Peter

CHAPTER x.x.x

Jack strode out into the night, his mind in a whirl. No sense of elation over the money had possession of him. All his thoughts were on Isaac.

What manner of man was this Jew? he kept asking himself in a sort of stunned surprise, who could handle his shears like a journeyman, talk like a savant, spend money like a prince, and still keep the heart of a child? Whoever heard of such an act of kindness; and so spontaneous and direct; reading his heart, sympathizing with him in his troubles--as his friend would have done--as his own father might have done.

And with the thought of Cohen"s supreme instantaneous response there followed with a rush of shame and self-humiliation that of his own narrow-mindedness, his mean prejudices, his hatred of the race, his questionings of Peter"s intimacy, and his frequent comments on their acquaintance--the one thing he could never understand in his beloved mentor. Again Isaac"s words rang in his ears. "Is it because I am a Jew?

Who taught you such nonsense? Not your Uncle Peter--he loves me. I love him." And with them arose the vision of the man stretched to his full height, the light of the lamp glinting on his moist forehead, his bead-like eyes flashing in the rush of his anger.

As to the sacrifice both he and Ruth had just made, and it was now final, this no longer troubled him. He had already weighed for her every side of the question, taking especial pains to discuss each phase of the subject, even going so far as to disagree with MacFarlane"s opinion as to the worthlessness of the ore lands. But the dear child had never wavered.

"No!--I don"t care," she had answered with a toss of her head. "Let the land go if there is no other way. We can get on without it, my darling, and these poor people cannot." She had not, of course, if the truth must be told, weighed any of the consequences of what their double sacrifice might entail, nor had she realized the long years of work which might ensue, or the self-denial and constant anxiety attending its repayment.

Practical questions on so large a scale had been outside the range of her experience. Hers was the spirit of Joan of old, who reckoned nothing of value but her ideal.

Nor can we blame her. When your cheeks are twin roses; your hair black as a crow"s wing and fine as silk; and your teeth--not one missing--so many seed pearls peeping from pomegranate lips; when your blood goes skipping and bubbling through your veins; when at night you sleep like a baby, and at morn you spring from your bed in the joy of another day; when there are two strong brown hands and two strong arms, and a great, loving, honest heart every bit your own; and when, too, there are crisp autumn afternoons to come, with gold and brown for a carpet, and long winter evenings, the fire-light dancing on the overhead rafters; and "way--"way--beyond this--somewhere in the far future there rises a slender spire holding a chime of bells, and beneath it a deep-toned organ--when this, I say, is, or will be, your own--the gold of the Indies is but so much tinkling bra.s.s, and Cleopatra"s diadem a mere bauble with which to quiet a child.

It was not until he was nearing Corklesville that the sense of the money really came to him. He knew what it would mean to Ruth and what her eyes would hold of gladness and relief. Suddenly there sprang to his lips an unbidden laugh, a spontaneous overflow from the joy of his heart; the first he had uttered for days. Ruth should know first. He would take her in his arms and tell her to hunt in all his pockets, and then he would kiss her and place the package in her hands. And then the two would go to Corinne. It would be late, and she would be in bed, perhaps, but that made no difference. Ruth would steal noiselessly upstairs; past where Garry lay, the flowers heaped upon his coffin, and Corinne would learn the glad tidings before to-morrow"s sun. At last the ghost which had haunted them all these days was banished; her child would be safe, and Corinne would no longer have to hide her head.

Once more the precious package became the dominant thought. Ten bonds!

More than enough! What would McGowan say now? What would his Uncle Arthur say? He slipped his hand under his coat fondling the wrapper, caressing it as a lover does a long-delayed letter, as a prisoner does a key which is to turn darkness into light, as a hunted man a weapon which may save his life.

It did not take Jack many minutes we may be sure to hurry from the station to Ruth"s home. There it all happened just as he had planned and schemed it should--even to the kiss and the hunting for the package of bonds, and Ruth"s cry of joy, and the walk through the starlight night to Corinne"s, and the finding her upstairs; except that the poor woman was not yet in bed.

"Who gave it to you, Jack?" Corinne asked in a tired voice.

"A friend of Uncle Peter"s."

"You mean Mr. Grayson?"

"Yes."

There was no outburst, no cry of grat.i.tude, no flood of long-pent-up tears. The storm had so crushed and bruised this plant that many days must elapse before it would again lift its leaves from the mud.

"It was very good of Mr. Grayson, Jack," was all she said in answer, and then relapsed into the apathy which had been hers since the hour when the details of her husband"s dishonesty had dropped from his lips.

Poor girl! she had no delusions to sustain her. She knew right from wrong. Emotions never misled her. In her earlier years she and her mother had been accustomed to look things squarely in the face, and to work out their own careers; a game of chance, it is true, until her mother"s marriage with the elder Breen; but they had both been honest careers, and they had owed no man a penny. Garry had fought the battle for her within the last few years, and in return she had loved him as much as she was able to love anybody but she had loved him as a man of honor, not as a thief. Now he had lied to her, had refused to listen to her pleadings, and the end had come. What was there left, and to whom should she now turn--she without a penny to her name--except to her stepfather, who had insulted and despised her. She had even been compelled to seek help from Ruth and Jack; and now at last to accept it from Mr. Grayson--he almost a stranger. These were the thoughts which, like strange nightmares, swept across her tired brain, taking grewsome shapes, each one more horrible than its predecessor.

At the funeral, next day, she presented the same impa.s.sive front. Breen and her mother rode with her in the carriage to the church, and Jack and Ruth helped her alight, but she might have been made of stone so far as she evinced either sorrow or interest in what was taking place about her. And yet nothing had been omitted by friend or foe expressive of the grief and heart-felt sorrow the occasion demanded. Holker Morris sent a wreath of roses with a special letter to her, expressing his confidence in and respect for the man he had brought up from a boy. A committee was present from the Society of Architects to which Garry belonged; half a dozen of his old friends from the Magnolia were present, Biffy among them; the village Council and the Board of Church Trustees came in a body, and even McGowan felt it inc.u.mbent upon him to stand up during the service and a.s.sume the air of one who had been especially bereft. Nor were the notices in the country and city papers wanting in respect. "One of our most distinguished citizens--a man who has reached the topmost round of the ladder," etc., etc., one editorial began.

It was only when the funeral was over, and she was once more at home, that she expressed the slightest concern. Then she laid her hand in Peter"s and threw back her heavy crepe veil: "You have saved me from disgrace, Mr. Grayson," she said, in a low, monotonous voice, "and my little boy as well. I try to think that Garry must have been out of his mind when he took the money. He would not listen to me, and he would not tell me the truth. Jack is going to pay it back to-morrow, and n.o.body will ever know that my husband did wrong; but I couldn"t let you go away without thanking you for having saved us. My stepfather wouldn"t help--n.o.body would help but you. I don"t know why you did it. It seems so strange. I had given up all hope when Jack came back last night."

Peter sat perfectly still, his hand on her wrist, where he had placed it to show by a kindly touch his sympathy for her. Not knowing what her lips would tell, he had begun to pat the back of her black glove when she started to speak, as one would quiet a child who pours out its troubles, but he stopped in amazement as she proceeded. He had not loaned her a dollar, nor had Jack, as he knew, succeeded in getting a penny, unless by a miracle he had met some one on the train who had come to his rescue.

What did the poor woman mean? Disgrace! Trouble! Garry taking money, and Jack paying it back on Monday! The horror of her husband"s sudden death had undoubtedly turned her mind, distorting some simple business transaction into a crime, or she would not be thanking him for something that he had never done. This talk of Jack"s could only have been a ruse to keep up her spirits and give her false strength until she had pa.s.sed through the agonizing ordeal of the funeral--he accepting all her delusions as true--as one does when an insane person is to be coaxed back into a cell. These thoughts went whirling through his mind, as Peter watched her face closely, wondering what would be his course. He had not met her often, yet he could see that she was terribly changed.

He noticed, too, that all through the interview she had not shed a tear.

Yes--there was no question that her mind was unbalanced. The best plan would be to bring the interview to an end as quickly as possible, so she should not dwell too long on her sorrow.

"If I have done anything to help you, my dear lady," he said with gentle courtesy, rising from his chair and taking her hand again, "or can do anything for you in the future, I shall be most happy, and you must certainly let me know. And now, may I not ask you to go upstairs and lie down. You are greatly fatigued--I a.s.sure you I feel for you most deeply."

But his mind was still disturbed. Ruth and Jack wondered at his quiet as he sat beside them on the way back to MacFarlane"s--gazing out of the carriage window, his clean-shaven, placid face at rest, his straight thin lips close shut. He hardly spoke until they reached the house, and then it was when he helped Ruth alight. Once inside, however, he beckoned Jack, and without a word led him alone into MacFarlane"s study--now almost dismantled for the move to Morfordsburg--and closed the door.

"Mrs. Minott has just told me the most extraordinary thing, Jack--an unbelievable story. Is she quite sane?"

Jack scanned Peter"s face and read the truth. Corinne had evidently told him everything. This was the severest blow of all.

"She supposed you knew, sir;" answered Jack quietly, further concealment now being useless.

"Knew what?" Peter was staring at him with wide-open eyes.

"What she told you, sir," faltered Jack.

The old man threw up his hands in horror.

"What! You really mean to tell me, Jack, that Minott has been stealing?"

Jack bent his head and his eyes sought the floor. He could hardly have been more ashamed had he himself been the culprit.

"G.o.d bless my soul! From whom?"

"The church funds--he was trustee. The meeting is to-morrow, and it would all have come out."

A great light broke over Peter--as when a window is opened in a darkened room in which one has bees stumbling.

"And you have walked the streets trying to beggar yourself, not to help MacFarlane but to keep Minott out of jail!" Amazement had taken the place of horror.

"He was my friend, sir--and there are Corinne and the little boy. It is all over now. I have the money--that is, I have got something to raise it on."

"Who gave it to you?" He was still groping, blinded by the revelations, his gray eyes staring at Jack, his voice trembling, beads of perspiration moistening his forehead.

"Isaac Cohen. He has given me ten Government bonds. They are in that drawer behind you. He overheard what I said to you yesterday about wanting some money, and was waiting for me when I went downstairs. He gave them to me because he loved you, he said. I am to give him my ore property as security, although I told him it was of no value."

Peter made a step forward, stretching out a hand as if to steady himself. His face grew white then suddenly flushed. His breath seemed to have left him.

"And Cohen did this!" he gasped--"and you for Minott! Why--why--"

Jack caught him in his arms, thinking he was about to fall.

"No! No! I"m all right," he cried, patting Jack"s shoulder. "It"s you!--you--YOU, my splendid boy! Oh!--how I love you!"

CHAPTER x.x.xI

The following morning Jack walked into Arthur Breen"s private office while his uncle was reading his mail, and laid the package containing the ten bonds on his desk. So far as their borrowing capacity was concerned, he could have walked up the marble steps of any broker"s office or bank on either side of the street--that is, wherever he was known, and he was still remembered by many of them--thrust the package through the cashier"s window, and walked down again with a certified check for their face value in his pocket.