CHAPTER XIII
Shirley entered upon her new duties in the Ryder household twodays later. She had returned to her rooms the evening of hermeeting with the financier in a state bordering upon hysteria. Theday's events had been so extraordinary that it seemed to her theycould not be real, and that she must be in a dream. The car rideto Seventy-fourth Street, the interview in the library, thediscovery of her father's letters, the offer to write thebiography, and, what to her was still more important, theinvitation to go and live in the Ryder home--all these incidentswere so remarkable and unusual that it was only with difficultythat the girl persuaded herself that they were not figments of adisordered brain.
But it was all true enough. The next morning's mail brought aletter from Mrs. Ryder, who wrote to the effect that Mr. Ryderwould like the work to begin at once, and adding that a suite ofrooms would be ready for her the following afternoon. Shirley didnot hesitate. Everything was to be gained by making the Ryderresidence her headquarters, her father's very life depended uponthe successful outcome of her present mission, and this unhopedfor opportunity practically ensured success. She immediately wroteto Massapequa. One letter was to her mother, saying that she wasextending her visit beyond the time originally planned. The otherletter was to Stott. She told him all about the interview withRyder, informed him of the discovery of the letters, and afterexplaining the nature of the work offered to her, said that heraddress for the next few weeks would be in care of John BurkettRyder. All was going better than she had dared to hope. Everythingseemed to favour their plan. Her first step, of course, while inthe Ryder home, would be to secure possession of her father'sletters, and these she would dispatch at once to Massapequa, sothey could be laid before the Senate without delay.
So, after settling accounts with her landlady and packing up her fewbelongings, Shirley lost no time in transferring herself to the moreluxurious quarters provided for her in the ten-million-dollar mansionuptown.
At the Ryder house she was received cordially and with every markof consideration. The housekeeper came down to the main hall togreet her when she arrived and escorted her to the suite of rooms,comprising a small working library, a bedroom simply but daintilyfurnished in pink and white and a private bathroom, which had beenspecially prepared for her convenience and comfort, and herepresently she was joined by Mrs. Ryder.
"Dear me," exclaimed the financier's wife, staring curiously atShirley, "what a young girl you are to have made such a stir witha book! How did you do it? I'm sure I couldn't. It's as much as Ican do to write a letter, and half the time that's not legible."
"Oh, it wasn't so hard," laughed Shirley. "It was the subject thatappealed rather than any special skill of mine. The trusts andtheir misdeeds are the favourite topics of the hour. The wholecountry is talking about nothing else. My book came at the righttime, that's all."
Although "The American Octopus" was a direct attack on her ownhusband, Mrs. Ryder secretly admired this young woman, who haddared to speak a few blunt truths. It was a courage which, alas!she had always lacked herself, but there was a certain satisfactionin knowing there were women in the world not entirely cowed by thetyrant Man.
"I have always wanted a daughter," went on Mrs. Ryder, becomingconfidential, while Shirley removed her things and made herself athome; "girls of your age are so companionable." Then, abruptly,she asked: "Do your parents live in New York?"
Shirley's face flushed and she stooped over her trunk to hide herembarrassment.
"No--not at present," she answered evasively. "My mother andfather are in the country."
She was afraid that more questions of a personal nature wouldfollow, but apparently Mrs. Ryder was not in an inquisitive mood,for she asked nothing further. She only said:
"I have a son, but I don't see much of him. You must meet myJefferson. He is such a nice boy."
Shirley tried to look unconcerned as she replied:
"I met him yesterday. Mr. Ryder introduced him to me."
"Poor lad, he has his troubles too," went on Mrs. Ryder. "He's inlove with a girl, but his father wants him to marry someone else.They're quarrelling over it all the time."
"Parents shouldn't interfere in matters of the heart," saidShirley decisively. "What is more serious than the choosing of alife companion, and who are better entitled to make a freeselection than they who are going to spend the rest of their daystogether? Of course, it is a father's duty to give his son thebenefit of his riper experience, but to insist on a marriage basedonly on business interests is little less than a crime. There areconsiderations more important if the union is to be a happy or alasting one. The chief thing is that the man should feel realattachment for the woman he marries. Two people who are to livetogether as man and wife must be compatible in tastes and temper.You cannot mix oil and water. It is these selfish marriages whichkeep our divorce courts busy. Money alone won't buy happiness inmarriage."
"No," sighed Mrs. Ryder, "no one knows that better than I."
The financier's wife was already most favourably impressed withher guest, and she chatted on as if she had known Shirley foryears. It was rarely that she had heard so young a woman expresssuch common-sense views, and the more she talked with her the lesssurprised she was that she was the author of a much-discussedbook. Finally, thinking that Shirley might prefer to be alone, sherose to go, bidding her make herself thoroughly at home and toring for anything she might wish. A maid had been assigned to lookexclusively after her wants, and she could have her meals servedin her room or else have them with the family as she liked. ButShirley, not caring to encounter Mr. Ryder's cold, searching staremore often than necessary, said she would prefer to take her mealsalone.
Left to herself, Shirley settled down to work in earnest. Mr.Ryder had sent to her room all the material for the biography, andsoon she was completely absorbed in the task of sorting andarranging letters, making extracts from records, compiling data,etc., laying the foundations for the important book she was towrite. She wondered what they would call it, and she smiled as apeculiarly appropriate title flashed through her mind--"TheHistory of a Crime." Yet she thought they could hardly infringe onVictor Hugo; perhaps the best title was the simplest "The Historyof the Empire Trading Company." Everyone would understand that ittold the story of John Burkett Ryder's remarkable career from hisearliest beginnings to the present time. She worked feverishly allthat evening getting the material into shape, and the followingday found her early at her desk. No one disturbed her and shewrote steadily on until noon, Mrs. Ryder only once putting herhead in the door to wish her good morning.
After luncheon, Shirley decided that the weather was too gloriousto remain indoors. Her health must not be jeopardized even toadvance the interests of the Colossus, so she put on her hat andleft the house to go for a walk. The air smelled sweet to herafter being confined so long indoor, and she walked with a moreelastic and buoyant step than she had since her return home.Turning down Fifth Avenue, she entered the park at Seventy-secondStreet, following the pathway until she came to the bend in thedriveway opposite the Casino. The park was almost deserted at thathour, and there was a delightful sense of solitude and a sweetscent of new-mown hay from the freshly cut lawns. She found anempty bench, well shaded by an overspreading tree, and she satdown, grateful for the rest and quiet.
She wondered what Jefferson thought of her action in coming to hisfather's house practically in disguise and under an assumed name.She must see him at once, for in him lay her hope of obtainingpossession of the letters. Certainly she felt no delicacy orcompunction in asking Jefferson to do her this service. Theletters belonged to her father and they were being wrongfullywithheld with the deliberate purpose of doing him an injury. Shehad a moral if not a legal right to recover the letters in any waythat she could.
She was so deeply engrossed in her thoughts that she had notnoticed a hansom cab which suddenly drew up with a jerk at thecurb opposite her bench. A man jumped out. It was Jefferson.
"Hello, Shirley," he cried gaily;
"who would have expected to findyou rusticating on a bench here? I pictured you grinding away athome doing literary stunts for the governor." He grinned and thenadded: "Come for a drive. I want to talk to you."
Shirley demurred. No, she could not spare the time. Yet, shethought to herself, why was not this a good opportunity to explainto Jefferson how he came to find her in his father's librarymasquerading under another name, and also to ask him to secure theletters for her? While she pondered Jefferson insisted, and a fewminutes later she found herself sitting beside him in the cab.They started off at a brisk pace, Shirley sitting with her headback, enjoying the strong breeze caused by the rapid motion.
"Now tell me," he said, "what does it all mean? I was so startledat seeing you in the library the other day that I almost betrayedyou. How did you come to call on father?"
Briefly Shirley explained everything. She told him how Mr. Ryderhad written to her asking her to call and see him, and how she hadeagerly seized at this last straw in the hope of helping herfather. She told him about the letters, explaining how necessarythey were for her father's defence and how she had discoveredthem. Mr. Ryder, she said, had seemed to take a fancy to her andhad asked her to remain in the house as his guest while she wascompiling his biography, and she had accepted the offer, not somuch for the amount of money involved as for the splendidopportunity it afforded her to gain possession of the letters.
"So that is the mysterious work you spoke of--to get thoseletters?" said Jefferson.
"Yes, that is my mission. It was a secret. I couldn't tell you; Icouldn't tell anyone. Only Judge Stott knows. He is aware I havefound them and is hourly expecting to receive them from me. Andnow," she said, "I want your help."
His only answer was to grasp tighter the hand she had laid in his.She knew that she would not have to explain the nature of theservice she wanted. He understood.
"Where are the letters?" he demanded.
"In the left-hand drawer of your father's desk," she answered.
He was silent for a few moments, and then he said simply:
"I will get them."
The cab by this time had got as far as Claremont, and from thehill summit they had a splendid view of the broad sweep of themajestic Hudson and the towering walls of the blue palisades. Theday was so beautiful and the air so invigorating that Jeffersonsuggested a ramble along the banks of the river. They could leavethe cab at Claremont and drive back to the city later. Shirley wastoo grateful to him for his promise of cooeperation to make anyfurther opposition, and soon they were far away from beatenhighways, down on the banks of the historic stream, pickingflowers and laughing merrily like two truant children bent on aself-made holiday. The place they had reached was just outside thenorthern boundaries of Harlem, a sylvan spot still unspoiled bythe rude invasion of the flat-house builder. The land, thicklywooded, sloped down sharply to the water, and the perfect quietwas broken only by the washing of the tiny surf against the riverbank and the shrill notes of the birds in the trees.
Although it was late in October the day was warm, and Shirley soontired of climbing over bramble-entangled verdure. The rich grassunderfoot looked cool and inviting, and the natural slope of theground affording an ideal resting-place, she sat there, withJefferson stretched out at her feet, both watching idly thedancing waters of the broad Hudson, spangled with gleams of light,as they swept swiftly by on their journey to the sea.
"Shirley," said Jefferson suddenly, "I suppose you saw thatridiculous story about my alleged engagement to Miss Roberts. Ihope you understood that it was done without my consent."
"If I did not guess it, Jeff," she answered, "your assurance wouldbe sufficient. Besides," she added, "what right have I to object?"
"But I want you to have the right," he replied earnestly. "I'mgoing to stop this Roberts nonsense in a way my father hardlyanticipates. I'm just waiting a chance to talk to him. I'll showhim the absurdity of announcing me engaged to a girl who is aboutto elope with his private secretary!"
"Elope with the secretary?" exclaimed Shirley.
Jefferson told her all about the letter he had found on thestaircase, and the Hon. Fitzroy Bagley's plans for a runawaymarriage with the senator's wealthy daughter.
"It's a godsend to me," he said gleefully. "Their plan is to getmarried next Wednesday. I'll see my father on Tuesday; I'll putthe evidence in his hands, and I don't think," he added grimly,"he'll bother me any more about Miss Roberts."
"So you're not going away now?" said Shirley, smiling down at him.
He sat up and leaned over towards her.
"I can't, Shirley, I simply can't," he replied, his voicetrembling. "You are more to me than I dreamed a woman could everbe. I realize it more forcibly every day. There is no use fightingagainst it. Without you, my work, my life means nothing."
Shirley shook her head and averted her eyes.
"Don't let us speak of that, Jeff," she pleaded gently. "I toldyou I did not belong to myself while my father was in peril."
"But I must speak of it," he interrupted. "Shirley, you doyourself an injustice as well as me. You are not indifferent tome--I feel that. Then why raise this barrier between us?"
A soft light stole into the girl's eyes. Ah, it was good to feelthere was someone to whom she was everything in the world!
"Don't ask me to betray my trust, Jeff," she faltered. "You know Iam not indifferent to you--far from it. But I--"
He came closer until his face nearly touched hers.
"I love you--I want you," he murmured feverishly. "Give me theright to claim you before all the world as my future wife!"
Every note of his rich, manly voice, vibrating with impetuouspassion, sounded in Shirley's ear like a soft caress. She closedher eyes. A strange feeling of languor was stealing over her, amysterious thrill passed through her whole body. The eternal,inevitable sex instinct was disturbing, for the first time, awoman whose life had been singularly free from such influences,putting to flight all the calculations and resolves her coolerjudgment had made. The sensuous charm of the place--the distantsplash of the water, the singing of the birds, the fragrance ofthe trees and grass--all these symbols of the joy of lifeconspired to arouse the love-hunger of the woman. Why, after all,should she not know happiness like other women? She had a sacredduty to perform, it was true; but would it be less well donebecause she declined to stifle the natural leanings of herwomanhood? Both her soul and her body called out: "Let this manlove you, give yourself to him, he is worthy of your love."
Half unconsciously, she listened to his ardent wooing, her eyesshut, as he spoke quickly, passionately, his breath warm upon hercheek:
"Shirley, I offer you all the devotion a man can give a woman. Saythe one word that will make me the happiest or the most wretchedof men. Yes or no! Only think well before you wreck my life. Ilove you--I love you! I will wait for you if need be until thecrack of doom. Say--say you will be my wife!"
She opened her eyes. His face was bent close over hers. Their lipsalmost touched.
"Yes, Jefferson," she murmured, "I do love you!"
His lips met hers in a long, passionate kiss. Her eyes closed andan ecstatic thrill seemed to convulse her entire being. The birdsin the trees overhead sang in more joyful chorus in celebration ofthe betrothal.
The Lion and The Mouse: A Story Of American Life Page 16