There was greater activity in the Rossmore cottage at Massapequathan there had been any day since the judge and his wife went tolive there. Since daybreak Eudoxia had been scouring and polishingin honour of the expected arrival and a hundred times Mrs.Rossmore had climbed the stairs to see that everything was as itshould be in the room which had been prepared for Shirley. It wasnot, however, without a passage at arms that Eudoxia consented toconsider the idea of an addition to the family. Mrs. Rossmore hadsaid to her the day before:
"My daughter will be here to-morrow, Eudoxia."
A look expressive of both displeasure and astonishment marred theclassic features of the hireling. Putting her broom aside andplacing her arms akimbo she exclaimed in an injured tone:
"And it's a dayther you've got now? So it's three in family youare! When I took the place it's two you tould me there was!"
"Well, with your kind permission," replied Mrs. Rossmore, "therewill be three in future. There is nothing in the Constitution ofthe United States that says we can't have a daughter withoutconsulting our help, is there?"
The sarcasm of this reply did not escape even the dull-edged witsof the Irish drudge. She relapsed into a dignified silence and afew minutes later was discovered working with some show ofenthusiasm.
The judge was nervous and fidgety. He made a pretence to read, butit was plain to see that his mind was not on his book. He keptleaving his chair to go and look at the clock; then he would laythe volume aside and wander from room to room like a lost soul.His thoughts were on the dock at Hoboken.
By noon every little detail had been attended to and there wasnothing further to do but sit and wait for the arrival of Stottand Shirley. They were to be expected any moment now. Thepassengers had probably got off the steamer by eleven o'clock. Itwould take at least two hours to get through the Customs and outto Massapequa. The judge and his wife sat on the porch countingthe minutes and straining their ears to catch the first sound ofthe train from New York.
"I hope Stott broke the news to her gently," said the judge.
"I wish we had gone to meet her ourselves," sighed his wife.
The judge was silent and for a moment or two he puffed vigorouslyat his pipe, as was his habit when disturbed mentally. Then hesaid:
"I ought to have gone, Martha, but I was afraid. I'm afraid tolook my own daughter in the face and tell her that I am adisgraced man, that I am to be tried by the Senate for corruption,perhaps impeached and turned off the bench as if I were acriminal. Shirley won't believe it, sometimes I can't believe itmyself. I often wake up in the night and think of it as part of adream, but when the morning comes it's still true--it's stilltrue!"
He smoked on in silence. Then happening to look up he noticed thathis wife was weeping. He laid his hand gently on hers.
"Don't cry, dear, don't make it harder for me to bear. Shirleymust see no trace of tears."
"I was thinking of the injustice of it all," replied Mrs.Rossmore, wiping her eyes.
"Fancy Shirley in this place, living from hand to mouth," went onthe judge.
"That's the least," answered his wife. "She's a fine, handsomegirl, well educated and all the rest of it. She ought to make agood marriage." No matter what state of mind Mrs. Rossmore mightbe in, she never lost sight of the practical side of things.
"Hardly with her father's disgrace hanging over her head," repliedthe judge wearily. "Who," he added, "would have the courage tomarry a girl whose father was publicly disgraced?"
Both relapsed into another long silence, each mentally reviewingthe past and speculating on the future. Suddenly Mrs. Rossmorestarted. Surely she could not be mistaken! No, the clanging of alocomotive bell was plainly audible. The train was in. From thedirection of the station came people with parcels and hand bagsand presently there was heard the welcome sound of carriage wheelscrunching over the stones. A moment later they saw coming roundthe bend in the road a cab piled up with small baggage.
"Here they are! Here they are!" cried Mrs. Rossmore. "Come,Eudoxia!" she called to the servant, while she herself hurrieddown to the gate. The judge, fully as agitated as herself, onlyshowing his emotion in a different way, remained on the porch paleand anxious.
The cab stopped at the curb and Stott alighted, first helping outMrs. Blake. Mrs. Rossmore's astonishment on seeing her sister wasalmost comical.
"Milly!" she exclaimed.
They embraced first and explained afterwards. Then Shirley got outand was in her mother's arms.
"Where's father?" was Shirley's first question.
"There--he's coming!"
The judge, unable to restrain his impatience longer, ran down fromthe porch towards the gate. Shirley, with a cry of mingled griefand joy, precipitated herself on his breast.
"Father! Father!" she cried between her sobs. "What have they doneto you?"
"There--there, my child. Everything will be well--everything willbe well."
Her head lay on his shoulder and he stroked her hair with hishand, unable to speak from pent up emotion.
Mrs. Rossmore could not recover from her stupefaction on seeingher sister. Mrs. Blake explained that she had come chiefly for thebenefit of the voyage and announced her intention of returning onthe same steamer.
"So you see I shall bother you only a few days," she said.
"You'll stay just as long as you wish," rejoined Mrs. Rossmore."Happily we have just one bedroom left." Then turning to Eudoxia,who was wrestling with the baggage, which formed a miniatureMatterhorn on the sidewalk, she gave instructions:
"Eudoxia, you'll take this lady's baggage to the small bedroomadjoining Miss Shirley's. She is going to stop with us for a fewdays."
Taken completely aback at the news of this new addition, Eudoxialooked at first defiance. She seemed on the point of handing inher resignation there and then. But evidently she thought betterof it, for, taking a cue from Mrs. Rossmore, she asked in thesarcastic manner of her mistress:
"Four is it now, M'm? I suppose the Constitootion of the UnitedStates allows a family to be as big as one likes to make it. It'shard on us girls, but if it's the law, it's all right, M'm. Themore the merrier!" With which broadside, she hung the bags allover herself and staggered off to the house.
Stott explained that the larger pieces and the trunks would comelater by express. Mrs. Rossmore took him aside while Mrs. Blakejoined Shirley and the judge.
"Did you tell Shirley?" asked Mrs. Rossmore. "How did she takeit?"
"She knows everything," answered Stott, "and takes it verysensibly. We shall find her of great moral assistance in ourcoming fight in the Senate," he added confidently.
[Pencil illustration of Shirley embracing her father at the gate of the cottage at Massapequa.]
"Father! Father! What have they done to you?"--_Page 161_.
Realizing that the judge would like to be left alone with Shirley,Mrs. Rossmore invited Mrs. Blake to go upstairs and see the roomshe would have, while Stott said he would be glad of a washup.When they had gone Shirley sidled up to her father in her oldfamiliar way.
"I've just been longing to see you, father," she said. She turnedto get a good look at him and noticing the lines of care which haddeepened during her absence she cried: "Why, how you've changed! Ican scarcely believe it's you. Say something. Let me hear thesound of your voice, father."
The judge tried to smile.
"Why, my dear girl, I--"
Shirley threw her arms round his neck.
"Ah, yes, now I know it's you," she cried.
"Of course it is, Shirley, my dear girl. Of course it is. Who elseshould it be?"
"Yes, but it isn't the same," insisted Shirley. "There is no ringto your voice. It sounds hollow and empty, like an echo. And thisplace," she added dolefully, "this awful place--"
She glanced around at the cracked ceilings, the cheaply paperedwalls, the shabby furniture, and her heart sank as she realizedthe extent of their misfortune. She had come back prepared for theworst, to help win the fight for her fathe
r's honour, but to haveto struggle against sordid poverty as well, to endure thathumiliation in addition to disgrace--ah, that was something shehad not anticipated! She changed colour and her voice faltered.Her father had been closely watching for just such signs and heread her thoughts.
"It's the best we can afford, Shirley," he said quietly. "The blowhas been complete. I will tell you everything. You shall judge foryourself. My enemies have done for me at last."
"Your enemies?" cried Shirley eagerly. "Tell me who they are so Imay go to them."
"Yes, dear, you shall know everything. But not now. You are tiredafter your journey. To-morrow sometime Stott and I will explaineverything."
"Very well, father, as you wish," said Shirley gently. "Afterall," she added in an effort to appear cheerful, "what matterwhere we live so long as we have each other?"
She drew away to hide her tears and left the room on pretence ofinspecting the house. She looked into the dining-room and kitchenand opened the cupboards, and when she returned there were novisible signs of trouble in her face.
"It's a cute little house, isn't it?" she said. "I've alwayswanted a little place like this--all to ourselves. Oh, if you onlyknew how tired I am of New York and its great ugly houses, itsretinue of servants and its domestic and social responsibilities!We shall be able to live for ourselves now, eh, father?"
She spoke with a forced gaiety that might have deceived anyone butthe judge. He understood the motive of her sudden change in mannerand silently he blessed her for making his burden lighter.
"Yes, dear, it's not bad," he said. "There's not much room,though."
"There's quite enough," she insisted. "Let me see." She began tocount on her fingers. "Upstairs--three rooms, eh? and above thatthree more--"
"No," smiled the judge, "then comes the roof?"
"Of course," she laughed, "how stupid of me--a nice gable roof, asloping roof that the rain runs off beautifully. Oh, I can seethat this is going to be awfully jolly--just like camping out. Youknow how I love camping out. And you have a piano, too."
She went over to the corner where stood one of those homelyinstruments which hardly deserve to be dignified by the namepiano, with a cheap, gaudily painted case outside and a tin paneffect inside, and which are usually to be found in the poorerclass of country boarding houses. Shirley sat down and ran herfingers over the keys, determined to like everything.
"It's a little old," was her comment, "but I like these zithereffects. It's just like the sixteenth century spinet. I can seeyou and mother dancing a stately minuet," she smiled.
"What's that about mother dancing?" demanded Mrs. Rossmore, who atthat instant entered the room. Shirley arose and appealed to her:
"Isn't it absurd, mother, when you come to think of it, thatanybody should accuse father of being corrupt and of havingforfeited the right to be judge? Isn't it still more absurd thatwe should be helpless and dejected and unhappy because we are onLong Island instead of Madison Avenue? Why should Manhattan Islandbe a happier spot than Long Island? Why shouldn't we be happyanywhere; we have each other. And we do need each other. We neverknew how much till to-day, did we? We must stand by each othernow. Father is going to clear his name of this preposterous chargeand we're going to help him, aren't we, mother? We're not helplessjust because we are women. We're going to work, mother and I."
"Work?" echoed Mrs. Rossmore, somewhat scandalized.
"Work," repeated Shirley very decisively.
The judge interfered. He would not hear of it.
"You work, Shirley? Impossible!"
"Why not? My book has been selling well while I was abroad. Ishall probably write others. Then I shall write, too, for thenewspapers and magazines. It will add to our income."
"Your book--'The American Octopus,' is selling well?" inquired thejudge, interested.
"So well," replied Shirley, "that the publishers wrote me in Paristhat the fourth edition was now on the press. That means goodroyalties. I shall soon be a fashionable author. The publisherswill be after me for more books and we'll have all the money wewant. Oh, it is so delightful, this novel sensation of a literarysuccess!" she exclaimed with glee. "Aren't you proud of me, dad?"
The judge smiled indulgently. Of course he was glad and proud. Healways knew his Shirley was a clever girl. But by what strangefatality, he thought to himself, had his daughter in this book ofhers assailed the very man who had encompassed his own ruin? Itseemed like the retribution of heaven. Neither his daughter northe financier was conscious of the fact that each was indirectlyconnected with the impeachment proceedings. Ryder could not dreamthat "Shirley Green," the author of the book which flayed him somercilessly, was the daughter of the man he was trying to crush.Shirley, on the other hand, was still unaware of the fact that itwas Ryder who had lured her father to his ruin.
Mrs. Rossmore now insisted on Shirley going to her room to rest.She must be tired and dusty. After changing her travelling dressshe would feel refreshed and more comfortable. When she was readyto come down again luncheon would be served. So leaving the judgeto his papers, mother and daughter went upstairs together, andwith due maternal pride Mrs. Rossmore pointed out to Shirley allthe little arrangements she had made for her comfort. Then sheleft her daughter to herself while she hurried downstairs to lookafter Eudoxia and luncheon.
When, at last, she could lock herself in her room where no eyecould see her, Shirley threw herself down on the bed and burstinto a torrent of tears. She had kept up appearances as long as itwas possible, but now the reaction had set in. She gave way freelyto her pent up feelings, she felt that unless she could relieveherself in this way her heart would break. She had been braveuntil now, she had been strong to hear everything and seeeverything, but she could not keep it up forever. Stott's words toher on the dock had in part prepared her for the worst, he hadtold her what to expect at home, but the realization was so muchmore vivid. While hundreds of miles of ocean still lay between, ithad all seemed less real, almost attractive as a romance in modernlife, but now she was face to face with the grim reality--thisshabby cottage, cheap neighbourhood and commonplace surroundings,her mother's air of resignation to the inevitable, her father'spale, drawn face telling so eloquently of the keen mental anguishthrough which he had passed. She compared this pitiful spectaclewith what they had been when she left for Europe, the fine mansionon Madison Avenue with its rich furnishings and well-trainedservants, and her father's proud aristocratic face illumined withthe consciousness of his high rank in the community, and theattention he attracted every time he appeared on the street or inpublic places as one of the most brilliant and most respectedjudges on the bench. Then to have come to this all in the briefspace of a few months! It was incredible, terrible, heart rending!And what of the future? What was to be done to save her fatherfrom this impeachment which she knew well would hurry him to hisgrave? He could not survive that humiliation, that degradation. Hemust be saved in the Senate, but how--how?
She dried her eyes and began to think. Surely her woman's witwould find some way. She thought of Jefferson. Would he come toMassapequa? It was hardly probable. He would certainly learn ofthe change in their circumstances and his sense of delicacy wouldnaturally keep him away for some time even if other considerations,less unselfish, did not. Perhaps he would be attracted to someother girl he would like as well and who was not burdened with atragedy in her family. Her tears began to flow afresh until shehated herself for being so weak while there was work to be done tosave her father. She loved Jefferson. Yes, she had never felt sosure of it as now. She felt that if she had him there at thatmoment she would throw herself in his arms crying: "Take me,Jefferson, take me away, where you will, for I love you! I loveyou!" But Jefferson was not there and the rickety chairs in thetiny bedroom and the cheap prints on the walls seemed to jibe ather in her misery. If he were there, she thought as she lookedinto a cracked mirror, he would think her very ugly with her eyesall red from crying. He would not marry her now in any case. Noself-respecting man would. She was gl
ad that she had spoken to himas she had in regard to marriage, for while a stain remained uponher father's name marriage was out of the question. She might haveyielded on the question of the literary career, but she wouldnever allow a man to taunt her afterwards with the disgrace of herown flesh and blood. No, henceforth her place was at her father'sside until his character was cleared. If the trial in the Senatewere to go against him, then she could never see Jefferson again.She would give up all idea of him and everything else. Herliterary career would be ended, her life would be a blank. Theywould have to go abroad, where they were not known, and try andlive down their shame, for no matter how innocent her father mightbe the world would believe him guilty. Once condemned by theSenate, nothing could remove the stigma. She would have to teachin order to contribute towards the support, they would managesomehow. But what a future, how unnecessary, how unjust!
Suddenly she thought of Jefferson's promise to interest his fatherin their case and she clutched at the hope this promise held outas a drowning man clutches at a drifting straw. Jefferson wouldnot forget his promise and he would come to Massapequa to tell herof what he had done. She was sure of that. Perhaps, after all,there was where their hope lay. Why had she not told her father atonce? It might have relieved his mind. John Burkett Ryder, theColossus, the man of unlimited power! He could save her father andhe would. And the more she thought about it, the more cheerful andmore hopeful she became, and she started to dress quickly so thatshe might hurry down to tell her father the good news. She wasactually sorry now that she had said so many hard things of Mr.Ryder in her book and she was worrying over the thought that herfather's case might be seriously prejudiced if the identity of theauthor were ever revealed, when there came a knock at her door. Itwas Eudoxia.
"Please, miss, will you come down to lunch?"
The Lion and The Mouse: A Story Of American Life Page 8