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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/433-h.zip b/433-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e207212 --- /dev/null +++ b/433-h.zip diff --git a/433-h/433-h.htm b/433-h/433-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..321df84 --- /dev/null +++ b/433-h/433-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,16185 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<HTML> +<HEAD> + +<META HTTP-EQUIV="Content-Type" CONTENT="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1"> + +<TITLE> +The Project Gutenberg E-text of The Conflict, by David Graham Phillips +</TITLE> + +<STYLE TYPE="text/css"> +BODY { color: Black; + background: White; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; + text-align: justify } + +P {text-indent: 4% } + +P.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +P.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: small } + +P.finis { text-align: center ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +</STYLE> + +</HEAD> + +<BODY> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Conflict, by David Graham Phillips + +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 www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Conflict + +Author: David Graham Phillips + +Posting Date: September 27, 2008 [EBook #433] +Release Date: February, 1996 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CONFLICT *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Keller. HTML version by Al Haines. + + + + + +</pre> + + +<BR><BR> + +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +THE CONFLICT +</H1> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +by +</H3> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +David Graham Phillips +</H2> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H4> + <A HREF="#chap01">I</A> + <A HREF="#chap02">II</A> + <A HREF="#chap03">III</A> + <A HREF="#chap04">IV</A> + <A HREF="#chap05">V</A> + <A HREF="#chap06">VI</A> + <A HREF="#chap07">VII</A> + <A HREF="#chap08">VIII</A> + <A HREF="#chap09">IX</A> + <A HREF="#chap10">X</A> +</H4> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap01"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +I +</H3> + +<P> +Four years at Wellesley; two years about equally divided among Paris, +Dresden and Florence. And now Jane Hastings was at home again. At +home in the unchanged house—spacious, old-fashioned—looking down from +its steeply sloping lawns and terraced gardens upon the sooty, smoky +activities of Remsen City, looking out upon a charming panorama of +hills and valleys in the heart of South Central Indiana. Six years of +striving in the East and abroad to satisfy the restless energy she +inherited from her father; and here she was, as restless as ever—yet +with everything done that a woman could do in the way of an active +career. She looked back upon her years of elaborate preparation; she +looked forward upon—nothing. That is, nothing but marriage—dropping +her name, dropping her personality, disappearing in the personality of +another. She had never seen a man for whom she would make such a +sacrifice; she did not believe that such a man existed. +</P> + +<P> +She meditated bitterly upon that cruel arrangement of Nature's whereby +the father transmits his vigorous qualities in twofold measure to the +daughter, not in order that she may be a somebody, but solely in order +that she may transmit them to sons. "I don't believe it," she decided. +"There's something for ME to do." But what? She gazed down at Remsen +City, connected by factories and pierced from east, west and south by +railways. She gazed out over the fields and woods. Yes, there must be +something for her besides merely marrying and breeding—just as much +for her as for a man. But what? If she should marry a man who would +let her rule him, she would despise him. If she should marry a man she +could respect—a man who was of the master class like her father—how +she would hate him for ignoring her and putting her in her ordained +inferior feminine place. She glanced down at her skirts with an angry +sense of enforced masquerade. And then she laughed—for she had a keen +sense of humor that always came to her rescue when she was in danger of +taking herself too seriously. +</P> + +<P> +Through the foliage between her and the last of the stretches of +highroad winding up from Remsen City she spied a man climbing in her +direction—a long, slim figure in cap, Norfolk jacket and +knickerbockers. Instantly—and long before he saw her—there was a +grotesque whisking out of sight of the serious personality upon which +we have been intruding. In its stead there stood ready to receive the +young man a woman of the type that possesses physical charm and knows +how to use it—and does not scruple to use it. For a woman to conquer +man by physical charm is far and away the easiest, the most fleeting +and the emptiest of victories. But for woman thus to conquer without +herself yielding anything whatsoever, even so little as an alluring +glance of the eye—that is quite another matter. It was this sort of +conquest that Jane Hastings delighted in—and sought to gain with any +man who came within range. If the men had known what she was about, +they would have denounced her conduct as contemptible and herself as +immoral, even brazen. But in their innocence they accused only their +sophisticated and superbly masculine selves and regarded her as the +soul of innocence. This was the more absurd in them because she +obviously excelled in the feminine art of inviting display of charm. +To glance at her was to realize at once the beauty of her figure, the +exceeding grace of her long back and waist. A keen observer would have +seen the mockery lurking in her light-brown eyes, and about the corners +of her full red lips. +</P> + +<P> +She arranged her thick dark hair to make a secret, half-revealed charm +of her fascinating pink ears and to reveal in dazzling unexpectedness +the soft, round whiteness of the nape of her neck. +</P> + +<P> +Because you are thus let into Miss Hastings' naughty secret, so well +veiled behind an air of earnest and almost cold dignity, you must not +do her the injustice of thinking her unusually artful. Such artfulness +is common enough; it secures husbands by the thousand and by the tens +of thousands. No, only in the skill of artfulness was Miss Hastings +unusual. +</P> + +<P> +As the long strides of the tall, slender man brought him rapidly +nearer, his face came into plain view. A refined, handsome face, dark +and serious. He had dark-brown eyes—and Miss Hastings did not like +brown eyes in a man. She thought that men should have gray or blue or +greenish eyes, and if they were cruel in their love of power she liked +it the better. +</P> + +<P> +"Hello, Dave," she cried in a pleasant, friendly voice. She was +posed—in the most unconscious of attitudes—upon a rustic bench so +that her extraordinary figure was revealed at its most attractive. +</P> + +<P> +The young man halted before her, his breath coming quickly—not +altogether from the exertion of his steep and rapid climb. "Jen, I'm +mad about you," he said, his brown eyes soft and luminous with passion. +"I've done nothing but think about you in the week you've been back. I +didn't sleep last night, and I've come up here as early as I dared to +tell you—to ask you to marry me." +</P> + +<P> +He did not see the triumph she felt, the joy in having subdued another +of these insolently superior males. Her eyes were discreetly veiled; +her delightful mouth was arranged to express sadness. +</P> + +<P> +"I thought I was an ambition incarnate," continued the young man, +unwittingly adding to her delight by detailing how brilliant her +conquest was. "I've never cared a rap about women—until I saw you. I +was all for politics—for trying to do something to make my fellow men +the better for my having lived. Now—it's all gone. I want you, Jen. +Nothing else matters." +</P> + +<P> +As he paused, gazing at her in speechless longing, she lifted her +eyes—simply a glance. With a stifled cry he darted forward, dropped +beside her on the bench and tried to enfold her in his arms. The veins +stood out in his forehead; the expression of his eyes was terrifying. +</P> + +<P> +She shrank, sprang up. His baffled hands had not even touched her. +"David Hull!" she cried, and the indignation and the repulsion in her +tone and in her manner were not simulated, though her artfulness +hastened to make real use of them. She loved to rouse men to frenzy. +She knew that the sight of their frenzy would chill her—would fill her +with an emotion that would enable her to remain mistress of the +situation. +</P> + +<P> +At sight of her aversion his eyes sank. "Forgive me," he muttered. +"You make me—CRAZY." +</P> + +<P> +"I!" she cried, laughing in angry derision. "What have I ever done to +encourage you to be—impertinent?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing," he admitted. "That is, nothing but just being yourself." +</P> + +<P> +"I can't help that, can I?" +</P> + +<P> +"No," said he, adding doggedly: "But neither can men help going crazy +about you." +</P> + +<P> +She looked at him sitting there at once penitent and impenitent; and +her mind went back to the thoughts that had engaged it before he came +into view. Marriage—to marry one of these men, with their coarse +physical ideas of women, with their pitiful weakness before an emotion +that seemed to her to have no charm whatever. And these were the +creatures who ruled the world and compelled women to be their +playthings and mere appendages! Well—no doubt it was the women's own +fault, for were they not a poor, spiritless lot, trembling with fright +lest they should not find a man to lean on and then, having found the +man, settling down into fat and stupid vacuity or playing the cat at +the silly game of social position? But not Jane Hastings! Her bosom +heaved and her eyes blazed scorn as she looked at this person who had +dared think the touch of his coarse hands would be welcome. Welcome! +</P> + +<P> +"And I have been thinking what a delightful friendship ours was," said +she, disgustedly. "And all the time, your talk about your +ambition—the speeches you were going to make—the offices you were +going to hold—the good you were going to do in purifying politics—it +was all a blind!" +</P> + +<P> +"All a blind," admitted he. "From the first night that you came to our +house to dinner—Jen, I'll never forget that dress you wore—or the way +you looked in it." +</P> + +<P> +Miss Jane had thought extremely well of that toilet herself. She had +heard how impervious this David Hull, the best catch in the town, was +to feminine charm; and she had gone prepared to give battle. But she +said dejectedly, "You don't know what a shock you've given me." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I do," cried he. "I'm ashamed of myself. But—I love you, Jen! +Can't you learn to love me?" +</P> + +<P> +"I hadn't even thought of you in that way," said she. "I haven't +bothered my head about marriage. Of course, most girls have to think +about it, because they must get some one to support them——" +</P> + +<P> +"I wish to God you were one of that sort," interrupted he. "Then I +could have some hope." +</P> + +<P> +"Hope of what," said she disdainfully. "You don't mean that you'd +marry a girl who was marrying you because she had to have food, +clothing and shelter?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'd marry the woman I loved. Then—I'd MAKE her love me. She simply +couldn't help it." +</P> + +<P> +Jane Hastings shuddered. "Thank heaven, I don't have to marry!" Her +eyes flashed. "But I wouldn't, even if I were poor. I'd rather go to +work. Why shouldn't a woman work, anyhow?" +</P> + +<P> +"At what?" inquired Hull. "Except the men who do manual labor, there +are precious few men who can make a living honestly and +self-respectingly. It's fortunate the women can hold aloof and remain +pure." +</P> + +<P> +Jane laughed unpleasantly. "I'm not so sure that the women who live +with men just for shelter are pure," said she. +</P> + +<P> +"Jen," the young man burst out, "you're ambitious—aren't you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Rather," replied she. +</P> + +<P> +"And you like the sort of thing I'm trying to do—like it and approve +of it?" +</P> + +<P> +"I believe a man ought to succeed—get to the top." +</P> + +<P> +"So do I—if he can do it honorably." +</P> + +<P> +Jane hesitated—dared. "To be quite frank," said she, "I worship +success and I despise failure. Success means strength. Failure means +weakness—and I abominate weakness." +</P> + +<P> +He looked quietly disapproving. "You don't mean that. You don't +understand what you're saying." +</P> + +<P> +"Perfectly," she assured him. "I'm not a bit good. Education has +taken all the namby-pamby nonsense out of me." +</P> + +<P> +But he was not really hearing; besides, what had women to do with the +realities of life? They were made to be the property of men—that was +the truth, though he would never have confessed it to any woman. They +were made to be possessed. "And I must possess this woman," he +thought, his blood running hot. He said: +</P> + +<P> +"Why not help me to make a career? I can do it, Jen, with you to help." +</P> + +<P> +She had thought of this before—of making a career for herself, of +doing the "something" her intense energy craved, through a man. The +"something" must be big if it were to satisfy her; and what that was +big could a woman do except through a man? But—this man. Her eyes +turned thoughtfully upon him—a look that encouraged him to go on: +</P> + +<P> +"Politics interest you, Jen. I've seen that in the way you listen and +in the questions you ask." +</P> + +<P> +She smiled—but not at the surface. In fact, his political talk had +bored her. She knew nothing about the subject, and, so, had been as +one listening to an unknown language. But, like all women, having only +the narrowest range of interests herself and the things that would +enable her to show off to advantage, she was used to being bored by the +conversational efforts of men and to concealing her boredom. She had +listened patiently and had led the conversation by slow, imperceptible +stages round to the interesting personal—to the struggle for dominion +over this difficult male. +</P> + +<P> +"Anyhow," he went on, "no intelligent person could fail to be +interested in politics, once he or she appreciated what it meant. And +people of our class owe it to society to take part in politics. Victor +Dorn is a crank, but he's right about some things—and he's right in +saying that we of the upper class are parasites upon the masses. They +earn all the wealth, and we take a large part of it away from them. +And it's plain stealing unless we give some service in return. For +instance, you and I—what have we done, what are we doing that entitles +us to draw so much? Somebody must earn by hard labor all that is +produced. We are not earning. So"—he was looking handsome now in his +manly earnestness—"Jen, it's up to us to do our share—to stop +stealing—isn't it?" +</P> + +<P> +She was genuinely interested. "I hadn't thought of these things," said +she. +</P> + +<P> +"Victor Dorn says we ought to go to work like laborers," pursued David. +"But that's where he's a crank. The truth is, we ought to give the +service of leadership—especially in politics. And I'm going to do it, +Jane Hastings!" +</P> + +<P> +For the first time she had an interest in him other than that of +conquest. "Just what are you going to do?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Not upset everything and tear everything to pieces, as Victor Dorn +wants to do," replied he. "But reform the abuses and wrongs—make it +so that every one shall have a fair chance—make politics straight and +honest." +</P> + +<P> +This sounded hazy to her. "And what will you get out of it?" asked she. +</P> + +<P> +He colored and was a little uneasy as he thus faced a direct demand for +his innermost secret—the secret of selfishness he tried to hide even +from himself. But there was no evading; if he would interest her he +must show her the practical advantages of his proposal. "If I'm to do +any good," said he, putting the best face, and really not a bad face, +upon a difficult and delicate matter—"if I'm to do any good I must win +a commanding position—must get to be a popular leader—must hold high +offices—and—and—all that." +</P> + +<P> +"I understand," said she. "That sounds attractive. Yes, David, you +ought to make a career. If I were a man that's the career I'd choose." +</P> + +<P> +"You can choose it, though you're a woman," rejoined he. "Marry me, and +we'll go up together. You've no idea how exciting campaigns and +elections are. A little while, and you'll be crazy about it all. The +women are taking part, more and more." +</P> + +<P> +"Who's Victor Dorn?" she suddenly asked. +</P> + +<P> +"You must remember him. It was his father that was killed by the +railway the day we all went on that excursion to Indianapolis." +</P> + +<P> +"Dorn the carpenter," said Jane. "Yes—I remember." Her face grew +dreamy with the effort of memory. "I see it all again. And there was +a boy with a very white face who knelt and held his head." +</P> + +<P> +"That was Victor," said Hull. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes—I remember him. He was a bad boy—always fighting and robbing +orchards and getting kept after school." +</P> + +<P> +"And he's still a bad boy—but in a different way. He's out against +everything civilized and everybody that's got money." +</P> + +<P> +"What does he do? Keep a saloon?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, but he spends a lot of time at them. I must say for him that he +doesn't drink—and professes not to believe in drink. When I pointed +out to him what a bad example he set, loafing round saloons, he laughed +at me and said he was spending his spare time exactly as Jesus Christ +did. 'You'll find, Davy, old man,' he said, 'if you'll take the +trouble to read your Bible, that Jesus traveled with publicans and +sinners—and a publican is in plain English a saloonkeeper.'" +</P> + +<P> +"That was very original—wasn't it?" said Jane. "I'm interested in +this man. He's—different. I like people who are different." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't think you'd like him, Victor Dorn," said David. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yes—in a way. I admire him," graciously. "He's really a +remarkable fellow, considering his opportunities." +</P> + +<P> +"He calls you 'Davy, old man,'" suggested Jane. +</P> + +<P> +Hull flushed. "That's his way. He's free and easy with every one. He +thinks conventionality is a joke." +</P> + +<P> +"And it is," cried Miss Hastings. +</P> + +<P> +"You'd not think so," laughed Hull, "if he called you Jane or Jenny or +my dear Jenny half an hour after he met you." +</P> + +<P> +"He wouldn't," said Miss Hastings in a peculiar tone. +</P> + +<P> +"He would if he felt like it," replied Hull. "And if you resented it, +he'd laugh at you and walk away. I suspect him of being a good deal of +a poseur and a fakir. All those revolutionary chaps are. But I +honestly think that he really doesn't care a rap for classes—or for +money—or for any of the substantial things." +</P> + +<P> +"He sounds common," said Miss Hastings. "I've lost interest in him." +Then in the same breath: "How does he live? Is he a carpenter?" +</P> + +<P> +"He was—for several years. You see, he and his mother together +brought up the Dorn family after the father was killed. They didn't +get a cent of damages from the railroad. It was an outrage——" +</P> + +<P> +"But my father was the largest owner of the railroad." +</P> + +<P> +Hull colored violently. "You don't understand about business, Jen. +The railroad is a corporation. It fought the case—and the Dorns had +no money—and the railway owned the judge and bribed several jurors at +each trial. Dorn says that was what started him to thinking—to being +a revolutionist—though he doesn't call himself that." +</P> + +<P> +"I should think it would!" cried Miss Hastings. "If my father had +known——" She caught her breath. "But he MUST have known! He was on +the train that day." +</P> + +<P> +"You don't understand business, Jen. Your father wouldn't interfere +with the management of the corporation ." +</P> + +<P> +"He makes money out of it—doesn't he?" +</P> + +<P> +"So do we all get money out of corporations that are compelled to do +all sorts of queer things. But we can't abolish the system—we've got +to reform it. That's why I'm in politics—and want you——" +</P> + +<P> +"Something must be done about that," interrupted Jane. "I shall talk +to father——" +</P> + +<P> +"For heaven's sake, Jen," cried David in alarm, "don't tell your father +I'VE been stirring you up. He's one of the powers in politics in this +State, and——" +</P> + +<P> +"I'll not give you away, Davy," said Miss Hastings a little +contemptuously. "I want to hear more about this Victor Dorn. I'll get +that money for him and his mother. Is he very poor?" +</P> + +<P> +"Well—you'd call him poor. But he says he has plenty. He runs a +small paper. I think he makes about twenty-five dollars a week out of +it—and a little more out of lecturing. Then—every once in a while he +goes back to his trade—to keep his hand in and enjoy the luxury of +earning honest money, as he puts it." +</P> + +<P> +"How queer!" exclaimed Miss Hastings. "I would like to meet him. Is +he—very ignorant?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, no—no, indeed. He's worked his way through college—and law +school afterward. Supported the family all the time." +</P> + +<P> +"He must be tremendously clever." +</P> + +<P> +"I've given you an exaggerated idea of him," Davy hastened to say. +"He's really an ordinary sort of chap." +</P> + +<P> +"I should think he'd get rich," said Miss Hastings. "Most of the men +that do—so far as I've met them—seem ordinary enough." +</P> + +<P> +"He says he could get rich, but that he wouldn't waste time that way. +But he's fond of boasting." +</P> + +<P> +"You don't think he could make money—after all he did—going to +college and everything?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes—I guess he could," reluctantly admitted Davy. Then in a burst of +candor: "Perhaps I'm a little jealous of him. If <I>I</I> were thrown on +my own resources, I'm afraid I'd make a pretty wretched showing. +But—don't get an exaggerated idea of him. The things I've told you +sound romantic and unusual. If you met him—saw him every day—you'd +realize he's not at all—at least, not much—out of the ordinary." +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps," said Miss Hastings shrewdly, "perhaps I'm getting a better +idea of him than you who see him so often." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, you'll run across him sometime," said Davy, who was bearing up no +better than would the next man under the strain of a woman's interest +in and excitement about another man. "When you do, you'll get enough +in about five minutes. You see, he's not a gentleman ." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not sure that I'm wildly crazy about gentlemen—AS gentlemen," +replied the girl. "Very few of the interesting people I've read about +in history and biography have been gentlemen." +</P> + +<P> +"And very few of them would have been pleasant to associate with," +rejoined Hull. "You'll admire Victor as I do. But you'll feel—as I +do—that there's small excuse for a man who has been educated, who has +associated with upper class people, turning round and inciting the +lower classes against everything that's fine and improving." +</P> + +<P> +It was now apparent to the girl that David Hull was irritatedly jealous +of this queer Victor Dorn—was jealous of her interest in him. Her +obvious cue was to fan this flame. In no other way could she get any +amusement out of Davy's society; for his tendency was to be heavily +serious—and she wanted no more of the too strenuous love making, yet +wanted to keep him "on the string." This jealousy was just the means +for her end. Said she innocently: "If it irritates you, Davy, we +won't talk about him." +</P> + +<P> +"Not at all—not at all," cried Hull. "I simply thought you'd be +getting tired of hearing so much about a man you'd never known." +</P> + +<P> +"But I feel as if I did know him," replied she. "Your account of him +was so vivid. I thought of asking you to bring him to call." +</P> + +<P> +Hull laughed heartily. "Victor Dorn—calling!" +</P> + +<P> +"Why not?" +</P> + +<P> +"He doesn't do that sort of thing. And if he did, how could I bring +him here?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why not?" +</P> + +<P> +"Well—in the first place, you are a lady—and he is not in your class. +Of course, men can associate with each other in politics and business. +But the social side of life—that's different." +</P> + +<P> +"But a while ago you were talking about my going in for politics," said +Miss Hastings demurely. +</P> + +<P> +"Still, you'd not have to meet SOCIALLY queer and rough characters——" +</P> + +<P> +"Is Victor Dorn very rough?" +</P> + +<P> +The interrupting question was like the bite of a big fly to a sweating +horse. "I'm getting sick of hearing about him from you," cried Hull +with the pettishness of the spoiled children of the upper class. +</P> + +<P> +"In what way is he rough?" persisted Miss Hastings. "If you didn't +wish to talk about Victor Dorn, why did you bring the subject up?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh—all right," cried Hull, restraining himself. "Victor isn't +exactly rough. He can act like a gentleman—when he happens to want +to. But you never can tell what he'll do next." +</P> + +<P> +"You MUST bring him to call!" exclaimed Miss Hastings. +</P> + +<P> +"Impossible," said Hull angrily. +</P> + +<P> +"But he's the only man I've heard about since I've been home that I've +taken the least interest in." +</P> + +<P> +"If he did come, your father would have the servants throw him off the +place." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, no," said Hiss Hastings haughtily. "My father wouldn't insult a +guest of mine." +</P> + +<P> +"But you don't know, Jen," cried David. "Why, Victor Dorn attacks your +father in the most outrageous way in his miserable little anarchist +paper—calls him a thief, a briber, a blood-sucker—a—I'd not venture +to repeat to you the things he says." +</P> + +<P> +"No doubt he got a false impression of father because of that damage +suit," said Miss Hastings mildly. "That was a frightful thing. I +can't be so unjust as to blame him, Davy—can you?" +</P> + +<P> +Hull was silent. +</P> + +<P> +"And I guess father does have to do a lot of things in the course of +business—— Don't all the big men—the leaders?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes—unfortunately they do," said Hull. "That's what gives +plausibility to the shrieks of demagogues like Victor Dorn—though +Victor is too well educated not to know better than to stir up the +ignorant classes." +</P> + +<P> +"I wonder why he does it," said Miss Hastings, reflectively. "I must +ask him. I want to hear what he says to excuse himself." In fact, she +had not the faintest interest in the views of this queer unknown; her +chief reason for saying she had was to enjoy David Hull's jealousy. +</P> + +<P> +"Before you try to meet Victor," said Hull, in a constrained, desperate +way, "please speak to your father about it." +</P> + +<P> +"I certainly shall," replied the girl. "As soon as he comes home this +afternoon, I'm going to talk to him about that damage suit. That has +got to be straightened out." An expression of resolution, of +gentleness and justice abruptly transformed her face. "You may not +believe it, but I have a conscience." Absently, "A curious sort of a +conscience—one that might become very troublesome, I'm afraid—in some +circumstances." +</P> + +<P> +Instantly the fine side of David Hull's nature was to the fore—the +dominant side, for at the first appeal it always responded. "So have +I, Jen," said he. "I think our similarity in that respect is what +draws me so strongly to you. And it's that that makes me hope I can win +you. Oh, Jen—there's so much to be done in the world—and you and I +could have such a splendid happy life doing our share of it." +</P> + +<P> +She was once more looking at him with an encouraging interest. But she +said, gently: "Let's not talk about that any more to-day, Davy." +</P> + +<P> +"But you'll think about it?" urged he. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said she. "Let's be friends—and—and see what happens." +</P> + +<P> +Hull strolled up to the house with her, but refused to stop for lunch. +He pleaded an engagement; but it was one that could—and in other +circumstances would—have been broken by telephone. His real reason for +hurrying away was fear lest Jane should open out on the subject of +Victor Dorn with her father, and, in her ignorance of the truth as to +the situation, should implicate him. +</P> + +<P> +She found her father already at home and having a bowl of crackers and +milk in a shady corner of the west veranda. He was chewing in the +manner of those whose teeth are few and not too secure. His brows were +knitted and he looked as if not merely joy but everything except +disagreeable sensation had long since fled his life beyond hope of +return—an air not uncommon among the world's successful men. However, +at sight of his lovely young daughter his face cleared somewhat and he +shot at her from under his wildly and savagely narrowed eyebrows a +glance of admiration and tenderness—a quaint expression for those +cold, hard features. +</P> + +<P> +Everyone spoke of him behind his back as "Old Morton Hastings." +</P> + +<P> +In fact, he was barely past sixty, was at an age at which city men of +the modern style count themselves young and even entertain—not without +reason—hope of being desired of women for other than purely practical +reasons. He was born on a farm—was born with an aversion to physical +exertion as profound as was his passion for mental exertion. We never +shall know how much of its progress the world owes to the physically +lazy, mentally tireless men. Those are they who, to save themselves +physical exertion, have devised all manner of schemes and machines to +save labor. And, at bottom, what is progress but man's success in his +effort to free himself from manual labor—to get everything for himself +by the labor of other men and animals and of machines? Naturally his +boyhood of toil on the farm did not lessen Martin Hastings' innate +horror of "real work." He was not twenty when he dropped tools never +to take them up again. He was shoeing a horse in the heat of the cool +side of the barn on a frightful August day. Suddenly he threw down the +hammer and said loudly: "A man that works is a damn fool. I'll never +work again." And he never did. +</P> + +<P> +As soon as he could get together the money—and it was not long after +he set about making others work for him—he bought a buggy, a kind of +phaeton, and a safe horse. Thenceforth he never walked a step that +could be driven. The result of thirty-five years of this life, so +unnatural to an animal that is designed by Nature for walking and is +punished for not doing so—the result of a lifetime of this folly was a +body shrivelled to a lean brown husk, legs incredibly meagre and so +tottery that they scarcely could bear him about. His head—large and +finely shaped—seemed so out of proportion that he looked at a glance +senile. But no one who had business dealings with him suspected him of +senility or any degree of weakness. He spoke in a thin dry voice, +shrouded in sardonic humor. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't care for lunch," said Jane, dropping to a chair near the side +of the table opposite her father. "I had breakfast too late. Besides, +I've got to look out for my figure. There's a tendency to fat in our +family." +</P> + +<P> +The old man chuckled. "Me, for instance," said he. +</P> + +<P> +"Martha, for instance," replied Jane. Martha was her one +sister—married and ten years older than she and spaciously matronly. +</P> + +<P> +"Wasn't that Davy Hull you were talking to, down in the woods?" +inquired her father. +</P> + +<P> +Jane laughed. "You see everything," said she. +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't see much when I saw him," said her father. +</P> + +<P> +Jane was hugely amused. Her father watched her laughter—the dazzling +display of fine teeth—with delighted eyes. "You've got mighty good +teeth, Jenny," observed he. "Take care of 'em. You'll never know what +misery is till you've got no teeth—or next to none." He looked +disgustedly into his bowl. "Crackers and milk!" grunted he. "No teeth +and no digestion. The only pleasure a man of my age can have left is +eating, and I'm cheated out of that." +</P> + +<P> +"So, you wouldn't approve of my marrying Davy?" said the girl. +</P> + +<P> +Her father grunted—chuckled. "I didn't say that. Does he want to +marry you?" +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't say that," retorted Jane. "He's an unattached young man—and +I, being merely a woman, have got to look out for a husband." +</P> + +<P> +Martin looked gloomy. "There's no hurry," said he. "You've been away +six years. Seems to me you might stay at home a while." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I'd bring him here, popsy I've no intention of leaving you. You +were in an awful state, when I came home. That mustn't ever happen +again. And as you won't live with Martha and Hugo—why, I've got to be +the victim." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes—it's up to you, Miss, to take care of me in my declining +years.... You can marry Davy—if you want to. Davy—or anybody. I +trust to your good sense." +</P> + +<P> +"If I don't like him, I can get rid of him," said the girl. +</P> + +<P> +Her father smiled indulgently. "That's A LEETLE too up-to-date for an +old man like me," observed he. "The world's moving fast nowadays. +It's got a long ways from where it was when your ma and I were young." +</P> + +<P> +"Do you think Davy Hull will make a career?" asked Jane. She had heard +from time to time as much as she cared to hear about the world of a +generation before—of its bareness and discomfort, its primness, its +repulsive piety, its ignorance of all that made life bright and +attractive—how it quite overlooked this life in its agitation about +the extremely problematic life to come. "I mean a career in politics," +she explained. +</P> + +<P> +The old man munched and smacked for full a minute before he said, +"Well, he can make a pretty good speech. Yes—I reckon he could be +taken in hand and pushed. He's got a lot of fool college-bred ideas +about reforming things. But he'd soon drop them, if he got into the +practical swing. As soon as he had a taste of success, he'd stop being +finicky. Just now, he's one of those nice, pure chaps who stand off +and tell how things ought to be done. But he'd get over that." +</P> + +<P> +Jane smiled peculiarly—half to herself. "Yes—I think he would. In +fact, I'm sure he would." She looked at her father. "Do you think he +amounts to as much as Victor Dorn?" she asked, innocently. +</P> + +<P> +The old man dropped a half raised spoonful of milk and crackers into +the bowl with a splash. "Dorn—he's a scoundrel!" he exclaimed, +shaking with passion. "I'm going to have that dirty little paper of +his stopped and him put out of town. Impudent puppy!—foul-mouthed +demagogue! I'll SHOW him!" +</P> + +<P> +"Why, he doesn't amount to anything, father," remonstrated the girl. +"He's nothing but a common working man—isn't he?" +</P> + +<P> +"That's all he is—the hound!" replied Martin Hastings. A look of +cruelty, of tenacious cruelty, had come into his face. It would have +startled a stranger. But his daughter had often seen it; and it did +not disturb her, as it had never appeared for anything that in any way +touched her life. "I've let him hang on here too long," went on the +old man, to himself rather than to her. "First thing I know he'll be +dangerous." +</P> + +<P> +"If he's worth while I should think you'd hire him," remarked Jane +shrewdly. +</P> + +<P> +"I wouldn't have such a scoundrel in my employ," cried her father. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, maybe," pursued the daughter, "maybe you couldn't hire him." +</P> + +<P> +"Of course I could," scoffed Hastings. "Anybody can be hired." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't believe it," said the girl bluntly. +</P> + +<P> +"One way or another," declared the old man. "That Dorn boy isn't worth +the price he'd want." +</P> + +<P> +"What price would he want?" asked Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"How should I know?" retorted her father angrily. +</P> + +<P> +"You've tried to hire him—haven't you?" persisted she. +</P> + +<P> +The father concentrated on his crackers and milk. Presently he said: +"What did that fool Hull boy say about Dorn to you?" +</P> + +<P> +"He doesn't like him," replied Jane. "He seems to be jealous of +him—and opposed to his political views." +</P> + +<P> +"Dorn's views ain't politics. They're—theft and murder and +highfalutin nonsense," said Hastings, not unconscious of his feeble +anti-climax. +</P> + +<P> +"All the same, he—or rather, his mother—ought to have got damages +from the railway," said the girl. And there was a sudden and startling +shift in her expression—to a tenacity as formidable as her father's +own, but a quiet and secret tenacity. +</P> + +<P> +Old Hastings wiped his mouth and began fussing uncomfortably with a +cigar. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't blame him for getting bitter and turning against society," +continued she. "I'd have done the same thing—and so would you." +</P> + +<P> +Hastings lit the cigar. "They wanted ten thousand dollars," he said, +almost apologetically. "Why, they never saw ten thousand cents they +could call their own." +</P> + +<P> +"But they lost their bread-winner, father," pleaded the girl. "And +there were young children to bring up and educate. Oh, I hate to think +that—that we had anything to do with such a wrong." +</P> + +<P> +"It wasn't a wrong, Jen—as I used to tell your ma," said the old man, +much agitated and shrill of voice. "It was just the course of +business. The law was with our company." +</P> + +<P> +Jane said nothing. She simply gazed steadily at her father. He +avoided her glance. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't want to hear no more about it," he burst out with abrupt +violence. "Not another word!" +</P> + +<P> +"Father, I want it settled—and settled right," said the girl. "I ask +it as a favor. Don't do it as a matter of business, but as a matter of +sentiment." +</P> + +<P> +He shifted uneasily, debating. When he spoke he was even more +explosive than before. "Not a cent! Not a red! Give that whelp money +to run his crazy paper on? Not your father, while he keeps his mind." +</P> + +<P> +"But—mightn't that quiet him?" pleaded she. "What's the use of having +war when you can have peace? You've always laughed at people who let +their prejudices stand in the way of their interests. You've always +laughed at how silly and stupid and costly enmities and revenges are. +Now's your chance to illustrate, popsy." And she smiled charmingly at +him. +</P> + +<P> +He was greatly softened by her manner—and by the wisdom of what she +said—a wisdom in which, as in a mirror, he recognized with pleasure +her strong resemblance to himself. "That wouldn't be a bad idea, Jen," +said he after reflection, "IF I could get a guarantee." +</P> + +<P> +"But why not do it generously?" urged the girl. "Generosity inspires +generosity. You'll make him ashamed of himself." +</P> + +<P> +With a cynical smile on his shrivelled face the old man slowly shook +his big head that made him look as top-heavy as a newborn baby. "That +isn't as smart, child, as what you said before. It's in them things +that the difference between theory and practice shows. He'd take the +money and laugh at me. No, I'll try to get a guarantee." He nodded +and chuckled. "Yes, that was a good idea of yours, Jen." +</P> + +<P> +"But—isn't it just possible that he is a man with—with principles of +a certain kind?" suggested she. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course, he THINKS so," said Hastings. "They all do. But you don't +suppose a man of any sense at all could really care about and respect +working class people?—ignorant, ungrateful fools. <I>I</I> know 'em. +Didn't I come from among 'em? Ain't I dealt with 'em all my life? No, +that there guy Dorn's simply trying to get up, and is using them to +step up on. I did the same thing, only I did it in a decent, +law-abiding way. I didn't want to tear down those that was up. I +wanted to go up and join 'em. And I did." +</P> + +<P> +And his eyes glistened fondly and proudly as he gazed at his daughter. +She represented the climax of his rising—she, the lady born and bred, +in her beautiful clothes, with her lovely, delicate charms. Yes, he +had indeed "come up," and there before him was the superb tangible +evidence of it. +</P> + +<P> +Jane had the strongest belief in her father's worldly wisdom. At the +same time, from what David Hull said she had got an impression of a +something different from the ordinary human being in this queer Victor +Dorn. "You'd better move slowly," she said to her father. "There's no +hurry, and you might be mistaken in him." +</P> + +<P> +"Plenty of time," asserted her father. "There's never any need to +hurry about giving up money." Then, with one of those uncanny flashes +of intuition for which he, who was never caught napping, was famous, he +said to her sharply: "You keep your hands off, miss." +</P> + +<P> +She was thrown into confusion—and her embarrassment enraged her +against herself. "What could <I>I</I> do?" she retorted with a brave +attempt at indifference. +</P> + +<P> +"Well—keep your hands off, miss," said the old man. "No female +meddling in business. I'll stand for most anything, but not for that." +</P> + +<P> +Jane was now all eagerness for dropping the subject. She wished no +further prying of that shrewd mind into her secret thoughts. "It's +hardly likely I'd meddle where I know nothing about the circumstances," +said she. "Will you drive me down to Martha's?" +</P> + +<P> +This request was made solely to change the subject, to shift her father +to his favorite topic for family conversation—his daughter Martha, +Mrs. Hugo Galland, her weakness for fashionable pastimes, her incessant +hints and naggings at her father about his dowdy dress, his vulgar +mannerisms of speech and of conduct, especially at table. Jane had not +the remotest intention of letting her father drive her to Mrs. +Galland's, or anywhere, in the melancholy old phaeton-buggy, behind the +fat old nag whose coat was as shabby as the coat of the master or as +the top and the side curtains of the sorrowful vehicle it drew along at +caterpillar pace. +</P> + +<P> +When her father was ready to depart for his office in the Hastings +Block—the most imposing office building in Remsen City, Jane announced +a change of mind. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll ride, instead," said she. "I need the exercise, and the day +isn't too warm." +</P> + +<P> +"All right," said Martin Hastings grumpily. He soon got enough of +anyone's company, even of his favorite daughter's. Through years of +habit he liked to jog about alone, revolving in his mind his business +affairs—counting in fancy his big bundles of securities, one by one, +calculating their returns past, present and prospective—reviewing the +various enterprises in which he was dominant factor, working out +schemes for getting more profit here, for paying less wages there, for +tightening his grip upon this enterprise, for dumping his associates in +that, for escaping with all the valuable assets from another. His +appearance, as he and his nag dozed along the highroad, was as +deceptive as that of a hive of bees on a hot day—no signs of life +except a few sleepy workers crawling languidly in and out at the low, +broad crack-door, yet within myriads toiling like mad. +</P> + +<P> +Jane went up to dress. She had brought an Italian maid with her from +Florence, and a mass of baggage that had given the station loungers at +Remsen City something to talk about, when there was a dearth of new +subjects, for the rest of their lives. She had transformed her own +suite in the second story of the big old house into an appearance of +the quarters of a twentieth century woman of wealth and leisure. In +the sitting room were books in four languages; on the walls were +tasteful reproductions of her favorite old masters. The excellence of +her education was attested not by the books and pictures but by the +absence of those fussy, commonplace draperies and bits of bric-a-brac +where—with people of no taste and no imagination furnish their houses +because they can think of nothing else to fill in the gaps. +</P> + +<P> +Many of Jane's ways made Sister Martha uneasy. For Martha, while +admitting that Jane through superior opportunity ought to know, could +not believe that the "right sort" of people on the other side had +thrown over all her beloved formalities and were conducting themselves +distressingly like tenement-house people. For instance, Martha could +not approve Jane's habit of smoking cigarettes—a habit which, by one +of those curious freaks of character, enormously pleased her father. +But—except in one matter—Martha entirely approved Jane's style of +dress. She hastened to pronounce it "just too elegant" and repeated +that phrase until Jane, tried beyond endurance, warned her that the +word elegant was not used seriously by people of the "right sort" and +that its use was regarded as one of those small but subtle signs of the +loathsome "middle class." +</P> + +<P> +The one thing in Jane's dress that Martha disapproved—or, rather, +shied at—was her riding suit. This was an extremely noisy plaid man's +suit—for Jane rode astride. Martha could not deny that Jane looked +"simply stunning" when seated on her horse and dressed in that garb +with her long slim feet and graceful calves encased in a pair of riding +boots that looked as if they must have cost "something fierce." But +was it really "ladylike"? Hadn't Jane made a mistake and adopted a +costume worn only by the fashionables among the demi-mondaines of whom +Martha had read and had heard such dreadful, delightful stories? +</P> + +<P> +It was the lively plaid that Miss Hastings now clad herself in. She +loved that suit. Not only did it give her figure a superb opportunity +but also it brought out new beauties in her contour and coloring. And +her head was so well shaped and her hair grew so thickly about brow and +ears and nape of neck that it looked full as well plaited and done +close as when it was framing her face and half concealing, half +revealing her charming ears in waves of changeable auburn. After a +lingering—and pardonably pleased—look at herself in a long mirror, +she descended, mounted and rode slowly down toward town. +</P> + +<P> +The old Galland homestead was at the western end of town—in a quarter +that had become almost poor. But it was so dignified and its grounds +were so extensive that it suggested a manor house with the humble homes +of the lord's dependents clustering about it for shelter. To reach it +Jane had to ride through two filthy streets lined with factories. As +she rode she glanced at the windows, where could be seen in dusty air +girls and boys busy at furiously driven machines—machines that +compelled their human slaves to strain every nerve in the monotonous +task of keeping them occupied. Many of the girls and boys paused long +enough for a glance at the figure of the man-clad girl on the big horse. +</P> + +<P> +Jane, happy in the pleasant sunshine, in her beauty and health and fine +raiment and secure and luxurious position in the world, gave a thought +of pity to these imprisoned young people. "How lucky I am," she +thought, "not to have been born like that. Of course, we all have our +falls now and then. But while they always strike on the hard ground, +I've got a feather bed to fall on." +</P> + +<P> +When she reached Martha's and was ushered into the cool upstairs +sitting room, in somehow ghastly contrast to the hot rooms where the +young working people sweated and strained, the subject persisted in its +hold on her thoughts. There was Martha, in comfortable, corsetless +expansiveness—an ideal illustration of the worthless idler fattening +in purposelessness. She was engaged with all her energies in preparing +for the ball Hugo Galland's sister, Mrs. Bertrand, was giving at the +assembly rooms that night. +</P> + +<P> +"I've been hard at it for several days now," said she. "I think at +last I see daylight. But I want your opinion." +</P> + +<P> +Jane gazed absently at the dress and accompanying articles that had +been assembled with so much labor. "All right," said she. "You'll look +fine and dandy." +</P> + +<P> +Martha twitched. "Jane, dear—don't say that—don't use such an +expression. I know it's your way of joking. But lots of people would +think you didn't know any better." +</P> + +<P> +"Let 'em think," said Jane. "I say and do as I please." +</P> + +<P> +Martha sighed. Here was one member of her family who could be a +credit, who could make people forget the unquestionably common origin +of the Hastingses and of the Morleys. Yet this member was always +breaking out into something mortifying, something reminiscent of the +farm and of the livery stable—for the deceased Mrs. Hastings had been +daughter of a livery stable keeper—in fact, had caught Martin Hastings +by the way she rode her father's horses at a sale at a county fair. +Said Martha: +</P> + +<P> +"You haven't really looked at my clothes, Jane. Why DID you go back to +calling yourself Jane?" +</P> + +<P> +"Because it's my name," replied her sister. +</P> + +<P> +"I know that. But you hated it and changed it to Jeanne, which is so +much prettier." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't think so any more," replied Miss Hastings. "My taste has +improved. Don't be so horribly middle class, Martha—ashamed of +everything simple and natural." +</P> + +<P> +"You think you know it all—don't you?—just because you've lived +abroad," said Martha peevishly. +</P> + +<P> +"On the contrary, I don't know one-tenth as much as I thought I did, +when I came back from Wellesley with a diploma." +</P> + +<P> +"Do you like my costume?" inquired Martha, eying her finery with the +fond yet dubious expression of the woman who likes her own taste but is +not sure about its being good taste. +</P> + +<P> +"What a lazy, worthless pair we are!" exclaimed Jane, hitting her boot +leg a tremendous rap with her little cane. +</P> + +<P> +Martha startled. "Good God—Jane—what is it?" she cried. +</P> + +<P> +"On the way here I passed a lot of factories," pursued Jane. "Why +should those people have to work like—like the devil, while we sit +about planning ball dresses?" +</P> + +<P> +Martha settled back comfortably. "I feel so sorry for those poor +people," said she, absently sympathetic. +</P> + +<P> +"But why?" demanded Jane. "WHY? Why should we be allowed to idle +while they have to slave? What have we done—what are we doing—to +entitle us to ease? What have they done to condemn them to pain and +toil?" +</P> + +<P> +"You know very well, Jane, that we represent the finer side of life." +</P> + +<P> +"Slop!" ejaculated Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"For pity's sake, don't let's talk politics," wailed Martha. "I know +nothing about politics. I haven't any brains for that sort of thing." +</P> + +<P> +"Is that politics?" inquired Jane. "I thought politics meant whether +the Democrats or the Republicans or the reformers were to get the +offices and the chance to steal." +</P> + +<P> +"Everything's politics, nowadays," said Martha, comparing the color of +the material of her dress with the color of her fat white arm. "As +Hugo says, that Victor Dorn is dragging everything into politics—even +our private business of how we make and spend our own money." +</P> + +<P> +Jane sat down abruptly. "Victor Dorn," she said in a strange voice. +"WHO is Victor Dorn? WHAT is Victor Dorn? It seems that I can hear of +nothing but Victor Dorn to-day." +</P> + +<P> +"He's too low to talk about," said Martha, amiable and absent. +</P> + +<P> +"Why?" +</P> + +<P> +"Politics," replied Martha. "Really, he is horrid, Jane." +</P> + +<P> +"To look at?" +</P> + +<P> +"No—not to look at. He's handsome in a way. Not at all common +looking. You might take him for a gentleman, if you didn't know. +Still—he always dresses peculiarly—always wears soft hats. I think +soft hats are SO vulgar—don't you?" +</P> + +<P> +"How hopelessly middle-class you are, Martha," mocked Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"Hugo would as soon think of going in the street in a—in a—I don't +know what." +</P> + +<P> +"Hugo is the finest flower of American gentleman. That is, he's the +quintessence of everything that's nice—and 'nasty.' I wish I were +married to him for a week. I love Hugo, but he gives me the creeps." +She rose and tramped restlessly about the room. "You both give me the +creeps. Everything conventional gives me the creeps. If I'm not +careful I'll dress myself in a long shirt, let down my hair and run +wild." +</P> + +<P> +"What nonsense you do talk," said Martha composedly. +</P> + +<P> +Jane sat down abruptly. "So I do!" she said. "I'm as poor a creature +as you at bottom. I simply like to beat against the bars of my cage to +make myself think I'm a wild, free bird by nature. If you opened the +door, I'd not fly out, but would hop meekly back to my perch and fall +to smoothing my feathers.... Tell me some more about Victor Dorn." +</P> + +<P> +"I told you he isn't fit to talk about," said Martha. "Do you know, +they say now that he is carrying on with that shameless, brazen thing +who writes for his paper, that Selma Gordon?" +</P> + +<P> +"Selma Gordon," echoed Jane. Her brows came down in a gesture +reminiscent of her father, and there was a disagreeable expression +about her mouth and in her light brown eyes. "Who's Selma Gordon?" +</P> + +<P> +"She makes speeches—and writes articles against rich people—and—oh, +she's horrid." +</P> + +<P> +"Pretty?" +</P> + +<P> +"No—a scrawny, black thing. The men—some of them—say she's got a +kind of uncanny fascination. Some even insist that she's beautiful." +Martha laughed. "Beautiful! How could a woman with black hair and a +dark skin and no flesh on her bones be beautiful?" +</P> + +<P> +"It has been known to happen," said Jane curtly. "Is she one of THE +Gordons?" +</P> + +<P> +"Mercy, no!" cried Martha Galland. "She simply took the name of +Gordon—that is, her father did. He was a Russian peasant—a Jew. And +he fell in love with a girl who was of noble family—a princess, I +think." +</P> + +<P> +"Princess doesn't mean much in Russia," said Jane sourly. +</P> + +<P> +"Anyhow, they ran away to this country. And he worked in the rolling +mill here—and they both died—and Selma became a factory girl—and +then took to writing for the New Day—that's Victor Dorn's paper, you +know." +</P> + +<P> +"How romantic," said Jane sarcastically. "And now Victor Dorn's in +love with her?" +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't say that," replied Martha, with a scandal-smile. +</P> + +<P> +Jane Hastings went to the window and gazed out into the garden. Martha +resumed her habitual warm day existence—sat rocking gently and fanning +herself and looking leisurely about the room. Presently she said: +</P> + +<P> +"Jane, why don't you marry Davy Hull?" +</P> + +<P> +No answer. +</P> + +<P> +"He's got an independent income—so there's no question of his marrying +for money. And there isn't any family anywhere that's better than +his—mighty few as good. And he's DEAD in love with you, Jen." +</P> + +<P> +With her back still turned Jane snapped, "I'd rather marry Victor Dorn." +</P> + +<P> +"What OUTRAGEOUS things you do say!" cried Martha. +</P> + +<P> +"I envy that black Jewess—that—what's her name?—that Selma Gordon." +</P> + +<P> +"You don't even know them," said Martha. +</P> + +<P> +Jane wheeled round with a strange laugh. "Don't I?" cried she. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know anyone else." +</P> + +<P> +She strode to her sister and tapped her lightly on the shoulder with +the riding stick. +</P> + +<P> +"Be careful," cautioned Martha. "You know how easily my flesh +mars—and I'm going to wear my low neck to-night." +</P> + +<P> +Jane did not heed. "David Hull is a bore—and a fraud," she said. "I +tell you I'd rather marry Victor Dorn." +</P> + +<P> +"Do be careful about my skin, dear," pleaded Martha. "Hugo'll be SO +put out if there's a mark on it. He's very proud of my skin." +</P> + +<P> +Jane looked at her quizzically. "What a dear, fat old rotter of a +respectability it is, to be sure," said she—and strode from the room, +and from the house. +</P> + +<P> +Her mood of perversity and defiance did not yield to a ten mile gallop +over the gentle hills of that lovely part of Indiana, but held on +through the afternoon and controlled her toilet for the ball. She knew +that every girl in town would appear at that most fashionable party of +the summer season in the best clothing she could get together. As she +had several dresses from Paris which she not without reason regarded as +notable works of art, the opportunity to outshine was hers—the sort of +opportunity she took pleasure in using to the uttermost, as a rule. +But to be the best dressed woman at Mrs. Bertram's party was too easy +and too commonplace. To be the worst dressed would call for +courage—of just the sort she prided herself on having. Also, it would +look original, would cause talk—would give her the coveted sense of +achievement. +</P> + +<P> +When she descended to show herself to her father and say good night to +him, she was certainly dressed by the same pattern that caused him to +be talked about throughout that region. Her gown was mussed, had been +mended obviously in several places, had not been in its best day +becoming. But this was not all. Her hair looked stringy and +dishevelled. She was delighted with herself. Except during an illness +two years before never had she come so near to being downright homely. +"Martha will die of shame," said she to herself. "And Mrs. Bertram +will spend the evening explaining me to everybody." She did not +definitely formulate the thought, "And I shall be the most talked about +person of the evening"; but it was in her mind none the less. +</P> + +<P> +Her father always smoked his after-dinner cigar in a little room just +off the library. It was filled up with the plain cheap furniture and +the chromos and mottoes which he and his wife had bought when they +first went to housekeeping—in their early days of poverty and +struggle. On the south wall was a crude and cheap, but startlingly +large enlargement of an old daguerreotype of Letitia Hastings at +twenty-four—the year after her marriage and the year before the birth +of the oldest child, Robert, called Dock, now piling up a fortune as an +insider in the Chicago "brave" game of wheat and pork, which it is +absurd to call gambling because gambling involves chance. To smoke the +one cigar the doctor allowed him, old Martin Hastings always seated +himself before this picture. He found it and his thoughts the best +company in the world, just as he had found her silent self and her +thoughts the best company in their twenty-one years of married life. +As he sat there, sometimes he thought of her—of what they had been +through together, of the various advances in his fortune—how this one +had been made near such and such anniversary, and that one between two +other anniversaries—and what he had said to her and what she had said +to him. Again—perhaps oftener—he did not think of her directly, any +more than he had thought of her when they sat together evening after +evening, year in and year out, through those twenty-one years of +contented and prosperous life. +</P> + +<P> +As Jane entered he, seated back to the door, said: +</P> + +<P> +"About that there Dorn damage suit——" +</P> + +<P> +Jane started, caught her breath. Really, it was uncanny, this +continual thrusting of Victor Dorn at her. +</P> + +<P> +"It wasn't so bad as it looked," continued her father. He was speaking +in the quiet voice—quiet and old and sad—he always used when seated +before the picture. +</P> + +<P> +"You see, Jenny, in them days"—also, in presence of the picture he +lapsed completely into the dialect of his youth—"in them days the +railroad was teetering and I couldn't tell which way things'd jump. +Every cent counted." +</P> + +<P> +"I understand perfectly, father," said Jane, her hands on his shoulders +from behind. She felt immensely relieved. She did not realize that +every doer of a mean act always has an excellent excuse for it. +</P> + +<P> +"Then afterwards," the old man went on, "the family was getting along +so well—the boy was working steady and making good money and pushing +ahead—and I was afeared I'd do harm instead of good. It's mighty +dangerous, Jen, to give money sudden to folks that ain't used to it. +I've seen many a smash-up come that way. And your ma—she thought so, +too—kind of." +</P> + +<P> +The "kind of" was advanced hesitatingly, with an apologetic side glance +at the big crayon portrait. But Jane was entirely convinced. She was +average human; therefore, she believed what she wished to believe. +</P> + +<P> +"You were quite right, father," said she. "I knew you couldn't do a +bad thing—wouldn't deliberately strike at weak, helpless people. And +now, it can be straightened out and the Dorns will be all the better +for not having been tempted in the days when it might have ruined them." +</P> + +<P> +She had walked round where her father could see her, as she delivered +herself of this speech so redolent of the fumes of collegiate smugness. +He proceeded to examine her—with an expression of growing +dissatisfaction. Said he fretfully: +</P> + +<P> +"You don't calculate to go out, looking like that?" +</P> + +<P> +"Out to the swellest blow-out of the year, popsy," said she. +</P> + +<P> +The big heavy looking head wobbled about uneasily. "You look too much +like your old pappy's daughter," said he. +</P> + +<P> +"I can afford to," replied she. +</P> + +<P> +The head shook positively. "You ma wouldn't 'a liked it. She was +mighty partic'lar how she dressed." +</P> + +<P> +Jane laughed gayly. "Why, when did you become a critic of women's +dress?" cried she. +</P> + +<P> +"I always used to buy yer ma dresses and hats when I went to the city," +said he. "And she looked as good as the best—not for these days, but +for them times." He looked critically at the portrait. "I bought them +clothes and awful dear they seemed to me." His glance returned to his +daughter. "Go get yourself up proper," said he, between request and +command. "SHE wouldn't 'a liked it." +</P> + +<P> +Jane gazed at the common old crayon, suddenly flung her arms round the +old man's neck. "Yes—father," she murmured. "To please HER." +</P> + +<P> +She fled; the old man wiped his eyes, blew his nose and resumed the +careful smoking of the cheap, smelly cigar. He said he preferred that +brand of his days of poverty; and it was probably true, as he would +refuse better cigars offered him by fastidious men who hoped to save +themselves from the horrors of his. He waited restlessly, though it +was long past his bedtime; he yawned and pretended to listen while Davy +Hull, who had called for Jane in the Hull brougham, tried to make a +favorable impression upon him. At last Jane reappeared—and certainly +Letitia Hastings would have been more than satisfied. +</P> + +<P> +"Sorry to keep you waiting," said she to Hull, who was speechless and +tremulous before her voluptuous radiance. "But father didn't like the +way I was rigged out. Maybe I'll have to change again." +</P> + +<P> +"Take her along, Davy," said Hastings, his big head wagging with +delight. "She's a caution—SHE is!" +</P> + +<P> +Hull could not control himself to speak. As they sat in the carriage, +she finishing the pulling on of her gloves, he stared out into the +heavy rain that was deluging the earth and bending low the boughs. +Said she, half way down the hill: +</P> + +<P> +"Well—can't you talk about anything but Victor Dorn?" +</P> + +<P> +"I saw him this afternoon," said Hull, glad that the tension of the +silence was broken. +</P> + +<P> +"Then you've got something to talk about." +</P> + +<P> +"The big street car strike is on." +</P> + +<P> +"So father said at dinner. I suppose Victor Dorn caused it." +</P> + +<P> +"No—he's opposed to it. He's queer. I don't exactly understand his +ideas. He says strikes are ridiculous—that it's like trying to cure +smallpox by healing up one single sore." +</P> + +<P> +Jane gave a shiver of lady-like disgust. "How—nasty," said she. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm telling you what he said. But he says that the only way human +beings learn how to do things right is by doing them wrong—so while +he's opposed to strikes he's also in favor of them." +</P> + +<P> +"Even <I>I</I> understand that," said Jane. "I don't think it's difficult." +</P> + +<P> +"Doesn't it strike you as—as inconsistent?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh—bother consistency!" scoffed the girl. "That's another middle +class virtue that sensible people loathe as a vice. Anyhow, he's +helping the strikers all he can—and fighting US. You know, your father +and my father's estate are the two biggest owners of the street +railways." +</P> + +<P> +"I must get his paper," said Jane. "I'll have a lot of fun reading the +truth about us." +</P> + +<P> +But David wasn't listening. He was deep in thought. After a while he +said: "It's amazing—and splendid—and terrible, what power he's +getting in our town. Victor Dorn, I mean." +</P> + +<P> +"Always Victor Dorn," mocked Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"When he started—twelve years ago as a boy of twenty, just out of +college and working as a carpenter—when he started, he was alone and +poor, and without friends or anything. He built up little by little, +winning one man at a time—the fellow working next him on his right, +then the chap working on his left—in the shop—and so on, one man +after another. And whenever he got a man he held him—made him as +devoted—as—as fanatical as he is himself. Now he's got a band of +nearly a thousand. There are ten thousand voters in this town. So, +he's got only one in ten. But what a thousand!" +</P> + +<P> +Jane was gazing out into the rain, her eyes bright, her lips parted. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you listening?" asked Hull. "Or, am I boring you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Go on," said she. +</P> + +<P> +"They're a thousand missionaries—apostles—yes, apostle is the name +for them. They live and breathe and think and talk only the ideas +Victor Dorn believes and fights for. And whenever he wants anything +done—anything for the cause—why, there are a thousand men ready to do +it." +</P> + +<P> +"Why?" said Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"Victor Dorn," said Hull. "Do you wonder that he interests me? For +instance, to-night: you see how it's raining. Well, Victor Dorn had +them print to-day fifty thousand leaflets about this strike—what it +means to his cause. And he has asked five hundred of his men to stand +on the corners and patrol the streets and distribute those dodgers. +I'll bet not a man will be missing." +</P> + +<P> +"But why?" repeated Jane. "What for?" +</P> + +<P> +"He wants to conquer this town. He says the world has to be +conquered—and that the way to begin is to begin—and that he has +begun." +</P> + +<P> +"Conquer it for what?" +</P> + +<P> +"For himself, I guess," said Hull. "Of course, he professes that it's +for the public good. They all do. But what's the truth?" +</P> + +<P> +"If I saw him I could tell you," said Jane in the full pride of her +belief in her woman's power of divination in character. +</P> + +<P> +"However, he can't succeed," observed Hull. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yes, he can," replied Jane. "And will. Even if every idea he had +were foolish and wrong. And it isn't—is it?" +</P> + +<P> +David laughed peculiarly. "He's infernally uncomfortably right in most +of the things he charges and proposes. I don't like to think about +it." He shut his teeth together. "I WON'T think about it," he +muttered. +</P> + +<P> +"No—you'd better stick to your own road, Davy," said Jane with +irritating mockery. "You were born to be thoroughly conventional and +respectable. As a reformer you're ideal. As a—an imitator of Victor +Dorn, you'd be a joke." +</P> + +<P> +"There's one of his men now," exclaimed Hull, leaning forward excitedly. +</P> + +<P> +Jane looked. A working man, a commonplace enough object, was standing +under the corner street lamp, the water running off his hat, his +shoulders, his coat tail. His package of dodgers was carefully +shielded by an oilcloth from the wet which had full swing at the man. +To every passer-by he presented a dodger, accompanying the polite +gesture with some phrase which seemed to move the man or woman to take +what was offered and to put it away instead of dropping it. +</P> + +<P> +Jane sank back in the carriage, disappointed. "Is that all?" said she +disdainfully. +</P> + +<P> +"ALL?" cried Hull. "Use your imagination, Jen. But I forgot—you're a +woman. They see only surfaces." +</P> + +<P> +"And are snared into marrying by complexions and pretty features and +dresses and silly flirting tricks," retorted the girl sarcastically. +</P> + +<P> +Hull laughed. "I spoke too quick that time," said he. "I suppose you +expected to see something out of a fifteenth century Italian old +master! Well—it was there, all right." +</P> + +<P> +Jane shrugged her shoulders. "And your Victor Dorn," said she, "no +doubt he's seated in some dry, comfortable place enjoying the thought +of his men making fools of themselves for him." +</P> + +<P> +They were drawing up to the curb before the Opera House where were the +assembly rooms. "There he is now," cried Hull. +</P> + +<P> +Jane, startled, leaned eagerly forward. In the rain beyond the edge of +the awning stood a dripping figure not unlike that other which had so +disappointed her. Underneath the brim of the hat she could see a +smooth-shaven youngish face—almost boyish. But the rain streaming +from the brim made satisfactory scrutiny impossible. +</P> + +<P> +Jane again sank back. "How many carriages before us?" she said. +</P> + +<P> +"You're disappointed in him, too, I suppose," said Hull. "I knew you +would be." +</P> + +<P> +"I thought he was tall," said Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"Only middling," replied Hull, curiously delighted. +</P> + +<P> +"I thought he was serious," said Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"On the contrary, he's always laughing. He's the best natured man I +know." +</P> + +<P> +As they descended and started along the carpet under the middle of the +awning, Jane halted. She glanced toward the dripping figure whom the +police would not permit under the shelter. Said she: "I want one of +those papers." +</P> + +<P> +Davy moved toward the drenched distributor of strike literature. "Give +me one, Dorn," he said in his most elegant manner. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure, Davy," said Dorn in a tone that was a subtle commentary on +Hull's aristocratic tone and manner. As he spoke he glanced at Jane; +she was looking at him. Both smiled—at Davy's expense. +</P> + +<P> +Davy and Jane passed on in, Jane folding the dodger to tuck it away for +future reading. She said to him: "But you didn't tell me about his +eyes." +</P> + +<P> +"What's the matter with them?" +</P> + +<P> +"Everything," replied she—and said no more. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap02"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +II +</H3> + +<P> +The dance was even more tiresome than Jane had anticipated. There had +been little pleasure in outshining the easily outshone belles of Remsen +City. She had felt humiliated by having to divide the honors with a +brilliantly beautiful and scandalously audacious Chicago girl, a Yvonne +Hereford—whose style, in looks, in dress and in wit, was more +comfortable to the standard of the best young men of Remsen City—a +standard which Miss Hastings, cultivated by foreign travel and social +adventure, regarded as distinctly poor, not to say low. Miss +Hereford's audacities were especially offensive to Jane. Jane was +audacious herself, but she flattered herself that she had a delicate +sense of that baffling distinction between the audacity that is the +hall mark of the lady and the audacity that proclaims the not-lady. +For example, in such apparently trifling matters as the way of smoking +a cigarette, the way of crossing the legs or putting the elbows on the +table or using slang, Jane found a difference, abysmal though narrow, +between herself and Yvonne Hereford. "But then, her very name gives her +away," reflected Jane. "There'd surely be a frightfully cheap streak in +a mother who in this country would name her daughter Yvonne—or in a +girl who would name herself that." +</P> + +<P> +However, Jane Hastings was not deeply annoyed either by the +shortcomings of Remsen City young men or by the rivalry of Miss +Hereford. Her dissatisfaction was personal—the feeling of futility, +of cheapness, in having dressed herself in her best and spent a whole +evening at such unworthy business. "Whatever I am or am not fit for," +said she to herself, "I'm not for society—any kind of society. At +least I'm too much grown-up mentally for that." Her disdainful +thoughts about others were, on this occasion as almost always, merely a +mode of expressing her self-scorn. +</P> + +<P> +As she was undressing she found in her party bag the dodger Hull had +got for her from Victor Dorn. She, sitting at her dressing table, +started to read it at once. But her attention soon wandered. "I'm not +in the mood," she said. "To-morrow." And she tossed it into the top +drawer. The fact was, the subject of politics interested her only when +some man in whom she was interested was talking it to her. In a +general way she understood things political, but like almost all women +and all but a few men she could fasten her attention only on things +directly and clearly and nearly related to her own interests. Politics +seemed to her to be not at all related to her—or, indeed, to anybody +but the men running for office. This dodger was politics, pure and +simple. A plea to workingmen to awaken to the fact that their STRIKES +were stupid and wasteful, that the way to get better pay and decent +hours of labor was by uniting, taking possession of the power that was +rightfully theirs and regulating their own affairs. +</P> + +<P> +She resumed fixing her hair for the night. Her glance bent steadily +downward at one stage of this performance, rested unseeingly upon the +handbill folded printed side out and on top of the contents of the open +drawer. She happened to see two capital letters—S.G.—in a line by +themselves at the end of the print. She repeated them mechanically +several times—"S.G.—S.G.—S.G."—then her hands fell from her hair +upon the handbill. She settled herself to read in earnest. +</P> + +<P> +"Selma Gordon," she said. "That's different." +</P> + +<P> +She would have had some difficulty in explaining to herself why it was +"different." She read closely, concentratedly now. She tried to read +in an attitude of unfriendly criticism, but she could not. A dozen +lines, and the clear, earnest, honest sentences had taken hold of her. +How sensible the statements were, and how obviously true. Why, it +wasn't the writing of an "anarchistic crank" at all—on the contrary, +the writer was if anything more excusing toward the men who were giving +the drivers and motormen a dollar and ten cents a day for fourteen +hours' work—"fourteen hours!" cried Jane, her cheeks burning—yes, +Selma Gordon was more tolerant of the owners of the street car line +than Jane herself would have been. +</P> + +<P> +When Jane had read, she gazed at the print with sad envy in her eyes. +"Selma Gordon can think—and she can write, too," said she half aloud. +"I want to know her—too." +</P> + +<P> +That "too" was the first admission to herself of a curiously intense +desire to meet Victor Dorn. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, to be in earnest about something! To have a real interest! To +find something to do besides the nursery games disguised under new +forms for the grown-up yet never to be grown-up infants of the world. +And THAT kind of politics doesn't sound shallow and dull. There's +heart in it—and brains—real brains—not merely nasty little +self-seeking cunning." She took up the handbill again and read a +paragraph set in bolder type: +</P> + +<P> +"The reason we of the working class are slaves is because we haven't +intelligence enough to be our own masters, let alone masters of anybody +else. The talk of equality, workingmen, is nonsense to flatter your +silly, ignorant vanity. We are not the equals of our masters. They +know more than we do, and naturally they use that knowledge to make us +work for them. So, even if you win in this strike or in all your +strikes, you will not much better yourselves. Because you are ignorant +and foolish, your masters will scheme around and take from you in some +other way what you have wrenched from them in the strike. +</P> + +<P> +"Organize! Think! Learn! Then you will rise out of the dirt where +you wallow with your wives and your children. Don't blame your +masters; they don't enslave you. They don't keep you in slavery. Your +chains are of your own forging and only you can strike them off!" +</P> + +<P> +Certainly no tenement house woman could be lazier, emptier of head, +more inane of life than her sister Martha. "She wouldn't even keep +clean if it wasn't the easiest thing in the world for her to do, and a +help at filling in her long idle day." Yet—Martha Galland had every +comfort and most of the luxuries, was as sheltered from all the +hardships as a hot-house flower. Then there was Hugo—to go no further +afield than the family. Had he ever done an honest hour's work in his +life? Could anyone have less brains than he? Yet Hugo was rich and +respected, was a director in big corporations, was a member of a +first-class law firm. "It isn't fair," thought the girl. "I've always +felt it. I see now why. It's a bad system of taking from the many for +the benefit of us few. And it's kept going by a few clever, strong men +like father. They work for themselves and their families and relatives +and for their class—and the rest of the people have to suffer." +</P> + +<P> +She did not fall asleep for several hours, such was the tumult in her +aroused brain. The first thing the next morning she went down town, +bought copies of the New Day—for that week and for a few preceding +weeks—and retreated to her favorite nook in her father's grounds to +read and to think—and to plan. She searched the New Day in vain for +any of the wild, wandering things Davy and her father had told her +Victor Dorn was putting forth. The four pages of each number were +given over either to philosophical articles no more "anarchistic" than +Emerson's essays, not so much so as Carlyle's, or to plain accounts of +the current stealing by the politicians of Remsen City, of the squalor +and disease—danger in the tenements, of the outrages by the gas and +water and street car companies. There was much that was terrible, much +that was sad, much that was calculated to make an honest heart burn +with indignation against those who were cheerily sacrificing the whole +community to their desire for profits and dividends and graft, public +and private. But there was also a great deal of humor—of rather a +sardonic kind, but still seeing the fantastic side of this grand game +of swindle. +</P> + +<P> +Two paragraphs made an especial impression on her: +</P> + +<P> +"Remsen City is no worse—and no better—than other American cities. +It's typical. But we who live here needn't worry about the rest of the +country. The thing for us to do is to CLEAN UP AT HOME." +</P> + +<P> +"We are more careful than any paper in this town about verifying every +statement we make, before we make it. If we should publish a single +statement about anyone that was false even in part we would be +suppressed. The judges, the bosses, the owners of the big +blood-sucking public service corporations, the whole ruling class, are +eager to put us out of existence. Don't forget this fact when you hear +the New Day called a lying, demagogical sheet." +</P> + +<P> +With the paper beside her on the rustic bench, she fell to +dreaming—not of a brighter and better world, of a wiser and freer +race, but of Victor Dorn, the personality that had unaided become such +a power in Remsen City, the personality that sparkled and glowed in the +interesting pages of the New Day, that made its sentences read as if +they were spoken into your very ears by an earnest, honest voice +issuing from a fascinating, humor-loving, intensely human and natural +person before your very eyes. But it was not round Victor Dorn's brain +that her imagination played. +</P> + +<P> +"After all," thought she, "Napoleon wasn't much over five feet. Most +of the big men have been little men. Of course, there were +Alexander—and Washington—and Lincoln, but—how silly to bother about +a few inches of height, more or less! And he wasn't really SHORT. Let +me see—how high did he come on Davy when Davy was standing near him? +Above his shoulder—and Davy's six feet two or three. He's at least as +tall as I am—anyhow, in my ordinary heels." +</P> + +<P> +She was attracted by both the personalities she discovered in the +little journal. She believed she could tell them apart. About some of +the articles, the shorter ones, she was doubtful. But in those of any +length she could feel that difference which enables one to distinguish +the piano touch of a player in another room—whether it is male or +female. Presently she was searching for an excuse for scraping +acquaintance with this pair of pariahs—pariahs so far as her world was +concerned. And soon she found it. The New Day was taking +subscriptions for a fund to send sick children and their mothers to the +country for a vacation from the dirt and heat of the tenements—for +Remsen City, proud though it was and boastful of its prosperity, housed +most of its inhabitants in slums—though of course that low sort of +people oughtn't really to be counted—except for purposes of swelling +census figures—and to do all the rough and dirty work necessary to +keep civilization going. +</P> + +<P> +She would subscribe to this worthy charity—and would take her +subscription, herself. Settled—easily and well settled. She did not +involve herself, or commit herself in any way. Besides, those who +might find out and might think she had overstepped the bounds would +excuse her on the ground that she had not been back at home long and +did not realize what she was doing. +</P> + +<P> +What should she wear? +</P> + +<P> +Her instinct was for an elaborate toilet—a descent in state—or such +state as the extremely limited resources of Martin Hastings' stables +would permit. The traps he had ordered for her had not yet come; she +had been glad to accept David Hull's offer of a lift the night before. +Still, without a carriage or a motor she could make quite an impression +with a Paris walking dress and hat, properly supported by fashionable +accessories of the toilet. +</P> + +<P> +Good sense and good taste forbade these promptings of nature. No, she +would dress most simply—in her very plainest things—taking care to +maintain all her advantages of face and figure. If she overwhelmed +Dorn and Miss Gordon, she would defeat her own purpose—would not +become acquainted with them. +</P> + +<P> +In the end she rejected both courses and decided for the riding +costume. The reason she gave for this decision—the reason she gave +herself—was that the riding costume would invest the call with an air +of accident, of impulse. The real reason. +</P> + +<P> +It may be that some feminine reader can guess why she chose the most +startling, the most gracefully becoming, the most artlessly physical +apparel in her wardrobe. +</P> + +<P> +She said nothing to her father at lunch about her plans. Why should +she speak of them? He might oppose; also, she might change her mind. +After lunch she set out on her usual ride, galloping away into the +hills—but she had put twenty-five dollars in bills in her trousers +pocket. She rode until she felt that her color was at its best, and +then she made for town—a swift, direct ride, her heart beating high as +if she were upon a most daring and fateful adventure. And, as a matter +of fact, never in her life had she done anything that so intensely +interested her. She felt that she was for the first time slackening +rein upon those unconventional instincts, of unknown strength and +purpose, which had been making her restless with their vague stirrings. +</P> + +<P> +"How silly of me!" she thought. "I'm doing a commonplace, rather +common thing—and I'm trying to make it seem a daring, romantic +adventure. I MUST be hard up for excitement!" +</P> + +<P> +Toward the middle of the afternoon she dropped from her horse before +the office of the New Day and gave a boy the bridle. "I'll be back in a +minute," she explained. It was a two-story frame building, dingy and +in disrepair. On the street floor was a grocery. Access to the New +Day was by a rickety stairway. As she ascended this, making a great +noise on its unsteady boards with her boots, she began to feel cheap +and foolish. She recalled what Hull had said in the carriage. "No +doubt," replied she, "I'd feel much the same way if I were going to see +Jesus Christ—a carpenter's son, sitting in some hovel, talking with +his friends the fishermen and camel drivers—not to speak of the women." +</P> + +<P> +The New Day occupied two small rooms—an editorial work room, and a +printing work room behind it. Jane Hastings, in the doorway at the +head of the stairs, was seeing all there was to see. In the editorial +room were two tables—kitchen tables, littered with papers and +journals, as was the floor, also. At the table directly opposite the +door no one was sitting—"Victor Dorn's desk," Jane decided. At the +table by the open window sat a girl, bent over her writing. Jane saw +that the figure was below, probably much below, the medium height for +woman, that it was slight and strong, that it was clad in a simple, +clean gray linen dress. The girl's black hair, drawn into a plain but +distinctly graceful knot, was of that dense and wavy thickness which is +a characteristic and a beauty of the Hebrew race. The skin at the nape +of her neck, on her hands, on her arms bare to the elbows was of a +beautiful dead-white—the skin that so admirably compliments dead-black +hair. +</P> + +<P> +Before disturbing this busy writer Jane glanced round. There was +nothing to detain her in the view of the busy printing plant in the +room beyond. But on the walls of the room before her were four +pictures—lithographs, cheap, not framed, held in place by a tack at +each corner. There was Washington—then Lincoln—then a copy of +Leonardo's Jesus in the Last Supper fresco—and a fourth face, bearded, +powerful, imperious, yet wonderfully kind and good humored—a face she +did not know. Pointing her riding stick at it she said: +</P> + +<P> +"And who is that?" +</P> + +<P> +With a quick but not in the least a startled movement the girl at the +table straightened her form, turned in her chair, saying, as she did +so, without having seen the pointing stick: +</P> + +<P> +"That is Marx—Karl Marx." +</P> + +<P> +Jane was so astonished by the face she was now seeing—the face of the +girl—that she did not hear the reply. The girl's hair and skin had +reminded her of what Martha had told her about the Jewish, or +half-Jewish, origin of Selma Gordon. Thus, she assumed that she would +see a frankly Jewish face. Instead, the face looking at her from +beneath the wealth of thick black hair, carelessly parted near the +centre, was Russian—was Cossack—strange and primeval, intense, dark, +as superbly alive as one of those exuberant tropical flowers that seem +to cry out the mad joy of life. Only, those flowers suggest the +evanescent, the flame burning so fiercely that it must soon burn out, +while this Russian girl declared that life was eternal. You could not +think of her as sick, as old, as anything but young and vigorous and +vivid, as full of energy as a healthy baby that kicks its dresses into +rags and wears out the strength of its strapping nurse. Her nose was +as straight as Jane's own particularly fine example of nose. Her dark +gray eyes, beneath long, slender, coal black lines of brow, were +brimming with life and with fun. She had a wide, frank, scarlet mouth; +her teeth were small and sharp and regular, and of the strong and +healthy shade of white. She had a very small, but a very resolute +chin. With another quick, free movement she stood up. She was indeed +small, but formed in proportion. She seemed out of harmony with her +linen dress. She looked as if she ought to be careening on the steppes +in some romantic, half-savage costume. Jane's first and instant +thought was, "There's not another like her in the whole world. She's +the only living specimen of her kind." +</P> + +<P> +"Gracious!" exclaimed Jane. "But you ARE healthy." +</P> + +<P> +The smile took full advantage of the opportunity to broaden into a +laugh. A most flattering expression of frank, childlike admiration +came into the dark gray eyes. "You're not sickly, yourself," replied +Selma. Jane was disappointed that the voice was not untamed Cossack, +but was musically civilized. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, but I don't flaunt it as you do," rejoined Jane. "You'd make +anyone who was the least bit off, furious." +</P> + +<P> +Selma, still with the child-like expression, but now one of curiosity, +was examining Jane's masculine riding dress. "What a sensible suit!" +she cried, delightedly. "I'd wear something like that all the time, if +I dared." +</P> + +<P> +"Dared?" said Jane. "You don't look like the frightened sort." +</P> + +<P> +"Not on account of myself," explained Selma. "On account of the cause. +You see, we are fighting for a new idea. So, we have to be careful not +to offend people's prejudices about ideas not so important. If we went +in for everything that's sensible, we'd be regarded as cranks. One +thing at a time." +</P> + +<P> +Jane's glance shifted to the fourth picture. "Didn't you say that +was—Karl Marx?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"He wrote a book on political economy. I tried to read it at college. +But I couldn't. It was too heavy for me. He was a Socialist—wasn't +he?—the founder of Socialism?" +</P> + +<P> +"A great deal more than that," replied Selma. "He was the most +important man for human liberty that ever lived—except perhaps one." +And she looked at Leonardo's "man of sorrows and acquainted with grief." +</P> + +<P> +"Marx was a—a Hebrew—wasn't he?" +</P> + +<P> +Selma's eyes danced, and Jane felt that she was laughing at her +hesitation and choice of the softer word. Selma said: +</P> + +<P> +"Yes—he was a Jew. Both were Jews." +</P> + +<P> +"Both?" inquired Jane, puzzled. +</P> + +<P> +"Marx and Jesus," explained Selma. +</P> + +<P> +Jane was startled. "So HE was a Jew—wasn't He?" +</P> + +<P> +"And they were both labor leaders—labor agitators. The first one +proclaimed the brotherhood of man. But he regarded this world as +hopeless and called on the weary and heavy laden masses to look to the +next world for the righting of their wrongs. Then—eighteen centuries +after—came that second Jew"—Selma looked passionate, reverent +admiration at the powerful, bearded face, so masterful, yet so +kind—"and he said: 'No! not in the hereafter, but in the here. Here +and now, my brothers. Let us make this world a heaven. Let us redeem +ourselves and destroy the devil of ignorance who is holding us in this +hell.' It was three hundred years before that first Jew began to +triumph. It won't be so long before there are monuments to Marx in +clean and beautiful and free cities all over the earth." +</P> + +<P> +Jane listened intensely. There was admiring envy in her eyes as she +cried: "How splendid!—to believe in something—and work for it and +live for it—as you do!" +</P> + +<P> +Selma laughed, with a charming little gesture of the shoulders and the +hands that reminded Jane of her foreign parentage. "Nothing else seems +worth while," said she. "Nothing else is worth while. There are only +two entirely great careers—to be a teacher of the right kind and work +to ease men's minds—as those four did—or to be a doctor of the right +kind and work to make mankind healthy. All the suffering, all the +crime, all the wickedness, comes from ignorance or bad health—or both. +Usually it's simply bad health." +</P> + +<P> +Jane felt as if she were devoured of thirst and drinking at a fresh, +sparkling spring. "I never thought of that before," said she. +</P> + +<P> +"If you find out all about any criminal, big or little, you'll discover +that he had bad health—poisons in his blood that goaded him on." +</P> + +<P> +Jane nodded. "Whenever I'm difficult to get on with, I'm always not +quite well." +</P> + +<P> +"I can see that your disposition is perfect, when you are well," said +Selma. +</P> + +<P> +"And yours," said Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I'm never out of humor," said Selma. "You see, I'm never +sick—not the least bit." +</P> + +<P> +"You are Miss Gordon, aren't you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes—I'm Selma Gordon." +</P> + +<P> +"My name is Jane Hastings." Then as this seemed to convey nothing to +Selma, Jane added: "I'm not like you. I haven't an individuality of +my own—that anybody knows about. So, I'll have to identify myself by +saying that I'm Martin Hastings' daughter." +</P> + +<P> +Jane confidently expected that this announcement would cause some sort +of emotion—perhaps of awe, perhaps of horror, certainly of interest. +She was disappointed. If Selma felt anything she did not show it—and +Jane was of the opinion that it would be well nigh impossible for so +direct and natural a person to conceal. Jane went on: +</P> + +<P> +"I read in your paper about your fund for sick children. I was riding +past your office—saw the sign—and I've come in to give what I happen +to have about me." She drew out the small roll of bills and handed it +to Selma. +</P> + +<P> +The Russian girl—if it is fair thus to characterize one so intensely +American in manner, in accent and in speech—took the money and said: +</P> + +<P> +"We'll acknowledge it in the paper next week." +</P> + +<P> +Jane flushed and a thrill of alarm ran through her. "Oh—please—no," +she urged. "I'd not like to have my name mentioned. That would look +as if I had done it to seem charitable. Besides, it's such a trifle." +</P> + +<P> +Selma was calm and apparently unsuspicious. "Very well," said she. +"We'll write, telling what we did with the money, so that you can +investigate." +</P> + +<P> +"But I trust you entirely," cried Jane. +</P> + +<P> +Selma shook her head. "But we don't wish to be trusted," said she. +"Only dishonest people wish to be trusted when it's possible to avoid +trusting. And we all need watching. It helps us to keep straight." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I don't agree with you," protested Miss Hastings. "Lots of the +time I'd hate to be watched. I don't want everybody to know all I do." +</P> + +<P> +Selma's eyes opened. "Why not?" she said. +</P> + +<P> +Jane cast about for a way to explain what seemed to her a self-evident +truth. "I mean—privacy," she said. "For instance, if you were in +love, you'd not want everybody to know about it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, indeed," declared Selma. "I'd be tremendously proud of it. It +must be wonderful to be in love." +</P> + +<P> +In one of those curious twists of feminine nature, Miss Hastings +suddenly felt the glow of a strong, unreserved liking for this strange, +candid girl. +</P> + +<P> +Selma went on: "But I'm afraid I never shall be. I get no time to +think about myself. From rising till bed time my work pushes at me." +She glanced uneasily at her desk, apologetically at Miss Hastings. "I +ought to be writing this minute. The strike is occupying Victor, and +I'm helping out with his work." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm interrupting," said Jane. "I'll go." She put out her hand with +her best, her sweetest smile. "We're going to be friends—aren't we?" +</P> + +<P> +Selma clasped her hand heartily and said: "We ARE friends. I like +everybody. There's always something to like in everyone—and the bad +part isn't their fault. But it isn't often that I like anyone so much +as I do you. You are so direct and honest—quite different from the +other women of your class that I've met." +</P> + +<P> +Jane felt unaccountably grateful and humble. "I'm afraid you're too +generous. I guess you're not a very good judge of people," she said. +</P> + +<P> +"So Victor—Victor Dorn—says," laughed Selma. "He says I'm too +confiding. Well—why not? And really, he trusts everybody, +too—except with the cause. Then he's—he's"—she glanced from face to +face of the four pictures—"he's like those men." +</P> + +<P> +Jane's glance followed Selma's. She said: "Yes—I should imagine +so—from what I've heard." She startled, flushed, hid behind a +somewhat constrained manner. "Will you come up to my house to lunch?" +</P> + +<P> +"If I can find time," said Selma. "But I'd rather come and take you +for a walk. I have to walk two hours every day. It's the only thing +that'll keep my head clear." +</P> + +<P> +"When will you come?—to-morrow?" +</P> + +<P> +"Is nine o'clock too early?" +</P> + +<P> +Jane reflected that her father left for business at half-past eight. +"Nine to-morrow," she said. "Good-by again." +</P> + +<P> +As she was mounting her horse, she saw "the Cossack girl," as she was +calling her, writing away at the window hardly three feet above the +level of Jane's head when she was mounted, so low was the first story +of the battered old frame house. But Selma did not see her; she was +all intent upon the writing. "She's forgotten me already," thought +Jane with a pang of jealous vanity. She added: "But SHE has SOMETHING +to think about—she and Victor Dorn." +</P> + +<P> +She was so preoccupied that she rode away with only an absent thank you +for the small boy, in an older and much larger and wider brother's +cast-off shirt, suspenders and trousers. At the corner of the avenue +she remembered and turned her horse. There stood the boy gazing after +her with a hypnotic intensity that made her smile. She rode back +fumbling in her pockets. "I beg your pardon," said she to the boy. +Then she called up to Selma Gordon: +</P> + +<P> +"Miss Gordon—please—will you lend me a quarter until to-morrow?" +</P> + +<P> +Selma looked up, stared dazedly at her, smiled absently at Miss +Hastings—and Miss Hastings had the strongest confirmation of her +suspicion that Selma had forgotten her and her visit the instant she +vanished from the threshold of the office. Said Selma: "A +quarter?—oh, yes—certainly." She seemed to be searching a drawer or +a purse out of sight. "I haven't anything but a five dollar bill. I'm +so sorry"—this in an absent manner, with most of her thoughts +evidently still upon her work. She rose, leaned from the window, +glanced up the street, then down. She went on: +</P> + +<P> +"There comes Victor Dorn. He'll lend it to you." +</P> + +<P> +Along the ragged brick walk at a quick pace the man who had in such +abrupt fashion stormed Jane Hasting's fancy and taken possession of her +curiosity was advancing with a basket on his arm. He was indeed a man +of small stature—about the medium height for a woman—about the height +of Jane Hastings. But his figure was so well put together and his walk +so easy and free from self-consciousness that the question of stature +no sooner arose than it was dismissed. His head commanded all the +attention—its poise and the remarkable face that fronted it. The +features were bold, the skin was clear and healthy and rather fair. +His eyes—gray or green blue and set neither prominently nor +retreatedly—seemed to be seeing and understanding all that was going +on about him. He had a strong, rather relentless mouth—the mouth of +men who make and compel sacrifices for their ambitions. +</P> + +<P> +"Victor," cried Selma as soon as he was within easy range of her voice, +"please lend Miss Hastings a quarter." And she immediately sat down +and went to work again, with the incident dismissed from mind. +</P> + +<P> +The young man—for he was plainly not far beyond thirty—halted and +regarded the young woman on the horse. +</P> + +<P> +"I wish to give this young gentleman here a quarter," said Jane. "He +was very good about holding my horse." +</P> + +<P> +The words were not spoken before the young gentleman darted across the +narrow street and into a yard hidden by masses of clematis, morning +glory and sweet peas. And Jane realized that she had wholly mistaken +the meaning of that hypnotic stare. +</P> + +<P> +Victor laughed—the small figure, the vast clothes, the bare feet with +voluminous trousers about them made a ludicrous sight. "He doesn't +want it," said Victor. "Thank you just the same." +</P> + +<P> +"But I want him to have it," said Jane. +</P> + +<P> +With a significant unconscious glance at her costume Dorn said: "Those +costumes haven't reached our town yet." +</P> + +<P> +"He did some work for me. I owe it to him." +</P> + +<P> +"He's my sister's little boy," said Dorn, with his amiable, friendly +smile. "We mustn't start him in the bad way of expecting pay for +politeness." +</P> + +<P> +Jane colored as if she had been rebuked, when in fact his tone forbade +the suggestion of rebuke. There was an unpleasant sparkle in her eyes +as she regarded the young man in the baggy suit, with the basket on his +arm. "I beg your pardon," said she coldly. "I naturally didn't know +your peculiar point of view." +</P> + +<P> +"That's all right," said Dorn carelessly. "Thank you, and good day." +And with a polite raising of the hat and a manner of good humored +friendliness that showed how utterly unconscious he was of her being +offended at him, he hastened across the street and went in at the gate +where the boy had vanished. And Jane had the sense that he had +forgotten her. She glanced nervously up at the window to see whether +Selma Gordon was witnessing her humiliation—for so she regarded it. +But Selma was evidently lost in a world of her own. "She doesn't love +him," Jane decided. "For, even though she is a strange kind of person, +she's a woman—and if she had loved him she couldn't have helped +watching while he talked with another woman—especially with one of my +appearance and class." +</P> + +<P> +Jane rode slowly away. At the corner—it was a long block—she glanced +toward the scene she had just quitted. Involuntarily she drew rein. +Victor and the boy had come out into the street and were playing +catches. The game did not last long. Dorn let the boy corner him and +seize him, then gave him a great toss into the air, catching him as he +came down and giving him a hug and a kiss. The boy ran shouting +merrily into the yard; Victor disappeared in the entrance to the +offices of the New Day. +</P> + +<P> +That evening, as she pretended to listen to Hull on national politics, +and while dressing the following morning Jane reflected upon her +adventure. She decided that Dorn and the "wild girl" were a low, +ill-mannered pair with whom she had nothing in common, that her +fantastic, impulsive interest in them had been killed, that for the +future she would avoid "all that sort of cattle." She would receive +Selma Gordon politely, of course—would plead headache as an excuse for +not walking, would get rid of her as soon as possible. "No doubt," +thought Jane, with the familiar, though indignantly denied, complacence +of her class, "as soon as she gets in here she'll want to hang on. She +played it very well, but she must have been crazy with delight at my +noticing her and offering to take her up." +</P> + +<P> +The postman came as Jane was finishing breakfast. He brought a note +from Selma—a hasty pencil scrawl on a sheet of printer's copy paper: +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +"Dear Miss Hastings: For the present I'm too busy to take my walks. +So, I'll not be there to-morrow. With best regards, S.G." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Such a fury rose up in Jane that the undigested breakfast went wrong +and put her in condition to give such exhibition as chance might tempt +of that ugliness of disposition which appears from time to time in all +of us not of the meek and worm-like class, and which we usually +attribute to any cause under the sun but the vulgar right one. "The +impertinence!" muttered Jane, with a second glance at the note which +conveyed; among other humiliating things, an impression of her own +absolute lack of importance to Selma Gordon. "Serves me right for +lowering myself to such people. If I wanted to try to do anything for +the working class I'd have to keep away from them. They're so +unattractive to look at and to associate with—not like those shrewd, +respectful, interesting peasants one finds on the other side. They're +better in the East. They know their place in a way. But out here +they're insufferable." +</P> + +<P> +And she spent the morning quarrelling with her maid and the other +servants, issuing orders right and left, working herself into a +horrible mood dominated by a headache that was anything but a pretense. +As she wandered about the house and gardens, she trailed a beautiful +negligee with that carelessness which in a woman of clean and orderly +habits invariably indicates the possession of many clothes and of a +maid who can be counted on to freshen things up before they shall be +used again. Her father came home to lunch in high good humor. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll not go down town again for a few days," said he. "I reckon I'd +best keep out of the way. That scoundrelly Victor Dorn has done so +much lying and inciting these last four or five years that it ain't +safe for a man like me to go about when there's trouble with the hands." +</P> + +<P> +"Isn't it outrageous!" exclaimed Jane. "He ought to be stopped." +</P> + +<P> +Hastings chuckled and nodded. "And he will be," said he. "Wait till +this strike's over." +</P> + +<P> +"When will that be?" asked Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"Mighty soon," replied her father. "I was ready for 'em this +time—good and ready. I've sent word to the governor that I want the +militia down here tomorrow——" +</P> + +<P> +"Has there been a riot?" cried Jane anxiously. +</P> + +<P> +"Not yet," said Hastings. He was laughing to himself. "But there will +be to-night. Then the governor'll send the troops in to-morrow +afternoon." +</P> + +<P> +"But maybe the men'll be quiet, and then——" began Jane, sick inside +and trembling. +</P> + +<P> +"When I say a thing'll happen, it'll happen," interrupted her father. +"We've made up our minds it's time to give these fellows a lesson. +It's got to be done. A milder lesson'll serve now, where later on it'd +have to be hard. I tell you these things because I want you to +remember 'em. They'll come in handy—when you'll have to look after +your own property." +</P> + +<P> +She knew how her father hated the thought of his own death; this was +the nearest he had ever come to speaking of it. "Of course, there's +your brother William," he went on. "William's a good boy—and a mighty +good business man—though he does take risks I'd never 'a took—not +even when I was young and had nothing to lose. Yes—and Billy's +honest. BUT"—the big head shook impressively—"William's human, +Jenny—don't ever forget that. The love of money's an awful thing." A +lustful glitter like the shine of an inextinguishable fire made his +eyes fascinating and terrible. "It takes hold of a man and never lets +go. To see the money pile up—and up—and up." +</P> + +<P> +The girl turned away her gaze. She did not wish to see so far into her +father's soul. It seemed a hideous indecency. +</P> + +<P> +"So, Jenny—don't trust William, but look after your own property." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I don't care anything about it, popsy," she cried, fighting to +think of him and to speak to him as simply the living father she had +always insisted on seeing. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes—you do care," said Hastings sharply. "You've got to have your +money, because that's your foundation—what you're built on. And I'm +going to train you. This here strike's a good time to begin." +</P> + +<P> +After a long silence she said: "Yes, money's what I'm built on. I +might as well recognize the truth and act accordingly. I want you to +teach me, father." +</P> + +<P> +"I've got to educate you so as, when you get control, you won't go and +do fool sentimental things like some women—and some men that warn't +trained practically—men like that Davy Hull you think so well of. +Things that'd do no good and 'd make you smaller and weaker." +</P> + +<P> +"I understand," said the girl. "About this strike—WHY won't you give +the men shorter hours and better pay?" +</P> + +<P> +"Because the company can't afford it. As things are now, there's only +enough left for a three per cent dividend after the interest on the +bonds is paid." +</P> + +<P> +She had read in the New Day that by a series of tricks the "traction +ring" had quadrupled the bonded indebtedness of the roads and +multiplied the stock by six, and had pocketed the proceeds of the +steal; that three per cent on the enormously inflated capital was in +fact eighteen per cent on the actual stock value; that seven per cent +on the bonds was in fact twenty-eight per cent on the actual bonded +indebtedness; that this traction steal was a fair illustration of how +in a score of ways in Remsen City, in a thousand and one ways in all +parts of the country, the upper class was draining away the substance +of the masses, was swindling them out of their just wages, was forcing +them to pay many times the just prices for every article of civilized +use. She had read these things—she had thought about them—she had +realized that they were true. +</P> + +<P> +She did not put to her father the question that was on her lips—the +next logical question after his answer that the company could not +afford to cut the hours lower than fourteen or to raise wages to what +was necessary for a man to have if he and his family were to live, not +in decency and comfort, but in something less than squalor. She did +not put the question because she wished to spare her father—to spare +herself the shame of hearing his tricky answer—to spare herself the +discomfort of squarely facing a nasty truth. +</P> + +<P> +Instead she said: "I understand. And you have got to look out for the +rights of the people who have invested their money." +</P> + +<P> +"If I didn't I'd be cheating them," said Hastings. "And if the men +don't like their jobs, why, they can quit and get jobs they do like." +He added, in absolute unconsciousness of his inconsistency, in absolute +belief in his own honesty and goodness, "The truth is our company pays +as high wages as can be got anywhere. As for them hours—when <I>I</I> was +working my way up, <I>I</I> used to put in sixteen and eighteen hours a day, +and was mighty glad to do it. This lazy talk of cutting down hours +makes me sick. And these fellows that're always kicking on their jobs, +I'd like to know what'd become of them and their families if I and men +like me didn't provide work for 'em." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, indeed!" cried Jane, eagerly seizing upon this attractive view of +the situation—and resolutely accepting it without question. +</P> + +<P> +In came one of the maids, saying: "There's a man wants to see you, Mr. +Hastings." +</P> + +<P> +"What's his name? What does he want?" inquired Hastings, while Jane +made a mental note that she must try to inject at least a little order +and form into the manners of announcing visitors. +</P> + +<P> +"He didn't give a name. He just said, 'Tell the old man I want to see +him.' I ain't sure, but I think it's Dick Kelly." +</P> + +<P> +As Lizzie was an ardent Democrat, she spoke the name +contemptuously—for Dick Kelly was the Republican boss. If it had been +House, the Democratic boss and Kelly's secret dependent and henchman, +she would have said "Mr. Joseph House" in a tone of deep respect. +</P> + +<P> +"Kelly," said Hastings. "Must be something important or he'd 'a +telephoned or asked me to see him at my office or at the Lincoln Club. +He never came out here before. Bring him in, Lizzie." +</P> + +<P> +A moment and there appeared in the doorway a man of perhaps forty years +who looked like a prosperous contractor who had risen from the ranks. +His figure was notable for its solidity and for the power of the +shoulders; but already there were indications that the solidity, come +of hard manual labor in early life, was soon to soften into fat under +the melting influence of prosperity and the dissipation it put within +too easy reach. The striking features of his face were a pair of keen, +hard, greenish eyes and a jaw that protruded uglily—the jaw of +aggressiveness, not the too prominent jaw of weakness. At sight of +Jane he halted awkwardly. +</P> + +<P> +"How're you, Mr. Hastings?" said he. +</P> + +<P> +"Hello, Dick," said the old man. "This is my daughter Jane." +</P> + +<P> +Jane smiled a pleasant recognition of the introduction. Kelly said +stiffly, "How're you, ma'am?" +</P> + +<P> +"Want to see me alone, I suppose?" Hastings went on. "You go out on +the porch, Jenny." +</P> + +<P> +As soon as Jane disappeared Kelly's stiffness and clumsiness vanished. +To head off Hastings' coming offer of a cigar, he drew one from his +pocket and lighted it. "There's hell to pay, Mr. Hastings," he began, +seating himself near the old man, tilting back in his chair and +crossing his legs. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I reckon you can take care of it," said Hastings calmly. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yes, we kin take care of it, all right. Only, I don't want to do +nothing without consulting you." +</P> + +<P> +In these two statements Mr. Kelly summed up the whole of politics in +Remsen City, in any city anywhere, in the country at large. +</P> + +<P> +Kelly had started life as a blacksmith. But he soon tired of the +dullness and toil and started forth to find some path up to where men +live by making others work for them instead of plodding along at the +hand-to-mouth existence that is the lot of those who live by their own +labors alone. He was a safe blower for a while, but wisely soon +abandoned that fascinating but precarious and unremunerative career. +From card sharp following the circus and sheet-writer to a bookmaker he +graduated into bartender, into proprietor of a doggery. As every +saloon is a political club, every saloon-keeper is of necessity a +politician. Kelly's woodbox happened to be a convenient place for +directing the floaters and the repeaters. Kelly's political importance +grew apace. His respectability grew more slowly. But it had grown and +was growing. +</P> + +<P> +If you had asked Lizzie, the maid, why she was a Democrat, she would +have given no such foolish reason as the average man gives. +</P> + +<P> +She would not have twaddled about principles—when everyone with +eyeteeth cut ought to know that principles have departed from politics, +now that both parties have been harmonized and organized into agencies +of the plutocracy. She would not have said she was a Democrat because +her father was, or because all her friends and associates were. She +would have replied—in pleasantly Americanized Irish: +</P> + +<P> +"I'm a Democrat because when my father got too old to work, Mr. House, +the Democrat leader, gave him a job on the elevator at the Court +House—though that dirty thief and scoundrel, Kelly, the Republican +boss, owned all the judges and county officers. And when my brother +lost his place as porter because he took a drink too many, Mr. House +gave him a card to the foreman of the gas company, and he went to work +at eight a week and is there yet." +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Kelly and Mr. House belong to a maligned and much misunderstood +class. Whenever you find anywhere in nature an activity of any kind, +however pestiferous its activity may seem to you—or however good—you +may be sure that if you look deep enough you will find that that +activity has a use, arises from a need. The "robber trusts" and the +political bosses are interesting examples of this basic truth. They +have arisen because science, revolutionizing human society, has +compelled it to organize. The organization is crude and clumsy and +stupid, as yet, because men are ignorant, are experimenting, are +working in the dark. So, the organizing forces are necessarily crude +and clumsy and stupid. +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Hastings was—all unconsciously—organizing society industrially. +Mr. Kelly—equally unconscious of the true nature of his +activities—was organizing society politically. And as industry and +politics are—and ever have been—at bottom two names for identically +the same thing, Mr. Hastings and Mr. Kelly were bound sooner or later +to get together. +</P> + +<P> +Remsen City was organized like every other large or largish community. +There were two clubs—the Lincoln and the Jefferson—which well enough +represented the "respectable elements"—that is, those citizens who +were of the upper class. There were two other clubs—the Blaine and the +Tilden—which were similarly representative of the "rank and file" and, +rather, of the petty officers who managed the rank and file and voted +it and told it what to think and what not to think, in exchange taking +care of the needy sick, of the aged, of those out of work and so on. +Martin Hastings—the leading Republican citizen of Remsen City, though +for obvious reasons his political activities were wholly secret and +stealthy—was the leading spirit in the Lincoln Club. Jared +Olds—Remsen City's richest and most influential Democrat, the head of +the gas company and the water company—was foremost in the Jefferson +Club. At the Lincoln and the Jefferson you rarely saw any but +"gentlemen"—men of established position and fortune, deacons and +vestrymen, judges, corporation lawyers and the like. The Blaine and +the Tilden housed a livelier and a far less select class—the +"boys"—the active politicians, the big saloon keepers, the criminal +lawyers, the gamblers, the chaps who knew how to round up floaters and +to handle gangs of repeaters, the active young sports working for +political position, by pitching and carrying for the political leaders, +by doing their errands of charity or crookedness or what not. Joe +House was the "big shout" at the Tilden; Dick Kelly could be found +every evening on the third—or "wine," or plotting—floor of the +Blaine—found holding court. And very respectful indeed were even the +most eminent of Lincoln, or Jefferson, respectabilities who sought him +out there to ask favors of him. +</P> + +<P> +The bosses tend more and more to become mere flunkeys of the +plutocrats. Kelly belonged to the old school of boss, dating from the +days when social organization was in the early stages, when the +political organizer was feared and even served by the industrial +organizer, the embryo plutocrats. He realized how necessary he was to +his plutocratic master, and he made that master treat him almost as an +equal. He was exacting ever larger pay for taking care of the voters +and keeping them fooled; he was getting rich, and had as yet vague +aspirations to respectability and fashion. He had stopped drinking, +had "cut out the women," had made a beginning toward a less inelegant +way of speaking the language. His view of life was what is called +cynical. That is, he regarded himself as morally the equal of the +respectable rulers of society—or of the preachers who attended to the +religious part of the grand industry of "keeping the cow quiet while it +was being milked." +</P> + +<P> +But Mr. Kelly was explaining to Martin Hastings what he meant when he +said that there was "hell to pay": +</P> + +<P> +"That infernal little cuss, Victor Dorn," said he "made a speech in the +Court House Square to-day. Of course, none of the decent papers—and +they're all decent except his'n—will publish any of it. Still, there +was about a thousand people there before he got through—and the +thing'll spread." +</P> + +<P> +"Speech?—what about?" said Hastings. "He's always shooting off his +mouth. He'd better stop talking and go to work at some honest +business." +</P> + +<P> +"He's got on to the fact that this strike is a put-up job—that the +company hired labor detectives in Chicago last winter to come down here +and get hold of the union. He gave names—amounts paid—the whole damn +thing." +</P> + +<P> +"Um," said Hastings, rubbing his skinny hands along the shiny +pantaloons over his meagre legs. "Um." +</P> + +<P> +"But that ain't all," pursued Kelly. "He read out a list of the men +told off to pretend to set fire to the car barns and start the +riot—those Chicago chaps, you know." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know anything about it," said Hastings sharply. +</P> + +<P> +Kelly smiled slightly—amused scorn. It seemed absurd to him for the +old man to keep up the pretense of ignorance. In fact, Hastings was +ignorant—of the details. He was not quite the aloof plutocrat of the +modern school, who permits himself to know nothing of details beyond +the dividend rate and similar innocent looking results of causes at +which sometimes hell itself would shudder. But, while he was more +active than the conscience-easing devices now working smoothly made +necessary, he never permitted himself to know any unnecessary criminal +or wicked fact about his enterprises. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know," he repeated. "And I don't want to know." +</P> + +<P> +"Anyhow, Dorn gave away the whole thing. He even read a copy of your +letter of introduction to the governor—the one you—according to +Dorn—gave Fillmore when you sent him up to the Capitol to arrange for +the invitation to come after the riot." +</P> + +<P> +Hastings knew that the boss was deliberately "rubbing it in" because +Hastings—that is, Hastings' agents had not invited Kelly to assist in +the project for "teaching the labor element a much needed lesson." But +knowledge of Kelly's motive did not make the truth he was telling any +less true—the absurd mismanagement of the whole affair, with the +result that Dorn seemed in the way to change it from a lesson to labor +on the folly of revolt against their kind and generous but firm +employers into a provoker of fresh and fiercer revolt—effective +revolt—political revolt. So, as Kelly "rubbed," Hastings visibly +winced and writhed. +</P> + +<P> +Kelly ended his recital with: "The speech created a hell of a +sensation, Mr. Hastings. That young chap can talk." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," snapped Hastings. "But he can't do anything else." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not so sure of that," replied Kelly, who was wise enough to +realize the value of a bogey like Dorn—its usefulness for purposes of +"throwing a scare into the silk-stocking crowd." "Dorn's getting mighty +strong with the people." +</P> + +<P> +"Stuff and nonsense!" retorted Hastings. "They'll listen to any slick +tongued rascal that roasts those that are more prosperous than they +are. But when it comes to doing anything, they know better. They envy +and hate those that give them jobs, but they need the jobs." +</P> + +<P> +"There's a good deal of truth in that, Mr. Hastings," said Kelly, who +was nothing if not judicial. "But Dorn's mighty plausible. I hear +sensible men saying there's something more'n hot air in his facts and +figgures." Kelly paused, and made the pause significant. +</P> + +<P> +"About that last block of traction stock, Mr. Hastings. I thought you +were going to let me in on the ground floor. But I ain't heard +nothing." +</P> + +<P> +"You ARE in," said Hastings, who knew when to yield. "Hasn't Barker +been to see you? I'll attend to it, myself." +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you, Mr. Hastings," said Kelly—dry and brief as always when +receipting with a polite phrase for pay for services rendered. "I've +been a good friend to your people." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, you have, Dick," said the old man heartily. "And I want you to +jump in and take charge." +</P> + +<P> +Hastings more than suspected that Kelly, to bring him to terms and to +force him to employ directly the high-priced Kelly or +Republico-Democratic machine as well as the State Republico-Democratic +machine, which was cheaper, had got together the inside information and +had ordered one of his henchmen to convey it to Dorn. But of what use +to quarrel with Kelly? Of course, he could depose him; but that would +simply mean putting another boss in his place—perhaps one more +expensive and less efficient. The time had been when he—and the +plutocracy generally—were compelled to come to the political bosses +almost hat in hand. That time was past, never to return. But still a +competent political agent was even harder to find than a competent +business manager—and was far more necessary; for, while a big business +might stagger along under poor financial or organizing management +within, it could not live at all without political favors, immunities, +and licenses. A band of pickpockets might as well try to work a town +without having first "squared" the police. Not that Mr. Hastings and +his friends THEMSELVES compared themselves to a band of pickpockets. +No, indeed. It was simply legitimate business to blackjack your +competitors, corner a supply, create a monopoly and fix prices and +wages to suit your own notions of what was your due for taking the +"hazardous risks of business enterprise." +</P> + +<P> +"Leave everything to me," said Kelly briskly. "I can put the thing +through. Just tell your lawyer to apply late this afternoon to Judge +Lansing for an injunction forbidding the strikers to assemble anywhere +within the county. We don't want no more of this speechifying. This +is a peaceable community, and it won't stand for no agitators." +</P> + +<P> +"Hadn't the lawyers better go to Judge Freilig?" said Hastings. +</P> + +<P> +"He's shown himself to be a man of sound ideas." +</P> + +<P> +"No—Lansing," said Kelly. "He don't come up for re-election for five +years. Freilig comes up next fall, and we'll have hard work to pull +him through, though House is going to put him on the ticket, too. +Dorn's going to make a hot campaign—concentrate on judges." +</P> + +<P> +"There's nothing in that Dorn talk," said Hastings. "You can't scare +me again, Dick, as you did with that Populist mare's nest ten years +ago." +</P> + +<P> +That had been Kelly's first "big killing" by working on the fears of +the plutocracy. Its success had put him in a position to buy a +carriage and a diamond necklace for Mrs. Kelly and to make first +payments on a large block of real estate. "It was no mare's nest, Mr. +Hastings," gravely declared the boss. "If I hadn't 'a knowed just how +to use the money we collected, there'd 'a been a crowd in office for +four years that wouldn't 'a been easy to manage, I can tell you. But +they was nothing to this here Dorn crowd. Dorn is——" +</P> + +<P> +"We must get rid of him, Dick," interrupted Hastings. +</P> + +<P> +The two men looked at each other—a curious glance—telegraphy. No +method was suggested, no price was offered or accepted. But in the +circumstances those matters became details that would settle +themselves; the bargain was struck. +</P> + +<P> +"He certainly ought to be stopped," said Kelly carelessly. "He's the +worst enemy the labor element has had in my time." He rose. "Well, Mr. +Hastings, I must be going." He extended his heavy, strong hand, which +Hastings rose to grasp. "I'm glad we're working together again without +any hitches. You won't forget about that there stock?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'll telephone about it right away, Dick—and about Judge Lansing. +You're sure Lansing's all right? I didn't like those decisions of his +last year—the railway cases, I mean." +</P> + +<P> +"That was all right, Mr. Hastings," said Kelly with a wave of the hand. +"I had to have 'em in the interests of the party. I knowed the upper +court'd reverse. No, Lansing's a good party man—a good, sound man in +every way." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm glad to hear it," said Hastings. +</P> + +<P> +Before going into his private room to think and plan and telephone, he +looked out on the west veranda. There sat his daughter; and a few feet +away was David Hull, his long form stretched in a hammock while he +discoursed of his projects for a career as a political reformer. The +sight immensely pleased the old man. When he was a boy David Hull's +grandfather, Brainerd Hull, had been the great man of that region; and +Martin Hastings, a farm hand and the son of a farm hand, had looked up +at him as the embodiment of all that was grand and aristocratic. As +Hastings had never travelled, his notions of rank and position all +centred about Remsen City. Had he realized the extent of the world, he +would have regarded his ambition for a match between the daughter and +granddaughter of a farm hand and the son and grandson of a Remsen City +aristocrat as small and ridiculous. But he did not realize. +</P> + +<P> +Davy saw him and sprang to his feet. +</P> + +<P> +"No—no—don't disturb yourselves," cried the old man. "I've got some +things to 'tend to. You and Jenny go right ahead." +</P> + +<P> +And he was off to his own little room where he conducted his own +business in his own primitive but highly efficacious way. A corps of +expert accountants could not have disentangled those crabbed, +criss-crossed figures; no solver of puzzles could have unravelled the +mystery of those strange hieroglyphics. But to the old man there +wasn't a difficult—or a dull—mark in that entire set of dirty, +dog-eared little account books. He spent hours in poring over them. +Just to turn the pages gave him keen pleasure; to read, and to +reconstruct from those hints the whole story of some agitating and +profitable operation, made in comparison the delight of an imaginative +boy in Monte Cristo or Crusoe seem a cold and tame emotion. +</P> + +<P> +David talked on and on, fancying that Jane was listening and admiring, +when in fact she was busy with her own entirely different train of +thought. She kept the young man going because she did not wish to be +bored with her own solitude, because a man about always made life at +least a little more interesting than if she were alone or with a woman, +and because Davy was good to look at and had an agreeable voice. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, who's that?" she suddenly exclaimed, gazing off to the right. +</P> + +<P> +Davy turned and looked. "I don't know her," he said. "Isn't she queer +looking—yet I don't know just why." +</P> + +<P> +"It's Selma Gordon," said Jane, who had recognized Selma the instant +her eyes caught a figure moving across the lawn. +</P> + +<P> +"The girl that helps Victor Dorn?" said Davy, astonished. "What's SHE +coming HERE for? You don't know her—do you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you?" evaded Jane. "I thought you and Mr. Dorn were such pals." +</P> + +<P> +"Pals?" laughed Hull. "Hardly that. We meet now and then at a +workingman's club I'm interested in—and at a cafe' where I go to get +in touch with the people occasionally—and in the street. But I never +go to his office. I couldn't afford to do that. And I've never seen +Miss Gordon." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, she's worth seeing," said Jane. "You'll never see another like +her." +</P> + +<P> +They rose and watched her advancing. To the usual person, acutely +conscious of self, walking is not easy in such circumstances. But +Selma, who never bothered about herself, came on with that matchless +steady grace which peasant girls often get through carrying burdens on +the head. Jane called out: +</P> + +<P> +"So, you've come, after all." +</P> + +<P> +Selma smiled gravely. Not until she was within a few feet of the steps +did she answer: "Yes—but on business." She was wearing the same +linen dress. On her head was a sailor hat, beneath the brim of which +her amazingly thick hair stood out in a kind of defiance. This hat, +this further article of Western civilization's dress, added to the +suggestion of the absurdity of such a person in such clothing. But in +her strange Cossack way she certainly was beautiful—and as healthy and +hardy as if she had never before been away from the high, wind-swept +plateaus where disease is unknown and where nothing is thought of +living to be a hundred or a hundred and twenty-five. Both before and +after the introduction Davy Hull gazed at her with fascinated curiosity +too plainly written upon his long, sallow, serious face. She, intent +upon her mission, ignored him as the arrow ignores the other birds of +the flock in its flight to the one at which it is aimed. +</P> + +<P> +"You'll give me a minute or two alone?" she said to Jane. "We can walk +on the lawn here." +</P> + +<P> +Hull caught up his hat. "I was just going," said he. Then he +hesitated, looked at Selma, stammered: "I'll go to the edge of the +lawn and inspect the view." +</P> + +<P> +Neither girl noted this abrupt and absurd change of plan. He departed. +As soon as he had gone half a dozen steps, Selma said in her quick, +direct fashion: +</P> + +<P> +"I've come to see you about the strike." +</P> + +<P> +Jane tried to look cool and reserved. But that sort of expression +seemed foolish in face of the simplicity and candor of Selma Gordon. +Also, Jane was not now so well pleased with her father's ideas and +those of her own interest as she had been while she was talking with +him. The most exasperating thing about the truth is that, once one has +begun to see it—has begun to see what is for him the truth—the honest +truth—he can not hide from it ever again. So, instead of looking cold +and repellant, Jane looked uneasy and guilty. "Oh, yes—the strike," +she murmured. +</P> + +<P> +"It is over," said Selma. "The union met a half hour ago and revoked +its action—on Victor Dorn's advice. He showed the men that they had +been trapped into striking by the company—that a riot was to be +started and blamed upon them—that the militia was to be called in and +they were to be shot down." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, no—not that!" cried Jane eagerly. "It wouldn't have gone as far +as that." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes—as far as that," said Selma calmly. "That sort of thing is an +old story. It's been done so often—and worse. You see, the +respectable gentlemen who run things hire disreputable creatures. They +don't tell them what to do. They don't need to. The poor wretches +understand what's expected of them—and they do it. So, the +respectable gentlemen can hold up white hands and say quite truthfully, +'No blood-no filth on these—see!"' Selma was laughing drearily. Her +superb, primitive eyes, set ever so little aslant, were flashing with +an intensity of emotion that gave Jane Hastings a sensation of +terror-much as if a man who has always lived where there were no +storms, but such gentle little rains with restrained and refined +thunder as usually visit the British Isles, were to find himself in the +midst of one of those awful convulsions that come crashing down the +gorges of the Rockies. She marveled that one so small of body could +contain such big emotions. +</P> + +<P> +"You mustn't be unjust," she pleaded. "WE aren't THAT wicked, my dear." +</P> + +<P> +Selma looked at her. "No matter," she said. "I am not trying to +convert you—or to denounce your friends to you. I'll explain what +I've come for. In his speech to-day and in inducing the union to +change, Victor has shown how much power he has. The men whose plans he +has upset will be hating him as men hate only those whom they fear." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes—I believe that," said Jane. "So, you see, I'm not blindly +prejudiced." +</P> + +<P> +"For a long time there have been rumors that they might kill him——" +</P> + +<P> +"Absurd!" cried Jane angrily. "Miss Gordon, no matter how prejudiced +you may be—and I'll admit there are many things to justify you in +feeling strongly—but no matter how you may feel, your good sense must +tell you that men like my father don't commit murder." +</P> + +<P> +"I understand perfectly," replied Selma. "They don't commit murder, +and they don't order murder. I'll even say that I don't think they +would tolerate murder, even for their benefit. But you don't know how +things are done in business nowadays. The men like your father have to +use men of the Kelly and the House sort—you know who they are?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"The Kellys and the Houses give general orders to their lieutenants. +The lieutenants pass the orders along—and down. And so on, until all +sorts of men are engaged in doing all sorts of work. Dirty, clean, +criminal—all sorts. Some of these men, baffled in what they are +trying to do to earn their pay—baffled by Victor Dorn—plot against +him." Again that sad, bitter laugh. "My dear Miss Hastings, to kill a +cat there are a thousand ways besides skinning it alive." +</P> + +<P> +"You are prejudiced," said Jane, in the manner of one who could not be +convinced. +</P> + +<P> +Selma made an impatient gesture. "Again I say, no matter. Victor +laughs at our fears——" +</P> + +<P> +"I knew it," said Jane triumphantly. "He is less foolish than his +followers." +</P> + +<P> +"He simply does not think about himself," replied Selma. "And he is +right. But it is our business to think about him, because we need him. +Where could we find another like him?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I suppose your movement WOULD die out, if he were not behind it." +</P> + +<P> +Selma smiled peculiarly. "I think you don't quite understand what we +are about," said she. "You've accepted the ignorant notion of your +class that we are a lot of silly roosters trying to crow one sun out of +the heavens and another into it. The facts are somewhat different. +Your class is saying, 'To-day will last forever,' while we are saying, +'No, to-day will run its course—will be succeeded by to-morrow. Let +us not live like the fool who thinks only of the day. Let us be +sensible, intelligent, let us realize that there will be to-morrow and +that it, too, must be lived. Let us get ready to live it sensibly. Let +us build our social system so that it will stand the wear and tear of +another day and will not fall in ruins about our heads.'" +</P> + +<P> +"I am terribly ignorant about all these things," said Jane. "What a +ridiculous thing my education has been!" +</P> + +<P> +"But it hasn't spoiled your heart," cried Selma. And all at once her +eyes were wonderfully soft and tender, and into her voice came a tone +so sweet that Jane's eyes filled with tears. "It was to your heart that +I came to appeal," she went on. "Oh, Miss Hastings—we will do all we +can to protect Victor Dorn—and we guard him day and night without his +knowing it. But I am afraid—afraid! And I want you to help. Will +you?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'll do anything I can," said Jane—a Jane very different from the +various Janes Miss Hastings knew—a Jane who seemed to be conjuring of +Selma Gordon's enchantments. +</P> + +<P> +"I want you to ask your father to give him a fair show. We don't ask +any favors—for ourselves—for him. But we don't want to see him—" +Selma shuddered and covered her eyes with her hands "—lying dead in +some alley, shot or stabbed by some unknown thug!" +</P> + +<P> +Selma made it so vivid that Jane saw the whole tragedy before her very +eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"The real reason why they hate him," Selma went on, "is because he +preaches up education and preaches down violence—and is building his +party on intelligence instead of on force. The masters want the +workingman who burns and kills and riots. They can shoot him down. +They can make people accept any tyranny in preference to the danger of +fire and murder let loose. But Victor is teaching the workingmen to +stop playing the masters' game for them. No wonder they hate him! He +makes them afraid of the day when the united workingmen will have their +way by organizing and voting. And they know that if Victor Dorn lives, +that day will come in this city very, very soon." Selma saw Davy Hull, +impatient at his long wait, advancing toward them. She said: "You will +talk to your father?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said Jane. "And I assure you he will do what he can. You don't +know him, Miss Gordon." +</P> + +<P> +"I know he loves you—I know he MUST love you," said Selma. "Now, I +must go. Good-by. I knew you would be glad of the chance to do +something worth while." +</P> + +<P> +Jane had been rather expecting to be thanked for her generosity and +goodness. Selma's remark seemed at first blush an irritating attempt +to shift a favor asked into a favor given. But it was impossible for +her to fail to see Selma's sensible statement of the actual truth. So, +she said honestly: +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you for coming, Miss Gordon. I am glad of the chance." +</P> + +<P> +They shook hands. Selma, holding her hand, looked up at her, suddenly +kissed her. Jane returned the kiss. David Hull, advancing with his +gaze upon them, stopped short. Selma, without a glance—because +without a thought—in his direction, hastened away. +</P> + +<P> +When David rejoined Jane, she was gazing tenderly after the small, +graceful figure moving toward the distant entrance gates. Said David: +</P> + +<P> +"I think that girl has got you hypnotized." +</P> + +<P> +Jane laughed and sent him home. "I'm busy," she said. "I've got +something to do, at last." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap03"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +III +</H3> + +<P> +Jane knocked at the door of her father's little office. "Are you +there, father?" said she. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes—come in, Jinny." As she entered, he went on, "But you must go +right away again. I've got to 'tend to this strike." He took on an +injured, melancholy tone. "Those fool workingmen! They're certain to +lose. And what'll come of it all? Why, they'll be out their wages and +their jobs, and the company lose so much money that it can't put on the +new cars the public's clamorin' for. The old cars'll have to do for +another year, anyhow—maybe two." +</P> + +<P> +Jane had heard that lugubrious tone from time to time, and she knew +what it meant—an air of sorrow concealing secret joy. So, here was +another benefit the company—she preferred to think of it as the +company rather than as her father—expected to gain from the strike. +It could put off replacing the miserable old cars in which it was +compelling people to ride. Instead of losing money by the strike, it +would make money by it. This was Jane's first glimpse of one of the +most interesting and important truths of modern life—how it is often +to the advantage of business men to have their own business crippled, +hampered, stopped altogether. +</P> + +<P> +"You needn't worry, father," said she cheerfully. "The strike's been +declared off." +</P> + +<P> +"What's that?" cried her father. +</P> + +<P> +"A girl from down town just called. She says the union has called the +strike off and the men have accepted the company's terms." +</P> + +<P> +"But them terms is withdrawn!" cried Hastings, as if his daughter were +the union. He seized the telephone. "I'll call up the office and +order 'em withdrawn." +</P> + +<P> +"It's too late," said she. +</P> + +<P> +Just then the telephone bell rang, and Hastings was soon hearing +confirmation of the news his daughter had brought him. She could not +bear watching his face as he listened. She turned her back, stood +gazing out at the window. Her father, beside himself, was shrieking +into the telephone curses, denunciations, impossible orders. The one +emergency against which he had not provided was the union's ending the +strike. When you have struck the line of battle of a general, however +able and self-controlled, in the one spot where he has not arranged a +defense, you have thrown him—and his army—into a panic. Some of the +greatest tactitians in history have given way in those circumstances; +so, Martin Hastings' utter loss of self-control and of control of the +situation only proves that he had his share of human nature. He had +provided against the unexpected; he had not provided against the +impossible. +</P> + +<P> +Jane let her father rave on into the telephone until his voice grew +hoarse and squeaky. Then she turned and said: "Now, father—what's +the use of making yourself sick? You can't do any good—can you?" She +laid one hand on his arm, with the other hand caressed his head. "Hang +up the receiver and think of your health." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't care to live, with such goings-on," declared he. But he hung +up the receiver and sank back in his chair, exhausted. +</P> + +<P> +"Come out on the porch," she went on, tugging gently at him. "The air's +stuffy in here." +</P> + +<P> +He rose obediently. She led him to the veranda and seated him +comfortably, with a cushion in his back at the exact spot at which it +was most comfortable. She patted his shrunken cheeks, stood off and +looked at him. +</P> + +<P> +"Where's your sense of humor?" she cried. "You used to be able to +laugh when things went against you. You're getting to be as solemn and +to take yourself as seriously as Davy Hull." +</P> + +<P> +The old man made a not unsuccessful attempt to smile. "That there +Victor Dorn!" said he. "He'll be the death of me, yet." +</P> + +<P> +"What has he done now?" said Jane, innocently. +</P> + +<P> +Hastings rubbed his big bald forehead with his scrawny hand. "He's +tryin' to run this town—to run it to the devil," replied he, by way of +evasion. +</P> + +<P> +"Something's got to be done about him—eh?" observed she, in a fine +imitation of a business-like voice. +</P> + +<P> +"Something WILL be done," retorted he. +</P> + +<P> +Jane winced—hid her distress—returned to the course she had mapped +out for herself. "I hope it won't be something stupid," said she. +Then she seated herself and went on. "Father—did you ever stop to +wonder whether it is Victor Dorn or the changed times?" +</P> + +<P> +The old man looked up abruptly and sharply—the expression of a shrewd +man when he catches a hint of a new idea that sounds as if it might +have something in it. +</P> + +<P> +"You blame Victor Dorn," she went on to explain. "But if there were no +Victor Dorn, wouldn't you be having just the same trouble? Aren't men +of affairs having them everywhere—in Europe as well as on this +side—nowadays?" +</P> + +<P> +The old man rubbed his brow—his nose—his chin—pulled at the tufts of +hair in his ears—fumbled with his cuffs. All of these gestures +indicated interest and attention. +</P> + +<P> +"Isn't the real truth not Victor Dorn or Victor Dorns but a changed and +changing world?" pursued the girl. "And if that's so, haven't you +either got to adopt new methods or fall back? That's the way it looks +to me—and we women have got intuitions if we haven't got sense." +</P> + +<P> +"<I>I</I> never said women hadn't got sense," replied the old man. "I've +sometimes said MEN ain't got no sense, but not women. Not to go no +further, the women make the men work for 'em—don't they? THAT'S a +pretty good quality of sense, <I>I</I> guess." +</P> + +<P> +But she knew he was busily thinking all the time about what she had +said. So she did not hesitate to go on: "Instead of helping Victor +Dorn by giving him things to talk about, it seems to me I'd USE him, +father." +</P> + +<P> +"Can't do anything with him. He's crazy," declared Hastings. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't believe it," replied Jane. "I don't believe he's crazy. And +I don't believe you can't manage him. A man like that—a man as clever +as he is—doesn't belong with a lot of ignorant tenement-house people. +He's out of place. And when anything or anybody is out of place, they +can be put in their right place. Isn't that sense?" +</P> + +<P> +The old man shook his head—not in negation, but in uncertainty. +</P> + +<P> +"These men are always edging you on against Victor Dorn—what's the +matter with them?" pursued Jane. "<I>I</I> saw, when Davy Hull talked about +him. They're envious and jealous of him, father. They're afraid he'll +distance them. And they don't want you to realize what a useful man he +could be—how he could help you if you helped him—made friends with +him—roused the right kind of ambition in him." +</P> + +<P> +"When a man's ambitious," observed Hastings, out of the fullness of his +own personal experience, "it means he's got something inside him, +teasing and nagging at him—something that won't let him rest, but +keeps pushing and pulling—and he's got to keep fighting, trying to +satisfy it—and he can't wait to pick his ground or his weapons." +</P> + +<P> +"And Victor Dorn," said Jane, to make it clearer to her father by +putting his implied thought into words, "Victor Dorn is doing the best +he can—fighting on the only ground that offers and with the only +weapons he can lay hands on." +</P> + +<P> +The old man nodded. "I never have blamed him—not really," declared +he. "A practical man—a man that's been through things—he understands +how these things are," in the tone of a philosopher. "Yes, I reckon +Victor's doing the best he can—getting up by the only ladder he's got +a chance at." +</P> + +<P> +"The way to get him off that ladder is to give him another," said Jane. +</P> + +<P> +A long silence, the girl letting her father thresh the matter out in +his slow, thorough way. Finally her young impatience conquered her +restraint. "Well—what do you think, popsy?" inquired she. +</P> + +<P> +"That I've got about as smart a gel as there is in Remsen City," +replied he. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't lay it on too thick," laughed she. +</P> + +<P> +He understood why she was laughing, though he did not show it. He knew +what his much-traveled daughter thought of Remsen City, but he held to +his own provincial opinion, nevertheless. Nor, perhaps, was he so far +wrong as she believed. A cross section of human society, taken almost +anywhere, will reveal about the same quantity of brain, and the quality +of the mill is the thing, not of the material it may happen to be +grinding. +</P> + +<P> +She understood that his remark was his way of letting her know that he +had taken her suggestion under advisement. This meant that she had +said enough. And Jane Hastings had made herself an adept in the art of +handling her father—an accomplishment she could by no means have +achieved had she not loved him; it is only when a woman deeply and +strongly loves a man that she can learn to influence him, for only love +can put the necessary sensitiveness into the nerves with which moods +and prejudices and whims and such subtle uncertainties can be felt out. +</P> + +<P> +The next day but one, coming out on the front veranda a few minutes +before lunch time she was startled rather than surprised to see Victor +Dorn seated on a wicker sofa, hat off and gaze wandering delightedly +over the extensive view of the beautiful farming country round Remsen +City. She paused in the doorway to take advantage of the chance to +look at him when he was off his guard. Certainly that profile view of +the young man was impressive. It is only in the profile that we get a +chance to measure the will or propelling force behind a character. In +each of the two main curves of Dorn's head—that from the top of the +brow downward over the nose, the lips, the chin and under, and that +from the back of the head round under the ear and forward along the +lower jaw—in each of these curves Dorn excelled. +</P> + +<P> +She was about to draw back and make a formal entry, when he said, +without looking toward her: +</P> + +<P> +"Well—don't you think it would be safe to draw near?" +</P> + +<P> +The tone was so easy and natural and so sympathetic—the tone of Selma +Gordon—the tone of all natural persons not disturbed about themselves +or about others—that Jane felt no embarrassment whatever. "I've heard +you were very clever," said she, advancing. "So, I wanted to have the +advantage of knowing you a little better at the outset than you would +know me." +</P> + +<P> +"But Selma Gordon has told me all about you," said he—he had risen as +she advanced and was shaking hands with her as if they were old +friends. "Besides, I saw you the other day—in spite of your effort to +prevent yourself from being seen." +</P> + +<P> +"What do you mean?" she asked, completely mystified. +</P> + +<P> +"I mean your clothes," explained he. "They were unusual for this part +of the world. And when anyone wears unusual clothes, they act as a +disguise. Everyone neglects the person to center on the clothes." +</P> + +<P> +"I wore them to be comfortable," protested Jane, wondering why she was +not angry at this young man whose manner ought to be regarded as +presuming and whose speech ought to be rebuked as impertinent. +</P> + +<P> +"Altogether?" said Dorn, his intensely blue eyes dancing. +</P> + +<P> +In spite of herself she smiled. "No—not altogether," she admitted. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, it may please you to learn that you scored tremendously as far +as one person is concerned. My small nephew talks of you all the +time—the 'lady in the lovely pants.'" +</P> + +<P> +Jane colored deeply and angrily. She bent upon Victor a glance that +ought to have put him in his place—well down in his place. +</P> + +<P> +But he continued to look at her with unchanged, laughing, friendly blue +eyes, and went on: "By the way, his mother asked me to apologize for +HIS extraordinary appearance. I suppose neither of you would recognize +the other in any dress but the one each had on that day. He doesn't +always dress that way. His mother has been ill. He wore out his +play-clothes. If you've had experience of children you'll know how +suddenly they demolish clothes. She wasn't well enough to do any +tailoring, so there was nothing to do but send Leonard forth in his big +brother's unchanged cast-offs." +</P> + +<P> +Jane's anger had quite passed away before Dorn finished this simple, +ingenuous recital of poverty unashamed, this somehow fine laying open +of the inmost family secrets. "What a splendid person your sister must +be!" exclaimed she. +</P> + +<P> +She more than liked the look that now came into his face. He said: +"Indeed she is!—more so than anyone except us of the family can +realize. Mother's getting old and almost helpless. My brother-in-law +was paralyzed by an accident at the rolling mill where he worked. My +sister takes care of both of them—and her two boys—and of me—keeps +the house in band-box order, manages a big garden that gives us most of +what we eat—and has time to listen to the woes of all the neighbors +and to give them the best advice I ever heard." +</P> + +<P> +"How CAN she?" cried Jane. "Why, the day isn't long enough." +</P> + +<P> +Dorn laughed. "You'll never realize how much time there is in a day, +Miss Jane Hastings, until you try to make use of it all. It's very +interesting—how much there is in a minute and in a dollar if you're +intelligent about them." +</P> + +<P> +Jane looked at him in undisguised wonder and admiration. "You don't +know what a pleasure it is," she said, "to meet anyone whose sentences +you couldn't finish for him before he's a quarter the way through them." +</P> + +<P> +Victor threw back his head and laughed—a boyish outburst that would +have seemed boorish in another, but came as naturally from him as song +from a bird. "You mean Davy Hull," said he. +</P> + +<P> +Jane felt herself coloring even more. "I didn't mean him especially," +replied she. "But he's a good example." +</P> + +<P> +"The best I know," declared Victor. "You see, the trouble with Davy is +that he is one kind of a person, wants to be another kind, thinks he +ought to be a third kind, and believes he fools people into thinking he +is still a fourth kind." +</P> + +<P> +Jane reflected on this, smiled understandingly. "That sounds like a +description of ME," said she. +</P> + +<P> +"Probably," said Victor. "It's a very usual type in the second +generation in your class." +</P> + +<P> +"My class?" said Jane, somewhat affectedly. "What do you mean?" +</P> + +<P> +"The upper class," explained Victor. +</P> + +<P> +Jane felt that this was an opportunity for a fine exhibition of her +democracy. "I don't like that," said she. "I'm a good American, and I +don't believe in classes. I don't feel—at least I try not to +feel—any sense of inequality between myself and those—those +less—less—fortunately off. I'm not expressing myself well, but you +know what I mean." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I know what you mean," rejoined Victor. "But that wasn't what I +meant, at all. You are talking about social classes in the narrow +sense. That sort of thing isn't important. One associates with the +kind of people that pleases one—and one has a perfect right to do so. +If I choose to have my leisure time with people who dress a certain +way, or with those who have more than a certain amount of money, or +more than a certain number of servants or what not—why, that's my own +lookout." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm SO glad to hear you say that," cried Jane. "That's SO sensible." +</P> + +<P> +"Snobbishness may be amusing," continued Dorn, "or it may be +repulsive—or pitiful. But it isn't either interesting or important. +The classes I had in mind were the economic classes—upper, middle, +lower. The upper class includes all those who live without +work—aristocrats, gamblers, thieves, preachers, women living off men +in or out of marriage, grown children living off their parents or off +inheritances. All the idlers." +</P> + +<P> +Jane looked almost as uncomfortable as she felt. She had long taken a +secret delight in being regarded and spoken of as an "upper class" +person. Henceforth this delight would be at least alloyed. +</P> + +<P> +"The middle class," pursued Victor, "is those who are in part parasites +and in part workers. The lower class is those who live by what they +earn only. For example, you are upper class, your father is middle +class and I am lower class." +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you," said Jane demurely, "for an interesting lesson in +political economy." +</P> + +<P> +"You invited it," laughed Victor. "And I guess it wasn't much more +tiresome to you than talk about the weather would have been. The +weather's probably about the only other subject you and I have in +common." +</P> + +<P> +"That's rude," said Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"Not as I meant it," said he. "I wasn't exalting my subjects or +sneering at yours. It's obvious that you and I lead wholly different +lives." +</P> + +<P> +"I'd much rather lead your life than my own," said Jane. "But—you are +impatient to see father. You came to see him?" +</P> + +<P> +"He telephoned asking me to come to dinner—that is, lunch. I believe +it's called lunch when it's second in this sort of house." +</P> + +<P> +"Father calls it dinner, and I call it lunch, and the servants call it +IT. They simply say, 'It's ready.'" +</P> + +<P> +Jane went in search of her father, found him asleep in his chair in the +little office, one of his dirty little account books clasped in his +long, thin fingers with their rheumatic side curve. The maid had seen +him there and had held back dinner until he should awaken. Perhaps +Jane's entrance roused him; or, perhaps it was the odor of the sachet +powder wherewith her garments were liberally scented, for he had a +singularly delicate sense of smell. He lifted his head and, after the +manner of aged and confirmed cat-nappers, was instantly wide awake. +</P> + +<P> +"Why didn't you tell me Victor Dorn was coming for dinner?" said she. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh—he's here, is he?" said Hastings, chuckling. "You see I took your +advice. Tell Lizzie to lay an extra plate." +</P> + +<P> +Hastings regarded this invitation as evidence of his breadth of mind, +his freedom from prejudice, his disposition to do the generous and the +helpful thing. In fact, it was evidence of little more than his +dominant and most valuable trait—his shrewdness. After one careful +glance over the ruins of his plan, he appreciated that Victor Dorn was +at last a force to be reckoned with. He had been growing, +growing—somewhat above the surface, a great deal more beneath the +surface. His astonishing victory demonstrated his power over Remsen +City labor—in a single afternoon he had persuaded the street car union +to give up without hesitation a strike it had been planning—at least, +it thought it had been doing the planning—for months. The Remsen City +plutocracy was by no means dependent upon the city government of Remsen +City. It had the county courts—the district courts—the State courts +even, except where favoring the plutocracy would be too obviously +outrageous for judges who still considered themselves men of honest and +just mind to decide that way. The plutocracy, further, controlled all +the legislative and executive machinery. To dislodge it from these +fortresses would mean a campaign of years upon years, conducted by men +of the highest ability, and enlisting a majority of the voters of the +State. Still, possession of the Remsen City government was a most +valuable asset. A hostile government could "upset business," could +"hamper the profitable investment of capital," in other words could +establish justice to a highly uncomfortable degree. This victory of +Dorn's made it clear to Hastings that at last Dorn was about to unite +the labor vote under his banner—which meant that he was about to +conquer the city government. It was high time to stop him and, if +possible, to give his talents better employment. +</P> + +<P> +However, Hastings, after the familiar human fashion, honestly thought +he was showing generosity, was going out of his way to "give a likely +young fellow a chance." When he came out on the veranda he stretched +forth a graciously friendly hand and, looking shrewdly into Victor's +boyishly candid eyes, said: +</P> + +<P> +"Glad to see you, young man. I want to thank you for ending that +strike. I was born a working man, and I've been one all my life and, +when I can't work any more, I want to quit the earth. So, being a +working man, I hate to see working men make fools of themselves." +</P> + +<P> +Jane was watching the young man anxiously. She instinctively knew that +this speech must be rousing his passion for plain and direct speaking. +Before he had time to answer she said: "Dinner's waiting. Let's go in." +</P> + +<P> +And on the way she made an opportunity to say to him in an undertone: +"I do hope you'll be careful not to say anything that'll upset father. +I have to warn every one who comes here. His digestion's bad, and the +least thing makes him ill, and—" she smiled charmingly at him—"I HATE +nursing. It's too much like work to suit an upper-class person." +</P> + +<P> +There was no resisting such an appeal as that. Victor sat silent and +ate, and let the old man talk on and on. Jane saw that it was a severe +trial to him to seem to be assenting to her father's views. Whenever +he showed signs of casting off his restraint, she gave him a pleading +glance. And the old man, so weazened, so bent and shaky, with his bowl +of crackers and milk, was—or seemed to be—proof that the girl was +asking of him only what was humane. Jane relieved the situation by +talking volubly about herself—her college experiences, what she had +seen and done in Europe. +</P> + +<P> +After dinner Hastings said: +</P> + +<P> +"I'll drive you back to town, young man. I'm going in to work, as +usual. I never took a vacation in my life. Can you beat that record?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I knock off every once in a while for a month or so," said Dorn. +</P> + +<P> +"The young fellows growing up nowadays ain't equal to us of the old +stock," said Martin. "They can't stand the strain. Well, if you're +ready, we'll pull out." +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Dorn's going to stop a while with me, father," interposed Jane +with a significant glance at Victor. "I want to show him the grounds +and the views." +</P> + +<P> +"All right—all right," said her father. He never liked company in his +drives; company interfered with his thinking out what he was going to +do at the office. "I'm mighty glad to know you, young man. I hope +we'll know each other better. I think you'll find out that for a devil +I'm not half bad—eh?" +</P> + +<P> +Victor bowed, murmured something inarticulate, shook his host's hand, +and when the ceremony of parting was over drew a stealthy breath of +relief—which Jane observed. She excused herself to accompany her +father to his trap. As he was climbing in she said: +</P> + +<P> +"Didn't you rather like him, father?" +</P> + +<P> +Old Hastings gathered the reins in his lean, distorted hands. "So so," +said he. +</P> + +<P> +"He's got brains, hasn't he?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; he's smart; mighty smart." The old man's face relaxed in a +shrewd grin. "Too damn smart. Giddap, Bet." +</P> + +<P> +And he was gone. Jane stood looking after the ancient phaeton with an +expression half of amusement, half of discomfiture. "I might have +known," reflected she, "that popsy would see through it all." +</P> + +<P> +When she reappeared in the front doorway Victor Dorn was at the edge of +the veranda, ready to depart. As soon as he saw her he said gravely: +"I must be off, Miss Hastings. Thank you for the very interesting +dinner." He extended his hand. "Good day." +</P> + +<P> +She put her hands behind her back, and stood smiling gently at him. +"You mustn't go—not just yet. I'm about to show you the trees and the +grass, the bees, the chickens and the cows. Also, I've something +important to say to you." +</P> + +<P> +He shook his head. "I'm sorry, but I must go." +</P> + +<P> +She stiffened slightly; her smile changed from friendly to cold. +"Oh—pardon me," she said. "Good-by." +</P> + +<P> +He bowed, and was on the walk, and running rapidly toward the entrance +gates. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Dorn!" she called. +</P> + +<P> +He turned. +</P> + +<P> +She was afraid to risk asking him to come back for a moment. He might +refuse. Standing there, looking so resolute, so completely master of +himself, so devoid of all suggestion of need for any one or anything, +he seemed just the man to turn on his heel and depart. She descended +to the walk and went to him. She said: +</P> + +<P> +"Why are you acting so peculiarly? Why did you come?" +</P> + +<P> +"Because I understood that your father wished to propose some changes +in the way of better hours and better wages for the men," replied he. +"I find that the purpose was—not that." +</P> + +<P> +"What was it?" +</P> + +<P> +"I do not care to go into that." +</P> + +<P> +He was about to go on—on out of her life forever, she felt. "Wait," +she cried. "The men will get better hours and wages. You don't +understand father's ways. He was really discussing that very thing—in +his own mind. You'll see. He has a great admiration for you. You can +do a lot with him. You owe it to the men to make use of his liking." +</P> + +<P> +He looked at her in silence for a moment. Then he said: "I'll have to +be at least partly frank with you. In all his life no one has ever +gotten anything out of your father. He uses men. They do not use him." +</P> + +<P> +"Believe me, that is unjust," cried Jane. "I'll tell you another thing +that was on his mind. He wants to—to make reparation for—that +accident to your father. He wants to pay your mother and you the money +the road didn't pay you when it ought." +</P> + +<P> +Dorn's candid face showed how much he was impressed. This beautiful, +earnest girl, sweet and frank, seemed herself to be another view of +Martin Hastings' character—one more in accord with her strong belief +in the essential goodness of human nature. +</P> + +<P> +Said he: "Your father owes us nothing. As for the road—its debt +never existed legally—only morally. And it has been outlawed long +ago—for there's a moral statute of limitations, too. The best thing +that ever happened to us was our not getting that money. It put us on +our mettle. It might have crushed us. It happened to be just the thing +that was needed to make us." +</P> + +<P> +Jane marveled at this view of his family, at the verge of poverty, as +successful. But she could not doubt his sincerity. Said she sadly, +"But it's not to the credit of the road—or of father. He must +pay—and he knows he must." +</P> + +<P> +"We can't accept," said Dorn—a finality. +</P> + +<P> +"But you could use it to build up the paper," urged Jane, to detain him. +</P> + +<P> +"The paper was started without money. It lives without money—and it +will go on living without money, or it ought to die." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't understand," said Jane. "But I want to understand. I want to +help. Won't you let me?" +</P> + +<P> +He shook his head laughingly. "Help what?" inquired he. "Help raise +the sun? It doesn't need help." +</P> + +<P> +Jane began to see. "I mean, I want to be helped," she cried. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, that's another matter," said he. "And very simple." +</P> + +<P> +"Will YOU help me?" +</P> + +<P> +"I can't. No one can. You've got to help yourself. Each one of us is +working for himself—working not to be rich or to be famous or to be +envied, but to be free." +</P> + +<P> +"Working for himself—that sounds selfish, doesn't it?" +</P> + +<P> +"If you are wise, Jane Hastings," said Dorn, "you will +distrust—disbelieve in—anything that is not selfish." +</P> + +<P> +Jane reflected. "Yes—I see," she cried. "I never thought of that!" +</P> + +<P> +"A friend of mine, Wentworth," Victor went on, "has put it wonderfully +clearly. He said, 'Some day we shall realize that no man can be free +until all men are free.'" +</P> + +<P> +"You HAVE helped me—in spite of your fierce refusal," laughed Jane. +"You are very impatient to go, aren't you? Well, since you won't stay +I'll walk with you—as far as the end of the shade." +</P> + +<P> +She was slightly uneasy lest her overtures should be misunderstood. By +the time they reached the first long, sunny stretch of the road down to +town she was so afraid that those overtures would not be +"misunderstood" that she marched on beside him in the hot sun. She did +not leave him until they reached the corner of Pike avenue—and then it +was he that left her, for she could cudgel out no excuse for going +further in his direction. The only hold she had got upon him for a +future attempt was slight indeed—he had vaguely agreed to lend her +some books. +</P> + +<P> +People who have nothing to do get rid of a great deal of time in trying +to make impressions and in speculating as to what impressions they have +made. Jane—hastening toward Martha's to get out of the sun which +could not but injure a complexion so delicately fine as hers—gave +herself up to this form of occupation. What did he think of her? Did +he really have as little sense of her physical charm as he seemed? No +woman could hope to be attractive to every man. Still—this man surely +must be at least not altogether insensible. "If he sends me those +books to-day—or tomorrow—or even next day," thought Jane, "it will be +a pretty sure sign that he was impressed—whether he knows it or not." +</P> + +<P> +She had now definitely passed beyond the stage where she wondered at +herself—and reproached herself—for wishing to win a man of such +common origin and surroundings. She could not doubt Victor Dorn's +superiority. Such a man as that didn't need birth or wealth or even +fame. He simply WAS the man worth while—worth any woman's while. How +could Selma be associated so intimately with him without trying to get +him in love with her? Perhaps she had tried and had given up? +No—Selma was as strange in her way as he was in his way. What a +strange—original—INDIVIDUAL pair they were! +</P> + +<P> +"But," concluded Jane, "he belongs with US. I must take him away from +all that. It will be interesting to do it—so interesting that I'll be +sorry when it's done, and I'll be looking about for something else to +do." +</P> + +<P> +She was not without hope that the books would come that same evening. +But they did not. The next day passed, and the next, and still no +books. Apparently he had meant nothing by his remark, "I've some books +you'd be interested to read." Was his silence indifference, or was it +shyness? Probably she could only faintly appreciate the effect her +position, her surroundings produced in this man whose physical +surroundings had always been as poor as her mental surroundings—those +created by that marvelous mind of his—had been splendid. +</P> + +<P> +She tried to draw out her father on the subject of the young man, with +a view to getting a hint as to whether he purposed doing anything +further. But old Hastings would not talk about it; he was still +debating, was looking at the matter from a standpoint where his +daughter's purely theoretical acumen could not help him to a decision. +Jane rather feared that where her father was evidently so doubtful he +would follow his invariable rule in doubtful cases. +</P> + +<P> +On the fourth day, being still unable to think of anything but her +project for showing her prowess by conquering this man with no time for +women, she donned a severely plain walking costume and went to his +office. +</P> + +<P> +At the threshold of the "Sanctum" she stopped short. Selma, pencil +poised over her block of copy paper and every indication of impatience, +albeit polite impatience, in her fascinating Cossack face, was talking +to—or, rather, listening to—David Hull. Like not a few young +men—and young women—brought up in circumstances that surround them +with people deferential for the sake of what there is, or may possibly +be, in it—Davy Hull had the habit of assuming that all the world was +as fond of listening to him as he was of listening to himself. So it +did not often occur to him to observe his audience for signs of a +willingness to end the conversation. +</P> + +<P> +Selma, turning a little further in her nervousness, saw Jane and sprang +up with a radiant smile of welcome. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm SO glad!" she cried, rushing toward her and kissing her. "I've +thought about you often, and wished I could find time to come to see +you." +</P> + +<P> +Jane was suddenly as delighted as Selma. For Selma's burst of +friendliness, so genuine, so unaffected, in this life of blackness and +cold always had the effect of sun suddenly making summer out of a chill +autumnal day. Nor, curiously enough, was her delight lessened by Davy +Hull's blundering betrayal of himself. His color, his eccentric +twitchings of the lips and the hands would have let a far less astute +young woman than Jane Hastings into the secret of the reason for his +presence in that office when he had said he couldn't "afford" to go. +So guilty did he feel that he stammered out: +</P> + +<P> +"I dropped in to see Dorn." +</P> + +<P> +"You wished to see Victor?" exclaimed the guileless Selma. "Why didn't +you say so? I'd have told you at once that he was in Indianapolis and +wouldn't be back for two or three days." +</P> + +<P> +Jane straightway felt still better. The disgusting mystery of the +books that did not come was now cleared up. Secure in the certainty of +Selma's indifference to Davy she proceeded to punish him. "What a +stupid you are, Davy!" she cried mockingly. "The instant I saw your +face I knew you were here to flirt with Miss Gordon." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, no, Miss Hastings," protested Selma with quaint intensity of +seriousness, "I assure you he was not flirting. He was telling me +about the reform movement he and his friends are organizing." +</P> + +<P> +"That is his way of flirting," said Jane. "Every animal has its own +way—and an elephant's way is different from a mosquito's." +</P> + +<P> +Selma was eyeing Hull dubiously. It was bad enough for him to have +taken her time in a well-meaning attempt to enlighten her as to a new +phase of local politics; to take her time, to waste it, in +flirting—that was too exasperating! +</P> + +<P> +"Miss Hastings has a sense of humor that runs riot at times," said Hull. +</P> + +<P> +"You can't save yourself, Davy," mocked Jane. "Come along. Miss Gordon +has no time for either of us." +</P> + +<P> +"I do want YOU to stay," she said to Jane. "But, unfortunately, with +Victor away——" She looked disconsolately at the half-finished page +of copy. +</P> + +<P> +"I came only to snatch Davy away," said Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"Next thing we know, he'll be one of Mr. Dorn's lieutenants." +</P> + +<P> +Thus Jane escaped without having to betray why she had come. In the +street she kept up her raillery. "And a WORKING girl, Davy! What would +our friends say! And you who are always boasting of your +fastidiousness! Flirting with a girl who—I've seen her three times, +and each time she has had on exactly the same plain, cheap little +dress." +</P> + +<P> +There was a nastiness, a vulgarity in this that was as unworthy of Jane +as are all the unlovely emotions of us who are always sweet and refined +when we are our true selves—but have a bad habit of only too often not +being what we flatter ourselves is our true selves. Jane was growing +angry as she, away from Selma, resumed her normal place in the world +and her normal point of view. Davy Hull belonged to her; he had no +right to be hanging about another, anyway—especially an attractive +woman. Her anger was not lessened by Davy's retort. Said he: +</P> + +<P> +"Her dress may have been the same. But her face wasn't—and her mind +wasn't. Those things are more difficult to change than a dress." +</P> + +<P> +She was so angry that she did not take warning from this reminder that +Davy was by no means merely a tedious retailer of stale commonplaces. +She said with fine irony—and with no show of anger: "It is always a +shock to a lady to realize how coarse men are—how they don't +discriminate." +</P> + +<P> +Davy laughed. "Women get their rank from men," said he coolly. +</P> + +<P> +"In themselves they have none. That's the philosophy of the +peculiarity you've noted." +</P> + +<P> +This truth, so galling to a lady, silenced Jane, made her bite her lips +with rage. "I beg your pardon," she finally said. "I didn't realize +that you were in love with Selma." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I am in love with her," was Davy's astounding reply. "She's the +noblest and simplest creature I've ever met." +</P> + +<P> +"You don't mean you want to marry her!" exclaimed Jane, so amazed that +she for the moment lost sight of her own personal interest in this +affair. +</P> + +<P> +Davy looked at her sadly, and a little contemptuously. +</P> + +<P> +"What a poor opinion at bottom you women—your sort of women—have of +woman," said he. +</P> + +<P> +"What a poor opinion of men you mean," retorted she. "After a little +experience of them a girl—even a girl—learns that they are incapable +of any emotion that isn't gross." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't be so ladylike, Jane," said Hull. +</P> + +<P> +Miss Hastings was recovering control of herself. She took a new tack. +"You haven't asked her yet?" +</P> + +<P> +"Hardly. This is the second time I've seen her. I suspected that she +was the woman for me the moment I saw her. To-day I confirmed my idea. +She is all that I thought—and more. And, Jane, I know that you +appreciate her, too." +</P> + +<P> +Jane now saw that Davy was being thus abruptly and speedily confiding +because he had decided it was the best way out of his entanglement with +her. Behind his coolness she could see an uneasy watchfulness—the +fear that she might try to hold him. Up boiled her rage—the higher +because she knew that if there were any possible way of holding Davy, +she would take it—not because she wished to, or would, marry him, but +because she had put her mark upon him. But this new rage was of the +kind a clever woman has small difficulty in dissembling. +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed I do appreciate her, Davy," said she sweetly. "And I hope you +will be happy with her." +</P> + +<P> +"You think I can get her?" said he, fatuously eager. "You think she +likes me? I've been rather hoping that because it seized me so +suddenly and so powerfully it must have seized her, too. I think often +things occur that way." +</P> + +<P> +"In novels," said Jane, pleasantly judicial. "But in real life about +the hardest thing to do is for a man to make a woman care for +him—really care for him." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, no matter how hard I have to try——" +</P> + +<P> +"Of course," pursued Miss Hastings, ignoring his interruption, "when a +man who has wealth and position asks a woman who hasn't to marry him, +she usually accepts—unless he happens to be downright repulsive, or +she happens to be deeply and hopefully in love with another man." +</P> + +<P> +Davy winced satisfactorily. "Do you suspect," he presently asked, +"that she's in love with Victor Dorn?" +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps," said Jane reflectively. "Probably. But I'd not feel +discouraged by that if I were you." +</P> + +<P> +"Dorn's a rather attractive chap in some ways." +</P> + +<P> +Davy's manner was so superior that Jane almost laughed in his face. +What fools men were. If Victor Dorn had position, weren't surrounded +by his unquestionably, hopelessly common family, weren't deliberately +keeping himself common—was there a woman in the world who wouldn't +choose him without a second thought being necessary, in preference to a +Davy Hull? How few men there were who could reasonably hope to hold +their women against all comers. +</P> + +<P> +Victor Dorn might possibly be of those few. But Davy Hull—the idea +was ridiculous. All his advantages—height, looks, money, +position—were excellent qualities in a show piece; but they weren't +the qualities that make a woman want to live her life with a man, that +make her hope he will be able to give her the emotions woman-nature +craves beyond anything. +</P> + +<P> +"He is very attractive," said Jane, "and I've small doubt that Selma +Gordon is infatuated with him. But—I shouldn't let that worry me if I +were you." She paused to enjoy his anxiety, then proceeded: "She is a +level-headed girl. The girls of the working class—the intelligent +ones—have had the silly sentimentalities knocked out of them by +experience. So, when you ask her to marry you, she will accept." +</P> + +<P> +"What a low opinion you have of her!" exclaimed Davy. "What a low view +you take of life!"—most inconsistent of him, since he was himself more +than half convinced that Jane's observations were not far from the +truth. +</P> + +<P> +"Women are sensible," said Jane tranquilly. "They appreciate that +they've got to get a man to support them. Don't forget, my dear Davy, +that marriage is a woman's career." +</P> + +<P> +"You lived abroad too long," said Hull bitterly. +</P> + +<P> +"I've lived at home and abroad long enough and intelligently enough not +to think stupid hypocrisies, even if I do sometimes imitate other +people and SAY them." +</P> + +<P> +"I am sure that Selma Gordon would no more think of marrying me for any +other reason but love—would no more think of it than—than YOU would!" +</P> + +<P> +"No more," was Jane's unruffled reply. "But just as much. I didn't +absolutely refuse you, when you asked me the other day, partly because +I saw no other way of stopping your tiresome talk—and your +unattractive way of trying to lay hands on me. I DETEST being handled." +</P> + +<P> +Davy was looking so uncomfortable that he attracted the attention of +the people they were passing in wide, shady Lincoln Avenue. +</P> + +<P> +"But my principal reason," continued Jane, mercilessly amiable and +candid, "was that I didn't know but that you might prove to be about +the best I could get, as a means to realizing my ambition." She looked +laughingly at the unhappy young man. "You didn't think I was in love +with you, did you, Davy dear?" Then, while the confusion following this +blow was at its height, she added: "You'll remember one of your chief +arguments for my accepting you was ambition. You didn't think it low +then—did you?" +</P> + +<P> +Hull was one of the dry-skinned people. But if he had been sweating +profusely he would have looked and would have been less wretched than +burning up in the smothered heat of his misery. +</P> + +<P> +They were nearing Martha's gates. Jane said: "Yes, Davy, you've got a +good chance. And as soon as she gets used to our way of living, she'll +make you a good wife." She laughed gayly. +</P> + +<P> +"She'll not be quite so pretty when she settles down and takes on +flesh. I wonder how she'll look in fine clothes and jewels." +</P> + +<P> +She measured Hull's stature with a critical eye. "She's only about +half as tall as you. How funny you'll look together!" With sudden +soberness and sweetness, "But, seriously, David, I'm proud of your +courage in taking a girl for herself regardless of her surroundings. +So few men would be willing to face the ridicule and the criticism, and +all the social difficulties." She nodded encouragingly. "Go in and +win! You can count on my friendship—for I'm in love with her myself." +</P> + +<P> +She left him standing dazedly, looking up and down the street as if it +were some strange and pine-beset highway in a foreign land. +</P> + +<P> +After taking a few steps she returned to the gates and called him: "I +forgot to ask do you want me to regard what you've told me as +confidential? I was thinking of telling Martha and Hugo, and it +occurred to me that you might not like it." +</P> + +<P> +"Please don't say anything about it," said he with panicky eagerness. +"You see—nothing's settled yet." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, she'll accept you." +</P> + +<P> +"But I haven't even asked her," pleaded Hull. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh—all right—as you please." +</P> + +<P> +When she was safely within doors she dropped to a chair and burst out +laughing. It was part of Jane's passion for the sense of triumph over +the male sex to felt that she had made a "perfect jumping jack of a +fool" of David Hull. "And I rather think," said she to herself, "that +he'll soon be back where he belongs." This with a glance at the tall +heels of the slippers on the good-looking feet she was thrusting out +for her own inspection. "How absurd for him to imagine he could do +anything unconventional. Is there any coward anywhere so cowardly as +an American conventional man? No wonder I hate to think of marrying +one of them. But—I suppose I'll have to do it some day. What's a +woman to do? She's GOT to marry." +</P> + +<P> +So pleased with herself was she that she behaved with unusual +forbearance toward Martha whose conduct of late had been most trying. +Not Martha's sometimes peevish, sometimes plaintive criticisms of her; +these she did not mind. But Martha's way of ordering her own life. +Jane, moving about in the world with a good mind eager to improve, had +got a horror of a woman's going to pieces—and that was what Martha was +doing. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm losing my looks rapidly," was her constant complaint. As she had +just passed thirty there was, in Jane's opinion, not the smallest +excuse for this. The remedy, the preventive, was obvious—diet and +exercise. But Martha, being lazy and self-indulgent and not +imaginative enough to foresee to what a pass a few years more of +lounging and stuffing would bring her, regarded exercise as unladylike +and dieting as unhealthful. She would not weaken her system by taking +less than was demanded by "nature's infallible guide, the healthy +appetite." She would not give up the venerable and aristocratic +tradition that a lady should ever be reposeful. +</P> + +<P> +"Another year or so," warned Jane, "and you'll be as steatopygous as +the bride of a Hottentot chief." +</P> + +<P> +"What does steat—that word mean?" said Martha suspiciously. +</P> + +<P> +"Look in the dictionary," said Jane. "Its synonyms aren't used by +refined people." +</P> + +<P> +"I knew it was something insulting," said Martha with an injured sniff. +</P> + +<P> +The only concessions Martha would make to the latter-day craze of women +for youthfulness were buying a foolish chin-strap of a beauty quack and +consulting him as to whether, if her hair continued to gray, she would +better take to peroxide or to henna. +</P> + +<P> +Jane had come down that day with a severe lecture on fat and wrinkles +laid out in her mind for energetic delivery to the fast-seeding Martha. +She put off the lecture and allowed the time to be used by Martha in +telling Jane what were her (Jane's) strongest and less strong—not +weaker but less strong, points of physical charm. +</P> + +<P> +It was cool and beautiful in the shade of the big gardens behind the +old Galland house. Jane, listening to Martha's honest and just +compliments and to the faint murmurs of the city's dusty, sweaty toil, +had a delicious sense of the superiority of her lot—a feeling that +somehow there must be something in the theory of rightfully superior +and inferior classes—that in taking what she had not earned she was +not robbing those who had earned it, as her reason so often asserted, +but was being supported by the toil of others for high purposes of +aesthetic beauty. Anyhow, why heat one's self wrestling with these +problems? +</P> + +<P> +When she was sure that Victor Dorn must have returned she called him on +the telephone. "Can't you come out to see me to-night?" said she. +"I've something important—something YOU'LL think important—to consult +you about." She felt a refusal forming at the other end of the wire +and hastened to add: "You must know I'd not ask this if I weren't +certain you would be glad you came." +</P> + +<P> +"Why not drop in here when you're down town?" suggested Victor. +</P> + +<P> +She wondered why she did not hang up the receiver and forget him. +</P> + +<P> +But she did not. She murmured, "In due time I'll punish you for this, +sir," and said to him: "There are reasons why it's impossible for me +to go there just now. And you know I can't meet you in a saloon or on +a street corner." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not so sure of that," laughed he. "Let me see. I'm very busy. +But I could come for half an hour this afternoon." +</P> + +<P> +She had planned an evening session, being well aware of the favorable +qualities of air and light after the matter-of-fact sun has withdrawn +his last rays. But she promptly decided to accept what offered. "At +three?" +</P> + +<P> +"At four," replied he. +</P> + +<P> +"You haven't forgotten those books?" +</P> + +<P> +"Books? Oh, yes—yes, I remember. I'll bring them." +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you so much," said she sweetly. "Good-by." +</P> + +<P> +And at four she was waiting for him on the front veranda in a house +dress that was—well, it was not quite the proper costume for such an +occasion, but no one else was to see, and he didn't know about that +sort of thing—and the gown gave her charms their best possible +exposure except evening dress, which was out of the question. She had +not long to wait. One of the clocks within hearing had struck and +another was just beginning to strike when she saw him coming toward the +house. She furtively watched him, admiring his walk without quite +knowing why. You may perhaps know the walk that was Victor's—a steady +forward advance of the whole body held firmly, almost rigidly—the walk +of a man leading another to the scaffold, or of a man being led there +in conscious innocence, or of a man ready to go wherever his purposes +may order—ready to go without any heroics or fuss of any kind, but +simply in the course of the day's business. When a man walks like +that, he is worth observing—and it is well to think twice before +obstructing his way. +</P> + +<P> +That steady, inevitable advance gave Jane Hastings an absurd feeling of +nervousness. She had an impulse to fly, as from some oncoming danger. +Yet what was coming, in fact? A clever young man of the working class, +dressed in garments of the kind his class dressed in on Sunday, and +plebeianly carrying a bundle under his arm. +</P> + +<P> +"Our clock says you are three seconds late," cried she, laughing and +extending her hand in a friendly, equal way that would have immensely +flattered almost any man of her own class. "But another protests that +you are one second early." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm one of those fools who waste their time and their nerves by being +punctual," said he. +</P> + +<P> +He laid the books on the wicker sofa. But instead of sitting Jane +said: "We might be interrupted here. Come to the west veranda." +</P> + +<P> +There she had him in a leafy solitude—he facing her as she posed in +fascinating grace in a big chair. He looked at her—not the look of a +man at a woman, but the look of a busy person at one who is about to +show cause for having asked for a portion of his valuable time. She +laughed—and laughter was her best gesture. "I can never talk to you if +you pose like that," said she. "Honestly now, is your time so +pricelessly precious?" +</P> + +<P> +He echoed her laugh and settled himself more at his ease. "What did +you want of me?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"I intend to try to get better hours and better wages for the street +car men," said she. "To do it, I must know just what is right—what I +can hope to get. General talk is foolish. If I go at father I must +have definite proposals to make, with reasons for them. I don't want +him to evade. I would have gotten my information elsewhere, but I +could think of no one but you who might not mislead me." +</P> + +<P> +She had confidently expected that this carefully thought out scheme +would do the trick. He would admire her, would be interested, would be +drawn into a position where she could enlist him as a constant adviser. +He moved toward the edge of his chair as if about to rise. He said, +pleasantly enough but without a spark of enthusiasm: +</P> + +<P> +"That's very nice of you, Miss Hastings. But I can't advise +you—beyond saying that if I were you, I shouldn't meddle." +</P> + +<P> +She—that is, her vanity—was cut to the quick. "Oh!" said she with +irony, "I fancied you wished the laboring men to have a better sort of +life." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said he. "But I'm not in favor of running hysterically about +with a foolish little atomizer in the great stable. You are talking +charity. I am working for justice. It will not really benefit the +working man for the company, at the urging of a sweet and lovely young +Lady Bountiful, to deign graciously to grant a little less slavery to +them. In fact, a well fed, well cared for slave is worse off than one +who's badly treated—worse off because farther from his freedom. The +only things that do our class any good, Miss Hastings, are the things +they COMPEL—compel by their increased intelligence and increased unity +and power. They get what they deserve. They won't deserve more until +they compel more. Gifts won't help—not even gifts from—" His +intensely blue eyes danced—"from such charming white hands so +beautifully manicured." +</P> + +<P> +She rose with an angry toss of the head. "I didn't ask you here to +annoy me with impertinences about my finger nails." +</P> + +<P> +He rose, at his ease, good-humored, ready to go. "Then you should have +worn gloves," said he carelessly, "for I've been able to think only of +your finger nails—and to wonder WHAT can be done with hands like that. +Thank you for a pleasant talk." He bowed and smiled. "Good-by. +Oh—Miss Gordon sent you her love." +</P> + +<P> +"What IS the matter, Mr. Dorn?" cried the girl desperately. "I want +your friendship—your respect. CAN'T I get it? Am I utterly hopeless +in your eyes?" +</P> + +<P> +A curious kind of color rose in his cheeks. His eyes regarded her with +a mysterious steadiness. "You want neither my respect nor my +friendship," said he. "You want to amuse yourself." He pointed at her +hands. "Those nails betray you." He shrugged his shoulders, laughed, +said as if to a child: "You are a nice girl, Jane Hastings. It's a +pity you weren't brought up to be of some use. But you weren't—and +it's too late." +</P> + +<P> +Her eyes flashed, her bosom heaved. "WHY do I take these things from +you? WHY do I invite them?" +</P> + +<P> +"Because you inherit your father's magnificent persistence—and you've +set your heart on the whim of making a fool of me—and you hate to give +up." +</P> + +<P> +"You wrong me—indeed you do," cried she. "I want to learn—I want to +be of use in the world. I want to have some kind of a real life." +</P> + +<P> +"Really?" mocked he good-humoredly. +</P> + +<P> +"Really," said she with all her power of sweet earnestness. +</P> + +<P> +"Then—cut your nails and go to work. And when you have become a +genuine laborer, you'll begin to try to improve not the condition of +others, but your own. The way to help workers is to abolish the idlers +who hang like a millstone about their necks. You can help only by +abolishing the one idler under your control." +</P> + +<P> +She stood nearer him, very near him. She threw out her lovely arms in +a gesture of humility. "I will do whatever you say," she said. +</P> + +<P> +They looked each into the other's eyes. The color fled from her face, +the blood poured into his—wave upon wave, until he was like a man who +has been set on fire by the furious heat of long years of equatorial +sun. He muttered, wheeled about and strode away—in resolute and +relentless flight. She dropped down where he had been sitting and hid +her face in her perfumed hands. +</P> + +<P> +"I care for him," she moaned, "and he saw and he despises me! How COULD +I—how COULD I!" +</P> + +<P> +Nevertheless, within a quarter of an hour she was in her dressing room, +standing at the table, eyes carefully avoiding her mirrored eyes—as +she cut her finger nails. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap04"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +IV +</H3> + +<P> +Jane was mistaken in her guess at the cause of Victor Dorn's agitation +and abrupt flight. If he had any sense whatever of the secret she had +betrayed to him and to herself at the same instant it was wholly +unconscious. He had become panic-stricken and had fled because he, +faced with her exuberance and tempting wealth of physical charm, had +become suddenly conscious of her and of himself in a way as new to him +as if he had been fresh from a monkery where no woman had ever been +seen. Thus far the world had been peopled for him with human beings +without any reference to sex. The phenomena of sex had not interested +him because his mind had been entirely taken up with the other aspects +of life; and he had not yet reached the stage of development where a +thinker grasps the truth that all questions are at bottom questions of +the sex relation, and that, therefore, no question can be settled right +until the sex relations are settled right. +</P> + +<P> +Jane Hastings was the first girl he had met in his whole life who was +in a position to awaken that side of his nature. And when his brain +suddenly filled with a torrent of mad longings and of sensuous +appreciations of her laces and silk, of her perfume and smoothness and +roundness, of the ecstasy that would come from contact with those warm, +rosy lips—when Victor Dorn found himself all in a flash eager +impetuosity to seize this woman whom he did not approve of, whom he did +not even like, he felt bowed with shame. He would not have believed +himself capable of such a thing. He fled. +</P> + +<P> +He fled, but she pursued. And when he sat down in the garden behind +his mother's cottage, to work at a table where bees and butterflies had +been his only disturbers, there was this SHE before him—her soft, +shining gaze fascinating his gaze, her useless but lovely white hands +extended tantalizingly toward him. +</P> + +<P> +As he continued to look at her, his disapproval and dislike melted. "I +was brutally harsh to her," he thought repentantly. +</P> + +<P> +"She was honestly trying to do the decent thing. How was she to know? +And wasn't I as much wrong as right in advising her not to help the +men?" +</P> + +<P> +Beyond question, it was theoretically best for the two opposing forces, +capital and labor, to fight their battle to its inevitable end without +interference, without truce, with quarter neither given nor taken on +either side. But practically—wasn't there something to be said for +such humane proposals of that of Jane Hastings? They would put off the +day of right conditions rightly and therefore permanently +founded—conditions in which master and slave or serf or wage-taker +would be no more; but, on the other hand, slaves with shorter hours of +toil and better surroundings could be enlightened more easily. +Perhaps. He was by no means sure; he could not but fear that anything +that tended to make the slave comfortable in his degradation must of +necessity weaken his aversion to degradation. Just as the worst kings +were the best kings because they hastened the fall of monarchy, so the +worst capitalists, the most rapacious, the most rigid enforcers of the +economic laws of a capitalistic society were the best capitalists, were +helping to hasten the day when men would work for what they earned and +would earn what they worked for—when every man's pay envelope would +contain his wages, his full wages, and nothing but his wages. +</P> + +<P> +Still, where judgment was uncertain, he certainly had been unjust to +that well meaning girl. And was she really so worthless as he had on +first sight adjudged her? There might be exceptions to the rule that a +parasite born and bred can have no other instructor or idea but those +of parasitism. She was honest and earnest, was eager to learn the +truth. She might be put to some use. At any rate he had been unworthy +of his own ideals when he, assuming without question that she was the +usual capitalistic snob with the itch for gratifying vanity by +patronizing the "poor dear lower classes," had been almost insultingly +curt and mocking. +</P> + +<P> +"What was the matter with me?" he asked himself. "I never acted in +that way before." And then he saw that his brusqueness had been the +cover for fear of of her—fear of the allure of her luxury and her +beauty. In love with her? He knew that he was not. No, his feeling +toward her was merely the crudest form of the tribute of man to +woman—though apparently woman as a rule preferred this form to any +other. +</P> + +<P> +"I owe her an apology," he said to himself. And so it came to pass +that at three the following afternoon he was once more facing her in +that creeper-walled seclusion whose soft lights were almost equal to +light of gloaming or moon or stars in romantic charm. +</P> + +<P> +Said he—always direct and simple, whether dealing with man or woman, +with devious person or straight: +</P> + +<P> +"I've come to beg your pardon for what I said yesterday." +</P> + +<P> +"You certainly were wild and strange," laughed she. +</P> + +<P> +"I was supercilious," said he. "And worse than that there is not. +However, as I have apologized, and you have accepted my apology, we +need waste no more time about that. You wished to persuade your father +to——" +</P> + +<P> +"Just a moment!" interrupted she. "I've a question to ask. WHY did you +treat me—why have you been treating me so—so harshly?" +</P> + +<P> +"Because I was afraid of you," replied he. "I did not realize it, but +that was the reason." +</P> + +<P> +"Afraid of ME," said she. "That's very flattering." +</P> + +<P> +"No," said he, coloring. "In some mysterious way I had been betrayed +into thinking of you as no man ought to think of a woman unless he is +in love with her and she with him. I am ashamed of myself. But I +shall conquer that feeling—or keep away from you.... Do you understand +what the street car situation is?" +</P> + +<P> +But she was not to be deflected from the main question, now that it had +been brought to the front so unexpectedly and in exactly the way most +favorable to her purposes. "You've made me uneasy," said she. "I +don't in the least understand what you mean. I have wanted, and I +still want, to be friends with you—good friends—just as you and Selma +Gordon are—though of course I couldn't hope to be as close a friend as +she is. I'm too ignorant—too useless." +</P> + +<P> +He shook his head—with him, a gesture that conveyed the full strength +of negation. "We are on opposite sides of a line across which +friendship is impossible. I could not be your friend without being +false to myself. You couldn't be mine unless you were by some accident +flung into the working class and forced to adopt it as your own. Even +then you'd probably remain what you are. Only a small part of the +working class as yet is at heart of the working class. Most of us +secretly—almost openly—despise the life of work, and dream and hope a +time of fortune that will put us up among the masters and the idlers." +His expressive eyes became eloquent. "The false and shallow ideas that +have been educated into us for ages can't be uprooted in a few brief +years." +</P> + +<P> +She felt the admiration she did not try to conceal. She saw the proud +and splendid conception of the dignity of labor—of labor as a +blessing, not a curse, as a badge of aristocracy and not of slavery and +shame. "You really believe that, don't you?" she said. "I know it's +true. I say I believe it—who doesn't SAY so? But I don't FEEL it." +</P> + +<P> +"That's honest," said he heartily. "That's some thing to build on." +</P> + +<P> +"And I'm going to build!" cried she. "You'll help me—won't you? I +know, it's a great deal to ask. Why should you take the time and the +trouble to bother with one single unimportant person." +</P> + +<P> +"That's the way I spend my life—in adding one man or one woman to our +party—one at a time. It's slow building, but it's the only kind that +endures. There are twelve hundred of us now—twelve hundred voters, I +mean. Ten years ago there were only three hundred. We'd expand much +more rapidly if it weren't for the constant shifts of population. Our +men are forced to go elsewhere as the pressure of capitalism gets too +strong. And in place of them come raw emigrants, ignorant, full of +dreams of becoming capitalists and exploiters of their fellow men and +idlers. Ambition they call it. Ambition!" He laughed. "What a +vulgar, what a cruel notion of rising in the world! To cease to be +useful, to become a burden to others! ... Did you ever think how many +poor creatures have to toil longer hours, how many children have to go +to the factory instead of to school, in order that there may be two +hundred and seven automobiles privately kept in this town and +seventy-four chauffeurs doing nothing but wait upon their masters? +Money doesn't grow on bushes, you know. Every cent of it has to be +earned by somebody—and earned by MANUAL labor." +</P> + +<P> +"I must think about that," she said—for the first time as much +interested in what he was saying as in the man himself. No small +triumph for Victor over the mind of a woman dominated, as was Jane +Hastings, by the sex instinct that determines the thoughts and actions +of practically the entire female sex. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes—think about it," he urged. "You will never see it—or +anything—until you see it for yourself." +</P> + +<P> +"That's the way your party is built—isn't it?" inquired she. "Of those +who see it for themselves." +</P> + +<P> +"Only those," replied he. "We want no others." +</P> + +<P> +"Not even their votes?" said she shrewdly. +</P> + +<P> +"Not even their votes," he answered. "We've no desire to get the +offices until we get them to keep. And when we shall have conquered +the city, we'll move on to the conquest of the county—then of the +district—then of the state. Our kind of movement is building in every +city now, and in most of the towns and many of the villages. The old +parties are falling to pieces because they stand for the old politics +of the two factions of the upper class quarreling over which of them +should superintend the exploiting of the people. Very few of us +realize what is going on before our very eyes—that we're seeing the +death agonies of one form of civilization and the birth-throes of a +newer form." +</P> + +<P> +"And what will it be?" asked the girl. +</P> + +<P> +She had been waiting for some sign of the "crank," the impractical +dreamer. She was confident that this question would reveal the man she +had been warned against—that in answering it he would betray his true +self. But he disappointed and surprised her. +</P> + +<P> +"How can I tell what it will be?" said he. "I'm not a prophet. All I +can say is I am sure it will be human, full of imperfections, full of +opportunities for improvements—and that I hope it will be better than +what we have now. Probably not much better, but a little—and that +little, however small it may be, will be a gain. Doesn't history show +a slow but steady advance of the idea that the world is for the people +who live in it, a slow retreat of the idea that the world and the +people and all its and their resources are for a favored few of some +kind of an upper class? Yes—I think it is reasonable to hope that out +of the throes will come a freer and a happier and a more intelligent +race." +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly she burst out, apparently irrelevantly: "But I can't—I +really can't agree with you that everyone ought to do physical labor. +That would drag the world down—yes, I'm sure it would." +</P> + +<P> +"I guess you haven't thought about that," said he. "Painters do +physical labor—and sculptors—and writers—and all the scientific +men—and the inventors—and—" He laughed at her—"Who doesn't do +physical labor that does anything really useful? Why, you yourself—at +tennis and riding and such things—do heavy physical labor. I've only +to look at your body to see that. But it's of a foolish kind—foolish +and narrowly selfish." +</P> + +<P> +"I see I'd better not try to argue with you," said she. +</P> + +<P> +"No—don't argue—with me or with anybody," rejoined he. "Sit down +quietly and think about life—about your life. Think how it is best to +live so that you may get the most out of life—the most substantial +happiness. Don't go on doing the silly customary things simply because +a silly customary world says they are amusing and worth while. +Think—and do—for yourself, Jane Hastings." +</P> + +<P> +She nodded slowly and thoughtfully. "I'll try to," she said. She +looked at him with the expression of the mind aroused. It was an +expression that often rewarded him after a long straight talk with a +fellow being. She went on: "I probably shan't do what you'd approve. +You see, I've got to be myself—got to live to a certain extent the +kind of a life fate has made for me." +</P> + +<P> +"You couldn't successfully live any other," said he. +</P> + +<P> +"But, while it won't be at all what you'd regard as a model life—or +even perhaps useful—it'll be very different—very much better—than it +would have been, if I hadn't met you—Victor Dorn." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I've done nothing," said he. "All I try to do is to encourage my +fellow beings to be themselves. So—live your own life—the life you +can live best—just as you wear the clothes that fit and become you.... +And now—about the street car question. What do you want of me?" +</P> + +<P> +"Tell me what to say to father." +</P> + +<P> +He shook his head. "Can't do it," said he. "There's a good place for +you to make a beginning. Put on an old dress and go down town and get +acquainted with the family life of the street-car men. Talk to their +wives and their children. Look into the whole business yourself." +</P> + +<P> +"But I'm not—not competent to judge," objected she. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, make yourself competent," advised he. +</P> + +<P> +"I might get Miss Gordon to go with me," suggested she. +</P> + +<P> +"You'll learn more thoroughly if you go alone," declared he. +</P> + +<P> +She hesitated—ventured with a winning smile: "You won't go with +me—just to get me started right?" +</P> + +<P> +"No," said he. "You've got to learn for yourself—or not at all. If I +go with you, you'll get my point of view, and it will take you so much +the longer to get your own." +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps you'd prefer I didn't go." +</P> + +<P> +"It's not a matter of much importance, one way or the other—except +perhaps to yourself," replied he. +</P> + +<P> +"Any one individual can do the human race little good by learning the +truth about life. The only benefit is to himself. Don't forget that in +your sweet enthusiasm for doing something noble and generous and +helpful. Don't become a Davy Hull. You know, Davy is on earth for the +benefit of the human race. Ever since he was born he has been taken +care of—supplied with food, clothing, shelter, everything. Yet he +imagines that he is somehow a God-appointed guardian of the people who +have gathered and cooked his food, made his clothing, served him in +every way. It's very funny, that attitude of your class toward mine." +</P> + +<P> +"They look up to us," said Jane. "You can't blame us for allowing +it—for becoming pleased with ourselves." +</P> + +<P> +"That's the worst of it—we do look up to you," admitted he. +"But—we're learning better." +</P> + +<P> +"YOU'VE already learned better—you personally, I mean. I think that +when you compare me, for instance, with a girl like Selma Gordon, you +look down on me." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you, yourself, feel that any woman who is self-supporting and +free is your superior?" +</P> + +<P> +"In some moods, I do," replied Jane. "In other moods, I feel as I was +brought up to feel." +</P> + +<P> +They talked on and on, she detaining him without seeming to do so. She +felt proud of her adroitness. But the truth was that his stopping on +for nearly two hours was almost altogether a tribute to her physical +charm—though Victor was unconscious of it. When the afternoon was +drawing on toward the time for her father to come, she reluctantly let +him go. She said: +</P> + +<P> +"But you'll come again?" +</P> + +<P> +"I can't do that," replied he regretfully. "I could not come to your +father's house and continue free. I must be able to say what I +honestly think, without any restraint." +</P> + +<P> +"I understand," said she. "And I want you to say and to write what you +believe to be true and right. But—we'll see each other again. I'm +sure we are going to be friends." +</P> + +<P> +His expression as he bade her good-by told her that she had won his +respect and his liking. She had a suspicion that she did not deserve +either; but she was full of good resolutions, and assured herself she +soon would be what she had pretended—that her pretenses were not +exactly false, only somewhat premature. +</P> + +<P> +At dinner that evening she said to her father: +</P> + +<P> +"I think I ought to do something beside enjoy myself. I've decided to +go down among the poor people and see whether I can't help them in some +way." +</P> + +<P> +"You'd better keep away from that part of town," advised her father. +"They live awful dirty, and you might catch some disease. If you want +to do anything for the poor, send a check to our minister or to the +charity society. There's two kinds of poor—those that are working +hard and saving their money and getting up out of the dirt, and those +that haven't got no spunk or get-up. The first kind don't need help, +and the second don't deserve it." +</P> + +<P> +"But there are the children, popsy," urged Jane. "The children of the +no-account poor ought to have a chance." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't reckon there ever was a more shiftless, do-easy pair than my +father and mother," rejoined Martin Hastings. "They were what set me +to jumping." +</P> + +<P> +She saw that his view was hopelessly narrow—that, while he regarded +himself justly as an extraordinary man, he also, for purposes of +prejudice and selfishness, regarded his own achievements in overcoming +what would have been hopeless handicaps to any but a giant in character +and in physical endurance as an instance of what any one could do if he +would but work. She never argued with him when she wished to carry her +point. She now said: +</P> + +<P> +"It seems to me that, in our own interest, we ought to do what we can +to make the poor live better. As you say, it's positively dangerous to +go about in the tenement part of town—and those people are always +coming among us. For instance, our servants have relatives living in +Cooper Street, where there's a pest of consumption." +</P> + +<P> +Old Hastings nodded. "That's part of Davy Hull's reform programme," +said he. "And I'm in favor of it. The city government ought to make +them people clean up." +</P> + +<P> +"Victor Dorn wants that done, too—doesn't he?" said Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"No," replied the old man sourly. "He says it's no use to clean up the +slums unless you raise wages—and that then the slum people'd clean +themselves up. The idea of giving those worthless trash more money to +spend for beer and whisky and finery for their fool daughters. Why, +they don't earn what we give 'em now." +</P> + +<P> +Jane couldn't resist the temptation to say, "I guess the laziest of +them earn more than Davy Hull or I." +</P> + +<P> +"Because some gets more than they earn ain't a reason why others +should." He grinned. "Maybe you and Davy ought to have less, but +Victor Dorn and his riff-raff oughtn't to be pampered.... Do you want +me to cut your allowance down?" +</P> + +<P> +She was ready for him. "If you can get as satisfactory a housekeeper +for less, you're a fool to overpay the one you have." +</P> + +<P> +The old man was delighted. "I've been cheating you," said he. "I'll +double your pay." +</P> + +<P> +"You're doing it just in time to stop a strike," laughed the girl. +</P> + +<P> +After a not unknown fashion she was most obedient to her father when +his commands happened to coincide with her own inclinations. +</P> + +<P> +Her ardor for an excursion into the slums and the tenements died almost +with Victor Dorn's departure. Her father's reasons for forbidding her +to go did not impress her as convincing, but she felt that she owed it +to him to respect his wishes. Anyhow, what could she find out that she +did not know already? Yes, Dorn and her father were right in the +conclusion each reached by a different road. She would do well not to +meddle where she could not possibly accomplish any good. She could +question the servants and could get from them all the facts she needed +for urging her father at least to cut down the hours of labor. +</P> + +<P> +The more she thought about Victor Dorn the more uneasy she became. She +had made more progress with him than she had hoped to make in so short +a time. But she had made it at an unexpected cost. If she had +softened him, he had established a disquieting influence over her. She +was not sure, but she was afraid, that he was stronger than she—that, +if she persisted in her whim, she would soon be liking him entirely too +well for her own comfort. Except as a pastime, Victor Dorn did not fit +into her scheme of life. If she continued to see him, to yield to the +delight of his magnetic voice, of his fresh and original mind, of his +energetic and dominating personality, might he not become +aroused—begin to assert power over her, compel her to—to—she could +not imagine what; only, it was foolish to deny that he was a dangerous +man. "If I've got good sense," decided she, "I'll let him alone. I've +nothing to gain and everything to lose." +</P> + +<P> +Her motor—the one her father had ordered as a birthday present—came +the next day; and on the following day two girl friends from +Cincinnati arrived for a long visit. So, Jane Hastings had the help +she felt she perhaps needed in resisting the temptings of her whim. +</P> + +<P> +To aid her in giving her friends a good time she impressed Davy Hull, +in spite of his protests that his political work made social fooling +about impossible. The truth was that the reform movement, of which he +was one of the figureheads, was being organized by far more skillful +and expert hands than his—and for purposes of which he had no notion. +So, he really had all the time in the world to look after Ellen +Clearwater and Josie Arthur, and to pose as a serious man bent upon +doing his duty as an upper class person of leisure. All that the +reform machine wished of him was to talk and to pose—and to ride on +the show seat of the pretty, new political wagon. +</P> + +<P> +The new movement had not yet been "sprung" upon the public. It was +still an open secret among the young men of the "better element" in the +Lincoln, the Jefferson and the University clubs. +</P> + +<P> +Money was being subscribed liberally by persons of good family who +hoped for political preferment and could not get it from the old +parties, and by corporations tired of being "blackmailed" by Kelly and +House, and desirous of getting into office men who would give them what +they wanted because it was for the public good that they should not be +hampered in any way. With plenty of money an excellent machine could +be built and set to running. Also, there was talk of a fusion with the +Democratic machine, House to order the wholesale indorsement of the +reform ticket in exchange for a few minor places. +</P> + +<P> +When the excitement among the young gentlemen over the approaching +moral regeneration of Remsen City politics was at the boiling point +Victor Dorn sent for David Hull—asked him to come to the Baker Avenue +cafe', which was the social headquarters of Dorn's Workingmen's League. +As Hull was rather counting on Dorn's support, or at least neutrality, +in the approaching contest, he accepted promptly. As he entered the +cafe' he saw Dorn seated at a table in a far corner listening calmly to +a man who was obviously angrily in earnest. At second glance he +recognized Tony Rivers, one of Dick Kelly's shrewdest lieutenants and a +labor leader of great influence in the unions of factory workers. +Among those in "the know" it was understood that Rivers could come +nearer to delivering the labor vote than any man in Remsen City. He +knew whom to corrupt with bribes and whom to entrap by subtle appeals +to ignorant prejudice. As a large part of his herd was intensely +Catholic, Rivers was a devout Catholic. To quote his own phrase, used +in a company on whose discretion he could count, "Many's the pair of +pants I've worn out doing the stations of the Cross." In fact, Rivers +had been brought up a Presbyterian, and under the name of Blake—his +correct name—had "done a stretch" in Joliet for picking pockets. +</P> + +<P> +Dorn caught sight of Davy Hull, hanging uncertainly in the offing. He +rose at once, said a few words in a quiet, emphatic way to +Rivers—words of conclusion and dismissal—and advanced to meet Hull. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't want to interrupt. I can wait," said Hull, who saw Rivers' +angry scowl at him. He did not wish to offend the great labor leader. +</P> + +<P> +"That fellow pushed himself on me," said Dorn. "I've nothing to say to +him." +</P> + +<P> +"Tony Rivers—wasn't it?" said Davy as they seated themselves at +another table. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm going to expose him in next week's New Day," replied Victor. +"When I sent him a copy of the article for his corrections, if he could +make any, he came threatening." +</P> + +<P> +"I've heard he's a dangerous man," said Davy. +</P> + +<P> +"He'll not be so dangerous after Saturday," replied Victor. "One by one +I'm putting the labor agents of your friends out of business. The best +ones—the chaps like Rivers—are hard to catch. And if I should attack +one of them before I had him dead to rights, I'd only strengthen him." +</P> + +<P> +"You think you can destroy Rivers' influence?" said Davy incredulously. +</P> + +<P> +"If I were not sure of it I'd not publish a line," said Victor. +</P> + +<P> +"But to get to the subject I wish to talk to you about. You are to be +the reform candidate for Mayor in the fall?" +</P> + +<P> +Davy looked important and self-conscious. "There has been some talk +of——" he began. +</P> + +<P> +"I've sent for you to ask you to withdraw from the movement, Hull," +interrupted Victor. +</P> + +<P> +Hull smiled. "And I've come to ask you to support it," said Hull. +"We'll win, anyhow. But I'd like to see all the forces against +corruption united in this campaign. I am even urging my people to put +one or two of your men on the ticket." +</P> + +<P> +"None of us would accept," said Victor. "That isn't our kind of +politics. We'll take nothing until we get everything.... What do you +know about this movement you're lending your name to?" +</P> + +<P> +"I organized it," said Hull proudly. +</P> + +<P> +"Pardon me—Dick Kelly organized it," replied Victor. "They're simply +using you, Davy, to play their rotten game. Kelly knew he was certain +to be beaten this fall. He doesn't care especially for that, because +House and his gang are just as much Kelly as Kelly himself. But he's +alarmed about the judgeship." +</P> + +<P> +Davy Hull reddened, though he tried hard to look indifferent. +</P> + +<P> +"He's given up hope of pulling through the scoundrel who's on the bench +now. He knows that our man would be elected, though his tool had the +support of the Republicans, the Democrats and the new reform crowd." +</P> + +<P> +Dorn had been watching Hull's embarrassed face keenly. He now said: +"You understand, I see, why Judge Freilig changed his mind and decided +that he must stop devoting himself to the public and think of the +welfare of his family and resume the practice of the law?" +</P> + +<P> +"Judge Freilig is an honorable gentleman," said Davy with much dignity. +"I'm sorry, Dorn, that you listen to the lies of demagogues." +</P> + +<P> +"If Freilig had persisted in running," said Victor, "I should have +published the list of stocks and bonds of corporations benefiting by +his decisions that his brother and his father have come into possession +of during his two terms on the bench. Many of our judges are simply +mentally crooked. But Freilig is a bribe taker. He probably believes +his decisions are just. All you fellows believe that upper-class rule +is really best for the people——" +</P> + +<P> +"And so it is," said Davy. "And you, an educated man, know it." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll not argue that now," said Victor. "As I was saying, while +Freilig decides for what he honestly thinks is right, he also feels he +is entitled to a share of the substantial benefits. Most of the judges, +after serving the upper class faithfully for years, retire to an old +age of comparative poverty. Freilig thinks that is foolish." +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose you agree with him," said Hull sarcastically. +</P> + +<P> +"I sympathize with him," said Victor. "He retires with reputation +unstained and with plenty of money. If I should publish the truth +about him, would he lose a single one of his friends? You know he +wouldn't. That isn't the way the world is run at present." +</P> + +<P> +"No doubt it would be run much better if your crowd were in charge," +sneered Hull. +</P> + +<P> +"On the contrary, much worse," replied Victor unruffled. "But we're +educating ourselves so that, when our time comes, we'll not do so +badly." +</P> + +<P> +"You'll have plenty of time for education," said Davy. +</P> + +<P> +"Plenty," said Victor. "But why are you angry? Because you realize +now that your reform candidate for judge is of Dick Kelly's selecting?" +</P> + +<P> +"Kelly didn't propose Hugo Galland," cried Davy hotly. "I proposed him +myself." +</P> + +<P> +"Was his the first name you proposed?" +</P> + +<P> +Something in Dorn's tone made Davy feel that it would be unwise to +yield to the impulse to tell a lie—for the highly moral purpose of +silencing this agitator and demagogue. +</P> + +<P> +"You will remember," pursued Victor, "that Galland was the sixth or +seventh name you proposed—and that Joe House rejected the others. He +did it, after consulting with Kelly. You recall—don't you?—that +every time you brought him a name he took time to consider?" +</P> + +<P> +"How do you know so much about all this?" cried Davy, his tone +suggesting that Victor was wholly mistaken, but his manner betraying +that he knew Victor was right. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, politicians are human," replied Dorn. "And the human race is +loose-mouthed. I saw years ago that if I was to build my party I must +have full and accurate information as to all that was going on. I made +my plans accordingly." +</P> + +<P> +"Galland is an honest man—rich—above suspicion—above corruption—an +ideal candidate," said Davy. +</P> + +<P> +"He is a corporation owner, a corporation lawyer—and a fool," said +Victor. "As I've told you, all Dick Kelly's interest in this fall's +local election is that judgeship." +</P> + +<P> +"Galland is my man. I want to see him elected. If Kelly's for +Galland, so much the better. Then we're sure of electing him—of +getting the right sort of a man on the bench." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not here to argue with you about politics, Davy," said Victor. "I +brought you here because I like you—believe in your honesty—and don't +want to see you humiliated. I'm giving you a chance to save yourself ." +</P> + +<P> +"From what?" inquired Hull, not so valiant as he pretended to be. +</P> + +<P> +"From the ridicule and disgrace that will cover this reform movement, +if you persist in it." +</P> + +<P> +Hull burst out laughing. "Of all the damned impudence!" he exclaimed. +"Dorn, I think you've gone crazy ." +</P> + +<P> +"You can't irritate me, Hull. I've been giving you the benefit of the +doubt. I think you are falling into the commonest kind of error—doing +evil and winking at evil in order that a good end may be gained. Now, +listen. What are the things you reformers are counting on to get you +votes this fall." +</P> + +<P> +Davy maintained a haughty silence. +</P> + +<P> +"The traction scandals, the gas scandals and the paving scandals—isn't +that it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Of course," said Davy. +</P> + +<P> +"Then—why have the gas crowd, the traction crowd and the paving crowd +each contributed twenty-five thousand dollars to your campaign fund?" +</P> + +<P> +Hull stared at Victor Dorn in amazement. "Who told you that lie?" he +blustered. +</P> + +<P> +Dorn looked at him sadly. "Then you knew? I hoped you didn't, Hull. +But—now that you're facing the situation squarely, don't you see that +you're being made a fool of? Would those people put up for your +election if they weren't SURE you and your crowd were THEIR crowd?" +</P> + +<P> +"They'll find out!" cried Hull. +</P> + +<P> +"You'll find out, you mean," replied Victor. "I see your whole +programme, Davy. They'll put you in, and they'll say, 'Let us alone +and we'll make you governor of the State. Annoy us, and you'll have no +political future.' And you'll say to yourself, 'The wise thing for me +to do is to wait until I'm governor before I begin to serve the people. +THEN I can really do something.' And so, you'll be THEIR mayor—and +afterward THEIR governor—because they'll hold out another inducement. +Anyhow, by that time you'll be so completely theirs that you'll have no +hope of a career except through them." +</P> + +<P> +After reading how some famous oration wrought upon its audience we turn +to it and wonder that such tempests of emotion could have been produced +by such simple, perhaps almost commonplace words. The key to the +mystery is usually a magic quality in the tone of the orator, evoking +before its hypnotized hearers a series of vivid pictures, just as the +notes of a violin, with no aid from words or even from musical form +seem to materialize into visions. +</P> + +<P> +This uncommon yet by no means rare power was in Victor Dorn's voice, +and explained his extraordinary influence over people of all kinds and +classes; it wove a spell that enmeshed even those who disliked him for +his detestable views. Davy Hull, listening to Victor's simple recital +of his prospective career, was so wrought upon that he sat staring +before him in a kind of terror. +</P> + +<P> +"Davy," said Victor gently, "you're at the parting of the ways. The +time for honest halfway reformers—for political amateurs has passed. +'Under which king, Bezonian? Speak or die!'—that's the situation +today." +</P> + +<P> +And Hull knew that it was so. "What do you propose, Dorn?" he said. +"I want to do what's right—what's best for the people." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't worry about the people, Hull," said Victor. +</P> + +<P> +"Upper classes come and pass, but the people remain—bigger and +stronger and more aggressive with every century. And they dictate +language and art, and politics and religion—what we shall all eat and +wear and think and do. Only what they approve, only that yoke even +which they themselves accept, has any chance of enduring. Don't worry +about the people, Davy. Worry about yourself." +</P> + +<P> +"I admit," said Hull, "that I don't like a lot of things about the—the +forces I find I've got to use in order to carry through my plans. I +admit that even the sincere young fellows I've grouped together to head +this movement are narrow—supercilious—self-satisfied—that they +irritate me and are not trustworthy. But I feel that, if I once get +the office, I'll be strong enough to put my plans through." Nervously, +"I'm giving you my full confidence—as I've given it to no one else." +</P> + +<P> +"You've told me nothing I didn't know already," said Victor. +</P> + +<P> +"I've got to choose between this reform party and your party," +continued Hull. "That is, I've got no choice. For, candidly, I've no +confidence in the working class. It's too ignorant to do the ruling. +It's too credulous to build on—for its credulity makes it fickle. And +I believe in the better class, too. It may be sordid and greedy and +tyrannical, but by appealing to its good instincts—and to its fear of +the money kings and the monopolists, something good can be got through +it." +</P> + +<P> +"If you want to get office," said Dorn, "you're right. But if you want +to BE somebody, if you want to develop yourself, to have the joy of +being utterly unafraid in speech and in action—why, come with us." +</P> + +<P> +After a pause Hull said, "I'd like to do it. I'd like to help you." +</P> + +<P> +Victor laid his hand on Davy's arm. "Get it straight, Davy," he said. +"You can't help us. We don't need you. It's you that needs us. We'll +make an honest man of you—instead of a trimming politician, trying to +say or to do something more or less honest once in a while and winking +at or abetting crookedness most of the time." +</P> + +<P> +"I've done nothing, and I'll do nothing, to be ashamed of," protested +Hull. +</P> + +<P> +"You are not ashamed of the way your movement is financed?" +</P> + +<P> +Davy moved uncomfortably. "The money's ours now," said he. "They gave +it unconditionally." +</P> + +<P> +But he could not meet Victor's eyes. Victor said: "They paid a +hundred thousand dollars for a judgeship and for a blanket mortgage on +your party. And if you should win, you'd find you could do little +showy things that were of no value, but nothing that would seriously +disturb a single leech sucking the blood of this community." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't agree with you," said Davy. He roused himself into anger—his +only remaining refuge. "Your prejudices blind you to all the +means—the PRACTICAL means—of doing good, Dorn. I've listened +patiently to you because I respect your sincerity. But I'm not going +to waste my life in mere criticism. I'm going to DO something." +</P> + +<P> +An expression of profound sadness came into Victor's face. "Don't +decide now," he said. "Think it over. Remember what I've told you +about what we'll be compelled to do if you launch this party." +</P> + +<P> +Hull was tempted to burst out violently. Was not this swollen-headed +upstart trying to intimidate him by threats? But his strong instinct +for prudence persuaded him to conceal his resentment. "Why the devil +should you attack US?" he demanded. +</P> + +<P> +"Surely we're nearer your kind of thing than the old parties—and we, +too, are against them—their rotten machines." +</P> + +<P> +"We purpose to keep the issue clear in this town," replied Victor. +"So, we can't allow a party to grow up that PRETENDS to be just as good +as ours but is really a cover behind which the old parties we've been +battering to pieces can reorganize." +</P> + +<P> +"That is, you'll tolerate in this market no brand of honest politics +but your own?" +</P> + +<P> +"If you wish to put it that way," replied Victor coolly. +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose you'd rather see Kelly or House win?" +</P> + +<P> +"We'll see that House does win," replied Victor. "When we have shot +your movement full of holes and sunk it, House will put up a straight +Democratic ticket, and it will win." +</P> + +<P> +"And House means Kelly—and Kelly means corruption rampant." +</P> + +<P> +"And corruption rampant means further and much needed education in the +school of hard experience for the voters," said Dorn. "And the more +education, the larger our party and the quicker its triumph." +</P> + +<P> +Hull laughed angrily. "Talk about low self-seeking! Talk about rotten +practical politics!" +</P> + +<P> +But Dorn held his good humor of the man who has the power and knows it. +"Think it over, Davy," counseled he. "You'll see you've got to come +with us or join Kelly. For your own sake I'd like to see you with us. +For the party's sake you'd better be with Kelly, for you're not really +a workingman, and our fellows would be uneasy about you for a long +time. You see, we've had experience of rich young men whose hearts +beat for the wrongs of the working class—and that experience has not +been fortunate." +</P> + +<P> +"Before you definitely decide to break with the decent element of the +better class, Victor, I want YOU to think it over," said Davy. "We—I, +myself—have befriended you more than once. But for a few of us who +still have hope that demagoguery will die of itself, your paper would +have been suppressed long ago." +</P> + +<P> +Victor laughed. "I wish they would suppress it," said he. "The result +would give the 'better element' in this town a very bad quarter of an +hour, at least." He rose. "We've both said all we've got to say to +each other. I see I've done no good. I feared it would be so." He +was looking into Hull's eyes—into his very soul. "When we meet again, +you will probably be my open and bitter enemy. It's a pity. It makes +me sad. Good-by, and—do think it over, Davy." +</P> + +<P> +Dorn moved rapidly away. Hull looked after him in surprise. At first +blush he was astonished that Dorn should care so much about him as this +curious interview and his emotion at its end indicated. But on +reflecting his astonishment disappeared, and he took the view that Dorn +was simply impressed by his personality and by his ability—was perhaps +craftily trying to disarm him and to destroy his political movement +which was threatening to destroy the Workingmen's League. "A very +shrewd chap is Dorn," thought Davy—why do we always generously concede +at least acumen to those we suspect of having a good opinion of us?—"A +VERY shrewd chap. It's unfortunate he's cursed with that miserable +envy of those better born and better off than he is." +</P> + +<P> +Davy spent the early evening at the University Club, where he was an +important figure. Later on he went to a dance at Mrs. Venable's—and +there he was indeed a lion, as an unmarried man with money cannot but +be in a company of ladies—for money to a lady is what soil and sun and +rain are to a flower—is that without which she must cease to exist. +But still later, when he was alone in bed—perhaps with the supper he +ate at Mrs. Venable's not sitting as lightly as comfort required—the +things Victor Dorn had said came trailing drearily through his mind. +What kind of an article would Dorn print? Those facts about the +campaign fund certainly would look badly in cold type—especially if +Dorn had the proofs. And Hugo Galland— Beyond question the mere list +of the corporations in which Hugo was director or large stockholder +would make him absurd as a judge, sitting in that district. And Hugo +the son-in-law of the most offensive capitalist in that section of the +State! And the deal with House, endorsed by Kelly—how nasty that +would look, IF Victor had the proofs. IF Victor had the proofs. But +had he? +</P> + +<P> +"I MUST have a talk with Kelly," said Davy, aloud. +</P> + +<P> +The words startled him—not his voice suddenly sounding in the profound +stillness of his bedroom, but the words themselves. It was his first +admission to himself of the vicious truth he had known from the outset +and had been pretending to himself that he did not know—the truth that +his reform movement was a fraud contrived by Dick Kelly to further the +interests of the company of financiers and the gang of +politico-criminal thugs who owned the party machinery. It is a nice +question whether a man is ever allowed to go in HONEST self-deception +decisively far along a wrong road. However this may be, certain it is +that David Hull, reformer, was not so allowed. And he was glad of the +darkness that hid him at least physically from himself as he strove to +convince himself that, if he was doing wrong, it was from the highest +motives and for the noblest purposes and would result in the public +good—and not merely in fame and office for David Hull. +</P> + +<P> +The struggle ended as struggles usually end in the famous arena of +moral sham battles called conscience; and toward the middle of the +following morning Davy, at peace with himself and prepared to make any +sacrifice of personal squeamishness or moral idealism for the sake of +the public good, sought out Dick Kelly. +</P> + +<P> +Kelly's original headquarters had, of course, been the doggery in and +through which he had established himself as a political power. As his +power grew and his relations with more respectable elements of society +extended he shifted to a saloon and beer garden kept by a reputable +German and frequented by all kinds of people—a place where his friends +of the avowedly criminal class and his newer friends of the class that +does nothing legally criminal, except in emergencies, would feel +equally at ease. He retained ownership of the doggery, but took his +name down and put up that of his barkeeper. When he won his first big +political fight and took charge of the public affairs of Remsen City +and made an arrangement with Joe House where—under Remsen City, +whenever it wearied or sickened of Kelly, could take instead Kelly +disguised as Joe House—when he thus became a full blown boss he +established a secondary headquarters in addition to that at Herrmann's +Garden. Every morning at ten o'clock he took his stand in the main +corridor of the City Hall, really a thoroughfare and short cut for the +busiest part of town. With a cigar in his mouth he stood there for an +hour or so, holding court, making appointments, attending to all sorts +of political business. +</P> + +<P> +Presently his importance and his ideas of etiquette expanded to such an +extent that he had to establish the Blaine Club. Joe House's Tilden +Club was established two years later, in imitation of Kelly. If you +had very private and important business with Kelly—business of the +kind of which the public must get no inkling, you made—preferably by +telephone—an appointment to meet him in his real estate offices in the +Hastings Building—a suite with entrances and exits into three +separated corridors. If you wished to see him about ordinary matters +and were a person who could "confer" with Kelly without its causing +talk you met him at the Blaine Club. If you wished to cultivate him, +to pay court to him, you saw him at Herrmann's—or in the general rooms +of the club. If you were a busy man and had time only to exchange +greetings with him—to "keep in touch"—you passed through the City +Hall now and then at his hour. Some bosses soon grow too proud for the +vulgar democracy of such a public stand; but Kelly, partly through +shrewdness, partly through inclination, clung to the City Hall stand +and encouraged the humblest citizens to seek him there and tell him the +news or ask his aid or his advice. +</P> + +<P> +It was at the City Hall that Davy Hull sought him, and found him. +</P> + +<P> +Twice he walked briskly to the boss; the third time he went by slowly. +Kelly, who saw everything, had known from the first glance at Hull's +grave, anxious face, that the young leader of the "holy boys" was there +to see him. But he ignored Davy until Davy addressed him directly. +</P> + +<P> +"Howdy, Mr. Hull!" said he, observing the young man with eyes that +twinkled cynically. "What's the good word?" +</P> + +<P> +"I want to have a little talk with you," Davy blurted out. "Where could +I see you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Here I am," said Kelly. "Talk away." +</P> + +<P> +"Couldn't I see you at some—some place where we'd not be interrupted? +I saw Victor Dorn yesterday, and he said some things that I think you +ought to know about." +</P> + +<P> +"I do know about 'em," replied Kelly. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you sure? I mean his threats to—to——" +</P> + +<P> +As Davy paused in an embarrassed search for a word that would not hurt +his own but recently soothed conscience, Kelly laughed. "To expose you +holy boys?" inquired he. "To upset the nice moral campaign you and Joe +House have laid out? Yes, I know all about Mr. Victor Dorn. But—Joe +House is the man you want to see. You boys are trying to do me +up—trying to break up the party. You can't expect ME to help you. +I've got great respect for you personally, Mr. Hull. Your father—he +was a fine old Republican wheel-horse. He stood by the party through +thick and thin—and the party stood by him. So, I respect his +son—personally. But politically—that's another matter. Politically I +respect straight organization men of either party, but I've got no use +for amateurs and reformers. So—go to Joe House." All this in perfect +good humor, and in a tone of banter that might have ruffled a man with +a keener sense of humor than Davy's. +</P> + +<P> +Davy was red to his eyes, not because Kelly was laughing at him, but +because he stood convicted of such a stupid political blunder as coming +direct to Kelly when obviously he should have gone to Kelly's secret +partner. "Dorn means to attack us all—Republicans, Democrats and +Citizens' Alliance," stammered Davy, trying to justify himself. +</P> + +<P> +Kelly shifted his cigar and shrugged his shoulders. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't worry about his attacks on me—on US," said he. "We're used to +being attacked. We haven't got no reputation for superior virtue to +lose." +</P> + +<P> +"But he says he can prove that our whole campaign is simply a deal +between you and House and me to fool the people and elect a bad judge." +</P> + +<P> +"So I've heard," said Kelly. "But what of it? You know it ain't so." +</P> + +<P> +"No, I don't, Mr. Kelly," replied Hull, desperately. "On the contrary, +I think it is so. And I may add I think we are justified in making +such a deal, when that's the only way to save the community from Victor +Dorn and his crowd of—of anarchists." +</P> + +<P> +Kelly looked at him silently with amused eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"House can't do anything," pursued Davy. "Maybe YOU can. So I came +straight to you." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm glad you're getting a little political sense, my boy," said Kelly. +"Perhaps you're beginning to see that a politician has got to be +practical—that it's the organizations that keeps this city from being +the prey to Victor Dorns." +</P> + +<P> +"I see that," said Davy. "I'm willing to admit that I've misjudged +you, Mr. Kelly—that the better classes owe you a heavy debt—and that +you are one of the men we've got to rely on chiefly to stem the tide of +anarchy that's rising—the attack on the propertied classes—the +intelligent classes." +</P> + +<P> +"I see your eyes are being opened, my boy," said Kelly in a kindly tone +that showed how deeply he appreciated this unexpected recognition of +his own notion of his mission. "You young silk stocking fellows up at +the University Club, and the Lincoln and the Jefferson, have been +indulging in a lot of loose talk against the fellows that do the hard +work in politics—the fellows that helped your fathers to make fortunes +and that are helping you boys to keep 'em. If I didn't have a pretty +level head on me, I'd take my hands off and give Dorn and his gang a +chance at you. I tell you, when you fool with that reform nonsense, you +play with fire in a powder mill." +</P> + +<P> +"But I—I had an idea that you wanted me to go ahead," said Davy. +</P> + +<P> +"Not the way you started last spring," replied Kelly. "Not the way +you'd 'a gone if I hadn't taken hold. I've been saving you in spite of +yourselves. Thanks to me, your party's on a sound, conservative basis +and won't do any harm and may do some good in teaching a lesson to +those of our boys that've been going a little too far. It ain't good +for an organization to win always." +</P> + +<P> +"Victor Dorn seemed to be sure—absolutely sure," said Hull. "And he's +pretty shrewd at politics—isn't he?" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't worry about him, I tell you," replied Kelly. +</P> + +<P> +The sudden hardening of his voice and of his never notably soft face +was tribute stronger than any words to Dorn's ability as a politician, +to his power as an antagonist. Davy felt a sinister intent—and he +knew that Dick Kelly had risen because he would stop at nothing. He +was as eager to get away from the boss as the boss was to be rid of +him. The intrusion of a henchman, to whom Kelly had no doubt signaled, +gave him the excuse. As soon as he had turned from the City Hall into +Morton Street he slackened to as slow a walk as his length of leg would +permit. Moving along, absorbed in uncomfortable thoughts, he startled +violently when he heard Selma Gordon's voice: +</P> + +<P> +"How d'you do, Mr. Hull? I was hoping I'd see you to-day." +</P> + +<P> +She was standing before him—the same fascinating embodiment of life +and health and untamed energy; the direct, honest glance. +</P> + +<P> +"I want to talk to you," she went on, "and I can't, walking beside you. +You're far too tall. Come into the park and we'll sit on that bench +under the big maple." +</P> + +<P> +He had mechanically lifted his hat, but he had not spoken. He did not +find words until they were seated side by side, and then all he could +say was: +</P> + +<P> +"I'm very glad to see you again—very glad, indeed." +</P> + +<P> +In fact, he was the reverse of glad, for he was afraid of her, afraid +of himself when under the spell of her presence. He who prided himself +on his self-control, he could not account for the effect this girl had +upon him. As he sat there beside her the impulse Jane Hastings had so +adroitly checked came surging back. He had believed, had hoped it was +gone for good and all. He found that in its mysterious hiding place it +had been gaining strength. Quite clearly he saw how absurd was the +idea of making this girl his wife—he tall and she not much above the +bend of his elbow; he conventional, and she the incarnation of +passionate revolt against the restraints of class and form and custom +which he not only conformed to but religiously believed in. And she +set stirring in him all kinds of vague, wild longings to run amuck +socially and politically—longings that, if indulged, would ruin him +for any career worthy of the name. +</P> + +<P> +He stood up. "I must go—I really must," he said, confusedly. +</P> + +<P> +She laid her small, strong hand on his arm—a natural, friendly gesture +with her, and giving no suggestion of familiarity. Even as she was +saying, "Please—only a moment," he dropped back to the seat. +</P> + +<P> +"Well—what is it?" he said abruptly, his gaze resolutely away from her +face. +</P> + +<P> +"Victor was telling me this morning about his talk with you," she said +in her rapid, energetic way. "He was depressed because he had failed. +But I felt sure—I feel sure—that he hasn't. In our talk the other +day, Mr. Hull, I got a clear idea of your character. A woman +understands better. And I know that, after Victor told you the plain +truth about the situation, you couldn't go on." +</P> + +<P> +David looked round rather wildly, swallowed hard several times, said +hoarsely: "I won't, if you'll marry me." +</P> + +<P> +But for a slight change of expression or of color Davy would have +thought she had not heard—or perhaps that he had imagined he was +uttering the words that forced themselves to his lips in spite of his +efforts to suppress them. For she went on in the same impetuous, +friendly way: +</P> + +<P> +"It seemed to me that you have an instinct for the right that's unusual +in men of your class. At least, I think it's unusual. I confess I've +not known any man of your class except you—and I know you very +slightly. It was I that persuaded Victor to go to you. He believes +that a man's class feeling controls him—makes his moral sense—compels +his actions. But I thought you were an exception—and he yielded after +I urged him a while." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know WHAT I am," said Hull gloomily. "I think I want to do +right. But—what is right? Not theoretical right, but the practical, +workable thing?" +</P> + +<P> +"That's true," conceded Selma. "We can't always be certain what's +right. But can't we always know what's wrong? And, Mr. Hull, it is +wrong—altogether wrong—and YOU know it's wrong—to lend your name and +your influence and your reputation to that crowd. They'd let you do a +little good—why? To make their professions of reform seem plausible. +To fool the people into trusting them again. And under cover of the +little good you were showily doing, how much mischief they'd do! If +you'll go back over the history of this town—of any town—of any +country—you'll find that most of the wicked things—the things that +pile the burdens on the shoulders of the poor—the masses—most of the +wicked things have been done under cover of just such men as you, used +as figureheads." +</P> + +<P> +"But I want to build up a new party—a party of honest men, honestly +led," said Davy. +</P> + +<P> +"Led by your sort of young men? I mean young men of your class. Led by +young lawyers and merchants and young fellows living on inherited +incomes? Don't you see that's impossible," cried Selma. "They are all +living off the labor of others. Their whole idea of life is exploiting +the masses—is reaping where they have not sown or reaping not only +what they've sown but also what others have sown—for they couldn't buy +luxury and all the so-called refinements of life for themselves and +their idle families merely with what they themselves could earn. How +can you build up a really HONEST party with such men? They may mean +well. They no doubt are honest, up to a certain point. But they will +side with their class, in every crisis. And their class is the +exploiting class." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't agree with you," said Davy. "You are not fair to us." +</P> + +<P> +"How!" demanded Selma. +</P> + +<P> +"I couldn't argue with you," replied Hull. "All I'll say is that +you've seen only the one side—only the side of the working class." +</P> + +<P> +"That toils without ceasing—its men, its women, its children—" said +the girl with heaving bosom and flashing eyes—"only to have most of +what it earns filched away from it by your class to waste in foolish +luxury!" +</P> + +<P> +"And whose fault is that?" pleaded Hull. +</P> + +<P> +"The fault of my class," replied she. "Their ignorance, their +stupidity—yes, and their foolish cunning that overreaches itself. For +they tolerate the abuses of the present system because each man—at +least, each man of the ones who think themselves 'smart'—imagines that +the day is coming when he can escape from the working class and gain +the ranks of the despoilers." +</P> + +<P> +"And you ask ME to come into the party of those people!" scoffed Davy. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, Mr. Hull," said she—and until then he had not appreciated how +lovely her voice was. "Yes—that is the party for you—for all honest, +sincere men who want to have their own respect through and through. To +teach those people—to lead them right—to be truthful and just with +them—that is the life worth while." +</P> + +<P> +"But they won't learn. They won't be led right. They are as +ungrateful as they are foolish. If they weren't, men like me trying to +make a decent career wouldn't have to compromise with the Kellys and +the Houses and their masters. What are Kelly and House but leaders of +your class? And they lead ten to Victor Dorn's one. Why, any day +Dorn's followers may turn on him—and you know it." +</P> + +<P> +"And what of that?" cried Selma. "He's not working to be their leader, +but to do what he thinks is right, regardless of consequences. Why is +he a happy man, as happiness goes? Why has he gone on his way steadily +all these years, never minding setbacks and failures and defeats and +dangers? I needn't tell you why." +</P> + +<P> +"No," said Hull, powerfully moved by her earnestness. "I understand." +</P> + +<P> +"The finest sentence that ever fell from human lips," Selma went on, +"was 'Father, forgive them; they know not what they do.' Forgive +them—forgive us all—for when we go astray it is because we are in the +dark. And I want you to come with us, Mr. Hull, and help to make it a +little less dark. At least, you will then be looking toward the +light—and every one turned in that direction counts." +</P> + +<P> +After a long pause, Hull said: +</P> + +<P> +"Miss Gordon, may I ask you a very personal question?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said she. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you in love with Victor Dorn?" +</P> + +<P> +Selma laughed merrily. "Jane Hastings had that same curiosity," said +she. "I'll answer you as I answered her—though she didn't ask me +quite so directly. No, I am not in love with him. We are too busy to +bother about those things. We have too much to do to think about +ourselves." +</P> + +<P> +"Then—there is no reason why I should not ask you to be my wife—why I +should not hope—and try?" +</P> + +<P> +She looked at him with a peculiar smile. "Yes, there is a very good +reason. I do not love you, and I shall not love you. I shall not have +time for that sort of thing." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you believe in love?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't believe in much else," said she. "But—not the kind of love +you offer me." +</P> + +<P> +"How do you know?" cried he. "I have not told you yet how I feel +toward you. I have not——" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yes, you have," interrupted she. "This is the second—no, the +third time you have seen me. So, the love you offer me can only be of +a kind it is not in the least flattering to a woman to inspire. You +needn't apologize," she went on, laughingly. "I've no doubt you mean +well. You simply don't understand me—my sort of woman." +</P> + +<P> +"It's you that don't understand, Selma," cried he. "You don't realize +how wonderful you are—how much you reveal of yourself at once. I was +all but engaged to another woman when I saw you. I've been fighting +against my love for you—fighting against the truth that suddenly came +to me that you were the only woman I had ever seen who appealed to and +aroused and made strong all that is brave and honest in me. Selma, I +need you. I am not infatuated. I am clearer-headed than I ever was in +my life. I need you. You can make a man of me." +</P> + +<P> +She was regarding him with a friendly and even tender sympathy. "I +understand now," she said. "I thought it was simply the ordinary +outburst of passion. But I see that it was the result of your struggle +with yourself about which road to take in making a career." +</P> + +<P> +If she had not been absorbed in developing her theory she might have +seen that Davy was not altogether satisfied with this analysis of his +feelings. But he deemed it wise to hold his peace. +</P> + +<P> +"You do need some one—some woman," she went on. "And I am anxious to +help you all I can. I couldn't help you by marrying you. To me +marriage means——" She checked herself abruptly. "No matter. I can +help you, I think, as a friend. But if you wish to marry, you should +take some one in your own class—some one who's in sympathy with you. +Then you and she could work it out together—could help each other. +You see, I don't need you—and there's nothing in one-sided +marriages.... No, you couldn't give me anything I need, so far as I +can see." +</P> + +<P> +"I believe that's true," said Davy miserably. +</P> + +<P> +She reflected, then continued: "But there's Jane Hastings. Why not +marry her? She is having the same sort of struggle with herself. You +and she could help each other. And you're, both of you, fine +characters. I like each of you for exactly the same reasons.... +Yes—Jane needs you, and you need her." She looked at him with her +sweet, frank smile like a breeze straight from the sweep of a vast +plateau. "Why, it's so obvious that I wonder you and she haven't +become engaged long ago. You ARE fond of her, aren't you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Selma," cried Davy, "I LOVE you. I want YOU." +</P> + +<P> +She shook her head with a quaint, fascinating expression of +positiveness. "Now, my friend," said she, "drop that fancy. It isn't +sensible. And it threatens to become silly." Her smile suddenly +expanded into a laugh. "The idea of you and me married—of ME married +to YOU! I'd drive you crazy. No, I shouldn't stay long enough for +that. I'd be of on the wings of the wind to the other end of the earth +as soon as you tried to put a halter on me." +</P> + +<P> +He did not join in her laugh. She rose. "You will think again before +you go in with those people—won't you, David?" she said, sober and +earnest. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't care what becomes of me," he said boyishly. +</P> + +<P> +"But <I>I</I> do," she said. "I want to see you the man you can be." +</P> + +<P> +"Then—marry me," he cried. +</P> + +<P> +Her eyes looked gentle friendship; her passionate lips curled in scorn. +"I might marry the sort of man you could be," she said, "but I never +could marry a man so weak that, without me to bolster him up, he'd +become a stool-pigeon." +</P> + +<P> +And she turned and walked away. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap05"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +V. +</H3> + +<P> +A few days later, after she had taken her daily two hours' walk, Selma +went into the secluded part of Washington Park and spent the rest of +the morning writing. Her walk was her habitual time for thinking out +her plans for the day. And when it was writing that she had to do, and +the weather was fine, that particular hillside with its splendid shade +so restful for the eyes and so stimulating to the mind became her +work-shop. She thought that she was helped as much by the colors of +grass and foliage as by the softened light and the tranquil view out +over hills and valleys. +</P> + +<P> +When she had finished her article she consulted the little nickel watch +she carried in her bag and discovered that it was only one o'clock. +She had counted on getting through at three or half past. Two hours +gained. How could she best use them. The part of the Park where she +was sitting was separated from the Hastings grounds only by the winding +highroad making its last reach for the top of the hill. She decided +that she would go to see Jane Hastings—would try to make tactful +progress in her project of helping Jane and David Hull by marrying them +to each other. Once she had hit upon this project her interest in both +of them had equally increased. Yes, these gained two hours was an +opportunity not to be neglected. +</P> + +<P> +She put her papers into her shopping bag and went straight up the steep +hill. She arrived at the top, at the edge of the lawn before Jane's +house, with somewhat heightened color and brightened eyes, but with no +quickening of the breath. Her slim, solid little body had all the +qualities of endurance of those wiry ponies that come from the regions +her face and walk and the careless grace of her hair so delightfully +suggested. As she advanced toward the house she saw a gay company +assembled on the wide veranda. Jane was giving a farewell luncheon for +her visitors, had asked almost a dozen of the most presentable girls in +the town. It was a very fashionable affair, and everyone had dressed +for it in the best she had to wear at that time of day. +</P> + +<P> +Selma saw the company while there was still time for her to draw back +and descend into the woods. But she knew little about +conventionalities, and she cared not at all about them. She had come +to see Jane; she conducted herself precisely as she would have expected +any one to act who came to see her at any time. She marched straight +across the lawn. The hostess, the fashionable visitors, the +fashionable guests soon centered upon the extraordinary figure moving +toward them under that blazing sun. The figure was extraordinary not +for dress—the dress was plain and unconspicuous—but for that +expression of the free and the untamed, the lack of self-consciousness +so rarely seen except in children and animals. Jane rushed to the +steps to welcome her, seized her extended hands and kissed her with as +much enthusiasm as she kissed Jane. There was sincerity in this +greeting of Jane's; but there was pose, also. Here was one of those +chances to do the unconventional, the democratic thing. +</P> + +<P> +"What a glorious surprise!" cried Jane. "You'll stop for lunch, of +course?" Then to the girls nearest them: "This is Selma Gordon, who +writes for the New Day." +</P> + +<P> +Pronouncing of names—smiles—bows—veiled glances of +curiosity—several young women exchanging whispered comments of +amusement. And to be sure, Selma, in that simple costume, gloveless, +with dusty shoes and blown hair, did look very much out of place. But +then Selma would have looked, in a sense, out of place anywhere but in +a wilderness with perhaps a few tents and a half-tamed herd as +background. In another sense, she seemed in place anywhere as any +natural object must. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't eat lunch," said Selma. "But I'll stay if you'll put me next +to you and let me talk to you." +</P> + +<P> +She did not realize what an upsetting of order and precedence this +request, which seemed so simple to her, involved. Jane hesitated, but +only for a fraction of a second. "Why, certainly," said she. "Now +that I've got you I'd not let you go in any circumstances." +</P> + +<P> +Selma was gazing around at the other girls with the frank and pleased +curiosity of a child. "Gracious, what pretty clothes!" she cried—she +was addressing Miss Clearwater, of Cincinnati. "I've read about this +sort of thing in novels and in society columns of newspapers. But I +never saw it before. ISN'T it interesting!" +</P> + +<P> +Miss Clearwater, whose father was a United States Senator—by +purchase—had had experience of many oddities, male and female. She +also was attracted by Selma's sparkling delight, and by the magnetic +charm which she irradiated as a rose its perfume. "Pretty clothes are +attractive, aren't they?" said she, to be saying something. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know a thing about clothes," confessed Selma. "I've never +owned at the same time more than two dresses fit to wear—usually only +one. And quite enough for me. I'd only be fretted by a lot of things +of that kind. But I like to see them on other people. If I had my way +the whole world would be well dressed." +</P> + +<P> +"Except you?" said Ellen Clearwater with a smile. +</P> + +<P> +"I couldn't be well dressed if I tried," replied Selma. "When I was a +child I was the despair of my mother. Most of the people in the +tenement where we lived were very dirty and disorderly—naturally +enough, as they had no knowledge and no money and no time. But mother +had ideas of neatness and cleanliness, and she used to try to keep me +looking decent. But it was of no use. Ten minutes after she had +smoothed me down I was flying every which way again." +</P> + +<P> +"You were brought up in a tenement?" said Miss Clearwater. Several of +the girls within hearing were blushing for Selma and were feeling how +distressed Jane Hastings must be. +</P> + +<P> +"I had a wonderfully happy childhood," replied Selma. "Until I was old +enough to understand and to suffer. I've lived in tenements all my +life—among very poor people. I'd not feel at home anywhere else." +</P> + +<P> +"When I was born," said Miss Clearwater, "we lived in a log cabin up in +the mining district of Michigan." +</P> + +<P> +Selma showed the astonishment the other girls were feeling. But while +their astonishment was in part at a girl of Ellen Clearwater's position +making such a degrading confession, hers had none of that element in +it. "You don't in the least suggest a log cabin or poverty of any +kind," said she. "I supposed you had always been rich and beautifully +dressed." +</P> + +<P> +"No, indeed," replied Ellen. She gazed calmly round at the other girls +who were listening. "I doubt if any of us here was born to what you +see. Of course we—some of us—make pretenses—all sorts of silly +pretenses. But as a matter of fact there isn't one of us who hasn't +near relatives in the cabins or the tenements at this very moment." +</P> + +<P> +There was a hasty turning away from this dangerous conversation. Jane +came back from ordering the rearrangement of her luncheon table. Said +Selma: +</P> + +<P> +"I'd like to wash my hands, and smooth my hair a little." +</P> + +<P> +"You take her up, Ellen," said Jane. "And hurry. We'll be in the +dining-room when you come down." +</P> + +<P> +Selma's eyes were wide and roving as she and Ellen went through the +drawing-room, the hall, up stairs and into the very prettily furnished +suite which Ellen was occupying. "I never saw anything like this +before!" exclaimed Selma. "It's the first time I was ever in a grand +house. This is a grand house, isn't it?" +</P> + +<P> +"No—it's only comfortable," replied Ellen. "Mr. Hastings—and Jane, +too, don't go in for grandeur." +</P> + +<P> +"How beautiful everything is—and how convenient!" exclaimed Selma. "I +haven't felt this way since the first time I went to the circus." She +pointed to a rack from which were suspended thin silk dressing gowns of +various rather gay patterns. "What are those?" she inquired. +</P> + +<P> +"Dressing gowns," said Ellen. "Just to wear round while one is +dressing or undressing." +</P> + +<P> +Selma advanced and felt and examined them. "But why so many?" she +inquired. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, foolishness," said Ellen. "Indulgence! To suit different moods." +</P> + +<P> +"Lovely," murmured Selma. "Lovely!" +</P> + +<P> +"I suspect you of a secret fondness for luxury," said Ellen slyly. +</P> + +<P> +Selma laughed. "What would I do with such things?" she inquired. +"Why, I'd have no time to wear them. I'd never dare put on anything so +delicate." +</P> + +<P> +She roamed through dressing-room, bedroom, bath-room, marveling, +inquiring, admiring. "I'm so glad I came," said she. "This will give +me a fresh point of view. I can understand the people of your class +better, and be more tolerant about them. I understand now why they are +so hard and so indifferent. They're quite removed from the common lot. +They don't realize; they can't. How narrow it must make one to have +one's life filled with these pretty little things for luxury and show. +Why, if I lived this life, I'd cease to be human after a short time." +</P> + +<P> +Ellen was silent. +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't mean to say anything rude or offensive," said Selma, +sensitive to the faintest impressions. "I was speaking my thoughts +aloud.... Do you know David Hull?" +</P> + +<P> +"The young reformer?" said Ellen with a queer little smile. "Yes—quite +well." +</P> + +<P> +"Does he live like this?" +</P> + +<P> +"Rather more grandly," said Ellen. +</P> + +<P> +Selma shook her head. A depressed expression settled upon her +features. "It's useless," she said. "He couldn't possibly become a +man." +</P> + +<P> +Ellen laughed. "You must hurry," she said. "We're keeping everyone +waiting." +</P> + +<P> +As Selma was making a few passes at her rebellious thick hair—passes +the like of which Miss Clearwater had never before seen—she explained: +</P> + +<P> +"I've been somewhat interested in David Hull of late—have been hoping +he could graduate from a fake reformer into a useful citizen. But—" +She looked round expressively at the luxury surrounding them—"one +might as well try to grow wheat in sand." +</P> + +<P> +"Davy is a fine fraud," said Ellen. "Fine—because he doesn't in the +least realize that he's a fraud." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm afraid he is a fraud," said Selma setting on her hat again. "What +a pity? He might have been a man, if he'd been brought up properly." +She gazed at Ellen with sad, shining eyes. "How many men and women +luxury blights!" she cried. +</P> + +<P> +"It certainly has done for Davy," said Ellen lightly. "He'll never be +anything but a respectable fraud." +</P> + +<P> +"Why do YOU think so?" Selma inquired. +</P> + +<P> +"My father is a public man," Miss Clearwater explained. "And I've seen +a great deal of these reformers. They're the ordinary human variety of +politician plus a more or less conscious hypocrisy. Usually they're +men who fancy themselves superior to the common run in birth and +breeding. My father has taught me to size them up." +</P> + +<P> +They went down, and Selma, seated between Jane and Miss Clearwater, +amused both with her frank comments on the scene so strange to her—the +beautiful table, the costly service, the variety and profusion of +elaborate food. In fact, Jane, reaching out after the effects got +easily in Europe and almost as easily in the East, but overtaxed the +resources of the household which she was only beginning to get into +what she regarded as satisfactory order. The luncheon, therefore, was +a creditable and promising attempt rather than a success, from the +standpoint of fashion. Jane was a little ashamed, and at times +extremely nervous—this when she saw signs of her staff falling into +disorder that might end in rout. But Selma saw none of the defects. +She was delighted with the dazzling spectacle—for two or three +courses. Then she lapsed into quiet and could not be roused to speak. +</P> + +<P> +Jane and Ellen thought she was overwhelmed and had been seized of +shyness in this company so superior to any in which she had ever found +herself. Ellen tried to induce her to eat, and, failing, decided that +her refraining was not so much firmness in the two meals-a-day system +as fear of making a "break." She felt genuinely sorry for the silent +girl growing moment by moment more ill-at-ease. When the luncheon was +about half over Selma said abruptly to Jane: +</P> + +<P> +"I must go now. I've stayed longer than I should." +</P> + +<P> +"Go?" cried Jane. "Why, we haven't begun to talk yet." +</P> + +<P> +"Another time," said Selma, pushing back her chair. "No, don't rise." +And up she darted, smiling gayly round at the company. "Don't anybody +disturb herself," she pleaded. "It'll be useless, for I'll be gone." +</P> + +<P> +And she was as good as her word. Before any one quite realized what +she was about, she had escaped from the dining-room and from the house. +She almost ran across the lawn and into the woods. There she drew a +long breath noisily. +</P> + +<P> +"Free!" she cried, flinging out her arms. "Oh—but it was DREADFUL!" +</P> + +<P> +Miss Hastings and Miss Clearwater had not been so penetrating as they +fancied. Embarrassment had nothing to do with the silence that had +taken possession of the associate editor of the New Day. +</P> + +<P> +She was never self-conscious enough to be really shy. She hastened to +the office, meeting Victor Dorn in the street doorway. She cried: +</P> + +<P> +"Such an experience!" +</P> + +<P> +"What now?" said Victor. He was used to that phrase from the ardent +and impressionable Selma. For her, with her wide-open eyes and ears, +her vivid imagination and her thirsty mind, life was one closely packed +series of adventures. +</P> + +<P> +"I had an hour to spare," she proceeded to explain. "I thought it was +a chance to further a little scheme I've got for marrying Jane Hastings +and David Hull." +</P> + +<P> +"Um!" said Victor with a quick change of expression—which, however, +Selma happened not to observe. +</P> + +<P> +"And," she went on, "I blundered into a luncheon party Jane was giving. +You never saw—you never dreamed of such style—such dresses and dishes +and flowers and hats! And I was sitting there with them, enjoying it +all as if it were a circus or a ballet, when—Oh, Victor, what a silly, +what a pitiful waste of time and money! So much to do in the world—so +much that is thrillingly interesting and useful—and those intelligent +young people dawdling there at nonsense a child would weary of! I had +to run away. If I had stayed another minute I should have burst out +crying—or denouncing them—or pleading with them to behave themselves." +</P> + +<P> +"What else can they do?" said Victor. "They don't know any better. +They've never been taught. How's the article?" +</P> + +<P> +And he led the way up to the editorial room and held her to the subject +of the article he had asked her to write. At the first opportunity she +went back to the subject uppermost in her mind. Said she: +</P> + +<P> +"I guess you're right—as usual. There's no hope for any people of +that class. The busy ones are thinking only of making money for +themselves, and the idle ones are too enfeebled by luxury to think at +all. No, I'm afraid there's no hope for Hull—or for Jane either." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not sure about Miss Hastings," said Victor. +</P> + +<P> +"You would have been if you'd seen her to-day," replied Selma. "Oh, she +was lovely, Victor—really wonderful to look at. But so obviously the +idler. And—body and soul she belongs to the upper class. She +understands charity, but she doesn't understand justice, and never +could understand it. I shall let her alone hereafter." +</P> + +<P> +"How harsh you women are in your judgments of each other," laughed +Dorn, busy at his desk. +</P> + +<P> +"We are just," replied Selma. "We are not fooled by each other's +pretenses." +</P> + +<P> +Dorn apparently had not heard. Selma saw that to speak would be to +interrupt. She sat at her own table and set to work on the editorial +paragraphs. After perhaps an hour she happened to glance at Victor. +He was leaning back in his chair, gazing past her out into the open; in +his face was an expression she had never seen—a look in the eyes, a +relaxing of the muscles round the mouth that made her think of him as a +man instead of as a leader. She was saying to herself. "What a +fascinating man he would have been, if he had not been an incarnate +cause." +</P> + +<P> +She felt that he was not thinking of his work. She longed to talk to +him, but she did not venture to interrupt. Never in all the years she +had known him had he spoken to her—or to any one—a severe or even an +impatient word. His tolerance, his good humor were infinite. +Yet—she, and all who came into contact with him, were afraid of him. +There could come, and on occasion there did come—into those +extraordinary blue eyes an expression beside which the fiercest flash +of wrath would be easy to face. +</P> + +<P> +When she glanced at him again, his normal expression had returned—the +face of the leader who aroused in those he converted into +fellow-workers a fanatical devotion that was the more formidable +because it was not infatuated. He caught her eye and said: +</P> + +<P> +"Things are in such good shape for us that it frightens me. I spend +most of my time in studying the horizon in the hope that I can foresee +which way the storm's coming from and what it will be." +</P> + +<P> +"What a pessimist you are!" laughed Selma. +</P> + +<P> +"That's why the Workingmen's League has a thick-and-thin membership of +thirteen hundred and fifty," replied Victor. "That's why the New Day +has twenty-two hundred paying subscribers. That's why we grow faster +than the employers can weed our men out and replace them with +immigrants and force them to go to other towns for work." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, anyhow," said the girl, "no matter what happens we can't be +weeded out." +</P> + +<P> +Victor shook his head. "Our danger period has just begun," he replied. +"The bosses realize our power. In the past we've been annoyed a little +from time to time. But they thought us hardly worth bothering with. +In the future we will have to fight." +</P> + +<P> +"I hope they will prosecute us," said Selma. "Then, we'll grow the +faster." +</P> + +<P> +"Not if they do it intelligently," replied Victor. "An intelligent +persecution—if it's relentless enough—always succeeds. You forget +that this isn't a world of moral ideas but of force.... I am afraid of +Dick Kelly. He is something more than a vulgar boss. He SEES. My +hope is that he won't be able to make the others see. I saw him a +while ago. He was extremely polite to me—more so than he ever has +been before. He is up to something. I suspect——" +</P> + +<P> +Victor paused, reflecting. "What?" asked Selma eagerly. +</P> + +<P> +"I suspect that he thinks he has us." He rose, preparing to go out. +"Well—if he has—why, he has. And we shall have to begin all over +again." +</P> + +<P> +"How stupid they are!" exclaimed the girl. "To fight us who are simply +trying to bring about peaceably and sensibly what's bound to come about +anyhow." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes—the rain is bound to come," said Victor. "And we say, 'Here's an +umbrella and there's the way to shelter.' And they laugh at OUR +umbrella and, with the first drops plashing on their foolish faces, +deny that it's going to rain." +</P> + +<P> +The Workingmen's League, always first in the field with its ticket, had +been unusually early that year. Although it was only the first week in +August and the election would not be until the third of October, the +League had nominated. It was a ticket made up entirely of skilled +workers who had lived all their lives in Remsen City and who had +acquired an independence—Victor Dorn was careful not to expose to the +falling fire of the opposition any of his men who could be ruined by +the loss of a job or could be compelled to leave town in search of +work. The League always went early into campaign because it pursued a +much slower and less expensive method of electioneering than either of +the old parties—or than any of the "upper class" reform parties that +sprang up from time to time and died away as they accomplished or +failed of their purpose—securing recognition for certain personal +ambitions not agreeable to the old established bosses. Besides, the +League was, like the bosses and their henchmen, in politics every day +in every year. The League theory was that politics was as much a part +of a citizen's daily routine as his other work or his meals. +</P> + +<P> +It was the night of the League's great ratification meeting. The next +day the first campaign number—containing the biographical sketch of +Tony Rivers, Kelly's right-hand man ... would go upon the press, and on +the following day it would reach the public. +</P> + +<P> +Market Square in Remsen City was on the edge of the power quarter, was +surrounded by cheap hotels, boarding houses and saloons. A few years +before, the most notable citizens, market basket on arm, could have +been seen three mornings in the week, making the rounds of the stalls +and stands, both those in the open and those within the Market House. +But customs had rapidly changed in Remsen City, and with the exception +of a few old fogies only the poorer classes went to market. The +masters of houses were becoming gentlemen, and the housewives were +elevating into ladies—and it goes without saying that no gentleman and +no lady would descend to a menial task even in private, much less in +public. +</P> + +<P> +Market Square had even become too common for any but the inferior +meetings of the two leading political parties. Only the Workingmen's +League held to the old tradition that a political meeting of the first +rank could be properly held nowhere but in the natural assembling place +of the people—their market. So, their first great rally of the +campaign was billed for Market Square. And at eight o'clock, headed by +a large and vigorous drum corps, the Victor Dorn cohorts at their full +strength marched into the centre of the Square, where one of the stands +had been transformed with flags, bunting and torches into a speaker's +platform. A crowd of many thousands accompanied and followed the +procession. Workingmen's League meetings were popular, even among +those who believed their interests lay elsewhere. At League meetings +one heard the plain truth, sometimes extremely startling plain truth. +The League had no favors to ask of anybody, had nothing to conceal, was +strongly opposed to any and all political concealments. Thus, its +speakers enjoyed a freedom not usual in political speaking—and Dorn +and his fellow-leaders were careful that no router, no exaggerator or +well intentioned wild man of any kind should open his mouth under a +league banner. THAT was what made the League so dangerous—and so +steadily prosperous. +</P> + +<P> +The chairman, Thomas Colman, the cooper, was opening the meeting in a +speech which was an instance of how well a man of no platform talent +can acquit himself when he believes something and believes it is his +duty to convey it to his fellow-men. Victor Dorn, to be the fourth +speaker and the orator of the evening, was standing at the rear of the +platform partially concealed by the crowd of men and women leaders of +the party grouped behind Colman. As always at the big formal +demonstrations of the League, Victor was watching every move. This +evening his anxiety was deeper than ever before. His trained political +sagacity warned him that, as he had suggested to Selma, the time of his +party's first great crisis was at hand. No movement could become +formidable with out a life and death struggle, when its aim frankly was +to snatch power from the dominant class and to place it where that +class could not hope to prevail either by direct means of force or by +its favorite indirect means of bribery. What would Kelly do? What +would be his stroke at the very life of the League?—for Victor had +measured Kelly and knew he was not one to strike until he could destroy. +</P> + +<P> +Like every competent man of action, Victor had measured his own +abilities, and had found that they were to be relied upon. But the +contest between him and Kelly—the contest in the last ditch—was so +appallingly unequal. Kelly had the courts and the police, the moneyed +class, the employers of labor, had the clergy and well-dressed +respectability, the newspapers, all the customary arbiters of public +sentiment. Also, he had the criminal and the semi-criminal classes. +And what had the League? +</P> + +<P> +The letter of the law, guaranteeing freedom of innocent speech and +action, guaranteeing the purity of the ballot—no, not guaranteeing, +but simply asserting those rights, and leaving the upholding of them +to—Kelly's allies and henchmen! Also, the League had the power of +between a thousand and fifteen hundred intelligent and devoted men and +about the same number of women—a solid phalanx of great might, of +might far beyond its numbers. Finally, it had Victor Dorn. He had no +mean opinion of his value to the movement; but he far and most modestly +underestimated it. The human way of rallying to an abstract principle +is by way of a standard bearer—a man—personality—a real or fancied +incarnation of the ideal to be struggled for. And to the Workingmen's +League, to the movement for conquering Remsen City for the mass of its +citizens, Victor Dorn was that incarnation. +</P> + +<P> +Kelly could use violence—violence disguised as law, violence candidly +and brutally lawless. Victor Dorn could only use lawful means—clearly +and cautiously lawful means. He must at all costs prevent the use of +force against him and his party—must give Kelly no pretext for using +the law lawlessly. If Kelly used force against him, whether the +perverted law of the courts or open lawlessness, he must meet it with +peace. If Kelly smote him on the right cheek he must give him the left +to be smitten. +</P> + +<P> +When the League could outvote Kelly, then—another policy, still of +calmness and peace and civilization, but not so meek. But until the +League could outvote Kelly, nothing but patient endurance. +</P> + +<P> +Every man in the League had been drilled in this strategy. Every man +understood—and to be a member of the League meant that one was +politically educated. Victor believed in his associates as he believed +in himself. Still, human nature was human nature. If Kelly should +suddenly offer some adroit outrageous provocation—would the League be +able to resist? +</P> + +<P> +Victor, on guard, studied the crowd spreading out from the platform in +a gigantic fan. Nothing there to arouse suspicion; ten or twelve +thousand of working class men and women. His glance pushed on out +toward the edges of the crowd—toward the saloons and alleys of the +disreputable south side of Market Square. His glance traveled slowly +along, pausing upon each place where these loungers, too far away to +hear, were gathered into larger groups. Why he did not know, but +suddenly his glance wheeled to the right, and then as suddenly to the +left—the west and the east ends of the square. There, on either side +he recognized, in the farthest rim of the crowd, several of the men who +did Kelly's lowest kinds of dirty work—the brawlers, the repeaters, +the leaders of gangs, the false witnesses for petty corporation damage +cases. A second glance, and he saw or, perhaps, divined—purpose in +those sinister presences. He looked for the police—the detail of a +dozen bluecoats always assigned to large open-air meetings. Not a +policeman was to be seen. +</P> + +<P> +Victor pushed through the crowd on the platform, advanced to the side +of Colman. "Just a minute, Tom," he said. "I've got to say a word—at +once." +</P> + +<P> +Colman had fallen back; Victor Dorn was facing the crowd—HIS +crowd—the men and women who loved him. In the clear, friendly, +natural voice that marked him for the leader born, the honest leader of +an honest cause, he said: +</P> + +<P> +"My friends, if there is an attempt to disturb this meeting, remember +what we of the League stand for. No violence. Draw away from every +disturber, and wait for the police to act. If the police stop our +meeting, let them—and be ready to go to court and testify to the exact +words of the speaker on which the meeting was stopped. Remember, we +must be more lawful than the law itself!" +</P> + +<P> +He was turning away. A cheer was rising—a belated cheer, because his +words had set them all to thinking and to observing. From the left of +the crowd, a dozen yards away from the platform, came a stone heavily +rather than swiftly flung, as from an impeded hand. In full view of +all it curved across the front of the platform and struck Victor Dorn +full in the side of the head. +</P> + +<P> +He threw up his hands. +</P> + +<P> +"Boys—remember!" he shouted with a terrible energy—then, he staggered +forward and fell from the platform into the crowd. +</P> + +<P> +The stone was a signal. As it flew, into the crowd from every +direction the Beech Hollow gangs tore their way, yelling and cursing +and striking out right and left—trampling children, knocking down +women, pouring out the foulest insults. The street lamps all round +Market Square went out, the torches on the platform were torn down and +extinguished. And in a dimness almost pitch dark a riot that involved +that whole mass of people raged hideously. Yells and screams and +groans, the shrieks of women, the piteous appeals of children—benches +torn up for weapons—mad slashing about—snarls and singings of +pain-stricken groups—then police whistles, revolvers fired in the air, +and the quick, regular tramp of disciplined forces. The +police—strangely ready, strangely inactive until the mischief had all +been done entered the square from the north and, forming a double line +across it from east to west, swept it slowly clean. The fighting ended +as abruptly as it had begun. Twenty minutes after the flight of that +stone, the square was empty save a group of perhaps fifty men and women +formed about Victor Dorn's body in the shelter of the platform. +</P> + +<P> +Selma Gordon was holding his head. Jane Hastings and Ellen Clearwater +were kneeling beside him, and Jane was wiping his face with a +handkerchief wet with whisky from the flask of the man who had escorted +them there. +</P> + +<P> +"He is only stunned," said Selma. "I can feel the beat of his blood. +He is only stunned." +</P> + +<P> +A doctor came, got down on his knees, made a rapid examination with +expert hands. As he felt, one of the relighted torches suddenly lit up +Victor's face and the faces of those bending over him. +</P> + +<P> +"He is only stunned, Doctor," said Selma. +</P> + +<P> +"I think so," replied the doctor. +</P> + +<P> +"We left our carriage in the side street just over there," said Jane +Hastings. "It will take him to the hospital." +</P> + +<P> +"No—home," said Selma, who was calm. "He must be taken home." +</P> + +<P> +"The hospital is the place for him," said the doctor. +</P> + +<P> +"No—home," repeated Selma. She glanced at the men standing round. +"Tom—Henry—and you, Ed—help me lift him." +</P> + +<P> +"Please, Selma," whispered Jane. "Let him be taken to the hospital." +</P> + +<P> +"Among our enemies?" said Selma with a strange and terrible little +laugh. "Oh, no. After this, we trust no one. They may have arranged +to finish this night's work there. He goes home—doesn't he, boys?" +</P> + +<P> +"That's right, Miss Gordon," replied one of them. +</P> + +<P> +The doctor shrugged his shoulders. "Here's where I drop the case," +said he. +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing of the kind," cried Jane imperiously. "I am Jane +Hastings—Martin Hastings' daughter. You will come with us, please—or +I shall see to it that you are not let off easily for such a shameful +neglect of duty." +</P> + +<P> +"Let him go, Jane," said Selma. "There will be a doctor waiting. And +he is only stunned. Come, boys—lift him up." +</P> + +<P> +They laid him on a bench top, softened with the coats of his followers. +At the carriage, standing in Farwell Street, they laid him across the +two seats. Selma got in with him. Tom Colman climbed to the box +beside the coachman. Jane and Miss Clearwater, their escorts and about +a score of the Leaguers followed on foot. As the little procession +turned into Warner Street it was stopped by a policeman. +</P> + +<P> +"Can't go down this way," he said. +</P> + +<P> +"It's Mr. Dorn. We're taking him home. He was hurt," explained Colman. +</P> + +<P> +"Fire lines. Street's closed," said the policeman gruffly. +</P> + +<P> +Selma thrust her head out. "We must get him home——" +</P> + +<P> +"House across the street burning—and probably his house, too," cut in +the policeman. "He's been raising hell—he has. But it's coming home +to him at last. Take him to the hospital." +</P> + +<P> +"Jane," cried Selma, "make this man pass us!" +</P> + +<P> +Jane faced the policeman, explained who she was. He became humbly +civil at once. "I've just told her, ma'am," said he, "that his house +is burning. The mob's gutting the New Day office and setting fire to +everything." +</P> + +<P> +"My house is in the next street," said Colman. "Drive there. Some of +you people get Dr. Charlton—and everything. Get busy. Whip up, +driver. Here, give me the lines!" +</P> + +<P> +Thus, within five minutes, Victor was lying upon a couch in the parlor +of Colman's cottage, and within ten minutes Dr. Charlton was beside him +and was at work. Selma and Jane and Mrs. Colman were in the room. The +others—a steadily increasing crowd—were on the steps outside, in the +front yard, were filling the narrow street. Colman had organized fifty +Leaguers into a guard, to be ready for any emergencies. Over the tops +of the low houses could be seen the vast cloud of smoke from the fire; +the air was heavy with the odors of burning wood; faintly came sounds +of engines, of jubilant drunken shouts. +</P> + +<P> +"A fracture of the skull and of the jaw-bone. Not necessarily +serious," was Dr. Charlton's verdict. +</P> + +<P> +The young man, unconscious, ghastly pale, with his thick hair mussed +about his brow and on the right side clotted with blood, lay breathing +heavily. Ellen Clearwater came in and Mrs. Colman whispered to her the +doctor's cheering statement. She went to Jane and said in an undertone: +</P> + +<P> +"We can go now, Jane. Come on." +</P> + +<P> +Jane seemed not to hear. She was regarding the face of the young man +on the couch. +</P> + +<P> +Ellen touched her arm. "We're intruding on these people," she +whispered. "Let's go. We've done all we can." +</P> + +<P> +Selma did not hear, but she saw and understood. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes—you'd better go, Jane," she said. "Mrs. Colman and I will do +everything that's necessary." +</P> + +<P> +Jane did not heed. She advanced a step nearer the couch. "You are +sure, doctor?" she said, and her voice sounded unnatural. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, miss——" He glanced at her face. "Yes, Miss Hastings. He'll be +out in less than ten days, as good as ever. It's a very simple affair." +</P> + +<P> +Jane glanced round. "Is there a telephone? I wish to send for Dr. +Alban." +</P> + +<P> +"I'd be glad to see him," said Dr. Charlton. "But I assure you it's +unnecessary." +</P> + +<P> +"We don't want Dr. Alban," said Selma curtly. "Go home, Jane, and let +us alone." +</P> + +<P> +"I shall go bring Dr. Alban," said Jane. +</P> + +<P> +Selma took her by the arm and compelled her into the hall, and closed +the door into the room where Victor lay. "You must go home, Jane," she +said quietly. "We know what to do with our leader. And we could not +allow Dr. Alban here." +</P> + +<P> +"Victor must have the best," said Jane. +</P> + +<P> +She and Selma looked at each other, and Selma understood. +</P> + +<P> +"He HAS the best," said she, gentle with an effort. +</P> + +<P> +"Dr. Alban is the best," said Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"The most fashionable," said Selma. "Not the best." With restraint, +"Go home. Let us alone. This is no place for you—for Martin +Hastings' daughter." +</P> + +<P> +Jane, looking and acting like one in a trance, tried to push past her +and reenter the room. Selma stood firm. She said: "If you do not go I +shall have these men take you to your carriage. You do not know what +you are doing." +</P> + +<P> +Jane looked at her. "I love him," she said. +</P> + +<P> +"So do we," said Selma. "And he belongs to US. You must go. Come!" +She seized her by the arm, and beckoning one of the waiting Leaguers to +her assistance she pushed her quietly but relentlessly along the hall, +out of the house, out of the yard and into the carriage. Then she +closed the door, while Jane sank back against the cushions. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, he belongs to you," said Jane; "but I love him. Oh, Selma!" +</P> + +<P> +Selma suddenly burst into tears. "Go, Jane, dear. You MUST go," she +cried. +</P> + +<P> +"At least I'll wait here until—until they are sure," said Jane. "You +can't refuse me that, Selma." +</P> + +<P> +"But they are sure," said Selma. "You must go with your friends. Here +they come." +</P> + +<P> +When Ellen Clearwater and Joe Wetherbe—the second son of the chief +owner of the First National—reached the curb, Selma said to Wetherbe: +</P> + +<P> +"Please stand aside. I've something to say to this lady." +</P> + +<P> +When Wetherbe had withdrawn, she said: "Miss Hastings is—not quite +herself. You had better take her home alone." +</P> + +<P> +Jane leaned from the open carriage window. "Ellen," said she, "I am +going to stay here until Victor recovers consciousness, and I am SURE." +</P> + +<P> +"He has just come around," said Ellen. "He is certain to get well. +His mind is clear." +</P> + +<P> +"I must see for myself," cried Jane. +</P> + +<P> +Selma was preventing her leaving the carriage when Ellen quietly +interfered with a significant look for Selma. "Jane," she said, "you +can't go in. The doctor has just put every one out but his assistant +and a nurse that has come." +</P> + +<P> +Jane hesitated, drew back into the corner of the carriage. "Tell Mr. +Wetherbe to go his own way," said Ellen aside to Selma, and she got in +beside Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"To Mr. Hastings'," said Selma to the driver. The carriage drove away. +</P> + +<P> +She gave Ellen's message to Wetherbe and returned to the house. Victor +was still unconscious; he did not come to himself until toward +daylight. And then it was clear to them all that Dr. Charlton's +encouraging diagnosis was correct. +</P> + +<P> +Public opinion in Remsen City was publicly articulate by means of three +daily newspapers—the Pioneer, the Star, and the Free Press. The Star +and the Free Press were owned by the same group of capitalists who +controlled the gas company and the water works. The Pioneer was owned +by the traction interests. Both groups of capitalists were jointly +interested in the railways, the banks and in the principal factories. +The Pioneer was Republican, was regarded as the organ of Dick Kelly. +The Star was Democratic, spoke less cordially of Kelly and always +called for House, Mr. House, or Joseph House, Esquire. The Free Press +posed as independent with Democratic leanings. It indulged in +admirable essays against corruption, gang rule and bossism. But it was +never specific and during campaigns was meek and mild. For nearly a +dozen years there had not been a word of truth upon any subject +important to the people of Remsen City in the columns of any of the +three. During wars between rival groups of capitalists a half-truth +was now and then timidly uttered, but never a word of "loose talk," of +"anarchy," of anything but the entirely "safe, sane and conservative." +</P> + +<P> +Thus, any one who might have witnessed the scenes in Market Square on +Thursday evening would have been not a little astonished to read the +accounts presented the next day by the three newspapers. According to +all three the Workingmen's League, long a menace to the public peace, +had at last brought upon Remsen City the shame of a riot in which two +men, a woman and four children had lost their lives and more than a +hundred, "including the notorious Victor Dorn," had been injured. And +after the riot the part of the mob that was hostile to "the Dorn gang" +had swept down upon the office of the New Day, had wrecked it, and had +set fire to the building, with the result that five houses were burned +before the flames could be put out. The Free Press published, as a +mere rumor, that the immediate cause of the outbreak had been an +impending "scurrilous attack" in the New Day upon one of the political +gangs of the slums and its leader. The Associated Press, sending forth +an account of the riot to the entire country, represented it as a fight +between rival gangs of workmen precipitated by the insults and menaces +of a "socialistic party led by a young operator named Dorn." Dorn's +faction had aroused in the mass of the workingmen a fear that this +spread of "socialistic and anarchistic ideas" would cause a general +shut down of factories and a flight of the capital that was "giving +employment to labor." +</P> + +<P> +A version of the causes and the events, somewhat nearer the truth, was +talked about Remsen City. But all the respectable classes were well +content with what their newspapers printed. And, while some +broad-minded respectabilities spoke of the affair as an outrage, none +of them was disposed to think that any real wrong had been done. +Victor Dorn and his crowd of revolutionists had got, after all, only +their deserts. +</P> + +<P> +After forty-eight hours of careful study of public opinion, Dick Kelly +decided that Remsen City was taking the dose as he had anticipated. He +felt emboldened to proceed to his final move in the campaign against +"anarchy" in his beloved city. On the second morning after the riot, +all three newspapers published double-headed editorials calling upon +the authorities to safeguard the community against another such +degrading and dangerous upheaval. "It is time that the distinction +between liberty and license be sharply drawn." After editorials in +this vein had been repeated for several days, after sundry bodies of +eminently respectable citizens—the Merchants' Association, the +Taxpayers' League, the Chamber of Commerce—had passed indignant and +appealing resolutions, after two priests, a clergyman and four +preachers had sermonized against "the leniency of constituted authority +with criminal anarchy," Mr. Kelly had the City Attorney go before Judge +Lansing and ask for an injunction. +</P> + +<P> +Judge Lansing promptly granted the injunction. The New Day was +enjoined from appearing. The Workingmen's League was enjoined from +holding meetings. +</P> + +<P> +Then the County Prosecutor, also a henchman of Kelly's, secured from +the Grand Jury—composed of farmers, merchants and owners of +factories—indictments against Thomas Colman and Victor Dorn for +inciting a riot. +</P> + +<P> +Meanwhile Victor Dorn was rapidly recovering. With rare restraint +young Dr. Charlton did not fuss and fret and meddle, did not hamper +nature with his blundering efforts to assist, did not stuff +"nourishment" into his patient to decay and to produce poisonous blood. +He let the young man's superb vitality work the inevitable and speedy +cure. Thus, wounds and shocks, that have often been mistreated by +doctors into mortal, passed so quickly that only Selma Gordon and the +doctor himself realized how grave Victor's case had been. The day he +was indicted—just a week from the riot—he was sitting up and was +talking freely. +</P> + +<P> +"Won't it set him back if I tell him all that has occurred?" said Selma. +</P> + +<P> +"Talk to him as you would to me," replied Charlton. "He is a sensible +man. I've already told him pretty much everything. It has kept him +from fretting, to be able to lie there quietly and make his plans." +</P> + +<P> +Had you looked in upon Victor and Selma, in Colman's little transformed +parlor, you would rather have thought Selma the invalid. The man in +the bed was pale and thin of face, but his eyes had the expression of +health and of hope. Selma had great circles under her eyes and her +expression was despair struggling to conceal itself. Those +indictments, those injunctions—how powerful the enemy were! How could +such an enemy, aroused new and inflexibly resolved, be +combatted?—especially when one had no money, no way of reaching the +people, no chance to organize. +</P> + +<P> +"Dr. Charlton has told you?" said Selma. +</P> + +<P> +"Day before yesterday," replied Victor. "Why do you look so +down-in-the-mouth, Selma?" +</P> + +<P> +"It isn't easy to be cheerful, with you ill and the paper destroyed," +replied she. +</P> + +<P> +"But I'm not ill, and the paper isn't destroyed," said Victor. "Never +were either I or it doing such good work as now." His eyes were +dancing. "What more could one ask than to have such stupid enemies as +we've got?" +</P> + +<P> +Selma did not lift her eyes. To her those enemies seemed anything but +stupid. Had they not ruined the League? +</P> + +<P> +"I see you don't understand," pursued Victor. "No matter. You'll wear +a very different face two weeks from now." +</P> + +<P> +"But," said Selma, "exactly what you said you were afraid of has +occurred. And now you say you're glad of it." +</P> + +<P> +"I told you I was afraid Dick Kelly would make the one move that could +destroy us." +</P> + +<P> +"But he has!" cried Selma. +</P> + +<P> +Victor smiled. "No, indeed!" replied he. +</P> + +<P> +"What worse could he have done?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'll not tell you," said Victor. "I'd not venture to say aloud such a +dangerous thing as what I'd have done if I had been in his place. +Instead of doing that, he made us. We shall win this fall's election." +</P> + +<P> +Selma lifted her head with a sudden gesture of hope. She had unbounded +confidence in Victor Dorn, and his tone was the tone of absolute +confidence. +</P> + +<P> +"I had calculated on winning in five years. I had left the brutal +stupidity of our friend Kelly out of account." +</P> + +<P> +"Then you see how you can hold meetings and start up the paper?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't want to do either," said Victor. "I want those injunctions to +stand. Those fools have done at a stroke what we couldn't have done in +years. They have united the working class. They—the few—have +forbidden us, the many, to unite or to speak. If those injunctions hold +for a month, nothing could stop our winning this fall.... I can't +understand how Dick Kelly could be so stupid. Five years ago these +moves of his would have been bad for us—yes, even three years ago. +But we've got too strong—and he doesn't realize! Selma, when you want +to win, always pray that your opponent will underestimate you." +</P> + +<P> +"I still don't understand," said Selma. "None of us does. You must +explain to me, so that I'll know what to do." +</P> + +<P> +"Do nothing," said Victor. "I shall be out a week from to-day. I +shall not go into the streets until I not only am well but look well." +</P> + +<P> +"They arrested Tom Colman to-day," said Selma. "But they put the case +over until you'd be able to plead at the same time." +</P> + +<P> +"That's right," said Victor. "They are playing into our hands!" And +he laughed as heartily as his bandages would permit. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I don't understand—I don't understand at all!" cried Selma. +"Maybe you are all wrong about it." +</P> + +<P> +"I was never more certain in my life," replied Victor. "Stop worrying +about it, my dear." And he patted her hands gently as they lay folded +in her lap. "I want you—all our people—to go round looking sad these +next few days. I want Dick Kelly to feel that he is on the right +track." +</P> + +<P> +There came a knock at the door, and Mrs. Colman entered. She had been +a school teacher, and of all the occupations there is no other that +leaves such plain, such indelible traces upon manner, mind and soul. +Said she: +</P> + +<P> +"Miss Jane Hastings is outside in her carriage—and wants to know if +she can see you." +</P> + +<P> +Selma frowned. Victor said with alacrity: "Certainly. Bring her in, +Mrs. Colman." +</P> + +<P> +Selma rose. "Wait until I can get out of the way," she cried. +</P> + +<P> +"Sit down, and sit still," commanded Victor. +</P> + +<P> +Selma continued to move toward the door. "No—I don't wish to see +her," she said. +</P> + +<P> +Victor chagrined her by acquiescing without another word. "You'll look +in after supper?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"If you want me," said the girl. +</P> + +<P> +"Come back here," said Victor. "Wait, Mrs. Colman." When Selma was +standing by the bed he took her hand. "Selma," he said, "don't let +these things upset you. Believe me, I'm right. Can't you trust me?" +</P> + +<P> +Selma had the look of a wild creature detained against its will. "I'm +not worried about the party—and the paper," she burst out. "I'm +worried about you." +</P> + +<P> +"But I'm all right. Can't you see I'm almost well?" +</P> + +<P> +Selma drew her hand away. "I'll be back about half-past seven," she +said, and bolted from the room. +</P> + +<P> +Victor's good-natured, merry smile followed her to the door. When the +sound of her retreat by way of the rear of the house was dying away he +said to Mrs. Colman: +</P> + +<P> +"Now—bring in the young lady. And please warn her that she must stay +at most only half an hour by that clock over there on the mantel." +</P> + +<P> +Every day Jane had been coming to inquire, had been bringing or sending +flowers and fruit—which, by Dr. Charlton's orders, were not supposed +to enter the invalid's presence. Latterly she had been asking to see +Victor; she was surprised when Mrs. Colman returned with leave for her +to enter. Said Mrs. Colman: +</P> + +<P> +"He's alone. Miss Gordon has just gone. You will see a clock on the +mantel in his room. You must not stay longer than half an hour." +</P> + +<P> +"I shall be very careful what I say," said Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, you needn't bother," said the ex-school teacher. "Dr. Charlton +doesn't believe in sick-room atmosphere. You must treat Mr. Dorn +exactly as you would a well person. If you're going to take on, or put +on, you'd better not go in at all." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll do my best," said Jane, rather haughtily, for she did not like +Mrs. Colman's simple and direct manner. She was used to being treated +with deference, especially by the women of Mrs. Colman's class; and +while she disapproved of deference in theory, in practice she craved +it, and expected it, and was irritated if she did not get it. But, as +she realized how unattractive this weakness was, she usually took +perhaps more pains than does the average person to conceal it. That +day her nerves were too tense for petty precautions. However, Mrs. +Colman was too busy inspecting the details of Miss Hastings' toilet to +note Miss Hastings' manners. +</P> + +<P> +Jane's nervousness vanished the instant she was in the doorway of the +parlor with Victor Dorn looking at her in that splendidly simple and +natural way of his. "So glad to see you," he said. "What a delightful +perfume you bring with you. I've noticed it before. I know it isn't +flowers, but it smells like flowers. With most perfumes you can smell +through the perfume to something that's the very reverse of sweet." +</P> + +<P> +They were shaking hands. She said: "That nice woman who let me in +cautioned me not to put on a sick-room manner or indulge in sick-room +talk. It was quite unnecessary. You're looking fine." +</P> + +<P> +"Ain't I, though?" exclaimed Victor. "I've never been so comfortable. +Just weak enough to like being waited on. You were very good to me the +night that stone knocked me over. I want to thank you, but I don't +know how. And the flowers, and the fruit—You have been so kind." +</P> + +<P> +"I could do very little," said Jane, blushing and faltering. "And I +wanted to do—everything." Suddenly all energy, "Oh, Mr. Dorn, I heard +and saw it all. It was—INFAMOUS! And the lying newspapers—and all +the people I meet socially. They keep me in a constant rage." +</P> + +<P> +Victor was smiling gayly. "The fortunes of war," said he. "I expect +nothing else. If they fought fair they couldn't fight at all. We, on +this side of the struggle, can afford to be generous and tolerant. +They are fighting the losing battle; they're trying to hold on to the +past, and of course it's slipping from them inch by inch. But we—we +are in step with the march of events." +</P> + +<P> +When she was with him Jane felt that his cause was hers, also—was the +only cause. "When do you begin publishing your paper again?" she +asked. "As soon as you are sitting up?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not for a month or so," replied he. "Not until after the election." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I forgot about that injunction. You think that as soon as Davy +Hull's crowd is in they will let you begin again?" +</P> + +<P> +He hesitated. "Not exactly that," he said. "But after the election +there will be a change." +</P> + +<P> +Her eyes flashed. "And they have indicted you! I heard the newsboys +crying it and stopped and bought a paper. But I shall do something +about that. I am going straight from here to father. Ellen Clearwater +and I and Joe Wetherbe SAW. And Ellen and I will testify if it's +necessary—and will make Joe tell the truth. Do you know, he actually +had the impudence to try to persuade Ellen and me the next day that we +saw what the papers reported?" +</P> + +<P> +"I believe it," said Victor. "So I believe that Joe convinced himself." +</P> + +<P> +"You are too charitable," replied Jane. "He's afraid of his father." +</P> + +<P> +"Miss Hastings," said Victor, "you suggested a moment ago that you +would influence your father to interfere in this matter of the +indictment." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll promise you now that he will have it stopped," said Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"You want to help the cause, don't you?" +</P> + +<P> +Jane's eyes shifted, a little color came into her cheeks. "The +cause—and you," she said. +</P> + +<P> +"Very well," said Victor. "Then you will not interfere. And if your +father talks of helping me you will discourage him all you can." +</P> + +<P> +"You are saying that out of consideration for me. You're afraid I will +quarrel with my father." +</P> + +<P> +"I hadn't thought of that," said Victor. "I can't tell you what I have +in mind. But I'll have to say this much—that if you did anything to +hinder those fellows from carrying out their plans against me and +against the League to the uttermost you'd be doing harm instead of +good." +</P> + +<P> +"But they may send you to jail.... No, I forgot. You can give bail." +</P> + +<P> +Victor's eyes had a quizzical expression. "Yes, I could give bail. +But even if I don't give bail, Miss Hastings—even if I am sent to +jail—Colman and I—still you must not interfere. You promise me?" +</P> + +<P> +Jane hesitated. "I can't promise," she finally said. +</P> + +<P> +"You must," said Victor. "You'll make a mess of my plans, if you +don't." +</P> + +<P> +"You mean that?" +</P> + +<P> +"I mean that. Your intentions are good. But you would only do +mischief—serious mischief." +</P> + +<P> +They looked at each other. Said Jane: "I promise—on one condition." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes?" +</P> + +<P> +"That if you should change your mind and should want my help, you'd +promptly and freely ask for it." +</P> + +<P> +"I agree to that," said Victor. "Now, let's get it clearly in mind. +No matter what is done about me or the League, you promise not to +interfere in any way, unless I ask you to." +</P> + +<P> +Again Jane hesitated. "No matter what they do?" she pleaded. +</P> + +<P> +"No matter what they do," insisted he. +</P> + +<P> +Something in his expression gave her a great thrill of confidence in +him, of enthusiasm. "I promise," she said. "You know best." +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed I do," said he. "Thank you." +</P> + +<P> +A moment's silence, then she exclaimed: "That was why you let me in +to-day—because you wanted to get that promise from me." +</P> + +<P> +"That was one of the reasons," confessed he. "In fact, it was the +chief reason." He smiled at her. "There's nothing I'm so afraid of as +of enthusiasm. I'm going to be still more cautious and exact another +promise from you. You must not tell any one that you have promised not +to interfere." +</P> + +<P> +"I can easily promise that," said Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"Be careful," warned Victor. "A promise easily made is a promise +easily forgotten." +</P> + +<P> +"I begin to understand," said Jane. "You want them to attack you as +savagely as possible. And you don't want them to get the slightest +hint of your plan." +</P> + +<P> +"A good guess," admitted Victor. He looked at her gravely. +"Circumstances have let you farther into my confidence than any one +else is. I hope you will not abuse it." +</P> + +<P> +"You can rely upon me," said Jane. "I want your friendship and your +respect as I never wanted anything in my life before. I'm not afraid to +say these things to you, for I know I'll not be misunderstood." +</P> + +<P> +Victor's smile thrilled her again. "You were born one of us," he said. +"I felt it the first time we talked together." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. I do want to be somebody," replied the girl. "I can't content +myself in a life of silly routine ... can't do things that have no +purpose, no result. And if it wasn't for my father I'd come out openly +for the things I believe in. But I've got to think of him. It may be +a weakness, but I couldn't overcome it. As long as my father lives I'll +do nothing that would grieve him. Do you despise me for that?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't despise anybody for anything," said Victor. "In your place I +should put my father first." He laughed. "In your place I'd probably +be a Davy Hull or worse. I try never to forget that I owe everything +to the circumstances in which I was born and brought up. I've simply +got the ideas of my class, and it's an accident that I am of the class +to which the future belongs—the working class that will possess the +earth as soon as it has intelligence enough to enter into its kingdom." +</P> + +<P> +"But," pursued Jane, returning to herself, "I don't intend to be +altogether useless. I can do something and he—my father, I +mean—needn't know. Do you think that is dreadful?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't like it," said Victor. But he said it in such a way that she +did not feel rebuked or even judged. +</P> + +<P> +"Nor do I," said she. "I'd rather lead the life I wish to lead—say +the things I believe—do the things I believe in—all openly. But I +can't. And all I can do is to spend the income of my money my mother +left me—spend it as I please." With a quick embarrassed gesture she +took an envelope from a small bag in which she was carrying it. +"There's some of it," she said. "I want to give that to your campaign +fund. You are free to use it in any way you please—any way, for +everything you are and do is your cause." +</P> + +<P> +Victor was lying motionless, his eyes closed. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't refuse," she begged. "You've no right to refuse." +</P> + +<P> +A long silence, she watching him uneasily. At last he said, "No—I've +no right to refuse. If I did, it would be from a personal motive. You +understand that when you give the League this money you are doing what +your father would regard as an act of personal treachery to him?" +</P> + +<P> +"You don't think so, do you?" cried she. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I do," said he deliberately. +</P> + +<P> +Her face became deathly pale, then crimson. She thrust the envelope +into the bag, closed it hastily. "Then I can't give it," she murmured. +"Oh—but you are hard!" +</P> + +<P> +"If you broke with your father and came with us—and it killed him, as +it probably would," Victor Dorn went on, "I should respect you—should +regard you as a wonderful, terrible woman. I should envy you having a +heart strong enough to do a thing so supremely right and so supremely +relentless. And I should be glad you were not of my blood—should +think you hardly human. Yet that is what you ought to do." +</P> + +<P> +"I am not up to it," said Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"Then you mustn't do the other," said Victor. "We need the money. I +am false to the cause in urging you not to give it. But—I'm human." +</P> + +<P> +He was looking away, an expression in his eyes and about his mouth that +made him handsomer than she would have believed a man could be. She +was looking at him longingly, her beautiful eyes swimming. Her lips +were saying inaudibly, "I love you—I love you." +</P> + +<P> +"What did you say?" he asked, his thoughts returning from their far +journey. +</P> + +<P> +"My time is up," she exclaimed, rising. +</P> + +<P> +"There are better ways of helping than money," said he, taking her +hand. "And already you've helped in those ways." +</P> + +<P> +"May I come again?" +</P> + +<P> +"Whenever you like. But—what would your father say?" +</P> + +<P> +"Then you don't want me to come again?" +</P> + +<P> +"It's best not," said he. "I wish fate had thrown us on the same side. +But it has put us in opposite camps—and we owe it to ourselves to +submit." +</P> + +<P> +Their hands were still clasped. "You are content to have it so?" she +said sadly. +</P> + +<P> +"No, I'm not," cried he, dropping her hand. "But we are helpless." +</P> + +<P> +"We can always hope," said she softly. +</P> + +<P> +On impulse she laid her hand in light caress upon his brow, then +swiftly departed. As she stood in Mrs. Colman's flowery little front +yard and looked dazedly about, it seemed to her that she had been away +from the world—away from herself—and was reluctantly but inevitably +returning. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap06"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +VI +</H3> + +<P> +As Jane drove into the grounds of the house on the hilltop she saw her +father and David Hull in an obviously intimate and agitated +conversation on the front veranda. She made all haste to join them; +nor was she deterred by the reception she got—the reception given to +the unwelcome interrupter. Said she: +</P> + +<P> +"You are talking about those indictments, aren't you? Everyone else +is. There's a group on every corner down town, and people are calling +their views to each other from windows across the streets." +</P> + +<P> +Davy glanced triumphantly at her father. "I told you so," said he. +</P> + +<P> +Old Hastings was rubbing his hand over his large, bony, wizened face in +the manner that indicates extreme perplexity. +</P> + +<P> +Davy turned to Jane. "I've been trying to show your father what a +stupid, dangerous thing Dick Kelly has done. I want him to help me +undo it. It MUST be undone or Victor Dorn will sweep the town on +election day." +</P> + +<P> +Jane's heart was beating wildly. She continued to say carelessly, "You +think so?" +</P> + +<P> +"Davy's got a bad attack of big red eye to-day," said her father. +"It's a habit young men have." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm right, Mr. Hastings," cried Hull. "And, furthermore, you know I'm +right, Jane; you saw that riot the other night. Joe Wetherbe told me +so. You said that it was an absolutely unprovoked assault of the gangs +of Kelly and House. Everyone in town knows it was. The middle and the +upper class people are pretending to believe what the papers +printed—what they'd like to believe. But they KNOW better. The +working people are apparently silent. They usually are apparently +silent. But they know the truth—they are talking it among themselves. +And these indictments will make Victor Dorn a hero." +</P> + +<P> +"What of it? What of it?" said Hastings impatiently. "The working +people don't count." +</P> + +<P> +"Not as long as we can keep them divided," retorted Davy. "But if they +unite——" +</P> + +<P> +And he went on to explain what he had in mind. He gave them an +analysis of Remsen City. About fifty thousand inhabitants, of whom +about ten thousand were voters. These voters were divided into three +classes—upper class, with not more than three or four hundred votes, +and therefore politically of no importance AT THE POLLS, though +overwhelmingly the most influential in any other way; the middle class, +the big and little merchants, the lawyers and doctors, the agents and +firemen and so on, mustering in all about two thousand votes; finally, +the working class with no less than eight thousand votes out of a total +of ten thousand. +</P> + +<P> +"By bribery and cajolery and browbeating and appeal to religious +prejudice and to fear of losing jobs—by all sorts of chicane," said +Davy, "about seven of these eight thousand votes are kept divided +between the Republican or Kelly party and the Democratic or House +party. The other ten or twelve hundred belong to Victor Dorn's League. +Now, the seven thousand workingmen voters who follow Kelly and House +like Victor Dorn, like his ideas, are with him at heart. But they are +afraid of him. They don't trust each other. Workingmen despise the +workingman as an ignorant fool." +</P> + +<P> +"So he is," said Hastings. +</P> + +<P> +"So he is," agreed Davy. "But Victor Dorn has about got the workingmen +in this town persuaded that they'd fare better with Dorn and the League +as their leaders than with Kelly and House as their leaders. And if +Kelly goes on to persecute Victor Dorn, the workingmen will be +frightened for their rights to free speech and free assembly. And +they'll unite. I appeal to you, Jane—isn't that common sense?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know anything about politics," said Jane, looking bored. "You +must go in and lie down before dinner, father. You look tired." +</P> + +<P> +Hastings got ready to rise. +</P> + +<P> +"Just a minute, Mr. Hastings," pleaded Hull. "This must be settled +now—at once. I must be in a position not only to denounce this thing, +but also to stop it. Not to-morrow, but to-day ... so that the morning +papers will have the news." +</P> + +<P> +Jane's thoughts were flying—but in circles. Everybody habitually +judges everybody else as both more and less acute than he really is. +Jane had great respect for Davy as a man of college education. But +because he had no sense of humor and because he abounded in lengthy +platitudes she had thought poorly indeed of his abilities. She had +been realizing her mistake in these last few minutes. The man who had +made that analysis of politics—an analysis which suddenly enlighted +her as to what political power meant and how it was wielded everywhere +on earth as well as in Remsen City—the man was no mere dreamer and +theorist. He had seen the point no less clearly than had Victor Dorn. +But what concerned her, what set her to fluttering, was that he was +about to checkmate Victor Dorn. What should she say and do to help +Victor? +</P> + +<P> +She must get her father away. She took him gently by the arm, kissed +the top of his head. "Come on, father," she cried. "I'll let Davy work +his excitement off on me. You must take care of your health." +</P> + +<P> +But Hastings resisted. "Wait a minute, Jenny," said he. "I must +think." +</P> + +<P> +"You can think lying down," insisted his daughter Davy was about to +interpose again, but she frowned him into silence. +</P> + +<P> +"There's something in what Davy says," persisted her father. "If that +there Victor Dorn should carry the election, there'd be no living in +the same town with him. It'd put him away up out of reach." +</P> + +<P> +Jane abruptly released her father's arm. She had not thought of +that—of how much more difficult Victor would be if he won now. She +wanted him to win ultimately—yes, she was sure she did. But—now? +Wouldn't that put him beyond her reach—beyond need of her? +</P> + +<P> +She said: "Please come, father!" But it was perfunctory loyalty to +Victor. Her father settled back; Davy Hull began afresh, pressing home +his point, making his contention so clear that even Martin Hastings' +prejudice could not blind him to the truth. And Jane sat on the arm of +a big veranda chair and listened and made no further effort to +interfere. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't agree with you, Hull," said the old man at last. "Victor +Dorn's run up agin the law at last, and he ought to get the +consequences good and hard. But——" +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Hastings," interrupted Davy eagerly—too fond of talking to +realize that the old man was agreeing with him, "Your daughter saw——" +</P> + +<P> +"Fiddle-fiddle," cried the old man. "Don't bring sentimental women +into this, Davy. As I was saying, Victor ought to be punished for the +way he's been stirring up idle, lazy, ignorant people against the men +that runs the community and gives 'em jobs and food for their children. +But maybe it ain't wise to give him his deserts—just now. Anyhow, +while you've been talking away like a sewing machine I've been +thinking. I don't see as how it can do any serious HARM to stop them +there indictments." +</P> + +<P> +"That's it, Mr. Hastings," cried Hull. "Even if I do exaggerate, as +you seem to think, still where's the harm in doing it?" +</P> + +<P> +"It looks as if the respectable people were afraid of the lower +classes," said Hastings doubtfully. "And that's always bad." +</P> + +<P> +"But it won't look that way," replied Davy, "if my plan is followed." +</P> + +<P> +"And what might be your plan?" inquired Hastings. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm to be the reform candidate for Mayor. Your son-in-law, Hugo, is +to be the reform candidate for judge. The way to handle this is for me +to come out in a strong statement denouncing the indictments, and the +injunction against the League and the New Day, too. And I'll announce +that Hugo Galland is trying to join in the fight against them and that +he is indignant and as determined as I am. Then early to-morrow +morning we can go before Judge Lansing and can present arguments, and +he will denounce the other side for misleading him as to the facts, and +will quash the indictments and vacate the injunctions." +</P> + +<P> +Hastings nodded reflectively. "Pretty good," said he with a sly grin. +"And Davy Hull and my son-in-law will be popular heroes." +</P> + +<P> +Davy reddened. "Of course. I want to get all the advantage I can for +our party," said he. "I don't represent myself. I represent the +party." +</P> + +<P> +Martin grinned more broadly. He who had been representing "honest +taxpayers" and "innocent owners" of corrupt stock and bonds all his +life understood perfectly. "It's hardly human to be as unselfish as +you and I are, Davy," said he. "Well, I'll go in and do a little +telephoning. You go ahead and draw up your statement and get it to the +papers—and see Hugo." He rose, stood leaning on his cane, all bent +and shrivelled and dry. "I reckon Judge Lansing'll be expecting you +to-morrow morning." He turned to enter the house, halted, crooked his +head round for a piercing look at young Hull. "Don't go talking round +among your friends about what you're going to do," said he sharply. +"Don't let NOBODY know until it's done." +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly, sir," said Davy. +</P> + +<P> +"I could see you hurrying down to that there University Club to sit +there and tell it all to those smarties that are always blowing about +what they're going to do. You'll be right smart of a man some day, +Davy, if you'll learn to keep your mouth shut." +</P> + +<P> +Davy looked abashed. He did not know which of his many indiscretions +of self-glorifying talkativeness Mr. Hastings had immediately in mind. +But he could recall several, any one of which was justification for the +rather savage rebuke—the more humiliating that Jane was listening. He +glanced covertly at her. +</P> + +<P> +Perhaps she had not heard; she was gazing into the distance with a +strange expression upon her beautiful face, an expression that fastened +his attention, absorbed though he was in his project for his own +ambitions. As her father disappeared, he said: +</P> + +<P> +"What are you thinking about, Jane?" +</P> + +<P> +Jane startled guiltily. "I? Oh—I don't know—a lot of things." +</P> + +<P> +"Your look suggested that you were having a—a severe attack of +conscience," said he, laughingly. He was in soaring good humor now, +for he saw his way clear to election. +</P> + +<P> +"I was," said Jane, suddenly stern. A pause, then she laughed—rather +hollowly. "Davy, I guess I'm almost as big a fraud as you are. What +fakirs we human beings are?—always posing as doing for others and +always doing for our selfish selves." +</P> + +<P> +Davy's face took on its finest expression. "Do you think it's +altogether selfishness for me to fight for Victor Dorn and give him a +chance to get out his paper again—when he has warned me that he is +going to print things that may defeat me?" +</P> + +<P> +"You know he'll not print them now," retorted Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed I don't. He's not so forbearing." +</P> + +<P> +"You know he'll not print them now," repeated Jane. "He'd not be so +foolish. Every one would forget to ask whether what he said about you +was true or false. They'd think only of how ungenerous and ungrateful +he was. He wouldn't be either. But he'd seem to be—and that comes to +the same thing." She glanced mockingly at Hull. "Isn't that your +calculation?" +</P> + +<P> +"You are too cynical for a woman, Jane," said Davy. "It's not +attractive." +</P> + +<P> +"To your vanity?" retorted Jane. "I should think not." +</P> + +<P> +"Well—good-by," said Davy, taking his hat from the rail. "I've got a +hard evening's work before me. No time for dinner." +</P> + +<P> +"Another terrible sacrifice for public duty," mocked Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"You must be frightfully out of humor with yourself, to be girding at +me so savagely," said Davy. +</P> + +<P> +"Good-by, Mr. Mayor." +</P> + +<P> +"I shall be—in six weeks." +</P> + +<P> +Jane's face grew sombre. "Yes—I suppose so," said she. "The people +would rather have one of us than one of their own kind. They do look up +to us, don't they? It's ridiculous of them, but they do. The idea of +choosing you, when they might have Victor Dorn." +</P> + +<P> +"He isn't running for Mayor," objected Hull. "The League's candidate +is Harbinger, the builder." +</P> + +<P> +"No, it's Victor Dorn," said Jane. "The best man in a party—the +strongest man—is always the candidate for all the offices. I don't +know much about politics, but I've learned that much.... It's Victor +Dorn against—Dick Kelly—or Kelly and father." +</P> + +<P> +Hull reddened. She had cut into quick. "You will see who is Mayor +when I'm elected," said he with all his dignity. +</P> + +<P> +Jane laughed in the disagreeably mocking way that was the climax of her +ability to be nasty when she was thoroughly out of humor. "That's +right, Davy. Deceive yourself. It's far more comfortable. So long!" +</P> + +<P> +And she went into the house. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Davy's conduct of the affair was masterly. He showed those rare +qualities of judgment and diplomacy that all but insure a man a +distinguished career. His statement for the press was a model of +dignity, of restrained indignation, of good common sense. The most +difficult part of his task was getting Hugo Galland into condition for +a creditable appearance in court. In so far as Hugo's meagre +intellect, atrophied by education and by luxury, permitted him to be a +lawyer at all, he was of that now common type called the corporation +lawyer. That is, for him human beings had ceased to exist, and of +course human rights, also; the world as viewed from the standpoint of +law contained only corporations, only interests. Thus, a man like +Victor Dorn was in his view the modern form of the devil—was a +combination of knave and lunatic who had no right to live except in the +restraint of an asylum or a jail. +</P> + +<P> +Fortunately, while Hugo despised the "hoi polloi" as only a stupid, +miseducated snob can despise, he appreciated that they had votes and so +must be conciliated; and he yearned with the snob's famished yearning +for the title and dignity of judge. Davy found it impossible to +convince him that the injunctions and indictments ought to be attacked +until he had convinced him that in no other way could he become Judge +Galland. As Hugo was fiercely prejudiced and densely stupid and +reverent of the powers of his own intellect, to convince him was not +easy. In fact, Davy did not begin to succeed until he began to suggest +that whoever appeared before Judge Lansing the next morning in defense +of free speech would be the Alliance and Democratic and Republican +candidate for judge, and that if Hugo couldn't see his way clear to +appearing he might as well give up for the present his political +ambitions. +</P> + +<P> +Hugo came round. Davy left him at one o'clock in the morning and went +gloomily home. He had known what a prejudiced ass Galland was, how +unfit he was for the office of judge; but he had up to that time hidden +the full truth from himself. Now, to hide it was impossible. Hugo had +fully exposed himself in all his unfitness of the man of narrow upper +class prejudices, the man of no instinct or enthusiasm for right, +justice and liberty. "Really, it's a crime to nominate such a chap as +that," he muttered. "Yet we've got to do it. How Selma Gordon's eyes +would shame me, if she could see me now!" +</P> + +<P> +Davy had the familiar fondness for laying on the secret penitential +scourge—wherewith we buy from our complacent consciences license to +indulge in the sins our appetites or ambitions crave. +</P> + +<P> +Judge Lansing—you have never seen a man who LOOKED the judge more +ideally than did gray haired, gray bearded, open browed Robert +Lansing—Judge Lansing was all ready for his part in the farce. He +knew Hugo and helped him over the difficult places and cut him short as +soon as he had made enough of his speech to give an inkling of what he +was demanding. The Judge was persuaded to deliver himself of a +high-minded and eloquent denunciation of those who had misled the court +and the county prosecutor. He pointed out—in weighty judicial +language—that Victor Dorn had by his conduct during several years +invited just such a series of calamities as had beset him. But he went +on to say that Dorn's reputation and fondness for speech and action +bordering on the lawless did not withdraw from him the protection of +the law. In spite of himself the law would protect him. The +injunctions were dissolved and the indictments were quashed. +</P> + +<P> +The news of the impending application, published in the morning papers, +had crowded the court room. When the Judge finished a tremendous cheer +went up. The cheer passed on to the throng outside, and when Davy and +Hugo appeared in the corridor they were borne upon the shoulders of +workingmen and were not released until they had made speeches. Davy's +manly simplicity and clearness covered the stammering vagueness of hero +Galland. +</P> + +<P> +As Davy was gradually clearing himself of the eager handshakers and +back-slappers, Selma suddenly appeared before him. Her eyes were +shining and her whole body seemed to be irradiating emotion of +admiration and gratitude. "Thank you—oh, thank you!" she said, +pressing his hand. "How I have misjudged you!" +</P> + +<P> +Davy did not wince. He had now quite forgotten the part selfish +ambition had played in his gallant rush to the defense of imperilled +freedom—had forgotten it as completely as the now ecstatic Hugo had +forgotten his prejudices against the "low, smelly working people." He +looked as exalted as he felt. "I only did my plain duty," replied he. +"How could any decent American have done less?" +</P> + +<P> +"I haven't seen Victor since yesterday afternoon," pursued Selma. "But +I know how grateful he'll be—not so much for what you did as that YOU +did it." +</P> + +<P> +The instinct of the crowd—the universal human instinct—against +intruding upon a young man and young woman talking together soon +cleared them of neighbors. An awkward silence fell. Said he +hesitatingly: +</P> + +<P> +"Are you ready to give your answer?—to that question I asked you the +other day." +</P> + +<P> +"I gave you my answer then," replied she, her glance seeking a way of +escape. +</P> + +<P> +"No," said he. "For you said then that you would not marry me. And I +shall never take no for an answer until you have married some one else." +</P> + +<P> +She looked up at him with eyes large and grave and puzzled. "I'm sure +you don't want to marry me," she said. "I wonder why you keep asking +me." +</P> + +<P> +"I have to be honest with you," said Davy. "Somehow you bring out all +the good there is in me. So, I can't conceal anything from you. In a +way I don't want to marry you. You're not at all the woman I have +always pictured as the sort I ought to marry and would marry. +But—Selma, I love you. I'd give up anything—even my career—to get +you. When I'm away from you I seem to regain control of myself. But +just as soon as I see you, I'm as bad as ever again." +</P> + +<P> +"Then we mustn't see each other," said she. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly she nodded, laughed up at him and darted away—and Hugo +Galland, long since abandoned by the crowd, had seized him by the arm. +</P> + +<P> +Selma debated whether to take Victor the news or to continue her walk. +She decided for the walk. She had been feeling peculiarly toward +Victor since the previous afternoon. She had not gone back in the +evening, but had sent an excuse by one of the Leaguers. It was plain +to her that Jane Hastings was up to mischief, and she had begun to +fear—sacrilegious though she felt it to be to harbor such a +suspicion—that there was man enough, weak, vain, susceptible man +enough, in Victor Dorn to make Jane a danger. The more she had thought +about Jane and her environment, the clearer it had become that there +could be no permanent and deep sincerity in Jane's aspirations after +emancipation from her class. It was simply the old, old story of a +woman of the upper class becoming infatuated with a man of a genuine +kind of manhood rarely found in the languor-producing surroundings of +her own class. Would Victor yield? No! her loyalty indignantly +answered. But he might allow this useless idler to hamper him, to +weaken his energies for the time—and during a critical period. +</P> + +<P> +She did not wish to see Victor again until she should have decided what +course to take. To think at her ease she walked out Monroe Avenue on +her way to the country. It was a hot day, but walking along in the +beautiful shade Selma felt no discomfort, except a slight burning of +the eyes from the fierce glare of the white highway. In the distance +she heard the sound of an engine. +</P> + +<P> +A few seconds, and past her at high speed swept an automobile. Its +heavy flying wheels tore up the roadway, raised an enormous cloud of +dust. The charm of the walk was gone; the usefulness of roadway and +footpaths was destroyed for everybody for the fifteen or twenty minutes +that it would take for the mass of dust to settle—on the foliage, in +the grass, on the bodies and clothing of passers-by and in their lungs. +Selma halted and gazed after the auto. Who was tearing along at this +mad speed? Who was destroying the comfort of all using that road, and +annoying them and making the air unfit to breathe! Why, an idle, +luxuriously dressed woman, not on an errand of life or death, but going +down town to amuse herself shopping or calling. +</P> + +<P> +The dust had not settled before a second auto, having a young man and +young woman apparently on the way to play tennis, rushed by, swirling +up even vaster clouds of dust and all but colliding with a baby +carriage a woman was trying to push across the street. Selma's blood +was boiling! The infamy of it! These worthless idlers! What utter +lack of manners, of consideration for their fellow beings. A GENTLEMAN +and a LADY insulting and bullying everyone who happened not to have an +automobile. Then—she laughed. The ignorant, stupid masses! They +deserved to be treated thus contemptuously, for they could stop it if +they would. "Some day we shall learn," philosophized she. "Then these +brutalities of men toward each other, these brutalities big and little, +will cease." This matter of the insulting automobiles, with insolent +horns and criminal folly of speed and hurling dust at passers-by, worse +than if the occupants had spat upon them in passing—this matter was a +trifle beside the hideous brutalities of men compelling masses of their +fellow beings, children no less than grown people, to toil at things +killing soul, mind and body simply in order that fortunes might be +made! THERE was lack of consideration worth thinking about. +</P> + +<P> +Three more autos passed—three more clouds of dust, reducing Selma to +extreme physical discomfort. Her philosophy was severely strained. +She was in the country now; but even there she was pursued by these +insolent and insulting hunters of pleasure utterly indifferent to the +comfort of their fellows. And when a fourth auto passed, bearing Jane +Hastings in a charming new dress and big, becoming hat—Selma, eyes and +throat full of dust and face and neck and hands streaked and dirty, +quite lost her temper. Jane spoke; she turned her head away, +pretending not to see! +</P> + +<P> +Presently she heard an auto coming at a less menacing pace from the +opposite direction. It drew up to the edge of the road abreast of her. +"Selma," called Jane. +</P> + +<P> +Selma paused, bent a frowning and angry countenance upon Jane. +</P> + +<P> +Jane opened the door of the limousine, descended, said to her +chauffeur: "Follow us, please." She advanced to Selma with a timid +and deprecating smile. "You'll let me walk with you?" she said. +</P> + +<P> +"I am thinking out a very important matter," replied Selma, with frank +hostility. "I prefer not to be interrupted." +</P> + +<P> +"Selma!" pleaded Jane. "What have I done to turn you against me?" +</P> + +<P> +Selma stood, silent, incarnation of freedom and will. She looked +steadily at Jane. "You haven't done anything," she replied. "On +impulse I liked you. On sober second thought I don't. That's all." +</P> + +<P> +"You gave me your friendship," said Jane. "You've no right to withdraw +it without telling me why." +</P> + +<P> +"You are not of my class. You are of the class that is at war with +mine—at war upon it. When you talk of friendship to me, you are +either false to your own people or false in your professions to me." +</P> + +<P> +Selma's manner was rudely offensive—as rude as Jane's dust, to which +it was perhaps a retort. Jane showed marvelous restraint. She told +herself that she felt compassionate toward this attractive, honest, +really nice girl. It is possible, however, that an instinct of +prudence may have had something to do with her ultra-conciliatory +attitude toward the dusty little woman in the cheap linen dress. The +enmity of one so near to Victor Dorn was certainly not an advantage. +Instead of flaring up, Jane said: +</P> + +<P> +"Now, Selma—do be human—do be your sweet, natural self. It isn't my +fault that I am what I am. And you know that I really belong heart and +soul with you." +</P> + +<P> +"Then come with us," said Selma. "If you think the life you lead is +foolish—why, stop leading it." +</P> + +<P> +"You know I can't," said Jane mournfully. +</P> + +<P> +"I know you could," retorted Selma. "Don't be a hypocrite, Jane." +</P> + +<P> +"Selma—how harsh you are!" cried Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"Either come with us or keep away from us," said the girl inflexibly. +"You may deceive yourself—and men—with that talk of broad views and +high aspirations. But you can't deceive another woman." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not trying to deceive anybody," exclaimed Jane angrily. "Permit me +to say, Selma, that your methods won't make many converts to your +cause." +</P> + +<P> +"Who ever gave you the idea that we were seeking converts in your +class?" inquired Selma. "Our whole object is to abolish your +class—and end its drain upon us—and its bad example—and make its +members useful members of our class, and more contented and happier +than they are now." She laughed—a free and merry laugh, but not +pleasant in Jane's ears. "The idea of US trying to induce young ladies +and young gentlemen with polished finger nails to sit round in +drawing-rooms talking patronizingly of doing something for the masses! +You've got a very queer notion of us, my dear Miss Hastings." +</P> + +<P> +Jane's eyes were flashing. "Selma, there's a devil in you to-day. +What is it?" she demanded. +</P> + +<P> +"There's a great deal of dust from your automobile in me and on me," +said Selma. "I congratulate you on your good manners in rushing about +spattering and befouling your fellow beings and threatening their +lives." +</P> + +<P> +Jane colored and lowered her head. "I—I never thought of that +before," she said humbly. +</P> + +<P> +Selma's anger suddenly dissolved. "I'm ashamed of myself," she cried. +"Forgive me." +</P> + +<P> +What she had said about the automobile had made an instant deep +impression upon Jane, who was honestly trying to live up to her +aspirations—when she wasn't giving up the effort as hopelessly beyond +her powers and trying to content herself with just aspiring. She was +not hypocritical in her contrition. The dust disfiguring the foliage, +streaking Selma's face and hair, was forcing the lesson in manners +vigorously home. "I'm much obliged to you for teaching me what I ought +to have learned for myself," she said. "I don't blame you for scorning +me. I am a pretty poor excuse. But"—with her most charming +smile—"I'll do better—all the faster if you'll help me." +</P> + +<P> +Selma looked at her with a frank, dismayed contrition, like a child +that realizes it has done something very foolish. "Oh, I'm so horribly +impulsive!" she cried. "It's always getting me into trouble. You +don't know how I try Victor Dorn's patience—though he never makes the +least sign." She laughed up at Jane. "I wish you'd give me a +whipping. I'd feel lots better." +</P> + +<P> +"It'd take some of my dust off you," said Jane. "Let me take you to +the house in the auto—you'll never see it going at that speed again, I +promise. Come to the house and I'll dust you off—and we'll go for a +walk in the woods." +</P> + +<P> +Selma felt that she owed it to Jane to accept. As they were climbing +the hill in the auto, Selma said: +</P> + +<P> +"My, how comfortable this is! No wonder the people that have autos +stop exercising and get fat and sick and die. I couldn't trust myself +with one." +</P> + +<P> +"It's a daily fight," confessed Jane. "If I were married and didn't +have to think about my looks and my figure I'm afraid I'd give up." +</P> + +<P> +"Victor says the only time one ought ever to ride in a carriage is to +his own funeral." +</P> + +<P> +"He's down on show and luxury of every kind—isn't he?" said Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"No, indeed," replied Selma. "Victor isn't 'down on' anything. He +thinks show and luxury are silly. He could be rich if he wished, for +he has wonderful talent for managing things and for making money. He +has refused some of the most wonderful offers—wonderful in that way. +But he thinks money-making a waste of time. He has all he wants, and +he says he'd as soon think of eating a second dinner when he'd just had +one as of exchanging time that could be LIVED for a lot of foolish +dollars." +</P> + +<P> +"And he meant it, too," said Jane. "In some men that would sound like +pretense. But not in him. What a mind he has—and what a character!" +</P> + +<P> +Selma was abruptly overcast and ominously silent. She wished she had +not been turned so far by her impulse of penitence—wished she had held +to the calm and deliberate part of her resolve about Jane—the part +that involved keeping aloof from her. However, Jane, the +tactful—hastened to shift the conversation to generalities of the +softest kinds—talked about her college life—about the inane and +useless education they had given her—drew Selma out to talk about her +own education—in the tenement—in the public school, at night school, +in factory and shop. Not until they had been walking in the woods +nearly two hours and Selma was about to go home, did Victor, about whom +both were thinking all the time, come into the conversation again. It +was Jane who could no longer keep away from the subject—the one +subject that wholly interested her nowadays. Said she: +</P> + +<P> +"Victor Dorn is REALLY almost well, you think?" +</P> + +<P> +After a significant pause Selma said in a tone that was certainly not +encouraging, "Obviously." +</P> + +<P> +"I was altogether wrong about Doctor Charlton," said Jane. "I'm +convinced now that he's the only really intelligent doctor in town. +I'm trying to persuade father to change to him." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, good-by," said Selma. She was eager to get away, for she +suddenly felt that Jane was determined to talk about Victor before +letting her go. +</P> + +<P> +"You altered toward me when I made that confession—the night of the +riot," said Jane abruptly. "Are you in love with him, too?" +</P> + +<P> +"No," said Selma. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't see how you could help being," cried Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"That's because you don't know what it is to be busy," retorted Selma. +"Love—what you call love—is one of the pastimes with your sort of +people. It's a lazy, easy way of occupying the thoughts." +</P> + +<P> +"You don't know me as well as you think you do," said Jane. Her +expression fascinated Selma—and made her more afraid than ever. +</P> + +<P> +Impulsively Selma took Jane by the arm. "Keep away from us," she said. +"You will do no good. You can only cause unhappiness—perhaps most of +all to yourself." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't I know that!" exclaimed Jane. "I'm fighting it as hard as I +can. But how little control one has over oneself when one has always +been indulged and self-indulgent." +</P> + +<P> +"The man for you is David Hull," said Selma. +</P> + +<P> +"You could help him—could make a great deal of a person out of him." +</P> + +<P> +"I know it," replied Jane. "But I don't want him, and he—perhaps you +didn't know that he is in love with you?" +</P> + +<P> +"No more than you are with Victor Dorn," said Selma. "I'm different +from the women he has known, just as Victor is different from the men +you meet in your class. But this is a waste of time." +</P> + +<P> +"You don't believe in me at all," cried Jane. "In some ways you are +very unjust and narrow, Selma." +</P> + +<P> +Selma looked at her in that grave way which seemed to compel frankness. +"Do YOU believe in yourself?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +Jane's glance shifted. +</P> + +<P> +"You know you do not," proceeded Selma. "The women of your class +rarely have sincere emotions because they do not lead sincere lives. +Part of your imaginary love for Victor Dorn is desire to fill up idle +hours. The rest of it is vanity—the desire to show your power over a +man who seems to be woman-proof." She laughed a little, turned away, +paused. "My mother used to quote a French proverb—'One cannot trifle +with love.' Be careful, Jane—for your own sake. I don't know whether +you could conquer Victor Dorn or not. But I do know IF you could +conquer him it would be only at the usual price of those conquests to a +woman." +</P> + +<P> +"And what is that?" said Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"Your own complete surrender," said Selma. +</P> + +<P> +"How wise you are!" laughed Jane. "Who would have suspected you of +knowing so much!" +</P> + +<P> +"How could I—a woman—and not unattractive to men—grow up to be +twenty-one years old, in the free life of a working woman, without +learning all there is to know about sex relations?" +</P> + +<P> +Jane looked at her with a new interest. +</P> + +<P> +"And," she went on, "I've learned—not by experience, I'm glad to say, +but by observation—that my mother's proverb is true. I shall not +think about love until I am compelled to. That is a peril a sensible +person does not seek." +</P> + +<P> +"I did not seek it," cried Jane—and then she halted and flushed. +</P> + +<P> +"Good-by, Jane," said Selma, waving her hand and moving away rapidly. +She called back—"On ne badine pas avec l'amour!" +</P> + +<P> +She went straight to Colman's cottage—to Victor, lying very pale with +his eyes shut, and big Tom Colman sitting by his bed. There was a +stillness in the room that Selma felt was ominous. Victor's +hand—strong, well-shaped, useful-looking, used-looking—not +ABUSED-looking, but USED-looking-was outside the covers upon the white +counterpane. The fingers were drumming softly; Selma knew that +gesture—a certain sign that Victor was troubled in mind. +</P> + +<P> +"You've told him," said Selma to Colman as she paused in the doorway. +</P> + +<P> +Victor turned his head quickly, opened his eyes, gave her a look of +welcome that made her thrill with pride. "Oh—there you are!" he +exclaimed. "I was hoping you'd come." +</P> + +<P> +"I saw David Hull just after it was done," said Selma. "And I thanked +him for you." +</P> + +<P> +Victor's eyes had a look of amusement, of mockery. "Thank you," he +said. +</P> + +<P> +She, the sensitive, was on the alert at once. "Didn't you want me to +thank him?" +</P> + +<P> +Victor did not answer. In the same amused way he went on: "So they +carried him on their shoulders—him and that other defender of the +rights of the people, Hugo Galland? I should like to have seen. It +was a memorable spectacle." +</P> + +<P> +"You are laughing at it," exclaimed the girl. "Why?" +</P> + +<P> +"You certainly are taking the news very queer, Victor," said Colman. +Then to Selma, "When I told him he got white and I thought I'd have to +send for Doctor Charlton." +</P> + +<P> +"Well—joy never kills," said Victor mockingly. "I don't want to keep +you, Tom—Selma'll sit with me." +</P> + +<P> +When they were alone, Victor again closed his eyes and resumed that +silent drumming upon the counterpane. Selma watched the restless +fingers as if she hoped they would disclose to her the puzzling secret +of Victor's thoughts. But she did not interrupt. +</P> + +<P> +That was one lesson in restraint that Victor had succeeded in teaching +her—never to interrupt. At last he heaved a great sigh and said: +</P> + +<P> +"Well, Selma, old girl—we've probably lost again. I was glad you came +because I wanted to talk—and I can't say what's in my mind before dear +old Tom—or any of them but my sister and you." +</P> + +<P> +"You didn't want those injunctions and indictments out of the way?" +said Selma. +</P> + +<P> +"If they had stood, we'd have won—in a walk," replied Victor. "As the +cards lie now, David Hull will win. And he'll make a pretty good show +mayor, probably—good enough to fool a large majority of our fellow +citizens, who are politically as shallow and credulous as nursery +children. And so—our work of educating them will be the harder and +slower. Oh, these David Hulls!—these good men who keep their mantles +spotless in order to make them the more useful as covers for the dirty +work of others!" Suddenly his merry smile burst out. "And they carried +Hugo Galland on their shoulders?" +</P> + +<P> +"Then you don't think Hull's motives were honorable?" inquired Selma, +perplexed and anxious. +</P> + +<P> +"How could I know his motives?—any man's motives?" replied Victor. +"No one can read men's hearts. All I ever consider is actions. And +the result of his actions is probably the defeat of the League and the +election of Dick Kelly." +</P> + +<P> +"I begin to understand," said Selma thoughtfully. "But—I do believe +his motive was altogether good." +</P> + +<P> +"My dear girl," said Victor, "the primer lesson in the life of action +is: 'Never—NEVER look at motives. Action—only actions—always +actions.' The chief reason the human race is led patiently round by +the nose is its fondness for fussing about motives. We are interested +only in men's actions and the results to our cause. Davy Hull's +motives concern only himself—and those who care for him." Victor's +eyes, twinkling mischievously, shot a shrewd glance at Selma. "You're +not by any chance in love with Davy?" +</P> + +<P> +Selma colored high. "Certainly not!" she exclaimed indignantly. +</P> + +<P> +"Why not? Why not?" teased Victor. "He's tall and handsome—and +superbly solemn—and women always fancy a solemn man has intellect and +character. Not that Davy is a fool—by no means. I'd be the last man +to say that—I whom he has just cleverly checkmated in one move." +</P> + +<P> +"You intended not to give bail! You intended to go to jail!" exclaimed +Selma abruptly. "I see it all! How stupid I was! Oh, I could cry, +Victor! What a chance." +</P> + +<P> +"Spilt milk," said Victor. "We must forget it, and plan to meet the +new conditions. We'll start the paper at once. We can't attack him. +Very clever of him—very clever! If he were as brave as he is shrewd, +I'd almost give up hope of winning this town while he was in politics +here. But he lacks courage. And he daren't think and speak honestly. +How that does cripple a man!" +</P> + +<P> +"He'll be one of us before very long," said Selma. "You misjudge him, +Victor." +</P> + +<P> +Dorn smiled. "Not so long as his own class gratifies his ambitions," +replied Victor. "If he came with us it'd be because his own class had +failed him and he hoped to rise through and upon—ours." +</P> + +<P> +Selma did not agree with him. But as she always felt presumptuous and +even foolish in disagreeing with Victor, she kept silent. And +presently Victor began to lay out her share in the task of starting up +the New Day. "I shall be all right within a week," said he, "and we +must get the first number out the week following." She was realizing +now that Hull's move had completely upset an elaborate plan of campaign +into which Victor had put all his intelligence and upon which he had +staked all his hopes. She marvelled as he talked, unfolding rapidly an +entirely new campaign, different in every respect from what the other +would have been. How swiftly his mind had worked, and how well! How +little time he had wasted in vain regrets! How quickly he had +recovered from a reverse that would have halted many a strong man. +</P> + +<P> +And then she remembered how they all, his associates, were like him, +proof against the evil effects of set-back and defeat. And why were +they so? Because Victor Dorn had trained them to fight for the cause, +and not for victory. "Our cause is the right, and in the end right is +bound to win because the right is only another name for the +sensible"—that had been his teaching. And a hardy army he had +trained. The armies trained by victory are strong; but the armies +schooled by defeat—they are invincible. +</P> + +<P> +When he had explained his new campaign—as much of it as he deemed it +wise at that time to withdraw from the security of his own brain—she +said: +</P> + +<P> +"But it seems to me we've got a good chance to win, anyhow." +</P> + +<P> +"A chance, perhaps," replied he. "But we'll not bother about that. +All we've got to do is to keep on strengthening ourselves." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, that's it!" she cried. "One added here—five there—ten yonder. +Every new stone fitted solidly against the ones already in place." +</P> + +<P> +"We must never forget that we aren't merely building a new party," said +Dorn. "We're building a new civilization—one to fit the new +conditions of life. Let the Davy Hulls patch and tinker away at trying +to keep the old structure from falling in. We know it's bound to fall +and that it isn't fit for decent civilized human beings to live in. +And we're getting the new house ready. So—to us, election day is no +more important than any of the three hundred and sixty-five." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +It was into the presence of a Victor Dorn restored in mind as well as +in body that Jane Hastings was shown by his sister, Mrs. Sherrill, one +afternoon a week or so later. +</P> + +<P> +All that time Jane had been searching for an excuse for going to see +him. She had haunted the roads and the woods where he and Selma +habitually walked. She had seen neither of them. When the pretext for +a call finally came to her, as usual, the most obvious thing in the +world. He must be suspecting her of having betrayed his confidence and +brought about the vacating of those injunctions and the quashing of the +indictments. She must go to him and clear herself of suspicion. +</P> + +<P> +She felt that the question of how she should dress for this crucial +interview, this attempt to establish some sort of friendly relations +with him, was of the very highest importance. Should she wear something +plain, something that would make her look as nearly as might be like +one of his own class? HIS class! +</P> + +<P> +No—no, indeed. The class in which he was accidentally born and bred, +but to which he did not belong. Or, should she go dressed frankly as +of her own class—wearing the sort of things that made her look her +finest and most superior and most beautiful? Having nothing else to do, +she spent several hours in trying various toilets. She was not long in +deciding against disguising herself as a working woman. That garb +might win his mental and moral approval; but not by mental and moral +ways did women and men prevail with each other. In plain garb—so Jane +decided, as she inspected herself—she was no match for Selma Gordon; +she looked awkward, out of her element. So much being settled, there +remained to choose among her various toilets. She decided for an +embroidered white summer dress, extremely simple, but in the way that +costs beyond the power of any but the very rich to afford. When she was +ready to set forth, she had never looked so well in her life. Her +toilet SEEMED a mere detail. In fact, it was some such subtlety as +those arrangements of lines and colors in great pictures, whereby the +glance of the beholder is unconsciously compelled toward the central +figure, just as water in a funnel must go toward the aperture at the +bottom. Jane felt, not without reason, that she had executed a stroke +of genius. She was wearing nothing that could awaken Victor Dorn's +prejudices about fine clothes, for he must have those prejudices. Yet +she was dressed in conformity with all that centuries, ages of +experience, have taught the dressmaking art on the subject of feminine +allure. And, when a woman feels that she is so dressed, her natural +allure becomes greatly enhanced. +</P> + +<P> +She drove down to a point in Monroe Avenue not far from the house where +Victor and his family lived. The day was hot; boss-ridden Remsen City +had dusty and ragged streets and sidewalks. It, therefore, would not +do to endanger the freshness of the toilet. But she would arrive as if +she had come all the way on foot. Arrival in a motor at so humble a +house would look like ostentation; also, if she were seen going through +that street afoot, people would think she was merely strolling a little +out of her way to view the ruins of the buildings set on fire by the +mob. She did pause to look at these ruins; the air of the neighborhood +still had a taint of burnt wood and paper. Presently, when she was sure +the street was clear of people of the sort who might talk—she hastily +entered the tiny front yard of Victor's house, and was pleased to find +herself immediately screened from the street by the luxuriant bushes +and creepers. +</P> + +<P> +There was nothing in the least pretentious about the appearance of the +little house. It was simply a well built cottage—but of brick, +instead of the usual wood, and the slate roof descended at attractive +angles. The door she was facing was superior to the usual +flimsy-looking door. Indeed, she at once became conscious of a highly +attractive and most unexpected air of substantiality and good taste. +The people who lived here seemed to be permanent people—long resident, +and looking forward to long residence. She had never seen such +beautiful or such tastefully grouped sun flowers, and the dahlias and +marigolds were far above the familiar commonplace kitchen garden +flowers. +</P> + +<P> +The door opened, and a handsome, extremely intelligent looking woman, +obviously Victor's sister, was looking pleasantly at her. Said she: +"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting. But I was busy in the kitchen. +This is Miss Hastings, isn't it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said Jane, smiling friendlily. +</P> + +<P> +"I've heard my brother and Selma talk of you." (Jane wondered WHAT +they had said.) "You wish to see Victor?" +</P> + +<P> +"If I'd not be interrupting," said Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"Come right in. He's used to being interrupted. They don't give him +five minutes to himself all day long—especially now that the +campaign's on. He always does his serious work very early in the +morning." +</P> + +<P> +They went through a hall, pleasantly odorous of baking in which good +flour and good butter and good eggs were being manufactured into +something probably appetizing, certainly wholesome. Jane caught a +glimpse through open doors on either side of a neat and reposeful +little library-sitting room, a plain delightfully simple little +bedroom, a kitchen where everything shone. She arrived at the rear +door somehow depressed, bereft of the feeling of upper-class +superiority which had, perhaps unconsciously, possessed her as she came +toward the house. At the far end of an arbor on which the grape vines +were so trellised that their broad leaves cast a perfect shade, sat +Victor writing at a table under a tree. He was in his shirt sleeves, +and his shirt was open at the throat. His skin was smooth and +healthily white below the collar line. The forearms exposed by his +rolled up sleeves were strong but slender, and the faint fair hair upon +them suggested a man, but not an animal. +</P> + +<P> +Never had she seen his face and head so fine. He was writing rapidly, +his body easily erect, his head and neck in a poise of grace and +strength. Jane grew pale and trembled—so much so that she was afraid +the keen, friendly eyes of Alice Sherrill were seeing. Said Mrs. +Sherrill, raising her voice: +</P> + +<P> +"Victor—here's Miss Hastings come to see you." Then to Jane: "Excuse +me, please. I don't dare leave that kitchen long." +</P> + +<P> +She departed. Jane waited while Victor, his pencil reluctantly +slackening and his glance lingeringly rising from the paper, came back +to sense of his surroundings. He stared at her blankly, then colored a +little. He rose—stiff, for him formal. Said he: +</P> + +<P> +"How d'you do, Miss Hastings?" +</P> + +<P> +She came down the arbor, recovering her assurance as she again became +conscious of herself, so charmingly dressed and no doubt beautiful in +his eyes. "I know you're not glad to see me," said she. "But I'm only +stopping a very little minute." +</P> + +<P> +His eyes had softened—softened under the influence of the emotion no +man can ever fail to feel at least in some degree at sight of a lovely +woman. "Won't you sit?" said he, with a glance at the wooden chair +near the other side of the table. +</P> + +<P> +She seated herself, resting one gloved hand on the prettily carved end +of her white-sunshade. She was wearing a big hat of rough black straw, +with a few very gorgeous white plumes. "What a delightful place to +work," exclaimed she, looking round, admiring the flowers, the slow +ripening grapes, the delicious shade. "And you—how WELL you look!" +</P> + +<P> +"I've forgotten I was ever anything but well," said he. +</P> + +<P> +"You're impatient for me to go," she cried laughing. "It's very rude +to show it so plainly." +</P> + +<P> +"No," replied he. "I am not impatient for you to go. But I ought to +be, for I'm very busy." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I shall be gone in a moment. I came only to tell you that you +are suspecting me wrongly." +</P> + +<P> +"Suspecting you?—of what?" +</P> + +<P> +"Of having broken my word. I know you must think I got father to set +Davy Hull on to upsetting your plans." +</P> + +<P> +"The idea never entered my head," said he. "You had promised—and I +know you are honest." +</P> + +<P> +Jane colored violently and lowered her eyes. "I'm not—not up to what +you say," she protested. "But at least I didn't break my promise. +Davy thought of that himself." +</P> + +<P> +"I have been assuming so." +</P> + +<P> +"And you didn't suspect me?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not for an instant," Victor assured her. "Davy simply made the move +that was obviously best for him." +</P> + +<P> +"And now he will be elected," said Jane regretfully. +</P> + +<P> +"It looks that way," replied Victor. And he had the air of one who has +nothing more to say. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly Jane looked at him with eyes shining and full of appeal. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't send me away so quickly," she pleaded. "I've not been telling +the exact truth. I came only partly because I feared you were +suspecting me. The real reason was that—that I couldn't stay away any +longer. I know you're not in the least interested in me——" +</P> + +<P> +She was watching him narrowly for signs of contradiction. She hoped +she had not watched in vain. +</P> + +<P> +"Why should you be?" she went on. "But ever since you opened my eyes +and set me to thinking, I can do nothing but think about the things you +have said to me, and long to come to you and ask you questions and hear +more." +</P> + +<P> +Victor was staring hard into the wall of foliage. His face was set. +She thought she had never seen anything so resolute, so repelling as +the curve of his long jaw bone. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll go now," she said, making a pretended move toward rising. +</P> + +<P> +"I've no right to annoy you." +</P> + +<P> +He stood up abruptly, without looking at her. "Yes, you'd better go," +he said curtly. +</P> + +<P> +She quivered—and it was with a pang of genuine pain. +</P> + +<P> +His gaze was not so far from her as it seemed. For he must have noted +her expression, since he said hurriedly: "I beg your pardon. It isn't +that I mean to be rude. I—I—it is best that I do not see you." +</P> + +<P> +She sank back in the chair with a sigh. "And I—I know that I ought to +keep away from you. But—I can't. It's too strong for me." +</P> + +<P> +He looked at her slowly. "I have made up my mind to put you out of my +head," he said. "And I shall." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't!" she cried. "Victor—don't!" +</P> + +<P> +He sat again, rested his forearms upon the table, leaned toward her. +"Look at me," he said. +</P> + +<P> +She slowly lifted her gaze to his, met it steadily. "I thought so, +Victor," she said tenderly. "I knew I couldn't care so much unless you +cared at least a little ." +</P> + +<P> +"Do I?" said he. "I don't know. I doubt if either of us is in love +with the other. Certainly, you are not the sort of woman I could +love—deeply love. What I feel for you is the sort of thing that +passes. It is violent while it lasts, but it passes." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't care!" cried she recklessly. "Whatever it is I want it!" +</P> + +<P> +He shook his head resolutely. "No," he said. "You don't want it, and +I don't want it. I know the kind of life you've mapped out for +yourself—as far as women of your class map out anything. It's the only +kind of life possible to you. And it's of a kind with which I could, +and would, have nothing to do." +</P> + +<P> +"Why do you say that?" protested she. "You could make of me what you +pleased." +</P> + +<P> +"No," said he. "I couldn't make a suit of overalls out of a length of +silk. Anyhow, I have made up my life with love and marriage left out. +They are excellent things for some people, for most people. But not +for me. I must be free, absolutely free. Free to think only of the +cause I've enlisted in, free to do what it commands." +</P> + +<P> +"And I?" she said with tremendous life. "What is to become of me, +Victor?" +</P> + +<P> +He laughed quietly. "You are going to keep away from me—find some one +else to amuse your leisure. That's what's going to become of you, Jane +Hastings." +</P> + +<P> +She winced and quivered again. "That—hurts," she said. +</P> + +<P> +"Your vanity? Yes. I suppose it does. But those wounds are +healthful—when the person is as sensible as you are." +</P> + +<P> +"You think I am not capable of caring! You think I am vain and shallow +and idle. You refuse me all right to live, simply because I happen to +live in surroundings you don't approve of." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not such an egotistical ass as to imagine a woman of your sort +could be genuinely in love with a man of my sort," replied he. "So, +I'll see to it that we keep away from each other. I don't wish to be +tempted to do you mischief." +</P> + +<P> +She looked at him inquiringly. +</P> + +<P> +But he did not explain. He said: "And you are going now. And we +shall not meet again except by accident." +</P> + +<P> +She gave a sigh of hopelessness. "I suppose I have lowered myself in +your eyes by being so frank—by showing and speaking what I felt," she +said mournfully. +</P> + +<P> +"Not in the least," rejoined he. "A man who is anybody or has anything +soon gets used to frankness in women. I could hardly have gotten past +thirty, in a more or less conspicuous position, without having had some +experience.... and without learning not to attach too much importance +to—to frankness in women." +</P> + +<P> +She winced again. "You wouldn't say those things if you knew how they +hurt," she said. "If I didn't care for you, could I sit here and let +you laugh at me?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, you could," answered he. "Hoping somehow or other to turn the +laugh upon me later on. But really I was not laughing at you. And you +can spare yourself the effort of convincing me that you're sincere." +He was frankly laughing at her now. "You don't understand the +situation—not at all. You fancy that I am hanging back because I am +overwhelmed or shy or timid. I assure you I've never been shy or timid +about anything I wanted. If I wanted you—I'd—TAKE you." +</P> + +<P> +She caught her breath and shrank. Looking at him as he said that, +calmly and confidently, she, for the first time, was in love—and was +afraid. Back to her came Selma's warnings: "One may not trifle with +love. A woman conquers only by surrender." +</P> + +<P> +"But, as I said to you a while ago," he went on, "I don't want you—or +any woman. I've no time for marriage—no time for a flirtation. And +though you tempt me strongly, I like you too well to—to treat you as +you invite." +</P> + +<P> +Jane sat motionless, stunned by the sudden turning of the tables. +</P> + +<P> +She who had come to conquer—to amuse herself, to evoke a strong, +hopeless passion that would give her a delightful sense of warmth as +she stood safely by its bright flames—she had been conquered. +</P> + +<P> +She belonged to this man; all he had to do was to claim her. +</P> + +<P> +In a low voice, sweet and sincere beyond any that had ever come from +her lips before, she said: +</P> + +<P> +"Anything, Victor—anything—but don't send me away." +</P> + +<P> +And he, seeing and hearing, lost his boasted self-control. "Go—go," he +cried harshly. "If you don't go——" He came round the table, seizing +her as she rose, kissed her upon the lips, upon the eyes. "You are +lovely—lovely!" he murmured. "And I who can't have flowers on my table +or in sight when I've got anything serious to do—I love your perfume +and your color and the wonderful softness of you——" +</P> + +<P> +He pushed her away. "Now—will you go?" he cried. +</P> + +<P> +His eyes were flashing. And she was trembling from head to foot. +</P> + +<P> +She was gazing at him with a fascinated expression. "I understand what +you meant when you warned me to go," she said. "I didn't believe it, +but it was so." +</P> + +<P> +"Go—I tell you!" he ordered. +</P> + +<P> +"It's too late," said she. "You can't send me away now—for you have +kissed me. If I'm in your power, you're in my power, too." +</P> + +<P> +Moved by the same impulse both looked up the arbor toward the rear door +of the house. There stood Selma Gordon, regarding them with an +expression of anger as wild as the blood of the steppes that flowed in +her veins. Victor, with what composure he could master, put out his +hand in farewell to Jane. He had been too absorbed in the emotions +raging between him and her to note Selma's expression. But Jane, the +woman, had seen. As she shook hands with Victor, she said neither high +nor low: +</P> + +<P> +"Selma knows that I care. I told her the night of the riot." +</P> + +<P> +"Good-by," said Victor in a tone she thought it wise not to dispute. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll be in the woods above the park at ten tomorrow," she said in an +undertone. Then to Selma, unsmilingly: "You're not interrupting. I'm +going." Selma advanced. The two girls looked frank hostility into +each other's eyes. Jane did not try to shake hands with her. With a +nod and a forced smile of conventional friendliness upon her lips, she +passed her and went through the house and into the street. +</P> + +<P> +She lingered at the gate, opening and closing it in a most leisurely +fashion—a significantly different exit from her furtive and ashamed +entrance. Love and revolt were running high and hot in her veins. She +longed openly to defy the world—her world. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap07"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +VII +</H3> + +<P> +Impulse was the dominant strain in Selma Gordon's character—impulse +and frankness. But she was afraid of Victor Dorn as we all are afraid +of those we deeply respect—those whose respect is the mainstay of our +self-confidence. She was moving toward him to pour out the violence +that was raging in her on the subject of this flirtation of Jane +Hastings. The spectacle of a useless and insincere creature like that +trifling with her deity, and being permitted to trifle, was more than +she could endure. But Victor, dropping listlessly to his chair and +reaching for his pencil, was somehow a check upon her impetuousness. +She paused long enough to think the sobering second thought. To speak +would be both an impertinence and a folly. She owed it to the cause +and to her friend Victor to speak; but to speak at the wrong time and +in the wrong way would be worse than silence. +</P> + +<P> +Said he: "I was finishing this when she came. I'll be done in a +minute. Please read what I've written and tell me what you think." +</P> + +<P> +Selma took up the loose sheets of manuscript and stood reading his +inaugural of the new New Day. As she read she forgot the petty matter +that had so agitated her a moment before. This salutatory—this +address to the working class—this plan of a campaign to take Remsen +City out of the hands of its exploiters and despoilers and make it a +city fit for civilized residence and worthy of its population of +intelligent, progressive workingmen—this leading editorial for the +first number was Victor Dorn at his greatest and best. The man of +action with all the enthusiasm of a dreamer. The shrewd, practical +politician with the outlook of a statesman. How honest and impassioned +he was; yet how free from folly and cant. Several times as she read +Selma lifted her eyes to look at him in generous, worshipful +admiration. She would not have dared let him see; she would not have +dared speak the phrases of adoration of his genius that crowded to her +lips. How he would have laughed at her—he who thought about himself +as a personality not at all, but only as an instrument. +</P> + +<P> +"Here's the rest of it," said he, throwing himself back in his chair +and relighting his pipe. +</P> + +<P> +She finished a moment later, said as she laid the manuscript on the +table: "That's the best you've ever done." +</P> + +<P> +"I think so," agreed he. "It seems to me I've got a new grip on +things. I needed a turn such as your friend Davy Hull gave me. +Nothing like rivalry to spur a man on. The old crowd was so +stupid—cunning, but stupid. But Hull injects a new element into the +struggle. To beat him we've got to use our best brains." +</P> + +<P> +"We've got to attack him," said Selma. "After all, he is the enemy. +We can't let him disarm us by an act of justice." +</P> + +<P> +"No, indeed," said Victor. "But we'll have to be careful. Here's what +I'm going to carry on the first page." +</P> + +<P> +He held up a sheet of paper on which he had written with a view to +effective display the names of the four most offensive local +corporations with their contribution—$25,000 each—to the campaign +fund of the Citizens' Alliance. "Under it, in big type," proceeded he, +"we'll carry a line asking, 'Is the Citizens' Alliance fooling these +four corporations or is it fooling the people?' I think that will be +more effective than columns of attack." +</P> + +<P> +"We ought to get that out on wall-bills and dodgers," suggested Selma, +"and deluge the town with it once or twice a week until election." +</P> + +<P> +"Splendid!" exclaimed Victor. "I'll make a practical politician of you +yet." +</P> + +<P> +Colman and Harbinger and Jocelyn and several others of the League +leaders came in one at a time, and the plan of campaign was developed +in detail. But the force they chiefly relied upon was the influence of +their twelve hundred men, their four or five thousand women and young +men and girls, talking every day and evening, each man or woman or +youth with those with whom he came into contact. This "army of +education" was disciplined, was educated, knew just what arguments to +use, had been cautioned against disputes, against arousing foolish +antagonisms. The League had nothing to conceal, no object to gain but +the government of Remsen City by and for its citizens—well paved, well +lighted, clean streets, sanitary houses, good and clean street car +service, honest gas, pure water, plenty of good schools—that first of +all. The "reform crowd"—the Citizens' Alliance—like every reform +party of the past, proposed to do practically the same things. But the +League met this with: "Why should we elect an upper class government to +do for us what we ought to do for ourselves? And how can they redeem +their promises when they are tied up in a hundred ways to the very +people who have been robbing and cheating us?" +</P> + +<P> +There were to be issues of the New Day; there were to be posters and +dodgers, public meetings in halls, in squares, on street corners. But +the main reliance now as always was this educated "army of +education"—these six thousand missionaries, each one of them in +resolute earnest and bent upon converting his neighbors on either side, +and across the street as well. A large part of the time the leaders +could spare from making a living was spent in working at this army, in +teaching it new arguments or better ways of presenting old arguments, +in giving the enthusiasm, in talking with each individual soldier of it +and raising his standard of efficiency. Nor could the employers of +these soldiers of Victor Dorn's complain that they shirked their work +for politics. It was a fact that could not be denied that the members +of the Workingmen's League were far and away the best workers in Remsen +City, got the best pay, and earned it, drank less, took fewer days off +on account of sickness. One of the sneers of the Kelly-House gang was +that "those Dorn cranks think they are aristocrats, a little better +than us common, ordinary laboring men." And the sneer was not without +effect. The truth was, Dorn and his associates had not picked out the +best of the working class and drawn it into the League, but had made +those who joined the League better workers, better family men, better +citizens. +</P> + +<P> +"We are saying that the working class ought to run things," Dorn said +again and again in his talks, public and private. "Then, we've got to +show the community that we're fit to run things. That is why the +League expels any man who shirks or is a drunkard or a crook or a bad +husband and father." +</P> + +<P> +The great fight of the League—the fight that was keeping it from +power—was with the trades unions, which were run by secret agents of +the Kelly-House oligarchy. Kelly and the Republican party rather +favored "open shop" or "scab" labor—the right of an American to let +his labor to whom he pleased on what terms he pleased. The Kelly +orators waxed almost tearful as they contemplated the outrage of any +interference with the ancient liberty of the American citizen. Kelly +disguised as House was a hot union man. He loathed the "scab." He +jeered at the idea that a laborer ought to be at the mercy of the +powerful employer who could dictate his own terms, which the laborers +might not refuse under stress of hunger. Thus the larger part of the +"free" labor in Remsen City voted with Kelly—was bought by him at so +much a head. The only organization it had was under the Kelly district +captains. Union labor was almost solidly Democratic—except in +Presidential elections, when it usually divided on the tariff question. +</P> + +<P> +Although almost all the Leaguers were members of the unions, Kelly and +House saw to it that they had no influence in union councils. That is, +until recently Kelly-House had been able to accomplish this. But they +were seeing the approaching end of their domination. The "army of +education" was proving too powerful for them. And they felt that at +the coming election the decline of their power would be +apparent—unless something drastic were done. +</P> + +<P> +They had attempted it in the riot. The riot had been a fizzle—thanks +to the interposition of the personal ambition of the until then +despised "holy boy," David Hull. Kelly, the shrewd, at once saw the +mark of the man of force. He resolved that Hull should be elected. He +had intended simply to use him to elect Hugo Galland judge and to split +up the rest of the tickets in such a way that some Leaguers and some +reformers would get in, would be powerless, would bring discredit and +ridicule upon their parties. But Hull was a man who could be useful; +his cleverness in upsetting the plot against Dorn and turning all to +his advantage demonstrated that. Therefore, Hull should be elected and +passed up higher. It did not enter his calculations that Hull might +prove refractory, might really be all that he professed; he had talked +with Davy, and while he had underestimated his intelligence, he knew he +had not misjudged his character. He knew that it was as easy to "deal" +with the Hull stripe of honest, high minded men as it was difficult to +"deal" with the Victor Dorn stripe. Hull he called a "sensible +fellow"; Victor Dorn he called a crank. But—he respected Dorn, while +Hull he held in much such esteem as he held his cigar-holder and pocket +knife, or Tony Rivers and Joe House. +</P> + +<P> +When Victor Dorn had first begun to educate and organize the people of +Remsen City, the boss industry was in its early form. That is, Kelly +and House were really rivals in the collecting of big campaign funds by +various forms of blackmail, in struggling for offices for themselves +and their followers, in levying upon vice and crime through the police. +In these ways they made the money, the lion's share of which naturally +fell to them as leaders, as organizers of plunder. But that stage had +now passed in Remsen City as it had passed elsewhere, and the boss +industry had taken a form far more difficult to combat. Kelly and +House no longer especially cared whether Republican party or Democratic +won. Their business—their source of revenue—had ceased to be through +carrying elections, had become a matter of skill in keeping the people +more or less evenly divided between the two "regular" parties, with an +occasional fake third party to discourage and bring into contempt +reform movers and to make the people say, "Well, bad as they are, at +least the regulars aren't addle-headed, damn fools doing nothing except +to make business bad." Both Kelly and House were supported and +enriched by the corporations and by big public contracting companies +and by real estate deals. Kelly still appropriated a large part of the +"campaign fund." House, in addition, took a share of the money raised +by the police from dives. But these sums were but a small part of +their income, were merely pin money for their wives and children. +</P> + +<P> +Yet—at heart and in all sincerity Kelly was an ardent Republican and +House was a ferocious Democrat. If you had asked either what +Republican and Democrat meant he would have been as vague and +unsatisfactory in his reply as would have been any of his followers +bearing torch and oilcloth cape in political processions, with no hope +of gain—beyond the exquisite pleasure of making a shouting ass of +himself in the most public manner. But for all that, Kelly was a +Republican and House a Democrat. It is not a strange, though it is a +profoundly mysterious, phenomenon, that of the priest who arranges the +trick mechanism of the god, yet being a devout believer, ready to die +for his "faith." +</P> + +<P> +Difficult though the task was of showing the average Remsen City man +that Republican and Democrat, Kelly and House, were one and the same +thing, and that thing a blood-sucking, blood-heavy leech upon his +veins—difficult though this task was, Victor Dorn knew that he had +about accomplished it, when David Hull appeared. A new personality; a +plausible personality, deceptive because self-deceiving—yet not so +thoroughly self-deceived that it was in danger of hindering its own +ambition. David Hull—just the kind of respectable, popular figurehead +and cloak the desperate Kelly-House conspiracy needed. +</P> + +<P> +How far had the "army of education" prepared the people for seeing +through this clever new fraud upon them? Victor Dorn could not judge. +He hoped for the best; he was prepared for the worst. +</P> + +<P> +The better to think out the various problems of the new situation, +complicated by his apparent debt of gratitude to Davy, Victor went +forth into the woods very early the next morning. He wandered far, but +ten o'clock found him walking in the path in the strip of woods near +the high road along the upper side of the park. And when Jane Hastings +appeared, he was standing looking in the direction from which she would +have to come. It was significant of her state of mind that she had +given small attention to her dress that morning. Nor was she looking +her best in expression or in color. Her eyes and her skin suggested an +almost sleepless night. +</P> + +<P> +He did not advance. She came rapidly as if eager to get over that +embarrassing space in which each could see the other, yet neither could +speak without raising the voice. When she was near she said: +</P> + +<P> +"You think you owe something to Davy Hull for what he did?" +</P> + +<P> +"The people think so," said he. "And that's the important thing." +</P> + +<P> +"Well—you owe him nothing," pursued she. +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing that would interfere with the cause," replied he. "And that +would be true, no matter what he had done." +</P> + +<P> +"I mean he did nothing for you," she explained. "I forgot to tell you +yesterday. The whole thing was simply a move to further his ambition. +I happened to be there when he talked with father and enlisted him." +</P> + +<P> +Victor laughed. "It was your father who put it through. I might have +known!" +</P> + +<P> +"At first I tried to interpose. Then—I stopped." She stood before +him with eyes down. "It came to me that for my own sake it would be +better that you should lose this fall. It seemed to me that if you won +you would be farther out of my reach." She paused, went steadily on: +"It was a bad feeling I had that you must not get anything except with +my help. Do you understand?" +</P> + +<P> +"Perfectly," said he cheerfully. "You are your father's own daughter." +</P> + +<P> +"I love power," said she. "And so do you. Only, being a woman, I'd +stoop to things to get it, that a man—at least your sort of man—would +scorn. Do you despise me for that? You oughtn't to. And you will +teach me better. You can make of me what you please, as I told you +yesterday. I only half meant it then. Now—it's true, through and +through." +</P> + +<P> +Victor glanced round, saw near at hand the bench he was seeking. "Let's +sit down here," said he. "I'm rather tired. I slept little and I've +been walking all morning. And you look tired, also." +</P> + +<P> +"After yesterday afternoon I couldn't sleep," said she. +</P> + +<P> +When they were seated he looked at her with an expression that seemed +to say: "I have thrown open the windows of my soul. Throw open yours; +and let us look at each other as we are, and speak of things as they +are." She suddenly flung herself against his breast and as he clasped +her she said: +</P> + +<P> +"No—no! Let's not reason coldly about things, Victor. Let's +feel—let's LIVE!" +</P> + +<P> +It was several minutes—and not until they had kissed many +times—before he regained enough self-control to say: "This simply +will not do, Jane. How can we discuss things calmly? You sit +there"—he pushed her gently to one end of the bench—"and I'll sit at +this end. Now!" +</P> + +<P> +"I love you, Victor! With your arms round me I am happy—and SO +strong!" +</P> + +<P> +"With my arms round you I'm happy, I'll admit," said he. "But—oh, so +weak! I have the sense that I am doing wrong—that we are both doing +wrong." +</P> + +<P> +"Why? Aren't you free?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, I am not free. As I've told you, I belong to a cause—to a +career." +</P> + +<P> +"But I won't hinder you there. I'll help you." +</P> + +<P> +"Why go over that again? You know better—I know better." Abruptly, +"Your father—what time does he get home for dinner?" +</P> + +<P> +"He didn't go down town to-day," replied Jane. "He's not well—not at +all well." +</P> + +<P> +Victor looked baffled. "I was about to propose that we go straight to +him." +</P> + +<P> +If he had been looking at Jane, he might have seen the fleeting flash +of an expression that betrayed that she had suspected the object of his +inquiry. +</P> + +<P> +"You will not go with me to your father?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not when he is ill," said she. "If we told him, it might kill him. +He has ambitions—what he regards as ambitions—for me. He admires +you, but—he doesn't admire your ideas." +</P> + +<P> +"Then," said Victor, following his own train of thought, "we must fight +this out between ourselves. I was hoping I'd have your father to help +me. I'm sure, as soon as you faced him with me, you'd realize that +your feeling about me is largely a delusion." +</P> + +<P> +"And you?" said Jane softly. "Your feeling about me—the feeling that +made you kiss me—was that delusion?" +</P> + +<P> +"It was—just what you saw," replied he, "and nothing more. The idea of +marrying you—of living my life with you doesn't attract me in the +least. I can't see you as my wife." He looked at her impatiently. +"Have you no imagination? Can't you see that you could not change, and +become what you'd have to be if you lived with me?" +</P> + +<P> +"You can make of me what you please," repeated she with loving +obstinacy. +</P> + +<P> +"That is not sincere!" cried he. "You may think it is, but it isn't. +Look at me, Jane." +</P> + +<P> +"I haven't been doing anything else since we met," laughed she. +</P> + +<P> +"That's better," said he. "Let's not be solemn. Solemnity is pose, +and when people are posing they get nowhere. You say I can make of you +what I please. Do you mean that you are willing to become a woman of +my class—to be that all your life—to bring up your children in that +way—to give up your fashionable friends—and maid—and carriages—and +Paris clothes—to be a woman who would not make my associates and their +families uncomfortable and shy?" +</P> + +<P> +She was silent. She tried to speak, but lifting her eyes before she +began her glance encountered his and her words died upon her lips. +</P> + +<P> +"You know you did not mean that," pursued he. "Now, I'll tell you what +you did mean. You meant that after you and I were married—or +engaged—perhaps you did not intend to go quite so far as marriage just +yet." +</P> + +<P> +The color crept into her averted face. +</P> + +<P> +"Look at me!" he commanded laughingly. +</P> + +<P> +With an effort she forced her eyes to meet his. +</P> + +<P> +"Now—smile, Jane!" +</P> + +<P> +His smile was contagious. The curve of her lips changed; her eyes +gleamed. +</P> + +<P> +"Am I not reading your thoughts?" said he. +</P> + +<P> +"You are very clever, Victor," admitted she. +</P> + +<P> +"Good. We are getting on. You believed that, once we were engaged, I +would gradually begin to yield, to come round to your way of thinking. +You had planned for me a career something like Davy Hull's—only freer +and bolder. I would become a member of your class, but would pose as a +representative of the class I had personally abandoned. Am I right?" +</P> + +<P> +"Go on, Victor," she said. +</P> + +<P> +"That's about all. Now, there are just two objections to your plan. +The first is, it wouldn't work. My associates would be 'on to' me in a +very short time. They are shrewd, practical, practically educated +men—not at all the sort that follow Davy Hull or are wearing Kelly's +and House's nose rings. In a few months I'd find myself a leader +without a following—and what is more futile and ridiculous than that?" +</P> + +<P> +"They worship you," said Jane. "They trust you implicitly. They know +that whatever you did would be for their good." +</P> + +<P> +He laughed heartily. "How little you know my friends," said he. "I am +their leader only because I am working with them, doing what we all see +must be done, doing it in the way in which we all see it must be done." +</P> + +<P> +"But THAT is not power!" cried Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"No," replied Victor. "But it is the career I wish—the only one I'd +have. Power means that one's followers are weak or misled or ignorant. +To be first among equals—that's worth while. The other thing is the +poor tawdriness that kings and bosses crave and that shallow, snobbish +people admire." +</P> + +<P> +"I see that," said Jane. "At least, I begin to see it. How wonderful +you are!" +</P> + +<P> +Victor laughed. "Is it that I know so much, or is it that you know so +little?" +</P> + +<P> +"You don't like for me to tell you that I admire you?" said Jane, +subtle and ostentatiously timid. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't care much about it one way or the other," replied Victor, who +had, when he chose, a rare ability to be blunt without being rude. +"Years ago, for my own safety, I began to train myself to care little +for any praise or blame but my own, and to make myself a very searching +critic of myself. So, I am really flattered only when I win my own +praise—and I don't often have that pleasure." +</P> + +<P> +"Really, I don't see why you bother with me," said she with sly +innocence—which was as far as she dared let her resentments go. +</P> + +<P> +"For two reasons," replied he promptly. "It flatters me that you are +interested in me. The second reason is that, when I lost control of +myself yesterday, I involved myself in certain responsibilities to you. +It has seemed to me that I owe it to myself and to you to make you see +that there is neither present nor future in any relations between us." +</P> + +<P> +She put out her hand, and before he knew what he was doing he had +clasped it. With a gentle, triumphant smile she said: "THERE'S the +answer to all your reasoning, Victor." +</P> + +<P> +He released her hand. "AN answer," he said, "but not the correct +answer." He eyed her thoughtfully. "You have done me a great +service," he went on. "You have shown me an unsuspected, a dangerous +weakness in myself. At another time—and coming in another way, I +might have made a mess of my career—and of the things that have been +entrusted to me." A long pause, then he added, to himself rather than +to her, "I must look out for that. I must do something about it." +</P> + +<P> +Jane turned toward him and settled herself in a resolute attitude and +with a resolute expression. "Victor," she said, "I've listened to you +very patiently. Now I want you to listen to me. What is the truth +about us? Why, that we are as if we had been made for each other. I +don't know as much as you do. I've led a much narrower life. I've +been absurdly mis-educated. But as soon as I saw you I felt that I had +found the man I was looking for. And I believe—I feel—I KNOW you +were drawn to me in the same way. Isn't that so?" +</P> + +<P> +"You—fascinated me," confessed he. "You—or your clothes—or your +perfume." +</P> + +<P> +"Explain it as you like," said she. "The fact remains that we were +drawn together. Well—Victor, <I>I</I> am not afraid to face the future, as +fate maps it out for us. Are you?" +</P> + +<P> +He did not answer. +</P> + +<P> +"You—AFRAID," she went on. "No—you couldn't be afraid." +</P> + +<P> +A long silence. Then he said abruptly: "IF we loved each other. But +I know that we don't. I know that you would hate me when you realized +that you couldn't move me. And I know that I should soon get over the +infatuation for you. As soon as it became a question of +sympathies—common tastes—congeniality—I'd find you hopelessly +lacking." +</P> + +<P> +She felt that he was contrasting her with some one else—with a certain +some one. And she veiled her eyes to hide their blazing jealousy. A +movement on his part made her raise them in sudden alarm. He had +risen. His expression told her that the battle was lost—for the day. +Never had she loved him as at that moment, and never had longing to +possess him so dominated her willful, self-indulgent, spoiled nature. +Yet she hated him, too; she longed to crush him, to make him suffer—to +repay him with interest for the suffering he was inflicting upon +her—the humiliation. But she dared not show her feelings. It would +be idle to try upon this man any of the coquetries indicated for such +cases—to dismiss him coldly, or to make an appeal through an +exhibition of weakness or reckless passion. +</P> + +<P> +"You will see the truth, for yourself, as you think things over," said +he. +</P> + +<P> +She rose, stood before him with downcast eyes, with mouth sad and +sweet. "No," she said, "It's you who are hiding the truth from +yourself. I hope—for both our sakes—that you'll see it before long. +Good-by—dear." She stretched out her hand. +</P> + +<P> +Hesitatingly he took it. As their hands met, her pulse beating against +his, she lifted her eyes. And once more he was holding her close, was +kissing her. And she was lying in his arms unresisting, with two large +tears shining in the long lashes of her closed eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Jane—forgive me!" he cried, releasing her. "I must keep away +from you. I will—I WILL!" And he was rushing down the steep +slope—direct, swift, relentless. But she, looking after him with a +tender, dreamy smile, murmured: "He loves me. He will come again. If +not—I'll go and get him!" +</P> + +<P> +</P> + +<P> +To Jane Victor Dorn's analysis of his feeling toward her and of the +reasons against yielding to it seemed of no importance whatever. Side +by side with Selma's "One may not trifle with love" she would have put +"In matters of love one does not reason," as equally axiomatic. Victor +was simply talking; love would conquer him as it had conquered every +man and every woman it had ever entered. Love—blind, unreasoning, +irresistible—would have its will and its way. +</P> + +<P> +And about most men she would have been right—about any man +practically, of the preceding generation. But Victor represented a new +type of human being—the type into whose life reason enters not merely +as a theoretical force, to be consulted and disregarded, but as an +authority, a powerful influence, dominant in all crucial matters. Only +in our own time has science begun to make a notable impression upon the +fog which formerly lay over the whole human mind, thicker here, thinner +there, a mere haze yonder, but present everywhere. This fog made clear +vision impossible, usually made seeing of any kind difficult; there was +no such thing as finding a distinct line between truth and error as to +any subject. And reason seemed almost as faulty a guide as +feeling—was by many regarded as more faulty, not without justification. +</P> + +<P> +But nowadays for some of us there are clear or almost clear horizons, +and such fog banks as there are conceal from them nothing that is of +importance in shaping a rational course of life. Victor Dorn was one +of these emancipated few. All successful men form their lives upon a +system of some kind. Even those who seem to live at haphazard, like +the multitude, prove to have chart and compass and definite port in +objective when their conduct is more attentively examined. Victor +Dorn's system was as perfect as it was simple, and he held himself to +it as rigidly as the father superior of a Trappist monastery holds his +monks to their routine. Also, Victor had learned to know and to be on +guard against those two arch-enemies of the man who wishes to "get +somewhere"—self-excuse and optimism. He had got a good strong leash +upon his vanity—and a muzzle, too. When things went wrong he +instantly blamed HIMSELF, and did not rest until he had ferreted out +the stupidity or folly of which HE had been guilty. He did not grieve +over his failures; he held severely scientific post mortems upon them +to discover the reason why—in order that there should not again be +that particular kind of failure at least. Then, as to the other +arch-enemy, optimism, he simply cut himself off from indulgence in it. +He worked for success; he assumed failure. He taught himself to care +nothing about success, but only about doing as intelligently and as +thoroughly as he could the thing next at hand. +</P> + +<P> +What has all this to do with his infatuation for Jane? It serves to +show not only why the Workingmen's League was growing like a plague of +gypsy moth, but also why Victor Dorn was not the man to be conquered by +passion. Naturally, Jane, who had only the vaguest conception of the +size and power of Victor Dorn's mind, could not comprehend wherein lay +the difference between him and the men she read about in novels or met +in her wanderings among the people of her own class in various parts of +the earth. It is possible for even the humblest of us to understand +genius, just as it is possible to view a mountain from all sides and +get a clear idea of it bulk and its dominion. But the hasty traveler +contents himself with a glance, a "How superb," and a quick passing on; +and most of us are hasty travelers in the scenic land of +intellectuality. Jane saw that he was a great man. But she was +deceived by his frankness and his simplicity. She evoked in him only +the emotional side of his nature, only one part of that. +</P> + +<P> +Because it—the only phase of him she attentively examined—was so +impressive, she assumed that it was the chief feature of the man. +</P> + +<P> +Also, young and inexperienced women—and women not so young, and with +opportunity to become less inexperienced but without the ability to +learn by experience—always exaggerate the importance of passion. +Almost without exception, it is by way of passion that a man and a +woman approach each other. It is, of necessity, the exterior that +first comes into view. Thus, all that youth and inexperience can know +about love is its aspect of passion. Because Jane had again and again +in her five grown-up years experienced men falling passionately in love +with her, she fancied she was an expert in matters of love. In fact, +she had still everything to learn. +</P> + +<P> +On the way home she, assuming that the affair was as good as settled, +that she and Victor Dorn were lovers, was busy with plans for the +future. Victor Dorn had made a shrewd guess at the state of her mind. +She had no intention of allowing him to pursue his present career. +That was merely foundation. With the aid of her love and council, and +of her father's money and influence, he—he and she—would mount to +something really worth while—something more than the petty politics of +a third rate city in the West. Washington was the proper arena for his +talents; they would take the shortest route to Washington. No trouble +about bringing him around; a man so able and so sensible as he would +not refuse the opportunity to do good on a grand scale. Besides—he +must be got away from his family, from these doubtless good and kind +but certainly not very high class associates of his, and from Selma +Gordon. The idea of his comparing HER with Selma Gordon! He had not +done so aloud, but she knew what was in his mind. Yes, he must be +taken far away from all these provincial and narrowing associations. +</P> + +<P> +But all this was mere detail. The big problem was how to bring her +father round. He couldn't realize what Victor Dorn would be after she +had taken him in hand. He would see only Victor Dorn, the labor +agitator of Remsen City, the nuisance who put mischievous motives into +the heads of "the hands"—the man who made them think they had heads +when they were intended by the Almighty to be simply hands. How +reconcile him to the idea of accepting this nuisance, this poor, +common member of the working class as a son-in-law, as the husband of +the daughter he wished to see married to some one of the "best" +families? +</P> + +<P> +On the face of it, the thing was impossible. Why, then, did not Jane +despair? For two reasons. In the first place, she was in love, and +that made her an optimist. Somehow love would find the way. But the +second reason—the one she hid from herself deep in the darkest +sub-cellar of her mind, was the real reason. It is one matter to wish +for a person's death. Only a villainous nature can harbor such a wish, +can admit it except as a hastily and slyly in-crawling impulse, to be +flung out the instant it is discovered. It is another matter to +calculate—very secretly, very unconsciously—upon a death that seems +inevitable anyhow. Jane had only to look at her father to feel that he +would not be spared to her long. The mystery was how he had kept alive +so long, how he continued to live from day to day. His stomach was +gone; his whole digestive apparatus was in utter disorder. His body +had shriveled until he weighed no more than a baby. His pulse was so +feeble that even in the hot weather he complained of the cold and had +to be wrapped in the heaviest winter garments. Yet he lived on, and his +mind worked with undiminished vigor. +</P> + +<P> +When Jane reached home, the old man was sitting on the veranda in the +full sun. On his huge head was a fur cap pulled well down over his +ears and intensifying the mortuary, skull-like appearance of his face. +Over his ulster was an old-fashioned Scotch shawl such as men used to +wear in the days before overcoats came into fashion. About his wasted +legs was wrapped a carriage robe, and she knew that there was a +hot-water bag under his feet. Beside him sat young Doctor Charlton, +whom Jane had at last succeeded in inducing her father to try. +Charlton did not look or smell like a doctor. He rather suggested a +professional athlete, perhaps a better class prize fighter. The +weazened old financier was gazing at him with a fascinated +expression—admiring, envious, amused. +</P> + +<P> +Charlton was saying: +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, you do look like a dead one. But that's only another of your +tricks for fooling people. You'll live a dozen years unless you commit +suicide. A dozen years? Probably twenty." +</P> + +<P> +"You ought to be ashamed to make sport of a poor old invalid," said +Hastings with a grin. +</P> + +<P> +"Any man who could stand a lunch of crackers and milk for ten years +could outlive anything," retorted Charlton. "No, you belong to the old +stock. You used to see 'em around when you were a boy. They usually +coughed and wheezed, and every time they did it, the family used to get +ready to send for the undertaker. But they lived on and on. When did +your mother die?" +</P> + +<P> +"Couple of years ago," said Hastings. +</P> + +<P> +"And your father?" +</P> + +<P> +"He was killed by a colt he was breaking at sixty-seven." +</P> + +<P> +Charlton laughed uproariously. "If you took walks and rides instead of +always sitting round, you never would die," said he. "But you're like +lots of women I know. You'd rather die than take exercise. Still, +I've got you to stop that eating that was keeping you on the verge all +the time." +</P> + +<P> +"You're trying to starve me to death," grumbled Hastings. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you feel better, now that you've got used to it and don't feel +hungry?" +</P> + +<P> +"But I'm not getting any nourishment." +</P> + +<P> +"How would eating help you? You can't digest any more than what I'm +allowing you. Do you think you were better off when you were full of +rotting food? I guess not." +</P> + +<P> +"Well—I'm doing as you say," said the old man resignedly. +</P> + +<P> +"And if you keep it up for a year, I'll put you on a horse. If you +don't keep it up, you'll find yourself in a hearse." +</P> + +<P> +Jane stood silently by, listening with a feeling of depression which +she could not have accounted for, if she would—and would not if she +could. Not that she wished her father to die; simply that Charlton's +confidence in his long life forced her to face the only +alternative—bringing him round to accept Victor Dorn. +</P> + +<P> +At her father's next remark she began to listen with a high beating +heart. He said to Charlton: +</P> + +<P> +"How about that there friend of yours—that young Dorn? You ain't +talked about him to-day as much as usual." +</P> + +<P> +"The last time we talked about him we quarreled," said Charlton. "It's +irritating to see a man of your intelligence a slave to silly +prejudices." +</P> + +<P> +"I like Victor Dorn," replied Hastings in a most conciliatory tone. "I +think he's a fine young man. Didn't I have him up here at my house not +long ago? Jane'll tell you that I like him. She likes him, too. But +the trouble with him—and with you, too—is that you're dreaming all +the time. You don't recognize facts. And, so, you make a lot of +trouble for us conservative men." +</P> + +<P> +"Please don't use that word conservative," said Charlton. "It gags me +to hear it. YOU'RE not a conservative. If you had been you'd still be +a farm hand. You've been a radical all your life—changing things +round and round, always according to your idea of what was to your +advantage. The only difference between radicals like you robber +financiers and radicals like Victor and me is that our ideas of what's +to our advantage differ. To you life means money; to us it means +health and comfort and happiness. You want the world changed—laws +upset, liberty destroyed, wages lowered, and so on—so that you can get +all the money. We want the world changed so that we can be healthy and +comfortable and happy—securely so—which we can't be unless everybody +is, or is in the way to being." +</P> + +<P> +Jane was surprised to see that her father, instead of being offended, +was amused and pleased. He liked his new doctor so well that he liked +everything he said and did. Jane looked at Charlton in her friendliest +way. Here might be an ally, and a valuable ally. +</P> + +<P> +"Human nature doesn't change," said Hastings in the tone of a man who +is stating that which cannot be disputed. +</P> + +<P> +"The mischief it doesn't," said Charlton in prompt and vigorous +dissent. "When conditions change, human nature has to change, has to +adapt itself. What you mean is that human nature doesn't change +itself. But conditions change it. They've been changing it very +rapidly these last few years. Science—steam, electricity, a thousand +inventions and discoveries, crowding one upon another—science has +brought about entirely new and unprecedented conditions so rapidly that +the changes in human nature now making and that must be made in the +next few years are resulting in a series of convulsions. You +old-fashioned fellows—and the political parties and the +politicians—are in danger of being stranded. Leaders like Victor +Dorn—movements like our Workingmen's League—they seem new and radical +to-day. By to-morrow they'll be the commonplace thing, found +everywhere—and administering the public affairs." +</P> + +<P> +Jane was not surprised to see an expression of at least partial +admission upon her father's face. Charlton's words were of the kind +that set the imagination to work, that remind those who hear of a +thousand and one familiar related facts bearing upon the same points. +"Well," said Hastings, "I don't expect to see any radical changes in my +time." +</P> + +<P> +"Then you'll not live as long as I think," said Charlton. "We +Americans advance very slowly because this is a big country and +undeveloped, and because we shift about so much that no one stays in +one place long enough to build up a citizenship and get an education in +politics—which is nothing more or less than an education in the art of +living. But slow though we are, we do advance. You'll soon see the +last of Boss Kelly and Boss House—and of such gentle, amiable frauds +as our friend Davy Hull." +</P> + +<P> +Jane laughed merrily. "Why do you call him a fraud?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Because he is a fraud," said Charlton. "He is trying to confuse the +issue. He says the whole trouble is petty dishonesty in public life. +Bosh! The trouble is that the upper and middle classes are milking the +lower class—both with and without the aid of the various governments, +local, state and national. THAT'S the issue. And the reason it is +being forced is because the lower class, the working class, is slowly +awakening to the truth. When it completely awakens——" Charlton made +a large gesture and laughed. +</P> + +<P> +"What then?" said Hastings. +</P> + +<P> +"The end of the upper and the middle classes. Everybody will have to +work for a living." +</P> + +<P> +"Who's going to be elected this fall?" asked Jane. "Your man?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said Doctor Charlton. "Victor Dorn thinks not. But he always +takes the gloomy view. And he doesn't meet and talk with the fellows +on the other side, as I do." +</P> + +<P> +Hastings was looking out from under the vizor of his cap with a +peculiar grin. It changed to a look of startled inquiry as Charlton +went on to say: +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, we'll win. But the Davy Hull gang will get the offices." +</P> + +<P> +"Why do you think that?" asked old Hastings sharply. +</P> + +<P> +Charlton eyed his patient with a mocking smile. "You didn't think any +one knew but you and Kelly—did you?" laughed he. +</P> + +<P> +"Knew what?" demanded Hastings, with a blank stare. +</P> + +<P> +"No matter," said Charlton. "I know what you intend to do. Well, +you'll get away with the goods. But you'll wish you hadn't. You +old-fashioned fellows, as I've been telling you, don't realize that +times have changed." +</P> + +<P> +"Do you mean, Doctor, that the election is to be stolen away from you?" +inquired Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"Was that what I meant, Mr. Hastings?" said Charlton. +</P> + +<P> +"The side that loses always shouts thief at the side that wins," said +the old man indifferently. "I don't take any interest in politics." +</P> + +<P> +"Why should you?" said the Doctor audaciously. "You own both sides. +So, it's heads you win, tails I lose." +</P> + +<P> +Hastings laughed heartily. "Them political fellows are a lot of +blackmailers," said he. +</P> + +<P> +"That's ungrateful," said Charlton. "Still, I don't blame you for +liking the Davy Hull crowd better. From them you can get what you want +just the same, only you don't have to pay for it." +</P> + +<P> +He rose and stretched his big frame, with a disregard of conventional +good manners so unconscious that it was inoffensive. +</P> + +<P> +But Charlton had a code of manners of his own, and somehow it seemed to +suit him where the conventional code would have made him seem cheap. +"I didn't mean to look after your political welfare, too," said he. +"But I'll make no charge for that." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I like to hear you young fellows talk," said Martin. "You'll sing +a different song when you're as old as I am and have found out what a +lot of damn fools the human race is." +</P> + +<P> +"As I told you before," said Charlton, "it's conditions that make the +human animal whatever it is. It's in the harness of conditions—the +treadmill of conditions—the straight jacket of conditions. Change the +conditions and you change the animal." +</P> + +<P> +When he was swinging his big powerful form across the lawns toward the +fringe of woods, Jane and her father looking after him, Jane said: +</P> + +<P> +"He's wonderfully clever, isn't he?" +</P> + +<P> +"A dreamer—a crank," replied the old man. +</P> + +<P> +"But what he says sounds reasonable," suggested the daughter. +</P> + +<P> +"It SOUNDS sensible," admitted the old man peevishly. "But it ain't +what <I>I</I> was brought up to call sensible. Don't you get none of those +fool ideas into your head. They're all very well for men that haven't +got any property or any responsibilities—for flighty fellows like +Charlton and that there Victor Dorn. But as soon as anybody gets +property and has interests to look after, he drops that kind of talk." +</P> + +<P> +"Do you mean that property makes a man too blind or too cowardly to +speak the truth?" asked Jane with an air of great innocence. +</P> + +<P> +The old man either did not hear or had no answer ready. He said: +</P> + +<P> +"You heard him say that Davy Hull was going to win?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why, he said Victor Dorn was going to win," said Jane, still simple +and guileless. +</P> + +<P> +Hastings frowned impatiently. "That was just loose talk. He admitted +Davy was to be the next mayor. If he is—and I expect Charlton was +about right—if Davy is elected, I shouldn't be surprised to see him +nominated for governor next year. He's a sensible, knowing fellow. +He'll make a good mayor, and he'll be elected governor on his record." +</P> + +<P> +"And on what you and the other men who run things will do for him," +suggested Jane slyly. +</P> + +<P> +Her father grinned expressively. "I like to see a sensible, ambitious +young fellow from my town get on," said he. "And I'd like to see my +girl married to a fellow of that sort, and settled." +</P> + +<P> +"I think more could be done with a man like Victor Dorn," said Jane. +"It seems to me the Davy Hull sort of politics is—is about played out. +Don't you think so?" +</P> + +<P> +Jane felt that her remark was a piece of wild audacity. But she was +desperate. To her amazement her father did not flare up but kept +silent, wearing the look she knew meant profound reflection. +</P> + +<P> +After a moment he said: +</P> + +<P> +"Davy's a knowing boy. He showed that the other day when he jumped in +and made himself a popular hero. He'd never 'a' been able to come +anywheres near election but for that. Dorn'd 'a' won by a vote so big +that Dick Kelly wouldn't 'a' dared even try to count him out.... +Dorn's a better man than Davy. But Dorn's got a foolish streak in him. +He believes the foolishness he talks, instead of simply talking it to +gain his end. I've been looking him over and thinking him over. He +won't do, Jinny." +</P> + +<P> +Was her father discussing the matter abstractly, impersonally, as he +seemed? Or, had he with that uncanny shrewdness of his somehow +penetrated to her secret—or to a suspicion of it? Jane was so +agitated that she sat silent and rigid, trying to look unconcerned. +</P> + +<P> +"I had a strong notion to try to do something for him," continued the +old man. "But it'd be no use. He'd not rise to a chance that was +offered him. He's set on going his own way." +</P> + +<P> +Jane trembled—dared. "I believe <I>I</I> could do something with him," +said she—and she was pleased with the coolness of her voice, the +complete absence of agitation or of false note. +</P> + +<P> +"Try if you like," said her father. "But I'm sure you'll find I'm +right. Be careful not to commit yourself in any way. But I needn't +warn you. You know how to take care of yourself. Still, maybe you +don't realize how set up he'd be over being noticed by a girl in your +position. And if you gave him the notion that there was a chance for +him to marry you, he'd be after you hammer and tongs. The idea of +getting hold of so much money'd set him crazy." +</P> + +<P> +"I doubt if he cares very much—or at all—about money," said Jane, +judicially. +</P> + +<P> +Hastings grinned satirically. "There ain't nobody that don't care +about money," said he, "any more than there's anybody that don't care +about air to breathe. Put a pin right there, Jinny." +</P> + +<P> +"I hate to think that," she said, reluctantly, "but I'm +afraid—it's—so." +</P> + +<P> +</P> + +<P> +As she was taking her ride one morning she met David Hull also on +horseback and out for his health. He turned and they rode together, +for several miles, neither breaking the silence except with an +occasional remark about weather or scenery. Finally Davy said: +</P> + +<P> +"You seem to be down about something, too?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not exactly down," replied Jane. "Simply—I've been doing a lot of +thinking—and planning—or attempt at planning—lately." +</P> + +<P> +"I, too," said Davy. +</P> + +<P> +"Naturally. How's politics?" +</P> + +<P> +"Of course I don't hear anything but that I'm going to be elected. If +you want to become convinced that the whole world is on the graft, take +part in a reform campaign. We've attracted every broken-down political +crook in this region. It's hard to say which crowd is the more +worthless, the college amateurs at politics or these rotten old +in-goods who can't get employment with either Kelly or House and, so, +have joined us. By Jove, I'd rather be in with the out and out +grafters—the regulars that make no bones of being in politics for the +spoils. There's slimy hypocrisy over our crowd that revolts me. Not a +particle of sincerity or conviction. Nothing but high moral guff." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, but YOU'RE sincere, Davy," said Jane with twinkling eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Am I?" said Davy angrily. "I'm not so damn sure of it." Hastily, "I +don't mean that. Of course, I'm sincere—as sincere as a man can be +and get anywhere in this world. You've got to humbug the people, +because they haven't sense enough to want the truth." +</P> + +<P> +"I guess, Davy," said Jane shrewdly, "if you told them the whole truth +about yourself and your party they'd have sense enough—to vote for +Victor Dorn." +</P> + +<P> +"He's a demagogue," said Davy with an angry jerk at his rein. "He knows +the people aren't fit to rule." +</P> + +<P> +"Who is?" said Jane. "I've yet to see any human creature who could run +anything without making more or less of a mess of it. And—well, +personally, I'd prefer incompetent honest servants to competent ones +who were liars or thieves." +</P> + +<P> +"Sometimes I think," said Davy, "that the only thing to do is to burn +the world up and start another one." +</P> + +<P> +"You don't talk like a man who expected to be elected," said Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh—I'm worrying about myself—not about the election," said Hull, +lapsing into sullen silence. And certainly he had no reason to worry +about the election. He had the Citizen's Alliance and the Democratic +nominations. And, as a further aid to him, Dick Kelly had given the +Republican nomination to Alfred Sawyer, about the most unpopular +manufacturer in that region. Sawyer, a shrewd money maker, was an ass +in other ways, was strongly seized of the itch for public office. +Kelly, seeking the man who would be the weakest, combined business with +good politics; he forced Sawyer to pay fifty thousand dollars into the +"campaign fund" in a lump sum, and was counting confidently upon +"milking" him for another fifty thousand in installments during the +campaign. Thus, in the natural order of things, Davy could safely +assume that he would be the next mayor of Remsen City by a gratifyingly +large majority. The last vote of the Workingmen's League had been made +fifteen hundred. Though it should quadruple its strength at the coming +election—which was most improbable—it would still be a badly beaten +second. Politically, Davy was at ease. +</P> + +<P> +Jane waited ten minutes, then asked abruptly: +</P> + +<P> +"What's become of Selma Gordon?" +</P> + +<P> +"Did you see this week's New Day?" +</P> + +<P> +"Is it out? I've seen no one, and haven't been down town." +</P> + +<P> +"There was a lot of stuff in it against me. Most of it demagoguing, of +course, but more or less hysterical campaigning. The only nasty article +about me—a downright personal attack on my sincerity—was signed +'S.G.'" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh—to be sure," said Jane, with smiling insincerity. "I had almost +forgotten what you told me. Well, it's easy enough to bribe her to +silence. Go offer yourself to her." +</P> + +<P> +A long silence, then Davy said: "I don't believe she'd accept me." +</P> + +<P> +"Try it," said Jane. +</P> + +<P> +Again a long pause. David said sullenly: "I did." +</P> + +<P> +Selma Gordon had refused David Hull! Half a dozen explanations of this +astounding occurrence rapidly suggested themselves. Jane rejected each +in turn at a glance. "You're sure she understood you?" +</P> + +<P> +"I made myself as clear as I did when I proposed to you," replied Davy +with a lack of tact which a woman of Jane's kind would never forget or +forgive. +</P> + +<P> +Jane winced, ignored. Said she: "You must have insisted on some +conditions she hesitated to accept." +</P> + +<P> +"On her own terms," said Davy. +</P> + +<P> +Jane gave up trying to get the real reason from him, sought it in +Selma's own words and actions. She inquired: "What did she say? What +reason did she give?" +</P> + +<P> +"That she owed it to the cause of her class not to marry a man of my +class," answered Hull, believing that he was giving the exact and the +only reason she assigned or had. +</P> + +<P> +Jane gave a faint smile of disdain. "Women don't act from a sense of +duty," she said. +</P> + +<P> +"She's not the ordinary woman," said Hull. "You must remember she +wasn't brought up as you and I were—hasn't our ideas of life. The +things that appeal to us most strongly don't touch her. She knows +nothing about them." He added, "And that's her great charm for me." +</P> + +<P> +Jane nodded sympathetically. Her own case exactly. After a brief +hesitation she suggested: +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps Selma's in love with—some one else." The pause before the +vague "some one else" was almost unnoticeable. +</P> + +<P> +"With Victor Dorn, you mean?" said Davy. "I asked her about that. No, +she's not in love with him." +</P> + +<P> +"As if she'd tell you!" +</P> + +<P> +Davy looked at her a little scornfully. "Don't insinuate," he said. +"You know she would. There's nothing of the ordinary tricky, evasive, +faking woman about her. And although she's got plenty of excuse for +being conceited, she isn't a bit so. She isn't always thinking about +herself, like the girls of our class." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't in the least wonder at your being in love with her, Davy," +said Jane sweetly. "Didn't I tell you I admired your taste—and your +courage?" +</P> + +<P> +"You're sneering at me," said Davy. "All the same, it did take +courage—for I'm a snob at bottom—like you—like all of us who've been +brought up so foolishly—so rottenly. But I'm proud that I had the +courage. I've had a better opinion of myself ever since. And if you +have any unspoiled womanhood in you, you agree with me." +</P> + +<P> +"I do agree with you," said Jane softly. She reached out and laid her +hand on his arm for an instant. "That's honest, Davy." +</P> + +<P> +He gave her a grateful look. "I know it," said he. "The reason I +confide things to you is because I know you're a real woman at bottom, +Jane—the only real person I've ever happened across in our class." +</P> + +<P> +"It took more courage for you to do that sort of thing than it would +for a woman," said Jane. "It's more natural, easier for a woman to +stake everything in love. If she hasn't the man she wants she hasn't +anything, while a man's wife can be a mere detail in his life. He can +forget he's married, most of the time." +</P> + +<P> +"That isn't the way I intend to be married," said Davy. "I want a wife +who'll be half, full half, of the whole. And I'll get her." +</P> + +<P> +"You mean you haven't given up?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why should I? She doesn't love another man. So, there's hope. Don't +you think so?" +</P> + +<P> +Jane was silent. She hastily debated whether it would be wiser to say +yes or to say no. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you think so?" repeated he. +</P> + +<P> +"How can I tell?" replied Jane, diplomatically. "I'd have to see her +with you—see how she feels toward you." +</P> + +<P> +"I think she likes me," said Davy, "likes me a good deal." +</P> + +<P> +Jane kept her smile from the surface. What a man always thought, no +matter how plainly a woman showed that she detested him. "No doubt she +does," said Jane. She had decided upon a course of action. "If I were +you, Davy, I'd keep away from her for the present—give her time to +think it over, to see all the advantages. If a man forces himself on a +queer, wild sort of girl such as Selma is, he's likely to drive her +further away." +</P> + +<P> +Davy reflected. "Guess you're right," said he finally. "My instinct +is always to act—to keep on acting until I get results. But it's +dangerous to do that with Selma. At least, I think so. I don't know. +I don't understand her. I've got nothing to offer her—nothing that +she wants—as she frankly told me. Even if she loved me, I doubt if +she'd marry me—on account of her sense of duty. What you said awhile +ago—about women never doing things from a sense of duty—that shows +how hard it is for a woman to understand what's perfectly simple to a +man. Selma isn't the sheltered woman sort—the sort whose moral +obligations are all looked after by the men of her family. The +old-fashioned woman always belonged to some man—or else was an +outcast. This new style of woman looks at life as a man does." +</P> + +<P> +Jane listened with a somewhat cynical expression. No doubt, in theory, +there was a new style of woman. But practically, the new style of woman +merely TALKED differently; at least, she was still the old-fashioned +woman, longing for dependence upon some man and indifferent to the +obligations men made such a fuss about—probably not so sincerely as +they fancied. But her expression changed when Davy went on to say: +</P> + +<P> +"She'd look at a thing of that sort much as I—or Victor Dorn would." +</P> + +<P> +Jane's heart suddenly sank. Because the unconscious blow had hurt she +struck out, struck back with the first weapon she could lay hold of. +"But you said a minute ago that Victor was a hypocritical demagogue." +</P> + +<P> +Davy flushed with confusion. He was in a franker mood now, however. +"I'd like to think that," he replied. "But I don't honestly believe +it." +</P> + +<P> +"You think that if Victor Dorn loved a woman of our class he'd put her +out of his life?" +</P> + +<P> +"That's hardly worth discussing," said Davy. "No woman of our +class—no woman he'd be likely to look at—would encourage him to the +point where he'd presume upon it." +</P> + +<P> +"How narrow you are!" cried Jane, derisive but even more angry. +</P> + +<P> +"It's different—entirely different—with a man, even in our class. +But a woman of our class—she's a lady or she's nothing at all. And a +lady couldn't be so lacking in refinement as to descend to a man +socially beneath her." +</P> + +<P> +"I can see how ANY woman might fall in love with Victor Dorn." +</P> + +<P> +"You're just saying that to be argumentative," said Davy with +conviction. "Take yourself, for example." +</P> + +<P> +"I confess I don't see any such contrast between Victor and you—except +where the comparison's altogether in his favor," said Jane pleasantly. +"You don't know as much as he does. You haven't the independence of +character—or the courage—or the sincerity. You couldn't be a real +leader, as he is. You have to depend on influence, and on trickery." +</P> + +<P> +A covert glance at the tall, solemn-looking young man riding silently +beside her convinced her that he was as uncomfortable as she had hoped +to make him. +</P> + +<P> +"As for manners—and the things that go to make a gentleman," she went +on, "I'm not sure but that there, too, the comparison is against you. +You always suggest to me that if you hadn't the pattern set for men of +our class and didn't follow it, you'd be absolutely lost, Davy, dear. +While Victor—he's a fine, natural person, with the manners that grow +as naturally out of his personality as oak leaves grow out of an oak." +</P> + +<P> +Jane was astonished and delighted by this eloquence of hers about the +man she loved—an eloquence far above her usual rather commonplace mode +of speech and thought. Love was indeed an inspirer! What a person she +would become when she had Victor always stimulating her. She went on: +</P> + +<P> +"A woman would never grow tired of Victor. He doesn't talk stale stuff +such as all of us get from the stale little professors and stale, +dreary text-books at our colleges." +</P> + +<P> +"Why don't you fall in love with him?" said Davy sourly. +</P> + +<P> +"I do believe you're envious of Victor Dorn," retorted Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"What a disagreeable mood you're in to-day," said Davy. +</P> + +<P> +"So a man always thinks when a woman speaks well of another man in his +presence." +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't suspect you of being envious of Selma. Why should you +suspect me of feeling ungenerously about Victor? Fall in love with him +if you like. Heaven knows, I'd do nothing to stop it." +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps I shall," said Jane, with unruffled amiability. "You're +setting a dangerous example of breaking down class lines." +</P> + +<P> +"Now, Jane, you know perfectly well that while, if I married Selma +she'd belong to my class, a woman of our class marrying Victor Dorn +would sink to his class. Why quarrel about anything so obviously true?" +</P> + +<P> +"Victor Dorn belongs to a class by himself," replied Jane. "You forget +that men of genius are not regarded like you poor ordinary mortals." +</P> + +<P> +Davy was relieved that they had reached the turning at which they had +to separate. "I believe you are in love with him," said he as a +parting shot. +</P> + +<P> +Jane, riding into her lane, laughed gayly, mockingly. She arrived at +home in fine humor. It pleased her that Davy, for all his love for +Selma, could yet be jealous of Victor Dorn on her account. And more +than ever, after this talk with him—the part of it that preceded the +quarrel—she felt that she was doing a fine, brave, haughtily +aristocratic thing in loving Victor Dorn. Only a woman with a royal +soul would venture to be thus audacious. +</P> + +<P> +Should she encourage or discourage the affair between Davy and Selma? +There was much to be said for this way of removing Selma from her path; +also, if a man of Davy Hull's position married beneath him, less would +be thought of her doing the same thing. On the other hand, she felt +that she had a certain property right in David Hull, and that Selma was +taking what belonged to her. This, she admitted to herself, was mean +and small, was unworthy of the woman who was trying to be worthy of +Victor Dorn, of such love as she professed for him. Yes, mean and +small. She must try to conquer it. +</P> + +<P> +But—when she met Selma in the woods a few mornings later, her dominant +emotions were anything but high-minded and generous. Selma was looking +her most fascinating—wild and strange and unique. They caught sight +of each other at the same instant. Jane came composedly on—Selma made +a darting movement toward a by-path opening near her, hesitated, stood +like some shy, lovely bird of the deep wilderness ready to fly away +into hiding. +</P> + +<P> +"Hello, Selma!" said Jane carelessly. +</P> + +<P> +Selma looked at her with wide, serious eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Where have you been keeping yourself of late? Busy with the writing, +I suppose?" +</P> + +<P> +"I owe you an apology," said Selma, in a queer, suppressed voice. "I +have been hating you, and trying to think of some way to keep you and +Victor Dorn apart. I thought it was from my duty to the cause. I've +found out that it was a low, mean personal reason." +</P> + +<P> +Jane had stopped short, was regarding her with eyes that glowed in a +pallid face. "Because you are in love with him?" she said. +</P> + +<P> +Selma gave a quick, shamed nod. "Yes," she said—the sound was +scarcely audible. +</P> + +<P> +Selma's frank and generous—and confiding—self-sacrifice aroused no +response in Jane Hastings. For the first time in her life she was +knowing what it meant to hate. +</P> + +<P> +"And I've got to warn you," Selma went on, "that I am going to do +whatever I can to keep you from hindering him. Not because I love him, +but because I owe it to the cause. He belongs to it, and I must help +him be single-hearted for it. You could only be a bad influence in his +life. I think you would like to be a sincere woman; but you can't. +Your class is too strong for you. So—it would be wrong for Victor Dorn +to love and to marry you. I think he realizes it and is struggling to +be true to himself. I intend to help him, if I can." +</P> + +<P> +Jane smiled cruelly. "What hypocrisy!" she said, and turned and walked +away. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap08"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +VIII +</H3> + +<P> +In America we have been bringing up our women like men, and treating +them like children. They have active minds with nothing to act upon. +Thus they are driven to think chiefly about themselves. With Jane +Hastings, self-centering took the form of self-analysis most of the +time. She was intensely interested in what she regarded as the new +development of her character. This definite and apparently final +decision for the narrow and the ungenerous. In fact, it was no new +development, but simply a revelation to herself of her own real +character. She was seeing at last the genuine Jane Hastings, +inevitable product of a certain heredity in a certain environment. The +high thinking and talking, the idealistic aspiration were pose and +pretense. Jane Hastings was a selfish, self-absorbed person, ready to +do almost any base thing to gain her ends, ready to hate to the +uttermost any one who stood between her and her object. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm certainly not a lovely person—not a lovable person," thought she, +with that gentle tolerance wherewith we regard our ownselves, whether +in the dress of pretense or in the undress of deformed humanness. +"Still—I am what I am, and I've got to make the best of it." +</P> + +<P> +As she thought of Selma's declaration of war she became less and less +disturbed about it. Selma neither would nor could do anything sly. +Whatever she attempted in the open would only turn Victor Dorn more +strongly toward herself. However, she must continue to try to see him, +must go to see him in a few days if she did not happen upon him in her +rides or walks. How poorly he would think of her if he knew the truth +about her! But then, how poor most women—and men, too—would look in +a strong and just light. Few indeed could stand idealizing; except +Victor, no one she knew. And he was human enough not to make her +uncomfortable in his presence. +</P> + +<P> +But it so happened that before she could see Victor Dorn her father +disobeyed Dr. Charlton and gave way to the appetite that was the chief +cause of his physical woes. He felt so well that he ate the family +dinner, including a peach cobbler with whipped cream, which even the +robust Jane adventured warily. Martha was dining with them. She +abetted her father. "It's light," said she. "It couldn't harm +anybody." +</P> + +<P> +"You mustn't touch it, popsy," said Jane. +</P> + +<P> +She unthinkingly spoke a little too commandingly. Her father, in a +perverse and reckless mood, took Martha's advice. An hour later Dr. +Charlton was summoned, and had he not arrived promptly—— +</P> + +<P> +"Another fifteen or twenty minutes," said he to the old man when he had +him out of immediate danger, "and I'd have had nothing to do but sign a +certificate of natural death." +</P> + +<P> +"Murder would have been nearer the truth," said Martin feebly. "That +there fool Martha!" +</P> + +<P> +"Come out from behind that petticoat!" cried Charlton. "Didn't I spend +the best part of three days in giving you the correct ideas as to +health and disease—in showing you that ALL disease comes from +indigestion—ALL disease, from falling hair and sore eyes to weak +ankles and corns? And didn't I convince you that you could eat only +the things I told you about?" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't hit a man when he's down," groaned Hastings. +</P> + +<P> +"If I don't, you'll do the same idiotic trick again when I get you +up—if I get you up." +</P> + +<P> +Hastings looked quickly at him. This was the first time Charlton had +ever expressed a doubt about his living. "Do you mean that?" he said +hoarsely. "Or are you just trying to scare me?" +</P> + +<P> +"Both," said Charlton. "I'll do my best, but I can't promise. I've +lost confidence in you. No wonder doctors, after they've been in +practice a few years, stop talking food and digestion to their +patients. I've never been able to convince a single human being that +appetite is not the sign of health, and yielding to it the way to +health. But I've made lots of people angry and have lost their trade. +I had hopes of you. You were such a hopeless wreck. But no. And you +call yourself an intelligent man!" +</P> + +<P> +"I'll never do it again," said Hastings, pleading, but smiling, +too—Charlton's way of talking delighted him. +</P> + +<P> +"You think this is a joke," said Charlton, shaking his bullet head. +"Have you any affairs to settle? If you have, send for your lawyer in +the morning." +</P> + +<P> +Fear—the Great Fear—suddenly laid its icy long fingers upon the +throat of the old man. He gasped and his eyes rolled. "Don't trifle +with me, Charlton," he muttered. "You know you will pull me through." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll do my best," said Charlton. "I promise nothing. I'm serious +about the lawyer." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't want no lawyer hanging round my bed," growled the old man. +"It'd kill me. I've got nothing to settle. I don't run things with +loose ends. And there's Jinny and Marthy and the boy—share and share +alike." +</P> + +<P> +"Well—you're in no immediate danger. I'll come early to-morrow." +</P> + +<P> +"Wait till I get to sleep." +</P> + +<P> +"You'll be asleep as soon as the light's down. But I'll stop a few +minutes and talk to your daughter." +</P> + +<P> +Charlton found Jane at the window in the dressing room next her +father's bedroom. He said loudly enough for the old man to overhear: +</P> + +<P> +"Your father's all right for the present, so you needn't worry. Come +downstairs with me. He's to go to sleep now." +</P> + +<P> +Jane went in and kissed the bulging bony forehead. "Good night, popsy." +</P> + +<P> +"Good night, Jinny dear," he said in a softer voice than she had ever +heard from him. "I'm feeling very comfortable now, and sleepy. If +anything should happen, don't forget what I said about not temptin' +your brother by trustin' him too fur. Look after your own affairs. +Take Mr. Haswell's advice. He's stupid, but he's honest and careful +and safe. You might talk to Dr. Charlton about things, too. He's +straight, and knows what's what. He's one of them people that gives +everybody good advice but themselves. If anything should happen——" +</P> + +<P> +"But nothing's going to happen, popsy." +</P> + +<P> +"It might. I don't seem to care as much as I did. I'm so tarnation +tired. I reckon the goin' ain't as bad as I always calculated. I +didn't know how tired they felt and anxious to rest." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll turn down the light. The nurse is right in there." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes—turn the light. If anything should happen, there's an envelope +in the top drawer in my desk for Dr. Charlton. But don't tell him till +I'm gone. I don't trust nobody, and if he knowed there was something +waiting, why, there's no telling——" +</P> + +<P> +The old man had drowsed off. Jane lowered the light and went down to +join Charlton on the front veranda, where he was smoking a cigarette. +She said: +</P> + +<P> +"He's asleep." +</P> + +<P> +"He's all right for the next few days," said Charlton. "After that—I +don't know. I'm very doubtful." +</P> + +<P> +Jane was depressed, but not so depressed as she would have been had not +her father so long looked like death and so often been near dying. +</P> + +<P> +"Stay at home until I see how this is going to turn out. Telephone your +sister to be within easy call. But don't let her come here. She's not +fit to be about an ill person. The sight of her pulling a long, sad +face might carry him off in a fit of rage." +</P> + +<P> +Jane observed him with curiosity in the light streaming from the front +hall. "You're a very practical person aren't you?" she said. +</P> + +<P> +"No romance, no idealism, you mean?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +He laughed in his plain, healthy way. "Not a frill," said he. "I'm +interested only in facts. They keep me busy enough." +</P> + +<P> +"You're not married, are you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not yet. But I shall be as soon as I find a woman I want." +</P> + +<P> +"IF you can get her." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll get her, all right," replied he. "No trouble about that. The +woman I want'll want me." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm eager to see her," said Jane. "She'll be a queer one." +</P> + +<P> +"Not necessarily," said he. "But I'll make her a queer one before I +get through with her—queer, in my sense, meaning sensible and useful." +</P> + +<P> +"You remind me so often of Victor Dorn, yet you're not at all like him." +</P> + +<P> +"We're in the same business—trying to make the human race fit to +associate with. He looks after the minds; I look after the bodies. +Mine's the humbler branch of the business, perhaps—but it's equally +necessary, and it comes first. The chief thing that's wrong with human +nature is bad health. I'm getting the world ready for Victor." +</P> + +<P> +"You like him?" +</P> + +<P> +"I worship him," said Charlton in his most matter-of-fact way. +</P> + +<P> +"Yet he's just the opposite of you. He's an idealist." +</P> + +<P> +"Who told you that?" laughed Charlton. "He's the most practical, +sensible man in this town. You people think he's a crank because he +isn't crazy about money or about stepping round on the necks of his +fellow beings. The truth is, he's got a sense of proportion—and a +sense of humor—and an idea of a rational happy life. You're still +barbarians, while he's a civilized man. Ever seen an ignorant yap jeer +when a neat, clean, well-dressed person passed by? Well, you people +jeering at Victor Dorn are like that yap." +</P> + +<P> +"I agree with you," said Jane hastily and earnestly. +</P> + +<P> +"No, you don't," replied Charlton, tossing away the end of his +cigarette. "And so much the worse for you. Good-night, lady." +</P> + +<P> +And away he strode into the darkness, leaving her amused, yet with a +peculiar sense of her own insignificance. +</P> + +<P> +Charlton was back again early the next morning and spent that day—and +a large part of many days there-after—in working at the wreck, Martin +Hastings, inspecting known weak spots, searching for unknown ones, +patching here and there, trying all the schemes teeming in his +ingenious and supremely sensible mind in the hope of setting the wreck +afloat again. He could not comprehend why the old man remained alive. +He had seen many a human being go who was in health, in comparison with +this conglomerate of diseases and frailties; yet life there was, and a +most tenacious life. He worked and watched, and from day to day put +off suggesting that they telegraph for the son. The coming of his son +might shake Martin's conviction that he would get well; it seemed to +Charlton that that conviction was the one thread holding his patient +from the abyss where darkness and silence reign supreme. +</P> + +<P> +Jane could not leave the grounds. If she had she would have seen +Victor Dorn either not at all or at a distance. For the campaign was +now approaching its climax. +</P> + +<P> +The public man is always two wholly different personalities. There is +the man the public sees—and fancies it knows. There is the man known +only to his intimates, known imperfectly to them, perhaps an unknown +quantity even to himself until the necessity for decisive action +reveals him to himself and to those in a position to see what he really +did. Unfortunately, it is not the man the public sees but the hidden +man who is elected to the office. Nothing could be falser than the old +saw that sooner or later a man stands revealed. Sometimes, as we well +know, history has not found out a man after a thousand years of +studying him. And the most familiar, the most constantly observed men +in public life often round out a long career without ever having +aroused in the public more than a faint and formless suspicion as to +the truth about them. +</P> + +<P> +The chief reason for this is that, in studying a character, no one is +content with the plain and easy way of reaching an understanding of +it—the way of looking only at its ACTS. We all love to dabble in the +metaphysical, to examine and weigh motives and intentions, to compare +ourselves and make wildly erroneous judgment inevitable by listening to +the man's WORDS—his professions, always more or less dishonest, though +perhaps not always deliberately so. +</P> + +<P> +In that Remsen City campaign the one party that could profit by the +full and clear truth, and therefore was eager for the truth as to +everything and everybody, was the Workingmen's League. The Kelly +crowd, the House gang, the Citizens' Alliance, all had their ugly +secrets, their secret intentions different from their public +professions. All these were seeking office and power with a view to +increasing or perpetuating or protecting various abuses, however +ardently they might attack, might perhaps honestly intend to end, +certain other and much smaller abuses. The Workingmen's League said +that it would end every abuse existing law did not securely protect, +and it meant what it said. +</P> + +<P> +Its campaign fund was the dues paid in by its members and the profits +from the New Day. Its financial books were open for free inspection. +Not so the others—and that in itself was proof enough of sinister +intentions. +</P> + +<P> +Under Victor Dorn's shrewd direction, the League candidates published, +each man in a sworn statement, a complete description of all the +property owned by himself and by his wife. "The character of a man's +property," said the New Day, "is an indication of how that man will act +in public affairs. Therefore, every candidate for public trust owes it +to the people to tell them just what his property interests are. The +League candidates do this—and an effective answer the schedules make +to the charge that the League's candidates are men who have 'no stake +in the community.' Now, let Mr. Sawyer, Mr. Hull, Mr. Galland and the +rest of the League's opponents do likewise. Let us read how many +shares of water and ice stock Mr. Sawyer owns. Let us hear from Mr. +Hull about his traction holdings—those of the Hull estate from which +he draws his entire income. As for Mr. Galland, it would be easier for +him to give the list of public and semi-public corporations in which he +is not largely interested. But let him be specific, since he asks the +people to trust him as judge between them and those corporations of +which he is almost as large an owner as is his father-in-law." +</P> + +<P> +This line of attack—and the publication of the largest contributors to +the Republican and Democratic-Reform campaign fund—caused a great deal +of public and private discussion. Large crowds cheered Hull when he, +without doing the charges the honor of repeating them, denounced the +"undignified and demagogic methods of our desperate opponents." The +smaller Sawyer crowds applauded Sawyer when he waxed indignant over the +attempts of those "socialists and anarchists, haters of this free +country and spitters upon its glorious flag, to set poor against rich, +to destroy our splendid American tradition of a free field and no +favors, and let the best man win!" +</P> + +<P> +Sawyer, and Davy, all the candidates of the machines and the reformers +for that matter, made excellent public appearances. They discoursed +eloquently about popular rights and wrongs. They denounced corruption; +they stood strongly for the right and renounced and denounced the devil +and all his works. They promised to do far more for the people than +did the Leaguers; for Victor Dorn had trained his men to tell the exact +truth—the difficulty of doing anything for the people at any near time +or in any brief period because at a single election but a small part of +the effective offices could be changed, and sweeping changes must be +made before there could be sweeping benefits. "We'll do all we can," +was their promise. "Their county government and their state government +and their courts won't let us do much. But a beginning has to be made. +Let's make it!" +</P> + +<P> +David Hull's public appearance was especially good. Not so effective +as it has now become, because he was only a novice at campaigning in +that year. But he looked, well—handsome, yet not too handsome, upper +class, but not arrogant, serious, frank and kindly. And he talked in a +plain, honest way—you felt that no interest, however greedy, desperate +and powerful, would dare approach that man with an improper +proposal—and you quite forgot in real affairs the crude improper +proposal is never the method of approach. When Davy, with grave +emotion, referred to the "pitiful efforts to smirch the personal +character of candidates," you could not but burn with scorn of the +Victor Dorn tactics. What if Hull did own gas and water and ice and +traction and railway stocks? Mustn't a rich man invest his money +somehow? And how could he more creditably invest it than in local +enterprises and in enterprises that opened up the country and gave +employment to labor? What if the dividends were improperly, even +criminally, earned? Must he therefore throw the dividends paid him +into the street? As for a man of such associations and financial +interests being unfit fairly to administer public affairs, what +balderdash! Who could be more fit than this educated, high minded man, +of large private means, willing to devote himself to the public service +instead of drinking himself to death or doing nothing at all. You +would have felt, as you looked at Davy and listened to him, that it was +little short of marvelous that a man could be so self-sacrificing as to +consent to run the gauntlet of low mudslingers for no reward but an +office with a salary of three thousand a year. And you would have been +afraid that, if something was not done to stop these mudslingers, such +men as David Hull would abandon their patriotic efforts to save their +country—and then WHAT would become of the country? +</P> + +<P> +But Victor and his associates—on the platform, in the paper, in +posters and dodgers and leaflets—continued to press home the ugly +questions—and continued to call attention to the fact that, while +there had been ample opportunity, none of the candidates had answered +any of the questions. And presently—keeping up this line of +attack—Victor opened out in another. He had Falconer, the League +candidate for judge, draw up a careful statement of exactly what each +public officer could do under existing law to end or to check the most +flagrant of the abuses from which the people of Remsen City were +suffering. With this statement as a basis, he formulated a series of +questions—"Yes or no? If you are elected, will you or will you not?" +The League candidates promptly gave the specific pledges. Sawyer +dodged. David Hull was more adroit. He held up a copy of the list of +questions at a big meeting in Odd Fellows' Hall. +</P> + +<P> +"Our opponents have resorted to a familiar trick—the question and the +pledge." (Applause. Sensation. Fear lest "our candidate" was about +to "put his foot in it.") "We need resort to no tricks. I promptly +and frankly, for our whole ticket, answer their questions. I say, 'We +will lay hold of ANY and EVERY abuse, as soon as it presents itself, +and WILL SMASH IT." +</P> + +<P> +Applause, cheers, whistlings—a demonstration lasting nearly five +minutes by a watch held by Gamaliel Tooker, who had a mania for +gathering records of all kinds and who had voted for every Republican +candidate for President since the party was founded. Davy did not again +refer to Victor Dorn's questions. But Victor continued to press them +and to ask whether a public officer ought not to go and present himself +to abuses, instead of waiting for them to hunt him out and present +themselves to him. +</P> + +<P> +Such was the campaign as the public saw it. And such was in reality +the campaign of the Leaguers. But the real campaign—the one conducted +by Kelly and House—was entirely different. They were not talking; +they were working. +</P> + +<P> +They were working on a plan based somewhat after this fashion: +</P> + +<P> +In former and happier days, when people left politics to politicians +and minded their own business, about ninety-five per cent. of the +voters voted their straight party tickets like good soldiers. Then +politics was a high-class business, and politicians devoted themselves +to getting out the full party vote and to buying or cajoling to one +side or the other the doubtful ten per cent that held the balance of +power. That golden age, however, had passed. People had gotten into +the habit of fancying that, because certain men had grown very, very +rich through their own genius for money-making, supplemented perhaps by +accidental favors from law and public officials, therefore politics in +some way might possibly concern the private citizen, might account for +the curious discrepancy between his labor and its reward. The +impression was growing that, while the energy of the citizen determined +the PRODUCTION of wealth, it was politics that determined the +distribution of wealth. And under the influence of this impression, +the percentage of sober, steady, reliable voters who "stood by the +grand old party" had shrunk to about seventy, while the percentage of +voters who had to be worried about had grown to about thirty. +</P> + +<P> +The Kelly-House problem was, what shall we do as to that annoying +thirty per cent? +</P> + +<P> +Kelly—for he was THE brain of the bi-partisan machine, proposed to +throw the election to the House-Reform "combine." His henchmen and +House's made a careful poll, and he sat up all night growing haggard +and puffy-eyed over the result. According to this poll, not only was +the League's entire ticket to be elected, but also Galland, despite his +having the Republican, the Democratic and the Reform nominations, was +to be beaten by the League's Falconer. He couldn't understand it. The +Sawyer meetings were quite up to his expectations and indicated that +the Republican rank and file was preparing to swallow the Sawyer dose +without blinking. The Alliance and the Democratic meetings were +equally satisfactory. Hull was "making a hit." Everywhere he had big +crowds and enthusiasm. The League meetings were only slightly better +attended than during the last campaign; no indication there of the +League "landslide." +</P> + +<P> +Yet Kelly could not, dared not, doubt that poll. It was his only safe +guide. And it assured him that the long-dreaded disaster was at hand. +In vain was the clever trick of nominating a popular, "clean" young +reformer and opposing him with an unpopular regular of the most +offensive type—more offensive even than a professional politician of +unsavory record. At last victory was to reward the tactics of Victor +Dorn, the slow, patient building which for several years now had been +rasping the nerves of Boss Kelly. +</P> + +<P> +What should he do? +</P> + +<P> +It was clear to him that the doom of the old system was settled. The +plutocrats, the upper-class crowd—the "silk stockings," as they had +been called from the days when men wore knee-breeches—they fancied +that this nation-wide movement was sporadic, would work out in a few +years, and that the people would return to their allegiance. Kelly had +no such delusions. Issuing from the depths of the people, he +understood. They were learning a little something at last. They were +discovering that the ever higher prices for everything and stationary +or falling wages and salaries had some intimate relation with politics; +that at the national capitol, at the state capitol, in the county +courthouse, in the city hall their share of the nation's vast annual +production of wealth was being determined—and that the persons doing +the dividing, though elected by them, were in the employ of the +plutocracy. Kelly, seeing and comprehending, felt that it behooved him +to get for his masters—and for himself—all that could be got in the +brief remaining time. Not that he was thinking of giving up the game; +nothing so foolish as that. It would be many a year before the +plutocracy could be routed out, before the people would have the +intelligence and the persistence to claim and to hold their own. In +the meantime, they could be fooled and robbed by a hundred tricks. He +was not a constitutional lawyer, but he had practical good sense, and +could enjoy the joke upon the people in their entanglement in the toils +of their own making. Through fear of governmental tyranny they had +divided authority among legislators, executives and judges, national, +state, local. And, behold, outside of the government, out where they +had never dreamed of looking, had grown up a tyranny that was +perpetuating itself by dodging from one of these divided authorities to +another, eluding capture, wearing out the not too strong perseverance +of popular pursuit. +</P> + +<P> +But, thanks to Victor Dorn, the local graft was about to be taken away +from the politicians and the plutocracy. How put off that unpleasant +event? Obviously, in the only way left unclosed. The election must be +stolen. +</P> + +<P> +It is a very human state of mind to feel that what one wants somehow +has already become in a sense one's property. It is even more +profoundly human to feel that what one has had, however wrongfully, +cannot justly be taken away. So Mr. Kelly did not regard himself as a +thief, taking what did not belong to him; no, he was holding on to and +defending his own. +</P> + +<P> +Victor Dorn had not been in politics since early boyhood without +learning how the political game is conducted in all its branches. +</P> + +<P> +Because there had never been the remotest chance of victory, Victor had +never made preelection polls of his party. So the first hint that he +got of there being a real foundation for the belief of some of his +associates in an impending victory was when he found out that Kelly and +House were "colonizing" voters, and were selecting election officers +with an eye to "dirty work." These preparations, he knew, could not be +making for the same reason as in the years before the "gentlemen's +agreement" between the Republican and the Democratic machines. Kelly, +he knew, wanted House and the Alliance to win. Therefore, the +colonizations in the slums and the appointing of notorious buckos to +positions where they would control the ballot boxes could be directed +only against the Workingmen's League. Kelly must have accurate +information that the League was likely, or at least not unlikely, to +win. +</P> + +<P> +Victor had thought he had so schooled himself that victory and defeat +were mere words to him. He soon realized how he had overestimated the +power of philosophy over human nature. During that campaign he had +been imagining that he was putting all his ability, all his energy, all +his resourcefulness into the fight. He now discovered his mistake. +Hope—definite hope—of victory had hardly entered his mind before he +was organizing and leading on such a campaign as Remsen City had never +known in all its history—and Remsen City was in a state where politics +is the chief distraction of the people. Sleep left him; he had no need +of sleep. Day and night his brain worked, pouring out a steady stream +of ideas. He became like a gigantic electric storage battery to which +a hundred, a thousand small batteries come for renewal. He charged his +associates afresh each day. And they in turn became amazingly more +powerful forces for acting upon the minds of the people. +</P> + +<P> +In the last week of the campaign it became common talk throughout the +city that the "Dorn crowd" would probably carry the election. Kelly +was the only one of the opposition leaders who could maintain a calm +front. Kelly was too seasoned a gambler even to show his feelings in +his countenance, but, had he been showing them, his following would not +have been depressed, for he had made preparations to meet and overcome +any majority short of unanimity which the people might roll up against +him. The discouragement in the House-Alliance camps became so apparent +that Kelly sent his chief lieutenant, Wellman, successor to the +fugitive Rivers, to House and to David Hull with a message. It was +delivered to Hull in this form: +</P> + +<P> +"The old man says he wants you to stop going round with your chin +knocking against your knees. He says everybody is saying you have +given up the fight." +</P> + +<P> +"Our meetings these last few days are very discouraging," said Davy +gloomily. +</P> + +<P> +"What's meetin's?" retorted Wellman. "You fellows that shoot off your +mouths think you're doing the campaigning. But the real stuff is being +doped up by us fellows who ain't seen or heard. The old man says you +are going to win. That's straight. He knows. It's only a question of +the size of your majority. So pull yourself together, Mr. Hull, and +put the ginger back into your speeches, and stir up that there gang of +dudes. What a gang of Johnnies and quitters they are!" +</P> + +<P> +Hull was looking directly and keenly at the secret messenger. Upon his +lips was a question he dared not ask. Seeing the impudent, disdainful +smile in Wellman's eyes, he hastily shifted his glance. It was most +uncomfortable, this suspicion of the hidden meaning of the Kelly +message—a suspicion ALMOST confirmed by that mocking smile of the +messenger. Hull said with embarrassment: +</P> + +<P> +"Tell Mr. Kelly I'm much obliged." +</P> + +<P> +"And you'll begin to make a fight again?" +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly," said Davy impatiently. +</P> + +<P> +When he was alone he became once more involved in one of those internal +struggles to prevent himself from seeing—and smelling—a hideous and +malodorous truth. These struggles were painfully frequent. The only +consolation the young reformer found was that they were increasingly +less difficult to end in the way such struggles must be ended if a +high-minded young man is to make a career in "practical" life. +</P> + +<P> +On election day after he had voted he went for a long walk in the woods +to the south of the town, leaving word at his headquarters what +direction he had taken. After walking two hours he sat down on a log +in the shade near where the highroad crossed Foaming Creek. He became +so absorbed in his thoughts that he sprang to his feet with a wild look +when Selma's voice said, close by: +</P> + +<P> +"May I interrupt a moment, Mr. Hull?" +</P> + +<P> +He recovered slowly. His cheeks were pale and his voice uncertain as +he replied: +</P> + +<P> +"You? I beg your pardon. This campaign has played smash with my +nerves." +</P> + +<P> +He now noted that she was regarding him with a glance so intense that +it seemed to concentrate all the passion and energy in that slim, +nervous body of hers. He said uncomfortably: +</P> + +<P> +"You wished to see me?" +</P> + +<P> +"I wonder what you were thinking about," she said in her impetuous, +direct way. "It makes me almost afraid to ask what I came to ask." +</P> + +<P> +"Won't you sit?" said he. +</P> + +<P> +"No, thanks," replied she. +</P> + +<P> +"Then you'll compel me to stand. And I'm horribly tired." +</P> + +<P> +She seated herself upon the log. He made himself comfortable at its +other end. +</P> + +<P> +"I've just come from Victor Dorn's house," said she. "There was a +consultation among the leaders of our party. We have learned that your +people—Kelly and House—are going to steal the election on the count +this evening. They are committing wholesale frauds now—sending round +gangs of repeaters, intimidating our voters, openly buying votes at the +polling places—paying men as much not to vote as they usually pay for +votes." +</P> + +<P> +Davy, though latterly he had grown so much older and graver that no one +now thought of him as Davy, contrived to muster a smile of amusement. +"You oughtn't to let them deceive you with that silly talk, Miss +Gordon. The losers always indulge in it. Your good sense must tell +you how foolish it is. The police are on guard, and the courts of +justice are open." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes—the police are on guard—to protect fraud and to drive us away +from the polls. And the courts are open—but not for us." +</P> + +<P> +David was gentle with her. "I know how sincere you are, Selma," said +he. "No doubt you believe those things. Perhaps Dorn believes them, +also—from repeating them so often. But all the same I'm sorry to hear +you say them." +</P> + +<P> +He tried to look at her. He found that his eyes were more comfortable +when his glance was elsewhere. +</P> + +<P> +"This has been a sad campaign to me," he went on. "I did not +appreciate before what demagogery meant—how dangerous it is—how +wicked, how criminally wicked it is for men to stir up the lower +classes against the educated leadership of the community." +</P> + +<P> +Selma laughed contemptuously. "What nonsense, David Hull—and from +YOU!" she cried. "By educated leadership do you mean the traction and +gas and water and coal and iron and produce thieves? Or do you mean the +officials and the judges who protect them and license them to rob?" +Her eyes flashed. "At this very moment, in our town, those thieves and +their agents, the police and the courts, are committing the most +frightful crime known to a free people. Yet the masses are submitting +peaceably. How long the upper class has to indulge in violence, and +how savagely cruel it has to be, before the people even murmur. But I +didn't come here to remind you of what you already know. I came to ask +you, as a man whom I have respected, to assert his manhood—if there is +any of it left after this campaign of falsehood and shifting." +</P> + +<P> +"Selma!" he protested energetically, but still avoiding her eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Those wretches are stealing that election for you, David Hull. Are you +going to stand for it? Or, will you go into town and force Kelly to +stop?" +</P> + +<P> +"If anything wrong is being done by Kelly," said David, "it must be for +Sawyer." +</P> + +<P> +Selma rose. "At our consultation," said she quietly and even with no +suggestion of repressed emotion, "they debated coming to you and laying +the facts before you. They decided against it. They were right; I was +wrong. I pity you, David Hull. Good-by." +</P> + +<P> +She walked away. He hesitated, observing her. His eyes lighted up +with the passion he believed his good sense had conquered. "Selma, +don't misjudge me!" he cried, following her. "I am not the scoundrel +they're making you believe me. I love you!" +</P> + +<P> +She wheeled upon him so fiercely that he started back. "How dare you!" +she said, her voice choking with anger. "You miserable fraud! You +bellwether for the plutocracy, to lead reform movements off on a false +scent, off into the marshes where they'll be suffocated." She looked +at him from head to foot with a withering glance. "No doubt, you'll +have what's called a successful career. You'll be their traitor leader +for the radicals they want to bring to confusion. When the people cry +for a reform you'll shout louder than anybody else—and you'll be made +leader—and you'll lead—into the marshes. Your followers will perish, +but you'll come back, ready for the next treachery for which the +plutocracy needs you. And you'll look honest and respectable—and +you'll talk virtue and reform and justice. But you'll know what you +are yourself. David Hull, I despise you as much as you despise +yourself." +</P> + +<P> +He did not follow as she walked away. He returned to the log, and +slowly reseated himself. He was glad of the violent headache that made +thought impossible. +</P> + +<P> +</P> + +<P> +Remsen City, boss-ridden since the Civil War, had experienced many a +turbulent election day and night. The rivalries of the two bosses, +contending for the spoils where the electorate was evenly divided, had +made the polling places in the poorer quarters dangerous all day and +scenes of rioting at night. But latterly there had been a notable +improvement. People who entertained the pleasant and widespread +delusion that statute laws offset the habits and customs of men, +restrain the strong and protect the weak, attributed the improvement to +sundry vigorously worded enactments of the legislature on the subject +of election frauds. In fact, the real bottom cause of the change was +the "gentlemen's agreement" between the two party machines whereunder +both entered the service of the same master, the plutocracy. +</P> + +<P> +Never in Remsen City history had there been grosser frauds than those +of this famous election day, and never had the frauds been so open. A +day of scandal was followed by an evening of shame; for to overcome the +League the henchmen of Kelly and House had to do a great deal of +counting out and counting in, of mutilating ballots, of destroying +boxes with their contents. Yet never had Remsen City seen so peaceful +an election. Representatives of the League were at every polling +place. They protested; they took names of principals and witnesses in +each case of real or suspected fraud. They appealed to the courts from +time to time and got rulings—always against them, even where the +letter of the decision was in their favor. They did all this in the +quietest manner conceivable, without so much as an expression of +indignation. And when the results were announced—a sweeping victory +for Hull and the fusion ticket, Hugo Galland elected by five hundred +over Falconer—the Leaguers made no counter demonstration as the +drunken gangs of machine heelers paraded in the streets with bands and +torches. +</P> + +<P> +Kelly observed and was uneasy. What could be the meaning of this meek +acceptance of a theft so flagrant that the whole town was talking about +it? What was Victor Dorn's "game"? +</P> + +<P> +He discovered the next day. The executive committee of the League +worked all night; the League's printers and presses worked from six +o'clock in the morning until ten. At half-past ten Remsen City was +flooded with a special edition of the New Day, given away by Leaguers +and their wives and sons and daughters—a monster special edition paid +for with the last money in the League's small campaign chest. This +special was a full account of the frauds that had been committed. No +indictment could have been more complete, could have carried within +itself more convincing proofs of the truth of its charges. The New Day +declared that the frauds were far more extensive than it was able to +prove; but it insisted upon, and took into account, only those frauds +that could be proved in a "court of justice—if Remsen City had a court +of justice, which the treatment of the League's protectors at the +Courthouse yesterday shows that it has not." The results of the +League's investigations were tabulated. The New Day showed: +</P> + +<P> +First, that while Harbinger, the League candidate for Mayor, had +actually polled 5,280 votes at least, and David Hull had polled less +than 3,950, the election had been so manipulated that in the official +count 4,827 votes were given to Hull and 3,980 votes to Harbinger. +</P> + +<P> +Second, that in the actual vote Falconer had beaten Hugo Galland by +1,230 at least; that in the official count Galland was declared elected +by a majority of 672. +</P> + +<P> +Third, that these results were brought about by wholesale fraudulent +voting, one gang of twenty-two repeaters casting upwards of a thousand +votes at the various polling places; also by false counting, the number +of votes reported exceeding the number cast by between two and three +thousand. +</P> + +<P> +As a piece of workmanship the document was an amazing illustration of +the genius of Victor Dorn. Instead of violence against violence, +instead of vague accusation, here was a calm, orderly proof of the +League's case, of the outrage that had been done the city and its +citizens. Before night fell the day after the election there was no +one in Remsen City who did not know the truth. +</P> + +<P> +The three daily newspapers ignored the special. They continued to +congratulate Remsen City upon the "vindication of the city's fame for +sound political sense," as if there had been no protest against the +official version of the election returns. Nor did the press of the +state or the country contain any reference to the happenings at Remsen +City. But Remsen City knew, and that was the main point sought by +Victor Dorn. +</P> + +<P> +A committee of the League with copies of the special edition and +transcripts of the proofs in the possession of the League went in +search of David Hull and Hugo Galland. Both were out of town, "resting +in retirement from the fatigue of the campaign." The prosecuting +attorney of the county was seen, took the documents, said he would look +into the matter, bowed the committee out—and did as Kelly counted on +his doing. The grand jury heard, but could not see its way clear to +returning indictments; no one was upon a grand jury in that county +unless he had been passed by Kelly or House. Judge Freilig and Judge +Lansing referred the committee to the grand jury and to the county +prosecutor. +</P> + +<P> +When the League had tried the last avenue to official justice and had +found the way barred, House meeting Kelly in the Palace Hotel cafe', +said: +</P> + +<P> +"Well, Richard, I guess it's all over." Kelly nodded. "You've got away +with the goods." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm surprised at Dorn's taking it so quietly," said House. "I rather +expected he'd make trouble." +</P> + +<P> +Kelly vented a short, grunting laugh. "Trouble—hell!" ejaculated he. +"If he'd 'a' kicked up a fight we'd 'a' had him. But he was too 'cute +for that, damn him. So next time he wins." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, folks ain't got no memories—especially for politics," said House +easily. +</P> + +<P> +"You'll see," retorted Kelly. "The next mayor of this town'll be a +Leaguer, and by a majority that can't be trifled with. So make hay +while the sun shines, Joe. After this administration there'll be a +long stretch of bad weather for haying." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm trying to get hold of Hull," said House, and it was not difficult +to read his train of thought. "I was a LEETLE afraid he was going to +be scared by that document of Dorn's—and was going to do something +crazy." +</P> + +<P> +Again Kelly emitted his queer grunting laugh. "I guess he was a LEETLE +afraid he would, too, and ran away and hid to get back his nerve." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, he's all right. He's a pushing, level-headed fellow, and won't +make no trouble. Don't you think so?" +</P> + +<P> +"Trouble? I should say not. How can he—if he takes the job?" +</P> + +<P> +To which obvious logic no assent was necessary. +</P> + +<P> +Davy's abrupt departure was for the exact reason Mr. Kelly ascribed. +And he had taken Hugo with him because he feared that he would say or +do something to keep the scandal from dying the quick death of all +scandals. There was the less difficulty in dissuading him from staying +to sun himself in the glories of his new rank and title because his +wife had cast him adrift for the time and was stopping at the house of +her father, whose death was hourly expected. +</P> + +<P> +Old Hastings had been in a stupor for several weeks. He astonished +everybody, except Dr. Charlton, by rousing on election night and asking +how the battle had gone. +</P> + +<P> +"And he seemed to understand what I told him," said Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly he understood," replied Charlton. "The only part of him +that's in any sort of condition is his mind, because it's the only part +of him that's been properly exercised. Most people die at the top +first because they've never in all their lives used their minds when +they could possibly avoid it." +</P> + +<P> +In the week following the election he came out of his stupor again. He +said to the nurse: +</P> + +<P> +"It's about supper time, ain't it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," answered she. "They're all down at din—supper. Shall I call +them?" +</P> + +<P> +"No," said he. "I want to go down to her room." +</P> + +<P> +"To Miss Jane's room?" asked the puzzled nurse. +</P> + +<P> +"To my wife's room," said Hastings crossly. +</P> + +<P> +The nurse, a stranger, thought his mind was wandering. "Certainly," +said she soothingly. "In a few minutes—as soon as you've rested a +while." +</P> + +<P> +"You're a fool!" mumbled Hastings. "Call Jinny." +</P> + +<P> +The nurse obeyed. When he repeated his request to Jane, she hesitated. +The tears rolled down his cheeks. "I know what I'm about," he pleaded. +"Send for Charlton. He'll tell you to let me have my way." +</P> + +<P> +Jane decided that it was best to yield. The shrunken figure, weighing +so little that it was terrifying to lift it, was wrapped warmly, and +put in an invalid chair. With much difficulty the chair was got out +into the hall and down the stairs. Then they wheeled it into the room +where he was in the habit of sitting after supper. When he was +opposite the atrocious crayon enlargement of his wife an expression of +supreme content settled upon his features. Said he: +</P> + +<P> +"Go back to your supper, Jinny. Take the nurse woman with you. I want +to be by myself." +</P> + +<P> +The nurse glanced stealthily in from time to time during the next hour. +She saw that his eyes were open, were fixed upon the picture. When +Jane came she ventured to enter. She said: +</P> + +<P> +"Do you mind my sitting with you, father?" +</P> + +<P> +He did not answer. She went to him, touched him. He was dead. +</P> + +<P> +As a rule death is not without mitigations, consolations even. Where it +is preceded by a long and troublesome illness, disrupting the routine +of the family and keeping everybody from doing the things he or she +wishes, it comes as a relief. In this particular case not only was the +death a relief, but also the estate of the dead man provided all the +chief mourners with instant and absorbing occupation. If he had left a +will, the acrimony of the heirs would have been caused by +dissatisfaction with his way of distributing the property. Leaving no +will, he plunged the three heirs—or, rather, the five heirs, for the +husband of Martha and the wife of the son were most important +factors—he plunged the five heirs into a ferment of furious dispute as +to who was to have what. Martha and her husband and the +daughter-in-law were people of exceedingly small mind. Trifles, +therefore, agitated them to the exclusion of larger matters. The three +fell to quarreling violently over the division of silverware, jewelry +and furniture. Jane was so enraged by the "disgusting spectacle" that +she proceeded to take part in it and to demand everything which she +thought it would irritate Martha Galland or Irene Hastings to have to +give up. +</P> + +<P> +The three women and Hugo—for Hugo loved petty wrangling—spent day +after day in the bitterest quarrels. Each morning Jane, ashamed +overnight, would issue from her room resolved to have no part in the +vulgar rowdyism. Before an hour had passed she would be the angriest +of the disputants. Except her own unquestioned belongings there wasn't +a thing in the house or stables about which she cared in the least. +But there was a principle at stake—and for principle she would fight +in the last ditch. +</P> + +<P> +None of them wished to call in arbitrators or executors; why go to that +expense? So, the bickering and wrangling, the insults and tears and +sneers went on from day to day. At last they settled the whole matter +by lot—and by a series of easily arranged exchanges where the results +of the drawings were unsatisfactory. Peace was restored, but not +liking. Each of the three groups—Hugo and Martha, Will and Irene, +Jane in a group by herself—detested the other two. They felt that +they had found each other out. As Martha said to Hugo, "It takes a +thing of this kind to show people up in their true colors." Or, as +Jane said to Doctor Charlton, "What beasts human beings are!" +</P> + +<P> +Said he: "What beasts circumstance makes of some of them sometimes." +</P> + +<P> +"You are charitable," said Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"I am scientific," replied he. "It's very intelligent to go about +distributing praise and blame. To do that is to obey a slightly higher +development of the instinct that leads one to scowl at and curse the +stone he stumps his toe on. The sensible thing to do is to look at the +causes of things—of brutishness in human beings, for example—and to +remove those causes." +</P> + +<P> +"It was wonderful, the way you dragged father back to life and almost +saved him. That reminds me. Wait a second, please." +</P> + +<P> +She went up to her room and got the envelope addressed to Charlton +which she had found in the drawer, as her father directed. Charlton +opened it, took out five bank notes each of a thousand dollars. She +glanced at the money, then at his face. It did not express the emotion +she was expecting. On the contrary, its look was of pleased curiosity. +</P> + +<P> +"Five thousand dollars," he said, reflectively. "Your father certainly +was a queer mixture of surprises and contradictions. Now, who would +have suspected him of a piece of sentiment like this? Pure sentiment. +He must have felt that I'd not be able to save him, and he knew my bill +wouldn't be one-tenth this sum." +</P> + +<P> +"He liked you, and admired you," said Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"He was very generous where he liked and admired." +</P> + +<P> +Charlton put the money back in the envelope, put the envelope in his +pocket. "I'll give the money to the Children's Hospital," said he. +"About six months ago I completed the sum I had fixed on as necessary +to my independence; so, I've no further use for money—except to use it +up as it comes in." +</P> + +<P> +"You may marry some day," suggested Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"Not a woman who wishes to be left richer than independent," replied +he. "As for the children, they'll be brought up to earn their own +independence. I'll leave only incubators and keepsakes when I die. +But no estate. I'm not that foolish and inconsiderate." +</P> + +<P> +"What a queer idea!" exclaimed Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"On the contrary, it's simplest common sense. The idea of giving +people something they haven't earned—that's the queer idea." +</P> + +<P> +"You are SO like Victor Dorn!" +</P> + +<P> +"That reminds me!" exclaimed Charlton. "It was very negligent of me to +forget. The day your father died I dropped in on Victor and told +him—him and Selma Gordon—about it. And both asked me to take you +their sympathy. They said a great deal about your love for your +father, and how sad it was to lose him. They were really distressed." +</P> + +<P> +Jane's face almost brightened. "I've been rather hurt because I hadn't +received a word of sympathy from—them," she said. +</P> + +<P> +"They'd have come, themselves, except that politics has made a very +ugly feeling against them—and Galland's your brother-in-law." +</P> + +<P> +"I understand," said Jane. "But I'm not Galland—and not of that +party." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yes, you are of that party," replied Charlton. "You draw your +income from it, and one belongs to whatever he draws his income from. +Civilization means property—as yet. And it doesn't mean men and +women—as yet. So, to know the man or the woman we look at the +property." +</P> + +<P> +"That's hideously unjust," cried Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't be utterly egotistical," said Charlton. "Don't attach so much +importance to your little, mortal, WEAK personality. Try to realize +that you're a mere chip in the great game of chance. You're a chip with +the letter P on it—which stands for Plutocracy. And you'll be played +as you're labeled." +</P> + +<P> +"You make it very hard for any one to like you." +</P> + +<P> +"Well—good-by, then." +</P> + +<P> +And ignoring her hasty, half-laughing, half-serious protests he took +himself away. She was intensely irritated. A rapid change in her +outward character had been going forward since her father's death—a +change in the direction of intensifying the traits that had always been +really dominant, but had been less apparent because softened by other +traits now rapidly whithering. +</P> + +<P> +The cause of the change was her inheritance. +</P> + +<P> +Martin Hastings, remaining all his life in utter ignorance of the showy +uses of wealth and looking on it with the eyes of a farm hand, had +remained the enriched man of the lower classes, at heart a member of +his original class to the end. The effect of this upon Jane had been +to keep in check all the showy and arrogant, all the upper class, +tendencies which education and travel among the upper classes of the +East and of Europe had implanted in her. So long as plain old Martin +lived, she could not FEEL the position she had—or, rather, would some +day have—in the modern social system. But just as soon as he passed +away, just as soon as she became a great heiress, actually in +possession of that which made the world adore, that which would buy +servility, flattery, awe—just so soon did she begin to be an +upper-class lady. +</P> + +<P> +She had acquired a superficial knowledge of business—enough to enable +her to understand what the various items in the long, long schedule of +her holdings meant. Symbols of her importance, of her power. She had +studied the "great ladies" she had met in her travels and visitings. +She had been impressed by the charm of the artistic, carefully +cultivated air of simplicity and equality affected by the greatest of +these great ladies as those born to wealth and position. To be gentle +and natural, to be gracious—that was the "proper thing." So, she now +adopted a manner that was if anything too kindly. Her pose, her mask, +behind which she was concealing her swollen and still swelling pride +and sense of superiority, as yet fitted badly. She "overacted," as +youth is apt to do. She would have given a shrewd observer—one not +dazzled by her wealth beyond the power of clear sight—the impression +that she was pitying the rest of mankind, much as we all pity and +forbear with a hopeless cripple. +</P> + +<P> +But the average observer would simply have said: "What a sweet, +natural girl, so unspoiled by her wealth!"—just as the hopeless +cripple says, "What a polite person," as he gets the benefit of +effusive good manners that would, if he were shrewd, painfully remind +him that he was an unfortunate creature. +</P> + +<P> +Of all the weeds that infest the human garden snobbishness, the +commonest, is the most prolific, and it is a mighty cross breeder, +too—modifying every flower in the garden, changing colors from rich to +glaring, changing odors from perfumes to sickening-sweet or to +stenches. The dead hands of Martin Hastings scattered showers of +shining gold upon his daughter's garden; and from these seeds was +springing a heavy crop of that most prolific of weeds. +</P> + +<P> +She was beginning to resent Charlton's manner—bluff, unceremonious, +candid, at times rude. He treated women exactly as he treated men, and +he treated all men as intimates, free and easy fellow travelers afoot +upon a dusty, vulgar highway. She had found charm in that manner, so +natural to the man of no pretense, of splendid physical proportions, of +the health of a fine tree. She was beginning to get into the state of +mind at which practically all very rich people in a civilized society +sooner or later arrive—a state of mind that makes it impossible for +any to live with or near them except hirelings and dependents. The +habit of power of any kind breeds intolerance of equality of level +intercourse. This is held in check, often held entirely in check, +where the power is based upon mental superiority; for the very +superiority of the mind keeps alive the sense of humor and the sense of +proportion. Not so the habit of money power. For money power is +brutal, mindless. And as it is the only real power in any and all +aristocracies, aristocracies are inevitably brutal and brutalizing. +</P> + +<P> +If Jane had been poor, or had remained a few years longer—until her +character was better set—under the restraining influence of her +unfrilled and unfrillable father, her passion for power, for +superiority would probably have impelled her to develop her mind into a +source of power and position. Fate abruptly gave her the speediest and +easiest means to power known in our plutocratic civilization. She +would have had to be superhuman in beauty of character or a genius in +mind to have rejected the short and easy way to her goal and struggled +on in the long and hard—and doubtful—way. +</P> + +<P> +She did not herself appreciate the change within herself. She fancied +she was still what she had been two weeks before. For as yet nothing +had occurred to enable her to realize her changed direction, her +changed view of life. Thus, she was still thinking of Victor Dorn as +she had thought of him; and she was impatient to see him. She was now +free FREE! She could, without consulting anybody, have what she +wanted. And she wanted Victor Dorn. +</P> + +<P> +She had dropped from her horse and with her arm through the bridle was +strolling along one of the quieter roads which Victor often took in his +rambles. It was a tonic October day, with floods of sunshine upon the +gorgeous autumnal foliage, never more gorgeous than in that fall of the +happiest alternations of frost and warmth. She heard the pleasant +rustle of quick steps in the fallen leaves that carpeted the byroad. +She knew it was he before she glanced; and his first view of her face +was of its beauty enhanced by a color as delicate and charming as that +in the leaves about them. +</P> + +<P> +She looked at his hands in which he was holding something half +concealed. "What is it?" she said, to cover her agitation. +</P> + +<P> +He opened his hands a little wider. "A bird," said he. "Some hunter +has broken its wing. I'm taking it to Charlton for repairs and a fair +start for its winter down South." +</P> + +<P> +His eyes noted for an instant significantly her sombre riding costume, +then sought her eyes with an expression of simple and friendly +sympathy. The tears came to her eyes, and she turned her face away. +She for the first time had a sense of loss, a moving memory of her +father's goodness to her, of an element of tenderness that had passed +out of her life forever. And she felt abjectly ashamed—ashamed of her +relief at the lifting of the burden of his long struggle against death, +ashamed of her miserable wranglings with Martha and Billy's wife, +ashamed of her forgetfulness of her father in the exultation over her +wealth, ashamed of the elaborately fashionable mourning she was +wearing—and of the black horse she had bought to match. She hoped he +would not observe these last flauntings of the purely formal character +of a grief that was being utilized to make a display of fashionableness. +</P> + +<P> +"You always bring out the best there is in me," said she. +</P> + +<P> +He stood silently before her—not in embarrassment, for he was rarely +self-conscious enough to be embarrassed, but refraining from speech +simply because there was nothing to say. +</P> + +<P> +"I haven't heard any of the details of the election," she went on. +"Did you come out as well as you hoped?" +</P> + +<P> +"Better," said he. "As a result of the election the membership of the +League has already a little more than doubled. We could have quadrupled +it, but we are somewhat strict in our requirements. We want only those +who will stay members as long as they stay citizens of Remsen City. +But I must go on to Charlton or he'll be out on his rounds." +</P> + +<P> +She caught his glance, which was inclined to avoid hers. She gave him +a pleading look. "I'll walk with you part of the way," she said. +</P> + +<P> +He seemed to be searching for an excuse to get away. Whether because +he failed to find it or because he changed his mind, he said: "You'll +not mind going at a good gait?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'll ride," said she. "It's not comfortable, walking fast in these +boots." +</P> + +<P> +He stood by to help her, but let her get into the saddle alone. She +smiled down at him with a little coquetry. "Are you afraid to touch +me—to-day?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +He laughed: "The bird IS merely an excuse," he admitted. "I've got +back my self-control, and I purpose to keep it." +</P> + +<P> +She flushed angrily. His frankness now seemed to her to be flavored +with impertinent assurance. "That's amusing," said she, with an +unpleasant smile. "You have an extraordinary opinion of yourself, +haven't you?" +</P> + +<P> +He shrugged his shoulders as if the subject did not interest him and +set off at a gait that compelled her horse to a rapid walk. She said +presently: +</P> + +<P> +"I'm going to live at the old place alone for the present. You'll come +to see me?" +</P> + +<P> +He looked at her. "No," he said. "As I told you a moment ago, that's +over. You'll have to find some one else to amuse you—for, I +understand perfectly, Jane, that you were only doing what's called +flirting. That sort of thing is a waste of time—for me. I'm not +competent to judge whether it's a waste for you." +</P> + +<P> +She looked coldly down at him. "You have changed since I last saw +you," she said. "I don't mean the change in your manner toward me. I +mean something deeper. I've often heard that politics makes a man +deteriorate. You must be careful, Victor." +</P> + +<P> +"I must think about that," said he. "Thank you for warning me." +</P> + +<P> +His prompt acceptance of her insincere criticism made her straightway +repentant. "No, it's I that have changed," she said. "Oh, I'm +horrid!—simply horrid. I'm in despair about myself." +</P> + +<P> +"Any one who thinks about himself is bound to be," said he +philosophically. "That's why one has to keep busy in order to keep +contented." He halted. "I can save a mile and half an hour by +crossing these fields." He held the wounded bird in one hand very +carefully while he lifted his hat. +</P> + +<P> +She colored deeply. "Victor," she said, "isn't there any way that you +and I can be friends?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," replied he. "As I told you before, by becoming one of us. +Those are impossible terms, of course. But that's the only way by +which we could be of use to each other. Jane, if I, professing what I +do profess, offered to be friends with you on any other terms, you'd be +very foolish not to reject my offer. For, it would mean that I was a +fraud. Don't you see that?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," she admitted. "But when I am with you I see everything exactly +as you represent it." +</P> + +<P> +"It's fortunate for you that I'm not disposed to take advantage of +that—isn't it?" said he, with good-humored irony. +</P> + +<P> +"You don't believe me!" +</P> + +<P> +"Not altogether," he confessed. "To be quite candid, I think that for +some reason or other I rouse in you an irresistible desire to pose. I +doubt if you realize it—wholly. But you'd be hard pressed just where +to draw the line between the sincere and the insincere, wouldn't +you—honestly?" +</P> + +<P> +She sat moodily combing at her horse's mane. +</P> + +<P> +"I know it's cruel," he went on lightly, "to deny anything, however +small, to a young lady who has always had her own way. But in +self-defense I must do it." +</P> + +<P> +"Why DO I take these things from you?" she cried, in sudden +exasperation. And touching her horse with her stick, she was off at a +gallop. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap09"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +IX +</H3> + +<P> +From anger against Victor Dorn, Jane passed to anger against herself. +This was soon followed by a mood of self-denunciation, by astonishment +at the follies of which she had been guilty, by shame for them. She +could not scoff or scorn herself out of the infatuation. But at least +she could control herself against yielding to it. Recalling and +reviewing all he had said, she—that is, her vanity—decided that the +most important remark, the only really important remark, was his +declaration of disbelief in her sincerity. "The reason he has repulsed +me—and a very good reason it is—is that he thinks I am simply amusing +myself. If he thought I was in earnest, he would act very differently. +Very shrewd of him!" +</P> + +<P> +Did she believe this? Certainly not. But she convinced herself that +she believed it, and so saved her pride. From this point she proceeded +by easy stages to doubting whether, if Victor had taken her at her +word, she would have married him. And soon she had convinced herself +that she had gone so far only through her passion for conquest, that at +the first sign of his yielding her good sense would have asserted +itself and she could have retreated. +</P> + +<P> +"He knew me better than I knew myself," said she—not so thoroughly +convinced as her pride would have liked, but far better content with +herself than in those unhappy hours of humiliation after her last talk +with him. +</P> + +<P> +From the beginning of her infatuation there had been only a few days, +hardly more than a few hours, when the voice of prudence and good sense +had been silenced. Yes, he was right; they were not suited to each +other, and a marriage between them would have been absurd. He did +belong to a different, to a lower class, and he could never have +understood her. Refinement, taste, the things of the life of luxury +and leisure were incomprehensible to him. It might be unjust that the +many had to toil in squalor and sordidness while the few were +privileged to cultivate and to enjoy the graces and the beauties; but, +unjust or in some mysterious way just, there was the fact. Her life +was marked out for her; she was of the elect. She would do well to +accept her good fortune and live as the gods had ordained for her. +</P> + +<P> +If Victor had been different in that one respect! ... The +infatuation, too, was a fact. The wise course was flight—and she fled. +</P> + +<P> +That winter, in Chicago and in New York, Jane amused herself—in the +ways devised by latter day impatience with the folly of wasting a +precious part of the one brief life in useless grief or pretense of +grief. In Remsen City she would have had to be very quiet indeed, +under penalty of horrifying public sentiment. But Chicago and New York +knew nothing of her grief, cared nothing about grief of any kind. +People in deep mourning were found in the theaters, in the gay +restaurants, wherever any enjoyment was to be had; and very sensible it +was of them, and proof of the sincerity of their sorrow—for sincere +sorrow seeks consolation lest it go mad and commit suicide—does it not? +</P> + +<P> +Jane, young, beautiful, rich, clever, had a very good time indeed—so +good that in the spring, instead of going back to Remsen City to rest, +she went abroad. More enjoyment—or, at least, more of the things that +fill in the time and spare one the necessity of thinking. +</P> + +<P> +In August she suddenly left her friends at St. Moritz and journeyed +back to Remsen City as fast as train and boat and train could take her. +And on the front veranda of the old house she sat herself down and +looked out over the familiar landscape and listened to the katydids +lulling the woods and the fields, and was bored and wondered why she +had come. +</P> + +<P> +In a reckless mood she went down to see Victor Dorn. "I am cured," she +said to herself. "I must be cured. I simply can't be small and silly +enough to care for a country town labor agitator after all I've been +through—after the attentions I've had and the men of the world I've +met. I'm cured, and I must prove it to myself ." +</P> + +<P> +In the side yard Alice Sherrill and her children and several neighbor +girls were putting up pears and peaches, blackberries and plums. The +air was heavy with delicious odors of ripe and perfect fruit, and the +laughter, the bright healthy faces, the strong graceful bodies in all +manner of poses at the work required made a scene that brought tears to +Jane's eyes. Why tears she could not have explained, but there they +were. At far end of the arbor, looking exactly as he had in the same +place the year before, sat Victor Dorn, writing. He glanced up, saw +her! Into his face came a look of welcome that warmed her chilled heart. +</P> + +<P> +"Hel-LO!" he cried, starting up. "I AM glad to see you." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm mighty glad to be back," said she, lapsing with keen pleasure into +her native dialect. +</P> + +<P> +He took both her hands and shook them cordially, then looked at her +from head to foot admiringly. "The latest from the Rue de la Paix, I +suppose?" said he. +</P> + +<P> +They seated themselves with the table between them. She, under cover +of commonplaces about her travels, examined him with the utmost +calmness. She saw every point wherein he fell short of the men of her +class—the sort of men she ought to like and admire. But, oh, how dull +and stale and narrow and petty they were, beside this man. She knew +now why she had fled. She didn't want to love Victor Dorn, or to marry +him—or his sort of man. But he, his intense aliveness, his keen, +supple mind, had spoiled her for those others. One of them she could +not marry. "I should go mad with boredom. One can no more live +intimately with fashion than one can eat gold and drink diamonds. And, +oh, but I am hungry and thirsty!" +</P> + +<P> +"So you've had a good time?" he was saying. +</P> + +<P> +"Superb," replied she. "Such scenery—such variety of people. I love +Europe. But—I'm glad to be home again." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't see how you can stand it," said Victor. +</P> + +<P> +"Why?" inquired she in surprise. +</P> + +<P> +"Unless I had an intense personal interest in the most active kind of +life in a place like this, I should either fly or take to drink," +replied he. "In this world you've either got to invent occupation for +yourself or else keep where amusements and distractions are thrust at +you from rising till bed-time. And no amusements are thrust at you in +Remsen City." +</P> + +<P> +"But I've been trying the life of being amused," said Jane, "and I've +got enough." +</P> + +<P> +"For the moment," said Victor, laughing. "You'll go back. You've got +to. What else is there for you?" +</P> + +<P> +Her eyes abruptly became serious. "That's what I've come home to find +out," said she. Hesitatingly, "That's why I've come here to-day." +</P> + +<P> +He became curiously quiet—stared at the writing before him on the +table. After a while he said: +</P> + +<P> +"Jane, I was entirely too glad to see you to-day. I had——" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't say that," she pleaded. "Victor, it isn't a weakness——" +</P> + +<P> +His hand resting upon the table clenched into a fist and his brows drew +down. "There can be no question but that it is a weakness and a +folly," he pushed on. "I will not spoil your life and mine. You are +not for me, and I am not for you. The reason we hang on to this is +because each of us has a streak of tenacity. We don't want each other, +but we are so made that we can't let go of an idea once it has gotten +into our heads." +</P> + +<P> +"There is another reason," she said gently. "We are, both of us, +alone—and lonesome, Victor." +</P> + +<P> +"But I'm not alone. I'm not lonesome——" And there he abruptly +halted, to gaze at her with the expression of awakening and +astonishment. "I believe I'm wrong. I believe you're right," he +exclaimed. "I had never thought of that before." +</P> + +<P> +"You've been imagining your work, your cause was enough," she went on +in a quiet rational way that was a revelation—and a +self-revelation—of the real Jane Hastings. "But it isn't. There's a +whole other side of your nature—the—the—the private side—that's the +expression—the private side. And you've been denying to it its +rights." +</P> + +<P> +He reflected, nodded slowly. "I believe that's the truth," he said. +"It explains a curious feeling I've had—a sort of shriveling +sensation." He gazed thoughtfully at her, his face gradually relaxing +into a merry smile. +</P> + +<P> +"What is it?" asked she, smiling in turn. +</P> + +<P> +"We've both got to fall in love and marry," said he. "Not with each +other, of course—for we're not in any way mated. But love and +marriage and the rest of it—that's the solution. I don't need it +quite as much as you do, for I've got my work. But I need it. Now +that I see things in the right light I wonder that I've been so +stupidly blind. Why do we human beings always overlook the obvious?" +</P> + +<P> +"It isn't easy to marry," said Jane, rather drearily. "It isn't easy +to find some one with whom one would be willing to pass one's life. +I've had several chances—one or two of them not entirely mercenary, I +think. But not one that I could bring myself to accept." +</P> + +<P> +"Vanity—vanity," said Victor. "Almost any human being is interesting +and attractive if one will stop thinking about oneself and concentrate +on him or her." +</P> + +<P> +She smiled. "It's evident you've never tried to fall in love." +</P> + +<P> +"The nearest I ever came to it was with you," replied he. "But that +was, of course, out of the question." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't admit that," said she, with an amusing kind of timid obstinacy. +</P> + +<P> +"Let's be honest and natural with each other," urged he. "Now, Jane, +admit that in your heart of hearts you feel you ought not to marry me." +</P> + +<P> +Her glance avoided his. +</P> + +<P> +"Come—own up!" cried he. +</P> + +<P> +"I have thought of that side of it," she conceded. +</P> + +<P> +"And if I hadn't piqued you by thinking of it, too, you'd never have +lingered on any other side of it," said he. "Well! Now that we've +cleared the ground—there's Davy. He's to be nominated by the +Republicans for Governor next week." +</P> + +<P> +"Davy? I had almost forgotten him. I'll think of Davy—and let you +know ... And you? Who is there for you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh—no one you know. My sister has recommended several girls from +time to time. I'll see." +</P> + +<P> +Jane gave the freest and heartiest laugh that had passed her lips in +more than a year. It was thus free and unrestrained because he had not +said what she was fearing he would say—had not suggested the woman +nearest him, the obvious woman. So eager was she to discover what he +thought of Selma, that she could hardly restrain herself from +suggesting her. Before they could say anything more, two men came to +talk with him. Jane could not but leave. +</P> + +<P> +She dined that night at Mrs. Sherlock's—Mrs. Sherlock was Davy's +oldest sister. Davy took her in, they talked—about his +career—through dinner, and he walked home with her in the moonlight. +He was full of his approaching nomination. He had been making what is +known as a good record, as mayor. That is, he had struck out boldly at +sundry petty abuses practised by a low and comparatively uninfluential +class of exploiters of the people. He had been so busy with these +showy trifles that there had been no time for the large abuses. True, +he had publicly warned the gas company about its poor gas, and the +water company about its unwholesome water for the low-lying tenement +districts, and the traction company about the fewness and filthiness of +its cars. The gas company had talked of putting in improved machinery; +the water company had invited estimates on a filtration plant; the +traction company had said a vague something about new cars as soon as +car manufacturers could make definite promises as to delivery. But +nothing had been done—as yet. Obviously a corporation, a large +investment of capital, must be treated with consideration. It would +not do for a conservative, fair minded mayor to rush into demagogery. +So, Davy was content to point proudly to his record of having "made the +big corporations awaken to a sense of their duty." An excellent +record, as good as a reform politician, with a larger career in +prospect, could be expected to make. People spoke well of Mayor Hull +and the three daily papers eulogized him. Davy no longer had qualms of +conscience. He read the eulogies, he listened to the flatteries of the +conservative leading citizens he met at the Lincoln and at the +University, and he felt that he was all that he in young enthusiasm had +set out to be. +</P> + +<P> +When he went to other cities and towns and to county fairs to make +addresses he was introduced as the man who had redeemed Remsen City, as +a shining example of the honest SANE man in politics, as a man the +bosses were afraid of, yet dared not try to down. "You can't fool the +people." And were not the people, notably those who didn't live in +Remsen City and had only read in their newspapers about the reform +Republican mayor—weren't they clamorous for Mayor Hull for governor! +Thus, Davy was high in his own esteem, was in that mood of profound +responsibility to righteousness and to the people wherein a man can get +the enthusiastic endorsement of his conscience for any act he deems it +expedient to commit in safeguarding and advancing his career. His +person had become valuable to his country. His opponents were +therefore anathema maranatha. +</P> + +<P> +As he and Jane walked side by side in the tender moonlight, Jane said: +</P> + +<P> +"What's become of Selma Gordon?" +</P> + +<P> +A painful pause; then Davy, in a tone that secretly amused Jane: +"Selma? I see her occasionally—at a distance. She still writes for +Victor Dorn's sheet, I believe. I never see it." +</P> + +<P> +Jane felt she could easily guess why. "Yes—it is irritating to read +criticisms of oneself," said she sweetly. Davy's self-complacence had +been most trying to her nerves. +</P> + +<P> +Another long silence, then he said: "About—Miss Gordon. I suppose +you were thinking of the things I confided to you last year?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I was," confessed Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"That's all over," said Mayor and prospective Governor Hull. "I found I +was mistaken in her." +</P> + +<P> +"Didn't you tell me that she refused you?" pressed Jane, most unkindly. +</P> + +<P> +"We met again after that," said Davy—by way of proving that even the +most devoted apostle of civic righteousness is yet not without his +share of the common humanity, "and from that time I felt differently +toward her.... I've never been able to understand my folly.... I +wonder if you could forgive me for it?" +</P> + +<P> +Davy was a good deal of a bore, she felt. At least, he seemed so in +this first renewing of old acquaintance. But he was a man of purpose, +a man who was doing much and would do more. And she liked him, and had +for him that feeling of sympathy and comprehension which exists among +people of the same region, brought up in much the same way. Instead of +cutting him off, she temporized. Said she with a serenely careless +laugh that might have let a man more expert in the ways of women into +the secret of how little she cared about him: "You mean forgive you +for dropping me so abruptly and running after her?" +</P> + +<P> +"That's not exactly the way to put it," objected he. +</P> + +<P> +"Put it any way you like," said Jane. "I forgive you. I didn't care +at the time, and I don't care now." +</P> + +<P> +Jane was looking entrancing in that delicate light. Davy was +noting—was feeling—this. Also, he was reflecting—in a high-minded +way—upon the many material, mental and spiritual advantages of a +marriage with her. Just the woman to be a governor's wife—a senator's +wife—a president's wife. Said he: +</P> + +<P> +"Jane, my feeling for you has never changed." +</P> + +<P> +"Really?" said Jane. "Why, I thought you told me at one time that you +were in love with me?" +</P> + +<P> +"And I always have been, dear—and am," said Davy, in his deepest, +tenderest tones. "And now that I am winning a position worthy of +you——" +</P> + +<P> +"I'll see," cut in Jane. "Let's not talk about it tonight." She felt +that if he kept on she might yield to the temptation to say something +mocking, something she would regret if it drove him away finally. +</P> + +<P> +He was content. The ice had been broken. The Selma Gordon business +had been disposed of. The way was clear for straight-away love-making +the next time they met. Meanwhile he would think about her, would get +steam up, would have his heart blazing and his words and phrases all in +readiness. +</P> + +<P> +</P> + +<P> +Every human being has his or her fundamental vanity that must be kept +alive, if life is to be or to seem to be worth living. In man this +vanity is usually some form of belief in his mental ability, in woman +some form of belief in her physical charm. Fortunately—or, rather, +necessarily—not much is required to keep this vanity alive—or to +restore it after a shock, however severe. Victor Dorn had been +compelled to give Jane Hastings' vanity no slight shock. But it +recovered at once. Jane saw that his failure to yield was due not to +lack of potency in her charms, but to extraordinary strength of purpose +in his character. Thus, not only was she able to save herself from any +sense of humiliation, but also she was without any feeling of +resentment against him. She liked him and admired him more than ever. +She saw his point of view; she admitted that he was right—IF it were +granted that a life such as he had mapped for himself was better for +him than the career he could have made with her help. +</P> + +<P> +Her heart, however, was hastily, even rudely thrust to the background +when she discovered that her brother had been gambling in wheat with +practically her entire fortune. With an adroitness that irritated her +against herself, as she looked back, he had continued to induce her to +disregard their father's cautionings and to ask him to take full charge +of her affairs. He had not lost her fortune, but he had almost lost +it. But for an accidental stroke, a week of weather destructive to +crops all over the country, she would have been reduced to an income of +not more than ten or fifteen thousand a year—twenty times the income +of the average American family of five, but for Miss Hastings +straitened subsistence and a miserable state of shornness of all the +radiance of life. And, pushing her inquiries a little farther, she +learned that her brother would still have been rich, because he had +taken care to settle a large sum on his wife—in such a way that if she +divorced him it would pass back to him. +</P> + +<P> +In the course of her arrangings to meet this situation and to prevent +its recurrence she saw much of Doctor Charlton. He gave her excellent +advice and found for her a man to take charge of her affairs so far as +it was wise for her to trust any one. The man was a bank cashier, +Robert Headley by name—one of those rare beings who care nothing for +riches for themselves and cannot invest their own money wisely, but +have a genius for fidelity and wise counsel. +</P> + +<P> +"It's a pity he's married," said Charlton. "If he weren't I'd urge you +to take him as a husband." +</P> + +<P> +Jane laughed. A plainer, duller man than Headley it would have been +hard to find, even among the respectabilities of Remsen City. +</P> + +<P> +"Why do you laugh?" said Charlton. "What is there absurd in a sensible +marriage?" +</P> + +<P> +"Would you marry a woman because she was a good housekeeper?" +</P> + +<P> +"That would be one of the requirements," said Charlton. "I've sense +enough to know that, no matter how much I liked a woman before +marriage, it couldn't last long if she were incompetent. She'd irritate +me every moment in the day. I'd lie awake of nights despising her. +And how she would hate me!" +</P> + +<P> +"I can't imagine you a husband," laughed Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"That doesn't speak well for your imagination," rejoined Charlton. "I +have perfect health—which means that I have a perfect disposition, for +only people with deranged interiors are sour and snappy and moody. And +I am sympathetic and understanding. I appreciate that women are +rottenly brought up and have everything to learn—everything that's +worth while if one is to live comfortably and growingly. So, I +shouldn't expect much at the outset beyond a desire to improve and a +capacity to improve. Yes, I've about all the virtues for a model +husband—a companionable, helpful mate for a woman who wants to be more +of a person every day she lives." +</P> + +<P> +"No, thanks," said Jane, mockingly. "The advertisement reads well, but +I don't care to invest." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I looked you over long ago," said Charlton with a coolness that +both amused and exasperated her. "You wouldn't do at all. You are very +attractive to look at and to talk with. Your money would be useful to +some plans I've got for some big sanatoriums along the line of +Schulze's up at Saint Christopher. But—-" He shook his head, smiling +at her through a cloud of cigarette smoke. +</P> + +<P> +"Go on," urged Jane. "What's wrong with me?" +</P> + +<P> +"You've been miseducated too far and too deeply. You KNOW too much +that isn't so. You've got the upper class American woman habit of +thinking about yourself all the time. You are an indifferent +housekeeper, and you think you are good at it. You don't know the +practical side of life—cooking, sewing, house furnishing, marketing. +You're ambitious for a show career—the sort Davy Hull—excuse me, +Governor David Hull—is making so noisily. There's just the man for +you. You ought to marry. Marry Hull." +</P> + +<P> +Jane was furiously angry. She did not dare show it; Charlton would +merely laugh and walk away, and perhaps refuse to be friends with her. +It exasperated her to the core, the narrow limitations of the power of +money. She could, through the power of her money, do exactly as she +pleased to and with everybody except the only kind of people she cared +about dominating; these she was apparently the less potent with +because of her money. It seemed to put them on their mettle and on +their guard. +</P> + +<P> +She swallowed her anger. "Yes, I've got to get married," said she. +"And I don't know what to do about it." +</P> + +<P> +"Hull," said Charlton. +</P> + +<P> +"Is that the best advice you can give?" said she disdainfully. +</P> + +<P> +"He needs you, and you need him. You like him—don't you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Very much." +</P> + +<P> +"Then—the thing's done. Davy isn't the man to fail to seize an +opportunity so obviously to his advantage. Not that he hasn't a heart. +He has a big one—does all sorts of gracious, patronizing, kind +things—does no end of harm. But he'd no more let his emotions rule +his life than—than—Victor Dorn—or I, for that matter." +</P> + +<P> +Jane colored; a pathetic sadness tinged the far-away expression of her +eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"No doubt he's half in love with you already. Most men are who know +you. A kindly smile and he'll be kneeling." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't want David Hull," cried Jane. "Ever since I can remember +they've been at me to marry him. He bores me. He doesn't make me +respect him. He never could control me—or teach me—or make me look +up to him in any way. I don't want him, and I won't have him." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm afraid you've got to do it," said Charlton. "You act as if you +realized it and were struggling and screaming against manifest destiny +like a child against a determined mother." +</P> + +<P> +Jane's eyes had a look of terror. "You are joking," said she. "But it +frightens me, just the same." +</P> + +<P> +"I am not joking," replied he. "I can hear the wedding bells—and so +can you." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't!" pleaded Jane. "I've so much confidence in your insight that I +can't bear to hear you saying such things even to tease me.... Why +haven't you told me about these sanatoriums you want?" +</P> + +<P> +"Because I've been hoping I could devise some way of getting them +without the use of money. Did it ever occur to you that almost nothing +that's been of real and permanent value to the world was built with +money? The things that money has done have always been badly done." +</P> + +<P> +"Let me help you," said Jane earnestly. "Give me something to do. +Teach me how to do something. I am SO bored!—and so eager to have an +occupation. I simply can't lead the life of my class. +</P> + +<P> +"You want to be a lady patroness—a lady philanthropist," said +Charlton, not greatly impressed by her despair. "That's only another +form of the life of your class—and a most offensive form." +</P> + +<P> +"Your own terms—your own terms, absolutely," cried Jane in desperation. +</P> + +<P> +"No—marry Hull and go into upper and middle class politics. You'll be +a lady senator or a lady ambassador or cabinet officer, at least." +</P> + +<P> +"I will not marry David Hull—or anybody, just yet," cried Jane. "Why +should I? I've still got ten years where there's a chance of my being +able to attract some man who—attracts me. And after that I can buy as +good a husband as any that offers now. Doctor Charlton, I'm in +desperate, deadly earnest. And I ask you to help me." +</P> + +<P> +"My own terms?" +</P> + +<P> +"I give you my word." +</P> + +<P> +"You'll have to give your money outright. No strings attached. No +chance to be a philanthropist. Also, you'll have to work—have to +educate yourself as I instruct you." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes—yes. Whatever you say." +</P> + +<P> +Charlton looked at her dubiously. "I'm a fool to have anything to do +with this," he said. "You aren't in any way a suitable person—any +more than I'm the sort of man you want to assist you in your schemes. +You don't realize what tests you're to be put through." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't care," said Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"It's a chance to try my theory," mused he. "You know, I insist we are +all absolutely the creatures of circumstance—that character adapts +itself to circumstance—that to change a man or a town or a nation—or +a world—you have only to change their fundamental circumstances." +</P> + +<P> +"You'll try me?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'll think about it," said Charlton. "I'll talk with Victor Dorn +about it." +</P> + +<P> +"Whatever you do, don't talk to him," cried Jane, in terror. "He has no +faith in me—" She checked herself, hastily added—"in anybody outside +his own class." +</P> + +<P> +"I never do anything serious without consulting Victor," said Charlton +firmly. "He's got the best mind of any one I know, and it is foolish +to act without taking counsel of the best." +</P> + +<P> +"He'll advise against it," said Jane bitterly. +</P> + +<P> +"But I may not take his advice literally," said Charlton. "I'm not in +mental slavery to him. I often adapt his advice to my needs instead of +adopting it outright." +</P> + +<P> +And with that she had to be content. +</P> + +<P> +She passed a day and night of restlessness, and called him on the +telephone early the following morning. As she heard his voice she said: +</P> + +<P> +"Did you see Victor Dorn last night?" +</P> + +<P> +"Where are you?" asked Charlton. +</P> + +<P> +"In my room," was her impatient answer. +</P> + +<P> +"In bed?" +</P> + +<P> +"I haven't gotten up yet," said she. "What IS the matter?" +</P> + +<P> +"Had your breakfast?" +</P> + +<P> +"No. I've rung for it. It'll be here in a few minutes." +</P> + +<P> +"I thought so," said Charlton. +</P> + +<P> +"This is very mysterious—or very absurd," said Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"Please ring off and call your kitchen and tell them to put your +breakfast on the dining-room table for you in three-quarters of an +hour. Then get up, take your bath and your exercises—dress yourself +for the day—and go down and eat your breakfast. How can you hope to +amount to anything unless you live by a rational system? And how can +you have a rational system unless you begin the day right?" +</P> + +<P> +"DID you see Victor Dorn?" said Jane—furious at his impertinence but +restraining herself. +</P> + +<P> +"And after you have breakfasted," continued Charlton, "call me up +again, and I'll answer your questions." +</P> + +<P> +With that he hung up his receiver. Jane threw herself angrily back +against her pillow. She would lie there for an hour, then call him +again. But—if he should ask her whether she had obeyed his orders? +True, she might lie to him; but wouldn't that be too petty? She +debated with herself for a few minutes, then obeyed him to the letter. +As she was coming through the front hall after breakfast, he appeared +in the doorway. +</P> + +<P> +"You didn't trust me!" she cried reproachfully. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yes," replied he. "But I preferred to talk with you face to face." +</P> + +<P> +"DID you see Mr. Dorn?" +</P> + +<P> +Charlton nodded. "He refused to advise me. He said he had a personal +prejudice in your favor that would make his advice worthless." +</P> + +<P> +Jane glowed—but not quite so thrillingly as she would have glowed in +the same circumstances a year before. +</P> + +<P> +"Besides, he's in no state of mind to advise anybody about anything +just now," said Charlton. +</P> + +<P> +Jane glanced sharply at him. "What do you mean?" she said. +</P> + +<P> +"It's not my secret," replied Charlton. +</P> + +<P> +"You mean he has fallen in love?" +</P> + +<P> +"That's shrewd," said Charlton. "But women always assume a love +affair." +</P> + +<P> +"With whom?" persisted Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, a very nice girl. No matter. I'm not here to talk about +anybody's affairs but yours—and mine." +</P> + +<P> +"Answer just one question," said Jane, impulsively. "Did he tell you +anything about—me?" +</P> + +<P> +Charlton stared—then whistled. "Are YOU in love with him, too?" he +cried. +</P> + +<P> +Jane flushed—hesitated—then met his glance frankly. "I WAS," said +she. +</P> + +<P> +"WAS?" +</P> + +<P> +"I mean that I'm over it," said she. "What have you decided to do +about me?" +</P> + +<P> +Charlton did not answer immediately. He eyed her narrowly—an +examination which she withstood well. Then he glanced away and seemed +to be reflecting. Finally he came back to her question. Said he: +</P> + +<P> +"To give you a trial. To find out whether you'll do." +</P> + +<P> +She drew a long sigh of relief. +</P> + +<P> +"Didn't you guess?" he went on, smilingly, nodding his round, +prize-fighter head at her. "Those suggestions about bed and +breakfast—they were by way of a beginning." +</P> + +<P> +"You must give me a lot to do," urged she. "I mustn't have a minute of +idle time." +</P> + +<P> +He laughed. "Trust me," he said. +</P> + +<P> +</P> + +<P> +While Jane was rescuing her property from her brother and was +safeguarding it against future attempts by him, or by any of that +numerous company whose eyes are ever roving in search of the most +inviting of prey, the lone women with baggage—while Jane was thus +occupied, David Hull was, if possible, even busier and more absorbed. +He was being elected governor. His State was being got ready to say to +the mayor of Remsen City, "Well done, good and faithful servant. Thou +hast been faithful over a few things; I will make thee ruler over many." +</P> + +<P> +The nomination was not obtained for him without difficulty. The +Republican party—like the Democratic—had just been brought back under +"safe and sane and conservative" leadership after a prolonged debauch +under the influence of that once famous and revered reformer, Aaron +Whitman, who had not sobered up or released the party for its sobering +until his wife's extravagant entertaining at Washington had forced him +to accept large "retainers" from the plutocracy. The machine leaders +had in the beginning forwarded the ambitions of Whitman under the +impression that his talk of a "square deal" was "just the usual dope" +and that Aaron was a "level-headed fellow at bottom." It had +developed—after they had let Aaron become a popular idol, not to be +trifled with—it had developed that he was almost sincere—as sincere +as can be expected of an ambitious, pushing fellow. Now came David +Hull, looking suspiciously like Whitman at his worst-and a more +hopeless case, because he had money a plenty, while Whitman was luckily +poor and blessed with an extravagant wife. True, Hull had the backing +of Dick Kelly—and Kelly was not the man "to hand the boys a lemon." +Still Hull looked like a "holy boy," talked like one, had the popular +reputation of having acted like one as mayor—and the "reform game" was +certainly one to attract a man who could afford it and was in politics +for position only. Perhaps Dick wanted to be rid of Hull for the rest +of his term, and was "kicking him upstairs." It would be a shabby +trick upon his fellow leaders, but justifiable if there should be some +big "job" at Remsen City that could be "pulled off" only if Hull were +out of the way. +</P> + +<P> +The leaders were cold until Dick got his masters in the Remsen City +branch of the plutocracy to pass the word to the plutocracy's general +agents at Indianapolis—a certain well-known firm of political bankers. +Until that certification came the leaders, having no candidate who +stood a chance of winning, were ready to make a losing campaign and +throw the election to the Democrats—not a serious misfortune at a time +when the machines of the two parties had become simply friendly rival +agents for the same rich master. +</P> + +<P> +There was a sharp fight in the convention. The anti-machine element, +repudiating Whitman under the leadership of a shrewd and honest young +man named Joe Bannister, had attacked Hull in the most shocking way. +Bannister had been reading Victor Dorn's New Day and had got a notion +of David Hull as man and mayor different from the one made current by +the newspapers. He made a speech on the floor of the convention which +almost caused a riot and nearly cost Davy the nomination. That +catastrophe was averted by adjournment. Davy gave Dick Kelly's second +lieutenant, Osterman, ten thousand in cash, of which Osterman said +there was pressing need "for perfectly legitimate purposes, I assure +you, Mr. Mayor." Next day the Bannister faction lost forty and odd +sturdy yeomen from districts where the crops had been painfully short, +and Davy was nominated. +</P> + +<P> +In due time the election was held, and Mayor Hull became Governor Hull +by a satisfactory majority for so evenly divided a State. He had +spent—in contributions to the machine campaign fund—upwards of one +hundred thousand dollars. But that seemed a trifling sacrifice to make +for reform principles and for keeping the voice of the people the voice +of God. He would have been elected if he had not spent a cent, for the +Democratic machine, bent on reorganizing back to a sound basis with all +real reformers or reformers tainted with sincerity eliminated, had +nominated a straight machine man—and even the politicians know that +the people who decide elections will not elect a machine man if they +have a chance to vote for any one else. It saddened David Hull, in the +midst of victory, that his own town and county went against him, +preferring the Democrat, whom it did not know, as he lived at the other +end of the State. Locally the offices at stake were all captured by +the "Dorn crowd." At last the Workingmen's League had a judge; at last +it could have a day in court. There would not be a repetition of the +great frauds of the Hull-Harbinger campaign. +</P> + +<P> +By the time David had sufficient leisure to reopen the heart department +of his ambition, Jane was deep in the effort to show Doctor Charlton +how much intelligence and character she had. She was serving an +apprenticeship as trained nurse in the Children's Hospital, where he +was chief of the staff, and was taking several extra courses with his +young assistants. It was nearly two weeks after David's first attempt +to see her when her engagements and his at last permitted this meeting. +Said he: +</P> + +<P> +"What's this new freak?" +</P> + +<P> +"I can't tell you yet," replied she. "I'm not sure, myself." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't see how you can endure that fellow Charlton. They say he's as +big a crank in medicine as he is in politics." +</P> + +<P> +"It's all of a piece," said Jane, tranquilly. "He says he gets his +political views from his medicine and his medical ideas from his +politics." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you think he's a frightful bounder?" +</P> + +<P> +"Frightful," said Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"Fresh, impudent—conceited. And he looks like a prize fighter." +</P> + +<P> +"At some angles—yes," conceded Jane. "At others, he's almost +handsome." +</P> + +<P> +"The other day, when I called at the hospital and they wouldn't take my +name in to you—" David broke off to vent his indignation—"Did you +ever hear of such impertinence!" +</P> + +<P> +"And you the governor-elect," laughed Jane. "Shall I tell you what +Doctor Charlton said? He said that a governor was simply a public +servant, and anything but a public representative—usually a public +disgrace. He said that a servant's business was attending to his own +job and not hanging round preventing his fellow servants from attending +to their jobs." +</P> + +<P> +"I knew he had low and vulgar views of public affairs," said David. +"What I started to say was that I saw him talking to you that day, +across the court, and you seemed to be enjoying his conversation." +</P> + +<P> +</P> + +<P> +"ENJOYING it? I love it," cried Jane. "He makes me laugh, he makes me +cold with rage, he gives me a different sensation every time I see him." +</P> + +<P> +"You LIKE—him?" +</P> + +<P> +"Immensely. And I've never been so interested or so happy in my life." +She looked steadily at him. "Nothing could induce me to give it up. +I've put everything else out of my mind." +</P> + +<P> +Since the dismal end of his adventure with Selma Gordon, David had +become extremely wary in his dealings with the female sex. He never +again would invite a refusal; he never again would put himself in a +position where a woman might feel free to tell him her private opinion +of him. He reflected upon Jane's words. They could have but the one +meaning. Not so calmly as he would have liked, but without any +embarrassing constraint, he said: +</P> + +<P> +"I'm glad you've found what suits you, at last. It isn't exactly the +line I'd have thought a girl such as you would choose. You're sure you +are not making a mistake?" +</P> + +<P> +"Quite," said Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"I should think you'd prefer marriage—and a home—and a social +circle—and all that," ventured David. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll probably not marry." +</P> + +<P> +"No. You'd hardly take a doctor." +</P> + +<P> +"The only one I'd want I can't get," said Jane. +</P> + +<P> +She wished to shock David, and she saw with pleasure that she had +succeeded. Indeed so shocked was he that in a few minutes he took +leave. And as he passed from her sight he passed from her mind. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Victor Dorn described Davy Hull's inaugural address as "an +uninteresting sample of the standard reform brand of artificial milk +for political infants." The press, however, was enthusiastic, and +substantial people everywhere spoke of it as having the "right ring," +as being the utterance of a "safe, clean man whom the politicians can't +frighten or fool." In this famous speech David urged everybody who was +doing right to keep on doing so, warned everybody who was doing wrong +that they would better look out for themselves, praised those who were +trying to better conditions in the right way, condemned those who were +trying to do so in the wrong way. It was all most eloquent, most +earnest. Some few people were disappointed that he had not explained +exactly what and whom he meant by right and by wrong; but these carping +murmurs were drowned in the general acclaim. A man whose fists +clenched and whose eyes flashed as did David Hull's must "mean +business"—and if no results came of these words, it wouldn't be his +fault, but the machinations of wicked plutocrats and their political +agents. +</P> + +<P> +"Isn't it disgusting!" exclaimed Selma, reading an impassioned +paragraph aloud to Victor Dorn. "It almost makes me despair when I see +how people—our sort of people, too—are taken in by such guff. And +they stand with their empty picked pockets and cheer this man, who's +nothing but a stool pigeon for pickpockets." +</P> + +<P> +"It's something gained," observed Victor tranquilly, "when politicians +have to denounce the plutocracy in order to get audiences and offices. +The people are beginning to know what's wrong. They read into our +friend Hull's generalities what they think he ought to mean—what they +believe he does mean. The next step is—he'll have to do something or +they'll find him out." +</P> + +<P> +"He do anything?" Selma laughed derisively. "He hasn't the courage—or +the honesty." +</P> + +<P> +"Well—'patience and shuffle the cards,' as Sancho Panza says. We're +winning Remsen City. And our friends are winning a little ground here, +and a little there and a little yonder—and soon—only too soon—this +crumbling false politics will collapse and disappear. Too soon, I +fear. Before the new politics of a work-compelling world for the +working class only is ready to be installed." +</P> + +<P> +Selma had been only half attending. She now said abruptly, with a +fluttering movement that suggested wind blowing strongly across open +prairies under a bright sky: +</P> + +<P> +"I've decided to go away." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, you must take a vacation," said Victor. "I've been telling you +that for several years. And you must go away to the sea or the +mountains where you'll not be harassed by the fate of the human race +that you so take to heart." +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't mean a vacation," said Selma. "I meant to Chicago—to work +there." +</P> + +<P> +"You've had a good offer?" said Victor. "I knew it would come. You've +got to take it. You need the wider experience—the chance to have a +paper of your own—or a work of your own of some kind. It's been +selfishness, my keeping you all this time." +</P> + +<P> +Selma had turned away. With her face hidden from him she said, "Yes, I +must go." +</P> + +<P> +"When?" said Victor. +</P> + +<P> +"As soon as you can arrange for some one else." +</P> + +<P> +"All right. I'll look round. I've no hope of finding any one to take +your place, but I can get some one who will do." +</P> + +<P> +"You can train any one," said Selma. "Just as you trained me." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll see what's to be done," was all he said. +</P> + +<P> +A week passed—two weeks. She waited; he did not bring up the subject. +But she knew he was thinking of it; for there had been a change in his +manner toward her—a constraint, a self-consciousness theretofore +utterly foreign to him in his relations with any one. Selma was +wretched, and began to show it first in her appearance, then in her +work. At last she burst out: +</P> + +<P> +"Give that article back to me," she cried. "It's rotten. I can't +write any more. Why don't you tell me so frankly? Why don't you send +me away?" +</P> + +<P> +"You're doing better work than I am," said he. "You're eager to be +off—aren't you? Will you stay a few days longer? I must get away to +the country—alone—to get a fresh grip on myself. I'll come back as +soon as I can, and you'll be free. There'll be no chance for vacations +after you're gone." +</P> + +<P> +"Very well," said she. She felt that he would think this curtness +ungracious, but more she could not say. +</P> + +<P> +He was gone four days. When he reappeared at the office he was +bronzed, but under the bronze showed fatigue—in a man of his youth and +strength sure sign of much worry and loss of sleep. He greeted her +almost awkwardly, his eyes avoiding hers, and sat down to opening his +accumulated mail. Although she was furtively observing him she started +when he abruptly said: +</P> + +<P> +"You know you are free to go—at any time." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll wait until you catch up with your work," she suggested. +</P> + +<P> +"No—never mind. I'll get along. I've kept you out of all reason.... +The sooner you go the better. I've got to get used to it, and—I hate +suspense." +</P> + +<P> +"Then I'll go in the morning," said Selma. "I've no arrangements to +make—except a little packing that'll take less than an hour. Will you +say good-by for me to any one who asks? I hate fusses, and I'll be back +here from time to time." +</P> + +<P> +He looked at her curiously, started to speak, changed his mind and +resumed reading the letter in his hand. She turned to her work, sat +pretending to write. In fact she was simply scribbling. Her eyes were +burning and she was fighting against the sobs that came surging. He +rose and began to walk up and down the room. She hastily crumpled and +flung away the sheet on which she had be scrawling; he might happen to +glance at her desk and see. She bent closer to the paper and began to +write—anything that came into her head. Presently the sound of his +step ceased. An uncontrollable impulse to fly seized her. She would +get up—would not put on her hat—would act as if she were simply going +to the street door for a moment. And she would not return—would +escape the danger of a silly breakdown. She summoned all her courage, +suddenly rose and moved swiftly toward the door. At the threshold she +had to pause; she could not control her heart from a last look at him. +</P> + +<P> +He was seated at his table, was staring at its litter of letters, +papers and manuscripts with an expression so sad that it completely +transformed him. She forgot herself. She said softly: +</P> + +<P> +"Victor!" +</P> + +<P> +He did not hear. +</P> + +<P> +"Victor," she repeated a little more loudly. +</P> + +<P> +He roused himself, glanced at her with an attempt at his usual friendly +smile of the eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Is there something wrong that you haven't told me about?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"It'll pass," said he. "I'll get used to it." With an attempt at the +manner of the humorous philosopher, "Man is the most adaptable of all +the animals. That's why he has distanced all his relations. I didn't +realize how much our association meant to me until you set me to +thinking about it by telling me you were going. I had been taking you +for granted—a habit we easily fall into with those who simply work +with and for us and don't insist upon themselves." +</P> + +<P> +She was leaning against the frame of the open door into the hall, her +hands behind her back. She was gazing out of the window across the +room. +</P> + +<P> +"You," he went on, "are as I'd like to be—as I imagined I was. Your +sense of duty to the cause orders you elsewhere, and you go—like a +good soldier, with never a backward glance." +</P> + +<P> +She shook her head, but did not speak. +</P> + +<P> +"With never a backward glance," he repeated. "While I—" He shut his +lips together firmly and settled himself with fierce resolution to his +work. "I beg your pardon," he said. "This is—cowardly. As I said +before, I shall get myself in hand again, and go on." +</P> + +<P> +She did not move. The breeze of the unseasonably warm and brilliant +day fluttered her thick, loosely gathered hair about her brow. Her +strange, barbaric little face suggested that the wind was blowing +across it a throng of emotions like the clouds of a driven storm. +</P> + +<P> +A long silence. He suddenly flung out his arms in a despairing gesture +and let them fall to the table. At the crash she startled, gazed +wildly about. +</P> + +<P> +"Selma!" he cried. "I must say it. I love you." +</P> + +<P> +A profound silence fell. After a while she went softly across the room +and sat down at her desk. +</P> + +<P> +"I think I've loved you from the first months of your coming here to +work—to the old office, I mean. But we were always together—every +day—all day long—working together—I thinking and doing nothing +without your sharing in it. So, I never realized. Don't +misunderstand. I'm not trying to keep you here. It's simply that I've +got the habit of telling you everything—of holding back nothing from +you." +</P> + +<P> +"I was going," she said, "because I loved you." +</P> + +<P> +He looked at her in amazement. +</P> + +<P> +"That day you told me you had decided to get married—and asked my +advice about the girls among our friends—that was the day I began to +feel I'd have to go. It's been getting worse ever since." +</P> + +<P> +Once more silence, both looking uneasily about, their glances avoiding +each other. The door of the printing room opened, and Holman, the +printer, came in, his case in his grimy hand. Said he: +</P> + +<P> +"Where's the rest of that street car article?" +</P> + +<P> +"I beg your pardon," said Selma, starting up and taking some manuscript +from her desk and handing it to him. +</P> + +<P> +"Louis," said Victor, as Holmes was retreating, "Selma and I are going +to be married." +</P> + +<P> +Louis paused, but did not look round. "That ain't what'd be called +news," said he. "I've known it for more than three years." +</P> + +<P> +He moved on toward his room. "I'll be ready for that leading article +in half an hour. So, you'd better get busy." +</P> + +<P> +He went out, closing the door behind him. Selma and Victor looked at +each other and burst out laughing. Then—still laughing—they took +hold of hands like two children. And the next thing they knew they +were tight in each other's arms, and Selma was sobbing wildly. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap10"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +X +</H3> + +<P> +When Jane had finished her apprenticeship, Doctor Charlton asked her to +marry him. Said Jane: +</P> + +<P> +"I never knew you to be commonplace before. I've felt this coming for +some time, but I expected it would be in the form of an offer to marry +me." +</P> + +<P> +She promptly accepted him—and she has not, and will not regret it. So +far as a single case can prove a theory, Jane's case has proved +Charlton's theory that environment determines character. His +alternations of tenderness and brusqueness, of devotion to her and +devotion to his work, his constant offering of something new and his +unremitting insistence upon something new from her each day make it +impossible for her to develop the slightest tendency toward that +sleeping sickness wherewith the germ of conventionality inflicts any +mind it seizes upon. +</P> + +<P> +David Hull, now temporarily in eclipse through over caution in radical +utterance, is gathering himself for a fresh spurt that will doubtless +place him at the front in politics again. He has never married. The +belief in Remsen City is that he is a victim of disappointed love for +Jane Hastings. But the truth is that he is unable to take his mind off +himself long enough to be come sufficiently interested in another human +being. There is no especial reason why he has thus far escaped the +many snares that have been set for him because of his wealth and +position. Who can account for the vagaries of chance? +</P> + +<P> +The Workingmen's League now controls the government of Remsen City. It +gives an honest and efficient administration, and keeps the public +service corporations as respectful of the people as the laws will +permit. But, as Victor Dorn always warned the people, little can be +done until the State government is conquered—and even then there will +be the national government to see that all the wrongs of vested rights +are respected and that the people shall have little to say, in the +management of their own affairs. As all sensible people know, any +corrupt politician, or any greedy plutocrat, or any agent of either is +a safer and better administrator of the people's affairs than the +people themselves. +</P> + +<P> +The New Day is a daily with a circulation for its weekly edition that +is national. And Victor and Selma are still its editors, though they +have two little boys to bring up. +</P> + +<P> +Jane and Selma see a great deal of each other, and are friendly, and +try hard to like each other. But they are not friends. +</P> + +<P> +Dick Kelly's oldest son, graduated from Harvard, is the leader of the +Remsen City fashionable set. Joe House's only son is a professional +gambler and sets the pace among the sports. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR><BR> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Conflict, by David Graham Phillips + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CONFLICT *** + +***** This file should be named 433-h.htm or 433-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/4/3/433/ + +Produced by Charles Keller. HTML version by Al Haines. + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +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. 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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 www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Conflict + +Author: David Graham Phillips + +Posting Date: September 27, 2008 [EBook #433] +Release Date: February, 1996 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CONFLICT *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Keller. HTML version by Al Haines. + + + + + + + + +THE CONFLICT + + +by + +David Graham Phillips + + + + +I + +Four years at Wellesley; two years about equally divided among Paris, +Dresden and Florence. And now Jane Hastings was at home again. At +home in the unchanged house--spacious, old-fashioned--looking down from +its steeply sloping lawns and terraced gardens upon the sooty, smoky +activities of Remsen City, looking out upon a charming panorama of +hills and valleys in the heart of South Central Indiana. Six years of +striving in the East and abroad to satisfy the restless energy she +inherited from her father; and here she was, as restless as ever--yet +with everything done that a woman could do in the way of an active +career. She looked back upon her years of elaborate preparation; she +looked forward upon--nothing. That is, nothing but marriage--dropping +her name, dropping her personality, disappearing in the personality of +another. She had never seen a man for whom she would make such a +sacrifice; she did not believe that such a man existed. + +She meditated bitterly upon that cruel arrangement of Nature's whereby +the father transmits his vigorous qualities in twofold measure to the +daughter, not in order that she may be a somebody, but solely in order +that she may transmit them to sons. "I don't believe it," she decided. +"There's something for ME to do." But what? She gazed down at Remsen +City, connected by factories and pierced from east, west and south by +railways. She gazed out over the fields and woods. Yes, there must be +something for her besides merely marrying and breeding--just as much +for her as for a man. But what? If she should marry a man who would +let her rule him, she would despise him. If she should marry a man she +could respect--a man who was of the master class like her father--how +she would hate him for ignoring her and putting her in her ordained +inferior feminine place. She glanced down at her skirts with an angry +sense of enforced masquerade. And then she laughed--for she had a keen +sense of humor that always came to her rescue when she was in danger of +taking herself too seriously. + +Through the foliage between her and the last of the stretches of +highroad winding up from Remsen City she spied a man climbing in her +direction--a long, slim figure in cap, Norfolk jacket and +knickerbockers. Instantly--and long before he saw her--there was a +grotesque whisking out of sight of the serious personality upon which +we have been intruding. In its stead there stood ready to receive the +young man a woman of the type that possesses physical charm and knows +how to use it--and does not scruple to use it. For a woman to conquer +man by physical charm is far and away the easiest, the most fleeting +and the emptiest of victories. But for woman thus to conquer without +herself yielding anything whatsoever, even so little as an alluring +glance of the eye--that is quite another matter. It was this sort of +conquest that Jane Hastings delighted in--and sought to gain with any +man who came within range. If the men had known what she was about, +they would have denounced her conduct as contemptible and herself as +immoral, even brazen. But in their innocence they accused only their +sophisticated and superbly masculine selves and regarded her as the +soul of innocence. This was the more absurd in them because she +obviously excelled in the feminine art of inviting display of charm. +To glance at her was to realize at once the beauty of her figure, the +exceeding grace of her long back and waist. A keen observer would have +seen the mockery lurking in her light-brown eyes, and about the corners +of her full red lips. + +She arranged her thick dark hair to make a secret, half-revealed charm +of her fascinating pink ears and to reveal in dazzling unexpectedness +the soft, round whiteness of the nape of her neck. + +Because you are thus let into Miss Hastings' naughty secret, so well +veiled behind an air of earnest and almost cold dignity, you must not +do her the injustice of thinking her unusually artful. Such artfulness +is common enough; it secures husbands by the thousand and by the tens +of thousands. No, only in the skill of artfulness was Miss Hastings +unusual. + +As the long strides of the tall, slender man brought him rapidly +nearer, his face came into plain view. A refined, handsome face, dark +and serious. He had dark-brown eyes--and Miss Hastings did not like +brown eyes in a man. She thought that men should have gray or blue or +greenish eyes, and if they were cruel in their love of power she liked +it the better. + +"Hello, Dave," she cried in a pleasant, friendly voice. She was +posed--in the most unconscious of attitudes--upon a rustic bench so +that her extraordinary figure was revealed at its most attractive. + +The young man halted before her, his breath coming quickly--not +altogether from the exertion of his steep and rapid climb. "Jen, I'm +mad about you," he said, his brown eyes soft and luminous with passion. +"I've done nothing but think about you in the week you've been back. I +didn't sleep last night, and I've come up here as early as I dared to +tell you--to ask you to marry me." + +He did not see the triumph she felt, the joy in having subdued another +of these insolently superior males. Her eyes were discreetly veiled; +her delightful mouth was arranged to express sadness. + +"I thought I was an ambition incarnate," continued the young man, +unwittingly adding to her delight by detailing how brilliant her +conquest was. "I've never cared a rap about women--until I saw you. I +was all for politics--for trying to do something to make my fellow men +the better for my having lived. Now--it's all gone. I want you, Jen. +Nothing else matters." + +As he paused, gazing at her in speechless longing, she lifted her +eyes--simply a glance. With a stifled cry he darted forward, dropped +beside her on the bench and tried to enfold her in his arms. The veins +stood out in his forehead; the expression of his eyes was terrifying. + +She shrank, sprang up. His baffled hands had not even touched her. +"David Hull!" she cried, and the indignation and the repulsion in her +tone and in her manner were not simulated, though her artfulness +hastened to make real use of them. She loved to rouse men to frenzy. +She knew that the sight of their frenzy would chill her--would fill her +with an emotion that would enable her to remain mistress of the +situation. + +At sight of her aversion his eyes sank. "Forgive me," he muttered. +"You make me--CRAZY." + +"I!" she cried, laughing in angry derision. "What have I ever done to +encourage you to be--impertinent?" + +"Nothing," he admitted. "That is, nothing but just being yourself." + +"I can't help that, can I?" + +"No," said he, adding doggedly: "But neither can men help going crazy +about you." + +She looked at him sitting there at once penitent and impenitent; and +her mind went back to the thoughts that had engaged it before he came +into view. Marriage--to marry one of these men, with their coarse +physical ideas of women, with their pitiful weakness before an emotion +that seemed to her to have no charm whatever. And these were the +creatures who ruled the world and compelled women to be their +playthings and mere appendages! Well--no doubt it was the women's own +fault, for were they not a poor, spiritless lot, trembling with fright +lest they should not find a man to lean on and then, having found the +man, settling down into fat and stupid vacuity or playing the cat at +the silly game of social position? But not Jane Hastings! Her bosom +heaved and her eyes blazed scorn as she looked at this person who had +dared think the touch of his coarse hands would be welcome. Welcome! + +"And I have been thinking what a delightful friendship ours was," said +she, disgustedly. "And all the time, your talk about your +ambition--the speeches you were going to make--the offices you were +going to hold--the good you were going to do in purifying politics--it +was all a blind!" + +"All a blind," admitted he. "From the first night that you came to our +house to dinner--Jen, I'll never forget that dress you wore--or the way +you looked in it." + +Miss Jane had thought extremely well of that toilet herself. She had +heard how impervious this David Hull, the best catch in the town, was +to feminine charm; and she had gone prepared to give battle. But she +said dejectedly, "You don't know what a shock you've given me." + +"Yes, I do," cried he. "I'm ashamed of myself. But--I love you, Jen! +Can't you learn to love me?" + +"I hadn't even thought of you in that way," said she. "I haven't +bothered my head about marriage. Of course, most girls have to think +about it, because they must get some one to support them----" + +"I wish to God you were one of that sort," interrupted he. "Then I +could have some hope." + +"Hope of what," said she disdainfully. "You don't mean that you'd +marry a girl who was marrying you because she had to have food, +clothing and shelter?" + +"I'd marry the woman I loved. Then--I'd MAKE her love me. She simply +couldn't help it." + +Jane Hastings shuddered. "Thank heaven, I don't have to marry!" Her +eyes flashed. "But I wouldn't, even if I were poor. I'd rather go to +work. Why shouldn't a woman work, anyhow?" + +"At what?" inquired Hull. "Except the men who do manual labor, there +are precious few men who can make a living honestly and +self-respectingly. It's fortunate the women can hold aloof and remain +pure." + +Jane laughed unpleasantly. "I'm not so sure that the women who live +with men just for shelter are pure," said she. + +"Jen," the young man burst out, "you're ambitious--aren't you?" + +"Rather," replied she. + +"And you like the sort of thing I'm trying to do--like it and approve +of it?" + +"I believe a man ought to succeed--get to the top." + +"So do I--if he can do it honorably." + +Jane hesitated--dared. "To be quite frank," said she, "I worship +success and I despise failure. Success means strength. Failure means +weakness--and I abominate weakness." + +He looked quietly disapproving. "You don't mean that. You don't +understand what you're saying." + +"Perfectly," she assured him. "I'm not a bit good. Education has +taken all the namby-pamby nonsense out of me." + +But he was not really hearing; besides, what had women to do with the +realities of life? They were made to be the property of men--that was +the truth, though he would never have confessed it to any woman. They +were made to be possessed. "And I must possess this woman," he +thought, his blood running hot. He said: + +"Why not help me to make a career? I can do it, Jen, with you to help." + +She had thought of this before--of making a career for herself, of +doing the "something" her intense energy craved, through a man. The +"something" must be big if it were to satisfy her; and what that was +big could a woman do except through a man? But--this man. Her eyes +turned thoughtfully upon him--a look that encouraged him to go on: + +"Politics interest you, Jen. I've seen that in the way you listen and +in the questions you ask." + +She smiled--but not at the surface. In fact, his political talk had +bored her. She knew nothing about the subject, and, so, had been as +one listening to an unknown language. But, like all women, having only +the narrowest range of interests herself and the things that would +enable her to show off to advantage, she was used to being bored by the +conversational efforts of men and to concealing her boredom. She had +listened patiently and had led the conversation by slow, imperceptible +stages round to the interesting personal--to the struggle for dominion +over this difficult male. + +"Anyhow," he went on, "no intelligent person could fail to be +interested in politics, once he or she appreciated what it meant. And +people of our class owe it to society to take part in politics. Victor +Dorn is a crank, but he's right about some things--and he's right in +saying that we of the upper class are parasites upon the masses. They +earn all the wealth, and we take a large part of it away from them. +And it's plain stealing unless we give some service in return. For +instance, you and I--what have we done, what are we doing that entitles +us to draw so much? Somebody must earn by hard labor all that is +produced. We are not earning. So"--he was looking handsome now in his +manly earnestness--"Jen, it's up to us to do our share--to stop +stealing--isn't it?" + +She was genuinely interested. "I hadn't thought of these things," said +she. + +"Victor Dorn says we ought to go to work like laborers," pursued David. +"But that's where he's a crank. The truth is, we ought to give the +service of leadership--especially in politics. And I'm going to do it, +Jane Hastings!" + +For the first time she had an interest in him other than that of +conquest. "Just what are you going to do?" she asked. + +"Not upset everything and tear everything to pieces, as Victor Dorn +wants to do," replied he. "But reform the abuses and wrongs--make it +so that every one shall have a fair chance--make politics straight and +honest." + +This sounded hazy to her. "And what will you get out of it?" asked she. + +He colored and was a little uneasy as he thus faced a direct demand for +his innermost secret--the secret of selfishness he tried to hide even +from himself. But there was no evading; if he would interest her he +must show her the practical advantages of his proposal. "If I'm to do +any good," said he, putting the best face, and really not a bad face, +upon a difficult and delicate matter--"if I'm to do any good I must win +a commanding position--must get to be a popular leader--must hold high +offices--and--and--all that." + +"I understand," said she. "That sounds attractive. Yes, David, you +ought to make a career. If I were a man that's the career I'd choose." + +"You can choose it, though you're a woman," rejoined he. "Marry me, and +we'll go up together. You've no idea how exciting campaigns and +elections are. A little while, and you'll be crazy about it all. The +women are taking part, more and more." + +"Who's Victor Dorn?" she suddenly asked. + +"You must remember him. It was his father that was killed by the +railway the day we all went on that excursion to Indianapolis." + +"Dorn the carpenter," said Jane. "Yes--I remember." Her face grew +dreamy with the effort of memory. "I see it all again. And there was +a boy with a very white face who knelt and held his head." + +"That was Victor," said Hull. + +"Yes--I remember him. He was a bad boy--always fighting and robbing +orchards and getting kept after school." + +"And he's still a bad boy--but in a different way. He's out against +everything civilized and everybody that's got money." + +"What does he do? Keep a saloon?" + +"No, but he spends a lot of time at them. I must say for him that he +doesn't drink--and professes not to believe in drink. When I pointed +out to him what a bad example he set, loafing round saloons, he laughed +at me and said he was spending his spare time exactly as Jesus Christ +did. 'You'll find, Davy, old man,' he said, 'if you'll take the +trouble to read your Bible, that Jesus traveled with publicans and +sinners--and a publican is in plain English a saloonkeeper.'" + +"That was very original--wasn't it?" said Jane. "I'm interested in +this man. He's--different. I like people who are different." + +"I don't think you'd like him, Victor Dorn," said David. + +"Don't you?" + +"Oh, yes--in a way. I admire him," graciously. "He's really a +remarkable fellow, considering his opportunities." + +"He calls you 'Davy, old man,'" suggested Jane. + +Hull flushed. "That's his way. He's free and easy with every one. He +thinks conventionality is a joke." + +"And it is," cried Miss Hastings. + +"You'd not think so," laughed Hull, "if he called you Jane or Jenny or +my dear Jenny half an hour after he met you." + +"He wouldn't," said Miss Hastings in a peculiar tone. + +"He would if he felt like it," replied Hull. "And if you resented it, +he'd laugh at you and walk away. I suspect him of being a good deal of +a poseur and a fakir. All those revolutionary chaps are. But I +honestly think that he really doesn't care a rap for classes--or for +money--or for any of the substantial things." + +"He sounds common," said Miss Hastings. "I've lost interest in him." +Then in the same breath: "How does he live? Is he a carpenter?" + +"He was--for several years. You see, he and his mother together +brought up the Dorn family after the father was killed. They didn't +get a cent of damages from the railroad. It was an outrage----" + +"But my father was the largest owner of the railroad." + +Hull colored violently. "You don't understand about business, Jen. +The railroad is a corporation. It fought the case--and the Dorns had +no money--and the railway owned the judge and bribed several jurors at +each trial. Dorn says that was what started him to thinking--to being +a revolutionist--though he doesn't call himself that." + +"I should think it would!" cried Miss Hastings. "If my father had +known----" She caught her breath. "But he MUST have known! He was on +the train that day." + +"You don't understand business, Jen. Your father wouldn't interfere +with the management of the corporation ." + +"He makes money out of it--doesn't he?" + +"So do we all get money out of corporations that are compelled to do +all sorts of queer things. But we can't abolish the system--we've got +to reform it. That's why I'm in politics--and want you----" + +"Something must be done about that," interrupted Jane. "I shall talk +to father----" + +"For heaven's sake, Jen," cried David in alarm, "don't tell your father +I'VE been stirring you up. He's one of the powers in politics in this +State, and----" + +"I'll not give you away, Davy," said Miss Hastings a little +contemptuously. "I want to hear more about this Victor Dorn. I'll get +that money for him and his mother. Is he very poor?" + +"Well--you'd call him poor. But he says he has plenty. He runs a +small paper. I think he makes about twenty-five dollars a week out of +it--and a little more out of lecturing. Then--every once in a while he +goes back to his trade--to keep his hand in and enjoy the luxury of +earning honest money, as he puts it." + +"How queer!" exclaimed Miss Hastings. "I would like to meet him. Is +he--very ignorant?" + +"Oh, no--no, indeed. He's worked his way through college--and law +school afterward. Supported the family all the time." + +"He must be tremendously clever." + +"I've given you an exaggerated idea of him," Davy hastened to say. +"He's really an ordinary sort of chap." + +"I should think he'd get rich," said Miss Hastings. "Most of the men +that do--so far as I've met them--seem ordinary enough." + +"He says he could get rich, but that he wouldn't waste time that way. +But he's fond of boasting." + +"You don't think he could make money--after all he did--going to +college and everything?" + +"Yes--I guess he could," reluctantly admitted Davy. Then in a burst of +candor: "Perhaps I'm a little jealous of him. If _I_ were thrown on +my own resources, I'm afraid I'd make a pretty wretched showing. +But--don't get an exaggerated idea of him. The things I've told you +sound romantic and unusual. If you met him--saw him every day--you'd +realize he's not at all--at least, not much--out of the ordinary." + +"Perhaps," said Miss Hastings shrewdly, "perhaps I'm getting a better +idea of him than you who see him so often." + +"Oh, you'll run across him sometime," said Davy, who was bearing up no +better than would the next man under the strain of a woman's interest +in and excitement about another man. "When you do, you'll get enough +in about five minutes. You see, he's not a gentleman ." + +"I'm not sure that I'm wildly crazy about gentlemen--AS gentlemen," +replied the girl. "Very few of the interesting people I've read about +in history and biography have been gentlemen." + +"And very few of them would have been pleasant to associate with," +rejoined Hull. "You'll admire Victor as I do. But you'll feel--as I +do--that there's small excuse for a man who has been educated, who has +associated with upper class people, turning round and inciting the +lower classes against everything that's fine and improving." + +It was now apparent to the girl that David Hull was irritatedly jealous +of this queer Victor Dorn--was jealous of her interest in him. Her +obvious cue was to fan this flame. In no other way could she get any +amusement out of Davy's society; for his tendency was to be heavily +serious--and she wanted no more of the too strenuous love making, yet +wanted to keep him "on the string." This jealousy was just the means +for her end. Said she innocently: "If it irritates you, Davy, we +won't talk about him." + +"Not at all--not at all," cried Hull. "I simply thought you'd be +getting tired of hearing so much about a man you'd never known." + +"But I feel as if I did know him," replied she. "Your account of him +was so vivid. I thought of asking you to bring him to call." + +Hull laughed heartily. "Victor Dorn--calling!" + +"Why not?" + +"He doesn't do that sort of thing. And if he did, how could I bring +him here?" + +"Why not?" + +"Well--in the first place, you are a lady--and he is not in your class. +Of course, men can associate with each other in politics and business. +But the social side of life--that's different." + +"But a while ago you were talking about my going in for politics," said +Miss Hastings demurely. + +"Still, you'd not have to meet SOCIALLY queer and rough characters----" + +"Is Victor Dorn very rough?" + +The interrupting question was like the bite of a big fly to a sweating +horse. "I'm getting sick of hearing about him from you," cried Hull +with the pettishness of the spoiled children of the upper class. + +"In what way is he rough?" persisted Miss Hastings. "If you didn't +wish to talk about Victor Dorn, why did you bring the subject up?" + +"Oh--all right," cried Hull, restraining himself. "Victor isn't +exactly rough. He can act like a gentleman--when he happens to want +to. But you never can tell what he'll do next." + +"You MUST bring him to call!" exclaimed Miss Hastings. + +"Impossible," said Hull angrily. + +"But he's the only man I've heard about since I've been home that I've +taken the least interest in." + +"If he did come, your father would have the servants throw him off the +place." + +"Oh, no," said Hiss Hastings haughtily. "My father wouldn't insult a +guest of mine." + +"But you don't know, Jen," cried David. "Why, Victor Dorn attacks your +father in the most outrageous way in his miserable little anarchist +paper--calls him a thief, a briber, a blood-sucker--a--I'd not venture +to repeat to you the things he says." + +"No doubt he got a false impression of father because of that damage +suit," said Miss Hastings mildly. "That was a frightful thing. I +can't be so unjust as to blame him, Davy--can you?" + +Hull was silent. + +"And I guess father does have to do a lot of things in the course of +business---- Don't all the big men--the leaders?" + +"Yes--unfortunately they do," said Hull. "That's what gives +plausibility to the shrieks of demagogues like Victor Dorn--though +Victor is too well educated not to know better than to stir up the +ignorant classes." + +"I wonder why he does it," said Miss Hastings, reflectively. "I must +ask him. I want to hear what he says to excuse himself." In fact, she +had not the faintest interest in the views of this queer unknown; her +chief reason for saying she had was to enjoy David Hull's jealousy. + +"Before you try to meet Victor," said Hull, in a constrained, desperate +way, "please speak to your father about it." + +"I certainly shall," replied the girl. "As soon as he comes home this +afternoon, I'm going to talk to him about that damage suit. That has +got to be straightened out." An expression of resolution, of +gentleness and justice abruptly transformed her face. "You may not +believe it, but I have a conscience." Absently, "A curious sort of a +conscience--one that might become very troublesome, I'm afraid--in some +circumstances." + +Instantly the fine side of David Hull's nature was to the fore--the +dominant side, for at the first appeal it always responded. "So have +I, Jen," said he. "I think our similarity in that respect is what +draws me so strongly to you. And it's that that makes me hope I can win +you. Oh, Jen--there's so much to be done in the world--and you and I +could have such a splendid happy life doing our share of it." + +She was once more looking at him with an encouraging interest. But she +said, gently: "Let's not talk about that any more to-day, Davy." + +"But you'll think about it?" urged he. + +"Yes," said she. "Let's be friends--and--and see what happens." + +Hull strolled up to the house with her, but refused to stop for lunch. +He pleaded an engagement; but it was one that could--and in other +circumstances would--have been broken by telephone. His real reason for +hurrying away was fear lest Jane should open out on the subject of +Victor Dorn with her father, and, in her ignorance of the truth as to +the situation, should implicate him. + +She found her father already at home and having a bowl of crackers and +milk in a shady corner of the west veranda. He was chewing in the +manner of those whose teeth are few and not too secure. His brows were +knitted and he looked as if not merely joy but everything except +disagreeable sensation had long since fled his life beyond hope of +return--an air not uncommon among the world's successful men. However, +at sight of his lovely young daughter his face cleared somewhat and he +shot at her from under his wildly and savagely narrowed eyebrows a +glance of admiration and tenderness--a quaint expression for those +cold, hard features. + +Everyone spoke of him behind his back as "Old Morton Hastings." + +In fact, he was barely past sixty, was at an age at which city men of +the modern style count themselves young and even entertain--not without +reason--hope of being desired of women for other than purely practical +reasons. He was born on a farm--was born with an aversion to physical +exertion as profound as was his passion for mental exertion. We never +shall know how much of its progress the world owes to the physically +lazy, mentally tireless men. Those are they who, to save themselves +physical exertion, have devised all manner of schemes and machines to +save labor. And, at bottom, what is progress but man's success in his +effort to free himself from manual labor--to get everything for himself +by the labor of other men and animals and of machines? Naturally his +boyhood of toil on the farm did not lessen Martin Hastings' innate +horror of "real work." He was not twenty when he dropped tools never +to take them up again. He was shoeing a horse in the heat of the cool +side of the barn on a frightful August day. Suddenly he threw down the +hammer and said loudly: "A man that works is a damn fool. I'll never +work again." And he never did. + +As soon as he could get together the money--and it was not long after +he set about making others work for him--he bought a buggy, a kind of +phaeton, and a safe horse. Thenceforth he never walked a step that +could be driven. The result of thirty-five years of this life, so +unnatural to an animal that is designed by Nature for walking and is +punished for not doing so--the result of a lifetime of this folly was a +body shrivelled to a lean brown husk, legs incredibly meagre and so +tottery that they scarcely could bear him about. His head--large and +finely shaped--seemed so out of proportion that he looked at a glance +senile. But no one who had business dealings with him suspected him of +senility or any degree of weakness. He spoke in a thin dry voice, +shrouded in sardonic humor. + +"I don't care for lunch," said Jane, dropping to a chair near the side +of the table opposite her father. "I had breakfast too late. Besides, +I've got to look out for my figure. There's a tendency to fat in our +family." + +The old man chuckled. "Me, for instance," said he. + +"Martha, for instance," replied Jane. Martha was her one +sister--married and ten years older than she and spaciously matronly. + +"Wasn't that Davy Hull you were talking to, down in the woods?" +inquired her father. + +Jane laughed. "You see everything," said she. + +"I didn't see much when I saw him," said her father. + +Jane was hugely amused. Her father watched her laughter--the dazzling +display of fine teeth--with delighted eyes. "You've got mighty good +teeth, Jenny," observed he. "Take care of 'em. You'll never know what +misery is till you've got no teeth--or next to none." He looked +disgustedly into his bowl. "Crackers and milk!" grunted he. "No teeth +and no digestion. The only pleasure a man of my age can have left is +eating, and I'm cheated out of that." + +"So, you wouldn't approve of my marrying Davy?" said the girl. + +Her father grunted--chuckled. "I didn't say that. Does he want to +marry you?" + +"I didn't say that," retorted Jane. "He's an unattached young man--and +I, being merely a woman, have got to look out for a husband." + +Martin looked gloomy. "There's no hurry," said he. "You've been away +six years. Seems to me you might stay at home a while." + +"Oh, I'd bring him here, popsy I've no intention of leaving you. You +were in an awful state, when I came home. That mustn't ever happen +again. And as you won't live with Martha and Hugo--why, I've got to be +the victim." + +"Yes--it's up to you, Miss, to take care of me in my declining +years.... You can marry Davy--if you want to. Davy--or anybody. I +trust to your good sense." + +"If I don't like him, I can get rid of him," said the girl. + +Her father smiled indulgently. "That's A LEETLE too up-to-date for an +old man like me," observed he. "The world's moving fast nowadays. +It's got a long ways from where it was when your ma and I were young." + +"Do you think Davy Hull will make a career?" asked Jane. She had heard +from time to time as much as she cared to hear about the world of a +generation before--of its bareness and discomfort, its primness, its +repulsive piety, its ignorance of all that made life bright and +attractive--how it quite overlooked this life in its agitation about +the extremely problematic life to come. "I mean a career in politics," +she explained. + +The old man munched and smacked for full a minute before he said, +"Well, he can make a pretty good speech. Yes--I reckon he could be +taken in hand and pushed. He's got a lot of fool college-bred ideas +about reforming things. But he'd soon drop them, if he got into the +practical swing. As soon as he had a taste of success, he'd stop being +finicky. Just now, he's one of those nice, pure chaps who stand off +and tell how things ought to be done. But he'd get over that." + +Jane smiled peculiarly--half to herself. "Yes--I think he would. In +fact, I'm sure he would." She looked at her father. "Do you think he +amounts to as much as Victor Dorn?" she asked, innocently. + +The old man dropped a half raised spoonful of milk and crackers into +the bowl with a splash. "Dorn--he's a scoundrel!" he exclaimed, +shaking with passion. "I'm going to have that dirty little paper of +his stopped and him put out of town. Impudent puppy!--foul-mouthed +demagogue! I'll SHOW him!" + +"Why, he doesn't amount to anything, father," remonstrated the girl. +"He's nothing but a common working man--isn't he?" + +"That's all he is--the hound!" replied Martin Hastings. A look of +cruelty, of tenacious cruelty, had come into his face. It would have +startled a stranger. But his daughter had often seen it; and it did +not disturb her, as it had never appeared for anything that in any way +touched her life. "I've let him hang on here too long," went on the +old man, to himself rather than to her. "First thing I know he'll be +dangerous." + +"If he's worth while I should think you'd hire him," remarked Jane +shrewdly. + +"I wouldn't have such a scoundrel in my employ," cried her father. + +"Oh, maybe," pursued the daughter, "maybe you couldn't hire him." + +"Of course I could," scoffed Hastings. "Anybody can be hired." + +"I don't believe it," said the girl bluntly. + +"One way or another," declared the old man. "That Dorn boy isn't worth +the price he'd want." + +"What price would he want?" asked Jane. + +"How should I know?" retorted her father angrily. + +"You've tried to hire him--haven't you?" persisted she. + +The father concentrated on his crackers and milk. Presently he said: +"What did that fool Hull boy say about Dorn to you?" + +"He doesn't like him," replied Jane. "He seems to be jealous of +him--and opposed to his political views." + +"Dorn's views ain't politics. They're--theft and murder and +highfalutin nonsense," said Hastings, not unconscious of his feeble +anti-climax. + +"All the same, he--or rather, his mother--ought to have got damages +from the railway," said the girl. And there was a sudden and startling +shift in her expression--to a tenacity as formidable as her father's +own, but a quiet and secret tenacity. + +Old Hastings wiped his mouth and began fussing uncomfortably with a +cigar. + +"I don't blame him for getting bitter and turning against society," +continued she. "I'd have done the same thing--and so would you." + +Hastings lit the cigar. "They wanted ten thousand dollars," he said, +almost apologetically. "Why, they never saw ten thousand cents they +could call their own." + +"But they lost their bread-winner, father," pleaded the girl. "And +there were young children to bring up and educate. Oh, I hate to think +that--that we had anything to do with such a wrong." + +"It wasn't a wrong, Jen--as I used to tell your ma," said the old man, +much agitated and shrill of voice. "It was just the course of +business. The law was with our company." + +Jane said nothing. She simply gazed steadily at her father. He +avoided her glance. + +"I don't want to hear no more about it," he burst out with abrupt +violence. "Not another word!" + +"Father, I want it settled--and settled right," said the girl. "I ask +it as a favor. Don't do it as a matter of business, but as a matter of +sentiment." + +He shifted uneasily, debating. When he spoke he was even more +explosive than before. "Not a cent! Not a red! Give that whelp money +to run his crazy paper on? Not your father, while he keeps his mind." + +"But--mightn't that quiet him?" pleaded she. "What's the use of having +war when you can have peace? You've always laughed at people who let +their prejudices stand in the way of their interests. You've always +laughed at how silly and stupid and costly enmities and revenges are. +Now's your chance to illustrate, popsy." And she smiled charmingly at +him. + +He was greatly softened by her manner--and by the wisdom of what she +said--a wisdom in which, as in a mirror, he recognized with pleasure +her strong resemblance to himself. "That wouldn't be a bad idea, Jen," +said he after reflection, "IF I could get a guarantee." + +"But why not do it generously?" urged the girl. "Generosity inspires +generosity. You'll make him ashamed of himself." + +With a cynical smile on his shrivelled face the old man slowly shook +his big head that made him look as top-heavy as a newborn baby. "That +isn't as smart, child, as what you said before. It's in them things +that the difference between theory and practice shows. He'd take the +money and laugh at me. No, I'll try to get a guarantee." He nodded +and chuckled. "Yes, that was a good idea of yours, Jen." + +"But--isn't it just possible that he is a man with--with principles of +a certain kind?" suggested she. + +"Of course, he THINKS so," said Hastings. "They all do. But you don't +suppose a man of any sense at all could really care about and respect +working class people?--ignorant, ungrateful fools. _I_ know 'em. +Didn't I come from among 'em? Ain't I dealt with 'em all my life? No, +that there guy Dorn's simply trying to get up, and is using them to +step up on. I did the same thing, only I did it in a decent, +law-abiding way. I didn't want to tear down those that was up. I +wanted to go up and join 'em. And I did." + +And his eyes glistened fondly and proudly as he gazed at his daughter. +She represented the climax of his rising--she, the lady born and bred, +in her beautiful clothes, with her lovely, delicate charms. Yes, he +had indeed "come up," and there before him was the superb tangible +evidence of it. + +Jane had the strongest belief in her father's worldly wisdom. At the +same time, from what David Hull said she had got an impression of a +something different from the ordinary human being in this queer Victor +Dorn. "You'd better move slowly," she said to her father. "There's no +hurry, and you might be mistaken in him." + +"Plenty of time," asserted her father. "There's never any need to +hurry about giving up money." Then, with one of those uncanny flashes +of intuition for which he, who was never caught napping, was famous, he +said to her sharply: "You keep your hands off, miss." + +She was thrown into confusion--and her embarrassment enraged her +against herself. "What could _I_ do?" she retorted with a brave +attempt at indifference. + +"Well--keep your hands off, miss," said the old man. "No female +meddling in business. I'll stand for most anything, but not for that." + +Jane was now all eagerness for dropping the subject. She wished no +further prying of that shrewd mind into her secret thoughts. "It's +hardly likely I'd meddle where I know nothing about the circumstances," +said she. "Will you drive me down to Martha's?" + +This request was made solely to change the subject, to shift her father +to his favorite topic for family conversation--his daughter Martha, +Mrs. Hugo Galland, her weakness for fashionable pastimes, her incessant +hints and naggings at her father about his dowdy dress, his vulgar +mannerisms of speech and of conduct, especially at table. Jane had not +the remotest intention of letting her father drive her to Mrs. +Galland's, or anywhere, in the melancholy old phaeton-buggy, behind the +fat old nag whose coat was as shabby as the coat of the master or as +the top and the side curtains of the sorrowful vehicle it drew along at +caterpillar pace. + +When her father was ready to depart for his office in the Hastings +Block--the most imposing office building in Remsen City, Jane announced +a change of mind. + +"I'll ride, instead," said she. "I need the exercise, and the day +isn't too warm." + +"All right," said Martin Hastings grumpily. He soon got enough of +anyone's company, even of his favorite daughter's. Through years of +habit he liked to jog about alone, revolving in his mind his business +affairs--counting in fancy his big bundles of securities, one by one, +calculating their returns past, present and prospective--reviewing the +various enterprises in which he was dominant factor, working out +schemes for getting more profit here, for paying less wages there, for +tightening his grip upon this enterprise, for dumping his associates in +that, for escaping with all the valuable assets from another. His +appearance, as he and his nag dozed along the highroad, was as +deceptive as that of a hive of bees on a hot day--no signs of life +except a few sleepy workers crawling languidly in and out at the low, +broad crack-door, yet within myriads toiling like mad. + +Jane went up to dress. She had brought an Italian maid with her from +Florence, and a mass of baggage that had given the station loungers at +Remsen City something to talk about, when there was a dearth of new +subjects, for the rest of their lives. She had transformed her own +suite in the second story of the big old house into an appearance of +the quarters of a twentieth century woman of wealth and leisure. In +the sitting room were books in four languages; on the walls were +tasteful reproductions of her favorite old masters. The excellence of +her education was attested not by the books and pictures but by the +absence of those fussy, commonplace draperies and bits of bric-a-brac +where--with people of no taste and no imagination furnish their houses +because they can think of nothing else to fill in the gaps. + +Many of Jane's ways made Sister Martha uneasy. For Martha, while +admitting that Jane through superior opportunity ought to know, could +not believe that the "right sort" of people on the other side had +thrown over all her beloved formalities and were conducting themselves +distressingly like tenement-house people. For instance, Martha could +not approve Jane's habit of smoking cigarettes--a habit which, by one +of those curious freaks of character, enormously pleased her father. +But--except in one matter--Martha entirely approved Jane's style of +dress. She hastened to pronounce it "just too elegant" and repeated +that phrase until Jane, tried beyond endurance, warned her that the +word elegant was not used seriously by people of the "right sort" and +that its use was regarded as one of those small but subtle signs of the +loathsome "middle class." + +The one thing in Jane's dress that Martha disapproved--or, rather, +shied at--was her riding suit. This was an extremely noisy plaid man's +suit--for Jane rode astride. Martha could not deny that Jane looked +"simply stunning" when seated on her horse and dressed in that garb +with her long slim feet and graceful calves encased in a pair of riding +boots that looked as if they must have cost "something fierce." But +was it really "ladylike"? Hadn't Jane made a mistake and adopted a +costume worn only by the fashionables among the demi-mondaines of whom +Martha had read and had heard such dreadful, delightful stories? + +It was the lively plaid that Miss Hastings now clad herself in. She +loved that suit. Not only did it give her figure a superb opportunity +but also it brought out new beauties in her contour and coloring. And +her head was so well shaped and her hair grew so thickly about brow and +ears and nape of neck that it looked full as well plaited and done +close as when it was framing her face and half concealing, half +revealing her charming ears in waves of changeable auburn. After a +lingering--and pardonably pleased--look at herself in a long mirror, +she descended, mounted and rode slowly down toward town. + +The old Galland homestead was at the western end of town--in a quarter +that had become almost poor. But it was so dignified and its grounds +were so extensive that it suggested a manor house with the humble homes +of the lord's dependents clustering about it for shelter. To reach it +Jane had to ride through two filthy streets lined with factories. As +she rode she glanced at the windows, where could be seen in dusty air +girls and boys busy at furiously driven machines--machines that +compelled their human slaves to strain every nerve in the monotonous +task of keeping them occupied. Many of the girls and boys paused long +enough for a glance at the figure of the man-clad girl on the big horse. + +Jane, happy in the pleasant sunshine, in her beauty and health and fine +raiment and secure and luxurious position in the world, gave a thought +of pity to these imprisoned young people. "How lucky I am," she +thought, "not to have been born like that. Of course, we all have our +falls now and then. But while they always strike on the hard ground, +I've got a feather bed to fall on." + +When she reached Martha's and was ushered into the cool upstairs +sitting room, in somehow ghastly contrast to the hot rooms where the +young working people sweated and strained, the subject persisted in its +hold on her thoughts. There was Martha, in comfortable, corsetless +expansiveness--an ideal illustration of the worthless idler fattening +in purposelessness. She was engaged with all her energies in preparing +for the ball Hugo Galland's sister, Mrs. Bertrand, was giving at the +assembly rooms that night. + +"I've been hard at it for several days now," said she. "I think at +last I see daylight. But I want your opinion." + +Jane gazed absently at the dress and accompanying articles that had +been assembled with so much labor. "All right," said she. "You'll look +fine and dandy." + +Martha twitched. "Jane, dear--don't say that--don't use such an +expression. I know it's your way of joking. But lots of people would +think you didn't know any better." + +"Let 'em think," said Jane. "I say and do as I please." + +Martha sighed. Here was one member of her family who could be a +credit, who could make people forget the unquestionably common origin +of the Hastingses and of the Morleys. Yet this member was always +breaking out into something mortifying, something reminiscent of the +farm and of the livery stable--for the deceased Mrs. Hastings had been +daughter of a livery stable keeper--in fact, had caught Martin Hastings +by the way she rode her father's horses at a sale at a county fair. +Said Martha: + +"You haven't really looked at my clothes, Jane. Why DID you go back to +calling yourself Jane?" + +"Because it's my name," replied her sister. + +"I know that. But you hated it and changed it to Jeanne, which is so +much prettier." + +"I don't think so any more," replied Miss Hastings. "My taste has +improved. Don't be so horribly middle class, Martha--ashamed of +everything simple and natural." + +"You think you know it all--don't you?--just because you've lived +abroad," said Martha peevishly. + +"On the contrary, I don't know one-tenth as much as I thought I did, +when I came back from Wellesley with a diploma." + +"Do you like my costume?" inquired Martha, eying her finery with the +fond yet dubious expression of the woman who likes her own taste but is +not sure about its being good taste. + +"What a lazy, worthless pair we are!" exclaimed Jane, hitting her boot +leg a tremendous rap with her little cane. + +Martha startled. "Good God--Jane--what is it?" she cried. + +"On the way here I passed a lot of factories," pursued Jane. "Why +should those people have to work like--like the devil, while we sit +about planning ball dresses?" + +Martha settled back comfortably. "I feel so sorry for those poor +people," said she, absently sympathetic. + +"But why?" demanded Jane. "WHY? Why should we be allowed to idle +while they have to slave? What have we done--what are we doing--to +entitle us to ease? What have they done to condemn them to pain and +toil?" + +"You know very well, Jane, that we represent the finer side of life." + +"Slop!" ejaculated Jane. + +"For pity's sake, don't let's talk politics," wailed Martha. "I know +nothing about politics. I haven't any brains for that sort of thing." + +"Is that politics?" inquired Jane. "I thought politics meant whether +the Democrats or the Republicans or the reformers were to get the +offices and the chance to steal." + +"Everything's politics, nowadays," said Martha, comparing the color of +the material of her dress with the color of her fat white arm. "As +Hugo says, that Victor Dorn is dragging everything into politics--even +our private business of how we make and spend our own money." + +Jane sat down abruptly. "Victor Dorn," she said in a strange voice. +"WHO is Victor Dorn? WHAT is Victor Dorn? It seems that I can hear of +nothing but Victor Dorn to-day." + +"He's too low to talk about," said Martha, amiable and absent. + +"Why?" + +"Politics," replied Martha. "Really, he is horrid, Jane." + +"To look at?" + +"No--not to look at. He's handsome in a way. Not at all common +looking. You might take him for a gentleman, if you didn't know. +Still--he always dresses peculiarly--always wears soft hats. I think +soft hats are SO vulgar--don't you?" + +"How hopelessly middle-class you are, Martha," mocked Jane. + +"Hugo would as soon think of going in the street in a--in a--I don't +know what." + +"Hugo is the finest flower of American gentleman. That is, he's the +quintessence of everything that's nice--and 'nasty.' I wish I were +married to him for a week. I love Hugo, but he gives me the creeps." +She rose and tramped restlessly about the room. "You both give me the +creeps. Everything conventional gives me the creeps. If I'm not +careful I'll dress myself in a long shirt, let down my hair and run +wild." + +"What nonsense you do talk," said Martha composedly. + +Jane sat down abruptly. "So I do!" she said. "I'm as poor a creature +as you at bottom. I simply like to beat against the bars of my cage to +make myself think I'm a wild, free bird by nature. If you opened the +door, I'd not fly out, but would hop meekly back to my perch and fall +to smoothing my feathers.... Tell me some more about Victor Dorn." + +"I told you he isn't fit to talk about," said Martha. "Do you know, +they say now that he is carrying on with that shameless, brazen thing +who writes for his paper, that Selma Gordon?" + +"Selma Gordon," echoed Jane. Her brows came down in a gesture +reminiscent of her father, and there was a disagreeable expression +about her mouth and in her light brown eyes. "Who's Selma Gordon?" + +"She makes speeches--and writes articles against rich people--and--oh, +she's horrid." + +"Pretty?" + +"No--a scrawny, black thing. The men--some of them--say she's got a +kind of uncanny fascination. Some even insist that she's beautiful." +Martha laughed. "Beautiful! How could a woman with black hair and a +dark skin and no flesh on her bones be beautiful?" + +"It has been known to happen," said Jane curtly. "Is she one of THE +Gordons?" + +"Mercy, no!" cried Martha Galland. "She simply took the name of +Gordon--that is, her father did. He was a Russian peasant--a Jew. And +he fell in love with a girl who was of noble family--a princess, I +think." + +"Princess doesn't mean much in Russia," said Jane sourly. + +"Anyhow, they ran away to this country. And he worked in the rolling +mill here--and they both died--and Selma became a factory girl--and +then took to writing for the New Day--that's Victor Dorn's paper, you +know." + +"How romantic," said Jane sarcastically. "And now Victor Dorn's in +love with her?" + +"I didn't say that," replied Martha, with a scandal-smile. + +Jane Hastings went to the window and gazed out into the garden. Martha +resumed her habitual warm day existence--sat rocking gently and fanning +herself and looking leisurely about the room. Presently she said: + +"Jane, why don't you marry Davy Hull?" + +No answer. + +"He's got an independent income--so there's no question of his marrying +for money. And there isn't any family anywhere that's better than +his--mighty few as good. And he's DEAD in love with you, Jen." + +With her back still turned Jane snapped, "I'd rather marry Victor Dorn." + +"What OUTRAGEOUS things you do say!" cried Martha. + +"I envy that black Jewess--that--what's her name?--that Selma Gordon." + +"You don't even know them," said Martha. + +Jane wheeled round with a strange laugh. "Don't I?" cried she. + +"I don't know anyone else." + +She strode to her sister and tapped her lightly on the shoulder with +the riding stick. + +"Be careful," cautioned Martha. "You know how easily my flesh +mars--and I'm going to wear my low neck to-night." + +Jane did not heed. "David Hull is a bore--and a fraud," she said. "I +tell you I'd rather marry Victor Dorn." + +"Do be careful about my skin, dear," pleaded Martha. "Hugo'll be SO +put out if there's a mark on it. He's very proud of my skin." + +Jane looked at her quizzically. "What a dear, fat old rotter of a +respectability it is, to be sure," said she--and strode from the room, +and from the house. + +Her mood of perversity and defiance did not yield to a ten mile gallop +over the gentle hills of that lovely part of Indiana, but held on +through the afternoon and controlled her toilet for the ball. She knew +that every girl in town would appear at that most fashionable party of +the summer season in the best clothing she could get together. As she +had several dresses from Paris which she not without reason regarded as +notable works of art, the opportunity to outshine was hers--the sort of +opportunity she took pleasure in using to the uttermost, as a rule. +But to be the best dressed woman at Mrs. Bertram's party was too easy +and too commonplace. To be the worst dressed would call for +courage--of just the sort she prided herself on having. Also, it would +look original, would cause talk--would give her the coveted sense of +achievement. + +When she descended to show herself to her father and say good night to +him, she was certainly dressed by the same pattern that caused him to +be talked about throughout that region. Her gown was mussed, had been +mended obviously in several places, had not been in its best day +becoming. But this was not all. Her hair looked stringy and +dishevelled. She was delighted with herself. Except during an illness +two years before never had she come so near to being downright homely. +"Martha will die of shame," said she to herself. "And Mrs. Bertram +will spend the evening explaining me to everybody." She did not +definitely formulate the thought, "And I shall be the most talked about +person of the evening"; but it was in her mind none the less. + +Her father always smoked his after-dinner cigar in a little room just +off the library. It was filled up with the plain cheap furniture and +the chromos and mottoes which he and his wife had bought when they +first went to housekeeping--in their early days of poverty and +struggle. On the south wall was a crude and cheap, but startlingly +large enlargement of an old daguerreotype of Letitia Hastings at +twenty-four--the year after her marriage and the year before the birth +of the oldest child, Robert, called Dock, now piling up a fortune as an +insider in the Chicago "brave" game of wheat and pork, which it is +absurd to call gambling because gambling involves chance. To smoke the +one cigar the doctor allowed him, old Martin Hastings always seated +himself before this picture. He found it and his thoughts the best +company in the world, just as he had found her silent self and her +thoughts the best company in their twenty-one years of married life. +As he sat there, sometimes he thought of her--of what they had been +through together, of the various advances in his fortune--how this one +had been made near such and such anniversary, and that one between two +other anniversaries--and what he had said to her and what she had said +to him. Again--perhaps oftener--he did not think of her directly, any +more than he had thought of her when they sat together evening after +evening, year in and year out, through those twenty-one years of +contented and prosperous life. + +As Jane entered he, seated back to the door, said: + +"About that there Dorn damage suit----" + +Jane started, caught her breath. Really, it was uncanny, this +continual thrusting of Victor Dorn at her. + +"It wasn't so bad as it looked," continued her father. He was speaking +in the quiet voice--quiet and old and sad--he always used when seated +before the picture. + +"You see, Jenny, in them days"--also, in presence of the picture he +lapsed completely into the dialect of his youth--"in them days the +railroad was teetering and I couldn't tell which way things'd jump. +Every cent counted." + +"I understand perfectly, father," said Jane, her hands on his shoulders +from behind. She felt immensely relieved. She did not realize that +every doer of a mean act always has an excellent excuse for it. + +"Then afterwards," the old man went on, "the family was getting along +so well--the boy was working steady and making good money and pushing +ahead--and I was afeared I'd do harm instead of good. It's mighty +dangerous, Jen, to give money sudden to folks that ain't used to it. +I've seen many a smash-up come that way. And your ma--she thought so, +too--kind of." + +The "kind of" was advanced hesitatingly, with an apologetic side glance +at the big crayon portrait. But Jane was entirely convinced. She was +average human; therefore, she believed what she wished to believe. + +"You were quite right, father," said she. "I knew you couldn't do a +bad thing--wouldn't deliberately strike at weak, helpless people. And +now, it can be straightened out and the Dorns will be all the better +for not having been tempted in the days when it might have ruined them." + +She had walked round where her father could see her, as she delivered +herself of this speech so redolent of the fumes of collegiate smugness. +He proceeded to examine her--with an expression of growing +dissatisfaction. Said he fretfully: + +"You don't calculate to go out, looking like that?" + +"Out to the swellest blow-out of the year, popsy," said she. + +The big heavy looking head wobbled about uneasily. "You look too much +like your old pappy's daughter," said he. + +"I can afford to," replied she. + +The head shook positively. "You ma wouldn't 'a liked it. She was +mighty partic'lar how she dressed." + +Jane laughed gayly. "Why, when did you become a critic of women's +dress?" cried she. + +"I always used to buy yer ma dresses and hats when I went to the city," +said he. "And she looked as good as the best--not for these days, but +for them times." He looked critically at the portrait. "I bought them +clothes and awful dear they seemed to me." His glance returned to his +daughter. "Go get yourself up proper," said he, between request and +command. "SHE wouldn't 'a liked it." + +Jane gazed at the common old crayon, suddenly flung her arms round the +old man's neck. "Yes--father," she murmured. "To please HER." + +She fled; the old man wiped his eyes, blew his nose and resumed the +careful smoking of the cheap, smelly cigar. He said he preferred that +brand of his days of poverty; and it was probably true, as he would +refuse better cigars offered him by fastidious men who hoped to save +themselves from the horrors of his. He waited restlessly, though it +was long past his bedtime; he yawned and pretended to listen while Davy +Hull, who had called for Jane in the Hull brougham, tried to make a +favorable impression upon him. At last Jane reappeared--and certainly +Letitia Hastings would have been more than satisfied. + +"Sorry to keep you waiting," said she to Hull, who was speechless and +tremulous before her voluptuous radiance. "But father didn't like the +way I was rigged out. Maybe I'll have to change again." + +"Take her along, Davy," said Hastings, his big head wagging with +delight. "She's a caution--SHE is!" + +Hull could not control himself to speak. As they sat in the carriage, +she finishing the pulling on of her gloves, he stared out into the +heavy rain that was deluging the earth and bending low the boughs. +Said she, half way down the hill: + +"Well--can't you talk about anything but Victor Dorn?" + +"I saw him this afternoon," said Hull, glad that the tension of the +silence was broken. + +"Then you've got something to talk about." + +"The big street car strike is on." + +"So father said at dinner. I suppose Victor Dorn caused it." + +"No--he's opposed to it. He's queer. I don't exactly understand his +ideas. He says strikes are ridiculous--that it's like trying to cure +smallpox by healing up one single sore." + +Jane gave a shiver of lady-like disgust. "How--nasty," said she. + +"I'm telling you what he said. But he says that the only way human +beings learn how to do things right is by doing them wrong--so while +he's opposed to strikes he's also in favor of them." + +"Even _I_ understand that," said Jane. "I don't think it's difficult." + +"Doesn't it strike you as--as inconsistent?" + +"Oh--bother consistency!" scoffed the girl. "That's another middle +class virtue that sensible people loathe as a vice. Anyhow, he's +helping the strikers all he can--and fighting US. You know, your father +and my father's estate are the two biggest owners of the street +railways." + +"I must get his paper," said Jane. "I'll have a lot of fun reading the +truth about us." + +But David wasn't listening. He was deep in thought. After a while he +said: "It's amazing--and splendid--and terrible, what power he's +getting in our town. Victor Dorn, I mean." + +"Always Victor Dorn," mocked Jane. + +"When he started--twelve years ago as a boy of twenty, just out of +college and working as a carpenter--when he started, he was alone and +poor, and without friends or anything. He built up little by little, +winning one man at a time--the fellow working next him on his right, +then the chap working on his left--in the shop--and so on, one man +after another. And whenever he got a man he held him--made him as +devoted--as--as fanatical as he is himself. Now he's got a band of +nearly a thousand. There are ten thousand voters in this town. So, +he's got only one in ten. But what a thousand!" + +Jane was gazing out into the rain, her eyes bright, her lips parted. + +"Are you listening?" asked Hull. "Or, am I boring you?" + +"Go on," said she. + +"They're a thousand missionaries--apostles--yes, apostle is the name +for them. They live and breathe and think and talk only the ideas +Victor Dorn believes and fights for. And whenever he wants anything +done--anything for the cause--why, there are a thousand men ready to do +it." + +"Why?" said Jane. + +"Victor Dorn," said Hull. "Do you wonder that he interests me? For +instance, to-night: you see how it's raining. Well, Victor Dorn had +them print to-day fifty thousand leaflets about this strike--what it +means to his cause. And he has asked five hundred of his men to stand +on the corners and patrol the streets and distribute those dodgers. +I'll bet not a man will be missing." + +"But why?" repeated Jane. "What for?" + +"He wants to conquer this town. He says the world has to be +conquered--and that the way to begin is to begin--and that he has +begun." + +"Conquer it for what?" + +"For himself, I guess," said Hull. "Of course, he professes that it's +for the public good. They all do. But what's the truth?" + +"If I saw him I could tell you," said Jane in the full pride of her +belief in her woman's power of divination in character. + +"However, he can't succeed," observed Hull. + +"Oh, yes, he can," replied Jane. "And will. Even if every idea he had +were foolish and wrong. And it isn't--is it?" + +David laughed peculiarly. "He's infernally uncomfortably right in most +of the things he charges and proposes. I don't like to think about +it." He shut his teeth together. "I WON'T think about it," he +muttered. + +"No--you'd better stick to your own road, Davy," said Jane with +irritating mockery. "You were born to be thoroughly conventional and +respectable. As a reformer you're ideal. As a--an imitator of Victor +Dorn, you'd be a joke." + +"There's one of his men now," exclaimed Hull, leaning forward excitedly. + +Jane looked. A working man, a commonplace enough object, was standing +under the corner street lamp, the water running off his hat, his +shoulders, his coat tail. His package of dodgers was carefully +shielded by an oilcloth from the wet which had full swing at the man. +To every passer-by he presented a dodger, accompanying the polite +gesture with some phrase which seemed to move the man or woman to take +what was offered and to put it away instead of dropping it. + +Jane sank back in the carriage, disappointed. "Is that all?" said she +disdainfully. + +"ALL?" cried Hull. "Use your imagination, Jen. But I forgot--you're a +woman. They see only surfaces." + +"And are snared into marrying by complexions and pretty features and +dresses and silly flirting tricks," retorted the girl sarcastically. + +Hull laughed. "I spoke too quick that time," said he. "I suppose you +expected to see something out of a fifteenth century Italian old +master! Well--it was there, all right." + +Jane shrugged her shoulders. "And your Victor Dorn," said she, "no +doubt he's seated in some dry, comfortable place enjoying the thought +of his men making fools of themselves for him." + +They were drawing up to the curb before the Opera House where were the +assembly rooms. "There he is now," cried Hull. + +Jane, startled, leaned eagerly forward. In the rain beyond the edge of +the awning stood a dripping figure not unlike that other which had so +disappointed her. Underneath the brim of the hat she could see a +smooth-shaven youngish face--almost boyish. But the rain streaming +from the brim made satisfactory scrutiny impossible. + +Jane again sank back. "How many carriages before us?" she said. + +"You're disappointed in him, too, I suppose," said Hull. "I knew you +would be." + +"I thought he was tall," said Jane. + +"Only middling," replied Hull, curiously delighted. + +"I thought he was serious," said Jane. + +"On the contrary, he's always laughing. He's the best natured man I +know." + +As they descended and started along the carpet under the middle of the +awning, Jane halted. She glanced toward the dripping figure whom the +police would not permit under the shelter. Said she: "I want one of +those papers." + +Davy moved toward the drenched distributor of strike literature. "Give +me one, Dorn," he said in his most elegant manner. + +"Sure, Davy," said Dorn in a tone that was a subtle commentary on +Hull's aristocratic tone and manner. As he spoke he glanced at Jane; +she was looking at him. Both smiled--at Davy's expense. + +Davy and Jane passed on in, Jane folding the dodger to tuck it away for +future reading. She said to him: "But you didn't tell me about his +eyes." + +"What's the matter with them?" + +"Everything," replied she--and said no more. + + + +II + +The dance was even more tiresome than Jane had anticipated. There had +been little pleasure in outshining the easily outshone belles of Remsen +City. She had felt humiliated by having to divide the honors with a +brilliantly beautiful and scandalously audacious Chicago girl, a Yvonne +Hereford--whose style, in looks, in dress and in wit, was more +comfortable to the standard of the best young men of Remsen City--a +standard which Miss Hastings, cultivated by foreign travel and social +adventure, regarded as distinctly poor, not to say low. Miss +Hereford's audacities were especially offensive to Jane. Jane was +audacious herself, but she flattered herself that she had a delicate +sense of that baffling distinction between the audacity that is the +hall mark of the lady and the audacity that proclaims the not-lady. +For example, in such apparently trifling matters as the way of smoking +a cigarette, the way of crossing the legs or putting the elbows on the +table or using slang, Jane found a difference, abysmal though narrow, +between herself and Yvonne Hereford. "But then, her very name gives her +away," reflected Jane. "There'd surely be a frightfully cheap streak in +a mother who in this country would name her daughter Yvonne--or in a +girl who would name herself that." + +However, Jane Hastings was not deeply annoyed either by the +shortcomings of Remsen City young men or by the rivalry of Miss +Hereford. Her dissatisfaction was personal--the feeling of futility, +of cheapness, in having dressed herself in her best and spent a whole +evening at such unworthy business. "Whatever I am or am not fit for," +said she to herself, "I'm not for society--any kind of society. At +least I'm too much grown-up mentally for that." Her disdainful +thoughts about others were, on this occasion as almost always, merely a +mode of expressing her self-scorn. + +As she was undressing she found in her party bag the dodger Hull had +got for her from Victor Dorn. She, sitting at her dressing table, +started to read it at once. But her attention soon wandered. "I'm not +in the mood," she said. "To-morrow." And she tossed it into the top +drawer. The fact was, the subject of politics interested her only when +some man in whom she was interested was talking it to her. In a +general way she understood things political, but like almost all women +and all but a few men she could fasten her attention only on things +directly and clearly and nearly related to her own interests. Politics +seemed to her to be not at all related to her--or, indeed, to anybody +but the men running for office. This dodger was politics, pure and +simple. A plea to workingmen to awaken to the fact that their STRIKES +were stupid and wasteful, that the way to get better pay and decent +hours of labor was by uniting, taking possession of the power that was +rightfully theirs and regulating their own affairs. + +She resumed fixing her hair for the night. Her glance bent steadily +downward at one stage of this performance, rested unseeingly upon the +handbill folded printed side out and on top of the contents of the open +drawer. She happened to see two capital letters--S.G.--in a line by +themselves at the end of the print. She repeated them mechanically +several times--"S.G.--S.G.--S.G."--then her hands fell from her hair +upon the handbill. She settled herself to read in earnest. + +"Selma Gordon," she said. "That's different." + +She would have had some difficulty in explaining to herself why it was +"different." She read closely, concentratedly now. She tried to read +in an attitude of unfriendly criticism, but she could not. A dozen +lines, and the clear, earnest, honest sentences had taken hold of her. +How sensible the statements were, and how obviously true. Why, it +wasn't the writing of an "anarchistic crank" at all--on the contrary, +the writer was if anything more excusing toward the men who were giving +the drivers and motormen a dollar and ten cents a day for fourteen +hours' work--"fourteen hours!" cried Jane, her cheeks burning--yes, +Selma Gordon was more tolerant of the owners of the street car line +than Jane herself would have been. + +When Jane had read, she gazed at the print with sad envy in her eyes. +"Selma Gordon can think--and she can write, too," said she half aloud. +"I want to know her--too." + +That "too" was the first admission to herself of a curiously intense +desire to meet Victor Dorn. + +"Oh, to be in earnest about something! To have a real interest! To +find something to do besides the nursery games disguised under new +forms for the grown-up yet never to be grown-up infants of the world. +And THAT kind of politics doesn't sound shallow and dull. There's +heart in it--and brains--real brains--not merely nasty little +self-seeking cunning." She took up the handbill again and read a +paragraph set in bolder type: + +"The reason we of the working class are slaves is because we haven't +intelligence enough to be our own masters, let alone masters of anybody +else. The talk of equality, workingmen, is nonsense to flatter your +silly, ignorant vanity. We are not the equals of our masters. They +know more than we do, and naturally they use that knowledge to make us +work for them. So, even if you win in this strike or in all your +strikes, you will not much better yourselves. Because you are ignorant +and foolish, your masters will scheme around and take from you in some +other way what you have wrenched from them in the strike. + +"Organize! Think! Learn! Then you will rise out of the dirt where +you wallow with your wives and your children. Don't blame your +masters; they don't enslave you. They don't keep you in slavery. Your +chains are of your own forging and only you can strike them off!" + +Certainly no tenement house woman could be lazier, emptier of head, +more inane of life than her sister Martha. "She wouldn't even keep +clean if it wasn't the easiest thing in the world for her to do, and a +help at filling in her long idle day." Yet--Martha Galland had every +comfort and most of the luxuries, was as sheltered from all the +hardships as a hot-house flower. Then there was Hugo--to go no further +afield than the family. Had he ever done an honest hour's work in his +life? Could anyone have less brains than he? Yet Hugo was rich and +respected, was a director in big corporations, was a member of a +first-class law firm. "It isn't fair," thought the girl. "I've always +felt it. I see now why. It's a bad system of taking from the many for +the benefit of us few. And it's kept going by a few clever, strong men +like father. They work for themselves and their families and relatives +and for their class--and the rest of the people have to suffer." + +She did not fall asleep for several hours, such was the tumult in her +aroused brain. The first thing the next morning she went down town, +bought copies of the New Day--for that week and for a few preceding +weeks--and retreated to her favorite nook in her father's grounds to +read and to think--and to plan. She searched the New Day in vain for +any of the wild, wandering things Davy and her father had told her +Victor Dorn was putting forth. The four pages of each number were +given over either to philosophical articles no more "anarchistic" than +Emerson's essays, not so much so as Carlyle's, or to plain accounts of +the current stealing by the politicians of Remsen City, of the squalor +and disease--danger in the tenements, of the outrages by the gas and +water and street car companies. There was much that was terrible, much +that was sad, much that was calculated to make an honest heart burn +with indignation against those who were cheerily sacrificing the whole +community to their desire for profits and dividends and graft, public +and private. But there was also a great deal of humor--of rather a +sardonic kind, but still seeing the fantastic side of this grand game +of swindle. + +Two paragraphs made an especial impression on her: + +"Remsen City is no worse--and no better--than other American cities. +It's typical. But we who live here needn't worry about the rest of the +country. The thing for us to do is to CLEAN UP AT HOME." + +"We are more careful than any paper in this town about verifying every +statement we make, before we make it. If we should publish a single +statement about anyone that was false even in part we would be +suppressed. The judges, the bosses, the owners of the big +blood-sucking public service corporations, the whole ruling class, are +eager to put us out of existence. Don't forget this fact when you hear +the New Day called a lying, demagogical sheet." + +With the paper beside her on the rustic bench, she fell to +dreaming--not of a brighter and better world, of a wiser and freer +race, but of Victor Dorn, the personality that had unaided become such +a power in Remsen City, the personality that sparkled and glowed in the +interesting pages of the New Day, that made its sentences read as if +they were spoken into your very ears by an earnest, honest voice +issuing from a fascinating, humor-loving, intensely human and natural +person before your very eyes. But it was not round Victor Dorn's brain +that her imagination played. + +"After all," thought she, "Napoleon wasn't much over five feet. Most +of the big men have been little men. Of course, there were +Alexander--and Washington--and Lincoln, but--how silly to bother about +a few inches of height, more or less! And he wasn't really SHORT. Let +me see--how high did he come on Davy when Davy was standing near him? +Above his shoulder--and Davy's six feet two or three. He's at least as +tall as I am--anyhow, in my ordinary heels." + +She was attracted by both the personalities she discovered in the +little journal. She believed she could tell them apart. About some of +the articles, the shorter ones, she was doubtful. But in those of any +length she could feel that difference which enables one to distinguish +the piano touch of a player in another room--whether it is male or +female. Presently she was searching for an excuse for scraping +acquaintance with this pair of pariahs--pariahs so far as her world was +concerned. And soon she found it. The New Day was taking +subscriptions for a fund to send sick children and their mothers to the +country for a vacation from the dirt and heat of the tenements--for +Remsen City, proud though it was and boastful of its prosperity, housed +most of its inhabitants in slums--though of course that low sort of +people oughtn't really to be counted--except for purposes of swelling +census figures--and to do all the rough and dirty work necessary to +keep civilization going. + +She would subscribe to this worthy charity--and would take her +subscription, herself. Settled--easily and well settled. She did not +involve herself, or commit herself in any way. Besides, those who +might find out and might think she had overstepped the bounds would +excuse her on the ground that she had not been back at home long and +did not realize what she was doing. + +What should she wear? + +Her instinct was for an elaborate toilet--a descent in state--or such +state as the extremely limited resources of Martin Hastings' stables +would permit. The traps he had ordered for her had not yet come; she +had been glad to accept David Hull's offer of a lift the night before. +Still, without a carriage or a motor she could make quite an impression +with a Paris walking dress and hat, properly supported by fashionable +accessories of the toilet. + +Good sense and good taste forbade these promptings of nature. No, she +would dress most simply--in her very plainest things--taking care to +maintain all her advantages of face and figure. If she overwhelmed +Dorn and Miss Gordon, she would defeat her own purpose--would not +become acquainted with them. + +In the end she rejected both courses and decided for the riding +costume. The reason she gave for this decision--the reason she gave +herself--was that the riding costume would invest the call with an air +of accident, of impulse. The real reason. + +It may be that some feminine reader can guess why she chose the most +startling, the most gracefully becoming, the most artlessly physical +apparel in her wardrobe. + +She said nothing to her father at lunch about her plans. Why should +she speak of them? He might oppose; also, she might change her mind. +After lunch she set out on her usual ride, galloping away into the +hills--but she had put twenty-five dollars in bills in her trousers +pocket. She rode until she felt that her color was at its best, and +then she made for town--a swift, direct ride, her heart beating high as +if she were upon a most daring and fateful adventure. And, as a matter +of fact, never in her life had she done anything that so intensely +interested her. She felt that she was for the first time slackening +rein upon those unconventional instincts, of unknown strength and +purpose, which had been making her restless with their vague stirrings. + +"How silly of me!" she thought. "I'm doing a commonplace, rather +common thing--and I'm trying to make it seem a daring, romantic +adventure. I MUST be hard up for excitement!" + +Toward the middle of the afternoon she dropped from her horse before +the office of the New Day and gave a boy the bridle. "I'll be back in a +minute," she explained. It was a two-story frame building, dingy and +in disrepair. On the street floor was a grocery. Access to the New +Day was by a rickety stairway. As she ascended this, making a great +noise on its unsteady boards with her boots, she began to feel cheap +and foolish. She recalled what Hull had said in the carriage. "No +doubt," replied she, "I'd feel much the same way if I were going to see +Jesus Christ--a carpenter's son, sitting in some hovel, talking with +his friends the fishermen and camel drivers--not to speak of the women." + +The New Day occupied two small rooms--an editorial work room, and a +printing work room behind it. Jane Hastings, in the doorway at the +head of the stairs, was seeing all there was to see. In the editorial +room were two tables--kitchen tables, littered with papers and +journals, as was the floor, also. At the table directly opposite the +door no one was sitting--"Victor Dorn's desk," Jane decided. At the +table by the open window sat a girl, bent over her writing. Jane saw +that the figure was below, probably much below, the medium height for +woman, that it was slight and strong, that it was clad in a simple, +clean gray linen dress. The girl's black hair, drawn into a plain but +distinctly graceful knot, was of that dense and wavy thickness which is +a characteristic and a beauty of the Hebrew race. The skin at the nape +of her neck, on her hands, on her arms bare to the elbows was of a +beautiful dead-white--the skin that so admirably compliments dead-black +hair. + +Before disturbing this busy writer Jane glanced round. There was +nothing to detain her in the view of the busy printing plant in the +room beyond. But on the walls of the room before her were four +pictures--lithographs, cheap, not framed, held in place by a tack at +each corner. There was Washington--then Lincoln--then a copy of +Leonardo's Jesus in the Last Supper fresco--and a fourth face, bearded, +powerful, imperious, yet wonderfully kind and good humored--a face she +did not know. Pointing her riding stick at it she said: + +"And who is that?" + +With a quick but not in the least a startled movement the girl at the +table straightened her form, turned in her chair, saying, as she did +so, without having seen the pointing stick: + +"That is Marx--Karl Marx." + +Jane was so astonished by the face she was now seeing--the face of the +girl--that she did not hear the reply. The girl's hair and skin had +reminded her of what Martha had told her about the Jewish, or +half-Jewish, origin of Selma Gordon. Thus, she assumed that she would +see a frankly Jewish face. Instead, the face looking at her from +beneath the wealth of thick black hair, carelessly parted near the +centre, was Russian--was Cossack--strange and primeval, intense, dark, +as superbly alive as one of those exuberant tropical flowers that seem +to cry out the mad joy of life. Only, those flowers suggest the +evanescent, the flame burning so fiercely that it must soon burn out, +while this Russian girl declared that life was eternal. You could not +think of her as sick, as old, as anything but young and vigorous and +vivid, as full of energy as a healthy baby that kicks its dresses into +rags and wears out the strength of its strapping nurse. Her nose was +as straight as Jane's own particularly fine example of nose. Her dark +gray eyes, beneath long, slender, coal black lines of brow, were +brimming with life and with fun. She had a wide, frank, scarlet mouth; +her teeth were small and sharp and regular, and of the strong and +healthy shade of white. She had a very small, but a very resolute +chin. With another quick, free movement she stood up. She was indeed +small, but formed in proportion. She seemed out of harmony with her +linen dress. She looked as if she ought to be careening on the steppes +in some romantic, half-savage costume. Jane's first and instant +thought was, "There's not another like her in the whole world. She's +the only living specimen of her kind." + +"Gracious!" exclaimed Jane. "But you ARE healthy." + +The smile took full advantage of the opportunity to broaden into a +laugh. A most flattering expression of frank, childlike admiration +came into the dark gray eyes. "You're not sickly, yourself," replied +Selma. Jane was disappointed that the voice was not untamed Cossack, +but was musically civilized. + +"Yes, but I don't flaunt it as you do," rejoined Jane. "You'd make +anyone who was the least bit off, furious." + +Selma, still with the child-like expression, but now one of curiosity, +was examining Jane's masculine riding dress. "What a sensible suit!" +she cried, delightedly. "I'd wear something like that all the time, if +I dared." + +"Dared?" said Jane. "You don't look like the frightened sort." + +"Not on account of myself," explained Selma. "On account of the cause. +You see, we are fighting for a new idea. So, we have to be careful not +to offend people's prejudices about ideas not so important. If we went +in for everything that's sensible, we'd be regarded as cranks. One +thing at a time." + +Jane's glance shifted to the fourth picture. "Didn't you say that +was--Karl Marx?" + +"Yes." + +"He wrote a book on political economy. I tried to read it at college. +But I couldn't. It was too heavy for me. He was a Socialist--wasn't +he?--the founder of Socialism?" + +"A great deal more than that," replied Selma. "He was the most +important man for human liberty that ever lived--except perhaps one." +And she looked at Leonardo's "man of sorrows and acquainted with grief." + +"Marx was a--a Hebrew--wasn't he?" + +Selma's eyes danced, and Jane felt that she was laughing at her +hesitation and choice of the softer word. Selma said: + +"Yes--he was a Jew. Both were Jews." + +"Both?" inquired Jane, puzzled. + +"Marx and Jesus," explained Selma. + +Jane was startled. "So HE was a Jew--wasn't He?" + +"And they were both labor leaders--labor agitators. The first one +proclaimed the brotherhood of man. But he regarded this world as +hopeless and called on the weary and heavy laden masses to look to the +next world for the righting of their wrongs. Then--eighteen centuries +after--came that second Jew"--Selma looked passionate, reverent +admiration at the powerful, bearded face, so masterful, yet so +kind--"and he said: 'No! not in the hereafter, but in the here. Here +and now, my brothers. Let us make this world a heaven. Let us redeem +ourselves and destroy the devil of ignorance who is holding us in this +hell.' It was three hundred years before that first Jew began to +triumph. It won't be so long before there are monuments to Marx in +clean and beautiful and free cities all over the earth." + +Jane listened intensely. There was admiring envy in her eyes as she +cried: "How splendid!--to believe in something--and work for it and +live for it--as you do!" + +Selma laughed, with a charming little gesture of the shoulders and the +hands that reminded Jane of her foreign parentage. "Nothing else seems +worth while," said she. "Nothing else is worth while. There are only +two entirely great careers--to be a teacher of the right kind and work +to ease men's minds--as those four did--or to be a doctor of the right +kind and work to make mankind healthy. All the suffering, all the +crime, all the wickedness, comes from ignorance or bad health--or both. +Usually it's simply bad health." + +Jane felt as if she were devoured of thirst and drinking at a fresh, +sparkling spring. "I never thought of that before," said she. + +"If you find out all about any criminal, big or little, you'll discover +that he had bad health--poisons in his blood that goaded him on." + +Jane nodded. "Whenever I'm difficult to get on with, I'm always not +quite well." + +"I can see that your disposition is perfect, when you are well," said +Selma. + +"And yours," said Jane. + +"Oh, I'm never out of humor," said Selma. "You see, I'm never +sick--not the least bit." + +"You are Miss Gordon, aren't you?" + +"Yes--I'm Selma Gordon." + +"My name is Jane Hastings." Then as this seemed to convey nothing to +Selma, Jane added: "I'm not like you. I haven't an individuality of +my own--that anybody knows about. So, I'll have to identify myself by +saying that I'm Martin Hastings' daughter." + +Jane confidently expected that this announcement would cause some sort +of emotion--perhaps of awe, perhaps of horror, certainly of interest. +She was disappointed. If Selma felt anything she did not show it--and +Jane was of the opinion that it would be well nigh impossible for so +direct and natural a person to conceal. Jane went on: + +"I read in your paper about your fund for sick children. I was riding +past your office--saw the sign--and I've come in to give what I happen +to have about me." She drew out the small roll of bills and handed it +to Selma. + +The Russian girl--if it is fair thus to characterize one so intensely +American in manner, in accent and in speech--took the money and said: + +"We'll acknowledge it in the paper next week." + +Jane flushed and a thrill of alarm ran through her. "Oh--please--no," +she urged. "I'd not like to have my name mentioned. That would look +as if I had done it to seem charitable. Besides, it's such a trifle." + +Selma was calm and apparently unsuspicious. "Very well," said she. +"We'll write, telling what we did with the money, so that you can +investigate." + +"But I trust you entirely," cried Jane. + +Selma shook her head. "But we don't wish to be trusted," said she. +"Only dishonest people wish to be trusted when it's possible to avoid +trusting. And we all need watching. It helps us to keep straight." + +"Oh, I don't agree with you," protested Miss Hastings. "Lots of the +time I'd hate to be watched. I don't want everybody to know all I do." + +Selma's eyes opened. "Why not?" she said. + +Jane cast about for a way to explain what seemed to her a self-evident +truth. "I mean--privacy," she said. "For instance, if you were in +love, you'd not want everybody to know about it?" + +"Yes, indeed," declared Selma. "I'd be tremendously proud of it. It +must be wonderful to be in love." + +In one of those curious twists of feminine nature, Miss Hastings +suddenly felt the glow of a strong, unreserved liking for this strange, +candid girl. + +Selma went on: "But I'm afraid I never shall be. I get no time to +think about myself. From rising till bed time my work pushes at me." +She glanced uneasily at her desk, apologetically at Miss Hastings. "I +ought to be writing this minute. The strike is occupying Victor, and +I'm helping out with his work." + +"I'm interrupting," said Jane. "I'll go." She put out her hand with +her best, her sweetest smile. "We're going to be friends--aren't we?" + +Selma clasped her hand heartily and said: "We ARE friends. I like +everybody. There's always something to like in everyone--and the bad +part isn't their fault. But it isn't often that I like anyone so much +as I do you. You are so direct and honest--quite different from the +other women of your class that I've met." + +Jane felt unaccountably grateful and humble. "I'm afraid you're too +generous. I guess you're not a very good judge of people," she said. + +"So Victor--Victor Dorn--says," laughed Selma. "He says I'm too +confiding. Well--why not? And really, he trusts everybody, +too--except with the cause. Then he's--he's"--she glanced from face to +face of the four pictures--"he's like those men." + +Jane's glance followed Selma's. She said: "Yes--I should imagine +so--from what I've heard." She startled, flushed, hid behind a +somewhat constrained manner. "Will you come up to my house to lunch?" + +"If I can find time," said Selma. "But I'd rather come and take you +for a walk. I have to walk two hours every day. It's the only thing +that'll keep my head clear." + +"When will you come?--to-morrow?" + +"Is nine o'clock too early?" + +Jane reflected that her father left for business at half-past eight. +"Nine to-morrow," she said. "Good-by again." + +As she was mounting her horse, she saw "the Cossack girl," as she was +calling her, writing away at the window hardly three feet above the +level of Jane's head when she was mounted, so low was the first story +of the battered old frame house. But Selma did not see her; she was +all intent upon the writing. "She's forgotten me already," thought +Jane with a pang of jealous vanity. She added: "But SHE has SOMETHING +to think about--she and Victor Dorn." + +She was so preoccupied that she rode away with only an absent thank you +for the small boy, in an older and much larger and wider brother's +cast-off shirt, suspenders and trousers. At the corner of the avenue +she remembered and turned her horse. There stood the boy gazing after +her with a hypnotic intensity that made her smile. She rode back +fumbling in her pockets. "I beg your pardon," said she to the boy. +Then she called up to Selma Gordon: + +"Miss Gordon--please--will you lend me a quarter until to-morrow?" + +Selma looked up, stared dazedly at her, smiled absently at Miss +Hastings--and Miss Hastings had the strongest confirmation of her +suspicion that Selma had forgotten her and her visit the instant she +vanished from the threshold of the office. Said Selma: "A +quarter?--oh, yes--certainly." She seemed to be searching a drawer or +a purse out of sight. "I haven't anything but a five dollar bill. I'm +so sorry"--this in an absent manner, with most of her thoughts +evidently still upon her work. She rose, leaned from the window, +glanced up the street, then down. She went on: + +"There comes Victor Dorn. He'll lend it to you." + +Along the ragged brick walk at a quick pace the man who had in such +abrupt fashion stormed Jane Hasting's fancy and taken possession of her +curiosity was advancing with a basket on his arm. He was indeed a man +of small stature--about the medium height for a woman--about the height +of Jane Hastings. But his figure was so well put together and his walk +so easy and free from self-consciousness that the question of stature +no sooner arose than it was dismissed. His head commanded all the +attention--its poise and the remarkable face that fronted it. The +features were bold, the skin was clear and healthy and rather fair. +His eyes--gray or green blue and set neither prominently nor +retreatedly--seemed to be seeing and understanding all that was going +on about him. He had a strong, rather relentless mouth--the mouth of +men who make and compel sacrifices for their ambitions. + +"Victor," cried Selma as soon as he was within easy range of her voice, +"please lend Miss Hastings a quarter." And she immediately sat down +and went to work again, with the incident dismissed from mind. + +The young man--for he was plainly not far beyond thirty--halted and +regarded the young woman on the horse. + +"I wish to give this young gentleman here a quarter," said Jane. "He +was very good about holding my horse." + +The words were not spoken before the young gentleman darted across the +narrow street and into a yard hidden by masses of clematis, morning +glory and sweet peas. And Jane realized that she had wholly mistaken +the meaning of that hypnotic stare. + +Victor laughed--the small figure, the vast clothes, the bare feet with +voluminous trousers about them made a ludicrous sight. "He doesn't +want it," said Victor. "Thank you just the same." + +"But I want him to have it," said Jane. + +With a significant unconscious glance at her costume Dorn said: "Those +costumes haven't reached our town yet." + +"He did some work for me. I owe it to him." + +"He's my sister's little boy," said Dorn, with his amiable, friendly +smile. "We mustn't start him in the bad way of expecting pay for +politeness." + +Jane colored as if she had been rebuked, when in fact his tone forbade +the suggestion of rebuke. There was an unpleasant sparkle in her eyes +as she regarded the young man in the baggy suit, with the basket on his +arm. "I beg your pardon," said she coldly. "I naturally didn't know +your peculiar point of view." + +"That's all right," said Dorn carelessly. "Thank you, and good day." +And with a polite raising of the hat and a manner of good humored +friendliness that showed how utterly unconscious he was of her being +offended at him, he hastened across the street and went in at the gate +where the boy had vanished. And Jane had the sense that he had +forgotten her. She glanced nervously up at the window to see whether +Selma Gordon was witnessing her humiliation--for so she regarded it. +But Selma was evidently lost in a world of her own. "She doesn't love +him," Jane decided. "For, even though she is a strange kind of person, +she's a woman--and if she had loved him she couldn't have helped +watching while he talked with another woman--especially with one of my +appearance and class." + +Jane rode slowly away. At the corner--it was a long block--she glanced +toward the scene she had just quitted. Involuntarily she drew rein. +Victor and the boy had come out into the street and were playing +catches. The game did not last long. Dorn let the boy corner him and +seize him, then gave him a great toss into the air, catching him as he +came down and giving him a hug and a kiss. The boy ran shouting +merrily into the yard; Victor disappeared in the entrance to the +offices of the New Day. + +That evening, as she pretended to listen to Hull on national politics, +and while dressing the following morning Jane reflected upon her +adventure. She decided that Dorn and the "wild girl" were a low, +ill-mannered pair with whom she had nothing in common, that her +fantastic, impulsive interest in them had been killed, that for the +future she would avoid "all that sort of cattle." She would receive +Selma Gordon politely, of course--would plead headache as an excuse for +not walking, would get rid of her as soon as possible. "No doubt," +thought Jane, with the familiar, though indignantly denied, complacence +of her class, "as soon as she gets in here she'll want to hang on. She +played it very well, but she must have been crazy with delight at my +noticing her and offering to take her up." + +The postman came as Jane was finishing breakfast. He brought a note +from Selma--a hasty pencil scrawl on a sheet of printer's copy paper: + + +"Dear Miss Hastings: For the present I'm too busy to take my walks. +So, I'll not be there to-morrow. With best regards, S.G." + + +Such a fury rose up in Jane that the undigested breakfast went wrong +and put her in condition to give such exhibition as chance might tempt +of that ugliness of disposition which appears from time to time in all +of us not of the meek and worm-like class, and which we usually +attribute to any cause under the sun but the vulgar right one. "The +impertinence!" muttered Jane, with a second glance at the note which +conveyed; among other humiliating things, an impression of her own +absolute lack of importance to Selma Gordon. "Serves me right for +lowering myself to such people. If I wanted to try to do anything for +the working class I'd have to keep away from them. They're so +unattractive to look at and to associate with--not like those shrewd, +respectful, interesting peasants one finds on the other side. They're +better in the East. They know their place in a way. But out here +they're insufferable." + +And she spent the morning quarrelling with her maid and the other +servants, issuing orders right and left, working herself into a +horrible mood dominated by a headache that was anything but a pretense. +As she wandered about the house and gardens, she trailed a beautiful +negligee with that carelessness which in a woman of clean and orderly +habits invariably indicates the possession of many clothes and of a +maid who can be counted on to freshen things up before they shall be +used again. Her father came home to lunch in high good humor. + +"I'll not go down town again for a few days," said he. "I reckon I'd +best keep out of the way. That scoundrelly Victor Dorn has done so +much lying and inciting these last four or five years that it ain't +safe for a man like me to go about when there's trouble with the hands." + +"Isn't it outrageous!" exclaimed Jane. "He ought to be stopped." + +Hastings chuckled and nodded. "And he will be," said he. "Wait till +this strike's over." + +"When will that be?" asked Jane. + +"Mighty soon," replied her father. "I was ready for 'em this +time--good and ready. I've sent word to the governor that I want the +militia down here tomorrow----" + +"Has there been a riot?" cried Jane anxiously. + +"Not yet," said Hastings. He was laughing to himself. "But there will +be to-night. Then the governor'll send the troops in to-morrow +afternoon." + +"But maybe the men'll be quiet, and then----" began Jane, sick inside +and trembling. + +"When I say a thing'll happen, it'll happen," interrupted her father. +"We've made up our minds it's time to give these fellows a lesson. +It's got to be done. A milder lesson'll serve now, where later on it'd +have to be hard. I tell you these things because I want you to +remember 'em. They'll come in handy--when you'll have to look after +your own property." + +She knew how her father hated the thought of his own death; this was +the nearest he had ever come to speaking of it. "Of course, there's +your brother William," he went on. "William's a good boy--and a mighty +good business man--though he does take risks I'd never 'a took--not +even when I was young and had nothing to lose. Yes--and Billy's +honest. BUT"--the big head shook impressively--"William's human, +Jenny--don't ever forget that. The love of money's an awful thing." A +lustful glitter like the shine of an inextinguishable fire made his +eyes fascinating and terrible. "It takes hold of a man and never lets +go. To see the money pile up--and up--and up." + +The girl turned away her gaze. She did not wish to see so far into her +father's soul. It seemed a hideous indecency. + +"So, Jenny--don't trust William, but look after your own property." + +"Oh, I don't care anything about it, popsy," she cried, fighting to +think of him and to speak to him as simply the living father she had +always insisted on seeing. + +"Yes--you do care," said Hastings sharply. "You've got to have your +money, because that's your foundation--what you're built on. And I'm +going to train you. This here strike's a good time to begin." + +After a long silence she said: "Yes, money's what I'm built on. I +might as well recognize the truth and act accordingly. I want you to +teach me, father." + +"I've got to educate you so as, when you get control, you won't go and +do fool sentimental things like some women--and some men that warn't +trained practically--men like that Davy Hull you think so well of. +Things that'd do no good and 'd make you smaller and weaker." + +"I understand," said the girl. "About this strike--WHY won't you give +the men shorter hours and better pay?" + +"Because the company can't afford it. As things are now, there's only +enough left for a three per cent dividend after the interest on the +bonds is paid." + +She had read in the New Day that by a series of tricks the "traction +ring" had quadrupled the bonded indebtedness of the roads and +multiplied the stock by six, and had pocketed the proceeds of the +steal; that three per cent on the enormously inflated capital was in +fact eighteen per cent on the actual stock value; that seven per cent +on the bonds was in fact twenty-eight per cent on the actual bonded +indebtedness; that this traction steal was a fair illustration of how +in a score of ways in Remsen City, in a thousand and one ways in all +parts of the country, the upper class was draining away the substance +of the masses, was swindling them out of their just wages, was forcing +them to pay many times the just prices for every article of civilized +use. She had read these things--she had thought about them--she had +realized that they were true. + +She did not put to her father the question that was on her lips--the +next logical question after his answer that the company could not +afford to cut the hours lower than fourteen or to raise wages to what +was necessary for a man to have if he and his family were to live, not +in decency and comfort, but in something less than squalor. She did +not put the question because she wished to spare her father--to spare +herself the shame of hearing his tricky answer--to spare herself the +discomfort of squarely facing a nasty truth. + +Instead she said: "I understand. And you have got to look out for the +rights of the people who have invested their money." + +"If I didn't I'd be cheating them," said Hastings. "And if the men +don't like their jobs, why, they can quit and get jobs they do like." +He added, in absolute unconsciousness of his inconsistency, in absolute +belief in his own honesty and goodness, "The truth is our company pays +as high wages as can be got anywhere. As for them hours--when _I_ was +working my way up, _I_ used to put in sixteen and eighteen hours a day, +and was mighty glad to do it. This lazy talk of cutting down hours +makes me sick. And these fellows that're always kicking on their jobs, +I'd like to know what'd become of them and their families if I and men +like me didn't provide work for 'em." + +"Yes, indeed!" cried Jane, eagerly seizing upon this attractive view of +the situation--and resolutely accepting it without question. + +In came one of the maids, saying: "There's a man wants to see you, Mr. +Hastings." + +"What's his name? What does he want?" inquired Hastings, while Jane +made a mental note that she must try to inject at least a little order +and form into the manners of announcing visitors. + +"He didn't give a name. He just said, 'Tell the old man I want to see +him.' I ain't sure, but I think it's Dick Kelly." + +As Lizzie was an ardent Democrat, she spoke the name +contemptuously--for Dick Kelly was the Republican boss. If it had been +House, the Democratic boss and Kelly's secret dependent and henchman, +she would have said "Mr. Joseph House" in a tone of deep respect. + +"Kelly," said Hastings. "Must be something important or he'd 'a +telephoned or asked me to see him at my office or at the Lincoln Club. +He never came out here before. Bring him in, Lizzie." + +A moment and there appeared in the doorway a man of perhaps forty years +who looked like a prosperous contractor who had risen from the ranks. +His figure was notable for its solidity and for the power of the +shoulders; but already there were indications that the solidity, come +of hard manual labor in early life, was soon to soften into fat under +the melting influence of prosperity and the dissipation it put within +too easy reach. The striking features of his face were a pair of keen, +hard, greenish eyes and a jaw that protruded uglily--the jaw of +aggressiveness, not the too prominent jaw of weakness. At sight of +Jane he halted awkwardly. + +"How're you, Mr. Hastings?" said he. + +"Hello, Dick," said the old man. "This is my daughter Jane." + +Jane smiled a pleasant recognition of the introduction. Kelly said +stiffly, "How're you, ma'am?" + +"Want to see me alone, I suppose?" Hastings went on. "You go out on +the porch, Jenny." + +As soon as Jane disappeared Kelly's stiffness and clumsiness vanished. +To head off Hastings' coming offer of a cigar, he drew one from his +pocket and lighted it. "There's hell to pay, Mr. Hastings," he began, +seating himself near the old man, tilting back in his chair and +crossing his legs. + +"Well, I reckon you can take care of it," said Hastings calmly. + +"Oh, yes, we kin take care of it, all right. Only, I don't want to do +nothing without consulting you." + +In these two statements Mr. Kelly summed up the whole of politics in +Remsen City, in any city anywhere, in the country at large. + +Kelly had started life as a blacksmith. But he soon tired of the +dullness and toil and started forth to find some path up to where men +live by making others work for them instead of plodding along at the +hand-to-mouth existence that is the lot of those who live by their own +labors alone. He was a safe blower for a while, but wisely soon +abandoned that fascinating but precarious and unremunerative career. +From card sharp following the circus and sheet-writer to a bookmaker he +graduated into bartender, into proprietor of a doggery. As every +saloon is a political club, every saloon-keeper is of necessity a +politician. Kelly's woodbox happened to be a convenient place for +directing the floaters and the repeaters. Kelly's political importance +grew apace. His respectability grew more slowly. But it had grown and +was growing. + +If you had asked Lizzie, the maid, why she was a Democrat, she would +have given no such foolish reason as the average man gives. + +She would not have twaddled about principles--when everyone with +eyeteeth cut ought to know that principles have departed from politics, +now that both parties have been harmonized and organized into agencies +of the plutocracy. She would not have said she was a Democrat because +her father was, or because all her friends and associates were. She +would have replied--in pleasantly Americanized Irish: + +"I'm a Democrat because when my father got too old to work, Mr. House, +the Democrat leader, gave him a job on the elevator at the Court +House--though that dirty thief and scoundrel, Kelly, the Republican +boss, owned all the judges and county officers. And when my brother +lost his place as porter because he took a drink too many, Mr. House +gave him a card to the foreman of the gas company, and he went to work +at eight a week and is there yet." + +Mr. Kelly and Mr. House belong to a maligned and much misunderstood +class. Whenever you find anywhere in nature an activity of any kind, +however pestiferous its activity may seem to you--or however good--you +may be sure that if you look deep enough you will find that that +activity has a use, arises from a need. The "robber trusts" and the +political bosses are interesting examples of this basic truth. They +have arisen because science, revolutionizing human society, has +compelled it to organize. The organization is crude and clumsy and +stupid, as yet, because men are ignorant, are experimenting, are +working in the dark. So, the organizing forces are necessarily crude +and clumsy and stupid. + +Mr. Hastings was--all unconsciously--organizing society industrially. +Mr. Kelly--equally unconscious of the true nature of his +activities--was organizing society politically. And as industry and +politics are--and ever have been--at bottom two names for identically +the same thing, Mr. Hastings and Mr. Kelly were bound sooner or later +to get together. + +Remsen City was organized like every other large or largish community. +There were two clubs--the Lincoln and the Jefferson--which well enough +represented the "respectable elements"--that is, those citizens who +were of the upper class. There were two other clubs--the Blaine and the +Tilden--which were similarly representative of the "rank and file" and, +rather, of the petty officers who managed the rank and file and voted +it and told it what to think and what not to think, in exchange taking +care of the needy sick, of the aged, of those out of work and so on. +Martin Hastings--the leading Republican citizen of Remsen City, though +for obvious reasons his political activities were wholly secret and +stealthy--was the leading spirit in the Lincoln Club. Jared +Olds--Remsen City's richest and most influential Democrat, the head of +the gas company and the water company--was foremost in the Jefferson +Club. At the Lincoln and the Jefferson you rarely saw any but +"gentlemen"--men of established position and fortune, deacons and +vestrymen, judges, corporation lawyers and the like. The Blaine and +the Tilden housed a livelier and a far less select class--the +"boys"--the active politicians, the big saloon keepers, the criminal +lawyers, the gamblers, the chaps who knew how to round up floaters and +to handle gangs of repeaters, the active young sports working for +political position, by pitching and carrying for the political leaders, +by doing their errands of charity or crookedness or what not. Joe +House was the "big shout" at the Tilden; Dick Kelly could be found +every evening on the third--or "wine," or plotting--floor of the +Blaine--found holding court. And very respectful indeed were even the +most eminent of Lincoln, or Jefferson, respectabilities who sought him +out there to ask favors of him. + +The bosses tend more and more to become mere flunkeys of the +plutocrats. Kelly belonged to the old school of boss, dating from the +days when social organization was in the early stages, when the +political organizer was feared and even served by the industrial +organizer, the embryo plutocrats. He realized how necessary he was to +his plutocratic master, and he made that master treat him almost as an +equal. He was exacting ever larger pay for taking care of the voters +and keeping them fooled; he was getting rich, and had as yet vague +aspirations to respectability and fashion. He had stopped drinking, +had "cut out the women," had made a beginning toward a less inelegant +way of speaking the language. His view of life was what is called +cynical. That is, he regarded himself as morally the equal of the +respectable rulers of society--or of the preachers who attended to the +religious part of the grand industry of "keeping the cow quiet while it +was being milked." + +But Mr. Kelly was explaining to Martin Hastings what he meant when he +said that there was "hell to pay": + +"That infernal little cuss, Victor Dorn," said he "made a speech in the +Court House Square to-day. Of course, none of the decent papers--and +they're all decent except his'n--will publish any of it. Still, there +was about a thousand people there before he got through--and the +thing'll spread." + +"Speech?--what about?" said Hastings. "He's always shooting off his +mouth. He'd better stop talking and go to work at some honest +business." + +"He's got on to the fact that this strike is a put-up job--that the +company hired labor detectives in Chicago last winter to come down here +and get hold of the union. He gave names--amounts paid--the whole damn +thing." + +"Um," said Hastings, rubbing his skinny hands along the shiny +pantaloons over his meagre legs. "Um." + +"But that ain't all," pursued Kelly. "He read out a list of the men +told off to pretend to set fire to the car barns and start the +riot--those Chicago chaps, you know." + +"I don't know anything about it," said Hastings sharply. + +Kelly smiled slightly--amused scorn. It seemed absurd to him for the +old man to keep up the pretense of ignorance. In fact, Hastings was +ignorant--of the details. He was not quite the aloof plutocrat of the +modern school, who permits himself to know nothing of details beyond +the dividend rate and similar innocent looking results of causes at +which sometimes hell itself would shudder. But, while he was more +active than the conscience-easing devices now working smoothly made +necessary, he never permitted himself to know any unnecessary criminal +or wicked fact about his enterprises. + +"I don't know," he repeated. "And I don't want to know." + +"Anyhow, Dorn gave away the whole thing. He even read a copy of your +letter of introduction to the governor--the one you--according to +Dorn--gave Fillmore when you sent him up to the Capitol to arrange for +the invitation to come after the riot." + +Hastings knew that the boss was deliberately "rubbing it in" because +Hastings--that is, Hastings' agents had not invited Kelly to assist in +the project for "teaching the labor element a much needed lesson." But +knowledge of Kelly's motive did not make the truth he was telling any +less true--the absurd mismanagement of the whole affair, with the +result that Dorn seemed in the way to change it from a lesson to labor +on the folly of revolt against their kind and generous but firm +employers into a provoker of fresh and fiercer revolt--effective +revolt--political revolt. So, as Kelly "rubbed," Hastings visibly +winced and writhed. + +Kelly ended his recital with: "The speech created a hell of a +sensation, Mr. Hastings. That young chap can talk." + +"Yes," snapped Hastings. "But he can't do anything else." + +"I'm not so sure of that," replied Kelly, who was wise enough to +realize the value of a bogey like Dorn--its usefulness for purposes of +"throwing a scare into the silk-stocking crowd." "Dorn's getting mighty +strong with the people." + +"Stuff and nonsense!" retorted Hastings. "They'll listen to any slick +tongued rascal that roasts those that are more prosperous than they +are. But when it comes to doing anything, they know better. They envy +and hate those that give them jobs, but they need the jobs." + +"There's a good deal of truth in that, Mr. Hastings," said Kelly, who +was nothing if not judicial. "But Dorn's mighty plausible. I hear +sensible men saying there's something more'n hot air in his facts and +figgures." Kelly paused, and made the pause significant. + +"About that last block of traction stock, Mr. Hastings. I thought you +were going to let me in on the ground floor. But I ain't heard +nothing." + +"You ARE in," said Hastings, who knew when to yield. "Hasn't Barker +been to see you? I'll attend to it, myself." + +"Thank you, Mr. Hastings," said Kelly--dry and brief as always when +receipting with a polite phrase for pay for services rendered. "I've +been a good friend to your people." + +"Yes, you have, Dick," said the old man heartily. "And I want you to +jump in and take charge." + +Hastings more than suspected that Kelly, to bring him to terms and to +force him to employ directly the high-priced Kelly or +Republico-Democratic machine as well as the State Republico-Democratic +machine, which was cheaper, had got together the inside information and +had ordered one of his henchmen to convey it to Dorn. But of what use +to quarrel with Kelly? Of course, he could depose him; but that would +simply mean putting another boss in his place--perhaps one more +expensive and less efficient. The time had been when he--and the +plutocracy generally--were compelled to come to the political bosses +almost hat in hand. That time was past, never to return. But still a +competent political agent was even harder to find than a competent +business manager--and was far more necessary; for, while a big business +might stagger along under poor financial or organizing management +within, it could not live at all without political favors, immunities, +and licenses. A band of pickpockets might as well try to work a town +without having first "squared" the police. Not that Mr. Hastings and +his friends THEMSELVES compared themselves to a band of pickpockets. +No, indeed. It was simply legitimate business to blackjack your +competitors, corner a supply, create a monopoly and fix prices and +wages to suit your own notions of what was your due for taking the +"hazardous risks of business enterprise." + +"Leave everything to me," said Kelly briskly. "I can put the thing +through. Just tell your lawyer to apply late this afternoon to Judge +Lansing for an injunction forbidding the strikers to assemble anywhere +within the county. We don't want no more of this speechifying. This +is a peaceable community, and it won't stand for no agitators." + +"Hadn't the lawyers better go to Judge Freilig?" said Hastings. + +"He's shown himself to be a man of sound ideas." + +"No--Lansing," said Kelly. "He don't come up for re-election for five +years. Freilig comes up next fall, and we'll have hard work to pull +him through, though House is going to put him on the ticket, too. +Dorn's going to make a hot campaign--concentrate on judges." + +"There's nothing in that Dorn talk," said Hastings. "You can't scare +me again, Dick, as you did with that Populist mare's nest ten years +ago." + +That had been Kelly's first "big killing" by working on the fears of +the plutocracy. Its success had put him in a position to buy a +carriage and a diamond necklace for Mrs. Kelly and to make first +payments on a large block of real estate. "It was no mare's nest, Mr. +Hastings," gravely declared the boss. "If I hadn't 'a knowed just how +to use the money we collected, there'd 'a been a crowd in office for +four years that wouldn't 'a been easy to manage, I can tell you. But +they was nothing to this here Dorn crowd. Dorn is----" + +"We must get rid of him, Dick," interrupted Hastings. + +The two men looked at each other--a curious glance--telegraphy. No +method was suggested, no price was offered or accepted. But in the +circumstances those matters became details that would settle +themselves; the bargain was struck. + +"He certainly ought to be stopped," said Kelly carelessly. "He's the +worst enemy the labor element has had in my time." He rose. "Well, Mr. +Hastings, I must be going." He extended his heavy, strong hand, which +Hastings rose to grasp. "I'm glad we're working together again without +any hitches. You won't forget about that there stock?" + +"I'll telephone about it right away, Dick--and about Judge Lansing. +You're sure Lansing's all right? I didn't like those decisions of his +last year--the railway cases, I mean." + +"That was all right, Mr. Hastings," said Kelly with a wave of the hand. +"I had to have 'em in the interests of the party. I knowed the upper +court'd reverse. No, Lansing's a good party man--a good, sound man in +every way." + +"I'm glad to hear it," said Hastings. + +Before going into his private room to think and plan and telephone, he +looked out on the west veranda. There sat his daughter; and a few feet +away was David Hull, his long form stretched in a hammock while he +discoursed of his projects for a career as a political reformer. The +sight immensely pleased the old man. When he was a boy David Hull's +grandfather, Brainerd Hull, had been the great man of that region; and +Martin Hastings, a farm hand and the son of a farm hand, had looked up +at him as the embodiment of all that was grand and aristocratic. As +Hastings had never travelled, his notions of rank and position all +centred about Remsen City. Had he realized the extent of the world, he +would have regarded his ambition for a match between the daughter and +granddaughter of a farm hand and the son and grandson of a Remsen City +aristocrat as small and ridiculous. But he did not realize. + +Davy saw him and sprang to his feet. + +"No--no--don't disturb yourselves," cried the old man. "I've got some +things to 'tend to. You and Jenny go right ahead." + +And he was off to his own little room where he conducted his own +business in his own primitive but highly efficacious way. A corps of +expert accountants could not have disentangled those crabbed, +criss-crossed figures; no solver of puzzles could have unravelled the +mystery of those strange hieroglyphics. But to the old man there +wasn't a difficult--or a dull--mark in that entire set of dirty, +dog-eared little account books. He spent hours in poring over them. +Just to turn the pages gave him keen pleasure; to read, and to +reconstruct from those hints the whole story of some agitating and +profitable operation, made in comparison the delight of an imaginative +boy in Monte Cristo or Crusoe seem a cold and tame emotion. + +David talked on and on, fancying that Jane was listening and admiring, +when in fact she was busy with her own entirely different train of +thought. She kept the young man going because she did not wish to be +bored with her own solitude, because a man about always made life at +least a little more interesting than if she were alone or with a woman, +and because Davy was good to look at and had an agreeable voice. + +"Why, who's that?" she suddenly exclaimed, gazing off to the right. + +Davy turned and looked. "I don't know her," he said. "Isn't she queer +looking--yet I don't know just why." + +"It's Selma Gordon," said Jane, who had recognized Selma the instant +her eyes caught a figure moving across the lawn. + +"The girl that helps Victor Dorn?" said Davy, astonished. "What's SHE +coming HERE for? You don't know her--do you?" + +"Don't you?" evaded Jane. "I thought you and Mr. Dorn were such pals." + +"Pals?" laughed Hull. "Hardly that. We meet now and then at a +workingman's club I'm interested in--and at a cafe' where I go to get +in touch with the people occasionally--and in the street. But I never +go to his office. I couldn't afford to do that. And I've never seen +Miss Gordon." + +"Well, she's worth seeing," said Jane. "You'll never see another like +her." + +They rose and watched her advancing. To the usual person, acutely +conscious of self, walking is not easy in such circumstances. But +Selma, who never bothered about herself, came on with that matchless +steady grace which peasant girls often get through carrying burdens on +the head. Jane called out: + +"So, you've come, after all." + +Selma smiled gravely. Not until she was within a few feet of the steps +did she answer: "Yes--but on business." She was wearing the same +linen dress. On her head was a sailor hat, beneath the brim of which +her amazingly thick hair stood out in a kind of defiance. This hat, +this further article of Western civilization's dress, added to the +suggestion of the absurdity of such a person in such clothing. But in +her strange Cossack way she certainly was beautiful--and as healthy and +hardy as if she had never before been away from the high, wind-swept +plateaus where disease is unknown and where nothing is thought of +living to be a hundred or a hundred and twenty-five. Both before and +after the introduction Davy Hull gazed at her with fascinated curiosity +too plainly written upon his long, sallow, serious face. She, intent +upon her mission, ignored him as the arrow ignores the other birds of +the flock in its flight to the one at which it is aimed. + +"You'll give me a minute or two alone?" she said to Jane. "We can walk +on the lawn here." + +Hull caught up his hat. "I was just going," said he. Then he +hesitated, looked at Selma, stammered: "I'll go to the edge of the +lawn and inspect the view." + +Neither girl noted this abrupt and absurd change of plan. He departed. +As soon as he had gone half a dozen steps, Selma said in her quick, +direct fashion: + +"I've come to see you about the strike." + +Jane tried to look cool and reserved. But that sort of expression +seemed foolish in face of the simplicity and candor of Selma Gordon. +Also, Jane was not now so well pleased with her father's ideas and +those of her own interest as she had been while she was talking with +him. The most exasperating thing about the truth is that, once one has +begun to see it--has begun to see what is for him the truth--the honest +truth--he can not hide from it ever again. So, instead of looking cold +and repellant, Jane looked uneasy and guilty. "Oh, yes--the strike," +she murmured. + +"It is over," said Selma. "The union met a half hour ago and revoked +its action--on Victor Dorn's advice. He showed the men that they had +been trapped into striking by the company--that a riot was to be +started and blamed upon them--that the militia was to be called in and +they were to be shot down." + +"Oh, no--not that!" cried Jane eagerly. "It wouldn't have gone as far +as that." + +"Yes--as far as that," said Selma calmly. "That sort of thing is an +old story. It's been done so often--and worse. You see, the +respectable gentlemen who run things hire disreputable creatures. They +don't tell them what to do. They don't need to. The poor wretches +understand what's expected of them--and they do it. So, the +respectable gentlemen can hold up white hands and say quite truthfully, +'No blood-no filth on these--see!"' Selma was laughing drearily. Her +superb, primitive eyes, set ever so little aslant, were flashing with +an intensity of emotion that gave Jane Hastings a sensation of +terror-much as if a man who has always lived where there were no +storms, but such gentle little rains with restrained and refined +thunder as usually visit the British Isles, were to find himself in the +midst of one of those awful convulsions that come crashing down the +gorges of the Rockies. She marveled that one so small of body could +contain such big emotions. + +"You mustn't be unjust," she pleaded. "WE aren't THAT wicked, my dear." + +Selma looked at her. "No matter," she said. "I am not trying to +convert you--or to denounce your friends to you. I'll explain what +I've come for. In his speech to-day and in inducing the union to +change, Victor has shown how much power he has. The men whose plans he +has upset will be hating him as men hate only those whom they fear." + +"Yes--I believe that," said Jane. "So, you see, I'm not blindly +prejudiced." + +"For a long time there have been rumors that they might kill him----" + +"Absurd!" cried Jane angrily. "Miss Gordon, no matter how prejudiced +you may be--and I'll admit there are many things to justify you in +feeling strongly--but no matter how you may feel, your good sense must +tell you that men like my father don't commit murder." + +"I understand perfectly," replied Selma. "They don't commit murder, +and they don't order murder. I'll even say that I don't think they +would tolerate murder, even for their benefit. But you don't know how +things are done in business nowadays. The men like your father have to +use men of the Kelly and the House sort--you know who they are?" + +"Yes," said Jane. + +"The Kellys and the Houses give general orders to their lieutenants. +The lieutenants pass the orders along--and down. And so on, until all +sorts of men are engaged in doing all sorts of work. Dirty, clean, +criminal--all sorts. Some of these men, baffled in what they are +trying to do to earn their pay--baffled by Victor Dorn--plot against +him." Again that sad, bitter laugh. "My dear Miss Hastings, to kill a +cat there are a thousand ways besides skinning it alive." + +"You are prejudiced," said Jane, in the manner of one who could not be +convinced. + +Selma made an impatient gesture. "Again I say, no matter. Victor +laughs at our fears----" + +"I knew it," said Jane triumphantly. "He is less foolish than his +followers." + +"He simply does not think about himself," replied Selma. "And he is +right. But it is our business to think about him, because we need him. +Where could we find another like him?" + +"Yes, I suppose your movement WOULD die out, if he were not behind it." + +Selma smiled peculiarly. "I think you don't quite understand what we +are about," said she. "You've accepted the ignorant notion of your +class that we are a lot of silly roosters trying to crow one sun out of +the heavens and another into it. The facts are somewhat different. +Your class is saying, 'To-day will last forever,' while we are saying, +'No, to-day will run its course--will be succeeded by to-morrow. Let +us not live like the fool who thinks only of the day. Let us be +sensible, intelligent, let us realize that there will be to-morrow and +that it, too, must be lived. Let us get ready to live it sensibly. Let +us build our social system so that it will stand the wear and tear of +another day and will not fall in ruins about our heads.'" + +"I am terribly ignorant about all these things," said Jane. "What a +ridiculous thing my education has been!" + +"But it hasn't spoiled your heart," cried Selma. And all at once her +eyes were wonderfully soft and tender, and into her voice came a tone +so sweet that Jane's eyes filled with tears. "It was to your heart that +I came to appeal," she went on. "Oh, Miss Hastings--we will do all we +can to protect Victor Dorn--and we guard him day and night without his +knowing it. But I am afraid--afraid! And I want you to help. Will +you?" + +"I'll do anything I can," said Jane--a Jane very different from the +various Janes Miss Hastings knew--a Jane who seemed to be conjuring of +Selma Gordon's enchantments. + +"I want you to ask your father to give him a fair show. We don't ask +any favors--for ourselves--for him. But we don't want to see him--" +Selma shuddered and covered her eyes with her hands "--lying dead in +some alley, shot or stabbed by some unknown thug!" + +Selma made it so vivid that Jane saw the whole tragedy before her very +eyes. + +"The real reason why they hate him," Selma went on, "is because he +preaches up education and preaches down violence--and is building his +party on intelligence instead of on force. The masters want the +workingman who burns and kills and riots. They can shoot him down. +They can make people accept any tyranny in preference to the danger of +fire and murder let loose. But Victor is teaching the workingmen to +stop playing the masters' game for them. No wonder they hate him! He +makes them afraid of the day when the united workingmen will have their +way by organizing and voting. And they know that if Victor Dorn lives, +that day will come in this city very, very soon." Selma saw Davy Hull, +impatient at his long wait, advancing toward them. She said: "You will +talk to your father?" + +"Yes," said Jane. "And I assure you he will do what he can. You don't +know him, Miss Gordon." + +"I know he loves you--I know he MUST love you," said Selma. "Now, I +must go. Good-by. I knew you would be glad of the chance to do +something worth while." + +Jane had been rather expecting to be thanked for her generosity and +goodness. Selma's remark seemed at first blush an irritating attempt +to shift a favor asked into a favor given. But it was impossible for +her to fail to see Selma's sensible statement of the actual truth. So, +she said honestly: + +"Thank you for coming, Miss Gordon. I am glad of the chance." + +They shook hands. Selma, holding her hand, looked up at her, suddenly +kissed her. Jane returned the kiss. David Hull, advancing with his +gaze upon them, stopped short. Selma, without a glance--because +without a thought--in his direction, hastened away. + +When David rejoined Jane, she was gazing tenderly after the small, +graceful figure moving toward the distant entrance gates. Said David: + +"I think that girl has got you hypnotized." + +Jane laughed and sent him home. "I'm busy," she said. "I've got +something to do, at last." + + + +III + +Jane knocked at the door of her father's little office. "Are you +there, father?" said she. + +"Yes--come in, Jinny." As she entered, he went on, "But you must go +right away again. I've got to 'tend to this strike." He took on an +injured, melancholy tone. "Those fool workingmen! They're certain to +lose. And what'll come of it all? Why, they'll be out their wages and +their jobs, and the company lose so much money that it can't put on the +new cars the public's clamorin' for. The old cars'll have to do for +another year, anyhow--maybe two." + +Jane had heard that lugubrious tone from time to time, and she knew +what it meant--an air of sorrow concealing secret joy. So, here was +another benefit the company--she preferred to think of it as the +company rather than as her father--expected to gain from the strike. +It could put off replacing the miserable old cars in which it was +compelling people to ride. Instead of losing money by the strike, it +would make money by it. This was Jane's first glimpse of one of the +most interesting and important truths of modern life--how it is often +to the advantage of business men to have their own business crippled, +hampered, stopped altogether. + +"You needn't worry, father," said she cheerfully. "The strike's been +declared off." + +"What's that?" cried her father. + +"A girl from down town just called. She says the union has called the +strike off and the men have accepted the company's terms." + +"But them terms is withdrawn!" cried Hastings, as if his daughter were +the union. He seized the telephone. "I'll call up the office and +order 'em withdrawn." + +"It's too late," said she. + +Just then the telephone bell rang, and Hastings was soon hearing +confirmation of the news his daughter had brought him. She could not +bear watching his face as he listened. She turned her back, stood +gazing out at the window. Her father, beside himself, was shrieking +into the telephone curses, denunciations, impossible orders. The one +emergency against which he had not provided was the union's ending the +strike. When you have struck the line of battle of a general, however +able and self-controlled, in the one spot where he has not arranged a +defense, you have thrown him--and his army--into a panic. Some of the +greatest tactitians in history have given way in those circumstances; +so, Martin Hastings' utter loss of self-control and of control of the +situation only proves that he had his share of human nature. He had +provided against the unexpected; he had not provided against the +impossible. + +Jane let her father rave on into the telephone until his voice grew +hoarse and squeaky. Then she turned and said: "Now, father--what's +the use of making yourself sick? You can't do any good--can you?" She +laid one hand on his arm, with the other hand caressed his head. "Hang +up the receiver and think of your health." + +"I don't care to live, with such goings-on," declared he. But he hung +up the receiver and sank back in his chair, exhausted. + +"Come out on the porch," she went on, tugging gently at him. "The air's +stuffy in here." + +He rose obediently. She led him to the veranda and seated him +comfortably, with a cushion in his back at the exact spot at which it +was most comfortable. She patted his shrunken cheeks, stood off and +looked at him. + +"Where's your sense of humor?" she cried. "You used to be able to +laugh when things went against you. You're getting to be as solemn and +to take yourself as seriously as Davy Hull." + +The old man made a not unsuccessful attempt to smile. "That there +Victor Dorn!" said he. "He'll be the death of me, yet." + +"What has he done now?" said Jane, innocently. + +Hastings rubbed his big bald forehead with his scrawny hand. "He's +tryin' to run this town--to run it to the devil," replied he, by way of +evasion. + +"Something's got to be done about him--eh?" observed she, in a fine +imitation of a business-like voice. + +"Something WILL be done," retorted he. + +Jane winced--hid her distress--returned to the course she had mapped +out for herself. "I hope it won't be something stupid," said she. +Then she seated herself and went on. "Father--did you ever stop to +wonder whether it is Victor Dorn or the changed times?" + +The old man looked up abruptly and sharply--the expression of a shrewd +man when he catches a hint of a new idea that sounds as if it might +have something in it. + +"You blame Victor Dorn," she went on to explain. "But if there were no +Victor Dorn, wouldn't you be having just the same trouble? Aren't men +of affairs having them everywhere--in Europe as well as on this +side--nowadays?" + +The old man rubbed his brow--his nose--his chin--pulled at the tufts of +hair in his ears--fumbled with his cuffs. All of these gestures +indicated interest and attention. + +"Isn't the real truth not Victor Dorn or Victor Dorns but a changed and +changing world?" pursued the girl. "And if that's so, haven't you +either got to adopt new methods or fall back? That's the way it looks +to me--and we women have got intuitions if we haven't got sense." + +"_I_ never said women hadn't got sense," replied the old man. "I've +sometimes said MEN ain't got no sense, but not women. Not to go no +further, the women make the men work for 'em--don't they? THAT'S a +pretty good quality of sense, _I_ guess." + +But she knew he was busily thinking all the time about what she had +said. So she did not hesitate to go on: "Instead of helping Victor +Dorn by giving him things to talk about, it seems to me I'd USE him, +father." + +"Can't do anything with him. He's crazy," declared Hastings. + +"I don't believe it," replied Jane. "I don't believe he's crazy. And +I don't believe you can't manage him. A man like that--a man as clever +as he is--doesn't belong with a lot of ignorant tenement-house people. +He's out of place. And when anything or anybody is out of place, they +can be put in their right place. Isn't that sense?" + +The old man shook his head--not in negation, but in uncertainty. + +"These men are always edging you on against Victor Dorn--what's the +matter with them?" pursued Jane. "_I_ saw, when Davy Hull talked about +him. They're envious and jealous of him, father. They're afraid he'll +distance them. And they don't want you to realize what a useful man he +could be--how he could help you if you helped him--made friends with +him--roused the right kind of ambition in him." + +"When a man's ambitious," observed Hastings, out of the fullness of his +own personal experience, "it means he's got something inside him, +teasing and nagging at him--something that won't let him rest, but +keeps pushing and pulling--and he's got to keep fighting, trying to +satisfy it--and he can't wait to pick his ground or his weapons." + +"And Victor Dorn," said Jane, to make it clearer to her father by +putting his implied thought into words, "Victor Dorn is doing the best +he can--fighting on the only ground that offers and with the only +weapons he can lay hands on." + +The old man nodded. "I never have blamed him--not really," declared +he. "A practical man--a man that's been through things--he understands +how these things are," in the tone of a philosopher. "Yes, I reckon +Victor's doing the best he can--getting up by the only ladder he's got +a chance at." + +"The way to get him off that ladder is to give him another," said Jane. + +A long silence, the girl letting her father thresh the matter out in +his slow, thorough way. Finally her young impatience conquered her +restraint. "Well--what do you think, popsy?" inquired she. + +"That I've got about as smart a gel as there is in Remsen City," +replied he. + +"Don't lay it on too thick," laughed she. + +He understood why she was laughing, though he did not show it. He knew +what his much-traveled daughter thought of Remsen City, but he held to +his own provincial opinion, nevertheless. Nor, perhaps, was he so far +wrong as she believed. A cross section of human society, taken almost +anywhere, will reveal about the same quantity of brain, and the quality +of the mill is the thing, not of the material it may happen to be +grinding. + +She understood that his remark was his way of letting her know that he +had taken her suggestion under advisement. This meant that she had +said enough. And Jane Hastings had made herself an adept in the art of +handling her father--an accomplishment she could by no means have +achieved had she not loved him; it is only when a woman deeply and +strongly loves a man that she can learn to influence him, for only love +can put the necessary sensitiveness into the nerves with which moods +and prejudices and whims and such subtle uncertainties can be felt out. + +The next day but one, coming out on the front veranda a few minutes +before lunch time she was startled rather than surprised to see Victor +Dorn seated on a wicker sofa, hat off and gaze wandering delightedly +over the extensive view of the beautiful farming country round Remsen +City. She paused in the doorway to take advantage of the chance to +look at him when he was off his guard. Certainly that profile view of +the young man was impressive. It is only in the profile that we get a +chance to measure the will or propelling force behind a character. In +each of the two main curves of Dorn's head--that from the top of the +brow downward over the nose, the lips, the chin and under, and that +from the back of the head round under the ear and forward along the +lower jaw--in each of these curves Dorn excelled. + +She was about to draw back and make a formal entry, when he said, +without looking toward her: + +"Well--don't you think it would be safe to draw near?" + +The tone was so easy and natural and so sympathetic--the tone of Selma +Gordon--the tone of all natural persons not disturbed about themselves +or about others--that Jane felt no embarrassment whatever. "I've heard +you were very clever," said she, advancing. "So, I wanted to have the +advantage of knowing you a little better at the outset than you would +know me." + +"But Selma Gordon has told me all about you," said he--he had risen as +she advanced and was shaking hands with her as if they were old +friends. "Besides, I saw you the other day--in spite of your effort to +prevent yourself from being seen." + +"What do you mean?" she asked, completely mystified. + +"I mean your clothes," explained he. "They were unusual for this part +of the world. And when anyone wears unusual clothes, they act as a +disguise. Everyone neglects the person to center on the clothes." + +"I wore them to be comfortable," protested Jane, wondering why she was +not angry at this young man whose manner ought to be regarded as +presuming and whose speech ought to be rebuked as impertinent. + +"Altogether?" said Dorn, his intensely blue eyes dancing. + +In spite of herself she smiled. "No--not altogether," she admitted. + +"Well, it may please you to learn that you scored tremendously as far +as one person is concerned. My small nephew talks of you all the +time--the 'lady in the lovely pants.'" + +Jane colored deeply and angrily. She bent upon Victor a glance that +ought to have put him in his place--well down in his place. + +But he continued to look at her with unchanged, laughing, friendly blue +eyes, and went on: "By the way, his mother asked me to apologize for +HIS extraordinary appearance. I suppose neither of you would recognize +the other in any dress but the one each had on that day. He doesn't +always dress that way. His mother has been ill. He wore out his +play-clothes. If you've had experience of children you'll know how +suddenly they demolish clothes. She wasn't well enough to do any +tailoring, so there was nothing to do but send Leonard forth in his big +brother's unchanged cast-offs." + +Jane's anger had quite passed away before Dorn finished this simple, +ingenuous recital of poverty unashamed, this somehow fine laying open +of the inmost family secrets. "What a splendid person your sister must +be!" exclaimed she. + +She more than liked the look that now came into his face. He said: +"Indeed she is!--more so than anyone except us of the family can +realize. Mother's getting old and almost helpless. My brother-in-law +was paralyzed by an accident at the rolling mill where he worked. My +sister takes care of both of them--and her two boys--and of me--keeps +the house in band-box order, manages a big garden that gives us most of +what we eat--and has time to listen to the woes of all the neighbors +and to give them the best advice I ever heard." + +"How CAN she?" cried Jane. "Why, the day isn't long enough." + +Dorn laughed. "You'll never realize how much time there is in a day, +Miss Jane Hastings, until you try to make use of it all. It's very +interesting--how much there is in a minute and in a dollar if you're +intelligent about them." + +Jane looked at him in undisguised wonder and admiration. "You don't +know what a pleasure it is," she said, "to meet anyone whose sentences +you couldn't finish for him before he's a quarter the way through them." + +Victor threw back his head and laughed--a boyish outburst that would +have seemed boorish in another, but came as naturally from him as song +from a bird. "You mean Davy Hull," said he. + +Jane felt herself coloring even more. "I didn't mean him especially," +replied she. "But he's a good example." + +"The best I know," declared Victor. "You see, the trouble with Davy is +that he is one kind of a person, wants to be another kind, thinks he +ought to be a third kind, and believes he fools people into thinking he +is still a fourth kind." + +Jane reflected on this, smiled understandingly. "That sounds like a +description of ME," said she. + +"Probably," said Victor. "It's a very usual type in the second +generation in your class." + +"My class?" said Jane, somewhat affectedly. "What do you mean?" + +"The upper class," explained Victor. + +Jane felt that this was an opportunity for a fine exhibition of her +democracy. "I don't like that," said she. "I'm a good American, and I +don't believe in classes. I don't feel--at least I try not to +feel--any sense of inequality between myself and those--those +less--less--fortunately off. I'm not expressing myself well, but you +know what I mean." + +"Yes, I know what you mean," rejoined Victor. "But that wasn't what I +meant, at all. You are talking about social classes in the narrow +sense. That sort of thing isn't important. One associates with the +kind of people that pleases one--and one has a perfect right to do so. +If I choose to have my leisure time with people who dress a certain +way, or with those who have more than a certain amount of money, or +more than a certain number of servants or what not--why, that's my own +lookout." + +"I'm SO glad to hear you say that," cried Jane. "That's SO sensible." + +"Snobbishness may be amusing," continued Dorn, "or it may be +repulsive--or pitiful. But it isn't either interesting or important. +The classes I had in mind were the economic classes--upper, middle, +lower. The upper class includes all those who live without +work--aristocrats, gamblers, thieves, preachers, women living off men +in or out of marriage, grown children living off their parents or off +inheritances. All the idlers." + +Jane looked almost as uncomfortable as she felt. She had long taken a +secret delight in being regarded and spoken of as an "upper class" +person. Henceforth this delight would be at least alloyed. + +"The middle class," pursued Victor, "is those who are in part parasites +and in part workers. The lower class is those who live by what they +earn only. For example, you are upper class, your father is middle +class and I am lower class." + +"Thank you," said Jane demurely, "for an interesting lesson in +political economy." + +"You invited it," laughed Victor. "And I guess it wasn't much more +tiresome to you than talk about the weather would have been. The +weather's probably about the only other subject you and I have in +common." + +"That's rude," said Jane. + +"Not as I meant it," said he. "I wasn't exalting my subjects or +sneering at yours. It's obvious that you and I lead wholly different +lives." + +"I'd much rather lead your life than my own," said Jane. "But--you are +impatient to see father. You came to see him?" + +"He telephoned asking me to come to dinner--that is, lunch. I believe +it's called lunch when it's second in this sort of house." + +"Father calls it dinner, and I call it lunch, and the servants call it +IT. They simply say, 'It's ready.'" + +Jane went in search of her father, found him asleep in his chair in the +little office, one of his dirty little account books clasped in his +long, thin fingers with their rheumatic side curve. The maid had seen +him there and had held back dinner until he should awaken. Perhaps +Jane's entrance roused him; or, perhaps it was the odor of the sachet +powder wherewith her garments were liberally scented, for he had a +singularly delicate sense of smell. He lifted his head and, after the +manner of aged and confirmed cat-nappers, was instantly wide awake. + +"Why didn't you tell me Victor Dorn was coming for dinner?" said she. + +"Oh--he's here, is he?" said Hastings, chuckling. "You see I took your +advice. Tell Lizzie to lay an extra plate." + +Hastings regarded this invitation as evidence of his breadth of mind, +his freedom from prejudice, his disposition to do the generous and the +helpful thing. In fact, it was evidence of little more than his +dominant and most valuable trait--his shrewdness. After one careful +glance over the ruins of his plan, he appreciated that Victor Dorn was +at last a force to be reckoned with. He had been growing, +growing--somewhat above the surface, a great deal more beneath the +surface. His astonishing victory demonstrated his power over Remsen +City labor--in a single afternoon he had persuaded the street car union +to give up without hesitation a strike it had been planning--at least, +it thought it had been doing the planning--for months. The Remsen City +plutocracy was by no means dependent upon the city government of Remsen +City. It had the county courts--the district courts--the State courts +even, except where favoring the plutocracy would be too obviously +outrageous for judges who still considered themselves men of honest and +just mind to decide that way. The plutocracy, further, controlled all +the legislative and executive machinery. To dislodge it from these +fortresses would mean a campaign of years upon years, conducted by men +of the highest ability, and enlisting a majority of the voters of the +State. Still, possession of the Remsen City government was a most +valuable asset. A hostile government could "upset business," could +"hamper the profitable investment of capital," in other words could +establish justice to a highly uncomfortable degree. This victory of +Dorn's made it clear to Hastings that at last Dorn was about to unite +the labor vote under his banner--which meant that he was about to +conquer the city government. It was high time to stop him and, if +possible, to give his talents better employment. + +However, Hastings, after the familiar human fashion, honestly thought +he was showing generosity, was going out of his way to "give a likely +young fellow a chance." When he came out on the veranda he stretched +forth a graciously friendly hand and, looking shrewdly into Victor's +boyishly candid eyes, said: + +"Glad to see you, young man. I want to thank you for ending that +strike. I was born a working man, and I've been one all my life and, +when I can't work any more, I want to quit the earth. So, being a +working man, I hate to see working men make fools of themselves." + +Jane was watching the young man anxiously. She instinctively knew that +this speech must be rousing his passion for plain and direct speaking. +Before he had time to answer she said: "Dinner's waiting. Let's go in." + +And on the way she made an opportunity to say to him in an undertone: +"I do hope you'll be careful not to say anything that'll upset father. +I have to warn every one who comes here. His digestion's bad, and the +least thing makes him ill, and--" she smiled charmingly at him--"I HATE +nursing. It's too much like work to suit an upper-class person." + +There was no resisting such an appeal as that. Victor sat silent and +ate, and let the old man talk on and on. Jane saw that it was a severe +trial to him to seem to be assenting to her father's views. Whenever +he showed signs of casting off his restraint, she gave him a pleading +glance. And the old man, so weazened, so bent and shaky, with his bowl +of crackers and milk, was--or seemed to be--proof that the girl was +asking of him only what was humane. Jane relieved the situation by +talking volubly about herself--her college experiences, what she had +seen and done in Europe. + +After dinner Hastings said: + +"I'll drive you back to town, young man. I'm going in to work, as +usual. I never took a vacation in my life. Can you beat that record?" + +"Oh, I knock off every once in a while for a month or so," said Dorn. + +"The young fellows growing up nowadays ain't equal to us of the old +stock," said Martin. "They can't stand the strain. Well, if you're +ready, we'll pull out." + +"Mr. Dorn's going to stop a while with me, father," interposed Jane +with a significant glance at Victor. "I want to show him the grounds +and the views." + +"All right--all right," said her father. He never liked company in his +drives; company interfered with his thinking out what he was going to +do at the office. "I'm mighty glad to know you, young man. I hope +we'll know each other better. I think you'll find out that for a devil +I'm not half bad--eh?" + +Victor bowed, murmured something inarticulate, shook his host's hand, +and when the ceremony of parting was over drew a stealthy breath of +relief--which Jane observed. She excused herself to accompany her +father to his trap. As he was climbing in she said: + +"Didn't you rather like him, father?" + +Old Hastings gathered the reins in his lean, distorted hands. "So so," +said he. + +"He's got brains, hasn't he?" + +"Yes; he's smart; mighty smart." The old man's face relaxed in a +shrewd grin. "Too damn smart. Giddap, Bet." + +And he was gone. Jane stood looking after the ancient phaeton with an +expression half of amusement, half of discomfiture. "I might have +known," reflected she, "that popsy would see through it all." + +When she reappeared in the front doorway Victor Dorn was at the edge of +the veranda, ready to depart. As soon as he saw her he said gravely: +"I must be off, Miss Hastings. Thank you for the very interesting +dinner." He extended his hand. "Good day." + +She put her hands behind her back, and stood smiling gently at him. +"You mustn't go--not just yet. I'm about to show you the trees and the +grass, the bees, the chickens and the cows. Also, I've something +important to say to you." + +He shook his head. "I'm sorry, but I must go." + +She stiffened slightly; her smile changed from friendly to cold. +"Oh--pardon me," she said. "Good-by." + +He bowed, and was on the walk, and running rapidly toward the entrance +gates. + +"Mr. Dorn!" she called. + +He turned. + +She was afraid to risk asking him to come back for a moment. He might +refuse. Standing there, looking so resolute, so completely master of +himself, so devoid of all suggestion of need for any one or anything, +he seemed just the man to turn on his heel and depart. She descended +to the walk and went to him. She said: + +"Why are you acting so peculiarly? Why did you come?" + +"Because I understood that your father wished to propose some changes +in the way of better hours and better wages for the men," replied he. +"I find that the purpose was--not that." + +"What was it?" + +"I do not care to go into that." + +He was about to go on--on out of her life forever, she felt. "Wait," +she cried. "The men will get better hours and wages. You don't +understand father's ways. He was really discussing that very thing--in +his own mind. You'll see. He has a great admiration for you. You can +do a lot with him. You owe it to the men to make use of his liking." + +He looked at her in silence for a moment. Then he said: "I'll have to +be at least partly frank with you. In all his life no one has ever +gotten anything out of your father. He uses men. They do not use him." + +"Believe me, that is unjust," cried Jane. "I'll tell you another thing +that was on his mind. He wants to--to make reparation for--that +accident to your father. He wants to pay your mother and you the money +the road didn't pay you when it ought." + +Dorn's candid face showed how much he was impressed. This beautiful, +earnest girl, sweet and frank, seemed herself to be another view of +Martin Hastings' character--one more in accord with her strong belief +in the essential goodness of human nature. + +Said he: "Your father owes us nothing. As for the road--its debt +never existed legally--only morally. And it has been outlawed long +ago--for there's a moral statute of limitations, too. The best thing +that ever happened to us was our not getting that money. It put us on +our mettle. It might have crushed us. It happened to be just the thing +that was needed to make us." + +Jane marveled at this view of his family, at the verge of poverty, as +successful. But she could not doubt his sincerity. Said she sadly, +"But it's not to the credit of the road--or of father. He must +pay--and he knows he must." + +"We can't accept," said Dorn--a finality. + +"But you could use it to build up the paper," urged Jane, to detain him. + +"The paper was started without money. It lives without money--and it +will go on living without money, or it ought to die." + +"I don't understand," said Jane. "But I want to understand. I want to +help. Won't you let me?" + +He shook his head laughingly. "Help what?" inquired he. "Help raise +the sun? It doesn't need help." + +Jane began to see. "I mean, I want to be helped," she cried. + +"Oh, that's another matter," said he. "And very simple." + +"Will YOU help me?" + +"I can't. No one can. You've got to help yourself. Each one of us is +working for himself--working not to be rich or to be famous or to be +envied, but to be free." + +"Working for himself--that sounds selfish, doesn't it?" + +"If you are wise, Jane Hastings," said Dorn, "you will +distrust--disbelieve in--anything that is not selfish." + +Jane reflected. "Yes--I see," she cried. "I never thought of that!" + +"A friend of mine, Wentworth," Victor went on, "has put it wonderfully +clearly. He said, 'Some day we shall realize that no man can be free +until all men are free.'" + +"You HAVE helped me--in spite of your fierce refusal," laughed Jane. +"You are very impatient to go, aren't you? Well, since you won't stay +I'll walk with you--as far as the end of the shade." + +She was slightly uneasy lest her overtures should be misunderstood. By +the time they reached the first long, sunny stretch of the road down to +town she was so afraid that those overtures would not be +"misunderstood" that she marched on beside him in the hot sun. She did +not leave him until they reached the corner of Pike avenue--and then it +was he that left her, for she could cudgel out no excuse for going +further in his direction. The only hold she had got upon him for a +future attempt was slight indeed--he had vaguely agreed to lend her +some books. + +People who have nothing to do get rid of a great deal of time in trying +to make impressions and in speculating as to what impressions they have +made. Jane--hastening toward Martha's to get out of the sun which +could not but injure a complexion so delicately fine as hers--gave +herself up to this form of occupation. What did he think of her? Did +he really have as little sense of her physical charm as he seemed? No +woman could hope to be attractive to every man. Still--this man surely +must be at least not altogether insensible. "If he sends me those +books to-day--or tomorrow--or even next day," thought Jane, "it will be +a pretty sure sign that he was impressed--whether he knows it or not." + +She had now definitely passed beyond the stage where she wondered at +herself--and reproached herself--for wishing to win a man of such +common origin and surroundings. She could not doubt Victor Dorn's +superiority. Such a man as that didn't need birth or wealth or even +fame. He simply WAS the man worth while--worth any woman's while. How +could Selma be associated so intimately with him without trying to get +him in love with her? Perhaps she had tried and had given up? +No--Selma was as strange in her way as he was in his way. What a +strange--original--INDIVIDUAL pair they were! + +"But," concluded Jane, "he belongs with US. I must take him away from +all that. It will be interesting to do it--so interesting that I'll be +sorry when it's done, and I'll be looking about for something else to +do." + +She was not without hope that the books would come that same evening. +But they did not. The next day passed, and the next, and still no +books. Apparently he had meant nothing by his remark, "I've some books +you'd be interested to read." Was his silence indifference, or was it +shyness? Probably she could only faintly appreciate the effect her +position, her surroundings produced in this man whose physical +surroundings had always been as poor as her mental surroundings--those +created by that marvelous mind of his--had been splendid. + +She tried to draw out her father on the subject of the young man, with +a view to getting a hint as to whether he purposed doing anything +further. But old Hastings would not talk about it; he was still +debating, was looking at the matter from a standpoint where his +daughter's purely theoretical acumen could not help him to a decision. +Jane rather feared that where her father was evidently so doubtful he +would follow his invariable rule in doubtful cases. + +On the fourth day, being still unable to think of anything but her +project for showing her prowess by conquering this man with no time for +women, she donned a severely plain walking costume and went to his +office. + +At the threshold of the "Sanctum" she stopped short. Selma, pencil +poised over her block of copy paper and every indication of impatience, +albeit polite impatience, in her fascinating Cossack face, was talking +to--or, rather, listening to--David Hull. Like not a few young +men--and young women--brought up in circumstances that surround them +with people deferential for the sake of what there is, or may possibly +be, in it--Davy Hull had the habit of assuming that all the world was +as fond of listening to him as he was of listening to himself. So it +did not often occur to him to observe his audience for signs of a +willingness to end the conversation. + +Selma, turning a little further in her nervousness, saw Jane and sprang +up with a radiant smile of welcome. + +"I'm SO glad!" she cried, rushing toward her and kissing her. "I've +thought about you often, and wished I could find time to come to see +you." + +Jane was suddenly as delighted as Selma. For Selma's burst of +friendliness, so genuine, so unaffected, in this life of blackness and +cold always had the effect of sun suddenly making summer out of a chill +autumnal day. Nor, curiously enough, was her delight lessened by Davy +Hull's blundering betrayal of himself. His color, his eccentric +twitchings of the lips and the hands would have let a far less astute +young woman than Jane Hastings into the secret of the reason for his +presence in that office when he had said he couldn't "afford" to go. +So guilty did he feel that he stammered out: + +"I dropped in to see Dorn." + +"You wished to see Victor?" exclaimed the guileless Selma. "Why didn't +you say so? I'd have told you at once that he was in Indianapolis and +wouldn't be back for two or three days." + +Jane straightway felt still better. The disgusting mystery of the +books that did not come was now cleared up. Secure in the certainty of +Selma's indifference to Davy she proceeded to punish him. "What a +stupid you are, Davy!" she cried mockingly. "The instant I saw your +face I knew you were here to flirt with Miss Gordon." + +"Oh, no, Miss Hastings," protested Selma with quaint intensity of +seriousness, "I assure you he was not flirting. He was telling me +about the reform movement he and his friends are organizing." + +"That is his way of flirting," said Jane. "Every animal has its own +way--and an elephant's way is different from a mosquito's." + +Selma was eyeing Hull dubiously. It was bad enough for him to have +taken her time in a well-meaning attempt to enlighten her as to a new +phase of local politics; to take her time, to waste it, in +flirting--that was too exasperating! + +"Miss Hastings has a sense of humor that runs riot at times," said Hull. + +"You can't save yourself, Davy," mocked Jane. "Come along. Miss Gordon +has no time for either of us." + +"I do want YOU to stay," she said to Jane. "But, unfortunately, with +Victor away----" She looked disconsolately at the half-finished page +of copy. + +"I came only to snatch Davy away," said Jane. + +"Next thing we know, he'll be one of Mr. Dorn's lieutenants." + +Thus Jane escaped without having to betray why she had come. In the +street she kept up her raillery. "And a WORKING girl, Davy! What would +our friends say! And you who are always boasting of your +fastidiousness! Flirting with a girl who--I've seen her three times, +and each time she has had on exactly the same plain, cheap little +dress." + +There was a nastiness, a vulgarity in this that was as unworthy of Jane +as are all the unlovely emotions of us who are always sweet and refined +when we are our true selves--but have a bad habit of only too often not +being what we flatter ourselves is our true selves. Jane was growing +angry as she, away from Selma, resumed her normal place in the world +and her normal point of view. Davy Hull belonged to her; he had no +right to be hanging about another, anyway--especially an attractive +woman. Her anger was not lessened by Davy's retort. Said he: + +"Her dress may have been the same. But her face wasn't--and her mind +wasn't. Those things are more difficult to change than a dress." + +She was so angry that she did not take warning from this reminder that +Davy was by no means merely a tedious retailer of stale commonplaces. +She said with fine irony--and with no show of anger: "It is always a +shock to a lady to realize how coarse men are--how they don't +discriminate." + +Davy laughed. "Women get their rank from men," said he coolly. + +"In themselves they have none. That's the philosophy of the +peculiarity you've noted." + +This truth, so galling to a lady, silenced Jane, made her bite her lips +with rage. "I beg your pardon," she finally said. "I didn't realize +that you were in love with Selma." + +"Yes, I am in love with her," was Davy's astounding reply. "She's the +noblest and simplest creature I've ever met." + +"You don't mean you want to marry her!" exclaimed Jane, so amazed that +she for the moment lost sight of her own personal interest in this +affair. + +Davy looked at her sadly, and a little contemptuously. + +"What a poor opinion at bottom you women--your sort of women--have of +woman," said he. + +"What a poor opinion of men you mean," retorted she. "After a little +experience of them a girl--even a girl--learns that they are incapable +of any emotion that isn't gross." + +"Don't be so ladylike, Jane," said Hull. + +Miss Hastings was recovering control of herself. She took a new tack. +"You haven't asked her yet?" + +"Hardly. This is the second time I've seen her. I suspected that she +was the woman for me the moment I saw her. To-day I confirmed my idea. +She is all that I thought--and more. And, Jane, I know that you +appreciate her, too." + +Jane now saw that Davy was being thus abruptly and speedily confiding +because he had decided it was the best way out of his entanglement with +her. Behind his coolness she could see an uneasy watchfulness--the +fear that she might try to hold him. Up boiled her rage--the higher +because she knew that if there were any possible way of holding Davy, +she would take it--not because she wished to, or would, marry him, but +because she had put her mark upon him. But this new rage was of the +kind a clever woman has small difficulty in dissembling. + +"Indeed I do appreciate her, Davy," said she sweetly. "And I hope you +will be happy with her." + +"You think I can get her?" said he, fatuously eager. "You think she +likes me? I've been rather hoping that because it seized me so +suddenly and so powerfully it must have seized her, too. I think often +things occur that way." + +"In novels," said Jane, pleasantly judicial. "But in real life about +the hardest thing to do is for a man to make a woman care for +him--really care for him." + +"Well, no matter how hard I have to try----" + +"Of course," pursued Miss Hastings, ignoring his interruption, "when a +man who has wealth and position asks a woman who hasn't to marry him, +she usually accepts--unless he happens to be downright repulsive, or +she happens to be deeply and hopefully in love with another man." + +Davy winced satisfactorily. "Do you suspect," he presently asked, +"that she's in love with Victor Dorn?" + +"Perhaps," said Jane reflectively. "Probably. But I'd not feel +discouraged by that if I were you." + +"Dorn's a rather attractive chap in some ways." + +Davy's manner was so superior that Jane almost laughed in his face. +What fools men were. If Victor Dorn had position, weren't surrounded +by his unquestionably, hopelessly common family, weren't deliberately +keeping himself common--was there a woman in the world who wouldn't +choose him without a second thought being necessary, in preference to a +Davy Hull? How few men there were who could reasonably hope to hold +their women against all comers. + +Victor Dorn might possibly be of those few. But Davy Hull--the idea +was ridiculous. All his advantages--height, looks, money, +position--were excellent qualities in a show piece; but they weren't +the qualities that make a woman want to live her life with a man, that +make her hope he will be able to give her the emotions woman-nature +craves beyond anything. + +"He is very attractive," said Jane, "and I've small doubt that Selma +Gordon is infatuated with him. But--I shouldn't let that worry me if I +were you." She paused to enjoy his anxiety, then proceeded: "She is a +level-headed girl. The girls of the working class--the intelligent +ones--have had the silly sentimentalities knocked out of them by +experience. So, when you ask her to marry you, she will accept." + +"What a low opinion you have of her!" exclaimed Davy. "What a low view +you take of life!"--most inconsistent of him, since he was himself more +than half convinced that Jane's observations were not far from the +truth. + +"Women are sensible," said Jane tranquilly. "They appreciate that +they've got to get a man to support them. Don't forget, my dear Davy, +that marriage is a woman's career." + +"You lived abroad too long," said Hull bitterly. + +"I've lived at home and abroad long enough and intelligently enough not +to think stupid hypocrisies, even if I do sometimes imitate other +people and SAY them." + +"I am sure that Selma Gordon would no more think of marrying me for any +other reason but love--would no more think of it than--than YOU would!" + +"No more," was Jane's unruffled reply. "But just as much. I didn't +absolutely refuse you, when you asked me the other day, partly because +I saw no other way of stopping your tiresome talk--and your +unattractive way of trying to lay hands on me. I DETEST being handled." + +Davy was looking so uncomfortable that he attracted the attention of +the people they were passing in wide, shady Lincoln Avenue. + +"But my principal reason," continued Jane, mercilessly amiable and +candid, "was that I didn't know but that you might prove to be about +the best I could get, as a means to realizing my ambition." She looked +laughingly at the unhappy young man. "You didn't think I was in love +with you, did you, Davy dear?" Then, while the confusion following this +blow was at its height, she added: "You'll remember one of your chief +arguments for my accepting you was ambition. You didn't think it low +then--did you?" + +Hull was one of the dry-skinned people. But if he had been sweating +profusely he would have looked and would have been less wretched than +burning up in the smothered heat of his misery. + +They were nearing Martha's gates. Jane said: "Yes, Davy, you've got a +good chance. And as soon as she gets used to our way of living, she'll +make you a good wife." She laughed gayly. + +"She'll not be quite so pretty when she settles down and takes on +flesh. I wonder how she'll look in fine clothes and jewels." + +She measured Hull's stature with a critical eye. "She's only about +half as tall as you. How funny you'll look together!" With sudden +soberness and sweetness, "But, seriously, David, I'm proud of your +courage in taking a girl for herself regardless of her surroundings. +So few men would be willing to face the ridicule and the criticism, and +all the social difficulties." She nodded encouragingly. "Go in and +win! You can count on my friendship--for I'm in love with her myself." + +She left him standing dazedly, looking up and down the street as if it +were some strange and pine-beset highway in a foreign land. + +After taking a few steps she returned to the gates and called him: "I +forgot to ask do you want me to regard what you've told me as +confidential? I was thinking of telling Martha and Hugo, and it +occurred to me that you might not like it." + +"Please don't say anything about it," said he with panicky eagerness. +"You see--nothing's settled yet." + +"Oh, she'll accept you." + +"But I haven't even asked her," pleaded Hull. + +"Oh--all right--as you please." + +When she was safely within doors she dropped to a chair and burst out +laughing. It was part of Jane's passion for the sense of triumph over +the male sex to felt that she had made a "perfect jumping jack of a +fool" of David Hull. "And I rather think," said she to herself, "that +he'll soon be back where he belongs." This with a glance at the tall +heels of the slippers on the good-looking feet she was thrusting out +for her own inspection. "How absurd for him to imagine he could do +anything unconventional. Is there any coward anywhere so cowardly as +an American conventional man? No wonder I hate to think of marrying +one of them. But--I suppose I'll have to do it some day. What's a +woman to do? She's GOT to marry." + +So pleased with herself was she that she behaved with unusual +forbearance toward Martha whose conduct of late had been most trying. +Not Martha's sometimes peevish, sometimes plaintive criticisms of her; +these she did not mind. But Martha's way of ordering her own life. +Jane, moving about in the world with a good mind eager to improve, had +got a horror of a woman's going to pieces--and that was what Martha was +doing. + +"I'm losing my looks rapidly," was her constant complaint. As she had +just passed thirty there was, in Jane's opinion, not the smallest +excuse for this. The remedy, the preventive, was obvious--diet and +exercise. But Martha, being lazy and self-indulgent and not +imaginative enough to foresee to what a pass a few years more of +lounging and stuffing would bring her, regarded exercise as unladylike +and dieting as unhealthful. She would not weaken her system by taking +less than was demanded by "nature's infallible guide, the healthy +appetite." She would not give up the venerable and aristocratic +tradition that a lady should ever be reposeful. + +"Another year or so," warned Jane, "and you'll be as steatopygous as +the bride of a Hottentot chief." + +"What does steat--that word mean?" said Martha suspiciously. + +"Look in the dictionary," said Jane. "Its synonyms aren't used by +refined people." + +"I knew it was something insulting," said Martha with an injured sniff. + +The only concessions Martha would make to the latter-day craze of women +for youthfulness were buying a foolish chin-strap of a beauty quack and +consulting him as to whether, if her hair continued to gray, she would +better take to peroxide or to henna. + +Jane had come down that day with a severe lecture on fat and wrinkles +laid out in her mind for energetic delivery to the fast-seeding Martha. +She put off the lecture and allowed the time to be used by Martha in +telling Jane what were her (Jane's) strongest and less strong--not +weaker but less strong, points of physical charm. + +It was cool and beautiful in the shade of the big gardens behind the +old Galland house. Jane, listening to Martha's honest and just +compliments and to the faint murmurs of the city's dusty, sweaty toil, +had a delicious sense of the superiority of her lot--a feeling that +somehow there must be something in the theory of rightfully superior +and inferior classes--that in taking what she had not earned she was +not robbing those who had earned it, as her reason so often asserted, +but was being supported by the toil of others for high purposes of +aesthetic beauty. Anyhow, why heat one's self wrestling with these +problems? + +When she was sure that Victor Dorn must have returned she called him on +the telephone. "Can't you come out to see me to-night?" said she. +"I've something important--something YOU'LL think important--to consult +you about." She felt a refusal forming at the other end of the wire +and hastened to add: "You must know I'd not ask this if I weren't +certain you would be glad you came." + +"Why not drop in here when you're down town?" suggested Victor. + +She wondered why she did not hang up the receiver and forget him. + +But she did not. She murmured, "In due time I'll punish you for this, +sir," and said to him: "There are reasons why it's impossible for me +to go there just now. And you know I can't meet you in a saloon or on +a street corner." + +"I'm not so sure of that," laughed he. "Let me see. I'm very busy. +But I could come for half an hour this afternoon." + +She had planned an evening session, being well aware of the favorable +qualities of air and light after the matter-of-fact sun has withdrawn +his last rays. But she promptly decided to accept what offered. "At +three?" + +"At four," replied he. + +"You haven't forgotten those books?" + +"Books? Oh, yes--yes, I remember. I'll bring them." + +"Thank you so much," said she sweetly. "Good-by." + +And at four she was waiting for him on the front veranda in a house +dress that was--well, it was not quite the proper costume for such an +occasion, but no one else was to see, and he didn't know about that +sort of thing--and the gown gave her charms their best possible +exposure except evening dress, which was out of the question. She had +not long to wait. One of the clocks within hearing had struck and +another was just beginning to strike when she saw him coming toward the +house. She furtively watched him, admiring his walk without quite +knowing why. You may perhaps know the walk that was Victor's--a steady +forward advance of the whole body held firmly, almost rigidly--the walk +of a man leading another to the scaffold, or of a man being led there +in conscious innocence, or of a man ready to go wherever his purposes +may order--ready to go without any heroics or fuss of any kind, but +simply in the course of the day's business. When a man walks like +that, he is worth observing--and it is well to think twice before +obstructing his way. + +That steady, inevitable advance gave Jane Hastings an absurd feeling of +nervousness. She had an impulse to fly, as from some oncoming danger. +Yet what was coming, in fact? A clever young man of the working class, +dressed in garments of the kind his class dressed in on Sunday, and +plebeianly carrying a bundle under his arm. + +"Our clock says you are three seconds late," cried she, laughing and +extending her hand in a friendly, equal way that would have immensely +flattered almost any man of her own class. "But another protests that +you are one second early." + +"I'm one of those fools who waste their time and their nerves by being +punctual," said he. + +He laid the books on the wicker sofa. But instead of sitting Jane +said: "We might be interrupted here. Come to the west veranda." + +There she had him in a leafy solitude--he facing her as she posed in +fascinating grace in a big chair. He looked at her--not the look of a +man at a woman, but the look of a busy person at one who is about to +show cause for having asked for a portion of his valuable time. She +laughed--and laughter was her best gesture. "I can never talk to you if +you pose like that," said she. "Honestly now, is your time so +pricelessly precious?" + +He echoed her laugh and settled himself more at his ease. "What did +you want of me?" he asked. + +"I intend to try to get better hours and better wages for the street +car men," said she. "To do it, I must know just what is right--what I +can hope to get. General talk is foolish. If I go at father I must +have definite proposals to make, with reasons for them. I don't want +him to evade. I would have gotten my information elsewhere, but I +could think of no one but you who might not mislead me." + +She had confidently expected that this carefully thought out scheme +would do the trick. He would admire her, would be interested, would be +drawn into a position where she could enlist him as a constant adviser. +He moved toward the edge of his chair as if about to rise. He said, +pleasantly enough but without a spark of enthusiasm: + +"That's very nice of you, Miss Hastings. But I can't advise +you--beyond saying that if I were you, I shouldn't meddle." + +She--that is, her vanity--was cut to the quick. "Oh!" said she with +irony, "I fancied you wished the laboring men to have a better sort of +life." + +"Yes," said he. "But I'm not in favor of running hysterically about +with a foolish little atomizer in the great stable. You are talking +charity. I am working for justice. It will not really benefit the +working man for the company, at the urging of a sweet and lovely young +Lady Bountiful, to deign graciously to grant a little less slavery to +them. In fact, a well fed, well cared for slave is worse off than one +who's badly treated--worse off because farther from his freedom. The +only things that do our class any good, Miss Hastings, are the things +they COMPEL--compel by their increased intelligence and increased unity +and power. They get what they deserve. They won't deserve more until +they compel more. Gifts won't help--not even gifts from--" His +intensely blue eyes danced--"from such charming white hands so +beautifully manicured." + +She rose with an angry toss of the head. "I didn't ask you here to +annoy me with impertinences about my finger nails." + +He rose, at his ease, good-humored, ready to go. "Then you should have +worn gloves," said he carelessly, "for I've been able to think only of +your finger nails--and to wonder WHAT can be done with hands like that. +Thank you for a pleasant talk." He bowed and smiled. "Good-by. +Oh--Miss Gordon sent you her love." + +"What IS the matter, Mr. Dorn?" cried the girl desperately. "I want +your friendship--your respect. CAN'T I get it? Am I utterly hopeless +in your eyes?" + +A curious kind of color rose in his cheeks. His eyes regarded her with +a mysterious steadiness. "You want neither my respect nor my +friendship," said he. "You want to amuse yourself." He pointed at her +hands. "Those nails betray you." He shrugged his shoulders, laughed, +said as if to a child: "You are a nice girl, Jane Hastings. It's a +pity you weren't brought up to be of some use. But you weren't--and +it's too late." + +Her eyes flashed, her bosom heaved. "WHY do I take these things from +you? WHY do I invite them?" + +"Because you inherit your father's magnificent persistence--and you've +set your heart on the whim of making a fool of me--and you hate to give +up." + +"You wrong me--indeed you do," cried she. "I want to learn--I want to +be of use in the world. I want to have some kind of a real life." + +"Really?" mocked he good-humoredly. + +"Really," said she with all her power of sweet earnestness. + +"Then--cut your nails and go to work. And when you have become a +genuine laborer, you'll begin to try to improve not the condition of +others, but your own. The way to help workers is to abolish the idlers +who hang like a millstone about their necks. You can help only by +abolishing the one idler under your control." + +She stood nearer him, very near him. She threw out her lovely arms in +a gesture of humility. "I will do whatever you say," she said. + +They looked each into the other's eyes. The color fled from her face, +the blood poured into his--wave upon wave, until he was like a man who +has been set on fire by the furious heat of long years of equatorial +sun. He muttered, wheeled about and strode away--in resolute and +relentless flight. She dropped down where he had been sitting and hid +her face in her perfumed hands. + +"I care for him," she moaned, "and he saw and he despises me! How COULD +I--how COULD I!" + +Nevertheless, within a quarter of an hour she was in her dressing room, +standing at the table, eyes carefully avoiding her mirrored eyes--as +she cut her finger nails. + + + +IV + +Jane was mistaken in her guess at the cause of Victor Dorn's agitation +and abrupt flight. If he had any sense whatever of the secret she had +betrayed to him and to herself at the same instant it was wholly +unconscious. He had become panic-stricken and had fled because he, +faced with her exuberance and tempting wealth of physical charm, had +become suddenly conscious of her and of himself in a way as new to him +as if he had been fresh from a monkery where no woman had ever been +seen. Thus far the world had been peopled for him with human beings +without any reference to sex. The phenomena of sex had not interested +him because his mind had been entirely taken up with the other aspects +of life; and he had not yet reached the stage of development where a +thinker grasps the truth that all questions are at bottom questions of +the sex relation, and that, therefore, no question can be settled right +until the sex relations are settled right. + +Jane Hastings was the first girl he had met in his whole life who was +in a position to awaken that side of his nature. And when his brain +suddenly filled with a torrent of mad longings and of sensuous +appreciations of her laces and silk, of her perfume and smoothness and +roundness, of the ecstasy that would come from contact with those warm, +rosy lips--when Victor Dorn found himself all in a flash eager +impetuosity to seize this woman whom he did not approve of, whom he did +not even like, he felt bowed with shame. He would not have believed +himself capable of such a thing. He fled. + +He fled, but she pursued. And when he sat down in the garden behind +his mother's cottage, to work at a table where bees and butterflies had +been his only disturbers, there was this SHE before him--her soft, +shining gaze fascinating his gaze, her useless but lovely white hands +extended tantalizingly toward him. + +As he continued to look at her, his disapproval and dislike melted. "I +was brutally harsh to her," he thought repentantly. + +"She was honestly trying to do the decent thing. How was she to know? +And wasn't I as much wrong as right in advising her not to help the +men?" + +Beyond question, it was theoretically best for the two opposing forces, +capital and labor, to fight their battle to its inevitable end without +interference, without truce, with quarter neither given nor taken on +either side. But practically--wasn't there something to be said for +such humane proposals of that of Jane Hastings? They would put off the +day of right conditions rightly and therefore permanently +founded--conditions in which master and slave or serf or wage-taker +would be no more; but, on the other hand, slaves with shorter hours of +toil and better surroundings could be enlightened more easily. +Perhaps. He was by no means sure; he could not but fear that anything +that tended to make the slave comfortable in his degradation must of +necessity weaken his aversion to degradation. Just as the worst kings +were the best kings because they hastened the fall of monarchy, so the +worst capitalists, the most rapacious, the most rigid enforcers of the +economic laws of a capitalistic society were the best capitalists, were +helping to hasten the day when men would work for what they earned and +would earn what they worked for--when every man's pay envelope would +contain his wages, his full wages, and nothing but his wages. + +Still, where judgment was uncertain, he certainly had been unjust to +that well meaning girl. And was she really so worthless as he had on +first sight adjudged her? There might be exceptions to the rule that a +parasite born and bred can have no other instructor or idea but those +of parasitism. She was honest and earnest, was eager to learn the +truth. She might be put to some use. At any rate he had been unworthy +of his own ideals when he, assuming without question that she was the +usual capitalistic snob with the itch for gratifying vanity by +patronizing the "poor dear lower classes," had been almost insultingly +curt and mocking. + +"What was the matter with me?" he asked himself. "I never acted in +that way before." And then he saw that his brusqueness had been the +cover for fear of of her--fear of the allure of her luxury and her +beauty. In love with her? He knew that he was not. No, his feeling +toward her was merely the crudest form of the tribute of man to +woman--though apparently woman as a rule preferred this form to any +other. + +"I owe her an apology," he said to himself. And so it came to pass +that at three the following afternoon he was once more facing her in +that creeper-walled seclusion whose soft lights were almost equal to +light of gloaming or moon or stars in romantic charm. + +Said he--always direct and simple, whether dealing with man or woman, +with devious person or straight: + +"I've come to beg your pardon for what I said yesterday." + +"You certainly were wild and strange," laughed she. + +"I was supercilious," said he. "And worse than that there is not. +However, as I have apologized, and you have accepted my apology, we +need waste no more time about that. You wished to persuade your father +to----" + +"Just a moment!" interrupted she. "I've a question to ask. WHY did you +treat me--why have you been treating me so--so harshly?" + +"Because I was afraid of you," replied he. "I did not realize it, but +that was the reason." + +"Afraid of ME," said she. "That's very flattering." + +"No," said he, coloring. "In some mysterious way I had been betrayed +into thinking of you as no man ought to think of a woman unless he is +in love with her and she with him. I am ashamed of myself. But I +shall conquer that feeling--or keep away from you.... Do you understand +what the street car situation is?" + +But she was not to be deflected from the main question, now that it had +been brought to the front so unexpectedly and in exactly the way most +favorable to her purposes. "You've made me uneasy," said she. "I +don't in the least understand what you mean. I have wanted, and I +still want, to be friends with you--good friends--just as you and Selma +Gordon are--though of course I couldn't hope to be as close a friend as +she is. I'm too ignorant--too useless." + +He shook his head--with him, a gesture that conveyed the full strength +of negation. "We are on opposite sides of a line across which +friendship is impossible. I could not be your friend without being +false to myself. You couldn't be mine unless you were by some accident +flung into the working class and forced to adopt it as your own. Even +then you'd probably remain what you are. Only a small part of the +working class as yet is at heart of the working class. Most of us +secretly--almost openly--despise the life of work, and dream and hope a +time of fortune that will put us up among the masters and the idlers." +His expressive eyes became eloquent. "The false and shallow ideas that +have been educated into us for ages can't be uprooted in a few brief +years." + +She felt the admiration she did not try to conceal. She saw the proud +and splendid conception of the dignity of labor--of labor as a +blessing, not a curse, as a badge of aristocracy and not of slavery and +shame. "You really believe that, don't you?" she said. "I know it's +true. I say I believe it--who doesn't SAY so? But I don't FEEL it." + +"That's honest," said he heartily. "That's some thing to build on." + +"And I'm going to build!" cried she. "You'll help me--won't you? I +know, it's a great deal to ask. Why should you take the time and the +trouble to bother with one single unimportant person." + +"That's the way I spend my life--in adding one man or one woman to our +party--one at a time. It's slow building, but it's the only kind that +endures. There are twelve hundred of us now--twelve hundred voters, I +mean. Ten years ago there were only three hundred. We'd expand much +more rapidly if it weren't for the constant shifts of population. Our +men are forced to go elsewhere as the pressure of capitalism gets too +strong. And in place of them come raw emigrants, ignorant, full of +dreams of becoming capitalists and exploiters of their fellow men and +idlers. Ambition they call it. Ambition!" He laughed. "What a +vulgar, what a cruel notion of rising in the world! To cease to be +useful, to become a burden to others! ... Did you ever think how many +poor creatures have to toil longer hours, how many children have to go +to the factory instead of to school, in order that there may be two +hundred and seven automobiles privately kept in this town and +seventy-four chauffeurs doing nothing but wait upon their masters? +Money doesn't grow on bushes, you know. Every cent of it has to be +earned by somebody--and earned by MANUAL labor." + +"I must think about that," she said--for the first time as much +interested in what he was saying as in the man himself. No small +triumph for Victor over the mind of a woman dominated, as was Jane +Hastings, by the sex instinct that determines the thoughts and actions +of practically the entire female sex. + +"Yes--think about it," he urged. "You will never see it--or +anything--until you see it for yourself." + +"That's the way your party is built--isn't it?" inquired she. "Of those +who see it for themselves." + +"Only those," replied he. "We want no others." + +"Not even their votes?" said she shrewdly. + +"Not even their votes," he answered. "We've no desire to get the +offices until we get them to keep. And when we shall have conquered +the city, we'll move on to the conquest of the county--then of the +district--then of the state. Our kind of movement is building in every +city now, and in most of the towns and many of the villages. The old +parties are falling to pieces because they stand for the old politics +of the two factions of the upper class quarreling over which of them +should superintend the exploiting of the people. Very few of us +realize what is going on before our very eyes--that we're seeing the +death agonies of one form of civilization and the birth-throes of a +newer form." + +"And what will it be?" asked the girl. + +She had been waiting for some sign of the "crank," the impractical +dreamer. She was confident that this question would reveal the man she +had been warned against--that in answering it he would betray his true +self. But he disappointed and surprised her. + +"How can I tell what it will be?" said he. "I'm not a prophet. All I +can say is I am sure it will be human, full of imperfections, full of +opportunities for improvements--and that I hope it will be better than +what we have now. Probably not much better, but a little--and that +little, however small it may be, will be a gain. Doesn't history show +a slow but steady advance of the idea that the world is for the people +who live in it, a slow retreat of the idea that the world and the +people and all its and their resources are for a favored few of some +kind of an upper class? Yes--I think it is reasonable to hope that out +of the throes will come a freer and a happier and a more intelligent +race." + +Suddenly she burst out, apparently irrelevantly: "But I can't--I +really can't agree with you that everyone ought to do physical labor. +That would drag the world down--yes, I'm sure it would." + +"I guess you haven't thought about that," said he. "Painters do +physical labor--and sculptors--and writers--and all the scientific +men--and the inventors--and--" He laughed at her--"Who doesn't do +physical labor that does anything really useful? Why, you yourself--at +tennis and riding and such things--do heavy physical labor. I've only +to look at your body to see that. But it's of a foolish kind--foolish +and narrowly selfish." + +"I see I'd better not try to argue with you," said she. + +"No--don't argue--with me or with anybody," rejoined he. "Sit down +quietly and think about life--about your life. Think how it is best to +live so that you may get the most out of life--the most substantial +happiness. Don't go on doing the silly customary things simply because +a silly customary world says they are amusing and worth while. +Think--and do--for yourself, Jane Hastings." + +She nodded slowly and thoughtfully. "I'll try to," she said. She +looked at him with the expression of the mind aroused. It was an +expression that often rewarded him after a long straight talk with a +fellow being. She went on: "I probably shan't do what you'd approve. +You see, I've got to be myself--got to live to a certain extent the +kind of a life fate has made for me." + +"You couldn't successfully live any other," said he. + +"But, while it won't be at all what you'd regard as a model life--or +even perhaps useful--it'll be very different--very much better--than it +would have been, if I hadn't met you--Victor Dorn." + +"Oh, I've done nothing," said he. "All I try to do is to encourage my +fellow beings to be themselves. So--live your own life--the life you +can live best--just as you wear the clothes that fit and become you.... +And now--about the street car question. What do you want of me?" + +"Tell me what to say to father." + +He shook his head. "Can't do it," said he. "There's a good place for +you to make a beginning. Put on an old dress and go down town and get +acquainted with the family life of the street-car men. Talk to their +wives and their children. Look into the whole business yourself." + +"But I'm not--not competent to judge," objected she. + +"Well, make yourself competent," advised he. + +"I might get Miss Gordon to go with me," suggested she. + +"You'll learn more thoroughly if you go alone," declared he. + +She hesitated--ventured with a winning smile: "You won't go with +me--just to get me started right?" + +"No," said he. "You've got to learn for yourself--or not at all. If I +go with you, you'll get my point of view, and it will take you so much +the longer to get your own." + +"Perhaps you'd prefer I didn't go." + +"It's not a matter of much importance, one way or the other--except +perhaps to yourself," replied he. + +"Any one individual can do the human race little good by learning the +truth about life. The only benefit is to himself. Don't forget that in +your sweet enthusiasm for doing something noble and generous and +helpful. Don't become a Davy Hull. You know, Davy is on earth for the +benefit of the human race. Ever since he was born he has been taken +care of--supplied with food, clothing, shelter, everything. Yet he +imagines that he is somehow a God-appointed guardian of the people who +have gathered and cooked his food, made his clothing, served him in +every way. It's very funny, that attitude of your class toward mine." + +"They look up to us," said Jane. "You can't blame us for allowing +it--for becoming pleased with ourselves." + +"That's the worst of it--we do look up to you," admitted he. +"But--we're learning better." + +"YOU'VE already learned better--you personally, I mean. I think that +when you compare me, for instance, with a girl like Selma Gordon, you +look down on me." + +"Don't you, yourself, feel that any woman who is self-supporting and +free is your superior?" + +"In some moods, I do," replied Jane. "In other moods, I feel as I was +brought up to feel." + +They talked on and on, she detaining him without seeming to do so. She +felt proud of her adroitness. But the truth was that his stopping on +for nearly two hours was almost altogether a tribute to her physical +charm--though Victor was unconscious of it. When the afternoon was +drawing on toward the time for her father to come, she reluctantly let +him go. She said: + +"But you'll come again?" + +"I can't do that," replied he regretfully. "I could not come to your +father's house and continue free. I must be able to say what I +honestly think, without any restraint." + +"I understand," said she. "And I want you to say and to write what you +believe to be true and right. But--we'll see each other again. I'm +sure we are going to be friends." + +His expression as he bade her good-by told her that she had won his +respect and his liking. She had a suspicion that she did not deserve +either; but she was full of good resolutions, and assured herself she +soon would be what she had pretended--that her pretenses were not +exactly false, only somewhat premature. + +At dinner that evening she said to her father: + +"I think I ought to do something beside enjoy myself. I've decided to +go down among the poor people and see whether I can't help them in some +way." + +"You'd better keep away from that part of town," advised her father. +"They live awful dirty, and you might catch some disease. If you want +to do anything for the poor, send a check to our minister or to the +charity society. There's two kinds of poor--those that are working +hard and saving their money and getting up out of the dirt, and those +that haven't got no spunk or get-up. The first kind don't need help, +and the second don't deserve it." + +"But there are the children, popsy," urged Jane. "The children of the +no-account poor ought to have a chance." + +"I don't reckon there ever was a more shiftless, do-easy pair than my +father and mother," rejoined Martin Hastings. "They were what set me +to jumping." + +She saw that his view was hopelessly narrow--that, while he regarded +himself justly as an extraordinary man, he also, for purposes of +prejudice and selfishness, regarded his own achievements in overcoming +what would have been hopeless handicaps to any but a giant in character +and in physical endurance as an instance of what any one could do if he +would but work. She never argued with him when she wished to carry her +point. She now said: + +"It seems to me that, in our own interest, we ought to do what we can +to make the poor live better. As you say, it's positively dangerous to +go about in the tenement part of town--and those people are always +coming among us. For instance, our servants have relatives living in +Cooper Street, where there's a pest of consumption." + +Old Hastings nodded. "That's part of Davy Hull's reform programme," +said he. "And I'm in favor of it. The city government ought to make +them people clean up." + +"Victor Dorn wants that done, too--doesn't he?" said Jane. + +"No," replied the old man sourly. "He says it's no use to clean up the +slums unless you raise wages--and that then the slum people'd clean +themselves up. The idea of giving those worthless trash more money to +spend for beer and whisky and finery for their fool daughters. Why, +they don't earn what we give 'em now." + +Jane couldn't resist the temptation to say, "I guess the laziest of +them earn more than Davy Hull or I." + +"Because some gets more than they earn ain't a reason why others +should." He grinned. "Maybe you and Davy ought to have less, but +Victor Dorn and his riff-raff oughtn't to be pampered.... Do you want +me to cut your allowance down?" + +She was ready for him. "If you can get as satisfactory a housekeeper +for less, you're a fool to overpay the one you have." + +The old man was delighted. "I've been cheating you," said he. "I'll +double your pay." + +"You're doing it just in time to stop a strike," laughed the girl. + +After a not unknown fashion she was most obedient to her father when +his commands happened to coincide with her own inclinations. + +Her ardor for an excursion into the slums and the tenements died almost +with Victor Dorn's departure. Her father's reasons for forbidding her +to go did not impress her as convincing, but she felt that she owed it +to him to respect his wishes. Anyhow, what could she find out that she +did not know already? Yes, Dorn and her father were right in the +conclusion each reached by a different road. She would do well not to +meddle where she could not possibly accomplish any good. She could +question the servants and could get from them all the facts she needed +for urging her father at least to cut down the hours of labor. + +The more she thought about Victor Dorn the more uneasy she became. She +had made more progress with him than she had hoped to make in so short +a time. But she had made it at an unexpected cost. If she had +softened him, he had established a disquieting influence over her. She +was not sure, but she was afraid, that he was stronger than she--that, +if she persisted in her whim, she would soon be liking him entirely too +well for her own comfort. Except as a pastime, Victor Dorn did not fit +into her scheme of life. If she continued to see him, to yield to the +delight of his magnetic voice, of his fresh and original mind, of his +energetic and dominating personality, might he not become +aroused--begin to assert power over her, compel her to--to--she could +not imagine what; only, it was foolish to deny that he was a dangerous +man. "If I've got good sense," decided she, "I'll let him alone. I've +nothing to gain and everything to lose." + +Her motor--the one her father had ordered as a birthday present--came +the next day; and on the following day two girl friends from +Cincinnati arrived for a long visit. So, Jane Hastings had the help +she felt she perhaps needed in resisting the temptings of her whim. + +To aid her in giving her friends a good time she impressed Davy Hull, +in spite of his protests that his political work made social fooling +about impossible. The truth was that the reform movement, of which he +was one of the figureheads, was being organized by far more skillful +and expert hands than his--and for purposes of which he had no notion. +So, he really had all the time in the world to look after Ellen +Clearwater and Josie Arthur, and to pose as a serious man bent upon +doing his duty as an upper class person of leisure. All that the +reform machine wished of him was to talk and to pose--and to ride on +the show seat of the pretty, new political wagon. + +The new movement had not yet been "sprung" upon the public. It was +still an open secret among the young men of the "better element" in the +Lincoln, the Jefferson and the University clubs. + +Money was being subscribed liberally by persons of good family who +hoped for political preferment and could not get it from the old +parties, and by corporations tired of being "blackmailed" by Kelly and +House, and desirous of getting into office men who would give them what +they wanted because it was for the public good that they should not be +hampered in any way. With plenty of money an excellent machine could +be built and set to running. Also, there was talk of a fusion with the +Democratic machine, House to order the wholesale indorsement of the +reform ticket in exchange for a few minor places. + +When the excitement among the young gentlemen over the approaching +moral regeneration of Remsen City politics was at the boiling point +Victor Dorn sent for David Hull--asked him to come to the Baker Avenue +cafe', which was the social headquarters of Dorn's Workingmen's League. +As Hull was rather counting on Dorn's support, or at least neutrality, +in the approaching contest, he accepted promptly. As he entered the +cafe' he saw Dorn seated at a table in a far corner listening calmly to +a man who was obviously angrily in earnest. At second glance he +recognized Tony Rivers, one of Dick Kelly's shrewdest lieutenants and a +labor leader of great influence in the unions of factory workers. +Among those in "the know" it was understood that Rivers could come +nearer to delivering the labor vote than any man in Remsen City. He +knew whom to corrupt with bribes and whom to entrap by subtle appeals +to ignorant prejudice. As a large part of his herd was intensely +Catholic, Rivers was a devout Catholic. To quote his own phrase, used +in a company on whose discretion he could count, "Many's the pair of +pants I've worn out doing the stations of the Cross." In fact, Rivers +had been brought up a Presbyterian, and under the name of Blake--his +correct name--had "done a stretch" in Joliet for picking pockets. + +Dorn caught sight of Davy Hull, hanging uncertainly in the offing. He +rose at once, said a few words in a quiet, emphatic way to +Rivers--words of conclusion and dismissal--and advanced to meet Hull. + +"I don't want to interrupt. I can wait," said Hull, who saw Rivers' +angry scowl at him. He did not wish to offend the great labor leader. + +"That fellow pushed himself on me," said Dorn. "I've nothing to say to +him." + +"Tony Rivers--wasn't it?" said Davy as they seated themselves at +another table. + +"I'm going to expose him in next week's New Day," replied Victor. +"When I sent him a copy of the article for his corrections, if he could +make any, he came threatening." + +"I've heard he's a dangerous man," said Davy. + +"He'll not be so dangerous after Saturday," replied Victor. "One by one +I'm putting the labor agents of your friends out of business. The best +ones--the chaps like Rivers--are hard to catch. And if I should attack +one of them before I had him dead to rights, I'd only strengthen him." + +"You think you can destroy Rivers' influence?" said Davy incredulously. + +"If I were not sure of it I'd not publish a line," said Victor. + +"But to get to the subject I wish to talk to you about. You are to be +the reform candidate for Mayor in the fall?" + +Davy looked important and self-conscious. "There has been some talk +of----" he began. + +"I've sent for you to ask you to withdraw from the movement, Hull," +interrupted Victor. + +Hull smiled. "And I've come to ask you to support it," said Hull. +"We'll win, anyhow. But I'd like to see all the forces against +corruption united in this campaign. I am even urging my people to put +one or two of your men on the ticket." + +"None of us would accept," said Victor. "That isn't our kind of +politics. We'll take nothing until we get everything.... What do you +know about this movement you're lending your name to?" + +"I organized it," said Hull proudly. + +"Pardon me--Dick Kelly organized it," replied Victor. "They're simply +using you, Davy, to play their rotten game. Kelly knew he was certain +to be beaten this fall. He doesn't care especially for that, because +House and his gang are just as much Kelly as Kelly himself. But he's +alarmed about the judgeship." + +Davy Hull reddened, though he tried hard to look indifferent. + +"He's given up hope of pulling through the scoundrel who's on the bench +now. He knows that our man would be elected, though his tool had the +support of the Republicans, the Democrats and the new reform crowd." + +Dorn had been watching Hull's embarrassed face keenly. He now said: +"You understand, I see, why Judge Freilig changed his mind and decided +that he must stop devoting himself to the public and think of the +welfare of his family and resume the practice of the law?" + +"Judge Freilig is an honorable gentleman," said Davy with much dignity. +"I'm sorry, Dorn, that you listen to the lies of demagogues." + +"If Freilig had persisted in running," said Victor, "I should have +published the list of stocks and bonds of corporations benefiting by +his decisions that his brother and his father have come into possession +of during his two terms on the bench. Many of our judges are simply +mentally crooked. But Freilig is a bribe taker. He probably believes +his decisions are just. All you fellows believe that upper-class rule +is really best for the people----" + +"And so it is," said Davy. "And you, an educated man, know it." + +"I'll not argue that now," said Victor. "As I was saying, while +Freilig decides for what he honestly thinks is right, he also feels he +is entitled to a share of the substantial benefits. Most of the judges, +after serving the upper class faithfully for years, retire to an old +age of comparative poverty. Freilig thinks that is foolish." + +"I suppose you agree with him," said Hull sarcastically. + +"I sympathize with him," said Victor. "He retires with reputation +unstained and with plenty of money. If I should publish the truth +about him, would he lose a single one of his friends? You know he +wouldn't. That isn't the way the world is run at present." + +"No doubt it would be run much better if your crowd were in charge," +sneered Hull. + +"On the contrary, much worse," replied Victor unruffled. "But we're +educating ourselves so that, when our time comes, we'll not do so +badly." + +"You'll have plenty of time for education," said Davy. + +"Plenty," said Victor. "But why are you angry? Because you realize +now that your reform candidate for judge is of Dick Kelly's selecting?" + +"Kelly didn't propose Hugo Galland," cried Davy hotly. "I proposed him +myself." + +"Was his the first name you proposed?" + +Something in Dorn's tone made Davy feel that it would be unwise to +yield to the impulse to tell a lie--for the highly moral purpose of +silencing this agitator and demagogue. + +"You will remember," pursued Victor, "that Galland was the sixth or +seventh name you proposed--and that Joe House rejected the others. He +did it, after consulting with Kelly. You recall--don't you?--that +every time you brought him a name he took time to consider?" + +"How do you know so much about all this?" cried Davy, his tone +suggesting that Victor was wholly mistaken, but his manner betraying +that he knew Victor was right. + +"Oh, politicians are human," replied Dorn. "And the human race is +loose-mouthed. I saw years ago that if I was to build my party I must +have full and accurate information as to all that was going on. I made +my plans accordingly." + +"Galland is an honest man--rich--above suspicion--above corruption--an +ideal candidate," said Davy. + +"He is a corporation owner, a corporation lawyer--and a fool," said +Victor. "As I've told you, all Dick Kelly's interest in this fall's +local election is that judgeship." + +"Galland is my man. I want to see him elected. If Kelly's for +Galland, so much the better. Then we're sure of electing him--of +getting the right sort of a man on the bench." + +"I'm not here to argue with you about politics, Davy," said Victor. "I +brought you here because I like you--believe in your honesty--and don't +want to see you humiliated. I'm giving you a chance to save yourself ." + +"From what?" inquired Hull, not so valiant as he pretended to be. + +"From the ridicule and disgrace that will cover this reform movement, +if you persist in it." + +Hull burst out laughing. "Of all the damned impudence!" he exclaimed. +"Dorn, I think you've gone crazy ." + +"You can't irritate me, Hull. I've been giving you the benefit of the +doubt. I think you are falling into the commonest kind of error--doing +evil and winking at evil in order that a good end may be gained. Now, +listen. What are the things you reformers are counting on to get you +votes this fall." + +Davy maintained a haughty silence. + +"The traction scandals, the gas scandals and the paving scandals--isn't +that it?" + +"Of course," said Davy. + +"Then--why have the gas crowd, the traction crowd and the paving crowd +each contributed twenty-five thousand dollars to your campaign fund?" + +Hull stared at Victor Dorn in amazement. "Who told you that lie?" he +blustered. + +Dorn looked at him sadly. "Then you knew? I hoped you didn't, Hull. +But--now that you're facing the situation squarely, don't you see that +you're being made a fool of? Would those people put up for your +election if they weren't SURE you and your crowd were THEIR crowd?" + +"They'll find out!" cried Hull. + +"You'll find out, you mean," replied Victor. "I see your whole +programme, Davy. They'll put you in, and they'll say, 'Let us alone +and we'll make you governor of the State. Annoy us, and you'll have no +political future.' And you'll say to yourself, 'The wise thing for me +to do is to wait until I'm governor before I begin to serve the people. +THEN I can really do something.' And so, you'll be THEIR mayor--and +afterward THEIR governor--because they'll hold out another inducement. +Anyhow, by that time you'll be so completely theirs that you'll have no +hope of a career except through them." + +After reading how some famous oration wrought upon its audience we turn +to it and wonder that such tempests of emotion could have been produced +by such simple, perhaps almost commonplace words. The key to the +mystery is usually a magic quality in the tone of the orator, evoking +before its hypnotized hearers a series of vivid pictures, just as the +notes of a violin, with no aid from words or even from musical form +seem to materialize into visions. + +This uncommon yet by no means rare power was in Victor Dorn's voice, +and explained his extraordinary influence over people of all kinds and +classes; it wove a spell that enmeshed even those who disliked him for +his detestable views. Davy Hull, listening to Victor's simple recital +of his prospective career, was so wrought upon that he sat staring +before him in a kind of terror. + +"Davy," said Victor gently, "you're at the parting of the ways. The +time for honest halfway reformers--for political amateurs has passed. +'Under which king, Bezonian? Speak or die!'--that's the situation +today." + +And Hull knew that it was so. "What do you propose, Dorn?" he said. +"I want to do what's right--what's best for the people." + +"Don't worry about the people, Hull," said Victor. + +"Upper classes come and pass, but the people remain--bigger and +stronger and more aggressive with every century. And they dictate +language and art, and politics and religion--what we shall all eat and +wear and think and do. Only what they approve, only that yoke even +which they themselves accept, has any chance of enduring. Don't worry +about the people, Davy. Worry about yourself." + +"I admit," said Hull, "that I don't like a lot of things about the--the +forces I find I've got to use in order to carry through my plans. I +admit that even the sincere young fellows I've grouped together to head +this movement are narrow--supercilious--self-satisfied--that they +irritate me and are not trustworthy. But I feel that, if I once get +the office, I'll be strong enough to put my plans through." Nervously, +"I'm giving you my full confidence--as I've given it to no one else." + +"You've told me nothing I didn't know already," said Victor. + +"I've got to choose between this reform party and your party," +continued Hull. "That is, I've got no choice. For, candidly, I've no +confidence in the working class. It's too ignorant to do the ruling. +It's too credulous to build on--for its credulity makes it fickle. And +I believe in the better class, too. It may be sordid and greedy and +tyrannical, but by appealing to its good instincts--and to its fear of +the money kings and the monopolists, something good can be got through +it." + +"If you want to get office," said Dorn, "you're right. But if you want +to BE somebody, if you want to develop yourself, to have the joy of +being utterly unafraid in speech and in action--why, come with us." + +After a pause Hull said, "I'd like to do it. I'd like to help you." + +Victor laid his hand on Davy's arm. "Get it straight, Davy," he said. +"You can't help us. We don't need you. It's you that needs us. We'll +make an honest man of you--instead of a trimming politician, trying to +say or to do something more or less honest once in a while and winking +at or abetting crookedness most of the time." + +"I've done nothing, and I'll do nothing, to be ashamed of," protested +Hull. + +"You are not ashamed of the way your movement is financed?" + +Davy moved uncomfortably. "The money's ours now," said he. "They gave +it unconditionally." + +But he could not meet Victor's eyes. Victor said: "They paid a +hundred thousand dollars for a judgeship and for a blanket mortgage on +your party. And if you should win, you'd find you could do little +showy things that were of no value, but nothing that would seriously +disturb a single leech sucking the blood of this community." + +"I don't agree with you," said Davy. He roused himself into anger--his +only remaining refuge. "Your prejudices blind you to all the +means--the PRACTICAL means--of doing good, Dorn. I've listened +patiently to you because I respect your sincerity. But I'm not going +to waste my life in mere criticism. I'm going to DO something." + +An expression of profound sadness came into Victor's face. "Don't +decide now," he said. "Think it over. Remember what I've told you +about what we'll be compelled to do if you launch this party." + +Hull was tempted to burst out violently. Was not this swollen-headed +upstart trying to intimidate him by threats? But his strong instinct +for prudence persuaded him to conceal his resentment. "Why the devil +should you attack US?" he demanded. + +"Surely we're nearer your kind of thing than the old parties--and we, +too, are against them--their rotten machines." + +"We purpose to keep the issue clear in this town," replied Victor. +"So, we can't allow a party to grow up that PRETENDS to be just as good +as ours but is really a cover behind which the old parties we've been +battering to pieces can reorganize." + +"That is, you'll tolerate in this market no brand of honest politics +but your own?" + +"If you wish to put it that way," replied Victor coolly. + +"I suppose you'd rather see Kelly or House win?" + +"We'll see that House does win," replied Victor. "When we have shot +your movement full of holes and sunk it, House will put up a straight +Democratic ticket, and it will win." + +"And House means Kelly--and Kelly means corruption rampant." + +"And corruption rampant means further and much needed education in the +school of hard experience for the voters," said Dorn. "And the more +education, the larger our party and the quicker its triumph." + +Hull laughed angrily. "Talk about low self-seeking! Talk about rotten +practical politics!" + +But Dorn held his good humor of the man who has the power and knows it. +"Think it over, Davy," counseled he. "You'll see you've got to come +with us or join Kelly. For your own sake I'd like to see you with us. +For the party's sake you'd better be with Kelly, for you're not really +a workingman, and our fellows would be uneasy about you for a long +time. You see, we've had experience of rich young men whose hearts +beat for the wrongs of the working class--and that experience has not +been fortunate." + +"Before you definitely decide to break with the decent element of the +better class, Victor, I want YOU to think it over," said Davy. "We--I, +myself--have befriended you more than once. But for a few of us who +still have hope that demagoguery will die of itself, your paper would +have been suppressed long ago." + +Victor laughed. "I wish they would suppress it," said he. "The result +would give the 'better element' in this town a very bad quarter of an +hour, at least." He rose. "We've both said all we've got to say to +each other. I see I've done no good. I feared it would be so." He +was looking into Hull's eyes--into his very soul. "When we meet again, +you will probably be my open and bitter enemy. It's a pity. It makes +me sad. Good-by, and--do think it over, Davy." + +Dorn moved rapidly away. Hull looked after him in surprise. At first +blush he was astonished that Dorn should care so much about him as this +curious interview and his emotion at its end indicated. But on +reflecting his astonishment disappeared, and he took the view that Dorn +was simply impressed by his personality and by his ability--was perhaps +craftily trying to disarm him and to destroy his political movement +which was threatening to destroy the Workingmen's League. "A very +shrewd chap is Dorn," thought Davy--why do we always generously concede +at least acumen to those we suspect of having a good opinion of us?--"A +VERY shrewd chap. It's unfortunate he's cursed with that miserable +envy of those better born and better off than he is." + +Davy spent the early evening at the University Club, where he was an +important figure. Later on he went to a dance at Mrs. Venable's--and +there he was indeed a lion, as an unmarried man with money cannot but +be in a company of ladies--for money to a lady is what soil and sun and +rain are to a flower--is that without which she must cease to exist. +But still later, when he was alone in bed--perhaps with the supper he +ate at Mrs. Venable's not sitting as lightly as comfort required--the +things Victor Dorn had said came trailing drearily through his mind. +What kind of an article would Dorn print? Those facts about the +campaign fund certainly would look badly in cold type--especially if +Dorn had the proofs. And Hugo Galland-- Beyond question the mere list +of the corporations in which Hugo was director or large stockholder +would make him absurd as a judge, sitting in that district. And Hugo +the son-in-law of the most offensive capitalist in that section of the +State! And the deal with House, endorsed by Kelly--how nasty that +would look, IF Victor had the proofs. IF Victor had the proofs. But +had he? + +"I MUST have a talk with Kelly," said Davy, aloud. + +The words startled him--not his voice suddenly sounding in the profound +stillness of his bedroom, but the words themselves. It was his first +admission to himself of the vicious truth he had known from the outset +and had been pretending to himself that he did not know--the truth that +his reform movement was a fraud contrived by Dick Kelly to further the +interests of the company of financiers and the gang of +politico-criminal thugs who owned the party machinery. It is a nice +question whether a man is ever allowed to go in HONEST self-deception +decisively far along a wrong road. However this may be, certain it is +that David Hull, reformer, was not so allowed. And he was glad of the +darkness that hid him at least physically from himself as he strove to +convince himself that, if he was doing wrong, it was from the highest +motives and for the noblest purposes and would result in the public +good--and not merely in fame and office for David Hull. + +The struggle ended as struggles usually end in the famous arena of +moral sham battles called conscience; and toward the middle of the +following morning Davy, at peace with himself and prepared to make any +sacrifice of personal squeamishness or moral idealism for the sake of +the public good, sought out Dick Kelly. + +Kelly's original headquarters had, of course, been the doggery in and +through which he had established himself as a political power. As his +power grew and his relations with more respectable elements of society +extended he shifted to a saloon and beer garden kept by a reputable +German and frequented by all kinds of people--a place where his friends +of the avowedly criminal class and his newer friends of the class that +does nothing legally criminal, except in emergencies, would feel +equally at ease. He retained ownership of the doggery, but took his +name down and put up that of his barkeeper. When he won his first big +political fight and took charge of the public affairs of Remsen City +and made an arrangement with Joe House where--under Remsen City, +whenever it wearied or sickened of Kelly, could take instead Kelly +disguised as Joe House--when he thus became a full blown boss he +established a secondary headquarters in addition to that at Herrmann's +Garden. Every morning at ten o'clock he took his stand in the main +corridor of the City Hall, really a thoroughfare and short cut for the +busiest part of town. With a cigar in his mouth he stood there for an +hour or so, holding court, making appointments, attending to all sorts +of political business. + +Presently his importance and his ideas of etiquette expanded to such an +extent that he had to establish the Blaine Club. Joe House's Tilden +Club was established two years later, in imitation of Kelly. If you +had very private and important business with Kelly--business of the +kind of which the public must get no inkling, you made--preferably by +telephone--an appointment to meet him in his real estate offices in the +Hastings Building--a suite with entrances and exits into three +separated corridors. If you wished to see him about ordinary matters +and were a person who could "confer" with Kelly without its causing +talk you met him at the Blaine Club. If you wished to cultivate him, +to pay court to him, you saw him at Herrmann's--or in the general rooms +of the club. If you were a busy man and had time only to exchange +greetings with him--to "keep in touch"--you passed through the City +Hall now and then at his hour. Some bosses soon grow too proud for the +vulgar democracy of such a public stand; but Kelly, partly through +shrewdness, partly through inclination, clung to the City Hall stand +and encouraged the humblest citizens to seek him there and tell him the +news or ask his aid or his advice. + +It was at the City Hall that Davy Hull sought him, and found him. + +Twice he walked briskly to the boss; the third time he went by slowly. +Kelly, who saw everything, had known from the first glance at Hull's +grave, anxious face, that the young leader of the "holy boys" was there +to see him. But he ignored Davy until Davy addressed him directly. + +"Howdy, Mr. Hull!" said he, observing the young man with eyes that +twinkled cynically. "What's the good word?" + +"I want to have a little talk with you," Davy blurted out. "Where could +I see you?" + +"Here I am," said Kelly. "Talk away." + +"Couldn't I see you at some--some place where we'd not be interrupted? +I saw Victor Dorn yesterday, and he said some things that I think you +ought to know about." + +"I do know about 'em," replied Kelly. + +"Are you sure? I mean his threats to--to----" + +As Davy paused in an embarrassed search for a word that would not hurt +his own but recently soothed conscience, Kelly laughed. "To expose you +holy boys?" inquired he. "To upset the nice moral campaign you and Joe +House have laid out? Yes, I know all about Mr. Victor Dorn. But--Joe +House is the man you want to see. You boys are trying to do me +up--trying to break up the party. You can't expect ME to help you. +I've got great respect for you personally, Mr. Hull. Your father--he +was a fine old Republican wheel-horse. He stood by the party through +thick and thin--and the party stood by him. So, I respect his +son--personally. But politically--that's another matter. Politically I +respect straight organization men of either party, but I've got no use +for amateurs and reformers. So--go to Joe House." All this in perfect +good humor, and in a tone of banter that might have ruffled a man with +a keener sense of humor than Davy's. + +Davy was red to his eyes, not because Kelly was laughing at him, but +because he stood convicted of such a stupid political blunder as coming +direct to Kelly when obviously he should have gone to Kelly's secret +partner. "Dorn means to attack us all--Republicans, Democrats and +Citizens' Alliance," stammered Davy, trying to justify himself. + +Kelly shifted his cigar and shrugged his shoulders. + +"Don't worry about his attacks on me--on US," said he. "We're used to +being attacked. We haven't got no reputation for superior virtue to +lose." + +"But he says he can prove that our whole campaign is simply a deal +between you and House and me to fool the people and elect a bad judge." + +"So I've heard," said Kelly. "But what of it? You know it ain't so." + +"No, I don't, Mr. Kelly," replied Hull, desperately. "On the contrary, +I think it is so. And I may add I think we are justified in making +such a deal, when that's the only way to save the community from Victor +Dorn and his crowd of--of anarchists." + +Kelly looked at him silently with amused eyes. + +"House can't do anything," pursued Davy. "Maybe YOU can. So I came +straight to you." + +"I'm glad you're getting a little political sense, my boy," said Kelly. +"Perhaps you're beginning to see that a politician has got to be +practical--that it's the organizations that keeps this city from being +the prey to Victor Dorns." + +"I see that," said Davy. "I'm willing to admit that I've misjudged +you, Mr. Kelly--that the better classes owe you a heavy debt--and that +you are one of the men we've got to rely on chiefly to stem the tide of +anarchy that's rising--the attack on the propertied classes--the +intelligent classes." + +"I see your eyes are being opened, my boy," said Kelly in a kindly tone +that showed how deeply he appreciated this unexpected recognition of +his own notion of his mission. "You young silk stocking fellows up at +the University Club, and the Lincoln and the Jefferson, have been +indulging in a lot of loose talk against the fellows that do the hard +work in politics--the fellows that helped your fathers to make fortunes +and that are helping you boys to keep 'em. If I didn't have a pretty +level head on me, I'd take my hands off and give Dorn and his gang a +chance at you. I tell you, when you fool with that reform nonsense, you +play with fire in a powder mill." + +"But I--I had an idea that you wanted me to go ahead," said Davy. + +"Not the way you started last spring," replied Kelly. "Not the way +you'd 'a gone if I hadn't taken hold. I've been saving you in spite of +yourselves. Thanks to me, your party's on a sound, conservative basis +and won't do any harm and may do some good in teaching a lesson to +those of our boys that've been going a little too far. It ain't good +for an organization to win always." + +"Victor Dorn seemed to be sure--absolutely sure," said Hull. "And he's +pretty shrewd at politics--isn't he?" + +"Don't worry about him, I tell you," replied Kelly. + +The sudden hardening of his voice and of his never notably soft face +was tribute stronger than any words to Dorn's ability as a politician, +to his power as an antagonist. Davy felt a sinister intent--and he +knew that Dick Kelly had risen because he would stop at nothing. He +was as eager to get away from the boss as the boss was to be rid of +him. The intrusion of a henchman, to whom Kelly had no doubt signaled, +gave him the excuse. As soon as he had turned from the City Hall into +Morton Street he slackened to as slow a walk as his length of leg would +permit. Moving along, absorbed in uncomfortable thoughts, he startled +violently when he heard Selma Gordon's voice: + +"How d'you do, Mr. Hull? I was hoping I'd see you to-day." + +She was standing before him--the same fascinating embodiment of life +and health and untamed energy; the direct, honest glance. + +"I want to talk to you," she went on, "and I can't, walking beside you. +You're far too tall. Come into the park and we'll sit on that bench +under the big maple." + +He had mechanically lifted his hat, but he had not spoken. He did not +find words until they were seated side by side, and then all he could +say was: + +"I'm very glad to see you again--very glad, indeed." + +In fact, he was the reverse of glad, for he was afraid of her, afraid +of himself when under the spell of her presence. He who prided himself +on his self-control, he could not account for the effect this girl had +upon him. As he sat there beside her the impulse Jane Hastings had so +adroitly checked came surging back. He had believed, had hoped it was +gone for good and all. He found that in its mysterious hiding place it +had been gaining strength. Quite clearly he saw how absurd was the +idea of making this girl his wife--he tall and she not much above the +bend of his elbow; he conventional, and she the incarnation of +passionate revolt against the restraints of class and form and custom +which he not only conformed to but religiously believed in. And she +set stirring in him all kinds of vague, wild longings to run amuck +socially and politically--longings that, if indulged, would ruin him +for any career worthy of the name. + +He stood up. "I must go--I really must," he said, confusedly. + +She laid her small, strong hand on his arm--a natural, friendly gesture +with her, and giving no suggestion of familiarity. Even as she was +saying, "Please--only a moment," he dropped back to the seat. + +"Well--what is it?" he said abruptly, his gaze resolutely away from her +face. + +"Victor was telling me this morning about his talk with you," she said +in her rapid, energetic way. "He was depressed because he had failed. +But I felt sure--I feel sure--that he hasn't. In our talk the other +day, Mr. Hull, I got a clear idea of your character. A woman +understands better. And I know that, after Victor told you the plain +truth about the situation, you couldn't go on." + +David looked round rather wildly, swallowed hard several times, said +hoarsely: "I won't, if you'll marry me." + +But for a slight change of expression or of color Davy would have +thought she had not heard--or perhaps that he had imagined he was +uttering the words that forced themselves to his lips in spite of his +efforts to suppress them. For she went on in the same impetuous, +friendly way: + +"It seemed to me that you have an instinct for the right that's unusual +in men of your class. At least, I think it's unusual. I confess I've +not known any man of your class except you--and I know you very +slightly. It was I that persuaded Victor to go to you. He believes +that a man's class feeling controls him--makes his moral sense--compels +his actions. But I thought you were an exception--and he yielded after +I urged him a while." + +"I don't know WHAT I am," said Hull gloomily. "I think I want to do +right. But--what is right? Not theoretical right, but the practical, +workable thing?" + +"That's true," conceded Selma. "We can't always be certain what's +right. But can't we always know what's wrong? And, Mr. Hull, it is +wrong--altogether wrong--and YOU know it's wrong--to lend your name and +your influence and your reputation to that crowd. They'd let you do a +little good--why? To make their professions of reform seem plausible. +To fool the people into trusting them again. And under cover of the +little good you were showily doing, how much mischief they'd do! If +you'll go back over the history of this town--of any town--of any +country--you'll find that most of the wicked things--the things that +pile the burdens on the shoulders of the poor--the masses--most of the +wicked things have been done under cover of just such men as you, used +as figureheads." + +"But I want to build up a new party--a party of honest men, honestly +led," said Davy. + +"Led by your sort of young men? I mean young men of your class. Led by +young lawyers and merchants and young fellows living on inherited +incomes? Don't you see that's impossible," cried Selma. "They are all +living off the labor of others. Their whole idea of life is exploiting +the masses--is reaping where they have not sown or reaping not only +what they've sown but also what others have sown--for they couldn't buy +luxury and all the so-called refinements of life for themselves and +their idle families merely with what they themselves could earn. How +can you build up a really HONEST party with such men? They may mean +well. They no doubt are honest, up to a certain point. But they will +side with their class, in every crisis. And their class is the +exploiting class." + +"I don't agree with you," said Davy. "You are not fair to us." + +"How!" demanded Selma. + +"I couldn't argue with you," replied Hull. "All I'll say is that +you've seen only the one side--only the side of the working class." + +"That toils without ceasing--its men, its women, its children--" said +the girl with heaving bosom and flashing eyes--"only to have most of +what it earns filched away from it by your class to waste in foolish +luxury!" + +"And whose fault is that?" pleaded Hull. + +"The fault of my class," replied she. "Their ignorance, their +stupidity--yes, and their foolish cunning that overreaches itself. For +they tolerate the abuses of the present system because each man--at +least, each man of the ones who think themselves 'smart'--imagines that +the day is coming when he can escape from the working class and gain +the ranks of the despoilers." + +"And you ask ME to come into the party of those people!" scoffed Davy. + +"Yes, Mr. Hull," said she--and until then he had not appreciated how +lovely her voice was. "Yes--that is the party for you--for all honest, +sincere men who want to have their own respect through and through. To +teach those people--to lead them right--to be truthful and just with +them--that is the life worth while." + +"But they won't learn. They won't be led right. They are as +ungrateful as they are foolish. If they weren't, men like me trying to +make a decent career wouldn't have to compromise with the Kellys and +the Houses and their masters. What are Kelly and House but leaders of +your class? And they lead ten to Victor Dorn's one. Why, any day +Dorn's followers may turn on him--and you know it." + +"And what of that?" cried Selma. "He's not working to be their leader, +but to do what he thinks is right, regardless of consequences. Why is +he a happy man, as happiness goes? Why has he gone on his way steadily +all these years, never minding setbacks and failures and defeats and +dangers? I needn't tell you why." + +"No," said Hull, powerfully moved by her earnestness. "I understand." + +"The finest sentence that ever fell from human lips," Selma went on, +"was 'Father, forgive them; they know not what they do.' Forgive +them--forgive us all--for when we go astray it is because we are in the +dark. And I want you to come with us, Mr. Hull, and help to make it a +little less dark. At least, you will then be looking toward the +light--and every one turned in that direction counts." + +After a long pause, Hull said: + +"Miss Gordon, may I ask you a very personal question?" + +"Yes," said she. + +"Are you in love with Victor Dorn?" + +Selma laughed merrily. "Jane Hastings had that same curiosity," said +she. "I'll answer you as I answered her--though she didn't ask me +quite so directly. No, I am not in love with him. We are too busy to +bother about those things. We have too much to do to think about +ourselves." + +"Then--there is no reason why I should not ask you to be my wife--why I +should not hope--and try?" + +She looked at him with a peculiar smile. "Yes, there is a very good +reason. I do not love you, and I shall not love you. I shall not have +time for that sort of thing." + +"Don't you believe in love?" + +"I don't believe in much else," said she. "But--not the kind of love +you offer me." + +"How do you know?" cried he. "I have not told you yet how I feel +toward you. I have not----" + +"Oh, yes, you have," interrupted she. "This is the second--no, the +third time you have seen me. So, the love you offer me can only be of +a kind it is not in the least flattering to a woman to inspire. You +needn't apologize," she went on, laughingly. "I've no doubt you mean +well. You simply don't understand me--my sort of woman." + +"It's you that don't understand, Selma," cried he. "You don't realize +how wonderful you are--how much you reveal of yourself at once. I was +all but engaged to another woman when I saw you. I've been fighting +against my love for you--fighting against the truth that suddenly came +to me that you were the only woman I had ever seen who appealed to and +aroused and made strong all that is brave and honest in me. Selma, I +need you. I am not infatuated. I am clearer-headed than I ever was in +my life. I need you. You can make a man of me." + +She was regarding him with a friendly and even tender sympathy. "I +understand now," she said. "I thought it was simply the ordinary +outburst of passion. But I see that it was the result of your struggle +with yourself about which road to take in making a career." + +If she had not been absorbed in developing her theory she might have +seen that Davy was not altogether satisfied with this analysis of his +feelings. But he deemed it wise to hold his peace. + +"You do need some one--some woman," she went on. "And I am anxious to +help you all I can. I couldn't help you by marrying you. To me +marriage means----" She checked herself abruptly. "No matter. I can +help you, I think, as a friend. But if you wish to marry, you should +take some one in your own class--some one who's in sympathy with you. +Then you and she could work it out together--could help each other. +You see, I don't need you--and there's nothing in one-sided +marriages.... No, you couldn't give me anything I need, so far as I +can see." + +"I believe that's true," said Davy miserably. + +She reflected, then continued: "But there's Jane Hastings. Why not +marry her? She is having the same sort of struggle with herself. You +and she could help each other. And you're, both of you, fine +characters. I like each of you for exactly the same reasons.... +Yes--Jane needs you, and you need her." She looked at him with her +sweet, frank smile like a breeze straight from the sweep of a vast +plateau. "Why, it's so obvious that I wonder you and she haven't +become engaged long ago. You ARE fond of her, aren't you?" + +"Oh, Selma," cried Davy, "I LOVE you. I want YOU." + +She shook her head with a quaint, fascinating expression of +positiveness. "Now, my friend," said she, "drop that fancy. It isn't +sensible. And it threatens to become silly." Her smile suddenly +expanded into a laugh. "The idea of you and me married--of ME married +to YOU! I'd drive you crazy. No, I shouldn't stay long enough for +that. I'd be of on the wings of the wind to the other end of the earth +as soon as you tried to put a halter on me." + +He did not join in her laugh. She rose. "You will think again before +you go in with those people--won't you, David?" she said, sober and +earnest. + +"I don't care what becomes of me," he said boyishly. + +"But _I_ do," she said. "I want to see you the man you can be." + +"Then--marry me," he cried. + +Her eyes looked gentle friendship; her passionate lips curled in scorn. +"I might marry the sort of man you could be," she said, "but I never +could marry a man so weak that, without me to bolster him up, he'd +become a stool-pigeon." + +And she turned and walked away. + + + +V. + +A few days later, after she had taken her daily two hours' walk, Selma +went into the secluded part of Washington Park and spent the rest of +the morning writing. Her walk was her habitual time for thinking out +her plans for the day. And when it was writing that she had to do, and +the weather was fine, that particular hillside with its splendid shade +so restful for the eyes and so stimulating to the mind became her +work-shop. She thought that she was helped as much by the colors of +grass and foliage as by the softened light and the tranquil view out +over hills and valleys. + +When she had finished her article she consulted the little nickel watch +she carried in her bag and discovered that it was only one o'clock. +She had counted on getting through at three or half past. Two hours +gained. How could she best use them. The part of the Park where she +was sitting was separated from the Hastings grounds only by the winding +highroad making its last reach for the top of the hill. She decided +that she would go to see Jane Hastings--would try to make tactful +progress in her project of helping Jane and David Hull by marrying them +to each other. Once she had hit upon this project her interest in both +of them had equally increased. Yes, these gained two hours was an +opportunity not to be neglected. + +She put her papers into her shopping bag and went straight up the steep +hill. She arrived at the top, at the edge of the lawn before Jane's +house, with somewhat heightened color and brightened eyes, but with no +quickening of the breath. Her slim, solid little body had all the +qualities of endurance of those wiry ponies that come from the regions +her face and walk and the careless grace of her hair so delightfully +suggested. As she advanced toward the house she saw a gay company +assembled on the wide veranda. Jane was giving a farewell luncheon for +her visitors, had asked almost a dozen of the most presentable girls in +the town. It was a very fashionable affair, and everyone had dressed +for it in the best she had to wear at that time of day. + +Selma saw the company while there was still time for her to draw back +and descend into the woods. But she knew little about +conventionalities, and she cared not at all about them. She had come +to see Jane; she conducted herself precisely as she would have expected +any one to act who came to see her at any time. She marched straight +across the lawn. The hostess, the fashionable visitors, the +fashionable guests soon centered upon the extraordinary figure moving +toward them under that blazing sun. The figure was extraordinary not +for dress--the dress was plain and unconspicuous--but for that +expression of the free and the untamed, the lack of self-consciousness +so rarely seen except in children and animals. Jane rushed to the +steps to welcome her, seized her extended hands and kissed her with as +much enthusiasm as she kissed Jane. There was sincerity in this +greeting of Jane's; but there was pose, also. Here was one of those +chances to do the unconventional, the democratic thing. + +"What a glorious surprise!" cried Jane. "You'll stop for lunch, of +course?" Then to the girls nearest them: "This is Selma Gordon, who +writes for the New Day." + +Pronouncing of names--smiles--bows--veiled glances of +curiosity--several young women exchanging whispered comments of +amusement. And to be sure, Selma, in that simple costume, gloveless, +with dusty shoes and blown hair, did look very much out of place. But +then Selma would have looked, in a sense, out of place anywhere but in +a wilderness with perhaps a few tents and a half-tamed herd as +background. In another sense, she seemed in place anywhere as any +natural object must. + +"I don't eat lunch," said Selma. "But I'll stay if you'll put me next +to you and let me talk to you." + +She did not realize what an upsetting of order and precedence this +request, which seemed so simple to her, involved. Jane hesitated, but +only for a fraction of a second. "Why, certainly," said she. "Now +that I've got you I'd not let you go in any circumstances." + +Selma was gazing around at the other girls with the frank and pleased +curiosity of a child. "Gracious, what pretty clothes!" she cried--she +was addressing Miss Clearwater, of Cincinnati. "I've read about this +sort of thing in novels and in society columns of newspapers. But I +never saw it before. ISN'T it interesting!" + +Miss Clearwater, whose father was a United States Senator--by +purchase--had had experience of many oddities, male and female. She +also was attracted by Selma's sparkling delight, and by the magnetic +charm which she irradiated as a rose its perfume. "Pretty clothes are +attractive, aren't they?" said she, to be saying something. + +"I don't know a thing about clothes," confessed Selma. "I've never +owned at the same time more than two dresses fit to wear--usually only +one. And quite enough for me. I'd only be fretted by a lot of things +of that kind. But I like to see them on other people. If I had my way +the whole world would be well dressed." + +"Except you?" said Ellen Clearwater with a smile. + +"I couldn't be well dressed if I tried," replied Selma. "When I was a +child I was the despair of my mother. Most of the people in the +tenement where we lived were very dirty and disorderly--naturally +enough, as they had no knowledge and no money and no time. But mother +had ideas of neatness and cleanliness, and she used to try to keep me +looking decent. But it was of no use. Ten minutes after she had +smoothed me down I was flying every which way again." + +"You were brought up in a tenement?" said Miss Clearwater. Several of +the girls within hearing were blushing for Selma and were feeling how +distressed Jane Hastings must be. + +"I had a wonderfully happy childhood," replied Selma. "Until I was old +enough to understand and to suffer. I've lived in tenements all my +life--among very poor people. I'd not feel at home anywhere else." + +"When I was born," said Miss Clearwater, "we lived in a log cabin up in +the mining district of Michigan." + +Selma showed the astonishment the other girls were feeling. But while +their astonishment was in part at a girl of Ellen Clearwater's position +making such a degrading confession, hers had none of that element in +it. "You don't in the least suggest a log cabin or poverty of any +kind," said she. "I supposed you had always been rich and beautifully +dressed." + +"No, indeed," replied Ellen. She gazed calmly round at the other girls +who were listening. "I doubt if any of us here was born to what you +see. Of course we--some of us--make pretenses--all sorts of silly +pretenses. But as a matter of fact there isn't one of us who hasn't +near relatives in the cabins or the tenements at this very moment." + +There was a hasty turning away from this dangerous conversation. Jane +came back from ordering the rearrangement of her luncheon table. Said +Selma: + +"I'd like to wash my hands, and smooth my hair a little." + +"You take her up, Ellen," said Jane. "And hurry. We'll be in the +dining-room when you come down." + +Selma's eyes were wide and roving as she and Ellen went through the +drawing-room, the hall, up stairs and into the very prettily furnished +suite which Ellen was occupying. "I never saw anything like this +before!" exclaimed Selma. "It's the first time I was ever in a grand +house. This is a grand house, isn't it?" + +"No--it's only comfortable," replied Ellen. "Mr. Hastings--and Jane, +too, don't go in for grandeur." + +"How beautiful everything is--and how convenient!" exclaimed Selma. "I +haven't felt this way since the first time I went to the circus." She +pointed to a rack from which were suspended thin silk dressing gowns of +various rather gay patterns. "What are those?" she inquired. + +"Dressing gowns," said Ellen. "Just to wear round while one is +dressing or undressing." + +Selma advanced and felt and examined them. "But why so many?" she +inquired. + +"Oh, foolishness," said Ellen. "Indulgence! To suit different moods." + +"Lovely," murmured Selma. "Lovely!" + +"I suspect you of a secret fondness for luxury," said Ellen slyly. + +Selma laughed. "What would I do with such things?" she inquired. +"Why, I'd have no time to wear them. I'd never dare put on anything so +delicate." + +She roamed through dressing-room, bedroom, bath-room, marveling, +inquiring, admiring. "I'm so glad I came," said she. "This will give +me a fresh point of view. I can understand the people of your class +better, and be more tolerant about them. I understand now why they are +so hard and so indifferent. They're quite removed from the common lot. +They don't realize; they can't. How narrow it must make one to have +one's life filled with these pretty little things for luxury and show. +Why, if I lived this life, I'd cease to be human after a short time." + +Ellen was silent. + +"I didn't mean to say anything rude or offensive," said Selma, +sensitive to the faintest impressions. "I was speaking my thoughts +aloud.... Do you know David Hull?" + +"The young reformer?" said Ellen with a queer little smile. "Yes--quite +well." + +"Does he live like this?" + +"Rather more grandly," said Ellen. + +Selma shook her head. A depressed expression settled upon her +features. "It's useless," she said. "He couldn't possibly become a +man." + +Ellen laughed. "You must hurry," she said. "We're keeping everyone +waiting." + +As Selma was making a few passes at her rebellious thick hair--passes +the like of which Miss Clearwater had never before seen--she explained: + +"I've been somewhat interested in David Hull of late--have been hoping +he could graduate from a fake reformer into a useful citizen. But--" +She looked round expressively at the luxury surrounding them--"one +might as well try to grow wheat in sand." + +"Davy is a fine fraud," said Ellen. "Fine--because he doesn't in the +least realize that he's a fraud." + +"I'm afraid he is a fraud," said Selma setting on her hat again. "What +a pity? He might have been a man, if he'd been brought up properly." +She gazed at Ellen with sad, shining eyes. "How many men and women +luxury blights!" she cried. + +"It certainly has done for Davy," said Ellen lightly. "He'll never be +anything but a respectable fraud." + +"Why do YOU think so?" Selma inquired. + +"My father is a public man," Miss Clearwater explained. "And I've seen +a great deal of these reformers. They're the ordinary human variety of +politician plus a more or less conscious hypocrisy. Usually they're +men who fancy themselves superior to the common run in birth and +breeding. My father has taught me to size them up." + +They went down, and Selma, seated between Jane and Miss Clearwater, +amused both with her frank comments on the scene so strange to her--the +beautiful table, the costly service, the variety and profusion of +elaborate food. In fact, Jane, reaching out after the effects got +easily in Europe and almost as easily in the East, but overtaxed the +resources of the household which she was only beginning to get into +what she regarded as satisfactory order. The luncheon, therefore, was +a creditable and promising attempt rather than a success, from the +standpoint of fashion. Jane was a little ashamed, and at times +extremely nervous--this when she saw signs of her staff falling into +disorder that might end in rout. But Selma saw none of the defects. +She was delighted with the dazzling spectacle--for two or three +courses. Then she lapsed into quiet and could not be roused to speak. + +Jane and Ellen thought she was overwhelmed and had been seized of +shyness in this company so superior to any in which she had ever found +herself. Ellen tried to induce her to eat, and, failing, decided that +her refraining was not so much firmness in the two meals-a-day system +as fear of making a "break." She felt genuinely sorry for the silent +girl growing moment by moment more ill-at-ease. When the luncheon was +about half over Selma said abruptly to Jane: + +"I must go now. I've stayed longer than I should." + +"Go?" cried Jane. "Why, we haven't begun to talk yet." + +"Another time," said Selma, pushing back her chair. "No, don't rise." +And up she darted, smiling gayly round at the company. "Don't anybody +disturb herself," she pleaded. "It'll be useless, for I'll be gone." + +And she was as good as her word. Before any one quite realized what +she was about, she had escaped from the dining-room and from the house. +She almost ran across the lawn and into the woods. There she drew a +long breath noisily. + +"Free!" she cried, flinging out her arms. "Oh--but it was DREADFUL!" + +Miss Hastings and Miss Clearwater had not been so penetrating as they +fancied. Embarrassment had nothing to do with the silence that had +taken possession of the associate editor of the New Day. + +She was never self-conscious enough to be really shy. She hastened to +the office, meeting Victor Dorn in the street doorway. She cried: + +"Such an experience!" + +"What now?" said Victor. He was used to that phrase from the ardent +and impressionable Selma. For her, with her wide-open eyes and ears, +her vivid imagination and her thirsty mind, life was one closely packed +series of adventures. + +"I had an hour to spare," she proceeded to explain. "I thought it was +a chance to further a little scheme I've got for marrying Jane Hastings +and David Hull." + +"Um!" said Victor with a quick change of expression--which, however, +Selma happened not to observe. + +"And," she went on, "I blundered into a luncheon party Jane was giving. +You never saw--you never dreamed of such style--such dresses and dishes +and flowers and hats! And I was sitting there with them, enjoying it +all as if it were a circus or a ballet, when--Oh, Victor, what a silly, +what a pitiful waste of time and money! So much to do in the world--so +much that is thrillingly interesting and useful--and those intelligent +young people dawdling there at nonsense a child would weary of! I had +to run away. If I had stayed another minute I should have burst out +crying--or denouncing them--or pleading with them to behave themselves." + +"What else can they do?" said Victor. "They don't know any better. +They've never been taught. How's the article?" + +And he led the way up to the editorial room and held her to the subject +of the article he had asked her to write. At the first opportunity she +went back to the subject uppermost in her mind. Said she: + +"I guess you're right--as usual. There's no hope for any people of +that class. The busy ones are thinking only of making money for +themselves, and the idle ones are too enfeebled by luxury to think at +all. No, I'm afraid there's no hope for Hull--or for Jane either." + +"I'm not sure about Miss Hastings," said Victor. + +"You would have been if you'd seen her to-day," replied Selma. "Oh, she +was lovely, Victor--really wonderful to look at. But so obviously the +idler. And--body and soul she belongs to the upper class. She +understands charity, but she doesn't understand justice, and never +could understand it. I shall let her alone hereafter." + +"How harsh you women are in your judgments of each other," laughed +Dorn, busy at his desk. + +"We are just," replied Selma. "We are not fooled by each other's +pretenses." + +Dorn apparently had not heard. Selma saw that to speak would be to +interrupt. She sat at her own table and set to work on the editorial +paragraphs. After perhaps an hour she happened to glance at Victor. +He was leaning back in his chair, gazing past her out into the open; in +his face was an expression she had never seen--a look in the eyes, a +relaxing of the muscles round the mouth that made her think of him as a +man instead of as a leader. She was saying to herself. "What a +fascinating man he would have been, if he had not been an incarnate +cause." + +She felt that he was not thinking of his work. She longed to talk to +him, but she did not venture to interrupt. Never in all the years she +had known him had he spoken to her--or to any one--a severe or even an +impatient word. His tolerance, his good humor were infinite. +Yet--she, and all who came into contact with him, were afraid of him. +There could come, and on occasion there did come--into those +extraordinary blue eyes an expression beside which the fiercest flash +of wrath would be easy to face. + +When she glanced at him again, his normal expression had returned--the +face of the leader who aroused in those he converted into +fellow-workers a fanatical devotion that was the more formidable +because it was not infatuated. He caught her eye and said: + +"Things are in such good shape for us that it frightens me. I spend +most of my time in studying the horizon in the hope that I can foresee +which way the storm's coming from and what it will be." + +"What a pessimist you are!" laughed Selma. + +"That's why the Workingmen's League has a thick-and-thin membership of +thirteen hundred and fifty," replied Victor. "That's why the New Day +has twenty-two hundred paying subscribers. That's why we grow faster +than the employers can weed our men out and replace them with +immigrants and force them to go to other towns for work." + +"Well, anyhow," said the girl, "no matter what happens we can't be +weeded out." + +Victor shook his head. "Our danger period has just begun," he replied. +"The bosses realize our power. In the past we've been annoyed a little +from time to time. But they thought us hardly worth bothering with. +In the future we will have to fight." + +"I hope they will prosecute us," said Selma. "Then, we'll grow the +faster." + +"Not if they do it intelligently," replied Victor. "An intelligent +persecution--if it's relentless enough--always succeeds. You forget +that this isn't a world of moral ideas but of force.... I am afraid of +Dick Kelly. He is something more than a vulgar boss. He SEES. My +hope is that he won't be able to make the others see. I saw him a +while ago. He was extremely polite to me--more so than he ever has +been before. He is up to something. I suspect----" + +Victor paused, reflecting. "What?" asked Selma eagerly. + +"I suspect that he thinks he has us." He rose, preparing to go out. +"Well--if he has--why, he has. And we shall have to begin all over +again." + +"How stupid they are!" exclaimed the girl. "To fight us who are simply +trying to bring about peaceably and sensibly what's bound to come about +anyhow." + +"Yes--the rain is bound to come," said Victor. "And we say, 'Here's an +umbrella and there's the way to shelter.' And they laugh at OUR +umbrella and, with the first drops plashing on their foolish faces, +deny that it's going to rain." + +The Workingmen's League, always first in the field with its ticket, had +been unusually early that year. Although it was only the first week in +August and the election would not be until the third of October, the +League had nominated. It was a ticket made up entirely of skilled +workers who had lived all their lives in Remsen City and who had +acquired an independence--Victor Dorn was careful not to expose to the +falling fire of the opposition any of his men who could be ruined by +the loss of a job or could be compelled to leave town in search of +work. The League always went early into campaign because it pursued a +much slower and less expensive method of electioneering than either of +the old parties--or than any of the "upper class" reform parties that +sprang up from time to time and died away as they accomplished or +failed of their purpose--securing recognition for certain personal +ambitions not agreeable to the old established bosses. Besides, the +League was, like the bosses and their henchmen, in politics every day +in every year. The League theory was that politics was as much a part +of a citizen's daily routine as his other work or his meals. + +It was the night of the League's great ratification meeting. The next +day the first campaign number--containing the biographical sketch of +Tony Rivers, Kelly's right-hand man ... would go upon the press, and on +the following day it would reach the public. + +Market Square in Remsen City was on the edge of the power quarter, was +surrounded by cheap hotels, boarding houses and saloons. A few years +before, the most notable citizens, market basket on arm, could have +been seen three mornings in the week, making the rounds of the stalls +and stands, both those in the open and those within the Market House. +But customs had rapidly changed in Remsen City, and with the exception +of a few old fogies only the poorer classes went to market. The +masters of houses were becoming gentlemen, and the housewives were +elevating into ladies--and it goes without saying that no gentleman and +no lady would descend to a menial task even in private, much less in +public. + +Market Square had even become too common for any but the inferior +meetings of the two leading political parties. Only the Workingmen's +League held to the old tradition that a political meeting of the first +rank could be properly held nowhere but in the natural assembling place +of the people--their market. So, their first great rally of the +campaign was billed for Market Square. And at eight o'clock, headed by +a large and vigorous drum corps, the Victor Dorn cohorts at their full +strength marched into the centre of the Square, where one of the stands +had been transformed with flags, bunting and torches into a speaker's +platform. A crowd of many thousands accompanied and followed the +procession. Workingmen's League meetings were popular, even among +those who believed their interests lay elsewhere. At League meetings +one heard the plain truth, sometimes extremely startling plain truth. +The League had no favors to ask of anybody, had nothing to conceal, was +strongly opposed to any and all political concealments. Thus, its +speakers enjoyed a freedom not usual in political speaking--and Dorn +and his fellow-leaders were careful that no router, no exaggerator or +well intentioned wild man of any kind should open his mouth under a +league banner. THAT was what made the League so dangerous--and so +steadily prosperous. + +The chairman, Thomas Colman, the cooper, was opening the meeting in a +speech which was an instance of how well a man of no platform talent +can acquit himself when he believes something and believes it is his +duty to convey it to his fellow-men. Victor Dorn, to be the fourth +speaker and the orator of the evening, was standing at the rear of the +platform partially concealed by the crowd of men and women leaders of +the party grouped behind Colman. As always at the big formal +demonstrations of the League, Victor was watching every move. This +evening his anxiety was deeper than ever before. His trained political +sagacity warned him that, as he had suggested to Selma, the time of his +party's first great crisis was at hand. No movement could become +formidable with out a life and death struggle, when its aim frankly was +to snatch power from the dominant class and to place it where that +class could not hope to prevail either by direct means of force or by +its favorite indirect means of bribery. What would Kelly do? What +would be his stroke at the very life of the League?--for Victor had +measured Kelly and knew he was not one to strike until he could destroy. + +Like every competent man of action, Victor had measured his own +abilities, and had found that they were to be relied upon. But the +contest between him and Kelly--the contest in the last ditch--was so +appallingly unequal. Kelly had the courts and the police, the moneyed +class, the employers of labor, had the clergy and well-dressed +respectability, the newspapers, all the customary arbiters of public +sentiment. Also, he had the criminal and the semi-criminal classes. +And what had the League? + +The letter of the law, guaranteeing freedom of innocent speech and +action, guaranteeing the purity of the ballot--no, not guaranteeing, +but simply asserting those rights, and leaving the upholding of them +to--Kelly's allies and henchmen! Also, the League had the power of +between a thousand and fifteen hundred intelligent and devoted men and +about the same number of women--a solid phalanx of great might, of +might far beyond its numbers. Finally, it had Victor Dorn. He had no +mean opinion of his value to the movement; but he far and most modestly +underestimated it. The human way of rallying to an abstract principle +is by way of a standard bearer--a man--personality--a real or fancied +incarnation of the ideal to be struggled for. And to the Workingmen's +League, to the movement for conquering Remsen City for the mass of its +citizens, Victor Dorn was that incarnation. + +Kelly could use violence--violence disguised as law, violence candidly +and brutally lawless. Victor Dorn could only use lawful means--clearly +and cautiously lawful means. He must at all costs prevent the use of +force against him and his party--must give Kelly no pretext for using +the law lawlessly. If Kelly used force against him, whether the +perverted law of the courts or open lawlessness, he must meet it with +peace. If Kelly smote him on the right cheek he must give him the left +to be smitten. + +When the League could outvote Kelly, then--another policy, still of +calmness and peace and civilization, but not so meek. But until the +League could outvote Kelly, nothing but patient endurance. + +Every man in the League had been drilled in this strategy. Every man +understood--and to be a member of the League meant that one was +politically educated. Victor believed in his associates as he believed +in himself. Still, human nature was human nature. If Kelly should +suddenly offer some adroit outrageous provocation--would the League be +able to resist? + +Victor, on guard, studied the crowd spreading out from the platform in +a gigantic fan. Nothing there to arouse suspicion; ten or twelve +thousand of working class men and women. His glance pushed on out +toward the edges of the crowd--toward the saloons and alleys of the +disreputable south side of Market Square. His glance traveled slowly +along, pausing upon each place where these loungers, too far away to +hear, were gathered into larger groups. Why he did not know, but +suddenly his glance wheeled to the right, and then as suddenly to the +left--the west and the east ends of the square. There, on either side +he recognized, in the farthest rim of the crowd, several of the men who +did Kelly's lowest kinds of dirty work--the brawlers, the repeaters, +the leaders of gangs, the false witnesses for petty corporation damage +cases. A second glance, and he saw or, perhaps, divined--purpose in +those sinister presences. He looked for the police--the detail of a +dozen bluecoats always assigned to large open-air meetings. Not a +policeman was to be seen. + +Victor pushed through the crowd on the platform, advanced to the side +of Colman. "Just a minute, Tom," he said. "I've got to say a word--at +once." + +Colman had fallen back; Victor Dorn was facing the crowd--HIS +crowd--the men and women who loved him. In the clear, friendly, +natural voice that marked him for the leader born, the honest leader of +an honest cause, he said: + +"My friends, if there is an attempt to disturb this meeting, remember +what we of the League stand for. No violence. Draw away from every +disturber, and wait for the police to act. If the police stop our +meeting, let them--and be ready to go to court and testify to the exact +words of the speaker on which the meeting was stopped. Remember, we +must be more lawful than the law itself!" + +He was turning away. A cheer was rising--a belated cheer, because his +words had set them all to thinking and to observing. From the left of +the crowd, a dozen yards away from the platform, came a stone heavily +rather than swiftly flung, as from an impeded hand. In full view of +all it curved across the front of the platform and struck Victor Dorn +full in the side of the head. + +He threw up his hands. + +"Boys--remember!" he shouted with a terrible energy--then, he staggered +forward and fell from the platform into the crowd. + +The stone was a signal. As it flew, into the crowd from every +direction the Beech Hollow gangs tore their way, yelling and cursing +and striking out right and left--trampling children, knocking down +women, pouring out the foulest insults. The street lamps all round +Market Square went out, the torches on the platform were torn down and +extinguished. And in a dimness almost pitch dark a riot that involved +that whole mass of people raged hideously. Yells and screams and +groans, the shrieks of women, the piteous appeals of children--benches +torn up for weapons--mad slashing about--snarls and singings of +pain-stricken groups--then police whistles, revolvers fired in the air, +and the quick, regular tramp of disciplined forces. The +police--strangely ready, strangely inactive until the mischief had all +been done entered the square from the north and, forming a double line +across it from east to west, swept it slowly clean. The fighting ended +as abruptly as it had begun. Twenty minutes after the flight of that +stone, the square was empty save a group of perhaps fifty men and women +formed about Victor Dorn's body in the shelter of the platform. + +Selma Gordon was holding his head. Jane Hastings and Ellen Clearwater +were kneeling beside him, and Jane was wiping his face with a +handkerchief wet with whisky from the flask of the man who had escorted +them there. + +"He is only stunned," said Selma. "I can feel the beat of his blood. +He is only stunned." + +A doctor came, got down on his knees, made a rapid examination with +expert hands. As he felt, one of the relighted torches suddenly lit up +Victor's face and the faces of those bending over him. + +"He is only stunned, Doctor," said Selma. + +"I think so," replied the doctor. + +"We left our carriage in the side street just over there," said Jane +Hastings. "It will take him to the hospital." + +"No--home," said Selma, who was calm. "He must be taken home." + +"The hospital is the place for him," said the doctor. + +"No--home," repeated Selma. She glanced at the men standing round. +"Tom--Henry--and you, Ed--help me lift him." + +"Please, Selma," whispered Jane. "Let him be taken to the hospital." + +"Among our enemies?" said Selma with a strange and terrible little +laugh. "Oh, no. After this, we trust no one. They may have arranged +to finish this night's work there. He goes home--doesn't he, boys?" + +"That's right, Miss Gordon," replied one of them. + +The doctor shrugged his shoulders. "Here's where I drop the case," +said he. + +"Nothing of the kind," cried Jane imperiously. "I am Jane +Hastings--Martin Hastings' daughter. You will come with us, please--or +I shall see to it that you are not let off easily for such a shameful +neglect of duty." + +"Let him go, Jane," said Selma. "There will be a doctor waiting. And +he is only stunned. Come, boys--lift him up." + +They laid him on a bench top, softened with the coats of his followers. +At the carriage, standing in Farwell Street, they laid him across the +two seats. Selma got in with him. Tom Colman climbed to the box +beside the coachman. Jane and Miss Clearwater, their escorts and about +a score of the Leaguers followed on foot. As the little procession +turned into Warner Street it was stopped by a policeman. + +"Can't go down this way," he said. + +"It's Mr. Dorn. We're taking him home. He was hurt," explained Colman. + +"Fire lines. Street's closed," said the policeman gruffly. + +Selma thrust her head out. "We must get him home----" + +"House across the street burning--and probably his house, too," cut in +the policeman. "He's been raising hell--he has. But it's coming home +to him at last. Take him to the hospital." + +"Jane," cried Selma, "make this man pass us!" + +Jane faced the policeman, explained who she was. He became humbly +civil at once. "I've just told her, ma'am," said he, "that his house +is burning. The mob's gutting the New Day office and setting fire to +everything." + +"My house is in the next street," said Colman. "Drive there. Some of +you people get Dr. Charlton--and everything. Get busy. Whip up, +driver. Here, give me the lines!" + +Thus, within five minutes, Victor was lying upon a couch in the parlor +of Colman's cottage, and within ten minutes Dr. Charlton was beside him +and was at work. Selma and Jane and Mrs. Colman were in the room. The +others--a steadily increasing crowd--were on the steps outside, in the +front yard, were filling the narrow street. Colman had organized fifty +Leaguers into a guard, to be ready for any emergencies. Over the tops +of the low houses could be seen the vast cloud of smoke from the fire; +the air was heavy with the odors of burning wood; faintly came sounds +of engines, of jubilant drunken shouts. + +"A fracture of the skull and of the jaw-bone. Not necessarily +serious," was Dr. Charlton's verdict. + +The young man, unconscious, ghastly pale, with his thick hair mussed +about his brow and on the right side clotted with blood, lay breathing +heavily. Ellen Clearwater came in and Mrs. Colman whispered to her the +doctor's cheering statement. She went to Jane and said in an undertone: + +"We can go now, Jane. Come on." + +Jane seemed not to hear. She was regarding the face of the young man +on the couch. + +Ellen touched her arm. "We're intruding on these people," she +whispered. "Let's go. We've done all we can." + +Selma did not hear, but she saw and understood. + +"Yes--you'd better go, Jane," she said. "Mrs. Colman and I will do +everything that's necessary." + +Jane did not heed. She advanced a step nearer the couch. "You are +sure, doctor?" she said, and her voice sounded unnatural. + +"Yes, miss----" He glanced at her face. "Yes, Miss Hastings. He'll be +out in less than ten days, as good as ever. It's a very simple affair." + +Jane glanced round. "Is there a telephone? I wish to send for Dr. +Alban." + +"I'd be glad to see him," said Dr. Charlton. "But I assure you it's +unnecessary." + +"We don't want Dr. Alban," said Selma curtly. "Go home, Jane, and let +us alone." + +"I shall go bring Dr. Alban," said Jane. + +Selma took her by the arm and compelled her into the hall, and closed +the door into the room where Victor lay. "You must go home, Jane," she +said quietly. "We know what to do with our leader. And we could not +allow Dr. Alban here." + +"Victor must have the best," said Jane. + +She and Selma looked at each other, and Selma understood. + +"He HAS the best," said she, gentle with an effort. + +"Dr. Alban is the best," said Jane. + +"The most fashionable," said Selma. "Not the best." With restraint, +"Go home. Let us alone. This is no place for you--for Martin +Hastings' daughter." + +Jane, looking and acting like one in a trance, tried to push past her +and reenter the room. Selma stood firm. She said: "If you do not go I +shall have these men take you to your carriage. You do not know what +you are doing." + +Jane looked at her. "I love him," she said. + +"So do we," said Selma. "And he belongs to US. You must go. Come!" +She seized her by the arm, and beckoning one of the waiting Leaguers to +her assistance she pushed her quietly but relentlessly along the hall, +out of the house, out of the yard and into the carriage. Then she +closed the door, while Jane sank back against the cushions. + +"Yes, he belongs to you," said Jane; "but I love him. Oh, Selma!" + +Selma suddenly burst into tears. "Go, Jane, dear. You MUST go," she +cried. + +"At least I'll wait here until--until they are sure," said Jane. "You +can't refuse me that, Selma." + +"But they are sure," said Selma. "You must go with your friends. Here +they come." + +When Ellen Clearwater and Joe Wetherbe--the second son of the chief +owner of the First National--reached the curb, Selma said to Wetherbe: + +"Please stand aside. I've something to say to this lady." + +When Wetherbe had withdrawn, she said: "Miss Hastings is--not quite +herself. You had better take her home alone." + +Jane leaned from the open carriage window. "Ellen," said she, "I am +going to stay here until Victor recovers consciousness, and I am SURE." + +"He has just come around," said Ellen. "He is certain to get well. +His mind is clear." + +"I must see for myself," cried Jane. + +Selma was preventing her leaving the carriage when Ellen quietly +interfered with a significant look for Selma. "Jane," she said, "you +can't go in. The doctor has just put every one out but his assistant +and a nurse that has come." + +Jane hesitated, drew back into the corner of the carriage. "Tell Mr. +Wetherbe to go his own way," said Ellen aside to Selma, and she got in +beside Jane. + +"To Mr. Hastings'," said Selma to the driver. The carriage drove away. + +She gave Ellen's message to Wetherbe and returned to the house. Victor +was still unconscious; he did not come to himself until toward +daylight. And then it was clear to them all that Dr. Charlton's +encouraging diagnosis was correct. + +Public opinion in Remsen City was publicly articulate by means of three +daily newspapers--the Pioneer, the Star, and the Free Press. The Star +and the Free Press were owned by the same group of capitalists who +controlled the gas company and the water works. The Pioneer was owned +by the traction interests. Both groups of capitalists were jointly +interested in the railways, the banks and in the principal factories. +The Pioneer was Republican, was regarded as the organ of Dick Kelly. +The Star was Democratic, spoke less cordially of Kelly and always +called for House, Mr. House, or Joseph House, Esquire. The Free Press +posed as independent with Democratic leanings. It indulged in +admirable essays against corruption, gang rule and bossism. But it was +never specific and during campaigns was meek and mild. For nearly a +dozen years there had not been a word of truth upon any subject +important to the people of Remsen City in the columns of any of the +three. During wars between rival groups of capitalists a half-truth +was now and then timidly uttered, but never a word of "loose talk," of +"anarchy," of anything but the entirely "safe, sane and conservative." + +Thus, any one who might have witnessed the scenes in Market Square on +Thursday evening would have been not a little astonished to read the +accounts presented the next day by the three newspapers. According to +all three the Workingmen's League, long a menace to the public peace, +had at last brought upon Remsen City the shame of a riot in which two +men, a woman and four children had lost their lives and more than a +hundred, "including the notorious Victor Dorn," had been injured. And +after the riot the part of the mob that was hostile to "the Dorn gang" +had swept down upon the office of the New Day, had wrecked it, and had +set fire to the building, with the result that five houses were burned +before the flames could be put out. The Free Press published, as a +mere rumor, that the immediate cause of the outbreak had been an +impending "scurrilous attack" in the New Day upon one of the political +gangs of the slums and its leader. The Associated Press, sending forth +an account of the riot to the entire country, represented it as a fight +between rival gangs of workmen precipitated by the insults and menaces +of a "socialistic party led by a young operator named Dorn." Dorn's +faction had aroused in the mass of the workingmen a fear that this +spread of "socialistic and anarchistic ideas" would cause a general +shut down of factories and a flight of the capital that was "giving +employment to labor." + +A version of the causes and the events, somewhat nearer the truth, was +talked about Remsen City. But all the respectable classes were well +content with what their newspapers printed. And, while some +broad-minded respectabilities spoke of the affair as an outrage, none +of them was disposed to think that any real wrong had been done. +Victor Dorn and his crowd of revolutionists had got, after all, only +their deserts. + +After forty-eight hours of careful study of public opinion, Dick Kelly +decided that Remsen City was taking the dose as he had anticipated. He +felt emboldened to proceed to his final move in the campaign against +"anarchy" in his beloved city. On the second morning after the riot, +all three newspapers published double-headed editorials calling upon +the authorities to safeguard the community against another such +degrading and dangerous upheaval. "It is time that the distinction +between liberty and license be sharply drawn." After editorials in +this vein had been repeated for several days, after sundry bodies of +eminently respectable citizens--the Merchants' Association, the +Taxpayers' League, the Chamber of Commerce--had passed indignant and +appealing resolutions, after two priests, a clergyman and four +preachers had sermonized against "the leniency of constituted authority +with criminal anarchy," Mr. Kelly had the City Attorney go before Judge +Lansing and ask for an injunction. + +Judge Lansing promptly granted the injunction. The New Day was +enjoined from appearing. The Workingmen's League was enjoined from +holding meetings. + +Then the County Prosecutor, also a henchman of Kelly's, secured from +the Grand Jury--composed of farmers, merchants and owners of +factories--indictments against Thomas Colman and Victor Dorn for +inciting a riot. + +Meanwhile Victor Dorn was rapidly recovering. With rare restraint +young Dr. Charlton did not fuss and fret and meddle, did not hamper +nature with his blundering efforts to assist, did not stuff +"nourishment" into his patient to decay and to produce poisonous blood. +He let the young man's superb vitality work the inevitable and speedy +cure. Thus, wounds and shocks, that have often been mistreated by +doctors into mortal, passed so quickly that only Selma Gordon and the +doctor himself realized how grave Victor's case had been. The day he +was indicted--just a week from the riot--he was sitting up and was +talking freely. + +"Won't it set him back if I tell him all that has occurred?" said Selma. + +"Talk to him as you would to me," replied Charlton. "He is a sensible +man. I've already told him pretty much everything. It has kept him +from fretting, to be able to lie there quietly and make his plans." + +Had you looked in upon Victor and Selma, in Colman's little transformed +parlor, you would rather have thought Selma the invalid. The man in +the bed was pale and thin of face, but his eyes had the expression of +health and of hope. Selma had great circles under her eyes and her +expression was despair struggling to conceal itself. Those +indictments, those injunctions--how powerful the enemy were! How could +such an enemy, aroused new and inflexibly resolved, be +combatted?--especially when one had no money, no way of reaching the +people, no chance to organize. + +"Dr. Charlton has told you?" said Selma. + +"Day before yesterday," replied Victor. "Why do you look so +down-in-the-mouth, Selma?" + +"It isn't easy to be cheerful, with you ill and the paper destroyed," +replied she. + +"But I'm not ill, and the paper isn't destroyed," said Victor. "Never +were either I or it doing such good work as now." His eyes were +dancing. "What more could one ask than to have such stupid enemies as +we've got?" + +Selma did not lift her eyes. To her those enemies seemed anything but +stupid. Had they not ruined the League? + +"I see you don't understand," pursued Victor. "No matter. You'll wear +a very different face two weeks from now." + +"But," said Selma, "exactly what you said you were afraid of has +occurred. And now you say you're glad of it." + +"I told you I was afraid Dick Kelly would make the one move that could +destroy us." + +"But he has!" cried Selma. + +Victor smiled. "No, indeed!" replied he. + +"What worse could he have done?" + +"I'll not tell you," said Victor. "I'd not venture to say aloud such a +dangerous thing as what I'd have done if I had been in his place. +Instead of doing that, he made us. We shall win this fall's election." + +Selma lifted her head with a sudden gesture of hope. She had unbounded +confidence in Victor Dorn, and his tone was the tone of absolute +confidence. + +"I had calculated on winning in five years. I had left the brutal +stupidity of our friend Kelly out of account." + +"Then you see how you can hold meetings and start up the paper?" + +"I don't want to do either," said Victor. "I want those injunctions to +stand. Those fools have done at a stroke what we couldn't have done in +years. They have united the working class. They--the few--have +forbidden us, the many, to unite or to speak. If those injunctions hold +for a month, nothing could stop our winning this fall.... I can't +understand how Dick Kelly could be so stupid. Five years ago these +moves of his would have been bad for us--yes, even three years ago. +But we've got too strong--and he doesn't realize! Selma, when you want +to win, always pray that your opponent will underestimate you." + +"I still don't understand," said Selma. "None of us does. You must +explain to me, so that I'll know what to do." + +"Do nothing," said Victor. "I shall be out a week from to-day. I +shall not go into the streets until I not only am well but look well." + +"They arrested Tom Colman to-day," said Selma. "But they put the case +over until you'd be able to plead at the same time." + +"That's right," said Victor. "They are playing into our hands!" And +he laughed as heartily as his bandages would permit. + +"Oh, I don't understand--I don't understand at all!" cried Selma. +"Maybe you are all wrong about it." + +"I was never more certain in my life," replied Victor. "Stop worrying +about it, my dear." And he patted her hands gently as they lay folded +in her lap. "I want you--all our people--to go round looking sad these +next few days. I want Dick Kelly to feel that he is on the right +track." + +There came a knock at the door, and Mrs. Colman entered. She had been +a school teacher, and of all the occupations there is no other that +leaves such plain, such indelible traces upon manner, mind and soul. +Said she: + +"Miss Jane Hastings is outside in her carriage--and wants to know if +she can see you." + +Selma frowned. Victor said with alacrity: "Certainly. Bring her in, +Mrs. Colman." + +Selma rose. "Wait until I can get out of the way," she cried. + +"Sit down, and sit still," commanded Victor. + +Selma continued to move toward the door. "No--I don't wish to see +her," she said. + +Victor chagrined her by acquiescing without another word. "You'll look +in after supper?" he asked. + +"If you want me," said the girl. + +"Come back here," said Victor. "Wait, Mrs. Colman." When Selma was +standing by the bed he took her hand. "Selma," he said, "don't let +these things upset you. Believe me, I'm right. Can't you trust me?" + +Selma had the look of a wild creature detained against its will. "I'm +not worried about the party--and the paper," she burst out. "I'm +worried about you." + +"But I'm all right. Can't you see I'm almost well?" + +Selma drew her hand away. "I'll be back about half-past seven," she +said, and bolted from the room. + +Victor's good-natured, merry smile followed her to the door. When the +sound of her retreat by way of the rear of the house was dying away he +said to Mrs. Colman: + +"Now--bring in the young lady. And please warn her that she must stay +at most only half an hour by that clock over there on the mantel." + +Every day Jane had been coming to inquire, had been bringing or sending +flowers and fruit--which, by Dr. Charlton's orders, were not supposed +to enter the invalid's presence. Latterly she had been asking to see +Victor; she was surprised when Mrs. Colman returned with leave for her +to enter. Said Mrs. Colman: + +"He's alone. Miss Gordon has just gone. You will see a clock on the +mantel in his room. You must not stay longer than half an hour." + +"I shall be very careful what I say," said Jane. + +"Oh, you needn't bother," said the ex-school teacher. "Dr. Charlton +doesn't believe in sick-room atmosphere. You must treat Mr. Dorn +exactly as you would a well person. If you're going to take on, or put +on, you'd better not go in at all." + +"I'll do my best," said Jane, rather haughtily, for she did not like +Mrs. Colman's simple and direct manner. She was used to being treated +with deference, especially by the women of Mrs. Colman's class; and +while she disapproved of deference in theory, in practice she craved +it, and expected it, and was irritated if she did not get it. But, as +she realized how unattractive this weakness was, she usually took +perhaps more pains than does the average person to conceal it. That +day her nerves were too tense for petty precautions. However, Mrs. +Colman was too busy inspecting the details of Miss Hastings' toilet to +note Miss Hastings' manners. + +Jane's nervousness vanished the instant she was in the doorway of the +parlor with Victor Dorn looking at her in that splendidly simple and +natural way of his. "So glad to see you," he said. "What a delightful +perfume you bring with you. I've noticed it before. I know it isn't +flowers, but it smells like flowers. With most perfumes you can smell +through the perfume to something that's the very reverse of sweet." + +They were shaking hands. She said: "That nice woman who let me in +cautioned me not to put on a sick-room manner or indulge in sick-room +talk. It was quite unnecessary. You're looking fine." + +"Ain't I, though?" exclaimed Victor. "I've never been so comfortable. +Just weak enough to like being waited on. You were very good to me the +night that stone knocked me over. I want to thank you, but I don't +know how. And the flowers, and the fruit--You have been so kind." + +"I could do very little," said Jane, blushing and faltering. "And I +wanted to do--everything." Suddenly all energy, "Oh, Mr. Dorn, I heard +and saw it all. It was--INFAMOUS! And the lying newspapers--and all +the people I meet socially. They keep me in a constant rage." + +Victor was smiling gayly. "The fortunes of war," said he. "I expect +nothing else. If they fought fair they couldn't fight at all. We, on +this side of the struggle, can afford to be generous and tolerant. +They are fighting the losing battle; they're trying to hold on to the +past, and of course it's slipping from them inch by inch. But we--we +are in step with the march of events." + +When she was with him Jane felt that his cause was hers, also--was the +only cause. "When do you begin publishing your paper again?" she +asked. "As soon as you are sitting up?" + +"Not for a month or so," replied he. "Not until after the election." + +"Oh, I forgot about that injunction. You think that as soon as Davy +Hull's crowd is in they will let you begin again?" + +He hesitated. "Not exactly that," he said. "But after the election +there will be a change." + +Her eyes flashed. "And they have indicted you! I heard the newsboys +crying it and stopped and bought a paper. But I shall do something +about that. I am going straight from here to father. Ellen Clearwater +and I and Joe Wetherbe SAW. And Ellen and I will testify if it's +necessary--and will make Joe tell the truth. Do you know, he actually +had the impudence to try to persuade Ellen and me the next day that we +saw what the papers reported?" + +"I believe it," said Victor. "So I believe that Joe convinced himself." + +"You are too charitable," replied Jane. "He's afraid of his father." + +"Miss Hastings," said Victor, "you suggested a moment ago that you +would influence your father to interfere in this matter of the +indictment." + +"I'll promise you now that he will have it stopped," said Jane. + +"You want to help the cause, don't you?" + +Jane's eyes shifted, a little color came into her cheeks. "The +cause--and you," she said. + +"Very well," said Victor. "Then you will not interfere. And if your +father talks of helping me you will discourage him all you can." + +"You are saying that out of consideration for me. You're afraid I will +quarrel with my father." + +"I hadn't thought of that," said Victor. "I can't tell you what I have +in mind. But I'll have to say this much--that if you did anything to +hinder those fellows from carrying out their plans against me and +against the League to the uttermost you'd be doing harm instead of +good." + +"But they may send you to jail.... No, I forgot. You can give bail." + +Victor's eyes had a quizzical expression. "Yes, I could give bail. +But even if I don't give bail, Miss Hastings--even if I am sent to +jail--Colman and I--still you must not interfere. You promise me?" + +Jane hesitated. "I can't promise," she finally said. + +"You must," said Victor. "You'll make a mess of my plans, if you +don't." + +"You mean that?" + +"I mean that. Your intentions are good. But you would only do +mischief--serious mischief." + +They looked at each other. Said Jane: "I promise--on one condition." + +"Yes?" + +"That if you should change your mind and should want my help, you'd +promptly and freely ask for it." + +"I agree to that," said Victor. "Now, let's get it clearly in mind. +No matter what is done about me or the League, you promise not to +interfere in any way, unless I ask you to." + +Again Jane hesitated. "No matter what they do?" she pleaded. + +"No matter what they do," insisted he. + +Something in his expression gave her a great thrill of confidence in +him, of enthusiasm. "I promise," she said. "You know best." + +"Indeed I do," said he. "Thank you." + +A moment's silence, then she exclaimed: "That was why you let me in +to-day--because you wanted to get that promise from me." + +"That was one of the reasons," confessed he. "In fact, it was the +chief reason." He smiled at her. "There's nothing I'm so afraid of as +of enthusiasm. I'm going to be still more cautious and exact another +promise from you. You must not tell any one that you have promised not +to interfere." + +"I can easily promise that," said Jane. + +"Be careful," warned Victor. "A promise easily made is a promise +easily forgotten." + +"I begin to understand," said Jane. "You want them to attack you as +savagely as possible. And you don't want them to get the slightest +hint of your plan." + +"A good guess," admitted Victor. He looked at her gravely. +"Circumstances have let you farther into my confidence than any one +else is. I hope you will not abuse it." + +"You can rely upon me," said Jane. "I want your friendship and your +respect as I never wanted anything in my life before. I'm not afraid to +say these things to you, for I know I'll not be misunderstood." + +Victor's smile thrilled her again. "You were born one of us," he said. +"I felt it the first time we talked together." + +"Yes. I do want to be somebody," replied the girl. "I can't content +myself in a life of silly routine ... can't do things that have no +purpose, no result. And if it wasn't for my father I'd come out openly +for the things I believe in. But I've got to think of him. It may be +a weakness, but I couldn't overcome it. As long as my father lives I'll +do nothing that would grieve him. Do you despise me for that?" + +"I don't despise anybody for anything," said Victor. "In your place I +should put my father first." He laughed. "In your place I'd probably +be a Davy Hull or worse. I try never to forget that I owe everything +to the circumstances in which I was born and brought up. I've simply +got the ideas of my class, and it's an accident that I am of the class +to which the future belongs--the working class that will possess the +earth as soon as it has intelligence enough to enter into its kingdom." + +"But," pursued Jane, returning to herself, "I don't intend to be +altogether useless. I can do something and he--my father, I +mean--needn't know. Do you think that is dreadful?" + +"I don't like it," said Victor. But he said it in such a way that she +did not feel rebuked or even judged. + +"Nor do I," said she. "I'd rather lead the life I wish to lead--say +the things I believe--do the things I believe in--all openly. But I +can't. And all I can do is to spend the income of my money my mother +left me--spend it as I please." With a quick embarrassed gesture she +took an envelope from a small bag in which she was carrying it. +"There's some of it," she said. "I want to give that to your campaign +fund. You are free to use it in any way you please--any way, for +everything you are and do is your cause." + +Victor was lying motionless, his eyes closed. + +"Don't refuse," she begged. "You've no right to refuse." + +A long silence, she watching him uneasily. At last he said, "No--I've +no right to refuse. If I did, it would be from a personal motive. You +understand that when you give the League this money you are doing what +your father would regard as an act of personal treachery to him?" + +"You don't think so, do you?" cried she. + +"Yes, I do," said he deliberately. + +Her face became deathly pale, then crimson. She thrust the envelope +into the bag, closed it hastily. "Then I can't give it," she murmured. +"Oh--but you are hard!" + +"If you broke with your father and came with us--and it killed him, as +it probably would," Victor Dorn went on, "I should respect you--should +regard you as a wonderful, terrible woman. I should envy you having a +heart strong enough to do a thing so supremely right and so supremely +relentless. And I should be glad you were not of my blood--should +think you hardly human. Yet that is what you ought to do." + +"I am not up to it," said Jane. + +"Then you mustn't do the other," said Victor. "We need the money. I +am false to the cause in urging you not to give it. But--I'm human." + +He was looking away, an expression in his eyes and about his mouth that +made him handsomer than she would have believed a man could be. She +was looking at him longingly, her beautiful eyes swimming. Her lips +were saying inaudibly, "I love you--I love you." + +"What did you say?" he asked, his thoughts returning from their far +journey. + +"My time is up," she exclaimed, rising. + +"There are better ways of helping than money," said he, taking her +hand. "And already you've helped in those ways." + +"May I come again?" + +"Whenever you like. But--what would your father say?" + +"Then you don't want me to come again?" + +"It's best not," said he. "I wish fate had thrown us on the same side. +But it has put us in opposite camps--and we owe it to ourselves to +submit." + +Their hands were still clasped. "You are content to have it so?" she +said sadly. + +"No, I'm not," cried he, dropping her hand. "But we are helpless." + +"We can always hope," said she softly. + +On impulse she laid her hand in light caress upon his brow, then +swiftly departed. As she stood in Mrs. Colman's flowery little front +yard and looked dazedly about, it seemed to her that she had been away +from the world--away from herself--and was reluctantly but inevitably +returning. + + + +VI + +As Jane drove into the grounds of the house on the hilltop she saw her +father and David Hull in an obviously intimate and agitated +conversation on the front veranda. She made all haste to join them; +nor was she deterred by the reception she got--the reception given to +the unwelcome interrupter. Said she: + +"You are talking about those indictments, aren't you? Everyone else +is. There's a group on every corner down town, and people are calling +their views to each other from windows across the streets." + +Davy glanced triumphantly at her father. "I told you so," said he. + +Old Hastings was rubbing his hand over his large, bony, wizened face in +the manner that indicates extreme perplexity. + +Davy turned to Jane. "I've been trying to show your father what a +stupid, dangerous thing Dick Kelly has done. I want him to help me +undo it. It MUST be undone or Victor Dorn will sweep the town on +election day." + +Jane's heart was beating wildly. She continued to say carelessly, "You +think so?" + +"Davy's got a bad attack of big red eye to-day," said her father. +"It's a habit young men have." + +"I'm right, Mr. Hastings," cried Hull. "And, furthermore, you know I'm +right, Jane; you saw that riot the other night. Joe Wetherbe told me +so. You said that it was an absolutely unprovoked assault of the gangs +of Kelly and House. Everyone in town knows it was. The middle and the +upper class people are pretending to believe what the papers +printed--what they'd like to believe. But they KNOW better. The +working people are apparently silent. They usually are apparently +silent. But they know the truth--they are talking it among themselves. +And these indictments will make Victor Dorn a hero." + +"What of it? What of it?" said Hastings impatiently. "The working +people don't count." + +"Not as long as we can keep them divided," retorted Davy. "But if they +unite----" + +And he went on to explain what he had in mind. He gave them an +analysis of Remsen City. About fifty thousand inhabitants, of whom +about ten thousand were voters. These voters were divided into three +classes--upper class, with not more than three or four hundred votes, +and therefore politically of no importance AT THE POLLS, though +overwhelmingly the most influential in any other way; the middle class, +the big and little merchants, the lawyers and doctors, the agents and +firemen and so on, mustering in all about two thousand votes; finally, +the working class with no less than eight thousand votes out of a total +of ten thousand. + +"By bribery and cajolery and browbeating and appeal to religious +prejudice and to fear of losing jobs--by all sorts of chicane," said +Davy, "about seven of these eight thousand votes are kept divided +between the Republican or Kelly party and the Democratic or House +party. The other ten or twelve hundred belong to Victor Dorn's League. +Now, the seven thousand workingmen voters who follow Kelly and House +like Victor Dorn, like his ideas, are with him at heart. But they are +afraid of him. They don't trust each other. Workingmen despise the +workingman as an ignorant fool." + +"So he is," said Hastings. + +"So he is," agreed Davy. "But Victor Dorn has about got the workingmen +in this town persuaded that they'd fare better with Dorn and the League +as their leaders than with Kelly and House as their leaders. And if +Kelly goes on to persecute Victor Dorn, the workingmen will be +frightened for their rights to free speech and free assembly. And +they'll unite. I appeal to you, Jane--isn't that common sense?" + +"I don't know anything about politics," said Jane, looking bored. "You +must go in and lie down before dinner, father. You look tired." + +Hastings got ready to rise. + +"Just a minute, Mr. Hastings," pleaded Hull. "This must be settled +now--at once. I must be in a position not only to denounce this thing, +but also to stop it. Not to-morrow, but to-day ... so that the morning +papers will have the news." + +Jane's thoughts were flying--but in circles. Everybody habitually +judges everybody else as both more and less acute than he really is. +Jane had great respect for Davy as a man of college education. But +because he had no sense of humor and because he abounded in lengthy +platitudes she had thought poorly indeed of his abilities. She had +been realizing her mistake in these last few minutes. The man who had +made that analysis of politics--an analysis which suddenly enlighted +her as to what political power meant and how it was wielded everywhere +on earth as well as in Remsen City--the man was no mere dreamer and +theorist. He had seen the point no less clearly than had Victor Dorn. +But what concerned her, what set her to fluttering, was that he was +about to checkmate Victor Dorn. What should she say and do to help +Victor? + +She must get her father away. She took him gently by the arm, kissed +the top of his head. "Come on, father," she cried. "I'll let Davy work +his excitement off on me. You must take care of your health." + +But Hastings resisted. "Wait a minute, Jenny," said he. "I must +think." + +"You can think lying down," insisted his daughter Davy was about to +interpose again, but she frowned him into silence. + +"There's something in what Davy says," persisted her father. "If that +there Victor Dorn should carry the election, there'd be no living in +the same town with him. It'd put him away up out of reach." + +Jane abruptly released her father's arm. She had not thought of +that--of how much more difficult Victor would be if he won now. She +wanted him to win ultimately--yes, she was sure she did. But--now? +Wouldn't that put him beyond her reach--beyond need of her? + +She said: "Please come, father!" But it was perfunctory loyalty to +Victor. Her father settled back; Davy Hull began afresh, pressing home +his point, making his contention so clear that even Martin Hastings' +prejudice could not blind him to the truth. And Jane sat on the arm of +a big veranda chair and listened and made no further effort to +interfere. + +"I don't agree with you, Hull," said the old man at last. "Victor +Dorn's run up agin the law at last, and he ought to get the +consequences good and hard. But----" + +"Mr. Hastings," interrupted Davy eagerly--too fond of talking to +realize that the old man was agreeing with him, "Your daughter saw----" + +"Fiddle-fiddle," cried the old man. "Don't bring sentimental women +into this, Davy. As I was saying, Victor ought to be punished for the +way he's been stirring up idle, lazy, ignorant people against the men +that runs the community and gives 'em jobs and food for their children. +But maybe it ain't wise to give him his deserts--just now. Anyhow, +while you've been talking away like a sewing machine I've been +thinking. I don't see as how it can do any serious HARM to stop them +there indictments." + +"That's it, Mr. Hastings," cried Hull. "Even if I do exaggerate, as +you seem to think, still where's the harm in doing it?" + +"It looks as if the respectable people were afraid of the lower +classes," said Hastings doubtfully. "And that's always bad." + +"But it won't look that way," replied Davy, "if my plan is followed." + +"And what might be your plan?" inquired Hastings. + +"I'm to be the reform candidate for Mayor. Your son-in-law, Hugo, is +to be the reform candidate for judge. The way to handle this is for me +to come out in a strong statement denouncing the indictments, and the +injunction against the League and the New Day, too. And I'll announce +that Hugo Galland is trying to join in the fight against them and that +he is indignant and as determined as I am. Then early to-morrow +morning we can go before Judge Lansing and can present arguments, and +he will denounce the other side for misleading him as to the facts, and +will quash the indictments and vacate the injunctions." + +Hastings nodded reflectively. "Pretty good," said he with a sly grin. +"And Davy Hull and my son-in-law will be popular heroes." + +Davy reddened. "Of course. I want to get all the advantage I can for +our party," said he. "I don't represent myself. I represent the +party." + +Martin grinned more broadly. He who had been representing "honest +taxpayers" and "innocent owners" of corrupt stock and bonds all his +life understood perfectly. "It's hardly human to be as unselfish as +you and I are, Davy," said he. "Well, I'll go in and do a little +telephoning. You go ahead and draw up your statement and get it to the +papers--and see Hugo." He rose, stood leaning on his cane, all bent +and shrivelled and dry. "I reckon Judge Lansing'll be expecting you +to-morrow morning." He turned to enter the house, halted, crooked his +head round for a piercing look at young Hull. "Don't go talking round +among your friends about what you're going to do," said he sharply. +"Don't let NOBODY know until it's done." + +"Certainly, sir," said Davy. + +"I could see you hurrying down to that there University Club to sit +there and tell it all to those smarties that are always blowing about +what they're going to do. You'll be right smart of a man some day, +Davy, if you'll learn to keep your mouth shut." + +Davy looked abashed. He did not know which of his many indiscretions +of self-glorifying talkativeness Mr. Hastings had immediately in mind. +But he could recall several, any one of which was justification for the +rather savage rebuke--the more humiliating that Jane was listening. He +glanced covertly at her. + +Perhaps she had not heard; she was gazing into the distance with a +strange expression upon her beautiful face, an expression that fastened +his attention, absorbed though he was in his project for his own +ambitions. As her father disappeared, he said: + +"What are you thinking about, Jane?" + +Jane startled guiltily. "I? Oh--I don't know--a lot of things." + +"Your look suggested that you were having a--a severe attack of +conscience," said he, laughingly. He was in soaring good humor now, +for he saw his way clear to election. + +"I was," said Jane, suddenly stern. A pause, then she laughed--rather +hollowly. "Davy, I guess I'm almost as big a fraud as you are. What +fakirs we human beings are?--always posing as doing for others and +always doing for our selfish selves." + +Davy's face took on its finest expression. "Do you think it's +altogether selfishness for me to fight for Victor Dorn and give him a +chance to get out his paper again--when he has warned me that he is +going to print things that may defeat me?" + +"You know he'll not print them now," retorted Jane. + +"Indeed I don't. He's not so forbearing." + +"You know he'll not print them now," repeated Jane. "He'd not be so +foolish. Every one would forget to ask whether what he said about you +was true or false. They'd think only of how ungenerous and ungrateful +he was. He wouldn't be either. But he'd seem to be--and that comes to +the same thing." She glanced mockingly at Hull. "Isn't that your +calculation?" + +"You are too cynical for a woman, Jane," said Davy. "It's not +attractive." + +"To your vanity?" retorted Jane. "I should think not." + +"Well--good-by," said Davy, taking his hat from the rail. "I've got a +hard evening's work before me. No time for dinner." + +"Another terrible sacrifice for public duty," mocked Jane. + +"You must be frightfully out of humor with yourself, to be girding at +me so savagely," said Davy. + +"Good-by, Mr. Mayor." + +"I shall be--in six weeks." + +Jane's face grew sombre. "Yes--I suppose so," said she. "The people +would rather have one of us than one of their own kind. They do look up +to us, don't they? It's ridiculous of them, but they do. The idea of +choosing you, when they might have Victor Dorn." + +"He isn't running for Mayor," objected Hull. "The League's candidate +is Harbinger, the builder." + +"No, it's Victor Dorn," said Jane. "The best man in a party--the +strongest man--is always the candidate for all the offices. I don't +know much about politics, but I've learned that much.... It's Victor +Dorn against--Dick Kelly--or Kelly and father." + +Hull reddened. She had cut into quick. "You will see who is Mayor +when I'm elected," said he with all his dignity. + +Jane laughed in the disagreeably mocking way that was the climax of her +ability to be nasty when she was thoroughly out of humor. "That's +right, Davy. Deceive yourself. It's far more comfortable. So long!" + +And she went into the house. + + +Davy's conduct of the affair was masterly. He showed those rare +qualities of judgment and diplomacy that all but insure a man a +distinguished career. His statement for the press was a model of +dignity, of restrained indignation, of good common sense. The most +difficult part of his task was getting Hugo Galland into condition for +a creditable appearance in court. In so far as Hugo's meagre +intellect, atrophied by education and by luxury, permitted him to be a +lawyer at all, he was of that now common type called the corporation +lawyer. That is, for him human beings had ceased to exist, and of +course human rights, also; the world as viewed from the standpoint of +law contained only corporations, only interests. Thus, a man like +Victor Dorn was in his view the modern form of the devil--was a +combination of knave and lunatic who had no right to live except in the +restraint of an asylum or a jail. + +Fortunately, while Hugo despised the "hoi polloi" as only a stupid, +miseducated snob can despise, he appreciated that they had votes and so +must be conciliated; and he yearned with the snob's famished yearning +for the title and dignity of judge. Davy found it impossible to +convince him that the injunctions and indictments ought to be attacked +until he had convinced him that in no other way could he become Judge +Galland. As Hugo was fiercely prejudiced and densely stupid and +reverent of the powers of his own intellect, to convince him was not +easy. In fact, Davy did not begin to succeed until he began to suggest +that whoever appeared before Judge Lansing the next morning in defense +of free speech would be the Alliance and Democratic and Republican +candidate for judge, and that if Hugo couldn't see his way clear to +appearing he might as well give up for the present his political +ambitions. + +Hugo came round. Davy left him at one o'clock in the morning and went +gloomily home. He had known what a prejudiced ass Galland was, how +unfit he was for the office of judge; but he had up to that time hidden +the full truth from himself. Now, to hide it was impossible. Hugo had +fully exposed himself in all his unfitness of the man of narrow upper +class prejudices, the man of no instinct or enthusiasm for right, +justice and liberty. "Really, it's a crime to nominate such a chap as +that," he muttered. "Yet we've got to do it. How Selma Gordon's eyes +would shame me, if she could see me now!" + +Davy had the familiar fondness for laying on the secret penitential +scourge--wherewith we buy from our complacent consciences license to +indulge in the sins our appetites or ambitions crave. + +Judge Lansing--you have never seen a man who LOOKED the judge more +ideally than did gray haired, gray bearded, open browed Robert +Lansing--Judge Lansing was all ready for his part in the farce. He +knew Hugo and helped him over the difficult places and cut him short as +soon as he had made enough of his speech to give an inkling of what he +was demanding. The Judge was persuaded to deliver himself of a +high-minded and eloquent denunciation of those who had misled the court +and the county prosecutor. He pointed out--in weighty judicial +language--that Victor Dorn had by his conduct during several years +invited just such a series of calamities as had beset him. But he went +on to say that Dorn's reputation and fondness for speech and action +bordering on the lawless did not withdraw from him the protection of +the law. In spite of himself the law would protect him. The +injunctions were dissolved and the indictments were quashed. + +The news of the impending application, published in the morning papers, +had crowded the court room. When the Judge finished a tremendous cheer +went up. The cheer passed on to the throng outside, and when Davy and +Hugo appeared in the corridor they were borne upon the shoulders of +workingmen and were not released until they had made speeches. Davy's +manly simplicity and clearness covered the stammering vagueness of hero +Galland. + +As Davy was gradually clearing himself of the eager handshakers and +back-slappers, Selma suddenly appeared before him. Her eyes were +shining and her whole body seemed to be irradiating emotion of +admiration and gratitude. "Thank you--oh, thank you!" she said, +pressing his hand. "How I have misjudged you!" + +Davy did not wince. He had now quite forgotten the part selfish +ambition had played in his gallant rush to the defense of imperilled +freedom--had forgotten it as completely as the now ecstatic Hugo had +forgotten his prejudices against the "low, smelly working people." He +looked as exalted as he felt. "I only did my plain duty," replied he. +"How could any decent American have done less?" + +"I haven't seen Victor since yesterday afternoon," pursued Selma. "But +I know how grateful he'll be--not so much for what you did as that YOU +did it." + +The instinct of the crowd--the universal human instinct--against +intruding upon a young man and young woman talking together soon +cleared them of neighbors. An awkward silence fell. Said he +hesitatingly: + +"Are you ready to give your answer?--to that question I asked you the +other day." + +"I gave you my answer then," replied she, her glance seeking a way of +escape. + +"No," said he. "For you said then that you would not marry me. And I +shall never take no for an answer until you have married some one else." + +She looked up at him with eyes large and grave and puzzled. "I'm sure +you don't want to marry me," she said. "I wonder why you keep asking +me." + +"I have to be honest with you," said Davy. "Somehow you bring out all +the good there is in me. So, I can't conceal anything from you. In a +way I don't want to marry you. You're not at all the woman I have +always pictured as the sort I ought to marry and would marry. +But--Selma, I love you. I'd give up anything--even my career--to get +you. When I'm away from you I seem to regain control of myself. But +just as soon as I see you, I'm as bad as ever again." + +"Then we mustn't see each other," said she. + +Suddenly she nodded, laughed up at him and darted away--and Hugo +Galland, long since abandoned by the crowd, had seized him by the arm. + +Selma debated whether to take Victor the news or to continue her walk. +She decided for the walk. She had been feeling peculiarly toward +Victor since the previous afternoon. She had not gone back in the +evening, but had sent an excuse by one of the Leaguers. It was plain +to her that Jane Hastings was up to mischief, and she had begun to +fear--sacrilegious though she felt it to be to harbor such a +suspicion--that there was man enough, weak, vain, susceptible man +enough, in Victor Dorn to make Jane a danger. The more she had thought +about Jane and her environment, the clearer it had become that there +could be no permanent and deep sincerity in Jane's aspirations after +emancipation from her class. It was simply the old, old story of a +woman of the upper class becoming infatuated with a man of a genuine +kind of manhood rarely found in the languor-producing surroundings of +her own class. Would Victor yield? No! her loyalty indignantly +answered. But he might allow this useless idler to hamper him, to +weaken his energies for the time--and during a critical period. + +She did not wish to see Victor again until she should have decided what +course to take. To think at her ease she walked out Monroe Avenue on +her way to the country. It was a hot day, but walking along in the +beautiful shade Selma felt no discomfort, except a slight burning of +the eyes from the fierce glare of the white highway. In the distance +she heard the sound of an engine. + +A few seconds, and past her at high speed swept an automobile. Its +heavy flying wheels tore up the roadway, raised an enormous cloud of +dust. The charm of the walk was gone; the usefulness of roadway and +footpaths was destroyed for everybody for the fifteen or twenty minutes +that it would take for the mass of dust to settle--on the foliage, in +the grass, on the bodies and clothing of passers-by and in their lungs. +Selma halted and gazed after the auto. Who was tearing along at this +mad speed? Who was destroying the comfort of all using that road, and +annoying them and making the air unfit to breathe! Why, an idle, +luxuriously dressed woman, not on an errand of life or death, but going +down town to amuse herself shopping or calling. + +The dust had not settled before a second auto, having a young man and +young woman apparently on the way to play tennis, rushed by, swirling +up even vaster clouds of dust and all but colliding with a baby +carriage a woman was trying to push across the street. Selma's blood +was boiling! The infamy of it! These worthless idlers! What utter +lack of manners, of consideration for their fellow beings. A GENTLEMAN +and a LADY insulting and bullying everyone who happened not to have an +automobile. Then--she laughed. The ignorant, stupid masses! They +deserved to be treated thus contemptuously, for they could stop it if +they would. "Some day we shall learn," philosophized she. "Then these +brutalities of men toward each other, these brutalities big and little, +will cease." This matter of the insulting automobiles, with insolent +horns and criminal folly of speed and hurling dust at passers-by, worse +than if the occupants had spat upon them in passing--this matter was a +trifle beside the hideous brutalities of men compelling masses of their +fellow beings, children no less than grown people, to toil at things +killing soul, mind and body simply in order that fortunes might be +made! THERE was lack of consideration worth thinking about. + +Three more autos passed--three more clouds of dust, reducing Selma to +extreme physical discomfort. Her philosophy was severely strained. +She was in the country now; but even there she was pursued by these +insolent and insulting hunters of pleasure utterly indifferent to the +comfort of their fellows. And when a fourth auto passed, bearing Jane +Hastings in a charming new dress and big, becoming hat--Selma, eyes and +throat full of dust and face and neck and hands streaked and dirty, +quite lost her temper. Jane spoke; she turned her head away, +pretending not to see! + +Presently she heard an auto coming at a less menacing pace from the +opposite direction. It drew up to the edge of the road abreast of her. +"Selma," called Jane. + +Selma paused, bent a frowning and angry countenance upon Jane. + +Jane opened the door of the limousine, descended, said to her +chauffeur: "Follow us, please." She advanced to Selma with a timid +and deprecating smile. "You'll let me walk with you?" she said. + +"I am thinking out a very important matter," replied Selma, with frank +hostility. "I prefer not to be interrupted." + +"Selma!" pleaded Jane. "What have I done to turn you against me?" + +Selma stood, silent, incarnation of freedom and will. She looked +steadily at Jane. "You haven't done anything," she replied. "On +impulse I liked you. On sober second thought I don't. That's all." + +"You gave me your friendship," said Jane. "You've no right to withdraw +it without telling me why." + +"You are not of my class. You are of the class that is at war with +mine--at war upon it. When you talk of friendship to me, you are +either false to your own people or false in your professions to me." + +Selma's manner was rudely offensive--as rude as Jane's dust, to which +it was perhaps a retort. Jane showed marvelous restraint. She told +herself that she felt compassionate toward this attractive, honest, +really nice girl. It is possible, however, that an instinct of +prudence may have had something to do with her ultra-conciliatory +attitude toward the dusty little woman in the cheap linen dress. The +enmity of one so near to Victor Dorn was certainly not an advantage. +Instead of flaring up, Jane said: + +"Now, Selma--do be human--do be your sweet, natural self. It isn't my +fault that I am what I am. And you know that I really belong heart and +soul with you." + +"Then come with us," said Selma. "If you think the life you lead is +foolish--why, stop leading it." + +"You know I can't," said Jane mournfully. + +"I know you could," retorted Selma. "Don't be a hypocrite, Jane." + +"Selma--how harsh you are!" cried Jane. + +"Either come with us or keep away from us," said the girl inflexibly. +"You may deceive yourself--and men--with that talk of broad views and +high aspirations. But you can't deceive another woman." + +"I'm not trying to deceive anybody," exclaimed Jane angrily. "Permit me +to say, Selma, that your methods won't make many converts to your +cause." + +"Who ever gave you the idea that we were seeking converts in your +class?" inquired Selma. "Our whole object is to abolish your +class--and end its drain upon us--and its bad example--and make its +members useful members of our class, and more contented and happier +than they are now." She laughed--a free and merry laugh, but not +pleasant in Jane's ears. "The idea of US trying to induce young ladies +and young gentlemen with polished finger nails to sit round in +drawing-rooms talking patronizingly of doing something for the masses! +You've got a very queer notion of us, my dear Miss Hastings." + +Jane's eyes were flashing. "Selma, there's a devil in you to-day. +What is it?" she demanded. + +"There's a great deal of dust from your automobile in me and on me," +said Selma. "I congratulate you on your good manners in rushing about +spattering and befouling your fellow beings and threatening their +lives." + +Jane colored and lowered her head. "I--I never thought of that +before," she said humbly. + +Selma's anger suddenly dissolved. "I'm ashamed of myself," she cried. +"Forgive me." + +What she had said about the automobile had made an instant deep +impression upon Jane, who was honestly trying to live up to her +aspirations--when she wasn't giving up the effort as hopelessly beyond +her powers and trying to content herself with just aspiring. She was +not hypocritical in her contrition. The dust disfiguring the foliage, +streaking Selma's face and hair, was forcing the lesson in manners +vigorously home. "I'm much obliged to you for teaching me what I ought +to have learned for myself," she said. "I don't blame you for scorning +me. I am a pretty poor excuse. But"--with her most charming +smile--"I'll do better--all the faster if you'll help me." + +Selma looked at her with a frank, dismayed contrition, like a child +that realizes it has done something very foolish. "Oh, I'm so horribly +impulsive!" she cried. "It's always getting me into trouble. You +don't know how I try Victor Dorn's patience--though he never makes the +least sign." She laughed up at Jane. "I wish you'd give me a +whipping. I'd feel lots better." + +"It'd take some of my dust off you," said Jane. "Let me take you to +the house in the auto--you'll never see it going at that speed again, I +promise. Come to the house and I'll dust you off--and we'll go for a +walk in the woods." + +Selma felt that she owed it to Jane to accept. As they were climbing +the hill in the auto, Selma said: + +"My, how comfortable this is! No wonder the people that have autos +stop exercising and get fat and sick and die. I couldn't trust myself +with one." + +"It's a daily fight," confessed Jane. "If I were married and didn't +have to think about my looks and my figure I'm afraid I'd give up." + +"Victor says the only time one ought ever to ride in a carriage is to +his own funeral." + +"He's down on show and luxury of every kind--isn't he?" said Jane. + +"No, indeed," replied Selma. "Victor isn't 'down on' anything. He +thinks show and luxury are silly. He could be rich if he wished, for +he has wonderful talent for managing things and for making money. He +has refused some of the most wonderful offers--wonderful in that way. +But he thinks money-making a waste of time. He has all he wants, and +he says he'd as soon think of eating a second dinner when he'd just had +one as of exchanging time that could be LIVED for a lot of foolish +dollars." + +"And he meant it, too," said Jane. "In some men that would sound like +pretense. But not in him. What a mind he has--and what a character!" + +Selma was abruptly overcast and ominously silent. She wished she had +not been turned so far by her impulse of penitence--wished she had held +to the calm and deliberate part of her resolve about Jane--the part +that involved keeping aloof from her. However, Jane, the +tactful--hastened to shift the conversation to generalities of the +softest kinds--talked about her college life--about the inane and +useless education they had given her--drew Selma out to talk about her +own education--in the tenement--in the public school, at night school, +in factory and shop. Not until they had been walking in the woods +nearly two hours and Selma was about to go home, did Victor, about whom +both were thinking all the time, come into the conversation again. It +was Jane who could no longer keep away from the subject--the one +subject that wholly interested her nowadays. Said she: + +"Victor Dorn is REALLY almost well, you think?" + +After a significant pause Selma said in a tone that was certainly not +encouraging, "Obviously." + +"I was altogether wrong about Doctor Charlton," said Jane. "I'm +convinced now that he's the only really intelligent doctor in town. +I'm trying to persuade father to change to him." + +"Well, good-by," said Selma. She was eager to get away, for she +suddenly felt that Jane was determined to talk about Victor before +letting her go. + +"You altered toward me when I made that confession--the night of the +riot," said Jane abruptly. "Are you in love with him, too?" + +"No," said Selma. + +"I don't see how you could help being," cried Jane. + +"That's because you don't know what it is to be busy," retorted Selma. +"Love--what you call love--is one of the pastimes with your sort of +people. It's a lazy, easy way of occupying the thoughts." + +"You don't know me as well as you think you do," said Jane. Her +expression fascinated Selma--and made her more afraid than ever. + +Impulsively Selma took Jane by the arm. "Keep away from us," she said. +"You will do no good. You can only cause unhappiness--perhaps most of +all to yourself." + +"Don't I know that!" exclaimed Jane. "I'm fighting it as hard as I +can. But how little control one has over oneself when one has always +been indulged and self-indulgent." + +"The man for you is David Hull," said Selma. + +"You could help him--could make a great deal of a person out of him." + +"I know it," replied Jane. "But I don't want him, and he--perhaps you +didn't know that he is in love with you?" + +"No more than you are with Victor Dorn," said Selma. "I'm different +from the women he has known, just as Victor is different from the men +you meet in your class. But this is a waste of time." + +"You don't believe in me at all," cried Jane. "In some ways you are +very unjust and narrow, Selma." + +Selma looked at her in that grave way which seemed to compel frankness. +"Do YOU believe in yourself?" she asked. + +Jane's glance shifted. + +"You know you do not," proceeded Selma. "The women of your class +rarely have sincere emotions because they do not lead sincere lives. +Part of your imaginary love for Victor Dorn is desire to fill up idle +hours. The rest of it is vanity--the desire to show your power over a +man who seems to be woman-proof." She laughed a little, turned away, +paused. "My mother used to quote a French proverb--'One cannot trifle +with love.' Be careful, Jane--for your own sake. I don't know whether +you could conquer Victor Dorn or not. But I do know IF you could +conquer him it would be only at the usual price of those conquests to a +woman." + +"And what is that?" said Jane. + +"Your own complete surrender," said Selma. + +"How wise you are!" laughed Jane. "Who would have suspected you of +knowing so much!" + +"How could I--a woman--and not unattractive to men--grow up to be +twenty-one years old, in the free life of a working woman, without +learning all there is to know about sex relations?" + +Jane looked at her with a new interest. + +"And," she went on, "I've learned--not by experience, I'm glad to say, +but by observation--that my mother's proverb is true. I shall not +think about love until I am compelled to. That is a peril a sensible +person does not seek." + +"I did not seek it," cried Jane--and then she halted and flushed. + +"Good-by, Jane," said Selma, waving her hand and moving away rapidly. +She called back--"On ne badine pas avec l'amour!" + +She went straight to Colman's cottage--to Victor, lying very pale with +his eyes shut, and big Tom Colman sitting by his bed. There was a +stillness in the room that Selma felt was ominous. Victor's +hand--strong, well-shaped, useful-looking, used-looking--not +ABUSED-looking, but USED-looking-was outside the covers upon the white +counterpane. The fingers were drumming softly; Selma knew that +gesture--a certain sign that Victor was troubled in mind. + +"You've told him," said Selma to Colman as she paused in the doorway. + +Victor turned his head quickly, opened his eyes, gave her a look of +welcome that made her thrill with pride. "Oh--there you are!" he +exclaimed. "I was hoping you'd come." + +"I saw David Hull just after it was done," said Selma. "And I thanked +him for you." + +Victor's eyes had a look of amusement, of mockery. "Thank you," he +said. + +She, the sensitive, was on the alert at once. "Didn't you want me to +thank him?" + +Victor did not answer. In the same amused way he went on: "So they +carried him on their shoulders--him and that other defender of the +rights of the people, Hugo Galland? I should like to have seen. It +was a memorable spectacle." + +"You are laughing at it," exclaimed the girl. "Why?" + +"You certainly are taking the news very queer, Victor," said Colman. +Then to Selma, "When I told him he got white and I thought I'd have to +send for Doctor Charlton." + +"Well--joy never kills," said Victor mockingly. "I don't want to keep +you, Tom--Selma'll sit with me." + +When they were alone, Victor again closed his eyes and resumed that +silent drumming upon the counterpane. Selma watched the restless +fingers as if she hoped they would disclose to her the puzzling secret +of Victor's thoughts. But she did not interrupt. + +That was one lesson in restraint that Victor had succeeded in teaching +her--never to interrupt. At last he heaved a great sigh and said: + +"Well, Selma, old girl--we've probably lost again. I was glad you came +because I wanted to talk--and I can't say what's in my mind before dear +old Tom--or any of them but my sister and you." + +"You didn't want those injunctions and indictments out of the way?" +said Selma. + +"If they had stood, we'd have won--in a walk," replied Victor. "As the +cards lie now, David Hull will win. And he'll make a pretty good show +mayor, probably--good enough to fool a large majority of our fellow +citizens, who are politically as shallow and credulous as nursery +children. And so--our work of educating them will be the harder and +slower. Oh, these David Hulls!--these good men who keep their mantles +spotless in order to make them the more useful as covers for the dirty +work of others!" Suddenly his merry smile burst out. "And they carried +Hugo Galland on their shoulders?" + +"Then you don't think Hull's motives were honorable?" inquired Selma, +perplexed and anxious. + +"How could I know his motives?--any man's motives?" replied Victor. +"No one can read men's hearts. All I ever consider is actions. And +the result of his actions is probably the defeat of the League and the +election of Dick Kelly." + +"I begin to understand," said Selma thoughtfully. "But--I do believe +his motive was altogether good." + +"My dear girl," said Victor, "the primer lesson in the life of action +is: 'Never--NEVER look at motives. Action--only actions--always +actions.' The chief reason the human race is led patiently round by +the nose is its fondness for fussing about motives. We are interested +only in men's actions and the results to our cause. Davy Hull's +motives concern only himself--and those who care for him." Victor's +eyes, twinkling mischievously, shot a shrewd glance at Selma. "You're +not by any chance in love with Davy?" + +Selma colored high. "Certainly not!" she exclaimed indignantly. + +"Why not? Why not?" teased Victor. "He's tall and handsome--and +superbly solemn--and women always fancy a solemn man has intellect and +character. Not that Davy is a fool--by no means. I'd be the last man +to say that--I whom he has just cleverly checkmated in one move." + +"You intended not to give bail! You intended to go to jail!" exclaimed +Selma abruptly. "I see it all! How stupid I was! Oh, I could cry, +Victor! What a chance." + +"Spilt milk," said Victor. "We must forget it, and plan to meet the +new conditions. We'll start the paper at once. We can't attack him. +Very clever of him--very clever! If he were as brave as he is shrewd, +I'd almost give up hope of winning this town while he was in politics +here. But he lacks courage. And he daren't think and speak honestly. +How that does cripple a man!" + +"He'll be one of us before very long," said Selma. "You misjudge him, +Victor." + +Dorn smiled. "Not so long as his own class gratifies his ambitions," +replied Victor. "If he came with us it'd be because his own class had +failed him and he hoped to rise through and upon--ours." + +Selma did not agree with him. But as she always felt presumptuous and +even foolish in disagreeing with Victor, she kept silent. And +presently Victor began to lay out her share in the task of starting up +the New Day. "I shall be all right within a week," said he, "and we +must get the first number out the week following." She was realizing +now that Hull's move had completely upset an elaborate plan of campaign +into which Victor had put all his intelligence and upon which he had +staked all his hopes. She marvelled as he talked, unfolding rapidly an +entirely new campaign, different in every respect from what the other +would have been. How swiftly his mind had worked, and how well! How +little time he had wasted in vain regrets! How quickly he had +recovered from a reverse that would have halted many a strong man. + +And then she remembered how they all, his associates, were like him, +proof against the evil effects of set-back and defeat. And why were +they so? Because Victor Dorn had trained them to fight for the cause, +and not for victory. "Our cause is the right, and in the end right is +bound to win because the right is only another name for the +sensible"--that had been his teaching. And a hardy army he had +trained. The armies trained by victory are strong; but the armies +schooled by defeat--they are invincible. + +When he had explained his new campaign--as much of it as he deemed it +wise at that time to withdraw from the security of his own brain--she +said: + +"But it seems to me we've got a good chance to win, anyhow." + +"A chance, perhaps," replied he. "But we'll not bother about that. +All we've got to do is to keep on strengthening ourselves." + +"Yes, that's it!" she cried. "One added here--five there--ten yonder. +Every new stone fitted solidly against the ones already in place." + +"We must never forget that we aren't merely building a new party," said +Dorn. "We're building a new civilization--one to fit the new +conditions of life. Let the Davy Hulls patch and tinker away at trying +to keep the old structure from falling in. We know it's bound to fall +and that it isn't fit for decent civilized human beings to live in. +And we're getting the new house ready. So--to us, election day is no +more important than any of the three hundred and sixty-five." + + +It was into the presence of a Victor Dorn restored in mind as well as +in body that Jane Hastings was shown by his sister, Mrs. Sherrill, one +afternoon a week or so later. + +All that time Jane had been searching for an excuse for going to see +him. She had haunted the roads and the woods where he and Selma +habitually walked. She had seen neither of them. When the pretext for +a call finally came to her, as usual, the most obvious thing in the +world. He must be suspecting her of having betrayed his confidence and +brought about the vacating of those injunctions and the quashing of the +indictments. She must go to him and clear herself of suspicion. + +She felt that the question of how she should dress for this crucial +interview, this attempt to establish some sort of friendly relations +with him, was of the very highest importance. Should she wear something +plain, something that would make her look as nearly as might be like +one of his own class? HIS class! + +No--no, indeed. The class in which he was accidentally born and bred, +but to which he did not belong. Or, should she go dressed frankly as +of her own class--wearing the sort of things that made her look her +finest and most superior and most beautiful? Having nothing else to do, +she spent several hours in trying various toilets. She was not long in +deciding against disguising herself as a working woman. That garb +might win his mental and moral approval; but not by mental and moral +ways did women and men prevail with each other. In plain garb--so Jane +decided, as she inspected herself--she was no match for Selma Gordon; +she looked awkward, out of her element. So much being settled, there +remained to choose among her various toilets. She decided for an +embroidered white summer dress, extremely simple, but in the way that +costs beyond the power of any but the very rich to afford. When she was +ready to set forth, she had never looked so well in her life. Her +toilet SEEMED a mere detail. In fact, it was some such subtlety as +those arrangements of lines and colors in great pictures, whereby the +glance of the beholder is unconsciously compelled toward the central +figure, just as water in a funnel must go toward the aperture at the +bottom. Jane felt, not without reason, that she had executed a stroke +of genius. She was wearing nothing that could awaken Victor Dorn's +prejudices about fine clothes, for he must have those prejudices. Yet +she was dressed in conformity with all that centuries, ages of +experience, have taught the dressmaking art on the subject of feminine +allure. And, when a woman feels that she is so dressed, her natural +allure becomes greatly enhanced. + +She drove down to a point in Monroe Avenue not far from the house where +Victor and his family lived. The day was hot; boss-ridden Remsen City +had dusty and ragged streets and sidewalks. It, therefore, would not +do to endanger the freshness of the toilet. But she would arrive as if +she had come all the way on foot. Arrival in a motor at so humble a +house would look like ostentation; also, if she were seen going through +that street afoot, people would think she was merely strolling a little +out of her way to view the ruins of the buildings set on fire by the +mob. She did pause to look at these ruins; the air of the neighborhood +still had a taint of burnt wood and paper. Presently, when she was sure +the street was clear of people of the sort who might talk--she hastily +entered the tiny front yard of Victor's house, and was pleased to find +herself immediately screened from the street by the luxuriant bushes +and creepers. + +There was nothing in the least pretentious about the appearance of the +little house. It was simply a well built cottage--but of brick, +instead of the usual wood, and the slate roof descended at attractive +angles. The door she was facing was superior to the usual +flimsy-looking door. Indeed, she at once became conscious of a highly +attractive and most unexpected air of substantiality and good taste. +The people who lived here seemed to be permanent people--long resident, +and looking forward to long residence. She had never seen such +beautiful or such tastefully grouped sun flowers, and the dahlias and +marigolds were far above the familiar commonplace kitchen garden +flowers. + +The door opened, and a handsome, extremely intelligent looking woman, +obviously Victor's sister, was looking pleasantly at her. Said she: +"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting. But I was busy in the kitchen. +This is Miss Hastings, isn't it?" + +"Yes," said Jane, smiling friendlily. + +"I've heard my brother and Selma talk of you." (Jane wondered WHAT +they had said.) "You wish to see Victor?" + +"If I'd not be interrupting," said Jane. + +"Come right in. He's used to being interrupted. They don't give him +five minutes to himself all day long--especially now that the +campaign's on. He always does his serious work very early in the +morning." + +They went through a hall, pleasantly odorous of baking in which good +flour and good butter and good eggs were being manufactured into +something probably appetizing, certainly wholesome. Jane caught a +glimpse through open doors on either side of a neat and reposeful +little library-sitting room, a plain delightfully simple little +bedroom, a kitchen where everything shone. She arrived at the rear +door somehow depressed, bereft of the feeling of upper-class +superiority which had, perhaps unconsciously, possessed her as she came +toward the house. At the far end of an arbor on which the grape vines +were so trellised that their broad leaves cast a perfect shade, sat +Victor writing at a table under a tree. He was in his shirt sleeves, +and his shirt was open at the throat. His skin was smooth and +healthily white below the collar line. The forearms exposed by his +rolled up sleeves were strong but slender, and the faint fair hair upon +them suggested a man, but not an animal. + +Never had she seen his face and head so fine. He was writing rapidly, +his body easily erect, his head and neck in a poise of grace and +strength. Jane grew pale and trembled--so much so that she was afraid +the keen, friendly eyes of Alice Sherrill were seeing. Said Mrs. +Sherrill, raising her voice: + +"Victor--here's Miss Hastings come to see you." Then to Jane: "Excuse +me, please. I don't dare leave that kitchen long." + +She departed. Jane waited while Victor, his pencil reluctantly +slackening and his glance lingeringly rising from the paper, came back +to sense of his surroundings. He stared at her blankly, then colored a +little. He rose--stiff, for him formal. Said he: + +"How d'you do, Miss Hastings?" + +She came down the arbor, recovering her assurance as she again became +conscious of herself, so charmingly dressed and no doubt beautiful in +his eyes. "I know you're not glad to see me," said she. "But I'm only +stopping a very little minute." + +His eyes had softened--softened under the influence of the emotion no +man can ever fail to feel at least in some degree at sight of a lovely +woman. "Won't you sit?" said he, with a glance at the wooden chair +near the other side of the table. + +She seated herself, resting one gloved hand on the prettily carved end +of her white-sunshade. She was wearing a big hat of rough black straw, +with a few very gorgeous white plumes. "What a delightful place to +work," exclaimed she, looking round, admiring the flowers, the slow +ripening grapes, the delicious shade. "And you--how WELL you look!" + +"I've forgotten I was ever anything but well," said he. + +"You're impatient for me to go," she cried laughing. "It's very rude +to show it so plainly." + +"No," replied he. "I am not impatient for you to go. But I ought to +be, for I'm very busy." + +"Well, I shall be gone in a moment. I came only to tell you that you +are suspecting me wrongly." + +"Suspecting you?--of what?" + +"Of having broken my word. I know you must think I got father to set +Davy Hull on to upsetting your plans." + +"The idea never entered my head," said he. "You had promised--and I +know you are honest." + +Jane colored violently and lowered her eyes. "I'm not--not up to what +you say," she protested. "But at least I didn't break my promise. +Davy thought of that himself." + +"I have been assuming so." + +"And you didn't suspect me?" + +"Not for an instant," Victor assured her. "Davy simply made the move +that was obviously best for him." + +"And now he will be elected," said Jane regretfully. + +"It looks that way," replied Victor. And he had the air of one who has +nothing more to say. + +Suddenly Jane looked at him with eyes shining and full of appeal. + +"Don't send me away so quickly," she pleaded. "I've not been telling +the exact truth. I came only partly because I feared you were +suspecting me. The real reason was that--that I couldn't stay away any +longer. I know you're not in the least interested in me----" + +She was watching him narrowly for signs of contradiction. She hoped +she had not watched in vain. + +"Why should you be?" she went on. "But ever since you opened my eyes +and set me to thinking, I can do nothing but think about the things you +have said to me, and long to come to you and ask you questions and hear +more." + +Victor was staring hard into the wall of foliage. His face was set. +She thought she had never seen anything so resolute, so repelling as +the curve of his long jaw bone. + +"I'll go now," she said, making a pretended move toward rising. + +"I've no right to annoy you." + +He stood up abruptly, without looking at her. "Yes, you'd better go," +he said curtly. + +She quivered--and it was with a pang of genuine pain. + +His gaze was not so far from her as it seemed. For he must have noted +her expression, since he said hurriedly: "I beg your pardon. It isn't +that I mean to be rude. I--I--it is best that I do not see you." + +She sank back in the chair with a sigh. "And I--I know that I ought to +keep away from you. But--I can't. It's too strong for me." + +He looked at her slowly. "I have made up my mind to put you out of my +head," he said. "And I shall." + +"Don't!" she cried. "Victor--don't!" + +He sat again, rested his forearms upon the table, leaned toward her. +"Look at me," he said. + +She slowly lifted her gaze to his, met it steadily. "I thought so, +Victor," she said tenderly. "I knew I couldn't care so much unless you +cared at least a little ." + +"Do I?" said he. "I don't know. I doubt if either of us is in love +with the other. Certainly, you are not the sort of woman I could +love--deeply love. What I feel for you is the sort of thing that +passes. It is violent while it lasts, but it passes." + +"I don't care!" cried she recklessly. "Whatever it is I want it!" + +He shook his head resolutely. "No," he said. "You don't want it, and +I don't want it. I know the kind of life you've mapped out for +yourself--as far as women of your class map out anything. It's the only +kind of life possible to you. And it's of a kind with which I could, +and would, have nothing to do." + +"Why do you say that?" protested she. "You could make of me what you +pleased." + +"No," said he. "I couldn't make a suit of overalls out of a length of +silk. Anyhow, I have made up my life with love and marriage left out. +They are excellent things for some people, for most people. But not +for me. I must be free, absolutely free. Free to think only of the +cause I've enlisted in, free to do what it commands." + +"And I?" she said with tremendous life. "What is to become of me, +Victor?" + +He laughed quietly. "You are going to keep away from me--find some one +else to amuse your leisure. That's what's going to become of you, Jane +Hastings." + +She winced and quivered again. "That--hurts," she said. + +"Your vanity? Yes. I suppose it does. But those wounds are +healthful--when the person is as sensible as you are." + +"You think I am not capable of caring! You think I am vain and shallow +and idle. You refuse me all right to live, simply because I happen to +live in surroundings you don't approve of." + +"I'm not such an egotistical ass as to imagine a woman of your sort +could be genuinely in love with a man of my sort," replied he. "So, +I'll see to it that we keep away from each other. I don't wish to be +tempted to do you mischief." + +She looked at him inquiringly. + +But he did not explain. He said: "And you are going now. And we +shall not meet again except by accident." + +She gave a sigh of hopelessness. "I suppose I have lowered myself in +your eyes by being so frank--by showing and speaking what I felt," she +said mournfully. + +"Not in the least," rejoined he. "A man who is anybody or has anything +soon gets used to frankness in women. I could hardly have gotten past +thirty, in a more or less conspicuous position, without having had some +experience.... and without learning not to attach too much importance +to--to frankness in women." + +She winced again. "You wouldn't say those things if you knew how they +hurt," she said. "If I didn't care for you, could I sit here and let +you laugh at me?" + +"Yes, you could," answered he. "Hoping somehow or other to turn the +laugh upon me later on. But really I was not laughing at you. And you +can spare yourself the effort of convincing me that you're sincere." +He was frankly laughing at her now. "You don't understand the +situation--not at all. You fancy that I am hanging back because I am +overwhelmed or shy or timid. I assure you I've never been shy or timid +about anything I wanted. If I wanted you--I'd--TAKE you." + +She caught her breath and shrank. Looking at him as he said that, +calmly and confidently, she, for the first time, was in love--and was +afraid. Back to her came Selma's warnings: "One may not trifle with +love. A woman conquers only by surrender." + +"But, as I said to you a while ago," he went on, "I don't want you--or +any woman. I've no time for marriage--no time for a flirtation. And +though you tempt me strongly, I like you too well to--to treat you as +you invite." + +Jane sat motionless, stunned by the sudden turning of the tables. + +She who had come to conquer--to amuse herself, to evoke a strong, +hopeless passion that would give her a delightful sense of warmth as +she stood safely by its bright flames--she had been conquered. + +She belonged to this man; all he had to do was to claim her. + +In a low voice, sweet and sincere beyond any that had ever come from +her lips before, she said: + +"Anything, Victor--anything--but don't send me away." + +And he, seeing and hearing, lost his boasted self-control. "Go--go," he +cried harshly. "If you don't go----" He came round the table, seizing +her as she rose, kissed her upon the lips, upon the eyes. "You are +lovely--lovely!" he murmured. "And I who can't have flowers on my table +or in sight when I've got anything serious to do--I love your perfume +and your color and the wonderful softness of you----" + +He pushed her away. "Now--will you go?" he cried. + +His eyes were flashing. And she was trembling from head to foot. + +She was gazing at him with a fascinated expression. "I understand what +you meant when you warned me to go," she said. "I didn't believe it, +but it was so." + +"Go--I tell you!" he ordered. + +"It's too late," said she. "You can't send me away now--for you have +kissed me. If I'm in your power, you're in my power, too." + +Moved by the same impulse both looked up the arbor toward the rear door +of the house. There stood Selma Gordon, regarding them with an +expression of anger as wild as the blood of the steppes that flowed in +her veins. Victor, with what composure he could master, put out his +hand in farewell to Jane. He had been too absorbed in the emotions +raging between him and her to note Selma's expression. But Jane, the +woman, had seen. As she shook hands with Victor, she said neither high +nor low: + +"Selma knows that I care. I told her the night of the riot." + +"Good-by," said Victor in a tone she thought it wise not to dispute. + +"I'll be in the woods above the park at ten tomorrow," she said in an +undertone. Then to Selma, unsmilingly: "You're not interrupting. I'm +going." Selma advanced. The two girls looked frank hostility into +each other's eyes. Jane did not try to shake hands with her. With a +nod and a forced smile of conventional friendliness upon her lips, she +passed her and went through the house and into the street. + +She lingered at the gate, opening and closing it in a most leisurely +fashion--a significantly different exit from her furtive and ashamed +entrance. Love and revolt were running high and hot in her veins. She +longed openly to defy the world--her world. + + + +VII + +Impulse was the dominant strain in Selma Gordon's character--impulse +and frankness. But she was afraid of Victor Dorn as we all are afraid +of those we deeply respect--those whose respect is the mainstay of our +self-confidence. She was moving toward him to pour out the violence +that was raging in her on the subject of this flirtation of Jane +Hastings. The spectacle of a useless and insincere creature like that +trifling with her deity, and being permitted to trifle, was more than +she could endure. But Victor, dropping listlessly to his chair and +reaching for his pencil, was somehow a check upon her impetuousness. +She paused long enough to think the sobering second thought. To speak +would be both an impertinence and a folly. She owed it to the cause +and to her friend Victor to speak; but to speak at the wrong time and +in the wrong way would be worse than silence. + +Said he: "I was finishing this when she came. I'll be done in a +minute. Please read what I've written and tell me what you think." + +Selma took up the loose sheets of manuscript and stood reading his +inaugural of the new New Day. As she read she forgot the petty matter +that had so agitated her a moment before. This salutatory--this +address to the working class--this plan of a campaign to take Remsen +City out of the hands of its exploiters and despoilers and make it a +city fit for civilized residence and worthy of its population of +intelligent, progressive workingmen--this leading editorial for the +first number was Victor Dorn at his greatest and best. The man of +action with all the enthusiasm of a dreamer. The shrewd, practical +politician with the outlook of a statesman. How honest and impassioned +he was; yet how free from folly and cant. Several times as she read +Selma lifted her eyes to look at him in generous, worshipful +admiration. She would not have dared let him see; she would not have +dared speak the phrases of adoration of his genius that crowded to her +lips. How he would have laughed at her--he who thought about himself +as a personality not at all, but only as an instrument. + +"Here's the rest of it," said he, throwing himself back in his chair +and relighting his pipe. + +She finished a moment later, said as she laid the manuscript on the +table: "That's the best you've ever done." + +"I think so," agreed he. "It seems to me I've got a new grip on +things. I needed a turn such as your friend Davy Hull gave me. +Nothing like rivalry to spur a man on. The old crowd was so +stupid--cunning, but stupid. But Hull injects a new element into the +struggle. To beat him we've got to use our best brains." + +"We've got to attack him," said Selma. "After all, he is the enemy. +We can't let him disarm us by an act of justice." + +"No, indeed," said Victor. "But we'll have to be careful. Here's what +I'm going to carry on the first page." + +He held up a sheet of paper on which he had written with a view to +effective display the names of the four most offensive local +corporations with their contribution--$25,000 each--to the campaign +fund of the Citizens' Alliance. "Under it, in big type," proceeded he, +"we'll carry a line asking, 'Is the Citizens' Alliance fooling these +four corporations or is it fooling the people?' I think that will be +more effective than columns of attack." + +"We ought to get that out on wall-bills and dodgers," suggested Selma, +"and deluge the town with it once or twice a week until election." + +"Splendid!" exclaimed Victor. "I'll make a practical politician of you +yet." + +Colman and Harbinger and Jocelyn and several others of the League +leaders came in one at a time, and the plan of campaign was developed +in detail. But the force they chiefly relied upon was the influence of +their twelve hundred men, their four or five thousand women and young +men and girls, talking every day and evening, each man or woman or +youth with those with whom he came into contact. This "army of +education" was disciplined, was educated, knew just what arguments to +use, had been cautioned against disputes, against arousing foolish +antagonisms. The League had nothing to conceal, no object to gain but +the government of Remsen City by and for its citizens--well paved, well +lighted, clean streets, sanitary houses, good and clean street car +service, honest gas, pure water, plenty of good schools--that first of +all. The "reform crowd"--the Citizens' Alliance--like every reform +party of the past, proposed to do practically the same things. But the +League met this with: "Why should we elect an upper class government to +do for us what we ought to do for ourselves? And how can they redeem +their promises when they are tied up in a hundred ways to the very +people who have been robbing and cheating us?" + +There were to be issues of the New Day; there were to be posters and +dodgers, public meetings in halls, in squares, on street corners. But +the main reliance now as always was this educated "army of +education"--these six thousand missionaries, each one of them in +resolute earnest and bent upon converting his neighbors on either side, +and across the street as well. A large part of the time the leaders +could spare from making a living was spent in working at this army, in +teaching it new arguments or better ways of presenting old arguments, +in giving the enthusiasm, in talking with each individual soldier of it +and raising his standard of efficiency. Nor could the employers of +these soldiers of Victor Dorn's complain that they shirked their work +for politics. It was a fact that could not be denied that the members +of the Workingmen's League were far and away the best workers in Remsen +City, got the best pay, and earned it, drank less, took fewer days off +on account of sickness. One of the sneers of the Kelly-House gang was +that "those Dorn cranks think they are aristocrats, a little better +than us common, ordinary laboring men." And the sneer was not without +effect. The truth was, Dorn and his associates had not picked out the +best of the working class and drawn it into the League, but had made +those who joined the League better workers, better family men, better +citizens. + +"We are saying that the working class ought to run things," Dorn said +again and again in his talks, public and private. "Then, we've got to +show the community that we're fit to run things. That is why the +League expels any man who shirks or is a drunkard or a crook or a bad +husband and father." + +The great fight of the League--the fight that was keeping it from +power--was with the trades unions, which were run by secret agents of +the Kelly-House oligarchy. Kelly and the Republican party rather +favored "open shop" or "scab" labor--the right of an American to let +his labor to whom he pleased on what terms he pleased. The Kelly +orators waxed almost tearful as they contemplated the outrage of any +interference with the ancient liberty of the American citizen. Kelly +disguised as House was a hot union man. He loathed the "scab." He +jeered at the idea that a laborer ought to be at the mercy of the +powerful employer who could dictate his own terms, which the laborers +might not refuse under stress of hunger. Thus the larger part of the +"free" labor in Remsen City voted with Kelly--was bought by him at so +much a head. The only organization it had was under the Kelly district +captains. Union labor was almost solidly Democratic--except in +Presidential elections, when it usually divided on the tariff question. + +Although almost all the Leaguers were members of the unions, Kelly and +House saw to it that they had no influence in union councils. That is, +until recently Kelly-House had been able to accomplish this. But they +were seeing the approaching end of their domination. The "army of +education" was proving too powerful for them. And they felt that at +the coming election the decline of their power would be +apparent--unless something drastic were done. + +They had attempted it in the riot. The riot had been a fizzle--thanks +to the interposition of the personal ambition of the until then +despised "holy boy," David Hull. Kelly, the shrewd, at once saw the +mark of the man of force. He resolved that Hull should be elected. He +had intended simply to use him to elect Hugo Galland judge and to split +up the rest of the tickets in such a way that some Leaguers and some +reformers would get in, would be powerless, would bring discredit and +ridicule upon their parties. But Hull was a man who could be useful; +his cleverness in upsetting the plot against Dorn and turning all to +his advantage demonstrated that. Therefore, Hull should be elected and +passed up higher. It did not enter his calculations that Hull might +prove refractory, might really be all that he professed; he had talked +with Davy, and while he had underestimated his intelligence, he knew he +had not misjudged his character. He knew that it was as easy to "deal" +with the Hull stripe of honest, high minded men as it was difficult to +"deal" with the Victor Dorn stripe. Hull he called a "sensible +fellow"; Victor Dorn he called a crank. But--he respected Dorn, while +Hull he held in much such esteem as he held his cigar-holder and pocket +knife, or Tony Rivers and Joe House. + +When Victor Dorn had first begun to educate and organize the people of +Remsen City, the boss industry was in its early form. That is, Kelly +and House were really rivals in the collecting of big campaign funds by +various forms of blackmail, in struggling for offices for themselves +and their followers, in levying upon vice and crime through the police. +In these ways they made the money, the lion's share of which naturally +fell to them as leaders, as organizers of plunder. But that stage had +now passed in Remsen City as it had passed elsewhere, and the boss +industry had taken a form far more difficult to combat. Kelly and +House no longer especially cared whether Republican party or Democratic +won. Their business--their source of revenue--had ceased to be through +carrying elections, had become a matter of skill in keeping the people +more or less evenly divided between the two "regular" parties, with an +occasional fake third party to discourage and bring into contempt +reform movers and to make the people say, "Well, bad as they are, at +least the regulars aren't addle-headed, damn fools doing nothing except +to make business bad." Both Kelly and House were supported and +enriched by the corporations and by big public contracting companies +and by real estate deals. Kelly still appropriated a large part of the +"campaign fund." House, in addition, took a share of the money raised +by the police from dives. But these sums were but a small part of +their income, were merely pin money for their wives and children. + +Yet--at heart and in all sincerity Kelly was an ardent Republican and +House was a ferocious Democrat. If you had asked either what +Republican and Democrat meant he would have been as vague and +unsatisfactory in his reply as would have been any of his followers +bearing torch and oilcloth cape in political processions, with no hope +of gain--beyond the exquisite pleasure of making a shouting ass of +himself in the most public manner. But for all that, Kelly was a +Republican and House a Democrat. It is not a strange, though it is a +profoundly mysterious, phenomenon, that of the priest who arranges the +trick mechanism of the god, yet being a devout believer, ready to die +for his "faith." + +Difficult though the task was of showing the average Remsen City man +that Republican and Democrat, Kelly and House, were one and the same +thing, and that thing a blood-sucking, blood-heavy leech upon his +veins--difficult though this task was, Victor Dorn knew that he had +about accomplished it, when David Hull appeared. A new personality; a +plausible personality, deceptive because self-deceiving--yet not so +thoroughly self-deceived that it was in danger of hindering its own +ambition. David Hull--just the kind of respectable, popular figurehead +and cloak the desperate Kelly-House conspiracy needed. + +How far had the "army of education" prepared the people for seeing +through this clever new fraud upon them? Victor Dorn could not judge. +He hoped for the best; he was prepared for the worst. + +The better to think out the various problems of the new situation, +complicated by his apparent debt of gratitude to Davy, Victor went +forth into the woods very early the next morning. He wandered far, but +ten o'clock found him walking in the path in the strip of woods near +the high road along the upper side of the park. And when Jane Hastings +appeared, he was standing looking in the direction from which she would +have to come. It was significant of her state of mind that she had +given small attention to her dress that morning. Nor was she looking +her best in expression or in color. Her eyes and her skin suggested an +almost sleepless night. + +He did not advance. She came rapidly as if eager to get over that +embarrassing space in which each could see the other, yet neither could +speak without raising the voice. When she was near she said: + +"You think you owe something to Davy Hull for what he did?" + +"The people think so," said he. "And that's the important thing." + +"Well--you owe him nothing," pursued she. + +"Nothing that would interfere with the cause," replied he. "And that +would be true, no matter what he had done." + +"I mean he did nothing for you," she explained. "I forgot to tell you +yesterday. The whole thing was simply a move to further his ambition. +I happened to be there when he talked with father and enlisted him." + +Victor laughed. "It was your father who put it through. I might have +known!" + +"At first I tried to interpose. Then--I stopped." She stood before +him with eyes down. "It came to me that for my own sake it would be +better that you should lose this fall. It seemed to me that if you won +you would be farther out of my reach." She paused, went steadily on: +"It was a bad feeling I had that you must not get anything except with +my help. Do you understand?" + +"Perfectly," said he cheerfully. "You are your father's own daughter." + +"I love power," said she. "And so do you. Only, being a woman, I'd +stoop to things to get it, that a man--at least your sort of man--would +scorn. Do you despise me for that? You oughtn't to. And you will +teach me better. You can make of me what you please, as I told you +yesterday. I only half meant it then. Now--it's true, through and +through." + +Victor glanced round, saw near at hand the bench he was seeking. "Let's +sit down here," said he. "I'm rather tired. I slept little and I've +been walking all morning. And you look tired, also." + +"After yesterday afternoon I couldn't sleep," said she. + +When they were seated he looked at her with an expression that seemed +to say: "I have thrown open the windows of my soul. Throw open yours; +and let us look at each other as we are, and speak of things as they +are." She suddenly flung herself against his breast and as he clasped +her she said: + +"No--no! Let's not reason coldly about things, Victor. Let's +feel--let's LIVE!" + +It was several minutes--and not until they had kissed many +times--before he regained enough self-control to say: "This simply +will not do, Jane. How can we discuss things calmly? You sit +there"--he pushed her gently to one end of the bench--"and I'll sit at +this end. Now!" + +"I love you, Victor! With your arms round me I am happy--and SO +strong!" + +"With my arms round you I'm happy, I'll admit," said he. "But--oh, so +weak! I have the sense that I am doing wrong--that we are both doing +wrong." + +"Why? Aren't you free?" + +"No, I am not free. As I've told you, I belong to a cause--to a +career." + +"But I won't hinder you there. I'll help you." + +"Why go over that again? You know better--I know better." Abruptly, +"Your father--what time does he get home for dinner?" + +"He didn't go down town to-day," replied Jane. "He's not well--not at +all well." + +Victor looked baffled. "I was about to propose that we go straight to +him." + +If he had been looking at Jane, he might have seen the fleeting flash +of an expression that betrayed that she had suspected the object of his +inquiry. + +"You will not go with me to your father?" + +"Not when he is ill," said she. "If we told him, it might kill him. +He has ambitions--what he regards as ambitions--for me. He admires +you, but--he doesn't admire your ideas." + +"Then," said Victor, following his own train of thought, "we must fight +this out between ourselves. I was hoping I'd have your father to help +me. I'm sure, as soon as you faced him with me, you'd realize that +your feeling about me is largely a delusion." + +"And you?" said Jane softly. "Your feeling about me--the feeling that +made you kiss me--was that delusion?" + +"It was--just what you saw," replied he, "and nothing more. The idea of +marrying you--of living my life with you doesn't attract me in the +least. I can't see you as my wife." He looked at her impatiently. +"Have you no imagination? Can't you see that you could not change, and +become what you'd have to be if you lived with me?" + +"You can make of me what you please," repeated she with loving +obstinacy. + +"That is not sincere!" cried he. "You may think it is, but it isn't. +Look at me, Jane." + +"I haven't been doing anything else since we met," laughed she. + +"That's better," said he. "Let's not be solemn. Solemnity is pose, +and when people are posing they get nowhere. You say I can make of you +what I please. Do you mean that you are willing to become a woman of +my class--to be that all your life--to bring up your children in that +way--to give up your fashionable friends--and maid--and carriages--and +Paris clothes--to be a woman who would not make my associates and their +families uncomfortable and shy?" + +She was silent. She tried to speak, but lifting her eyes before she +began her glance encountered his and her words died upon her lips. + +"You know you did not mean that," pursued he. "Now, I'll tell you what +you did mean. You meant that after you and I were married--or +engaged--perhaps you did not intend to go quite so far as marriage just +yet." + +The color crept into her averted face. + +"Look at me!" he commanded laughingly. + +With an effort she forced her eyes to meet his. + +"Now--smile, Jane!" + +His smile was contagious. The curve of her lips changed; her eyes +gleamed. + +"Am I not reading your thoughts?" said he. + +"You are very clever, Victor," admitted she. + +"Good. We are getting on. You believed that, once we were engaged, I +would gradually begin to yield, to come round to your way of thinking. +You had planned for me a career something like Davy Hull's--only freer +and bolder. I would become a member of your class, but would pose as a +representative of the class I had personally abandoned. Am I right?" + +"Go on, Victor," she said. + +"That's about all. Now, there are just two objections to your plan. +The first is, it wouldn't work. My associates would be 'on to' me in a +very short time. They are shrewd, practical, practically educated +men--not at all the sort that follow Davy Hull or are wearing Kelly's +and House's nose rings. In a few months I'd find myself a leader +without a following--and what is more futile and ridiculous than that?" + +"They worship you," said Jane. "They trust you implicitly. They know +that whatever you did would be for their good." + +He laughed heartily. "How little you know my friends," said he. "I am +their leader only because I am working with them, doing what we all see +must be done, doing it in the way in which we all see it must be done." + +"But THAT is not power!" cried Jane. + +"No," replied Victor. "But it is the career I wish--the only one I'd +have. Power means that one's followers are weak or misled or ignorant. +To be first among equals--that's worth while. The other thing is the +poor tawdriness that kings and bosses crave and that shallow, snobbish +people admire." + +"I see that," said Jane. "At least, I begin to see it. How wonderful +you are!" + +Victor laughed. "Is it that I know so much, or is it that you know so +little?" + +"You don't like for me to tell you that I admire you?" said Jane, +subtle and ostentatiously timid. + +"I don't care much about it one way or the other," replied Victor, who +had, when he chose, a rare ability to be blunt without being rude. +"Years ago, for my own safety, I began to train myself to care little +for any praise or blame but my own, and to make myself a very searching +critic of myself. So, I am really flattered only when I win my own +praise--and I don't often have that pleasure." + +"Really, I don't see why you bother with me," said she with sly +innocence--which was as far as she dared let her resentments go. + +"For two reasons," replied he promptly. "It flatters me that you are +interested in me. The second reason is that, when I lost control of +myself yesterday, I involved myself in certain responsibilities to you. +It has seemed to me that I owe it to myself and to you to make you see +that there is neither present nor future in any relations between us." + +She put out her hand, and before he knew what he was doing he had +clasped it. With a gentle, triumphant smile she said: "THERE'S the +answer to all your reasoning, Victor." + +He released her hand. "AN answer," he said, "but not the correct +answer." He eyed her thoughtfully. "You have done me a great +service," he went on. "You have shown me an unsuspected, a dangerous +weakness in myself. At another time--and coming in another way, I +might have made a mess of my career--and of the things that have been +entrusted to me." A long pause, then he added, to himself rather than +to her, "I must look out for that. I must do something about it." + +Jane turned toward him and settled herself in a resolute attitude and +with a resolute expression. "Victor," she said, "I've listened to you +very patiently. Now I want you to listen to me. What is the truth +about us? Why, that we are as if we had been made for each other. I +don't know as much as you do. I've led a much narrower life. I've +been absurdly mis-educated. But as soon as I saw you I felt that I had +found the man I was looking for. And I believe--I feel--I KNOW you +were drawn to me in the same way. Isn't that so?" + +"You--fascinated me," confessed he. "You--or your clothes--or your +perfume." + +"Explain it as you like," said she. "The fact remains that we were +drawn together. Well--Victor, _I_ am not afraid to face the future, as +fate maps it out for us. Are you?" + +He did not answer. + +"You--AFRAID," she went on. "No--you couldn't be afraid." + +A long silence. Then he said abruptly: "IF we loved each other. But +I know that we don't. I know that you would hate me when you realized +that you couldn't move me. And I know that I should soon get over the +infatuation for you. As soon as it became a question of +sympathies--common tastes--congeniality--I'd find you hopelessly +lacking." + +She felt that he was contrasting her with some one else--with a certain +some one. And she veiled her eyes to hide their blazing jealousy. A +movement on his part made her raise them in sudden alarm. He had +risen. His expression told her that the battle was lost--for the day. +Never had she loved him as at that moment, and never had longing to +possess him so dominated her willful, self-indulgent, spoiled nature. +Yet she hated him, too; she longed to crush him, to make him suffer--to +repay him with interest for the suffering he was inflicting upon +her--the humiliation. But she dared not show her feelings. It would +be idle to try upon this man any of the coquetries indicated for such +cases--to dismiss him coldly, or to make an appeal through an +exhibition of weakness or reckless passion. + +"You will see the truth, for yourself, as you think things over," said +he. + +She rose, stood before him with downcast eyes, with mouth sad and +sweet. "No," she said, "It's you who are hiding the truth from +yourself. I hope--for both our sakes--that you'll see it before long. +Good-by--dear." She stretched out her hand. + +Hesitatingly he took it. As their hands met, her pulse beating against +his, she lifted her eyes. And once more he was holding her close, was +kissing her. And she was lying in his arms unresisting, with two large +tears shining in the long lashes of her closed eyes. + +"Oh, Jane--forgive me!" he cried, releasing her. "I must keep away +from you. I will--I WILL!" And he was rushing down the steep +slope--direct, swift, relentless. But she, looking after him with a +tender, dreamy smile, murmured: "He loves me. He will come again. If +not--I'll go and get him!" + + +To Jane Victor Dorn's analysis of his feeling toward her and of the +reasons against yielding to it seemed of no importance whatever. Side +by side with Selma's "One may not trifle with love" she would have put +"In matters of love one does not reason," as equally axiomatic. Victor +was simply talking; love would conquer him as it had conquered every +man and every woman it had ever entered. Love--blind, unreasoning, +irresistible--would have its will and its way. + +And about most men she would have been right--about any man +practically, of the preceding generation. But Victor represented a new +type of human being--the type into whose life reason enters not merely +as a theoretical force, to be consulted and disregarded, but as an +authority, a powerful influence, dominant in all crucial matters. Only +in our own time has science begun to make a notable impression upon the +fog which formerly lay over the whole human mind, thicker here, thinner +there, a mere haze yonder, but present everywhere. This fog made clear +vision impossible, usually made seeing of any kind difficult; there was +no such thing as finding a distinct line between truth and error as to +any subject. And reason seemed almost as faulty a guide as +feeling--was by many regarded as more faulty, not without justification. + +But nowadays for some of us there are clear or almost clear horizons, +and such fog banks as there are conceal from them nothing that is of +importance in shaping a rational course of life. Victor Dorn was one +of these emancipated few. All successful men form their lives upon a +system of some kind. Even those who seem to live at haphazard, like +the multitude, prove to have chart and compass and definite port in +objective when their conduct is more attentively examined. Victor +Dorn's system was as perfect as it was simple, and he held himself to +it as rigidly as the father superior of a Trappist monastery holds his +monks to their routine. Also, Victor had learned to know and to be on +guard against those two arch-enemies of the man who wishes to "get +somewhere"--self-excuse and optimism. He had got a good strong leash +upon his vanity--and a muzzle, too. When things went wrong he +instantly blamed HIMSELF, and did not rest until he had ferreted out +the stupidity or folly of which HE had been guilty. He did not grieve +over his failures; he held severely scientific post mortems upon them +to discover the reason why--in order that there should not again be +that particular kind of failure at least. Then, as to the other +arch-enemy, optimism, he simply cut himself off from indulgence in it. +He worked for success; he assumed failure. He taught himself to care +nothing about success, but only about doing as intelligently and as +thoroughly as he could the thing next at hand. + +What has all this to do with his infatuation for Jane? It serves to +show not only why the Workingmen's League was growing like a plague of +gypsy moth, but also why Victor Dorn was not the man to be conquered by +passion. Naturally, Jane, who had only the vaguest conception of the +size and power of Victor Dorn's mind, could not comprehend wherein lay +the difference between him and the men she read about in novels or met +in her wanderings among the people of her own class in various parts of +the earth. It is possible for even the humblest of us to understand +genius, just as it is possible to view a mountain from all sides and +get a clear idea of it bulk and its dominion. But the hasty traveler +contents himself with a glance, a "How superb," and a quick passing on; +and most of us are hasty travelers in the scenic land of +intellectuality. Jane saw that he was a great man. But she was +deceived by his frankness and his simplicity. She evoked in him only +the emotional side of his nature, only one part of that. + +Because it--the only phase of him she attentively examined--was so +impressive, she assumed that it was the chief feature of the man. + +Also, young and inexperienced women--and women not so young, and with +opportunity to become less inexperienced but without the ability to +learn by experience--always exaggerate the importance of passion. +Almost without exception, it is by way of passion that a man and a +woman approach each other. It is, of necessity, the exterior that +first comes into view. Thus, all that youth and inexperience can know +about love is its aspect of passion. Because Jane had again and again +in her five grown-up years experienced men falling passionately in love +with her, she fancied she was an expert in matters of love. In fact, +she had still everything to learn. + +On the way home she, assuming that the affair was as good as settled, +that she and Victor Dorn were lovers, was busy with plans for the +future. Victor Dorn had made a shrewd guess at the state of her mind. +She had no intention of allowing him to pursue his present career. +That was merely foundation. With the aid of her love and council, and +of her father's money and influence, he--he and she--would mount to +something really worth while--something more than the petty politics of +a third rate city in the West. Washington was the proper arena for his +talents; they would take the shortest route to Washington. No trouble +about bringing him around; a man so able and so sensible as he would +not refuse the opportunity to do good on a grand scale. Besides--he +must be got away from his family, from these doubtless good and kind +but certainly not very high class associates of his, and from Selma +Gordon. The idea of his comparing HER with Selma Gordon! He had not +done so aloud, but she knew what was in his mind. Yes, he must be +taken far away from all these provincial and narrowing associations. + +But all this was mere detail. The big problem was how to bring her +father round. He couldn't realize what Victor Dorn would be after she +had taken him in hand. He would see only Victor Dorn, the labor +agitator of Remsen City, the nuisance who put mischievous motives into +the heads of "the hands"--the man who made them think they had heads +when they were intended by the Almighty to be simply hands. How +reconcile him to the idea of accepting this nuisance, this poor, +common member of the working class as a son-in-law, as the husband of +the daughter he wished to see married to some one of the "best" +families? + +On the face of it, the thing was impossible. Why, then, did not Jane +despair? For two reasons. In the first place, she was in love, and +that made her an optimist. Somehow love would find the way. But the +second reason--the one she hid from herself deep in the darkest +sub-cellar of her mind, was the real reason. It is one matter to wish +for a person's death. Only a villainous nature can harbor such a wish, +can admit it except as a hastily and slyly in-crawling impulse, to be +flung out the instant it is discovered. It is another matter to +calculate--very secretly, very unconsciously--upon a death that seems +inevitable anyhow. Jane had only to look at her father to feel that he +would not be spared to her long. The mystery was how he had kept alive +so long, how he continued to live from day to day. His stomach was +gone; his whole digestive apparatus was in utter disorder. His body +had shriveled until he weighed no more than a baby. His pulse was so +feeble that even in the hot weather he complained of the cold and had +to be wrapped in the heaviest winter garments. Yet he lived on, and his +mind worked with undiminished vigor. + +When Jane reached home, the old man was sitting on the veranda in the +full sun. On his huge head was a fur cap pulled well down over his +ears and intensifying the mortuary, skull-like appearance of his face. +Over his ulster was an old-fashioned Scotch shawl such as men used to +wear in the days before overcoats came into fashion. About his wasted +legs was wrapped a carriage robe, and she knew that there was a +hot-water bag under his feet. Beside him sat young Doctor Charlton, +whom Jane had at last succeeded in inducing her father to try. +Charlton did not look or smell like a doctor. He rather suggested a +professional athlete, perhaps a better class prize fighter. The +weazened old financier was gazing at him with a fascinated +expression--admiring, envious, amused. + +Charlton was saying: + +"Yes, you do look like a dead one. But that's only another of your +tricks for fooling people. You'll live a dozen years unless you commit +suicide. A dozen years? Probably twenty." + +"You ought to be ashamed to make sport of a poor old invalid," said +Hastings with a grin. + +"Any man who could stand a lunch of crackers and milk for ten years +could outlive anything," retorted Charlton. "No, you belong to the old +stock. You used to see 'em around when you were a boy. They usually +coughed and wheezed, and every time they did it, the family used to get +ready to send for the undertaker. But they lived on and on. When did +your mother die?" + +"Couple of years ago," said Hastings. + +"And your father?" + +"He was killed by a colt he was breaking at sixty-seven." + +Charlton laughed uproariously. "If you took walks and rides instead of +always sitting round, you never would die," said he. "But you're like +lots of women I know. You'd rather die than take exercise. Still, +I've got you to stop that eating that was keeping you on the verge all +the time." + +"You're trying to starve me to death," grumbled Hastings. + +"Don't you feel better, now that you've got used to it and don't feel +hungry?" + +"But I'm not getting any nourishment." + +"How would eating help you? You can't digest any more than what I'm +allowing you. Do you think you were better off when you were full of +rotting food? I guess not." + +"Well--I'm doing as you say," said the old man resignedly. + +"And if you keep it up for a year, I'll put you on a horse. If you +don't keep it up, you'll find yourself in a hearse." + +Jane stood silently by, listening with a feeling of depression which +she could not have accounted for, if she would--and would not if she +could. Not that she wished her father to die; simply that Charlton's +confidence in his long life forced her to face the only +alternative--bringing him round to accept Victor Dorn. + +At her father's next remark she began to listen with a high beating +heart. He said to Charlton: + +"How about that there friend of yours--that young Dorn? You ain't +talked about him to-day as much as usual." + +"The last time we talked about him we quarreled," said Charlton. "It's +irritating to see a man of your intelligence a slave to silly +prejudices." + +"I like Victor Dorn," replied Hastings in a most conciliatory tone. "I +think he's a fine young man. Didn't I have him up here at my house not +long ago? Jane'll tell you that I like him. She likes him, too. But +the trouble with him--and with you, too--is that you're dreaming all +the time. You don't recognize facts. And, so, you make a lot of +trouble for us conservative men." + +"Please don't use that word conservative," said Charlton. "It gags me +to hear it. YOU'RE not a conservative. If you had been you'd still be +a farm hand. You've been a radical all your life--changing things +round and round, always according to your idea of what was to your +advantage. The only difference between radicals like you robber +financiers and radicals like Victor and me is that our ideas of what's +to our advantage differ. To you life means money; to us it means +health and comfort and happiness. You want the world changed--laws +upset, liberty destroyed, wages lowered, and so on--so that you can get +all the money. We want the world changed so that we can be healthy and +comfortable and happy--securely so--which we can't be unless everybody +is, or is in the way to being." + +Jane was surprised to see that her father, instead of being offended, +was amused and pleased. He liked his new doctor so well that he liked +everything he said and did. Jane looked at Charlton in her friendliest +way. Here might be an ally, and a valuable ally. + +"Human nature doesn't change," said Hastings in the tone of a man who +is stating that which cannot be disputed. + +"The mischief it doesn't," said Charlton in prompt and vigorous +dissent. "When conditions change, human nature has to change, has to +adapt itself. What you mean is that human nature doesn't change +itself. But conditions change it. They've been changing it very +rapidly these last few years. Science--steam, electricity, a thousand +inventions and discoveries, crowding one upon another--science has +brought about entirely new and unprecedented conditions so rapidly that +the changes in human nature now making and that must be made in the +next few years are resulting in a series of convulsions. You +old-fashioned fellows--and the political parties and the +politicians--are in danger of being stranded. Leaders like Victor +Dorn--movements like our Workingmen's League--they seem new and radical +to-day. By to-morrow they'll be the commonplace thing, found +everywhere--and administering the public affairs." + +Jane was not surprised to see an expression of at least partial +admission upon her father's face. Charlton's words were of the kind +that set the imagination to work, that remind those who hear of a +thousand and one familiar related facts bearing upon the same points. +"Well," said Hastings, "I don't expect to see any radical changes in my +time." + +"Then you'll not live as long as I think," said Charlton. "We +Americans advance very slowly because this is a big country and +undeveloped, and because we shift about so much that no one stays in +one place long enough to build up a citizenship and get an education in +politics--which is nothing more or less than an education in the art of +living. But slow though we are, we do advance. You'll soon see the +last of Boss Kelly and Boss House--and of such gentle, amiable frauds +as our friend Davy Hull." + +Jane laughed merrily. "Why do you call him a fraud?" she asked. + +"Because he is a fraud," said Charlton. "He is trying to confuse the +issue. He says the whole trouble is petty dishonesty in public life. +Bosh! The trouble is that the upper and middle classes are milking the +lower class--both with and without the aid of the various governments, +local, state and national. THAT'S the issue. And the reason it is +being forced is because the lower class, the working class, is slowly +awakening to the truth. When it completely awakens----" Charlton made +a large gesture and laughed. + +"What then?" said Hastings. + +"The end of the upper and the middle classes. Everybody will have to +work for a living." + +"Who's going to be elected this fall?" asked Jane. "Your man?" + +"Yes," said Doctor Charlton. "Victor Dorn thinks not. But he always +takes the gloomy view. And he doesn't meet and talk with the fellows +on the other side, as I do." + +Hastings was looking out from under the vizor of his cap with a +peculiar grin. It changed to a look of startled inquiry as Charlton +went on to say: + +"Yes, we'll win. But the Davy Hull gang will get the offices." + +"Why do you think that?" asked old Hastings sharply. + +Charlton eyed his patient with a mocking smile. "You didn't think any +one knew but you and Kelly--did you?" laughed he. + +"Knew what?" demanded Hastings, with a blank stare. + +"No matter," said Charlton. "I know what you intend to do. Well, +you'll get away with the goods. But you'll wish you hadn't. You +old-fashioned fellows, as I've been telling you, don't realize that +times have changed." + +"Do you mean, Doctor, that the election is to be stolen away from you?" +inquired Jane. + +"Was that what I meant, Mr. Hastings?" said Charlton. + +"The side that loses always shouts thief at the side that wins," said +the old man indifferently. "I don't take any interest in politics." + +"Why should you?" said the Doctor audaciously. "You own both sides. +So, it's heads you win, tails I lose." + +Hastings laughed heartily. "Them political fellows are a lot of +blackmailers," said he. + +"That's ungrateful," said Charlton. "Still, I don't blame you for +liking the Davy Hull crowd better. From them you can get what you want +just the same, only you don't have to pay for it." + +He rose and stretched his big frame, with a disregard of conventional +good manners so unconscious that it was inoffensive. + +But Charlton had a code of manners of his own, and somehow it seemed to +suit him where the conventional code would have made him seem cheap. +"I didn't mean to look after your political welfare, too," said he. +"But I'll make no charge for that." + +"Oh, I like to hear you young fellows talk," said Martin. "You'll sing +a different song when you're as old as I am and have found out what a +lot of damn fools the human race is." + +"As I told you before," said Charlton, "it's conditions that make the +human animal whatever it is. It's in the harness of conditions--the +treadmill of conditions--the straight jacket of conditions. Change the +conditions and you change the animal." + +When he was swinging his big powerful form across the lawns toward the +fringe of woods, Jane and her father looking after him, Jane said: + +"He's wonderfully clever, isn't he?" + +"A dreamer--a crank," replied the old man. + +"But what he says sounds reasonable," suggested the daughter. + +"It SOUNDS sensible," admitted the old man peevishly. "But it ain't +what _I_ was brought up to call sensible. Don't you get none of those +fool ideas into your head. They're all very well for men that haven't +got any property or any responsibilities--for flighty fellows like +Charlton and that there Victor Dorn. But as soon as anybody gets +property and has interests to look after, he drops that kind of talk." + +"Do you mean that property makes a man too blind or too cowardly to +speak the truth?" asked Jane with an air of great innocence. + +The old man either did not hear or had no answer ready. He said: + +"You heard him say that Davy Hull was going to win?" + +"Why, he said Victor Dorn was going to win," said Jane, still simple +and guileless. + +Hastings frowned impatiently. "That was just loose talk. He admitted +Davy was to be the next mayor. If he is--and I expect Charlton was +about right--if Davy is elected, I shouldn't be surprised to see him +nominated for governor next year. He's a sensible, knowing fellow. +He'll make a good mayor, and he'll be elected governor on his record." + +"And on what you and the other men who run things will do for him," +suggested Jane slyly. + +Her father grinned expressively. "I like to see a sensible, ambitious +young fellow from my town get on," said he. "And I'd like to see my +girl married to a fellow of that sort, and settled." + +"I think more could be done with a man like Victor Dorn," said Jane. +"It seems to me the Davy Hull sort of politics is--is about played out. +Don't you think so?" + +Jane felt that her remark was a piece of wild audacity. But she was +desperate. To her amazement her father did not flare up but kept +silent, wearing the look she knew meant profound reflection. + +After a moment he said: + +"Davy's a knowing boy. He showed that the other day when he jumped in +and made himself a popular hero. He'd never 'a' been able to come +anywheres near election but for that. Dorn'd 'a' won by a vote so big +that Dick Kelly wouldn't 'a' dared even try to count him out.... +Dorn's a better man than Davy. But Dorn's got a foolish streak in him. +He believes the foolishness he talks, instead of simply talking it to +gain his end. I've been looking him over and thinking him over. He +won't do, Jinny." + +Was her father discussing the matter abstractly, impersonally, as he +seemed? Or, had he with that uncanny shrewdness of his somehow +penetrated to her secret--or to a suspicion of it? Jane was so +agitated that she sat silent and rigid, trying to look unconcerned. + +"I had a strong notion to try to do something for him," continued the +old man. "But it'd be no use. He'd not rise to a chance that was +offered him. He's set on going his own way." + +Jane trembled--dared. "I believe _I_ could do something with him," +said she--and she was pleased with the coolness of her voice, the +complete absence of agitation or of false note. + +"Try if you like," said her father. "But I'm sure you'll find I'm +right. Be careful not to commit yourself in any way. But I needn't +warn you. You know how to take care of yourself. Still, maybe you +don't realize how set up he'd be over being noticed by a girl in your +position. And if you gave him the notion that there was a chance for +him to marry you, he'd be after you hammer and tongs. The idea of +getting hold of so much money'd set him crazy." + +"I doubt if he cares very much--or at all--about money," said Jane, +judicially. + +Hastings grinned satirically. "There ain't nobody that don't care +about money," said he, "any more than there's anybody that don't care +about air to breathe. Put a pin right there, Jinny." + +"I hate to think that," she said, reluctantly, "but I'm +afraid--it's--so." + + +As she was taking her ride one morning she met David Hull also on +horseback and out for his health. He turned and they rode together, +for several miles, neither breaking the silence except with an +occasional remark about weather or scenery. Finally Davy said: + +"You seem to be down about something, too?" + +"Not exactly down," replied Jane. "Simply--I've been doing a lot of +thinking--and planning--or attempt at planning--lately." + +"I, too," said Davy. + +"Naturally. How's politics?" + +"Of course I don't hear anything but that I'm going to be elected. If +you want to become convinced that the whole world is on the graft, take +part in a reform campaign. We've attracted every broken-down political +crook in this region. It's hard to say which crowd is the more +worthless, the college amateurs at politics or these rotten old +in-goods who can't get employment with either Kelly or House and, so, +have joined us. By Jove, I'd rather be in with the out and out +grafters--the regulars that make no bones of being in politics for the +spoils. There's slimy hypocrisy over our crowd that revolts me. Not a +particle of sincerity or conviction. Nothing but high moral guff." + +"Oh, but YOU'RE sincere, Davy," said Jane with twinkling eyes. + +"Am I?" said Davy angrily. "I'm not so damn sure of it." Hastily, "I +don't mean that. Of course, I'm sincere--as sincere as a man can be +and get anywhere in this world. You've got to humbug the people, +because they haven't sense enough to want the truth." + +"I guess, Davy," said Jane shrewdly, "if you told them the whole truth +about yourself and your party they'd have sense enough--to vote for +Victor Dorn." + +"He's a demagogue," said Davy with an angry jerk at his rein. "He knows +the people aren't fit to rule." + +"Who is?" said Jane. "I've yet to see any human creature who could run +anything without making more or less of a mess of it. And--well, +personally, I'd prefer incompetent honest servants to competent ones +who were liars or thieves." + +"Sometimes I think," said Davy, "that the only thing to do is to burn +the world up and start another one." + +"You don't talk like a man who expected to be elected," said Jane. + +"Oh--I'm worrying about myself--not about the election," said Hull, +lapsing into sullen silence. And certainly he had no reason to worry +about the election. He had the Citizen's Alliance and the Democratic +nominations. And, as a further aid to him, Dick Kelly had given the +Republican nomination to Alfred Sawyer, about the most unpopular +manufacturer in that region. Sawyer, a shrewd money maker, was an ass +in other ways, was strongly seized of the itch for public office. +Kelly, seeking the man who would be the weakest, combined business with +good politics; he forced Sawyer to pay fifty thousand dollars into the +"campaign fund" in a lump sum, and was counting confidently upon +"milking" him for another fifty thousand in installments during the +campaign. Thus, in the natural order of things, Davy could safely +assume that he would be the next mayor of Remsen City by a gratifyingly +large majority. The last vote of the Workingmen's League had been made +fifteen hundred. Though it should quadruple its strength at the coming +election--which was most improbable--it would still be a badly beaten +second. Politically, Davy was at ease. + +Jane waited ten minutes, then asked abruptly: + +"What's become of Selma Gordon?" + +"Did you see this week's New Day?" + +"Is it out? I've seen no one, and haven't been down town." + +"There was a lot of stuff in it against me. Most of it demagoguing, of +course, but more or less hysterical campaigning. The only nasty article +about me--a downright personal attack on my sincerity--was signed +'S.G.'" + +"Oh--to be sure," said Jane, with smiling insincerity. "I had almost +forgotten what you told me. Well, it's easy enough to bribe her to +silence. Go offer yourself to her." + +A long silence, then Davy said: "I don't believe she'd accept me." + +"Try it," said Jane. + +Again a long pause. David said sullenly: "I did." + +Selma Gordon had refused David Hull! Half a dozen explanations of this +astounding occurrence rapidly suggested themselves. Jane rejected each +in turn at a glance. "You're sure she understood you?" + +"I made myself as clear as I did when I proposed to you," replied Davy +with a lack of tact which a woman of Jane's kind would never forget or +forgive. + +Jane winced, ignored. Said she: "You must have insisted on some +conditions she hesitated to accept." + +"On her own terms," said Davy. + +Jane gave up trying to get the real reason from him, sought it in +Selma's own words and actions. She inquired: "What did she say? What +reason did she give?" + +"That she owed it to the cause of her class not to marry a man of my +class," answered Hull, believing that he was giving the exact and the +only reason she assigned or had. + +Jane gave a faint smile of disdain. "Women don't act from a sense of +duty," she said. + +"She's not the ordinary woman," said Hull. "You must remember she +wasn't brought up as you and I were--hasn't our ideas of life. The +things that appeal to us most strongly don't touch her. She knows +nothing about them." He added, "And that's her great charm for me." + +Jane nodded sympathetically. Her own case exactly. After a brief +hesitation she suggested: + +"Perhaps Selma's in love with--some one else." The pause before the +vague "some one else" was almost unnoticeable. + +"With Victor Dorn, you mean?" said Davy. "I asked her about that. No, +she's not in love with him." + +"As if she'd tell you!" + +Davy looked at her a little scornfully. "Don't insinuate," he said. +"You know she would. There's nothing of the ordinary tricky, evasive, +faking woman about her. And although she's got plenty of excuse for +being conceited, she isn't a bit so. She isn't always thinking about +herself, like the girls of our class." + +"I don't in the least wonder at your being in love with her, Davy," +said Jane sweetly. "Didn't I tell you I admired your taste--and your +courage?" + +"You're sneering at me," said Davy. "All the same, it did take +courage--for I'm a snob at bottom--like you--like all of us who've been +brought up so foolishly--so rottenly. But I'm proud that I had the +courage. I've had a better opinion of myself ever since. And if you +have any unspoiled womanhood in you, you agree with me." + +"I do agree with you," said Jane softly. She reached out and laid her +hand on his arm for an instant. "That's honest, Davy." + +He gave her a grateful look. "I know it," said he. "The reason I +confide things to you is because I know you're a real woman at bottom, +Jane--the only real person I've ever happened across in our class." + +"It took more courage for you to do that sort of thing than it would +for a woman," said Jane. "It's more natural, easier for a woman to +stake everything in love. If she hasn't the man she wants she hasn't +anything, while a man's wife can be a mere detail in his life. He can +forget he's married, most of the time." + +"That isn't the way I intend to be married," said Davy. "I want a wife +who'll be half, full half, of the whole. And I'll get her." + +"You mean you haven't given up?" + +"Why should I? She doesn't love another man. So, there's hope. Don't +you think so?" + +Jane was silent. She hastily debated whether it would be wiser to say +yes or to say no. + +"Don't you think so?" repeated he. + +"How can I tell?" replied Jane, diplomatically. "I'd have to see her +with you--see how she feels toward you." + +"I think she likes me," said Davy, "likes me a good deal." + +Jane kept her smile from the surface. What a man always thought, no +matter how plainly a woman showed that she detested him. "No doubt she +does," said Jane. She had decided upon a course of action. "If I were +you, Davy, I'd keep away from her for the present--give her time to +think it over, to see all the advantages. If a man forces himself on a +queer, wild sort of girl such as Selma is, he's likely to drive her +further away." + +Davy reflected. "Guess you're right," said he finally. "My instinct +is always to act--to keep on acting until I get results. But it's +dangerous to do that with Selma. At least, I think so. I don't know. +I don't understand her. I've got nothing to offer her--nothing that +she wants--as she frankly told me. Even if she loved me, I doubt if +she'd marry me--on account of her sense of duty. What you said awhile +ago--about women never doing things from a sense of duty--that shows +how hard it is for a woman to understand what's perfectly simple to a +man. Selma isn't the sheltered woman sort--the sort whose moral +obligations are all looked after by the men of her family. The +old-fashioned woman always belonged to some man--or else was an +outcast. This new style of woman looks at life as a man does." + +Jane listened with a somewhat cynical expression. No doubt, in theory, +there was a new style of woman. But practically, the new style of woman +merely TALKED differently; at least, she was still the old-fashioned +woman, longing for dependence upon some man and indifferent to the +obligations men made such a fuss about--probably not so sincerely as +they fancied. But her expression changed when Davy went on to say: + +"She'd look at a thing of that sort much as I--or Victor Dorn would." + +Jane's heart suddenly sank. Because the unconscious blow had hurt she +struck out, struck back with the first weapon she could lay hold of. +"But you said a minute ago that Victor was a hypocritical demagogue." + +Davy flushed with confusion. He was in a franker mood now, however. +"I'd like to think that," he replied. "But I don't honestly believe +it." + +"You think that if Victor Dorn loved a woman of our class he'd put her +out of his life?" + +"That's hardly worth discussing," said Davy. "No woman of our +class--no woman he'd be likely to look at--would encourage him to the +point where he'd presume upon it." + +"How narrow you are!" cried Jane, derisive but even more angry. + +"It's different--entirely different--with a man, even in our class. +But a woman of our class--she's a lady or she's nothing at all. And a +lady couldn't be so lacking in refinement as to descend to a man +socially beneath her." + +"I can see how ANY woman might fall in love with Victor Dorn." + +"You're just saying that to be argumentative," said Davy with +conviction. "Take yourself, for example." + +"I confess I don't see any such contrast between Victor and you--except +where the comparison's altogether in his favor," said Jane pleasantly. +"You don't know as much as he does. You haven't the independence of +character--or the courage--or the sincerity. You couldn't be a real +leader, as he is. You have to depend on influence, and on trickery." + +A covert glance at the tall, solemn-looking young man riding silently +beside her convinced her that he was as uncomfortable as she had hoped +to make him. + +"As for manners--and the things that go to make a gentleman," she went +on, "I'm not sure but that there, too, the comparison is against you. +You always suggest to me that if you hadn't the pattern set for men of +our class and didn't follow it, you'd be absolutely lost, Davy, dear. +While Victor--he's a fine, natural person, with the manners that grow +as naturally out of his personality as oak leaves grow out of an oak." + +Jane was astonished and delighted by this eloquence of hers about the +man she loved--an eloquence far above her usual rather commonplace mode +of speech and thought. Love was indeed an inspirer! What a person she +would become when she had Victor always stimulating her. She went on: + +"A woman would never grow tired of Victor. He doesn't talk stale stuff +such as all of us get from the stale little professors and stale, +dreary text-books at our colleges." + +"Why don't you fall in love with him?" said Davy sourly. + +"I do believe you're envious of Victor Dorn," retorted Jane. + +"What a disagreeable mood you're in to-day," said Davy. + +"So a man always thinks when a woman speaks well of another man in his +presence." + +"I didn't suspect you of being envious of Selma. Why should you +suspect me of feeling ungenerously about Victor? Fall in love with him +if you like. Heaven knows, I'd do nothing to stop it." + +"Perhaps I shall," said Jane, with unruffled amiability. "You're +setting a dangerous example of breaking down class lines." + +"Now, Jane, you know perfectly well that while, if I married Selma +she'd belong to my class, a woman of our class marrying Victor Dorn +would sink to his class. Why quarrel about anything so obviously true?" + +"Victor Dorn belongs to a class by himself," replied Jane. "You forget +that men of genius are not regarded like you poor ordinary mortals." + +Davy was relieved that they had reached the turning at which they had +to separate. "I believe you are in love with him," said he as a +parting shot. + +Jane, riding into her lane, laughed gayly, mockingly. She arrived at +home in fine humor. It pleased her that Davy, for all his love for +Selma, could yet be jealous of Victor Dorn on her account. And more +than ever, after this talk with him--the part of it that preceded the +quarrel--she felt that she was doing a fine, brave, haughtily +aristocratic thing in loving Victor Dorn. Only a woman with a royal +soul would venture to be thus audacious. + +Should she encourage or discourage the affair between Davy and Selma? +There was much to be said for this way of removing Selma from her path; +also, if a man of Davy Hull's position married beneath him, less would +be thought of her doing the same thing. On the other hand, she felt +that she had a certain property right in David Hull, and that Selma was +taking what belonged to her. This, she admitted to herself, was mean +and small, was unworthy of the woman who was trying to be worthy of +Victor Dorn, of such love as she professed for him. Yes, mean and +small. She must try to conquer it. + +But--when she met Selma in the woods a few mornings later, her dominant +emotions were anything but high-minded and generous. Selma was looking +her most fascinating--wild and strange and unique. They caught sight +of each other at the same instant. Jane came composedly on--Selma made +a darting movement toward a by-path opening near her, hesitated, stood +like some shy, lovely bird of the deep wilderness ready to fly away +into hiding. + +"Hello, Selma!" said Jane carelessly. + +Selma looked at her with wide, serious eyes. + +"Where have you been keeping yourself of late? Busy with the writing, +I suppose?" + +"I owe you an apology," said Selma, in a queer, suppressed voice. "I +have been hating you, and trying to think of some way to keep you and +Victor Dorn apart. I thought it was from my duty to the cause. I've +found out that it was a low, mean personal reason." + +Jane had stopped short, was regarding her with eyes that glowed in a +pallid face. "Because you are in love with him?" she said. + +Selma gave a quick, shamed nod. "Yes," she said--the sound was +scarcely audible. + +Selma's frank and generous--and confiding--self-sacrifice aroused no +response in Jane Hastings. For the first time in her life she was +knowing what it meant to hate. + +"And I've got to warn you," Selma went on, "that I am going to do +whatever I can to keep you from hindering him. Not because I love him, +but because I owe it to the cause. He belongs to it, and I must help +him be single-hearted for it. You could only be a bad influence in his +life. I think you would like to be a sincere woman; but you can't. +Your class is too strong for you. So--it would be wrong for Victor Dorn +to love and to marry you. I think he realizes it and is struggling to +be true to himself. I intend to help him, if I can." + +Jane smiled cruelly. "What hypocrisy!" she said, and turned and walked +away. + + + +VIII + +In America we have been bringing up our women like men, and treating +them like children. They have active minds with nothing to act upon. +Thus they are driven to think chiefly about themselves. With Jane +Hastings, self-centering took the form of self-analysis most of the +time. She was intensely interested in what she regarded as the new +development of her character. This definite and apparently final +decision for the narrow and the ungenerous. In fact, it was no new +development, but simply a revelation to herself of her own real +character. She was seeing at last the genuine Jane Hastings, +inevitable product of a certain heredity in a certain environment. The +high thinking and talking, the idealistic aspiration were pose and +pretense. Jane Hastings was a selfish, self-absorbed person, ready to +do almost any base thing to gain her ends, ready to hate to the +uttermost any one who stood between her and her object. + +"I'm certainly not a lovely person--not a lovable person," thought she, +with that gentle tolerance wherewith we regard our ownselves, whether +in the dress of pretense or in the undress of deformed humanness. +"Still--I am what I am, and I've got to make the best of it." + +As she thought of Selma's declaration of war she became less and less +disturbed about it. Selma neither would nor could do anything sly. +Whatever she attempted in the open would only turn Victor Dorn more +strongly toward herself. However, she must continue to try to see him, +must go to see him in a few days if she did not happen upon him in her +rides or walks. How poorly he would think of her if he knew the truth +about her! But then, how poor most women--and men, too--would look in +a strong and just light. Few indeed could stand idealizing; except +Victor, no one she knew. And he was human enough not to make her +uncomfortable in his presence. + +But it so happened that before she could see Victor Dorn her father +disobeyed Dr. Charlton and gave way to the appetite that was the chief +cause of his physical woes. He felt so well that he ate the family +dinner, including a peach cobbler with whipped cream, which even the +robust Jane adventured warily. Martha was dining with them. She +abetted her father. "It's light," said she. "It couldn't harm +anybody." + +"You mustn't touch it, popsy," said Jane. + +She unthinkingly spoke a little too commandingly. Her father, in a +perverse and reckless mood, took Martha's advice. An hour later Dr. +Charlton was summoned, and had he not arrived promptly---- + +"Another fifteen or twenty minutes," said he to the old man when he had +him out of immediate danger, "and I'd have had nothing to do but sign a +certificate of natural death." + +"Murder would have been nearer the truth," said Martin feebly. "That +there fool Martha!" + +"Come out from behind that petticoat!" cried Charlton. "Didn't I spend +the best part of three days in giving you the correct ideas as to +health and disease--in showing you that ALL disease comes from +indigestion--ALL disease, from falling hair and sore eyes to weak +ankles and corns? And didn't I convince you that you could eat only +the things I told you about?" + +"Don't hit a man when he's down," groaned Hastings. + +"If I don't, you'll do the same idiotic trick again when I get you +up--if I get you up." + +Hastings looked quickly at him. This was the first time Charlton had +ever expressed a doubt about his living. "Do you mean that?" he said +hoarsely. "Or are you just trying to scare me?" + +"Both," said Charlton. "I'll do my best, but I can't promise. I've +lost confidence in you. No wonder doctors, after they've been in +practice a few years, stop talking food and digestion to their +patients. I've never been able to convince a single human being that +appetite is not the sign of health, and yielding to it the way to +health. But I've made lots of people angry and have lost their trade. +I had hopes of you. You were such a hopeless wreck. But no. And you +call yourself an intelligent man!" + +"I'll never do it again," said Hastings, pleading, but smiling, +too--Charlton's way of talking delighted him. + +"You think this is a joke," said Charlton, shaking his bullet head. +"Have you any affairs to settle? If you have, send for your lawyer in +the morning." + +Fear--the Great Fear--suddenly laid its icy long fingers upon the +throat of the old man. He gasped and his eyes rolled. "Don't trifle +with me, Charlton," he muttered. "You know you will pull me through." + +"I'll do my best," said Charlton. "I promise nothing. I'm serious +about the lawyer." + +"I don't want no lawyer hanging round my bed," growled the old man. +"It'd kill me. I've got nothing to settle. I don't run things with +loose ends. And there's Jinny and Marthy and the boy--share and share +alike." + +"Well--you're in no immediate danger. I'll come early to-morrow." + +"Wait till I get to sleep." + +"You'll be asleep as soon as the light's down. But I'll stop a few +minutes and talk to your daughter." + +Charlton found Jane at the window in the dressing room next her +father's bedroom. He said loudly enough for the old man to overhear: + +"Your father's all right for the present, so you needn't worry. Come +downstairs with me. He's to go to sleep now." + +Jane went in and kissed the bulging bony forehead. "Good night, popsy." + +"Good night, Jinny dear," he said in a softer voice than she had ever +heard from him. "I'm feeling very comfortable now, and sleepy. If +anything should happen, don't forget what I said about not temptin' +your brother by trustin' him too fur. Look after your own affairs. +Take Mr. Haswell's advice. He's stupid, but he's honest and careful +and safe. You might talk to Dr. Charlton about things, too. He's +straight, and knows what's what. He's one of them people that gives +everybody good advice but themselves. If anything should happen----" + +"But nothing's going to happen, popsy." + +"It might. I don't seem to care as much as I did. I'm so tarnation +tired. I reckon the goin' ain't as bad as I always calculated. I +didn't know how tired they felt and anxious to rest." + +"I'll turn down the light. The nurse is right in there." + +"Yes--turn the light. If anything should happen, there's an envelope +in the top drawer in my desk for Dr. Charlton. But don't tell him till +I'm gone. I don't trust nobody, and if he knowed there was something +waiting, why, there's no telling----" + +The old man had drowsed off. Jane lowered the light and went down to +join Charlton on the front veranda, where he was smoking a cigarette. +She said: + +"He's asleep." + +"He's all right for the next few days," said Charlton. "After that--I +don't know. I'm very doubtful." + +Jane was depressed, but not so depressed as she would have been had not +her father so long looked like death and so often been near dying. + +"Stay at home until I see how this is going to turn out. Telephone your +sister to be within easy call. But don't let her come here. She's not +fit to be about an ill person. The sight of her pulling a long, sad +face might carry him off in a fit of rage." + +Jane observed him with curiosity in the light streaming from the front +hall. "You're a very practical person aren't you?" she said. + +"No romance, no idealism, you mean?" + +"Yes." + +He laughed in his plain, healthy way. "Not a frill," said he. "I'm +interested only in facts. They keep me busy enough." + +"You're not married, are you?" + +"Not yet. But I shall be as soon as I find a woman I want." + +"IF you can get her." + +"I'll get her, all right," replied he. "No trouble about that. The +woman I want'll want me." + +"I'm eager to see her," said Jane. "She'll be a queer one." + +"Not necessarily," said he. "But I'll make her a queer one before I +get through with her--queer, in my sense, meaning sensible and useful." + +"You remind me so often of Victor Dorn, yet you're not at all like him." + +"We're in the same business--trying to make the human race fit to +associate with. He looks after the minds; I look after the bodies. +Mine's the humbler branch of the business, perhaps--but it's equally +necessary, and it comes first. The chief thing that's wrong with human +nature is bad health. I'm getting the world ready for Victor." + +"You like him?" + +"I worship him," said Charlton in his most matter-of-fact way. + +"Yet he's just the opposite of you. He's an idealist." + +"Who told you that?" laughed Charlton. "He's the most practical, +sensible man in this town. You people think he's a crank because he +isn't crazy about money or about stepping round on the necks of his +fellow beings. The truth is, he's got a sense of proportion--and a +sense of humor--and an idea of a rational happy life. You're still +barbarians, while he's a civilized man. Ever seen an ignorant yap jeer +when a neat, clean, well-dressed person passed by? Well, you people +jeering at Victor Dorn are like that yap." + +"I agree with you," said Jane hastily and earnestly. + +"No, you don't," replied Charlton, tossing away the end of his +cigarette. "And so much the worse for you. Good-night, lady." + +And away he strode into the darkness, leaving her amused, yet with a +peculiar sense of her own insignificance. + +Charlton was back again early the next morning and spent that day--and +a large part of many days there-after--in working at the wreck, Martin +Hastings, inspecting known weak spots, searching for unknown ones, +patching here and there, trying all the schemes teeming in his +ingenious and supremely sensible mind in the hope of setting the wreck +afloat again. He could not comprehend why the old man remained alive. +He had seen many a human being go who was in health, in comparison with +this conglomerate of diseases and frailties; yet life there was, and a +most tenacious life. He worked and watched, and from day to day put +off suggesting that they telegraph for the son. The coming of his son +might shake Martin's conviction that he would get well; it seemed to +Charlton that that conviction was the one thread holding his patient +from the abyss where darkness and silence reign supreme. + +Jane could not leave the grounds. If she had she would have seen +Victor Dorn either not at all or at a distance. For the campaign was +now approaching its climax. + +The public man is always two wholly different personalities. There is +the man the public sees--and fancies it knows. There is the man known +only to his intimates, known imperfectly to them, perhaps an unknown +quantity even to himself until the necessity for decisive action +reveals him to himself and to those in a position to see what he really +did. Unfortunately, it is not the man the public sees but the hidden +man who is elected to the office. Nothing could be falser than the old +saw that sooner or later a man stands revealed. Sometimes, as we well +know, history has not found out a man after a thousand years of +studying him. And the most familiar, the most constantly observed men +in public life often round out a long career without ever having +aroused in the public more than a faint and formless suspicion as to +the truth about them. + +The chief reason for this is that, in studying a character, no one is +content with the plain and easy way of reaching an understanding of +it--the way of looking only at its ACTS. We all love to dabble in the +metaphysical, to examine and weigh motives and intentions, to compare +ourselves and make wildly erroneous judgment inevitable by listening to +the man's WORDS--his professions, always more or less dishonest, though +perhaps not always deliberately so. + +In that Remsen City campaign the one party that could profit by the +full and clear truth, and therefore was eager for the truth as to +everything and everybody, was the Workingmen's League. The Kelly +crowd, the House gang, the Citizens' Alliance, all had their ugly +secrets, their secret intentions different from their public +professions. All these were seeking office and power with a view to +increasing or perpetuating or protecting various abuses, however +ardently they might attack, might perhaps honestly intend to end, +certain other and much smaller abuses. The Workingmen's League said +that it would end every abuse existing law did not securely protect, +and it meant what it said. + +Its campaign fund was the dues paid in by its members and the profits +from the New Day. Its financial books were open for free inspection. +Not so the others--and that in itself was proof enough of sinister +intentions. + +Under Victor Dorn's shrewd direction, the League candidates published, +each man in a sworn statement, a complete description of all the +property owned by himself and by his wife. "The character of a man's +property," said the New Day, "is an indication of how that man will act +in public affairs. Therefore, every candidate for public trust owes it +to the people to tell them just what his property interests are. The +League candidates do this--and an effective answer the schedules make +to the charge that the League's candidates are men who have 'no stake +in the community.' Now, let Mr. Sawyer, Mr. Hull, Mr. Galland and the +rest of the League's opponents do likewise. Let us read how many +shares of water and ice stock Mr. Sawyer owns. Let us hear from Mr. +Hull about his traction holdings--those of the Hull estate from which +he draws his entire income. As for Mr. Galland, it would be easier for +him to give the list of public and semi-public corporations in which he +is not largely interested. But let him be specific, since he asks the +people to trust him as judge between them and those corporations of +which he is almost as large an owner as is his father-in-law." + +This line of attack--and the publication of the largest contributors to +the Republican and Democratic-Reform campaign fund--caused a great deal +of public and private discussion. Large crowds cheered Hull when he, +without doing the charges the honor of repeating them, denounced the +"undignified and demagogic methods of our desperate opponents." The +smaller Sawyer crowds applauded Sawyer when he waxed indignant over the +attempts of those "socialists and anarchists, haters of this free +country and spitters upon its glorious flag, to set poor against rich, +to destroy our splendid American tradition of a free field and no +favors, and let the best man win!" + +Sawyer, and Davy, all the candidates of the machines and the reformers +for that matter, made excellent public appearances. They discoursed +eloquently about popular rights and wrongs. They denounced corruption; +they stood strongly for the right and renounced and denounced the devil +and all his works. They promised to do far more for the people than +did the Leaguers; for Victor Dorn had trained his men to tell the exact +truth--the difficulty of doing anything for the people at any near time +or in any brief period because at a single election but a small part of +the effective offices could be changed, and sweeping changes must be +made before there could be sweeping benefits. "We'll do all we can," +was their promise. "Their county government and their state government +and their courts won't let us do much. But a beginning has to be made. +Let's make it!" + +David Hull's public appearance was especially good. Not so effective +as it has now become, because he was only a novice at campaigning in +that year. But he looked, well--handsome, yet not too handsome, upper +class, but not arrogant, serious, frank and kindly. And he talked in a +plain, honest way--you felt that no interest, however greedy, desperate +and powerful, would dare approach that man with an improper +proposal--and you quite forgot in real affairs the crude improper +proposal is never the method of approach. When Davy, with grave +emotion, referred to the "pitiful efforts to smirch the personal +character of candidates," you could not but burn with scorn of the +Victor Dorn tactics. What if Hull did own gas and water and ice and +traction and railway stocks? Mustn't a rich man invest his money +somehow? And how could he more creditably invest it than in local +enterprises and in enterprises that opened up the country and gave +employment to labor? What if the dividends were improperly, even +criminally, earned? Must he therefore throw the dividends paid him +into the street? As for a man of such associations and financial +interests being unfit fairly to administer public affairs, what +balderdash! Who could be more fit than this educated, high minded man, +of large private means, willing to devote himself to the public service +instead of drinking himself to death or doing nothing at all. You +would have felt, as you looked at Davy and listened to him, that it was +little short of marvelous that a man could be so self-sacrificing as to +consent to run the gauntlet of low mudslingers for no reward but an +office with a salary of three thousand a year. And you would have been +afraid that, if something was not done to stop these mudslingers, such +men as David Hull would abandon their patriotic efforts to save their +country--and then WHAT would become of the country? + +But Victor and his associates--on the platform, in the paper, in +posters and dodgers and leaflets--continued to press home the ugly +questions--and continued to call attention to the fact that, while +there had been ample opportunity, none of the candidates had answered +any of the questions. And presently--keeping up this line of +attack--Victor opened out in another. He had Falconer, the League +candidate for judge, draw up a careful statement of exactly what each +public officer could do under existing law to end or to check the most +flagrant of the abuses from which the people of Remsen City were +suffering. With this statement as a basis, he formulated a series of +questions--"Yes or no? If you are elected, will you or will you not?" +The League candidates promptly gave the specific pledges. Sawyer +dodged. David Hull was more adroit. He held up a copy of the list of +questions at a big meeting in Odd Fellows' Hall. + +"Our opponents have resorted to a familiar trick--the question and the +pledge." (Applause. Sensation. Fear lest "our candidate" was about +to "put his foot in it.") "We need resort to no tricks. I promptly +and frankly, for our whole ticket, answer their questions. I say, 'We +will lay hold of ANY and EVERY abuse, as soon as it presents itself, +and WILL SMASH IT." + +Applause, cheers, whistlings--a demonstration lasting nearly five +minutes by a watch held by Gamaliel Tooker, who had a mania for +gathering records of all kinds and who had voted for every Republican +candidate for President since the party was founded. Davy did not again +refer to Victor Dorn's questions. But Victor continued to press them +and to ask whether a public officer ought not to go and present himself +to abuses, instead of waiting for them to hunt him out and present +themselves to him. + +Such was the campaign as the public saw it. And such was in reality +the campaign of the Leaguers. But the real campaign--the one conducted +by Kelly and House--was entirely different. They were not talking; +they were working. + +They were working on a plan based somewhat after this fashion: + +In former and happier days, when people left politics to politicians +and minded their own business, about ninety-five per cent. of the +voters voted their straight party tickets like good soldiers. Then +politics was a high-class business, and politicians devoted themselves +to getting out the full party vote and to buying or cajoling to one +side or the other the doubtful ten per cent that held the balance of +power. That golden age, however, had passed. People had gotten into +the habit of fancying that, because certain men had grown very, very +rich through their own genius for money-making, supplemented perhaps by +accidental favors from law and public officials, therefore politics in +some way might possibly concern the private citizen, might account for +the curious discrepancy between his labor and its reward. The +impression was growing that, while the energy of the citizen determined +the PRODUCTION of wealth, it was politics that determined the +distribution of wealth. And under the influence of this impression, +the percentage of sober, steady, reliable voters who "stood by the +grand old party" had shrunk to about seventy, while the percentage of +voters who had to be worried about had grown to about thirty. + +The Kelly-House problem was, what shall we do as to that annoying +thirty per cent? + +Kelly--for he was THE brain of the bi-partisan machine, proposed to +throw the election to the House-Reform "combine." His henchmen and +House's made a careful poll, and he sat up all night growing haggard +and puffy-eyed over the result. According to this poll, not only was +the League's entire ticket to be elected, but also Galland, despite his +having the Republican, the Democratic and the Reform nominations, was +to be beaten by the League's Falconer. He couldn't understand it. The +Sawyer meetings were quite up to his expectations and indicated that +the Republican rank and file was preparing to swallow the Sawyer dose +without blinking. The Alliance and the Democratic meetings were +equally satisfactory. Hull was "making a hit." Everywhere he had big +crowds and enthusiasm. The League meetings were only slightly better +attended than during the last campaign; no indication there of the +League "landslide." + +Yet Kelly could not, dared not, doubt that poll. It was his only safe +guide. And it assured him that the long-dreaded disaster was at hand. +In vain was the clever trick of nominating a popular, "clean" young +reformer and opposing him with an unpopular regular of the most +offensive type--more offensive even than a professional politician of +unsavory record. At last victory was to reward the tactics of Victor +Dorn, the slow, patient building which for several years now had been +rasping the nerves of Boss Kelly. + +What should he do? + +It was clear to him that the doom of the old system was settled. The +plutocrats, the upper-class crowd--the "silk stockings," as they had +been called from the days when men wore knee-breeches--they fancied +that this nation-wide movement was sporadic, would work out in a few +years, and that the people would return to their allegiance. Kelly had +no such delusions. Issuing from the depths of the people, he +understood. They were learning a little something at last. They were +discovering that the ever higher prices for everything and stationary +or falling wages and salaries had some intimate relation with politics; +that at the national capitol, at the state capitol, in the county +courthouse, in the city hall their share of the nation's vast annual +production of wealth was being determined--and that the persons doing +the dividing, though elected by them, were in the employ of the +plutocracy. Kelly, seeing and comprehending, felt that it behooved him +to get for his masters--and for himself--all that could be got in the +brief remaining time. Not that he was thinking of giving up the game; +nothing so foolish as that. It would be many a year before the +plutocracy could be routed out, before the people would have the +intelligence and the persistence to claim and to hold their own. In +the meantime, they could be fooled and robbed by a hundred tricks. He +was not a constitutional lawyer, but he had practical good sense, and +could enjoy the joke upon the people in their entanglement in the toils +of their own making. Through fear of governmental tyranny they had +divided authority among legislators, executives and judges, national, +state, local. And, behold, outside of the government, out where they +had never dreamed of looking, had grown up a tyranny that was +perpetuating itself by dodging from one of these divided authorities to +another, eluding capture, wearing out the not too strong perseverance +of popular pursuit. + +But, thanks to Victor Dorn, the local graft was about to be taken away +from the politicians and the plutocracy. How put off that unpleasant +event? Obviously, in the only way left unclosed. The election must be +stolen. + +It is a very human state of mind to feel that what one wants somehow +has already become in a sense one's property. It is even more +profoundly human to feel that what one has had, however wrongfully, +cannot justly be taken away. So Mr. Kelly did not regard himself as a +thief, taking what did not belong to him; no, he was holding on to and +defending his own. + +Victor Dorn had not been in politics since early boyhood without +learning how the political game is conducted in all its branches. + +Because there had never been the remotest chance of victory, Victor had +never made preelection polls of his party. So the first hint that he +got of there being a real foundation for the belief of some of his +associates in an impending victory was when he found out that Kelly and +House were "colonizing" voters, and were selecting election officers +with an eye to "dirty work." These preparations, he knew, could not be +making for the same reason as in the years before the "gentlemen's +agreement" between the Republican and the Democratic machines. Kelly, +he knew, wanted House and the Alliance to win. Therefore, the +colonizations in the slums and the appointing of notorious buckos to +positions where they would control the ballot boxes could be directed +only against the Workingmen's League. Kelly must have accurate +information that the League was likely, or at least not unlikely, to +win. + +Victor had thought he had so schooled himself that victory and defeat +were mere words to him. He soon realized how he had overestimated the +power of philosophy over human nature. During that campaign he had +been imagining that he was putting all his ability, all his energy, all +his resourcefulness into the fight. He now discovered his mistake. +Hope--definite hope--of victory had hardly entered his mind before he +was organizing and leading on such a campaign as Remsen City had never +known in all its history--and Remsen City was in a state where politics +is the chief distraction of the people. Sleep left him; he had no need +of sleep. Day and night his brain worked, pouring out a steady stream +of ideas. He became like a gigantic electric storage battery to which +a hundred, a thousand small batteries come for renewal. He charged his +associates afresh each day. And they in turn became amazingly more +powerful forces for acting upon the minds of the people. + +In the last week of the campaign it became common talk throughout the +city that the "Dorn crowd" would probably carry the election. Kelly +was the only one of the opposition leaders who could maintain a calm +front. Kelly was too seasoned a gambler even to show his feelings in +his countenance, but, had he been showing them, his following would not +have been depressed, for he had made preparations to meet and overcome +any majority short of unanimity which the people might roll up against +him. The discouragement in the House-Alliance camps became so apparent +that Kelly sent his chief lieutenant, Wellman, successor to the +fugitive Rivers, to House and to David Hull with a message. It was +delivered to Hull in this form: + +"The old man says he wants you to stop going round with your chin +knocking against your knees. He says everybody is saying you have +given up the fight." + +"Our meetings these last few days are very discouraging," said Davy +gloomily. + +"What's meetin's?" retorted Wellman. "You fellows that shoot off your +mouths think you're doing the campaigning. But the real stuff is being +doped up by us fellows who ain't seen or heard. The old man says you +are going to win. That's straight. He knows. It's only a question of +the size of your majority. So pull yourself together, Mr. Hull, and +put the ginger back into your speeches, and stir up that there gang of +dudes. What a gang of Johnnies and quitters they are!" + +Hull was looking directly and keenly at the secret messenger. Upon his +lips was a question he dared not ask. Seeing the impudent, disdainful +smile in Wellman's eyes, he hastily shifted his glance. It was most +uncomfortable, this suspicion of the hidden meaning of the Kelly +message--a suspicion ALMOST confirmed by that mocking smile of the +messenger. Hull said with embarrassment: + +"Tell Mr. Kelly I'm much obliged." + +"And you'll begin to make a fight again?" + +"Certainly," said Davy impatiently. + +When he was alone he became once more involved in one of those internal +struggles to prevent himself from seeing--and smelling--a hideous and +malodorous truth. These struggles were painfully frequent. The only +consolation the young reformer found was that they were increasingly +less difficult to end in the way such struggles must be ended if a +high-minded young man is to make a career in "practical" life. + +On election day after he had voted he went for a long walk in the woods +to the south of the town, leaving word at his headquarters what +direction he had taken. After walking two hours he sat down on a log +in the shade near where the highroad crossed Foaming Creek. He became +so absorbed in his thoughts that he sprang to his feet with a wild look +when Selma's voice said, close by: + +"May I interrupt a moment, Mr. Hull?" + +He recovered slowly. His cheeks were pale and his voice uncertain as +he replied: + +"You? I beg your pardon. This campaign has played smash with my +nerves." + +He now noted that she was regarding him with a glance so intense that +it seemed to concentrate all the passion and energy in that slim, +nervous body of hers. He said uncomfortably: + +"You wished to see me?" + +"I wonder what you were thinking about," she said in her impetuous, +direct way. "It makes me almost afraid to ask what I came to ask." + +"Won't you sit?" said he. + +"No, thanks," replied she. + +"Then you'll compel me to stand. And I'm horribly tired." + +She seated herself upon the log. He made himself comfortable at its +other end. + +"I've just come from Victor Dorn's house," said she. "There was a +consultation among the leaders of our party. We have learned that your +people--Kelly and House--are going to steal the election on the count +this evening. They are committing wholesale frauds now--sending round +gangs of repeaters, intimidating our voters, openly buying votes at the +polling places--paying men as much not to vote as they usually pay for +votes." + +Davy, though latterly he had grown so much older and graver that no one +now thought of him as Davy, contrived to muster a smile of amusement. +"You oughtn't to let them deceive you with that silly talk, Miss +Gordon. The losers always indulge in it. Your good sense must tell +you how foolish it is. The police are on guard, and the courts of +justice are open." + +"Yes--the police are on guard--to protect fraud and to drive us away +from the polls. And the courts are open--but not for us." + +David was gentle with her. "I know how sincere you are, Selma," said +he. "No doubt you believe those things. Perhaps Dorn believes them, +also--from repeating them so often. But all the same I'm sorry to hear +you say them." + +He tried to look at her. He found that his eyes were more comfortable +when his glance was elsewhere. + +"This has been a sad campaign to me," he went on. "I did not +appreciate before what demagogery meant--how dangerous it is--how +wicked, how criminally wicked it is for men to stir up the lower +classes against the educated leadership of the community." + +Selma laughed contemptuously. "What nonsense, David Hull--and from +YOU!" she cried. "By educated leadership do you mean the traction and +gas and water and coal and iron and produce thieves? Or do you mean the +officials and the judges who protect them and license them to rob?" +Her eyes flashed. "At this very moment, in our town, those thieves and +their agents, the police and the courts, are committing the most +frightful crime known to a free people. Yet the masses are submitting +peaceably. How long the upper class has to indulge in violence, and +how savagely cruel it has to be, before the people even murmur. But I +didn't come here to remind you of what you already know. I came to ask +you, as a man whom I have respected, to assert his manhood--if there is +any of it left after this campaign of falsehood and shifting." + +"Selma!" he protested energetically, but still avoiding her eyes. + +"Those wretches are stealing that election for you, David Hull. Are you +going to stand for it? Or, will you go into town and force Kelly to +stop?" + +"If anything wrong is being done by Kelly," said David, "it must be for +Sawyer." + +Selma rose. "At our consultation," said she quietly and even with no +suggestion of repressed emotion, "they debated coming to you and laying +the facts before you. They decided against it. They were right; I was +wrong. I pity you, David Hull. Good-by." + +She walked away. He hesitated, observing her. His eyes lighted up +with the passion he believed his good sense had conquered. "Selma, +don't misjudge me!" he cried, following her. "I am not the scoundrel +they're making you believe me. I love you!" + +She wheeled upon him so fiercely that he started back. "How dare you!" +she said, her voice choking with anger. "You miserable fraud! You +bellwether for the plutocracy, to lead reform movements off on a false +scent, off into the marshes where they'll be suffocated." She looked +at him from head to foot with a withering glance. "No doubt, you'll +have what's called a successful career. You'll be their traitor leader +for the radicals they want to bring to confusion. When the people cry +for a reform you'll shout louder than anybody else--and you'll be made +leader--and you'll lead--into the marshes. Your followers will perish, +but you'll come back, ready for the next treachery for which the +plutocracy needs you. And you'll look honest and respectable--and +you'll talk virtue and reform and justice. But you'll know what you +are yourself. David Hull, I despise you as much as you despise +yourself." + +He did not follow as she walked away. He returned to the log, and +slowly reseated himself. He was glad of the violent headache that made +thought impossible. + + +Remsen City, boss-ridden since the Civil War, had experienced many a +turbulent election day and night. The rivalries of the two bosses, +contending for the spoils where the electorate was evenly divided, had +made the polling places in the poorer quarters dangerous all day and +scenes of rioting at night. But latterly there had been a notable +improvement. People who entertained the pleasant and widespread +delusion that statute laws offset the habits and customs of men, +restrain the strong and protect the weak, attributed the improvement to +sundry vigorously worded enactments of the legislature on the subject +of election frauds. In fact, the real bottom cause of the change was +the "gentlemen's agreement" between the two party machines whereunder +both entered the service of the same master, the plutocracy. + +Never in Remsen City history had there been grosser frauds than those +of this famous election day, and never had the frauds been so open. A +day of scandal was followed by an evening of shame; for to overcome the +League the henchmen of Kelly and House had to do a great deal of +counting out and counting in, of mutilating ballots, of destroying +boxes with their contents. Yet never had Remsen City seen so peaceful +an election. Representatives of the League were at every polling +place. They protested; they took names of principals and witnesses in +each case of real or suspected fraud. They appealed to the courts from +time to time and got rulings--always against them, even where the +letter of the decision was in their favor. They did all this in the +quietest manner conceivable, without so much as an expression of +indignation. And when the results were announced--a sweeping victory +for Hull and the fusion ticket, Hugo Galland elected by five hundred +over Falconer--the Leaguers made no counter demonstration as the +drunken gangs of machine heelers paraded in the streets with bands and +torches. + +Kelly observed and was uneasy. What could be the meaning of this meek +acceptance of a theft so flagrant that the whole town was talking about +it? What was Victor Dorn's "game"? + +He discovered the next day. The executive committee of the League +worked all night; the League's printers and presses worked from six +o'clock in the morning until ten. At half-past ten Remsen City was +flooded with a special edition of the New Day, given away by Leaguers +and their wives and sons and daughters--a monster special edition paid +for with the last money in the League's small campaign chest. This +special was a full account of the frauds that had been committed. No +indictment could have been more complete, could have carried within +itself more convincing proofs of the truth of its charges. The New Day +declared that the frauds were far more extensive than it was able to +prove; but it insisted upon, and took into account, only those frauds +that could be proved in a "court of justice--if Remsen City had a court +of justice, which the treatment of the League's protectors at the +Courthouse yesterday shows that it has not." The results of the +League's investigations were tabulated. The New Day showed: + +First, that while Harbinger, the League candidate for Mayor, had +actually polled 5,280 votes at least, and David Hull had polled less +than 3,950, the election had been so manipulated that in the official +count 4,827 votes were given to Hull and 3,980 votes to Harbinger. + +Second, that in the actual vote Falconer had beaten Hugo Galland by +1,230 at least; that in the official count Galland was declared elected +by a majority of 672. + +Third, that these results were brought about by wholesale fraudulent +voting, one gang of twenty-two repeaters casting upwards of a thousand +votes at the various polling places; also by false counting, the number +of votes reported exceeding the number cast by between two and three +thousand. + +As a piece of workmanship the document was an amazing illustration of +the genius of Victor Dorn. Instead of violence against violence, +instead of vague accusation, here was a calm, orderly proof of the +League's case, of the outrage that had been done the city and its +citizens. Before night fell the day after the election there was no +one in Remsen City who did not know the truth. + +The three daily newspapers ignored the special. They continued to +congratulate Remsen City upon the "vindication of the city's fame for +sound political sense," as if there had been no protest against the +official version of the election returns. Nor did the press of the +state or the country contain any reference to the happenings at Remsen +City. But Remsen City knew, and that was the main point sought by +Victor Dorn. + +A committee of the League with copies of the special edition and +transcripts of the proofs in the possession of the League went in +search of David Hull and Hugo Galland. Both were out of town, "resting +in retirement from the fatigue of the campaign." The prosecuting +attorney of the county was seen, took the documents, said he would look +into the matter, bowed the committee out--and did as Kelly counted on +his doing. The grand jury heard, but could not see its way clear to +returning indictments; no one was upon a grand jury in that county +unless he had been passed by Kelly or House. Judge Freilig and Judge +Lansing referred the committee to the grand jury and to the county +prosecutor. + +When the League had tried the last avenue to official justice and had +found the way barred, House meeting Kelly in the Palace Hotel cafe', +said: + +"Well, Richard, I guess it's all over." Kelly nodded. "You've got away +with the goods." + +"I'm surprised at Dorn's taking it so quietly," said House. "I rather +expected he'd make trouble." + +Kelly vented a short, grunting laugh. "Trouble--hell!" ejaculated he. +"If he'd 'a' kicked up a fight we'd 'a' had him. But he was too 'cute +for that, damn him. So next time he wins." + +"Oh, folks ain't got no memories--especially for politics," said House +easily. + +"You'll see," retorted Kelly. "The next mayor of this town'll be a +Leaguer, and by a majority that can't be trifled with. So make hay +while the sun shines, Joe. After this administration there'll be a +long stretch of bad weather for haying." + +"I'm trying to get hold of Hull," said House, and it was not difficult +to read his train of thought. "I was a LEETLE afraid he was going to +be scared by that document of Dorn's--and was going to do something +crazy." + +Again Kelly emitted his queer grunting laugh. "I guess he was a LEETLE +afraid he would, too, and ran away and hid to get back his nerve." + +"Oh, he's all right. He's a pushing, level-headed fellow, and won't +make no trouble. Don't you think so?" + +"Trouble? I should say not. How can he--if he takes the job?" + +To which obvious logic no assent was necessary. + +Davy's abrupt departure was for the exact reason Mr. Kelly ascribed. +And he had taken Hugo with him because he feared that he would say or +do something to keep the scandal from dying the quick death of all +scandals. There was the less difficulty in dissuading him from staying +to sun himself in the glories of his new rank and title because his +wife had cast him adrift for the time and was stopping at the house of +her father, whose death was hourly expected. + +Old Hastings had been in a stupor for several weeks. He astonished +everybody, except Dr. Charlton, by rousing on election night and asking +how the battle had gone. + +"And he seemed to understand what I told him," said Jane. + +"Certainly he understood," replied Charlton. "The only part of him +that's in any sort of condition is his mind, because it's the only part +of him that's been properly exercised. Most people die at the top +first because they've never in all their lives used their minds when +they could possibly avoid it." + +In the week following the election he came out of his stupor again. He +said to the nurse: + +"It's about supper time, ain't it?" + +"Yes," answered she. "They're all down at din--supper. Shall I call +them?" + +"No," said he. "I want to go down to her room." + +"To Miss Jane's room?" asked the puzzled nurse. + +"To my wife's room," said Hastings crossly. + +The nurse, a stranger, thought his mind was wandering. "Certainly," +said she soothingly. "In a few minutes--as soon as you've rested a +while." + +"You're a fool!" mumbled Hastings. "Call Jinny." + +The nurse obeyed. When he repeated his request to Jane, she hesitated. +The tears rolled down his cheeks. "I know what I'm about," he pleaded. +"Send for Charlton. He'll tell you to let me have my way." + +Jane decided that it was best to yield. The shrunken figure, weighing +so little that it was terrifying to lift it, was wrapped warmly, and +put in an invalid chair. With much difficulty the chair was got out +into the hall and down the stairs. Then they wheeled it into the room +where he was in the habit of sitting after supper. When he was +opposite the atrocious crayon enlargement of his wife an expression of +supreme content settled upon his features. Said he: + +"Go back to your supper, Jinny. Take the nurse woman with you. I want +to be by myself." + +The nurse glanced stealthily in from time to time during the next hour. +She saw that his eyes were open, were fixed upon the picture. When +Jane came she ventured to enter. She said: + +"Do you mind my sitting with you, father?" + +He did not answer. She went to him, touched him. He was dead. + +As a rule death is not without mitigations, consolations even. Where it +is preceded by a long and troublesome illness, disrupting the routine +of the family and keeping everybody from doing the things he or she +wishes, it comes as a relief. In this particular case not only was the +death a relief, but also the estate of the dead man provided all the +chief mourners with instant and absorbing occupation. If he had left a +will, the acrimony of the heirs would have been caused by +dissatisfaction with his way of distributing the property. Leaving no +will, he plunged the three heirs--or, rather, the five heirs, for the +husband of Martha and the wife of the son were most important +factors--he plunged the five heirs into a ferment of furious dispute as +to who was to have what. Martha and her husband and the +daughter-in-law were people of exceedingly small mind. Trifles, +therefore, agitated them to the exclusion of larger matters. The three +fell to quarreling violently over the division of silverware, jewelry +and furniture. Jane was so enraged by the "disgusting spectacle" that +she proceeded to take part in it and to demand everything which she +thought it would irritate Martha Galland or Irene Hastings to have to +give up. + +The three women and Hugo--for Hugo loved petty wrangling--spent day +after day in the bitterest quarrels. Each morning Jane, ashamed +overnight, would issue from her room resolved to have no part in the +vulgar rowdyism. Before an hour had passed she would be the angriest +of the disputants. Except her own unquestioned belongings there wasn't +a thing in the house or stables about which she cared in the least. +But there was a principle at stake--and for principle she would fight +in the last ditch. + +None of them wished to call in arbitrators or executors; why go to that +expense? So, the bickering and wrangling, the insults and tears and +sneers went on from day to day. At last they settled the whole matter +by lot--and by a series of easily arranged exchanges where the results +of the drawings were unsatisfactory. Peace was restored, but not +liking. Each of the three groups--Hugo and Martha, Will and Irene, +Jane in a group by herself--detested the other two. They felt that +they had found each other out. As Martha said to Hugo, "It takes a +thing of this kind to show people up in their true colors." Or, as +Jane said to Doctor Charlton, "What beasts human beings are!" + +Said he: "What beasts circumstance makes of some of them sometimes." + +"You are charitable," said Jane. + +"I am scientific," replied he. "It's very intelligent to go about +distributing praise and blame. To do that is to obey a slightly higher +development of the instinct that leads one to scowl at and curse the +stone he stumps his toe on. The sensible thing to do is to look at the +causes of things--of brutishness in human beings, for example--and to +remove those causes." + +"It was wonderful, the way you dragged father back to life and almost +saved him. That reminds me. Wait a second, please." + +She went up to her room and got the envelope addressed to Charlton +which she had found in the drawer, as her father directed. Charlton +opened it, took out five bank notes each of a thousand dollars. She +glanced at the money, then at his face. It did not express the emotion +she was expecting. On the contrary, its look was of pleased curiosity. + +"Five thousand dollars," he said, reflectively. "Your father certainly +was a queer mixture of surprises and contradictions. Now, who would +have suspected him of a piece of sentiment like this? Pure sentiment. +He must have felt that I'd not be able to save him, and he knew my bill +wouldn't be one-tenth this sum." + +"He liked you, and admired you," said Jane. + +"He was very generous where he liked and admired." + +Charlton put the money back in the envelope, put the envelope in his +pocket. "I'll give the money to the Children's Hospital," said he. +"About six months ago I completed the sum I had fixed on as necessary +to my independence; so, I've no further use for money--except to use it +up as it comes in." + +"You may marry some day," suggested Jane. + +"Not a woman who wishes to be left richer than independent," replied +he. "As for the children, they'll be brought up to earn their own +independence. I'll leave only incubators and keepsakes when I die. +But no estate. I'm not that foolish and inconsiderate." + +"What a queer idea!" exclaimed Jane. + +"On the contrary, it's simplest common sense. The idea of giving +people something they haven't earned--that's the queer idea." + +"You are SO like Victor Dorn!" + +"That reminds me!" exclaimed Charlton. "It was very negligent of me to +forget. The day your father died I dropped in on Victor and told +him--him and Selma Gordon--about it. And both asked me to take you +their sympathy. They said a great deal about your love for your +father, and how sad it was to lose him. They were really distressed." + +Jane's face almost brightened. "I've been rather hurt because I hadn't +received a word of sympathy from--them," she said. + +"They'd have come, themselves, except that politics has made a very +ugly feeling against them--and Galland's your brother-in-law." + +"I understand," said Jane. "But I'm not Galland--and not of that +party." + +"Oh, yes, you are of that party," replied Charlton. "You draw your +income from it, and one belongs to whatever he draws his income from. +Civilization means property--as yet. And it doesn't mean men and +women--as yet. So, to know the man or the woman we look at the +property." + +"That's hideously unjust," cried Jane. + +"Don't be utterly egotistical," said Charlton. "Don't attach so much +importance to your little, mortal, WEAK personality. Try to realize +that you're a mere chip in the great game of chance. You're a chip with +the letter P on it--which stands for Plutocracy. And you'll be played +as you're labeled." + +"You make it very hard for any one to like you." + +"Well--good-by, then." + +And ignoring her hasty, half-laughing, half-serious protests he took +himself away. She was intensely irritated. A rapid change in her +outward character had been going forward since her father's death--a +change in the direction of intensifying the traits that had always been +really dominant, but had been less apparent because softened by other +traits now rapidly whithering. + +The cause of the change was her inheritance. + +Martin Hastings, remaining all his life in utter ignorance of the showy +uses of wealth and looking on it with the eyes of a farm hand, had +remained the enriched man of the lower classes, at heart a member of +his original class to the end. The effect of this upon Jane had been +to keep in check all the showy and arrogant, all the upper class, +tendencies which education and travel among the upper classes of the +East and of Europe had implanted in her. So long as plain old Martin +lived, she could not FEEL the position she had--or, rather, would some +day have--in the modern social system. But just as soon as he passed +away, just as soon as she became a great heiress, actually in +possession of that which made the world adore, that which would buy +servility, flattery, awe--just so soon did she begin to be an +upper-class lady. + +She had acquired a superficial knowledge of business--enough to enable +her to understand what the various items in the long, long schedule of +her holdings meant. Symbols of her importance, of her power. She had +studied the "great ladies" she had met in her travels and visitings. +She had been impressed by the charm of the artistic, carefully +cultivated air of simplicity and equality affected by the greatest of +these great ladies as those born to wealth and position. To be gentle +and natural, to be gracious--that was the "proper thing." So, she now +adopted a manner that was if anything too kindly. Her pose, her mask, +behind which she was concealing her swollen and still swelling pride +and sense of superiority, as yet fitted badly. She "overacted," as +youth is apt to do. She would have given a shrewd observer--one not +dazzled by her wealth beyond the power of clear sight--the impression +that she was pitying the rest of mankind, much as we all pity and +forbear with a hopeless cripple. + +But the average observer would simply have said: "What a sweet, +natural girl, so unspoiled by her wealth!"--just as the hopeless +cripple says, "What a polite person," as he gets the benefit of +effusive good manners that would, if he were shrewd, painfully remind +him that he was an unfortunate creature. + +Of all the weeds that infest the human garden snobbishness, the +commonest, is the most prolific, and it is a mighty cross breeder, +too--modifying every flower in the garden, changing colors from rich to +glaring, changing odors from perfumes to sickening-sweet or to +stenches. The dead hands of Martin Hastings scattered showers of +shining gold upon his daughter's garden; and from these seeds was +springing a heavy crop of that most prolific of weeds. + +She was beginning to resent Charlton's manner--bluff, unceremonious, +candid, at times rude. He treated women exactly as he treated men, and +he treated all men as intimates, free and easy fellow travelers afoot +upon a dusty, vulgar highway. She had found charm in that manner, so +natural to the man of no pretense, of splendid physical proportions, of +the health of a fine tree. She was beginning to get into the state of +mind at which practically all very rich people in a civilized society +sooner or later arrive--a state of mind that makes it impossible for +any to live with or near them except hirelings and dependents. The +habit of power of any kind breeds intolerance of equality of level +intercourse. This is held in check, often held entirely in check, +where the power is based upon mental superiority; for the very +superiority of the mind keeps alive the sense of humor and the sense of +proportion. Not so the habit of money power. For money power is +brutal, mindless. And as it is the only real power in any and all +aristocracies, aristocracies are inevitably brutal and brutalizing. + +If Jane had been poor, or had remained a few years longer--until her +character was better set--under the restraining influence of her +unfrilled and unfrillable father, her passion for power, for +superiority would probably have impelled her to develop her mind into a +source of power and position. Fate abruptly gave her the speediest and +easiest means to power known in our plutocratic civilization. She +would have had to be superhuman in beauty of character or a genius in +mind to have rejected the short and easy way to her goal and struggled +on in the long and hard--and doubtful--way. + +She did not herself appreciate the change within herself. She fancied +she was still what she had been two weeks before. For as yet nothing +had occurred to enable her to realize her changed direction, her +changed view of life. Thus, she was still thinking of Victor Dorn as +she had thought of him; and she was impatient to see him. She was now +free FREE! She could, without consulting anybody, have what she +wanted. And she wanted Victor Dorn. + +She had dropped from her horse and with her arm through the bridle was +strolling along one of the quieter roads which Victor often took in his +rambles. It was a tonic October day, with floods of sunshine upon the +gorgeous autumnal foliage, never more gorgeous than in that fall of the +happiest alternations of frost and warmth. She heard the pleasant +rustle of quick steps in the fallen leaves that carpeted the byroad. +She knew it was he before she glanced; and his first view of her face +was of its beauty enhanced by a color as delicate and charming as that +in the leaves about them. + +She looked at his hands in which he was holding something half +concealed. "What is it?" she said, to cover her agitation. + +He opened his hands a little wider. "A bird," said he. "Some hunter +has broken its wing. I'm taking it to Charlton for repairs and a fair +start for its winter down South." + +His eyes noted for an instant significantly her sombre riding costume, +then sought her eyes with an expression of simple and friendly +sympathy. The tears came to her eyes, and she turned her face away. +She for the first time had a sense of loss, a moving memory of her +father's goodness to her, of an element of tenderness that had passed +out of her life forever. And she felt abjectly ashamed--ashamed of her +relief at the lifting of the burden of his long struggle against death, +ashamed of her miserable wranglings with Martha and Billy's wife, +ashamed of her forgetfulness of her father in the exultation over her +wealth, ashamed of the elaborately fashionable mourning she was +wearing--and of the black horse she had bought to match. She hoped he +would not observe these last flauntings of the purely formal character +of a grief that was being utilized to make a display of fashionableness. + +"You always bring out the best there is in me," said she. + +He stood silently before her--not in embarrassment, for he was rarely +self-conscious enough to be embarrassed, but refraining from speech +simply because there was nothing to say. + +"I haven't heard any of the details of the election," she went on. +"Did you come out as well as you hoped?" + +"Better," said he. "As a result of the election the membership of the +League has already a little more than doubled. We could have quadrupled +it, but we are somewhat strict in our requirements. We want only those +who will stay members as long as they stay citizens of Remsen City. +But I must go on to Charlton or he'll be out on his rounds." + +She caught his glance, which was inclined to avoid hers. She gave him +a pleading look. "I'll walk with you part of the way," she said. + +He seemed to be searching for an excuse to get away. Whether because +he failed to find it or because he changed his mind, he said: "You'll +not mind going at a good gait?" + +"I'll ride," said she. "It's not comfortable, walking fast in these +boots." + +He stood by to help her, but let her get into the saddle alone. She +smiled down at him with a little coquetry. "Are you afraid to touch +me--to-day?" she asked. + +He laughed: "The bird IS merely an excuse," he admitted. "I've got +back my self-control, and I purpose to keep it." + +She flushed angrily. His frankness now seemed to her to be flavored +with impertinent assurance. "That's amusing," said she, with an +unpleasant smile. "You have an extraordinary opinion of yourself, +haven't you?" + +He shrugged his shoulders as if the subject did not interest him and +set off at a gait that compelled her horse to a rapid walk. She said +presently: + +"I'm going to live at the old place alone for the present. You'll come +to see me?" + +He looked at her. "No," he said. "As I told you a moment ago, that's +over. You'll have to find some one else to amuse you--for, I +understand perfectly, Jane, that you were only doing what's called +flirting. That sort of thing is a waste of time--for me. I'm not +competent to judge whether it's a waste for you." + +She looked coldly down at him. "You have changed since I last saw +you," she said. "I don't mean the change in your manner toward me. I +mean something deeper. I've often heard that politics makes a man +deteriorate. You must be careful, Victor." + +"I must think about that," said he. "Thank you for warning me." + +His prompt acceptance of her insincere criticism made her straightway +repentant. "No, it's I that have changed," she said. "Oh, I'm +horrid!--simply horrid. I'm in despair about myself." + +"Any one who thinks about himself is bound to be," said he +philosophically. "That's why one has to keep busy in order to keep +contented." He halted. "I can save a mile and half an hour by +crossing these fields." He held the wounded bird in one hand very +carefully while he lifted his hat. + +She colored deeply. "Victor," she said, "isn't there any way that you +and I can be friends?" + +"Yes," replied he. "As I told you before, by becoming one of us. +Those are impossible terms, of course. But that's the only way by +which we could be of use to each other. Jane, if I, professing what I +do profess, offered to be friends with you on any other terms, you'd be +very foolish not to reject my offer. For, it would mean that I was a +fraud. Don't you see that?" + +"Yes," she admitted. "But when I am with you I see everything exactly +as you represent it." + +"It's fortunate for you that I'm not disposed to take advantage of +that--isn't it?" said he, with good-humored irony. + +"You don't believe me!" + +"Not altogether," he confessed. "To be quite candid, I think that for +some reason or other I rouse in you an irresistible desire to pose. I +doubt if you realize it--wholly. But you'd be hard pressed just where +to draw the line between the sincere and the insincere, wouldn't +you--honestly?" + +She sat moodily combing at her horse's mane. + +"I know it's cruel," he went on lightly, "to deny anything, however +small, to a young lady who has always had her own way. But in +self-defense I must do it." + +"Why DO I take these things from you?" she cried, in sudden +exasperation. And touching her horse with her stick, she was off at a +gallop. + + + +IX + +From anger against Victor Dorn, Jane passed to anger against herself. +This was soon followed by a mood of self-denunciation, by astonishment +at the follies of which she had been guilty, by shame for them. She +could not scoff or scorn herself out of the infatuation. But at least +she could control herself against yielding to it. Recalling and +reviewing all he had said, she--that is, her vanity--decided that the +most important remark, the only really important remark, was his +declaration of disbelief in her sincerity. "The reason he has repulsed +me--and a very good reason it is--is that he thinks I am simply amusing +myself. If he thought I was in earnest, he would act very differently. +Very shrewd of him!" + +Did she believe this? Certainly not. But she convinced herself that +she believed it, and so saved her pride. From this point she proceeded +by easy stages to doubting whether, if Victor had taken her at her +word, she would have married him. And soon she had convinced herself +that she had gone so far only through her passion for conquest, that at +the first sign of his yielding her good sense would have asserted +itself and she could have retreated. + +"He knew me better than I knew myself," said she--not so thoroughly +convinced as her pride would have liked, but far better content with +herself than in those unhappy hours of humiliation after her last talk +with him. + +From the beginning of her infatuation there had been only a few days, +hardly more than a few hours, when the voice of prudence and good sense +had been silenced. Yes, he was right; they were not suited to each +other, and a marriage between them would have been absurd. He did +belong to a different, to a lower class, and he could never have +understood her. Refinement, taste, the things of the life of luxury +and leisure were incomprehensible to him. It might be unjust that the +many had to toil in squalor and sordidness while the few were +privileged to cultivate and to enjoy the graces and the beauties; but, +unjust or in some mysterious way just, there was the fact. Her life +was marked out for her; she was of the elect. She would do well to +accept her good fortune and live as the gods had ordained for her. + +If Victor had been different in that one respect! ... The +infatuation, too, was a fact. The wise course was flight--and she fled. + +That winter, in Chicago and in New York, Jane amused herself--in the +ways devised by latter day impatience with the folly of wasting a +precious part of the one brief life in useless grief or pretense of +grief. In Remsen City she would have had to be very quiet indeed, +under penalty of horrifying public sentiment. But Chicago and New York +knew nothing of her grief, cared nothing about grief of any kind. +People in deep mourning were found in the theaters, in the gay +restaurants, wherever any enjoyment was to be had; and very sensible it +was of them, and proof of the sincerity of their sorrow--for sincere +sorrow seeks consolation lest it go mad and commit suicide--does it not? + +Jane, young, beautiful, rich, clever, had a very good time indeed--so +good that in the spring, instead of going back to Remsen City to rest, +she went abroad. More enjoyment--or, at least, more of the things that +fill in the time and spare one the necessity of thinking. + +In August she suddenly left her friends at St. Moritz and journeyed +back to Remsen City as fast as train and boat and train could take her. +And on the front veranda of the old house she sat herself down and +looked out over the familiar landscape and listened to the katydids +lulling the woods and the fields, and was bored and wondered why she +had come. + +In a reckless mood she went down to see Victor Dorn. "I am cured," she +said to herself. "I must be cured. I simply can't be small and silly +enough to care for a country town labor agitator after all I've been +through--after the attentions I've had and the men of the world I've +met. I'm cured, and I must prove it to myself ." + +In the side yard Alice Sherrill and her children and several neighbor +girls were putting up pears and peaches, blackberries and plums. The +air was heavy with delicious odors of ripe and perfect fruit, and the +laughter, the bright healthy faces, the strong graceful bodies in all +manner of poses at the work required made a scene that brought tears to +Jane's eyes. Why tears she could not have explained, but there they +were. At far end of the arbor, looking exactly as he had in the same +place the year before, sat Victor Dorn, writing. He glanced up, saw +her! Into his face came a look of welcome that warmed her chilled heart. + +"Hel-LO!" he cried, starting up. "I AM glad to see you." + +"I'm mighty glad to be back," said she, lapsing with keen pleasure into +her native dialect. + +He took both her hands and shook them cordially, then looked at her +from head to foot admiringly. "The latest from the Rue de la Paix, I +suppose?" said he. + +They seated themselves with the table between them. She, under cover +of commonplaces about her travels, examined him with the utmost +calmness. She saw every point wherein he fell short of the men of her +class--the sort of men she ought to like and admire. But, oh, how dull +and stale and narrow and petty they were, beside this man. She knew +now why she had fled. She didn't want to love Victor Dorn, or to marry +him--or his sort of man. But he, his intense aliveness, his keen, +supple mind, had spoiled her for those others. One of them she could +not marry. "I should go mad with boredom. One can no more live +intimately with fashion than one can eat gold and drink diamonds. And, +oh, but I am hungry and thirsty!" + +"So you've had a good time?" he was saying. + +"Superb," replied she. "Such scenery--such variety of people. I love +Europe. But--I'm glad to be home again." + +"I don't see how you can stand it," said Victor. + +"Why?" inquired she in surprise. + +"Unless I had an intense personal interest in the most active kind of +life in a place like this, I should either fly or take to drink," +replied he. "In this world you've either got to invent occupation for +yourself or else keep where amusements and distractions are thrust at +you from rising till bed-time. And no amusements are thrust at you in +Remsen City." + +"But I've been trying the life of being amused," said Jane, "and I've +got enough." + +"For the moment," said Victor, laughing. "You'll go back. You've got +to. What else is there for you?" + +Her eyes abruptly became serious. "That's what I've come home to find +out," said she. Hesitatingly, "That's why I've come here to-day." + +He became curiously quiet--stared at the writing before him on the +table. After a while he said: + +"Jane, I was entirely too glad to see you to-day. I had----" + +"Don't say that," she pleaded. "Victor, it isn't a weakness----" + +His hand resting upon the table clenched into a fist and his brows drew +down. "There can be no question but that it is a weakness and a +folly," he pushed on. "I will not spoil your life and mine. You are +not for me, and I am not for you. The reason we hang on to this is +because each of us has a streak of tenacity. We don't want each other, +but we are so made that we can't let go of an idea once it has gotten +into our heads." + +"There is another reason," she said gently. "We are, both of us, +alone--and lonesome, Victor." + +"But I'm not alone. I'm not lonesome----" And there he abruptly +halted, to gaze at her with the expression of awakening and +astonishment. "I believe I'm wrong. I believe you're right," he +exclaimed. "I had never thought of that before." + +"You've been imagining your work, your cause was enough," she went on +in a quiet rational way that was a revelation--and a +self-revelation--of the real Jane Hastings. "But it isn't. There's a +whole other side of your nature--the--the--the private side--that's the +expression--the private side. And you've been denying to it its +rights." + +He reflected, nodded slowly. "I believe that's the truth," he said. +"It explains a curious feeling I've had--a sort of shriveling +sensation." He gazed thoughtfully at her, his face gradually relaxing +into a merry smile. + +"What is it?" asked she, smiling in turn. + +"We've both got to fall in love and marry," said he. "Not with each +other, of course--for we're not in any way mated. But love and +marriage and the rest of it--that's the solution. I don't need it +quite as much as you do, for I've got my work. But I need it. Now +that I see things in the right light I wonder that I've been so +stupidly blind. Why do we human beings always overlook the obvious?" + +"It isn't easy to marry," said Jane, rather drearily. "It isn't easy +to find some one with whom one would be willing to pass one's life. +I've had several chances--one or two of them not entirely mercenary, I +think. But not one that I could bring myself to accept." + +"Vanity--vanity," said Victor. "Almost any human being is interesting +and attractive if one will stop thinking about oneself and concentrate +on him or her." + +She smiled. "It's evident you've never tried to fall in love." + +"The nearest I ever came to it was with you," replied he. "But that +was, of course, out of the question." + +"I don't admit that," said she, with an amusing kind of timid obstinacy. + +"Let's be honest and natural with each other," urged he. "Now, Jane, +admit that in your heart of hearts you feel you ought not to marry me." + +Her glance avoided his. + +"Come--own up!" cried he. + +"I have thought of that side of it," she conceded. + +"And if I hadn't piqued you by thinking of it, too, you'd never have +lingered on any other side of it," said he. "Well! Now that we've +cleared the ground--there's Davy. He's to be nominated by the +Republicans for Governor next week." + +"Davy? I had almost forgotten him. I'll think of Davy--and let you +know ... And you? Who is there for you?" + +"Oh--no one you know. My sister has recommended several girls from +time to time. I'll see." + +Jane gave the freest and heartiest laugh that had passed her lips in +more than a year. It was thus free and unrestrained because he had not +said what she was fearing he would say--had not suggested the woman +nearest him, the obvious woman. So eager was she to discover what he +thought of Selma, that she could hardly restrain herself from +suggesting her. Before they could say anything more, two men came to +talk with him. Jane could not but leave. + +She dined that night at Mrs. Sherlock's--Mrs. Sherlock was Davy's +oldest sister. Davy took her in, they talked--about his +career--through dinner, and he walked home with her in the moonlight. +He was full of his approaching nomination. He had been making what is +known as a good record, as mayor. That is, he had struck out boldly at +sundry petty abuses practised by a low and comparatively uninfluential +class of exploiters of the people. He had been so busy with these +showy trifles that there had been no time for the large abuses. True, +he had publicly warned the gas company about its poor gas, and the +water company about its unwholesome water for the low-lying tenement +districts, and the traction company about the fewness and filthiness of +its cars. The gas company had talked of putting in improved machinery; +the water company had invited estimates on a filtration plant; the +traction company had said a vague something about new cars as soon as +car manufacturers could make definite promises as to delivery. But +nothing had been done--as yet. Obviously a corporation, a large +investment of capital, must be treated with consideration. It would +not do for a conservative, fair minded mayor to rush into demagogery. +So, Davy was content to point proudly to his record of having "made the +big corporations awaken to a sense of their duty." An excellent +record, as good as a reform politician, with a larger career in +prospect, could be expected to make. People spoke well of Mayor Hull +and the three daily papers eulogized him. Davy no longer had qualms of +conscience. He read the eulogies, he listened to the flatteries of the +conservative leading citizens he met at the Lincoln and at the +University, and he felt that he was all that he in young enthusiasm had +set out to be. + +When he went to other cities and towns and to county fairs to make +addresses he was introduced as the man who had redeemed Remsen City, as +a shining example of the honest SANE man in politics, as a man the +bosses were afraid of, yet dared not try to down. "You can't fool the +people." And were not the people, notably those who didn't live in +Remsen City and had only read in their newspapers about the reform +Republican mayor--weren't they clamorous for Mayor Hull for governor! +Thus, Davy was high in his own esteem, was in that mood of profound +responsibility to righteousness and to the people wherein a man can get +the enthusiastic endorsement of his conscience for any act he deems it +expedient to commit in safeguarding and advancing his career. His +person had become valuable to his country. His opponents were +therefore anathema maranatha. + +As he and Jane walked side by side in the tender moonlight, Jane said: + +"What's become of Selma Gordon?" + +A painful pause; then Davy, in a tone that secretly amused Jane: +"Selma? I see her occasionally--at a distance. She still writes for +Victor Dorn's sheet, I believe. I never see it." + +Jane felt she could easily guess why. "Yes--it is irritating to read +criticisms of oneself," said she sweetly. Davy's self-complacence had +been most trying to her nerves. + +Another long silence, then he said: "About--Miss Gordon. I suppose +you were thinking of the things I confided to you last year?" + +"Yes, I was," confessed Jane. + +"That's all over," said Mayor and prospective Governor Hull. "I found I +was mistaken in her." + +"Didn't you tell me that she refused you?" pressed Jane, most unkindly. + +"We met again after that," said Davy--by way of proving that even the +most devoted apostle of civic righteousness is yet not without his +share of the common humanity, "and from that time I felt differently +toward her.... I've never been able to understand my folly.... I +wonder if you could forgive me for it?" + +Davy was a good deal of a bore, she felt. At least, he seemed so in +this first renewing of old acquaintance. But he was a man of purpose, +a man who was doing much and would do more. And she liked him, and had +for him that feeling of sympathy and comprehension which exists among +people of the same region, brought up in much the same way. Instead of +cutting him off, she temporized. Said she with a serenely careless +laugh that might have let a man more expert in the ways of women into +the secret of how little she cared about him: "You mean forgive you +for dropping me so abruptly and running after her?" + +"That's not exactly the way to put it," objected he. + +"Put it any way you like," said Jane. "I forgive you. I didn't care +at the time, and I don't care now." + +Jane was looking entrancing in that delicate light. Davy was +noting--was feeling--this. Also, he was reflecting--in a high-minded +way--upon the many material, mental and spiritual advantages of a +marriage with her. Just the woman to be a governor's wife--a senator's +wife--a president's wife. Said he: + +"Jane, my feeling for you has never changed." + +"Really?" said Jane. "Why, I thought you told me at one time that you +were in love with me?" + +"And I always have been, dear--and am," said Davy, in his deepest, +tenderest tones. "And now that I am winning a position worthy of +you----" + +"I'll see," cut in Jane. "Let's not talk about it tonight." She felt +that if he kept on she might yield to the temptation to say something +mocking, something she would regret if it drove him away finally. + +He was content. The ice had been broken. The Selma Gordon business +had been disposed of. The way was clear for straight-away love-making +the next time they met. Meanwhile he would think about her, would get +steam up, would have his heart blazing and his words and phrases all in +readiness. + + +Every human being has his or her fundamental vanity that must be kept +alive, if life is to be or to seem to be worth living. In man this +vanity is usually some form of belief in his mental ability, in woman +some form of belief in her physical charm. Fortunately--or, rather, +necessarily--not much is required to keep this vanity alive--or to +restore it after a shock, however severe. Victor Dorn had been +compelled to give Jane Hastings' vanity no slight shock. But it +recovered at once. Jane saw that his failure to yield was due not to +lack of potency in her charms, but to extraordinary strength of purpose +in his character. Thus, not only was she able to save herself from any +sense of humiliation, but also she was without any feeling of +resentment against him. She liked him and admired him more than ever. +She saw his point of view; she admitted that he was right--IF it were +granted that a life such as he had mapped for himself was better for +him than the career he could have made with her help. + +Her heart, however, was hastily, even rudely thrust to the background +when she discovered that her brother had been gambling in wheat with +practically her entire fortune. With an adroitness that irritated her +against herself, as she looked back, he had continued to induce her to +disregard their father's cautionings and to ask him to take full charge +of her affairs. He had not lost her fortune, but he had almost lost +it. But for an accidental stroke, a week of weather destructive to +crops all over the country, she would have been reduced to an income of +not more than ten or fifteen thousand a year--twenty times the income +of the average American family of five, but for Miss Hastings +straitened subsistence and a miserable state of shornness of all the +radiance of life. And, pushing her inquiries a little farther, she +learned that her brother would still have been rich, because he had +taken care to settle a large sum on his wife--in such a way that if she +divorced him it would pass back to him. + +In the course of her arrangings to meet this situation and to prevent +its recurrence she saw much of Doctor Charlton. He gave her excellent +advice and found for her a man to take charge of her affairs so far as +it was wise for her to trust any one. The man was a bank cashier, +Robert Headley by name--one of those rare beings who care nothing for +riches for themselves and cannot invest their own money wisely, but +have a genius for fidelity and wise counsel. + +"It's a pity he's married," said Charlton. "If he weren't I'd urge you +to take him as a husband." + +Jane laughed. A plainer, duller man than Headley it would have been +hard to find, even among the respectabilities of Remsen City. + +"Why do you laugh?" said Charlton. "What is there absurd in a sensible +marriage?" + +"Would you marry a woman because she was a good housekeeper?" + +"That would be one of the requirements," said Charlton. "I've sense +enough to know that, no matter how much I liked a woman before +marriage, it couldn't last long if she were incompetent. She'd irritate +me every moment in the day. I'd lie awake of nights despising her. +And how she would hate me!" + +"I can't imagine you a husband," laughed Jane. + +"That doesn't speak well for your imagination," rejoined Charlton. "I +have perfect health--which means that I have a perfect disposition, for +only people with deranged interiors are sour and snappy and moody. And +I am sympathetic and understanding. I appreciate that women are +rottenly brought up and have everything to learn--everything that's +worth while if one is to live comfortably and growingly. So, I +shouldn't expect much at the outset beyond a desire to improve and a +capacity to improve. Yes, I've about all the virtues for a model +husband--a companionable, helpful mate for a woman who wants to be more +of a person every day she lives." + +"No, thanks," said Jane, mockingly. "The advertisement reads well, but +I don't care to invest." + +"Oh, I looked you over long ago," said Charlton with a coolness that +both amused and exasperated her. "You wouldn't do at all. You are very +attractive to look at and to talk with. Your money would be useful to +some plans I've got for some big sanatoriums along the line of +Schulze's up at Saint Christopher. But---" He shook his head, smiling +at her through a cloud of cigarette smoke. + +"Go on," urged Jane. "What's wrong with me?" + +"You've been miseducated too far and too deeply. You KNOW too much +that isn't so. You've got the upper class American woman habit of +thinking about yourself all the time. You are an indifferent +housekeeper, and you think you are good at it. You don't know the +practical side of life--cooking, sewing, house furnishing, marketing. +You're ambitious for a show career--the sort Davy Hull--excuse me, +Governor David Hull--is making so noisily. There's just the man for +you. You ought to marry. Marry Hull." + +Jane was furiously angry. She did not dare show it; Charlton would +merely laugh and walk away, and perhaps refuse to be friends with her. +It exasperated her to the core, the narrow limitations of the power of +money. She could, through the power of her money, do exactly as she +pleased to and with everybody except the only kind of people she cared +about dominating; these she was apparently the less potent with +because of her money. It seemed to put them on their mettle and on +their guard. + +She swallowed her anger. "Yes, I've got to get married," said she. +"And I don't know what to do about it." + +"Hull," said Charlton. + +"Is that the best advice you can give?" said she disdainfully. + +"He needs you, and you need him. You like him--don't you?" + +"Very much." + +"Then--the thing's done. Davy isn't the man to fail to seize an +opportunity so obviously to his advantage. Not that he hasn't a heart. +He has a big one--does all sorts of gracious, patronizing, kind +things--does no end of harm. But he'd no more let his emotions rule +his life than--than--Victor Dorn--or I, for that matter." + +Jane colored; a pathetic sadness tinged the far-away expression of her +eyes. + +"No doubt he's half in love with you already. Most men are who know +you. A kindly smile and he'll be kneeling." + +"I don't want David Hull," cried Jane. "Ever since I can remember +they've been at me to marry him. He bores me. He doesn't make me +respect him. He never could control me--or teach me--or make me look +up to him in any way. I don't want him, and I won't have him." + +"I'm afraid you've got to do it," said Charlton. "You act as if you +realized it and were struggling and screaming against manifest destiny +like a child against a determined mother." + +Jane's eyes had a look of terror. "You are joking," said she. "But it +frightens me, just the same." + +"I am not joking," replied he. "I can hear the wedding bells--and so +can you." + +"Don't!" pleaded Jane. "I've so much confidence in your insight that I +can't bear to hear you saying such things even to tease me.... Why +haven't you told me about these sanatoriums you want?" + +"Because I've been hoping I could devise some way of getting them +without the use of money. Did it ever occur to you that almost nothing +that's been of real and permanent value to the world was built with +money? The things that money has done have always been badly done." + +"Let me help you," said Jane earnestly. "Give me something to do. +Teach me how to do something. I am SO bored!--and so eager to have an +occupation. I simply can't lead the life of my class. + +"You want to be a lady patroness--a lady philanthropist," said +Charlton, not greatly impressed by her despair. "That's only another +form of the life of your class--and a most offensive form." + +"Your own terms--your own terms, absolutely," cried Jane in desperation. + +"No--marry Hull and go into upper and middle class politics. You'll be +a lady senator or a lady ambassador or cabinet officer, at least." + +"I will not marry David Hull--or anybody, just yet," cried Jane. "Why +should I? I've still got ten years where there's a chance of my being +able to attract some man who--attracts me. And after that I can buy as +good a husband as any that offers now. Doctor Charlton, I'm in +desperate, deadly earnest. And I ask you to help me." + +"My own terms?" + +"I give you my word." + +"You'll have to give your money outright. No strings attached. No +chance to be a philanthropist. Also, you'll have to work--have to +educate yourself as I instruct you." + +"Yes--yes. Whatever you say." + +Charlton looked at her dubiously. "I'm a fool to have anything to do +with this," he said. "You aren't in any way a suitable person--any +more than I'm the sort of man you want to assist you in your schemes. +You don't realize what tests you're to be put through." + +"I don't care," said Jane. + +"It's a chance to try my theory," mused he. "You know, I insist we are +all absolutely the creatures of circumstance--that character adapts +itself to circumstance--that to change a man or a town or a nation--or +a world--you have only to change their fundamental circumstances." + +"You'll try me?" + +"I'll think about it," said Charlton. "I'll talk with Victor Dorn +about it." + +"Whatever you do, don't talk to him," cried Jane, in terror. "He has no +faith in me--" She checked herself, hastily added--"in anybody outside +his own class." + +"I never do anything serious without consulting Victor," said Charlton +firmly. "He's got the best mind of any one I know, and it is foolish +to act without taking counsel of the best." + +"He'll advise against it," said Jane bitterly. + +"But I may not take his advice literally," said Charlton. "I'm not in +mental slavery to him. I often adapt his advice to my needs instead of +adopting it outright." + +And with that she had to be content. + +She passed a day and night of restlessness, and called him on the +telephone early the following morning. As she heard his voice she said: + +"Did you see Victor Dorn last night?" + +"Where are you?" asked Charlton. + +"In my room," was her impatient answer. + +"In bed?" + +"I haven't gotten up yet," said she. "What IS the matter?" + +"Had your breakfast?" + +"No. I've rung for it. It'll be here in a few minutes." + +"I thought so," said Charlton. + +"This is very mysterious--or very absurd," said Jane. + +"Please ring off and call your kitchen and tell them to put your +breakfast on the dining-room table for you in three-quarters of an +hour. Then get up, take your bath and your exercises--dress yourself +for the day--and go down and eat your breakfast. How can you hope to +amount to anything unless you live by a rational system? And how can +you have a rational system unless you begin the day right?" + +"DID you see Victor Dorn?" said Jane--furious at his impertinence but +restraining herself. + +"And after you have breakfasted," continued Charlton, "call me up +again, and I'll answer your questions." + +With that he hung up his receiver. Jane threw herself angrily back +against her pillow. She would lie there for an hour, then call him +again. But--if he should ask her whether she had obeyed his orders? +True, she might lie to him; but wouldn't that be too petty? She +debated with herself for a few minutes, then obeyed him to the letter. +As she was coming through the front hall after breakfast, he appeared +in the doorway. + +"You didn't trust me!" she cried reproachfully. + +"Oh, yes," replied he. "But I preferred to talk with you face to face." + +"DID you see Mr. Dorn?" + +Charlton nodded. "He refused to advise me. He said he had a personal +prejudice in your favor that would make his advice worthless." + +Jane glowed--but not quite so thrillingly as she would have glowed in +the same circumstances a year before. + +"Besides, he's in no state of mind to advise anybody about anything +just now," said Charlton. + +Jane glanced sharply at him. "What do you mean?" she said. + +"It's not my secret," replied Charlton. + +"You mean he has fallen in love?" + +"That's shrewd," said Charlton. "But women always assume a love +affair." + +"With whom?" persisted Jane. + +"Oh, a very nice girl. No matter. I'm not here to talk about +anybody's affairs but yours--and mine." + +"Answer just one question," said Jane, impulsively. "Did he tell you +anything about--me?" + +Charlton stared--then whistled. "Are YOU in love with him, too?" he +cried. + +Jane flushed--hesitated--then met his glance frankly. "I WAS," said +she. + +"WAS?" + +"I mean that I'm over it," said she. "What have you decided to do +about me?" + +Charlton did not answer immediately. He eyed her narrowly--an +examination which she withstood well. Then he glanced away and seemed +to be reflecting. Finally he came back to her question. Said he: + +"To give you a trial. To find out whether you'll do." + +She drew a long sigh of relief. + +"Didn't you guess?" he went on, smilingly, nodding his round, +prize-fighter head at her. "Those suggestions about bed and +breakfast--they were by way of a beginning." + +"You must give me a lot to do," urged she. "I mustn't have a minute of +idle time." + +He laughed. "Trust me," he said. + + +While Jane was rescuing her property from her brother and was +safeguarding it against future attempts by him, or by any of that +numerous company whose eyes are ever roving in search of the most +inviting of prey, the lone women with baggage--while Jane was thus +occupied, David Hull was, if possible, even busier and more absorbed. +He was being elected governor. His State was being got ready to say to +the mayor of Remsen City, "Well done, good and faithful servant. Thou +hast been faithful over a few things; I will make thee ruler over many." + +The nomination was not obtained for him without difficulty. The +Republican party--like the Democratic--had just been brought back under +"safe and sane and conservative" leadership after a prolonged debauch +under the influence of that once famous and revered reformer, Aaron +Whitman, who had not sobered up or released the party for its sobering +until his wife's extravagant entertaining at Washington had forced him +to accept large "retainers" from the plutocracy. The machine leaders +had in the beginning forwarded the ambitions of Whitman under the +impression that his talk of a "square deal" was "just the usual dope" +and that Aaron was a "level-headed fellow at bottom." It had +developed--after they had let Aaron become a popular idol, not to be +trifled with--it had developed that he was almost sincere--as sincere +as can be expected of an ambitious, pushing fellow. Now came David +Hull, looking suspiciously like Whitman at his worst-and a more +hopeless case, because he had money a plenty, while Whitman was luckily +poor and blessed with an extravagant wife. True, Hull had the backing +of Dick Kelly--and Kelly was not the man "to hand the boys a lemon." +Still Hull looked like a "holy boy," talked like one, had the popular +reputation of having acted like one as mayor--and the "reform game" was +certainly one to attract a man who could afford it and was in politics +for position only. Perhaps Dick wanted to be rid of Hull for the rest +of his term, and was "kicking him upstairs." It would be a shabby +trick upon his fellow leaders, but justifiable if there should be some +big "job" at Remsen City that could be "pulled off" only if Hull were +out of the way. + +The leaders were cold until Dick got his masters in the Remsen City +branch of the plutocracy to pass the word to the plutocracy's general +agents at Indianapolis--a certain well-known firm of political bankers. +Until that certification came the leaders, having no candidate who +stood a chance of winning, were ready to make a losing campaign and +throw the election to the Democrats--not a serious misfortune at a time +when the machines of the two parties had become simply friendly rival +agents for the same rich master. + +There was a sharp fight in the convention. The anti-machine element, +repudiating Whitman under the leadership of a shrewd and honest young +man named Joe Bannister, had attacked Hull in the most shocking way. +Bannister had been reading Victor Dorn's New Day and had got a notion +of David Hull as man and mayor different from the one made current by +the newspapers. He made a speech on the floor of the convention which +almost caused a riot and nearly cost Davy the nomination. That +catastrophe was averted by adjournment. Davy gave Dick Kelly's second +lieutenant, Osterman, ten thousand in cash, of which Osterman said +there was pressing need "for perfectly legitimate purposes, I assure +you, Mr. Mayor." Next day the Bannister faction lost forty and odd +sturdy yeomen from districts where the crops had been painfully short, +and Davy was nominated. + +In due time the election was held, and Mayor Hull became Governor Hull +by a satisfactory majority for so evenly divided a State. He had +spent--in contributions to the machine campaign fund--upwards of one +hundred thousand dollars. But that seemed a trifling sacrifice to make +for reform principles and for keeping the voice of the people the voice +of God. He would have been elected if he had not spent a cent, for the +Democratic machine, bent on reorganizing back to a sound basis with all +real reformers or reformers tainted with sincerity eliminated, had +nominated a straight machine man--and even the politicians know that +the people who decide elections will not elect a machine man if they +have a chance to vote for any one else. It saddened David Hull, in the +midst of victory, that his own town and county went against him, +preferring the Democrat, whom it did not know, as he lived at the other +end of the State. Locally the offices at stake were all captured by +the "Dorn crowd." At last the Workingmen's League had a judge; at last +it could have a day in court. There would not be a repetition of the +great frauds of the Hull-Harbinger campaign. + +By the time David had sufficient leisure to reopen the heart department +of his ambition, Jane was deep in the effort to show Doctor Charlton +how much intelligence and character she had. She was serving an +apprenticeship as trained nurse in the Children's Hospital, where he +was chief of the staff, and was taking several extra courses with his +young assistants. It was nearly two weeks after David's first attempt +to see her when her engagements and his at last permitted this meeting. +Said he: + +"What's this new freak?" + +"I can't tell you yet," replied she. "I'm not sure, myself." + +"I don't see how you can endure that fellow Charlton. They say he's as +big a crank in medicine as he is in politics." + +"It's all of a piece," said Jane, tranquilly. "He says he gets his +political views from his medicine and his medical ideas from his +politics." + +"Don't you think he's a frightful bounder?" + +"Frightful," said Jane. + +"Fresh, impudent--conceited. And he looks like a prize fighter." + +"At some angles--yes," conceded Jane. "At others, he's almost +handsome." + +"The other day, when I called at the hospital and they wouldn't take my +name in to you--" David broke off to vent his indignation--"Did you +ever hear of such impertinence!" + +"And you the governor-elect," laughed Jane. "Shall I tell you what +Doctor Charlton said? He said that a governor was simply a public +servant, and anything but a public representative--usually a public +disgrace. He said that a servant's business was attending to his own +job and not hanging round preventing his fellow servants from attending +to their jobs." + +"I knew he had low and vulgar views of public affairs," said David. +"What I started to say was that I saw him talking to you that day, +across the court, and you seemed to be enjoying his conversation." + + +"ENJOYING it? I love it," cried Jane. "He makes me laugh, he makes me +cold with rage, he gives me a different sensation every time I see him." + +"You LIKE--him?" + +"Immensely. And I've never been so interested or so happy in my life." +She looked steadily at him. "Nothing could induce me to give it up. +I've put everything else out of my mind." + +Since the dismal end of his adventure with Selma Gordon, David had +become extremely wary in his dealings with the female sex. He never +again would invite a refusal; he never again would put himself in a +position where a woman might feel free to tell him her private opinion +of him. He reflected upon Jane's words. They could have but the one +meaning. Not so calmly as he would have liked, but without any +embarrassing constraint, he said: + +"I'm glad you've found what suits you, at last. It isn't exactly the +line I'd have thought a girl such as you would choose. You're sure you +are not making a mistake?" + +"Quite," said Jane. + +"I should think you'd prefer marriage--and a home--and a social +circle--and all that," ventured David. + +"I'll probably not marry." + +"No. You'd hardly take a doctor." + +"The only one I'd want I can't get," said Jane. + +She wished to shock David, and she saw with pleasure that she had +succeeded. Indeed so shocked was he that in a few minutes he took +leave. And as he passed from her sight he passed from her mind. + + +Victor Dorn described Davy Hull's inaugural address as "an +uninteresting sample of the standard reform brand of artificial milk +for political infants." The press, however, was enthusiastic, and +substantial people everywhere spoke of it as having the "right ring," +as being the utterance of a "safe, clean man whom the politicians can't +frighten or fool." In this famous speech David urged everybody who was +doing right to keep on doing so, warned everybody who was doing wrong +that they would better look out for themselves, praised those who were +trying to better conditions in the right way, condemned those who were +trying to do so in the wrong way. It was all most eloquent, most +earnest. Some few people were disappointed that he had not explained +exactly what and whom he meant by right and by wrong; but these carping +murmurs were drowned in the general acclaim. A man whose fists +clenched and whose eyes flashed as did David Hull's must "mean +business"--and if no results came of these words, it wouldn't be his +fault, but the machinations of wicked plutocrats and their political +agents. + +"Isn't it disgusting!" exclaimed Selma, reading an impassioned +paragraph aloud to Victor Dorn. "It almost makes me despair when I see +how people--our sort of people, too--are taken in by such guff. And +they stand with their empty picked pockets and cheer this man, who's +nothing but a stool pigeon for pickpockets." + +"It's something gained," observed Victor tranquilly, "when politicians +have to denounce the plutocracy in order to get audiences and offices. +The people are beginning to know what's wrong. They read into our +friend Hull's generalities what they think he ought to mean--what they +believe he does mean. The next step is--he'll have to do something or +they'll find him out." + +"He do anything?" Selma laughed derisively. "He hasn't the courage--or +the honesty." + +"Well--'patience and shuffle the cards,' as Sancho Panza says. We're +winning Remsen City. And our friends are winning a little ground here, +and a little there and a little yonder--and soon--only too soon--this +crumbling false politics will collapse and disappear. Too soon, I +fear. Before the new politics of a work-compelling world for the +working class only is ready to be installed." + +Selma had been only half attending. She now said abruptly, with a +fluttering movement that suggested wind blowing strongly across open +prairies under a bright sky: + +"I've decided to go away." + +"Yes, you must take a vacation," said Victor. "I've been telling you +that for several years. And you must go away to the sea or the +mountains where you'll not be harassed by the fate of the human race +that you so take to heart." + +"I didn't mean a vacation," said Selma. "I meant to Chicago--to work +there." + +"You've had a good offer?" said Victor. "I knew it would come. You've +got to take it. You need the wider experience--the chance to have a +paper of your own--or a work of your own of some kind. It's been +selfishness, my keeping you all this time." + +Selma had turned away. With her face hidden from him she said, "Yes, I +must go." + +"When?" said Victor. + +"As soon as you can arrange for some one else." + +"All right. I'll look round. I've no hope of finding any one to take +your place, but I can get some one who will do." + +"You can train any one," said Selma. "Just as you trained me." + +"I'll see what's to be done," was all he said. + +A week passed--two weeks. She waited; he did not bring up the subject. +But she knew he was thinking of it; for there had been a change in his +manner toward her--a constraint, a self-consciousness theretofore +utterly foreign to him in his relations with any one. Selma was +wretched, and began to show it first in her appearance, then in her +work. At last she burst out: + +"Give that article back to me," she cried. "It's rotten. I can't +write any more. Why don't you tell me so frankly? Why don't you send +me away?" + +"You're doing better work than I am," said he. "You're eager to be +off--aren't you? Will you stay a few days longer? I must get away to +the country--alone--to get a fresh grip on myself. I'll come back as +soon as I can, and you'll be free. There'll be no chance for vacations +after you're gone." + +"Very well," said she. She felt that he would think this curtness +ungracious, but more she could not say. + +He was gone four days. When he reappeared at the office he was +bronzed, but under the bronze showed fatigue--in a man of his youth and +strength sure sign of much worry and loss of sleep. He greeted her +almost awkwardly, his eyes avoiding hers, and sat down to opening his +accumulated mail. Although she was furtively observing him she started +when he abruptly said: + +"You know you are free to go--at any time." + +"I'll wait until you catch up with your work," she suggested. + +"No--never mind. I'll get along. I've kept you out of all reason.... +The sooner you go the better. I've got to get used to it, and--I hate +suspense." + +"Then I'll go in the morning," said Selma. "I've no arrangements to +make--except a little packing that'll take less than an hour. Will you +say good-by for me to any one who asks? I hate fusses, and I'll be back +here from time to time." + +He looked at her curiously, started to speak, changed his mind and +resumed reading the letter in his hand. She turned to her work, sat +pretending to write. In fact she was simply scribbling. Her eyes were +burning and she was fighting against the sobs that came surging. He +rose and began to walk up and down the room. She hastily crumpled and +flung away the sheet on which she had be scrawling; he might happen to +glance at her desk and see. She bent closer to the paper and began to +write--anything that came into her head. Presently the sound of his +step ceased. An uncontrollable impulse to fly seized her. She would +get up--would not put on her hat--would act as if she were simply going +to the street door for a moment. And she would not return--would +escape the danger of a silly breakdown. She summoned all her courage, +suddenly rose and moved swiftly toward the door. At the threshold she +had to pause; she could not control her heart from a last look at him. + +He was seated at his table, was staring at its litter of letters, +papers and manuscripts with an expression so sad that it completely +transformed him. She forgot herself. She said softly: + +"Victor!" + +He did not hear. + +"Victor," she repeated a little more loudly. + +He roused himself, glanced at her with an attempt at his usual friendly +smile of the eyes. + +"Is there something wrong that you haven't told me about?" she asked. + +"It'll pass," said he. "I'll get used to it." With an attempt at the +manner of the humorous philosopher, "Man is the most adaptable of all +the animals. That's why he has distanced all his relations. I didn't +realize how much our association meant to me until you set me to +thinking about it by telling me you were going. I had been taking you +for granted--a habit we easily fall into with those who simply work +with and for us and don't insist upon themselves." + +She was leaning against the frame of the open door into the hall, her +hands behind her back. She was gazing out of the window across the +room. + +"You," he went on, "are as I'd like to be--as I imagined I was. Your +sense of duty to the cause orders you elsewhere, and you go--like a +good soldier, with never a backward glance." + +She shook her head, but did not speak. + +"With never a backward glance," he repeated. "While I--" He shut his +lips together firmly and settled himself with fierce resolution to his +work. "I beg your pardon," he said. "This is--cowardly. As I said +before, I shall get myself in hand again, and go on." + +She did not move. The breeze of the unseasonably warm and brilliant +day fluttered her thick, loosely gathered hair about her brow. Her +strange, barbaric little face suggested that the wind was blowing +across it a throng of emotions like the clouds of a driven storm. + +A long silence. He suddenly flung out his arms in a despairing gesture +and let them fall to the table. At the crash she startled, gazed +wildly about. + +"Selma!" he cried. "I must say it. I love you." + +A profound silence fell. After a while she went softly across the room +and sat down at her desk. + +"I think I've loved you from the first months of your coming here to +work--to the old office, I mean. But we were always together--every +day--all day long--working together--I thinking and doing nothing +without your sharing in it. So, I never realized. Don't +misunderstand. I'm not trying to keep you here. It's simply that I've +got the habit of telling you everything--of holding back nothing from +you." + +"I was going," she said, "because I loved you." + +He looked at her in amazement. + +"That day you told me you had decided to get married--and asked my +advice about the girls among our friends--that was the day I began to +feel I'd have to go. It's been getting worse ever since." + +Once more silence, both looking uneasily about, their glances avoiding +each other. The door of the printing room opened, and Holman, the +printer, came in, his case in his grimy hand. Said he: + +"Where's the rest of that street car article?" + +"I beg your pardon," said Selma, starting up and taking some manuscript +from her desk and handing it to him. + +"Louis," said Victor, as Holmes was retreating, "Selma and I are going +to be married." + +Louis paused, but did not look round. "That ain't what'd be called +news," said he. "I've known it for more than three years." + +He moved on toward his room. "I'll be ready for that leading article +in half an hour. So, you'd better get busy." + +He went out, closing the door behind him. Selma and Victor looked at +each other and burst out laughing. Then--still laughing--they took +hold of hands like two children. And the next thing they knew they +were tight in each other's arms, and Selma was sobbing wildly. + + + +X + +When Jane had finished her apprenticeship, Doctor Charlton asked her to +marry him. Said Jane: + +"I never knew you to be commonplace before. I've felt this coming for +some time, but I expected it would be in the form of an offer to marry +me." + +She promptly accepted him--and she has not, and will not regret it. So +far as a single case can prove a theory, Jane's case has proved +Charlton's theory that environment determines character. His +alternations of tenderness and brusqueness, of devotion to her and +devotion to his work, his constant offering of something new and his +unremitting insistence upon something new from her each day make it +impossible for her to develop the slightest tendency toward that +sleeping sickness wherewith the germ of conventionality inflicts any +mind it seizes upon. + +David Hull, now temporarily in eclipse through over caution in radical +utterance, is gathering himself for a fresh spurt that will doubtless +place him at the front in politics again. He has never married. The +belief in Remsen City is that he is a victim of disappointed love for +Jane Hastings. But the truth is that he is unable to take his mind off +himself long enough to be come sufficiently interested in another human +being. There is no especial reason why he has thus far escaped the +many snares that have been set for him because of his wealth and +position. Who can account for the vagaries of chance? + +The Workingmen's League now controls the government of Remsen City. It +gives an honest and efficient administration, and keeps the public +service corporations as respectful of the people as the laws will +permit. But, as Victor Dorn always warned the people, little can be +done until the State government is conquered--and even then there will +be the national government to see that all the wrongs of vested rights +are respected and that the people shall have little to say, in the +management of their own affairs. As all sensible people know, any +corrupt politician, or any greedy plutocrat, or any agent of either is +a safer and better administrator of the people's affairs than the +people themselves. + +The New Day is a daily with a circulation for its weekly edition that +is national. And Victor and Selma are still its editors, though they +have two little boys to bring up. + +Jane and Selma see a great deal of each other, and are friendly, and +try hard to like each other. But they are not friends. + +Dick Kelly's oldest son, graduated from Harvard, is the leader of the +Remsen City fashionable set. Joe House's only son is a professional +gambler and sets the pace among the sports. + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Conflict, by David Graham Phillips + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CONFLICT *** + +***** This file should be named 433.txt or 433.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/4/3/433/ + +Produced by Charles Keller. HTML version by Al Haines. + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +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. 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If you + don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are + payable to "Project Gutenberg Association / Illinois + Benedictine College" within the 60 days following each + date you prepare (or were legally required to prepare) + your annual (or equivalent periodic) tax return. + +WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO? +The Project gratefully accepts contributions in money, time, +scanning machines, OCR software, public domain etexts, royalty +free copyright licenses, and every other sort of contribution +you can think of. Money should be paid to "Project Gutenberg +Association / Illinois Benedictine College". + +*END*THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + +Scanned by Charles Keller with OmniPage Professional OCR software +donated by Caere Corporation, 1-800-535-7226. Contact Mike Lough +<Mikel@caere.com> + + + + + +THE CONFLICT + +I + + +Four years at Wellesley; two years about equally divided among +Paris, Dresden and Florence. And now Jane Hastings was at home +again. At home in the unchanged house--spacious, +old-fashioned--looking down from its steeply sloping lawns and +terraced gardens upon the sooty, smoky activities of Remsen City, +looking out upon a charming panorama of hills and valleys in the +heart of South Central Indiana. Six years of striving in the +East and abroad to satisfy the restless energy she inherited from +her father; and here she was, as restless as ever--yet with +everything done that a woman could do in the way of an active +career. She looked back upon her years of elaborate preparation; +she looked forward upon--nothing. That is, nothing but +marriage--dropping her name, dropping her personality, +disappearing in the personality of another. She had never seen a +man for whom she would make such a sacrifice; she did not believe +that such a man existed. + +She meditated bitterly upon that cruel arrangement of Nature's +whereby the father transmits his vigorous qualities in twofold +measure to the daughter, not in order that she may be a somebody, +but solely in order that she may transmit them to sons. ``I +don't believe it,'' she decided. ``There's something for ME to +do.'' But what? She gazed down at Remsen City, connected by +factories and pierced from east, west and south by railways. She +gazed out over the fields and woods. Yes, there must be +something for her besides merely marrying and breeding--just as +much for her as for a man. But what? If she should marry a man +who would let her rule him, she would despise him. If she should +marry a man she could respect--a man who was of the master class +like her father--how she would hate him for ignoring her and +putting her in her ordained inferior feminine place. She glanced +down at her skirts with an angry sense of enforced masquerade. +And then she laughed --for she had a keen sense of humor that +always came to her rescue when she was in danger of taking +herself too seriously. + +Through the foliage between her and the last of the stretches of +highroad winding up from Remsen City she spied a man climbing in +her direction--a long, slim figure in cap, Norfolk jacket and +knickerbockers. Instantly--and long before he saw her--there was +a grotesque whisking out of sight of the serious personality upon +which we have been intruding. In its stead there stood ready to +receive the young man a woman of the type that possesses physical +charm and knows how to use it--and does not scruple to use it. +For a woman to conquer man by physical charm is far and away the +easiest, the most fleeting and the emptiest of victories. But +for woman thus to conquer without herself yielding anything +whatsoever, even so little as an alluring glance of the eye--that +is quite another matter. It was this sort of conquest that Jane +Hastings delighted in--and sought to gain with any man who came +within range. If the men had known what she was about, they +would have denounced her conduct as contemptible and herself as +immoral, even brazen. But in their innocence they accused only +their sophisticated and superbly masculine selves and regarded +her as the soul of innocence. This was the more absurd in them +because she obviously excelled in the feminine art of inviting +display of charm. To glance at her was to realize at once the +beauty of her figure, the exceeding grace of her long back and +waist. A keen observer would have seen the mockery lurking in +her light-brown eyes, and about the corners of her full red lips. + +She arranged her thick dark hair to make a secret, half- revealed +charm of her fascinating pink ears and to reveal in dazzling +unexpectedness the soft, round whiteness of the nape of her neck. + +Because you are thus let into Miss Hastings' naughty secret, so +well veiled behind an air of earnest and almost cold dignity, you +must not do her the injustice of thinking her unusually artful. +Such artfulness is common enough; it secures husbands by the +thousand and by the tens of thousands. No, only in the skill of +artfulness was Miss Hastings unusual. + +As the long strides of the tall, slender man brought him rapidly +nearer, his face came into plain view. A refined, handsome face, +dark and serious. He had dark-brown eyes--and Miss Hastings did +not like brown eyes in a man. She thought that men should have +gray or blue or greenish eyes, and if they were cruel in their +love of power she liked it the better. + +``Hello, Dave,'' she cried in a pleasant, friendly voice. She +was posed--in the most unconscious of attitudes-- upon a rustic +bench so that her extraordinary figure was revealed at its most +attractive. + +The young man halted before her, his breath coming quickly--not +altogether from the exertion of his steep and rapid climb. +``Jen, I'm mad about you,'' he said, his brown eyes soft and +luminous with passion. ``I've done nothing but think about you +in the week you've been back. I didn't sleep last night, and +I've come up here as early as I dared to tell you--to ask you to +marry me.'' + +He did not see the triumph she felt, the joy in having subdued +another of these insolently superior males. Her eyes were +discreetly veiled; her delightful mouth was arranged to express +sadness. + +``I thought I was an ambition incarnate,'' continued the young +man, unwittingly adding to her delight by detailing how brilliant +her conquest was. ``I've never cared a rap about women--until I +saw you. I was all for politics--for trying to do something to +make my fellow men the better for my having lived. Now--it's all +gone. I want you, Jen. Nothing else matters.'' + +As he paused, gazing at her in speechless longing, she lifted her +eyes--simply a glance. With a stifled cry he darted forward, +dropped beside her on the bench and tried to enfold her in his +arms. The veins stood out in his forehead; the expression of his +eyes was terrifying. + +She shrank, sprang up. His baffled hands had not even touched +her. ``David Hull!'' she cried, and the indignation and the +repulsion in her tone and in her manner were not simulated, +though her artfulness hastened to make real use of them. She +loved to rouse men to frenzy. She knew that the sight of their +frenzy would chill her--would fill her with an emotion that would +enable her to remain mistress of the situation. + +At sight of her aversion his eyes sank. ``Forgive me,'' he +muttered. ``You make me--CRAZY.'' + +``I!'' she cried, laughing in angry derision. ``What have I ever +done to encourage you to be--impertinent?'' + +``Nothing,'' he admitted. ``That is, nothing but just being +yourself.'' + +``I can't help that, can I?'' + +``No,'' said he, adding doggedly: ``But neither can men help +going crazy about you.'' + +She looked at him sitting there at once penitent and impenitent; +and her mind went back to the thoughts that had engaged it before +he came into view. Marriage-- to marry one of these men, with +their coarse physical ideas of women, with their pitiful weakness +before an emotion that seemed to her to have no charm whatever. +And these were the creatures who ruled the world and compelled +women to be their playthings and mere appendages! Well--no doubt +it was the women's own fault, for were they not a poor, +spiritless lot, trembling with fright lest they should not find a +man to lean on and then, having found the man, settling down into +fat and stupid vacuity or playing the cat at the silly game of +social position? But not Jane Hastings! Her bosom heaved and +her eyes blazed scorn as she looked at this person who had dared +think the touch of his coarse hands would be welcome. Welcome! + +``And I have been thinking what a delightful friendship ours +was,'' said she, disgustedly. ``And all the time, your talk +about your ambition--the speeches you were going to make--the +offices you were going to hold-- the good you were going to do in +purifying politics-- it was all a blind!'' + +``All a blind,'' admitted he. ``From the first night that you +came to our house to dinner--Jen, I'll never forget that dress +you wore--or the way you looked in it.'' + +Miss Jane had thought extremely well of that toilet herself. She +had heard how impervious this David Hull, the best catch in the +town, was to feminine charm; and she had gone prepared to give +battle. But she said dejectedly, ``You don't know what a shock +you've given me.'' + +``Yes, I do,'' cried he. ``I'm ashamed of myself. But --I love +you, Jen! Can't you learn to love me?'' + +``I hadn't even thought of you in that way,'' said she. ``I +haven't bothered my head about marriage. Of course, most girls +have to think about it, because they must get some one to support +them----'' + +``I wish to God you were one of that sort,'' interrupted he. +``Then I could have some hope.'' + +``Hope of what,'' said she disdainfully. ``You don't mean that +you'd marry a girl who was marrying you because she had to have +food, clothing and shelter?'' + +``I'd marry the woman I loved. Then--I'd MAKE her love me. She +simply couldn't help it.'' + +Jane Hastings shuddered. ``Thank heaven, I don't have to +marry!'' Her eyes flashed. ``But I wouldn't, even if I were +poor. I'd rather go to work. Why shouldn't a woman work, +anyhow?'' + +``At what?'' inquired Hull. ``Except the men who do manual +labor, there are precious few men who can make a living honestly +and self-respectingly. It's fortunate the women can hold aloof +and remain pure.'' + +Jane laughed unpleasantly. ``I'm not so sure that the women who +live with men just for shelter are pure,'' said she. + +``Jen,'' the young man burst out, ``you're ambitious-- aren't +you?'' + +``Rather,'' replied she. + +``And you like the sort of thing I'm trying to do-- like it and +approve of it?'' + +``I believe a man ought to succeed--get to the top.'' + +``So do I--if he can do it honorably.'' + +Jane hesitated--dared. ``To be quite frank,'' said she, ``I +worship success and I despise failure. Success means strength. +Failure means weakness--and I abominate weakness.'' + +He looked quietly disapproving. ``You don't mean that. You +don't understand what you're saying.'' + +``Perfectly,'' she assured him. ``I'm not a bit good. Education +has taken all the namby-pamby nonsense out of me.'' + +But he was not really hearing; besides, what had women to do with +the realities of life? They were made to be the property of +men--that was the truth, though he would never have confessed it +to any woman. They were made to be possessed. ``And I must +possess this woman,'' he thought, his blood running hot. He +said: + +``Why not help me to make a career? I can do it, Jen, with you +to help.'' + +She had thought of this before--of making a career for herself, +of doing the ``something'' her intense energy craved, through a +man. The ``something'' must be big if it were to satisfy her; +and what that was big could a woman do except through a man? +But--this man. Her eyes turned thoughtfully upon him--a look +that encouraged him to go on: + +``Politics interest you, Jen. I've seen that in the way you +listen and in the questions you ask.'' + +She smiled--but not at the surface. In fact, his political talk +had bored her. She knew nothing about the subject, and, so, had +been as one listening to an unknown language. But, like all +women, having only the narrowest range of interests herself and +the things that would enable her to show off to advantage, she +was used to being bored by the conversational efforts of men and +to concealing her boredom. She had listened patiently and had +led the conversation by slow, imperceptible stages round to the +interesting personal-- to the struggle for dominion over this +difficult male. + +``Anyhow,'' he went on, ``no intelligent person could fail to be +interested in politics, once he or she appreciated what it meant. + +And people of our class owe it to society to take part in +politics. Victor Dorn is a crank, but he's right about some +things--and he's right in saying that we of the upper class are +parasites upon the masses. They earn all the wealth, and we take +a large part of it away from them. And it's plain stealing +unless we give some service in return. For instance, you and +I--what have we done, what are we doing that entitles us to draw +so much? Somebody must earn by hard labor all that is produced. +We are not earning. So''--he was looking handsome now in his +manly earnestness--``Jen, it's up to us to do our share--to stop +stealing--isn't it?'' + +She was genuinely interested. ``I hadn't thought of these +things,'' said she. + +``Victor Dorn says we ought to go to work like laborers,'' +pursued David. ``But that's where he's a crank. The truth is, +we ought to give the service of leadership--especially in +politics. And I'm going to do it, Jane Hastings!'' + +For the first time she had an interest in him other than that of +conquest. ``Just what are you going to do?'' she asked. + +``Not upset everything and tear everything to pieces, as Victor +Dorn wants to do,'' replied he. ``But reform the abuses and +wrongs--make it so that every one shall have a fair chance--make +politics straight and honest.'' + +This sounded hazy to her. ``And what will you get out of it?'' +asked she. + +He colored and was a little uneasy as he thus faced a direct +demand for his innermost secret--the secret of selfishness he +tried to hide even from himself. But there was no evading; if he +would interest her he must show her the practical advantages of +his proposal. ``If I'm to do any good,'' said he, putting the +best face, and really not a bad face, upon a difficult and +delicate matter--``if I'm to do any good I must win a commanding +position--must get to be a popular leader--must hold high +offices--and--and--all that.'' + +``I understand,'' said she. ``That sounds attractive. Yes, +David, you ought to make a career. If I were a man that's the +career I'd choose.'' + +``You can choose it, though you're a woman,'' rejoined he. +``Marry me, and we'll go up together. You've no idea how +exciting campaigns and elections are. A little while, and you'll +be crazy about it all. The women are taking part, more and +more.'' + +``Who's Victor Dorn?'' she suddenly asked. + +``You must remember him. It was his father that was killed by +the railway the day we all went on that excursion to +Indianapolis.'' + +``Dorn the carpenter,'' said Jane. ``Yes--I remember.'' Her +face grew dreamy with the effort of memory. ``I see it all +again. And there was a boy with a very white face who knelt and +held his head.'' + +``That was Victor,'' said Hull. + +``Yes--I remember him. He was a bad boy--always fighting and +robbing orchards and getting kept after school.'' + +``And he's still a bad boy--but in a different way. He's out +against everything civilized and everybody that's got money.'' + +``What does he do? Keep a saloon?'' + +``No, but he spends a lot of time at them. I must say for him +that he doesn't drink--and professes not to believe in drink. +When I pointed out to him what a bad example he set, loafing +round saloons, he laughed at me and said he was spending his +spare time exactly as Jesus Christ did. `You'll find, Davy, old +man,' he said, `if you'll take the trouble to read your Bible, +that Jesus traveled with publicans and sinners--and a publican is +in plain English a saloonkeeper.' '' + +``That was very original--wasn't it?'' said Jane. ``I'm +interested in this man. He's--different. I like people who are +different.'' + +``I don't think you'd like him, Victor Dorn,'' said David. + +``Don't you?'' + +``Oh, yes--in a way. I admire him,'' graciously. ``He's really +a remarkable fellow, considering his opportunities.'' + +``He calls you `Davy, old man,' '' suggested Jane. + +Hull flushed. ``That's his way. He's free and easy with every +one. He thinks conventionality is a joke.'' + +``And it is,'' cried Miss Hastings. + +``You'd not think so,'' laughed Hull, ``if he called you Jane or +Jenny or my dear Jenny half an hour after he met you.'' + +``He wouldn't,'' said Miss Hastings in a peculiar tone. + +``He would if he felt like it,'' replied Hull. ``And if you +resented it, he'd laugh at you and walk away. I suspect him of +being a good deal of a poseur and a fakir. All those +revolutionary chaps are. But I honestly think that he really +doesn't care a rap for classes --or for money--or for any of the +substantial things.'' + +``He sounds common,'' said Miss Hastings. ``I've lost interest +in him.'' Then in the same breath: ``How does he live? Is he a +carpenter?'' + +``He was--for several years. You see, he and his mother together +brought up the Dorn family after the father was killed. They +didn't get a cent of damages from the railroad. It was an +outrage----'' + +``But my father was the largest owner of the railroad.'' + +Hull colored violently. ``You don't understand about business, +Jen. The railroad is a corporation. It fought the case--and the +Dorns had no money--and the railway owned the judge and bribed +several jurors at each trial. Dorn says that was what started +him to thinking --to being a revolutionist--though he doesn't +call himself that.'' + +``I should think it would!'' cried Miss Hastings. ``If my father +had known----'' She caught her breath. ``But he MUST have +known! He was on the train that day.'' + +``You don't understand business, Jen. Your father wouldn't +interfere with the management of the corporation .'' + +``He makes money out of it--doesn't he?'' + +``So do we all get money out of corporations that are compelled +to do all sorts of queer things. But we can't abolish the +system--we've got to reform it. That's why I'm in politics--and +want you----'' + +``Something must be done about that,'' interrupted Jane. ``I +shall talk to father----'' + +``For heaven's sake, Jen,'' cried David in alarm, ``don't tell +your father I'VE been stirring you up. He's one of the powers in +politics in this State, and----'' + +``I'll not give you away, Davy,'' said Miss Hastings a little +contemptuously. ``I want to hear more about this Victor Dorn. +I'll get that money for him and his mother. Is he very poor?'' + +``Well--you'd call him poor. But he says he has plenty. He runs +a small paper. I think he makes about twenty-five dollars a week +out of it--and a little more out of lecturing. Then--every once +in a while he goes back to his trade--to keep his hand in and +enjoy the luxury of earning honest money, as he puts it.'' + +``How queer!'' exclaimed Miss Hastings. ``I would like to meet +him. Is he--very ignorant?'' + +``Oh, no--no, indeed. He's worked his way through college--and +law school afterward. Supported the family all the time.'' + +``He must be tremendously clever.'' + +``I've given you an exaggerated idea of him,'' Davy hastened to +say. ``He's really an ordinary sort of chap.'' + +``I should think he'd get rich,'' said Miss Hastings. ``Most of +the men that do--so far as I've met them-- seem ordinary +enough.'' + +``He says he could get rich, but that he wouldn't waste time that +way. But he's fond of boasting.'' + +``You don't think he could make money--after all he did--going to +college and everything?'' + +``Yes--I guess he could,'' reluctantly admitted Davy. Then in a +burst of candor: ``Perhaps I'm a little jealous of him. If _I_ +were thrown on my own resources, I'm afraid I'd make a pretty +wretched showing. But--don't get an exaggerated idea of him. +The things I've told you sound romantic and unusual. If you met +him--saw him every day--you'd realize he's not at all--at least, +not much--out of the ordinary.'' + +``Perhaps,'' said Miss Hastings shrewdly, ``perhaps I'm getting a +better idea of him than you who see him so often.'' + +``Oh, you'll run across him sometime,'' said Davy, who was +bearing up no better than would the next man under the strain of +a woman's interest in and excitement about another man. ``When +you do, you'll get enough in about five minutes. You see, he's +not a gentleman .'' + +``I'm not sure that I'm wildly crazy about gentlemen-- AS +gentlemen,'' replied the girl. ``Very few of the interesting +people I've read about in history and biography have been +gentlemen.'' + +``And very few of them would have been pleasant to associate +with,'' rejoined Hull. ``You'll admire Victor as I do. But +you'll feel--as I do--that there's small excuse for a man who has +been educated, who has associated with upper class people, +turning round and inciting the lower classes against everything +that's fine and improving.'' + +It was now apparent to the girl that David Hull was irritatedly +jealous of this queer Victor Dorn-- was jealous of her interest +in him. Her obvious cue was to fan this flame. In no other way +could she get any amusement out of Davy's society; for his +tendency was to be heavily serious--and she wanted no more of the +too strenuous love making, yet wanted to keep him ``on the +string.'' This jealousy was just the means for her end. Said +she innocently: ``If it irritates you, Davy, we won't talk about +him.'' + +``Not at all--not at all,'' cried Hull. ``I simply thought you'd +be getting tired of hearing so much about a man you'd never +known.'' + +``But I feel as if I did know him,'' replied she. ``Your account +of him was so vivid. I thought of asking you to bring him to +call.'' + +Hull laughed heartily. ``Victor Dorn--calling!'' + +``Why not?'' + +``He doesn't do that sort of thing. And if he did, how could I +bring him here?'' + +``Why not?'' + +``Well--in the first place, you are a lady--and he is not in your +class. Of course, men can associate with each other in politics +and business. But the social side of life--that's different.'' + +``But a while ago you were talking about my going in for +politics,'' said Miss Hastings demurely. + +``Still, you'd not have to meet SOCIALLY queer and rough +characters----'' + +``Is Victor Dorn very rough?'' + +The interrupting question was like the bite of a big fly to a +sweating horse. ``I'm getting sick of hearing about him from +you,'' cried Hull with the pettishness of the spoiled children of +the upper class. + +``In what way is he rough?'' persisted Miss Hastings. ``If you +didn't wish to talk about Victor Dorn, why did you bring the +subject up?'' + +``Oh--all right,'' cried Hull, restraining himself. ``Victor +isn't exactly rough. He can act like a gentleman-- when he +happens to want to. But you never can tell what he'll do next.'' + +``You MUST bring him to call!'' exclaimed Miss Hastings. + +``Impossible,'' said Hull angrily. + +``But he's the only man I've heard about since I've been home +that I've taken the least interest in.'' + +``If he did come, your father would have the servants throw him +off the place.'' + +``Oh, no,'' said Hiss Hastings haughtily. ``My father wouldn't +insult a guest of mine.'' + +``But you don't know, Jen,'' cried David. ``Why, Victor Dorn +attacks your father in the most outrageous way in his miserable +little anarchist paper--calls him a thief, a briber, a +blood-sucker--a--I'd not venture to repeat to you the things he +says.'' + +``No doubt he got a false impression of father because of that +damage suit,'' said Miss Hastings mildly. ``That was a frightful +thing. I can't be so unjust as to blame him, Davy--can you?'' + +Hull was silent. + +``And I guess father does have to do a lot of things in the +course of business---- Don't all the big men --the leaders?'' + +``Yes--unfortunately they do,'' said Hull. ``That's what gives +plausibility to the shrieks of demagogues like Victor +Dorn--though Victor is too well educated not to know better than +to stir up the ignorant classes.'' + +``I wonder why he does it,'' said Miss Hastings, reflectively. +``I must ask him. I want to hear what he says to excuse +himself.'' In fact, she had not the faintest interest in the +views of this queer unknown; her chief reason for saying she had +was to enjoy David Hull's jealousy. + +``Before you try to meet Victor,'' said Hull, in a constrained, +desperate way, ``please speak to your father about it.'' + +``I certainly shall,'' replied the girl. ``As soon as he comes +home this afternoon, I'm going to talk to him about that damage +suit. That has got to be straightened out.'' An expression of +resolution, of gentleness and justice abruptly transformed her +face. ``You may not believe it, but I have a conscience.'' +Absently, ``A curious sort of a conscience--one that might become +very troublesome, I'm afraid--in some circumstances.'' + +Instantly the fine side of David Hull's nature was to the +fore--the dominant side, for at the first appeal it always +responded. ``So have I, Jen,'' said he. ``I think our +similarity in that respect is what draws me so strongly to you. +And it's that that makes me hope I can win you. Oh, Jen--there's +so much to be done in the world--and you and I could have such a +splendid happy life doing our share of it.'' + +She was once more looking at him with an encouraging interest. +But she said, gently: ``Let's not talk about that any more +to-day, Davy.'' + +``But you'll think about it?'' urged he. + +``Yes,'' said she. ``Let's be friends--and--and see what +happens.'' + +Hull strolled up to the house with her, but refused to stop for +lunch. He pleaded an engagement; but it was one that could--and +in other circumstances would --have been broken by telephone. +His real reason for hurrying away was fear lest Jane should open +out on the subject of Victor Dorn with her father, and, in her +ignorance of the truth as to the situation, should implicate him. + +She found her father already at home and having a bowl of +crackers and milk in a shady corner of the west veranda. He was +chewing in the manner of those whose teeth are few and not too +secure. His brows were knitted and he looked as if not merely +joy but everything except disagreeable sensation had long since +fled his life beyond hope of return--an air not uncommon among +the world's successful men. However, at sight of his lovely +young daughter his face cleared somewhat and he shot at her from +under his wildly and savagely narrowed eyebrows a glance of +admiration and tenderness--a quaint expression for those cold, +hard features. + +Everyone spoke of him behind his back as ``Old Morton Hastings.'' + +In fact, he was barely past sixty, was at an age at which city +men of the modern style count themselves young and even +entertain--not without reason-- hope of being desired of women +for other than purely practical reasons. He was born on a farm-- +was born with an aversion to physical exertion as profound as was +his passion for mental exertion. We never shall know how much of +its progress the world owes to the physically lazy, mentally +tireless men. Those are they who, to save themselves physical +exertion, have devised all manner of schemes and machines to save +labor. And, at bottom, what is progress but man's success in his +effort to free himself from manual labor --to get everything for +himself by the labor of other men and animals and of machines? +Naturally his boyhood of toil on the farm did not lessen Martin +Hastings' innate horror of ``real work.'' He was not twenty when +he dropped tools never to take them up again. He was shoeing a +horse in the heat of the cool side of the barn on a frightful +August day. Suddenly he threw down the hammer and said loudly: +``A man that works is a damn fool. I'll never work again.'' And +he never did. + +As soon as he could get together the money--and it was not long +after he set about making others work for him--he bought a buggy, +a kind of phaeton, and a safe horse. Thenceforth he never walked +a step that could be driven. The result of thirty-five years of +this life, so unnatural to an animal that is designed by Nature +for walking and is punished for not doing so-- the result of a +lifetime of this folly was a body shrivelled to a lean brown +husk, legs incredibly meagre and so tottery that they scarcely +could bear him about. His head--large and finely shaped--seemed +so out of proportion that he looked at a glance senile. But no +one who had business dealings with him suspected him of senility +or any degree of weakness. He spoke in a thin dry voice, +shrouded in sardonic humor. + +``I don't care for lunch,'' said Jane, dropping to a chair near +the side of the table opposite her father. ``I had breakfast too +late. Besides, I've got to look out for my figure. There's a +tendency to fat in our family.'' + +The old man chuckled. ``Me, for instance,'' said he. + +``Martha, for instance,'' replied Jane. Martha was her one +sister--married and ten years older than she and spaciously +matronly. + +``Wasn't that Davy Hull you were talking to, down in the woods?'' +inquired her father. + +Jane laughed. ``You see everything,'' said she. + +``I didn't see much when I saw him,'' said her father. + +Jane was hugely amused. Her father watched her laughter--the +dazzling display of fine teeth--with delighted eyes. ``You've +got mighty good teeth, Jenny,'' observed he. ``Take care of 'em. + +You'll never know what misery is till you've got no teeth--or +next to none.'' He looked disgustedly into his bowl. ``Crackers +and milk!'' grunted he. ``No teeth and no digestion. The only +pleasure a man of my age can have left is eating, and I'm cheated +out of that.'' + +``So, you wouldn't approve of my marrying Davy?'' said the girl. + +Her father grunted--chuckled. ``I didn't say that. Does he want +to marry you?'' + +``I didn't say that,'' retorted Jane. ``He's an unattached young +man--and I, being merely a woman, have got to look out for a +husband.'' + +Martin looked gloomy. ``There's no hurry,'' said he. ``You've +been away six years. Seems to me you might stay at home a +while.'' + +``Oh, I'd bring him here, popsy I've no intention of leaving you. + +You were in an awful state, when I came home. That mustn't ever +happen again. And as you won't live with Martha and Hugo--why, +I've got to be the victim.'' + +``Yes--it's up to you, Miss, to take care of me in my declining +years. . . . You can marry Davy--if you want to. Davy--or +anybody. I trust to your good sense.'' + +``If I don't like him, I can get rid of him,'' said the girl. + +Her father smiled indulgently. ``That's A LEETLE too up-to-date +for an old man like me,'' observed he. ``The world's moving fast +nowadays. It's got a long ways from where it was when your ma +and I were young.'' + +``Do you think Davy Hull will make a career?'' asked Jane. She +had heard from time to time as much as she cared to hear about +the world of a generation before --of its bareness and +discomfort, its primness, its repulsive piety, its ignorance of +all that made life bright and attractive--how it quite overlooked +this life in its agitation about the extremely problematic life +to come. ``I mean a career in politics,'' she explained. + +The old man munched and smacked for full a minute before he said, +``Well, he can make a pretty good speech. Yes--I reckon he could +be taken in hand and pushed. He's got a lot of fool college-bred +ideas about reforming things. But he'd soon drop them, if he got +into the practical swing. As soon as he had a taste of success, +he'd stop being finicky. Just now, he's one of those nice, pure +chaps who stand off and tell how things ought to be done. But +he'd get over that.'' + +Jane smiled peculiarly--half to herself. ``Yes--I think he +would. In fact, I'm sure he would.'' She looked at her father. +``Do you think he amounts to as much as Victor Dorn?'' she asked, +innocently. + +The old man dropped a half raised spoonful of milk and crackers +into the bowl with a splash. ``Dorn-- he's a scoundrel!'' he +exclaimed, shaking with passion. ``I'm going to have that dirty +little paper of his stopped and him put out of town. Impudent +puppy!--foul- mouthed demagogue! I'll SHOW him!'' + +``Why, he doesn't amount to anything, father,'' remonstrated the +girl. ``He's nothing but a common working man--isn't he?'' + +``That's all he is--the hound!'' replied Martin Hastings. A +look of cruelty, of tenacious cruelty, had come into his face. +It would have startled a stranger. But his daughter had often +seen it; and it did not disturb her, as it had never appeared for +anything that in any way touched her life. ``I've let him hang +on here too long,'' went on the old man, to himself rather than +to her. ``First thing I know he'll be dangerous.'' + +``If he's worth while I should think you'd hire him,'' remarked +Jane shrewdly. + +``I wouldn't have such a scoundrel in my employ,'' cried her +father. + +``Oh, maybe,'' pursued the daughter, ``maybe you couldn't hire +him.'' + +``Of course I could,'' scoffed Hastings. ``Anybody can be +hired.'' + +``I don't believe it,'' said the girl bluntly. + +``One way or another,'' declared the old man. ``That Dorn boy +isn't worth the price he'd want.'' + +``What price would he want?'' asked Jane. + +``How should I know?'' retorted her father angrily. + +``You've tried to hire him--haven't you?'' persisted she. + +The father concentrated on his crackers and milk. Presently he +said: ``What did that fool Hull boy say about Dorn to you?'' + +``He doesn't like him,'' replied Jane. ``He seems to be jealous +of him--and opposed to his political views.'' + +``Dorn's views ain't politics. They're--theft and murder and +highfalutin nonsense,'' said Hastings, not unconscious of his +feeble anti-climax. + +``All the same, he--or rather, his mother--ought to have got +damages from the railway,'' said the girl. And there was a +sudden and startling shift in her expression --to a tenacity as +formidable as her father's own, but a quiet and secret tenacity. + +Old Hastings wiped his mouth and began fussing uncomfortably with +a cigar. + +``I don't blame him for getting bitter and turning against +society,'' continued she. ``I'd have done the same thing--and so +would you.'' + +Hastings lit the cigar. ``They wanted ten thousand dollars,'' he +said, almost apologetically. ``Why, they never saw ten thousand +cents they could call their own.'' + +``But they lost their bread-winner, father,'' pleaded the girl. +``And there were young children to bring up and educate. Oh, I +hate to think that--that we had anything to do with such a +wrong.'' + +``It wasn't a wrong, Jen--as I used to tell your ma,'' said the +old man, much agitated and shrill of voice. ``It was just the +course of business. The law was with our company.'' + +Jane said nothing. She simply gazed steadily at her father. He +avoided her glance. + +``I don't want to hear no more about it,'' he burst out with +abrupt violence. ``Not another word!'' + +``Father, I want it settled--and settled right,'' said the girl. +``I ask it as a favor. Don't do it as a matter of business, but +as a matter of sentiment.'' + +He shifted uneasily, debating. When he spoke he was even more +explosive than before. ``Not a cent! Not a red! Give that +whelp money to run his crazy paper on? Not your father, while he +keeps his mind.'' + +``But--mightn't that quiet him?'' pleaded she. ``What's the use +of having war when you can have peace? You've always laughed at +people who let their prejudices stand in the way of their +interests. You've always laughed at how silly and stupid and +costly enmities and revenges are. Now's your chance to +illustrate, popsy.'' And she smiled charmingly at him. + +He was greatly softened by her manner--and by the wisdom of what +she said--a wisdom in which, as in a mirror, he recognized with +pleasure her strong resemblance to himself. ``That wouldn't be a +bad idea, Jen,'' said he after reflection, ``IF I could get a +guarantee.'' + +``But why not do it generously?'' urged the girl. ``Generosity +inspires generosity. You'll make him ashamed of himself.'' + +With a cynical smile on his shrivelled face the old man slowly +shook his big head that made him look as top-heavy as a newborn +baby. ``That isn't as smart, child, as what you said before. +It's in them things that the difference between theory and +practice shows. He'd take the money and laugh at me. No, I'll +try to get a guarantee.'' He nodded and chuckled. ``Yes, that +was a good idea of yours, Jen.'' + +``But--isn't it just possible that he is a man with-- with +principles of a certain kind?'' suggested she. + +``Of course, he THINKS so,'' said Hastings. ``They all do. But +you don't suppose a man of any sense at all could really care +about and respect working class people?--ignorant, ungrateful +fools. _I_ know 'em. Didn't I come from among 'em? Ain't I +dealt with 'em all my life? No, that there guy Dorn's simply +trying to get up, and is using them to step up on. I did the +same thing, only I did it in a decent, law-abiding way. I didn't +want to tear down those that was up. I wanted to go up and join +'em. And I did.'' + +And his eyes glistened fondly and proudly as he gazed at his +daughter. She represented the climax of his rising--she, the +lady born and bred, in her beautiful clothes, with her lovely, +delicate charms. Yes, he had indeed ``come up,'' and there +before him was the superb tangible evidence of it. + +Jane had the strongest belief in her father's worldly wisdom. At +the same time, from what David Hull said she had got an +impression of a something different from the ordinary human being +in this queer Victor Dorn. ``You'd better move slowly,'' she +said to her father. ``There's no hurry, and you might be +mistaken in him.'' + +``Plenty of time,'' asserted her father. ``There's never any +need to hurry about giving up money.'' Then, with one of those +uncanny flashes of intuition for which he, who was never caught +napping, was famous, he said to her sharply: ``You keep your +hands off, miss.'' + +She was thrown into confusion--and her embarrassment enraged her +against herself. ``What could _I_ do?'' she retorted with a +brave attempt at indifference. + +``Well--keep your hands off, miss,'' said the old man. ``No +female meddling in business. I'll stand for most anything, but +not for that.'' + +Jane was now all eagerness for dropping the subject. She wished +no further prying of that shrewd mind into her secret thoughts. +``It's hardly likely I'd meddle where I know nothing about the +circumstances,'' said she. ``Will you drive me down to +Martha's?'' + +This request was made solely to change the subject, to shift her +father to his favorite topic for family conversation--his +daughter Martha, Mrs. Hugo Galland, her weakness for fashionable +pastimes, her incessant hints and naggings at her father about +his dowdy dress, his vulgar mannerisms of speech and of conduct, +especially at table. Jane had not the remotest intention of +letting her father drive her to Mrs. Galland's, or anywhere, in +the melancholy old phaeton-buggy, behind the fat old nag whose +coat was as shabby as the coat of the master or as the top and +the side curtains of the sorrowful vehicle it drew along at +caterpillar pace. + +When her father was ready to depart for his office in the +Hastings Block--the most imposing office building in Remsen City, +Jane announced a change of mind. + +``I'll ride, instead,'' said she. ``I need the exercise, and the +day isn't too warm.'' + +``All right,'' said Martin Hastings grumpily. He soon got enough +of anyone's company, even of his favorite daughter's. Through +years of habit he liked to jog about alone, revolving in his mind +his business affairs--counting in fancy his big bundles of +securities, one by one, calculating their returns past, present +and prospective--reviewing the various enterprises in which he +was dominant factor, working out schemes for getting more profit +here, for paying less wages there, for tightening his grip upon +this enterprise, for dumping his associates in that, for escaping +with all the valuable assets from another. His appearance, as he +and his nag dozed along the highroad, was as deceptive as that of +a hive of bees on a hot day--no signs of life except a few sleepy +workers crawling languidly in and out at the low, broad +crack-door, yet within myriads toiling like mad. + +Jane went up to dress. She had brought an Italian maid with her +from Florence, and a mass of baggage that had given the station +loungers at Remsen City something to talk about, when there was a +dearth of new subjects, for the rest of their lives. She had +transformed her own suite in the second story of the big old +house into an appearance of the quarters of a twentieth century +woman of wealth and leisure. In the sitting room were books in +four languages; on the walls were tasteful reproductions of her +favorite old masters. The excellence of her education was +attested not by the books and pictures but by the absence of +those fussy, commonplace draperies and bits of bric-a-brac +where-- with people of no taste and no imagination furnish their +houses because they can think of nothing else to fill in the +gaps. + +Many of Jane's ways made Sister Martha uneasy. For Martha, while +admitting that Jane through superior opportunity ought to know, +could not believe that the ``right sort'' of people on the other +side had thrown over all her beloved formalities and were +conducting themselves distressingly like tenement-house people. +For instance, Martha could not approve Jane's habit of smoking +cigarettes--a habit which, by one of those curious freaks of +character, enormously pleased her father. But--except in one +matter--Martha entirely approved Jane's style of dress. She +hastened to pronounce it ``just too elegant'' and repeated that +phrase until Jane, tried beyond endurance, warned her that the +word elegant was not used seriously by people of the ``right +sort'' and that its use was regarded as one of those small but +subtle signs of the loathsome ``middle class.'' + +The one thing in Jane's dress that Martha disapproved-- or, +rather, shied at--was her riding suit. This was an extremely +noisy plaid man's suit--for Jane rode astride. Martha could not +deny that Jane looked ``simply stunning'' when seated on her +horse and dressed in that garb with her long slim feet and +graceful calves encased in a pair of riding boots that looked as +if they must have cost ``something fierce.'' But was it really +``ladylike''? Hadn't Jane made a mistake and adopted a costume +worn only by the fashionables among the demi-mondaines of whom +Martha had read and had heard such dreadful, delightful stories? + +It was the lively plaid that Miss Hastings now clad herself in. +She loved that suit. Not only did it give her figure a superb +opportunity but also it brought out new beauties in her contour +and coloring. And her head was so well shaped and her hair grew +so thickly about brow and ears and nape of neck that it looked +full as well plaited and done close as when it was framing her +face and half concealing, half revealing her charming ears in +waves of changeable auburn. After a lingering--and pardonably +pleased--look at herself in a long mirror, she descended, mounted +and rode slowly down toward town. + +The old Galland homestead was at the western end of town--in a +quarter that had become almost poor. But it was so dignified and +its grounds were so extensive that it suggested a manor house +with the humble homes of the lord's dependents clustering about +it for shelter. To reach it Jane had to ride through two filthy +streets lined with factories. As she rode she glanced at the +windows, where could be seen in dusty air girls and boys busy at +furiously driven machines-- machines that compelled their human +slaves to strain every nerve in the monotonous task of keeping +them occupied. Many of the girls and boys paused long enough for +a glance at the figure of the man-clad girl on the big horse. + +Jane, happy in the pleasant sunshine, in her beauty and health +and fine raiment and secure and luxurious position in the world, +gave a thought of pity to these imprisoned young people. ``How +lucky I am,'' she thought, ``not to have been born like that. Of +course, we all have our falls now and then. But while they +always strike on the hard ground, I've got a feather bed to fall +on.'' + +When she reached Martha's and was ushered into the cool upstairs +sitting room, in somehow ghastly contrast to the hot rooms where +the young working people sweated and strained, the subject +persisted in its hold on her thoughts. There was Martha, in +comfortable, corsetless expansiveness--an ideal illustration of +the worthless idler fattening in purposelessness. She was +engaged with all her energies in preparing for the ball Hugo +Galland's sister, Mrs. Bertrand, was giving at the assembly rooms +that night. + +``I've been hard at it for several days now,'' said she. ``I +think at last I see daylight. But I want your opinion.'' + +Jane gazed absently at the dress and accompanying articles that +had been assembled with so much labor. ``All right,'' said she. +``You'll look fine and dandy.'' + +Martha twitched. ``Jane, dear--don't say that-- don't use such +an expression. I know it's your way of joking. But lots of +people would think you didn't know any better.'' + +``Let 'em think,'' said Jane. ``I say and do as I please.'' + +Martha sighed. Here was one member of her family who could be a +credit, who could make people forget the unquestionably common +origin of the Hastingses and of the Morleys. Yet this member was +always breaking out into something mortifying, something +reminiscent of the farm and of the livery stable--for the +deceased Mrs. Hastings had been daughter of a livery stable +keeper--in fact, had caught Martin Hastings by the way she rode +her father's horses at a sale at a county fair. Said Martha: + +``You haven't really looked at my clothes, Jane. Why DID you go +back to calling yourself Jane?'' + +``Because it's my name,'' replied her sister. + +``I know that. But you hated it and changed it to Jeanne, which +is so much prettier.'' + +``I don't think so any more,'' replied Miss Hastings. ``My taste +has improved. Don't be so horribly middle class, Martha--ashamed +of everything simple and natural.'' + +``You think you know it all--don't you?--just because you've +lived abroad,'' said Martha peevishly. + +``On the contrary, I don't know one-tenth as much as I thought I +did, when I came back from Wellesley with a diploma.'' + +``Do you like my costume?'' inquired Martha, eying her finery +with the fond yet dubious expression of the woman who likes her +own taste but is not sure about its being good taste. + +``What a lazy, worthless pair we are!'' exclaimed Jane, hitting +her boot leg a tremendous rap with her little cane. + +Martha startled. ``Good God--Jane--what is it?'' she cried. + +``On the way here I passed a lot of factories,'' pursued Jane. +``Why should those people have to work like--like the devil, +while we sit about planning ball dresses?'' + +Martha settled back comfortably. ``I feel so sorry for those +poor people,'' said she, absently sympathetic. + +``But why?'' demanded Jane. ``WHY? Why should we be allowed to +idle while they have to slave? What have we done--what are we +doing--to entitle us to ease? What have they done to condemn +them to pain and toil?'' + +``You know very well, Jane, that we represent the finer side of +life.'' + +``Slop!'' ejaculated Jane. + +``For pity's sake, don't let's talk politics,'' wailed Martha. +``I know nothing about politics. I haven't any brains for that +sort of thing.'' + +``Is that politics?'' inquired Jane. ``I thought politics meant +whether the Democrats or the Republicans or the reformers were to +get the offices and the chance to steal.'' + +``Everything's politics, nowadays,'' said Martha, comparing the +color of the material of her dress with the color of her fat +white arm. ``As Hugo says, that Victor Dorn is dragging +everything into politics--even our private business of how we +make and spend our own money.'' + +Jane sat down abruptly. ``Victor Dorn,'' she said in a strange +voice. ``WHO is Victor Dorn? WHAT is Victor Dorn? It seems +that I can hear of nothing but Victor Dorn to-day.'' + +``He's too low to talk about,'' said Martha, amiable and absent. + +``Why?'' + +``Politics,'' replied Martha. ``Really, he is horrid, Jane.'' + +``To look at?'' + +``No--not to look at. He's handsome in a way. Not at all common +looking. You might take him for a gentleman, if you didn't know. + +Still--he always dresses peculiarly--always wears soft hats. I +think soft hats are SO vulgar--don't you?'' + +``How hopelessly middle-class you are, Martha,'' mocked Jane. + +``Hugo would as soon think of going in the street in a--in a--I +don't know what.'' + +``Hugo is the finest flower of American gentleman. That is, he's +the quintessence of everything that's nice --and `nasty.' I wish +I were married to him for a week. I love Hugo, but he gives me +the creeps.'' She rose and tramped restlessly about the room. +``You both give me the creeps. Everything conventional gives me +the creeps. If I'm not careful I'll dress myself in a long +shirt, let down my hair and run wild.'' + +``What nonsense you do talk,'' said Martha composedly. + +Jane sat down abruptly. ``So I do!'' she said. ``I'm as poor a +creature as you at bottom. I simply like to beat against the +bars of my cage to make myself think I'm a wild, free bird by +nature. If you opened the door, I'd not fly out, but would hop +meekly back to my perch and fall to smoothing my feathers. . . . +Tell me some more about Victor Dorn.'' + +``I told you he isn't fit to talk about,'' said Martha. ``Do you +know, they say now that he is carrying on with that shameless, +brazen thing who writes for his paper, that Selma Gordon?'' + +``Selma Gordon,'' echoed Jane. Her brows came down in a gesture +reminiscent of her father, and there was a disagreeable +expression about her mouth and in her light brown eyes. ``Who's +Selma Gordon?'' + +``She makes speeches--and writes articles against rich +people--and--oh, she's horrid.'' + +``Pretty?'' + +``No--a scrawny, black thing. The men--some of them--say she's +got a kind of uncanny fascination. Some even insist that she's +beautiful.'' Martha laughed. ``Beautiful! How could a woman +with black hair and a dark skin and no flesh on her bones be +beautiful?'' + +``It has been known to happen,'' said Jane curtly. ``Is she one +of THE Gordons?'' + +``Mercy, no!'' cried Martha Galland. ``She simply took the name +of Gordon--that is, her father did. He was a Russian peasant--a +Jew. And he fell in love with a girl who was of noble family--a +princess, I think.'' + +``Princess doesn't mean much in Russia,'' said Jane sourly. + +``Anyhow, they ran away to this country. And he worked in the +rolling mill here--and they both died-- and Selma became a +factory girl--and then took to writing for the New Day--that's +Victor Dorn's paper, you know.'' + +``How romantic,'' said Jane sarcastically. ``And now Victor +Dorn's in love with her?'' + +``I didn't say that,'' replied Martha, with a scandal- +smile. + +Jane Hastings went to the window and gazed out into the garden. +Martha resumed her habitual warm day existence--sat rocking +gently and fanning herself and looking leisurely about the room. +Presently she said: + +``Jane, why don't you marry Davy Hull?'' + +No answer. + +``He's got an independent income--so there's no question of his +marrying for money. And there isn't any family anywhere that's +better than his--mighty few as good. And he's DEAD in love with +you, Jen.'' + +With her back still turned Jane snapped, ``I'd rather marry +Victor Dorn.'' + +``What OUTRAGEOUS things you do say!'' cried Martha. + +``I envy that black Jewess--that--what's her name? --that Selma +Gordon.'' + +``You don't even know them,'' said Martha. + +Jane wheeled round with a strange laugh. ``Don't I?'' cried she. + +``I don't know anyone else.'' + +She strode to her sister and tapped her lightly on the shoulder +with the riding stick. + +``Be careful,'' cautioned Martha. ``You know how easily my flesh +mars--and I'm going to wear my low neck to-night.'' + +Jane did not heed. ``David Hull is a bore--and a fraud,'' she +said. ``I tell you I'd rather marry Victor Dorn.'' + +``Do be careful about my skin, dear,'' pleaded Martha. ``Hugo'll +be SO put out if there's a mark on it. He's very proud of my +skin.'' + +Jane looked at her quizzically. ``What a dear, fat old rotter of +a respectability it is, to be sure,'' said she --and strode from +the room, and from the house. + +Her mood of perversity and defiance did not yield to a ten mile +gallop over the gentle hills of that lovely part of Indiana, but +held on through the afternoon and controlled her toilet for the +ball. She knew that every girl in town would appear at that most +fashionable party of the summer season in the best clothing she +could get together. As she had several dresses from Paris which +she not without reason regarded as notable works of art, the +opportunity to outshine was hers-- the sort of opportunity she +took pleasure in using to the uttermost, as a rule. But to be +the best dressed woman at Mrs. Bertram's party was too easy and +too commonplace. To be the worst dressed would call for courage +--of just the sort she prided herself on having. Also, it would +look original, would cause talk--would give her the coveted sense +of achievement. + +When she descended to show herself to her father and say good +night to him, she was certainly dressed by the same pattern that +caused him to be talked about throughout that region. Her gown +was mussed, had been mended obviously in several places, had not +been in its best day becoming. But this was not all. Her hair +looked stringy and dishevelled. She was delighted with herself. +Except during an illness two years before never had she come so +near to being downright homely. ``Martha will die of shame,'' +said she to herself. ``And Mrs. Bertram will spend the evening +explaining me to everybody.'' She did not definitely formulate +the thought, ``And I shall be the most talked about person of the +evening''; but it was in her mind none the less. + +Her father always smoked his after-dinner cigar in a little room +just off the library. It was filled up with the plain cheap +furniture and the chromos and mottoes which he and his wife had +bought when they first went to housekeeping--in their early days +of poverty and struggle. On the south wall was a crude and +cheap, but startlingly large enlargement of an old daguerreotype +of Letitia Hastings at twenty-four--the year after her marriage +and the year before the birth of the oldest child, Robert, called +Dock, now piling up a fortune as an insider in the Chicago +``brave'' game of wheat and pork, which it is absurd to call +gambling because gambling involves chance. To smoke the one +cigar the doctor allowed him, old Martin Hastings always seated +himself before this picture. He found it and his thoughts the +best company in the world, just as he had found her silent self +and her thoughts the best company in their twenty-one years of +married life. As he sat there, sometimes he thought of her--of +what they had been through together, of the various advances in +his fortune--how this one had been made near such and such +anniversary, and that one between two other anniversaries--and +what he had said to her and what she had said to him. +Again--perhaps oftener--he did not think of her directly, any +more than he had thought of her when they sat together evening +after evening, year in and year out, through those twenty-one +years of contented and prosperous life. + +As Jane entered he, seated back to the door, said: + +``About that there Dorn damage suit----'' + +Jane started, caught her breath. Really, it was uncanny, this +continual thrusting of Victor Dorn at her. + +``It wasn't so bad as it looked,'' continued her father. He was +speaking in the quiet voice--quiet and old and sad--he always +used when seated before the picture. + +``You see, Jenny, in them days''--also, in presence of the +picture he lapsed completely into the dialect of his youth--``in +them days the railroad was teetering and I couldn't tell which +way things'd jump. Every cent counted.'' + +``I understand perfectly, father,'' said Jane, her hands on his +shoulders from behind. She felt immensely relieved. She did not +realize that every doer of a mean act always has an excellent +excuse for it. + +``Then afterwards,'' the old man went on, ``the family was +getting along so well--the boy was working steady and making good +money and pushing ahead--and I was afeared I'd do harm instead of +good. It's mighty dangerous, Jen, to give money sudden to folks +that ain't used to it. I've seen many a smash-up come that way. +And your ma--she thought so, too--kind of.'' + +The ``kind of'' was advanced hesitatingly, with an apologetic +side glance at the big crayon portrait. But Jane was entirely +convinced. She was average human; therefore, she believed what +she wished to believe. + +``You were quite right, father,'' said she. ``I knew you +couldn't do a bad thing--wouldn't deliberately strike at weak, +helpless people. And now, it can be straightened out and the +Dorns will be all the better for not having been tempted in the +days when it might have ruined them.'' + +She had walked round where her father could see her, as she +delivered herself of this speech so redolent of the fumes of +collegiate smugness. He proceeded to examine her--with an +expression of growing dissatisfaction. Said he fretfully: + +``You don't calculate to go out, looking like that?'' + +``Out to the swellest blow-out of the year, popsy,'' said she. + +The big heavy looking head wobbled about uneasily. ``You look +too much like your old pappy's daughter,'' said he. + +``I can afford to,'' replied she. + +The head shook positively. ``You ma wouldn't 'a liked it. She +was mighty partic'lar how she dressed.'' + +Jane laughed gayly. ``Why, when did you become a critic of +women's dress?'' cried she. + +``I always used to buy yer ma dresses and hats when I went to the +city,'' said he. ``And she looked as good as the best--not for +these days, but for them times.'' He looked critically at the +portrait. ``I bought them clothes and awful dear they seemed to +me.'' His glance returned to his daughter. ``Go get yourself up +proper,'' said he, between request and command. ``SHE wouldn't +'a liked it.'' + +Jane gazed at the common old crayon, suddenly flung her arms +round the old man's neck. ``Yes-- father,'' she murmured. ``To +please HER.'' + +She fled; the old man wiped his eyes, blew his nose and resumed +the careful smoking of the cheap, smelly cigar. He said he +preferred that brand of his days of poverty; and it was probably +true, as he would refuse better cigars offered him by fastidious +men who hoped to save themselves from the horrors of his. He +waited restlessly, though it was long past his bedtime; he yawned +and pretended to listen while Davy Hull, who had called for Jane +in the Hull brougham, tried to make a favorable impression upon +him. At last Jane reappeared-- and certainly Letitia Hastings +would have been more than satisfied. + +``Sorry to keep you waiting,'' said she to Hull, who was +speechless and tremulous before her voluptuous radiance. ``But +father didn't like the way I was rigged out. Maybe I'll have to +change again.'' + +``Take her along, Davy,'' said Hastings, his big head wagging +with delight. ``She's a caution--SHE is!'' + +Hull could not control himself to speak. As they sat in the +carriage, she finishing the pulling on of her gloves, he stared +out into the heavy rain that was deluging the earth and bending +low the boughs. Said she, half way down the hill: + +``Well--can't you talk about anything but Victor Dorn?'' + +``I saw him this afternoon,'' said Hull, glad that the tension of +the silence was broken. + +``Then you've got something to talk about.'' + +``The big street car strike is on.'' + +``So father said at dinner. I suppose Victor Dorn caused it.'' + +``No--he's opposed to it. He's queer. I don't exactly +understand his ideas. He says strikes are ridiculous-- that it's +like trying to cure smallpox by healing up one single sore.'' + +Jane gave a shiver of lady-like disgust. ``How-- nasty,'' said +she. + +``I'm telling you what he said. But he says that the only way +human beings learn how to do things right is by doing them +wrong--so while he's opposed to strikes he's also in favor of +them.'' + +``Even _I_ understand that,'' said Jane. ``I don't think it's +difficult.'' + +``Doesn't it strike you as--as inconsistent?'' + +``Oh--bother consistency!'' scoffed the girl. ``That's another +middle class virtue that sensible people loathe as a vice.'' + +Anyhow, he's helping the strikers all he can--and fighting US. +You know, your father and my father's estate are the two biggest +owners of the street railways.'' + +``I must get his paper,'' said Jane. ``I'll have a lot of fun +reading the truth about us.'' + +But David wasn't listening. He was deep in thought. After a +while he said: ``It's amazing--and splendid-- and terrible, what +power he's getting in our town. Victor Dorn, I mean.'' + +``Always Victor Dorn,'' mocked Jane. + +``When he started--twelve years ago as a boy of twenty, just out +of college and working as a carpenter --when he started, he was +alone and poor, and without friends or anything. He built up +little by little, winning one man at a time--the fellow working +next him on his right, then the chap working on his left--in the +shop--and so on, one man after another. And whenever he got a +man he held him--made him as devoted-- as--as fanatical as he is +himself. Now he's got a band of nearly a thousand. There are +ten thousand voters in this town. So, he's got only one in ten. +But what a thousand!'' + +Jane was gazing out into the rain, her eyes bright, her lips +parted. + +``Are you listening?'' asked Hull. ``Or, am I boring you?'' + +``Go on,'' said she. + +``They're a thousand missionaries--apostles--yes, apostle is the +name for them. They live and breathe and think and talk only the +ideas Victor Dorn believes and fights for. And whenever he wants +anything done --anything for the cause--why, there are a thousand +men ready to do it.'' + +``Why?'' said Jane. + +``Victor Dorn,'' said Hull. ``Do you wonder that he interests +me? For instance, to-night: you see how it's raining. Well, +Victor Dorn had them print to-day fifty thousand leaflets about +this strike--what it means to his cause. And he has asked five +hundred of his men to stand on the corners and patrol the streets +and distribute those dodgers. I'll bet not a man will be +missing.'' + +``But why?'' repeated Jane. ``What for?'' + +``He wants to conquer this town. He says the world has to be +conquered--and that the way to begin is to begin--and that he has +begun.'' + +``Conquer it for what?'' + +``For himself, I guess,'' said Hull. ``Of course, he professes +that it's for the public good. They all do. But what's the +truth?'' + +``If I saw him I could tell you,'' said Jane in the full pride of +her belief in her woman's power of divination in character. + +``However, he can't succeed,'' observed Hull. + +``Oh, yes, he can,'' replied Jane. ``And will. Even if every +idea he had were foolish and wrong. And it isn't--is it?'' + +David laughed peculiarly. ``He's infernally uncomfortably right +in most of the things he charges and proposes. I don't like to +think about it.'' He shut his teeth together. ``I WON'T think +about it,'' he muttered. + +``No--you'd better stick to your own road, Davy,'' said Jane with +irritating mockery. ``You were born to be thoroughly +conventional and respectable. As a reformer you're ideal. As +a--an imitator of Victor Dorn, you'd be a joke.'' + +``There's one of his men now,'' exclaimed Hull, leaning forward +excitedly. + +Jane looked. A working man, a commonplace enough object, was +standing under the corner street lamp, the water running off his +hat, his shoulders, his coat tail. His package of dodgers was +carefully shielded by an oilcloth from the wet which had full +swing at the man. To every passer-by he presented a dodger, +accompanying the polite gesture with some phrase which seemed to +move the man or woman to take what was offered and to put it away +instead of dropping it. + +Jane sank back in the carriage, disappointed. ``Is that all?'' +said she disdainfully. + +``ALL?'' cried Hull. ``Use your imagination, Jen. But I +forgot--you're a woman. They see only surfaces.'' + +``And are snared into marrying by complexions and pretty features +and dresses and silly flirting tricks,'' retorted the girl +sarcastically. + +Hull laughed. ``I spoke too quick that time,'' said he. ``I +suppose you expected to see something out of a fifteenth century +Italian old master! Well--it was there, all right.'' + +Jane shrugged her shoulders. ``And your Victor Dorn,'' said she, +``no doubt he's seated in some dry, comfortable place enjoying +the thought of his men making fools of themselves for him.'' + +They were drawing up to the curb before the Opera House where +were the assembly rooms. ``There he is now,'' cried Hull. + +Jane, startled, leaned eagerly forward. In the rain beyond the +edge of the awning stood a dripping figure not unlike that other +which had so disappointed her. Underneath the brim of the hat +she could see a smooth- shaven youngish face--almost boyish. But +the rain streaming from the brim made satisfactory scrutiny +impossible. + +Jane again sank back. ``How many carriages before us?'' she +said. + +``You're disappointed in him, too, I suppose,'' said Hull. ``I +knew you would be.'' + +``I thought he was tall,'' said Jane. + +``Only middling,'' replied Hull, curiously delighted. + +``I thought he was serious,'' said Jane. + +``On the contrary, he's always laughing. He's the best natured +man I know.'' + +As they descended and started along the carpet under the middle +of the awning, Jane halted. She glanced toward the dripping +figure whom the police would not permit under the shelter. Said +she: ``I want one of those papers.'' + +Davy moved toward the drenched distributor of strike literature. +``Give me one, Dorn,'' he said in his most elegant manner. + +``Sure, Davy,'' said Dorn in a tone that was a subtle commentary +on Hull's aristocratic tone and manner. As he spoke he glanced +at Jane; she was looking at him. Both smiled--at Davy's expense. + +Davy and Jane passed on in, Jane folding the dodger to tuck it +away for future reading. She said to him: ``But you didn't tell +me about his eyes.'' + +``What's the matter with them?'' + +``Everything,'' replied she--and said no more. + + + +II + + +The dance was even more tiresome than Jane had anticipated. +There had been little pleasure in outshining the easily outshone +belles of Remsen City. She had felt humiliated by having to +divide the honors with a brilliantly beautiful and scandalously +audacious Chicago girl, a Yvonne Hereford--whose style, in looks, +in dress and in wit, was more comfortable to the standard of the +best young men of Remsen City--a standard which Miss Hastings, +cultivated by foreign travel and social adventure, regarded as +distinctly poor, not to say low. Miss Hereford's audacities were +especially offensive to Jane. Jane was audacious herself, but +she flattered herself that she had a delicate sense of that +baffling distinction between the audacity that is the hall mark +of the lady and the audacity that proclaims the not-lady. For +example, in such apparently trifling matters as the way of +smoking a cigarette, the way of crossing the legs or putting the +elbows on the table or using slang, Jane found a difference, +abysmal though narrow, between herself and Yvonne Hereford. +``But then, her very name gives her away,'' reflected Jane. +``There'd surely be a frightfully cheap streak in a mother who in +this country would name her daughter Yvonne--or in a girl who +would name herself that.'' + +However, Jane Hastings was not deeply annoyed either by the +shortcomings of Remsen City young men or by the rivalry of Miss +Hereford. Her dissatisfaction was personal--the feeling of +futility, of cheapness, in having dressed herself in her best and +spent a whole evening at such unworthy business. ``Whatever I am +or am not fit for,'' said she to herself, ``I'm not for +society--any kind of society. At least I'm too much grown-up +mentally for that.'' Her disdainful thoughts about others were, +on this occasion as almost always, merely a mode of expressing +her self-scorn. + +As she was undressing she found in her party bag the dodger Hull +had got for her from Victor Dorn. She, sitting at her dressing +table, started to read it at once. But her attention soon +wandered. ``I'm not in the mood,'' she said. ``To-morrow.'' +And she tossed it into the top drawer. The fact was, the subject +of politics interested her only when some man in whom she was +interested was talking it to her. In a general way she +understood things political, but like almost all women and all +but a few men she could fasten her attention only on things +directly and clearly and nearly related to her own interests. +Politics seemed to her to be not at all related to her--or, +indeed, to anybody but the men running for office. This dodger +was politics, pure and simple. A plea to workingmen to awaken to +the fact that their STRIKES were stupid and wasteful, that the +way to get better pay and decent hours of labor was by uniting, +taking possession of the power that was rightfully theirs and +regulating their own affairs. + +She resumed fixing her hair for the night. Her glance bent +steadily downward at one stage of this performance, rested +unseeingly upon the handbill folded printed side out and on top +of the contents of the open drawer. She happened to see two +capital letters-- S. G.--in a line by themselves at the end of +the print. She repeated them mechanically several times--``S. G. +--S. G.--S. G.''--then her hands fell from her hair upon the +handbill. She settled herself to read in earnest. + +``Selma Gordon,'' she said. ``That's different.'' + +She would have had some difficulty in explaining to herself why +it was ``different.'' She read closely, concentratedly now. She +tried to read in an attitude of unfriendly criticism, but she +could not. A dozen lines, and the clear, earnest, honest +sentences had taken hold of her. How sensible the statements +were, and how obviously true. Why, it wasn't the writing of an +``anarchistic crank'' at all--on the contrary, the writer was if +anything more excusing toward the men who were giving the drivers +and motormen a dollar and ten cents a day for fourteen hours' +work--``fourteen hours!'' cried Jane, her cheeks burning--yes, +Selma Gordon was more tolerant of the owners of the street car +line than Jane herself would have been. + +When Jane had read, she gazed at the print with sad envy in her +eyes. ``Selma Gordon can think--and she can write, too,'' said +she half aloud. ``I want to know her--too.'' + +That ``too'' was the first admission to herself of a curiously +intense desire to meet Victor Dorn. + +``Oh, to be in earnest about something! To have a real interest! + +To find something to do besides the nursery games disguised under +new forms for the grown-up yet never to be grown-up infants of +the world. ``And THAT kind of politics doesn't sound shallow and +dull. There's heart in it--and brains--real brains--not merely +nasty little self-seeking cunning.'' She took up the handbill +again and read a paragraph set in bolder type: + +``The reason we of the working class are slaves is because we +haven't intelligence enough to be our own masters, let alone +masters of anybody else. The talk of equality, workingmen, is +nonsense to flatter your silly, ignorant vanity. We are not the +equals of our masters. They know more than we do, and naturally +they use that knowledge to make us work for them. So, even if +you win in this strike or in all your strikes, you will not much +better yourselves. Because you are ignorant and foolish, your +masters will scheme around and take from you in some other way +what you have wrenched from them in the strike. + +``Organize! Think! Learn! Then you will rise out of the dirt +where you wallow with your wives and your children. Don't blame +your masters; they don't enslave you. They don't keep you in +slavery. Your chains are of your own forging and only you can +strike them off!'' + +Certainly no tenement house woman could be lazier, emptier of +head, more inane of life than her sister Martha. ``She wouldn't +even keep clean if it wasn't the easiest thing in the world for +her to do, and a help at filling in her long idle day.'' +Yet--Martha Galland had every comfort and most of the luxuries, +was as sheltered from all the hardships as a hot-house flower. +Then there was Hugo--to go no further afield than the family. +Had he ever done an honest hour's work in his life? Could anyone +have less brains than he? Yet Hugo was rich and respected, was a +director in big corporations, was a member of a first-class law +firm. ``It isn't fair,'' thought the girl. ``I've always felt +it. I see now why. It's a bad system of taking from the many +for the benefit of us few. And it's kept going by a few clever, +strong men like father. They work for themselves and their +families and relatives and for their class--and the rest of the +people have to suffer.'' + +She did not fall asleep for several hours, such was the tumult in +her aroused brain. The first thing the next morning she went +down town, bought copies of the New Day--for that week and for a +few preceding weeks--and retreated to her favorite nook in her +father's grounds to read and to think--and to plan. She searched +the New Day in vain for any of the wild, wandering things Davy +and her father had told her Victor Dorn was putting forth. The +four pages of each number were given over either to philosophical +articles no more ``anarchistic'' than Emerson's essays, not so +much so as Carlyle's, or to plain accounts of the current +stealing by the politicians of Remsen City, of the squalor and +disease--danger in the tenements, of the outrages by the gas and +water and street car companies. There was much that was +terrible, much that was sad, much that was calculated to make an +honest heart burn with indignation against those who were +cheerily sacrificing the whole community to their desire for +profits and dividends and graft, public and private. But there +was also a great deal of humor--of rather a sardonic kind, but +still seeing the fantastic side of this grand game of swindle. + +Two paragraphs made an especial impression on her: + +``Remsen City is no worse--and no better--than other American +cities. It's typical. But we who live here needn't worry about +the rest of the country. The thing for us to do is to CLEAN UP +AT HOME.'' + +``We are more careful than any paper in this town about verifying +every statement we make, before we make it. If we should publish +a single statement about anyone that was false even in part we +would be suppressed. The judges, the bosses, the owners of the +big blood-sucking public service corporations, the whole ruling +class, are eager to put us out of existence. Don't forget this +fact when you hear the New Day called a lying, demagogical +sheet.'' + +With the paper beside her on the rustic bench, she fell to +dreaming--not of a brighter and better world, of a wiser and +freer race, but of Victor Dorn, the personality that had unaided +become such a power in Remsen City, the personality that sparkled +and glowed in the interesting pages of the New Day, that made its +sentences read as if they were spoken into your very ears by an +earnest, honest voice issuing from a fascinating, humor-loving, +intensely human and natural person before your very eyes. But it +was not round Victor Dorn's brain that her imagination played. + +``After all,'' thought she, ``Napoleon wasn't much over five +feet. Most of the big men have been little men. Of course, +there were Alexander--and Washington-- and Lincoln, but--how +silly to bother about a few inches of height, more or less! And +he wasn't really SHORT. Let me see--how high did he come on Davy +when Davy was standing near him? Above his shoulder --and Davy's +six feet two or three. He's at least as tall as I am--anyhow, in +my ordinary heels.'' + +She was attracted by both the personalities she discovered in the +little journal. She believed she could tell them apart. About +some of the articles, the shorter ones, she was doubtful. But in +those of any length she could feel that difference which enables +one to distinguish the piano touch of a player in another room-- +whether it is male or female. Presently she was searching for an +excuse for scraping acquaintance with this pair of +pariahs--pariahs so far as her world was concerned. And soon she +found it. The New Day was taking subscriptions for a fund to +send sick children and their mothers to the country for a +vacation from the dirt and heat of the tenements--for Remsen +City, proud though it was and boastful of its prosperity, housed +most of its inhabitants in slums--though of course that low sort +of people oughtn't really to be counted--except for purposes of +swelling census figures-- and to do all the rough and dirty work +necessary to keep civilization going. + +She would subscribe to this worthy charity--and would take her +subscription, herself. Settled--easily and well settled. She +did not involve herself, or commit herself in any way. Besides, +those who might find out and might think she had overstepped the +bounds would excuse her on the ground that she had not been back +at home long and did not realize what she was doing. + +What should she wear? + +Her instinct was for an elaborate toilet--a descent in state--or +such state as the extremely limited resources of Martin Hastings' +stables would permit. The traps he had ordered for her had not +yet come; she had been glad to accept David Hull's offer of a +lift the night before. Still, without a carriage or a motor she +could make quite an impression with a Paris walking dress and +hat, properly supported by fashionable accessories of the toilet. + +Good sense and good taste forbade these promptings of nature. +No, she would dress most simply--in her very plainest +things--taking care to maintain all her advantages of face and +figure. If she overwhelmed Dorn and Miss Gordon, she would +defeat her own purpose--would not become acquainted with them. + +In the end she rejected both courses and decided for the riding +costume. The reason she gave for this decision-- the reason she +gave herself--was that the riding costume would invest the call +with an air of accident, of impulse. The real reason. + +It may be that some feminine reader can guess why she chose the +most startling, the most gracefully becoming, the most artlessly +physical apparel in her wardrobe. + +She said nothing to her father at lunch about her plans. Why +should she speak of them? He might oppose; also, she might +change her mind. After lunch she set out on her usual ride, +galloping away into the hills--but she had put twenty-five +dollars in bills in her trousers pocket. She rode until she felt +that her color was at its best, and then she made for town--a +swift, direct ride, her heart beating high as if she were upon a +most daring and fateful adventure. And, as a matter of fact, +never in her life had she done anything that so intensely +interested her. She felt that she was for the first time +slackening rein upon those unconventional instincts, of unknown +strength and purpose, which had been making her restless with +their vague stirrings. + +``How silly of me!'' she thought. ``I'm doing a commonplace, +rather common thing--and I'm trying to make it seem a daring, +romantic adventure. I MUST be hard up for excitement!'' + +Toward the middle of the afternoon she dropped from her horse +before the office of the New Day and gave a boy the bridle. +``I'll be back in a minute,'' she explained. It was a two-story +frame building, dingy and in disrepair. On the street floor was +a grocery. Access to the New Day was by a rickety stairway. As +she ascended this, making a great noise on its unsteady boards +with her boots, she began to feel cheap and foolish. She +recalled what Hull had said in the carriage. ``No doubt,'' +replied she, ``I'd feel much the same way if I were going to see +Jesus Christ--a carpenter's son, sitting in some hovel, talking +with his friends the fishermen and camel drivers--not to speak of +the women.'' + +The New Day occupied two small rooms--an editorial work room, and +a printing work room behind it. Jane Hastings, in the doorway at +the head of the stairs, was seeing all there was to see. In the +editorial room were two tables--kitchen tables, littered with +papers and journals, as was the floor, also. At the table +directly opposite the door no one was sitting-- ``Victor Dorn's +desk,'' Jane decided. At the table by the open window sat a +girl, bent over her writing. Jane saw that the figure was below, +probably much below, the medium height for woman, that it was +slight and strong, that it was clad in a simple, clean gray linen +dress. The girl's black hair, drawn into a plain but distinctly +graceful knot, was of that dense and wavy thickness which is a +characteristic and a beauty of the Hebrew race. The skin at the +nape of her neck, on her hands, on her arms bare to the elbows +was of a beautiful dead-white--the skin that so admirably +compliments dead-black hair. + +Before disturbing this busy writer Jane glanced round. There was +nothing to detain her in the view of the busy printing plant in +the room beyond. But on the walls of the room before her were +four pictures --lithographs, cheap, not framed, held in place by +a tack at each corner. There was Washington--then Lincoln--then +a copy of Leonardo's Jesus in the Last Supper fresco--and a +fourth face, bearded, powerful, imperious, yet wonderfully kind +and good humored-- a face she did not know. Pointing her riding +stick at it she said: + +``And who is that?'' + +With a quick but not in the least a startled movement the girl at +the table straightened her form, turned in her chair, saying, as +she did so, without having seen the pointing stick: + +``That is Marx--Karl Marx.'' + +Jane was so astonished by the face she was now seeing--the face +of the girl--that she did not hear the reply. The girl's hair +and skin had reminded her of what Martha had told her about the +Jewish, or half-Jewish, origin of Selma Gordon. Thus, she +assumed that she would see a frankly Jewish face. Instead, the +face looking at her from beneath the wealth of thick black hair, +carelessly parted near the centre, was Russian--was +Cossack--strange and primeval, intense, dark, as superbly alive +as one of those exuberant tropical flowers that seem to cry out +the mad joy of life. Only, those flowers suggest the evanescent, +the flame burning so fiercely that it must soon burn out, while +this Russian girl declared that life was eternal. You could not +think of her as sick, as old, as anything but young and vigorous +and vivid, as full of energy as a healthy baby that kicks its +dresses into rags and wears out the strength of its strapping +nurse. Her nose was as straight as Jane's own particularly fine +example of nose. Her dark gray eyes, beneath long, slender, coal +black lines of brow, were brimming with life and with fun. She +had a wide, frank, scarlet mouth; her teeth were small and sharp +and regular, and of the strong and healthy shade of white. She +had a very small, but a very resolute chin. With another quick, +free movement she stood up. She was indeed small, but formed in +proportion. She seemed out of harmony with her linen dress. She +looked as if she ought to be careening on the steppes in some +romantic, half-savage costume. Jane's first and instant thought +was, ``There's not another like her in the whole world. She's +the only living specimen of her kind.'' + +``Gracious!'' exclaimed Jane. ``But you ARE healthy.'' + +The smile took full advantage of the opportunity to broaden into +a laugh. A most flattering expression of frank, childlike +admiration came into the dark gray eyes. ``You're not sickly, +yourself,'' replied Selma. Jane was disappointed that the voice +was not untamed Cossack, but was musically civilized. + +``Yes, but I don't flaunt it as you do,'' rejoined Jane. ``You'd +make anyone who was the least bit off, furious.'' + +Selma, still with the child-like expression, but now one of +curiosity, was examining Jane's masculine riding dress. ``What a +sensible suit!'' she cried, delightedly. ``I'd wear something +like that all the time, if I dared.'' + +``Dared?'' said Jane. ``You don't look like the frightened +sort.'' + +``Not on account of myself,'' explained Selma. ``On account of +the cause. You see, we are fighting for a new idea. So, we have +to be careful not to offend people's prejudices about ideas not +so important. If we went in for everything that's sensible, we'd +be regarded as cranks. One thing at a time.'' + +Jane's glance shifted to the fourth picture. ``Didn't you say +that was--Karl Marx?'' + +``Yes.'' + +``He wrote a book on political economy. I tried to read it at +college. But I couldn't. It was too heavy for me. He was a +Socialist--wasn't he?--the founder of Socialism?'' + +``A great deal more than that,'' replied Selma. ``He was the +most important man for human liberty that ever lived--except +perhaps one.'' And she looked at Leonardo's ``man of sorrows and +acquainted with grief.'' + +``Marx was a--a Hebrew--wasn't he?'' + +Selma's eyes danced, and Jane felt that she was laughing at her +hesitation and choice of the softer word. Selma said: + +``Yes--he was a Jew. Both were Jews.'' + +``Both?'' inquired Jane, puzzled. + +``Marx and Jesus,'' explained Selma. + +Jane was startled. ``So HE was a Jew--wasn't He?'' + +``And they were both labor leaders--labor agitators. The first +one proclaimed the brotherhood of man. But he regarded this +world as hopeless and called on the weary and heavy laden masses +to look to the next world for the righting of their wrongs. +Then--eighteen centuries after--came that second Jew''--Selma +looked passionate, reverent admiration at the powerful, bearded +face, so masterful, yet so kind--``and he said: `No! not in the +hereafter, but in the here. Here and now, my brothers. Let us +make this world a heaven. Let us redeem ourselves and destroy +the devil of ignorance who is holding us in this hell.' It was +three hundred years before that first Jew began to triumph. It +won't be so long before there are monuments to Marx in clean and +beautiful and free cities all over the earth.'' + +Jane listened intensely. There was admiring envy in her eyes as +she cried: ``How splendid!--to believe in something--and work +for it and live for it--as you do!'' + +Selma laughed, with a charming little gesture of the shoulders +and the hands that reminded Jane of her foreign parentage. +``Nothing else seems worth while,'' said she. ``Nothing else is +worth while. There are only two entirely great careers--to be a +teacher of the right kind and work to ease men's minds--as those +four did--or to be a doctor of the right kind and work to make +mankind healthy. All the suffering, all the crime, all the +wickedness, comes from ignorance or bad health--or both. Usually +it's simply bad health.'' + +Jane felt as if she were devoured of thirst and drinking at a +fresh, sparkling spring. ``I never thought of that before,'' +said she. + +``If you find out all about any criminal, big or little, you'll +discover that he had bad health--poisons in his blood that goaded +him on.'' + +Jane nodded. ``Whenever I'm difficult to get on with, I'm always +not quite well.'' + +``I can see that your disposition is perfect, when you are +well,'' said Selma. + +``And yours,'' said Jane. + +``Oh, I'm never out of humor,'' said Selma. ``You see, I'm never +sick--not the least bit.'' + +``You are Miss Gordon, aren't you?'' + +``Yes--I'm Selma Gordon.'' + +``My name is Jane Hastings.'' Then as this seemed to convey +nothing to Selma, Jane added: ``I'm not like you. I haven't an +individuality of my own--that anybody knows about. So, I'll have +to identify myself by saying that I'm Martin Hastings' +daughter.'' + +Jane confidently expected that this announcement would cause some +sort of emotion--perhaps of awe, perhaps of horror, certainly of +interest. She was disappointed. If Selma felt anything she did +not show it--and Jane was of the opinion that it would be well +nigh impossible for so direct and natural a person to conceal. +Jane went on: + +``I read in your paper about your fund for sick children. I was +riding past your office--saw the sign --and I've come in to give +what I happen to have about me.'' She drew out the small roll of +bills and handed it to Selma. + +The Russian girl--if it is fair thus to characterize one so +intensely American in manner, in accent and in speech--took the +money and said: + +``We'll acknowledge it in the paper next week.'' + +Jane flushed and a thrill of alarm ran through her. +``Oh--please--no,'' she urged. ``I'd not like to have my name +mentioned. That would look as if I had done it to seem +charitable. Besides, it's such a trifle.'' + +Selma was calm and apparently unsuspicious. ``Very well,'' said +she. ``We'll write, telling what we did with the money, so that +you can investigate.'' + +``But I trust you entirely,'' cried Jane. + +Selma shook her head. ``But we don't wish to be trusted,'' said +she. ``Only dishonest people wish to be trusted when it's +possible to avoid trusting. And we all need watching. It helps +us to keep straight.'' + +``Oh, I don't agree with you,'' protested Miss Hastings. ``Lots +of the time I'd hate to be watched. I don't want everybody to +know all I do.'' + +Selma's eyes opened. ``Why not?'' she said. + +Jane cast about for a way to explain what seemed to her a +self-evident truth. ``I mean--privacy,'' she said. ``For +instance, if you were in love, you'd not want everybody to know +about it?'' + +``Yes, indeed,'' declared Selma. ``I'd be tremendously proud of +it. It must be wonderful to be in love.'' + +In one of those curious twists of feminine nature, Miss Hastings +suddenly felt the glow of a strong, unreserved liking for this +strange, candid girl. + +Selma went on: ``But I'm afraid I never shall be. I get no time +to think about myself. From rising till bed time my work pushes +at me.'' She glanced uneasily at her desk, apologetically at +Miss Hastings. ``I ought to be writing this minute. The strike +is occupying Victor, and I'm helping out with his work.'' + +``I'm interrupting,'' said Jane. ``I'll go.'' She put out her +hand with her best, her sweetest smile. ``We're going to be +friends--aren't we?'' + +Selma clasped her hand heartily and said: ``We ARE friends. I +like everybody. There's always something to like in +everyone--and the bad part isn't their fault. But it isn't often +that I like anyone so much as I do you. You are so direct and +honest--quite different from the other women of your class that +I've met.'' + +Jane felt unaccountably grateful and humble. ``I'm afraid you're +too generous. I guess you're not a very good judge of people,'' +she said. + +``So Victor--Victor Dorn--says,'' laughed Selma. ``He says I'm +too confiding. Well--why not? And really, he trusts everybody, +too--except with the cause. Then he's--he's''--she glanced from +face to face of the four pictures--``he's like those men.'' + +Jane's glance followed Selma's. She said: ``Yes--I should +imagine so--from what I've heard.'' She startled, flushed, hid +behind a somewhat constrained manner. ``Will you come up to my +house to lunch?'' + +``If I can find time,'' said Selma. ``But I'd rather come and +take you for a walk. I have to walk two hours every day. It's +the only thing that'll keep my head clear.'' + +``When will you come?--to-morrow?'' + +``Is nine o'clock too early?'' + +Jane reflected that her father left for business at half-past +eight. ``Nine to-morrow,'' she said. ``Good- by again.'' + +As she was mounting her horse, she saw ``the Cossack girl,'' as +she was calling her, writing away at the window hardly three feet +above the level of Jane's head when she was mounted, so low was +the first story of the battered old frame house. But Selma did +not see her; she was all intent upon the writing. ``She's +forgotten me already,'' thought Jane with a pang of jealous +vanity. She added: ``But SHE has SOMETHING to think about-- she +and Victor Dorn.'' + +She was so preoccupied that she rode away with only an absent +thank you for the small boy, in an older and much larger and +wider brother's cast-off shirt, suspenders and trousers. At the +corner of the avenue she remembered and turned her horse. There +stood the boy gazing after her with a hypnotic intensity that +made her smile. She rode back fumbling in her pockets. ``I beg +your pardon,'' said she to the boy. Then she called up to Selma +Gordon: + +``Miss Gordon--please--will you lend me a quarter until +to-morrow?'' + +Selma looked up, stared dazedly at her, smiled absently at Miss +Hastings--and Miss Hastings had the strongest confirmation of her +suspicion that Selma had forgotten her and her visit the instant +she vanished from the threshold of the office. Said Selma: ``A +quarter?--oh, yes--certainly.'' She seemed to be searching a +drawer or a purse out of sight. ``I haven't anything but a five +dollar bill. I'm so sorry'' --this in an absent manner, with +most of her thoughts evidently still upon her work. She rose, +leaned from the window, glanced up the street, then down. She +went on: + +``There comes Victor Dorn. He'll lend it to you.'' + +Along the ragged brick walk at a quick pace the man who had in +such abrupt fashion stormed Jane Hasting's fancy and taken +possession of her curiosity was advancing with a basket on his +arm. He was indeed a man of small stature--about the medium +height for a woman--about the height of Jane Hastings. But his +figure was so well put together and his walk so easy and free +from self-consciousness that the question of stature no sooner +arose than it was dismissed. His head commanded all the +attention--its poise and the remarkable face that fronted it. +The features were bold, the skin was clear and healthy and rather +fair. His eyes--gray or green blue and set neither prominently +nor retreatedly--seemed to be seeing and understanding all that +was going on about him. He had a strong, rather relentless +mouth-- the mouth of men who make and compel sacrifices for their +ambitions. + +``Victor,'' cried Selma as soon as he was within easy range of +her voice, ``please lend Miss Hastings a quarter.'' And she +immediately sat down and went to work again, with the incident +dismissed from mind. + +The young man--for he was plainly not far beyond thirty--halted +and regarded the young woman on the horse. + +``I wish to give this young gentleman here a quarter,'' said +Jane. ``He was very good about holding my horse.'' + +The words were not spoken before the young gentleman darted +across the narrow street and into a yard hidden by masses of +clematis, morning glory and sweet peas. And Jane realized that +she had wholly mistaken the meaning of that hypnotic stare. + +Victor laughed--the small figure, the vast clothes, the bare feet +with voluminous trousers about them made a ludicrous sight. ``He +doesn't want it,'' said Victor. ``Thank you just the same.'' + +``But I want him to have it,'' said Jane. + +With a significant unconscious glance at her costume Dorn said: +``Those costumes haven't reached our town yet.'' + +``He did some work for me. I owe it to him.'' + +``He's my sister's little boy,'' said Dorn, with his amiable, +friendly smile. ``We mustn't start him in the bad way of +expecting pay for politeness.'' + +Jane colored as if she had been rebuked, when in fact his tone +forbade the suggestion of rebuke. There was an unpleasant +sparkle in her eyes as she regarded the young man in the baggy +suit, with the basket on his arm. ``I beg your pardon,'' said +she coldly. ``I naturally didn't know your peculiar point of +view.'' + +``That's all right,'' said Dorn carelessly. ``Thank you, and +good day.'' And with a polite raising of the hat and a manner of +good humored friendliness that showed how utterly unconscious he +was of her being offended at him, he hastened across the street +and went in at the gate where the boy had vanished. And Jane had +the sense that he had forgotten her. She glanced nervously up at +the window to see whether Selma Gordon was witnessing her +humiliation--for so she regarded it. But Selma was evidently +lost in a world of her own. ``She doesn't love him,'' Jane +decided. ``For, even though she is a strange kind of person, +she's a woman--and if she had loved him she couldn't have helped +watching while he talked with another woman-- especially with one +of my appearance and class.'' + +Jane rode slowly away. At the corner--it was a long block--she +glanced toward the scene she had just quitted. Involuntarily she +drew rein. Victor and the boy had come out into the street and +were playing catches. The game did not last long. Dorn let the +boy corner him and seize him, then gave him a great toss into the +air, catching him as he came down and giving him a hug and a +kiss. The boy ran shouting merrily into the yard; Victor +disappeared in the entrance to the offices of the New Day. + +That evening, as she pretended to listen to Hull on national +politics, and while dressing the following morning Jane reflected +upon her adventure. She decided that Dorn and the ``wild girl'' +were a low, ill-mannered pair with whom she had nothing in +common, that her fantastic, impulsive interest in them had been +killed, that for the future she would avoid ``all that sort of +cattle.'' She would receive Selma Gordon politely, of +course--would plead headache as an excuse for not walking, would +get rid of her as soon as possible. ``No doubt,'' thought Jane, +with the familiar, though indignantly denied, complacence of her +class, ``as soon as she gets in here she'll want to hang on. She +played it very well, but she must have been crazy with delight at +my noticing her and offering to take her up.'' + +The postman came as Jane was finishing breakfast. He brought a +note from Selma--a hasty pencil scrawl on a sheet of printer's +copy paper: + + +``Dear Miss Hastings: For the present I'm too busy to take my +walks. So, I'll not be there to-morrow. With best regards, S. +G.' + + +Such a fury rose up in Jane that the undigested breakfast went +wrong and put her in condition to give such exhibition as chance +might tempt of that ugliness of disposition which appears from +time to time in all of us not of the meek and worm-like class, +and which we usually attribute to any cause under the sun but the +vulgar right one. ``The impertinence!'' muttered Jane, with a +second glance at the note which conveyed; among other humiliating +things, an impression of her own absolute lack of importance to +Selma Gordon. ``Serves me right for lowering myself to such +people. If I wanted to try to do anything for the working class +I'd have to keep away from them. They're so unattractive to look +at and to associate with--not like those shrewd, respectful, +interesting peasants one finds on the other side. They're better +in the East. They know their place in a way. But out here +they're insufferable.'' + +And she spent the morning quarrelling with her maid and the other +servants, issuing orders right and left, working herself into a +horrible mood dominated by a headache that was anything but a +pretense. As she wandered about the house and gardens, she +trailed a beautiful negligee with that carelessness which in a +woman of clean and orderly habits invariably indicates the +possession of many clothes and of a maid who can be counted on to +freshen things up before they shall be used again. Her father +came home to lunch in high good humor. + +``I'll not go down town again for a few days,'' said he. ``I +reckon I'd best keep out of the way. That scoundrelly Victor +Dorn has done so much lying and inciting these last four or five +years that it ain't safe for a man like me to go about when +there's trouble with the hands.'' + +``Isn't it outrageous!'' exclaimed Jane. ``He ought to be +stopped.'' + +Hastings chuckled and nodded. ``And he will be,'' said he. +``Wait till this strike's over.'' + +``When will that be?'' asked Jane. + +``Mighty soon,'' replied her father. ``I was ready for 'em this +time--good and ready. I've sent word to the governor that I want +the militia down here tomorrow----'' + +``Has there been a riot?'' cried Jane anxiously. + +``Not yet,'' said Hastings. He was laughing to himself. ``But +there will be to-night. Then the governor'll send the troops in +to-morrow afternoon.'' + +``But maybe the men'll be quiet, and then----'' began Jane, sick +inside and trembling. + +``When I say a thing'll happen, it'll happen,'' interrupted her +father. ``We've made up our minds it's time to give these +fellows a lesson. It's got to be done. A milder lesson'll serve +now, where later on it'd have to be hard. I tell you these +things because I want you to remember 'em. They'll come in +handy--when you'll have to look after your own property.'' + +She knew how her father hated the thought of his own death; this +was the nearest he had ever come to speaking of it. ``Of course, +there's your brother William,'' he went on. ``William's a good +boy--and a mighty good business man--though he does take risks +I'd never 'a took--not even when I was young and had nothing to +lose. Yes--and Billy's honest. BUT''--the big head shook +impressively--``William's human, Jenny --don't ever forget that. +The love of money's an awful thing.'' A lustful glitter like the +shine of an inextinguishable fire made his eyes fascinating and +terrible. ``It takes hold of a man and never lets go. To see +the money pile up--and up--and up.'' + +The girl turned away her gaze. She did not wish to see so far +into her father's soul. It seemed a hideous indecency. + +``So, Jenny--don't trust William, but look after your own +property.'' + +``Oh, I don't care anything about it, popsy,'' she cried, +fighting to think of him and to speak to him as simply the living +father she had always insisted on seeing. + +``Yes--you do care,'' said Hastings sharply. ``You've got to +have your money, because that's your foundation-- what you're +built on. And I'm going to train you. This here strike's a good +time to begin.'' + +After a long silence she said: ``Yes, money's what I'm built on. + +I might as well recognize the truth and act accordingly. I want +you to teach me, father.'' + +``I've got to educate you so as, when you get control, you won't +go and do fool sentimental things like some women--and some men +that warn't trained practically-- men like that Davy Hull you +think so well of. Things that'd do no good and 'd make you +smaller and weaker.'' + +``I understand,'' said the girl. ``About this strike-- WHY won't +you give the men shorter hours and better pay?'' + +``Because the company can't afford it. As things are now, +there's only enough left for a three per cent dividend after the +interest on the bonds is paid.'' + +She had read in the New Day that by a series of tricks the +``traction ring'' had quadrupled the bonded indebtedness of the +roads and multiplied the stock by six, and had pocketed the +proceeds of the steal; that three per cent on the enormously +inflated capital was in fact eighteen per cent on the actual +stock value; that seven per cent on the bonds was in fact twenty- +eight per cent on the actual bonded indebtedness; that this +traction steal was a fair illustration of how in a score of ways +in Remsen City, in a thousand and one ways in all parts of the +country, the upper class was draining away the substance of the +masses, was swindling them out of their just wages, was forcing +them to pay many times the just prices for every article of +civilized use. She had read these things--she had thought about +them--she had realized that they were true. + +She did not put to her father the question that was on her +lips--the next logical question after his answer that the company +could not afford to cut the hours lower than fourteen or to raise +wages to what was necessary for a man to have if he and his +family were to live, not in decency and comfort, but in something +less than squalor. She did not put the question because she +wished to spare her father--to spare herself the shame of hearing +his tricky answer--to spare herself the discomfort of squarely +facing a nasty truth. + +Instead she said: ``I understand. And you have got to look out +for the rights of the people who have invested their money.'' + +``If I didn't I'd be cheating them,'' said Hastings. ``And if +the men don't like their jobs, why, they can quit and get jobs +they do like.'' He added, in absolute unconsciousness of his +inconsistency, in absolute belief in his own honesty and +goodness, ``The truth is our company pays as high wages as can be +got anywhere. As for them hours--when _I_ was working my way up, +_I_ used to put in sixteen and eighteen hours a day, and was +mighty glad to do it. This lazy talk of cutting down hours makes +me sick. And these fellows that're always kicking on their jobs, +I'd like to know what'd become of them and their families if I +and men like me didn't provide work for 'em.'' + +``Yes, indeed!'' cried Jane, eagerly seizing upon this attractive +view of the situation--and resolutely accepting it without +question. + +In came one of the maids, saying: ``There's a man wants to see +you, Mr. Hastings.'' + +``What's his name? What does he want?'' inquired Hastings, while +Jane made a mental note that she must try to inject at least a +little order and form into the manners of announcing visitors. + +``He didn't give a name. He just said, `Tell the old man I want +to see him.' I ain't sure, but I think it's Dick Kelly.'' + +As Lizzie was an ardent Democrat, she spoke the name +contemptuously--for Dick Kelly was the Republican boss. If it +had been House, the Democratic boss and Kelly's secret dependent +and henchman, she would have said ``Mr. Joseph House'' in a tone +of deep respect. + +``Kelly,'' said Hastings. ``Must be something important or he'd +'a telephoned or asked me to see him at my office or at the +Lincoln Club. He never came out here before. Bring him in, +Lizzie.'' + +A moment and there appeared in the doorway a man of perhaps forty +years who looked like a prosperous contractor who had risen from +the ranks. His figure was notable for its solidity and for the +power of the shoulders; but already there were indications that +the solidity, come of hard manual labor in early life, was soon +to soften into fat under the melting influence of prosperity and +the dissipation it put within too easy reach. The striking +features of his face were a pair of keen, hard, greenish eyes and +a jaw that protruded uglily--the jaw of aggressiveness, not the +too prominent jaw of weakness. At sight of Jane he halted +awkwardly. + +``How're you, Mr. Hastings?'' said he. + +``Hello, Dick,'' said the old man. ``This is my daughter Jane.'' + +Jane smiled a pleasant recognition of the introduction. Kelly +said stiffly, ``How're you, ma'am?'' + +``Want to see me alone, I suppose?'' Hastings went on. ``You go +out on the porch, Jenny.'' + +As soon as Jane disappeared Kelly's stiffness and clumsiness +vanished. To head off Hastings' coming offer of a cigar, he drew +one from his pocket and lighted it. ``There's hell to pay, Mr. +Hastings,'' he began, seating himself near the old man, tilting +back in his chair and crossing his legs. + +``Well, I reckon you can take care of it,'' said Hastings calmly. + +``Oh, yes, we kin take care of it, all right. Only, I don't want +to do nothing without consulting you.'' + +In these two statements Mr. Kelly summed up the whole of politics +in Remsen City, in any city anywhere, in the country at large. + +Kelly had started life as a blacksmith. But he soon tired of the +dullness and toil and started forth to find some path up to where +men live by making others work for them instead of plodding along +at the hand-to- mouth existence that is the lot of those who live +by their own labors alone. He was a safe blower for a while, but +wisely soon abandoned that fascinating but precarious and +unremunerative career. From card sharp following the circus and +sheet-writer to a bookmaker he graduated into bartender, into +proprietor of a doggery. As every saloon is a political club, +every saloon- keeper is of necessity a politician. Kelly's +woodbox happened to be a convenient place for directing the +floaters and the repeaters. Kelly's political importance grew +apace. His respectability grew more slowly. But it had grown +and was growing. + +If you had asked Lizzie, the maid, why she was a Democrat, she +would have given no such foolish reason as the average man gives. + +She would not have twaddled about principles--when everyone with +eyeteeth cut ought to know that principles have departed from +politics, now that both parties have been harmonized and +organized into agencies of the plutocracy. She would not have +said she was a Democrat because her father was, or because all +her friends and associates were. She would have replied--in +pleasantly Americanized Irish: + +``I'm a Democrat because when my father got too old to work, Mr. +House, the Democrat leader, gave him a job on the elevator at the +Court House--though that dirty thief and scoundrel, Kelly, the +Republican boss, owned all the judges and county officers. And +when my brother lost his place as porter because he took a drink +too many, Mr. House gave him a card to the foreman of the gas +company, and he went to work at eight a week and is there yet.'' + +Mr. Kelly and Mr. House belong to a maligned and much +misunderstood class. Whenever you find anywhere in nature an +activity of any kind, however pestiferous its activity may seem +to you--or however good --you may be sure that if you look deep +enough you will find that that activity has a use, arises from a +need. The ``robber trusts'' and the political bosses are +interesting examples of this basic truth. They have arisen +because science, revolutionizing human society, has compelled it +to organize. The organization is crude and clumsy and stupid, as +yet, because men are ignorant, are experimenting, are working in +the dark. So, the organizing forces are necessarily crude and +clumsy and stupid. + +Mr. Hastings was--all unconsciously--organizing society +industrially. Mr. Kelly--equally unconscious of the true nature +of his activities--was organizing society politically. And as +industry and politics are--and ever have been--at bottom two +names for identically the same thing, Mr. Hastings and Mr. Kelly +were bound sooner or later to get together. + +Remsen City was organized like every other large or largish +community. There were two clubs--the Lincoln and the +Jefferson--which well enough represented the ``respectable +elements''--that is, those citizens who were of the upper class. +There were two other clubs--the Blaine and the Tilden--which were +similarly representative of the ``rank and file'' and, rather, of +the petty officers who managed the rank and file and voted it and +told it what to think and what not to think, in exchange taking +care of the needy sick, of the aged, of those out of work and so +on. Martin Hastings--the leading Republican citizen of Remsen +City, though for obvious reasons his political activities were +wholly secret and stealthy--was the leading spirit in the Lincoln +Club. Jared Olds-- Remsen City's richest and most influential +Democrat, the head of the gas company and the water company-- was +foremost in the Jefferson Club. At the Lincoln and the Jefferson +you rarely saw any but ``gentlemen'' --men of established +position and fortune, deacons and vestrymen, judges, corporation +lawyers and the like. The Blaine and the Tilden housed a +livelier and a far less select class--the ``boys''--the active +politicians, the big saloon keepers, the criminal lawyers, the +gamblers, the chaps who knew how to round up floaters and to +handle gangs of repeaters, the active young sports working for +political position, by pitching and carrying for the political +leaders, by doing their errands of charity or crookedness or what +not. Joe House was the ``big shout'' at the Tilden; Dick Kelly +could be found every evening on the third --or ``wine,'' or +plotting--floor of the Blaine-- found holding court. And very +respectful indeed were even the most eminent of Lincoln, or +Jefferson, respectabilities who sought him out there to ask +favors of him. + +The bosses tend more and more to become mere flunkeys of the +plutocrats. Kelly belonged to the old school of boss, dating +from the days when social organization was in the early stages, +when the political organizer was feared and even served by the +industrial organizer, the embryo plutocrats. He realized how +necessary he was to his plutocratic master, and he made that +master treat him almost as an equal. He was exacting ever larger +pay for taking care of the voters and keeping them fooled; he was +getting rich, and had as yet vague aspirations to respectability +and fashion. He had stopped drinking, had ``cut out the women,'' +had made a beginning toward a less inelegant way of speaking the +language. His view of life was what is called cynical. That is, +he regarded himself as morally the equal of the respectable +rulers of society--or of the preachers who attended to the +religious part of the grand industry of ``keeping the cow quiet +while it was being milked.'' + +But Mr. Kelly was explaining to Martin Hastings what he meant +when he said that there was ``hell to pay'': + +``That infernal little cuss, Victor Dorn,'' said he ``made a +speech in the Court House Square to-day. Of course, none of the +decent papers--and they're all decent except his'n--will publish +any of it. Still, there was about a thousand people there before +he got through--and the thing'll spread.'' + +``Speech?--what about?'' said Hastings. ``He's always shooting +off his mouth. He'd better stop talking and go to work at some +honest business.'' + +``He's got on to the fact that this strike is a put-up job--that +the company hired labor detectives in Chicago last winter to come +down here and get hold of the union. He gave names--amounts +paid--the whole damn thing.'' + +``Um,'' said Hastings, rubbing his skinny hands along the shiny +pantaloons over his meagre legs. ``Um.'' + +``But that ain't all,'' pursued Kelly. ``He read out a list of +the men told off to pretend to set fire to the car barns and +start the riot--those Chicago chaps, you know.'' + +``I don't know anything about it,'' said Hastings sharply. + +Kelly smiled slightly--amused scorn. It seemed absurd to him for +the old man to keep up the pretense of ignorance. In fact, +Hastings was ignorant--of the details. He was not quite the +aloof plutocrat of the modern school, who permits himself to know +nothing of details beyond the dividend rate and similar innocent +looking results of causes at which sometimes hell itself would +shudder. But, while he was more active than the +conscience-easing devices now working smoothly made necessary, he +never permitted himself to know any unnecessary criminal or +wicked fact about his enterprises. + +``I don't know,'' he repeated. ``And I don't want to know.'' + +``Anyhow, Dorn gave away the whole thing. He even read a copy of +your letter of introduction to the governor--the one +you--according to Dorn--gave Fillmore when you sent him up to the +Capitol to arrange for the invitation to come after the riot.'' + +Hastings knew that the boss was deliberately ``rubbing it in'' +because Hastings--that is, Hastings' agents had not invited Kelly +to assist in the project for ``teaching the labor element a much +needed lesson.'' But knowledge of Kelly's motive did not make +the truth he was telling any less true--the absurd mismanagement +of the whole affair, with the result that Dorn seemed in the way +to change it from a lesson to labor on the folly of revolt +against their kind and generous but firm employers into a +provoker of fresh and fiercer revolt --effective +revolt--political revolt. So, as Kelly ``rubbed,'' Hastings +visibly winced and writhed. + +Kelly ended his recital with: ``The speech created a hell of a +sensation, Mr. Hastings. That young chap can talk.'' + +``Yes,'' snapped Hastings. ``But he can't do anything else.'' + +``I'm not so sure of that,'' replied Kelly, who was wise enough +to realize the value of a bogey like Dorn --its usefulness for +purposes of ``throwing a scare into the silk-stocking crowd.'' +``Dorn's getting mighty strong with the people.'' + +``Stuff and nonsense!'' retorted Hastings. ``They'll listen to +any slick tongued rascal that roasts those that are more +prosperous than they are. But when it comes to doing anything, +they know better. They envy and hate those that give them jobs, +but they need the jobs.'' + +``There's a good deal of truth in that, Mr. Hastings,'' said +Kelly, who was nothing if not judicial. ``But Dorn's mighty +plausible. I hear sensible men saying there's something more'n +hot air in his facts and figgures.'' Kelly paused, and made the +pause significant. + +``About that last block of traction stock, Mr. Hastings. I +thought you were going to let me in on the ground floor. But I +ain't heard nothing.'' + +``You ARE in,'' said Hastings, who knew when to yield. ``Hasn't +Barker been to see you? I'll attend to it, myself.'' + +``Thank you, Mr. Hastings,'' said Kelly--dry and brief as always +when receipting with a polite phrase for pay for services +rendered. ``I've been a good friend to your people.'' + +``Yes, you have, Dick,'' said the old man heartily. ``And I want +you to jump in and take charge.'' + +Hastings more than suspected that Kelly, to bring him to terms +and to force him to employ directly the high-priced Kelly or +Republico-Democratic machine as well as the State +Republico-Democratic machine, which was cheaper, had got together +the inside information and had ordered one of his henchmen to +convey it to Dorn. But of what use to quarrel with Kelly? Of +course, he could depose him; but that would simply mean putting +another boss in his place--perhaps one more expensive and less +efficient. The time had been when he--and the plutocracy +generally--were compelled to come to the political bosses almost +hat in hand. That time was past, never to return. But still a +competent political agent was even harder to find than a +competent business manager--and was far more necessary; for, +while a big business might stagger along under poor financial or +organizing management within, it could not live at all without +political favors, immunities, and licenses. A band of +pickpockets might as well try to work a town without having first +``squared'' the police. Not that Mr. Hastings and his friends +THEMSELVES compared themselves to a band of pickpockets. No, +indeed. It was simply legitimate business to blackjack your +competitors, corner a supply, create a monopoly and fix prices +and wages to suit your own notions of what was your due for +taking the ``hazardous risks of business enterprise.'' + +``Leave everything to me,'' said Kelly briskly. ``I can put the +thing through. Just tell your lawyer to apply late this +afternoon to Judge Lansing for an injunction forbidding the +strikers to assemble anywhere within the county. We don't want +no more of this speechifying. This is a peaceable community, and +it won't stand for no agitators.'' + +``Hadn't the lawyers better go to Judge Freilig?'' said Hastings. + +``He's shown himself to be a man of sound ideas.'' + +``No--Lansing,'' said Kelly. ``He don't come up for re-election +for five years. Freilig comes up next fall, and we'll have hard +work to pull him through, though House is going to put him on the +ticket, too. Dorn's going to make a hot campaign--concentrate on +judges.'' + +``There's nothing in that Dorn talk,'' said Hastings. ``You +can't scare me again, Dick, as you did with that Populist mare's +nest ten years ago.'' + +That had been Kelly's first ``big killing'' by working on the +fears of the plutocracy. Its success had put him in a position +to buy a carriage and a diamond necklace for Mrs. Kelly and to +make first payments on a large block of real estate. ``It was no +mare's nest, Mr. Hastings,'' gravely declared the boss. ``If I +hadn't 'a knowed just how to use the money we collected, there'd +'a been a crowd in office for four years that wouldn't 'a been +easy to manage, I can tell you. But they was nothing to this +here Dorn crowd. Dorn is----'' + +``We must get rid of him, Dick,'' interrupted Hastings. + +The two men looked at each other--a curious glance --telegraphy. +No method was suggested, no price was offered or accepted. But +in the circumstances those matters became details that would +settle themselves; the bargain was struck. + +``He certainly ought to be stopped,'' said Kelly carelessly. +``He's the worst enemy the labor element has had in my time.'' +He rose. ``Well, Mr. Hastings, I must be going.'' He extended +his heavy, strong hand, which Hastings rose to grasp. ``I'm glad +we're working together again without any hitches. You won't +forget about that there stock?'' + +``I'll telephone about it right away, Dick--and about Judge +Lansing. You're sure Lansing's all right? I didn't like those +decisions of his last year--the railway cases, I mean.'' + +``That was all right, Mr. Hastings,'' said Kelly with a wave of +the hand. ``I had to have 'em in the interests of the party. I +knowed the upper court'd reverse. No, Lansing's a good party +man--a good, sound man in every way.'' + +``I'm glad to hear it,'' said Hastings. + +Before going into his private room to think and plan and +telephone, he looked out on the west veranda. There sat his +daughter; and a few feet away was David Hull, his long form +stretched in a hammock while he discoursed of his projects for a +career as a political reformer. The sight immensely pleased the +old man. When he was a boy David Hull's grandfather, Brainerd +Hull, had been the great man of that region; and Martin Hastings, +a farm hand and the son of a farm hand, had looked up at him as +the embodiment of all that was grand and aristocratic. As +Hastings had never travelled, his notions of rank and position +all centred about Remsen City. Had he realized the extent of the +world, he would have regarded his ambition for a match between +the daughter and granddaughter of a farm hand and the son and +grandson of a Remsen City aristocrat as small and ridiculous. +But he did not realize. + +Davy saw him and sprang to his feet. + +``No--no--don't disturb yourselves,'' cried the old man. ``I've +got some things to 'tend to. You and Jenny go right ahead.'' + +And he was off to his own little room where he conducted his own +business in his own primitive but highly efficacious way. A +corps of expert accountants could not have disentangled those +crabbed, criss-crossed figures; no solver of puzzles could have +unravelled the mystery of those strange hieroglyphics. But to +the old man there wasn't a difficult--or a dull--mark in that +entire set of dirty, dog-eared little account books. He spent +hours in poring over them. Just to turn the pages gave him keen +pleasure; to read, and to reconstruct from those hints the whole +story of some agitating and profitable operation, made in +comparison the delight of an imaginative boy in Monte Cristo or +Crusoe seem a cold and tame emotion. + +David talked on and on, fancying that Jane was listening and +admiring, when in fact she was busy with her own entirely +different train of thought. She kept the young man going because +she did not wish to be bored with her own solitude, because a man +about always made life at least a little more interesting than if +she were alone or with a woman, and because Davy was good to look +at and had an agreeable voice. + +``Why, who's that?'' she suddenly exclaimed, gazing off to the +right. + +Davy turned and looked. ``I don't know her,'' he said. ``Isn't +she queer looking--yet I don't know just why.'' + +``It's Selma Gordon,'' said Jane, who had recognized Selma the +instant her eyes caught a figure moving across the lawn. + +``The girl that helps Victor Dorn?'' said Davy, astonished. +``What's SHE coming HERE for? You don't know her--do you?'' + +``Don't you?'' evaded Jane. ``I thought you and Mr. Dorn were +such pals.'' + +``Pals?'' laughed Hull. ``Hardly that. We meet now and then at +a workingman's club I'm interested in--and at a cafe' where I +go to get in touch with the people occasionally--and in the +street. But I never go to his office. I couldn't afford to do +that. And I've never seen Miss Gordon.'' + +``Well, she's worth seeing,'' said Jane. ``You'll never see +another like her.'' + +They rose and watched her advancing. To the usual person, +acutely conscious of self, walking is not easy in such +circumstances. But Selma, who never bothered about herself, came +on with that matchless steady grace which peasant girls often get +through carrying burdens on the head. Jane called out: + +``So, you've come, after all.'' + +Selma smiled gravely. Not until she was within a few feet of the +steps did she answer: ``Yes--but on business.'' She was wearing +the same linen dress. On her head was a sailor hat, beneath the +brim of which her amazingly thick hair stood out in a kind of +defiance. This hat, this further article of Western +civilization's dress, added to the suggestion of the absurdity of +such a person in such clothing. But in her strange Cossack way +she certainly was beautiful--and as healthy and hardy as if she +had never before been away from the high, wind-swept plateaus +where disease is unknown and where nothing is thought of living +to be a hundred or a hundred and twenty-five. Both before and +after the introduction Davy Hull gazed at her with fascinated +curiosity too plainly written upon his long, sallow, serious +face. She, intent upon her mission, ignored him as the arrow +ignores the other birds of the flock in its flight to the one at +which it is aimed. + +``You'll give me a minute or two alone?'' she said to Jane. ``We +can walk on the lawn here.'' + +Hull caught up his hat. ``I was just going,'' said he. Then he +hesitated, looked at Selma, stammered: ``I'll go to the edge of +the lawn and inspect the view.'' + +Neither girl noted this abrupt and absurd change of plan. He +departed. As soon as he had gone half a dozen steps, Selma said +in her quick, direct fashion: + +``I've come to see you about the strike.'' + +Jane tried to look cool and reserved. But that sort of +expression seemed foolish in face of the simplicity and candor of +Selma Gordon. Also, Jane was not now so well pleased with her +father's ideas and those of her own interest as she had been +while she was talking with him. The most exasperating thing +about the truth is that, once one has begun to see it--has begun +to see what is for him the truth--the honest truth--he can not +hide from it ever again. So, instead of looking cold and +repellant, Jane looked uneasy and guilty. ``Oh, yes--the +strike,'' she murmured. + +``It is over,'' said Selma. ``The union met a half hour ago and +revoked its action--on Victor Dorn's advice. He showed the men +that they had been trapped into striking by the company--that a +riot was to be started and blamed upon them--that the militia was +to be called in and they were to be shot down.'' + +``Oh, no--not that!'' cried Jane eagerly. ``It wouldn't have +gone as far as that.'' + +``Yes--as far as that,'' said Selma calmly. ``That sort of thing +is an old story. It's been done so often --and worse. You see, +the respectable gentlemen who run things hire disreputable +creatures. They don't tell them what to do. They don't need to. + +The poor wretches understand what's expected of them-- and they +do it. So, the respectable gentlemen can hold up white hands and +say quite truthfully, 'No blood-no filth on these--see!''' Selma +was laughing drearily. Her superb, primitive eyes, set ever so +little aslant, were flashing with an intensity of emotion that +gave Jane Hastings a sensation of terror-much as if a man who has +always lived where there were no storms, but such gentle little +rains with restrained and refined thunder as usually visit the +British Isles, were to find himself in the midst of one of those +awful convulsions that come crashing down the gorges of the +Rockies. She marveled that one so small of body could contain +such big emotions. + +``You mustn't be unjust,'' she pleaded. ``WE aren't THAT wicked, +my dear.'' + +Selma looked at her. ``No matter,'' she said. ``I am not trying +to convert you--or to denounce your friends to you. I'll explain +what I've come for. In his speech to-day and in inducing the +union to change, Victor has shown how much power he has. The men +whose plans he has upset will be hating him as men hate only +those whom they fear.'' + +``Yes--I believe that,'' said Jane. ``So, you see, I'm not +blindly prejudiced.'' + +``For a long time there have been rumors that they might kill +him----'' + +``Absurd!'' cried Jane angrily. ``Miss Gordon, no matter how +prejudiced you may be--and I'll admit there are many things to +justify you in feeling strongly --but no matter how you may feel, +your good sense must tell you that men like my father don't +commit murder.'' + +``I understand perfectly,'' replied Selma. ``They don't commit +murder, and they don't order murder. I'll even say that I don't +think they would tolerate murder, even for their benefit. But +you don't know how things are done in business nowadays. The men +like your father have to use men of the Kelly and the House +sort--you know who they are?'' + +``Yes,'' said Jane. + +``The Kellys and the Houses give general orders to their +lieutenants. The lieutenants pass the orders along --and down. +And so on, until all sorts of men are engaged in doing all sorts +of work. Dirty, clean, criminal--all sorts. Some of these men, +baffled in what they are trying to do to earn their pay--baffled +by Victor Dorn--plot against him.'' Again that sad, bitter +laugh. ``My dear Miss Hastings, to kill a cat there are a +thousand ways besides skinning it alive.'' + +``You are prejudiced,'' said Jane, in the manner of one who could +not be convinced. + +Selma made an impatient gesture. ``Again I say, no matter. +Victor laughs at our fears----'' + +``I knew it,'' said Jane triumphantly. ``He is less foolish than +his followers.'' + +``He simply does not think about himself,'' replied Selma. ``And +he is right. But it is our business to think about him, because +we need him. Where could we find another like him?'' + +"Yes, I suppose your movement WOULD die out, if he were not +behind it.'' + +Selma smiled peculiarly. ``I think you don't quite understand +what we are about,'' said she. ``You've accepted the ignorant +notion of your class that we are a lot of silly roosters trying +to crow one sun out of the heavens and another into it. The +facts are somewhat different. Your class is saying, `To-day will +last forever,' while we are saying, `No, to-day will run its +course--will be succeeded by to-morrow. Let us not live like the +fool who thinks only of the day. Let us be sensible, +intelligent, let us realize that there will be to-morrow and that +it, too, must be lived. Let us get ready to live it sensibly. +Let us build our social system so that it will stand the wear and +tear of another day and will not fall in ruins about our heads.' +'' + +``I am terribly ignorant about all these things,'' said Jane. +``What a ridiculous thing my education has been!'' + +``But it hasn't spoiled your heart,'' cried Selma. And all at +once her eyes were wonderfully soft and tender, and into her +voice came a tone so sweet that Jane's eyes filled with tears. +``It was to your heart that I came to appeal,'' she went on. +``Oh, Miss Hastings--we will do all we can to protect Victor Dorn +--and we guard him day and night without his knowing it. But I +am afraid--afraid! And I want you to help. Will you?'' + +``I'll do anything I can,'' said Jane--a Jane very different from +the various Janes Miss Hastings knew --a Jane who seemed to be +conjuring of Selma Gordon's enchantments. + +``I want you to ask your father to give him a fair show. We +don't ask any favors--for ourselves--for him. But we don't want +to see him--'' Selma shuddered and covered her eyes with her +hands ``--lying dead in some alley, shot or stabbed by some +unknown thug!'' + +Selma made it so vivid that Jane saw the whole tragedy before her +very eyes. + +``The real reason why they hate him,'' Selma went on, ``is +because he preaches up education and preaches down violence--and +is building his party on intelligence instead of on force. The +masters want the workingman who burns and kills and riots. They +can shoot him down. They can make people accept any tyranny in +preference to the danger of fire and murder let loose. But +Victor is teaching the workingmen to stop playing the masters' +game for them. No wonder they hate him! He makes them afraid of +the day when the united workingmen will have their way by +organizing and voting. And they know that if Victor Dorn lives, +that day will come in this city very, very soon.'' Selma saw +Davy Hull, impatient at his long wait, advancing toward them. +She said: ``You will talk to your father?'' + +``Yes,'' said Jane. ``And I assure you he will do what he can. +You don't know him, Miss Gordon.'' + +``I know he loves you--I know he MUST love you,'' said Selma. +``Now, I must go. Good-by. I knew you would be glad of the +chance to do something worth while.'' + +Jane had been rather expecting to be thanked for her generosity +and goodness. Selma's remark seemed at first blush an irritating +attempt to shift a favor asked into a favor given. But it was +impossible for her to fail to see Selma's sensible statement of +the actual truth. So, she said honestly: + +``Thank you for coming, Miss Gordon. I am glad of the chance.'' + +They shook hands. Selma, holding her hand, looked up at her, +suddenly kissed her. Jane returned the kiss. David Hull, +advancing with his gaze upon them, stopped short. Selma, without +a glance--because without a thought--in his direction, hastened +away. + +When David rejoined Jane, she was gazing tenderly after the +small, graceful figure moving toward the distant entrance gates. +Said David: + +``I think that girl has got you hypnotized.'' + +Jane laughed and sent him home. ``I'm busy,'' she said. ``I've +got something to do, at last.'' + + + +III + + +Jane knocked at the door of her father's little office. ``Are +you there, father?'' said she. + +``Yes--come in, Jinny.'' As she entered, he went on, ``But you +must go right away again. I've got to 'tend to this strike.'' +He took on an injured, melancholy tone. ``Those fool workingmen! + +They're certain to lose. And what'll come of it all? Why, +they'll be out their wages and their jobs, and the company lose +so much money that it can't put on the new cars the public's +clamorin' for. The old cars'll have to do for another year, +anyhow--maybe two.'' + +Jane had heard that lugubrious tone from time to time, and she +knew what it meant--an air of sorrow concealing secret joy. So, +here was another benefit the company--she preferred to think of +it as the company rather than as her father--expected to gain +from the strike. It could put off replacing the miserable old +cars in which it was compelling people to ride. Instead of +losing money by the strike, it would make money by it. This was +Jane's first glimpse of one of the most interesting and important +truths of modern life--how it is often to the advantage of +business men to have their own business crippled, hampered, +stopped altogether. + +``You needn't worry, father,'' said she cheerfully. ``The +strike's been declared off.'' + +``What's that?'' cried her father. + +``A girl from down town just called. She says the union has +called the strike off and the men have accepted the company's +terms.'' + +``But them terms is withdrawn!'' cried Hastings, as if his +daughter were the union. He seized the telephone. ``I'll call +up the office and order 'em withdrawn.'' + +``It's too late,'' said she. + +Just then the telephone bell rang, and Hastings was soon hearing +confirmation of the news his daughter had brought him. She could +not bear watching his face as he listened. She turned her back, +stood gazing out at the window. Her father, beside himself, was +shrieking into the telephone curses, denunciations, impossible +orders. The one emergency against which he had not provided was +the union's ending the strike. When you have struck the line of +battle of a general, however able and self-controlled, in the one +spot where he has not arranged a defense, you have thrown him-- +and his army--into a panic. Some of the greatest tactitians in +history have given way in those circumstances; so, Martin +Hastings' utter loss of self-control and of control of the +situation only proves that he had his share of human nature. He +had provided against the unexpected; he had not provided against +the impossible. + +Jane let her father rave on into the telephone until his voice +grew hoarse and squeaky. Then she turned and said: ``Now, +father--what's the use of making yourself sick? You can't do any +good--can you?'' She laid one hand on his arm, with the other +hand caressed his head. ``Hang up the receiver and think of your +health.'' + +``I don't care to live, with such goings-on,'' declared he. But +he hung up the receiver and sank back in his chair, exhausted. + +``Come out on the porch,'' she went on, tugging gently at him. +``The air's stuffy in here.'' + +He rose obediently. She led him to the veranda and seated him +comfortably, with a cushion in his back at the exact spot at +which it was most comfortable. She patted his shrunken cheeks, +stood off and looked at him. + +``Where's your sense of humor?'' she cried. ``You used to be +able to laugh when things went against you. You're getting to be +as solemn and to take yourself as seriously as Davy Hull.'' + +The old man made a not unsuccessful attempt to smile. ``That +there Victor Dorn!'' said he. ``He'll be the death of me, yet.'' + +``What has he done now?'' said Jane, innocently. + +Hastings rubbed his big bald forehead with his scrawny hand. +``He's tryin' to run this town--to run it to the devil,'' replied +he, by way of evasion. + +``Something's got to be done about him--eh?'' observed she, in a +fine imitation of a business-like voice. + +``Something WILL be done,'' retorted he. + +Jane winced--hid her distress--returned to the course she had +mapped out for herself. ``I hope it won't be something stupid,'' +said she. Then she seated herself and went on. ``Father--did +you ever stop to wonder whether it is Victor Dorn or the changed +times?'' + +The old man looked up abruptly and sharply--the expression of a +shrewd man when he catches a hint of a new idea that sounds as if +it might have something in it. + +``You blame Victor Dorn,'' she went on to explain. ``But if +there were no Victor Dorn, wouldn't you be having just the same +trouble? Aren't men of affairs having them everywhere--in Europe +as well as on this side--nowadays?'' + +The old man rubbed his brow--his nose--his chin-- pulled at the +tufts of hair in his ears--fumbled with his cuffs. All of these +gestures indicated interest and attention. + +``Isn't the real truth not Victor Dorn or Victor Dorns but a +changed and changing world?'' pursued the girl. ``And if that's +so, haven't you either got to adopt new methods or fall back? +That's the way it looks to me--and we women have got intuitions +if we haven't got sense.'' + +``_I_ never said women hadn't got sense,'' replied the old man. +``I've sometimes said MEN ain't got no sense, but not women. Not +to go no further, the women make the men work for 'em--don't +they? THAT'S a pretty good quality of sense, _I_ guess.'' + +But she knew he was busily thinking all the time about what she +had said. So she did not hesitate to go on: ``Instead of +helping Victor Dorn by giving him things to talk about, it seems +to me I'd USE him, father.'' + +``Can't do anything with him. He's crazy,'' declared Hastings. + +``I don't believe it,'' replied Jane. ``I don't believe he's +crazy. And I don't believe you can't manage him. A man like +that--a man as clever as he is--doesn't belong with a lot of +ignorant tenement-house people. He's out of place. And when +anything or anybody is out of place, they can be put in their +right place. Isn't that sense?'' + +The old man shook his head--not in negation, but in uncertainty. + +``These men are always edging you on against Victor Dorn--what's +the matter with them?'' pursued Jane. ``_I_ saw, when Davy Hull +talked about him. They're envious and jealous of him, father. +They're afraid he'll distance them. And they don't want you to +realize what a useful man he could be--how he could help you if +you helped him--made friends with him-- roused the right kind of +ambition in him.'' + +``When a man's ambitious,'' observed Hastings, out of the +fullness of his own personal experience, ``it means he's got +something inside him, teasing and nagging at him--something that +won't let him rest, but keeps pushing and pulling--and he's got +to keep fighting, trying to satisfy it--and he can't wait to pick +his ground or his weapons.'' + +``And Victor Dorn,'' said Jane, to make it clearer to her father +by putting his implied thought into words, ``Victor Dorn is doing +the best he can--fighting on the only ground that offers and with +the only weapons he can lay hands on.'' + +The old man nodded. ``I never have blamed him-- not really,'' +declared he. ``A practical man--a man that's been through +things--he understands how these things are,'' in the tone of a +philosopher. ``Yes, I reckon Victor's doing the best he +can--getting up by the only ladder he's got a chance at.'' + +``The way to get him off that ladder is to give him another,'' +said Jane. + +A long silence, the girl letting her father thresh the matter out +in his slow, thorough way. Finally her young impatience +conquered her restraint. ``Well-- what do you think, popsy?'' +inquired she. + +``That I've got about as smart a gel as there is in Remsen +City,'' replied he. + +``Don't lay it on too thick,'' laughed she. + +He understood why she was laughing, though he did not show it. +He knew what his much-traveled daughter thought of Remsen City, +but he held to his own provincial opinion, nevertheless. Nor, +perhaps, was he so far wrong as she believed. A cross section of +human society, taken almost anywhere, will reveal about the same +quantity of brain, and the quality of the mill is the thing, not +of the material it may happen to be grinding. + +She understood that his remark was his way of letting her know +that he had taken her suggestion under advisement. This meant +that she had said enough. And Jane Hastings had made herself an +adept in the art of handling her father--an accomplishment she +could by no means have achieved had she not loved him; it is only +when a woman deeply and strongly loves a man that she can learn +to influence him, for only love can put the necessary +sensitiveness into the nerves with which moods and prejudices and +whims and such subtle uncertainties can be felt out. + +The next day but one, coming out on the front veranda a few +minutes before lunch time she was startled rather than surprised +to see Victor Dorn seated on a wicker sofa, hat off and gaze +wandering delightedly over the extensive view of the beautiful +farming country round Remsen City. She paused in the doorway to +take advantage of the chance to look at him when he was off his +guard. Certainly that profile view of the young man was +impressive. It is only in the profile that we get a chance to +measure the will or propelling force behind a character. In each +of the two main curves of Dorn's head--that from the top of the +brow downward over the nose, the lips, the chin and under, and +that from the back of the head round under the ear and forward +along the lower jaw--in each of these curves Dorn excelled. + +She was about to draw back and make a formal entry, when he said, +without looking toward her: + +``Well--don't you think it would be safe to draw near?'' + +The tone was so easy and natural and so sympathetic --the tone of +Selma Gordon--the tone of all natural persons not disturbed about +themselves or about others --that Jane felt no embarrassment +whatever. ``I've heard you were very clever,'' said she, +advancing. ``So, I wanted to have the advantage of knowing you a +little better at the outset than you would know me.'' + +``But Selma Gordon has told me all about you,'' said he--he had +risen as she advanced and was shaking hands with her as if they +were old friends. ``Besides, I saw you the other day--in spite +of your effort to prevent yourself from being seen.'' + +``What do you mean?'' she asked, completely mystified. + +``I mean your clothes,'' explained he. ``They were unusual for +this part of the world. And when anyone wears unusual clothes, +they act as a disguise. Everyone neglects the person to center +on the clothes.'' + +``I wore them to be comfortable,'' protested Jane, wondering why +she was not angry at this young man whose manner ought to be +regarded as presuming and whose speech ought to be rebuked as +impertinent. + +``Altogether?'' said Dorn, his intensely blue eyes dancing. + +In spite of herself she smiled. ``No--not altogether,'' she +admitted. + +``Well, it may please you to learn that you scored tremendously +as far as one person is concerned. My small nephew talks of you +all the time--the `lady in the lovely pants.' '' + +Jane colored deeply and angrily. She bent upon Victor a glance +that ought to have put him in his place --well down in his place. + +But he continued to look at her with unchanged, laughing, +friendly blue eyes, and went on: ``By the way, his mother asked +me to apologize for HIS extraordinary appearance. I suppose +neither of you would recognize the other in any dress but the one +each had on that day. He doesn't always dress that way. His +mother has been ill. He wore out his play-clothes. If you've +had experience of children you'll know how suddenly they demolish +clothes. She wasn't well enough to do any tailoring, so there +was nothing to do but send Leonard forth in his big brother's +unchanged cast-offs.'' + +Jane's anger had quite passed away before Dorn finished this +simple, ingenuous recital of poverty unashamed, this somehow fine +laying open of the inmost family secrets. ``What a splendid +person your sister must be!'' exclaimed she. + +She more than liked the look that now came into his face. He +said: ``Indeed she is!--more so than anyone except us of the +family can realize. Mother's getting old and almost helpless. +My brother-in-law was paralyzed by an accident at the rolling +mill where he worked. My sister takes care of both of them--and +her two boys--and of me--keeps the house in band-box order, +manages a big garden that gives us most of what we eat--and has +time to listen to the woes of all the neighbors and to give them +the best advice I ever heard.'' + +``How CAN she?'' cried Jane. ``Why, the day isn't long enough.'' + +Dorn laughed. ``You'll never realize how much time there is in a +day, Miss Jane Hastings, until you try to make use of it all. +It's very interesting--how much there is in a minute and in a +dollar if you're intelligent about them.'' + +Jane looked at him in undisguised wonder and admiration. ``You +don't know what a pleasure it is,'' she said, ``to meet anyone +whose sentences you couldn't finish for him before he's a quarter +the way through them.'' + +Victor threw back his head and laughed--a boyish outburst that +would have seemed boorish in another, but came as naturally from +him as song from a bird. ``You mean Davy Hull,'' said he. + +Jane felt herself coloring even more. ``I didn't mean him +especially,'' replied she. ``But he's a good example.'' + +``The best I know,'' declared Victor. ``You see, the trouble +with Davy is that he is one kind of a person, wants to be another +kind, thinks he ought to be a third kind, and believes he fools +people into thinking he is still a fourth kind.'' + +Jane reflected on this, smiled understandingly. ``That sounds +like a description of ME,'' said she. + +``Probably,'' said Victor. ``It's a very usual type in the +second generation in your class.'' + +``My class?'' said Jane, somewhat affectedly. ``What do you +mean?'' + +``The upper class,'' explained Victor. + +Jane felt that this was an opportunity for a fine exhibition of +her democracy. ``I don't like that,'' said she. ``I'm a good +American, and I don't believe in classes. I don't feel--at least +I try not to feel--any sense of inequality between myself and +those--those less--less--fortunately off. I'm not expressing +myself well, but you know what I mean.'' + +``Yes, I know what you mean,'' rejoined Victor. ``But that +wasn't what I meant, at all. You are talking about social +classes in the narrow sense. That sort of thing isn't important. + +One associates with the kind of people that pleases one--and one +has a perfect right to do so. If I choose to have my leisure +time with people who dress a certain way, or with those who have +more than a certain amount of money, or more than a certain +number of servants or what not--why, that's my own lookout.'' + +``I'm SO glad to hear you say that,'' cried Jane. ``That's SO +sensible.'' + +``Snobbishness may be amusing,'' continued Dorn, ``or it may be +repulsive--or pitiful. But it isn't either interesting or +important. The classes I had in mind were the economic +classes--upper, middle, lower. The upper class includes all +those who live without work-- aristocrats, gamblers, thieves, +preachers, women living off men in or out of marriage, grown +children living off their parents or off inheritances. All the +idlers.'' + +Jane looked almost as uncomfortable as she felt. She had long +taken a secret delight in being regarded and spoken of as an +``upper class'' person. Henceforth this delight would be at +least alloyed. + +``The middle class,'' pursued Victor, ``is those who are in part +parasites and in part workers. The lower class is those who live +by what they earn only. For example, you are upper class, your +father is middle class and I am lower class.'' + +``Thank you,'' said Jane demurely, ``for an interesting lesson in +political economy.'' + +``You invited it,'' laughed Victor. ``And I guess it wasn't much +more tiresome to you than talk about the weather would have been. + +The weather's probably about the only other subject you and I +have in common.'' + +``That's rude,'' said Jane. + +``Not as I meant it,'' said he. ``I wasn't exalting my subjects +or sneering at yours. It's obvious that you and I lead wholly +different lives.'' + +``I'd much rather lead your life than my own,'' said Jane. +``But--you are impatient to see father. You came to see him?'' + +``He telephoned asking me to come to dinner--that is, lunch. I +believe it's called lunch when it's second in this sort of +house.'' + +``Father calls it dinner, and I call it lunch, and the servants +call it IT. They simply say, `It's ready.' '' + +Jane went in search of her father, found him asleep in his chair +in the little office, one of his dirty little account books +clasped in his long, thin fingers with their rheumatic side +curve. The maid had seen him there and had held back dinner +until he should awaken. Perhaps Jane's entrance roused him; or, +perhaps it was the odor of the sachet powder wherewith her +garments were liberally scented, for he had a singularly delicate +sense of smell. He lifted his head and, after the manner of aged +and confirmed cat-nappers, was instantly wide awake. + +``Why didn't you tell me Victor Dorn was coming for dinner?'' +said she. + +``Oh--he's here, is he?'' said Hastings, chuckling. ``You see I +took your advice. Tell Lizzie to lay an extra plate.'' + +Hastings regarded this invitation as evidence of his breadth of +mind, his freedom from prejudice, his disposition to do the +generous and the helpful thing. In fact, it was evidence of +little more than his dominant and most valuable trait--his +shrewdness. After one careful glance over the ruins of his plan, +he appreciated that Victor Dorn was at last a force to be +reckoned with. He had been growing, growing--somewhat above the +surface, a great deal more beneath the surface. His astonishing +victory demonstrated his power over Remsen City labor--in a +single afternoon he had persuaded the street car union to give up +without hesitation a strike it had been planning--at least, it +thought it had been doing the planning--for months. The Remsen +City plutocracy was by no means dependent upon the city +government of Remsen City. It had the county courts--the +district courts--the State courts even, except where favoring the +plutocracy would be too obviously outrageous for judges who still +considered themselves men of honest and just mind to decide that +way. The plutocracy, further, controlled all the legislative and +executive machinery. To dislodge it from these fortresses would +mean a campaign of years upon years, conducted by men of the +highest ability, and enlisting a majority of the voters of the +State. Still, possession of the Remsen City government was a +most valuable asset. A hostile government could ``upset +business,'' could ``hamper the profitable investment of +capital,'' in other words could establish justice to a highly +uncomfortable degree. This victory of Dorn's made it clear to +Hastings that at last Dorn was about to unite the labor vote +under his banner--which meant that he was about to conquer the +city government. It was high time to stop him and, if possible, +to give his talents better employment. + +However, Hastings, after the familiar human fashion, honestly +thought he was showing generosity, was going out of his way to +``give a likely young fellow a chance.'' When he came out on the +veranda he stretched forth a graciously friendly hand and, +looking shrewdly into Victor's boyishly candid eyes, said: + +``Glad to see you, young man. I want to thank you for ending +that strike. I was born a working man, and I've been one all my +life and, when I can't work any more, I want to quit the earth. +So, being a working man, I hate to see working men make fools of +themselves.'' + +Jane was watching the young man anxiously. She instinctively +knew that this speech must be rousing his passion for plain and +direct speaking. Before he had time to answer she said: +``Dinner's waiting. Let's go in.'' + +And on the way she made an opportunity to say to him in an +undertone: ``I do hope you'll be careful not to say anything +that'll upset father. I have to warn every one who comes here. +His digestion's bad, and the least thing makes him ill, and--'' +she smiled charmingly at him-- ``I HATE nursing. It's too much +like work to suit an upper-class person.'' + +There was no resisting such an appeal as that. Victor sat silent +and ate, and let the old man talk on and on. Jane saw that it +was a severe trial to him to seem to be assenting to her father's +views. Whenever he showed signs of casting off his restraint, +she gave him a pleading glance. And the old man, so weazened, so +bent and shaky, with his bowl of crackers and milk, was--or +seemed to be--proof that the girl was asking of him only what was +humane. Jane relieved the situation by talking volubly about +herself--her college experiences, what she had seen and done in +Europe. + +After dinner Hastings said: + +``I'll drive you back to town, young man. I'm going in to work, +as usual. I never took a vacation in my life. Can you beat that +record?'' + +``Oh, I knock off every once in a while for a month or so,'' said +Dorn. + +``The young fellows growing up nowadays ain't equal to us of the +old stock,'' said Martin. ``They can't stand the strain. Well, +if you're ready, we'll pull out.'' + +``Mr. Dorn's going to stop a while with me, father,'' interposed +Jane with a significant glance at Victor. ``I want to show him +the grounds and the views.'' + +``All right--all right,'' said her father. He never liked +company in his drives; company interfered with his thinking out +what he was going to do at the office. ``I'm mighty glad to know +you, young man. I hope we'll know each other better. I think +you'll find out that for a devil I'm not half bad--eh?'' + +Victor bowed, murmured something inarticulate, shook his host's +hand, and when the ceremony of parting was over drew a stealthy +breath of relief--which Jane observed. She excused herself to +accompany her father to his trap. As he was climbing in she +said: + +``Didn't you rather like him, father?'' + +Old Hastings gathered the reins in his lean, distorted hands. +``So so,'' said he. + +``He's got brains, hasn't he?'' + +``Yes; he's smart; mighty smart.'' The old man's face relaxed in +a shrewd grin. ``Too damn smart. Giddap, Bet.'' + +And he was gone. Jane stood looking after the ancient phaeton +with an expression half of amusement, half of discomfiture. ``I +might have known,'' reflected she, ``that popsy would see through +it all.'' + +When she reappeared in the front doorway Victor Dorn was at the +edge of the veranda, ready to depart. As soon as he saw her he +said gravely: ``I must be off, Miss Hastings. Thank you for the +very interesting dinner.'' He extended his hand. ``Good day.'' + +She put her hands behind her back, and stood smiling gently at +him. ``You mustn't go--not just yet. I'm about to show you the +trees and the grass, the bees, the chickens and the cows. Also, +I've something important to say to you.'' + +He shook his head. ``I'm sorry, but I must go.'' + +She stiffened slightly; her smile changed from friendly to cold. +``Oh--pardon me,'' she said. ``Good-by.'' + +He bowed, and was on the walk, and running rapidly toward the +entrance gates. + +``Mr. Dorn!'' she called. + +He turned. + +She was afraid to risk asking him to come back for a moment. He +might refuse. Standing there, looking so resolute, so completely +master of himself, so devoid of all suggestion of need for any +one or anything, he seemed just the man to turn on his heel and +depart. She descended to the walk and went to him. She said: + +``Why are you acting so peculiarly? Why did you come?'' + +``Because I understood that your father wished to propose some +changes in the way of better hours and better wages for the +men,'' replied he. ``I find that the purpose was--not that.'' + +``What was it?'' + +``I do not care to go into that.'' + +He was about to go on--on out of her life forever, she felt. +``Wait,'' she cried. ``The men will get better hours and wages. +You don't understand father's ways. He was really discussing +that very thing--in his own mind. You'll see. He has a great +admiration for you. You can do a lot with him. You owe it to +the men to make use of his liking.'' + +He looked at her in silence for a moment. Then he said: ``I'll +have to be at least partly frank with you. In all his life no +one has ever gotten anything out of your father. He uses men. +They do not use him.'' + +``Believe me, that is unjust,'' cried Jane. ``I'll tell you +another thing that was on his mind. He wants to --to make +reparation for--that accident to your father. He wants to pay +your mother and you the money the road didn't pay you when it +ought.'' + +Dorn's candid face showed how much he was impressed. This +beautiful, earnest girl, sweet and frank, seemed herself to be +another view of Martin Hastings' character--one more in accord +with her strong belief in the essential goodness of human nature. + +Said he: ``Your father owes us nothing. As for the road--its +debt never existed legally--only morally. And it has been +outlawed long ago--for there's a moral statute of limitations, +too. The best thing that ever happened to us was our not getting +that money. It put us on our mettle. It might have crushed us. +It happened to be just the thing that was needed to make us.'' + +Jane marveled at this view of his family, at the verge of +poverty, as successful. But she could not doubt his sincerity. +Said she sadly, ``But it's not to the credit of the road--or of +father. He must pay--and he knows he must.'' + +``We can't accept,'' said Dorn--a finality. + +``But you could use it to build up the paper,'' urged Jane, to +detain him. + +``The paper was started without money. It lives without +money--and it will go on living without money, or it ought to +die.'' + +``I don't understand,'' said Jane. ``But I want to understand. +I want to help. Won't you let me?'' + +He shook his head laughingly. ``Help what?'' inquired he. +``Help raise the sun? It doesn't need help.'' + +Jane began to see. ``I mean, I want to be helped,'' she cried. + +``Oh, that's another matter,'' said he. ``And very simple.'' + +``Will YOU help me?'' + +``I can't. No one can. You've got to help yourself. Each one +of us is working for himself--working not to be rich or to be +famous or to be envied, but to be free.'' + +``Working for himself--that sounds selfish, doesn't it?'' + +``If you are wise, Jane Hastings,'' said Dorn, ``you will +distrust--disbelieve in--anything that is not selfish.'' + +Jane reflected. ``Yes--I see,'' she cried. ``I never thought of +that!'' + +``A friend of mine, Wentworth,'' Victor went on, ``has put it +wonderfully clearly. He said, `Some day we shall realize that no +man can be free until all men are free.' '' + +``You HAVE helped me--in spite of your fierce refusal,'' laughed +Jane. ``You are very impatient to go, aren't you? Well, since +you won't stay I'll walk with you--as far as the end of the +shade.'' + +She was slightly uneasy lest her overtures should be +misunderstood. By the time they reached the first long, sunny +stretch of the road down to town she was so afraid that those +overtures would not be ``misunderstood'' that she marched on +beside him in the hot sun. She did not leave him until they +reached the corner of Pike avenue--and then it was he that left +her, for she could cudgel out no excuse for going further in his +direction. The only hold she had got upon him for a future +attempt was slight indeed--he had vaguely agreed to lend her some +books. + +People who have nothing to do get rid of a great deal of time in +trying to make impressions and in speculating as to what +impressions they have made. Jane--hastening toward Martha's to +get out of the sun which could not but injure a complexion so +delicately fine as hers--gave herself up to this form of +occupation. What did he think of her? Did he really have as +little sense of her physical charm as he seemed? No woman could +hope to be attractive to every man. Still--this man surely must +be at least not altogether insensible. ``If he sends me those +books to-day--or tomorrow-- or even next day,'' thought Jane, +``it will be a pretty sure sign that he was impressed--whether he +knows it or not.'' + +She had now definitely passed beyond the stage where she wondered +at herself--and reproached herself--for wishing to win a man of +such common origin and surroundings. She could not doubt Victor +Dorn's superiority. Such a man as that didn't need birth or +wealth or even fame. He simply WAS the man worth while-- worth +any woman's while. How could Selma be associated so intimately +with him without trying to get him in love with her? Perhaps she +had tried and had given up? No--Selma was as strange in her way +as he was in his way. What a strange--original--INDIVIDUAL pair +they were! + +``But,'' concluded Jane, ``he belongs with US. I must take him +away from all that. It will be interesting to do it--so +interesting that I'll be sorry when it's done, and I'll be +looking about for something else to do.'' + +She was not without hope that the books would come that same +evening. But they did not. The next day passed, and the next, +and still no books. Apparently he had meant nothing by his +remark, ``I've some books you'd be interested to read.'' Was his +silence indifference, or was it shyness? Probably she could only +faintly appreciate the effect her position, her surroundings +produced in this man whose physical surroundings had always been +as poor as her mental surroundings-- those created by that +marvelous mind of his--had been splendid. + +She tried to draw out her father on the subject of the young man, +with a view to getting a hint as to whether he purposed doing +anything further. But old Hastings would not talk about it; he +was still debating, was looking at the matter from a standpoint +where his daughter's purely theoretical acumen could not help him +to a decision. Jane rather feared that where her father was +evidently so doubtful he would follow his invariable rule in +doubtful cases. + +On the fourth day, being still unable to think of anything but +her project for showing her prowess by conquering this man with +no time for women, she donned a severely plain walking costume +and went to his office. + +At the threshold of the ``Sanctum'' she stopped short. Selma, +pencil poised over her block of copy paper and every indication +of impatience, albeit polite impatience, in her fascinating +Cossack face, was talking to--or, rather, listening to--David +Hull. Like not a few young men--and young women--brought up in +circumstances that surround them with people deferential for the +sake of what there is, or may possibly be, in it--Davy Hull had +the habit of assuming that all the world was as fond of listening +to him as he was of listening to himself. So it did not often +occur to him to observe his audience for signs of a willingness +to end the conversation. + +Selma, turning a little further in her nervousness, saw Jane and +sprang up with a radiant smile of welcome. + +``I'm SO glad!'' she cried, rushing toward her and kissing her. +``I've thought about you often, and wished I could find time to +come to see you.'' + +Jane was suddenly as delighted as Selma. For Selma's burst of +friendliness, so genuine, so unaffected, in this life of +blackness and cold always had the effect of sun suddenly making +summer out of a chill autumnal day. Nor, curiously enough, was +her delight lessened by Davy Hull's blundering betrayal of +himself. His color, his eccentric twitchings of the lips and the +hands would have let a far less astute young woman than Jane +Hastings into the secret of the reason for his presence in that +office when he had said he couldn't ``afford'' to go. So guilty +did he feel that he stammered out: + +``I dropped in to see Dorn.'' + +``You wished to see Victor?'' exclaimed the guileless Selma. +``Why didn't you say so? I'd have told you at once that he was +in Indianapolis and wouldn't be back for two or three days.'' + +Jane straightway felt still better. The disgusting mystery of +the books that did not come was now cleared up. Secure in the +certainty of Selma's indifference to Davy she proceeded to punish +him. ``What a stupid you are, Davy!'' she cried mockingly. +``The instant I saw your face I knew you were here to flirt with +Miss Gordon.'' + +``Oh, no, Miss Hastings,'' protested Selma with quaint intensity +of seriousness, ``I assure you he was not flirting. He was +telling me about the reform movement he and his friends are +organizing.'' + +``That is his way of flirting,'' said Jane. ``Every animal has +its own way--and an elephant's way is different from a +mosquito's.'' + +Selma was eyeing Hull dubiously. It was bad enough for him to +have taken her time in a well-meaning attempt to enlighten her as +to a new phase of local politics; to take her time, to waste it, +in flirting--that was too exasperating! + +``Miss Hastings has a sense of humor that runs riot at times,'' +said Hull. + +``You can't save yourself, Davy,'' mocked Jane. ``Come along. +Miss Gordon has no time for either of us.'' + +``I do want YOU to stay,'' she said to Jane. ``But, +unfortunately, with Victor away----'' She looked disconsolately +at the half-finished page of copy. + +``I came only to snatch Davy away,'' said Jane. + +``Next thing we know, he'll be one of Mr. Dorn's lieutenants.'' + +Thus Jane escaped without having to betray why she had come. In +the street she kept up her raillery. ``And a WORKING girl, Davy! + +What would our friends say! And you who are always boasting of +your fastidiousness! Flirting with a girl who--I've seen her +three times, and each time she has had on exactly the same plain, +cheap little dress.'' + +There was a nastiness, a vulgarity in this that was as unworthy +of Jane as are all the unlovely emotions of us who are always +sweet and refined when we are our true selves--but have a bad +habit of only too often not being what we flatter ourselves is +our true selves. Jane was growing angry as she, away from Selma, +resumed her normal place in the world and her normal point of +view. Davy Hull belonged to her; he had no right to be hanging +about another, anyway--especially an attractive woman. Her anger +was not lessened by Davy's retort. Said he: + +``Her dress may have been the same. But her face wasn't--and her +mind wasn't. Those things are more difficult to change than a +dress.'' + +She was so angry that she did not take warning from this reminder +that Davy was by no means merely a tedious retailer of stale +commonplaces. She said with fine irony--and with no show of +anger: ``It is always a shock to a lady to realize how coarse +men are--how they don't discriminate.'' + +Davy laughed. ``Women get their rank from men,'' said he coolly. + +``In themselves they have none. That's the philosophy of the +peculiarity you've noted.'' + +This truth, so galling to a lady, silenced Jane, made her bite +her lips with rage. ``I beg your pardon,'' she finally said. +``I didn't realize that you were in love with Selma.'' + +``Yes, I am in love with her,'' was Davy's astounding reply. +``She's the noblest and simplest creature I've ever met.'' + +``You don't mean you want to marry her!'' exclaimed Jane, so +amazed that she for the moment lost sight of her own personal +interest in this affair. + +Davy looked at her sadly, and a little contemptuously. + +``What a poor opinion at bottom you women--your sort of +women--have of woman,'' said he. + +``What a poor opinion of men you mean,'' retorted she. ``After a +little experience of them a girl--even a girl--learns that they +are incapable of any emotion that isn't gross.'' + +``Don't be so ladylike, Jane,'' said Hull. + +Miss Hastings was recovering control of herself. She took a new +tack. ``You haven't asked her yet?'' + +``Hardly. This is the second time I've seen her. I suspected +that she was the woman for me the moment I saw her. To-day I +confirmed my idea. She is all that I thought--and more. And, +Jane, I know that you appreciate her, too.'' + +Jane now saw that Davy was being thus abruptly and speedily +confiding because he had decided it was the best way out of his +entanglement with her. Behind his coolness she could see an +uneasy watchfulness--the fear that she might try to hold him. Up +boiled her rage--the higher because she knew that if there were +any possible way of holding Davy, she would take it-- not because +she wished to, or would, marry him, but because she had put her +mark upon him. But this new rage was of the kind a clever woman +has small difficulty in dissembling. + +``Indeed I do appreciate her, Davy,'' said she sweetly. ``And I +hope you will be happy with her.'' + +``You think I can get her?'' said he, fatuously eager. ``You +think she likes me? I've been rather hoping that because it +seized me so suddenly and so powerfully it must have seized her, +too. I think often things occur that way.'' + +``In novels,'' said Jane, pleasantly judicial. ``But in real +life about the hardest thing to do is for a man to make a woman +care for him--really care for him.'' + +``Well, no matter how hard I have to try----'' + +``Of course,'' pursued Miss Hastings, ignoring his interruption, +``when a man who has wealth and position asks a woman who hasn't +to marry him, she usually accepts--unless he happens to be +downright repulsive, or she happens to be deeply and hopefully in +love with another man.'' + +Davy winced satisfactorily. ``Do you suspect,'' he presently +asked, ``that she's in love with Victor Dorn?'' + +``Perhaps,'' said Jane reflectively. ``Probably. But I'd not +feel discouraged by that if I were you.'' + +``Dorn's a rather attractive chap in some ways.'' + +Davy's manner was so superior that Jane almost laughed in his +face. What fools men were. If Victor Dorn had position, weren't +surrounded by his unquestionably, hopelessly common family, +weren't deliberately keeping himself common--was there a woman in +the world who wouldn't choose him without a second thought being +necessary, in preference to a Davy Hull? How few men there were +who could reasonably hope to hold their women against all comers. + +Victor Dorn might possibly be of those few. But Davy Hull--the +idea was ridiculous. All his advantages--height, looks, money, +position--were excellent qualities in a show piece; but they +weren't the qualities that make a woman want to live her life +with a man, that make her hope he will be able to give her the +emotions woman-nature craves beyond anything. + +``He is very attractive,'' said Jane, ``and I've small doubt that +Selma Gordon is infatuated with him. But --I shouldn't let that +worry me if I were you.'' She paused to enjoy his anxiety, then +proceeded: ``She is a level-headed girl. The girls of the +working class-- the intelligent ones--have had the silly +sentimentalities knocked out of them by experience. So, when you +ask her to marry you, she will accept.'' + +``What a low opinion you have of her!'' exclaimed Davy. ``What a +low view you take of life!''--most inconsistent of him, since he +was himself more than half convinced that Jane's observations +were not far from the truth. + +``Women are sensible,'' said Jane tranquilly. ``They appreciate +that they've got to get a man to support them. Don't forget, my +dear Davy, that marriage is a woman's career.'' + +``You lived abroad too long,'' said Hull bitterly. + +``I've lived at home and abroad long enough and intelligently +enough not to think stupid hypocrisies, even if I do sometimes +imitate other people and SAY them.'' + +``I am sure that Selma Gordon would no more think of marrying me +for any other reason but love--would no more think of it +than--than YOU would!'' + +``No more,'' was Jane's unruffled reply. ``But just as much. I +didn't absolutely refuse you, when you asked me the other day, +partly because I saw no other way of stopping your tiresome +talk--and your unattractive way of trying to lay hands on me. I +DETEST being handled.'' + +Davy was looking so uncomfortable that he attracted the attention +of the people they were passing in wide, shady Lincoln Avenue. + +``But my principal reason,'' continued Jane, mercilessly amiable +and candid, ``was that I didn't know but that you might prove to +be about the best I could get, as a means to realizing my +ambition.'' She looked laughingly at the unhappy young man. +``You didn't think I was in love with you, did you, Davy dear?'' +Then, while the confusion following this blow was at its height, +she added: ``You'll remember one of your chief arguments for my +accepting you was ambition. You didn't think it low then--did +you?'' + +Hull was one of the dry-skinned people. But if he had been +sweating profusely he would have looked and would have been less +wretched than burning up in the smothered heat of his misery. + +They were nearing Martha's gates. Jane said: ``Yes, Davy, +you've got a good chance. And as soon as she gets used to our +way of living, she'll make you a good wife.'' She laughed gayly. + +``She'll not be quite so pretty when she settles down and takes +on flesh. I wonder how she'll look in fine clothes and jewels.'' + +She measured Hull's stature with a critical eye. ``She's only +about half as tall as you. How funny you'll look together!'' +With sudden soberness and sweetness, ``But, seriously, David, I'm +proud of your courage in taking a girl for herself regardless of +her surroundings. So few men would be willing to face the +ridicule and the criticism, and all the social difficulties.'' +She nodded encouragingly. ``Go in and win! You can count on my +friendship--for I'm in love with her myself.'' + +She left him standing dazedly, looking up and down the street as +if it were some strange and pine-beset highway in a foreign land. + +After taking a few steps she returned to the gates and called +him: ``I forgot to ask do you want me to regard what you've told +me as confidential? I was thinking of telling Martha and Hugo, +and it occurred to me that you might not like it.'' + +``Please don't say anything about it,'' said he with panicky +eagerness. ``You see--nothing's settled yet.'' + +``Oh, she'll accept you.'' + +``But I haven't even asked her,'' pleaded Hull. + +``Oh--all right--as you please.'' + +When she was safely within doors she dropped to a chair and burst +out laughing. It was part of Jane's passion for the sense of +triumph over the male sex to felt that she had made a ``perfect +jumping jack of a fool'' of David Hull. ``And I rather think,'' +said she to herself, ``that he'll soon be back where he +belongs.'' This with a glance at the tall heels of the slippers +on the good-looking feet she was thrusting out for her own +inspection. ``How absurd for him to imagine he could do anything +unconventional. Is there any coward anywhere so cowardly as an +American conventional man? No wonder I hate to think of marrying +one of them. But--I suppose I'll have to do it some day. What's +a woman to do? She's GOT to marry.'' + +So pleased with herself was she that she behaved with unusual +forbearance toward Martha whose conduct of late had been most +trying. Not Martha's sometimes peevish, sometimes plaintive +criticisms of her; these she did not mind. But Martha's way of +ordering her own life. Jane, moving about in the world with a +good mind eager to improve, had got a horror of a woman's going +to pieces--and that was what Martha was doing. + +``I'm losing my looks rapidly,'' was her constant complaint. As +she had just passed thirty there was, in Jane's opinion, not the +smallest excuse for this. The remedy, the preventive, was +obvious--diet and exercise. But Martha, being lazy and +self-indulgent and not imaginative enough to foresee to what a +pass a few years more of lounging and stuffing would bring her, +regarded exercise as unladylike and dieting as unhealthful. She +would not weaken her system by taking less than was demanded by +``nature's infallible guide, the healthy appetite.'' She would +not give up the venerable and aristocratic tradition that a lady +should ever be reposeful. + +``Another year or so,'' warned Jane, ``and you'll be as +steatopygous as the bride of a Hottentot chief.'' + +``What does steat--that word mean?'' said Martha suspiciously. + +``Look in the dictionary,'' said Jane. ``Its synonyms aren't +used by refined people.'' + +``I knew it was something insulting,'' said Martha with an +injured sniff. + +The only concessions Martha would make to the latter-day craze of +women for youthfulness were buying a foolish chin-strap of a +beauty quack and consulting him as to whether, if her hair +continued to gray, she would better take to peroxide or to henna. + +Jane had come down that day with a severe lecture on fat and +wrinkles laid out in her mind for energetic delivery to the +fast-seeding Martha. She put off the lecture and allowed the +time to be used by Martha in telling Jane what were her (Jane's) +strongest and less strong--not weaker but less strong, points of +physical charm. + +It was cool and beautiful in the shade of the big gardens behind +the old Galland house. Jane, listening to Martha's honest and +just compliments and to the faint murmurs of the city's dusty, +sweaty toil, had a delicious sense of the superiority of her +lot--a feeling that somehow there must be something in the theory +of rightfully superior and inferior classes--that in taking what +she had not earned she was not robbing those who had earned it, +as her reason so often asserted, but was being supported by the +toil of others for high purposes of aesthetic beauty. Anyhow, +why heat one's self wrestling with these problems? + +When she was sure that Victor Dorn must have returned she called +him on the telephone. ``Can't you come out to see me to-night?'' +said she. ``I've something important--something YOU'LL think +important-- to consult you about.'' She felt a refusal forming +at the other end of the wire and hastened to add: ``You must +know I'd not ask this if I weren't certain you would be glad you +came.'' + +``Why not drop in here when you're down town?'' suggested Victor. + +She wondered why she did not hang up the receiver and forget him. + +But she did not. She murmured, ``In due time I'll punish you for +this, sir,'' and said to him: ``There are reasons why it's +impossible for me to go there just now. And you know I can't +meet you in a saloon or on a street corner.'' + +``I'm not so sure of that,'' laughed he. ``Let me see. I'm very +busy. But I could come for half an hour this afternoon.'' + +She had planned an evening session, being well aware of the +favorable qualities of air and light after the matter-of-fact sun +has withdrawn his last rays. But she promptly decided to accept +what offered. ``At three?'' + +``At four,'' replied he. + +``You haven't forgotten those books?'' + +``Books? Oh, yes--yes, I remember. I'll bring them.'' + +``Thank you so much,'' said she sweetly. ``Good-by.'' + +And at four she was waiting for him on the front veranda in a +house dress that was--well, it was not quite the proper costume +for such an occasion, but no one else was to see, and he didn't +know about that sort of thing--and the gown gave her charms their +best possible exposure except evening dress, which was out of the +question. She had not long to wait. One of the clocks within +hearing had struck and another was just beginning to strike when +she saw him coming toward the house. She furtively watched him, +admiring his walk without quite knowing why. You may perhaps +know the walk that was Victor's--a steady forward advance of the +whole body held firmly, almost rigidly --the walk of a man +leading another to the scaffold, or of a man being led there in +conscious innocence, or of a man ready to go wherever his +purposes may order--ready to go without any heroics or fuss of +any kind, but simply in the course of the day's business. When a +man walks like that, he is worth observing-- and it is well to +think twice before obstructing his way. + +That steady, inevitable advance gave Jane Hastings an absurd +feeling of nervousness. She had an impulse to fly, as from some +oncoming danger. Yet what was coming, in fact? A clever young +man of the working class, dressed in garments of the kind his +class dressed in on Sunday, and plebeianly carrying a bundle +under his arm. + +``Our clock says you are three seconds late,'' cried she, +laughing and extending her hand in a friendly, equal way that +would have immensely flattered almost any man of her own class. +``But another protests that you are one second early.'' + +``I'm one of those fools who waste their time and their nerves by +being punctual,'' said he. + +He laid the books on the wicker sofa. But instead of sitting +Jane said: ``We might be interrupted here. Come to the west +veranda.'' + +There she had him in a leafy solitude--he facing her as she posed +in fascinating grace in a big chair. He looked at her--not the +look of a man at a woman, but the look of a busy person at one +who is about to show cause for having asked for a portion of his +valuable time. She laughed--and laughter was her best gesture. +``I can never talk to you if you pose like that,'' said she. +``Honestly now, is your time so pricelessly precious?'' + +He echoed her laugh and settled himself more at his ease. ``What +did you want of me?'' he asked. + +``I intend to try to get better hours and better wages for the +street car men,'' said she. ``To do it, I must know just what is +right--what I can hope to get. General talk is foolish. If I go +at father I must have definite proposals to make, with reasons +for them. I don't want him to evade. I would have gotten my +information elsewhere, but I could think of no one but you who +might not mislead me.'' + +She had confidently expected that this carefully thought out +scheme would do the trick. He would admire her, would be +interested, would be drawn into a position where she could enlist +him as a constant adviser. He moved toward the edge of his chair +as if about to rise. He said, pleasantly enough but without a +spark of enthusiasm: + +``That's very nice of you, Miss Hastings. But I can't advise +you--beyond saying that if I were you, I shouldn't meddle.'' + +She--that is, her vanity--was cut to the quick. ``Oh!'' said she +with irony, ``I fancied you wished the laboring men to have a +better sort of life.'' + +``Yes,'' said he. ``But I'm not in favor of running hysterically +about with a foolish little atomizer in the great stable. You +are talking charity. I am working for justice. It will not +really benefit the working man for the company, at the urging of +a sweet and lovely young Lady Bountiful, to deign graciously to +grant a little less slavery to them. In fact, a well fed, well +cared for slave is worse off than one who's badly treated --worse +off because farther from his freedom. The only things that do +our class any good, Miss Hastings, are the things they +COMPEL--compel by their increased intelligence and increased +unity and power. They get what they deserve. They won't deserve +more until they compel more. Gifts won't help--not even gifts +from--'' His intensely blue eyes danced--``from such charming +white hands so beautifully manicured.'' + +She rose with an angry toss of the head. ``I didn't ask you here +to annoy me with impertinences about my finger nails.'' + +He rose, at his ease, good-humored, ready to go. ``Then you +should have worn gloves,'' said he carelessly, ``for I've been +able to think only of your finger nails--and to wonder WHAT can +be done with hands like that. Thank you for a pleasant talk.'' +He bowed and smiled. ``Good-by. Oh--Miss Gordon sent you her +love.'' + +``What IS the matter, Mr. Dorn?'' cried the girl desperately. +``I want your friendship--your respect. CAN'T I get it? Am I +utterly hopeless in your eyes?'' + +A curious kind of color rose in his cheeks. His eyes regarded +her with a mysterious steadiness. ``You want neither my respect +nor my friendship,'' said he. ``You want to amuse yourself.'' +He pointed at her hands. ``Those nails betray you.'' He +shrugged his shoulders, laughed, said as if to a child: ``You +are a nice girl, Jane Hastings. It's a pity you weren't brought +up to be of some use. But you weren't--and it's too late.'' + +Her eyes flashed, her bosom heaved. ``WHY do I take these things +from you? WHY do I invite them?'' + +``Because you inherit your father's magnificent persistence--and +you've set your heart on the whim of making a fool of me--and you +hate to give up.'' + +``You wrong me--indeed you do,'' cried she. ``I want to learn--I +want to be of use in the world. I want to have some kind of a +real life.'' + +``Really?'' mocked he good-humoredly. + +``Really,'' said she with all her power of sweet earnestness. + +``Then--cut your nails and go to work. And when you have become +a genuine laborer, you'll begin to try to improve not the +condition of others, but your own. The way to help workers is to +abolish the idlers who hang like a millstone about their necks. +You can help only by abolishing the one idler under your +control.'' + +She stood nearer him, very near him. She threw out her lovely +arms in a gesture of humility. ``I will do whatever you say,'' +she said. + +They looked each into the other's eyes. The color fled from her +face, the blood poured into his--wave upon wave, until he was +like a man who has been set on fire by the furious heat of long +years of equatorial sun. He muttered, wheeled about and strode +away-- in resolute and relentless flight. She dropped down where +he had been sitting and hid her face in her perfumed hands. + +``I care for him,'' she moaned, ``and he saw and he despises me! +How COULD I--how COULD I!'' + +Nevertheless, within a quarter of an hour she was in her dressing +room, standing at the table, eyes carefully avoiding her mirrored +eyes--as she cut her finger nails. + + + +IV + + +Jane was mistaken in her guess at the cause of Victor Dorn's +agitation and abrupt flight. If he had any sense whatever of the +secret she had betrayed to him and to herself at the same instant +it was wholly unconscious. He had become panic-stricken and had +fled because he, faced with her exuberance and tempting wealth of +physical charm, had become suddenly conscious of her and of +himself in a way as new to him as if he had been fresh from a +monkery where no woman had ever been seen. Thus far the world +had been peopled for him with human beings without any reference +to sex. The phenomena of sex had not interested him because his +mind had been entirely taken up with the other aspects of life; +and he had not yet reached the stage of development where a +thinker grasps the truth that all questions are at bottom +questions of the sex relation, and that, therefore, no question +can be settled right until the sex relations are settled right. + +Jane Hastings was the first girl he had met in his whole life who +was in a position to awaken that side of his nature. And when +his brain suddenly filled with a torrent of mad longings and of +sensuous appreciations of her laces and silk, of her perfume and +smoothness and roundness, of the ecstasy that would come from +contact with those warm, rosy lips--when Victor Dorn found +himself all in a flash eager impetuosity to seize this woman whom +he did not approve of, whom he did not even like, he felt bowed +with shame. He would not have believed himself capable of such a +thing. He fled. + +He fled, but she pursued. And when he sat down in the garden +behind his mother's cottage, to work at a table where bees and +butterflies had been his only disturbers, there was this SHE +before him--her soft, shining gaze fascinating his gaze, her +useless but lovely white hands extended tantalizingly toward him. + +As he continued to look at her, his disapproval and dislike +melted. ``I was brutally harsh to her,'' he thought repentantly. + +``She was honestly trying to do the decent thing. How was she to +know? And wasn't I as much wrong as right in advising her not to +help the men?'' + +Beyond question, it was theoretically best for the two opposing +forces, capital and labor, to fight their battle to its +inevitable end without interference, without truce, with quarter +neither given nor taken on either side. But practically--wasn't +there something to be said for such humane proposals of that of +Jane Hastings? They would put off the day of right conditions +rightly and therefore permanently founded--conditions in which +master and slave or serf or wage-taker would be no more; but, on +the other hand, slaves with shorter hours of toil and better +surroundings could be enlightened more easily. Perhaps. He was +by no means sure; he could not but fear that anything that tended +to make the slave comfortable in his degradation must of +necessity weaken his aversion to degradation. Just as the worst +kings were the best kings because they hastened the fall of +monarchy, so the worst capitalists, the most rapacious, the most +rigid enforcers of the economic laws of a capitalistic society +were the best capitalists, were helping to hasten the day when +men would work for what they earned and would earn what they +worked for--when every man's pay envelope would contain his +wages, his full wages, and nothing but his wages. + +Still, where judgment was uncertain, he certainly had been unjust +to that well meaning girl. And was she really so worthless as he +had on first sight adjudged her? There might be exceptions to +the rule that a parasite born and bred can have no other +instructor or idea but those of parasitism. She was honest and +earnest, was eager to learn the truth. She might be put to some +use. At any rate he had been unworthy of his own ideals when he, +assuming without question that she was the usual capitalistic +snob with the itch for gratifying vanity by patronizing the +``poor dear lower classes,'' had been almost insultingly curt and +mocking. + +``What was the matter with me?'' he asked himself. ``I never +acted in that way before.'' And then he saw that his brusqueness +had been the cover for fear of of her--fear of the allure of her +luxury and her beauty. In love with her? He knew that he was +not. No, his feeling toward her was merely the crudest form of +the tribute of man to woman--though apparently woman as a rule +preferred this form to any other. + +``I owe her an apology,'' he said to himself. And so it came to +pass that at three the following afternoon he was once more +facing her in that creeper-walled seclusion whose soft lights +were almost equal to light of gloaming or moon or stars in +romantic charm. + +Said he--always direct and simple, whether dealing with man or +woman, with devious person or straight: + +``I've come to beg your pardon for what I said yesterday.'' + +``You certainly were wild and strange,'' laughed she. + +``I was supercilious,'' said he. ``And worse than that there is +not. However, as I have apologized, and you have accepted my +apology, we need waste no more time about that. You wished to +persuade your father to----'' + +``Just a moment!'' interrupted she. ``I've a question to ask. +WHY did you treat me--why have you been treating me so--so +harshly?'' + +``Because I was afraid of you,'' replied he. ``I did not realize +it, but that was the reason.'' + +``Afraid of ME,'' said she. ``That's very flattering.'' + +``No,'' said he, coloring. ``In some mysterious way I had been +betrayed into thinking of you as no man ought to think of a woman +unless he is in love with her and she with him. I am ashamed of +myself. But I shall conquer that feeling--or keep away from you. + +. . . Do you understand what the street car situation is?'' + +But she was not to be deflected from the main question, now that +it had been brought to the front so unexpectedly and in exactly +the way most favorable to her purposes. ``You've made me +uneasy,'' said she. ``I don't in the least understand what you +mean. I have wanted, and I still want, to be friends with +you--good friends--just as you and Selma Gordon are--though of +course I couldn't hope to be as close a friend as she is. I'm +too ignorant--too useless.'' + +He shook his head--with him, a gesture that conveyed the full +strength of negation. ``We are on opposite sides of a line +across which friendship is impossible. I could not be your +friend without being false to myself. You couldn't be mine +unless you were by some accident flung into the working class and +forced to adopt it as your own. Even then you'd probably remain +what you are. Only a small part of the working class as yet is +at heart of the working class. Most of us secretly--almost +openly--despise the life of work, and dream and hope a time of +fortune that will put us up among the masters and the idlers.'' +His expressive eyes became eloquent. ``The false and shallow +ideas that have been educated into us for ages can't be uprooted +in a few brief years.'' + +She felt the admiration she did not try to conceal. She saw the +proud and splendid conception of the dignity of labor--of labor +as a blessing, not a curse, as a badge of aristocracy and not of +slavery and shame. ``You really believe that, don't you?'' she +said. ``I know it's true. I say I believe it--who doesn't SAY +so? But I don't FEEL it.'' + +``That's honest,'' said he heartily. ``That's some thing to +build on.'' + +``And I'm going to build!'' cried she. ``You'll help me--won't +you? I know, it's a great deal to ask. Why should you take the +time and the trouble to bother with one single unimportant +person.'' + +``That's the way I spend my life--in adding one man or one woman +to our party--one at a time. It's slow building, but it's the +only kind that endures. There are twelve hundred of us +now--twelve hundred voters, I mean. Ten years ago there were +only three hundred. We'd expand much more rapidly if it weren't +for the constant shifts of population. Our men are forced to go +elsewhere as the pressure of capitalism gets too strong. And in +place of them come raw emigrants, ignorant, full of dreams of +becoming capitalists and exploiters of their fellow men and +idlers. Ambition they call it. Ambition!'' He laughed. ``What +a vulgar, what a cruel notion of rising in the world! To cease +to be useful, to become a burden to others! . . . Did you ever +think how many poor creatures have to toil longer hours, how many +children have to go to the factory instead of to school, in order +that there may be two hundred and seven automobiles privately +kept in this town and seventy-four chauffeurs doing nothing but +wait upon their masters? Money doesn't grow on bushes, you know. + +Every cent of it has to be earned by somebody--and earned by +MANUAL labor.'' + +``I must think about that,'' she said--for the first time as much +interested in what he was saying as in the man himself. No small +triumph for Victor over the mind of a woman dominated, as was +Jane Hastings, by the sex instinct that determines the thoughts +and actions of practically the entire female sex. + +``Yes--think about it,'' he urged. ``You will never see it--or +anything--until you see it for yourself.'' + +``That's the way your party is built--isn't it?'' inquired she. +``Of those who see it for themselves.'' + +``Only those,'' replied he. ``We want no others.'' + +``Not even their votes?'' said she shrewdly. + +``Not even their votes,'' he answered. ``We've no desire to get +the offices until we get them to keep. And when we shall have +conquered the city, we'll move on to the conquest of the +county--then of the district--then of the state. Our kind of +movement is building in every city now, and in most of the towns +and many of the villages. The old parties are falling to pieces +because they stand for the old politics of the two factions of +the upper class quarreling over which of them should superintend +the exploiting of the people. Very few of us realize what is +going on before our very eyes-- that we're seeing the death +agonies of one form of civilization and the birth-throes of a +newer form.'' + +``And what will it be?'' asked the girl. + +She had been waiting for some sign of the ``crank,'' the +impractical dreamer. She was confident that this question would +reveal the man she had been warned against--that in answering it +he would betray his true self. But he disappointed and surprised +her. + +``How can I tell what it will be?'' said he. ``I'm not a +prophet. All I can say is I am sure it will be human, full of +imperfections, full of opportunities for improvements--and that I +hope it will be better than what we have now. Probably not much +better, but a little--and that little, however small it may be, +will be a gain. Doesn't history show a slow but steady advance +of the idea that the world is for the people who live in it, a +slow retreat of the idea that the world and the people and all +its and their resources are for a favored few of some kind of an +upper class? Yes--I think it is reasonable to hope that out of +the throes will come a freer and a happier and a more intelligent +race.'' + +Suddenly she burst out, apparently irrelevantly: ``But I +can't--I really can't agree with you that everyone ought to do +physical labor. That would drag the world down--yes, I'm sure it +would.'' + +``I guess you haven't thought about that,'' said he. ``Painters +do physical labor--and sculptors--and writers-- and all the +scientific men--and the inventors-- and--'' He laughed at +her--``Who doesn't do physical labor that does anything really +useful? Why, you yourself--at tennis and riding and such +things--do heavy physical labor. I've only to look at your body +to see that. But it's of a foolish kind--foolish and narrowly +selfish.'' + +``I see I'd better not try to argue with you,'' said she. + +``No--don't argue--with me or with anybody,'' rejoined he. ``Sit +down quietly and think about life-- about your life. Think how +it is best to live so that you may get the most out of life--the +most substantial happiness. Don't go on doing the silly +customary things simply because a silly customary world says they +are amusing and worth while. Think--and do--for yourself, Jane +Hastings.'' + +She nodded slowly and thoughtfully. ``I'll try to,'' she said. +She looked at him with the expression of the mind aroused. It +was an expression that often rewarded him after a long straight +talk with a fellow being. She went on: ``I probably shan't do +what you'd approve. You see, I've got to be myself--got to live +to a certain extent the kind of a life fate has made for me.'' + +``You couldn't successfully live any other,'' said he. + +``But, while it won't be at all what you'd regard as a model +life--or even perhaps useful--it'll be very different--very much +better--than it would have been, if I hadn't met you--Victor +Dorn.'' + +``Oh, I've done nothing,'' said he. ``All I try to do is to +encourage my fellow beings to be themselves. So --live your own +life--the life you can live best--just as you wear the clothes +that fit and become you. . . . And now--about the street car +question. What do you want of me?'' + +``Tell me what to say to father.'' + +He shook his head. ``Can't do it,'' said he. ``There's a good +place for you to make a beginning. Put on an old dress and go +down town and get acquainted with the family life of the +street-car men. Talk to their wives and their children. Look +into the whole business yourself.'' + +``But I'm not--not competent to judge,'' objected she. + +``Well, make yourself competent,'' advised he. + +``I might get Miss Gordon to go with me,'' suggested she. + +``You'll learn more thoroughly if you go alone,'' declared he. + +She hesitated--ventured with a winning smile: ``You won't go +with me--just to get me started right?'' + +``No,'' said he. ``You've got to learn for yourself-- or not at +all. If I go with you, you'll get my point of view, and it will +take you so much the longer to get your own.'' + +``Perhaps you'd prefer I didn't go.'' + +``It's not a matter of much importance, one way or the +other--except perhaps to yourself,'' replied he. + +``Any one individual can do the human race little good by +learning the truth about life. The only benefit is to himself. +Don't forget that in your sweet enthusiasm for doing something +noble and generous and helpful. Don't become a Davy Hull. You +know, Davy is on earth for the benefit of the human race. Ever +since he was born he has been taken care of--supplied with food, +clothing, shelter, everything. Yet he imagines that he is +somehow a God-appointed guardian of the people who have gathered +and cooked his food, made his clothing, served him in every way. +It's very funny, that attitude of your class toward mine.'' + +``They look up to us,'' said Jane. ``You can't blame us for +allowing it--for becoming pleased with ourselves.'' + +``That's the worst of it--we do look up to you,'' admitted he. +``But--we're learning better.'' + +``YOU'VE already learned better--you personally, I mean. I think +that when you compare me, for instance, with a girl like Selma +Gordon, you look down on me.'' + +``Don't you, yourself, feel that any woman who is self-supporting +and free is your superior?'' + +``In some moods, I do,'' replied Jane. ``In other moods, I feel +as I was brought up to feel.'' + +They talked on and on, she detaining him without seeming to do +so. She felt proud of her adroitness. But the truth was that +his stopping on for nearly two hours was almost altogether a +tribute to her physical charm--though Victor was unconscious of +it. When the afternoon was drawing on toward the time for her +father to come, she reluctantly let him go. She said: + +``But you'll come again?'' + +``I can't do that,'' replied he regretfully. ``I could not come +to your father's house and continue free. I must be able to say +what I honestly think, without any restraint.'' + +``I understand,'' said she. ``And I want you to say and to write +what you believe to be true and right. But--we'll see each other +again. I'm sure we are going to be friends.'' + +His expression as he bade her good-by told her that she had won +his respect and his liking. She had a suspicion that she did not +deserve either; but she was full of good resolutions, and assured +herself she soon would be what she had pretended--that her +pretenses were not exactly false, only somewhat premature. + +At dinner that evening she said to her father: + +``I think I ought to do something beside enjoy myself. I've +decided to go down among the poor people and see whether I can't +help them in some way.'' + +``You'd better keep away from that part of town,'' advised her +father. ``They live awful dirty, and you might catch some +disease. If you want to do anything for the poor, send a check +to our minister or to the charity society. There's two kinds of +poor--those that are working hard and saving their money and +getting up out of the dirt, and those that haven't got no spunk +or get-up. The first kind don't need help, and the second don't +deserve it.'' + +``But there are the children, popsy,'' urged Jane. ``The +children of the no-account poor ought to have a chance.'' + +``I don't reckon there ever was a more shiftless, do-easy pair +than my father and mother,'' rejoined Martin Hastings. ``They +were what set me to jumping.'' + +She saw that his view was hopelessly narrow--that, while he +regarded himself justly as an extraordinary man, he also, for +purposes of prejudice and selfishness, regarded his own +achievements in overcoming what would have been hopeless +handicaps to any but a giant in character and in physical +endurance as an instance of what any one could do if he would but +work. She never argued with him when she wished to carry her +point. She now said: + +``It seems to me that, in our own interest, we ought to do what +we can to make the poor live better. As you say, it's positively +dangerous to go about in the tenement part of town--and those +people are always coming among us. For instance, our servants +have relatives living in Cooper Street, where there's a pest of +consumption.'' + +Old Hastings nodded. ``That's part of Davy Hull's reform +programme,'' said he. ``And I'm in favor of it. The city +government ought to make them people clean up.'' + +``Victor Dorn wants that done, too--doesn't he?'' said Jane. + +``No,'' replied the old man sourly. ``He says it's no use to +clean up the slums unless you raise wages--and that then the slum +people'd clean themselves up. The idea of giving those worthless +trash more money to spend for beer and whisky and finery for +their fool daughters. Why, they don't earn what we give 'em +now.'' + +Jane couldn't resist the temptation to say, ``I guess the laziest +of them earn more than Davy Hull or I.'' + +``Because some gets more than they earn ain't a reason why others +should.'' He grinned. ``Maybe you and Davy ought to have less, +but Victor Dorn and his riff-raff oughtn't to be pampered. . . . +Do you want me to cut your allowance down?'' + +She was ready for him. ``If you can get as satisfactory a +housekeeper for less, you're a fool to overpay the one you +have.'' + +The old man was delighted. ``I've been cheating you,'' said he. +``I'll double your pay.'' + +``You're doing it just in time to stop a strike,'' laughed the +girl. + +After a not unknown fashion she was most obedient to her father +when his commands happened to coincide with her own inclinations. + +Her ardor for an excursion into the slums and the tenements died +almost with Victor Dorn's departure. Her father's reasons for +forbidding her to go did not impress her as convincing, but she +felt that she owed it to him to respect his wishes. Anyhow, what +could she find out that she did not know already? Yes, Dorn and +her father were right in the conclusion each reached by a +different road. She would do well not to meddle where she could +not possibly accomplish any good. She could question the +servants and could get from them all the facts she needed for +urging her father at least to cut down the hours of labor. + +The more she thought about Victor Dorn the more uneasy she +became. She had made more progress with him than she had hoped +to make in so short a time. But she had made it at an unexpected +cost. If she had softened him, he had established a disquieting +influence over her. She was not sure, but she was afraid, that +he was stronger than she--that, if she persisted in her whim, she +would soon be liking him entirely too well for her own comfort. +Except as a pastime, Victor Dorn did not fit into her scheme of +life. If she continued to see him, to yield to the delight of +his magnetic voice, of his fresh and original mind, of his +energetic and dominating personality, might he not become +aroused--begin to assert power over her, compel her to--to--she +could not imagine what; only, it was foolish to deny that he was +a dangerous man. ``If I've got good sense,'' decided she, ``I'll +let him alone. I've nothing to gain and everything to lose.'' + +Her motor--the one her father had ordered as a birthday +present--came the next day; and on the following day two girl +friends from Cincinnati arrived for a long visit. So, Jane +Hastings had the help she felt she perhaps needed in resisting +the temptings of her whim. + +To aid her in giving her friends a good time she impressed Davy +Hull, in spite of his protests that his political work made +social fooling about impossible. The truth was that the reform +movement, of which he was one of the figureheads, was being +organized by far more skillful and expert hands than his--and for +purposes of which he had no notion. So, he really had all the +time in the world to look after Ellen Clearwater and Josie +Arthur, and to pose as a serious man bent upon doing his duty as +an upper class person of leisure. All that the reform machine +wished of him was to talk and to pose--and to ride on the show +seat of the pretty, new political wagon. + +The new movement had not yet been ``sprung'' upon the public. It +was still an open secret among the young men of the ``better +element'' in the Lincoln, the Jefferson and the University clubs. + +Money was being subscribed liberally by persons of good family +who hoped for political preferment and could not get it from the +old parties, and by corporations tired of being ``blackmailed'' +by Kelly and House, and desirous of getting into office men who +would give them what they wanted because it was for the public +good that they should not be hampered in any way. With plenty of +money an excellent machine could be built and set to running. +Also, there was talk of a fusion with the Democratic machine, +House to order the wholesale indorsement of the reform ticket in +exchange for a few minor places. + +When the excitement among the young gentlemen over the +approaching moral regeneration of Remsen City politics was at the +boiling point Victor Dorn sent for David Hull--asked him to come +to the Baker Avenue cafe', which was the social headquarters of +Dorn's Workingmen's League. As Hull was rather counting on +Dorn's support, or at least neutrality, in the approaching +contest, he accepted promptly. As he entered the cafe' he saw +Dorn seated at a table in a far corner listening calmly to a man +who was obviously angrily in earnest. At second glance he +recognized Tony Rivers, one of Dick Kelly's shrewdest lieutenants +and a labor leader of great influence in the unions of factory +workers. Among those in ``the know'' it was understood that +Rivers could come nearer to delivering the labor vote than any +man in Remsen City. He knew whom to corrupt with bribes and whom +to entrap by subtle appeals to ignorant prejudice. As a large +part of his herd was intensely Catholic, Rivers was a devout +Catholic. To quote his own phrase, used in a company on whose +discretion he could count, ``Many's the pair of pants I've worn +out doing the stations of the Cross.'' In fact, Rivers had been +brought up a Presbyterian, and under the name of Blake--his +correct name--had ``done a stretch'' in Joliet for picking +pockets. + +Dorn caught sight of Davy Hull, hanging uncertainly in the +offing. He rose at once, said a few words in a quiet, emphatic +way to Rivers--words of conclusion and dismissal--and advanced to +meet Hull. + +``I don't want to interrupt. I can wait,'' said Hull, who saw +Rivers' angry scowl at him. He did not wish to offend the great +labor leader. + +``That fellow pushed himself on me,'' said Dorn. ``I've nothing +to say to him.'' + +``Tony Rivers--wasn't it?'' said Davy as they seated themselves +at another table. + +``I'm going to expose him in next week's New Day,'' replied +Victor. ``When I sent him a copy of the article for his +corrections, if he could make any, he came threatening.'' + +``I've heard he's a dangerous man,'' said Davy. + +``He'll not be so dangerous after Saturday,'' replied Victor. +``One by one I'm putting the labor agents of your friends out of +business. The best ones--the chaps like Rivers--are hard to +catch. And if I should attack one of them before I had him dead +to rights, I'd only strengthen him.'' + +``You think you can destroy Rivers' influence?'' said Davy +incredulously. + +``If I were not sure of it I'd not publish a line,'' said Victor. + +``But to get to the subject I wish to talk to you about. You are +to be the reform candidate for Mayor in the fall?'' + +Davy looked important and self-conscious. ``There has been some +talk of----'' he began. + +``I've sent for you to ask you to withdraw from the movement, +Hull,'' interrupted Victor. + +Hull smiled. ``And I've come to ask you to support it,'' said +Hull. ``We'll win, anyhow. But I'd like to see all the forces +against corruption united in this campaign. I am even urging my +people to put one or two of your men on the ticket.'' + +``None of us would accept,'' said Victor. ``That isn't our kind +of politics. We'll take nothing until we get everything. . . . +What do you know about this movement you're lending your name +to?'' + +``I organized it,'' said Hull proudly. + +``Pardon me--Dick Kelly organized it,'' replied Victor. +``They're simply using you, Davy, to play their rotten game. +Kelly knew he was certain to be beaten this fall. He doesn't +care especially for that, because House and his gang are just as +much Kelly as Kelly himself. But he's alarmed about the +judgeship.'' + +Davy Hull reddened, though he tried hard to look indifferent. + +``He's given up hope of pulling through the scoundrel who's on +the bench now. He knows that our man would be elected, though +his tool had the support of the Republicans, the Democrats and +the new reform crowd.'' + +Dorn had been watching Hull's embarrassed face keenly. He now +said: ``You understand, I see, why Judge Freilig changed his +mind and decided that he must stop devoting himself to the public +and think of the welfare of his family and resume the practice of +the law?'' + +``Judge Freilig is an honorable gentleman,'' said Davy with much +dignity. ``I'm sorry, Dorn, that you listen to the lies of +demagogues.'' + +``If Freilig had persisted in running,'' said Victor, ``I should +have published the list of stocks and bonds of corporations +benefiting by his decisions that his brother and his father have +come into possession of during his two terms on the bench. Many +of our judges are simply mentally crooked. But Freilig is a +bribe taker. He probably believes his decisions are just. All +you fellows believe that upper-class rule is really best for the +people----'' + +``And so it is,'' said Davy. ``And you, an educated man, know +it.'' + +``I'll not argue that now,'' said Victor. ``As I was saying, +while Freilig decides for what he honestly thinks is right, he +also feels he is entitled to a share of the substantial benefits. + +Most of the judges, after serving the upper class faithfully for +years, retire to an old age of comparative poverty. Freilig +thinks that is foolish.'' + +``I suppose you agree with him,'' said Hull sarcastically. + +``I sympathize with him,'' said Victor. ``He retires with +reputation unstained and with plenty of money. If I should +publish the truth about him, would he lose a single one of his +friends? You know he wouldn't. That isn't the way the world is +run at present.'' + +``No doubt it would be run much better if your crowd were in +charge,'' sneered Hull. + +``On the contrary, much worse,'' replied Victor unruffled. ``But +we're educating ourselves so that, when our time comes, we'll not +do so badly.'' + +``You'll have plenty of time for education,'' said Davy. + +``Plenty,'' said Victor. ``But why are you angry? Because you +realize now that your reform candidate for judge is of Dick +Kelly's selecting?'' + +``Kelly didn't propose Hugo Galland,'' cried Davy hotly. ``I +proposed him myself.'' + +``Was his the first name you proposed?'' + +Something in Dorn's tone made Davy feel that it would be unwise +to yield to the impulse to tell a lie-- for the highly moral +purpose of silencing this agitator and demagogue. + +``You will remember,'' pursued Victor, ``that Galland was the +sixth or seventh name you proposed--and that Joe House rejected +the others. He did it, after consulting with Kelly. You +recall--don't you?--that every time you brought him a name he +took time to consider?'' + +``How do you know so much about all this?'' cried Davy, his tone +suggesting that Victor was wholly mistaken, but his manner +betraying that he knew Victor was right. + +``Oh, politicians are human,'' replied Dorn. ``And the human +race is loose-mouthed. I saw years ago that if I was to build my +party I must have full and accurate information as to all that +was going on. I made my plans accordingly.'' + +``Galland is an honest man--rich--above suspicion --above +corruption--an ideal candidate,'' said Davy. + +``He is a corporation owner, a corporation lawyer-- and a fool,'' +said Victor. ``As I've told you, all Dick Kelly's interest in +this fall's local election is that judgeship.'' + +``Galland is my man. I want to see him elected. If Kelly's for +Galland, so much the better. Then we're sure of electing him--of +getting the right sort of a man on the bench.'' + +``I'm not here to argue with you about politics, Davy,'' said +Victor. ``I brought you here because I like you--believe in your +honesty--and don't want to see you humiliated. I'm giving you a +chance to save yourself .'' + +``From what?'' inquired Hull, not so valiant as he pretended to +be. + +``From the ridicule and disgrace that will cover this reform +movement, if you persist in it.'' + +Hull burst out laughing. ``Of all the damned impudence!'' he +exclaimed. ``Dorn, I think you've gone crazy .'' + +``You can't irritate me, Hull. I've been giving you the benefit +of the doubt. I think you are falling into the commonest kind of +error--doing evil and winking at evil in order that a good end +may be gained. Now, listen. What are the things you reformers +are counting on to get you votes this fall'' + +Davy maintained a haughty silence. + +``The traction scandals, the gas scandals and the paving +scandals--isn't that it?'' + +``Of course,'' said Davy. + +``Then--why have the gas crowd, the traction crowd and the paving +crowd each contributed twenty-five thousand dollars to your +campaign fund?'' + +Hull stared at Victor Dorn in amazement. ``Who told you that +lie?'' he blustered. + +Dorn looked at him sadly. ``Then you knew? I hoped you didn't, +Hull. But--now that you're facing the situation squarely, don't +you see that you're being made a fool of? Would those people put +up for your election if they weren't SURE you and your crowd were +THEIR crowd?'' + +``They'll find out!'' cried Hull. + +``You'll find out, you mean,'' replied Victor. ``I see your +whole programme, Davy. They'll put you in, and they'll say, `Let +us alone and we'll make you governor of the State. Annoy us, and +you'll have no political future.' And you'll say to yourself, +`The wise thing for me to do is to wait until I'm governor before +I begin to serve the people. THEN I can really do something.' +And so, you'll be THEIR mayor--and afterward THEIR +governor--because they'll hold out another inducement. Anyhow, +by that time you'll be so completely theirs that you'll have no +hope of a career except through them.'' + +After reading how some famous oration wrought upon its audience +we turn to it and wonder that such tempests of emotion could have +been produced by such simple, perhaps almost commonplace words. +The key to the mystery is usually a magic quality in the tone of +the orator, evoking before its hypnotized hearers a series of +vivid pictures, just as the notes of a violin, with no aid from +words or even from musical form seem to materialize into visions. + +This uncommon yet by no means rare power was in Victor Dorn's +voice, and explained his extraordinary influence over people of +all kinds and classes; it wove a spell that enmeshed even those +who disliked him for his detestable views. Davy Hull, listening +to Victor's simple recital of his prospective career, was so +wrought upon that he sat staring before him in a kind of terror. + +``Davy,'' said Victor gently, ``you're at the parting of the +ways. The time for honest halfway reformers-- for political +amateurs has passed. `Under which king, Bezonian? Speak or +die!'--that's the situation today.'' + +And Hull knew that it was so. ``What do you propose, Dorn?'' he +said. ``I want to do what's right-- what's best for the +people.'' + +``Don't worry about the people, Hull,'' said Victor. + +``Upper classes come and pass, but the people remain-- bigger and +stronger and more aggressive with every century. And they +dictate language and art, and politics and religion--what we +shall all eat and wear and think and do. Only what they approve, +only that yoke even which they themselves accept, has any chance +of enduring. Don't worry about the people, Davy. Worry about +yourself.'' + +``I admit,'' said Hull, ``that I don't like a lot of things about +the--the forces I find I've got to use in order to carry through +my plans. I admit that even the sincere young fellows I've +grouped together to head this movement are +narrow--supercilious--self-satisfied --that they irritate me and +are not trustworthy. But I feel that, if I once get the office, +I'll be strong enough to put my plans through.'' Nervously, +``I'm giving you my full confidence--as I've given it to no one +else.'' + +``You've told me nothing I didn't know already,'' said Victor. + +``I've got to choose between this reform party and your party,'' +continued Hull. ``That is, I've got no choice. For, candidly, +I've no confidence in the working class. It's too ignorant to do +the ruling. It's too credulous to build on--for its credulity +makes it fickle. And I believe in the better class, too. It may +be sordid and greedy and tyrannical, but by appealing to its good +instincts--and to its fear of the money kings and the +monopolists, something good can be got through it.'' + +``If you want to get office,'' said Dorn, ``you're right. But if +you want to BE somebody, if you want to develop yourself, to have +the joy of being utterly unafraid in speech and in action--why, +come with us.'' + +After a pause Hull said, ``I'd like to do it. I'd like to help +you.'' + +Victor laid his hand on Davy's arm. ``Get it straight, Davy,'' +he said. ``You can't help us. We don't need you. It's you that +needs us. We'll make an honest man of you--instead of a trimming +politician, trying to say or to do something more or less honest +once in a while and winking at or abetting crookedness most of +the time.'' + +``I've done nothing, and I'll do nothing, to be ashamed of,'' +protested Hull. + +``You are not ashamed of the way your movement is financed?'' + +Davy moved uncomfortably. ``The money's ours now,'' said he. +``They gave it unconditionally.'' + +But he could not meet Victor's eyes. Victor said: ``They paid a +hundred thousand dollars for a judgeship and for a blanket +mortgage on your party. And if you should win, you'd find you +could do little showy things that were of no value, but nothing +that would seriously disturb a single leech sucking the blood of +this community.'' + +``I don't agree with you,'' said Davy. He roused himself into +anger--his only remaining refuge. ``Your prejudices blind you to +all the means--the PRACTICAL means--of doing good, Dorn. I've +listened patiently to you because I respect your sincerity. But +I'm not going to waste my life in mere criticism. I'm going to +DO something.'' + +An expression of profound sadness came into Victor's face. +``Don't decide now,'' he said. ``Think it over. Remember what +I've told you about what we'll be compelled to do if you launch +this party.'' + +Hull was tempted to burst out violently. Was not this +swollen-headed upstart trying to intimidate him by threats? But +his strong instinct for prudence persuaded him to conceal his +resentment. ``Why the devil should you attack US?'' he demanded. + +``Surely we're nearer your kind of thing than the old +parties--and we, too, are against them--their rotten machines.'' + +``We purpose to keep the issue clear in this town,'' replied +Victor. ``So, we can't allow a party to grow up that PRETENDS to +be just as good as ours but is really a cover behind which the +old parties we've been battering to pieces can reorganize.'' + +``That is, you'll tolerate in this market no brand of honest +politics but your own?'' + +``If you wish to put it that way,'' replied Victor coolly. + +``I suppose you'd rather see Kelly or House win?'' + +``We'll see that House does win,'' replied Victor. ``When we +have shot your movement full of holes and sunk it, House will put +up a straight Democratic ticket, and it will win.'' + +``And House means Kelly--and Kelly means corruption rampant.'' + +``And corruption rampant means further and much needed education +in the school of hard experience for the voters,'' said Dorn. +``And the more education, the larger our party and the quicker +its triumph.'' + +Hull laughed angrily. ``Talk about low self-seeking! Talk about +rotten practical politics!'' + +But Dorn held his good humor of the man who has the power and +knows it. ``Think it over, Davy,'' counseled he. ``You'll see +you've got to come with us or join Kelly. For your own sake I'd +like to see you with us. For the party's sake you'd better be +with Kelly, for you're not really a workingman, and our fellows +would be uneasy about you for a long time. You see, we've had +experience of rich young men whose hearts beat for the wrongs of +the working class--and that experience has not been fortunate.'' + +``Before you definitely decide to break with the decent element +of the better class, Victor, I want YOU to think it over,'' said +Davy. ``We--I, myself--have befriended you more than once. But +for a few of us who still have hope that demagoguery will die of +itself, your paper would have been suppressed long ago.'' + +Victor laughed. ``I wish they would suppress it,'' said he. +``The result would give the `better element' in this town a very +bad quarter of an hour, at least.'' He rose. ``We've both said +all we've got to say to each other. I see I've done no good. I +feared it would be so.'' He was looking into Hull's eyes--into +his very soul. ``When we meet again, you will probably be my +open and bitter enemy. It's a pity. It makes me sad. Good-by, +and--do think it over, Davy.'' + +Dorn moved rapidly away. Hull looked after him in surprise. At +first blush he was astonished that Dorn should care so much about +him as this curious interview and his emotion at its end +indicated. But on reflecting his astonishment disappeared, and +he took the view that Dorn was simply impressed by his +personality and by his ability--was perhaps craftily trying to +disarm him and to destroy his political movement which was +threatening to destroy the Workingmen's League. ``A very shrewd +chap is Dorn,'' thought Davy--why do we always generously concede +at least acumen to those we suspect of having a good opinion of +us?--``A VERY shrewd chap. It's unfortunate he's cursed with +that miserable envy of those better born and better off than he +is.'' + +Davy spent the early evening at the University Club, where he was +an important figure. Later on he went to a dance at Mrs. +Venable's--and there he was indeed a lion, as an unmarried man +with money cannot but be in a company of ladies--for money to a +lady is what soil and sun and rain are to a flower--is that +without which she must cease to exist. But still later, when he +was alone in bed--perhaps with the supper he ate at Mrs. +Venable's not sitting as lightly as comfort required--the things +Victor Dorn had said came trailing drearily through his mind. +What kind of an article would Dorn print? Those facts about the +campaign fund certainly would look badly in cold type--especially +if Dorn had the proofs. And Hugo Galland-- Beyond question the +mere list of the corporations in which Hugo was director or large +stockholder would make him absurd as a judge, sitting in that +district. And Hugo the son-in-law of the most offensive +capitalist in that section of the State! And the deal with +House, endorsed by Kelly--how nasty that would look, IF Victor +had the proofs. IF Victor had the proofs. But had he? + +``I MUST have a talk with Kelly,'' said Davy, aloud. + +The words startled him--not his voice suddenly sounding in the +profound stillness of his bedroom, but the words themselves. It +was his first admission to himself of the vicious truth he had +known from the outset and had been pretending to himself that he +did not know--the truth that his reform movement was a fraud +contrived by Dick Kelly to further the interests of the company +of financiers and the gang of politico- criminal thugs who owned +the party machinery. It is a nice question whether a man is ever +allowed to go in HONEST self-deception decisively far along a +wrong road. However this may be, certain it is that David Hull, +reformer, was not so allowed. And he was glad of the darkness +that hid him at least physically from himself as he strove to +convince himself that, if he was doing wrong, it was from the +highest motives and for the noblest purposes and would result in +the public good-- and not merely in fame and office for David +Hull. + +The struggle ended as struggles usually end in the famous arena +of moral sham battles called conscience; and toward the middle of +the following morning Davy, at peace with himself and prepared to +make any sacrifice of personal squeamishness or moral idealism +for the sake of the public good, sought out Dick Kelly. + +Kelly's original headquarters had, of course, been the doggery in +and through which he had established himself as a political +power. As his power grew and his relations with more respectable +elements of society extended he shifted to a saloon and beer +garden kept by a reputable German and frequented by all kinds of +people--a place where his friends of the avowedly criminal class +and his newer friends of the class that does nothing legally +criminal, except in emergencies, would feel equally at ease. He +retained ownership of the doggery, but took his name down and put +up that of his barkeeper. When he won his first big political +fight and took charge of the public affairs of Remsen City and +made an arrangement with Joe House where-- under Remsen City, +whenever it wearied or sickened of Kelly, could take instead +Kelly disguised as Joe House --when he thus became a full blown +boss he established a secondary headquarters in addition to that +at Herrmann's Garden. Every morning at ten o'clock he took his +stand in the main corridor of the City Hall, really a +thoroughfare and short cut for the busiest part of town. With a +cigar in his mouth he stood there for an hour or so, holding +court, making appointments, attending to all sorts of political +business. + +Presently his importance and his ideas of etiquette expanded to +such an extent that he had to establish the Blaine Club. Joe +House's Tilden Club was established two years later, in imitation +of Kelly. If you had very private and important business with +Kelly-- business of the kind of which the public must get no +inkling, you made--preferably by telephone--an appointment to +meet him in his real estate offices in the Hastings Building--a +suite with entrances and exits into three separated corridors. +If you wished to see him about ordinary matters and were a person +who could ``confer'' with Kelly without its causing talk you met +him at the Blaine Club. If you wished to cultivate him, to pay +court to him, you saw him at Herrmann's--or in the general rooms +of the club. If you were a busy man and had time only to +exchange greetings with him--to ``keep in touch''--you passed +through the City Hall now and then at his hour. Some bosses soon +grow too proud for the vulgar democracy of such a public stand; +but Kelly, partly through shrewdness, partly through inclination, +clung to the City Hall stand and encouraged the humblest citizens +to seek him there and tell him the news or ask his aid or his +advice. + +It was at the City Hall that Davy Hull sought him, and found him. + +Twice he walked briskly to the boss; the third time he went by +slowly. Kelly, who saw everything, had known from the first +glance at Hull's grave, anxious face, that the young leader of +the ``holy boys'' was there to see him. But he ignored Davy +until Davy addressed him directly. + +``Howdy, Mr. Hull!'' said he, observing the young man with eyes +that twinkled cynically. ``What's the good word?'' + +``I want to have a little talk with you,'' Davy blurted out. +``Where could I see you?'' + +``Here I am,'' said Kelly. ``Talk away.'' + +``Couldn't I see you at some--some place where we'd not be +interrupted? I saw Victor Dorn yesterday, and he said some +things that I think you ought to know about.'' + +``I do know about 'em,'' replied Kelly. + +``Are you sure? I mean his threats to--to----'' + +As Davy paused in an embarrassed search for a word that would not +hurt his own but recently soothed conscience, Kelly laughed. +``To expose you holy boys?'' inquired he. ``To upset the nice +moral campaign you and Joe House have laid out? Yes, I know all +about Mr. Victor Dorn. But--Joe House is the man you want to +see. You boys are trying to do me up--trying to break up the +party. You can't expect ME to help you. I've got great respect +for you personally, Mr. Hull. Your father--he was a fine old +Republican wheel-horse. He stood by the party through thick and +thin--and the party stood by him. So, I respect his +son--personally. But politically-- that's another matter. +Politically I respect straight organization men of either party, +but I've got no use for amateurs and reformers. So--go to Joe +House.'' All this in perfect good humor, and in a tone of banter +that might have ruffled a man with a keener sense of humor than +Davy's. + +Davy was red to his eyes, not because Kelly was laughing at him, +but because he stood convicted of such a stupid political blunder +as coming direct to Kelly when obviously he should have gone to +Kelly's secret partner. ``Dorn means to attack us +all--Republicans, Democrats and Citizens' Alliance,'' stammered +Davy, trying to justify himself. + +Kelly shifted his cigar and shrugged his shoulders. + +``Don't worry about his attacks on me--on US,'' said he. ``We're +used to being attacked. We haven't got no reputation for +superior virtue to lose.'' + +``But he says he can prove that our whole campaign is simply a +deal between you and House and me to fool the people and elect a +bad judge.'' + +``So I've heard,'' said Kelly. ``But what of it? You know it +ain't so.'' + +``No, I don't, Mr. Kelly,'' replied Hull, desperately. ``On the +contrary, I think it is so. And I may add I think we are +justified in making such a deal, when that's the only way to save +the community from Victor Dorn and his crowd of--of anarchists.'' + +Kelly looked at him silently with amused eyes. + +``House can't do anything,'' pursued Davy. ``Maybe YOU can. So +I came straight to you.'' + +``I'm glad you're getting a little political sense, my boy,'' +said Kelly. ``Perhaps you're beginning to see that a politician +has got to be practical--that it's the organizations that keeps +this city from being the prey to Victor Dorns.'' + +``I see that,'' said Davy. ``I'm willing to admit that I've +misjudged you, Mr. Kelly--that the better classes owe you a heavy +debt--and that you are one of the men we've got to rely on +chiefly to stem the tide of anarchy that's rising--the attack on +the propertied classes--the intelligent classes.'' + +``I see your eyes are being opened, my boy,'' said Kelly in a +kindly tone that showed how deeply he appreciated this unexpected +recognition of his own notion of his mission. ``You young silk +stocking fellows up at the University Club, and the Lincoln and +the Jefferson, have been indulging in a lot of loose talk against +the fellows that do the hard work in politics--the fellows that +helped your fathers to make fortunes and that are helping you +boys to keep 'em. If I didn't have a pretty level head on me, +I'd take my hands off and give Dorn and his gang a chance at you. + +I tell you, when you fool with that reform nonsense, you play +with fire in a powder mill.'' + +``But I--I had an idea that you wanted me to go ahead,'' said +Davy. + +``Not the way you started last spring,'' replied Kelly. ``Not the +way you'd 'a gone if I hadn't taken hold. I've been saving you +in spite of yourselves. Thanks to me, your party's on a sound, +conservative basis and won't do any harm and may do some good in +teaching a lesson to those of our boys that've been going a +little too far. It ain't good for an organization to win +always.'' + +``Victor Dorn seemed to be sure--absolutely sure,'' said Hull. +``And he's pretty shrewd at politics-- isn't he?'' + +``Don't worry about him, I tell you,'' replied Kelly. + +The sudden hardening of his voice and of his never notably soft +face was tribute stronger than any words to Dorn's ability as a +politician, to his power as an antagonist. Davy felt a sinister +intent--and he knew that Dick Kelly had risen because he would +stop at nothing. He was as eager to get away from the boss as +the boss was to be rid of him. The intrusion of a henchman, to +whom Kelly had no doubt signaled, gave him the excuse. As soon +as he had turned from the City Hall into Morton Street he +slackened to as slow a walk as his length of leg would permit. +Moving along, absorbed in uncomfortable thoughts, he startled +violently when he heard Selma Gordon's voice: + +``How d'you do, Mr. Hull? I was hoping I'd see you to-day.'' + +She was standing before him--the same fascinating embodiment of +life and health and untamed energy; the direct, honest glance. + +``I want to talk to you,'' she went on, ``and I can't, walking +beside you. You're far too tall. Come into the park and we'll +sit on that bench under the big maple.'' + +He had mechanically lifted his hat, but he had not spoken. He +did not find words until they were seated side by side, and then +all he could say was: + +``I'm very glad to see you again--very glad, indeed.'' + +In fact, he was the reverse of glad, for he was afraid of her, +afraid of himself when under the spell of her presence. He who +prided himself on his self-control, he could not account for the +effect this girl had upon him. As he sat there beside her the +impulse Jane Hastings had so adroitly checked came surging back. +He had believed, had hoped it was gone for good and all. He +found that in its mysterious hiding place it had been gaining +strength. Quite clearly he saw how absurd was the idea of making +this girl his wife--he tall and she not much above the bend of +his elbow; he conventional, and she the incarnation of passionate +revolt against the restraints of class and form and custom which +he not only conformed to but religiously believed in. And she +set stirring in him all kinds of vague, wild longings to run +amuck socially and politically--longings that, if indulged, would +ruin him for any career worthy of the name. + +He stood up. ``I must go--I really must,'' he said, confusedly. + +She laid her small, strong hand on his arm--a natural, friendly +gesture with her, and giving no suggestion of familiarity. Even +as she was saying, ``Please--only a moment,'' he dropped back to +the seat. + +``Well--what is it?'' he said abruptly, his gaze resolutely away +from her face. + +``Victor was telling me this morning about his talk with you,'' +she said in her rapid, energetic way. ``He was depressed because +he had failed. But I felt sure-- I feel sure--that he hasn't. +In our talk the other day, Mr. Hull, I got a clear idea of your +character. A woman understands better. And I know that, after +Victor told you the plain truth about the situation, you couldn't +go on.'' + +David looked round rather wildly, swallowed hard several times, +said hoarsely: ``I won't, if you'll marry me.'' + +But for a slight change of expression or of color Davy would have +thought she had not heard--or perhaps that he had imagined he was +uttering the words that forced themselves to his lips in spite of +his efforts to suppress them. For she went on in the same +impetuous, friendly way: + +``It seemed to me that you have an instinct for the right that's +unusual in men of your class. At least, I think it's unusual. I +confess I've not known any man of your class except you--and I +know you very slightly. It was I that persuaded Victor to go to +you. He believes that a man's class feeling controls him-- makes +his moral sense--compels his actions. But I thought you were an +exception--and he yielded after I urged him a while.'' + +``I don't know WHAT I am,'' said Hull gloomily. ``I think I want +to do right. But--what is right? Not theoretical right, but the +practical, workable thing?'' + +``That's true,'' conceded Selma. ``We can't always be certain +what's right. But can't we always know what's wrong? And, Mr. +Hull, it is wrong--altogether wrong--and YOU know it's wrong--to +lend your name and your influence and your reputation to that +crowd. They'd let you do a little good--why? To make their +professions of reform seem plausible. To fool the people into +trusting them again. And under cover of the little good you were +showily doing, how much mischief they'd do! If you'll go back +over the history of this town--of any town--of any +country--you'll find that most of the wicked things--the things +that pile the burdens on the shoulders of the poor--the masses-- +most of the wicked things have been done under cover of just such +men as you, used as figureheads.'' + +``But I want to build up a new party--a party of honest men, +honestly led,'' said Davy. + +``Led by your sort of young men? I mean young men of your class. + +Led by young lawyers and merchants and young fellows living on +inherited incomes? Don't you see that's impossible,'' cried +Selma. ``They are all living off the labor of others. Their +whole idea of life is exploiting the masses--is reaping where +they have not sown or reaping not only what they've sown but also +what others have sown--for they couldn't buy luxury and all the +so-called refinements of life for themselves and their idle +families merely with what they themselves could earn. How can +you build up a really HONEST party with such men? They may mean +well. They no doubt are honest, up to a certain point. But they +will side with their class, in every crisis. And their class is +the exploiting class.'' + +``I don't agree with you,'' said Davy. ``You are not fair to +us.'' + +``How!'' demanded Selma. + +``I couldn't argue with you,'' replied Hull. ``All I'll say is +that you've seen only the one side--only the side of the working +class.'' + +``That toils without ceasing--its men, its women, its +children--'' said the girl with heaving bosom and flashing +eyes--``only to have most of what it earns filched away from it +by your class to waste in foolish luxury!'' + +``And whose fault is that?'' pleaded Hull. + +``The fault of my class,'' replied she. ``Their ignorance, their +stupidity--yes, and their foolish cunning that overreaches +itself. For they tolerate the abuses of the present system +because each man--at least, each man of the ones who think +themselves `smart'--imagines that the day is coming when he can +escape from the working class and gain the ranks of the +despoilers.'' + +``And you ask ME to come into the party of those people!'' +scoffed Davy. + +``Yes, Mr. Hull,'' said she--and until then he had not +appreciated how lovely her voice was. ``Yes--that is the party +for you--for all honest, sincere men who want to have their own +respect through and through. To teach those people--to lead them +right--to be truthful and just with them--that is the life worth +while.'' + +``But they won't learn. They won't be led right. They are as +ungrateful as they are foolish. If they weren't, men like me +trying to make a decent career wouldn't have to compromise with +the Kellys and the Houses and their masters. What are Kelly and +House but leaders of your class? And they lead ten to Victor +Dorn's one. Why, any day Dorn's followers may turn on him--and +you know it.'' + +``And what of that?'' cried Selma. ``He's not working to be +their leader, but to do what he thinks is right, regardless of +consequences. Why is he a happy man, as happiness goes? Why has +he gone on his way steadily all these years, never minding +setbacks and failures and defeats and dangers? I needn't tell +you why.'' + +``No,'' said Hull, powerfully moved by her earnestness. ``I +understand.'' + +``The finest sentence that ever fell from human lips,'' Selma +went on, ``was `Father, forgive them; they know not what they +do.' Forgive them--forgive us all-- for when we go astray it is +because we are in the dark. And I want you to come with us, Mr. +Hull, and help to make it a little less dark. At least, you will +then be looking toward the light--and every one turned in that +direction counts.'' + +After a long pause, Hull said: + +``Miss Gordon, may I ask you a very personal question?'' + +``Yes,'' said she. + +``Are you in love with Victor Dorn?'' + +Selma laughed merrily. ``Jane Hastings had that same +curiosity,'' said she. ``I'll answer you as I answered +her--though she didn't ask me quite so directly. No, I am not in +love with him. We are too busy to bother about those things. We +have too much to do to think about ourselves.'' + +``Then--there is no reason why I should not ask you to be my +wife--why I should not hope--and try?'' + +She looked at him with a peculiar smile. ``Yes, there is a very +good reason. I do not love you, and I shall not love you. I +shall not have time for that sort of thing.'' + +``Don't you believe in love?'' + +``I don't believe in much else,'' said she. ``But--not the kind +of love you offer me.'' + +``How do you know?'' cried he. ``I have not told you yet how I +feel toward you. I have not----'' + +``Oh, yes, you have,'' interrupted she. ``This is the +second--no, the third time you have seen me. So, the love you +offer me can only be of a kind it is not in the least flattering +to a woman to inspire. You needn't apologize,'' she went on, +laughingly. ``I've no doubt you mean well. You simply don't +understand me--my sort of woman.'' + +``It's you that don't understand, Selma,'' cried he. ``You don't +realize how wonderful you are--how much you reveal of yourself at +once. I was all but engaged to another woman when I saw you. +I've been fighting against my love for you--fighting against the +truth that suddenly came to me that you were the only woman I had +ever seen who appealed to and aroused and made strong all that is +brave and honest in me. Selma, I need you. I am not infatuated. + +I am clearer- headed than I ever was in my life. I need you. +You can make a man of me.'' + +She was regarding him with a friendly and even tender sympathy. +``I understand now,'' she said. ``I thought it was simply the +ordinary outburst of passion. But I see that it was the result +of your struggle with yourself about which road to take in making +a career.'' + +If she had not been absorbed in developing her theory she might +have seen that Davy was not altogether satisfied with this +analysis of his feelings. But he deemed it wise to hold his +peace. + +``You do need some one--some woman,'' she went on. ``And I am +anxious to help you all I can. I couldn't help you by marrying +you. To me marriage means----'' She checked herself abruptly. +``No matter. I can help you, I think, as a friend. But if you +wish to marry, you should take some one in your own class-- some +one who's in sympathy with you. Then you and she could work it +out together--could help each other. You see, I don't need +you--and there's nothing in one- sided marriages. . . . No, you +couldn't give me anything I need, so far as I can see.'' + +``I believe that's true,'' said Davy miserably. + +She reflected, then continued: ``But there's Jane Hastings. Why +not marry her? She is having the same sort of struggle with +herself. You and she could help each other. And you're, both of +you, fine characters. I like each of you for exactly the same +reasons. . . . Yes--Jane needs you, and you need her.'' She +looked at him with her sweet, frank smile like a breeze straight +from the sweep of a vast plateau. ``Why, it's so obvious that I +wonder you and she haven't become engaged long ago. You ARE fond +of her, aren't you?'' + +``Oh, Selma,'' cried Davy, ``I LOVE you. I want YOU.'' + +She shook her head with a quaint, fascinating expression of +positiveness. ``Now, my friend,'' said she, ``drop that fancy. +It isn't sensible. And it threatens to become silly.'' Her +smile suddenly expanded into a laugh. ``The idea of you and me +married--of ME married to YOU! I'd drive you crazy. No, I +shouldn't stay long enough for that. I'd be of on the wings of +the wind to the other end of the earth as soon as you tried to +put a halter on me.'' + +He did not join in her laugh. She rose. ``You will think again +before you go in with those people--won't you, David?'' she said, +sober and earnest. + +``I don't care what becomes of me,'' he said boyishly. + +``But _I_ do,'' she said. ``I want to see you the man you can +be.'' + +``Then--marry me,'' he cried. + +Her eyes looked gentle friendship; her passionate lips curled in +scorn. ``I might marry the sort of man you could be,'' she said, +``but I never could marry a man so weak that, without me to +bolster him up, he'd become a stool-pigeon.'' + +And she turned and walked away. + + + +V. + + +A few days later, after she had taken her daily two hours' walk, +Selma went into the secluded part of Washington Park and spent +the rest of the morning writing. Her walk was her habitual time +for thinking out her plans for the day. And when it was writing +that she had to do, and the weather was fine, that particular +hillside with its splendid shade so restful for the eyes and so +stimulating to the mind became her work-shop. She thought that +she was helped as much by the colors of grass and foliage as by +the softened light and the tranquil view out over hills and +valleys. + +When she had finished her article she consulted the little nickel +watch she carried in her bag and discovered that it was only one +o'clock. She had counted on getting through at three or half +past. Two hours gained. How could she best use them. The part +of the Park where she was sitting was separated from the Hastings +grounds only by the winding highroad making its last reach for +the top of the hill. She decided that she would go to see Jane +Hastings--would try to make tactful progress in her project of +helping Jane and David Hull by marrying them to each other. Once +she had hit upon this project her interest in both of them had +equally increased. Yes, these gained two hours was an +opportunity not to be neglected. + +She put her papers into her shopping bag and went straight up the +steep hill. She arrived at the top, at the edge of the lawn +before Jane's house, with somewhat heightened color and +brightened eyes, but with no quickening of the breath. Her slim, +solid little body had all the qualities of endurance of those +wiry ponies that come from the regions her face and walk and the +careless grace of her hair so delightfully suggested. As she +advanced toward the house she saw a gay company assembled on the +wide veranda. Jane was giving a farewell luncheon for her +visitors, had asked almost a dozen of the most presentable girls +in the town. It was a very fashionable affair, and everyone had +dressed for it in the best she had to wear at that time of day. + +Selma saw the company while there was still time for her to draw +back and descend into the woods. But she knew little about +conventionalities, and she cared not at all about them. She had +come to see Jane; she conducted herself precisely as she would +have expected any one to act who came to see her at any time. +She marched straight across the lawn. The hostess, the +fashionable visitors, the fashionable guests soon centered upon +the extraordinary figure moving toward them under that blazing +sun. The figure was extraordinary not for dress--the dress was +plain and unconspicuous--but for that expression of the free and +the untamed, the lack of self-consciousness so rarely seen except +in children and animals. Jane rushed to the steps to welcome +her, seized her extended hands and kissed her with as much +enthusiasm as she kissed Jane. There was sincerity in this +greeting of Jane's; but there was pose, also. Here was one of +those chances to do the unconventional, the democratic thing. + +``What a glorious surprise!'' cried Jane. ``You'll stop for +lunch, of course?'' Then to the girls nearest them: ``This is +Selma Gordon, who writes for the New Day.'' + +Pronouncing of names--smiles--bows--veiled glances of +curiosity--several young women exchanging whispered comments of +amusement. And to be sure, Selma, in that simple costume, +gloveless, with dusty shoes and blown hair, did look very much +out of place. But then Selma would have looked, in a sense, out +of place anywhere but in a wilderness with perhaps a few tents +and a half-tamed herd as background. In another sense, she +seemed in place anywhere as any natural object must. + +``I don't eat lunch,'' said Selma. ``But I'll stay if you'll put +me next to you and let me talk to you.'' + +She did not realize what an upsetting of order and precedence +this request, which seemed so simple to her, involved. Jane +hesitated, but only for a fraction of a second. ``Why, +certainly,'' said she. ``Now that I've got you I'd not let you +go in any circumstances.'' + +Selma was gazing around at the other girls with the frank and +pleased curiosity of a child. ``Gracious, what pretty clothes!'' +she cried--she was addressing Miss Clearwater, of Cincinnati. +``I've read about this sort of thing in novels and in society +columns of newspapers. But I never saw it before. ISN'T it +interesting!'' + +Miss Clearwater, whose father was a United States Senator--by +purchase--had had experience of many oddities, male and female. +She also was attracted by Selma's sparkling delight, and by the +magnetic charm which she irradiated as a rose its perfume. +``Pretty clothes are attractive, aren't they?'' said she, to be +saying something. + +``I don't know a thing about clothes,'' confessed Selma. ``I've +never owned at the same time more than two dresses fit to +wear--usually only one. And quite enough for me. I'd only be +fretted by a lot of things of that kind. But I like to see them +on other people. If I had my way the whole world would be well +dressed.'' + +``Except you?'' said Ellen Clearwater with a smile. + +``I couldn't be well dressed if I tried,'' replied Selma. ``When +I was a child I was the despair of my mother. Most of the people +in the tenement where we lived were very dirty and +disorderly--naturally enough, as they had no knowledge and no +money and no time. But mother had ideas of neatness and +cleanliness, and she used to try to keep me looking decent. But +it was of no use. Ten minutes after she had smoothed me down I +was flying every which way again.'' + +``You were brought up in a tenement?'' said Miss Clearwater. +Several of the girls within hearing were blushing for Selma and +were feeling how distressed Jane Hastings must be. + +``I had a wonderfully happy childhood,'' replied Selma. ``Until +I was old enough to understand and to suffer. I've lived in +tenements all my life--among very poor people. I'd not feel at +home anywhere else.'' + +``When I was born,'' said Miss Clearwater, ``we lived in a log +cabin up in the mining district of Michigan.'' + +Selma showed the astonishment the other girls were feeling. But +while their astonishment was in part at a girl of Ellen +Clearwater's position making such a degrading confession, hers +had none of that element in it. ``You don't in the least suggest +a log cabin or poverty of any kind,'' said she. ``I supposed you +had always been rich and beautifully dressed.'' + +``No, indeed,'' replied Ellen. She gazed calmly round at the +other girls who were listening. ``I doubt if any of us here was +born to what you see. Of course we-- some of us--make +pretenses--all sorts of silly pretenses. But as a matter of fact +there isn't one of us who hasn't near relatives in the cabins or +the tenements at this very moment.'' + +There was a hasty turning away from this dangerous conversation. +Jane came back from ordering the rearrangement of her luncheon +table. Said Selma: + +``I'd like to wash my hands, and smooth my hair a little.'' + +``You take her up, Ellen,'' said Jane. ``And hurry. We'll be in +the dining-room when you come down.'' + +Selma's eyes were wide and roving as she and Ellen went through +the drawing-room, the hall, up stairs and into the very prettily +furnished suite which Ellen was occupying. ``I never saw +anything like this before!'' exclaimed Selma. ``It's the first +time I was ever in a grand house. This is a grand house, isn't +it?'' + +``No--it's only comfortable,'' replied Ellen. ``Mr. +Hastings--and Jane, too, don't go in for grandeur.'' + +``How beautiful everything is--and how convenient!'' exclaimed +Selma. ``I haven't felt this way since the first time I went to +the circus.'' She pointed to a rack from which were suspended +thin silk dressing gowns of various rather gay patterns. ``What +are those?'' she inquired. + +``Dressing gowns,'' said Ellen. ``Just to wear round while one +is dressing or undressing.'' + +Selma advanced and felt and examined them. ``But why so many?'' +she inquired. + +``Oh, foolishness,'' said Ellen. ``Indulgence! To suit +different moods.'' + +``Lovely,'' murmured Selma. ``Lovely!'' + +``I suspect you of a secret fondness for luxury,'' said Ellen +slyly. + +Selma laughed. ``What would I do with such things?'' she +inquired. ``Why, I'd have no time to wear them. I'd never dare +put on anything so delicate.'' + +She roamed through dressing-room, bedroom, bath- room, marveling, +inquiring, admiring. ``I'm so glad I came,'' said she. ``This +will give me a fresh point of view. I can understand the people +of your class better, and be more tolerant about them. I +understand now why they are so hard and so indifferent. They're +quite removed from the common lot. They don't realize; they +can't. How narrow it must make one to have one's life filled +with these pretty little things for luxury and show. Why, if I +lived this life, I'd cease to be human after a short time.'' + +Ellen was silent. + +``I didn't mean to say anything rude or offensive,'' said Selma, +sensitive to the faintest impressions. ``I was speaking my +thoughts aloud. . . . Do you know David Hull?'' + +``The young reformer?'' said Ellen with a queer little smile. +``Yes--quite well.'' + +``Does he live like this?'' + +``Rather more grandly,'' said Ellen. + +Selma shook her head. A depressed expression settled upon her +features. ``It's useless,'' she said. ``He couldn't possibly +become a man.'' + +Ellen laughed. ``You must hurry,'' she said. ``We're keeping +everyone waiting.'' + +As Selma was making a few passes at her rebellious thick +hair--passes the like of which Miss Clearwater had never before +seen--she explained: + +``I've been somewhat interested in David Hull of late--have been +hoping he could graduate from a fake reformer into a useful +citizen. But--'' She looked round expressively at the luxury +surrounding them-- ``one might as well try to grow wheat in +sand.'' + +``Davy is a fine fraud,'' said Ellen. ``Fine--because he doesn't +in the least realize that he's a fraud.'' + +``I'm afraid he is a fraud,'' said Selma setting on her hat +again. ``What a pity? He might have been a man, if he'd been +brought up properly.'' She gazed at Ellen with sad, shining +eyes. ``How many men and women luxury blights!'' she cried. + +``It certainly has done for Davy,'' said Ellen lightly. ``He'll +never be anything but a respectable fraud.'' + +``Why do YOU think so?'' Selma inquired. + +``My father is a public man,'' Miss Clearwater explained. ``And +I've seen a great deal of these reformers. They're the ordinary +human variety of politician plus a more or less conscious +hypocrisy. Usually they're men who fancy themselves superior to +the common run in birth and breeding. My father has taught me to +size them up.'' + +They went down, and Selma, seated between Jane and Miss +Clearwater, amused both with her frank comments on the scene so +strange to her--the beautiful table, the costly service, the +variety and profusion of elaborate food. In fact, Jane, reaching +out after the effects got easily in Europe and almost as easily +in the East, but overtaxed the resources of the household which +she was only beginning to get into what she regarded as +satisfactory order. The luncheon, therefore, was a creditable +and promising attempt rather than a success, from the standpoint +of fashion. Jane was a little ashamed, and at times extremely +nervous-- this when she saw signs of her staff falling into +disorder that might end in rout. But Selma saw none of the +defects. She was delighted with the dazzling spectacle--for two +or three courses. Then she lapsed into quiet and could not be +roused to speak. + +Jane and Ellen thought she was overwhelmed and had been seized of +shyness in this company so superior to any in which she had ever +found herself. Ellen tried to induce her to eat, and, failing, +decided that her refraining was not so much firmness in the two +meals-a-day system as fear of making a ``break.'' She felt +genuinely sorry for the silent girl growing moment by moment more +ill-at-ease. When the luncheon was about half over Selma said +abruptly to Jane: + +``I must go now. I've stayed longer than I should.'' + +``Go?'' cried Jane. ``Why, we haven't begun to talk yet.'' + +``Another time,'' said Selma, pushing back her chair. ``No, +don't rise.'' And up she darted, smiling gayly round at the +company. ``Don't anybody disturb herself,'' she pleaded. +``It'll be useless, for I'll be gone.'' + +And she was as good as her word. Before any one quite realized +what she was about, she had escaped from the dining-room and from +the house. She almost ran across the lawn and into the woods. +There she drew a long breath noisily. + +``Free!'' she cried, flinging out her arms. ``Oh--but it was +DREADFUL!'' + +Miss Hastings and Miss Clearwater had not been so penetrating as +they fancied. Embarrassment had nothing to do with the silence +that had taken possession of the associate editor of the New Day. + +She was never self-conscious enough to be really shy. She +hastened to the office, meeting Victor Dorn in the street +doorway. She cried: + +``Such an experience!'' + +``What now?'' said Victor. He was used to that phrase from the +ardent and impressionable Selma. For her, with her wide-open +eyes and ears, her vivid imagination and her thirsty mind, life +was one closely packed series of adventures. + +``I had an hour to spare,'' she proceeded to explain. ``I +thought it was a chance to further a little scheme I've got for +marrying Jane Hastings and David Hull.'' + +``Um!'' said Victor with a quick change of expression --which, +however, Selma happened not to observe. + +``And,'' she went on, ``I blundered into a luncheon party Jane +was giving. You never saw--you never dreamed of such style--such +dresses and dishes and flowers and hats! And I was sitting there +with them, enjoying it all as if it were a circus or a ballet, +when-- Oh, Victor, what a silly, what a pitiful waste of time and +money! So much to do in the world--so much that is thrillingly +interesting and useful--and those intelligent young people +dawdling there at nonsense a child would weary of! I had to run +away. If I had stayed another minute I should have burst out +crying-- or denouncing them--or pleading with them to behave +themselves.'' + +``What else can they do?'' said Victor. ``They don't know any +better. They've never been taught. How's the article?'' + +And he led the way up to the editorial room and held her to the +subject of the article he had asked her to write. At the first +opportunity she went back to the subject uppermost in her mind. +Said she: + +``I guess you're right--as usual. There's no hope for any people +of that class. The busy ones are thinking only of making money +for themselves, and the idle ones are too enfeebled by luxury to +think at all. No, I'm afraid there's no hope for Hull--or for +Jane either.'' + +``I'm not sure about Miss Hastings,'' said Victor. + +``You would have been if you'd seen her to-day,'' replied Selma. +``Oh, she was lovely, Victor--really wonderful to look at. But +so obviously the idler. And-- body and soul she belongs to the +upper class. She understands charity, but she doesn't understand +justice, and never could understand it. I shall let her alone +hereafter.'' + +``How harsh you women are in your judgments of each other,'' +laughed Dorn, busy at his desk. + +``We are just,'' replied Selma. ``We are not fooled by each +other's pretenses.'' + +Dorn apparently had not heard. Selma saw that to speak would be +to interrupt. She sat at her own table and set to work on the +editorial paragraphs. After perhaps an hour she happened to +glance at Victor. He was leaning back in his chair, gazing past +her out into the open; in his face was an expression she had +never seen--a look in the eyes, a relaxing of the muscles round +the mouth that made her think of him as a man instead of as a +leader. She was saying to herself. ``What a fascinating man he +would have been, if he had not been an incarnate cause.'' + +She felt that he was not thinking of his work. She longed to +talk to him, but she did not venture to interrupt. Never in all +the years she had known him had he spoken to her--or to any +one--a severe or even an impatient word. His tolerance, his good +humor were infinite. Yet--she, and all who came into contact +with him, were afraid of him. There could come, and on occasion +there did come--into those extraordinary blue eyes an expression +beside which the fiercest flash of wrath would be easy to face. + +When she glanced at him again, his normal expression had +returned--the face of the leader who aroused in those he +converted into fellow-workers a fanatical devotion that was the +more formidable because it was not infatuated. He caught her eye +and said: + +``Things are in such good shape for us that it frightens me. I +spend most of my time in studying the horizon in the hope that I +can foresee which way the storm's coming from and what it will +be.'' + +``What a pessimist you are!'' laughed Selma. + +``That's why the Workingmen's League has a thick- and-thin +membership of thirteen hundred and fifty,'' replied Victor. +``That's why the New Day has twenty- two hundred paying +subscribers. That's why we grow faster than the employers can +weed our men out and replace them with immigrants and force them +to go to other towns for work.'' + +``Well, anyhow,'' said the girl, ``no matter what happens we +can't be weeded out.'' + +Victor shook his head. ``Our danger period has just begun,'' he +replied. ``The bosses realize our power. In the past we've been +annoyed a little from time to time. But they thought us hardly +worth bothering with. In the future we will have to fight.'' + +``I hope they will prosecute us,'' said Selma. ``Then, we'll +grow the faster.'' + +``Not if they do it intelligently,'' replied Victor. ``An +intelligent persecution--if it's relentless enough --always +succeeds. You forget that this isn't a world of moral ideas but +of force. . . . I am afraid of Dick Kelly. He is something more +than a vulgar boss. He SEES. My hope is that he won't be able +to make the others see. I saw him a while ago. He was extremely +polite to me--more so than he ever has been before. He is up to +something. I suspect----'' + +Victor paused, reflecting. ``What?'' asked Selma eagerly. + +``I suspect that he thinks he has us.'' He rose, preparing to go +out. ``Well--if he has--why, he has. And we shall have to begin +all over again.'' + +``How stupid they are!'' exclaimed the girl. ``To fight us who +are simply trying to bring about peaceably and sensibly what's +bound to come about anyhow.'' + +``Yes--the rain is bound to come,'' said Victor. ``And we say, +`Here's an umbrella and there's the way to shelter.' And they +laugh at OUR umbrella and, with the first drops plashing on their +foolish faces, deny that it's going to rain.'' + +The Workingmen's League, always first in the field with its +ticket, had been unusually early that year. Although it was only +the first week in August and the election would not be until the +third of October, the League had nominated. It was a ticket made +up entirely of skilled workers who had lived all their lives in +Remsen City and who had acquired an independence-- Victor Dorn +was careful not to expose to the falling fire of the opposition +any of his men who could be ruined by the loss of a job or could +be compelled to leave town in search of work. The League always +went early into campaign because it pursued a much slower and +less expensive method of electioneering than either of the old +parties--or than any of the ``upper class'' reform parties that +sprang up from time to time and died away as they accomplished or +failed of their purpose--securing recognition for certain +personal ambitions not agreeable to the old established bosses. +Besides, the League was, like the bosses and their henchmen, in +politics every day in every year. The League theory was that +politics was as much a part of a citizen's daily routine as his +other work or his meals. + +It was the night of the League's great ratification meeting. The +next day the first campaign number-- containing the biographical +sketch of Tony Rivers, Kelly's right-hand man . . . would go upon +the press, and on the following day it would reach the public. + +Market Square in Remsen City was on the edge of the power +quarter, was surrounded by cheap hotels, boarding houses and +saloons. A few years before, the most notable citizens, market +basket on arm, could have been seen three mornings in the week, +making the rounds of the stalls and stands, both those in the +open and those within the Market House. But customs had rapidly +changed in Remsen City, and with the exception of a few old +fogies only the poorer classes went to market. The masters of +houses were becoming gentlemen, and the housewives were elevating +into ladies--and it goes without saying that no gentleman and no +lady would descend to a menial task even in private, much less in +public. + +Market Square had even become too common for any but the inferior +meetings of the two leading political parties. Only the +Workingmen's League held to the old tradition that a political +meeting of the first rank could be properly held nowhere but in +the natural assembling place of the people--their market. So, +their first great rally of the campaign was billed for Market +Square. And at eight o'clock, headed by a large and vigorous +drum corps, the Victor Dorn cohorts at their full strength +marched into the centre of the Square, where one of the stands +had been transformed with flags, bunting and torches into a +speaker's platform. A crowd of many thousands accompanied and +followed the procession. Workingmen's League meetings were +popular, even among those who believed their interests lay +elsewhere. At League meetings one heard the plain truth, +sometimes extremely startling plain truth. The League had no +favors to ask of anybody, had nothing to conceal, was strongly +opposed to any and all political concealments. Thus, its +speakers enjoyed a freedom not usual in political speaking--and +Dorn and his fellow-leaders were careful that no router, no +exaggerator or well intentioned wild man of any kind should open +his mouth under a league banner. THAT was what made the League +so dangerous--and so steadily prosperous. + +The chairman, Thomas Colman, the cooper, was opening the meeting +in a speech which was an instance of how well a man of no +platform talent can acquit himself when he believes something and +believes it is his duty to convey it to his fellow-men. Victor +Dorn, to be the fourth speaker and the orator of the evening, was +standing at the rear of the platform partially concealed by the +crowd of men and women leaders of the party grouped behind +Colman. As always at the big formal demonstrations of the +League, Victor was watching every move. This evening his anxiety +was deeper than ever before. His trained political sagacity +warned him that, as he had suggested to Selma, the time of his +party's first great crisis was at hand. No movement could become +formidable with out a life and death struggle, when its aim +frankly was to snatch power from the dominant class and to place +it where that class could not hope to prevail either by direct +means of force or by its favorite indirect means of bribery. +What would Kelly do? What would be his stroke at the very life +of the League?-- for Victor had measured Kelly and knew he was +not one to strike until he could destroy. + +Like every competent man of action, Victor had measured his own +abilities, and had found that they were to be relied upon. But +the contest between him and Kelly-- the contest in the last +ditch--was so appallingly unequal. Kelly had the courts and the +police, the moneyed class, the employers of labor, had the clergy +and well-dressed respectability, the newspapers, all the +customary arbiters of public sentiment. Also, he had the +criminal and the semi-criminal classes. And what had the League? + +The letter of the law, guaranteeing freedom of innocent speech +and action, guaranteeing the purity of the ballot--no, not +guaranteeing, but simply asserting those rights, and leaving the +upholding of them to--Kelly's allies and henchmen! Also, the +League had the power of between a thousand and fifteen hundred +intelligent and devoted men and about the same number of women--a +solid phalanx of great might, of might far beyond its numbers. +Finally, it had Victor Dorn. He had no mean opinion of his value +to the movement; but he far and most modestly underestimated it. +The human way of rallying to an abstract principle is by way of a +standard bearer--a man-- personality--a real or fancied +incarnation of the ideal to be struggled for. And to the +Workingmen's League, to the movement for conquering Remsen City +for the mass of its citizens, Victor Dorn was that incarnation. + +Kelly could use violence--violence disguised as law, violence +candidly and brutally lawless. Victor Dorn could only use lawful +means--clearly and cautiously lawful means. He must at all costs +prevent the use of force against him and his party--must give +Kelly no pretext for using the law lawlessly. If Kelly used +force against him, whether the perverted law of the courts or +open lawlessness, he must meet it with peace. If Kelly smote him +on the right cheek he must give him the left to be smitten. + +When the League could outvote Kelly, then--another policy, still +of calmness and peace and civilization, but not so meek. But +until the League could outvote Kelly, nothing but patient +endurance. + +Every man in the League had been drilled in this strategy. Every +man understood--and to be a member of the League meant that one +was politically educated. Victor believed in his associates as +he believed in himself. Still, human nature was human nature. +If Kelly should suddenly offer some adroit outrageous +provocation-- would the League be able to resist? + +Victor, on guard, studied the crowd spreading out from the +platform in a gigantic fan. Nothing there to arouse suspicion; +ten or twelve thousand of working class men and women. His +glance pushed on out toward the edges of the crowd--toward the +saloons and alleys of the disreputable south side of Market +Square. His glance traveled slowly along, pausing upon each +place where these loungers, too far away to hear, were gathered +into larger groups. Why he did not know, but suddenly his glance +wheeled to the right, and then as suddenly to the left--the west +and the east ends of the square. There, on either side he +recognized, in the farthest rim of the crowd, several of the men +who did Kelly's lowest kinds of dirty work--the brawlers, the +repeaters, the leaders of gangs, the false witnesses for petty +corporation damage cases. A second glance, and he saw or, +perhaps, divined--purpose in those sinister presences. He looked +for the police--the detail of a dozen bluecoats always assigned +to large open-air meetings. Not a policeman was to be seen. + +Victor pushed through the crowd on the platform, advanced to the +side of Colman. ``Just a minute, Tom,'' he said. ``I've got to +say a word--at once.'' + +Colman had fallen back; Victor Dorn was facing the crowd--HIS +crowd--the men and women who loved him. In the clear, friendly, +natural voice that marked him for the leader born, the honest +leader of an honest cause, he said: + +``My friends, if there is an attempt to disturb this meeting, +remember what we of the League stand for. No violence. Draw +away from every disturber, and wait for the police to act. If +the police stop our meeting, let them--and be ready to go to +court and testify to the exact words of the speaker on which the +meeting was stopped. Remember, we must be more lawful than the +law itself!'' + +He was turning away. A cheer was rising--a belated cheer, +because his words had set them all to thinking and to observing. +From the left of the crowd, a dozen yards away from the platform, +came a stone heavily rather than swiftly flung, as from an +impeded hand. In full view of all it curved across the front of +the platform and struck Victor Dorn full in the side of the head. + +He threw up his hands. + +``Boys--remember!'' he shouted with a terrible energy-- then, he +staggered forward and fell from the platform into the crowd. + +The stone was a signal. As it flew, into the crowd from every +direction the Beech Hollow gangs tore their way, yelling and +cursing and striking out right and left --trampling children, +knocking down women, pouring out the foulest insults. The street +lamps all round Market Square went out, the torches on the +platform were torn down and extinguished. And in a dimness +almost pitch dark a riot that involved that whole mass of people +raged hideously. Yells and screams and groans, the shrieks of +women, the piteous appeals of children--benches torn up for +weapons--mad slashing about--snarls and singings of pain-stricken +groups-- then police whistles, revolvers fired in the air, and +the quick, regular tramp of disciplined forces. The police +--strangely ready, strangely inactive until the mischief had all +been done entered the square from the north and, forming a double +line across it from east to west, swept it slowly clean. The +fighting ended as abruptly as it had begun. Twenty minutes after +the flight of that stone, the square was empty save a group of +perhaps fifty men and women formed about Victor Dorn's body in +the shelter of the platform. + +Selma Gordon was holding his head. Jane Hastings and Ellen +Clearwater were kneeling beside him, and Jane was wiping his face +with a handkerchief wet with whisky from the flask of the man who +had escorted them there. + +``He is only stunned,'' said Selma. ``I can feel the beat of his +blood. He is only stunned.'' + +A doctor came, got down on his knees, made a rapid examination +with expert hands. As he felt, one of the relighted torches +suddenly lit up Victor's face and the faces of those bending over +him. + +``He is only stunned, Doctor,'' said Selma. + +``I think so,'' replied the doctor. + +``We left our carriage in the side street just over there,'' said +Jane Hastings. ``It will take him to the hospital.'' + +``No--home,'' said Selma, who was calm. ``He must be taken +home.'' + +``The hospital is the place for him,'' said the doctor. + +``No--home,'' repeated Selma. She glanced at the men standing +round. ``Tom--Henry--and you, Ed-- help me lift him.'' + +``Please, Selma,'' whispered Jane. ``Let him be taken to the +hospital.'' + +``Among our enemies?'' said Selma with a strange and terrible +little laugh. ``Oh, no. After this, we trust no one. They may +have arranged to finish this night's work there. He goes +home--doesn't he, boys?'' + +``That's right, Miss Gordon,'' replied one of them. + +The doctor shrugged his shoulders. ``Here's where I drop the +case,'' said he. + +``Nothing of the kind,'' cried Jane imperiously. ``I am Jane +Hastings--Martin Hastings' daughter. You will come with us, +please--or I shall see to it that you are not let off easily for +such a shameful neglect of duty.'' + +``Let him go, Jane,'' said Selma. ``There will be a doctor +waiting. And he is only stunned. Come, boys-- lift him up.'' + +They laid him on a bench top, softened with the coats of his +followers. At the carriage, standing in Farwell Street, they +laid him across the two seats. Selma got in with him. Tom +Colman climbed to the box beside the coachman. Jane and Miss +Clearwater, their escorts and about a score of the Leaguers +followed on foot. As the little procession turned into Warner +Street it was stopped by a policeman. + +``Can't go down this way,'' he said. + +``It's Mr. Dorn. We're taking him home. He was hurt,'' +explained Colman. + +``Fire lines. Street's closed,'' said the policeman gruffly. + +Selma thrust her head out. ``We must get him home----'' + +``House across the street burning--and probably his house, too,'' +cut in the policeman. ``He's been raising hell--he has. But +it's coming home to him at last. Take him to the hospital.'' + +``Jane,'' cried Selma, ``make this man pass us!'' + +Jane faced the policeman, explained who she was. He became +humbly civil at once. ``I've just told her, ma'am,'' said he, +``that his house is burning. The mob's gutting the New Day +office and setting fire to everything.'' + +``My house is in the next street,'' said Colman. ``Drive there. +Some of you people get Dr. Charlton-- and everything. Get busy. +Whip up, driver. Here, give me the lines!'' + +Thus, within five minutes, Victor was lying upon a couch in the +parlor of Colman's cottage, and within ten minutes Dr. Charlton +was beside him and was at work. Selma and Jane and Mrs. Colman +were in the room. The others--a steadily increasing crowd--were +on the steps outside, in the front yard, were filling the narrow +street. Colman had organized fifty Leaguers into a guard, to be +ready for any emergencies. Over the tops of the low houses could +be seen the vast cloud of smoke from the fire; the air was heavy +with the odors of burning wood; faintly came sounds of engines, +of jubilant drunken shouts. + +``A fracture of the skull and of the jaw-bone. Not necessarily +serious,'' was Dr. Charlton's verdict. + +The young man, unconscious, ghastly pale, with his thick hair +mussed about his brow and on the right side clotted with blood, +lay breathing heavily. Ellen Clearwater came in and Mrs. Colman +whispered to her the doctor's cheering statement. She went to +Jane and said in an undertone: + +``We can go now, Jane. Come on.'' + +Jane seemed not to hear. She was regarding the face of the young +man on the couch. + +Ellen touched her arm. ``We're intruding on these people,'' she +whispered. ``Let's go. We've done all we can.'' + +Selma did not hear, but she saw and understood. + +``Yes--you'd better go, Jane,'' she said. ``Mrs. Colman and I +will do everything that's necessary.'' + +Jane did not heed. She advanced a step nearer the couch. ``You +are sure, doctor?'' she said, and her voice sounded unnatural. + +``Yes, miss----'' He glanced at her face. ``Yes, Miss Hastings. + +He'll be out in less than ten days, as good as ever. It's a very +simple affair.'' + +Jane glanced round. ``Is there a telephone? I wish to send for +Dr. Alban.'' + +``I'd be glad to see him,'' said Dr. Charlton. ``But I assure +you it's unnecessary.'' + +``We don't want Dr. Alban,'' said Selma curtly. ``Go home, Jane, +and let us alone.'' + +``I shall go bring Dr. Alban,'' said Jane. + +Selma took her by the arm and compelled her into the hall, and +closed the door into the room where Victor lay. ``You must go +home, Jane,'' she said quietly. ``We know what to do with our +leader. And we could not allow Dr. Alban here.'' + +``Victor must have the best,'' said Jane. + +She and Selma looked at each other, and Selma understood. + +``He HAS the best,'' said she, gentle with an effort. + +``Dr. Alban is the best,'' said Jane. + +``The most fashionable,'' said Selma. ``Not the best.'' With +restraint, ``Go home. Let us alone. This is no place for +you--for Martin Hastings' daughter.'' + +Jane, looking and acting like one in a trance, tried to push +past her and reenter the room. Selma stood firm. She said: +``If you do not go I shall have these men take you to your +carriage. You do not know what you are doing.'' + +Jane looked at her. ``I love him,'' she said. + +``So do we,'' said Selma. ``And he belongs to US. You must go. +Come!'' She seized her by the arm, and beckoning one of the +waiting Leaguers to her assistance she pushed her quietly but +relentlessly along the hall, out of the house, out of the yard +and into the carriage. Then she closed the door, while Jane sank +back against the cushions. + +``Yes, he belongs to you,'' said Jane; ``but I love him. Oh, +Selma!'' + +Selma suddenly burst into tears. ``Go, Jane, dear. You MUST +go,'' she cried. + +``At least I'll wait here until--until they are sure,'' said +Jane. ``You can't refuse me that, Selma.'' + +``But they are sure,'' said Selma. ``You must go with your +friends. Here they come.'' + +When Ellen Clearwater and Joe Wetherbe--the second son of the +chief owner of the First National-- reached the curb, Selma said +to Wetherbe: + +``Please stand aside. I've something to say to this lady.'' + +When Wetherbe had withdrawn, she said: ``Miss Hastings is--not +quite herself. You had better take her home alone.'' + +Jane leaned from the open carriage window. ``Ellen,'' said she, +``I am going to stay here until Victor recovers consciousness, +and I am SURE.'' + +``He has just come around,'' said Ellen. ``He is certain to get +well. His mind is clear.'' + +``I must see for myself,'' cried Jane. + +Selma was preventing her leaving the carriage when Ellen quietly +interfered with a significant look for Selma. ``Jane,'' she +said, ``you can't go in. The doctor has just put every one out +but his assistant and a nurse that has come.'' + +Jane hesitated, drew back into the corner of the carriage. +``Tell Mr. Wetherbe to go his own way,'' said Ellen aside to +Selma, and she got in beside Jane. + +``To Mr. Hastings','' said Selma to the driver. The carriage +drove away. + +She gave Ellen's message to Wetherbe and returned to the house. +Victor was still unconscious; he did not come to himself until +toward daylight. And then it was clear to them all that Dr. +Charlton's encouraging diagnosis was correct. + +Public opinion in Remsen City was publicly articulate by means of +three daily newspapers--the Pioneer, the Star, and the Free +Press. The Star and the Free Press were owned by the same group +of capitalists who controlled the gas company and the water +works. The Pioneer was owned by the traction interests. Both +groups of capitalists were jointly interested in the railways, +the banks and in the principal factories. The Pioneer was +Republican, was regarded as the organ of Dick Kelly. The Star +was Democratic, spoke less cordially of Kelly and always called +for House, Mr. House, or Joseph House, Esquire. The Free Press +posed as independent with Democratic leanings. It indulged in +admirable essays against corruption, gang rule and bossism. But +it was never specific and during campaigns was meek and mild. +For nearly a dozen years there had not been a word of truth upon +any subject important to the people of Remsen City in the columns +of any of the three. During wars between rival groups of +capitalists a half-truth was now and then timidly uttered, but +never a word of ``loose talk,'' of ``anarchy,'' of anything but +the entirely ``safe, sane and conservative.'' + +Thus, any one who might have witnessed the scenes in Market +Square on Thursday evening would have been not a little +astonished to read the accounts presented the next day by the +three newspapers. According to all three the Workingmen's +League, long a menace to the public peace, had at last brought +upon Remsen City the shame of a riot in which two men, a woman +and four children had lost their lives and more than a hundred, +``including the notorious Victor Dorn,'' had been injured. And +after the riot the part of the mob that was hostile to ``the Dorn +gang'' had swept down upon the office of the New Day, had wrecked +it, and had set fire to the building, with the result that five +houses were burned before the flames could be put out. The Free +Press published, as a mere rumor, that the immediate cause of +the outbreak had been an impending ``scurrilous attack'' in the +New Day upon one of the political gangs of the slums and its +leader. The Associated Press, sending forth an account of the +riot to the entire country, represented it as a fight between +rival gangs of workmen precipitated by the insults and menaces of +a ``socialistic party led by a young operator named Dorn.'' +Dorn's faction had aroused in the mass of the workingmen a fear +that this spread of ``socialistic and anarchistic ideas'' would +cause a general shut down of factories and a flight of the +capital that was ``giving employment to labor.'' + +A version of the causes and the events, somewhat nearer the +truth, was talked about Remsen City. But all the respectable +classes were well content with what their newspapers printed. +And, while some broad- minded respectabilities spoke of the +affair as an outrage, none of them was disposed to think that any +real wrong had been done. Victor Dorn and his crowd of +revolutionists had got, after all, only their deserts. + +After forty-eight hours of careful study of public opinion, Dick +Kelly decided that Remsen City was taking the dose as he had +anticipated. He felt emboldened to proceed to his final move in +the campaign against ``anarchy'' in his beloved city. On the +second morning after the riot, all three newspapers published +double- headed editorials calling upon the authorities to +safeguard the community against another such degrading and +dangerous upheaval. ``It is time that the distinction between +liberty and license be sharply drawn.'' After editorials in this +vein had been repeated for several days, after sundry bodies of +eminently respectable citizens--the Merchants' Association, the +Taxpayers' League, the Chamber of Commerce--had passed indignant +and appealing resolutions, after two priests, a clergyman and +four preachers had sermonized against ``the leniency of +constituted authority with criminal anarchy,'' Mr. Kelly had the +City Attorney go before Judge Lansing and ask for an injunction. + +Judge Lansing promptly granted the injunction. The New Day was +enjoined from appearing. The Workingmen's League was enjoined +from holding meetings. + +Then the County Prosecutor, also a henchman of Kelly's, secured +from the Grand Jury--composed of farmers, merchants and owners of +factories--indictments against Thomas Colman and Victor Dorn for +inciting a riot. + +Meanwhile Victor Dorn was rapidly recovering. With rare +restraint young Dr. Charlton did not fuss and fret and meddle, +did not hamper nature with his blundering efforts to assist, did +not stuff ``nourishment'' into his patient to decay and to +produce poisonous blood. He let the young man's superb vitality +work the inevitable and speedy cure. Thus, wounds and shocks, +that have often been mistreated by doctors into mortal, passed so +quickly that only Selma Gordon and the doctor himself realized +how grave Victor's case had been. The day he was indicted--just +a week from the riot--he was sitting up and was talking freely. + +``Won't it set him back if I tell him all that has occurred?'' +said Selma. + +``Talk to him as you would to me,'' replied Charlton. ``He is a +sensible man. I've already told him pretty much everything. It +has kept him from fretting, to be able to lie there quietly and +make his plans.'' + +Had you looked in upon Victor and Selma, in Colman's little +transformed parlor, you would rather have thought Selma the +invalid. The man in the bed was pale and thin of face, but his +eyes had the expression of health and of hope. Selma had great +circles under her eyes and her expression was despair struggling +to conceal itself. Those indictments, those injunctions-- how +powerful the enemy were! How could such an enemy, aroused new +and inflexibly resolved, be combatted?--especially when one had +no money, no way of reaching the people, no chance to organize. + +``Dr. Charlton has told you?'' said Selma. + +``Day before yesterday,'' replied Victor. ``Why do you look so +down-in-the-mouth, Selma?'' + +``It isn't easy to be cheerful, with you ill and the paper +destroyed,'' replied she. + +``But I'm not ill, and the paper isn't destroyed,'' said Victor. +``Never were either I or it doing such good work as now.'' His +eyes were dancing. ``What more could one ask than to have such +stupid enemies as we've got?'' + +Selma did not lift her eyes. To her those enemies seemed +anything but stupid. Had they not ruined the League? + +``I see you don't understand,'' pursued Victor. ``No matter. +You'll wear a very different face two weeks from now.'' + +``But,'' said Selma, ``exactly what you said you were afraid of +has occurred. And now you say you're glad of it.'' + +``I told you I was afraid Dick Kelly would make the one move that +could destroy us.'' + +``But he has!'' cried Selma. + +Victor smiled. ``No, indeed!'' replied he. + +``What worse could he have done?'' + +``I'll not tell you,'' said Victor. ``I'd not venture to say +aloud such a dangerous thing as what I'd have done if I had been +in his place. Instead of doing that, he made us. We shall win +this fall's election.'' + +Selma lifted her head with a sudden gesture of hope. She had +unbounded confidence in Victor Dorn, and his tone was the tone of +absolute confidence. + +``I had calculated on winning in five years. I had left the +brutal stupidity of our friend Kelly out of account.'' + +``Then you see how you can hold meetings and start up the +paper?'' + +``I don't want to do either,'' said Victor. ``I want those +injunctions to stand. Those fools have done at a stroke what we +couldn't have done in years. They have united the working class. + +They--the few--have forbidden us, the many, to unite or to speak. + +If those injunctions hold for a month, nothing could stop our +winning this fall. . . . I can't understand how Dick Kelly could +be so stupid. Five years ago these moves of his would have been +bad for us--yes, even three years ago. But we've got too +strong--and he doesn't realize! Selma, when you want to win, +always pray that your opponent will underestimate you.'' + +``I still don't understand,'' said Selma. ``None of us does. +You must explain to me, so that I'll know what to do.'' + +``Do nothing,'' said Victor. ``I shall be out a week from +to-day. I shall not go into the streets until I not only am well +but look well.'' + +``They arrested Tom Colman to-day,'' said Selma. ``But they put +the case over until you'd be able to plead at the same time.'' + +``That's right,'' said Victor. ``They are playing into our +hands!'' And he laughed as heartily as his bandages would +permit. + +``Oh, I don't understand--I don't understand at all!'' cried +Selma. ``Maybe you are all wrong about it.'' + +``I was never more certain in my life,'' replied Victor. ``Stop +worrying about it, my dear.'' And he patted her hands gently as +they lay folded in her lap. ``I want you--all our people--to go +round looking sad these next few days. I want Dick Kelly to feel +that he is on the right track.'' + +There came a knock at the door, and Mrs. Colman entered. She had +been a school teacher, and of all the occupations there is no +other that leaves such plain, such indelible traces upon manner, +mind and soul. Said she: + +``Miss Jane Hastings is outside in her carriage--and wants to +know if she can see you.'' + +Selma frowned. Victor said with alacrity: ``Certainly. Bring +her in, Mrs. Colman.'' + +Selma rose. ``Wait until I can get out of the way,'' she cried. + +``Sit down, and sit still,'' commanded Victor. + +Selma continued to move toward the door. ``No--I don't wish to +see her,'' she said. + +Victor chagrined her by acquiescing without another word. +``You'll look in after supper?'' he asked. + +``If you want me,'' said the girl. + +``Come back here,'' said Victor. ``Wait, Mrs. Colman.'' When +Selma was standing by the bed he took her hand. ``Selma,'' he +said, ``don't let these things upset you. Believe me, I'm right. + +Can't you trust me?'' + +Selma had the look of a wild creature detained against its will. +``I'm not worried about the party--and the paper,'' she burst +out. ``I'm worried about you.'' + +``But I'm all right. Can't you see I'm almost well?'' + +Selma drew her hand away. ``I'll be back about half- past +seven,'' she said, and bolted from the room. + +Victor's good-natured, merry smile followed her to the door. +When the sound of her retreat by way of the rear of the house was +dying away he said to Mrs. Colman: + +``Now--bring in the young lady. And please warn her that she +must stay at most only half an hour by that clock over there on +the mantel.'' + +Every day Jane had been coming to inquire, had been bringing or +sending flowers and fruit--which, by Dr. Charlton's orders, were +not supposed to enter the invalid's presence. Latterly she had +been asking to see Victor; she was surprised when Mrs. Colman +returned with leave for her to enter. Said Mrs. Colman: + +``He's alone. Miss Gordon has just gone. You will see a clock +on the mantel in his room. You must not stay longer than half an +hour.'' + +``I shall be very careful what I say,'' said Jane. + +``Oh, you needn't bother,'' said the ex-school teacher. ``Dr. +Charlton doesn't believe in sick-room atmosphere. You must treat +Mr. Dorn exactly as you would a well person. If you're going to +take on, or put on, you'd better not go in at all.'' + +``I'll do my best,'' said Jane, rather haughtily, for she did not +like Mrs. Colman's simple and direct manner. She was used to +being treated with deference, especially by the women of Mrs. +Colman's class; and while she disapproved of deference in theory, +in practice she craved it, and expected it, and was irritated if +she did not get it. But, as she realized how unattractive this +weakness was, she usually took perhaps more pains than does the +average person to conceal it. That day her nerves were too tense +for petty precautions. However, Mrs. Colman was too busy +inspecting the details of Miss Hastings' toilet to note Miss +Hastings' manners. + +Jane's nervousness vanished the instant she was in the doorway of +the parlor with Victor Dorn looking at her in that splendidly +simple and natural way of his. ``So glad to see you,'' he said. +``What a delightful perfume you bring with you. I've noticed it +before. I know it isn't flowers, but it smells like flowers. +With most perfumes you can smell through the perfume to something +that's the very reverse of sweet.'' + +They were shaking hands. She said: ``That nice woman who let me +in cautioned me not to put on a sick- room manner or indulge in +sick-room talk. It was quite unnecessary. You're looking +fine.'' + +``Ain't I, though?'' exclaimed Victor. ``I've never been so +comfortable. Just weak enough to like being waited on. You were +very good to me the night that stone knocked me over. I want to +thank you, but I don't know how. And the flowers, and the +fruit-- You have been so kind.'' + +``I could do very little,'' said Jane, blushing and faltering. +``And I wanted to do--everything.'' Suddenly all energy, ``Oh, +Mr. Dorn, I heard and saw it all. It was--INFAMOUS! And the +lying newspapers--and all the people I meet socially. They keep +me in a constant rage.'' + +Victor was smiling gayly. ``The fortunes of war,'' said he. ``I +expect nothing else. If they fought fair they couldn't fight at +all. We, on this side of the struggle, can afford to be generous +and tolerant. They are fighting the losing battle; they're +trying to hold on to the past, and of course it's slipping from +them inch by inch. But we--we are in step with the march of +events.'' + +When she was with him Jane felt that his cause was hers, +also--was the only cause. ``When do you begin publishing your +paper again?'' she asked. ``As soon as you are sitting up?'' + +``Not for a month or so,'' replied he. ``Not until after the +election.'' + +``Oh, I forgot about that injunction. You think that as soon as +Davy Hull's crowd is in they will let you begin again?'' + +He hesitated. ``Not exactly that,'' he said. ``But after the +election there will be a change.'' + +Her eyes flashed. ``And they have indicted you! I heard the +newsboys crying it and stopped and bought a paper. But I shall +do something about that. I am going straight from here to +father. Ellen Clearwater and I and Joe Wetherbe SAW. And Ellen +and I will testify if it's necessary--and will make Joe tell the +truth. Do you know, he actually had the impudence to try to +persuade Ellen and me the next day that we saw what the papers +reported?'' + +``I believe it,'' said Victor. ``So I believe that Joe convinced +himself.'' + +``You are too charitable,'' replied Jane. ``He's afraid of his +father.'' + +``Miss Hastings,'' said Victor, ``you suggested a moment ago that +you would influence your father to interfere in this matter of +the indictment.'' + +``I'll promise you now that he will have it stopped,'' said Jane. + +``You want to help the cause, don't you?'' + +Jane's eyes shifted, a little color came into her cheeks. ``The +cause--and you,'' she said. + +``Very well,'' said Victor. ``Then you will not interfere. And +if your father talks of helping me you will discourage him all +you can.'' + +``You are saying that out of consideration for me. You're afraid +I will quarrel with my father.'' + +``I hadn't thought of that,'' said Victor. ``I can't tell you +what I have in mind. But I'll have to say this much--that if you +did anything to hinder those fellows from carrying out their +plans against me and against the League to the uttermost you'd be +doing harm instead of good.'' + +``But they may send you to jail. . . . No, I forgot. You can +give bail.'' + +Victor's eyes had a quizzical expression. ``Yes, I could give +bail. But even if I don't give bail, Miss Hastings --even if I +am sent to jail--Colman and I--still you must not interfere. You +promise me?'' + +Jane hesitated. ``I can't promise,'' she finally said. + +``You must,'' said Victor. ``You'll make a mess of my plans, if +you don't.'' + +``You mean that?'' + +``I mean that. Your intentions are good. But you would only do +mischief--serious mischief.'' + +They looked at each other. Said Jane: ``I promise-- on one +condition.'' + +``Yes?'' + +``That if you should change your mind and should want my help, +you'd promptly and freely ask for it.'' + +``I agree to that,'' said Victor. ``Now, let's get it clearly in +mind. No matter what is done about me or the League, you promise +not to interfere in any way, unless I ask you to.'' + +Again Jane hesitated. ``No matter what they do?'' she pleaded. + +``No matter what they do,'' insisted he. + +Something in his expression gave her a great thrill of confidence +in him, of enthusiasm. ``I promise,'' she said. ``You know +best.'' + +``Indeed I do,'' said he. ``Thank you.'' + +A moment's silence, then she exclaimed: ``That was why you let +me in to-day--because you wanted to get that promise from me.'' + +``That was one of the reasons,'' confessed he. ``In fact, it was +the chief reason.'' He smiled at her. ``There's nothing I'm so +afraid of as of enthusiasm. I'm going to be still more cautious +and exact another promise from you. You must not tell any one +that you have promised not to interfere.'' + +``I can easily promise that,'' said Jane. + +``Be careful,'' warned Victor. ``A promise easily made is a +promise easily forgotten.'' + +``I begin to understand,'' said Jane. ``You want them to attack +you as savagely as possible. And you don't want them to get the +slightest hint of your plan.'' + +``A good guess,'' admitted Victor. He looked at her gravely. +``Circumstances have let you farther into my confidence than any +one else is. I hope you will not abuse it.'' + +``You can rely upon me,'' said Jane. ``I want your friendship +and your respect as I never wanted anything in my life before. +I'm not afraid to say these things to you, for I know I'll not be +misunderstood.'' + +Victor's smile thrilled her again. ``You were born one of us,'' +he said. ``I felt it the first time we talked together.'' + +``Yes. I do want to be somebody,'' replied the girl. ``I can't +content myself in a life of silly routine . . . can't do things +that have no purpose, no result. And if it wasn't for my father +I'd come out openly for the things I believe in. But I've got to +think of him. It may be a weakness, but I couldn't overcome it. +As long as my father lives I'll do nothing that would grieve him. + +Do you despise me for that?'' + +``I don't despise anybody for anything,'' said Victor. ``In your +place I should put my father first.'' He laughed. ``In your +place I'd probably be a Davy Hull or worse. I try never to +forget that I owe everything to the circumstances in which I was +born and brought up. I've simply got the ideas of my class, and +it's an accident that I am of the class to which the future +belongs--the working class that will possess the earth as soon as +it has intelligence enough to enter into its kingdom.'' + +``But,'' pursued Jane, returning to herself, ``I don't intend to +be altogether useless. I can do something and he--my father, I +mean--needn't know. Do you think that is dreadful?'' + +``I don't like it,'' said Victor. But he said it in such a way +that she did not feel rebuked or even judged. + +``Nor do I,'' said she. ``I'd rather lead the life I wish to +lead--say the things I believe--do the things I believe in--all +openly. But I can't. And all I can do is to spend the income of +my money my mother left me-- spend it as I please.'' With a +quick embarrassed gesture she took an envelope from a small bag +in which she was carrying it. ``There's some of it,'' she said. +``I want to give that to your campaign fund. You are free to use +it in any way you please--any way, for everything you are and do +is your cause.'' + +Victor was lying motionless, his eyes closed. + +``Don't refuse,'' she begged. ``You've no right to refuse.'' + +A long silence, she watching him uneasily. At last he said, +``No--I've no right to refuse. If I did, it would be from a +personal motive. You understand that when you give the League +this money you are doing what your father would regard as an act +of personal treachery to him?'' + +``You don't think so, do you?'' cried she. + +``Yes, I do,'' said he deliberately. + +Her face became deathly pale, then crimson. She thrust the +envelope into the bag, closed it hastily. ``Then I can't give +it,'' she murmured. ``Oh--but you are hard!'' + +``If you broke with your father and came with us-- and it killed +him, as it probably would,'' Victor Dorn went on, ``I should +respect you--should regard you as a wonderful, terrible woman. I +should envy you having a heart strong enough to do a thing so +supremely right and so supremely relentless. And I should be +glad you were not of my blood--should think you hardly human. +Yet that is what you ought to do.'' + +``I am not up to it,'' said Jane. + +``Then you mustn't do the other,'' said Victor. ``We need the +money. I am false to the cause in urging you not to give it. +But--I'm human.'' + +He was looking away, an expression in his eyes and about his +mouth that made him handsomer than she would have believed a man +could be. She was looking at him longingly, her beautiful eyes +swimming. Her lips were saying inaudibly, ``I love you--I love +you.'' + +``What did you say?'' he asked, his thoughts returning from their +far journey. + +``My time is up,'' she exclaimed, rising. + +``There are better ways of helping than money,'' said he, taking +her hand. ``And already you've helped in those ways.'' + +``May I come again?'' + +``Whenever you like. But--what would your father say?'' + +``Then you don't want me to come again?'' + +``It's best not,'' said he. ``I wish fate had thrown us on the +same side. But it has put us in opposite camps-- and we owe it +to ourselves to submit.'' + +Their hands were still clasped. ``You are content to have it +so?'' she said sadly. + +``No, I'm not,'' cried he, dropping her hand. ``But we are +helpless.'' + +``We can always hope,'' said she softly. + +On impulse she laid her hand in light caress upon his brow, then +swiftly departed. As she stood in Mrs. Colman's flowery little +front yard and looked dazedly about, it seemed to her that she +had been away from the world--away from herself--and was +reluctantly but inevitably returning. + + + +VI + + +As Jane drove into the grounds of the house on the hilltop she +saw her father and David Hull in an obviously intimate and +agitated conversation on the front veranda. She made all haste +to join them; nor was she deterred by the reception she got--the +reception given to the unwelcome interrupter. Said she: + +``You are talking about those indictments, aren't you? Everyone +else is. There's a group on every corner down town, and people +are calling their views to each other from windows across the +streets.'' + +Davy glanced triumphantly at her father. ``I told you so,'' said +he. + +Old Hastings was rubbing his hand over his large, bony, wizened +face in the manner that indicates extreme perplexity. + +Davy turned to Jane. ``I've been trying to show your father what +a stupid, dangerous thing Dick Kelly has done. I want him to +help me undo it. It MUST be undone or Victor Dorn will sweep the +town on election day.'' + +Jane's heart was beating wildly. She continued to say +carelessly, ``You think so?'' + +``Davy's got a bad attack of big red eye to-day,'' said her +father. ``It's a habit young men have.'' + +``I'm right, Mr. Hastings,'' cried Hull. ``And, furthermore, you +know I'm right, Jane; you saw that riot the other night. Joe +Wetherbe told me so. You said that it was an absolutely +unprovoked assault of the gangs of Kelly and House. Everyone in +town knows it was. The middle and the upper class people are +pretending to believe what the papers printed-- what they'd like +to believe. But they KNOW better. The working people are +apparently silent. They usually are apparently silent. But they +know the truth --they are talking it among themselves. And these +indictments will make Victor Dorn a hero.'' + +``What of it? What of it?'' said Hastings impatiently. ``The +working people don't count.'' + +``Not as long as we can keep them divided,'' retorted Davy. +``But if they unite----'' + +And he went on to explain what he had in mind. He gave them an +analysis of Remsen City. About fifty thousand inhabitants, of +whom about ten thousand were voters. These voters were divided +into three classes--upper class, with not more than three or four +hundred votes, and therefore politically of no importance AT THE +POLLS, though overwhelmingly the most influential in any other +way; the middle class, the big and little merchants, the lawyers +and doctors, the agents and firemen and so on, mustering in all +about two thousand votes; finally, the working class with no less +than eight thousand votes out of a total of ten thousand. + +``By bribery and cajolery and browbeating and appeal to religious +prejudice and to fear of losing jobs--by all sorts of chicane,'' +said Davy, ``about seven of these eight thousand votes are kept +divided between the Republican or Kelly party and the Democratic +or House party. The other ten or twelve hundred belong to Victor +Dorn's League. Now, the seven thousand workingmen voters who +follow Kelly and House like Victor Dorn, like his ideas, are with +him at heart. But they are afraid of him. They don't trust each +other. Workingmen despise the workingman as an ignorant fool.'' + +``So he is,'' said Hastings. + +``So he is,'' agreed Davy. ``But Victor Dorn has about got the +workingmen in this town persuaded that they'd fare better with +Dorn and the League as their leaders than with Kelly and House as +their leaders. And if Kelly goes on to persecute Victor Dorn, +the workingmen will be frightened for their rights to free speech +and free assembly. And they'll unite. I appeal to you, +Jane--isn't that common sense?'' + +``I don't know anything about politics,'' said Jane, looking +bored. ``You must go in and lie down before dinner, father. You +look tired.'' + +Hastings got ready to rise. + +``Just a minute, Mr. Hastings,'' pleaded Hull. ``This must be +settled now--at once. I must be in a position not only to +denounce this thing, but also to stop it. Not to-morrow, but +to-day . . . so that the morning papers will have the news.'' + +Jane's thoughts were flying--but in circles. Everybody +habitually judges everybody else as both more and less acute than +he really is. Jane had great respect for Davy as a man of +college education. But because he had no sense of humor and +because he abounded in lengthy platitudes she had thought poorly +indeed of his abilities. She had been realizing her mistake in +these last few minutes. The man who had made that analysis of +politics--an analysis which suddenly enlighted her as to what +political power meant and how it was wielded everywhere on earth +as well as in Remsen City--the man was no mere dreamer and +theorist. He had seen the point no less clearly than had Victor +Dorn. But what concerned her, what set her to fluttering, was +that he was about to checkmate Victor Dorn. What should she say +and do to help Victor? + +She must get her father away. She took him gently by the arm, +kissed the top of his head. ``Come on, father,'' she cried. +``I'll let Davy work his excitement off on me. You must take +care of your health.'' + +But Hastings resisted. ``Wait a minute, Jenny,'' said he. ``I +must think.'' + +``You can think lying down,'' insisted his daughter Davy was +about to interpose again, but she frowned him into silence. + +``There's something in what Davy says,'' persisted her father. +``If that there Victor Dorn should carry the election, there'd be +no living in the same town with him. It'd put him away up out of +reach.'' + +Jane abruptly released her father's arm. She had not thought of +that--of how much more difficult Victor would be if he won now. +She wanted him to win ultimately--yes, she was sure she did. +But--now? Wouldn't that put him beyond her reach--beyond need of +her? + +She said: ``Please come, father!'' But it was perfunctory +loyalty to Victor. Her father settled back; Davy Hull began +afresh, pressing home his point, making his contention so clear +that even Martin Hastings' prejudice could not blind him to the +truth. And Jane sat on the arm of a big veranda chair and +listened and made no further effort to interfere. + +``I don't agree with you, Hull,'' said the old man at last. +``Victor Dorn's run up agin the law at last, and he ought to get +the consequences good and hard. But----'' + +``Mr. Hastings,'' interrupted Davy eagerly--too fond of talking +to realize that the old man was agreeing with him, ``Your +daughter saw----'' + +``Fiddle-fiddle,'' cried the old man. ``Don't bring sentimental +women into this, Davy. As I was saying, Victor ought to be +punished for the way he's been stirring up idle, lazy, ignorant +people against the men that runs the community and gives 'em jobs +and food for their children. But maybe it ain't wise to give him +his deserts--just now. Anyhow, while you've been talking away +like a sewing machine I've been thinking. I don't see as how it +can do any serious HARM to stop them there indictments.'' + +``That's it, Mr. Hastings,'' cried Hull. ``Even if I do +exaggerate, as you seem to think, still where's the harm in doing +it?'' + +``It looks as if the respectable people were afraid of the lower +classes,'' said Hastings doubtfully. ``And that's always bad.'' + +``But it won't look that way,'' replied Davy, ``if my plan is +followed.'' + +``And what might be your plan?'' inquired Hastings. + +``I'm to be the reform candidate for Mayor. Your son-in-law, +Hugo, is to be the reform candidate for judge. The way to handle +this is for me to come out in a strong statement denouncing the +indictments, and the injunction against the League and the New +Day, too. And I'll announce that Hugo Galland is trying to join +in the fight against them and that he is indignant and as +determined as I am. Then early to-morrow morning we can go +before Judge Lansing and can present arguments, and he will +denounce the other side for misleading him as to the facts, and +will quash the indictments and vacate the injunctions.'' + +Hastings nodded reflectively. ``Pretty good,'' said he with a +sly grin. ``And Davy Hull and my son-in- law will be popular +heroes.'' + +Davy reddened. ``Of course. I want to get all the advantage I +can for our party,'' said he. ``I don't represent myself. I +represent the party.'' + +Martin grinned more broadly. He who had been representing +``honest taxpayers'' and ``innocent owners'' of corrupt stock and +bonds all his life understood perfectly. ``It's hardly human to +be as unselfish as you and I are, Davy,'' said he. ``Well, I'll +go in and do a little telephoning. You go ahead and draw up your +statement and get it to the papers--and see Hugo.'' He rose, +stood leaning on his cane, all bent and shrivelled and dry. ``I +reckon Judge Lansing'll be expecting you to-morrow morning.'' He +turned to enter the house, halted, crooked his head round for a +piercing look at young Hull. ``Don't go talking round among your +friends about what you're going to do,'' said he sharply. +``Don't let NOBODY know until it's done.'' + +``Certainly, sir,'' said Davy. + +``I could see you hurrying down to that there University Club to +sit there and tell it all to those smarties that are always +blowing about what they're going to do. You'll be right smart of +a man some day, Davy, if you'll learn to keep your mouth shut.'' + +Davy looked abashed. He did not know which of his many +indiscretions of self-glorifying talkativeness Mr. Hastings had +immediately in mind. But he could recall several, any one of +which was justification for the rather savage rebuke--the more +humiliating that Jane was listening. He glanced covertly at her. + +Perhaps she had not heard; she was gazing into the distance with +a strange expression upon her beautiful face, an expression that +fastened his attention, absorbed though he was in his project for +his own ambitions. As her father disappeared, he said: + +``What are you thinking about, Jane?'' + +Jane startled guiltily. ``I? Oh--I don't know--a lot of +things.'' + +``Your look suggested that you were having a--a severe attack of +conscience,'' said he, laughingly. He was in soaring good humor +now, for he saw his way clear to election. + +``I was,'' said Jane, suddenly stern. A pause, then she +laughed--rather hollowly. ``Davy, I guess I'm almost as big a +fraud as you are. What fakirs we human beings are?--always +posing as doing for others and always doing for our selfish +selves.'' + +Davy's face took on its finest expression. ``Do you think it's +altogether selfishness for me to fight for Victor Dorn and give +him a chance to get out his paper again--when he has warned me +that he is going to print things that may defeat me?'' + +``You know he'll not print them now,'' retorted Jane. + +``Indeed I don't. He's not so forbearing.'' + +``You know he'll not print them now,'' repeated Jane. ``He'd not +be so foolish. Every one would forget to ask whether what he +said about you was true or false. They'd think only of how +ungenerous and ungrateful he was. He wouldn't be either. But +he'd seem to be--and that comes to the same thing.'' She glanced +mockingly at Hull. ``Isn't that your calculation?'' + +``You are too cynical for a woman, Jane,'' said Davy. ``It's not +attractive.'' + +``To your vanity?'' retorted Jane. ``I should think not.'' + +``Well--good-by,'' said Davy, taking his hat from the rail. +``I've got a hard evening's work before me. No time for +dinner.'' + +``Another terrible sacrifice for public duty,'' mocked Jane. + +``You must be frightfully out of humor with yourself, to be +girding at me so savagely,'' said Davy. + +``Good-by, Mr. Mayor.'' + +``I shall be--in six weeks.'' + +Jane's face grew sombre. ``Yes--I suppose so,'' said she. ``The +people would rather have one of us than one of their own kind. +They do look up to us, don't they? It's ridiculous of them, but +they do. The idea of choosing you, when they might have Victor +Dorn.'' + +``He isn't running for Mayor,'' objected Hull. ``The League's +candidate is Harbinger, the builder.'' + +``No, it's Victor Dorn,'' said Jane. ``The best man in a +party--the strongest man--is always the candidate for all the +offices. I don't know much about politics, but I've learned that +much. . . . It's Victor Dorn against--Dick Kelly--or Kelly and +father.'' + +Hull reddened. She had cut into quick. ``You will see who is +Mayor when I'm elected,'' said he with all his dignity. + +Jane laughed in the disagreeably mocking way that was the climax +of her ability to be nasty when she was thoroughly out of humor. +``That's right, Davy. Deceive yourself. It's far more +comfortable. So long!'' + +And she went into the house. + + +Davy's conduct of the affair was masterly. He showed those rare +qualities of judgment and diplomacy that all but insure a man a +distinguished career. His statement for the press was a model of +dignity, of restrained indignation, of good common sense. The +most difficult part of his task was getting Hugo Galland into +condition for a creditable appearance in court. In so far as +Hugo's meagre intellect, atrophied by education and by luxury, +permitted him to be a lawyer at all, he was of that now common +type called the corporation lawyer. That is, for him human +beings had ceased to exist, and of course human rights, also; the +world as viewed from the standpoint of law contained only +corporations, only interests. Thus, a man like Victor Dorn was +in his view the modern form of the devil--was a combination of +knave and lunatic who had no right to live except in the +restraint of an asylum or a jail. + +Fortunately, while Hugo despised the ``hoi polloi'' as only a +stupid, miseducated snob can despise, he appreciated that they +had votes and so must be conciliated; and he yearned with the +snob's famished yearning for the title and dignity of judge. +Davy found it impossible to convince him that the injunctions and +indictments ought to be attacked until he had convinced him that +in no other way could he become Judge Galland. As Hugo was +fiercely prejudiced and densely stupid and reverent of the powers +of his own intellect, to convince him was not easy. In fact, +Davy did not begin to succeed until he began to suggest that +whoever appeared before Judge Lansing the next morning in defense +of free speech would be the Alliance and Democratic and +Republican candidate for judge, and that if Hugo couldn't see his +way clear to appearing he might as well give up for the present +his political ambitions. + +Hugo came round. Davy left him at one o'clock in the morning and +went gloomily home. He had known what a prejudiced ass Galland +was, how unfit he was for the office of judge; but he had up to +that time hidden the full truth from himself. Now, to hide it +was impossible. Hugo had fully exposed himself in all his +unfitness of the man of narrow upper class prejudices, the man of +no instinct or enthusiasm for right, justice and liberty. +``Really, it's a crime to nominate such a chap as that,'' he +muttered. ``Yet we've got to do it. How Selma Gordon's eyes +would shame me, if she could see me now!'' + +Davy had the familiar fondness for laying on the secret +penitential scourge--wherewith we buy from our complacent +consciences license to indulge in the sins our appetites or +ambitions crave. + +Judge Lansing--you have never seen a man who LOOKED the judge +more ideally than did gray haired, gray bearded, open browed +Robert Lansing--Judge Lansing was all ready for his part in the +farce. He knew Hugo and helped him over the difficult places and +cut him short as soon as he had made enough of his speech to give +an inkling of what he was demanding. The Judge was persuaded to +deliver himself of a high-minded and eloquent denunciation of +those who had misled the court and the county prosecutor. He +pointed out--in weighty judicial language--that Victor Dorn had +by his conduct during several years invited just such a series of +calamities as had beset him. But he went on to say that Dorn's +reputation and fondness for speech and action bordering on the +lawless did not withdraw from him the protection of the law. In +spite of himself the law would protect him. The injunctions were +dissolved and the indictments were quashed. + +The news of the impending application, published in the morning +papers, had crowded the court room. When the Judge finished a +tremendous cheer went up. The cheer passed on to the throng +outside, and when Davy and Hugo appeared in the corridor they +were borne upon the shoulders of workingmen and were not released +until they had made speeches. Davy's manly simplicity and +clearness covered the stammering vagueness of hero Galland. + +As Davy was gradually clearing himself of the eager handshakers +and back-slappers, Selma suddenly appeared before him. Her eyes +were shining and her whole body seemed to be irradiating emotion +of admiration and gratitude. ``Thank you--oh, thank you!'' she +said, pressing his hand. ``How I have misjudged you!'' + +Davy did not wince. He had now quite forgotten the part selfish +ambition had played in his gallant rush to the defense of +imperilled freedom--had forgotten it as completely as the now +ecstatic Hugo had forgotten his prejudices against the ``low, +smelly working people.'' He looked as exalted as he felt. ``I +only did my plain duty,'' replied he. ``How could any decent +American have done less?'' + +``I haven't seen Victor since yesterday afternoon,'' pursued +Selma. ``But I know how grateful he'll be-- not so much for what +you did as that YOU did it.'' + +The instinct of the crowd--the universal human instinct--against +intruding upon a young man and young woman talking together soon +cleared them of neighbors. An awkward silence fell. Said he +hesitatingly: + +``Are you ready to give your answer?--to that question I asked +you the other day.'' + +``I gave you my answer then,'' replied she, her glance seeking a +way of escape. + +``No,'' said he. ``For you said then that you would not marry +me. And I shall never take no for an answer until you have +married some one else.'' + +She looked up at him with eyes large and grave and puzzled. +``I'm sure you don't want to marry me,'' she said. ``I wonder +why you keep asking me.'' + +``I have to be honest with you,'' said Davy. ``Somehow you bring +out all the good there is in me. So, I can't conceal anything +from you. In a way I don't want to marry you. You're not at all +the woman I have always pictured as the sort I ought to marry and +would marry. But--Selma, I love you. I'd give up anything--even +my career--to get you. When I'm away from you I seem to regain +control of myself. But just as soon as I see you, I'm as bad as +ever again.'' + +``Then we mustn't see each other,'' said she. + +Suddenly she nodded, laughed up at him and darted away --and Hugo +Galland, long since abandoned by the crowd, had seized him by the +arm. + +Selma debated whether to take Victor the news or to continue her +walk. She decided for the walk. She had been feeling peculiarly +toward Victor since the previous afternoon. She had not gone +back in the evening, but had sent an excuse by one of the +Leaguers. It was plain to her that Jane Hastings was up to +mischief, and she had begun to fear--sacrilegious though she felt +it to be to harbor such a suspicion-- that there was man enough, +weak, vain, susceptible man enough, in Victor Dorn to make Jane a +danger. The more she had thought about Jane and her environment, +the clearer it had become that there could be no permanent and +deep sincerity in Jane's aspirations after emancipation from her +class. It was simply the old, old story of a woman of the upper +class becoming infatuated with a man of a genuine kind of manhood +rarely found in the languor-producing surroundings of her own +class. Would Victor yield? No! her loyalty indignantly +answered. But he might allow this useless idler to hamper him, +to weaken his energies for the time--and during a critical +period. + +She did not wish to see Victor again until she should have +decided what course to take. To think at her ease she walked out +Monroe Avenue on her way to the country. It was a hot day, but +walking along in the beautiful shade Selma felt no discomfort, +except a slight burning of the eyes from the fierce glare of the +white highway. In the distance she heard the sound of an engine. + +A few seconds, and past her at high speed swept an automobile. +Its heavy flying wheels tore up the roadway, raised an enormous +cloud of dust. The charm of the walk was gone; the usefulness of +roadway and footpaths was destroyed for everybody for the fifteen +or twenty minutes that it would take for the mass of dust to +settle--on the foliage, in the grass, on the bodies and clothing +of passers-by and in their lungs. Selma halted and gazed after +the auto. Who was tearing along at this mad speed? Who was +destroying the comfort of all using that road, and annoying them +and making the air unfit to breathe! Why, an idle, luxuriously +dressed woman, not on an errand of life or death, but going down +town to amuse herself shopping or calling. + +The dust had not settled before a second auto, having a young man +and young woman apparently on the way to play tennis, rushed by, +swirling up even vaster clouds of dust and all but colliding with +a baby carriage a woman was trying to push across the street. +Selma's blood was boiling! The infamy of it! These worthless +idlers! What utter lack of manners, of consideration for their +fellow beings. A GENTLEMAN and a LADY insulting and bullying +everyone who happened not to have an automobile. Then--she +laughed. The ignorant, stupid masses! They deserved to be +treated thus contemptuously, for they could stop it if they +would. ``Some day we shall learn,'' philosophized she. ``Then +these brutalities of men toward each other, these brutalities big +and little, will cease.'' This matter of the insulting +automobiles, with insolent horns and criminal folly of speed and +hurling dust at passers-by, worse than if the occupants had spat +upon them in passing--this matter was a trifle beside the hideous +brutalities of men compelling masses of their fellow beings, +children no less than grown people, to toil at things killing +soul, mind and body simply in order that fortunes might be made! +THERE was lack of consideration worth thinking about. + +Three more autos passed--three more clouds of dust, reducing +Selma to extreme physical discomfort. Her philosophy was +severely strained. She was in the country now; but even there +she was pursued by these insolent and insulting hunters of +pleasure utterly indifferent to the comfort of their fellows. +And when a fourth auto passed, bearing Jane Hastings in a +charming new dress and big, becoming hat--Selma, eyes and throat +full of dust and face and neck and hands streaked and dirty, +quite lost her temper. Jane spoke; she turned her head away, +pretending not to see! + +Presently she heard an auto coming at a less menacing pace from +the opposite direction. It drew up to the edge of the road +abreast of her. ``Selma,'' called Jane. + +Selma paused, bent a frowning and angry countenance upon Jane. + +Jane opened the door of the limousine, descended, said to her +chauffeur: ``Follow us, please.'' She advanced to Selma with a +timid and deprecating smile. ``You'll let me walk with you?'' +she said. + +``I am thinking out a very important matter,'' replied Selma, +with frank hostility. ``I prefer not to be interrupted.'' + +``Selma!'' pleaded Jane. ``What have I done to turn you against +me?'' + +Selma stood, silent, incarnation of freedom and will. She looked +steadily at Jane. ``You haven't done anything,'' she replied. +``On impulse I liked you. On sober second thought I don't. +That's all.'' + +``You gave me your friendship,'' said Jane. ``You've no right to +withdraw it without telling me why.'' + +``You are not of my class. You are of the class that is at war +with mine--at war upon it. When you talk of friendship to me, +you are either false to your own people or false in your +professions to me.'' + +Selma's manner was rudely offensive--as rude as Jane's dust, to +which it was perhaps a retort. Jane showed marvelous restraint. +She told herself that she felt compassionate toward this +attractive, honest, really nice girl. It is possible, however, +that an instinct of prudence may have had something to do with +her ultra- conciliatory attitude toward the dusty little woman in +the cheap linen dress. The enmity of one so near to Victor Dorn +was certainly not an advantage. Instead of flaring up, Jane +said: + +``Now, Selma--do be human--do be your sweet, natural self. It +isn't my fault that I am what I am. And you know that I really +belong heart and soul with you.'' + +``Then come with us,'' said Selma. ``If you think the life you +lead is foolish--why, stop leading it.'' + +``You know I can't,'' said Jane mournfully. + +``I know you could,'' retorted Selma. ``Don't be a hypocrite, +Jane.'' + +``Selma--how harsh you are!'' cried Jane. + +``Either come with us or keep away from us,'' said the girl +inflexibly. ``You may deceive yourself--and men--with that talk +of broad views and high aspirations. But you can't deceive +another woman.'' + +``I'm not trying to deceive anybody,'' exclaimed Jane angrily. +``Permit me to say, Selma, that your methods won't make many +converts to your cause.'' + +``Who ever gave you the idea that we were seeking converts in +your class?'' inquired Selma. ``Our whole object is to abolish +your class--and end its drain upon us--and its bad example--and +make its members useful members of our class, and more contented +and happier than they are now.'' She laughed--a free and merry +laugh, but not pleasant in Jane's ears. ``The idea of US trying +to induce young ladies and young gentlemen with polished finger +nails to sit round in drawing-rooms talking patronizingly of +doing something for the masses! You've got a very queer notion +of us, my dear Miss Hastings.'' + +Jane's eyes were flashing. ``Selma, there's a devil in you +to-day. What is it?'' she demanded. + +``There's a great deal of dust from your automobile in me and on +me,'' said Selma. ``I congratulate you on your good manners in +rushing about spattering and befouling your fellow beings and +threatening their lives.'' + +Jane colored and lowered her head. ``I--I never thought of that +before,'' she said humbly. + +Selma's anger suddenly dissolved. ``I'm ashamed of myself,'' she +cried. ``Forgive me.'' + +What she had said about the automobile had made an instant deep +impression upon Jane, who was honestly trying to live up to her +aspirations--when she wasn't giving up the effort as hopelessly +beyond her powers and trying to content herself with just +aspiring. She was not hypocritical in her contrition. The dust +disfiguring the foliage, streaking Selma's face and hair, was +forcing the lesson in manners vigorously home. ``I'm much +obliged to you for teaching me what I ought to have learned for +myself,'' she said. ``I don't blame you for scorning me. I am a +pretty poor excuse. But''--with her most charming smile-- ``I'll +do better--all the faster if you'll help me.'' + +Selma looked at her with a frank, dismayed contrition, like a +child that realizes it has done something very foolish. ``Oh, +I'm so horribly impulsive!'' she cried. ``It's always getting me +into trouble. You don't know how I try Victor Dorn's +patience--though he never makes the least sign.'' She laughed up +at Jane. ``I wish you'd give me a whipping. I'd feel lots +better.'' + +``It'd take some of my dust off you,'' said Jane. ``Let me take +you to the house in the auto--you'll never see it going at that +speed again, I promise. Come to the house and I'll dust you +off--and we'll go for a walk in the woods.'' + +Selma felt that she owed it to Jane to accept. As they were +climbing the hill in the auto, Selma said: + +``My, how comfortable this is! No wonder the people that have +autos stop exercising and get fat and sick and die. I couldn't +trust myself with one.'' + +``It's a daily fight,'' confessed Jane. ``If I were married and +didn't have to think about my looks and my figure I'm afraid I'd +give up.'' + +``Victor says the only time one ought ever to ride in a carriage +is to his own funeral.'' + +``He's down on show and luxury of every kind-- isn't he?'' said +Jane. + +``No, indeed,'' replied Selma. ``Victor isn't `down on' +anything. He thinks show and luxury are silly. He could be rich +if he wished, for he has wonderful talent for managing things and +for making money. He has refused some of the most wonderful +offers--wonderful in that way. But he thinks money-making a +waste of time. He has all he wants, and he says he'd as soon +think of eating a second dinner when he'd just had one as of +exchanging time that could be LIVED for a lot of foolish +dollars.'' + +``And he meant it, too,'' said Jane. ``In some men that would +sound like pretense. But not in him. What a mind he has--and +what a character!'' + +Selma was abruptly overcast and ominously silent. She wished she +had not been turned so far by her impulse of penitence--wished +she had held to the calm and deliberate part of her resolve about +Jane--the part that involved keeping aloof from her. However, +Jane, the tactful--hastened to shift the conversation to +generalities of the softest kinds--talked about her college +life--about the inane and useless education they had given +her--drew Selma out to talk about her own education--in the +tenement--in the public school, at night school, in factory and +shop. Not until they had been walking in the woods nearly two +hours and Selma was about to go home, did Victor, about whom both +were thinking all the time, come into the conversation again. It +was Jane who could no longer keep away from the subject--the one +subject that wholly interested her nowadays. Said she: + +``Victor Dorn is REALLY almost well, you think?'' + +After a significant pause Selma said in a tone that was certainly +not encouraging, ``Obviously.'' + +``I was altogether wrong about Doctor Charlton,'' said Jane. +``I'm convinced now that he's the only really intelligent doctor +in town. I'm trying to persuade father to change to him.'' + +``Well, good-by,'' said Selma. She was eager to get away, for +she suddenly felt that Jane was determined to talk about Victor +before letting her go. + +``You altered toward me when I made that confession--the night of +the riot,'' said Jane abruptly. ``Are you in love with him, +too?'' + +``No,'' said Selma. + +``I don't see how you could help being,'' cried Jane. + +``That's because you don't know what it is to be busy,'' retorted +Selma. ``Love--what you call love-- is one of the pastimes with +your sort of people. It's a lazy, easy way of occupying the +thoughts.'' + +``You don't know me as well as you think you do,'' said Jane. +Her expression fascinated Selma--and made her more afraid than +ever. + +Impulsively Selma took Jane by the arm. ``Keep away from us,'' +she said. ``You will do no good. You can only cause +unhappiness--perhaps most of all to yourself.'' + +``Don't I know that!'' exclaimed Jane. ``I'm fighting it as hard +as I can. But how little control one has over oneself when one +has always been indulged and self-indulgent.'' + +``The man for you is David Hull,'' said Selma. + +``You could help him--could make a great deal of a person out of +him.'' + +``I know it,'' replied Jane. ``But I don't want him, and +he--perhaps you didn't know that he is in love with you?'' + +``No more than you are with Victor Dorn,'' said Selma. ``I'm +different from the women he has known, just as Victor is +different from the men you meet in your class. But this is a +waste of time.'' + +``You don't believe in me at all,'' cried Jane. ``In some ways +you are very unjust and narrow, Selma.'' + +Selma looked at her in that grave way which seemed to compel +frankness. ``Do YOU believe in yourself?'' she asked. + +Jane's glance shifted. + +``You know you do not,'' proceeded Selma. ``The women of your +class rarely have sincere emotions because they do not lead +sincere lives. Part of your imaginary love for Victor Dorn is +desire to fill up idle hours. The rest of it is vanity--the +desire to show your power over a man who seems to be +woman-proof.'' She laughed a little, turned away, paused. ``My +mother used to quote a French proverb--`One cannot trifle with +love.' Be careful, Jane--for your own sake. I don't know +whether you could conquer Victor Dorn or not. But I do know IF +you could conquer him it would be only at the usual price of +those conquests to a woman.'' + +``And what is that?'' said Jane. + +``Your own complete surrender,'' said Selma. + +``How wise you are!'' laughed Jane. ``Who would have suspected +you of knowing so much!'' + +``How could I--a woman--and not unattractive to men--grow up to +be twenty-one years old, in the free life of a working woman, +without learning all there is to know about sex relations?'' + +Jane looked at her with a new interest. + +``And,'' she went on, ``I've learned--not by experience, I'm glad +to say, but by observation--that my mother's proverb is true. I +shall not think about love until I am compelled to. That is a +peril a sensible person does not seek.'' + +``I did not seek it,'' cried Jane--and then she halted and +flushed. + +``Good-by, Jane,'' said Selma, waving her hand and moving away +rapidly. She called back--``On ne badine pas avec l'amour!'' + +She went straight to Colman's cottage--to Victor, lying very pale +with his eyes shut, and big Tom Colman sitting by his bed. There +was a stillness in the room that Selma felt was ominous. +Victor's hand--strong, well-shaped, useful-looking, +used-looking--not ABUSED- looking, but USED-looking-was outside +the covers upon the white counterpane. The fingers were drumming +softly; Selma knew that gesture--a certain sign that Victor was +troubled in mind. + +``You've told him,'' said Selma to Colman as she paused in the +doorway. + +Victor turned his head quickly, opened his eyes, gave her a look +of welcome that made her thrill with pride. ``Oh--there you +are!'' he exclaimed. ``I was hoping you'd come.'' + +``I saw David Hull just after it was done,'' said Selma. ``And I +thanked him for you.'' + +Victor's eyes had a look of amusement, of mockery. ``Thank +you,'' he said. + +She, the sensitive, was on the alert at once. ``Didn't you want +me to thank him?'' + +Victor did not answer. In the same amused way he went on: ``So +they carried him on their shoulders --him and that other defender +of the rights of the people, Hugo Galland? I should like to have +seen. It was a memorable spectacle.'' + +``You are laughing at it,'' exclaimed the girl. ``Why?'' + +``You certainly are taking the news very queer, Victor,'' said +Colman. Then to Selma, ``When I told him he got white and I +thought I'd have to send for Doctor Charlton.'' + +``Well--joy never kills,'' said Victor mockingly. ``I don't want +to keep you, Tom--Selma'll sit with me.'' + +When they were alone, Victor again closed his eyes and resumed +that silent drumming upon the counterpane. Selma watched the +restless fingers as if she hoped they would disclose to her the +puzzling secret of Victor's thoughts. But she did not interrupt. + +That was one lesson in restraint that Victor had succeeded in +teaching her--never to interrupt. At last he heaved a great sigh +and said: + +``Well, Selma, old girl--we've probably lost again. I was glad +you came because I wanted to talk--and I can't say what's in my +mind before dear old Tom--or any of them but my sister and you.'' + +``You didn't want those injunctions and indictments out of the +way?'' said Selma. + +``If they had stood, we'd have won--in a walk,'' replied Victor. +``As the cards lie now, David Hull will win. And he'll make a +pretty good show mayor, probably-- good enough to fool a large +majority of our fellow citizens, who are politically as shallow +and credulous as nursery children. And so--our work of educating +them will be the harder and slower. Oh, these David +Hulls!--these good men who keep their mantles spotless in order +to make them the more useful as covers for the dirty work of +others!'' Suddenly his merry smile burst out. ``And they carried +Hugo Galland on their shoulders?'' + +``Then you don't think Hull's motives were honorable?'' inquired +Selma, perplexed and anxious. + +``How could I know his motives?--any man's motives?'' replied +Victor. ``No one can read men's hearts. All I ever consider is +actions. And the result of his actions is probably the defeat of +the League and the election of Dick Kelly.'' + +``I begin to understand,'' said Selma thoughtfully. ``But--I do +believe his motive was altogether good.'' + +``My dear girl,'' said Victor, ``the primer lesson in the life of +action is: `Never--NEVER look at motives. Action--only +actions--always actions.' The chief reason the human race is led +patiently round by the nose is its fondness for fussing about +motives. We are interested only in men's actions and the results +to our cause. Davy Hull's motives concern only himself-- and +those who care for him.'' Victor's eyes, twinkling +mischievously, shot a shrewd glance at Selma. ``You're not by +any chance in love with Davy?'' + +Selma colored high. ``Certainly not!'' she exclaimed +indignantly. + +``Why not? Why not?'' teased Victor. ``He's tall and +handsome--and superbly solemn--and women always fancy a solemn +man has intellect and character. Not that Davy is a fool--by no +means. I'd be the last man to say that--I whom he has just +cleverly checkmated in one move.'' + +``You intended not to give bail! You intended to go to jail!'' +exclaimed Selma abruptly. ``I see it all! How stupid I was! +Oh, I could cry, Victor! What a chance.'' + +``Spilt milk,'' said Victor. ``We must forget it, and plan to +meet the new conditions. We'll start the paper at once. We +can't attack him. Very clever of him-- very clever! If he were +as brave as he is shrewd, I'd almost give up hope of winning this +town while he was in politics here. But he lacks courage. And +he daren't think and speak honestly. How that does cripple a +man!'' + +``He'll be one of us before very long,'' said Selma. ``You +misjudge him, Victor.'' + +Dorn smiled. ``Not so long as his own class gratifies his +ambitions,'' replied Victor. ``If he came with us it'd be +because his own class had failed him and he hoped to rise through +and upon--ours.'' + +Selma did not agree with him. But as she always felt +presumptuous and even foolish in disagreeing with Victor, she +kept silent. And presently Victor began to lay out her share in +the task of starting up the New Day. ``I shall be all right +within a week,'' said he, ``and we must get the first number out +the week following.'' She was realizing now that Hull's move had +completely upset an elaborate plan of campaign into which Victor +had put all his intelligence and upon which he had staked all his +hopes. She marvelled as he talked, unfolding rapidly an entirely +new campaign, different in every respect from what the other +would have been. How swiftly his mind had worked, and how well! +How little time he had wasted in vain regrets! How quickly he +had recovered from a reverse that would have halted many a strong +man. + +And then she remembered how they all, his associates, were like +him, proof against the evil effects of set-back and defeat. And +why were they so? Because Victor Dorn had trained them to fight +for the cause, and not for victory. ``Our cause is the right, +and in the end right is bound to win because the right is only +another name for the sensible''--that had been his teaching. And +a hardy army he had trained. The armies trained by victory are +strong; but the armies schooled by defeat--they are invincible. + +When he had explained his new campaign--as much of it as he +deemed it wise at that time to withdraw from the security of his +own brain--she said: + +``But it seems to me we've got a good chance to win, anyhow.'' + +``A chance, perhaps,'' replied he. ``But we'll not bother about +that. All we've got to do is to keep on strengthening +ourselves.'' + +``Yes, that's it!'' she cried. ``One added here--five there--ten +yonder. Every new stone fitted solidly against the ones already +in place.'' + +``We must never forget that we aren't merely building a new +party,'' said Dorn. ``We're building a new civilization--one to +fit the new conditions of life. Let the Davy Hulls patch and +tinker away at trying to keep the old structure from falling in. +We know it's bound to fall and that it isn't fit for decent +civilized human beings to live in. And we're getting the new +house ready. So--to us, election day is no more important than +any of the three hundred and sixty-five.'' + + +It was into the presence of a Victor Dorn restored in mind as +well as in body that Jane Hastings was shown by his sister, Mrs. +Sherrill, one afternoon a week or so later. + +All that time Jane had been searching for an excuse for going to +see him. She had haunted the roads and the woods where he and +Selma habitually walked. She had seen neither of them. When the +pretext for a call finally came to her, as usual, the most +obvious thing in the world. He must be suspecting her of having +betrayed his confidence and brought about the vacating of those +injunctions and the quashing of the indictments. She must go to +him and clear herself of suspicion. + +She felt that the question of how she should dress for this +crucial interview, this attempt to establish some sort of +friendly relations with him, was of the very highest importance. +Should she wear something plain, something that would make her +look as nearly as might be like one of his own class? HIS class! + +No --no, indeed. The class in which he was accidentally born and +bred, but to which he did not belong. Or, should she go dressed +frankly as of her own class-- wearing the sort of things that +made her look her finest and most superior and most beautiful? +Having nothing else to do, she spent several hours in trying +various toilets. She was not long in deciding against disguising +herself as a working woman. That garb might win his mental and +moral approval; but not by mental and moral ways did women and +men prevail with each other. In plain garb--so Jane decided, as +she inspected herself--she was no match for Selma Gordon; she +looked awkward, out of her element. So much being settled, there +remained to choose among her various toilets. She decided for an +embroidered white summer dress, extremely simple, but in the way +that costs beyond the power of any but the very rich to afford. +When she was ready to set forth, she had never looked so well in +her life. Her toilet SEEMED a mere detail. In fact, it was some +such subtlety as those arrangements of lines and colors in great +pictures, whereby the glance of the beholder is unconsciously +compelled toward the central figure, just as water in a funnel +must go toward the aperture at the bottom. Jane felt, not +without reason, that she had executed a stroke of genius. She +was wearing nothing that could awaken Victor Dorn's prejudices +about fine clothes, for he must have those prejudices. Yet she +was dressed in conformity with all that centuries, ages of +experience, have taught the dressmaking art on the subject of +feminine allure. And, when a woman feels that she is so dressed, +her natural allure becomes greatly enhanced. + +She drove down to a point in Monroe Avenue not far from the house +where Victor and his family lived. The day was hot; boss-ridden +Remsen City had dusty and ragged streets and sidewalks. It, +therefore, would not do to endanger the freshness of the toilet. +But she would arrive as if she had come all the way on foot. +Arrival in a motor at so humble a house would look like +ostentation; also, if she were seen going through that street +afoot, people would think she was merely strolling a little out +of her way to view the ruins of the buildings set on fire by the +mob. She did pause to look at these ruins; the air of the +neighborhood still had a taint of burnt wood and paper. +Presently, when she was sure the street was clear of people of +the sort who might talk--she hastily entered the tiny front yard +of Victor's house, and was pleased to find herself immediately +screened from the street by the luxuriant bushes and creepers. + +There was nothing in the least pretentious about the appearance +of the little house. It was simply a well built cottage--but of +brick, instead of the usual wood, and the slate roof descended at +attractive angles. The door she was facing was superior to the +usual flimsy-looking door. Indeed, she at once became conscious +of a highly attractive and most unexpected air of substantiality +and good taste. The people who lived here seemed to be permanent +people--long resident, and looking forward to long residence. +She had never seen such beautiful or such tastefully grouped sun +flowers, and the dahlias and marigolds were far above the +familiar commonplace kitchen garden flowers. + +The door opened, and a handsome, extremely intelligent looking +woman, obviously Victor's sister, was looking pleasantly at her. +Said she: ``I'm sorry to have kept you waiting. But I was busy +in the kitchen. This is Miss Hastings, isn't it?'' + +``Yes,'' said Jane, smiling friendlily. + +``I've heard my brother and Selma talk of you.'' (Jane wondered +WHAT they had said.) ``You wish to see Victor?'' + +``If I'd not be interrupting,'' said Jane. + +``Come right in. He's used to being interrupted. They don't +give him five minutes to himself all day long--especially now +that the campaign's on. He always does his serious work very +early in the morning.'' + +They went through a hall, pleasantly odorous of baking in which +good flour and good butter and good eggs were being manufactured +into something probably appetizing, certainly wholesome. Jane +caught a glimpse through open doors on either side of a neat and +reposeful little library-sitting room, a plain delightfully +simple little bedroom, a kitchen where everything shone. She +arrived at the rear door somehow depressed, bereft of the feeling +of upper-class superiority which had, perhaps unconsciously, +possessed her as she came toward the house. At the far end of an +arbor on which the grape vines were so trellised that their broad +leaves cast a perfect shade, sat Victor writing at a table under +a tree. He was in his shirt sleeves, and his shirt was open at +the throat. His skin was smooth and healthily white below the +collar line. The forearms exposed by his rolled up sleeves were +strong but slender, and the faint fair hair upon them suggested a +man, but not an animal. + +Never had she seen his face and head so fine. He was writing +rapidly, his body easily erect, his head and neck in a poise of +grace and strength. Jane grew pale and trembled--so much so that +she was afraid the keen, friendly eyes of Alice Sherrill were +seeing. Said Mrs. Sherrill, raising her voice: + +``Victor--here's Miss Hastings come to see you.'' Then to Jane: +``Excuse me, please. I don't dare leave that kitchen long.'' + +She departed. Jane waited while Victor, his pencil reluctantly +slackening and his glance lingeringly rising from the paper, came +back to sense of his surroundings. He stared at her blankly, +then colored a little. He rose--stiff, for him formal. Said he: + +``How d'you do, Miss Hastings?'' + +She came down the arbor, recovering her assurance as she again +became conscious of herself, so charmingly dressed and no doubt +beautiful in his eyes. ``I know you're not glad to see me,'' +said she. ``But I'm only stopping a very little minute.'' + +His eyes had softened--softened under the influence of the +emotion no man can ever fail to feel at least in some degree at +sight of a lovely woman. ``Won't you sit?'' said he, with a +glance at the wooden chair near the other side of the table. + +She seated herself, resting one gloved hand on the prettily +carved end of her white-sunshade. She was wearing a big hat of +rough black straw, with a few very gorgeous white plumes. ``What +a delightful place to work,'' exclaimed she, looking round, +admiring the flowers, the slow ripening grapes, the delicious +shade. ``And you--how WELL you look!'' + +``I've forgotten I was ever anything but well,'' said he. + +``You're impatient for me to go,'' she cried laughing. ``It's +very rude to show it so plainly.'' + +``No,'' replied he. ``I am not impatient for you to go. But I +ought to be, for I'm very busy.'' + +``Well, I shall be gone in a moment. I came only to tell you +that you are suspecting me wrongly.'' + +``Suspecting you?--of what?'' + +``Of having broken my word. I know you must think I got father +to set Davy Hull on to upsetting your plans.'' + +``The idea never entered my head,'' said he. ``You had +promised--and I know you are honest.'' + +Jane colored violently and lowered her eyes. ``I'm not--not up +to what you say,'' she protested. ``But at least I didn't break +my promise. Davy thought of that himself.'' + +``I have been assuming so.'' + +``And you didn't suspect me?'' + +``Not for an instant,'' Victor assured her. ``Davy simply made +the move that was obviously best for him.'' + +``And now he will be elected,'' said Jane regretfully. + +``It looks that way,'' replied Victor. And he had the air of one +who has nothing more to say. + +Suddenly Jane looked at him with eyes shining and full of appeal. + +``Don't send me away so quickly,'' she pleaded. ``I've not been +telling the exact truth. I came only partly because I feared you +were suspecting me. The real reason was that--that I couldn't +stay away any longer. I know you're not in the least interested +in me----'' + +She was watching him narrowly for signs of contradiction. She +hoped she had not watched in vain. + +``Why should you be?'' she went on. ``But ever since you opened +my eyes and set me to thinking, I can do nothing but think about +the things you have said to me, and long to come to you and ask +you questions and hear more.'' + +Victor was staring hard into the wall of foliage. His face was +set. She thought she had never seen anything so resolute, so +repelling as the curve of his long jaw bone. + +``I'll go now,'' she said, making a pretended move toward rising. + +``I've no right to annoy you.'' + +He stood up abruptly, without looking at her. ``Yes, you'd +better go,'' he said curtly. + +She quivered--and it was with a pang of genuine pain. + +His gaze was not so far from her as it seemed. For he must have +noted her expression, since he said hurriedly: ``I beg your +pardon. It isn't that I mean to be rude. I--I--it is best that +I do not see you.'' + +She sank back in the chair with a sigh. ``And I--I know that I +ought to keep away from you. But--I can't. It's too strong for +me.'' + +He looked at her slowly. ``I have made up my mind to put you out +of my head,'' he said. ``And I shall.'' + +``Don't!'' she cried. ``Victor--don't!'' + +He sat again, rested his forearms upon the table, leaned toward +her. ``Look at me,'' he said. + +She slowly lifted her gaze to his, met it steadily. ``I thought +so, Victor,'' she said tenderly. ``I knew I couldn't care so +much unless you cared at least a little .'' + +``Do I?'' said he. ``I don't know. I doubt if either of us is +in love with the other. Certainly, you are not the sort of woman +I could love--deeply love. What I feel for you is the sort of +thing that passes. It is violent while it lasts, but it +passes.'' + +``I don't care!'' cried she recklessly. ``Whatever it is I want +it!'' + +He shook his head resolutely. ``No,'' he said. ``You don't want +it, and I don't want it. I know the kind of life you've mapped +out for yourself--as far as women of your class map out anything. + +It's the only kind of life possible to you. And it's of a kind +with which I could, and would, have nothing to do.'' + +``Why do you say that?'' protested she. ``You could make of me +what you pleased.'' + +``No,'' said he. ``I couldn't make a suit of overalls out of a +length of silk. Anyhow, I have made up my life with love and +marriage left out. They are excellent things for some people, +for most people. But not for me. I must be free, absolutely +free. Free to think only of the cause I've enlisted in, free to +do what it commands.'' + +``And I?'' she said with tremendous life. ``What is to become of +me, Victor?'' + +He laughed quietly. ``You are going to keep away from me--find +some one else to amuse your leisure. That's what's going to +become of you, Jane Hastings.'' + +She winced and quivered again. ``That--hurts,'' she said. + +``Your vanity? Yes. I suppose it does. But those wounds are +healthful--when the person is as sensible as you are.'' + +``You think I am not capable of caring! You think I am vain and +shallow and idle. You refuse me all right to live, simply +because I happen to live in surroundings you don't approve of.'' + +``I'm not such an egotistical ass as to imagine a woman of your +sort could be genuinely in love with a man of my sort,'' replied +he. ``So, I'll see to it that we keep away from each other. I +don't wish to be tempted to do you mischief.'' + +She looked at him inquiringly. + +But he did not explain. He said: ``And you are going now. And +we shall not meet again except by accident.'' + +She gave a sigh of hopelessness. ``I suppose I have lowered +myself in your eyes by being so frank--by showing and speaking +what I felt,'' she said mournfully. + +``Not in the least,'' rejoined he. ``A man who is anybody or has +anything soon gets used to frankness in women. I could hardly +have gotten past thirty, in a more or less conspicuous position, +without having had some experience. . . . and without learning +not to attach too much importance to--to frankness in women.'' + +She winced again. ``You wouldn't say those things if you knew +how they hurt,'' she said. ``If I didn't care for you, could I +sit here and let you laugh at me?'' + +``Yes, you could,'' answered he. ``Hoping somehow or other to +turn the laugh upon me later on. But really I was not laughing +at you. And you can spare yourself the effort of convincing me +that you're sincere.'' He was frankly laughing at her now. +``You don't understand the situation--not at all. You fancy that +I am hanging back because I am overwhelmed or shy or timid. I +assure you I've never been shy or timid about anything I wanted. +If I wanted you-- I'd--TAKE you.'' + +She caught her breath and shrank. Looking at him as he said +that, calmly and confidently, she, for the first time, was in +love--and was afraid. Back to her came Selma's warnings: ``One +may not trifle with love. A woman conquers only by surrender.'' + +``But, as I said to you a while ago,'' he went on, ``I don't want +you--or any woman. I've no time for marriage-- no time for a +flirtation. And though you tempt me strongly, I like you too +well to--to treat you as you invite.'' + +Jane sat motionless, stunned by the sudden turning of the tables. + +She who had come to conquer--to amuse herself, to evoke a strong, +hopeless passion that would give her a delightful sense of warmth +as she stood safely by its bright flames--she had been conquered. + +She belonged to this man; all he had to do was to claim her. + +In a low voice, sweet and sincere beyond any that had ever come +from her lips before, she said: + +``Anything, Victor--anything--but don't send me away.'' + +And he, seeing and hearing, lost his boasted self- control. +``Go--go,'' he cried harshly. ``If you don't go----'' He came +round the table, seizing her as she rose, kissed her upon the +lips, upon the eyes. ``You are lovely--lovely!'' he murmured. +``And I who can't have flowers on my table or in sight when I've +got anything serious to do--I love your perfume and your color +and the wonderful softness of you----'' + +He pushed her away. ``Now--will you go?'' he cried. + +His eyes were flashing. And she was trembling from head to foot. + +She was gazing at him with a fascinated expression. ``I +understand what you meant when you warned me to go,'' she said. +``I didn't believe it, but it was so.'' + +``Go--I tell you!'' he ordered. + +``It's too late,'' said she. ``You can't send me away now--for +you have kissed me. If I'm in your power, you're in my power, +too.'' + +Moved by the same impulse both looked up the arbor toward the +rear door of the house. There stood Selma Gordon, regarding them +with an expression of anger as wild as the blood of the steppes +that flowed in her veins. Victor, with what composure he could +master, put out his hand in farewell to Jane. He had been too +absorbed in the emotions raging between him and her to note +Selma's expression. But Jane, the woman, had seen. As she shook +hands with Victor, she said neither high nor low: + +``Selma knows that I care. I told her the night of the riot.'' + +``Good-by,'' said Victor in a tone she thought it wise not to +dispute. + +``I'll be in the woods above the park at ten tomorrow,'' she +said in an undertone. Then to Selma, unsmilingly: ``You're not +interrupting. I'm going.'' Selma advanced. The two girls +looked frank hostility into each other's eyes. Jane did not try +to shake hands with her. With a nod and a forced smile of +conventional friendliness upon her lips, she passed her and went +through the house and into the street. + +She lingered at the gate, opening and closing it in a most +leisurely fashion--a significantly different exit from her +furtive and ashamed entrance. Love and revolt were running high +and hot in her veins. She longed openly to defy the world--her +world. + + + +VII + + +Impulse was the dominant strain in Selma Gordon's +character--impulse and frankness. But she was afraid of Victor +Dorn as we all are afraid of those we deeply respect--those whose +respect is the mainstay of our self-confidence. She was moving +toward him to pour out the violence that was raging in her on the +subject of this flirtation of Jane Hastings. The spectacle of a +useless and insincere creature like that trifling with her deity, +and being permitted to trifle, was more than she could endure. +But Victor, dropping listlessly to his chair and reaching for his +pencil, was somehow a check upon her impetuousness. She paused +long enough to think the sobering second thought. To speak would +be both an impertinence and a folly. She owed it to the cause +and to her friend Victor to speak; but to speak at the wrong time +and in the wrong way would be worse than silence. + +Said he: ``I was finishing this when she came. I'll be done in +a minute. Please read what I've written and tell me what you +think.'' + +Selma took up the loose sheets of manuscript and stood reading +his inaugural of the new New Day. As she read she forgot the +petty matter that had so agitated her a moment before. This +salutatory--this address to the working class--this plan of a +campaign to take Remsen City out of the hands of its exploiters +and despoilers and make it a city fit for civilized residence and +worthy of its population of intelligent, progressive +workingmen--this leading editorial for the first number was +Victor Dorn at his greatest and best. The man of action with all +the enthusiasm of a dreamer. The shrewd, practical politician +with the outlook of a statesman. How honest and impassioned he +was; yet how free from folly and cant. Several times as she read +Selma lifted her eyes to look at him in generous, worshipful +admiration. She would not have dared let him see; she would not +have dared speak the phrases of adoration of his genius that +crowded to her lips. How he would have laughed at her--he who +thought about himself as a personality not at all, but only as an +instrument. + +``Here's the rest of it,'' said he, throwing himself back in his +chair and relighting his pipe. + +She finished a moment later, said as she laid the manuscript on +the table: ``That's the best you've ever done.'' + +``I think so,'' agreed he. ``It seems to me I've got a new grip +on things. I needed a turn such as your friend Davy Hull gave +me. Nothing like rivalry to spur a man on. The old crowd was so +stupid--cunning, but stupid. But Hull injects a new element into +the struggle. To beat him we've got to use our best brains.'' + +``We've got to attack him,'' said Selma. ``After all, he is the +enemy. We can't let him disarm us by an act of justice.'' + +``No, indeed,'' said Victor. ``But we'll have to be careful. +Here's what I'm going to carry on the first page.'' + +He held up a sheet of paper on which he had written with a view +to effective display the names of the four most offensive local +corporations with their contribution--$25,000 each--to the +campaign fund of the Citizens' Alliance. ``Under it, in big +type,'' proceeded he, ``we'll carry a line asking, `Is the +Citizens' Alliance fooling these four corporations or is it +fooling the people?' I think that will be more effective than +columns of attack.'' + +``We ought to get that out on wall-bills and dodgers,'' suggested +Selma, ``and deluge the town with it once or twice a week until +election.'' + +``Splendid!'' exclaimed Victor. ``I'll make a practical +politician of you yet.'' + +Colman and Harbinger and Jocelyn and several others of the League +leaders came in one at a time, and the plan of campaign was +developed in detail. But the force they chiefly relied upon was +the influence of their twelve hundred men, their four or five +thousand women and young men and girls, talking every day and +evening, each man or woman or youth with those with whom he came +into contact. This ``army of education'' was disciplined, was +educated, knew just what arguments to use, had been cautioned +against disputes, against arousing foolish antagonisms. The +League had nothing to conceal, no object to gain but the +government of Remsen City by and for its citizens--well paved, +well lighted, clean streets, sanitary houses, good and clean +street car service, honest gas, pure water, plenty of good +schools--that first of all. The ``reform crowd''--the Citizens' +Alliance--like every reform party of the past, proposed to do +practically the same things. But the League met this with: +``Why should we elect an upper class government to do for us what +we ought to do for ourselves? And how can they redeem their +promises when they are tied up in a hundred ways to the very +people who have been robbing and cheating us?'' + +There were to be issues of the New Day; there were to be posters +and dodgers, public meetings in halls, in squares, on street +corners. But the main reliance now as always was this educated +``army of education''-- these six thousand missionaries, each one +of them in resolute earnest and bent upon converting his +neighbors on either side, and across the street as well. A large +part of the time the leaders could spare from making a living was +spent in working at this army, in teaching it new arguments or +better ways of presenting old arguments, in giving the +enthusiasm, in talking with each individual soldier of it and +raising his standard of efficiency. Nor could the employers of +these soldiers of Victor Dorn's complain that they shirked their +work for politics. It was a fact that could not be denied that +the members of the Workingmen's League were far and away the best +workers in Remsen City, got the best pay, and earned it, drank +less, took fewer days off on account of sickness. One of the +sneers of the Kelly-House gang was that ``those Dorn cranks think +they are aristocrats, a little better than us common, ordinary +laboring men.'' And the sneer was not without effect. The truth +was, Dorn and his associates had not picked out the best of the +working class and drawn it into the League, but had made those +who joined the League better workers, better family men, better +citizens. + +``We are saying that the working class ought to run things,'' +Dorn said again and again in his talks, public and private. +``Then, we've got to show the community that we're fit to run +things. That is why the League expels any man who shirks or is a +drunkard or a crook or a bad husband and father.'' + +The great fight of the League--the fight that was keeping it from +power--was with the trades unions, which were run by secret +agents of the Kelly-House oligarchy. Kelly and the Republican +party rather favored ``open shop'' or ``scab'' labor--the right +of an American to let his labor to whom he pleased on what terms +he pleased. The Kelly orators waxed almost tearful as they +contemplated the outrage of any interference with the ancient +liberty of the American citizen. Kelly disguised as House was a +hot union man. He loathed the ``scab.'' He jeered at the idea +that a laborer ought to be at the mercy of the powerful employer +who could dictate his own terms, which the laborers might not +refuse under stress of hunger. Thus the larger part of the +``free'' labor in Remsen City voted with Kelly--was bought by him +at so much a head. The only organization it had was under the +Kelly district captains. Union labor was almost solidly +Democratic--except in Presidential elections, when it usually +divided on the tariff question. + +Although almost all the Leaguers were members of the unions, +Kelly and House saw to it that they had no influence in union +councils. That is, until recently Kelly-House had been able to +accomplish this. But they were seeing the approaching end of +their domination. The ``army of education'' was proving too +powerful for them. And they felt that at the coming election the +decline of their power would be apparent --unless something +drastic were done. + +They had attempted it in the riot. The riot had been a +fizzle--thanks to the interposition of the personal ambition of +the until then despised ``holy boy,'' David Hull. Kelly, the +shrewd, at once saw the mark of the man of force. He resolved +that Hull should be elected. He had intended simply to use him +to elect Hugo Galland judge and to split up the rest of the +tickets in such a way that some Leaguers and some reformers would +get in, would be powerless, would bring discredit and ridicule +upon their parties. But Hull was a man who could be useful; his +cleverness in upsetting the plot against Dorn and turning all to +his advantage demonstrated that. Therefore, Hull should be +elected and passed up higher. It did not enter his calculations +that Hull might prove refractory, might really be all that he +professed; he had talked with Davy, and while he had +underestimated his intelligence, he knew he had not misjudged his +character. He knew that it was as easy to ``deal'' with the Hull +stripe of honest, high minded men as it was difficult to ``deal'' +with the Victor Dorn stripe. Hull he called a ``sensible +fellow''; Victor Dorn he called a crank. But--he respected Dorn, +while Hull he held in much such esteem as he held his +cigar-holder and pocket knife, or Tony Rivers and Joe House. + +When Victor Dorn had first begun to educate and organize the +people of Remsen City, the boss industry was in its early form. +That is, Kelly and House were really rivals in the collecting of +big campaign funds by various forms of blackmail, in struggling +for offices for themselves and their followers, in levying upon +vice and crime through the police. In these ways they made the +money, the lion's share of which naturally fell to them as +leaders, as organizers of plunder. But that stage had now passed +in Remsen City as it had passed elsewhere, and the boss industry +had taken a form far more difficult to combat. Kelly and House +no longer especially cared whether Republican party or Democratic +won. Their business--their source of revenue--had ceased to be +through carrying elections, had become a matter of skill in +keeping the people more or less evenly divided between the two +``regular'' parties, with an occasional fake third party to +discourage and bring into contempt reform movers and to make the +people say, ``Well, bad as they are, at least the regulars aren't +addle-headed, damn fools doing nothing except to make business +bad.'' Both Kelly and House were supported and enriched by the +corporations and by big public contracting companies and by real +estate deals. Kelly still appropriated a large part of the +``campaign fund.'' House, in addition, took a share of the money +raised by the police from dives. But these sums were but a small +part of their income, were merely pin money for their wives and +children. + +Yet--at heart and in all sincerity Kelly was an ardent Republican +and House was a ferocious Democrat. If you had asked either what +Republican and Democrat meant he would have been as vague and +unsatisfactory in his reply as would have been any of his +followers bearing torch and oilcloth cape in political +processions, with no hope of gain--beyond the exquisite pleasure +of making a shouting ass of himself in the most public manner. +But for all that, Kelly was a Republican and House a Democrat. +It is not a strange, though it is a profoundly mysterious, +phenomenon, that of the priest who arranges the trick mechanism +of the god, yet being a devout believer, ready to die for his +``faith.'' + +Difficult though the task was of showing the average Remsen City +man that Republican and Democrat, Kelly and House, were one and +the same thing, and that thing a blood-sucking, blood-heavy leech +upon his veins--difficult though this task was, Victor Dorn knew +that he had about accomplished it, when David Hull appeared. A +new personality; a plausible personality, deceptive because +self-deceiving--yet not so thoroughly self-deceived that it was +in danger of hindering its own ambition. David Hull--just the +kind of respectable, popular figurehead and cloak the desperate +Kelly- House conspiracy needed. + +How far had the ``army of education'' prepared the people for +seeing through this clever new fraud upon them? Victor Dorn +could not judge. He hoped for the best; he was prepared for the +worst. + +The better to think out the various problems of the new +situation, complicated by his apparent debt of gratitude to Davy, +Victor went forth into the woods very early the next morning. He +wandered far, but ten o'clock found him walking in the path in +the strip of woods near the high road along the upper side of the +park. And when Jane Hastings appeared, he was standing looking +in the direction from which she would have to come. It was +significant of her state of mind that she had given small +attention to her dress that morning. Nor was she looking her +best in expression or in color. Her eyes and her skin suggested +an almost sleepless night. + +He did not advance. She came rapidly as if eager to get over +that embarrassing space in which each could see the other, yet +neither could speak without raising the voice. When she was near +she said: + +``You think you owe something to Davy Hull for what he did?'' + +``The people think so,'' said he. ``And that's the important +thing.'' + +``Well--you owe him nothing,'' pursued she. + +``Nothing that would interfere with the cause,'' replied he. +``And that would be true, no matter what he had done.'' + +``I mean he did nothing for you,'' she explained. ``I forgot to +tell you yesterday. The whole thing was simply a move to further +his ambition. I happened to be there when he talked with father +and enlisted him.'' + +Victor laughed. ``It was your father who put it through. I +might have known!'' + +``At first I tried to interpose. Then--I stopped.'' She stood +before him with eyes down. ``It came to me that for my own sake +it would be better that you should lose this fall. It seemed to +me that if you won you would be farther out of my reach.'' She +paused, went steadily on: ``It was a bad feeling I had that you +must not get anything except with my help. Do you understand?'' + +``Perfectly,'' said he cheerfully. ``You are your father's own +daughter.'' + +``I love power,'' said she. ``And so do you. Only, being a +woman, I'd stoop to things to get it, that a man--at least your +sort of man--would scorn. Do you despise me for that? You +oughtn't to. And you will teach me better. You can make of me +what you please, as I told you yesterday. I only half meant it +then. Now--it's true, through and through.'' + +Victor glanced round, saw near at hand the bench he was seeking. +``Let's sit down here,'' said he. ``I'm rather tired. I slept +little and I've been walking all morning. And you look tired, +also.'' + +``After yesterday afternoon I couldn't sleep,'' said she. + +When they were seated he looked at her with an expression that +seemed to say: ``I have thrown open the windows of my soul. +Throw open yours; and let us look at each other as we are, and +speak of things as they are.'' She suddenly flung herself +against his breast and as he clasped her she said: + +``No--no! Let's not reason coldly about things, Victor. Let's +feel--let's LIVE!'' + +It was several minutes--and not until they had kissed many +times--before he regained enough self- control to say: ``This +simply will not do, Jane. How can we discuss things calmly? You +sit there''--he pushed her gently to one end of the bench--``and +I'll sit at this end. Now!'' + +``I love you, Victor! With your arms round me I am happy--and SO +strong!'' + +``With my arms round you I'm happy, I'll admit,'' said he. +``But--oh, so weak! I have the sense that I am doing wrong--that +we are both doing wrong.'' + +``Why? Aren't you free?'' + +``No, I am not free. As I've told you, I belong to a cause--to a +career.'' + +``But I won't hinder you there. I'll help you.'' + +``Why go over that again? You know better--I know better.'' +Abruptly, ``Your father--what time does he get home for dinner?'' + +``He didn't go down town to-day,'' replied Jane. ``He's not +well--not at all well.'' + +Victor looked baffled. ``I was about to propose that we go +straight to him.'' + +If he had been looking at Jane, he might have seen the fleeting +flash of an expression that betrayed that she had suspected the +object of his inquiry. + +``You will not go with me to your father?'' + +``Not when he is ill,'' said she. ``If we told him, it might +kill him. He has ambitions--what he regards as ambitions--for +me. He admires you, but--he doesn't admire your ideas.'' + +``Then,'' said Victor, following his own train of thought, ``we +must fight this out between ourselves. I was hoping I'd have +your father to help me. I'm sure, as soon as you faced him with +me, you'd realize that your feeling about me is largely a +delusion.'' + +``And you?'' said Jane softly. ``Your feeling about me--the +feeling that made you kiss me--was that delusion?'' + +``It was--just what you saw,'' replied he, ``and nothing more. +The idea of marrying you--of living my life with you doesn't +attract me in the least. I can't see you as my wife.'' He +looked at her impatiently. ``Have you no imagination? Can't you +see that you could not change, and become what you'd have to be +if you lived with me?'' + +``You can make of me what you please,'' repeated she with loving +obstinacy. + +``That is not sincere!'' cried he. ``You may think it is, but it +isn't. Look at me, Jane.'' + +``I haven't been doing anything else since we met,'' laughed she. + +``That's better,'' said he. ``Let's not be solemn. Solemnity is +pose, and when people are posing they get nowhere. You say I can +make of you what I please. Do you mean that you are willing to +become a woman of my class--to be that all your life--to bring up +your children in that way--to give up your fashionable +friends--and maid--and carriages--and Paris clothes--to be a +woman who would not make my associates and their families +uncomfortable and shy?'' + +She was silent. She tried to speak, but lifting her eyes before +she began her glance encountered his and her words died upon her +lips. + +``You know you did not mean that,'' pursued he. ``Now, I'll tell +you what you did mean. You meant that after you and I were +married--or engaged--perhaps you did not intend to go quite so +far as marriage just yet.'' + +The color crept into her averted face. + +``Look at me!'' he commanded laughingly. + +With an effort she forced her eyes to meet his. + +``Now--smile, Jane!'' + +His smile was contagious. The curve of her lips changed; her +eyes gleamed. + +``Am I not reading your thoughts?'' said he. + +``You are very clever, Victor,'' admitted she. + +``Good. We are getting on. You believed that, once we were +engaged, I would gradually begin to yield, to come round to your +way of thinking. You had planned for me a career something like +Davy Hull's--only freer and bolder. I would become a member of +your class, but would pose as a representative of the class I had +personally abandoned. Am I right?'' + +``Go on, Victor,'' she said. + +``That's about all. Now, there are just two objections to your +plan. The first is, it wouldn't work. My associates would be +`on to' me in a very short time. They are shrewd, practical, +practically educated men --not at all the sort that follow Davy +Hull or are wearing Kelly's and House's nose rings. In a few +months I'd find myself a leader without a following-- and what is +more futile and ridiculous than that?'' + +``They worship you,'' said Jane. ``They trust you implicitly. +They know that whatever you did would be for their good.'' + +He laughed heartily. ``How little you know my friends,'' said +he. ``I am their leader only because I am working with them, +doing what we all see must be done, doing it in the way in which +we all see it must be done.'' + +``But THAT is not power!'' cried Jane. + +``No,'' replied Victor. ``But it is the career I wish-- the only +one I'd have. Power means that one's followers are weak or +misled or ignorant. To be first among equals--that's worth +while. The other thing is the poor tawdriness that kings and +bosses crave and that shallow, snobbish people admire.'' + +``I see that,'' said Jane. ``At least, I begin to see it. How +wonderful you are!'' + +Victor laughed. ``Is it that I know so much, or is it that you +know so little?'' + +``You don't like for me to tell you that I admire you?'' said +Jane, subtle and ostentatiously timid. + +``I don't care much about it one way or the other,'' replied +Victor, who had, when he chose, a rare ability to be blunt +without being rude. ``Years ago, for my own safety, I began to +train myself to care little for any praise or blame but my own, +and to make myself a very searching critic of myself. So, I am +really flattered only when I win my own praise--and I don't often +have that pleasure.'' + +``Really, I don't see why you bother with me,'' said she with sly +innocence--which was as far as she dared let her resentments go. + +``For two reasons,'' replied he promptly. ``It flatters me that +you are interested in me. The second reason is that, when I lost +control of myself yesterday, I involved myself in certain +responsibilities to you. It has seemed to me that I owe it to +myself and to you to make you see that there is neither present +nor future in any relations between us.'' + +She put out her hand, and before he knew what he was doing he had +clasped it. With a gentle, triumphant smile she said: ``THERE'S +the answer to all your reasoning, Victor.'' + +He released her hand. ``AN answer,'' he said, ``but not the +correct answer.'' He eyed her thoughtfully. ``You have done me +a great service,'' he went on. ``You have shown me an +unsuspected, a dangerous weakness in myself. At another +time--and coming in another way, I might have made a mess of my +career--and of the things that have been entrusted to me.'' A +long pause, then he added, to himself rather than to her, ``I +must look out for that. I must do something about it.'' + +Jane turned toward him and settled herself in a resolute attitude +and with a resolute expression. ``Victor,'' she said, ``I've +listened to you very patiently. Now I want you to listen to me. +What is the truth about us? Why, that we are as if we had been +made for each other. I don't know as much as you do. I've led a +much narrower life. I've been absurdly mis- educated. But as +soon as I saw you I felt that I had found the man I was looking +for. And I believe--I feel--I KNOW you were drawn to me in the +same way. Isn't that so?'' + +``You--fascinated me,'' confessed he. ``You--or your clothes--or +your perfume.'' + +``Explain it as you like,'' said she. ``The fact remains that we +were drawn together. Well--Victor, _I_ am not afraid to face the +future, as fate maps it out for us. Are you?'' + +He did not answer. + +``You--AFRAID,'' she went on. ``No--you couldn't be afraid.'' + +A long silence. Then he said abruptly: ``IF we loved each +other. But I know that we don't. I know that you would hate me +when you realized that you couldn't move me. And I know that I +should soon get over the infatuation for you. As soon as it +became a question of sympathies--common tastes--congeniality--I'd +find you hopelessly lacking.'' + +She felt that he was contrasting her with some one else--with a +certain some one. And she veiled her eyes to hide their blazing +jealousy. A movement on his part made her raise them in sudden +alarm. He had risen. His expression told her that the battle +was lost--for the day. Never had she loved him as at that +moment, and never had longing to possess him so dominated her +willful, self-indulgent, spoiled nature. Yet she hated him, too; +she longed to crush him, to make him suffer--to repay him with +interest for the suffering he was inflicting upon her--the +humiliation. But she dared not show her feelings. It would be +idle to try upon this man any of the coquetries indicated for +such cases--to dismiss him coldly, or to make an appeal through +an exhibition of weakness or reckless passion. + +``You will see the truth, for yourself, as you think things +over,'' said he. + +She rose, stood before him with downcast eyes, with mouth sad and +sweet. ``No,'' she said, ``It's you who are hiding the truth +from yourself. I hope--for both our sakes--that you'll see it +before long. Good-by-- dear.'' She stretched out her hand. + +Hesitatingly he took it. As their hands met, her pulse beating +against his, she lifted her eyes. And once more he was holding +her close, was kissing her. And she was lying in his arms +unresisting, with two large tears shining in the long lashes of +her closed eyes. + +``Oh, Jane--forgive me!'' he cried, releasing her. ``I must keep +away from you. I will--I WILL!'' And he was rushing down the +steep slope--direct, swift, relentless. But she, looking after +him with a tender, dreamy smile, murmured: ``He loves me. He +will come again. If not--I'll go and get him!'' + + +To Jane Victor Dorn's analysis of his feeling toward her and of +the reasons against yielding to it seemed of no importance +whatever. Side by side with Selma's + +``One may not trifle with love'' she would have put ``In matters +of love one does not reason,'' as equally axiomatic. Victor was +simply talking; love would conquer him as it had conquered every +man and every woman it had ever entered. Love--blind, +unreasoning, irresistible-- would have its will and its way. + +And about most men she would have been right-- about any man +practically, of the preceding generation. But Victor represented +a new type of human being-- the type into whose life reason +enters not merely as a theoretical force, to be consulted and +disregarded, but as an authority, a powerful influence, dominant +in all crucial matters. Only in our own time has science begun +to make a notable impression upon the fog which formerly lay over +the whole human mind, thicker here, thinner there, a mere haze +yonder, but present everywhere. This fog made clear vision +impossible, usually made seeing of any kind difficult; there was +no such thing as finding a distinct line between truth and error +as to any subject. And reason seemed almost as faulty a guide as +feeling--was by many regarded as more faulty, not without +justification. + +But nowadays for some of us there are clear or almost clear +horizons, and such fog banks as there are conceal from them +nothing that is of importance in shaping a rational course of +life. Victor Dorn was one of these emancipated few. All +successful men form their lives upon a system of some kind. Even +those who seem to live at haphazard, like the multitude, prove to +have chart and compass and definite port in objective when their +conduct is more attentively examined. Victor Dorn's system was +as perfect as it was simple, and he held himself to it as rigidly +as the father superior of a Trappist monastery holds his monks to +their routine. Also, Victor had learned to know and to be on +guard against those two arch-enemies of the man who wishes to +``get somewhere''--self-excuse and optimism. He had got a good +strong leash upon his vanity --and a muzzle, too. When things +went wrong he instantly blamed HIMSELF, and did not rest until he +had ferreted out the stupidity or folly of which HE had been +guilty. He did not grieve over his failures; he held severely +scientific post mortems upon them to discover the reason why--in +order that there should not again be that particular kind of +failure at least. Then, as to the other arch-enemy, optimism, he +simply cut himself off from indulgence in it. He worked for +success; he assumed failure. He taught himself to care nothing +about success, but only about doing as intelligently and as +thoroughly as he could the thing next at hand. + +What has all this to do with his infatuation for Jane? It serves +to show not only why the Workingmen's League was growing like a +plague of gypsy moth, but also why Victor Dorn was not the man to +be conquered by passion. Naturally, Jane, who had only the +vaguest conception of the size and power of Victor Dorn's mind, +could not comprehend wherein lay the difference between him and +the men she read about in novels or met in her wanderings among +the people of her own class in various parts of the earth. It is +possible for even the humblest of us to understand genius, just +as it is possible to view a mountain from all sides and get a +clear idea of it bulk and its dominion. But the hasty traveler +contents himself with a glance, a ``How superb,'' and a quick +passing on; and most of us are hasty travelers in the scenic land +of intellectuality. Jane saw that he was a great man. But she +was deceived by his frankness and his simplicity. She evoked in +him only the emotional side of his nature, only one part of that. + +Because it--the only phase of him she attentively examined--was +so impressive, she assumed that it was the chief feature of the +man. + +Also, young and inexperienced women--and women not so young, and +with opportunity to become less inexperienced but without the +ability to learn by experience--always exaggerate the importance +of passion. Almost without exception, it is by way of passion +that a man and a woman approach each other. It is, of necessity, +the exterior that first comes into view. Thus, all that youth +and inexperience can know about love is its aspect of passion. +Because Jane had again and again in her five grown-up years +experienced men falling passionately in love with her, she +fancied she was an expert in matters of love. In fact, she had +still everything to learn. + +On the way home she, assuming that the affair was as good as +settled, that she and Victor Dorn were lovers, was busy with +plans for the future. Victor Dorn had made a shrewd guess at the +state of her mind. She had no intention of allowing him to +pursue his present career. That was merely foundation. With the +aid of her love and council, and of her father's money and +influence, he--he and she--would mount to something really worth +while--something more than the petty politics of a third rate +city in the West. Washington was the proper arena for his +talents; they would take the shortest route to Washington. No +trouble about bringing him around; a man so able and so sensible +as he would not refuse the opportunity to do good on a grand +scale. Besides--he must be got away from his family, from these +doubtless good and kind but certainly not very high class +associates of his, and from Selma Gordon. The idea of his +comparing HER with Selma Gordon! He had not done so aloud, but +she knew what was in his mind. Yes, he must be taken far away +from all these provincial and narrowing associations. + +But all this was mere detail. The big problem was how to bring +her father round. He couldn't realize what Victor Dorn would be +after she had taken him in hand. He would see only Victor Dorn, +the labor agitator of Remsen City, the nuisance who put +mischievous motives into the heads of ``the hands''--the man who +made them think they had heads when they were intended by the +Almighty to be simply hands. How reconcile him to the idea of +accepting this nuisance, this poor, common member of the working +class as a son-in-law, as the husband of the daughter he wished +to see married to some one of the ``best'' families? + +On the face of it, the thing was impossible. Why, then, did not +Jane despair? For two reasons. In the first place, she was in +love, and that made her an optimist. Somehow love would find the +way. But the second reason--the one she hid from herself deep in +the darkest sub-cellar of her mind, was the real reason. It is +one matter to wish for a person's death. Only a villainous +nature can harbor such a wish, can admit it except as a hastily +and slyly in-crawling impulse, to be flung out the instant it is +discovered. It is another matter to calculate--very secretly, +very unconsciously--upon a death that seems inevitable anyhow. +Jane had only to look at her father to feel that he would not be +spared to her long. The mystery was how he had kept alive so +long, how he continued to live from day to day. His stomach was +gone; his whole digestive apparatus was in utter disorder. His +body had shriveled until he weighed no more than a baby. His +pulse was so feeble that even in the hot weather he complained of +the cold and had to be wrapped in the heaviest winter garments. +Yet he lived on, and his mind worked with undiminished vigor. + +When Jane reached home, the old man was sitting on the veranda in +the full sun. On his huge head was a fur cap pulled well down +over his ears and intensifying the mortuary, skull-like +appearance of his face. Over his ulster was an old-fashioned +Scotch shawl such as men used to wear in the days before +overcoats came into fashion. About his wasted legs was wrapped a +carriage robe, and she knew that there was a hot-water bag under +his feet. Beside him sat young Doctor Charlton, whom Jane had at +last succeeded in inducing her father to try. Charlton did not +look or smell like a doctor. He rather suggested a professional +athlete, perhaps a better class prize fighter. The weazened old +financier was gazing at him with a fascinated +expression--admiring, envious, amused. + +Charlton was saying: + +``Yes, you do look like a dead one. But that's only another of +your tricks for fooling people. You'll live a dozen years unless +you commit suicide. A dozen years? Probably twenty.'' + +``You ought to be ashamed to make sport of a poor old invalid,'' +said Hastings with a grin. + +``Any man who could stand a lunch of crackers and milk for ten +years could outlive anything,'' retorted Charlton. ``No, you +belong to the old stock. You used to see 'em around when you +were a boy. They usually coughed and wheezed, and every time +they did it, the family used to get ready to send for the +undertaker. But they lived on and on. When did your mother +die?'' + +``Couple of years ago,'' said Hastings. + +``And your father?'' + +``He was killed by a colt he was breaking at sixty- seven.'' + +Charlton laughed uproariously. ``If you took walks and rides +instead of always sitting round, you never would die,'' said he. +``But you're like lots of women I know. You'd rather die than +take exercise. Still, I've got you to stop that eating that was +keeping you on the verge all the time.'' + +``You're trying to starve me to death,'' grumbled Hastings. + +``Don't you feel better, now that you've got used to it and don't +feel hungry?'' + +``But I'm not getting any nourishment.'' + +``How would eating help you? You can't digest any more than what +I'm allowing you. Do you think you were better off when you were +full of rotting food? I guess not.'' + +``Well--I'm doing as you say,'' said the old man resignedly. + +``And if you keep it up for a year, I'll put you on a horse. If +you don't keep it up, you'll find yourself in a hearse.'' + +Jane stood silently by, listening with a feeling of depression +which she could not have accounted for, if she would--and would +not if she could. Not that she wished her father to die; simply +that Charlton's confidence in his long life forced her to face +the only alternative--bringing him round to accept Victor Dorn. + +At her father's next remark she began to listen with a high +beating heart. He said to Charlton: + +``How about that there friend of yours--that young Dorn? You +ain't talked about him to-day as much as usual.'' + +``The last time we talked about him we quarreled,'' said +Charlton. ``It's irritating to see a man of your intelligence a +slave to silly prejudices.'' + +``I like Victor Dorn,'' replied Hastings in a most conciliatory +tone. ``I think he's a fine young man. Didn't I have him up +here at my house not long ago? Jane'll tell you that I like him. + +She likes him, too. But the trouble with him--and with you, +too--is that you're dreaming all the time. You don't recognize +facts. And, so, you make a lot of trouble for us conservative +men.'' + +``Please don't use that word conservative,'' said Charlton. ``It +gags me to hear it. YOU'RE not a conservative. If you had been +you'd still be a farm hand. You've been a radical all your +life--changing things round and round, always according to your +idea of what was to your advantage. The only difference between +radicals like you robber financiers and radicals like Victor and +me is that our ideas of what's to our advantage differ. To you +life means money; to us it means health and comfort and +happiness. You want the world changed--laws upset, liberty +destroyed, wages lowered, and so on--so that you can get all the +money. We want the world changed so that we can be healthy and +comfortable and happy--securely so--which we can't be unless +everybody is, or is in the way to being.'' + +Jane was surprised to see that her father, instead of being +offended, was amused and pleased. He liked his new doctor so +well that he liked everything he said and did. Jane looked at +Charlton in her friendliest way. Here might be an ally, and a +valuable ally. + +``Human nature doesn't change,'' said Hastings in the tone of a +man who is stating that which cannot be disputed. + +``The mischief it doesn't,'' said Charlton in prompt and vigorous +dissent. ``When conditions change, human nature has to change, +has to adapt itself. What you mean is that human nature doesn't +change itself. But conditions change it. They've been changing +it very rapidly these last few years. Science--steam, +electricity, a thousand inventions and discoveries, crowding one +upon another--science has brought about entirely new and +unprecedented conditions so rapidly that the changes in human +nature now making and that must be made in the next few years are +resulting in a series of convulsions. You old-fashioned +fellows--and the political parties and the politicians--are in +danger of being stranded. Leaders like Victor Dorn--movements +like our Workingmen's League--they seem new and radical to-day. +By to-morrow they'll be the commonplace thing, found +everywhere--and administering the public affairs.'' + +Jane was not surprised to see an expression of at least partial +admission upon her father's face. Charlton's words were of the +kind that set the imagination to work, that remind those who hear +of a thousand and one familiar related facts bearing upon the +same points. ``Well,'' said Hastings, ``I don't expect to see +any radical changes in my time.'' + +``Then you'll not live as long as I think,'' said Charlton. ``We +Americans advance very slowly because this is a big country and +undeveloped, and because we shift about so much that no one stays +in one place long enough to build up a citizenship and get an +education in politics--which is nothing more or less than an +education in the art of living. But slow though we are, we do +advance. You'll soon see the last of Boss Kelly and Boss +House--and of such gentle, amiable frauds as our friend Davy +Hull.'' + +Jane laughed merrily. ``Why do you call him a fraud?'' she +asked. + +``Because he is a fraud,'' said Charlton. ``He is trying to +confuse the issue. He says the whole trouble is petty dishonesty +in public life. Bosh! The trouble is that the upper and middle +classes are milking the lower class--both with and without the +aid of the various governments, local, state and national. +THAT'S the issue. And the reason it is being forced is because +the lower class, the working class, is slowly awakening to the +truth. When it completely awakens----'' Charlton made a large +gesture and laughed. + +``What then?'' said Hastings. + +``The end of the upper and the middle classes. Everybody will +have to work for a living.'' + +``Who's going to be elected this fall?'' asked Jane. ``Your +man?'' + +``Yes,'' said Doctor Charlton. ``Victor Dorn thinks not. But he +always takes the gloomy view. And he doesn't meet and talk with +the fellows on the other side, as I do.'' + +Hastings was looking out from under the vizor of his cap with a +peculiar grin. It changed to a look of startled inquiry as +Charlton went on to say: + +``Yes, we'll win. But the Davy Hull gang will get the offices.'' + +``Why do you think that?'' asked old Hastings sharply. + +Charlton eyed his patient with a mocking smile. ``You didn't +think any one knew but you and Kelly-- did you?'' laughed he. + +``Knew what?'' demanded Hastings, with a blank stare. + +``No matter,'' said Charlton. ``I know what you intend to do. +Well, you'll get away with the goods. But you'll wish you +hadn't. You old-fashioned fellows, as I've been telling you, +don't realize that times have changed.'' + +``Do you mean, Doctor, that the election is to be stolen away +from you?'' inquired Jane. + +``Was that what I meant, Mr. Hastings?'' said Charlton. + +``The side that loses always shouts thief at the side that +wins,'' said the old man indifferently. ``I don't take any +interest in politics.'' + +``Why should you?'' said the Doctor audaciously. ``You own both +sides. So, it's heads you win, tails I lose.'' + +Hastings laughed heartily. ``Them political fellows are a lot of +blackmailers,'' said he. + +``That's ungrateful,'' said Charlton. ``Still, I don't blame you +for liking the Davy Hull crowd better. From them you can get +what you want just the same, only you don't have to pay for it.'' + +He rose and stretched his big frame, with a disregard of +conventional good manners so unconscious that it was inoffensive. + +But Charlton had a code of manners of his own, and somehow it +seemed to suit him where the conventional code would have made +him seem cheap. ``I didn't mean to look after your political +welfare, too,'' said he. ``But I'll make no charge for that.'' + +``Oh, I like to hear you young fellows talk,'' said Martin. +``You'll sing a different song when you're as old as I am and +have found out what a lot of damn fools the human race is.'' + +``As I told you before,'' said Charlton, ``it's conditions that +make the human animal whatever it is. It's in the harness of +conditions--the treadmill of conditions-- the straight jacket of +conditions. Change the conditions and you change the animal.'' + +When he was swinging his big powerful form across the lawns +toward the fringe of woods, Jane and her father looking after +him, Jane said: + +``He's wonderfully clever, isn't he?'' + +``A dreamer--a crank,'' replied the old man. + +``But what he says sounds reasonable,'' suggested the daughter. + +``It SOUNDS sensible,'' admitted the old man peevishly. ``But it +ain't what _I_ was brought up to call sensible. Don't you get +none of those fool ideas into your head. They're all very well +for men that haven't got any property or any +responsibilities--for flighty fellows like Charlton and that +there Victor Dorn. But as soon as anybody gets property and has +interests to look after, he drops that kind of talk.'' + +``Do you mean that property makes a man too blind or too cowardly +to speak the truth?'' asked Jane with an air of great innocence. + +The old man either did not hear or had no answer ready. He said: + +``You heard him say that Davy Hull was going to win?'' + +``Why, he said Victor Dorn was going to win,'' said Jane, still +simple and guileless. + +Hastings frowned impatiently. ``That was just loose talk. He +admitted Davy was to be the next mayor. If he is--and I expect +Charlton was about right--if Davy is elected, I shouldn't be +surprised to see him nominated for governor next year. He's a +sensible, knowing fellow. He'll make a good mayor, and he'll be +elected governor on his record.'' + +``And on what you and the other men who run things will do for +him,'' suggested Jane slyly. + +Her father grinned expressively. ``I like to see a sensible, +ambitious young fellow from my town get on,'' said he. ``And I'd +like to see my girl married to a fellow of that sort, and +settled.'' + +``I think more could be done with a man like Victor Dorn,'' said +Jane. ``It seems to me the Davy Hull sort of politics is--is +about played out. Don't you think so?'' + +Jane felt that her remark was a piece of wild audacity. But she +was desperate. To her amazement her father did not flare up but +kept silent, wearing the look she knew meant profound reflection. + +After a moment he said: + +``Davy's a knowing boy. He showed that the other day when he +jumped in and made himself a popular hero. He'd never 'a' been +able to come anywheres near election but for that. Dorn'd 'a' +won by a vote so big that Dick Kelly wouldn't 'a' dared even try +to count him out. . . . Dorn's a better man than Davy. But +Dorn's got a foolish streak in him. He believes the foolishness +he talks, instead of simply talking it to gain his end. I've +been looking him over and thinking him over. He won't do, +Jinny.'' + +Was her father discussing the matter abstractly, impersonally, as +he seemed? Or, had he with that uncanny shrewdness of his +somehow penetrated to her secret--or to a suspicion of it? Jane +was so agitated that she sat silent and rigid, trying to look +unconcerned. + +``I had a strong notion to try to do something for him,'' +continued the old man. ``But it'd be no use. He'd not rise to a +chance that was offered him. He's set on going his own way.'' + +Jane trembled--dared. ``I believe _I_ could do something with +him,'' said she--and she was pleased with the coolness of her +voice, the complete absence of agitation or of false note. + +``Try if you like,'' said her father. ``But I'm sure you'll find +I'm right. Be careful not to commit yourself in any way. But I +needn't warn you. You know how to take care of yourself. Still, +maybe you don't realize how set up he'd be over being noticed by +a girl in your position. And if you gave him the notion that +there was a chance for him to marry you, he'd be after you hammer +and tongs. The idea of getting hold of so much money'd set him +crazy.'' + +``I doubt if he cares very much--or at all--about money,'' said +Jane, judicially. + +Hastings grinned satirically. ``There ain't nobody that don't +care about money,'' said he, ``any more than there's anybody that +don't care about air to breathe. Put a pin right there, Jinny.'' + +``I hate to think that,'' she said, reluctantly, ``but I'm +afraid--it's--so.'' + + +As she was taking her ride one morning she met David Hull also on +horseback and out for his health. He turned and they rode +together, for several miles, neither breaking the silence except +with an occasional remark about weather or scenery. Finally Davy +said: + +``You seem to be down about something, too?'' + +``Not exactly down,'' replied Jane. ``Simply--I've been doing a +lot of thinking--and planning--or attempt at planning--lately.'' + +``I, too,'' said Davy. + +``Naturally. How's politics?'' + +``Of course I don't hear anything but that I'm going to be +elected. If you want to become convinced that the whole world is +on the graft, take part in a reform campaign. We've attracted +every broken-down political crook in this region. It's hard to +say which crowd is the more worthless, the college amateurs at +politics or these rotten old in-goods who can't get employment +with either Kelly or House and, so, have joined us. By Jove, I'd +rather be in with the out and out grafters --the regulars that +make no bones of being in politics for the spoils. There's slimy +hypocrisy over our crowd that revolts me. Not a particle of +sincerity or conviction. Nothing but high moral guff.'' + +``Oh, but YOU'RE sincere, Davy,'' said Jane with twinkling eyes. + +``Am I?'' said Davy angrily. ``I'm not so damn sure of it.'' +Hastily, ``I don't mean that. Of course, I'm sincere--as sincere +as a man can be and get anywhere in this world. You've got to +humbug the people, because they haven't sense enough to want the +truth.'' + +``I guess, Davy,'' said Jane shrewdly, ``if you told them the +whole truth about yourself and your party they'd have sense +enough--to vote for Victor Dorn.'' + +``He's a demagogue,'' said Davy with an angry jerk at his rein. +``He knows the people aren't fit to rule.'' + +``Who is?'' said Jane. ``I've yet to see any human creature who +could run anything without making more or less of a mess of it. +And--well, personally, I'd prefer incompetent honest servants to +competent ones who were liars or thieves.'' + +``Sometimes I think,'' said Davy, ``that the only thing to do is +to burn the world up and start another one.'' + +``You don't talk like a man who expected to be elected,'' said +Jane. + +``Oh--I'm worrying about myself--not about the election,'' said +Hull, lapsing into sullen silence. And certainly he had no +reason to worry about the election. He had the Citizen's +Alliance and the Democratic nominations. And, as a further aid +to him, Dick Kelly had given the Republican nomination to Alfred +Sawyer, about the most unpopular manufacturer in that region. +Sawyer, a shrewd money maker, was an ass in other ways, was +strongly seized of the itch for public office. Kelly, seeking +the man who would be the weakest, combined business with good +politics; he forced Sawyer to pay fifty thousand dollars into the +``campaign fund'' in a lump sum, and was counting confidently +upon ``milking'' him for another fifty thousand in installments +during the campaign. Thus, in the natural order of things, Davy +could safely assume that he would be the next mayor of Remsen +City by a gratifyingly large majority. The last vote of the +Workingmen's League had been made fifteen hundred. Though it +should quadruple its strength at the coming election --which was +most improbable--it would still be a badly beaten second. +Politically, Davy was at ease. + +Jane waited ten minutes, then asked abruptly: + +``What's become of Selma Gordon?'' + +``Did you see this week's New Day?'' + +``Is it out? I've seen no one, and haven't been down town.'' + +``There was a lot of stuff in it against me. Most of it +demagoguing, of course, but more or less hysterical campaigning. +The only nasty article about me--a downright personal attack on +my sincerity-- was signed `S. G.' '' + +``Oh--to be sure,'' said Jane, with smiling insincerity. ``I had +almost forgotten what you told me. Well, it's easy enough to +bribe her to silence. Go offer yourself to her.'' + +A long silence, then Davy said: ``I don't believe she'd accept +me.'' + +``Try it,'' said Jane. + +Again a long pause. David said sullenly: ``I did.'' + +Selma Gordon had refused David Hull! Half a dozen explanations +of this astounding occurrence rapidly suggested themselves. Jane +rejected each in turn at a glance. ``You're sure she understood +you?'' + +``I made myself as clear as I did when I proposed to you,'' +replied Davy with a lack of tact which a woman of Jane's kind +would never forget or forgive. + +Jane winced, ignored. Said she: ``You must have insisted on +some conditions she hesitated to accept.'' + +``On her own terms,'' said Davy. + +Jane gave up trying to get the real reason from him, sought it in +Selma's own words and actions. She inquired: ``What did she +say? What reason did she give?'' + +``That she owed it to the cause of her class not to marry a man +of my class,'' answered Hull, believing that he was giving the +exact and the only reason she assigned or had. + +Jane gave a faint smile of disdain. ``Women don't act from a +sense of duty,'' she said. + +``She's not the ordinary woman,'' said Hull. ``You must remember +she wasn't brought up as you and I were--hasn't our ideas of +life. The things that appeal to us most strongly don't touch +her. She knows nothing about them.'' He added, ``And that's her +great charm for me.'' + +Jane nodded sympathetically. Her own case exactly. After a +brief hesitation she suggested: + +``Perhaps Selma's in love with--some one else.'' The pause +before the vague ``some one else'' was almost unnoticeable. + +``With Victor Dorn, you mean?'' said Davy. ``I asked her about +that. No, she's not in love with him.'' + +``As if she'd tell you!'' + +Davy looked at her a little scornfully. ``Don't insinuate,'' he +said. ``You know she would. There's nothing of the ordinary +tricky, evasive, faking woman about her. And although she's got +plenty of excuse for being conceited, she isn't a bit so. She +isn't always thinking about herself, like the girls of our +class.'' + +``I don't in the least wonder at your being in love with her, +Davy,'' said Jane sweetly. ``Didn't I tell you I admired your +taste--and your courage?'' + +``You're sneering at me,'' said Davy. ``All the same, it did +take courage--for I'm a snob at bottom--like you--like all of us +who've been brought up so foolishly --so rottenly. But I'm proud +that I had the courage. I've had a better opinion of myself ever +since. And if you have any unspoiled womanhood in you, you agree +with me.'' + +``I do agree with you,'' said Jane softly. She reached out and +laid her hand on his arm for an instant. ``That's honest, +Davy.'' + +He gave her a grateful look. ``I know it,'' said he. ``The +reason I confide things to you is because I know you're a real +woman at bottom, Jane--the only real person I've ever happened +across in our class.'' + +``It took more courage for you to do that sort of thing than it +would for a woman,'' said Jane. ``It's more natural, easier for +a woman to stake everything in love. If she hasn't the man she +wants she hasn't anything, while a man's wife can be a mere +detail in his life. He can forget he's married, most of the +time.'' + +``That isn't the way I intend to be married,'' said Davy. ``I +want a wife who'll be half, full half, of the whole. And I'll +get her.'' + +``You mean you haven't given up?'' + +``Why should I? She doesn't love another man. So, there's hope. + +Don't you think so?'' + +Jane was silent. She hastily debated whether it would be wiser +to say yes or to say no. + +``Don't you think so?'' repeated he. + +``How can I tell?'' replied Jane, diplomatically. ``I'd have to +see her with you--see how she feels toward you.'' + +``I think she likes me,'' said Davy, ``likes me a good deal.'' + +Jane kept her smile from the surface. What a man always thought, +no matter how plainly a woman showed that she detested him. ``No +doubt she does,'' said Jane. She had decided upon a course of +action. ``If I were you, Davy, I'd keep away from her for the +present-- give her time to think it over, to see all the +advantages. If a man forces himself on a queer, wild sort of +girl such as Selma is, he's likely to drive her further away.'' + +Davy reflected. ``Guess you're right,'' said he finally. ``My +instinct is always to act--to keep on acting until I get results. + +But it's dangerous to do that with Selma. At least, I think so. +I don't know. I don't understand her. I've got nothing to offer +her--nothing that she wants--as she frankly told me. Even if she +loved me, I doubt if she'd marry me--on account of her sense of +duty. What you said awhile ago-- about women never doing things +from a sense of duty-- that shows how hard it is for a woman to +understand what's perfectly simple to a man. Selma isn't the +sheltered woman sort--the sort whose moral obligations are all +looked after by the men of her family. The old-fashioned woman +always belonged to some man-- or else was an outcast. This new +style of woman looks at life as a man does.'' + +Jane listened with a somewhat cynical expression. No doubt, in +theory, there was a new style of woman. But practically, the new +style of woman merely TALKED differently; at least, she was still +the old-fashioned woman, longing for dependence upon some man and +indifferent to the obligations men made such a fuss +about--probably not so sincerely as they fancied. But her +expression changed when Davy went on to say: + +``She'd look at a thing of that sort much as I-- or Victor Dorn +would.'' + +Jane's heart suddenly sank. Because the unconscious blow had +hurt she struck out, struck back with the first weapon she could +lay hold of. ``But you said a minute ago that Victor was a +hypocritical demagogue.'' + +Davy flushed with confusion. He was in a franker mood now, +however. ``I'd like to think that,'' he replied. ``But I don't +honestly believe it.'' + +``You think that if Victor Dorn loved a woman of our class he'd +put her out of his life?'' + +``That's hardly worth discussing,'' said Davy. ``No woman of our +class--no woman he'd be likely to look at--would encourage him to +the point where he'd presume upon it.'' + +``How narrow you are!'' cried Jane, derisive but even more angry. + +``It's different--entirely different--with a man, even in our +class. But a woman of our class--she's a lady or she's nothing +at all. And a lady couldn't be so lacking in refinement as to +descend to a man socially beneath her.'' + +``I can see how ANY woman might fall in love with Victor Dorn.'' + +``You're just saying that to be argumentative,'' said Davy with +conviction. ``Take yourself, for example.'' + +``I confess I don't see any such contrast between Victor and +you--except where the comparison's altogether in his favor,'' +said Jane pleasantly. ``You don't know as much as he does. You +haven't the independence of character--or the courage--or the +sincerity. You couldn't be a real leader, as he is. You have to +depend on influence, and on trickery.'' + +A covert glance at the tall, solemn-looking young man riding +silently beside her convinced her that he was as uncomfortable as +she had hoped to make him. + +``As for manners--and the things that go to make a gentleman,'' +she went on, ``I'm not sure but that there, too, the comparison +is against you. You always suggest to me that if you hadn't the +pattern set for men of our class and didn't follow it, you'd be +absolutely lost, Davy, dear. While Victor--he's a fine, natural +person, with the manners that grow as naturally out of his +personality as oak leaves grow out of an oak.'' + +Jane was astonished and delighted by this eloquence of hers about +the man she loved--an eloquence far above her usual rather +commonplace mode of speech and thought. Love was indeed an +inspirer! What a person she would become when she had Victor +always stimulating her. She went on: + +``A woman would never grow tired of Victor. He doesn't talk +stale stuff such as all of us get from the stale little +professors and stale, dreary text-books at our colleges.'' + +``Why don't you fall in love with him?'' said Davy sourly. + +``I do believe you're envious of Victor Dorn,'' retorted Jane. + +``What a disagreeable mood you're in to-day,'' said Davy. + +``So a man always thinks when a woman speaks well of another man +in his presence.'' + +``I didn't suspect you of being envious of Selma. Why should you +suspect me of feeling ungenerously about Victor? Fall in love +with him if you like. Heaven knows, I'd do nothing to stop it.'' + +``Perhaps I shall,'' said Jane, with unruffled amiability. +``You're setting a dangerous example of breaking down class +lines.'' + +``Now, Jane, you know perfectly well that while, if I married +Selma she'd belong to my class, a woman of our class marrying +Victor Dorn would sink to his class. Why quarrel about anything +so obviously true?'' + +``Victor Dorn belongs to a class by himself,'' replied Jane. +``You forget that men of genius are not regarded like you poor +ordinary mortals.'' + +Davy was relieved that they had reached the turning at which they +had to separate. ``I believe you are in love with him,'' said he +as a parting shot. + +Jane, riding into her lane, laughed gayly, mockingly. She +arrived at home in fine humor. It pleased her that Davy, for all +his love for Selma, could yet be jealous of Victor Dorn on her +account. And more than ever, after this talk with him--the part +of it that preceded the quarrel--she felt that she was doing a +fine, brave, haughtily aristocratic thing in loving Victor Dorn. +Only a woman with a royal soul would venture to be thus +audacious. + +Should she encourage or discourage the affair between Davy and +Selma? There was much to be said for this way of removing Selma +from her path; also, if a man of Davy Hull's position married +beneath him, less would be thought of her doing the same thing. +On the other hand, she felt that she had a certain property right +in David Hull, and that Selma was taking what belonged to her. +This, she admitted to herself, was mean and small, was unworthy +of the woman who was trying to be worthy of Victor Dorn, of such +love as she professed for him. Yes, mean and small. She must +try to conquer it. + +But--when she met Selma in the woods a few mornings later, her +dominant emotions were anything but high-minded and generous. +Selma was looking her most fascinating--wild and strange and +unique. They caught sight of each other at the same instant. +Jane came composedly on--Selma made a darting movement toward a +by-path opening near her, hesitated, stood like some shy, lovely +bird of the deep wilderness ready to fly away into hiding. + +``Hello, Selma!'' said Jane carelessly. + +Selma looked at her with wide, serious eyes. + +``Where have you been keeping yourself of late? Busy with the +writing, I suppose?'' + +``I owe you an apology,'' said Selma, in a queer, suppressed +voice. ``I have been hating you, and trying to think of some way +to keep you and Victor Dorn apart. I thought it was from my duty +to the cause. I've found out that it was a low, mean personal +reason.'' + +Jane had stopped short, was regarding her with eyes that glowed +in a pallid face. ``Because you are in love with him?'' she +said. + +Selma gave a quick, shamed nod. ``Yes,'' she said-- the sound +was scarcely audible. + +Selma's frank and generous--and confiding--self- sacrifice +aroused no response in Jane Hastings. For the first time in her +life she was knowing what it meant to hate. + +``And I've got to warn you,'' Selma went on, ``that I am going to +do whatever I can to keep you from hindering him. Not because I +love him, but because I owe it to the cause. He belongs to it, +and I must help him be single-hearted for it. You could only be +a bad influence in his life. I think you would like to be a +sincere woman; but you can't. Your class is too strong for you. +So--it would be wrong for Victor Dorn to love and to marry you. +I think he realizes it and is struggling to be true to himself. +I intend to help him, if I can.'' + +Jane smiled cruelly. ``What hypocrisy!'' she said, and turned +and walked away. + + + +VIII + +In America we have been bringing up our women like men, and +treating them like children. They have active minds with nothing +to act upon. Thus they are driven to think chiefly about +themselves. With Jane Hastings, self-centering took the form of +self-analysis most of the time. She was intensely interested in +what she regarded as the new development of her character. This +definite and apparently final decision for the narrow and the +ungenerous. In fact, it was no new development, but simply a +revelation to herself of her own real character. She was seeing +at last the genuine Jane Hastings, inevitable product of a +certain heredity in a certain environment. The high thinking and +talking, the idealistic aspiration were pose and pretense. Jane +Hastings was a selfish, self-absorbed person, ready to do almost +any base thing to gain her ends, ready to hate to the uttermost +any one who stood between her and her object. + +``I'm certainly not a lovely person--not a lovable person,'' +thought she, with that gentle tolerance wherewith we regard our +ownselves, whether in the dress of pretense or in the undress of +deformed humanness. ``Still--I am what I am, and I've got to +make the best of it.'' + +As she thought of Selma's declaration of war she became less and +less disturbed about it. Selma neither would nor could do +anything sly. Whatever she attempted in the open would only turn +Victor Dorn more strongly toward herself. However, she must +continue to try to see him, must go to see him in a few days if +she did not happen upon him in her rides or walks. How poorly he +would think of her if he knew the truth about her! But then, how +poor most women--and men, too--would look in a strong and just +light. Few indeed could stand idealizing; except Victor, no one +she knew. And he was human enough not to make her uncomfortable +in his presence. + +But it so happened that before she could see Victor Dorn her +father disobeyed Dr. Charlton and gave way to the appetite that +was the chief cause of his physical woes. He felt so well that +he ate the family dinner, including a peach cobbler with whipped +cream, which even the robust Jane adventured warily. Martha was +dining with them. She abetted her father. ``It's light,'' said +she. ``It couldn't harm anybody.'' + +``You mustn't touch it, popsy,'' said Jane. + +She unthinkingly spoke a little too commandingly. Her father, in +a perverse and reckless mood, took Martha's advice. An hour +later Dr. Charlton was summoned, and had he not arrived +promptly---- + +``Another fifteen or twenty minutes,'' said he to the old man +when he had him out of immediate danger, ``and I'd have had +nothing to do but sign a certificate of natural death.'' + +``Murder would have been nearer the truth,'' said Martin feebly. +``That there fool Martha!'' + +``Come out from behind that petticoat!'' cried Charlton. +``Didn't I spend the best part of three days in giving you the +correct ideas as to health and disease --in showing you that ALL +disease comes from indigestion-- ALL disease, from falling hair +and sore eyes to weak ankles and corns? And didn't I convince +you that you could eat only the things I told you about?'' + +``Don't hit a man when he's down,'' groaned Hastings. + +``If I don't, you'll do the same idiotic trick again when I get +you up--if I get you up.'' + +Hastings looked quickly at him. This was the first time Charlton +had ever expressed a doubt about his living. ``Do you mean +that?'' he said hoarsely. ``Or are you just trying to scare +me?'' + +``Both,'' said Charlton. ``I'll do my best, but I can't promise. + +I've lost confidence in you. No wonder doctors, after they've +been in practice a few years, stop talking food and digestion to +their patients. I've never been able to convince a single human +being that appetite is not the sign of health, and yielding to it +the way to health. But I've made lots of people angry and have +lost their trade. I had hopes of you. You were such a hopeless +wreck. But no. And you call yourself an intelligent man!'' + +``I'll never do it again,'' said Hastings, pleading, but smiling, +too--Charlton's way of talking delighted him. + +``You think this is a joke,'' said Charlton, shaking his bullet +head. ``Have you any affairs to settle? If you have, send for +your lawyer in the morning.'' + +Fear--the Great Fear--suddenly laid its icy long fingers upon the +throat of the old man. He gasped and his eyes rolled. ``Don't +trifle with me, Charlton,'' he muttered. ``You know you will +pull me through.'' + +``I'll do my best,'' said Charlton. ``I promise nothing. I'm +serious about the lawyer.'' + +``I don't want no lawyer hanging round my bed,'' growled the old +man. ``It'd kill me. I've got nothing to settle. I don't run +things with loose ends. And there's Jinny and Marthy and the +boy--share and share alike.'' + +``Well--you're in no immediate danger. I'll come early +to-morrow.'' + +``Wait till I get to sleep.'' + +``You'll be asleep as soon as the light's down. But I'll stop a +few minutes and talk to your daughter.'' + +Charlton found Jane at the window in the dressing room next her +father's bedroom. He said loudly enough for the old man to +overhear: + +``Your father's all right for the present, so you needn't worry. +Come downstairs with me. He's to go to sleep now.'' + +Jane went in and kissed the bulging bony forehead. ``Good night, +popsy.'' + +``Good night, Jinny dear,'' he said in a softer voice than she +had ever heard from him. ``I'm feeling very comfortable now, and +sleepy. If anything should happen, don't forget what I said +about not temptin' your brother by trustin' him too fur. Look +after your own affairs. Take Mr. Haswell's advice. He's stupid, +but he's honest and careful and safe. You might talk to Dr. +Charlton about things, too. He's straight, and knows what's +what. He's one of them people that gives everybody good advice +but themselves. If anything should happen----'' + +``But nothing's going to happen, popsy.'' + +``It might. I don't seem to care as much as I did. I'm so +tarnation tired. I reckon the goin' ain't as bad as I always +calculated. I didn't know how tired they felt and anxious to +rest.'' + +``I'll turn down the light. The nurse is right in there.'' + +``Yes--turn the light. If anything should happen, there's an +envelope in the top drawer in my desk for Dr. Charlton. But +don't tell him till I'm gone. I don't trust nobody, and if he +knowed there was something waiting, why, there's no telling----'' + +The old man had drowsed off. Jane lowered the light and went +down to join Charlton on the front veranda, where he was smoking +a cigarette. She said: + +``He's asleep.'' + +``He's all right for the next few days,'' said Charlton. ``After +that--I don't know. I'm very doubtful.'' + +Jane was depressed, but not so depressed as she would have been +had not her father so long looked like death and so often been +near dying. + +``Stay at home until I see how this is going to turn out. +Telephone your sister to be within easy call. But don't let her +come here. She's not fit to be about an ill person. The sight +of her pulling a long, sad face might carry him off in a fit of +rage.'' + +Jane observed him with curiosity in the light streaming from the +front hall. ``You're a very practical person aren't you?'' she +said. + +``No romance, no idealism, you mean?'' + +``Yes.'' + +He laughed in his plain, healthy way. ``Not a frill,'' said he. +``I'm interested only in facts. They keep me busy enough.'' + +``You're not married, are you?'' + +``Not yet. But I shall be as soon as I find a woman I want.'' + +``IF you can get her.'' + +``I'll get her, all right,'' replied he. ``No trouble about +that. The woman I want'll want me.'' + +``I'm eager to see her,'' said Jane. ``She'll be a queer one.'' + +``Not necessarily,'' said he. ``But I'll make her a queer one +before I get through with her--queer, in my sense, meaning +sensible and useful.'' + +``You remind me so often of Victor Dorn, yet you're not at all +like him.'' + +``We're in the same business--trying to make the human race fit +to associate with. He looks after the minds; I look after the +bodies. Mine's the humbler branch of the business, perhaps--but +it's equally necessary, and it comes first. The chief thing +that's wrong with human nature is bad health. I'm getting the +world ready for Victor.'' + +``You like him?'' + +``I worship him,'' said Charlton in his most matter-of- fact way. + +``Yet he's just the opposite of you. He's an idealist.'' + +``Who told you that?'' laughed Charlton. ``He's the most +practical, sensible man in this town. You people think he's a +crank because he isn't crazy about money or about stepping round +on the necks of his fellow beings. The truth is, he's got a +sense of proportion-- and a sense of humor--and an idea of a +rational happy life. You're still barbarians, while he's a +civilized man. Ever seen an ignorant yap jeer when a neat, +clean, well- dressed person passed by? Well, you people jeering +at Victor Dorn are like that yap.'' + +``I agree with you,'' said Jane hastily and earnestly. + +``No, you don't,'' replied Charlton, tossing away the end of his +cigarette. ``And so much the worse for you. Good-night, lady.'' + +And away he strode into the darkness, leaving her amused, yet +with a peculiar sense of her own insignificance. + +Charlton was back again early the next morning and spent that +day--and a large part of many days there- after--in working at +the wreck, Martin Hastings, inspecting known weak spots, +searching for unknown ones, patching here and there, trying all +the schemes teeming in his ingenious and supremely sensible mind +in the hope of setting the wreck afloat again. He could not +comprehend why the old man remained alive. He had seen many a +human being go who was in health, in comparison with this +conglomerate of diseases and frailties; yet life there was, and a +most tenacious life. He worked and watched, and from day to day +put off suggesting that they telegraph for the son. The coming +of his son might shake Martin's conviction that he would get +well; it seemed to Charlton that that conviction was the one +thread holding his patient from the abyss where darkness and +silence reign supreme. + +Jane could not leave the grounds. If she had she would have seen +Victor Dorn either not at all or at a distance. For the campaign +was now approaching its climax. + +The public man is always two wholly different personalities. +There is the man the public sees--and fancies it knows. There is +the man known only to his intimates, known imperfectly to them, +perhaps an unknown quantity even to himself until the necessity +for decisive action reveals him to himself and to those in a +position to see what he really did. Unfortunately, it is not the +man the public sees but the hidden man who is elected to the +office. Nothing could be falser than the old saw that sooner or +later a man stands revealed. Sometimes, as we well know, history +has not found out a man after a thousand years of studying him. +And the most familiar, the most constantly observed men in public +life often round out a long career without ever having aroused in +the public more than a faint and formless suspicion as to the +truth about them. + +The chief reason for this is that, in studying a character, no +one is content with the plain and easy way of reaching an +understanding of it--the way of looking only at its ACTS. We all +love to dabble in the metaphysical, to examine and weigh motives +and intentions, to compare ourselves and make wildly erroneous +judgment inevitable by listening to the man's WORDS--his +professions, always more or less dishonest, though perhaps not +always deliberately so. + +In that Remsen City campaign the one party that could profit by +the full and clear truth, and therefore was eager for the truth +as to everything and everybody, was the Workingmen's League. The +Kelly crowd, the House gang, the Citizens' Alliance, all had +their ugly secrets, their secret intentions different from their +public professions. All these were seeking office and power with +a view to increasing or perpetuating or protecting various +abuses, however ardently they might attack, might perhaps +honestly intend to end, certain other and much smaller abuses. +The Workingmen's League said that it would end every abuse +existing law did not securely protect, and it meant what it said. + +Its campaign fund was the dues paid in by its members and the +profits from the New Day. Its financial books were open for free +inspection. Not so the others--and that in itself was proof +enough of sinister intentions. + +Under Victor Dorn's shrewd direction, the League candidates +published, each man in a sworn statement, a complete description +of all the property owned by himself and by his wife. ``The +character of a man's property,'' said the New Day, ``is an +indication of how that man will act in public affairs. +Therefore, every candidate for public trust owes it to the people +to tell them just what his property interests are. The League +candidates do this--and an effective answer the schedules make to +the charge that the League's candidates are men who have `no +stake in the community.' Now, let Mr. Sawyer, Mr. Hull, Mr. +Galland and the rest of the League's opponents do likewise. Let +us read how many shares of water and ice stock Mr. Sawyer owns. +Let us hear from Mr. Hull about his traction holdings--those of +the Hull estate from which he draws his entire income. As for +Mr. Galland, it would be easier for him to give the list of +public and semi-public corporations in which he is not largely +interested. But let him be specific, since he asks the people to +trust him as judge between them and those corporations of which +he is almost as large an owner as is his father-in-law.'' + +This line of attack--and the publication of the largest +contributors to the Republican and Democratic- Reform campaign +fund--caused a great deal of public and private discussion. +Large crowds cheered Hull when he, without doing the charges the +honor of repeating them, denounced the ``undignified and +demagogic methods of our desperate opponents.'' The smaller +Sawyer crowds applauded Sawyer when he waxed indignant over the +attempts of those ``socialists and anarchists, haters of this +free country and spitters upon its glorious flag, to set poor +against rich, to destroy our splendid American tradition of a +free field and no favors, and let the best man win!'' + +Sawyer, and Davy, all the candidates of the machines and the +reformers for that matter, made excellent public appearances. +They discoursed eloquently about popular rights and wrongs. They +denounced corruption; they stood strongly for the right and +renounced and denounced the devil and all his works. They +promised to do far more for the people than did the Leaguers; for +Victor Dorn had trained his men to tell the exact truth --the +difficulty of doing anything for the people at any near time or +in any brief period because at a single election but a small part +of the effective offices could be changed, and sweeping changes +must be made before there could be sweeping benefits. ``We'll do +all we can,'' was their promise. ``Their county government and +their state government and their courts won't let us do much. +But a beginning has to be made. Let's make it!'' + +David Hull's public appearance was especially good. Not so +effective as it has now become, because he was only a novice at +campaigning in that year. But he looked, well--handsome, yet not +too handsome, upper class, but not arrogant, serious, frank and +kindly. And he talked in a plain, honest way--you felt that no +interest, however greedy, desperate and powerful, would dare +approach that man with an improper proposal-- and you quite +forgot in real affairs the crude improper proposal is never the +method of approach. When Davy, with grave emotion, referred to +the ``pitiful efforts to smirch the personal character of +candidates,'' you could not but burn with scorn of the Victor +Dorn tactics. What if Hull did own gas and water and ice and +traction and railway stocks? Mustn't a rich man invest his money +somehow? And how could he more creditably invest it than in +local enterprises and in enterprises that opened up the country +and gave employment to labor? What if the dividends were +improperly, even criminally, earned? Must he therefore throw the +dividends paid him into the street? As for a man of such +associations and financial interests being unfit fairly to +administer public affairs, what balderdash! Who could be more +fit than this educated, high minded man, of large private means, +willing to devote himself to the public service instead of +drinking himself to death or doing nothing at all. You would +have felt, as you looked at Davy and listened to him, that it was +little short of marvelous that a man could be so self- +sacrificing as to consent to run the gauntlet of low mudslingers +for no reward but an office with a salary of three thousand a +year. And you would have been afraid that, if something was not +done to stop these mudslingers, such men as David Hull would +abandon their patriotic efforts to save their country--and then +WHAT would become of the country? + +But Victor and his associates--on the platform, in the paper, in +posters and dodgers and leaflets-- continued to press home the +ugly questions--and continued to call attention to the fact that, +while there had been ample opportunity, none of the candidates +had answered any of the questions. And presently--keeping up +this line of attack--Victor opened out in another. He had +Falconer, the League candidate for judge, draw up a careful +statement of exactly what each public officer could do under +existing law to end or to check the most flagrant of the abuses +from which the people of Remsen City were suffering. With this +statement as a basis, he formulated a series of questions--``Yes +or no? If you are elected, will you or will you not?'' The +League candidates promptly gave the specific pledges. Sawyer +dodged. David Hull was more adroit. He held up a copy of the +list of questions at a big meeting in Odd Fellows' Hall. + +``Our opponents have resorted to a familiar trick-- the question +and the pledge.'' (Applause. Sensation. Fear lest ``our +candidate'' was about to ``put his foot in it.'') ``We need +resort to no tricks. I promptly and frankly, for our whole +ticket, answer their questions. I say, `We will lay hold of ANY +and EVERY abuse, as soon as it presents itself, and WILL SMASH +IT.'' + +Applause, cheers, whistlings--a demonstration lasting nearly five +minutes by a watch held by Gamaliel Tooker, who had a mania for +gathering records of all kinds and who had voted for every +Republican candidate for President since the party was founded. +Davy did not again refer to Victor Dorn's questions. But Victor +continued to press them and to ask whether a public officer ought +not to go and present himself to abuses, instead of waiting for +them to hunt him out and present themselves to him. + +Such was the campaign as the public saw it. And such was in +reality the campaign of the Leaguers. But the real campaign--the +one conducted by Kelly and House--was entirely different. They +were not talking; they were working. + +They were working on a plan based somewhat after this fashion: + +In former and happier days, when people left politics to +politicians and minded their own business, about ninety-five per +cent. of the voters voted their straight party tickets like good +soldiers. Then politics was a high-class business, and +politicians devoted themselves to getting out the full party vote +and to buying or cajoling to one side or the other the doubtful +ten per cent that held the balance of power. That golden age, +however, had passed. People had gotten into the habit of +fancying that, because certain men had grown very, very rich +through their own genius for money-making, supplemented perhaps +by accidental favors from law and public officials, therefore +politics in some way might possibly concern the private citizen, +might account for the curious discrepancy between his labor and +its reward. The impression was growing that, while the energy of +the citizen determined the PRODUCTION of wealth, it was politics +that determined the distribution of wealth. And under the +influence of this impression, the percentage of sober, steady, +reliable voters who ``stood by the grand old party'' had shrunk +to about seventy, while the percentage of voters who had to be +worried about had grown to about thirty. + +The Kelly-House problem was, what shall we do as to that annoying +thirty per cent? + +Kelly--for he was THE brain of the bi-partisan machine, proposed +to throw the election to the House- Reform ``combine.'' His +henchmen and House's made a careful poll, and he sat up all night +growing haggard and puffy-eyed over the result. According to +this poll, not only was the League's entire ticket to be elected, +but also Galland, despite his having the Republican, the +Democratic and the Reform nominations, was to be beaten by the +League's Falconer. He couldn't understand it. The Sawyer +meetings were quite up to his expectations and indicated that the +Republican rank and file was preparing to swallow the Sawyer dose +without blinking. The Alliance and the Democratic meetings were +equally satisfactory. Hull was ``making a hit.'' Everywhere he +had big crowds and enthusiasm. The League meetings were only +slightly better attended than during the last campaign; no +indication there of the League ``landslide.'' + +Yet Kelly could not, dared not, doubt that poll. It was his only +safe guide. And it assured him that the long-dreaded disaster +was at hand. In vain was the clever trick of nominating a +popular, ``clean'' young reformer and opposing him with an +unpopular regular of the most offensive type--more offensive even +than a professional politician of unsavory record. At last +victory was to reward the tactics of Victor Dorn, the slow, +patient building which for several years now had been rasping the +nerves of Boss Kelly. + +What should he do? + +It was clear to him that the doom of the old system was settled. +The plutocrats, the upper-class crowd--the ``silk stockings,'' as +they had been called from the days when men wore +knee-breeches--they fancied that this nation-wide movement was +sporadic, would work out in a few years, and that the people +would return to their allegiance. Kelly had no such delusions. +Issuing from the depths of the people, he understood. They were +learning a little something at last. They were discovering that +the ever higher prices for everything and stationary or falling +wages and salaries had some intimate relation with politics; that +at the national capitol, at the state capitol, in the county +courthouse, in the city hall their share of the nation's vast +annual production of wealth was being determined--and that the +persons doing the dividing, though elected by them, were in the +employ of the plutocracy. Kelly, seeing and comprehending, felt +that it behooved him to get for his masters--and for himself--all +that could be got in the brief remaining time. Not that he was +thinking of giving up the game; nothing so foolish as that. It +would be many a year before the plutocracy could be routed out, +before the people would have the intelligence and the persistence +to claim and to hold their own. In the meantime, they could be +fooled and robbed by a hundred tricks. He was not a +constitutional lawyer, but he had practical good sense, and could +enjoy the joke upon the people in their entanglement in the toils +of their own making. Through fear of governmental tyranny they +had divided authority among legislators, executives and judges, +national, state, local. And, behold, outside of the government, +out where they had never dreamed of looking, had grown up a +tyranny that was perpetuating itself by dodging from one of these +divided authorities to another, eluding capture, wearing out the +not too strong perseverance of popular pursuit. + +But, thanks to Victor Dorn, the local graft was about to be taken +away from the politicians and the plutocracy. How put off that +unpleasant event? Obviously, in the only way left unclosed. The +election must be stolen. + +It is a very human state of mind to feel that what one wants +somehow has already become in a sense one's property. It is even +more profoundly human to feel that what one has had, however +wrongfully, cannot justly be taken away. So Mr. Kelly did not +regard himself as a thief, taking what did not belong to him; no, +he was holding on to and defending his own. + +Victor Dorn had not been in politics since early boyhood without +learning how the political game is conducted in all its branches. + +Because there had never been the remotest chance of victory, +Victor had never made preelection polls of his party. So the +first hint that he got of there being a real foundation for the +belief of some of his associates in an impending victory was when +he found out that Kelly and House were ``colonizing'' voters, and +were selecting election officers with an eye to ``dirty work.'' +These preparations, he knew, could not be making for the same +reason as in the years before the ``gentlemen's agreement'' +between the Republican and the Democratic machines. Kelly, he +knew, wanted House and the Alliance to win. Therefore, the +colonizations in the slums and the appointing of notorious buckos +to positions where they would control the ballot boxes could be +directed only against the Workingmen's League. Kelly must have +accurate information that the League was likely, or at least not +unlikely, to win. + +Victor had thought he had so schooled himself that victory and +defeat were mere words to him. He soon realized how he had +overestimated the power of philosophy over human nature. During +that campaign he had been imagining that he was putting all his +ability, all his energy, all his resourcefulness into the fight. +He now discovered his mistake. Hope--definite hope--of victory +had hardly entered his mind before he was organizing and leading +on such a campaign as Remsen City had never known in all its +history--and Remsen City was in a state where politics is the +chief distraction of the people. Sleep left him; he had no need +of sleep. Day and night his brain worked, pouring out a steady +stream of ideas. He became like a gigantic electric storage +battery to which a hundred, a thousand small batteries come for +renewal. He charged his associates afresh each day. And they in +turn became amazingly more powerful forces for acting upon the +minds of the people. + +In the last week of the campaign it became common talk throughout +the city that the ``Dorn crowd'' would probably carry the +election. Kelly was the only one of the opposition leaders who +could maintain a calm front. Kelly was too seasoned a gambler +even to show his feelings in his countenance, but, had he been +showing them, his following would not have been depressed, for he +had made preparations to meet and overcome any majority short of +unanimity which the people might roll up against him. The +discouragement in the House-Alliance camps became so apparent +that Kelly sent his chief lieutenant, Wellman, successor to the +fugitive Rivers, to House and to David Hull with a message. It +was delivered to Hull in this form: + +``The old man says he wants you to stop going round with your +chin knocking against your knees. He says everybody is saying +you have given up the fight.'' + +``Our meetings these last few days are very discouraging,'' said +Davy gloomily. + +``What's meetin's?'' retorted Wellman. ``You fellows that shoot +off your mouths think you're doing the campaigning. But the real +stuff is being doped up by us fellows who ain't seen or heard. +The old man says you are going to win. That's straight. He +knows. It's only a question of the size of your majority. So +pull yourself together, Mr. Hull, and put the ginger back into +your speeches, and stir up that there gang of dudes. What a gang +of Johnnies and quitters they are!'' + +Hull was looking directly and keenly at the secret messenger. +Upon his lips was a question he dared not ask. Seeing the +impudent, disdainful smile in Wellman's eyes, he hastily shifted +his glance. It was most uncomfortable, this suspicion of the +hidden meaning of the Kelly message--a suspicion ALMOST confirmed +by that mocking smile of the messenger. Hull said with +embarrassment: + +``Tell Mr. Kelly I'm much obliged.'' + +``And you'll begin to make a fight again?'' + +``Certainly,'' said Davy impatiently. + +When he was alone he became once more involved in one of those +internal struggles to prevent himself from seeing--and +smelling--a hideous and malodorous truth. These struggles were +painfully frequent. The only consolation the young reformer +found was that they were increasingly less difficult to end in +the way such struggles must be ended if a high-minded young man +is to make a career in ``practical'' life. + +On election day after he had voted he went for a long walk in the +woods to the south of the town, leaving word at his headquarters +what direction he had taken. After walking two hours he sat down +on a log in the shade near where the highroad crossed Foaming +Creek. He became so absorbed in his thoughts that he sprang to +his feet with a wild look when Selma's voice said, close by: + +``May I interrupt a moment, Mr. Hull?'' + +He recovered slowly. His cheeks were pale and his voice +uncertain as he replied: + +``You? I beg your pardon. This campaign has played smash with +my nerves.'' + +He now noted that she was regarding him with a glance so intense +that it seemed to concentrate all the passion and energy in that +slim, nervous body of hers. He said uncomfortably: + +``You wished to see me?'' + +``I wonder what you were thinking about,'' she said in her +impetuous, direct way. ``It makes me almost afraid to ask what I +came to ask.'' + +``Won't you sit?'' said he. + +``No, thanks,'' replied she. + +``Then you'll compel me to stand. And I'm horribly tired.'' + +She seated herself upon the log. He made himself comfortable at +its other end. + +``I've just come from Victor Dorn's house,'' said she. ``There +was a consultation among the leaders of our party. We have +learned that your people--Kelly and House--are going to steal the +election on the count this evening. They are committing +wholesale frauds now-- sending round gangs of repeaters, +intimidating our voters, openly buying votes at the polling +places-- paying men as much not to vote as they usually pay for +votes.'' + +Davy, though latterly he had grown so much older and graver that +no one now thought of him as Davy, contrived to muster a smile of +amusement. ``You oughtn't to let them deceive you with that +silly talk, Miss Gordon. The losers always indulge in it. Your +good sense must tell you how foolish it is. The police are on +guard, and the courts of justice are open.'' + +``Yes--the police are on guard--to protect fraud and to drive us +away from the polls. And the courts are open--but not for us.'' + +David was gentle with her. ``I know how sincere you are, +Selma,'' said he. ``No doubt you believe those things. Perhaps +Dorn believes them, also--from repeating them so often. But all +the same I'm sorry to hear you say them.'' + +He tried to look at her. He found that his eyes were more +comfortable when his glance was elsewhere. + +``This has been a sad campaign to me,'' he went on. ``I did not +appreciate before what demagogery meant --how dangerous it +is--how wicked, how criminally wicked it is for men to stir up +the lower classes against the educated leadership of the +community. + +Selma laughed contemptuously. ``What nonsense, David Hull--and +from YOU!'' she cried. ``By educated leadership do you mean the +traction and gas and water and coal and iron and produce thieves? + +Or do you mean the officials and the judges who protect them and +license them to rob?'' Her eyes flashed. ``At this very moment, +in our town, those thieves and their agents, the police and the +courts, are committing the most frightful crime known to a free +people. Yet the masses are submitting peaceably. How long the +upper class has to indulge in violence, and how savagely cruel it +has to be, before the people even murmur. But I didn't come here +to remind you of what you already know. I came to ask you, as a +man whom I have respected, to assert his manhood--if there is any +of it left after this campaign of falsehood and shifting.'' + +``Selma!'' he protested energetically, but still avoiding her +eyes. + +``Those wretches are stealing that election for you, David Hull. +Are you going to stand for it? Or, will you go into town and +force Kelly to stop?'' + +``If anything wrong is being done by Kelly,'' said David, ``it +must be for Sawyer.'' + +Selma rose. ``At our consultation,'' said she quietly and even +with no suggestion of repressed emotion, ``they debated coming to +you and laying the facts before you. They decided against it. +They were right; I was wrong. I pity you, David Hull. +Good-by.'' + +She walked away. He hesitated, observing her. His eyes lighted +up with the passion he believed his good sense had conquered. +``Selma, don't misjudge me!'' he cried, following her. ``I am +not the scoundrel they're making you believe me. I love you!'' + +She wheeled upon him so fiercely that he started back. ``How +dare you!'' she said, her voice choking with anger. ``You +miserable fraud! You bellwether for the plutocracy, to lead +reform movements off on a false scent, off into the marshes where +they'll be suffocated.'' She looked at him from head to foot +with a withering glance. ``No doubt, you'll have what's called a +successful career. You'll be their traitor leader for the +radicals they want to bring to confusion. When the people cry +for a reform you'll shout louder than anybody else--and you'll be +made leader--and you'll lead--into the marshes. Your followers +will perish, but you'll come back, ready for the next treachery +for which the plutocracy needs you. And you'll look honest and +respectable--and you'll talk virtue and reform and justice. But +you'll know what you are yourself. David Hull, I despise you as +much as you despise yourself.'' + +He did not follow as she walked away. He returned to the log, +and slowly reseated himself. He was glad of the violent headache +that made thought impossible. + + +Remsen City, boss-ridden since the Civil War, had experienced +many a turbulent election day and night. The rivalries of the +two bosses, contending for the spoils where the electorate was +evenly divided, had made the polling places in the poorer +quarters dangerous all day and scenes of rioting at night. But +latterly there had been a notable improvement. People who +entertained the pleasant and widespread delusion that statute +laws offset the habits and customs of men, restrain the strong +and protect the weak, attributed the improvement to sundry +vigorously worded enactments of the legislature on the subject of +election frauds. In fact, the real bottom cause of the change +was the ``gentlemen's agreement'' between the two party machines +whereunder both entered the service of the same master, the +plutocracy. + +Never in Remsen City history had there been grosser frauds than +those of this famous election day, and never had the frauds been +so open. A day of scandal was followed by an evening of shame; +for to overcome the League the henchmen of Kelly and House had to +do a great deal of counting out and counting in, of mutilating +ballots, of destroying boxes with their contents. Yet never had +Remsen City seen so peaceful an election. Representatives of the +League were at every polling place. They protested; they took +names of principals and witnesses in each case of real or +suspected fraud. They appealed to the courts from time to time +and got rulings--always against them, even where the letter of +the decision was in their favor. They did all this in the +quietest manner conceivable, without so much as an expression of +indignation. And when the results were announced--a sweeping +victory for Hull and the fusion ticket, Hugo Galland elected by +five hundred over Falconer--the Leaguers made no counter +demonstration as the drunken gangs of machine heelers paraded in +the streets with bands and torches. + +Kelly observed and was uneasy. What could be the meaning of this +meek acceptance of a theft so flagrant that the whole town was +talking about it? What was Victor Dorn's ``game''? + +He discovered the next day. The executive committee of the +League worked all night; the League's printers and presses worked +from six o'clock in the morning until ten. At half-past ten +Remsen City was flooded with a special edition of the New Day, +given away by Leaguers and their wives and sons and daughters--a +monster special edition paid for with the last money in the +League's small campaign chest. This special was a full account +of the frauds that had been committed. No indictment could have +been more complete, could have carried within itself more +convincing proofs of the truth of its charges. The New Day +declared that the frauds were far more extensive than it was able +to prove; but it insisted upon, and took into account, only those +frauds that could be proved in a ``court of justice --if Remsen +City had a court of justice, which the treatment of the League's +protectors at the Courthouse yesterday shows that it has not.'' +The results of the League's investigations were tabulated. The +New Day showed: + +First, that while Harbinger, the League candidate for Mayor, had +actually polled 5,280 votes at least, and David Hull had polled +less than 3,950, the election had been so manipulated that in the +official count 4,827 votes were given to Hull and 3,980 votes to +Harbinger. + +Second, that in the actual vote Falconer had beaten Hugo Galland +by 1,230 at least; that in the official count Galland was +declared elected by a majority of 672. + +Third, that these results were brought about by wholesale +fraudulent voting, one gang of twenty-two repeaters casting +upwards of a thousand votes at the various polling places; also +by false counting, the number of votes reported exceeding the +number cast by between two and three thousand. + +As a piece of workmanship the document was an amazing +illustration of the genius of Victor Dorn. Instead of violence +against violence, instead of vague accusation, here was a calm, +orderly proof of the League's case, of the outrage that had been +done the city and its citizens. Before night fell the day after +the election there was no one in Remsen City who did not know the +truth. + +The three daily newspapers ignored the special. They continued +to congratulate Remsen City upon the ``vindication of the city's +fame for sound political sense,'' as if there had been no protest +against the official version of the election returns. Nor did +the press of the state or the country contain any reference to +the happenings at Remsen City. But Remsen City knew, and that +was the main point sought by Victor Dorn. + +A committee of the League with copies of the special edition and +transcripts of the proofs in the possession of the League went in +search of David Hull and Hugo Galland. Both were out of town, +``resting in retirement from the fatigue of the campaign.'' The +prosecuting attorney of the county was seen, took the documents, +said he would look into the matter, bowed the committee out--and +did as Kelly counted on his doing. The grand jury heard, but +could not see its way clear to returning indictments; no one was +upon a grand jury in that county unless he had been passed by +Kelly or House. Judge Freilig and Judge Lansing referred the +committee to the grand jury and to the county prosecutor. + +When the League had tried the last avenue to official justice and +had found the way barred, House meeting Kelly in the Palace Hotel +cafe', said: + +``Well, Richard, I guess it's all over.'' Kelly nodded. ``You've +got away with the goods.'' + +``I'm surprised at Dorn's taking it so quietly,'' said House. +``I rather expected he'd make trouble.'' + +Kelly vented a short, grunting laugh. ``Trouble-- hell!'' +ejaculated he. ``If he'd 'a' kicked up a fight we'd 'a' had him. + +But he was too 'cute for that, damn him. So next time he wins.'' + +``Oh, folks ain't got no memories--especially for politics,'' +said House easily. + +``You'll see,'' retorted Kelly. ``The next mayor of this town'll +be a Leaguer, and by a majority that can't be trifled with. So +make hay while the sun shines, Joe. After this administration +there'll be a long stretch of bad weather for haying.'' + +``I'm trying to get hold of Hull,'' said House, and it was not +difficult to read his train of thought. ``I was a LEETLE afraid +he was going to be scared by that document of Dorn's--and was +going to do something crazy.'' + +Again Kelly emitted his queer grunting laugh. ``I guess he was a +LEETLE afraid he would, too, and ran away and hid to get back his +nerve.'' + +``Oh, he's all right. He's a pushing, level-headed fellow, and +won't make no trouble. Don't you think so?'' + +``Trouble? I should say not. How can he--if he takes the job?'' + +To which obvious logic no assent was necessary. + +Davy's abrupt departure was for the exact reason Mr. Kelly +ascribed. And he had taken Hugo with him because he feared that +he would say or do something to keep the scandal from dying the +quick death of all scandals. There was the less difficulty in +dissuading him from staying to sun himself in the glories of his +new rank and title because his wife had cast him adrift for the +time and was stopping at the house of her father, whose death was +hourly expected. + +Old Hastings had been in a stupor for several weeks. He +astonished everybody, except Dr. Charlton, by rousing on election +night and asking how the battle had gone. + +``And he seemed to understand what I told him,'' said Jane. + +``Certainly he understood,'' replied Charlton. ``The only part +of him that's in any sort of condition is his mind, because it's +the only part of him that's been properly exercised. Most people +die at the top first because they've never in all their lives +used their minds when they could possibly avoid it.'' + +In the week following the election he came out of his stupor +again. He said to the nurse: + +``It's about supper time, ain't it?'' + +``Yes,'' answered she. ``They're all down at din-- supper. +Shall I call them?'' + +``No,'' said he. ``I want to go down to her room.'' + +``To Miss Jane's room?'' asked the puzzled nurse. + +``To my wife's room,'' said Hastings crossly. + +The nurse, a stranger, thought his mind was wandering. +``Certainly,'' said she soothingly. ``In a few minutes--as soon +as you've rested a while.'' + +``You're a fool!'' mumbled Hastings. ``Call Jinny.'' + +The nurse obeyed. When he repeated his request to Jane, she +hesitated. The tears rolled down his cheeks. ``I know what I'm +about,'' he pleaded. ``Send for Charlton. He'll tell you to let +me have my way.'' + +Jane decided that it was best to yield. The shrunken figure, +weighing so little that it was terrifying to lift it, was wrapped +warmly, and put in an invalid chair. With much difficulty the +chair was got out into the hall and down the stairs. Then they +wheeled it into the room where he was in the habit of sitting +after supper. When he was opposite the atrocious crayon +enlargement of his wife an expression of supreme content settled +upon his features. Said he: + +``Go back to your supper, Jinny. Take the nurse woman with you. +I want to be by myself.'' + +The nurse glanced stealthily in from time to time during the next +hour. She saw that his eyes were open, were fixed upon the +picture. When Jane came she ventured to enter. She said: + +``Do you mind my sitting with you, father?'' + +He did not answer. She went to him, touched him. He was dead. + +As a rule death is not without mitigations, consolations even. +Where it is preceded by a long and troublesome illness, +disrupting the routine of the family and keeping everybody from +doing the things he or she wishes, it comes as a relief. In this +particular case not only was the death a relief, but also the +estate of the dead man provided all the chief mourners with +instant and absorbing occupation. If he had left a will, the +acrimony of the heirs would have been caused by dissatisfaction +with his way of distributing the property. Leaving no will, he +plunged the three heirs--or, rather, the five heirs, for the +husband of Martha and the wife of the son were most important +factors--he plunged the five heirs into a ferment of furious +dispute as to who was to have what. Martha and her husband and +the daughter-in-law were people of exceedingly small mind. +Trifles, therefore, agitated them to the exclusion of larger +matters. The three fell to quarreling violently over the +division of silverware, jewelry and furniture. Jane was so +enraged by the ``disgusting spectacle'' that she proceeded to +take part in it and to demand everything which she thought it +would irritate Martha Galland or Irene Hastings to have to give +up. + +The three women and Hugo--for Hugo loved petty wrangling--spent +day after day in the bitterest quarrels. Each morning Jane, +ashamed overnight, would issue from her room resolved to have no +part in the vulgar rowdyism. Before an hour had passed she would +be the angriest of the disputants. Except her own unquestioned +belongings there wasn't a thing in the house or stables about +which she cared in the least. But there was a principle at +stake--and for principle she would fight in the last ditch. + +None of them wished to call in arbitrators or executors; why go +to that expense? So, the bickering and wrangling, the insults +and tears and sneers went on from day to day. At last they +settled the whole matter by lot--and by a series of easily +arranged exchanges where the results of the drawings were +unsatisfactory. Peace was restored, but not liking. Each of the +three groups--Hugo and Martha, Will and Irene, Jane in a group by +herself--detested the other two. They felt that they had found +each other out. As Martha said to Hugo, ``It takes a thing of +this kind to show people up in their true colors.'' Or, as Jane +said to Doctor Charlton, ``What beasts human beings are!'' + +Said he: ``What beasts circumstance makes of some o them +sometimes.'' + +``You are charitable,'' said Jane. + +``I am scientific,'' replied he. ``It's very intelligent to go +about distributing praise and blame. To do that is to obey a +slightly higher development of the instinct that leads one to +scowl at and curse the stone he stumps his toe on. The sensible +thing to do is to look at the causes of things--of brutishness in +human beings, for example--and to remove those causes.'' + +``It was wonderful, the way you dragged father back to life and +almost saved him. That reminds me. Wait a second, please.'' + +She went up to her room and got the envelope addressed to +Charlton which she had found in the drawer, as her father +directed. Charlton opened it, took out five bank notes each of a +thousand dollars. She glanced at the money, then at his face. +It did not express the emotion she was expecting. On the +contrary, its look was of pleased curiosity. + +``Five thousand dollars,'' he said, reflectively. ``Your father +certainly was a queer mixture of surprises and contradictions. +Now, who would have suspected him of a piece of sentiment like +this? Pure sentiment. He must have felt that I'd not be able to +save him, and he knew my bill wouldn't be one-tenth this sum.'' + +``He liked you, and admired you,'' said Jane. + +``He was very generous where he liked and admired.'' + +Charlton put the money back in the envelope, put the envelope in +his pocket. ``I'll give the money to the Children's Hospital,'' +said he. ``About six months ago I completed the sum I had fixed +on as necessary to my independence; so, I've no further use for +money--except to use it up as it comes in.'' + +``You may marry some day,'' suggested Jane. + +``Not a woman who wishes to be left richer than independent,'' +replied he. ``As for the children, they'll be brought up to earn +their own independence. I'll leave only incubators and keepsakes +when I die. But no estate. I'm not that foolish and +inconsiderate.'' + +``What a queer idea!'' exclaimed Jane. + +``On the contrary, it's simplest common sense. The idea of +giving people something they haven't earned-- that's the queer +idea.'' + +``You are SO like Victor Dorn!'' + +``That reminds me!'' exclaimed Charlton. ``It was very negligent +of me to forget. The day your father died I dropped in on Victor +and told him--him and Selma Gordon--about it. And both asked me +to take you their sympathy. They said a great deal about your +love for your father, and how sad it was to lose him. They were +really distressed.'' + +Jane's face almost brightened. ``I've been rather hurt because I +hadn't received a word of sympathy from-- them,'' she said. + +``They'd have come, themselves, except that politics has made a +very ugly feeling against them--and Galland's your +brother-in-law.'' + +``I understand,'' said Jane. ``But I'm not Galland-- and not of +that party.'' + +``Oh, yes, you are of that party,'' replied Charlton. ``You draw +your income from it, and one belongs to whatever he draws his +income from. Civilization means property--as yet. And it +doesn't mean men and women --as yet. So, to know the man or the +woman we look at the property.'' + +``That's hideously unjust,'' cried Jane. + +``Don't be utterly egotistical,'' said Charlton. ``Don't attach +so much importance to your little, mortal, WEAK personality. Try +to realize that you're a mere chip in the great game of chance. +You're a chip with the letter P on it--which stands for +Plutocracy. And you'll be played as you're labeled.'' + +``You make it very hard for any one to like you.'' + +``Well--good-by, then.'' + +And ignoring her hasty, half-laughing, half-serious protests he +took himself away. She was intensely irritated. A rapid change +in her outward character had been going forward since her +father's death--a change in the direction of intensifying the +traits that had always been really dominant, but had been less +apparent because softened by other traits now rapidly whithering. + +The cause of the change was her inheritance. + +Martin Hastings, remaining all his life in utter ignorance of the +showy uses of wealth and looking on it with the eyes of a farm +hand, had remained the enriched man of the lower classes, at +heart a member of his original class to the end. The effect of +this upon Jane had been to keep in check all the showy and +arrogant, all the upper class, tendencies which education and +travel among the upper classes of the East and of Europe had +implanted in her. So long as plain old Martin lived, she could +not FEEL the position she had--or, rather, would some day +have--in the modern social system. But just as soon as he passed +away, just as soon as she became a great heiress, actually in +possession of that which made the world adore, that which would +buy servility, flattery, awe--just so soon did she begin to be an +upper-class lady. + +She had acquired a superficial knowledge of business --enough to +enable her to understand what the various items in the long, long +schedule of her holdings meant. Symbols of her importance, of +her power. She had studied the ``great ladies'' she had met in +her travels and visitings. She had been impressed by the charm +of the artistic, carefully cultivated air of simplicity and +equality affected by the greatest of these great ladies as those +born to wealth and position. To be gentle and natural, to be +gracious--that was the ``proper thing.'' So, she now adopted a +manner that was if anything too kindly. Her pose, her mask, +behind which she was concealing her swollen and still swelling +pride and sense of superiority, as yet fitted badly. She +``overacted,'' as youth is apt to do. She would have given a +shrewd observer--one not dazzled by her wealth beyond the power +of clear sight--the impression that she was pitying the rest of +mankind, much as we all pity and forbear with a hopeless cripple. + +But the average observer would simply have said: ``What a sweet, +natural girl, so unspoiled by her wealth!''--just as the hopeless +cripple says, ``What a polite person,'' as he gets the benefit of +effusive good manners that would, if he were shrewd, painfully +remind him that he was an unfortunate creature. + +Of all the weeds that infest the human garden snobbishness, the +commonest, is the most prolific, and it is a mighty cross +breeder, too--modifying every flower in the garden, changing +colors from rich to glaring, changing odors from perfumes to +sickening-sweet or to stenches. The dead hands of Martin +Hastings scattered showers of shining gold upon his daughter's +garden; and from these seeds was springing a heavy crop of that +most prolific of weeds. + +She was beginning to resent Charlton's manner-- bluff, +unceremonious, candid, at times rude. He treated women exactly +as he treated men, and he treated all men as intimates, free and +easy fellow travelers afoot upon a dusty, vulgar highway. She +had found charm in that manner, so natural to the man of no +pretense, of splendid physical proportions, of the health of a +fine tree. She was beginning to get into the state of mind at +which practically all very rich people in a civilized society +sooner or later arrive--a state of mind that makes it impossible +for any to live with or near them except hirelings and +dependents. The habit of power of any kind breeds intolerance of +equality of level intercourse. This is held in check, often held +entirely in check, where the power is based upon mental +superiority; for the very superiority of the mind keeps alive the +sense of humor and the sense of proportion. Not so the habit of +money power. For money power is brutal, mindless. And as it is +the only real power in any and all aristocracies, aristocracies +are inevitably brutal and brutalizing. + +If Jane had been poor, or had remained a few years longer--until +her character was better set--under the restraining influence of +her unfrilled and unfrillable father, her passion for power, for +superiority would probably have impelled her to develop her mind +into a source of power and position. Fate abruptly gave her the +speediest and easiest means to power known in our plutocratic +civilization. She would have had to be superhuman in beauty of +character or a genius in mind to have rejected the short and easy +way to her goal and struggled on in the long and hard--and +doubtful--way. + +She did not herself appreciate the change within herself. She +fancied she was still what she had been two weeks before. For as +yet nothing had occurred to enable her to realize her changed +direction, her changed view of life. Thus, she was still +thinking of Victor Dorn as she had thought of him; and she was +impatient to see him. She was now free FREE! She could, without +consulting anybody, have what she wanted. And she wanted Victor +Dorn. + +She had dropped from her horse and with her arm through the +bridle was strolling along one of the quieter roads which Victor +often took in his rambles. It was a tonic October day, with +floods of sunshine upon the gorgeous autumnal foliage, never more +gorgeous than in that fall of the happiest alternations of frost +and warmth. She heard the pleasant rustle of quick steps in the +fallen leaves that carpeted the byroad. She knew it was he +before she glanced; and his first view of her face was of its +beauty enhanced by a color as delicate and charming as that in +the leaves about them. + +She looked at his hands in which he was holding something half +concealed. ``What is it?'' she said, to cover her agitation. + +He opened his hands a little wider. ``A bird,'' said he. ``Some +hunter has broken its wing. I'm taking it to Charlton for +repairs and a fair start for its winter down South.'' + +His eyes noted for an instant significantly her sombre riding +costume, then sought her eyes with an expression of simple and +friendly sympathy. The tears came to her eyes, and she turned +her face away. She for the first time had a sense of loss, a +moving memory of her father's goodness to her, of an element of +tenderness that had passed out of her life forever. And she felt +abjectly ashamed--ashamed of her relief at the lifting of the +burden of his long struggle against death, ashamed of her +miserable wranglings with Martha and Billy's wife, ashamed of her +forgetfulness of her father in the exultation over her wealth, +ashamed of the elaborately fashionable mourning she was +wearing--and of the black horse she had bought to match. She +hoped he would not observe these last flauntings of the purely +formal character of a grief that was being utilized to make a +display of fashionableness. + +``You always bring out the best there is in me,'' said she. + +He stood silently before her--not in embarrassment, for he was +rarely self-conscious enough to be embarrassed, but refraining +from speech simply because there was nothing to say. + +``I haven't heard any of the details of the election,'' she went +on. ``Did you come out as well as you hoped?'' + +``Better,'' said he. ``As a result of the election the +membership of the League has already a little more than doubled. +We could have quadrupled it, but we are somewhat strict in our +requirements. We want only those who will stay members as long +as they stay citizens of Remsen City. But I must go on to +Charlton or he'll be out on his rounds.'' + +She caught his glance, which was inclined to avoid hers. She +gave him a pleading look. ``I'll walk with you part of the +way,'' she said. + +He seemed to be searching for an excuse to get away. Whether +because he failed to find it or because he changed his mind, he +said: ``You'll not mind going at a good gait?'' + +``I'll ride,'' said she. ``It's not comfortable, walking fast in +these boots.'' + +He stood by to help her, but let her get into the saddle alone. +She smiled down at him with a little coquetry. ``Are you afraid +to touch me--to-day?'' she asked. + +He laughed: ``The bird IS merely an excuse,'' he admitted. +``I've got back my self-control, and I purpose to keep it.'' + +She flushed angrily. His frankness now seemed to her to be +flavored with impertinent assurance. ``That's amusing,'' said +she, with an unpleasant smile. ``You have an extraordinary +opinion of yourself, haven't you?'' + +He shrugged his shoulders as if the subject did not interest him +and set off at a gait that compelled her horse to a rapid walk. +She said presently: + +``I'm going to live at the old place alone for the present. +You'll come to see me?'' + +He looked at her. ``No,'' he said. ``As I told you a moment +ago, that's over. You'll have to find some one else to amuse +you--for, I understand perfectly, Jane, that you were only doing +what's called flirting. That sort of thing is a waste of +time--for me. I'm not competent to judge whether it's a waste +for you.'' + +She looked coldly down at him. ``You have changed since I last +saw you,'' she said. ``I don't mean the change in your manner +toward me. I mean something deeper. I've often heard that +politics makes a man deteriorate. You must be careful, Victor.'' + +``I must think about that,'' said he. ``Thank you for warning +me.'' + +His prompt acceptance of her insincere criticism made her +straightway repentant. ``No, it's I that have changed,'' she +said. ``Oh, I'm horrid!--simply horrid. I'm in despair about +myself.'' + +``Any one who thinks about himself is bound to be,'' said he +philosophically. ``That's why one has to keep busy in order to +keep contented.'' He halted. ``I can save a mile and half an +hour by crossing these fields.'' He held the wounded bird in one +hand very carefully while he lifted his hat. + +She colored deeply. ``Victor,'' she said, ``isn't there any way +that you and I can be friends?'' + +``Yes,'' replied he. ``As I told you before, by becoming one of +us. Those are impossible terms, of course. But that's the only +way by which we could be of use to each other. Jane, if I, +professing what I do profess, offered to be friends with you on +any other terms, you'd be very foolish not to reject my offer. +For, it would mean that I was a fraud. Don't you see that?'' + +``Yes,'' she admitted. ``But when I am with you I see everything +exactly as you represent it.'' + +``It's fortunate for you that I'm not disposed to take advantage +of that--isn't it?'' said he, with good-humored irony. + +``You don't believe me!'' + +``Not altogether,'' he confessed. ``To be quite candid, I think +that for some reason or other I rouse in you an irresistible +desire to pose. I doubt if you realize it-- wholly. But you'd +be hard pressed just where to draw the line between the sincere +and the insincere, wouldn't you--honestly?'' + +She sat moodily combing at her horse's mane. + +``I know it's cruel,'' he went on lightly, ``to deny anything, +however small, to a young lady who has always had her own way. +But in self-defense I must do it.'' + +``Why DO I take these things from you?'' she cried, in sudden +exasperation. And touching her horse with her stick, she was off +at a gallop. + + + +IX + + +From anger against Victor Dorn, Jane passed to anger against +herself. This was soon followed by a mood of self-denunciation, +by astonishment at the follies of which she had been guilty, by +shame for them. She could not scoff or scorn herself out of the +infatuation. But at least she could control herself against +yielding to it. Recalling and reviewing all he had said, +she--that is, her vanity--decided that the most important remark, +the only really important remark, was his declaration of +disbelief in her sincerity. ``The reason he has repulsed me--and +a very good reason it is--is that he thinks I am simply amusing +myself. If he thought I was in earnest, he would act very +differently. Very shrewd of him!'' + +Did she believe this? Certainly not. But she convinced herself +that she believed it, and so saved her pride. From this point +she proceeded by easy stages to doubting whether, if Victor had +taken her at her word, she would have married him. And soon she +had convinced herself that she had gone so far only through her +passion for conquest, that at the first sign of his yielding her +good sense would have asserted itself and she could have +retreated. + +``He knew me better than I knew myself,'' said she-- not so +thoroughly convinced as her pride would have liked, but far +better content with herself than in those unhappy hours of +humiliation after her last talk with him. + +From the beginning of her infatuation there had been only a few +days, hardly more than a few hours, when the voice of prudence +and good sense had been silenced. Yes, he was right; they were +not suited to each other, and a marriage between them would have +been absurd. He did belong to a different, to a lower class, and +he could never have understood her. Refinement, taste, the +things of the life of luxury and leisure were incomprehensible to +him. It might be unjust that the many had to toil in squalor and +sordidness while the few were privileged to cultivate and to +enjoy the graces and the beauties; but, unjust or in some +mysterious way just, there was the fact. Her life was marked out +for her; she was of the elect. She would do well to accept her +good fortune and live as the gods had ordained for her. + +If Victor had been different in that one respect! . . . The +infatuation, too, was a fact. The wise course was flight--and +she fled. + +That winter, in Chicago and in New York, Jane amused herself--in +the ways devised by latter day impatience with the folly of +wasting a precious part of the one brief life in useless grief or +pretense of grief. In Remsen City she would have had to be very +quiet indeed, under penalty of horrifying public sentiment. But +Chicago and New York knew nothing of her grief, cared nothing +about grief of any kind. People in deep mourning were found in +the theaters, in the gay restaurants, wherever any enjoyment was +to be had; and very sensible it was of them, and proof of the +sincerity of their sorrow--for sincere sorrow seeks consolation +lest it go mad and commit suicide--does it not? + +Jane, young, beautiful, rich, clever, had a very good time +indeed--so good that in the spring, instead of going back to +Remsen City to rest, she went abroad. More enjoyment--or, at +least, more of the things that fill in the time and spare one the +necessity of thinking. + +In August she suddenly left her friends at St. Moritz and +journeyed back to Remsen City as fast as train and boat and train +could take her. And on the front veranda of the old house she +sat herself down and looked out over the familiar landscape and +listened to the katydids lulling the woods and the fields, and +was bored and wondered why she had come. + +In a reckless mood she went down to see Victor Dorn. ``I am +cured,'' she said to herself. ``I must be cured. I simply can't +be small and silly enough to care for a country town labor +agitator after all I've been through --after the attentions I've +had and the men of the world I've met. I'm cured, and I must +prove it to myself .'' + +In the side yard Alice Sherrill and her children and several +neighbor girls were putting up pears and peaches, blackberries +and plums. The air was heavy with delicious odors of ripe and +perfect fruit, and the laughter, the bright healthy faces, the +strong graceful bodies in all manner of poses at the work +required made a scene that brought tears to Jane's eyes. Why +tears she could not have explained, but there they were. At far +end of the arbor, looking exactly as he had in the same place the +year before, sat Victor Dorn, writing. He glanced up, saw her! +Into his face came a look of welcome that warmed her chilled +heart. + +``Hel-LO!'' he cried, starting up. ``I AM glad to see you.'' + +``I'm mighty glad to be back,'' said she, lapsing with keen +pleasure into her native dialect. + +He took both her hands and shook them cordially, then looked at +her from head to foot admiringly. ``The latest from the Rue de +la Paix, I suppose?'' said he. + +They seated themselves with the table between them. She, under +cover of commonplaces about her travels, examined him with the +utmost calmness. She saw every point wherein he fell short of +the men of her class-- the sort of men she ought to like and +admire. But, oh, how dull and stale and narrow and petty they +were, beside this man. She knew now why she had fled. She +didn't want to love Victor Dorn, or to marry him--or his sort of +man. But he, his intense aliveness, his keen, supple mind, had +spoiled her for those others. One of them she could not marry. +``I should go mad with boredom. One can no more live intimately +with fashion than one can eat gold and drink diamonds. And, oh, +but I am hungry and thirsty!'' + +``So you've had a good time?'' he was saying. + +Superb,'' replied she. ``Such scenery--such variety of people. +I love Europe. But--I'm glad to be home again.'' + +``I don't see how you can stand it,'' said Victor. + +``Why?'' inquired she in surprise. + +``Unless I had an intense personal interest in the most active +kind of life in a place like this, I should either fly or take to +drink,'' replied he. ``In this world you've either got to invent +occupation for yourself or else keep where amusements and +distractions are thrust at you from rising till bed-time. And no +amusements are thrust at you in Remsen City.'' + +``But I've been trying the life of being amused,'' said Jane, +``and I've got enough.'' + +``For the moment,'' said Victor, laughing. ``You'll go back. +You've got to. What else is there for you?'' + +Her eyes abruptly became serious. ``That's what I've come home +to find out,'' said she. Hesitatingly, ``That's why I've come +here to-day.'' + +He became curiously quiet--stared at the writing before him on +the table. After a while he said: + +``Jane, I was entirely too glad to see you to-day. I had----'' + +``Don't say that,'' she pleaded. ``Victor, it isn't a +weakness----'' + +His hand resting upon the table clenched into a fist and his +brows drew down. ``There can be no question but that it is a +weakness and a folly,'' he pushed on. ``I will not spoil your +life and mine. You are not for me, and I am not for you. The +reason we hang on to this is because each of us has a streak of +tenacity. We don't want each other, but we are so made that we +can't let go of an idea once it has gotten into our heads.'' + +``There is another reason,'' she said gently. ``We are, both of +us, alone--and lonesome, Victor.'' + +``But I'm not alone. I'm not lonesome----'' And there he +abruptly halted, to gaze at her with the expression of awakening +and astonishment. ``I believe I'm wrong. I believe you're +right,'' he exclaimed. ``I had never thought of that before.'' + +``You've been imagining your work, your cause was enough,'' she +went on in a quiet rational way that was a revelation--and a +self-revelation--of the real Jane Hastings. ``But it isn't. +There's a whole other side of your nature--the--the--the private +side--that's the expression--the private side. And you've been +denying to it its rights.'' + +He reflected, nodded slowly. ``I believe that's the truth,'' he +said. ``It explains a curious feeling I've had --a sort of +shriveling sensation.'' He gazed thoughtfully at her, his face +gradually relaxing into a merry smile. + +``What is it?'' asked she, smiling in turn. + +``We've both got to fall in love and marry,'' said he. ``Not +with each other, of course--for we're not in any way mated. But +love and marriage and the rest of it-- that's the solution. I +don't need it quite as much as you do, for I've got my work. But +I need it. Now that I see things in the right light I wonder +that I've been so stupidly blind. Why do we human beings always +overlook the obvious?'' + +``It isn't easy to marry,'' said Jane, rather drearily. ``It +isn't easy to find some one with whom one would be willing to +pass one's life. I've had several chances-- one or two of them +not entirely mercenary, I think. But not one that I could bring +myself to accept.'' + +``Vanity--vanity,'' said Victor. ``Almost any human being is +interesting and attractive if one will stop thinking about +oneself and concentrate on him or her.'' + +She smiled. ``It's evident you've never tried to fall in love.'' + +``The nearest I ever came to it was with you,'' replied he. +``But that was, of course, out of the question.'' + +``I don't admit that,'' said she, with an amusing kind of timid +obstinacy. + +``Let's be honest and natural with each other,'' urged he. +``Now, Jane, admit that in your heart of hearts you feel you +ought not to marry me.'' + +Her glance avoided his. + +``Come--own up!'' cried he. + +``I have thought of that side of it,'' she conceded. + +``And if I hadn't piqued you by thinking of it, too, you'd never +have lingered on any other side of it,'' said he. ``Well! Now +that we've cleared the ground-- there's Davy. He's to be +nominated by the Republicans for Governor next week.'' + +``Davy? I had almost forgotten him. I'll think of Davy--and let +you know . . . And you? Who is there for you?'' + +``Oh--no one you know. My sister has recommended several girls +from time to time. I'll see.'' + +Jane gave the freest and heartiest laugh that had passed her lips +in more than a year. It was thus free and unrestrained because +he had not said what she was fearing he would say--had not +suggested the woman nearest him, the obvious woman. So eager was +she to discover what he thought of Selma, that she could hardly +restrain herself from suggesting her. Before they could say +anything more, two men came to talk with him. Jane could not but +leave. + +She dined that night at Mrs. Sherlock's--Mrs. Sherlock was Davy's +oldest sister. Davy took her in, they talked--about his +career--through dinner, and he walked home with her in the +moonlight. He was full of his approaching nomination. He had +been making what is known as a good record, as mayor. That is, +he had struck out boldly at sundry petty abuses practised by a +low and comparatively uninfluential class of exploiters of the +people. He had been so busy with these showy trifles that there +had been no time for the large abuses. True, he had publicly +warned the gas company about its poor gas, and the water company +about its unwholesome water for the low-lying tenement districts, +and the traction company about the fewness and filthiness of its +cars. The gas company had talked of putting in improved +machinery; the water company had invited estimates on a +filtration plant; the traction company had said a vague something +about new cars as soon as car manufacturers could make definite +promises as to delivery. But nothing had been done--as yet. +Obviously a corporation, a large investment of capital, must be +treated with consideration. It would not do for a conservative, +fair minded mayor to rush into demagogery. So, Davy was content +to point proudly to his record of having ``made the big +corporations awaken to a sense of their duty.'' An excellent +record, as good as a reform politician, with a larger career in +prospect, could be expected to make. People spoke well of Mayor +Hull and the three daily papers eulogized him. Davy no longer +had qualms of conscience. He read the eulogies, he listened to +the flatteries of the conservative leading citizens he met at the +Lincoln and at the University, and he felt that he was all that +he in young enthusiasm had set out to be. + +When he went to other cities and towns and to county fairs to +make addresses he was introduced as the man who had redeemed +Remsen City, as a shining example of the honest SANE man in +politics, as a man the bosses were afraid of, yet dared not try +to down. ``You can't fool the people.'' And were not the +people, notably those who didn't live in Remsen City and had only +read in their newspapers about the reform Republican mayor +--weren't they clamorous for Mayor Hull for governor! Thus, Davy +was high in his own esteem, was in that mood of profound +responsibility to righteousness and to the people wherein a man +can get the enthusiastic endorsement of his conscience for any +act he deems it expedient to commit in safeguarding and advancing +his career. His person had become valuable to his country. His +opponents were therefore anathema maranatha. + +As he and Jane walked side by side in the tender moonlight, Jane +said: + +``What's become of Selma Gordon?'' + +A painful pause; then Davy, in a tone that secretly amused Jane: +``Selma? I see her occasionally--at a distance. She still +writes for Victor Dorn's sheet, I believe. I never see it.'' + +Jane felt she could easily guess why. ``Yes--it is irritating to +read criticisms of oneself,'' said she sweetly. Davy's +self-complacence had been most trying to her nerves. + +Another long silence, then he said: ``About--Miss Gordon. I +suppose you were thinking of the things I confided to you last +year?'' + +``Yes, I was,'' confessed Jane. + +``That's all over,'' said Mayor and prospective Governor Hull. +``I found I was mistaken in her.'' + +``Didn't you tell me that she refused you?'' pressed Jane, most +unkindly. + +``We met again after that,'' said Davy--by way of proving that +even the most devoted apostle of civic righteousness is yet not +without his share of the common humanity, ``and from that time I +felt differently toward her. . . . I've never been able to +understand my folly. . . . I wonder if you could forgive me for +it?'' + +Davy was a good deal of a bore, she felt. At least, he seemed so +in this first renewing of old acquaintance. But he was a man of +purpose, a man who was doing much and would do more. And she +liked him, and had for him that feeling of sympathy and +comprehension which exists among people of the same region, +brought up in much the same way. Instead of cutting him off, she +temporized. Said she with a serenely careless laugh that might +have let a man more expert in the ways of women into the secret +of how little she cared about him: ``You mean forgive you for +dropping me so abruptly and running after her?'' + +``That's not exactly the way to put it,'' objected he. + +``Put it any way you like,'' said Jane. ``I forgive you. I +didn't care at the time, and I don't care now.'' + +Jane was looking entrancing in that delicate light. Davy was +noting--was feeling--this. Also, he was reflecting--in a +high-minded way--upon the many material, mental and spiritual +advantages of a marriage with her. Just the woman to be a +governor's wife-- a senator's wife--a president's wife. Said he: + +``Jane, my feeling for you has never changed.'' + +``Really?'' said Jane. ``Why, I thought you told me at one time +that you were in love with me?'' + +``And I always have been, dear--and am,'' said Davy, in his +deepest, tenderest tones. ``And now that I am winning a position +worthy of you----'' + +``I'll see,'' cut in Jane. ``Let's not talk about it tonight.'' +She felt that if he kept on she might yield to the temptation to +say something mocking, something she would regret if it drove him +away finally. + +He was content. The ice had been broken. The Selma Gordon +business had been disposed of. The way was clear for +straight-away love-making the next time they met. Meanwhile he +would think about her, would get steam up, would have his heart +blazing and his words and phrases all in readiness. + + +Every human being has his or her fundamental vanity that must be +kept alive, if life is to be or to seem to be worth living. In +man this vanity is usually some form of belief in his mental +ability, in woman some form of belief in her physical charm. +Fortunately-- or, rather, necessarily--not much is required to +keep this vanity alive--or to restore it after a shock, however +severe. Victor Dorn had been compelled to give Jane Hastings' +vanity no slight shock. But it recovered at once. Jane saw that +his failure to yield was due not to lack of potency in her +charms, but to extraordinary strength of purpose in his +character. Thus, not only was she able to save herself from any +sense of humiliation, but also she was without any feeling of +resentment against him. She liked him and admired him more than +ever. She saw his point of view; she admitted that he was +right--IF it were granted that a life such as he had mapped for +himself was better for him than the career he could have made +with her help. + +Her heart, however, was hastily, even rudely thrust to the +background when she discovered that her brother had been gambling +in wheat with practically her entire fortune. With an adroitness +that irritated her against herself, as she looked back, he had +continued to induce her to disregard their father's cautionings +and to ask him to take full charge of her affairs. He had not +lost her fortune, but he had almost lost it. But for an +accidental stroke, a week of weather destructive to crops all +over the country, she would have been reduced to an income of not +more than ten or fifteen thousand a year--twenty times the income +of the average American family of five, but for Miss Hastings +straitened subsistence and a miserable state of shornness of all +the radiance of life. And, pushing her inquiries a little +farther, she learned that her brother would still have been rich, +because he had taken care to settle a large sum on his wife--in +such a way that if she divorced him it would pass back to him. + +In the course of her arrangings to meet this situation and to +prevent its recurrence she saw much of Doctor Charlton. He gave +her excellent advice and found for her a man to take charge of +her affairs so far as it was wise for her to trust any one. The +man was a bank cashier, Robert Headley by name--one of those rare +beings who care nothing for riches for themselves and cannot +invest their own money wisely, but have a genius for fidelity and +wise counsel. + +``It's a pity he's married,'' said Charlton. ``If he weren't I'd +urge you to take him as a husband.'' + +Jane laughed. A plainer, duller man than Headley it would have +been hard to find, even among the respectabilities of Remsen +City. + +``Why do you laugh?'' said Charlton. ``What is there absurd in a +sensible marriage?'' + +``Would you marry a woman because she was a good housekeeper?'' + +``That would be one of the requirements,'' said Charlton. ``I've +sense enough to know that, no matter how much I liked a woman +before marriage, it couldn't last long if she were incompetent. +She'd irritate me every moment in the day. I'd lie awake of +nights despising her. And how she would hate me!'' + +``I can't imagine you a husband,'' laughed Jane. + +``That doesn't speak well for your imagination,' rejoined +Charlton. ``I have perfect health--which means that I have a +perfect disposition, for only people with deranged interiors are +sour and snappy and moody. And I am sympathetic and +understanding. I appreciate that women are rottenly brought up +and have everything to learn--everything that's worth while if +one is to live comfortably and growingly. So, I shouldn't expect +much at the outset beyond a desire to improve and a capacity to +improve. Yes, I've about all the virtues for a model husband--a +companionable, helpful mate for a woman who wants to be more of a +person every day she lives.'' + +``No, thanks,'' said Jane, mockingly. ``The advertisement reads +well, but I don't care to invest.'' + +``Oh, I looked you over long ago,'' said Charlton with a coolness +that both amused and exasperated her. ``You wouldn't do at all. +You are very attractive to look at and to talk with. Your money +would be useful to some plans I've got for some big sanatoriums +along the line of Schulze's up at Saint Christopher. But---'' +He shook his head, smiling at her through a cloud of cigarette +smoke. + +``Go on,'' urged Jane. ``What's wrong with me?'' + +``You've been miseducated too far and too deeply. You KNOW too +much that isn't so. You've got the upper class American woman +habit of thinking about yourself all the time. You are an +indifferent housekeeper, and you think you are good at it. You +don't know the practical side of life--cooking, sewing, house +furnishing, marketing. You're ambitious for a show career--the +sort Davy Hull--excuse me, Governor David Hull--is making so +noisily. There's just the man for you. You ought to marry. +Marry Hull.'' + +Jane was furiously angry. She did not dare show it; Charlton +would merely laugh and walk away, and perhaps refuse to be +friends with her. It exasperated her to the core, the narrow +limitations of the power of money. She could, through the power +of her money, do exactly as she pleased to and with everybody +except the only kind of people she cared about dominating; these +she was apparently the less potent with because of her money. +It seemed to put them on their mettle and on their guard. + +She swallowed her anger. ``Yes, I've got to get married,'' said +she. ``And I don't know what to do about it.'' + +``Hull,'' said Charlton. + +``Is that the best advice you can give?'' said she disdainfully. + +``He needs you, and you need him. You like him-- don't you?'' + +``Very much.'' + +``Then--the thing's done. Davy isn't the man to fail to seize an +opportunity so obviously to his advantage. Not that he hasn't a +heart. He has a big one--does all sorts of gracious, +patronizing, kind things--does no end of harm. But he'd no more +let his emotions rule his life than--than--Victor Dorn--or I, for +that matter.'' + +Jane colored; a pathetic sadness tinged the far-away expression +of her eyes. + +``No doubt he's half in love with you already. Most men are who +know you. A kindly smile and he'll be kneeling.'' + +``I don't want David Hull,'' cried Jane. ``Ever since I can +remember they've been at me to marry him. He bores me. He +doesn't make me respect him. He never could control me--or teach +me--or make me look up to him in any way. I don't want him, and +I won't have him.'' + +``I'm afraid you've got to do it,'' said Charlton. ``You act as +if you realized it and were struggling and screaming against +manifest destiny like a child against a determined mother.'' + +Jane's eyes had a look of terror. ``You are joking,'' said she. +``But it frightens me, just the same.'' + +``I am not joking,'' replied he. ``I can hear the wedding +bells--and so can you.'' + +``Don't!'' pleaded Jane. ``I've so much confidence in your +insight that I can't bear to hear you saying such things even to +tease me. . . . Why haven't you told me about these sanatoriums +you want?'' + +``Because I've been hoping I could devise some way of getting +them without the use of money. Did it ever occur to you that +almost nothing that's been of real and permanent value to the +world was built with money? The things that money has done have +always been badly done.'' + +``Let me help you,'' said Jane earnestly. ``Give me something to +do. Teach me how to do something. I am SO bored!--and so eager +to have an occupation. I simply can't lead the life of my class. + +``You want to be a lady patroness--a lady philanthropist,'' said +Charlton, not greatly impressed by her despair. ``That's only +another form of the life of your class--and a most offensive +form.'' + +``Your own terms--your own terms, absolutely,'' cried Jane in +desperation. + +``No--marry Hull and go into upper and middle class politics. +You'll be a lady senator or a lady ambassador or cabinet officer, +at least.'' + +``I will not marry David Hull--or anybody, just yet,'' cried +Jane. ``Why should I? I've still got ten years where there's a +chance of my being able to attract some man who--attracts me. +And after that I can buy as good a husband as any that offers +now. Doctor Charlton, I'm in desperate, deadly earnest. And I +ask you to help me.'' + +``My own terms?'' + +``I give you my word.'' + +``You'll have to give your money outright. No strings attached. +No chance to be a philanthropist. Also, you'll have to +work--have to educate yourself as I instruct you.'' + +``Yes--yes. Whatever you say.'' + +Charlton looked at her dubiously. ``I'm a fool to have anything +to do with this,'' he said. ``You aren't in any way a suitable +person--any more than I'm the sort of man you want to assist you +in your schemes. You don't realize what tests you're to be put +through.'' + +``I don't care,'' said Jane. + +``It's a chance to try my theory,'' mused he. ``You know, I +insist we are all absolutely the creatures of circumstance--that +character adapts itself to circumstance--that to change a man or +a town or a nation --or a world--you have only to change their +fundamental circumstances.'' + +``You'll try me?'' + +``I'll think about it,'' said Charlton. ``I'll talk with Victor +Dorn about it.'' + +``Whatever you do, don't talk to him,'' cried Jane, in terror. +``He has no faith in me--'' She checked herself, hastily +added--``in anybody outside his own class.'' + +``I never do anything serious without consulting Victor,'' said +Charlton firmly. ``He's got the best mind of any one I know, and +it is foolish to act without taking counsel of the best.'' + +``He'll advise against it,'' said Jane bitterly. + +``But I may not take his advice literally,'' said Charlton. +``I'm not in mental slavery to him. I often adapt his advice to +my needs instead of adopting it outright.'' + +And with that she had to be content. + +She passed a day and night of restlessness, and called him on the +telephone early the following morning. As she heard his voice +she said: + +``Did you see Victor Dorn last night?'' + +``Where are you?'' asked Charlton. + +``In my room,'' was her impatient answer. + +``In bed?'' + +``I haven't gotten up yet,'' said she. ``What IS the matter?'' + +``Had your breakfast?'' + +``No. I've rung for it. It'll be here in a few minutes.'' + +``I thought so,'' said Charlton. + +``This is very mysterious--or very absurd,'' said Jane. + +``Please ring off and call your kitchen and tell them to put your +breakfast on the dining-room table for you in three-quarters of +an hour. Then get up, take your bath and your exercises--dress +yourself for the day--and go down and eat your breakfast. How +can you hope to amount to anything unless you live by a rational +system? And how can you have a rational system unless you begin +the day right?'' + +``DID you see Victor Dorn?'' said Jane--furious at his +impertinence but restraining herself. + +``And after you have breakfasted,'' continued Charlton, ``call me +up again, and I'll answer your questions.'' + +With that he hung up his receiver. Jane threw herself angrily +back against her pillow. She would lie there for an hour, then +call him again. But--if he should ask her whether she had obeyed +his orders? True, she might lie to him; but wouldn't that be too +petty? She debated with herself for a few minutes, then obeyed +him to the letter. As she was coming through the front hall +after breakfast, he appeared in the doorway. + +``You didn't trust me!'' she cried reproachfully. + +``Oh, yes,'' replied he. ``But I preferred to talk with you face +to face.'' + +``DID you see Mr. Dorn?'' + +Charlton nodded. ``He refused to advise me. He said he had a +personal prejudice in your favor that would make his advice +worthless.'' + +Jane glowed--but not quite so thrillingly as she would have +glowed in the same circumstances a year before. + +``Besides, he's in no state of mind to advise anybody about +anything just now,'' said Charlton. + +Jane glanced sharply at him. ``What do you mean?'' she said. + +``It's not my secret,'' replied Charlton. + +``You mean he has fallen in love?'' + +``That's shrewd,'' said Charlton. ``But women always assume a +love affair.'' + +``With whom?'' persisted Jane. + +``Oh, a very nice girl. No matter. I'm not here to talk about +anybody's affairs but yours--and mine.'' + +``Answer just one question,'' said Jane, impulsively. ``Did he +tell you anything about--me?'' + +Charlton stared--then whistled. ``Are YOU in love with him, +too?'' he cried. + +Jane flushed--hesitated--then met his glance frankly. ``I WAS,'' +said she. + +``WAS?'' + +``I mean that I'm over it,'' said she. ``What have you decided +to do about me?'' + +Charlton did not answer immediately. He eyed her narrowly--an +examination which she withstood well. Then he glanced away and +seemed to be reflecting. Finally he came back to her question. +Said he: + +``To give you a trial. To find out whether you'll do.'' + +She drew a long sigh of relief. + +``Didn't you guess?'' he went on, smilingly, nodding his round, +prize-fighter head at her. ``Those suggestions about bed and +breakfast--they were by way of a beginning.'' + +``You must give me a lot to do,'' urged she. ``I mustn't have a +minute of idle time.'' + +He laughed. ``Trust me,'' he said. + + +While Jane was rescuing her property from her brother and was +safeguarding it against future attempts by him, or by any of that +numerous company whose eyes are ever roving in search of the most +inviting of prey, the lone women with baggage--while Jane was +thus occupied, David Hull was, if possible, even busier and more +absorbed. He was being elected governor. His State was being +got ready to say to the mayor of Remsen City, ``Well done, good +and faithful servant. Thou hast been faithful over a few things; +I will make thee ruler over many.'' + +The nomination was not obtained for him without difficulty. The +Republican party--like the Democratic --had just been brought +back under ``safe and sane and conservative'' leadership after a +prolonged debauch under the influence of that once famous and +revered reformer, Aaron Whitman, who had not sobered up or +released the party for its sobering until his wife's extravagant +entertaining at Washington had forced him to accept large +``retainers'' from the plutocracy. The machine leaders had in +the beginning forwarded the ambitions of Whitman under the +impression that his talk of a ``square deal'' was ``just the +usual dope'' and that Aaron was a ``level-headed fellow at +bottom.'' It had developed--after they had let Aaron become a +popular idol, not to be trifled with--it had developed that he +was almost sincere--as sincere as can be expected of an +ambitious, pushing fellow. Now came David Hull, looking +suspiciously like Whitman at his worst-and a more hopeless case, +because he had money a plenty, while Whitman was luckily poor and +blessed with an extravagant wife. True, Hull had the backing of +Dick Kelly-- and Kelly was not the man ``to hand the boys a +lemon.'' Still Hull looked like a ``holy boy,'' talked like one, +had the popular reputation of having acted like one as mayor--and +the ``reform game'' was certainly one to attract a man who could +afford it and was in politics for position only. Perhaps Dick +wanted to be rid of Hull for the rest of his term, and was +``kicking him upstairs.'' It would be a shabby trick upon his +fellow leaders, but justifiable if there should be some big +``job'' at Remsen City that could be ``pulled off'' only if Hull +were out of the way. + +The leaders were cold until Dick got his masters in the Remsen +City branch of the plutocracy to pass the word to the +plutocracy's general agents at Indianapolis-- a certain +well-known firm of political bankers. Until that certification +came the leaders, having no candidate who stood a chance of +winning, were ready to make a losing campaign and throw the +election to the Democrats--not a serious misfortune at a time +when the machines of the two parties had become simply friendly +rival agents for the same rich master. + +There was a sharp fight in the convention. The anti-machine +element, repudiating Whitman under the leadership of a shrewd and +honest young man named Joe Bannister, had attacked Hull in the +most shocking way. Bannister had been reading Victor Dorn's New +Day and had got a notion of David Hull as man and mayor different +from the one made current by the newspapers. He made a speech on +the floor of the convention which almost caused a riot and nearly +cost Davy the nomination. That catastrophe was averted by +adjournment. Davy gave Dick Kelly's second lieutenant, Osterman, +ten thousand in cash, of which Osterman said there was pressing +need ``for perfectly legitimate purposes, I assure you, Mr. +Mayor.'' Next day the Bannister faction lost forty and odd +sturdy yeomen from districts where the crops had been painfully +short, and Davy was nominated. + +In due time the election was held, and Mayor Hull became Governor +Hull by a satisfactory majority for so evenly divided a State. +He had spent--in contributions to the machine campaign +fund--upwards of one hundred thousand dollars. But that seemed a +trifling sacrifice to make for reform principles and for keeping +the voice of the people the voice of God. He would have been +elected if he had not spent a cent, for the Democratic machine, +bent on reorganizing back to a sound basis with all real +reformers or reformers tainted with sincerity eliminated, had +nominated a straight machine man--and even the politicians know +that the people who decide elections will not elect a machine man +if they have a chance to vote for any one else. It saddened +David Hull, in the midst of victory, that his own town and county +went against him, preferring the Democrat, whom it did not know, +as he lived at the other end of the State. Locally the offices +at stake were all captured by the ``Dorn crowd.'' At last the +Workingmen's League had a judge; at last it could have a day in +court. There would not be a repetition of the great frauds of +the Hull-Harbinger campaign. + +By the time David had sufficient leisure to reopen the heart +department of his ambition, Jane was deep in the effort to show +Doctor Charlton how much intelligence and character she had. She +was serving an apprenticeship as trained nurse in the Children's +Hospital, where he was chief of the staff, and was taking several +extra courses with his young assistants. It was nearly two weeks +after David's first attempt to see her when her engagements and +his at last permitted this meeting. Said he: + +``What's this new freak?'' + +``I can't tell you yet,'' replied she. ``I'm not sure, myself.'' + +``I don't see how you can endure that fellow Charlton. They say +he's as big a crank in medicine as he is in politics.'' + +``It's all of a piece,'' said Jane, tranquilly. ``He says he +gets his political views from his medicine and his medical ideas +from his politics.'' + +``Don't you think he's a frightful bounder?'' + +``Frightful,'' said Jane. + +``Fresh, impudent--conceited. And he looks like a prize +fighter.'' + +``At some angles--yes,'' conceded Jane. ``At others, he's almost +handsome.'' + +``The other day, when I called at the hospital and they wouldn't +take my name in to you--'' David broke off to vent his +indignation--``Did you ever hear of such impertinence!'' + +``And you the governor-elect,'' laughed Jane. ``Shall I tell you +what Doctor Charlton said? He said that a governor was simply a +public servant, and anything but a public representative--usually +a public disgrace. He said that a servant's business was +attending to his own job and not hanging round preventing his +fellow servants from attending to their jobs.'' + +``I knew he had low and vulgar views of public affairs,'' said +David. ``What I started to say was that I saw him talking to you +that day, across the court, and you seemed to be enjoying his +conversation.'' + + +``ENJOYING it? I love it,'' cried Jane. ``He makes me laugh, he +makes me cold with rage, he gives me a different sensation every +time I see him.'' + +``You LIKE--him?'' + +``Immensely. And I've never been so interested or so happy in my +life.'' She looked steadily at him. ``Nothing could induce me +to give it up. I've put everything else out of my mind.'' + +Since the dismal end of his adventure with Selma Gordon, David +had become extremely wary in his dealings with the female sex. +He never again would invite a refusal; he never again would put +himself in a position where a woman might feel free to tell him +her private opinion of him. He reflected upon Jane's words. +They could have but the one meaning. Not so calmly as he would +have liked, but without any embarrassing constraint, he said: + +``I'm glad you've found what suits you, at last. It isn't +exactly the line I'd have thought a girl such as you would +choose. You're sure you are not making a mistake?'' + +``Quite,'' said Jane. + +``I should think you'd prefer marriage--and a home --and a social +circle--and all that,'' ventured David. + +``I'll probably not marry.'' + +``No. You'd hardly take a doctor.'' + +``The only one I'd want I can't get,'' said Jane. + +She wished to shock David, and she saw with pleasure that she had +succeeded. Indeed so shocked was he that in a few minutes he +took leave. And as he passed from her sight he passed from her +mind. + + +Victor Dorn described Davy Hull's inaugural address as ``an +uninteresting sample of the standard reform brand of artificial +milk for political infants.'' The press, however, was +enthusiastic, and substantial people everywhere spoke of it as +having the ``right ring,'' as being the utterance of a ``safe, +clean man whom the politicians can't frighten or fool.'' In this +famous speech David urged everybody who was doing right to keep +on doing so, warned everybody who was doing wrong that they would +better look out for themselves, praised those who were trying to +better conditions in the right way, condemned those who were +trying to do so in the wrong way. It was all most eloquent, most +earnest. Some few people were disappointed that he had not +explained exactly what and whom he meant by right and by wrong; +but these carping murmurs were drowned in the general acclaim. A +man whose fists clenched and whose eyes flashed as did David +Hull's must ``mean business''--and if no results came of these +words, it wouldn't be his fault, but the machinations of wicked +plutocrats and their political agents. + +``Isn't it disgusting!'' exclaimed Selma, reading an impassioned +paragraph aloud to Victor Dorn. ``It almost makes me despair +when I see how people--our sort of people, too--are taken in by +such guff. And they stand with their empty picked pockets and +cheer this man, who's nothing but a stool pigeon for +pickpockets.'' + +``It's something gained,'' observed Victor tranquilly, ``when +politicians have to denounce the plutocracy in order to get +audiences and offices. The people are beginning to know what's +wrong. They read into our friend Hull's generalities what they +think he ought to mean--what they believe he does mean. The next +step is--he'll have to do something or they'll find him out.'' + +``He do anything?'' Selma laughed derisively. ``He hasn't the +courage--or the honesty.'' + +``Well--`patience and shuffle the cards,' as Sancho Panza says. +We're winning Remsen City. And our friends are winning a little +ground here, and a little there and a little yonder--and +soon--only too soon-- this crumbling false politics will collapse +and disappear. Too soon, I fear. Before the new politics of a +work-compelling world for the working class only is ready to be +installed.'' + +Selma had been only half attending. She now said abruptly, with +a fluttering movement that suggested wind blowing strongly across +open prairies under a bright sky: + +``I've decided to go away.'' + +``Yes, you must take a vacation,'' said Victor. ``I've been +telling you that for several years. And you must go away to the +sea or the mountains where you'll not be harassed by the fate of +the human race that you so take to heart.'' + +``I didn't mean a vacation,'' said Selma. ``I meant to +Chicago--to work there.'' + +``You've had a good offer?'' said Victor. ``I knew it would +come. You've got to take it. You need the wider experience--the +chance to have a paper of your own--or a work of your own of some +kind. It's been selfishness, my keeping you all this time.'' + +Selma had turned away. With her face hidden from him she said, +``Yes, I must go.'' + +``When?'' said Victor. + +``As soon as you can arrange for some one else.'' + +``All right. I'll look round. I've no hope of finding any one +to take your place, but I can get some one who will do.'' + +``You can train any one,'' said Selma. ``Just as you trained +me.'' + +``I'll see what's to be done,'' was all he said. + +A week passed--two weeks. She waited; he did not bring up the +subject. But she knew he was thinking of it; for there had been +a change in his manner toward her--a constraint, a +self-consciousness theretofore utterly foreign to him in his +relations with any one. Selma was wretched, and began to show it +first in her appearance, then in her work. At last she burst +out: + +``Give that article back to me,'' she cried. ``It's rotten. I +can't write any more. Why don't you tell me so frankly? Why +don't you send me away?'' + +``You're doing better work than I am,'' said he. ``You're eager +to be off--aren't you? Will you stay a few days longer? I must +get away to the country-- alone--to get a fresh grip on myself. +I'll come back as soon as I can, and you'll be free. There'll be +no chance for vacations after you're gone.'' + +``Very well,'' said she. She felt that he would think this +curtness ungracious, but more she could not say. + +He was gone four days. When he reappeared at the office he was +bronzed, but under the bronze showed fatigue--in a man of his +youth and strength sure sign of much worry and loss of sleep. He +greeted her almost awkwardly, his eyes avoiding hers, and sat +down to opening his accumulated mail. Although she was furtively +observing him she started when he abruptly said: + +``You know you are free to go--at any time.'' + +``I'll wait until you catch up with your work,'' she suggested. + +``No--never mind. I'll get along. I've kept you out of all +reason. . . . The sooner you go the better. I've got to get +used to it, and--I hate suspense.'' + +``Then I'll go in the morning,'' said Selma. ``I've no +arrangements to make--except a little packing that'll take less +than an hour. Will you say good-by for me to any one who asks? +I hate fusses, and I'll be back here from time to time.'' + +He looked at her curiously, started to speak, changed his mind +and resumed reading the letter in his hand. She turned to her +work, sat pretending to write. In fact she was simply +scribbling. Her eyes were burning and she was fighting against +the sobs that came surging. He rose and began to walk up and +down the room. She hastily crumpled and flung away the sheet on +which she had be scrawling; he might happen to glance at her desk +and see. She bent closer to the paper and began to +write--anything that came into her head. Presently the sound of +his step ceased. An uncontrollable impulse to fly seized her. +She would get up--would not put on her hat--would act as if she +were simply going to the street door for a moment. And she would +not return--would escape the danger of a silly breakdown. She +summoned all her courage, suddenly rose and moved swiftly toward +the door. At the threshold she had to pause; she could not +control her heart from a last look at him. + +He was seated at his table, was staring at its litter of letters, +papers and manuscripts with an expression so sad that it +completely transformed him. She forgot herself. She said +softly: + +``Victor!'' + +He did not hear. + +``Victor,'' she repeated a little more loudly. + +He roused himself, glanced at her with an attempt at his usual +friendly smile of the eyes. + +``Is there something wrong that you haven't told me about?'' she +asked. + +``It'll pass,'' said he. ``I'll get used to it.'' With an +attempt at the manner of the humorous philosopher, ``Man is the +most adaptable of all the animals. That's why he has distanced +all his relations. I didn't realize how much our association +meant to me until you set me to thinking about it by telling me +you were going. I had been taking you for granted--a habit we +easily fall into with those who simply work with and for us and +don't insist upon themselves.'' + +She was leaning against the frame of the open door into the hall, +her hands behind her back. She was gazing out of the window +across the room. + +``You,'' he went on, ``are as I'd like to be--as I imagined I +was. Your sense of duty to the cause orders you elsewhere, and +you go--like a good soldier, with never a backward glance.'' + +She shook her head, but did not speak. + +``With never a backward glance,'' he repeated. ``While I--'' He +shut his lips together firmly and settled himself with fierce +resolution to his work. ``I beg your pardon,'' he said. ``This +is--cowardly. As I said before, I shall get myself in hand +again, and go on.'' + +She did not move. The breeze of the unseasonably warm and +brilliant day fluttered her thick, loosely gathered hair about +her brow. Her strange, barbaric little face suggested that the +wind was blowing across it a throng of emotions like the clouds +of a driven storm. + +A long silence. He suddenly flung out his arms in a despairing +gesture and let them fall to the table. At the crash she +startled, gazed wildly about. + +``Selma!'' he cried. ``I must say it. I love you.'' + +A profound silence fell. After a while she went softly across +the room and sat down at her desk. + +``I think I've loved you from the first months of your coming +here to work--to the old office, I mean. But we were always +together--every day--all day long-- working together--I thinking +and doing nothing without your sharing in it. So, I never +realized. Don't misunderstand. I'm not trying to keep you here. + +It's simply that I've got the habit of telling you everything-- +of holding back nothing from you.'' + +``I was going,'' she said, ``because I loved you.'' + +He looked at her in amazement. + +``That day you told me you had decided to get married-- and asked +my advice about the girls among our friends--that was the day I +began to feel I'd have to go. It's been getting worse ever +since.'' + +Once more silence, both looking uneasily about, their glances +avoiding each other. The door of the printing room opened, and +Holman, the printer, came in, his case in his grimy hand. Said +he: + +``Where's the rest of that street car article?'' + +``I beg your pardon,'' said Selma, starting up and taking some +manuscript from her desk and handing it to him. + +``Louis,'' said Victor, as Holmes was retreating, ``Selma and I +are going to be married.'' + +Louis paused, but did not look round. ``That ain't what'd be +called news,'' said he. ``I've known it for more than three +years.'' + +He moved on toward his room. ``I'll be ready for that leading +article in half an hour. So, you'd better get busy.'' + +He went out, closing the door behind him. Selma and Victor +looked at each other and burst out laughing. Then--still +laughing--they took hold of hands like two children. And the +next thing they knew they were tight in each other's arms, and +Selma was sobbing wildly. + + + +X + + +When Jane had finished her apprenticeship, Doctor Charlton asked +her to marry him. Said Jane: + +``I never knew you to be commonplace before. I've felt this +coming for some time, but I expected it would be in the form of +an offer to marry me.'' + +She promptly accepted him--and she has not, and will not regret +it. So far as a single case can prove a theory, Jane's case has +proved Charlton's theory that environment determines character. +His alternations of tenderness and brusqueness, of devotion to +her and devotion to his work, his constant offering of something +new and his unremitting insistence upon something new from her +each day make it impossible for her to develop the slightest +tendency toward that sleeping sickness wherewith the germ of +conventionality inflicts any mind it seizes upon. + +David Hull, now temporarily in eclipse through over caution in +radical utterance, is gathering himself for a fresh spurt that +will doubtless place him at the front in politics again. He has +never married. The belief in Remsen City is that he is a victim +of disappointed love for Jane Hastings. But the truth is that he +is unable to take his mind off himself long enough to be come +sufficiently interested in another human being. There is no +especial reason why he has thus far escaped the many snares that +have been set for him because of his wealth and position. Who +can account for the vagaries of chance? + +The Workingmen's League now controls the government of Remsen +City. It gives an honest and efficient administration, and keeps +the public service corporations as respectful of the people as +the laws will permit. But, as Victor Dorn always warned the +people, little can be done until the State government is +conquered--and even then there will be the national government to +see that all the wrongs of vested rights are respected and that +the people shall have little to say, in the management of their +own affairs. As all sensible people know, any corrupt +politician, or any greedy plutocrat, or any agent of either is a +safer and better administrator of the people's affairs than the +people themselves. + +The New Day is a daily with a circulation for its weekly edition +that is national. And Victor and Selma are still its editors, +though they have two little boys to bring up. + +Jane and Selma see a great deal of each other, and are friendly, +and try hard to like each other. But they are not friends. + +Dick Kelly's oldest son, graduated from Harvard, is the leader of +the Remsen City fashionable set. Joe House's only son is a +professional gambler and sets the pace among the sports. + + + + +End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Conflict, by David Phillips + diff --git a/old/tconf10.zip b/old/tconf10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1ca7554 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/tconf10.zip |