"I never was so frightened in my life," Jean said, as they drove in front of the gate. "It seems that no one is safe from insult and injury in a land where liquor is a legalized drink. I never thought that I should fall a victim to it."
"Or be rescued by a liquor dealer."
"That is true," and Jean laughed merrily.
Then she thanked him again, and for half a minute he held her small, gloved hand in his, as he a.s.sisted her from the buggy.
"It is I who am grateful that Fate allowed me to be the knight." Then he lifted his hat gallantly, and Jean was gone, but her parting smile stayed with him.
CHAPTER VII.
THE JUDGE MAKES A DISCOVERY.
After the adventure at the army post Mr. Allison called not infrequently at the home of the Thorns, and though, of course, cordially received by both Jean and her father, nearly always succeeded in leaving Jean thoroughly vexed with him. She made speeches and drew statistics for him, enough in strength and numbers to convert the traffic itself, and was generally rewarded for her pains by an amused look and a good-natured laugh. He seemed to her to be asleep, sound asleep; and try as best she might, it seemed impossible to awaken him; and yet she looked for his visits and enjoyed the task she had set herself about more than she would have cared to admit.
The fact was, Mr. Allison had been born asleep as far as his relation with the liquor question was concerned. From his father he inherited his interest in the business firm of which he was the junior member, and having been brought up in this atmosphere, he neither knew nor cared for any other. A man possessing even half a portion of real integrity is so rarely found engaged in the liquor business that this man"s character was often spoken of. Whether he was honest may be doubted, but certain it was, he was not bidding for the church vote by making promises and prayers. Yet the cloak of respectability that he wore made him ten times more dangerous than one of baser worth would have been; but his cloak, it is well to remember, differed only in color from the cloak worn by unnumbered men, to-day posing before a long-suffering people as Christian leaders.
In spite of the indifference of Mr. Allison and the vexation of Jean, each felt the subtle power of attraction in the other that neither could explain.
One night when sitting closer than usual to her side, he calmly possessed himself of one of her hands.
"You are quite an enigma to me," he said. "How can you be a bit comfortable in such close proximity to a representative of the unG.o.dly traffic?"
"I cannot," she answered, pulling at her hand. "I will go away."
"Will you?" and he tightened the pressure of his fingers.
Jean dropped her head on her free hand and was very still. Mr. Allison, watching her, presently saw a tear-drop on her cheek.
He put his arm around her, and would have drawn her to him, but with a firm, gentle touch, the meaning of which was unmistakable, she pushed his arm aside, and, rising, stood before him.
The faint trace of tears still marked her eyes, and her voice was a trifle unsteady.
"Mr. Allison, we cannot be even friends! We just cannot! You are a "man atom of the great iniquity.""
She crossed the room, and, raising a shade, stood looking absently into the moonlight. Gilbert Allison leaned forward and seemed trying to obtain the solution of some mystery from the outlines of her figure.
She still stood there when Judge Thorn entered from an adjoining room, and while he conversed with her liquor-dealer lover, Jean left the room to return no more that night.
But Mr. Allison was not thus to be disposed of.
A few evenings pa.s.sed, and he was again announced a visitor at the Thorn home, and Jean appeared really very glad to see him, considering that they were never to be friends. After a few moments of casual conversation he took from his pocket an evening paper, folded so that she could not miss the reading, and held it before her eyes.
From the item thus displayed she learned that Gilbert Allison, late of the firm of Allison, Russell & Joy, had withdrawn his interest in the firm to be placed in other investments.
The conversation that followed the reading of this announcement, while confidential, was not a long one, but at its close Gilbert Allison knew more of that firmness born of a woman"s conviction than he had ever dreamed.
Judge Thorn looked comfortable in his leather chair, his slippered feet on a ha.s.sock and a new book in his hand. At any rate, Jean thought so, as she studied him from between the parted curtains, but she was relentless. Stealing softly behind him, she pressed her hands over his eyes. The judge started, and the young lady laughed merrily.
Then she tried to steal away his book, but he held it.
"Let me put it up, father, I want to talk to you."
The judge still held the book.
"Then I will say "please.""
"Is it to be a political conversation?" he asked, gravely.
"Not a breath of politics about it," she answered.
"Any statistics to be brought in?" he questioned further.
Jean laughed again.
"Really, father," she said, "I think I may hope to win you yet. When a judge, and a Republican at that, finds it hard to vindicate his party"s doings, and finds statistics overwhelmingly against his party"s policy on moral questions, he will look for better things in better places. At this period of his political transmigration I believe a man is more to be pitied for misplaced confidence than blamed for tardy understanding.
No, father, not a statistic to-night, unless you compel me to bring them out in self-defense."
Judge Thorn slowly released his book.
"Now," said Jean triumphantly, "we are ready for a nice long talk, that is, if you feel equal to the task of talking. What I have to say will not take long. It is about a little interview between Mr. Allison and--Judge Thorn"s daughter, and if I had been less of a "crank," I suppose you would have had another son-in-law in prospect."
"Yes?" questioned the judge. "Then I have been mistaken when I have thought at times that you cared for him."
Jean remained silent a few minutes, then looked up quickly into her father"s face.
"You are my best, my dearest friend, father. I will tell you truly. You have not been mistaken. I love Gilbert Allison, and I cannot help it to save my life."
When Judge Thorn spoke again his voice had changed somewhat. He spoke as if his words were escaping from beneath a weight.
"Better than you do me, Jean?"
She did not answer at once; then she caught her father"s eye, and smiled as she said:
"You want the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?"
"Go on," was the judge"s quiet reply.
"Then it is "yes," father."
A shadow pa.s.sed over the face of the judge for an instant that carried Jean back to her childhood days, when she used to wonder, as she mused, why it was that her father always looked so sad.