arthur and Dolly -were to winter at Biarritz and join Charles and Imogene in Sicily on -their return from the Levant. Fritzie accepted Alice's invitation to -spend the season in town with her. Dora Morgan had already gone to -Paris for an indefinite stay and the Nelsons, Congress being in session, -were starting for Washington. - -MacBirney came over to The Towers just before leaving with Alice for -town to see Robert Kimberly. When Kimberly asked him what was on his -mind, "I would like to know," MacBirney answered frankly, "what I can -make some money in this winter." It was the second time he had brought -the subject up and Kimberly who had once evaded his inquiries saw that -nothing was to be gained by further effort in that direction. - -Kimberly regarded him gravely. "Buy standard railway shares," he -suggested, "on a four-and-a-half-per-cent average." - -"But I want to do better than four-and-a-half-per-cent. It costs -something to live." - -"I mean, you would have your profit in the advances. But your present -income ought to cover a very liberal scale of living," said Kimberly. - -MacBirney squirmed in his chair. Kimberly would have preferred he -should sit still. "That is true," assented MacBirney, with smiling -candor, "but a poor man doesn't want to spend all his money. Isn't -there a chance," he asked, coming to the point in his mind, "to make -some money in our own stock? I have heard a rumor there would be, but I -can't run it down." - -"There are always chances if you are closely enough in touch with -general conditions. Charles keeps better track of those things than I -do; suppose you talk with him." - -"Charles sends me to you," protested MacBirney good naturedly. - -"Our shares seem just now to be one of the speculative favorites," -returned Kimberly. "That means, as you know, violent fluctuations." - -MacBirney was impatient of hazards. "Put me next on any one of your own -plans, Mr. Kimberly, that you might feel like trusting me with," said -MacBirney, jocularly. - -"I don't often have any speculative schemes of my own," returned -Kimberly. "However," he hesitated a moment; MacBirney leaned forward. -"Doane," continued Kimberly abruptly, "has a strong party interested now -in putting up the common. They profess to think that on its earnings it -should sell higher. In fact, they have sounded me about an extra -dividend. I am opposed to that--until Congress adjourns, at any rate. -But the company is making a great deal of money. I can't uncover -Doane's deal, but I can say this to you: I have agreed to help them as -much as I safely can. By that, I mean, that their speculative interests -must always come second to the investment interests of our -shareholders." - -"By Jove, I wish I could get in on a movement like that, Mr. Kimberly. -With you behind it----" - -"I am not behind it--only not opposed to it. For my part, I never advise -any one to speculate in our securities. I can't do it. I do business -with speculators, but I never speculate myself. You don't credit that, -do you? What I mean is this: I never take chances. If it is necessary, -for cogent reasons, to move our securities up or down, I am in a -position to do so without taking any extreme chances. That is natural, -isn't it?" - -MacBirney laughed and swayed in his chair. "I'd like to be fixed that -way for just one year of my life!" he exclaimed. - -"If you were you would find plenty of other things to engage your -attention." - -"Well, can you do anything for me on this present deal?" - -Kimberly reflected a moment. "Yes," he said finally, "if you will -operate through the brokers I name and do exactly as I say, and run the -risk of losing half the money you put up--I don't see how you could lose -more than that. But if you don't do exactly as I tell you, without -question, you might lose a great deal more. I am not supposing, of -course, that you would risk more than you could afford to lose." - -"Not at all. I want to play safe." - -"Place your orders to-day and to-morrow then for what common you can -carry. Hamilton will let you have what money you need--or he will get -it for you. Then forget all about your investment until I tell you to -sell. Don't question the advice, but get out promptly at that moment no -matter what you hear or what the market looks like. Can you do that? -And keep your own counsel?" - -"Trust me." - -"Good luck then. And if it should come bad, try not to feel incensed at -me," concluded Kimberly, rising. - -"Surely not!" exclaimed MacBirney. - -Kimberly smiled. "But you will, just the same. At least, that is my -experience." - -"What about the winter, Mr. Kimberly--are you going in town?" - -"I haven't decided." - -But although Kimberly had made no decision he had made vague promises to -every one. With Charles he talked about putting his own yacht into -commission, taking Larrie from the refineries for a breathing spell and -meeting Charlie's party in February at Taormina. He discussed with -Dolly a shorter vacation, one of taking passage to Cherbourg, motoring -with Arthur and herself across France and meeting Charles at Nice, -whence all could come home together. - -The Nelsons left the lake last. Lottie gave Kimberly a parting thrust -as she said good-by, delivering it in such a way that she hoped to upset -him. "So you are in love with Alice MacBirney?" she said smilingly. - -Kimberly looked frankly into her clear, sensuous eyes. "What put that -into your head, Lottie?" - -She laughed unsympathetically. "I'm glad you've got some one this time -that will make you do the walking--not one like the rest of us poor -creatures." - -"Why do you talk about 'this time,' and 'us poor creatures'? Let me -tell you something." - -"Do, so I can tell it to Alice." - -"You may at any time tell Mrs. MacBirney anything I say. It is this: if -I should ever find a woman to love, I expect to do the walking. Tell -her that, will you? I respect Mrs. MacBirney very highly and admire her -very much--is that clear? But that is far from outraging her feelings by -coupling her name with mine or mine with hers. Don't do that. I will -never forgive it." She had never seen him so angry. - -He realized more than once during the long winter that the slighted -woman had told him only the truth. But from her it was an impertinent -truth. And it galled him to be forced to admit to the loose-thinking -members of his own set what he felt toward Alice. - -Meantime, he spent the whole winter at The Towers with Uncle John, the -tireless Francis, and his own unruly thoughts. His time went to -conferences with his city associates, infrequent inspections of the -refineries, horseback rides over the winter landscape, and to winter -sunsets watched alone from the great western windows. - -In town Alice found Fritzie an admirable guide. - -"I try," said Fritzie calmly, answering one of Alice's jests at her wide -acquaintance, "to move with the best. I suppose in heaven we shall -encounter all sorts. And if we don't cultivate the elect here we may -never have another chance to." - -"You are far-sighted, Fritzie dear," smiled Alice. "What I can't -understand is, why you don't marry." - -"I have too many rich relations. I couldn't marry anybody in their -class. I should have to pick up with some wretched millionaire and be -reduced to misery. The Lord deliver us from people that watch their -incomes--they are the limit. And it must, I have always thought, be -terrible, Alice, to live with a man that has made a million honestly. -He would be so mean. Of course, we are mean, too; but happily a good -part of our meannesses are underground--buried with our ancestors." - -Fritzie's light words struck home with an unsuspected force. Alice knew -Fritzie had no thought of painting MacBirney; it was only Alice herself -who recognized her husband's portrait. - -Fritzie certainly had, as she admitted, an appetite for the luxurious -and even MacBirney liked her novel extravagances. In their few resting -hours the two women talked of Second Lake. "Fritzie," said Alice one -night when they were together before the fire, "the first time I met -you, you said every one at Second Lake was contented, with two -exceptions. You were one; who was the other?" - -"Robert, dear. He is the most discontented mortal alive. Isn't it all -a strange world?" - -Alice, too, had thoughts that winter, but they were confused thoughts -and not always to be tolerated. She, likewise, was beginning to think -it a strange world. - -MacBirney, guided by McCrea, followed the pool operations with sleepless -vigilance. They reached their height when Congress adjourned early -without disturbing the tariff. The street saw enormous gains ahead for -the crowd operating in the Kimberly stocks and with public buying -underway the upward movement in the shares took on renewed strength. - -It was just at this moment of the adjournment of Congress that Kimberly -sent McCrea to MacBirney with directions to sell, and explicitly as to -how and through whom to sell. MacBirney, to McCrea's surprise, demurred -at the advice and argued that if he dropped out now he should lose the -best profits of the venture. - -McCrea consented to talk to Kimberly again. Doane, the Hamilton banking -interests and their associates were still ostensibly buying and were -talking even higher prices. It did not look right to MacBirney to sell -under such circumstances but McCrea came back the very next day with one -word: "Sell." No reasons, no explanations were given, nothing -vouchsafed but a curt command. - -MacBirney, doubtful and excited, consulted Alice, to whom indeed, in -serious perplexity, he often turned. Knowing nothing about the -situation, she advised him to do precisely as Kimberly directed and to -do so without loss of time. He was still stubborn. No one but himself -knew that he was carrying twice the load of stock he had any right to -assume, and battling thus between greed and prudence he reluctantly -placed the selling orders. - -Just as he had gotten fairly out of it, the market, to his -mortification, advanced. A few days later it ran quite away. Huge -blocks of stock thrown into it made hardly any impression. The market, -as MacBirney had predicted, continued strong. At the end of the week he -felt sure that Kimberly had tricked him, and in spite of winning more -money than he had ever made in his life he was in bad humor. Kimberly -himself deigned no word of enlightenment. McCrea tried to explain to -MacBirney that the public had run away with the market--as it sometimes -did. But MacBirney nursed resentment. - -The Nelsons came over from Washington that week--it was Holy Week--for -the opera and the week-end, and MacBirney asked his wife to entertain -them, together with Lambert, at dinner on Friday night. - -Alice fought the proposal, but MacBirney could not be moved. She -endeavored to have the date changed to Easter Sunday; MacBirney was -relentless. He knew it was Good Friday and that his wife was trying to -avoid entertaining during the evening. But he thought it an opportunity -to discipline her. Alice sent out her invitations and they were -accepted. No such luck, she knew, as a declination would be hers. - -Lottie, amusing herself for the winter with Lambert, was in excellent -humor. But Alice was nervous and everything went wrong. They rose from -the table to go to the opera, where Nelson had the Robert Kimberly box. -Alice seeking the retirement of an easy-chair gave her attention to the -stage and to her own thoughts. In neither did she find anything -satisfying. Mrs. Nelson, too talkative with the men, was a mild -irritation to her, and of all nights in the year this was the last on -which Alice would have wished to be at the opera. It was only one more -link in the long chain of sacrifices she wore for domestic peace, but -to-night her gyves lay heavy on her wrists. She realized that she was -hardly amiable. This box she was enjoying the seclusion of, brought -Kimberly close to her. The difference there would be within it if he -himself were present, suggested itself indolently to her in her -depression. How loath, she reflected, Kimberly would have been to drag -her out when she wished to be at home. It was not the first time that -she had compared him with her husband, but this was the first time she -was conscious of having done so. All they were enjoying was his; yet -she knew he would have been indifferent to everything except what she -preferred. - -And it was not alone what he had indicated in deferring to her wishes; -it was what he often did in deferring in indifferent things to the -wishes of others that had impressed itself upon her more than any trait -in his character. How much happier she should be if her own husband -were to show a mere trace of such a disposition, she felt past even the -possibility of telling him; it seemed too useless. He could not be made -to understand. - -For supper the party went with Nelson. The gayety of the others left -Alice cold. Nelson, with the art of the practised entertainer, urged -the eating and drinking, and when the party left the buzzing café some -of them were heated and unrestrained. At two o'clock, Alice with her -husband and Fritzie reached their apartment, and Alice, very tired, went -directly to her own rooms. MacBirney came in, somewhat out of humor. -"What's the matter with you to-night?" he demanded. Alice had dismissed -Annie and her husband sat down beside her table. - -"With me? Nothing, Walter; why?" - -"You acted so cattish all the evening," he complained, with an -irritating little oath. - -Alice was in no mood to help him along. "How so?" she asked tying her -hair as she turned to look at him. - -An inelegant exclamation annoyed her further. "You know what I mean just -as well as I do," he went on curtly. "You never opened your mouth the -whole evening. Lottie asked me what the matter was with you----" - -Alice repeated but one word of the complaining sentence. "Lottie!" she -echoed. Her husband's anger grew. "If Lottie would talk less," -continued Alice quietly, "and drink less, I should be less ashamed to be -seen with her. And perhaps I could talk more myself." - -"You never did like anybody that liked me. So it is Lottie you're -jealous of?" - -"No, not 'jealous of,' only ashamed of. Even at the dinner she was -scandalous, I thought." - -Her husband regarded her with stubborn contempt, and it hurt. "You are -very high and mighty to-night. I wonder," he said with a scarcely -concealed sneer, "whether prosperity has turned your head." - -"You need not look at me in that way, Walter, and you need not taunt -me." - -"You have been abusing Lottie Nelson a good deal lately. I wish you -would stop it." He rose and stood with one hand on the table. Alice -was slipping her rings into the cup in front of her and she dropped in -the last with some spirit. - -"I will stop it. And I hope you will never speak of her again. I -certainly never will entertain her again under any circumstances," she -exclaimed. - -"You will entertain her the next time I tell you to." - -Alice turned quite white. "Have you anything else to say to me?" - -Her very restraint enraged him. "Only that if you try to ride your high -horse with me," he replied, "I will send you back to St. Louis some fine -day." - -"Is that all?" - -"That is all. And if you think I don't mean what I say, try it -sometime." As he spoke he pushed the chair in which he had been sitting -roughly aside. - -Alice rose to her feet. "I despise your threats," she said, choking -with her own words. "I despise you. I can't tell you how I despise -you." Her heart beat rebelliously and she shook in every limb; -expressions that she would not have known for her own fell stinging from -her lips. "You have bullied me for the last time. I have stood your -abuse for five years. It will stop now. You will do the cringing and -creeping from now on. That woman never shall sit down at a table with -me again, not if you beg it of me on your knees. You are a cowardly -wretch; I know you perfectly; you never were anything else. I have paid -dearly for ever believing you a man." Her contempt burned the words she -uttered. "Now drive me one step further," she sobbed wildly, "if you -dare!" - -She snapped out the light above her head with an angry twist. Another -light shone through the open door of her sleeping-room and through this -door she swiftly passed, slamming it shut and locking it sharply behind -her. - -MacBirney had never seen his wife in such a state. He was surprised; -but there could be no mistake. Her blood was certainly up. - - - - - CHAPTER XX - - -If Alice or her husband apprehended a stormy sequel to the unpleasant -scene in her dressing room both were relieved that none followed. Not a -word came up between them as a result of the breach. There was the -usual silence that follows a tempestuous outbreak and the usual -indirect, almost accidental, resumption of speaking relations after the -acute suspicion of renewed hostilities had worn itself out. - -MacBirney had the best of reasons for ignoring what had passed. He had, -in fact, experienced the most surprising moments of his life and caution -advised against the stirring up of any further altercation. Heretofore -he had always known just what his wife, when bullied, would do; but he -no longer knew and the uncertainty gave him pause. - -He found matter for surprise, indeed for a series of surprises, in the -manner in which Alice stood newly revealed to him. Dependence and -timidity seemed suddenly to have left her. She walked a new path; not -one of complete indifference to her husband, but of decision complete in -itself. Forced to cast aside his judgment and fall back on her own, -Alice accepted the alternative openly. Her new attitude made itself -felt in unnumbered ways--sometimes in no more than arranging for a day -down-town with Fritzie, sometimes in discussing when Cedar Lodge should -be opened and how. MacBirney found himself no longer consulted; Alice -told him what she intended to do. If he gave arbitrary or unreasonable -orders they were ignored. If he followed the subject further his -inquiries were ignored. - -Alice realized it was not right to live in a home in this way, but -MacBirney himself had taught her so many ways of wrong living that -compunction had grown dull. His pupil, long unwilling to accept his -debasing standards of married life, long suffering the cruelty of -finding them enforced upon her, had at last become all that he had made -her and something unpleasantly more--she made herself now complete -mistress of her own affairs. - -Nor was Alice less surprised at the abject surrender of her husband. -She knew him in the end better than he knew himself, and cowardly though -he was, she felt the new situation would not endure forever--that worse -must surely follow. But those who learn to sleep on dumb reproach and -still for years the cry of waking apprehension, learn also not to look -with foreboding ahead. - -There were, it is true, times in which Alice asked herself if in her new -attitude she were not walking in a dream; slumbers in which the old -shrinking fear returned; moments in which she could hardly realize her -own determination. But the fear that had so long subdued her now served -to support her courage. Go back she would not; the present she had made -her own, the future must account for itself. - -Moreover, as the acuteness of the crisis passed everything looked -better. The present tends always to justify itself. And prosperous -skies opening on MacBirney's speculative ventures consoled him for such -loss of prestige as he suffered in his own home. - -He was again, curiously enough, Alice thought, in cordial touch with -Robert Kimberly. She never asked a question and did not know for a long -time what could account for this change, since he had been abusing -Kimberly vigorously during the life of the market pool. Kimberly had -never called at the town apartment and Alice heard of him only through -Fritzie, who visited The Towers on monetary errands and always spoke -interestingly of Robert's affairs. - -And now spring airs came even to town, and Alice, breathing them, with -the sudden sunshine and the morning song of birds, longed for her -country home. She kept the telephone wire busy summoning her gardener -to conferences and laid out elaborate plans with him for making Cedar -Lodge more beautiful for the summer. A number of things conspired to -keep her from getting out to Second Lake early. But the servants had -been installed and the lodge put in readiness for her coming. - -One night in May--a summer night, warm, lighted by the moon and -still--an impulse seized Alice to break away from everything for the -country. Morning found her with Fritzie, and accompanied only by their -maids, in a big motor-car speeding over the ribbon roads toward Second -Lake. A curious play of emotions possessed Alice as they whirled -through the dust of the village and swung into the hills toward The -Towers. She had given no instructions to her chauffeur as to which road -he should take and he had chosen the southern road because the grades -were better. - -It was months since Alice had seen Kimberly. But not until now did she -realize with some apprehension how much he had been in her mind all -winter. The near prospect of meeting him disturbed her and she felt an -uneasiness at the thought. It was too late to change the route. She -felt she had been wrong not to give orders for the north road in time. -Then the notion came that she must meet him sometime, anyway, and -whenever they met he must be kept within bounds she had set many times -since their last hour together. She could see in the distance The -Towers gates and the lodge, sentinel-like, away up the road. The mere -sight of the familiar entrance brought Kimberly up sharply. The -chauffeur checked the car to ask whether he should drive through the -grounds. Fritzie said, "Yes." - -Alice corrected her, "No, no." - -"Why, my dear," exclaimed Fritzie, "not stop to speak to Robert!" - -"It will delay us, and I am crazy to get home." - -"But it will cut off two miles!" - -"And keep us an hour." - -"It won't keep us five minutes and the grounds are beautiful." - -"We will see them to-morrow. Drive straight ahead, Peters." - -Fritzie protested as they flew past the lodge. "I feel like a heathen -going by The Towers in this way. I hope Robert won't hear of it." - -"I will take all the blame," returned Alice, with a bravado she did not -feel. Then she laid her hand on Fritzie's arm. "You may come back -right after luncheon." - -When they reached the hill beyond Black Rock they saw Cedar Point lying -below in the sunshine of the lake. Alice cried out at the beauty of it. -Her spirits rose with an emotion that surprised her. For an instant she -could not speak. Her eyes moistened and the load that had oppressed her -a moment earlier took wings. Before she had quite recovered, the car -was down the hill and speeding through the green gates, up the winding -avenue of maples, and swinging in an alarming ellipse around to the -front of the house. - -She ran in through the open doors as if she had left it all but -yesterday. Flowers were everywhere. She passed from room to room with -the bubbling spirits of a child and dropped at last into her own little -chair at her toilet table. Annie, infected with the happiness of her -mistress, was wreathed in smiles as she took her hat, while Fritzie, -sitting in dusty veil and gloves, telephone in hand, was calling The -Towers and in the same breath begging her maid to prepare her bath. No -response to Fritzie's telephone message came until late in the -afternoon. About four o'clock Robert Kimberly called her up. - -"I hear you have arrived," he said. - -"This is a pretty time for you to be answering, Robert. Where have you -been all day?" - -"Driving with Francis. He hasn't been very well lately. I took him -over to the Sound. How is Mrs. MacBirney, Fritzie?" - -"Come over and see." - -"Call her to the telephone." - -Alice took the receiver. "How do you do, Mr. Kimberly?" - -"Glad to hear your voice. Fritzie has been telling me stories about you -all winter." - -Alice controlled the pleasant excitement that came with the familiar -sound of his own voice. "You mustn't believe the stories you hear," she -laughed. "How are you all?" - -"One story to-day sounded pretty straight." - -"Sometimes those are the least reliable. How is your uncle?" - -"Still I shall have to have it out with you--passing us by this -morning." - -"But you weren't at home." - -"Worse and worse--you didn't know that." - -She laughed again happily. "You may scold as much as you like, I'm so -happy to get home I'm walking on air." - -"How do you manage that? I never can get up any excitement over getting -home. I wish I might come and see how it affects you." - -"Do come." - -"Unfortunately I am leaving to-night for the Southwest." - -"For the Southwest?" she echoed in surprise. "But we heard of you just -back from the West." - -"Yes, and with some stories for you. This time it is New Orleans and a -terminal project." - -"So busy a man! I hope we shall see you when you return." - -"I certainly hope so. If I didn't, I shouldn't go. By-the-way," he -added humorously, "I seem to have dropped something." - -"What can it be?" - -"The string you held out a minute ago." - -Alice's eyes danced but only the telephone receiver saw them. "What -string?" - -"About letting me come over. A car was set in this afternoon at Sunbury -but the train doesn't pick me up till eleven o'clock to-night. I might -run over to see you on my way down----" - -"Oh, by all means, do, Mr. Kimberly." - -"--just to see how you look when you are happy." - -"Do come; but I am always happy." - -He hesitated a moment. "If I were sure of that I might not come." - -"You _may_ be 'sure,' I assure you. And why, pray, shouldn't you come?" - -He retreated easily. "Because in that case I could see your happiness, -without intruding on you when you are tired--as you must be now. -However, I will run in for a few moments after dinner." - -Kimberly appeared shortly before nine o'clock. Fritzie greeted him. -"Oh, aren't you youthful to-night?" she exclaimed. He was in a -travelling suit and his face was tanned from his Western trip. "You -should never wear anything but gray, Robert." - -"Has she been as agreeable as this all winter?" asked Kimberly turning -to greet Alice. - -"All winter," declared Fritzie, answering for herself, "except once when -Lottie Nelson's dog chewed up a lace hat for me, and Robert, I have -spent this whole winter saying good things about you--haven't I Alice? -Even when we saw they were trying to put you in jail." - -"Many worthy people seemed to sympathize with that effort," responded -Kimberly dryly. "I trust you didn't?" he added turning to Alice. - -"I? Not in the least. If they had succeeded, I should have brought you -flowers." - -The three sat down. Kimberly looked at Alice. "What have you been doing -all winter?" - -"Nothing." - -"Listen to that!" exclaimed Fritzie. "Why, we've been as busy as ants -all winter." - -"Fritzie would never allow you to do nothing," said Kimberly. "You met -a lot of people she tells me." - -"I said 'nothing,' because the time went so fast I found no time to do -anything I had intended to." - -Fritzie objected again: "You kept at your singing all winter, didn't -you?" - -Kimberly showed interest at once. "Good! Let us hear now how your voice -sounds in the country air." - -"I haven't any songs." - -"You threw some into the wicker trunk," interposed Fritzie. - -"Find them, Fritzie, do," said Kimberly. "And what else did you do?" he -asked of Alice as Fritzie ran upstairs. - -"Everything that country people do," responded Alice. "And you've been -West? Tell me all about it." - -Kimberly looked very comfortable in a Roman chair as he bent his eyes -upon her. "Hardly a spot in Colorado escaped me this time. And I went -to Piedmont----" - -"To Piedmont?" cried Alice. "Oh, to see the little factory." - -"To see the house you lived in when you were there." - -"What possible interest could that poor cottage have for any one? You -must have realized that we began housekeeping very modestly." - -He brushed her suggestion away with a gesture. - -"I wanted to see it merely because you had lived in it." He waited a -moment. "Can't you understand that?" - -"Frankly, I cannot." - -"St. Louis was very interesting," he went on. - -"Oh, I love St. Louis!" Alice exclaimed. - -"So do I," assented Kimberly. "And in St. Louis I went to see the house -you were born in. It was worth looking at; your father's house was a -house of character and dignity----" - -"Why, thank you!" - -"--Like many of the older houses I ran across in searching it out----" - -Alice seemed unable to rise quite above her embarrassment. "I can -hardly believe you are not making fun of me. What ridiculous quests in -St. Louis and in Piedmont! Surely there must have been incidents of -more importance than these in a three-weeks' trip." - -He ignored her comment. "I stood a long time staring at your father's -house, and wishing I might have been born in that little old cottage -just across the street from where that rich little girl of sixteen -lived. I would rather have known you then than lived all I have lived -since you were born there." - -Alice returned his look with control of every feature. "I did not live -there till I was sixteen, if you mean the old home. And if you had been -born just across the street you would have had no absurd idea about that -little girl in your head. Little girls are not usually interested in -little boys across the street. Little boys born thousands of miles away -have better chances, I think, of knowing them. And it is better so--for -_they_, at least, don't know what absurd, selfish little things girls -across the street are." - -"That is all wrong----" - -"It is not," declared Alice pointedly. - -But the force of everything she said was swept away by his manner. -"Only give me the same street and the meanest house in it!" His -intensity would not be answered. "_I_ would have taken the chances of -winning." - -"What confidence!" - -"And I'd have done it or torn the house down." - -Fritzie came back. "I can't find the music anywhere." - -Kimberly rose to go to the music room. "No matter," he persisted, "sing -anything you can remember, Mrs. MacBirney--just sing." - -It seemed easier, as it always seemed when Kimberly persisted, to -consent than to decline. Alice sang an English ballad. Then a -scrap--all she could remember--of a Moskowski song; then an Italian -ballad. Kimberly leaned on the piano. - -"Do you like any of those?" asked Alice with her hands running over the -keys. - -"All of them. But what was the last?" - -"An Italian air." - -"Yes, I remember it--in Italy. Sing it again, will you?" - -"Tell me about that song," he said when she had repeated it. "It is -lovely." - -"I don't know much. It is a very old song." - -"Have I ever told you about a villa on Lago Maggiore?" - -"Fritzie has told me. She says it is a dream." - -"I should like to hear you sing that song there sometime." - -The moon was rising when Kimberly left for the train. Fritzie objected -to his going. "Give up your trip. Stay over to-night. What's the -difference?" - -"I can't, Fritzie. I'm going like a minstrel show, billed for one-night -stands. I have engagements ahead of me all the way and if I miss a day -I upset the whole schedule." - -"What's it all about?" - -"A railroad terminal and reorganization. And I've just time to get -around and back for Charles's return." - -"And the country dance!" said Fritzie. - -"Dolly's country dance," explained Alice. - -"Good. I don't want to miss that." - -Fritzie caught his sleeve. "You disappointed us last year." - -"You may count on me," promised Kimberly. - -Fritzie pouted. "I know what that means, 'don't count on me!'" - -"This time," returned Kimberly as the door of his motor-car was opened -for him, "it isn't going to mean that, Fritzie." - - - - - CHAPTER XXI - - -MacBirney followed his household to the country after two weeks. The De -Castros were then back and Dolly enlisted Alice and Fritzie to make -ready for the dance at Black Rock barn which regularly signalized at -Second Lake what Nelson termed the "opening of navigation." - -Alice, with Fritzie to help, was charged with the decorations for the -event, and two days before it, the available men about the place, under -their direction, were emptying the green-houses and laying the woods -under tribute. - -The lighting scheme Alice pronounced ineffective. For years no one had -given the subject any attention. At the last moment electricians were -brought out from town to work early and late and lights were installed -from which operators in elevated cages could throw sheets of color on -the dancers. - -When Imogene and Charles got home--and they were late, arriving only the -evening before the party--Dolly, who met them at the train, drove them -directly to Black Rock, where Alice with her husband, Fritzie, and -Arthur De Castro was conducting a rehearsal of the electrical effects. -The kisses and embraces of the committee and the arrivals took place -under the rays of the new spot lights. - -"Now if Robert were here," cried Fritzie impatiently, "everything would -be complete. No one knows where he is. Suppose he doesn't come?" - -"He is in town and will be out to-morrow." Imogene as she made the -announcement put her arm around Alice. "Sweetheart, you must be dead." - -Alice was sustained by the excitement. "Nothing of the sort. I haven't -done anything but suggest," she said gayly. "Fritzie has done all the -work. In the morning we will bring in the apple blossoms and we are -through." - -But when she had received all the enthusiasm and compliments she went -home tired. MacBirney came to her room to talk, but he had no word for -the successful decorations and Alice pleading fatigue went directly to -bed. - -She woke with the sun streaming through the east windows. It was late -and though still tired she rose at once. The morning was superb, and, -while dressing, Alice surprised Annie by singing to herself. - -Fritzie drove over with her to Black Rock. Alice running in to speak to -Dolly found her in bed. Dolly kissed her. "You look so fresh, dear." -Alice drew herself up with a laugh. "It's the morning, Dolly." - -"By-the-way, Robert is here. He came late and he and Arthur talked so -long he stayed all night. He is just across the hall in the blue room." - -"Then every one is accounted for. I must be off, Dolly." - -"Where are you going?" - -"To the woods with Fritzie to get the blossoms." - -An old coaching brake had been sent up from the stables and Arthur De -Castro was waiting for the two women. "I am going to drive you down the -field before I take my ride," he explained. - -"You do need exercise. You look sleepy, Arthur," remarked Fritzie, -critically. - -"Robert kept me up all night." Arthur turned to Alice. "You knew he -was back?" - -"Dolly told me." - -"The lazy fellow isn't up yet," said Fritzie. - -Arthur corrected her. "He is up and gone home. But he will be over -again this morning." - -The horses were fresh and took Arthur's attention across the field and -the big wagon lurched as the team danced along. In the woods they found -Grace De Castro with the men who were to work. Arthur's saddle-horse was -in waiting. The men began loading the brake with elder blossoms, brier -roses, and branches from the forest trees. Arthur had meant to take his -groom with him, but found there would be nobody to drive the brake back -to the barn. - -"No matter, Mr. De Castro," said Alice. "Take him. I will drive back." -Arthur demurred, but Alice insisted. "I would rather drive the team -than not. I drive our horses all the time." - -Arthur and the groom rode away. Fritzie and Grace looked at Alice in -astonishment when the wagon had been loaded and Alice took the driver's -high seat, pulled her glove gauntlets back taut and a gardener handed -her the reins. - -"Aren't you afraid?" cried Grace. - -"Not in the least," Alice answered, slipping her hands into the driving -loops and putting her foot on the wheel-brake. - -"Really," declared Grace, "you have quite an air." - -Fritzie was apprehensive. "For Heaven's sake, don't let them run away, -Allie." - -The men at the bridles stood aside, Alice spoke and the team leaped -swiftly ahead. She gave them leeway for a few moments, but kept them -under control and her manner was so confident that Fritzie's fears were -allayed before the brake had crossed the first hill. As Alice made the -turn in the road and looked laughingly back the two girls waved approval -at her. They saw the brim of her broad hat rising and falling like a -bird's wings as she nodded to them; then she threw on the wheel-brake -and started down the hill. - -For a moment the difficulty of holding the pair in check increased and -by the time the barn was in sight the struggle had stirred her blood. -It colored two little circles in her cheeks and had lighted fires of -animation in her gray eyes. She saw the rising entrance to the barn and -only took heed that the doors were wide open. Then she gave all her -strength to guiding the rushing horses up the long incline. Just as -their heads shot under the doorway the off horse shied. The front -wheels of the brake bounced over the threshold and Alice saw, standing -within, Robert Kimberly. - -She gave an exclamation of surprise as she threw on the wheel-brake, -pulled with all her strength on the reins and brought her horses to a -halt. Kimberly with one hand on the casement stood perfectly still -until she looked around. Then he came forward laughing. "You certainly -are a capital whip." - -"You frightened me nearly to death!" exclaimed Alice with a long breath. -"Where, pray, did you come from?" she demanded, looking down from her -eminence. - -"From almost everywhere. And you?" - -"From the woods." - -He laid a hand on the foot-board. "Really, I wonder whether there is -anything you can't do." - -"I am afraid there is one thing now. I don't see how I am going to get -down. Aren't there any men around to take the horses?" - -"The horses will stand. Just hook your lines and jump from the wheel." - -Alice looked at the distance in dismay. "That is easy to say." - -"Not hard to do," returned Kimberly. "I'll break your flight." - -"I'm a wretched jumper." - -"Nonsense. You can't tell me you're a wretched anything after that -drive." - -"Step away then and I'll jump. Only, I don't see just how I am going to -stop after I start." - -"What do you want to stop for? Come ahead." - -She put her foot cautiously on the wheel; it was a very pretty foot. -Then she steadied herself and with her hand swept little ringlets of -hair from her eyes. - -She knew he was waiting to receive her and, meaning to elude him, turned -at the last instant and jumped away from where he stood. Kimberly, in -spite of her precaution, caught her as her feet struck the floor, and -leaned an instant over her. "Beautifully done!" he exclaimed, and -drawing her suddenly into his arms he kissed her. - -She pushed him back with all her strength. He met her consternation with -good humor. "I couldn't help it." - -Alice, burning with angry blushes, retreated. He hoped it would end -there and ignored the outraged spirit in her eyes as she took her -handkerchief from her waist. - -He tried to laugh again. "Don't be angry." But Alice put both hands to -her face and walked quickly away. - - - - - CHAPTER XXII - - -Kimberly followed her through the open door. "Where are you going?" he -asked. Her answer came in her quickened step. He repeated his words -without eliciting any response. Then he stepped directly in front of her -in the path. "Stop for one moment. Alice, you can't go any farther -while you are as angry at me as you are now." - -"I am Alice to no one but my husband," she exclaimed controlling herself -as well as she could. "You shall not stop me, you have no right to." - -"Where are you going?" - -"I am going home." - -"Listen; you are Alice to me--now, and forever; remember that." - -Her knees trembled as she strove to escape him. She tried to pass -through the shrubbery and could not. She felt faint and dizzy. The -very world had changed with a kiss. Everything in life seemed upset, -every safeguard gone. - -He took her arm. "Come back to the path, Alice. We must walk it -together." - -She paused an instant for breath and made an effort to speak as she put -his hand angrily away. "I insist," she cried, "that you do not continue -to insult me." - -"If you wait for me to insult you, Alice, you will wait a long time. I -should be as likely to insult my own mother." - -"I have done nothing to deserve this," she sobbed, frantic with -confusion. - -"You deserve more a thousand times than my devotion ever can bring you. -But all it can ever bring, from the moment I kissed you, is yours." - -Her eyes blazed through her tears. In her helpless wrath she stamped -her foot. "You are shameless. I detest your conduct. If you are going -to the house I will stay here. If you are not, let me go." - -He met her denunciation with steadiness. "Nothing you can say will anger -me." - -"You mean you have no respect for me." She spoke so fast she could -scarcely frame the words. "Why don't you say so? Are you too cowardly?" - -The imputation stung him. He seemed to explode inwardly. "I have -nothing _but_ respect for you, Alice," he insisted with terrifying -energy, "but this thing must be fought out----" - -She attempted to speak. His words drowned her. "I want to say nothing -that will wound or offend you. You make it very hard for me to speak at -all----" - -"You have no right to speak----" - -"But, Alice," he exclaimed, throwing all his force into the words, "you -don't love that man. That is why I speak. If you _did_ love him, if -even he loved you, I could be silent." - -"I love my husband as a wife should," she cried, struggling vainly to -escape his accusation. - -"You do not. You cannot!" - -They spoke at white heat, she fighting vainly to control her trembling -limbs and Kimberly pausing at times to deal better his sledge-hammer -blows at her pitiful strength. - -"You do not love that man. If I believed you did," he spoke with a -bitterness she had never heard before, "I should never want to see -another sun rise. I respect you above all women that breathe; but in -that I am right, I can't be wrong. I have suppressed and stifled and -smothered as long as I can and it will come out!" - -"I will not hear you!" - -"Sometime, somewhere, you will hear me. Don't speak!" he exclaimed -vehemently. The veins knotted upon his forehead. "I forgot myself for -a moment. If you knew what it costs me to remember! But, Alice, for me -it is you--or nothing in this world. Remember! You or nothing!" - -She searched his face for pity. "I am sinking with shame. What -further, what more humiliation do you want? We are in plain view of the -house. I am utterly helpless. Will you not have the decency to leave -me?" - -"I wish I could have said this better; I do nothing well. If I have -hurt you, I am very, very sorry." He strode away toward the garden. - -Trying to compose herself, Alice walked to the house. Providentially, -Dolly had already started for the field. Summoning a servant, Alice -ordered her car and with her head whirling started for home. As she was -hurried over the country road her mind gradually righted itself, and -strange thoughts ran like lightning flashes through her brain. Reaching -home, she hastened upstairs and locked her door. - -What startled her most painfully in her reflections was the unwelcome -conviction that there was nothing new, nothing surprising in her -situation. Nothing, at least, except this violent outburst which she now -realized she ought long ago to have foreseen. She was suddenly -conscious that she had long known Kimberly loved her, and that one day -he would call her to account--for the crime of being loved in spite of -herself, she reflected bitterly. - -She threw herself on her couch and held her hands upon her burning -temples. He had caught her in his arms and forced a kiss upon her. The -blood suffused her face at the recollection. Again and again, though -she turned from the picture, imagination brought it back. She saw his -eyes as he bent over her; the thought of the moment was too much to -support. Her very forehead crimsoned as the scene presented itself. -And worse, was the realizing that something of fascination lingered in -the horror of that instant of amazement and fear and mad repulsion of -his embrace. She hid her face in her pillow. - -After a time she grew calmer, and with her racing pulse quieted, her -emotion wore itself somewhat out. Saner thoughts asserted themselves. -She felt that she could fight it out. She searched her heart and found -no wantonness within it. Strongly assailed, and not, she felt, through -her own fault, she would fight and resist. He had challenged her when -he had said it should be fought out. She, too, resolved it should be. - -She bathed her forehead, and when she felt sure of herself, rang for -Annie. Lunch was served in her room, but she could eat nothing. At -moments she felt the comforting conviction of having settled her mind. -Unhappily, her mind would not stay settled. Nothing would stay settled. -No mood that brought relief would remain. The blood came unbidden to -her cheeks even while Annie was serving her and her breath would catch -at the opening of a door. - -When she heard the hum of a motor-car on the open highway her heart -jumped. She opened the porch doors and went out to where she could look -on the lake. Her eyes fell upon the distant Towers and her anger -against Kimberly rose. She resolved he should realize how he had -outraged her self-respect. She picked from the troubled current of her -thought cutting things that she ought to have said. She despised -herself for not having more angrily resented his conduct, and -determined, if he dared further persist, to expose him relentlessly to -the circle of their friends, even if they were his own relations. There -should be no guilty secret between them; this, at least, she could -insure. - -When the telephone bell rang, Annie answered it. Dolly was calling for -Alice and went into a state when told that Alice had come home affected -by the heat, and had given up and gone to bed; she hoped yet, Annie -said, to be all right for the evening. Fritzie took the wire at Black -Rock to ask what she could do, and Annie assured her there was nothing -her mistress needed but quiet and rest. - -When the receiver had been hung up the first bridge was crossed, for -Alice was resolved above all things not to be seen that night at the -dance. When Fritzie came back to Cedar Lodge to dress, Alice was still -in bed. Her room was darkened and Annie thought she might be sleeping. -At dinner-time, MacBirney, who had been in town all day, came in to see -how she was. She told her husband that he would have to go to Dolly's -with Fritzie. - -MacBirney bent over his wife and kissed her, greatly to her mental -discomfort. An unwelcome kiss from him seemed to bring back more -confusingly the recollection of Kimberly's kiss, and to increase her -perplexities. She detested her husband's caresses; they meant no real -affection and she did not intend he should think she believed they did. -But she never could decide where to draw the line with him, and was -divided between a desire to keep him always at a distance and a wish not -to seem always unamiable. - -Fritzie, after she was dressed, tiptoed in. The room was lighted to -show Alice the new gown. It was one of their spring achievements, and -Alice raised herself on her pillow to give a complete approval of the -effect. "It is a stunning thing; simply stunning. If you would only -stop running yourself to death, Fritzie, and put on ten pounds, you -would be absolute perfection." - -"If I stopped running myself to death what would there be to live for?" -demanded Fritzie, refastening the last pin in her Dresden girdle. "We -all have to live for something." - -Alice put her hand to her head. "I wonder what I have to live for?" - -Fritzie turned sharply. "You? Why nothing but to spend your money and -have a good time. Too bad about you, isn't it? You'll soon have a -million a year for pin-money." - -Alice shook her head. "A dozen millions a year would not interest me, -Fritzie." - -Fritzie laughed. "Don't be too sure, my dear; not too sure. Well," -Fritzie's hands ran carefully over her hair for the last time, "there -are a lot of men coming over from the Sound to-night. I may meet my -fate!" - -"I wish you may with all my heart, Fritzie. Why is it fates always come -to people that don't want them?" - -"Don't you believe it," cried Fritzie, "they do want them." - -"They don't--not always." - -"Don't you ever believe it--they only say they don't or think they -don't!" she exclaimed, with accustomed vehemence. - -Alice moved upon her pillow in impatient disapproval. "I hope you'll -have a good time to-night." - -MacBirney was ready and Fritzie joined him. The house grew quiet after -they left. Annie brought up a tray and Alice took a cup of broth. She -did not long resist the drowsiness that followed. She thought vaguely -for a moment of a prayer for safety. But her married life had long -excluded prayer. What good could come of praying to be kept unharmed -while living in a state that had in itself driven her from prayer? -That, at least, would be too absurd, and with a dull fear gnawing and -dying alternately at her heart she fell asleep. - - - - - CHAPTER XXIII - - -At noon next day MacBirney, seeking his wife, found her in her -dressing-room. She had come from the garden and stood before a table -filled with flowers, which she was arranging in vases. - -"I've been looking for you." MacBirney threw himself into a convenient -chair as he spoke. "Robert Kimberly is downstairs." - -"Mr. Kimberly? To see you, I suppose." - -"No, to see you." - -"To see _me_?" Alice with flowers in her hand, paused. Then she -carried a vase to the mantel-piece. "At this time of day?" - -"Well--to see us, he says." - -She returned to the table. "What in the world does he want to see us -about?" - -MacBirney laughed. "He says he has something to say to both of us. I -told him I would bring you down." - -A breath would have toppled Alice over. "I can't dress to go down now," -she managed to say. "It may be something from Dolly. Ask him to give -you any message he has." - -Walking hurriedly to the mantel with another jar of roses, she found her -fear extreme. Could it be possible Kimberly would dream of saying to -her husband what he had said to her yesterday? She smothered at the -thought, yet she knew his appalling candor and felt unpleasantly -convinced that he was capable of repeating every word of it. The idea -threw her into a panic. She resolved not to face him under such -circumstances; she was in no position to do so. "Tell him," she said -abruptly, "that as much as I should like to hear what he has to say, he -will have to excuse me this morning." - -"He offered to come this evening if you preferred." - -"We have other guests to-night," returned Alice coldly. "And I can't be -bothered now." - -"Bothered?" echoed MacBirney with sarcasm. "Perhaps I had better tell -him that." - -"By all means, if you want to," she retorted in desperation. "Tell him -anything you like." - -Her husband rose. "You are amiable this morning." - -"No, I am not, I'm sorry to say. I am not quite well--that is the real -truth and must be my excuse. Make it for me or not as you like." - -MacBirney walked downstairs. After an interminable time, Alice, -breathing more freely, heard Kimberly's car moving from the door. When -she went down herself she watched narrowly the expression of her -husband's face. But he was plainly interested in nothing more serious -than Fritzie's account of the country dance. When Alice ventured to ask -directly what Kimberly's messages were, he answered that Kimberly had -given none. With Fritzie, Alice took a drive after luncheon somewhat -easier in mind. Yet she reflected that scarcely twenty-four hours had -passed and she already found herself in an atmosphere of suspense and -apprehension from which there seemed no escape. - -While she was dressing that night, flowers from The Towers' gardens were -brought to Cedar Lodge in boxfuls, just as they had regularly been sent -the year before--roses for the tables, violets for Alice's rooms, -orchids for herself. If she only dared send them back! Not, she knew, -that it would make any difference with the sender, but it would at least -express her indignation. She still speculated as to whether Kimberly -would dare to tell her husband and upon what would happen if he should -tell him. - -And her little dream of publicity as an antidote! What had become of it -already? So far as Kimberly was concerned, she now firmly believed he -was ready to publish his attitude toward her to the world. And she -shrank with every instinct from the prospective shame and humiliation. - -The water about her seemed very deep as she reflected, and she felt -singularly helpless. She had never heard of a situation just such as -this, never imagined one exactly like it. This man seemed different -from every other she had ever conceived of; more frankly brutal than -other brutes and more to be dreaded than other men. - -A week passed before Kimberly and Alice met. It was at Charles -Kimberly's. Doctor Bryson, the Nelsons, and Fritzie were there. - -As Alice and her husband came down, Charles Kimberly and Robert walked -out of the library. Robert bowed to MacBirney and to Alice--who scarcely -allowed her eyes to answer his greeting. - -"Are you always glad to get back to your own country, Mrs. Kimberly?" -asked MacBirney greeting his hostess. - -Imogene smiled. "Dutifully glad." - -"Is that all?" - -"At least, I come back with the same feeling of relief that I am getting -back to democracy." - -"That is," suggested Lottie Nelson, "getting back to where you are the -aristocracy." - -Dolly, who with her husband joined them in time to hear the remark, -tossed her head. "I always thank Heaven, Lottie, that we have no -aristocracy here." - -"But you are wrong, Dolly, we have," objected Robert Kimberly as the -party went into the drawing-room. "Democracy is nothing but an -aristocracy of ability. What else can happen when you give everybody a -chance? We began in this country by ridding ourselves of an aristocracy -of heredity and privilege; and we have only succeeded in substituting -for it the coldest, cruelest aristocracy known to man--the aristocracy -of brains. This is the aristocracy that controls our manufacturing, our -transportation, our public service and our finance; it makes our laws -and apportions our taxation. And from this fell cause done our present -griefs arise." - -"But you must rid yourself of the grossly material conception of an -aristocracy, Mr. Kimberly," said Nelson. "Our real aristocracy, I take -it, is not our material one, as Robert Kimberly insists. The true -aristocrat, I hold, is the real but mere gentleman." - -"Exactly right," assented De Castro. "The gentleman and nothing else is -the thing." - -"There is nothing more interesting than the gentleman," returned Robert -Kimberly, "except the gentleman plus the brute. But the exception is -enormous, for it supplies our material aristocrat." - -"You must remember, though, that ideas of superiority and inferiority -are very tricky," commented Imogene. "And they persist for centuries. -To the Naples beggar, even to-day, the Germans are 'barbarians.' And -whenever I encounter the two I never can decide which _is_ the -aristocrat, the traveller or the beggar." - -"I read your speech at the New England dinner last night," said Imogene, -turning to Nelson, "and I saw all the nice things that were said about -it this morning." - -"If credit were due anywhere it would be to the occasion," returned -Nelson. "There is always something now in such gatherings to suggest -the discomforting reflection that our best native stock is dying out." - -Dolly looked distressed. "Oh, dear, are those unfortunate people still -dying out? I've been worrying over their situation for years. Can't -any one do anything?" - -"Don't let it disturb you, Mrs. De Castro," said Bryson. - -"But I am afraid it is getting on my nerves." - -"Nothing dies out that doesn't deserve to die out," continued Bryson. -"As to the people Nelson speaks of, I incline to think they ought to die -out. Their whole philosophy of life has been bad. Nature ought to be -ashamed, of course, to pass them by and turn to inferior races for her -recruits. But since all races are inferior to them, what can she do but -take refuge with the despised foreigner? The men and women that take -life on the light-housekeeping plan may do so if they will--for one -generation. What may safely be counted on is that nature will find its -workers in the human hive even if it has to turn to the savage tribes." - -"But the poor savages, doctor--they also are on the verge of extinction, -are they not?" demanded Dolly. - -"Then nature will provide its workers from one unfailing source--from -those we have always with us, the poor and the despised. And it can be -depended on with equal certainty to cast the satisfied, cultivated, and -intellectual drones into outer darkness." - -"My dear, but the doctor is savage, isn't he?" Lottie Nelson made the -appeal indolently to Imogene. "We shall soon be asking, doctor," she -concluded languidly, "which tribe you belong to." - -"He would answer, the medical tribe," suggested Fritzie. - -"Speaking of savages," interposed Arthur De Castro, "Charles and I were -making a portage once on the York River. On the trail I met two superb -little Canadian lads--straight, swarthy, handsome fellows. They -couldn't speak English. 'You must be French,' I suggested, addressing -the elder by way of compliment in that tongue. Imagine my surprise when -he answered with perfect composure, 'Non, monsieur. Nous sommes des -sauvages!'" - -"For my part," said Imogene, "I am always glad to hear Doctor Bryson -defend families and motherhood. I don't care how savage he gets." - -"I defend motherhood because to me it is the highest state of womanhood. -Merely as an instinct, its mysteries are a never-ending marvel." - -Lottie Nelson looked patiently bored. "Oh, tell us about them, do, -doctor." - -"I will tell you of one," returned Bryson undismayed. "Take the young -mother that brings her first child into the world; from the day of its -birth until the day of that mother's death, her child is never wholly -out of her thought. The child may die, may be forgotten by every one -else on earth, may be to all other conscious existence in this world as -a thing that never was. But in its mother's heart it never dies. I -call that a mystery." - -The doctor's glance as he finished fell on Alice's face. He was sorry -at once that he had spoken at all. Her eyes were fixed on him with a -look of acute pain. - -Alice hardly knew Doctor Bryson, but what he saw in the sadness of her -face he quite understood. And though they had never met, other than in -a formal way, he never afterward felt that they were wholly strangers. - - - - - CHAPTER XXIV - - -"By the way, Nelson," said De Castro, "what is there in this story in -the afternoon papers about Doane and Dora Morgan?" - -"It is substantially true, I fancy. They have eloped." - -"From whom could they possibly be eloping?" asked Lottie. - -"Why, you must know Doane has a wife and two little girls," exclaimed -Dolly indignantly. - -"I supposed his wife was divorced," returned Lottie helplessly. "Why -wasn't she?" - -"Perhaps," suggested Fritzie, "there wasn't time." - -"I don't care; Dora's life has been a very unhappy one," persisted -Lottie, "and frankly I am sorry for her." - -"Even though she has run away with another woman's husband," said -Imogene. - -"Don't _you_ think she deserves a great deal of sympathy, Robert?" asked -Lottie, appealing to Kimberly. - -"I can't say that I do," he answered slowly. "What moves one in any -consideration of a situation of that kind is, in the first place, the -standards of those that fall into it. Who, for instance, can scrape up -any interest in the affairs of the abandoned? Or of those who look on -irregular relations pretty much as they do on regular? People to enlist -sympathy in their troubles must respect themselves." - -The conversation drifted and Alice, within range of both tables, caught -snatches of the talk at each. She presently heard Lottie Nelson -speaking petulantly, and as if repeating a question to Kimberly. "What -_do_ men most like, Robert?" Alice could not see Kimberly's face, but -she understood its expression so well that she could imagine the brows -either luminously raised if Kimberly were interested, or patiently flat -if he were not. - -"You ought to know," she heard Kimberly answer. "You have been very -successful in pleasing them." - -"And failed where I have most wanted to succeed. Oh, no. I am asking -you. What _do_ they like?" - -The answer halted. "I can't tell you. To me, of course, few men seem -worth pleasing." - -"What should you do to please a man, if you were a woman?" - -"Nonsense." - -"I'm asking purely out of curiosity," persisted Lottie. "I have failed. -I realize it and I shall never try again. But at the end--I'd like to -know." - -"You probably would not agree with me," answered Kimberly after a -silence, "most women would not. Perhaps it would fail with most -men--but as I say, most men wouldn't interest me, anyway. If I had it -to try, I would appeal to a man's highest nature." - -"What is his highest nature?" - -"Whatever his best instincts are," - -"And then?" - -"That's all." - -"Oh, nonsense!" - -"No, it isn't nonsense. Only I am not good at analyzing. If I once -caught a man in that way I should know I had him fast forever. There is -absolutely no use in flinging your mere temptations at him. Keep those -quietly in the background. He will go after them fast enough when you -have made sure of him on the higher plane. If you are compelled to -display your temptations at the start, the case is hopeless. You have -surrendered your advantage of the high appeal. Trust him to think about -the other side of it, Lottie. You can't suggest to him anything he -doesn't know, and perhaps--I'm not sure--he prefers to turn to that side -when he thinks you are not looking. The difficulty is," he concluded, -speaking slowly, "even if you get him from the lower side, he won't stay -hooked. You know how a salmon strikes at a fly? All human experience -shows that a man hooked from the side of his lower instincts, will -sooner or later shake the bait." - -"It must be something even to have him on the hook for a while, Robert." - -"But you don't agree with me." - -"No." - -"No doubt, I'm wrong. And it isn't, I suppose, of much consequence -whether the men stay caught or not. I look at it, probably, with a -business instinct. When I do anything, I want it to stay done forever. -When I make a deal or fasten a point I want it to stay fastened for all -time. That is my nature. Now, that may not be a woman's nature. You -shouldn't have asked me, don't you see, because we 'begin' differently." - -"I fancy that's it, Robert. We 'begin' differently." - -"Try another seer--there is De Castro. Here is Mrs. MacBirney. Mrs. -MacBirney," Kimberly moved so he could command Alice's attention, "Mrs. -Nelson is trying to find out what a man likes in a woman. I haven't -been able to tell her----" - -"It isn't that at all," smiled Lottie, wearily. "Mr. Kimberly can tell. -He won't." - -Kimberly appealed to Alice. "It is a great mistake not to trust your -oracle when he is doing his best--don't you think so, Mrs. MacBirney?" - -"I suppose an oracle is consulted on his reputation--and it is on his -reputation that his clients should rely," suggested Alice. - -"Anyway," declared Lottie, rising, "I am going to try another." - -Kimberly turned his chair as she walked away so that he could speak to -Alice. "Giving advice is not my forte. Whenever I attempt it I -disappoint somebody; and this time I had a difficult subject. Mrs. -Nelson wants to know what men like in women. A much more interesting -subject would be, what women like in men. I should suppose, in my -blundering way, that sincerity would come before everything else, Mrs. -MacBirney. What do you think?" - -"Sincerity ought to be of value." - -"But there is a great deal else, you imply." - -"Necessarily, I should think." - -"As, for instance?" - -"Unselfishness among other things," said Alice. - -He objected frankly to her suggestion. "I don't know about -unselfishness. I have my doubts about unselfishness. Are you sure?" - -"Most ideals include it, I believe." - -"I don't know that I have any ideals--abstract ideals, that is. Though -I once took quite an interest in the Catholic Church." - -"An academic interest." - -"No, no; a real and concrete interest. I admire it greatly. I tried -once to look into its claims. What in part discouraged me was the -unpleasant things Catholics themselves told me about their church." - -"They must have been bad Catholics." - -"I don't know enough about them to discriminate between the good and the -bad. What, by the way," he asked bluntly, "are you--a good Catholic or -a bad one?" - -She was taken for an instant aback; then she regarded him with an -expression he did not often see in her eyes. "I am a bad one, I am -ashamed to say." - -"Then these I speak of must have been good ones," he remarked at once, -"because they were not in the least like you." - -If he thought he had perplexed her he was soon undeceived. "There are -varying degrees even of badness," she returned steadily. "I hope I -shall never fall low enough to speak slightingly of my faith." - -"I don't understand," he persisted, musing, "why you should fall at all. -Now, if I were a Catholic I should be a good one." - -"Suppose you become one." - -He disregarded her irony. "I may sometime. To be perfectly frank, what -I found most lacking when I looked into the question was some sufficient -inducement. Of what use? I asked myself. If by following Christianity -and its precepts a man could make himself anything more than he -is--prolong his years, or recall his youth. If he could achieve the -Titanic, raise himself to the power of a demigod!" Kimberly's eyes -shone wide at the thought, then they closed to a contrasting torpor. -"Will religion do this for any one? I think not. But fancy what that -would mean; never to grow old, never to fall ill, never to long for -without possessing!" A disdainful pride was manifest in every word of -his utterance, but he spoke with the easy-mannered good-nature that was -his characteristic. - -"A man that follows the dreams of religion," he resumed but with -lessening assurance, for Alice maintained a silence almost contemptuous -and he began to feel it, "is he not subject to the same failures, the -same pains, the same misfortunes that we are subject to? Even as the -rest of us, he must grow old and fail and die." - -"Some men, of course," she suggested with scant patience, "should have a -different dispensation from the average mortal." - -Kimberly squirmed dissentingly. "I don't like that phrase, 'the average -mortal.' It has a villainously hackneyed sound, don't you think? No, -for my part I should be willing to let everybody in on the greater, the -splendid dispensation." - -"You might be sorry if you did." - -"You mean, there are men that should die--some that should die early?" - -"There are many reasons why it might not work." - -He stopped. "That is true--it might not work, if universally applied. -It would do better restricted to a few of us. But no matter; since we -can't have it at all, we must do the best we can. And the way to beat -the game as it must be played in this world at present," he continued -with contained energy, "is to fight for what we want and defend it when -won, against all comers. Won't you wish me success in such an effort, -Alice?" - -"I have asked you not to call me Alice." - -"But wish me the success, won't you? It's awfully up-hill work fighting -alone. Two together can do so much better. With two the power is -raised almost to the infinite. Together we could be gods--or at least -make the gods envy us." - -She looked at him an instant without a word, and rising, walked to an -anteroom whither MacBirney, Lottie Nelson, De Castro, and Fritzie had -gone to play at cards. - - - - - CHAPTER XXV - - -When the season was fairly open the Kimberlys made Alice the recipient -of every attention. A solidarity had always seemed, in an unusual -degree, to animate the family. They were happy in their common -interests and their efforts united happily now to make Alice a favored -one in their activities. - -In everything proposed by Dolly or Imogene, Alice was consulted. When -functions were arranged, guests lists were submitted to her. -Entertainment was decided upon after Alice had been called in. The -result was a gay season even for Second Lake. And Dolly said it was the -influx of Alice's new blood into the attenuated strain at the lake that -accounted for the successful summer. Alice herself grew light-hearted. -In social affairs the battalions inclined to her side. Even Lottie -Nelson could not stand out and was fain to make such peace as she could. - -In all of this Alice found consolation for the neglect of her husband. -She had begun to realize that this neglect was not so much a slight, -personal to her, as a subordination of everything to the passion for -money-getting. It is impossible to remain always angry and Alice's -anger subsided in the end into indifference as to what her husband said -or did. - -She had, moreover--if it were a stimulus--the continual stimulus of -Kimberly's attitude. Without insincerity or indifference he accommodated -his interest in her to satisfactory restraint. This gave Alice the -pleasure of realizing that her firmness had in nowise estranged him and -that without being turbulent he was always very fond of her. She knew he -could look to many other women for whatever he chose to ask of favor, -yet apparently he looked to her alone for his pleasure in womankind; and -in a hundred delicate ways he allowed her to feel this. - -A handsome young Harvard man came to her at the lake seeking an opening -in the refineries. His people were former Colorado acquaintances whom -Alice was extremely desirous of obliging. She entertained her visitor -and tried vainly to interest her husband in him. MacBirney promised but -did nothing, and one day Dolly calling at Cedar Lodge found Alice -writing a note to the college boy, still waiting in town on MacBirney's -empty promises, telling him of the failure of her efforts and advising -him not to wait longer. - -"But why worry?" asked Dolly, when Alice told her. "Speak to Robert -about it. He will place him within twenty-four hours." - -"I can't very well ask a favor of that kind from Mr. Kimberly, Dolly." - -"What nonsense! Why not?" - -Alice could not say precisely why. "After my own husband hasn't found a -way to place him!" she exclaimed. - -Dolly did not hesitate. "I will attend to it. Give me his address. -Football, did you say? Very good." - -Within a week the young man wrote Alice--from the Orange River -refineries, where he was, he picturesquely said, knee-deep in -sugar--that he had actually been before the sugar magnate, Robert -Kimberly himself, adding with the impetuous spelling of a football man, -that the interview had been so gracious and lasted so long he had grown -nervous about the time Mr. Kimberly was giving him. - -Kimberly never referred to the matter nor did Alice ever mention it to -him. It was merely pleasant to think of. And in such evidences as the -frequent letters from her protégé she read her influence over the man -who, even the chronicle of the day could have told her, had she needed -the confirmation, extorted the interest of the world in which he moved; -and over whom, apparently, no woman other than herself could claim -influence. - -She came tacitly to accept this position toward Kimberly. Its nature -did not compromise her conscience and it seemed in this way possible -both to have and not have. She grew to lean upon the thought of him as -one of the consoling supports in her whirling life--the life in which -reflection never reached conclusion, action never looked forward to -result, and denial had neither time nor place. - -The pursuit of pleasure, sweetened by that philanthropy and the -munificent almsgiving which was so esteemed by those about her, made up -her life. Alice concluded that those of her circle severely criticised -by many who did not know them, did much good. Their failings, -naturally, would not condemn them with critics who, like herself, came -in contact with them at their best. - -Some time after the placing of the young college man, Alice, running in -one morning on Dolly found her in tears. She had never before seen -Dolly even worried and was at once all solicitude. For one of the very -few times in her life, it appeared, Dolly had clashed with her brother -Robert. Nor could Alice get clearly from her what the difference had -been about. All that was evident to Alice was that Dolly was very much -grieved and mortified over something Kimberly had said or done, or -refused to say or do, concerning a distinguished actress who upon -finishing an American tour was to be entertained by Dolly. - -Alice in the afternoon was over at Imogene's. Robert Kimberly was there -with his brother. Afterward he joined Imogene and Alice under the elms -and asked them to drive. While Imogene went in to make ready Alice -poured a cup of tea for Kimberly. "I suppose you know you have made -Dolly feel very bad," she said with a color of reproach. - -Kimberly responded with the family prudence. "Have I?" Alice handed him -the tea and he asked another question. "What, pray, do you know about -it?" - -"Nothing at all except that she is hurt, and that I am sorry." - -"She didn't tell you what the difference was?" - -"Except that it concerned her coming guest." - -"I offered Dolly my yacht for her week. She wanted me to go with the -party. Because I declined, she became greatly incensed." - -"She thought, naturally, you ought to have obliged her." - -"I pleaded I could not spare the time. She has the Nelsons and enough -others, anyway." - -"Her answer, of course, is that your time is your own." - -"But the fact is, her guest made the request. Dolly without consulting -me promised I would go, and now that I will not she is angry." - -"I should think a week at sea would be a diversion for you." - -"To tag around a week in heavy seas with wraps after a person of -distinction? And pace the deck with her on damp nights?" - -"That is unamiable. She is a very great actress." - -Kimberly continued to object. "Suppose she should be seasick. I once -went out with her and she professed to be ill every morning. I had to -sit in her cabin--it was a stuffy yacht of De Castro's--and hold her -hand." - -"But you are so patient. You would not mind that." - -"Oh, no; I am not in the least patient. The Kimberlys are described as -patient when they are merely persistent. If I am even amiable, -amiability is something quite other than patience. Patience is almost -mysterious to me. Francis is the only patient man I ever have known." - -"In this case you are not even amiable. We all have to do things we -don't want to do, to oblige others. And Dolly ought to be obliged." - -"Very well. If you will go, I will. What do you say?" - -"You need not drag me in. I shall have guests of my own next week. If -Dolly made a mistake about your inclination in the affair it would be -only generous to help her out." - -"Very well, I will go." - -"Now you are amiable." - -"They can put in at Bar Point and I will join them for the last two -days. I will urge McEntee, the captain, to see that they are all sick, -if possible, before I come aboard. Then they will not need very much -entertaining." - -"How malicious!" - -"Not a bit. Dolly is a good sailor. Her guest cares nothing for me. -It is only to have an American at her heels." - -"They say that no one can resist her charm. You may not escape it this -time." - -A fortnight passed before any news came to Alice from the yachting -party. Then Fritzie came home from Nelsons' one day with an interesting -account of the trip. Until the story was all told, Alice felt gratified -at having smoothed over Dolly's difficulty. - -"They were gone longer than they expected," said Fritzie. "Robert was -having such a good time. Lottie Nelson tells me Dolly's guest made the -greatest sort of a hit with Robert. He didn't like her at first. Then -she sang a song that attracted him, and he kept her singing that song -all the time. He sat in a big chair near the piano and wouldn't move. -The funny thing was, she was awfully bored the way he acted. By the -way, you must not miss the golf to-morrow. Everybody will be out." - -Alice hardly heard the last words. She was thinking about Kimberly's -entertaining the celebrity. Every other incident of the voyage had been -lost upon her. When she found herself alone her disappointment and -resentment were keen. Some unaccountable dread annoyed her. He was -then, she reflected, like all other men, filled with mere professions of -devotion. - -Something more disturbed her. The incident revealed to her that he had -grown to be more in her thoughts than she realized. Racks and -thumb-screws could not have dragged from her the admission that she was -interested in him. It was enough that he professed to be devoted to her -and had been led away by the first nod of another woman. - - - - - CHAPTER XXVI - - -The golf course and the casino were crowded next day when Alice arrived. -Yet among the throng of men and women, her interest lay only in the -meeting of one, as in turn his interest in all the summer company lay -only in seeking Alice. She had hardly joined Imogene and the lake -coterie when Kimberly appeared. - -The players had driven off and the favorites, of whom there were many, -could already be trailed across the hills by their following. When the -"out" score had been posted, De Castro suggested that the party go down -to the tenth hole to follow the leaders in. - -A sea-breeze tempered the sunshine and the long, low lines of the -club-house were gayly decorated. Pavilions, spread here and there among -the trees, gave the landscape a festival air. - -On the course, the bright coloring of groups of men and women moving -across the fields made a spectacle changing every moment in brilliancy. - -Kimberly greeted Alice with a gracious expectancy. He was met with a -lack of response nothing less than chilling. Surprised, though fairly -seasoned to rebuffs, and accepting the unexpected merely as a -difficulty, Kimberly set out to be entertaining. - -His resource in this regard was not scanty but to-day Alice succeeded in -taxing his reserves. In his half-mile tramp with her in the "gallery," -punctuated by occasional halts, he managed but once to separate her from -the others. The sun annoyed him. Alice was aware of his lifting his -straw hat frequently to press his handkerchief to beads of perspiration -that gathered on his swarthy forehead, but she extended no sympathy. - -In spite of his discomfort, however, his eyes flashed with their -accustomed spirit and his dogged perseverance in the face of her -coldness began to plead for itself. When the moving "gallery" had at -last left them for an instant behind, Kimberly dropped on a bench under -the friendly shade of a thorn apple tree. - -"Sit down a moment, do," he begged, "until I get a breath." - -"Do you find it warm?" - -"Not at all," he responded with negligible irony. "It is in some -respects uncommonly chilly." He spoke without the slightest petulance. -"For Heaven's sake, tell me what I have done!" - -"I don't know what you mean." - -"I mean, you are not kind in your manner toward me. I left you--I hoped -you would remember--to do a favor for you----" - -"For me?" Her tone was not in the least reassuring. - -"At least, I conceived it to be for you," he replied. - -"That is a mistake." - -"Very good. Let us call it mistake number one. I spent five days with -Dolly and her guests----" - -"Guests," repeated Alice, lingering slightly on the word, as she poked -the turf slowly with her sunshade, "or guest?" - -"Guest!" he echoed, "Ah!" He paused. "Who has put me wrong in so simple -a matter? What I did was no more than to be agreeable to Dolly's guests. -I spent much time with the guest of honor at Dolly's repeated requests. -She happened to sing a song that pleased me very much, for one -particular reason; it was your lovely little Italian air; I am not -ashamed to say it brought back pleasant moments. Since she could do -nothing else that was so pleasing," he continued, "I kept her singing -the song. She became bored and naturally ceased to be good-natured. -Then, Dolly asked me to run around by Nantucket, which we could have -done in two days. Not to be churlish, I consented. Then the coal gave -out, which took another day." - -"What a mishap! Well, I am glad to hear the trip went pleasantly." - -"If you are, something has gone wrong with you----" - -"Nothing whatever, I can assure you." - -"You are offended with me." - -"I assure you I am not." - -"I assure you, you are." He took the sunshade from her hand. "You -remember the fable about the man that tried to oblige everybody? He -wasn't a refiner--he was a mere miller. At the start I really did my -best for three days to entertain Dolly's lovely vampire and at the end -of that time she made a face at me--and wound up by telling Dolly my -head was full of another woman. Then--to be quite shamefully frank--I -had to dodge Lottie Nelson's apologies for her unpleasant temper on an -evening that you remember; altogether my lot was not a happy one. My -head was full of another woman. You remember you said nobody could -resist her charm? I thought of it. What is charm? I often asked -myself. I saw nothing of charm in that charming woman. Who can define -it? But penetration! She could read you like a printed book. We talked -one night of American women. I dared to say they were the loveliest in -the world. She grew incensed. 'They know absolutely nothing!' she -exclaimed. 'That is why we like them' I answered. 'They are innocent; -you are as corrupt as I am.' Then she would call me a hypocrite." He -stopped suddenly and Alice felt his eyes keenly upon her. "Is it -possible you do not believe what I am saying?" - -"Innocent women believe whatever they are told." - -"I don't deserve sarcasm. I am telling the simple truth. For once I am -wholly at fault, Alice. I don't know what the matter is. _What_ has -happened?" - -"Nothing has happened; only to-day I seem especially stupid." - -"Are you as frank with me as I am with you?" - -She made no answer. He drew back as if momentarily discouraged. "If -you no longer believe me--what can I do?" - -"It isn't at all that I do not believe you--what difference should it -make whether or no I believe you? Suppose I were frank enough to admit -that something I heard of you had disappointed me a little. What credit -should I have for commenting on what in no way concerns me?" - -"Anything heard to my discredit should be carefully received. Believe -the best of me as long as you can. It will never be necessary, Alice, -for any one to tell you I am unworthy; when that day comes you will know -it first from me. And if I ever am unworthy, it will not be because I -willed to be--only because through my baseness I never could know what -it means to be worthy of a woman far above me." - -She reached out her hand for her sunshade but he refused to give it -back. She tried to rise; he laid his hand on her arm. "A moment! It -was about me, was it?" he continued. "Did you receive it cautiously? -Put me in your position. How do you think one would fare who came to me -with anything to your discredit? Think of it, Alice--how do you think -one would fare--look at me." - -She looked up only for an instant and as if in protest. But in spite of -herself something in her own eyes of confidence in him, some tribute to -his honesty, stood revealed, and inspired him with a new courage. - -"You say what you hear of me does not concern you. Anything you hear of -me does concern you vitally." His intensity frightened her, and -thinking to escape him, she still sat motionless. - -"Everything I do, important or trivial, has its relation to you. Do you -believe me? Alice, you must believe me. You do believe me. How can -you say that anything you hear of me does not concern you? It concerns -you above every living person. It concerns your happiness----" - -"Such wildness--such extravagance!" she exclaimed trying to control her -fear. - -"I tell you I am neither wild nor extravagant. Our happiness, our very -lives are bound up together. It isn't that I say to you, you are -mine--I am yours." - -The furious beating of her heart would not be stilled. "How can you say -such things!" - -"I say them because I can't escape your influence in my life. I only -want to come up to where you are--not to drag you down to where I am--to -where I have been condemned to be from the cradle. If what you hear of -me conflicts with what I say to you, believe nothing of what you hear." -His words fell like blows. "If I could show you my very heart I could -not be more open. It is you who are everything to me--you alone." - -Breathless and rigid she looked away. Hardly breathing himself, -Kimberly watched her. Her lip quivered. "Oh, my heart!" he murmured. -But in the words she heard an incredible tenderness. It moved her where -intensity had failed. It stilled the final pangs of revolt at his words. -She drifted for an instant in a dream. New and trembling thoughts woke -in a reluctant dawn and glowed in her heart like faint, far streamers of -a new day. - -"Oh, my heart!" The words came again, as if out of another world. She -felt her hand taken by a strong, warm hand. "Do you tremble for me? Is -my touch so heavy? How shall I ever safeguard the flower of your -delicacy to my clumsiness?" - -She neither breathed nor moved. "No matter. You will teach me how, -Alice. Learning how you can be happiest, I shall be happiest. I feel -beggared when I lay my plea before you. What are all my words unless -you breathe life upon them? A few things--not many--I have succeeded -in. And I succeeded," the energy of success echoed in his confession, -"only because I let nothing of effort stand between me and the goal. -You have never been happy. Let me try to succeed with your happiness." - -A silence followed, golden as the moment. Neither felt burdened. About -them was quiet and the stillness seemed to flow from the hush of their -thoughts. - -"It is easy for you to speak," she faltered at last, "too easy for me to -listen. I am unhappy--so are many women; many would be strong enough -never to listen to what you have said. I myself should be if I were -what you picture me. And that is where all the trouble lies. You -mistake me; you picture to yourself an Alice that doesn't exist. If I -could return your interest I should disappoint you. I am not -depreciating myself to extort compliments--you would supply them easily, -I know. Only--I know myself better than you know me." - -"What you say," he responded, "might have point if I were a boy--it -would have keen point. While to me your beauty--do not shake your head -despairingly--your beauty is the delicacy of girlhood, you yourself are -a woman. You have known life, and sorrow. I cannot lead you as a fairy -once led you from girlhood into womanhood--would that I could have done -it! He should be a very tender guide who does that for a woman. - -"But I can lead you, I think, Alice, to everything in this world that -consoles a woman for what she gives to it. Do not say I do not know -you--that is saying I do not know myself, men, women, life--it is saying -I know nothing. Modest as I am," he smiled lightly, "I am not yet ready -to confess to that. I do know; as men that have lived and tasted and -turned away and longed and waited, know--so I know you. And I knew from -the moment I saw you that all my happiness in this world must come from -you." - -"Oh, I am ashamed to hear you say that. I am ashamed to hear you say -anything. What base creature am I, that I have invited you to speak!" -She turned and looked quickly at him, but with fear and resolve in her -eyes. "This you must know, here and now, that I can never be, not if -you kill me, another Dora Morgan." - -He met her look with simple frankness. "The world is filled with Dora -Morgans. If you could be, Alice, how could I say to you what I never -have said, or thought of saying, to any Dora Morgan?" - -"To be a creature would kill me. Do not be deceived--I know." - -"Or do worse than kill you. No, you are like me. There is no half-way -for you and me. Everything--or nothing!" - -She rose to her feet. He saw that she supported herself for a moment -with one hand still on the bench rail. He took her other hand within -his own and drew her arm through his arm. - -It was the close of the day. The sun, setting, touched the hills with -evening, and below the distant Towers great copses of oak lay like -islands on the mirrored landscape. They walked from the bench slowly -together. "Just a little help for the start," he murmured playfully as -he kept her at his side. "The path is a new one. I shall make it very -easy for your feet." - - - - - CHAPTER XXVII - - -"I hope you rested well after your excitement," said Kimberly to Alice, -laughing reassuringly as he asked. It was the day following their -parting at the golf grounds. He had driven over to Cedar Lodge and -found Alice in the garden waiting for Dolly. The two crossed the -terrace to a sheltered corner of the garden overlooking the bay where -they could be alone. After Alice had seated herself Kimberly repeated -his question. - -She regarded him long and thoughtfully as she answered, and with a -sadness that was unexpected: "I did not rest at all. I do not even yet -understand--perhaps I never shall--why I let you talk to me in that -wild, wild way. But if I did not rest last night, I thought. I am to -blame--I know that--as much as you are. Don't tell me. I am as much to -blame as you are. But this cannot go on." - -His eyes were upon her hands as they lay across flowers in her lap. He -took a spray from her while she spoke and bent his look upon it. She -was all in white and he loved to see her in white. In it she fulfilled -to him a dream of womanhood. "I ought to ask you what you mean when you -say and think these fearful things," she went on, waiting for him to -lift his eyes. "I ought to ask you; but you do not care what it means, -at least as far as you are concerned. And you never ask yourself what -it means as far as I am concerned." - -He replied with no hesitation. "I began asking myself that question -almost the first time I ever saw you. I have asked myself nothing else -ever since. It means for both of us exactly the same thing; for you, -everything you can ask that I can give you; for me, everything I can -give you that you can ask." - -"If there were no gulf between us--but there is. And even if what you -say were true, you can see how impossible it would be for me to say -those words back to you." - -He looked at the spray. "Quite true; you cannot. But I shall ask so -little--less of you than of any woman in the world. And you will give -only what you can, and when you can. And you alone are to be the judge -of what you can give and when, until our difficulties are worked out. - -"I shall only show you now that I _can_ be patient. I never have -been--I have confessed to that. Now I am going to the test. Meantime, -you don't realize, Alice, quite, how young you are, do you? Nor how -much in earnest I am. Let us turn to that for a while." - -From a shrub at his side he plucked sprigs of rosemary and crushed them -with the spray. "Even love never begins but once. So, for every hour -that passes, a memory; for every hour that tarries, a happiness; for -every hour that comes, a hope. Do you remember?" - -"I read it on your sun-dial." - -"Every one may read it there. Where I want you to read it is in my -heart." - -"I wonder whether it is most what you say, or the way in which you say -it, that gets people into trouble?" - -"On the contrary; my life has been spent in getting people out of -trouble, and in waiting to say things to you." - -"You are improving your opportunity in that respect. And you are losing -a still more delightful opportunity, for you don't know how much relief -you can give me by leaving most of them unsaid." - -"It is impossible, of course, to embrace all of our opportunities--often -impossible to embrace the cause of them." - -"Don't pick me up in that way, please." - -He held his hands over hers and dropped the crushed rosemary on them. -"Would that I could in any way. Since I cannot, let me annoy you." - -Dolly appeared at a distance, and they walked down the terrace to meet -her. She kissed Alice. "What makes you look so girlish to-day? And -what is all this color around your eyes? Never wear anything but white. -I never should myself," sighed Dolly. "You know Alice and I are off for -the seashore," she added, turning to her brother. - -"So I hear." - -"Come along." - -"Who is going?" - -"Everybody, I suppose. They all know about the trip." - -"Where do you dine?" - -"On the shore near the light-house. Arthur is bringing some English -friends out from town; we are going to dance." - -That night by the sea Kimberly and Alice danced together. He held her -like a child, and his strength, which for a moment startled her, was a -new charm when she glided across the long, half-lighted floor within his -arm. Her grace responded perfectly to the ease with which he led, and -they, stopped only when both were breathing fast, to stroll out on the -dark pier and drink in the refreshment of the night wind from the ocean. - -They remained out of doors a long time, talking sometimes, laughing -sometimes, walking sometimes, sometimes sitting down for a moment or -kneeling upon the stone parapet benches to listen to the surf pounding -below them. When they went in, he begged her again to dance. Not -answering in words she only lifted her arm with a smile. Making their -way among those about them they glided, he in long, undulating steps, -she retreating in swift, answering rhythm, touching the floor as lightly -as if she trod on air. - -"This plume in your hat," he said as they moved on and on to the low, -sensuous strains of the music, "it nods so lightly. Where do you carry -your wings?" - -The very effort of speaking was exhilarating. "It is you," she answered, -"who are supplying the wings." - -The gayety of the others drew them more closely together. Little -confidences of thought and feeling--in themselves nothing, in their -unforbidden exchange everything--mutual confessions of early impressions -each of the other, compliments more eagerly ventured and ignored now -rather than resented. Surprise read in each other's eyes, dissent not -ungracious and denial that only laughingly denied--all went to feed a -secret happiness growing fearfully by leaps and bounds into ties that -never could be broken. - -The dance with its exhilaration, the plunging of her pulse and her -quick, deep breathing, shone in Alice's cheeks and in her eyes. The two -laughed at everything; everything colored their happiness because -everything was colored by it. - -The party drove home after a very late supper, Alice heavily wrapped and -beside Dolly in Kimberly's car. Entertainments for the English party -followed for a week and were wound up by Kimberly with an elaborate -evening for them at The Towers. For the first time in years the big -house was dressed _en fête_ and the illuminations made a picture that -could be seen as far as the village. - -Twenty-four sat at The Towers round table that night. Alice herself -helped Dolly to pair the guests and philosophically assigned her husband -to Lottie Nelson. Kimberly complimented her upon her arrangement. - -"Why not?" she asked simply, though not without a certain bitterness -with which she always spoke of her husband. "People with tastes in -common seem to drift together whether you pair them or not." - -They were standing in an arbor and Kimberly was plucking grapes for her. - -"He is less than nothing to me," she continued, "as you too well -know--or I should not be here now eating your grapes." - -"Your grapes, Alice. Everything here is yours. I haven't spoken much -about our difficulties--'our' difficulties! The sweetness of the one -word blots out the annoyance of the other. But you must know I shall -never rest until you are installed here with all due splendor as -mistress, not alone of the grapes, but of all you survey, for this is to -be wholly and simply yours. And if I dare ask you now and here, -Alice--you whose every breath is more to me than the thought of all -other women--I want you to be my wife." - -Her lips tightened. "And I am the wife of another man--it is horrible." - -He heard the tremor in her tone. "Look at me." - -"I cannot look at you." - -"When you are free----" - -"Free!" Her voice rising in despair, fell again into despair. "I shall -never be free." - -"You shall, and that speedily, Alice!" She could imagine the blood -surging into Kimberly's neck and face as he spoke. "I am growing -fearful that I cannot longer stand the thought of his being under the -same roof with you." - -"He cannot even speak to me except before Annie." - -Kimberly paused. "I do not like it. I want it changed." - -"How can I change it?" - -"We shall find a way, and that very soon, to arrange your divorce from -him." - -"It is the one word, the one thought that crushes me." She turned -toward him as if with a hard and quick resolve. "You know I am a -Catholic, and you know I am ashamed to say it." - -"Ashamed?" - -"I have disgraced my faith." - -"Nonsense, you are an ornament to any faith." - -"Do not say that!" She spoke with despairing vehemence. "You don't -realize how grotesque it sounds. If what you say were true I should not -be here." - -He drew himself up. There was a resentful note in his tone. "I did not -suppose myself such a moral leper that it would be unsafe for any one to -talk to me. Other Catholics--and good ones--talk to me, and apparently -without contamination." - -"It is only that _I_ have no right to. Now you are going to be angry -with me." - -He saw her eyes quiver. "God forbid! I misunderstood. And you are -sensitive, dearest." - -"I am sensitive," she said reluctantly. "More than ever, perhaps, since -I have ceased practising my religion." - -"But why have you ceased?" - -Her words came unwillingly. "I could not help it." - -"Why could you not help it?" - -"You ask terribly hard questions." - -"You must have wanted to give it up." - -"I did not want to. I was forced to." - -"Who could force you?" - -He saw what an effort it cost her to answer. The words were dragged from -her. "I could not live with my husband and practise it." - -"So much the more reason for quitting him, isn't it?" - -"Oh, I want to. I want to be free. If I only could." - -"Alice, you speak like one in despair. There is nothing to be so -stirred about. You want to be free, I want you to be, you shall be. -Don't get excited over the matter of a divorce. Your eyes are like -saucers at the thought. Why?" - -"Only because for me it is the final disgrace--not to be separated from -him--but to marry again with him alive! It means the last step for me. -And the public scandal! What will they say of me, who knew me at home?" - -"Alice, this is the wildest supersensitiveness. The whole world lives in -divorced marriages. Public scandal? No one will ever hear of your -divorce. The courts that grant your plea will attend to suppressing -everything." - -"Not everything!" - -"Why not? We abase them every day to so many worse things that their -delicate gorges will not rise at a little favor like that." - -She looked at him gravely. "What does the world say of you for doing -such things?" - -"I never ask. You know, of course, I never pay any attention to what -the world says of anything I do. Why should I? It would be difficult -for the world to despise me as much as I despise it. You don't -understand the world. All you need is my strength. I felt that from -the very first--that if I could give you my strength the combination -would be perfect. That is why I am so helplessly in love with you--my -strength must be yours. I want to put you on a throne. Then I stand -by, see?--and guard your majesty with a great club. And I can do it." - -They laughed together, for he spoke guardedly, as to being heard of -others, but with ominous energy. "I believe you could," murmured Alice. - -"Don't worry over your religion. I will make you practise it. I will -make a devotee of you." - -"Robert! Robert!" - -He stooped for her hand and in spite of a little struggle would not -release it until he had kissed it. "Do you know it is the first time my -name has ever passed your lips?" he murmured. - -She was silent and he went on with another thought. "Alice, I don't -believe you are as bad a Catholic as you think. I'll tell you why. I -have known Catholic women, and men, too, that have given up their -religion. Understand, I know nothing about your religion, but I do know -something about men and women. And when they begin elaborate -explanations they think they deceive me. In matter of fact, they -deceive only themselves. When they begin to talk about progress, -freedom of thought, decay of dogmas, individual liberty and all that -twaddle, and assume a distinctly high, intellectual attitude, even -though I don't know what they have given up, I know what they are -assuming; I get their measure instantly. I've sometimes thought that -when God calls us up to speak on judgment day He will say in the most -amiable manner: 'Just tell your own story in your own way.' And that -our own stories, told in our own way, will be all the data He will need -to go ahead on. Indeed, He would not always need divine prescience to -see through them; in most cases mere human insight would be enough. -Just listen to the ordinary story of the ordinary man and notice how out -of his own mouth he condemns himself. I see that sort of posturing -every day in weak-kneed men and women who want to enlist large sums of -money to float magnificent schemes. Now you are honest with yourself -and honest with me, and I see in this a vital difference." - -They walked back through the garden and encountered Brother Francis who -was taking the air. Kimberly stopped him. Nelson and Imogene joined -the group. "Ah, Francis!" exclaimed Imogene, "have they caught you -saying your beads?" - -"Not this time, Mrs. Kimberly." - -"Come now, confess. What were you doing?" - -Brother Francis demurred and protested but there was no escape. He -pointed to The Towers. "I came out to see the beautiful illumination. -It is very beautiful, is it not?" - -"But that isn't all, for when we came along you were looking at the -sky." - -"Ah, the night is so clear--the stars are so strong to-night----" - -"Go on." - -"I was thinking of Italy." - - - - - CHAPTER XXVIII - - -"I never can catch Brother Francis, thinking of anything but Italy," -remarked Kimberly. - -"Who can blame him?" exclaimed Imogene. - -"Or the hereafter," added Kimberly. - -Nelson grunted. "I'm afraid he doesn't find much sympathy here on that -subject," he observed, looking from one to another. - -"Don't be mistaken, Nelson," said Kimberly, "_I_ think about it, and -Francis will tell you so. I have already made tentative arrangements -with him on that score. Francis is to play Lazarus to my Dives. When I -am in hell I am to have my cup of cold water from him. And remember, -Francis, if you love me, the conditions. Don't forget the conditions; -they are the essence of the contract. I am to have the water one drop -at a time. Don't forget that; one drop at a time. Eternity is a long, -long while." - -Francis, ill at ease, took a pinch of snuff to compose himself. - -"Your rôle doesn't seem altogether to your liking, Francis," suggested -Imogene. - -"His rôle! Why, it's paradise itself compared to mine," urged Kimberly. - -Brother Francis drew his handkerchief and wiped his nose very simply. -"I pray, Robert," he said, "that you may never be in hell." - -"But keep me in your eye, Francis. Don't relax your efforts. A sugar -man is liable to stumble and fall in while your back is turned." - -"We must get started for the lake," announced Imogene. "Brother -Francis, we are all going down to see The Towers from the water. Will -you come?" - -Francis excused himself, and his companions joined the other guests who -were gathering at the water. Oarsmen were waiting with barges and fires -burned from the pillars of the esplanade. As the boats left the shore, -music came across the water. Alice, with Kimberly, caught a glimpse of -her husband in a passing boat. "Having a good time?" he cried. For -answer she waved her hand. - -"Are you really having a good time?" Kimberly asked. "I mean, do you -care at all for this kind of thing?" - -"Of course, I care for it. Who could help it? It is lovely. Where are -we going?" - -"Down the lake a mile or two; then the boats will return for the -fireworks." - -"You don't seem very lively yourself to-night. Are you bored?" - -"No; only wondering whether you will go driving with me to-morrow." - -"I said I would not." - -"I hoped, of course, you might reconsider." - -He did not again press the subject of the drive, but when they were -walking up the hill after the rockets and showers of gold falling down -the dark sky, she told him he might come for her the next day. "I don't -know how it is," she murmured, "but you always have your own way. You -wind me right around your finger." - -He laughed. "If I do, it is only because I don't try to." - -"I realize it; that is what puzzles me." - -"The real secret is, not that I wind you around my finger, but that you -don't want to hurt my feelings. I find something to wonder at, too. -When I am with you--even when you are anywhere near me, I am totally -different. Alone, I am capable of withdrawing wholly within myself. I -am self-absorbed and concentrated. With you I am never wholly within -myself. I am, seemingly, partly in your consciousness." - -Alice shook her head. "It is true," he persisted. "It is one of the -consequences of love; to be drawn out of one's self. I have it." He -turned to her, questioningly, "Can you understand it?" - -"I think so." - -"But do you ever feel it?" - -"Sometimes." - -"Never, of course, for me?" - -"Sometimes." - - - - - CHAPTER XXIX - - -"This is a courtship without any spring," said Dolly one night to her -husband. They were discussing her brother and Alice. "At first it was -all winter, now it is all summer." - -She thought they showed themselves together too much in public, and -their careless intimacy was, in fact, outwardly unrestrained. - -Not that Dolly was censorious. Her philosophy found refuge in fatalism. -And since what is to be must be--especially where the Kimberlys were -concerned--why worry over the complications? Seemliness, however, Dolly -held, was to be regarded, and concerning this she felt she ought to be -consulted. The way to be consulted she had long ago learned was to find -fault. - -But if she herself reproved Kimberly and Alice, Dolly allowed no one -else to make their affairs a subject of comment. Lottie Nelson, who -could never be wholly suppressed, was silenced when occasion offered. -One afternoon at The Hickories, Alice's name being mentioned, Lottie -asked whether Robert was still chasing her. - -"Chasing her?" echoed Dolly contemptuously and ringing the changes on -the objectionable word, "Of course; why shouldn't he chase her? Who -else is there to chase? He loves the excitement of the hunt; and who -else around here is there to hunt? The other women hunt him. No man -wants anything that comes tumbling after him. What we want is what we -can't get; or at least what we're not sure of getting." - -Kimberly and Alice if not quite unconscious of comment were at least -oblivious of it. They motored a great deal, always at their own will, -and they accounted to no one for their excursions. - -"They are just a pair of bad children," said Imogene to Dolly. "And -they act like children." - -One of their diversions in their rambling drives was to stop children -and talk with them or ask questions of them. One day near Sunbury they -encountered a puny, skeleton-faced boy, a highway acquaintance, wheeling -himself along in an invalid chair. - -They had never hitherto talked with this boy and they now stopped their -car and backed up. Alice usually asked the questions. "I thought you -lived away at the other end of the village, laddie?" - -"Yes'm, I do." - -"You haven't wheeled yourself all this way?" - -"Yes'm." - -"What's the matter with you that you can't walk, Tommie?" demanded -Kimberly. - -"My back is broken." - -Alice made a sympathetic exclamation. "My dear little fellow--I'm very -sorry for you!" - -The boy smiled. "Oh, don't be sorry for me." - -"Not sorry for you?" - -"I have a pretty good time; it's my mother--I'm sorry for her." - -"Ah, indeed, your mother!" echoed Alice, struck by his words. "I am -sorry for both of you then. And how did you break your back?" - -"In our yard--climbing, ma'am." - -"Poor devil, he's not the first one that has broken his back climbing," -muttered Kimberly, taking a note from his waistcoat. "Give him -something, Alice." - -"As much as this?" cried Alice under her breath, looking at the note and -at Kimberly. - -"Why not? It's of no possible use to us, and it will be a nine-months' -wonder in that little household." - -Alice folded the note up and stretched her white-gloved hand toward the -boy. "Take this home to your mother." - -"Thank you. I can make little baskets," he added shyly. - -"Can you?" echoed Alice, pleased. "Would you make one for me?" - -"I will bring one up to your house if you want me to." - -"That would be too far! And you don't know where I live." - -The boy looked at the green and black car as if he could not be -mistaken. "Up at The Towers, ma'am." - -Brice, who took more than a mild interest in the situation, grinned -inwardly. - -Kimberly and Alice laughed together. "Very well; bring it to The -Towers," directed Kimberly, "I'll see that she gets it." - -"Yes, sir." - -"And see here; don't lose that note, Tommie. By Heavens, he handles -money more carelessly than I do. No matter, wait till his mother sees -it." - -While they were talking to the boy, Dolly drove up in her car and -stopped a moment to chat and scold. They laughed at her and she drove -away as if they were hopeless. - -"Your sister is the dearest woman," remarked Alice as Dolly's car -disappeared. "I am so fond of her, I believe I am growing like her." - -"Don't grow too like her." - -"Why not?" - -"Dolly has too much heart. It gets her into trouble." - -"She says you have too much, yourself." - -"I've paid for it, too; I've been in trouble." - -"And I shall be, if you don't take me home pretty soon." - -"Don't let us go home as long as we can go anywhere else," pleaded -Kimberly. "When we go home we are separated." - -He often attempted to talk with Alice of her husband. "Does he -persecute you in any way?" demanded Kimberly, trying vainly to get to -details. - -Alice's answer was always the same. "Not now." - -"But he used to?" Kimberly would persist. - -"Don't ask me about that." - -"If he ever should lay a hand on you, Alice----" - -"Pray, pray," she cried, "don't look like that. And don't get excited; -he is not going to lay a hand on me." - -They did not reach Cedar Lodge until sundown and when they drove up to -the house MacBirney, out from town, was seated on the big porch alone. -They called a greeting to him as they slowed up and he answered in kind. -Kimberly, without any embarrassment, got out to assist Alice from the -car. The courtesy of his manner toward her seemed emphasized in -MacBirney's presence. - -On this night, it was, perhaps, the picture of Kimberly standing at the -door of his own car giving his hand to MacBirney's wife to alight, that -angered the husband more than anything that had gone before. Kimberly's -consideration for Alice was so pronounced as completely to ignore -MacBirney himself. - -The small talk between the two when Alice alighted, the laughing -exchanges, the amiable familiarity, all seemed to leave no place in the -situation for MacBirney, and were undoubtedly meant so to be understood. -Kimberly good-humoredly proffered his attentions to that end and Alice -could now accept them with the utmost composure. - -Fritzie had already come over to Cedar Lodge from Imogene's for dinner -and Kimberly returned afterward from The Towers, talking till late in -the evening with MacBirney on business affairs. He then drove Fritzie -back to The Cliffs. - -MacBirney, smarting with the stings of jealousy, found no outlet for his -feeling until he was left alone with his wife. It was after eleven -o'clock when Alice, reading in her sitting-room, heard her husband try -the door connecting from his apartments. Finding it bolted, as usual, -MacBirney walked out on the loggia and came into her room through the -east door which she had left open for the sea-breeze. He was smoking -and he sat down on a divan. Alice laid her book on her knee. - -It was a moment before he spoke. "You seem to be making Kimberly a -pretty intimate member of the family," he began. - -"Oh, do you think so? Charles or Robert?" - -"You know very well who I mean." - -"If you mean Robert, he is a familiar in every family circle around the -lake. It is his way, isn't it? I don't suppose he is more intimate -here than at Lottie's, is he? Or at Dolly's or Imogene's?" - -"They are his sisters," returned MacBirney, curtly. - -"Lottie isn't. And I thought you wanted me rather to cultivate Robert, -didn't you, Walter?" asked Alice indifferently. - -He was annoyed to be reminded of the fact but made no reply. - -"Robert is a delightfully interesting man," continued Alice recklessly, -"don't you think so?" - -MacBirney returned to the quarrel from another quarter. "Do you know -how much money you have spent here at Cedar Lodge in the last four -months?" - -Alice maintained her composure. "I haven't an idea." - -He paused. "I will tell you how much, since you're so very superior to -the subject. Just twice as much as we spent the first five years we -were married." - -"Quite a difference, isn't it?" - -"It is--quite a difference. And the difference is reckless -extravagance. You seem to have lost your head." - -"Suppose it is reckless extravagance! What do you mean to say--that I -spent all the money? This establishment is of your choosing, isn't it? -And have you spent nothing? How do you expect to move in a circle of -people such as live around this lake without reckless extravagance?" - -"By using a little common-sense in your expenditures." - -For some moments they wrangled over various details of the ménage. -Alice at length cut the purposeless recrimination short. "You spoke of -the first five years we were married. You know I spent literally -nothing the first five years of our married life. You continually said -you were trying 'to build up.' That was your cry from morning till -night, and like a dutiful wife, I wore my own old clothes for the first -two years. Then the next three years I wore made-over hats and hunted -up ready-made suits to enable you to 'build up.'" - -"Yes," he muttered, "and we were a good deal happier then than we are -now." - -She made an impatient gesture. "Do speak for yourself, Walter. You -were happier, no doubt. I can't remember that you ever gave me any -chance to be happy." - -"Too bad about you. You look like a poor, unhappy thing--half-fed and -half-clothed." - -"Now that you have 'built up,'" continued Alice, "and brought me into a -circle not in the least of my choosing, and instructed me again and -again to 'keep our end up,' you complain of 'reckless extravagance.'" - -"Well, for a woman that I took with a travelling suit from a bankrupt -father, and put at the head of this establishment, you certainly can -hold your 'end up,'" laughed MacBirney harshly. - -"Just a moment," returned Alice, with angry eyes. "You need not taunt -me about my father. When you were measuring every day the sugar and -coffee we were to use during the first five years of our married life, -you should have foreseen you couldn't move as a millionaire among -multimillionaires without spending a lot of money." - -MacBirney turned white. "Thank you for reminding me," he retorted, with -shining teeth, "of the thrift of which you have since had the -advantages." - -"Oh dear, no, Walter. The advantages of that kind of thrift are purely -imaginary. The least spark of loving-kindness during those years would -have been more to me than all the petty meannesses necessary to build up -a fortune. But it is too late to discuss all this." - -MacBirney could hardly believe his ears. He rose hastily and threw -himself into another chair. "You've changed your tune mightily since -'the first five years of our married life,'" he said. - -Alice tossed her head. - -"But I want you to understand, _I_ haven't." - -"I believe that!" - -"And I've brought you to time before now, with all of your high airs, -and I'll do it again." - -"Oh, no; not again." - -"I'll teach you who is master under this roof." - -"How like the sweet first five years that sounds!" - -He threw his cigar angrily away. "I know exactly what's the matter with -you. You have run around with this lordly Kimberly till he has turned -your head. Now you are going to stop it, now and here!" - -"Am I?" - -"You are." - -"Hadn't you better tell Mr. Kimberly that?" - -"I will tell _you_, you are getting yourself talked about, and it is -going to stop. Everybody is talking about you." - -Alice threw back her head. "So? Where did you hear that?" - -"Lambert told me yesterday." - -"I hope you were manly enough to defend your wife. Where did you see -Lambert?" - -"I saw him in town." - -"I shouldn't listen to silly gossip from Lambert, and I shouldn't see -Lambert again." - -"How long have you been adviser as to whom I had better or better not -see?" asked MacBirney contemptuously. - -"You will find me a good adviser on some points in your affairs, and -that is one." - -"If you value your advice highly, you should part with it sparingly." - -"I know what _you_ value highly; and if Robert Kimberly finds out you -are consorting with Lambert it will end your usefulness in _his_ -combinations very suddenly." - -The thrust, severe in any event, was made keener by the fact that it -frightened him into rage. "Since you come from a family that has made -such a brilliant financial showing--" he began. - -"Oh, I know," she returned wearily, "but you had better take care." He -looked at his wife astounded. "You have insulted me enough," she added -calmly, "about the troubles of my father. The 'first five years' are at -an end. I have spoiled you, Walter, by taking your abuse so long -without striking back and I won't do it any more." - -"What do you mean?" he cried, springing from his chair. "Do you think -you are to keep your doors bolted against me for six months at a time -and then browbeat and abuse me when I come into your room to talk to -you? Who paid for these clothes you wear?" he demanded, pointing in a -fury. - -"I try never to think of that, Walter," replied Alice, rising to her -feet but controlling herself more than she could have believed possible. -"I try never to think of the price I have paid for anything I have; if I -did, I should go mad and strip these rags from my shoulders." - -She stood her ground with flashing eyes. "_I, not you_," she cried, -"have paid for what I have and the clothes I wear. _I_ paid for -them--not you--with my youth and health and hopes and happiness. I paid -for them with the life of my little girl; with all that a wretched woman -can sacrifice to a brute. Paid for them! God help me! How haven't I -paid for them?" - -She stopped for sheer breath, but before he could find words she spoke -again. "Now, I am done with you forever. I am out of your power -forever. Thank God, some one will protect me from your brutality for -the rest of my life----" - -MacBirney clutched the back of a chair. "So you have picked up a lover, -have you? This sounds very edifying from my dear, dutiful, religious -wife." Hardly able to form the words between his trembling lips, he -smiled horribly. - -She turned on him like a tigress. "No," she panted, "no! I am no -longer your religious wife. It wasn't enough that I should go shabby and -hungry to make you rich. Because I still had something left in my -miserable life to help me bear your cruelty and meanness you must take -that away too. What harm did my religion do you that you should -ridicule it and sneer at it and threaten and abuse me for it? You -grudged the few hours I took from your household drudgery to get to -church. You promised before you married me that our children should be -baptized in my faith, and then refused baptism to my dying baby." - -Her words rained on him in a torrent. "You robbed me of my religion. -You made me live in continual sin. When I pleaded for children, you -swore you would have no children. When I told you I was a mother you -cursed and villified me." - -"Stop!" he screamed, running at her with an oath. - -The hatred and suffering of years were compressed into her moment of -revolt. They flamed in her cheeks and burned in her eyes as she cried -out her choking words. "Stop me if you dare!" she sobbed, watching him -clench his fist. "If you raise your hand I will disgrace you publicly, -now, to-night!" - -He struck her. She disdained even to protect herself and crying loudly -for Annie fell backward. Her head caught the edge of the table from -which she had risen. - -Annie ran from the bedroom at the sound of her mistress's voice. But -when she opened the boudoir door, Alice was lying alone and unconscious -on the floor. - - - - - CHAPTER XXX - - -She revived only after long and anxious ministrations on Annie's part. -But with the return of her senses the blood surged again in her veins in -defiance of her husband. Her first thought was one of passionate hatred -of him, and the throbbing pain in her head from her fall against the -table served to sharpen her resentment. - -MacBirney, possessed of enough craft to slip away from an unpleasant -situation, returned early to town, only hoping the affair would blow -over, and still somewhat dazed by the amazing rebellion of an enduring -wife. - -He realized that a storm might break now at any moment over his head. -Always heavily committed in the speculative markets, he well understood -that if Kimberly should be roused to vengeance by any word from Alice -the consequences to his own fortune might be appalling. - -It chanced that Kimberly was away the following day and Alice had -twenty-four hours to let her wrath cool. Two days of reflection were -enough. The sense of her shame and her degradation as a woman at the -hands of a man so base as her husband were alone enough to suggest -moderation in speaking to Kimberly of the quarrel. - -But more than this was to be considered. What would Kimberly do if she -told him everything? A scandalous encounter, even a more serious issue -between the two men was too much to think of. She felt that Kimberly -was capable in anger of doing anything immoderate and it was better by -far, her calmer judgment told her, to bury her humiliation in her own -heart than to risk something worse. She was now, she well knew, with -this secret, a terror to her cowardly husband, just as he had been, -through a nightmare of wretched years, her own terror. - -For the first time, on the afternoon of the second day, she found -herself awaiting with burning impatience some word from The Towers. She -had resolved what to say to Kimberly and wanted now to say it quickly. -When the telephone bell rang promptly at four o'clock her heart dilated -with happiness; she knew the call came from one who never would fail -her. Alice answered the bell herself and her tones were never so -maddening in Kimberly's ears as when she told him, not only that he -might come, but that she was weary with waiting. She stood at the -window when his car drove up and tripped rapidly downstairs. When she -greeted him he bent down to kiss her hand. - -She did not resist his eagerness. She even drew a deep breath as she -returned his look, and having made ready for him with a woman's lovely -cunning, enjoyed its reward. - -"I've been crazy to see you," he cried. "It is two days, Alice. How -can I tell you how lovely you are?" - -Her eyes, cast down, were lifted to his when she made her confession. -"Do you really like this rig? It is the first toilet I ever made with -the thought of nobody but you in my head. So I told Annie" she -murmured, letting her hand rest on his coat sleeve, "to be sure I was -exactly right." - -He caught her hands. - -"Let's go into the garden," she said as he held them. "I have something -to say to you." - -They sat down together. "Something has happened since I saw you," she -began. - -"Has the break come?" demanded Kimberly instantly. - -"We had a very painful scene night before last," said Alice. "The break -has come. He has gone to town--he went yesterday morning. I have asked -myself many questions since then. My father and mother are dead. I -have no home to go to, and I will not live even under the same roof with -him any longer. I feel so strange. I feel turned out, though there was -nothing of that in what he said--indeed, I am afraid I did most of the -talking." - -"I wish to God I had heard you!" - -"It is better not. Every heart knoweth its own bitterness----" - -"Let me help bear yours." - -"I feel homeless, I feel so alone, so ashamed--I don't know what I don't -feel. You will never know what humiliation, what pain I have been -through for two days. Robert--" her voice faltered for an instant. -Then she spoke on, "I never can tell you of the sickness and shame I -have long felt of even pretending to live with some one I could not -respect." - -"Close the book of its recollection. I came into your life for just -such a moment, to be everything you need. I am home, husband, and -protection--everything." - -"If I could only make my senses believe my ears." She paused. "It -seems as if I am in a dream and shall wake with a horror." - -"No, this is a dream come true. I foresaw this time and I have provided -for it. Only delicacy has kept me from asking you before about your -very personal affairs and your private purse, Alice. Understand at -once," he took her hands vehemently, "everything I have is yours without -the least reserve. Do you understand? Money is the last thing to make -any one happy, I well know that, but in addition to the word of my heart -to your heart--the transfers to you, Alice, have long been made and at -this moment you have, merely waiting for you to draw upon them, more -funds than you could make use of in ten lifetimes. Everything is -provided for. There are tears in your eyes. Sit still for a moment and -let me speak." - -"No, I must speak. I am in a horrible position. I cannot at such a -juncture receive anything from you. But there are matters to be faced. -Shall I stay here? If I do, he must go. Shall I go? And if I do go, -where?" - -"Let me answer with a suggestion. My family are all devoted to us. -Dolly and Imogene are good counsellors. I will lay the matter before -them. After a family council we shall know just what to do and how. I -have my own idea; we shall see what the others say. Dolly, you know, -has taken you under her wing from the first, and Dolly you will find is -a powerful protector. If I tell you what I did to-day you will gasp -with astonishment. I cabled for a whole new set of photographs of the -Maggiore villa. I want our first year together, Alice, to be in Italy." - - - - - CHAPTER XXXI - - -Accompanied by Imogene, Dolly hastened over to Cedar Lodge in the -morning. Alice met them in the hall. "My dear," cried Dolly, folding -her impulsively in her arms, "you are charged with fate!" - -Then she drew back, laid her hands on Alice's shoulders and, bringing -her face tenderly forward, kissed her. "How can I blame Robert for -falling in love with you? And yet!" She turned to Imogene. "If we had -been told that first night that _this_ was the woman of our destiny! -How do you bear your new honors, dearie? What! Tears! Nonsense, my -child. You are freighted with the Kimberly hopes now. You are one of -us. Tears are at an end. I, too, cried when I first knew of it. Come, -sit down. Imogene will tell you everything." And having announced this -much, Dolly proceeded with the telling herself. - -"When you first knew of it?" echoed Alice. "Pray, when was that?" - -"Oh, long, long ago--before ever you did, my dear. But no matter now. -We talked last night, Arthur, Charles, Imogene, and Robert and I until -midnight. And this is what we said: 'The dignity of your personal -position is, before everything else, to be rigidly maintained.' Mr. -MacBirney will be required to do this. He will be counselled on this -point--made to understand that the obligation to maintain the dignity of -his wife's position is primary. Robert, of course, objected to this. -He was for allowing no one but himself to do anything----" - -"I hope you clearly understand, Dolly, I should allow Mr. Kimberly to do -nothing whatever at this juncture," interposed Alice quickly. - -"I understand perfectly, dear. But there are others of us, you know, -friends of your own dear mother, remember. Only, aside from all of -that, we considered that the situation admitted of but one arrangement. -Charles will tell Nelson exactly what MacBirney is to do, and Nelson -will see that it is done. The proper bankers will advise you of your -credits from your husband, for the present--and they are to be very -generous ones, my dear," added Dolly significantly. "So all that is -taken care of and Mr. MacBirney will further be counselled not to come -near Cedar Lodge or Second Lake until further orders. Do you -understand?" - -"Why, yes, Dolly," assented Alice perplexed, "but Mr. MacBirney's -acquiescence in all this is very necessary it seems to me. And he may -agree to none of it." - -"My dear, it isn't at all a question of _his_ agreeing. He will do as -he is advised to do. Do you imagine he can afford breaking with the -Kimberlys? A man that pursues money, dear heart, is no longer a free -agent. His interests confront him at every turn. Fledgling -millionaires are in no way new to us. Mercy, they pass in and out of -our lives every day! A millionaire, dear, is nothing but a million -meannesses and they all do exactly as they are told. Really, I am sorry -for some of them. Of all unfortunates they are nowadays the worst. -They are simply ground to powder between the multi-millionaires and the -laboring classes. In this case, happily, it is only a matter of making -one do what he ought to do, so give it no thought." - -Dolly proved a good prophet concerning MacBirney's course in the -circumstances. MacBirney, desirous of playing at once to the lake -public in the affair of his domestic difficulties, made unexceptional -allowances for his wife's maintenance. Yet at every dollar that came to -her from his abundance she felt humiliated. She knew now why she had -endured so much at his hands for so long; it was because she had -realized her utter dependence on him and that her dreams of self-support -were likely, if she had ever acted on them, to end in very bitter -realities. - -At the first sign of hot weather, Charles and Imogene put to sea with a -party for a coasting cruise; Dolly sailed for the continent to bring -Grace back with her. Robert Kimberly unwilling to leave for any -extended period would not let Alice desert him; accordingly, Fritzie was -sent for and came over to stay with her. The lake country made a -delightful roaming place and Alice was shown by Kimberly's confidences -how close she was to him. - -He confided to her the journal of the day, whatever it might be. -Nothing was held back. His successes, failures, and worries all came to -her at night. He often asked her for advice upon his affairs and her -wonder grew as the inwardness of the monetary world in which he moved -stood revealed to her. She spoke of it one day. - -"To be sought after as you are--to have so many men running out here to -find you; to be consulted by so many----" - -Kimberly interrupted her. "Do you know why they seek me? Because I -make money for them, Alice. They would run after anybody that could -make them money. But they are wolves and if I lost for them they would -try to tear me to pieces. No man is so alone as the man the public -follows for a day even while it hates or fears him. And the man the -bankers like is the man that can make money for them; their friendship -is as cold and thin as autumn ice." - -"But even then, to have the ability for making money and doing -magnificent things; to be able to succeed where so many men fail--it -seems so wonderful to me." - -"Don't cherish any illusions about it. Everyone that makes money must -be guilty of a thousand cold-blooded things, a thousand sharp turns, a -thousand cruelties; it's a game of cruelties. Fortunately, I'm not a -brilliant success in that line, anyway; people merely think I am. The -ideal money-maker always is and always will be a man without a temper, -without a heart, and with an infusion, in our day, of hypocrisy. He -takes refuge in hypocrisy because the public hates him and he is forced -to do it to keep from hating himself. When public opinion gets too -strong for him he plays to it. When it isn't too strong, he plays to -himself. I can't do that; I have too much vanity to play to anybody. -And the recollection of a single defeat rankles above the memory of a -thousand victories. This is all wrong--far, far from the ideal of money -getting; in fact, I'm not a professional in the game at all--merely an -amateur. A very successful man should never be trusted anyway." - -"Why not?" - -"Because success comes first with him. It comes before friendship and -he will sacrifice you to success without a pang." - -She looked at him with laughing interest. "What is it?" he asked -changing his tone. - -"I was thinking of how I am impressed sometimes by the most unexpected -things. You could never imagine what most put me in awe of you before I -met you." - -"There must have been a severe revulsion of feeling when you did meet -me," suggested Kimberly. - -"We were going up the river in your yacht and Mr. McCrea was showing us -the refineries. All that I then knew of you was what I had read in -newspapers about calculating and cold-blooded trust magnates. Mr. -McCrea was pointing out the different plants as we went along." - -"The river is very pretty at the Narrows." - -"First, we passed the independent houses. They kept getting bigger and -bigger until I couldn't imagine anything to overshadow them and I began -to get frightened and wonder what your refineries would be like. Then, -just as we turned at the island, Mr. McCrea pointed out a perfectly huge -cluster of buildings and said those were the Kimberly plants. Really, -they took my breath away. And in the midst of them rose that enormous -oblong chimney-stack. A soft, lazy column of smoke hovered over -it--such as hovers over Vesuvius." She smiled at the remembrance. "But -the repose and size of that chimney seemed to me like the strength of -the pyramids. When we steamed nearer I could read, near the top, the -great terra-cotta plaque: KIMBERLYS AND COMPANY. Then I thought: Oh, -what a tremendous personage Mr. Robert Kimberly must be!" - -"The chimney is yours." - -"Oh, no, keep it, pray--but it really did put me wondering just what you -were like." - -"It must have been an inspiration that made me build that chimney. The -directors thought I would embarrass the company before we got the -foundations in. I didn't know then whom I was building it for, but I -know now; and if you got a single thrill out of it the expenditure is -justified. And I think mention of the thrill should go into the -directors' minutes on the page where they objected to the bill--we will -see about that. But you never expected at that moment to own the -chimney, did you? You shall. I will have the trustees release it from -the general mortgage and convey it to you." - -"And speaking of Vesuvius, you never dreamed of a volcano lying in wait -for you beneath the lazy smoke of that chimney, did you? And that -before very long you would not alone own the chimney but would be -carrying the volcano around in your vanity bag?" - - - - - CHAPTER XXXII - - -One afternoon in the early autumn Kimberly came to Cedar Lodge a little -later than usual and asked Alice, as he often did, to walk to the lake. -He started down the path with something more than his ordinary decision -and inclined for a time to reticence. They stopped at a bench near an -elm overlooking the water. "You have been in town to-day," said Alice. - -"Yes; a conference this morning on the market. Something extraordinary -happened." - -"In the market?" - -"Market conditions are bad enough, but this was something personal." - -"Tell me about it." - -"MacBirney was present at the conference. After the meeting he came to -the head of the table where I was talking with McCrea--and sat down. -When McCrea joined the others in the lunchroom, MacBirney said he wanted -to speak to me a moment. I told him to go ahead. - -"He began at once about his differences with you. His talk puzzled me. -I was on the defensive, naturally. But as far as I could see, he -designed no attack on me; and of you he could utter nothing but -praise--it was rather trying to listen to. I could not fathom his -purpose in bringing the matter before me in this singular way, but he -ended with an appeal----" - -"An appeal!" - -"He asked me to bring a message to you. I told him I would deliver any -message entrusted to me. He wants you to know that he is very sorry for -what has taken place. He admits that he has been in the wrong----" - -"It is too late!" Alice in her emotion rose to her feet. - -"And he asks you, through me," Kimberly spoke under a strain he did not -wholly conceal, "if he may come back and let the past bury itself." - -"It is too late." - -"He said," Kimberly rose and faced Alice, "there had been differences -about religion----" - -"Ask him," she returned evenly, "whether I ever sought to interfere with -his religious views or practices." - -"These, he promises, shall not come between you again." - -"Wretched man! His words are not the slightest guarantee of his -conduct." - -Kimberly took his hat from his head and wiped his forehead. "This was -the message, Alice; is he to come back to you?" - -"Whatever becomes of me, I never will live again with him." - -"That is irrevocable?" - -"Yes." - -"I have kept my word--that you should have his message as straight as I -could carry it." - -"I believe you have. He certainly could not, whatever his intentions, -have paid you a higher tribute than to entrust you with one for me." - -"Then he does not and never can stand between you and me, Alice?" - -"He never can." - -The expression of his eyes would have frightened her at a moment less -intense. Slightly paler than she had been a year earlier and showing in -her manner rather than in her face only indefinable traces of the -trouble she had been through, Alice brought each day to Kimberly an -attraction that renewed itself unfailingly. - -He looked now upon her eyes--he was always asking whether they were blue -or gray--and upon her brown hair, as it framed her white forehead. He -looked with tender fondness on the delicate cheeks that made not alone a -setting for her frank eyes but for him added to the appeal of her lips. -He sat down again, catching her hand to bring her close. - -"Come," he urged, relaxing from his intensity, "sit down. By Heaven, I -have suffered to-day! But who wouldn't suffer for you? Who but for the -love of woman would bear the cares and burdens of this world?" - -Alice smiled oddly. "We have to bear them, you know, for the love of -man." She sat down on the bench beside him. "Tell me, how have you -suffered to-day?" - -"Do you want to know?" - -"Of course, I want to know. Don't you always want to know how I have -suffered? Though I used to think," she added, as if moved by unpleasant -recollections, "that nobody cares when a woman suffers." - -"The man that loves her cares. It is one of love's attributes. It -makes a woman's sorrow and pain his, just as her joy and happiness are -his. Pleasure and pain are twins, anyway, and you cannot separate them. -Alice!" He looked suddenly at her. "You love me, don't you?" - -Her face crimsoned, for she realized he was bent on making her answer. - -"Let us talk about something else, Robert." - -He repeated his question. - -"Don't make me put it into words yet, Robert," she said at last. "You -have so long known the answer--and know that I still speak as his wife. -Do I love you?" She covered her face with her hands. - -"Alice!" His appeal drew her eyes back to his. They looked speechless -at each other. The moment was too much. Instinctively she sprang in -fear to her feet, but only to find herself caught within his arm and to -feel his burning lips on her lips. She fought his embrace in -half-delirious reproach. Then her eyes submitted to his pleading and -their lips met with her soft, plunging pulse beating swiftly upon his -heart. - -It was only for an instant. She pushed him away. "I have answered you. -You must spare me now or I shall sink with shame." - -"But you are mine," he persisted, "all mine." - -She led him up the path toward the house. - -"Sometimes I am afraid I shall swallow you up, as the sea swallows up -the ship, in a storm of passion." - -"Oh no, you will not." - -"Why not?" - -"Because I am helpless. Was there more to your story?" - -"You know then I haven't told it all." - -"Tell me the rest." - -"When he had finished, I told him I, too, had something to say. 'I -shall deliver your message to Alice,' I said. 'But it is only fair to -say to you I mean to make her my wife if she will accept me, and her -choice will lie between you and me, MacBirney.' - -"You should have seen his amazement. Then he collected himself for a -stab--and I tried not to let him see that it went deep. 'Whatever the -outcome,' he said, 'she will never marry you.' - -"'You must recollect you have not been in her confidence for some time,' -I retorted. He seemed in no way disconcerted and ended by disconcerting -me. 'Remember what I tell you, Mr. Kimberly,' he repeated, 'you will -find me a good prophet. She is a Catholic and will never marry you or -any other man while I live.' - -"'You may be right,' I replied. 'But if Alice marries me she will never -live to regret it for one moment on account of her religion. I have no -religion myself, except her. She is my religion, she alone and her -happiness. You seem to invoke her religion against me. What right have -you to do this? Have you helped her in its practice? Have you kept the -promises you made when you married a Catholic wife? Or have you made -her life a hell on earth because she tried to practise her religion, as -you promised she should be free to do? Is she a better Catholic because -she believed in you, or a worse because to live in peace with you she -was forced to abandon the practice of her religion? These are questions -for you to think over, MacBirney. I will give her your message----' - -"'Give her my message,' he sneered. 'You would be likely to!' - -"'Stop!' I said. 'My word, MacBirney, is good. Friend and foe of mine -will tell you that. Even my enemies accept my word. But if I could -bring myself to deceive those that trust me I would choose enemies to -prey upon before I chose friends. I could deceive my own partners. I -could play false to my own brother--all this I could do and more. But -if I could practise deceits a thousand times viler than these, I could -not, so help me God, lie to a trusting girl that I had asked to be my -wife and the mother of my children! Whatever else of baseness I stooped -to, _that_ word should be forever good!' - -"Alice, I struck the table a blow that made the inkstands jump. My -eye-glasses went with a crash. Nelson and McCrea came running in; -MacBirney turned white. He tried to stretch his lips in a smile; it was -ghastly. Everybody was looking at me. I got up without a word to any -one and left the room." - -Alice caught his sleeve. "Robert, I am proud of you! How much better -you struck than you knew! Oh," she cried, "how could I help loving -you?" - -"Do you love me?" - -"I would give my life for you." - -"Don't give it for me; keep it for me. You will marry me; won't you? -What did the cur mean by saying what he did, Alice?" - -"He meant to taunt me; to remind me of how long I tried to live in some -measure up to the religion that he used every means to drive me -from--and did drive me from." - -"We will restore all that." - -"He meant I must come to you without its blessing." - -He looked suddenly and keenly at her. "Should you be happier with its -blessing?" - -"Ah, Robert." - -"But should you?" - -She gazed away. "It is a happiness I have lost." - -"Then you shall have it again." - -"I will trust to God for _some_ escape from my difficulties. What else -can I do? My husband!" she exclaimed bitterly--"generous man to remind -me of religion!" - -Kimberly spoke with a quick resolve. "I am going to look into this -matter of where you stand as a wife. I am going to know why you can't -have a chance to live your life with me. If I give you back what he has -robbed you of, our happiness will be doubled." - - - - - CHAPTER XXXIII - - -When Kimberly reached The Towers it was dusk. Brother Francis was -walking on the terrace. Kimberly joined him. "How is Uncle John -to-day, Francis?" - -"Always the same. It is an astonishing vitality in your family, -Robert." - -"They need all they have." - -"But all that need strength do not have it. How is your market to-day?" - -"Bad," muttered Kimberly absently. - -"I am sorry that you are worried." - -"More than the market worries me, Francis. But the market is getting -worse and worse. We met again to-day and reduced prices. The outsiders -are cutting. We retaliate to protect our customers. When _we_ cut, the -cut is universal. Their warfare is guerilla. They are here to-day, -there to-morrow." - -"I have thought of what you said last night. Cutting you say, has -failed. Try something else. To-morrow advance all of your standard -brands one quarter. Be bold; cut with your own outside refineries. The -profit from the one hand pays the cost of the war on the other." - -Kimberly stopped. "How childish of you to waste your life in a shabby -black gown, nursing people! Absolutely childish! If you will go into -the sugar business, I tell you again, Francis, I will pay you twenty -thousand dollars a year for ten years and set aside as much more -preferred stock for you." - -"Nonsense, Robert." - -"You are a merchant. You could make a name for yourself. The world -would respect you. There are enough to do the nursing, and too few -brains in the sugar business. To-night I will give the orders and the -advance shall be made when the market opens." - -"But your directors?" - -"We will direct the directors. They have had two months to figure how -to fight the scalpers; you show me in twenty-four hours. Some monks -were in to see me this morning; I was too busy. They told my secretary -they were building an asylum for old men. I told him to say, not a -dollar for old men; to come to me when they were building an asylum for -old women. What do you say to my offer, Francis?" - -"What do I say? Ah, Robert, although you are a very big paymaster, I am -working for a Paymaster much bigger than you. What do I say? I say to -you, give up this sugar business and come with me to the nursing. I -will give you rags in place of riches, fasting in place of fine dinners, -toil in place of repose, but my Paymaster--He will reward you there for -all you endure here." - -"Always deferred dividends. Besides, I should make a poor nurse, -Francis, and you would make a good sugar man. And you seem to imply I -am a bad man in the sugar business. I am not; I am a very excellent -man, but you don't seem to know it." - -"I hope so; I hope you are. God has given you splendid talents--he has -given you more reason, more heart, more judgment than he has given to -these men around you. If you waste, you are in danger of the greater -punishment." - -"But I don't waste. I build up. What can a man do in this world -without power? He must have the sinews of empire to make himself felt. -Francis, what would Cromwell, Frederick, Napoleon have been without -power?" - -"Ah! These are your heroes; they are not mine. I give glory to no man -that overcomes by force, violence, and worse--fraud, broken faith, -misrule, falsehood. What is more detestable than the triumph of mere -brains? Your heroes, do they not tax, extort, pillage, slaughter, and -burn for their own glory? Do they not ride over law, morality, and -justice, your world's heroes? They are not my heroes. When men shrink -at nothing to gain their success--what shall we say of them? But to -hold law, morality, and justice inviolable; to conquer strength but only -by weakness, to vanquish with pity, to crush with mercy--that alone is -moving greatness." - -"Where do you find it?" demanded Kimberly sharply. - -"Never where you look for your heroes; often where I look for -mine--among the saints of God. Not in men of bronze but in men of clay. -It is only Christ who puts the souls of heroes into hearts of flesh and -blood." - -"But you have, along with your saints, some very foolish rules in your -church, Francis. Take the case of Mrs. MacBirney. There is a woman who -has done evil to no one and good to every one. She finds herself married -to a man who thenceforth devotes himself to but one object in life--the -piling up of money. She is forgotten and neglected. That is not the -worst; he, with no religion of his own, makes it his business to harass -and worry her in the practice of hers. He is filled with insane -jealousies, and moved by equally insane hatreds of whatever she desires. -I come into their lives. I see this proud and unhappy woman struggling -to keep her trials hidden. I break down the barriers of her -reserve--not easily, not without being repulsed and humiliated as I -never before have been by a woman--and at last make her, unwillingly, -tell me the truth. Meantime her husband, after a scene--of which I have -never yet learned the real facts--has left her. I say such a woman has -the right to free herself from a brute such as this; your church says -'no.'" - -"Robert, I see what you are coming to. But do not make the case harder -than it is. She may free herself from him if she cannot live in peace -with him; she may leave him under intolerable conditions. But not marry -again." - -"Precisely. And I offer her my devotion and a home and only ask to make -her truly my wife and restore to her the religion he has robbed her of. -And this very religion that he has trampled on and throttled, what does -it say? 'No.'" - -"You state a hard case. Your reasoning is very plausible; you plead for -the individual. There is no law, human or divine, against which the -individual might not show a case of hardship. The law that you find a -hardship protects society. But to-day, society is nothing, the -individual everything. And while society perishes we praise the -tolerant anarchism that destroys it." - -"Francis, you invoke cruelty. What do I care for society? What has -society done for me?" - -"No, I invoke responsibility, which none of us can forever escape. You -seek remarriage. Your care is for the body; but there is also the -soul." - -"Your law is intolerant." - -"Yours is fatal. How often have you said to me--for you have seen it, -as all thoughtful men see it--that woman is sinking every day from the -high estate to which marriage once lifted her. And the law that -safeguards this marriage and against which you protest is the law of -God. I cannot apologize for it if I would; I would not if I could. -Think what you do when you break down the barrier that He has placed -about a woman. It is not alone that the Giver of this law died a -shameful death for the souls of men. You do not believe that Christ was -God, and Calvary means nothing to you. - -"But, Robert, to place woman in that high position, millions of men like -you and me, men with the same instincts, the same appetites, the same -passions as yours and mine, have crucified their desires, curbed their -appetites, and mastered their passions--and this sacrifice has been -going on for nineteen hundred years and goes on about us every day. Who -realizes it? - -"Faith is ridiculed, fasting is despised, the very idea of self-denial -is as absurd to pagan to-day as it was nineteen hundred years ago to -pagan Rome. And with its frivolous marriages and easy divorces the world -again drags woman back to the couch of the concubine from which -Christianity with so much blood and tears lifted her up nineteen hundred -years ago." - -"Francis, you are a dreamer. Society is gone; you can't restore it. I -see only a lovely woman its victim. I am not responsible for the -condition that made her one and I certainly shall not stand by and see -her suffer because the world is rotten--nor would you--don't protest, I -know you, too. So I am going to raise her as high as man can raise a -woman. She deserves it. She deserves infinitely more. I am only sorry -I can't raise her higher. I am going to make her my wife; and you, -Francis, shall dance at the wedding. Oh, you needn't throw up your -hands--you are going to dance at the wedding." - -"Non posso, non posso. I cannot dance, Robert." - -"You don't mean, Francis," demanded Kimberly severely suspicious, "to -tell me you would like me the less--that you would be other than you -have been to me--if you saw me happily married?" - -"How could I ever be different to you from what I have been? Every day, -Robert, I pray for you." - -Kimberly's brows contracted. "Don't do it." - -Francis's face fell. "Not?" - -"For the present let me alone. I'm doing very well. The situation is -delicate." - -Francis's distress was apparent, and Kimberly continued good-naturedly -to explain. "Don't stir God up, Francis; don't you see? Don't attract -his attention to me. I'm doing very well. All I want is to be let -alone." - - - - - CHAPTER XXXIV. - - -"By the way, how does it seem to be quite a free woman?" said Kimberly -one evening to Alice. - -"What do you mean?" - -"Your decree was granted to-day." - -She steeled herself with an exclamation. "_That_ nightmare! Is it -really over?" - -He nodded. "Now, pray forget it. You see, you were called to the city -but once. You spent only ten minutes in the judge's chambers, and -answered hardly half a dozen questions. You have suffered over it -because you are too sensitive--you are as delicate as Dresden. And this -is why I try to stand between you and everything unpleasant." - -"But sha'n't you be tired of always standing between me and everything -unpleasant?" - -He gazed into her eyes and they returned his searching look with the -simplicity of faith. In their expression he felt the measure of his -happiness. "No," he answered, "I like it. It is my part of the job. -And when I look upon you, when I am near you, even when I breathe the -fragrance of your belongings--of a glove, a fan, a handkerchief--I have -my reward. Every trifle of yours takes your charm upon itself." - -He laid a bulky package in her lap. "Here are the maps and -photographs." - -"Oh, this is the villa." Alice's eye ran with delight over the views as -she spread them before her. "Tell me everything about it." - -"I have not seen it since I was a boy. But above Stresa a pebbled Roman -highway winds into the northern hills. It is flanked with low walls of -rotten stone and shaded with plane trees. Half an hour above the town -an ilex grove marks a villa entrance." - -He handed her a photograph. "This is the grove, these are the -gates--they are by Krupp, and you will like them. Above them are the -Dutch Kimberly arms--to which we have no right whatever that I can -discover. But wasn't it delightfully American for Dolly to appropriate -them? - -"The roadway grows narrower as it climbs. Again and again it sinks into -the red hill-side, leaving a wall tapestried with ivy. Indeed, it winds -about with hardly any regard for a fixed destination, but the air is so -bland and the skies at every turn are so soft, that pretty soon you -don't care whether you ever get anywhere or not. The hills are studded -with olives and oranges. - -"When you have forgotten that you have a destination the road opens on a -lovely _pineto_. You cross it to a casino on the eastern edge and there -is the lake, two hundred feet below and stretching away into the Alps. - -"Above the casino you lose yourself among cedars, chestnuts, magnolias, -and there are little gorges with clumps of wild laurel. Figs and -pomegranates begin beyond the gorge. The arbors are hidden by oleander -trees and terraces of camellias rise to the belvedere--the tree you see -just beside it there is a magnolia. - -"Back of this lies the garden, laid out in the old Italian style, and -crowning a point far above the lake stands the house. The view is a -promise of paradise--you have the lake, the mountains, the lowlands, the -walnut groves, yellow campaniles, buff villas, and Alpine sunsets." - -"You paint a lovely picture." - -"But incomplete; to-night you are free to tell me when I can take you. -Make it an early day, Alice. The moment we are married, we start. We -will land at any little port along the Riviera that strikes your fancy, -have a car to meet us, and drive thence by easy stages to the lake. From -the moment we touch at Gibraltar you will fall in love with everything -anew; there is only one Mediterranean--one Italy, cara mia ben. Let us -go in. I want you to sing my song." - -They walked into the house and to the dimly lighted music room. There -they sat down together on the piano bench and she sang for him, "Caro -Mio Ben." - -[Illustration: She sang for him "Caro Mio Ben"] - - - - - CHAPTER XXXV - - -Not every day brought unalloyed happiness. Moments of depression -asserted themselves with Alice and, if tolerated, led to periods of -despondency. She found herself seeking a happiness that seemed to elude -her. - -Even her depression, banished by recreation, left behind something of a -painful subconsciousness like the uneasy subsidence of a physical pain. -Activity thus became a part of her daily routine and she gained a -reputation for lively spirits. - -Kimberly, whose perception was not often at fault, puzzled over the -strain of gayety that seemed to disclose a new phase in Alice's nature. -Once, after a gay day at Sea Ridge, he surprised her at home in the -evening and found her too depressed to dissemble. - -"Now," he said, taking both her hands, "you are going to tell me what -the matter is." - -"Robert, nothing is the matter." - -"Something is the matter," he persisted. "Tell me what it is." - -"It is less than nothing. Just a miserable spectre that haunts me -sometimes. And when I feel in that way, I think I am still his wife. -Now you are vexed with me." - -"Not for an instant, darling; only perplexed. Your worries are mine and -we must work out some relief for them, that is all. And when things -worry me you will help me do away with my spectres, won't you?" - -He soothed and quieted her, not by ridicule and harshness but by -sympathy and understanding, and her love for him, which had found a -timid foothold in the frailest response of her womanly reserve, now sent -its roots deep into her nature. - -It was nothing to her that he was great in the world's eyes; that in -itself would have repelled her--she knew what the world would say of her -ambition in marrying him. But he grew in her eyes because he grew in -her heart as she came to realize more and more his solicitude for her -happiness--the only happiness, he told her, in which he ever should find -his own. - -"I know how it will end, Robert." They were parting after a moment the -most intense they had ever allowed themselves together. She was putting -away his unwilling arms, as she looked in the darkness of the garden up -into his face. - -"How will it end?" he asked. - -"In my loving you as much as you love me." - -Winter passed and the spring was again upon them before they realized -it. In the entertaining around the lake they had been fêted until it -was a relief to run away from it all, as they often did. To escape the -park-like regularity of their own domains, they sought for their riding -or driving the neglected country below the village. Sometimes on their -horses they would explore the backwoods roads and attempt swampy lanes -where frogs and cowslips disputed their entry and boggy pools menaced -escape. - -Alice, hatless and flushed with laughter and the wind, would lead the -way into abandoned wood-paths and sometimes they found one that led -through a forest waste to a hidden pond where the sun, unseen of men, -mirrored itself in glassy waters and dogwood reddened the margin where -their horses drank. - -In the woods, if she offered a race, Kimberly could never catch Alice no -matter what his mount. She loved to thread a reckless way among sapling -trees, heedless of branches that caught her neck and kissed her cheeks -as she hurried on--riding gave them delightful hours. - -They were coming into the village one May morning after a long -cross-country run when they encountered a procession of young girls -moving across the road from the parish school to the church and singing -as they went. The church itself was _en fête_. Country folk gathered -along the road-side and clustered about the church door where a priest -in surplice waited the coming procession. - -Kimberly and Alice, breathing their horses, halted. Dressed in white, -like child brides, the little maidens advanced in the sunshine, their -eyes cast down in recollection and moving together in awkward, measured -step. From their wrists hung rosaries. In their clasped hands they -carried prayer-books and white flowers, and white veils hung from the -rose wreaths on their foreheads. - -"How pretty!" exclaimed Kimberly as the children came nearer. - -"Robert," asked Alice suddenly, "what day is this?" - -"Thursday, isn't it?" - -"It is Ascension Thursday." - -The church-bells began to ring clamorously and the little girls, walking -slowly, ceased their song. The lovers waited. Childhood, hushed with -expectancy and moving in the unconscious appeal of its own innocence, -was passing them. - -The line met by the young priest reached the open door. Kimberly noted -the wistful look in Alice's eyes as the little band entered the church. -She watched until the last child disappeared and when she spoke to her -horse her eyes were wet. Her companion was too tactful to venture a -question. They rode until his silence told her he was aware of her -agitation and she turned to him. - -"Do you know," she said, slowly searching his eyes, "that you are -awfully good?" - -"If I am," he responded, "it is a discovery. And the honor, I fear, is -wholly yours." - -"It is something," she smiled, her voice very sweet, "to have lived to -give that news to the world." - -They rode again in silence. She felt it would be easier if he were to -question her, but it was only after some time that he said: "Tell me -what the little procession was about." - -"I am ashamed to have acted in this way. But this was the day of my -First Communion, Ascension Thursday. It was only a coincidence that I -should see a First Communion class this morning." - -"What is First Communion?" - -"Oh, don't you know?" There was a sadness in the tone. "You don't, of -course, you dear pagan. It is _you_ who should have been the Christian -and I a pagan. You would never have fallen away." - -"You only think you have fallen away, Alice. You haven't. Sometimes you -seem to act as if you had fallen from some high estate. You have not; -don't think it. You are good enough to be a saint--do you give me -credit for no insight? I tell you, you haven't fallen away from your -religion. If you had, you would be quite at ease, and you are very ill -at ease over it. Alice," he turned about in his saddle, "you would be -happier if our marriage could be approved by your church." - -"It never can be." - -"I have led a number of forlorn hopes in my day. I am going to try this -one. I have made up my mind to see your archbishop--I have spoken with -Francis about it. I am going to find out, if nothing more, exactly -where we stand." - - - - - CHAPTER XXXVI - - -In response to a request from Kimberly, Hamilton came out to spend the -night at The Towers. Dolly was leaving just as the doctor arrived. She -beckoned him to her car. - -"You are to save the sixteenth for us, doctor; don't forget to tell Mrs. -Hamilton," she said. "We have persuaded Robert to give a lawn fête for -Grace and Larrie and we want you. Then, too--but this is a -secret--Robert's own wedding occurs two weeks later. That will be -private, of course, so the affair on the sixteenth will include all of -our friends, and we want you to be sure to be here." - -When the doctor sat down with Kimberly in the library after dinner, the -latter spoke of his coming marriage. "You know," he said briefly, as -the doctor took a book from the table, "I am going to make Mrs. -MacBirney my wife." - -"I do. I rejoice in it. You know what I think of her." - -"She has at last set the date and we are to be married on the thirtieth -of June. It will be very quiet, of course. And, by the way, save the -sixteenth of June for us, doctor." - -"Mrs. De Castro has told me. We shall be glad to come out." - -"You, I know, do not approve of marriages made through divorce," -continued Kimberly, bluntly. - -"No, nor do you," returned the doctor. "Not as a general proposition. -In this case, frankly, I look on it as the most fortunate thing that has -happened in the Kimberly family since your own mother married into it." - -"She was a Whitney," muttered Kimberly, leaning back and lifting his -chest as he often did when talking. "Arthur De Castro has a strain of -that blood. He has all her refinement. The Kimberlys are brutes. - -"MacBirney," he went on abruptly, "complained to McCrea yesterday--among -other things that he wants to quarrel about--that I had broken up his -home. I have not; I think you know that." - -"A man came to me the other day"--the doctor laid aside his book--"to -say he was going to stand on his 'rights' and sue for alienation a man -who had run off with his wife. He asked me what I thought of it. 'I -suppose you want my honest opinion,' I replied. 'Yet I am afraid it -won't comfort you much. What "rights" have you established in your -marriage that anybody is bound to respect?' He looked at me astonished. -'The rights of a husband,' he answered. 'Doesn't the law, doesn't -society give them to me?' 'A man that asks equity from society,' said -I, 'ought to come into court with clean hands.' I should like to know -whose hands are cleaner than mine,' he replied, 'I married, made a home -for my wife and supported her.'" - -Kimberly leaning further back let his chin sink on his breast, but his -eyes shining under his black brows showed that he followed the story. - -"'But where are the fruits of your marriage?' I asked," continued the -doctor, narrating. "'Don't stare at me--where are the children? How -have you lived with your wife? As nature and law and society intended -you should--or as a mere paramour? Children would have protected your -wife as a woman; the care of children would have filled her life and -turned her mind from the distraction of listening to another man. Why -didn't you make a wife and mother of the woman you married instead of a -creature? In that case you might have pleaded "rights." But you -thought you could beat the game; and the game has beaten you. You -thought you could take the indulgence of marriage without its -responsibilities. Either you debased your wife to your level or allowed -her to debase you to hers. Don't talk about "rights," you haven't -any.'" - -Hamilton ceased. - -"What did the fellow say?" asked Kimberly. - -"What could he say?" demanded Hamilton. - -They sat a moment in silence. - -Kimberly broke it. "It is a humiliating fact, Hamilton--I often think -of it," he said moodily--"that the only way in which we can determine -our own moral standing is by measuring the standards of our vicious -classes. I mean by our vicious classes the social driftwood who figure -in the divorce courts and the scandal of the day and should be placed in -a social penitentiary. - -"What is really alarming to-day is that our standards of what -constitutes vice have fallen so low. We speak of husbands; has there -ever been a period in the history of our race when husbands have fallen -so low? There was a time when the man that spoke the English tongue -would defend his home with his life----" - -"In those days they had homes to defend." - -"--when it meant death to the man that crossed the threshold of his -honor----" - -"They had honor, too." - -"But consider the baseness the American husband has reached. When he -suspects his wife's infidelity, instead of hiding his possible disgrace, -he employs detectives to make public the humiliating proofs of it. He -advertises himself in the bill he files in the courts. He calls on all -men to witness his abasement. He proclaims his shame from the housetops -and wears his stripes as a robe of honor. And instead of killing the -interloper he brands the woman that bears his name, perhaps the mother -of his children, as a public creature--isn't it curiously infamous? And -this is what our humane, enlightened, and progressive social views have -brought us to--we have fallen too low to shoot! - -"However," concluded Kimberly, shaking himself free from the subject, -"my own situation presents quite other difficulties. And, by the way, -Francis is still ailing. He asked the superior yesterday for a -substitute and went home ill. You have seen Uncle John?" - -"A moment, before dinner." - -"Is he failing, Hamilton?" - -"Mentally, no; physically, he loses ground lately." - -"We die hard," said Kimberly, reflecting, "we can't help it. The old -gentleman certainly brightened up after he heard of my coming marriage. -Not that I told him--Dolly did so. It pleased him marvellously. I -couldn't understand exactly why, but Dolly suggested it was one of the -natural instincts of Uncle John coming out. His eyes sparkle when the -subject is mentioned," continued Kimberly dryly. "I really think it is -the covetous instinct in him that is gratified. He has always disliked -MacBirney and always itched to see him 'trimmed.' This seems to -satisfy, heroically, Uncle John's idea of 'trimming' him. He is as -elated as if he were doing the 'trimming' himself." - -Kimberly explained to Hamilton why he had sent for him and asked him for -a letter of introduction to the archbishop, whom he desired to meet. - -"You are on one or two executive boards with him, I think," suggested -Kimberly. "Do you know him well enough to oblige me?" - -"I know him very well," returned Hamilton. "And you, too, ought to know -him." - -The surgeon wrote the note at once. - - -"MOST REVEREND AND DEAR ARCHBISHOP: - - - - - CHAPTER XXXVII - - -Kimberly was lunching next day at the city office when MacBirney's name -came in with a request for an interview. He was admitted without delay -and while a valet removed the trays and the table, Kimberly greeted his -visitor and, indicating a chair, asked him to sit down. He saw at a -glance the suppressed feeling in MacBirney's manner; the latter, in -fact, carried himself as a man fully resolved to carry out a course yet -fearful of the results. - -"I have come to give notice of my withdrawal from the June pool in -common," began MacBirney without preface. - -"I am not the one to give notice to," returned Kimberly civilly, -"inasmuch as I am not in the June pool and not in touch with its -operations." - -"Well, I've sold--I am selling," MacBirney corrected himself hastily, -"my allotment, no matter who is at interest." - -"McCrea and my brother are the organizers----" - -"I understand," interjected MacBirney, "that you made a good deal of -talk about my action in the December pool a year ago--I give you no -chance to say I haven't served ample notice this time." - -"On the contrary, I quieted a great deal of talk about your action a -year ago. It was so grossly unfair to your associates that I ascribed -your unloading of your stock without notifying them to rank ignorance, -and was disposed to overlook it on that ground." - -MacBirney smiled with some sarcasm. "Though you were careful enough to -say publicly that you would never be caught in another pool with me." - -"I never have been, have I? And I did not 'say publicly'; I said so to -McCrea, who had my permission to tell you. It cost me six hundred -thousand dollars at that time to support the market against you for -three days. And while I like to see my associates make money, I object -to their making it out of me." - -"You didn't say so to poison my wife against me?" - -"I have never, MacBirney, spoken of that or of any other of your -business affairs to your wife. I never have spoken even your name to -your wife, in praise or in blame, until you left her--except twice to -ask her if she loved you. Even that she treated as an insult." - -"You must have made some progress since then." - -Kimberly's head began to move slowly from side to side. "I am told," -added MacBirney, in a thin, hard voice, "you are getting ready to marry -her." - -"Quite true, I am." - -MacBirney's rage forced him to his feet. "I am beginning to understand -now, Kimberly," he framed the words slowly and carefully, "the way you -have plotted against me from the start. I was warned before I ever saw -you that you had no respect for the law of God or man where a woman was -concerned. I was warned that no woman was safe near you." - -Kimberly eyed his enraged associate calmly. "You are travelling far in a -few words, MacBirney. I hope you understand, once for all, that certain -limits cover a situation even such as this. I don't like your last -phrase. It might be made to apply unpleasantly to a woman now very dear -to me. I am used to angry men, and what you say about me----" - -"What I say about----" - -"What you say about me is allowable, no matter what I think of it. But -understand this, if you say one word about her--here or elsewhere, now -or hereafter--I will stop you, if I have to choke you with my own -hands." - -"You can't scare me, Kimberly." - -"I don't want to; I don't want to choke you; but if you wish to see me -try it, pass that limit just once. Now go on, MacBirney." - -"I could have nothing to say against Alice." - -Kimberly nodded heartily in approval. - -"But I have something to say about a man who pretended to be my -friend----" - -"I never pretended to be your friend." - -"--And played traitor to me as you have done. But it's of a piece with -your whole record. First you got me down here----" - -"I never got you down here." - -"--Then you began to lay your plans to ruin my home." - -"What were you doing all this time? Trying to circumvent me by making -your home happy or trying to help me by neglecting it?" - -MacBirney shook his finger at Kimberly in rage. "You can't escape with -smooth phrases. You broke up my home!" - -Kimberly had regained his coolness. "No, you broke it up. Long before -I ever saw you, you broke up your home. It was broken up and only -waiting for some one to save your wife from the wreck. MacBirney, you -have made a success of your business; one one-hundredth of the effort -you have given to your business would have saved your home. Yet you -thought you could treat your wife like a servant, humiliate and abuse -her and still hold her forth a figurehead for your 'home'!" muttered -Kimberly with scorn. - -"You, yourself, put her up to the divorce. Deny that, will you?" - -"No, I will not deny it," retorted Kimberly relapsing into indifference. -"After I came into her life she followed my advice. I believe I have -advised her for the best." - -"I see your finger trailing through every turn of my trouble now. I saw -it too late. But I'm not done with you. And I'm not the only man that -understands your trickery. Lambert will have you on your knees in the -sugar business before you are very much older. Now, I have come to you -with a straight proposition. I want the escrow control of the Western -refineries. If you are ready to give it to me we will make a working -agreement and have peace. If you are not, I will back Lambert in a -string of modern plants that will drive you out of the Western field. -We are ready; the question for you to consider is whether you want to -compromise." - -At this threat Kimberly, so far as the words could be used of him, went -to pieces. To be outfaced in his own headquarters by one whom he would -have termed a hare-brained upstart in the refining world was too much -for his poise. The only outward indication of his surprise and disgust -was a smile; but it was a dangerous smile. "I am afraid I am not enough -of a business man to compromise, MacBirney," he responded in low tones. -"You can't have the escrow control of the Western refineries." - -"Very good. That decision suits me. I am now practically out of your -stock; we shall see what we shall see." - -"One moment, MacBirney," said Kimberly, moved by some sudden impulse of -mercy following his rage, as if MacBirney were really too small fry to -pit himself against. "You have brought a personal affair and a business -affair before me. The business affair, as you are still my associate, I -may say a word on. Don't put any money you can't afford to lose behind -Lambert, for it will all go. I myself have not got resources enough to -give that man a free hand. He has a genius in one direction--that of -talking men out of their money. - -"Moreover, in this case there is a personal friction of long standing -between him and me, and I will never let him lift his head in the sugar -business in this country while I am at the head of these companies, not -if I have to work twenty-four hours a day to clean him out. But that -would not be necessary--for he will not only attend to ruining himself -but to ruining every man that goes with him. If you want to quit us, do -so. Build as many refineries as you like and we will try to get on -peaceably with you--though I myself would not put a dollar into new -refineries to-day. You are rich; you had eight hundred thousand dollars -when I paid you for your junk, and you made two million dollars in the -December pool alone--a good part of it out of me. You will take from -these offices eight million dollars in less than three years." - -MacBirney's alarm at Kimberly's intimate knowledge of his resources -showed in his face. "In railroads you might make it forty millions in -the next ten years, with even average prudence," continued Kimberly -calmly. "Sugar will be a load, anyway you go into it; but sugar and -Lambert will beat you to a frazzle." - -Charles Kimberly walked into the room as his brother concluded. "Talk a -few moments with Charles about this," suggested Kimberly, coolly, -ringing for his office secretary. - -"MacBirney," explained Robert Kimberly to his brother, "has sold out his -common and has a lot of money loose. I am telling him to go in for -railroads." - -The secretary entered. Robert Kimberly after giving him some -directions, got into his car and was driven up-town to the residence of -the archbishop. He alighted before a large, remodelled city house not -far from the cathedral. A messenger had already delivered Hamilton's -letter of introduction and Kimberly was presenting himself by -appointment. - -At the door a man-servant took his card and he was met in the reception -room by a young clergyman, who conducted him to the second floor. As -Kimberly entered the large room into which he was ushered he saw the -prelate rising from his table. He was a grave man and somewhat spare in -his height, slightly stooped with the passing of seventy years, and -bearing in the weariness of his face an expression of kindliness and -intelligence. - -"This is a pleasure, Mr. Kimberly," he said, extending his hand. - -"It is a pleasure for me, your grace." - -"Come this way," continued the archbishop, indicating a divan in one -corner of the room. - -"I brought no letter of introduction other than that from Doctor -Hamilton, which I sent you," Kimberly began as the archbishop seated -himself. - -"Surely, you did not consider even Doctor Hamilton's note necessary," -returned the archbishop, while his secretary withdrew. "Your name and -that of your family have been familiar to me for many years. And I fear -those of my people who venture in upon you with their petitions do not -always bring letters." - -"You have occupied this see for many years," suggested Kimberly in -compliment. - -"As priest and bishop I have lived in this diocese more than forty -years. It seems a long time. Yet the name of Kimberly was very old -here when I came, and without ever meeting one of your family, I have -heard much of you all since. So if there were no other reason, I should -welcome your call as an opportunity to tell you how grateful I am, and -the charities of the archdiocese are, for your repeated generosities. -You know we are not blessed among our own people with many benefactors -of large means. And the calls come upon us with surprising frequency." - -"My father," responded Kimberly, "who was more of a philosopher than a -merchant, impressed me very early with the truth that your church was a -bulwark of social order--one which to that extent laid all thoughtful -men under a debt to it." - -"You are a man of wide interests, Mr. Kimberly." - -"The country grows too fast, your grace. There seems no escape from -expansion." - -"Yet you find time for all of your work?" - -Kimberly made a deprecatory gesture. "My chief affair is to find men to -do my work for me. Personally, I am fairly free." - -"From all save responsibility, perhaps. I know how hard it is to -delegate that. And you give all of your energy to business. You have -no family?" - -"No, and this brings me to the object of my visit." Kimberly paused a -moment. "I shall soon enter into marriage." - -"Ah, I see!" - -"And the subject is a difficult one to lay before your grace." - -The archbishop saw an indefinable embarrassment in his visitor's manner -and raised his thin hand. "Then it has every claim to sympathetic -consideration. Forget for a moment that I am almost a stranger--I am -certainly no stranger to difficulties. And do no longer address me -formally. I said a moment ago that I was glad to meet you if only to -thank you for your responses to our numerous needs. But there is -another reason. - -"When I was a young man, first ordained, my charge was the little -village of Sunbury up in the lake country. You may imagine how familiar -the Kimberly estates became to me in my daily rounds of exercise. I -heard much of your people. Some of their households were of my -congregation. Your mother I never met. I used to hear of her as -exceedingly frail in health. Once, at least, I recall seeing her -driving. But her servants at The Towers were always instructed not -alone to offer me flowers for the altar but diligently to see that the -altar was generously provided from her gardens and hot-houses. - -"I once learned," the archbishop's head drooped slightly in the -reminiscence and his eyes rested full upon his visitor, "that she was -passing through a dreaded ordeal, concerning which many feared for her. -It was on a Sunday before mass that the word came to me. And at the -mass I told my little flock that the patroness to whom we owed our -constant offering of altar flowers was passing that morning through the -valley of the shadow of death, and I asked them to pray for her with me. -You were born on a Sunday, Mr. Kimberly." Kimberly did not break the -silence and the archbishop spoke on. "You see I am quite old enough -myself to be your father. I remember reading an account of your -baptism." - -Kimberly looked keenly into the clear, gray eyes. Not a shade of -thought in the mind of the man before him was lost upon his penetration. -"Any recollection of my mother," he said slowly, "touches me deeply. To -think that you recall her so beautifully is very grateful to me--as you -may well imagine. And that was my birthday! Then if my mother was, or -I have ever been, able to help you I am sure we are repaid in being so -remembered all these years. I lost my father and my mother many years -ago----" - -He paused. "It is very pleasant to be remembered," he repeated -uncertainly, as if collecting himself. "I shall never forget what you -have just told me. And I thank you now for the prayers you said for my -mother when she brought me into the world. Your grace," he added -abruptly, "I am greatly perplexed." - -"Tell me frankly, how and why." - -"I came here with some confidence of getting what I should ask for. I -am naturally a confident man. Yet my assurance deserts me. It seems, -suddenly, that my mission here is vain, that my hopes have deluded me--I -even ask myself why I have come. I could almost say I am sorry that I -have come." - -The archbishop lifted his hand to speak. "Believe me, it is not other -than for good that you have come," he said. - -Kimberly looked at him questioningly. "I cannot tell for what good," -added the archbishop as if to say he could not answer the unspoken -question. "But believe me, you have done right and not wrong in -coming--of that I am sure. Tell me, first, what you came to tell me, -what it is in your heart that has brought you here." - - - - - CHAPTER XXXVIII - - -"I must tell you," began Kimberly, "that while seemingly in a wide -authority in directing the business with which I am connected I am not -always able to do just as I please. Either voluntarily or -involuntarily, I yield at times to the views of those associated with -me. If my authority _is_ final, I prefer not to let the fact obtrude -itself. Again, circumstances are at times too strong for any business -man to set his mere personal views against. Yielding some years ago to -the representations of my associates I took into our companies a group -of Western factories controlled by a man whom I distrusted. - -"To protect our interests it was necessary to move, in the premises, in -one of two ways. I favored the alternative or driving him out of the -business then and there. There were difficulties in either direction. -If we ruined him we should be accused of 'trust methods,' of crushing a -competitor, and should thus incur added public enmity. On the other -hand, I contended if the man were untrustworthy he would grow more -dangerous with power. I need hardly explain to an intelligent man, -regardless of his views on trusts, that any man of integrity, no matter -how threatening or violent a competitor he may be in the beginning, is a -man we welcome as an associate into our business. We need him just as -he needs us--but that is aside. We took the man in----" - -"Against your judgment?" - -"Against my judgment. I never met him until he came East. My estimates -of him were made wholly on his record, and I knew what is known to but -few--that he had ruined his own father-in-law, who died a bankrupt -directly through this man's machinations, and without ever suspecting -him. This seemed to me so unspeakable, so cannibalistic, that I never -needed to know anything further of the man. Yet I took him in, -determined only to add a new care in watching him and still to keep him -in my power so that I could crush him if he ever played false. - -"He came to us--and brought his wife. I knew the man thoroughly the -instant I set eyes on him. His appearance confirmed my impression. But -I met his wife, and found in her a woman to engage respect, homage, and -devotion, one with a charm of manner and person to me unequalled; with a -modesty coupled with spirit and humor that confounded my ideas of -women--a woman, in a word, like my own mother. I am keeping nothing -from you----" - -"Your confidence is safely bestowed." - -"I was moved the moment I saw her. But unhappy experiences had checked -and changed me somewhat. I did not disclose my feelings though I -already knew how she affected me. If I had misjudged her husband I -would make amends--on her account. Then as I watched them the question -came to me--how is he treating her? I will make, for her sake, a new -judgment of him, I said. But I saw him as indifferent to her as if she -did not exist. I saw him neglect her and go out of his way to humiliate -her with attentions to women of our circle that were not fit to be her -servants. I asked myself whether she could be happy--and I saw that as -far as affection was concerned she sat at a hearthstone of ashes. - -"Even her religion--she was a Catholic--with petty and contemptible -persecutions he had robbed her of. She was wretched and I knew it -before I let even her suspect my interest. After that I vacillated, not -knowing what I should do. I advanced and retreated in a way I never did -before. But one day--it was an accident--her ankle turned as she -stepped out of her car and as she fell forward I caught her on my arm. -She repelled me in an instant. But from that moment I determined to win -her for my wife." - -The archbishop regarded him in silence. - -"I am telling you the exact truth. It would profit me nothing to -deceive you, nor have I ever deceived myself or her. She fought my -persistence with all her strength. I tried to make her see that I was -right and she was wrong, and my best aid came from her own husband. I -knew it would be said I was to blame. But this man never had made a -home in any sense for his wife. And if it could be urged that he ever -did do so, it was he, long before I ever saw him, who wrecked it--not -his wife--not I." - -"You say she was a Catholic. Has this poor child lost her faith?" - -Kimberly paused. "I do not know. I should say that whatever her faith -was, he robbed her of it." - -"Do not say exactly that. You have said we must not deceive ourselves -and you are right--this is of first importance. And for this reason -alone I say, no one can deprive me of my faith without my consent; if I -part with it, I do so voluntarily." - -"I understand, quite. Whatever I myself might profess, I feel I should -have no difficulty in practising. But here is a delicate woman in the -power of a brute. There is an element of coercion which should not be -lost sight of and it might worry such a woman out of the possession of -her principles. However, whatever the case may be, she does not go to -church. She says she never can. But some keen unhappiness lies -underneath the reason--if I could explain it I should not be here." - -"Has she left her husband?" - -"No. He, after one of his periodical fits of abuse, and I suspect -violence, left her, and not until he knew he had lost her did he make -any effort to claim her again. But he had imperilled her health--it is -this that is my chief anxiety--wrecked her happiness, and made himself -intolerable by his conduct. She divorced him and is free forever from -his brutality. - -"So I have come to you. I am to make her my wife--after I had thought -never to make any woman my wife--and for me it is a very great -happiness. It is a happiness to my brother and my sister. Through it, -the home and the family which we believed was fated to die with this -generation--my brother is, unhappily, childless--may yet live. Can you -understand all this?" - -"I understand all." - -"Help me in some way to reconcile her religious difficulties, to remove -if possible, this source of her unhappiness. Is it asking too much?" - -The archbishop clasped his hands. His eyes fixed slowly upon Kimberly. -"You know, do you not, that the Catholic Church cannot countenance the -remarriage of a wife while the husband lives." - -"I know this. I have a profound respect for the principles that -restrain the abuses of divorce. But I am a business man and I know that -nothing is impossible of arrangement when it is right that it should be -arranged. This, I cannot say too strongly, is the exceptional case and -therefore I believe there is a way. If you were to come to me with a -difficult problem within the province of my affairs as I come to you -bringing one within yours, I should find a means to arrange it--if the -case had merit." - -"Unhappily, you bring before me a question in which neither the least -nor the greatest of the church--neither bishop nor pope--has the -slightest discretionary power. The indissolubility of marriage is not a -matter of church discipline; it is a law of divine institution. -Christ's own words bear no other meaning. 'What God hath joined -together let not man put asunder.' He declared that in restoring the -indissolubility of marriage he only reëstablished what was from the -beginning, though Moses because of Jewish hardness of heart had -tolerated a temporary departure. No consent that I could give, Mr. -Kimberly, to a marriage such as you purpose, would in the least alter -its status. I am helpless to relieve either of you in contracting it. - -"It is true that the church in guarding sacredly the marriage bond is -jealous that it shall be a marriage bond that she undertakes to guard. -If there should have been an impediment in this first marriage--but I -hardly dare think of it, for the chances are very slender. A prohibited -degree of kindred would nullify a marriage. There is nothing of this, I -take it. If consent had clearly been lacking--we cannot hope for that. -If her husband never had been baptized----" - -"What difference would that make?" - -"A Christian could not contract marriage with a pagan--such a union -would be null." - -"Would a good Catholic enter into such a union?" - -"No." - -Kimberly shook his head. "Then she would not. If she had been a -disgrace to her religion she might have done it. If she had been a -woman of less character, less intelligence it might be. If she had been -a worse Catholic," he concluded with a tinge of bitterness, "she might -stand better now." - -"Better perhaps, as to present difficulties; worse as to that character -which you have just paid tribute to; which makes, in part, her charm as -a woman--the charm of any good woman to a good man. You cannot have and -not have. When you surrender character a great deal goes with it." - -The archbishop's words sounded a knell to Kimberly's hopes, and his -manner as he spoke reflected the passing of his momentary encouragement. -"There is nothing then that you can do." - -"If there be no defect--if this first marriage was a valid marriage--I -am powerless in the circumstances. I can do nothing to allow her to -remarry while her husband lives." - -Kimberly arose. "We cannot, of course, _kill_ him," he said quietly. -"And I am sorry," he added, as if to close the interview, "not to be -able to relieve her mind. I have made an effort to lay before you the -truth and the merit of the case as far as she is concerned. I had hoped -by being absolutely unreserved to invoke successfully something of that -generosity which you find edifying in others; to find something of that -mercy and tolerance which are always so commendable when your church is -not called on to exercise them." - -The archbishop, too, had risen. The two men faced each other. If the -elder felt resentment, none was revealed in his manner or in his answer. -"You said a few moments ago that you could not always do as you -pleased," he began; "I, too, am one under authority." His fingers -closed over the cross on his breast. "All generosity, all mercy, all -tolerance that lie within His law, nothing could prevent my granting to -you, and to less than you--to the least of those that could ask it. I -know too much of the misery, the unhappiness of a woman's life and of -the love she gives to man, to withhold anything within my power to -alleviate her suffering. - -"I have wounded you, and you rebuke me with harsh words. But do not -carry harshness against me in your heart. Let us be sure that these -words mean the same thing to both of us. If generosity and tolerance -are to override a law given by God, of what use am I? Why am I here to -be appealed to? On the other hand, if by generosity or tolerance you -mean patience toward those who do not recognize the law that binds me, -if you mean hesitancy in judging those whose views and practices differ -from my own, then I have the right to ask you to grant these qualities -to me. - -"But if you appeal to the laws and principles of Catholic truth, they -_are_ intolerant, because truth cannot compromise. My church, which you -rebuke with this intolerance, is the bearer of a message from God to -mankind. If men already possessed this message there would be little -reason for the existence of such a church. The very reason of her being -is to convince men of the truth of which they are not yet convinced. - -"Either she is the divinely commissioned messenger of God or she is -not--and if not, her pretensions are the most arrogant the world has -ever seen and her authority is the cruelest mockery. And so you view the -church, so the world views it--this I well know. It is painful -sometimes, it is at this moment, to insist upon a law that I have no -power to set aside--but to do less would be simply a betrayal of my -trust. And if this were the price of what you term 'tolerance,' I must -rest with my church under the stigmas you put upon us." - -Kimberly's anger rose rather than abated with the archbishop's words. -"Of course," he retorted without trying to conceal his anger, "it makes -a difference who seeks relief. Your church can find no relief for a -helpless woman. As I remember, you accommodated Napoleon quickly -enough." - -"Certain unworthy ecclesiastics of my church, constituting an -ecclesiastical court, pretended to find his marriage with Josephine -invalid; the church never confirmed their verdict. Thirteen of its -cardinals suffered Napoleon's penalties because of their protest against -his remarriage. Let us parallel the case. Suppose I could offer to -join with you in a conspiracy. Suppose we should assure this suffering -soul that she is free to remarry. Assume that I could make myself a -party to deceiving her--would you be party with me, to it? Do I mistake, -if I believe you could not conspire in such a baseness?" - -"I do not deal in deceptions." - -"Do you admire Napoleon's methods?" - -"Not all of them." - -"Let us, then, Mr. Kimberly, bear our burdens without invoking his -duplicity." - -"We can do that, your grace," answered Kimberly coldly. "But we shall -also be obliged to bear them without relief from where we had the most -right to look for it. It was not for myself that I came to you. I -sought to restore to your church one who has been driven from it by a -wretch. I should have been better advised; I was too hopeful. Your -policy is, as it always has been, hopelessly fixed and arbitrary. You -encourage those who heap upon you the greatest abuse and contempt and -drive from your doors those disposed to meet you upon any reasonable -composition of a difficulty. I should only wound you if I attempted to -answer your last rebuke." - -"You are going----" - -"Yes." - -"And you go with bitterness. Believe me, it is not pleasant to be -without the approbation of the well-disposed who think and believe -differently from ourselves. But if as Catholics we regard it a -privilege to possess the truth we must be prepared to pay the price it -exacts. The world will always think us wrong, a peculiar people and -with principles beyond its comprehension. We cannot help it. It has -always been so, it always must be so. Good-by." - -"Good-by." - -"If dividing a burden lightens it, remember you have three now to bear -yours instead of two. I shall not forget either of you in my prayers, -certainly not this dear soul of whom you have told me. This is my poor -offering to you and to her for all you have done for those that come to -you in my name." - - - - - CHAPTER XXXIX - - -Following the visit to the archbishop, McCrea, who had been on nettles -to get hold of Kimberly for a trip of inspection, whisked him away for -two days among the seaboard refineries. - -Instead, however, of the two days planned by McCrea, the inspection kept -Kimberly, much to his annoyance, for three days. The date set for -Grace's fête found him still inspecting, but growing hourly more -unmanageable, and before breakfast was over on the third morning McCrea -began to feel the violence of Kimberly's protests. - -By the most ingenious activity on the part of the alert McCrea and his -powerful railroad friends the day's programme for the party was hastened -to completion and the indignant magnate was returned by train to Second -Lake in time for dinner. - -He drove home by way of Cedar Point, and Alice, who had been constantly -in touch with him on the telephone, felt the elation of his presence -when she saw him alight from his car and walk across the terrace to -where she and Fritzie, dressed for the evening, were feeding the -goldfish. - -Kimberly took her hands as she ran forward to meet him. "I thought you -were never coming!" she exclaimed. - -"For a while I thought so myself." - -"And you saw the archbishop?" she murmured eagerly. "He could do -nothing?" - -He regarded her with affection. "I had set my heart on bringing back -good news." - -"I knew there was no chance," said Alice as if to anticipate a failure. -"But it was like you to try. You are always doing unpleasant things for -me." - -He saw the disappointment under her cheerfulness. "And though I did -fail--you love me just the same?" - -She looked into his searching eyes simply. "Always." - -"And we marry two weeks from to-night?" - -"Two weeks from to-night," she answered, smiling still, but with a -tremor in her steady voice. Then she clasped her hands. - -"What is it?" he asked. - -Standing in the sunset before him--and he always remembered her as she -stood then--Kimberly saw in her eyes the fires of the devotion he had -lighted. "I hope," she whispered, "I can make you happy." - -"You would make a stone happy," he murmured, breathing the fragrance of -her being as she looked up at him. - -It was evening when he saw her again and he stood with Dolly and Imogene -who were receiving. - -The night was warm and the guests sought the lawns, the garden, and the -groves. When a horn blown across the terrace announced dancing, slight -and graceful women, whose draperies revealed mere delicate outlines of -breathing creatures, came like fairies out of the night. The ballroom, -in candle-light, was cool, and only the ceiling frescoes, artfully -heightened by lights diffused under ropes of roses, were brighter than -the rest of the room. - -As the last guests arrived from town--Cready Hamilton and his wife with -Doctor Hamilton and the Brysons--Kimberly walked into the ballroom. He -caught Alice's eye and made his way toward her. - -She smiled as he asked for a dance. "Do you realize," said he as she -rose, "that this is your first--and your last--dance at The Towers as a -guest? Next time you will be hostess--won't you?" - -A sound of breaking glass crashing above the music of the violins took -Alice's answer from her lips. Every one started. Women looked -questioningly at the men. Alice shrank to Kimberly's side. "Merciful -Heaven!" she whispered, "what was that?" - -He answered lightly. "Something has smashed. Whatever it is, it is of -no consequence." - -The music continuing without interruption reassured the timid. There -was no sequence to the alarming sound, the flow of conversation -reasserted itself and in a moment the incident was forgotten. - -But Kimberly perceived by Alice's pallor that she was upset. "Come out -into the air," he said, "for a moment." - -"But don't you want to see what it was?" - -"Some one else will do that; come." - -She clung to his arm as they passed through an open door. "You don't -seem just well, dearie," he said, taking her hand within his own. "Let -us sit down." - -He gave her a chair. She sank into it, supporting her head on her other -hand. "I haven't been quite well for a day or two, Robert. I feel very -strange." - -Kimberly with his handkerchief wiped the dampness from her forehead. -Her distress increased and he realized that she was ill. "Alice, let me -take you upstairs a moment. Perhaps you need a restorative." - -The expression on her face alarmed him. They rose just as Dolly -hastened past. "Oh, you are here!" she cried, seeing Kimberly. "Why, -what is the matter with Alice?" - -Alice herself answered. "A faintness, dear," she said with an effort. -"I think that awful crash startled me. What was it?" - -Dolly leaned forward with a suppressed whisper. "Don't mention it! -Robert, the Dutch mirror in the dining-room has fallen. It smashed a -whole tableful of glass. The servants are frightened to death." - -"No one was hurt?" said Kimberly. - -"Fortunately no one. I must find Imogene." - -She hurried on. Alice asked Kimberly to take her back to the ballroom. -He urged her to go upstairs and lie down for a moment. - -The music for the dance was still coming from within and against -Kimberly's protest Alice insisted on going back. He gave way and led -her out upon the floor. For a few measures, with a determined effort, -she followed him. Then she glided mechanically on, supported only by -Kimberly and leaning with increasing weakness upon his arm. - -When he spoke to her, her answers were vague, her words almost -incoherent. "Take me away, Robert," she whispered, "I am faint." - -He led her quietly from the floor and assisted her up a flight of stairs -to his mother's apartment. There he helped her to lie down on a couch. -Annie was hurriedly summoned. A second maid was sent in haste for -Doctor Hamilton and Dolly. - -Alice could no longer answer Kimberly's questions as he knelt. She lay -still with her eyes closed. Her respiration was hardly perceptible and -her hands had grown cold. It was only when Kimberly anxiously kissed -her that a faint smile overspread her tired face. In another moment she -was unconscious. - - - - - CHAPTER XL - - -When Hamilton hastily entered the room, Annie, frightened and helpless, -knelt beside her mistress, chafing her hands. On the opposite side of -the couch Kimberly, greatly disturbed, looked up with relief. - -Taking a chair at her side, the doctor lifted Alice's arm, took her -pulse and sat for some time in silence watching her faint and irregular -respiration. - -He turned after a moment to Kimberly to learn the slight details of the -attack, and listening, retracted the lids of Alice's eyes and examined -the pupils. Reflecting again in silence, he turned her head gently from -side to side and afterward lifted her arms one after the other to let -them fall back beside her on the couch. - -Even these slight efforts to obtain some knowledge of Alice's condition -seemed to Kimberly disquieting and filled him with apprehension. The -doctor turned to Annie. "Has your mistress ever had an experience like -this before, Annie?" - -"No, doctor, never. She has never been in this way before." - -Imogene came hurrying upstairs with Dolly to learn of Alice's condition. -They looked upon her unconsciousness with fear and asked whispered -questions that intensified Kimberly's uneasiness. - -"Do you think we could take her home, doctor?" asked Annie, timidly. - -The doctor paused. "I don't think we will try it to-night, Annie. It -is quite possible for her to remain here, isn't it?" he asked, looking -at Dolly and Kimberly. - -"Certainly," returned Dolly. "I will stay. Alice can have these rooms -and I will take the blue rooms connecting." - -"Then put your mistress to bed at once," said Hamilton to Annie. - -"And telephone home, Annie," suggested Dolly, "for whatever you need. I -will see the housekeeper right away about the linen." - -Kimberly listened to the concise directions of the doctor for immediate -measures of relief and followed him mechanically into the hall. Only -one thought came out of the strange confusion--Alice was at least under -his roof and in his mother's room. - -When he returned with the doctor the lights were low and Alice lay with -her head pillowed on her loosened hair. The maid and Dolly had hastened -away to complete their arrangements for the emergency and for a few -moments the two men were alone with their charge. - -"Doctor, what do you make of this?" demanded Kimberly. - -Hamilton, without taking his eyes from the sick woman, answered -thoughtfully: "I can hardly tell until I get at something of the -underlying cause. Bryson will be here in a moment. We will hear what he -has to say." - -Doctor Bryson appeared almost on the word. Hamilton made way for him at -Alice's side and the two conferred in an undertone. - -Bryson asked many questions of Hamilton and calling for a candle -retracted Alice's eyelids to examine the pupils for reaction to the -light. The two doctors lost not an unnecessary moment in deliberation. -Consulting rapidly together, powerful restoratives were at once prepared -and administered through the circulation. - -Reduced to external efforts to strengthen the vital functions the two -medical men worked as nurses and left nothing undone to overcome the -alarming situation. Then for an hour they watched together, closely, -the character and frequency of Alice's pulse and breathing. - -To Kimberly the conferences of the two men seemed unending. Sometimes -they left the room and were gone a long time. He walked to a window to -relieve his suspense. Through the open sash came the suppressed hum of -motors as the cars, parked below the stables, moved up the hill to -receive departing guests and made their way down the long, dark avenue -to the highway. - -On the eastern horizon a dull gray streak crossed a mirror that lay in -the darkness below. Kimberly had to look twice to convince himself that -the summer night was already waning. - -Annie came into the room and, he was vaguely conscious, was aiding the -doctors in a painstaking examination of their patient. Through delicacy -Kimberly withdrew, as they persistently questioned the maid in the hope -of obtaining the much-needed information concerning her mistress's -previous condition; for what Annie could not supply of this they knew -they must work without. - -Plunged in the gloom of his apprehensions, he saw the doctors coming -down the hall toward him and stopped them. "Speak before me," he said -with an appeal that was a command. "You both know what I have at -stake." - -The three retired to the library and Kimberly listened attentively to -every phase of the discussion between the two master clinicians as they -laid their observations before him. The coma was undisguisedly a -serious matter. It seemed to them already ingravescent and, taken in -connection with the other symptoms, was even ominous. The two men, -without a satisfactory history, and without a hope of obtaining one from -the only available source--the suffering woman herself--discussed the -case from every side, only to return unwillingly to the conclusion to -which everything pointed--that a cerebral lesion underlay the attack. - -Their words sent a chill to Kimberly's heart. But the lines of defence -were mapped out with speed and precision; a third eminent man, an -authority on the brain, was to be sent for at once. Nurses, equal almost -in themselves to good practitioners, were to be called in, and finally -Hamilton and Bryson arranged that either one or the other should be at -the sick-bed every instant to catch a possible moment of consciousness. - -Hamilton himself returned to his patient. Bryson at the telephone took -up the matter of summoning aid from town, and when he had done threw -himself down for a few hours' sleep. Kimberly followed Hamilton and -returned to Alice's side. He saw as he bent over her how the expression -of her face had changed. It was drawn with a profound suffering. -Kimberly sitting noiselessly down took her hand, waiting to be the first -to greet her when she should open her eyes. - - -All Second Lake knew within a day or two of Alice's critical illness. -The third doctor had come in the morning and he remained for several -days. - -Hamilton questioned Annie repeatedly during the period of consultations. -"Try to think, Annie," he said once, "has your mistress never at any -time complained of her head?" - -"Indeed, sir, I cannot remember. She never complained about herself at -all. Stop, sir, she did last summer, too--what am I thinking of? I am -so confused. She had a fall one night, sir. I found her in her -dressing-room unconscious. Oh, she was very sick that night. She told -me that she had fallen and her head had struck the table--the back of -her head. For days she suffered terribly. Could it have been that, do -you think?" - -"Put your hand to the place on your head where she complained the pain -was." - -"How did she happen," Hamilton continued, when Annie had indicated the -region, "to fall backward in her own room, Annie?" - -"She never told me, doctor. I asked her but I can't remember what she -said. It was the night before Mr. MacBirney left Cedar Lodge." - -The doctors spent fruitless days in their efforts to overcome the -unconsciousness. There was no longer any uncertainty as to the seat of -the trouble. It lay in the brain itself and defied every attempt to -relieve it. Even a momentary interval of reason was denied to the dumb -sufferer. - -Kimberly, on the evening of the third day, had summoned his medical -advisers to his own room and asked the result of their consultation. -The frail and eminent man whom Hamilton and Bryson had brought from town -told Kimberly the story. He could grasp only the salient points of what -the specialist said: That in a coma such as they faced it was the -diagnosis of the underlying conditions that was always important. That -this was often difficult; sometimes, as now, impossible. That at times -they encountered, as now, a case so obscure as to defy the resources of -clinical medicine. Kimberly asked them their judgment as to the issue; -the prognosis, they could only tell him, was doubtful, depending wholly -upon the gravity of the apoplectic injury. - -The Kimberly family rose to the emergency. Aware of the crisis that had -come, through Alice, into Robert's life, Imogene and Dolly, on hand day -and night, were mother and sister to him and to her. Nowhere in the -situation was there any failure or weakening of support. - -Hamilton, undismayed in the face of the physical catastrophe he had been -called upon so unexpectedly to retrieve, and painfully aware of what the -issue meant to his near and dear friend, never for an instant relaxed -his efforts. - -Seconded by his nurses, reinforced by his counsel and strengthened by -Bryson's close co-operation, Hamilton faced the discouragement steadily, -knowing only too well that the responsibility must rest, in the end, on -him alone. - -Absorbed, vigilant, tireless--pouring the reserve energy of years into -the sustained struggle of the sleepless days and nights--he strove with -every resource of his skill and watched unremittingly for an instant's -abatement of the deadly lethargy that was crushing the vitality of the -delicate woman before him. - -Kimberly, following the slightest details of the sick-room hours, spent -the day and the night at the bedside or in pacing the long hall. If he -slept it was for an hour and after leaving orders to summon him -instantly if Alice woke. They who cared for her knew what he meant by -"waking." They knew how long and mutely, sometimes in the day, -sometimes in the silence of the night, he watched her face for one -returning instant of reason. - -They knew how when hope burned low in every other eye it shone always -steadily in his. The rising of the sun and its setting meant to him -only another day of hope, another night of hope for her; every concern -had passed from him except that which was centered in the fight for her -life. - -Considerate as he was to those about him they feared him, and his -instinctive authority made itself felt more keenly in his silence than -in his words. The heavy features, the stubborn brow, the slow, steady -look became intensified in the long, taciturn vigil. Every day Dolly -walked with him and talked with him. She made a bond between him and -the world; but she saw how little the world meant when danger came -between him and the woman he loved. - -One evening the nurses told him that Alice was better. They hoped for a -return of consciousness and he sat all night waiting for the precious -instant. The next day while he slept, wearied and heartsick, Alice -sank. For ten minutes those about her endured a breathless, ageing -suspense that sapped their energy and strength, until it was known that -the doctor had won the fight and the weary heart had returned to its -faint and labored beat. They told Kimberly nothing of it. When he -awoke he still thought she was better. - -When he came into the room he was so hopeful that he bent over her and -fondly called her name. To his consternation and delight her eyes opened -at the sound of his voice; it seemed as if she were about to speak. -Then her eyes closed again and she lay still. The incident electrified -him and he spoke hopefully of it for hours. At midnight he sent -Hamilton away, saying he himself was fresh and would be on duty with the -nurse until daylight. - -The air was sultry. Toward morning a thunder-storm broke violently. -Kimberly walked out into the hall to throw the belvedere doors open to -the fresh air. As he turned to go back, his heart stopped beating. In -the gloom of the darkened gallery a slender, white figure came from the -open door of the sick-room and Kimberly saw Alice, with outstretched -hands, walking uncertainly toward him. He stood quite still and taking -her hands gently as they touched his own he murmured her name. - -"Alice! What is it, darling?" She opened her eyes. Their vacancy -pierced his heart. - -"Baby is crying," she faltered; "I hear my baby. Walter." Her hands -groped pitifully within his own. "Walter! Let me go to her!" - -She tried to go on but Kimberly restrained and held her for a moment -trembling in his arms. "Come with me," he said, leading her slowly back -to her pillow. "Let us go to her together." - - - - - CHAPTER XLI - - -When the sun burst upon The Towers in the freshness of the morning, -Kimberly's eyes wore another expression. The pleading of her words -still rang in his ears. The tears in her voice had cost him his -courage. Before another night fell they told him but a slender hope -remained. He seemed already to have realized it. - -After the doctors had spoken and all knew, Annie crept into Kimberly's -room. His head was bowed on the table between his arms. With her -little wet handkerchief and her worn beads crushed in her hands, she -ventured to his side. Her sobs aroused him. "What is it, Annie?" - -"Oh, Mr. Kimberly; she is so sick!" - -"Yes, Annie." - -"Don't you think you should call a priest for her?" - -"A priest?" He opened his eyes as if to collect his thoughts. - -"Oh, yes, a priest, Mr. Kimberly." - -"Go yourself for him, Annie." - -Tears were streaming down the maid's cheeks. She held out an ivory -crucifix. "If her eyes should open, dear Mr. Kimberly, won't you give -this to her? It is her own." Kimberly took the crucifix in silence and -as Annie hurried away he buried his head again in his arms. - -The timid young clergyman from the village responded within half an -hour. Hamilton spoke kindly to him and explained to him Alice's -condition; for unless consciousness should return Hamilton knew that -nothing could be done. - -After trying in vain to speak to her the priest asked leave to wait in -an adjoining room. His youthfulness and timidity proved no detriment to -his constancy, for he sat hour after hour relieved only by Annie's -messages and declining to give up. In the early morning finding there -had been no change he left, asking that he be sent for if consciousness -should return. - -With a strength that the doctors marvelled at, Alice rallied after the -bad night. She so held her improvement during the day that Hamilton at -nightfall felt she still might live. - -While the doctors and the family were at dinner Kimberly was kneeling -upstairs beside Alice. She lay with her eyes closed, as she had lain the -night she was stricken, but breathing more quietly. The racking pain no -longer drew her face. Kimberly softly spoke her name and bent over her. -He kissed her parched lips tenderly and her tired eyes opened. A -convulsion shook him. It seemed as if she must know him, but his -pleading brought no response. - -Then as he looked, the light in her eyes began to fade. With a sudden -fear he took her in his arms and called to Annie on the other side of -the bed. The nurse ran for Hamilton. Annie with a sob that seemed to -pierce Alice's stupor held up the ivory crucifix and the eyes of her -dying mistress fixed upon it. - -Reason for an instant seemed to assert itself. Alice, her eyes bent upon -the crucifix, and trying to rise, stretched out her hands. Kimberly, -transfixed, supported her in his arms. Annie held the pleading symbol -nearer and Alice with a heart-rending little cry clutched it -convulsively and sank slowly back. - - - - - CHAPTER XLII - - -She died in his arms. In the stillness they heard her name again and -again softly spoken, as if he still would summon her from the apathy of -death. They saw him, in their sobbing, wait undiscouraged for his -answer from the lips that never would answer again. - -If he had claimed her in her life he claimed her doubly in her death; -now, at least, she was altogether his. He laid her tenderly upon the -pillow and covering her hands, still clasping the crucifix, in his own -hands he knelt with his face buried in the counterpane. - -Day was breaking when he kissed her and rose to his feet. When Dolly -went to him in the morning to learn his wishes she found him in his -room. Alice was to lie, he said, with the Kimberlys on the hill, in the -plot reserved for him. His sister assented tearfully. As to the -funeral, he asked Dolly to confer with the village priest. He directed -that only Annie and her own women should make Alice ready for the burial -and forbade that any stranger's hand should touch his dead. - -She lay in the sunshine, on her pillow, after Annie had dressed her -hair, as if breathing. Kimberly went in when Annie came for him. He saw -how the touch of the maid's loving hands had made for her dead mistress -a counterfeit of sleep; how the calm of the great sleep had already come -upon her, and how death, remembering the suffering of her womanhood, had -restored to her face its girlish beauty. Hamilton, who was with him, -followed him into the room. Kimberly broke the silence. - -"What _is_ First Communion, Hamilton?" he asked. - -Hamilton shook his head. - -"I think," Kimberly said, pausing, "it must be the expression upon her -face now." - -During the day he hardly spoke. Much of the time he walked in the hall -or upon the belvedere and his silence was respected. Those of his -household asked one another in turn to talk with him. But even his -kindness repelled communication. - -In the early morning when the white couch had been placed to receive her -for the grave he returned to the room with Dolly and they stood beside -Alice together. - -"This is my wedding day, Dolly. Did you remember it?" - -"Robert!" - -"I tried for once to do better; to treat Alice as a woman should be -treated. This is my reward--my wedding day." - -He lifted her in his arms like a child and as he laid her in her coffin -looked at her stonily. "My bride! My Alice!" - -Dolly burst into tears. The harshness of his despair gave way as he -bent over her for the last time and when he spoke again the tenderness -of his voice came back. "My darling! With you I bury every earthly -hope; for I take God to witness, in you I have had all my earthly joy!" -He walked away and never saw her face again. - -The unintelligible service in the church did not rouse him from his -torpor and he was only after a long time aware of a strange presence on -the altar. Just at the last he looked up into the sanctuary. Little -clouds of incense rising from a swinging thurible framed for an instant -the face of a priest and Kimberly saw it was the archbishop. - -The prelate stood before the tabernacle facing the little church filled -with people. But his eyes were fixed on the catafalque and his lips -were moving in prayer. Kimberly watched with a strange interest the -slender, white hand rise in a benediction over the dead. He knew it was -the last blessing of her whom he had loved. - -Dolly had dreaded the scene at the grave but there was no scene. Nor -could Kimberly ever recollect more than the mournful trees, the green -turf, and the slow sinking of a flowered pall into the earth. And at -the end he heard only the words of the archbishop, begging that they who -remained might, with her, be one day received from the emptiness of this -life into one that is both better and lasting. - - - - - CHAPTER XLIII - - -In the evening of the day on which they had buried Alice, and the family -were all at The Towers, Dolly, after dinner, asked Doctor Hamilton to -walk with her. Robert Kimberly had dined upstairs and Hamilton upon -leaving Dolly went up to Kimberly's rooms. - -The library door was closed. Hamilton, picking up a book in an -adjoining room, made a place under the lamp and sat down to read. It -was late when Kimberly opened the closed door. "Do you want to see me, -doctor?" he asked abruptly. - -"Not particularly. I am not sleepy." - -Kimberly sat down in the corner of a davenport. "Nor am I, doctor. Nor -am I talkative--you understand, I know." - -"I have been reading this pretty little French story." Hamilton had the -book in his hand. "Mrs. MacBirney gave it to you. I have been thinking -how like her it seems--the story itself--elevated, delicate, -refined----" - -"It happens to be the only book she ever gave me." - -Hamilton looked again at the inscription on the fly-leaf, and read in -Alice's rapid, nervous hand: - -"From Alice, To Robert." - -"What slight chances," the doctor went on, "contribute sometimes to our -treasures. You will always prize this. And to have known and loved -such a woman--to have been loved by her--so much does not come into -every man's life." - -Kimberly was silent. But Hamilton had come to talk, and disregarding -the steady eyes bent suspectingly upon him he pursued his thought. "To -my mind, to have known the love of one woman is the highest possible -privilege that can come to a man. And this is the thought I find in -this book. It is that which pleases me. What surprises me in it is the -light, cynical view that the man takes of the responsibility of life -itself." - -"All sensualists are cynical." - -"But how can a man that has loved, or treasures, as this man professes -to treasure, the memory of a gifted woman remain a sensualist?" - -Kimberly shrugged his shoulders. "Men are born sensualists. No one -need apologize for being a sensualist; a man should apologize for being -anything else." - -"But no matter what you and I are born, we die something other." - -"You mean, we progress. Perhaps so. But that we progress to any more -of respect for man or for life, I have yet to learn. We progress from a -moment of innocence to an hour of vanity, and from an hour of vanity to -an eternity of ashes." - -"You are quoting from the book." - -"It is true." - -"She did not believe it true. She died clinging to a crucifix." - -Kimberly shrank under the surgeon's blade. - -"A memory is not vanity," persisted Hamilton. "And the day some time -comes when it embodies all the claim that life has upon us; but it is -none the less a valid claim. In this case," the surgeon held up the -book, "Italy and work proved such a claim." - -"My work would be merely more money-getting. I am sickened of all -money-getting. And my Italy lies to-night--up there." His eyes rolled -toward the distant hill. "I wish I were there with her." - -"But between the wishing and the reality, Robert--you surely would not -hasten the moment yourself." - -Kimberly made no answer. - -"You must think of Alice--what would she wish you to do? Promise me," -Hamilton, rising, laid his hand on Kimberly's shoulder, "that to-night -you will not think of yourself alone. Suicide is the supreme -selfishness--remember your own words. There was nothing of selfishness -in her. Tell me, that for to-night, you will think of her." - -"That will not be hard to do. You are very kind. Good-night." - -In the morning Kimberly sent for Nelson and later for Charles. It was -to discuss details concerning their business, which Robert, conferring -with his brother, told him frankly he must now prepare to take up more -actively. Charles, uneasy, waited until they had conferred some time -and then bluntly asked the reason for it. - -Kimberly gave no explanation beyond what he had already given to Nelson, -that he meant to take a little rest. The two worked until Charles, -though Robert was quite fresh, was used up. He rose and going to an -open window looked out on the lake, saying that he did not want to work -any longer. - -The brothers were so nearly of an age that there seemed no difference in -years between them. Robert had always done the work; he liked to do it -and always had done it. To feel that he was now putting it off, -appalled Charles, and he hid his own depression only because he saw the -mental strain reflected in Robert's drawn features. - -Charles, although resolutely leaving the table and every paper on it, -looked loyally back after a moment to his brother. "It's mighty good of -you, Bob," he said slowly, "to explain these things all over again to -me. I ought to know them--I'm ashamed that I don't. But, somehow, you -always took the load and I like a brute always let you take it. Then -you are a lot brainier than I am." - -Robert cut him off. "That simply is not true, Charlie. In matter of -fact, that man has the most brains who achieves happiness. And you have -been supremely happy." - -"While you have done the work!" - -"Why not? What else have I been good for? If I could let you live--if -even one of us could live--why shouldn't I?" - -The elder brother turned impulsively. "Why? Because you have the right -to live, too. Because sunshine and bright skies are as much for you as -they are for me." - -They were standing at the window together. Robert heard the feeling in -the words. - -"Yes," he answered, "I know the world is full of sunshine, and flowers -are always fresh and life is always young and new hands are always -caressing. This I well know, and I do not complain. The bride and the -future are always new. But Charlie," he laid his hand on his brother's -shoulder, "we can't all play the game of life with the same counters; -some play white but some must play black. It's the white for you, the -black for me. The sun for you, the shadow for me. Don't speak; I know, -I have chosen it; I know it is my fault. I know the opportunities -wasted. I might have had success, I asked for failure. But it all -comes back to the same thing--some play the white, some the black." - - - - - CHAPTER XLIV - - -A second shock within a week at The Towers found Kimberly still dazed. -In the confusion of the household Uncle John failed one morning to -answer Francis's greeting. No word of complaint had came from him. He -lay as he had gone to sleep. - -Hamilton stood in the room a moment with Kimberly beside his dead uncle. - -"He was an extraordinary man, Robert," said the surgeon, breaking the -silence at last. "A great man." - -"He asked no compromise with the inevitable," responded Kimberly, -looking at the stern forehead and the cruel mouth. "I don't know"--he -added, turning mechanically away, "perhaps, there is none." - -After the funeral Dolly urged Robert to take Hamilton to sea and the two -men spent a week together on the yacht. Between them there existed a -community of mental interest and material achievement as well as a -temperamental attraction. Hamilton was never the echo of any expression -of thought that he disagreed with. Yet he was acute enough to realize -that Kimberly's mind worked more deeply than his own and was by this -strongly drawn to him. - -Moreover, to his attractive independence Hamilton united a tenderness -and tact developed by long work among the suffering--and the suffering, -like children, know their friends. Kimberly, while his wound was still -bleeding, could talk to Hamilton more freely than to any one else. - -The day after their return to The Towers the two men were riding -together in the deep woods over toward the Sound when Kimberly spoke for -the first time freely of Alice. "You know," he said to Hamilton, -"something of the craving of a boy's imagination. When we are young we -dream of angels--and we wake to clay. The imagination of childhood sets -no bounds to its demands, and poor reality, forced to deliver, is left -bankrupt. From my earliest consciousness my dreams were of a little girl -and I loved and hungered for her. She was last in my sleeping and first -in my waking thoughts. - -"It grew in me, and with me, this pictured companion of my life. It was -my childish happiness. Then the time came when she left me and I could -not call her back. An old teacher rebuked me once. 'You think,' said -he, 'that innocence is nothing; wait till you have lost it.' - -"I believed at last, as year after year slipped away, that I had created -a being of fancy too lovely to be real. I never found her--in all the -women I have ever known I never found her until one night I saw Alice -MacBirney. Dolly asked me that night if I had seen a ghost. She was my -dream come true. Think of what it means to live to a reality that can -surpass the imagination--Alice was that to me. - -"To be possessed of perfect grace; that alone means so much--and grace -was but one of her natural charms. I thought I knew how to love such a -woman. It was all so new to her--our life here; she was like a child. -I thought my love would lift me up to her. I know, too late, it dragged -her down to me." - -"You are too harsh. You did what you believed right." - -"Right?" echoed Kimberly scornfully. "What _is_ right? Who knows or -cares? We do what we please--who does _right_?" - -They turned their horses into a bridle-path toward the village and -Kimberly continued to speak. "Sometimes I have thought, what -possibilities would lie in moulding a child to your own ideas of -womanhood. It must be pleasing to contemplate a girl budding into such -a flower as you have trained her to be. - -"But if this be pleasing, think what it is to find such a girl already -in the flower of her womanhood; to find in her eyes the light that moves -everything best within you; to read in them the answer to every question -that springs from your heart. This is to realize the most powerful of -all emotions--the love of man for woman." - -The horses stopped on the divide overlooking the lakes and the sea. To -the left, the village lay at their feet, and beyond, the red roofs of -the Institute clustered among clumps of green trees. The sight of the -Institute brought to Kimberly's mind Brother Francis, who, released from -his charge at The Towers, had returned to it. - -He had for a time wholly forgotten him. He reflected now that after -Hamilton's departure the companionship of Francis might help to relieve -his insupportable loneliness. The men rode together past the village -and parted when they reached the lake, Hamilton returning to The Towers -and Kimberly riding south to the Institute to take, if possible, Brother -Francis home with him. He expected some objection, but was prepared to -overcome it as he dismounted at the door of the infirmary and rang. A -tall, shock-haired brother answered. - -"I have come to see Brother Francis." - -"You mean Brother Francis, who was at The Towers? He has gone, I am -sorry to say." - -"Where has he gone?" - -"Brother Francis has gone to the leper mission at Molokai." - -Kimberly stared at the man: "Molokai! Francis gone to Molokai? What do -you mean?" - -A wave of amazement darkening Kimberly's features startled the -red-haired brother. "Who sent him?" demanded Kimberly angrily. "Why -was I not notified? What kind of management is this? Where is your -Superior?" - -"Brother Ambrose is ill. I, Mr. Kimberly, am Brother Edgar. No one -sent Brother Francis. Surely you must know, for years he has wished to -go to the Molokai Mission? When he was once more free he renewed his -petition. The day after it was granted he left to catch the steamer. -He went to The Towers to find you to say good-by. They told him you had -gone to sea." - -Kimberly rode slowly home. He was unwilling to admit even to himself -how hateful what he had now heard was to him and how angrily and -inexplicably he resented it. - -He had purposed on the day that he made Alice his wife to give Brother -Francis as a foundation for those higher schools that were the poor -Italian's dream, a sum of money much larger than Francis had ever -conceived of. It was to have been one of those gifts the Kimberlys -delighted in--of royal munificence, without ceremony and without the -slightest previous intimation; one of those overwhelming surprises that -gratified the Kimberly pride. - -Because it was to have been in ready money even the securities had -previously been converted, and the tons of gold lay with those other -useless tons that were to have been Alice's on the same day--in the bank -vaults. And of the two who were to have been made happy by them, one -lay in her grave and the other with his own hand had opened the door of -his living tomb. - -Kimberly in the weariness of living returned to the empty Towers. Dolly -and her husband had gone home and Hamilton now returning to town was to -dine with Charles Kimberly. Robert, welcoming isolation, went upstairs -alone. - -His dinner was brought to his room and was sent down again untasted. He -locked his doors and sat down to think. The sounds about the house -which at best barely penetrated the heavy walls of his apartment died -gradually away. A clock within the room chiming the hour annoyed him -and he stopped it. His thoughts ran over his affairs and the affairs of -his brother and his sister and partners and turned to those in various -measure dependent upon his bounty. - -His sense of justice, never wholly obscured, because rooted in his -exorbitant pride, was keenly alive in this hour of silent reckoning. No -injustice, however slight, must be left that could be urged against his -memory, and none, he believed, could now thus be urged. If there were a -shock on the exchanges at the news of his death, if the stocks of his -companies should be raided, no harm could come to the companies -themselves. The antidote to all uneasiness lay in the unnecessarily -large cash balances, rooted likewise in the Kimberly pride, that he kept -always in hand for the unexpected. - -His servants, to the least, had been remembered and he was going over -his thought of them when, with a pang, he reflected that he had -completely forgotten the maid, Annie. It was a humiliation to think -that of all minor things this could happen--that the faithful girl who -had been closer than all others to her who was dearest to him could have -been neglected. However, this could be trusted to a letter to his -brother, and going to a table he wrote a memorandum of the provisions he -wished made for Annie. - -Brother Francis and his years of servitude came to his mind. Was there -any injustice to this man in leaving undone what he had fully intended -to do in providing for the new school? He thought the subject over long -and loosely. What would Francis say when he heard? Could he, stricken -sometime with a revolting disease, ever think of Kimberly as unjust? - -The old fancy of Francis in heaven and Dives begging for a drop of water -returned. But the thought of lying for an eternity in hell without a -drop of water was more tolerable than the thought of this faithful -Lazarus' accusing finger pointing to a tortured Dives who had been in -the least matter unjust. If there were a hereafter, pride had something -at stake in this, too. - -And thus the thought he most hated obtruded itself unbidden--was there a -hereafter? - -Alice rose before him. He hid his face in his hands. Could this woman, -the very thought of whom he revered and loved more than life -itself--could she now be mere dissolving clay--or did she live? Was it -but breathing clay that once had called into life every good impulse in -his nature? - -He rose and found himself before his mother's picture. How completely -he had forgotten his mother, whose agony had given him life! He looked -long and tenderly into her eyes. When he turned away, dawn was beating -at the drawn shades. The night was gone. Without even asking what had -swayed him he put his design away. - - - - - CHAPTER XLV - - -Kimberly took up the matters of the new day heavy with thought. But he -sent none the less immovably for Nelson and the troublesome codicil for -the school was put under immediate way. He should feel better for it, -he assured himself, even in hell. And whether, he reflected, it should -produce any relief there or not, it would silence criticism. With his -accustomed reticence he withheld from Nelson the name of the -beneficiaries until the final draught should be ready, and in the -afternoon rode out alone. - -McCrea and Cready Hamilton came out later with the treasurer. They had -brought a messenger who carried balance sheets, reports, and estimates -to be laid before Kimberly. He kept his partners for dinner and talked -with them afterward of the affairs most on their minds. He told them he -would go over the estimates that night alone and consult with them in -the morning. The type-written sheets were spread with some necessary -explanations on his table in the library upstairs and after his usual -directions for their comfort for the night he excused his associates. - -He closed his door when they had gone. The table lamp was burning and -its heavy shade shrouded the beamed ceiling and the distant corners of -the sombre room. But the darkness suited Kimberly's mood. He seated -himself in a lounging chair to be alone with his thoughts and sat -motionless for an hour before he moved to the table and the papers. The -impressive totals of figures before him failed to evoke any possible -interest; yet the results were sufficient to justify enthusiasm or, at -least, to excite a glow of satisfaction. He pushed the reports back and -as he stared into the gloom Alice's deathbed rose before him. He heard -her sharp little cry, the only cry during that fortnight of torture. He -saw her grasp the crucifix from Annie's hand and heard Annie's answering -cry, "Christ, Son of God, have mercy!" - -Christ, Son of God! Suppose it were true? The thought urged itself. He -walked to a window and threw it open. The lake, the copses and fields -lay flooded with moonlight, but his eyes were set far beyond them. What -if it were true? He forced himself back to the lamp and doggedly took -up the figures. - -Mechanically he went over and over them. One result lost its meaning -the moment he passed to the next and the question that had come upon him -would not down. It kept knocking disagreeably and he knew it would not -be put away until the answer was wrung from him. - -The night air swept in cool from the lake and little chills crept over -him. He shook them off and leaned forward on the table supporting his -head with his hands. "It is not true," he cried stubbornly. There was -a savage comfort in the words. "It is not true," he muttered. His -hands tightened and he sat motionless. - -His head sank to the table, and supporting it on his forearm, with the -huge typewritten sheets crumpled in his hands, he gave way to the -exhaustion that overcame him. "It is not true," he whispered. "I never -will believe it. He is not the Son of God. There is no God." - -Yet he knew even as he lost consciousness that the answer had not yet -come. - - - - - CHAPTER XLVI - - -When Charles came over in the morning, Robert made a pretence of -discussing the budget with his associates. It was hardly more than a -pretence. Figures had palled upon him and he dragged himself each day -to his work by force of will. - -The city offices he ceased to visit. Every matter in which his judgment -was asked or upon which his decision was needed was brought to The -Towers. His horses were left to fret in the stables and he walked, -usually alone, among the villa hills. - -Hamilton, even when he felt he could not penetrate the loneliness of -Kimberly's moods, came out regularly and Kimberly made him to know he -was welcome. "It isn't that I want to be alone," he said one night in -apology to the surgeon. "The only subjects that interest me condemn me -to loneliness. Charles asked me to meet a Chicago friend of his last -night--and he talked books to me and pictures! How can I talk pictures -and books? McCrea brought out one of our Western directors the other -day," as Kimberly continued his chin went down to where it sank when -matters seemed hopeless, "and he talked railroads!" - -"Go back to your books," urged Hamilton. - -"Books are only the sham battles of life." - -"Will you forego the recreation of the intellect?" - -"Ah! The intellect. We train it to bring us everything the heart can -wish. And when our fairy responds with its gifts the appetite to enjoy -them is gone. Hamilton, I am facing an insupportable question--what -shall I do with myself? Shall I stop or go on? And if I go on, how? -This is why I am always alone." - -"You overlook the simplest solution. Take up life again; your -difficulties will disappear." - -"What life? The one behind me? I have been over that ground. I should -start out very well--with commendable resolutions to let a memory guide -me. And I should end--in the old way. I tell you I will never do it. -There is a short cut to the end of that road--one I would rather take at -the beginning. I loathe the thought of what lies behind me; I know the -bitterness of the flesh." His hands were stretched upon the table and -he clenched them slowly as he drew them up with his words, "I never will -embrace or endure it again." - -"Yet, for the average man," he went on, "only two roads lie -open--Christianity or sensuality--and I am just the average man. I -cannot calmly turn back to what I was before I knew her. She changed -me. I am different. Christians, you know," his voice dropped as if he -were musing, "have a curious notion that baptism fixes an indelible mark -on the soul. If that is so, Alice was my baptism." - -"Then your choice is already made, Robert." - -"Why do you say that? When I choose I shall no longer be here. What I -resent is being forced to choose. I hate to bow to law. My life has -been one long contempt for it. I have set myself outside every law that -ever interfered with my desires or ambitions. I have scorned law and -ignored it--and I am punished. What can a man do against death?" - -"Even so, there is nothing appalling in Christianity. Merely choose the -form best adapted to your individual needs." - -"What would you have me do? Fill myself with sounding words and echoing -phrases? I am doing better than that where I am. There is only one -essential form of Christianity--you know what it is. I tell you I never -will bow to a law that is not made for every man, rich or poor, cultured -or crude, ignorant or learned. I never will take up the husks of a 'law -adapted to individual needs.' That is merely making my own law over -again, and I am leaving that. I am sick of exploiting myself. I -despise a law that exploits the individual. I despise men in religious -thought that exploit themselves and their own doctrines. I need wholly -another discipline and I shall never bring myself to embrace it." - -"You are closer to it than you think. Yet, for my part, I hate to see -you lose your individuality--to let some one else do your thinking for -you." - -"A part of my individuality I should be gainer for losing. A part of it -I wish to God some one had robbed me of long ago. But I hate to see -you, Hamilton, deceive yourself with phrases. 'Let some one else do your -thinking for you,'" Kimberly echoed, looking contemptuously away. "If -empty words like that were all!" - -"You are going a good way, Robert," said the surgeon, dryly. - -"I wish I might go far." - -"Parting company with a good many serious minds--not to say brilliant -ones." - -"What has their brilliancy ever done for me? I am tired of this rubbish -of writing and words. Francis was worth libraries. I esteem what he did -with his life more than I do the written words of ten thousand. He -fought the real battle." - -"Did he win?" - -Kimberly's hand shot out. "If I knew! If I knew," he repeated -doggedly. And then more slowly. "If I knew--I would follow him." - - - - - CHAPTER XLVII - - -Kimberly no longer concealed from his family the trend of his thinking -nor that which was to them its serious import. Dolly came to him in -consternation. "My dear brother!" she wept, sitting down beside him. - -His arm encircled her. "Dolly, there is absolutely nothing to cry -about." - -"Oh, there is; there is everything. How can you do it, Robert? You are -turning your back on all modern thought." - -"But 'modern thought,' Dolly, has nothing sacred about it. It is merely -present-day thought and, as such, no better than any other day thought. -Every preposterous thought ever expressed was modern when it first -reached expression. The difficulty is that all such 'modern' thought -delights in reversing itself. It was one thing yesterday and is wholly -another to-day; all that can with certainty be predicated of it is, that -to-morrow it will be something quite else. Present day modern thought -holds that what a man believes is of no moment--what he does is -everything. Four hundred years ago 'modern' thought announced that what -a man did was of no moment, what he believed was everything. Which was -right?" - -"Well, which was right?" demanded Dolly, petulantly. "You seem to be -doing the sermonizing." - -"If you ask me, I should say neither. I should say that what a man -believes is vital and what he does is vital as well. I know--if my -experience has taught me anything--that what men do will be to a -material degree modified by what they believe. It is not I who am -sermonizing, Dolly. Francis often expressed these thoughts. I have only -weighed them--now they weigh me." - -"I don't care what you call it. Arthur says it is pure mediævalism." - -"Tell Arthur, 'mediævalism' is precisely what I am leaving. I am -casting off the tatters of mediæval 'modern' thought. I am discarding -the rags of paganism to which the modern thought of the sixteenth -century has reduced my generation and am returning to the most primitive -of all religious precepts--authority. I am leaving the stony deserts of -agnosticism which 'modern' thought four hundred years ago pointed out as -the promised land and I am returning to the path trodden by St. -Augustine. Surely, Dolly, in this there is nothing appalling for any -one unless it is for the man that has it to do." - -Yet Kimberly deferred a step against which every inclination in his -nature fought. It was only a persistent impulse, one that refused to be -wholly smothered, that held him to it. He knew that the step must be -taken or he must do worse, and the alternative, long pondered, was a -repellent one. - -Indeed, the alternative of ignoring a deepening conviction meant, he -realized, that he must part with his self-respect. He went so far as -seriously to ask himself whether he could not face putting this away; -whether it was not, after all, a fanciful thing that he might do better -without. He considered that many men manage to get on very well in this -world without the scruple of self-respect. - -But honesty with himself had been too long the code of his life to allow -him to evade an unanswered question and he forced himself gradually to -the point of returning to the archbishop. One night he stood again, by -appointment, in his presence. - -"I am at fault in not having written you," Kimberly said simply. "It -was kind of you to remember me in my sorrow last summer. Through some -indecision I failed to write." - -"I understand perfectly. Indeed, you had no need to write," returned -the archbishop. "Somehow I have felt I should see you again." - -"The knot was cruelly cut." - -The archbishop paused. "I have thought of it all very often since that -day on the hill," he said. "'Suppose,' I have asked myself, 'he had -been taken instead. It would have been easier for him. But could he -really wish it? Could he, knowing what she once had suffered, wish that -she be left without him to the mercies of this world?'" The archbishop -shook his head. "I think not. I think if one were to be taken, you -could not wish it had been you. That would have been not better, but -worse." - -"But she would not have been responsible for my death. I am for hers." - -"Of that you cannot be certain. What went before your coming into her -life may have been much more responsible." - -"I am responsible for another death--my own nephew, you know, committed -suicide. And I would, before this, have ended my mistakes and -failures," his voice rose in spite of his suppression "--put myself -beyond the possibility of more--but that she believed what you believe, -that Christ is the Son of God." - -The words seemed wrung from him. "It is this that has driven me to you. -I am sickened of strife and success--the life of the senses. It is Dead -Sea fruit and I have tasted its bitterness. If I can do nothing to -repair what I have already done, then I am better done with life." - -"And do not you, too, believe that Christ is the Son of God?" - -"I do not know what I believe--I believe nothing. Convince me that He -was the Son of God and I will kneel to him in the dust." - -"My dear son! It is not I, nor is it another, that can convince you. -God, alone, extends the grace of faith. Have you ever asked for it?" - -Kimberly started from his apathy. "I?" He relapsed again into -moodiness. "No." The thought moved him to a protest. "How can I reach -a far-off thing like faith?" he demanded with angry energy---"a shadowy, -impalpable, evasive, ghostly thing? How can I reach, how can I grasp, -what I cannot see, what I cannot understand?" - -"You can reach it and you can grasp it. Such questions spring from the -anger of despair; despair has no part in faith. Faith is the death of -despair. From faith springs hope. It is despair that pictures faith to -you as a far-off thing." - -"Whatever it may be, it is not for me. I have no hope." - -"What brought you to-night? Can you not see His grace in forcing you to -come against your own inclination? His hope has sustained you when you -least suspected it. It has stayed your hand from the promptings of -despair. Faith a far-off thing? It is at your side, trembling and -invisible. It is within your reach at every moment. You have but to put -forth your hand to touch it." - -Kimberly shook his bowed head. - -"Will you stretch forth your hand--will you touch the hem of His -garment?" - -Kimberly sat immovable. "I cannot even stretch forth a hand." - -"Will you let me stretch forth mine?" His silence left the archbishop -to continue. "You have come to me like another Nicodemus, and with his -question, unasked, upon your lips. You have done wrong--it is you who -accuse yourself, not I. Your own words tell me this and they can spring -only from an instinct that has accused you in your own heart. - -"Christianity will teach you your atonement--nothing else can or will. -You seem to picture this Christianity as something distant, something of -an unreal, shadowy time and place. It is not. It is concrete, clear, -distinct, alive, all about you every day, answering the very questions -you have asked in your loneliness. It is hidden in the heart of the -servant that waits at your call, locked in the breast of the man that -passes you in the street. It is everywhere, unseen, unapprehended about -you. I am going to put it before you. Stay with me to-night. In that -room, my own little chapel," the archbishop rose as he indicated the -door, "spend the time until you are ready to sleep. You have given many -years to the gratification of yourself. Give one hour to-night to the -contemplation of God. May I tell you my simple faith? The night before -He suffered, He took bread and blessed and broke it, and gave it to His -disciples. And He said, in substance, 'Take and eat of this, for this -is my body, broken for your sins. And as often as ye shall do this, do -it in commemoration of me.' And on these words I ground my faith in -this mystery of His presence; this is why I believe He is here to-night, -and why I leave you with Him in this tabernacle before you. If you feel -that you have done wrong, that you want to atone for it, ask Him to -teach you how." - -The archbishop opened the chapel door. In the darkness of the cool -room, the red sanctuary lamp gleamed above the altar. The archbishop -knelt for a moment beside his questioner; then he withdrew, closing the -door behind him, and the silence of the night remained unbroken. - -An acolyte, entering in the gray of the early morning, saw on the last -of the kneeling benches a man resting with bowed head. In the adjoining -room the archbishop himself had slept, within call, in his chair. He -entered the chapel and an assistant robed him to say his mass before his -single auditor. The service over, he made his thanksgiving, walked to -where the man knelt and, touching him on the shoulder, the two left the -room together. - -[Illustration: An acolyte, entering in the gray of the early morning, -saw on the last of the kneeling benches a man resting with bowed head] - - - - - CHAPTER XLVIII - - -The apprehension that had long waited upon Robert Kimberly's intentions -weighed upon his circle. It was not enough for those about him to -assure themselves that their affairs of business or of pleasure must -move on whether Robert should determine to move on with them or not. His -aloofness carried with it an uncertainty that was depressing. - -If he were wholly gone it would be one thing; but to be not gone and not -of them was quite another. When Nelson brought the codicil providing for -the school, satisfactorily framed, Kimberly had changed his intention -and resolved, instead of incorporating the foundation in his will, to -make immediate provision for an endowment. When the details were worked -out, Nelson left to bring his wife home from Paris. Lottie's first -visit was to Dolly's home, and there she found Imogene and Fritzie. She -tiptoed in on the surprised group with a laugh. - -They rose in astonishment, but Lottie looked so trim and charming in her -French rig that she disarmed criticism. For a moment every one spoke at -once. Then Dolly's kind heart gave way as she mentally pronounced -Lottie faultless. - -"You never looked so well in your life," she exclaimed with sincerity. -"I declare, Lottie, you are back to the sprightliness of girlhood. -Paris certainly agrees with you." - -Lottie smiled. "I have had two great rejuvenators this year--Paris and -a good conscience." - -Fritzie could not resist. "Do they go together, Lottie?" she asked. - -Lottie responded with perfect ease: "Only when one is still young, dear. -I shouldn't dare recommend them to mature persons." - -"You felt no risk in the matter yourself?" suggested Fritzie. - -"Not in the least," laughed Lottie, pushing down her slender girdle. -But she was too happy to quarrel and had returned resolved to have only -friends. "You must tell me all about poor Robert." She turned, as she -spoke to Dolly, with a sudden sympathy in her tender eyes. "I have -thought so much about his troubles. And I am just crazy to see the poor -fellow. What is he doing?" - -"He is in town for a few days, just now. But he has been away for two -months--with the yacht." - -"Where?" - -"No one knows. Somewhere along the coast, I suppose." - -"With whom?" - -"Alone." - -Lottie threw her eyes upward. "_What_ does he _mean_? What do _you_ -all mean by letting him get into such a rut? Such isolation; such -loneliness! He needs to be cheered up, poor fellow. Dolly, I should -think _you_ would be frightened to death----" - -"What could I possibly do that I haven't done?" demanded Dolly. "No one -can do a thing with Robert when he is set. I have simply _had_ to give -up." - -"You _mustn't_ give up," protested Lottie courageously. "It is just the -giving up that ruins everything. Personally, _I_ am convinced that no -one can long remain insensible to genuine and sincere sympathy. And -certainly no one could accuse poor Robert of being unresponsive." - -"Certainly not--if you couldn't," retorted Fritzie. - -Lottie turned with amiability. "Now, Fritzie dear, you are _not_ going -to be unkind to me. I put myself entirely out of the case. It is -something we ought all to work for together. It is our duty, I think." - -She spoke very gently but paused to give the necessary force to her -words. "Truly, it would be depressing to _any_ one to come back to a -gay circle and find it broken up in the way ours is. We can't help the -past. Its sorrows belong to it alone. We must let the dead bury the -dead and all work together to restore the old spirit when everybody was -happy--don't you feel so, Arthur?" she asked, making that sudden kind of -an appeal to Arthur De Castro to which it is difficult to refuse assent. - -"Certainly we should. And I hope you will be successful, Lottie, in -pulling things together." - -"Robert is at home now, isn't he?" - -"He has been at home a fortnight," returned Arthur, "but shut up with -the new board of directors all the time. MacBirney walked the plank, -you know, last fall when Nelson went on the board." - -"I think it was very nice of Robert to confer such an honor on Nelson," -observed Lottie simply, "and I intend to tell him so. He is always -doing something for somebody," she continued, rising to go. "And I want -to see what the constant kindness he extends to others will do if -extended to him." - -"She also wants to see," suggested Fritzie to Imogene, as Dolly and -Arthur walked with Lottie to the door, "what Paris and a good -conscience, and a more slender figure, will do for him." - -"Now, Fritzie!" - -"If Robert Kimberly," blurted Fritzie hotly, "ever takes up again with -Lottie Nelson, I'll never speak to him as long as I live." - -"Again? When did he ever take up with her?" - -"I don't care. You never can tell what a man will do." - -Imogene, less easily moved, only smiled. "Dolly entertains the Nelsons -to-morrow evening, and Robert will be asked very particularly to come." - -Kimberly did not return home, as was expected, that night. At The -Towers they had no definite word as to whether he would be out on the -following day. Dolly called up the city office but could only leave a -message for him. As a last resort she sent a note to The Towers, asking -Robert to join them for the evening in welcoming Lottie. Her failure to -receive an answer before the party sat down to dinner rather led Dolly -to conclude that they should not see him and she felt no surprise when a -note was handed her while the coffee was being served. She tore it open -and read: - - -"DEAR DOLLY: - -"I am just home and have your note. I am sorry not to be with you -to-night to join in welcoming the Nelsons. I send all good wishes to -the little company, but what I have now to tell you will explain my -absence. - -"I had already made an appointment before I learned of your arrangements -for the evening. Father Pauly, the village clergyman, sleeps to-night at -The Towers and I am expecting him as I write. He does not know of my -intention, but before he leaves I shall ask him to receive me into the -Roman Catholic Church. - -"ROBERT." - - -Dolly handed the note to Arthur. He asked if he should read it aloud. -She nodded assent. - -Fritzie, next morning, crossing the lake with flowers for Alice, was -kneeling at her grave when Kimberly came up. She rose hastily but could -not control herself and burst into tears. Kimberly took her hands as she -came to him. "Dear Fritzie," he murmured, "_you_ haven't forgotten." - -"I loved you both, Robert." - -They walked down the hill together. Fritzie asked questions and -Kimberly met her difficulties one after another. "What great difference -does it make, Fritzie, whether I work here or elsewhere? I want a year, -possibly longer, of seclusion--and no one will bother me at the Islands. -Meantime, in a year I shall be quite forgotten." - -Charles Kimberly was waiting at The Towers for a conference. The -brothers lunched together and spent the afternoon in the library. Dolly -came over as they were parting. "Is it true, Robert," she asked -piteously, "that you are going to Molokai?" - -"Not for weeks yet, Dolly. Much remains to be arranged here." - -"To the lepers?" - -"Only for a year or two." He saw the suffering in her face and bent -over her with affectionate humor. "I must go somewhere for a while, -Dolly. You understand, don't you?" - -She shook the tears from her long lashes. "You need not tell me. -Robert, you will never come back." - -He laughed tenderly. "My heart is divided, Dolly. Part of it is here -with you who love me; part of it, you know, is with her. If I come -back, I shall find you here. If I do not come back, I shall find her -THERE." - - -In a distant ocean and amid the vastness of a solitude of waters the -winter sun shines warm upon a windward cliff. From the face of this -gigantic shape, rising half a mile into the air, springs a tapestry of -living green, prodigal with blossoms and overhanging at intervals a -field of flowers. - -On the heights of the crumbling peak the wild goat browses in cool and -leafy groves. In its grassy chimneys rabbits crouch with listening -ears, and on the sheer face of the precipice a squirrel halts upon a -dizzy vine. Above its crest a seabird poises in a majesty of flight, -and in the blue distance a ship sails into a cloudless sky. This is -Molokai. - -At the foot of the mountain the morning sun strikes upon a lowland, -thrust like a tongue of fire into the cooling sea, and where the lava -meets the wave, breakers beat restlessly. - -On one shore of this lowland spit, and under the brow of the cliff, a -handful of white cottages cluster. On the opposite shore lies a -whitewashed hamlet brightened by tropical gardens and shaded with -luxuriant trees; it is the leper port. Near the sea stands a chapel -surmounted by a cross. Beyond it a larger and solitary cross marks a -second village--the village of the leper dead. - -An island steamer whistled one summer evening for the port, and a -landing boat put out from the pier. It was the thirtieth of June. -Three passengers made ready to disembark, two of them women, Sisters of -St. Francis, who had offered themselves for the leper mission, and the -third a man, a stranger, who followed them over the steamer's side and, -rearranging their luggage, made a place for the two women in the stern -of the weather-beaten craft. - -It was the close of the day and the sun flowed in a glory of gold over -the sea. On one edge of the far horizon a rain cloud drifted. In the -east the moon was rising full and into a clear sky. A heavy swell -lifted the boat from the steamer's side. The three passengers steadied -themselves as they rose on its crest, and the brown oarsmen, catching -the sweep of the sea, headed for the long line of foam that crawled upon -the blackened rocks. - -On the distant beach a black-robed figure outlined against the evening -sky watched with straining eyes the sweep of the dripping oars and with -arm uplifted seemed to wait with beating heart upon their stroke for him -who was coming. Along the shore, cripples hastening from the village -crowded the sandy paths toward the pier. In the west, the steamer was -putting out again upon its course, and between the two the little boat, -a speck upon the waves, made its way stoutly through the heaving sea. - - - - - THE END - - - - - * * * * * * * * - - - - - - - TITLES SELECTED FROM GROSSET & DUNLAP'S LIST - - - May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list - - -THE SIEGE OF THE SEVEN SUITORS. By Meredith Nicholson. Illustrated by -C. Coles Phillips and Reginald Birch. - -Seven suitors vie with each other for the love of a beautiful girl, and -she subjects them to a test that is full of mystery, magic and sheer -amusement. - - -THE MAGNET. By Henry C. Rowland. Illustrated by Clarence F. Underwood. - -The story of a remarkable courtship involving three pretty girls on a -yacht, a poet-lover in pursuit, and a mix-up in the names of the girls. - - -THE TURN OF THE ROAD. By Eugenia Brooks Frothingham. - -A beautiful young opera singer chooses professional success instead of -love, but comes to a place in life where the call of the heart is -stronger than worldly success. - - -SCOTTIE AND HIS LADY. By Margaret Morse. Illustrated by Harold M. -Brett. - -A young girl whose affections have been blighted is presented with a -Scotch Collie to divert her mind, and the roving adventures of her pet -lead the young mistress into another romance. - - -SHEILA VEDDER, By Amelia E. Barr. Frontispiece by Harrison Fisher. - -A very beautiful romance of the Shetland Islands, with a handsome, -strong willed hero and a lovely girl of Gaelic blood as heroine. A -sequel to "Jan Vedder's Wife," - - -JOHN WARD, PREACHER. By Margaret Deland. - -The first big success of this much loved American novelist. It is a -powerful portrayal of a young clergyman's attempt to win his beautiful -wife to his own narrow creed. - - -THE TRAIL OF NINETY-EIGHT. By Robert W. Service. Illustrated by Maynard -Dixon. - -One of the best stories of "Vagabondia" ever written, and one of the -most accurate and picturesque of the stampede of gold seekers to the -Yukon. The love story embedded in the narrative is strikingly original. - - - - - The Master's Violin - - By MYRTLE REED - -A Love Story with a musical atmosphere. A picturesque, old German -virtuoso is the reverent possessor of a genuine Cremona. He consents to -take as his pupil a handsome youth who proves to have an aptitude for -technique, but not the soul of the artist. The youth has led the happy, -careless life of a modern, well-to-do young American, and he cannot, -with his meagre past, express the love, the longing, the passion and the -tragedies of life and its happy phases as can the master who has lived -life in all its fulness. But a girl comes into his existence, a -beautiful bit of human driftwood that his aunt had taken into her heart -and home; and through his passionate love for her, he learns the lessons -that life has to give--and his soul awakens. - -Founded on a fact well known among artists, but not often recognized or -discussed. - - -If you have not read "LAVENDER AND OLD LACE" by the same author, you -have a double pleasure in store--for these two books show Myrtle Reed in -her most delightful, fascinating vein--indeed they may be considered as -masterpieces of compelling interest. - - - - - The Prodigal Judge - - By VAUGHAN KESTER - -This great novel--probably the most popular book in this country -to-day--is as human as a story from the pen of that great master of -"immortal laughter and immortal tears," Charles Dickens. - -The Prodigal Judge is a shabby outcast, a tavern hanger-on, a genial -wayfarer who tarries longest where the inn is most hospitable, yet with -that suavity, that distinctive politeness and that saving grace of humor -peculiar to the American man. He has his own code of morals--very -exalted ones--but honors them in the breach rather than in the -observance. - -Clinging to the Judge closer than a brother, is Solomon -Mahaffy--fallible and failing like the rest of us, but with a sublime -capacity for friendship; and closer still, perhaps, clings little -Hannibal, a boy about whose parentage nothing is known until the end of -the story. Hannibal is charmed into tolerance of the Judge's -picturesque vices, while Miss Betty, lovely and capricious, is charmed -into placing all her affairs, both material and sentimental, in the -hands of this delightful old vagabond. - -The Judge will be a fixed star in the firmament of fictional characters -as surely as David Harum or Col. Sellers. He is a source of infinite -delight, while this story of Mr. Kester's is one of the finest examples -of American literary craftmanship. - - - - - TITLES SELECTED FROM GROSSET & DUNLAP'S LIST - - May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. - - -HIS HOUR. By Elinor Glyn. Illustrated. - -A beautiful blonde Englishwoman visits Russia, and is violently made -love to by a young Russian aristocrat. A most unique situation -complicates the romance. - - -THE GAMBLERS. By Charles Klein and Arthur Hornblow. Illustrated by C. -E. Chambers. - -A big, vital treatment of a present day situation wherein men play for -big financial stakes and women flourish on the profits--or repudiate the -methods. - - -CHEERFUL AMERICANS. By Charles Battell Loomis. Illustrated by Florence -Scovel Shinn and others. - -A good, wholesome, laughable presentation of some Americans at home and -abroad, on their vacations, and during their hours of relaxation. - - -THE WOMAN OF THE WORLD. By Ella Wheeler Wilcox. - -Clever, original presentations of present day social problems and the -best solutions of them. A book every girl and woman should possess. - - -THE LIGHT THAT LURES. By Percy Brebner. Illustrated. Handsomely -colored wrapper. - -A young Southerner who loved Lafayette, goes to France to aid him during -the days of terror, and is lured in a certain direction by the lovely -eyes of a Frenchwoman. - - -THE RAMRODDERS. By Holman Day. Frontispiece by Harold Matthews Brett. - -A clever, timely story that will make politicians think and will make -women realize the part that politics play--even in their romances. - - - - _Ask for compete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction_ - - GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26th ST., NEW YORK - - - - - - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ROBERT KIMBERLY *** - - - - -A Word from Project Gutenberg - - -We will update this book if we find any errors. - -This book can be found under: http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/41433 - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one -owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and -you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission -and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth in the -General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and -distributing Project Gutenberg(tm) electronic works to protect the -Project Gutenberg(tm) concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a -registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, -unless you receive specific permission. 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