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+The Project Gutenberg eBook of The unhallowed harvest, by Homer
+Greene
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
+most other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you
+will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before
+using this eBook.
+
+Title: The unhallowed harvest
+
+Author: Homer Greene
+
+Release Date: June 12, 2023 [eBook #70967]
+
+Language: English
+
+Credits: Donald Cummings and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
+         https://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced from images made
+         available by the HathiTrust Digital Library.)
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE UNHALLOWED HARVEST ***
+
+
+
+
+
+                                  The
+                              Unhallowed
+                                Harvest
+
+
+
+
+                                  The
+                              Unhallowed
+                                Harvest
+
+                                  By
+                             HOMER GREENE
+
+                  _Author of “The Lincoln Conscript,”
+                        “Pickett’s Gap,” etc._
+
+
+                            [Illustration]
+
+
+                             PHILADELPHIA
+                      GEORGE W. JACOBS & COMPANY
+                              PUBLISHERS
+
+
+
+
+                          Copyright, 1917, by
+                      GEORGE W. JACOBS & COMPANY
+                        _Published March, 1917_
+
+
+                         _All rights reserved_
+                          Printed in U. S. A.
+
+
+
+
+                  Contents
+
+
+     I. AN ENFORCED VERDICT                7
+    II. AN ACT OF CHARITY                 25
+   III. IN THE PRESENCE OF DEATH          41
+    IV. THE NEW MOON                      58
+     V. AN UNUSUAL SERMON                 72
+    VI. THE VESTRY OBJECTS                86
+   VII. THE RECTOR’S WIFE                 99
+  VIII. A SIGNIFICANT DINNER PARTY       119
+    IX. THE SPIRIT OF REVENGE            142
+     X. A MINISTERIAL CRISIS             162
+    XI. A ROMANTIC EPISODE               177
+   XII. THE FIRST CALAMITY               198
+  XIII. A CASE OF MISTAKEN IDENTITY      220
+   XIV. THE BISHOP’S DILEMMA             230
+    XV. LOVE VERSUS LAW                  254
+   XVI. “THE DARKNESS DEEPENS”           276
+  XVII. A HOPELESS QUEST                 295
+ XVIII. A CRUEL SURPRISE                 314
+   XIX. THE STORM BREAKS                 330
+    XX. “BLACK AS THE PIT”               346
+   XXI. THE FINAL TRAGEDY                366
+  XXII. AN EPISCOPAL BENEDICTION         374
+ XXIII. REHABILITATION                   383
+
+
+
+
+                        The Unhallowed Harvest
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER I
+
+                          AN ENFORCED VERDICT
+
+
+The Reverend Robert Bruce Farrar entered the Common Pleas court-room
+and made his way down the center aisle to the railing that enclosed the
+space allotted to members of the bar. Had he been an ordinary citizen
+he would have stopped there. But he was not an ordinary citizen.
+Therefore he passed on into the railed enclosure to find his seat. He
+was rector of Christ Church; the oldest, wealthiest and most prominent
+religious organization in the city. Yet that fact alone would not
+have given him the distinction he enjoyed in this community. He was
+also an eloquent preacher, a profound scholar, a man of attractive
+and vigorous personality. Apparently he was not lacking in any of the
+qualities that make for success in the administration of the affairs
+of a large city parish. He had been rector of Christ Church for two
+years, and his worth and ability had been, during that time, abundantly
+proven. Moreover, by reason of his genial and sympathetic nature, he
+had endeared himself to the people of the parish, especially to the
+more humble members of his flock. He had, as the saving is, “a passion
+for humanity.” To those who toiled, who were in trouble or affliction,
+his heart went out in unaffected sympathy. He gave of his best to
+encourage, comfort and relieve them. Indeed, the only criticism made
+concerning him――and that was a suggestion rather than a criticism――was
+that possibly he neglected the souls of the rich to care for the bodies
+of the poor. He was deeply interested in problems of social ethics
+and economy, in fact in all problems having to do with the general
+welfare. He was a student of human character in all of its phases and
+manifestations. This it was, doubtless, that led him into becoming a
+frequenter of the courts. It was for this reason that the trial of
+causes had for him a strong and unfailing attraction. He was fond of
+looking on at the visible working of the machinery of the law. For
+there are few public places where human motives, as disclosed by human
+conduct, are brought more frequently and startlingly to the surface
+than in the court-room. It was a place, therefore, where the reverend
+gentleman was not only a frequent, but also a welcome visitor. He had
+a standing invitation to enter the bar enclosure, and to occupy a
+chair among his friends the lawyers. There had been occasions, indeed,
+occasions of great public interest, when the presiding judge, who
+chanced to be his senior warden, had had his rector up to sit beside
+him on the bench. But the case on trial this day was not an unusual
+one. It had attracted no particular attention, either among lawyers or
+laymen. Yet the rector of Christ Church was deeply interested in it. He
+had attended, so far as he had been able to do so, the sessions of the
+court in which it was being heard. It was what is known among lawyers
+as a negligence case. A workman, employed by a large manufacturing
+concern, had been seriously and permanently injured while engaged in
+the performance of the duties of his employment. An elevator on which
+he was riding, while making his way from one part of the factory to
+another, had suddenly gone wrong, and had plunged down through five
+stories, to become a heap of wreckage at the bottom of the shaft. And
+out from among the mass of splintered wood and broken and twisted
+iron and steel, he had been drawn, scarcely less broken and twisted
+and crushed than the inanimate things among which he had lain. An
+action had been brought, in his name, against the employing company, to
+compel it to compensate him for his injuries. This was the second day
+of the trial. It was late in the afternoon, and the case was drawing
+to a close. When the rector of Christ Church entered the court-room,
+Philip Westgate, for the defense, was making his closing argument to
+the jury. With relentless logic he was tearing down the structure which
+the experienced and skillful attorney for the plaintiff had built
+up. Although one of the younger members of a brilliant bar, it was
+freely predicted that the day was not far distant when he would be its
+leader. This thought lay distinctly in the mind of Richard Malleson,
+president of the defendant company, as he sat at the counsel’s table,
+and followed, with keen interest and satisfaction, the course of the
+argument.
+
+He was not so witless as to believe that the jury would find in
+favor of his company, in view of the strong human appeal that had
+been made to them, and still would be made to them, on behalf of the
+plaintiff; yet his countenance expressed no anxiety, for his lawyer
+had assured him that, regardless of any adverse verdict, the case fell
+within a rule of law that would prevent a recovery. So, fair type
+of the prosperous business man, portly, well-dressed, shrewd-eyed,
+square-jawed, he sat contentedly and listened while Westgate whittled
+away his opponent’s case.
+
+The plaintiff also was in court, sitting near by. But whether or not he
+understood what the learned counsel for the defense was saying, whether
+or not he heard his voice at all, no one, looking into his face, would
+have been able to discover. He sat there in a wheel-chair, a plaid robe
+covering his palsied and misshapen legs, his chin resting heavily on
+the broad scarf that covered his breast, his dull, gray face showing
+neither anxiety nor interest as Westgate made havoc of the evidence on
+which his case was built. To all outward appearance, though his whole
+economic future was at stake, he neither knew nor cared what was going
+on about him. For two days the rector of Christ Church had watched him
+as he sat there, listless, motionless, looking neither to the right nor
+left, apparently as unconcerned as though it were a stranger’s fate
+with which learned counsel were playing battledore and shuttlecock
+across the traverse jury box.
+
+But if the plaintiff was indifferent, his wife, who sat by him, was
+not. She at least was alive and alert. Nothing escaped her observation
+and consideration; no point presented by counsel, no ruling made by
+the court, no statement given by witnesses, no expression on the
+faces of jurors, as evidence and argument fell upon their ears and
+sank into their presumably plastic minds. She was, apparently, still
+in her early thirties. She was neatly and cheaply clad, as became a
+workingman’s wife. Her figure was well-proportioned and supple, and
+her oval face, lighted with expressive and intelligent dark eyes,
+was strikingly handsome. She was following Westgate’s argument with
+intense but scornful interest. That she appreciated its strength and
+its brilliance was apparent; but it was also apparent that she was not
+in the least dismayed. To the clergyman, student of human character
+and emotions, her countenance presented a greater attraction than the
+attraction offered by eloquent counsel. He looked at her, wondered at
+her, sympathized with her.
+
+Nor was the rector the only person in the room whose attention had
+been drawn to the woman’s face rather than to the eloquence of the
+speaking lawyer. At the clergyman’s side sat Barry Malleson, son of
+the president of the defendant company. He, also, had been in constant
+attendance at the trial. Not that his presence was necessary there;
+but, holding a nominally important, if not vitally necessary, position
+with the defendant company, he felt, as he expressed it, that he
+should be present to hearten up counsel in the case, and to give moral
+encouragement and protection to his father on whom a heavy verdict
+might fall with peculiar severity. With one hand ungloved, toying with
+his cane, he had sat and listened, with apparently deep interest, to
+Westgate’s speech. But whether the lawyer’s eloquence or the face of
+the plaintiff’s wife was the greater attraction, it would have been
+difficult to discover. For, while his ears appeared to be attuned to
+the one, his eyes were certainly fixed upon the other, and his gaze was
+one of distinct admiration.
+
+When Westgate concluded his address and took his seat, Barry turned to
+the rector and whispered:
+
+“Great speech, that of Phil’s, wasn’t it?”
+
+“Yes,” replied the rector. “From the standpoint of clear logic it was
+faultless.”
+
+“Too bad he couldn’t have had twelve men with brains and education to
+take it in. Trying a case before an ordinary jury is more or less of
+a farce. Really, you know, the law ought to be so changed that only
+men of unusual intelligence, men with property interests of their own,
+could sit on a jury.”
+
+The rector smiled. He was well aware of Barry’s undemocratic tendencies,
+and he knew just as well that to argue the point with him would be quite
+futile. Nevertheless, he said:
+
+“Oh, I don’t know! It seems to me that heart and conscience should
+count for something in the jury box.”
+
+“Ah,” replied Barry, “there’s your mistake. Cases should be decided
+according to law and logic, not according to sentiment. Take this
+case, now. Here’s a devilish――I beg your pardon!――an extraordinarily
+handsome woman, of the same general social class as most of the jurors.
+Plaintiff’s wife, you know. She goes to the stand and tells a moving
+tale of hardship and suffering. Sits there and turns eloquent eyes
+from counsel to witness and from witness to jury. Beauty in distress!
+Stalwart manhood in ruins! How are brains and logic going to win
+out against such a combination, before a jury made up of clerks and
+workingmen?”
+
+“So far as my observation has gone,” replied the rector, “I’m inclined
+to think the ordinary jury deals out pretty even-handed justice.”
+
+“Not when there’s a handsome woman in the case. Look at her now! By
+Jupiter! she’s a beauty!”
+
+Barry’s enthusiasm was not unfounded, the plaintiff’s wife was in
+animated conversation with her lawyer during the brief interval
+preceding his address. Evidently she was pointing out to him some
+mistake in Westgate’s declarations, or fallacy in his logic. The
+jurors, the lawyers, the spectators in the court-room, were watching
+her, no less than were Barry Malleson and the Reverend Mr. Farrar. She
+was worth watching.
+
+“Crude and uncultured, of course,” added Barry. “But, take such a face
+and figure as that, plus clothes and social training――she is already
+reputed to have brains,――and you would have a social queen. Gad!”
+
+He turned his eyes away, as if to rest them for a moment on some less
+fascinating object. The clergyman did not seem to consider that his
+companion’s remarks called for any reply from him. People who knew
+Barry as well as Mr. Farrar did seldom took him very seriously.
+
+The attorney for the plaintiff rose to make the concluding address to
+the jury. He had not the logical grasp of the case that his opponent
+had displayed, but he was more plausibly eloquent. He appealed more
+to the sympathies of the jurors than to their reason. He grew fierce
+in his denunciation of the greed and heartlessness of corporations in
+general, and of this corporation in particular. He became dramatic
+in his vivid description of the accident, and tearfully pathetic in
+depicting the future that lay before this man with the crushed body
+and the clouded mind. He called upon the jurors, as men of intelligence
+and conscience, to look to it that domineering wealth should not escape
+its just obligations to one whom it had carelessly crippled and cast
+aside; on whose home rested to-day the dark shadows of unspeakable pain
+and distressing poverty.
+
+At the conclusion of his address many men in the court-room, including
+some of the jurors, wiped furtive tears from their eyes, and all of the
+women were openly weeping; all save one, the wife of the plaintiff. She
+did not weep. Her glowing dark eyes were tearless and triumphant. She
+looked into the sympathetic faces of the jurors and read their verdict
+there before they, themselves, had considered it. She knew that her
+long fight for justice on behalf of her crippled husband and herself
+was approaching its victorious end. Why should she weep?
+
+Then Judge Bosworth began his charge to the jury. He gave a brief
+history of the case. He dwelt upon some of its more important phases
+as revealed by the evidence. He laid down the general rules of law
+governing this class of cases. He passed upon the requests of counsel
+for instruction to the jury. He said finally:
+
+“Counsel for the defendant company has asked us to charge you that
+‘under all the evidence in the case the verdict of the jury must be for
+the defendant.’ This is correct, and we so charge you; and, in doing
+so, we say that, except in the case of a common carrier, the uniform
+rule is that when recovery is sought on the ground of negligence of the
+defendant, the burden of proof is on the plaintiff, and in an action
+against an employer some specific act of negligence must be shown.
+No defect of any kind was shown in the elevator, nor was there any
+evidence which would justify a finding that it was unsafe for employees
+to use. Its falling was not shown to have been due to the breach of any
+duty owed by the employer to his employees. With the friction brake
+on it the engineer could have controlled it, and the only rational
+conclusion is that, instead of doing so, he carelessly let it drop with
+resultant consequences to this plaintiff which are not to be visited on
+the employer. This is one of those regrettable industrial accidents for
+which, in the present state of our laws, there appears to be no remedy
+in the way of compensation for injuries received.
+
+“While the plaintiff is not charged with any contributory negligence,
+and while he has our undoubted sympathy, we cannot permit him to
+recover against a party that clearly has not been at fault. You
+will, therefore, in the case of John Bradley against the Malleson
+Manufacturing Company, render a verdict in favor of the defendant. It
+will not be necessary for you to leave the box. Mr. Gaylord,” to the
+prothonotary of the court, “you will please take the verdict of the
+jury.”
+
+But before the prothonotary could get to his feet, Juror No. 7, sitting
+first in the front row, arose and addressed the court.
+
+“Do I understand your Honor to say,” he inquired, “that the jury has no
+right to decide whether or not Mr. Bradley is entitled to damages?”
+
+“No right whatever,” replied the judge. “In this case the law governs
+that question, and the law is exclusively for the court.”
+
+“But,” persisted the juror, “it seems to me that the jury ought to
+decide, as a matter of fact, whether this company is responsible for
+Mr. Bradley’s injuries.”
+
+The judge responded somewhat tartly:
+
+“We have already explained to you that, in our opinion, the plaintiff
+has not made out a prima facie case. If we are in error he has his
+remedy by appeal.” And he gathered up the papers lying in front of him
+as though he had made an end of the matter.
+
+But Juror No. 7 was not yet satisfied.
+
+“It takes time and costs money to appeal,” he said. “If we could give
+the plaintiff a reasonable verdict now it would probably settle the
+case for good.”
+
+If Judge Bosworth was impatient before, he was plainly vexed now, and
+he replied with some warmth:
+
+“We cannot argue the matter with you nor permit you to argue it with
+us. We have considered the case carefully, and have directed a verdict
+for the defendant. We will not accept any other verdict. Our decision
+must stand until it is reversed by a higher court.”
+
+“I meant no disrespect to your Honor,” said Juror No. 7, resuming his
+seat, “and I will of course obey the direction of the court; but, in my
+opinion, great injustice is being done.”
+
+Some of the jurors nodded as if in affirmance of that opinion. All
+of them sat, with flushed faces, amazed at the temerity of their
+fellow-juror, wondering what the court would do or say next. The
+court-room was so still that the dropping of the proverbial pin could
+have been heard. But Judge Bosworth did not deign to reply. He turned
+again, sharply, to the prothonotary:
+
+“Mr. Gaylord,” he said, “take the verdict.”
+
+The prothonotary did as he was bidden:
+
+“Gentlemen of the jury, hearken unto your verdict as the court has
+it recorded. In the case wherein John Bradley is plaintiff, and
+the Malleson Manufacturing Company is defendant, you find for the
+defendant. And so say you all?”
+
+The jurors nodded their heads. The Bradley case was at an end.
+
+“Mr. Duncan,” said the judge to the court crier, “you may adjourn court
+until ten o’clock to-morrow morning.”
+
+The aged crier arose and droned out:
+
+“Hear ye! Hear ye! Hear ye! The several courts are now adjourned till
+to-morrow morning at ten o’clock.”
+
+It was not until then that Barry Malleson fairly recovered his breath.
+He and the rector had both arisen. “Did you ever hear of each a
+thing?” he asked. “The impertinence of the fellow! To stand there and
+criticize the honorable judge to his face! Why, he should have been
+fined for contempt of court, and imprisoned as well, without benefit of
+clergy too――no pun intended.”
+
+“And none charged,” replied the rector. “I’m not sure, though, but that
+the man was more than half right.”
+
+“Why, Mr. Farrar!” exclaimed Barry; “my dear sir! If juries were
+permitted to take the law into their own hands, what would become of
+our republican institutions? Where would be our guarantees of law
+and order? The next step in advancing civilization, sir, will be the
+complete abolition of the entire jury system.”
+
+“Along with the obsolete form of democratic government, I suppose,”
+laughed the rector.
+
+“I am not prepared at this moment,” replied Barry, “to go to that
+extreme; but incidents of unblushing presumption, such as we have
+just witnessed, make one feel that some kind of a curb must be put on
+the lower and less intelligent classes, or they will become actually
+tyrannical.”
+
+In the meantime the judge had left the bench. The court-room audience
+was shuffling noisily out. The jurors, who had just rendered their
+enforced verdict, found their hats, and all except No. 7 strolled
+down the aisle by twos and threes discussing the sudden ending of the
+case. The lawyer for the plaintiff gathered up his books and papers,
+thrust them into his green bag, and then stopped to consult with the
+plaintiff’s wife. Westgate and his client strolled across the bar
+enclosure to where Barry and the rector were standing.
+
+“Congratulations, old boy!” said Barry to the lawyer. “You did a fine
+piece of work!”
+
+“Oh,” replied Westgate carelessly, “the case was easy. The law was all
+on our side.” He turned to the rector. “We are always glad to see you
+in court, Mr. Farrar.”
+
+“The court-room is an extremely interesting place,” replied the
+clergyman.
+
+“More interesting than profitable, if one is a litigant,” remarked Mr.
+Malleson. “I suppose, when the millennium comes, there will be no more
+litigation, Mr. Farrar?”
+
+“No,” replied the clergyman. “The voice of the lawyer will no longer be
+heard in the land, and we shall have a thousand years of peace.”
+
+Barry laughed, but the others only smiled.
+
+“That’s one on me,” said Westgate. “Are you going our way, Mr. Farrar?
+Will you come along with us?”
+
+“No,” replied the clergyman, “thank you! I want to stop and speak to
+Mrs. Bradley. A little consolation might not come amiss. She must be
+suffering severely from disappointment.”
+
+“Good idea!” broke in Barry. “The woman is certainly to be pitied. No
+doubt she’s the victim of bad advice. I’ve a great mind to stop and
+talk to her myself, and explain the law to her, and the attitude of
+our company in the matter. It may be that she’s entirely ignorant and
+innocent.”
+
+“Don’t fool yourself, Barry,” said Westgate. “She’s no weakling. I
+know. She may possibly accept condolence from Mr. Farrar, but I’m
+mighty certain she won’t accept it from you.”
+
+“There’s no harm in trying, is there?” persisted Barry. “It would be
+extremely interesting and informing to hear the woman talk.”
+
+Mr. Malleson turned to his son.
+
+“You let Mrs. Bradley alone,” he said. “When she comes to her senses
+about this thing, and dismisses her shyster lawyer, we may do something
+for her; not as a matter of right, but as a matter of grace.”
+
+“Certainly!” replied Barry, “as a matter of grace. That’s the only
+ground on which any of these people are entitled to help from any of
+us.”
+
+In obedience to his father’s injunction he refrained from approaching
+Mrs. Bradley. Nevertheless he cast a longing eye in her direction and
+then, with apparent reluctance, followed his father and Westgate from
+the court-room.
+
+But the rector of Christ Church remained. This tragedy in law had
+stirred him deeply. From his broad, humanitarian point of view, while
+the letter of the law had doubtless been upheld, justice, at the same
+time, had been mocked. He had not said so to defendant’s counsel, nor
+to the president of the defendant company. He had not cared to get
+into a controversy with them. But he realized, as perhaps no other
+spectator in the court-room had realized, how sharply and bitterly this
+unexpected termination of her year’s struggle for justice had fallen on
+the soul of the woman who had borne the burden of the fight. His quick
+sympathy went out to her. The desire to comfort her if possible, to
+help her if he could, was strong within him.
+
+Not that her disappointment was especially manifest. She did not
+shrink, nor grow pale, nor weep, when she heard the charge of the court
+which virtually sentenced her to a life of unrelieved poverty and toil.
+She did not, even now, as she stood talking quietly with counsel, look
+like one who had just toppled from the pinnacle of hope to the pit of
+despair. Yet that she had done so there could be no doubt.
+
+As her lawyer turned away, both the rector and Juror No. 7 approached
+her. She turned her back on the rector, and held out her hand to the
+juror, smiling on him as she did so.
+
+“I don’t know you by name,” she said, “but I want to thank you for
+having the courage of your convictions. I’m told it’s not often a juror
+dares do what you’ve done to-day.”
+
+The man was a little abashed as he replied:
+
+“Oh, that’s all right! I don’t mind saying what I think to anybody. I
+wish I could have done something for you, though. I wish the jury could
+have got a chance at that case.”
+
+“So do I. But the judge couldn’t afford to let you get a chance at
+it. He knew what you’d do with it. His rich friends would have been
+displeased. It was their money that elected him, wasn’t it?”
+
+“Well, I don’t know about that. I guess he was elected fair enough.
+But, to my way of thinking, when it comes to doing justice, as between
+man and man, or man and corporation, twelve men are better able to
+decide than one, and if the law’s different from that, then the law
+ought to be changed.”
+
+“Oh,” she said, “it doesn’t matter much about the law, nor about what
+anybody’s idea of justice is; the important thing is that the rich
+must stay rich, and the poor must stay poor. It’s the business of the
+lawyers and the judges to see that it’s done. That’s what they’re paid
+for. It would have set a bad example to the poor for my husband to have
+won his case. Some other poverty-stricken wretch might have tried by
+law to get a little of the justice that’s due him. They’ve won their
+point, but maybe they’ve made a mistake, after all. Maybe Richard
+Malleson has sowed the wind. I believe he has. Not that John Bradley
+will ever be able to resent what’s been done to him, but I will, and,
+as God lives, I’ll do it!”
+
+The clergyman, standing near by, could not see her face; but her
+words came distinctly to his ears. Her voice rose slightly toward the
+end, but it was not so much its pitch as its expression of fierce
+determination that moved and startled him. The juror, too, seemed to
+be somewhat awed by the woman’s intensity, and waited a moment before
+answering her. Finally he said:
+
+“I ain’t so sure as you seem to be that the rich, and those in power,
+are trying to keep the rest of us under their heels; but I am sure that
+justice hasn’t been done in your case, and if things like this keep on
+happening in our courts, something is going to drop in this country
+some day.”
+
+“I believe you,” she replied; “and when it does drop, I pray that the
+first man it hits will be the one who is responsible for――this.”
+
+She turned, with a slight gesture, toward the unobserving and apparently
+unthinking clod in the wheel-chair. Her face, visible now to the rector,
+with its flowing eyes and parted lips, was a picture of subdued but
+vindictive anger.
+
+Apparently the juror thought it time to bring the conversation to an
+end, for he said:
+
+“Well, I must be going. I just stopped to say I was sorry for you, and
+to say if I could help you any way I’d be glad to. My name is Samuel
+Major. I’m a wagon-maker. My shop is around on Mill Street.”
+
+He held out his hand to her and she took it.
+
+“Thank you,” she said, “for your sympathy and kindness, and for your
+interference in our behalf. It didn’t amount to anything, of course;
+it couldn’t. But it showed where you stood, and that’s what we want,
+nowadays, men who think, and who are not afraid to say what they think.
+Good-bye!”
+
+“Good-bye!”
+
+He hurried away, but turned back again to ask:
+
+“Are you going to take the case up to a higher court? or haven’t you
+decided about that yet?”
+
+“I have decided,” she replied. “I shall not take it up. I’m done
+with law and lawyers, and trying to get justice through the courts.
+Hereafter I’ll get it in my own way.”
+
+It was not until the juror mentioned his name that the clergyman
+recognized him as an occasional attendant on the services at Christ
+Church. He had no pew nor sitting; but his children went to the
+Sunday-school, and the rector had called once or twice at the house,
+finding only the mother at home. So, as the man started toward the
+aisle, the clergyman intercepted him and shook hands with him.
+
+“I, also,” he said, “want to thank you for your conscientious courage,
+and for your sympathy with these disappointed people. I’ve been waiting
+to condole with Mrs. Bradley myself, although I am a stranger to her.”
+
+“You’ll find her pretty bitter.”
+
+“So much the more need for sympathy.”
+
+“Yes, it won’t come amiss. She’s been hard hit, and it isn’t right.”
+
+“I believe you. That’s one of the problems that you and I, together
+with the rest of the American people, have got to thresh out sooner or
+later: how to right social wrongs without creating social calamities.”
+
+“Well, I think you’re giving us some pretty good advice along that
+line. I’ve been once or twice to hear you preach lately, and it seems
+to me you’re on the right track.”
+
+“I hope so. Come again.”
+
+“Thank you! I intend to.”
+
+The man went on down the aisle, and the rector walked back toward Mrs.
+Bradley. She had, in the meantime, been busying herself about her
+husband, buttoning his coat, putting his hat on his head, making him
+ready for the desolate journey home. The clergyman approached her.
+
+“I am Mr. Farrar,” he said, “rector of Christ Church.”
+
+“Yes,” she replied quietly, “I know who you are.”
+
+“I have been deeply stirred by this case of yours. I want to give you
+my sympathy, and to talk with you about your husband and yourself.”
+
+“Thank you! I have no time to talk now. I must hurry home.”
+
+“Pardon me! I’ll not keep you. But I’ll call on you, if I may, at your
+leisure.”
+
+“I shall have no leisure.”
+
+“Then at your convenience.”
+
+“It will not be convenient.”
+
+It was strange that the woman who had so eloquently poured her grievance
+into the ears of the friendly juror should have become so suddenly
+taciturn and unapproachable. The clergyman could not understand it. But
+it was his business, as a servant of Christ, to break down barriers that
+separated him from human hearts, so he persisted.
+
+“Surely,” he said, “you will not refuse to see me. I understand your
+disappointment. I realize your suffering. I may be able to comfort you,
+possibly to help you. Give me the opportunity to try.”
+
+She straightened up then, and faced him.
+
+“I don’t want to be rude to you,” she replied. “I have nothing against
+you. I’ve heard that you are well-intentioned toward men and women who
+work. But I have little use for preachers. They are hired by the rich,
+they associate with the rich, they are under the control of the rich.
+They have nothing in common with the class to which I belong, therefore
+they cannot help us. I am sure you can do no good, either to my husband
+or to me. I’d rather you wouldn’t come.”
+
+She turned again to her husband and began to tuck in the plaid robe
+that covered his lap. The clergyman stood, startled and speechless.
+This was the first time in his life that he had been arraigned in this
+manner. After a moment, however, he gathered his thoughts sufficiently
+to say:
+
+“I think you misjudge us, Mrs. Bradley. I know you misjudge me. It is
+my effort to do the Master’s will among all His people, rich or poor,
+humble or exalted.”
+
+“Yes, that’s what they all say. But they do discriminate, and I don’t
+see how they can help it, and hold their jobs. No, I’d rather you
+wouldn’t come. I don’t want to see you.”
+
+“I hope this is not your final answer.”
+
+“It is my final answer.”
+
+But the tone of her voice was not unkind as she said it, and in her
+eyes there was no look of hostility.
+
+“Nevertheless,” he replied, “I shall not lose sight of you. I shall
+keep you in mind, and――I shall pray for you.”
+
+She laughed a little at that.
+
+“You’d only waste your breath,” she said. “John Bradley knows little
+about prayers, and I care less. If you want to be really kind to us you
+will simply let us alone and forget us.”
+
+“I want to be really kind to you, Mrs. Bradley; therefore I cannot
+forget you; but I will respect your wish and will not trouble you,
+unless Providence should put it in my way to render you a Service which
+you will not resent.”
+
+She took his proffered hand, but said nothing more to him. And when he
+had bidden good-bye to the unresponsive paralytic in the wheel-chair,
+he turned and left the court-room.
+
+A tipstaff came up to help get John Bradley to the street. Through all
+the excitement of the closing hours of the trial the position of his
+body had not changed, nor had the expressionless stare of his eyes.
+There had been no indication in his face that he realized, in any
+degree, the importance of the litigation of which he was the center,
+nor its sudden and disastrous termination. Speechless, emotionless,
+unheeding and unlovely, he had sat the case through from the beginning
+with apparently no conception of its meaning or its outcome.
+
+The tipstaff rolled the wheel-chair, with its human freight, down the
+aisle and into the hall, followed by Mary Bradley.
+
+A janitor came into the room to sweep up the litter on the floor, and,
+as he swept, he hummed a plaintive ditty that had long been favored of
+him:
+
+    “John Jifkins, he to court would go;
+         Listen to the tale I tell!
+     His story it was full of woe;
+     His lawers fought, but the judge said no,
+     That Jifkins hadn’t a ghost of a show,
+         And it ended there. Ah well!
+               Heigh-ho!
+         Jingle the court-house bell.”
+
+The janitor finished his song and his task and departed. Silence fell
+on the big room, and the shadows of the waning day crept in and took,
+each one, its accustomed place. Darkness came, and, under its cover,
+ghosts of old and unnumbered tragedies, enacted through the years
+within the confines of the four gray walls, came out to stride back and
+forth across the wide spaces, up and down the enclosure for the bar,
+and in and out among the vacant chairs of the jury box; to ascend even
+to the sacred precinct of the bench, and stand grimly behind the chair
+from which white-robed Justice, with her bandaged eyes and well-poised
+scales, was supposed to listen to the cry of all who sought her aid.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER II
+
+                           AN ACT OF CHARITY
+
+
+The rector of Christ Church did keep in mind, as he had said he would,
+the disappointed litigant in the Bradley case. He thought of her often.
+The picture of her crippled and mindless husband as he sat in his
+wheel-chair in the court-room, staring blankly into space, came not
+infrequently before his eyes. Nor did he, in any service in which he
+read the prayer, “For a Person under Affliction,” forget, while reading
+it, those two, who had in very truth been visited with trouble and
+distress. But he respected the woman’s wish. He did not call upon her,
+he did not seek, in any way, to cross her path. It is true that he made
+some inquiry concerning her, and learned something of her condition, of
+her grievance against society, and of her personal history. But of this
+last there was not much to learn. She had been a laborer’s daughter;
+she had become a laborer’s wife. She had lost her only child by death.
+She was now supporting her crippled husband and herself by the labor of
+her hands. She had moved, with limited activities, in a narrow world.
+It was not an unusual story. The only circumstance that lifted it out
+of the commonplace was the fact of the woman’s exceptional beauty. It
+was true, also, that she was possessed of unusual mentality, and an
+education much better than that possessed by the wife of the average
+day-laborer, and these things set her somewhat apart from the other
+women of her social class. In all other respects there was nothing to
+distinguish her from them, many of whom, indeed, worked harder, and
+suffered more severe privations, than did she.
+
+Yet the rector of Christ Church would not have been able, had he tried,
+to dismiss her and her affairs from his mind. One reason for this was
+that the Bradley case had aroused public interest, and had excited
+general comment.
+
+It had formed the basis for a new attack on the courts. Labor and
+socialistic organizations had passed resolutions concerning it.
+Sensational newspapers had criticized sharply the action of Judge
+Bosworth in giving binding instructions to the jury. Shallow-minded
+controversialists had argued hotly, pro and con, concerning the powers
+of the courts under the state and federal constitutions. Indeed the
+case bade fair to become a _cause celebre_, not only in professional
+circles, but throughout the entire community. Mary Bradley’s face and
+figure had not before been unknown in the streets of the city. She was
+too beautiful to pass unnoticed, even in the cheap and modest costume
+of a laborer’s wife. But in these days she seldom went beyond the
+confines of Factory Hill, the district in which she lived, that she
+did not become an object of notice and a subject of comment, both on
+account of her beauty and of her relation to the Bradley case.
+
+Another reason why the woman had not passed out of the rector’s mind
+was that, since the trial, she had been twice to the services at Christ
+Church. She had occupied an inconspicuous seat, far in the rear, but,
+looking out over his congregation, his sharp eye had caught sight
+of her, and her presence there had brought him a peculiar sense of
+satisfaction. She had, on both occasions, escaped before he had had an
+opportunity to greet her, and he did not consider that the fact of her
+presence there warranted any intrusion on her by him at her home.
+
+The Reverend Mr. Farrar was not the only one who had noticed Mrs.
+Bradley at church. Many in his congregation had noted her presence,
+and had commented on it. On one occasion one of the church-wardens,
+who had stationed himself in the vestibule, spoke to her pleasantly
+as she passed out; but she barely noticed him, and he did not repeat
+his effort to extend to her the church’s welcome. Barry Malleson was
+among those who had seen her at church, and who was interested in
+her presence there. Not that Barry was concerned about her religious
+welfare, nor in the fact that her attendance added one more to the
+already large congregations. Religion and the propaganda of the Church
+had for him, as he himself said, “only an academic interest.” He
+attended the morning services because it was the thing for a gentleman
+to do; because the members of his family were devout worshipers there;
+and because the best and most exclusive people in the city, the people
+with whom he associated, were regular attendants.
+
+It was not only at the church that he saw Mrs. Bradley; he came upon
+her now and then on the street. And each additional time that he saw
+her the fact of her remarkable beauty became more deeply impressed upon
+his not unimpressionable mind. He could not forget her. She appeared
+to him frequently when she was not within the range of his physical
+vision. Her countenance, her figure, her bearing and expression, the
+look in her wonderful eyes, had become familiar to him, though he had
+seen her only casually, and less than a dozen times. It was not a
+case of romantic attraction, for, although Barry was five and thirty,
+unmarried and unattached, the woman had a husband, such as he was, and
+Barry, despite his weaknesses, was clean-minded and sincere. He had had
+many affairs of the heart in his time; he had flitted from flower to
+flower; he had, after a way peculiarly his own, suggested marriage to
+more than one of the belles of the city, but none of those to whom he
+had thus spoken had taken him seriously; and from each romantic mishap
+he had made rapid and complete recovery. Perhaps Ruth Tracy had been
+the one most desired by him. She was handsome, brilliant, sympathetic,
+of aristocratic family, fitted to grace any man’s home; moreover she
+was the superlative choice of his mother and sisters. But, whenever
+he approached the topic of matrimony, she parried his advances,
+complimented him on his good looks, his faultless attire, and his manly
+bearing. She never said anything about his mental capacity. And then,
+suddenly, along came Phil Westgate, and, out from under his very eyes,
+captured the prize and bound her in golden chains of betrothal.
+
+So Barry was free, heart-whole, ready for the next romantic adventure.
+If Mrs. Bradley had also been free and heart-whole things might
+possibly have been different; but, as it was, he gave strict obedience
+to his father’s injunction, issued in the court-room on a memorable
+day, and “let Mrs. Bradley alone.” For, whatever else he was, Barry
+Malleson was a gentleman.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Reverend Robert Farrar was seated at his breakfast-table one
+September morning, a month after the trial, reading his morning paper.
+His three young children had already breakfasted, and the two older
+of them had been bundled off to school. His wife, sitting opposite
+to him, was still nibbling at her toast and sipping her coffee. In
+an obscure corner of the newspaper his eye fell upon a notice of the
+death of John Bradley. He had died from heart-failure, at the age of
+thirty-eight years. “He will be remembered,” the article concluded, “as
+the unsuccessful litigant in the celebrated case of Bradley vs. The
+Malleson Manufacturing Company.”
+
+“I must go to her!” exclaimed Mr. Farrar, laying down his paper.
+
+“Go to whom?” was the not unnatural inquiry of his wife.
+
+“To Mrs. Bradley. I see here that her husband died yesterday afternoon.
+I believe his death lifts the bar of her prohibition, and opens the way
+to her conscience.”
+
+“Is she the woman who refused to let you call on her after she had had
+the lawsuit?”
+
+“Yes, but I believe she will have a different mind toward me now. This
+last affliction, if it may be called such, should make her not only
+willing to see me, but should also make her susceptible to religious
+influence.”
+
+Mrs. Farrar said nothing, but the look on her face indicated that it
+was still her belief, as it had been from the start, that a woman
+who would refuse to permit Mr. Farrar to call on her for purposes of
+pious consolation was quite outside the bounds of susceptibility to
+any religious influence, exerted under any conditions. She had great
+admiration, not only for her husband’s intellectual force, but for
+his personal charm and persuasive power as well. She loved him, she
+believed in him, she trusted him implicitly; but she did not fully
+understand him. He trod in paths where she had neither the learning nor
+the ability to follow him; neither the mental nor the physical strength
+to share in the largeness of his thought, or in the intense application
+of that thought to the problems of his pastoral work. The most that
+she could do, and that she did faithfully, was to be a good wife and
+mother, to devote her spare time to the interests of the Church, and
+to find mild relaxation in the society of those people who, by reason
+of her birth and breeding, as well as of her position, welcomed her to
+their exclusive circles.
+
+“I wish,” said the clergyman, expressing the continuation of his
+thought, “that I might make an opportunity for you to call on Mrs.
+Bradley. I believe that in her present misfortune she might be willing
+to accept the ministrations of a good woman of the Church.”
+
+“Yes, dear. I will call on her if you wish it. Only I don’t see how I
+could possibly have any influence on a woman who doesn’t believe in the
+power of prayer. It seems so shocking to me.”
+
+“I know. It is shocking. But I hope we shall find her now in a better
+frame of mind. I am told that she is a very superior woman, and I
+am anxious to get her into the Church. If you could only manage to
+approach her on some sort of social level. I believe that the trouble
+with all of us Church people, the reason why we don’t reach people of
+the humbler kind, is that we don’t make our social plane broad enough
+to take them in. We assume too much superiority. They don’t like
+it, and I can’t blame them. When we bring ourselves to meeting them
+on terms of social equality we shall get them to share with us our
+religious blessings, and I’m afraid not before.”
+
+“Yes, dear.”
+
+She felt that the conversation was already drifting beyond her easy
+comprehension, and that the only thing for her to do was to acquiesce.
+Yet, notwithstanding her respect for her husband’s social theories,
+the depths of which she was never quite able to comprehend, she could
+not help a feeling of revolt at the idea of associating, on terms of
+equality, with people of the cruder if not the baser sort, with such a
+person, for instance, as Mary Bradley, who ignored religion, and who
+had flouted the rector of Christ Church.
+
+“And you know,” added the rector, “she has been twice lately to our
+morning services.”
+
+“I know, but that doesn’t necessarily make her congenial. Do you really
+mean, Robert, that we should treat these people――a person like Mrs.
+Bradley, for instance,――exactly as our equals?”
+
+“Certainly! Why not? Christ was no respecter of persons.”
+
+“I know. And their husbands? And their children the same as our own?
+Should I, for instance, let Grace and Robbie play freely with the
+children on the street back of the rectory?”
+
+“Those children are entitled to the benefit of the culture and
+good breeding of our own, and they can learn these things only by
+association.”
+
+“But, Robert, dear, suppose our children should learn things from them
+that do not belong to culture and good breeding. As an example, Robbie
+came home the other day with an awful word, and when I asked him where
+he had got it, he said he had learned it from the McBreen boy on the
+back street.”
+
+“Then,” said the rector, with an air of finality, “you should have seen
+the McBreen boy, and explained to him the naughtiness of the word, and
+requested him not to use it.”
+
+“So I did, and he replied that he had learned it from his father, and
+if his father had a right to use it he had, and he’d like to see any
+stuck-up preacher’s wife stop him.”
+
+The rector laughed a little, and rose from the table.
+
+“Oh, well,” he said, “the principle holds good anyway. But we must
+apply it with judgment. We can spoil the best of our precepts by
+putting them into injudicious practice. And you always reach the end of
+an argument, Alice, by the _ad absurdum_ route.”
+
+He looked at his watch and added:
+
+“I think I’ll go up to Mrs. Bradley’s this morning. My afternoon is
+full, and the sooner the call is made the better.”
+
+But when he was ready to start, and had actually gotten to the
+hall-door, his wife called him back.
+
+“Robert, dear,” she said, “don’t you think Ruth Tracy could do much
+better than I on that visit to Mrs. Bradley? I don’t want to shirk any
+of the parish work, really I don’t; but she is so much better adapted
+than I am to――to that sort of thing, you know; and she is so heartily
+in accord with your views on social equality and all that.”
+
+“Well, perhaps; we’ll see. Don’t let it bother you. Maybe we’ll not get
+the opportunity to visit her anyway. I am only hoping that we shall.”
+
+But he could not help thinking, as he went down the steps and out to
+the street, how much more effectively his parish work could be done,
+especially his work among the poor, if only his wife were possessed
+of greater zeal, of greater ability, of greater sympathy with the
+unfortunate and with those on whom the hand of adversity had fallen
+heavily. And, in logical sequence, his thought went on to consider what
+an ideal helpmate for a clergyman Ruth Tracy would be. She, indeed,
+had not only intellect and skill, not only the ability to manage
+successfully the social affairs of a parish, not only a pious zeal for
+the work of the Church, but also a broad sympathy for those who were
+in any kind of distress, and a charming personality that drew to her,
+irresistibly, all classes of people. Yet she was to marry a layman,
+Philip Westgate the lawyer, a vestryman of Christ Church, active in its
+business affairs; but a non-communicant, who, apparently, had never
+been impressed with the necessity of subscribing to the creed, or of
+identifying himself, religiously, with the Church. It was a comforting
+thought to the rector, however, that in the event of Miss Tracy’s
+marriage he would not necessarily lose her valued assistance as a
+helper in the parish work.
+
+Still, it was a pity that she was not to become a minister’s wife. And
+with this thought fresh in his mind, as he turned the corner into Main
+Street, he ran plump into Westgate himself. The two men were going in
+the same direction and they walked on together.
+
+“I see,” said the rector, “that John Bradley, against whom you obtained
+a verdict last month, died yesterday. I am going up to call on his
+widow.”
+
+“Indeed!” was the reply. “I hadn’t heard of it; but I’m not surprised.
+I was not aware, though, that the Bradleys were in any way connected
+with the parish.”
+
+“They are not. They are not affiliated with any religious organization,
+so far as I can learn. That is one reason why I am going up there.”
+
+Westgate looked at the rector a little doubtfully, but made no reply.
+
+“I have seen Mrs. Bradley at our services once or twice of late,” added
+the clergyman, “and it occurred to me that it might be an opportune
+time to tender to her the good offices of the Church. It may also well
+be that she is in need of material help.”
+
+“That’s possible. It’s unfortunate that she didn’t accept Mr. Malleson’s
+offer at the time of the accident.”
+
+“What was his offer? I hadn’t heard of it.”
+
+“I presume not. Few people have. It’s popular to exploit the
+heartlessness of corporations, but there are not many who are willing
+to mention their deeds of generosity. Why, Mr. Malleson offered to pay
+all doctor’s bills made or to be made in connection with Bradley’s
+injury, and to make them a gift of fifteen hundred dollars besides. I
+considered that to be a very liberal offer, inasmuch as the company was
+not legally bound to pay them a penny.”
+
+“And Mrs. Bradley rejected it?”
+
+“Yes, she turned it down flat, and took up with Sheldrake――you know
+what kind of a lawyer he is――and Sheldrake brought suit for twenty-five
+thousand dollars damages――and lost his case, as I knew he would.”
+
+“Why did Mrs. Bradley refuse your proposition?”
+
+“Well, in the first place, because she didn’t consider the amount large
+enough; but principally because we offered it as a gratuity. She would
+have no gifts. We must acknowledge an obligation, and make our payment
+on that account, or she would have nothing to do with us. That’s the
+trouble with many of these people; they are too independent. They have
+no sense of proportion. They don’t appreciate their true relation to
+society. They quarrel with their bread and butter when it comes to
+them as a benevolence, and they refuse charity on the ground that they
+should receive help as a matter of right and not as a matter of grace.”
+
+“I am not sure but that they are right, Westgate. A man is a man
+regardless of the accident of birth or wealth; and society owes to
+him something besides and better than charity. There is a feeling
+among the laboring classes that they are not getting their fair share
+of the wealth which they help to produce; and that, if they did get
+it, charity, as it is now known, would become obsolete. There would be
+no occasion for its exercise. I believe that they are more than half
+justified in that feeling. I can’t blame them for refusing to accept as
+a gift that which they should have as a right. I am becoming convinced
+that if the Kingdom of Christ is ever to come on this earth it will
+only be when social and economic equality obtains among all men.”
+
+“Oh, that’s socialism, Mr. Farrar. That’s socialism pure and simple.
+I haven’t time to discuss that subject with you this morning. You see
+we’re here at my office building already. But come up to dinner some
+evening. Bring Mrs. Farrar with you. Mother is especially fond of Mrs.
+Farrar――and we’ll thresh the thing out. I’m prepared to demolish the
+doctrines of every socialist from Karl Marx to John Spargo.”
+
+“Good! I’ll come. I’ll bring Mrs. Farrar. I anticipate an evening of
+real enjoyment.”
+
+The two men shook hands and separated. But before the rector had gone
+two steps he turned and called to Westgate.
+
+“I don’t want you to misunderstand me,” he said, when they again met,
+“not even temporarily. While there are many things in the socialist
+propaganda that appeal to me strongly, I do not swallow it _in toto_.
+I do not go much farther than the acceptance of the theory of social
+and economic equality of which I spoke. And there are some doctrines
+advocated by socialist leaders and writers with which I am entirely at
+variance.”
+
+“How about the theory that the marriage tie should be freely dissolved
+at the will of the parties?” asked Westgate.
+
+“That theory is abhorrent to me,” replied the minister. “I stand
+squarely with my Church on all matters relating to marriage; as I
+do on all other matters concerning which the Church has made any
+pronouncement.”
+
+“That’s comforting, at least,” replied Westgate, smiling. “I suppose,
+however, that you accept the Marxian theory of surplus values?”
+
+“I believe the principle is sound.”
+
+“And the economic interpretation of history?”
+
+“No. I am not ready to assent fully to that doctrine. It approaches
+too closely to the border of materialism to suit me. It is possible,
+however, that I do not completely understand it.”
+
+“Well, I believe, when we have gone over the whole subject, that we
+shall find ourselves in accord on many things. It’s a fascinating
+theme, but neither of us has time to discuss it at length this morning.
+There is something, however, that I’ve been wanting to say to you for
+a long while, and it comes in here so exceedingly apropos that I’m
+greatly tempted to say it now.”
+
+“Do so, by all means.”
+
+“Thank you! I suppose it’s somewhat presumptuous for me, a
+non-communicant, even to appear to criticize the minister; but your
+sermons, especially of late, have seemed to some of us to savor of
+an attack on wealth; and you know that isn’t a particularly popular
+attitude for you to assume toward the congregation to which you preach.”
+
+“Not an attack on wealth, Mr. Westgate, but on the prevailing methods
+of the use and distribution of wealth.”
+
+“It amounts to the same thing.”
+
+“By no means! I shall try to convince you when we have that discussion.
+I don’t think you understand the real meaning of the gospel which
+I am trying to preach. It is not a gospel of destruction, but of
+regeneration. And in my judgment the hearts of the rich need
+regenerating as much as do the consciences of the poor.”
+
+“And I don’t think you understand the real meaning of the suggestion
+which I am trying to give you. You may call it a warning if you choose.
+It is not offered by way of criticism or complaint. The point is simply
+this: that you have a good many rich men in your church, and they
+give freely toward its support. You cannot afford to antagonize them
+unnecessarily.”
+
+“I know what you mean, and I appreciate the point you make. It is not
+a new one to me. I have considered it many times. I have thought the
+thing out carefully and prayerfully, and I have determined to preach
+the gospel of Christ as I think He would preach it if He were on earth
+to-day. I can do no less and square myself with my own conscience.”
+
+“But a clergyman should be politic as well as conscientious. I remember
+that the apostles were instructed to be ‘wise as serpents’ as well as
+‘harmless as doves.’ Well, we can’t settle it on the street corner,
+that’s sure. We’ll have to broaden our discussion to take in this
+branch of the subject, and occupy two evenings with it instead of one.
+So come soon!”
+
+They again separated, but it was Westgate this time who called the
+clergyman back.
+
+“By the way,” he said, “you are going up to see Mrs. Bradley?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Well, if you should find her in distress, economical distress, I mean,
+I am very sure that Mr. Malleson would be glad to contribute something
+toward her relief――two or three hundred dollars maybe; enough to pay
+funeral expenses and a little over. He harbors no resentment against
+her on account of the suit. He lays all that up against Sheldrake.
+Indeed, if the woman is suffering for necessaries, I should be glad to
+make a modest contribution myself.”
+
+“Thank you! I’ll find out. But the impression that I have of her is
+that she would be more likely to resent than to accept any gratuity
+from either Mr. Malleson or you. Nevertheless, I will keep your offer
+in mind, and I will present it to her if it should appear to be
+desirable to do so.”
+
+“Thank you!”
+
+The rector again turned away, but he did not get to Factory Hill
+that morning. Before he had gone two blocks from Westgate’s office a
+parishioner came hurrying after him and besought him to go to see a
+sick girl living in another suburb of the city, a girl who felt that
+she could not close her eyes to the scenes of earth until she had bared
+her soul to the rector of Christ Church. So he went to her.
+
+The Reverend Mr. Farrar was not the only one who discovered in the
+morning paper a notice of John Bradley’s death. Barry Malleson came
+upon it accidentally, as he came upon most other things of any moment,
+and it at once aroused his deep interest. He was at his desk in the
+president’s office at the factory, where he could be found practically
+every working day during office hours. His name appeared in the list
+of officers of the Malleson Manufacturing Company as vice-president.
+Some one said that it did no harm, and it tickled Barry’s vanity. His
+salary was quite satisfactory. His duties were not accurately defined,
+although they appeared to consist largely in obeying the president’s
+will, as a matter of fact, and of sustaining the burden of the conduct
+of the company’s affairs as a matter of personal belief. His father
+would have found it difficult to get along without him. He would have
+found it impossible to get along without his father. That Barry had his
+uses there can be no possible doubt. He was replete with suggestion,
+and that his suggestions were rarely acted upon never deterred nor
+discouraged him. He had a suggestion to make this morning in connection
+with John Bradley’s death. It came into his mind simultaneously with
+the reading of the death notice. He turned toward the man sitting at
+the desk across the room.
+
+“Father,” he said, “the time has come when we should do something for
+Mrs. Bradley.”
+
+The president of the Malleson Manufacturing Company did not look up
+from the work on which he was engaged, but he replied with a question:
+
+“How’s that?”
+
+“Her husband died yesterday.”
+
+“Whose husband?”
+
+“Mrs. Bradley’s. The man against whom we won the suit. I shouldn’t
+wonder if she might be financially embarrassed. It would be a fine
+opportunity to show that there is at least one corporation that has a
+soul.”
+
+The president was looking up from his papers now; hard-eyed,
+square-jawed, smooth-shaven, immaculate.
+
+“We have no right to give away our stockholders’ money,” he said
+shortly.
+
+“I know, father; but this is a case where we can afford to overstep
+the limits a little and be generous. Personally, and as vice-president
+of the company, I would recommend that a small gratuity be given to
+the woman on account of her husband’s death. We have done as much when
+other employees have died.”
+
+“But the others did not bring suit against us.”
+
+“Well, she has no suit pending against us now. She refused to let
+Sheldrake take the case up to a higher court, or even to move for a
+new trial. I understand she told him she never wanted to see his face
+again. And Westgate said the other day that it was too late for her to
+do anything more, even if she should change her mind about it.”
+
+The president mused for a moment before replying. Finally he said:
+
+“As the woman seems to have come to her senses, and is probably
+in need, I suppose we might do as we have done in other cases. I
+never laid the blame for the suit on her, anyway. It was that
+ambulance-chaser of a lawyer that put her up to it.”
+
+“That’s very true, father. What shall we give her?”
+
+“Let’s see! What did we give McAndrew’s widow when he died?”
+
+“Two hundred and fifty dollars. I know because I took the check to her
+myself, and she was so grateful she tried to kiss me. Gad!”
+
+Barry felt cold shivers running over him now as he recalled his narrow
+escape from the proposed osculatory embrace of the unattractive and
+slatternly but grateful widow of the deceased workingman.
+
+Mr. Malleson’s eyes twinkled mischievously.
+
+“I remember the circumstance,” he said, and added: “Perhaps Mrs.
+Bradley will be similarly grateful.”
+
+Barry leaned back in his chair and thrust his hands into his pockets.
+
+“Well,” he said, contemplatively, and in all seriousness, “I would
+think twice before declining a favor of that kind from Mrs. Bradley.
+She’s a remarkably attractive woman.”
+
+The president did not dwell further on the subject. It may have been
+because of its incongruity; it may have been because of some undefined
+feeling of foreboding that crossed his mind at that moment.
+
+“You may ask Page,” he said, “to draw her a check for two hundred and
+fifty dollars. Tell him to run it through the expense account, and to
+put in the voucher a statement that it is received by Mrs. Bradley as a
+gratuity from this company.”
+
+“Yes, sir.”
+
+Barry rose with unusual alacrity, but before he reached the door his
+father called to him:
+
+“A――Barry! Suppose you tell Page to make that four hundred instead of
+two fifty. There have been special hardships in this case, and the
+woman is undoubtedly capable of using the money judiciously.”
+
+“Yes, father. I, myself, was just about to recommend four hundred
+dollars. I think she can put the money to good use.”
+
+A little later Barry returned to the president’s room with Page, the
+treasurer, who brought with him a check and a voucher, both of which he
+handed to Mr. Malleson. The president examined the voucher carefully,
+signed the check, and handed the papers back to Page.
+
+“Shall I send a special messenger up with them?” asked the treasurer.
+
+“I’ll take them to her myself,” said Barry promptly.
+
+Page turned to him with a smile.
+
+“Hunting for a repetition of that experience with the Widow McAndrew,
+are you?” he asked.
+
+Barry’s experience with the Widow McAndrew was one of the standing
+jokes among the office force of the company.
+
+“Don’t mention it,” said Barry. “It gives me a chill now to think
+of it. You know I’m rather fastidious, Page, rather fastidious. And
+the woman wasn’t what you might call personally neat, and she’d been
+crying, and her hair wasn’t combed, and she certainly weighed not less
+than two hundred――no discoverable waist-line, you know; and when I saw
+her bearing down on me――――”
+
+The two men passed out of the room and closed the door behind them,
+Barry continuing with the relation of his oft-repeated story of the
+Widow McAndrew’s gratitude.
+
+In the meantime the president of the company had plunged again into the
+work on his desk. But when the door closed on Barry and Page he looked
+up, laid down his pen, rose and walked over to one of the windows and
+stood for many minutes looking out into the plaza on which his factory
+buildings fronted, and up the narrow street that led toward the heart
+of the city.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER III
+
+                       IN THE PRESENCE OF DEATH
+
+
+It was not until the afternoon of the day that he met Westgate on the
+street that the Reverend Mr. Farrar was able to go to Factory Hill. It
+was a suburban residence district, tenanted mostly by day-laborers and
+their families. It lay about two miles from the center of the city, on
+an elevated plateau overlooking the plant of the Malleson Manufacturing
+Company. The houses in the neighborhood were all small and unpretentious,
+and some of them were shabby and ill-kept. But the house that Mary
+Bradley occupied, small as it was, gave evidence of being well cared for
+by its tenant. The rector had no difficulty in finding it. Every one
+about there knew where Mrs. Bradley lived. He knocked at the
+crape-decorated door, and the mistress of the house, herself, opened it.
+When she saw who was standing there her face clouded. A visit from a
+clergyman was neither expected nor desired. But she felt that she could
+not afford to be remiss in hospitality, even to an unwelcome guest. So
+she invited him to come in. It was the living-room that he entered. From
+behind a closed door to the rear subdued sounds proceeded as though some
+one were working in the kitchen. Beyond another door, half opened, the
+rector caught a glimpse of a prone human body, covered over with a
+sheet. Otherwise Mary Bradley was alone. She made no pretense of being
+glad to see her visitor, but she set a chair for him, and waited until
+he should disclose his errand. And, now that he was here, he was at a
+loss to know just what he should say. He felt that this woman would
+resent any formal expression of sympathy, any meaningless platitudes,
+any pious attempt at consolation. So he compromised with his true errand
+by inquiring into the particulars of John Bradley’s death. There was not
+much for her to tell. He had failed, steadily, since the time of the
+trial. On the afternoon before, his heart had refused to perform its
+proper function, and all was soon over. She told it very briefly and
+concisely.
+
+“And the funeral, Mrs. Bradley?”
+
+“It will be to-morrow afternoon.”
+
+The rector thought it possible that she might ask him to come and read
+at least a prayer; but she made no suggestion of the kind. He attempted
+to draw her into conversation concerning herself, but she was reticent.
+She was not discourteous, but she was totally unresponsive. Finally,
+failing to approach the subject by degrees, he said to her abruptly:
+
+“I owe you an apology for coming here after you had declined to receive
+me; but I felt that, under changed conditions, a visit from me might
+not be wholly unwelcome. So I have run the risk of trespassing on your
+forbearance.”
+
+She made no reply, and he went on:
+
+“I have thought very often of you, and,” with a glance in the direction
+of the half-opened door, “of your unfortunate husband. I have many
+times wanted to give you such comfort as I could, such consolation as
+the Church offers to those in distress.”
+
+“Thank you!” she replied; “but I have stood in no particular need of
+comfort; and I’m very sure the Church has nothing to offer me, in the
+way of consolation, that would be of the slightest benefit to me.”
+
+This was not very encouraging, but the rector of Christ Church was not
+easily dismayed.
+
+“Even so,” he said, “you might still wish, or might be willing, to have
+me, as a minister, take part in the funeral service. I should esteem it
+a privilege to do that, with your permission.”
+
+“No,” she replied, “I can’t permit it. I appreciate your offer, but I
+don’t care to have the Church interested in my husband’s funeral.”
+
+“Why not, Mrs. Bradley?”
+
+She looked at him steadily for a moment before replying. Then she
+answered his question by asking another.
+
+“What did the Church ever do for John Bradley in his lifetime that it
+should concern itself now about the burial of his body?”
+
+He, too, paused for a moment before replying. Then he said:
+
+“The Church did all for John Bradley that he would permit her to do.
+Her doors were always open to him. She urged him, in countless ways,
+to partake of the consolations of religion under her auspices and
+protection. I, as a minister of Christ, may have been remiss in the
+performance of my duty; doubtless I have been, but the Church has never
+been derelict in the performance of hers, and she remains always the
+same.”
+
+She hastened to defend him against himself.
+
+“You haven’t been remiss,” she declared. “You’ve done what you’ve
+considered your duty as far as you’ve been permitted to do it. I’ve
+nothing against you. You’re better than your Church. I’ve heard other
+people say that. I’ve been once or twice to hear you preach. I may go
+again. I like what you say. But I’ve no use for the Church. I judge the
+Church by the people who support it and manage it. And I don’t care for
+the people who support and manage your church and sit in most of the
+pews.”
+
+“Why not, Mrs. Bradley?”
+
+“Because they are rich and look down on us. They hire us and pay us
+our wages; they dole out a little charity when we are in hard luck,
+but they would consider it a disgrace to associate with us on any kind
+of terms of equality. They don’t regard us as human beings with the
+same right that they have to live comfortably and be happy. If their
+religion teaches them that, if their Church permits it, I don’t want
+any of their religion, nor anything to do with their Church.”
+
+If he had succeeded in nothing else, he had at least succeeded
+in drawing her out, and in leading her to give expression to her
+grievance. But she had attacked the Church in a vulnerable spot, and it
+was his duty as a priest to defend the institution and its people.
+
+“I believe,” he said, “that you unwittingly do the men and women of
+Christ Church an injustice. There are many of them who are rich, it
+is true. But there are many of these who have warm hearts and a keen
+sense of human justice. You know there are such persons as Christian
+capitalists.”
+
+“Yes, I know. There,” pointing to the body in the next room, “lies one
+of their victims. John Bradley was killed by Christian capitalists.”
+
+“Mrs. Bradley, you are severe and unjust.”
+
+“Am I? Let me tell you.” She did not resent his reproof. She was
+perfectly calm; she was even smiling. But she wanted now to be heard.
+“Two years ago my husband worked in the Brookside factory, two miles
+down the river. You know the place. The company rented all the houses
+to its men. We had to take what they gave us; a miserable, dilapidated
+shack on the edge of a stagnant pond. My little girl took sick and
+pined away and the doctor said we ought not to keep her in such a
+place. When we thought she would die my husband went to the manager of
+the mills――he’s a shining light in the Church; not your church, but
+that doesn’t matter――and begged him, for the sake of the child, to give
+us a better house to live in. He told my husband that if he was not
+satisfied with the house the company had provided for him he was at
+liberty to quit his job; that his place could be filled in three hours’
+time. Well, John did quit his job, and found work here at the Malleson.
+But it was too late――to save――my baby’s life.”
+
+She paused, and a mist came over her eyes. For a moment the imperishable
+mother-love dominated her soul and silenced her tongue.
+
+“That was very sad,” said the rector.
+
+She repeated his words. “That was very sad.” After a moment she
+continued: “They gave John a good enough place at the Malleson, as good
+wages as any skilled workman gets; they drove him and bullied him as
+they do all of his kind――you know they are mere slaves, these factory
+workmen――and one day they put him into a cage, and some one there
+dropped him into a pit. When they took him out――well, he might better
+have been dead. You know; you saw him. Mr. Malleson sent a messenger to
+me with a paltry sum. I must accept it, not as compensation, but as a
+gift. And I must release all claims for damages. Naturally, I refused.
+I employed an attorney to bring suit and get what was justly due us.
+Mr. Malleson, he’s a pillar in your church, fought our claim with every
+weapon at his command. Mr. Westgate, his lawyer, a member of your
+vestry, set all of his wits to work to deprive us of our rights. But
+we would have won out against all of them if it hadn’t been that the
+judge on the bench, also a member, I believe, of your vestry, refused
+at the last minute to let the jury pass upon the case, and decided it
+himself, in favor of the Mallesons. I’m not a lawyer; I don’t know how
+it was done; perhaps you do. I only know that it was cruel and horribly
+unjust. Mr. Farrar, do you wonder that with these shining examples of
+your religion before me, and with two dead victims of your Christian
+capitalists to mourn over, I am not falling over myself in my haste to
+get into your Church?”
+
+She turned her piercing eyes away from the minister’s face, to let them
+rest for a moment on the rigid, sheet-covered figure lying in the next
+room. Her cheeks were aglow, her breast was heaving, she had spoken
+from the fulness of a bitter heart. And the rector of Christ Church
+could not answer her. She used a kind of concrete logic that he was not
+prepared at that moment to refute. The best he could do was to try to
+postpone the issue.
+
+“I shall not argue this out with you to-day,” he said. “I feel that you
+are entirely wrong in your estimate of religion and the Church, and
+some day, when the severity of your affliction has passed, I want to
+come again and talk with you. In the meantime will you not reconsider
+your refusal to recognize the Church in the matter of the burial of
+your husband?”
+
+“Why should I reconsider it? The Church has never recognized me. It
+never recognized John Bradley. Doling out charity is not recognition;
+inviting the poor to come and sit in the rear pews of your church is
+not recognition. Oh, I tell you, Mr. Farrar, I don’t want charity from
+your Church people, nor sympathy, nor a chance to crowd in to your
+services; what I want is plain human justice, with a right to live
+comfortably and be decent and happy. And when they begin to give that
+to me, I’ll begin to have some regard for their Church.”
+
+It was entirely plain to the rector that he could accomplish no
+religious purpose with this woman at this time, and he rose to go.
+
+“I am sorry,” he said, “for I really wanted to help you. I hope you
+believe that at any rate.”
+
+She rose in her turn. “I believe it,” she said.
+
+“And that my Master in heaven has compassion on you.”
+
+“I’ll believe that when He repudiates the conduct toward me of most of
+His followers here.”
+
+It was her parting shot. He did not reply to it, but he held out his
+hand to bid her good-bye. She took it with no reluctance.
+
+“Please understand,” she said, “that my grievance is not against you
+personally. I believe you are good and conscientious.”
+
+“Thank you!”
+
+The hum of an automobile came in to them from the street. The car had
+evidently stopped in front of Mrs. Bradley’s premises. The next minute
+a knock was heard at her door. She went and opened it. Barry Malleson
+stood there, smiling.
+
+“Mrs. Bradley, I believe?” he said.
+
+“I am Mrs. Bradley.”
+
+“And I am Barry Malleson, vice-president of the Malleson Manufacturing
+Company.”
+
+“Yes?”
+
+She stood in the doorway and he stood on the step. The door opened
+directly into the sitting-room where the Reverend Mr. Farrar was
+standing, ready to leave the house. Mrs. Bradley made no move, nor did
+she invite the vice-president of the Malleson Manufacturing Company to
+enter. He stood for a moment, expectantly, and then asked:
+
+“May I come in, Mrs. Bradley? I am here on an important errand.”
+
+“Certainly!” she moved aside, and he entered. His eyes fell upon the
+rector.
+
+“Why, Farrar!” he exclaimed, “this is certainly a surprise; I may say a
+most agreeable surprise.”
+
+“Thank you!” replied the minister. “I have been making a call of
+condolence on Mrs. Bradley. I am just going.”
+
+“Don’t go on my account. In fact I’d rather you would stay. I want you
+to hear what a soulless corporation is going to do for a destitute
+widow.”
+
+It occurred to the rector that he had forgotten to inquire concerning
+Mrs. Bradley’s physical needs, or to sound her on Westgate’s generous
+proposition. It was evident that Barry was about to relieve him so far
+as any tender of charity was concerned; but he had no mind to stay
+and hear the vice-president of the Malleson Manufacturing Company
+blunder tactlessly through an offer that was certain to be resented and
+refused.
+
+“Thank you!” he said, “but I have important matters to attend to in the
+city, and, with Mrs. Bradley’s permission, I will go.”
+
+She had stood there listening, a suspicion of a smile shaping itself on
+the full and perfectly curved lips, a peculiar gleam in her dark eyes
+over which the lids were now partly drooping. She turned to the rector.
+
+“I’d rather you would stay,” she said. “I, also, want you to hear what
+this gentleman has to say.”
+
+“If you wish it, certainly!” He placed a chair for her, and they all
+seated themselves.
+
+“That’s very kind of you, Farrar, I’m sure,” said Barry. He removed
+his gloves, and drew a long envelope from an inner pocket of his coat.
+Holding the envelope in his hand he continued:
+
+“I have here, Mrs. Bradley, an evidence of the generosity and good
+will toward you of the Malleson Manufacturing Company of which I have
+the honor to be vice-president. The company recognizes the fact that
+at the time of the injuries which resulted in his death, your husband
+was in the employ of our company, and that through no fault of ours,
+and I presume I may safely say, through no fault of his, the accident
+happened which――――”
+
+Barry suddenly stopped. He had caught sight, for the first time, of the
+sheeted and recumbent figure in the adjoining room. From a child he had
+had an unreasoning fear of dead bodies, and a dread of all the physical
+conditions and changes which the passing of life implies. The vision of
+death which confronted him stopped his flow of speech, and sent to the
+roots of his hair that chilly creepiness that strikes into the flesh
+when things dreaded and feared are suddenly seen. His wide eyes were
+fixed on the repellent object in the next room, and it was apparent
+that he was powerless to turn them away, for he said to the rector
+without looking at him:
+
+“A――Farrar, would you mind closing that door?”
+
+But the widow herself arose and went to the door and closed it tightly.
+When she resumed her seat, the smile on her lips was a trifle more
+pronounced, and the strange light in her eyes glimmered more noticeably.
+
+“You know,” said Barry, “a dead body always gets on my nerves, whether
+it’s a horse or a dog or a man. I can’t abide the sight of any of them.
+Well, as I was saying when we were interrupted――let me see! what was I
+saying?”
+
+“You were speaking,” said the widow, “of the generosity of your
+company.”
+
+“Yes,” continued Barry, “the――the generosity of my company.” He paused
+again. The untoward incident seemed to have quite broken the continuity
+of his thought.
+
+“You know, Mrs. Bradley,” he went on after a moment, “the company
+doesn’t owe you anything.”
+
+“No,” she replied, “the obligation is quite on the other side. I owe
+your company something which I shall some day try to repay――with
+interest.”
+
+Witless and unseeing, he blundered on: “Don’t mention it, my good
+woman. Our company bears no resentment. In fact we have decided, on my
+recommendation as vice-president, to treat you as generously as we do
+widows of our employees with whom we have had no quarrel.”
+
+“And who have not imagined that they had rights which your company was
+bound to respect,” said the widow.
+
+“Exactly,” replied Barry. “Who have not harassed us with ridiculous
+lawsuits, which they could never hope to win.”
+
+“I trust,” said the widow, “that you will pardon me for that
+presumption. I didn’t know, really, how ridiculous and unreasonable my
+lawsuit was until the judge informed me from the bench.”
+
+“No, I suppose not. But when you learned, by judicial pronouncement, in
+what a false position you had been placed, you discharged your lawyer
+and dropped the case. That was very wise and proper. And, in view of
+that fact, we have decided to be especially liberal toward you. We――we
+have usually paid to――to――――”
+
+Whether his nerves had been unstrung by the sight of the death chamber,
+or whether his senses were being dulled by the fascination of magnetic
+eyes, of perfect, parted lips disclosing white and even teeth, of a
+feminine charm which appealed to him irresistibly; whatever may have
+been the cause, he had lost his easy loquacity and was stumbling along
+in a manner most unusual for him.
+
+“We have generally paid,” he repeated, “to widows of――of――――”
+
+“Victims,” she suggested.
+
+“Yes; of victims of――of their own carelessness and lack of
+brains,――always as a gift――a gift pure and simple, you know――the sum of
+two hundred and fifty dollars.”
+
+“I understand,” she said. “A pure and simple gift.”
+
+“Exactly.”
+
+“And a very munificent gift, considering the low social grade and
+primitive habits and general unworthiness of those who usually receive
+it.” Stupid that he was, or stupefied, he did not come within a
+thousand miles of piercing the thin veil of her sarcasm.
+
+“Very true,” he replied. “But we recognize the fact that there have
+been peculiar hardships surrounding your case, and we desire to
+treat――you with still greater munificence.”
+
+“How extremely kind and considerate to an unfortunate victim
+of――circumstances.”
+
+“Yes; it is our purpose to be kind and considerate. Therefore we
+have decided――and as vice-president of the company I recommended the
+action――we have decided to make you a gift of four hundred dollars.”
+
+She lifted her hands as if in delighted astonishment.
+
+“How extraordinary!” she exclaimed. “You overwhelm me by your
+liberality. Are you quite sure it won’t interfere with paying
+dividends, or salaries, or anything like that?”
+
+“Not――not at all, Mrs. Bradley.” But he looked, for the first time
+during the interview, a bit uncertain, as if he had a dim sense of
+something, somewhere, not being exactly right.
+
+During all this time the rector had sat without opening his lips. There
+had been no occasion for him to speak. With ever-growing astonishment
+he had watched Barry paving his own path to sure disaster. With
+ever-growing apprehension he had watched the rising tide of indignation
+in the woman’s breast. Could it be possible that the fellow sitting
+there was so dim of vision, so witless in intellect, that he could not
+see the gathering thunder-clouds in her face, the gleam of lightning in
+her half-veiled eyes; could not realize that a storm, the fury of which
+would be terrible beyond belief, was about to break on his unprotected
+head? But the rector of Christ Church knew what was coming, if Barry
+did not, and he knew that the moment for the cataclysm had about
+arrived. He moved uneasily in his chair, and his movement attracted the
+widow’s attention. She turned her eyes on him.
+
+“We are keeping you,” she said, “without cause. You need not wait any
+longer. I know what the situation is, and I can handle it without help.
+Thank you for staying as long as you have.”
+
+She rose and held out her hand to him. He took it, but he said:
+
+“I can stay still longer if――――”
+
+She interrupted him:
+
+“It is not at all necessary. Indeed, I would prefer that you should go
+now.”
+
+It was plain to the rector that she did not care to have him witness
+her outburst of wrath when it should come. Yet he was not quite
+satisfied to go and leave Barry alone with her, unsuspecting and
+unprotected. It seemed a bit cowardly on his part, much as he might
+dread to see the hurricane. He half hoped that Barry would say
+something that would make it necessary for him to remain. But Barry
+said nothing of the kind. He simply shook hands and remarked that he
+would doubtless overtake the minister on the way back, and added that
+his errand was about done anyway, with the exception of handing Mrs.
+Bradley the check and getting her signature to the voucher, and he was
+sure that that could be done without ministerial help. Indeed, in his
+own mind, he was rather pleased than otherwise at the prospect of being
+alone for a few minutes with this remarkable woman, even with the stark
+body of her dead husband lying grimly in the next room.
+
+So the Reverend Mr. Farrar went his way. The door closed behind him,
+and Mrs. Bradley and Barry turned back into the room, but they did not
+resume their seats. He lifted the flap of the envelope which he still
+held in his hand, and drew forth a check and a voucher.
+
+“If you will kindly sign this receipt,” he said, “I will hand you the
+check. I brought my fountain pen with me. I didn’t know how you might
+be fixed here for writing materials.”
+
+“That was very thoughtful of you,” she remarked.
+
+She took the check and looked at it carefully.
+
+“And is this,” she asked, “your father’s signature?”
+
+“Yes. I sign checks only in his absence.”
+
+“And――might I keep this as a souvenir? He is such a great and good man.”
+
+“Why, you have to give up the check, you know, when you get your money.”
+
+“Indeed! How unfortunate!”
+
+She took the voucher and examined it in its turn.
+
+“And do I sign this?” she asked.
+
+“Yes, if you please.”
+
+“Oh! I see,” still looking at the paper, “that I receive the four
+hundred dollars as a gift.”
+
+“Yes, purely as a gift.”
+
+“Ah! Couldn’t you put in somewhere how undeserving I am of it, and how
+grateful I am to get it?”
+
+“Why, that’s not necessary, Mrs. Bradley. We――we take all those things
+for granted, you know.”
+
+“Oh! And this says also that I release all claim for damages.”
+
+“Yes. We thought it best to put that in. You never can tell what may
+happen.”
+
+“I see! Don’t you think that it ought also to say that I acknowledge
+my unworthiness and inferiority, and yield up my self-respect, and
+recognize my own deplorable social condition? Don’t you?”
+
+He did not reply. It was dawning on him at last that she had been
+trying to pierce him with shafts of ridicule. Now her manner was
+changing from gentle raillery into that of biting and open sarcasm. She
+threw the papers down on the table in front of him and backed away. She
+stood erect and dignified. Her eyes, widely open now, were luminous
+with wrath. Her lips were parted still, but not in smiles. The gleam
+of her white teeth was ominous. She was like a splendid leopard, not
+crouching, but ready to seize upon her prey. It would seem that only
+a fool could have been unaware of his peril. Yet Barry Malleson stood
+there, vaguely wondering why she should have grown suddenly sarcastic,
+and whether it was possible that she was about, after all, to decline
+the gratuity that he had offered to her. Of the fierce wrath that lay
+back of her piercing eyes, ready to flash in hot words from her tongue,
+he had no conception. Perhaps it was well that he had none. Heaven is
+often kind, in that way, to the mentally unfortunate.
+
+But she was not quite ready for the leap. There was one thing to be
+settled first.
+
+“Richard Malleson,” she said, “has sent you with a message to me. Will
+you, in turn, kindly take a message from me to Richard Malleson?”
+
+“With――with pleasure, Mrs. Bradley.” But he spoke hesitatingly. There
+was a ring in her voice, a certain rising inflection that gave him a
+sense of uneasiness. It seemed to sound a vague alarm.
+
+“Thank you! It is very appropriate to send the message by you, because,
+I believe, you are his son.”
+
+“Very true. I am his son.”
+
+His eyes were fixed on hers in open, frank, involuntary admiration.
+She saw his soul as plainly as though it had lain mapped and lettered
+before her.
+
+“You――are――his son,” she repeated slowly.
+
+The lids again half veiled her eyes. The hard lines on her lips
+relaxed. She put her hand up against her heart as though she were
+stifled by some sudden and overwhelming emotion. A chair stood by her
+and she dropped into it and began to pass her fingers absent-mindedly
+across her forehead.
+
+Barry was alarmed. He had noticed the quickened breathing, and the
+sudden pallor that had come into her face, and he feared that she was
+ill.
+
+“Shall I call some one?” he said.
+
+“Thank you, no. It was just a passing weakness. I’ve been on my feet
+a good deal and lost a good deal of sleep lately. Won’t you please be
+seated?”
+
+“No, I guess not. I won’t trespass any longer on your time and
+strength. If you’ll sign this voucher I’ll go.”
+
+“Please be seated for a moment. There’s something I want to tell you.”
+
+If there was any longer any wrath in her soul, her face did not show
+it, her voice did not indicate it. She looked up at him appealingly,
+with big and tender eyes. He could no more have refused her invitation
+to be seated than he could have refused to draw his next breath.
+
+“It is very kind of you――and of your father――to offer me the money,”
+she said, “but, really, I can’t accept it.”
+
+“Oh, but you must accept it, Mrs. Bradley. Why won’t you take it?”
+
+“Well, we are not in immediate need.”
+
+“That’s all right; you can lay it away.”
+
+“And I am opposed, on principle, to accepting charity.”
+
+“Then we won’t call it charity.”
+
+“Or gifts from those who are better off than I am. I don’t believe
+there should be any rich people to make gifts, nor any poor people to
+receive them. I think the wealth of the world should be more evenly
+distributed.”
+
+“Oh, but you’re wrong there, Mrs. Bradley. I think I can convince
+you――――”
+
+“I’m too tired to be convinced to-day, Mr. Malleson.”
+
+“Pardon me! I’ll come again later on and we’ll talk it over.”
+
+“As you wish.”
+
+“Say in the course of a week or two?”
+
+“If you desire.”
+
+She rose, as if to conclude the interview, and took the check and
+voucher from the table and handed them to him.
+
+“Can’t I prevail on you,” he said, “to accept this gift?”
+
+“Not to-day, Mr. Malleson.”
+
+“When I come again?”
+
+“Possibly. It is said that a woman is never twice of the same mind.”
+
+“Then I shall certainly come.”
+
+He was looking at her still with undisguised and ever-increasing
+admiration. Not that he was conscious of it. It was purely involuntary.
+He would not knowingly have sought, in this way, to impress or
+embarrass a woman whose husband’s dead body was lying just back of
+the first closed door. For he was a gentleman, and had a gentleman’s
+sense of the proprieties. But he was utterly powerless to hide the
+impression that the woman’s beauty was making on him. Moreover it was a
+versatile beauty. In the brief space occupied by his visit he had seen
+its character diametrically change. From the strong, scornful, splendid
+type maintained during the greater part of his interview with her, it
+had been transformed into the tender, clinging, trusting variety that
+with many men is still more alluring. But, whatever its character,
+it held him irresistibly under its spell. He moved backward to the
+outer door, his gaze still fastened on the woman’s face. She gave him
+her hand at parting. It was a warm, confident, lingering hand-clasp,
+attuned to the look in her eyes, to the modulation of her voice, to the
+general friendliness of her manner. It was not the art of coquetry. It
+was as much deeper and more subtle than that as the sea is deeper and
+more subtle than the shallow pool. A woman does not play the coquette
+while a sheet-covered thing that had been her husband lies ghastly
+still and gruesome in an adjoining room.
+
+But when she heard the humming of the starting car, and knew that her
+recent visitor was well out of sight and hearing, she resumed her seat,
+locked her hands above her head, and permitted her fine lips to curve
+in a smile that was neither gentle nor tender, nor wholly void of guile.
+
+The door from the kitchen was opened and a little old woman with a
+deeply wrinkled face thrust her head into the room.
+
+“Has everybody gone, Mary?” she asked.
+
+“Yes, mother.”
+
+“The first man that come was a preacher, wasn’t he?”
+
+“Yes, mother.”
+
+“Is he goin’ to hold the funeral?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“Why ain’t he?”
+
+“Because I don’t choose to have him.”
+
+“Was the next man that come a preacher, too?”
+
+“No, mother.”
+
+“Who was he?”
+
+“He was Richard Malleson’s――fool.”
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER IV
+
+                             THE NEW MOON
+
+
+When Barry Malleson left the house of Mrs. Bradley he left it with his
+head in a rose-cloud. The woman had fascinated him. Plainly and cheaply
+garbed as he had seen her, plain and cheap as her environment was,
+devoid, as she must be, of all social standing and of all the social
+graces, she had, nevertheless, fascinated him. Not that he permitted
+himself, under the circumstances, to think of making love to her; that
+would have been incongruous and inexcusable. But she had surrounded him
+with an atmosphere pervaded and enriched by her own personality, and
+from that atmosphere he could not, nor did he try to, escape.
+
+He did not overtake the Reverend Mr. Farrar on his way back to the
+city, but he did overtake Miss Chichester. She was walking along
+hurriedly in an unattractive suburb; she was alone, and dusk was
+falling, and the only decent thing for him to do was to pull up to the
+curb and ask her to ride into the city. She was not loath to accept
+his invitation. It pleased her, not alone because the acceptance of it
+would help her on her way, but because also it would give her, for a
+brief time, the exclusive companionship of Barry Malleson. There was no
+just reason why Miss Chichester should not desire the companionship of
+Barry, nor why she was not entitled to it. They had known each other
+from childhood. She was a member of his social set; she belonged to the
+church which he attended; she was not far from his own age; she was
+fairly prepossessing in appearance; and she was, so far as any romantic
+connection was concerned, entirely unattached. Moreover, she admired
+Barry. Perhaps Barry did not know it, but if he did not it was no fault
+of Miss Chichester’s. While maidenly modesty would not permit her to
+make open love to him, there are a thousand ways in which a young woman
+may manifest her preference for a man with the utmost propriety. Miss
+Chichester exercised all of them. But, so far, they had been without
+avail. Easily impressed as Barry was with feminine charms, he had not
+been impressed with those of Miss Chichester. Therefore he had been
+unresponsive. Not that he was entirely unaware of her preference for
+him――dull as he may have been, he could not have failed to understand
+something of that――but he simply ignored it. The strenuousness of his
+duties as vice-president of the Malleson Manufacturing Company left
+him no time to bestow on a love affair in which he was not especially
+interested. It was, therefore, with no great amount of enthusiasm that
+he asked Miss Chichester to ride with him this day. Besides, he had
+something to think about, and he would have preferred to be alone. But
+he handed her into his car with as much courtesy as though she had been
+his wife or his sweetheart.
+
+“You’re a long way from home, Jane?” he said, inquiringly.
+
+“Yes,” she replied, “I’ve been down on the south side to visit a poor
+family in which the guild is interested, and it got late before I
+realized it. I was hurrying along to get out of this section of the
+city before dark. It was so good of you to pick me up.”
+
+“It’s a pleasure to have the opportunity.”
+
+“Thank you! Now that I’ve told you where I’ve been, it’s only fair that
+you should tell me where you’ve been. Let’s exchange confidences.”
+
+“By all means! I’ve been up to Factory Hill to call on a widow.”
+
+“Mr. Pickwick was advised to beware of widows.”
+
+“Well, I’m not Mr. Pickwick, and, besides, this one isn’t dangerous.”
+
+“But is she fascinating, Barry? You know widows are usually described
+as fascinating.”
+
+“Fascinating! Well, now, why do you want to know?”
+
+“Oh, just to find out if you were making love to her.”
+
+“Making love to her! Good Lord! With her dead husband lying in the next
+room!”
+
+“Oh, Barry!”
+
+“If he’d been a live one I might have done it. She was handsome enough
+to provoke any man into it. But a dead one! Deliver me from dead
+husbands!”
+
+“That’s awfully interesting――and gruesome. Tell me about it, do!”
+
+So Barry told her about his errand to Mrs. Bradley, the purport of it
+and the result of it. They were rolling up the Main Street of the city.
+Miss Chichester was not so absorbed in Barry’s story that she failed to
+bow and smile to people on the pavement whom she knew. It was something
+to be seen at dusk, alone with Barry Malleson, in his car.
+
+“And are you going again to see her, and urge her to take the money?”
+inquired Miss Chichester when Barry had completed the account of his
+visit.
+
+“Sure! I’m going again.”
+
+“Let me go with you.”
+
+“Eh? You go with me? What for?”
+
+“Oh, just to see how such a remarkable woman acts and talks.”
+
+“I――I’m afraid I couldn’t do as much with her if you were present.”
+
+“I’d help you. I’d tell her it was her duty to take the money.”
+
+“She doesn’t like to be dictated to.”
+
+“Then I’d plead with her to take it.”
+
+“I――I think I could do better with her alone.”
+
+“Barry Malleson, I believe you’re on the verge of falling in love with
+that woman. That’s why you don’t want me to go.”
+
+“Preposterous!”
+
+“Then take me along.”
+
+“All right! You may go.”
+
+Barry knew that she would have her own way about it eventually, and
+that he might as well yield first as last.
+
+They had left Main Street and were bowling along up the avenue toward
+Fountain Park, the exclusive residence district in which they both
+lived. It was a very mild and beautiful September evening. The balmy
+air, the shadowy twilight, the moving car, the overhanging trees,
+were all suggestive of romance. And Miss Chichester was not averse to
+romance――under proper auspices.
+
+“I think,” she said, “that I caught a glimpse of the new moon just
+beyond the tower of Christ Church as we turned the corner. Did you see
+it, Barry?”
+
+“No.” Barry did not intend to be abrupt, but his mind was occupied just
+then by the vision of another woman’s face.
+
+“Don’t you want to look at it?” she asked. “It must be back of us
+somewhere. We’re far enough up the hill now to see it plainly.”
+
+“If I turn around I’ll have to stop the car.”
+
+“Then stop it. It’s worth while.”
+
+Barry stopped the car and started to turn his head.
+
+“Don’t look yet!” exclaimed Miss Chichester. “Over which shoulder must
+you see it in order to have good luck?”
+
+“Blessed if I know!”
+
+“Neither do I. I’ll tell you what we’ll do, Barry. You look at it over
+your right shoulder, and I’ll look at it over my left; then one of us
+two will have good luck anyway. It really doesn’t matter which one.”
+
+“All right!”
+
+Miss Chichester turned her head slowly to the left, while Barry turned
+his slowly to the right, and so they faced each other. Now, when a
+susceptible young man, and a like-minded young woman, sitting side
+by side in a car, in the gloaming, turn toward each other to look
+over their respective shoulders at a new moon, the tender light of
+which falls on their upturned faces, the situation becomes such that
+Cupid is more than likely to kick up his pudgy heels in glee. But
+on this occasion he never moved a muscle. It was Barry’s fault. He
+simply did not appreciate his privileges and opportunities. In the
+most matter-of-fact way he turned back, after gazing for a moment on
+the glimmering crescent, restored the power to his car, and as it shot
+ahead he quietly remarked:
+
+“I wonder if the moon is really made of green cheese.”
+
+“Oh, Barry!” said Miss Chichester. “You impossible man!”
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+The funeral of John Bradley was conducted in accordance with the will
+of his widow. There was no clergyman there. Nor did any one read
+the service for the burial of the dead as authorized by any Church.
+Religion had absolutely no part in this final chapter of the story of
+a workingman’s life and death. It was Sunday afternoon, the dead man’s
+fellow-workmen were free to come, and they gathered in large numbers
+to pay their tribute to his memory. But this was not the only purpose
+of their coming. They desired also by their presence to manifest
+their sympathy with his widow, to emphasize their disapproval of the
+treatment he had received from his corporate employer, and from the
+court that had sent him away empty handed from the only tribunal that
+was supposed to do justice between man and man. There were few toilers
+in the city who had not heard of the misfortunes of the man now dead,
+and few who did not believe him to have been a victim of corporate
+greed and of a gross miscarriage of justice.
+
+It was largely in demonstration of their belief that they came to
+attend the funeral. One by one they passed by his coffin, men of his
+own walk in life, and looked down on his dead face. They were sober,
+sympathetic and silent as they looked. Some of them, who had known
+him well in his lifetime, were moved to tears. Not that he had been
+a leader among them, nor that he had been a favorite with them, nor
+that they had respected or cared more for him than they had for a
+hundred others who worked nine hours a day, smoked an ill-smelling
+pipe, drank a few glasses of beer of an evening, and in general lived a
+monotonous, unambitious, unintellectual life. So that whatever emotion
+they manifested beyond that ordinarily caused by the mere fact of death
+was due wholly to the injustice of which they believed he had been a
+victim, and to the unusual manner of his taking off.
+
+Bradley’s widow, sitting near the head of the coffin with veil thrown
+back, watched them as they came and went. Whether or not others in the
+gathering marked the significance of the outpouring, she, at least,
+did not fail to do so. She sensed the spirit of the crowd. She saw in
+it a complete justification of her attitude toward the social forces
+that had kept her submissive and submerged, toward the power of wealth
+that had overridden her, toward the courts that had failed to give her
+justice.
+
+She was not overwhelmed by grief. Why should she be? Bradley had never
+been a man to be ardently loved by any woman, much less by a woman of
+her mental capacity and attainments. Why she had married him was still
+a mystery among those who knew her. With her education, her quality
+of mind, her exceptional beauty, she might have had in marriage the
+most promising man in her circle who worked in any capacity for wages;
+she might, indeed, have had one of still higher social and business
+grade. But she chose to marry John Bradley. The reasons that govern the
+matrimonial choice are often inscrutable, and women are protected, by
+the very fact of their sex, from ever being called upon to make them
+known. But if Mary Bradley had, at any time, repented her choice of
+a husband, no one had ever heard her express such a thought. She had
+remained absolutely faithful and helpful to him from the beginning to
+the end. And, in a crude, undemonstrative way, he had appreciated her
+and had been good to her. He had never abused her by word or deed, not
+even on those infrequent occasions when he had come home in his cups.
+He had turned over to her his weekly wages; he had never crossed her
+will; he had given her of his unimportant best. What more could she
+have asked? So, dispassionately, superficially perhaps, she sorrowed at
+his death. She felt no such pangs of grief as tore her heart when her
+girl baby died. That death had cut into the core of her being. But the
+passing of any soul that one has seen familiarly, illuminating a living
+body however dimly, cannot fail to arouse at least some semblance of
+sorrow in the normal human heart. And the demonstration made by her
+husband’s fellow-workers touched her also. Glancing out through the
+open doorway she saw that the street in front of her house was full of
+them. Stephen Lamar came to her and asked her permission to address
+the people from her porch. She gave her consent willingly. Lamar was
+the protagonist of the workingmen of the city. He was their leader in
+the social revolt which was eventually to free them from the chains
+of capitalism, and restore to them their natural rights. Somewhere,
+somehow, he had become learned in the things that pertained to the
+struggle between the classes, he was gifted with a crude eloquence that
+made his speeches popular, and whenever he spoke to them, the workers
+heard him gladly. Now, as they saw him come out onto the porch and
+stand, with bared head, facing them, a murmur of approval ran through
+the crowd. He addressed them as “Comrades in Toil.” No one remembered
+ever to have seen Lamar engaged in any kind of manual labor; but,
+doubtless, he was doing vastly more for the workingmen by the activity
+of his brain and the eloquence of his tongue than he could possibly
+do by the labor of his hands. Moreover, as he himself reminded them
+occasionally, he had at one time been a day-laborer in a mill. So he
+had a right to address them as “Comrades in Toil.”
+
+He said: “I have just stood by the coffin of our departed fellow-worker;
+and I have been permitted by his widow to express to you a thought that
+came to me while looking on his dead face. As he lies there to-day, so
+any one of you may lie to-morrow, crushed and killed by the power of
+capitalism and the tyranny of the courts. But, you know, in the eyes of
+the capitalist, toil is nothing if it is you who toil, suffering is
+nothing if it is you who suffer, death is nothing if it is you who die.
+Why should the workingman have only toil and suffering and death, while
+his employers may treat themselves to all the soft comforts and luxuries
+that money can buy, and burden their women with silks and laces and
+jewels beyond price? It’s wrong, my friends. How many diamonds did John
+Bradley’s wife ever have? How many silks? How many jewelled ornaments?
+Was she not as much entitled to them, let me ask you, as the pampered
+wives of millionaires? Would not her beauty set them off as well? Has
+not she, by her woman’s work, earned them a thousand times more than
+have the idle daughters of the rich? Did not John Bradley do his share
+of the world’s work as well and faithfully as any plutocrat that ever
+breathed? and was he not therefore entitled to a just reward for his
+labor――a fair share of the profits of the world’s business? And what did
+he receive? I’ll tell you what. He received the right to work nine hours
+a day at paltry wages, in order that his capitalist employer might roll
+in wealth. He received, before he had reached his prime, a crushed body
+and a darkened mind. Those responsible for his awful injuries refused
+him just compensation, and his faithful wife had the privilege of
+hearing the honorable court declare that the law provides no recompense
+for the poor. My friends, John Bradley lies there to-day, the victim of
+capitalist greed. Look on his dead face and ask yourselves how long
+you, who have the power to change this brutal system of exploitation of
+the toiler, will suffer yourselves to remain the passive instruments of
+your own undoing.”
+
+He paused, flung back a lock of his dark hair, and then, like a true
+Marc Antony, with deprecatory gesture and pleading tone he went on:
+“Pardon me, my friends! I did not intend, in this solemn hour, to rouse
+your passions or stir up hatred for your masters. But the contemplation
+of such a crime as has been committed here leads me into speech that,
+however unwise it may be, is the true expression of the feeling of my
+heart. I have but one word more to say. You have observed that there is
+no religious service here to-day. This is as it should be. It is not
+fitting that the body of our dead comrade should be committed to the
+earth under the forms and auspices of a Church controlled by capitalism
+and made pompous by wealth. Do not misunderstand me. With true piety
+I have no quarrel. Worship God if you want to; but not the God set
+up by the plutocrat in his costly temple into which the proletariat
+may hardly dare to set their feet. I tell you that when this social
+house of cards that the money kings have built up shall topple――as
+it will――to its fall, their soulless, bloodless, godless Church will
+join it in the wreck. That is all, my friends. I beg you to hold these
+things in your hearts as you fight for liberty, and some glorious
+morning you shall wake up free.”
+
+With the plaudits of his hearers ringing in his ears, he stepped back
+into the room where Mary Bradley sat.
+
+“I heard you,” she exclaimed, “and it was well said. I wish I could
+have said it myself.”
+
+Her commendation was sweeter to him than the crowd’s applause.
+
+“I’m glad you liked it,” he replied. “I had a chance to stir those
+fellows up, and I took it. I know John would have been willing, and I’m
+sure you were.”
+
+“I’m willing to have anything done that will tend to bring this
+capitalistic crowd to their knees.”
+
+“Good! And what are you willing to do yourself?”
+
+“Anything that I can.”
+
+“Good again! I have a little plan in mind by which you can be of vast
+help to us.”
+
+“I have my living to earn.”
+
+“You shall earn it. We will give you the opportunity. We need the
+assistance of a woman of your ability, in strong sympathy with the
+working classes.”
+
+“I am in sympathy; but, frankly, the strongest feeling in my mind at
+present is a desire for revenge.”
+
+He smiled and held out his hand to her. “You shall have it,” he said.
+“I promise you.”
+
+“Then you may depend on me.”
+
+“When shall I come and talk it over with you?”
+
+“Any day you choose.”
+
+“To-morrow?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+He released her hand and went back among the bearers.
+
+But he did not cease to look on her. Few women are beautiful when
+dressed in deep mourning. Nor would Mary Bradley have been beautiful
+had she not stood erect, with veil thrown back, with white teeth
+gleaming at her parted lips, with flashing dark eyes showing forth her
+woman’s determination. As it was, Lamar thought that he had never seen
+a picture more fascinating. And if his plan did not fail, she would
+work every day, side by side with him, in the interest of labor. If
+his deeper plan did not fail―――― Lamar was not so fastidious as Barry
+Malleson had been about shutting out from his mind and contemplation
+the idea of making love to a woman who was at that moment sitting on
+one side of the coffined body of her husband while he sat on the other.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+That afternoon, as the rector of Christ Church was returning from a
+service held by him in a mission chapel maintained by his church, he
+saw a funeral procession winding up a hill toward a suburban cemetery.
+The rest of his party had driven back to the city, but he had preferred
+to walk home alone. Of a man who stood at the curb he inquired whose
+funeral it was, and he was told that it was the funeral of John Bradley.
+
+“The man that got smashed up in the Malleson mill,” added his informant,
+“and they wouldn’t give him no damages.”
+
+“Yes, I know about the case.”
+
+“And his wife went into court with a suit and got throwed out.”
+
+“I was in court at the time.”
+
+“That so? You’re a preacher, ain’t you?” looking at the clerical cut of
+his garments.
+
+“Yes, I’m a preacher.”
+
+“Well, now, do you think that was a square deal?”
+
+“No, frankly, I do not.”
+
+The man, he was evidently a laborer, reached out a hard hand and
+grasped the hand of the rector.
+
+“You’re all right!” he exclaimed. “But you’re the first preacher I ever
+heard say as much as that. Most of ’em side the other way; or else they
+hedge, and won’t say nothin’. Where do you preach?”
+
+“At Christ Church.”
+
+“Oh, I’ve heard about you. I don’t go to church much myself, but I’m
+comin’ some Sunday to hear you preach. They say you ain’t a bit afraid
+to give the devil his due, so far as the rich is concerned.”
+
+“I try to preach a straight gospel, whether it affects the rich or the
+poor.”
+
+“That’s right. If more of ’em would do that the laborin’ men might git
+their rights some day, and a little religion besides.”
+
+“You think more of them would come to church?”
+
+“Sure they would. All they want is to have the Church take as much
+account of the poor as it does of the rich. I’m comin’ to hear you
+preach though, anyway; and I’ll bring some of the boys along. Good-bye!
+I’m goin’ up the hill now, with the funeral.”
+
+“I’ll go with you if I may.”
+
+“Glad to have you. Come on.”
+
+A sudden desire had seized the clergyman to see the end of this grim,
+industrial tragedy that had stirred his heart.
+
+The hearse was already half-way up the hill. It was followed by two
+coaches. Behind the coaches, in orderly procession, marched two hundred
+toilers; men who had been present at the Bradley house and had heard
+Lamar’s speech, and who, in the exercise of class consciousness, had
+been glad, on their day of rest, to march two miles to the cemetery to
+see the body of their fellow-laborer consigned to earth.
+
+Mr. Farrar and his newly-found friend fell in at the end of the
+procession, and followed it to the grave.
+
+When Mary Bradley descended from the coach to take her place near the
+head of the coffin, where it lay, supported by cross-sticks, over the
+open pit, her eyes fell upon the rector of Christ Church.
+
+One of those sudden impulses that overtake most women in times of
+stress, regardless of their walk in life, came upon her in that moment,
+and she acted upon it without further thought.
+
+She turned to one of the bearers, standing near, and requested him to
+ask the Reverend Mr. Farrar to come to her. The man looked at her in
+astonishment and did not move.
+
+“Did you hear me?” she said. “I want that preacher to come here.”
+
+This time there was no mistaking the meaning of her request. The man
+went at once upon his errand, and the clergyman responded promptly to
+the summons.
+
+She put aside her veil that he might see her face and know that she was
+in earnest. The bearers, waiting to perform their final service for
+John Bradley, looked at her in amazement. Others stared and wondered.
+Stephen Lamar, standing at the side of the grave, scowled in open
+disapproval.
+
+Was she, after all, to belie his eloquent defense of a churchless
+funeral, yield to unreasoning custom, and have a preacher commit her
+husband’s body to the earth? It was unbelievable.
+
+“I have changed my mind,” she said to the minister. “I wish you to
+speak at this burial, not as a preacher, but as a friend of John
+Bradley’s and mine. I don’t want anything said that’s religious; just
+something that’s comforting, that I can take home with me.”
+
+It was a strange request. How could a minister of the Church, with the
+inheritance of nineteen centuries upon him, stand by an open grave
+and commit the body of a human being to its shelter, and avoid all
+reference to that which alone had power to rob death of its sting and
+the grave of its victory? But the rector of Christ Church was quick in
+emergencies. He did not hesitate now, in either thought or deed. He
+directed the bearers to proceed with their task, and, as the coffin
+descended, he gathered up a handful of fresh earth from the mound at
+his side and scattered it into the open pit.
+
+“Earth to earth――ashes to ashes――dust to dust.”
+
+As the last word left his lips the coffin found its resting place on
+the bed of the grave. He held up his hand while the people around him
+stood awed and expectant. His voice was clear and resonant as he spoke:
+
+“In that day when the earth shall give up its dead, and when the
+spirits of those that were in prison shall be free, may we know that
+the unfettered soul of this our brother has attained the fulfilment of
+the joys that were denied him here, but which, through all the ages,
+have awaited his coming into that sweet and blessed country where labor
+and patience and a conscience void of offense shall have their just and
+reasonable reward. Amen!”
+
+He stepped aside, the lowering straps were pulled harshly up, and the
+first spadeful of earth fell, with that hollow and gruesome sound which
+is like none other, on the narrow house in which the body of John
+Bradley lay.
+
+Up to this moment, whatever her sorrow at her husband’s death may have
+been, no one had seen Mary Bradley weep. But she was weeping now.
+Something in the preacher’s words, or in his voice or manner, had
+touched the well-spring of her emotion, and had brought to her eyes
+tears which she made no effort to restrain.
+
+She reached out her hand to the clergyman in a grateful clasp, but
+she said nothing, and, before he could speak to her a single word of
+comfort or consolation, she entered her coach and was driven away.
+
+“It was a decent funeral,” commented one of the toilers, as he shuffled
+slowly down the path leading to the cemetery gate.
+
+“It was that,” responded the fellow-worker at his side. “A labor-leader
+at the house and a preacher at the grave. What more could the man ask?”
+
+“An’ not too much religion in it either. Religion don’t fit the workin’
+man; an’ this priest seemed to sense it an’ cut it out, more credit to
+him. They say he’s a devilish good preacher, too, an’ stands up great
+for labor. I’ve a mind I’ll go hear him next Sunday.”
+
+“I’ll go with ye, Thomas.”
+
+“Come along. We’ll go together.”
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER V
+
+                           AN UNUSUAL SERMON
+
+
+When the rector of Christ Church entered the chancel on the Sunday
+morning following the funeral of John Bradley, and looked out over the
+well-filled pews, he had no reason to be dissatisfied with the size
+of his congregation. Yet a full church was no unusual thing. For many
+Sundays now, people had been coming in ever greater numbers to hear him
+preach. They were attracted not alone by his ability, his earnestness
+and his spirituality; but also by the novelty of his message to society
+concerning the proper relation of the Church to the wage-workers and
+to the poor. It was by the attendance of the wage-working class that
+congregations had, for the most part, been swollen. There were few
+accessions from homes of wealth. To the rich and the exclusive the new
+interpretation of the Gospel of Christ had not proved to be especially
+attractive. They had not formally repudiated it. They had not absented
+themselves from the services in order that they might not hear it.
+They had not relinquished any proper effort to uphold and maintain the
+dignity and usefulness of the Church, notwithstanding the divergent
+views of the rector on certain matters of no little importance. So
+that, on this particular Sunday morning, there was no evidence of
+desertion on the part of the rich and the well-to-do. It was noted,
+however, that the pews in the rear of the church, those renting at low
+prices and therefore occupied by parishioners in moderate or humble
+circumstances, were the ones that were filled to overflowing. It was
+plainly evident that more than one laboring-man and working-woman
+had followed the example of the lookers-on at John Bradley’s funeral,
+and had come to hear the minister preach. The story of his address at
+the grave on the preceding Sunday had spread through the ranks of the
+toilers, and was responsible in no small degree for the size of the
+congregation to-day. People wanted to hear, in his own pulpit, the
+clergyman who could stand by the open grave of a common laborer, one
+not given either to religious beliefs or practices, and say things
+acceptable to all of the dead man’s friends, believers and disbelievers
+alike. So they had come, men in rusty attire, with stolid countenances
+and awkward bearing, women with bent shoulders and toil-hardened
+hands, and care-worn faces looking out from under the brims of hats
+and bonnets that had done Sunday service for unknown years. They did
+not respond to the prayers, nor join in the litany, nor kneel nor
+rise in accordance with the rubrics. But they were silent, attentive,
+respectful. They came not so much to worship as to listen.
+
+The text that morning was the question asked by those offended
+aristocrats of old:
+
+“Is not this the carpenter, the son of Mary?”
+
+The preacher called the attention of his hearers to the fact that the
+founder of the Christian religion, in His early manhood, had been a
+laborer. He had gone about, with hammer and axe, working for wages,
+as did the carpenter of to-day. He was born of humble parents, reared
+in adversity, hardened to toil. Why should not the wage-earner of the
+twentieth century listen to His gospel and follow in His footsteps? His
+message was especially to the humble and the poor. His condemnation
+was for the haughty and self-sufficient rich. He founded His Church
+on the brotherhood of man. Its very existence was declaratory of the
+solidarity of the human race. There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is
+neither bond nor free, there is neither male nor female, for ye are
+all one in Christ Jesus. No other Messiah, no other religion in the
+history of the world has made so strong, so sympathetic an appeal to
+the humble and toil-worn. How utterly inconsistent it was, therefore,
+for the workers of the world to permit any other class to monopolize
+the benefits and enjoyments of the Church, an institution founded by
+one of their own, and dedicated to the principle that we are all “heirs
+of God, and joint heirs with Christ; if so be that we suffer with Him.”
+
+But the preacher’s special appeal this morning was to the men and women
+of wealth and prominence in his church and parish, on behalf of their
+brothers and sisters on whom fortune had not so abundantly smiled. It
+was not an appeal for kindness and charity, or material help of any
+kind. It was an appeal for recognition.
+
+“I say to you,” he said, in concluding his sermon, “that until we
+professed followers of Christ utterly abandon the idea that the Church
+is an institution to be enjoyed, managed and patronized only by the
+cultured, the wealthy and the well-to-do, we shall not begin to
+understand the lesson taught us by the carpenter of Nazareth. Until we
+abandon the pleasing delusion that we have measured up to our full duty
+as members and supporters of the Church when we attend its services,
+recite its prayers, contribute to its charities, relieve its poor and
+visit its suffering; until we take a vastly broader view than that
+of our duty and privilege as Christian men and women, we are yet in
+our sins. Neither my work as minister nor your work as laymen will
+be satisfactory in the sight of God until these church portals and
+pew-doors stand equally wide open to the poor and the rich. If we would
+do as the Master would have us do, we must hold out welcoming hands to
+the toiler, no matter how humble the character of his toil, and we must
+say to him, not ‘Come and be my guest to-day in the House of God,’ but
+‘Come and be my fellow-worshiper, my comrade in Christ, my brother and
+my friend.’ I say to you frankly that I shall not be satisfied with my
+labors here until the workingman and the toiling-woman sit, side by
+side, in every pew, with the cultured and the rich; until they read
+together from the same prayer-book, recite together the same creed,
+kneel by each other at the same chancel-rail, and partake together of
+the Holy Communion in loving memory of Him who died for all men, ‘the
+carpenter, the son of Mary.’”
+
+Whether or not the humble folk who crowded the rear pews enjoyed the
+rest of the beautiful and solemn service, they were at least pleased
+with the sermon. On many a homely and rugged face, as these people
+passed out into the street, there was a smile of approval, and on many
+a lip that had never moved in prayer there was a comment of rejoicing
+that at least one preacher in the city understood the hearts of the
+poor and was not afraid to tell the rich, to their faces, what they
+ought to do.
+
+But the regular, influential parishioners of Christ Church, those to
+whom the appeal had been made, were, apparently, not so well pleased
+with the sermon. It was not noticed that any among them made immediate
+response by mingling in friendly intercourse with the humble strangers
+who had come to their house of worship.
+
+For the most part they waited in their pews until the unfamiliar
+faces had vanished beyond the outer doors. Then, by ones and twos
+and in little groups they moved slowly down the aisles. The stamp of
+unimpeachable respectability was on them all. They were well-mannered
+and well-dressed.
+
+The majority of the men wore black coats and gray trousers and carried
+silk hats and canes in their hands, while the women were handsomely and
+appropriately gowned. The principal topic of conversation among them
+was, of course, the rector’s sermon; and, regrettable as it may seem,
+there were few who were heard to speak of it approvingly. Why should
+they approve of it? These people and their ancestors had worshiped
+in Christ Church through more than two generations. Their wealth and
+social standing had given to the church a position in the diocese
+second to none. Their polished manners and timely courtesies and
+gracious hospitality had attracted to the church many other people of
+wealth and prominence who, in their turn, had become regular attendants
+and liberal supporters. By their concern for the welfare of the poor
+they had made the name of Christ Church a synonym for well-organized
+and widely distributed Christian charity. Surely it hardly lay in the
+mouth of this young preacher, who had been scarcely two years in their
+pulpit, to announce to them that, notwithstanding all this, they were
+yet in their sins. It is no wonder that a mild spirit of resentment had
+been roused within them, or that it found expression as they talked
+with each other on their way to the street. It was noticeable that the
+men, as a rule, were not outspoken in their disapproval of the sermon.
+Business and professional men are apt to be cautious in the matter of a
+hasty expression of opinion. Experience has taught them the policy of
+being conservative. But the women were under no similar restraint. They
+did not hesitate to say what was in their minds. And their minds were,
+apparently, made up. Of course Mr. Farrar was an eloquent preacher
+and, personally, a most attractive man, and Mrs. Farrar was perfectly
+lovely; but really, the sermons they had been having of late were
+unpardonable, and the one of to-day had simply capped the climax. Such
+things were so unjust to the people who were doing the work of the
+Church and bearing its financial burdens; so subversive of all accepted
+theories and customs; so well calculated to stir up discontent and
+jealousy, if not open antagonism, in the breasts of the envious and
+ignorant. One woman, prominent in the church, pompous and matronly,
+declared that she would not again humiliate herself by coming to
+listen to such heterodox preaching. She considered such sermons as the
+one of to-day to be positively irreligious, and destructive of the
+first principles of Christianity.
+
+Following her down the aisle came Ruth Tracy and her mother, and it was
+to them that this opinion had been expressed. Ruth’s face flushed and
+she made no reply; but Mrs. Tracy nodded her head in approval and said,
+“Yes, indeed!” Mr. Tracy, the husband and father, was not present. He
+went to church only on rare occasions. His week-days were strenuous,
+and his Sundays were needed for rest and recreation. He was the senior
+partner in the law firm of Tracy, Black and Westgate, of which firm
+Ruth’s fiancé was the junior member.
+
+Before Mrs. Tracy and her daughter reached the curb where their car was
+waiting, Westgate joined them.
+
+“And what did you think of the sermon?” asked the elder woman, after
+the morning greetings had been exchanged.
+
+“Oh, I know what Philip thought of it,” interrupted Ruth. “He thought
+it was an unwarranted attack on the supporters of the church, and a sop
+to socialism. Didn’t you, Philip?”
+
+The young man laughed and colored a little as he replied:
+
+“While I wouldn’t want to be quoted in just that way, you have gauged
+my mind with reasonable accuracy.”
+
+“I knew it,” responded the girl. “And now I’ll tell you what I think. I
+think it was a brave and conscientious sermon, and fully warranted by
+existing conditions.”
+
+She stood there, handsomely and good-naturedly defiant, attractive in
+the eyes of her lover, even in her opposition to him.
+
+“It was brave enough,” he responded; “and there’s no doubt about the
+man’s conscientiousness; but I believe he’s mistaken.”
+
+At that moment Barry and Miss Chichester came up.
+
+“Are you talking about the sermon?” asked Miss Chichester. “Barry and I
+are agreed that it was simply impossible, aren’t we, Barry?”
+
+“Preposterous!” asserted Barry. “Why, don’t you know, the thing would
+never work out. We couldn’t really have those people in our pews with
+us. Could we, Mrs. Tracy?”
+
+“I’m pretty sure that I couldn’t have them in mine,” Mrs. Tracy replied.
+
+“Why, just think of it!” added Barry. “For instance, the vice-president
+of the Malleson Manufacturing Company reading the responses out of the
+same prayer-book with a common day-laborer in his employ. How could the
+proper attitude be preserved on week days between the employer and the
+employee? Why, Phil, old man, the whole thing is absurd!”
+
+“You might stay away from church, Barry,” suggested Ruth.
+
+“Don’t put that idea into his head,” said Westgate. “Barry needs all
+the religion he can possibly absorb.”
+
+Then Mrs. Tracy came to the rescue of the vice-president.
+
+“Barry’s not so far wrong,” she declared. “It’s ridiculous to think of
+having these people in our pews. Just imagine Lucy Breen sitting with
+me. You all know poor Lucy, with her green gown and her red hat with
+the enormous white feather in it. Why, I should go into hysterics.
+Really I should.”
+
+“And,” laughed Ruth, “if Red-nosed Mike the burglar should sit with you
+he’d steal your Sunday dollar before ever the alms-basin came around.”
+
+“Now, I don’t think it’s fair,” said Miss Chichester, “to make fun of
+Barry and Mrs. Tracy that way. It’s really a serious matter. Don’t you
+think so, Phil?”
+
+“Very!” responded Phil gravely.
+
+“And,” continued Mrs. Tracy, “he said we should commune together.
+Now, just think of it! There’s our gardener, Jim, you know, who chews
+tobacco constantly. Imagine having him next you at communion, and
+having him drink first out of the cup! Heavens!”
+
+She shuddered and drew her skirts closer about her ample figure, lest
+haply some unclean member of the proletariat, passing by, should brush
+advertently against them.
+
+“I think,” said Miss Chichester, “that some one ought to speak to Mr.
+Farrar. I don’t believe he really knows how objectionable his theories
+are.”
+
+“Good idea!” exclaimed Barry. “I’ll speak to him myself. He’ll listen
+to me. The thing has got to be stopped before some of those people
+actually intrude themselves into our pews. There isn’t one of them――――”
+Barry stopped suddenly. A vision of the fascinating face and trim
+figure of the woman of Factory Hill had flashed into his mind.
+
+“What is it, Barry?” inquired Miss Chichester in apparent alarm.
+
+“I was just thinking,” replied Barry, hesitatingly, “that there might
+be exceptions――exceptions, you know.”
+
+“Mrs. Bradley, for instance?” asked Miss Chichester.
+
+“Why,” responded Barry, “I don’t think Mrs. Bradley would be what you
+might call really objectionable.”
+
+“And who is Mrs. Bradley?” inquired Mrs. Tracy.
+
+“Oh,” replied Westgate, “she’s one of Barry’s discoveries in humble
+life.”
+
+“Is she the one who lost the lawsuit?” inquired Ruth.
+
+“The very one,” answered Westgate. “I shall not soon forget how you
+took me to task for my part in that case.”
+
+“I did think,” responded Ruth, “that it was a shame to send her out of
+court empty-handed. And I think so still, begging Barry’s pardon for
+expressing myself so forcibly in his presence.”
+
+“You can’t hurt my feelings, Ruth,” exclaimed Barry. “Phil did his
+duty. And I must say that the woman behaved very decently about it
+afterward.”
+
+“So decently,” added Westgate, “that Barry went up the other day to
+make her a gift. Tell the ladies about that adventure, Barry.”
+
+“Oh, I know all about it,” exclaimed Miss Chichester. “Barry told me
+about it the same evening.”
+
+“But we don’t know,” said Ruth. “What happened, Barry?”
+
+“Why,” replied Barry, “I went up, as Phil says, to make her a gift of
+a little money, four hundred dollars, to be exact. We usually make a
+gift to widows of our employees. And, would you believe me, the woman
+declined to accept it.”
+
+“Remarkable!” exclaimed Mrs. Tracy.
+
+“It’s true,” continued Barry. “But I’m going up again before long to
+try to persuade her to change her mind. I――I really think she needs the
+money.”
+
+“And Barry’s going to take me with him. Aren’t you, Barry?” broke in
+Miss Chichester.
+
+“Why, I suppose so,” replied Barry, “if you still want to go.”
+
+“Indeed, I want to go.”
+
+Then Mrs. Tracy inquired: “Is she the woman who is so irreligious? has
+no use for the Church? and wouldn’t have a preacher at her husband’s
+funeral?”
+
+“She’s the one,” replied Westgate.
+
+“Then I think,” said Mrs. Tracy, turning to Barry, “that you might find
+better use for your money. Why don’t you give it to religious people
+who are in want; people of our own church?”
+
+“Why,” responded Barry, “I think there’s a fair chance of getting her
+into the church. I spoke to Farrar about her and he’s going to see what
+he can do with her in a religious way.”
+
+“It seems to me, Barry,” said Ruth mischievously, “that you’re very
+much interested in the handsome Mrs. Bradley.”
+
+This time Miss Chichester responded for Barry. “He is, Ruth; but purely
+in a sociological way. He hasn’t the faintest idea of becoming unduly
+impressed by her beauty. Have you, Barry?”
+
+“She’s a deucedly handsome woman,” replied Barry.
+
+“Handsome or not,” said Mrs. Tracy, “I don’t think such persons should
+be encouraged and made much of. Mr. Farrar is certainly making a very
+serious mistake when he caters to the lower classes. Why, if he had his
+way, there’d be no exclusiveness in the church at all.”
+
+“Indeed there wouldn’t,” replied Ruth heartily.
+
+“Right you both are!” exclaimed Barry. “That is as――as a rule. Every
+rule has its exceptions, you know.”
+
+“Well,” added Mrs. Tracy, moving toward her car, “don’t let’s talk
+about it any more. It doesn’t leave a good taste in the mouth. You’ll
+ride up with us, won’t you, Philip, and have luncheon? No? Then give my
+love to your mother and tell her I’m coming over to see her to-morrow
+afternoon. Come, Ruth!”
+
+She entered her car, assisted by Westgate, but her daughter hesitated.
+
+“I’ve a mind,” she said, “to walk up the hill with Philip; it’s such a
+beautiful day. I’ll be home long before luncheon time, mother.”
+
+“A very wise suggestion,” remarked Westgate, “and one which I shall be
+delighted to adopt.”
+
+“What a happy thought!” exclaimed Miss Chichester. “We’ll do that too,
+won’t we, Barry?”
+
+“Why,” said Barry, “I thought of going down-town for a little while
+before luncheon. I want to slip into the office and look at something.”
+
+“Oh, Barry! And it’s such a beautiful day!”
+
+Miss Chichester looked up at him pleadingly.
+
+“I know, but this is really a matter I ought to attend to.”
+
+“You can go down early to-morrow morning and attend to it. I shall
+be so disappointed if you don’t walk up with me. And stop and have
+luncheon with us. Do! Father is so fond of discussing politics with
+you.”
+
+“Thank you, Jane. But it’s out of the question for me to stop to
+luncheon. It really is.”
+
+“Then walk up with me, anyway.”
+
+“All right! I’ll do that.”
+
+Mrs. Tracy was already moving homeward in her luxuriously appointed
+car, and Ruth and her lover had started slowly up the walk. His eyes
+were alight and his cheeks aglow with pleasant anticipation. To walk
+a mile with Ruth Tracy through the invigorating air of a beautiful
+September noonday was a privilege that any man might covet, much more
+a man in whose heart she filled so large and so queenly a place as she
+did in Philip Westgate’s.
+
+But no sooner were they on their way than recurrence was had to the
+subject of the morning sermon.
+
+“I like Mr. Farrar,” said Westgate. “I believe he intends to say and
+do the right thing. But he has permitted himself, by reason of his
+sympathy with toiling humanity, to be led off into strange paths.”
+
+“I like him too,” responded Ruth. “And I can’t help feeling that he’s
+on the right track. I don’t believe there’s any other way than the one
+he suggests to evangelize the working people. Just think what he’s
+done already. Did you ever see more persons of all kinds coming to the
+services at Christ Church than he is drawing there now?”
+
+“No; but big congregations do not necessarily make the Church
+prosperous, nor advance the cause of religion. These people come
+because it pleases them to hear attacks made on the rich, and
+commendation given to the poor. It is simply an expression of class
+consciousness with them. They have no religious motive in coming.”
+
+“But how else are you going to get them at all under the influence of
+the Church? Here I’ve been doing guild work for years. I’ve distributed
+I don’t know how many bushels of food and loads of outgrown garments to
+the poor; and how many people do you suppose I’ve been able to bring
+into the Church by doing it? Just four. I counted them up yesterday.
+I tell you, Phil, these people will not be bribed into accepting
+religion. What they want, as Mr. Farrar explained, is recognition, not
+charity. When they get that we’ll get them into the Church. The Church
+needs new life, and Mr. Farrar has chosen the only way to supply it.”
+
+“I’m afraid he’s putting into it more discord than life. I can’t
+believe that the pulpit is the place from which to propound doctrines
+of social and political economy. And there are many in Christ Church
+that are not only like-minded with me, but who resent the rector’s
+attitude far more than I do.”
+
+“That’s because you’re all of you behind the times. Because you’re over
+conservative, just as mother is; just as all these people are who have
+more than enough for themselves, and can’t begin to appreciate the
+desires and struggles and needs of the poor.”
+
+Westgate’s patience was ebbing. He felt that the girl was taking an
+entirely unreasonable attitude.
+
+“Ruth,” he said, “you are losing your head over this thing. You are
+being carried away by your sympathies and by this man’s plausible
+appeal. You don’t detect the fallacies in his position. You are not
+exercising your judgment.”
+
+“Oh,” she replied, “I know my own mind, and I’ve thought it all out,
+and I’ve read, and I’ve investigated on my own account, and I’ve come
+to the conclusion that if all these dreadful social ills, and this
+degrading and unremitting toil, and this hopeless poverty are ever to
+be done away with, the Church must be the leader in the movement to
+abolish them. There’s no earthly power or influence that can accomplish
+the task unaided by the power and influence of the Church. Oh, I know
+that Mr. Farrar is going about the work in the right way, and I know
+that in the end his work will produce splendid results.”
+
+She paused, half out of breath, wondering a little at her own temerity,
+and, with a look partly of defiance, partly of anxiety, she glanced
+up into her lover’s face. He was plainly distressed. He felt that
+their views were so utterly divergent that the discussion could not be
+continued without endangering the harmony that should prevail between
+them. Yet it was hard to hold his peace and permit this girl with whom
+he was so profoundly in love, whose future was to be so irrevocably
+bound up in his, to enter on a course of which both his conscience and
+his judgment so heartily disapproved.
+
+“I’m sorry,” he said after a moment’s pause, “more sorry than I can
+tell you, that we don’t agree in this matter. Unless Mr. Farrar adopts
+a complete change of policy, I can see serious trouble ahead. And when
+that trouble comes I should like to have you in harmony with me.”
+
+“And I should like to be in harmony with you, Philip; I should like
+it dearly; but I can’t afford to stifle my conscience and ignore my
+reason――not even for you.”
+
+It was plain that her mind was made up, and that neither argument,
+appeal nor entreaty would move her from the path on which she had set
+out.
+
+“Well,” said Westgate, “don’t let’s talk about it any more now. The
+crisis hasn’t come yet. Maybe it won’t come. I hope to heaven it
+won’t! At any rate there’s no use to-day in our borrowing trouble for
+to-morrow.”
+
+They walked on in the mild September sunlight, up the hill, by the
+pleasant streets that bordered on Fountain Park, past homes of ease
+and luxury, until Ruth’s own home was reached. But a reserve had fallen
+on them. The first shadow had drifted across their common path and lay
+impalpably about them. Could it be possible that so slight a shadow as
+this, deepening and darkening, would eventually so blind their eyes
+that, unseen each by the other, they would go stumbling and alone,
+by cruelly divergent paths, toward unknown goals as far apart as the
+antipodes of eternity?
+
+This was the thought and fear that hugged Westgate’s mind as he
+strolled back down the hill that day to his mother’s home in the city.
+And, as he walked, the glory of the day was obscured. Gray clouds
+dragged their unwelcome bulk across the sun, a chill and hostile wind
+set the shadowed leaves of the trees to trembling and sighing, and the
+gloom that forebodes the coming storm settled down upon the earth.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER VI
+
+                          THE VESTRY OBJECTS
+
+
+The vestry of Christ Church was a conservative body. Not
+ultra-conservative, but reasonably so; the conservatism that might be
+expected of successful business men. Nor was it an overly religious
+body. Some of its members were not, never had been, and never
+expected to be communicants of the Church. But, as a whole, it was
+unquestionably and sincerely devoted to the welfare of Christ Church.
+Possibly the material welfare of the church loomed larger in the eyes
+of these gentlemen than did its spiritual interests. Be that as it may,
+they left nothing undone which, in their judgment, it was desirable
+to do to promote the prosperity of the church of which they were the
+governing body. They had this purpose in mind when they called the
+Reverend Robert Bruce Farrar to be their rector. They felt that they
+were acting with wisdom and foresight. He was certainly a rising young
+man. He was idolized by the people to whom he had ministered, and he
+came with a splendid recommendation from the bishop of his diocese. He
+was understood to be fairly liberal in his social views, but he had,
+as yet, developed no dangerous tendencies; and it was thought that, in
+his new environment, there could be no possibility of such development.
+Since the day of his installation, however, the minds of many of the
+members of the vestry had undergone a gradual change concerning him.
+They no longer felt that he was quite safe. And to that feeling the
+sermons that he had been preaching of late had given a decided impetus.
+It is true that, up to this time, there had been no serious or open
+differences between the rector and his vestry. But it was plainly
+apparent, both to him and to them, that the day was fast approaching
+when such differences would become acutely developed unless either
+he changed his course or they changed their opinions. Certain of the
+vestrymen, in their consultations with each other, on the street, at
+the club, or in their homes, had deprecated, in rather strong language,
+the social theories of the rector, and had suggested that it was about
+time to call a halt. But nothing had been done. Then came the sermon
+of Sunday, with its strange and radical plea for social equality in
+the church, and what had been merely a thought in the minds, or a
+suggestion on the tongues, of certain members of the vestry, suddenly
+developed into a desire for action. The man had taken the bit in his
+teeth and was trying to run away with them. It was necessary that
+something should be done.
+
+The regular monthly meeting of the vestry was to be held on the Friday
+evening following the Sunday on which the objectionable sermon had
+been preached, and it was agreed, among those who protested, that this
+would be an opportune time to voice their protest, and express their
+determination, and reach, if possible, some kind of an understanding as
+to the future. Nor was the Reverend Mr. Farrar so dull of comprehension
+that he failed to anticipate that there might be expressions of opinion
+at the meeting adverse to his views and policy. Indeed, he set out
+deliberately to invite such expressions of opinion, if there were
+any members of the vestry who disagreed with him. He felt that there
+must be no longer any evasion or paltering on either side; that, if
+necessary, armed neutrality must give way to active warfare; that a
+crisis had been reached beyond which Christ Church would advance in
+accordance with her God-given privilege, or else recede, disintegrate,
+and be lost. The stage was surely set for dramatic developments.
+
+The meeting was to be held, as usual, in the rector’s study, after the
+mid-week evening service. Judge Bosworth, the senior warden, was the
+first to arrive. He was followed closely by Westgate. While they were
+awaiting the coming of the others there was some casual conversation on
+different topics, but it was marked by an air of restraint of which all
+three men were aware. Then, in rapid succession, the remaining members
+of the vestry came in――all but old Mr. Ray, who was ill and unable to
+leave his house.
+
+They knelt with due devotion while brief prayers were read, and then
+the usual order of business was taken up. The treasurer’s report was
+made and commented on, and other matters of more or less importance to
+the parish were considered and disposed of.
+
+When the order of “new business” was reached, the rector said:
+
+“There is a matter, gentlemen, on which I desire to have your judgment,
+and, if possible, your favorable action. You have doubtless observed
+the increased attendance on our services by people of the laboring
+class. I am convinced that it is among these people, during the next
+few years, that our work must largely be done. We must break down the
+indifference, the prejudice, the open antagonism which so many of them
+manifest, not wholly without reason, toward the Church. If we extend
+to them a fitting welcome, and if we properly provide for them, I
+have no doubt they will continue to come to us in increasingly large
+numbers, to their own spiritual benefit, and to the great strengthening
+of the Church. It is plain that we cannot accommodate them under our
+present system by which we rent pews for the exclusive use of our
+several families. It is my recommendation, therefore, and my hearty
+desire, that the renting system shall be abolished, and that all pews
+shall be open freely to all worshipers. It is for you to act on the
+recommendation.”
+
+For a moment no one spoke. The proposition was too startling,
+too revolutionary, to be replied to at once. The parishioners of
+Christ Church had occupied exclusive pews for two generations and
+more. They had come to consider them as much their private property
+as were their own dining-rooms, or their front porches. How could
+this vestry shatter, in a night, the traditions of years? It was a
+foregone conclusion that the rector’s recommendation would meet with
+disapproval――and it did. Mr. Hughes, capitalist, was the first to
+express his dissent.
+
+“I, for one,” he said, “am opposed to it. It would deprive us of a
+fixed income. It would revolutionize the policy and the customs of the
+church in this respect. I do not believe the bulk of our pewholders
+would ever consent to it. I, myself, would be entirely unwilling to
+relinquish my right to the exclusive use of a pew. I am ready to pay
+for one, and I do pay for it, and when I pay for it I propose to
+reserve the right to say who shall sit in it.”
+
+“I appreciate your point of view, Mr. Hughes,” replied the rector; “but
+I feel that we must look at the matter from a broader standpoint. Do
+we want these people to worship with us or do we not? If we do, it is
+plain that we must provide for them. They, themselves, feel that it is
+something of an intrusion for them to occupy pews set apart for the
+exclusive use of others. Many of them cannot afford even to pay rentals
+for sittings; and, if they could, we have not the vacant sittings for
+them. What shall we do with them? Shall we give them to understand
+that they are unwelcome, or shall we admit them to the privileges of
+Christ Church on an equal footing with ourselves? The problem is yours,
+gentlemen.”
+
+“We might,” suggested Rapalje, engaged in real estate and insurance,
+“provide a certain section of the church in the rear to accommodate
+them, moving our own people farther to the front, and doubling up in
+the occupancy of pews, if necessary.”
+
+“That, in my judgment,” replied the rector, “would only be an affront
+to them. They would not accept discrimination of that kind. It would be
+equivalent to saying to them that the Church reserves the ‘chief seats’
+for the rich; that the rear pews are good enough for the poor. If we
+say that to them they will leave us, without doubt. It is because of
+such an attitude on our part that the poor have been lost to us for so
+many years.”
+
+Then Colonel Boston, president of the S. E. & W. Railroad, his patience
+nearly exhausted, spoke up:
+
+“Well, I, for one, am willing to lose them. I don’t see why we should
+be called upon to house the rabble from Factory Hill. They have
+churches nearer their homes, run by their own kind, with preachers of
+their own sort. Let them go there. I don’t propose, when I come to
+church, to hunt for a vacant seat somewhere, and push myself into it;
+and I’m utterly opposed to having my wife and daughter crowded and
+elbowed in their pew by all kinds of people. I simply won’t stand for
+it.”
+
+The rector was still calm and deliberate, but tremendously in earnest,
+as he replied:
+
+“You can close the doors of your church in the faces of God’s poor
+if you wish, gentlemen. They will not come if they find they’re not
+wanted; you can rest assured of that. But the moment you refuse to
+welcome them, the moment you make it openly manifest that ours is a
+church exclusively for the rich and the well-to-do, that moment you
+deprive the Church of its life and soul, you separate it wholly from
+Jesus Christ, whose message and whose mission was primarily to the
+humble and the poor.”
+
+Judge Bosworth sought to pour oil on the waters which were becoming
+dangerously troubled.
+
+“Would not the proper solution of this whole question,” he asked, “be
+the founding and support of a mission chapel for these people in their
+own neighborhood? We have such a chapel on the east side, why not
+establish one on Factory Hill? I would be glad to contribute for such a
+purpose.”
+
+“It would not solve the difficulty, Judge,” responded the rector.
+“These people do not want missions and chapels when they are within
+walking distance of the church itself. The thing implies exactly the
+same sort of discrimination as would be implied by herding them in
+rear pews. They don’t want to be accommodated, they don’t want to be
+patronized, they want to be recognized as having equal rights with us
+in the House of God. And until we are willing to accord to them that
+recognition we may as well let them alone, for we shall never be able
+to hold them.”
+
+Again the railroad magnate broke in. His patience, which was already
+running low when he first spoke, appeared now to be entirely exhausted.
+
+“Then I say let them alone!” he exclaimed. “I’m sick and tired of this
+everlasting kow-towing to a class of people who are never satisfied
+with what’s being done for them.”
+
+To this last explosion the rector paid no heed. He looked around over
+the persons assembled in the room. “I would like to hear,” he said,
+“from other gentlemen of the vestry. If most of you are opposed to
+the proposition, I will not press it at this time; but I will begin
+a campaign of education among the people of the parish, so that when
+it again comes before you, it will come backed by the force of public
+opinion. What is your thought in the matter, Mr. Cochran?”
+
+“I quite agree with Mr. Hughes and Colonel Boston,” replied Mr. Cochran.
+“I think it would be extremely unwise to abolish our system of rentals.”
+
+“And what is your opinion, Mr. Emberly?”
+
+“I am heartily in favor of adopting the suggestion of the rector,” was
+Emberly’s answer.
+
+Nobody was surprised at Emberly. He always sided with the rector. But
+his opinion carried no great weight. He contributed sparsely, from a
+lean purse, for the support of the Church. How could he be expected to
+have a leading voice in her councils?
+
+Probably Mr. Hazzard, junior warden, and superintendent of the
+Sunday-school, would also have agreed with the rector if his opinion
+had been asked; but, before he could be interrogated, Westgate
+interrupted.
+
+“It seems to me,” he said, “to be quite futile to discuss this question
+at this time. Our pews are rented until Easter Monday of next year,
+and it is now only September. We cannot abrogate the contracts already
+made. I suggest, therefore, that we postpone discussion of the matter
+until some future meeting. In the meantime, the parish as a whole will
+have opportunity to consider it, and we can take it up later if it
+should be deemed advisable to do so.”
+
+“An excellent suggestion!” exclaimed Mr. Hughes.
+
+“I am quite willing to yield to Mr. Westgate’s judgment,” said the
+rector.
+
+“But,” added Mr. Hughes, “there is another matter closely related to
+the one just under discussion, about which I desire to speak. I mean
+no disrespect, and I have no ill-will toward Mr. Farrar. But there has
+been much criticism in the parish concerning the sermons he has been
+preaching to us of late, especially the one of last Sunday morning. It
+is needless for me to specify in what manner it was objectionable. We
+feel that a continuance of such sermons will seriously affect, if not
+entirely disrupt, the church. It has occurred to me, therefore, that
+if the vestry, as a body, should inform the rector of the feeling in
+the parish, and request him to discontinue the advocacy of his favorite
+sociological doctrines from the pulpit, he would probably heed the
+request, and thus save the church from possible disaster.”
+
+The rector looked into the eyes of his critic without flinching.
+Moreover, there was in his own eyes a light that might or might not
+have been a signal of contempt and defiance.
+
+“Do you really mean that, Mr. Hughes?” he asked.
+
+“I am very much in earnest,” was the reply. “And I believe I express
+the feeling of a majority of the members of the vestry. How is it,
+gentlemen? Am I right?”
+
+He looked around on the men in the room, and all save two of them
+nodded their heads or spoke in approval. The rector noted their
+attitude, but neither in his voice nor manner did he display surprise,
+disappointment or resentment.
+
+“Then let me tell you,” he said quietly, “that any backward movement
+on my part is entirely out of the question. I feel that I am preaching
+Christ’s gospel, and that His message is to the poor as well as to the
+rich. To-day, so far as material things are concerned, the poor are
+poor because they are not receiving their just share of the wealth
+which they produce. Some day all this will be changed. There will be
+economic justice, and with economic justice will come social equality.
+There will be no rich, no poor, no aristocracy, no proletariat. I shall
+welcome that day. But, so far as things spiritual are concerned, that
+day dawned when Jesus Christ was born. In His religion there is no
+room for distinction between the classes. The Church which He founded,
+and its house of worship, should be open, freely and always, without
+distinction of any kind, to ‘all sorts and conditions of men.’”
+
+“Good!” exclaimed Emberly.
+
+The rector paid no heed to the interruption, but went on:
+
+“And so long as I am rector of Christ Church I shall endeavor to break
+down, and to keep down within it, all distinctions between rich and
+poor, and between class and class. That is why I have been urging you
+gentlemen of wealth to blot out social differences in the House of God.
+I want the humblest parishioner to feel that he has an equal right with
+any of us to the use and benefit and enjoyment of Christ Church. It is
+only because you stand aloof and will not welcome him on equal terms
+that he does not feel so now. I hope that, eventually, your attitude
+will be changed; and, in that hope, I shall keep on inviting the poor
+to come to us, and I shall continue to preach the abolition of social
+distinctions in the Church.”
+
+It is not probable that the Reverend Mr. Farrar had any expectation
+of bringing the members of the vestry, offhand, to the acceptance of
+his views. If he had, it needed only a glance at their faces to show
+him that his words had had no convincing effect. Of course Emberly and
+Hazzard, both of whom had been with him from the beginning, showed
+marked signs of approval; but as to the others, their opposition to his
+theories appeared only to have become accentuated by his speech.
+
+“That sounds to me,” said the capitalist, “very much like socialism.
+I hope we are not going to have that fallacious and sinister doctrine
+preached to us, also, from the pulpit of Christ Church. Do I understand,
+Mr. Farrar, that you are a socialist?”
+
+“A Christian socialist, yes,” was the answer. “So far as socialism
+is in accord with the articles of our religion, with the canons of
+our Church, and with the message of Jesus Christ, I am a socialist. I
+believe, gentlemen, that socialism is coming, and that eventually it
+will be the policy of the state. It is foolish to blind our eyes to it.
+As it exists to-day there is much in its theory and propaganda that is
+anti-Christian. Some of its leaders are distinctly irreligious. Some
+of them are bitterly antagonistic to the Church. If such men as these
+are permitted to dominate the socialism of the future, religion and
+Christian morals will be in jeopardy. There is only one power on earth
+that can rescue society from such an evil, and that is the power of the
+Church. If the Church will but recognize socialism for the good that
+is in it; help to conserve its vital principles and to rob it of its
+evil excrescences, it will, in my judgment, have performed a mighty
+service for humanity. If, then, the Church will go still farther, and
+help it on, thus reformed, to political and economic victory, we shall
+carry out the principles for which Christ contended. I shall make it
+my business, gentlemen, both in the pulpit and out of it, to urge that
+policy upon the Church, and upon all Christian people. I believe, Mr.
+Hughes, that I have answered your question.”
+
+He had answered it, indeed. But his answer was anything but comforting
+or satisfying to the greater part of the gentlemen who sat around him.
+Colonel Boston was especially indignant.
+
+“Socialism,” he declared, growing red in the face, “is a pernicious
+doctrine; and it doesn’t help it any to tack the word Christian to
+it. There always have been class distinctions in the world, and there
+always will be. It’s human nature. There always have been men of brains
+and energy and principle who have outraced and outranked their fellows,
+and there always will be. You can no more reduce living men to a dead
+level of equality in everything, or in anything, than you can make
+every blade of grass to grow exactly like every other blade. The thing
+is simply abhorrent to nature. I’m opposed to socialism in any form,
+under any name. And, so far as I have any influence, it shall not be
+preached from the pulpit of Christ Church.”
+
+Before the rector could reply, or any one else could break into the
+discussion, Mr. Claybank, a retired merchant, rose to his feet and drew
+a folded paper from his pocket.
+
+“Apropos of Colonel Boston’s remarks,” he said, “and in line with the
+thought so well expressed by Mr. Hughes in opening the discussion,
+and after consultation with one or two of my fellow-vestrymen, I have
+prepared a resolution which I desire to offer.”
+
+He adjusted his eye-glasses with nervous haste, unfolded the paper
+with trembling fingers, cleared his throat and began to read.
+
+“RESOLVED that the vestry of Christ Church view with disapproval
+and alarm the tendency toward socialism and its dangerous theories
+as manifested in the recent sermons of our rector, the Reverend Mr.
+Farrar. We regard those theories as harmful to religion and destructive
+to society; and it is our request that our rector discontinue the
+preaching of such sermons, and confine himself hereafter to such
+doctrines as are commonly accepted by the Church, and taught in the
+Christian religion.”
+
+Before Claybank had scarcely finished reading, Mr. Hughes was on his
+feet.
+
+“If the senior warden will take the chair,” he said, “I will move the
+adoption of this resolution.”
+
+But, before the senior warden could put the question, or even assume
+charge of the meeting, Westgate broke in:
+
+“Gentlemen,” he exclaimed, “I hope this resolution will not be adopted
+nor put to vote. I was not consulted in its preparation or I should
+have disapproved of it. I am as heartily opposed to socialism as any
+man here. I have no sympathy even with Christian socialism. I regret
+that our rector sees fit to advocate it. But we should not be hasty in
+putting on him the indignity implied in that resolution. There is a
+better way out. We should approach him in a friendly, not in a hostile
+spirit. We should first reason together. I, myself, will undertake, in
+a half hour’s friendly talk with him, to show him the utter fallacy
+of the whole socialistic creed. It is a mistake to pounce upon him
+suddenly in this fashion. I beg that the gentleman will withdraw his
+resolution.”
+
+But the Reverend Mr. Farrar did not wait for the resolution to be
+withdrawn. Westgate’s last word was hardly out of his mouth before the
+rector was on his feet.
+
+“I very deeply appreciate,” he said, “the kind thought of Mr. Westgate.
+I shall be glad to discuss with him, at any time, the questions that
+have been raised here to-night. But I do not ask for the withdrawal
+of the resolution. If there is to be a breach between my vestry and
+me, it may as well come now as later. If my appeals to the rich and my
+concern for the poor have brought me into disrepute with this body, the
+situation is not likely to grow less acute. For I say to you plainly
+that, even if you were to adopt this resolution by unanimous vote, I
+should continue to preach not only the straight, but the whole gospel
+of Christ. And it is a gospel that demands the abolition of classes,
+the recognition of the humble, the placing of the toiler, no matter
+what the character of his toil, on the same social plane with you in
+every phase of the life of the Church. If you knew these people as I
+do, if you understood them as I do, if you loved them as I do, you
+would bid me Godspeed in my work. And it is because I want you to know
+them and love them and honor them that I shall not cease to preach as
+I have done, to you and to them, until my object in so preaching shall
+have been fully accomplished. So, gentlemen, if you choose to throw
+down the gauntlet, I shall pick it up; and God shall stand as judge
+between us.”
+
+Claybank, who was still on his feet, and who was still holding his
+eye-glasses in one trembling hand, and his resolution in the other,
+broke in immediately.
+
+“In deference to Mr. Westgate,” he said, “for whose judgment I have
+great respect, I will withdraw my resolution. But I want to give
+notice now, that if there is a continuance, as has been threatened,
+of the kind of sermons we have been having of late, I shall, at the
+next meeting of the vestry, offer a resolution demanding the immediate
+resignation of the Reverend Mr. Farrar as rector of Christ Church.”
+
+“Mr. Chairman, I protest against this attempt to muzzle a true servant
+of Christ!”
+
+It was Hazzard who spoke. He was indignant to the core.
+
+“Then let him preach Christianity and not socialism,” retorted Mr.
+Claybank.
+
+“You――you don’t know what Christianity is!” shouted Emberly.
+
+“I know what it isn’t!” roared Colonel Boston. “It isn’t the deification
+of the rabble!”
+
+By this time every man in the room was on his feet. A half-dozen voices
+were struggling to be heard. A most unchristian scene was on the verge
+of enactment. It was then that Westgate, quick-witted and masterful,
+saved the day for decency.
+
+“Mr. Chairman,” he shouted, “if there is no further proper business to
+come before the meeting, I move you, in the name of Christian charity,
+that we do now adjourn.”
+
+The motion was put and carried. The wrangling ceased. The gentlemen
+of the vestry said good-night to the rector, and passed out into the
+street. But the fires of opposition had not been quenched. They only
+awaited encouragement from the first hostile breeze to blaze up anew.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER VII
+
+                           THE RECTOR’S WIFE
+
+
+The deliberations of boards in control of private corporations are
+not, as a rule, presumed to be disclosed to the public. This rule
+holds especially good when applied to vestries of churches. It is not,
+usually, either necessary or wise that the whole body of parishioners
+should be taken into the confidence of the vestry. There are so
+many things that can better be discussed and settled by a small,
+representative body of men, with power to act, than by the parish at
+large. It was, of course, tacitly understood by the members of the
+vestry that nothing should be said, outside their own membership,
+concerning the clash with the rector on the night of the vestry
+meeting. Nevertheless, the entire incident, with many variations and
+exaggerations, had become public property within twenty-four hours
+after its occurrence. It is a moral impossibility to keep such things
+hid. The very light of the next day reveals them. Moreover, most of the
+vestrymen were married. Their wives were as deeply interested as they
+in all matters pertaining to the Church. It is a man of extraordinary
+firmness who can hold back from an anxious and devoted wife legitimate
+information on a subject which is close to her heart.
+
+At any rate, before sundown the next day, the whole parish was buzzing
+with the news of the conflict at the vestry meeting. Of course the
+people of the parish were divided in their opinions. The greater
+part of them, comprising nearly all of the rich and well-to-do, were
+strenuously opposed not only to the policy of free pews, but also to
+the idea of meeting the inferior classes on terms of social equality
+in any of the affairs of the Church. They were quite willing, as they
+had always been, to give liberally to the charities of the Church, and
+to uphold its institutional life and activities to the best of their
+ability; but when it came to a matter of social recognition, they drew
+the line, and they drew it straight.
+
+It was, broadly speaking, only among the less prosperous persons in the
+parish that those were found who sided warmly with the rector. Those
+who were called “advanced,” “progressive,” “visionary,” those with
+deep sympathies and humanitarian impulses, those with new theories of
+government, and a passionate desire to witness, if not to assist in,
+the overturning of the social order; these were the ones who, together
+with nearly all of the poor, espoused heartily the cause of the rector,
+and as heartily condemned the reactionary attitude of the vestry.
+
+It was early in the afternoon of Saturday that the news reached Miss
+Chichester, or rather that Miss Chichester overtook the news. There
+was seldom anything in the way of church gossip or a parish sensation
+that did not early reach the ears of Miss Chichester on its way through
+the community. And this vestry incident was a particularly attractive,
+not to say sensational bit of gossip. Miss Chichester could not rest
+with the exhilarating burden of it on her mind. She was eaten up with
+curiosity to know how the Reverend Mr. Farrar was taking the blunt
+criticism that, according to her informant, had been hurled at his head
+by certain members of the vestry, and how Mrs. Farrar was bearing up
+under the indignities that had been heaped upon her husband. Naturally
+and logically the most appropriate way of satisfying her curiosity
+would be to call at the rectory. As she was active and diligent in
+church work there were plenty of excuses for such a call. She gowned
+herself becomingly and sallied forth. At the corner of the street
+leading to the rectory she met Barry Malleson. He also was in full
+afternoon dress.
+
+“Oh, Barry!” she exclaimed, “have you heard the news?”
+
+“What news?” he inquired.
+
+“About the awful time they had at the vestry meeting last night.”
+
+“Yes, I heard about it. I consider it highly improper to have such a
+rumpus as that in a vestry meeting. I consider it time for some one
+with brains and judgment to interfere. I thought I’d better see what I
+could do. I’m just on my way up now to call on Farrar and try to get
+the thing settled.”
+
+“How perfectly lovely of you! I was going up there too. I wanted to see
+Mr. Farrar about the Doncaster family. We’ll go up together.”
+
+“No; I won’t interfere with your call. My errand’ll keep. I’ll go some
+other day.”
+
+“Indeed, you won’t! You’ll go now. I’ll not be a bit in your way.”
+
+“No; I’ll wait.”
+
+“Barry! Don’t be foolish! Come along!”
+
+“All right! I can tell him in a few minutes what I think of the
+situation. Then you can have him the rest of the afternoon.”
+
+“What do you think of the situation, Barry?”
+
+“I think it’s ridiculous!”
+
+“Isn’t it!”
+
+“Yes; Farrar’s dead wrong. I shall tell him so.”
+
+“How I shall enjoy hearing you tell him!”
+
+They were passing up the street in the shade of aristocratic trees
+beginning now to take on the flush of autumn. She looked up coyly and
+trustingly into his face as she walked and talked, but he was too
+deeply absorbed in the importance of his errand to give much heed to
+her patent admiration.
+
+It was not far to the rectory. The maid who answered the bell told them
+that Mr. Farrar was in and alone. He met them in the hall and took
+them into his study.
+
+“Miss Chichester has an errand,” said Barry, “that she wishes to
+dispose of, and when she’s through I have something on my own mind that
+I want to talk about.”
+
+“Oh, no, Barry!” cried Miss Chichester. “You’re entitled to the first
+hearing. Your errand is so much more important than mine.”
+
+“Shall I act as umpire?” inquired the rector.
+
+“No,” replied Barry. “It doesn’t make much difference. I’ll say what I
+want to and get through and get out. Why, you know, I came up to see
+you about――about that little trouble at the vestry meeting last night.”
+
+“How did you know that there was trouble?”
+
+“Oh, it came to me pretty straight,” replied Barry.
+
+“Everybody knows it,” added Miss Chichester.
+
+“The vestry should have been more discreet,” said the rector. “But no
+matter. What is it you wish to say about the meeting?”
+
+“I want to say,” replied Barry, “that I heartily disapprove of
+disturbances of that kind in a vestry meeting.”
+
+“I’m glad to hear you say so. So do I.” The rector smiled as he spoke,
+and nodded his approval.
+
+“Yes,” continued Barry. “A vestry should always act harmoniously, I may
+say unanimously. There should, however, be a strong hand to guide them.
+I’m inclined to stand for election to the vestry myself, next Easter. I
+think I could be of a good deal of service.”
+
+“That’s a splendid idea,” assented Miss Chichester. “Barry has such
+excellent judgment.”
+
+“Yes; thank you, Jane. But,” continued Barry, “I understand that the
+disturbance was brought on by your advocating free pews. Now, you know,
+Farrar, it would never do to have free pews in Christ Church.”
+
+“Don’t you think so?”
+
+“Of course not. Just imagine who might come and sit with you. Such
+a fellow as Bricky Hoover, for instance, who works in our mill,
+and thinks he has a right to go anywhere. I tell you, Farrar, it’s
+impossible. Utterly impossible!”
+
+“I’m sorry you don’t approve of it.”
+
+“And, in a general way, don’t you know, I don’t approve of your
+attitude toward the laboring classes. As a prominent parishioner, a
+leading citizen, and as vice-president of the Malleson Manufacturing
+Company, I must respectfully suggest that it is――a――extremely
+inappropriate for the rector of Christ Church to join with the lower
+classes in the attack on wealth and――a――culture, and all those things,
+you know. I speak as a friend, Farrar. As one man of high social grade
+to another man of high social grade. You see?”
+
+“I understand. I’m glad to have the opinion of any of my parishioners
+on my sermons or conduct.”
+
+Barry felt that he was making a conquest; that the rector was swinging
+around to his views.
+
+“You see,” he went on, flicking an imaginary speck of dust, as he
+spoke, from the surface of an immaculate waistcoat, “we of the upper
+classes are responsible for the preservation and advancement in the
+world, of art, literature, beauty and, I may say, of religion; and it
+becomes our duty――――”
+
+Here Miss Chichester interrupted him to say:
+
+“Excuse me, Barry; I just want to ask Mr. Farrar if Mrs. Farrar is at
+home. If she is, I would dearly love to have a five minutes’ chat with
+her.”
+
+“She’s at home,” was the reply; “up-stairs, I think. I’ll ask Stella.”
+
+The maid came in response to his ring, and was sent to inquire if Mrs.
+Farrar would see Miss Chichester. She returned in a minute to say that
+Mrs. Farrar would be delighted, if Miss Chichester wouldn’t mind going
+up-stairs to the nursery, where Mrs. Farrar was temporarily engaged.
+Of course Miss Chichester wouldn’t mind. It would be her first glimpse
+of the nursery which she had long been curious to see. She found Mrs.
+Farrar there in temporary charge of the youngest member of the family
+who had just fallen asleep.
+
+“What a lovely child!” exclaimed Miss Chichester in a whisper, bending
+over the crib.
+
+“Yes, he’s a dear. He doesn’t mind in the least having people talk in
+the room when he’s asleep,” said Mrs. Farrar.
+
+“How comforting that is!” Miss Chichester took a chair near the window
+where she could look out across the rectory lawn to the street. “We
+missed you so at the Parish Aid Society Tuesday afternoon at Ruth
+Tracy’s. You weren’t ill, were you?”
+
+“Oh, no. Mr. Farrar discovered another poor family up in the eight
+hundred block. The mother’s bedridden, and nothing would do but I must
+go up and see her Tuesday afternoon.”
+
+“How kind Mr. Farrar is to the poor. What a pity it is that the vestry
+isn’t in sympathy with him in his concern for the lower classes.”
+
+“Isn’t it? I didn’t know.”
+
+“I’m told it isn’t. That’s what led to the trouble last evening.”
+
+“What trouble, Miss Chichester?”
+
+“Why, the trouble at the vestry meeting. Hasn’t Mr. Farrar told you
+about it?”
+
+“Not a word. He rarely tells me about unpleasant happenings; they worry
+me so. What was the trouble at the vestry meeting?”
+
+“Perhaps I ought not to tell you, either.”
+
+“Oh, I suppose I’ll hear about it sooner or later; you might as well
+tell me.” She settled herself back in her chair with a sigh.
+
+“Well, they all got into a dreadful quarrel.”
+
+“Is it possible? What about?”
+
+“About free pews. Mr. Farrar wanted the pews declared free, and they
+all opposed him but Mr. Emberly and Mr. Hazzard.”
+
+“I’m so sorry! Robert is so far ahead of the times. Did Mr. Westgate
+oppose him?”
+
+“Yes; Mr. Westgate and Mr. Hughes, and Mr. Claybank――――”
+
+“And Judge Bosworth?”
+
+“Yes, Judge Bosworth, and――oh, all of the best men in the vestry. Isn’t
+it too bad!”
+
+“It’s pitiful!” She sighed again, and her face grew a little paler and
+more anxious. “I hope there were no harsh words used, Miss Chichester.
+I couldn’t stand it to have any one speak harshly to Mr. Farrar.”
+
+“Why, yes, I believe some very harsh words were used――not by your
+husband, my dear; he’s a gentleman. But they――now really, I mustn’t
+tell you this.”
+
+“But I want to know. No matter how dreadful it is.”
+
+“Well, they demanded Mr. Farrar’s resignation as rector.”
+
+“Miss Chichester!”
+
+“Yes, and then withdrew the demand. And then Mr. Emberly and Mr.
+Hazzard got very angry and said some dreadful things, and―――― Oh, Mrs.
+Farrar, really I must not tell you any more.”
+
+“Go on, please; let me hear it all.”
+
+“Well, if I must tell it; these gentlemen and Mr. Hughes and Colonel
+Boston said shocking things to each other, and they were going to
+fight――――”
+
+“To fight! in the vestry meeting!”
+
+“Yes, actually to fight. And Mr. Westgate and Mr. Farrar stepped
+between them and prevented it, and they had to adjourn the meeting
+before they were through, in order to avoid more trouble.”
+
+“How dreadful!”
+
+“Isn’t it dreadful! But you mustn’t take my word for it, Mrs. Farrar.
+I’m only telling you what I heard, and just as I heard it. It’s so
+unfortunate that all the best men in the vestry should be so bitterly
+opposed to Mr. Farrar.”
+
+“Do you think they are, Miss Chichester? Do you really think they are
+unfriendly to Mr. Farrar?”
+
+There was an appealing tone in the woman’s voice that should have gone
+straight to Miss Chichester’s heart, and led her into making some
+effort to repair the havoc she had already wrought; but Miss Chichester
+was enjoying too deeply the sensation she was creating to take much
+note of the pain she was giving to her listener.
+
+“I’m afraid they are, Mrs. Farrar,” she replied. “I’m afraid they will
+make it very uncomfortable for Mr. Farrar if he insists on trying to
+carry out his projects. I do hope he’ll abandon them, if it’s necessary
+to do it in order to avoid trouble in the church.”
+
+The child in the crib stirred and moaned in its sleep, and the mother
+went to it and readjusted its position and murmured some soothing words
+to it, and returned to her chair.
+
+“I am so sorry,” she said.
+
+“Indeed, it is terrible,” assented Miss Chichester. “I thought I must
+come in and give you what little comfort I could. I brought Barry
+Malleson along, and he’s down-stairs with Mr. Farrar now, trying to
+prevail on him not to antagonize the vestrymen any more. Barry isn’t a
+communicant, you know, but he’s a man of such good judgment.”
+
+“Is he?”
+
+“Oh, very.”
+
+“I do hope Mr. Farrar will listen to him.”
+
+Miss Chichester rose to take her departure, but it was five minutes
+later before she actually got away, and when she went down-stairs
+Barry had already gone. He had not accomplished all that he had hoped
+to accomplish when he came, but he felt that he had made it so clear
+to the rector that he was on the wrong track that his restoration to
+reason and good judgment would necessarily soon follow.
+
+But, while Barry left behind him a smiling, self-confident and
+optimistic host, Miss Chichester left in her wake a woman on whom the
+shock of disclosure had fallen with grievous and humiliating force.
+She had feared that something of the kind might happen, but she had
+never thought that it would come like this. She could not quite believe
+that the best people in the parish were in direct opposition to her
+husband; that gentlemen of the vestry who had always treated her with
+such marked courtesy and consideration could be so openly antagonistic
+toward him. And if it were all true, in what a cruel position was she
+herself placed. By birth, breeding and social alignment she belonged to
+the cultured class. She shirked none of the duties of a rector’s wife,
+so far as her physical and mental ability enabled her to perform those
+duties. She was devoted to her husband, her children and her Church. It
+was true that the new, and to her strange and incomprehensible, ideas
+promulgated by her husband concerning the duty of the Church and its
+adherents toward the humble and the poor gave her some anxiety when
+she heard them or thought about them; but she considered herself so
+ignorant in such matters, and regarded him as being so wise, that she
+usually preferred to dismiss the subject from her mind rather than to
+dwell upon it to her own confusion. Up to this time his attitude had
+not interfered in any way with her Church activities or her social
+relaxations. It had caused her no great embarrassment, nor had it
+given her any particular concern. But now a point had been reached
+beyond which the attempted carrying out of his policy must inevitably
+reflect upon her. If Miss Chichester’s story was true, the situation
+had grown suddenly acute. The most prominent men of the Church had come
+out in open rebellion against her husband. Their wives would naturally
+sympathize with them and side with them. They belonged to the class in
+which all of her social activities had been performed, and all of her
+social friendships maintained. How could she hope to hold her position
+among these people and at the same time remain loyal to her husband?
+It was a cruel dilemma in which she had, by no fault of her own, been
+suddenly and rudely placed.
+
+At dinner time that evening her husband noticed her apparent distraction
+and despondency, and inquired of her concerning the cause of it. She
+successfully evaded his questions, and it was not until after the
+children had been put to bed that she repeated to him the tale that Miss
+Chichester had told to her that afternoon. He assured her that she had
+heard a grossly exaggerated account of what had actually taken place,
+but in its really material aspects he could not do otherwise than
+confirm the story. He did not consider, he said, that the opposition to
+his plans would necessarily lead to their suppression.
+
+“I may never be able,” he added, “to induce my vestry to act with me in
+these matters; nevertheless I shall not relax my effort to make Christ
+Church a haven for ‘all sorts and conditions of men.’”
+
+“I suppose you are right about it, Robert,” she replied. “Of course
+you are. I must take your judgment in these matters because I don’t
+know anything about them myself, and I’ve never been able to understand
+them. But it seems so sad to me, and so――so humiliating that it was
+necessary to antagonize all these people who have been such dear
+friends to us ever since we’ve been here.”
+
+“You take a narrow view of the situation, Alice. The question is not
+whether we are going to keep or lose friends; but it is whether I am
+right or wrong. If I am right, as I truly believe I am, then nothing,
+no opposition, no antagonism, no suffering of any kind should swerve
+me from my course. If these people are antagonistic, the antagonism is
+theirs. I have only the kindliest feeling toward all of them.”
+
+“But, Robert, it seems to me that it is so necessary to keep them
+friendly to us, and interested in the Church. What would we do without
+them?”
+
+“I want to keep them interested in the Church and friendly to us, and
+I believe I shall. But the Church should not be exclusively for them.
+They are already receiving all of the benefits which the Church has
+to offer, while outside there is a great multitude of the Churchless
+who are spiritually starving and dying for want of just such aid as I
+am forbidden by these vestrymen to hold out to them. I must choose my
+own path, and I believe my paramount duty is not to the comfortably
+situated within the Church but to the physically and spiritually poor
+without it.”
+
+“I know, Robert, but couldn’t we visit the poor, and supply their
+needs, and be kind and charitable to them in every way, and try to get
+them to the services and into the Church without taking them in as our
+social equals?”
+
+“No, Alice; that method has been tried for ages, and the working
+classes are drifting farther and in larger numbers away from us. If
+we want them in the Church we must welcome them there as our equals.
+There’s no other way to get them or to keep them. And there must be
+not only social equality in the Church, there must be a fair measure
+of economic equality outside. Our wealthy churchmen must set the first
+example of economic justice, and cease piling up great individual
+fortunes at the expense of the men who labor. I tell you this control
+of the wealth of the world by a few, and this control of the Church by
+those wealthy few, is so unjust and so unchristian that――――”
+
+“Oh, Robert, don’t! I can’t understand those arguments; I never
+could. I’ll admit that you are right. But what worries me is what our
+relations are going to be with these people who are so opposed to us,
+and who have been our good friends.”
+
+“We shall still be friendly to them.”
+
+“But what if they won’t be friendly to us?”
+
+“That will be their loss; and one more assurance, to my mind, that we
+are doing the will of our Master.”
+
+“That’s easy enough to say; but how can you manage to carry on the work
+of the Church without the aid of Judge Bosworth, and Mr. Claybank, and
+Philip Westgate, and all those men who have always been so helpful and
+so――so splendid in every way?”
+
+“You’re crossing your bridges before you get to them. These men have
+not withdrawn their help. If the time comes that they do, another way
+will be found to carry on the work. This is one of the least of the
+problems that confront me.”
+
+“But, Robert, what will I do without the friendship and society of Mrs.
+Bosworth and Mrs. Claybank and Philip Westgate’s mother, and all the
+other ladies who have been so perfectly lovely to me ever since I’ve
+been here? I can be good to women of another social grade, but I can’t
+associate with them, and I must have my friends.”
+
+At last her grievance and her fear had formed definite expression. The
+one was personal and the other was selfish. She never rose above the
+level of her domestic and social environment. She never caught even
+a glimpse of the things for which he was fighting, as they presented
+themselves to his spiritual vision. He tossed his head impatiently as
+he replied:
+
+“I do not think you need to borrow trouble. You will not be deserted on
+my account. But if, by any chance, matters should come to such a pass
+that you are socially outlawed because of my adherence to my duties as
+a Christian minister, then I trust you will accept the situation with
+fortitude, in the spirit of the martyrs, in order to advance the cause
+for which I shall be fighting.”
+
+“That’s all very well for you to say, Robert. But you’re a man and you
+can go out and fight and forget. And I’m a woman, and I’ll have to stay
+at home, ostracized and deserted, and grieve myself to death. I was
+never intended to be a martyr, and I can’t be! I can’t be!”
+
+“Then you shouldn’t have married a clergyman who believes in the
+sacredness of his calling.”
+
+It was an unkind thing for him to say, and he knew it the moment the
+words had left his lips, and he regretted that he had said them. He
+saw her face pale, and a hurt look come into her eyes, but she did not
+appear to be angry. He rose, crossed over to where she was sitting, and
+bent down and kissed her.
+
+“There, dear,” he said, “I’m sorry if I hurt you. We won’t talk about
+it any more, and we’ll hope for the best.”
+
+She laid her hand in his; but it was evident, from the look on her
+face, that the hurt remained, and that she found little comfort in his
+expression of regret.
+
+“I must go out now,” he added after a moment, “and make a sick
+call――Rodney McAllister, you know. And when I come back I’ll go over my
+sermon for to-morrow.”
+
+He got his hat, and she helped him on with his overcoat, and kissed
+him good-bye at the door, but over them both there was a shadow of
+restraint of which they had seldom been aware during the years of their
+married life.
+
+It was too bad, he thought, as he descended the steps of the rectory,
+crossed the lawn, and went down the pavement in the shadow of the
+church, that his wife had not the energy and the desire to join him,
+not only in his campaign for souls outside, but also in his crusade
+for righteousness within the Church. If she could only see beyond the
+circle of her daily life, if she could only understand and appreciate
+the things he stood for and fought for, if only she were an inspiration
+to him instead of a retarding force, with what added courage and
+enthusiasm, with what relentless perseverance and unconquerable energy
+could he not push forward to the accomplishment of his glorious
+purpose.
+
+Not that he intended to be disloyal to her, even in his remotest
+thought. She was charming as a woman, she was devoted as a wife, she
+was ideal as a mother, but――it was such a pity that she could not see
+the visions that he saw, and help him to realize them. If she had but
+the zeal and ability and view-point of Ruth Tracy, for instance. Ah!
+There was a woman who was created for a rector’s wife. And she was
+to marry a layman; a kind-hearted and brilliant, but conservative
+layman, who would doubtless check her aspiration toward the larger
+righteousness, and bind her with the chains of deadening custom. It
+was unfortunate; it was, in a way, deplorable; but it was one of those
+unpreventable situations with which only providence might dare to
+interfere. He heaved a sigh of regret, quickened his pace, and went
+forward to the accomplishment of his errand.
+
+On his way back from Rodney McAllister’s, as he passed down the main
+street of the city, he came to Carpenter’s Hall. Inside the hall a
+public meeting was in progress. It had been called by certain labor
+leaders for the purpose of discussing and deciding upon the attitude
+of labor in the political campaign then fairly under way. Those who
+were wise in such things said that the socialists were back of it. The
+minister stopped to read the poster announcing the meeting, and when he
+had read it it occurred to him that he would enter the hall and listen
+to the speeches. He might learn something which would be of benefit to
+him, on a subject in which he was deeply interested. It was late when
+he pushed his way into the auditorium, and several of the speakers had
+already been heard. Representatives of trade-unionism, of socialism,
+even of syndicalism, had been duly applauded and occasionally hissed as
+they presented their views in turn to their audience. Representatives
+and candidates of the old-line parties had been excluded from the
+speaker’s platform.
+
+At the moment when Mr. Farrar entered the hall Stephen Lamar was
+occupying the rostrum. It was apparent that he had the crowd with him.
+His crude eloquence always captured the audience that he saw fit to
+address. He was a trade-unionist, and one of the leaders of the large
+and growing body of socialists in the city, though his views were
+somewhat too radical to please all of them. However, his influence, his
+power and his leadership were recognized, not only by workingmen who
+went to him for advice, but also by politicians who went to him for aid
+and counsel.
+
+The rector of Christ Church was recognized by some of those who were
+crowding the aisles, and they made way for him so that he might get
+farther to the front where he could both see and hear. One man rose and
+offered him a seat, for the benches were filled; but he preferred to
+stand.
+
+The gist of Lamar’s argument was that while trade-unionism was a good
+thing so far as it went――he himself was a trade-unionist――it did not
+go far enough. It was only through socialism, and through political
+action under the auspices of the socialist party that the workingman
+would be finally disenthralled. Socialism was the only instrument under
+heaven which labor could successfully use to enforce its demands upon
+society. If conservative socialism was not sufficient to accomplish
+that end, then radical socialism must be employed, and if radical
+socialism should prove to be insufficient, then resort must be had
+to syndicalism. In any event, at whatever cost, the capitalist must
+go. The era of the industrial commonwealth must be ushered in. And
+with that era would come peace and plenty, comfort and enjoyment, the
+luxuries of life to all who cared to have them. But this glorious end
+could not be accomplished without a struggle, and a fierce one. If
+labor was ever to release itself from the burden of such laws as made
+John Bradley’s disappointment and death a crime against humanity, it
+must turn deaf ears to the specious pleas of the old line politicians,
+it must wholly disregard the silly vaporings of the capitalistic press,
+it must shake itself free from the grasp of religious superstition and
+the benumbing influence of the Church, and, by its own unaided power,
+with the red flag of fellowship in the van, march on, as it surely had
+the power to do, to a splendid and overwhelming victory.
+
+There was a whirlwind of applause. An enthusiastic adherent of the
+labor leader yelled:
+
+“Go it, Steve! Give it to ’em! Give ’em hell!”
+
+Before the last word was out of his mouth a stalwart Irishman, sitting
+well to the front of the hall, struggled to his feet and made himself
+heard.
+
+“I object,” he shouted, “to this attack on religion. It ain’t nicessary
+and it ain’t dacent. Ye’re doin’ small favor to the workin’men, Steve
+Lamar, to be ladin’ ’em away from the Church. I’m a laborin’ man
+mesilf, and I know there’s nothin’ like religion to steady a man an’
+put heart into ’im, an’ give ’im a stomach to fight for what’s due ’im
+from them that’s robbin’ ’im. Ye’re usin’ the divil’s logic, Steve, to
+desthroy the poor.”
+
+In an instant the hall was in an uproar. A dozen men were on their
+feet demanding to be heard. It was only by continuous pounding with
+the heavy gavel that the chairman of the meeting was able to restore
+order to a sufficient degree to permit Lamar, stung by the Irishman’s
+criticism, to go on with his speech.
+
+“I had concluded my address,” he said, when finally he was able to
+make himself heard, “but, in view of the interruption which has
+just occurred, I will say one word more. My friend, the objector,
+is evidently an adherent of a Church that puts a ban on socialism,
+and stands ready to give absolution on account of all sins, save the
+sin of making war on capital. Advanced socialism has no room within
+it for the pious creeds. Listen to what the leaders have declared.
+Karl Marx said: ‘The idea of God must be destroyed!’ Engel said:
+‘The first word of religion is a lie.’ Bebel declared: ‘Socialism
+denies religion altogether.’ My friends, the best thinkers and the
+most brilliant leaders in the socialistic propaganda have pronounced
+against religion and the Church. I take my stand with them. It is the
+economic, the materialistic interpretation of history that is the key
+to human happiness, not the religious and the ecclesiastical. What
+the workingman wants is justice, not prayers; the full value of the
+product of his own toil, not pious charity. Capital controls and orders
+the Church, and muzzles the bishops and priests. Why, they dare not
+preach even the gospel proclaimed by the Carpenter of Nazareth whom
+they affect to adore, lest their masters be offended. I tell you the
+workingman who permits himself to be bamboozled by the preachers and
+the priests, and bribed by the so-called charity of the Church, is a
+short-sighted fool. He is forcing the very chains that are to bind him.
+Away with the Church! Away with religion! Use your own brains and your
+own consciences, and your own good right arms, if necessary, to work
+out your own salvation. Only so will you ever be free.”
+
+Lamar stepped down from the platform amidst another storm of applause,
+not unmingled with vigorous protests. It was apparent that there
+were those in the audience who disagreed with him. Then, out of the
+confusion of voices, one voice rose, clear and distinct. The rector
+turned to look at the speaker, who stood not far from him, and at once
+recognized the man as Samuel Major, who had been Juror No. 7 in the
+Bradley case.
+
+“Mr. Chairman,” shouted Major, “I believe this attack on religion and
+the Church should be answered. And it should be answered now, in the
+presence of those who have heard it. The Reverend Robert Farrar, rector
+of Christ Church and a friend of labor, is here in the audience, and I
+call on him to take the stand in defense of religion and the Church.”
+
+The suggestion met with both approval and disapproval. A man with full
+black beard and black hair falling on his shoulders arose and called
+out:
+
+“Mr. Presiden’: Thees ees politique assembly, not prayer-meeting. We
+weesh that no clergy deescourse with us. I say ratha’ put that preach’
+out.”
+
+But the sense of fair play that governs all American audiences seized
+now upon this one, and immediately there were cries of: “No! No! Give
+the preacher a chance! Farrar! Farrar!”
+
+The cry deepened into a roar. The demand was insistent. Half the
+audience was on its feet yelling for “Farrar!” He was not unknown to
+most of them. The story of his sermons had gone abroad. They wanted
+to see him and to hear him. The chairman wavered, turned to consult
+with one of the vice-presidents of the meeting, and then called to the
+clergyman to come to the platform. It was an invitation that could
+not be refused, nor had the rector of Christ Church any thought of
+refusing it. Resenting Lamar’s assault on Christianity, he welcomed the
+opportunity to reply to it. He made his way to the rostrum, mounted the
+steps, and turned and faced the audience now grown remarkably still.
+He was stalwart, clean-cut, fine featured. His garments were not of
+the clerical type. He appealed to the eyes of those who looked on him
+before he had spoken a word.
+
+“My friends,” he said, “I accept your invitation gladly. I want to deny
+the charges made against religion and the Church by the last speaker. I
+believe, with the man who replied to him from the floor, that the great
+need of the workingman to-day is the need of religion and the Church.
+Physical comforts are not the sole foundation for the happiness of
+mankind. History can never be properly interpreted from its economical
+side alone. There can be no just interpretation of it that leaves out
+God. Before food was, before clothes or homes or gold or silver were,
+before this world itself was, God was. And after all these things have
+vanished, God will still be. It is the conception of God in the souls
+of men, broadening, brightening, growing as the ages have grown, that
+has lifted man out of the ranks of the savage and brute and has made
+of him an enlightened human being, demanding good food, good clothes,
+good homes, and all the comforts and amenities of life. And we of
+the Christian Church believe that Jesus Christ was the inspired and
+final interpreter of all the wisdom of God. He was born in a manger.
+In childhood He felt the pinch of poverty. In early manhood He was
+a carpenter, working with saw and hammer as many of you are working
+to-day. He dwelt with the proletariat. Their problems and sufferings
+were His. He knew the poor and He loved them and strove for them. He
+had no soft word to say for the rich. If ever there was a guide, a
+leader, a saviour for the toilers of the world, that leader and saviour
+is Jesus Christ. He founded a Church upon earth and that Church is
+still a vital force and a mighty factor in the lives of men, even
+though, in its course through the centuries, it has fallen now and then
+from the lofty height on which He placed it. Restored and lifted up, it
+stands to-day the authorized agent of Christ on earth. That Church is
+as much for you as it is for your wealthy neighbor. Aye, more for you
+than for him, because yours is the greater need. Avail yourselves of
+its privileges. As rector of Christ Church I invite you to come to our
+services, to unite yourselves with us, to partake of all the privileges
+we enjoy. Do not let the fear of intrusion hinder you, nor any coldness
+of welcome on the part of the wealthy prevent you from coming. The
+place is yours, and its privileges are yours, and as children of God
+you have a right to enjoy them. And so far as I can control it, there
+shall be no class distinction there, no line of demarcation between the
+rich and the poor; but every man shall be the equal of every other man,
+and all be brothers in Christ.
+
+“My friends, I am a Christian socialist. I believe in your ideals of
+justice, of equality, of economic independence, and I shall rejoice
+with you when all those ideals have been crystallized into law. But do
+not deceive yourselves with the notion that you can accomplish these
+things without God. Do not make the mistake of attempting to realize
+your hopes without the aid of religion, for you will never succeed.
+Rob socialism of the things that hinder and debase it. Vivify it and
+glorify it with the religion of Jesus Christ who was the one great
+socialist of all the ages, and your cause cannot fail; the dawn of that
+splendid day of which you dream, and for which I pray, will not then be
+far removed from any one of us.”
+
+It was his appearance, his evident sincerity, his magnetic personality,
+no less than the words he uttered, that caught the audience and carried
+it with him. They might not yield to his appeal, they might not follow
+his advice, but from that moment, to the vast majority of them, he was
+something more than _persona grata_.
+
+As he came down from the platform and made his way to the rear of the
+hall a great roar of applause shook the walls of the building, and many
+men stopped him in the aisle to shake hands with him, and to thank him
+for coming to their meeting, and for addressing them thus intimately
+from their own platform.
+
+After that night the toilers of the whole city counted the Reverend
+Robert Farrar as their friend and advocate, and a protagonist of their
+cause.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER VIII
+
+                      A SIGNIFICANT DINNER PARTY
+
+
+Disappointment was in store for those who came to Christ Church on
+the Sunday morning following the vestry meeting in the expectation of
+hearing a continuance of the rector’s sermons on the duty of the rich
+toward the poor, and of the poor toward the Church.
+
+No larger congregation had gathered there at any time during the two
+years’ pastorate of the Reverend Mr. Farrar. Pews that, by reason of
+the voluntary absence of disaffected parishioners, would otherwise have
+been vacant, were filled by curious and interested persons who seldom
+went to any church. Long before the Venite was reached in the order of
+service every seat was occupied.
+
+But the sermon, forceful and eloquent though it was, dealt only with
+the parable of the talents, and the lesson to be drawn from it.
+Nevertheless the humble folk who listened to it went away, for the most
+part, feeling that they had partaken of something that satisfied and
+strengthened them.
+
+There was some discussion among his parishioners as to whether the
+rector had, after all, decided to comply with the expressed wish of
+his vestrymen, and forego his public criticism of the existing social
+order. Some of them said, with a knowing smile, that discretion was
+often the better part of valor. They did not know the man. Nor had
+they, as yet, heard of his brief address at the labor meeting in
+Carpenter’s Hall the evening before. When, later, they did hear of
+it, they were indignant. In their judgment it was utterly inexcusable
+for the rector of Christ Church to take the stump at a political
+meeting, held under the auspices of avowed agitators, for the purpose
+of proclaiming to the non-churchgoing public his social heresies, and
+of inviting the rabble to make itself indiscriminately at home in the
+stately pews, and among the exclusive worshipers of Christ Church.
+Truly he had belittled his calling, and mocked his vestry and affronted
+his people. The bishop should be notified of his conduct without delay.
+But the Reverend Mr. Farrar, having fully decided upon his course,
+did not permit himself to be swerved from it by adverse criticism. He
+had expected opposition, therefore he was not disappointed when he
+received it in abundance. He had never thought that his path would be
+unblocked. He was prepared to suffer for the cause he had espoused. He
+was ready, if necessary, to be socially ostracized if his opponents
+saw fit to emphasize their opposition in that manner. But he wished
+that his wife might be spared. She was so sensitive, so weak, so
+timid and soft-hearted, so dependent on the companionship and favor
+of those who were now, for the most part, out of sympathy with him.
+It was an unfortunate situation. Again the regret that she was not of
+the stuff of which martyrs are made passed uneasily across his mind.
+And on the heels of his regret there came an invitation that was not
+only a reassurance to her, but might also be interpreted as a token of
+sympathy with him. The rector and his wife were asked to dine at the
+Tracys’ with a few friends. As to Mr. Tracy, the invitation was without
+significance so far as it bore any relation to recent events. He never
+concerned himself about controversies in the Church. He never discussed
+religious topics with any one. The only kind of an opinion that could
+be obtained from him was a professional opinion, duly considered,
+delivered and paid for. With his wife of course it was different. She
+had an opinion ready on every question that arose, and she was never
+averse to expressing it.
+
+Reading between the lines the rector could see that Mrs. Tracy’s
+purpose in giving the invitation was to reassure Mrs. Farrar as to
+her social standing, notwithstanding her husband’s heresies. And,
+reading still farther between the lines, he believed that Ruth had
+in mind his own encouragement in the course he was pursuing. He had
+not seen her since the night of the vestry meeting, but word had come
+to him that she was loyally supporting him in his interpretation of
+true religion, and in his idea of the mission of the Church. And why
+should she not support him? He had fully expected it of her. She
+was alert, intelligent, conscientious, in complete accord with that
+spirit of the times which made for progress. Somewhere she had imbibed
+ideas of social justice that did not fit in harmoniously with the
+practical if unstudied programme of her mother. Mrs. Tracy declared
+that she had imbibed them at Bryn Mawr, from which institution she
+had been graduated with high honors in the recent past. But Mr. Tracy
+intimated that they were due to a tendency that she had inherited from
+certain of her paternal ancestors who had been distinguished members
+of the proletariat of their day. Be that as it may, her advocacy of a
+reformation in the social order was open and well known, not only to
+her intimates but to all of her friends. Philip Westgate was the only
+one of them who refused to take her seriously. To him her reformatory
+activity was only a manifestation of an exuberance of youth and
+conscience which would soon exhaust itself in the face of unrewarded
+tasks. She was too charming as a woman to remain long as a reformer.
+
+Mr. Farrar had guessed, with reasonable accuracy, the respective
+purposes which Mrs. Tracy and her daughter had in mind in sending out
+their dinner invitations. It was true that Mrs. Tracy, sympathizing
+deeply with the rector’s wife, desired to show her some attention of
+sufficient moment to indicate to her that her social position was
+intact. She said as much to her daughter Ruth in proposing the dinner.
+
+“I think it’s an excellent idea,” replied Ruth, “to have Mr. and
+Mrs. Farrar here. They are both delightful people, and at this time
+especially they ought to be made to feel at home in every one of our
+houses.”
+
+“Oh,” responded the mother, “I have no sympathy for Mr. Farrar. He
+deserves to have a social ban placed on him. He’s making himself so
+perfectly ridiculous and――and obnoxious; yes, really obnoxious. I don’t
+see what he can possibly be thinking about. I’m going to tell him so if
+he comes, and I’m going to do it openly and aboveboard. But as for his
+dear little wife, she must be protected against the consequences of his
+folly so far as we are able to protect her. Don’t you think so?”
+
+“I don’t think it’s folly on his part, mother; I think it’s bravery.
+But, whatever it is, she should not suffer. Whom shall we invite to
+meet them?”
+
+“That’s what worries me. So many of the best people have taken umbrage
+at what Mr. Farrar’s been preaching that really I don’t know to whom he
+would be acceptable.”
+
+“Why not risk Mr. and Mrs. Claybank? or Colonel Boston and his wife?”
+
+“Oh, dear me! Colonel Boston and Mr. Claybank can’t endure the man.
+Jane Chichester said that both of them got fairly wild at the vestry
+meeting when he insisted on his free pew nonsense.”
+
+“Well, if you want some one who agrees with him, there are Mr. and Mrs.
+Hazzard, and Mr. Emberly and his sister.”
+
+“Ruth! What are you thinking of? Such ordinary people! Neither of those
+women is on my calling list, and I haven’t even a speaking acquaintance
+with the men. I haven’t swallowed Mr. Farrar’s ideas of social equality
+yet; besides, this dinner is not on his account; it’s on Mrs.
+Farrar’s. I feel so sorry for her. Jane Chichester says she suffers
+terribly from what people say about her husband. Jane went to see her,
+you know, and tried to comfort her.”
+
+“I think I’d rather have one of Job’s comforters than to have Jane if I
+were in distress.”
+
+“I know she’s a dreadful gossip. But she means well; and she does an
+immense amount of church work. I think I’ll invite Jane. She ought
+to be perfectly acceptable to both Mr. and Mrs. Farrar. And the
+Chichesters are one of the oldest and best families in the city.”
+
+“Very well, mother. I’m satisfied. Who else?”
+
+“Of course Phil and his mother. That goes without saying. Jane says
+that Phil actually prevented a fight the night of the vestry meeting.”
+
+“Oh, mother! That’s nonsense! Nobody thought of fighting. Phil told me
+all about it after the exaggerated and ridiculous story had spread all
+over the city. But Phil is a natural peacemaker, and while he doesn’t
+agree with Mr. Farrar, I’m sure he is on friendly terms with him.”
+
+“Well, why not invite Judge and Mrs. Bosworth? I understand the judge’s
+attitude toward Mr. Farrar is about the same as Philip’s.”
+
+“I think they will do nicely. But now you should have another man.”
+
+“That’s true! Let me see! I have it; I’ll invite Barry!”
+
+“Mother! Barry is so impossible as a dinner guest!”
+
+“Why? He belongs to the wealthiest family in the city. He is of
+excellent character and has the manners of a gentleman.”
+
+“But his brains, mother, his brains!”
+
+“I’ll admit that nature was not over lavish to Barry in that respect,
+but he’ll do very well indeed. And besides it will please Jane to have
+him here.”
+
+“Yes, I suppose it will. Jane seems to be pursuing him with great
+avidity.”
+
+“And why shouldn’t she? Barry would make her a very good husband. The
+marriage would unite two of the best families. Besides, you didn’t want
+him yourself, why should you object to some other girl having him?”
+
+“I don’t object. Jane is quite welcome to him so far as I’m concerned,
+but――poor Barry! Think of what he’d have to listen to.”
+
+“Well, if he’s like most men, what his wife would say would go in at
+one ear and out at the other, anyway.”
+
+“Yes, and in Barry’s case the passage from one ear to the other would
+be so easy――nothing to interfere, you know.”
+
+“Ruth! To talk that way about your guests! It’s positively sinful!”
+
+“Well, I apologize. And I’m quite willing to admit that Barry has his
+good points. But so many of them lie dormant, and Jane Chichester would
+never be the woman to bring them out. I’ll tell you what Barry needs,
+mother. He needs a wife, not necessarily of the cultured class, but
+one who can supply what he lacks in intellect, and who is sufficiently
+forceful and tactful to use him and his social position for the benefit
+of themselves and the city. As he is now, unmarried, he is more or
+less of a joke. With Jane Chichester as his wife, he would become
+practically a nonentity. With such a woman as I would pick out for him,
+his position and his happiness would be assured.”
+
+“But where is the woman?”
+
+“Oh, I haven’t the least idea. I haven’t so much as――mother!”
+
+“Well, what is it?”
+
+“I have a thought.”
+
+“About what?”
+
+“About whom Barry should marry.”
+
+“Yes, you’ve just expressed it.”
+
+“But I mean that I have the particular person in mind.”
+
+“Well, who is it?”
+
+“Why, it’s Mrs.―――― How foolish of me! I’ll not mention her name. I
+have no right to. And I know very little about her anyway.”
+
+“Is she a widow?”
+
+“Yes; and very beautiful. I have seen her. And she is said to be very
+bright mentally. There, never mind; have we settled on the guests?”
+
+“Yes. Phil and his mother, Judge and Mrs. Bosworth, Jane and Barry,
+to meet Mr. and Mrs. Farrar. That’s enough. I think Mrs. Farrar would
+dread a larger company. But about Barry――――”
+
+“I’m through talking about Barry, mother.”
+
+“Well, then, about Jane――――”
+
+“I’m through talking about Jane also.”
+
+“Then write the invitations.”
+
+Mr. and Mrs. Farrar came early on the evening of the dinner party. None
+of the other guests had yet arrived. Mrs. Tracy went up-stairs with
+the rector’s wife. Mr. Tracy was still engaged in the laborious task
+of getting into his dinner coat. So Ruth and the rector entered the
+library alone.
+
+“I’ve been wanting to tell you,” said Ruth, “how thoroughly I approve
+of your recent stand for social equality in the Church. You’ve known my
+opinion, of course, but, in view of the adverse criticisms I’m afraid
+you’ve been receiving, I thought you might like to know it again.”
+
+“I am glad to know it again,” responded the rector, “and you are very
+kind to give it to me. I value it because you know whereof you speak.
+Both theoretically and practically you know the needs of the poor,
+and the suspicions and aspirations of those in the humbler classes of
+society.”
+
+“And I know, too, that we shall never get those people into the
+Church, nor keep them if we do get them, until we treat them as equals.
+I quite agree with you that the first thing to do is to make all pews
+free.”
+
+“I am fully convinced of that, but I fear that I shall not be able to
+get my vestry to agree with me.”
+
+“Then we will elect a vestry that will agree with you.”
+
+“That is easier said than done.”
+
+“I’ll turn politician for the purpose. I’ll canvass the parish before
+the Easter election. I’m determined to do what I can to abolish class
+distinctions in Christ Church. Mother says I’m a fanatic. Phil more
+than half suspects that she is right. Father doesn’t care.”
+
+“You seem to have enlisted for the war.”
+
+“I have. I’m at your command. I’m ready for any practical service to
+which you wish to put me. I’m tired of seeing Christ Church a mere
+fashionable Sunday club. I want to help make it a religious home for
+everybody.”
+
+“You are very brave and generous. But I’m afraid you haven’t counted
+the cost.”
+
+“What will it cost?”
+
+“Possibly your social standing.”
+
+“I can afford to lose that.”
+
+“You will have to face opposition, ridicule, protest, misinterpretation
+of your motives.”
+
+“No doubt. But these things do not worry me in the least. Mr. Farrar,
+my mind is made up. You cannot discourage me, nor drive me out of this
+contest. I shall be with you――to the end.”
+
+She stood in the soft glow of the shaded lamp, a picture of resolute
+and splendid young womanhood; a modern Joan of Arc, as brave-souled
+and pure-spirited as her prototype of old. The rector of Christ Church
+stepped forward and took the hand she held out to him.
+
+“You are an inspiration,” he said; “you have filled me with fresh
+courage to-night. We shall fight together. I believe God will give us
+the victory.”
+
+Her hand lay in his, warm, firm, clinging; pledge of her loyalty to him
+and of her faith in his ideals.
+
+“There is one matter of immediate concern,” he added, after a moment,
+“in which I want to ask your assistance.”
+
+“You shall have it.”
+
+“Thank you! You remember the Bradley case in court? The one that
+resulted in an enforced verdict?”
+
+“Very well, indeed. I have fought it over with Phil several times. But
+I can’t convince him that the verdict was unjust.”
+
+“I feel that it was. You know Bradley died?”
+
+“Yes; and I know you said things at his burial for which his
+fellow-workmen have been commending you ever since. His widow declined
+to receive you, did she not?”
+
+“She did. That is why I come to you for help. I want to ask if you
+would be willing to call on her. She is a woman of great strength
+of character, unusually intelligent, and has much influence in her
+own community. She came to church on one or two occasions prior to
+her husband’s death, and she was present at the service last Sunday
+morning. While she is interested in the Church, she is distinctly
+hostile to it. I wish greatly that her attitude of hostility might be
+changed into one of at least friendliness, both for her own good and
+for the influence which she can command.”
+
+“I will call on her. I shall be very glad to. She is an unusual woman
+in appearance. I have heard that she is unusual also in character and
+ability. I’ll do my best to persuade her.”
+
+“Thank you again. That’s splendid!”
+
+What a comfort she was! What an inspiration! What a pity that she was
+not the wife, not to become the wife of a progressive rector of an
+advancing church!
+
+Mrs. Tracy swept into the room, with Mrs. Farrar in tow.
+
+“Oh, here you are!” she exclaimed, giving the rector a warm hand-grasp.
+“I suppose Ruth has been vowing allegiance to your heresies, Mr.
+Farrar. I can’t get her to look at the matter reasonably, and Philip
+can’t either; and her father just smiles and says she’s of age and can
+do as she wants to.”
+
+“You’ll have to convert Mr. Farrar first, mother,” laughed Ruth, “and
+then let him convert me.”
+
+“It would serve you both right,” continued the mistress of the house,
+“if we had Jim Dodder, the blacksmith, here to dine with you, with his
+three hundred and fifty pound wife who is bald on the back of her head.”
+
+“Oh, mother!” protested Ruth, “she doesn’t weigh a bit over two
+hundred.”
+
+“Three hundred if she weighs a pound,” insisted Ruth’s mother. “Why,
+when she came the other day to call on our cook, the rocking-chair in
+the maid’s sitting-room collapsed under her.”
+
+“And shall that be attributed to her for unrighteousness?” asked the
+rector.
+
+“Now, Mr. Farrar,” remonstrated the hostess, “don’t try to evade the
+issue. You know what I’m driving at. Your ideas of social equality are
+perfectly ridiculous, I declare! Perfectly ridiculous!”
+
+Mr. Farrar made no attempt to defend himself. Nor did he feel in the
+least hurt. He was quite accustomed to Mrs. Tracy’s blunt, direct way
+of expressing her opinions. He knew, moreover, that she had the kindest
+of hearts, and always tempered her criticism with great mercy for her
+victim.
+
+“Mother’s afraid,” said Ruth, “that in the new régime she’ll have to
+wear a calico gown and a green sunbonnet to church, so as not to arouse
+the envy of the proletarians.”
+
+“And you’ll have to wear them forever, in the New Jerusalem,” retorted
+Mrs. Tracy, “if you keep on consorting with the lower classes here.”
+
+Then Judge and Mrs. Bosworth came, closely followed by Barry and Miss
+Chichester; and Mr. Tracy, having finally gotten into his evening coat,
+joined the group in the library.
+
+Every one was cordial to the rector, and more than cordial to the
+rector’s wife. The party bade fair to be all that Mrs. Tracy and Ruth
+had hoped for it. No untoward event occurred, and no unfortunate remark
+was made, until the dinner had been more than half served. Then it was
+Barry Malleson who blundered, as it might have been expected that he
+would, into what should have been forbidden ground.
+
+He turned to Judge Bosworth, who was sitting diagonally across the
+table from him and said:
+
+“This is the first opportunity I have had, Judge, to compliment you on
+the masterly way in which you wound up that Bradley case against us. As
+vice-president of the Malleson Manufacturing Company I feel personally
+grateful to you. You will kindly accept my thanks.”
+
+The judge’s face flushed with the annoyance he felt.
+
+“You owe me nothing,” he said, “not even thanks. The law in such cases
+is well settled. There was no chance for me to do otherwise than as I
+did.”
+
+“Judge,” replied Barry, “you are too modest. It was your genius in
+applying the law so that it should serve the best interests of society
+that led to the judgment in our favor. The Malleson Manufacturing
+Company, as the great industrial plant of this city, paying out
+thousands of dollars weekly in wages, must not be subject to attack
+by any common laborer who happens to get hurt while in our employ.
+The lesson which the court has taught to that class of people will
+doubtless prove to be a most salutary one.”
+
+Then Barry, with a sense of duty well performed, resumed activity with
+his fork. But Judge Bosworth’s face had grown redder, the rector’s
+lips were tightly set, as if in an effort to prevent the escape from
+them of inadvertent words, and Ruth, fearful of the upsetting of
+her plans for a harmonious dinner, was nervously tapping the damask
+cloth with a shapely finger. Miss Chichester, seeing that Barry had
+unwittingly gotten himself into trouble, felt that it was her instant
+duty to help him out of it.
+
+“Oh, but Barry’s going to give Mrs. Bradley some money anyway, now that
+her husband’s dead. Aren’t you, Barry? I call that very generous.”
+
+“Yes,” replied Barry, “if she’ll take it. Something as a gift, you
+know. Purely as a gift. No obligation connected with it at all.”
+
+“A small sum as an honorarium, I suppose, Barry,” said Mr. Tracy, with
+a twinkle in his eye.
+
+“Exactly!” replied Barry, “an honorarium.” The word sounded good to
+him. He meant to stow it away in his memory, for use on some other
+occasion.
+
+“But what if she won’t accept it?” asked Mrs. Tracy. “That kind of
+people are so very independent.”
+
+“Barry intends to keep calling on her and urging her, periodically,
+until she does accept it. Don’t you, Barry?” inquired Westgate.
+Mr. Tracy and Westgate never seemed able to let escape them a good
+opportunity of having a little quiet amusement at Barry’s expense.
+
+“Why,” replied Barry, “it might take one or two more visits to induce
+her to be reasonable about it, I don’t know.”
+
+“Well,” said Miss Chichester, “if she doesn’t take it the second time
+it’s offered to her, she should never have another chance. Barry can’t
+afford to be perpetually chasing after ungrateful people to force money
+on them. Can you, Barry?”
+
+“But what if Barry enjoys the chase?” asked Westgate.
+
+Then the vice-president of the Malleson Manufacturing Company awoke to
+a dim consciousness of the fact that he was being made the subject of
+gentle raillery.
+
+“Oh, now, look here, Phil,” he said, “the woman’s handsome and all
+that, you know; but really, belonging, as she does, to the laboring
+class, it’s not to be presumed that she would drive so conservative a
+man as I am suddenly daft.”
+
+“She hasn’t driven you suddenly daft, Barry,” replied Westgate. “I’m
+sure that no one who has known you for any length of time would accuse
+her of having done that.”
+
+“Philip,” remonstrated Ruth, “behave yourself!”
+
+“And it seems to me,” added Mrs. Tracy, “that it’s entirely out of
+place anyway to talk about the attractions of a widow whose husband has
+only been dead for two or three weeks. A woman so recently bereaved is
+much more likely to spend her time in prayer and meditation than in
+making herself attractive to men.”
+
+“Mrs. Bradley isn’t,” said Westgate. “Is she, Mr. Farrar? You’ve had
+some talk with her along religious lines.”
+
+In spite of Ruth’s warning glances, Westgate seemed determined that the
+conversation should remain centered on Mrs. Bradley.
+
+“I’m afraid,” replied the rector seriously, “that Mrs. Bradley is not
+much given to prayer as yet. But I have strong hope that we shall
+eventually make a good church-woman of her. With that in view I have
+asked Miss Tracy to take an early opportunity to call on her.”
+
+“Quite proper,” said Barry. “I heartily approve of it.”
+
+“Oh, Ruth!” exclaimed Miss Chichester, “let me go with you when you go
+to call.”
+
+“No, Jane,” replied Ruth firmly, “I think I can do more with her if I
+see her alone.”
+
+It might have ended there if Mrs. Tracy had not seen fit to declare:
+
+“Well, I don’t see any use, anyway, in chasing after people of that
+class to get them into the Church. There’s plenty of material to be
+worked on in our own grade of society. There are enough irreligious
+persons in our own social set to crowd the church if they could all be
+induced to attend the services. Mr. Farrar, why don’t you and Ruth get
+after some of the upper-class derelicts? You might start with Effingham
+G. Tracy.”
+
+Mr. Tracy, sitting at the head of the table, smiled faintly but made no
+response. He did not seem to be in the least concerned about his wife’s
+opinion of him.
+
+“Very good, Mrs. Tracy!” exclaimed Barry. “Very good, indeed! I think,
+myself, that Mr. Tracy would be a proper subject for evangelization.”
+
+Mr. Tracy’s smile broadened, but still he did not respond. Like another
+celebrated character, he could be silent in seven languages. Then Mr.
+Farrar replied to Mrs. Tracy’s question.
+
+“We feel,” he said, “that those who have not had the advantages of
+wealth and education and culture are entitled to our first efforts. The
+Christian message is primarily to the humble and the poor.”
+
+“There you go again,” she responded. “‘The humble and the poor,’
+‘equality in the Church’ and all that. Upon my word, Mr. Farrar, if you
+and Ruth had your way we should be hobnobbing to-night with the élite
+of Factory Hill.”
+
+“And why not?” The rector’s voice was gentle enough, but there was not
+one of the company who did not feel the earnest thrill of it, the ring
+of determination in it, not one, save Barry. He simply noticed that no
+one else replied to the rector’s question, and he considered that it
+was quite his duty to make a response.
+
+“Oh, now, look here, Farrar,” he said. “You don’t mean that. Why should
+we make companions of the kind of people who live on Factory Hill?”
+
+“Because Jesus Christ did.”
+
+Even Barry could realize, now, that the rector had picked up the
+gauntlet thrown down to him by his hostess and her fatuous guest, and
+stood ready to defend his ideal against all the company. The light in
+his eye, the color in his cheeks, denoted the spirit and the zeal that
+were blazing within him. For a moment no one spoke. Mrs. Bosworth sent
+a warning glance across the table to her husband. Mrs. Farrar’s eyes
+dropped, and her face paled with apprehension. Ruth looked appealingly
+at her lover, as though to beg him not, at this time, to cross swords
+with the rector. Even Mrs. Tracy, feeling that the situation was
+rapidly getting beyond her control, sought some method of gently
+relieving it. Turning to Barry she said, quietly:
+
+“Now, Barry, don’t you and Mr. Farrar get into any argument. It
+wouldn’t be a bit interesting to the rest of us. We’re just going to
+convict Mr. Farrar and Ruth without giving them a chance to make any
+defense. There, you’re convicted, both of you.”
+
+“Of what?” asked the rector, smiling again.
+
+“Heaven knows!” responded his hostess. “But I turn you over to Judge
+Bosworth for sentence.”
+
+The judge, falling easily into the drift of Mrs. Tracy’s thought, glad
+to avert what had promised to be a most incongruous and unfortunate
+incident, rose readily to the occasion.
+
+“Very well,” he said. “The sentence of the court is that you, the
+Reverend Robert Farrar, and you, Miss Ruth Tracy, each pay a visit
+to Mrs. John Bradley, and undergo an imprisonment in her house at
+hard labor with her for a period of at least twenty minutes, and that
+you stand committed to Mr. Tracy’s views on church polity until this
+sentence is complied with.”
+
+Westgate broke in at once.
+
+“Your Honor,” he said, “my client, Barry Malleson, desires to plead
+guilty of a similar offense, provided he may receive a similar
+sentence.”
+
+With assumed gravity the judge commanded the prisoner to stand up.
+Barry rose, looking somewhat bewildered. The comedy was being played
+rather too rapidly for him to take it completely in as it progressed.
+
+“Barry Malleson,” said the judge, “the court accepts your plea
+of guilty. Your offense is aggravated beyond that of the other
+defendants, in that, by your own confession, you have offered money to
+a proletarian, by means of which she might have placed herself on a
+par with the four hundred of this city. Nor are there any extenuating
+circumstances in your case. The sentence of the court therefore is
+that you also pay a visit to Mrs. John Bradley; that you undergo an
+imprisonment in her house, for a period of at least forty minutes, that
+you come away with a whole purse and a whole heart; and you are hereby
+paroled in the custody of Miss Jane Chichester until this sentence is
+complied with.”
+
+“And I’ll see,” said Miss Chichester, “that Barry doesn’t break his
+parole.”
+
+It was most inconsequential foolery, but it served its purpose. The
+strain was relaxed. The atmosphere was cleared. Mrs. Farrar and Mrs.
+Bosworth were relieved of their apprehensions, and Ruth was once more
+at ease. New subjects of conversation were introduced, and the dinner
+progressed to a happy and harmonious close.
+
+If Mr. Farrar had expected that either Judge Bosworth or Westgate
+would show any lack of friendliness or loss of cordiality toward him,
+he was agreeably disappointed. There appeared to be no change in the
+attitude of either of them. So far as Westgate was concerned he still
+had a most kindly feeling for the rector. The two men had been on
+terms of more than usual intimacy. They were nearly of the same age,
+possessed of similar cultured tastes, endowed with an equal degree of
+intellectuality. It is true that while the minister was vigorous,
+enthusiastic, and perhaps visionary, Westgate was calm, logical and
+conservative. But their differing traits were complementary, and added
+to, instead of detracting from, their liking for each other. Westgate
+had watched, with deep regret, the rector’s gradual drift toward the
+shoals of socialism. He feared that, sooner or later, lured on by these
+beautiful fallacies which made so strong an appeal to his humanitarian
+sense, the minister would wreck a career otherwise brilliant with
+promise. He did not concede that he, himself, was lacking in the
+broader vision, or that he had failed to discover the drift of humanity
+toward a better social order. He freely admitted that such a betterment
+was desirable; but he insisted that progressives and enthusiasts like
+Farrar were going about the business in an utterly mistaken way, and
+that the effect of their propaganda would be to retard instead of
+to advance the coming of the ideal state. He had not yet found the
+opportunity to have that talk with the rector which he had declared
+to the vestry he intended to have. It was unfortunate, too, because
+he expected to leave the city the following day for an extended trip
+in the West; and after his return it might be too late. Events often
+follow each other rapidly in affairs like these. While coffee was being
+served in the library it occurred to him that he might have a brief
+interview with the minister on this occasion. It would be better than
+none at all. Excusing themselves on Westgate’s plea that he desired
+to talk over some Church matters with the minister before going West,
+they entered the den of the master of the house, adjoining the library.
+Closeted here, with fragrant wreaths of tobacco smoke curling toward
+the ceiling, the two men plunged at once into friendly combat. They
+discussed socialism in all of its phases as expounded by its great
+protagonists, from Marx and Engel down to Spargo and Hillquit.
+
+They dissected the doctrine of the materialistic conception of
+history, the doctrine of surplus values, of collective ownership, of
+the distribution of wealth among the workers, in short all of the
+material doctrines predicated on socialism. But there was little
+yielding on either side, and they found little common ground. When they
+advanced, in the argument, to that modified form of socialism advocated
+by some Christian workers, including Farrar himself, they found still
+fewer points of agreement. The rector contended that the ideals of
+socialism were entirely consistent with, and simply an evolution of
+the doctrines propounded by the Founder of Christianity who was,
+Himself, distinctly of the leveling type; that the materialism which
+had been injected into the socialistic philosophy was due entirely
+to the personal prejudices, and these in turn to the environment, of
+some of the great leaders of the movement, and was not inherent in the
+philosophy itself. He insisted that the anti-religious and unmoral, if
+not immoral, vagaries that had attached themselves to the socialistic
+faith could and eventually would be swept away, leaving a body of
+doctrine which might and ought to be adopted by every sincere advocate
+of the coming of the kingdom of Christ.
+
+To which Westgate replied that Jesus Christ was not a socialist,
+that while the government of His time and country was honeycombed
+with corruption, and brutal in its oppression of the common people,
+He neither attacked it, nor made any attempt to reform existing
+political or social conditions. He condemned the rich because the
+riches of His day were mostly ill-gotten, and He pitied and tried to
+comfort the poor because they were, of all men of His generation,
+most miserable. But His chief concern, and His constant plea, was
+for the spiritual regeneration of the individual man. Moreover,
+that, since socialism declared the evils of society to be solely the
+product of blind economic forces, and not, in any sense, the result
+of individual unrighteousness, and since it denied any spiritual
+incentive to good behavior, and made economic justice the sole factor
+in the establishment of right relations between man and man, it was
+therefore, and must of necessity be, diametrically opposed, not only
+to Christianity but to all religions. And its advocacy of freedom
+from certain moral restraints, particularly the avowed doctrine
+of practically all of its great propagandists――a doctrine flowing
+naturally and necessarily from its basic theory――to the effect that
+the bonds of marriage should be assumed and thrown off, as the amorous
+fancy of those concerned might dictate, that divorce should be granted
+freely, without stated cause, at the will of the parties; this in
+itself was sufficient to put socialism, in any form, outside the pale
+of the Church, and make it abhorrent to Christian civilization.
+
+So they talked and argued, always in perfect good nature, always with
+a feeling of personal friendliness, but they reached no common ground.
+The rector would not yield his idealism. Westgate would not yield his
+conservatism. Then they came directly to the question of the trouble
+in the Church. Again Mr. Farrar explained his ambition to make Christ
+Church a church of the people. He had the kindliest feeling toward all
+of his parishioners. He would not offend nor hurt any man willingly or
+wantonly. But his whole heart went out to the hundreds and thousands
+in the city who were deprived of the benefits and comforts of religion
+because of the social attitude toward them of those in the churches.
+There must come a change in Christ Church. He prayed that it might be a
+peaceful one; but if a conflict should be necessary in order to effect
+it, then he would welcome the conflict.
+
+Westgate assured him that so far as his concern for the poor and the
+churchless was concerned he did not stand alone; that he himself
+was ready to adopt any course that would permanently better their
+condition, either religious or secular, so long as it did not conflict
+with the rights and the welfare of the parish at large; but that
+he was not willing to sacrifice the mental and physical comfort
+and self-respect of the bulk of the parishioners for the sake of
+temporarily gratifying the class-consciousness of a portion of the
+community that Christ Church could never hope to retain. He pointed
+out, moreover, in plain terms, the probable result of persistence
+by the rector in the course which he had marked out. The financial
+supporters of the church would become lukewarm, or openly antagonistic.
+The revenues would decrease. The proper work of the church would
+languish. If the conflict continued, enmity would be aroused, hatred
+would be engendered, the parish would be split into warring factions, a
+breach would be opened that years would not serve to close.
+
+“It was proof of the true Messiah,” replied the rector, “that the poor
+had the gospel preached to them. Would you, because of these material
+dangers which I grant you are imminent, have me fail to do my duty to
+the poor whom Christ loved?”
+
+“By no means,” said Westgate. “But your proper duty to the poor can
+be performed without sacrificing the interests of the rich and the
+well-to-do, to whom you also owe a duty, and whose souls may be
+as precious in the sight of the Almighty as are the souls of the
+destitute. A soul is a soul, regardless of its physical environment.”
+
+“But Christ was the Master and the Judge of souls. And He did not favor
+the rich. His entire concern was for the poor. I consider my paramount
+duty, in accordance with His teaching, to be to the poor.”
+
+“And in the performance of that supposed duty you are willing to bring
+about the destruction of Christ Church?”
+
+“My purpose is not to bring about the destruction of Christ Church,
+but to bring about the destruction of that spirit of selfishness and
+exclusiveness in the church which is even now destroying it.”
+
+It was plain to Westgate that the rector would not listen to reason,
+and that argument must give way to action. When he next spoke it was
+with determination.
+
+“We shall not permit you to send this church to wreck, Mr. Farrar.”
+
+“God forbid that I should do so! It is my purpose to make Christ Church
+bigger, stronger, more spiritual than she has been before in all her
+history.”
+
+“You are a visionary.”
+
+“I am a prophet. You shall see.”
+
+“Very well.”
+
+Westgate rose and discarded the stump of his cigar. “I am not with you;
+therefore I shall be against you. Let me make that plain.”
+
+“I am sorry. You would have been a splendid comrade in the fight.”
+
+The rector was going on to say something more, but there came a knock
+at the door leading to the library, and he opened it. Mrs. Tracy stood
+there with an inquiring look on her face.
+
+“May I ask,” she said, “when this star-chamber session is to end?”
+
+“It is at an end now, Mrs. Tracy,” replied Westgate.
+
+“Well, I should hope so,” she responded. “Do you men know how long you
+have been closeted together? Exactly an hour and forty minutes. Ruth
+and Jane have played all the music they know; Barry’s told all the
+funny stories he can remember; Mrs. Farrar’s yawning, and Mrs. Bosworth
+says she’s simply got to go home. So I think it’s time for you to come
+out and apologize.”
+
+They did come out and apologize. Westgate took all the blame for their
+apparent rudeness on his shoulders; and Miss Chichester promised
+forgiveness if only they would disclose what they had been talking
+about. She surmised, but she never knew.
+
+At any rate, Mrs. Tracy’s purpose in giving the dinner had been
+accomplished; the apprehensive soul of Mrs. Farrar had, for the time
+being, been reassured, and Ruth had had an opportunity to show to
+Mr. Farrar that he was not yet _persona non grata_ to certain of the
+wealthy members of his parish.
+
+During the few minutes that Westgate had alone with Ruth before leaving
+the Tracy home, he took occasion to say to her:
+
+“I’ve had it out with the rector to-night, but he’ll not be convinced.
+I have told him that, in my humble judgment, he is steering Christ
+Church straight on the rocks.”
+
+“I too,” she replied, “have talked with him to-night, and I have told
+him that in my humble judgment he is absolutely in the right, and that
+I shall be with him to the end.”
+
+“Ruth, I am very sorry.”
+
+“Why should you be sorry?”
+
+“Because you will not only help this man to wreck the church, but you
+will do yourself a great injustice.”
+
+“The church will not be wrecked, and I am willing to sacrifice myself
+for the sake of the disinherited poor.”
+
+“Then this dreamer has not only blinded you to the fate of Christ
+Church, but has led you to the brink of self-immolation?”
+
+“He is not a dreamer, Philip. He has not blinded me, nor has he sought
+to blind me. He has not led me, nor has he sought to lead me. I have
+offered myself voluntarily for service in his cause. I believe in him,
+and in his ideals, and in his method of applying Christianity to the
+conditions that surround us. I have enlisted for the war under his
+command, and I have told him so.”
+
+Looking on her as she stood there, erect, clear-eyed and self-confident,
+Westgate could have no doubt of her entire belief in the rector, and of
+her complete absorption in his cause. His heart was stirred with keen
+regret and sharp foreboding, for he could see only sorrow and bitter
+disappointment for her, long before the end of this chimerical crusade
+could be reached. And yet he was powerless to hold her back. He knew
+that in her present condition of mind neither argument nor entreaty
+would be of any avail. She must be permitted to go her way unchecked
+until the day of final disillusionment. He prayed that that day might
+speedily come, with only a modicum of disaster.
+
+“We’ll not quarrel about it now, dear,” he said. “It will be a good
+many days before I shall see you again, and we must part, to-night, as
+lovers.”
+
+Holding his hands she looked up into his face with moist eyes.
+
+“If I could only have you with me in the fight,” she murmured; “you
+would make such a splendid comrade.”
+
+He did not reply at once. The similarity of her expression with that
+used by the rector earlier in the evening struck in upon him ominously.
+
+“You will have me,” he said at last, “to rescue you, and bind up your
+wounds when the battle goes against you.”
+
+“And are you not afraid that you will be giving aid and comfort to the
+enemy?”
+
+“Oh, no! I will simply be taking the part of the Good Samaritan.”
+
+He had drawn her into his arms, and, though clouds and darkness
+obscured the future, there could be no doubt that, to-night at least,
+they were still lovers.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER IX
+
+                         THE SPIRIT OF REVENGE
+
+
+Ruth Tracy was as good as her word. She went to call on Mary Bradley.
+She found her in the little house on Factory Hill from the porch of
+which Stephen Lamar had addressed the crowd on the day of Bradley’s
+funeral. It was a bleak November afternoon; a Saturday half-holiday for
+the more favored class of workers; the busy end of a toilsome week for
+those whose occupations brought them no week-day respite. The rows of
+small, brown houses, some of them ill-kept and dilapidated, formed a
+cheerless foreground to an unattractive landscape. But Ruth Tracy was
+not unaccustomed to the appearance of an environment such as this, and
+she was not depressed by the scene. She had done much visiting among
+the poor. She had left her car at the foot of the hill, and had walked
+up. She had learned by experience that her work among these people was
+most effective when there was the least display of luxury.
+
+From a man who overtook her on the street she inquired her way to the
+Bradley house.
+
+“I am going there myself,” he replied, “and I’ll show you.”
+
+He walked along with her――it was not more than a block or two――and
+brought her to Mrs. Bradley’s door. During this brief walk, however,
+she learned that her guide was no other than Stephen Lamar, of whom she
+had often heard, but whom she had not before, to her knowledge, seen.
+He had taken a personal interest, he told her, in Mrs. Bradley, and had
+found employment for her during the recent political campaign, at the
+headquarters of the Socialist party. She had done her work with such
+marked efficiency that the committee had kept her on as their secretary
+and as one of the promoters of their cause. They valued her services
+highly. The headquarters were closed on Saturday afternoons, and
+undoubtedly she would be at home. She was at home. When she opened her
+door in response to Lamar’s knock she was somewhat taken aback to see
+the labor-leader standing on her porch in company with a well-dressed
+young woman.
+
+“I do not,” he said as they entered the house, “know the lady’s name
+nor her errand. I found her on the street, inquiring her way here. I
+came, myself, to see you about the notices for the Sunday afternoon
+meeting. There’s been a mistake. I’ll talk with you about it when your
+other visitor has gone. In the meantime I’ll step into the kitchen and
+have a little visit with your mother.”
+
+“It’s not necessary for you to leave the room,” interrupted Ruth; “I
+simply came to make a social call on Mrs. Bradley. I’m Ruth Tracy, and
+I’ve heard of Mrs. Bradley through Mr. Farrar, the rector of Christ
+Church.”
+
+The other woman’s face flushed at the mention of the rector’s name,
+but she gave no further sign of approval or disapproval of the errand
+of her guest. She placed a chair for Ruth, and motioned Lamar to a
+seat across the room. He thanked her, and made no further attempt to
+withdraw. He was glad to remain. He wanted to know the real purpose of
+Miss Tracy’s visit. He wanted to be able to checkmate any move which
+might be made toward influencing Mrs. Bradley to identify herself in
+any way with the Church. He feared that if she should look with favor
+on organized religion, she would, sooner or later, be lost to the cause
+of the workingmen, to the cause of socialism, and especially lost to
+him, Stephen Lamar. So he sat quietly and listened.
+
+With charming tact and simplicity Ruth strove to make herself agreeable
+to the mistress of the house. Her efforts were received coldly at
+first, but her evident sincerity and her unaffected interest soon
+brought a response, and it was not long before the two women were
+conversing pleasantly and without restraint. There was no offer of
+help, or of charity of any kind, on the part of the guest, no inquiry
+into economic conditions, no religious appeal, no intimation of any
+kind that she was there for any other purpose than that of a friendly
+visit. Mary Bradley was nonplused. This was something new in her
+experience. Women of the wealthy class who had called on her heretofore
+had come with offers of help, or sympathy, or religious consolation;
+and she had declined their help, had refused their charity, had
+resented their interference on behalf of the Church. But this was
+different. Why had this young woman come on what appeared to be simply
+a friendly visit? What ulterior motive was back of it? How much had
+the rector of Christ Church to do with it? Except at the moment of
+introducing herself Ruth had not mentioned his name. It was Mrs.
+Bradley herself who now brought it to the front.
+
+“I hardly thought,” she said, “that Mr. Farrar would have remembered
+me.”
+
+“He forgets no one, and he remembers you very well,” was the reply.
+“He was much concerned over your lawsuit, and over the death of your
+husband, and he is interested now in your welfare.”
+
+“He is very kind. I think he is too good to be a preacher.”
+
+“Why do you say that, Mrs. Bradley? Should not a preacher be one of the
+best of men?”
+
+“Oh, I suppose he should be; but if he is it’s in spite of his calling,
+not because of it.”
+
+“I do not understand you.”
+
+“I mean this, Miss Tracy; a church such as yours is in control of the
+rich people who support it. And the rector can’t please those people
+and be just to the poor at the same time. And the preacher who isn’t
+just to the poor isn’t good.”
+
+Miss Tracy made no effort to defend the rich people of her church. She
+simply said:
+
+“I don’t think Mr. Farrar is so much concerned about pleasing people as
+he is about being right. And I think he is very just to the poor.”
+
+“So do I. That’s the reason I think he is too good for his Church. I’ve
+heard about the trouble he is having. I don’t know whether you are for
+him or against him. But I’m sure he’ll be beaten in the end.”
+
+“Why do you think so?”
+
+“Because the power of money is too great. It controls everything;
+society, business, law, religion, everything. Sooner or later Mr.
+Farrar must yield to it or it will destroy him.”
+
+“I do not think you know how much will and determination Mr. Farrar
+has.”
+
+“In a way I do. I have heard him preach several times lately. He is
+very brave. I believe he is as good as he is brave. He has――done me
+some favors, and I am very grateful to him.”
+
+“Then why do you not permit him to call?”
+
+“Did he tell you that I refused him? Well, that was before I knew of
+what stuff he was made.”
+
+“And you wouldn’t refuse him now? May I tell him so? He will be so
+glad.”
+
+Lamar, who had been watching, with some uneasiness, the drift of the
+conversation, could not refrain at this juncture from interrupting it.
+
+“I don’t think it does any good, Miss Tracy,” he said, “for preachers
+to visit the working class. It doesn’t help us any toward industrial
+freedom, and that’s what we need first, not religion.”
+
+“But Mr. Farrar is also an advocate of industrial freedom.”
+
+“I know; but his advocacy counts for nothing so long as he preaches
+from a capitalistic pulpit. If he wants to be of real service to us let
+him out loose from the Church and come with us.”
+
+“He is trying to make his church a church of the people, where every
+one, rich and poor, will stand on an equal footing.”
+
+“He can’t do it. No one can do it. The whole ecclesiastical system
+would have to be changed to accomplish it. His spectacular crusade
+will amount to nothing. He’s only stirring up trouble for the laboring
+people. He’s making the rich angry, and they’ll take it out on the
+poor. He’s making the capitalists afraid, and they’ll turn the screws
+tighter on the men that work for them. I hope Mrs. Bradley will not see
+this man. It can do her no possible good, and may injure the cause.”
+
+Mary Bradley, who had been quiet since Lamar entered into the
+conversation, turning her eloquent eyes from one to the other of
+the speakers, now spoke up on her own account. She had on her face
+something of the look that was there that day in the court-room when
+she denounced the injustice of the law. She was not accustomed to
+being told whom she should or should not receive at her house. Her
+voice, quiet and well modulated, had in it nevertheless a ring of
+determination as she turned to Ruth and said:
+
+“You may tell Mr. Farrar that I shall be glad to see him whenever he
+chooses to come.”
+
+In the excitement attendant upon this incident, none of the three had
+noticed the hum of an automobile in the street outside, nor that the
+car had stopped in front of Mrs. Bradley’s house. There came a knock at
+her street door, and she went and opened it. Barry and Miss Chichester
+stood on her porch. She recovered at once from her astonishment and
+invited them to come in.
+
+“Well, of all things!” exclaimed Miss Chichester, when she came in
+sight of Ruth. “What in the world brought you here?”
+
+“I came to call on Mrs. Bradley,” Ruth answered, quietly.
+
+“Quite a coincidence,” remarked Barry. “The last time I came here I
+found Farrar here. And this time I find his right hand helper here.
+There must be a conspiracy to get Mrs. Bradley into the Church.”
+
+“We’re always conspiring to get people into the Church,” said Ruth.
+“Mr. Lamar, let me introduce you to Miss Chichester, and Mr. Malleson.”
+
+“Malleson of the Malleson Manufacturing Company,” explained Barry.
+“Vice-president, you know.”
+
+Lamar smiled grimly. “I am glad,” he said, “to meet so distinguished a
+gentleman.”
+
+“Won’t somebody please introduce me to Mrs. Bradley?” asked Miss
+Chichester plaintively.
+
+“Pardon me!” replied Ruth. “I thought you knew each other. Mrs.
+Bradley, this is Mr. Malleson’s friend, Miss Chichester.”
+
+Barry looked doubtful, but Miss Chichester did not demur to the form of
+the introduction. She bowed slightly and smiled.
+
+“I’m glad to know you,” she said. “Barry, that is Mr. Malleson, has
+told me about you. I believe you have had some very hard times, Mrs.
+Bradley.” She took in the widow’s very plain costume, and cast her eyes
+about the cheaply furnished room.
+
+“Hard times come sooner or later, in one form or another, to every
+one,” replied Mrs. Bradley. “I’ve simply been having mine now.”
+
+“But,” continued Miss Chichester, “it must be so distressing to be so
+poor.”
+
+The widow’s eyes flashed, but no resentment was discernible in the tone
+of her voice.
+
+“I have plenty of company. Every one is poor on Factory Hill. Besides,
+so many people have been kind to me in my misfortune. Mr. Lamar has
+found congenial employment for me. Mr. Farrar has called once to
+see me. Miss Tracy has to-day made me a most agreeable visit. Miss
+Chichester has done me the honor to call. Mr. Malleson has been here
+once before to offer me help, and has done it so courteously and
+sincerely that I am sure I may look upon him as my friend.”
+
+The eyes that she turned on Barry were soft and appealing. He had never
+seen another woman with such eyes as Mary Bradley’s; what wonder that
+they entranced him? Unaccustomed to any of the social graces, she had
+bidden her guests to be seated, and sat among them with a modesty and
+self-confidence that would have done credit to a dweller on the borders
+of Fountain Park.
+
+“Barry is so tender-hearted,” said Miss Chichester, “and so easily
+touched by the sight of distress. He’s really foolish about it.”
+
+“Indeed!” said Mary Bradley. “I didn’t know.”
+
+“Why,” stammered Barry, “it’s only what we do for all our widows; I
+mean for all widows who became widows because their husbands were in
+our employ.”
+
+“Exactly,” said Mrs. Bradley.
+
+“And that reminds me,” continued Barry, “that I’ve brought the check
+and voucher with me again, and if you’ll sign the check and take the
+voucher I’ll be glad to leave them.”
+
+“Barry means,” broke in Miss Chichester again, “that you should sign
+the voucher and take the check, don’t you, Barry?”
+
+Without waiting for a reply she hurried on: “I hope you’ll do it, Mrs.
+Bradley. Barry is very anxious to get it settled and off his mind.
+Aren’t you, Barry?”
+
+“I realize that I should have some consideration for Mr. Malleson’s
+mind,” replied Mrs. Bradley, “but really, I don’t see how I can take
+this money with a good conscience. I understand,” turning her eyes
+again on Barry and dissipating what little self-assurance he had left,
+“that you offer me this as a gift, pure and simple?”
+
+“Pure and simple,” was his reply; but when he saw her shake her head
+slightly he added: “Or as a loan, Mrs. Bradley, or as――as a trust.
+Anything you like so long as you take it.”
+
+She laughed a little at that, showing rows of perfect white teeth. Then
+she turned to Ruth.
+
+“Mr. Malleson’s company,” she explained, “after my husband’s death,
+in view of my straitened circumstances, offered me a sum of money. I
+couldn’t see my way clear to accept it at the time, and I can’t now.
+I’m working; I’m supporting myself; my debts are paid. I don’t see why
+I should accept this gift, much as I appreciate the generosity of Mr.
+Malleson and his company. What would you do, Miss Tracy, if you were in
+my place?”
+
+“I wouldn’t take it,” replied Ruth, “if I felt that it would in the
+least humiliate me, or have a tendency to undermine my independence or
+self-respect.”
+
+“There, Mr. Malleson,” said Mrs. Bradley, “you hear what Miss Tracy
+says.”
+
+“I do,” protested Barry, “but Ruth was never a――a childless widow, with
+a family to support, and she doesn’t know how it feels.”
+
+Ruth colored and laughed, but, without waiting for her to respond, the
+“childless widow” turned to Barry’s companion.
+
+“And what would you do, Miss Chichester?” she asked.
+
+“I would take it, without hesitation,” Miss Chichester replied. “Miss
+Tracy is a very dear friend of mine, but I disagree with her entirely
+in this matter. Besides, the company is rich and can well afford to pay
+you. And then again, if you shouldn’t take it I know Barry would be
+grieved. Wouldn’t you, Barry?”
+
+But the young man was so deeply engaged in studying the lights and
+shadows on Mrs. Bradley’s face that, if he heard the question at all,
+he paid no heed to it.
+
+The widow now appealed to Lamar.
+
+“Mr. Lamar,” she said, “you are a friend of mine, and your judgment is
+very good. What would you do if you were in my place?”
+
+“I should turn the offer down,” replied Lamar, promptly. “It would be a
+great blunder for you to take this corporation’s money. It would injure
+you and our cause in more ways than one.”
+
+The widow smiled again. Her face was fascinating when she smiled. There
+were two men in the room who would have vouched for that.
+
+“There you are!” she exclaimed. “See what an embarrassing position
+you place me in. Mr. Malleson and Miss Chichester are positive that
+I should take the money, and Miss Tracy and Mr. Lamar are equally
+positive that I shouldn’t. Two and two. And you are all my friends.
+What am I to do?”
+
+Up through Barry’s consciousness there struggled a gleam of light.
+
+“I’ll tell you what to do, Mrs. Bradley,” he said, speaking with
+unusual rapidity; “hold the matter under advisement, a――hold the matter
+under advisement. For a fortnight say. Think it over carefully, and――as
+my friend Farrar would say――prayerfully, and I’ll see you about it
+later.”
+
+Then Miss Chichester again had her innings.
+
+“Barry!” she exclaimed, “you’ll do nothing of the kind! If you don’t
+close it up to-day you must drop it entirely, because I shall not come
+with you again to help you put it through.”
+
+Barry pondered for a moment over this ultimatum, but he did not appear
+to be at all displeased.
+
+“I’ll not insist,” he said, “on your coming again. In fact I think
+possibly I could get along with Mrs. Bradley better, don’t you know, if
+there wasn’t any one present to interfere.”
+
+And then the widow closed the discussion. “I have decided,” she
+said, “to adopt Mr. Malleson’s suggestion, and hold the matter under
+advisement.” She turned to Barry. “I shall be glad to see you at any
+time, here or at my office in the Potter Building.”
+
+Again those wonderful eyes, looking him through and through, not boldly
+or coquettishly, or in any unseemly way, but with a magnetic power that
+a far stronger will than his would have been unable to resist. Ruth
+rose and took Mrs. Bradley’s hand.
+
+“I want you to come and see me,” she said. “We shall find so many
+things to talk about. You will come soon, won’t you?” She turned to
+Lamar and bowed smilingly. “You see, Mr. Lamar,” she said, “we women
+will have our own way, and Mrs. Bradley is just like the rest of us.
+Barry, if you and Jane are going now, I’ll ride down the hill with you.”
+
+“We’re going now,” replied Miss Chichester, firmly. “Come, Barry!”
+
+But Barry, who had risen, stood as if in a dream.
+
+“Come, Barry!” repeated Miss Chichester. “Ruth is already in the
+street.”
+
+It was not until she laid her hand on his sleeve that he really awoke
+and was able, in some fashion, to make his adieux. He remembered,
+afterward, much to his dismay, that he had shaken hands cordially with
+Lamar, and had invited him to call some day at the office and go over
+to the City Club with him for luncheon.
+
+When they were gone, the door from the kitchen was opened, and the
+little, gray-haired, wrinkled-faced old woman who had been there on the
+day of Barry’s first call looked in.
+
+“Have they all gone?” she inquired.
+
+“All but Steve, mother,” her daughter replied.
+
+“He don’t count,” she said. “Who was the young lady that came first?”
+
+“That was Miss Ruth Tracy.”
+
+“What did she want?”
+
+“She wanted,” replied Lamar, “to capture Mary.”
+
+“What for?”
+
+“To get her into the Church; to make a hypocrite of her.”
+
+“The Church ain’t such a bad thing, accordin’ to my way o’ thinkin’,”
+said the old woman. “Both o’ ye’d be better off if ye seen more of it.
+Who was the other young lady?”
+
+“That was Miss Chichester, mother.”
+
+“What did she want?”
+
+“She wanted,” replied Lamar, “to protect young Malleson.”
+
+“Can’t the man take care of himself?”
+
+“Not when Mary’s around, he can’t.”
+
+“Why not?”
+
+“Ask Mary.”
+
+But the old woman didn’t ask Mary; she gave a little, cackling laugh,
+and retreated to the kitchen, closing the door behind her.
+
+“I suppose you know the purpose of Miss Tracy’s visit,” said Lamar when
+he was again alone with the widow.
+
+“I can imagine what it is,” was the reply.
+
+“If she can get you interested in the preacher,” he continued, “and the
+preacher can get you interested in the Church, you’re as good as lost.”
+
+“I might be as good as saved,” she replied.
+
+“That’s religious cant. You know what I mean. The moment you get into
+the Church capital will have its clutches on you. You’ll be lost to
+socialism, lost to labor, lost to me. None of us can afford it.”
+
+“You seem to value my services,” she said.
+
+“I do. Socialism does. You’ve brought us more genuine recruits in the
+short time you’ve been with us than all those high-toned, college-bred
+fellows that train with us could get for us in years.”
+
+“You are extravagant.”
+
+“I have a right to be. I know what I’m talking about.”
+
+“Then suppose I should use the power you credit me with in winning over
+Mr. Farrar and Miss Tracy to the cause. I think they’re more than half
+converted now.”
+
+“We don’t want them. They’re too closely allied to the capitalistic
+class. We can’t afford to have that kind of people with us. The
+workingmen look on them with suspicion; they have no confidence in
+them. As for the preacher, he’s putting out a big bluff, but he doesn’t
+mean it, and he couldn’t accomplish anything if he did. He’s wincing
+now under the screws they’re putting on him.”
+
+“You have a grievance against the preacher. You haven’t got over the
+drubbing he gave you at Carpenter’s Hall. It hurts a little yet,
+doesn’t it, Steve?” She looked at him with mischievous eyes, and a
+smile shadowing her perfect lips.
+
+“Nonsense, Mary! He didn’t get the best of me. Haven’t I told you?”
+
+“The crowd seemed to think he did.”
+
+“Oh, the crowd! They’ll shout for anybody who can tickle their ears
+with fine phrases. It’s the easiest thing in the world to carry a mob
+of these ignorant, flat-headed day-laborers off their feet.”
+
+“How about the ‘wisdom of the proletariat’?”
+
+“The ‘wisdom of the proletariat’ be damned!”
+
+He reddened and laughed a little as he thus passed condemnation on one
+of his own favorite phrases.
+
+“Well,” she said, the smile still playing about her mouth, “what would
+you say to my converting Barry Malleson?”
+
+“Oh, he’s anybody’s fool. Do what you like with him. You’ve got him
+pulverized already. I’d crack his skull now, out of pure jealousy, if
+he had brains enough in it to rattle.”
+
+“Don’t you think he’d make a good socialist?”
+
+“That depends on how far you could bleed him for funds.”
+
+“Steve, you’re as cold-blooded as a shark.”
+
+“I admit it; in everything but my admiration for you. But I don’t care
+to have you setting up friendly relations with such people as this
+preacher and the crowd that was here to see you to-day. It won’t do any
+good, and may do a good deal of harm.”
+
+“Do you propose to control my social conduct?”
+
+“I’ve been your friend, haven’t I?”
+
+“That’s very true.”
+
+“And I’ve landed a good job for you?”
+
+“That’s true also.”
+
+“Then be reasonable; and understand what I have in store for you.”
+
+“What have you in store for me?”
+
+“This. Listen! In the new social régime women will be on a par with
+men. That’s a part of the socialist creed. It’s going to be a question
+of brains, not sex. You can be as much of a leader as I can. Working
+together we can control a following that will give us almost unlimited
+power, almost unlimited opportunity. There’s going to be a rich harvest
+for some one. It may as well be ours as any one’s. Do you understand?”
+
+“I think I do. But that lies pretty well in the future, doesn’t it?”
+
+“One can’t tell just how near or how far away it may be.”
+
+“Well, there’s something I want here and now that will give me more
+pleasure and satisfaction than all the future glory you can predict for
+me.”
+
+“What is it?”
+
+“Revenge.”
+
+“What do you mean?”
+
+“I’ll explain.” She sat with her elbows resting on the table, her hands
+covering her ears, her eyes dominating him as he sat across from her,
+taking in her words.
+
+“You know what they did to John Bradley?”
+
+“Yes; they killed him.”
+
+“And you know what they did to me?”
+
+“I know; they threw you out of court; treated you like a dog.”
+
+“Worse than a dog. I said that day when they got their verdict that I’d
+make them sorry for it. I propose to do it, and I want you to help me.”
+
+“How?”
+
+“I want Richard Malleson smashed. I want his company wrecked. I’ll be
+satisfied with nothing less.”
+
+“You’ve laid out a big job.”
+
+“Do you flinch at it?”
+
+“No; but it’s no boys’ play to do it.”
+
+“You know how?”
+
+“There’s only one way; put organized labor on his neck.”
+
+“Exactly! That’s what I want done.”
+
+He looked at her for a moment without replying. She sat there resolute,
+splendid, perfect, the most desirable thing in the world in the eyes
+and thought of Stephen Lamar. But she had held him at arm’s length. She
+had drawn a rigid line beyond which he had not dared to trespass. Her
+coolness had only inflamed his ardor. She had given him, now, something
+to do which would be not only a test of his ability, but a test also of
+his declared devotion to her. If he should accomplish the task she was
+setting for him, surely he would be entitled to a rich compensation.
+Still looking into her eyes he said:
+
+“And if I succeed in doing what you ask, I shall want my pay for it.”
+
+“You shall have it,” she replied. “What’s your price?”
+
+“You.”
+
+She laughed a little. “You shall have,” she said, “a man’s reward for
+work well done.”
+
+And with that promise he had to be content.
+
+Ten minutes later the old woman came back from the kitchen into the
+living-room, and found her daughter there alone.
+
+“Is Steve gone?” she asked.
+
+“He’s gone, mother.”
+
+“I don’t care much for Steve.”
+
+“Why not?”
+
+“I don’t like the look in his eye.”
+
+“That’s no reason.”
+
+“He don’t believe in God.”
+
+“Lots of people don’t.”
+
+“Nor religion.”
+
+“I don’t care much for religion myself.”
+
+“The more shame to ye. They say Steve’s got a wife up in Boston. Has
+he?”
+
+“I’ve never asked him. He’s never told me.”
+
+“But if he has why don’t he live with her?”
+
+“That’s his own business.”
+
+“It’s bad business. There’s somethin’ wrong about him. I say let Steve
+Lamar alone. He’ll do ye harm.”
+
+“Mother, I don’t care who he is, or what he is, or what he does, so
+long as he does what I’ve asked him to do.”
+
+“What’ve ye asked him to do?”
+
+“That’s my secret.”
+
+“It’s a fool’s secret. Some day he’ll kill ye.”
+
+The angry old woman shuffled back into the kitchen and slammed the door
+behind her.
+
+At eight o’clock that evening Stephen Lamar entered a saloon on lower
+Main Street, known as “The Silver Star.” It was a favorite gathering
+place for the mill-workers. It was a place where there was undoubted
+social equality. And in that respect, as Lamar once said to a crowd
+there, it overtopped any church in the city.
+
+He was greeted noisily as he went in. Some one, standing at the bar,
+called out to him to come up and have something.
+
+“No,” he replied, “I’m not drinking to-night. I’m looking for Bricky.”
+
+“Bricky ain’t been in yet,” said the bartender.
+
+“Maybe he won’t come no more,” added the man at the bar. “I’m told he’s
+been goin’ to hear that feller preach. The feller’t wears the nightgown
+an’ flummadiddles an’ lets on he’s for the laborin’ man. Maybe he’s got
+Bricky to cut out the booze.”
+
+A man seated alone at a table in the corner of the room spoke up.
+
+“You’ve got no call to speak disrespectful of Mr. Farrar, Joe. I’ve
+been goin’ to hear him myself. Take it from me, he’s the straight
+goods.”
+
+“Right you are, Bill!” exclaimed another one of the company, and a half
+dozen voices echoed approval. Then a man, seated with a group at a
+table, rose unsteadily to his feet and lifted a half-drained glass in
+the air.
+
+“I drink,” he shouted, “to health of rev’ren’ ’piscopal preasher.
+Frien’ o’ labor. Who joins me?”
+
+Every glass was raised, and all of the men seated rose to take part in
+the tribute.
+
+“Come, Steve!” shouted one; “take a nip to the preacher.”
+
+But Lamar shook his head defiantly.
+
+“Not I,” he said. “You fellows can drink your empty heads off to him
+if you want to. But I say that any one who pretends to be a friend to
+the laboring man just to get a chance to steer him into a capitalistic
+church is a damned hypocrite!”
+
+The lone man in the corner brought his glass down on the table with a
+crash.
+
+“Take that back, Steve!” he shouted. “You’ve got no right to say that,
+an’ it’s a lie. He’s no hypocrite. I know. Why, boys, what you think
+that preacher done when my Tommy was sick an’ died with the black fever
+last spring, an’ you, Steve Lamar, and every mother’s son of you here,
+was too damn scared o’ your lives to come within a mile o’ the house.
+He held my boy’s hand whilst he was a-dyin’; that’s what he done, an’
+he come there an’ read the funeral business when my own brother was
+afraid to come into the yard; an’ the missus would crawl a hundred
+miles on her hands and knees to-night to do the least kindness to the
+preacher with a heart in him. Oh, to hell with your knockin’!”
+
+For a moment following this impassioned speech there was utter silence
+in the room; then came a roar of applause, and in the midst of it some
+one shouted: “Drink! To the preacher with a heart in ’im! Drink!”
+
+Every man in the room was on his feet and drinking, save Lamar; and
+every man drank his cup to the bottom in honor of the clergyman who was
+not afraid.
+
+It was a strange tribute; equivocal, incongruous, unseemly no doubt,
+but genuine indeed. Lamar stood, for a moment, sullen and defiant; but
+before the glasses were lowered he turned to the bartender and said:
+
+“When Bricky comes in tell him I want to see him.”
+
+Then he strode on into an adjoining private room, and closed the door
+behind him. But he took back nothing that he had said.
+
+Ten minutes later Bricky came and joined Lamar in the private room. He
+was a tall, angular fellow, with a shock of dull red hair, and a pair
+of gray eyes that looked out shrewdly from under overhanging brows.
+He was a skilled laborer in the plant of the Malleson Manufacturing
+Company, and a leader of the workingmen employed there.
+
+“You’ll have a beer, won’t you?” he asked, touching a button in the
+wall behind him.
+
+“I wasn’t drinking,” replied Lamar, “but I will have a whiskey, and
+I’ll have it straight. Beer won’t touch the spot to-night. I’ve got an
+attack of nerves. The treat’s mine.”
+
+“Thanks! I heard the boys outside rubbed it into you a little.”
+
+“Rubbed nothing in. They can’t faze me by shouting for the preacher.
+And as for Joe Poulsky, damn him! I’ll get him yet.”
+
+When the whiskey came he drank it at a gulp. Then he asked how the men
+were getting on at the Malleson plant. Bricky (his name was Thomas
+Hoover, but few knew him otherwise than as Bricky) replied that things
+were going on as usual. The wage scale was satisfactory; sanitary
+conditions good, hours of labor agreeable, bosses human; probably the
+best plant in the city in which to work.
+
+“When does the agreement expire?”
+
+“First o’ January,” was the reply.
+
+“Going to renew it?”
+
+“So far’s I know. Why?”
+
+Lamar did not answer the question, but he asked another one.
+
+“Do you know how much the company’s going to clean up in net profits
+this year?”
+
+“No; I ain’t heard.”
+
+“Well, I have. It’ll run close to two hundred thousand. Malleson and
+his family get the lion’s share of it.”
+
+“I s’pose so. They’re the biggest stockholders.”
+
+“Do you think you fellows that work there are getting what you’re
+entitled to out of the earnings of that concern?”
+
+“We’re gittin’ what the scale calls for.”
+
+“Never mind the scale. Do you think you’re getting a fair share of the
+money your work brings in?”
+
+“I don’t know. I ain’t figured it out.”
+
+“Well, I have. I know you’re entitled to about fifty per cent, more
+than you’re getting.”
+
+“That’s some of your socialist arithmetic, Steve.”
+
+“No. Socialist or no socialist; they could pay you fifty per cent. more
+and make a handsome profit beside.”
+
+“Maybe. I don’t know. Maybe we’re entitled to it. It’s another thing to
+git it.”
+
+“You won’t get it unless you ask for it. Why don’t you demand an
+increase under a new scale?”
+
+“The old man wouldn’t stand for it.”
+
+“He’d have to. He couldn’t afford to shut down. He’s making too much
+money. Besides, there are seven non-union men working in the plant.
+I’ve had them checked up.”
+
+“Well, of course they’ve got to join or quit.”
+
+“Sure! And you’re only getting time and a half for overtime. You’re
+entitled to time and three-quarters.”
+
+“I guess that’s right, too.”
+
+“Of course it’s right. Why, there are a dozen things that ought to be
+fixed up before you fellows sign a new scale. That concern’s pulling
+the wool over your eyes every day. Wake up! and get what belongs to
+you.”
+
+“That’s easier said than done, Steve.”
+
+“Not a bit. All you’ve got to do is to work the thing up. Get after
+the men. Convince them. Do it yourself. Don’t bring in outsiders. Show
+them where they’re getting trimmed every day they work. Put them up
+to demand a new scale with an increase that’s worth while, and better
+all-’round conditions.”
+
+“Suppose we do that and the old man sticks out?”
+
+“Then strike.”
+
+“How long would a strike last without Union backin’?”
+
+“You’d have Union backing. I’ll see that the Union endorses you. I can
+do it. You know that. I’ll stop every wheel in every mill in this city
+till you fellows get what you demand.”
+
+“You know what you’re talkin’ about, Steve? You know what a hell of
+a lot o’ red tape they is about a strike these labor union days?
+Meetin’s an’ votes, an’ grievance committees, an’ strike committees,
+an’ all the head buckies in the unions buttin’ in? How do you know the
+Central would stand by us?”
+
+“I tell you everything in labor in this district will stand by you. I
+know what I’m saying. What the devil makes you so chicken-hearted and
+suspicious?”
+
+The man with the shock of red hair laid his arms on the table and
+leaned across toward Lamar.
+
+“Look here, Steve,” he said, “let’s be plain about this thing. No
+beatin’ around the bush. Do you want a strike at the Malleson?”
+
+“I want a strike at the Malleson.”
+
+“What for?”
+
+“I’ll tell you later. I’ve got a damned good reason.”
+
+The man with the red hair leaned still farther across the table, and
+spoke in a whisper.
+
+“What is there in it,” he asked, “for me?”
+
+Lamar rose, went to the door that led into the room and locked it,
+dropped the ventilating sash above it, pulled down the shade at the
+window, and resumed his seat at the table. After that the conversation
+between the two men was carried on in subdued tones.
+
+Twenty minutes later they came out into the barroom. The man who had
+given the lie to Lamar was gone. So were most of those who had heard
+him. But their places were more than filled by others who had come in.
+
+Lamar called all hands to the bar. The drinks, he said, were on him.
+
+“That’s right!” affirmed Bricky, nodding to every one. “It’s Steve’s
+treat. Say what you’ll have.”
+
+When the glasses were all filled Lamar raised his and said:
+
+“Here’s to better times and better wages!”
+
+“And to the man that brings ’em!” added Bricky.
+
+So they all drank.
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER X
+
+                         A MINISTERIAL CRISIS
+
+
+If any parishioner of Christ Church comforted himself with the thought
+that the Reverend Robert Farrar had wisely decided to forego his
+animadversions on the self-constituted privileges of wealth in the
+Church, or his appeals for social equality in the House of God, he was
+destined to experience a rude awakening. For, not only did the rector
+resume his protests and appeals from the pulpit, but he inaugurated and
+carried on a personal campaign among his people for the adoption of his
+revolutionary ideas. They were revolutionary indeed. He preached social
+justice, and Christian socialism. And while a critical analysis of his
+sermons would doubtless have failed to unearth a single unorthodox
+phrase, nevertheless he advocated a doctrine which learned commentators
+had hitherto failed to discover in the written Word of God, and which
+the pious and profound compilers of the Book of Common Prayer had
+certainly never contemplated. He dwelt much, as had been his custom,
+on the lowly origin and humble environment of the Saviour of mankind.
+He did not minimize the spiritual significance of His mission, as have
+some professed followers of the Nazarene in order that they might
+magnify Him as a social prophet. Nor had he great sympathy with those
+materialistic adherents of the Master who hold that the purpose of His
+teaching was not so much to point the way to spiritual regeneration as
+to arouse the Galilean peasants, by parable and precept, to a sense
+of their economic wrongs, and to instill into their minds a hearty
+desire to free themselves from the yoke of the Roman oppressor and
+the hard ecclesiasticism of the Jewish priesthood. He never sought to
+rob the Christ of any of the spiritual adornment or any of the divine
+attributes with which the Church from time immemorial has clothed Him.
+But he loved to dwell on His passion for the poor.
+
+The rector’s gospel of social equality was rejected and resented, or
+accepted and cherished, according to the personal view-point of those
+to whom it was presented. The parish was sharply divided. There were
+few lukewarm adherents to either side in the controversy. Those who
+were not with him were against him, and against him unequivocally. Some
+of them went so far as to request that their names be stricken from the
+parish roll. Others, less impulsive and more worldly-wise, contented
+themselves with voluntary absence from the services of the church.
+Still others, and these constituted the greater part of those opposed
+to the new régime, unwilling to forego the privileges and customs of
+many years, went, with apprehensive minds, to listen to unwelcome
+sermons, and came away troubled and depressed.
+
+But the congregations grew in size. Pews given up by former parishioners
+did not remain vacant for want of occupants. Pewholders in sympathy with
+the rector’s views doubled up with each other or threw their sittings
+open freely to the public. In one way and another room was found for all
+the common people who came and who heard gladly the new gospel that was
+being preached to them.
+
+It is true that the roll of regular supporting parishioners was not
+greatly lengthened; but the prospects were bright for many additions,
+and there was abundance of hope for large results in the future.
+
+It is true also that while the cost of caring for the newcomers in
+all the activities of church life materially increased the amount of
+necessary expenditure, the church revenues began, at the same time, to
+show a marked falling off.
+
+But these things did not greatly disturb the rector. He knew that
+his first duty was to obey the mandates of the religion in which he
+believed, and to continue his efforts to reclaim and regenerate the
+hundreds of hitherto churchless and unwelcome poor who were now turning
+tired feet toward the portals of Christ Church. Matters of finance must
+and would adjust themselves to any situation which might result from
+his efforts in this behalf.
+
+And he had defenders, plenty of them. He had helpers by the score,
+and companions by the hundred. At least two members of his vestry,
+Emberly and Hazzard, were outspoken and enthusiastic adherents to his
+cause. All of his humbler parishioners, new and old, save those few who
+chanced to be under the domination of men and families of wealth, were
+with him heartily in his crusade. Class was arrayed against class. To
+the observant and disinterested onlooker the struggle formed a most
+illuminating chapter in the record of modern sociological activity.
+
+Among his few supporters in what was considered to be the exclusive
+social set, Ruth Tracy was by far the most ardent and uncompromising.
+Here, there, everywhere, she proclaimed the righteousness and justice
+of the rector’s cause. Her faith in him was unbounded, and her faith
+was fully evidenced by her works. Her mother was scandalized, her
+father was indifferent, her lover was in despair. To seek to restrain
+from unwise and unseemly activity a woman who is actuated by religious
+motives is a delicate and dangerous task, and Westgate was not equal to
+it. He was ready to cross swords with any legal opponent, to face any
+legal proposition that might come to his office, to persuade or oppose,
+to construct or crush, as occasion might demand, but he had no skill or
+persuasion or power to turn this girl whom he loved aside from the hard
+path she had deliberately chosen. He had exhausted logic and entreaty,
+without avail. There was left to him but one recourse, and that he was
+not yet ready to adopt.
+
+One afternoon, in the heart of the city, a half dozen of the vestrymen
+of Christ Church met, informally, to discuss the situation which, in
+their judgment, had become acute. All but one of them were in favor
+of drastic action, let the action take what form it would. That one
+was Westgate. Again he appeared as a conservative. The others demanded
+that immediate steps be taken to oust the offending clergyman from
+his pulpit. Westgate pleaded for delay. He asked for a length of time
+within which he might, as a friend, approach the rector and urge upon
+him the advisability, if not the necessity, of a quiet, dignified,
+unsensational resignation, and relinquishment of his office. Since
+the night of the Tracy dinner he had abandoned any idea that he might
+have had that the clergyman would listen to reason or to good advice.
+His only hope now was that a vacancy in the pulpit might be brought
+about without a bitter and unseemly conflict. His fellow-vestrymen
+did not agree with him in his view of the case. They maintained that
+the Reverend Mr. Farrar was not entitled to so much consideration as
+Westgate proposed to show him. But they finally yielded, with the
+explicit understanding that this was to be the last proposal for peace.
+If it should not be accepted they would at once resort to hostile
+measures.
+
+Westgate was to see Mr. Farrar at the earliest opportunity, and report
+the result of his visit. But it was not until two days later that he
+was able to go forth on his unhappy mission. He found the minister at
+home. On his face, as he welcomed his visitor, there was no look of
+apprehension or surprise. He was calm, self-assured, quietly expectant.
+He appeared to know, by intuition, the purport of the call. Westgate
+indulged in no prologue, nor did he make any excuses or apologies. In
+courteous phrases, with the deep concern of a friend, he went at once
+to the heart of his errand.
+
+The rector heard him through without interruption, apparently
+unperturbed.
+
+“I cannot resign,” was his answer.
+
+“Why not?” asked Westgate.
+
+“I will tell you. In the first place it would be a tacit admission
+that I am in the wrong. I cannot admit that, for I believe that I am
+indubitably right. In the next place, to resign would be breaking faith
+with the hundreds of humble folk to whom I have promised the privileges
+of Christ Church, and who are even now, in a sense, receiving them.
+Were I to leave your pulpit they would be as sheep without a shepherd.
+I do not speak in self-aggrandizement. I simply know that no one whom
+your vestry would be likely to call to succeed me could fill, or would
+try to fill, the place which I now hold in their hearts and confidence.
+Were I to go the respect that these people now have for the Church
+would disappear, the religious sensibility that has been awakened in
+them would be destroyed, they would go back to their old, churchless,
+hopeless, irreligious life, unreconciled either to God or man. I tell
+you, Westgate, I cannot resign.”
+
+“Do you think that an interest, or even a religion based on a mere
+personal relation to a pastor, is likely to become an enduring or a
+fundamental thing in any man’s life?”
+
+“Yes; if it is accompanied and followed by conditions which make the
+gospel that is being preached to him real and satisfying.”
+
+“But you should know that the people who are flocking to Christ
+Church now are merely seeking new sensations. They are improving an
+opportunity to gratify class resentment against the rich and the
+well-to-do. They have no thought of attaching themselves permanently to
+the Church. When the novelty of the thing has worn off they are certain
+to drift away.”
+
+“You say that because you do not know them and do not believe in them.
+Give me one year to make Christ Church what I would have it to be, and
+I will show you such a permanent turning to righteousness in this city
+on the part of those who hitherto have had no use for religion, as will
+astound the unbelievers in my methods.”
+
+His face glowed and his eyes shone with enthusiasm. No one, looking on
+him in that moment, could have doubted his intense earnestness. But to
+Westgate’s practical and logical mind the rector’s words carried no
+conviction. He was still calm and deliberate as he replied:
+
+“Mr. Farrar, I did not come to argue with you concerning your theories
+or your conduct. The time for argument has passed, because your mind
+is irretrievably set. I came to make a simple request; that you should
+resign. I ask it for the good of Christ Church.”
+
+“I believe I am acting for the best good of Christ Church in refusing.”
+
+“That being your final answer there is no doubt but that the vestry as
+a body will demand your removal as rector.”
+
+The ultimatum had come at last, but it brought no surprise nor dismay.
+The rector smiled.
+
+“That announcement,” he said, “is not unexpected, nor does it disturb
+me in the least. I know what my rights are under the constitution and
+canons of the Church, and I shall seek to maintain them. I know also
+what my obligations are to the people to whom I minister, and to the
+Church to which I have made my ordination vows. Those obligations will
+not permit me either to abandon or to let myself be driven from the
+post to which God in His wisdom has seen fit to assign me.”
+
+“Then I am to carry back to the gentlemen who are associated with me
+your refusal and your defiance?”
+
+“My regret rather, and my determination. I am sorry. These men have
+been more than kind to me in the past. But――I cannot change my mind.”
+
+“Very well. I said to you once that I should oppose you openly in the
+course you were pursuing. I have done so, but I have at the same time
+tried to protect you. That protection is at an end. I say now, frankly,
+that I shall use my best effort to force you from the pulpit of this
+church, for I believe you are driving the church straight to disaster.”
+
+The rector smiled again, sadly, but his purpose was in no wise shaken.
+
+“You are kind to be so frank with me,” he said. “You have always been
+kind to me, and I have been fond of you. I shall still be fond of you,
+because I believe you to be honest and sincere, though mistaken. We may
+be adversaries; we cannot be enemies.”
+
+Westgate made no reply. He had reached a point where he could not share
+the friendly feeling of the rector. He could not be fond of a man who
+recklessly and obstinately, however conscientiously, refused to forego
+his determination to make Christ Church the forfeit in his game of
+Christian socialism. Moreover――
+
+“There is one other thing I want to speak of at this time,” said
+Westgate, “a personal matter.”
+
+Both men had risen to their feet and had been moving slowly toward the
+door of the study. The lawyer stopped and faced the minister. It was
+evident that the “personal matter” was one which lay near to his heart,
+for his face had paled and his jaws were set with determination.
+
+“It is this,” he said. “Ruth Tracy has become the chief worker for your
+cause in the parish. I assume that it has been your direct influence
+that has produced her present abnormal state of mind. She is under the
+spell of a powerful personality. She is my fiancée. I have a right
+to protect her, and to conserve my own happiness. What you have had
+power to do, you have power to undo. I ask you now to relinquish your
+control of her conscience and judgment, and to refuse to carry her
+farther with you in a course which can only lead her into deep sorrow
+and great humiliation.”
+
+The Reverend Mr. Farrar did not at once reply. A phase of the situation
+had been presented to him which had not before crossed his mind. He
+had met, and had solved to his own satisfaction, every problem in the
+controversy which he could foresee. This one was entirely new. But his
+clear vision and quick judgment went at once to the heart of it.
+
+“I have used no persuasion on Miss Tracy,” he said at last. “Her
+absorption in this crusade has been entirely due to her own innate
+sense of righteousness and of social justice. For me to seek now to
+dissuade her from any continuance in this work would be to shake her
+faith, and to discredit my own sincerity of purpose. I cannot do what
+you ask.”
+
+Westgate was annoyed. For the first time in all this unhappy controversy
+he felt that forbearance was no longer a virtue.
+
+“Then you insist,” he said, “in making selfish use of her to advance
+your own peculiar propaganda, regardless of her happiness, or her
+mother’s peace of mind, or of my rights as her affianced lover?”
+
+“I insist on giving her free rein, so far as I am concerned, to work
+out the impulses of a noble mind and heart. She has high ideals. I
+shall assist her, so far as I am able, to attain them.”
+
+“Even though in doing so you blast her happiness and wreck her life?”
+
+“That is an absurd and irreligious supposition, Westgate. I repeat that
+I shall make no attempt to dissuade her from carrying out her high
+purpose, and you, even as her affianced lover, have no right to ask it.”
+
+“I do not ask it any longer, I demand it. I demand that you, as an
+honest man, and as a minister of God, unseal that woman’s eyes that she
+may see.”
+
+“As an honest man and a minister of God I shall do all that lies in my
+power to blind her eyes to any less worthy object than the advancement
+of Christ’s Kingdom on earth.”
+
+A point had been reached beyond which words were vain. With men in whom
+the animal instinct predominates, blows would have been next in order.
+To these gentlemen it was simply apparent that the interview was at an
+end.
+
+Westgate opened the study door to pass out into the hall, but, facing
+him, blocking his way, the rector’s wife stood, white-faced and
+trembling. She had heard the high-pitched voices, the demand and the
+refusal. Unreasoning fear possessed her. She threw herself into her
+husband’s arms.
+
+“Oh, Robert!” she cried. “What awful thing has happened now?”
+
+He laid his hand on her head soothingly.
+
+“Don’t be frightened, dear. It is simply another desertion. Mr.
+Westgate definitely joins our enemies.”
+
+She looked apprehensively at Westgate, and he went up to her and took
+her hand.
+
+“I am not your enemy, Mrs. Farrar,” he said. “I never shall be.
+Whatever happens you shall have sympathy and friendship, both from my
+mother and from me, and such help and comfort as we may be permitted to
+give to you.”
+
+“Thank you, Mr. Westgate! You and your mother have always been good to
+us.”
+
+“And we shall continue to be to the best of our ability. Good-bye!”
+
+When Westgate had gone she turned again to her husband and demanded
+that he tell her what had happened. He did so. He told her plainly of
+the request for his resignation, and of his refusal to consider it.
+
+“Oh, why didn’t you do what they asked of you?” she wailed. “It would
+have been so much better than keeping up this horrid fight. I am so
+sick and tired of it. If we could only get away from this dreadful
+place!”
+
+“It’s a splendid place, Alice. It’s the field of Armageddon for us. The
+Lord’s battle is on. Would you have me branded as a deserter?”
+
+“I don’t know, Robert. I only know that I’m so miserable. If we could
+only live somewhere, in any little place, at peace, and let some one
+else do the fighting. You said, one day, that I shouldn’t have married
+a minister. It hurt me then, but I’ve thought a good deal about it
+since,――and now I know it’s true. I’m such a hopeless drag on you.”
+
+“You’re a very great comfort to me, dear.”
+
+It was not true, and he knew in his heart that it was not true; but he
+could say no less and be a Christian gentleman.
+
+“Thank you, Robert! And I’ve thought a good many times since then that
+if you only had a wife like Ruth Tracy, what a help and blessing she’d
+be to you.”
+
+This reflection of his own tenuous dream fell upon him so unexpectedly,
+struck him so gruesomely, that, for the moment, he could make no reply.
+And before he did find his tongue her thought was diverted into a new
+channel. She suddenly remembered something that she had heard at the
+door.
+
+“Oh, Robert, what woman’s eyes were they that Mr. Westgate wanted
+unsealed? Were they mine?”
+
+“No, dear, they were not yours.”
+
+“Whose then?”
+
+“Ruth Tracy’s.”
+
+She backed away a little and looked at him inquiringly.
+
+“Ruth――Tracy’s? I don’t understand. What did he mean?”
+
+“Why, he appears to think that I have cast some sort of a hypnotic
+spell over Miss Tracy to induce her to go along with me in my fight.”
+
+“That’s just what Jane Chichester says that so many people are saying.
+She told me so yesterday. They say that Miss Tracy must be hypnotized,
+the way she’s sacrificing herself in your interest.”
+
+He became a little impatient at that.
+
+“I wish you wouldn’t take so seriously what Miss Chichester says. She’s
+hardly to be depended upon where gossip is concerned.”
+
+“But you haven’t, have you, Robert? You haven’t cast any spell over
+her?”
+
+She was entirely serious. So serious that he was moved to mirth.
+
+“No,” he replied, after a moment. “I do not possess hypnotic powers.
+Whatever Miss Tracy is doing, she is doing entirely of her own free
+will.”
+
+“She has been a very great help to you, hasn’t she?”
+
+“She has been my strongest champion and ablest worker.”
+
+“If she could only have been your wife!”
+
+Many times that day and in the days that followed, his wife’s wish
+concerning Ruth Tracy crossed the rector’s mind. He did not dwell so
+much on the spirit of self-abnegation which the wish displayed as he
+did upon the contemplation of a woman like Ruth Tracy, with her steady
+helpfulness, her unfailing courage, her splendid optimism, being a part
+of his daily life. It was a gracious vision, indeed; warp and woof of
+idealism, with no thread of selfishness running through it, nor of
+disloyalty to the woman whom he had really married, and with whom he
+was still genuinely in love.
+
+Westgate went back to the gentlemen of the vestry and reported the
+result of his errand. They had the pleasure of saying, “I told you so,”
+and set about at once to consider ways and means of ridding the pulpit
+of Christ Church, in the speediest and most effective manner, of its
+ungracious and unworthy incumbent.
+
+“I am with you, gentlemen,” said Westgate, “in any action you may see
+fit to take, however drastic. The time for compromise has gone by. It
+must be a fight now to the finish.”
+
+They applauded him, and announced that they were ready to take the
+first step, and asked him what it should be. He advised them that the
+first step was the sending of a letter of information from the vestry
+to the bishop. This would require the formal action of the vestry as a
+body, the next regular meeting of which would be held the coming Friday
+evening. It was decided to bring the matter up at that time. Lest any
+charge should lie against them of unfairness or lack of good faith,
+they had a notice sent to each member of the vestry, and to the rector,
+to the effect that a resolution would be offered at that meeting having
+for its purpose an application to the ecclesiastical authority of
+the diocese for the dissolution of the pastoral relation between the
+incumbent minister and the parish of Christ Church.
+
+At the hour fixed for the meeting every member of the vestry was
+present. They were there with anxious and apprehensive minds, dreading
+yet not avoiding the issue which they knew would arise.
+
+The rector was chairman of the meeting as usual. It was his right,
+under the canons, to act as chairman. But, when the customary business
+had been disposed of, he called the senior warden, Judge Bosworth, to
+the chair.
+
+“I do this,” he explained, “in order that none of you may be embarrassed
+in any formal action you may see fit to take concerning me.”
+
+When the substitution had been made, Westgate arose and said that he
+desired to offer a resolution which he had prepared at the request of
+certain members of the vestry. His resolution, which he then read, was
+as follows:
+
+    “_Whereas_, by the XXVI article of our established religion it
+    becomes the duty of those having knowledge of the offenses of
+    ministers of the Church to present that knowledge to those in
+    authority:
+
+    “_And Whereas_, the members of this vestry believe that the
+    Reverend Robert Bruce Farrar, minister of Christ Church, has
+    violated certain canons of the Church, and certain rubrics
+    of the Book of Common Prayer, in that he has held and taught
+    publicly, privately and advisedly, doctrines contrary to those
+    held by the Church; and has officiated at the burial of the
+    dead and administered the holy communion in a manner contrary
+    to that ordered by the said rubrics:
+
+    “_Therefore, be it Resolved_ that we, the vestry of Christ
+    Church, desire a separation and dissolution of the pastoral
+    relation now existing between the said minister and the parish
+    of Christ Church, and that we present a notice in writing to
+    that effect to the Right Reverend, the Bishop of this diocese,
+    and pray his judgment accordingly.”
+
+“I move the adoption of the resolution,” said Mr. Hughes.
+
+“I second the motion,” added Mr. Cochrane.
+
+Emberly was on his feet in an instant; but before he could speak the
+rector had risen.
+
+“If my friend Mr. Emberly will pardon me,” he said, “and permit me to
+interrupt him, I desire to say that it is my preference that there
+shall be no controversy over this resolution. I am informed that a
+majority of the members of the vestry have already pledged themselves
+to its support. Argument, therefore, which might lead to harsh words
+and unfriendly thoughts, and would be a mere waste of the time occupied
+in making it, had better be avoided. However, lest there should be any
+possible doubt as to my attitude, let me say now that I deny absolutely
+the charges made against me in the preamble to this resolution, and
+that, at the proper time and in the proper place, I will defend myself
+against them.”
+
+Through the tact and good sense of the rector a scene had been avoided.
+The gentlemen of the vestry, relieved of apprehension, breathed more
+freely, and Westgate called for the question.
+
+The resolution was adopted without argument. Emberly and Hazzard were
+the only ones who voted against it, old Mr. Kay, greatly disturbed in
+mind over the unhappy affair, declining to vote.
+
+Those who had voted “aye” then attached their signatures to the
+resolution, and the next day it was forwarded to the bishop of the
+diocese for his godly consideration. When his reply came it was to
+the effect that inasmuch as he intended to make his annual visitation
+to the parish early in February, he would postpone a hearing on the
+charges until that time. What he wrote privately to the rector, if he
+wrote at all, was never disclosed.
+
+No attempt was made to keep secret the action taken by the vestry at
+the Friday evening meeting. The whole city knew of it the next morning
+and was accordingly aroused. The newspapers which, as a matter of
+journalistic policy, had fought shy of the controversy in its earlier
+stages, now blazoned forth to the public, under scare head-lines, the
+news of the climax of the trouble in Christ Church. Whenever two men of
+the parish met each other on the street, or in any business or social
+place, the matter was not only mentioned but often freely discussed.
+Women went far out of their way to gossip about it. Jane Chichester had
+not found such absorbing occupation, either for her feet or her tongue,
+in many a day.
+
+Not only the parish, but the whole city was soon divided into two
+hostile camps. Old friendships were strained, old relations were
+severed, and many a gap was opened between those who had theretofore
+walked side by side. In the barroom of the Silver Star saloon a heated
+controversy over the matter resulted in a fierce brawl, bruised bodies,
+battered faces, and a police-court episode the following day.
+
+And Mephistopheles drew his red cloak about him, concealed his cloven
+hoofs therein, sat down in the shadow of an age-old olive tree, and
+smiled in sinister content.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XI
+
+                          A ROMANTIC EPISODE
+
+
+When the rector of Christ Church learned from Ruth Tracy that the Widow
+Bradley was willing to see him, he found an early opportunity to call
+on her. She received him courteously, and listened intently to all
+that he said, but he found her even more reticent than she had been on
+the occasion of his first visit. She was, however, interested in his
+crusade for social justice in the Church and asked him many questions
+concerning it. At the conclusion of his visit she freely offered to
+him any assistance which she was capable of giving in the carrying
+on of his fight. The subject of personal religion was barely touched
+upon. The rector was too wise to force that matter upon her attention
+prematurely. But, thereafter, the Reverend Mr. Farrar had no more
+devoted adherent in the entire city than Mary Bradley, unless indeed
+it might have been Ruth Tracy herself. When Miss Tracy was informed of
+the widow’s attitude toward the conflict in the parish, she came again
+to see her and took counsel with her concerning the efforts that might
+be made among the residents of Factory Hill to awaken and further an
+interest in Christ Church and in the cause of its rector. Mrs. Bradley
+again promised her assistance and she gave it. She gave it so freely
+and so effectively that both Miss Tracy and the rector came soon to
+look upon her as one of their most valued and faithful advisers and
+helpers. But members of the socialistic body by which she was employed
+complained that her office in the Potter Building was becoming a
+headquarters for religious propaganda. Stephen Lamar suggested to
+her one day that she was hired to spread the doctrines of socialism
+and not to fight the battles of unorthodox clergymen. She laughed at
+that, and told him that when he came to a right understanding of the
+principles of his creed he would know that it all worked to the same
+end, and that to sow dissension in the churches was to advance by that
+much the social millennium. She added, moreover, that whenever the
+League considered that her services were not worth her salary, she
+would gladly relinquish her position. He made no further complaint.
+He did not again chide her, as he had done on several occasions, for
+her regular attendance on the services at Christ Church. So long as he
+discovered no particular awakening of religious sensibility on her part
+he was content thereafter to let her have her own way. As his desire
+for her increased and grew more and more imperious, his caution was
+augmented, lest by his own inadvertence he should thwart the happiness
+to which he confidently looked forward.
+
+But Mary Bradley’s work and influence in behalf of the rector of Christ
+Church and of his cause were not confined to the proletariat among whom
+she dwelt. By no means! Her position brought her into contact, not with
+wealthy people, for these rarely have any leaning toward socialism; but
+with a number of persons of intellectuality and high standing in the
+community; and among these she awakened, unobtrusively, subtly perhaps,
+an interest in if not a sympathy for the fighting rector.
+
+Barry Malleson was one of her converts. He had, all his life, been an
+attendant at Christ Church, his father was a liberal contributor to all
+of its financial needs, his mother and sisters, aristocratically pious,
+were devoted to its interests. But, under the influence and gentle
+persuasion of Mary Bradley, proletarian, agnostic, revolutionist,
+Barry Malleson was transformed from an outspoken opponent of the
+rector’s views to a warm supporter of his cause. Not that all this
+was accomplished at a single sitting. It required many interviews,
+interviews which Barry not only freely granted, but, if the truth must
+be told, interviews which he diligently sought. He was no stranger at
+socialistic headquarters in the Potter Building. Twice, at least, he
+had been seen walking on the street with the handsome secretary. He
+made no concealment of his admiration for her. It was not his nature
+to conceal anything. But, when his friends rallied him on his apparent
+conquest, he admitted that as yet the affair was a mere matter of
+personal friendship, and was largely due to a common interest with
+Mrs. Bradley in certain social problems. No one attributed to him any
+improper motive. He had the cleanest of minds. He was the farthest
+of any man in the city from being a rake. That was why the public
+regarded the situation so seriously. That was why certain mothers with
+marriageable daughters, who preferred wealth and social standing to
+brilliancy of intellect, deprecated, in sorrowful if not severe terms,
+the young man’s apparent infatuation. As for Miss Chichester, she was
+inconsolable. She had tried suggestion, persuasion, intimidation, in
+turn; but all in vain. Barry was good-naturedly obstinate. Even in the
+face of the most dreadful prognostications as to what might happen
+if he should continue his relations with the widow, he persistently
+declined to break them off. Yet, in reality, Barry had not begun
+to reach that stage in his siege of Mrs. Bradley’s heart which his
+friends gave him credit for having reached. He had spoken no word
+of love to her. He realized that her late consort had departed this
+life so recently as the last September, and that the first snow of
+winter had but lately fallen. And Barry was a gentleman. Moreover he
+had not yet been able to overcome a certain diffidence, a slowness of
+thought, a lack of fluency of speech while in her presence. He felt
+that this might be a serious drawback when the time should really come
+for love-making. For it must be admitted that Barry had taken into
+contemplation more than once a proposal of marriage to the widow, and
+the difficulties which might beset it. He could not quite understand
+his own hesitancy. Heretofore he had shown perfect self-composure in
+his association with women of all social grades. He had asked Ruth
+Tracy to marry him with as much self-assurance and ease of manner as he
+would have exhibited in asking for another cup of coffee at breakfast
+time. If Jane Chichester had appealed to his romantic fancy in the
+slightest degree, he could have proposed marriage to her without the
+quickening of a pulse or the moving of an eyelash. But the very thought
+of approaching the Widow Bradley on the subject of love and matrimony
+threw him into a fever and flutter of excitement.
+
+The gradual winning over of Barry to the rector’s cause had been
+attended with some raillery on the part of his friends, and some
+unhappy comments in his presence on the part of members of his family.
+But once persuaded he was not easily dissuaded. Not that his adherence
+to either party in the conflict was a matter of great moment. He was
+not a vestryman, he was not a communicant, he was without voice, and,
+broadly speaking, without influence in the counsels of the church,
+yet his defection was not without its bearing on the case, and he,
+himself, considered his change of attitude as being most significant
+and important. The matter of the controversy weighed heavily on his
+mind. He gave it much time and thought. On more than one occasion he
+interviewed the rector, the several vestrymen, and some of the leading
+women of the church, in a fruitless effort to bring about harmony. The
+questions that had arisen occupied his attention to the exclusion of
+more important matters. Their consideration seriously interfered with
+the due performance of the duties that had been assigned to him as
+vice-president of the Malleson Manufacturing Company, although it must
+be admitted that his neglect, if it was such, did not appear to hamper
+the corporation to any appreciable extent in the carrying on of its
+business. He knew that the resolution for the rector’s dismissal was
+to come before the vestry for action on that Friday evening. Every one
+in the city who had any interest at all in the case knew it. But there
+were few who were as greatly disturbed by the knowledge as was Barry
+Malleson. He went in the afternoon to see a majority of the vestrymen
+concerning the matter, but, with the exception of Emberly and Hazzard,
+they were all either obdurate or reticent. His protests against the
+proposed action fell generally upon stony ground. The next morning he
+picked up the morning paper and ran his eyes over the columns until
+they fell upon the brief but sensational account of the action of the
+vestry the night before.
+
+“Well,” he said, “I see they’ve done it.”
+
+It was at the breakfast table. The members of the family were gathered
+for the morning meal.
+
+“Who’s done what?” asked his sister, Miss Veloura.
+
+“Why,” was the reply, “the vestry has resolved to put Farrar out.”
+
+“It’ll be a good riddance,” was the comment of Barry’s mother.
+
+“If they could only do the same thing to Ruth Tracy,” said the elder
+sister.
+
+“And the Bradley woman,” added Miss Veloura.
+
+Mr. Malleson, the elder, ate his grapefruit and remained discreetly
+silent.
+
+“Why the Bradley woman?” asked Barry, bridling up.
+
+“Because she’s a nuisance and a nobody,” was the reply.
+
+And then little Miss Ramona, aged fifteen, who had heard some of the
+gossip of the town, rebuked her sister in this wise:
+
+“You shouldn’t say such things about Mrs. Bradley, Veloura. She may be
+your sister-in-law yet.”
+
+“Horrors!” The ejaculation came from the elder sister.
+
+“Have you made up your mind to marry her, Barry?” persisted Miss Ramona.
+
+And Barry replied doggedly:
+
+“Yes; if she’ll have me.”
+
+To describe the consternation that reigned at Mr. Malleson’s
+breakfast-table following this answer would be to give a fairly good
+illustration of the meaning of the word itself. They all knew, of
+course, that Barry was paying some attention to the widow. Knowledge of
+that fact could not well escape them. Every rich young man, however,
+was entitled to indulge in temporary aberrations of fancy, and Barry
+was indulging in his. But to have him really and seriously contemplate
+marriage with the woman! Again, “Horrors!” The family gathering broke
+up in a storm from which tears were not entirely absent, and every one
+lost his or her temper save only Barry. He never lost his temper. An
+unkind friend said of him, one day, that he had never had any temper
+to lose. When he rose from the breakfast-table he did not wait for his
+car. He put on his hat and overcoat and started down-town on foot. He
+struck into Main Street at the foot of the hill and followed it almost
+its entire length. He did not turn off in the direction of the factory,
+but went straight on until he reached the Potter Building, three blocks
+farther down. Ignoring the elevator he mounted the staircase to the
+second floor and entered the room occupied by the Socialist League as a
+headquarters. Mrs. Bradley was already there and at work. Moreover she
+was alone. When Barry came in she gave him a welcoming smile and word.
+
+“I’m glad you came,” she said. “There are two or three things about
+which I want to talk with you.”
+
+“I suppose Farrar’s case is one of them,” said Barry. “You know they’ve
+started to put him out.”
+
+“Yes, I’ve just been reading about it in the morning papers.”
+
+“So have I. That’s what I came for: to see what we’re going to do about
+it.”
+
+“Do? What can we do? They have him beaten. He may as well admit it――and
+take his medicine.”
+
+“Well, I don’t know about that. It struck me we might get up a
+petition.”
+
+“To whom?”
+
+“To the bishop. They say the whole thing is up to the bishop now.”
+
+“Who would sign it?”
+
+“Why, I thought you might get all those people on Factory Hill that go
+there to church, and I could scuttle around among his friends in the
+city――――”
+
+She interrupted him impatiently.
+
+“That would be worse than useless,” she said. “Do you think, for one
+moment, that your bishop of the Church would listen to the cry of the
+poor as against the demand of the rich? It’s preposterous!”
+
+“Well, I know the bishop. He’s a pretty good fellow. I’ve had him out
+in my car. I might go to him personally and explain matters.”
+
+She smiled at that. But she said nothing in derogation of Barry’s
+influence.
+
+“You are one man against fifty of your own class,” she remarked. “You
+could do nothing. It would be a waste of time and money to visit the
+bishop.”
+
+“But, I say, we mustn’t let Farrar get knocked out like that, and not
+do a thing to help him.”
+
+“I don’t know. I don’t know but it would be a mercy to him to withhold
+all help and encouragement. The end would come sooner. The struggle
+would not be so prolonged. The aggregate amount of pain he will suffer
+will be less.”
+
+Barry looked at her with uncomprehending eyes.
+
+“Eh?” he said. “I don’t quite get you.”
+
+“Why, they’re bound to destroy him. They’ll do it. That’s a foregone
+conclusion. It would be vastly better for him to make his peace with
+them now, to abandon his heresies along with his poor, and save himself
+from ecclesiastical annihilation. But,” and she looked beyond Barry
+into some sunlit, splendid distance, “if he does hold out, if he does
+defy them, if he does go down fighting, he’ll be a hero, like――like his
+own Jesus Christ.”
+
+The flame was in her cheeks, her eyes were burning, her muscles
+were tense with the stress of her emotion. Suddenly she changed the
+subject. She was again calm. Her voice took on its accustomed, musical,
+well-modulated tones.
+
+“There’s another thing,” she said, “about which I wanted to speak to
+you.”
+
+Barry started, as if from sleep. Apparently she could cast a spell on
+him, and waken him from it at her will.
+
+“Eh?” he replied; “how was that?”
+
+“There’s another thing,” she repeated, “about which I wanted to speak
+to you.”
+
+“What is it?” he asked.
+
+“It’s about your men. I hear they are dissatisfied with the present
+wage scale, and are going to demand concessions when the agreement
+expires in January.”
+
+“Why, I’ve heard something of the kind. But there’s no occasion for it.
+Really there isn’t. The men have a very liberal agreement. I signed it
+myself as vice-president of the company last January.”
+
+“Nevertheless the men are dissatisfied with it. They’re going to demand
+a change. The question is what are your people going to do for them?”
+
+“Why, the matter hasn’t come up. We haven’t considered it.”
+
+“Pardon me, but I think it’s time you did. Do not misunderstand me. I’m
+not a member of the Union, and I don’t represent the men in any way.
+But I’m interested in them. I feel that they’re deserving of better
+wages than they’re getting, and better conditions of labor, and that
+they ought to get those things without having to fight for them.”
+
+“But they’ve already got them, Mrs. Bradley.”
+
+“Oh, I know that’s the way you look at it, but you don’t see it from
+the men’s standpoint at all. I wish you could. I wish I could make you.
+I sympathize with them so deeply. That’s why I’m interceding for them.”
+
+“A――it’s very kind of you.”
+
+“I suppose I ought to go to your father. He’s president of the company.
+But I don’t know him. I should be afraid. I hear he’s very stern.”
+
+“Oh, not so very. That depends on how you happen to strike him.”
+
+“I wouldn’t take the chance of making a fortunate strike. But it
+occurred to me that you are vice-president of the company, and that’s
+nearly as important a position, and――and I know you.” Her eloquent
+eyes rested on Barry’s for a moment in mute appeal, and then modestly
+dropped. “You’ve been my friend,” she continued, “and my adviser. And,
+somehow, I’m not afraid to talk to you.”
+
+She looked up at him shyly, bewitchingly. When she looked up at him
+that way he never failed to lose himself completely.
+
+“Oh, that’s all right,” he assured her. “You’ve nothing to fear from
+me. I――I wouldn’t hurt you for the world.”
+
+“No,” she said, “I know you wouldn’t. I’ve always felt that you
+were perfectly”――she was going to say harmless; but she didn’t; she
+said――“unselfish. And so I thought you would let me talk to you about
+the men.”
+
+“You can talk to me about anything, Mrs. Bradley――anything.”
+
+“Thank you! Now, may I ask you what wages the men are getting?”
+
+“Certainly! All the way from a dollar sixty for the common laborer up
+to four dollars a day for the skilled workman.”
+
+“Do you call that enough?”
+
+“Why, I hadn’t thought about it. But I’m sure no better wages are paid
+anywhere.”
+
+“Perhaps not. But is it enough? Could you, for instance, live on a
+dollar sixty a day?”
+
+“But I’m not a common laborer.”
+
+“Well, then, could you live on four dollars a day, and――support a
+family?”
+
+The widow’s eyes dropped again.
+
+“I’m not a skilled workman, either,” protested Barry, waiting for the
+alluring lids to rise.
+
+“No? What are you?”
+
+“I――I’m vice-president of the company.”
+
+“You receive some compensation, I suppose, for performing the onerous
+duties of the position?”
+
+“Sure! I get four hundred dollars a month.”
+
+“Well, for the sake of argument, let us say you earn that amount. And
+let us say that Bricky Hoover, for instance, earns four dollars a day.
+Do you work any harder for your money than he works for his?”
+
+“But I work with my brains.”
+
+“Your――your what?”
+
+“My brains, Mrs. Bradley.”
+
+There was a little smile about the widow’s mouth, but Barry was both
+unsuspecting and helpless.
+
+“Oh, yes,” she responded. “Well, he works with his hands plus his
+brains, and puts in longer hours than you do besides. Why shouldn’t he
+get at least as much for his work as you do for yours?”
+
+“But you don’t consider the responsibility, the――the mental burden, the
+nervous strain, the――the wear and tear.”
+
+“Very good! Let us say then that yours is the harder job, that it is
+four times as hard as his. How would you like to change places with
+him, and have it easier?”
+
+“Mrs. Bradley! The idea!”
+
+“Well, how would you like, then, to change jobs with him, and each
+retain his own salary?”
+
+“Me? Work in the mill, like him, for four hundred dollars a month?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“I couldn’t think of it, Mrs. Bradley. Really, I couldn’t.”
+
+Barry looked down at his smooth, white hands with their well-manicured
+extremities, at his carefully creased trousers and his highly-polished
+shoes.
+
+Mrs. Bradley laughed a little, but not tantalizingly nor maliciously.
+
+“Well,” she said, “then we’ll not compel you to make the change. But,
+assuming that you work equally hard, can you give me any good reason
+why you should receive four times as much pay as he does?”
+
+“Why――why, I can’t think of any just at this moment. But there is one.
+I’m sure there is one.”
+
+“Then let’s figure the thing out a little farther. You are both men
+with hearts, brains, bodies, ambitions, desires. There is no natural
+law which gives one preference over the other. An hour of his time is
+worth as much to him, as a man, as an hour of your time is worth to
+you. An hour’s labor takes as much of his effort, strength, vitality,
+as an hour’s labor takes of yours. Why should he get one hundred
+dollars a month for what he gives to society, and you get four hundred
+dollars a month for what you give?”
+
+“Why, I――I never thought of it just that way.”
+
+“Think of it that way, Mr. Malleson. Look at it occasionally from the
+standpoint of the man who works for wages. If he works equally hard
+with you to produce the profits that your company earns, why shouldn’t
+he share equally with you in the matter of compensation for his work?”
+
+“Honestly, Mrs. Bradley, I don’t know.”
+
+“I thought you didn’t. I thought you hadn’t considered it. I wish you
+would consider it, Mr. Malleson. And when the men come to you with
+their plea or demand for better wages or conditions, especially the
+dollar sixty men, look at the matter from their standpoint, for once,
+and be fair with them.”
+
+Having concluded her appeal, she rested her elbows on the table, put
+her hands against her cheeks, and looked him through with her splendid
+eyes.
+
+Poor Barry! He had neither will nor wit nor logic to refute her
+argument or pierce the fallacy with which it was enmeshed. Indeed,
+under the spell of her eyes and voice, he felt himself drifting
+helplessly toward the shoals of that socialism which he never
+understood but always abhorred.
+
+“Mrs. Bradley,” he replied, finally, “I――I shall do my duty.”
+
+“I knew you would,” she said. “I knew you would be just and generous,
+because”――her eyes went down again――“because you have been both just
+and generous to me.”
+
+Her voice came like soft music to Barry’s ears, attuned to receive
+it. Before his eyes floated a roseate haze. And up, out of the haze,
+looming uncertainly but with great promise, he saw the shadowy outline
+of an opportunity. It came upon him so suddenly that it almost took
+away his breath. It must have been instinct or intuition; it certainly
+was not quickness of thought which led him to grasp it.
+
+“No one,” he heard himself say, “could help being just and generous to
+you.”
+
+“Why do you say that, Mr. Malleson?”
+
+“I――I don’t know.” He was beginning to flounder again. “Yes, I do.”
+There was a sudden accession of courage. “It’s because it’s true. It’s
+because you deserve it. It’s――it’s because everybody likes you.”
+
+“You are trying to flatter me, Mr. Malleson.”
+
+“No, honestly, I’m not. I mean it. I mean that you――I might say――without
+qualification――――”
+
+He was hopelessly entangled and had to stop. She came unobtrusively to
+his aid.
+
+“I think I understand you,” she said. “It’s delightful to be appreciated
+by――those whom you appreciate.”
+
+For the fourth time in ten minutes her eyes were veiled by her lashes.
+It’s a fascinating trick when the rest of the countenance is in
+complete harmony with it.
+
+The opportunity already partially grasped was taking on substance and
+a definite outline. Something whispered to Barry that he should take a
+firmer hold. He leaned across the table toward the charming secretary,
+and started in again.
+
+“A――speaking for myself,” he said, “I may say I’ve admired a good many
+women, but I’ve never admired anybody quite so much as I do you.”
+
+Well spoken, Barry! She couldn’t fail to understand that. That she did
+understand it was evidenced by the deepening flush in her cheeks, by
+the nervous tapping of her finger-tips on the surface of the table, by
+the slight tremulousness in her voice as she asked:
+
+“What is there to admire about me, Mr. Malleson?”
+
+“Your beauty, for one thing,” answered Barry promptly.
+
+“I thought I was very plain.”
+
+It is remarkable with what a clear conscience a woman can lie when she
+is deprecating what she knows to be her own charms.
+
+“But you’re not,” protested Barry. “There isn’t a woman in my set, in
+fact there isn’t a woman in the upper grade of society in this city,
+one half so handsome as you are.”
+
+Barry’s tongue was becoming loosened by his earnestness. The widow’s
+eyes narrowed a trifle, but if there was any danger behind them they
+did not reveal it.
+
+“And if that were true what advantage would it be to me,” she asked,
+“belonging as I do to the lower classes?”
+
+Barry’s answer came promptly and decisively.
+
+“It has been of advantage to you, Mrs. Bradley. It has attracted me to
+you.”
+
+She looked at him curiously.
+
+“It is not always wise or prudent,” she said, “for women belonging to
+the lower classes to attract rich and aristocratic young gentlemen to
+them.”
+
+“But I’m in earnest, Mrs. Bradley. I’m awfully in earnest. I――I must
+have you.”
+
+“Mr. Malleson!”
+
+“Pardon me! I didn’t mean it.”
+
+“Mr. Malleson!”
+
+“I mean I did mean it, but I didn’t mean it offensively.”
+
+“Oh, I’m so relieved. A woman in my station in life has to be so
+exceedingly careful of her reputation.”
+
+“That’s all right, Mrs. Bradley. I wouldn’t do a thing, or say a thing
+to in any way――to――――”
+
+“Thank you!”
+
+“And, besides, I’m honest in all this――dead honest. I mean it; really,
+I do.”
+
+There was no doubt about his earnestness. His face glowed with it. His
+hands twitched with it. Every line of the body that he bent toward her
+was eloquent with it.
+
+“Just what do you mean, Mr. Malleson?”
+
+“I――I mean that I love you.”
+
+It was out at last. No “honey-tongued Anacreon” could have said more
+to express his meaning. She sat across the table from him. She had
+taken one hand from her cheek and was pressing it against her heart.
+Her eyes were downcast. Her face was flushed with excitement. Between
+her half-parted lips her white teeth shone. Her labored respiration was
+manifest even to Barry’s untutored eyes. If Stephen Lamar had seen her
+in that moment and in that mood his impetuosity would have leaped its
+bounds. Barry was indeed fascinated but he was not propelled.
+
+She lifted her eyes slowly to his.
+
+“You――love me?” she asked.
+
+“Yes, Mrs. Bradley.”
+
+It seemed a full minute that she sat there looking at him. Finally she
+said:
+
+“Do you know what love is?”
+
+And he replied:
+
+“Why, certainly! I’m in it.”
+
+“Oh, but I mean do you really comprehend it?” And without waiting for
+a reply she went on impulsively: “Do you know how beautiful it is? how
+wonderful? how terrible? Do you?”
+
+The questions came with such force and rapidity that Barry sat stunned
+and speechless. But it was not necessary that he should answer her;
+she did not expect a reply. She turned her face away from him and
+looked out, through the one dim window of her room, on the dead-wall
+of the building that fronted on the other street. What or whom did
+she see beyond that square of tempered light that her eyes grew moist
+and tender, and her face radiant with a light that only great love
+can bring? Not Barry, indeed! He still sat speechless, motionless,
+bewildered, utterly at a loss to know what to do or to say. The silence
+was broken at last by Mrs. Bradley herself. She sighed and turned back
+toward him.
+
+“Pardon me!” she said. “I did not mean to be abrupt. And you are very
+good to tell me all this. But, you know, there are reasons why I can’t
+listen to love-making――at least not yet.”
+
+Barry awoke. His mind grasped her meaning. Her widowhood was so recent.
+She must honor it. He honored her for respecting it.
+
+“True!” he said. “I understand. I’ll wait. I was only filing a lien
+anyway.”
+
+She smiled a little at that.
+
+“Thank you!” she replied. “Now, to go back to Mr. Farrar. I’ve changed
+my mind about him. I think he ought to be encouraged, heartened,
+helped. Do it, Mr. Malleson. Do all you can for him. Get every one
+else to do everything in their power to hold up his hands in this
+splendid fight he’s making against aristocratic tyranny.”
+
+“I will, Mrs. Bradley. You can rest assured that my hat’s in the ring
+for him. I’ll go see him this morning and ask what I can do. No, I
+can’t see him this morning. I promised Jane Chichester to take her
+out in my car to Blooming Grove, and I suppose I’ve got to do it, or
+I won’t hear the end of it. But I’m with him, Mrs. Bradley, heart and
+soul.”
+
+She smiled again, and rose and gave him her hand.
+
+“Thank you so much!” she said as she permitted her hand to remain in
+his grasp. “You are a real crusader.”
+
+Barry did not know just what a crusader was, but he did know that Mrs.
+Bradley smiled on him, and looked at him out of eloquent eyes, and he
+went out from her presence with such a buoyant sensation of pride and
+happiness as, in all his life before, he had never experienced.
+
+After he had gone the secretary of the Socialist League turned again
+to her books and papers, but she did not resume her work. Instead she
+sat staring out through the dim window at the dead-wall across the
+area. What was there about a dead-wall that could, with such foreboding
+significance, so hold her gaze?
+
+A woman entered her office and interrupted her musings. She turned
+toward her visitor impatiently, but not discourteously.
+
+“I have not yet had an opportunity,” she said, in answer to the woman’s
+inquiry, “to take up your matter with the directors of the League.”
+
+“Then I hope you’ll soon find one,” was the reply. “You should know
+that it is of the utmost importance, both to your organization and to
+ours, that we should know definitely and without delay where you stand
+in the matter.”
+
+“There is no question about where we stand in the matter, Mrs.
+Dalloway. Our organization is wholly in sympathy with your movement.
+We should not be socialists if we were not. It’s one of our cardinal
+doctrines that women are entitled to equal rights with men in
+everything.”
+
+“I know it is,” replied the visitor sharply. “But theory is one thing
+and practice is another. I want to see your organization actually and
+definitely doing something for woman suffrage.”
+
+The secretary turned toward her books.
+
+“I’ll bring your matter before the board,” she said, “at the earliest
+opportunity.”
+
+“Very well. See that you do.”
+
+And the society suffragist flounced out as abruptly as she had entered.
+
+But Mrs. Bradley did not yet take up her tasks. She sat with her face
+in her hands in silent contemplation. After a little while she rose
+and began pacing up and down the floor of her office. It was apparent
+that for some reason she was greatly perturbed. Was it because Barry
+Malleson had made love to her? Poor Barry! He was as far from Mary
+Bradley’s thought in that moment as her thought was from the golden
+streets of the New Jerusalem.
+
+Finally she took down her hat and coat from the peg where they were
+hanging, put them on, and went out into the street.
+
+At the first corner she met Stephen Lamar. He was in a jocose mood.
+
+“‘Where are you going, my pretty maid?’” he asked her.
+
+“‘I’m going to school, kind sir, she said.’”
+
+“‘May I go with you, my pretty maid?’”
+
+“You would be turned out, and have to feed on grass,” she answered him.
+
+“But I would be feeding on clover while I was with you.”
+
+“Steve, I’m in no mood for pleasantries this morning. I want to be let
+alone.”
+
+“Where are you going?”
+
+“It would not be profitable for you to know.”
+
+He looked at her curiously for a moment before speaking again. Finally
+he said:
+
+“They gave your preacher a slap in the face last night.”
+
+“Yes. What are you going to do about it?”
+
+“Nothing. It’s none of my business.”
+
+“It’s the business of every fair and decent man in this city.”
+
+He bit his lip, but he did not reply in kind. He simply asked, for the
+third time:
+
+“Where are you going?”
+
+“I’m going to see Mr. Farrar.”
+
+“What for?”
+
+“To offer him my sympathy――and help.”
+
+“You’re going on a fool’s errand.”
+
+She did not resent the remark. She said quietly:
+
+“It may be, but――I’m going.”
+
+“Mary, I don’t approve of it.”
+
+“I’m not concerned about your approval.”
+
+“Have I no rights whatever?”
+
+“None that interfere with my duties.”
+
+He made no further attempt to dissuade her. He knew how utterly useless
+it would be. He contented himself with saying:
+
+“There’ll be no peace in this city till that man is a thousand miles
+away.”
+
+And she replied: “It’s war that this city needs, not peace.”
+
+He stood on the corner and watched her out of sight, but he made no
+attempt to follow her. That would have been rash and futile.
+
+Threading her way along the busy thoroughfare, she passed through the
+heart of the city and turned into a cross street. At the end of the
+second block she was in the shadow of the spire of Christ Church. Just
+beyond, across the lawn whitened by the first December snow, stood
+the rectory. Her heart began to fail her when she saw it. Her gait
+lessened; an unreasoning fear swept down upon her. It seemed to her
+that the snow on the lawn hid some tragic thing which she dared not
+pass by. She stopped, turned, and would have retraced her steps had not
+the high-pitched voice of a newsboy a block away come at that moment to
+her ears.
+
+“_Mornin’ Mail!_ All ’bout the trouble in Christ Church!”
+
+She clenched her gloved hands, faced the rectory, went up the walk,
+mounted the steps and rang the bell. A maid admitted her, announced
+her, and ushered her into the library. The rector came in from his
+study and greeted her cordially. Burdened and care-worn indeed he
+seemed to be, but not harassed nor dismayed. And when she saw that
+his faith was not dimmed nor his courage broken, the old diffidence
+came back upon her; the diffidence that always embarrassed her in his
+presence, and she could not talk. The errand she had had in mind seemed
+to have faded away.
+
+“It’s nothing much that I came for,” she said brokenly.
+
+“You do not need an errand when you come here,” he assured her. “You
+are always welcome.”
+
+“But I believe it was about what your vestry did last――night.”
+
+“They did what I have long been expecting them to do. It was no
+surprise to me.”
+
+“And I wanted to tell you that if there is anything I can possibly
+do――――”
+
+She paused, and he came to her assistance.
+
+“Thank you, Mrs. Bradley! You have already done heroic service for me.
+You have defended me in quarters where it was vitally important that I
+should not be misunderstood.”
+
+His commendation brought a new flush to her cheeks.
+
+“I want to be still more helpful,” she said. “Tell me what else to do.”
+
+He might have urged her, then, to accept his religion. The way was open
+for such an appeal, but he did not make it. It did not seem to him that
+the time was yet ripe. He simply replied:
+
+“You are more than kind. There is little that any one can do. It is a
+matter now for the bishop.”
+
+“So Barry Malleson told me. He is very much concerned about you.”
+
+“He has been very faithful. While not believing fully in my theories he
+has, nevertheless, believed fully in me, and has stood up valiantly in
+my defense. I believe I am indebted to you for that, Mrs. Bradley. I am
+told that it was you who converted him to my cause. In fact he has told
+me so himself.”
+
+“He flatters me.”
+
+“He admires you. And it is not a long road which leads from admiration
+to love.”
+
+“Why do you say that, Mr. Farrar?”
+
+“Because I want to bring you two together. Because such a friendship
+would be a practical exemplification of the doctrine I have been
+preaching.”
+
+“Mr. Farrar, my widowhood has been very recent.”
+
+“Pardon me if I have trespassed! In considering eternal verities I had
+forgotten temporal misfortunes.”
+
+“And I shall not marry again.”
+
+“Do not say that, Mrs. Bradley. You have, Providence permitting, many
+years to live. It is not quite meet that you should pass them in
+loneliness.”
+
+“To marry, one must first love.”
+
+“That’s very true.”
+
+“And I――I must love――blindly!”
+
+She brought out the word with desperate, yearning emphasis.
+
+“And may you not love blindly?” he asked.
+
+He could not fathom, at that moment, the mystery that lay back of her
+marvelous, grief-burdened eyes; but, long afterward, he remembered the
+way she looked upon him, and then he knew.
+
+“God forbid!” she cried. Then, suddenly, the incongruity, the boldness,
+the unwomanliness of what she had been saying flashed upon her, and she
+covered her face with her hands. Seeing how great was her perturbation
+he sought to soothe her.
+
+“Never mind!” he said; “we’ll not discuss it any more now. Some other
+time perhaps.”
+
+She took her hands down from her eyes.
+
+“No, not any other time,” she declared. “Not ever again. I can’t――bear
+it.”
+
+“As you wish. I’m so sorry to have distressed you. And you came to
+comfort me, and to offer help.”
+
+“I still offer it.”
+
+“And the time will come when you shall give it in even greater
+abundance than you have given it in the past.”
+
+She had already risen to go, and she took his proffered hand. His grasp
+was so firm and strong and friendly――and lingering. The door of the
+rectory closed behind her, and with colorless face and mist-covered
+eyes she groped her way to the street.
+
+As she turned into the main thoroughfare she saw the Malleson car go
+by, and in it were Barry and Jane Chichester, each in a fur coat, bound
+presumably for Blooming Grove.
+
+But Mary Bradley walked back to the Potter Building, to the narrow,
+second floor rear room which constituted the office of the Socialist
+League, hung her plain hat and coat on their accustomed peg, took out
+her books and papers, and applied herself to her tasks.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XII
+
+                          THE FIRST CALAMITY
+
+
+Three days after the vestry meeting at which the resolution of
+dismissal was adopted, Westgate received a note from his fiancée asking
+him to call that evening. He was not slow to read between the lines
+of her message the fact that she desired to talk with him about the
+Farrar case. From the day of their Sunday walk the preceding September
+their differences concerning the trouble in the church had grown ever
+greater. The matter had been discussed between them many times and
+with great frankness, but of late the discussions had not been marked
+by that intimacy of feeling which had before characterized them. The
+controversy had not been unfriendly, but it had been fruitless and
+deadening. Nor was there any longer any hope of a reconciliation
+of opinion. While Ruth became more and more deeply absorbed in the
+regeneration of the church after the manner advocated by its rector,
+and gave increasingly of her time and ability to the crusade, Westgate,
+on the contrary, became more thoroughly convinced that the entire
+scheme was Utopian, impractical and visionary, and must end in disaster
+to the church, and in eventual defeat and humiliation for those who
+were engaged in it. To both of the lovers the situation was poignant
+and extreme. Westgate felt it the most deeply because for him there
+were no compensations. He had not the spiritual absorption in the
+contest that would lead to a certain satisfaction of the soul whether
+it were won or lost. His interest was simply that of a man convinced of
+the mighty economic value of the Church to the community, and willing
+to fight for its integrity. To win his fight and thereby lose his
+sweetheart would be an empty and a bitter victory. To yield his honest
+convictions and play the hypocrite in order to retain her confidence
+and love would be cowardly and base. In no direction could he see light
+or hope. But with Ruth the case was different. Filled with religious
+zeal she was fighting for an ideal. That in itself was soul-satisfying.
+Even out of defeat would spring joy that she had fought. Her lover’s
+approval, even his affection, was not a _sine qua non_ to her. His
+image in her heart was often overshadowed by her absorption in the
+struggle for new life in the Church. The heroic figure of her rector,
+battling against odds, with splendid confidence in the justice of his
+cause, loomed ever larger in her mind as she went forth with him into
+the thick of the contest. Not that she was in any way disloyal to her
+lover. He was still her heart’s high choice. But a greater thing than
+human love had entered her soul, a thing that called for sacrifice
+and sharp self-denial, even to the breaking, if necessary, of earth’s
+dearest ties.
+
+Westgate knew all this, so it was with no anticipation of a joyful
+meeting that he called upon her in response to her request.
+
+There was no lack of cordiality in her greeting, but her face bore a
+look of determination that he had not often seen there. She did not
+waste time in explaining the purpose of her request.
+
+“I asked you to come,” she said, “because I have learned that it was
+you who prepared and offered the resolution in the vestry meeting
+calling for the dismissal of the rector.”
+
+“It was I,” he replied.
+
+“And I wanted to know whether you acted solely in the belief that it
+would be for the good of the church to have him go, or whether you were
+actuated by some other motive.”
+
+“I will tell you frankly. I had two motives for my conduct. In the
+first place I believed, and still believe, that I was acting for the
+best interests of Christ Church. In the second place it is my desire to
+secure Mr. Farrar’s removal from this community so that you shall be
+outside the sphere of his influence.”
+
+“Why do you wish that?”
+
+She did not seem to be surprised or vexed at the outspoken declaration
+of his purpose.
+
+“Because,” he replied, “I want to give you an opportunity to be
+restored to mental health; and I want to give myself an opportunity to
+regain so much of your confidence and affection as I have already lost.”
+
+“If it were true that you had lost them, Philip, would it not be your
+own fault?”
+
+“No. I place the blame wholly on this man who has influenced you to my
+detriment.”
+
+“You misjudge him, Philip, and you misunderstand me. I have not been
+overpersuaded, and I am not abnormal. If it were true that I have lost
+my mental balance, and if you wanted to restore it, you have gone about
+it in quite the wrong way. To attempt to shatter a cause on which my
+heart is set, and to initiate a movement to discredit and disgrace the
+bravest and most high-souled and far-seeing man that ever preached the
+gospel of Christ from any pulpit in this city; that is not the way to
+quiet my mind, or to retain my confidence and affection.”
+
+She said it with determination, but not in anger, for her eyes were
+moist and her lip was trembling.
+
+He, man that he was, was not able to hold himself in quite so complete
+control.
+
+“Listen, Ruth!” he exclaimed. “This man who is now your ideal will some
+day be shattered into his original elements. Of this I have no doubt.
+If he will then remake himself on sound principles, there will still
+be in him vast possibilities for good. As it is, he is a menace to the
+Church and a destroyer of human happiness. Pardon me, but I cannot
+look with equanimity on such a situation as faces me to-night.”
+
+“And it is a situation that is not necessary. It is all so very sad
+because it is so very unnecessary.”
+
+“What do you mean by that, Ruth?”
+
+“I mean that if you would only see these things as I do; they are so
+perfectly plain; if you would only join me in this work; it is so
+inspiring; you would be such a help, such a power, a man to be honored
+and idealized. Oh, Philip! If I have loved you before, I would worship
+you then!”
+
+She leaned toward him with clasped hands, flushed face, eyes that were
+burdened with yearning. He went over to her and put his arm about her
+shoulder as she sat.
+
+“You are tempting me, Ruth. You know that I would give up everything
+that an honest man could give up for your sake. But if I were to
+stultify myself you would only despise me in the end.”
+
+“That is true, Philip. Whatever you do must be done in sincerity. You
+must believe in the cause.”
+
+“And that is so utterly impossible.”
+
+“And so grievously sad.”
+
+She sighed, and folded her hands in her lap, and looked away into
+immaterial distance. After a moment she added:
+
+“But at least it is not necessary that you should openly and
+aggressively join Mr. Farrar’s enemies.”
+
+“I should be less than a man,” he replied, “to hold the opinions that I
+do and fail to oppose both him and his destructive schemes.”
+
+“And you are determined to crush him if you can?”
+
+“I am determined to put an end, if possible, to his mischievous
+activities in this parish. No other course is open to me.”
+
+She lifted Westgate’s arm from her shoulder, rose, crossed over to the
+window, held back the curtain, and looked out into the night. When she
+turned back into the room it was apparent, from the look on her face,
+that her resolution was fixed.
+
+“Philip,” she said, “I believe it will be better for both of us to
+break our engagement to marry.”
+
+“Ruth, you are beside yourself!”
+
+“No; I am quite sane, and I am very much in earnest. I have thought it
+all out, and I have made up my mind. We are better apart. I release
+you from any obligation on your part; I want to be released from any
+obligation on mine.”
+
+“Ruth! I can’t do that. It’s not necessary. It’s absurd! Within the
+next six months this trouble will all have blown over. Must I do
+without you for a lifetime because of a flurry like this?”
+
+He went toward her and would have taken her hands in his, but she moved
+away from him.
+
+“No, Philip, it’s not absurd. This trouble, as you say, may all have
+gone by in six months; but that doesn’t matter. I am convinced to-night
+that we are so――so fundamentally different; so diametrically opposed
+to each other in all of our ideals concerning those things which are
+really worth while, that there never could be any harmony between us,
+never. It is fortunate that we have discovered it in time.”
+
+“Ah, but you mistake the true basis for harmony. It doesn’t lie in
+having the same religious beliefs, or even in having the same ethical
+ideals. It lies in――――”
+
+“Please don’t, Philip! You only hurt me; and it’s useless. My mind is
+completely made up, and I want to end it――now.”
+
+He looked at her for a long time without answering. He was debating
+with himself. Perhaps, after all, she was right. Perhaps it would be
+wise to give her rein to-night, to release her from her promise, and to
+win her back when she should be disillusioned, as in time she surely
+would be. And yet he could not quite bring himself to the point of
+yielding. His silence filled her with apprehension. She looked at him
+with frightened eyes.
+
+“Philip,” she pleaded, “if you have ever loved me, you will let me go
+free.”
+
+Still he did not answer her.
+
+“Philip! I demand it. It is my right as a woman.”
+
+“Very well. I submit. I will not hold you against your will. You are
+free.”
+
+She went up to him then and took both his hands in hers.
+
+“Thank you, dear!” she said. “You are so good. You were always good to
+me. You have never been kinder to me than you have been to-night. You
+have never been dearer to me than you are at this moment.”
+
+Holding his hands thus she lifted her face to his and kissed him.
+
+Buffeting the wind and snow as he journeyed homeward that night,
+Westgate thought little of the December blasts. His mind was filled
+with the tragic climax of his one great love. He knew that she looked
+upon her act as irrevocable, as the definite parting of ways that
+would never again be joined, and that he had no right to consider it
+otherwise. But, out of the clouds and darkness that surrounded him, one
+momentous fact thrust itself in upon his memory: in the midst of her
+cruelty to him she had kissed him. She had not declared that she would
+be his friend; she had not hoped that he would be happy; she had not
+promised to pray for him; she had not said any of the inane things that
+most girls feel it incumbent on them to say on such occasions, and for
+that he was duly grateful; but――she had kissed him.
+
+The breaking of the engagement between Westgate and Ruth Tracy was more
+than a nine days’ wonder. As the fact became known, and no attempt was
+made to conceal it, the parish was stirred anew. Every one surmised
+correctly the causes that had led to it, and all were agreed that it
+was a most unfortunate ending to an ideal romance. Ruth’s mother, when
+she was told of it, collapsed. For three days she housed herself and
+was inconsolable. She had grown to be very fond of Westgate. And for
+once Ruth’s father dropped his reticence, and expressed himself in
+language which, though fluent, was not quite fit for Ruth to listen
+to, and certainly would have been entirely inappropriate for public
+repetition. For he, too, was fond of his junior partner, he had great
+respect for the young man’s proved ability, and he had looked forward
+with intense satisfaction to his coming marriage with Ruth.
+
+By no one was the news of the broken engagement received with approval,
+unless, possibly, by the rector of Christ Church. Not that he was
+indifferent to the disappointment or suffering of others; by no means.
+But the separation cleared the way for Ruth’s progress toward higher
+realms of Christian service. It would permit her to give her undivided
+allegiance to the work in which he himself was so vitally interested.
+That it was a selfish consideration on his part did not occur to
+him. That the event was the first logical calamity, the first tragic
+result of an ill-considered crusade, or that it was the forerunner of
+still more tragic events which the future was bound to bring, never
+once crossed his mind. One of his former friends, commenting on the
+minister’s failure to see the trend of circumstances, said that the man
+was living in a fool’s paradise.
+
+But the fact of the breaking of the engagement was food and drink to
+Jane Chichester. Not that she personally had anything at stake. But she
+loved a sensation. She would almost have given her chance of salvation
+to have heard the conversation between Westgate and Ruth on the night
+of the separation. From every one whom she met, either by chance or
+design, she gleaned what information she could concerning the unhappy
+event; and, not even then filled to repletion, she resolved to call at
+the first decent opportunity on Ruth herself, and learn at first hand,
+if possible, the intimate details of the tragedy. Mary Bradley too was
+interested; and not only interested but deeply concerned. Not that she
+deprecated the breaking of the engagement. Quite the contrary. She had
+never felt that a woman with Ruth Tracy’s ideals could be happy with a
+man like Westgate, apostle of conservatism, pledged to the perpetuation
+of the present iron-clad social order, a man toward whom her resentment
+had never waned since the day he had compassed her defeat in a court
+of law. But for Miss Tracy she had an ever-growing respect, and
+admiration, and fondness. While she regarded her as still bound, in a
+way, by religious superstition, and the conventions of society, she
+nevertheless gave her credit for having noble aspirations, and for
+seeking by every possible means to realize them. And especially did she
+give her credit for having cast off such a drag on her ambitions as
+Westgate was and always would have been. It was a fine and courageous
+thing to do, and more fine and courageous because she undoubtedly
+loved him. Mary Bradley felt that she wanted to tell her so; that she
+wanted to give her a word of encouragement and comfort and hope. In
+spite of many invitations from Ruth to do so, she had never yet called
+at the Tracy house. She had felt that such action would be not quite
+consistent, either with her social position or her present vocation.
+But the time had come now to cast these considerations aside, to visit
+Ruth Tracy in her home, to invade the precincts of aristocracy and
+conservatism, and carry courage and comfort to the “prisoner of hope”
+environed there by subtle and antagonistic forces.
+
+So, one cold, clear December afternoon, she made her way to the
+unfamiliar neighborhood of Fountain Park. It was the same afternoon
+that Jane Chichester had chosen for her call on Ruth. Miss Chichester
+had found her intended victim at home, and had sought, by various
+artifices, to draw from her the true story of the breaking of the
+engagement. But Ruth either did not or would not understand her
+visitor’s desire, and the probability was each minute growing stronger
+that Miss Chichester would depart entirely barren of the information
+which she had come to secure. It was at this juncture that Mrs. Bradley
+was announced. Miss Chichester caught the name.
+
+“Good heavens!” she exclaimed, in a stage whisper; “is it that
+socialist widow?”
+
+Miss Tracy nodded.
+
+“Then, for goodness’ sake, let me escape.”
+
+“No, Jane, you stay right where you are.”
+
+By this time the maid was ushering the visitor into the presence of
+the other two women. It was not pleasing to Mary Bradley to find
+Miss Chichester there. The fact would interfere with if it did not
+entirely destroy the purpose of her errand. But she manifested neither
+surprise nor disappointment. She entered the room, not with as much
+grace, perhaps, but certainly with as much ease and composure as
+though she had all her life been accustomed to making her entry into
+drawing-rooms. She was received cordially by Ruth who was sincerely
+glad to see her, and coldly by Miss Chichester who would much rather
+have seen any one else in the city. There was some casual conversation,
+in which Miss Chichester only incidentally joined, and then, possibly
+through inadvertence, possibly by design, the action of the vestry in
+demanding the dismissal of the rector was referred to.
+
+“I know you don’t agree with me, Ruth,” said Miss Chichester, “but, in
+my opinion, we shall never have peace in the parish till that man goes.”
+
+“And in my opinion,” responded Ruth, “we shall never have righteousness
+nor real happiness in the parish until the church as a body accepts his
+views. What do you think, Mrs. Bradley?”
+
+“I quite agree with you,” replied the widow, quietly.
+
+Miss Chichester would have taken anything from Ruth Tracy in the way
+of verbal opposition, without a shadow of resentment; but to be openly
+antagonized by this person who had presumed to force herself socially
+into one of the most exclusive drawing-rooms on the hill――she could not
+listen and hold herself completely in abeyance. However, she ignored
+the widow and addressed her forthcoming remark exclusively to Ruth.
+
+“I should think, my dear,” she said, “that with the sad experience you
+have recently had, which everybody says was a direct result of the
+trouble Mr. Farrar has got the church into, you would hesitate about
+believing that either righteousness or happiness could result from his
+schemes.”
+
+A flush came into Mrs. Bradley’s cheeks, but she held her peace.
+She well knew that Miss Tracy was fully capable of fighting her
+own battles. Ruth showed no sign of resentment. Her face had paled
+slightly, but she spoke without feeling or excitement.
+
+“You must remember, Jane,” she said, “that, where one person may have
+suffered because of the upheaval in the church, a hundred have found
+hope and satisfaction in the gospel that is being preached to them.”
+
+“Oh,” retorted Miss Chichester, “those people that come to church
+nowadays are merely sensation hunters. They come, and listen, and
+smack their lips, and go away just as irreligious and atheistic and
+destructive as they were before they came. Those are largely the kind
+of people who are encouraging Mr. Farrar to make this fight. Of course,
+I don’t include you, dear.”
+
+“You include me, perhaps?” Mrs. Bradley smiled as she asked the
+question, and her white teeth shone.
+
+“There’s an old saying,” replied Miss Chichester, “to this effect: ‘If
+the shoe fits, put it on.’”
+
+Mrs. Bradley laughed outright; not meanly, but merrily.
+
+“I think it fits,” she replied.
+
+“Moreover,” continued Miss Chichester, her temper rising with every
+word, “a scheme like Mr. Farrar’s, that encourages people of no
+standing whatever to attempt to break into good society, and to seek
+companionship with our best young men, is a scheme that ought to be
+crushed.”
+
+It was perfectly apparent that after that declaration no _entente
+cordiale_ could be either established or maintained among the three
+women present. Ruth looked worried, Mrs. Bradley bit her lip and did
+not answer, and Miss Chichester, after a moment of uncertainty, rose to
+go. She turned to Ruth.
+
+“I’m so sorry for you, dear,” she said, “even if it is all your own
+fault. I know how to sympathize with you, because my own heart is
+almost broken.”
+
+She gave her eyes a dab or two with her handkerchief, said good-bye to
+Ruth, ignored Mrs. Bradley, and departed.
+
+“I’m extremely sorry,” said the remaining guest, when the door had
+closed behind the first visitor, “to have come here and made trouble.”
+
+“Oh,” replied Ruth, “I don’t mind Miss Chichester. I have always known
+her. What worries me is that you may have taken her too seriously. You
+don’t know, as I do, that her heart is so much better than her tongue.”
+
+“I think most people are really better than they seem. But Miss
+Chichester appears to have a deep personal grievance against me. I have
+heard of it before this. I don’t fully understand it.”
+
+“Jane thinks you are trenching on her preserves.”
+
+“In the matter of Barry Malleson?”
+
+“I believe so.”
+
+“Is she engaged to be married to him?”
+
+“She says she is not, but she thinks she might be if it were not for
+your alluring influence over him.”
+
+Mrs. Bradley laughed a little before she replied.
+
+“Poor Mr. Malleson! To be so beset. But if Miss Chichester is not
+engaged to him I do not see that I owe her anything.” She turned
+suddenly to her hostess. “Miss Tracy, would you think it my duty to
+forbid Mr. Malleson to see me?”
+
+“I don’t know why it should be. Do you?”
+
+“No. Only that I’m not in his class, that I have nothing against him,
+that he appears to be an extremely well-intentioned young man, and that
+his association with me, slight as it has been, has already subjected
+him to much criticism.”
+
+“Those are not good reasons, Mrs. Bradley. Barry cares nothing for
+criticism. The fact that he is well-intentioned prevents any unjust
+reflections upon you. And, so far as I am concerned, I should be
+delighted to see you become intensely and permanently interested in
+each other. As I view the matter, in the light of my present beliefs, I
+think it is just such relationships that modern society needs for its
+regeneration.”
+
+“Thank you! That is practically what Mr. Farrar said to me.”
+
+“Did he talk with you about Barry?”
+
+“Incidentally.”
+
+“And he approved of Barry’s interest in you?”
+
+“He appeared to.”
+
+“I hope you will follow his advice, Mrs. Bradley.”
+
+But Mrs. Bradley evidently did not care to continue the discussion
+of this particular subject. At any rate she changed the topic of
+conversation abruptly by saying:
+
+“I came to tell you how brave and wise I think you are, Miss Tracy.”
+
+Ruth looked up questioningly, and her visitor continued:
+
+“I mean in the matter of breaking your engagement. I don’t want to
+intrude into your personal affairs, but I felt that I must tell you how
+greatly I admire your courage.”
+
+“You are very kind.”
+
+“So many of us choose the easiest way, the most delightful path. It
+is splendid once in a while to see a woman govern her conduct by
+high principles and a stern sense of duty, though it requires great
+sacrifice.”
+
+“I appreciate what you say, though I am not fully deserving of your
+commendation. I cannot feel that the sacrifice was so very great on my
+part, but I am intensely sorry for him. He is so sincere and good.”
+
+“You mean Mr. Westgate?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“I have no sympathy――――” she checked herself suddenly and then added:
+“We’ll not talk about it any more. I simply felt that if I could say
+but one word that would give you the least bit of courage and hope, I
+wanted to say it.”
+
+“You have cheered and encouraged me.”
+
+“Thank you! Now let’s talk about something else.”
+
+When Mrs. Bradley chose to talk she was an interesting and entertaining
+talker. And she was in a talkative mood to-day. The conversation having
+turned on her own vocation, she told about her present work, and about
+the ambitions and ideals of the socialistic group with which she was
+connected. Mentally alert, and eager to hear and to read, she had
+readily imbibed and easily assimilated the doctrines of the school of
+Marx and Bebel, and their more vigorous if less illustrious followers.
+These doctrines appealed to her reason and to her sense of social
+justice. She rejoiced in the effort to raise the economic level of the
+working class, and, by the same token, to drag down those pompous ones
+who ruled by reason of unjust wealth. She believed in the necessity for
+revolutionizing the social order. It was a part of her work to sow the
+seeds of such a revolution, and she explained by what methods that work
+was accomplished. Miss Tracy was not only interested in the recital,
+she was fascinated. The story was dramatic and absorbing.
+
+“But,” she said finally, “you must in some way, Mrs. Bradley, connect
+it up with religion, or it will come to naught in the end.”
+
+“I am not so sure of that,” was the reply. “I’ve been studying on that
+part of it, and reading what little I can find to read, and listening,
+too, whenever I can hear it talked about.”
+
+“I am sure you must get great help from Mr. Farrar’s sermons. I’m so
+glad to see you in church every Sunday morning.”
+
+“Yes; I come quite regularly. I’m always interested in the sermon.”
+
+“Mr. Farrar is very grateful to you for giving him such splendid
+assistance in his fight.”
+
+“I try to help him. I think he’s a very wise and good man.”
+
+“He is, indeed. You can rest assured of that.”
+
+“And being so wise and good he deserves to be very happy.”
+
+“I think he almost glories in this warfare for righteousness.”
+
+“He should be happy and satisfied in all of his relations in order to
+do his best work.”
+
+“I presume he is thus happy and satisfied.”
+
+“I don’t know. I’ve been told that his wife is not in sympathy with
+him; that she doesn’t understand him and doesn’t appreciate him. If
+that is so it’s a pitiful situation.”
+
+“If it is so, it is certainly unfortunate, but I do not quite credit
+that story.”
+
+Mrs. Bradley went on as though she had not heard.
+
+“A man such as he is ought to have a wife of the same mind with him.
+She ought to be one with him in everything. She ought to give herself
+up completely to him and to his work. And she would have a rich reward,
+because I believe such a man as he is could love intensely.”
+
+She had been looking away into some glowing distance as she spoke, but
+now she turned her eyes full upon her hostess.
+
+“I have known of marriages like that,” she said, “and they have been
+perfect; perfect, such as your marriage to Mr. Westgate never could
+have been; such as your marriage, some day, to some other man must
+be, for you deserve it, and you must have it. A woman who loses an
+experience like that loses the better part of her life.”
+
+She spoke with such intense earnestness that her listener was startled,
+and hardly knew how to reply. There was a moment’s pause and then Ruth
+said, feeling even while she said it that she was saying the wrong
+thing:
+
+“I suppose your own experience as a wife leads you to say that, Mrs.
+Bradley.”
+
+“My own experience? Oh, no! My own marriage was a very commonplace
+affair. People who are as poor as we were, always hard at work,
+straining to make both ends meet, have little time for love-making.
+Besides, my husband was not a man for any woman to idolize.”
+
+If Ruth was surprised at this frank avowal, she succeeded in concealing
+her surprise. It occurred to her that possibly the woman was primitive,
+and that her finer sensibilities had not yet been fully developed. But
+that she was genuine and well-intentioned there could be no doubt.
+
+“That was unfortunate,” replied Ruth. “Every marriage should have for
+its basis mutual and whole-souled affection.”
+
+“Yes. That is true. I neither received it, nor had it. And I feel,
+somehow――it was my fault of course, for I didn’t have to marry him――but
+I feel somehow as if I’d been robbed of that to which every woman is
+entitled.”
+
+It was a delicate subject, and Ruth hardly knew how to handle it. But a
+thought came into her mind and she gave expression to it.
+
+“It’s not too late yet for you to have that experience, Mrs. Bradley. I
+am sure your heart can still be profoundly stirred by some great love.”
+
+“Oh, I know that, Miss Tracy. I know that. But to love without being
+loved in return――that’s torture; it’s not happiness.”
+
+“And why shouldn’t you be loved in return?”
+
+“I don’t know. Oh, I don’t know. Do you think, do you imagine, by the
+wildest stretch of hope and fancy do you conceive it to be possible
+that my love should be returned?”
+
+She had risen to her feet. Her voice was tremulous with excitement. Her
+eyes had in them that appealing look that had pierced to the depth of
+Barry Malleson’s heart. But she did not wait for Miss Tracy to answer
+her. She turned abruptly toward the door.
+
+“I must go now,” she said. “It’s already dusk. And it’s a long way
+home.”
+
+When she reached the hall she faced about. There was something she
+still wanted to say.
+
+“Don’t take it to heart, Miss Tracy. Your own broken romance, I mean.
+He was never the man for you. You have ideals. He has none. There are a
+thousand women with whom he will be just as well satisfied as he would
+have been with you. But for you there is but one man in all the world.
+And when he comes to you you will know him, and you will love him, and
+you will be supremely, oh, supremely happy. For there’s nothing so
+beautiful, so wonderful, so heavenly in a woman’s life as this love for
+the one man, if only he loves her.”
+
+That it came from her heart as well as from her lips, this message of
+hope and comfort, there could be no shadow of doubt. Her eyes were
+full of it, her countenance was aglow with it. But what lay back of
+it in her own life’s experience that should give it such eloquent and
+passionate voice?
+
+Before Ruth could recover sufficiently from her surprise to reply
+intelligently the woman had said good-bye and was gone. She hurried
+down the pavement in the December dusk, looking neither to the right
+nor left. The night was cold, the air was frosty, the stars were
+beginning to show in the clear sky. At the corner of Grove Street and
+Fountain Lane Stephen Lamar met her. He came upon her suddenly and she
+was startled.
+
+“You shouldn’t have frightened me so,” she said.
+
+“I was waiting for you,” he replied. “I knew you were in the Tracy
+house.”
+
+“How did you know it?”
+
+“A socialist friend of mine saw you go in and told me.”
+
+“And what business was it of your socialist friend where I went?”
+
+“To speak frankly, Mary, they don’t like your consorting so freely with
+people of that class: this Tracy girl, and the fighting parson, and
+half-baked young Malleson and others of that ilk.”
+
+“I’ve told you before, Steve, that when your crowd wants my job they
+can have it. I’ll get out any day. But――I shall choose my own friends.”
+
+“They don’t want you to throw up your job. In fact you’re
+indispensable. But it’s because you are so important that your
+association with these people is injurious to the cause.”
+
+She half stopped and faced him.
+
+“Steve,” she said, “why did you come up here to meet me?”
+
+It was such an abrupt breaking off of the former topic of conversation
+that Lamar replied awkwardly:
+
+“Why, I――I wanted to tell you this.”
+
+“What else did you want to tell me?”
+
+“I wanted to tell you that I heard to-day that you are likely to
+marry young Malleson. He’s been asked if there’s an engagement, and
+he doesn’t deny it. The thing has got on my nerves. I felt that I
+couldn’t sleep without getting an assurance from you that there’s
+nothing in it.”
+
+“Let me see. I told you once that if you would do something for me you
+should have your reward.”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“And you haven’t done it.”
+
+“The job is under way. You can’t do a thing of that kind in a day. The
+agreement with the men expired less than a week ago.”
+
+“You think you will bring what I wish to pass?”
+
+“I surely do.”
+
+“Then you needn’t be afraid of Barry Malleson. A thousand of his kind
+will not keep your reward from you.”
+
+“Thank you, Mary. I knew all along that you were only pulling the wool
+over his eyes, but this infernal story to-day got me going.”
+
+“Dismiss it from your mind. How far are you going to walk with me?”
+
+“To Main Street. I promised to meet Bricky Hoover at the Silver Star at
+half-past five.”
+
+“Good! I shall take a car from there to the foot of Factory Hill.”
+
+An automobile turned the corner slowly within three feet of them as
+they walked. A woman, sitting alone in the tonneau, looked out at them
+sharply, and turned her head to watch them as she went by. It was Miss
+Chichester. They both recognized her.
+
+“A friend of yours,” said Lamar.
+
+“A friend of a friend of mine,” was the reply. “She has found a new
+reason for poisoning his mind concerning me.”
+
+“What is that?”
+
+“I have been seen walking with Steve Lamar on a secluded street after
+nightfall.”
+
+He laughed. “That is indeed an offense,” he said. “Let us do something
+that will enlarge it into a scandal.”
+
+“For instance?”
+
+“I might kiss you when I leave you at the corner.”
+
+She turned toward him as she walked.
+
+“Do you remember,” she asked him, “that story of Judas who betrayed his
+Master with a kiss?”
+
+“From the Christian fable? Yes.”
+
+“Well, the man whom I kiss is marked for swift destruction.”
+
+“I would suffer the penalty and rejoice in it.”
+
+“You are not the man.”
+
+She stopped abruptly at the crossing, said good-night to him, and
+turned away before he could recover from the shock of his surprise. It
+was not the first time she had closed a conversation with him suddenly
+and left him mystified, and wondering at the meaning of her words. He
+stood on the corner and watched her out of sight, and then, with mind
+ill at ease, he turned in at the Silver Star.
+
+Mary Bradley hurried on down Main Street, but she did not take a car.
+She was in a mood for walking, cold as the night was. At the first
+corner she turned, went a block to the west, and thence followed a
+residence street running parallel with Main. It was not yet six o’clock
+but the street was practically deserted. It was a good neighborhood,
+however, and she was not timid. Both Hazzard and Emberly, vestrymen of
+Christ Church, lived on this street. She knew the Emberly house in the
+next block. As she approached it a man descended the steps of it and
+started away in the direction in which she was going. She thought, as
+she saw him in the shadow, that it was Lamar. He was of nearly the same
+height, build and carriage, and it was easy for her to be mistaken.
+But when, instinctively, he turned his face back toward her, feeling
+that some one was following him whom he knew, she saw at once that it
+was the rector of Christ Church. He waited until she reached him, and
+they walked on together. He too was going in the direction of Factory
+Hill. A sick call which he had been prevented all the afternoon from
+reaching, must be made before dinner time. He was in a cheerful mood.
+Emberly had given him encouraging news. He told it to Mrs. Bradley as
+they went along. But, for some reason which he could not understand,
+she was more than usually reticent, and when she spoke it was in
+monosyllables. It was not a sullen reticence, but rather a physical
+inability, as though she were laboring for breath. Five blocks farther
+down she said:
+
+“I turn here and cross the foot-bridge. It’s much nearer for me.”
+
+“I will go with you,” he replied.
+
+“But it will take you out of your way.”
+
+“It doesn’t matter. Besides, it’s an unfrequented route, and you
+shouldn’t go alone at this hour.”
+
+She made no further objection, and he turned with her, and they came
+presently to the end of the foot-bridge. It was a suspension bridge,
+narrow and unstable, swung across the gorge above the Malleson mills to
+accommodate employees of that concern. The wire cables that supported
+it hung so low that at the center they were scarcely knee-high above
+the floor, and that was covered with ice. It rocked and swayed with
+them as they walked upon it. Before they were half-way across Mary
+Bradley’s foot slipped. She sank to her knee and would have fallen over
+the side of the bridge had not the minister caught her, flung his arm
+around her waist and helped her to her feet.
+
+“You’re not hurt?” he asked.
+
+“No――except――my ankle.”
+
+She was trembling with fright, and, when she tried to move on, the
+weakness of her injured foot made the attempt too hazardous and she
+hesitated. Two-thirds of the icy bridge had yet to be crossed.
+
+“Shall we go back?” he asked.
+
+“No,” she replied, “we will go on.”
+
+The minister’s arm was still about her waist. It was a wise precaution.
+If it had not been there she would surely have plunged to the bottom of
+the gorge before the remainder of the crossing could have been
+accomplished. She wondered afterward why, with that first taste of an
+earthly heaven sweet upon her soul’s lips, she had not, herself, sought
+life’s end. At the farther end of the bridge he released her, and they
+turned and looked back over the perilous way they had come. Across the
+stream, in a circle of light thrown into the street by a swinging arc
+lamp, stood an automobile. A woman, sitting alone in the tonneau,
+swathed in furs, was looking over at them. They had not heard the car,
+they had not until that moment seen it, it was too far away now for its
+occupant to be identified. But Mary Bradley knew, nevertheless, who had
+seen them.
+
+“It was a dangerous crossing,” said the rector as they turned up the
+hill, and the car across the gorge moved on.
+
+“It was a rapturous crossing,” said Mary Bradley in her heart as,
+clinging to her companion’s arm, she limped weakly toward her home. But,
+if she had been reticent before the accident, she was silent now. The
+power of speech seemed almost to have left her. The minister respected
+her mood and did not question her. Doubtless pain or weariness or
+embarrassment had its effect upon her, and he did not choose to be
+intrusive. He left her at her door, and heard the querulous voice of the
+old woman of the house in impatient questioning as he turned away.
+
+Mary Bradley gave brief greeting to her mother as she entered, but she
+went hurriedly and sat by the window in the darkened living-room. She
+watched the stalwart figure of the rector of Christ Church until it was
+lost in the shadows of the dimly-lighted street. She pressed her face
+against the pane and peered into the darkness after the last vestige of
+an outline or a motion had been swallowed up.
+
+Her mother called to her from the kitchen.
+
+“Ain’t you comin’ to your supper, Mary?”
+
+“Yes, mother.”
+
+But she did not come. She still sat with her face against the window,
+staring into the night.
+
+Again the old woman called to her, impatiently.
+
+“Why don’t you come? Your supper’s gittin’ cold.”
+
+“I’m coming, mother.”
+
+Still she did not come.
+
+What was it in the darkness, in the sweet twilight beyond the darkness,
+in the red glory of some forbidden morning, that drew and held her eyes
+of clay?
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XIII
+
+                      A CASE OF MISTAKEN IDENTITY
+
+
+On the morning following Mrs. Bradley’s visit to Ruth Tracy there was
+unusual activity at the Chichester home. It was confined wholly to Miss
+Chichester. She was in a high state of excitement and anticipation.
+She ordered her car early from the garage and started down-town. She
+stopped at a large department store and called up Barry Malleson’s
+office by telephone. But Barry was not yet down. She wandered aimlessly
+about the store for fifteen minutes, and then tried again to speak
+to Barry. Still he had not reached the mills. Then she reëntered her
+car and was taken to a big office building a few blocks away. She
+left the elevator at the sixth floor and entered the anteroom of the
+law-offices of Tracy, Black and Westgate. Mr. Westgate was in, but
+he was busy. Would she wait, or would she see Mr. Tracy who was just
+at present disengaged? She did not care to see Mr. Tracy; her errand
+was particularly with Mr. Westgate, and she would wait. She decided
+to try again to reach Barry. This time she was successful. The office
+telephone girl announced that he was there. So Miss Chichester sat at
+a table with a desk ’phone in her hands and entered into conversation
+with Barry.
+
+“I am here,” she said, “at Phil’s office, and I want you to come up
+here. It’s very important.”
+
+It was apparent that Barry both demurred and failed to understand, for
+Miss Chichester added after a moment:
+
+“At Phil Westgate’s office. You must come up, Barry. It won’t take ten
+minutes, and I’m sure you can spare me that much time. Besides, it’s a
+matter of very serious importance to you. Please come right away.”
+
+Evidently Barry yielded, for she said, after a brief interval of
+silence:
+
+“Thank you so much! I’ll wait right here.”
+
+She hung up the receiver, and went and sat on the window ledge and
+looked down into the street. She saw Barry as he turned the corner and
+crossed over toward the office building. When he entered the room a
+moment later she drew him mysteriously to a bench in a corner.
+
+“No,” she said, in reply to Barry’s question, “I can’t tell you what it
+is; not until we see Phil. I know you’ll be surprised, and maybe you’ll
+be shocked, and I want you to have the benefit of Phil’s judgment on it
+at once.”
+
+But Phil was still engaged. Other clients had come, in the meantime, to
+see him, and were sitting about the anteroom waiting. Barry tapped the
+floor with the toe of his shoe impatiently.
+
+“I can’t sit around here all the morning,” he said. “I’ve got work to
+do down at the office; important work. You must realize, Jane, that I’m
+vice-president of the company and that all matters of magnitude pass
+through my hands.”
+
+“I’m sure it can’t be much longer, Barry. Those people have been in
+there now, to my certain knowledge, at least half an hour.”
+
+But he was still ill at ease, and finally he went over to the telephone
+girl, and asked her to call in to Westgate that Mr. Barry Malleson and
+Miss Chichester were waiting to see him, and that Mr. Malleson was in
+great haste. Word came back immediately that Westgate would see them in
+a moment. And it was really less than five minutes when his door opened
+and Judge Bosworth came out followed by Colonel Boston, Mr. Hughes,
+Mr. Cochrane and Mr. Rapalje.
+
+Miss Chichester’s curiosity was so greatly aroused as to the meaning
+of this meeting of vestrymen that she came near losing sight, for the
+moment, of the purpose of her own errand. But when she was once in
+Westgate’s room with Barry, there was no delay in making the object of
+her visit known.
+
+“I’ve brought Barry with me,” she said, “because I want him to hear the
+disclosures I am about to make――they so deeply concern him――and because
+he will need good, sound advice the moment he hears them.”
+
+For the first time Barry looked worried.
+
+“I don’t know what she’s got up her sleeve, Phil; honest I don’t. I
+haven’t said a word to her that she could construe as a promise of any
+kind.”
+
+There was a twinkle in Westgate’s eye.
+
+“I’m afraid you’re in bad, Barry,” he said. “Jane has a mighty
+determined look on her face this morning.”
+
+“But, Phil, old man, you know very well that I wouldn’t for the world
+deceive any woman; and what’s more Jane has never――――”
+
+But at that point Jane herself interrupted him.
+
+“Oh, Barry, you silly fellow! It’s a warning I want to give you, not an
+ultimatum. And Phil’s a lawyer and he can tell you what to do. I always
+knew it, but I had no proof. Now I have the evidence. I saw it with my
+own eyes.”
+
+“Saw what?” asked Westgate.
+
+“Saw him hug and kiss her.”
+
+Barry started from his chair.
+
+“I never did!” he exclaimed. “I never even tried to. Jane, you’ve made
+a terrible mistake!”
+
+“Now, Barry,” said Westgate, “just restrain yourself for a few minutes
+and we’ll ask Miss Chichester to explain. Jane, will you please begin
+at the beginning and tell us the entire story?”
+
+“Certainly! You know I went yesterday afternoon to call on Ruth Tracy,
+and while I was there this person came in.”
+
+“What person? Who?” asked Westgate.
+
+“Why, that socialist widow.”
+
+“Mrs. Bradley?”
+
+“Yes; and she said some impertinent things and I got up and left.”
+
+“And what happened then?” asked Westgate, tipping back in his office
+chair, putting his thumbs into the armholes of his vest, and trying
+hard to look serious.
+
+“Well, it wasn’t twenty minutes later that I was going up-town, and
+just as my car turned into Grove Street I saw this person, not three
+feet away from me, walking in a most clinging and confidential way with
+Stephen Lamar, the socialist and anarchist and atheist.”
+
+“But,” inquired Westgate, “where does Barry get into the plot?”
+
+“He doesn’t get into it directly,” replied Miss Chichester; “but it
+concerns him seriously. I want him to know what kind of a person this
+is he’s been running after.”
+
+Then Barry spoke up.
+
+“Mrs. Bradley isn’t engaged to marry me,” he said. “I don’t know why
+she hasn’t got a right to walk on the street with Stephen Lamar or any
+one else if she wants to.”
+
+“That isn’t the point, Barry,” protested Miss Chichester. “The point is
+that you haven’t got a right to walk on the street with her, or haunt
+her office, or commend her beauty, after you know what she’s done.”
+
+“Why,” said Barry, “I don’t think it’s so very bad for her to be seen
+on the street with this man. Maybe it wasn’t her fault that he was
+with her. I don’t think I would deprive her of my friendship on that
+account, Jane.”
+
+“Oh, but wait! You haven’t heard it all yet,” exclaimed Miss Chichester.
+“Wait till I tell you the rest, and then let me hear you dare to defend
+her, Barry Malleson.”
+
+“Proceed,” said Westgate soberly.
+
+“Well, I made up my mind that things weren’t right, and that I’d see it
+out. So I had Albert drive down-town again. I knew that those Factory
+Hill people usually cross the foot-bridge instead of going around,
+so I gave them time to get there, and then we drove up Brook Street,
+past the entrance to the foot-bridge. Sure enough they were just going
+across. I had Albert stop the car so I could get a good square look at
+them. They were so interested in each other that they didn’t see or
+hear us. And now what do you think?”
+
+She turned first to Westgate and then to Barry to prepare them for the
+awful disclosure she was about to make. Her question was in the nature
+of a shock-absorber.
+
+“This is getting serious,” said Westgate, straightening up. “Are you
+sure it was Mrs. Bradley?”
+
+“Positively certain!”
+
+“And Stephen Lamar?”
+
+“I couldn’t be mistaken.”
+
+“Barry, have you any questions you desire to ask in order to test the
+witness’s knowledge before she makes the final disclosure?”
+
+“I don’t see that what she’s saying concerns me particularly,” replied
+Barry. “I don’t object to Mrs. Bradley having company home. It’s rather
+a lonesome route across the bridge and up the hill. She ought to have
+somebody with her, going that way after dark.”
+
+“But,” protested Jane, “think whom she chose to go with her. A man who
+isn’t a fit companion for men, let alone for women.”
+
+“I don’t think much of his theories,” replied Barry, “but I never heard
+that he was positively bad.”
+
+“Barry Malleson! What do you call a bad man, I’d like to know? Why,
+this man flouts religion, and denounces the Church, and preys on
+society, and――――”
+
+“Well, Jane,” interrupted Westgate, “suppose we put all that aside for
+the moment, and you go on and tell us what you saw at the bridge.”
+
+“Yes. Well, I saw them start across the bridge together, and before
+they got half-way over they stopped and――really, this isn’t very nice
+to tell.”
+
+“Probably not,” said Westgate, “but we can’t tell whether or not it was
+very nice to do until we hear what it was they did.”
+
+“Well, if you force me to tell it, why, I saw him put his arm around
+her waist, and pull her close up to him and――and kiss her.”
+
+“You astonish me!” exclaimed Westgate. “This thing was done in the
+early evening, under the glare of the electric lamp, in full view of
+any person who might be passing?”
+
+“Exactly! It was scandalous, Phil. And they weren’t satisfied with
+doing it once; they repeated it, and then she actually walked the rest
+of the way across the bridge with his arm around her waist. Barry
+Malleson, what do you think of that?”
+
+“I don’t know,” replied Barry, uncertainly, “that it has anything to do
+with me.”
+
+It was apparent, nevertheless, that the news had impressed him
+profoundly. And to that extent at least Miss Chichester had made her
+point.
+
+“But you do know,” she persisted, “that a woman who conducts herself
+so scandalously is not a proper person for you to associate with. Phil
+will tell you so, won’t you, Phil? He’ll tell you that it’s dangerous.
+That you’re likely to get caught in the trap of an adventuress.”
+
+Westgate turned soberly to Barry.
+
+“If what Jane tells us is true,” he said, “and I have no particular
+reason to doubt her word, you’ve been skating on very thin ice, young
+man, very thin ice.”
+
+“Thank you, Phil!” exclaimed Miss Chichester. “But you must do more
+than warn him; you must stop him. You’re a lawyer. You can get out an
+injunction, or a writ of habeas corpus or something, and compel her to
+keep away from him.”
+
+“Why,” responded Westgate, “I think it’s a question of his keeping away
+from her. And Barry’s own good sense, and sober judgment, and quick
+wit, will control him to that extent at least. Won’t it, Barry?”
+
+But Barry was still reluctant to renounce the charming widow offhand at
+the behest of her rival, or at the suggestion of the gentleman learned
+in the law.
+
+“I won’t jump before I’m ready,” replied Barry. “I’ll find out more
+about this thing first. I’ll ask Mrs. Bradley about it.”
+
+“Barry! Can’t you believe what I tell you? When I saw it with my own
+eyes?”
+
+Miss Chichester was growing more appealingly impatient. But Barry still
+shook his head incredulously.
+
+“I’ll believe it when she tells me it’s so,” he replied. “You might
+have been deceived in some way. And maybe if it is so it wasn’t her
+fault. I’ll ask her.”
+
+Then Westgate again intervened.
+
+“If you take my advice,” he said, “you’ll do nothing of the kind. If
+she can’t make up a plausible excuse, she’s not the woman I take her to
+be. Now, my suggestion would be―――― Have you told anybody else about
+this, Jane?”
+
+“Not a soul,” replied Miss Chichester, promptly.
+
+“Then don’t. Don’t say a word. Keep the whole thing under cover. Don’t
+either of you mention it to any one, least of all to Mrs. Bradley. I’ll
+put a detective on the case. If we find out that Lamar is actually
+making love to the widow, with her permission, we’ll put the facts
+before Barry in such a convincing way that he’ll have to accept them,
+and wind up his romance.”
+
+Westgate brought his fist down on the table with such positive and
+conclusive effect that there appeared to be no more to say; and his
+callers, feeling that the interview was at an end, rose to their feet.
+
+“I’ll take your advice,” said Miss Chichester, “but I’m sure you’ll
+find out that I was right.”
+
+Barry did not dissent from Westgate’s plan. His mind was, by this time,
+in such a whirl that he had not the ability to dissent from anything.
+He went out into the street, and started back toward the mill. Miss
+Chichester offered to take him in her car. She pleaded with him to go
+with her. But for once he was resolute. He would walk. When he reached
+the narrow street that led to the mill, he did not turn in there. He
+kept on down Main Street till he reached the Potter Building. Again he
+ignored the elevator and mounted the stairs. He had not promised to
+take Westgate’s advice, and refrain from interviewing Mrs. Bradley.
+Every succeeding step that he had taken in his journey from the
+lawyer’s office had but added to his determination to find out for
+himself, from original sources, how much if any of Jane Chichester’s
+remarkable story was true.
+
+Mrs. Bradley was in, and she was alone. Her greeting was more cordial,
+her smile more alluring, her eyes more fascinating as she turned them
+on her visitor, than they had ever been before. Barry did not beat
+about the bush. It was not his way. He went straight to the heart of
+his errand.
+
+“I’ve heard something this morning,” he said, “and I want to know if
+it’s a fact.”
+
+“Am I in a position,” she inquired, “to tell you whether or not it is a
+fact?”
+
+“If you’re not,” he replied, “I don’t know who is.”
+
+She smiled again, showing her perfect teeth.
+
+“Very well,” she said. “Go on. If it’s not one of the secrets of the
+League, I may be able to tell you.”
+
+“It has nothing to do with the League, Mrs. Bradley. It concerns you
+personally――and me.”
+
+“Has some one been forecasting your deplorable future?”
+
+“That’s exactly it.”
+
+“Well, what did you hear? Let’s know the worst.”
+
+“I heard that last night, on the Malleson foot-bridge, you permitted
+Stephen Lamar to walk across the bridge with his arm around your waist,
+and to kiss you twice. Is that so?”
+
+She did not answer him. Her face grew scarlet, and then pale. Her
+effort to breathe was as labored as it had been on the bridge the night
+before. But her eyes looked him through and through. He weakened and
+winced and cowered under them. He began to frame apologies.
+
+“I guess, maybe,” he stammered, “that I had no right to――to ask――――”
+
+“You had a perfect right,” she interrupted him. “You have made love to
+me honorably. If another man makes love to me with my permission, you
+have a right to know it.”
+
+Barry began to breathe more freely.
+
+“I――I thought you’d look at it that way,” he said.
+
+“Yes, that’s the right way. Now let us see. You’ve been told that I
+crossed the foot-bridge last evening with Stephen Lamar, and that he
+had his arm around me, and kissed me?”
+
+“Yes, that’s the story; but I didn’t――――”
+
+“Never mind that; let me tell you. Stephen Lamar did not cross the
+foot-bridge with me last evening. He has never crossed the foot-bridge
+with me. He did not have his arm around my waist. He has never had his
+arm around my waist. He did not kiss me. He has never kissed me. Is
+that sufficient?”
+
+“That’s more than sufficient,” replied Barry, his face aglow with
+satisfaction. “I knew it was a mistake. I’ll tell――――”
+
+“No!” The word came from her lips with sharp vehemence. “You’ll tell
+nobody, on pain of forfeiting my friendship. Let them think it. Let
+them say it.”
+
+“But,” protested Barry, weakly, “it ought to be denied.”
+
+“What does it matter?” she replied. “You know it’s a lie, because I’ve
+told you so. What difference does it make who else believes it or
+disbelieves it? I’m beholden to no one for my character or conduct. You
+must not deny the story. I beg you not to deny the story.”
+
+She reached her hand across the table and laid it caressingly on his.
+She turned her luminous eyes on him, eloquent with voiceless pleading.
+What could he do but promise to keep silent? By the same token he would
+as readily have promised her to wear a wooden gag in his mouth all the
+days of his life. There were few things which in that moment he would
+not have promised her at her request. He went out from her presence,
+as he had gone out on the occasion of his last preceding visit at her
+office, treading on air. In the distance, as he walked up the street,
+he caught a glimpse of Miss Chichester speeding onward in her car. He
+lifted the tips of his gloved fingers to his lips, and blew a kiss in
+her direction.
+
+“What’s the meaning of this unusual gallantry?” asked an acquaintance
+who was passing.
+
+“It means,” replied Barry, “that it’s better to kiss some women at a
+distance of two blocks than at a distance of two inches.”
+
+But another man who saw Barry’s salute said to himself: “Malleson’s
+fool is going daft for sure.”
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XIV
+
+                         THE BISHOP’S DILEMMA
+
+
+On the third Sunday in December the Right Reverend the Bishop of the
+diocese made his annual visitation to the parish of Christ Church.
+
+The rector had a large class to present to him for confirmation. Not
+unusually large, perhaps, but the numbers were sufficient to indicate
+that there was no material falling off in the personal accessions to
+the church. It was noted, however, that among the candidates there were
+few people of the wealthy class. Most of those received into membership
+came from the families of wage-workers. Nor were the accessions from
+this class as large as the rector had hoped and expected they would
+be. The great majority of those who came to hear him preach, who
+sympathized with him, who even fought for him, remained, nevertheless,
+outside the organized body of the church. People whose lives are given
+over to manual labor, especially in the cities, are characteristically
+cautious. Through centuries of exploitation, of deception, of promises
+unfulfilled, they have learned to be on their guard. They are not quick
+to attach themselves to any body, religious or secular, to which they
+are to assume new and undefined obligations. Nevertheless, the bishop
+had no fault to find with the class presented to him for confirmation,
+nor with the congregations that greeted him.
+
+In his honor, and as significant of their attitude toward the church
+as distinguished from their attitude toward the rector, those who
+had, during the last few months, deserted their pews, were out in full
+force. Their attendance, coupled with the attendance of a throng of
+people of the humbler class, taxed the church edifice to its capacity.
+Many were obliged to stand throughout the service and did so willingly.
+No reference was made by the bishop in his sermon, or from the chancel,
+to the troubles in the parish. It seemed to him that it would be the
+part of wisdom on his part, so far as his public utterances were
+concerned, to ignore them at this time. He was a guest of Mrs. Tracy.
+Ever since his elevation to the bishopric she had entertained him at
+her house on the occasions of his annual visitations to the parish.
+The bishop felt quite at home in the Tracy family. He was especially
+fond of Ruth. He had confirmed her. He had seen her grow into helpful
+and religious young womanhood. She was the fairest flower in his whole
+diocese. Nor was Mr. Tracy left entirely out of account. He was not a
+churchman, that is true, and his name was rarely mentioned in matters
+connected with the episcopal visitation. But he liked the bishop, and
+the bishop liked him, and they had many an enjoyable visit with each
+other before the library fire of an evening, after the other members
+of the family had retired for the night. The bishop was fond of a good
+cigar, and Mr. Tracy provided him with the choicest brands. Moreover
+the bishop was getting up in years; his duties were onerous and his
+work was wearing, and his physician had advised him, on occasion, to
+take something before retiring that would induce sound and restful
+sleep. Mr. Tracy knew exactly what would best answer that purpose, and
+he provided it. It was small wonder, therefore, that the Tracy house
+came to be regarded as a kind of episcopal residence during the period
+of the annual visitation.
+
+It was here that the bishop invited the vestry to meet with him on the
+Monday evening following confirmation, for the purpose of discussing
+specifically the charges against the rector, and generally the unhappy
+situation in the parish. It must not be supposed that he had failed
+to inform himself, privately, before coming to the city, of the exact
+nature of the trouble. It would have been unwise not to have done so.
+Nor was he likely to remain in ignorance concerning the opinions of
+certain parishioners now that he was here. A succession of callers,
+mostly of the wealthier class, who had had the privilege of a personal
+acquaintance with him, occupied his attention during the greater part
+of the day. In the early afternoon Barry Malleson came to see the
+bishop. He felt that his voice might be potent in obtaining episcopal
+favor for the rector toward whom his loyalty had increased day by
+day. He was ushered into the reception room and told that the bishop,
+who was engaged with a caller in the library, would see him in a few
+minutes. While he was waiting, who should come in but Jane Chichester.
+She was rejoiced to find Barry there. It was an opportunity that she
+had been seeking, and that he had been avoiding, for a full week.
+
+“I’m so glad you’re here,” she said. “I’ve been wanting awfully to see
+you, and it’s been ten whole days since I’ve had the remotest glimpse
+of you. Where in the world have you been?”
+
+“Why,” replied Barry, “we’ve been pretty busy down at the mill lately.”
+
+“But I’ve called you up a dozen times and they always tell me you’re
+out.”
+
+“That’s the fault of Miss Bolckom, the telephone girl. I must speak to
+her about it.”
+
+If the truth must be told, Barry had spoken to her about it, suggesting
+mildly that if any one whose voice resembled that of Miss Chichester
+should call him up, and he should unfortunately happen to be out, why,
+she needn’t go to the trouble or having him paged. Miss Bolckom, being
+an ordinarily clever girl, had understood perfectly. Hence Barry’s
+unaccountable absences.
+
+But Miss Chichester had him now alone and at her mercy.
+
+“What I wanted to see you about,” she explained, “is that I’ve come
+to the conclusion that Phil Westgate is just making game of both of
+us. I’ve called him up every day and he says his detectives haven’t
+discovered the first thing.”
+
+“Give ’em time,” suggested Barry. “You know Rome wasn’t built in a day.”
+
+“They’ve had plenty of time. He just doesn’t want them to discover
+anything. I’m not going to wait another day. If he doesn’t find
+something to-morrow to confirm what I saw, I’m going to make my story
+public. I’m going to spread it from one end of the town to the other.
+I’m going to show that woman up for what she is, and if Ruth Tracy and
+Mr. Farrar want to patronize her after that, they’ll do it at their
+peril. Of course you won’t have anything more to do with her, will you,
+Barry?”
+
+Barry opened his eyes wide and was silent. Then a happy thought came to
+him, and he said:
+
+“If any woman lets Steve Lamar hug and kiss her, she mustn’t expect to
+associate with me.”
+
+“Of course not; nor with any one else who has any self-respect or any
+regard for public opinion. But to-morrow’s the last day I’m going
+to keep my mouth shut, and Phil can like it or not as he chooses. I
+never did think he was as much of a lawyer as some people claim he is,
+anyway.”
+
+“Why,” replied Barry, “the only thing I’ve got against Phil is that
+he’s leading this fight on the rector. Otherwise he’s a very decent
+fellow, with fair, average ability.”
+
+“Are you here to see the bishop, Barry?”
+
+“I thought I’d drop in and have a chat with him. The bishop and I are
+old friends.”
+
+“I came to see him, too. I always come to see him when he’s here on his
+visitation. I think he’s such a dear man.”
+
+“He’s a very agreeable fellow.”
+
+“If one were going to get married wouldn’t it be too sweet for anything
+to have the bishop marry you?”
+
+“It wouldn’t be a bad idea, that’s so.”
+
+“And he’s getting along in years, and his health is not very good, and
+I did hear some talk about his resigning. Wouldn’t it be too bad if he
+should leave the episcopate before one is ready to get married?”
+
+Barry began to have an uncomfortable feeling. He didn’t know just
+why. It was not the first time that Miss Chichester had discussed the
+subject of matrimony with him, and his equanimity had never before been
+ruffled by it, but now he saw a cloud on the horizon.
+
+“Oh, well,” he said, “there’ll be other bishops.”
+
+“But this one is so adorable,” persisted Miss Chichester. “And what
+with all the trouble in the parish and everything, he may never come
+here again. Barry, when that person comes out, whoever it is, we’ll go
+in and see the bishop together, won’t we?”
+
+Barry took a firmer grasp on his hat and cane, and glanced anxiously
+toward the hall door as if to make sure of his means of escape in the
+event of an emergency.
+
+“Why,” he stammered, “I wanted to see the bishop
+alone,――a――confidentially, you know. A matter of some importance.”
+
+“But we shouldn’t have any secrets that we keep from each other, Barry.
+And I’m sure that if we go to the bishop together and agree on what to
+ask him, we can prevail on him to do almost anything for us. Oh, dear!
+I wish the person that’s in there would come out quick.”
+
+Barry dragged his watch from his pocket and glanced at it.
+
+“I’ve got to go,” he said. “I can’t wait any longer. Important business
+at the mill.”
+
+He rose and started toward the hall, but Miss Chichester was nearest
+that avenue of escape, and she intercepted him and laid a beseeching
+hand on his arm.
+
+“Don’t, Barry! Don’t go! It won’t take five minutes, once the bishop’s
+at liberty.”
+
+Barry, in a fever of apprehension, was contemplating a sudden break
+for the street, when the library door opened and the bishop and his
+caller appeared. The visitor was the lady who, some weeks before,
+in a petulant mood, had declared her purpose of seeking comfort
+and satisfaction in another communion that recognizes the historic
+episcopate. But she had not gone there. She had felt, on second
+thought, that she could be of more service to Christianity by retaining
+her existing church connections and taking up arms against the rector.
+She was saying, as she emerged into the reception room:
+
+“The man is impossible, Bishop; perfectly impossible! He has driven
+most of us from the Church already, and the rest will follow very soon
+unless you suppress him without delay. Oh, here’s Jane Chichester. Miss
+Chichester will agree with me, I’m sure.”
+
+“Perfectly!” said Miss Chichester, retaining her hold on Barry’s arm
+notwithstanding the advent of the bishop and his caller.
+
+“And what is Mr. Malleson’s opinion?” asked the bishop, advancing and
+shaking hands courteously with Miss Chichester and warmly with Barry,
+and thereby loosing the young lady’s grip on the coat-sleeve of a
+greatly perturbed young man.
+
+“Oh, it doesn’t matter much what Barry thinks,” interposed the
+pompous lady, rustling her gorgeous green silk gown; “he’s more than
+half-converted to socialism, anyway.”
+
+The bishop laughed.
+
+“How’s that, Barry?” he inquired. “Has some one been leading you into
+by and forbidden paths?”
+
+“No,” replied Barry, hesitatingly. “I mean, yes. Say, Bishop, I want
+to see you for a minute――alone――entirely alone; strictly confidential
+business.”
+
+“Certainly!” replied the bishop, affably. “I’m sure the ladies will
+excuse us. They can discuss, in our absence, fashion, society,
+religion, suffrage, or the Church, as they choose.”
+
+He bowed politely and smilingly to each woman in turn, drew Barry into
+the library, and closed the library door.
+
+With a sigh of relief the rescued young man dropped into the nearest
+chair.
+
+“She pretty near got me that time!” he exclaimed, pulling his
+handkerchief nervously from his pocket and wiping the perspiration from
+his forehead.
+
+“Who nearly got you?” inquired the bishop.
+
+“Why, Miss―――― Say, Bishop, could you marry a couple that might drop in
+on you casually, suddenly, say just as though it were this afternoon?”
+
+“I could,” was the reply, “provided I was not trenching on the
+preserves of the parish priest, and provided the couple brought along
+their marriage license.”
+
+“Their what?”
+
+“Their marriage license.”
+
+“A fellow can’t get married unless he has a marriage license?”
+
+“Not in this state.”
+
+“And has he got to get the license himself?”
+
+“He must apply for it in person. But let me ask: what is the meaning of
+all these questions?”
+
+Barry did not reply. He heaved another great sigh of relief, and
+settled back in his chair. He had discovered a new barrier against
+sudden matrimony. When he did speak again he chose to change the
+subject.
+
+“You see,” he said, “I came to talk with you about Farrar. Now, he’s
+the right man in the right place. He’s doing a lot of good around here.
+I’d hate to see him kicked out.”
+
+“So would I.”
+
+“Then let’s keep him here. I’ll stand by him to the finish.”
+
+“But many of his parishioners demand that he shall be relieved.”
+
+“That’s because they don’t appreciate him. They don’t sense what he’s
+doing. They’re not up to date. We run the Church according to modern
+methods these times, same as we do the mill.”
+
+“And those who are most insistent are communicants, vestrymen,
+prominent supporters.”
+
+“Well, I know I’m not a communicant nor a vestryman, but I say, Bishop,
+there are few men in the parish who are willing to do more for Farrar
+and his church than I am. I don’t know, by Jove! but I’d be willing to
+join the Church myself if it would help Farrar out.”
+
+“That sounds good. I shall hope to see your name on the list of
+candidates presented to me for confirmation next year.”
+
+“But the question is: what are we going to do for Farrar?”
+
+“I’m going to do all I can for him. I like him.”
+
+“So do I. So does Ruth Tracy, and Mrs. Bradley, and Hazzard, and
+Emberly, and a lot of us. Take my advice, Bishop, and keep him here.
+You won’t be sorry; I’ll give you my word for it.”
+
+Barry rose from his chair and added: “I won’t keep you any longer.
+There’s a lot of people out there to see you by this time. I’ve watched
+’em through the window, getting out of their cars at the door. Now, you
+do as I tell you, Bishop, and everything will come out all right.”
+
+He grasped the prelate’s hand warmly, turned toward the door, and then
+suddenly turned back.
+
+“Say, Bishop,” he said, “would you mind calling Jane Chichester in here
+just as soon as I open the door? She’s been waiting a long time to see
+you.”
+
+“I’ll be glad to.”
+
+“Thank you!” There was a tone of deep gratefulness in Barry’s voice.
+
+The bishop was as good as his word. Out of a half dozen callers waiting
+to see him he selected Miss Chichester for his next interview, and
+Barry made a successful escape.
+
+Westgate was the first member of the vestry to arrive at the Tracy
+house on the evening of the consultation with the bishop. He had not
+been there before since the night on which Ruth had decreed their
+separation. He looked around on the familiar walls of the library,
+burdened with books and rich with pictures, and his memory went back
+to those other evenings when the stately room was lighted by the
+presence of one who still held his heart in thrall. It was not merely
+an emotional sadness from which he suffered as he stood there; he was
+aware also of an actual, stifling pain in his breast, the reaction of
+spiritual distress on the physical organs of life. A great longing
+rose within him that he might hear the soft sweep of her garments on
+the staircase, just as he used to hear it in the old days, that he
+might see her figure outlined in the doorway, and catch the welcoming
+smile on her face―――― There was a movement in the hall, the rustling
+of a gown, and then, not Ruth, but her mother fluttered in. She was
+trembling with excitement. She felt that the climax of an eventful day
+was about to be reached. Her overstrained nerves were yielding to the
+pressure that had been put on them.
+
+“Oh, Philip!” she exclaimed. “I’m so glad you came first. I wanted to
+see you. I wanted to ask you not to let him send Mr. Farrar away.”
+
+Westgate placed a chair for her and endeavored to quiet her.
+
+“I don’t think the bishop will make a decision of any kind to-night,”
+he assured her. “He may not care at any time to exercise his power to
+decree a direct dismissal. But why have you changed your mind in the
+matter?”
+
+“I haven’t changed my mind about his sermons and his ridiculous ideas
+and all that, but I hate to see him disgraced, and I’m so sorry for
+poor, dear Mrs. Farrar. I went to call on her to-day. You should have
+seen her, Philip. She’s a mere wreck. It was distressing the way she
+wept.”
+
+“I know. I’m as sorry as you are for Mrs. Farrar.”
+
+“It’s pitiful! I tried to get her to come with me to see the bishop,
+but she wouldn’t. She says she wants to go; she says it’s torture to
+her to stay in this city; but she doesn’t want her husband disgraced.
+Poor woman! She hardly knows what she wants. She’s beside herself.”
+
+“I’m very sorry for Mrs. Farrar,” repeated Westgate. “It’s one of the
+sad results of a man’s misdeeds that the innocent members of his family
+are often the greater sufferers.”
+
+“So I want you,” went on Mrs. Tracy, “to plead with the bishop.
+He’ll listen to you. I talked with him but he wouldn’t give me any
+satisfaction. He said he couldn’t promise anything. I tried to get Ruth
+to talk with him; he’s very fond of Ruth; but she wouldn’t. I couldn’t
+reason with her. She says there’s a great principle involved. She says
+that if he’s wrong he’s tremendously wrong, and he ought to go; and if
+he’s right, as she believes he is, he is everlastingly right, and he
+ought to be vindicated, and honored and loved.”
+
+“Did she say he ought to be loved?”
+
+“Something like that. I don’t exactly remember. The whole thing is so
+perfectly dreadful!”
+
+“Mrs. Tracy, I believe that Ruth’s salvation depends on Mr. Farrar’s
+removal. The man has hypnotized her. She is under a spell.”
+
+The distracted woman searched Westgate’s face, trying to grasp the full
+meaning of his words.
+
+“Philip!” she gasped, “you――you don’t really mean――――”
+
+“Oh, I don’t mean that he has wilfully and maliciously placed her
+under his control. He is not a scoundrel. But she is, nevertheless,
+absolutely pliant to his will.”
+
+“And you think that, for Ruth’s sake, he ought to go?”
+
+“I say that unhesitatingly.”
+
+“Oh, dear! What shall we do?”
+
+“You must quiet yourself, Mrs. Tracy, and await developments. As I
+have already told you, I doubt whether there will be any dismissal
+to-night. However, the final result will undoubtedly depend on the
+attitude assumed by the bishop. And so far as I am able to exercise any
+influence on his judgment, I shall exercise it in favor of the earliest
+possible dismissal of the rector of Christ Church.”
+
+“Philip, this is terrible!”
+
+She would have said more, but at that moment other members of the
+vestry arrived, and she precipitately fled.
+
+When the bishop of the diocese entered the library most of the
+vestrymen were already there. The rector, together with the two
+remaining members, came a few moments later. There were cordial
+exchanges of personal greetings, and some general conversation of a
+cheerful nature, for the bishop was what is called a food mixer. And
+this was his favorite parish. He had always enjoyed his visits and
+visitations here, and his friendships with the prominent men and women
+of Christ Church. The strained relations between many of these men and
+women and their rector had therefore given him deep concern. How to
+heal the breach was a problem that taxed his episcopal judgment and
+ingenuity to the utmost. He deplored the loss of spirituality that must
+necessarily result from the quarrel. But it was his especial duty, as
+a bishop, to preserve the corporate integrity of organized religion,
+and to this end he felt that he must now bend all his efforts. Yet he
+approached his task with deep misgiving.
+
+Seated, finally, at the head of the library table, he expressed his
+sorrow at the conflict which had arisen, and his desire to restore
+peace and harmony in the parish. It was his earnest wish, he said,
+that the case might be settled by the exercise of his godly judgment
+in accordance with the admonition of the canon, without the necessity
+of proceeding to a formal trial and decree. To that end he had called
+the vestry to meet with him in consultation; and, in order that there
+might be a full understanding of the case, he now invited those who
+had formulated the charges against the rector to give him the specific
+causes of their complaint.
+
+Thereupon Westgate, who had been chosen to represent the complainants,
+arose to present their case.
+
+He sketched briefly the history of the parish, and referred to its
+record for harmony and good works up to the time of the present
+incumbency. He then dwelt specifically on the deviations of the rector
+from the accustomed activities of a parish priest. He spoke of his
+attempt to force upon his parishioners the practice of an unwelcome,
+if not offensive, social equality, of his affiliation with elements in
+the community that were indifferent or inimical to religion, of his
+advocacy of an economic creed entirely at variance with the doctrines
+and discipline of the Church, of his utter disregard of the wishes and
+feelings of the bulk of his parishioners, and of his obstinate refusal
+to be influenced or guided in parish activities by his vestry, or by
+the wise judgment of those who were responsible for the maintenance and
+prosperity of Christ Church.
+
+The bishop heard him through, listening attentively, but made no
+comment. He then called upon the accused priest to reply.
+
+In the rector’s response there was no bitterness, nor any show of
+resentment. He stated his position and his beliefs, his scheme of work
+in the parish, his hopes and aspirations for his people, and his hearty
+desire to unite all those affiliated in any way with Christ Church,
+without distinction of class, into one aggressive body pledged to the
+spiritual and material regeneration of men.
+
+“I ask nothing for myself,” he said in conclusion. “If my Reverend
+Father in God shall see fit to separate me from the people whom I love,
+I shall accept the decree without a murmur. In that event my only grief
+and fear would be that these sheep that I have shepherded will become
+scattered and lost. It is for their sakes, and for their sakes alone,
+that I desire to stay.”
+
+“Is it not possible,” asked the bishop, “that you have placed too great
+emphasis on the wants and demands of the poor, and have given undue
+attention to those who take but a passing interest in the Church?”
+
+“I think not,” was the reply. “In my judgment it is the indifferent who
+should be sought out and urged; and in my belief it is the poor who
+need the greater attention as compared with the rich. They are children
+of the desolate. They are many more than are the children of her who is
+favored and blessed.”
+
+“But have you given sufficient thought to those who, for many years,
+have devoted themselves with single-hearted solicitude to the interests
+of Christ Church, and who have a right to feel that your duty toward
+them is at least equal to your duty toward those who have hitherto been
+strangers to religion?”
+
+Westgate smiled. He felt that the bishop was reaching the vital point
+in the issue.
+
+“I feel,” replied the rector, “that I have done my full duty to all my
+people.”
+
+“And you have carefully considered the protests and appeals of those of
+your parishioners who have not agreed with you?”
+
+“Carefully and prayerfully. I cannot concede what they ask. I cannot
+yield to their demands without stultifying myself in the eyes of men,
+and proving false to the trust which God has imposed on me.”
+
+It was plain that his unyielding purpose left no room for compromise.
+The thing must be fought out. The bishop took up and glanced at the
+written complaint that had been filed with him.
+
+“You are charged here,” he said, “with having violated the canons of
+the Church and the rubrics of the prayer-book. What have you to say to
+that charge?”
+
+“I have not knowingly violated any law of the Church,” was the reply.
+“I believe in, and I have not failed to preach, every vital doctrine
+set forth in our articles of religion.”
+
+The bishop turned to Westgate.
+
+“You have charged this priest,” he said, “with having taught doctrines
+contrary to those held by the Church. Will you kindly amplify the
+charge?”
+
+“Certainly!” was the quick response. “He has declared himself to be
+a socialist, and he has upheld, publicly and privately, the main
+principles promulgated by the socialistic body. These principles are
+contrary to the doctrines of the Church.”
+
+“I am,” explained the rector, “a Christian socialist.”
+
+“And what,” retorted Westgate, “is a Christian socialist? There is no
+such thing, nor can there be in the very nature of the case. The two
+terms, Christianity and socialism, are fundamentally antagonistic to
+one another, and must always remain so. You might as well speak of
+peaceful war.”
+
+The bishop shook his head doubtfully.
+
+“Are you conversant, Mr. Westgate,” he asked, “with the movement
+inaugurated by Kingsley and Maurice of the Church of England and
+denominated Christian socialism? I do not understand that Mr. Farrar
+has gone so far in his beliefs and declarations as did these churchmen
+and their followers, and no ecclesiastical condemnation was visited on
+them.”
+
+“I am well aware,” replied Westgate, “of the movement in England of
+which you speak. I am also well aware that, so far as their religious
+aspect was concerned, the schemes of Maurice and Kingsley failed
+utterly, as did the purely economic scheme of Robert Owen who preceded
+them. Indeed, the only socialistic scheme that has ever survived the
+test of years is the one put forth by the atheistic school of Germany,
+the one that is growing like a Upas tree to-day. The whole idea of
+so-called Christian socialism has been condemned by churchmen abroad
+in language far more severe than any that I have used. Clergymen over
+there who have resorted to Fabian tracts as a means for exploiting
+unchristian doctrines are not those who are doing the Lord’s work most
+effectually in the United Kingdom to-day.”
+
+The bishop’s eyes snapped. Not with anger, but with interest and
+eagerness. He dearly loved a controversy such as this, and here,
+evidently, was a foeman worthy of his steel. He started vigorously to
+make answer to Westgate and then suddenly checked himself. He realized
+that this was neither the time nor place to enter into an argument on
+the subject of social philosophy. He contented himself with asking
+quietly:
+
+“Are you familiar, Mr. Westgate, with the Encyclical issued by the
+Lambeth Conference, and with the report made by the Joint Commission on
+the Relations of Capital and Labor to our last General Convention, and,
+if so, do you agree with the opinion therein expressed that the Church
+cannot stand officially for or against socialism?”
+
+“I am entirely familiar,” was the reply, “with the matters to which
+you refer; and I agree that it is not the province of the Church to
+make war on socialism or any other economic doctrine. Her concern, as
+the same report declares, is with the spirit, and not with any outward
+form of society. Nor, by the same token, can the Church afford to have
+one of her priests appear as the protagonist of an economic policy
+which, carried to its logical conclusion, would destroy the life of the
+Church.”
+
+Again the bishop started to controvert Westgate’s statement, again
+checked himself, and asked, as quietly as before:
+
+“Are you aware that our beloved Phillips Brooks approached very close
+to the position which you are condemning this priest for occupying?”
+
+“I am aware that Bishop Brooks was a Christian democrat, but a
+Christian socialist, never!”
+
+The bishop smiled. He admired Westgate’s pugnacity. He longed to lock
+horns with him in argument, but he felt that he must yield his desire
+to the necessities and proprieties of the occasion. With a sigh he
+picked up the written complaint which was lying on the table before
+him, and glanced at it.
+
+“You have here charged your rector,” he said, “with having administered
+the holy communion in a manner contrary to the rubrics. Will you please
+specify?”
+
+“Certainly,” was the response. “The rubric for the holy communion
+commands that the minister shall not receive any one to the communion
+who has done any wrong to his neighbor by word or deed. Mr. Farrar has
+repeatedly administered this sacrament to avowed socialists who preach
+the confiscation of their neighbors’ goods, and who stand ready to
+practice what they preach so soon as they can so change the law that
+they will not suffer the usual penalty.”
+
+The bishop smiled again, but he shook his head impatiently.
+
+“Is not that objection rather far-fetched?” he asked.
+
+“I do not think so,” was the reply. “He has, by both precept and
+example, placed the seal of the Church on a doctrine which is utterly
+subversive of social order and human rights. I do not think the Church
+will tolerate it.”
+
+Without making a reply the bishop glanced again at the complaint. It
+was evident that he was not inclined to give serious consideration to
+Westgate’s attack on the rector’s attitude toward socialism.
+
+“What have you to say,” he inquired, “concerning your charge that the
+minister has violated the rubric in the order for the burial of the
+dead?”
+
+“This,” was the prompt reply. “I charge him with having, in violation
+of the rubric, used the office of the Church in the burial of one, John
+Bradley, an unbaptized adult, a scoffer at religion, and a detractor of
+the Church.”
+
+The bishop did not smile this time. He looked sober and perplexed. At
+last the objections had advanced beyond the domain of triviality, and
+were directed at things of moment, things which might undermine the
+authority and integrity of the Church. He turned to the rector and
+inquired:
+
+“What have you to say to this, Mr. Farrar?”
+
+“I did,” replied the minister, “commit the body of John Bradley to the
+grave. Whether in his lifetime he was baptized or unbaptized, whether
+he had been a believer or a scoffer, I did not stop to inquire.”
+
+“Was it not your duty to have done so?”
+
+“Under the circumstances, I think not. I was at the burial merely as an
+onlooker when I was suddenly confronted with a request to officiate.”
+
+“What form of service did you use?”
+
+“I do not know. I may not have used any. I have no recollection. With
+the body of a man before me who had suffered at the hands of the ruling
+class, and who had died in the shadow of a deep injustice, I simply
+said the things that came into my mind to say.”
+
+“It is important that we should know what those things were. The Church
+cannot tolerate freedom of speech under her auspices at the burial of
+the unbaptized dead, nor the unwarranted use of her service at the
+grave of one who has died scoffing at religion.”
+
+“I wish it were in my power to reproduce my words. I should not be
+ashamed of them, and I am sure they would not condemn me.”
+
+The bishop, worried and uncertain, looked anxiously around the room.
+But, before he could make up his mind what to say or do next, Emberly
+rose in his place. It was evident that the man was laboring under great
+excitement, but he spoke, nevertheless, with commendable restraint.
+
+“If the bishop desires,” he said, “to know what words were used, I
+believe we can supply him with that information. The widow of John
+Bradley is here in the house. I have heard her say on more than one
+occasion that the words of our rector’s brief address at the burial of
+her husband are indelibly stamped on her memory.”
+
+“Can the woman be brought before us?” asked the bishop.
+
+“Without doubt,” replied Emberly. “I saw her come in, and I will try to
+find her.” He left the room in search of the desired witness.
+
+It was true that Mary Bradley was in the house. She knew that the
+bishop was to hear the charges against the rector this night; everybody
+knew it; charges which, if sustained, would surely result in his
+humiliation and disgrace. She felt that the one man above all others
+to whom she owed any gleam of light that had ever fallen across the
+darkness of her life was in imminent peril. She was torn with anxiety
+concerning him. The four walls of her home on factory Hill could not
+contain her. She found a neighbor’s boy for an escort, and started out.
+Impelled by a force with which she did not and could not parley, she
+made her way across the city to Fountain Park, and into the arms of
+Ruth Tracy, stretched out to receive her. The Mary and Martha of Holy
+Writ were not more concerned for the welfare of the persecuted Christ
+than were these two women for the safety of the man to whom each, in a
+way and to an extent unknown to the other, was supremely devoted. In
+the woman from Factory Hill it was the desire to be near him in his
+hour of trial that was paramount. She might, by some bare possibility,
+be able to serve him, to defend him, to refute his enemies. At least
+she would know, without a night of dreadful suspense, what fate had
+befallen him. Then Emberly came to summon her, and when she knew what
+was wanted she went with him gladly.
+
+In the library there was a halt in the proceedings, and an awkward
+lull. The full and florid face of the bishop was flushed more deeply
+than usual. With the fingers of one hand he tapped nervously the
+engraved seal of the big episcopal ring that ornamented the other hand,
+and awaited in silence the advent of the witness. The expectant and
+apprehensive countenances of the men who faced him marked their own
+agitation of mind. The rector alone of all of them sat confident and
+unperturbed. The wide doors into the hall, having been opened, were not
+again closed. Then Emberly entered with Mary Bradley. All eyes were
+turned on the woman. She was not abashed, nor did she appear in any way
+to be ill at ease. Yet there had never in her life before been a moment
+when her nerves were more nearly at the breaking point.
+
+“My good woman,” said the bishop, “we are informed that the rector of
+Christ Church officiated at the burial of your deceased husband. Is
+this true?”
+
+“It is true,” she replied, “that he made a brief address at my
+husband’s grave.”
+
+“At whose request?”
+
+“At mine.”
+
+“Did he use a prayer-book, or any particular form of religious service?”
+
+“He did not.”
+
+“Can you remember what he said?”
+
+“As well as though it had been said yesterday.”
+
+“Will you kindly repeat his words, as you remember them?”
+
+“I will. He said: ‘In that day when the grave shall give up its dead,
+and the souls of them that were in prison shall be free, may we
+know that the unchained spirit of this our brother has reached the
+fulfilment of the joys that were denied him here, but which, through
+all time, have awaited his coming into that glorious country where toil
+and patience and a good conscience shall have their reasonable reward.’
+And then he said: ‘Amen.’”
+
+She bowed her head as though in reverent memory of the event. The room
+was so still that men heard their own hearts beat.
+
+The bishop sighed.
+
+“Was that all?” he asked.
+
+“That was all.”
+
+“We thank you. You may retire.”
+
+She turned to go, but, before she had taken a step, Westgate rose to
+his feet.
+
+“May I interrogate the witness?” he asked.
+
+“If it is the pleasure of the witness to answer your interrogations,”
+the bishop replied.
+
+“I will answer anything,” said Mary Bradley.
+
+“Had your husband ever been baptized?” inquired Westgate.
+
+“I do not know,” she replied. “I greatly doubt it.”
+
+“Did he ever attend the services of any church?”
+
+“Never, to my knowledge.”
+
+“Was he not an avowed unbeliever in religion?”
+
+“He knew nothing about religion. I think he cared less,” was the frank
+reply.
+
+“Did he not openly scoff at piety, and ridicule the Church?”
+
+“I do not think he was sufficiently concerned about either of them to
+scoff at or ridicule them.”
+
+She met his questions with such frankness and bluntness that Westgate,
+nettled more at the manner than at the matter of her replies, resolved
+to hit closer at the mark.
+
+“You asked the rector to do what he did at the burial?”
+
+“I did.”
+
+“Are you, yourself, a member of any church?”
+
+“I am not.”
+
+“Nevertheless, you attend the services at Christ Church?”
+
+“I go every Sunday.”
+
+“Do you believe in God?”
+
+“Not in the God you patronize and profit by.”
+
+“Do you believe in Jesus Christ?”
+
+“As you picture Him, no. As the Bible pictures Him, yes. He was the
+friend of the poor and the oppressed.”
+
+“You are a socialist?”
+
+“I am.”
+
+“And the secretary of the Socialist League?”
+
+“I am.”
+
+“Do you know one Stephen Lamar?”
+
+“I know him.”
+
+“He is prominent in your league?”
+
+“He is an important member of it.”
+
+“He is a radical socialist?”
+
+“I have heard him say that he is.”
+
+“And an atheist?”
+
+“I have heard him say that he is.”
+
+“You are frequently in his company?”
+
+“As often as my business with him requires it.”
+
+“Is it not a fact that this Stephen Lamar is your accepted lover?”
+
+She shot at him a look blazing with indignation.
+
+“You have no right,” she said, “to ask me that question, and I shall
+not answer it.”
+
+Westgate paid no heed to her refusal. With forefinger pointed at her to
+emphasize his demand, he went on:
+
+“Two weeks ago you made an afternoon call at this house?”
+
+“I had that pleasure.”
+
+“And when you went home darkness had fallen?”
+
+“I believe so. Why do you ask?”
+
+“We shall see. And on your way across the city you were accompanied by
+a man?”
+
+“Sir, you have no right――――”
+
+“And this man walked with you across the Malleson foot-bridge?”
+
+Pallid, with startled eyes, with clenched hands, she cried out again:
+
+“I say you have no right――――”
+
+“And in the middle of the bridge, this man, with his arm around your
+waist――――”
+
+“Stop!”
+
+It was not Mary Bradley this time. It was the rector of Christ Church
+who spoke. He was on his feet. His eyes were flashing and his voice was
+resonant with anger. “Stop! You shall not bully and insult this woman.
+I’ll not permit it.”
+
+“I desire,” retorted Westgate, “to reveal the personal character and
+conduct of the star witness whom you have brought here to-night to
+bolster up your lost cause.”
+
+“I have brought no witness here, and you know it. And you shall not
+seize on an innocent circumstance to drag the name of an honest woman
+in the mire. I say I’ll not permit it.”
+
+“And I say that the woman is her own detractor, and I shall show her to
+this company in her true light――――”
+
+But he got no further. He was suddenly aware that in the doorway
+leading from the hall Ruth Tracy was standing, and the mysterious power
+of her presence struck silence into his defaming tongue. At her side
+was her mother, and behind them was the master of the house. The loud
+voices, the heated retorts, heard by them through the open doors as
+they sat in their room across the hall, had drawn them resistlessly to
+the scene of the conflict. At the moment of Westgate’s startled pause,
+Ruth, after flinging one scornful glance at her former lover, swept
+across the hall and put her arm protectingly around Mary Bradley’s
+waist. The vestrymen all started to their feet, and some of them began
+to talk excitedly, and to make loud demands. The situation had become
+acute, extreme, impossible.
+
+The bishop rose and threw both his hands into the air above his head.
+
+“I will hear no more!” he cried, his voice rising high above the
+increasing clamor in the room. “I will hear no more!” he repeated, “and
+may God give you better hearts before we meet again.”
+
+Ruth drew Mary Bradley from the room, pushing by her mother who stood
+in the doorway sobbing and clinging to her astounded husband. The
+vestrymen “went out one by one, beginning at the eldest, even unto the
+last.”
+
+Only the minister remained. The bishop turned to him, smiled grimly,
+and said:
+
+“‘Where are those thine accusers?’”
+
+And the minister replied: “They have cast their handful of stones at me
+and have gone.”
+
+“Farrar, I want you to come with me to my room.”
+
+Two hours later the rector of Christ Church left the Tracy mansion, and
+started down the hill toward home in the face of a blinding snow-storm.
+And ever and anon, as he strode along, he broke away from the memory
+of the heart-searching counsel given to him by his Reverend Father in
+God to wonder where Westgate had learned of the episode at the bridge,
+and what unwarranted and unsavory interpretation he was endeavoring to
+place on it, and what malign purpose he had in mind.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XV
+
+                            LOVE VERSUS LAW
+
+
+On the day following the conference with the bishop the rector of
+Christ Church called at Philip Westgate’s office. He did not seek a
+quarrel, but he did seek an explanation. He was not one to sit quietly
+or fearfully under insinuations which might or might not reflect on
+his personal character or his ministerial office. All his life he had
+lived in the open, clear of conscience, afraid of no man. He would
+live so still. Therefore he sought Westgate. The lawyer was in and
+was not engaged. He still had a bitter taste in his mouth from the
+night before. He was not wholly satisfied with what he had done at
+the conference with the bishop. Under the clear light of day, in the
+absence of any irritating impulses, his ardor cooled by the intervening
+night, he had come to the conclusion that, in his interrogation of Mary
+Bradley, he had overreached himself. He confided to his senior partner,
+Mr. Tracy, his opinion that he had made a damned fool of himself.
+And his senior partner fully agreed with him. It was, therefore, in
+a spirit of partial humility that he received the rector of Christ
+Church. But he made no explanations or apologies. He felt that whatever
+of this nature he might owe to others, he owed nothing to this man. He
+simply waited to be informed of the purpose of the call. He had not
+long to wait, for his visitor had a habit of going directly to the
+point.
+
+“I want to talk with you, Mr. Westgate,” he said, “about the incident
+of last evening. I would like to know your purpose in asking those last
+questions of Mrs. Bradley.”
+
+“I do not object to telling you,” replied Westgate. “It should have
+been plain to you at the time. My purpose was to make it clear to the
+bishop that the woman whom you or your friends produced in your behalf
+was utterly unworthy to testify in any matter relating to the welfare
+of the Church.”
+
+“Why unworthy?”
+
+“Because she is a menace to society, a disbeliever in God, a scoffer at
+religion, a woman who violates all rules of womanly propriety at her
+pleasure.”
+
+“Why do you make that last assertion?”
+
+“As she appears to be your assistant and associate in your economic
+enterprises, I presumed that you were familiar with her character and
+reputation. However, I may say that a woman who within three months of
+her husband’s death spreads her alluring net to entrap the weak-minded
+son of a millionaire, and at the same time openly consorts with another
+man, a demagogue, an atheist, a vilifier of both Church and state,
+surely such a woman cannot be described as a model of propriety.”
+
+The minister, by the exercise of great self-restraint, maintained his
+coolness and intrepidity.
+
+“The two men to whom you refer,” he said, “are Barry Malleson and
+Stephen Lamar. Will you kindly give me a single instance of unwomanly
+conduct on the part of Mrs. Bradley with either of them?”
+
+“Certainly! Had it not been for your interruption last night you would
+have heard it all then and there. It is a fact, as I intended to make
+her admit, that in the early evening, on the Malleson foot-bridge, she
+indulged in most unseemly demonstrations of affection with this man
+Lamar.”
+
+“Was that the occasion to which you referred last evening?”
+
+“It was.”
+
+“And it is your information that Lamar is the man who was with her on
+the bridge?”
+
+“Certainly! I can prove it.”
+
+“You are mistaken. I know who the man was, and it was not Stephen
+Lamar.”
+
+“Who was it, then?”
+
+“It was I, Robert Farrar.”
+
+“You!”
+
+“It was I. I helped Mrs. Bradley across the bridge.”
+
+“Impossible! This man had his arm around the woman’s waist.”
+
+“I had my arm about Mrs. Bradley’s waist. In that manner I assisted her
+across the bridge. Nor were there any demonstrations of affection of
+any kind.”
+
+The lawyer stared at his visitor in amazement. He could not conceive
+why this man should so frankly assume responsibility for an act of
+impropriety properly charged to another.
+
+“I don’t believe you,” he said, bluntly. “You are trying, for some
+inscrutable reason, to shield the woman.”
+
+“The woman needs no protection save against such slanderous tongues as
+yours.”
+
+Westgate did not resent the remark. Indeed, he did not fully appreciate
+it. He was too busily engaged in wondering at the minister’s attitude.
+For a moment he did not even reply. Then he asked:
+
+“Am I distinctly to understand that it was you and not Lamar who was
+with Mrs. Bradley on the bridge?”
+
+“I cannot make the statement of that fact too positive, nor can I state
+too positively that on that occasion Mrs. Bradley conducted herself as
+became a modest, refined, pure-minded woman. Westgate, some one has
+been telling you one of those half-truths which are ‘ever the worst
+of lies,’ and you have been only too eager to envelop it with an evil
+motive.”
+
+Still Westgate showed no resentment. He was apparently immersed in
+thought.
+
+“Do you realize,” he inquired at last, “what sort of a weapon you are
+putting into my hands to-day――a weapon with which I can, at any moment,
+blacken your character, and blast your career?”
+
+“I realize nothing,” replied the rector, “except that a woman’s good
+name has been attacked, and that it is my duty to defend her. If you
+choose to divert the knowledge I have given you to the base uses of
+slander, that will be your sin, not mine.”
+
+At last Westgate began to wake up. His face paled and he rose to his
+feet.
+
+“Mr. Farrar,” he said, “I think this interview had better come to an
+end.”
+
+“I quite agree with you,” was the response. “My errand is done. I have
+the explanation I came for. I believe that is all.”
+
+“So far as I am concerned, it is.”
+
+There were no more words on either side. The rector bowed politely, and
+then left the office, as clear-eyed, as high-minded and unafraid as
+when he entered it.
+
+But on Westgate’s soul there lay a burden of knowledge which was to
+tempt him sorely in the days to come.
+
+The story of the sensational episode at the conference with the bishop
+did not reach Barry Malleson’s ears until the second day after its
+occurrence. It came, as one might have expected it would, burdened with
+exaggerations. Barry was greatly disturbed. He walked aimlessly for a
+while about his quarters at the mill, then he put on his overcoat, hat
+and gloves, and announced that he was going up to see Phil Westgate.
+But when he got as far as Main Street he changed his mind, and started
+down-town instead. It had occurred to him that before attacking
+Westgate it might be wise to get the facts in the case directly from
+Mrs. Bradley. He would be more sure of his ground. When he reached
+Mrs. Bradley’s office in the Potter Building he found her engaged. He
+excused himself, backed out, paced up and down the hall for a few
+minutes, and then went down to the street. He did not go back up-town,
+but he walked down through the wholesale district, picked his way
+among boxes and barrels, and examined crates of fruit and vegetables
+and poultry. When, after a half hour, he returned to the office of the
+League, he found Mrs. Bradley alone. She had expected that he would
+return, and was waiting for him. It was not an unusual thing for him to
+visit her there; scarcely a day had passed of late that he had not come
+in on one errand or another. He was imbibing socialism slowly, as his
+mental system was able to absorb the doctrine. So far as he understood
+it he was willing to subscribe to its principles. There was a basic
+element of justice underlying it all that quite appealed to him. It is
+true that the socialists of the city did not greatly pride themselves
+on their secretary’s new convert, but this accession to their ranks
+gave deep satisfaction to Mrs. Bradley. Not that Barry’s assistance or
+influence amounted to much, but that she knew the thing to be a thorn
+in the flesh of Richard Malleson. Lying in the background of her mind,
+living and throbbing, as it did on that disastrous day in court, was
+still her revengeful purpose to annoy, to humiliate, to bring to defeat
+and disaster, if possible, the man who was responsible for her having
+been sent empty-handed from the hall of justice. Lamar understood her
+motive and sympathized with her. He even suffered her, without marked
+protest, to receive Barry’s open attentions. He knew that, in receiving
+them, the one thought in her mind was to harass the young man’s
+aristocratic father with the prospect of having for a daughter-in-law
+that queen of the proletarians, Mary Bradley. There was many a quip
+passed back and forth between them concerning Barry’s infatuation, and
+many an exchange of meaning glances, as together they instructed him in
+the elementary principles of socialism. And Barry, floundering beyond
+his depth in both philosophy and love, frowned on by his father,
+upbraided by his mother and sisters, ridiculed by his friends, sought
+solace ever more and more frequently in the company of the woman who
+had cast her spell upon him. He did not notice the care-worn look on
+her face, and the weariness in her eyes, as he reëntered her office
+that afternoon; the radiance of her smile made all else dim. And there
+was no abatement from the usual warmth of her welcome.
+
+“I’ve just heard,” said Barry, “about that affair up at Tracy’s night
+before last. I was going up to have it out with Phil, but I decided to
+come in and talk it over with you first.”
+
+“I’m so glad you did,” she said. “I don’t want you to have it out with
+him. I don’t want you to talk with him about it, or even mention it to
+him.”
+
+“But the thing’s all over town to-day.”
+
+“Who――whom do they say it was who is alleged to have been with me on
+the bridge?”
+
+“Why, Phil and that crowd allow it was Steve, but some say it was me.
+Now, you know I wasn’t there.”
+
+The look of anxiety dropped from her face and she laughed merrily.
+
+“Certainly!” she replied. “I know it was not you. And I’ve told you it
+wasn’t Steve.”
+
+“But it must have been somebody.”
+
+“Do you doubt me, Barry?”
+
+She had been calling him by his given name of late, and had given him
+permission to call her by hers.
+
+“N-no. Only the thing’s mighty funny. Jane Chichester swore she
+couldn’t be mistaken.”
+
+Mary Bradley laughed again.
+
+“Ah!” she said; “then it was Miss Chichester who witnessed that
+surprising exhibition of womanly immodesty. Don’t you think she was
+giving rein to her imagination?”
+
+“She might have been,” admitted Barry. “She does imagine things
+sometimes. Do you know, I think she imagines, sometimes, that I’m
+really going to marry her.”
+
+“But you’re not, are you, Barry?”
+
+“Mrs. Bradley!――I mean Mary――how can you ask such a question when you
+know my only ambition is to marry you.”
+
+“That’s very nice of you, Barry. But what would your father say to it?”
+
+“Oh, he’s dead set against it, of course.”
+
+“Why is he dead set against it?”
+
+“He thinks you’re not in our class.”
+
+“It would jolt his pride?”
+
+“It would smash it. But you know, Mary, that would make no difference
+to me.”
+
+“It might cost you your job.”
+
+“No fear of that. They can’t get along without me at the mill. Much of
+the success of the company is due to the way I manage things there.”
+
+“Indeed!” She smiled, and yet she felt that it was pathetic in a
+way――this man’s confidence in his own ability, his open-mindedness
+and sincerity. One thing only she rolled as a sweet morsel under her
+tongue: Richard Malleson’s distress at his son’s infatuation.
+
+But Barry’s mind still dwelt on the bridge incident. “If I thought,” he
+said, “that there was the slightest thing in that story of Jane’s about
+you and Steve――――”
+
+She reached her hand across the table and laid it on his as she had a
+habit of doing of late, and looked serenely into his eyes.
+
+“Barry,” she said, “you dear old f――fellow! If I thought there was the
+slightest danger of your getting jealous over that story, I’d make
+Jane Chichester eat her words. As it is, ‘the least said the soonest
+mended.’ Oh, here’s Steve now.”
+
+Lifting her eyes at the sound of footsteps in the hall she had
+discovered Lamar in the doorway, and had hastily withdrawn her hand.
+
+“Come in, Steve,” she called out to him. “Barry’s here. We were just
+talking about you.”
+
+“And I’ve just been talking about you,” replied Steve as he entered the
+room, giving scant notice to Barry, and seated himself at the end or
+the table.
+
+“What about me?” she inquired.
+
+“I’ve just heard,” he replied, “about the affair up at Tracy’s the
+other night, and about the way that bully-ragging lawyer heckled you. I
+was going right up there to take it out of his hide, but I thought I’d
+better come in first and get the thing straight.”
+
+“That’s right, Steve. That’s what Barry did. Didn’t you, Barry?”
+
+“Yes,” responded Barry. “I was going up there myself to have a reckoning
+with Phil; but Mary says, ‘Don’t go.’”
+
+“I say the same thing to you, Steve,” said the woman. “Don’t go. I
+want the matter dropped. I don’t want either of you to discuss it with
+another soul. If you do, the one that does it need never speak to me
+again.”
+
+She sat resolutely back in her chair, facing each man in turn, looking
+at them with eyes of authority.
+
+“But,” protested Lamar, “so far as I can understand, the whole town’s
+talking about it.”
+
+“Indeed!” she replied; “and which of you two gentlemen do they say was
+with me on the bridge?”
+
+“Why, they’re not quite sure.”
+
+“Then we’ll settle it here among ourselves. Was it you, Steve?”
+
+“I’ll swear it wasn’t,” emphatically.
+
+“Good! Was it you, Barry?”
+
+“No, Mrs. Bradley, on my soul it wasn’t.”
+
+“There you are, gentlemen. Honors are even.” She laughed and added:
+“Now you can shake hands and make up. The bridge incident is closed.”
+
+But Lamar sat staring at Barry incredulously. He had made up his mind
+that, since he had not been the man in the bridge case, it must
+necessarily have been Barry. And he had come to Mary Bradley, not alone
+for information with which to confront Westgate, but also to file a
+vigorous protest with her against her conduct with his inconsequential
+rival. Barry’s denial had taken the ground from under his feet. He
+could scarcely believe that the man was telling the truth, yet no one
+had ever known Barry to variate a hair’s breadth from the exact truth
+as he understood it.
+
+“Moreover,” added Mary Bradley, “it’s past closing time, and I want to
+start home this minute, and I will thank you gentlemen to permit me to
+close the office.”
+
+Both men rose to their feet, expressed their regret at having delayed
+her, said good-night to her, and went out together. Side by side they
+walked up the street, chatting as they went, brother socialists,
+friendly rivals for the favor of a fascinating woman. Lamar stopped at
+the Silver Star, but Barry would not go in. He had not yet reached that
+stage of the common fellowship game, where the drinking saloon has its
+attractions. Lamar went in alone, sat down at a table in the room to
+the rear of the bar, and over his glass of whiskey and soda he pondered
+the thing he had that day heard concerning Mary Bradley. Who was it
+who had crossed the bridge with her? Or was the story simply a vicious
+slander made up out of whole cloth? So faint and far away that at first
+he could barely grasp it, a suspicion arose. It took on form. It was
+shadowy and tenuous indeed. It faded out only to reappear. And, ever
+after, it followed him about, a ghost that he could not lay, and dared
+not challenge.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was a week after the conference that a letter came from the bishop
+of the diocese to the vestry of Christ Church. In it he deplored
+the quarrel that had arisen between certain of the vestrymen and
+the rector. He was grieved over the bitterness of spirit that had
+been displayed. He regretted that his godly judgment, exercised
+individually, both with the rector and his people, had not availed
+to settle the unhappy differences that were distracting the parish.
+He was pained beyond measure at the untoward result of the evening
+conference at the Tracy house. But since it seemed to be impossible
+for the parties to the controversy either themselves to adjust their
+differences or to accept such impartial advice as he had privately
+given them, he should not assume, alone and unaided, to decide the
+question of the forcible dissolution of the pastoral relation. He
+should ask the advice of the Standing Committee, as was his right under
+the canon. He should also consult with the chancellor of the diocese.
+And, proceeding with their aid and counsel, he would, in due time,
+render judgment on the matters in controversy.
+
+“In the meantime, brethren,” read his closing admonition, “let the
+spirit which was in Christ be in you all. Let not His religion be
+brought into disrepute by this unseemly quarrel; and let the integrity
+and dignity of the Church be maintained at all hazards.”
+
+But the good bishop said, confidentially, to a brother prelate: “Oh,
+that I could be a second Pilate, and take water and wash my hands
+before this accusing multitude, and say, ‘I am innocent of the blood of
+this just person, see ye to it.’”
+
+It was true that the bishop had intended to ask the advice of the
+Standing Committee, and to consult the chancellor of the diocese.
+Not that he expected to receive much disinterested aid from either
+source. For the chancellor was a well-known corporation lawyer whose
+skill and experience had for years been at the service of capital and
+of the ruling class. What his judgment would be in this matter could
+be readily foreseen. Nor was the prospect of receiving helpful advice
+from the Standing Committee much more encouraging. The presbyters of
+this committee were mostly rectors of churches controlled by rich and
+aristocratic members, or churches under the patronage and domination
+of certain families of wealth; while the lay members were all of the
+conservative, substantial, anti-socialistic type. It required no
+prophetic power to discover with which party to the controversy they
+would be in sympathy.
+
+After considering the matter, the bishop felt that, after all, it
+might be better for him to decide the case unaided. But how to decide
+it; that was the question. If he should comply with the demand of
+the vestry, and dissolve the pastoral relation, he would not only
+be putting upon the Church the stigma of catering to the rich, and
+disregarding and driving out the poor, but he would also be humiliating
+and disgracing a man who, however mistaken he might be in his methods,
+had violated no ecclesiastical law, and who was conscientiously and
+earnestly striving to bring the religion of Jesus Christ home to the
+common people. On the other hand, were he to sustain the rector, it
+would mean giving serious offense to those important and wealthy
+parishioners who in the past had made Christ Church the strongest and
+most influential body in the diocese. And what then would happen?
+Undoubtedly the church would be left to its fate; and its fate could
+easily be foretold. For the bishop did not delude himself with the
+belief or hope that the class of people who had recently become
+attracted and attached to the rector, together with his old friends
+who still stood by him, would either be able or willing to support
+and maintain the customary activities of the church. Indeed, his
+wide experience and his worldly wisdom led him to a far different
+conclusion. So what was he to do? He decided that for the present
+he would do nothing. He would delay his decision in the hope――a
+forlorn hope, indeed――that the parties themselves would settle their
+controversy, or that, before the day of necessary action should come, a
+kind Providence would in some way relieve him of his embarrassment.
+
+The agreement between the Malleson Manufacturing Company and its
+employees was to expire on the first day of January. The men demanded
+a new agreement, and, under the leadership of Bricky Hoover, set
+about to obtain it. The new agreement, they declared, must provide
+for a schedule of wages which would show a ten per cent. advance.
+There must also be better pay for overtime, the discharge of all
+non-union employees, and full recognition of the union in all matters
+pertaining to the employment of labor. The men were sustained in
+their demand by the local unions to which they belonged, and their
+action was fully and formally approved by the central body. Of
+course the Malleson Company protested, and declined to accede to the
+demands. There were counter-propositions and conferences; but neither
+side would yield. The first day of January came and went. By tacit
+agreement work was continued, awaiting a settlement. But no settlement
+came. Day by day the situation grew more critical. Finally, at a
+mass-meeting of employees, peremptory instructions were given to the
+strike committee, in pursuance of which an ultimatum was issued to
+the company to the effect that unless within three days the demands
+of the men were complied with the strike order would go into effect.
+On the afternoon of the last day Richard Malleson called together his
+board of directors, and, after careful and serious consideration of
+the situation, they decided to yield. It was really the only thing
+to do. Of course there was a choice between two evils; on the one
+hand the practical wiping out of profits through increased wages and
+shorter hours, on the other the disaster that would come with and
+follow a long and costly strike. The president of the company advised
+his associates to choose the first horn of the dilemma, and they did
+so. But they chose it despairingly and resentfully, with bitterness
+in their hearts. The men, of course, were jubilant. They had obtained
+practically everything for which they had asked. On one point only had
+they yielded. The seven non-union employees were permitted to remain.
+But, as an offset, a clause was inserted in the new agreement to the
+effect that no discrimination of any kind, at any time, should be made
+against any one on account of his affiliation with a union, nor on
+account of his participation in the controversy, nor on account――and
+this was emphasized――of his leadership in the successful fight for
+better conditions. So work did not cease, wages were advanced, hours
+were shortened, the rights of labor had been sustained, a long step
+had been taken toward the goal which the workingman has always in
+view. Steve Lamar and Bricky Hoover were the heroes of the hour. The
+first because he had so skilfully planned and directed the contest,
+the second because, as leader and spokesman, he had come out of every
+conference with flying colors, and by sheer persistence had brought
+Richard Malleson and his capitalistic partners to their knees.
+
+On the evening following the signing of the new wage-agreement the
+barroom of the Silver Star was crowded. It was still early, but
+there was barely standing room in the place. When Lamar and Hoover
+entered together a great shout went up. Every foaming glass was held
+high and clinked loudly, and drained to the bottom in their honor.
+These, indeed, were the men to free labor from its chains. Smilingly,
+deprecatingly as became them, they acknowledged the greeting and
+passed on into the inner room which had been the scene of so many of
+their conferences. When they were seated at a table, their glasses
+half-drained, the tips of their cigars glowing cheerily, Lamar looked
+at Bricky, smiled and said:
+
+“Well?”
+
+And Bricky smiled back and replied:
+
+“Well?”
+
+“So far so good,” said Lamar. “Now for the strike.”
+
+“The what?” asked Bricky.
+
+“The strike.”
+
+“Why, man, ain’t that just what we’ve got away from with whole hides?”
+
+“I wasn’t hell-bent on getting away from it, Bricky. Didn’t I tell you
+a month ago, in this very room, that there’d got to be a strike?”
+
+“Sure! But we’ve got what we wanted without it.”
+
+“Not yet we haven’t.”
+
+“What more do we want?”
+
+“We want to smash Dick Malleson.”
+
+Bricky pondered for a moment.
+
+“Ye didn’t fall far short o’ smashin’ him,” he said finally. “But how
+in heaven’s name will ye git a strike now?”
+
+Lamar took an equal length of time before replying.
+
+“Bricky,” he said at last, “you’ve got to be discharged.”
+
+“Me? Discharged? What for?”
+
+“Oh, anything. Neglect of duty. Impertinence. Sabotage. Can’t you see
+that you’re what the diplomats call _non persona grata_ at capitalistic
+headquarters? You’ve put up a successful fight. You’re a union leader.
+You’re a warrior in the ranks of labor. Bricky, you’re an agitator,
+you’re a menace; you’ve got to go. Confound you, man! Can’t you see
+what I’m driving at?”
+
+Bricky was not so dull but that he saw. Yet he did not seem to be very
+favorably impressed with Lamar’s plan. He thought about it for a moment
+before answering.
+
+“So I’m to be made the goat, am I?” he said, at last.
+
+“You’re to be made the goat. That’s right. But you’ll feed high.
+Remember what I say: you’ll feed high.”
+
+Again Bricky pondered. Then he repeated Lamar’s words:
+
+“‘Neglect of duty. Impertinence. Sabotage.’ What the hell’s sabotage,
+Steve?”
+
+“Oh, creating a little incidental damage now and then. Monkeying with
+the machinery. Putting it out of commission. I don’t mean stupidly
+smashing it, you know. Just getting it out of order occasionally,
+in a way that it’ll take half a day to fix it up. You can do it all
+right. Keep it up. Spoil a piece of work once in a while. Be careless.
+Be damned careless. Of course they’ll bring you up for it. They’ll
+send you to the office. There’s where you can get in a nice line of
+impertinence. You’ll get your walking papers. The boys won’t stand for
+it. They won’t see you put upon. Not one of them. They’ll strike in
+less than twelve hours. I know what I’m talking about.”
+
+Still Bricky pondered. It was apparent that he was not enthusiastic
+over the proposition. He did not refuse it, but he wanted to think it
+over. It must have been a full minute before he looked up and inquired:
+
+“And where do you say I get off?”
+
+“At the corner of Greenback Avenue and Easy Street.”
+
+Bricky filled his glass again, drained it and set it down.
+
+“Steve,” he asked, “what you got agin old man Malleson anyhow? I should
+naturally s’pose that if you had anything in for anybody you’d have it
+in for the young cub.”
+
+Lamar tossed his head impatiently.
+
+“Oh,” he replied, “he counts for nothing. He’s simply a damned fool.
+It’s the old man that I’ve got a grudge against.”
+
+“What’s your grudge?”
+
+“Well, for one thing, he sent John Bradley penniless to his grave. John
+was a friend of mine.”
+
+“So. But I don’t see as you’ve got any great kick comin’ there. John
+left a perty good-lookin’ widder, didn’t he?”
+
+“What’s that got to do with it?”
+
+“Perty good friend o’ yourn, ain’t she?”
+
+“I hope so. What are you driving at?”
+
+“Oh, nothin’ much. Only if John was still on this earthly sp’ere your
+chances would be more limited, wouldn’t they?”
+
+Lamar laughed. “Perhaps so,” he said. “You’ve got a long head, Bricky.”
+
+“Sure, I’ve got a long head. I can put two an’ two together as well as
+the next man. The widder wants to smash Dick Malleson’s pocketbook. You
+want to smash the widder’s heart. I ain’t blamin’ either of ye. Ye’ve
+both got plenty of aggravation. So you want my help, do you, Steve?”
+
+“I want your help.”
+
+“An’ you’re willin’ to pay for it?”
+
+“I’ll pay you well.”
+
+“All right! Let’s git down to brass tacks. Push that button, will ye?
+I’m dry.”
+
+Lamar pushed the button. More liquid cheer was brought in. After that
+the conference was still more confidential. At the end of twenty
+minutes they rose, clinked their glasses, drank to each other’s
+success, and left the place.
+
+Stephen Lamar went straight from the Silver Star saloon to the home of
+Mary Bradley on Factory Hill.
+
+“I beg to report,” he said to her, “that your orders concerning Richard
+Malleson are in process of execution.”
+
+“What have you done to him?” she asked.
+
+“I’ve compelled him to sign a new agreement to avoid a strike.”
+
+“I know you have. You’ve given him a chance to save himself when you
+might have crushed him.”
+
+“Don’t be too fast. I know what I’m about. The new agreement will hurt
+him more than two strikes would.”
+
+“How do you make that out?”
+
+“He can’t afford to pay the scale. It’s ruinous. It eats up all
+profits. I know. I have it straight from his own office.”
+
+“But it doesn’t wreck him. I want him wrecked. He’ll meet the scale by
+raising the price of his product.”
+
+“He can’t. Competition’s too keen. He’s not in the trust.”
+
+“Oh, he’ll meet the situation somehow. He’s got a long head. You should
+have had the strike. You’ve made a mistake.”
+
+Lamar laughed. “You’re too impatient,” he said. “You don’t see the end
+of the plot. There’s going to be a strike.”
+
+“Who says so?”
+
+“I do.”
+
+“Haven’t the men just signed a new wage-scale?”
+
+“Yes, but there’s going to be a strike just the same.”
+
+“On what ground?”
+
+“Bricky Hoover’s going to be discharged.”
+
+“How do you know that?”
+
+“Never mind how I know it. I know it. Bricky’s going to be discharged.
+He’s an infernal agitator. He’s the idol of the men. They won’t see him
+punished. There’ll be a strike within twenty-four hours after he gets
+his papers. You wait and see.”
+
+For a minute she sat quietly, turning the matter over in her mind. Then
+she looked up at him.
+
+“Steve,” she said, “you’re a wonder.” His scheme had become clear to
+her.
+
+“I can do a good deal,” he replied, “when there’s the right inducement.
+In this case you’re the inducement.”
+
+She paid little heed to his remark. She was again thinking. At last she
+asked, as if to assure herself of the fact:
+
+“You say the new wage-scale is ruinous?”
+
+“Yes, I know it. It carries him more than half-way to financial
+destruction.”
+
+“And on top of that you propose to precipitate a strike?”
+
+“Exactly. That will be the final twist of the rope.”
+
+“Good! You’re doing bravely. Keep it up. You have my sympathy and
+congratulations.”
+
+“Thank you, Mary. But I want more than sympathy and congratulations.”
+
+“What do you want? You know I have no money.”
+
+“Money be damned! I want my reward.”
+
+“What reward?”
+
+“You know well enough. You said that when I had Richard Malleson
+smashed I should have a man’s reward. I want a foretaste of it
+to-night. I’ve earned it.”
+
+“And what is a man’s reward?”
+
+“It’s a woman’s love. There’s nothing else under heaven that’s worth
+working for or fighting for.”
+
+There was no doubt that he meant what he said. The look in his eyes,
+the flush on his face, the big shoulders bent toward her, all proved
+it. She, herself, knew that to obtain some manifestation of love from
+her he would be willing to fight all the powers of earth and air. But
+her countenance did not change by so much as the dropping of an eyelid.
+She looked at him unflinchingly.
+
+“I understand you,” she said. “You want me to say that I love you.”
+
+“Yes. And not only to say it, but to prove it.”
+
+Still she was calm, deliberate.
+
+“Let me see,” she asked; “you have a wife?”
+
+“Yes, but she’s nothing to me.”
+
+“Why not?”
+
+“Because there’s no love between us. Marriage without love is legal
+debasement. Love without marriage may reach the supreme height of human
+happiness.”
+
+Suddenly she appeared to grow interested. Her cheeks flushed and her
+eyes shone. He thought she was seeing something of his vision.
+
+“Do you think,” she asked, “that a married man has a moral right to
+love a woman who is not his wife?”
+
+“Undoubtedly, when the woman who is his wife has ceased to care for
+him. The marriage contract is binding in conscience, and should be in
+law, only so long as love lasts between the parties to it. You are
+a socialist. You know what our doctrine is. In the coming socialist
+commonwealth there will be no permanent marriage bond. It will be a
+bond that can be dissolved at will. It will accommodate itself to the
+happiness of those affected by it. That’s the doctrine of Marx and
+Bebel and Belfort Bax. Then a man will be legally as well as morally
+free to put off a dead love and take on a living one. It’s a living
+love that, with your help, I shall take on to-night.”
+
+She appeared to drink in his words.
+
+“And what about the woman?” she asked; “the woman who loves a married
+man? Has she a right to do that? Has she a right, if the time should be
+opportune, to tell him so?”
+
+“It’s the right of every woman to seek happiness where she can find it;
+to ask for it if she will; it’s her duty to take it when it’s offered
+to her, as I offer it to you to-night.”
+
+“And, Steve, if a man’s wife is nothing to him, if she has no sympathy
+with him, if she’s a millstone about his neck, and he can have the love
+of another woman who is fond of him, oh, passionately fond of him, do
+you think it would be wrong for either of them to give himself to――to
+give herself unreservedly to the other? Do you, Steve? Do you?”
+
+She was leaning toward him, eager, excited, her eyes glowing, her lips
+parted, her white teeth gleaming, her breast heaving with emotion.
+To the man who craved her she was wildly fascinating. He had never
+before seen her when she so appealed to every atom of his nature. Drawn
+irresistibly, he moved closer to her.
+
+“Wrong?” he exclaimed. “Nothing under heaven would be more just. What
+are laws in the face of a passion like ours? In the new socialistic
+state there will be no such laws. And whatever would be right and of
+good conscience then is right and of good conscience now, in spite of
+all the capitalistic laws that were ever invented to oppress humanity.”
+
+He moved still closer to her, and took up her hand which was hanging
+loosely at her side, and held it and caressed it. She made no
+remonstrance; she did not appear to notice what he was doing. It was
+plain to him that this woman who had held him in check and at bay for
+months was at last ready to yield to his importunities.
+
+“That would be heavenly,” she said, and she seemed to be talking to
+herself rather than to him, “heavenly! But we would need to hide it; we
+would have to keep it secret――for a time.”
+
+His face was so close to hers that she might have felt his breath upon
+her cheek.
+
+“No, dear,” he answered her, “we do not need to hide it. People who
+know us and believe in us, and for whose opinions we care, will not
+criticize us; all others may do so to their heart’s content. It will
+not matter to us; we shall be supremely happy in spite of them.”
+
+He passed his arm around her shoulders and drew her face against his.
+
+Then, suddenly, she awoke. She threw his arm from her as if it had been
+a serpent coiled about her body. She wrenched herself free from him,
+and sprang to her feet. In the excitement her chair was overturned
+and fell with a crash to the floor. The door leading from the kitchen
+was pushed open from without, and an old woman, with frightened eyes,
+looked in.
+
+“What’s the matter, Mary?” she asked.
+
+“Nothing, mother. Everything’s all right; come in.”
+
+Lamar picked up the chair, and stood with flushed and scowling face.
+
+“What was all the noise about?” asked the old woman.
+
+“Why, Steve was just going, and he accidentally tipped over his chair
+getting up, that’s all. You needn’t go back into the kitchen, mother.
+Steve isn’t going to stay any longer.”
+
+The man’s scowl deepened. “But there’s more I want to say to you,” he
+said, “and I want to say it to you alone.”
+
+“Not to-night, Steve. Some other time, perhaps. I want to think over
+what you’ve already told me. You’ve given me some wonderful ideas, some
+heavenly hopes. I want to think them over.”
+
+“And I want my reward. I’ve earned it. I insist on having it.”
+
+She laughed. “Steve’s joking, mother,” she said. She faced him jauntily.
+“Not to-night, comrade. Wait till the wreck is more complete. Wait till
+the socialist commonwealth is more nearly established. Oh, you shall
+have it; in due time you shall have it――a man’s reward.”
+
+She smiled up into his face as winsomely, as charmingly, as modestly,
+as a young girl would smile into her first lover’s face on the eve of
+her betrothal.
+
+“Good-night, Steve,” she added, “and my thanks to you, and good luck to
+you. Keep on. Revenge is sweet. But remember: there’s a thing that’s
+sweeter than revenge.”
+
+She helped him into his overcoat as she talked, gave him his cap, went
+with him to the door, and closed it behind him as he passed out. When
+he was gone the old woman said to her:
+
+“Mary, I don’t like the look o’ things.”
+
+“There’s nothing to worry about, mother.”
+
+“But I don’t like the look o’ things,” she repeated. “That man ain’t
+safe. I wish he wouldn’t come here any more.”
+
+“Why, he’s as harmless as a baby.”
+
+“He ain’t. He’s dangerous. I see it in his eyes. He’ll kill you some
+day; I know he will.”
+
+Mary Bradley laughed, and put her arm around the old woman’s waist, and
+kissed her wrinkled face.
+
+“You dear old fool!” she said. “Neither Crœsus nor the king could
+induce him to hurt me by so much as a pin-prick. I can twist him round
+my little finger every hour in the day.”
+
+“Do you love him, Mary?”
+
+“Let me tell you, mother. For what he has told me to-night, for the
+hope he has given me, for the promise of pure joy he has set before me,
+I adore him.”
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XVI
+
+                        “THE DARKNESS DEEPENS”
+
+
+There was no abatement in the vigor with which the rector of Christ
+Church attacked the sins of capitalism, the curse of wage-slavery, the
+glaring inequalities of the existing social order. In the pulpit, on
+the platform, to the man in the street, anywhere, everywhere, in season
+and out of season, he preached his new gospel of the brotherhood of
+man. But he did not call it a new gospel. He called it the old gospel,
+proclaimed by Jesus Christ as the one foundation on which all human
+character and conduct must be built. He was acclaimed by the toiler,
+and cursed by the capitalist. His fame spread beyond the borders of his
+city and his state. The newspapers reported his sermons and speeches
+as matters of interest to the general public. Soap-box orators quoted
+him with approval. Socialists regarded him as one of their own kind;
+not quite, but almost persuaded to an acceptance of all their tenets
+and beliefs. There were some things in the socialistic creed to which
+he could not yet subscribe. He had little sympathy with the purely
+materialistic conception of the cause and basis of either happiness or
+misery in this life. He believed, with his Lord, that “The life is more
+than meat, and the body more than raiment.”
+
+He could not concede the right of men and women to free themselves from
+a marriage bond which has become burdensome save for the one cause set
+down in Holy Scripture.
+
+He could not quite assent to the doctrine that confiscation of private
+property by the state, beyond the customary exercise of the right
+of eminent domain, in order that it might be administered for the
+economic betterment of all, was either politically wise or ethically
+correct.
+
+Certainly he was not ready to participate in a sudden and violent
+overturning of the existing social order for the purpose of hastening
+the coming of the social commonwealth.
+
+But he was absorbed in the idea of, and immersed in the plans for
+alleviating the hardships of the poor. He looked to and labored for
+such a rearrangement of the social order, that all men who toiled,
+either with hand or brain, should share alike in the largess of the
+fruitful earth, and in the material bounty of God.
+
+It was his aim so to instil the religion of Christ into the hearts
+of the classes that ultimately there would be no classes, no swollen
+fortunes, no dire poverty, no social distinctions, but that all men
+would dwell together in Christian fellowship as did the brethren of the
+early Church.
+
+And it was his desire and ambition that this plan of Christian living
+should have its foremost modern exemplification in the parish of Christ
+Church.
+
+In his night interview with the bishop he had stated his position with
+such cogent reasoning, with such eloquent appeal, that that dignitary
+of the Church was not prepared to confound his argument or to suppress
+his enthusiasm either by episcopal wisdom or by fatherly remonstrance.
+Moreover he taught nothing in contravention of the doctrines of the
+Church. He preached no gospel that had not been preached by the
+Carpenter of Nazareth among the hills of Galilee, on the shores of
+Gennesareth, or in the shadow of the temple at Jerusalem. No wonder the
+bishop could not decide which horn of the dilemma to take concerning
+the matter in controversy. No wonder the protesting parishioners became
+impatient at his delay. Many of them, indeed, grew discouraged and then
+indifferent. Some of them severed their connection with the parish
+absolutely and attached themselves to St. Timothy’s up-town. Others
+absented themselves entirely from divine service, or became occasional
+attendants at other Protestant churches in the city. The prominent
+and pompous woman who had threatened to go over to the Church of Rome
+carried out her threat. She felt that now she ran no farther risk of
+contamination, that she was where socialism is practically, if not
+officially, anathema.
+
+But there was no diminution in the attendance at the services of Christ
+Church. As familiar faces disappeared from the pews new ones, stamped
+with the insignia of toil, took their places. No magnet ever drew
+to itself the filings of steel with surer power than this magnetic
+preacher drew to himself the human filings from the social mass.
+
+But the institutional life of the church suffered. As the old workers,
+displeased or disheartened, or unduly influenced, forsook their tasks,
+it was with extreme difficulty that others were found with sufficient
+zeal and adaptability and religious culture to fill their places.
+Indeed, many places remained wholly unfilled, and the rector and his
+curate were obliged to do double duty by taking up the neglected work
+and doing it as best they could. Funds for these church activities
+were also lacking. Many of the rich and the well-to-do who had
+contributed liberally in the past were now giving niggardly sums, or
+were withholding their contributions altogether. And in the absence of
+both workers and money it was not strange that the work itself should
+languish.
+
+But the rector was not discouraged. He felt that the tide would
+eventually turn; that God would not permit the institutions of His
+Church permanently to suffer, nor His poor always to go uncared for.
+And who could say that it was not His plan to bring “trouble and
+distress” upon His people in order to make more emphatic the ushering
+in of that new social régime in which poverty and trouble and distress
+could never gain a foothold.
+
+It was not only the guilds of the church that suffered for lack of
+money; the church itself was deplorably short of funds. Receipts
+from pew rents had fallen off sadly. Pewholders, reminded of their
+obligations, replied that those obligations were conditioned on the
+preaching of the gospel of Jesus Christ, and not the gospel of Karl
+Marx, from the pulpit of Christ Church. The alms-basins which in the
+old days had been presented at the altar heaped with the bank bills
+placed thereon by the wealthy and the well-to-do, came now, sparsely
+lined instead, with the nickels and the pennies of the poor. And while
+widows’ mites might be gloriously acceptable in the eyes of God, it
+needed vastly more of them than were received to carry on successfully
+the activities of Christ Church. The Episcopal and Convention Fund
+assessment was hopelessly in arrears; so was the missionary allotment;
+even the rector’s salary was in jeopardy by reason of the lack of
+funds. When that salary was paid to him he found it necessary to use
+a good part of it to relieve cases of destitution, and to meet other
+emergencies which could not, in these days, otherwise be met. But he
+did not complain. He simply set about to see what he could personally
+do without, and he admonished his wife that the cost of living at
+the rectory would need to be reduced. On the following Sunday, after
+reading the announcements, he called the attention of the congregation
+to the fact that, owing to the withdrawal of financial support by many
+members of the parish, the funds of the church, available for carrying
+on its work, had been exhausted, and the treasury was facing a serious
+deficit. He therefore appealed to all attendants on the services, and
+to all those interested in supporting the activities and maintaining
+the dignity of Christ Church, to be liberal in their contributions,
+that the Lord’s work might be unhampered and undiminished. From a few
+there came an immediate response to his appeal. But many heard it with
+indifference, or else doled out grudgingly a few more pennies. One
+hard-handed toiler, as he shuffled down the aisle at the close of the
+service, was heard to say:
+
+“I t’ought religion was free. If I got to pay money for it like I do
+for beer, w’y I guess I can git along wit’out it.”
+
+There were many more, not so outspoken, across whose minds trickled the
+same thought. It is strange how the ardor of men in any cause, not even
+excepting the cause of religion, will become suddenly dampened by an
+appeal to them to support it by liberal contributions of money.
+
+Of those who had espoused the cause of the rector from the start,
+the ranks were practically unbroken. Those who believed in him and
+adhered to him were still faithful, and devoted to the carrying out
+of his purpose. Yet some among them, especially men of experience and
+business training, began to be doubtful of the outcome. More than one
+of them, watching the course of events, noting the depletion of funds
+and the circumscribing of activities, expressed frankly to the rector
+their fears for the future. He made light of their doubts and urged
+them to still greater zeal. He assured them that the battle would
+eventually be won, that the principles of the Christian religion were
+at stake, and that God would not permit the integrity of His Church to
+be successfully assailed, nor the upholders of His gospel to go down to
+defeat. So he inspired them anew, and the fight went on.
+
+But no person in the entire parish kept in closer touch with the
+situation, or was better informed concerning the progress of events,
+than was Mary Bradley. She exhausted all possible sources of information
+to keep herself conversant with conditions. Passionately desirous of
+seeing the rector of Christ Church win his battle for social
+righteousness, she knew, nevertheless, that he was waging a losing
+fight, and that he had already reached the point where capitulation was
+necessary, if he would save himself. She had said as much to Barry
+Malleson weeks ago. She longed to say it now to the rector himself. She
+could as little bear to see him go on, unwittingly, to sure destruction,
+as she could bear to see him yield the splendid position he had taken in
+behalf of humble humanity.
+
+When Barry came in one day he told her he had heard that the vestry
+was about to curtail the rector’s salary, or to refuse payment of it
+altogether, on the ground that he had violated his contract with the
+parish by engaging in activities antagonistic to the Church and to the
+Christian religion.
+
+“Barry,” she said, “I want you to go with me to the rectory.”
+
+He looked up inquiringly.
+
+“What――what for?” he asked.
+
+“I want to tell that man to call quits, and save his life,” she
+replied. “If he doesn’t, they’ll murder him.”
+
+Barry stared at her in astonishment.
+
+“Why,” he stammered, “it――it isn’t as bad as that.”
+
+“It’s just the same as murder,” she said. “They’re taking the clothes
+off his back, the bread out of his mouth, the heart that strengthens
+and glorifies him out of his body. Come!”
+
+She had already put on her hat and coat, and was drawing on her gloves.
+Barry followed her in blind obedience. Why she had asked him to go with
+her he did not stop to inquire. It was enough that she wished it. He
+would have followed her, at her bidding, to the end of the world. But
+she knew why she had asked him. In these crucial days the rector’s name
+must be kept above the slightest taint of suspicion. Therefore Mary
+Bradley must not go alone to visit him. And Barry Malleson was the only
+person on earth whom she would be willing to have hear her message,
+save the person to whom she should speak it. For Barry was absolutely
+faithful, honorable and simple-minded. So, together, they went out and
+walked up the street in the mild sunlight of the January day, paying
+little heed to the glances cast at them, ignorant of the comments that
+their appearance in each other’s company aroused; comments wise and
+foolish, grave and gay, scandalous and laudatory, according to the
+cleanness of heart and clearness of vision of those who made them.
+
+Some one, mischievously inclined, entering a department store, saw Jane
+Chichester sitting at a counter, and said: “Jane, the king of comedy
+and the queen of fallacy are passing by.”
+
+“What’s that?” asked Miss Chichester.
+
+“Oh, Barry Malleson and Mrs. Bradley just went up the sidewalk
+together.”
+
+“The idea!” exclaimed Miss Chichester. And with nervous fingers
+she thrust her change into her purse and her purchases into her
+shopping-bag, and hurried to the street. Sure enough, just turning
+the next corner, she saw them――and she followed after them. When she
+too reached the corner they were half-way down the block on the side
+street, and at the next crossing they turned and went over toward the
+rectory of Christ Church. Miss Chichester saw them pass up the walk,
+mount the steps, and enter the house. A wave of mad jealousy swept into
+her heart; an unreasoning fear settled down upon her. What did it mean?
+Why did they appear to be so absorbed in each other? Why were they
+seeking the rector of Christ Church? Had there been some sudden resolve
+upon matrimony? some sudden decision to have the marriage service
+performed before any restraining influence or actual force could be
+exerted by Barry’s family?
+
+So Miss Chichester, too, crossed the street, went up the rectory steps,
+rang the bell and was admitted to the house.
+
+Barry and Mrs. Bradley were in the study with the minister. A maid
+announced that Miss Chichester was in the drawing-room and desired to
+see Mr. Farrar at once.
+
+“Say to her that I will soon be at liberty,” said the rector.
+
+“We shall keep you but a few minutes,” declared Mrs. Bradley.
+
+But Barry looked up with startled eyes and exclaimed:
+
+“Oh, I’m sure Jane is in no haste. It’s――nothing important. She needn’t
+wait. Let her come back later.”
+
+But the maid had already disappeared, and Mr. Farrar made no effort to
+modify the message sent to his waiting guest.
+
+“What I came for,” said Mrs. Bradley, “is to tell you that in my
+judgment the time has come for you to drop your fight against the
+opposing forces in your church, and make terms with your vestry.”
+
+“Mrs. Bradley! Why do you come to me with that message? You have been
+one of my most valiant supporters.”
+
+“Because they are going to crush you unless you yield. Your church is
+already on the way to destruction.”
+
+“That’s treason, Mrs. Bradley. Have you changed your opinion about the
+righteousness of my cause?”
+
+“Not in the slightest degree.”
+
+“And do you think then that God will permit unrighteousness to prevail?”
+
+“I know little about God’s purposes. I only know what power these men
+have to destroy you, and I know they are going to use their power
+without mercy.”
+
+Barry broke in. “That’s right, Farrar,” he said. “Phil and Boston
+and the rest of them have got you in their grip. I heard to-day that
+they’re going to choke off your salary. That’s where the shoe will
+pinch. So Mary and I have decided that you’d better call the whole
+thing off, and get back into harness as it were.”
+
+“Let me understand you,” said the rector. “It is not because either of
+you think that I am in the wrong that you advocate surrender?”
+
+“No,” came the answer in unison.
+
+“But because you believe it to be expedient?”
+
+“Exactly,” replied Barry. But Mrs. Bradley added:
+
+“I am thinking of your family.”
+
+“I, too, have thought of my family,” came the response. “We are all in
+God’s hands. I have no doubt, if the worst should come to the worst, He
+will point out to me a way to provide for them.”
+
+“And I am thinking also of your career,” she added.
+
+“A career,” he said, “built upon the suppression of honest thought, and
+made successful by fawning upon the rich while the poor are crying out
+for social, spiritual and material bread, would be a most inglorious
+and unhallowed thing.”
+
+Then she spoke more bluntly.
+
+“You are too visionary,” she said. “You are too spiritual, too
+religious and high-minded to cope with the crowd that is hunting you.
+They have planned your destruction, and they are going to accomplish
+it. There isn’t any God anywhere who can save you. You’ve got to
+save yourself or you’ll perish. I know it. I had to tell you this. I
+wouldn’t be human if I kept it to myself.”
+
+He did not reprove her or try to reason with her. The argumentative
+stage in the struggle had long passed by. But he was equally blunt and
+insistent in his answer.
+
+“Mrs. Bradley,” he said, “if I were sure that my crusade would bring me
+to the debtor’s prison or the hangman’s rope, I would not abate one jot
+or tittle from my effort. My reason and my conscience have convinced
+me that I am right; and my duty to God and myself and my fellow-men
+impels me irresistibly forward.”
+
+He said it with such intensity of expression, both of looks and voice,
+that Barry, easily moved as he always was, half rose from his chair,
+and brought his hands together with a resounding whack.
+
+“That’s the stuff!” he exclaimed. “Farrar, you’re game to the backbone!
+I’m with you, old man; count on me!” Then his eyes fell upon Mrs.
+Bradley, and he began to apologize. “Pardon me, Mary! I didn’t think.
+You don’t want him to stick it out, do you?”
+
+She did not answer him at once. Her eyes were moist, and her lip was
+trembling. When she did speak she said:
+
+“You don’t need to apologize, Barry. You’ve spoken for me.”
+
+She rose and held out her hand to the minister in farewell. “I have
+done my errand,” she said. “I came on it sincerely and earnestly and
+with a good conscience, and――I thank God it has failed.”
+
+It was not an expression of piety, for she was not pious; but no other
+words, in that moment, could have embodied her thought. She turned
+toward the door.
+
+“Come, Barry,” she said, “we’ll go now.”
+
+But Barry, suddenly remembering the waiting guest in the drawing-room,
+replied:
+
+“Why, I――I think I’ll stay here in Farrar’s study for a while. I――he’s
+got some books here I want to look at.”
+
+“No, Barry. I want you with me. I want you to go to the street with me,
+and walk back with me to my office.”
+
+This time he did not demur. He saw that she was in earnest. He knew
+that she had some good reason for wishing him to go, and he went.
+
+As they passed down the hall they met Jane Chichester at the door of
+the drawing-room. Her cheeks were scarlet and her eyes were wild.
+
+“What does this mean?” she exclaimed. “Barry Malleson, what have you
+been doing?”
+
+“Why,” stammered Barry, “I――we――we’ve been calling on the rector.”
+
+“What for?” she demanded.
+
+“Is it necessary,” asked Mary Bradley, quietly, “that you should know?”
+
+“I’ve a right to know,” she replied. “I’ve a right to protect this man.
+You’ve bewitched him and deceived him till he doesn’t know his own
+mind. Mr. Farrar!” she cried, “what has happened here? I must know! I
+will know!”
+
+The rector, standing in the doorway of his study, had looked on amazed
+at this spectacle of insane jealousy. He realized, suddenly, that he
+must take control of the situation.
+
+“Jane Chichester,” he said, “come into my study at once.” He spoke
+quietly, but with a voice and manner that compelled obedience to his
+command. And Jane Chichester went, but she went in a storm of tears, a
+woman’s last and most effective weapon of defense.
+
+The siege being thus raised, Mrs. Bradley and her escort left the
+house, descended the steps, and passed down the walk to the street.
+There Barry paused long enough to bare his head to the winter air, and
+mop the perspiration from his brow.
+
+“Barry,” said Mrs. Bradley, “you’re a lucky man. I congratulate you.”
+
+“It was,” panted Barry, “a devilish narrow escape.”
+
+“I don’t mean that. You’re not married to the woman, are you?”
+
+“Good Lord, no!”
+
+“Nor engaged to her?”
+
+“Heaven forbid!”
+
+“Well, a man who is capable of arousing such insane jealousy as that in
+the breast of a woman to whom he is neither married nor engaged is one
+among ten thousand. I beg that you’ll not lose your head over it.”
+
+“My head,” replied Barry, “is safe enough, but about one more adventure
+like that would send my mind to the scrap-heap.”
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+On a certain day, late in January, Bricky Hoover was peremptorily
+dismissed from the employ of the Malleson Manufacturing Company. It
+was charged against him that he had been guilty of gross negligence,
+of sabotage, of impertinence to the manager of the mills. But all of
+his fellow-employees knew, indeed all of the wage-workers in the city
+knew that the real reason for his dismissal was that he had been too
+aggressive in behalf of union labor, and that his aggressiveness and
+persistency had resulted in a victory for the men. He was the first to
+go because he had been the most prominent. Others would follow; there
+was little doubt of that. It was apparent that the company had started
+in on a policy of weeding out agitators and strike-promoters. The only
+question was who would be the next one to be dismissed. Feeling among
+the men ran high. Sympathy with the discharged employee was general
+among the laboring classes. Resentment over the manner in which he had
+been thrust out was deep and wide-spread. Would union labor stand for
+it? Of course union labor would not.
+
+The discharge was on Friday. On the afternoon of the following Sunday
+a mass-meeting of the Malleson employees was held at Carpenter’s Hall,
+and, with scarcely a dissenting vote, a resolution was adopted to
+the effect that if Thomas Hoover was not reinstated in his position,
+without condition, within twenty-four hours from the time of presenting
+the resolution to the officers of the company, there would be a
+walk-out of every workman employed in the mills.
+
+The committee in charge of the resolution presented it to the president
+of the company at his office on Monday morning. He called the attention
+of his visitors to the fact that his employees had recently signed
+a contract, agreeing to remain in the employ of the company for one
+year. They replied that the agreement also contained a clause to the
+effect that no one should be discriminated against on account of any
+part he had taken in procuring the new wage-scale, or by reason of his
+affiliation with union labor.
+
+It was in vain that the president endeavored to convince them that
+Hoover’s discharge was due solely to his reprehensible personal
+conduct. They would not be convinced. He called the manager of the
+mills and the foreman of the shop in which Hoover had worked as his
+witnesses. The committee saw in this only a carefully worked out plan
+to betray the men whom the company feared, and throttle union labor.
+They would have no excuses, no subterfuges, they would listen to no
+argument. Their demand was clear and imperative; it must be answered by
+a categorical yes or no. The president asked for a week within which
+he might sift the evidence, and consider the demand. They replied that
+they had no discretionary power; that if the demand was not complied
+with by noon of the following day every laborer in the company’s employ
+would quit his job and stay out until Hoover was reinstated. This was
+their ultimatum.
+
+Mr. Malleson dismissed the committee with a wave of his hand. He had
+nothing further to say to them. But his jaws were set, and his eyes
+were like steel.
+
+In the afternoon he called the members of his board together and
+presented the situation to them. It was plainly apparent to all of them
+that Hoover’s conduct, leading to his dismissal, was but part of a plan
+to force a strike, with or without cause, at the Malleson mills. What
+ulterior purpose lay back of it all they could not understand. It was
+clear that the men were being led, by designing persons, to their own
+destruction. But for whose benefit? That was the mystery of it. And
+what was to be done? If Hoover were to be reinstated now doubtless a
+similar situation would be created within a week. It might be better
+to meet the issue squarely, and settle the matter once for all. Of
+course a fight would spell disaster; but, if the men were bound to
+strike, they might as well strike now and have done with it. The whole
+thing was so absurd, so unreasonable, so outrageously unjust, that the
+sooner it was disposed of the better.
+
+Barry Malleson, sitting at the directors’ table, had heard the
+discussion thus far without comment. His suggestions at the meetings
+of the board had, theretofore, been given such scant consideration
+that he had grown tired of making them. But he raised his voice now
+in mild protest at what was plainly the belligerent attitude of his
+fellow-members.
+
+“Oh, say,” he inquired, “can’t this thing be fixed up somehow? Why not
+take Bricky back? What harm would it do? I know the fellow personally.
+He’s not at all a bad sort.”
+
+The president of the company turned his head away in ill-concealed
+disgust; but Philip Westgate, sitting at a corner of the table, seemed
+to find Barry’s comment of interest and began to cross-question him.
+
+“Has any one requested you,” he asked, “to intercede for Hoover?”
+
+“Not a soul,” replied Barry. “I’m doing it on my own responsibility.”
+
+“You say you are personally acquainted with the man; do you happen
+to know whether he is on terms of particular friendship with Stephen
+Lamar?”
+
+“Why, yes. I’ve seen them together a good deal. They both belong to the
+Socialist League in which I myself am somewhat interested.”
+
+The president of the Malleson Manufacturing Company turned his head
+still farther away, and a look of deeper disgust spread over his
+usually immobile face.
+
+“And the secretary of that League,” continued Westgate, “is the woman
+known as Mary Bradley?”
+
+“That’s her name, yes.”
+
+“Lamar is in love with her, isn’t he?”
+
+“I don’t know, Phil, but I shouldn’t be a bit surprised if he was. I’m
+in love with her myself.”
+
+Westgate turned to the board.
+
+“Gentlemen,” he said, “I think I can solve the mystery.”
+
+But before he had an opportunity to explain, Richard Malleson swung
+around in his office chair and confronted his son. His face was
+scarlet, and his eyes shot fire.
+
+“How dare you,” he exclaimed, “in a company of gentlemen, boast openly
+of your disgraceful relation with this notorious woman! I’ll not permit
+it!”
+
+Barry’s eyes opened wide with surprise. He was not angry. Nothing ever
+angered him. But he appeared to be deeply grieved.
+
+“Why, father,” he began, “Mrs. Bradley is a genuinely good woman――――”
+
+But his father, in a rage now, interrupted him.
+
+“Not a word!” he cried. “I’ll not listen to you. I’ll not permit you to
+sit on this board. If you don’t leave the room at once, I’ll adjourn
+this meeting.”
+
+The gentlemen who sat at the directors’ table gazed fearfully from
+father to son and held their tongues. It was not their quarrel.
+
+Barry rose slowly from his chair, looking at his father with wide and
+inquiring eyes. He did not seem quite to understand it all, except that
+he had been ordered to leave the room.
+
+“All right, father,” he said; “I’ll go. I’ll go.”
+
+He crossed uncertainly to the door, turned and looked back for a
+moment, in apparent wonder, at the astonished and apprehensive faces
+of the silent group, and then went out. He got his hat and coat and
+put them on, and walked straight to the headquarters of the Socialist
+League in the Potter Building.
+
+After he had left the room Westgate explained to the board his theory
+of the threatened strike. He had heard that Mary Bradley had declared,
+in court, at the termination of her unsuccessful suit, that she would
+have revenge. She was having it, that was all. Shrewd, persistent,
+resourceful, she was using Lamar to turn labor loose on Richard
+Malleson and his company. And what, then, could be done? If Barry only
+had brains, thought Westgate, he might be of some service in this
+crisis. But Barry was as useless now as a baby. The woman herself was
+unapproachable, and Lamar, who, on former occasions, had been found to
+be secretly pliable, would hardly be so base now as to sell out both
+his constituents and his sweetheart. Moreover, it was fairly certain
+that labor, having taken the bit in its teeth, would be uncontrollable.
+And an answer must be forthcoming within twenty-four hours. The board
+decided that there could be but one answer.
+
+When the committee called, on the following day, they received a
+“categorical no” in reply to their demand. And, after twelve o’clock
+of the same day, every wheel and lathe and trip-hammer in the Malleson
+mills was left without its attendant. Only the seven non-union men
+remained at work, and they, perforce, were given a holiday.
+
+So the oft-repeated struggle between capital and labor, with the strike
+as labor’s weapon, began anew. Capital and the friends of capital in
+the entire city felt that labor had been unjust in its demand, and that
+the strike was nothing more nor less than an outrage. Labor and the
+friends of labor, on the other hand, felt that capital, in attempting
+to choke the life out of unionism, and set its heel more firmly on the
+neck of the workingman, had gone too far and must be taught that the
+dignity of labor and the rights of the individual laborer would, at all
+hazards, be maintained.
+
+The Reverend Mr. Farrar was one of those who warmly espoused the cause
+of the striking employees. He saw, in the discharge of Bricky Hoover,
+and in the company’s refusal to reinstate him, only the opening
+shot in a new war on the rights of the city’s workingmen; and he did
+not hesitate to so express himself, nor did he hesitate to offer his
+sympathy, and such assistance as he was able to give, to the strikers.
+
+The businessmen of the city, whose interests were likely to suffer
+severely in the event of a prolonged strike, presented a formal
+request, both to the company and to its employees, to submit the matter
+in dispute between them to arbitration. And both refused. The men on
+the ground that their demand was too unequivocally plain and just to
+be submitted to the uncertain judgment of arbitrators; and the company
+on the ground that it could not, without loss of self-respect, concede
+to any one the right to say whom it should or should not employ at its
+works.
+
+So the strike went on. The plant remained idle. The fires in the
+furnaces were drawn. Only watchmen remained on duty. Some half-finished
+orders, sent to a smaller mill of another company to be completed,
+precipitated a strike at that plant also; and then the workmen of a
+third mill, infected with the spirit of revolt, determined to take
+advantage of the situation to better their own condition, and joined in
+the general upheaval. The original strike had not been called in exact
+accordance with union rules. The men had been too precipitate in their
+action, and some of the union officials felt that they should have
+been sent back to work in order that union discipline might prevail.
+But their cause was so entirely just, the conduct of the company had
+been so flagrant, and its purpose so plain, the sympathy of union labor
+in the city was so overwhelmingly with the men, that their strike was
+endorsed, not only by the union to which they belonged, but by the
+federated unions of the city as well. With this backing the fight went
+on. Silence hung over the Malleson mills. No smoke ascended from the
+chimneys. No roar of forge or rattle of machinery was heard there. No
+sight or sound or soul of industry gave life or movement to the place.
+The very snow upon the paths that crossed the yard, paths trodden daily
+in happier times by human hundreds, lay now untracked and undisturbed.
+Idle men loitered along the streets of the city, or stood aimlessly
+on sunny corners. Merchants were despondent and fearful. The business
+of the town was in a state of alarming depression. The saloons alone
+retained their normal prosperity. By and by came hardship, destitution,
+misery. Not all workmen are sufficiently provident to lay by enough
+to tide them over a rainy day. Many of those who were, found their
+resources drained as the days of the strike grew long. The strike-fund
+voted by the union was but a pittance in comparison with the needs
+which it helped to supply, and even that fund drew toward exhaustion
+with the prolongation of the struggle.
+
+Perhaps those who suffered most were day-laborers not affiliated
+with any union, employed outside the mills and factories, whose
+occupations, indirectly affected by the strike, and by the general
+business depression, were now closed to them. They, indeed, were in
+sore straits. Public aid was asked for, but the response was neither
+quick nor liberal. It is one thing to sympathize with the victims of
+disaster; it is quite another thing to open your purse to them.
+
+It was the first of February when the strike was called. Through all
+that month severe weather prevailed. There were howling blizzards,
+unprecedented snowfalls, arctic temperatures. It is no wonder that by
+the first of March the suffering among the poor had become wide-spread,
+intense and tragic.
+
+And all because the Malleson Manufacturing Company had dismissed, and
+would not take back into its employ, one big, red-haired, raw-boned,
+good-natured workman; and because his fellow-laborers would not work
+without him.
+
+High cause indeed for which to plunge and hold a city in distress.
+The rights of capital! The dignity of labor! Strange shibboleths to be
+bandied about the streets while idle men grew desperate, and women and
+little children were starving and freezing in destitute and miserable
+homes.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XVII
+
+                           A HOPELESS QUEST
+
+
+There was work and a plenty of it for the charitably inclined to do
+during those sad March days. Some noble-souled women, caring not which
+side in the conflict was right or which side wrong, went about like
+ministering angels to relieve the destitute and care for the suffering.
+Ruth Tracy was one of these. Her days were filled with her hard and
+unlovely tasks among the poor, and her nights were often sleepless
+because of the scenes she had witnessed by day.
+
+In her visits to the homes of the destitute she had often met the
+rector of Christ Church. His errands were similar to hers. They
+counseled together, they compared notes, they parceled out relief.
+Together they traveled through snow-burdened, wind-swept, desolate
+streets. More and more he came to rely upon her big-hearted judgment,
+and her sympathetic aid. He shared with her the problem of the poor
+that lay so heavily on his own heart. She became necessary to him,
+invaluable, indispensable. And as for her, his nobility of character,
+his great passion for suffering humanity, his tireless energy in the
+doing of all good deeds, these things loomed ever larger and larger
+in her mind, as she watched him day by day in the performance of his
+self-appointed and self-rewarded tasks.
+
+In these tragic days Barry Malleson also did heroic service. It is true
+that he was not possessed, to any considerable extent, of the power
+of initiative. And it is true also that he had little capacity for
+making organized effort. But, acting under the advice and instruction
+of others, he made his work invaluable. His chair at the office of
+the Malleson Manufacturing Company had been practically deserted for
+weeks. He was not needed there. As a matter of fact he never had been
+needed there. But the cessation of the company’s activities, and the
+president’s attitude of hostility toward him, had made his presence at
+the factory even less necessary, not to say less welcome, than it had
+ever been before. He was entirely free to engage in charitable work,
+and to the best of his ability, and to the extent of his means, he did
+engage in it. And it was none the less to his credit that his labors
+in this behalf were carried on under the direct supervision of the
+rector of Christ Church, and of his zealous co-workers, Ruth Tracy and
+Mary Bradley. Many a desolate home was lightened, for the time being
+at least, by his cheery words, his winning smile, and his material
+gifts as he made his scheduled calls or accompanied the Widow Bradley
+on her pathetic rounds. For she, too, had vacated an office chair to
+give her time to charity. She traveled the streets of poverty-stricken
+sections by day, and many a night she spent at the bedside of the sick,
+or in well-nigh hopeless efforts to comfort those in the deepest of all
+affliction. What little money she had, beyond an amount sufficient to
+supply her own daily needs, was soon exhausted, for she could not bear
+to see suffering while she had a penny to relieve it. But the sympathy
+of her heart, the comfort of her voice, the work of her hands, these
+things were inexhaustible.
+
+She sat, one night, at the bedside of a dying child――a poor,
+half-starved, half-frozen waif of a girl, offspring of improvident
+and penniless parents, innocent victim of the stubbornness of forces
+contending for economic mastery. The tossing of the shrunken little
+body had ceased, and no moaning came now from the pale, pinched lips.
+The child lay, mindless, motionless, with weakly fluttering pulse,
+waiting, unwittingly, for the long release. Out in the one other room
+the mother sat, huddled over the embers of a wood fire in a broken
+stove, her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands, hopeless
+and horror-stricken. At midnight Barry Malleson came in. He had not
+knocked at the door. He had found knocking in these doleful days to be
+a superfluous task. The woman barely noticed him as he entered. She did
+not lift her face from her hands. By the light of the tallow dip in the
+other room he saw Mary Bradley sitting at the bedside of the child. She
+motioned to him to come in.
+
+“Will I disturb her?” he whispered, as he tiptoed to the door.
+
+“No,” she replied; “nothing will ever disturb her again.”
+
+“I heard you were here,” he said, “and I came to walk home with you.
+It’s after midnight.”
+
+“That was very thoughtful of you, Barry. But I shall not go home
+to-night. I can’t leave the woman, and I can’t leave the child. Don’t
+you see I can’t leave her?”
+
+His eyes followed hers toward the bed, and rested for a moment on the
+white, pathetic face, marked with the sign of speedy dissolution, lying
+quietly against the soiled pillow.
+
+“I see,” he said. “What’s to be done?”
+
+“Nothing,” she replied, and repeated, “nothing; nothing.”
+
+“You know,” he continued, “I’d stop this whole fiendish business in
+five minutes if I had any voice in the board; but they won’t listen to
+me, not one of them.”
+
+“I know, Barry. You’re not to blame. You’ve done everything in your
+power. You’re a hero. But, my God, it’s horrible!”
+
+Tears sprang to her eyes, and she wiped them away. Barry’s heart was
+touched. It was the first time in all this dreadful period of her
+ministry that he had seen her weep. He went closer to her, and laid a
+pitying hand on her shoulder.
+
+“You’re all broken up,” he said. “You’ve got to get some rest. You must
+go home in the morning and stay there.”
+
+She did not appear to heed his admonition, but she put her hand up, and
+rested it on his.
+
+“There’s a favor I want to ask of you, Barry. I’ve been thinking about
+it to-day. You know, a long time ago, you brought me a check as a gift
+from your company, and I refused it. You brought it again and I still
+refused it. You urged me many times to take it. Is that check still in
+existence?”
+
+“Yes, I have it. It was charged up to our charity account when it was
+issued, and it still stands that way.”
+
+“Well, Barry, my pride is all gone now. If you should offer it to me
+again I’d――I’d take it.”
+
+“You shall have it. It’s yours. I’ll bring it to you the first thing in
+the morning.”
+
+“Thank you! I can do so much with the money now. Oh, so much! It will
+be a godsend to Factory Hill.”
+
+The shawl-clad woman in the kitchen rose, gathered a few sticks of wood
+from a corner of the room, thrust them into the stove, and again seated
+herself, crouching, silent, over the inadequate fire.
+
+“And there’s another thing, Barry, but I can’t tell you that to-night.
+I’ve got to have a stronger heart when I tell you that, because you’ve
+been so unselfish, and brave, and splendid in every way, and I dread to
+hurt you.”
+
+He looked down at her questioningly.
+
+“What is it, Mary?”
+
+“Not to-night. I said, not to-night.”
+
+“Very well. Then if I can’t do anything more for you I’ll be going. You
+have food enough to last till morning?”
+
+“Yes; I brought some with me when I came.”
+
+“And wood for the stove?”
+
+“Yes, there’s nothing you can do.”
+
+“All right. I’ll be back early in the morning.”
+
+He glanced again at the all but pulseless figure on the bed, and turned
+toward the door.
+
+“Barry!”
+
+“Yes?”
+
+She had risen and stood facing him.
+
+“Barry, God bless you! Now go.”
+
+He went softly out through the bare room in which the grief-crazed
+mother still sat crouched and moaning, and passed thence into the
+night. But Mary Bradley sank back into her chair and let her tears flow
+unchecked. In happier days she would have scorned to ask God’s blessing
+on any one. But now only God was great enough to be good to this
+witless and tender-hearted hero.
+
+An hour later the pulse that had fluttered so long at the thin little
+wrist grew still. Mary Bradley performed such trifling offices as the
+dead require, drew the crumpled and untidy sheet up over the pitiful
+young face, and, through the remaining hours of the night, held
+hopeless vigil with a mother who would not be consoled.
+
+At daybreak she went out into the face of the bleak March wind to hunt
+for Stephen Lamar.
+
+She found him alone, in the early morning, at strike-headquarters,
+shivering over a half-heated stove.
+
+“Steve,” she said, “call it off. For God’s sake, call it off!”
+
+“Call what off, Mary?”
+
+“The strike. Call it off. I can’t stand this any longer. I can’t spend
+another night like the one I’ve just been through. It’s too terrible.”
+
+“But it was for your sake I brought it on.”
+
+“Then for my sake call it off. If the sin is mine I want my soul
+cleared of it to-day.”
+
+He did not answer her for a moment. He looked out wearily through the
+unclean window into the cheerless street. Then he said:
+
+“I may as well tell you the truth, Mary. I can’t stop it. It’s gone too
+far. I’ve been up all night with the committee. There isn’t a thing we
+can do.”
+
+“You can send the men back to work.”
+
+“We can’t. Malleson won’t take ’em. He won’t have a union man in his
+plant. He says so, and he means it. Next week he opens up the mills to
+non-union labor. Then there’ll be trouble. My God, there’ll be trouble!”
+
+His face was white and haggard, and his under lip trembled as he spoke.
+She looked at him incredulously.
+
+“You don’t mean to say,” she asked, “that he won’t let his old men go
+back to work? Not if you kept Bricky Hoover out?”
+
+“Not if we sent Bricky Hoover straight to hell to-day. Not a single
+striker gets work at Malleson’s mills again.”
+
+She dropped into the chair he had placed for her when she came in, and
+gripped the arms of it.
+
+“But that”――she protested――“that isn’t human.”
+
+“I know it isn’t human. But what can we do? When Dick Malleson makes up
+his mind no power in the universe can move him.”
+
+“Why, Steve, women are starving and freezing. Little children are
+dying. The man has no heart, no soul.”
+
+“True! And if he tries to break the strike with scabs he’ll have no
+mill.”
+
+“Steve! There won’t be violence; there won’t be bloodshed?”
+
+“I can’t tell what there’ll be. The men are desperate, and they’ll do
+desperate things.”
+
+“But I won’t have bloodshed! I’ve got enough to answer for as it is. I
+tell you, Steve, you’ve got to stop it.”
+
+“And I tell you I can’t stop it.”
+
+“Then I’ll find some one who can. Mr. Farrar will help me.”
+
+At the mention of the clergyman’s name the man’s face flushed. For
+Mary Bradley to go from Lamar to seek the rector’s aid was simply to
+pour oil on a smoldering fire. She had been already too much in this
+minister’s company under pretense of visiting the poor. Why should
+she hold him, Stephen Lamar, her avowed lover, at arm’s length, while
+bestowing clandestine favors on this discredited hypocrite of the
+Church? No fire burns so fiercely as the fire of jealousy.
+
+“Oh, Farrar!” he sneered. “What will he do? Go pray with old man
+Malleson who doesn’t give a damn for his pious advice? I tell you this
+fellow has lost his grip. Capital derides him; labor laughs at him; you
+might as well――――”
+
+“Stop! You can’t slander him in my presence. He’s been the one strong,
+heroic figure in all this dreadful disaster, and the whole city knows
+it.”
+
+The man’s jealous wrath blazed up in words befitting the loafer of the
+street.
+
+“Oh, you; you think he’s a little tin god on wheels! You think he’s
+the greatest thing that ever came down the pike! I say he’s a damned
+hypocrite and a menace to society, and I’ll prove it.”
+
+She rose from her chair with face aflame and anger flashing from her
+eyes.
+
+“Steve,” she said, “take that back. You coward, take that back!”
+
+He saw that he had overreached himself and grew suddenly penitent.
+
+“Forgive me, Mary! I don’t know what I’m saying. I’m driven crazy by
+this infernal strike――and by you.”
+
+“By me?”
+
+“Yes, by you. You have no pity. I’m eating my heart out for you, and
+you’re as cold as an arctic moon.”
+
+“Do you want me to be kind to you?”
+
+“It’s the only want I have.”
+
+“Then stop this strike. Stop it and ask anything decent of me and it’s
+yours. But until you do stop it, don’t speak to me, nor look at me, nor
+so much as whisper my name.”
+
+She turned and swept out from his presence, and when she was gone he
+dropped back into his chair, stared at the blank walls around him, and
+cursed the evil days on which he had so ingloriously fallen.
+
+But he resolved to win back the favor of the woman for whose sake he
+would joyously have walked straight to perdition.
+
+Through the bleak March morning, past piles of grimy, half-melted snow,
+Mary Bradley went. Two blocks up, at the corner of the street which led
+from the mill, she met Barry Malleson. He had gone early, as he had
+said he would, to procure her check. He drew it from his pocket now and
+gave it to her.
+
+“It only needs your endorsement,” he said, “and you can get the money
+at any bank.”
+
+“Thank you, Barry! Now I want you to go with me.”
+
+“Where?” And before she could reply he added: “It doesn’t matter where.
+I’ll go, and be glad to.”
+
+But she told him where she wished him to go.
+
+“I’m going to see Mr. Farrar,” she said. “Perhaps he can do something
+to put an end to this unbearable tragedy.”
+
+They found him in his study. The darkness of the morning had made
+necessary the lighting of his table-lamp, and vague shadows filled
+the room and moved unsteadily up and down his gray face as he bent
+to his work or sat back in his chair to ponder. And he had work to
+do as well as cause to ponder. The suffering he had witnessed during
+these last days lay heavy on his heart. His eyes were dim with it; the
+lines on his face were deep with it. His sympathies were stirred as
+they had never in his life been stirred before. His wife entered the
+room softly but he neither saw nor heard her. She paused and looked
+at him for a moment and then went out without speaking to him. She
+was not vexed nor sullen, but she was inexpressibly troubled and sad,
+and she pitied him. In his work among the poor he had not consulted
+her, nor had he asked her aid. She forgave him for that, much as it
+grieved her. For, of course, he knew that she had her own burdens to
+bear, her children to care for, her house to be kept under ever more
+and more straitened circumstances and embarrassing conditions. So why
+should he burden her with his cares or sorrows, or harass her mind by
+recitals of the sufferings of others? Yet she had abundant reason to be
+despondent and distressed, and worn out in both body and soul. Society
+which had ceased to recognize him had, of necessity, gradually, but
+unobtrusively, closed its doors to her. Her whole life, in these bitter
+days, was compassed by the four walls of the rectory. If she could only
+have been his companion and helpmate how gladly she would have borne
+it all. But she knew her limitations, her childish incapacity, her
+deplorable lack of every resource on which he might have drawn to aid
+him in solving his problems or in performing the tasks that confronted
+him. How natural it was that, in default of this aid from her, he
+should accept, or even seek it from another. And with this thought the
+poignancy of her suffering reached its climax. For she saw, or believed
+she saw, the place that should have been hers as her husband’s friend
+and counselor and loyal and helpful companion successfully filled by
+another. What cause, other than this, could bring more bitter sorrow
+into the heart of a loving wife? She was not angry nor resentful, but
+she was inexpressibly grieved and hurt.
+
+When Barry and his companion entered the study the minister rose
+and welcomed them with sad cordiality. He saw that the woman was
+excited and distressed, and he knew that there must be some disastrous
+development in the already unbearable situation.
+
+“What is it now?” he asked her. “Has any new limit of suffering been
+reached?”
+
+“Yes,” she replied, “my limit has been reached. I can’t bear it any
+longer. I came to ask you to make one more effort to put an end to this
+horrible strife.”
+
+“Yes,” echoed Barry; “she’s gone the limit. I know. It’s up to you and
+me, Farrar, to buckle in and make a whirlwind effort to end this thing
+now. We’re the only two men on earth that can do it.”
+
+“Barry,” said the rector, “it’s no use. You’ve done all that a human
+being could do. And I, Mrs. Bradley, I have exhausted every effort. The
+men are stubborn, the mill-owners are obdurate; the thing is absolutely
+dead-locked.”
+
+“The mill-owners are indeed obdurate,” she replied, “but the men are
+no longer stubborn. They’ve been starved and frozen into submission.
+They’ll go back on any terms.”
+
+“Without Bricky Hoover?”
+
+“Yes, without Bricky Hoover.”
+
+“Then why under the canopy don’t they go?” asked Barry. “We’ll take ’em
+in a minute, if they’ve dropped Bricky.”
+
+“They don’t go,” she replied, “because the company won’t let them.”
+
+“Won’t let them!” exclaimed Barry and the rector in unison.
+
+“Won’t let them,” she repeated. “Mr. Malleson says they’ve repented too
+late. He’s hired strike-breakers, scabs, thugs, to take their places.”
+
+“Who told you this?” demanded the rector.
+
+“Steve Lamar. He says there’ll be riots and bloodshed. And, if there
+is, the guilt of it will be on my head. You must stop it, Mr. Farrar.
+You must! You must!”
+
+She dropped into a near-by chair, hid her face in her hands and fell to
+sobbing. It was the first time that either of these men had seen her
+thus broken in pride and strength, and for a moment they gazed at her
+and at each other in silence. Then the rector went to her, and laid a
+quieting hand on her shoulder.
+
+“You mustn’t give way like this,” he said. “We need you. We need your
+courage, more now than ever before. I can’t understand this. You must
+have been misinformed. Lamar must be mistaken. If the men are willing
+to go back on Mr. Malleson’s terms he certainly can’t refuse them; he
+dare not; he must not!”
+
+He was growing as excited and indignant over the situation as was Mary
+Bradley herself.
+
+“Tell him so, Mr. Farrar!” exclaimed the woman. “Please go to him and
+tell him so. He won’t listen to the men. He won’t listen to Barry. He
+won’t listen to anybody. But maybe――there’s just a chance――that if you
+go to him again, and tell him this, he may see the wisdom of it, the
+justice of it, the absolute necessity of it.”
+
+“I’ll go,” said the rector.
+
+“And I’ll go with you,” exclaimed Barry, “to clinch the argument. He
+hasn’t listened to me before. Maybe he will now.”
+
+She rose from her chair and looked at the two men from tear-filled eyes.
+
+“You are both very brave,” she said, “and noble. And I know you’ll
+succeed. I know it. It can’t be otherwise. If you fail it will kill me,
+and I’ll have to go up to God with this sin on my soul.”
+
+Again the rector sought to soothe and encourage her. He did not know
+what she meant by her self-accusations, but he knew that this was no
+time to inquire. Moreover, he was eager to be off on his errand. He
+took her hand and, holding it in his, walked with her down the hall
+to his street door, trying to speak comforting words. How comforting
+he did not know. What calmness came to her with his touch he did not
+dream. How precious in her heart she held the memory of that little
+journey to the outer air, he could not by any possible chance conceive.
+
+At the street corner she left them. She did not look again at the
+rector. But she turned pleading eyes on Barry.
+
+“You’ll come and tell me,” she implored, “what happens?”
+
+“I’ll come,” said Barry, “if I get away alive.”
+
+He smiled at her, lifted his hat, and then joined the rector who was
+already hurrying on his way. The morning was not cold, but it was raw
+and misty, and the air had in it an indescribable chill. The two men
+walked rapidly and in silence. Shivering workmen, with despondent
+faces, looked at them as they passed, and some lifted their caps
+awkwardly from tousled heads in recognition. It was no unusual sight to
+see the rector and Barry on the street together in these days, and no
+one commented on their appearance now. The men had no grievance against
+Barry. He had doubtless done what he could for them, but they knew him
+to be absolutely helpless, and they saw no possible gleam of hope in
+his direction. As for the rector, he was of course a friend to labor.
+He had proved that to them abundantly. But they no longer looked to
+him to lead them up out of slavery. As Steve Lamar said, he had lost
+his grip, if he had ever had one. Every effort of his on their behalf
+had been utterly useless, if indeed he had not, by these very efforts,
+plunged them into still deeper servitude. He had preached the religion
+of Christ to those in high places and it had availed nothing. He had
+preached it to men ground down by capital and suffering from hunger,
+and it had not served to right a single wrong, or relieve a single
+pang of distress. What they wanted was a religion that would not only
+affirm their rights, but would in fact obtain them. What they wanted
+was a man who could not only preach justice, but could get it; a man
+with material as well as spiritual power, a man who could force capital
+to its knees, and bring victory to the cause of labor. And the rector
+of Christ Church was not such a man. Wherefore they looked on with
+indifference as these two passed by.
+
+Though it was still early morning Richard Malleson was in. He had been
+coming early to his office, and staying late. That his work and his
+anxiety were wearing on him there could be no doubt. His appearance
+indicated it. Within the last two months he had aged perceptibly. His
+hair had grown noticeably gray. Sharp lines had been etched into his
+face. His clothes no longer fitted his body snugly, and above his
+collar the skin of his neck hung in flabby, vertical folds. But his
+cold, gray eyes had lost none of their sharpness, and his square,
+aggressive jaws were even more firmly set than of old. He sent out word
+that he would see Mr. Farrar, but that Barry was not to be admitted. So
+the rector entered the office alone. The president of the company rose
+and shook hands formally with his visitor, and motioned him to a chair.
+Then he sat back and fingered his eye-glasses expectantly. The rector
+went at once to the point, as was his custom.
+
+“My errand this morning,” he said, “is to tell you that I believe a way
+has been opened for the immediate resumption of work at your mills.”
+
+“Yes?” There was no manifestation of surprise or of interest in either
+his voice or his manner.
+
+“Yes. I understand that your men are willing to return on the old
+terms, without Bricky Hoover.”
+
+“I believe that is true. I was so informed by a committee yesterday.”
+
+“Then what stands in the way of a settlement?”
+
+“Everything. We shall not take these men back.”
+
+“Why not?”
+
+“I will tell you. We had an agreement with them which, by their strike,
+they have flagrantly and causelessly violated. We have now, on our
+part, abrogated that agreement. They are irresponsible, reckless and
+destructive. We shall not reëmploy them.”
+
+“You don’t mean to say that these men who have given the better part of
+their lives to your service are to be locked out? blacklisted?”
+
+“Call it what you choose, Mr. Farrar. We are through with them. When we
+reopen our shops, as we shall reopen them next week, it will be to men
+who have not worked us injury, and in whose word and good faith we hope
+we can trust.”
+
+“But, Mr. Malleson, do you realize that if you bring in new men to take
+the places of the old ones there is sure to be trouble?”
+
+“We look to the police and the law to protect our property and our
+employees, and if the police and the law are not sufficient we shall
+have armed deputies of our own to defend us against violence.”
+
+“Pardon me, but you will only be inviting disorder. The patience of
+these striking workmen is strained already to the breaking point. You
+cannot assume that they will stand idly by and see strangers take the
+places to which they believe themselves entitled. Bloodshed, in such a
+case, is no remote possibility.”
+
+“We assume nothing, sir, except that we have a right, under the
+law, to operate our works with such men as we see fit to employ. If
+unwarranted or violent interference with our property or our employees
+is resorted to, and bloodshed ensues, we shall hold ourselves in no way
+responsible.”
+
+The cold logic of his reply left room for no further argument. The
+appeal to reason having been dismissed, an appeal to sentiment was now
+the minister’s only recourse.
+
+“Mr. Malleson,” he said, “there is one thing more which I beg you to
+consider. These workmen of yours are beaten. You have forced them into
+the last ditch. Their wives are starving and their babies are dying.
+They are ready to yield every point. Unless you give them work the
+weak and the helpless among them will perish like beasts. You are a
+Christian man. I appeal to you in the name of the merciful Christ to
+have mercy on them.”
+
+The president of the company looked at his visitor for a full minute
+before replying. Then he said:
+
+“You also are a Christian man, Mr. Farrar. And you are a minister of
+the gospel besides. And, as a minister, you have preached discord and
+discontent. You have stirred up envy and hatred in the breasts of these
+working people. You have roused the spirit and the passions which
+have led to this destitution and misery. You have sown the wind; your
+victims are reaping the whirlwind. It comes with poor grace from you to
+appeal to my sense of Christian mercy.”
+
+The rector did not resent the accusation, and he made little attempt to
+justify himself. He simply said:
+
+“I have preached the gospel of Jesus Christ as I have understood it.
+But let us assume that I have been wrong. Let us even assume that my
+preaching may have been in part responsible for this disaster. The
+emergency is too great for any of us to pause long enough to lay the
+blame at another’s door. We are confronted by suffering unspeakable.
+With one word you can relieve it. With one turn of the hand you can
+lift a whole community from the slough of wretchedness and despair to
+the very heights of happiness, and that without yielding one iota of
+your lawful right or personal dignity. Again I ask you, as a Christian
+man, to exert your power on the side of mercy.”
+
+“And again I tell you that, being a Christian man, I shall not throw
+this sop to the forces of evil. I can do no greater service to this
+community than to exert my power to crush this spirit of revolt which
+you and those like you have fostered here. I intend to stamp out, so
+far as I can, those pernicious doctrines of socialism, of radicalism,
+of syndicalism by the preaching of which you and your companions
+and followers have brought to the people of this city hardship and
+suffering which you now find yourselves powerless to relieve.”
+
+“We are powerless to relieve it, Mr. Malleson. That is frankly why I
+come to you. And I come as man to man, with a man’s message on my lips.”
+
+“As man to man!” The phrase seemed to have caught the president’s
+attention. His face flushed as if in anger. “As man to man,” he
+repeated. “What have I in common with you who find your companions
+among atheists and radicals? Why should I take counsel with you who
+have taken delight in warping the weak mind of a member of my family
+into complete acceptance of your destructive doctrines? You have made
+him easy prey of designing women, and a tool of sinister men. You have
+alienated him from his family and his friends. I say why should I
+listen for one moment to you?”
+
+He half rose in his chair, struck his clenched fist on the table, and
+glared at his visitor in unmistakable anger.
+
+“Mr. Malleson,” replied the rector; he was still calm and deliberate,
+“you do me an injustice. I have done no harm to your son. But that is
+neither here nor there. I came to appeal to you, not for myself nor for
+your son, but in behalf of your starving workmen. Will you take them
+back?”
+
+“I will not take them back. They left me without cause. They have
+assassinated my character. They have tried to wreck my business.”
+
+“They may both wreck your business and destroy your property in the
+end.”
+
+“Is that a threat, Mr. Farrar?”
+
+“I make no threats; God forbid! But, since you will not listen to
+reason, nor be moved by pity, I must tell you frankly that in my
+judgment you have brought this calamity on yourself; and if you persist
+in the course you are pursuing, a still worse calamity is sure to
+follow.”
+
+The president of the manufacturing company rose to his feet, white with
+rage.
+
+“Sir,” he exclaimed, “the interview is at an end!”
+
+“As you choose,” replied the minister. “But beware of the next
+messenger who comes. For, instead of bringing to you the olive branch
+which I have brought, he may bring to you the rioter’s club, and the
+incendiary’s torch.”
+
+It was doubtless a rash thing for him to say. But when his heart was
+hot the rector of Christ Church did not pause to consider well the
+words he should utter.
+
+He left the office of the president and strode back to his home
+under lowering skies, through wet and dingy streets, moved by such
+indignation and despair as had never in his life before found lodgment
+in his breast. Yet he caught himself, ever and anon, wondering whether
+the charge that Richard Malleson had so bluntly and brutally thrust at
+him was in any respect true; the charge that he himself, by preaching
+a gospel of discontent, had helped to bring on this industrial war. He
+tried to evade the question, to dismiss it from his mind, but it would
+not down. Was he or was he not, in any degree, responsible for this
+economic tragedy? Mary Bradley had declared that the guilt of it lay on
+her soul. This was doubtless untrue. But how much of the guilt of it
+lay on his? Here, indeed, was food for thought.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+When Bricky Hoover came into strike-headquarters that morning Lamar
+was still there, and he was alone. Hoover, too, had the appearance of
+a man who had been suffering from both a physical and a mental strain.
+His clothing was wrinkled and soiled, his face was swollen, his eyes
+were bloodshot, and when he threw his cap on the table he disclosed a
+tangled shock of red hair that for twenty-four hours at least had not
+felt the civilizing effect of a comb.
+
+Lamar looked up at him and scowled.
+
+“Bricky,” he said, “you were drunk last night. You were no good. Don’t
+you know that you can’t afford to swill booze while this strike is on?”
+
+“I know it, Steve,” he replied. “I admit I was drunk. But the thing
+got on my nerves and I had to stiddy myself somehow. I took a drop too
+much, that’s all. What’s the next move?”
+
+“The next move is to call off the strike.”
+
+“Call it off? What for?”
+
+“Because we’re licked. And the only chance for the men to get anything
+is to go ask for it, one by one.”
+
+“I say we ain’t licked. And they won’t a man git ’is job back by goin’
+and askin’ for it. I know. Wasn’t I on the comity that went to see the
+old man yisterday? I crawled on me belly to ’im; told ’im I’d quit
+the city, leave the state, go drown meself, do anything, if he’d take
+the bunch back on the old terms. He snarled at me an’ wouldn’t listen
+to it. I told ’im I’d do the same thing if he’d take the men back,
+one by one, as he wanted ’em. He come down on me like a thousand o’
+brick. Said he’d ruther see his mills burn down than take back a single
+traitor of us. Banged ’is fist on the table an’ called me a Judas
+Ischariot. I told you all that last night. Steve, no man can’t call me
+a Judas Ischariot an’ save ’is skin. This strike is goin’ on.”
+
+“But I tell you it can’t go on. The old man’s got us by the throat and
+he’s choking us to death.”
+
+“Hell! That’s baby-talk! We’ve got him up ag’inst the wall, and he
+can’t do a thing.”
+
+“But he’s going to open up with scabs and strike-breakers.”
+
+“Let him! They won’t last three days. We can hold out for ten. At the
+end of that time the strike’ll be won.”
+
+“Bricky, you’re a fool. The men can’t hold out for ten days. They’re
+starving. It’s March. They’ll break away from us one by one. They’ll
+tumble over each other looking for their jobs. You won’t smash Dick
+Malleson, but you’ll smash the union.”
+
+“I say we’ll smash Dick Malleson, and I know what I’m talkin’ about. I
+know the men. I know what they’ll stan’ for, and I know what they won’t
+stan’ for. Ten days turns the trick.”
+
+“Bricky, I said you were a fool. I say, now, you’re a damned fool! The
+thing can’t be done. It’s impossible!”
+
+Bricky did not grow angry at the denunciation. He smiled strangely and
+raised his voice but slightly as he replied:
+
+“Look here, Steve. You made a fool of me once. That was when you got
+me into this thing. And old man Malleson made a fool of me once. That
+was yiste’day, when I went beggin’ to him as you told me to. They can’t
+neither of ye make a fool o’ me twice. I’m through with both o’ ye. I’m
+goin’ to smash Malleson now on me own account, for the things he said
+to me yiste’day. And as for you, Steve, you can go plumb to hell.”
+
+Lamar started up from his chair.
+
+“Bricky,” he shouted, “you’re crazy!”
+
+Bricky never moved nor changed the tone of his voice.
+
+“Maybe I am,” he replied. “But I ain’t crazy enough to start five
+hunderd men on the road to perdition jest because a black-eyed,
+smooth-tongued woman puts me up to it. And I ain’t crazy enough nor
+yellow-hearted enough to sell them men out jest because the same
+shaller-minded woman gits cold feet an’ purrs it into me ears to do it,
+an’ pays me my price fer it. Oh, I know the game! You can’t put nothin’
+over on me!”
+
+“Bricky, you damned, black-hearted scoundrel, get out o’ here!”
+
+And Bricky got out.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XVIII
+
+                           A CRUEL SURPRISE
+
+
+On the afternoon of the day following his fruitless interview with
+the president of the Malleson Manufacturing Company, the rector of
+Christ Church sat alone in his study, immersed in thought. Not pleasant
+thought; far from it. The times were too sadly out of joint for that,
+the outlook was too darkly threatening. His own path was filled, not
+only with obstacles ahead, but with failures and wrecks behind. His
+dream of fusing the classes together in Christian fellowship in Christ
+Church had not been fulfilled. His months of effort in that behalf had
+not only been wasted, but had resulted in widening the breach between
+the very classes he would have brought together. He had succeeded only
+in crippling and disorganizing his church, and in splitting the body
+of it in twain. He had offended, antagonized, and driven from his
+communion, many of the chief supporters of the church, and not a few of
+its most devout and zealous members. Alas! their places had not been
+filled by people of any class. He had made no substantial inroad into
+the ranks of the toilers. Few of those who had at first flocked to his
+standard remained to help him fight his battles. Fewer still accepted
+the creed of his Church, or declared their intention of uniting with
+it. The throngs that, during the first months of his crusade, had
+come to hear him preach the new gospel of Christian fellowship, had
+fallen sadly away. There was now room, and plenty of it, in all the
+pews, at all the services. The treasury of the church was empty, its
+obligations were unpaid, many of its institutions were either dormant
+or wholly abandoned. He, himself, refusing to accept the bounty of
+his treasurer, or the charitable offerings of those few among the
+wealthier of his parishioners who still stood listlessly by him, was
+facing an ever-increasing burden of personal debt. What was wrong? Had
+God forsaken him? Had the Son of God repudiated the doctrine laid down
+in His Holy Scriptures? Had that doctrine been divinely carved into
+his believing heart in simple mockery? They were indeed disturbing,
+insidious, sinister thoughts with which he struggled that day.
+
+In the midst of his contemplation Barry Malleson entered. It was
+evident, even before he spoke, that something had gone wrong with him.
+He had lost his air of easy self-assurance. He had a troubled look;
+his eyes were widely open as if in sorrow, at the cause of which he
+was still wondering. His face was unshaven, his hair was rumpled, his
+clothes hung loosely on him, and his soft shirt and flowing tie, the
+like of which he had affected since his conversion to socialism, were
+soiled and awry.
+
+“Well, Farrar,” he said, “it’s all up with me. I came over to tell you.”
+
+“What’s up, Barry?” The rector had already jumped to the conclusion
+that there had been serious trouble with Mary Bradley. But in that he
+was wrong.
+
+“I’ve had a break,” replied Barry, “with the president of the company.
+I have resigned my position as vice-president.”
+
+The situation became at once plain to the minister.
+
+“Was your resignation demanded?” he asked.
+
+“You may say so, yes. I have also been ordered to keep away from the
+office and the plant.”
+
+“For what reason?”
+
+“The president doesn’t wish to have any socialist on the premises.”
+
+“That’s absurd! He has a very narrow mind.”
+
+“He has a very determined mind when he’s once made it up, and he’s
+made it up all right so far as I am concerned. I have decided also,
+Farrar, to withdraw from his house and family.”
+
+“Why should you do that?”
+
+“He says I may stay there as a matter of grace on his part. But, you
+know, that’s contrary to our creed. We socialists don’t believe in
+charity. What we want is simple justice.”
+
+It sounded gruesome and uncanny, coming from Barry’s lips, this
+repetition of a doctrine that the rector himself had spread broadcast.
+Was this another victim of an unsound creed? The question forced itself
+in upon the minister’s mind with appalling insistence. “But, Barry,” he
+exclaimed, “this is tragic! It is unnecessarily tragic! Does he give
+you no alternative?”
+
+“Oh, yes. He’ll take it all back on certain conditions. You see he’s
+practically disowned and disinherited me now. If I’ll do what he wants
+me to he’ll restore me to his favor.”
+
+“What does he want you to do?”
+
+“Well, in the first place he wants me to cut out socialism. I can’t cut
+out socialism, Farrar. I believe in it. It’s the road to comfort and
+peace and happiness for the human race.”
+
+How trite and hollow the pet phrase sounded in the face of a calamity
+like this! From whom had he learned it, that he should repeat it,
+parrot-like, to the confusion of his host? The rector turned sad eyes
+on his visitor.
+
+“Is that all you are to do, Barry?”
+
+“Oh, no! I’ve got to repudiate you, and everything you stand for. Can
+you imagine me doing that, Farrar? Why, I’ve looked up to you as the
+biggest and bravest and brainiest man in this city. I’d follow you
+straight to the bottomless pit, if you said the word.”
+
+“Barry! Oh, Barry! Am I leading you to destruction?”
+
+“The president says so. That’s where he and I can’t agree. He says I’m
+just simply your dupe. He says I have no mind of my own. He says I’ve
+turned over to you for safe-keeping what little brains I ever had. Now,
+Farrar, that was going a step too far, and I told him so. I’m no fool.
+You know that. I’ve got as much good sense and sound judgment as the
+next man. And I won’t permit any one, not even my own father, to call
+me a fool. Would you?”
+
+The rector did not answer him. How could he? The situation was too
+pathetic, too tragic, to permit of either a confirmation or denial of
+the correctness of the young man’s attitude.
+
+But Barry did not wait for a reply. He hurried on:
+
+“And that isn’t all, Farrar. He says I’ve got to throw the widow
+overboard.”
+
+“Mrs. Bradley?”
+
+“Yes, Mrs. Bradley. He says I’ve got to break with her, lock, stock and
+barrel. Now, you know, Farrar, I can’t do that. I never could do that.
+It’s impossible! Why, I’d as soon think of breaking with God!”
+
+He did not mean to be irreverent. He was simply in dead earnest, and he
+looked it. But he was also in deep distress, and his distress wrung the
+heart of the sympathetic and self-accusing rector of Christ Church.
+
+“Barry,” he said, “if I am responsible in any way for the misfortunes
+that have overtaken you――and God knows I may be――I ask your forgiveness
+from the bottom of my heart.”
+
+Barry smiled at that. “Oh, now look here, Farrar,” he replied. “I
+didn’t come here to put any blame on you. You’ve been my friend and
+counselor, not my enemy――never my enemy.”
+
+“Thank you, Barry. Thank you a thousand times! Now tell me what I can
+do to help you. I would be the basest ingrate on earth if I did not
+stand by you to the limit of my power.”
+
+“Nothing, Farrar, nothing. I don’t want help――just companionship.”
+
+Quick tears sprang to the rector’s eyes, and he went over and laid an
+affectionate arm about the young man’s shoulders.
+
+“You shall have it,” he said. “You shall have my heart’s best.”
+
+The echo of the front-door bell came to Barry’s ears from somewhere
+in the house, and he started up in alarm, and cast an apprehensive
+glance down the hall through the half-opened door. In the distance he
+caught sight of a woman’s skirts, and heard, indistinctly, her voice in
+inquiry.
+
+“It’s Jane,” he whispered. “She’s followed me here. She’s got me
+cornered. Farrar, if you really want to do something for me, you’ve got
+a chance to do it now.”
+
+“What shall I do, Barry?”
+
+“Switch her off the track. I can’t meet her to-day. Positively I can’t.
+I――I’m in no condition.”
+
+“You don’t need to meet her.”
+
+“But she’ll insist on it. She knows I’m here. Can’t――can’t you let me
+out the back way?”
+
+He stood there, a picture of abject fright, and cringing irresolution.
+He had not been afraid to talk face to face with Richard Malleson,
+but in the prospect of meeting Jane Chichester he became the veriest
+coward. The rector led him through the dining-room to the side-door of
+the rectory, and thence he made his escape to the street.
+
+But it was not, after all, Jane Chichester who had called. When Mr.
+Farrar returned to the library he found Ruth Tracy there awaiting him.
+
+“Barry was here,” he said, “and you gave him a great fright.”
+
+“Indeed! How was that?”
+
+“He thought it was Jane Chichester who came in.”
+
+“Why should he be frightened at Jane?”
+
+“Oh, I’m not sure but that he has good reason to be. At any rate I
+helped him to make his escape by the back door. He would have been
+quite willing that I should ‘let him down by the wall in a basket,’
+after the manner of Saul’s escape from his enemies at Damascus. Barry
+is somewhat nervous to-day, anyway. He came to tell me that his father
+has disowned him.”
+
+“Because of his conversion to socialism?”
+
+“Yes, and because of his adherence to me and to my cause, and because
+of his friendly relations with Mrs. Bradley.”
+
+“I’m sorry. How does he take it?”
+
+“Like a hero. But, Miss Tracy, I can’t get it out of my mind that in
+some way I am responsible for his misfortunes. Perhaps I should not
+have encouraged him, perhaps I should not have permitted him, to cast
+in his lot with us.”
+
+“You have no cause for self-accusation on that account, Mr. Farrar. You
+have set up a standard under which all men, whether wise or foolish,
+should not hesitate to gather. You cannot discriminate. To do so would
+be destructive to your cause.”
+
+“In these distressing times I have even had doubts concerning the
+righteousness of my cause.”
+
+She looked up at him in alarm. Had the fight been too strenuous
+for him, the strain too severe? Was he, after all, about to yield?
+to become just common clay? She, herself, had come to the rectory,
+despondent and despairing, to obtain new courage and strength from him.
+The burden of the suffering that she had witnessed during these last
+terrible weeks was crushing the leaven of optimism out of her heart.
+Were they both now to go weakly down together to defeat and disaster?
+A wave of stubborn aggressiveness swept into her soul. She would not
+permit it. She would not listen to so sinister a suggestion. She would
+rise in her own strength and save both him and herself.
+
+“You have no right,” she declared, “to say that. Why do you harbor such
+a doubt?”
+
+“Because it seems to me that if God were with me my church would not
+be falling into decay. Even the people in whose behalf we have fought
+are leaving us.”
+
+“That is because, in these times, they are too ill-clothed, too hungry,
+too wretched to come to church. They do not realize that for these very
+reasons they stand in greater need of the consolation of religion.”
+
+“True. But you can’t thrust religion down the throat of a man who is
+perishing from hunger. And the thought that distresses me is that I
+may have been in some way or to some extent responsible for all this
+suffering. If I had not preached to the laboring men, as I have, the
+gospel of discontent with things as they are, it may be that these
+dreadful days would not have come.”
+
+He rose from his chair and began pacing up and down the room. She saw
+that he was in distress, and that if she would help him she must refute
+his argument.
+
+“You have simply preached God’s truth to them,” she declared. “If
+they have profited by it to seek to better their condition, that
+fact redounds to your credit. It is those who oppress them who are
+responsible for this frightful situation; it is not you, nor your
+teachings, nor because the men have followed you.”
+
+He was still walking rapidly up and down the room.
+
+“But, Miss Tracy,” he asked, “if I am right why are not the men of my
+parish with me? If they were with me to-day, if we were acting as one,
+Christ Church would be a power in the alleviation of distress. As it is
+we are almost helpless.”
+
+At that her anger rose. She had not been able to forgive the men who
+were permitting Christ Church and its charities to go to wreck in a
+time like this, because of their resentment toward the rector.
+
+“They are not with you because their hearts are evil,” she declared.
+“Because they have no conception of the real meaning of Christ’s
+religion. They are not Christians. They are scribes and Pharisees,
+hypocrites! I detest them!”
+
+He stopped in his walk and looked down on her. Her cheeks were blazing.
+Her eyes were flashing with indignation. It was plain that her patience
+with the men who had hampered and hindered the rector of Christ Church
+in his work of saving the bodies and souls of the poor was exhausted.
+
+“Thank you!” he said. “That was not pious, but it was most comforting.”
+
+He went and sat down opposite to her at the library table on which her
+hands were lying as she faced him.
+
+“And you have been my comfort,” he added, “through all these dreadful
+weeks.”
+
+“I am glad,” she replied, “that I could be of service to you.” But the
+aggressive note in her voice was gone, and her eyes were turned from
+him.
+
+He reached over and took her hands, one in each of his.
+
+“You have been my mainstay,” he said. “I could not have done my work
+without you. I could not have lived through it without you.”
+
+Extravagant, unwise, impulsive, he did not realize the depth of the
+meaning of his words. But she did. Her eyes met his and fell. Her
+cheeks paled. Her hands lay limp in his. It was but a moment. Some
+gentlemanly instinct moved him, some high-born spirit of _noblesse
+oblige_, some God-given sense of what a pure-hearted man owes to
+himself. He released her hands and rose from his chair.
+
+“I must leave you,” he said, “and go to the workmen’s meeting at
+Carpenter’s Hall. It is already past time.” And he added: “Will you not
+wait and see Mrs. Farrar? You can help her. She is very despondent and
+wretched. Give her some cheering thought. I will ask her to come in.”
+
+He left the room, and in it he left his visitor alone.
+
+Five minutes is not a long time within which to grasp one’s soul and
+draw it back from the brink of disaster. But Ruth Tracy had always been
+quick and courageous in meeting emergencies, and she was quick and
+courageous to-day. It was at the end of this five minutes that Mrs.
+Farrar entered the library. One who had known her six months before
+would hardly have recognized her now. Worn with her household tasks,
+harassed by the troubles of the time, sick at heart to the verge of
+prostration, she looked it all. Her face was gray, her cheeks were
+sunken, her lips were colorless, deep shadows rested under her eyes
+inflamed by much weeping.
+
+“Mr. Farrar told me,” she said, “that you wished to see me.”
+
+“Only to say to you,” replied Ruth, remembering her instructions, “that
+better times are coming; that the clouds will soon roll by.”
+
+“You only say that to try to comfort me,” was the response. “You do not
+really believe it in your heart.”
+
+“But things cannot go on this way forever, Mrs. Farrar. Even if the
+climax has not yet been reached it must come soon. April is almost
+here, and warmer weather. Under sunny skies the men will find more work
+to do; there will be less suffering in their families.”
+
+“I am not thinking about the men and their families, Miss Tracy. I am
+thinking about myself, and my children, and Mr. Farrar.”
+
+“I know. It has been dreadful. But you have been very patient. And Mr.
+Farrar has been a hero. And things are going to be better.”
+
+“No, I haven’t been patient. I haven’t reconciled myself to the
+situation at all. I have been placed in a most cruel position. I
+suppose Mr. Farrar is right. I know he must be right, because he is a
+good man. But if only it could have been done without making me suffer
+so!”
+
+She put her handkerchief to her eyes to dry the ready tears. Tears had
+come so freely and so frequently in these last days.
+
+Ruth, moved with deep pity, crossed the room, and sat by her, and took
+her hand in both of her own.
+
+“I am so sorry for you,” she said; “so sorry. But you know Mr. Farrar
+could not have done otherwise than he has done without belittling
+his calling as a minister. And you, as his wife, must try to forget
+yourself and your troubles, and help and comfort and encourage him.”
+
+“I can’t, Miss Tracy. It’s impossible. I lack both the strength and the
+ability. I haven’t what he calls ‘the vision.’ I haven’t any of the
+qualities that fit a woman to be a minister’s wife, and he knows it,
+and he has told me so.”
+
+“Mrs. Farrar, you must be mistaken. Surely he would not――――”
+
+“No, I am not mistaken. It’s all true. He knows I am utterly incapable,
+and he treats me accordingly. He never consults me about his work or
+his plans. He doesn’t even mention them to me any more. I don’t blame
+him. He knows it would be useless. I can’t understand them, and I can’t
+understand him nor sympathize with any of his views. I’m only a drag on
+him――a burden. It would be so much better if I were entirely out of his
+way.”
+
+“Mrs. Farrar! You must not talk so.”
+
+“But it’s true. And I shall be out of his way. I can’t endure a
+life like this. I shall die. I hope, for his sake, that I shall die
+soon. Then he will be free to marry one who will understand him, and
+sympathize with him, and be a companion to him as well as a wife.”
+
+“Mrs. Farrar! You are beside yourself. You have brooded too much over
+your troubles. You have been left too much alone. You must come oftener
+to see me, and I will come oftener to the rectory.”
+
+“Yes. That will please Mr. Farrar. He depends so much upon you. You are
+his mainstay. He could not have done his work without you. I doubt if
+he could have lived through all this without you, Miss Tracy.”
+
+This echo of the rector’s words fell upon the girl’s brain like hammer
+blows on an anvil. She felt herself growing weak, unsteady, at a loss
+how to reply. With a great effort she pulled herself together, and at
+last she said, unconscious echo of her own words spoken to the rector:
+
+“I am glad to have been of service to Mr. Farrar.” Then, gathering
+still greater self-control, she added: “But now I want to do even more
+for you, because I feel that yours is the greater need.”
+
+And the woman replied:
+
+“The greatest service you can do for me is to be good to my children
+after I am gone.”
+
+“But, Mrs. Farrar, you are not going to die. It――it’s absurd!”
+
+“Oh, yes. I am going to die. I’ve thought it all out. I’m going to die,
+and you are going to marry Mr. Farrar.”
+
+“Mrs. Farrar!”
+
+The girl sprang to her feet and put her hands before her eyes, shocked
+at this full revelation of the other woman’s mind.
+
+The minister’s wife went on mechanically:
+
+“Oh, I don’t charge you with having planned it in advance. You are too
+good to do that, and he is too loyal to me. But you are going to marry
+him, nevertheless, and it will be an ideal marriage. You will make him
+a perfect wife――――”
+
+“Mrs. Farrar, stop! You must not say such things! You are wild!”
+
+Ruth’s face was scarlet, and her eyes were wide with horror. But Mrs.
+Farrar would not stop.
+
+“You will make him a perfect wife,” she repeated. “You are in such
+close accord. He will be very fond of you, and you will both be very
+happy; very happy!”
+
+“Stop! I’ll not listen to you!” The girl put both hands to her ears and
+backed away. “I’ll not listen to you,” she repeated. “I’ll not stay!”
+
+Mrs. Farrar rose from her chair and followed her guest toward the door.
+
+“There’s only one thing I want to ask of you besides being good to
+my children after I am gone, and that is that you will not take Mr.
+Farrar’s love away from me during the little while that I shall live.”
+She held out her hands imploringly, and her voice rose in a passion of
+entreaty: “If you only knew how I have loved him, and what he has been
+to me, and how I want him for just this little while――――”
+
+But her guest had gone. Shocked, humiliated, terrified, she had turned
+her back to the beseeching woman, and had fled through the hall, out at
+the door, and down the steps to the walk and to the street. She pulled
+close the thick veil that had shielded her face from the March wind,
+so that it might also shield it from the gaze of the people whom she
+should meet, and hurried, with ever-increasing consternation, toward
+her home.
+
+What had happened? What had she done? Of what had she been guilty?
+Whose fault was it that this dreadful thing had come to pass? Vivid,
+soul-searching questions and thoughts tumbled tumultuously through her
+brain. Memories of the last half year came flooding back into her mind.
+Talks, confidences, sympathies, greetings and farewells, the touch of
+his hands on hers that day, the look in his eyes, in her own heart
+the emotion that she could not, and dared not attempt to define. And
+the wider her thought went, the more deeply she searched herself, the
+redder grew the blush of shame upon her cheeks, the more intolerable
+became her burden of humiliation. And always, in her mental vision,
+stood that distracted woman, with the gray face and beseeching eyes,
+and white lips moving with words that no wife should have spoken, and
+no other woman should have heard.
+
+At the foot of the broad street that leads up to Fountain Park she met
+Philip Westgate. She would have passed him by, but he blocked her path.
+
+“I have just come from your home,” he said. “There is something I want
+to tell you. May I walk back there with you?”
+
+“I can’t see you to-day,” she replied. “I am too tired to talk, or to
+listen.”
+
+“It will take but a minute. It is important.”
+
+“Then tell it to me here.”
+
+But she did not stop. She walked on and he walked with her.
+
+“I have no right to interfere,” he said, “save the right that any man
+has to try to prevent disaster to a friend.”
+
+“I understand. Go on. What is it you wish to say to me?”
+
+“This――that you are wearing yourself out, body and mind, in a cause
+that is utterly unworthy of you. The sacrifice is not only deplorable,
+it is useless.”
+
+“You have told me that before. But I have been doing God’s work among
+the poor, Philip, while you and those who believe as you do have
+hindered and crippled and made almost useless what might have been the
+most powerful instrumentality in the city for their relief.”
+
+He did not resent her criticism, nor did he make any effort to defend
+himself. His thought was only of her.
+
+“I am not chiding you,” he said, “for what you have done in the name
+of charity. You have been a good angel to those in distress. In
+everything――I say in everything――you have acted from the noblest of
+motives, with the purest of hearts.”
+
+“I have, Philip. Oh, I have! Believe me――in everything.”
+
+In her eagerness she stopped and turned toward him, and, beneath the
+thickness of her veil, he saw, by her face, that she was under the
+stress of some great emotion.
+
+“Beyond the shadow of a doubt,” he replied, as they walked on. “But you
+have been unwise; misguided. You have thrown in your fortunes with an
+impractical zealot, and he has led you into dangerous paths. I want to
+rescue you. That is my mission to you to-day.”
+
+“To rescue me? From what?”
+
+“From the disaster that is bound very soon to overtake the rector
+of Christ Church and all his visionary schemes. From the gossip of
+evil-minded persons who have linked your name with his.”
+
+“Philip!”
+
+“Forgive me! I had to say it. There was no one else to tell you.”
+
+“Philip! Have you believed it of me?”
+
+“No, dear, no.” He dropped into the old, affectionate way of speaking
+to her, but she did not dream of chiding him. “You have been absolutely
+blameless,” he continued. “I have already told you so. But it is time
+now for you to stop and count the cost. I do not ask you to do it
+for my sake. I ask you to do it for your own; for the sake of your
+father who grieves over you; for the sake of your mother who is almost
+distracted.”
+
+She did not answer his appeal; perhaps she did not hear it; but she
+questioned him again:
+
+“Philip, do you charge Mr. Farrar with any evil thought or motive?”
+
+Even as she spoke her cheeks were reddened anew from the memories of
+the hour just passed.
+
+“I am here to save you,” he replied, “not to condemn him.”
+
+“But I want an answer. Has he been guilty of anything, within your
+knowledge, unbecoming a minister and a gentleman?”
+
+“I am not here to smirch his reputation.”
+
+“What is it that he has done?”
+
+“I do not care to tell you.”
+
+“That is cowardly, Philip. I have a right to know. If your solicitude
+for me is genuine you will tell me. If this man has been evil either
+in heart or conduct I must know it.”
+
+The hour of Westgate’s temptation had come. Against her peremptory
+demand, against his own fierce desire to justify himself in the eyes
+of the woman whom he loved, arose the gentleman’s instinct to speak no
+evil of another, to hold sacred the knowledge with which the rector had
+frankly intrusted him. And yet――could any time be more opportune, could
+any occasion be more appropriate than this to smash the idol which this
+woman had been worshiping to her own destruction? He looked into her
+eyes and was silent. They had reached the foot of the steps leading up
+to her door. She turned, grasped an ornament carved into the stone of
+the newel-post and faced him insistently.
+
+“Philip! Speak to me. Tell me what you know.”
+
+“I will not tell you, Ruth.”
+
+“Why not?”
+
+“Because I respect myself, and I love you.”
+
+“You love me, and yet you come to me with the defaming gossip of the
+town, and when I ask you for facts that I may defend myself, you will
+not give them to me. You have entered into a conspiracy with him and
+his wife to wreck my peace of mind, and I shall end by hating all three
+of you.”
+
+She swept up the steps to her door; but when she reached it, some
+sudden wave of contrition, some dim realization of his manly
+self-restraint, entered her heart, and she turned and called him back,
+for he had already started away. She hurried down to meet him, and held
+out her hand, and he grasped it in both of his.
+
+“Philip,” she said, “forgive me! Such dreadful things have happened
+to-day that I am beside myself. Do not remember what I have said.
+Remember only that I――am grateful――to you.”
+
+Through the thick folds of her veil he saw that her eyes were filled
+with tears. He lifted her hand to his lips and, unabashed by the
+light of day or the peopled street, he kissed it. She made no sign of
+disapproval, but she drew her hand slowly from his grasp, turned again,
+ran up the steps, entered at her door and closed it, and left him
+standing, thrilled and amazed, in the center of the walk.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XIX
+
+                           THE STORM BREAKS
+
+
+The meeting to which the rector of Christ Church went from his interview
+with Ruth Tracy was a meeting of the Malleson Manufacturing Company’s
+striking workmen. It had been called by the strike committee for the
+purpose of submitting to the men the question of the advisability of
+calling off the strike. Many of the workers were in favor of an
+immediate and unconditional surrender. They felt that the limit of
+suffering had been reached, and that the only hope of relief lay in a
+complete abandonment of the fight, now, before new men should be taken
+into the works, and the bad blood aroused thereby should lead to
+disorder, and the permanent disbarment of the old men from the company’s
+employ. For, notwithstanding Richard Malleson’s declaration that he
+would not take any of them back no matter how they came, each one of
+them felt that the president might listen to his individual appeal.
+
+On the other hand there were those who believed that the threatened
+opening of the plant with imported strike-breakers was but a bluff put
+forth to break their ranks and to force them into submission, and that,
+if they could hold out for ten days more, the strike would be won. As
+for imported labor, if it came it would be given short shrift. Scabs
+were always cowards, and a proper show of determination on the part of
+the men would soon send the rats scurrying to their holes. Besides,
+Richard Malleson needed the old men as much as they needed him. He was
+on the point of financial disaster, and his only salvation was to take
+back all of his employees on their own terms.
+
+The differences between the two wings of the strikers were sharp and
+serious. The clash of ideas was grave and threatening. At the head of
+those who were in favor of yielding was Lamar. Indeed it was he who had
+skilfully worked up so powerful a sentiment for surrender. Leading the
+opposition was Bricky Hoover, the one hero of the strike, who, by crude
+logic and individual appeal, was still holding the minority in line.
+
+All day the battle of opinion had raged. Bad blood had been aroused.
+Quarrels were frequent. In some cases blows had been exchanged.
+
+It was, therefore, an excited and an impatient crowd that gathered that
+afternoon in front of Carpenters’ Hall as the hour for the meeting drew
+near. Wild rumors filled the air. Mr. Malleson had agreed to take them
+all back. Mr. Malleson had sworn that not one of them would ever again
+be permitted to enter his mills. Evictions were to begin at once. Their
+leaders had sold them out. Three hundred strike-breakers were already
+inside the plant; more were on the way. If any force was used on the
+new men the guards and deputies had been instructed to shoot to kill.
+These, and a hundred other stories, false and true, floated constantly
+back and forth through the moving and gesticulating crowd.
+
+It was well that the crowd kept moving, and gesticulating too for that
+matter, for the late March day had brought keen winds and flurries
+of snow, and comfort was not to be had by standing motionless in the
+street.
+
+It was past the hour for the meeting, and the doors of the hall had
+not yet been opened. That was inexcusable. The men demanded that they
+be permitted to enter in order that they might at least keep warm.
+They struggled with each other for places near the steps. Then word
+came that the proprietor of the hall had refused them entrance.
+One said that it was because the rent had not been paid in advance.
+Another said that the owners of the property were afraid there would
+be violence in the meeting, and the destruction of furniture. Still
+another called attention to the fact that the building was owned by
+Mr. Hughes and Colonel Boston, both of whom were directors of the
+Malleson Manufacturing Company. At this a few of the hot-headed ones
+were for smashing in the doors and taking possession anyway. It was a
+crime, they said, for any one to keep them standing in the street on
+a day like this. What unwise counsels might have prevailed will never
+be known, for, suddenly, a strong and penetrating voice rang out above
+the tumult. It was the voice of the rector of Christ Church. He was
+standing on the steps leading to the entrance door, and was inviting
+them to hold their meeting in the parish hall of his church, only five
+blocks away. He had learned of their predicament, had taken pity on
+them, and, moved by a generous impulse, was offering them shelter under
+a roof which truly had never covered such an audience as this. He bade
+them follow him. Some of them did so gladly, applauding his generosity
+as they went. Others fell into line sullenly and hesitatingly, seeing
+in the invitation only a bid, on the part of the Church, for the favor
+of the laboring masses. A few refused to go at all; declaring that they
+would perish rather than hold their meeting under the auspices or by
+grace of a Church the very shadow of whose spire was hateful to them.
+But, for the most part, they went along. A sense of decorum fell upon
+them as they entered the doors of the parish hall. They removed their
+caps, took their seats quietly, and awaited the presentation of the
+issues which they were to decide.
+
+The meeting was called to order by the president of their local union
+who stated briefly the purpose of the gathering, and then called for
+the report of the committee that had last visited the president of
+the Malleson Manufacturing Company. There was little in the report
+that was new to the men. Mr. Malleson had refused to open his mills
+to his former employees, on any terms, whether they came singly or in
+a body. He would not treat with them on any questions or under any
+conditions. He had said that they were dupes and fools to listen to
+the counsel of designing and self-seeking leaders who had nothing to
+lose and everything to gain by prolonging the strike. Finally, he had
+practically ordered the members of the committee from his room, and had
+warned them not to intrude again upon his privacy with their childish
+demands nor with their terms of surrender.
+
+At the conclusion of the report there were mutterings and hisses, and
+not a few bitter denunciations of the president and his policy, and
+these denunciations were not entirely unaccompanied by threats.
+
+A resolution was offered to the effect that the strike be declared
+off, and that the union officials and the officers of the company be
+notified at once of the action. The motion to adopt the resolution was
+duly seconded, and then the contention began anew. There were strong
+and passionate arguments both for and against the prolongation of the
+strike. Men with haggard faces told of the suffering that they and
+their families had endured, and begged that they might be permitted,
+without infraction of the union rules, and without the ignominy of
+being hailed and treated as scabs, to seek their old jobs. Others arose
+and appealed to their fellow-workmen, declaring that while they too
+had suffered, they were nevertheless ready to die in the last ditch in
+order that the dignity of labor might be maintained, and their rights
+as human beings upheld. It was crude oratory, but it had its effect.
+The tide of sentiment swung away from those who would bring the strike
+to a speedy end by surrender, and turned strongly toward those who
+would prolong it for the general and ultimate good.
+
+Stephen Lamar, walking delegate, sitting up in a far corner of the
+hall, surrounded by his personal adherents, watching the proceedings
+with anxious eyes, was quick to note the dangerous tendency that the
+meeting was taking on. He knew that he must at once fling himself and
+his personality into the controversy in order to stem the tide that
+was setting so strongly toward complete disaster. He had not cared to
+speak. He had not hitherto considered it necessary that he should do
+so. The situation had seemed to be firmly enough in his grasp. But now
+he felt that it was imperative that he should take the floor, else
+everything would be lost; and how would he ever again face Mary Bradley?
+
+When he arose there were hoarse shouts of welcome, and cries of “To the
+platform, Steve!” So he mounted the platform and began to speak. He
+reminded his hearers of the years of devoted service he had given to
+the cause of labor.
+
+Some one in the audience cried out:
+
+“Ye’ve been well paid for it, too.”
+
+He did not heed the interruption, but went on to tell of the superhuman
+efforts he had put forth to make this strike a success.
+
+“I have done all that mortal man could do,” he shouted, “to help you
+win your fight, and to relieve your distress. I have suffered with you.”
+
+“The hell you have!”
+
+It was the same voice that had interrupted before, and again the
+speaker disregarded it, and went vigorously on. He could not afford, in
+this emergency, to get into a controversy with some obscure workman on
+the floor.
+
+“I know all there is to know about this strike,” he declared. “And I
+know Richard Malleson and his board. Believe me, men, they are putting
+up no bluff. They mean what they say. They are determined to crush
+us. We are already beaten. The only thing left for us to do is to
+acknowledge our defeat, call off the strike, and give these starving
+men a chance to get honorably back to work.”
+
+Then came a new interruption from another source. Some one, back among
+the shadows, shouted in a shrill voice:
+
+“How much do you get for sellin’ of us out?”
+
+There were shouts and laughter, and then a roar of disapproval. Lamar
+was angry. He could not brook that insult. It struck too near home. He
+turned his face in the direction from which the voice had come.
+
+“I don’t know who you are,” he cried, “but I do know that you’re a
+cowardly liar!”
+
+In the dark corner confusion reigned. The man with the shrill voice
+wanted to fight. Some of his fellows were willing to back him; others
+sought to restrain him. An edifying spectacle, indeed, in a house
+dedicated to the promotion of the gospel of the Prince of Peace. The
+chairman of the meeting pounded for order so vigorously that quiet was
+finally restored and Lamar went on with his speech.
+
+“If you vote down this resolution,” he said, “you will compel honest
+men to become scabs. They can’t continue to face freezing wives and
+starving children at your behest. They will seek their old jobs on the
+best terms they can get, and I shall not blame them. I do not know
+what will happen when the strike is declared off; I can promise you
+nothing. But I do know that Richard Malleson cannot successfully run
+his mills without the aid of his old men. If you prolong this strike
+you will doubtless wreck the Malleson Company, but you yourselves will
+be crushed at the bottom of the wreck. I beg of you to make the best
+of a bad bargain, to use judgment, to take pity on your loved ones, to
+behave yourselves like reasonable men, to cry quits, and go to work.”
+
+There had been no more interruptions, but, mingled with the applause
+that followed Lamar to his seat, there were shouts of disapproval,
+and mutterings of anger. Some one, by way of excuse for him, declared
+that Steve had broken down, and lost his nerve. No one had ever before
+known him to acknowledge defeat. Persistence had been the secret of his
+success. But, doubtless, this time he was right.
+
+Bricky Hoover sat in the front row of seats, his body bent forward, his
+head resting in his hands, his eyes fixed steadfastly on a certain spot
+on the floor in front of him. No one had called on him for a speech,
+for no one had conceived that he was capable of making one. He was a
+worker, not an orator. But the shouting that followed Lamar’s address
+had not yet died down when he rose to his feet and began to mount the
+steps that led to the platform. He bobbed his head to the chairman,
+and then turned and faced his audience. When his fellow-workers saw
+him standing there, rubbing his hand awkwardly across his unkempt
+shock of red hair, they burst into laughter. Apparently the strain
+under which they were laboring was to be eased by a bit of comedy. He
+stood there with his long legs wide apart, his shoulders hunched up,
+his unsymmetrical face drawn into a queer, forced smile. Some one said
+that he had been drinking, and had best sit down. But others hailed
+him familiarly and shouted for a speech. He was there to speak, and he
+began.
+
+There were few who heard him at first; his voice was low, and he seemed
+to have difficulty in articulating his words. But cries of: “Louder!”
+“Louder!” brought more vigor to his throat and tongue, and soon the
+only ones who failed to hear him were those who would not do so.
+
+“I’ve been the goat,” he said, “for both sides in this thing. I’m
+through bein’ the goat. I’m goin’ to fight, now, on me own account. The
+Company picked me for the first victim because I’d been the loudest
+gittin’ yer rights for ye. More was to follow. If ye hadn’t struck
+they’d ’a’ been a hunderd o’ ye laid off by to-day. They was goin’ to
+pick ye out like cullin’s, an’ toss ye to the scrap-heap.”
+
+“Right you are, Bricky,” came a voice from the audience.
+
+“Right I am it is. Ye didn’t strike for me when it comes to that; ye
+struck for your own jobs. Ye could ’a’ counted me out any day. Ye knew
+that. I told ye so. I wouldn’t stand in the way o’ one o’ ye. I’d ’a’
+left the town; I’d ’a’ left the country; I’d ’a’ gone an’ hung meself
+to ’a’ got one man’s job back for ’im.”
+
+“Good boy, Bricky!”
+
+“Ye knew that, didn’t ye? But ye stood out like men, an’ they’ve
+starved ye like rats. They couldn’t ’a’ treated dogs no worse ’an
+they’ve treated you. I went with the comity to see the old man. I
+promised everything. I crawled on me belly to ’im, an’――ye heard the
+report――he kicked us all out.”
+
+“We’ll get him yet!” came a cry from the benches.
+
+“Ye will if ye’ll listen to me. They say call the strike off an’
+git out. Men, ye can’t git out that way. It’s death to ye if ye try
+it. Maybe it’s death anyway, I don’t know; but if it is I’ll die
+a-fightin’.”
+
+“So will I!” “And I!” “And I!”
+
+“That’s right! If ye fight, an’ fight like hell, ye’ll win. I know.
+They can’t run their mills with scabs. You won’t let ’em run their
+mills with scabs. I’ll smash the head o’ the first scab that takes my
+job. It ain’t his job; it’s mine. I’ve got a right to it. Them jobs
+down there are yours. Them machines down there are yours. You earned
+the money that bought ’em. You’ve got a right to run ’em, an’ if ye do
+what I tell ye, ye will run ’em. The man that lays down now an’ lets
+Dick Malleson tread on ’is neck is a damned fool!”
+
+“That’s right, Bricky! Go for ’em! Give ’em hell!”
+
+The passions of the crowd, swayed by Bricky’s rude eloquence, were
+being roused to the fighting pitch.
+
+“Yes,” he went on, swinging his long arms, and opening and closing his
+big fists; “an’ do ye know what’s happenin’ to-day? A car-load o’ scabs
+has been switched into the mill-yard. I got the word when I come in. By
+six o’clock one of ’em will have your machine, Bill Souder, and one of
+’em will have yours, Abe Slinsky, and one of ’em will have yours, and
+yours, and yours,” pointing his forefinger in rapid succession at the
+men who sat in front of him. His voice rose to a piercing height:
+
+“Will ye let ’em keep ’em?”
+
+“No!” came the answer from two hundred throats. “No!” “We’ll club ’em
+out! We’ll kill ’em!”
+
+Men were on their feet, shouting, gesticulating, demanding, swearing.
+Bricky’s voice rose again, high above the clamor.
+
+“I don’t know what you’re goin’ to do about it, men; but I know what
+I’m goin’ to do. I’m goin’ down, now, to see Dick Malleson. I ain’t
+goin’ to beg ’im for my job; I’m goin’ to demand it, and if he don’t
+give it to me, by God! I’ll take it! And if ye’ll go along ye’ll have
+them millionaries on their knees in an hour’s time, a-beggin’ for
+mercy. Who goes?”
+
+“We all go! We’re fightin’ strong, an’ we’re fightin’ mad, an’ we’ll
+have our rights. Come on!”
+
+There was a rush for the hall doors. The sound of the chairman’s
+gavel was lost in the din. The pending resolution and its fate were
+forgotten. Men fought with each other in their eagerness to get to
+the street and to take up the line of march to the mills. Chairs were
+overturned. Doors were wrenched from their hinges. Prayer-books and
+hymnals and lesson-leaves were scattered on the floor and trampled
+under shuffling feet. Lamar, red-faced, shouting, gesticulating, tried
+to stem the torrent, but he might as well have tried to hold back
+Niagara. Some laughed at him, others cursed him, no one obeyed him.
+
+The rector of Christ Church, standing in a niche by the organ, had
+looked on and listened in horrified amazement. He saw that the hour for
+riot and bloodshed had arrived, and he made one supreme effort to avert
+the final catastrophe. He sprang to the platform and shouted to the
+mob. Men turned to see who it was that was speaking, and then turned
+away. They did not care to hear him. They paid no more attention to him
+than if he had been a man of straw, except that some of them laughed
+at him, some mocked him, some ridiculed him. His appeal for wisdom and
+order fell on deaf ears. These men had no use, to-day, for sermons or
+religion, or pious advice. What they wanted was action――and plenty of
+it.
+
+When he found that his effort was utterly useless, the rector stopped
+speaking and came down from the platform. At the foot of the steps he
+met Lamar, gazing, with frightened eyes, at the disappearing crowd.
+
+“Lamar,” he cried, “stop them! They’re wild! They’re rushing to
+destruction!”
+
+“I can’t,” replied Lamar. “No man can stop them. God in heaven couldn’t
+stop them now!”
+
+From Lamar’s lips the ejaculation was impious, but the clergyman did
+not stop to consider it.
+
+“Then come with me,” he said. “Let’s follow on and do what we may to
+prevent bloodshed and arson.”
+
+Lamar made no reply, but he started on in obedience to the request. So
+they went on their hopeless mission, servant of Christ and enemy of
+God together, both rejected by those whom they had served, hissed and
+hooted at as they made their way through crowded streets black with the
+breaking storm.
+
+The march of the workmen themselves was not without the semblance of
+order. But idle men on every corner joined them, vicious men, whose
+only occupation it was to prey upon society, fell into their ranks;
+hoodlums and hotheads, shouting their enthusiasm, went joyously along;
+the curious and sensation loving followed on behind in scores; even
+women and children mingled with the crowd that was headed ominously
+toward the mills.
+
+Forerunners hurried back to say that a company of scabs had entered the
+mill-yard, guarded by deputies armed to the teeth. The mob howled its
+defiance and derision, and pushed on.
+
+The entrance to the Malleson mills was at the foot of a narrow street.
+In front of the works a broad plaza ran, blocked at both ends by
+buildings of the company. Along this street and across this plaza the
+army of employees, in working times, made their way to and from their
+place of employment. It was down this street now that the crowd swept,
+bent on presenting and enforcing their demand for work. But just above
+where the way opens into the plaza, stretched from wall to wall, two
+ranks of policemen stood, shoulder to shoulder, club in hand, ready
+to repel any invasion of the property of the rich. The leaders of the
+mob, scarcely able to resist the pressure from behind, halted when they
+reached the line of blue.
+
+“What do you want?” inquired the captain of police.
+
+“We want to see Richard Malleson,” was the reply.
+
+“You can’t see him.”
+
+“We want our jobs.”
+
+“You can’t go to the mills.”
+
+“We want to drive out the scabs.”
+
+“The first man that attempts to cross this line will go home with a
+cracked skull.”
+
+The mob howled with disappointment and rage. Who said the police were
+not the paid and servient tools of capital? Whoever said so lied!
+
+Struggling, pushing, shouldering their way through the hostile crowd,
+the rector of Christ Church and Stephen Lamar got inch by inch toward
+the front. On the way down they had agreed to make one final appeal to
+Richard Malleson for peace. He alone could stay the red hand of riot.
+It was not believable that he would refuse.
+
+The captain of police recognized them, and when he knew what their
+errand was he permitted them to pass the lines. They started across the
+open plaza toward the front of the main building.
+
+“You’re going where you belong!” came the cry from those in the mob
+who saw them go. “You’ve sold us out, and you’re going for your pay!”
+“Traitors!” “Blacklegs!”
+
+All reason and judgment, all power to discriminate, seemed lost and
+swallowed up in the overwhelming passion of revolt that had seized upon
+the riotous crowd.
+
+Two guards stood at the top of the steps, one at each side of the
+office door.
+
+“We want to see Mr. Malleson,” said the rector.
+
+“You can’t see him,” was the reply. “No one is allowed to go in.”
+
+“But we must talk with him at once; it’s a matter of life and death.”
+
+The man looked at him for a moment, and then turned and entered the
+building. He came back presently to say that Mr. Farrar might go in,
+but that Lamar would not be admitted under any conditions. So the labor
+leader went down the steps and stood by the railing outside, while the
+rector passed in to the office of the company. Mr. Malleson was there
+with his counsel, Philip Westgate, a half dozen anxious members of his
+board of directors, and a few frightened clerks. He looked up as the
+rector entered.
+
+“Well,” he asked bluntly, “what is your errand to-day?”
+
+“I have come,” said the rector, “to try to avert bloodshed.”
+
+“And you have brought with you the club and torch with which you
+threatened me.”
+
+“Mr. Malleson, this is no time for caviling. Do you see the mob in that
+street? It’s only a question of minutes when the police barrier will be
+broken down, and these furious men will be at your door. There is but
+one way to avoid riot and arson and bloodshed. You must face these men
+and promise to open your mills to them. It is your last expedient.”
+
+The president of the company brought his clenched hand down onto the
+table with a bang.
+
+“Is this your only errand?” he asked.
+
+“It is.”
+
+“Then go back and tell the thugs and hoodlums who sent you here that
+Richard Malleson has never yet surrendered to a mob, and that he never
+will. Tell them, moreover, that I have armed men behind my walls, and
+that the first rioter who attempts to enter here will take his life in
+his hands.”
+
+“But, Mr. Malleson, that would be murder. These men have lost their
+heads. They don’t know what they are doing. They are wild. One word
+from you would restore their reason and prevent a tragedy.”
+
+“I have said my last word.”
+
+Some one, looking from the window, exclaimed in fright:
+
+“They’ve broken the police lines! They’re swarming into the plaza!”
+
+It was true. The pressure of the mob had broken down the police guard,
+and enraged men by the hundreds were pouring into the open space
+that faced the factory. They were rattling at the doors of the mill,
+hammering against the gates, demanding to be let in. Hoodlums were
+yelling; women were screaming; fists were beating the air.
+
+“Break down the door!” was the cry. “Smash the gates!” “Burn the mill!”
+“Kill the scabs!”
+
+Richard Malleson, standing there with white face and set jaws, had seen
+them come. So had the rector of Christ Church. Both of them had heard
+the riotous and savage shouts. In the breast of the capitalist only
+fierce wrath was roused; but in the breast of the minister anger was
+mingled with pity.
+
+“I can do nothing here,” he said. “I may still be able to do something
+out there.”
+
+He turned to go, but Westgate laid a hand on his arm.
+
+“You had better stay here,” he said, “where you will be comparatively
+safe. It’s a wild mess outside. Bricks and bullets are likely to fly
+soon.”
+
+“No matter! My place is with the men. They may listen to me yet.”
+
+“They won’t listen to any one till they get their fill of blood.”
+
+But he went out. He pushed his way down the steps that led from the
+office door to the sidewalk, down into the midst of pandemonium. A
+wild-eyed man at his elbow yelled:
+
+“Death to the scabs! Set fire to the buildings, an’ smoke ’em all out!”
+
+Near by a single policeman was battling with a dozen frenzied rioters.
+They had struck his cap from his head and were trying to wrest his club
+from his hands.
+
+“Don’t play with ’im!” shouted one; “choke ’im!”
+
+The white face of the president of the company, distorted with anger,
+appeared for a moment at an office window.
+
+“There’s Dick Malleson!” was the cry. “He starves women an’ kills
+babies! Get a rope an’ hang ’im!”
+
+Each wild and murderous sentiment was received with roars of approval
+by the bloodthirsty mob. The rector of Christ Church, amazed and
+indignant at the spirit of brutal savagery displayed by the men whose
+cause he had hitherto championed, determined to speak to them. He
+fought his way back up the steps to the office door, threw his hat from
+him, and faced the riotous multitude.
+
+“Men,” he shouted, “listen to me!”
+
+“Listen to the preacher!” yelled a man at his side.
+
+“Damn the preacher!” cried another. “He’s a traitor and a blackleg!”
+
+“You lie!” was the quick response; “and that proves it.”
+
+The man who had cursed the preacher doubled up and sank to the pavement
+under a blow from the other man’s fist. It was the swift and natural
+result of the controversy, for the spirit of violence was abroad. In
+the lull that followed the punishment the rector again lifted his voice.
+
+“Men, you are crazy. You are taking a fool’s revenge. You are playing
+into the hands of your enemies. Stop this ungodly riot and go to your
+homes before blood is spilt!”
+
+As if in defiance of his command, a brick went crashing through the
+office window at his side, and a cry, either of pain or fear, came from
+within the room. His heart grew hot with indignation.
+
+“That was a coward’s deed!” he shouted. “Shame on the one who did it!”
+
+Already other bricks, torn from a foundation newly laid, were flying
+through the air. The sound of crashing glass was heard from every
+quarter. Policemen, back to back, were battling furiously with the mob.
+
+“Pull the preacher down!” yelled a man from the street. “He’s no
+business here!”
+
+“Aye! Pull him down!” came the answering cry from a dozen throats.
+“He’s the tool of capital, and an enemy to labor!”
+
+But the minister was not dismayed. His voice rang out like the wrathful
+blare of a trumpet:
+
+“I will speak, and you must listen. In God’s name, men, are you mad?
+You’ll have blood on your heads――――”
+
+“Aye! and if this brick-bat goes straight you’ll have blood on yours!”
+
+The speaker, standing in the street, took rough aim and hurled his
+missile. It found its mark. The rector of Christ Church tottered and
+fell, and those who stood near to him saw blood gush from his temple
+and go streaming down his face. A woman screamed, and fought her way to
+him as he lay sprawled along the steps. It was Mary Bradley. She flung
+herself down at his side. She lifted his shoulders into her lap, and
+held his head against her breast, and strove to staunch the blood that
+was pouring from his wound. She turned her blazing eyes on the crowd
+below her, a crowd that had grown suddenly silent as it saw the result
+of its first tragic blow.
+
+“Villains!” she screamed. “Murderers! You have killed the only man on
+earth who cared a pin for your black souls!――the only man whose love I
+ever craved.”
+
+Her cry ended in a wail. She laid her face against the pallid and
+blood-streaked face that rested on her bosom, and sought to find in it
+some sign of life. The guards unlocked the office door and carried the
+limp body of the minister within, taking with them, perforce, the woman
+who would not let go her hold. But, once inside, they tore her away,
+and thrust her from them, like a thing unclean.
+
+Hitherto the police, in obedience to orders, had endeavored to hold
+the rioters in check without the shedding of blood. But now, shocked
+and angered at the brutal assault on the rector, and taking advantage
+of the temporary lull occasioned by it, they charged into the mob.
+Firmly, furiously, with the strength of twice their number, they drove
+the rabble back. There was savage resistance. There were broken heads.
+There were bullets that went wild. Bleeding men lay prone on the
+pavement. Then came a relief squad, hammering its way in; and from each
+blind end of the plaza the rioters were forced to the center, and up
+the narrow street toward the city. Enraged, sullen, bleeding, carrying
+helpless comrades along, they were scattered and driven in helpless
+confusion to their haunts and homes.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XX
+
+                          “BLACK AS THE PIT”
+
+
+It was Friday afternoon that the riot took place. It was now Sunday
+morning, and the first day of April. The sun was shining gloriously.
+Birds were chirping in the bare trees. The first springing green was
+giving life to the rectory lawn. But the rector of Christ Church,
+looking out from his window toward the street, neither saw nor heard
+these signs of the wakening season. The sound of the tolling church
+bell struck upon his ears. He knew that the hour for morning service
+was approaching, but the knowledge gave him little concern. His
+children were playing in the hall. He paid no heed to them. It was not
+that he was ill in body, but that he was sick in soul. His wound had
+been severe, but it had not placed his life in jeopardy. A glancing
+blow from a flying brick that had crashed through the glass panel of
+the door behind him had first laid his scalp open to the bone. He was
+still weak from the shock of the blow and from loss of blood. But
+prompt and skilful surgical attention, and a robust constitution, were
+bringing him rapidly back into his customary form. It was not the
+result of the violent and brutal assault upon his body from which he
+was suffering to-day; it was rather the awakening knowledge of what
+that assault implied. The toilers for whose sake he had dared the
+displeasure of the powerful, the oppressed for whom he had pleaded and
+fought, the poverty-stricken whose sufferings he had relieved with his
+own hands and out of his own pittance, had repudiated and repulsed
+him, and finally had stoned him. Could ingratitude reach greater
+depths? Had a bitterer cup than this ever been held to the lips of any
+minister of that Christ who alone had felt the extreme bitterness of
+ingratitude?
+
+And yet he scarcely knew the half of what these toilers thought of
+him to-day. He had no conception of the strong resentment――resentment
+without cause that burned in their hearts against him. He had preached
+fairly enough indeed; but what had he actually done for them? He had
+declaimed against the power of capital, but capital had not loosened
+its grip on them by so much as the breadth of a hair. He had been
+charitable to them, oh, yes! and had visited their sick with pious
+consolation, and had lured them into unwitting friendship for him and
+his church, and had opened his parish hall to them on a March day, and
+what had been the purpose of it all? Only that he might betray them,
+at the last, into the hands of those tyrannical masters who had hired
+him, and whom they had repudiated once and for all. For had he not,
+when the hour came to strike the final blow for victory, thrown himself
+across their path, besought them to surrender to their oppressors, and
+when they would not, called them to their faces fools and cowards and
+murderers? One brick against his pious skull? He should have had a
+thousand. Curses on him and his sinister religion with its meaningless
+sop to socialism, and its cloven hoof hidden under its clerical robes!
+
+Ah! but the denunciation of the poor was as nothing to the condemnation
+of the rich. By the teaching of his social heresies he had led the
+ignorant and the thoughtless into an attitude toward society that was
+bound to result in violence and bloodshed, as it had resulted. He had
+disgraced the religion he was supposed to preach. He had degraded
+his Church, and debased his high calling. He had opened their sacred
+buildings to a profane and howling crowd. The walls of their parish
+hall had echoed with incendiary speeches, with appeals to the worst
+passions of the heart, with jeers and curses and the crack and crash
+of churchly furniture. And out from the doors of this profanated
+house had issued a riotous and bloodthirsty mob, bent on destroying
+the property if not the lives of some of the most law-abiding and
+God-fearing citizens of the city or the state. What degradation! What
+unheard of sacrilege!
+
+And in the midst and at the height of this disgraceful riot which he
+had done so much to precipitate, what a spectacle this discredited
+priest had made of himself! Alternately appealing to and denouncing
+the reckless mob that surrounded him, he had aroused only their scorn
+and resentment, until one of them, more daring than his companions,
+had felled the offending minister with a common brick. Disgusting
+enough, indeed! But that was not the worst of it; oh, by no means!
+For, as he lay sprawling and unconscious on the steps, surrounded by
+rioters and ruffians, had not a woman of the lower class, a socialist,
+an anarchist, an atheist, a consorter with desperate characters, a
+woman whose vulgar husband had been scarce six months dead, had not she
+rushed to his side, and embraced him, and kissed him, and wept over
+him, and shrieked to the crowd that he was the only man she had ever
+loved?
+
+But when they reached this dramatic climax of the clergyman’s
+degradation, the scandalized gossips spoke in whispers lest some one,
+overhearing them, should charge them with spreading unclean tales.
+
+Had the rector of Christ Church known the things that loose tongues
+were saying of him, had he known what had happened after he fell
+unconscious on the office steps――for no one had yet had the hardihood
+to tell him, and the newspapers, with becoming decency, had failed to
+publish the incident――would he have gone into his pulpit that April
+morning to preach to his people the gospel of a sinless Christ? It is
+not to be doubted. For he would have felt in his heart that he was
+guiltless and without stain, and, as yet, he had not known fear.
+Indeed, he had not yet acknowledged his defeat. He was hurt, grieved,
+humiliated, but not conquered. His spirit was not that of the Hebrew
+psalmist pouring out his soul in the de profundis. It was rather that
+of Henly’s hero thundering his pagan defiance at fate. The lines came
+into his mind now as he stood gazing from his window into the sunlight
+on the lawn, and brought to him a strange and unchristian consolation.
+
+    “Out of the night that covers me,
+       Black as the pit from pole to pole,
+     I thank whatever gods may be
+       For my unconquerable soul.
+
+    “In the fell clutch of circumstance
+       I have not winced nor cried aloud.
+     Under the bludgeonings of chance
+       My head is bloody but unbowed.”
+
+At the hour for service he entered the church, robed himself, and
+followed the poor remnant of his choir to the chancel in reverent
+processional. But when he looked out upon his congregation he
+experienced a shock more painful to him than that caused by the
+rioter’s brick. There was but a handful of worshipers in the church.
+Pew after pew was empty. Great sections of pews were wholly devoid of
+occupants. Men and women whose devotion to the Church had led them, up
+to this time, against their inclinations, to continue their attendance
+on its services, were unwilling to-day, after the events of the past
+week, to hear the prayers and lessons read, or a sermon preached, by
+a priest who had so forgotten the duty and the dignity of his sacred
+calling. And of the toilers who had crowded the pews and overflowed
+into the aisles scarcely more than a month before, only a beggarly
+few were here to-day. Rich and poor alike had deserted and repudiated
+him. Even Ruth Tracy was not in her accustomed place, nor could his
+searching eyes discover her anywhere in the church. Mary Bradley,
+too, was absent. Had both these women, from whom he had drawn so much
+comfort and inspiration in the past, on whom he had leaned in absolute
+confidence, of whose supreme loyalty he had never had the shadow of
+a doubt; had they too fallen by the wayside, too weak and skeptical
+to follow him to the end of the heaven-ordained path he had chosen to
+tread? Would God Almighty be the next to desert him?
+
+For the first time in all his hapless crusade his heart began to fail
+him, a strange and insidious weakness, crept in upon him. His hand
+trembled as he lifted the book and read:
+
+“The Lord is in His holy temple. Let all the earth keep silence before
+Him.”
+
+The sound of his voice came back to him in dull echoes from the waste
+of vacant pews.
+
+“Dearly beloved brethren, the Scripture moveth us in sundry places――――”
+His voice failed him, and he paused. But it was only for a moment. With
+stern resolution he fought back his weakness, gathered new strength,
+and went on with his service.
+
+His sermon that morning――he had prepared it early the preceding
+week――was based upon the parable of the householder and the tares.
+
+“God help us,” he said in closing, “if we have mistaken the command of
+our Lord, and have gone out to gather up the tares, and, inadvertently
+and foolishly, have rooted up also the wheat with them. It were
+doubtless better that they should have grown together till the harvest
+time, when the Lord of the harvest, himself, would have gathered and
+separated them.”
+
+Then he sent out the alms-basins, and they came back to him to be
+presented at the altar, lined with a pathetic pittance.
+
+As it was the first Sunday in the month he proceeded with the
+administration of the Holy Communion. He uncovered the bread and
+the wine and set them out on the Lord’s table. But there were few to
+partake of them. The chancel rail which, in other days, had been filled
+many times in succession with devout communicants, had room enough now
+and much to spare to accommodate all who had remained for the passing
+of the consecrated elements.
+
+Soberly, devoutly, with a tenderness he had never felt before, he
+performed the office of the communion. It was only at the benediction
+that his heart and voice again failed him, and the last “Amen” came
+almost with a sob from his lips.
+
+After the service was ended a few of his friends, men and women,
+remained to clasp his hand, to inquire about his wound, and to give him
+sympathy and encouragement. They were those who had stood by him and
+would still stand by him, even though they saw the church falling into
+wreck about his feet, because they believed in him and loved him. But
+not much was said. The feeling on the part of both priest and people
+was too deep to find ready expression in words. And when they came out
+into the open air they found that dark clouds had obscured the sun, and
+that the wind was blowing cold across the flying buttresses of the gray
+stone church.
+
+As for Ruth Tracy, she could not have done otherwise than absent
+herself from the morning service. Her cheeks were still burning because
+of the revelation made to her by Mrs. Farrar, and because of Westgate’s
+disclosure of the gossip of the town. After those things had come the
+riot with its tragical incidents, the murderous assault on the rector,
+the scandalous outcry of Mary Bradley. What wonder that she felt the
+solid ground of faith sinking beneath her feet, and that, frightened
+and dismayed, she dared not leave her home, and almost feared to look
+the members of her own household in the face. And what wonder that, in
+her distress, her mind and heart turned, half-unconsciously, toward
+the lover whom she had dismissed, as being the one person in all the
+world who had soul and strength enough to rescue her from herself.
+
+It was not greatly different with Mary Bradley. If the public, by
+reason of Friday’s incident, had learned the secret of her heart, it
+would not find her so bold and shameless on the Sunday following as
+even to be seen outside her door. Indeed, from the hour when she had
+been thrust out from his presence, and had crept moaning home with
+her blood-stained garments on her, she had held herself in strict
+seclusion. Lamar had come, demanding an interview. The old woman with
+the wrinkled face had opened the door an inch, and had told him that
+Mary would not see him. He came again the following day and made his
+demand insistent. The old woman obeyed her instructions.
+
+“You can’t see her,” she said. “Nobody can’t see her.”
+
+“But I’ve got to see her. There’s a thing I’ve got to settle with her.”
+
+“You can’t settle with her to-day.”
+
+“To-morrow, then?”
+
+“No, not to-morrow, nor next week, nor next year. She’s through with
+ye.”
+
+“You infernal hag! What do you know about it? You go tell her to come
+out or I’ll drag her out.”
+
+The old woman slammed the door in his face and locked and bolted it,
+and he went away cursing.
+
+There were other callers――the sympathetic, the curious, the evil-minded.
+There was one answer at the door to all of them: Mrs. Bradley would see
+no one.
+
+On Sunday evening, at dusk, Barry Malleson came. In response to his
+knock the old woman opened the door a crack.
+
+“You can’t see her,” she said, before Barry had even a chance to speak.
+“She don’t see nobody.”
+
+“Maybe,” replied Barry, deprecatingly, “if she knew who it was she
+might be willing.”
+
+“Don’t make no difference who it is,” responded the old woman. “She
+wouldn’t see the Lord from heaven.”
+
+Without further ado she closed the door and bolted it, and Barry turned
+sadly away.
+
+But Mary Bradley, sitting alone in her room, thought she caught the
+sound of a familiar voice.
+
+“Mother,” she said, “was that Barry Malleson?”
+
+And, without waiting for a reply, she swept across the room, unbolted
+the door, flung it open and called out to him:
+
+“Barry!”
+
+“Yes, Mary.”
+
+“Come back! I want you.”
+
+He came gladly. She took him into the little sitting-room. The shades
+at the windows were drawn close, and the lamp on the table burned
+dimly. Barry remembered the time when he came there and saw, through
+a partly opened doorway, the sheeted body of John Bradley lying in an
+adjoining room. It was not a pleasant memory.
+
+In the half-light of the place the woman’s face looked ghastly. Perhaps
+it was due to the way in which the shadows fell on it. Her eyes were
+still large and luminous indeed, but under them were dark crescents,
+and the fine curve of her lips was lost in a pathetic droop. Barry,
+looking on her, pitied her.
+
+“I didn’t come to bother you,” he said. “I just wanted to see you. I
+wanted to tell you――――”
+
+She interrupted him: “I know. You are so good. I don’t deserve it. I
+couldn’t blame you if you hated me.”
+
+“I don’t hate you, Mary. I love you. I don’t care what they say. I
+don’t care what you said on the office steps that day. I love you.”
+
+“You mustn’t talk that way any more, Barry. I mustn’t let you. I ought
+never to have let you talk that way, or think that way. I did you a
+wrong. In my eagerness for revenge on others I did you a great wrong.
+I am sorry now. It was wicked in me to deceive you.”
+
+“Yes, that’s what they say to me. They always told me you were
+deceiving me. It doesn’t matter if you were. I harbor no resentment nor
+jealousy. I’ll start in all over again. I’ll begin my courtship anew,
+if you’ll let me. And I’ll teach you to outlive your love for the other
+fellow. That’s what I came to tell you to-night.”
+
+“Barry, you have a heart of gold.”
+
+“Yes. You know that other fellow is impossible, Mary. He has a wife and
+children. And he’s a good man. No better man ever lived.”
+
+“That’s true, Barry. Oh, that’s very true. He’s too good to have been
+made the victim of my reckless folly. But I thought they had killed
+him. I thought they had killed him, and I was wild. I know he wasn’t
+killed, but I haven’t heard from him for two days. The suspense has
+been terrible. Barry, tell me what you know about him. Have you seen
+him?”
+
+Her hands, lying on the table, were clasped tightly together, and she
+looked across at him as though she were ready to devour his anticipated
+words.
+
+“Why, yes,” replied Barry. “I went to see him Saturday. He had a bad
+wound on his head, but the doctor fixed him up all right, and he’ll get
+over it in a few days. In fact he held service yesterday as usual.”
+
+She gave a great sigh of relief.
+
+“I’m so glad!” she exclaimed, and repeated: “I’m so glad!”
+
+“I don’t think,” added Barry, “that the brick-bat hurt him nearly as
+much as the fact that it came from the ranks of those whom he had
+befriended.”
+
+“I know. They were cowards; ingrates! They had murder in their hearts.
+As for me I’m through with them――forever.”
+
+The old blaze of indignation came into her eyes, and the ghost of a
+flame crept into her cheeks.
+
+“I’m beginning to feel the same way about it,” replied Barry. “You know
+I can’t stand for what those fellows did to Farrar.”
+
+Her mind turned to another phase of the catastrophe.
+
+“Barry,” she asked, “does he know――――” She paused, but he divined the
+question that was in her thought.
+
+“I don’t believe,” he replied, “that he knows a thing. He was knocked
+insensible, and there isn’t anybody who would go and tell him such a
+thing――unless it might be――――”
+
+“Who?”
+
+“Jane Chichester.”
+
+After that, for a moment, neither Mrs. Bradley nor her visitor spoke.
+Both appeared to be deeply immersed in thought. Finally the woman
+looked up at him.
+
+“Barry,” she said, “I’m going away.”
+
+“Going away?”
+
+“Yes. I can’t stay here. It’s impossible. I must go. For his sake I
+must go. I’ve thought it all out. I’ve begun to get ready.”
+
+“When are you going?”
+
+“To-morrow, maybe. Next day, surely. I shall slip quietly away. No one
+but you will know it till after I’ve gone.”
+
+“Where are you going?”
+
+“Out to my brother Jim’s ranch. He has written for mother and me to
+come to him. We’ll go now.”
+
+“And I’ll go with you.”
+
+“You must not do that, Barry.”
+
+“Then I’ll come later.”
+
+“No, Barry. I would only destroy your peace of mind and all your
+opportunities. Some day, very soon I hope, this dreadful trouble will
+be over, and then you’ll get back into the old life again, and be
+happy.”
+
+“I shall never be happy without you.”
+
+“Oh, yes, you will. You will forget me. You must forget me. I have
+been a traitor to you. I have been willing to sacrifice you to satisfy
+a passion for revenge. I have used you as a mere instrument to carry
+out my desires. I can atone for my wickedness only in one way: by
+compelling you to blot me out of your memory.”
+
+Barry looked at her in dumb incredulity. He had no conception of what
+lay in her mind, he could not fathom the meaning of the words she spoke
+to him. After a moment he said:
+
+“I don’t know anything about it, Mary. I don’t understand it at all. I
+only know that if you go away and leave me――like that, it will break my
+heart.”
+
+She reached across the table and took both his hands in hers, as she
+had done once in her office in the Potter Building, and she looked into
+his eyes with a look vastly more tender and confident than she had
+given him on that day.
+
+“Barry,” she said, “you believe in me?”
+
+“With all my heart.”
+
+“And you believe I am trying to do what is best for both of us?”
+
+“I suppose you are.”
+
+“Then, for my sake, do what I ask of you. Don’t follow me. Don’t try
+to find me. Don’t try to learn anything about me. And if the day or
+the hour should ever come when I feel that your true happiness can be
+promoted, even by one little jot, through any word or act of mine, I
+shall give it to you. There, you must be satisfied with that, Barry;
+you must.”
+
+As in the old days he had been unable to deny her anything she chose to
+ask, so now, under the spell of her gaze, he had no power to refuse her
+request. She rose from the table, still holding his hands in hers, and
+moved with him toward the door. He hardly knew that he was being led.
+
+“And, Barry,” she added, “you will do me one more favor? You have been
+my friend, my brother, my loyal and devoted helper in everything. You
+will do me one more favor?”
+
+“A hundred.”
+
+“If――if he should learn what I said and did that day, will you tell
+him, Barry――will you tell him that it is true that I love him, and that
+because I love him I have dropped out of his life forever? Will you
+tell him, Barry?”
+
+“Sure; I’ll tell him.”
+
+“Thank you! You are the dearest friend I ever had, the most loyal and
+unselfish. There, good-night!”
+
+She released his hands, put her arms up about his neck, drew down his
+face to hers, and kissed him.
+
+“There,” she said again, “good-night! Good-bye!”
+
+Amazed, thrilled, speechless, Barry found himself on the porch of the
+house, the door closed behind him, darkness, silence and the distant
+lights of the city before him as he stood.
+
+Back of the closed door, again locked and bolted, Mary Bradley resumed
+her preparation for flight. Emotions, whispering and thundering by
+turns, followed each other in quick succession across her mind. Ah,
+but they were right who charged her with having a romantic fondness
+for the minister! It was more than a fondness. It was the one blinding
+passion of her pinched and sunless life, and it mattered little to her
+now who knew it. Time was when she had hoped, in some unknown way,
+in some ideal social state, by means of which she had but a dim and
+dream-driven conception, to gratify her longing. That was when, as a
+modern, scouting law, flouting religion, decrying the social order,
+she had deluded herself with the belief that she had a moral right
+to seek happiness where she could find it. Born in penury, reared to
+toil, trained to godlessness, steeped in a philosophy that taught her
+that love should never be restrained by man-made barriers, she had had
+neither the will nor the conscience to curb or master her imperious
+desire. But now the end had come. The cup from which she would have
+drunk had been struck from her lips. It lay shattered at her feet, the
+red wine spilled and lost. So she must take herself away, out of his
+life. Not that she loved him less, but rather more; and so, loving him
+more, she was ready, for his sake, to sacrifice herself in order that
+reproach might never again fall upon him.
+
+Through half the night, toiling and tempest-driven, she prepared for
+her departure. But when Monday came the desire to linger for yet
+another day overpowered her will, and she yielded. She ate little,
+slept little, talked little, but moved unceasingly about her narrow
+rooms. To the queries and protests and misgivings of her querulous old
+mother she turned, for the most part, a deaf ear. At dusk, on Monday
+evening, as if through some sudden impulse, she put on her hat and coat.
+
+“Where you goin’?” inquired the old woman.
+
+“I don’t know, mother.”
+
+“How long you goin’ to be gone?”
+
+“A few minutes maybe; maybe forever.”
+
+“You talk queer; you act queer. I don’t want you to go out.”
+
+“No harm will come to me, mother.”
+
+“I don’t know about that. You might meet Steve.”
+
+“I’m not afraid of him.”
+
+“And if you meet him he might kill ye.”
+
+“Mother, you’re crazy.”
+
+She bent over and kissed the wrinkled old face, unbolted the door, and
+went out into the night. The full moon was rising. Houses where poverty
+dwelt and desolation reigned were gilded on the east by the softest
+and most beautiful of all lights that ever rest on the dwelling-places
+of men. Westerly the shadows were deep and forbidding. Cloaked and
+veiled, the woman moved alone along the deserted street. Near the foot
+of the hill she reached the lane that led to the foot-bridge across
+the stream above the mill. She turned in at the entrance and came
+presently to the bridge. She stood by the railing and looked out across
+the moonlit roofs of the factory buildings to the twinkling lights of
+the city that lay below her. Her eyes saw them, indeed, but to her mind
+they were invisible. It was on this bridge that she had once felt the
+touch and pressure of his supporting arm. And thereafter life had held
+no dearer hope for her than that she might once again experience such
+exultant joy. The very memory of it was sweeter than stolen waters on
+the lips of youth. After a few minutes she passed on, retracing, street
+after street, the path by which they had come that night. Midway of a
+certain block she paused. It was here that he had met her. But she did
+not turn back. She continued her journey until she reached Ruth Tracy’s
+door. Not that she thought of entering here; she had no desire to do
+that. But it was here that he had found comfort and help in his arduous
+work, and so the very place was precious in her sight. It had never
+occurred to her to be jealous of Ruth Tracy. She had never conceived
+that the rector could stain his soul by falling in love with any other
+woman. But it came into her mind now, suddenly, that if her own desire
+for his love had been fulfilled, he would have proved himself equally
+as weak and wicked as though his affection had been centered on another
+than herself; some woman not his wife. Perhaps his God had saved him
+from debasement. Perhaps her passion for him, even though he should
+know of it, would excite in him only pity and disgust.
+
+She did not tarry at the Tracy house, but turned back at once toward
+the center of the city. The warm, clear night had brought many people
+into the streets. It was not a careless nor a merry crowd. Sober and
+sullen looking men stood listlessly on corners, or strolled aimlessly
+along the pavement. Sad-eyed women, with shawls covering their heads,
+passed by. Children, thinly clad, with soiled faces and stockingless
+feet, gazed hungrily in at the shop windows. She knew many of these
+people by sight and name, but she did not stop to speak to any of them,
+and, heavily veiled as she was, they did not recognize her.
+
+At the corner by the Silver Star saloon she met Stephen Lamar. Hoping
+that he would not recognize her she bowed her head and hurried on. But
+he was not to be deceived nor passed by. He thrust himself across her
+path.
+
+“Wait!” he said; “I want a word with you.”
+
+“I can’t wait,” she replied. “I am in haste. I have an errand to do.”
+
+“You have no errand half so important as is my business with you.”
+
+“But I don’t choose to talk with you.”
+
+She made as if to pass on, but again he blocked her path.
+
+“I know you don’t,” he replied, “but I choose to talk with you, and I’m
+going to do it――now.”
+
+His voice rose at the end, and he moved nearer to her. It was plain
+that he was both angry and determined. It was plain too that he had
+been drinking. His utterance was hoarse and thick, and he slurred an
+occasional word, as half-drunken men do. The controversy attracted the
+attention of people passing by, and they stopped to look and listen.
+She dreaded a scene. It would doubtless be wiser to humor him.
+
+“Very well,” she said. “You may walk with me. I am going toward home.”
+
+“No,” he replied, “I’ll not walk with you. We’ll go in here to the
+Silver Star, and sit down quietly, and have it out alone.”
+
+He took her arm, turned her about, and moved with her to the side door
+of the saloon. She did not demur. So long as he must talk with her it
+might as well be there as elsewhere. They entered, crossed the hall,
+and went into the private room, scene of many conferences between the
+labor leader and Bricky Hoover the workmen’s champion.
+
+An aproned waiter came in and stood at attention.
+
+“Bring a glass of vermouth for this lady,” said Lamar, “and the usual
+whiskey for me; and be quick about it.”
+
+He sat at the table and held his head in his hand, but he did not speak
+to her again until the drinks had been served.
+
+Now that she saw him clearly in the light of the hanging electric lamp,
+she saw that he was changed. His face was gray, haggard and unshaven,
+and when his blood-shot eyes were open they rolled strangely. It was no
+wonder that his appearance gave evidence of the strain and suffering he
+had undergone. He had passed three terrible days and nights since that
+moment when he had seen this woman pillow the blood-stained head of the
+preacher on her breast, and had heard her declare her love for him. He
+had scarcely given a second thought to the fact that his position as
+a labor-leader was in jeopardy if it was not entirely lost; that the
+workingmen who had followed him blindly and confidently in times past
+had now turned upon him, denounced him and repudiated him. But that
+the woman with whom, as the whole city knew, he was desperately in
+love should publicly, shamelessly, in his very presence, declare her
+passionate fondness for this discredited priest, that was more than
+human nature could endure. It roused every bitter, hateful, malignant
+passion of which his heart was capable. He had sought her at her home
+and she had refused to see him. The refusal had made him desperate. So,
+without sleep, without food, torn with jealousy, consumed by rage, his
+brain fired by constant and deep potations, he had waited and watched
+his chance to settle with her. Now he had it.
+
+She did not drink her wine, but he drained his glass of whiskey at a
+gulp. Then he got up and went over and turned the key in the lock of
+the door leading into the hall.
+
+“Steve,” she said, “unlock that door.”
+
+“I don’t want to be interrupted,” he explained. “This is a private
+interview.”
+
+“Unlock that door!”
+
+He looked into her eyes to see how determined she might be, and it was
+evident that he saw. The corners of his mouth twitched in a curious
+smile, but he unlocked the door, and came back and sat down again at
+the table opposite her.
+
+“Now,” she asked, “what is it that you want to say to me?”
+
+“I want to know why you treat me like a dog.”
+
+“Why should I treat you like a man?”
+
+“Because I’ve done a man’s work for you. I brought on this strike
+because you wanted it brought on. When you came and begged me to have
+it called off I moved heaven and earth to carry out your will, but it
+couldn’t be done. It was too late. I told you it was too late. But I
+did my best. And what happened? A riot. A bloody, dirty riot. I blasted
+my own career. These workingmen are through with me. They are cursing
+me to-night for a coward and a traitor. They can go to hell cursing for
+all I care. But as for you, I want pay for what I’ve done for you. Do
+you hear? I want my pay!”
+
+“What kind of pay?”
+
+“I want you.”
+
+“You can’t have me.”
+
+She straightened up in her chair and looked him resolutely in the eyes.
+She saw his lip working but no sound came from them. It was a full
+minute before he regained the use of his voice. Then he asked, calmly
+enough:
+
+“Why can’t I have you?”
+
+“Because I don’t love you. No other reason is necessary.”
+
+“I’ll make you love me; if not to-night, then to-morrow; if not
+to-morrow, then next day. Oh, I can do it. You know I can do it.”
+
+He leaned across the table toward her and continued:
+
+“We’ll go away from here. This is only a pest-hole anyway. We’ll go
+away. We’ll live in luxury. Oh, we can do it. I have enough. These
+fools don’t know it, but I haven’t worked for ’em all these years just
+for the love o’ the thing. There’s been money in it.”
+
+He laughed a little, mechanically, as though at his own shrewdness, and
+again continued:
+
+“So it’s all right. You’ll go. You’ve got to go. I can’t live without
+you. I won’t live without you.”
+
+Again his voice rose excitedly, his mouth twitched, his face took on a
+strange and evil expression. She began to fear him. She decided that
+she must, for her own safety, bring the interview to a close, and do
+it in so peremptory a manner as to silence him. Rising to her feet she
+said:
+
+“It’s only a waste of breath to discuss it, Steve. I cannot and shall
+not do what you wish. I don’t want to see you again nor talk to you
+again. And I don’t want you ever again to come near me. Now, I’m going
+home.”
+
+“Not yet. Just a moment. It happens, for instance, that you’re in love
+with some one else?”
+
+“That is none of your business.”
+
+“By God, it is my business! Oh, I know! I saw you. I heard you, when
+you thought his damned skull was cracked, and you whined over him as
+if he were a sick baby. What right have you got, anyway, to love this
+married priest?”
+
+He was bellowing like a mad beast now; but she did not cower, nor
+tremble, nor show any sign of fear. In the face of danger it was her
+place to be resolute.
+
+“A right,” she answered him, “that requires no permission from you.”
+
+“You don’t deny it, then?”
+
+“I don’t deny it.”
+
+“And you’re not ashamed of it?”
+
+“I’m not ashamed of it. I glory in it.”
+
+He had not risen with her, but he pulled himself, now, unsteadily to
+his feet.
+
+“I’ve got only one answer to make to that,” he said. “You fondle that
+black-coated, white-livered priest just once more, and I’ll send the
+souls of both of you straight to hell.”
+
+“Steve, you coward, what do you mean?”
+
+“Mean? I mean what I say. I’ll have what belongs to me or I’ll kill the
+man that robs me, and the woman that lets him. He had his kisses last
+Friday. I haven’t had mine yet. But I’m going to have ’em――to-night.”
+
+He started toward her, staggering as he went. She backed away from him
+and tried to reach the door, but he blocked her path.
+
+“Let me pass!” she cried. “Don’t you dare to stop me! Don’t you dare to
+lay a finger on me!”
+
+He paid no heed to her command. He lurched forward, even as she spoke,
+and before she could escape him he had seized her and crushed her in
+his arms. She cried out in terror, and tried to free herself, but she
+was helpless. Half-drunken as he was, he seemed, nevertheless, to be
+possessed of maniacal strength. Men in the barroom adjoining heard the
+cry and the struggle, and burst into the room and released her from
+his grasp, and held her assailant while she hurried away. When he saw
+that she was gone he became suddenly calm, self-possessed, genial. He
+showed no resentment toward those who had caught and restrained him.
+He simulated good-nature as shrewdly and cleverly as do the criminal
+insane. His captors, now his companions, lent themselves readily to the
+deception. Now that the incident was closed it was of small moment to
+them. It was not a thing of rare occurrence, anyway, to have the sodden
+hangers-on at the Silver Star aroused by a woman’s scream.
+
+So Steve went out and mingled familiarly with the men at the bar;
+laughed at their questionable jokes about his gallantry, tossed dice
+with them, drank with them, and bade them good-night with as much ease
+and carelessness as though his heart were not a seething whirlpool of
+murderous thought.
+
+As for Mary Bradley, she hastened through the streets toward her home,
+her face burning with anger and humiliation. If she had disliked and
+hated Stephen Lamar before, she loathed him now. Then, suddenly, she
+remembered his threat against her and the rector. What did he mean by
+it? Murder? She paused in her swift pace, overcome by fear. Not fear
+for herself. It mattered little what vengeance he might choose to
+inflict on her. But was the man whom she loved in danger? Would this
+desperate, drink-crazed monster seek to carry out his threat against
+the rector of Christ Church? Was it not her duty to warn the intended
+victim? For one moment she stood irresolute, then she turned in her
+tracks and hastened back toward the center of the city.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XXI
+
+                           THE FINAL TRAGEDY
+
+
+The rectory of Christ Church was a gloomy place that Monday evening.
+The mistress of the house was ill. She had been failing for
+weeks――slowly at first, but with terrible rapidity as the days wore
+on. Now the end was almost in sight. Her interview with Ruth Tracy on
+the Friday afternoon before had left her at the point of collapse.
+Then had followed the news of the riot. After that her husband had
+been brought home, bandaged and bloody, victim of an insensate mob.
+What wonder that she was overwhelmed, physically and mentally, by
+crowding calamities? When the doctor came from her room that Friday
+night he looked grave and doubtful. He had expected the collapse. It
+had been imminent for weeks, but the severity of it startled him. Not
+that there was any organic disease, he explained, but these cases of
+extreme nervous prostration were most difficult to treat. Sedatives had
+only a temporary effect; medicines of any kind would be of but little
+avail. Indeed the only real hope lay in extra-professional treatment,
+particularly along the line of mental suggestion. At best the prognosis
+of the case had little in it that was encouraging.
+
+Ruth Tracy heard of Mrs. Farrar’s serious illness, and sent a trained
+nurse at once to care for her. She felt that this much, at least, it
+was her right and her duty to do.
+
+If Sunday had been a sorrowful day in the rector’s household, Monday
+was deadening. The minister himself, owing to certain secondary results
+of his injury, had been forbidden by his physician to go out. Few
+people had called at the rectory during the day. He had not yet heard
+the scandalous gossip of the town that connected his name with Mary
+Bradley’s.
+
+When evening came he, himself, put his children to bed. He heard
+their pathetic little prayers for their mother. Then he kissed them
+good-night, and went down to his study with wet eyes.
+
+Later on he ascended again to his wife’s chamber. The nurse had gone
+out for the moment, and he drew a chair up by the side of the bed and
+sat there. She saw that he had been weeping. She said:
+
+“Why are your eyes wet, Robert?”
+
+“I have been putting the children to bed,” he replied, “and they were
+praying for you. It touched me.”
+
+“The precious dears! You’ll be very kind to them, and patient with
+them, won’t you, Robert, after I am gone?”
+
+“You’re not going, Alice. Not for many, many years yet.”
+
+“Don’t talk that way, Robert. Please don’t. You know how much better it
+is that I should go now. And when you marry again――――”
+
+“I’m going to marry you again, dear. We’re going to be lovers again,
+just as we were in the old days.”
+
+“But, Robert, I――――”
+
+“Oh, I know. I’ve been thoughtless and inconsiderate. I haven’t
+appreciated you at your worth. But you’ll find me different after this.
+I’ve had some heart-searching days of late.”
+
+“No, Robert, you’ve been very good to me. I’ve often wondered how you
+could have been so good, for I’ve never been able to――to reach you. But
+I have loved you so――and the children――――”
+
+“There, sweetheart, never mind now. Don’t talk any more to-night. Try
+to get a little sleep and rest.”
+
+With tender fingers he pushed back a stray lock of her hair, and she
+reached out and found his hand and held it, and, lying so, with his
+hand clasped in both of hers, she fell asleep.
+
+When the nurse returned he released himself gently from her grasp and
+went back down-stairs. He glanced at the clock in the hall and saw that
+it was after nine. A deskful of neglected work awaited him in his study
+and he felt that he must try to dispose of it. At that moment he heard
+the door-bell ring, and, knowing that the one young and inexperienced
+but inexpensive maid now in their employ was still out, he went,
+himself, to answer it. He found Mary Bradley there. He greeted her
+cordially and ushered her into the parlor, the shades of which had not
+yet been drawn. He turned on the lights and placed a chair for her, for
+he saw, by her face, that she was weary and depressed.
+
+“I had no right to come,” she said breathlessly, “but I wanted――――”
+
+“Yes, you had a right to come,” he interrupted her. “I do not know your
+errand, but I am glad you came. There are some things I want to know
+that I believe you can tell me.”
+
+In her effort to fathom his meaning she forgot her errand.
+
+“What are they?” she inquired.
+
+“Will you tell me this?” he asked. “I have been thinking about it all
+day. You know I have been trying to bring religion into the lives of
+the men and women who work, and you see what a dismal failure I have
+made of it. What has been the matter? Did I go about it in the wrong
+way? You have been a working woman; surely you can tell me.”
+
+“The fault has been theirs, Mr. Farrar, not yours.”
+
+“But what blunder did I commit that these people should repudiate both
+me and my religion? I cannot understand it.”
+
+“You committed no blunder. They simply did not want religion.”
+
+“Why did they not want it?”
+
+“Because it doesn’t promise them good food, and fine clothes, and
+plenty of leisure.”
+
+“But it gives them the promise of an eternity of happiness.”
+
+“Eternity is too far away for them. They want their good things in
+this life. They want to live their lives as they will, to go and come
+as they choose, to be free from rules that bind them, from laws that
+oppress them, from customs that restrain them. I, myself, have taught
+them that that is their right as human beings.”
+
+“And have you taught them wisely?”
+
+“I don’t know. Oh, I don’t know! Who can say what is wise, or right, or
+good? Surely not I; not I!”
+
+She began to wring her hands in apparent self-reproach. She seemed so
+distraught that he pitied her. Her face was expressive of an agony that
+he could but dimly understand.
+
+“God forgive us,” he said, “if we have both been wrong. But you came
+to see me on some special errand. Pardon me for interjecting my own
+troubles. They seem to me to be mountains nigh to-night. Perhaps yours
+are even greater. How can I help you?”
+
+“Oh, I had almost forgotten. I came to warn you. You are in danger.”
+
+“What kind of danger is it now?”
+
+“A man has threatened to kill you.”
+
+“I am not surprised. Some of those whom I have tried to befriend have
+turned against me very bitterly.”
+
+“But this man has a special grievance.”
+
+“Who is he?”
+
+“Stephen Lamar.”
+
+“What is his special grievance?”
+
+“He is――――” She hesitated.
+
+“He is what, Mrs. Bradley?”
+
+“He is jealous of you.”
+
+“On whose account?”
+
+“On mine.”
+
+“Why should he be jealous of me? Is it not Barry Malleson who is
+contending with him for your favor?”
+
+“I have told Barry that he must not think of me again.”
+
+“And are you then so deeply in love with Lamar?” He said it regretfully,
+almost reproachfully. He could not reconcile himself to the thought of a
+union between such a man as Lamar and such a woman as this.
+
+She drew herself up proudly. “No!” she cried. “I am not in love with
+him. I hate him! I despise him!”
+
+He stared at her in astonishment. What new mystery was this? What
+additional catastrophe was impending? In what fresh web of calamity was
+he becoming entangled?
+
+“But why,” he asked, “should Lamar be jealous of me? Why should he want
+to kill me? What have I done to call forth such a feeling on his part?”
+
+“Nothing, Mr. Farrar; nothing; nothing! I have done it all.”
+
+“What have you done?”
+
+“I told him a thing that angered him.”
+
+“What did you tell him?”
+
+She knew, by the look in his eyes, that he would brook no evasion or
+denial of his demand. Nor had she, any longer, any desire either to
+evade or deny. They were only the big things of life that mattered
+now. And this was the big thing, the tremendous thing of her life, and
+something that he had a right to know, and that he ought to know. She
+flung her arms wide as if to unlock her heart and let her secret out.
+
+“I told him that I loved you!” she cried. “I told him that I was not
+ashamed of it! I told him that I gloried in it!”
+
+She looked at the minister defiantly, as though daring him to
+contradict her. Her face was very white, and her hands were clenched
+and moving. He was speechless, astounded. He rose to his feet and
+stared at the woman incredulously. When, at last, he found his voice he
+said:
+
+“But, Mrs. Bradley, it is not true. Why did you say it? It can’t be
+true! It must not be true!”
+
+“Oh, but it is true!” she protested. “It’s the truest thing that ever
+was or will be. And it’s because he knows it’s true that he wants to
+kill you. The coward! The monster!”
+
+Her voice had grown high and shrill. Her eyes flashed with alternate
+hate, devotion and despair. Her whole body was quivering with the
+intensity of her emotion. It was apparent to the rector that a point
+had been reached beyond which both questionings and reproof would be
+not only futile but disastrous. Her imperative need now was to be
+soothed and comforted. He passed around the table to her and laid his
+hand on her shoulder. His touch had quieted others, perhaps it would
+quiet her. His hope was not vain. Under the magic pressure of his hand
+she suddenly found her anger gone, and the tempest in her hot heart
+stilled. A wave of deep contrition swept in upon her, and she sank,
+penitent and sobbing, at his feet.
+
+“Forgive me!” she moaned. “I have been so wicked and so weak, and so
+utterly unjust to you. I shall not trouble you any more. I’m going
+away, where you will never see me nor hear of me again. But,” and she
+lifted her pallid, tear-wet face to his, “it is true, true, true that I
+have loved you.”
+
+Gently, reverently, with white-hearted courtesy, he bent over her, took
+her hands, and lifted her to her feet.
+
+“May our dear Lord look kindly on you,” he said, “and inspire you with
+that love for Him which alone can quiet and satisfy the unruly heart.”
+
+“You are――very good,” she replied; “very good! I will――go――now.”
+
+She released her hands from his and drew them across her eyes as if
+to banish some vision that enthralled her, and turned toward the door.
+But at the first step her physical strength failed her, she tottered
+and would have fallen, so limp and nerveless was she, had he not sprung
+to her side and held her to her feet. Once again, as on that night at
+the bridge, she felt the pressure of his arm about her. It revived her,
+strengthened her, thrilled her through with new and exultant life. So,
+supported and revivified, she moved with him across the room toward the
+hall.
+
+“Thank you!” she said. “It was foolish of me to be faint. But I am very
+strong now. Good-night!”
+
+“No,” he replied, “I cannot let you go alone. You are not fit. Sit here
+and I will call a cab, and I’ll send the nurse to stay with you till it
+comes.”
+
+His will was still her law and she obeyed. So he placed her in a chair
+and hurried away. But, when he was gone, she was seized with a sudden
+desire to escape――before he should return――before others should come
+and find her there――before her courage should utterly fail. She rose,
+hurried down the hall, pushed back the snap-lock of the door which she
+opened and closed behind her, went down the steps to the walk, and
+started to cross the rectory lawn to the street.
+
+A man stepped out from the shadows beneath the parlor bay, gripped her
+shoulder, and swung her around till she faced him. By the light of the
+full moon she saw that it was Stephen Lamar. His eyes were blazing with
+murderous passion. His voice, as he spoke, was thick and hoarse.
+
+“I tracked you here,” he said. “I saw you――through the window. I told
+you――if you did it once more――I’d kill you both. I’m going――to do it.”
+
+Before she could move, or speak, or scream, there came a flash, a
+report, a wisp of curling smoke; she staggered, fell, lay prone on the
+rectory lawn, and there she died.
+
+He turned and went up the steps to the door from which she had just
+emerged, and tried to open it, and found it locked. He threw his weight
+against it, but it would not yield.
+
+Two men, standing at the street-corner, engaged in conversation, heard
+the pistol-shot, and saw the woman as she fell. They ran, and met the
+man as he lurched down the rectory steps. For a moment he held them at
+bay at the point of his revolver. Then he turned the weapon on himself
+and fired two shots in quick succession. He fell plunging to the earth.
+On his sprawling body and distorted face the light of the full moon
+struck. But, where Mary Bradley lay, the shadow of the spire of Christ
+Church rested, like the shadow of the hand of a pitying God.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXII
+
+                       AN EPISCOPAL BENEDICTION
+
+
+The tragedy was now complete. Its climax had been reached when two
+souls were thrust, unshriven, into the Great Presence. The city gasped
+and shuddered, and rioted in the rehearsal of strange and conflicting
+stories. But at the heart of every one of them, tangled in its sordid
+meshes, was the name of the rector of Christ Church. The motive for
+the murder of Mary Bradley was known of all men. If Lamar, dead by
+his own hand, had lived to shout it from the housetops, it could not
+have been better or more widely understood. Yet no one now charged
+the minister with conscious guilt. His life had been too open and too
+clean to make that believable. It was said of him now only that he
+had been the victim of his own deplorable theories and his mistaken
+zeal. But it was plain to every one that the end had been reached. His
+old parishioners, friend and foe alike, admitted and declared that
+his further ministrations at Christ Church had become impossible. He,
+himself, in an hour of forced calmness and deliberate thought, had
+reached the same inevitable conclusion. “Ye shall know them by their
+fruits.” The fruits of his ministry, so far as he could now see, had
+been scandal, riot, bloodshed, murder, suicide, a wrecked and desolated
+church; an unhallowed harvest. And the future held no hope of better
+things.
+
+For three days he wrestled with himself in agony. On the morning of
+the fourth day he boarded a train, bound for the see city, to meet
+a telegraphed appointment with his bishop. Twenty miles out Barry
+Malleson came wandering down the aisle of the car and caught sight of
+him.
+
+“Why, Farrar,” exclaimed Barry, “I didn’t know you were on the train!
+Come into the Pullman with me.”
+
+“No, thank you! I change at the junction, but I’d be glad to have you
+sit with me for a while.”
+
+Barry needed no second invitation. He dropped into the aisle end of the
+seat; but when he had settled himself comfortably he had nothing to
+say. If the rector’s face gave evidence of the shock and strain he had
+undergone, Barry’s countenance and manner were still more indicative of
+the intense suffering he had endured.
+
+“You’re going to New York?” asked the rector, finally.
+
+“Yes. It doesn’t matter much. But that seems to be the obvious place.
+If I get tired of it there I’ll come back in a day or two, and go west.
+I think maybe a taste of ranch life might help some. But I can’t stay
+here. You know, Farrar, that’s impossible.”
+
+“I understand. I too must leave the city. Conditions here make it
+imperative.”
+
+“And where will you go?”
+
+“God knows! I have no plans.”
+
+Barry looked at his companion pityingly. In the midst of his own grief
+he had a heart of sympathy for the defeated and despairing rector. For
+a few moments there was silence between them. Then Barry spoke up again.
+
+“You know, Farrar, this thing has left me in a whirl. I feel as
+though I were still whirling. I try to stop, and get out of it, and
+get my head, but I can’t. There’s so much about it all that I don’t
+understand.”
+
+“I don’t wonder. The whole thing is a terrible mystery.”
+
+“Not that I’m blaming her, you know. I couldn’t do that. She wasn’t
+to blame for anything. Why, do you know, I never even blamed her for
+being fond of you. And of course I didn’t charge it up to you. Nobody
+does, Farrar. You can rest easy on that score. It was just one of those
+things that neither of you could help.”
+
+“Thank you, Barry!”
+
+“And that reminds me. That night when I saw her last――it was last
+Sunday; God in heaven! but it seems a year――well, that night she asked
+me to do her one favor. She said she was going away. She said if you
+ever found out what she said on the factory steps that day of the riot,
+I should tell you that it was true; I should tell you that because she
+loved you she was going to drop out of your life forever――drop out――of
+your life――forever.”
+
+Barry straightened himself out as he sat, thrust his hands into his
+trousers pockets, and stared hard at the back of the seat in front of
+him. Something in the last phrase that had left his lips had set his
+brain to whirling again. The rector laid a comforting hand on his knee.
+
+“You are very kind to tell me this,” he said. “You have a big and
+generous heart, Barry. We can each mourn over her fate, without
+entrenching on the domain of the other.”
+
+Apparently Barry did not hear him. He was still staring at the back of
+the seat, and the muscles of his jaws could be seen moving under the
+pallid skin of his face. But he roused himself, after a moment, and
+said:
+
+“I told her I would; sure I would. And then, Farrar, do you know what
+she did? Do you know?”
+
+“No, Barry.”
+
+“Well――I wouldn’t whisper it to another human being but you, you know
+that, it’s too――sacred.”
+
+His voice choked a little, but he went on:
+
+“Well――she put her arms around my neck――and kissed me.”
+
+He did not give way to tears nor manifest any of the usual signs of
+emotion. But on his face was a look of awe and tenderness, as if some
+holy and wonderful vision had just been revealed to his mortal eyes.
+
+At the junction the rector bade him Godspeed, and left him to continue
+his journey alone. But, somehow, the sight and expression of Barry’s
+dull and simple grief had served to soften the harsh musings with which
+the minister’s own mind was filled.
+
+It was late afternoon when he reached the episcopal residence. A
+rich and pious widow, dying, had made testamentary provision for the
+erection of this beautiful bishop’s home, whereupon disgruntled heirs
+had severed their relations with the Church, and had sought religious
+shelter in another fold.
+
+The rector approached the quaintly fashioned entrance by a path
+bordered with blossoming crocuses and tulips, rioting in a very
+wantonness of color. The sinking sun threw a mellow, yellow light on
+the flowers, on the fresh green of the lawn, on a spreading maple just
+starting into leaf. But the minister saw nothing and realized nothing
+of the peace and beauty that surrounded him. His step was heavy, his
+eyes were dim, his face was the face of one who has witnessed horrors,
+and cannot shut out the sight or memory of them.
+
+The bishop was awaiting him. If he had framed any words of condemnation
+for this priest of his diocese, one look at the man himself drove
+them utterly and forever from his mind. At a glance he read in the
+countenance of the minister a story of suffering, of humiliation, of
+bitter and blinding defeat, that would have made episcopal reproof as
+cruel as it was unnecessary.
+
+He put his arm tenderly about his visitor’s shoulder and led him to a
+chair.
+
+“I know it all, Farrar,” he said. “What I have not heard and read I
+have easily divined. I suffer with you.”
+
+If the rector heard him he paid no heed to his words. He was there on
+his own errand, his message was on his lips, and he must deliver it.
+
+“Bishop, I have come to hand back to you the shattered remnant of a
+sacred trust. I have not been unfaithful to it, but my administration
+of it has been a tragic failure.”
+
+“I know, Farrar. You have been ahead of your generation. You have tried
+to do things for which the world is not ready. That is the reason you
+have failed.”
+
+“That may be so. But it remains true, nevertheless, that I have wrecked
+my church, and have brought discredit on the religion of Christ. I am
+innocent of evil intention, but I am guilty of the actual failure, and
+I stand ready to suffer the penalty.”
+
+“My dear man, do not think too harshly of yourself. You have simply
+tried to do a beautiful and an impossible thing. Disaster was
+inevitable. You thought, as did the beloved of Isaiah, that you had
+planted your vineyard ‘with the choicest vine.’ And you ‘looked that it
+should bring forth grapes, and it brought forth wild grapes.’ It could
+not have done otherwise.”
+
+“Pardon me, Bishop, but that is what I do not yet understand. Why
+should such an unhallowed harvest, unbelief, scandal, riot, murder,
+suicide, follow on the preaching of the simple gospel of Christ?”
+
+“Ah, but it was not the simple gospel of Christ that you preached.
+Christ never concerned Himself with economic problems, nor with the
+reorganization of human society. There are some, I know, who affect
+to admire and reverence Him, who hold, with great show of learning,
+that His message was primarily to the Galilean peasants, and so to all
+whose necks were bowed under the Roman yoke, and so to all the world,
+that men should rise and scatter their oppressors, and establish an
+earthly kingdom of justice and righteousness. These do but pervert His
+teaching, and degrade His gospel. His message was wholly to the soul
+of the individual man that he should turn spiritually from darkness to
+light. And having so turned, it would necessarily follow that man’s
+material environment would undergo a similar beneficent change.”
+
+“But why should not the Church, in order to do her perfect work on
+earth, face the whole life of man, physical, industrial and social, as
+well as spiritual?”
+
+“Because it is not her province to transform the environment of men.
+Jesus Christ sought only to transform the man. He was satisfied to
+have the man deal thereafter with his own environment. Social reform
+is possible only through spiritual renewal. To have a new society we
+must first have new men. When the regeneration of the individual has
+been accomplished, society itself will, perforce, be regenerated, and
+a social organization that will do justice to all men will spring
+automatically into existence. I tried to make this clear to you that
+night at the Tracy house.”
+
+“I know. I have been too impatient to await the spiritual regeneration.
+My heart has gone out to the poor and churchless of my own day who are
+suffering for material and spiritual bread.”
+
+“Your heart does you credit. No servant of Christ should ignore or
+neglect the poor. They were very close to Him in His lifetime. They
+should be special objects of our care in this day. But the mission of
+the Church is not alone to the poor; the message of Christ was to all
+men. You have permitted your passionate sympathy for the poor and the
+oppressed to run away with your judgment, to destroy your sense of
+proportion, to――there, Farrar, forgive me! I did not mean to scold or
+condemn you; it is too late for that. All I want to do to-day is to
+help you if I may.”
+
+“Nor did I come, Bishop, to argue my case anew, nor to plead
+justification for my conduct, nor to make excuses for my failures. I
+came to tell you that my service at Christ Church is at an end. The
+vestry holds my letter of resignation. It remained only for me to make
+acknowledgment to you as my Reverend Father in God, of your kindness,
+and patience, and fatherly solicitude, and to beg your forgiveness, if
+I may, for all that I have said or done that has caused you trouble or
+sorrow, or that has cast discredit on the Church of your love and care.”
+
+“You have my forgiveness without the asking, Farrar. It is true that
+I have deeply deplored the situation in your parish, but I have had
+no resentment toward you, because, while I have believed you to be
+mistaken, I have known you to be utterly conscientious, and loyal.”
+
+“That is true, Bishop.”
+
+“And in that respect you were in very different case from those priests
+who, having lost faith in certain vital points in the principles of our
+religion and the doctrines of our Church, have, nevertheless, insisted
+on remaining with us and preaching heterodoxy from the shelter of our
+pulpits. That, in my judgment, is not only ungrateful and dishonest,
+but borders very close upon downright treason. You, on the other
+hand, in all your aspirations and ambitions, have been faithful to
+the precepts of our religion and the tenets of our Church. For that I
+commend you and rejoice in you.”
+
+“You are very good to me, Bishop.”
+
+“Let me add that I have no doubt of the wisdom and expediency of your
+course in resigning your office as rector of Christ Church. Now then;
+what are your plans?”
+
+“I have none. I have thought nothing out except that I must go away.
+My wife is ill. The burden of these things has been too great for her
+to bear. I do not know how soon she can be moved. But when I told her,
+last night, that we would go elsewhere, the news seemed to give her new
+life. I believe that in some other and distant environment she will
+find her lost health and her old happiness.”
+
+“I pray that it may be so. But you must not leave the ministry of the
+Church, Farrar. We need such men as you. You are still young, but you
+have learned wisdom by sad and bitter experience. You were never better
+prepared to preach Christ’s religion than you are now. And some day you
+will come into your own.”
+
+The rector turned his eyes to the window and looked out across the lawn
+to the Gothic pinnacles of the church on which the glory of the setting
+sun still lay. It was apparent that he was in deep thought, and for a
+moment he did not reply. Then he looked back at the prelate.
+
+“Bishop,” he said, “I think it is your faith in me that has saved me.
+For days I have seen nothing before me but the blackness of the pit. I
+come here, and you, whom I have perhaps wronged most deeply, are most
+ready to forgive me and help me. In my own city I have yielded because
+I have been bludgeoned into it; but you, by your magnanimity――you bring
+me――to my knees――in true repentance.”
+
+He laid his arms on the table and bowed his head on his arms. There was
+no longer any doubt that he was not only broken, but also repentant.
+
+The bishop rose from his chair, crossed over to the penitent priest and
+laid his arm once more affectionately about his shoulders.
+
+“Farrar,” he said, “God bless you! I love you.”
+
+Underneath his hand he felt the broad shoulders tremble. He went on
+comfortingly:
+
+“This is not the end; it is but the beginning. You are going to start
+a new career. I have already for you, in my mind, an outpost of the
+Church, in another diocese, where I believe your great talent and your
+love for neglected men will lead to the establishment of a mighty
+stronghold of our religion.”
+
+The rector sprang to his feet and dashed the tears from his eyes.
+
+“You bring me a message,” he said, “straight from God. An outpost on
+the fighting line will be my delight. Bishop, you have not only saved
+me, you have invigorated and inspired me. How can I show my gratitude?”
+
+“By preaching, hereafter, the simple gospel of Christ as I have
+explained it to you. But enough of this. We have disposed of the case;
+let’s talk of other things. Come and have dinner with me, and we’ll
+discuss the state of the Church at large.”
+
+And, with his arm still resting on the broad shoulders of the rector,
+the wise and big-hearted prelate led his guest from the room.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXIII
+
+                            REHABILITATION
+
+
+To restore the human body to a state of health after the shock of a
+severe illness is a long and tedious task. It is not different with the
+body politic; it is not different with communities, with churches, or
+with business.
+
+April had melted into May, and May had blossomed into June before
+life in the city began to take on its normal aspect. The riot at the
+Malleson mills had been the climax of the labor troubles. It was the
+beginning of the end. The striking workmen and their sympathizers had
+neither the strength nor the courage to make any further demonstration
+of physical force. They were beaten, cowed, utterly disheartened.
+Strike-breakers and non-union workmen passed to and fro along the
+street unmolested, save that now and then the boastful bearing of some
+one of them invited an epithet or a blow. But there was no general
+disorder. The mills had been opened, the wheels were turning, smoke
+belched from the chimneys; but the complement of workmen had not yet
+been obtained. The strike had, indeed, been declared off, but Mr.
+Malleson refused, as he had said he would refuse, to take back any of
+the workmen who had voluntarily left his employ.
+
+Westgate went to him, one day, and, in language which he alone dared
+use to him, pointed out the folly of his course. The mills were not
+being worked to half their capacity. They were being run at an actual
+loss. Business in the city was still stagnant. Some of the workmen had
+gone elsewhere, some of them were engaged in other occupations, many
+of them were still idle. It stood to reason that the old men, who were
+familiar with the plant and the machinery, could do much better and
+more profitable work than men who were new and untried. Indeed, that
+was already the experience of the management. Sound business judgment
+required the reëmployment of the old workmen. All this Westgate told
+the president of the company, and he told him more. He told him that
+the time for stubbornness and resentment had passed. That his men
+were human beings like himself. That he had no moral right to condemn
+them to poverty or chance employment simply to satisfy a grudge. That
+the time had come when charity for the weakness of others should
+be displayed, good feeling restored, and those friendly relations
+between capital and labor, which alone can ensure the prosperity of
+both, should be firmly reëstablished. And Westgate’s counsel finally
+prevailed.
+
+When it became known that Mr. Malleson was willing to let bygones be
+bygones, his old men came back to him, one by one, for he still refused
+to take them in a body, and were given their old places so far as that
+was practicable or possible. But Bricky Hoover did not come back. After
+the riot he had dropped out of sight. What had become of him no one
+knew. His tall and angular figure, crowned by the shock of dull red
+hair, was never again seen on the streets of the city.
+
+Christ Church, too, pulled itself slowly out of the pit into which it
+had fallen. The resignation of the Reverend Robert Bruce Farrar as
+rector of the church was accepted without comment. No member of the
+vestry cared to criticize or condemn him further. So soon as his wife
+was able to travel he had gone away, to some out-of-the-way place in
+the far west it was said, where the calm serenity of Christ Church
+parish would never be disturbed by him again. Yet there were those who
+missed him; “sorrowing most of all ... that they should see his face no
+more.”
+
+In due time the vestry notified the bishop, in accordance with the
+canon, that it proposed to elect, as rector of Christ Church, the
+Reverend Dr. Marbury, a man of good report and of great learning,
+devoted to the godly maintenance of organized religion in pursuance of
+the forms and customs of the Church.
+
+So Dr. Marbury came. He was politic and gracious, kind-hearted and
+wise. Slowly but none the less effectively the breach in the parish was
+healed. The old parishioners came back. The institutions and charities
+of the church were placed once more upon a solid footing. The poor
+were relieved, the sick were visited, the lowly were befriended, the
+stranger was welcomed to the shelter of the church.
+
+One beautiful September Sunday, at the close of the morning service,
+as Ruth Tracy and her mother moved down the aisle chatting with their
+friends and neighbors, Philip Westgate joined them. He had just
+returned from a long business journey in the far west. Mother and
+daughter greeted him pleasantly, and he accompanied them to their car
+waiting for them at the curb.
+
+“Philip,” said Mrs. Tracy, “you’ll come and have luncheon with us
+to-day, won’t you? I want to hear about that wonderful trip. We’ll call
+for your mother on the way up――she always gets away from service ahead
+of me――and we’ll have a nice, comfortable visit.”
+
+He glanced at Ruth’s face, and, although she was looking the other way,
+he saw in it no sign of disapproval.
+
+“Thank you, Mrs. Tracy!” he said. “It is very kind of you. I’m sure
+mother will enjoy it; and it will give me great pleasure to come.”
+
+He handed the elder woman into the car, and turned to Ruth. She was
+still looking away from him.
+
+“Come, Ruth!” said her mother. “The car is waiting. What are you
+mooning about?”
+
+“I was thinking,” replied Ruth; but just there Westgate interrupted her:
+
+“She was thinking,” he suggested, “what a glorious day it would be to
+walk home.”
+
+The girl smiled and turned toward him. “If you mean that for an
+invitation, Philip,” she said, “it’s accepted.”
+
+Mrs. Tracy felt the balmy air sweep her face as she went on alone in
+luxurious flight, while the contemplation of the incident at the curb
+and its possible sequel gave her vastly more comfort and satisfaction
+than had the pious assurances of the Reverend Dr. Marbury in his
+morning sermon.
+
+Both Ruth and Westgate recalled that September morning, a year before,
+when they had walked home together from the church, and discord had
+overtaken them on their way. But neither of them spoke of it. It was a
+thing too long gone by, and an incident that perhaps it were better,
+after all, to forget.
+
+It was in the middle of the second block that Westgate said to her:
+
+“I think I ought to tell you that I saw Mr. Farrar in the west.”
+
+“Indeed?”
+
+Her face paled a little, and her breath came quickly; otherwise she
+manifested no loss of composure.
+
+“Yes. He is settled in a parish in Apollo City. Our bishop made it
+possible for him to go there. I heard that he was there, and being in
+that neighborhood I went over to see him.”
+
+“I hope he is very happy and contented.”
+
+“I never saw a man more absorbed in his work, or more enthusiastic
+about it. You know Apollo City is the center of a great agricultural
+and grazing region. Farmers and stock men come fifty miles in their
+automobiles to church. He has captured them all. It is an extremely
+democratic community, and a democratic church. Why, he tells me that
+the present church building was erected by gifts of an exactly equal
+amount from three hundred subscribers. That gives you an idea of the
+social equality that prevails out there.”
+
+“He must be pleased with that.”
+
+“He is delighted with it. He feels that he has been fitted into his
+proper niche.”
+
+She waited a moment for him to continue his story, but he was silent.
+It was plain that if she would know more she must inquire. She felt
+that she must know more, and she inquired.
+
+“And Mrs. Farrar? What about her?”
+
+“Oh, she is quite herself again. She goes with him everywhere. At the
+time I visited them they had just returned from making a sick-call
+together, twenty-five miles away.”
+
+“That’s splendid! How happy she must be!”
+
+“I think she is, very happy. She looks it, and talks it. She seems to
+feel that she is helping her husband in his work, and that he depends
+on her, and that fact gives her supreme joy.”
+
+“I’m so glad!”
+
+She put her handkerchief to her eyes and brushed away some tears that
+had gathered there. He saw the movement and he became silent. It was
+not his purpose nor his wish to arouse unhappy memories. She divined
+his thought, and, still eager for information, and fearful lest she
+might not receive it, she urged him impulsively.
+
+“But tell me, Philip. Tell me everything. Was he glad to see you? Did
+he inquire about Christ Church? Does he feel bitterly toward us here?”
+
+When he found that she really wanted to know he threw off his reserve.
+
+“I think,” he replied, “that he was very glad to see me, though I took
+him by surprise. He is not a man who harbors resentments, and, now
+that it is all over, I felt that I could not afford to hold any grudge
+against him. That is why I went to see him. I told him so; we got back
+on the old footing, and he opened his heart to me. Yes, he asked after
+all of you back here. And he wanted to know about Christ Church. Do you
+remember how eagerly Philip Nolan, the Man without a Country, drank in,
+on his death bed, the news from home? Well, Mr. Farrar reminded me of
+Nolan. And I told him――I told him everything I knew or could think of.”
+
+“Philip, you’re an angel.”
+
+Again the handkerchief went to her eyes. Westgate, paying no heed to
+her exclamation, hurried on:
+
+“And he has no bitter feeling toward any one. He couldn’t lay up things
+like that. I’ve already told you that he’s not a man who harbors
+resentments. It’s not in his nature. But the memory of what he passed
+through here still haunts him. It always will haunt him. His experience
+was too terrible and tragic to be soon forgotten. Yet he blames no one
+but himself. He says the bishop was almost like a heavenly father to
+him.”
+
+“The bishop is a saint!”
+
+Lest she should make a spectacle of herself on the street, Ruth gave a
+final dab at her eyes, and then resolutely put her handkerchief away.
+
+“Oh,” said Westgate, “I almost forgot to tell you. I saw Barry Malleson
+out there, too.”
+
+“You did? Barry Malleson?”
+
+“Yes, he rode into Apollo City on horseback while I was there. He was
+flannel-shirted, soft-hatted, belted and spurred, in regular cowboy
+style. He had come up from about fifty miles down state with Jim Crane,
+Mrs. Bradley’s brother. Crane has a ranch down there somewhere. You
+know he came east to his sister’s funeral; Barry met him here, and when
+he went out into that country he hunted Crane up. It seems they have
+become great friends. They came up to Apollo City to buy stock, and
+incidentally to call on Mr. Farrar.”
+
+“How lovely! Was Barry glad to see you?”
+
+“Glad! I thought he would never let go my hand. He insisted on my
+coming to visit him. He’s living down at Nogalouche.”
+
+“Where?”
+
+Ruth stopped in her tracks and turned to face her companion.
+
+“At Nogalouche. Why?”
+
+“Philip Westgate! Do you know that that’s where Jane Chichester has
+gone? Her sister told me so yesterday. Do you――do you think she’ll get
+him?”
+
+“Heaven knows! Persistence is a jewel; and the man can’t elude her
+forever.”
+
+“Poor Barry!”
+
+“Why poor Barry? He might go farther and fare worse.”
+
+“Well, I don’t know. I don’t think――but it’s nothing for me to worry
+about, after all.”
+
+“No.”
+
+They walked on in silence for a minute, then Ruth remembered something
+that she wanted to say to him:
+
+“Philip, there’s another thing I want to thank you for. Mrs. Malleson
+told me. She said it was not to be known. I don’t know why she should
+tell me, but she did. It was about how you prevailed upon Mr. Malleson
+to take back the men who had left him, and give them their old places.
+Philip, it was――it was heavenly in you to do that.”
+
+They had reached the Tracy house, and were standing for a moment by the
+newel-post before ascending the steps.
+
+“Yes,” said Westgate; “what with peace in the mills, and peace in the
+church, the storm seems to be about over. There’s only one cloud in the
+sky, and the shadow of that cloud rests on me alone. You can banish it.
+Everything else has been restored to its normal condition; is it not
+time for us to get back on the old footing? I want you. I have always
+wanted you. I have never wanted you so much as I do to-day. Will you
+come back to me?”
+
+She looked up into his face with tear-wet eyes.
+
+“Yes, Philip,” she said; “I will.”
+
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+ Transcriber’s Notes:
+
+ ――Text in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_).
+
+ ――Punctuation and spelling inaccuracies were silently corrected.
+
+ ――Archaic and variable spelling has been preserved.
+
+ ――Variations in hyphenation and compound words have been preserved.
+
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+<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The unhallowed harvest, by Homer Greene</p>
+<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
+most other parts of the world 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 <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you
+are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the
+country where you are located before using this eBook.
+</div>
+
+<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The unhallowed harvest</p>
+<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Homer Greene</p>
+<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: June 12, 2023 [eBook #70967]</p>
+<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p>
+  <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Credits: Donald Cummings and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced from images made available by the HathiTrust Digital Library.)</p>
+<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE UNHALLOWED HARVEST ***</div>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" id="cover_sm">
+  <img src="images/cover_sm.jpg" alt="cover" title="cover">
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p class="noi halftitle">The<br>
+Unhallowed<br>
+Harvest</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h1>The<br>
+Unhallowed<br>
+Harvest</h1>
+
+<p class="p2 noic"><span class="author">By<br>
+HOMER GREENE</span><br>
+<i>Author of “The Lincoln Conscript,”<br>
+“Pickett’s Gap,” etc.</i></p>
+
+<div class="pad2">
+<div class="figcenter" id="logo">
+  <img class="illowe6" src="images/logo.jpg" alt="logo" title="logo">
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="p2 noic">PHILADELPHIA<br>
+<span class="adauthor">GEORGE W. JACOBS &amp; COMPANY</span><br>
+PUBLISHERS</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p class="noic">Copyright, 1917, by<br>
+<span class="smcap">George W. Jacobs &amp; Company</span></p>
+
+<p class="noic"><i>Published March, 1917</i></p>
+
+<p class="p6 noic"><i>All rights reserved</i></p>
+
+<p class="noic">Printed in U. S. A.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="Contents">Contents</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<table>
+<colgroup>
+  <col style="width: 20%;">
+  <col style="width: 70%;">
+  <col style="width: 10%;">
+</colgroup>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdrt">I.</td>
+  <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">An Enforced Verdict</a></td>
+  <td class="tdrb">7</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdrt">II.</td>
+  <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">An Act of Charity</a></td>
+  <td class="tdrb">25</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdrt">III.</td>
+  <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">In the Presence of Death</a></td>
+  <td class="tdrb">41</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdrt">IV.</td>
+  <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">The New Moon</a></td>
+  <td class="tdrb">58</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdrt">V.</td>
+  <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">An Unusual Sermon</a></td>
+  <td class="tdrb">72</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdrt">VI.</td>
+  <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">The Vestry Objects</a></td>
+  <td class="tdrb">86</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdrt">VII.</td>
+  <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">The Rector’s Wife</a></td>
+  <td class="tdrb">99</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdrt">VIII.</td>
+  <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">A Significant Dinner Party</a></td>
+  <td class="tdrb">119</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdrt">IX.</td>
+  <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">The Spirit of Revenge</a></td>
+  <td class="tdrb">142</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdrt">X.</td>
+  <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">A Ministerial Crisis</a></td>
+  <td class="tdrb">162</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdrt">XI.</td>
+  <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">A Romantic Episode</a></td>
+  <td class="tdrb">177</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdrt">XII.</td>
+  <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">The First Calamity</a></td>
+  <td class="tdrb">198</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdrt">XIII.</td>
+  <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">A Case of Mistaken Identity</a></td>
+  <td class="tdrb">220</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdrt">XIV.</td>
+  <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">The Bishop’s Dilemma</a></td>
+  <td class="tdrb">230</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdrt">XV.</td>
+  <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">Love Versus Law</a></td>
+  <td class="tdrb">254</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdrt">XVI.</td>
+  <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">“The Darkness Deepens”</a></td>
+  <td class="tdrb">276</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdrt">XVII.</td>
+  <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">A Hopeless Quest</a></td>
+  <td class="tdrb">295</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdrt">XVIII.</td>
+  <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">A Cruel Surprise</a></td>
+  <td class="tdrb">314</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdrt">XIX.</td>
+  <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">The Storm Breaks</a></td>
+  <td class="tdrb">330</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdrt">XX.</td>
+  <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XX">“Black as the Pit”</a></td>
+  <td class="tdrb">346</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdrt">XXI.</td>
+  <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">The Final Tragedy</a></td>
+  <td class="tdrb">366</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdrt">XXII.</td>
+  <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">An Episcopal Benediction</a></td>
+  <td class="tdrb">374</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="tdrt">XXIII.</td>
+  <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">Rehabilitation</a></td>
+  <td class="tdrb">383</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+
+
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_7"></a>[7]</span></p>
+
+<p class="noi title">The Unhallowed Harvest</p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I<br>
+<small>AN ENFORCED VERDICT</small></h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>The Reverend Robert Bruce Farrar entered the
+Common Pleas court-room and made his way down
+the center aisle to the railing that enclosed the space
+allotted to members of the bar. Had he been an ordinary
+citizen he would have stopped there. But he was
+not an ordinary citizen. Therefore he passed on into
+the railed enclosure to find his seat. He was rector of
+Christ Church; the oldest, wealthiest and most prominent
+religious organization in the city. Yet that fact
+alone would not have given him the distinction he
+enjoyed in this community. He was also an eloquent
+preacher, a profound scholar, a man of attractive and
+vigorous personality. Apparently he was not lacking
+in any of the qualities that make for success in the
+administration of the affairs of a large city parish. He
+had been rector of Christ Church for two years, and his
+worth and ability had been, during that time, abundantly
+proven. Moreover, by reason of his genial and
+sympathetic nature, he had endeared himself to the
+people of the parish, especially to the more humble
+members of his flock. He had, as the saving is, “a
+passion for humanity.” To those who toiled, who were
+in trouble or affliction, his heart went out in unaffected
+sympathy. He gave of his best to encourage, comfort<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_8"></a>[8]</span>
+and relieve them. Indeed, the only criticism made concerning
+him—and that was a suggestion rather than a
+criticism—was that possibly he neglected the souls of
+the rich to care for the bodies of the poor. He was
+deeply interested in problems of social ethics and
+economy, in fact in all problems having to do with the
+general welfare. He was a student of human character
+in all of its phases and manifestations. This it was,
+doubtless, that led him into becoming a frequenter of
+the courts. It was for this reason that the trial of
+causes had for him a strong and unfailing attraction.
+He was fond of looking on at the visible working of
+the machinery of the law. For there are few public
+places where human motives, as disclosed by human
+conduct, are brought more frequently and startlingly
+to the surface than in the court-room. It was a place,
+therefore, where the reverend gentleman was not only
+a frequent, but also a welcome visitor. He had a
+standing invitation to enter the bar enclosure, and to
+occupy a chair among his friends the lawyers. There
+had been occasions, indeed, occasions of great public
+interest, when the presiding judge, who chanced to be
+his senior warden, had had his rector up to sit beside
+him on the bench. But the case on trial this day was
+not an unusual one. It had attracted no particular
+attention, either among lawyers or laymen. Yet the
+rector of Christ Church was deeply interested in it.
+He had attended, so far as he had been able to do so,
+the sessions of the court in which it was being heard.
+It was what is known among lawyers as a negligence
+case. A workman, employed by a large manufacturing
+concern, had been seriously and permanently injured
+while engaged in the performance of the duties of his
+employment. An elevator on which he was riding,
+while making his way from one part of the factory to
+another, had suddenly gone wrong, and had plunged
+down through five stories, to become a heap of wreckage
+at the bottom of the shaft. And out from among<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_9"></a>[9]</span>
+the mass of splintered wood and broken and twisted
+iron and steel, he had been drawn, scarcely less broken
+and twisted and crushed than the inanimate things
+among which he had lain. An action had been
+brought, in his name, against the employing company,
+to compel it to compensate him for his injuries. This
+was the second day of the trial. It was late in the
+afternoon, and the case was drawing to a close. When
+the rector of Christ Church entered the court-room,
+Philip Westgate, for the defense, was making his
+closing argument to the jury. With relentless logic
+he was tearing down the structure which the experienced
+and skillful attorney for the plaintiff had built
+up. Although one of the younger members of a brilliant
+bar, it was freely predicted that the day was not far
+distant when he would be its leader. This thought lay
+distinctly in the mind of Richard Malleson, president
+of the defendant company, as he sat at the counsel’s
+table, and followed, with keen interest and satisfaction,
+the course of the argument.</p>
+
+<p>He was not so witless as to believe that the jury
+would find in favor of his company, in view of the
+strong human appeal that had been made to them, and
+still would be made to them, on behalf of the plaintiff;
+yet his countenance expressed no anxiety, for his lawyer
+had assured him that, regardless of any adverse verdict,
+the case fell within a rule of law that would prevent a
+recovery. So, fair type of the prosperous business man,
+portly, well-dressed, shrewd-eyed, square-jawed, he sat
+contentedly and listened while Westgate whittled away
+his opponent’s case.</p>
+
+<p>The plaintiff also was in court, sitting near by. But
+whether or not he understood what the learned counsel
+for the defense was saying, whether or not he heard his
+voice at all, no one, looking into his face, would have
+been able to discover. He sat there in a wheel-chair, a
+plaid robe covering his palsied and misshapen legs, his
+chin resting heavily on the broad scarf that covered his<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_10"></a>[10]</span>
+breast, his dull, gray face showing neither anxiety nor
+interest as Westgate made havoc of the evidence on
+which his case was built. To all outward appearance,
+though his whole economic future was at stake, he
+neither knew nor cared what was going on about him.
+For two days the rector of Christ Church had watched
+him as he sat there, listless, motionless, looking neither
+to the right nor left, apparently as unconcerned as
+though it were a stranger’s fate with which learned
+counsel were playing battledore and shuttlecock across
+the traverse jury box.</p>
+
+<p>But if the plaintiff was indifferent, his wife, who sat
+by him, was not. She at least was alive and alert.
+Nothing escaped her observation and consideration; no
+point presented by counsel, no ruling made by the court,
+no statement given by witnesses, no expression on the
+faces of jurors, as evidence and argument fell upon their
+ears and sank into their presumably plastic minds. She
+was, apparently, still in her early thirties. She was
+neatly and cheaply clad, as became a workingman’s
+wife. Her figure was well-proportioned and supple, and
+her oval face, lighted with expressive and intelligent
+dark eyes, was strikingly handsome. She was following
+Westgate’s argument with intense but scornful
+interest. That she appreciated its strength and its
+brilliance was apparent; but it was also apparent that
+she was not in the least dismayed. To the clergyman,
+student of human character and emotions, her countenance
+presented a greater attraction than the attraction
+offered by eloquent counsel. He looked at her, wondered
+at her, sympathized with her.</p>
+
+<p>Nor was the rector the only person in the room whose
+attention had been drawn to the woman’s face rather
+than to the eloquence of the speaking lawyer. At the
+clergyman’s side sat Barry Malleson, son of the president
+of the defendant company. He, also, had been
+in constant attendance at the trial. Not that his presence
+was necessary there; but, holding a nominally<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_11"></a>[11]</span>
+important, if not vitally necessary, position with the
+defendant company, he felt, as he expressed it, that he
+should be present to hearten up counsel in the case, and
+to give moral encouragement and protection to his
+father on whom a heavy verdict might fall with peculiar
+severity. With one hand ungloved, toying with his
+cane, he had sat and listened, with apparently deep interest,
+to Westgate’s speech. But whether the lawyer’s
+eloquence or the face of the plaintiff’s wife was the
+greater attraction, it would have been difficult to discover.
+For, while his ears appeared to be attuned to
+the one, his eyes were certainly fixed upon the other,
+and his gaze was one of distinct admiration.</p>
+
+<p>When Westgate concluded his address and took his
+seat, Barry turned to the rector and whispered:</p>
+
+<p>“Great speech, that of Phil’s, wasn’t it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” replied the rector. “From the standpoint of
+clear logic it was faultless.”</p>
+
+<p>“Too bad he couldn’t have had twelve men with
+brains and education to take it in. Trying a case before
+an ordinary jury is more or less of a farce. Really, you
+know, the law ought to be so changed that only men
+of unusual intelligence, men with property interests of
+their own, could sit on a jury.”</p>
+
+<p>The rector smiled. He was well aware of Barry’s
+undemocratic tendencies, and he knew just as well that
+to argue the point with him would be quite futile.
+Nevertheless, he said:</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I don’t know! It seems to me that heart and
+conscience should count for something in the jury box.”</p>
+
+<p>“Ah,” replied Barry, “there’s your mistake. Cases
+should be decided according to law and logic, not
+according to sentiment. Take this case, now. Here’s
+a devilish—I beg your pardon!—an extraordinarily
+handsome woman, of the same general social class as
+most of the jurors. Plaintiff’s wife, you know. She
+goes to the stand and tells a moving tale of hardship
+and suffering. Sits there and turns eloquent eyes from<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_12"></a>[12]</span>
+counsel to witness and from witness to jury. Beauty
+in distress! Stalwart manhood in ruins! How are
+brains and logic going to win out against such a combination,
+before a jury made up of clerks and workingmen?”</p>
+
+<p>“So far as my observation has gone,” replied the
+rector, “I’m inclined to think the ordinary jury deals
+out pretty even-handed justice.”</p>
+
+<p>“Not when there’s a handsome woman in the case.
+Look at her now! By Jupiter! she’s a beauty!”</p>
+
+<p>Barry’s enthusiasm was not unfounded, the plaintiff’s
+wife was in animated conversation with her lawyer
+during the brief interval preceding his address. Evidently
+she was pointing out to him some mistake in
+Westgate’s declarations, or fallacy in his logic. The
+jurors, the lawyers, the spectators in the court-room,
+were watching her, no less than were Barry Malleson and
+the Reverend Mr. Farrar. She was worth watching.</p>
+
+<p>“Crude and uncultured, of course,” added Barry.
+“But, take such a face and figure as that, plus clothes
+and social training—she is already reputed to have
+brains,—and you would have a social queen. Gad!”</p>
+
+<p>He turned his eyes away, as if to rest them for a
+moment on some less fascinating object. The clergyman
+did not seem to consider that his companion’s
+remarks called for any reply from him. People who
+knew Barry as well as Mr. Farrar did seldom took him
+very seriously.</p>
+
+<p>The attorney for the plaintiff rose to make the concluding
+address to the jury. He had not the logical
+grasp of the case that his opponent had displayed, but
+he was more plausibly eloquent. He appealed more to
+the sympathies of the jurors than to their reason. He
+grew fierce in his denunciation of the greed and heartlessness
+of corporations in general, and of this corporation
+in particular. He became dramatic in his vivid
+description of the accident, and tearfully pathetic in
+depicting the future that lay before this man with the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_13"></a>[13]</span>
+crushed body and the clouded mind. He called upon
+the jurors, as men of intelligence and conscience, to
+look to it that domineering wealth should not escape
+its just obligations to one whom it had carelessly
+crippled and cast aside; on whose home rested to-day
+the dark shadows of unspeakable pain and distressing
+poverty.</p>
+
+<p>At the conclusion of his address many men in the
+court-room, including some of the jurors, wiped furtive
+tears from their eyes, and all of the women were openly
+weeping; all save one, the wife of the plaintiff. She
+did not weep. Her glowing dark eyes were tearless
+and triumphant. She looked into the sympathetic
+faces of the jurors and read their verdict there before
+they, themselves, had considered it. She knew that
+her long fight for justice on behalf of her crippled husband
+and herself was approaching its victorious end.
+Why should she weep?</p>
+
+<p>Then Judge Bosworth began his charge to the jury.
+He gave a brief history of the case. He dwelt upon
+some of its more important phases as revealed by the
+evidence. He laid down the general rules of law governing
+this class of cases. He passed upon the requests
+of counsel for instruction to the jury. He said finally:</p>
+
+<p>“Counsel for the defendant company has asked us to
+charge you that ‘under all the evidence in the case the
+verdict of the jury must be for the defendant.’ This is
+correct, and we so charge you; and, in doing so, we
+say that, except in the case of a common carrier, the
+uniform rule is that when recovery is sought on the
+ground of negligence of the defendant, the burden of
+proof is on the plaintiff, and in an action against an
+employer some specific act of negligence must be shown.
+No defect of any kind was shown in the elevator, nor
+was there any evidence which would justify a finding
+that it was unsafe for employees to use. Its falling
+was not shown to have been due to the breach of any
+duty owed by the employer to his employees. With<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_14"></a>[14]</span>
+the friction brake on it the engineer could have controlled
+it, and the only rational conclusion is that, instead
+of doing so, he carelessly let it drop with resultant
+consequences to this plaintiff which are not to be visited
+on the employer. This is one of those regrettable
+industrial accidents for which, in the present state of
+our laws, there appears to be no remedy in the way of
+compensation for injuries received.</p>
+
+<p>“While the plaintiff is not charged with any contributory
+negligence, and while he has our undoubted
+sympathy, we cannot permit him to recover against a
+party that clearly has not been at fault. You will,
+therefore, in the case of John Bradley against the
+Malleson Manufacturing Company, render a verdict in
+favor of the defendant. It will not be necessary for
+you to leave the box. Mr. Gaylord,” to the prothonotary
+of the court, “you will please take the verdict of
+the jury.”</p>
+
+<p>But before the prothonotary could get to his feet,
+Juror No. 7, sitting first in the front row, arose and
+addressed the court.</p>
+
+<p>“Do I understand your Honor to say,” he inquired,
+“that the jury has no right to decide whether or not
+Mr. Bradley is entitled to damages?”</p>
+
+<p>“No right whatever,” replied the judge. “In this
+case the law governs that question, and the law is exclusively
+for the court.”</p>
+
+<p>“But,” persisted the juror, “it seems to me that the
+jury ought to decide, as a matter of fact, whether this
+company is responsible for Mr. Bradley’s injuries.”</p>
+
+<p>The judge responded somewhat tartly:</p>
+
+<p>“We have already explained to you that, in our
+opinion, the plaintiff has not made out a prima facie
+case. If we are in error he has his remedy by appeal.”
+And he gathered up the papers lying in front of him as
+though he had made an end of the matter.</p>
+
+<p>But Juror No. 7 was not yet satisfied.</p>
+
+<p>“It takes time and costs money to appeal,” he said.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_15"></a>[15]</span>
+“If we could give the plaintiff a reasonable verdict
+now it would probably settle the case for good.”</p>
+
+<p>If Judge Bosworth was impatient before, he was
+plainly vexed now, and he replied with some warmth:</p>
+
+<p>“We cannot argue the matter with you nor permit
+you to argue it with us. We have considered the case
+carefully, and have directed a verdict for the defendant.
+We will not accept any other verdict. Our decision
+must stand until it is reversed by a higher court.”</p>
+
+<p>“I meant no disrespect to your Honor,” said Juror
+No. 7, resuming his seat, “and I will of course obey
+the direction of the court; but, in my opinion, great
+injustice is being done.”</p>
+
+<p>Some of the jurors nodded as if in affirmance of that
+opinion. All of them sat, with flushed faces, amazed at
+the temerity of their fellow-juror, wondering what the
+court would do or say next. The court-room was so
+still that the dropping of the proverbial pin could have
+been heard. But Judge Bosworth did not deign to
+reply. He turned again, sharply, to the prothonotary:</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Gaylord,” he said, “take the verdict.”</p>
+
+<p>The prothonotary did as he was bidden:</p>
+
+<p>“Gentlemen of the jury, hearken unto your verdict
+as the court has it recorded. In the case wherein John
+Bradley is plaintiff, and the Malleson Manufacturing
+Company is defendant, you find for the defendant.
+And so say you all?”</p>
+
+<p>The jurors nodded their heads. The Bradley case
+was at an end.</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Duncan,” said the judge to the court crier,
+“you may adjourn court until ten o’clock to-morrow
+morning.”</p>
+
+<p>The aged crier arose and droned out:</p>
+
+<p>“Hear ye! Hear ye! Hear ye! The several
+courts are now adjourned till to-morrow morning at
+ten o’clock.”</p>
+
+<p>It was not until then that Barry Malleson fairly recovered
+his breath. He and the rector had both arisen.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_16"></a>[16]</span>
+“Did you ever hear of each a thing?” he asked. “The
+impertinence of the fellow! To stand there and criticize
+the honorable judge to his face! Why, he should
+have been fined for contempt of court, and imprisoned
+as well, without benefit of clergy too—no pun intended.”</p>
+
+<p>“And none charged,” replied the rector. “I’m not
+sure, though, but that the man was more than half
+right.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, Mr. Farrar!” exclaimed Barry; “my dear
+sir! If juries were permitted to take the law into
+their own hands, what would become of our republican
+institutions? Where would be our guarantees of law
+and order? The next step in advancing civilization,
+sir, will be the complete abolition of the entire jury
+system.”</p>
+
+<p>“Along with the obsolete form of democratic government,
+I suppose,” laughed the rector.</p>
+
+<p>“I am not prepared at this moment,” replied Barry,
+“to go to that extreme; but incidents of unblushing
+presumption, such as we have just witnessed, make one
+feel that some kind of a curb must be put on the lower
+and less intelligent classes, or they will become actually
+tyrannical.”</p>
+
+<p>In the meantime the judge had left the bench. The
+court-room audience was shuffling noisily out. The
+jurors, who had just rendered their enforced verdict,
+found their hats, and all except No. 7 strolled down
+the aisle by twos and threes discussing the sudden ending
+of the case. The lawyer for the plaintiff gathered
+up his books and papers, thrust them into his green
+bag, and then stopped to consult with the plaintiff’s
+wife. Westgate and his client strolled across the bar
+enclosure to where Barry and the rector were standing.</p>
+
+<p>“Congratulations, old boy!” said Barry to the lawyer.
+“You did a fine piece of work!”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh,” replied Westgate carelessly, “the case was
+easy. The law was all on our side.” He turned to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_17"></a>[17]</span>
+the rector. “We are always glad to see you in court,
+Mr. Farrar.”</p>
+
+<p>“The court-room is an extremely interesting place,”
+replied the clergyman.</p>
+
+<p>“More interesting than profitable, if one is a litigant,”
+remarked Mr. Malleson. “I suppose, when the
+millennium comes, there will be no more litigation,
+Mr. Farrar?”</p>
+
+<p>“No,” replied the clergyman. “The voice of the
+lawyer will no longer be heard in the land, and we
+shall have a thousand years of peace.”</p>
+
+<p>Barry laughed, but the others only smiled.</p>
+
+<p>“That’s one on me,” said Westgate. “Are you going
+our way, Mr. Farrar? Will you come along with
+us?”</p>
+
+<p>“No,” replied the clergyman, “thank you! I want
+to stop and speak to Mrs. Bradley. A little consolation
+might not come amiss. She must be suffering
+severely from disappointment.”</p>
+
+<p>“Good idea!” broke in Barry. “The woman is
+certainly to be pitied. No doubt she’s the victim of
+bad advice. I’ve a great mind to stop and talk to her
+myself, and explain the law to her, and the attitude of
+our company in the matter. It may be that she’s entirely
+ignorant and innocent.”</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t fool yourself, Barry,” said Westgate. “She’s
+no weakling. I know. She may possibly accept condolence
+from Mr. Farrar, but I’m mighty certain she
+won’t accept it from you.”</p>
+
+<p>“There’s no harm in trying, is there?” persisted
+Barry. “It would be extremely interesting and informing
+to hear the woman talk.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Malleson turned to his son.</p>
+
+<p>“You let Mrs. Bradley alone,” he said. “When she
+comes to her senses about this thing, and dismisses her
+shyster lawyer, we may do something for her; not as
+a matter of right, but as a matter of grace.”</p>
+
+<p>“Certainly!” replied Barry, “as a matter of grace.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_18"></a>[18]</span>
+That’s the only ground on which any of these people
+are entitled to help from any of us.”</p>
+
+<p>In obedience to his father’s injunction he refrained
+from approaching Mrs. Bradley. Nevertheless he cast
+a longing eye in her direction and then, with apparent
+reluctance, followed his father and Westgate from the
+court-room.</p>
+
+<p>But the rector of Christ Church remained. This
+tragedy in law had stirred him deeply. From his
+broad, humanitarian point of view, while the letter of
+the law had doubtless been upheld, justice, at the same
+time, had been mocked. He had not said so to defendant’s
+counsel, nor to the president of the defendant
+company. He had not cared to get into a controversy
+with them. But he realized, as perhaps no other spectator
+in the court-room had realized, how sharply and
+bitterly this unexpected termination of her year’s
+struggle for justice had fallen on the soul of the
+woman who had borne the burden of the fight. His
+quick sympathy went out to her. The desire to comfort
+her if possible, to help her if he could, was strong
+within him.</p>
+
+<p>Not that her disappointment was especially manifest.
+She did not shrink, nor grow pale, nor weep,
+when she heard the charge of the court which virtually
+sentenced her to a life of unrelieved poverty and toil.
+She did not, even now, as she stood talking quietly
+with counsel, look like one who had just toppled from
+the pinnacle of hope to the pit of despair. Yet that
+she had done so there could be no doubt.</p>
+
+<p>As her lawyer turned away, both the rector and
+Juror No. 7 approached her. She turned her back on
+the rector, and held out her hand to the juror, smiling
+on him as she did so.</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know you by name,” she said, “but I want
+to thank you for having the courage of your convictions.
+I’m told it’s not often a juror dares do what
+you’ve done to-day.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_19"></a>[19]</span></p>
+
+<p>The man was a little abashed as he replied:</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, that’s all right! I don’t mind saying what I
+think to anybody. I wish I could have done something
+for you, though. I wish the jury could have got
+a chance at that case.”</p>
+
+<p>“So do I. But the judge couldn’t afford to let you
+get a chance at it. He knew what you’d do with it.
+His rich friends would have been displeased. It was
+their money that elected him, wasn’t it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I don’t know about that. I guess he was
+elected fair enough. But, to my way of thinking,
+when it comes to doing justice, as between man and
+man, or man and corporation, twelve men are better
+able to decide than one, and if the law’s different from
+that, then the law ought to be changed.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh,” she said, “it doesn’t matter much about the
+law, nor about what anybody’s idea of justice is; the
+important thing is that the rich must stay rich, and
+the poor must stay poor. It’s the business of the
+lawyers and the judges to see that it’s done. That’s
+what they’re paid for. It would have set a bad
+example to the poor for my husband to have won his
+case. Some other poverty-stricken wretch might have
+tried by law to get a little of the justice that’s due
+him. They’ve won their point, but maybe they’ve
+made a mistake, after all. Maybe Richard Malleson
+has sowed the wind. I believe he has. Not that
+John Bradley will ever be able to resent what’s been
+done to him, but I will, and, as God lives, I’ll do it!”</p>
+
+<p>The clergyman, standing near by, could not see her
+face; but her words came distinctly to his ears. Her
+voice rose slightly toward the end, but it was not so
+much its pitch as its expression of fierce determination
+that moved and startled him. The juror, too, seemed
+to be somewhat awed by the woman’s intensity, and
+waited a moment before answering her. Finally he
+said:</p>
+
+<p>“I ain’t so sure as you seem to be that the rich, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_20"></a>[20]</span>
+those in power, are trying to keep the rest of us under
+their heels; but I am sure that justice hasn’t been done
+in your case, and if things like this keep on happening
+in our courts, something is going to drop in this country
+some day.”</p>
+
+<p>“I believe you,” she replied; “and when it does
+drop, I pray that the first man it hits will be the one
+who is responsible for—this.”</p>
+
+<p>She turned, with a slight gesture, toward the unobserving
+and apparently unthinking clod in the wheel-chair.
+Her face, visible now to the rector, with its
+flowing eyes and parted lips, was a picture of subdued
+but vindictive anger.</p>
+
+<p>Apparently the juror thought it time to bring the
+conversation to an end, for he said:</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I must be going. I just stopped to say I
+was sorry for you, and to say if I could help you any
+way I’d be glad to. My name is Samuel Major. I’m
+a wagon-maker. My shop is around on Mill Street.”</p>
+
+<p>He held out his hand to her and she took it.</p>
+
+<p>“Thank you,” she said, “for your sympathy and
+kindness, and for your interference in our behalf. It
+didn’t amount to anything, of course; it couldn’t.
+But it showed where you stood, and that’s what we
+want, nowadays, men who think, and who are not
+afraid to say what they think. Good-bye!”</p>
+
+<p>“Good-bye!”</p>
+
+<p>He hurried away, but turned back again to ask:</p>
+
+<p>“Are you going to take the case up to a higher
+court? or haven’t you decided about that yet?”</p>
+
+<p>“I have decided,” she replied. “I shall not take it
+up. I’m done with law and lawyers, and trying to get
+justice through the courts. Hereafter I’ll get it in my
+own way.”</p>
+
+<p>It was not until the juror mentioned his name that
+the clergyman recognized him as an occasional attendant
+on the services at Christ Church. He had no
+pew nor sitting; but his children went to the Sunday-school,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_21"></a>[21]</span>
+and the rector had called once or twice at the
+house, finding only the mother at home. So, as the
+man started toward the aisle, the clergyman intercepted
+him and shook hands with him.</p>
+
+<p>“I, also,” he said, “want to thank you for your
+conscientious courage, and for your sympathy with
+these disappointed people. I’ve been waiting to condole
+with Mrs. Bradley myself, although I am a
+stranger to her.”</p>
+
+<p>“You’ll find her pretty bitter.”</p>
+
+<p>“So much the more need for sympathy.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, it won’t come amiss. She’s been hard hit,
+and it isn’t right.”</p>
+
+<p>“I believe you. That’s one of the problems that
+you and I, together with the rest of the American
+people, have got to thresh out sooner or later: how
+to right social wrongs without creating social calamities.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I think you’re giving us some pretty good
+advice along that line. I’ve been once or twice to
+hear you preach lately, and it seems to me you’re on
+the right track.”</p>
+
+<p>“I hope so. Come again.”</p>
+
+<p>“Thank you! I intend to.”</p>
+
+<p>The man went on down the aisle, and the rector
+walked back toward Mrs. Bradley. She had, in the
+meantime, been busying herself about her husband,
+buttoning his coat, putting his hat on his head, making
+him ready for the desolate journey home. The clergyman
+approached her.</p>
+
+<p>“I am Mr. Farrar,” he said, “rector of Christ
+Church.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” she replied quietly, “I know who you are.”</p>
+
+<p>“I have been deeply stirred by this case of yours.
+I want to give you my sympathy, and to talk with
+you about your husband and yourself.”</p>
+
+<p>“Thank you! I have no time to talk now. I must
+hurry home.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_22"></a>[22]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Pardon me! I’ll not keep you. But I’ll call on
+you, if I may, at your leisure.”</p>
+
+<p>“I shall have no leisure.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then at your convenience.”</p>
+
+<p>“It will not be convenient.”</p>
+
+<p>It was strange that the woman who had so eloquently
+poured her grievance into the ears of the
+friendly juror should have become so suddenly taciturn
+and unapproachable. The clergyman could not
+understand it. But it was his business, as a servant
+of Christ, to break down barriers that separated him
+from human hearts, so he persisted.</p>
+
+<p>“Surely,” he said, “you will not refuse to see me.
+I understand your disappointment. I realize your
+suffering. I may be able to comfort you, possibly to
+help you. Give me the opportunity to try.”</p>
+
+<p>She straightened up then, and faced him.</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t want to be rude to you,” she replied. “I
+have nothing against you. I’ve heard that you are
+well-intentioned toward men and women who work.
+But I have little use for preachers. They are hired
+by the rich, they associate with the rich, they are
+under the control of the rich. They have nothing in
+common with the class to which I belong, therefore
+they cannot help us. I am sure you can do no good,
+either to my husband or to me. I’d rather you
+wouldn’t come.”</p>
+
+<p>She turned again to her husband and began to tuck
+in the plaid robe that covered his lap. The clergyman
+stood, startled and speechless. This was the first time
+in his life that he had been arraigned in this manner.
+After a moment, however, he gathered his thoughts
+sufficiently to say:</p>
+
+<p>“I think you misjudge us, Mrs. Bradley. I know
+you misjudge me. It is my effort to do the Master’s
+will among all His people, rich or poor, humble or
+exalted.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, that’s what they all say. But they do discriminate,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_23"></a>[23]</span>
+and I don’t see how they can help it, and
+hold their jobs. No, I’d rather you wouldn’t come. I
+don’t want to see you.”</p>
+
+<p>“I hope this is not your final answer.”</p>
+
+<p>“It is my final answer.”</p>
+
+<p>But the tone of her voice was not unkind as she said
+it, and in her eyes there was no look of hostility.</p>
+
+<p>“Nevertheless,” he replied, “I shall not lose sight of
+you. I shall keep you in mind, and—I shall pray for
+you.”</p>
+
+<p>She laughed a little at that.</p>
+
+<p>“You’d only waste your breath,” she said. “John
+Bradley knows little about prayers, and I care less. If
+you want to be really kind to us you will simply let us
+alone and forget us.”</p>
+
+<p>“I want to be really kind to you, Mrs. Bradley;
+therefore I cannot forget you; but I will respect
+your wish and will not trouble you, unless Providence
+should put it in my way to render you a Service which
+you will not resent.”</p>
+
+<p>She took his proffered hand, but said nothing more
+to him. And when he had bidden good-bye to the unresponsive
+paralytic in the wheel-chair, he turned and
+left the court-room.</p>
+
+<p>A tipstaff came up to help get John Bradley to the
+street. Through all the excitement of the closing hours
+of the trial the position of his body had not changed,
+nor had the expressionless stare of his eyes. There
+had been no indication in his face that he realized, in
+any degree, the importance of the litigation of which
+he was the center, nor its sudden and disastrous termination.
+Speechless, emotionless, unheeding and unlovely,
+he had sat the case through from the beginning
+with apparently no conception of its meaning or its
+outcome.</p>
+
+<p>The tipstaff rolled the wheel-chair, with its human
+freight, down the aisle and into the hall, followed by
+Mary Bradley.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_24"></a>[24]</span></p>
+
+<p>A janitor came into the room to sweep up the litter
+on the floor, and, as he swept, he hummed a plaintive
+ditty that had long been favored of him:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent0">“John Jifkins, he to court would go;</div>
+    <div class="verse indent5">Listen to the tale I tell!</div>
+    <div class="verse indent1">His story it was full of woe;</div>
+    <div class="verse indent1">His lawers fought, but the judge said no,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent1">That Jifkins hadn’t a ghost of a show,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent5">And it ended there. Ah well!</div>
+    <div class="verse indent11">Heigh-ho!</div>
+    <div class="verse indent5">Jingle the court-house bell.”</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p>The janitor finished his song and his task and departed.
+Silence fell on the big room, and the shadows of the
+waning day crept in and took, each one, its
+accustomed place. Darkness came, and, under its cover,
+ghosts of old and unnumbered tragedies, enacted through
+the years within the confines of the four gray walls,
+came out to stride back and forth across the wide
+spaces, up and down the enclosure for the bar, and in
+and out among the vacant chairs of the jury box; to
+ascend even to the sacred precinct of the bench, and
+stand grimly behind the chair from which white-robed
+Justice, with her bandaged eyes and well-poised scales,
+was supposed to listen to the cry of all who sought her
+aid.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_25"></a>[25]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II<br>
+<small>AN ACT OF CHARITY</small></h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>The rector of Christ Church did keep in mind, as he
+had said he would, the disappointed litigant in the
+Bradley case. He thought of her often. The picture
+of her crippled and mindless husband as he sat in his
+wheel-chair in the court-room, staring blankly into
+space, came not infrequently before his eyes. Nor did
+he, in any service in which he read the prayer, “For a
+Person under Affliction,” forget, while reading it, those
+two, who had in very truth been visited with trouble
+and distress. But he respected the woman’s wish. He
+did not call upon her, he did not seek, in any way, to
+cross her path. It is true that he made some inquiry
+concerning her, and learned something of her condition,
+of her grievance against society, and of her personal
+history. But of this last there was not much to learn.
+She had been a laborer’s daughter; she had become a
+laborer’s wife. She had lost her only child by death.
+She was now supporting her crippled husband and herself
+by the labor of her hands. She had moved, with
+limited activities, in a narrow world. It was not an
+unusual story. The only circumstance that lifted it
+out of the commonplace was the fact of the woman’s
+exceptional beauty. It was true, also, that she was
+possessed of unusual mentality, and an education much
+better than that possessed by the wife of the average
+day-laborer, and these things set her somewhat apart
+from the other women of her social class. In all other
+respects there was nothing to distinguish her from
+them, many of whom, indeed, worked harder, and
+suffered more severe privations, than did she.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_26"></a>[26]</span></p>
+
+<p>Yet the rector of Christ Church would not have been
+able, had he tried, to dismiss her and her affairs from
+his mind. One reason for this was that the Bradley
+case had aroused public interest, and had excited general
+comment.</p>
+
+<p>It had formed the basis for a new attack on the
+courts. Labor and socialistic organizations had passed
+resolutions concerning it. Sensational newspapers had
+criticized sharply the action of Judge Bosworth in
+giving binding instructions to the jury. Shallow-minded
+controversialists had argued hotly, pro and
+con, concerning the powers of the courts under the
+state and federal constitutions. Indeed the case bade
+fair to become a <i lang="fr">cause celebre</i>, not only in professional
+circles, but throughout the entire community. Mary
+Bradley’s face and figure had not before been unknown
+in the streets of the city. She was too beautiful
+to pass unnoticed, even in the cheap and modest
+costume of a laborer’s wife. But in these days she
+seldom went beyond the confines of Factory Hill, the
+district in which she lived, that she did not become an object
+of notice and a subject of comment, both on account
+of her beauty and of her relation to the Bradley case.</p>
+
+<p>Another reason why the woman had not passed out
+of the rector’s mind was that, since the trial, she had
+been twice to the services at Christ Church. She had
+occupied an inconspicuous seat, far in the rear, but,
+looking out over his congregation, his sharp eye had
+caught sight of her, and her presence there had brought
+him a peculiar sense of satisfaction. She had, on both
+occasions, escaped before he had had an opportunity
+to greet her, and he did not consider that the fact of
+her presence there warranted any intrusion on her by
+him at her home.</p>
+
+<p>The Reverend Mr. Farrar was not the only one who
+had noticed Mrs. Bradley at church. Many in his congregation
+had noted her presence, and had commented
+on it. On one occasion one of the church-wardens,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_27"></a>[27]</span>
+who had stationed himself in the vestibule, spoke to
+her pleasantly as she passed out; but she barely noticed
+him, and he did not repeat his effort to extend to her
+the church’s welcome. Barry Malleson was among
+those who had seen her at church, and who was interested
+in her presence there. Not that Barry was concerned
+about her religious welfare, nor in the fact that
+her attendance added one more to the already large
+congregations. Religion and the propaganda of the
+Church had for him, as he himself said, “only an
+academic interest.” He attended the morning services
+because it was the thing for a gentleman to do; because
+the members of his family were devout worshipers
+there; and because the best and most exclusive
+people in the city, the people with whom he associated,
+were regular attendants.</p>
+
+<p>It was not only at the church that he saw Mrs.
+Bradley; he came upon her now and then on the street.
+And each additional time that he saw her the fact of
+her remarkable beauty became more deeply impressed
+upon his not unimpressionable mind. He could not
+forget her. She appeared to him frequently when she
+was not within the range of his physical vision. Her
+countenance, her figure, her bearing and expression, the
+look in her wonderful eyes, had become familiar to
+him, though he had seen her only casually, and less
+than a dozen times. It was not a case of romantic
+attraction, for, although Barry was five and thirty, unmarried
+and unattached, the woman had a husband,
+such as he was, and Barry, despite his weaknesses, was
+clean-minded and sincere. He had had many affairs of
+the heart in his time; he had flitted from flower to
+flower; he had, after a way peculiarly his own, suggested
+marriage to more than one of the belles of the
+city, but none of those to whom he had thus spoken
+had taken him seriously; and from each romantic mishap
+he had made rapid and complete recovery. Perhaps
+Ruth Tracy had been the one most desired by<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_28"></a>[28]</span>
+him. She was handsome, brilliant, sympathetic, of
+aristocratic family, fitted to grace any man’s home;
+moreover she was the superlative choice of his mother
+and sisters. But, whenever he approached the topic of
+matrimony, she parried his advances, complimented
+him on his good looks, his faultless attire, and his
+manly bearing. She never said anything about his
+mental capacity. And then, suddenly, along came Phil
+Westgate, and, out from under his very eyes, captured
+the prize and bound her in golden chains of betrothal.</p>
+
+<p>So Barry was free, heart-whole, ready for the next
+romantic adventure. If Mrs. Bradley had also been
+free and heart-whole things might possibly have been
+different; but, as it was, he gave strict obedience to his
+father’s injunction, issued in the court-room on a memorable
+day, and “let Mrs. Bradley alone.” For, whatever
+else he was, Barry Malleson was a gentleman.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>The Reverend Robert Farrar was seated at his breakfast-table
+one September morning, a month after the
+trial, reading his morning paper. His three young
+children had already breakfasted, and the two older
+of them had been bundled off to school. His wife,
+sitting opposite to him, was still nibbling at her toast
+and sipping her coffee. In an obscure corner of the
+newspaper his eye fell upon a notice of the death of
+John Bradley. He had died from heart-failure, at the
+age of thirty-eight years. “He will be remembered,”
+the article concluded, “as the unsuccessful litigant in
+the celebrated case of Bradley vs. The Malleson Manufacturing
+Company.”</p>
+
+<p>“I must go to her!” exclaimed Mr. Farrar, laying
+down his paper.</p>
+
+<p>“Go to whom?” was the not unnatural inquiry of
+his wife.</p>
+
+<p>“To Mrs. Bradley. I see here that her husband died
+yesterday afternoon. I believe his death lifts the bar of
+her prohibition, and opens the way to her conscience.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_29"></a>[29]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Is she the woman who refused to let you call on
+her after she had had the lawsuit?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, but I believe she will have a different mind
+toward me now. This last affliction, if it may be
+called such, should make her not only willing to see
+me, but should also make her susceptible to religious
+influence.”</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Farrar said nothing, but the look on her face
+indicated that it was still her belief, as it had been
+from the start, that a woman who would refuse to permit
+Mr. Farrar to call on her for purposes of pious
+consolation was quite outside the bounds of susceptibility
+to any religious influence, exerted under any conditions.
+She had great admiration, not only for her
+husband’s intellectual force, but for his personal charm
+and persuasive power as well. She loved him, she believed
+in him, she trusted him implicitly; but she did
+not fully understand him. He trod in paths where she
+had neither the learning nor the ability to follow him;
+neither the mental nor the physical strength to share in
+the largeness of his thought, or in the intense application
+of that thought to the problems of his pastoral
+work. The most that she could do, and that she did
+faithfully, was to be a good wife and mother, to devote
+her spare time to the interests of the Church, and to
+find mild relaxation in the society of those people who,
+by reason of her birth and breeding, as well as of her
+position, welcomed her to their exclusive circles.</p>
+
+<p>“I wish,” said the clergyman, expressing the continuation
+of his thought, “that I might make an opportunity
+for you to call on Mrs. Bradley. I believe that
+in her present misfortune she might be willing to accept
+the ministrations of a good woman of the Church.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, dear. I will call on her if you wish it. Only
+I don’t see how I could possibly have any influence on
+a woman who doesn’t believe in the power of prayer.
+It seems so shocking to me.”</p>
+
+<p>“I know. It is shocking. But I hope we shall find<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_30"></a>[30]</span>
+her now in a better frame of mind. I am told that she
+is a very superior woman, and I am anxious to get her
+into the Church. If you could only manage to approach
+her on some sort of social level. I believe that the
+trouble with all of us Church people, the reason why
+we don’t reach people of the humbler kind, is that we
+don’t make our social plane broad enough to take them
+in. We assume too much superiority. They don’t like
+it, and I can’t blame them. When we bring ourselves
+to meeting them on terms of social equality we shall
+get them to share with us our religious blessings, and
+I’m afraid not before.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, dear.”</p>
+
+<p>She felt that the conversation was already drifting
+beyond her easy comprehension, and that the only thing
+for her to do was to acquiesce. Yet, notwithstanding
+her respect for her husband’s social theories, the depths
+of which she was never quite able to comprehend, she
+could not help a feeling of revolt at the idea of associating,
+on terms of equality, with people of the cruder if
+not the baser sort, with such a person, for instance, as
+Mary Bradley, who ignored religion, and who had
+flouted the rector of Christ Church.</p>
+
+<p>“And you know,” added the rector, “she has been
+twice lately to our morning services.”</p>
+
+<p>“I know, but that doesn’t necessarily make her congenial.
+Do you really mean, Robert, that we should
+treat these people—a person like Mrs. Bradley, for instance,—exactly
+as our equals?”</p>
+
+<p>“Certainly! Why not? Christ was no respecter of
+persons.”</p>
+
+<p>“I know. And their husbands? And their children
+the same as our own? Should I, for instance, let Grace
+and Robbie play freely with the children on the street
+back of the rectory?”</p>
+
+<p>“Those children are entitled to the benefit of the
+culture and good breeding of our own, and they can
+learn these things only by association.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_31"></a>[31]</span></p>
+
+<p>“But, Robert, dear, suppose our children should learn
+things from them that do not belong to culture and
+good breeding. As an example, Robbie came home the
+other day with an awful word, and when I asked him
+where he had got it, he said he had learned it from the
+McBreen boy on the back street.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then,” said the rector, with an air of finality, “you
+should have seen the McBreen boy, and explained to
+him the naughtiness of the word, and requested him not
+to use it.”</p>
+
+<p>“So I did, and he replied that he had learned it from
+his father, and if his father had a right to use it he had,
+and he’d like to see any stuck-up preacher’s wife stop
+him.”</p>
+
+<p>The rector laughed a little, and rose from the table.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, well,” he said, “the principle holds good anyway.
+But we must apply it with judgment. We can
+spoil the best of our precepts by putting them into injudicious
+practice. And you always reach the end of
+an argument, Alice, by the <i lang="la">ad absurdum</i> route.”</p>
+
+<p>He looked at his watch and added:</p>
+
+<p>“I think I’ll go up to Mrs. Bradley’s this morning.
+My afternoon is full, and the sooner the call is made
+the better.”</p>
+
+<p>But when he was ready to start, and had actually
+gotten to the hall-door, his wife called him back.</p>
+
+<p>“Robert, dear,” she said, “don’t you think Ruth
+Tracy could do much better than I on that visit to
+Mrs. Bradley? I don’t want to shirk any of the parish
+work, really I don’t; but she is so much better adapted
+than I am to—to that sort of thing, you know; and
+she is so heartily in accord with your views on social
+equality and all that.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, perhaps; we’ll see. Don’t let it bother you.
+Maybe we’ll not get the opportunity to visit her anyway.
+I am only hoping that we shall.”</p>
+
+<p>But he could not help thinking, as he went down the
+steps and out to the street, how much more effectively<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_32"></a>[32]</span>
+his parish work could be done, especially his work
+among the poor, if only his wife were possessed of
+greater zeal, of greater ability, of greater sympathy
+with the unfortunate and with those on whom the hand
+of adversity had fallen heavily. And, in logical sequence,
+his thought went on to consider what an ideal
+helpmate for a clergyman Ruth Tracy would be. She,
+indeed, had not only intellect and skill, not only the
+ability to manage successfully the social affairs of a
+parish, not only a pious zeal for the work of the Church,
+but also a broad sympathy for those who were in any
+kind of distress, and a charming personality that drew
+to her, irresistibly, all classes of people. Yet she was
+to marry a layman, Philip Westgate the lawyer, a vestryman
+of Christ Church, active in its business affairs;
+but a non-communicant, who, apparently, had never
+been impressed with the necessity of subscribing to the
+creed, or of identifying himself, religiously, with the
+Church. It was a comforting thought to the rector,
+however, that in the event of Miss Tracy’s marriage he
+would not necessarily lose her valued assistance as a
+helper in the parish work.</p>
+
+<p>Still, it was a pity that she was not to become a minister’s
+wife. And with this thought fresh in his mind,
+as he turned the corner into Main Street, he ran plump
+into Westgate himself. The two men were going in
+the same direction and they walked on together.</p>
+
+<p>“I see,” said the rector, “that John Bradley, against
+whom you obtained a verdict last month, died yesterday.
+I am going up to call on his widow.”</p>
+
+<p>“Indeed!” was the reply. “I hadn’t heard of it; but
+I’m not surprised. I was not aware, though, that the
+Bradleys were in any way connected with the parish.”</p>
+
+<p>“They are not. They are not affiliated with any religious
+organization, so far as I can learn. That is one
+reason why I am going up there.”</p>
+
+<p>Westgate looked at the rector a little doubtfully, but
+made no reply.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_33"></a>[33]</span></p>
+
+<p>“I have seen Mrs. Bradley at our services once or
+twice of late,” added the clergyman, “and it occurred
+to me that it might be an opportune time to tender to
+her the good offices of the Church. It may also well
+be that she is in need of material help.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s possible. It’s unfortunate that she didn’t
+accept Mr. Malleson’s offer at the time of the accident.”</p>
+
+<p>“What was his offer? I hadn’t heard of it.”</p>
+
+<p>“I presume not. Few people have. It’s popular to
+exploit the heartlessness of corporations, but there are
+not many who are willing to mention their deeds of
+generosity. Why, Mr. Malleson offered to pay all doctor’s
+bills made or to be made in connection with Bradley’s
+injury, and to make them a gift of fifteen hundred
+dollars besides. I considered that to be a very liberal
+offer, inasmuch as the company was not legally bound
+to pay them a penny.”</p>
+
+<p>“And Mrs. Bradley rejected it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, she turned it down flat, and took up with
+Sheldrake—you know what kind of a lawyer he is—and
+Sheldrake brought suit for twenty-five thousand dollars
+damages—and lost his case, as I knew he would.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why did Mrs. Bradley refuse your proposition?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, in the first place, because she didn’t consider
+the amount large enough; but principally because we
+offered it as a gratuity. She would have no gifts. We
+must acknowledge an obligation, and make our payment
+on that account, or she would have nothing to do with
+us. That’s the trouble with many of these people;
+they are too independent. They have no sense of proportion.
+They don’t appreciate their true relation to
+society. They quarrel with their bread and butter
+when it comes to them as a benevolence, and they refuse
+charity on the ground that they should receive
+help as a matter of right and not as a matter of grace.”</p>
+
+<p>“I am not sure but that they are right, Westgate.
+A man is a man regardless of the accident of birth or<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_34"></a>[34]</span>
+wealth; and society owes to him something besides and
+better than charity. There is a feeling among the
+laboring classes that they are not getting their fair
+share of the wealth which they help to produce; and
+that, if they did get it, charity, as it is now known,
+would become obsolete. There would be no occasion
+for its exercise. I believe that they are more than half
+justified in that feeling. I can’t blame them for refusing
+to accept as a gift that which they should have
+as a right. I am becoming convinced that if the Kingdom
+of Christ is ever to come on this earth it will only
+be when social and economic equality obtains among
+all men.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, that’s socialism, Mr. Farrar. That’s socialism
+pure and simple. I haven’t time to discuss that subject
+with you this morning. You see we’re here at my
+office building already. But come up to dinner some
+evening. Bring Mrs. Farrar with you. Mother is
+especially fond of Mrs. Farrar—and we’ll thresh the
+thing out. I’m prepared to demolish the doctrines of
+every socialist from Karl Marx to John Spargo.”</p>
+
+<p>“Good! I’ll come. I’ll bring Mrs. Farrar. I anticipate
+an evening of real enjoyment.”</p>
+
+<p>The two men shook hands and separated. But before
+the rector had gone two steps he turned and called to
+Westgate.</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t want you to misunderstand me,” he said,
+when they again met, “not even temporarily. While
+there are many things in the socialist propaganda that
+appeal to me strongly, I do not swallow it <i>in toto</i>. I
+do not go much farther than the acceptance of the
+theory of social and economic equality of which I spoke.
+And there are some doctrines advocated by socialist
+leaders and writers with which I am entirely at variance.”</p>
+
+<p>“How about the theory that the marriage tie should
+be freely dissolved at the will of the parties?” asked
+Westgate.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_35"></a>[35]</span></p>
+
+<p>“That theory is abhorrent to me,” replied the minister.
+“I stand squarely with my Church on all matters
+relating to marriage; as I do on all other matters concerning
+which the Church has made any pronouncement.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s comforting, at least,” replied Westgate,
+smiling. “I suppose, however, that you accept the
+Marxian theory of surplus values?”</p>
+
+<p>“I believe the principle is sound.”</p>
+
+<p>“And the economic interpretation of history?”</p>
+
+<p>“No. I am not ready to assent fully to that doctrine.
+It approaches too closely to the border of materialism
+to suit me. It is possible, however, that I do not completely
+understand it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I believe, when we have gone over the whole
+subject, that we shall find ourselves in accord on many
+things. It’s a fascinating theme, but neither of us has
+time to discuss it at length this morning. There is
+something, however, that I’ve been wanting to say to
+you for a long while, and it comes in here so exceedingly
+apropos that I’m greatly tempted to say it now.”</p>
+
+<p>“Do so, by all means.”</p>
+
+<p>“Thank you! I suppose it’s somewhat presumptuous
+for me, a non-communicant, even to appear to criticize
+the minister; but your sermons, especially of late, have
+seemed to some of us to savor of an attack on wealth;
+and you know that isn’t a particularly popular attitude
+for you to assume toward the congregation to which
+you preach.”</p>
+
+<p>“Not an attack on wealth, Mr. Westgate, but on
+the prevailing methods of the use and distribution of
+wealth.”</p>
+
+<p>“It amounts to the same thing.”</p>
+
+<p>“By no means! I shall try to convince you when
+we have that discussion. I don’t think you understand
+the real meaning of the gospel which I am trying to
+preach. It is not a gospel of destruction, but of regeneration.
+And in my judgment the hearts of the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_36"></a>[36]</span>
+rich need regenerating as much as do the consciences of
+the poor.”</p>
+
+<p>“And I don’t think you understand the real meaning
+of the suggestion which I am trying to give you. You
+may call it a warning if you choose. It is not offered
+by way of criticism or complaint. The point is simply
+this: that you have a good many rich men in your church,
+and they give freely toward its support. You cannot
+afford to antagonize them unnecessarily.”</p>
+
+<p>“I know what you mean, and I appreciate the point
+you make. It is not a new one to me. I have considered
+it many times. I have thought the thing out
+carefully and prayerfully, and I have determined to
+preach the gospel of Christ as I think He would preach
+it if He were on earth to-day. I can do no less and
+square myself with my own conscience.”</p>
+
+<p>“But a clergyman should be politic as well as conscientious.
+I remember that the apostles were instructed
+to be ‘wise as serpents’ as well as ‘harmless as doves.’
+Well, we can’t settle it on the street corner, that’s sure.
+We’ll have to broaden our discussion to take in this
+branch of the subject, and occupy two evenings with it
+instead of one. So come soon!”</p>
+
+<p>They again separated, but it was Westgate this time
+who called the clergyman back.</p>
+
+<p>“By the way,” he said, “you are going up to see
+Mrs. Bradley?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, if you should find her in distress, economical
+distress, I mean, I am very sure that Mr. Malleson
+would be glad to contribute something toward her relief—two
+or three hundred dollars maybe; enough to
+pay funeral expenses and a little over. He harbors no
+resentment against her on account of the suit. He lays
+all that up against Sheldrake. Indeed, if the woman
+is suffering for necessaries, I should be glad to make a
+modest contribution myself.”</p>
+
+<p>“Thank you! I’ll find out. But the impression that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_37"></a>[37]</span>
+I have of her is that she would be more likely to resent
+than to accept any gratuity from either Mr. Malleson
+or you. Nevertheless, I will keep your offer in mind,
+and I will present it to her if it should appear to be
+desirable to do so.”</p>
+
+<p>“Thank you!”</p>
+
+<p>The rector again turned away, but he did not get to
+Factory Hill that morning. Before he had gone two
+blocks from Westgate’s office a parishioner came hurrying
+after him and besought him to go to see a sick girl
+living in another suburb of the city, a girl who felt that
+she could not close her eyes to the scenes of earth until
+she had bared her soul to the rector of Christ Church.
+So he went to her.</p>
+
+<p>The Reverend Mr. Farrar was not the only one who
+discovered in the morning paper a notice of John
+Bradley’s death. Barry Malleson came upon it accidentally,
+as he came upon most other things of any
+moment, and it at once aroused his deep interest. He
+was at his desk in the president’s office at the factory,
+where he could be found practically every working day
+during office hours. His name appeared in the list of
+officers of the Malleson Manufacturing Company as
+vice-president. Some one said that it did no harm,
+and it tickled Barry’s vanity. His salary was quite
+satisfactory. His duties were not accurately defined,
+although they appeared to consist largely in obeying
+the president’s will, as a matter of fact, and of sustaining
+the burden of the conduct of the company’s affairs
+as a matter of personal belief. His father would have
+found it difficult to get along without him. He would
+have found it impossible to get along without his father.
+That Barry had his uses there can be no possible doubt.
+He was replete with suggestion, and that his suggestions
+were rarely acted upon never deterred nor
+discouraged him. He had a suggestion to make this
+morning in connection with John Bradley’s death. It
+came into his mind simultaneously with the reading of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_38"></a>[38]</span>
+the death notice. He turned toward the man sitting
+at the desk across the room.</p>
+
+<p>“Father,” he said, “the time has come when we
+should do something for Mrs. Bradley.”</p>
+
+<p>The president of the Malleson Manufacturing Company
+did not look up from the work on which he was
+engaged, but he replied with a question:</p>
+
+<p>“How’s that?”</p>
+
+<p>“Her husband died yesterday.”</p>
+
+<p>“Whose husband?”</p>
+
+<p>“Mrs. Bradley’s. The man against whom we won
+the suit. I shouldn’t wonder if she might be financially
+embarrassed. It would be a fine opportunity to
+show that there is at least one corporation that has a
+soul.”</p>
+
+<p>The president was looking up from his papers now;
+hard-eyed, square-jawed, smooth-shaven, immaculate.</p>
+
+<p>“We have no right to give away our stockholders’
+money,” he said shortly.</p>
+
+<p>“I know, father; but this is a case where we can
+afford to overstep the limits a little and be generous.
+Personally, and as vice-president of the company, I
+would recommend that a small gratuity be given to the
+woman on account of her husband’s death. We have
+done as much when other employees have died.”</p>
+
+<p>“But the others did not bring suit against us.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, she has no suit pending against us now. She
+refused to let Sheldrake take the case up to a higher
+court, or even to move for a new trial. I understand
+she told him she never wanted to see his face again.
+And Westgate said the other day that it was too late
+for her to do anything more, even if she should change
+her mind about it.”</p>
+
+<p>The president mused for a moment before replying.
+Finally he said:</p>
+
+<p>“As the woman seems to have come to her senses,
+and is probably in need, I suppose we might do as we
+have done in other cases. I never laid the blame for<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_39"></a>[39]</span>
+the suit on her, anyway. It was that ambulance-chaser
+of a lawyer that put her up to it.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s very true, father. What shall we give
+her?”</p>
+
+<p>“Let’s see! What did we give McAndrew’s widow
+when he died?”</p>
+
+<p>“Two hundred and fifty dollars. I know because I
+took the check to her myself, and she was so grateful
+she tried to kiss me. Gad!”</p>
+
+<p>Barry felt cold shivers running over him now as he
+recalled his narrow escape from the proposed osculatory
+embrace of the unattractive and slatternly but grateful
+widow of the deceased workingman.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Malleson’s eyes twinkled mischievously.</p>
+
+<p>“I remember the circumstance,” he said, and added:
+“Perhaps Mrs. Bradley will be similarly grateful.”</p>
+
+<p>Barry leaned back in his chair and thrust his hands
+into his pockets.</p>
+
+<p>“Well,” he said, contemplatively, and in all seriousness,
+“I would think twice before declining a favor of
+that kind from Mrs. Bradley. She’s a remarkably
+attractive woman.”</p>
+
+<p>The president did not dwell further on the subject.
+It may have been because of its incongruity; it may
+have been because of some undefined feeling of foreboding
+that crossed his mind at that moment.</p>
+
+<p>“You may ask Page,” he said, “to draw her a check
+for two hundred and fifty dollars. Tell him to run it
+through the expense account, and to put in the voucher
+a statement that it is received by Mrs. Bradley as a
+gratuity from this company.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, sir.”</p>
+
+<p>Barry rose with unusual alacrity, but before he
+reached the door his father called to him:</p>
+
+<p>“A—Barry! Suppose you tell Page to make that
+four hundred instead of two fifty. There have been
+special hardships in this case, and the woman is undoubtedly
+capable of using the money judiciously.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_40"></a>[40]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Yes, father. I, myself, was just about to recommend
+four hundred dollars. I think she can put the
+money to good use.”</p>
+
+<p>A little later Barry returned to the president’s room
+with Page, the treasurer, who brought with him a check
+and a voucher, both of which he handed to Mr. Malleson.
+The president examined the voucher carefully, signed
+the check, and handed the papers back to Page.</p>
+
+<p>“Shall I send a special messenger up with them?”
+asked the treasurer.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll take them to her myself,” said Barry promptly.</p>
+
+<p>Page turned to him with a smile.</p>
+
+<p>“Hunting for a repetition of that experience with
+the Widow McAndrew, are you?” he asked.</p>
+
+<p>Barry’s experience with the Widow McAndrew was
+one of the standing jokes among the office force of the
+company.</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t mention it,” said Barry. “It gives me a
+chill now to think of it. You know I’m rather fastidious,
+Page, rather fastidious. And the woman
+wasn’t what you might call personally neat, and she’d
+been crying, and her hair wasn’t combed, and she certainly
+weighed not less than two hundred—no discoverable
+waist-line, you know; and when I saw her bearing
+down on me——”</p>
+
+<p>The two men passed out of the room and closed the
+door behind them, Barry continuing with the relation
+of his oft-repeated story of the Widow McAndrew’s
+gratitude.</p>
+
+<p>In the meantime the president of the company had
+plunged again into the work on his desk. But when
+the door closed on Barry and Page he looked up, laid
+down his pen, rose and walked over to one of the windows
+and stood for many minutes looking out into the
+plaza on which his factory buildings fronted, and up the
+narrow street that led toward the heart of the city.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_41"></a>[41]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III<br>
+<small>IN THE PRESENCE OF DEATH</small></h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>It was not until the afternoon of the day that he met
+Westgate on the street that the Reverend Mr. Farrar
+was able to go to Factory Hill. It was a suburban
+residence district, tenanted mostly by day-laborers and
+their families. It lay about two miles from the center
+of the city, on an elevated plateau overlooking the
+plant of the Malleson Manufacturing Company. The
+houses in the neighborhood were all small and unpretentious,
+and some of them were shabby and ill-kept.
+But the house that Mary Bradley occupied, small as it
+was, gave evidence of being well cared for by its tenant.
+The rector had no difficulty in finding it. Every one
+about there knew where Mrs. Bradley lived. He
+knocked at the crape-decorated door, and the mistress
+of the house, herself, opened it. When she saw who
+was standing there her face clouded. A visit from a
+clergyman was neither expected nor desired. But she
+felt that she could not afford to be remiss in hospitality,
+even to an unwelcome guest. So she invited him
+to come in. It was the living-room that he entered.
+From behind a closed door to the rear subdued sounds
+proceeded as though some one were working in the
+kitchen. Beyond another door, half opened, the rector
+caught a glimpse of a prone human body, covered over
+with a sheet. Otherwise Mary Bradley was alone.
+She made no pretense of being glad to see her visitor,
+but she set a chair for him, and waited until he should
+disclose his errand. And, now that he was here, he
+was at a loss to know just what he should say. He
+felt that this woman would resent any formal expression<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_42"></a>[42]</span>
+of sympathy, any meaningless platitudes, any pious
+attempt at consolation. So he compromised with his
+true errand by inquiring into the particulars of John
+Bradley’s death. There was not much for her to tell.
+He had failed, steadily, since the time of the trial. On
+the afternoon before, his heart had refused to perform
+its proper function, and all was soon over. She told it
+very briefly and concisely.</p>
+
+<p>“And the funeral, Mrs. Bradley?”</p>
+
+<p>“It will be to-morrow afternoon.”</p>
+
+<p>The rector thought it possible that she might ask
+him to come and read at least a prayer; but she made
+no suggestion of the kind. He attempted to draw her
+into conversation concerning herself, but she was reticent.
+She was not discourteous, but she was totally
+unresponsive. Finally, failing to approach the subject
+by degrees, he said to her abruptly:</p>
+
+<p>“I owe you an apology for coming here after you
+had declined to receive me; but I felt that, under
+changed conditions, a visit from me might not be
+wholly unwelcome. So I have run the risk of trespassing
+on your forbearance.”</p>
+
+<p>She made no reply, and he went on:</p>
+
+<p>“I have thought very often of you, and,” with a
+glance in the direction of the half-opened door, “of
+your unfortunate husband. I have many times wanted
+to give you such comfort as I could, such consolation
+as the Church offers to those in distress.”</p>
+
+<p>“Thank you!” she replied; “but I have stood in no
+particular need of comfort; and I’m very sure the
+Church has nothing to offer me, in the way of consolation,
+that would be of the slightest benefit to me.”</p>
+
+<p>This was not very encouraging, but the rector of
+Christ Church was not easily dismayed.</p>
+
+<p>“Even so,” he said, “you might still wish, or might
+be willing, to have me, as a minister, take part in the
+funeral service. I should esteem it a privilege to do
+that, with your permission.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_43"></a>[43]</span></p>
+
+<p>“No,” she replied, “I can’t permit it. I appreciate
+your offer, but I don’t care to have the Church interested
+in my husband’s funeral.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why not, Mrs. Bradley?”</p>
+
+<p>She looked at him steadily for a moment before
+replying. Then she answered his question by asking
+another.</p>
+
+<p>“What did the Church ever do for John Bradley in
+his lifetime that it should concern itself now about the
+burial of his body?”</p>
+
+<p>He, too, paused for a moment before replying. Then
+he said:</p>
+
+<p>“The Church did all for John Bradley that he would
+permit her to do. Her doors were always open to him.
+She urged him, in countless ways, to partake of the consolations
+of religion under her auspices and protection.
+I, as a minister of Christ, may have been remiss in the
+performance of my duty; doubtless I have been, but
+the Church has never been derelict in the performance
+of hers, and she remains always the same.”</p>
+
+<p>She hastened to defend him against himself.</p>
+
+<p>“You haven’t been remiss,” she declared. “You’ve
+done what you’ve considered your duty as far as you’ve
+been permitted to do it. I’ve nothing against you.
+You’re better than your Church. I’ve heard other
+people say that. I’ve been once or twice to hear you
+preach. I may go again. I like what you say. But
+I’ve no use for the Church. I judge the Church by
+the people who support it and manage it. And I don’t
+care for the people who support and manage your
+church and sit in most of the pews.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why not, Mrs. Bradley?”</p>
+
+<p>“Because they are rich and look down on us. They
+hire us and pay us our wages; they dole out a little
+charity when we are in hard luck, but they would consider
+it a disgrace to associate with us on any kind of
+terms of equality. They don’t regard us as human
+beings with the same right that they have to live comfortably<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_44"></a>[44]</span>
+and be happy. If their religion teaches them
+that, if their Church permits it, I don’t want any of
+their religion, nor anything to do with their Church.”</p>
+
+<p>If he had succeeded in nothing else, he had at least
+succeeded in drawing her out, and in leading her to give
+expression to her grievance. But she had attacked the
+Church in a vulnerable spot, and it was his duty as a
+priest to defend the institution and its people.</p>
+
+<p>“I believe,” he said, “that you unwittingly do the
+men and women of Christ Church an injustice. There
+are many of them who are rich, it is true. But there
+are many of these who have warm hearts and a keen
+sense of human justice. You know there are such
+persons as Christian capitalists.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I know. There,” pointing to the body in the
+next room, “lies one of their victims. John Bradley
+was killed by Christian capitalists.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mrs. Bradley, you are severe and unjust.”</p>
+
+<p>“Am I? Let me tell you.” She did not resent his
+reproof. She was perfectly calm; she was even smiling.
+But she wanted now to be heard. “Two years
+ago my husband worked in the Brookside factory, two
+miles down the river. You know the place. The
+company rented all the houses to its men. We had to
+take what they gave us; a miserable, dilapidated shack
+on the edge of a stagnant pond. My little girl took
+sick and pined away and the doctor said we ought not
+to keep her in such a place. When we thought she
+would die my husband went to the manager of the mills—he’s
+a shining light in the Church; not your church,
+but that doesn’t matter—and begged him, for the sake
+of the child, to give us a better house to live in. He
+told my husband that if he was not satisfied with the
+house the company had provided for him he was at
+liberty to quit his job; that his place could be filled in
+three hours’ time. Well, John did quit his job, and
+found work here at the Malleson. But it was too late—to
+save—my baby’s life.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_45"></a>[45]</span></p>
+
+<p>She paused, and a mist came over her eyes. For a
+moment the imperishable mother-love dominated her
+soul and silenced her tongue.</p>
+
+<p>“That was very sad,” said the rector.</p>
+
+<p>She repeated his words. “That was very sad.”
+After a moment she continued: “They gave John a
+good enough place at the Malleson, as good wages as
+any skilled workman gets; they drove him and bullied
+him as they do all of his kind—you know they are
+mere slaves, these factory workmen—and one day they
+put him into a cage, and some one there dropped him
+into a pit. When they took him out—well, he might
+better have been dead. You know; you saw him.
+Mr. Malleson sent a messenger to me with a paltry sum.
+I must accept it, not as compensation, but as a gift.
+And I must release all claims for damages. Naturally,
+I refused. I employed an attorney to bring suit and
+get what was justly due us. Mr. Malleson, he’s a pillar
+in your church, fought our claim with every weapon at
+his command. Mr. Westgate, his lawyer, a member of
+your vestry, set all of his wits to work to deprive us of
+our rights. But we would have won out against all of
+them if it hadn’t been that the judge on the bench, also
+a member, I believe, of your vestry, refused at the last
+minute to let the jury pass upon the case, and decided
+it himself, in favor of the Mallesons. I’m not a
+lawyer; I don’t know how it was done; perhaps you
+do. I only know that it was cruel and horribly unjust.
+Mr. Farrar, do you wonder that with these shining examples
+of your religion before me, and with two dead
+victims of your Christian capitalists to mourn over, I
+am not falling over myself in my haste to get into your
+Church?”</p>
+
+<p>She turned her piercing eyes away from the minister’s
+face, to let them rest for a moment on the rigid,
+sheet-covered figure lying in the next room. Her
+cheeks were aglow, her breast was heaving, she had
+spoken from the fulness of a bitter heart. And the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_46"></a>[46]</span>
+rector of Christ Church could not answer her. She
+used a kind of concrete logic that he was not prepared
+at that moment to refute. The best he could do was
+to try to postpone the issue.</p>
+
+<p>“I shall not argue this out with you to-day,” he said.
+“I feel that you are entirely wrong in your estimate of
+religion and the Church, and some day, when the
+severity of your affliction has passed, I want to come
+again and talk with you. In the meantime will you
+not reconsider your refusal to recognize the Church in
+the matter of the burial of your husband?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why should I reconsider it? The Church has
+never recognized me. It never recognized John Bradley.
+Doling out charity is not recognition; inviting
+the poor to come and sit in the rear pews of your church
+is not recognition. Oh, I tell you, Mr. Farrar, I don’t
+want charity from your Church people, nor sympathy,
+nor a chance to crowd in to your services; what I want
+is plain human justice, with a right to live comfortably
+and be decent and happy. And when they begin to
+give that to me, I’ll begin to have some regard for
+their Church.”</p>
+
+<p>It was entirely plain to the rector that he could accomplish
+no religious purpose with this woman at this
+time, and he rose to go.</p>
+
+<p>“I am sorry,” he said, “for I really wanted to help
+you. I hope you believe that at any rate.”</p>
+
+<p>She rose in her turn. “I believe it,” she said.</p>
+
+<p>“And that my Master in heaven has compassion on
+you.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll believe that when He repudiates the conduct
+toward me of most of His followers here.”</p>
+
+<p>It was her parting shot. He did not reply to it,
+but he held out his hand to bid her good-bye. She
+took it with no reluctance.</p>
+
+<p>“Please understand,” she said, “that my grievance
+is not against you personally. I believe you are good
+and conscientious.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_47"></a>[47]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Thank you!”</p>
+
+<p>The hum of an automobile came in to them from the
+street. The car had evidently stopped in front of Mrs.
+Bradley’s premises. The next minute a knock was
+heard at her door. She went and opened it. Barry
+Malleson stood there, smiling.</p>
+
+<p>“Mrs. Bradley, I believe?” he said.</p>
+
+<p>“I am Mrs. Bradley.”</p>
+
+<p>“And I am Barry Malleson, vice-president of the
+Malleson Manufacturing Company.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes?”</p>
+
+<p>She stood in the doorway and he stood on the step.
+The door opened directly into the sitting-room where
+the Reverend Mr. Farrar was standing, ready to leave
+the house. Mrs. Bradley made no move, nor did she
+invite the vice-president of the Malleson Manufacturing
+Company to enter. He stood for a moment, expectantly,
+and then asked:</p>
+
+<p>“May I come in, Mrs. Bradley? I am here on an
+important errand.”</p>
+
+<p>“Certainly!” she moved aside, and he entered. His
+eyes fell upon the rector.</p>
+
+<p>“Why, Farrar!” he exclaimed, “this is certainly a
+surprise; I may say a most agreeable surprise.”</p>
+
+<p>“Thank you!” replied the minister. “I have been
+making a call of condolence on Mrs. Bradley. I am
+just going.”</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t go on my account. In fact I’d rather you
+would stay. I want you to hear what a soulless corporation
+is going to do for a destitute widow.”</p>
+
+<p>It occurred to the rector that he had forgotten to inquire
+concerning Mrs. Bradley’s physical needs, or to
+sound her on Westgate’s generous proposition. It was
+evident that Barry was about to relieve him so far as
+any tender of charity was concerned; but he had no
+mind to stay and hear the vice-president of the Malleson
+Manufacturing Company blunder tactlessly through
+an offer that was certain to be resented and refused.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_48"></a>[48]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Thank you!” he said, “but I have important matters
+to attend to in the city, and, with Mrs. Bradley’s
+permission, I will go.”</p>
+
+<p>She had stood there listening, a suspicion of a smile
+shaping itself on the full and perfectly curved lips, a
+peculiar gleam in her dark eyes over which the lids
+were now partly drooping. She turned to the rector.</p>
+
+<p>“I’d rather you would stay,” she said. “I, also,
+want you to hear what this gentleman has to say.”</p>
+
+<p>“If you wish it, certainly!” He placed a chair for
+her, and they all seated themselves.</p>
+
+<p>“That’s very kind of you, Farrar, I’m sure,” said
+Barry. He removed his gloves, and drew a long envelope
+from an inner pocket of his coat. Holding the
+envelope in his hand he continued:</p>
+
+<p>“I have here, Mrs. Bradley, an evidence of the
+generosity and good will toward you of the Malleson
+Manufacturing Company of which I have the honor to
+be vice-president. The company recognizes the fact
+that at the time of the injuries which resulted in his
+death, your husband was in the employ of our company,
+and that through no fault of ours, and I presume
+I may safely say, through no fault of his, the accident
+happened which——”</p>
+
+<p>Barry suddenly stopped. He had caught sight, for
+the first time, of the sheeted and recumbent figure in
+the adjoining room. From a child he had had an unreasoning
+fear of dead bodies, and a dread of all the
+physical conditions and changes which the passing of
+life implies. The vision of death which confronted
+him stopped his flow of speech, and sent to the roots of
+his hair that chilly creepiness that strikes into the flesh
+when things dreaded and feared are suddenly seen.
+His wide eyes were fixed on the repellent object in the
+next room, and it was apparent that he was powerless
+to turn them away, for he said to the rector without
+looking at him:</p>
+
+<p>“A—Farrar, would you mind closing that door?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_49"></a>[49]</span></p>
+
+<p>But the widow herself arose and went to the door
+and closed it tightly. When she resumed her seat, the
+smile on her lips was a trifle more pronounced, and the
+strange light in her eyes glimmered more noticeably.</p>
+
+<p>“You know,” said Barry, “a dead body always gets
+on my nerves, whether it’s a horse or a dog or a man.
+I can’t abide the sight of any of them. Well, as I was
+saying when we were interrupted—let me see! what
+was I saying?”</p>
+
+<p>“You were speaking,” said the widow, “of the generosity
+of your company.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” continued Barry, “the—the generosity of
+my company.” He paused again. The untoward incident
+seemed to have quite broken the continuity of
+his thought.</p>
+
+<p>“You know, Mrs. Bradley,” he went on after a
+moment, “the company doesn’t owe you anything.”</p>
+
+<p>“No,” she replied, “the obligation is quite on the
+other side. I owe your company something which I
+shall some day try to repay—with interest.”</p>
+
+<p>Witless and unseeing, he blundered on: “Don’t
+mention it, my good woman. Our company bears no
+resentment. In fact we have decided, on my recommendation
+as vice-president, to treat you as generously
+as we do widows of our employees with whom we have
+had no quarrel.”</p>
+
+<p>“And who have not imagined that they had rights
+which your company was bound to respect,” said the
+widow.</p>
+
+<p>“Exactly,” replied Barry. “Who have not harassed
+us with ridiculous lawsuits, which they could never
+hope to win.”</p>
+
+<p>“I trust,” said the widow, “that you will pardon me
+for that presumption. I didn’t know, really, how ridiculous
+and unreasonable my lawsuit was until the
+judge informed me from the bench.”</p>
+
+<p>“No, I suppose not. But when you learned, by judicial
+pronouncement, in what a false position you had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_50"></a>[50]</span>
+been placed, you discharged your lawyer and dropped
+the case. That was very wise and proper. And, in
+view of that fact, we have decided to be especially
+liberal toward you. We—we have usually paid to—to——”</p>
+
+<p>Whether his nerves had been unstrung by the sight
+of the death chamber, or whether his senses were being
+dulled by the fascination of magnetic eyes, of perfect,
+parted lips disclosing white and even teeth, of a feminine
+charm which appealed to him irresistibly; whatever
+may have been the cause, he had lost his easy
+loquacity and was stumbling along in a manner most
+unusual for him.</p>
+
+<p>“We have generally paid,” he repeated, “to widows
+of—of——”</p>
+
+<p>“Victims,” she suggested.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes; of victims of—of their own carelessness and
+lack of brains,—always as a gift—a gift pure and
+simple, you know—the sum of two hundred and fifty
+dollars.”</p>
+
+<p>“I understand,” she said. “A pure and simple gift.”</p>
+
+<p>“Exactly.”</p>
+
+<p>“And a very munificent gift, considering the low
+social grade and primitive habits and general unworthiness
+of those who usually receive it.” Stupid that he
+was, or stupefied, he did not come within a thousand
+miles of piercing the thin veil of her sarcasm.</p>
+
+<p>“Very true,” he replied. “But we recognize the
+fact that there have been peculiar hardships surrounding
+your case, and we desire to treat—you with still
+greater munificence.”</p>
+
+<p>“How extremely kind and considerate to an unfortunate
+victim of—circumstances.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes; it is our purpose to be kind and considerate.
+Therefore we have decided—and as vice-president of
+the company I recommended the action—we have decided
+to make you a gift of four hundred dollars.”</p>
+
+<p>She lifted her hands as if in delighted astonishment.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_51"></a>[51]</span></p>
+
+<p>“How extraordinary!” she exclaimed. “You overwhelm
+me by your liberality. Are you quite sure it
+won’t interfere with paying dividends, or salaries, or
+anything like that?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not—not at all, Mrs. Bradley.” But he looked,
+for the first time during the interview, a bit uncertain,
+as if he had a dim sense of something, somewhere, not
+being exactly right.</p>
+
+<p>During all this time the rector had sat without opening
+his lips. There had been no occasion for him to
+speak. With ever-growing astonishment he had watched
+Barry paving his own path to sure disaster. With
+ever-growing apprehension he had watched the rising
+tide of indignation in the woman’s breast. Could it be
+possible that the fellow sitting there was so dim of
+vision, so witless in intellect, that he could not see the
+gathering thunder-clouds in her face, the gleam of lightning
+in her half-veiled eyes; could not realize that a
+storm, the fury of which would be terrible beyond belief,
+was about to break on his unprotected head? But
+the rector of Christ Church knew what was coming, if
+Barry did not, and he knew that the moment for the
+cataclysm had about arrived. He moved uneasily in
+his chair, and his movement attracted the widow’s
+attention. She turned her eyes on him.</p>
+
+<p>“We are keeping you,” she said, “without cause.
+You need not wait any longer. I know what the situation
+is, and I can handle it without help. Thank you
+for staying as long as you have.”</p>
+
+<p>She rose and held out her hand to him. He took it,
+but he said:</p>
+
+<p>“I can stay still longer if——”</p>
+
+<p>She interrupted him:</p>
+
+<p>“It is not at all necessary. Indeed, I would prefer
+that you should go now.”</p>
+
+<p>It was plain to the rector that she did not care to
+have him witness her outburst of wrath when it should
+come. Yet he was not quite satisfied to go and leave<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_52"></a>[52]</span>
+Barry alone with her, unsuspecting and unprotected.
+It seemed a bit cowardly on his part, much as he might
+dread to see the hurricane. He half hoped that Barry
+would say something that would make it necessary for
+him to remain. But Barry said nothing of the kind.
+He simply shook hands and remarked that he would
+doubtless overtake the minister on the way back, and
+added that his errand was about done anyway, with
+the exception of handing Mrs. Bradley the check and
+getting her signature to the voucher, and he was sure
+that that could be done without ministerial help. Indeed,
+in his own mind, he was rather pleased than
+otherwise at the prospect of being alone for a few
+minutes with this remarkable woman, even with the
+stark body of her dead husband lying grimly in the
+next room.</p>
+
+<p>So the Reverend Mr. Farrar went his way. The
+door closed behind him, and Mrs. Bradley and Barry
+turned back into the room, but they did not resume
+their seats. He lifted the flap of the envelope which
+he still held in his hand, and drew forth a check and a
+voucher.</p>
+
+<p>“If you will kindly sign this receipt,” he said, “I will
+hand you the check. I brought my fountain pen with
+me. I didn’t know how you might be fixed here for
+writing materials.”</p>
+
+<p>“That was very thoughtful of you,” she remarked.</p>
+
+<p>She took the check and looked at it carefully.</p>
+
+<p>“And is this,” she asked, “your father’s signature?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. I sign checks only in his absence.”</p>
+
+<p>“And—might I keep this as a souvenir? He is such
+a great and good man.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, you have to give up the check, you know,
+when you get your money.”</p>
+
+<p>“Indeed! How unfortunate!”</p>
+
+<p>She took the voucher and examined it in its turn.</p>
+
+<p>“And do I sign this?” she asked.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, if you please.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_53"></a>[53]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Oh! I see,” still looking at the paper, “that I receive
+the four hundred dollars as a gift.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, purely as a gift.”</p>
+
+<p>“Ah! Couldn’t you put in somewhere how undeserving
+I am of it, and how grateful I am to get it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, that’s not necessary, Mrs. Bradley. We—we
+take all those things for granted, you know.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh! And this says also that I release all claim
+for damages.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. We thought it best to put that in. You
+never can tell what may happen.”</p>
+
+<p>“I see! Don’t you think that it ought also to say
+that I acknowledge my unworthiness and inferiority,
+and yield up my self-respect, and recognize my own
+deplorable social condition? Don’t you?”</p>
+
+<p>He did not reply. It was dawning on him at last
+that she had been trying to pierce him with shafts of
+ridicule. Now her manner was changing from gentle
+raillery into that of biting and open sarcasm. She
+threw the papers down on the table in front of him and
+backed away. She stood erect and dignified. Her
+eyes, widely open now, were luminous with wrath.
+Her lips were parted still, but not in smiles. The
+gleam of her white teeth was ominous. She was like
+a splendid leopard, not crouching, but ready to seize
+upon her prey. It would seem that only a fool could
+have been unaware of his peril. Yet Barry Malleson
+stood there, vaguely wondering why she should have
+grown suddenly sarcastic, and whether it was possible
+that she was about, after all, to decline the gratuity
+that he had offered to her. Of the fierce wrath that
+lay back of her piercing eyes, ready to flash in hot
+words from her tongue, he had no conception. Perhaps
+it was well that he had none. Heaven is often
+kind, in that way, to the mentally unfortunate.</p>
+
+<p>But she was not quite ready for the leap. There
+was one thing to be settled first.</p>
+
+<p>“Richard Malleson,” she said, “has sent you with a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_54"></a>[54]</span>
+message to me. Will you, in turn, kindly take a message
+from me to Richard Malleson?”</p>
+
+<p>“With—with pleasure, Mrs. Bradley.” But he
+spoke hesitatingly. There was a ring in her voice, a
+certain rising inflection that gave him a sense of uneasiness.
+It seemed to sound a vague alarm.</p>
+
+<p>“Thank you! It is very appropriate to send the
+message by you, because, I believe, you are his son.”</p>
+
+<p>“Very true. I am his son.”</p>
+
+<p>His eyes were fixed on hers in open, frank, involuntary
+admiration. She saw his soul as plainly as though
+it had lain mapped and lettered before her.</p>
+
+<p>“You—are—his son,” she repeated slowly.</p>
+
+<p>The lids again half veiled her eyes. The hard lines on
+her lips relaxed. She put her hand up against her
+heart as though she were stifled by some sudden and
+overwhelming emotion. A chair stood by her and she
+dropped into it and began to pass her fingers absent-mindedly
+across her forehead.</p>
+
+<p>Barry was alarmed. He had noticed the quickened
+breathing, and the sudden pallor that had come into
+her face, and he feared that she was ill.</p>
+
+<p>“Shall I call some one?” he said.</p>
+
+<p>“Thank you, no. It was just a passing weakness.
+I’ve been on my feet a good deal and lost a good deal
+of sleep lately. Won’t you please be seated?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, I guess not. I won’t trespass any longer on
+your time and strength. If you’ll sign this voucher
+I’ll go.”</p>
+
+<p>“Please be seated for a moment. There’s something
+I want to tell you.”</p>
+
+<p>If there was any longer any wrath in her soul, her
+face did not show it, her voice did not indicate it. She
+looked up at him appealingly, with big and tender eyes.
+He could no more have refused her invitation to be
+seated than he could have refused to draw his next
+breath.</p>
+
+<p>“It is very kind of you—and of your father—to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_55"></a>[55]</span>
+offer me the money,” she said, “but, really, I can’t accept
+it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, but you must accept it, Mrs. Bradley. Why
+won’t you take it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, we are not in immediate need.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s all right; you can lay it away.”</p>
+
+<p>“And I am opposed, on principle, to accepting
+charity.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then we won’t call it charity.”</p>
+
+<p>“Or gifts from those who are better off than I am.
+I don’t believe there should be any rich people to make
+gifts, nor any poor people to receive them. I think
+the wealth of the world should be more evenly distributed.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, but you’re wrong there, Mrs. Bradley. I think
+I can convince you——”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m too tired to be convinced to-day, Mr. Malleson.”</p>
+
+<p>“Pardon me! I’ll come again later on and we’ll
+talk it over.”</p>
+
+<p>“As you wish.”</p>
+
+<p>“Say in the course of a week or two?”</p>
+
+<p>“If you desire.”</p>
+
+<p>She rose, as if to conclude the interview, and took
+the check and voucher from the table and handed them
+to him.</p>
+
+<p>“Can’t I prevail on you,” he said, “to accept this
+gift?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not to-day, Mr. Malleson.”</p>
+
+<p>“When I come again?”</p>
+
+<p>“Possibly. It is said that a woman is never twice
+of the same mind.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then I shall certainly come.”</p>
+
+<p>He was looking at her still with undisguised and
+ever-increasing admiration. Not that he was conscious
+of it. It was purely involuntary. He would not knowingly
+have sought, in this way, to impress or embarrass
+a woman whose husband’s dead body was lying just<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_56"></a>[56]</span>
+back of the first closed door. For he was a gentleman,
+and had a gentleman’s sense of the proprieties. But he
+was utterly powerless to hide the impression that the
+woman’s beauty was making on him. Moreover it was
+a versatile beauty. In the brief space occupied by his
+visit he had seen its character diametrically change.
+From the strong, scornful, splendid type maintained
+during the greater part of his interview with her, it
+had been transformed into the tender, clinging, trusting
+variety that with many men is still more alluring.
+But, whatever its character, it held him irresistibly
+under its spell. He moved backward to the outer
+door, his gaze still fastened on the woman’s face. She
+gave him her hand at parting. It was a warm, confident,
+lingering hand-clasp, attuned to the look in her
+eyes, to the modulation of her voice, to the general
+friendliness of her manner. It was not the art of
+coquetry. It was as much deeper and more subtle than
+that as the sea is deeper and more subtle than the
+shallow pool. A woman does not play the coquette
+while a sheet-covered thing that had been her husband
+lies ghastly still and gruesome in an adjoining room.</p>
+
+<p>But when she heard the humming of the starting
+car, and knew that her recent visitor was well out of
+sight and hearing, she resumed her seat, locked her
+hands above her head, and permitted her fine lips to
+curve in a smile that was neither gentle nor tender, nor
+wholly void of guile.</p>
+
+<p>The door from the kitchen was opened and a little
+old woman with a deeply wrinkled face thrust her head
+into the room.</p>
+
+<p>“Has everybody gone, Mary?” she asked.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, mother.”</p>
+
+<p>“The first man that come was a preacher, wasn’t
+he?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, mother.”</p>
+
+<p>“Is he goin’ to hold the funeral?”</p>
+
+<p>“No.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_57"></a>[57]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Why ain’t he?”</p>
+
+<p>“Because I don’t choose to have him.”</p>
+
+<p>“Was the next man that come a preacher, too?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, mother.”</p>
+
+<p>“Who was he?”</p>
+
+<p>“He was Richard Malleson’s—fool.”</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_58"></a>[58]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV<br>
+<small>THE NEW MOON</small></h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>When Barry Malleson left the house of Mrs. Bradley
+he left it with his head in a rose-cloud. The woman had
+fascinated him. Plainly and cheaply garbed as he had
+seen her, plain and cheap as her environment was, devoid,
+as she must be, of all social standing and of all the
+social graces, she had, nevertheless, fascinated him. Not
+that he permitted himself, under the circumstances, to
+think of making love to her; that would have been
+incongruous and inexcusable. But she had surrounded
+him with an atmosphere pervaded and enriched by her
+own personality, and from that atmosphere he could
+not, nor did he try to, escape.</p>
+
+<p>He did not overtake the Reverend Mr. Farrar on his
+way back to the city, but he did overtake Miss Chichester.
+She was walking along hurriedly in an unattractive
+suburb; she was alone, and dusk was falling,
+and the only decent thing for him to do was to pull up
+to the curb and ask her to ride into the city. She was
+not loath to accept his invitation. It pleased her, not
+alone because the acceptance of it would help her on
+her way, but because also it would give her, for a brief
+time, the exclusive companionship of Barry Malleson.
+There was no just reason why Miss Chichester should
+not desire the companionship of Barry, nor why she
+was not entitled to it. They had known each other
+from childhood. She was a member of his social set;
+she belonged to the church which he attended; she was
+not far from his own age; she was fairly prepossessing
+in appearance; and she was, so far as any romantic
+connection was concerned, entirely unattached. Moreover,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_59"></a>[59]</span>
+she admired Barry. Perhaps Barry did not know
+it, but if he did not it was no fault of Miss Chichester’s.
+While maidenly modesty would not permit her to make
+open love to him, there are a thousand ways in which
+a young woman may manifest her preference for a
+man with the utmost propriety. Miss Chichester exercised
+all of them. But, so far, they had been without
+avail. Easily impressed as Barry was with feminine
+charms, he had not been impressed with those of Miss
+Chichester. Therefore he had been unresponsive. Not
+that he was entirely unaware of her preference for him—dull
+as he may have been, he could not have failed to
+understand something of that—but he simply ignored
+it. The strenuousness of his duties as vice-president of
+the Malleson Manufacturing Company left him no time
+to bestow on a love affair in which he was not especially
+interested. It was, therefore, with no great amount of
+enthusiasm that he asked Miss Chichester to ride with
+him this day. Besides, he had something to think
+about, and he would have preferred to be alone. But
+he handed her into his car with as much courtesy as
+though she had been his wife or his sweetheart.</p>
+
+<p>“You’re a long way from home, Jane?” he said,
+inquiringly.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” she replied, “I’ve been down on the south
+side to visit a poor family in which the guild is interested,
+and it got late before I realized it. I was hurrying
+along to get out of this section of the city before
+dark. It was so good of you to pick me up.”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s a pleasure to have the opportunity.”</p>
+
+<p>“Thank you! Now that I’ve told you where I’ve
+been, it’s only fair that you should tell me where you’ve
+been. Let’s exchange confidences.”</p>
+
+<p>“By all means! I’ve been up to Factory Hill to call
+on a widow.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Pickwick was advised to beware of widows.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I’m not Mr. Pickwick, and, besides, this one
+isn’t dangerous.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_60"></a>[60]</span></p>
+
+<p>“But is she fascinating, Barry? You know widows
+are usually described as fascinating.”</p>
+
+<p>“Fascinating! Well, now, why do you want to
+know?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, just to find out if you were making love to her.”</p>
+
+<p>“Making love to her! Good Lord! With her dead
+husband lying in the next room!”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, Barry!”</p>
+
+<p>“If he’d been a live one I might have done it. She
+was handsome enough to provoke any man into it.
+But a dead one! Deliver me from dead husbands!”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s awfully interesting—and gruesome. Tell
+me about it, do!”</p>
+
+<p>So Barry told her about his errand to Mrs. Bradley,
+the purport of it and the result of it. They were rolling
+up the Main Street of the city. Miss Chichester
+was not so absorbed in Barry’s story that she failed to
+bow and smile to people on the pavement whom she
+knew. It was something to be seen at dusk, alone
+with Barry Malleson, in his car.</p>
+
+<p>“And are you going again to see her, and urge her
+to take the money?” inquired Miss Chichester when
+Barry had completed the account of his visit.</p>
+
+<p>“Sure! I’m going again.”</p>
+
+<p>“Let me go with you.”</p>
+
+<p>“Eh? You go with me? What for?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, just to see how such a remarkable woman acts
+and talks.”</p>
+
+<p>“I—I’m afraid I couldn’t do as much with her if
+you were present.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’d help you. I’d tell her it was her duty to take
+the money.”</p>
+
+<p>“She doesn’t like to be dictated to.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then I’d plead with her to take it.”</p>
+
+<p>“I—I think I could do better with her alone.”</p>
+
+<p>“Barry Malleson, I believe you’re on the verge of
+falling in love with that woman. That’s why you don’t
+want me to go.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_61"></a>[61]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Preposterous!”</p>
+
+<p>“Then take me along.”</p>
+
+<p>“All right! You may go.”</p>
+
+<p>Barry knew that she would have her own way about
+it eventually, and that he might as well yield first as
+last.</p>
+
+<p>They had left Main Street and were bowling along
+up the avenue toward Fountain Park, the exclusive
+residence district in which they both lived. It was a
+very mild and beautiful September evening. The
+balmy air, the shadowy twilight, the moving car, the
+overhanging trees, were all suggestive of romance.
+And Miss Chichester was not averse to romance—under
+proper auspices.</p>
+
+<p>“I think,” she said, “that I caught a glimpse of the
+new moon just beyond the tower of Christ Church as
+we turned the corner. Did you see it, Barry?”</p>
+
+<p>“No.” Barry did not intend to be abrupt, but his
+mind was occupied just then by the vision of another
+woman’s face.</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t you want to look at it?” she asked. “It
+must be back of us somewhere. We’re far enough up
+the hill now to see it plainly.”</p>
+
+<p>“If I turn around I’ll have to stop the car.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then stop it. It’s worth while.”</p>
+
+<p>Barry stopped the car and started to turn his head.</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t look yet!” exclaimed Miss Chichester.
+“Over which shoulder must you see it in order to have
+good luck?”</p>
+
+<p>“Blessed if I know!”</p>
+
+<p>“Neither do I. I’ll tell you what we’ll do, Barry.
+You look at it over your right shoulder, and I’ll look
+at it over my left; then one of us two will have good
+luck anyway. It really doesn’t matter which one.”</p>
+
+<p>“All right!”</p>
+
+<p>Miss Chichester turned her head slowly to the left,
+while Barry turned his slowly to the right, and so they
+faced each other. Now, when a susceptible young<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_62"></a>[62]</span>
+man, and a like-minded young woman, sitting side by
+side in a car, in the gloaming, turn toward each other
+to look over their respective shoulders at a new moon,
+the tender light of which falls on their upturned faces,
+the situation becomes such that Cupid is more than
+likely to kick up his pudgy heels in glee. But on this
+occasion he never moved a muscle. It was Barry’s
+fault. He simply did not appreciate his privileges and
+opportunities. In the most matter-of-fact way he
+turned back, after gazing for a moment on the glimmering
+crescent, restored the power to his car, and as
+it shot ahead he quietly remarked:</p>
+
+<p>“I wonder if the moon is really made of green
+cheese.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, Barry!” said Miss Chichester. “You impossible
+man!”</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>The funeral of John Bradley was conducted in accordance
+with the will of his widow. There was no
+clergyman there. Nor did any one read the service for
+the burial of the dead as authorized by any Church.
+Religion had absolutely no part in this final chapter of
+the story of a workingman’s life and death. It was
+Sunday afternoon, the dead man’s fellow-workmen
+were free to come, and they gathered in large numbers
+to pay their tribute to his memory. But this was not
+the only purpose of their coming. They desired also
+by their presence to manifest their sympathy with his
+widow, to emphasize their disapproval of the treatment
+he had received from his corporate employer, and from
+the court that had sent him away empty handed from
+the only tribunal that was supposed to do justice between
+man and man. There were few toilers in the
+city who had not heard of the misfortunes of the man
+now dead, and few who did not believe him to have
+been a victim of corporate greed and of a gross miscarriage
+of justice.</p>
+
+<p>It was largely in demonstration of their belief that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_63"></a>[63]</span>
+they came to attend the funeral. One by one they
+passed by his coffin, men of his own walk in life, and
+looked down on his dead face. They were sober,
+sympathetic and silent as they looked. Some of them,
+who had known him well in his lifetime, were moved
+to tears. Not that he had been a leader among them,
+nor that he had been a favorite with them, nor that
+they had respected or cared more for him than they
+had for a hundred others who worked nine hours a day,
+smoked an ill-smelling pipe, drank a few glasses of beer
+of an evening, and in general lived a monotonous, unambitious,
+unintellectual life. So that whatever emotion
+they manifested beyond that ordinarily caused by
+the mere fact of death was due wholly to the injustice
+of which they believed he had been a victim, and to
+the unusual manner of his taking off.</p>
+
+<p>Bradley’s widow, sitting near the head of the coffin
+with veil thrown back, watched them as they came
+and went. Whether or not others in the gathering
+marked the significance of the outpouring, she, at least,
+did not fail to do so. She sensed the spirit of the
+crowd. She saw in it a complete justification of her
+attitude toward the social forces that had kept her submissive
+and submerged, toward the power of wealth
+that had overridden her, toward the courts that had
+failed to give her justice.</p>
+
+<p>She was not overwhelmed by grief. Why should
+she be? Bradley had never been a man to be ardently
+loved by any woman, much less by a woman of her
+mental capacity and attainments. Why she had married
+him was still a mystery among those who knew
+her. With her education, her quality of mind, her
+exceptional beauty, she might have had in marriage
+the most promising man in her circle who worked in
+any capacity for wages; she might, indeed, have had
+one of still higher social and business grade. But she
+chose to marry John Bradley. The reasons that govern
+the matrimonial choice are often inscrutable, and women<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_64"></a>[64]</span>
+are protected, by the very fact of their sex, from ever
+being called upon to make them known. But if Mary
+Bradley had, at any time, repented her choice of a
+husband, no one had ever heard her express such a
+thought. She had remained absolutely faithful and
+helpful to him from the beginning to the end. And,
+in a crude, undemonstrative way, he had appreciated
+her and had been good to her. He had never abused
+her by word or deed, not even on those infrequent occasions
+when he had come home in his cups. He had
+turned over to her his weekly wages; he had never
+crossed her will; he had given her of his unimportant
+best. What more could she have asked? So, dispassionately,
+superficially perhaps, she sorrowed at
+his death. She felt no such pangs of grief as tore her
+heart when her girl baby died. That death had cut
+into the core of her being. But the passing of any soul
+that one has seen familiarly, illuminating a living body
+however dimly, cannot fail to arouse at least some
+semblance of sorrow in the normal human heart. And
+the demonstration made by her husband’s fellow-workers
+touched her also. Glancing out through the
+open doorway she saw that the street in front of her
+house was full of them. Stephen Lamar came to her
+and asked her permission to address the people from
+her porch. She gave her consent willingly. Lamar
+was the protagonist of the workingmen of the city.
+He was their leader in the social revolt which was
+eventually to free them from the chains of capitalism,
+and restore to them their natural rights. Somewhere,
+somehow, he had become learned in the things that
+pertained to the struggle between the classes, he was
+gifted with a crude eloquence that made his speeches
+popular, and whenever he spoke to them, the workers
+heard him gladly. Now, as they saw him come out
+onto the porch and stand, with bared head, facing
+them, a murmur of approval ran through the crowd.
+He addressed them as “Comrades in Toil.” No one<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_65"></a>[65]</span>
+remembered ever to have seen Lamar engaged in any
+kind of manual labor; but, doubtless, he was doing
+vastly more for the workingmen by the activity of his
+brain and the eloquence of his tongue than he could
+possibly do by the labor of his hands. Moreover, as
+he himself reminded them occasionally, he had at one
+time been a day-laborer in a mill. So he had a right
+to address them as “Comrades in Toil.”</p>
+
+<p>He said: “I have just stood by the coffin of our departed
+fellow-worker; and I have been permitted by
+his widow to express to you a thought that came to me
+while looking on his dead face. As he lies there to-day,
+so any one of you may lie to-morrow, crushed and
+killed by the power of capitalism and the tyranny of
+the courts. But, you know, in the eyes of the capitalist,
+toil is nothing if it is you who toil, suffering is
+nothing if it is you who suffer, death is nothing if it is
+you who die. Why should the workingman have only
+toil and suffering and death, while his employers may
+treat themselves to all the soft comforts and luxuries
+that money can buy, and burden their women with
+silks and laces and jewels beyond price? It’s wrong,
+my friends. How many diamonds did John Bradley’s
+wife ever have? How many silks? How many
+jewelled ornaments? Was she not as much entitled
+to them, let me ask you, as the pampered wives of
+millionaires? Would not her beauty set them off as
+well? Has not she, by her woman’s work, earned
+them a thousand times more than have the idle daughters
+of the rich? Did not John Bradley do his share
+of the world’s work as well and faithfully as any plutocrat
+that ever breathed? and was he not therefore entitled
+to a just reward for his labor—a fair share of the
+profits of the world’s business? And what did he receive?
+I’ll tell you what. He received the right to
+work nine hours a day at paltry wages, in order that
+his capitalist employer might roll in wealth. He received,
+before he had reached his prime, a crushed<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_66"></a>[66]</span>
+body and a darkened mind. Those responsible for his
+awful injuries refused him just compensation, and his
+faithful wife had the privilege of hearing the honorable
+court declare that the law provides no recompense
+for the poor. My friends, John Bradley lies there to-day,
+the victim of capitalist greed. Look on his dead
+face and ask yourselves how long you, who have the
+power to change this brutal system of exploitation of
+the toiler, will suffer yourselves to remain the passive
+instruments of your own undoing.”</p>
+
+<p>He paused, flung back a lock of his dark hair, and
+then, like a true Marc Antony, with deprecatory gesture
+and pleading tone he went on: “Pardon me, my
+friends! I did not intend, in this solemn hour, to
+rouse your passions or stir up hatred for your masters.
+But the contemplation of such a crime as has been
+committed here leads me into speech that, however
+unwise it may be, is the true expression of the feeling
+of my heart. I have but one word more to say. You
+have observed that there is no religious service here to-day.
+This is as it should be. It is not fitting that the
+body of our dead comrade should be committed to the
+earth under the forms and auspices of a Church controlled
+by capitalism and made pompous by wealth.
+Do not misunderstand me. With true piety I have no
+quarrel. Worship God if you want to; but not the
+God set up by the plutocrat in his costly temple into
+which the proletariat may hardly dare to set their feet.
+I tell you that when this social house of cards that the
+money kings have built up shall topple—as it will—to
+its fall, their soulless, bloodless, godless Church will
+join it in the wreck. That is all, my friends. I beg
+you to hold these things in your hearts as you fight for
+liberty, and some glorious morning you shall wake up
+free.”</p>
+
+<p>With the plaudits of his hearers ringing in his ears,
+he stepped back into the room where Mary Bradley
+sat.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_67"></a>[67]</span></p>
+
+<p>“I heard you,” she exclaimed, “and it was well said.
+I wish I could have said it myself.”</p>
+
+<p>Her commendation was sweeter to him than the
+crowd’s applause.</p>
+
+<p>“I’m glad you liked it,” he replied. “I had a
+chance to stir those fellows up, and I took it. I
+know John would have been willing, and I’m sure
+you were.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m willing to have anything done that will tend
+to bring this capitalistic crowd to their knees.”</p>
+
+<p>“Good! And what are you willing to do yourself?”</p>
+
+<p>“Anything that I can.”</p>
+
+<p>“Good again! I have a little plan in mind by
+which you can be of vast help to us.”</p>
+
+<p>“I have my living to earn.”</p>
+
+<p>“You shall earn it. We will give you the opportunity.
+We need the assistance of a woman of your
+ability, in strong sympathy with the working classes.”</p>
+
+<p>“I am in sympathy; but, frankly, the strongest feeling
+in my mind at present is a desire for revenge.”</p>
+
+<p>He smiled and held out his hand to her. “You shall
+have it,” he said. “I promise you.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then you may depend on me.”</p>
+
+<p>“When shall I come and talk it over with you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Any day you choose.”</p>
+
+<p>“To-morrow?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>He released her hand and went back among the
+bearers.</p>
+
+<p>But he did not cease to look on her. Few women
+are beautiful when dressed in deep mourning. Nor
+would Mary Bradley have been beautiful had she not
+stood erect, with veil thrown back, with white teeth
+gleaming at her parted lips, with flashing dark eyes
+showing forth her woman’s determination. As it was,
+Lamar thought that he had never seen a picture more
+fascinating. And if his plan did not fail, she would<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_68"></a>[68]</span>
+work every day, side by side with him, in the interest
+of labor. If his deeper plan did not fail—— Lamar
+was not so fastidious as Barry Malleson had been about
+shutting out from his mind and contemplation the idea
+of making love to a woman who was at that moment
+sitting on one side of the coffined body of her husband
+while he sat on the other.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>That afternoon, as the rector of Christ Church was
+returning from a service held by him in a mission
+chapel maintained by his church, he saw a funeral procession
+winding up a hill toward a suburban cemetery.
+The rest of his party had driven back to the city, but
+he had preferred to walk home alone. Of a man who
+stood at the curb he inquired whose funeral it was,
+and he was told that it was the funeral of John
+Bradley.</p>
+
+<p>“The man that got smashed up in the Malleson
+mill,” added his informant, “and they wouldn’t give
+him no damages.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I know about the case.”</p>
+
+<p>“And his wife went into court with a suit and got
+throwed out.”</p>
+
+<p>“I was in court at the time.”</p>
+
+<p>“That so? You’re a preacher, ain’t you?” looking
+at the clerical cut of his garments.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I’m a preacher.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, now, do you think that was a square deal?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, frankly, I do not.”</p>
+
+<p>The man, he was evidently a laborer, reached out a
+hard hand and grasped the hand of the rector.</p>
+
+<p>“You’re all right!” he exclaimed. “But you’re
+the first preacher I ever heard say as much as that.
+Most of ’em side the other way; or else they hedge,
+and won’t say nothin’. Where do you preach?”</p>
+
+<p>“At Christ Church.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I’ve heard about you. I don’t go to church
+much myself, but I’m comin’ some Sunday to hear you<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_69"></a>[69]</span>
+preach. They say you ain’t a bit afraid to give the
+devil his due, so far as the rich is concerned.”</p>
+
+<p>“I try to preach a straight gospel, whether it affects
+the rich or the poor.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s right. If more of ’em would do that the
+laborin’ men might git their rights some day, and a
+little religion besides.”</p>
+
+<p>“You think more of them would come to church?”</p>
+
+<p>“Sure they would. All they want is to have the
+Church take as much account of the poor as it does of
+the rich. I’m comin’ to hear you preach though, anyway;
+and I’ll bring some of the boys along. Good-bye!
+I’m goin’ up the hill now, with the funeral.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll go with you if I may.”</p>
+
+<p>“Glad to have you. Come on.”</p>
+
+<p>A sudden desire had seized the clergyman to see the
+end of this grim, industrial tragedy that had stirred
+his heart.</p>
+
+<p>The hearse was already half-way up the hill. It was
+followed by two coaches. Behind the coaches, in orderly
+procession, marched two hundred toilers; men
+who had been present at the Bradley house and had
+heard Lamar’s speech, and who, in the exercise of class
+consciousness, had been glad, on their day of rest, to
+march two miles to the cemetery to see the body of
+their fellow-laborer consigned to earth.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Farrar and his newly-found friend fell in at the
+end of the procession, and followed it to the grave.</p>
+
+<p>When Mary Bradley descended from the coach to
+take her place near the head of the coffin, where it lay,
+supported by cross-sticks, over the open pit, her eyes
+fell upon the rector of Christ Church.</p>
+
+<p>One of those sudden impulses that overtake most
+women in times of stress, regardless of their walk in
+life, came upon her in that moment, and she acted upon
+it without further thought.</p>
+
+<p>She turned to one of the bearers, standing near, and
+requested him to ask the Reverend Mr. Farrar to come<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_70"></a>[70]</span>
+to her. The man looked at her in astonishment and
+did not move.</p>
+
+<p>“Did you hear me?” she said. “I want that
+preacher to come here.”</p>
+
+<p>This time there was no mistaking the meaning of her
+request. The man went at once upon his errand, and
+the clergyman responded promptly to the summons.</p>
+
+<p>She put aside her veil that he might see her face and
+know that she was in earnest. The bearers, waiting to
+perform their final service for John Bradley, looked
+at her in amazement. Others stared and wondered.
+Stephen Lamar, standing at the side of the grave,
+scowled in open disapproval.</p>
+
+<p>Was she, after all, to belie his eloquent defense of a
+churchless funeral, yield to unreasoning custom, and
+have a preacher commit her husband’s body to the
+earth? It was unbelievable.</p>
+
+<p>“I have changed my mind,” she said to the minister.
+“I wish you to speak at this burial, not as a preacher,
+but as a friend of John Bradley’s and mine. I don’t
+want anything said that’s religious; just something
+that’s comforting, that I can take home with me.”</p>
+
+<p>It was a strange request. How could a minister of
+the Church, with the inheritance of nineteen centuries
+upon him, stand by an open grave and commit the body
+of a human being to its shelter, and avoid all reference
+to that which alone had power to rob death of its sting
+and the grave of its victory? But the rector of Christ
+Church was quick in emergencies. He did not hesitate
+now, in either thought or deed. He directed the bearers
+to proceed with their task, and, as the coffin descended,
+he gathered up a handful of fresh earth from
+the mound at his side and scattered it into the open pit.</p>
+
+<p>“Earth to earth—ashes to ashes—dust to dust.”</p>
+
+<p>As the last word left his lips the coffin found its
+resting place on the bed of the grave. He held up his
+hand while the people around him stood awed and expectant.
+His voice was clear and resonant as he spoke:</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_71"></a>[71]</span></p>
+
+<p>“In that day when the earth shall give up its dead,
+and when the spirits of those that were in prison shall
+be free, may we know that the unfettered soul of this
+our brother has attained the fulfilment of the joys that
+were denied him here, but which, through all the ages,
+have awaited his coming into that sweet and blessed
+country where labor and patience and a conscience void
+of offense shall have their just and reasonable reward.
+Amen!”</p>
+
+<p>He stepped aside, the lowering straps were pulled
+harshly up, and the first spadeful of earth fell, with that
+hollow and gruesome sound which is like none other,
+on the narrow house in which the body of John Bradley
+lay.</p>
+
+<p>Up to this moment, whatever her sorrow at her husband’s
+death may have been, no one had seen Mary
+Bradley weep. But she was weeping now. Something
+in the preacher’s words, or in his voice or manner, had
+touched the well-spring of her emotion, and had brought
+to her eyes tears which she made no effort to restrain.</p>
+
+<p>She reached out her hand to the clergyman in a
+grateful clasp, but she said nothing, and, before he
+could speak to her a single word of comfort or consolation,
+she entered her coach and was driven away.</p>
+
+<p>“It was a decent funeral,” commented one of the
+toilers, as he shuffled slowly down the path leading to
+the cemetery gate.</p>
+
+<p>“It was that,” responded the fellow-worker at his
+side. “A labor-leader at the house and a preacher at
+the grave. What more could the man ask?”</p>
+
+<p>“An’ not too much religion in it either. Religion
+don’t fit the workin’ man; an’ this priest seemed to
+sense it an’ cut it out, more credit to him. They say
+he’s a devilish good preacher, too, an’ stands up great
+for labor. I’ve a mind I’ll go hear him next Sunday.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll go with ye, Thomas.”</p>
+
+<p>“Come along. We’ll go together.”</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_72"></a>[72]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V<br>
+<small>AN UNUSUAL SERMON</small></h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>When the rector of Christ Church entered the
+chancel on the Sunday morning following the funeral
+of John Bradley, and looked out over the well-filled
+pews, he had no reason to be dissatisfied with the size
+of his congregation. Yet a full church was no unusual
+thing. For many Sundays now, people had been coming
+in ever greater numbers to hear him preach. They
+were attracted not alone by his ability, his earnestness
+and his spirituality; but also by the novelty of his
+message to society concerning the proper relation of
+the Church to the wage-workers and to the poor. It
+was by the attendance of the wage-working class that
+congregations had, for the most part, been swollen.
+There were few accessions from homes of wealth. To
+the rich and the exclusive the new interpretation of the
+Gospel of Christ had not proved to be especially attractive.
+They had not formally repudiated it. They
+had not absented themselves from the services in order
+that they might not hear it. They had not relinquished
+any proper effort to uphold and maintain the dignity
+and usefulness of the Church, notwithstanding the
+divergent views of the rector on certain matters of no
+little importance. So that, on this particular Sunday
+morning, there was no evidence of desertion on the
+part of the rich and the well-to-do. It was noted,
+however, that the pews in the rear of the church, those
+renting at low prices and therefore occupied by parishioners
+in moderate or humble circumstances, were
+the ones that were filled to overflowing. It was plainly
+evident that more than one laboring-man and working-woman<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_73"></a>[73]</span>
+had followed the example of the lookers-on at
+John Bradley’s funeral, and had come to hear the minister
+preach. The story of his address at the grave on
+the preceding Sunday had spread through the ranks of
+the toilers, and was responsible in no small degree for
+the size of the congregation to-day. People wanted to
+hear, in his own pulpit, the clergyman who could stand
+by the open grave of a common laborer, one not given
+either to religious beliefs or practices, and say things
+acceptable to all of the dead man’s friends, believers
+and disbelievers alike. So they had come, men in rusty
+attire, with stolid countenances and awkward bearing,
+women with bent shoulders and toil-hardened hands,
+and care-worn faces looking out from under the brims
+of hats and bonnets that had done Sunday service for
+unknown years. They did not respond to the prayers,
+nor join in the litany, nor kneel nor rise in accordance
+with the rubrics. But they were silent, attentive, respectful.
+They came not so much to worship as to
+listen.</p>
+
+<p>The text that morning was the question asked by
+those offended aristocrats of old:</p>
+
+<p>“Is not this the carpenter, the son of Mary?”</p>
+
+<p>The preacher called the attention of his hearers to
+the fact that the founder of the Christian religion, in
+His early manhood, had been a laborer. He had gone
+about, with hammer and axe, working for wages, as
+did the carpenter of to-day. He was born of humble
+parents, reared in adversity, hardened to toil. Why
+should not the wage-earner of the twentieth century
+listen to His gospel and follow in His footsteps? His
+message was especially to the humble and the poor.
+His condemnation was for the haughty and self-sufficient
+rich. He founded His Church on the brotherhood
+of man. Its very existence was declaratory of
+the solidarity of the human race. There is neither
+Jew nor Greek, there is neither bond nor free, there is
+neither male nor female, for ye are all one in Christ<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_74"></a>[74]</span>
+Jesus. No other Messiah, no other religion in the
+history of the world has made so strong, so sympathetic
+an appeal to the humble and toil-worn. How utterly
+inconsistent it was, therefore, for the workers of the
+world to permit any other class to monopolize the
+benefits and enjoyments of the Church, an institution
+founded by one of their own, and dedicated to the
+principle that we are all “heirs of God, and joint heirs
+with Christ; if so be that we suffer with Him.”</p>
+
+<p>But the preacher’s special appeal this morning was
+to the men and women of wealth and prominence in
+his church and parish, on behalf of their brothers and
+sisters on whom fortune had not so abundantly smiled.
+It was not an appeal for kindness and charity, or material
+help of any kind. It was an appeal for recognition.</p>
+
+<p>“I say to you,” he said, in concluding his sermon,
+“that until we professed followers of Christ utterly
+abandon the idea that the Church is an institution to
+be enjoyed, managed and patronized only by the cultured,
+the wealthy and the well-to-do, we shall not begin
+to understand the lesson taught us by the carpenter of
+Nazareth. Until we abandon the pleasing delusion
+that we have measured up to our full duty as members
+and supporters of the Church when we attend its
+services, recite its prayers, contribute to its charities,
+relieve its poor and visit its suffering; until we take a
+vastly broader view than that of our duty and privilege
+as Christian men and women, we are yet in our sins.
+Neither my work as minister nor your work as laymen
+will be satisfactory in the sight of God until these
+church portals and pew-doors stand equally wide open
+to the poor and the rich. If we would do as the
+Master would have us do, we must hold out welcoming
+hands to the toiler, no matter how humble the character
+of his toil, and we must say to him, not ‘Come and be
+my guest to-day in the House of God,’ but ‘Come and
+be my fellow-worshiper, my comrade in Christ, my<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_75"></a>[75]</span>
+brother and my friend.’ I say to you frankly that I
+shall not be satisfied with my labors here until the
+workingman and the toiling-woman sit, side by side,
+in every pew, with the cultured and the rich; until
+they read together from the same prayer-book, recite
+together the same creed, kneel by each other at the
+same chancel-rail, and partake together of the Holy
+Communion in loving memory of Him who died for
+all men, ‘the carpenter, the son of Mary.’”</p>
+
+<p>Whether or not the humble folk who crowded the
+rear pews enjoyed the rest of the beautiful and solemn
+service, they were at least pleased with the sermon.
+On many a homely and rugged face, as these people
+passed out into the street, there was a smile of approval,
+and on many a lip that had never moved in
+prayer there was a comment of rejoicing that at least
+one preacher in the city understood the hearts of the
+poor and was not afraid to tell the rich, to their faces,
+what they ought to do.</p>
+
+<p>But the regular, influential parishioners of Christ
+Church, those to whom the appeal had been made, were,
+apparently, not so well pleased with the sermon. It
+was not noticed that any among them made immediate
+response by mingling in friendly intercourse with the
+humble strangers who had come to their house of
+worship.</p>
+
+<p>For the most part they waited in their pews until the
+unfamiliar faces had vanished beyond the outer doors.
+Then, by ones and twos and in little groups they moved
+slowly down the aisles. The stamp of unimpeachable
+respectability was on them all. They were well-mannered
+and well-dressed.</p>
+
+<p>The majority of the men wore black coats and gray
+trousers and carried silk hats and canes in their hands,
+while the women were handsomely and appropriately
+gowned. The principal topic of conversation among
+them was, of course, the rector’s sermon; and, regrettable
+as it may seem, there were few who were heard<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_76"></a>[76]</span>
+to speak of it approvingly. Why should they approve
+of it? These people and their ancestors had worshiped
+in Christ Church through more than two
+generations. Their wealth and social standing had
+given to the church a position in the diocese second to
+none. Their polished manners and timely courtesies
+and gracious hospitality had attracted to the church
+many other people of wealth and prominence who, in
+their turn, had become regular attendants and liberal
+supporters. By their concern for the welfare of the
+poor they had made the name of Christ Church a
+synonym for well-organized and widely distributed
+Christian charity. Surely it hardly lay in the mouth
+of this young preacher, who had been scarcely two
+years in their pulpit, to announce to them that, notwithstanding
+all this, they were yet in their sins. It is
+no wonder that a mild spirit of resentment had been
+roused within them, or that it found expression as they
+talked with each other on their way to the street. It
+was noticeable that the men, as a rule, were not outspoken
+in their disapproval of the sermon. Business
+and professional men are apt to be cautious in the
+matter of a hasty expression of opinion. Experience
+has taught them the policy of being conservative. But
+the women were under no similar restraint. They did
+not hesitate to say what was in their minds. And their
+minds were, apparently, made up. Of course Mr.
+Farrar was an eloquent preacher and, personally,
+a most attractive man, and Mrs. Farrar was perfectly
+lovely; but really, the sermons they had been having
+of late were unpardonable, and the one of to-day had
+simply capped the climax. Such things were so unjust
+to the people who were doing the work of the Church
+and bearing its financial burdens; so subversive of all
+accepted theories and customs; so well calculated to
+stir up discontent and jealousy, if not open antagonism,
+in the breasts of the envious and ignorant. One woman,
+prominent in the church, pompous and matronly, declared<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_77"></a>[77]</span>
+that she would not again humiliate herself by
+coming to listen to such heterodox preaching. She
+considered such sermons as the one of to-day to be
+positively irreligious, and destructive of the first principles
+of Christianity.</p>
+
+<p>Following her down the aisle came Ruth Tracy and
+her mother, and it was to them that this opinion had
+been expressed. Ruth’s face flushed and she made no
+reply; but Mrs. Tracy nodded her head in approval and
+said, “Yes, indeed!” Mr. Tracy, the husband and
+father, was not present. He went to church only on
+rare occasions. His week-days were strenuous, and his
+Sundays were needed for rest and recreation. He was
+the senior partner in the law firm of Tracy, Black and
+Westgate, of which firm Ruth’s fiancé was the junior
+member.</p>
+
+<p>Before Mrs. Tracy and her daughter reached the
+curb where their car was waiting, Westgate joined
+them.</p>
+
+<p>“And what did you think of the sermon?” asked
+the elder woman, after the morning greetings had been
+exchanged.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I know what Philip thought of it,” interrupted
+Ruth. “He thought it was an unwarranted attack on
+the supporters of the church, and a sop to socialism.
+Didn’t you, Philip?”</p>
+
+<p>The young man laughed and colored a little as he
+replied:</p>
+
+<p>“While I wouldn’t want to be quoted in just that
+way, you have gauged my mind with reasonable
+accuracy.”</p>
+
+<p>“I knew it,” responded the girl. “And now I’ll tell
+you what I think. I think it was a brave and conscientious
+sermon, and fully warranted by existing
+conditions.”</p>
+
+<p>She stood there, handsomely and good-naturedly
+defiant, attractive in the eyes of her lover, even in her
+opposition to him.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_78"></a>[78]</span></p>
+
+<p>“It was brave enough,” he responded; “and there’s
+no doubt about the man’s conscientiousness; but I
+believe he’s mistaken.”</p>
+
+<p>At that moment Barry and Miss Chichester came up.</p>
+
+<p>“Are you talking about the sermon?” asked Miss
+Chichester. “Barry and I are agreed that it was
+simply impossible, aren’t we, Barry?”</p>
+
+<p>“Preposterous!” asserted Barry. “Why, don’t you
+know, the thing would never work out. We couldn’t
+really have those people in our pews with us. Could
+we, Mrs. Tracy?”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m pretty sure that I couldn’t have them in mine,”
+Mrs. Tracy replied.</p>
+
+<p>“Why, just think of it!” added Barry. “For instance,
+the vice-president of the Malleson Manufacturing
+Company reading the responses out of the same prayer-book
+with a common day-laborer in his employ. How
+could the proper attitude be preserved on week days
+between the employer and the employee? Why,
+Phil, old man, the whole thing is absurd!”</p>
+
+<p>“You might stay away from church, Barry,” suggested
+Ruth.</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t put that idea into his head,” said Westgate.
+“Barry needs all the religion he can possibly absorb.”</p>
+
+<p>Then Mrs. Tracy came to the rescue of the vice-president.</p>
+
+<p>“Barry’s not so far wrong,” she declared. “It’s
+ridiculous to think of having these people in our pews.
+Just imagine Lucy Breen sitting with me. You all
+know poor Lucy, with her green gown and her red hat
+with the enormous white feather in it. Why, I should
+go into hysterics. Really I should.”</p>
+
+<p>“And,” laughed Ruth, “if Red-nosed Mike the burglar
+should sit with you he’d steal your Sunday dollar
+before ever the alms-basin came around.”</p>
+
+<p>“Now, I don’t think it’s fair,” said Miss Chichester,
+“to make fun of Barry and Mrs. Tracy that way. It’s
+really a serious matter. Don’t you think so, Phil?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_79"></a>[79]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Very!” responded Phil gravely.</p>
+
+<p>“And,” continued Mrs. Tracy, “he said we should
+commune together. Now, just think of it! There’s
+our gardener, Jim, you know, who chews tobacco constantly.
+Imagine having him next you at communion,
+and having him drink first out of the cup! Heavens!”</p>
+
+<p>She shuddered and drew her skirts closer about her
+ample figure, lest haply some unclean member of the
+proletariat, passing by, should brush advertently against
+them.</p>
+
+<p>“I think,” said Miss Chichester, “that some one
+ought to speak to Mr. Farrar. I don’t believe he
+really knows how objectionable his theories are.”</p>
+
+<p>“Good idea!” exclaimed Barry. “I’ll speak to him
+myself. He’ll listen to me. The thing has got to
+be stopped before some of those people actually intrude
+themselves into our pews. There isn’t one of
+them——” Barry stopped suddenly. A vision of the
+fascinating face and trim figure of the woman of Factory
+Hill had flashed into his mind.</p>
+
+<p>“What is it, Barry?” inquired Miss Chichester in
+apparent alarm.</p>
+
+<p>“I was just thinking,” replied Barry, hesitatingly,
+“that there might be exceptions—exceptions, you
+know.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mrs. Bradley, for instance?” asked Miss Chichester.</p>
+
+<p>“Why,” responded Barry, “I don’t think Mrs. Bradley
+would be what you might call really objectionable.”</p>
+
+<p>“And who is Mrs. Bradley?” inquired Mrs. Tracy.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh,” replied Westgate, “she’s one of Barry’s discoveries
+in humble life.”</p>
+
+<p>“Is she the one who lost the lawsuit?” inquired
+Ruth.</p>
+
+<p>“The very one,” answered Westgate. “I shall not
+soon forget how you took me to task for my part in
+that case.”</p>
+
+<p>“I did think,” responded Ruth, “that it was a shame
+to send her out of court empty-handed. And I think<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_80"></a>[80]</span>
+so still, begging Barry’s pardon for expressing myself
+so forcibly in his presence.”</p>
+
+<p>“You can’t hurt my feelings, Ruth,” exclaimed
+Barry. “Phil did his duty. And I must say that the
+woman behaved very decently about it afterward.”</p>
+
+<p>“So decently,” added Westgate, “that Barry went
+up the other day to make her a gift. Tell the ladies
+about that adventure, Barry.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I know all about it,” exclaimed Miss Chichester.
+“Barry told me about it the same evening.”</p>
+
+<p>“But we don’t know,” said Ruth. “What happened,
+Barry?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why,” replied Barry, “I went up, as Phil says, to
+make her a gift of a little money, four hundred dollars,
+to be exact. We usually make a gift to widows of our
+employees. And, would you believe me, the woman
+declined to accept it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Remarkable!” exclaimed Mrs. Tracy.</p>
+
+<p>“It’s true,” continued Barry. “But I’m going up
+again before long to try to persuade her to change her
+mind. I—I really think she needs the money.”</p>
+
+<p>“And Barry’s going to take me with him. Aren’t
+you, Barry?” broke in Miss Chichester.</p>
+
+<p>“Why, I suppose so,” replied Barry, “if you still
+want to go.”</p>
+
+<p>“Indeed, I want to go.”</p>
+
+<p>Then Mrs. Tracy inquired: “Is she the woman who
+is so irreligious? has no use for the Church? and
+wouldn’t have a preacher at her husband’s funeral?”</p>
+
+<p>“She’s the one,” replied Westgate.</p>
+
+<p>“Then I think,” said Mrs. Tracy, turning to Barry,
+“that you might find better use for your money. Why
+don’t you give it to religious people who are in want;
+people of our own church?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why,” responded Barry, “I think there’s a fair
+chance of getting her into the church. I spoke to
+Farrar about her and he’s going to see what he can do
+with her in a religious way.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_81"></a>[81]</span></p>
+
+<p>“It seems to me, Barry,” said Ruth mischievously,
+“that you’re very much interested in the handsome
+Mrs. Bradley.”</p>
+
+<p>This time Miss Chichester responded for Barry.
+“He is, Ruth; but purely in a sociological way. He
+hasn’t the faintest idea of becoming unduly impressed
+by her beauty. Have you, Barry?”</p>
+
+<p>“She’s a deucedly handsome woman,” replied Barry.</p>
+
+<p>“Handsome or not,” said Mrs. Tracy, “I don’t think
+such persons should be encouraged and made much of.
+Mr. Farrar is certainly making a very serious mistake
+when he caters to the lower classes. Why, if he had
+his way, there’d be no exclusiveness in the church at
+all.”</p>
+
+<p>“Indeed there wouldn’t,” replied Ruth heartily.</p>
+
+<p>“Right you both are!” exclaimed Barry. “That is
+as—as a rule. Every rule has its exceptions, you
+know.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well,” added Mrs. Tracy, moving toward her car,
+“don’t let’s talk about it any more. It doesn’t leave a
+good taste in the mouth. You’ll ride up with us, won’t
+you, Philip, and have luncheon? No? Then give my
+love to your mother and tell her I’m coming over to
+see her to-morrow afternoon. Come, Ruth!”</p>
+
+<p>She entered her car, assisted by Westgate, but her
+daughter hesitated.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ve a mind,” she said, “to walk up the hill with
+Philip; it’s such a beautiful day. I’ll be home long
+before luncheon time, mother.”</p>
+
+<p>“A very wise suggestion,” remarked Westgate, “and
+one which I shall be delighted to adopt.”</p>
+
+<p>“What a happy thought!” exclaimed Miss Chichester.
+“We’ll do that too, won’t we, Barry?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why,” said Barry, “I thought of going down-town
+for a little while before luncheon. I want to slip into
+the office and look at something.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, Barry! And it’s such a beautiful day!”</p>
+
+<p>Miss Chichester looked up at him pleadingly.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_82"></a>[82]</span></p>
+
+<p>“I know, but this is really a matter I ought to attend
+to.”</p>
+
+<p>“You can go down early to-morrow morning and
+attend to it. I shall be so disappointed if you don’t
+walk up with me. And stop and have luncheon with
+us. Do! Father is so fond of discussing politics with
+you.”</p>
+
+<p>“Thank you, Jane. But it’s out of the question for
+me to stop to luncheon. It really is.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then walk up with me, anyway.”</p>
+
+<p>“All right! I’ll do that.”</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Tracy was already moving homeward in her
+luxuriously appointed car, and Ruth and her lover had
+started slowly up the walk. His eyes were alight and
+his cheeks aglow with pleasant anticipation. To walk
+a mile with Ruth Tracy through the invigorating air
+of a beautiful September noonday was a privilege that
+any man might covet, much more a man in whose heart
+she filled so large and so queenly a place as she did in
+Philip Westgate’s.</p>
+
+<p>But no sooner were they on their way than recurrence
+was had to the subject of the morning sermon.</p>
+
+<p>“I like Mr. Farrar,” said Westgate. “I believe he
+intends to say and do the right thing. But he has permitted
+himself, by reason of his sympathy with toiling
+humanity, to be led off into strange paths.”</p>
+
+<p>“I like him too,” responded Ruth. “And I can’t help
+feeling that he’s on the right track. I don’t believe
+there’s any other way than the one he suggests to
+evangelize the working people. Just think what he’s
+done already. Did you ever see more persons of all
+kinds coming to the services at Christ Church than he
+is drawing there now?”</p>
+
+<p>“No; but big congregations do not necessarily make
+the Church prosperous, nor advance the cause of religion.
+These people come because it pleases them to hear attacks
+made on the rich, and commendation given to the
+poor. It is simply an expression of class consciousness<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_83"></a>[83]</span>
+with them. They have no religious motive in
+coming.”</p>
+
+<p>“But how else are you going to get them at all under
+the influence of the Church? Here I’ve been doing
+guild work for years. I’ve distributed I don’t know
+how many bushels of food and loads of outgrown garments
+to the poor; and how many people do you suppose
+I’ve been able to bring into the Church by doing
+it? Just four. I counted them up yesterday. I tell
+you, Phil, these people will not be bribed into accepting
+religion. What they want, as Mr. Farrar explained, is
+recognition, not charity. When they get that we’ll get
+them into the Church. The Church needs new life,
+and Mr. Farrar has chosen the only way to supply it.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m afraid he’s putting into it more discord than
+life. I can’t believe that the pulpit is the place from
+which to propound doctrines of social and political
+economy. And there are many in Christ Church that
+are not only like-minded with me, but who resent the
+rector’s attitude far more than I do.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s because you’re all of you behind the times.
+Because you’re over conservative, just as mother is;
+just as all these people are who have more than enough
+for themselves, and can’t begin to appreciate the desires
+and struggles and needs of the poor.”</p>
+
+<p>Westgate’s patience was ebbing. He felt that the
+girl was taking an entirely unreasonable attitude.</p>
+
+<p>“Ruth,” he said, “you are losing your head over this
+thing. You are being carried away by your sympathies
+and by this man’s plausible appeal. You don’t
+detect the fallacies in his position. You are not exercising
+your judgment.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh,” she replied, “I know my own mind, and I’ve
+thought it all out, and I’ve read, and I’ve investigated
+on my own account, and I’ve come to the conclusion
+that if all these dreadful social ills, and this degrading
+and unremitting toil, and this hopeless poverty are ever
+to be done away with, the Church must be the leader<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_84"></a>[84]</span>
+in the movement to abolish them. There’s no earthly
+power or influence that can accomplish the task unaided
+by the power and influence of the Church. Oh, I know
+that Mr. Farrar is going about the work in the right
+way, and I know that in the end his work will produce
+splendid results.”</p>
+
+<p>She paused, half out of breath, wondering a little at
+her own temerity, and, with a look partly of defiance,
+partly of anxiety, she glanced up into her lover’s face.
+He was plainly distressed. He felt that their views
+were so utterly divergent that the discussion could not
+be continued without endangering the harmony that
+should prevail between them. Yet it was hard to hold
+his peace and permit this girl with whom he was so
+profoundly in love, whose future was to be so irrevocably
+bound up in his, to enter on a course of which
+both his conscience and his judgment so heartily disapproved.</p>
+
+<p>“I’m sorry,” he said after a moment’s pause, “more
+sorry than I can tell you, that we don’t agree in this
+matter. Unless Mr. Farrar adopts a complete change
+of policy, I can see serious trouble ahead. And when
+that trouble comes I should like to have you in harmony
+with me.”</p>
+
+<p>“And I should like to be in harmony with you,
+Philip; I should like it dearly; but I can’t afford to
+stifle my conscience and ignore my reason—not even
+for you.”</p>
+
+<p>It was plain that her mind was made up, and that
+neither argument, appeal nor entreaty would move her
+from the path on which she had set out.</p>
+
+<p>“Well,” said Westgate, “don’t let’s talk about it any
+more now. The crisis hasn’t come yet. Maybe it
+won’t come. I hope to heaven it won’t! At any rate
+there’s no use to-day in our borrowing trouble for to-morrow.”</p>
+
+<p>They walked on in the mild September sunlight, up
+the hill, by the pleasant streets that bordered on<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_85"></a>[85]</span>
+Fountain Park, past homes of ease and luxury, until
+Ruth’s own home was reached. But a reserve had
+fallen on them. The first shadow had drifted across
+their common path and lay impalpably about them.
+Could it be possible that so slight a shadow as this,
+deepening and darkening, would eventually so blind
+their eyes that, unseen each by the other, they would
+go stumbling and alone, by cruelly divergent paths,
+toward unknown goals as far apart as the antipodes of
+eternity?</p>
+
+<p>This was the thought and fear that hugged Westgate’s
+mind as he strolled back down the hill that
+day to his mother’s home in the city. And, as he
+walked, the glory of the day was obscured. Gray
+clouds dragged their unwelcome bulk across the sun,
+a chill and hostile wind set the shadowed leaves of the
+trees to trembling and sighing, and the gloom that forebodes
+the coming storm settled down upon the earth.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_86"></a>[86]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI<br>
+<small>THE VESTRY OBJECTS</small></h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>The vestry of Christ Church was a conservative
+body. Not ultra-conservative, but reasonably so; the
+conservatism that might be expected of successful business
+men. Nor was it an overly religious body. Some
+of its members were not, never had been, and never
+expected to be communicants of the Church. But, as
+a whole, it was unquestionably and sincerely devoted
+to the welfare of Christ Church. Possibly the material
+welfare of the church loomed larger in the eyes of these
+gentlemen than did its spiritual interests. Be that as
+it may, they left nothing undone which, in their judgment,
+it was desirable to do to promote the prosperity
+of the church of which they were the governing body.
+They had this purpose in mind when they called the
+Reverend Robert Bruce Farrar to be their rector.
+They felt that they were acting with wisdom and foresight.
+He was certainly a rising young man. He was
+idolized by the people to whom he had ministered, and
+he came with a splendid recommendation from the
+bishop of his diocese. He was understood to be fairly
+liberal in his social views, but he had, as yet, developed
+no dangerous tendencies; and it was thought that, in
+his new environment, there could be no possibility of
+such development. Since the day of his installation,
+however, the minds of many of the members of the
+vestry had undergone a gradual change concerning him.
+They no longer felt that he was quite safe. And to
+that feeling the sermons that he had been preaching
+of late had given a decided impetus. It is true that, up
+to this time, there had been no serious or open differences<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_87"></a>[87]</span>
+between the rector and his vestry. But it was
+plainly apparent, both to him and to them, that the
+day was fast approaching when such differences would
+become acutely developed unless either he changed
+his course or they changed their opinions. Certain of
+the vestrymen, in their consultations with each other,
+on the street, at the club, or in their homes, had deprecated,
+in rather strong language, the social theories
+of the rector, and had suggested that it was about time
+to call a halt. But nothing had been done. Then
+came the sermon of Sunday, with its strange and
+radical plea for social equality in the church, and what
+had been merely a thought in the minds, or a suggestion
+on the tongues, of certain members of the vestry,
+suddenly developed into a desire for action. The man
+had taken the bit in his teeth and was trying to run
+away with them. It was necessary that something
+should be done.</p>
+
+<p>The regular monthly meeting of the vestry was to
+be held on the Friday evening following the Sunday
+on which the objectionable sermon had been preached,
+and it was agreed, among those who protested, that
+this would be an opportune time to voice their protest,
+and express their determination, and reach, if possible,
+some kind of an understanding as to the future. Nor
+was the Reverend Mr. Farrar so dull of comprehension
+that he failed to anticipate that there might be expressions
+of opinion at the meeting adverse to his views
+and policy. Indeed, he set out deliberately to invite
+such expressions of opinion, if there were any members
+of the vestry who disagreed with him. He felt
+that there must be no longer any evasion or paltering
+on either side; that, if necessary, armed neutrality must
+give way to active warfare; that a crisis had been
+reached beyond which Christ Church would advance in
+accordance with her God-given privilege, or else recede,
+disintegrate, and be lost. The stage was surely set for
+dramatic developments.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_88"></a>[88]</span></p>
+
+<p>The meeting was to be held, as usual, in the rector’s
+study, after the mid-week evening service. Judge
+Bosworth, the senior warden, was the first to arrive.
+He was followed closely by Westgate. While they
+were awaiting the coming of the others there was
+some casual conversation on different topics, but it
+was marked by an air of restraint of which all three
+men were aware. Then, in rapid succession, the remaining
+members of the vestry came in—all but old
+Mr. Ray, who was ill and unable to leave his house.</p>
+
+<p>They knelt with due devotion while brief prayers
+were read, and then the usual order of business was
+taken up. The treasurer’s report was made and commented
+on, and other matters of more or less importance
+to the parish were considered and disposed of.</p>
+
+<p>When the order of “new business” was reached, the
+rector said:</p>
+
+<p>“There is a matter, gentlemen, on which I desire to
+have your judgment, and, if possible, your favorable
+action. You have doubtless observed the increased
+attendance on our services by people of the laboring
+class. I am convinced that it is among these people,
+during the next few years, that our work must largely
+be done. We must break down the indifference, the
+prejudice, the open antagonism which so many of
+them manifest, not wholly without reason, toward the
+Church. If we extend to them a fitting welcome, and
+if we properly provide for them, I have no doubt they
+will continue to come to us in increasingly large
+numbers, to their own spiritual benefit, and to the great
+strengthening of the Church. It is plain that we cannot
+accommodate them under our present system by which
+we rent pews for the exclusive use of our several
+families. It is my recommendation, therefore, and my
+hearty desire, that the renting system shall be abolished,
+and that all pews shall be open freely to all worshipers.
+It is for you to act on the recommendation.”</p>
+
+<p>For a moment no one spoke. The proposition was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_89"></a>[89]</span>
+too startling, too revolutionary, to be replied to at once.
+The parishioners of Christ Church had occupied exclusive
+pews for two generations and more. They had
+come to consider them as much their private property
+as were their own dining-rooms, or their front porches.
+How could this vestry shatter, in a night, the traditions
+of years? It was a foregone conclusion that the
+rector’s recommendation would meet with disapproval—and
+it did. Mr. Hughes, capitalist, was the first to
+express his dissent.</p>
+
+<p>“I, for one,” he said, “am opposed to it. It would
+deprive us of a fixed income. It would revolutionize
+the policy and the customs of the church in this respect.
+I do not believe the bulk of our pewholders would
+ever consent to it. I, myself, would be entirely unwilling
+to relinquish my right to the exclusive use of a
+pew. I am ready to pay for one, and I do pay for it,
+and when I pay for it I propose to reserve the right to
+say who shall sit in it.”</p>
+
+<p>“I appreciate your point of view, Mr. Hughes,”
+replied the rector; “but I feel that we must look at
+the matter from a broader standpoint. Do we want
+these people to worship with us or do we not? If we
+do, it is plain that we must provide for them. They,
+themselves, feel that it is something of an intrusion
+for them to occupy pews set apart for the exclusive use
+of others. Many of them cannot afford even to pay
+rentals for sittings; and, if they could, we have not the
+vacant sittings for them. What shall we do with
+them? Shall we give them to understand that they
+are unwelcome, or shall we admit them to the privileges
+of Christ Church on an equal footing with ourselves?
+The problem is yours, gentlemen.”</p>
+
+<p>“We might,” suggested Rapalje, engaged in real
+estate and insurance, “provide a certain section of the
+church in the rear to accommodate them, moving our
+own people farther to the front, and doubling up in the
+occupancy of pews, if necessary.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_90"></a>[90]</span></p>
+
+<p>“That, in my judgment,” replied the rector, “would
+only be an affront to them. They would not accept
+discrimination of that kind. It would be equivalent to
+saying to them that the Church reserves the ‘chief
+seats’ for the rich; that the rear pews are good enough
+for the poor. If we say that to them they will leave
+us, without doubt. It is because of such an attitude on
+our part that the poor have been lost to us for so many
+years.”</p>
+
+<p>Then Colonel Boston, president of the S. E. &amp; W.
+Railroad, his patience nearly exhausted, spoke up:</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I, for one, am willing to lose them. I don’t
+see why we should be called upon to house the rabble
+from Factory Hill. They have churches nearer their
+homes, run by their own kind, with preachers of their
+own sort. Let them go there. I don’t propose, when
+I come to church, to hunt for a vacant seat somewhere,
+and push myself into it; and I’m utterly opposed to
+having my wife and daughter crowded and elbowed in
+their pew by all kinds of people. I simply won’t stand
+for it.”</p>
+
+<p>The rector was still calm and deliberate, but tremendously
+in earnest, as he replied:</p>
+
+<p>“You can close the doors of your church in the faces
+of God’s poor if you wish, gentlemen. They will not
+come if they find they’re not wanted; you can rest assured
+of that. But the moment you refuse to welcome
+them, the moment you make it openly manifest that
+ours is a church exclusively for the rich and the well-to-do,
+that moment you deprive the Church of its life
+and soul, you separate it wholly from Jesus Christ,
+whose message and whose mission was primarily to the
+humble and the poor.”</p>
+
+<p>Judge Bosworth sought to pour oil on the waters
+which were becoming dangerously troubled.</p>
+
+<p>“Would not the proper solution of this whole question,”
+he asked, “be the founding and support of a mission
+chapel for these people in their own neighborhood?<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_91"></a>[91]</span>
+We have such a chapel on the east side, why not establish
+one on Factory Hill? I would be glad to contribute
+for such a purpose.”</p>
+
+<p>“It would not solve the difficulty, Judge,” responded
+the rector. “These people do not want missions and
+chapels when they are within walking distance of the
+church itself. The thing implies exactly the same sort
+of discrimination as would be implied by herding them
+in rear pews. They don’t want to be accommodated,
+they don’t want to be patronized, they want to be
+recognized as having equal rights with us in the House
+of God. And until we are willing to accord to them
+that recognition we may as well let them alone, for we
+shall never be able to hold them.”</p>
+
+<p>Again the railroad magnate broke in. His patience,
+which was already running low when he first spoke,
+appeared now to be entirely exhausted.</p>
+
+<p>“Then I say let them alone!” he exclaimed. “I’m
+sick and tired of this everlasting kow-towing to a class
+of people who are never satisfied with what’s being
+done for them.”</p>
+
+<p>To this last explosion the rector paid no heed. He
+looked around over the persons assembled in the room.
+“I would like to hear,” he said, “from other gentlemen
+of the vestry. If most of you are opposed to the
+proposition, I will not press it at this time; but I will
+begin a campaign of education among the people of the
+parish, so that when it again comes before you, it will
+come backed by the force of public opinion. What is
+your thought in the matter, Mr. Cochran?”</p>
+
+<p>“I quite agree with Mr. Hughes and Colonel Boston,”
+replied Mr. Cochran. “I think it would be extremely
+unwise to abolish our system of rentals.”</p>
+
+<p>“And what is your opinion, Mr. Emberly?”</p>
+
+<p>“I am heartily in favor of adopting the suggestion
+of the rector,” was Emberly’s answer.</p>
+
+<p>Nobody was surprised at Emberly. He always sided
+with the rector. But his opinion carried no great<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_92"></a>[92]</span>
+weight. He contributed sparsely, from a lean purse,
+for the support of the Church. How could he be expected
+to have a leading voice in her councils?</p>
+
+<p>Probably Mr. Hazzard, junior warden, and superintendent
+of the Sunday-school, would also have agreed
+with the rector if his opinion had been asked; but,
+before he could be interrogated, Westgate interrupted.</p>
+
+<p>“It seems to me,” he said, “to be quite futile to discuss
+this question at this time. Our pews are rented
+until Easter Monday of next year, and it is now only
+September. We cannot abrogate the contracts already
+made. I suggest, therefore, that we postpone discussion
+of the matter until some future meeting. In the
+meantime, the parish as a whole will have opportunity
+to consider it, and we can take it up later if it should
+be deemed advisable to do so.”</p>
+
+<p>“An excellent suggestion!” exclaimed Mr. Hughes.</p>
+
+<p>“I am quite willing to yield to Mr. Westgate’s
+judgment,” said the rector.</p>
+
+<p>“But,” added Mr. Hughes, “there is another matter
+closely related to the one just under discussion, about
+which I desire to speak. I mean no disrespect, and I
+have no ill-will toward Mr. Farrar. But there has been
+much criticism in the parish concerning the sermons he
+has been preaching to us of late, especially the one of
+last Sunday morning. It is needless for me to specify
+in what manner it was objectionable. We feel that a
+continuance of such sermons will seriously affect, if not
+entirely disrupt, the church. It has occurred to me,
+therefore, that if the vestry, as a body, should inform
+the rector of the feeling in the parish, and request him
+to discontinue the advocacy of his favorite sociological
+doctrines from the pulpit, he would probably heed the request,
+and thus save the church from possible disaster.”</p>
+
+<p>The rector looked into the eyes of his critic without
+flinching. Moreover, there was in his own eyes a light
+that might or might not have been a signal of contempt
+and defiance.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_93"></a>[93]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Do you really mean that, Mr. Hughes?” he asked.</p>
+
+<p>“I am very much in earnest,” was the reply. “And
+I believe I express the feeling of a majority of the
+members of the vestry. How is it, gentlemen? Am I
+right?”</p>
+
+<p>He looked around on the men in the room, and all
+save two of them nodded their heads or spoke in approval.
+The rector noted their attitude, but neither in
+his voice nor manner did he display surprise, disappointment
+or resentment.</p>
+
+<p>“Then let me tell you,” he said quietly, “that any
+backward movement on my part is entirely out of the
+question. I feel that I am preaching Christ’s gospel,
+and that His message is to the poor as well as to the
+rich. To-day, so far as material things are concerned,
+the poor are poor because they are not receiving their
+just share of the wealth which they produce. Some
+day all this will be changed. There will be economic
+justice, and with economic justice will come social
+equality. There will be no rich, no poor, no aristocracy,
+no proletariat. I shall welcome that day. But, so far
+as things spiritual are concerned, that day dawned
+when Jesus Christ was born. In His religion there
+is no room for distinction between the classes. The
+Church which He founded, and its house of worship,
+should be open, freely and always, without distinction
+of any kind, to ‘all sorts and conditions of
+men.’”</p>
+
+<p>“Good!” exclaimed Emberly.</p>
+
+<p>The rector paid no heed to the interruption, but
+went on:</p>
+
+<p>“And so long as I am rector of Christ Church I shall
+endeavor to break down, and to keep down within it,
+all distinctions between rich and poor, and between
+class and class. That is why I have been urging you
+gentlemen of wealth to blot out social differences in the
+House of God. I want the humblest parishioner to feel
+that he has an equal right with any of us to the use and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_94"></a>[94]</span>
+benefit and enjoyment of Christ Church. It is only
+because you stand aloof and will not welcome him on
+equal terms that he does not feel so now. I hope that,
+eventually, your attitude will be changed; and, in that
+hope, I shall keep on inviting the poor to come to us,
+and I shall continue to preach the abolition of social
+distinctions in the Church.”</p>
+
+<p>It is not probable that the Reverend Mr. Farrar had
+any expectation of bringing the members of the vestry,
+offhand, to the acceptance of his views. If he had, it
+needed only a glance at their faces to show him that
+his words had had no convincing effect. Of course
+Emberly and Hazzard, both of whom had been with
+him from the beginning, showed marked signs of approval;
+but as to the others, their opposition to his
+theories appeared only to have become accentuated by
+his speech.</p>
+
+<p>“That sounds to me,” said the capitalist, “very much
+like socialism. I hope we are not going to have that
+fallacious and sinister doctrine preached to us, also,
+from the pulpit of Christ Church. Do I understand,
+Mr. Farrar, that you are a socialist?”</p>
+
+<p>“A Christian socialist, yes,” was the answer. “So
+far as socialism is in accord with the articles of our religion,
+with the canons of our Church, and with the
+message of Jesus Christ, I am a socialist. I believe,
+gentlemen, that socialism is coming, and that eventually
+it will be the policy of the state. It is foolish to blind
+our eyes to it. As it exists to-day there is much in its
+theory and propaganda that is anti-Christian. Some of
+its leaders are distinctly irreligious. Some of them
+are bitterly antagonistic to the Church. If such men
+as these are permitted to dominate the socialism of
+the future, religion and Christian morals will be in
+jeopardy. There is only one power on earth that
+can rescue society from such an evil, and that is the
+power of the Church. If the Church will but recognize
+socialism for the good that is in it; help to conserve<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_95"></a>[95]</span>
+its vital principles and to rob it of its evil
+excrescences, it will, in my judgment, have performed
+a mighty service for humanity. If, then, the Church
+will go still farther, and help it on, thus reformed, to
+political and economic victory, we shall carry out the
+principles for which Christ contended. I shall make it
+my business, gentlemen, both in the pulpit and out of
+it, to urge that policy upon the Church, and upon all
+Christian people. I believe, Mr. Hughes, that I have
+answered your question.”</p>
+
+<p>He had answered it, indeed. But his answer was
+anything but comforting or satisfying to the greater
+part of the gentlemen who sat around him. Colonel
+Boston was especially indignant.</p>
+
+<p>“Socialism,” he declared, growing red in the face,
+“is a pernicious doctrine; and it doesn’t help it any to
+tack the word Christian to it. There always have
+been class distinctions in the world, and there always
+will be. It’s human nature. There always have been
+men of brains and energy and principle who have outraced
+and outranked their fellows, and there always will
+be. You can no more reduce living men to a dead level
+of equality in everything, or in anything, than you can
+make every blade of grass to grow exactly like every
+other blade. The thing is simply abhorrent to nature.
+I’m opposed to socialism in any form, under any name.
+And, so far as I have any influence, it shall not be
+preached from the pulpit of Christ Church.”</p>
+
+<p>Before the rector could reply, or any one else could
+break into the discussion, Mr. Claybank, a retired merchant,
+rose to his feet and drew a folded paper from
+his pocket.</p>
+
+<p>“Apropos of Colonel Boston’s remarks,” he said,
+“and in line with the thought so well expressed by
+Mr. Hughes in opening the discussion, and after consultation
+with one or two of my fellow-vestrymen, I
+have prepared a resolution which I desire to offer.”</p>
+
+<p>He adjusted his eye-glasses with nervous haste, unfolded<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_96"></a>[96]</span>
+the paper with trembling fingers, cleared his
+throat and began to read.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+
+<p>“<span class="smcap">Resolved</span> that the vestry of Christ Church view
+with disapproval and alarm the tendency toward socialism
+and its dangerous theories as manifested in the
+recent sermons of our rector, the Reverend Mr. Farrar.
+We regard those theories as harmful to religion and
+destructive to society; and it is our request that our
+rector discontinue the preaching of such sermons, and
+confine himself hereafter to such doctrines as are commonly
+accepted by the Church, and taught in the
+Christian religion.”</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Before Claybank had scarcely finished reading, Mr.
+Hughes was on his feet.</p>
+
+<p>“If the senior warden will take the chair,” he said,
+“I will move the adoption of this resolution.”</p>
+
+<p>But, before the senior warden could put the question,
+or even assume charge of the meeting, Westgate broke
+in:</p>
+
+<p>“Gentlemen,” he exclaimed, “I hope this resolution
+will not be adopted nor put to vote. I was not consulted
+in its preparation or I should have disapproved
+of it. I am as heartily opposed to socialism as any man
+here. I have no sympathy even with Christian socialism.
+I regret that our rector sees fit to advocate it.
+But we should not be hasty in putting on him the indignity
+implied in that resolution. There is a better
+way out. We should approach him in a friendly, not
+in a hostile spirit. We should first reason together. I,
+myself, will undertake, in a half hour’s friendly talk
+with him, to show him the utter fallacy of the whole
+socialistic creed. It is a mistake to pounce upon him
+suddenly in this fashion. I beg that the gentleman
+will withdraw his resolution.”</p>
+
+<p>But the Reverend Mr. Farrar did not wait for the
+resolution to be withdrawn. Westgate’s last word was
+hardly out of his mouth before the rector was on his
+feet.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_97"></a>[97]</span></p>
+
+<p>“I very deeply appreciate,” he said, “the kind
+thought of Mr. Westgate. I shall be glad to discuss
+with him, at any time, the questions that have been
+raised here to-night. But I do not ask for the withdrawal
+of the resolution. If there is to be a breach
+between my vestry and me, it may as well come now
+as later. If my appeals to the rich and my concern for
+the poor have brought me into disrepute with this body,
+the situation is not likely to grow less acute. For I
+say to you plainly that, even if you were to adopt this
+resolution by unanimous vote, I should continue to
+preach not only the straight, but the whole gospel of
+Christ. And it is a gospel that demands the abolition
+of classes, the recognition of the humble, the placing
+of the toiler, no matter what the character of his toil,
+on the same social plane with you in every phase of the
+life of the Church. If you knew these people as I do, if
+you understood them as I do, if you loved them as I
+do, you would bid me Godspeed in my work. And it is
+because I want you to know them and love them and
+honor them that I shall not cease to preach as I have
+done, to you and to them, until my object in so preaching
+shall have been fully accomplished. So, gentlemen,
+if you choose to throw down the gauntlet, I shall
+pick it up; and God shall stand as judge between us.”</p>
+
+<p>Claybank, who was still on his feet, and who was
+still holding his eye-glasses in one trembling hand, and
+his resolution in the other, broke in immediately.</p>
+
+<p>“In deference to Mr. Westgate,” he said, “for whose
+judgment I have great respect, I will withdraw my
+resolution. But I want to give notice now, that if
+there is a continuance, as has been threatened, of the
+kind of sermons we have been having of late, I shall,
+at the next meeting of the vestry, offer a resolution
+demanding the immediate resignation of the Reverend
+Mr. Farrar as rector of Christ Church.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Chairman, I protest against this attempt to
+muzzle a true servant of Christ!”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_98"></a>[98]</span></p>
+
+<p>It was Hazzard who spoke. He was indignant to
+the core.</p>
+
+<p>“Then let him preach Christianity and not socialism,”
+retorted Mr. Claybank.</p>
+
+<p>“You—you don’t know what Christianity is!”
+shouted Emberly.</p>
+
+<p>“I know what it isn’t!” roared Colonel Boston.
+“It isn’t the deification of the rabble!”</p>
+
+<p>By this time every man in the room was on his feet.
+A half-dozen voices were struggling to be heard. A
+most unchristian scene was on the verge of enactment.
+It was then that Westgate, quick-witted and
+masterful, saved the day for decency.</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Chairman,” he shouted, “if there is no further
+proper business to come before the meeting, I move
+you, in the name of Christian charity, that we do now
+adjourn.”</p>
+
+<p>The motion was put and carried. The wrangling
+ceased. The gentlemen of the vestry said good-night
+to the rector, and passed out into the street. But the
+fires of opposition had not been quenched. They only
+awaited encouragement from the first hostile breeze to
+blaze up anew.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_99"></a>[99]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII<br>
+<small>THE RECTOR’S WIFE</small></h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>The deliberations of boards in control of private
+corporations are not, as a rule, presumed to be disclosed
+to the public. This rule holds especially good when applied
+to vestries of churches. It is not, usually, either
+necessary or wise that the whole body of parishioners
+should be taken into the confidence of the vestry.
+There are so many things that can better be discussed
+and settled by a small, representative body of men,
+with power to act, than by the parish at large. It
+was, of course, tacitly understood by the members of
+the vestry that nothing should be said, outside their
+own membership, concerning the clash with the rector
+on the night of the vestry meeting. Nevertheless, the
+entire incident, with many variations and exaggerations,
+had become public property within twenty-four
+hours after its occurrence. It is a moral impossibility
+to keep such things hid. The very light of the next
+day reveals them. Moreover, most of the vestrymen
+were married. Their wives were as deeply interested
+as they in all matters pertaining to the Church. It is a
+man of extraordinary firmness who can hold back from
+an anxious and devoted wife legitimate information on
+a subject which is close to her heart.</p>
+
+<p>At any rate, before sundown the next day, the whole
+parish was buzzing with the news of the conflict at the
+vestry meeting. Of course the people of the parish
+were divided in their opinions. The greater part of
+them, comprising nearly all of the rich and well-to-do,
+were strenuously opposed not only to the policy of free
+pews, but also to the idea of meeting the inferior classes<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_100"></a>[100]</span>
+on terms of social equality in any of the affairs of the
+Church. They were quite willing, as they had always
+been, to give liberally to the charities of the Church,
+and to uphold its institutional life and activities to the
+best of their ability; but when it came to a matter of
+social recognition, they drew the line, and they drew it
+straight.</p>
+
+<p>It was, broadly speaking, only among the less prosperous
+persons in the parish that those were found who
+sided warmly with the rector. Those who were called
+“advanced,” “progressive,” “visionary,” those with
+deep sympathies and humanitarian impulses, those with
+new theories of government, and a passionate desire to
+witness, if not to assist in, the overturning of the social
+order; these were the ones who, together with nearly
+all of the poor, espoused heartily the cause of the
+rector, and as heartily condemned the reactionary
+attitude of the vestry.</p>
+
+<p>It was early in the afternoon of Saturday that the
+news reached Miss Chichester, or rather that Miss
+Chichester overtook the news. There was seldom
+anything in the way of church gossip or a parish sensation
+that did not early reach the ears of Miss Chichester
+on its way through the community. And this
+vestry incident was a particularly attractive, not to say
+sensational bit of gossip. Miss Chichester could not
+rest with the exhilarating burden of it on her mind.
+She was eaten up with curiosity to know how the
+Reverend Mr. Farrar was taking the blunt criticism
+that, according to her informant, had been hurled at
+his head by certain members of the vestry, and how
+Mrs. Farrar was bearing up under the indignities that
+had been heaped upon her husband. Naturally and
+logically the most appropriate way of satisfying her
+curiosity would be to call at the rectory. As she was
+active and diligent in church work there were plenty
+of excuses for such a call. She gowned herself becomingly
+and sallied forth. At the corner of the street<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_101"></a>[101]</span>
+leading to the rectory she met Barry Malleson. He
+also was in full afternoon dress.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, Barry!” she exclaimed, “have you heard the
+news?”</p>
+
+<p>“What news?” he inquired.</p>
+
+<p>“About the awful time they had at the vestry meeting
+last night.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I heard about it. I consider it highly improper
+to have such a rumpus as that in a vestry meeting.
+I consider it time for some one with brains and
+judgment to interfere. I thought I’d better see what
+I could do. I’m just on my way up now to call on
+Farrar and try to get the thing settled.”</p>
+
+<p>“How perfectly lovely of you! I was going up
+there too. I wanted to see Mr. Farrar about the
+Doncaster family. We’ll go up together.”</p>
+
+<p>“No; I won’t interfere with your call. My errand’ll
+keep. I’ll go some other day.”</p>
+
+<p>“Indeed, you won’t! You’ll go now. I’ll not be a
+bit in your way.”</p>
+
+<p>“No; I’ll wait.”</p>
+
+<p>“Barry! Don’t be foolish! Come along!”</p>
+
+<p>“All right! I can tell him in a few minutes what I
+think of the situation. Then you can have him the
+rest of the afternoon.”</p>
+
+<p>“What do you think of the situation, Barry?”</p>
+
+<p>“I think it’s ridiculous!”</p>
+
+<p>“Isn’t it!”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes; Farrar’s dead wrong. I shall tell him so.”</p>
+
+<p>“How I shall enjoy hearing you tell him!”</p>
+
+<p>They were passing up the street in the shade of
+aristocratic trees beginning now to take on the flush of
+autumn. She looked up coyly and trustingly into his
+face as she walked and talked, but he was too deeply
+absorbed in the importance of his errand to give much
+heed to her patent admiration.</p>
+
+<p>It was not far to the rectory. The maid who answered
+the bell told them that Mr. Farrar was in and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_102"></a>[102]</span>
+alone. He met them in the hall and took them into
+his study.</p>
+
+<p>“Miss Chichester has an errand,” said Barry, “that
+she wishes to dispose of, and when she’s through I have
+something on my own mind that I want to talk about.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, no, Barry!” cried Miss Chichester. “You’re
+entitled to the first hearing. Your errand is so much
+more important than mine.”</p>
+
+<p>“Shall I act as umpire?” inquired the rector.</p>
+
+<p>“No,” replied Barry. “It doesn’t make much difference.
+I’ll say what I want to and get through and
+get out. Why, you know, I came up to see you about—about
+that little trouble at the vestry meeting last
+night.”</p>
+
+<p>“How did you know that there was trouble?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, it came to me pretty straight,” replied Barry.</p>
+
+<p>“Everybody knows it,” added Miss Chichester.</p>
+
+<p>“The vestry should have been more discreet,” said
+the rector. “But no matter. What is it you wish to
+say about the meeting?”</p>
+
+<p>“I want to say,” replied Barry, “that I heartily disapprove
+of disturbances of that kind in a vestry
+meeting.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m glad to hear you say so. So do I.” The
+rector smiled as he spoke, and nodded his approval.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” continued Barry. “A vestry should always
+act harmoniously, I may say unanimously. There
+should, however, be a strong hand to guide them. I’m
+inclined to stand for election to the vestry myself, next
+Easter. I think I could be of a good deal of service.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s a splendid idea,” assented Miss Chichester.
+“Barry has such excellent judgment.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes; thank you, Jane. But,” continued Barry,
+“I understand that the disturbance was brought on by
+your advocating free pews. Now, you know, Farrar,
+it would never do to have free pews in Christ Church.”</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t you think so?”</p>
+
+<p>“Of course not. Just imagine who might come and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_103"></a>[103]</span>
+sit with you. Such a fellow as Bricky Hoover, for
+instance, who works in our mill, and thinks he has a
+right to go anywhere. I tell you, Farrar, it’s impossible.
+Utterly impossible!”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m sorry you don’t approve of it.”</p>
+
+<p>“And, in a general way, don’t you know, I don’t
+approve of your attitude toward the laboring classes.
+As a prominent parishioner, a leading citizen, and as
+vice-president of the Malleson Manufacturing Company,
+I must respectfully suggest that it is—a—extremely
+inappropriate for the rector of Christ Church to join
+with the lower classes in the attack on wealth and—a—culture,
+and all those things, you know. I speak as
+a friend, Farrar. As one man of high social grade to
+another man of high social grade. You see?”</p>
+
+<p>“I understand. I’m glad to have the opinion of any
+of my parishioners on my sermons or conduct.”</p>
+
+<p>Barry felt that he was making a conquest; that the
+rector was swinging around to his views.</p>
+
+<p>“You see,” he went on, flicking an imaginary speck
+of dust, as he spoke, from the surface of an immaculate
+waistcoat, “we of the upper classes are responsible for
+the preservation and advancement in the world, of art,
+literature, beauty and, I may say, of religion; and it
+becomes our duty——”</p>
+
+<p>Here Miss Chichester interrupted him to say:</p>
+
+<p>“Excuse me, Barry; I just want to ask Mr. Farrar
+if Mrs. Farrar is at home. If she is, I would dearly
+love to have a five minutes’ chat with her.”</p>
+
+<p>“She’s at home,” was the reply; “up-stairs, I think.
+I’ll ask Stella.”</p>
+
+<p>The maid came in response to his ring, and was sent
+to inquire if Mrs. Farrar would see Miss Chichester.
+She returned in a minute to say that Mrs. Farrar would
+be delighted, if Miss Chichester wouldn’t mind going
+up-stairs to the nursery, where Mrs. Farrar was temporarily
+engaged. Of course Miss Chichester wouldn’t
+mind. It would be her first glimpse of the nursery<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_104"></a>[104]</span>
+which she had long been curious to see. She found
+Mrs. Farrar there in temporary charge of the youngest
+member of the family who had just fallen asleep.</p>
+
+<p>“What a lovely child!” exclaimed Miss Chichester
+in a whisper, bending over the crib.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, he’s a dear. He doesn’t mind in the least
+having people talk in the room when he’s asleep,” said
+Mrs. Farrar.</p>
+
+<p>“How comforting that is!” Miss Chichester took
+a chair near the window where she could look out
+across the rectory lawn to the street. “We missed
+you so at the Parish Aid Society Tuesday afternoon at
+Ruth Tracy’s. You weren’t ill, were you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, no. Mr. Farrar discovered another poor family
+up in the eight hundred block. The mother’s bedridden,
+and nothing would do but I must go up and
+see her Tuesday afternoon.”</p>
+
+<p>“How kind Mr. Farrar is to the poor. What a pity
+it is that the vestry isn’t in sympathy with him in his
+concern for the lower classes.”</p>
+
+<p>“Isn’t it? I didn’t know.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m told it isn’t. That’s what led to the trouble
+last evening.”</p>
+
+<p>“What trouble, Miss Chichester?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, the trouble at the vestry meeting. Hasn’t
+Mr. Farrar told you about it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not a word. He rarely tells me about unpleasant
+happenings; they worry me so. What was the trouble
+at the vestry meeting?”</p>
+
+<p>“Perhaps I ought not to tell you, either.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I suppose I’ll hear about it sooner or later;
+you might as well tell me.” She settled herself back
+in her chair with a sigh.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, they all got into a dreadful quarrel.”</p>
+
+<p>“Is it possible? What about?”</p>
+
+<p>“About free pews. Mr. Farrar wanted the pews
+declared free, and they all opposed him but Mr. Emberly
+and Mr. Hazzard.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_105"></a>[105]</span></p>
+
+<p>“I’m so sorry! Robert is so far ahead of the times.
+Did Mr. Westgate oppose him?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes; Mr. Westgate and Mr. Hughes, and Mr.
+Claybank——”</p>
+
+<p>“And Judge Bosworth?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, Judge Bosworth, and—oh, all of the best men
+in the vestry. Isn’t it too bad!”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s pitiful!” She sighed again, and her face grew
+a little paler and more anxious. “I hope there were
+no harsh words used, Miss Chichester. I couldn’t
+stand it to have any one speak harshly to Mr. Farrar.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, yes, I believe some very harsh words were
+used—not by your husband, my dear; he’s a gentleman.
+But they—now really, I mustn’t tell you this.”</p>
+
+<p>“But I want to know. No matter how dreadful
+it is.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, they demanded Mr. Farrar’s resignation as
+rector.”</p>
+
+<p>“Miss Chichester!”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, and then withdrew the demand. And then
+Mr. Emberly and Mr. Hazzard got very angry and said
+some dreadful things, and—— Oh, Mrs. Farrar, really
+I must not tell you any more.”</p>
+
+<p>“Go on, please; let me hear it all.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, if I must tell it; these gentlemen and Mr.
+Hughes and Colonel Boston said shocking things to
+each other, and they were going to fight——”</p>
+
+<p>“To fight! in the vestry meeting!”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, actually to fight. And Mr. Westgate and
+Mr. Farrar stepped between them and prevented it,
+and they had to adjourn the meeting before they were
+through, in order to avoid more trouble.”</p>
+
+<p>“How dreadful!”</p>
+
+<p>“Isn’t it dreadful! But you mustn’t take my word
+for it, Mrs. Farrar. I’m only telling you what I heard,
+and just as I heard it. It’s so unfortunate that all the
+best men in the vestry should be so bitterly opposed
+to Mr. Farrar.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_106"></a>[106]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Do you think they are, Miss Chichester? Do you
+really think they are unfriendly to Mr. Farrar?”</p>
+
+<p>There was an appealing tone in the woman’s voice
+that should have gone straight to Miss Chichester’s
+heart, and led her into making some effort to repair
+the havoc she had already wrought; but Miss Chichester
+was enjoying too deeply the sensation she was
+creating to take much note of the pain she was giving
+to her listener.</p>
+
+<p>“I’m afraid they are, Mrs. Farrar,” she replied.
+“I’m afraid they will make it very uncomfortable for
+Mr. Farrar if he insists on trying to carry out his
+projects. I do hope he’ll abandon them, if it’s
+necessary to do it in order to avoid trouble in the
+church.”</p>
+
+<p>The child in the crib stirred and moaned in its sleep,
+and the mother went to it and readjusted its position
+and murmured some soothing words to it, and returned
+to her chair.</p>
+
+<p>“I am so sorry,” she said.</p>
+
+<p>“Indeed, it is terrible,” assented Miss Chichester.
+“I thought I must come in and give you what little
+comfort I could. I brought Barry Malleson along,
+and he’s down-stairs with Mr. Farrar now, trying to
+prevail on him not to antagonize the vestrymen any
+more. Barry isn’t a communicant, you know, but he’s
+a man of such good judgment.”</p>
+
+<p>“Is he?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, very.”</p>
+
+<p>“I do hope Mr. Farrar will listen to him.”</p>
+
+<p>Miss Chichester rose to take her departure, but it
+was five minutes later before she actually got away,
+and when she went down-stairs Barry had already
+gone. He had not accomplished all that he had hoped
+to accomplish when he came, but he felt that he had
+made it so clear to the rector that he was on the wrong
+track that his restoration to reason and good judgment
+would necessarily soon follow.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_107"></a>[107]</span></p>
+
+<p>But, while Barry left behind him a smiling, self-confident
+and optimistic host, Miss Chichester left in her
+wake a woman on whom the shock of disclosure had
+fallen with grievous and humiliating force. She had
+feared that something of the kind might happen, but
+she had never thought that it would come like this.
+She could not quite believe that the best people in the
+parish were in direct opposition to her husband; that
+gentlemen of the vestry who had always treated her
+with such marked courtesy and consideration could be
+so openly antagonistic toward him. And if it were all
+true, in what a cruel position was she herself placed.
+By birth, breeding and social alignment she belonged
+to the cultured class. She shirked none of the duties
+of a rector’s wife, so far as her physical and mental
+ability enabled her to perform those duties. She was
+devoted to her husband, her children and her Church.
+It was true that the new, and to her strange and incomprehensible,
+ideas promulgated by her husband concerning
+the duty of the Church and its adherents toward
+the humble and the poor gave her some anxiety when
+she heard them or thought about them; but she considered
+herself so ignorant in such matters, and regarded
+him as being so wise, that she usually preferred to dismiss
+the subject from her mind rather than to dwell
+upon it to her own confusion. Up to this time his
+attitude had not interfered in any way with her Church
+activities or her social relaxations. It had caused her
+no great embarrassment, nor had it given her any particular
+concern. But now a point had been reached
+beyond which the attempted carrying out of his policy
+must inevitably reflect upon her. If Miss Chichester’s
+story was true, the situation had grown suddenly
+acute. The most prominent men of the Church
+had come out in open rebellion against her husband.
+Their wives would naturally sympathize with them and
+side with them. They belonged to the class in which
+all of her social activities had been performed, and all<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_108"></a>[108]</span>
+of her social friendships maintained. How could she
+hope to hold her position among these people and at
+the same time remain loyal to her husband? It was a
+cruel dilemma in which she had, by no fault of her
+own, been suddenly and rudely placed.</p>
+
+<p>At dinner time that evening her husband noticed
+her apparent distraction and despondency, and inquired
+of her concerning the cause of it. She successfully
+evaded his questions, and it was not until after the
+children had been put to bed that she repeated to him
+the tale that Miss Chichester had told to her that afternoon.
+He assured her that she had heard a grossly
+exaggerated account of what had actually taken place,
+but in its really material aspects he could not do otherwise
+than confirm the story. He did not consider, he
+said, that the opposition to his plans would necessarily
+lead to their suppression.</p>
+
+<p>“I may never be able,” he added, “to induce my
+vestry to act with me in these matters; nevertheless I
+shall not relax my effort to make Christ Church a
+haven for ‘all sorts and conditions of men.’”</p>
+
+<p>“I suppose you are right about it, Robert,” she replied.
+“Of course you are. I must take your judgment
+in these matters because I don’t know anything
+about them myself, and I’ve never been able to understand
+them. But it seems so sad to me, and so—so
+humiliating that it was necessary to antagonize all
+these people who have been such dear friends to us
+ever since we’ve been here.”</p>
+
+<p>“You take a narrow view of the situation, Alice.
+The question is not whether we are going to keep or
+lose friends; but it is whether I am right or wrong.
+If I am right, as I truly believe I am, then nothing, no
+opposition, no antagonism, no suffering of any kind
+should swerve me from my course. If these people are
+antagonistic, the antagonism is theirs. I have only the
+kindliest feeling toward all of them.”</p>
+
+<p>“But, Robert, it seems to me that it is so necessary<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_109"></a>[109]</span>
+to keep them friendly to us, and interested in the
+Church. What would we do without them?”</p>
+
+<p>“I want to keep them interested in the Church and
+friendly to us, and I believe I shall. But the Church
+should not be exclusively for them. They are already
+receiving all of the benefits which the Church has to
+offer, while outside there is a great multitude of the
+Churchless who are spiritually starving and dying for
+want of just such aid as I am forbidden by these vestrymen
+to hold out to them. I must choose my own
+path, and I believe my paramount duty is not to the
+comfortably situated within the Church but to the
+physically and spiritually poor without it.”</p>
+
+<p>“I know, Robert, but couldn’t we visit the poor, and
+supply their needs, and be kind and charitable to them
+in every way, and try to get them to the services and into
+the Church without taking them in as our social equals?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, Alice; that method has been tried for ages,
+and the working classes are drifting farther and in
+larger numbers away from us. If we want them in
+the Church we must welcome them there as our equals.
+There’s no other way to get them or to keep them.
+And there must be not only social equality in the
+Church, there must be a fair measure of economic
+equality outside. Our wealthy churchmen must set
+the first example of economic justice, and cease piling
+up great individual fortunes at the expense of the men
+who labor. I tell you this control of the wealth of the
+world by a few, and this control of the Church by
+those wealthy few, is so unjust and so unchristian
+that——”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, Robert, don’t! I can’t understand those arguments;
+I never could. I’ll admit that you are right.
+But what worries me is what our relations are going to
+be with these people who are so opposed to us, and who
+have been our good friends.”</p>
+
+<p>“We shall still be friendly to them.”</p>
+
+<p>“But what if they won’t be friendly to us?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_110"></a>[110]</span></p>
+
+<p>“That will be their loss; and one more assurance, to
+my mind, that we are doing the will of our Master.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s easy enough to say; but how can you manage
+to carry on the work of the Church without the
+aid of Judge Bosworth, and Mr. Claybank, and Philip
+Westgate, and all those men who have always been so
+helpful and so—so splendid in every way?”</p>
+
+<p>“You’re crossing your bridges before you get to
+them. These men have not withdrawn their help. If
+the time comes that they do, another way will be
+found to carry on the work. This is one of the least
+of the problems that confront me.”</p>
+
+<p>“But, Robert, what will I do without the friendship
+and society of Mrs. Bosworth and Mrs. Claybank and
+Philip Westgate’s mother, and all the other ladies who
+have been so perfectly lovely to me ever since I’ve been
+here? I can be good to women of another social grade,
+but I can’t associate with them, and I must have my
+friends.”</p>
+
+<p>At last her grievance and her fear had formed definite
+expression. The one was personal and the other
+was selfish. She never rose above the level of her domestic
+and social environment. She never caught even
+a glimpse of the things for which he was fighting, as
+they presented themselves to his spiritual vision. He
+tossed his head impatiently as he replied:</p>
+
+<p>“I do not think you need to borrow trouble. You
+will not be deserted on my account. But if, by any
+chance, matters should come to such a pass that you
+are socially outlawed because of my adherence to my
+duties as a Christian minister, then I trust you will accept
+the situation with fortitude, in the spirit of the
+martyrs, in order to advance the cause for which I shall
+be fighting.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s all very well for you to say, Robert. But
+you’re a man and you can go out and fight and forget.
+And I’m a woman, and I’ll have to stay at home, ostracized
+and deserted, and grieve myself to death. I was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_111"></a>[111]</span>
+never intended to be a martyr, and I can’t be! I can’t
+be!”</p>
+
+<p>“Then you shouldn’t have married a clergyman who
+believes in the sacredness of his calling.”</p>
+
+<p>It was an unkind thing for him to say, and he knew
+it the moment the words had left his lips, and he regretted
+that he had said them. He saw her face pale,
+and a hurt look come into her eyes, but she did not appear
+to be angry. He rose, crossed over to where she
+was sitting, and bent down and kissed her.</p>
+
+<p>“There, dear,” he said, “I’m sorry if I hurt you.
+We won’t talk about it any more, and we’ll hope for
+the best.”</p>
+
+<p>She laid her hand in his; but it was evident, from
+the look on her face, that the hurt remained, and that
+she found little comfort in his expression of regret.</p>
+
+<p>“I must go out now,” he added after a moment,
+“and make a sick call—Rodney McAllister, you know.
+And when I come back I’ll go over my sermon for to-morrow.”</p>
+
+<p>He got his hat, and she helped him on with his overcoat,
+and kissed him good-bye at the door, but over
+them both there was a shadow of restraint of which
+they had seldom been aware during the years of their
+married life.</p>
+
+<p>It was too bad, he thought, as he descended the steps
+of the rectory, crossed the lawn, and went down the
+pavement in the shadow of the church, that his wife
+had not the energy and the desire to join him, not only
+in his campaign for souls outside, but also in his crusade
+for righteousness within the Church. If she could only
+see beyond the circle of her daily life, if she could only
+understand and appreciate the things he stood for and
+fought for, if only she were an inspiration to him instead
+of a retarding force, with what added courage
+and enthusiasm, with what relentless perseverance and
+unconquerable energy could he not push forward to the
+accomplishment of his glorious purpose.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_112"></a>[112]</span></p>
+
+<p>Not that he intended to be disloyal to her, even in
+his remotest thought. She was charming as a woman,
+she was devoted as a wife, she was ideal as a mother,
+but—it was such a pity that she could not see the
+visions that he saw, and help him to realize them. If
+she had but the zeal and ability and view-point of Ruth
+Tracy, for instance. Ah! There was a woman who
+was created for a rector’s wife. And she was to marry
+a layman; a kind-hearted and brilliant, but conservative
+layman, who would doubtless check her aspiration
+toward the larger righteousness, and bind her with the
+chains of deadening custom. It was unfortunate; it
+was, in a way, deplorable; but it was one of those
+unpreventable situations with which only providence
+might dare to interfere. He heaved a sigh of regret,
+quickened his pace, and went forward to the accomplishment
+of his errand.</p>
+
+<p>On his way back from Rodney McAllister’s, as he
+passed down the main street of the city, he came to
+Carpenter’s Hall. Inside the hall a public meeting
+was in progress. It had been called by certain labor
+leaders for the purpose of discussing and deciding
+upon the attitude of labor in the political campaign
+then fairly under way. Those who were wise in such
+things said that the socialists were back of it. The
+minister stopped to read the poster announcing the
+meeting, and when he had read it it occurred to him
+that he would enter the hall and listen to the speeches.
+He might learn something which would be of benefit
+to him, on a subject in which he was deeply interested.
+It was late when he pushed his way into the auditorium,
+and several of the speakers had already been
+heard. Representatives of trade-unionism, of socialism,
+even of syndicalism, had been duly applauded and occasionally
+hissed as they presented their views in turn
+to their audience. Representatives and candidates of
+the old-line parties had been excluded from the speaker’s
+platform.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_113"></a>[113]</span></p>
+
+<p>At the moment when Mr. Farrar entered the hall
+Stephen Lamar was occupying the rostrum. It was
+apparent that he had the crowd with him. His crude
+eloquence always captured the audience that he saw fit
+to address. He was a trade-unionist, and one of the
+leaders of the large and growing body of socialists in
+the city, though his views were somewhat too radical
+to please all of them. However, his influence, his
+power and his leadership were recognized, not only by
+workingmen who went to him for advice, but also by
+politicians who went to him for aid and counsel.</p>
+
+<p>The rector of Christ Church was recognized by some
+of those who were crowding the aisles, and they made
+way for him so that he might get farther to the front
+where he could both see and hear. One man rose and
+offered him a seat, for the benches were filled; but he
+preferred to stand.</p>
+
+<p>The gist of Lamar’s argument was that while trade-unionism
+was a good thing so far as it went—he himself
+was a trade-unionist—it did not go far enough. It was
+only through socialism, and through political action
+under the auspices of the socialist party that the workingman
+would be finally disenthralled. Socialism was
+the only instrument under heaven which labor could
+successfully use to enforce its demands upon society.
+If conservative socialism was not sufficient to accomplish
+that end, then radical socialism must be employed,
+and if radical socialism should prove to be insufficient,
+then resort must be had to syndicalism. In any event,
+at whatever cost, the capitalist must go. The era of
+the industrial commonwealth must be ushered in. And
+with that era would come peace and plenty, comfort
+and enjoyment, the luxuries of life to all who cared to
+have them. But this glorious end could not be accomplished
+without a struggle, and a fierce one. If labor
+was ever to release itself from the burden of such laws
+as made John Bradley’s disappointment and death a
+crime against humanity, it must turn deaf ears to the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_114"></a>[114]</span>
+specious pleas of the old line politicians, it must wholly
+disregard the silly vaporings of the capitalistic press, it
+must shake itself free from the grasp of religious superstition
+and the benumbing influence of the Church, and,
+by its own unaided power, with the red flag of fellowship
+in the van, march on, as it surely had the power to
+do, to a splendid and overwhelming victory.</p>
+
+<p>There was a whirlwind of applause. An enthusiastic
+adherent of the labor leader yelled:</p>
+
+<p>“Go it, Steve! Give it to ’em! Give ’em hell!”</p>
+
+<p>Before the last word was out of his mouth a stalwart
+Irishman, sitting well to the front of the hall, struggled
+to his feet and made himself heard.</p>
+
+<p>“I object,” he shouted, “to this attack on religion.
+It ain’t nicessary and it ain’t dacent. Ye’re doin’ small
+favor to the workin’men, Steve Lamar, to be ladin’ ’em
+away from the Church. I’m a laborin’ man mesilf, and
+I know there’s nothin’ like religion to steady a man
+an’ put heart into ’im, an’ give ’im a stomach to fight
+for what’s due ’im from them that’s robbin’ ’im. Ye’re
+usin’ the divil’s logic, Steve, to desthroy the poor.”</p>
+
+<p>In an instant the hall was in an uproar. A dozen
+men were on their feet demanding to be heard. It was
+only by continuous pounding with the heavy gavel that
+the chairman of the meeting was able to restore order
+to a sufficient degree to permit Lamar, stung by the
+Irishman’s criticism, to go on with his speech.</p>
+
+<p>“I had concluded my address,” he said, when finally
+he was able to make himself heard, “but, in view of
+the interruption which has just occurred, I will say one
+word more. My friend, the objector, is evidently an
+adherent of a Church that puts a ban on socialism, and
+stands ready to give absolution on account of all sins,
+save the sin of making war on capital. Advanced
+socialism has no room within it for the pious creeds.
+Listen to what the leaders have declared. Karl Marx
+said: ‘The idea of God must be destroyed!’ Engel
+said: ‘The first word of religion is a lie.’ Bebel declared:<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_115"></a>[115]</span>
+‘Socialism denies religion altogether.’ My
+friends, the best thinkers and the most brilliant leaders
+in the socialistic propaganda have pronounced against
+religion and the Church. I take my stand with them.
+It is the economic, the materialistic interpretation of
+history that is the key to human happiness, not the
+religious and the ecclesiastical. What the workingman
+wants is justice, not prayers; the full value of the
+product of his own toil, not pious charity. Capital
+controls and orders the Church, and muzzles the bishops
+and priests. Why, they dare not preach even the
+gospel proclaimed by the Carpenter of Nazareth whom
+they affect to adore, lest their masters be offended. I
+tell you the workingman who permits himself to be
+bamboozled by the preachers and the priests, and bribed
+by the so-called charity of the Church, is a short-sighted
+fool. He is forcing the very chains that are to bind
+him. Away with the Church! Away with religion!
+Use your own brains and your own consciences, and
+your own good right arms, if necessary, to work
+out your own salvation. Only so will you ever be
+free.”</p>
+
+<p>Lamar stepped down from the platform amidst
+another storm of applause, not unmingled with vigorous
+protests. It was apparent that there were those in the
+audience who disagreed with him. Then, out of the
+confusion of voices, one voice rose, clear and distinct.
+The rector turned to look at the speaker, who stood not
+far from him, and at once recognized the man as Samuel
+Major, who had been Juror No. 7 in the Bradley case.</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Chairman,” shouted Major, “I believe this
+attack on religion and the Church should be answered.
+And it should be answered now, in the presence of
+those who have heard it. The Reverend Robert
+Farrar, rector of Christ Church and a friend of labor,
+is here in the audience, and I call on him to take the
+stand in defense of religion and the Church.”</p>
+
+<p>The suggestion met with both approval and disapproval.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_116"></a>[116]</span>
+A man with full black beard and black hair
+falling on his shoulders arose and called out:</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Presiden’: Thees ees politique assembly, not
+prayer-meeting. We weesh that no clergy deescourse
+with us. I say ratha’ put that preach’ out.”</p>
+
+<p>But the sense of fair play that governs all American
+audiences seized now upon this one, and immediately
+there were cries of: “No! No! Give the preacher a
+chance! Farrar! Farrar!”</p>
+
+<p>The cry deepened into a roar. The demand was
+insistent. Half the audience was on its feet yelling
+for “Farrar!” He was not unknown to most of them.
+The story of his sermons had gone abroad. They
+wanted to see him and to hear him. The chairman
+wavered, turned to consult with one of the vice-presidents
+of the meeting, and then called to the clergyman
+to come to the platform. It was an invitation that
+could not be refused, nor had the rector of Christ
+Church any thought of refusing it. Resenting Lamar’s
+assault on Christianity, he welcomed the opportunity
+to reply to it. He made his way to the rostrum,
+mounted the steps, and turned and faced the audience
+now grown remarkably still. He was stalwart, clean-cut,
+fine featured. His garments were not of the
+clerical type. He appealed to the eyes of those who
+looked on him before he had spoken a word.</p>
+
+<p>“My friends,” he said, “I accept your invitation
+gladly. I want to deny the charges made against religion
+and the Church by the last speaker. I believe,
+with the man who replied to him from the floor, that
+the great need of the workingman to-day is the need
+of religion and the Church. Physical comforts are not
+the sole foundation for the happiness of mankind.
+History can never be properly interpreted from its
+economical side alone. There can be no just interpretation
+of it that leaves out God. Before food was,
+before clothes or homes or gold or silver were, before
+this world itself was, God was. And after all these<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_117"></a>[117]</span>
+things have vanished, God will still be. It is the conception
+of God in the souls of men, broadening, brightening,
+growing as the ages have grown, that has lifted
+man out of the ranks of the savage and brute and has
+made of him an enlightened human being, demanding
+good food, good clothes, good homes, and all the comforts
+and amenities of life. And we of the Christian
+Church believe that Jesus Christ was the inspired and
+final interpreter of all the wisdom of God. He was
+born in a manger. In childhood He felt the pinch of
+poverty. In early manhood He was a carpenter, working
+with saw and hammer as many of you are working
+to-day. He dwelt with the proletariat. Their problems
+and sufferings were His. He knew the poor and
+He loved them and strove for them. He had no soft
+word to say for the rich. If ever there was a guide, a
+leader, a saviour for the toilers of the world, that leader
+and saviour is Jesus Christ. He founded a Church
+upon earth and that Church is still a vital force and a
+mighty factor in the lives of men, even though, in its
+course through the centuries, it has fallen now and
+then from the lofty height on which He placed it.
+Restored and lifted up, it stands to-day the authorized
+agent of Christ on earth. That Church is as much for
+you as it is for your wealthy neighbor. Aye, more
+for you than for him, because yours is the greater need.
+Avail yourselves of its privileges. As rector of Christ
+Church I invite you to come to our services, to unite
+yourselves with us, to partake of all the privileges we
+enjoy. Do not let the fear of intrusion hinder you, nor
+any coldness of welcome on the part of the wealthy
+prevent you from coming. The place is yours, and its
+privileges are yours, and as children of God you have
+a right to enjoy them. And so far as I can control it,
+there shall be no class distinction there, no line of
+demarcation between the rich and the poor; but every
+man shall be the equal of every other man, and all be
+brothers in Christ.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_118"></a>[118]</span></p>
+
+<p>“My friends, I am a Christian socialist. I believe in
+your ideals of justice, of equality, of economic independence,
+and I shall rejoice with you when all those
+ideals have been crystallized into law. But do not
+deceive yourselves with the notion that you can accomplish
+these things without God. Do not make the
+mistake of attempting to realize your hopes without
+the aid of religion, for you will never succeed. Rob
+socialism of the things that hinder and debase it.
+Vivify it and glorify it with the religion of Jesus
+Christ who was the one great socialist of all the
+ages, and your cause cannot fail; the dawn of that
+splendid day of which you dream, and for which I
+pray, will not then be far removed from any one of us.”</p>
+
+<p>It was his appearance, his evident sincerity, his
+magnetic personality, no less than the words he
+uttered, that caught the audience and carried it with
+him. They might not yield to his appeal, they might
+not follow his advice, but from that moment, to the
+vast majority of them, he was something more than
+<i lang="la">persona grata</i>.</p>
+
+<p>As he came down from the platform and made his
+way to the rear of the hall a great roar of applause
+shook the walls of the building, and many men stopped
+him in the aisle to shake hands with him, and to thank
+him for coming to their meeting, and for addressing
+them thus intimately from their own platform.</p>
+
+<p>After that night the toilers of the whole city counted
+the Reverend Robert Farrar as their friend and advocate,
+and a protagonist of their cause.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_119"></a>[119]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII<br>
+<small>A SIGNIFICANT DINNER PARTY</small></h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>Disappointment was in store for those who came
+to Christ Church on the Sunday morning following the
+vestry meeting in the expectation of hearing a continuance
+of the rector’s sermons on the duty of the rich
+toward the poor, and of the poor toward the Church.</p>
+
+<p>No larger congregation had gathered there at any
+time during the two years’ pastorate of the Reverend
+Mr. Farrar. Pews that, by reason of the voluntary
+absence of disaffected parishioners, would otherwise
+have been vacant, were filled by curious and interested
+persons who seldom went to any church. Long before
+the Venite was reached in the order of service every
+seat was occupied.</p>
+
+<p>But the sermon, forceful and eloquent though it was,
+dealt only with the parable of the talents, and the
+lesson to be drawn from it. Nevertheless the humble
+folk who listened to it went away, for the most part,
+feeling that they had partaken of something that
+satisfied and strengthened them.</p>
+
+<p>There was some discussion among his parishioners as
+to whether the rector had, after all, decided to comply
+with the expressed wish of his vestrymen, and forego
+his public criticism of the existing social order. Some
+of them said, with a knowing smile, that discretion was
+often the better part of valor. They did not know the
+man. Nor had they, as yet, heard of his brief address
+at the labor meeting in Carpenter’s Hall the evening
+before. When, later, they did hear of it, they were
+indignant. In their judgment it was utterly inexcusable
+for the rector of Christ Church to take the stump<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_120"></a>[120]</span>
+at a political meeting, held under the auspices of
+avowed agitators, for the purpose of proclaiming to
+the non-churchgoing public his social heresies, and of
+inviting the rabble to make itself indiscriminately at
+home in the stately pews, and among the exclusive
+worshipers of Christ Church. Truly he had belittled
+his calling, and mocked his vestry and affronted his
+people. The bishop should be notified of his conduct
+without delay. But the Reverend Mr. Farrar, having
+fully decided upon his course, did not permit himself to
+be swerved from it by adverse criticism. He had
+expected opposition, therefore he was not disappointed
+when he received it in abundance. He had never
+thought that his path would be unblocked. He was
+prepared to suffer for the cause he had espoused. He
+was ready, if necessary, to be socially ostracized if his
+opponents saw fit to emphasize their opposition in that
+manner. But he wished that his wife might be spared.
+She was so sensitive, so weak, so timid and soft-hearted,
+so dependent on the companionship and favor of those
+who were now, for the most part, out of sympathy
+with him. It was an unfortunate situation. Again
+the regret that she was not of the stuff of which martyrs
+are made passed uneasily across his mind. And on the
+heels of his regret there came an invitation that was
+not only a reassurance to her, but might also be interpreted
+as a token of sympathy with him. The rector
+and his wife were asked to dine at the Tracys’ with a
+few friends. As to Mr. Tracy, the invitation was without
+significance so far as it bore any relation to recent
+events. He never concerned himself about controversies
+in the Church. He never discussed religious topics
+with any one. The only kind of an opinion that could
+be obtained from him was a professional opinion, duly
+considered, delivered and paid for. With his wife of
+course it was different. She had an opinion ready on
+every question that arose, and she was never averse to
+expressing it.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_121"></a>[121]</span></p>
+
+<p>Reading between the lines the rector could see that
+Mrs. Tracy’s purpose in giving the invitation was to
+reassure Mrs. Farrar as to her social standing, notwithstanding
+her husband’s heresies. And, reading still
+farther between the lines, he believed that Ruth had in
+mind his own encouragement in the course he was
+pursuing. He had not seen her since the night of the
+vestry meeting, but word had come to him that she
+was loyally supporting him in his interpretation of true
+religion, and in his idea of the mission of the Church.
+And why should she not support him? He had fully
+expected it of her. She was alert, intelligent, conscientious,
+in complete accord with that spirit of the
+times which made for progress. Somewhere she had
+imbibed ideas of social justice that did not fit in harmoniously
+with the practical if unstudied programme of
+her mother. Mrs. Tracy declared that she had imbibed
+them at Bryn Mawr, from which institution she had
+been graduated with high honors in the recent past.
+But Mr. Tracy intimated that they were due to a
+tendency that she had inherited from certain of her
+paternal ancestors who had been distinguished members
+of the proletariat of their day. Be that as it may, her
+advocacy of a reformation in the social order was open
+and well known, not only to her intimates but to all
+of her friends. Philip Westgate was the only one of
+them who refused to take her seriously. To him her
+reformatory activity was only a manifestation of an
+exuberance of youth and conscience which would soon
+exhaust itself in the face of unrewarded tasks. She
+was too charming as a woman to remain long as a
+reformer.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Farrar had guessed, with reasonable accuracy,
+the respective purposes which Mrs. Tracy and her
+daughter had in mind in sending out their dinner invitations.
+It was true that Mrs. Tracy, sympathizing
+deeply with the rector’s wife, desired to show her some
+attention of sufficient moment to indicate to her that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_122"></a>[122]</span>
+her social position was intact. She said as much to her
+daughter Ruth in proposing the dinner.</p>
+
+<p>“I think it’s an excellent idea,” replied Ruth, “to
+have Mr. and Mrs. Farrar here. They are both delightful
+people, and at this time especially they ought
+to be made to feel at home in every one of our
+houses.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh,” responded the mother, “I have no sympathy
+for Mr. Farrar. He deserves to have a social ban placed
+on him. He’s making himself so perfectly ridiculous
+and—and obnoxious; yes, really obnoxious. I don’t
+see what he can possibly be thinking about. I’m going
+to tell him so if he comes, and I’m going to do it openly
+and aboveboard. But as for his dear little wife, she
+must be protected against the consequences of his folly
+so far as we are able to protect her. Don’t you think
+so?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t think it’s folly on his part, mother; I think
+it’s bravery. But, whatever it is, she should not suffer.
+Whom shall we invite to meet them?”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s what worries me. So many of the best
+people have taken umbrage at what Mr. Farrar’s been
+preaching that really I don’t know to whom he would
+be acceptable.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why not risk Mr. and Mrs. Claybank? or Colonel
+Boston and his wife?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, dear me! Colonel Boston and Mr. Claybank
+can’t endure the man. Jane Chichester said that both
+of them got fairly wild at the vestry meeting when he
+insisted on his free pew nonsense.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, if you want some one who agrees with him,
+there are Mr. and Mrs. Hazzard, and Mr. Emberly and
+his sister.”</p>
+
+<p>“Ruth! What are you thinking of? Such ordinary
+people! Neither of those women is on my calling list,
+and I haven’t even a speaking acquaintance with the
+men. I haven’t swallowed Mr. Farrar’s ideas of social
+equality yet; besides, this dinner is not on his account;<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_123"></a>[123]</span>
+it’s on Mrs. Farrar’s. I feel so sorry for her. Jane
+Chichester says she suffers terribly from what people
+say about her husband. Jane went to see her, you
+know, and tried to comfort her.”</p>
+
+<p>“I think I’d rather have one of Job’s comforters than
+to have Jane if I were in distress.”</p>
+
+<p>“I know she’s a dreadful gossip. But she means
+well; and she does an immense amount of church work.
+I think I’ll invite Jane. She ought to be perfectly acceptable
+to both Mr. and Mrs. Farrar. And the Chichesters
+are one of the oldest and best families in the
+city.”</p>
+
+<p>“Very well, mother. I’m satisfied. Who else?”</p>
+
+<p>“Of course Phil and his mother. That goes without
+saying. Jane says that Phil actually prevented a fight
+the night of the vestry meeting.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, mother! That’s nonsense! Nobody thought
+of fighting. Phil told me all about it after the exaggerated
+and ridiculous story had spread all over the
+city. But Phil is a natural peacemaker, and while he
+doesn’t agree with Mr. Farrar, I’m sure he is on friendly
+terms with him.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, why not invite Judge and Mrs. Bosworth?
+I understand the judge’s attitude toward Mr. Farrar is
+about the same as Philip’s.”</p>
+
+<p>“I think they will do nicely. But now you should
+have another man.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s true! Let me see! I have it; I’ll invite
+Barry!”</p>
+
+<p>“Mother! Barry is so impossible as a dinner
+guest!”</p>
+
+<p>“Why? He belongs to the wealthiest family in the
+city. He is of excellent character and has the manners
+of a gentleman.”</p>
+
+<p>“But his brains, mother, his brains!”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll admit that nature was not over lavish to Barry
+in that respect, but he’ll do very well indeed. And
+besides it will please Jane to have him here.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_124"></a>[124]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I suppose it will. Jane seems to be pursuing
+him with great avidity.”</p>
+
+<p>“And why shouldn’t she? Barry would make her
+a very good husband. The marriage would unite two
+of the best families. Besides, you didn’t want him
+yourself, why should you object to some other girl
+having him?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t object. Jane is quite welcome to him so
+far as I’m concerned, but—poor Barry! Think of
+what he’d have to listen to.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, if he’s like most men, what his wife would
+say would go in at one ear and out at the other, anyway.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, and in Barry’s case the passage from one ear
+to the other would be so easy—nothing to interfere,
+you know.”</p>
+
+<p>“Ruth! To talk that way about your guests! It’s
+positively sinful!”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I apologize. And I’m quite willing to admit
+that Barry has his good points. But so many of them
+lie dormant, and Jane Chichester would never be the
+woman to bring them out. I’ll tell you what Barry
+needs, mother. He needs a wife, not necessarily of the
+cultured class, but one who can supply what he lacks
+in intellect, and who is sufficiently forceful and tactful
+to use him and his social position for the benefit of
+themselves and the city. As he is now, unmarried, he
+is more or less of a joke. With Jane Chichester as his
+wife, he would become practically a nonentity. With
+such a woman as I would pick out for him, his position
+and his happiness would be assured.”</p>
+
+<p>“But where is the woman?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I haven’t the least idea. I haven’t so much as—mother!”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, what is it?”</p>
+
+<p>“I have a thought.”</p>
+
+<p>“About what?”</p>
+
+<p>“About whom Barry should marry.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_125"></a>[125]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Yes, you’ve just expressed it.”</p>
+
+<p>“But I mean that I have the particular person in
+mind.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, who is it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, it’s Mrs.—— How foolish of me! I’ll not
+mention her name. I have no right to. And I know
+very little about her anyway.”</p>
+
+<p>“Is she a widow?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes; and very beautiful. I have seen her. And
+she is said to be very bright mentally. There, never
+mind; have we settled on the guests?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. Phil and his mother, Judge and Mrs. Bosworth,
+Jane and Barry, to meet Mr. and Mrs. Farrar.
+That’s enough. I think Mrs. Farrar would dread a
+larger company. But about Barry——”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m through talking about Barry, mother.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, then, about Jane——”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m through talking about Jane also.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then write the invitations.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. and Mrs. Farrar came early on the evening of
+the dinner party. None of the other guests had yet
+arrived. Mrs. Tracy went up-stairs with the rector’s
+wife. Mr. Tracy was still engaged in the laborious
+task of getting into his dinner coat. So Ruth and the
+rector entered the library alone.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ve been wanting to tell you,” said Ruth, “how
+thoroughly I approve of your recent stand for social
+equality in the Church. You’ve known my opinion, of
+course, but, in view of the adverse criticisms I’m afraid
+you’ve been receiving, I thought you might like to
+know it again.”</p>
+
+<p>“I am glad to know it again,” responded the rector,
+“and you are very kind to give it to me. I value it
+because you know whereof you speak. Both theoretically
+and practically you know the needs of the
+poor, and the suspicions and aspirations of those in the
+humbler classes of society.”</p>
+
+<p>“And I know, too, that we shall never get those<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_126"></a>[126]</span>
+people into the Church, nor keep them if we do get
+them, until we treat them as equals. I quite agree
+with you that the first thing to do is to make all pews
+free.”</p>
+
+<p>“I am fully convinced of that, but I fear that I shall
+not be able to get my vestry to agree with me.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then we will elect a vestry that will agree with
+you.”</p>
+
+<p>“That is easier said than done.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll turn politician for the purpose. I’ll canvass
+the parish before the Easter election. I’m determined
+to do what I can to abolish class distinctions in Christ
+Church. Mother says I’m a fanatic. Phil more than
+half suspects that she is right. Father doesn’t care.”</p>
+
+<p>“You seem to have enlisted for the war.”</p>
+
+<p>“I have. I’m at your command. I’m ready for any
+practical service to which you wish to put me. I’m
+tired of seeing Christ Church a mere fashionable Sunday
+club. I want to help make it a religious home for
+everybody.”</p>
+
+<p>“You are very brave and generous. But I’m afraid
+you haven’t counted the cost.”</p>
+
+<p>“What will it cost?”</p>
+
+<p>“Possibly your social standing.”</p>
+
+<p>“I can afford to lose that.”</p>
+
+<p>“You will have to face opposition, ridicule, protest,
+misinterpretation of your motives.”</p>
+
+<p>“No doubt. But these things do not worry me in
+the least. Mr. Farrar, my mind is made up. You
+cannot discourage me, nor drive me out of this contest.
+I shall be with you—to the end.”</p>
+
+<p>She stood in the soft glow of the shaded lamp, a
+picture of resolute and splendid young womanhood; a
+modern Joan of Arc, as brave-souled and pure-spirited
+as her prototype of old. The rector of Christ Church
+stepped forward and took the hand she held out to
+him.</p>
+
+<p>“You are an inspiration,” he said; “you have filled<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_127"></a>[127]</span>
+me with fresh courage to-night. We shall fight together.
+I believe God will give us the victory.”</p>
+
+<p>Her hand lay in his, warm, firm, clinging; pledge of
+her loyalty to him and of her faith in his ideals.</p>
+
+<p>“There is one matter of immediate concern,” he
+added, after a moment, “in which I want to ask your
+assistance.”</p>
+
+<p>“You shall have it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Thank you! You remember the Bradley case in
+court? The one that resulted in an enforced verdict?”</p>
+
+<p>“Very well, indeed. I have fought it over with
+Phil several times. But I can’t convince him that the
+verdict was unjust.”</p>
+
+<p>“I feel that it was. You know Bradley died?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes; and I know you said things at his burial for
+which his fellow-workmen have been commending you
+ever since. His widow declined to receive you, did
+she not?”</p>
+
+<p>“She did. That is why I come to you for help. I
+want to ask if you would be willing to call on her.
+She is a woman of great strength of character, unusually
+intelligent, and has much influence in her own
+community. She came to church on one or two occasions
+prior to her husband’s death, and she was present
+at the service last Sunday morning. While she is interested
+in the Church, she is distinctly hostile to it. I
+wish greatly that her attitude of hostility might be
+changed into one of at least friendliness, both for her
+own good and for the influence which she can command.”</p>
+
+<p>“I will call on her. I shall be very glad to. She is
+an unusual woman in appearance. I have heard that
+she is unusual also in character and ability. I’ll do my
+best to persuade her.”</p>
+
+<p>“Thank you again. That’s splendid!”</p>
+
+<p>What a comfort she was! What an inspiration!
+What a pity that she was not the wife, not to become the
+wife of a progressive rector of an advancing church!</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_128"></a>[128]</span></p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Tracy swept into the room, with Mrs. Farrar
+in tow.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, here you are!” she exclaimed, giving the
+rector a warm hand-grasp. “I suppose Ruth has been
+vowing allegiance to your heresies, Mr. Farrar. I
+can’t get her to look at the matter reasonably, and
+Philip can’t either; and her father just smiles and says
+she’s of age and can do as she wants to.”</p>
+
+<p>“You’ll have to convert Mr. Farrar first, mother,”
+laughed Ruth, “and then let him convert me.”</p>
+
+<p>“It would serve you both right,” continued the mistress
+of the house, “if we had Jim Dodder, the blacksmith,
+here to dine with you, with his three hundred
+and fifty pound wife who is bald on the back of her
+head.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, mother!” protested Ruth, “she doesn’t weigh
+a bit over two hundred.”</p>
+
+<p>“Three hundred if she weighs a pound,” insisted
+Ruth’s mother. “Why, when she came the other day
+to call on our cook, the rocking-chair in the maid’s
+sitting-room collapsed under her.”</p>
+
+<p>“And shall that be attributed to her for unrighteousness?”
+asked the rector.</p>
+
+<p>“Now, Mr. Farrar,” remonstrated the hostess, “don’t
+try to evade the issue. You know what I’m driving
+at. Your ideas of social equality are perfectly ridiculous,
+I declare! Perfectly ridiculous!”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Farrar made no attempt to defend himself. Nor
+did he feel in the least hurt. He was quite accustomed
+to Mrs. Tracy’s blunt, direct way of expressing
+her opinions. He knew, moreover, that she had the
+kindest of hearts, and always tempered her criticism
+with great mercy for her victim.</p>
+
+<p>“Mother’s afraid,” said Ruth, “that in the new
+régime she’ll have to wear a calico gown and a green
+sunbonnet to church, so as not to arouse the envy of
+the proletarians.”</p>
+
+<p>“And you’ll have to wear them forever, in the New<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_129"></a>[129]</span>
+Jerusalem,” retorted Mrs. Tracy, “if you keep on consorting
+with the lower classes here.”</p>
+
+<p>Then Judge and Mrs. Bosworth came, closely followed
+by Barry and Miss Chichester; and Mr. Tracy,
+having finally gotten into his evening coat, joined the
+group in the library.</p>
+
+<p>Every one was cordial to the rector, and more than
+cordial to the rector’s wife. The party bade fair to be
+all that Mrs. Tracy and Ruth had hoped for it. No
+untoward event occurred, and no unfortunate remark
+was made, until the dinner had been more than half
+served. Then it was Barry Malleson who blundered,
+as it might have been expected that he would, into
+what should have been forbidden ground.</p>
+
+<p>He turned to Judge Bosworth, who was sitting
+diagonally across the table from him and said:</p>
+
+<p>“This is the first opportunity I have had, Judge, to
+compliment you on the masterly way in which you
+wound up that Bradley case against us. As vice-president
+of the Malleson Manufacturing Company I feel
+personally grateful to you. You will kindly accept
+my thanks.”</p>
+
+<p>The judge’s face flushed with the annoyance he felt.</p>
+
+<p>“You owe me nothing,” he said, “not even thanks.
+The law in such cases is well settled. There was no
+chance for me to do otherwise than as I did.”</p>
+
+<p>“Judge,” replied Barry, “you are too modest. It
+was your genius in applying the law so that it should
+serve the best interests of society that led to the judgment
+in our favor. The Malleson Manufacturing
+Company, as the great industrial plant of this city,
+paying out thousands of dollars weekly in wages, must
+not be subject to attack by any common laborer who
+happens to get hurt while in our employ. The lesson
+which the court has taught to that class of people will
+doubtless prove to be a most salutary one.”</p>
+
+<p>Then Barry, with a sense of duty well performed,
+resumed activity with his fork. But Judge Bosworth’s<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_130"></a>[130]</span>
+face had grown redder, the rector’s lips were tightly
+set, as if in an effort to prevent the escape from them
+of inadvertent words, and Ruth, fearful of the upsetting
+of her plans for a harmonious dinner, was nervously
+tapping the damask cloth with a shapely finger. Miss
+Chichester, seeing that Barry had unwittingly gotten
+himself into trouble, felt that it was her instant duty
+to help him out of it.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, but Barry’s going to give Mrs. Bradley some
+money anyway, now that her husband’s dead. Aren’t
+you, Barry? I call that very generous.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” replied Barry, “if she’ll take it. Something
+as a gift, you know. Purely as a gift. No obligation
+connected with it at all.”</p>
+
+<p>“A small sum as an honorarium, I suppose, Barry,”
+said Mr. Tracy, with a twinkle in his eye.</p>
+
+<p>“Exactly!” replied Barry, “an honorarium.” The
+word sounded good to him. He meant to stow it away
+in his memory, for use on some other occasion.</p>
+
+<p>“But what if she won’t accept it?” asked Mrs.
+Tracy. “That kind of people are so very independent.”</p>
+
+<p>“Barry intends to keep calling on her and urging
+her, periodically, until she does accept it. Don’t you,
+Barry?” inquired Westgate. Mr. Tracy and Westgate
+never seemed able to let escape them a good opportunity
+of having a little quiet amusement at Barry’s expense.</p>
+
+<p>“Why,” replied Barry, “it might take one or two
+more visits to induce her to be reasonable about it, I
+don’t know.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well,” said Miss Chichester, “if she doesn’t take it
+the second time it’s offered to her, she should never have
+another chance. Barry can’t afford to be perpetually
+chasing after ungrateful people to force money on them.
+Can you, Barry?”</p>
+
+<p>“But what if Barry enjoys the chase?” asked
+Westgate.</p>
+
+<p>Then the vice-president of the Malleson Manufacturing<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_131"></a>[131]</span>
+Company awoke to a dim consciousness of the fact
+that he was being made the subject of gentle raillery.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, now, look here, Phil,” he said, “the woman’s
+handsome and all that, you know; but really, belonging,
+as she does, to the laboring class, it’s not to be presumed
+that she would drive so conservative a man as I
+am suddenly daft.”</p>
+
+<p>“She hasn’t driven you suddenly daft, Barry,” replied
+Westgate. “I’m sure that no one who has known
+you for any length of time would accuse her of having
+done that.”</p>
+
+<p>“Philip,” remonstrated Ruth, “behave yourself!”</p>
+
+<p>“And it seems to me,” added Mrs. Tracy, “that it’s
+entirely out of place anyway to talk about the attractions
+of a widow whose husband has only been dead
+for two or three weeks. A woman so recently bereaved
+is much more likely to spend her time in prayer
+and meditation than in making herself attractive to
+men.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mrs. Bradley isn’t,” said Westgate. “Is she,
+Mr. Farrar? You’ve had some talk with her along
+religious lines.”</p>
+
+<p>In spite of Ruth’s warning glances, Westgate seemed
+determined that the conversation should remain centered
+on Mrs. Bradley.</p>
+
+<p>“I’m afraid,” replied the rector seriously, “that Mrs.
+Bradley is not much given to prayer as yet. But I
+have strong hope that we shall eventually make a good
+church-woman of her. With that in view I have asked
+Miss Tracy to take an early opportunity to call on her.”</p>
+
+<p>“Quite proper,” said Barry. “I heartily approve
+of it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, Ruth!” exclaimed Miss Chichester, “let me
+go with you when you go to call.”</p>
+
+<p>“No, Jane,” replied Ruth firmly, “I think I can do
+more with her if I see her alone.”</p>
+
+<p>It might have ended there if Mrs. Tracy had not
+seen fit to declare:</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_132"></a>[132]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Well, I don’t see any use, anyway, in chasing after
+people of that class to get them into the Church.
+There’s plenty of material to be worked on in our own
+grade of society. There are enough irreligious persons
+in our own social set to crowd the church if they could
+all be induced to attend the services. Mr. Farrar, why
+don’t you and Ruth get after some of the upper-class
+derelicts? You might start with Effingham G. Tracy.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Tracy, sitting at the head of the table, smiled
+faintly but made no response. He did not seem to be
+in the least concerned about his wife’s opinion of him.</p>
+
+<p>“Very good, Mrs. Tracy!” exclaimed Barry. “Very
+good, indeed! I think, myself, that Mr. Tracy would
+be a proper subject for evangelization.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Tracy’s smile broadened, but still he did not
+respond. Like another celebrated character, he could
+be silent in seven languages. Then Mr. Farrar replied
+to Mrs. Tracy’s question.</p>
+
+<p>“We feel,” he said, “that those who have not had
+the advantages of wealth and education and culture
+are entitled to our first efforts. The Christian message
+is primarily to the humble and the poor.”</p>
+
+<p>“There you go again,” she responded. “‘The
+humble and the poor,’ ‘equality in the Church’ and all
+that. Upon my word, Mr. Farrar, if you and Ruth had
+your way we should be hobnobbing to-night with the
+élite of Factory Hill.”</p>
+
+<p>“And why not?” The rector’s voice was gentle
+enough, but there was not one of the company who
+did not feel the earnest thrill of it, the ring of determination
+in it, not one, save Barry. He simply noticed
+that no one else replied to the rector’s question, and
+he considered that it was quite his duty to make a response.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, now, look here, Farrar,” he said. “You don’t
+mean that. Why should we make companions of the
+kind of people who live on Factory Hill?”</p>
+
+<p>“Because Jesus Christ did.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_133"></a>[133]</span></p>
+
+<p>Even Barry could realize, now, that the rector had
+picked up the gauntlet thrown down to him by his
+hostess and her fatuous guest, and stood ready to defend
+his ideal against all the company. The light in
+his eye, the color in his cheeks, denoted the spirit and
+the zeal that were blazing within him. For a moment
+no one spoke. Mrs. Bosworth sent a warning glance
+across the table to her husband. Mrs. Farrar’s eyes
+dropped, and her face paled with apprehension. Ruth
+looked appealingly at her lover, as though to beg him
+not, at this time, to cross swords with the rector.
+Even Mrs. Tracy, feeling that the situation was rapidly
+getting beyond her control, sought some method of
+gently relieving it. Turning to Barry she said,
+quietly:</p>
+
+<p>“Now, Barry, don’t you and Mr. Farrar get into
+any argument. It wouldn’t be a bit interesting to the
+rest of us. We’re just going to convict Mr. Farrar
+and Ruth without giving them a chance to make any
+defense. There, you’re convicted, both of you.”</p>
+
+<p>“Of what?” asked the rector, smiling again.</p>
+
+<p>“Heaven knows!” responded his hostess. “But I
+turn you over to Judge Bosworth for sentence.”</p>
+
+<p>The judge, falling easily into the drift of Mrs.
+Tracy’s thought, glad to avert what had promised to
+be a most incongruous and unfortunate incident, rose
+readily to the occasion.</p>
+
+<p>“Very well,” he said. “The sentence of the court
+is that you, the Reverend Robert Farrar, and you, Miss
+Ruth Tracy, each pay a visit to Mrs. John Bradley,
+and undergo an imprisonment in her house at hard
+labor with her for a period of at least twenty minutes,
+and that you stand committed to Mr. Tracy’s views
+on church polity until this sentence is complied with.”</p>
+
+<p>Westgate broke in at once.</p>
+
+<p>“Your Honor,” he said, “my client, Barry Malleson,
+desires to plead guilty of a similar offense, provided he
+may receive a similar sentence.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_134"></a>[134]</span></p>
+
+<p>With assumed gravity the judge commanded the
+prisoner to stand up. Barry rose, looking somewhat
+bewildered. The comedy was being played rather
+too rapidly for him to take it completely in as it
+progressed.</p>
+
+<p>“Barry Malleson,” said the judge, “the court accepts
+your plea of guilty. Your offense is aggravated
+beyond that of the other defendants, in that, by your
+own confession, you have offered money to a proletarian,
+by means of which she might have placed herself
+on a par with the four hundred of this city. Nor
+are there any extenuating circumstances in your case.
+The sentence of the court therefore is that you also
+pay a visit to Mrs. John Bradley; that you undergo
+an imprisonment in her house, for a period of at least
+forty minutes, that you come away with a whole purse
+and a whole heart; and you are hereby paroled in the
+custody of Miss Jane Chichester until this sentence is
+complied with.”</p>
+
+<p>“And I’ll see,” said Miss Chichester, “that Barry
+doesn’t break his parole.”</p>
+
+<p>It was most inconsequential foolery, but it served its
+purpose. The strain was relaxed. The atmosphere
+was cleared. Mrs. Farrar and Mrs. Bosworth were
+relieved of their apprehensions, and Ruth was once
+more at ease. New subjects of conversation were introduced,
+and the dinner progressed to a happy and
+harmonious close.</p>
+
+<p>If Mr. Farrar had expected that either Judge Bosworth
+or Westgate would show any lack of friendliness
+or loss of cordiality toward him, he was agreeably
+disappointed. There appeared to be no change in the
+attitude of either of them. So far as Westgate was
+concerned he still had a most kindly feeling for the
+rector. The two men had been on terms of more than
+usual intimacy. They were nearly of the same age,
+possessed of similar cultured tastes, endowed with an
+equal degree of intellectuality. It is true that while<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_135"></a>[135]</span>
+the minister was vigorous, enthusiastic, and perhaps
+visionary, Westgate was calm, logical and conservative.
+But their differing traits were complementary, and
+added to, instead of detracting from, their liking for
+each other. Westgate had watched, with deep regret,
+the rector’s gradual drift toward the shoals of socialism.
+He feared that, sooner or later, lured on by these
+beautiful fallacies which made so strong an appeal to
+his humanitarian sense, the minister would wreck a
+career otherwise brilliant with promise. He did not
+concede that he, himself, was lacking in the broader
+vision, or that he had failed to discover the drift of
+humanity toward a better social order. He freely admitted
+that such a betterment was desirable; but he
+insisted that progressives and enthusiasts like Farrar
+were going about the business in an utterly mistaken
+way, and that the effect of their propaganda would be
+to retard instead of to advance the coming of the ideal
+state. He had not yet found the opportunity to have
+that talk with the rector which he had declared to the
+vestry he intended to have. It was unfortunate, too,
+because he expected to leave the city the following
+day for an extended trip in the West; and after his
+return it might be too late. Events often follow each
+other rapidly in affairs like these. While coffee was
+being served in the library it occurred to him that he
+might have a brief interview with the minister on this
+occasion. It would be better than none at all. Excusing
+themselves on Westgate’s plea that he desired
+to talk over some Church matters with the minister
+before going West, they entered the den of the master
+of the house, adjoining the library. Closeted here,
+with fragrant wreaths of tobacco smoke curling toward
+the ceiling, the two men plunged at once into friendly
+combat. They discussed socialism in all of its phases
+as expounded by its great protagonists, from Marx and
+Engel down to Spargo and Hillquit.</p>
+
+<p>They dissected the doctrine of the materialistic conception<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_136"></a>[136]</span>
+of history, the doctrine of surplus values, of
+collective ownership, of the distribution of wealth among
+the workers, in short all of the material doctrines
+predicated on socialism. But there was little yielding
+on either side, and they found little common ground.
+When they advanced, in the argument, to that modified
+form of socialism advocated by some Christian workers,
+including Farrar himself, they found still fewer
+points of agreement. The rector contended that the
+ideals of socialism were entirely consistent with, and
+simply an evolution of the doctrines propounded by the
+Founder of Christianity who was, Himself, distinctly
+of the leveling type; that the materialism which had
+been injected into the socialistic philosophy was due
+entirely to the personal prejudices, and these in turn to
+the environment, of some of the great leaders of the movement,
+and was not inherent in the philosophy itself.
+He insisted that the anti-religious and unmoral, if not
+immoral, vagaries that had attached themselves to the
+socialistic faith could and eventually would be swept
+away, leaving a body of doctrine which might and
+ought to be adopted by every sincere advocate of the
+coming of the kingdom of Christ.</p>
+
+<p>To which Westgate replied that Jesus Christ was not
+a socialist, that while the government of His time and
+country was honeycombed with corruption, and brutal
+in its oppression of the common people, He neither attacked
+it, nor made any attempt to reform existing
+political or social conditions. He condemned the rich
+because the riches of His day were mostly ill-gotten,
+and He pitied and tried to comfort the poor because
+they were, of all men of His generation, most miserable.
+But His chief concern, and His constant plea,
+was for the spiritual regeneration of the individual
+man. Moreover, that, since socialism declared the
+evils of society to be solely the product of blind economic
+forces, and not, in any sense, the result of individual
+unrighteousness, and since it denied any spiritual<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_137"></a>[137]</span>
+incentive to good behavior, and made economic justice
+the sole factor in the establishment of right relations
+between man and man, it was therefore, and must of
+necessity be, diametrically opposed, not only to Christianity
+but to all religions. And its advocacy of freedom
+from certain moral restraints, particularly the
+avowed doctrine of practically all of its great propagandists—a
+doctrine flowing naturally and necessarily from
+its basic theory—to the effect that the bonds of marriage
+should be assumed and thrown off, as the amorous
+fancy of those concerned might dictate, that divorce
+should be granted freely, without stated cause, at the
+will of the parties; this in itself was sufficient to put
+socialism, in any form, outside the pale of the Church,
+and make it abhorrent to Christian civilization.</p>
+
+<p>So they talked and argued, always in perfect good
+nature, always with a feeling of personal friendliness,
+but they reached no common ground. The rector
+would not yield his idealism. Westgate would not
+yield his conservatism. Then they came directly to
+the question of the trouble in the Church. Again Mr.
+Farrar explained his ambition to make Christ Church
+a church of the people. He had the kindliest feeling
+toward all of his parishioners. He would not offend
+nor hurt any man willingly or wantonly. But his
+whole heart went out to the hundreds and thousands in
+the city who were deprived of the benefits and comforts
+of religion because of the social attitude toward
+them of those in the churches. There must come a
+change in Christ Church. He prayed that it might
+be a peaceful one; but if a conflict should be necessary
+in order to effect it, then he would welcome the conflict.</p>
+
+<p>Westgate assured him that so far as his concern for the
+poor and the churchless was concerned he did not stand
+alone; that he himself was ready to adopt any course
+that would permanently better their condition, either
+religious or secular, so long as it did not conflict with
+the rights and the welfare of the parish at large; but that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_138"></a>[138]</span>
+he was not willing to sacrifice the mental and physical
+comfort and self-respect of the bulk of the parishioners
+for the sake of temporarily gratifying the class-consciousness
+of a portion of the community that Christ
+Church could never hope to retain. He pointed out,
+moreover, in plain terms, the probable result of persistence
+by the rector in the course which he had marked
+out. The financial supporters of the church would become
+lukewarm, or openly antagonistic. The revenues
+would decrease. The proper work of the church would
+languish. If the conflict continued, enmity would be
+aroused, hatred would be engendered, the parish would
+be split into warring factions, a breach would be opened
+that years would not serve to close.</p>
+
+<p>“It was proof of the true Messiah,” replied the rector,
+“that the poor had the gospel preached to them.
+Would you, because of these material dangers which I
+grant you are imminent, have me fail to do my duty to
+the poor whom Christ loved?”</p>
+
+<p>“By no means,” said Westgate. “But your proper
+duty to the poor can be performed without sacrificing
+the interests of the rich and the well-to-do, to whom
+you also owe a duty, and whose souls may be as precious
+in the sight of the Almighty as are the souls of
+the destitute. A soul is a soul, regardless of its physical
+environment.”</p>
+
+<p>“But Christ was the Master and the Judge of souls.
+And He did not favor the rich. His entire concern
+was for the poor. I consider my paramount duty, in
+accordance with His teaching, to be to the poor.”</p>
+
+<p>“And in the performance of that supposed duty you
+are willing to bring about the destruction of Christ
+Church?”</p>
+
+<p>“My purpose is not to bring about the destruction
+of Christ Church, but to bring about the destruction of
+that spirit of selfishness and exclusiveness in the church
+which is even now destroying it.”</p>
+
+<p>It was plain to Westgate that the rector would not<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_139"></a>[139]</span>
+listen to reason, and that argument must give way to
+action. When he next spoke it was with determination.</p>
+
+<p>“We shall not permit you to send this church to
+wreck, Mr. Farrar.”</p>
+
+<p>“God forbid that I should do so! It is my purpose
+to make Christ Church bigger, stronger, more spiritual
+than she has been before in all her history.”</p>
+
+<p>“You are a visionary.”</p>
+
+<p>“I am a prophet. You shall see.”</p>
+
+<p>“Very well.”</p>
+
+<p>Westgate rose and discarded the stump of his cigar.
+“I am not with you; therefore I shall be against you.
+Let me make that plain.”</p>
+
+<p>“I am sorry. You would have been a splendid
+comrade in the fight.”</p>
+
+<p>The rector was going on to say something more, but
+there came a knock at the door leading to the library,
+and he opened it. Mrs. Tracy stood there with an inquiring
+look on her face.</p>
+
+<p>“May I ask,” she said, “when this star-chamber
+session is to end?”</p>
+
+<p>“It is at an end now, Mrs. Tracy,” replied Westgate.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I should hope so,” she responded. “Do you
+men know how long you have been closeted together?
+Exactly an hour and forty minutes. Ruth and Jane
+have played all the music they know; Barry’s told all
+the funny stories he can remember; Mrs. Farrar’s yawning,
+and Mrs. Bosworth says she’s simply got to go
+home. So I think it’s time for you to come out and
+apologize.”</p>
+
+<p>They did come out and apologize. Westgate took
+all the blame for their apparent rudeness on his shoulders;
+and Miss Chichester promised forgiveness if only
+they would disclose what they had been talking about.
+She surmised, but she never knew.</p>
+
+<p>At any rate, Mrs. Tracy’s purpose in giving the
+dinner had been accomplished; the apprehensive soul<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_140"></a>[140]</span>
+of Mrs. Farrar had, for the time being, been reassured,
+and Ruth had had an opportunity to show to Mr. Farrar
+that he was not yet <i lang="la">persona non grata</i> to certain of
+the wealthy members of his parish.</p>
+
+<p>During the few minutes that Westgate had alone
+with Ruth before leaving the Tracy home, he took
+occasion to say to her:</p>
+
+<p>“I’ve had it out with the rector to-night, but he’ll
+not be convinced. I have told him that, in my humble
+judgment, he is steering Christ Church straight on the
+rocks.”</p>
+
+<p>“I too,” she replied, “have talked with him to-night,
+and I have told him that in my humble judgment he is
+absolutely in the right, and that I shall be with him to
+the end.”</p>
+
+<p>“Ruth, I am very sorry.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why should you be sorry?”</p>
+
+<p>“Because you will not only help this man to wreck
+the church, but you will do yourself a great injustice.”</p>
+
+<p>“The church will not be wrecked, and I am willing
+to sacrifice myself for the sake of the disinherited poor.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then this dreamer has not only blinded you to the
+fate of Christ Church, but has led you to the brink of
+self-immolation?”</p>
+
+<p>“He is not a dreamer, Philip. He has not blinded
+me, nor has he sought to blind me. He has not led
+me, nor has he sought to lead me. I have offered myself
+voluntarily for service in his cause. I believe in
+him, and in his ideals, and in his method of applying
+Christianity to the conditions that surround us. I have
+enlisted for the war under his command, and I have
+told him so.”</p>
+
+<p>Looking on her as she stood there, erect, clear-eyed
+and self-confident, Westgate could have no doubt of
+her entire belief in the rector, and of her complete absorption
+in his cause. His heart was stirred with keen
+regret and sharp foreboding, for he could see only sorrow
+and bitter disappointment for her, long before the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_141"></a>[141]</span>
+end of this chimerical crusade could be reached. And
+yet he was powerless to hold her back. He knew that
+in her present condition of mind neither argument nor
+entreaty would be of any avail. She must be permitted
+to go her way unchecked until the day of final disillusionment.
+He prayed that that day might speedily
+come, with only a modicum of disaster.</p>
+
+<p>“We’ll not quarrel about it now, dear,” he said.
+“It will be a good many days before I shall see you
+again, and we must part, to-night, as lovers.”</p>
+
+<p>Holding his hands she looked up into his face with
+moist eyes.</p>
+
+<p>“If I could only have you with me in the fight,” she
+murmured; “you would make such a splendid comrade.”</p>
+
+<p>He did not reply at once. The similarity of her
+expression with that used by the rector earlier in the
+evening struck in upon him ominously.</p>
+
+<p>“You will have me,” he said at last, “to rescue you,
+and bind up your wounds when the battle goes against
+you.”</p>
+
+<p>“And are you not afraid that you will be giving aid
+and comfort to the enemy?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, no! I will simply be taking the part of the
+Good Samaritan.”</p>
+
+<p>He had drawn her into his arms, and, though clouds
+and darkness obscured the future, there could be no
+doubt that, to-night at least, they were still lovers.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_142"></a>[142]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX<br>
+<small>THE SPIRIT OF REVENGE</small></h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>Ruth Tracy was as good as her word. She went
+to call on Mary Bradley. She found her in the little
+house on Factory Hill from the porch of which Stephen
+Lamar had addressed the crowd on the day of Bradley’s
+funeral. It was a bleak November afternoon; a
+Saturday half-holiday for the more favored class of
+workers; the busy end of a toilsome week for those
+whose occupations brought them no week-day respite.
+The rows of small, brown houses, some of them ill-kept
+and dilapidated, formed a cheerless foreground to an
+unattractive landscape. But Ruth Tracy was not unaccustomed
+to the appearance of an environment such
+as this, and she was not depressed by the scene. She
+had done much visiting among the poor. She had left
+her car at the foot of the hill, and had walked up. She
+had learned by experience that her work among these
+people was most effective when there was the least display
+of luxury.</p>
+
+<p>From a man who overtook her on the street she
+inquired her way to the Bradley house.</p>
+
+<p>“I am going there myself,” he replied, “and I’ll
+show you.”</p>
+
+<p>He walked along with her—it was not more than a
+block or two—and brought her to Mrs. Bradley’s door.
+During this brief walk, however, she learned that her
+guide was no other than Stephen Lamar, of whom she
+had often heard, but whom she had not before, to her
+knowledge, seen. He had taken a personal interest, he
+told her, in Mrs. Bradley, and had found employment
+for her during the recent political campaign, at the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_143"></a>[143]</span>
+headquarters of the Socialist party. She had done her
+work with such marked efficiency that the committee
+had kept her on as their secretary and as one of the
+promoters of their cause. They valued her services
+highly. The headquarters were closed on Saturday
+afternoons, and undoubtedly she would be at home.
+She was at home. When she opened her door in response
+to Lamar’s knock she was somewhat taken aback
+to see the labor-leader standing on her porch in company
+with a well-dressed young woman.</p>
+
+<p>“I do not,” he said as they entered the house, “know
+the lady’s name nor her errand. I found her on the
+street, inquiring her way here. I came, myself, to see
+you about the notices for the Sunday afternoon meeting.
+There’s been a mistake. I’ll talk with you about
+it when your other visitor has gone. In the meantime
+I’ll step into the kitchen and have a little visit with
+your mother.”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s not necessary for you to leave the room,” interrupted
+Ruth; “I simply came to make a social call
+on Mrs. Bradley. I’m Ruth Tracy, and I’ve heard of
+Mrs. Bradley through Mr. Farrar, the rector of Christ
+Church.”</p>
+
+<p>The other woman’s face flushed at the mention of the
+rector’s name, but she gave no further sign of approval
+or disapproval of the errand of her guest. She placed
+a chair for Ruth, and motioned Lamar to a seat across
+the room. He thanked her, and made no further
+attempt to withdraw. He was glad to remain. He
+wanted to know the real purpose of Miss Tracy’s visit.
+He wanted to be able to checkmate any move which
+might be made toward influencing Mrs. Bradley to
+identify herself in any way with the Church. He
+feared that if she should look with favor on organized
+religion, she would, sooner or later, be lost to the cause
+of the workingmen, to the cause of socialism, and
+especially lost to him, Stephen Lamar. So he sat
+quietly and listened.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_144"></a>[144]</span></p>
+
+<p>With charming tact and simplicity Ruth strove to
+make herself agreeable to the mistress of the house.
+Her efforts were received coldly at first, but her
+evident sincerity and her unaffected interest soon
+brought a response, and it was not long before the two
+women were conversing pleasantly and without restraint.
+There was no offer of help, or of charity of
+any kind, on the part of the guest, no inquiry into
+economic conditions, no religious appeal, no intimation
+of any kind that she was there for any other purpose
+than that of a friendly visit. Mary Bradley was nonplused.
+This was something new in her experience.
+Women of the wealthy class who had called on her
+heretofore had come with offers of help, or sympathy,
+or religious consolation; and she had declined their
+help, had refused their charity, had resented their
+interference on behalf of the Church. But this was
+different. Why had this young woman come on what
+appeared to be simply a friendly visit? What ulterior
+motive was back of it? How much had the rector of
+Christ Church to do with it? Except at the moment
+of introducing herself Ruth had not mentioned his
+name. It was Mrs. Bradley herself who now brought
+it to the front.</p>
+
+<p>“I hardly thought,” she said, “that Mr. Farrar
+would have remembered me.”</p>
+
+<p>“He forgets no one, and he remembers you very
+well,” was the reply. “He was much concerned over
+your lawsuit, and over the death of your husband, and
+he is interested now in your welfare.”</p>
+
+<p>“He is very kind. I think he is too good to be a
+preacher.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why do you say that, Mrs. Bradley? Should not
+a preacher be one of the best of men?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I suppose he should be; but if he is it’s in
+spite of his calling, not because of it.”</p>
+
+<p>“I do not understand you.”</p>
+
+<p>“I mean this, Miss Tracy; a church such as yours is<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_145"></a>[145]</span>
+in control of the rich people who support it. And the
+rector can’t please those people and be just to the poor
+at the same time. And the preacher who isn’t just to
+the poor isn’t good.”</p>
+
+<p>Miss Tracy made no effort to defend the rich people
+of her church. She simply said:</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t think Mr. Farrar is so much concerned
+about pleasing people as he is about being right. And
+I think he is very just to the poor.”</p>
+
+<p>“So do I. That’s the reason I think he is too good
+for his Church. I’ve heard about the trouble he is
+having. I don’t know whether you are for him or
+against him. But I’m sure he’ll be beaten in the end.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why do you think so?”</p>
+
+<p>“Because the power of money is too great. It controls
+everything; society, business, law, religion, everything.
+Sooner or later Mr. Farrar must yield to it or
+it will destroy him.”</p>
+
+<p>“I do not think you know how much will and determination
+Mr. Farrar has.”</p>
+
+<p>“In a way I do. I have heard him preach several
+times lately. He is very brave. I believe he is as
+good as he is brave. He has—done me some favors,
+and I am very grateful to him.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then why do you not permit him to call?”</p>
+
+<p>“Did he tell you that I refused him? Well, that
+was before I knew of what stuff he was made.”</p>
+
+<p>“And you wouldn’t refuse him now? May I tell
+him so? He will be so glad.”</p>
+
+<p>Lamar, who had been watching, with some uneasiness,
+the drift of the conversation, could not refrain at
+this juncture from interrupting it.</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t think it does any good, Miss Tracy,” he
+said, “for preachers to visit the working class. It
+doesn’t help us any toward industrial freedom, and
+that’s what we need first, not religion.”</p>
+
+<p>“But Mr. Farrar is also an advocate of industrial
+freedom.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_146"></a>[146]</span></p>
+
+<p>“I know; but his advocacy counts for nothing so
+long as he preaches from a capitalistic pulpit. If he
+wants to be of real service to us let him out loose from
+the Church and come with us.”</p>
+
+<p>“He is trying to make his church a church of the
+people, where every one, rich and poor, will stand on
+an equal footing.”</p>
+
+<p>“He can’t do it. No one can do it. The whole
+ecclesiastical system would have to be changed to accomplish
+it. His spectacular crusade will amount to
+nothing. He’s only stirring up trouble for the laboring
+people. He’s making the rich angry, and they’ll
+take it out on the poor. He’s making the capitalists
+afraid, and they’ll turn the screws tighter on the men
+that work for them. I hope Mrs. Bradley will not see
+this man. It can do her no possible good, and may
+injure the cause.”</p>
+
+<p>Mary Bradley, who had been quiet since Lamar
+entered into the conversation, turning her eloquent
+eyes from one to the other of the speakers, now spoke
+up on her own account. She had on her face something
+of the look that was there that day in the court-room
+when she denounced the injustice of the law.
+She was not accustomed to being told whom she should
+or should not receive at her house. Her voice, quiet
+and well modulated, had in it nevertheless a ring of
+determination as she turned to Ruth and said:</p>
+
+<p>“You may tell Mr. Farrar that I shall be glad to see
+him whenever he chooses to come.”</p>
+
+<p>In the excitement attendant upon this incident, none
+of the three had noticed the hum of an automobile in
+the street outside, nor that the car had stopped in front
+of Mrs. Bradley’s house. There came a knock at her
+street door, and she went and opened it. Barry and
+Miss Chichester stood on her porch. She recovered
+at once from her astonishment and invited them to
+come in.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, of all things!” exclaimed Miss Chichester,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_147"></a>[147]</span>
+when she came in sight of Ruth. “What in the world
+brought you here?”</p>
+
+<p>“I came to call on Mrs. Bradley,” Ruth answered,
+quietly.</p>
+
+<p>“Quite a coincidence,” remarked Barry. “The last
+time I came here I found Farrar here. And this time
+I find his right hand helper here. There must be a
+conspiracy to get Mrs. Bradley into the Church.”</p>
+
+<p>“We’re always conspiring to get people into the
+Church,” said Ruth. “Mr. Lamar, let me introduce
+you to Miss Chichester, and Mr. Malleson.”</p>
+
+<p>“Malleson of the Malleson Manufacturing Company,”
+explained Barry. “Vice-president, you know.”</p>
+
+<p>Lamar smiled grimly. “I am glad,” he said, “to
+meet so distinguished a gentleman.”</p>
+
+<p>“Won’t somebody please introduce me to Mrs.
+Bradley?” asked Miss Chichester plaintively.</p>
+
+<p>“Pardon me!” replied Ruth. “I thought you knew
+each other. Mrs. Bradley, this is Mr. Malleson’s friend,
+Miss Chichester.”</p>
+
+<p>Barry looked doubtful, but Miss Chichester did not
+demur to the form of the introduction. She bowed
+slightly and smiled.</p>
+
+<p>“I’m glad to know you,” she said. “Barry, that is
+Mr. Malleson, has told me about you. I believe you
+have had some very hard times, Mrs. Bradley.” She
+took in the widow’s very plain costume, and cast her
+eyes about the cheaply furnished room.</p>
+
+<p>“Hard times come sooner or later, in one form or
+another, to every one,” replied Mrs. Bradley. “I’ve
+simply been having mine now.”</p>
+
+<p>“But,” continued Miss Chichester, “it must be so
+distressing to be so poor.”</p>
+
+<p>The widow’s eyes flashed, but no resentment was
+discernible in the tone of her voice.</p>
+
+<p>“I have plenty of company. Every one is poor on
+Factory Hill. Besides, so many people have been kind
+to me in my misfortune. Mr. Lamar has found congenial<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_148"></a>[148]</span>
+employment for me. Mr. Farrar has called once
+to see me. Miss Tracy has to-day made me a most
+agreeable visit. Miss Chichester has done me the honor
+to call. Mr. Malleson has been here once before to
+offer me help, and has done it so courteously and
+sincerely that I am sure I may look upon him as my
+friend.”</p>
+
+<p>The eyes that she turned on Barry were soft and
+appealing. He had never seen another woman with
+such eyes as Mary Bradley’s; what wonder that they
+entranced him? Unaccustomed to any of the social
+graces, she had bidden her guests to be seated, and sat
+among them with a modesty and self-confidence that
+would have done credit to a dweller on the borders of
+Fountain Park.</p>
+
+<p>“Barry is so tender-hearted,” said Miss Chichester,
+“and so easily touched by the sight of distress. He’s
+really foolish about it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Indeed!” said Mary Bradley. “I didn’t know.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why,” stammered Barry, “it’s only what we do
+for all our widows; I mean for all widows who became
+widows because their husbands were in our employ.”</p>
+
+<p>“Exactly,” said Mrs. Bradley.</p>
+
+<p>“And that reminds me,” continued Barry, “that I’ve
+brought the check and voucher with me again, and if
+you’ll sign the check and take the voucher I’ll be glad
+to leave them.”</p>
+
+<p>“Barry means,” broke in Miss Chichester again,
+“that you should sign the voucher and take the check,
+don’t you, Barry?”</p>
+
+<p>Without waiting for a reply she hurried on: “I
+hope you’ll do it, Mrs. Bradley. Barry is very anxious
+to get it settled and off his mind. Aren’t you, Barry?”</p>
+
+<p>“I realize that I should have some consideration for
+Mr. Malleson’s mind,” replied Mrs. Bradley, “but
+really, I don’t see how I can take this money with a
+good conscience. I understand,” turning her eyes
+again on Barry and dissipating what little self-assurance<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_149"></a>[149]</span>
+he had left, “that you offer me this as a gift, pure
+and simple?”</p>
+
+<p>“Pure and simple,” was his reply; but when he saw
+her shake her head slightly he added: “Or as a loan,
+Mrs. Bradley, or as—as a trust. Anything you like so
+long as you take it.”</p>
+
+<p>She laughed a little at that, showing rows of perfect
+white teeth. Then she turned to Ruth.</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Malleson’s company,” she explained, “after my
+husband’s death, in view of my straitened circumstances,
+offered me a sum of money. I couldn’t see my
+way clear to accept it at the time, and I can’t now.
+I’m working; I’m supporting myself; my debts are
+paid. I don’t see why I should accept this gift, much
+as I appreciate the generosity of Mr. Malleson and his
+company. What would you do, Miss Tracy, if you were
+in my place?”</p>
+
+<p>“I wouldn’t take it,” replied Ruth, “if I felt that it
+would in the least humiliate me, or have a tendency to
+undermine my independence or self-respect.”</p>
+
+<p>“There, Mr. Malleson,” said Mrs. Bradley, “you
+hear what Miss Tracy says.”</p>
+
+<p>“I do,” protested Barry, “but Ruth was never a—a
+childless widow, with a family to support, and she
+doesn’t know how it feels.”</p>
+
+<p>Ruth colored and laughed, but, without waiting for
+her to respond, the “childless widow” turned to
+Barry’s companion.</p>
+
+<p>“And what would you do, Miss Chichester?” she
+asked.</p>
+
+<p>“I would take it, without hesitation,” Miss Chichester
+replied. “Miss Tracy is a very dear friend of mine,
+but I disagree with her entirely in this matter. Besides,
+the company is rich and can well afford to
+pay you. And then again, if you shouldn’t take it
+I know Barry would be grieved. Wouldn’t you,
+Barry?”</p>
+
+<p>But the young man was so deeply engaged in studying<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_150"></a>[150]</span>
+the lights and shadows on Mrs. Bradley’s face that,
+if he heard the question at all, he paid no heed to it.</p>
+
+<p>The widow now appealed to Lamar.</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Lamar,” she said, “you are a friend of mine,
+and your judgment is very good. What would you do
+if you were in my place?”</p>
+
+<p>“I should turn the offer down,” replied Lamar,
+promptly. “It would be a great blunder for you to
+take this corporation’s money. It would injure you
+and our cause in more ways than one.”</p>
+
+<p>The widow smiled again. Her face was fascinating
+when she smiled. There were two men in the room
+who would have vouched for that.</p>
+
+<p>“There you are!” she exclaimed. “See what an
+embarrassing position you place me in. Mr. Malleson
+and Miss Chichester are positive that I should take the
+money, and Miss Tracy and Mr. Lamar are equally
+positive that I shouldn’t. Two and two. And you
+are all my friends. What am I to do?”</p>
+
+<p>Up through Barry’s consciousness there struggled a
+gleam of light.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll tell you what to do, Mrs. Bradley,” he said,
+speaking with unusual rapidity; “hold the matter
+under advisement, a—hold the matter under advisement.
+For a fortnight say. Think it over carefully,
+and—as my friend Farrar would say—prayerfully, and
+I’ll see you about it later.”</p>
+
+<p>Then Miss Chichester again had her innings.</p>
+
+<p>“Barry!” she exclaimed, “you’ll do nothing of the
+kind! If you don’t close it up to-day you must drop
+it entirely, because I shall not come with you again to
+help you put it through.”</p>
+
+<p>Barry pondered for a moment over this ultimatum,
+but he did not appear to be at all displeased.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll not insist,” he said, “on your coming again.
+In fact I think possibly I could get along with Mrs.
+Bradley better, don’t you know, if there wasn’t any
+one present to interfere.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_151"></a>[151]</span></p>
+
+<p>And then the widow closed the discussion. “I have
+decided,” she said, “to adopt Mr. Malleson’s suggestion,
+and hold the matter under advisement.” She
+turned to Barry. “I shall be glad to see you at any
+time, here or at my office in the Potter Building.”</p>
+
+<p>Again those wonderful eyes, looking him through
+and through, not boldly or coquettishly, or in any unseemly
+way, but with a magnetic power that a far
+stronger will than his would have been unable to resist.
+Ruth rose and took Mrs. Bradley’s hand.</p>
+
+<p>“I want you to come and see me,” she said. “We
+shall find so many things to talk about. You will
+come soon, won’t you?” She turned to Lamar and
+bowed smilingly. “You see, Mr. Lamar,” she said,
+“we women will have our own way, and Mrs. Bradley
+is just like the rest of us. Barry, if you and Jane are
+going now, I’ll ride down the hill with you.”</p>
+
+<p>“We’re going now,” replied Miss Chichester, firmly.
+“Come, Barry!”</p>
+
+<p>But Barry, who had risen, stood as if in a dream.</p>
+
+<p>“Come, Barry!” repeated Miss Chichester. “Ruth
+is already in the street.”</p>
+
+<p>It was not until she laid her hand on his sleeve that
+he really awoke and was able, in some fashion, to make
+his adieux. He remembered, afterward, much to his
+dismay, that he had shaken hands cordially with
+Lamar, and had invited him to call some day at the
+office and go over to the City Club with him for
+luncheon.</p>
+
+<p>When they were gone, the door from the kitchen
+was opened, and the little, gray-haired, wrinkled-faced
+old woman who had been there on the day of Barry’s
+first call looked in.</p>
+
+<p>“Have they all gone?” she inquired.</p>
+
+<p>“All but Steve, mother,” her daughter replied.</p>
+
+<p>“He don’t count,” she said. “Who was the young
+lady that came first?”</p>
+
+<p>“That was Miss Ruth Tracy.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_152"></a>[152]</span></p>
+
+<p>“What did she want?”</p>
+
+<p>“She wanted,” replied Lamar, “to capture Mary.”</p>
+
+<p>“What for?”</p>
+
+<p>“To get her into the Church; to make a hypocrite
+of her.”</p>
+
+<p>“The Church ain’t such a bad thing, accordin’ to
+my way o’ thinkin’,” said the old woman. “Both o’
+ye’d be better off if ye seen more of it. Who was the
+other young lady?”</p>
+
+<p>“That was Miss Chichester, mother.”</p>
+
+<p>“What did she want?”</p>
+
+<p>“She wanted,” replied Lamar, “to protect young
+Malleson.”</p>
+
+<p>“Can’t the man take care of himself?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not when Mary’s around, he can’t.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why not?”</p>
+
+<p>“Ask Mary.”</p>
+
+<p>But the old woman didn’t ask Mary; she gave a
+little, cackling laugh, and retreated to the kitchen,
+closing the door behind her.</p>
+
+<p>“I suppose you know the purpose of Miss Tracy’s
+visit,” said Lamar when he was again alone with the
+widow.</p>
+
+<p>“I can imagine what it is,” was the reply.</p>
+
+<p>“If she can get you interested in the preacher,” he
+continued, “and the preacher can get you interested in
+the Church, you’re as good as lost.”</p>
+
+<p>“I might be as good as saved,” she replied.</p>
+
+<p>“That’s religious cant. You know what I mean.
+The moment you get into the Church capital will have
+its clutches on you. You’ll be lost to socialism, lost to
+labor, lost to me. None of us can afford it.”</p>
+
+<p>“You seem to value my services,” she said.</p>
+
+<p>“I do. Socialism does. You’ve brought us more
+genuine recruits in the short time you’ve been with us
+than all those high-toned, college-bred fellows that train
+with us could get for us in years.”</p>
+
+<p>“You are extravagant.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_153"></a>[153]</span></p>
+
+<p>“I have a right to be. I know what I’m talking
+about.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then suppose I should use the power you credit
+me with in winning over Mr. Farrar and Miss Tracy
+to the cause. I think they’re more than half converted
+now.”</p>
+
+<p>“We don’t want them. They’re too closely allied
+to the capitalistic class. We can’t afford to have that
+kind of people with us. The workingmen look on
+them with suspicion; they have no confidence in them.
+As for the preacher, he’s putting out a big bluff, but
+he doesn’t mean it, and he couldn’t accomplish anything
+if he did. He’s wincing now under the screws
+they’re putting on him.”</p>
+
+<p>“You have a grievance against the preacher. You
+haven’t got over the drubbing he gave you at Carpenter’s
+Hall. It hurts a little yet, doesn’t it, Steve?”
+She looked at him with mischievous eyes, and a smile
+shadowing her perfect lips.</p>
+
+<p>“Nonsense, Mary! He didn’t get the best of me.
+Haven’t I told you?”</p>
+
+<p>“The crowd seemed to think he did.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, the crowd! They’ll shout for anybody who
+can tickle their ears with fine phrases. It’s the easiest
+thing in the world to carry a mob of these ignorant,
+flat-headed day-laborers off their feet.”</p>
+
+<p>“How about the ‘wisdom of the proletariat’?”</p>
+
+<p>“The ‘wisdom of the proletariat’ be damned!”</p>
+
+<p>He reddened and laughed a little as he thus passed
+condemnation on one of his own favorite phrases.</p>
+
+<p>“Well,” she said, the smile still playing about her
+mouth, “what would you say to my converting Barry
+Malleson?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, he’s anybody’s fool. Do what you like with
+him. You’ve got him pulverized already. I’d crack
+his skull now, out of pure jealousy, if he had brains
+enough in it to rattle.”</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t you think he’d make a good socialist?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_154"></a>[154]</span></p>
+
+<p>“That depends on how far you could bleed him for
+funds.”</p>
+
+<p>“Steve, you’re as cold-blooded as a shark.”</p>
+
+<p>“I admit it; in everything but my admiration for
+you. But I don’t care to have you setting up friendly
+relations with such people as this preacher and the
+crowd that was here to see you to-day. It won’t do
+any good, and may do a good deal of harm.”</p>
+
+<p>“Do you propose to control my social conduct?”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ve been your friend, haven’t I?”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s very true.”</p>
+
+<p>“And I’ve landed a good job for you?”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s true also.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then be reasonable; and understand what I have
+in store for you.”</p>
+
+<p>“What have you in store for me?”</p>
+
+<p>“This. Listen! In the new social régime women
+will be on a par with men. That’s a part of the
+socialist creed. It’s going to be a question of brains,
+not sex. You can be as much of a leader as I can.
+Working together we can control a following that will
+give us almost unlimited power, almost unlimited opportunity.
+There’s going to be a rich harvest for some
+one. It may as well be ours as any one’s. Do you
+understand?”</p>
+
+<p>“I think I do. But that lies pretty well in the
+future, doesn’t it?”</p>
+
+<p>“One can’t tell just how near or how far away it
+may be.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, there’s something I want here and now that
+will give me more pleasure and satisfaction than all the
+future glory you can predict for me.”</p>
+
+<p>“What is it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Revenge.”</p>
+
+<p>“What do you mean?”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll explain.” She sat with her elbows resting on the
+table, her hands covering her ears, her eyes dominating
+him as he sat across from her, taking in her words.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_155"></a>[155]</span></p>
+
+<p>“You know what they did to John Bradley?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes; they killed him.”</p>
+
+<p>“And you know what they did to me?”</p>
+
+<p>“I know; they threw you out of court; treated you
+like a dog.”</p>
+
+<p>“Worse than a dog. I said that day when they got
+their verdict that I’d make them sorry for it. I propose
+to do it, and I want you to help me.”</p>
+
+<p>“How?”</p>
+
+<p>“I want Richard Malleson smashed. I want his
+company wrecked. I’ll be satisfied with nothing less.”</p>
+
+<p>“You’ve laid out a big job.”</p>
+
+<p>“Do you flinch at it?”</p>
+
+<p>“No; but it’s no boys’ play to do it.”</p>
+
+<p>“You know how?”</p>
+
+<p>“There’s only one way; put organized labor on his
+neck.”</p>
+
+<p>“Exactly! That’s what I want done.”</p>
+
+<p>He looked at her for a moment without replying.
+She sat there resolute, splendid, perfect, the most desirable
+thing in the world in the eyes and thought of
+Stephen Lamar. But she had held him at arm’s length.
+She had drawn a rigid line beyond which he had not
+dared to trespass. Her coolness had only inflamed his
+ardor. She had given him, now, something to do which
+would be not only a test of his ability, but a test also
+of his declared devotion to her. If he should accomplish
+the task she was setting for him, surely he would
+be entitled to a rich compensation. Still looking into
+her eyes he said:</p>
+
+<p>“And if I succeed in doing what you ask, I shall
+want my pay for it.”</p>
+
+<p>“You shall have it,” she replied. “What’s your
+price?”</p>
+
+<p>“You.”</p>
+
+<p>She laughed a little. “You shall have,” she said,
+“a man’s reward for work well done.”</p>
+
+<p>And with that promise he had to be content.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_156"></a>[156]</span></p>
+
+<p>Ten minutes later the old woman came back from
+the kitchen into the living-room, and found her daughter
+there alone.</p>
+
+<p>“Is Steve gone?” she asked.</p>
+
+<p>“He’s gone, mother.”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t care much for Steve.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why not?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t like the look in his eye.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s no reason.”</p>
+
+<p>“He don’t believe in God.”</p>
+
+<p>“Lots of people don’t.”</p>
+
+<p>“Nor religion.”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t care much for religion myself.”</p>
+
+<p>“The more shame to ye. They say Steve’s got a
+wife up in Boston. Has he?”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ve never asked him. He’s never told me.”</p>
+
+<p>“But if he has why don’t he live with her?”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s his own business.”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s bad business. There’s somethin’ wrong about
+him. I say let Steve Lamar alone. He’ll do ye
+harm.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mother, I don’t care who he is, or what he is, or
+what he does, so long as he does what I’ve asked him
+to do.”</p>
+
+<p>“What’ve ye asked him to do?”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s my secret.”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s a fool’s secret. Some day he’ll kill ye.”</p>
+
+<p>The angry old woman shuffled back into the kitchen
+and slammed the door behind her.</p>
+
+<p>At eight o’clock that evening Stephen Lamar entered
+a saloon on lower Main Street, known as “The Silver
+Star.” It was a favorite gathering place for the mill-workers.
+It was a place where there was undoubted
+social equality. And in that respect, as Lamar once said
+to a crowd there, it overtopped any church in the city.</p>
+
+<p>He was greeted noisily as he went in. Some one,
+standing at the bar, called out to him to come up and
+have something.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_157"></a>[157]</span></p>
+
+<p>“No,” he replied, “I’m not drinking to-night. I’m
+looking for Bricky.”</p>
+
+<p>“Bricky ain’t been in yet,” said the bartender.</p>
+
+<p>“Maybe he won’t come no more,” added the man at
+the bar. “I’m told he’s been goin’ to hear that feller
+preach. The feller’t wears the nightgown an’ flummadiddles
+an’ lets on he’s for the laborin’ man. Maybe
+he’s got Bricky to cut out the booze.”</p>
+
+<p>A man seated alone at a table in the corner of the
+room spoke up.</p>
+
+<p>“You’ve got no call to speak disrespectful of Mr.
+Farrar, Joe. I’ve been goin’ to hear him myself.
+Take it from me, he’s the straight goods.”</p>
+
+<p>“Right you are, Bill!” exclaimed another one of
+the company, and a half dozen voices echoed approval.
+Then a man, seated with a group at a table, rose unsteadily
+to his feet and lifted a half-drained glass in the
+air.</p>
+
+<p>“I drink,” he shouted, “to health of rev’ren’ ’piscopal
+preasher. Frien’ o’ labor. Who joins me?”</p>
+
+<p>Every glass was raised, and all of the men seated
+rose to take part in the tribute.</p>
+
+<p>“Come, Steve!” shouted one; “take a nip to the
+preacher.”</p>
+
+<p>But Lamar shook his head defiantly.</p>
+
+<p>“Not I,” he said. “You fellows can drink your
+empty heads off to him if you want to. But I say that
+any one who pretends to be a friend to the laboring
+man just to get a chance to steer him into a capitalistic
+church is a damned hypocrite!”</p>
+
+<p>The lone man in the corner brought his glass down
+on the table with a crash.</p>
+
+<p>“Take that back, Steve!” he shouted. “You’ve got
+no right to say that, an’ it’s a lie. He’s no hypocrite.
+I know. Why, boys, what you think that preacher
+done when my Tommy was sick an’ died with the black
+fever last spring, an’ you, Steve Lamar, and every
+mother’s son of you here, was too damn scared o’ your<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_158"></a>[158]</span>
+lives to come within a mile o’ the house. He held my
+boy’s hand whilst he was a-dyin’; that’s what he done,
+an’ he come there an’ read the funeral business when
+my own brother was afraid to come into the yard; an’
+the missus would crawl a hundred miles on her hands
+and knees to-night to do the least kindness to the
+preacher with a heart in him. Oh, to hell with your
+knockin’!”</p>
+
+<p>For a moment following this impassioned speech
+there was utter silence in the room; then came a roar
+of applause, and in the midst of it some one shouted:
+“Drink! To the preacher with a heart in ’im!
+Drink!”</p>
+
+<p>Every man in the room was on his feet and drinking,
+save Lamar; and every man drank his cup to
+the bottom in honor of the clergyman who was not
+afraid.</p>
+
+<p>It was a strange tribute; equivocal, incongruous, unseemly
+no doubt, but genuine indeed. Lamar stood,
+for a moment, sullen and defiant; but before the
+glasses were lowered he turned to the bartender and
+said:</p>
+
+<p>“When Bricky comes in tell him I want to see
+him.”</p>
+
+<p>Then he strode on into an adjoining private room,
+and closed the door behind him. But he took back
+nothing that he had said.</p>
+
+<p>Ten minutes later Bricky came and joined Lamar in
+the private room. He was a tall, angular fellow, with
+a shock of dull red hair, and a pair of gray eyes that
+looked out shrewdly from under overhanging brows.
+He was a skilled laborer in the plant of the Malleson
+Manufacturing Company, and a leader of the workingmen
+employed there.</p>
+
+<p>“You’ll have a beer, won’t you?” he asked, touching
+a button in the wall behind him.</p>
+
+<p>“I wasn’t drinking,” replied Lamar, “but I will have
+a whiskey, and I’ll have it straight. Beer won’t touch<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_159"></a>[159]</span>
+the spot to-night. I’ve got an attack of nerves. The
+treat’s mine.”</p>
+
+<p>“Thanks! I heard the boys outside rubbed it into
+you a little.”</p>
+
+<p>“Rubbed nothing in. They can’t faze me by shouting
+for the preacher. And as for Joe Poulsky, damn
+him! I’ll get him yet.”</p>
+
+<p>When the whiskey came he drank it at a gulp.
+Then he asked how the men were getting on at the
+Malleson plant. Bricky (his name was Thomas Hoover,
+but few knew him otherwise than as Bricky) replied
+that things were going on as usual. The wage scale
+was satisfactory; sanitary conditions good, hours of labor
+agreeable, bosses human; probably the best plant
+in the city in which to work.</p>
+
+<p>“When does the agreement expire?”</p>
+
+<p>“First o’ January,” was the reply.</p>
+
+<p>“Going to renew it?”</p>
+
+<p>“So far’s I know. Why?”</p>
+
+<p>Lamar did not answer the question, but he asked
+another one.</p>
+
+<p>“Do you know how much the company’s going to
+clean up in net profits this year?”</p>
+
+<p>“No; I ain’t heard.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I have. It’ll run close to two hundred thousand.
+Malleson and his family get the lion’s share
+of it.”</p>
+
+<p>“I s’pose so. They’re the biggest stockholders.”</p>
+
+<p>“Do you think you fellows that work there are
+getting what you’re entitled to out of the earnings of
+that concern?”</p>
+
+<p>“We’re gittin’ what the scale calls for.”</p>
+
+<p>“Never mind the scale. Do you think you’re getting
+a fair share of the money your work brings in?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know. I ain’t figured it out.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I have. I know you’re entitled to about
+fifty per cent, more than you’re getting.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s some of your socialist arithmetic, Steve.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_160"></a>[160]</span></p>
+
+<p>“No. Socialist or no socialist; they could pay you
+fifty per cent. more and make a handsome profit
+beside.”</p>
+
+<p>“Maybe. I don’t know. Maybe we’re entitled to
+it. It’s another thing to git it.”</p>
+
+<p>“You won’t get it unless you ask for it. Why don’t
+you demand an increase under a new scale?”</p>
+
+<p>“The old man wouldn’t stand for it.”</p>
+
+<p>“He’d have to. He couldn’t afford to shut down.
+He’s making too much money. Besides, there are seven
+non-union men working in the plant. I’ve had them
+checked up.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, of course they’ve got to join or quit.”</p>
+
+<p>“Sure! And you’re only getting time and a half
+for overtime. You’re entitled to time and three-quarters.”</p>
+
+<p>“I guess that’s right, too.”</p>
+
+<p>“Of course it’s right. Why, there are a dozen things
+that ought to be fixed up before you fellows sign a new
+scale. That concern’s pulling the wool over your eyes
+every day. Wake up! and get what belongs to you.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s easier said than done, Steve.”</p>
+
+<p>“Not a bit. All you’ve got to do is to work the
+thing up. Get after the men. Convince them. Do it
+yourself. Don’t bring in outsiders. Show them where
+they’re getting trimmed every day they work. Put
+them up to demand a new scale with an increase that’s
+worth while, and better all-’round conditions.”</p>
+
+<p>“Suppose we do that and the old man sticks out?”</p>
+
+<p>“Then strike.”</p>
+
+<p>“How long would a strike last without Union
+backin’?”</p>
+
+<p>“You’d have Union backing. I’ll see that the Union
+endorses you. I can do it. You know that. I’ll stop
+every wheel in every mill in this city till you fellows
+get what you demand.”</p>
+
+<p>“You know what you’re talkin’ about, Steve? You
+know what a hell of a lot o’ red tape they is about<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_161"></a>[161]</span>
+a strike these labor union days? Meetin’s an’ votes,
+an’ grievance committees, an’ strike committees, an’ all
+the head buckies in the unions buttin’ in? How do
+you know the Central would stand by us?”</p>
+
+<p>“I tell you everything in labor in this district will
+stand by you. I know what I’m saying. What the
+devil makes you so chicken-hearted and suspicious?”</p>
+
+<p>The man with the shock of red hair laid his arms on
+the table and leaned across toward Lamar.</p>
+
+<p>“Look here, Steve,” he said, “let’s be plain about this
+thing. No beatin’ around the bush. Do you want a
+strike at the Malleson?”</p>
+
+<p>“I want a strike at the Malleson.”</p>
+
+<p>“What for?”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll tell you later. I’ve got a damned good reason.”</p>
+
+<p>The man with the red hair leaned still farther across
+the table, and spoke in a whisper.</p>
+
+<p>“What is there in it,” he asked, “for me?”</p>
+
+<p>Lamar rose, went to the door that led into the room
+and locked it, dropped the ventilating sash above it,
+pulled down the shade at the window, and resumed his
+seat at the table. After that the conversation between
+the two men was carried on in subdued tones.</p>
+
+<p>Twenty minutes later they came out into the barroom.
+The man who had given the lie to Lamar was
+gone. So were most of those who had heard him.
+But their places were more than filled by others who
+had come in.</p>
+
+<p>Lamar called all hands to the bar. The drinks, he
+said, were on him.</p>
+
+<p>“That’s right!” affirmed Bricky, nodding to every
+one. “It’s Steve’s treat. Say what you’ll have.”</p>
+
+<p>When the glasses were all filled Lamar raised his and
+said:</p>
+
+<p>“Here’s to better times and better wages!”</p>
+
+<p>“And to the man that brings ’em!” added Bricky.</p>
+
+<p>So they all drank.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_162"></a>[162]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X<br>
+<small>A MINISTERIAL CRISIS</small></h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>If any parishioner of Christ Church comforted himself
+with the thought that the Reverend Robert Farrar
+had wisely decided to forego his animadversions on the
+self-constituted privileges of wealth in the Church, or
+his appeals for social equality in the House of God, he
+was destined to experience a rude awakening. For,
+not only did the rector resume his protests and appeals
+from the pulpit, but he inaugurated and carried on a
+personal campaign among his people for the adoption
+of his revolutionary ideas. They were revolutionary
+indeed. He preached social justice, and Christian
+socialism. And while a critical analysis of his sermons
+would doubtless have failed to unearth a single unorthodox
+phrase, nevertheless he advocated a doctrine
+which learned commentators had hitherto failed to discover
+in the written Word of God, and which the pious
+and profound compilers of the Book of Common Prayer
+had certainly never contemplated. He dwelt much, as
+had been his custom, on the lowly origin and humble
+environment of the Saviour of mankind. He did not
+minimize the spiritual significance of His mission, as
+have some professed followers of the Nazarene in order
+that they might magnify Him as a social prophet.
+Nor had he great sympathy with those materialistic
+adherents of the Master who hold that the purpose of
+His teaching was not so much to point the way to
+spiritual regeneration as to arouse the Galilean peasants,
+by parable and precept, to a sense of their economic
+wrongs, and to instill into their minds a hearty desire<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_163"></a>[163]</span>
+to free themselves from the yoke of the Roman oppressor
+and the hard ecclesiasticism of the Jewish priesthood.
+He never sought to rob the Christ of any of
+the spiritual adornment or any of the divine attributes
+with which the Church from time immemorial has
+clothed Him. But he loved to dwell on His passion
+for the poor.</p>
+
+<p>The rector’s gospel of social equality was rejected
+and resented, or accepted and cherished, according to
+the personal view-point of those to whom it was presented.
+The parish was sharply divided. There were
+few lukewarm adherents to either side in the controversy.
+Those who were not with him were against
+him, and against him unequivocally. Some of them
+went so far as to request that their names be stricken
+from the parish roll. Others, less impulsive and more
+worldly-wise, contented themselves with voluntary absence
+from the services of the church. Still others,
+and these constituted the greater part of those opposed
+to the new régime, unwilling to forego the privileges
+and customs of many years, went, with apprehensive
+minds, to listen to unwelcome sermons, and came away
+troubled and depressed.</p>
+
+<p>But the congregations grew in size. Pews given up
+by former parishioners did not remain vacant for want
+of occupants. Pewholders in sympathy with the
+rector’s views doubled up with each other or threw
+their sittings open freely to the public. In one way
+and another room was found for all the common people
+who came and who heard gladly the new gospel
+that was being preached to them.</p>
+
+<p>It is true that the roll of regular supporting parishioners
+was not greatly lengthened; but the prospects
+were bright for many additions, and there was abundance
+of hope for large results in the future.</p>
+
+<p>It is true also that while the cost of caring for the
+newcomers in all the activities of church life materially
+increased the amount of necessary expenditure, the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_164"></a>[164]</span>
+church revenues began, at the same time, to show a
+marked falling off.</p>
+
+<p>But these things did not greatly disturb the rector.
+He knew that his first duty was to obey the mandates
+of the religion in which he believed, and to continue
+his efforts to reclaim and regenerate the hundreds of
+hitherto churchless and unwelcome poor who were now
+turning tired feet toward the portals of Christ Church.
+Matters of finance must and would adjust themselves
+to any situation which might result from his efforts in
+this behalf.</p>
+
+<p>And he had defenders, plenty of them. He had
+helpers by the score, and companions by the hundred.
+At least two members of his vestry, Emberly and
+Hazzard, were outspoken and enthusiastic adherents to
+his cause. All of his humbler parishioners, new and
+old, save those few who chanced to be under the domination
+of men and families of wealth, were with him
+heartily in his crusade. Class was arrayed against
+class. To the observant and disinterested onlooker the
+struggle formed a most illuminating chapter in the
+record of modern sociological activity.</p>
+
+<p>Among his few supporters in what was considered to
+be the exclusive social set, Ruth Tracy was by far the
+most ardent and uncompromising. Here, there, everywhere,
+she proclaimed the righteousness and justice of
+the rector’s cause. Her faith in him was unbounded,
+and her faith was fully evidenced by her works. Her
+mother was scandalized, her father was indifferent, her
+lover was in despair. To seek to restrain from unwise
+and unseemly activity a woman who is actuated by
+religious motives is a delicate and dangerous task, and
+Westgate was not equal to it. He was ready to cross
+swords with any legal opponent, to face any legal proposition
+that might come to his office, to persuade or
+oppose, to construct or crush, as occasion might demand,
+but he had no skill or persuasion or power to turn this
+girl whom he loved aside from the hard path she had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_165"></a>[165]</span>
+deliberately chosen. He had exhausted logic and
+entreaty, without avail. There was left to him but one
+recourse, and that he was not yet ready to adopt.</p>
+
+<p>One afternoon, in the heart of the city, a half dozen
+of the vestrymen of Christ Church met, informally, to
+discuss the situation which, in their judgment, had
+become acute. All but one of them were in favor of
+drastic action, let the action take what form it would.
+That one was Westgate. Again he appeared as a
+conservative. The others demanded that immediate
+steps be taken to oust the offending clergyman from his
+pulpit. Westgate pleaded for delay. He asked for a
+length of time within which he might, as a friend,
+approach the rector and urge upon him the advisability,
+if not the necessity, of a quiet, dignified, unsensational
+resignation, and relinquishment of his office. Since
+the night of the Tracy dinner he had abandoned any
+idea that he might have had that the clergyman would
+listen to reason or to good advice. His only hope
+now was that a vacancy in the pulpit might be brought
+about without a bitter and unseemly conflict. His
+fellow-vestrymen did not agree with him in his view
+of the case. They maintained that the Reverend Mr.
+Farrar was not entitled to so much consideration as
+Westgate proposed to show him. But they finally
+yielded, with the explicit understanding that this was
+to be the last proposal for peace. If it should not be
+accepted they would at once resort to hostile measures.</p>
+
+<p>Westgate was to see Mr. Farrar at the earliest opportunity,
+and report the result of his visit. But it
+was not until two days later that he was able to
+go forth on his unhappy mission. He found the
+minister at home. On his face, as he welcomed his
+visitor, there was no look of apprehension or surprise.
+He was calm, self-assured, quietly expectant. He appeared
+to know, by intuition, the purport of the call.
+Westgate indulged in no prologue, nor did he make
+any excuses or apologies. In courteous phrases, with<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_166"></a>[166]</span>
+the deep concern of a friend, he went at once to the
+heart of his errand.</p>
+
+<p>The rector heard him through without interruption,
+apparently unperturbed.</p>
+
+<p>“I cannot resign,” was his answer.</p>
+
+<p>“Why not?” asked Westgate.</p>
+
+<p>“I will tell you. In the first place it would be a
+tacit admission that I am in the wrong. I cannot
+admit that, for I believe that I am indubitably right.
+In the next place, to resign would be breaking faith
+with the hundreds of humble folk to whom I have
+promised the privileges of Christ Church, and who are
+even now, in a sense, receiving them. Were I to leave
+your pulpit they would be as sheep without a shepherd.
+I do not speak in self-aggrandizement. I simply know
+that no one whom your vestry would be likely to call
+to succeed me could fill, or would try to fill, the place
+which I now hold in their hearts and confidence.
+Were I to go the respect that these people now have
+for the Church would disappear, the religious sensibility
+that has been awakened in them would be destroyed,
+they would go back to their old, churchless, hopeless,
+irreligious life, unreconciled either to God or man. I
+tell you, Westgate, I cannot resign.”</p>
+
+<p>“Do you think that an interest, or even a religion
+based on a mere personal relation to a pastor, is likely
+to become an enduring or a fundamental thing in any
+man’s life?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes; if it is accompanied and followed by conditions
+which make the gospel that is being preached to
+him real and satisfying.”</p>
+
+<p>“But you should know that the people who are
+flocking to Christ Church now are merely seeking new
+sensations. They are improving an opportunity to
+gratify class resentment against the rich and the well-to-do.
+They have no thought of attaching themselves
+permanently to the Church. When the novelty of the
+thing has worn off they are certain to drift away.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_167"></a>[167]</span></p>
+
+<p>“You say that because you do not know them and
+do not believe in them. Give me one year to make
+Christ Church what I would have it to be, and I will
+show you such a permanent turning to righteousness in
+this city on the part of those who hitherto have had no
+use for religion, as will astound the unbelievers in my
+methods.”</p>
+
+<p>His face glowed and his eyes shone with enthusiasm.
+No one, looking on him in that moment, could have
+doubted his intense earnestness. But to Westgate’s
+practical and logical mind the rector’s words carried no
+conviction. He was still calm and deliberate as he
+replied:</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Farrar, I did not come to argue with you concerning
+your theories or your conduct. The time for
+argument has passed, because your mind is irretrievably
+set. I came to make a simple request; that you should
+resign. I ask it for the good of Christ Church.”</p>
+
+<p>“I believe I am acting for the best good of Christ
+Church in refusing.”</p>
+
+<p>“That being your final answer there is no doubt but
+that the vestry as a body will demand your removal as
+rector.”</p>
+
+<p>The ultimatum had come at last, but it brought no
+surprise nor dismay. The rector smiled.</p>
+
+<p>“That announcement,” he said, “is not unexpected,
+nor does it disturb me in the least. I know what my
+rights are under the constitution and canons of the
+Church, and I shall seek to maintain them. I know
+also what my obligations are to the people to whom I
+minister, and to the Church to which I have made my
+ordination vows. Those obligations will not permit
+me either to abandon or to let myself be driven from
+the post to which God in His wisdom has seen fit to
+assign me.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then I am to carry back to the gentlemen who are
+associated with me your refusal and your defiance?”</p>
+
+<p>“My regret rather, and my determination. I am<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_168"></a>[168]</span>
+sorry. These men have been more than kind to me in
+the past. But—I cannot change my mind.”</p>
+
+<p>“Very well. I said to you once that I should oppose
+you openly in the course you were pursuing. I
+have done so, but I have at the same time tried to
+protect you. That protection is at an end. I say
+now, frankly, that I shall use my best effort to force
+you from the pulpit of this church, for I believe you
+are driving the church straight to disaster.”</p>
+
+<p>The rector smiled again, sadly, but his purpose was
+in no wise shaken.</p>
+
+<p>“You are kind to be so frank with me,” he said.
+“You have always been kind to me, and I have been
+fond of you. I shall still be fond of you, because I
+believe you to be honest and sincere, though mistaken.
+We may be adversaries; we cannot be enemies.”</p>
+
+<p>Westgate made no reply. He had reached a point
+where he could not share the friendly feeling of the
+rector. He could not be fond of a man who recklessly
+and obstinately, however conscientiously, refused to
+forego his determination to make Christ Church the
+forfeit in his game of Christian socialism. Moreover—</p>
+
+<p>“There is one other thing I want to speak of at this
+time,” said Westgate, “a personal matter.”</p>
+
+<p>Both men had risen to their feet and had been moving
+slowly toward the door of the study. The lawyer
+stopped and faced the minister. It was evident that
+the “personal matter” was one which lay near to his
+heart, for his face had paled and his jaws were set with
+determination.</p>
+
+<p>“It is this,” he said. “Ruth Tracy has become the
+chief worker for your cause in the parish. I assume
+that it has been your direct influence that has produced
+her present abnormal state of mind. She is under the
+spell of a powerful personality. She is my fiancée. I
+have a right to protect her, and to conserve my own
+happiness. What you have had power to do, you have<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_169"></a>[169]</span>
+power to undo. I ask you now to relinquish your control
+of her conscience and judgment, and to refuse to
+carry her farther with you in a course which can only
+lead her into deep sorrow and great humiliation.”</p>
+
+<p>The Reverend Mr. Farrar did not at once reply. A
+phase of the situation had been presented to him which
+had not before crossed his mind. He had met, and
+had solved to his own satisfaction, every problem in
+the controversy which he could foresee. This one was
+entirely new. But his clear vision and quick judgment
+went at once to the heart of it.</p>
+
+<p>“I have used no persuasion on Miss Tracy,” he said
+at last. “Her absorption in this crusade has been entirely
+due to her own innate sense of righteousness and
+of social justice. For me to seek now to dissuade her
+from any continuance in this work would be to shake
+her faith, and to discredit my own sincerity of purpose.
+I cannot do what you ask.”</p>
+
+<p>Westgate was annoyed. For the first time in all
+this unhappy controversy he felt that forbearance was
+no longer a virtue.</p>
+
+<p>“Then you insist,” he said, “in making selfish use
+of her to advance your own peculiar propaganda, regardless
+of her happiness, or her mother’s peace of
+mind, or of my rights as her affianced lover?”</p>
+
+<p>“I insist on giving her free rein, so far as I am concerned,
+to work out the impulses of a noble mind and
+heart. She has high ideals. I shall assist her, so far
+as I am able, to attain them.”</p>
+
+<p>“Even though in doing so you blast her happiness
+and wreck her life?”</p>
+
+<p>“That is an absurd and irreligious supposition, Westgate.
+I repeat that I shall make no attempt to dissuade
+her from carrying out her high purpose, and you, even
+as her affianced lover, have no right to ask it.”</p>
+
+<p>“I do not ask it any longer, I demand it. I demand
+that you, as an honest man, and as a minister of God,
+unseal that woman’s eyes that she may see.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_170"></a>[170]</span></p>
+
+<p>“As an honest man and a minister of God I shall
+do all that lies in my power to blind her eyes to any
+less worthy object than the advancement of Christ’s
+Kingdom on earth.”</p>
+
+<p>A point had been reached beyond which words were
+vain. With men in whom the animal instinct predominates,
+blows would have been next in order. To
+these gentlemen it was simply apparent that the interview
+was at an end.</p>
+
+<p>Westgate opened the study door to pass out into the
+hall, but, facing him, blocking his way, the rector’s
+wife stood, white-faced and trembling. She had heard
+the high-pitched voices, the demand and the refusal.
+Unreasoning fear possessed her. She threw herself
+into her husband’s arms.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, Robert!” she cried. “What awful thing has
+happened now?”</p>
+
+<p>He laid his hand on her head soothingly.</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t be frightened, dear. It is simply another
+desertion. Mr. Westgate definitely joins our enemies.”</p>
+
+<p>She looked apprehensively at Westgate, and he went
+up to her and took her hand.</p>
+
+<p>“I am not your enemy, Mrs. Farrar,” he said. “I
+never shall be. Whatever happens you shall have
+sympathy and friendship, both from my mother and
+from me, and such help and comfort as we may be permitted
+to give to you.”</p>
+
+<p>“Thank you, Mr. Westgate! You and your mother
+have always been good to us.”</p>
+
+<p>“And we shall continue to be to the best of our
+ability. Good-bye!”</p>
+
+<p>When Westgate had gone she turned again to her
+husband and demanded that he tell her what had happened.
+He did so. He told her plainly of the request
+for his resignation, and of his refusal to consider it.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, why didn’t you do what they asked of you?”
+she wailed. “It would have been so much better than
+keeping up this horrid fight. I am so sick and tired of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_171"></a>[171]</span>
+it. If we could only get away from this dreadful
+place!”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s a splendid place, Alice. It’s the field of
+Armageddon for us. The Lord’s battle is on. Would
+you have me branded as a deserter?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know, Robert. I only know that I’m so
+miserable. If we could only live somewhere, in any
+little place, at peace, and let some one else do the fighting.
+You said, one day, that I shouldn’t have married
+a minister. It hurt me then, but I’ve thought a good
+deal about it since,—and now I know it’s true. I’m
+such a hopeless drag on you.”</p>
+
+<p>“You’re a very great comfort to me, dear.”</p>
+
+<p>It was not true, and he knew in his heart that it was
+not true; but he could say no less and be a Christian
+gentleman.</p>
+
+<p>“Thank you, Robert! And I’ve thought a good
+many times since then that if you only had a wife like
+Ruth Tracy, what a help and blessing she’d be to you.”</p>
+
+<p>This reflection of his own tenuous dream fell upon
+him so unexpectedly, struck him so gruesomely, that,
+for the moment, he could make no reply. And before
+he did find his tongue her thought was diverted into a
+new channel. She suddenly remembered something
+that she had heard at the door.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, Robert, what woman’s eyes were they that
+Mr. Westgate wanted unsealed? Were they mine?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, dear, they were not yours.”</p>
+
+<p>“Whose then?”</p>
+
+<p>“Ruth Tracy’s.”</p>
+
+<p>She backed away a little and looked at him inquiringly.</p>
+
+<p>“Ruth—Tracy’s? I don’t understand. What did
+he mean?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, he appears to think that I have cast some
+sort of a hypnotic spell over Miss Tracy to induce her
+to go along with me in my fight.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s just what Jane Chichester says that so many<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_172"></a>[172]</span>
+people are saying. She told me so yesterday. They
+say that Miss Tracy must be hypnotized, the way she’s
+sacrificing herself in your interest.”</p>
+
+<p>He became a little impatient at that.</p>
+
+<p>“I wish you wouldn’t take so seriously what Miss
+Chichester says. She’s hardly to be depended upon
+where gossip is concerned.”</p>
+
+<p>“But you haven’t, have you, Robert? You haven’t
+cast any spell over her?”</p>
+
+<p>She was entirely serious. So serious that he was
+moved to mirth.</p>
+
+<p>“No,” he replied, after a moment. “I do not possess
+hypnotic powers. Whatever Miss Tracy is doing, she
+is doing entirely of her own free will.”</p>
+
+<p>“She has been a very great help to you, hasn’t
+she?”</p>
+
+<p>“She has been my strongest champion and ablest
+worker.”</p>
+
+<p>“If she could only have been your wife!”</p>
+
+<p>Many times that day and in the days that followed,
+his wife’s wish concerning Ruth Tracy crossed the
+rector’s mind. He did not dwell so much on the spirit
+of self-abnegation which the wish displayed as he did
+upon the contemplation of a woman like Ruth Tracy,
+with her steady helpfulness, her unfailing courage, her
+splendid optimism, being a part of his daily life. It
+was a gracious vision, indeed; warp and woof of
+idealism, with no thread of selfishness running through
+it, nor of disloyalty to the woman whom he had really
+married, and with whom he was still genuinely in love.</p>
+
+<p>Westgate went back to the gentlemen of the vestry
+and reported the result of his errand. They had the
+pleasure of saying, “I told you so,” and set about at
+once to consider ways and means of ridding the pulpit
+of Christ Church, in the speediest and most effective
+manner, of its ungracious and unworthy incumbent.</p>
+
+<p>“I am with you, gentlemen,” said Westgate, “in
+any action you may see fit to take, however drastic.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_173"></a>[173]</span>
+The time for compromise has gone by. It must be a
+fight now to the finish.”</p>
+
+<p>They applauded him, and announced that they were
+ready to take the first step, and asked him what it
+should be. He advised them that the first step was the
+sending of a letter of information from the vestry to the
+bishop. This would require the formal action of the
+vestry as a body, the next regular meeting of which would
+be held the coming Friday evening. It was decided to
+bring the matter up at that time. Lest any charge should
+lie against them of unfairness or lack of good faith,
+they had a notice sent to each member of the vestry,
+and to the rector, to the effect that a resolution would
+be offered at that meeting having for its purpose an
+application to the ecclesiastical authority of the diocese
+for the dissolution of the pastoral relation between the
+incumbent minister and the parish of Christ Church.</p>
+
+<p>At the hour fixed for the meeting every member of
+the vestry was present. They were there with anxious
+and apprehensive minds, dreading yet not avoiding the
+issue which they knew would arise.</p>
+
+<p>The rector was chairman of the meeting as usual.
+It was his right, under the canons, to act as chairman.
+But, when the customary business had been disposed
+of, he called the senior warden, Judge Bosworth, to the
+chair.</p>
+
+<p>“I do this,” he explained, “in order that none of
+you may be embarrassed in any formal action you may
+see fit to take concerning me.”</p>
+
+<p>When the substitution had been made, Westgate
+arose and said that he desired to offer a resolution
+which he had prepared at the request of certain members
+of the vestry. His resolution, which he then read,
+was as follows:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+
+<p>“<em>Whereas</em>, by the XXVI article of our established
+religion it becomes the duty of those
+having knowledge of the offenses of ministers<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_174"></a>[174]</span>
+of the Church to present that knowledge to
+those in authority:</p>
+
+<p>“<em>And Whereas</em>, the members of this vestry
+believe that the Reverend Robert Bruce Farrar,
+minister of Christ Church, has violated certain
+canons of the Church, and certain rubrics of
+the Book of Common Prayer, in that he has
+held and taught publicly, privately and advisedly,
+doctrines contrary to those held by
+the Church; and has officiated at the burial
+of the dead and administered the holy communion
+in a manner contrary to that ordered
+by the said rubrics:</p>
+
+<p>“<em>Therefore, be it Resolved</em> that we, the
+vestry of Christ Church, desire a separation
+and dissolution of the pastoral relation now
+existing between the said minister and the
+parish of Christ Church, and that we present
+a notice in writing to that effect to the Right
+Reverend, the Bishop of this diocese, and pray
+his judgment accordingly.”</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>“I move the adoption of the resolution,” said Mr.
+Hughes.</p>
+
+<p>“I second the motion,” added Mr. Cochrane.</p>
+
+<p>Emberly was on his feet in an instant; but before he
+could speak the rector had risen.</p>
+
+<p>“If my friend Mr. Emberly will pardon me,” he
+said, “and permit me to interrupt him, I desire to say
+that it is my preference that there shall be no controversy
+over this resolution. I am informed that a
+majority of the members of the vestry have already
+pledged themselves to its support. Argument, therefore,
+which might lead to harsh words and unfriendly
+thoughts, and would be a mere waste of the time occupied
+in making it, had better be avoided. However,
+lest there should be any possible doubt as to my attitude,
+let me say now that I deny absolutely the charges<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_175"></a>[175]</span>
+made against me in the preamble to this resolution,
+and that, at the proper time and in the proper place, I
+will defend myself against them.”</p>
+
+<p>Through the tact and good sense of the rector a
+scene had been avoided. The gentlemen of the vestry,
+relieved of apprehension, breathed more freely, and
+Westgate called for the question.</p>
+
+<p>The resolution was adopted without argument.
+Emberly and Hazzard were the only ones who voted
+against it, old Mr. Kay, greatly disturbed in mind
+over the unhappy affair, declining to vote.</p>
+
+<p>Those who had voted “aye” then attached their signatures
+to the resolution, and the next day it was forwarded
+to the bishop of the diocese for his godly consideration.
+When his reply came it was to the effect
+that inasmuch as he intended to make his annual visitation
+to the parish early in February, he would postpone
+a hearing on the charges until that time. What
+he wrote privately to the rector, if he wrote at all, was
+never disclosed.</p>
+
+<p>No attempt was made to keep secret the action taken
+by the vestry at the Friday evening meeting. The
+whole city knew of it the next morning and was accordingly
+aroused. The newspapers which, as a matter
+of journalistic policy, had fought shy of the controversy
+in its earlier stages, now blazoned forth to the public,
+under scare head-lines, the news of the climax of the
+trouble in Christ Church. Whenever two men of the
+parish met each other on the street, or in any business
+or social place, the matter was not only mentioned but
+often freely discussed. Women went far out of their
+way to gossip about it. Jane Chichester had not found
+such absorbing occupation, either for her feet or her
+tongue, in many a day.</p>
+
+<p>Not only the parish, but the whole city was soon
+divided into two hostile camps. Old friendships were
+strained, old relations were severed, and many a gap
+was opened between those who had theretofore walked<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_176"></a>[176]</span>
+side by side. In the barroom of the Silver Star saloon
+a heated controversy over the matter resulted in a fierce
+brawl, bruised bodies, battered faces, and a police-court
+episode the following day.</p>
+
+<p>And Mephistopheles drew his red cloak about him,
+concealed his cloven hoofs therein, sat down in the
+shadow of an age-old olive tree, and smiled in sinister
+content.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_177"></a>[177]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI<br>
+<small>A ROMANTIC EPISODE</small></h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>When the rector of Christ Church learned from
+Ruth Tracy that the Widow Bradley was willing to
+see him, he found an early opportunity to call on her.
+She received him courteously, and listened intently to
+all that he said, but he found her even more reticent
+than she had been on the occasion of his first visit.
+She was, however, interested in his crusade for social
+justice in the Church and asked him many questions
+concerning it. At the conclusion of his visit she freely
+offered to him any assistance which she was capable of
+giving in the carrying on of his fight. The subject of
+personal religion was barely touched upon. The rector
+was too wise to force that matter upon her attention
+prematurely. But, thereafter, the Reverend Mr. Farrar
+had no more devoted adherent in the entire city than
+Mary Bradley, unless indeed it might have been Ruth
+Tracy herself. When Miss Tracy was informed of the
+widow’s attitude toward the conflict in the parish, she
+came again to see her and took counsel with her concerning
+the efforts that might be made among the residents
+of Factory Hill to awaken and further an interest
+in Christ Church and in the cause of its rector. Mrs.
+Bradley again promised her assistance and she gave it.
+She gave it so freely and so effectively that both Miss
+Tracy and the rector came soon to look upon her as one
+of their most valued and faithful advisers and helpers.
+But members of the socialistic body by which she was
+employed complained that her office in the Potter
+Building was becoming a headquarters for religious<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_178"></a>[178]</span>
+propaganda. Stephen Lamar suggested to her one day
+that she was hired to spread the doctrines of socialism
+and not to fight the battles of unorthodox clergymen.
+She laughed at that, and told him that when he came
+to a right understanding of the principles of his creed
+he would know that it all worked to the same end, and
+that to sow dissension in the churches was to advance
+by that much the social millennium. She added, moreover,
+that whenever the League considered that her
+services were not worth her salary, she would gladly
+relinquish her position. He made no further complaint.
+He did not again chide her, as he had done on
+several occasions, for her regular attendance on the
+services at Christ Church. So long as he discovered
+no particular awakening of religious sensibility on her
+part he was content thereafter to let her have her own
+way. As his desire for her increased and grew more
+and more imperious, his caution was augmented, lest
+by his own inadvertence he should thwart the happiness
+to which he confidently looked forward.</p>
+
+<p>But Mary Bradley’s work and influence in behalf of
+the rector of Christ Church and of his cause were not
+confined to the proletariat among whom she dwelt.
+By no means! Her position brought her into contact,
+not with wealthy people, for these rarely have any
+leaning toward socialism; but with a number of persons
+of intellectuality and high standing in the community;
+and among these she awakened, unobtrusively,
+subtly perhaps, an interest in if not a sympathy for the
+fighting rector.</p>
+
+<p>Barry Malleson was one of her converts. He had,
+all his life, been an attendant at Christ Church, his father
+was a liberal contributor to all of its financial needs,
+his mother and sisters, aristocratically pious, were devoted
+to its interests. But, under the influence and
+gentle persuasion of Mary Bradley, proletarian, agnostic,
+revolutionist, Barry Malleson was transformed
+from an outspoken opponent of the rector’s views to a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_179"></a>[179]</span>
+warm supporter of his cause. Not that all this was accomplished
+at a single sitting. It required many interviews,
+interviews which Barry not only freely granted,
+but, if the truth must be told, interviews which he
+diligently sought. He was no stranger at socialistic
+headquarters in the Potter Building. Twice, at least,
+he had been seen walking on the street with the handsome
+secretary. He made no concealment of his admiration
+for her. It was not his nature to conceal
+anything. But, when his friends rallied him on his
+apparent conquest, he admitted that as yet the affair
+was a mere matter of personal friendship, and was
+largely due to a common interest with Mrs. Bradley in
+certain social problems. No one attributed to him any
+improper motive. He had the cleanest of minds. He
+was the farthest of any man in the city from being a
+rake. That was why the public regarded the situation
+so seriously. That was why certain mothers with marriageable
+daughters, who preferred wealth and social
+standing to brilliancy of intellect, deprecated, in sorrowful
+if not severe terms, the young man’s apparent
+infatuation. As for Miss Chichester, she was inconsolable.
+She had tried suggestion, persuasion, intimidation,
+in turn; but all in vain. Barry was good-naturedly
+obstinate. Even in the face of the most
+dreadful prognostications as to what might happen if
+he should continue his relations with the widow, he
+persistently declined to break them off. Yet, in reality,
+Barry had not begun to reach that stage in his siege of
+Mrs. Bradley’s heart which his friends gave him credit
+for having reached. He had spoken no word of love to
+her. He realized that her late consort had departed
+this life so recently as the last September, and that the
+first snow of winter had but lately fallen. And Barry
+was a gentleman. Moreover he had not yet been able to
+overcome a certain diffidence, a slowness of thought, a
+lack of fluency of speech while in her presence. He
+felt that this might be a serious drawback when the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_180"></a>[180]</span>
+time should really come for love-making. For it must
+be admitted that Barry had taken into contemplation
+more than once a proposal of marriage to the widow,
+and the difficulties which might beset it. He could not
+quite understand his own hesitancy. Heretofore he had
+shown perfect self-composure in his association with
+women of all social grades. He had asked Ruth Tracy
+to marry him with as much self-assurance and ease of
+manner as he would have exhibited in asking for another
+cup of coffee at breakfast time. If Jane Chichester
+had appealed to his romantic fancy in the
+slightest degree, he could have proposed marriage to
+her without the quickening of a pulse or the moving
+of an eyelash. But the very thought of approaching
+the Widow Bradley on the subject of love and matrimony
+threw him into a fever and flutter of excitement.</p>
+
+<p>The gradual winning over of Barry to the rector’s
+cause had been attended with some raillery on the part
+of his friends, and some unhappy comments in his presence
+on the part of members of his family. But once
+persuaded he was not easily dissuaded. Not that his
+adherence to either party in the conflict was a matter of
+great moment. He was not a vestryman, he was not a
+communicant, he was without voice, and, broadly speaking,
+without influence in the counsels of the church, yet
+his defection was not without its bearing on the case,
+and he, himself, considered his change of attitude as being
+most significant and important. The matter of the
+controversy weighed heavily on his mind. He gave it
+much time and thought. On more than one occasion
+he interviewed the rector, the several vestrymen, and
+some of the leading women of the church, in a fruitless
+effort to bring about harmony. The questions that had
+arisen occupied his attention to the exclusion of more
+important matters. Their consideration seriously interfered
+with the due performance of the duties that had
+been assigned to him as vice-president of the Malleson
+Manufacturing Company, although it must be admitted<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_181"></a>[181]</span>
+that his neglect, if it was such, did not appear to hamper
+the corporation to any appreciable extent in the carrying
+on of its business. He knew that the resolution for
+the rector’s dismissal was to come before the vestry
+for action on that Friday evening. Every one in the
+city who had any interest at all in the case knew it.
+But there were few who were as greatly disturbed by
+the knowledge as was Barry Malleson. He went in
+the afternoon to see a majority of the vestrymen concerning
+the matter, but, with the exception of Emberly
+and Hazzard, they were all either obdurate or reticent.
+His protests against the proposed action fell generally
+upon stony ground. The next morning he picked up
+the morning paper and ran his eyes over the columns
+until they fell upon the brief but sensational account
+of the action of the vestry the night before.</p>
+
+<p>“Well,” he said, “I see they’ve done it.”</p>
+
+<p>It was at the breakfast table. The members of the
+family were gathered for the morning meal.</p>
+
+<p>“Who’s done what?” asked his sister, Miss Veloura.</p>
+
+<p>“Why,” was the reply, “the vestry has resolved to
+put Farrar out.”</p>
+
+<p>“It’ll be a good riddance,” was the comment of Barry’s
+mother.</p>
+
+<p>“If they could only do the same thing to Ruth
+Tracy,” said the elder sister.</p>
+
+<p>“And the Bradley woman,” added Miss Veloura.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Malleson, the elder, ate his grapefruit and remained
+discreetly silent.</p>
+
+<p>“Why the Bradley woman?” asked Barry, bridling
+up.</p>
+
+<p>“Because she’s a nuisance and a nobody,” was the
+reply.</p>
+
+<p>And then little Miss Ramona, aged fifteen, who had
+heard some of the gossip of the town, rebuked her
+sister in this wise:</p>
+
+<p>“You shouldn’t say such things about Mrs. Bradley,
+Veloura. She may be your sister-in-law yet.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_182"></a>[182]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Horrors!” The ejaculation came from the elder
+sister.</p>
+
+<p>“Have you made up your mind to marry her,
+Barry?” persisted Miss Ramona.</p>
+
+<p>And Barry replied doggedly:</p>
+
+<p>“Yes; if she’ll have me.”</p>
+
+<p>To describe the consternation that reigned at Mr.
+Malleson’s breakfast-table following this answer would
+be to give a fairly good illustration of the meaning of
+the word itself. They all knew, of course, that Barry
+was paying some attention to the widow. Knowledge
+of that fact could not well escape them. Every rich
+young man, however, was entitled to indulge in temporary
+aberrations of fancy, and Barry was indulging
+in his. But to have him really and seriously contemplate
+marriage with the woman! Again, “Horrors!”
+The family gathering broke up in a storm from which
+tears were not entirely absent, and every one lost his
+or her temper save only Barry. He never lost his
+temper. An unkind friend said of him, one day, that
+he had never had any temper to lose. When he rose
+from the breakfast-table he did not wait for his car.
+He put on his hat and overcoat and started down-town
+on foot. He struck into Main Street at the foot of the
+hill and followed it almost its entire length. He did
+not turn off in the direction of the factory, but went
+straight on until he reached the Potter Building, three
+blocks farther down. Ignoring the elevator he mounted
+the staircase to the second floor and entered the room
+occupied by the Socialist League as a headquarters.
+Mrs. Bradley was already there and at work. Moreover
+she was alone. When Barry came in she gave
+him a welcoming smile and word.</p>
+
+<p>“I’m glad you came,” she said. “There are two
+or three things about which I want to talk with
+you.”</p>
+
+<p>“I suppose Farrar’s case is one of them,” said Barry.
+“You know they’ve started to put him out.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_183"></a>[183]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I’ve just been reading about it in the morning
+papers.”</p>
+
+<p>“So have I. That’s what I came for: to see what
+we’re going to do about it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Do? What can we do? They have him beaten.
+He may as well admit it—and take his medicine.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I don’t know about that. It struck me we
+might get up a petition.”</p>
+
+<p>“To whom?”</p>
+
+<p>“To the bishop. They say the whole thing is up to
+the bishop now.”</p>
+
+<p>“Who would sign it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, I thought you might get all those people on
+Factory Hill that go there to church, and I could scuttle
+around among his friends in the city——”</p>
+
+<p>She interrupted him impatiently.</p>
+
+<p>“That would be worse than useless,” she said. “Do
+you think, for one moment, that your bishop of the
+Church would listen to the cry of the poor as against
+the demand of the rich? It’s preposterous!”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I know the bishop. He’s a pretty good fellow.
+I’ve had him out in my car. I might go to him personally
+and explain matters.”</p>
+
+<p>She smiled at that. But she said nothing in derogation
+of Barry’s influence.</p>
+
+<p>“You are one man against fifty of your own class,”
+she remarked. “You could do nothing. It would be
+a waste of time and money to visit the bishop.”</p>
+
+<p>“But, I say, we mustn’t let Farrar get knocked out
+like that, and not do a thing to help him.”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know. I don’t know but it would be a
+mercy to him to withhold all help and encouragement.
+The end would come sooner. The struggle would not
+be so prolonged. The aggregate amount of pain he
+will suffer will be less.”</p>
+
+<p>Barry looked at her with uncomprehending eyes.</p>
+
+<p>“Eh?” he said. “I don’t quite get you.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, they’re bound to destroy him. They’ll do it.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_184"></a>[184]</span>
+That’s a foregone conclusion. It would be vastly better
+for him to make his peace with them now, to abandon
+his heresies along with his poor, and save himself from
+ecclesiastical annihilation. But,” and she looked beyond
+Barry into some sunlit, splendid distance, “if he
+does hold out, if he does defy them, if he does go down
+fighting, he’ll be a hero, like—like his own Jesus Christ.”</p>
+
+<p>The flame was in her cheeks, her eyes were burning,
+her muscles were tense with the stress of her emotion.
+Suddenly she changed the subject. She was again
+calm. Her voice took on its accustomed, musical, well-modulated
+tones.</p>
+
+<p>“There’s another thing,” she said, “about which I
+wanted to speak to you.”</p>
+
+<p>Barry started, as if from sleep. Apparently she
+could cast a spell on him, and waken him from it at
+her will.</p>
+
+<p>“Eh?” he replied; “how was that?”</p>
+
+<p>“There’s another thing,” she repeated, “about which
+I wanted to speak to you.”</p>
+
+<p>“What is it?” he asked.</p>
+
+<p>“It’s about your men. I hear they are dissatisfied
+with the present wage scale, and are going to demand
+concessions when the agreement expires in January.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, I’ve heard something of the kind. But
+there’s no occasion for it. Really there isn’t. The
+men have a very liberal agreement. I signed it myself
+as vice-president of the company last January.”</p>
+
+<p>“Nevertheless the men are dissatisfied with it.
+They’re going to demand a change. The question is
+what are your people going to do for them?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, the matter hasn’t come up. We haven’t
+considered it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Pardon me, but I think it’s time you did. Do not
+misunderstand me. I’m not a member of the Union,
+and I don’t represent the men in any way. But I’m
+interested in them. I feel that they’re deserving of
+better wages than they’re getting, and better conditions<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_185"></a>[185]</span>
+of labor, and that they ought to get those things
+without having to fight for them.”</p>
+
+<p>“But they’ve already got them, Mrs. Bradley.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I know that’s the way you look at it, but you
+don’t see it from the men’s standpoint at all. I wish
+you could. I wish I could make you. I sympathize
+with them so deeply. That’s why I’m interceding for
+them.”</p>
+
+<p>“A—it’s very kind of you.”</p>
+
+<p>“I suppose I ought to go to your father. He’s
+president of the company. But I don’t know him. I
+should be afraid. I hear he’s very stern.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, not so very. That depends on how you happen
+to strike him.”</p>
+
+<p>“I wouldn’t take the chance of making a fortunate
+strike. But it occurred to me that you are vice-president
+of the company, and that’s nearly as important a
+position, and—and I know you.” Her eloquent eyes
+rested on Barry’s for a moment in mute appeal, and
+then modestly dropped. “You’ve been my friend,”
+she continued, “and my adviser. And, somehow, I’m
+not afraid to talk to you.”</p>
+
+<p>She looked up at him shyly, bewitchingly. When
+she looked up at him that way he never failed to lose
+himself completely.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, that’s all right,” he assured her. “You’ve
+nothing to fear from me. I—I wouldn’t hurt you for
+the world.”</p>
+
+<p>“No,” she said, “I know you wouldn’t. I’ve always
+felt that you were perfectly”—she was going to say
+harmless; but she didn’t; she said—“unselfish. And
+so I thought you would let me talk to you about the
+men.”</p>
+
+<p>“You can talk to me about anything, Mrs. Bradley—anything.”</p>
+
+<p>“Thank you! Now, may I ask you what wages the
+men are getting?”</p>
+
+<p>“Certainly! All the way from a dollar sixty for the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_186"></a>[186]</span>
+common laborer up to four dollars a day for the skilled
+workman.”</p>
+
+<p>“Do you call that enough?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, I hadn’t thought about it. But I’m sure no
+better wages are paid anywhere.”</p>
+
+<p>“Perhaps not. But is it enough? Could you, for
+instance, live on a dollar sixty a day?”</p>
+
+<p>“But I’m not a common laborer.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, then, could you live on four dollars a day,
+and—support a family?”</p>
+
+<p>The widow’s eyes dropped again.</p>
+
+<p>“I’m not a skilled workman, either,” protested Barry,
+waiting for the alluring lids to rise.</p>
+
+<p>“No? What are you?”</p>
+
+<p>“I—I’m vice-president of the company.”</p>
+
+<p>“You receive some compensation, I suppose, for performing
+the onerous duties of the position?”</p>
+
+<p>“Sure! I get four hundred dollars a month.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, for the sake of argument, let us say you earn
+that amount. And let us say that Bricky Hoover, for
+instance, earns four dollars a day. Do you work any
+harder for your money than he works for his?”</p>
+
+<p>“But I work with my brains.”</p>
+
+<p>“Your—your what?”</p>
+
+<p>“My brains, Mrs. Bradley.”</p>
+
+<p>There was a little smile about the widow’s mouth,
+but Barry was both unsuspecting and helpless.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes,” she responded. “Well, he works with
+his hands plus his brains, and puts in longer hours than
+you do besides. Why shouldn’t he get at least as much
+for his work as you do for yours?”</p>
+
+<p>“But you don’t consider the responsibility, the—the
+mental burden, the nervous strain, the—the wear and
+tear.”</p>
+
+<p>“Very good! Let us say then that yours is the
+harder job, that it is four times as hard as his. How
+would you like to change places with him, and have it
+easier?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_187"></a>[187]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Mrs. Bradley! The idea!”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, how would you like, then, to change jobs
+with him, and each retain his own salary?”</p>
+
+<p>“Me? Work in the mill, like him, for four hundred
+dollars a month?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“I couldn’t think of it, Mrs. Bradley. Really, I
+couldn’t.”</p>
+
+<p>Barry looked down at his smooth, white hands with
+their well-manicured extremities, at his carefully creased
+trousers and his highly-polished shoes.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Bradley laughed a little, but not tantalizingly
+nor maliciously.</p>
+
+<p>“Well,” she said, “then we’ll not compel you to
+make the change. But, assuming that you work
+equally hard, can you give me any good reason why
+you should receive four times as much pay as he does?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why—why, I can’t think of any just at this moment.
+But there is one. I’m sure there is one.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then let’s figure the thing out a little farther.
+You are both men with hearts, brains, bodies, ambitions,
+desires. There is no natural law which gives
+one preference over the other. An hour of his time is
+worth as much to him, as a man, as an hour of your
+time is worth to you. An hour’s labor takes as much
+of his effort, strength, vitality, as an hour’s labor takes
+of yours. Why should he get one hundred dollars a
+month for what he gives to society, and you get four
+hundred dollars a month for what you give?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, I—I never thought of it just that way.”</p>
+
+<p>“Think of it that way, Mr. Malleson. Look at it
+occasionally from the standpoint of the man who works
+for wages. If he works equally hard with you to produce
+the profits that your company earns, why shouldn’t
+he share equally with you in the matter of compensation
+for his work?”</p>
+
+<p>“Honestly, Mrs. Bradley, I don’t know.”</p>
+
+<p>“I thought you didn’t. I thought you hadn’t considered<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_188"></a>[188]</span>
+it. I wish you would consider it, Mr. Malleson.
+And when the men come to you with their plea or
+demand for better wages or conditions, especially the
+dollar sixty men, look at the matter from their standpoint,
+for once, and be fair with them.”</p>
+
+<p>Having concluded her appeal, she rested her elbows
+on the table, put her hands against her cheeks, and
+looked him through with her splendid eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Poor Barry! He had neither will nor wit nor logic
+to refute her argument or pierce the fallacy with which
+it was enmeshed. Indeed, under the spell of her eyes
+and voice, he felt himself drifting helplessly toward
+the shoals of that socialism which he never understood
+but always abhorred.</p>
+
+<p>“Mrs. Bradley,” he replied, finally, “I—I shall do
+my duty.”</p>
+
+<p>“I knew you would,” she said. “I knew you would
+be just and generous, because”—her eyes went down
+again—“because you have been both just and generous
+to me.”</p>
+
+<p>Her voice came like soft music to Barry’s ears, attuned
+to receive it. Before his eyes floated a roseate
+haze. And up, out of the haze, looming uncertainly
+but with great promise, he saw the shadowy outline of
+an opportunity. It came upon him so suddenly that it
+almost took away his breath. It must have been instinct
+or intuition; it certainly was not quickness of
+thought which led him to grasp it.</p>
+
+<p>“No one,” he heard himself say, “could help being
+just and generous to you.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why do you say that, Mr. Malleson?”</p>
+
+<p>“I—I don’t know.” He was beginning to flounder
+again. “Yes, I do.” There was a sudden accession
+of courage. “It’s because it’s true. It’s because you
+deserve it. It’s—it’s because everybody likes you.”</p>
+
+<p>“You are trying to flatter me, Mr. Malleson.”</p>
+
+<p>“No, honestly, I’m not. I mean it. I mean that
+you—I might say—without qualification——”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_189"></a>[189]</span></p>
+
+<p>He was hopelessly entangled and had to stop. She
+came unobtrusively to his aid.</p>
+
+<p>“I think I understand you,” she said. “It’s delightful
+to be appreciated by—those whom you appreciate.”</p>
+
+<p>For the fourth time in ten minutes her eyes were
+veiled by her lashes. It’s a fascinating trick when the
+rest of the countenance is in complete harmony with it.</p>
+
+<p>The opportunity already partially grasped was taking
+on substance and a definite outline. Something whispered
+to Barry that he should take a firmer hold. He
+leaned across the table toward the charming secretary,
+and started in again.</p>
+
+<p>“A—speaking for myself,” he said, “I may say I’ve
+admired a good many women, but I’ve never admired
+anybody quite so much as I do you.”</p>
+
+<p>Well spoken, Barry! She couldn’t fail to understand
+that. That she did understand it was evidenced
+by the deepening flush in her cheeks, by the nervous
+tapping of her finger-tips on the surface of the table,
+by the slight tremulousness in her voice as she asked:</p>
+
+<p>“What is there to admire about me, Mr. Malleson?”</p>
+
+<p>“Your beauty, for one thing,” answered Barry
+promptly.</p>
+
+<p>“I thought I was very plain.”</p>
+
+<p>It is remarkable with what a clear conscience a
+woman can lie when she is deprecating what she knows
+to be her own charms.</p>
+
+<p>“But you’re not,” protested Barry. “There isn’t a
+woman in my set, in fact there isn’t a woman in the
+upper grade of society in this city, one half so handsome
+as you are.”</p>
+
+<p>Barry’s tongue was becoming loosened by his earnestness.
+The widow’s eyes narrowed a trifle, but if there
+was any danger behind them they did not reveal it.</p>
+
+<p>“And if that were true what advantage would it be
+to me,” she asked, “belonging as I do to the lower
+classes?”</p>
+
+<p>Barry’s answer came promptly and decisively.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_190"></a>[190]</span></p>
+
+<p>“It has been of advantage to you, Mrs. Bradley. It
+has attracted me to you.”</p>
+
+<p>She looked at him curiously.</p>
+
+<p>“It is not always wise or prudent,” she said, “for
+women belonging to the lower classes to attract rich
+and aristocratic young gentlemen to them.”</p>
+
+<p>“But I’m in earnest, Mrs. Bradley. I’m awfully in
+earnest. I—I must have you.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Malleson!”</p>
+
+<p>“Pardon me! I didn’t mean it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Malleson!”</p>
+
+<p>“I mean I did mean it, but I didn’t mean it offensively.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I’m so relieved. A woman in my station in
+life has to be so exceedingly careful of her reputation.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s all right, Mrs. Bradley. I wouldn’t do a
+thing, or say a thing to in any way—to——”</p>
+
+<p>“Thank you!”</p>
+
+<p>“And, besides, I’m honest in all this—dead honest.
+I mean it; really, I do.”</p>
+
+<p>There was no doubt about his earnestness. His face
+glowed with it. His hands twitched with it. Every
+line of the body that he bent toward her was eloquent
+with it.</p>
+
+<p>“Just what do you mean, Mr. Malleson?”</p>
+
+<p>“I—I mean that I love you.”</p>
+
+<p>It was out at last. No “honey-tongued Anacreon”
+could have said more to express his meaning. She sat
+across the table from him. She had taken one hand
+from her cheek and was pressing it against her heart.
+Her eyes were downcast. Her face was flushed with
+excitement. Between her half-parted lips her white
+teeth shone. Her labored respiration was manifest
+even to Barry’s untutored eyes. If Stephen Lamar
+had seen her in that moment and in that mood his
+impetuosity would have leaped its bounds. Barry was
+indeed fascinated but he was not propelled.</p>
+
+<p>She lifted her eyes slowly to his.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_191"></a>[191]</span></p>
+
+<p>“You—love me?” she asked.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, Mrs. Bradley.”</p>
+
+<p>It seemed a full minute that she sat there looking at
+him. Finally she said:</p>
+
+<p>“Do you know what love is?”</p>
+
+<p>And he replied:</p>
+
+<p>“Why, certainly! I’m in it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, but I mean do you really comprehend it?”
+And without waiting for a reply she went on impulsively:
+“Do you know how beautiful it is? how
+wonderful? how terrible? Do you?”</p>
+
+<p>The questions came with such force and rapidity that
+Barry sat stunned and speechless. But it was not
+necessary that he should answer her; she did not expect
+a reply. She turned her face away from him and
+looked out, through the one dim window of her room,
+on the dead-wall of the building that fronted on the
+other street. What or whom did she see beyond that
+square of tempered light that her eyes grew moist and
+tender, and her face radiant with a light that only
+great love can bring? Not Barry, indeed! He still
+sat speechless, motionless, bewildered, utterly at a loss
+to know what to do or to say. The silence was broken
+at last by Mrs. Bradley herself. She sighed and turned
+back toward him.</p>
+
+<p>“Pardon me!” she said. “I did not mean to be
+abrupt. And you are very good to tell me all this.
+But, you know, there are reasons why I can’t listen
+to love-making—at least not yet.”</p>
+
+<p>Barry awoke. His mind grasped her meaning. Her
+widowhood was so recent. She must honor it. He
+honored her for respecting it.</p>
+
+<p>“True!” he said. “I understand. I’ll wait. I was
+only filing a lien anyway.”</p>
+
+<p>She smiled a little at that.</p>
+
+<p>“Thank you!” she replied. “Now, to go back to
+Mr. Farrar. I’ve changed my mind about him. I
+think he ought to be encouraged, heartened, helped.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_192"></a>[192]</span>
+Do it, Mr. Malleson. Do all you can for him. Get
+every one else to do everything in their power to hold
+up his hands in this splendid fight he’s making against
+aristocratic tyranny.”</p>
+
+<p>“I will, Mrs. Bradley. You can rest assured that
+my hat’s in the ring for him. I’ll go see him this
+morning and ask what I can do. No, I can’t see him
+this morning. I promised Jane Chichester to take her
+out in my car to Blooming Grove, and I suppose I’ve
+got to do it, or I won’t hear the end of it. But I’m
+with him, Mrs. Bradley, heart and soul.”</p>
+
+<p>She smiled again, and rose and gave him her hand.</p>
+
+<p>“Thank you so much!” she said as she permitted
+her hand to remain in his grasp. “You are a real
+crusader.”</p>
+
+<p>Barry did not know just what a crusader was, but
+he did know that Mrs. Bradley smiled on him, and
+looked at him out of eloquent eyes, and he went out
+from her presence with such a buoyant sensation of
+pride and happiness as, in all his life before, he had
+never experienced.</p>
+
+<p>After he had gone the secretary of the Socialist
+League turned again to her books and papers, but she
+did not resume her work. Instead she sat staring out
+through the dim window at the dead-wall across the
+area. What was there about a dead-wall that could,
+with such foreboding significance, so hold her gaze?</p>
+
+<p>A woman entered her office and interrupted her
+musings. She turned toward her visitor impatiently,
+but not discourteously.</p>
+
+<p>“I have not yet had an opportunity,” she said, in
+answer to the woman’s inquiry, “to take up your matter
+with the directors of the League.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then I hope you’ll soon find one,” was the reply.
+“You should know that it is of the utmost importance,
+both to your organization and to ours, that we should
+know definitely and without delay where you stand in
+the matter.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_193"></a>[193]</span></p>
+
+<p>“There is no question about where we stand in the
+matter, Mrs. Dalloway. Our organization is wholly in
+sympathy with your movement. We should not be
+socialists if we were not. It’s one of our cardinal doctrines
+that women are entitled to equal rights with men
+in everything.”</p>
+
+<p>“I know it is,” replied the visitor sharply. “But
+theory is one thing and practice is another. I want to
+see your organization actually and definitely doing
+something for woman suffrage.”</p>
+
+<p>The secretary turned toward her books.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll bring your matter before the board,” she said,
+“at the earliest opportunity.”</p>
+
+<p>“Very well. See that you do.”</p>
+
+<p>And the society suffragist flounced out as abruptly
+as she had entered.</p>
+
+<p>But Mrs. Bradley did not yet take up her tasks. She
+sat with her face in her hands in silent contemplation.
+After a little while she rose and began pacing up and
+down the floor of her office. It was apparent that for
+some reason she was greatly perturbed. Was it because
+Barry Malleson had made love to her? Poor Barry!
+He was as far from Mary Bradley’s thought in that
+moment as her thought was from the golden streets of
+the New Jerusalem.</p>
+
+<p>Finally she took down her hat and coat from the peg
+where they were hanging, put them on, and went out
+into the street.</p>
+
+<p>At the first corner she met Stephen Lamar. He was
+in a jocose mood.</p>
+
+<p>“‘Where are you going, my pretty maid?’” he
+asked her.</p>
+
+<p>“‘I’m going to school, kind sir, she said.’”</p>
+
+<p>“‘May I go with you, my pretty maid?’”</p>
+
+<p>“You would be turned out, and have to feed on
+grass,” she answered him.</p>
+
+<p>“But I would be feeding on clover while I was with
+you.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_194"></a>[194]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Steve, I’m in no mood for pleasantries this morning.
+I want to be let alone.”</p>
+
+<p>“Where are you going?”</p>
+
+<p>“It would not be profitable for you to know.”</p>
+
+<p>He looked at her curiously for a moment before
+speaking again. Finally he said:</p>
+
+<p>“They gave your preacher a slap in the face last
+night.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. What are you going to do about it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Nothing. It’s none of my business.”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s the business of every fair and decent man in
+this city.”</p>
+
+<p>He bit his lip, but he did not reply in kind. He
+simply asked, for the third time:</p>
+
+<p>“Where are you going?”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m going to see Mr. Farrar.”</p>
+
+<p>“What for?”</p>
+
+<p>“To offer him my sympathy—and help.”</p>
+
+<p>“You’re going on a fool’s errand.”</p>
+
+<p>She did not resent the remark. She said quietly:</p>
+
+<p>“It may be, but—I’m going.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mary, I don’t approve of it.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m not concerned about your approval.”</p>
+
+<p>“Have I no rights whatever?”</p>
+
+<p>“None that interfere with my duties.”</p>
+
+<p>He made no further attempt to dissuade her. He
+knew how utterly useless it would be. He contented
+himself with saying:</p>
+
+<p>“There’ll be no peace in this city till that man is a
+thousand miles away.”</p>
+
+<p>And she replied: “It’s war that this city needs, not
+peace.”</p>
+
+<p>He stood on the corner and watched her out of sight,
+but he made no attempt to follow her. That would
+have been rash and futile.</p>
+
+<p>Threading her way along the busy thoroughfare, she
+passed through the heart of the city and turned into a
+cross street. At the end of the second block she was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_195"></a>[195]</span>
+in the shadow of the spire of Christ Church. Just
+beyond, across the lawn whitened by the first December
+snow, stood the rectory. Her heart began to fail
+her when she saw it. Her gait lessened; an unreasoning
+fear swept down upon her. It seemed to her that
+the snow on the lawn hid some tragic thing which she
+dared not pass by. She stopped, turned, and would
+have retraced her steps had not the high-pitched voice
+of a newsboy a block away come at that moment to
+her ears.</p>
+
+<p>“<em>Mornin’ Mail!</em> All ’bout the trouble in Christ
+Church!”</p>
+
+<p>She clenched her gloved hands, faced the rectory,
+went up the walk, mounted the steps and rang the bell.
+A maid admitted her, announced her, and ushered her
+into the library. The rector came in from his study
+and greeted her cordially. Burdened and care-worn
+indeed he seemed to be, but not harassed nor dismayed.
+And when she saw that his faith was not dimmed nor
+his courage broken, the old diffidence came back upon
+her; the diffidence that always embarrassed her in his
+presence, and she could not talk. The errand she had
+had in mind seemed to have faded away.</p>
+
+<p>“It’s nothing much that I came for,” she said
+brokenly.</p>
+
+<p>“You do not need an errand when you come here,”
+he assured her. “You are always welcome.”</p>
+
+<p>“But I believe it was about what your vestry did
+last—night.”</p>
+
+<p>“They did what I have long been expecting them to
+do. It was no surprise to me.”</p>
+
+<p>“And I wanted to tell you that if there is anything
+I can possibly do——”</p>
+
+<p>She paused, and he came to her assistance.</p>
+
+<p>“Thank you, Mrs. Bradley! You have already
+done heroic service for me. You have defended me in
+quarters where it was vitally important that I should
+not be misunderstood.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_196"></a>[196]</span></p>
+
+<p>His commendation brought a new flush to her
+cheeks.</p>
+
+<p>“I want to be still more helpful,” she said. “Tell
+me what else to do.”</p>
+
+<p>He might have urged her, then, to accept his religion.
+The way was open for such an appeal, but he
+did not make it. It did not seem to him that the time
+was yet ripe. He simply replied:</p>
+
+<p>“You are more than kind. There is little that any
+one can do. It is a matter now for the bishop.”</p>
+
+<p>“So Barry Malleson told me. He is very much concerned
+about you.”</p>
+
+<p>“He has been very faithful. While not believing
+fully in my theories he has, nevertheless, believed fully
+in me, and has stood up valiantly in my defense. I believe
+I am indebted to you for that, Mrs. Bradley. I
+am told that it was you who converted him to my
+cause. In fact he has told me so himself.”</p>
+
+<p>“He flatters me.”</p>
+
+<p>“He admires you. And it is not a long road which
+leads from admiration to love.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why do you say that, Mr. Farrar?”</p>
+
+<p>“Because I want to bring you two together. Because
+such a friendship would be a practical exemplification
+of the doctrine I have been preaching.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Farrar, my widowhood has been very recent.”</p>
+
+<p>“Pardon me if I have trespassed! In considering
+eternal verities I had forgotten temporal misfortunes.”</p>
+
+<p>“And I shall not marry again.”</p>
+
+<p>“Do not say that, Mrs. Bradley. You have, Providence
+permitting, many years to live. It is not quite
+meet that you should pass them in loneliness.”</p>
+
+<p>“To marry, one must first love.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s very true.”</p>
+
+<p>“And I—I must love—blindly!”</p>
+
+<p>She brought out the word with desperate, yearning
+emphasis.</p>
+
+<p>“And may you not love blindly?” he asked.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_197"></a>[197]</span></p>
+
+<p>He could not fathom, at that moment, the mystery
+that lay back of her marvelous, grief-burdened eyes;
+but, long afterward, he remembered the way she looked
+upon him, and then he knew.</p>
+
+<p>“God forbid!” she cried. Then, suddenly, the incongruity,
+the boldness, the unwomanliness of what
+she had been saying flashed upon her, and she covered
+her face with her hands. Seeing how great was her
+perturbation he sought to soothe her.</p>
+
+<p>“Never mind!” he said; “we’ll not discuss it any
+more now. Some other time perhaps.”</p>
+
+<p>She took her hands down from her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>“No, not any other time,” she declared. “Not ever
+again. I can’t—bear it.”</p>
+
+<p>“As you wish. I’m so sorry to have distressed you.
+And you came to comfort me, and to offer help.”</p>
+
+<p>“I still offer it.”</p>
+
+<p>“And the time will come when you shall give it in
+even greater abundance than you have given it in the
+past.”</p>
+
+<p>She had already risen to go, and she took his proffered
+hand. His grasp was so firm and strong and
+friendly—and lingering. The door of the rectory
+closed behind her, and with colorless face and mist-covered
+eyes she groped her way to the street.</p>
+
+<p>As she turned into the main thoroughfare she saw
+the Malleson car go by, and in it were Barry and Jane
+Chichester, each in a fur coat, bound presumably for
+Blooming Grove.</p>
+
+<p>But Mary Bradley walked back to the Potter Building,
+to the narrow, second floor rear room which constituted
+the office of the Socialist League, hung her
+plain hat and coat on their accustomed peg, took out
+her books and papers, and applied herself to her tasks.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_198"></a>[198]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII<br>
+<small>THE FIRST CALAMITY</small></h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>Three days after the vestry meeting at which the
+resolution of dismissal was adopted, Westgate received
+a note from his fiancée asking him to call that evening.
+He was not slow to read between the lines of her message
+the fact that she desired to talk with him about
+the Farrar case. From the day of their Sunday walk
+the preceding September their differences concerning
+the trouble in the church had grown ever greater. The
+matter had been discussed between them many times
+and with great frankness, but of late the discussions
+had not been marked by that intimacy of feeling which
+had before characterized them. The controversy had
+not been unfriendly, but it had been fruitless and deadening.
+Nor was there any longer any hope of a reconciliation
+of opinion. While Ruth became more and
+more deeply absorbed in the regeneration of the church
+after the manner advocated by its rector, and gave
+increasingly of her time and ability to the crusade,
+Westgate, on the contrary, became more thoroughly
+convinced that the entire scheme was Utopian, impractical
+and visionary, and must end in disaster to the
+church, and in eventual defeat and humiliation for
+those who were engaged in it. To both of the lovers
+the situation was poignant and extreme. Westgate
+felt it the most deeply because for him there were no
+compensations. He had not the spiritual absorption in
+the contest that would lead to a certain satisfaction of
+the soul whether it were won or lost. His interest was
+simply that of a man convinced of the mighty economic<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_199"></a>[199]</span>
+value of the Church to the community, and willing to
+fight for its integrity. To win his fight and thereby
+lose his sweetheart would be an empty and a bitter
+victory. To yield his honest convictions and play the
+hypocrite in order to retain her confidence and love
+would be cowardly and base. In no direction could he
+see light or hope. But with Ruth the case was different.
+Filled with religious zeal she was fighting for an
+ideal. That in itself was soul-satisfying. Even out of
+defeat would spring joy that she had fought. Her
+lover’s approval, even his affection, was not a <i lang="la">sine qua
+non</i> to her. His image in her heart was often overshadowed
+by her absorption in the struggle for new
+life in the Church. The heroic figure of her rector,
+battling against odds, with splendid confidence in the
+justice of his cause, loomed ever larger in her mind as
+she went forth with him into the thick of the contest.
+Not that she was in any way disloyal to her lover. He
+was still her heart’s high choice. But a greater thing
+than human love had entered her soul, a thing that
+called for sacrifice and sharp self-denial, even to the
+breaking, if necessary, of earth’s dearest ties.</p>
+
+<p>Westgate knew all this, so it was with no anticipation
+of a joyful meeting that he called upon her in response
+to her request.</p>
+
+<p>There was no lack of cordiality in her greeting, but
+her face bore a look of determination that he had not
+often seen there. She did not waste time in explaining
+the purpose of her request.</p>
+
+<p>“I asked you to come,” she said, “because I have
+learned that it was you who prepared and offered the
+resolution in the vestry meeting calling for the dismissal
+of the rector.”</p>
+
+<p>“It was I,” he replied.</p>
+
+<p>“And I wanted to know whether you acted solely
+in the belief that it would be for the good of the
+church to have him go, or whether you were actuated
+by some other motive.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_200"></a>[200]</span></p>
+
+<p>“I will tell you frankly. I had two motives for my
+conduct. In the first place I believed, and still believe,
+that I was acting for the best interests of Christ Church.
+In the second place it is my desire to secure Mr. Farrar’s
+removal from this community so that you shall be
+outside the sphere of his influence.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why do you wish that?”</p>
+
+<p>She did not seem to be surprised or vexed at the outspoken
+declaration of his purpose.</p>
+
+<p>“Because,” he replied, “I want to give you an opportunity
+to be restored to mental health; and I want to
+give myself an opportunity to regain so much of your
+confidence and affection as I have already lost.”</p>
+
+<p>“If it were true that you had lost them, Philip,
+would it not be your own fault?”</p>
+
+<p>“No. I place the blame wholly on this man who
+has influenced you to my detriment.”</p>
+
+<p>“You misjudge him, Philip, and you misunderstand
+me. I have not been overpersuaded, and I am not abnormal.
+If it were true that I have lost my mental
+balance, and if you wanted to restore it, you have gone
+about it in quite the wrong way. To attempt to shatter
+a cause on which my heart is set, and to initiate a
+movement to discredit and disgrace the bravest and
+most high-souled and far-seeing man that ever preached
+the gospel of Christ from any pulpit in this city; that
+is not the way to quiet my mind, or to retain my confidence
+and affection.”</p>
+
+<p>She said it with determination, but not in anger, for
+her eyes were moist and her lip was trembling.</p>
+
+<p>He, man that he was, was not able to hold himself
+in quite so complete control.</p>
+
+<p>“Listen, Ruth!” he exclaimed. “This man who is
+now your ideal will some day be shattered into his
+original elements. Of this I have no doubt. If he
+will then remake himself on sound principles, there
+will still be in him vast possibilities for good. As it is,
+he is a menace to the Church and a destroyer of human<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_201"></a>[201]</span>
+happiness. Pardon me, but I cannot look with equanimity
+on such a situation as faces me to-night.”</p>
+
+<p>“And it is a situation that is not necessary. It is all
+so very sad because it is so very unnecessary.”</p>
+
+<p>“What do you mean by that, Ruth?”</p>
+
+<p>“I mean that if you would only see these things as I
+do; they are so perfectly plain; if you would only join
+me in this work; it is so inspiring; you would be such
+a help, such a power, a man to be honored and idealized.
+Oh, Philip! If I have loved you before, I would
+worship you then!”</p>
+
+<p>She leaned toward him with clasped hands, flushed
+face, eyes that were burdened with yearning. He
+went over to her and put his arm about her shoulder
+as she sat.</p>
+
+<p>“You are tempting me, Ruth. You know that I
+would give up everything that an honest man could
+give up for your sake. But if I were to stultify myself
+you would only despise me in the end.”</p>
+
+<p>“That is true, Philip. Whatever you do must be
+done in sincerity. You must believe in the cause.”</p>
+
+<p>“And that is so utterly impossible.”</p>
+
+<p>“And so grievously sad.”</p>
+
+<p>She sighed, and folded her hands in her lap, and
+looked away into immaterial distance. After a moment
+she added:</p>
+
+<p>“But at least it is not necessary that you should
+openly and aggressively join Mr. Farrar’s enemies.”</p>
+
+<p>“I should be less than a man,” he replied, “to hold
+the opinions that I do and fail to oppose both him and
+his destructive schemes.”</p>
+
+<p>“And you are determined to crush him if you
+can?”</p>
+
+<p>“I am determined to put an end, if possible, to his
+mischievous activities in this parish. No other course
+is open to me.”</p>
+
+<p>She lifted Westgate’s arm from her shoulder, rose,
+crossed over to the window, held back the curtain, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_202"></a>[202]</span>
+looked out into the night. When she turned back into
+the room it was apparent, from the look on her face,
+that her resolution was fixed.</p>
+
+<p>“Philip,” she said, “I believe it will be better for
+both of us to break our engagement to marry.”</p>
+
+<p>“Ruth, you are beside yourself!”</p>
+
+<p>“No; I am quite sane, and I am very much in
+earnest. I have thought it all out, and I have made
+up my mind. We are better apart. I release you
+from any obligation on your part; I want to be released
+from any obligation on mine.”</p>
+
+<p>“Ruth! I can’t do that. It’s not necessary. It’s
+absurd! Within the next six months this trouble will
+all have blown over. Must I do without you for a
+lifetime because of a flurry like this?”</p>
+
+<p>He went toward her and would have taken her
+hands in his, but she moved away from him.</p>
+
+<p>“No, Philip, it’s not absurd. This trouble, as you
+say, may all have gone by in six months; but that
+doesn’t matter. I am convinced to-night that we are
+so—so fundamentally different; so diametrically opposed
+to each other in all of our ideals concerning those
+things which are really worth while, that there never
+could be any harmony between us, never. It is fortunate
+that we have discovered it in time.”</p>
+
+<p>“Ah, but you mistake the true basis for harmony.
+It doesn’t lie in having the same religious beliefs, or
+even in having the same ethical ideals. It lies
+in——”</p>
+
+<p>“Please don’t, Philip! You only hurt me; and it’s
+useless. My mind is completely made up, and I want
+to end it—now.”</p>
+
+<p>He looked at her for a long time without answering.
+He was debating with himself. Perhaps, after all, she
+was right. Perhaps it would be wise to give her rein
+to-night, to release her from her promise, and to win
+her back when she should be disillusioned, as in time
+she surely would be. And yet he could not quite<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_203"></a>[203]</span>
+bring himself to the point of yielding. His silence
+filled her with apprehension. She looked at him with
+frightened eyes.</p>
+
+<p>“Philip,” she pleaded, “if you have ever loved me,
+you will let me go free.”</p>
+
+<p>Still he did not answer her.</p>
+
+<p>“Philip! I demand it. It is my right as a
+woman.”</p>
+
+<p>“Very well. I submit. I will not hold you against
+your will. You are free.”</p>
+
+<p>She went up to him then and took both his hands in
+hers.</p>
+
+<p>“Thank you, dear!” she said. “You are so good.
+You were always good to me. You have never been
+kinder to me than you have been to-night. You have
+never been dearer to me than you are at this moment.”</p>
+
+<p>Holding his hands thus she lifted her face to his and
+kissed him.</p>
+
+<p>Buffeting the wind and snow as he journeyed homeward
+that night, Westgate thought little of the December
+blasts. His mind was filled with the tragic
+climax of his one great love. He knew that she
+looked upon her act as irrevocable, as the definite
+parting of ways that would never again be joined,
+and that he had no right to consider it otherwise.
+But, out of the clouds and darkness that surrounded
+him, one momentous fact thrust itself in upon his
+memory: in the midst of her cruelty to him she had
+kissed him. She had not declared that she would be
+his friend; she had not hoped that he would be happy;
+she had not promised to pray for him; she had not
+said any of the inane things that most girls feel it incumbent
+on them to say on such occasions, and for that
+he was duly grateful; but—she had kissed him.</p>
+
+<p>The breaking of the engagement between Westgate
+and Ruth Tracy was more than a nine days’ wonder.
+As the fact became known, and no attempt was made
+to conceal it, the parish was stirred anew. Every one<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_204"></a>[204]</span>
+surmised correctly the causes that had led to it, and all
+were agreed that it was a most unfortunate ending to
+an ideal romance. Ruth’s mother, when she was told
+of it, collapsed. For three days she housed herself and
+was inconsolable. She had grown to be very fond of
+Westgate. And for once Ruth’s father dropped his
+reticence, and expressed himself in language which,
+though fluent, was not quite fit for Ruth to listen to,
+and certainly would have been entirely inappropriate
+for public repetition. For he, too, was fond of his
+junior partner, he had great respect for the young
+man’s proved ability, and he had looked forward with
+intense satisfaction to his coming marriage with Ruth.</p>
+
+<p>By no one was the news of the broken engagement
+received with approval, unless, possibly, by the rector
+of Christ Church. Not that he was indifferent to the
+disappointment or suffering of others; by no means.
+But the separation cleared the way for Ruth’s progress
+toward higher realms of Christian service. It would
+permit her to give her undivided allegiance to the
+work in which he himself was so vitally interested.
+That it was a selfish consideration on his part did not
+occur to him. That the event was the first logical
+calamity, the first tragic result of an ill-considered
+crusade, or that it was the forerunner of still more
+tragic events which the future was bound to bring,
+never once crossed his mind. One of his former
+friends, commenting on the minister’s failure to see
+the trend of circumstances, said that the man was living
+in a fool’s paradise.</p>
+
+<p>But the fact of the breaking of the engagement was
+food and drink to Jane Chichester. Not that she personally
+had anything at stake. But she loved a sensation.
+She would almost have given her chance of salvation
+to have heard the conversation between Westgate
+and Ruth on the night of the separation. From
+every one whom she met, either by chance or design,
+she gleaned what information she could concerning the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_205"></a>[205]</span>
+unhappy event; and, not even then filled to repletion,
+she resolved to call at the first decent opportunity on
+Ruth herself, and learn at first hand, if possible, the intimate
+details of the tragedy. Mary Bradley too was
+interested; and not only interested but deeply concerned.
+Not that she deprecated the breaking of the
+engagement. Quite the contrary. She had never felt
+that a woman with Ruth Tracy’s ideals could be happy
+with a man like Westgate, apostle of conservatism,
+pledged to the perpetuation of the present iron-clad
+social order, a man toward whom her resentment had
+never waned since the day he had compassed her defeat
+in a court of law. But for Miss Tracy she had an ever-growing
+respect, and admiration, and fondness. While
+she regarded her as still bound, in a way, by religious
+superstition, and the conventions of society, she nevertheless
+gave her credit for having noble aspirations, and
+for seeking by every possible means to realize them.
+And especially did she give her credit for having cast
+off such a drag on her ambitions as Westgate was and
+always would have been. It was a fine and courageous
+thing to do, and more fine and courageous because she
+undoubtedly loved him. Mary Bradley felt that she
+wanted to tell her so; that she wanted to give her a
+word of encouragement and comfort and hope. In
+spite of many invitations from Ruth to do so, she had
+never yet called at the Tracy house. She had felt that
+such action would be not quite consistent, either with
+her social position or her present vocation. But the
+time had come now to cast these considerations aside,
+to visit Ruth Tracy in her home, to invade the precincts
+of aristocracy and conservatism, and carry courage
+and comfort to the “prisoner of hope” environed
+there by subtle and antagonistic forces.</p>
+
+<p>So, one cold, clear December afternoon, she made
+her way to the unfamiliar neighborhood of Fountain
+Park. It was the same afternoon that Jane Chichester
+had chosen for her call on Ruth. Miss Chichester had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_206"></a>[206]</span>
+found her intended victim at home, and had sought, by
+various artifices, to draw from her the true story of the
+breaking of the engagement. But Ruth either did not
+or would not understand her visitor’s desire, and the
+probability was each minute growing stronger that
+Miss Chichester would depart entirely barren of the information
+which she had come to secure. It was at
+this juncture that Mrs. Bradley was announced. Miss
+Chichester caught the name.</p>
+
+<p>“Good heavens!” she exclaimed, in a stage whisper;
+“is it that socialist widow?”</p>
+
+<p>Miss Tracy nodded.</p>
+
+<p>“Then, for goodness’ sake, let me escape.”</p>
+
+<p>“No, Jane, you stay right where you are.”</p>
+
+<p>By this time the maid was ushering the visitor into
+the presence of the other two women. It was not
+pleasing to Mary Bradley to find Miss Chichester there.
+The fact would interfere with if it did not entirely destroy
+the purpose of her errand. But she manifested
+neither surprise nor disappointment. She entered the
+room, not with as much grace, perhaps, but certainly
+with as much ease and composure as though she had all
+her life been accustomed to making her entry into
+drawing-rooms. She was received cordially by Ruth
+who was sincerely glad to see her, and coldly by Miss
+Chichester who would much rather have seen any one
+else in the city. There was some casual conversation,
+in which Miss Chichester only incidentally joined, and
+then, possibly through inadvertence, possibly by design,
+the action of the vestry in demanding the dismissal of
+the rector was referred to.</p>
+
+<p>“I know you don’t agree with me, Ruth,” said Miss
+Chichester, “but, in my opinion, we shall never have
+peace in the parish till that man goes.”</p>
+
+<p>“And in my opinion,” responded Ruth, “we shall
+never have righteousness nor real happiness in the
+parish until the church as a body accepts his views.
+What do you think, Mrs. Bradley?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_207"></a>[207]</span></p>
+
+<p>“I quite agree with you,” replied the widow, quietly.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Chichester would have taken anything from
+Ruth Tracy in the way of verbal opposition, without a
+shadow of resentment; but to be openly antagonized
+by this person who had presumed to force herself
+socially into one of the most exclusive drawing-rooms
+on the hill—she could not listen and hold herself completely
+in abeyance. However, she ignored the widow
+and addressed her forthcoming remark exclusively to
+Ruth.</p>
+
+<p>“I should think, my dear,” she said, “that with the
+sad experience you have recently had, which everybody
+says was a direct result of the trouble Mr. Farrar has
+got the church into, you would hesitate about believing
+that either righteousness or happiness could result from
+his schemes.”</p>
+
+<p>A flush came into Mrs. Bradley’s cheeks, but she held
+her peace. She well knew that Miss Tracy was fully
+capable of fighting her own battles. Ruth showed no
+sign of resentment. Her face had paled slightly, but
+she spoke without feeling or excitement.</p>
+
+<p>“You must remember, Jane,” she said, “that, where
+one person may have suffered because of the upheaval
+in the church, a hundred have found hope and satisfaction
+in the gospel that is being preached to them.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh,” retorted Miss Chichester, “those people that
+come to church nowadays are merely sensation hunters.
+They come, and listen, and smack their lips, and go
+away just as irreligious and atheistic and destructive as
+they were before they came. Those are largely the
+kind of people who are encouraging Mr. Farrar to
+make this fight. Of course, I don’t include you, dear.”</p>
+
+<p>“You include me, perhaps?” Mrs. Bradley smiled
+as she asked the question, and her white teeth shone.</p>
+
+<p>“There’s an old saying,” replied Miss Chichester,
+“to this effect: ‘If the shoe fits, put it on.’”</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Bradley laughed outright; not meanly, but
+merrily.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_208"></a>[208]</span></p>
+
+<p>“I think it fits,” she replied.</p>
+
+<p>“Moreover,” continued Miss Chichester, her temper
+rising with every word, “a scheme like Mr. Farrar’s,
+that encourages people of no standing whatever to attempt
+to break into good society, and to seek companionship
+with our best young men, is a scheme that
+ought to be crushed.”</p>
+
+<p>It was perfectly apparent that after that declaration
+no <i lang="fr">entente cordiale</i> could be either established or maintained
+among the three women present. Ruth looked
+worried, Mrs. Bradley bit her lip and did not answer,
+and Miss Chichester, after a moment of uncertainty,
+rose to go. She turned to Ruth.</p>
+
+<p>“I’m so sorry for you, dear,” she said, “even if it is
+all your own fault. I know how to sympathize with
+you, because my own heart is almost broken.”</p>
+
+<p>She gave her eyes a dab or two with her handkerchief,
+said good-bye to Ruth, ignored Mrs. Bradley,
+and departed.</p>
+
+<p>“I’m extremely sorry,” said the remaining guest,
+when the door had closed behind the first visitor, “to
+have come here and made trouble.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh,” replied Ruth, “I don’t mind Miss Chichester.
+I have always known her. What worries me is that
+you may have taken her too seriously. You don’t
+know, as I do, that her heart is so much better than
+her tongue.”</p>
+
+<p>“I think most people are really better than they
+seem. But Miss Chichester appears to have a deep
+personal grievance against me. I have heard of it before
+this. I don’t fully understand it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Jane thinks you are trenching on her preserves.”</p>
+
+<p>“In the matter of Barry Malleson?”</p>
+
+<p>“I believe so.”</p>
+
+<p>“Is she engaged to be married to him?”</p>
+
+<p>“She says she is not, but she thinks she might be if
+it were not for your alluring influence over him.”</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Bradley laughed a little before she replied.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_209"></a>[209]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Poor Mr. Malleson! To be so beset. But if Miss
+Chichester is not engaged to him I do not see that I
+owe her anything.” She turned suddenly to her hostess.
+“Miss Tracy, would you think it my duty to forbid
+Mr. Malleson to see me?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know why it should be. Do you?”</p>
+
+<p>“No. Only that I’m not in his class, that I have
+nothing against him, that he appears to be an extremely
+well-intentioned young man, and that his
+association with me, slight as it has been, has already
+subjected him to much criticism.”</p>
+
+<p>“Those are not good reasons, Mrs. Bradley. Barry
+cares nothing for criticism. The fact that he is well-intentioned
+prevents any unjust reflections upon you.
+And, so far as I am concerned, I should be delighted to
+see you become intensely and permanently interested
+in each other. As I view the matter, in the light of
+my present beliefs, I think it is just such relationships
+that modern society needs for its regeneration.”</p>
+
+<p>“Thank you! That is practically what Mr. Farrar
+said to me.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did he talk with you about Barry?”</p>
+
+<p>“Incidentally.”</p>
+
+<p>“And he approved of Barry’s interest in you?”</p>
+
+<p>“He appeared to.”</p>
+
+<p>“I hope you will follow his advice, Mrs. Bradley.”</p>
+
+<p>But Mrs. Bradley evidently did not care to continue
+the discussion of this particular subject. At any rate
+she changed the topic of conversation abruptly by
+saying:</p>
+
+<p>“I came to tell you how brave and wise I think you
+are, Miss Tracy.”</p>
+
+<p>Ruth looked up questioningly, and her visitor continued:</p>
+
+<p>“I mean in the matter of breaking your engagement.
+I don’t want to intrude into your personal affairs, but
+I felt that I must tell you how greatly I admire your
+courage.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_210"></a>[210]</span></p>
+
+<p>“You are very kind.”</p>
+
+<p>“So many of us choose the easiest way, the most delightful
+path. It is splendid once in a while to see a
+woman govern her conduct by high principles and a
+stern sense of duty, though it requires great sacrifice.”</p>
+
+<p>“I appreciate what you say, though I am not fully
+deserving of your commendation. I cannot feel that
+the sacrifice was so very great on my part, but I am
+intensely sorry for him. He is so sincere and good.”</p>
+
+<p>“You mean Mr. Westgate?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“I have no sympathy——” she checked herself suddenly
+and then added: “We’ll not talk about it any
+more. I simply felt that if I could say but one word
+that would give you the least bit of courage and hope,
+I wanted to say it.”</p>
+
+<p>“You have cheered and encouraged me.”</p>
+
+<p>“Thank you! Now let’s talk about something else.”</p>
+
+<p>When Mrs. Bradley chose to talk she was an interesting
+and entertaining talker. And she was in a talkative
+mood to-day. The conversation having turned on her
+own vocation, she told about her present work, and
+about the ambitions and ideals of the socialistic group
+with which she was connected. Mentally alert, and
+eager to hear and to read, she had readily imbibed and
+easily assimilated the doctrines of the school of Marx
+and Bebel, and their more vigorous if less illustrious
+followers. These doctrines appealed to her reason and
+to her sense of social justice. She rejoiced in the effort
+to raise the economic level of the working class, and,
+by the same token, to drag down those pompous ones
+who ruled by reason of unjust wealth. She believed
+in the necessity for revolutionizing the social order. It
+was a part of her work to sow the seeds of such a
+revolution, and she explained by what methods that
+work was accomplished. Miss Tracy was not only
+interested in the recital, she was fascinated. The story
+was dramatic and absorbing.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_211"></a>[211]</span></p>
+
+<p>“But,” she said finally, “you must in some way,
+Mrs. Bradley, connect it up with religion, or it will
+come to naught in the end.”</p>
+
+<p>“I am not so sure of that,” was the reply. “I’ve
+been studying on that part of it, and reading what
+little I can find to read, and listening, too, whenever I
+can hear it talked about.”</p>
+
+<p>“I am sure you must get great help from Mr.
+Farrar’s sermons. I’m so glad to see you in church
+every Sunday morning.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes; I come quite regularly. I’m always interested
+in the sermon.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Farrar is very grateful to you for giving him
+such splendid assistance in his fight.”</p>
+
+<p>“I try to help him. I think he’s a very wise and
+good man.”</p>
+
+<p>“He is, indeed. You can rest assured of that.”</p>
+
+<p>“And being so wise and good he deserves to be very
+happy.”</p>
+
+<p>“I think he almost glories in this warfare for righteousness.”</p>
+
+<p>“He should be happy and satisfied in all of his relations
+in order to do his best work.”</p>
+
+<p>“I presume he is thus happy and satisfied.”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know. I’ve been told that his wife is not
+in sympathy with him; that she doesn’t understand
+him and doesn’t appreciate him. If that is so it’s a
+pitiful situation.”</p>
+
+<p>“If it is so, it is certainly unfortunate, but I do not
+quite credit that story.”</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Bradley went on as though she had not heard.</p>
+
+<p>“A man such as he is ought to have a wife of the
+same mind with him. She ought to be one with him
+in everything. She ought to give herself up completely
+to him and to his work. And she would have
+a rich reward, because I believe such a man as he is
+could love intensely.”</p>
+
+<p>She had been looking away into some glowing<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_212"></a>[212]</span>
+distance as she spoke, but now she turned her eyes full
+upon her hostess.</p>
+
+<p>“I have known of marriages like that,” she said,
+“and they have been perfect; perfect, such as your
+marriage to Mr. Westgate never could have been; such
+as your marriage, some day, to some other man must
+be, for you deserve it, and you must have it. A woman
+who loses an experience like that loses the better part
+of her life.”</p>
+
+<p>She spoke with such intense earnestness that her
+listener was startled, and hardly knew how to reply.
+There was a moment’s pause and then Ruth said, feeling
+even while she said it that she was saying the
+wrong thing:</p>
+
+<p>“I suppose your own experience as a wife leads you
+to say that, Mrs. Bradley.”</p>
+
+<p>“My own experience? Oh, no! My own marriage
+was a very commonplace affair. People who are as
+poor as we were, always hard at work, straining to
+make both ends meet, have little time for love-making.
+Besides, my husband was not a man for any woman to
+idolize.”</p>
+
+<p>If Ruth was surprised at this frank avowal, she succeeded
+in concealing her surprise. It occurred to her
+that possibly the woman was primitive, and that her
+finer sensibilities had not yet been fully developed.
+But that she was genuine and well-intentioned there
+could be no doubt.</p>
+
+<p>“That was unfortunate,” replied Ruth. “Every
+marriage should have for its basis mutual and whole-souled
+affection.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. That is true. I neither received it, nor had
+it. And I feel, somehow—it was my fault of course, for
+I didn’t have to marry him—but I feel somehow as if I’d
+been robbed of that to which every woman is entitled.”</p>
+
+<p>It was a delicate subject, and Ruth hardly knew how
+to handle it. But a thought came into her mind and
+she gave expression to it.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_213"></a>[213]</span></p>
+
+<p>“It’s not too late yet for you to have that experience,
+Mrs. Bradley. I am sure your heart can still be profoundly
+stirred by some great love.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I know that, Miss Tracy. I know that. But
+to love without being loved in return—that’s torture;
+it’s not happiness.”</p>
+
+<p>“And why shouldn’t you be loved in return?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know. Oh, I don’t know. Do you think,
+do you imagine, by the wildest stretch of hope and
+fancy do you conceive it to be possible that my love
+should be returned?”</p>
+
+<p>She had risen to her feet. Her voice was tremulous
+with excitement. Her eyes had in them that appealing
+look that had pierced to the depth of Barry Malleson’s
+heart. But she did not wait for Miss Tracy to answer
+her. She turned abruptly toward the door.</p>
+
+<p>“I must go now,” she said. “It’s already dusk.
+And it’s a long way home.”</p>
+
+<p>When she reached the hall she faced about. There
+was something she still wanted to say.</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t take it to heart, Miss Tracy. Your own
+broken romance, I mean. He was never the man for
+you. You have ideals. He has none. There are a
+thousand women with whom he will be just as well
+satisfied as he would have been with you. But for you
+there is but one man in all the world. And when he
+comes to you you will know him, and you will love
+him, and you will be supremely, oh, supremely happy.
+For there’s nothing so beautiful, so wonderful, so
+heavenly in a woman’s life as this love for the one man,
+if only he loves her.”</p>
+
+<p>That it came from her heart as well as from her lips,
+this message of hope and comfort, there could be no
+shadow of doubt. Her eyes were full of it, her countenance
+was aglow with it. But what lay back of it in
+her own life’s experience that should give it such
+eloquent and passionate voice?</p>
+
+<p>Before Ruth could recover sufficiently from her surprise<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_214"></a>[214]</span>
+to reply intelligently the woman had said good-bye
+and was gone. She hurried down the pavement
+in the December dusk, looking neither to the right nor
+left. The night was cold, the air was frosty, the stars
+were beginning to show in the clear sky. At the corner
+of Grove Street and Fountain Lane Stephen Lamar
+met her. He came upon her suddenly and she was
+startled.</p>
+
+<p>“You shouldn’t have frightened me so,” she said.</p>
+
+<p>“I was waiting for you,” he replied. “I knew you
+were in the Tracy house.”</p>
+
+<p>“How did you know it?”</p>
+
+<p>“A socialist friend of mine saw you go in and told
+me.”</p>
+
+<p>“And what business was it of your socialist friend
+where I went?”</p>
+
+<p>“To speak frankly, Mary, they don’t like your consorting
+so freely with people of that class: this Tracy
+girl, and the fighting parson, and half-baked young
+Malleson and others of that ilk.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ve told you before, Steve, that when your crowd
+wants my job they can have it. I’ll get out any day.
+But—I shall choose my own friends.”</p>
+
+<p>“They don’t want you to throw up your job. In
+fact you’re indispensable. But it’s because you are so
+important that your association with these people is
+injurious to the cause.”</p>
+
+<p>She half stopped and faced him.</p>
+
+<p>“Steve,” she said, “why did you come up here to
+meet me?”</p>
+
+<p>It was such an abrupt breaking off of the former
+topic of conversation that Lamar replied awkwardly:</p>
+
+<p>“Why, I—I wanted to tell you this.”</p>
+
+<p>“What else did you want to tell me?”</p>
+
+<p>“I wanted to tell you that I heard to-day that you
+are likely to marry young Malleson. He’s been asked
+if there’s an engagement, and he doesn’t deny it. The
+thing has got on my nerves. I felt that I couldn’t<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_215"></a>[215]</span>
+sleep without getting an assurance from you that
+there’s nothing in it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Let me see. I told you once that if you would do
+something for me you should have your reward.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“And you haven’t done it.”</p>
+
+<p>“The job is under way. You can’t do a thing of
+that kind in a day. The agreement with the men expired
+less than a week ago.”</p>
+
+<p>“You think you will bring what I wish to pass?”</p>
+
+<p>“I surely do.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then you needn’t be afraid of Barry Malleson. A
+thousand of his kind will not keep your reward from
+you.”</p>
+
+<p>“Thank you, Mary. I knew all along that you
+were only pulling the wool over his eyes, but this infernal
+story to-day got me going.”</p>
+
+<p>“Dismiss it from your mind. How far are you
+going to walk with me?”</p>
+
+<p>“To Main Street. I promised to meet Bricky
+Hoover at the Silver Star at half-past five.”</p>
+
+<p>“Good! I shall take a car from there to the foot of
+Factory Hill.”</p>
+
+<p>An automobile turned the corner slowly within three
+feet of them as they walked. A woman, sitting alone
+in the tonneau, looked out at them sharply, and turned
+her head to watch them as she went by. It was Miss
+Chichester. They both recognized her.</p>
+
+<p>“A friend of yours,” said Lamar.</p>
+
+<p>“A friend of a friend of mine,” was the reply. “She
+has found a new reason for poisoning his mind concerning
+me.”</p>
+
+<p>“What is that?”</p>
+
+<p>“I have been seen walking with Steve Lamar on a
+secluded street after nightfall.”</p>
+
+<p>He laughed. “That is indeed an offense,” he said.
+“Let us do something that will enlarge it into a
+scandal.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_216"></a>[216]</span></p>
+
+<p>“For instance?”</p>
+
+<p>“I might kiss you when I leave you at the corner.”</p>
+
+<p>She turned toward him as she walked.</p>
+
+<p>“Do you remember,” she asked him, “that story of
+Judas who betrayed his Master with a kiss?”</p>
+
+<p>“From the Christian fable? Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, the man whom I kiss is marked for swift
+destruction.”</p>
+
+<p>“I would suffer the penalty and rejoice in it.”</p>
+
+<p>“You are not the man.”</p>
+
+<p>She stopped abruptly at the crossing, said good-night
+to him, and turned away before he could recover
+from the shock of his surprise. It was not the first
+time she had closed a conversation with him suddenly
+and left him mystified, and wondering at the meaning
+of her words. He stood on the corner and watched
+her out of sight, and then, with mind ill at ease, he
+turned in at the Silver Star.</p>
+
+<p>Mary Bradley hurried on down Main Street, but she
+did not take a car. She was in a mood for walking,
+cold as the night was. At the first corner she turned,
+went a block to the west, and thence followed a residence
+street running parallel with Main. It was not
+yet six o’clock but the street was practically deserted.
+It was a good neighborhood, however, and she was not
+timid. Both Hazzard and Emberly, vestrymen of Christ
+Church, lived on this street. She knew the Emberly
+house in the next block. As she approached it a man
+descended the steps of it and started away in the direction
+in which she was going. She thought, as she saw
+him in the shadow, that it was Lamar. He was of
+nearly the same height, build and carriage, and it was
+easy for her to be mistaken. But when, instinctively,
+he turned his face back toward her, feeling that some
+one was following him whom he knew, she saw at once
+that it was the rector of Christ Church. He waited
+until she reached him, and they walked on together.
+He too was going in the direction of Factory Hill. A<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_217"></a>[217]</span>
+sick call which he had been prevented all the afternoon
+from reaching, must be made before dinner time. He
+was in a cheerful mood. Emberly had given him encouraging
+news. He told it to Mrs. Bradley as they
+went along. But, for some reason which he could not
+understand, she was more than usually reticent, and
+when she spoke it was in monosyllables. It was not
+a sullen reticence, but rather a physical inability, as
+though she were laboring for breath. Five blocks
+farther down she said:</p>
+
+<p>“I turn here and cross the foot-bridge. It’s much
+nearer for me.”</p>
+
+<p>“I will go with you,” he replied.</p>
+
+<p>“But it will take you out of your way.”</p>
+
+<p>“It doesn’t matter. Besides, it’s an unfrequented
+route, and you shouldn’t go alone at this hour.”</p>
+
+<p>She made no further objection, and he turned with
+her, and they came presently to the end of the foot-bridge.
+It was a suspension bridge, narrow and unstable,
+swung across the gorge above the Malleson mills
+to accommodate employees of that concern. The wire
+cables that supported it hung so low that at the center
+they were scarcely knee-high above the floor, and that
+was covered with ice. It rocked and swayed with
+them as they walked upon it. Before they were half-way
+across Mary Bradley’s foot slipped. She sank to
+her knee and would have fallen over the side of the
+bridge had not the minister caught her, flung his arm
+around her waist and helped her to her feet.</p>
+
+<p>“You’re not hurt?” he asked.</p>
+
+<p>“No—except—my ankle.”</p>
+
+<p>She was trembling with fright, and, when she tried
+to move on, the weakness of her injured foot made the
+attempt too hazardous and she hesitated. Two-thirds
+of the icy bridge had yet to be crossed.</p>
+
+<p>“Shall we go back?” he asked.</p>
+
+<p>“No,” she replied, “we will go on.”</p>
+
+<p>The minister’s arm was still about her waist. It was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_218"></a>[218]</span>
+a wise precaution. If it had not been there she would
+surely have plunged to the bottom of the gorge before
+the remainder of the crossing could have been accomplished.
+She wondered afterward why, with that
+first taste of an earthly heaven sweet upon her soul’s
+lips, she had not, herself, sought life’s end. At the
+farther end of the bridge he released her, and they
+turned and looked back over the perilous way they had
+come. Across the stream, in a circle of light thrown
+into the street by a swinging arc lamp, stood an automobile.
+A woman, sitting alone in the tonneau, swathed
+in furs, was looking over at them. They had not heard
+the car, they had not until that moment seen it, it was
+too far away now for its occupant to be identified. But
+Mary Bradley knew, nevertheless, who had seen them.</p>
+
+<p>“It was a dangerous crossing,” said the rector as
+they turned up the hill, and the car across the gorge
+moved on.</p>
+
+<p>“It was a rapturous crossing,” said Mary Bradley in
+her heart as, clinging to her companion’s arm, she
+limped weakly toward her home. But, if she had been
+reticent before the accident, she was silent now. The
+power of speech seemed almost to have left her. The
+minister respected her mood and did not question her.
+Doubtless pain or weariness or embarrassment had its
+effect upon her, and he did not choose to be intrusive.
+He left her at her door, and heard the querulous voice
+of the old woman of the house in impatient questioning
+as he turned away.</p>
+
+<p>Mary Bradley gave brief greeting to her mother as
+she entered, but she went hurriedly and sat by the
+window in the darkened living-room. She watched
+the stalwart figure of the rector of Christ Church
+until it was lost in the shadows of the dimly-lighted
+street. She pressed her face against the pane and
+peered into the darkness after the last vestige of an
+outline or a motion had been swallowed up.</p>
+
+<p>Her mother called to her from the kitchen.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_219"></a>[219]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Ain’t you comin’ to your supper, Mary?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, mother.”</p>
+
+<p>But she did not come. She still sat with her face
+against the window, staring into the night.</p>
+
+<p>Again the old woman called to her, impatiently.</p>
+
+<p>“Why don’t you come? Your supper’s gittin’ cold.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m coming, mother.”</p>
+
+<p>Still she did not come.</p>
+
+<p>What was it in the darkness, in the sweet twilight
+beyond the darkness, in the red glory of some forbidden
+morning, that drew and held her eyes of clay?</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_220"></a>[220]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII<br>
+<small>A CASE OF MISTAKEN IDENTITY</small></h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>On the morning following Mrs. Bradley’s visit to
+Ruth Tracy there was unusual activity at the Chichester
+home. It was confined wholly to Miss Chichester.
+She was in a high state of excitement and
+anticipation. She ordered her car early from the garage
+and started down-town. She stopped at a large
+department store and called up Barry Malleson’s office
+by telephone. But Barry was not yet down. She
+wandered aimlessly about the store for fifteen minutes,
+and then tried again to speak to Barry. Still he had
+not reached the mills. Then she reëntered her car and
+was taken to a big office building a few blocks away.
+She left the elevator at the sixth floor and entered the
+anteroom of the law-offices of Tracy, Black and Westgate.
+Mr. Westgate was in, but he was busy. Would
+she wait, or would she see Mr. Tracy who was just at
+present disengaged? She did not care to see Mr.
+Tracy; her errand was particularly with Mr. Westgate,
+and she would wait. She decided to try again to
+reach Barry. This time she was successful. The office
+telephone girl announced that he was there. So Miss
+Chichester sat at a table with a desk ’phone in her
+hands and entered into conversation with Barry.</p>
+
+<p>“I am here,” she said, “at Phil’s office, and I want
+you to come up here. It’s very important.”</p>
+
+<p>It was apparent that Barry both demurred and failed
+to understand, for Miss Chichester added after a moment:</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_221"></a>[221]</span></p>
+
+<p>“At Phil Westgate’s office. You must come up,
+Barry. It won’t take ten minutes, and I’m sure you
+can spare me that much time. Besides, it’s a matter
+of very serious importance to you. Please come right
+away.”</p>
+
+<p>Evidently Barry yielded, for she said, after a brief
+interval of silence:</p>
+
+<p>“Thank you so much! I’ll wait right here.”</p>
+
+<p>She hung up the receiver, and went and sat on the
+window ledge and looked down into the street. She
+saw Barry as he turned the corner and crossed over
+toward the office building. When he entered the
+room a moment later she drew him mysteriously to a
+bench in a corner.</p>
+
+<p>“No,” she said, in reply to Barry’s question, “I
+can’t tell you what it is; not until we see Phil. I
+know you’ll be surprised, and maybe you’ll be shocked,
+and I want you to have the benefit of Phil’s judgment
+on it at once.”</p>
+
+<p>But Phil was still engaged. Other clients had come,
+in the meantime, to see him, and were sitting about the
+anteroom waiting. Barry tapped the floor with the
+toe of his shoe impatiently.</p>
+
+<p>“I can’t sit around here all the morning,” he said.
+“I’ve got work to do down at the office; important
+work. You must realize, Jane, that I’m vice-president
+of the company and that all matters of magnitude pass
+through my hands.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m sure it can’t be much longer, Barry. Those
+people have been in there now, to my certain knowledge,
+at least half an hour.”</p>
+
+<p>But he was still ill at ease, and finally he went over
+to the telephone girl, and asked her to call in to Westgate
+that Mr. Barry Malleson and Miss Chichester
+were waiting to see him, and that Mr. Malleson was in
+great haste. Word came back immediately that Westgate
+would see them in a moment. And it was really
+less than five minutes when his door opened and Judge<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_222"></a>[222]</span>
+Bosworth came out followed by Colonel Boston, Mr.
+Hughes, Mr. Cochrane and Mr. Rapalje.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Chichester’s curiosity was so greatly aroused as
+to the meaning of this meeting of vestrymen that she
+came near losing sight, for the moment, of the purpose
+of her own errand. But when she was once in Westgate’s
+room with Barry, there was no delay in making
+the object of her visit known.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ve brought Barry with me,” she said, “because I
+want him to hear the disclosures I am about to make—they
+so deeply concern him—and because he will need
+good, sound advice the moment he hears them.”</p>
+
+<p>For the first time Barry looked worried.</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know what she’s got up her sleeve, Phil;
+honest I don’t. I haven’t said a word to her that she
+could construe as a promise of any kind.”</p>
+
+<p>There was a twinkle in Westgate’s eye.</p>
+
+<p>“I’m afraid you’re in bad, Barry,” he said. “Jane
+has a mighty determined look on her face this morning.”</p>
+
+<p>“But, Phil, old man, you know very well that I
+wouldn’t for the world deceive any woman; and what’s
+more Jane has never——”</p>
+
+<p>But at that point Jane herself interrupted him.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, Barry, you silly fellow! It’s a warning I want
+to give you, not an ultimatum. And Phil’s a lawyer
+and he can tell you what to do. I always knew it, but
+I had no proof. Now I have the evidence. I saw it
+with my own eyes.”</p>
+
+<p>“Saw what?” asked Westgate.</p>
+
+<p>“Saw him hug and kiss her.”</p>
+
+<p>Barry started from his chair.</p>
+
+<p>“I never did!” he exclaimed. “I never even tried
+to. Jane, you’ve made a terrible mistake!”</p>
+
+<p>“Now, Barry,” said Westgate, “just restrain yourself
+for a few minutes and we’ll ask Miss Chichester to
+explain. Jane, will you please begin at the beginning
+and tell us the entire story?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_223"></a>[223]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Certainly! You know I went yesterday afternoon
+to call on Ruth Tracy, and while I was there this person
+came in.”</p>
+
+<p>“What person? Who?” asked Westgate.</p>
+
+<p>“Why, that socialist widow.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mrs. Bradley?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes; and she said some impertinent things and I
+got up and left.”</p>
+
+<p>“And what happened then?” asked Westgate, tipping
+back in his office chair, putting his thumbs into
+the armholes of his vest, and trying hard to look
+serious.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, it wasn’t twenty minutes later that I was
+going up-town, and just as my car turned into Grove
+Street I saw this person, not three feet away from me,
+walking in a most clinging and confidential way with
+Stephen Lamar, the socialist and anarchist and atheist.”</p>
+
+<p>“But,” inquired Westgate, “where does Barry get
+into the plot?”</p>
+
+<p>“He doesn’t get into it directly,” replied Miss Chichester;
+“but it concerns him seriously. I want him
+to know what kind of a person this is he’s been running
+after.”</p>
+
+<p>Then Barry spoke up.</p>
+
+<p>“Mrs. Bradley isn’t engaged to marry me,” he said.
+“I don’t know why she hasn’t got a right to walk on
+the street with Stephen Lamar or any one else if she
+wants to.”</p>
+
+<p>“That isn’t the point, Barry,” protested Miss Chichester.
+“The point is that you haven’t got a right
+to walk on the street with her, or haunt her office, or
+commend her beauty, after you know what she’s done.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why,” said Barry, “I don’t think it’s so very bad
+for her to be seen on the street with this man. Maybe
+it wasn’t her fault that he was with her. I don’t think
+I would deprive her of my friendship on that account,
+Jane.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, but wait! You haven’t heard it all yet,” exclaimed<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_224"></a>[224]</span>
+Miss Chichester. “Wait till I tell you the
+rest, and then let me hear you dare to defend her, Barry
+Malleson.”</p>
+
+<p>“Proceed,” said Westgate soberly.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I made up my mind that things weren’t right,
+and that I’d see it out. So I had Albert drive down-town
+again. I knew that those Factory Hill people
+usually cross the foot-bridge instead of going around,
+so I gave them time to get there, and then we drove
+up Brook Street, past the entrance to the foot-bridge.
+Sure enough they were just going across. I had Albert
+stop the car so I could get a good square look at
+them. They were so interested in each other that
+they didn’t see or hear us. And now what do you
+think?”</p>
+
+<p>She turned first to Westgate and then to Barry to
+prepare them for the awful disclosure she was about
+to make. Her question was in the nature of a shock-absorber.</p>
+
+<p>“This is getting serious,” said Westgate, straightening
+up. “Are you sure it was Mrs. Bradley?”</p>
+
+<p>“Positively certain!”</p>
+
+<p>“And Stephen Lamar?”</p>
+
+<p>“I couldn’t be mistaken.”</p>
+
+<p>“Barry, have you any questions you desire to ask in
+order to test the witness’s knowledge before she makes
+the final disclosure?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t see that what she’s saying concerns me particularly,”
+replied Barry. “I don’t object to Mrs.
+Bradley having company home. It’s rather a lonesome
+route across the bridge and up the hill. She ought to
+have somebody with her, going that way after dark.”</p>
+
+<p>“But,” protested Jane, “think whom she chose to go
+with her. A man who isn’t a fit companion for men,
+let alone for women.”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t think much of his theories,” replied Barry,
+“but I never heard that he was positively bad.”</p>
+
+<p>“Barry Malleson! What do you call a bad man,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_225"></a>[225]</span>
+I’d like to know? Why, this man flouts religion, and
+denounces the Church, and preys on society, and——”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, Jane,” interrupted Westgate, “suppose we
+put all that aside for the moment, and you go on and
+tell us what you saw at the bridge.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. Well, I saw them start across the bridge
+together, and before they got half-way over they
+stopped and—really, this isn’t very nice to tell.”</p>
+
+<p>“Probably not,” said Westgate, “but we can’t tell
+whether or not it was very nice to do until we hear
+what it was they did.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, if you force me to tell it, why, I saw him put
+his arm around her waist, and pull her close up to him
+and—and kiss her.”</p>
+
+<p>“You astonish me!” exclaimed Westgate. “This
+thing was done in the early evening, under the glare
+of the electric lamp, in full view of any person who
+might be passing?”</p>
+
+<p>“Exactly! It was scandalous, Phil. And they
+weren’t satisfied with doing it once; they repeated
+it, and then she actually walked the rest of the way
+across the bridge with his arm around her waist.
+Barry Malleson, what do you think of that?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know,” replied Barry, uncertainly, “that it
+has anything to do with me.”</p>
+
+<p>It was apparent, nevertheless, that the news had impressed
+him profoundly. And to that extent at least
+Miss Chichester had made her point.</p>
+
+<p>“But you do know,” she persisted, “that a woman
+who conducts herself so scandalously is not a proper
+person for you to associate with. Phil will tell you so,
+won’t you, Phil? He’ll tell you that it’s dangerous.
+That you’re likely to get caught in the trap of an adventuress.”</p>
+
+<p>Westgate turned soberly to Barry.</p>
+
+<p>“If what Jane tells us is true,” he said, “and I have
+no particular reason to doubt her word, you’ve been
+skating on very thin ice, young man, very thin ice.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_226"></a>[226]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Thank you, Phil!” exclaimed Miss Chichester.
+“But you must do more than warn him; you must stop
+him. You’re a lawyer. You can get out an injunction,
+or a writ of habeas corpus or something, and compel
+her to keep away from him.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why,” responded Westgate, “I think it’s a question
+of his keeping away from her. And Barry’s own
+good sense, and sober judgment, and quick wit, will
+control him to that extent at least. Won’t it, Barry?”</p>
+
+<p>But Barry was still reluctant to renounce the charming
+widow offhand at the behest of her rival, or at the
+suggestion of the gentleman learned in the law.</p>
+
+<p>“I won’t jump before I’m ready,” replied Barry.
+“I’ll find out more about this thing first. I’ll ask Mrs.
+Bradley about it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Barry! Can’t you believe what I tell you? When
+I saw it with my own eyes?”</p>
+
+<p>Miss Chichester was growing more appealingly impatient.
+But Barry still shook his head incredulously.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll believe it when she tells me it’s so,” he replied.
+“You might have been deceived in some way. And
+maybe if it is so it wasn’t her fault. I’ll ask her.”</p>
+
+<p>Then Westgate again intervened.</p>
+
+<p>“If you take my advice,” he said, “you’ll do nothing
+of the kind. If she can’t make up a plausible excuse,
+she’s not the woman I take her to be. Now, my
+suggestion would be—— Have you told anybody else
+about this, Jane?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not a soul,” replied Miss Chichester, promptly.</p>
+
+<p>“Then don’t. Don’t say a word. Keep the whole
+thing under cover. Don’t either of you mention it to
+any one, least of all to Mrs. Bradley. I’ll put a detective
+on the case. If we find out that Lamar is actually
+making love to the widow, with her permission, we’ll
+put the facts before Barry in such a convincing way
+that he’ll have to accept them, and wind up his romance.”</p>
+
+<p>Westgate brought his fist down on the table with<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_227"></a>[227]</span>
+such positive and conclusive effect that there appeared
+to be no more to say; and his callers, feeling that the
+interview was at an end, rose to their feet.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll take your advice,” said Miss Chichester, “but
+I’m sure you’ll find out that I was right.”</p>
+
+<p>Barry did not dissent from Westgate’s plan. His
+mind was, by this time, in such a whirl that he had not
+the ability to dissent from anything. He went out into
+the street, and started back toward the mill. Miss
+Chichester offered to take him in her car. She pleaded
+with him to go with her. But for once he was resolute.
+He would walk. When he reached the narrow
+street that led to the mill, he did not turn in there.
+He kept on down Main Street till he reached the Potter
+Building. Again he ignored the elevator and
+mounted the stairs. He had not promised to take
+Westgate’s advice, and refrain from interviewing Mrs.
+Bradley. Every succeeding step that he had taken in
+his journey from the lawyer’s office had but added to
+his determination to find out for himself, from original
+sources, how much if any of Jane Chichester’s remarkable
+story was true.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Bradley was in, and she was alone. Her greeting
+was more cordial, her smile more alluring, her eyes
+more fascinating as she turned them on her visitor,
+than they had ever been before. Barry did not beat
+about the bush. It was not his way. He went
+straight to the heart of his errand.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ve heard something this morning,” he said, “and
+I want to know if it’s a fact.”</p>
+
+<p>“Am I in a position,” she inquired, “to tell you
+whether or not it is a fact?”</p>
+
+<p>“If you’re not,” he replied, “I don’t know who is.”</p>
+
+<p>She smiled again, showing her perfect teeth.</p>
+
+<p>“Very well,” she said. “Go on. If it’s not one of
+the secrets of the League, I may be able to tell you.”</p>
+
+<p>“It has nothing to do with the League, Mrs. Bradley.
+It concerns you personally—and me.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_228"></a>[228]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Has some one been forecasting your deplorable future?”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s exactly it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, what did you hear? Let’s know the worst.”</p>
+
+<p>“I heard that last night, on the Malleson foot-bridge,
+you permitted Stephen Lamar to walk across the bridge
+with his arm around your waist, and to kiss you twice.
+Is that so?”</p>
+
+<p>She did not answer him. Her face grew scarlet, and
+then pale. Her effort to breathe was as labored as it
+had been on the bridge the night before. But her eyes
+looked him through and through. He weakened and
+winced and cowered under them. He began to frame
+apologies.</p>
+
+<p>“I guess, maybe,” he stammered, “that I had no
+right to—to ask——”</p>
+
+<p>“You had a perfect right,” she interrupted him.
+“You have made love to me honorably. If another
+man makes love to me with my permission, you have a
+right to know it.”</p>
+
+<p>Barry began to breathe more freely.</p>
+
+<p>“I—I thought you’d look at it that way,” he said.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, that’s the right way. Now let us see. You’ve
+been told that I crossed the foot-bridge last evening
+with Stephen Lamar, and that he had his arm around
+me, and kissed me?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, that’s the story; but I didn’t——”</p>
+
+<p>“Never mind that; let me tell you. Stephen Lamar
+did not cross the foot-bridge with me last evening. He
+has never crossed the foot-bridge with me. He did not
+have his arm around my waist. He has never had his
+arm around my waist. He did not kiss me. He has
+never kissed me. Is that sufficient?”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s more than sufficient,” replied Barry, his face
+aglow with satisfaction. “I knew it was a mistake.
+I’ll tell——”</p>
+
+<p>“No!” The word came from her lips with sharp
+vehemence. “You’ll tell nobody, on pain of forfeiting<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_229"></a>[229]</span>
+my friendship. Let them think it. Let them
+say it.”</p>
+
+<p>“But,” protested Barry, weakly, “it ought to be
+denied.”</p>
+
+<p>“What does it matter?” she replied. “You know
+it’s a lie, because I’ve told you so. What difference
+does it make who else believes it or disbelieves it?
+I’m beholden to no one for my character or conduct.
+You must not deny the story. I beg you not to deny
+the story.”</p>
+
+<p>She reached her hand across the table and laid it
+caressingly on his. She turned her luminous eyes on
+him, eloquent with voiceless pleading. What could he
+do but promise to keep silent? By the same token he
+would as readily have promised her to wear a wooden
+gag in his mouth all the days of his life. There were
+few things which in that moment he would not have
+promised her at her request. He went out from her
+presence, as he had gone out on the occasion of his last
+preceding visit at her office, treading on air. In the
+distance, as he walked up the street, he caught a
+glimpse of Miss Chichester speeding onward in her car.
+He lifted the tips of his gloved fingers to his lips, and
+blew a kiss in her direction.</p>
+
+<p>“What’s the meaning of this unusual gallantry?”
+asked an acquaintance who was passing.</p>
+
+<p>“It means,” replied Barry, “that it’s better to kiss
+some women at a distance of two blocks than at a distance
+of two inches.”</p>
+
+<p>But another man who saw Barry’s salute said to
+himself: “Malleson’s fool is going daft for sure.”</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_230"></a>[230]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV<br>
+<small>THE BISHOP’S DILEMMA</small></h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>On the third Sunday in December the Right Reverend
+the Bishop of the diocese made his annual visitation
+to the parish of Christ Church.</p>
+
+<p>The rector had a large class to present to him for
+confirmation. Not unusually large, perhaps, but the
+numbers were sufficient to indicate that there was no
+material falling off in the personal accessions to the
+church. It was noted, however, that among the candidates
+there were few people of the wealthy class.
+Most of those received into membership came from the
+families of wage-workers. Nor were the accessions
+from this class as large as the rector had hoped and expected
+they would be. The great majority of those
+who came to hear him preach, who sympathized with
+him, who even fought for him, remained, nevertheless,
+outside the organized body of the church. People
+whose lives are given over to manual labor, especially
+in the cities, are characteristically cautious. Through
+centuries of exploitation, of deception, of promises unfulfilled,
+they have learned to be on their guard. They
+are not quick to attach themselves to any body, religious
+or secular, to which they are to assume new
+and undefined obligations. Nevertheless, the bishop
+had no fault to find with the class presented to him for
+confirmation, nor with the congregations that greeted
+him.</p>
+
+<p>In his honor, and as significant of their attitude
+toward the church as distinguished from their attitude<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_231"></a>[231]</span>
+toward the rector, those who had, during the last few
+months, deserted their pews, were out in full force.
+Their attendance, coupled with the attendance of a
+throng of people of the humbler class, taxed the church
+edifice to its capacity. Many were obliged to stand
+throughout the service and did so willingly. No reference
+was made by the bishop in his sermon, or from
+the chancel, to the troubles in the parish. It seemed
+to him that it would be the part of wisdom on his part,
+so far as his public utterances were concerned, to ignore
+them at this time. He was a guest of Mrs. Tracy.
+Ever since his elevation to the bishopric she had entertained
+him at her house on the occasions of his annual
+visitations to the parish. The bishop felt quite at
+home in the Tracy family. He was especially fond of
+Ruth. He had confirmed her. He had seen her grow
+into helpful and religious young womanhood. She was
+the fairest flower in his whole diocese. Nor was Mr.
+Tracy left entirely out of account. He was not a
+churchman, that is true, and his name was rarely
+mentioned in matters connected with the episcopal
+visitation. But he liked the bishop, and the bishop
+liked him, and they had many an enjoyable visit with
+each other before the library fire of an evening, after
+the other members of the family had retired for the
+night. The bishop was fond of a good cigar, and Mr.
+Tracy provided him with the choicest brands. Moreover
+the bishop was getting up in years; his duties
+were onerous and his work was wearing, and his physician
+had advised him, on occasion, to take something
+before retiring that would induce sound and restful
+sleep. Mr. Tracy knew exactly what would best answer
+that purpose, and he provided it. It was small
+wonder, therefore, that the Tracy house came to be
+regarded as a kind of episcopal residence during the
+period of the annual visitation.</p>
+
+<p>It was here that the bishop invited the vestry to
+meet with him on the Monday evening following confirmation,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_232"></a>[232]</span>
+for the purpose of discussing specifically the
+charges against the rector, and generally the unhappy
+situation in the parish. It must not be supposed that
+he had failed to inform himself, privately, before coming
+to the city, of the exact nature of the trouble. It
+would have been unwise not to have done so. Nor was
+he likely to remain in ignorance concerning the opinions
+of certain parishioners now that he was here. A succession
+of callers, mostly of the wealthier class, who
+had had the privilege of a personal acquaintance with
+him, occupied his attention during the greater part
+of the day. In the early afternoon Barry Malleson
+came to see the bishop. He felt that his voice might
+be potent in obtaining episcopal favor for the rector
+toward whom his loyalty had increased day by day.
+He was ushered into the reception room and told that
+the bishop, who was engaged with a caller in the
+library, would see him in a few minutes. While he
+was waiting, who should come in but Jane Chichester.
+She was rejoiced to find Barry there. It was an opportunity
+that she had been seeking, and that he had
+been avoiding, for a full week.</p>
+
+<p>“I’m so glad you’re here,” she said. “I’ve been
+wanting awfully to see you, and it’s been ten whole
+days since I’ve had the remotest glimpse of you.
+Where in the world have you been?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why,” replied Barry, “we’ve been pretty busy
+down at the mill lately.”</p>
+
+<p>“But I’ve called you up a dozen times and they always
+tell me you’re out.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s the fault of Miss Bolckom, the telephone
+girl. I must speak to her about it.”</p>
+
+<p>If the truth must be told, Barry had spoken to her
+about it, suggesting mildly that if any one whose voice
+resembled that of Miss Chichester should call him up,
+and he should unfortunately happen to be out, why,
+she needn’t go to the trouble or having him paged.
+Miss Bolckom, being an ordinarily clever girl, had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_233"></a>[233]</span>
+understood perfectly. Hence Barry’s unaccountable
+absences.</p>
+
+<p>But Miss Chichester had him now alone and at her
+mercy.</p>
+
+<p>“What I wanted to see you about,” she explained,
+“is that I’ve come to the conclusion that Phil Westgate
+is just making game of both of us. I’ve called him up
+every day and he says his detectives haven’t discovered
+the first thing.”</p>
+
+<p>“Give ’em time,” suggested Barry. “You know
+Rome wasn’t built in a day.”</p>
+
+<p>“They’ve had plenty of time. He just doesn’t want
+them to discover anything. I’m not going to wait
+another day. If he doesn’t find something to-morrow
+to confirm what I saw, I’m going to make my story
+public. I’m going to spread it from one end of the
+town to the other. I’m going to show that woman up
+for what she is, and if Ruth Tracy and Mr. Farrar want
+to patronize her after that, they’ll do it at their peril.
+Of course you won’t have anything more to do with
+her, will you, Barry?”</p>
+
+<p>Barry opened his eyes wide and was silent. Then a
+happy thought came to him, and he said:</p>
+
+<p>“If any woman lets Steve Lamar hug and kiss her,
+she mustn’t expect to associate with me.”</p>
+
+<p>“Of course not; nor with any one else who has any
+self-respect or any regard for public opinion. But to-morrow’s
+the last day I’m going to keep my mouth
+shut, and Phil can like it or not as he chooses. I never
+did think he was as much of a lawyer as some people
+claim he is, anyway.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why,” replied Barry, “the only thing I’ve got
+against Phil is that he’s leading this fight on the
+rector. Otherwise he’s a very decent fellow, with fair,
+average ability.”</p>
+
+<p>“Are you here to see the bishop, Barry?”</p>
+
+<p>“I thought I’d drop in and have a chat with him.
+The bishop and I are old friends.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_234"></a>[234]</span></p>
+
+<p>“I came to see him, too. I always come to see him
+when he’s here on his visitation. I think he’s such a
+dear man.”</p>
+
+<p>“He’s a very agreeable fellow.”</p>
+
+<p>“If one were going to get married wouldn’t it be
+too sweet for anything to have the bishop marry
+you?”</p>
+
+<p>“It wouldn’t be a bad idea, that’s so.”</p>
+
+<p>“And he’s getting along in years, and his health
+is not very good, and I did hear some talk about
+his resigning. Wouldn’t it be too bad if he should
+leave the episcopate before one is ready to get
+married?”</p>
+
+<p>Barry began to have an uncomfortable feeling. He
+didn’t know just why. It was not the first time that
+Miss Chichester had discussed the subject of matrimony
+with him, and his equanimity had never before
+been ruffled by it, but now he saw a cloud on the
+horizon.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, well,” he said, “there’ll be other bishops.”</p>
+
+<p>“But this one is so adorable,” persisted Miss Chichester.
+“And what with all the trouble in the parish
+and everything, he may never come here again. Barry,
+when that person comes out, whoever it is, we’ll go in
+and see the bishop together, won’t we?”</p>
+
+<p>Barry took a firmer grasp on his hat and cane, and
+glanced anxiously toward the hall door as if to make
+sure of his means of escape in the event of an emergency.</p>
+
+<p>“Why,” he stammered, “I wanted to see the bishop
+alone,—a—confidentially, you know. A matter of some
+importance.”</p>
+
+<p>“But we shouldn’t have any secrets that we keep
+from each other, Barry. And I’m sure that if we go
+to the bishop together and agree on what to ask him,
+we can prevail on him to do almost anything for us.
+Oh, dear! I wish the person that’s in there would
+come out quick.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_235"></a>[235]</span></p>
+
+<p>Barry dragged his watch from his pocket and glanced
+at it.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ve got to go,” he said. “I can’t wait any longer.
+Important business at the mill.”</p>
+
+<p>He rose and started toward the hall, but Miss Chichester
+was nearest that avenue of escape, and she
+intercepted him and laid a beseeching hand on his
+arm.</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t, Barry! Don’t go! It won’t take five
+minutes, once the bishop’s at liberty.”</p>
+
+<p>Barry, in a fever of apprehension, was contemplating
+a sudden break for the street, when the library
+door opened and the bishop and his caller appeared.
+The visitor was the lady who, some weeks before, in a
+petulant mood, had declared her purpose of seeking
+comfort and satisfaction in another communion that
+recognizes the historic episcopate. But she had not
+gone there. She had felt, on second thought, that she
+could be of more service to Christianity by retaining
+her existing church connections and taking up arms
+against the rector. She was saying, as she emerged
+into the reception room:</p>
+
+<p>“The man is impossible, Bishop; perfectly impossible!
+He has driven most of us from the Church already,
+and the rest will follow very soon unless you
+suppress him without delay. Oh, here’s Jane Chichester.
+Miss Chichester will agree with me, I’m
+sure.”</p>
+
+<p>“Perfectly!” said Miss Chichester, retaining her
+hold on Barry’s arm notwithstanding the advent of
+the bishop and his caller.</p>
+
+<p>“And what is Mr. Malleson’s opinion?” asked the
+bishop, advancing and shaking hands courteously with
+Miss Chichester and warmly with Barry, and thereby
+loosing the young lady’s grip on the coat-sleeve of a
+greatly perturbed young man.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, it doesn’t matter much what Barry thinks,”
+interposed the pompous lady, rustling her gorgeous<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_236"></a>[236]</span>
+green silk gown; “he’s more than half-converted to
+socialism, anyway.”</p>
+
+<p>The bishop laughed.</p>
+
+<p>“How’s that, Barry?” he inquired. “Has some
+one been leading you into by and forbidden paths?”</p>
+
+<p>“No,” replied Barry, hesitatingly. “I mean, yes.
+Say, Bishop, I want to see you for a minute—alone—entirely
+alone; strictly confidential business.”</p>
+
+<p>“Certainly!” replied the bishop, affably. “I’m sure
+the ladies will excuse us. They can discuss, in our absence,
+fashion, society, religion, suffrage, or the Church,
+as they choose.”</p>
+
+<p>He bowed politely and smilingly to each woman in
+turn, drew Barry into the library, and closed the
+library door.</p>
+
+<p>With a sigh of relief the rescued young man dropped
+into the nearest chair.</p>
+
+<p>“She pretty near got me that time!” he exclaimed,
+pulling his handkerchief nervously from his pocket and
+wiping the perspiration from his forehead.</p>
+
+<p>“Who nearly got you?” inquired the bishop.</p>
+
+<p>“Why, Miss—— Say, Bishop, could you marry a
+couple that might drop in on you casually, suddenly,
+say just as though it were this afternoon?”</p>
+
+<p>“I could,” was the reply, “provided I was not
+trenching on the preserves of the parish priest, and
+provided the couple brought along their marriage
+license.”</p>
+
+<p>“Their what?”</p>
+
+<p>“Their marriage license.”</p>
+
+<p>“A fellow can’t get married unless he has a marriage
+license?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not in this state.”</p>
+
+<p>“And has he got to get the license himself?”</p>
+
+<p>“He must apply for it in person. But let me ask:
+what is the meaning of all these questions?”</p>
+
+<p>Barry did not reply. He heaved another great sigh
+of relief, and settled back in his chair. He had discovered<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_237"></a>[237]</span>
+a new barrier against sudden matrimony. When
+he did speak again he chose to change the subject.</p>
+
+<p>“You see,” he said, “I came to talk with you about
+Farrar. Now, he’s the right man in the right place.
+He’s doing a lot of good around here. I’d hate to see
+him kicked out.”</p>
+
+<p>“So would I.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then let’s keep him here. I’ll stand by him to the
+finish.”</p>
+
+<p>“But many of his parishioners demand that he shall
+be relieved.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s because they don’t appreciate him. They
+don’t sense what he’s doing. They’re not up to date.
+We run the Church according to modern methods these
+times, same as we do the mill.”</p>
+
+<p>“And those who are most insistent are communicants,
+vestrymen, prominent supporters.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I know I’m not a communicant nor a vestryman,
+but I say, Bishop, there are few men in the parish
+who are willing to do more for Farrar and his church
+than I am. I don’t know, by Jove! but I’d be willing
+to join the Church myself if it would help Farrar out.”</p>
+
+<p>“That sounds good. I shall hope to see your name
+on the list of candidates presented to me for confirmation
+next year.”</p>
+
+<p>“But the question is: what are we going to do for
+Farrar?”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m going to do all I can for him. I like him.”</p>
+
+<p>“So do I. So does Ruth Tracy, and Mrs. Bradley,
+and Hazzard, and Emberly, and a lot of us. Take my
+advice, Bishop, and keep him here. You won’t be
+sorry; I’ll give you my word for it.”</p>
+
+<p>Barry rose from his chair and added: “I won’t keep
+you any longer. There’s a lot of people out there to
+see you by this time. I’ve watched ’em through the
+window, getting out of their cars at the door. Now,
+you do as I tell you, Bishop, and everything will come
+out all right.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_238"></a>[238]</span></p>
+
+<p>He grasped the prelate’s hand warmly, turned toward
+the door, and then suddenly turned back.</p>
+
+<p>“Say, Bishop,” he said, “would you mind calling
+Jane Chichester in here just as soon as I open the
+door? She’s been waiting a long time to see you.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll be glad to.”</p>
+
+<p>“Thank you!” There was a tone of deep gratefulness
+in Barry’s voice.</p>
+
+<p>The bishop was as good as his word. Out of a half
+dozen callers waiting to see him he selected Miss Chichester
+for his next interview, and Barry made a successful
+escape.</p>
+
+<p>Westgate was the first member of the vestry to arrive
+at the Tracy house on the evening of the consultation
+with the bishop. He had not been there before
+since the night on which Ruth had decreed their separation.
+He looked around on the familiar walls of
+the library, burdened with books and rich with pictures,
+and his memory went back to those other evenings
+when the stately room was lighted by the presence
+of one who still held his heart in thrall. It was not
+merely an emotional sadness from which he suffered as
+he stood there; he was aware also of an actual, stifling
+pain in his breast, the reaction of spiritual distress on
+the physical organs of life. A great longing rose
+within him that he might hear the soft sweep of her
+garments on the staircase, just as he used to hear it in
+the old days, that he might see her figure outlined in
+the doorway, and catch the welcoming smile on her
+face—— There was a movement in the hall, the rustling
+of a gown, and then, not Ruth, but her mother
+fluttered in. She was trembling with excitement. She
+felt that the climax of an eventful day was about to be
+reached. Her overstrained nerves were yielding to the
+pressure that had been put on them.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, Philip!” she exclaimed. “I’m so glad you
+came first. I wanted to see you. I wanted to ask you
+not to let him send Mr. Farrar away.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_239"></a>[239]</span></p>
+
+<p>Westgate placed a chair for her and endeavored to
+quiet her.</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t think the bishop will make a decision of
+any kind to-night,” he assured her. “He may not care
+at any time to exercise his power to decree a direct dismissal.
+But why have you changed your mind in the
+matter?”</p>
+
+<p>“I haven’t changed my mind about his sermons and
+his ridiculous ideas and all that, but I hate to see him
+disgraced, and I’m so sorry for poor, dear Mrs. Farrar.
+I went to call on her to-day. You should have seen
+her, Philip. She’s a mere wreck. It was distressing
+the way she wept.”</p>
+
+<p>“I know. I’m as sorry as you are for Mrs. Farrar.”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s pitiful! I tried to get her to come with me to
+see the bishop, but she wouldn’t. She says she wants
+to go; she says it’s torture to her to stay in this city;
+but she doesn’t want her husband disgraced. Poor
+woman! She hardly knows what she wants. She’s
+beside herself.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m very sorry for Mrs. Farrar,” repeated Westgate.
+“It’s one of the sad results of a man’s misdeeds
+that the innocent members of his family are often the
+greater sufferers.”</p>
+
+<p>“So I want you,” went on Mrs. Tracy, “to plead
+with the bishop. He’ll listen to you. I talked with
+him but he wouldn’t give me any satisfaction. He said
+he couldn’t promise anything. I tried to get Ruth
+to talk with him; he’s very fond of Ruth; but she
+wouldn’t. I couldn’t reason with her. She says there’s
+a great principle involved. She says that if he’s wrong
+he’s tremendously wrong, and he ought to go; and if
+he’s right, as she believes he is, he is everlastingly right,
+and he ought to be vindicated, and honored and loved.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did she say he ought to be loved?”</p>
+
+<p>“Something like that. I don’t exactly remember.
+The whole thing is so perfectly dreadful!”</p>
+
+<p>“Mrs. Tracy, I believe that Ruth’s salvation depends<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_240"></a>[240]</span>
+on Mr. Farrar’s removal. The man has hypnotized her.
+She is under a spell.”</p>
+
+<p>The distracted woman searched Westgate’s face, trying
+to grasp the full meaning of his words.</p>
+
+<p>“Philip!” she gasped, “you—you don’t really
+mean——”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I don’t mean that he has wilfully and maliciously
+placed her under his control. He is not a
+scoundrel. But she is, nevertheless, absolutely pliant
+to his will.”</p>
+
+<p>“And you think that, for Ruth’s sake, he ought to
+go?”</p>
+
+<p>“I say that unhesitatingly.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, dear! What shall we do?”</p>
+
+<p>“You must quiet yourself, Mrs. Tracy, and await
+developments. As I have already told you, I doubt
+whether there will be any dismissal to-night. However,
+the final result will undoubtedly depend on the
+attitude assumed by the bishop. And so far as I am
+able to exercise any influence on his judgment, I shall
+exercise it in favor of the earliest possible dismissal of
+the rector of Christ Church.”</p>
+
+<p>“Philip, this is terrible!”</p>
+
+<p>She would have said more, but at that moment other
+members of the vestry arrived, and she precipitately
+fled.</p>
+
+<p>When the bishop of the diocese entered the library
+most of the vestrymen were already there. The rector,
+together with the two remaining members, came a few
+moments later. There were cordial exchanges of personal
+greetings, and some general conversation of a
+cheerful nature, for the bishop was what is called a
+food mixer. And this was his favorite parish. He
+had always enjoyed his visits and visitations here, and
+his friendships with the prominent men and women of
+Christ Church. The strained relations between many
+of these men and women and their rector had therefore
+given him deep concern. How to heal the breach was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_241"></a>[241]</span>
+a problem that taxed his episcopal judgment and ingenuity
+to the utmost. He deplored the loss of spirituality
+that must necessarily result from the quarrel.
+But it was his especial duty, as a bishop, to preserve
+the corporate integrity of organized religion, and to
+this end he felt that he must now bend all his efforts.
+Yet he approached his task with deep misgiving.</p>
+
+<p>Seated, finally, at the head of the library table, he
+expressed his sorrow at the conflict which had arisen,
+and his desire to restore peace and harmony in the parish.
+It was his earnest wish, he said, that the case
+might be settled by the exercise of his godly judgment
+in accordance with the admonition of the canon, without
+the necessity of proceeding to a formal trial and
+decree. To that end he had called the vestry to meet
+with him in consultation; and, in order that there
+might be a full understanding of the case, he now invited
+those who had formulated the charges against
+the rector to give him the specific causes of their complaint.</p>
+
+<p>Thereupon Westgate, who had been chosen to represent
+the complainants, arose to present their case.</p>
+
+<p>He sketched briefly the history of the parish, and
+referred to its record for harmony and good works up
+to the time of the present incumbency. He then dwelt
+specifically on the deviations of the rector from the accustomed
+activities of a parish priest. He spoke of his
+attempt to force upon his parishioners the practice of
+an unwelcome, if not offensive, social equality, of his
+affiliation with elements in the community that were
+indifferent or inimical to religion, of his advocacy of an
+economic creed entirely at variance with the doctrines
+and discipline of the Church, of his utter disregard of
+the wishes and feelings of the bulk of his parishioners,
+and of his obstinate refusal to be influenced or guided
+in parish activities by his vestry, or by the wise judgment
+of those who were responsible for the maintenance
+and prosperity of Christ Church.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_242"></a>[242]</span></p>
+
+<p>The bishop heard him through, listening attentively,
+but made no comment. He then called upon the accused
+priest to reply.</p>
+
+<p>In the rector’s response there was no bitterness, nor
+any show of resentment. He stated his position and
+his beliefs, his scheme of work in the parish, his hopes
+and aspirations for his people, and his hearty desire to
+unite all those affiliated in any way with Christ Church,
+without distinction of class, into one aggressive body
+pledged to the spiritual and material regeneration of
+men.</p>
+
+<p>“I ask nothing for myself,” he said in conclusion.
+“If my Reverend Father in God shall see fit to separate
+me from the people whom I love, I shall accept the decree
+without a murmur. In that event my only grief
+and fear would be that these sheep that I have shepherded
+will become scattered and lost. It is for their
+sakes, and for their sakes alone, that I desire to stay.”</p>
+
+<p>“Is it not possible,” asked the bishop, “that you
+have placed too great emphasis on the wants and demands
+of the poor, and have given undue attention to
+those who take but a passing interest in the Church?”</p>
+
+<p>“I think not,” was the reply. “In my judgment it
+is the indifferent who should be sought out and urged;
+and in my belief it is the poor who need the greater
+attention as compared with the rich. They are children
+of the desolate. They are many more than are
+the children of her who is favored and blessed.”</p>
+
+<p>“But have you given sufficient thought to those who,
+for many years, have devoted themselves with single-hearted
+solicitude to the interests of Christ Church, and
+who have a right to feel that your duty toward them
+is at least equal to your duty toward those who have
+hitherto been strangers to religion?”</p>
+
+<p>Westgate smiled. He felt that the bishop was reaching
+the vital point in the issue.</p>
+
+<p>“I feel,” replied the rector, “that I have done my
+full duty to all my people.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_243"></a>[243]</span></p>
+
+<p>“And you have carefully considered the protests and
+appeals of those of your parishioners who have not
+agreed with you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Carefully and prayerfully. I cannot concede what
+they ask. I cannot yield to their demands without
+stultifying myself in the eyes of men, and proving false
+to the trust which God has imposed on me.”</p>
+
+<p>It was plain that his unyielding purpose left no room
+for compromise. The thing must be fought out. The
+bishop took up and glanced at the written complaint
+that had been filed with him.</p>
+
+<p>“You are charged here,” he said, “with having
+violated the canons of the Church and the rubrics of
+the prayer-book. What have you to say to that
+charge?”</p>
+
+<p>“I have not knowingly violated any law of the
+Church,” was the reply. “I believe in, and I have not
+failed to preach, every vital doctrine set forth in our
+articles of religion.”</p>
+
+<p>The bishop turned to Westgate.</p>
+
+<p>“You have charged this priest,” he said, “with
+having taught doctrines contrary to those held by the
+Church. Will you kindly amplify the charge?”</p>
+
+<p>“Certainly!” was the quick response. “He has
+declared himself to be a socialist, and he has upheld,
+publicly and privately, the main principles promulgated
+by the socialistic body. These principles are contrary
+to the doctrines of the Church.”</p>
+
+<p>“I am,” explained the rector, “a Christian socialist.”</p>
+
+<p>“And what,” retorted Westgate, “is a Christian
+socialist? There is no such thing, nor can there be in
+the very nature of the case. The two terms, Christianity
+and socialism, are fundamentally antagonistic
+to one another, and must always remain so. You might
+as well speak of peaceful war.”</p>
+
+<p>The bishop shook his head doubtfully.</p>
+
+<p>“Are you conversant, Mr. Westgate,” he asked,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_244"></a>[244]</span>
+“with the movement inaugurated by Kingsley and
+Maurice of the Church of England and denominated
+Christian socialism? I do not understand that Mr.
+Farrar has gone so far in his beliefs and declarations as
+did these churchmen and their followers, and no ecclesiastical
+condemnation was visited on them.”</p>
+
+<p>“I am well aware,” replied Westgate, “of the
+movement in England of which you speak. I am also
+well aware that, so far as their religious aspect was
+concerned, the schemes of Maurice and Kingsley failed
+utterly, as did the purely economic scheme of Robert
+Owen who preceded them. Indeed, the only socialistic
+scheme that has ever survived the test of years is the one
+put forth by the atheistic school of Germany, the one
+that is growing like a Upas tree to-day. The whole
+idea of so-called Christian socialism has been condemned
+by churchmen abroad in language far more severe than
+any that I have used. Clergymen over there who have
+resorted to Fabian tracts as a means for exploiting
+unchristian doctrines are not those who are doing the
+Lord’s work most effectually in the United Kingdom
+to-day.”</p>
+
+<p>The bishop’s eyes snapped. Not with anger, but
+with interest and eagerness. He dearly loved a controversy
+such as this, and here, evidently, was a foeman
+worthy of his steel. He started vigorously to make
+answer to Westgate and then suddenly checked himself.
+He realized that this was neither the time nor place to
+enter into an argument on the subject of social philosophy.
+He contented himself with asking quietly:</p>
+
+<p>“Are you familiar, Mr. Westgate, with the Encyclical
+issued by the Lambeth Conference, and with the report
+made by the Joint Commission on the Relations of
+Capital and Labor to our last General Convention, and,
+if so, do you agree with the opinion therein expressed
+that the Church cannot stand officially for or against
+socialism?”</p>
+
+<p>“I am entirely familiar,” was the reply, “with the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_245"></a>[245]</span>
+matters to which you refer; and I agree that it is not
+the province of the Church to make war on socialism
+or any other economic doctrine. Her concern, as the
+same report declares, is with the spirit, and not with
+any outward form of society. Nor, by the same token,
+can the Church afford to have one of her priests appear
+as the protagonist of an economic policy which, carried
+to its logical conclusion, would destroy the life of the
+Church.”</p>
+
+<p>Again the bishop started to controvert Westgate’s
+statement, again checked himself, and asked, as quietly
+as before:</p>
+
+<p>“Are you aware that our beloved Phillips Brooks
+approached very close to the position which you are
+condemning this priest for occupying?”</p>
+
+<p>“I am aware that Bishop Brooks was a Christian
+democrat, but a Christian socialist, never!”</p>
+
+<p>The bishop smiled. He admired Westgate’s pugnacity.
+He longed to lock horns with him in argument,
+but he felt that he must yield his desire to the necessities
+and proprieties of the occasion. With a sigh he
+picked up the written complaint which was lying on
+the table before him, and glanced at it.</p>
+
+<p>“You have here charged your rector,” he said, “with
+having administered the holy communion in a manner
+contrary to the rubrics. Will you please specify?”</p>
+
+<p>“Certainly,” was the response. “The rubric for the
+holy communion commands that the minister shall not
+receive any one to the communion who has done any
+wrong to his neighbor by word or deed. Mr. Farrar
+has repeatedly administered this sacrament to avowed
+socialists who preach the confiscation of their neighbors’
+goods, and who stand ready to practice what they
+preach so soon as they can so change the law that they
+will not suffer the usual penalty.”</p>
+
+<p>The bishop smiled again, but he shook his head
+impatiently.</p>
+
+<p>“Is not that objection rather far-fetched?” he asked.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_246"></a>[246]</span></p>
+
+<p>“I do not think so,” was the reply. “He has, by
+both precept and example, placed the seal of the Church
+on a doctrine which is utterly subversive of social order
+and human rights. I do not think the Church will
+tolerate it.”</p>
+
+<p>Without making a reply the bishop glanced again at
+the complaint. It was evident that he was not inclined
+to give serious consideration to Westgate’s attack on
+the rector’s attitude toward socialism.</p>
+
+<p>“What have you to say,” he inquired, “concerning
+your charge that the minister has violated the rubric in
+the order for the burial of the dead?”</p>
+
+<p>“This,” was the prompt reply. “I charge him with
+having, in violation of the rubric, used the office of the
+Church in the burial of one, John Bradley, an unbaptized
+adult, a scoffer at religion, and a detractor of the
+Church.”</p>
+
+<p>The bishop did not smile this time. He looked sober
+and perplexed. At last the objections had advanced
+beyond the domain of triviality, and were directed at
+things of moment, things which might undermine the
+authority and integrity of the Church. He turned to
+the rector and inquired:</p>
+
+<p>“What have you to say to this, Mr. Farrar?”</p>
+
+<p>“I did,” replied the minister, “commit the body of
+John Bradley to the grave. Whether in his lifetime
+he was baptized or unbaptized, whether he had been a
+believer or a scoffer, I did not stop to inquire.”</p>
+
+<p>“Was it not your duty to have done so?”</p>
+
+<p>“Under the circumstances, I think not. I was at
+the burial merely as an onlooker when I was suddenly
+confronted with a request to officiate.”</p>
+
+<p>“What form of service did you use?”</p>
+
+<p>“I do not know. I may not have used any. I have
+no recollection. With the body of a man before me
+who had suffered at the hands of the ruling class, and
+who had died in the shadow of a deep injustice, I
+simply said the things that came into my mind to say.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_247"></a>[247]</span></p>
+
+<p>“It is important that we should know what those
+things were. The Church cannot tolerate freedom of
+speech under her auspices at the burial of the unbaptized
+dead, nor the unwarranted use of her service
+at the grave of one who has died scoffing at religion.”</p>
+
+<p>“I wish it were in my power to reproduce my words.
+I should not be ashamed of them, and I am sure they
+would not condemn me.”</p>
+
+<p>The bishop, worried and uncertain, looked anxiously
+around the room. But, before he could make up his
+mind what to say or do next, Emberly rose in his
+place. It was evident that the man was laboring under
+great excitement, but he spoke, nevertheless, with commendable
+restraint.</p>
+
+<p>“If the bishop desires,” he said, “to know what
+words were used, I believe we can supply him with
+that information. The widow of John Bradley is here
+in the house. I have heard her say on more than one
+occasion that the words of our rector’s brief address at
+the burial of her husband are indelibly stamped on her
+memory.”</p>
+
+<p>“Can the woman be brought before us?” asked the
+bishop.</p>
+
+<p>“Without doubt,” replied Emberly. “I saw her
+come in, and I will try to find her.” He left the room
+in search of the desired witness.</p>
+
+<p>It was true that Mary Bradley was in the house.
+She knew that the bishop was to hear the charges
+against the rector this night; everybody knew it;
+charges which, if sustained, would surely result in his
+humiliation and disgrace. She felt that the one man
+above all others to whom she owed any gleam of light
+that had ever fallen across the darkness of her life was
+in imminent peril. She was torn with anxiety concerning
+him. The four walls of her home on factory
+Hill could not contain her. She found a neighbor’s
+boy for an escort, and started out. Impelled by a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_248"></a>[248]</span>
+force with which she did not and could not parley, she
+made her way across the city to Fountain Park, and
+into the arms of Ruth Tracy, stretched out to receive
+her. The Mary and Martha of Holy Writ were not
+more concerned for the welfare of the persecuted Christ
+than were these two women for the safety of the man
+to whom each, in a way and to an extent unknown to
+the other, was supremely devoted. In the woman
+from Factory Hill it was the desire to be near him in
+his hour of trial that was paramount. She might, by
+some bare possibility, be able to serve him, to defend
+him, to refute his enemies. At least she would know,
+without a night of dreadful suspense, what fate had
+befallen him. Then Emberly came to summon her,
+and when she knew what was wanted she went with
+him gladly.</p>
+
+<p>In the library there was a halt in the proceedings,
+and an awkward lull. The full and florid face of the
+bishop was flushed more deeply than usual. With the
+fingers of one hand he tapped nervously the engraved
+seal of the big episcopal ring that ornamented the other
+hand, and awaited in silence the advent of the witness.
+The expectant and apprehensive countenances of the
+men who faced him marked their own agitation of
+mind. The rector alone of all of them sat confident
+and unperturbed. The wide doors into the hall, having
+been opened, were not again closed. Then Emberly
+entered with Mary Bradley. All eyes were turned on
+the woman. She was not abashed, nor did she appear
+in any way to be ill at ease. Yet there had never in
+her life before been a moment when her nerves were
+more nearly at the breaking point.</p>
+
+<p>“My good woman,” said the bishop, “we are informed
+that the rector of Christ Church officiated at
+the burial of your deceased husband. Is this true?”</p>
+
+<p>“It is true,” she replied, “that he made a brief address
+at my husband’s grave.”</p>
+
+<p>“At whose request?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_249"></a>[249]</span></p>
+
+<p>“At mine.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did he use a prayer-book, or any particular form of
+religious service?”</p>
+
+<p>“He did not.”</p>
+
+<p>“Can you remember what he said?”</p>
+
+<p>“As well as though it had been said yesterday.”</p>
+
+<p>“Will you kindly repeat his words, as you remember
+them?”</p>
+
+<p>“I will. He said: ‘In that day when the grave
+shall give up its dead, and the souls of them that were
+in prison shall be free, may we know that the unchained
+spirit of this our brother has reached the fulfilment of
+the joys that were denied him here, but which, through
+all time, have awaited his coming into that glorious
+country where toil and patience and a good conscience
+shall have their reasonable reward.’ And then he said:
+‘Amen.’”</p>
+
+<p>She bowed her head as though in reverent memory
+of the event. The room was so still that men heard
+their own hearts beat.</p>
+
+<p>The bishop sighed.</p>
+
+<p>“Was that all?” he asked.</p>
+
+<p>“That was all.”</p>
+
+<p>“We thank you. You may retire.”</p>
+
+<p>She turned to go, but, before she had taken a step,
+Westgate rose to his feet.</p>
+
+<p>“May I interrogate the witness?” he asked.</p>
+
+<p>“If it is the pleasure of the witness to answer your
+interrogations,” the bishop replied.</p>
+
+<p>“I will answer anything,” said Mary Bradley.</p>
+
+<p>“Had your husband ever been baptized?” inquired
+Westgate.</p>
+
+<p>“I do not know,” she replied. “I greatly doubt it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did he ever attend the services of any church?”</p>
+
+<p>“Never, to my knowledge.”</p>
+
+<p>“Was he not an avowed unbeliever in religion?”</p>
+
+<p>“He knew nothing about religion. I think he cared
+less,” was the frank reply.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_250"></a>[250]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Did he not openly scoff at piety, and ridicule the
+Church?”</p>
+
+<p>“I do not think he was sufficiently concerned about
+either of them to scoff at or ridicule them.”</p>
+
+<p>She met his questions with such frankness and bluntness
+that Westgate, nettled more at the manner than at
+the matter of her replies, resolved to hit closer at the
+mark.</p>
+
+<p>“You asked the rector to do what he did at the
+burial?”</p>
+
+<p>“I did.”</p>
+
+<p>“Are you, yourself, a member of any church?”</p>
+
+<p>“I am not.”</p>
+
+<p>“Nevertheless, you attend the services at Christ
+Church?”</p>
+
+<p>“I go every Sunday.”</p>
+
+<p>“Do you believe in God?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not in the God you patronize and profit by.”</p>
+
+<p>“Do you believe in Jesus Christ?”</p>
+
+<p>“As you picture Him, no. As the Bible pictures
+Him, yes. He was the friend of the poor and the oppressed.”</p>
+
+<p>“You are a socialist?”</p>
+
+<p>“I am.”</p>
+
+<p>“And the secretary of the Socialist League?”</p>
+
+<p>“I am.”</p>
+
+<p>“Do you know one Stephen Lamar?”</p>
+
+<p>“I know him.”</p>
+
+<p>“He is prominent in your league?”</p>
+
+<p>“He is an important member of it.”</p>
+
+<p>“He is a radical socialist?”</p>
+
+<p>“I have heard him say that he is.”</p>
+
+<p>“And an atheist?”</p>
+
+<p>“I have heard him say that he is.”</p>
+
+<p>“You are frequently in his company?”</p>
+
+<p>“As often as my business with him requires it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Is it not a fact that this Stephen Lamar is your accepted
+lover?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_251"></a>[251]</span></p>
+
+<p>She shot at him a look blazing with indignation.</p>
+
+<p>“You have no right,” she said, “to ask me that
+question, and I shall not answer it.”</p>
+
+<p>Westgate paid no heed to her refusal. With forefinger
+pointed at her to emphasize his demand, he
+went on:</p>
+
+<p>“Two weeks ago you made an afternoon call at this
+house?”</p>
+
+<p>“I had that pleasure.”</p>
+
+<p>“And when you went home darkness had fallen?”</p>
+
+<p>“I believe so. Why do you ask?”</p>
+
+<p>“We shall see. And on your way across the city
+you were accompanied by a man?”</p>
+
+<p>“Sir, you have no right——”</p>
+
+<p>“And this man walked with you across the Malleson
+foot-bridge?”</p>
+
+<p>Pallid, with startled eyes, with clenched hands, she
+cried out again:</p>
+
+<p>“I say you have no right——”</p>
+
+<p>“And in the middle of the bridge, this man, with his
+arm around your waist——”</p>
+
+<p>“Stop!”</p>
+
+<p>It was not Mary Bradley this time. It was the
+rector of Christ Church who spoke. He was on his
+feet. His eyes were flashing and his voice was resonant
+with anger. “Stop! You shall not bully and
+insult this woman. I’ll not permit it.”</p>
+
+<p>“I desire,” retorted Westgate, “to reveal the personal
+character and conduct of the star witness whom
+you have brought here to-night to bolster up your lost
+cause.”</p>
+
+<p>“I have brought no witness here, and you know it.
+And you shall not seize on an innocent circumstance to
+drag the name of an honest woman in the mire. I say
+I’ll not permit it.”</p>
+
+<p>“And I say that the woman is her own detractor,
+and I shall show her to this company in her true
+light——”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_252"></a>[252]</span></p>
+
+<p>But he got no further. He was suddenly aware that
+in the doorway leading from the hall Ruth Tracy was
+standing, and the mysterious power of her presence
+struck silence into his defaming tongue. At her side
+was her mother, and behind them was the master of
+the house. The loud voices, the heated retorts, heard
+by them through the open doors as they sat in their
+room across the hall, had drawn them resistlessly to
+the scene of the conflict. At the moment of Westgate’s
+startled pause, Ruth, after flinging one scornful
+glance at her former lover, swept across the hall and
+put her arm protectingly around Mary Bradley’s waist.
+The vestrymen all started to their feet, and some of
+them began to talk excitedly, and to make loud demands.
+The situation had become acute, extreme, impossible.</p>
+
+<p>The bishop rose and threw both his hands into the
+air above his head.</p>
+
+<p>“I will hear no more!” he cried, his voice rising
+high above the increasing clamor in the room. “I will
+hear no more!” he repeated, “and may God give you
+better hearts before we meet again.”</p>
+
+<p>Ruth drew Mary Bradley from the room, pushing by
+her mother who stood in the doorway sobbing and
+clinging to her astounded husband. The vestrymen
+“went out one by one, beginning at the eldest, even
+unto the last.”</p>
+
+<p>Only the minister remained. The bishop turned to
+him, smiled grimly, and said:</p>
+
+<p>“‘Where are those thine accusers?’”</p>
+
+<p>And the minister replied: “They have cast their
+handful of stones at me and have gone.”</p>
+
+<p>“Farrar, I want you to come with me to my room.”</p>
+
+<p>Two hours later the rector of Christ Church left the
+Tracy mansion, and started down the hill toward home
+in the face of a blinding snow-storm. And ever and
+anon, as he strode along, he broke away from the
+memory of the heart-searching counsel given to him by<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_253"></a>[253]</span>
+his Reverend Father in God to wonder where Westgate
+had learned of the episode at the bridge, and what
+unwarranted and unsavory interpretation he was endeavoring
+to place on it, and what malign purpose he
+had in mind.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_254"></a>[254]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV<br>
+<small>LOVE VERSUS LAW</small></h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>On the day following the conference with the bishop
+the rector of Christ Church called at Philip Westgate’s
+office. He did not seek a quarrel, but he did seek an
+explanation. He was not one to sit quietly or fearfully
+under insinuations which might or might not reflect on
+his personal character or his ministerial office. All his
+life he had lived in the open, clear of conscience, afraid
+of no man. He would live so still. Therefore he sought
+Westgate. The lawyer was in and was not engaged.
+He still had a bitter taste in his mouth from the night
+before. He was not wholly satisfied with what he had
+done at the conference with the bishop. Under the
+clear light of day, in the absence of any irritating impulses,
+his ardor cooled by the intervening night, he
+had come to the conclusion that, in his interrogation of
+Mary Bradley, he had overreached himself. He confided
+to his senior partner, Mr. Tracy, his opinion that
+he had made a damned fool of himself. And his senior
+partner fully agreed with him. It was, therefore, in a
+spirit of partial humility that he received the rector of
+Christ Church. But he made no explanations or apologies.
+He felt that whatever of this nature he might
+owe to others, he owed nothing to this man. He
+simply waited to be informed of the purpose of the
+call. He had not long to wait, for his visitor had a
+habit of going directly to the point.</p>
+
+<p>“I want to talk with you, Mr. Westgate,” he said,
+“about the incident of last evening. I would like to
+know your purpose in asking those last questions of
+Mrs. Bradley.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_255"></a>[255]</span></p>
+
+<p>“I do not object to telling you,” replied Westgate.
+“It should have been plain to you at the time. My
+purpose was to make it clear to the bishop that the
+woman whom you or your friends produced in your
+behalf was utterly unworthy to testify in any matter
+relating to the welfare of the Church.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why unworthy?”</p>
+
+<p>“Because she is a menace to society, a disbeliever in
+God, a scoffer at religion, a woman who violates all
+rules of womanly propriety at her pleasure.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why do you make that last assertion?”</p>
+
+<p>“As she appears to be your assistant and associate in
+your economic enterprises, I presumed that you were
+familiar with her character and reputation. However,
+I may say that a woman who within three months of
+her husband’s death spreads her alluring net to entrap
+the weak-minded son of a millionaire, and at the same
+time openly consorts with another man, a demagogue,
+an atheist, a vilifier of both Church and state, surely
+such a woman cannot be described as a model of propriety.”</p>
+
+<p>The minister, by the exercise of great self-restraint,
+maintained his coolness and intrepidity.</p>
+
+<p>“The two men to whom you refer,” he said, “are
+Barry Malleson and Stephen Lamar. Will you kindly
+give me a single instance of unwomanly conduct on the
+part of Mrs. Bradley with either of them?”</p>
+
+<p>“Certainly! Had it not been for your interruption
+last night you would have heard it all then and there.
+It is a fact, as I intended to make her admit, that in
+the early evening, on the Malleson foot-bridge, she indulged
+in most unseemly demonstrations of affection
+with this man Lamar.”</p>
+
+<p>“Was that the occasion to which you referred last
+evening?”</p>
+
+<p>“It was.”</p>
+
+<p>“And it is your information that Lamar is the man
+who was with her on the bridge?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_256"></a>[256]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Certainly! I can prove it.”</p>
+
+<p>“You are mistaken. I know who the man was, and
+it was not Stephen Lamar.”</p>
+
+<p>“Who was it, then?”</p>
+
+<p>“It was I, Robert Farrar.”</p>
+
+<p>“You!”</p>
+
+<p>“It was I. I helped Mrs. Bradley across the bridge.”</p>
+
+<p>“Impossible! This man had his arm around the
+woman’s waist.”</p>
+
+<p>“I had my arm about Mrs. Bradley’s waist. In that
+manner I assisted her across the bridge. Nor were
+there any demonstrations of affection of any kind.”</p>
+
+<p>The lawyer stared at his visitor in amazement. He
+could not conceive why this man should so frankly assume
+responsibility for an act of impropriety properly
+charged to another.</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t believe you,” he said, bluntly. “You are
+trying, for some inscrutable reason, to shield the
+woman.”</p>
+
+<p>“The woman needs no protection save against such
+slanderous tongues as yours.”</p>
+
+<p>Westgate did not resent the remark. Indeed, he did
+not fully appreciate it. He was too busily engaged in
+wondering at the minister’s attitude. For a moment
+he did not even reply. Then he asked:</p>
+
+<p>“Am I distinctly to understand that it was you
+and not Lamar who was with Mrs. Bradley on the
+bridge?”</p>
+
+<p>“I cannot make the statement of that fact too positive,
+nor can I state too positively that on that occasion
+Mrs. Bradley conducted herself as became a modest,
+refined, pure-minded woman. Westgate, some one has
+been telling you one of those half-truths which are
+‘ever the worst of lies,’ and you have been only too
+eager to envelop it with an evil motive.”</p>
+
+<p>Still Westgate showed no resentment. He was apparently
+immersed in thought.</p>
+
+<p>“Do you realize,” he inquired at last, “what sort of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_257"></a>[257]</span>
+a weapon you are putting into my hands to-day—a
+weapon with which I can, at any moment, blacken
+your character, and blast your career?”</p>
+
+<p>“I realize nothing,” replied the rector, “except that
+a woman’s good name has been attacked, and that it is
+my duty to defend her. If you choose to divert the
+knowledge I have given you to the base uses of slander,
+that will be your sin, not mine.”</p>
+
+<p>At last Westgate began to wake up. His face paled
+and he rose to his feet.</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Farrar,” he said, “I think this interview had
+better come to an end.”</p>
+
+<p>“I quite agree with you,” was the response. “My
+errand is done. I have the explanation I came for. I
+believe that is all.”</p>
+
+<p>“So far as I am concerned, it is.”</p>
+
+<p>There were no more words on either side. The
+rector bowed politely, and then left the office, as clear-eyed,
+as high-minded and unafraid as when he entered
+it.</p>
+
+<p>But on Westgate’s soul there lay a burden of knowledge
+which was to tempt him sorely in the days to
+come.</p>
+
+<p>The story of the sensational episode at the conference
+with the bishop did not reach Barry Malleson’s ears
+until the second day after its occurrence. It came, as
+one might have expected it would, burdened with
+exaggerations. Barry was greatly disturbed. He
+walked aimlessly for a while about his quarters at the
+mill, then he put on his overcoat, hat and gloves, and
+announced that he was going up to see Phil Westgate.
+But when he got as far as Main Street he changed his
+mind, and started down-town instead. It had occurred
+to him that before attacking Westgate it might be wise
+to get the facts in the case directly from Mrs. Bradley.
+He would be more sure of his ground. When he reached
+Mrs. Bradley’s office in the Potter Building he found
+her engaged. He excused himself, backed out, paced<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_258"></a>[258]</span>
+up and down the hall for a few minutes, and then went
+down to the street. He did not go back up-town, but
+he walked down through the wholesale district, picked
+his way among boxes and barrels, and examined crates
+of fruit and vegetables and poultry. When, after a
+half hour, he returned to the office of the League, he
+found Mrs. Bradley alone. She had expected that he
+would return, and was waiting for him. It was not an
+unusual thing for him to visit her there; scarcely a day
+had passed of late that he had not come in on one errand
+or another. He was imbibing socialism slowly, as his
+mental system was able to absorb the doctrine. So far
+as he understood it he was willing to subscribe to its
+principles. There was a basic element of justice underlying
+it all that quite appealed to him. It is true that
+the socialists of the city did not greatly pride themselves
+on their secretary’s new convert, but this accession
+to their ranks gave deep satisfaction to Mrs.
+Bradley. Not that Barry’s assistance or influence
+amounted to much, but that she knew the thing to be
+a thorn in the flesh of Richard Malleson. Lying in the
+background of her mind, living and throbbing, as it did
+on that disastrous day in court, was still her revengeful
+purpose to annoy, to humiliate, to bring to defeat and
+disaster, if possible, the man who was responsible for
+her having been sent empty-handed from the hall of
+justice. Lamar understood her motive and sympathized
+with her. He even suffered her, without
+marked protest, to receive Barry’s open attentions.
+He knew that, in receiving them, the one thought in
+her mind was to harass the young man’s aristocratic
+father with the prospect of having for a daughter-in-law
+that queen of the proletarians, Mary Bradley.
+There was many a quip passed back and forth between
+them concerning Barry’s infatuation, and many
+an exchange of meaning glances, as together they instructed
+him in the elementary principles of socialism.
+And Barry, floundering beyond his depth in both<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_259"></a>[259]</span>
+philosophy and love, frowned on by his father, upbraided
+by his mother and sisters, ridiculed by his
+friends, sought solace ever more and more frequently
+in the company of the woman who had cast her spell
+upon him. He did not notice the care-worn look on
+her face, and the weariness in her eyes, as he reëntered
+her office that afternoon; the radiance of her smile
+made all else dim. And there was no abatement from
+the usual warmth of her welcome.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ve just heard,” said Barry, “about that affair up
+at Tracy’s night before last. I was going up to have
+it out with Phil, but I decided to come in and talk it
+over with you first.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m so glad you did,” she said. “I don’t want you
+to have it out with him. I don’t want you to talk with
+him about it, or even mention it to him.”</p>
+
+<p>“But the thing’s all over town to-day.”</p>
+
+<p>“Who—whom do they say it was who is alleged to
+have been with me on the bridge?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, Phil and that crowd allow it was Steve, but
+some say it was me. Now, you know I wasn’t there.”</p>
+
+<p>The look of anxiety dropped from her face and she
+laughed merrily.</p>
+
+<p>“Certainly!” she replied. “I know it was not you.
+And I’ve told you it wasn’t Steve.”</p>
+
+<p>“But it must have been somebody.”</p>
+
+<p>“Do you doubt me, Barry?”</p>
+
+<p>She had been calling him by his given name of
+late, and had given him permission to call her by
+hers.</p>
+
+<p>“N-no. Only the thing’s mighty funny. Jane
+Chichester swore she couldn’t be mistaken.”</p>
+
+<p>Mary Bradley laughed again.</p>
+
+<p>“Ah!” she said; “then it was Miss Chichester who
+witnessed that surprising exhibition of womanly immodesty.
+Don’t you think she was giving rein to her
+imagination?”</p>
+
+<p>“She might have been,” admitted Barry. “She<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_260"></a>[260]</span>
+does imagine things sometimes. Do you know, I
+think she imagines, sometimes, that I’m really going
+to marry her.”</p>
+
+<p>“But you’re not, are you, Barry?”</p>
+
+<p>“Mrs. Bradley!—I mean Mary—how can you ask
+such a question when you know my only ambition is
+to marry you.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s very nice of you, Barry. But what would
+your father say to it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, he’s dead set against it, of course.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why is he dead set against it?”</p>
+
+<p>“He thinks you’re not in our class.”</p>
+
+<p>“It would jolt his pride?”</p>
+
+<p>“It would smash it. But you know, Mary, that
+would make no difference to me.”</p>
+
+<p>“It might cost you your job.”</p>
+
+<p>“No fear of that. They can’t get along without me
+at the mill. Much of the success of the company is
+due to the way I manage things there.”</p>
+
+<p>“Indeed!” She smiled, and yet she felt that it was
+pathetic in a way—this man’s confidence in his own
+ability, his open-mindedness and sincerity. One thing
+only she rolled as a sweet morsel under her tongue:
+Richard Malleson’s distress at his son’s infatuation.</p>
+
+<p>But Barry’s mind still dwelt on the bridge incident.
+“If I thought,” he said, “that there was the slightest
+thing in that story of Jane’s about you and Steve——”</p>
+
+<p>She reached her hand across the table and laid it on
+his as she had a habit of doing of late, and looked
+serenely into his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>“Barry,” she said, “you dear old f—fellow! If I
+thought there was the slightest danger of your getting
+jealous over that story, I’d make Jane Chichester eat
+her words. As it is, ‘the least said the soonest mended.’
+Oh, here’s Steve now.”</p>
+
+<p>Lifting her eyes at the sound of footsteps in the hall
+she had discovered Lamar in the doorway, and had
+hastily withdrawn her hand.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_261"></a>[261]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Come in, Steve,” she called out to him. “Barry’s
+here. We were just talking about you.”</p>
+
+<p>“And I’ve just been talking about you,” replied Steve
+as he entered the room, giving scant notice to Barry,
+and seated himself at the end or the table.</p>
+
+<p>“What about me?” she inquired.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ve just heard,” he replied, “about the affair up at
+Tracy’s the other night, and about the way that bully-ragging
+lawyer heckled you. I was going right up
+there to take it out of his hide, but I thought I’d
+better come in first and get the thing straight.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s right, Steve. That’s what Barry did.
+Didn’t you, Barry?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” responded Barry. “I was going up there
+myself to have a reckoning with Phil; but Mary says,
+‘Don’t go.’”</p>
+
+<p>“I say the same thing to you, Steve,” said the
+woman. “Don’t go. I want the matter dropped. I
+don’t want either of you to discuss it with another soul.
+If you do, the one that does it need never speak to me
+again.”</p>
+
+<p>She sat resolutely back in her chair, facing each man
+in turn, looking at them with eyes of authority.</p>
+
+<p>“But,” protested Lamar, “so far as I can understand,
+the whole town’s talking about it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Indeed!” she replied; “and which of you two gentlemen
+do they say was with me on the bridge?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, they’re not quite sure.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then we’ll settle it here among ourselves. Was it
+you, Steve?”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll swear it wasn’t,” emphatically.</p>
+
+<p>“Good! Was it you, Barry?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, Mrs. Bradley, on my soul it wasn’t.”</p>
+
+<p>“There you are, gentlemen. Honors are even.” She
+laughed and added: “Now you can shake hands and
+make up. The bridge incident is closed.”</p>
+
+<p>But Lamar sat staring at Barry incredulously. He
+had made up his mind that, since he had not been the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_262"></a>[262]</span>
+man in the bridge case, it must necessarily have been
+Barry. And he had come to Mary Bradley, not alone
+for information with which to confront Westgate, but
+also to file a vigorous protest with her against her
+conduct with his inconsequential rival. Barry’s denial
+had taken the ground from under his feet. He could
+scarcely believe that the man was telling the truth, yet
+no one had ever known Barry to variate a hair’s
+breadth from the exact truth as he understood it.</p>
+
+<p>“Moreover,” added Mary Bradley, “it’s past closing
+time, and I want to start home this minute, and I will
+thank you gentlemen to permit me to close the office.”</p>
+
+<p>Both men rose to their feet, expressed their regret at
+having delayed her, said good-night to her, and went
+out together. Side by side they walked up the street,
+chatting as they went, brother socialists, friendly rivals
+for the favor of a fascinating woman. Lamar stopped
+at the Silver Star, but Barry would not go in. He had
+not yet reached that stage of the common fellowship
+game, where the drinking saloon has its attractions.
+Lamar went in alone, sat down at a table in the room
+to the rear of the bar, and over his glass of whiskey
+and soda he pondered the thing he had that day
+heard concerning Mary Bradley. Who was it who had
+crossed the bridge with her? Or was the story simply
+a vicious slander made up out of whole cloth? So
+faint and far away that at first he could barely grasp
+it, a suspicion arose. It took on form. It was shadowy
+and tenuous indeed. It faded out only to reappear.
+And, ever after, it followed him about, a ghost that he
+could not lay, and dared not challenge.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>It was a week after the conference that a letter came
+from the bishop of the diocese to the vestry of Christ
+Church. In it he deplored the quarrel that had arisen
+between certain of the vestrymen and the rector. He
+was grieved over the bitterness of spirit that had been<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_263"></a>[263]</span>
+displayed. He regretted that his godly judgment, exercised
+individually, both with the rector and his people,
+had not availed to settle the unhappy differences that
+were distracting the parish. He was pained beyond
+measure at the untoward result of the evening conference
+at the Tracy house. But since it seemed to be
+impossible for the parties to the controversy either
+themselves to adjust their differences or to accept such
+impartial advice as he had privately given them, he
+should not assume, alone and unaided, to decide the
+question of the forcible dissolution of the pastoral relation.
+He should ask the advice of the Standing Committee,
+as was his right under the canon. He should
+also consult with the chancellor of the diocese. And,
+proceeding with their aid and counsel, he would, in due
+time, render judgment on the matters in controversy.</p>
+
+<p>“In the meantime, brethren,” read his closing admonition,
+“let the spirit which was in Christ be in you
+all. Let not His religion be brought into disrepute by
+this unseemly quarrel; and let the integrity and dignity
+of the Church be maintained at all hazards.”</p>
+
+<p>But the good bishop said, confidentially, to a brother
+prelate: “Oh, that I could be a second Pilate, and take
+water and wash my hands before this accusing multitude,
+and say, ‘I am innocent of the blood of this just
+person, see ye to it.’”</p>
+
+<p>It was true that the bishop had intended to ask the
+advice of the Standing Committee, and to consult the
+chancellor of the diocese. Not that he expected to receive
+much disinterested aid from either source. For
+the chancellor was a well-known corporation lawyer
+whose skill and experience had for years been at the
+service of capital and of the ruling class. What his
+judgment would be in this matter could be readily foreseen.
+Nor was the prospect of receiving helpful advice
+from the Standing Committee much more encouraging.
+The presbyters of this committee were mostly rectors
+of churches controlled by rich and aristocratic members,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_264"></a>[264]</span>
+or churches under the patronage and domination
+of certain families of wealth; while the lay members
+were all of the conservative, substantial, anti-socialistic
+type. It required no prophetic power to discover with
+which party to the controversy they would be in
+sympathy.</p>
+
+<p>After considering the matter, the bishop felt that,
+after all, it might be better for him to decide the case
+unaided. But how to decide it; that was the question.
+If he should comply with the demand of the vestry,
+and dissolve the pastoral relation, he would not only be
+putting upon the Church the stigma of catering to the
+rich, and disregarding and driving out the poor, but he
+would also be humiliating and disgracing a man who,
+however mistaken he might be in his methods, had violated
+no ecclesiastical law, and who was conscientiously
+and earnestly striving to bring the religion of Jesus
+Christ home to the common people. On the other
+hand, were he to sustain the rector, it would mean
+giving serious offense to those important and wealthy
+parishioners who in the past had made Christ Church
+the strongest and most influential body in the diocese.
+And what then would happen? Undoubtedly the
+church would be left to its fate; and its fate could
+easily be foretold. For the bishop did not delude himself
+with the belief or hope that the class of people who
+had recently become attracted and attached to the rector,
+together with his old friends who still stood by
+him, would either be able or willing to support and
+maintain the customary activities of the church. Indeed,
+his wide experience and his worldly wisdom led
+him to a far different conclusion. So what was he to
+do? He decided that for the present he would do
+nothing. He would delay his decision in the hope—a
+forlorn hope, indeed—that the parties themselves would
+settle their controversy, or that, before the day of
+necessary action should come, a kind Providence would
+in some way relieve him of his embarrassment.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_265"></a>[265]</span></p>
+
+<p>The agreement between the Malleson Manufacturing
+Company and its employees was to expire on the first
+day of January. The men demanded a new agreement,
+and, under the leadership of Bricky Hoover, set about
+to obtain it. The new agreement, they declared, must
+provide for a schedule of wages which would show a
+ten per cent. advance. There must also be better pay
+for overtime, the discharge of all non-union employees,
+and full recognition of the union in all matters pertaining
+to the employment of labor. The men were sustained
+in their demand by the local unions to which
+they belonged, and their action was fully and formally
+approved by the central body. Of course the Malleson
+Company protested, and declined to accede to the demands.
+There were counter-propositions and conferences;
+but neither side would yield. The first day of
+January came and went. By tacit agreement work
+was continued, awaiting a settlement. But no settlement
+came. Day by day the situation grew more
+critical. Finally, at a mass-meeting of employees,
+peremptory instructions were given to the strike committee,
+in pursuance of which an ultimatum was issued
+to the company to the effect that unless within three
+days the demands of the men were complied with the
+strike order would go into effect. On the afternoon of
+the last day Richard Malleson called together his board
+of directors, and, after careful and serious consideration
+of the situation, they decided to yield. It was really
+the only thing to do. Of course there was a choice between
+two evils; on the one hand the practical wiping
+out of profits through increased wages and shorter
+hours, on the other the disaster that would come with
+and follow a long and costly strike. The president of
+the company advised his associates to choose the first
+horn of the dilemma, and they did so. But they chose
+it despairingly and resentfully, with bitterness in their
+hearts. The men, of course, were jubilant. They had
+obtained practically everything for which they had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_266"></a>[266]</span>
+asked. On one point only had they yielded. The
+seven non-union employees were permitted to remain.
+But, as an offset, a clause was inserted in the new
+agreement to the effect that no discrimination of any
+kind, at any time, should be made against any one on
+account of his affiliation with a union, nor on account
+of his participation in the controversy, nor on account—and
+this was emphasized—of his leadership in the
+successful fight for better conditions. So work did not
+cease, wages were advanced, hours were shortened, the
+rights of labor had been sustained, a long step had been
+taken toward the goal which the workingman has
+always in view. Steve Lamar and Bricky Hoover were
+the heroes of the hour. The first because he had so
+skilfully planned and directed the contest, the second
+because, as leader and spokesman, he had come out of
+every conference with flying colors, and by sheer persistence
+had brought Richard Malleson and his capitalistic
+partners to their knees.</p>
+
+<p>On the evening following the signing of the new
+wage-agreement the barroom of the Silver Star was
+crowded. It was still early, but there was barely
+standing room in the place. When Lamar and Hoover
+entered together a great shout went up. Every foaming
+glass was held high and clinked loudly, and
+drained to the bottom in their honor. These, indeed,
+were the men to free labor from its chains. Smilingly,
+deprecatingly as became them, they acknowledged the
+greeting and passed on into the inner room which had
+been the scene of so many of their conferences. When
+they were seated at a table, their glasses half-drained,
+the tips of their cigars glowing cheerily, Lamar looked
+at Bricky, smiled and said:</p>
+
+<p>“Well?”</p>
+
+<p>And Bricky smiled back and replied:</p>
+
+<p>“Well?”</p>
+
+<p>“So far so good,” said Lamar. “Now for the
+strike.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_267"></a>[267]</span></p>
+
+<p>“The what?” asked Bricky.</p>
+
+<p>“The strike.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, man, ain’t that just what we’ve got away
+from with whole hides?”</p>
+
+<p>“I wasn’t hell-bent on getting away from it, Bricky.
+Didn’t I tell you a month ago, in this very room, that
+there’d got to be a strike?”</p>
+
+<p>“Sure! But we’ve got what we wanted without it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Not yet we haven’t.”</p>
+
+<p>“What more do we want?”</p>
+
+<p>“We want to smash Dick Malleson.”</p>
+
+<p>Bricky pondered for a moment.</p>
+
+<p>“Ye didn’t fall far short o’ smashin’ him,” he said
+finally. “But how in heaven’s name will ye git a
+strike now?”</p>
+
+<p>Lamar took an equal length of time before replying.</p>
+
+<p>“Bricky,” he said at last, “you’ve got to be discharged.”</p>
+
+<p>“Me? Discharged? What for?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, anything. Neglect of duty. Impertinence.
+Sabotage. Can’t you see that you’re what the diplomats
+call <i lang="la">non persona grata</i> at capitalistic headquarters?
+You’ve put up a successful fight. You’re a union
+leader. You’re a warrior in the ranks of labor.
+Bricky, you’re an agitator, you’re a menace; you’ve
+got to go. Confound you, man! Can’t you see what
+I’m driving at?”</p>
+
+<p>Bricky was not so dull but that he saw. Yet he did
+not seem to be very favorably impressed with Lamar’s
+plan. He thought about it for a moment before answering.</p>
+
+<p>“So I’m to be made the goat, am I?” he said, at
+last.</p>
+
+<p>“You’re to be made the goat. That’s right. But
+you’ll feed high. Remember what I say: you’ll feed
+high.”</p>
+
+<p>Again Bricky pondered. Then he repeated Lamar’s
+words:</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_268"></a>[268]</span></p>
+
+<p>“‘Neglect of duty. Impertinence. Sabotage.’
+What the hell’s sabotage, Steve?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, creating a little incidental damage now and
+then. Monkeying with the machinery. Putting it out
+of commission. I don’t mean stupidly smashing it, you
+know. Just getting it out of order occasionally, in a
+way that it’ll take half a day to fix it up. You can do
+it all right. Keep it up. Spoil a piece of work once
+in a while. Be careless. Be damned careless. Of
+course they’ll bring you up for it. They’ll send you to
+the office. There’s where you can get in a nice line of
+impertinence. You’ll get your walking papers. The
+boys won’t stand for it. They won’t see you put upon.
+Not one of them. They’ll strike in less than twelve
+hours. I know what I’m talking about.”</p>
+
+<p>Still Bricky pondered. It was apparent that he was
+not enthusiastic over the proposition. He did not refuse
+it, but he wanted to think it over. It must have
+been a full minute before he looked up and inquired:</p>
+
+<p>“And where do you say I get off?”</p>
+
+<p>“At the corner of Greenback Avenue and Easy
+Street.”</p>
+
+<p>Bricky filled his glass again, drained it and set it
+down.</p>
+
+<p>“Steve,” he asked, “what you got agin old man
+Malleson anyhow? I should naturally s’pose that if
+you had anything in for anybody you’d have it in for
+the young cub.”</p>
+
+<p>Lamar tossed his head impatiently.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh,” he replied, “he counts for nothing. He’s
+simply a damned fool. It’s the old man that I’ve got
+a grudge against.”</p>
+
+<p>“What’s your grudge?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, for one thing, he sent John Bradley penniless
+to his grave. John was a friend of mine.”</p>
+
+<p>“So. But I don’t see as you’ve got any great kick
+comin’ there. John left a perty good-lookin’ widder,
+didn’t he?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_269"></a>[269]</span></p>
+
+<p>“What’s that got to do with it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Perty good friend o’ yourn, ain’t she?”</p>
+
+<p>“I hope so. What are you driving at?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, nothin’ much. Only if John was still on this
+earthly sp’ere your chances would be more limited,
+wouldn’t they?”</p>
+
+<p>Lamar laughed. “Perhaps so,” he said. “You’ve
+got a long head, Bricky.”</p>
+
+<p>“Sure, I’ve got a long head. I can put two an’ two
+together as well as the next man. The widder wants
+to smash Dick Malleson’s pocketbook. You want to
+smash the widder’s heart. I ain’t blamin’ either of ye.
+Ye’ve both got plenty of aggravation. So you want
+my help, do you, Steve?”</p>
+
+<p>“I want your help.”</p>
+
+<p>“An’ you’re willin’ to pay for it?”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll pay you well.”</p>
+
+<p>“All right! Let’s git down to brass tacks. Push
+that button, will ye? I’m dry.”</p>
+
+<p>Lamar pushed the button. More liquid cheer was
+brought in. After that the conference was still more
+confidential. At the end of twenty minutes they rose,
+clinked their glasses, drank to each other’s success, and
+left the place.</p>
+
+<p>Stephen Lamar went straight from the Silver Star
+saloon to the home of Mary Bradley on Factory Hill.</p>
+
+<p>“I beg to report,” he said to her, “that your orders
+concerning Richard Malleson are in process of execution.”</p>
+
+<p>“What have you done to him?” she asked.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ve compelled him to sign a new agreement to
+avoid a strike.”</p>
+
+<p>“I know you have. You’ve given him a chance to
+save himself when you might have crushed him.”</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t be too fast. I know what I’m about. The
+new agreement will hurt him more than two strikes
+would.”</p>
+
+<p>“How do you make that out?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_270"></a>[270]</span></p>
+
+<p>“He can’t afford to pay the scale. It’s ruinous. It
+eats up all profits. I know. I have it straight from
+his own office.”</p>
+
+<p>“But it doesn’t wreck him. I want him wrecked.
+He’ll meet the scale by raising the price of his product.”</p>
+
+<p>“He can’t. Competition’s too keen. He’s not in
+the trust.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, he’ll meet the situation somehow. He’s got a
+long head. You should have had the strike. You’ve
+made a mistake.”</p>
+
+<p>Lamar laughed. “You’re too impatient,” he said.
+“You don’t see the end of the plot. There’s going to
+be a strike.”</p>
+
+<p>“Who says so?”</p>
+
+<p>“I do.”</p>
+
+<p>“Haven’t the men just signed a new wage-scale?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, but there’s going to be a strike just the same.”</p>
+
+<p>“On what ground?”</p>
+
+<p>“Bricky Hoover’s going to be discharged.”</p>
+
+<p>“How do you know that?”</p>
+
+<p>“Never mind how I know it. I know it. Bricky’s
+going to be discharged. He’s an infernal agitator.
+He’s the idol of the men. They won’t see him punished.
+There’ll be a strike within twenty-four hours
+after he gets his papers. You wait and see.”</p>
+
+<p>For a minute she sat quietly, turning the matter over
+in her mind. Then she looked up at him.</p>
+
+<p>“Steve,” she said, “you’re a wonder.” His scheme
+had become clear to her.</p>
+
+<p>“I can do a good deal,” he replied, “when there’s
+the right inducement. In this case you’re the inducement.”</p>
+
+<p>She paid little heed to his remark. She was again
+thinking. At last she asked, as if to assure herself of
+the fact:</p>
+
+<p>“You say the new wage-scale is ruinous?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I know it. It carries him more than half-way
+to financial destruction.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_271"></a>[271]</span></p>
+
+<p>“And on top of that you propose to precipitate a
+strike?”</p>
+
+<p>“Exactly. That will be the final twist of the rope.”</p>
+
+<p>“Good! You’re doing bravely. Keep it up. You
+have my sympathy and congratulations.”</p>
+
+<p>“Thank you, Mary. But I want more than sympathy
+and congratulations.”</p>
+
+<p>“What do you want? You know I have no money.”</p>
+
+<p>“Money be damned! I want my reward.”</p>
+
+<p>“What reward?”</p>
+
+<p>“You know well enough. You said that when I
+had Richard Malleson smashed I should have a man’s
+reward. I want a foretaste of it to-night. I’ve earned
+it.”</p>
+
+<p>“And what is a man’s reward?”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s a woman’s love. There’s nothing else under
+heaven that’s worth working for or fighting for.”</p>
+
+<p>There was no doubt that he meant what he said.
+The look in his eyes, the flush on his face, the big
+shoulders bent toward her, all proved it. She, herself,
+knew that to obtain some manifestation of love from
+her he would be willing to fight all the powers of
+earth and air. But her countenance did not change by
+so much as the dropping of an eyelid. She looked at
+him unflinchingly.</p>
+
+<p>“I understand you,” she said. “You want me to
+say that I love you.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. And not only to say it, but to prove it.”</p>
+
+<p>Still she was calm, deliberate.</p>
+
+<p>“Let me see,” she asked; “you have a wife?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, but she’s nothing to me.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why not?”</p>
+
+<p>“Because there’s no love between us. Marriage without
+love is legal debasement. Love without marriage
+may reach the supreme height of human happiness.”</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly she appeared to grow interested. Her
+cheeks flushed and her eyes shone. He thought she
+was seeing something of his vision.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_272"></a>[272]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Do you think,” she asked, “that a married man
+has a moral right to love a woman who is not his
+wife?”</p>
+
+<p>“Undoubtedly, when the woman who is his wife has
+ceased to care for him. The marriage contract is binding
+in conscience, and should be in law, only so long as
+love lasts between the parties to it. You are a socialist.
+You know what our doctrine is. In the coming socialist
+commonwealth there will be no permanent marriage
+bond. It will be a bond that can be dissolved at will.
+It will accommodate itself to the happiness of those
+affected by it. That’s the doctrine of Marx and Bebel
+and Belfort Bax. Then a man will be legally as well
+as morally free to put off a dead love and take on a
+living one. It’s a living love that, with your help, I
+shall take on to-night.”</p>
+
+<p>She appeared to drink in his words.</p>
+
+<p>“And what about the woman?” she asked; “the
+woman who loves a married man? Has she a right
+to do that? Has she a right, if the time should be
+opportune, to tell him so?”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s the right of every woman to seek happiness
+where she can find it; to ask for it if she will; it’s her
+duty to take it when it’s offered to her, as I offer it to
+you to-night.”</p>
+
+<p>“And, Steve, if a man’s wife is nothing to him, if
+she has no sympathy with him, if she’s a millstone
+about his neck, and he can have the love of another
+woman who is fond of him, oh, passionately fond of
+him, do you think it would be wrong for either of them
+to give himself to—to give herself unreservedly to the
+other? Do you, Steve? Do you?”</p>
+
+<p>She was leaning toward him, eager, excited, her eyes
+glowing, her lips parted, her white teeth gleaming, her
+breast heaving with emotion. To the man who craved
+her she was wildly fascinating. He had never before
+seen her when she so appealed to every atom of his
+nature. Drawn irresistibly, he moved closer to her.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_273"></a>[273]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Wrong?” he exclaimed. “Nothing under heaven
+would be more just. What are laws in the face of a
+passion like ours? In the new socialistic state there
+will be no such laws. And whatever would be right
+and of good conscience then is right and of good conscience
+now, in spite of all the capitalistic laws that
+were ever invented to oppress humanity.”</p>
+
+<p>He moved still closer to her, and took up her hand
+which was hanging loosely at her side, and held it and
+caressed it. She made no remonstrance; she did not
+appear to notice what he was doing. It was plain to
+him that this woman who had held him in check and
+at bay for months was at last ready to yield to his
+importunities.</p>
+
+<p>“That would be heavenly,” she said, and she seemed
+to be talking to herself rather than to him, “heavenly!
+But we would need to hide it; we would have to keep
+it secret—for a time.”</p>
+
+<p>His face was so close to hers that she might have felt
+his breath upon her cheek.</p>
+
+<p>“No, dear,” he answered her, “we do not need to hide
+it. People who know us and believe in us, and for
+whose opinions we care, will not criticize us; all others
+may do so to their heart’s content. It will not matter
+to us; we shall be supremely happy in spite of them.”</p>
+
+<p>He passed his arm around her shoulders and drew
+her face against his.</p>
+
+<p>Then, suddenly, she awoke. She threw his arm
+from her as if it had been a serpent coiled about her
+body. She wrenched herself free from him, and sprang
+to her feet. In the excitement her chair was overturned
+and fell with a crash to the floor. The door leading
+from the kitchen was pushed open from without, and
+an old woman, with frightened eyes, looked in.</p>
+
+<p>“What’s the matter, Mary?” she asked.</p>
+
+<p>“Nothing, mother. Everything’s all right; come in.”</p>
+
+<p>Lamar picked up the chair, and stood with flushed
+and scowling face.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_274"></a>[274]</span></p>
+
+<p>“What was all the noise about?” asked the old
+woman.</p>
+
+<p>“Why, Steve was just going, and he accidentally
+tipped over his chair getting up, that’s all. You
+needn’t go back into the kitchen, mother. Steve isn’t
+going to stay any longer.”</p>
+
+<p>The man’s scowl deepened. “But there’s more I
+want to say to you,” he said, “and I want to say it to
+you alone.”</p>
+
+<p>“Not to-night, Steve. Some other time, perhaps. I
+want to think over what you’ve already told me.
+You’ve given me some wonderful ideas, some heavenly
+hopes. I want to think them over.”</p>
+
+<p>“And I want my reward. I’ve earned it. I insist
+on having it.”</p>
+
+<p>She laughed. “Steve’s joking, mother,” she said.
+She faced him jauntily. “Not to-night, comrade.
+Wait till the wreck is more complete. Wait till the
+socialist commonwealth is more nearly established.
+Oh, you shall have it; in due time you shall have it—a
+man’s reward.”</p>
+
+<p>She smiled up into his face as winsomely, as charmingly,
+as modestly, as a young girl would smile into
+her first lover’s face on the eve of her betrothal.</p>
+
+<p>“Good-night, Steve,” she added, “and my thanks to
+you, and good luck to you. Keep on. Revenge is
+sweet. But remember: there’s a thing that’s sweeter
+than revenge.”</p>
+
+<p>She helped him into his overcoat as she talked, gave
+him his cap, went with him to the door, and closed it
+behind him as he passed out. When he was gone the
+old woman said to her:</p>
+
+<p>“Mary, I don’t like the look o’ things.”</p>
+
+<p>“There’s nothing to worry about, mother.”</p>
+
+<p>“But I don’t like the look o’ things,” she repeated.
+“That man ain’t safe. I wish he wouldn’t come here
+any more.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, he’s as harmless as a baby.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_275"></a>[275]</span></p>
+
+<p>“He ain’t. He’s dangerous. I see it in his eyes.
+He’ll kill you some day; I know he will.”</p>
+
+<p>Mary Bradley laughed, and put her arm around the
+old woman’s waist, and kissed her wrinkled face.</p>
+
+<p>“You dear old fool!” she said. “Neither Crœsus
+nor the king could induce him to hurt me by so much
+as a pin-prick. I can twist him round my little finger
+every hour in the day.”</p>
+
+<p>“Do you love him, Mary?”</p>
+
+<p>“Let me tell you, mother. For what he has told me
+to-night, for the hope he has given me, for the promise
+of pure joy he has set before me, I adore him.”</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_276"></a>[276]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI<br>
+<small>“THE DARKNESS DEEPENS”</small></h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>There was no abatement in the vigor with which
+the rector of Christ Church attacked the sins of capitalism,
+the curse of wage-slavery, the glaring inequalities
+of the existing social order. In the pulpit, on the platform,
+to the man in the street, anywhere, everywhere,
+in season and out of season, he preached his new
+gospel of the brotherhood of man. But he did not call
+it a new gospel. He called it the old gospel, proclaimed
+by Jesus Christ as the one foundation on which
+all human character and conduct must be built. He
+was acclaimed by the toiler, and cursed by the capitalist.
+His fame spread beyond the borders of his city and
+his state. The newspapers reported his sermons and
+speeches as matters of interest to the general public.
+Soap-box orators quoted him with approval. Socialists
+regarded him as one of their own kind; not quite, but
+almost persuaded to an acceptance of all their tenets
+and beliefs. There were some things in the socialistic
+creed to which he could not yet subscribe. He had
+little sympathy with the purely materialistic conception
+of the cause and basis of either happiness or misery in
+this life. He believed, with his Lord, that “The life is
+more than meat, and the body more than raiment.”</p>
+
+<p>He could not concede the right of men and women
+to free themselves from a marriage bond which has
+become burdensome save for the one cause set down in
+Holy Scripture.</p>
+
+<p>He could not quite assent to the doctrine that confiscation
+of private property by the state, beyond the
+customary exercise of the right of eminent domain, in<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_277"></a>[277]</span>
+order that it might be administered for the economic
+betterment of all, was either politically wise or ethically
+correct.</p>
+
+<p>Certainly he was not ready to participate in a sudden
+and violent overturning of the existing social order for
+the purpose of hastening the coming of the social
+commonwealth.</p>
+
+<p>But he was absorbed in the idea of, and immersed in
+the plans for alleviating the hardships of the poor. He
+looked to and labored for such a rearrangement of the
+social order, that all men who toiled, either with hand
+or brain, should share alike in the largess of the fruitful
+earth, and in the material bounty of God.</p>
+
+<p>It was his aim so to instil the religion of Christ into
+the hearts of the classes that ultimately there would be
+no classes, no swollen fortunes, no dire poverty, no
+social distinctions, but that all men would dwell together
+in Christian fellowship as did the brethren of
+the early Church.</p>
+
+<p>And it was his desire and ambition that this plan of
+Christian living should have its foremost modern exemplification
+in the parish of Christ Church.</p>
+
+<p>In his night interview with the bishop he had stated
+his position with such cogent reasoning, with such
+eloquent appeal, that that dignitary of the Church was
+not prepared to confound his argument or to suppress
+his enthusiasm either by episcopal wisdom or by
+fatherly remonstrance. Moreover he taught nothing
+in contravention of the doctrines of the Church. He
+preached no gospel that had not been preached by the
+Carpenter of Nazareth among the hills of Galilee, on
+the shores of Gennesareth, or in the shadow of the
+temple at Jerusalem. No wonder the bishop could not
+decide which horn of the dilemma to take concerning
+the matter in controversy. No wonder the protesting
+parishioners became impatient at his delay. Many of
+them, indeed, grew discouraged and then indifferent.
+Some of them severed their connection with the parish<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_278"></a>[278]</span>
+absolutely and attached themselves to St. Timothy’s
+up-town. Others absented themselves entirely from
+divine service, or became occasional attendants at other
+Protestant churches in the city. The prominent and
+pompous woman who had threatened to go over to the
+Church of Rome carried out her threat. She felt that
+now she ran no farther risk of contamination, that she
+was where socialism is practically, if not officially,
+anathema.</p>
+
+<p>But there was no diminution in the attendance at the
+services of Christ Church. As familiar faces disappeared
+from the pews new ones, stamped with the
+insignia of toil, took their places. No magnet ever drew
+to itself the filings of steel with surer power than this
+magnetic preacher drew to himself the human filings
+from the social mass.</p>
+
+<p>But the institutional life of the church suffered. As
+the old workers, displeased or disheartened, or unduly
+influenced, forsook their tasks, it was with extreme
+difficulty that others were found with sufficient zeal
+and adaptability and religious culture to fill their
+places. Indeed, many places remained wholly unfilled,
+and the rector and his curate were obliged to do double
+duty by taking up the neglected work and doing it as
+best they could. Funds for these church activities
+were also lacking. Many of the rich and the well-to-do
+who had contributed liberally in the past were
+now giving niggardly sums, or were withholding their
+contributions altogether. And in the absence of both
+workers and money it was not strange that the work
+itself should languish.</p>
+
+<p>But the rector was not discouraged. He felt that
+the tide would eventually turn; that God would not
+permit the institutions of His Church permanently to
+suffer, nor His poor always to go uncared for. And
+who could say that it was not His plan to bring
+“trouble and distress” upon His people in order to
+make more emphatic the ushering in of that new social<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_279"></a>[279]</span>
+régime in which poverty and trouble and distress could
+never gain a foothold.</p>
+
+<p>It was not only the guilds of the church that suffered
+for lack of money; the church itself was deplorably
+short of funds. Receipts from pew rents had fallen off
+sadly. Pewholders, reminded of their obligations, replied
+that those obligations were conditioned on the
+preaching of the gospel of Jesus Christ, and not the
+gospel of Karl Marx, from the pulpit of Christ Church.
+The alms-basins which in the old days had been presented
+at the altar heaped with the bank bills placed
+thereon by the wealthy and the well-to-do, came now,
+sparsely lined instead, with the nickels and the pennies
+of the poor. And while widows’ mites might be
+gloriously acceptable in the eyes of God, it needed
+vastly more of them than were received to carry on
+successfully the activities of Christ Church. The Episcopal
+and Convention Fund assessment was hopelessly
+in arrears; so was the missionary allotment; even the
+rector’s salary was in jeopardy by reason of the lack of
+funds. When that salary was paid to him he found it
+necessary to use a good part of it to relieve cases of
+destitution, and to meet other emergencies which could
+not, in these days, otherwise be met. But he did not
+complain. He simply set about to see what he could
+personally do without, and he admonished his wife that
+the cost of living at the rectory would need to be reduced.
+On the following Sunday, after reading the
+announcements, he called the attention of the congregation
+to the fact that, owing to the withdrawal of
+financial support by many members of the parish, the
+funds of the church, available for carrying on its work,
+had been exhausted, and the treasury was facing a serious
+deficit. He therefore appealed to all attendants on
+the services, and to all those interested in supporting
+the activities and maintaining the dignity of Christ
+Church, to be liberal in their contributions, that the
+Lord’s work might be unhampered and undiminished.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_280"></a>[280]</span>
+From a few there came an immediate response to his
+appeal. But many heard it with indifference, or else
+doled out grudgingly a few more pennies. One hard-handed
+toiler, as he shuffled down the aisle at the close
+of the service, was heard to say:</p>
+
+<p>“I t’ought religion was free. If I got to pay money
+for it like I do for beer, w’y I guess I can git along
+wit’out it.”</p>
+
+<p>There were many more, not so outspoken, across
+whose minds trickled the same thought. It is strange
+how the ardor of men in any cause, not even excepting
+the cause of religion, will become suddenly dampened
+by an appeal to them to support it by liberal contributions
+of money.</p>
+
+<p>Of those who had espoused the cause of the rector
+from the start, the ranks were practically unbroken.
+Those who believed in him and adhered to him were
+still faithful, and devoted to the carrying out of his
+purpose. Yet some among them, especially men of experience
+and business training, began to be doubtful of
+the outcome. More than one of them, watching the
+course of events, noting the depletion of funds and the
+circumscribing of activities, expressed frankly to the
+rector their fears for the future. He made light of
+their doubts and urged them to still greater zeal. He
+assured them that the battle would eventually be won,
+that the principles of the Christian religion were at
+stake, and that God would not permit the integrity of
+His Church to be successfully assailed, nor the upholders
+of His gospel to go down to defeat. So he inspired
+them anew, and the fight went on.</p>
+
+<p>But no person in the entire parish kept in closer touch
+with the situation, or was better informed concerning
+the progress of events, than was Mary Bradley. She
+exhausted all possible sources of information to keep
+herself conversant with conditions. Passionately desirous
+of seeing the rector of Christ Church win his
+battle for social righteousness, she knew, nevertheless,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_281"></a>[281]</span>
+that he was waging a losing fight, and that he had already
+reached the point where capitulation was necessary,
+if he would save himself. She had said as much
+to Barry Malleson weeks ago. She longed to say it
+now to the rector himself. She could as little bear to
+see him go on, unwittingly, to sure destruction, as she
+could bear to see him yield the splendid position he had
+taken in behalf of humble humanity.</p>
+
+<p>When Barry came in one day he told her he had
+heard that the vestry was about to curtail the rector’s
+salary, or to refuse payment of it altogether, on the
+ground that he had violated his contract with the parish
+by engaging in activities antagonistic to the Church
+and to the Christian religion.</p>
+
+<p>“Barry,” she said, “I want you to go with me to the
+rectory.”</p>
+
+<p>He looked up inquiringly.</p>
+
+<p>“What—what for?” he asked.</p>
+
+<p>“I want to tell that man to call quits, and save his
+life,” she replied. “If he doesn’t, they’ll murder him.”</p>
+
+<p>Barry stared at her in astonishment.</p>
+
+<p>“Why,” he stammered, “it—it isn’t as bad as that.”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s just the same as murder,” she said. “They’re
+taking the clothes off his back, the bread out of his
+mouth, the heart that strengthens and glorifies him out
+of his body. Come!”</p>
+
+<p>She had already put on her hat and coat, and was
+drawing on her gloves. Barry followed her in blind
+obedience. Why she had asked him to go with her he
+did not stop to inquire. It was enough that she wished
+it. He would have followed her, at her bidding, to the
+end of the world. But she knew why she had asked
+him. In these crucial days the rector’s name must be
+kept above the slightest taint of suspicion. Therefore
+Mary Bradley must not go alone to visit him. And
+Barry Malleson was the only person on earth whom
+she would be willing to have hear her message, save
+the person to whom she should speak it. For Barry<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_282"></a>[282]</span>
+was absolutely faithful, honorable and simple-minded.
+So, together, they went out and walked up the street
+in the mild sunlight of the January day, paying little
+heed to the glances cast at them, ignorant of the comments
+that their appearance in each other’s company
+aroused; comments wise and foolish, grave and gay,
+scandalous and laudatory, according to the cleanness of
+heart and clearness of vision of those who made them.</p>
+
+<p>Some one, mischievously inclined, entering a department
+store, saw Jane Chichester sitting at a counter,
+and said: “Jane, the king of comedy and the queen of
+fallacy are passing by.”</p>
+
+<p>“What’s that?” asked Miss Chichester.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, Barry Malleson and Mrs. Bradley just went up
+the sidewalk together.”</p>
+
+<p>“The idea!” exclaimed Miss Chichester. And with
+nervous fingers she thrust her change into her purse
+and her purchases into her shopping-bag, and hurried
+to the street. Sure enough, just turning the next
+corner, she saw them—and she followed after them.
+When she too reached the corner they were half-way
+down the block on the side street, and at the next
+crossing they turned and went over toward the rectory
+of Christ Church. Miss Chichester saw them pass up
+the walk, mount the steps, and enter the house. A
+wave of mad jealousy swept into her heart; an unreasoning
+fear settled down upon her. What did it
+mean? Why did they appear to be so absorbed in
+each other? Why were they seeking the rector of
+Christ Church? Had there been some sudden resolve
+upon matrimony? some sudden decision to have the
+marriage service performed before any restraining influence
+or actual force could be exerted by Barry’s
+family?</p>
+
+<p>So Miss Chichester, too, crossed the street, went up
+the rectory steps, rang the bell and was admitted to the
+house.</p>
+
+<p>Barry and Mrs. Bradley were in the study with the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_283"></a>[283]</span>
+minister. A maid announced that Miss Chichester was
+in the drawing-room and desired to see Mr. Farrar at
+once.</p>
+
+<p>“Say to her that I will soon be at liberty,” said the
+rector.</p>
+
+<p>“We shall keep you but a few minutes,” declared
+Mrs. Bradley.</p>
+
+<p>But Barry looked up with startled eyes and exclaimed:</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I’m sure Jane is in no haste. It’s—nothing
+important. She needn’t wait. Let her come back
+later.”</p>
+
+<p>But the maid had already disappeared, and Mr. Farrar
+made no effort to modify the message sent to his
+waiting guest.</p>
+
+<p>“What I came for,” said Mrs. Bradley, “is to tell
+you that in my judgment the time has come for you to
+drop your fight against the opposing forces in your
+church, and make terms with your vestry.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mrs. Bradley! Why do you come to me with that
+message? You have been one of my most valiant supporters.”</p>
+
+<p>“Because they are going to crush you unless you
+yield. Your church is already on the way to destruction.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s treason, Mrs. Bradley. Have you changed
+your opinion about the righteousness of my cause?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not in the slightest degree.”</p>
+
+<p>“And do you think then that God will permit unrighteousness
+to prevail?”</p>
+
+<p>“I know little about God’s purposes. I only know
+what power these men have to destroy you, and I know
+they are going to use their power without mercy.”</p>
+
+<p>Barry broke in. “That’s right, Farrar,” he said.
+“Phil and Boston and the rest of them have got you in
+their grip. I heard to-day that they’re going to choke
+off your salary. That’s where the shoe will pinch. So
+Mary and I have decided that you’d better call the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_284"></a>[284]</span>
+whole thing off, and get back into harness as it
+were.”</p>
+
+<p>“Let me understand you,” said the rector. “It is
+not because either of you think that I am in the wrong
+that you advocate surrender?”</p>
+
+<p>“No,” came the answer in unison.</p>
+
+<p>“But because you believe it to be expedient?”</p>
+
+<p>“Exactly,” replied Barry. But Mrs. Bradley added:</p>
+
+<p>“I am thinking of your family.”</p>
+
+<p>“I, too, have thought of my family,” came the response.
+“We are all in God’s hands. I have no doubt,
+if the worst should come to the worst, He will point
+out to me a way to provide for them.”</p>
+
+<p>“And I am thinking also of your career,” she
+added.</p>
+
+<p>“A career,” he said, “built upon the suppression of
+honest thought, and made successful by fawning upon
+the rich while the poor are crying out for social, spiritual
+and material bread, would be a most inglorious
+and unhallowed thing.”</p>
+
+<p>Then she spoke more bluntly.</p>
+
+<p>“You are too visionary,” she said. “You are too
+spiritual, too religious and high-minded to cope with
+the crowd that is hunting you. They have planned
+your destruction, and they are going to accomplish it.
+There isn’t any God anywhere who can save you.
+You’ve got to save yourself or you’ll perish. I know
+it. I had to tell you this. I wouldn’t be human if I
+kept it to myself.”</p>
+
+<p>He did not reprove her or try to reason with her.
+The argumentative stage in the struggle had long
+passed by. But he was equally blunt and insistent in
+his answer.</p>
+
+<p>“Mrs. Bradley,” he said, “if I were sure that my
+crusade would bring me to the debtor’s prison or the
+hangman’s rope, I would not abate one jot or tittle
+from my effort. My reason and my conscience have
+convinced me that I am right; and my duty to God<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_285"></a>[285]</span>
+and myself and my fellow-men impels me irresistibly
+forward.”</p>
+
+<p>He said it with such intensity of expression, both of
+looks and voice, that Barry, easily moved as he always
+was, half rose from his chair, and brought his hands
+together with a resounding whack.</p>
+
+<p>“That’s the stuff!” he exclaimed. “Farrar, you’re
+game to the backbone! I’m with you, old man; count
+on me!” Then his eyes fell upon Mrs. Bradley, and
+he began to apologize. “Pardon me, Mary! I didn’t
+think. You don’t want him to stick it out, do you?”</p>
+
+<p>She did not answer him at once. Her eyes were
+moist, and her lip was trembling. When she did speak
+she said:</p>
+
+<p>“You don’t need to apologize, Barry. You’ve
+spoken for me.”</p>
+
+<p>She rose and held out her hand to the minister in
+farewell. “I have done my errand,” she said. “I
+came on it sincerely and earnestly and with a good
+conscience, and—I thank God it has failed.”</p>
+
+<p>It was not an expression of piety, for she was not
+pious; but no other words, in that moment, could have
+embodied her thought. She turned toward the door.</p>
+
+<p>“Come, Barry,” she said, “we’ll go now.”</p>
+
+<p>But Barry, suddenly remembering the waiting guest
+in the drawing-room, replied:</p>
+
+<p>“Why, I—I think I’ll stay here in Farrar’s study for
+a while. I—he’s got some books here I want to look
+at.”</p>
+
+<p>“No, Barry. I want you with me. I want you to
+go to the street with me, and walk back with me to my
+office.”</p>
+
+<p>This time he did not demur. He saw that she was
+in earnest. He knew that she had some good reason
+for wishing him to go, and he went.</p>
+
+<p>As they passed down the hall they met Jane Chichester
+at the door of the drawing-room. Her cheeks
+were scarlet and her eyes were wild.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_286"></a>[286]</span></p>
+
+<p>“What does this mean?” she exclaimed. “Barry
+Malleson, what have you been doing?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why,” stammered Barry, “I—we—we’ve been
+calling on the rector.”</p>
+
+<p>“What for?” she demanded.</p>
+
+<p>“Is it necessary,” asked Mary Bradley, quietly,
+“that you should know?”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ve a right to know,” she replied. “I’ve a right to
+protect this man. You’ve bewitched him and deceived
+him till he doesn’t know his own mind. Mr. Farrar!”
+she cried, “what has happened here? I must know!
+I will know!”</p>
+
+<p>The rector, standing in the doorway of his study,
+had looked on amazed at this spectacle of insane jealousy.
+He realized, suddenly, that he must take control
+of the situation.</p>
+
+<p>“Jane Chichester,” he said, “come into my study at
+once.” He spoke quietly, but with a voice and manner
+that compelled obedience to his command. And Jane
+Chichester went, but she went in a storm of tears, a
+woman’s last and most effective weapon of defense.</p>
+
+<p>The siege being thus raised, Mrs. Bradley and her
+escort left the house, descended the steps, and passed
+down the walk to the street. There Barry paused long
+enough to bare his head to the winter air, and mop the
+perspiration from his brow.</p>
+
+<p>“Barry,” said Mrs. Bradley, “you’re a lucky man.
+I congratulate you.”</p>
+
+<p>“It was,” panted Barry, “a devilish narrow escape.”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t mean that. You’re not married to the
+woman, are you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Good Lord, no!”</p>
+
+<p>“Nor engaged to her?”</p>
+
+<p>“Heaven forbid!”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, a man who is capable of arousing such insane
+jealousy as that in the breast of a woman to whom he
+is neither married nor engaged is one among ten thousand.
+I beg that you’ll not lose your head over it.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_287"></a>[287]</span></p>
+
+<p>“My head,” replied Barry, “is safe enough, but
+about one more adventure like that would send my
+mind to the scrap-heap.”</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>On a certain day, late in January, Bricky Hoover was
+peremptorily dismissed from the employ of the Malleson
+Manufacturing Company. It was charged against
+him that he had been guilty of gross negligence, of
+sabotage, of impertinence to the manager of the mills.
+But all of his fellow-employees knew, indeed all of
+the wage-workers in the city knew that the real reason
+for his dismissal was that he had been too aggressive in
+behalf of union labor, and that his aggressiveness and
+persistency had resulted in a victory for the men. He
+was the first to go because he had been the most prominent.
+Others would follow; there was little doubt of
+that. It was apparent that the company had started in
+on a policy of weeding out agitators and strike-promoters.
+The only question was who would be the next one to
+be dismissed. Feeling among the men ran high. Sympathy
+with the discharged employee was general among
+the laboring classes. Resentment over the manner in
+which he had been thrust out was deep and wide-spread.
+Would union labor stand for it? Of course union
+labor would not.</p>
+
+<p>The discharge was on Friday. On the afternoon of
+the following Sunday a mass-meeting of the Malleson
+employees was held at Carpenter’s Hall, and, with
+scarcely a dissenting vote, a resolution was adopted to
+the effect that if Thomas Hoover was not reinstated in
+his position, without condition, within twenty-four
+hours from the time of presenting the resolution to the
+officers of the company, there would be a walk-out of
+every workman employed in the mills.</p>
+
+<p>The committee in charge of the resolution presented
+it to the president of the company at his office on Monday
+morning. He called the attention of his visitors
+to the fact that his employees had recently signed a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_288"></a>[288]</span>
+contract, agreeing to remain in the employ of the company
+for one year. They replied that the agreement
+also contained a clause to the effect that no one should
+be discriminated against on account of any part he had
+taken in procuring the new wage-scale, or by reason of
+his affiliation with union labor.</p>
+
+<p>It was in vain that the president endeavored to convince
+them that Hoover’s discharge was due solely to
+his reprehensible personal conduct. They would not
+be convinced. He called the manager of the mills and
+the foreman of the shop in which Hoover had worked
+as his witnesses. The committee saw in this only a
+carefully worked out plan to betray the men whom the
+company feared, and throttle union labor. They would
+have no excuses, no subterfuges, they would listen to
+no argument. Their demand was clear and imperative;
+it must be answered by a categorical yes or no. The
+president asked for a week within which he might sift
+the evidence, and consider the demand. They replied
+that they had no discretionary power; that if the demand
+was not complied with by noon of the following
+day every laborer in the company’s employ would quit
+his job and stay out until Hoover was reinstated. This
+was their ultimatum.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Malleson dismissed the committee with a wave
+of his hand. He had nothing further to say to them.
+But his jaws were set, and his eyes were like steel.</p>
+
+<p>In the afternoon he called the members of his board
+together and presented the situation to them. It was
+plainly apparent to all of them that Hoover’s conduct,
+leading to his dismissal, was but part of a plan to force
+a strike, with or without cause, at the Malleson mills.
+What ulterior purpose lay back of it all they could not
+understand. It was clear that the men were being led,
+by designing persons, to their own destruction. But
+for whose benefit? That was the mystery of it. And
+what was to be done? If Hoover were to be reinstated
+now doubtless a similar situation would be<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_289"></a>[289]</span>
+created within a week. It might be better to meet the
+issue squarely, and settle the matter once for all. Of
+course a fight would spell disaster; but, if the men
+were bound to strike, they might as well strike now
+and have done with it. The whole thing was so
+absurd, so unreasonable, so outrageously unjust, that
+the sooner it was disposed of the better.</p>
+
+<p>Barry Malleson, sitting at the directors’ table, had
+heard the discussion thus far without comment. His
+suggestions at the meetings of the board had, theretofore,
+been given such scant consideration that he had
+grown tired of making them. But he raised his voice
+now in mild protest at what was plainly the belligerent
+attitude of his fellow-members.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, say,” he inquired, “can’t this thing be fixed up
+somehow? Why not take Bricky back? What harm
+would it do? I know the fellow personally. He’s
+not at all a bad sort.”</p>
+
+<p>The president of the company turned his head away
+in ill-concealed disgust; but Philip Westgate, sitting at
+a corner of the table, seemed to find Barry’s comment
+of interest and began to cross-question him.</p>
+
+<p>“Has any one requested you,” he asked, “to intercede
+for Hoover?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not a soul,” replied Barry. “I’m doing it on my
+own responsibility.”</p>
+
+<p>“You say you are personally acquainted with the
+man; do you happen to know whether he is on terms
+of particular friendship with Stephen Lamar?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, yes. I’ve seen them together a good deal.
+They both belong to the Socialist League in which I
+myself am somewhat interested.”</p>
+
+<p>The president of the Malleson Manufacturing Company
+turned his head still farther away, and a look of
+deeper disgust spread over his usually immobile face.</p>
+
+<p>“And the secretary of that League,” continued
+Westgate, “is the woman known as Mary Bradley?”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s her name, yes.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_290"></a>[290]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Lamar is in love with her, isn’t he?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know, Phil, but I shouldn’t be a bit surprised
+if he was. I’m in love with her myself.”</p>
+
+<p>Westgate turned to the board.</p>
+
+<p>“Gentlemen,” he said, “I think I can solve the mystery.”</p>
+
+<p>But before he had an opportunity to explain, Richard
+Malleson swung around in his office chair and confronted
+his son. His face was scarlet, and his eyes
+shot fire.</p>
+
+<p>“How dare you,” he exclaimed, “in a company of
+gentlemen, boast openly of your disgraceful relation
+with this notorious woman! I’ll not permit it!”</p>
+
+<p>Barry’s eyes opened wide with surprise. He was
+not angry. Nothing ever angered him. But he appeared
+to be deeply grieved.</p>
+
+<p>“Why, father,” he began, “Mrs. Bradley is a
+genuinely good woman——”</p>
+
+<p>But his father, in a rage now, interrupted him.</p>
+
+<p>“Not a word!” he cried. “I’ll not listen to you.
+I’ll not permit you to sit on this board. If you don’t
+leave the room at once, I’ll adjourn this meeting.”</p>
+
+<p>The gentlemen who sat at the directors’ table gazed
+fearfully from father to son and held their tongues.
+It was not their quarrel.</p>
+
+<p>Barry rose slowly from his chair, looking at his
+father with wide and inquiring eyes. He did not seem
+quite to understand it all, except that he had been
+ordered to leave the room.</p>
+
+<p>“All right, father,” he said; “I’ll go. I’ll go.”</p>
+
+<p>He crossed uncertainly to the door, turned and
+looked back for a moment, in apparent wonder, at the
+astonished and apprehensive faces of the silent group,
+and then went out. He got his hat and coat and put
+them on, and walked straight to the headquarters of
+the Socialist League in the Potter Building.</p>
+
+<p>After he had left the room Westgate explained to
+the board his theory of the threatened strike. He had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_291"></a>[291]</span>
+heard that Mary Bradley had declared, in court, at the
+termination of her unsuccessful suit, that she would
+have revenge. She was having it, that was all.
+Shrewd, persistent, resourceful, she was using Lamar
+to turn labor loose on Richard Malleson and his company.
+And what, then, could be done? If Barry only
+had brains, thought Westgate, he might be of some
+service in this crisis. But Barry was as useless now as
+a baby. The woman herself was unapproachable, and
+Lamar, who, on former occasions, had been found to be
+secretly pliable, would hardly be so base now as to sell
+out both his constituents and his sweetheart. Moreover,
+it was fairly certain that labor, having taken the
+bit in its teeth, would be uncontrollable. And an
+answer must be forthcoming within twenty-four hours.
+The board decided that there could be but one answer.</p>
+
+<p>When the committee called, on the following day,
+they received a “categorical no” in reply to their demand.
+And, after twelve o’clock of the same day,
+every wheel and lathe and trip-hammer in the Malleson
+mills was left without its attendant. Only the seven
+non-union men remained at work, and they, perforce,
+were given a holiday.</p>
+
+<p>So the oft-repeated struggle between capital and
+labor, with the strike as labor’s weapon, began anew.
+Capital and the friends of capital in the entire city felt
+that labor had been unjust in its demand, and that the
+strike was nothing more nor less than an outrage.
+Labor and the friends of labor, on the other hand, felt
+that capital, in attempting to choke the life out of
+unionism, and set its heel more firmly on the neck of
+the workingman, had gone too far and must be taught
+that the dignity of labor and the rights of the individual
+laborer would, at all hazards, be maintained.</p>
+
+<p>The Reverend Mr. Farrar was one of those who
+warmly espoused the cause of the striking employees.
+He saw, in the discharge of Bricky Hoover, and in the
+company’s refusal to reinstate him, only the opening<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_292"></a>[292]</span>
+shot in a new war on the rights of the city’s workingmen;
+and he did not hesitate to so express himself, nor
+did he hesitate to offer his sympathy, and such assistance
+as he was able to give, to the strikers.</p>
+
+<p>The businessmen of the city, whose interests were
+likely to suffer severely in the event of a prolonged
+strike, presented a formal request, both to the company
+and to its employees, to submit the matter in dispute
+between them to arbitration. And both refused. The
+men on the ground that their demand was too unequivocally
+plain and just to be submitted to the uncertain
+judgment of arbitrators; and the company on
+the ground that it could not, without loss of self-respect,
+concede to any one the right to say whom it should or
+should not employ at its works.</p>
+
+<p>So the strike went on. The plant remained idle.
+The fires in the furnaces were drawn. Only watchmen
+remained on duty. Some half-finished orders, sent to
+a smaller mill of another company to be completed,
+precipitated a strike at that plant also; and then the
+workmen of a third mill, infected with the spirit of
+revolt, determined to take advantage of the situation
+to better their own condition, and joined in the general
+upheaval. The original strike had not been called in
+exact accordance with union rules. The men had been
+too precipitate in their action, and some of the union
+officials felt that they should have been sent back to
+work in order that union discipline might prevail. But
+their cause was so entirely just, the conduct of the
+company had been so flagrant, and its purpose so plain,
+the sympathy of union labor in the city was so overwhelmingly
+with the men, that their strike was endorsed,
+not only by the union to which they belonged,
+but by the federated unions of the city as well. With
+this backing the fight went on. Silence hung over the
+Malleson mills. No smoke ascended from the chimneys.
+No roar of forge or rattle of machinery was
+heard there. No sight or sound or soul of industry<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_293"></a>[293]</span>
+gave life or movement to the place. The very snow
+upon the paths that crossed the yard, paths trodden
+daily in happier times by human hundreds, lay now
+untracked and undisturbed. Idle men loitered along
+the streets of the city, or stood aimlessly on sunny
+corners. Merchants were despondent and fearful. The
+business of the town was in a state of alarming depression.
+The saloons alone retained their normal prosperity.
+By and by came hardship, destitution, misery.
+Not all workmen are sufficiently provident to lay by
+enough to tide them over a rainy day. Many of those
+who were, found their resources drained as the days of
+the strike grew long. The strike-fund voted by the
+union was but a pittance in comparison with the needs
+which it helped to supply, and even that fund drew
+toward exhaustion with the prolongation of the
+struggle.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps those who suffered most were day-laborers
+not affiliated with any union, employed outside the
+mills and factories, whose occupations, indirectly
+affected by the strike, and by the general business
+depression, were now closed to them. They, indeed,
+were in sore straits. Public aid was asked for, but the
+response was neither quick nor liberal. It is one thing
+to sympathize with the victims of disaster; it is quite
+another thing to open your purse to them.</p>
+
+<p>It was the first of February when the strike was
+called. Through all that month severe weather prevailed.
+There were howling blizzards, unprecedented
+snowfalls, arctic temperatures. It is no wonder that
+by the first of March the suffering among the poor had
+become wide-spread, intense and tragic.</p>
+
+<p>And all because the Malleson Manufacturing Company
+had dismissed, and would not take back into its
+employ, one big, red-haired, raw-boned, good-natured
+workman; and because his fellow-laborers would not
+work without him.</p>
+
+<p>High cause indeed for which to plunge and hold a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_294"></a>[294]</span>
+city in distress. The rights of capital! The dignity
+of labor! Strange shibboleths to be bandied about
+the streets while idle men grew desperate, and women
+and little children were starving and freezing in destitute
+and miserable homes.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_295"></a>[295]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII<br>
+<small>A HOPELESS QUEST</small></h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>There was work and a plenty of it for the charitably
+inclined to do during those sad March days. Some
+noble-souled women, caring not which side in the conflict
+was right or which side wrong, went about like
+ministering angels to relieve the destitute and care for
+the suffering. Ruth Tracy was one of these. Her
+days were filled with her hard and unlovely tasks
+among the poor, and her nights were often sleepless because
+of the scenes she had witnessed by day.</p>
+
+<p>In her visits to the homes of the destitute she had
+often met the rector of Christ Church. His errands
+were similar to hers. They counseled together, they
+compared notes, they parceled out relief. Together
+they traveled through snow-burdened, wind-swept,
+desolate streets. More and more he came to rely upon
+her big-hearted judgment, and her sympathetic aid.
+He shared with her the problem of the poor that lay
+so heavily on his own heart. She became necessary to
+him, invaluable, indispensable. And as for her, his
+nobility of character, his great passion for suffering
+humanity, his tireless energy in the doing of all good
+deeds, these things loomed ever larger and larger in
+her mind, as she watched him day by day in the performance
+of his self-appointed and self-rewarded tasks.</p>
+
+<p>In these tragic days Barry Malleson also did heroic
+service. It is true that he was not possessed, to any
+considerable extent, of the power of initiative. And it
+is true also that he had little capacity for making
+organized effort. But, acting under the advice and instruction<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_296"></a>[296]</span>
+of others, he made his work invaluable. His
+chair at the office of the Malleson Manufacturing Company
+had been practically deserted for weeks. He was
+not needed there. As a matter of fact he never had
+been needed there. But the cessation of the company’s
+activities, and the president’s attitude of hostility
+toward him, had made his presence at the factory even
+less necessary, not to say less welcome, than it had ever
+been before. He was entirely free to engage in charitable
+work, and to the best of his ability, and to the
+extent of his means, he did engage in it. And it was
+none the less to his credit that his labors in this behalf
+were carried on under the direct supervision of the
+rector of Christ Church, and of his zealous co-workers,
+Ruth Tracy and Mary Bradley. Many a desolate
+home was lightened, for the time being at least, by his
+cheery words, his winning smile, and his material gifts
+as he made his scheduled calls or accompanied the
+Widow Bradley on her pathetic rounds. For she, too,
+had vacated an office chair to give her time to charity.
+She traveled the streets of poverty-stricken sections by
+day, and many a night she spent at the bedside of the
+sick, or in well-nigh hopeless efforts to comfort those
+in the deepest of all affliction. What little money she
+had, beyond an amount sufficient to supply her own
+daily needs, was soon exhausted, for she could not bear
+to see suffering while she had a penny to relieve it.
+But the sympathy of her heart, the comfort of her
+voice, the work of her hands, these things were inexhaustible.</p>
+
+<p>She sat, one night, at the bedside of a dying child—a
+poor, half-starved, half-frozen waif of a girl, offspring
+of improvident and penniless parents, innocent victim
+of the stubbornness of forces contending for economic
+mastery. The tossing of the shrunken little body had
+ceased, and no moaning came now from the pale,
+pinched lips. The child lay, mindless, motionless, with
+weakly fluttering pulse, waiting, unwittingly, for the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_297"></a>[297]</span>
+long release. Out in the one other room the mother
+sat, huddled over the embers of a wood fire in a broken
+stove, her elbows on her knees and her chin in her
+hands, hopeless and horror-stricken. At midnight
+Barry Malleson came in. He had not knocked at the
+door. He had found knocking in these doleful days to
+be a superfluous task. The woman barely noticed him
+as he entered. She did not lift her face from her
+hands. By the light of the tallow dip in the other
+room he saw Mary Bradley sitting at the bedside of
+the child. She motioned to him to come in.</p>
+
+<p>“Will I disturb her?” he whispered, as he tiptoed
+to the door.</p>
+
+<p>“No,” she replied; “nothing will ever disturb her
+again.”</p>
+
+<p>“I heard you were here,” he said, “and I came to
+walk home with you. It’s after midnight.”</p>
+
+<p>“That was very thoughtful of you, Barry. But I
+shall not go home to-night. I can’t leave the woman,
+and I can’t leave the child. Don’t you see I can’t
+leave her?”</p>
+
+<p>His eyes followed hers toward the bed, and rested
+for a moment on the white, pathetic face, marked with
+the sign of speedy dissolution, lying quietly against the
+soiled pillow.</p>
+
+<p>“I see,” he said. “What’s to be done?”</p>
+
+<p>“Nothing,” she replied, and repeated, “nothing;
+nothing.”</p>
+
+<p>“You know,” he continued, “I’d stop this whole
+fiendish business in five minutes if I had any voice in
+the board; but they won’t listen to me, not one of
+them.”</p>
+
+<p>“I know, Barry. You’re not to blame. You’ve
+done everything in your power. You’re a hero. But,
+my God, it’s horrible!”</p>
+
+<p>Tears sprang to her eyes, and she wiped them away.
+Barry’s heart was touched. It was the first time in all
+this dreadful period of her ministry that he had seen<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_298"></a>[298]</span>
+her weep. He went closer to her, and laid a pitying
+hand on her shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>“You’re all broken up,” he said. “You’ve got to
+get some rest. You must go home in the morning and
+stay there.”</p>
+
+<p>She did not appear to heed his admonition, but she
+put her hand up, and rested it on his.</p>
+
+<p>“There’s a favor I want to ask of you, Barry. I’ve
+been thinking about it to-day. You know, a long
+time ago, you brought me a check as a gift from your
+company, and I refused it. You brought it again and
+I still refused it. You urged me many times to take
+it. Is that check still in existence?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I have it. It was charged up to our charity
+account when it was issued, and it still stands that
+way.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, Barry, my pride is all gone now. If you
+should offer it to me again I’d—I’d take it.”</p>
+
+<p>“You shall have it. It’s yours. I’ll bring it to you
+the first thing in the morning.”</p>
+
+<p>“Thank you! I can do so much with the money
+now. Oh, so much! It will be a godsend to Factory
+Hill.”</p>
+
+<p>The shawl-clad woman in the kitchen rose, gathered
+a few sticks of wood from a corner of the room, thrust
+them into the stove, and again seated herself, crouching,
+silent, over the inadequate fire.</p>
+
+<p>“And there’s another thing, Barry, but I can’t tell
+you that to-night. I’ve got to have a stronger heart
+when I tell you that, because you’ve been so unselfish,
+and brave, and splendid in every way, and I dread to
+hurt you.”</p>
+
+<p>He looked down at her questioningly.</p>
+
+<p>“What is it, Mary?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not to-night. I said, not to-night.”</p>
+
+<p>“Very well. Then if I can’t do anything more for
+you I’ll be going. You have food enough to last till
+morning?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_299"></a>[299]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Yes; I brought some with me when I came.”</p>
+
+<p>“And wood for the stove?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, there’s nothing you can do.”</p>
+
+<p>“All right. I’ll be back early in the morning.”</p>
+
+<p>He glanced again at the all but pulseless figure on
+the bed, and turned toward the door.</p>
+
+<p>“Barry!”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes?”</p>
+
+<p>She had risen and stood facing him.</p>
+
+<p>“Barry, God bless you! Now go.”</p>
+
+<p>He went softly out through the bare room in which
+the grief-crazed mother still sat crouched and moaning,
+and passed thence into the night. But Mary Bradley
+sank back into her chair and let her tears flow unchecked.
+In happier days she would have scorned to
+ask God’s blessing on any one. But now only God
+was great enough to be good to this witless and tender-hearted
+hero.</p>
+
+<p>An hour later the pulse that had fluttered so long
+at the thin little wrist grew still. Mary Bradley
+performed such trifling offices as the dead require, drew
+the crumpled and untidy sheet up over the pitiful young
+face, and, through the remaining hours of the night,
+held hopeless vigil with a mother who would not be
+consoled.</p>
+
+<p>At daybreak she went out into the face of the bleak
+March wind to hunt for Stephen Lamar.</p>
+
+<p>She found him alone, in the early morning, at strike-headquarters,
+shivering over a half-heated stove.</p>
+
+<p>“Steve,” she said, “call it off. For God’s sake, call
+it off!”</p>
+
+<p>“Call what off, Mary?”</p>
+
+<p>“The strike. Call it off. I can’t stand this any
+longer. I can’t spend another night like the one I’ve
+just been through. It’s too terrible.”</p>
+
+<p>“But it was for your sake I brought it on.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then for my sake call it off. If the sin is mine I
+want my soul cleared of it to-day.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_300"></a>[300]</span></p>
+
+<p>He did not answer her for a moment. He looked
+out wearily through the unclean window into the
+cheerless street. Then he said:</p>
+
+<p>“I may as well tell you the truth, Mary. I can’t
+stop it. It’s gone too far. I’ve been up all night with
+the committee. There isn’t a thing we can do.”</p>
+
+<p>“You can send the men back to work.”</p>
+
+<p>“We can’t. Malleson won’t take ’em. He won’t
+have a union man in his plant. He says so, and he
+means it. Next week he opens up the mills to non-union
+labor. Then there’ll be trouble. My God,
+there’ll be trouble!”</p>
+
+<p>His face was white and haggard, and his under lip
+trembled as he spoke. She looked at him incredulously.</p>
+
+<p>“You don’t mean to say,” she asked, “that he won’t
+let his old men go back to work? Not if you kept
+Bricky Hoover out?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not if we sent Bricky Hoover straight to hell
+to-day. Not a single striker gets work at Malleson’s
+mills again.”</p>
+
+<p>She dropped into the chair he had placed for her
+when she came in, and gripped the arms of it.</p>
+
+<p>“But that”—she protested—“that isn’t human.”</p>
+
+<p>“I know it isn’t human. But what can we do?
+When Dick Malleson makes up his mind no power in
+the universe can move him.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, Steve, women are starving and freezing.
+Little children are dying. The man has no heart, no
+soul.”</p>
+
+<p>“True! And if he tries to break the strike with
+scabs he’ll have no mill.”</p>
+
+<p>“Steve! There won’t be violence; there won’t be
+bloodshed?”</p>
+
+<p>“I can’t tell what there’ll be. The men are desperate,
+and they’ll do desperate things.”</p>
+
+<p>“But I won’t have bloodshed! I’ve got enough to
+answer for as it is. I tell you, Steve, you’ve got to
+stop it.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_301"></a>[301]</span></p>
+
+<p>“And I tell you I can’t stop it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then I’ll find some one who can. Mr. Farrar will
+help me.”</p>
+
+<p>At the mention of the clergyman’s name the man’s
+face flushed. For Mary Bradley to go from Lamar to
+seek the rector’s aid was simply to pour oil on a
+smoldering fire. She had been already too much in
+this minister’s company under pretense of visiting the
+poor. Why should she hold him, Stephen Lamar, her
+avowed lover, at arm’s length, while bestowing clandestine
+favors on this discredited hypocrite of the Church?
+No fire burns so fiercely as the fire of jealousy.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, Farrar!” he sneered. “What will he do?
+Go pray with old man Malleson who doesn’t give a
+damn for his pious advice? I tell you this fellow has
+lost his grip. Capital derides him; labor laughs at
+him; you might as well——”</p>
+
+<p>“Stop! You can’t slander him in my presence.
+He’s been the one strong, heroic figure in all this
+dreadful disaster, and the whole city knows it.”</p>
+
+<p>The man’s jealous wrath blazed up in words befitting
+the loafer of the street.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, you; you think he’s a little tin god on wheels!
+You think he’s the greatest thing that ever came down
+the pike! I say he’s a damned hypocrite and a menace
+to society, and I’ll prove it.”</p>
+
+<p>She rose from her chair with face aflame and anger
+flashing from her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>“Steve,” she said, “take that back. You coward,
+take that back!”</p>
+
+<p>He saw that he had overreached himself and grew
+suddenly penitent.</p>
+
+<p>“Forgive me, Mary! I don’t know what I’m saying.
+I’m driven crazy by this infernal strike—and by you.”</p>
+
+<p>“By me?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, by you. You have no pity. I’m eating my
+heart out for you, and you’re as cold as an arctic
+moon.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_302"></a>[302]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Do you want me to be kind to you?”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s the only want I have.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then stop this strike. Stop it and ask anything
+decent of me and it’s yours. But until you do stop it,
+don’t speak to me, nor look at me, nor so much as
+whisper my name.”</p>
+
+<p>She turned and swept out from his presence, and
+when she was gone he dropped back into his chair,
+stared at the blank walls around him, and cursed the
+evil days on which he had so ingloriously fallen.</p>
+
+<p>But he resolved to win back the favor of the woman
+for whose sake he would joyously have walked straight
+to perdition.</p>
+
+<p>Through the bleak March morning, past piles of
+grimy, half-melted snow, Mary Bradley went. Two
+blocks up, at the corner of the street which led from
+the mill, she met Barry Malleson. He had gone early,
+as he had said he would, to procure her check. He
+drew it from his pocket now and gave it to her.</p>
+
+<p>“It only needs your endorsement,” he said, “and
+you can get the money at any bank.”</p>
+
+<p>“Thank you, Barry! Now I want you to go with
+me.”</p>
+
+<p>“Where?” And before she could reply he added:
+“It doesn’t matter where. I’ll go, and be glad to.”</p>
+
+<p>But she told him where she wished him to go.</p>
+
+<p>“I’m going to see Mr. Farrar,” she said. “Perhaps
+he can do something to put an end to this unbearable
+tragedy.”</p>
+
+<p>They found him in his study. The darkness of the
+morning had made necessary the lighting of his table-lamp,
+and vague shadows filled the room and moved
+unsteadily up and down his gray face as he bent to his
+work or sat back in his chair to ponder. And he had
+work to do as well as cause to ponder. The suffering
+he had witnessed during these last days lay heavy on
+his heart. His eyes were dim with it; the lines on his
+face were deep with it. His sympathies were stirred<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_303"></a>[303]</span>
+as they had never in his life been stirred before. His
+wife entered the room softly but he neither saw nor
+heard her. She paused and looked at him for a moment
+and then went out without speaking to him.
+She was not vexed nor sullen, but she was inexpressibly
+troubled and sad, and she pitied him. In his work
+among the poor he had not consulted her, nor had he
+asked her aid. She forgave him for that, much as it
+grieved her. For, of course, he knew that she had her
+own burdens to bear, her children to care for, her house
+to be kept under ever more and more straitened circumstances
+and embarrassing conditions. So why should
+he burden her with his cares or sorrows, or harass her
+mind by recitals of the sufferings of others? Yet she
+had abundant reason to be despondent and distressed,
+and worn out in both body and soul. Society which
+had ceased to recognize him had, of necessity, gradually,
+but unobtrusively, closed its doors to her. Her
+whole life, in these bitter days, was compassed by the
+four walls of the rectory. If she could only have been
+his companion and helpmate how gladly she would
+have borne it all. But she knew her limitations, her
+childish incapacity, her deplorable lack of every resource
+on which he might have drawn to aid him in
+solving his problems or in performing the tasks that
+confronted him. How natural it was that, in default
+of this aid from her, he should accept, or even seek it
+from another. And with this thought the poignancy
+of her suffering reached its climax. For she saw, or
+believed she saw, the place that should have been hers
+as her husband’s friend and counselor and loyal and
+helpful companion successfully filled by another. What
+cause, other than this, could bring more bitter sorrow
+into the heart of a loving wife? She was not angry
+nor resentful, but she was inexpressibly grieved and
+hurt.</p>
+
+<p>When Barry and his companion entered the study
+the minister rose and welcomed them with sad cordiality.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_304"></a>[304]</span>
+He saw that the woman was excited and distressed,
+and he knew that there must be some disastrous
+development in the already unbearable situation.</p>
+
+<p>“What is it now?” he asked her. “Has any new
+limit of suffering been reached?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” she replied, “my limit has been reached. I
+can’t bear it any longer. I came to ask you to make
+one more effort to put an end to this horrible strife.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” echoed Barry; “she’s gone the limit. I
+know. It’s up to you and me, Farrar, to buckle in and
+make a whirlwind effort to end this thing now. We’re
+the only two men on earth that can do it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Barry,” said the rector, “it’s no use. You’ve done
+all that a human being could do. And I, Mrs. Bradley,
+I have exhausted every effort. The men are stubborn,
+the mill-owners are obdurate; the thing is absolutely
+dead-locked.”</p>
+
+<p>“The mill-owners are indeed obdurate,” she replied,
+“but the men are no longer stubborn. They’ve been
+starved and frozen into submission. They’ll go back
+on any terms.”</p>
+
+<p>“Without Bricky Hoover?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, without Bricky Hoover.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then why under the canopy don’t they go?” asked
+Barry. “We’ll take ’em in a minute, if they’ve
+dropped Bricky.”</p>
+
+<p>“They don’t go,” she replied, “because the company
+won’t let them.”</p>
+
+<p>“Won’t let them!” exclaimed Barry and the rector
+in unison.</p>
+
+<p>“Won’t let them,” she repeated. “Mr. Malleson
+says they’ve repented too late. He’s hired strike-breakers,
+scabs, thugs, to take their places.”</p>
+
+<p>“Who told you this?” demanded the rector.</p>
+
+<p>“Steve Lamar. He says there’ll be riots and bloodshed.
+And, if there is, the guilt of it will be on my
+head. You must stop it, Mr. Farrar. You must!
+You must!”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_305"></a>[305]</span></p>
+
+<p>She dropped into a near-by chair, hid her face in her
+hands and fell to sobbing. It was the first time that
+either of these men had seen her thus broken in pride
+and strength, and for a moment they gazed at her and
+at each other in silence. Then the rector went to her,
+and laid a quieting hand on her shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>“You mustn’t give way like this,” he said. “We
+need you. We need your courage, more now than ever
+before. I can’t understand this. You must have been
+misinformed. Lamar must be mistaken. If the men
+are willing to go back on Mr. Malleson’s terms he certainly
+can’t refuse them; he dare not; he must not!”</p>
+
+<p>He was growing as excited and indignant over the
+situation as was Mary Bradley herself.</p>
+
+<p>“Tell him so, Mr. Farrar!” exclaimed the woman.
+“Please go to him and tell him so. He won’t listen
+to the men. He won’t listen to Barry. He won’t
+listen to anybody. But maybe—there’s just a chance—that
+if you go to him again, and tell him this, he
+may see the wisdom of it, the justice of it, the absolute
+necessity of it.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll go,” said the rector.</p>
+
+<p>“And I’ll go with you,” exclaimed Barry, “to clinch
+the argument. He hasn’t listened to me before.
+Maybe he will now.”</p>
+
+<p>She rose from her chair and looked at the two men
+from tear-filled eyes.</p>
+
+<p>“You are both very brave,” she said, “and noble.
+And I know you’ll succeed. I know it. It can’t be
+otherwise. If you fail it will kill me, and I’ll have to
+go up to God with this sin on my soul.”</p>
+
+<p>Again the rector sought to soothe and encourage her.
+He did not know what she meant by her self-accusations,
+but he knew that this was no time to inquire.
+Moreover, he was eager to be off on his errand. He
+took her hand and, holding it in his, walked with her
+down the hall to his street door, trying to speak comforting
+words. How comforting he did not know.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_306"></a>[306]</span>
+What calmness came to her with his touch he did not
+dream. How precious in her heart she held the
+memory of that little journey to the outer air, he
+could not by any possible chance conceive.</p>
+
+<p>At the street corner she left them. She did not look
+again at the rector. But she turned pleading eyes on
+Barry.</p>
+
+<p>“You’ll come and tell me,” she implored, “what
+happens?”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll come,” said Barry, “if I get away alive.”</p>
+
+<p>He smiled at her, lifted his hat, and then joined the
+rector who was already hurrying on his way. The
+morning was not cold, but it was raw and misty, and
+the air had in it an indescribable chill. The two men
+walked rapidly and in silence. Shivering workmen,
+with despondent faces, looked at them as they passed,
+and some lifted their caps awkwardly from tousled
+heads in recognition. It was no unusual sight to see
+the rector and Barry on the street together in these
+days, and no one commented on their appearance now.
+The men had no grievance against Barry. He had
+doubtless done what he could for them, but they knew
+him to be absolutely helpless, and they saw no possible
+gleam of hope in his direction. As for the rector, he
+was of course a friend to labor. He had proved that
+to them abundantly. But they no longer looked to
+him to lead them up out of slavery. As Steve Lamar
+said, he had lost his grip, if he had ever had one.
+Every effort of his on their behalf had been utterly
+useless, if indeed he had not, by these very efforts,
+plunged them into still deeper servitude. He had
+preached the religion of Christ to those in high places
+and it had availed nothing. He had preached it to
+men ground down by capital and suffering from
+hunger, and it had not served to right a single wrong,
+or relieve a single pang of distress. What they wanted
+was a religion that would not only affirm their rights,
+but would in fact obtain them. What they wanted<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_307"></a>[307]</span>
+was a man who could not only preach justice, but
+could get it; a man with material as well as spiritual
+power, a man who could force capital to its knees, and
+bring victory to the cause of labor. And the rector of
+Christ Church was not such a man. Wherefore they
+looked on with indifference as these two passed by.</p>
+
+<p>Though it was still early morning Richard Malleson
+was in. He had been coming early to his office, and
+staying late. That his work and his anxiety were
+wearing on him there could be no doubt. His appearance
+indicated it. Within the last two months he had
+aged perceptibly. His hair had grown noticeably gray.
+Sharp lines had been etched into his face. His clothes
+no longer fitted his body snugly, and above his collar
+the skin of his neck hung in flabby, vertical folds. But
+his cold, gray eyes had lost none of their sharpness,
+and his square, aggressive jaws were even more firmly
+set than of old. He sent out word that he would see
+Mr. Farrar, but that Barry was not to be admitted.
+So the rector entered the office alone. The president
+of the company rose and shook hands formally with
+his visitor, and motioned him to a chair. Then he sat
+back and fingered his eye-glasses expectantly. The
+rector went at once to the point, as was his custom.</p>
+
+<p>“My errand this morning,” he said, “is to tell you
+that I believe a way has been opened for the immediate
+resumption of work at your mills.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes?” There was no manifestation of surprise or
+of interest in either his voice or his manner.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. I understand that your men are willing to return
+on the old terms, without Bricky Hoover.”</p>
+
+<p>“I believe that is true. I was so informed by a committee
+yesterday.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then what stands in the way of a settlement?”</p>
+
+<p>“Everything. We shall not take these men back.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why not?”</p>
+
+<p>“I will tell you. We had an agreement with them
+which, by their strike, they have flagrantly and causelessly<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_308"></a>[308]</span>
+violated. We have now, on our part, abrogated
+that agreement. They are irresponsible, reckless and
+destructive. We shall not reëmploy them.”</p>
+
+<p>“You don’t mean to say that these men who have
+given the better part of their lives to your service are
+to be locked out? blacklisted?”</p>
+
+<p>“Call it what you choose, Mr. Farrar. We are
+through with them. When we reopen our shops, as
+we shall reopen them next week, it will be to men
+who have not worked us injury, and in whose word
+and good faith we hope we can trust.”</p>
+
+<p>“But, Mr. Malleson, do you realize that if you bring
+in new men to take the places of the old ones there is
+sure to be trouble?”</p>
+
+<p>“We look to the police and the law to protect our
+property and our employees, and if the police and the
+law are not sufficient we shall have armed deputies of
+our own to defend us against violence.”</p>
+
+<p>“Pardon me, but you will only be inviting disorder.
+The patience of these striking workmen is strained already
+to the breaking point. You cannot assume that
+they will stand idly by and see strangers take the places
+to which they believe themselves entitled. Bloodshed,
+in such a case, is no remote possibility.”</p>
+
+<p>“We assume nothing, sir, except that we have a
+right, under the law, to operate our works with such
+men as we see fit to employ. If unwarranted or violent
+interference with our property or our employees is resorted
+to, and bloodshed ensues, we shall hold ourselves
+in no way responsible.”</p>
+
+<p>The cold logic of his reply left room for no further
+argument. The appeal to reason having been dismissed,
+an appeal to sentiment was now the minister’s
+only recourse.</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Malleson,” he said, “there is one thing more
+which I beg you to consider. These workmen of
+yours are beaten. You have forced them into the last
+ditch. Their wives are starving and their babies are<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_309"></a>[309]</span>
+dying. They are ready to yield every point. Unless
+you give them work the weak and the helpless among
+them will perish like beasts. You are a Christian man.
+I appeal to you in the name of the merciful Christ to
+have mercy on them.”</p>
+
+<p>The president of the company looked at his visitor
+for a full minute before replying. Then he said:</p>
+
+<p>“You also are a Christian man, Mr. Farrar. And
+you are a minister of the gospel besides. And, as a
+minister, you have preached discord and discontent.
+You have stirred up envy and hatred in the breasts of
+these working people. You have roused the spirit and
+the passions which have led to this destitution and
+misery. You have sown the wind; your victims are
+reaping the whirlwind. It comes with poor grace
+from you to appeal to my sense of Christian mercy.”</p>
+
+<p>The rector did not resent the accusation, and he
+made little attempt to justify himself. He simply
+said:</p>
+
+<p>“I have preached the gospel of Jesus Christ as I
+have understood it. But let us assume that I have
+been wrong. Let us even assume that my preaching
+may have been in part responsible for this disaster.
+The emergency is too great for any of us to pause long
+enough to lay the blame at another’s door. We are
+confronted by suffering unspeakable. With one word
+you can relieve it. With one turn of the hand you can
+lift a whole community from the slough of wretchedness
+and despair to the very heights of happiness, and that
+without yielding one iota of your lawful right or personal
+dignity. Again I ask you, as a Christian man,
+to exert your power on the side of mercy.”</p>
+
+<p>“And again I tell you that, being a Christian man, I
+shall not throw this sop to the forces of evil. I can do
+no greater service to this community than to exert my
+power to crush this spirit of revolt which you and those
+like you have fostered here. I intend to stamp out,
+so far as I can, those pernicious doctrines of socialism,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_310"></a>[310]</span>
+of radicalism, of syndicalism by the preaching of which
+you and your companions and followers have brought
+to the people of this city hardship and suffering which
+you now find yourselves powerless to relieve.”</p>
+
+<p>“We are powerless to relieve it, Mr. Malleson. That
+is frankly why I come to you. And I come as man to
+man, with a man’s message on my lips.”</p>
+
+<p>“As man to man!” The phrase seemed to have
+caught the president’s attention. His face flushed as
+if in anger. “As man to man,” he repeated. “What
+have I in common with you who find your companions
+among atheists and radicals? Why should I take
+counsel with you who have taken delight in warping
+the weak mind of a member of my family into complete
+acceptance of your destructive doctrines? You
+have made him easy prey of designing women, and a
+tool of sinister men. You have alienated him from his
+family and his friends. I say why should I listen for
+one moment to you?”</p>
+
+<p>He half rose in his chair, struck his clenched fist on
+the table, and glared at his visitor in unmistakable
+anger.</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Malleson,” replied the rector; he was still calm
+and deliberate, “you do me an injustice. I have done
+no harm to your son. But that is neither here nor
+there. I came to appeal to you, not for myself nor for
+your son, but in behalf of your starving workmen.
+Will you take them back?”</p>
+
+<p>“I will not take them back. They left me without
+cause. They have assassinated my character. They
+have tried to wreck my business.”</p>
+
+<p>“They may both wreck your business and destroy
+your property in the end.”</p>
+
+<p>“Is that a threat, Mr. Farrar?”</p>
+
+<p>“I make no threats; God forbid! But, since you
+will not listen to reason, nor be moved by pity, I must
+tell you frankly that in my judgment you have brought
+this calamity on yourself; and if you persist in the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_311"></a>[311]</span>
+course you are pursuing, a still worse calamity is sure
+to follow.”</p>
+
+<p>The president of the manufacturing company rose to
+his feet, white with rage.</p>
+
+<p>“Sir,” he exclaimed, “the interview is at an end!”</p>
+
+<p>“As you choose,” replied the minister. “But beware
+of the next messenger who comes. For, instead
+of bringing to you the olive branch which I have
+brought, he may bring to you the rioter’s club, and the
+incendiary’s torch.”</p>
+
+<p>It was doubtless a rash thing for him to say. But
+when his heart was hot the rector of Christ Church
+did not pause to consider well the words he should
+utter.</p>
+
+<p>He left the office of the president and strode back to
+his home under lowering skies, through wet and dingy
+streets, moved by such indignation and despair as had
+never in his life before found lodgment in his breast.
+Yet he caught himself, ever and anon, wondering
+whether the charge that Richard Malleson had so
+bluntly and brutally thrust at him was in any respect
+true; the charge that he himself, by preaching a gospel
+of discontent, had helped to bring on this industrial war.
+He tried to evade the question, to dismiss it from his
+mind, but it would not down. Was he or was he not,
+in any degree, responsible for this economic tragedy?
+Mary Bradley had declared that the guilt of it lay on
+her soul. This was doubtless untrue. But how much
+of the guilt of it lay on his? Here, indeed, was food
+for thought.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>When Bricky Hoover came into strike-headquarters
+that morning Lamar was still there, and he was alone.
+Hoover, too, had the appearance of a man who had
+been suffering from both a physical and a mental strain.
+His clothing was wrinkled and soiled, his face was
+swollen, his eyes were bloodshot, and when he threw
+his cap on the table he disclosed a tangled shock of red<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_312"></a>[312]</span>
+hair that for twenty-four hours at least had not felt the
+civilizing effect of a comb.</p>
+
+<p>Lamar looked up at him and scowled.</p>
+
+<p>“Bricky,” he said, “you were drunk last night. You
+were no good. Don’t you know that you can’t afford
+to swill booze while this strike is on?”</p>
+
+<p>“I know it, Steve,” he replied. “I admit I was
+drunk. But the thing got on my nerves and I had to
+stiddy myself somehow. I took a drop too much, that’s
+all. What’s the next move?”</p>
+
+<p>“The next move is to call off the strike.”</p>
+
+<p>“Call it off? What for?”</p>
+
+<p>“Because we’re licked. And the only chance for
+the men to get anything is to go ask for it, one by one.”</p>
+
+<p>“I say we ain’t licked. And they won’t a man git
+’is job back by goin’ and askin’ for it. I know. Wasn’t
+I on the comity that went to see the old man yisterday?
+I crawled on me belly to ’im; told ’im I’d quit
+the city, leave the state, go drown meself, do anything,
+if he’d take the bunch back on the old terms. He
+snarled at me an’ wouldn’t listen to it. I told ’im I’d
+do the same thing if he’d take the men back, one by
+one, as he wanted ’em. He come down on me like a
+thousand o’ brick. Said he’d ruther see his mills burn
+down than take back a single traitor of us. Banged
+’is fist on the table an’ called me a Judas Ischariot. I
+told you all that last night. Steve, no man can’t call
+me a Judas Ischariot an’ save ’is skin. This strike is
+goin’ on.”</p>
+
+<p>“But I tell you it can’t go on. The old man’s got
+us by the throat and he’s choking us to death.”</p>
+
+<p>“Hell! That’s baby-talk! We’ve got him up ag’inst
+the wall, and he can’t do a thing.”</p>
+
+<p>“But he’s going to open up with scabs and strike-breakers.”</p>
+
+<p>“Let him! They won’t last three days. We can
+hold out for ten. At the end of that time the strike’ll
+be won.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_313"></a>[313]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Bricky, you’re a fool. The men can’t hold out for
+ten days. They’re starving. It’s March. They’ll break
+away from us one by one. They’ll tumble over each
+other looking for their jobs. You won’t smash Dick
+Malleson, but you’ll smash the union.”</p>
+
+<p>“I say we’ll smash Dick Malleson, and I know what
+I’m talkin’ about. I know the men. I know what
+they’ll stan’ for, and I know what they won’t stan’ for.
+Ten days turns the trick.”</p>
+
+<p>“Bricky, I said you were a fool. I say, now, you’re
+a damned fool! The thing can’t be done. It’s impossible!”</p>
+
+<p>Bricky did not grow angry at the denunciation. He
+smiled strangely and raised his voice but slightly as he
+replied:</p>
+
+<p>“Look here, Steve. You made a fool of me once.
+That was when you got me into this thing. And old
+man Malleson made a fool of me once. That was
+yiste’day, when I went beggin’ to him as you told me
+to. They can’t neither of ye make a fool o’ me twice.
+I’m through with both o’ ye. I’m goin’ to smash
+Malleson now on me own account, for the things he
+said to me yiste’day. And as for you, Steve, you can
+go plumb to hell.”</p>
+
+<p>Lamar started up from his chair.</p>
+
+<p>“Bricky,” he shouted, “you’re crazy!”</p>
+
+<p>Bricky never moved nor changed the tone of his voice.</p>
+
+<p>“Maybe I am,” he replied. “But I ain’t crazy
+enough to start five hunderd men on the road to perdition
+jest because a black-eyed, smooth-tongued woman
+puts me up to it. And I ain’t crazy enough nor yellow-hearted
+enough to sell them men out jest because the
+same shaller-minded woman gits cold feet an’ purrs it
+into me ears to do it, an’ pays me my price fer it. Oh,
+I know the game! You can’t put nothin’ over on me!”</p>
+
+<p>“Bricky, you damned, black-hearted scoundrel, get
+out o’ here!”</p>
+
+<p>And Bricky got out.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_314"></a>[314]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII<br>
+<small>A CRUEL SURPRISE</small></h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>On the afternoon of the day following his fruitless
+interview with the president of the Malleson Manufacturing
+Company, the rector of Christ Church sat alone
+in his study, immersed in thought. Not pleasant
+thought; far from it. The times were too sadly out of
+joint for that, the outlook was too darkly threatening.
+His own path was filled, not only with obstacles ahead,
+but with failures and wrecks behind. His dream of
+fusing the classes together in Christian fellowship in
+Christ Church had not been fulfilled. His months of
+effort in that behalf had not only been wasted, but had
+resulted in widening the breach between the very
+classes he would have brought together. He had
+succeeded only in crippling and disorganizing his
+church, and in splitting the body of it in twain. He
+had offended, antagonized, and driven from his communion,
+many of the chief supporters of the church,
+and not a few of its most devout and zealous members.
+Alas! their places had not been filled by people of any
+class. He had made no substantial inroad into the
+ranks of the toilers. Few of those who had at first
+flocked to his standard remained to help him fight his
+battles. Fewer still accepted the creed of his Church,
+or declared their intention of uniting with it. The
+throngs that, during the first months of his crusade,
+had come to hear him preach the new gospel of Christian
+fellowship, had fallen sadly away. There was
+now room, and plenty of it, in all the pews, at all the
+services. The treasury of the church was empty, its
+obligations were unpaid, many of its institutions were<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_315"></a>[315]</span>
+either dormant or wholly abandoned. He, himself,
+refusing to accept the bounty of his treasurer, or the
+charitable offerings of those few among the wealthier
+of his parishioners who still stood listlessly by him,
+was facing an ever-increasing burden of personal debt.
+What was wrong? Had God forsaken him? Had the
+Son of God repudiated the doctrine laid down in His
+Holy Scriptures? Had that doctrine been divinely
+carved into his believing heart in simple mockery?
+They were indeed disturbing, insidious, sinister thoughts
+with which he struggled that day.</p>
+
+<p>In the midst of his contemplation Barry Malleson
+entered. It was evident, even before he spoke, that
+something had gone wrong with him. He had lost his
+air of easy self-assurance. He had a troubled look;
+his eyes were widely open as if in sorrow, at the cause
+of which he was still wondering. His face was unshaven,
+his hair was rumpled, his clothes hung loosely
+on him, and his soft shirt and flowing tie, the like of
+which he had affected since his conversion to socialism,
+were soiled and awry.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, Farrar,” he said, “it’s all up with me. I came
+over to tell you.”</p>
+
+<p>“What’s up, Barry?” The rector had already
+jumped to the conclusion that there had been serious
+trouble with Mary Bradley. But in that he was wrong.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ve had a break,” replied Barry, “with the president
+of the company. I have resigned my position as
+vice-president.”</p>
+
+<p>The situation became at once plain to the minister.</p>
+
+<p>“Was your resignation demanded?” he asked.</p>
+
+<p>“You may say so, yes. I have also been ordered to
+keep away from the office and the plant.”</p>
+
+<p>“For what reason?”</p>
+
+<p>“The president doesn’t wish to have any socialist on
+the premises.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s absurd! He has a very narrow mind.”</p>
+
+<p>“He has a very determined mind when he’s once<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_316"></a>[316]</span>
+made it up, and he’s made it up all right so far as I am
+concerned. I have decided also, Farrar, to withdraw
+from his house and family.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why should you do that?”</p>
+
+<p>“He says I may stay there as a matter of grace on
+his part. But, you know, that’s contrary to our creed.
+We socialists don’t believe in charity. What we want
+is simple justice.”</p>
+
+<p>It sounded gruesome and uncanny, coming from
+Barry’s lips, this repetition of a doctrine that the rector
+himself had spread broadcast. Was this another victim
+of an unsound creed? The question forced itself in
+upon the minister’s mind with appalling insistence.
+“But, Barry,” he exclaimed, “this is tragic! It is unnecessarily
+tragic! Does he give you no alternative?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes. He’ll take it all back on certain conditions.
+You see he’s practically disowned and disinherited
+me now. If I’ll do what he wants me to he’ll
+restore me to his favor.”</p>
+
+<p>“What does he want you to do?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, in the first place he wants me to cut out
+socialism. I can’t cut out socialism, Farrar. I believe
+in it. It’s the road to comfort and peace and happiness
+for the human race.”</p>
+
+<p>How trite and hollow the pet phrase sounded in the
+face of a calamity like this! From whom had he
+learned it, that he should repeat it, parrot-like, to the
+confusion of his host? The rector turned sad eyes on
+his visitor.</p>
+
+<p>“Is that all you are to do, Barry?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, no! I’ve got to repudiate you, and everything
+you stand for. Can you imagine me doing that,
+Farrar? Why, I’ve looked up to you as the biggest
+and bravest and brainiest man in this city. I’d follow
+you straight to the bottomless pit, if you said the word.”</p>
+
+<p>“Barry! Oh, Barry! Am I leading you to destruction?”</p>
+
+<p>“The president says so. That’s where he and I<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_317"></a>[317]</span>
+can’t agree. He says I’m just simply your dupe. He
+says I have no mind of my own. He says I’ve turned
+over to you for safe-keeping what little brains I ever
+had. Now, Farrar, that was going a step too far, and
+I told him so. I’m no fool. You know that. I’ve
+got as much good sense and sound judgment as the
+next man. And I won’t permit any one, not even my
+own father, to call me a fool. Would you?”</p>
+
+<p>The rector did not answer him. How could he?
+The situation was too pathetic, too tragic, to permit of
+either a confirmation or denial of the correctness of the
+young man’s attitude.</p>
+
+<p>But Barry did not wait for a reply. He hurried on:</p>
+
+<p>“And that isn’t all, Farrar. He says I’ve got to
+throw the widow overboard.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mrs. Bradley?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, Mrs. Bradley. He says I’ve got to break with
+her, lock, stock and barrel. Now, you know, Farrar, I
+can’t do that. I never could do that. It’s impossible!
+Why, I’d as soon think of breaking with God!”</p>
+
+<p>He did not mean to be irreverent. He was simply
+in dead earnest, and he looked it. But he was also in
+deep distress, and his distress wrung the heart of the
+sympathetic and self-accusing rector of Christ Church.</p>
+
+<p>“Barry,” he said, “if I am responsible in any way
+for the misfortunes that have overtaken you—and God
+knows I may be—I ask your forgiveness from the
+bottom of my heart.”</p>
+
+<p>Barry smiled at that. “Oh, now look here, Farrar,”
+he replied. “I didn’t come here to put any blame on
+you. You’ve been my friend and counselor, not my
+enemy—never my enemy.”</p>
+
+<p>“Thank you, Barry. Thank you a thousand times!
+Now tell me what I can do to help you. I would be
+the basest ingrate on earth if I did not stand by you to
+the limit of my power.”</p>
+
+<p>“Nothing, Farrar, nothing. I don’t want help—just
+companionship.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_318"></a>[318]</span></p>
+
+<p>Quick tears sprang to the rector’s eyes, and he went
+over and laid an affectionate arm about the young
+man’s shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>“You shall have it,” he said. “You shall have my
+heart’s best.”</p>
+
+<p>The echo of the front-door bell came to Barry’s ears
+from somewhere in the house, and he started up in
+alarm, and cast an apprehensive glance down the hall
+through the half-opened door. In the distance he
+caught sight of a woman’s skirts, and heard, indistinctly,
+her voice in inquiry.</p>
+
+<p>“It’s Jane,” he whispered. “She’s followed me
+here. She’s got me cornered. Farrar, if you really
+want to do something for me, you’ve got a chance to
+do it now.”</p>
+
+<p>“What shall I do, Barry?”</p>
+
+<p>“Switch her off the track. I can’t meet her to-day.
+Positively I can’t. I—I’m in no condition.”</p>
+
+<p>“You don’t need to meet her.”</p>
+
+<p>“But she’ll insist on it. She knows I’m here. Can’t—can’t
+you let me out the back way?”</p>
+
+<p>He stood there, a picture of abject fright, and cringing
+irresolution. He had not been afraid to talk face
+to face with Richard Malleson, but in the prospect of
+meeting Jane Chichester he became the veriest coward.
+The rector led him through the dining-room to the
+side-door of the rectory, and thence he made his escape
+to the street.</p>
+
+<p>But it was not, after all, Jane Chichester who had
+called. When Mr. Farrar returned to the library he
+found Ruth Tracy there awaiting him.</p>
+
+<p>“Barry was here,” he said, “and you gave him a
+great fright.”</p>
+
+<p>“Indeed! How was that?”</p>
+
+<p>“He thought it was Jane Chichester who came in.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why should he be frightened at Jane?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I’m not sure but that he has good reason to be.
+At any rate I helped him to make his escape by the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_319"></a>[319]</span>
+back door. He would have been quite willing that I
+should ‘let him down by the wall in a basket,’ after
+the manner of Saul’s escape from his enemies at Damascus.
+Barry is somewhat nervous to-day, anyway.
+He came to tell me that his father has disowned him.”</p>
+
+<p>“Because of his conversion to socialism?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, and because of his adherence to me and to my
+cause, and because of his friendly relations with Mrs.
+Bradley.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m sorry. How does he take it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Like a hero. But, Miss Tracy, I can’t get it out
+of my mind that in some way I am responsible for his
+misfortunes. Perhaps I should not have encouraged
+him, perhaps I should not have permitted him, to cast
+in his lot with us.”</p>
+
+<p>“You have no cause for self-accusation on that account,
+Mr. Farrar. You have set up a standard under
+which all men, whether wise or foolish, should not hesitate
+to gather. You cannot discriminate. To do so
+would be destructive to your cause.”</p>
+
+<p>“In these distressing times I have even had doubts
+concerning the righteousness of my cause.”</p>
+
+<p>She looked up at him in alarm. Had the fight been
+too strenuous for him, the strain too severe? Was he,
+after all, about to yield? to become just common clay?
+She, herself, had come to the rectory, despondent and
+despairing, to obtain new courage and strength from
+him. The burden of the suffering that she had witnessed
+during these last terrible weeks was crushing
+the leaven of optimism out of her heart. Were they
+both now to go weakly down together to defeat and
+disaster? A wave of stubborn aggressiveness swept
+into her soul. She would not permit it. She would
+not listen to so sinister a suggestion. She would rise
+in her own strength and save both him and herself.</p>
+
+<p>“You have no right,” she declared, “to say that.
+Why do you harbor such a doubt?”</p>
+
+<p>“Because it seems to me that if God were with me<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_320"></a>[320]</span>
+my church would not be falling into decay. Even the
+people in whose behalf we have fought are leaving us.”</p>
+
+<p>“That is because, in these times, they are too ill-clothed,
+too hungry, too wretched to come to church.
+They do not realize that for these very reasons they
+stand in greater need of the consolation of religion.”</p>
+
+<p>“True. But you can’t thrust religion down the
+throat of a man who is perishing from hunger. And
+the thought that distresses me is that I may have been
+in some way or to some extent responsible for all this
+suffering. If I had not preached to the laboring men,
+as I have, the gospel of discontent with things as they
+are, it may be that these dreadful days would not have
+come.”</p>
+
+<p>He rose from his chair and began pacing up and
+down the room. She saw that he was in distress, and
+that if she would help him she must refute his argument.</p>
+
+<p>“You have simply preached God’s truth to them,”
+she declared. “If they have profited by it to seek to
+better their condition, that fact redounds to your credit.
+It is those who oppress them who are responsible for
+this frightful situation; it is not you, nor your teachings,
+nor because the men have followed you.”</p>
+
+<p>He was still walking rapidly up and down the room.</p>
+
+<p>“But, Miss Tracy,” he asked, “if I am right why
+are not the men of my parish with me? If they were
+with me to-day, if we were acting as one, Christ Church
+would be a power in the alleviation of distress. As it
+is we are almost helpless.”</p>
+
+<p>At that her anger rose. She had not been able to
+forgive the men who were permitting Christ Church
+and its charities to go to wreck in a time like this, because
+of their resentment toward the rector.</p>
+
+<p>“They are not with you because their hearts are
+evil,” she declared. “Because they have no conception
+of the real meaning of Christ’s religion. They are not
+Christians. They are scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites!
+I detest them!”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_321"></a>[321]</span></p>
+
+<p>He stopped in his walk and looked down on her.
+Her cheeks were blazing. Her eyes were flashing with
+indignation. It was plain that her patience with the
+men who had hampered and hindered the rector of
+Christ Church in his work of saving the bodies and
+souls of the poor was exhausted.</p>
+
+<p>“Thank you!” he said. “That was not pious, but
+it was most comforting.”</p>
+
+<p>He went and sat down opposite to her at the library
+table on which her hands were lying as she faced him.</p>
+
+<p>“And you have been my comfort,” he added,
+“through all these dreadful weeks.”</p>
+
+<p>“I am glad,” she replied, “that I could be of service
+to you.” But the aggressive note in her voice was
+gone, and her eyes were turned from him.</p>
+
+<p>He reached over and took her hands, one in each of
+his.</p>
+
+<p>“You have been my mainstay,” he said. “I could
+not have done my work without you. I could not
+have lived through it without you.”</p>
+
+<p>Extravagant, unwise, impulsive, he did not realize
+the depth of the meaning of his words. But she did.
+Her eyes met his and fell. Her cheeks paled. Her
+hands lay limp in his. It was but a moment. Some
+gentlemanly instinct moved him, some high-born spirit
+of <i lang="fr">noblesse oblige</i>, some God-given sense of what a pure-hearted
+man owes to himself. He released her hands
+and rose from his chair.</p>
+
+<p>“I must leave you,” he said, “and go to the workmen’s
+meeting at Carpenter’s Hall. It is already past
+time.” And he added: “Will you not wait and see
+Mrs. Farrar? You can help her. She is very despondent
+and wretched. Give her some cheering thought.
+I will ask her to come in.”</p>
+
+<p>He left the room, and in it he left his visitor alone.</p>
+
+<p>Five minutes is not a long time within which to
+grasp one’s soul and draw it back from the brink of
+disaster. But Ruth Tracy had always been quick and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_322"></a>[322]</span>
+courageous in meeting emergencies, and she was quick
+and courageous to-day. It was at the end of this five
+minutes that Mrs. Farrar entered the library. One
+who had known her six months before would hardly
+have recognized her now. Worn with her household
+tasks, harassed by the troubles of the time, sick at
+heart to the verge of prostration, she looked it all. Her
+face was gray, her cheeks were sunken, her lips were
+colorless, deep shadows rested under her eyes inflamed
+by much weeping.</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Farrar told me,” she said, “that you wished to
+see me.”</p>
+
+<p>“Only to say to you,” replied Ruth, remembering
+her instructions, “that better times are coming; that
+the clouds will soon roll by.”</p>
+
+<p>“You only say that to try to comfort me,” was the
+response. “You do not really believe it in your heart.”</p>
+
+<p>“But things cannot go on this way forever, Mrs.
+Farrar. Even if the climax has not yet been reached
+it must come soon. April is almost here, and warmer
+weather. Under sunny skies the men will find more
+work to do; there will be less suffering in their families.”</p>
+
+<p>“I am not thinking about the men and their families,
+Miss Tracy. I am thinking about myself, and my
+children, and Mr. Farrar.”</p>
+
+<p>“I know. It has been dreadful. But you have
+been very patient. And Mr. Farrar has been a hero.
+And things are going to be better.”</p>
+
+<p>“No, I haven’t been patient. I haven’t reconciled
+myself to the situation at all. I have been placed in a
+most cruel position. I suppose Mr. Farrar is right. I
+know he must be right, because he is a good man. But
+if only it could have been done without making me
+suffer so!”</p>
+
+<p>She put her handkerchief to her eyes to dry the
+ready tears. Tears had come so freely and so frequently
+in these last days.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_323"></a>[323]</span></p>
+
+<p>Ruth, moved with deep pity, crossed the room, and
+sat by her, and took her hand in both of her own.</p>
+
+<p>“I am so sorry for you,” she said; “so sorry. But
+you know Mr. Farrar could not have done otherwise
+than he has done without belittling his calling as a
+minister. And you, as his wife, must try to forget
+yourself and your troubles, and help and comfort and
+encourage him.”</p>
+
+<p>“I can’t, Miss Tracy. It’s impossible. I lack both
+the strength and the ability. I haven’t what he calls
+‘the vision.’ I haven’t any of the qualities that fit a
+woman to be a minister’s wife, and he knows it, and he
+has told me so.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mrs. Farrar, you must be mistaken. Surely he
+would not——”</p>
+
+<p>“No, I am not mistaken. It’s all true. He knows
+I am utterly incapable, and he treats me accordingly.
+He never consults me about his work or his plans. He
+doesn’t even mention them to me any more. I don’t
+blame him. He knows it would be useless. I can’t
+understand them, and I can’t understand him nor sympathize
+with any of his views. I’m only a drag on him—a
+burden. It would be so much better if I were entirely
+out of his way.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mrs. Farrar! You must not talk so.”</p>
+
+<p>“But it’s true. And I shall be out of his way. I
+can’t endure a life like this. I shall die. I hope, for
+his sake, that I shall die soon. Then he will be free to
+marry one who will understand him, and sympathize
+with him, and be a companion to him as well as a wife.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mrs. Farrar! You are beside yourself. You have
+brooded too much over your troubles. You have been
+left too much alone. You must come oftener to see
+me, and I will come oftener to the rectory.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. That will please Mr. Farrar. He depends so
+much upon you. You are his mainstay. He could not
+have done his work without you. I doubt if he could
+have lived through all this without you, Miss Tracy.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_324"></a>[324]</span></p>
+
+<p>This echo of the rector’s words fell upon the girl’s
+brain like hammer blows on an anvil. She felt herself
+growing weak, unsteady, at a loss how to reply. With
+a great effort she pulled herself together, and at last
+she said, unconscious echo of her own words spoken to
+the rector:</p>
+
+<p>“I am glad to have been of service to Mr. Farrar.”
+Then, gathering still greater self-control, she added:
+“But now I want to do even more for you, because I
+feel that yours is the greater need.”</p>
+
+<p>And the woman replied:</p>
+
+<p>“The greatest service you can do for me is to be
+good to my children after I am gone.”</p>
+
+<p>“But, Mrs. Farrar, you are not going to die. It—it’s
+absurd!”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes. I am going to die. I’ve thought it all
+out. I’m going to die, and you are going to marry
+Mr. Farrar.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mrs. Farrar!”</p>
+
+<p>The girl sprang to her feet and put her hands before
+her eyes, shocked at this full revelation of the other
+woman’s mind.</p>
+
+<p>The minister’s wife went on mechanically:</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I don’t charge you with having planned it in
+advance. You are too good to do that, and he is too
+loyal to me. But you are going to marry him, nevertheless,
+and it will be an ideal marriage. You will
+make him a perfect wife——”</p>
+
+<p>“Mrs. Farrar, stop! You must not say such things!
+You are wild!”</p>
+
+<p>Ruth’s face was scarlet, and her eyes were wide with
+horror. But Mrs. Farrar would not stop.</p>
+
+<p>“You will make him a perfect wife,” she repeated.
+“You are in such close accord. He will be very fond
+of you, and you will both be very happy; very happy!”</p>
+
+<p>“Stop! I’ll not listen to you!” The girl put both
+hands to her ears and backed away. “I’ll not listen
+to you,” she repeated. “I’ll not stay!”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_325"></a>[325]</span></p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Farrar rose from her chair and followed her
+guest toward the door.</p>
+
+<p>“There’s only one thing I want to ask of you besides
+being good to my children after I am gone, and that is
+that you will not take Mr. Farrar’s love away from me
+during the little while that I shall live.” She held out
+her hands imploringly, and her voice rose in a passion
+of entreaty: “If you only knew how I have loved him,
+and what he has been to me, and how I want him for
+just this little while——”</p>
+
+<p>But her guest had gone. Shocked, humiliated, terrified,
+she had turned her back to the beseeching woman,
+and had fled through the hall, out at the door, and
+down the steps to the walk and to the street. She
+pulled close the thick veil that had shielded her face from
+the March wind, so that it might also shield it from the
+gaze of the people whom she should meet, and hurried,
+with ever-increasing consternation, toward her home.</p>
+
+<p>What had happened? What had she done? Of
+what had she been guilty? Whose fault was it that
+this dreadful thing had come to pass? Vivid, soul-searching
+questions and thoughts tumbled tumultuously
+through her brain. Memories of the last half year
+came flooding back into her mind. Talks, confidences,
+sympathies, greetings and farewells, the touch of his
+hands on hers that day, the look in his eyes, in her
+own heart the emotion that she could not, and dared
+not attempt to define. And the wider her thought
+went, the more deeply she searched herself, the redder
+grew the blush of shame upon her cheeks, the more intolerable
+became her burden of humiliation. And always,
+in her mental vision, stood that distracted woman,
+with the gray face and beseeching eyes, and white lips
+moving with words that no wife should have spoken,
+and no other woman should have heard.</p>
+
+<p>At the foot of the broad street that leads up to
+Fountain Park she met Philip Westgate. She would
+have passed him by, but he blocked her path.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_326"></a>[326]</span></p>
+
+<p>“I have just come from your home,” he said.
+“There is something I want to tell you. May I walk
+back there with you?”</p>
+
+<p>“I can’t see you to-day,” she replied. “I am too
+tired to talk, or to listen.”</p>
+
+<p>“It will take but a minute. It is important.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then tell it to me here.”</p>
+
+<p>But she did not stop. She walked on and he walked
+with her.</p>
+
+<p>“I have no right to interfere,” he said, “save the
+right that any man has to try to prevent disaster to a
+friend.”</p>
+
+<p>“I understand. Go on. What is it you wish to say
+to me?”</p>
+
+<p>“This—that you are wearing yourself out, body and
+mind, in a cause that is utterly unworthy of you. The
+sacrifice is not only deplorable, it is useless.”</p>
+
+<p>“You have told me that before. But I have been
+doing God’s work among the poor, Philip, while you
+and those who believe as you do have hindered and
+crippled and made almost useless what might have
+been the most powerful instrumentality in the city for
+their relief.”</p>
+
+<p>He did not resent her criticism, nor did he make any
+effort to defend himself. His thought was only of her.</p>
+
+<p>“I am not chiding you,” he said, “for what you
+have done in the name of charity. You have been a
+good angel to those in distress. In everything—I say
+in everything—you have acted from the noblest of
+motives, with the purest of hearts.”</p>
+
+<p>“I have, Philip. Oh, I have! Believe me—in
+everything.”</p>
+
+<p>In her eagerness she stopped and turned toward him,
+and, beneath the thickness of her veil, he saw, by her
+face, that she was under the stress of some great emotion.</p>
+
+<p>“Beyond the shadow of a doubt,” he replied, as they
+walked on. “But you have been unwise; misguided.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_327"></a>[327]</span>
+You have thrown in your fortunes with an impractical
+zealot, and he has led you into dangerous paths. I
+want to rescue you. That is my mission to you to-day.”</p>
+
+<p>“To rescue me? From what?”</p>
+
+<p>“From the disaster that is bound very soon to overtake
+the rector of Christ Church and all his visionary
+schemes. From the gossip of evil-minded persons who
+have linked your name with his.”</p>
+
+<p>“Philip!”</p>
+
+<p>“Forgive me! I had to say it. There was no one
+else to tell you.”</p>
+
+<p>“Philip! Have you believed it of me?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, dear, no.” He dropped into the old, affectionate
+way of speaking to her, but she did not dream of
+chiding him. “You have been absolutely blameless,”
+he continued. “I have already told you so. But it is
+time now for you to stop and count the cost. I do not
+ask you to do it for my sake. I ask you to do it for
+your own; for the sake of your father who grieves
+over you; for the sake of your mother who is almost
+distracted.”</p>
+
+<p>She did not answer his appeal; perhaps she did not
+hear it; but she questioned him again:</p>
+
+<p>“Philip, do you charge Mr. Farrar with any evil
+thought or motive?”</p>
+
+<p>Even as she spoke her cheeks were reddened anew
+from the memories of the hour just passed.</p>
+
+<p>“I am here to save you,” he replied, “not to condemn
+him.”</p>
+
+<p>“But I want an answer. Has he been guilty of anything,
+within your knowledge, unbecoming a minister
+and a gentleman?”</p>
+
+<p>“I am not here to smirch his reputation.”</p>
+
+<p>“What is it that he has done?”</p>
+
+<p>“I do not care to tell you.”</p>
+
+<p>“That is cowardly, Philip. I have a right to know.
+If your solicitude for me is genuine you will tell me.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_328"></a>[328]</span>
+If this man has been evil either in heart or conduct I
+must know it.”</p>
+
+<p>The hour of Westgate’s temptation had come.
+Against her peremptory demand, against his own
+fierce desire to justify himself in the eyes of the
+woman whom he loved, arose the gentleman’s instinct
+to speak no evil of another, to hold sacred the knowledge
+with which the rector had frankly intrusted
+him. And yet—could any time be more opportune,
+could any occasion be more appropriate than this to
+smash the idol which this woman had been worshiping
+to her own destruction? He looked into her
+eyes and was silent. They had reached the foot of the
+steps leading up to her door. She turned, grasped an
+ornament carved into the stone of the newel-post and
+faced him insistently.</p>
+
+<p>“Philip! Speak to me. Tell me what you know.”</p>
+
+<p>“I will not tell you, Ruth.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why not?”</p>
+
+<p>“Because I respect myself, and I love you.”</p>
+
+<p>“You love me, and yet you come to me with the defaming
+gossip of the town, and when I ask you for
+facts that I may defend myself, you will not give them
+to me. You have entered into a conspiracy with him
+and his wife to wreck my peace of mind, and I shall
+end by hating all three of you.”</p>
+
+<p>She swept up the steps to her door; but when she
+reached it, some sudden wave of contrition, some dim
+realization of his manly self-restraint, entered her heart,
+and she turned and called him back, for he had already
+started away. She hurried down to meet him, and
+held out her hand, and he grasped it in both of his.</p>
+
+<p>“Philip,” she said, “forgive me! Such dreadful
+things have happened to-day that I am beside myself.
+Do not remember what I have said. Remember only
+that I—am grateful—to you.”</p>
+
+<p>Through the thick folds of her veil he saw that her
+eyes were filled with tears. He lifted her hand to his<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_329"></a>[329]</span>
+lips and, unabashed by the light of day or the peopled
+street, he kissed it. She made no sign of disapproval,
+but she drew her hand slowly from his grasp, turned
+again, ran up the steps, entered at her door and closed
+it, and left him standing, thrilled and amazed, in the
+center of the walk.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_330"></a>[330]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX<br>
+<small>THE STORM BREAKS</small></h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>The meeting to which the rector of Christ Church
+went from his interview with Ruth Tracy was a meeting
+of the Malleson Manufacturing Company’s striking
+workmen. It had been called by the strike committee
+for the purpose of submitting to the men the question
+of the advisability of calling off the strike. Many of
+the workers were in favor of an immediate and unconditional
+surrender. They felt that the limit of suffering
+had been reached, and that the only hope of relief
+lay in a complete abandonment of the fight, now, before
+new men should be taken into the works, and the
+bad blood aroused thereby should lead to disorder, and
+the permanent disbarment of the old men from the
+company’s employ. For, notwithstanding Richard
+Malleson’s declaration that he would not take any of
+them back no matter how they came, each one of them
+felt that the president might listen to his individual
+appeal.</p>
+
+<p>On the other hand there were those who believed
+that the threatened opening of the plant with imported
+strike-breakers was but a bluff put forth to break their
+ranks and to force them into submission, and that, if
+they could hold out for ten days more, the strike would
+be won. As for imported labor, if it came it would be
+given short shrift. Scabs were always cowards, and a
+proper show of determination on the part of the men
+would soon send the rats scurrying to their holes. Besides,
+Richard Malleson needed the old men as much as
+they needed him. He was on the point of financial<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_331"></a>[331]</span>
+disaster, and his only salvation was to take back all of
+his employees on their own terms.</p>
+
+<p>The differences between the two wings of the strikers
+were sharp and serious. The clash of ideas was grave
+and threatening. At the head of those who were in
+favor of yielding was Lamar. Indeed it was he who
+had skilfully worked up so powerful a sentiment for
+surrender. Leading the opposition was Bricky Hoover,
+the one hero of the strike, who, by crude logic and
+individual appeal, was still holding the minority in line.</p>
+
+<p>All day the battle of opinion had raged. Bad blood
+had been aroused. Quarrels were frequent. In some
+cases blows had been exchanged.</p>
+
+<p>It was, therefore, an excited and an impatient crowd
+that gathered that afternoon in front of Carpenters’
+Hall as the hour for the meeting drew near. Wild
+rumors filled the air. Mr. Malleson had agreed to take
+them all back. Mr. Malleson had sworn that not one
+of them would ever again be permitted to enter his
+mills. Evictions were to begin at once. Their leaders
+had sold them out. Three hundred strike-breakers
+were already inside the plant; more were on the way.
+If any force was used on the new men the guards and
+deputies had been instructed to shoot to kill. These,
+and a hundred other stories, false and true, floated constantly
+back and forth through the moving and gesticulating
+crowd.</p>
+
+<p>It was well that the crowd kept moving, and gesticulating
+too for that matter, for the late March day
+had brought keen winds and flurries of snow, and comfort
+was not to be had by standing motionless in the
+street.</p>
+
+<p>It was past the hour for the meeting, and the doors of
+the hall had not yet been opened. That was inexcusable.
+The men demanded that they be permitted to
+enter in order that they might at least keep warm.
+They struggled with each other for places near the
+steps. Then word came that the proprietor of the hall<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_332"></a>[332]</span>
+had refused them entrance. One said that it was because
+the rent had not been paid in advance. Another
+said that the owners of the property were afraid there
+would be violence in the meeting, and the destruction
+of furniture. Still another called attention to the fact
+that the building was owned by Mr. Hughes and
+Colonel Boston, both of whom were directors of the
+Malleson Manufacturing Company. At this a few of
+the hot-headed ones were for smashing in the doors and
+taking possession anyway. It was a crime, they said,
+for any one to keep them standing in the street on a day
+like this. What unwise counsels might have prevailed
+will never be known, for, suddenly, a strong and penetrating
+voice rang out above the tumult. It was the
+voice of the rector of Christ Church. He was standing
+on the steps leading to the entrance door, and was inviting
+them to hold their meeting in the parish hall of
+his church, only five blocks away. He had learned of
+their predicament, had taken pity on them, and, moved
+by a generous impulse, was offering them shelter under
+a roof which truly had never covered such an audience
+as this. He bade them follow him. Some of them did
+so gladly, applauding his generosity as they went.
+Others fell into line sullenly and hesitatingly, seeing in
+the invitation only a bid, on the part of the Church, for
+the favor of the laboring masses. A few refused to go
+at all; declaring that they would perish rather than
+hold their meeting under the auspices or by grace of a
+Church the very shadow of whose spire was hateful to
+them. But, for the most part, they went along. A
+sense of decorum fell upon them as they entered the
+doors of the parish hall. They removed their caps,
+took their seats quietly, and awaited the presentation
+of the issues which they were to decide.</p>
+
+<p>The meeting was called to order by the president of
+their local union who stated briefly the purpose of the
+gathering, and then called for the report of the committee
+that had last visited the president of the Malleson<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_333"></a>[333]</span>
+Manufacturing Company. There was little in the
+report that was new to the men. Mr. Malleson had refused
+to open his mills to his former employees, on any
+terms, whether they came singly or in a body. He
+would not treat with them on any questions or under
+any conditions. He had said that they were dupes and
+fools to listen to the counsel of designing and self-seeking
+leaders who had nothing to lose and everything to
+gain by prolonging the strike. Finally, he had practically
+ordered the members of the committee from his
+room, and had warned them not to intrude again upon
+his privacy with their childish demands nor with their
+terms of surrender.</p>
+
+<p>At the conclusion of the report there were mutterings
+and hisses, and not a few bitter denunciations of
+the president and his policy, and these denunciations
+were not entirely unaccompanied by threats.</p>
+
+<p>A resolution was offered to the effect that the strike
+be declared off, and that the union officials and the
+officers of the company be notified at once of the
+action. The motion to adopt the resolution was duly
+seconded, and then the contention began anew. There
+were strong and passionate arguments both for and
+against the prolongation of the strike. Men with
+haggard faces told of the suffering that they and their
+families had endured, and begged that they might be
+permitted, without infraction of the union rules, and
+without the ignominy of being hailed and treated as
+scabs, to seek their old jobs. Others arose and appealed
+to their fellow-workmen, declaring that while they too
+had suffered, they were nevertheless ready to die in the
+last ditch in order that the dignity of labor might be
+maintained, and their rights as human beings upheld.
+It was crude oratory, but it had its effect. The tide of
+sentiment swung away from those who would bring
+the strike to a speedy end by surrender, and turned
+strongly toward those who would prolong it for the
+general and ultimate good.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_334"></a>[334]</span></p>
+
+<p>Stephen Lamar, walking delegate, sitting up in a far
+corner of the hall, surrounded by his personal adherents,
+watching the proceedings with anxious eyes,
+was quick to note the dangerous tendency that the
+meeting was taking on. He knew that he must at
+once fling himself and his personality into the controversy
+in order to stem the tide that was setting so
+strongly toward complete disaster. He had not cared
+to speak. He had not hitherto considered it necessary
+that he should do so. The situation had seemed to be
+firmly enough in his grasp. But now he felt that it
+was imperative that he should take the floor, else everything
+would be lost; and how would he ever again face
+Mary Bradley?</p>
+
+<p>When he arose there were hoarse shouts of welcome,
+and cries of “To the platform, Steve!” So he
+mounted the platform and began to speak. He reminded
+his hearers of the years of devoted service he
+had given to the cause of labor.</p>
+
+<p>Some one in the audience cried out:</p>
+
+<p>“Ye’ve been well paid for it, too.”</p>
+
+<p>He did not heed the interruption, but went on to tell
+of the superhuman efforts he had put forth to make
+this strike a success.</p>
+
+<p>“I have done all that mortal man could do,” he
+shouted, “to help you win your fight, and to relieve
+your distress. I have suffered with you.”</p>
+
+<p>“The hell you have!”</p>
+
+<p>It was the same voice that had interrupted before,
+and again the speaker disregarded it, and went vigorously
+on. He could not afford, in this emergency, to
+get into a controversy with some obscure workman on
+the floor.</p>
+
+<p>“I know all there is to know about this strike,” he
+declared. “And I know Richard Malleson and his
+board. Believe me, men, they are putting up no bluff.
+They mean what they say. They are determined to
+crush us. We are already beaten. The only thing left<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_335"></a>[335]</span>
+for us to do is to acknowledge our defeat, call off the
+strike, and give these starving men a chance to get
+honorably back to work.”</p>
+
+<p>Then came a new interruption from another source.
+Some one, back among the shadows, shouted in a shrill
+voice:</p>
+
+<p>“How much do you get for sellin’ of us out?”</p>
+
+<p>There were shouts and laughter, and then a roar of
+disapproval. Lamar was angry. He could not brook
+that insult. It struck too near home. He turned his
+face in the direction from which the voice had come.</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know who you are,” he cried, “but I do
+know that you’re a cowardly liar!”</p>
+
+<p>In the dark corner confusion reigned. The man
+with the shrill voice wanted to fight. Some of his
+fellows were willing to back him; others sought to
+restrain him. An edifying spectacle, indeed, in a
+house dedicated to the promotion of the gospel of the
+Prince of Peace. The chairman of the meeting pounded
+for order so vigorously that quiet was finally restored
+and Lamar went on with his speech.</p>
+
+<p>“If you vote down this resolution,” he said, “you
+will compel honest men to become scabs. They can’t
+continue to face freezing wives and starving children at
+your behest. They will seek their old jobs on the best
+terms they can get, and I shall not blame them. I do
+not know what will happen when the strike is declared
+off; I can promise you nothing. But I do know that
+Richard Malleson cannot successfully run his mills
+without the aid of his old men. If you prolong this
+strike you will doubtless wreck the Malleson Company,
+but you yourselves will be crushed at the bottom of
+the wreck. I beg of you to make the best of a bad
+bargain, to use judgment, to take pity on your loved
+ones, to behave yourselves like reasonable men, to cry
+quits, and go to work.”</p>
+
+<p>There had been no more interruptions, but, mingled
+with the applause that followed Lamar to his seat,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_336"></a>[336]</span>
+there were shouts of disapproval, and mutterings of
+anger. Some one, by way of excuse for him, declared
+that Steve had broken down, and lost his nerve. No
+one had ever before known him to acknowledge defeat.
+Persistence had been the secret of his success. But,
+doubtless, this time he was right.</p>
+
+<p>Bricky Hoover sat in the front row of seats, his body
+bent forward, his head resting in his hands, his eyes
+fixed steadfastly on a certain spot on the floor in front of
+him. No one had called on him for a speech, for no one
+had conceived that he was capable of making one. He
+was a worker, not an orator. But the shouting that
+followed Lamar’s address had not yet died down when
+he rose to his feet and began to mount the steps that
+led to the platform. He bobbed his head to the chairman,
+and then turned and faced his audience. When
+his fellow-workers saw him standing there, rubbing his
+hand awkwardly across his unkempt shock of red hair,
+they burst into laughter. Apparently the strain under
+which they were laboring was to be eased by a bit of
+comedy. He stood there with his long legs wide apart,
+his shoulders hunched up, his unsymmetrical face drawn
+into a queer, forced smile. Some one said that he had
+been drinking, and had best sit down. But others
+hailed him familiarly and shouted for a speech. He
+was there to speak, and he began.</p>
+
+<p>There were few who heard him at first; his voice
+was low, and he seemed to have difficulty in articulating
+his words. But cries of: “Louder!” “Louder!”
+brought more vigor to his throat and tongue, and soon
+the only ones who failed to hear him were those who
+would not do so.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ve been the goat,” he said, “for both sides in
+this thing. I’m through bein’ the goat. I’m goin’ to
+fight, now, on me own account. The Company picked
+me for the first victim because I’d been the loudest
+gittin’ yer rights for ye. More was to follow. If ye
+hadn’t struck they’d ’a’ been a hunderd o’ ye laid off<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_337"></a>[337]</span>
+by to-day. They was goin’ to pick ye out like cullin’s,
+an’ toss ye to the scrap-heap.”</p>
+
+<p>“Right you are, Bricky,” came a voice from the
+audience.</p>
+
+<p>“Right I am it is. Ye didn’t strike for me when it
+comes to that; ye struck for your own jobs. Ye could
+’a’ counted me out any day. Ye knew that. I told ye
+so. I wouldn’t stand in the way o’ one o’ ye. I’d ’a’
+left the town; I’d ’a’ left the country; I’d ’a’ gone an’
+hung meself to ’a’ got one man’s job back for ’im.”</p>
+
+<p>“Good boy, Bricky!”</p>
+
+<p>“Ye knew that, didn’t ye? But ye stood out like
+men, an’ they’ve starved ye like rats. They couldn’t
+’a’ treated dogs no worse ’an they’ve treated you. I
+went with the comity to see the old man. I promised
+everything. I crawled on me belly to ’im, an’—ye
+heard the report—he kicked us all out.”</p>
+
+<p>“We’ll get him yet!” came a cry from the benches.</p>
+
+<p>“Ye will if ye’ll listen to me. They say call the
+strike off an’ git out. Men, ye can’t git out that way.
+It’s death to ye if ye try it. Maybe it’s death anyway,
+I don’t know; but if it is I’ll die a-fightin’.”</p>
+
+<p>“So will I!” “And I!” “And I!”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s right! If ye fight, an’ fight like hell, ye’ll
+win. I know. They can’t run their mills with scabs.
+You won’t let ’em run their mills with scabs. I’ll
+smash the head o’ the first scab that takes my job. It
+ain’t his job; it’s mine. I’ve got a right to it. Them
+jobs down there are yours. Them machines down
+there are yours. You earned the money that bought
+’em. You’ve got a right to run ’em, an’ if ye do what
+I tell ye, ye will run ’em. The man that lays down
+now an’ lets Dick Malleson tread on ’is neck is a
+damned fool!”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s right, Bricky! Go for ’em! Give ’em
+hell!”</p>
+
+<p>The passions of the crowd, swayed by Bricky’s rude
+eloquence, were being roused to the fighting pitch.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_338"></a>[338]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” he went on, swinging his long arms, and
+opening and closing his big fists; “an’ do ye know
+what’s happenin’ to-day? A car-load o’ scabs has been
+switched into the mill-yard. I got the word when I
+come in. By six o’clock one of ’em will have your
+machine, Bill Souder, and one of ’em will have yours,
+Abe Slinsky, and one of ’em will have yours, and yours,
+and yours,” pointing his forefinger in rapid succession
+at the men who sat in front of him. His voice rose to
+a piercing height:</p>
+
+<p>“Will ye let ’em keep ’em?”</p>
+
+<p>“No!” came the answer from two hundred throats.
+“No!” “We’ll club ’em out! We’ll kill ’em!”</p>
+
+<p>Men were on their feet, shouting, gesticulating, demanding,
+swearing. Bricky’s voice rose again, high
+above the clamor.</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know what you’re goin’ to do about it,
+men; but I know what I’m goin’ to do. I’m goin’
+down, now, to see Dick Malleson. I ain’t goin’ to beg
+’im for my job; I’m goin’ to demand it, and if he don’t
+give it to me, by God! I’ll take it! And if ye’ll go
+along ye’ll have them millionaries on their knees in an
+hour’s time, a-beggin’ for mercy. Who goes?”</p>
+
+<p>“We all go! We’re fightin’ strong, an’ we’re
+fightin’ mad, an’ we’ll have our rights. Come on!”</p>
+
+<p>There was a rush for the hall doors. The sound of
+the chairman’s gavel was lost in the din. The pending
+resolution and its fate were forgotten. Men fought
+with each other in their eagerness to get to the street
+and to take up the line of march to the mills. Chairs
+were overturned. Doors were wrenched from their
+hinges. Prayer-books and hymnals and lesson-leaves
+were scattered on the floor and trampled under shuffling
+feet. Lamar, red-faced, shouting, gesticulating, tried
+to stem the torrent, but he might as well have tried to
+hold back Niagara. Some laughed at him, others cursed
+him, no one obeyed him.</p>
+
+<p>The rector of Christ Church, standing in a niche by<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_339"></a>[339]</span>
+the organ, had looked on and listened in horrified
+amazement. He saw that the hour for riot and bloodshed
+had arrived, and he made one supreme effort to
+avert the final catastrophe. He sprang to the platform
+and shouted to the mob. Men turned to see who it
+was that was speaking, and then turned away. They
+did not care to hear him. They paid no more attention
+to him than if he had been a man of straw, except that
+some of them laughed at him, some mocked him, some
+ridiculed him. His appeal for wisdom and order fell
+on deaf ears. These men had no use, to-day, for sermons
+or religion, or pious advice. What they wanted
+was action—and plenty of it.</p>
+
+<p>When he found that his effort was utterly useless,
+the rector stopped speaking and came down from the
+platform. At the foot of the steps he met Lamar, gazing,
+with frightened eyes, at the disappearing crowd.</p>
+
+<p>“Lamar,” he cried, “stop them! They’re wild!
+They’re rushing to destruction!”</p>
+
+<p>“I can’t,” replied Lamar. “No man can stop them.
+God in heaven couldn’t stop them now!”</p>
+
+<p>From Lamar’s lips the ejaculation was impious, but
+the clergyman did not stop to consider it.</p>
+
+<p>“Then come with me,” he said. “Let’s follow on
+and do what we may to prevent bloodshed and arson.”</p>
+
+<p>Lamar made no reply, but he started on in obedience
+to the request. So they went on their hopeless mission,
+servant of Christ and enemy of God together, both rejected
+by those whom they had served, hissed and
+hooted at as they made their way through crowded
+streets black with the breaking storm.</p>
+
+<p>The march of the workmen themselves was not without
+the semblance of order. But idle men on every
+corner joined them, vicious men, whose only occupation
+it was to prey upon society, fell into their ranks; hoodlums
+and hotheads, shouting their enthusiasm, went
+joyously along; the curious and sensation loving followed
+on behind in scores; even women and children<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_340"></a>[340]</span>
+mingled with the crowd that was headed ominously
+toward the mills.</p>
+
+<p>Forerunners hurried back to say that a company of
+scabs had entered the mill-yard, guarded by deputies
+armed to the teeth. The mob howled its defiance and
+derision, and pushed on.</p>
+
+<p>The entrance to the Malleson mills was at the foot of
+a narrow street. In front of the works a broad plaza
+ran, blocked at both ends by buildings of the company.
+Along this street and across this plaza the army of employees,
+in working times, made their way to and from
+their place of employment. It was down this street
+now that the crowd swept, bent on presenting and enforcing
+their demand for work. But just above where
+the way opens into the plaza, stretched from wall to wall,
+two ranks of policemen stood, shoulder to shoulder, club
+in hand, ready to repel any invasion of the property of
+the rich. The leaders of the mob, scarcely able to resist
+the pressure from behind, halted when they reached
+the line of blue.</p>
+
+<p>“What do you want?” inquired the captain of police.</p>
+
+<p>“We want to see Richard Malleson,” was the reply.</p>
+
+<p>“You can’t see him.”</p>
+
+<p>“We want our jobs.”</p>
+
+<p>“You can’t go to the mills.”</p>
+
+<p>“We want to drive out the scabs.”</p>
+
+<p>“The first man that attempts to cross this line will go
+home with a cracked skull.”</p>
+
+<p>The mob howled with disappointment and rage.
+Who said the police were not the paid and servient
+tools of capital? Whoever said so lied!</p>
+
+<p>Struggling, pushing, shouldering their way through
+the hostile crowd, the rector of Christ Church and
+Stephen Lamar got inch by inch toward the front. On
+the way down they had agreed to make one final appeal
+to Richard Malleson for peace. He alone could stay
+the red hand of riot. It was not believable that he
+would refuse.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_341"></a>[341]</span></p>
+
+<p>The captain of police recognized them, and when he
+knew what their errand was he permitted them to pass
+the lines. They started across the open plaza toward
+the front of the main building.</p>
+
+<p>“You’re going where you belong!” came the cry
+from those in the mob who saw them go. “You’ve
+sold us out, and you’re going for your pay!” “Traitors!”
+“Blacklegs!”</p>
+
+<p>All reason and judgment, all power to discriminate,
+seemed lost and swallowed up in the overwhelming
+passion of revolt that had seized upon the riotous
+crowd.</p>
+
+<p>Two guards stood at the top of the steps, one at each
+side of the office door.</p>
+
+<p>“We want to see Mr. Malleson,” said the rector.</p>
+
+<p>“You can’t see him,” was the reply. “No one is
+allowed to go in.”</p>
+
+<p>“But we must talk with him at once; it’s a matter
+of life and death.”</p>
+
+<p>The man looked at him for a moment, and then
+turned and entered the building. He came back presently
+to say that Mr. Farrar might go in, but that
+Lamar would not be admitted under any conditions.
+So the labor leader went down the steps and stood by
+the railing outside, while the rector passed in to the
+office of the company. Mr. Malleson was there with
+his counsel, Philip Westgate, a half dozen anxious
+members of his board of directors, and a few frightened
+clerks. He looked up as the rector entered.</p>
+
+<p>“Well,” he asked bluntly, “what is your errand
+to-day?”</p>
+
+<p>“I have come,” said the rector, “to try to avert
+bloodshed.”</p>
+
+<p>“And you have brought with you the club and torch
+with which you threatened me.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Malleson, this is no time for caviling. Do you
+see the mob in that street? It’s only a question of
+minutes when the police barrier will be broken down,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_342"></a>[342]</span>
+and these furious men will be at your door. There is
+but one way to avoid riot and arson and bloodshed.
+You must face these men and promise to open your
+mills to them. It is your last expedient.”</p>
+
+<p>The president of the company brought his clenched
+hand down onto the table with a bang.</p>
+
+<p>“Is this your only errand?” he asked.</p>
+
+<p>“It is.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then go back and tell the thugs and hoodlums who
+sent you here that Richard Malleson has never yet surrendered
+to a mob, and that he never will. Tell them,
+moreover, that I have armed men behind my walls,
+and that the first rioter who attempts to enter here will
+take his life in his hands.”</p>
+
+<p>“But, Mr. Malleson, that would be murder. These
+men have lost their heads. They don’t know what
+they are doing. They are wild. One word from you
+would restore their reason and prevent a tragedy.”</p>
+
+<p>“I have said my last word.”</p>
+
+<p>Some one, looking from the window, exclaimed in
+fright:</p>
+
+<p>“They’ve broken the police lines! They’re swarming
+into the plaza!”</p>
+
+<p>It was true. The pressure of the mob had broken
+down the police guard, and enraged men by the hundreds
+were pouring into the open space that faced the
+factory. They were rattling at the doors of the mill,
+hammering against the gates, demanding to be let in.
+Hoodlums were yelling; women were screaming; fists
+were beating the air.</p>
+
+<p>“Break down the door!” was the cry. “Smash the
+gates!” “Burn the mill!” “Kill the scabs!”</p>
+
+<p>Richard Malleson, standing there with white face and
+set jaws, had seen them come. So had the rector of
+Christ Church. Both of them had heard the riotous
+and savage shouts. In the breast of the capitalist only
+fierce wrath was roused; but in the breast of the
+minister anger was mingled with pity.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_343"></a>[343]</span></p>
+
+<p>“I can do nothing here,” he said. “I may still be
+able to do something out there.”</p>
+
+<p>He turned to go, but Westgate laid a hand on his
+arm.</p>
+
+<p>“You had better stay here,” he said, “where you
+will be comparatively safe. It’s a wild mess outside.
+Bricks and bullets are likely to fly soon.”</p>
+
+<p>“No matter! My place is with the men. They
+may listen to me yet.”</p>
+
+<p>“They won’t listen to any one till they get their fill
+of blood.”</p>
+
+<p>But he went out. He pushed his way down the steps
+that led from the office door to the sidewalk, down into
+the midst of pandemonium. A wild-eyed man at his
+elbow yelled:</p>
+
+<p>“Death to the scabs! Set fire to the buildings, an’
+smoke ’em all out!”</p>
+
+<p>Near by a single policeman was battling with a
+dozen frenzied rioters. They had struck his cap from
+his head and were trying to wrest his club from his
+hands.</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t play with ’im!” shouted one; “choke ’im!”</p>
+
+<p>The white face of the president of the company,
+distorted with anger, appeared for a moment at an
+office window.</p>
+
+<p>“There’s Dick Malleson!” was the cry. “He
+starves women an’ kills babies! Get a rope an’ hang
+’im!”</p>
+
+<p>Each wild and murderous sentiment was received
+with roars of approval by the bloodthirsty mob. The
+rector of Christ Church, amazed and indignant at the
+spirit of brutal savagery displayed by the men whose
+cause he had hitherto championed, determined to speak
+to them. He fought his way back up the steps to the
+office door, threw his hat from him, and faced the
+riotous multitude.</p>
+
+<p>“Men,” he shouted, “listen to me!”</p>
+
+<p>“Listen to the preacher!” yelled a man at his side.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_344"></a>[344]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Damn the preacher!” cried another. “He’s a
+traitor and a blackleg!”</p>
+
+<p>“You lie!” was the quick response; “and that
+proves it.”</p>
+
+<p>The man who had cursed the preacher doubled up
+and sank to the pavement under a blow from the other
+man’s fist. It was the swift and natural result of the
+controversy, for the spirit of violence was abroad. In
+the lull that followed the punishment the rector again
+lifted his voice.</p>
+
+<p>“Men, you are crazy. You are taking a fool’s
+revenge. You are playing into the hands of your
+enemies. Stop this ungodly riot and go to your homes
+before blood is spilt!”</p>
+
+<p>As if in defiance of his command, a brick went crashing
+through the office window at his side, and a cry,
+either of pain or fear, came from within the room.
+His heart grew hot with indignation.</p>
+
+<p>“That was a coward’s deed!” he shouted. “Shame
+on the one who did it!”</p>
+
+<p>Already other bricks, torn from a foundation newly
+laid, were flying through the air. The sound of crashing
+glass was heard from every quarter. Policemen,
+back to back, were battling furiously with the mob.</p>
+
+<p>“Pull the preacher down!” yelled a man from the
+street. “He’s no business here!”</p>
+
+<p>“Aye! Pull him down!” came the answering cry
+from a dozen throats. “He’s the tool of capital, and
+an enemy to labor!”</p>
+
+<p>But the minister was not dismayed. His voice rang
+out like the wrathful blare of a trumpet:</p>
+
+<p>“I will speak, and you must listen. In God’s
+name, men, are you mad? You’ll have blood on your
+heads——”</p>
+
+<p>“Aye! and if this brick-bat goes straight you’ll have
+blood on yours!”</p>
+
+<p>The speaker, standing in the street, took rough aim
+and hurled his missile. It found its mark. The rector<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_345"></a>[345]</span>
+of Christ Church tottered and fell, and those who stood
+near to him saw blood gush from his temple and go
+streaming down his face. A woman screamed, and
+fought her way to him as he lay sprawled along the
+steps. It was Mary Bradley. She flung herself down
+at his side. She lifted his shoulders into her lap, and
+held his head against her breast, and strove to staunch
+the blood that was pouring from his wound. She
+turned her blazing eyes on the crowd below her, a
+crowd that had grown suddenly silent as it saw the
+result of its first tragic blow.</p>
+
+<p>“Villains!” she screamed. “Murderers! You have
+killed the only man on earth who cared a pin for your
+black souls!—the only man whose love I ever craved.”</p>
+
+<p>Her cry ended in a wail. She laid her face against
+the pallid and blood-streaked face that rested on her
+bosom, and sought to find in it some sign of life. The
+guards unlocked the office door and carried the limp
+body of the minister within, taking with them, perforce,
+the woman who would not let go her hold. But,
+once inside, they tore her away, and thrust her from
+them, like a thing unclean.</p>
+
+<p>Hitherto the police, in obedience to orders, had endeavored
+to hold the rioters in check without the
+shedding of blood. But now, shocked and angered at
+the brutal assault on the rector, and taking advantage
+of the temporary lull occasioned by it, they charged
+into the mob. Firmly, furiously, with the strength of
+twice their number, they drove the rabble back. There
+was savage resistance. There were broken heads.
+There were bullets that went wild. Bleeding men lay
+prone on the pavement. Then came a relief squad,
+hammering its way in; and from each blind end of the
+plaza the rioters were forced to the center, and up the
+narrow street toward the city. Enraged, sullen, bleeding,
+carrying helpless comrades along, they were scattered
+and driven in helpless confusion to their haunts
+and homes.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_346"></a>[346]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX<br>
+<small>“BLACK AS THE PIT”</small></h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>It was Friday afternoon that the riot took place. It
+was now Sunday morning, and the first day of April.
+The sun was shining gloriously. Birds were chirping
+in the bare trees. The first springing green was giving
+life to the rectory lawn. But the rector of Christ
+Church, looking out from his window toward the
+street, neither saw nor heard these signs of the wakening
+season. The sound of the tolling church bell struck
+upon his ears. He knew that the hour for morning
+service was approaching, but the knowledge gave him
+little concern. His children were playing in the hall.
+He paid no heed to them. It was not that he was ill
+in body, but that he was sick in soul. His wound had
+been severe, but it had not placed his life in jeopardy.
+A glancing blow from a flying brick that had crashed
+through the glass panel of the door behind him had
+first laid his scalp open to the bone. He was still weak
+from the shock of the blow and from loss of blood.
+But prompt and skilful surgical attention, and a robust
+constitution, were bringing him rapidly back into his
+customary form. It was not the result of the violent
+and brutal assault upon his body from which he was
+suffering to-day; it was rather the awakening knowledge
+of what that assault implied. The toilers for
+whose sake he had dared the displeasure of the powerful,
+the oppressed for whom he had pleaded and fought,
+the poverty-stricken whose sufferings he had relieved
+with his own hands and out of his own pittance, had
+repudiated and repulsed him, and finally had stoned
+him. Could ingratitude reach greater depths? Had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_347"></a>[347]</span>
+a bitterer cup than this ever been held to the lips of
+any minister of that Christ who alone had felt the extreme
+bitterness of ingratitude?</p>
+
+<p>And yet he scarcely knew the half of what these
+toilers thought of him to-day. He had no conception
+of the strong resentment—resentment without cause
+that burned in their hearts against him. He had
+preached fairly enough indeed; but what had he
+actually done for them? He had declaimed against
+the power of capital, but capital had not loosened its
+grip on them by so much as the breadth of a hair. He
+had been charitable to them, oh, yes! and had visited
+their sick with pious consolation, and had lured them
+into unwitting friendship for him and his church, and
+had opened his parish hall to them on a March day,
+and what had been the purpose of it all? Only that
+he might betray them, at the last, into the hands of
+those tyrannical masters who had hired him, and whom
+they had repudiated once and for all. For had he not,
+when the hour came to strike the final blow for victory,
+thrown himself across their path, besought them to
+surrender to their oppressors, and when they would not,
+called them to their faces fools and cowards and murderers?
+One brick against his pious skull? He should
+have had a thousand. Curses on him and his sinister
+religion with its meaningless sop to socialism, and its
+cloven hoof hidden under its clerical robes!</p>
+
+<p>Ah! but the denunciation of the poor was as nothing
+to the condemnation of the rich. By the teaching of
+his social heresies he had led the ignorant and the
+thoughtless into an attitude toward society that was
+bound to result in violence and bloodshed, as it had
+resulted. He had disgraced the religion he was supposed
+to preach. He had degraded his Church, and
+debased his high calling. He had opened their sacred
+buildings to a profane and howling crowd. The walls
+of their parish hall had echoed with incendiary speeches,
+with appeals to the worst passions of the heart, with<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_348"></a>[348]</span>
+jeers and curses and the crack and crash of churchly
+furniture. And out from the doors of this profanated
+house had issued a riotous and bloodthirsty mob, bent
+on destroying the property if not the lives of some of
+the most law-abiding and God-fearing citizens of the
+city or the state. What degradation! What unheard
+of sacrilege!</p>
+
+<p>And in the midst and at the height of this disgraceful
+riot which he had done so much to precipitate, what
+a spectacle this discredited priest had made of himself!
+Alternately appealing to and denouncing the reckless
+mob that surrounded him, he had aroused only their
+scorn and resentment, until one of them, more daring
+than his companions, had felled the offending minister
+with a common brick. Disgusting enough, indeed!
+But that was not the worst of it; oh, by no means!
+For, as he lay sprawling and unconscious on the steps,
+surrounded by rioters and ruffians, had not a woman
+of the lower class, a socialist, an anarchist, an atheist,
+a consorter with desperate characters, a woman whose
+vulgar husband had been scarce six months dead, had
+not she rushed to his side, and embraced him, and
+kissed him, and wept over him, and shrieked to the
+crowd that he was the only man she had ever loved?</p>
+
+<p>But when they reached this dramatic climax of the
+clergyman’s degradation, the scandalized gossips spoke
+in whispers lest some one, overhearing them, should
+charge them with spreading unclean tales.</p>
+
+<p>Had the rector of Christ Church known the things
+that loose tongues were saying of him, had he known
+what had happened after he fell unconscious on the
+office steps—for no one had yet had the hardihood to
+tell him, and the newspapers, with becoming decency,
+had failed to publish the incident—would he have gone
+into his pulpit that April morning to preach to his
+people the gospel of a sinless Christ? It is not to be
+doubted. For he would have felt in his heart that he
+was guiltless and without stain, and, as yet, he had not<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_349"></a>[349]</span>
+known fear. Indeed, he had not yet acknowledged his
+defeat. He was hurt, grieved, humiliated, but not
+conquered. His spirit was not that of the Hebrew
+psalmist pouring out his soul in the de profundis. It
+was rather that of Henly’s hero thundering his pagan
+defiance at fate. The lines came into his mind now as
+he stood gazing from his window into the sunlight on
+the lawn, and brought to him a strange and unchristian
+consolation.</p>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent0">“Out of the night that covers me,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent3">Black as the pit from pole to pole,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent1">I thank whatever gods may be</div>
+    <div class="verse indent3">For my unconquerable soul.</div>
+  </div>
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent0">“In the fell clutch of circumstance</div>
+    <div class="verse indent3">I have not winced nor cried aloud.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent1">Under the bludgeonings of chance</div>
+    <div class="verse indent3">My head is bloody but unbowed.”</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p>At the hour for service he entered the church, robed
+himself, and followed the poor remnant of his choir to
+the chancel in reverent processional. But when he
+looked out upon his congregation he experienced a shock
+more painful to him than that caused by the rioter’s
+brick. There was but a handful of worshipers in the
+church. Pew after pew was empty. Great sections
+of pews were wholly devoid of occupants. Men and
+women whose devotion to the Church had led them,
+up to this time, against their inclinations, to continue
+their attendance on its services, were unwilling to-day,
+after the events of the past week, to hear the prayers
+and lessons read, or a sermon preached, by a priest
+who had so forgotten the duty and the dignity of his
+sacred calling. And of the toilers who had crowded
+the pews and overflowed into the aisles scarcely more
+than a month before, only a beggarly few were here
+to-day. Rich and poor alike had deserted and repudiated
+him. Even Ruth Tracy was not in her accustomed<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_350"></a>[350]</span>
+place, nor could his searching eyes discover her anywhere
+in the church. Mary Bradley, too, was absent.
+Had both these women, from whom he had drawn so
+much comfort and inspiration in the past, on whom he
+had leaned in absolute confidence, of whose supreme
+loyalty he had never had the shadow of a doubt; had
+they too fallen by the wayside, too weak and skeptical
+to follow him to the end of the heaven-ordained path
+he had chosen to tread? Would God Almighty be
+the next to desert him?</p>
+
+<p>For the first time in all his hapless crusade his heart
+began to fail him, a strange and insidious weakness,
+crept in upon him. His hand trembled as he lifted the
+book and read:</p>
+
+<p>“The Lord is in His holy temple. Let all the earth
+keep silence before Him.”</p>
+
+<p>The sound of his voice came back to him in dull
+echoes from the waste of vacant pews.</p>
+
+<p>“Dearly beloved brethren, the Scripture moveth us
+in sundry places——” His voice failed him, and he
+paused. But it was only for a moment. With stern
+resolution he fought back his weakness, gathered new
+strength, and went on with his service.</p>
+
+<p>His sermon that morning—he had prepared it early
+the preceding week—was based upon the parable of
+the householder and the tares.</p>
+
+<p>“God help us,” he said in closing, “if we have mistaken
+the command of our Lord, and have gone out to
+gather up the tares, and, inadvertently and foolishly,
+have rooted up also the wheat with them. It were
+doubtless better that they should have grown together
+till the harvest time, when the Lord of the harvest,
+himself, would have gathered and separated them.”</p>
+
+<p>Then he sent out the alms-basins, and they came
+back to him to be presented at the altar, lined with a
+pathetic pittance.</p>
+
+<p>As it was the first Sunday in the month he proceeded
+with the administration of the Holy Communion. He<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_351"></a>[351]</span>
+uncovered the bread and the wine and set them out on
+the Lord’s table. But there were few to partake of
+them. The chancel rail which, in other days, had been
+filled many times in succession with devout communicants,
+had room enough now and much to spare to
+accommodate all who had remained for the passing of
+the consecrated elements.</p>
+
+<p>Soberly, devoutly, with a tenderness he had never
+felt before, he performed the office of the communion.
+It was only at the benediction that his heart and voice
+again failed him, and the last “Amen” came almost
+with a sob from his lips.</p>
+
+<p>After the service was ended a few of his friends,
+men and women, remained to clasp his hand, to inquire
+about his wound, and to give him sympathy and encouragement.
+They were those who had stood by him
+and would still stand by him, even though they saw
+the church falling into wreck about his feet, because
+they believed in him and loved him. But not much
+was said. The feeling on the part of both priest and
+people was too deep to find ready expression in words.
+And when they came out into the open air they found
+that dark clouds had obscured the sun, and that the
+wind was blowing cold across the flying buttresses of
+the gray stone church.</p>
+
+<p>As for Ruth Tracy, she could not have done otherwise
+than absent herself from the morning service.
+Her cheeks were still burning because of the revelation
+made to her by Mrs. Farrar, and because of Westgate’s
+disclosure of the gossip of the town. After those things
+had come the riot with its tragical incidents, the murderous
+assault on the rector, the scandalous outcry of
+Mary Bradley. What wonder that she felt the solid
+ground of faith sinking beneath her feet, and that,
+frightened and dismayed, she dared not leave her
+home, and almost feared to look the members of her
+own household in the face. And what wonder that, in
+her distress, her mind and heart turned, half-unconsciously,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_352"></a>[352]</span>
+toward the lover whom she had dismissed, as
+being the one person in all the world who had soul and
+strength enough to rescue her from herself.</p>
+
+<p>It was not greatly different with Mary Bradley. If
+the public, by reason of Friday’s incident, had learned
+the secret of her heart, it would not find her so bold
+and shameless on the Sunday following as even to be
+seen outside her door. Indeed, from the hour when
+she had been thrust out from his presence, and had
+crept moaning home with her blood-stained garments
+on her, she had held herself in strict seclusion. Lamar
+had come, demanding an interview. The old woman
+with the wrinkled face had opened the door an inch,
+and had told him that Mary would not see him. He
+came again the following day and made his demand
+insistent. The old woman obeyed her instructions.</p>
+
+<p>“You can’t see her,” she said. “Nobody can’t see
+her.”</p>
+
+<p>“But I’ve got to see her. There’s a thing I’ve got
+to settle with her.”</p>
+
+<p>“You can’t settle with her to-day.”</p>
+
+<p>“To-morrow, then?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, not to-morrow, nor next week, nor next year.
+She’s through with ye.”</p>
+
+<p>“You infernal hag! What do you know about it?
+You go tell her to come out or I’ll drag her out.”</p>
+
+<p>The old woman slammed the door in his face and
+locked and bolted it, and he went away cursing.</p>
+
+<p>There were other callers—the sympathetic, the curious,
+the evil-minded. There was one answer at the
+door to all of them: Mrs. Bradley would see no one.</p>
+
+<p>On Sunday evening, at dusk, Barry Malleson came.
+In response to his knock the old woman opened the
+door a crack.</p>
+
+<p>“You can’t see her,” she said, before Barry had even
+a chance to speak. “She don’t see nobody.”</p>
+
+<p>“Maybe,” replied Barry, deprecatingly, “if she
+knew who it was she might be willing.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_353"></a>[353]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Don’t make no difference who it is,” responded the
+old woman. “She wouldn’t see the Lord from heaven.”</p>
+
+<p>Without further ado she closed the door and bolted
+it, and Barry turned sadly away.</p>
+
+<p>But Mary Bradley, sitting alone in her room, thought
+she caught the sound of a familiar voice.</p>
+
+<p>“Mother,” she said, “was that Barry Malleson?”</p>
+
+<p>And, without waiting for a reply, she swept across
+the room, unbolted the door, flung it open and called
+out to him:</p>
+
+<p>“Barry!”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, Mary.”</p>
+
+<p>“Come back! I want you.”</p>
+
+<p>He came gladly. She took him into the little sitting-room.
+The shades at the windows were drawn close,
+and the lamp on the table burned dimly. Barry
+remembered the time when he came there and saw,
+through a partly opened doorway, the sheeted body of
+John Bradley lying in an adjoining room. It was not
+a pleasant memory.</p>
+
+<p>In the half-light of the place the woman’s face looked
+ghastly. Perhaps it was due to the way in which the
+shadows fell on it. Her eyes were still large and luminous
+indeed, but under them were dark crescents, and
+the fine curve of her lips was lost in a pathetic droop.
+Barry, looking on her, pitied her.</p>
+
+<p>“I didn’t come to bother you,” he said. “I just
+wanted to see you. I wanted to tell you——”</p>
+
+<p>She interrupted him: “I know. You are so good.
+I don’t deserve it. I couldn’t blame you if you hated
+me.”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t hate you, Mary. I love you. I don’t care
+what they say. I don’t care what you said on the
+office steps that day. I love you.”</p>
+
+<p>“You mustn’t talk that way any more, Barry. I
+mustn’t let you. I ought never to have let you talk
+that way, or think that way. I did you a wrong. In
+my eagerness for revenge on others I did you a great<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_354"></a>[354]</span>
+wrong. I am sorry now. It was wicked in me to
+deceive you.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, that’s what they say to me. They always
+told me you were deceiving me. It doesn’t matter if
+you were. I harbor no resentment nor jealousy. I’ll
+start in all over again. I’ll begin my courtship anew,
+if you’ll let me. And I’ll teach you to outlive your
+love for the other fellow. That’s what I came to tell
+you to-night.”</p>
+
+<p>“Barry, you have a heart of gold.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. You know that other fellow is impossible,
+Mary. He has a wife and children. And he’s a good
+man. No better man ever lived.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s true, Barry. Oh, that’s very true. He’s
+too good to have been made the victim of my reckless
+folly. But I thought they had killed him. I thought
+they had killed him, and I was wild. I know he
+wasn’t killed, but I haven’t heard from him for two
+days. The suspense has been terrible. Barry, tell me
+what you know about him. Have you seen him?”</p>
+
+<p>Her hands, lying on the table, were clasped tightly
+together, and she looked across at him as though she
+were ready to devour his anticipated words.</p>
+
+<p>“Why, yes,” replied Barry. “I went to see him
+Saturday. He had a bad wound on his head, but the
+doctor fixed him up all right, and he’ll get over it in a
+few days. In fact he held service yesterday as usual.”</p>
+
+<p>She gave a great sigh of relief.</p>
+
+<p>“I’m so glad!” she exclaimed, and repeated: “I’m
+so glad!”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t think,” added Barry, “that the brick-bat
+hurt him nearly as much as the fact that it came from
+the ranks of those whom he had befriended.”</p>
+
+<p>“I know. They were cowards; ingrates! They
+had murder in their hearts. As for me I’m through
+with them—forever.”</p>
+
+<p>The old blaze of indignation came into her eyes, and
+the ghost of a flame crept into her cheeks.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_355"></a>[355]</span></p>
+
+<p>“I’m beginning to feel the same way about it,” replied
+Barry. “You know I can’t stand for what those
+fellows did to Farrar.”</p>
+
+<p>Her mind turned to another phase of the catastrophe.</p>
+
+<p>“Barry,” she asked, “does he know——” She
+paused, but he divined the question that was in her
+thought.</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t believe,” he replied, “that he knows a
+thing. He was knocked insensible, and there isn’t anybody
+who would go and tell him such a thing—unless
+it might be——”</p>
+
+<p>“Who?”</p>
+
+<p>“Jane Chichester.”</p>
+
+<p>After that, for a moment, neither Mrs. Bradley nor
+her visitor spoke. Both appeared to be deeply immersed
+in thought. Finally the woman looked up at
+him.</p>
+
+<p>“Barry,” she said, “I’m going away.”</p>
+
+<p>“Going away?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. I can’t stay here. It’s impossible. I must
+go. For his sake I must go. I’ve thought it all out.
+I’ve begun to get ready.”</p>
+
+<p>“When are you going?”</p>
+
+<p>“To-morrow, maybe. Next day, surely. I shall slip
+quietly away. No one but you will know it till after
+I’ve gone.”</p>
+
+<p>“Where are you going?”</p>
+
+<p>“Out to my brother Jim’s ranch. He has written
+for mother and me to come to him. We’ll go now.”</p>
+
+<p>“And I’ll go with you.”</p>
+
+<p>“You must not do that, Barry.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then I’ll come later.”</p>
+
+<p>“No, Barry. I would only destroy your peace of
+mind and all your opportunities. Some day, very soon
+I hope, this dreadful trouble will be over, and then
+you’ll get back into the old life again, and be happy.”</p>
+
+<p>“I shall never be happy without you.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes, you will. You will forget me. You<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_356"></a>[356]</span>
+must forget me. I have been a traitor to you. I have
+been willing to sacrifice you to satisfy a passion for
+revenge. I have used you as a mere instrument to
+carry out my desires. I can atone for my wickedness
+only in one way: by compelling you to blot me out of
+your memory.”</p>
+
+<p>Barry looked at her in dumb incredulity. He had
+no conception of what lay in her mind, he could not
+fathom the meaning of the words she spoke to him.
+After a moment he said:</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know anything about it, Mary. I don’t
+understand it at all. I only know that if you go away
+and leave me—like that, it will break my heart.”</p>
+
+<p>She reached across the table and took both his hands
+in hers, as she had done once in her office in the Potter
+Building, and she looked into his eyes with a look
+vastly more tender and confident than she had given
+him on that day.</p>
+
+<p>“Barry,” she said, “you believe in me?”</p>
+
+<p>“With all my heart.”</p>
+
+<p>“And you believe I am trying to do what is best for
+both of us?”</p>
+
+<p>“I suppose you are.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then, for my sake, do what I ask of you. Don’t
+follow me. Don’t try to find me. Don’t try to learn
+anything about me. And if the day or the hour should
+ever come when I feel that your true happiness can be
+promoted, even by one little jot, through any word or
+act of mine, I shall give it to you. There, you must be
+satisfied with that, Barry; you must.”</p>
+
+<p>As in the old days he had been unable to deny her
+anything she chose to ask, so now, under the spell of
+her gaze, he had no power to refuse her request. She
+rose from the table, still holding his hands in hers, and
+moved with him toward the door. He hardly knew
+that he was being led.</p>
+
+<p>“And, Barry,” she added, “you will do me one more
+favor? You have been my friend, my brother, my<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_357"></a>[357]</span>
+loyal and devoted helper in everything. You will do
+me one more favor?”</p>
+
+<p>“A hundred.”</p>
+
+<p>“If—if he should learn what I said and did that
+day, will you tell him, Barry—will you tell him that it
+is true that I love him, and that because I love him I
+have dropped out of his life forever? Will you tell
+him, Barry?”</p>
+
+<p>“Sure; I’ll tell him.”</p>
+
+<p>“Thank you! You are the dearest friend I ever had,
+the most loyal and unselfish. There, good-night!”</p>
+
+<p>She released his hands, put her arms up about his
+neck, drew down his face to hers, and kissed him.</p>
+
+<p>“There,” she said again, “good-night! Good-bye!”</p>
+
+<p>Amazed, thrilled, speechless, Barry found himself on
+the porch of the house, the door closed behind him,
+darkness, silence and the distant lights of the city before
+him as he stood.</p>
+
+<p>Back of the closed door, again locked and bolted,
+Mary Bradley resumed her preparation for flight.
+Emotions, whispering and thundering by turns, followed
+each other in quick succession across her mind.
+Ah, but they were right who charged her with having
+a romantic fondness for the minister! It was more
+than a fondness. It was the one blinding passion of
+her pinched and sunless life, and it mattered little to
+her now who knew it. Time was when she had hoped,
+in some unknown way, in some ideal social state, by
+means of which she had but a dim and dream-driven
+conception, to gratify her longing. That was when,
+as a modern, scouting law, flouting religion, decrying
+the social order, she had deluded herself with the belief
+that she had a moral right to seek happiness where she
+could find it. Born in penury, reared to toil, trained
+to godlessness, steeped in a philosophy that taught her
+that love should never be restrained by man-made
+barriers, she had had neither the will nor the conscience
+to curb or master her imperious desire. But<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_358"></a>[358]</span>
+now the end had come. The cup from which she
+would have drunk had been struck from her lips. It
+lay shattered at her feet, the red wine spilled and lost.
+So she must take herself away, out of his life. Not
+that she loved him less, but rather more; and so, loving
+him more, she was ready, for his sake, to sacrifice
+herself in order that reproach might never again fall
+upon him.</p>
+
+<p>Through half the night, toiling and tempest-driven,
+she prepared for her departure. But when Monday
+came the desire to linger for yet another day overpowered
+her will, and she yielded. She ate little, slept
+little, talked little, but moved unceasingly about her
+narrow rooms. To the queries and protests and misgivings
+of her querulous old mother she turned, for
+the most part, a deaf ear. At dusk, on Monday evening,
+as if through some sudden impulse, she put on her
+hat and coat.</p>
+
+<p>“Where you goin’?” inquired the old woman.</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know, mother.”</p>
+
+<p>“How long you goin’ to be gone?”</p>
+
+<p>“A few minutes maybe; maybe forever.”</p>
+
+<p>“You talk queer; you act queer. I don’t want you
+to go out.”</p>
+
+<p>“No harm will come to me, mother.”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know about that. You might meet Steve.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m not afraid of him.”</p>
+
+<p>“And if you meet him he might kill ye.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mother, you’re crazy.”</p>
+
+<p>She bent over and kissed the wrinkled old face,
+unbolted the door, and went out into the night. The
+full moon was rising. Houses where poverty dwelt
+and desolation reigned were gilded on the east by the
+softest and most beautiful of all lights that ever rest on
+the dwelling-places of men. Westerly the shadows
+were deep and forbidding. Cloaked and veiled, the
+woman moved alone along the deserted street. Near
+the foot of the hill she reached the lane that led to the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_359"></a>[359]</span>
+foot-bridge across the stream above the mill. She
+turned in at the entrance and came presently to the
+bridge. She stood by the railing and looked out across
+the moonlit roofs of the factory buildings to the twinkling
+lights of the city that lay below her. Her eyes
+saw them, indeed, but to her mind they were invisible.
+It was on this bridge that she had once felt the
+touch and pressure of his supporting arm. And thereafter
+life had held no dearer hope for her than that she
+might once again experience such exultant joy. The
+very memory of it was sweeter than stolen waters on
+the lips of youth. After a few minutes she passed on,
+retracing, street after street, the path by which they
+had come that night. Midway of a certain block she
+paused. It was here that he had met her. But she
+did not turn back. She continued her journey until
+she reached Ruth Tracy’s door. Not that she thought
+of entering here; she had no desire to do that. But it
+was here that he had found comfort and help in his
+arduous work, and so the very place was precious in
+her sight. It had never occurred to her to be jealous
+of Ruth Tracy. She had never conceived that the
+rector could stain his soul by falling in love with any
+other woman. But it came into her mind now, suddenly,
+that if her own desire for his love had been
+fulfilled, he would have proved himself equally as
+weak and wicked as though his affection had been
+centered on another than herself; some woman not his
+wife. Perhaps his God had saved him from debasement.
+Perhaps her passion for him, even though he
+should know of it, would excite in him only pity and
+disgust.</p>
+
+<p>She did not tarry at the Tracy house, but turned
+back at once toward the center of the city. The warm,
+clear night had brought many people into the streets.
+It was not a careless nor a merry crowd. Sober and
+sullen looking men stood listlessly on corners, or strolled
+aimlessly along the pavement. Sad-eyed women, with<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_360"></a>[360]</span>
+shawls covering their heads, passed by. Children,
+thinly clad, with soiled faces and stockingless feet,
+gazed hungrily in at the shop windows. She knew
+many of these people by sight and name, but she did
+not stop to speak to any of them, and, heavily veiled
+as she was, they did not recognize her.</p>
+
+<p>At the corner by the Silver Star saloon she met
+Stephen Lamar. Hoping that he would not recognize
+her she bowed her head and hurried on. But he was
+not to be deceived nor passed by. He thrust himself
+across her path.</p>
+
+<p>“Wait!” he said; “I want a word with you.”</p>
+
+<p>“I can’t wait,” she replied. “I am in haste. I have
+an errand to do.”</p>
+
+<p>“You have no errand half so important as is my
+business with you.”</p>
+
+<p>“But I don’t choose to talk with you.”</p>
+
+<p>She made as if to pass on, but again he blocked her
+path.</p>
+
+<p>“I know you don’t,” he replied, “but I choose to
+talk with you, and I’m going to do it—now.”</p>
+
+<p>His voice rose at the end, and he moved nearer to
+her. It was plain that he was both angry and determined.
+It was plain too that he had been drinking.
+His utterance was hoarse and thick, and he slurred an
+occasional word, as half-drunken men do. The controversy
+attracted the attention of people passing by,
+and they stopped to look and listen. She dreaded a
+scene. It would doubtless be wiser to humor him.</p>
+
+<p>“Very well,” she said. “You may walk with me.
+I am going toward home.”</p>
+
+<p>“No,” he replied, “I’ll not walk with you. We’ll
+go in here to the Silver Star, and sit down quietly, and
+have it out alone.”</p>
+
+<p>He took her arm, turned her about, and moved with
+her to the side door of the saloon. She did not demur.
+So long as he must talk with her it might as well be
+there as elsewhere. They entered, crossed the hall,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_361"></a>[361]</span>
+and went into the private room, scene of many conferences
+between the labor leader and Bricky Hoover the
+workmen’s champion.</p>
+
+<p>An aproned waiter came in and stood at attention.</p>
+
+<p>“Bring a glass of vermouth for this lady,” said
+Lamar, “and the usual whiskey for me; and be quick
+about it.”</p>
+
+<p>He sat at the table and held his head in his hand,
+but he did not speak to her again until the drinks had
+been served.</p>
+
+<p>Now that she saw him clearly in the light of the
+hanging electric lamp, she saw that he was changed.
+His face was gray, haggard and unshaven, and when
+his blood-shot eyes were open they rolled strangely.
+It was no wonder that his appearance gave evidence of
+the strain and suffering he had undergone. He had
+passed three terrible days and nights since that moment
+when he had seen this woman pillow the blood-stained
+head of the preacher on her breast, and had heard her
+declare her love for him. He had scarcely given a
+second thought to the fact that his position as a labor-leader
+was in jeopardy if it was not entirely lost; that
+the workingmen who had followed him blindly and
+confidently in times past had now turned upon him,
+denounced him and repudiated him. But that the
+woman with whom, as the whole city knew, he was
+desperately in love should publicly, shamelessly, in his
+very presence, declare her passionate fondness for this
+discredited priest, that was more than human nature
+could endure. It roused every bitter, hateful, malignant
+passion of which his heart was capable. He had
+sought her at her home and she had refused to see him.
+The refusal had made him desperate. So, without
+sleep, without food, torn with jealousy, consumed by
+rage, his brain fired by constant and deep potations, he
+had waited and watched his chance to settle with her.
+Now he had it.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_362"></a>[362]</span></p>
+
+<p>She did not drink her wine, but he drained his glass
+of whiskey at a gulp. Then he got up and went over
+and turned the key in the lock of the door leading into
+the hall.</p>
+
+<p>“Steve,” she said, “unlock that door.”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t want to be interrupted,” he explained.
+“This is a private interview.”</p>
+
+<p>“Unlock that door!”</p>
+
+<p>He looked into her eyes to see how determined she
+might be, and it was evident that he saw. The corners
+of his mouth twitched in a curious smile, but he unlocked
+the door, and came back and sat down again at
+the table opposite her.</p>
+
+<p>“Now,” she asked, “what is it that you want to say
+to me?”</p>
+
+<p>“I want to know why you treat me like a dog.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why should I treat you like a man?”</p>
+
+<p>“Because I’ve done a man’s work for you. I brought
+on this strike because you wanted it brought on. When
+you came and begged me to have it called off I moved
+heaven and earth to carry out your will, but it couldn’t
+be done. It was too late. I told you it was too late.
+But I did my best. And what happened? A riot.
+A bloody, dirty riot. I blasted my own career. These
+workingmen are through with me. They are cursing
+me to-night for a coward and a traitor. They can go
+to hell cursing for all I care. But as for you, I want
+pay for what I’ve done for you. Do you hear? I
+want my pay!”</p>
+
+<p>“What kind of pay?”</p>
+
+<p>“I want you.”</p>
+
+<p>“You can’t have me.”</p>
+
+<p>She straightened up in her chair and looked him
+resolutely in the eyes. She saw his lip working but
+no sound came from them. It was a full minute before
+he regained the use of his voice. Then he asked,
+calmly enough:</p>
+
+<p>“Why can’t I have you?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_363"></a>[363]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Because I don’t love you. No other reason is
+necessary.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll make you love me; if not to-night, then to-morrow;
+if not to-morrow, then next day. Oh, I can
+do it. You know I can do it.”</p>
+
+<p>He leaned across the table toward her and continued:</p>
+
+<p>“We’ll go away from here. This is only a pest-hole
+anyway. We’ll go away. We’ll live in luxury. Oh,
+we can do it. I have enough. These fools don’t
+know it, but I haven’t worked for ’em all these years
+just for the love o’ the thing. There’s been money
+in it.”</p>
+
+<p>He laughed a little, mechanically, as though at his
+own shrewdness, and again continued:</p>
+
+<p>“So it’s all right. You’ll go. You’ve got to go. I
+can’t live without you. I won’t live without you.”</p>
+
+<p>Again his voice rose excitedly, his mouth twitched,
+his face took on a strange and evil expression. She
+began to fear him. She decided that she must, for her
+own safety, bring the interview to a close, and do it in
+so peremptory a manner as to silence him. Rising to
+her feet she said:</p>
+
+<p>“It’s only a waste of breath to discuss it, Steve. I
+cannot and shall not do what you wish. I don’t want
+to see you again nor talk to you again. And I don’t
+want you ever again to come near me. Now, I’m
+going home.”</p>
+
+<p>“Not yet. Just a moment. It happens, for instance,
+that you’re in love with some one else?”</p>
+
+<p>“That is none of your business.”</p>
+
+<p>“By God, it is my business! Oh, I know! I saw
+you. I heard you, when you thought his damned skull
+was cracked, and you whined over him as if he were
+a sick baby. What right have you got, anyway, to
+love this married priest?”</p>
+
+<p>He was bellowing like a mad beast now; but she did
+not cower, nor tremble, nor show any sign of fear.
+In the face of danger it was her place to be resolute.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_364"></a>[364]</span></p>
+
+<p>“A right,” she answered him, “that requires no permission
+from you.”</p>
+
+<p>“You don’t deny it, then?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t deny it.”</p>
+
+<p>“And you’re not ashamed of it?”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m not ashamed of it. I glory in it.”</p>
+
+<p>He had not risen with her, but he pulled himself,
+now, unsteadily to his feet.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ve got only one answer to make to that,” he said.
+“You fondle that black-coated, white-livered priest
+just once more, and I’ll send the souls of both of you
+straight to hell.”</p>
+
+<p>“Steve, you coward, what do you mean?”</p>
+
+<p>“Mean? I mean what I say. I’ll have what belongs
+to me or I’ll kill the man that robs me, and the
+woman that lets him. He had his kisses last Friday.
+I haven’t had mine yet. But I’m going to have ’em—to-night.”</p>
+
+<p>He started toward her, staggering as he went. She
+backed away from him and tried to reach the door, but
+he blocked her path.</p>
+
+<p>“Let me pass!” she cried. “Don’t you dare to stop
+me! Don’t you dare to lay a finger on me!”</p>
+
+<p>He paid no heed to her command. He lurched forward,
+even as she spoke, and before she could escape
+him he had seized her and crushed her in his arms. She
+cried out in terror, and tried to free herself, but she
+was helpless. Half-drunken as he was, he seemed,
+nevertheless, to be possessed of maniacal strength.
+Men in the barroom adjoining heard the cry and the
+struggle, and burst into the room and released her from
+his grasp, and held her assailant while she hurried
+away. When he saw that she was gone he became
+suddenly calm, self-possessed, genial. He showed no
+resentment toward those who had caught and restrained
+him. He simulated good-nature as shrewdly and
+cleverly as do the criminal insane. His captors, now
+his companions, lent themselves readily to the deception.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_365"></a>[365]</span>
+Now that the incident was closed it was of
+small moment to them. It was not a thing of rare occurrence,
+anyway, to have the sodden hangers-on at the
+Silver Star aroused by a woman’s scream.</p>
+
+<p>So Steve went out and mingled familiarly with the
+men at the bar; laughed at their questionable jokes
+about his gallantry, tossed dice with them, drank with
+them, and bade them good-night with as much ease
+and carelessness as though his heart were not a seething
+whirlpool of murderous thought.</p>
+
+<p>As for Mary Bradley, she hastened through the
+streets toward her home, her face burning with anger
+and humiliation. If she had disliked and hated Stephen
+Lamar before, she loathed him now. Then, suddenly,
+she remembered his threat against her and the rector.
+What did he mean by it? Murder? She paused in
+her swift pace, overcome by fear. Not fear for herself.
+It mattered little what vengeance he might choose to
+inflict on her. But was the man whom she loved in
+danger? Would this desperate, drink-crazed monster
+seek to carry out his threat against the rector of Christ
+Church? Was it not her duty to warn the intended
+victim? For one moment she stood irresolute, then
+she turned in her tracks and hastened back toward the
+center of the city.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_366"></a>[366]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI<br>
+<small>THE FINAL TRAGEDY</small></h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>The rectory of Christ Church was a gloomy place
+that Monday evening. The mistress of the house was
+ill. She had been failing for weeks—slowly at first,
+but with terrible rapidity as the days wore on. Now
+the end was almost in sight. Her interview with
+Ruth Tracy on the Friday afternoon before had left
+her at the point of collapse. Then had followed the
+news of the riot. After that her husband had been
+brought home, bandaged and bloody, victim of an
+insensate mob. What wonder that she was overwhelmed,
+physically and mentally, by crowding calamities?
+When the doctor came from her room that
+Friday night he looked grave and doubtful. He had
+expected the collapse. It had been imminent for
+weeks, but the severity of it startled him. Not that
+there was any organic disease, he explained, but
+these cases of extreme nervous prostration were most
+difficult to treat. Sedatives had only a temporary
+effect; medicines of any kind would be of but little
+avail. Indeed the only real hope lay in extra-professional
+treatment, particularly along the line of mental
+suggestion. At best the prognosis of the case had little
+in it that was encouraging.</p>
+
+<p>Ruth Tracy heard of Mrs. Farrar’s serious illness,
+and sent a trained nurse at once to care for her. She
+felt that this much, at least, it was her right and her
+duty to do.</p>
+
+<p>If Sunday had been a sorrowful day in the rector’s
+household, Monday was deadening. The minister himself,
+owing to certain secondary results of his injury,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_367"></a>[367]</span>
+had been forbidden by his physician to go out. Few
+people had called at the rectory during the day. He
+had not yet heard the scandalous gossip of the town
+that connected his name with Mary Bradley’s.</p>
+
+<p>When evening came he, himself, put his children to
+bed. He heard their pathetic little prayers for their
+mother. Then he kissed them good-night, and went
+down to his study with wet eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Later on he ascended again to his wife’s chamber.
+The nurse had gone out for the moment, and he drew a
+chair up by the side of the bed and sat there. She saw
+that he had been weeping. She said:</p>
+
+<p>“Why are your eyes wet, Robert?”</p>
+
+<p>“I have been putting the children to bed,” he replied,
+“and they were praying for you. It touched me.”</p>
+
+<p>“The precious dears! You’ll be very kind to them,
+and patient with them, won’t you, Robert, after I am
+gone?”</p>
+
+<p>“You’re not going, Alice. Not for many, many
+years yet.”</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t talk that way, Robert. Please don’t. You
+know how much better it is that I should go now.
+And when you marry again——”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m going to marry you again, dear. We’re going
+to be lovers again, just as we were in the old days.”</p>
+
+<p>“But, Robert, I——”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I know. I’ve been thoughtless and inconsiderate.
+I haven’t appreciated you at your worth. But
+you’ll find me different after this. I’ve had some
+heart-searching days of late.”</p>
+
+<p>“No, Robert, you’ve been very good to me. I’ve
+often wondered how you could have been so good, for
+I’ve never been able to—to reach you. But I have
+loved you so—and the children——”</p>
+
+<p>“There, sweetheart, never mind now. Don’t talk
+any more to-night. Try to get a little sleep and rest.”</p>
+
+<p>With tender fingers he pushed back a stray lock of
+her hair, and she reached out and found his hand and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_368"></a>[368]</span>
+held it, and, lying so, with his hand clasped in both of
+hers, she fell asleep.</p>
+
+<p>When the nurse returned he released himself gently
+from her grasp and went back down-stairs. He glanced
+at the clock in the hall and saw that it was after nine.
+A deskful of neglected work awaited him in his study
+and he felt that he must try to dispose of it. At that
+moment he heard the door-bell ring, and, knowing that
+the one young and inexperienced but inexpensive maid
+now in their employ was still out, he went, himself, to
+answer it. He found Mary Bradley there. He greeted
+her cordially and ushered her into the parlor, the
+shades of which had not yet been drawn. He turned
+on the lights and placed a chair for her, for he saw, by
+her face, that she was weary and depressed.</p>
+
+<p>“I had no right to come,” she said breathlessly, “but
+I wanted——”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, you had a right to come,” he interrupted her.
+“I do not know your errand, but I am glad you came.
+There are some things I want to know that I believe
+you can tell me.”</p>
+
+<p>In her effort to fathom his meaning she forgot her
+errand.</p>
+
+<p>“What are they?” she inquired.</p>
+
+<p>“Will you tell me this?” he asked. “I have been
+thinking about it all day. You know I have been
+trying to bring religion into the lives of the men and
+women who work, and you see what a dismal failure I
+have made of it. What has been the matter? Did I
+go about it in the wrong way? You have been a
+working woman; surely you can tell me.”</p>
+
+<p>“The fault has been theirs, Mr. Farrar, not yours.”</p>
+
+<p>“But what blunder did I commit that these people
+should repudiate both me and my religion? I cannot
+understand it.”</p>
+
+<p>“You committed no blunder. They simply did not
+want religion.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why did they not want it?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_369"></a>[369]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Because it doesn’t promise them good food, and fine
+clothes, and plenty of leisure.”</p>
+
+<p>“But it gives them the promise of an eternity of
+happiness.”</p>
+
+<p>“Eternity is too far away for them. They want
+their good things in this life. They want to live their
+lives as they will, to go and come as they choose, to be
+free from rules that bind them, from laws that oppress
+them, from customs that restrain them. I, myself, have
+taught them that that is their right as human beings.”</p>
+
+<p>“And have you taught them wisely?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know. Oh, I don’t know! Who can say
+what is wise, or right, or good? Surely not I; not I!”</p>
+
+<p>She began to wring her hands in apparent self-reproach.
+She seemed so distraught that he pitied her.
+Her face was expressive of an agony that he could but
+dimly understand.</p>
+
+<p>“God forgive us,” he said, “if we have both been
+wrong. But you came to see me on some special
+errand. Pardon me for interjecting my own troubles.
+They seem to me to be mountains nigh to-night. Perhaps
+yours are even greater. How can I help you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I had almost forgotten. I came to warn you.
+You are in danger.”</p>
+
+<p>“What kind of danger is it now?”</p>
+
+<p>“A man has threatened to kill you.”</p>
+
+<p>“I am not surprised. Some of those whom I have
+tried to befriend have turned against me very bitterly.”</p>
+
+<p>“But this man has a special grievance.”</p>
+
+<p>“Who is he?”</p>
+
+<p>“Stephen Lamar.”</p>
+
+<p>“What is his special grievance?”</p>
+
+<p>“He is——” She hesitated.</p>
+
+<p>“He is what, Mrs. Bradley?”</p>
+
+<p>“He is jealous of you.”</p>
+
+<p>“On whose account?”</p>
+
+<p>“On mine.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why should he be jealous of me? Is it not Barry<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_370"></a>[370]</span>
+Malleson who is contending with him for your
+favor?”</p>
+
+<p>“I have told Barry that he must not think of me
+again.”</p>
+
+<p>“And are you then so deeply in love with Lamar?”
+He said it regretfully, almost reproachfully. He could
+not reconcile himself to the thought of a union between
+such a man as Lamar and such a woman as this.</p>
+
+<p>She drew herself up proudly. “No!” she cried.
+“I am not in love with him. I hate him! I despise
+him!”</p>
+
+<p>He stared at her in astonishment. What new mystery
+was this? What additional catastrophe was impending?
+In what fresh web of calamity was he becoming
+entangled?</p>
+
+<p>“But why,” he asked, “should Lamar be jealous of
+me? Why should he want to kill me? What have I
+done to call forth such a feeling on his part?”</p>
+
+<p>“Nothing, Mr. Farrar; nothing; nothing! I have
+done it all.”</p>
+
+<p>“What have you done?”</p>
+
+<p>“I told him a thing that angered him.”</p>
+
+<p>“What did you tell him?”</p>
+
+<p>She knew, by the look in his eyes, that he would
+brook no evasion or denial of his demand. Nor had
+she, any longer, any desire either to evade or deny.
+They were only the big things of life that mattered
+now. And this was the big thing, the tremendous
+thing of her life, and something that he had a right
+to know, and that he ought to know. She flung her
+arms wide as if to unlock her heart and let her secret
+out.</p>
+
+<p>“I told him that I loved you!” she cried. “I told
+him that I was not ashamed of it! I told him that I
+gloried in it!”</p>
+
+<p>She looked at the minister defiantly, as though
+daring him to contradict her. Her face was very
+white, and her hands were clenched and moving. He<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_371"></a>[371]</span>
+was speechless, astounded. He rose to his feet and
+stared at the woman incredulously. When, at last, he
+found his voice he said:</p>
+
+<p>“But, Mrs. Bradley, it is not true. Why did you
+say it? It can’t be true! It must not be true!”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, but it is true!” she protested. “It’s the truest
+thing that ever was or will be. And it’s because he
+knows it’s true that he wants to kill you. The coward!
+The monster!”</p>
+
+<p>Her voice had grown high and shrill. Her eyes
+flashed with alternate hate, devotion and despair. Her
+whole body was quivering with the intensity of her
+emotion. It was apparent to the rector that a point
+had been reached beyond which both questionings and
+reproof would be not only futile but disastrous. Her
+imperative need now was to be soothed and comforted.
+He passed around the table to her and laid his hand on
+her shoulder. His touch had quieted others, perhaps it
+would quiet her. His hope was not vain. Under the
+magic pressure of his hand she suddenly found her
+anger gone, and the tempest in her hot heart stilled.
+A wave of deep contrition swept in upon her, and she
+sank, penitent and sobbing, at his feet.</p>
+
+<p>“Forgive me!” she moaned. “I have been so
+wicked and so weak, and so utterly unjust to you. I
+shall not trouble you any more. I’m going away,
+where you will never see me nor hear of me again.
+But,” and she lifted her pallid, tear-wet face to his, “it
+is true, true, true that I have loved you.”</p>
+
+<p>Gently, reverently, with white-hearted courtesy, he
+bent over her, took her hands, and lifted her to her
+feet.</p>
+
+<p>“May our dear Lord look kindly on you,” he said,
+“and inspire you with that love for Him which alone
+can quiet and satisfy the unruly heart.”</p>
+
+<p>“You are—very good,” she replied; “very good!
+I will—go—now.”</p>
+
+<p>She released her hands from his and drew them<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_372"></a>[372]</span>
+across her eyes as if to banish some vision that enthralled
+her, and turned toward the door. But at the
+first step her physical strength failed her, she tottered
+and would have fallen, so limp and nerveless was she,
+had he not sprung to her side and held her to her feet.
+Once again, as on that night at the bridge, she felt the
+pressure of his arm about her. It revived her, strengthened
+her, thrilled her through with new and exultant
+life. So, supported and revivified, she moved with him
+across the room toward the hall.</p>
+
+<p>“Thank you!” she said. “It was foolish of me to
+be faint. But I am very strong now. Good-night!”</p>
+
+<p>“No,” he replied, “I cannot let you go alone. You
+are not fit. Sit here and I will call a cab, and I’ll send
+the nurse to stay with you till it comes.”</p>
+
+<p>His will was still her law and she obeyed. So he
+placed her in a chair and hurried away. But, when he
+was gone, she was seized with a sudden desire to escape—before
+he should return—before others should come
+and find her there—before her courage should utterly
+fail. She rose, hurried down the hall, pushed back the
+snap-lock of the door which she opened and closed behind
+her, went down the steps to the walk, and started
+to cross the rectory lawn to the street.</p>
+
+<p>A man stepped out from the shadows beneath the
+parlor bay, gripped her shoulder, and swung her around
+till she faced him. By the light of the full moon she
+saw that it was Stephen Lamar. His eyes were blazing
+with murderous passion. His voice, as he spoke, was
+thick and hoarse.</p>
+
+<p>“I tracked you here,” he said. “I saw you—through
+the window. I told you—if you did it once more—I’d
+kill you both. I’m going—to do it.”</p>
+
+<p>Before she could move, or speak, or scream, there
+came a flash, a report, a wisp of curling smoke; she
+staggered, fell, lay prone on the rectory lawn, and there
+she died.</p>
+
+<p>He turned and went up the steps to the door from<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_373"></a>[373]</span>
+which she had just emerged, and tried to open it, and
+found it locked. He threw his weight against it, but
+it would not yield.</p>
+
+<p>Two men, standing at the street-corner, engaged in
+conversation, heard the pistol-shot, and saw the woman
+as she fell. They ran, and met the man as he lurched
+down the rectory steps. For a moment he held them
+at bay at the point of his revolver. Then he turned
+the weapon on himself and fired two shots in quick
+succession. He fell plunging to the earth. On his
+sprawling body and distorted face the light of the full
+moon struck. But, where Mary Bradley lay, the
+shadow of the spire of Christ Church rested, like the
+shadow of the hand of a pitying God.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_374"></a>[374]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII<br>
+
+<small>AN EPISCOPAL BENEDICTION</small></h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>The tragedy was now complete. Its climax had
+been reached when two souls were thrust, unshriven,
+into the Great Presence. The city gasped and shuddered,
+and rioted in the rehearsal of strange and conflicting
+stories. But at the heart of every one of them,
+tangled in its sordid meshes, was the name of the rector
+of Christ Church. The motive for the murder of Mary
+Bradley was known of all men. If Lamar, dead by his
+own hand, had lived to shout it from the housetops, it
+could not have been better or more widely understood.
+Yet no one now charged the minister with conscious
+guilt. His life had been too open and too clean to
+make that believable. It was said of him now only
+that he had been the victim of his own deplorable
+theories and his mistaken zeal. But it was plain to
+every one that the end had been reached. His old
+parishioners, friend and foe alike, admitted and declared
+that his further ministrations at Christ Church had become
+impossible. He, himself, in an hour of forced
+calmness and deliberate thought, had reached the same
+inevitable conclusion. “Ye shall know them by their
+fruits.” The fruits of his ministry, so far as he could
+now see, had been scandal, riot, bloodshed, murder,
+suicide, a wrecked and desolated church; an unhallowed
+harvest. And the future held no hope of better things.</p>
+
+<p>For three days he wrestled with himself in agony.
+On the morning of the fourth day he boarded a train,
+bound for the see city, to meet a telegraphed appointment
+with his bishop. Twenty miles out Barry Malleson<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_375"></a>[375]</span>
+came wandering down the aisle of the car and
+caught sight of him.</p>
+
+<p>“Why, Farrar,” exclaimed Barry, “I didn’t know
+you were on the train! Come into the Pullman with
+me.”</p>
+
+<p>“No, thank you! I change at the junction, but I’d
+be glad to have you sit with me for a while.”</p>
+
+<p>Barry needed no second invitation. He dropped into
+the aisle end of the seat; but when he had settled himself
+comfortably he had nothing to say. If the rector’s
+face gave evidence of the shock and strain he had undergone,
+Barry’s countenance and manner were still
+more indicative of the intense suffering he had endured.</p>
+
+<p>“You’re going to New York?” asked the rector,
+finally.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. It doesn’t matter much. But that seems to
+be the obvious place. If I get tired of it there I’ll
+come back in a day or two, and go west. I think
+maybe a taste of ranch life might help some. But I
+can’t stay here. You know, Farrar, that’s impossible.”</p>
+
+<p>“I understand. I too must leave the city. Conditions
+here make it imperative.”</p>
+
+<p>“And where will you go?”</p>
+
+<p>“God knows! I have no plans.”</p>
+
+<p>Barry looked at his companion pityingly. In the
+midst of his own grief he had a heart of sympathy for
+the defeated and despairing rector. For a few moments
+there was silence between them. Then Barry
+spoke up again.</p>
+
+<p>“You know, Farrar, this thing has left me in a
+whirl. I feel as though I were still whirling. I try
+to stop, and get out of it, and get my head, but I can’t.
+There’s so much about it all that I don’t understand.”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t wonder. The whole thing is a terrible
+mystery.”</p>
+
+<p>“Not that I’m blaming her, you know. I couldn’t
+do that. She wasn’t to blame for anything. Why, do
+you know, I never even blamed her for being fond of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_376"></a>[376]</span>
+you. And of course I didn’t charge it up to you. Nobody
+does, Farrar. You can rest easy on that score.
+It was just one of those things that neither of you
+could help.”</p>
+
+<p>“Thank you, Barry!”</p>
+
+<p>“And that reminds me. That night when I saw her
+last—it was last Sunday; God in heaven! but it seems
+a year—well, that night she asked me to do her one
+favor. She said she was going away. She said if you
+ever found out what she said on the factory steps that
+day of the riot, I should tell you that it was true; I
+should tell you that because she loved you she was going
+to drop out of your life forever—drop out—of your
+life—forever.”</p>
+
+<p>Barry straightened himself out as he sat, thrust his
+hands into his trousers pockets, and stared hard at the
+back of the seat in front of him. Something in the
+last phrase that had left his lips had set his brain to
+whirling again. The rector laid a comforting hand on
+his knee.</p>
+
+<p>“You are very kind to tell me this,” he said. “You
+have a big and generous heart, Barry. We can each
+mourn over her fate, without entrenching on the
+domain of the other.”</p>
+
+<p>Apparently Barry did not hear him. He was still
+staring at the back of the seat, and the muscles of his
+jaws could be seen moving under the pallid skin of his
+face. But he roused himself, after a moment, and
+said:</p>
+
+<p>“I told her I would; sure I would. And then,
+Farrar, do you know what she did? Do you know?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, Barry.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well—I wouldn’t whisper it to another human
+being but you, you know that, it’s too—sacred.”</p>
+
+<p>His voice choked a little, but he went on:</p>
+
+<p>“Well—she put her arms around my neck—and
+kissed me.”</p>
+
+<p>He did not give way to tears nor manifest any of the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_377"></a>[377]</span>
+usual signs of emotion. But on his face was a look of
+awe and tenderness, as if some holy and wonderful
+vision had just been revealed to his mortal eyes.</p>
+
+<p>At the junction the rector bade him Godspeed, and
+left him to continue his journey alone. But, somehow,
+the sight and expression of Barry’s dull and simple
+grief had served to soften the harsh musings with
+which the minister’s own mind was filled.</p>
+
+<p>It was late afternoon when he reached the episcopal
+residence. A rich and pious widow, dying, had made
+testamentary provision for the erection of this beautiful
+bishop’s home, whereupon disgruntled heirs had severed
+their relations with the Church, and had sought religious
+shelter in another fold.</p>
+
+<p>The rector approached the quaintly fashioned entrance
+by a path bordered with blossoming crocuses
+and tulips, rioting in a very wantonness of color. The
+sinking sun threw a mellow, yellow light on the flowers,
+on the fresh green of the lawn, on a spreading
+maple just starting into leaf. But the minister saw
+nothing and realized nothing of the peace and beauty
+that surrounded him. His step was heavy, his eyes
+were dim, his face was the face of one who has witnessed
+horrors, and cannot shut out the sight or memory
+of them.</p>
+
+<p>The bishop was awaiting him. If he had framed
+any words of condemnation for this priest of his diocese,
+one look at the man himself drove them utterly
+and forever from his mind. At a glance he read in the
+countenance of the minister a story of suffering, of humiliation,
+of bitter and blinding defeat, that would
+have made episcopal reproof as cruel as it was unnecessary.</p>
+
+<p>He put his arm tenderly about his visitor’s shoulder
+and led him to a chair.</p>
+
+<p>“I know it all, Farrar,” he said. “What I have not
+heard and read I have easily divined. I suffer with
+you.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_378"></a>[378]</span></p>
+
+<p>If the rector heard him he paid no heed to his words.
+He was there on his own errand, his message was on
+his lips, and he must deliver it.</p>
+
+<p>“Bishop, I have come to hand back to you the shattered
+remnant of a sacred trust. I have not been unfaithful
+to it, but my administration of it has been a
+tragic failure.”</p>
+
+<p>“I know, Farrar. You have been ahead of your
+generation. You have tried to do things for which the
+world is not ready. That is the reason you have
+failed.”</p>
+
+<p>“That may be so. But it remains true, nevertheless,
+that I have wrecked my church, and have brought
+discredit on the religion of Christ. I am innocent of
+evil intention, but I am guilty of the actual failure, and
+I stand ready to suffer the penalty.”</p>
+
+<p>“My dear man, do not think too harshly of yourself.
+You have simply tried to do a beautiful and an impossible
+thing. Disaster was inevitable. You thought,
+as did the beloved of Isaiah, that you had planted your
+vineyard ‘with the choicest vine.’ And you ‘looked
+that it should bring forth grapes, and it brought forth
+wild grapes.’ It could not have done otherwise.”</p>
+
+<p>“Pardon me, Bishop, but that is what I do not yet
+understand. Why should such an unhallowed harvest,
+unbelief, scandal, riot, murder, suicide, follow on the
+preaching of the simple gospel of Christ?”</p>
+
+<p>“Ah, but it was not the simple gospel of Christ that
+you preached. Christ never concerned Himself with
+economic problems, nor with the reorganization of
+human society. There are some, I know, who affect to
+admire and reverence Him, who hold, with great show
+of learning, that His message was primarily to the
+Galilean peasants, and so to all whose necks were
+bowed under the Roman yoke, and so to all the world,
+that men should rise and scatter their oppressors, and
+establish an earthly kingdom of justice and righteousness.
+These do but pervert His teaching, and degrade<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_379"></a>[379]</span>
+His gospel. His message was wholly to the soul of
+the individual man that he should turn spiritually from
+darkness to light. And having so turned, it would
+necessarily follow that man’s material environment
+would undergo a similar beneficent change.”</p>
+
+<p>“But why should not the Church, in order to do her
+perfect work on earth, face the whole life of man,
+physical, industrial and social, as well as spiritual?”</p>
+
+<p>“Because it is not her province to transform the environment
+of men. Jesus Christ sought only to transform
+the man. He was satisfied to have the man deal
+thereafter with his own environment. Social reform is
+possible only through spiritual renewal. To have a
+new society we must first have new men. When the
+regeneration of the individual has been accomplished,
+society itself will, perforce, be regenerated, and a social
+organization that will do justice to all men will spring
+automatically into existence. I tried to make this clear
+to you that night at the Tracy house.”</p>
+
+<p>“I know. I have been too impatient to await the
+spiritual regeneration. My heart has gone out to the
+poor and churchless of my own day who are suffering
+for material and spiritual bread.”</p>
+
+<p>“Your heart does you credit. No servant of Christ
+should ignore or neglect the poor. They were very
+close to Him in His lifetime. They should be special
+objects of our care in this day. But the mission of the
+Church is not alone to the poor; the message of Christ
+was to all men. You have permitted your passionate
+sympathy for the poor and the oppressed to run away
+with your judgment, to destroy your sense of proportion,
+to—there, Farrar, forgive me! I did not mean to
+scold or condemn you; it is too late for that. All I
+want to do to-day is to help you if I may.”</p>
+
+<p>“Nor did I come, Bishop, to argue my case anew,
+nor to plead justification for my conduct, nor to make
+excuses for my failures. I came to tell you that my
+service at Christ Church is at an end. The vestry<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_380"></a>[380]</span>
+holds my letter of resignation. It remained only for
+me to make acknowledgment to you as my Reverend
+Father in God, of your kindness, and patience, and
+fatherly solicitude, and to beg your forgiveness, if I
+may, for all that I have said or done that has caused
+you trouble or sorrow, or that has cast discredit on
+the Church of your love and care.”</p>
+
+<p>“You have my forgiveness without the asking,
+Farrar. It is true that I have deeply deplored the
+situation in your parish, but I have had no resentment
+toward you, because, while I have believed you to be
+mistaken, I have known you to be utterly conscientious,
+and loyal.”</p>
+
+<p>“That is true, Bishop.”</p>
+
+<p>“And in that respect you were in very different case
+from those priests who, having lost faith in certain
+vital points in the principles of our religion and the
+doctrines of our Church, have, nevertheless, insisted on
+remaining with us and preaching heterodoxy from the
+shelter of our pulpits. That, in my judgment, is not
+only ungrateful and dishonest, but borders very close
+upon downright treason. You, on the other hand, in
+all your aspirations and ambitions, have been faithful
+to the precepts of our religion and the tenets of our
+Church. For that I commend you and rejoice in you.”</p>
+
+<p>“You are very good to me, Bishop.”</p>
+
+<p>“Let me add that I have no doubt of the wisdom
+and expediency of your course in resigning your office
+as rector of Christ Church. Now then; what are your
+plans?”</p>
+
+<p>“I have none. I have thought nothing out except
+that I must go away. My wife is ill. The burden of
+these things has been too great for her to bear. I do
+not know how soon she can be moved. But when I
+told her, last night, that we would go elsewhere, the
+news seemed to give her new life. I believe that in
+some other and distant environment she will find her
+lost health and her old happiness.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_381"></a>[381]</span></p>
+
+<p>“I pray that it may be so. But you must not leave
+the ministry of the Church, Farrar. We need such
+men as you. You are still young, but you have learned
+wisdom by sad and bitter experience. You were never
+better prepared to preach Christ’s religion than you are
+now. And some day you will come into your own.”</p>
+
+<p>The rector turned his eyes to the window and looked
+out across the lawn to the Gothic pinnacles of the
+church on which the glory of the setting sun still lay.
+It was apparent that he was in deep thought, and for
+a moment he did not reply. Then he looked back at
+the prelate.</p>
+
+<p>“Bishop,” he said, “I think it is your faith in me that
+has saved me. For days I have seen nothing before
+me but the blackness of the pit. I come here, and you,
+whom I have perhaps wronged most deeply, are most
+ready to forgive me and help me. In my own city I
+have yielded because I have been bludgeoned into it;
+but you, by your magnanimity—you bring me—to my
+knees—in true repentance.”</p>
+
+<p>He laid his arms on the table and bowed his head on
+his arms. There was no longer any doubt that he was
+not only broken, but also repentant.</p>
+
+<p>The bishop rose from his chair, crossed over to the
+penitent priest and laid his arm once more affectionately
+about his shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>“Farrar,” he said, “God bless you! I love you.”</p>
+
+<p>Underneath his hand he felt the broad shoulders
+tremble. He went on comfortingly:</p>
+
+<p>“This is not the end; it is but the beginning. You
+are going to start a new career. I have already for
+you, in my mind, an outpost of the Church, in another
+diocese, where I believe your great talent and your love
+for neglected men will lead to the establishment of a
+mighty stronghold of our religion.”</p>
+
+<p>The rector sprang to his feet and dashed the tears
+from his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>“You bring me a message,” he said, “straight from<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_382"></a>[382]</span>
+God. An outpost on the fighting line will be my delight.
+Bishop, you have not only saved me, you have
+invigorated and inspired me. How can I show my
+gratitude?”</p>
+
+<p>“By preaching, hereafter, the simple gospel of Christ
+as I have explained it to you. But enough of this.
+We have disposed of the case; let’s talk of other things.
+Come and have dinner with me, and we’ll discuss the
+state of the Church at large.”</p>
+
+<p>And, with his arm still resting on the broad shoulders
+of the rector, the wise and big-hearted prelate led
+his guest from the room.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_383"></a>[383]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXIII">CHAPTER XXIII<br>
+<small>REHABILITATION</small></h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>To restore the human body to a state of health after
+the shock of a severe illness is a long and tedious task.
+It is not different with the body politic; it is not different
+with communities, with churches, or with business.</p>
+
+<p>April had melted into May, and May had blossomed
+into June before life in the city began to take on its
+normal aspect. The riot at the Malleson mills had
+been the climax of the labor troubles. It was the beginning
+of the end. The striking workmen and their
+sympathizers had neither the strength nor the courage
+to make any further demonstration of physical force.
+They were beaten, cowed, utterly disheartened. Strike-breakers
+and non-union workmen passed to and fro
+along the street unmolested, save that now and then
+the boastful bearing of some one of them invited an
+epithet or a blow. But there was no general disorder.
+The mills had been opened, the wheels were turning,
+smoke belched from the chimneys; but the complement
+of workmen had not yet been obtained. The
+strike had, indeed, been declared off, but Mr. Malleson
+refused, as he had said he would refuse, to take back
+any of the workmen who had voluntarily left his
+employ.</p>
+
+<p>Westgate went to him, one day, and, in language
+which he alone dared use to him, pointed out the folly
+of his course. The mills were not being worked to
+half their capacity. They were being run at an actual
+loss. Business in the city was still stagnant. Some of
+the workmen had gone elsewhere, some of them were<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_384"></a>[384]</span>
+engaged in other occupations, many of them were still
+idle. It stood to reason that the old men, who were
+familiar with the plant and the machinery, could do
+much better and more profitable work than men who
+were new and untried. Indeed, that was already the
+experience of the management. Sound business judgment
+required the reëmployment of the old workmen.
+All this Westgate told the president of the company,
+and he told him more. He told him that the time for
+stubbornness and resentment had passed. That his
+men were human beings like himself. That he had no
+moral right to condemn them to poverty or chance employment
+simply to satisfy a grudge. That the time had
+come when charity for the weakness of others should
+be displayed, good feeling restored, and those friendly
+relations between capital and labor, which alone can
+ensure the prosperity of both, should be firmly reëstablished.
+And Westgate’s counsel finally prevailed.</p>
+
+<p>When it became known that Mr. Malleson was willing
+to let bygones be bygones, his old men came back
+to him, one by one, for he still refused to take them in
+a body, and were given their old places so far as that
+was practicable or possible. But Bricky Hoover did
+not come back. After the riot he had dropped out of
+sight. What had become of him no one knew. His
+tall and angular figure, crowned by the shock of dull
+red hair, was never again seen on the streets of the city.</p>
+
+<p>Christ Church, too, pulled itself slowly out of the
+pit into which it had fallen. The resignation of the
+Reverend Robert Bruce Farrar as rector of the church
+was accepted without comment. No member of the
+vestry cared to criticize or condemn him further. So
+soon as his wife was able to travel he had gone away,
+to some out-of-the-way place in the far west it was
+said, where the calm serenity of Christ Church parish
+would never be disturbed by him again. Yet there
+were those who missed him; “sorrowing most of all ...
+that they should see his face no more.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_385"></a>[385]</span></p>
+
+<p>In due time the vestry notified the bishop, in accordance
+with the canon, that it proposed to elect, as
+rector of Christ Church, the Reverend Dr. Marbury, a
+man of good report and of great learning, devoted to
+the godly maintenance of organized religion in pursuance
+of the forms and customs of the Church.</p>
+
+<p>So Dr. Marbury came. He was politic and gracious,
+kind-hearted and wise. Slowly but none the less
+effectively the breach in the parish was healed. The
+old parishioners came back. The institutions and
+charities of the church were placed once more upon a
+solid footing. The poor were relieved, the sick were
+visited, the lowly were befriended, the stranger was
+welcomed to the shelter of the church.</p>
+
+<p>One beautiful September Sunday, at the close of the
+morning service, as Ruth Tracy and her mother moved
+down the aisle chatting with their friends and neighbors,
+Philip Westgate joined them. He had just returned
+from a long business journey in the far west.
+Mother and daughter greeted him pleasantly, and he
+accompanied them to their car waiting for them at the
+curb.</p>
+
+<p>“Philip,” said Mrs. Tracy, “you’ll come and have
+luncheon with us to-day, won’t you? I want to hear
+about that wonderful trip. We’ll call for your mother
+on the way up—she always gets away from service
+ahead of me—and we’ll have a nice, comfortable
+visit.”</p>
+
+<p>He glanced at Ruth’s face, and, although she was
+looking the other way, he saw in it no sign of disapproval.</p>
+
+<p>“Thank you, Mrs. Tracy!” he said. “It is very
+kind of you. I’m sure mother will enjoy it; and it
+will give me great pleasure to come.”</p>
+
+<p>He handed the elder woman into the car, and turned
+to Ruth. She was still looking away from him.</p>
+
+<p>“Come, Ruth!” said her mother. “The car is
+waiting. What are you mooning about?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_386"></a>[386]</span></p>
+
+<p>“I was thinking,” replied Ruth; but just there
+Westgate interrupted her:</p>
+
+<p>“She was thinking,” he suggested, “what a glorious
+day it would be to walk home.”</p>
+
+<p>The girl smiled and turned toward him. “If you
+mean that for an invitation, Philip,” she said, “it’s accepted.”</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Tracy felt the balmy air sweep her face as she
+went on alone in luxurious flight, while the contemplation
+of the incident at the curb and its possible sequel
+gave her vastly more comfort and satisfaction than had
+the pious assurances of the Reverend Dr. Marbury in
+his morning sermon.</p>
+
+<p>Both Ruth and Westgate recalled that September
+morning, a year before, when they had walked home
+together from the church, and discord had overtaken
+them on their way. But neither of them spoke of it.
+It was a thing too long gone by, and an incident that
+perhaps it were better, after all, to forget.</p>
+
+<p>It was in the middle of the second block that Westgate
+said to her:</p>
+
+<p>“I think I ought to tell you that I saw Mr. Farrar
+in the west.”</p>
+
+<p>“Indeed?”</p>
+
+<p>Her face paled a little, and her breath came quickly;
+otherwise she manifested no loss of composure.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. He is settled in a parish in Apollo City.
+Our bishop made it possible for him to go there. I
+heard that he was there, and being in that neighborhood
+I went over to see him.”</p>
+
+<p>“I hope he is very happy and contented.”</p>
+
+<p>“I never saw a man more absorbed in his work, or
+more enthusiastic about it. You know Apollo City is
+the center of a great agricultural and grazing region.
+Farmers and stock men come fifty miles in their automobiles
+to church. He has captured them all. It is
+an extremely democratic community, and a democratic
+church. Why, he tells me that the present church<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_387"></a>[387]</span>
+building was erected by gifts of an exactly equal
+amount from three hundred subscribers. That gives
+you an idea of the social equality that prevails out
+there.”</p>
+
+<p>“He must be pleased with that.”</p>
+
+<p>“He is delighted with it. He feels that he has been
+fitted into his proper niche.”</p>
+
+<p>She waited a moment for him to continue his story,
+but he was silent. It was plain that if she would know
+more she must inquire. She felt that she must know
+more, and she inquired.</p>
+
+<p>“And Mrs. Farrar? What about her?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, she is quite herself again. She goes with him
+everywhere. At the time I visited them they had just
+returned from making a sick-call together, twenty-five
+miles away.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s splendid! How happy she must be!”</p>
+
+<p>“I think she is, very happy. She looks it, and talks
+it. She seems to feel that she is helping her husband
+in his work, and that he depends on her, and that fact
+gives her supreme joy.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m so glad!”</p>
+
+<p>She put her handkerchief to her eyes and brushed
+away some tears that had gathered there. He saw the
+movement and he became silent. It was not his purpose
+nor his wish to arouse unhappy memories. She
+divined his thought, and, still eager for information,
+and fearful lest she might not receive it, she urged him
+impulsively.</p>
+
+<p>“But tell me, Philip. Tell me everything. Was he
+glad to see you? Did he inquire about Christ Church?
+Does he feel bitterly toward us here?”</p>
+
+<p>When he found that she really wanted to know he
+threw off his reserve.</p>
+
+<p>“I think,” he replied, “that he was very glad to see
+me, though I took him by surprise. He is not a man
+who harbors resentments, and, now that it is all over, I
+felt that I could not afford to hold any grudge against<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_388"></a>[388]</span>
+him. That is why I went to see him. I told him so;
+we got back on the old footing, and he opened his
+heart to me. Yes, he asked after all of you back here.
+And he wanted to know about Christ Church. Do
+you remember how eagerly Philip Nolan, the Man
+without a Country, drank in, on his death bed, the
+news from home? Well, Mr. Farrar reminded me of
+Nolan. And I told him—I told him everything I
+knew or could think of.”</p>
+
+<p>“Philip, you’re an angel.”</p>
+
+<p>Again the handkerchief went to her eyes. Westgate,
+paying no heed to her exclamation, hurried on:</p>
+
+<p>“And he has no bitter feeling toward any one. He
+couldn’t lay up things like that. I’ve already told you
+that he’s not a man who harbors resentments. It’s not
+in his nature. But the memory of what he passed
+through here still haunts him. It always will haunt
+him. His experience was too terrible and tragic to be
+soon forgotten. Yet he blames no one but himself.
+He says the bishop was almost like a heavenly father
+to him.”</p>
+
+<p>“The bishop is a saint!”</p>
+
+<p>Lest she should make a spectacle of herself on the
+street, Ruth gave a final dab at her eyes, and then
+resolutely put her handkerchief away.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh,” said Westgate, “I almost forgot to tell you.
+I saw Barry Malleson out there, too.”</p>
+
+<p>“You did? Barry Malleson?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, he rode into Apollo City on horseback while I
+was there. He was flannel-shirted, soft-hatted, belted
+and spurred, in regular cowboy style. He had come
+up from about fifty miles down state with Jim Crane,
+Mrs. Bradley’s brother. Crane has a ranch down there
+somewhere. You know he came east to his sister’s
+funeral; Barry met him here, and when he went out
+into that country he hunted Crane up. It seems they
+have become great friends. They came up to Apollo
+City to buy stock, and incidentally to call on Mr. Farrar.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_389"></a>[389]</span></p>
+
+<p>“How lovely! Was Barry glad to see you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Glad! I thought he would never let go my hand.
+He insisted on my coming to visit him. He’s living
+down at Nogalouche.”</p>
+
+<p>“Where?”</p>
+
+<p>Ruth stopped in her tracks and turned to face her
+companion.</p>
+
+<p>“At Nogalouche. Why?”</p>
+
+<p>“Philip Westgate! Do you know that that’s where
+Jane Chichester has gone? Her sister told me so
+yesterday. Do you—do you think she’ll get him?”</p>
+
+<p>“Heaven knows! Persistence is a jewel; and the
+man can’t elude her forever.”</p>
+
+<p>“Poor Barry!”</p>
+
+<p>“Why poor Barry? He might go farther and fare
+worse.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I don’t know. I don’t think—but it’s nothing
+for me to worry about, after all.”</p>
+
+<p>“No.”</p>
+
+<p>They walked on in silence for a minute, then Ruth
+remembered something that she wanted to say to
+him:</p>
+
+<p>“Philip, there’s another thing I want to thank you
+for. Mrs. Malleson told me. She said it was not to
+be known. I don’t know why she should tell me, but
+she did. It was about how you prevailed upon Mr.
+Malleson to take back the men who had left him, and
+give them their old places. Philip, it was—it was
+heavenly in you to do that.”</p>
+
+<p>They had reached the Tracy house, and were standing
+for a moment by the newel-post before ascending
+the steps.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” said Westgate; “what with peace in the
+mills, and peace in the church, the storm seems to be
+about over. There’s only one cloud in the sky, and the
+shadow of that cloud rests on me alone. You can
+banish it. Everything else has been restored to its
+normal condition; is it not time for us to get back on<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_390"></a>[390]</span>
+the old footing? I want you. I have always wanted
+you. I have never wanted you so much as I do to-day.
+Will you come back to me?”</p>
+
+<p>She looked up into his face with tear-wet eyes.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, Philip,” she said; “I will.”</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr class="chap">
+<div class="tnote">
+<p class="noi tntitle">Transcriber’s Notes:</p>
+
+<p class="smfont">Punctuation and spelling inaccuracies were silently corrected.</p>
+
+<p class="smfont">Archaic and variable spelling has been preserved.</p>
+
+<p class="smfont">Variations in hyphenation and compound words have been preserved.</p>
+</div>
+
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+
diff --git a/70967-h/images/cover.jpg b/70967-h/images/cover.jpg
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diff --git a/70967-h/images/cover_sm.jpg b/70967-h/images/cover_sm.jpg
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diff --git a/70967-h/images/logo.jpg b/70967-h/images/logo.jpg
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author	nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org>	2025-01-19 19:01:05 -0800
committer	nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org>	2025-01-19 19:01:05 -0800
commit	2381a6e79a43e39105e76c343527b4d91aa035cc (patch)
tree	fa9961b8ff2c98ee402029326465deebb3374e65