CHAPTER XXXII

WHICH IS IN SOME RESPECTS SATISFACTORY

Judith sat in Mr. Fenno's little office, while in the larger room the magnates were slowly gathering. She was deeply interested in the result of the coming meeting, a little anxious as well, on account of the last words which Mr. Fenno had said to her.

"Do you think George will accept?" he had asked.

"Why should he not?" she returned, startled.

"You see no reason?" were his words as he left her.

She puzzled to find a reason until, in the outer office, Mr. Fenno's deep voice began to address the little meeting. Before him sat, in two groups, the financiers and the reform politicians, whose interests were to be reconciled. They had, between them, the power to make a new railway president and a new mayor, but never yet had the two groups of men worked together.

"We all know why we are here," Mr. Fenno began. "A holy crusade is our object--or the protection of our interests."

"It is not your interests that influence you," said one of the reformers. "We are glad to see, Mr. Fenno, that you are moved by righteous indignation. This recent tragedy--" But Mr. Fenno stopped him by a sudden gesture.

"My stenographer," and he emphasised the word, "my stenographer is within hearing. If we require any other agreements than I have prepared, she can copy them." He saw the glances which his friends exchanged at the news of Judith's presence; moved by the sudden reference to her misfortunes, his heavy voice trembled as he proceeded. "We all have our--wrongs to avenge, and a good friend to place in his proper position. Before Mr. Mather comes, suppose we arrive at an understanding."

"Suppose," rejoined the leader of the reformers, "Mr. Fenno makes a statement of his expectations. It seems to me," he said when the explanation was forthcoming, "that the Good Government League is expected to give more than it receives."

"It is more blessed----" quoted Mr. Fenno drily.

"Can't we," put in Pease mildly, "give concessions on either side? I think we need each other."

"It is just this," said Mr. Fenno to the reformers: "Lend us your candidate to straighten out our tangle, and we'll lend him back to straighten yours."

"Is it possible," was the doubtful question, "that a president of the street-railroad can stand for mayor without raising suspicion of his motives?"

"Mather can," answered Pease promptly.

"Certainly with less suspicion than Ellis arouses," supplemented Mr. Fenno. "Come, will you lose a chance to defeat Ellis on his first line of battle? He will be beaten all the easier on his second."

"We are thinking of Mr. Mather's standing before the public," replied the reformers. "He must resign from your presidency as soon as we nominate him."

"Very well."

"That suits you?"

"Yes, if you will release him from his promise to you now."

"We will, if you will support him then."

"Here is an agreement covering these points," said Mr. Fenno. "Shall we put our names to this?"

It was on a scene of paper-signing, then, that Mather entered. Some of the gentlemen looked up and nodded to him; others--they were all his seniors--continued passing the papers around the table. He paused with his hand upon the door-knob.

"Am I in the way?" he asked.

"Everything is decided without you," answered Mr. Fenno. "We have merely disposed of your time for the next eighteen months."

Mather laughed, threw off his coat, and took a chair. They explained matters to him; in her seclusion Judith listened long before she heard him say a word. Then he began to ask questions, deep and far-reaching, but every difficulty had been considered beforehand.

"And my obligations to you, Mr. Pease?" he said once. "I was not to quit the Electrolytic Company until the fall."

"I have arranged all that," Pease replied. "The new Chebasset manager is very satisfactory; we will promote him."

"Well, what do you say?" asked Fenno, when every point had been covered.

Mather sat thoughtful for a while. "I may understand," he asked at length, "that your proposition amounts to approval of my former course as president of the street-railway?"

They assured him that it did.

"I should pursue," he next said, "the same policy. In place of Mr. Ellis's subway bill, which was this morning thrown out of the legislature, I should at once introduce another."

"Different in plan?" some one inquired.

"Quite," Mather answered, smiling. "Having no real estate to condemn at high prices, I have no desire for the privilege of eminent domain."

"Have you any objection," they asked him, "to serving in these two positions in such quick succession?"

He smiled again. "Are you sure you can elect me to either?"

"Suppose we can?" returned Mr. Fenno.

"Supposing you can," began Mather--then stopped to think.

"Well?" demanded Mr. Fenno after a moment's impatience.

Mather roused himself. "Supposing that you can elect me," he said seriously, "there is just one thing I wish to lay before you--a statement of my personal feelings. We all know each other well, we have the same interests, we know and say things which are not given to the public. I wish to define my position exactly." He paused and looked at the attentive faces. In her little office Judith asked herself with sudden alarm: "Will he refuse?"

"The personal element," he went on, "has recently entered into my relations with Mr. Ellis. There are distresses which I and--friends of mine, have suffered through him, by actions which make him morally, if not legally, criminal. Some of you know that what I say is true."

He looked at Pease, who nodded; Fenno did the same, but no one spoke. Mather began again with increasing energy, yet slowly, struggling for an exact statement of his position. "I have," he said, "and acknowledge freely, reason for the bitterest personal dislike of Mr. Ellis. And for that reason, considering the possibility of the proposals which you make to me, it has sometimes seemed to me as if I ought to refuse you----"

"You must consider----" cried Pease, half rising from his chair. But Mather held up a hand to stay him.

"And yet," he said, as Pease sank back again, "I recognise the situation here. Long ago I expressed my disapproval of Mr. Ellis as a public man, and opposed him before--certain circumstances arose. Besides, I am the man (excuse me if I say it) that best can meet this strike; and again, a successful fight must be made for mayor in the fall. I believe that I can win there for you. So if it comes to a question between my personal feelings and my duties as a citizen, then--if you will believe my honesty in this confession, and in trusting myself to oppose Mr. Ellis without vindictiveness--if you will believe this, and will fight him with me not as a man but as a force, an evil force, then I will sign this document with you."

In her little room Judith found herself trembling in response to the emotion which had vibrated in his voice; but in the larger office the gentlemen rose from their chairs, crowded around Mather, and in enthusiasm promised him their support. No one noticed the noise of the opening of the outer door; it was a full minute before the first of them perceived the figure which, attentive and sneering, watched them. It was Ellis.

He heard their words and knew their purposes, yet he had guessed beforehand what they had gathered there to do. By one of those bold strokes which had so often succeeded for him, he had come among them in the attempt to conciliate a strong minority. He had expected to arouse consternation, yet on perceiving him they looked at each other as if welcoming his presence. Still ignorant of Price's treachery, he did not understand the sign.

"Twelve good men and true," he said, coming forward. "Is this an inquest?"

"A funeral," Mr. Fenno replied. "Some one whom we know is dead and cold. Will you not pronounce the benediction?"

"Ah, I am not qualified," Ellis said. "But learning that you were here in great distress of mind, I came to see if I could not relieve you. I hope you will excuse the interruption?"

"Willingly," Mr. Fenno answered, with much cheerfulness.

Then Ellis changed his tone; dropping the banter, he looked upon them frankly. "Seriously, I understand that you are here to discuss what you regard as mismanagement in the street-railway. I know I come without invitation, yet I wish to make an offer. You have large interests in the road, I dislike to exclude a minority from any voice in affairs, and so I came to say that if you wish more representation on the next board of directors----"

"Then we shall have it?" interrupted Mr. Fenno. "Gentlemen, is not Mr. Ellis very kind?"

Ellis noted the sustained irony, and as those present murmured their responses to the question he saw in them no conciliatory spirit. They looked at him with that inquiring reserve which was not difficult to meet in them singly, but which, thus directed at him by a group of the blue-bloods, became irritatingly oppressive. And there was more in its meaning than ever before. Suddenly he asked himself if these men could be stronger than he had thought. He had been very busy all the morning with messages to and from the capital in regard to his bill, and with the strike. If anything had happened on exchange----

The serious voice of Pease began to speak. "I imagine that Mr. Ellis, in studying the market reports to-day, failed to remark a transfer which was recorded three minutes before the closing time. Otherwise he would scarcely have come here."

The inquiring glances of the others grew keener, pressing upon Ellis almost physically as those present watched for the effect of Pease's words. Standing alone against them, Ellis felt a sudden sense of impending calamity, between his temples a pressure began, and in the silence his voice was scarcely audible as in spite of himself he asked hoarsely: "What do you mean?"

"History," answered Pease slowly--never in his life before had he been deliberately cruel--"history, Mr. Ellis, has taught some valuable lessons, of which I should like to call two to your attention. One is that some great men meet their Waterloo, the other that some little men have their--Price!"

Something flashed before Ellis's eyes, and in that flash he saw the whole treachery. His head dropped, his eyes closed, and his jaw shut convulsively. "Price! Price!" he hissed.

Then in an instant he stood upright and faced them without flinching. Though he saw the whole meaning of the news, though he realised the power of the caste which, so long supine, at last had risen up against him, even though he knew he faced two great defeats, he looked upon his adversaries, and they saw courage in his glance. He turned to Mather.

"Mather," said Ellis, "you think you've got me."

He felt, as that same quiet glance looked down on him, the continual irritation of it, the impossibility of ever attaining that superb indifference. And then the answer: "For the present I have." Would they never boast, these aristocrats--never threaten? First, despising him, they had left him alone; even now when they turned on him they still looked down on him. A torrent of words rushed to his lips, and yet, feeling how powerless he was to impress those silent, attentive spectators, he checked himself.

"For the present!" he repeated, and turned to go.

In his unfamiliar surroundings he mistook the door and opened one leading into a little office where, facing him across a table, he saw--who was that? Pale, intent, startled at his entrance, Judith Blanchard rose and confronted him. For a moment he stared as at a portent.

Then quickly he closed the door and turned to the men at his back. Fenno and Pease had started forward; with Mather, they were the nearest to him. He eyed them one by one. "So," he said, pointing to the little room, "_that_ is why you are all here!"

They made no answer. "Because I wish to enter your homes, is it," he asked, "that you combine against me? Because I nearly succeeded, I frightened you?"

Mather did not understand, Pease and Fenno had no reply to make, but Ellis, feeling with pain that he had pronounced a truth against himself, waited for no answer. "But wait!" he cried, stamping. "I have avoided you, favoured you at times, but now I am against you in everything. I will go out of my way to meet you. What you wish, I shall oppose; what you build, I shall throw down; what you bring in, I shall throw out! For everything you win, you must pay; I will weary you of fighting. I will plan while you sleep, act while you rest, work while you play. Your virtue shall be a load to you, and I will tire your vigilance!"

He flung his phrases like bombs, to burst among his adversaries; casting his prophecies in their faces, he startled his opponents from their reserve. Then, turning, he rushed from the office, leaving them staring at each other as if a whirlwind had passed.

* * * * *

One by one Mather's supporters left the office, each renewing his promise of assistance, yet each subdued by the thoughts aroused by Ellis's amazing words. For they recognised a challenge which would be hard to meet--to be as persistent in their efforts as Ellis should be with his, to meet his subtlety, to foresee his plans, to counteract his influence, to expose his methods. And having businesses, having families, loving repose and pleasure, only the reformers, those modern Puritans, could promise the self-denial necessary to meet Ellis's unceasing activities.

Pease, Fenno, and Mather at last remained in the office. "Tremendous!" sighed Pease, breaking a period of thought which the departure of Ellis had inaugurated for him.

"Tremendous!" repeated Fenno.

"Are we equal to it?" asked Mather seriously.

Mr. Fenno recovered his cynicism. "Sufficient to the day is its weevil," he answered. "Grubs breed fast, but they can be killed. I am going home."

The three put on their coats. "We are going the same way, I suppose?" Mather remarked.

"Pease and I have something to talk over," replied Mr. Fenno. "Yes we have, Pease! None of your confounded straightforwardness. You must give us a start, George; five minutes' law, if you please. And I should like you to wait," he pointed to the door of the inner office, "in that room. Good-evening."

"Good-evening," repeated Pease, and followed Mr. Fenno out.

Thought Mather: "What under the sun----" He opened the door of the little room. "Judith!"

There she sat and looked at him; on her cheeks were traces of tears, but her eyes were bright as they met his. He looked from her to the uncovered typewriter, the pencils and note-book. "So it was you," he said, "that Ellis saw before he turned upon us so?"

She nodded, looking on him silently.

"What is it?" he asked, coming a step nearer. "You look--Judith, are you ill?"

Suddenly she rose and held out her hands to him. "Oh, George," she cried, "I am so glad for you!"

"Oh," he said, relieved, "I was afraid that--Judith, you have been crying. Is anything wrong? Was the work hard?" She shook her head. "Then this meeting has distressed you?"

Unashamed, she wiped her cheeks. "It is not that."

"Come to the window," he said, for the early twilight was falling. But when he studied her in the stronger light he saw nothing in her eyes except a resolute cheerfulness; the unwonted pink in her cheeks might be the reflection of the sunset glow.

"Nothing is wrong with me," she said, and took her jacket from the hook on the wall. "I suppose Mr. Fenno will not want me any more to-day, so I may as well go home." Yet while Mather helped her to put on the jacket, the knowledge that he was studying her set her nerves to trembling, and it was by an effort that she controlled herself.

"You are under some strain," he said with decision. "Did Ellis frighten you?"

She answered, "I have no fear of him." Drawing her gloves from her pocket, she tried to put them on, but her hands trembled visibly. She abandoned the attempt at concealment, and turned to him.

"It's just that I'm glad for you, George, and proud of you, and--I've been making an acknowledgment to myself, that's all. Now shall we go home?"

But he took her hand and kept her face toward the window. "I should like to hear that acknowledgment, if I may?"

Perhaps the colours deepened in the sky; at any rate, her cheeks grew rosier as she looked away from him, out above the roofs. "If you wish to know," she answered.

"I wish it very much."

She folded her hands before her tightly; they showed white against her dress. "No one else will hear," she began uncertainly, "although every one else heard your confession, George. I heard, and somehow you set me thinking of the time we met in the Golf Club, long ago, last April."

"Last April," he repeated, and added with meaning, "Long ago."

Her voice grew stronger. "I will tell you everything," she said. "You will see what a foolish girl I have been--how proud I was. We spoke then of the world, and you warned me of it; you said that it was very big, and strong, and merciless."

"I remember," Mather said.

"But I did not believe," Judith went on. "I thought that you--you had just lost this presidency, George--I thought that you were cowed. And I thought that I was braver than you, and stronger than you, and I believed that I--I, George!--could conquer the world!"

She made a little gesture of amazement at herself; gravely attentive, he did not speak. Then she pointed down at her black dress, swept her hand toward the typewriter, and exclaimed: "And this is the result! But I know myself now, George, and I am glad you made me say this, for I want to beg your pardon."

"There is no need of that," he answered.

"Then," she asked, "shall we go?"

"Not yet," he replied. But he continued looking at her without saying more, and to cover her embarrassment she said:

"Just let me tell you first that Mr. Fenno has engaged me permanently, and I feel that I have started a new life, George."

She was attempting to be gay, a difficult task in the face of his continued serious scrutiny; but to her relief he spoke. "A new life? Why, that leads to an old subject, Judith. And what you have said makes me hope that some day I may begin a new life, too."

"Yours begins next week," she said, "with the stockholders' meeting."

"It begins," he returned, "whenever you say the word." She turned abruptly aside from him and looked out of the window; there could now be no doubt whence came the colour that flooded her face and even touched her ears with coral. He came close to her side.

"See," he said, pointing out the window. "The sun is going down. Shall it not rise again on a new life for us both?"

"George," she answered, "how can I marry any one?"

"You are thinking," he asked, "of your debt to Ellis?"

She nodded. "How can I so burden you?"

He laughed. "I can pay the money out of hand; I can earn it again in three years. Jacob served seven years for Rachel: will you not let me work a little while for you?" He tried to draw her to him. "Judith! Judith!"

Suddenly she turned and nestled to him. "Oh, hold me!" she sobbed. "Take care of me always!"