The look was not deceptive. Royalty had on a time sat in this room: here granted audience to the great"s higher circle, of greatness; there, beyond that door, nowadays admitting ragged sufferers from a fourth-cla.s.s "waiting-room," slept in state with doubtless royal snores.
This, in fact, was the old Dabney House"s famous "state suite," Vivian"s office the culminating grand sitting-room, the building art"s best in the "40s. A famous hostelry the Dabney House had been in its day, the chosen foregathering-place of notabilities now long dusted to the common level. Hither had trooped the gallant and the gay, the knight in his pride and beauty in her power, great statesmen and greater belles, their lovers and their sycophants. Here, in the memorable ball still talked of by silvered ladies of an elder day, the Great Personage had trod his measure with peerless Mary Marshall.
A great history had the Dabney House, and now nothing much else beside.
Built upon a flouting of a common law, it had lived to see the westward course of progress, deaf to sentiment as ever, kick it far astern. Long since had the world of fashion deserted it to its memories. Desolate and mice-ridden stood the fading pile in a neighborhood where further decay was hardly possible, enveloped by failure and dirt and poverty, misery and sin and the sound of unholy revelry by night. "The lion and the lizard keep the courts where Jamshd gloried and drank deep." And the vast moulded corridors, historied with great names, echoed to the feet of Garlands, Vivians, and Goldnagels, and over the boards once enn.o.bled by the press of royal feet, a shabby young man sat writing into a book with a villainous pen, as follows:
Rent $12.
Board 20.
Laundry 3.25
Dr. Vivian had, in short, induced himself to the casting-up of his monthly accounts, a task of weariness and travail. As to-morrow was the first day of the year, it was natural that he should thus occupy his half-hour of leisure, but as he was unmethodical by nature it was also natural that he should be casting up the account for November, December (which included Christmas) being as yet unlooked into. Jottings on loose bits of paper supplied the necessary data, or didn"t, as the case might be.
The young man scratched his head, and continued:
Car-tickets $1.25 Tobacco .40 Soap .15 Shaving ditto .19 Gas 2.40 Pencils .03
"Aha!" said V. Vivian, after a considerable interval; and penned triumphantly:
Matches .05 Beads (Corinne) .49
Followed a long pause.
On the opposite, or left-hand, page of the ledger there stood:
Income 50.
Receipts 6.40 ----- Total 56.40
Vivian"s dead father, though the absent-minded inventor of the turbine that would never quite work, had somehow contrived not to make away with every penny of his wife"s Beirne inheritance. Very few unsuccessful inventors could say as much. And this fact accounted for the complicating term "Income," whose regular presence in the budget was certainly a trifle awkward for the despiser of property, aligning him out of hand with the wealthy cla.s.ses; but to the individual was undoubtedly most comforting, since it set a man economically free forever. You never have to do anything for money, with fifty dollars a month. Receipts were, of course, moneys taken in for services rendered.
If Vivian"s sick insisted on paying him a little something for his trouble, he thought it moral not to restrain them. However, the sick"s att.i.tude was commonly the reverse of the above....
Ignoring "Receipts," as a highly uncertain quant.i.ty, the scheme of income and outgo commonly left a net monthly balance of about ten dollars for works of a philanthropic nature. From a strictly scientific point of view, the budget contained an unsoundness, in that it allowed nothing for depreciation of plant, so to say: the necessity for fresh supplies of a personal nature really was not duly faced in it. However, the doctor had so far eliminated all expenditures in that quarter, save only for a little half-soling matter week before last. He was confident that it would all work out very satisfactorily when occasion arose.
The trial balance to-night developed a shortage of $1.22. Before the budgeteer could precisely place it, his attention became diverted by something else, to return no more that evening. Having drawn a stray sheet of paper toward him to scribble on it "Milk for Miggs," he was caught and engrossed by other inscriptions on the sheet, noted down in the early forenoon. They ran:
Heth Works (Pickle) Art in _Factory Worker_ See Mr. Dayne--Settlement--Begin canva.s.s not before Feb. 1. H. c.o.o.ney Todd Inst.--Night School?
Socks?--Or darning Playground. (Council Com. meets Fri. 5 P.M.) Jack D.
Mrs. G. Loan 20c.
Through the next to the last item, Vivian absently drew a pencil mark, the weekly cheering letter to Weymouth, Texas, having been written just after the memorandum. However, the young man"s eye remained fixed on the item erased. He lit his pipe, took his head in both hands and continued to stare....
Dalhousie had called at the Dabney House on the night of his departure for the new country. His reappearance in the flesh proved at least that that fierce instability of character, which betrays men in moments of disaster to the irreparable rashness, was not in him. So much was a comfort, for the witch fear had ridden Vivian in the silent weeks following the Beach.
But the reparting was a heart-rack none the less. Dalhousie was no lifelong friend like O"Neill, or even like Chas c.o.o.ney. But Vivian, having made his acquaintance most informally one night in the summer, had responded at sight to the unconscious claim of weakness; he had come to feel a strong bond, conceived splendid reformatory plans. The boy"s fall and disgrace, coming like a crash from the blue, had been a severe shock to him, which would last. His self-exile, while probably advisable for a time at least, had been a prospect full of sadness. If poor Dalhousie had, woven into him, a vitiating twist for self-dramatization, if he said, "My G.o.d, why can"t I die?" less with the terrible dignity of ruin than like a lad portraying his idea of ruin on the stage, his native missing of the utter ring of truth never occurred to Vivian. To him this boy, broken for cowardice and cast off by his father and friends, was as tragic a figure as Oedipus.
And what made the farewell so peculiarly sad was that Dal, out of his painful bewilderment, was evidently still clinging to some sort of hope.
He himself had said, and said again, that there was no hope for such as he. He admitted with bitterness his insane pa.s.sion that sunny afternoon; remembered and acknowledged a wild impulse to overturn the boat, and let come what might. He paced the floor and cried out that nothing that they said of him could be too bad. And yet he hoped. He had come to the Dabney House with hope. He had given his Texas address with a falter of hope.
But of course there was no hope. Drink, the great fowler, had bagged one more....
Without, there rose a lonesome booming, far and ghostly in the stillness of the great empty hotel. It was the Garlands" crazy clock, memento of Mister in his prodigal bridal days. Harried forever by some obscure intestinal disorder, the mad timepiece stayed voiceless for days together, and then, without warning, embarked upon an orgy of profligate strikings. Now it struck fourteen, and fell abruptly silent.
Vivian stirred, and remembered the reception. His uncle, who derided and castigated his Dabney House career, had said emphatically that he would consider it most disrespectful if his solitary nephew absented himself from the annual greeting of friends. The nephew, since his home-coming, had grown very fond of the old gentleman. Yet he knew quite well that he wasn"t giving up this evening solely to please his uncle.
He rose, relit his pipe, and walked about. Though useful bones were missing from his left foot, he liked to walk: was rather an accomplished pedestrian. In time he came to a halt before a dilapidated little cabinet partly full of the shiny tools of his trade. The cabinet seemed quite out of place in the tall state chamber: but then so did the man.
He did not look in the least like a doctor (just as Miss Heth had said).
The faint scent of iodoform that he now gave off was a heterogeneity, like a whiff of brandy on a parson.
The young man stood gazing into his cabinet, fathoms deep in thought.
That Miss Heth was responsible for a meaningless lie which took away more than life itself from one who had loved her truly in his way: this was a hypothesis so wild and weak that it collapsed at the first opportunity for calm, just examination. The sight of her again, the other night, had merely clinched the matter; driven by a glance the last nail in the coffin of Dalhousie"s hope; and by the same stroke, swept away the last lingering trace of diabolical suspicion. But that Miss Heth had treated Dal pretty badly before the Beach was only too probable. The boy"s bitter complainings had left small doubt of that.
It is a world in which we must be just before we are generous.
Unfortunately, there could be little question that this girl with the heavenly face had a certain touch--should we say?--of earthy hardness in her, a certain induration of the spirit. She had shown it quite plainly in her general att.i.tude toward Dal in the hour of his need. She had shown it again, in a sort of way, in her att.i.tude toward the Works.
Not, indeed, in her resentment at his letter. Anything but resentment there would have been unnatural, not to say inhuman and despisable, in a daughter. Of course no girl worth a pinch of salt would allow you to stand up and say that her father was a shameless homicide. Her anger there did her the greatest credit: showed beyond doubt that she was absolutely sound at heart.... Trouble was, of course, that she didn"t know anything about the Works, and didn"t want to know. She supposed that those scores of girls who went daily to her father"s bunching-room had nothing to do with her.
The night was cold; V. Vivian stood warming his hands over a second-hand gas-stove, which leaked perceptibly.... Great heavens, how could it possibly be otherwise? Was not this the way of all the world? Let a little prosperity come to a poor peasant, and the first thing he did was to stop eating five from the same bowl. That was Tolstoy; and that was the way, through all peoples and all times, riches had meant segregation from the Common.... Round and round them pulsed the great warm tide of real life, and, stung by this mad blindness, men sweated and fought their lives away trying to scramble up out of the enriching stream upon a sterile little island. You could almost have forgiven them if they were happy upon their island. But happiness is born in the heart, and they who seek it elsewhere in the end hold Sodom apples in fingers through which the pearl of great price has somewhere slipped on the way....
"Mr. V.V.! Ain"t you dressing _yet_!" said a voice from without. "Mommer says remind you it"s after nine o"clock."
The tall young man came to earth with a thud. A startled frown gathered quickly on his brow.
"_What?_... Then I"m late indeed. _Nine o"clock!_ I don"t see how it"s possible...."
He seized Commissioner O"Neill"s suitcase from the operating-table, with a panic show of hurry.
Kern"s voice took on a cheering inflection.
"Don"t you mind, Mr. V.V. All the swells"ll be late. D"you want me to help you, sir? Don"t you want me put in your studs "r something?"
Mr. V.V. set down the suitcase, dealt a mortal blow.
"I have no studs," he said, in a quiet, scared way.
A little exclamation without was followed by: "Can I come in, sir?"
"Yes, yes; come in. But this is rather serious. I confess I--don"t see how it"s going to work out...."
The door opened and Kern tripped in with a little kick, and a flash and tinkle of jewelry at neck and waist. She never merely walked when it was possible to dance.
"My regular shirts," said the young man, standing on the floor and brushing his hair with a worried hand, "have the b.u.t.tons sewed on, of course.... Seems to me O"Neill might have thought of this contingency."
Kern repressed a desire to giggle at Doctor"s air of helplessness, and controlled her itching feet. She was not wanting in the resourcefulness of the poor.
"I"ll get you studs, Mr. V.V.," said she, eagerly. "Less see now--where"ll I get "em?... I"ll get "em at Lazarus"s--that"s where!
I"ll have "em here in five minutes, and right in your shirt."
Lazarus? Why, they shut up at six o"clock. Yes, but Willie Walter, he slept behind the counter, and was abed right now, on account of getting up so early. Just let her bang the door in the alley a couple of times, that was all. Moreover, Walter being obliging, it agreeably developed that the studs would come as a temporary loan, if desired. An evening"s wear out of them, and then back on the card and into stock again, the same as new, and n.o.body the wiser. Lazarus would do the same.
"It"s very nice of you, Corinne," said the young man, picking up the suitcase again. "Something in pearl or plain gold, perhaps. Come straight back now. I don"t like at all for you to be running the streets at night--"