Money Magic: A Novel

by Hamlin Garland

  CHAPTER XIX

  THE FARTHER EAST

  Haney visibly brightened as the days went by, and took long rides in hisauto, sometimes with Bertha, sometimes alone with Lucius, and now andthen with some old acquaintance, who, having seen his name in the paper,ventured to call. They were not very savory characters, to tell thetruth, and he did not always introduce them to Bertha, but as his healthimproved he called upon a few of the more reputable of them,billiard-table agents, and the like of that, and to these proudlyexhibited his wife.

  Bertha had hitherto accepted this with boyish tolerance, but now itirritated her. Some of these visitors presumed on her husband's past andtreated her with a certain freedom of tone and looseness of tongue whichmade plain even to her unsuspecting nature that they put no high valueon her virtue--in fact, one fellow went so far as to facetiously ask,"Where did Mart find you? Are there any more out there?" And she feltthe insult, though she did not know how to resent it.

  Haney, so astute in many things, saw nothing out of the way in thisoff-hand treatment of his wife. He would have killed the man who daredto touch her, and yet he stood smilingly by while some chanceacquaintance treated her as if she had been picked out of a Denvergutter. This threw Bertha upon her own defence, and at last she madeeven impudence humble itself. She carried herself like a young warrior,sure of her power and quick of defence.

  She refused to invite her husband's friends to lunch, and the first realargument she had thus far held with him came about in this way. Shesaid, "Yes, you can ask Mr. Black or Mr. Brown to dinner, but I won'tset at the same table with them."

  "Why not?" he asked.

  "Because they're not the kind of men I want to eat with," she bluntlyreplied. "They're just a little too coarse for me."

  "They're good business men and have fine homes--"

  "Do they invite you to their homes?"

  "They do not," he admitted, "but they may--after our dinner."

  "Lucius says it's their business to lead out--and he knows. I don't mindyour lunching these dubs every day if you want to, but I keep clear of'em. I tell you those!"

  And so it fell out that while she was going about with the Mosses andtheir kind, Mart was explaining to Black and Brown that his wife "was alittle shy." "You see she grew up in the hills like a doe antelope, andit's hard for her to get wonted to the noise of a great city," helaboriously set forth, but at heart he did not blame her. He was comingto find them a little "coarse" himself.

  Humiston was deeply enthralled by Bertha's odd speech, her beauty, hercalm use of money, and lingered on day by day, spending nearly all histime at Moss's studio or at the hotel, seeking Mrs. Haney's company. Hehad never met her like, and confessed as much to Moss, who jocularlyretorted: "That's saying a good deal--for you've seen quite a few."

  Humiston ignored this thrust. "She has beauty, imagination, and immensepossibilities. She don't know herself. When she wakes up to her power,then look out! She can't go on long with this old, worn-out gambler."

  "Oh, Haney isn't such a beast as you make him out. Bertha told me he hadnever crossed her will. He's really very kind and generous."

  "That may be true, and yet he's a mill-stone about her neck. It's ashame--a waste of beauty--for the girl is a beauty."

  It was with a sense of relief that Moss heard Bertha say to his wife: "Iguess I've had enough of this. It's me to the high ground to-morrow."

  "Aren't you going on to the metropolis?"

  "I don't think it. I'm hungry for the peaks--and, besides, our horsesneed exercise. I think I'll pull out for the West to-morrow and leavethe Captain and Lucius to go East together. I don't believe I need NewYork."

  To this arrangement Haney reluctantly consented. "You're missin' a wholelot, Bertie. I don't feel right in goin' on to Babylon without ye. Ireckon you'd better reconsider the motion. However, I'll not be gonelong, and if I find the old Dad hearty I may bring him home with me.He's liable to be livin' with John Donahue. Charles said he was ashiffless whelp, and there's no telling how he's treating the old man.Anyhow, I'll let you know."

  She relented a little. "Ma'be I ought to go. I hate to see you startingoff alone."

  "Sure now! don't ye worry, darling. Lucius is handy as a bootjack, andwe'll get along fine. Besides, I may come back immegitly, for themmine-owners are cooking a hell-broth for us all. Havin' a governor ontheir side now, they must set out to show their power."

  Ben kept them supplied with home papers, and as Bertha took up one ofthese journals she found herself played upon by familiar forms andfaces. The very names of the streets were an appeal. She saw herselfsporting with her hounds, riding with Fordyce over the flowery Mesa, orfacing him in his sun-bright office discussing the world's events anddeciding upon their own policies and expenditures. She grew veryhomesick as these pleasant, familiar pictures freshened in her vision,and her faith in Ben's honesty and essential goodness came back to her.Moreover her mind was not at rest regarding Haney; much as she longed togo home, she felt it her duty to remain with him, and as she lay in herbed she thought of him with much the same pity a daughter feels for adisabled father. "He's given me a whole lot--I ought to stay by him."

  She admitted also a flutter of fear at thought of meeting Ben Fordycealone, and this unformulated distrust of herself decided her at last togo on with Mart and to have him for shield and armor when she returnedto the Springs.

  There are certain ways in which books instruct women--and men, too, forthat matter--but there are other and more vital processes in which onlyexperience (individual or inherited) teaches. In her desultory reading,little Mrs. Haney, like every other citizen, had taken imaginative partin many murders, seductions, and marital infidelities; and yet themotives for such deeds had never before seemed human. Now the darkplaces in the divorce trials, the obscure charges in the testimony ofdeserted wives, were suddenly illumined. She realized how easy it wouldbe to make trouble between Mart and herself. She understood the stainthose strangers in the car could put upon her, and she trembled at themere thought of Mart's inquiring eyes when he should know of it. Whyshould he know of it? It was all over and done with. There was only onething to do--forget it.

  Surely life was growing complex. With bewildering swiftness theexperiences of a woman of the world were advancing upon her, and she,with no brother or father to be her guard, or friend to give hercharacter, with a husband whose very name and face were injuries, wasfinding men in the centres of culture quite as predatory as among thehills, where Mart Haney's fame still made his glance a warning. Thesefew weeks in Chicago had added a year to her development, but she darednot face Ben Fordyce alone--not just yet--not till her mind had cleared.

  In the midst of her doubt of herself and of him a message came whichmade all other news of no account. He was on his way to Chicago toconsult Mart (so the words ran), but in her soul she knew he was comingto see her. Was it to test her? Had he taken silence for consent? Was heabout to try her faith in him and her loyalty to her husband?

  His telegram read: "Coming on important business." That might meanconcerning the mine--on the surface; but beneath ran something morevital to them both than any mine or labor war, something which developedin the girl both fear and wonder--fear of the power that came from hiseyes, wonder of the world his love had already opened to her. What wasthe meaning of this mad, sweet riot of the blood--this forgetfulness ofall the rest of the world--this longing which was both pleasure andpain, doubt and delight, which turned her face to the West as thoughthrough a long, shining vista she saw love's messenger speeding towardsher?

  Sleep kept afar, and she lay restlessly turning till long aftermidnight, and when she slept she dreamed, not of him, but of Sibley andher mother and the toil-filled, untroubled days of her girlhood. Sherose early next morning and awaited his coming with more of physicalweakness as well as of uncertainty of mind than she had ever knownbefore.

  Haney was also up and about, an hour ahead of his schedule, sure thatBen's business concerned the mine. "It's the labor
war breaking outagain," he repeated. "I feel it in my bones. If it is, back I go, forthe boys will be nading me."

  They went to the station in their auto-car, but, at Bertha's suggestion,Mart sent Lucius in to meet their attorney and to direct him where tofind them. The young wife had a feeling that to await him at the gatemight give him a false notion of her purpose. She grew faint and herthroat contracted as if a strong hand clutched it as she saw his tallform advancing, but almost instantly his frank and eager face, his clearglance, his simple and cordial greeting disarmed her, transmuted herhalf-shaped doubts into golden faith. He was true and good--of that shewas completely reassured. Her spirits soared, and the glow came back toher cheek.

  Fordyce, looking up at her, was filled with astonishment at the pictureof grace and ease which she presented, as she leaned to take his hand.She shone, unmistakable mistress of the car, while Haney filled the roleof trusted Irish coachman.

  As he climbed in, the young lawyer remarked merrily, "I don't knowwhether I approve of this extravagance or not." He tapped the car door.

  "It's mighty handy for the Captain," she replied. "You see he can't getround in the street-cars very well, and he says this is cheaper thancabs in the long run."

  "It has never proved economical to me; but it _is_ handy," he answered,with admiration of her growing mastery of wealth.

  And so with something fiercely beating in their hearts these youthfulwarriors struggled to be true to others--fighting against themselves asagainst domestic traitors, while they talked of the mine, the statejudiciary, the operators, and the unions. Their words were impersonal,prosaic of association, but their eyes spoke of love as the diamondspeaks of light. Ben's voice, carefully controlled, was vibrant with thepoetry that comes but once in the life of a man, and she listened inthat perfect content which makes gold and glory but the decorations ofthe palace where adoration dwells.

  The great, smoky, thunderous city somehow added to the sweetness of themeeting--made it the more precious, like a song in a tempest. It seemedto Ben Fordyce as if he had never really lived before. The very need ofconcealment gave his unspoken passion a singular quality--a tang of thewilding, the danger-some, which his intimacy with Alice had neverpossessed.

  The Haneys' suite of rooms at the hotel called for comment. "SurelyHaney is feeling the power of money--but why not; who has a better rightto lovely things than Bertha?" Then aloud he repeated: "How well you'relooking--both of you! City life agrees with you. I never saw you look sowell."

  This remark, innocent on its surface, brought self-consciousness toBertha, for the light of his glance expressed more than admiration; andeven as they stood facing each other, alive to the same disturbingflush, Lucius called Haney from the room, leaving them alone together.The moment of Ben's trial had come.

  For a few seconds the young wife waited in breathless silence for him tospeak, a sense of her own wordlessness lying like a weight upon her.Into the cloud of her confusion his voice came bringing confidence andcalm. "I feel that you have forgiven me--your eyes seem to say so. Icouldn't blame you if you despised me. I won't say my feeling haschanged, for it hasn't. It may be wrong to say so--it is wrong, but Ican't help it. Please tell me that you forgive me. I will be happier ifyou do, and I will never offend again." His accent was at once softlypleading and manly, and, as she raised her eyes to his in restoredself-confidence, she murmured a quaint, short, reassuring phrase: "Oh,that's all right!" Her glance, so shy, so appealing, united to thehalf-humorous words of her reply, were so surely of the Mountain-Westthat Ben was quite swept from the high ground of his resolution, and hishands leaped towards her with an almost irresistible embracing impulse."You sweet girl!" he exclaimed.

  "Don't!" she said, starting back in alarm--"don't!"

  His face changed instantly, the clear candor of his voice reassured her."Don't be afraid. I mean what I said. You need have no fear that I--thatmy offence will be repeated;" then, with intent to demonstrate hisself-command, he abruptly changed the subject. "The Congdons sent theirlove to you, and Miss Franklin commissioned me to tell you that she willgive you all her time next summer--if you wish her to do so."

  She was glad of this message and added: "I need her, sure thing. Everyday I spend here makes me seem like Mary Ann--I don't see how people cantalk as smooth as they do. I'm crazy to get to school again and make upfor lost time. Joe Moss makes me feel like a lead quarter. Being herewith all these nice people and not able to talk with them is no fun.Couldn't I whirl in and go to school somewhere back here?"

  "Oh no, that isn't necessary. You are getting your education byassociation--you are improving very fast."

  Her face lighted up. "Am I? Do you mean it?"

  "I do mean it. No one would know--to see you here--that you had notenjoyed all the advantages."

  "Oh yes, but I'm such a bluff. When I open my mouth they all begin togrin. They're onto my game all right."

  He smiled. "That's because of your picturesque phrases--they like tohear you speak. I assure you no one would think of calling you awkwardor--or lacking in--in charm."

  Haney's return cut short this defensive dialogue, and with a sense ofrelief Bertha retreated--almost fled to her room--leaving the two men todiscuss their business.

  At the moment she had no wish to participate in a labor controversy. Shewas entirely the woman at last, roused to the overpowering value of herown inheritance. Her desire to manage, to calculate, to plan herhusband's affairs was gone, and in its place was a willingness tosubmit, a wish for protection which she had not hitherto acknowledged.She brooded for a time on Ben's words, then hurriedly began todress--with illogical desire to make herself beautiful in his eyes. Asshe re-entered the room she caught Haney's repeated declaration--"I willbe loyal to the men"--and Ben's reply.

  "Very well, I'll go back and do the best I can to keep them in line, butWilliams says the governor is entirely on the side of themine-operators."

  "Does he?" retorted Haney. "Well, you say to the governor that MartHaney was a gambler and saloon-keeper during the other 'war,' and nowthat he's a mine-owner, with money to hire a regiment of deppyties, hisheart is with the red-neckers--just where it was. Owning a paying minehas not changed me heart to a stone."

  Ben, as well as Bertha, understood the pride he took in not whifflingwith the shift of wind, but at the same time he considered it a foolishkind of loyalty. "Very well, I'll take the six-o'clock train to-night inorder to be on hand."

  "What's the rush?" said Haney; "stay on a day or two and see the townwith us--'tis a great show."

  Bertha, re-entering at this moment in her shining gown, put the youngattorney's Spartan resolution to rout. He stammered: "I ought to be onthe ground before the mine-owners begin to open fire, and,besides--Alice is not very well."

  At the mention of Alice's name Bertha's glance wavered and her eyelidsfell. She did not urge him to stay, and Haney spoke up, heartily: "I'msorry to hear she's not well. She was pretty as a rose the night of thedinner."

  "She lives on her nerves," Ben replied, falling into sadness. "One dayshe's up in the clouds and dancing, the next she's flat in her bed in adarkened room unwilling to see anybody."

  "'Tis the way of the White Death," thought Haney, but he spokehopefully: "Well, spring is here and a long summer before her--she'll beherself against October."

  "I trust so," said Ben, but Bertha could see that he was losing hope andthat his life was being darkened by the presence of the death angel.

  Haney changed the current of all their thinking by saying to Bertha: "Ifyou are minded to go home, now is your chance, acushla. You can returnwith Mr. Fordyce, while Lucius and I go on to New York the morning."

  "No, no!" she cried out in a panic. "No, I am going with you--I want tosee New York myself," she added, in justification. The thought of thelong journey with Ben Fordyce filled her with a kind of terror, afeeling she had never known before. She needed protection againstherself.

  "Very well," said Haney, "that's settled. Now let's show Mr. For
dyce thetown."

  Ben put aside his doubt and went forth with them, resolute to make amerry day of it. He seemed to regain all his care-free temper, butBertha remained uneasy and at times abnormally distraught. She spokewith effort and listened badly, so busily was she wrought upon byunbidden thoughts. The question of her lover's disloyalty to AliceHeath, strange to say, had not hitherto troubled her--so selfishly, sochildishly had her own relationship to him filled her mind. She now sawthat Alice Heath was as deeply concerned in Ben's relationship to her asHaney, and the picture of the poor, pale, despairing lady, worn withweeping, persistently came between her and the scenes Mart pointed outon their trips about the city. Did Alice know--did she suspect? Was thatwhy she was sinking lower and lower into the shadow?

  With these questions to be answered, as well as those she had alreadyput to herself concerning Mart, she could not enjoy the day's outing.She rode through the parks with cold hands and white lips, and sat amidthe color and bustle and light of the dining-room with only spasmodicreturn of her humorous, girlish self. The love which shone from Ben'sadmiring eyes only added to her uneasiness.

  She was very lovely in a new gown that disclosed her firm, rounded youngbosom, like a rosebud within its calyx--the distraction upon her browsomehow adding to the charm of her face--and Ben thought her the mostwonderful girl he had ever known, so outwardly at ease and in commandwas she. "Could any one," he thought, "be more swiftly adaptable?"

  They went to the theatre, and her beauty and her curiously unsmilingface aroused the admiration and curiosity of many others of those whosaw her. At last, under the influence of the music, her eyes lost theirshadow and grew tender and wistful. She ceased to question herself andgave herself up to the joy of the moment. The play and themelody--hackneyed to many of those present--appealed to her imagination,liberating her from the earth and all its concerns. She turned to Benwith eyes of rapture, saying, "Isn't it lovely!"

  And he, to whom the music was outworn and a little shoddy, instantlyagreed. "Yes, it is very beautiful," and he meant it, for her pleasurein it brought back a knowledge of the charm it had once possessed.

  They dined together at the hotel, but the thought of Ben's departurebrought a pang into Bertha's heart, and she fell back into her uneasy,distracted musing. She was being tempted, through her husband, whorepeated with the half-forgetfulness of age and weakness, "You'd bettergo back with Mr. Fordyce, Bertie," but there was something stronger thanher individual will in her reply--some racial resolution which came downthe line of her good ancestry, and with almost angry outcry sheanswered:

  "There's no use talking that! I'm going with you," and with this sheended the outward siege, but the inward battle was not closed till shehad taken and dropped the hand her lover held out in parting nextmorning, and even then she turned away, with his eyes and the tendercadences of his voice imprinted so vividly on her memory that she couldnot banish them, and she set face towards the farther East with thecontest of duty and desire still going forward in her blood.