by Allen French
CHAPTER XXVI
IN WHICH JUDGE HARMON ENTERS THE STORY
Judith stood waiting at the telephone; at the Club the waiter had goneto fetch Mather. How slow he was in coming! How tired she felt! Thewires sang in her ears; she heard faint voices speaking indistinctly;she had a dull consciousness of surrounding space, of connection withfar-off spheres, out of which those voices rose, whispered, almostbecame articulate, then died away to let the humming of the spheresbegin again. Then some man said loud and briskly: "Hello!"
"I am using the line," said Judith.
The man begged her pardon and drifted across the Styx, from whose dimterritory a tinkling voice spoke complainingly for a while, then fadedaway. The buzzing in the wires increased the confusion in her head, andJudith, very, very weary, found herself clinging to the instrument lestshe should fall. With a strong effort she regained her self-control.
Then she heard in the telephone sounds as of distant heavy strokes ofmetal; they grew louder, then the wire clicked. Mather spoke: "Hello!"
"Oh, George!" she gasped. His voice was calm, quiet, perfectlymodulated, as if he stood there at her side. She released her hold onthe instrument; with him talking so to her she could stand alone.
"That is you, Judith? Jim is there?"
"Jim?" She had forgotten him. "Oh, no."
"Then can I do anything for you?"
"Something has happened here," she said, "to--to father. He left aletter addressed to you and Mr. Pease."
"_Left_ a letter?" She heard the change in his voice.
"Tell no one, please," she begged. "We telephoned for Mr. Pease andlearned that he is at Judge Harmon's; Beth has gone there for him. Canyou come? At once, George?"
"Instantly," he answered. "That is all?"
"All. Good-bye."
She heard him hang up his receiver. In her turn she left the telephone,and stronger in the knowledge that he was coming she began to pace theroom. Pease too was coming; Beth would bring him soon.
But Pease, who had started for the Judge's, had turned aside at the footof the steps when he saw Ellis waiting in the vestibule. Pease, tellinghimself that he could return, had gone away half an hour before, and allwho had entered the Harmon house that evening were Ellis and Jim Wayne.
Jim had come first--a wild, dishevelled Jim. He had wandered a good dealthat day, after first leaving Chebasset in the morning and next spendingmuch time at a ticker. He had not been home; he had not eaten, he hadgiven Mather the slip a couple of times, and his moods had varied fromfear to bold resolution, and then to sullen despair. But since in thelight fluids of his nature hope easily beat up its accustomedsurface-froth, he arrived at the Harmons' in a more cheerful mood,looking for the coming of Ellis to relieve him of the consequences ofhis folly. When Mrs. Harmon had drawn the portieres, and had begun totell him how untidy he was, he explained matters with a laugh.
"Been sitting over my accounts," he said. "Forgot to brush my hair, didI? Here's a mirror; just look away a moment, Mrs. Harmon, please, whileI----" He began to arrange his hair with his fingers.
But she watched him. "I can't lose a chance to see a man prink," shesaid. "Tell me about the accounts, Mr. Wayne."
"Upon my word," he cried, "there's one item I forgot to put down! Justlike me; and so important, too!"
"What is it?" she inquired.
"The item, or the cost?"
"Both. Tell me."
He set a condition. "One or the other, choose. Wait!" He went to hisovercoat, which he had flung upon a chair, and drew a box from thepocket. "Now choose," he directed, holding up the box.
"Oh," she pouted, "that is one of Price's boxes. I can't know the costif I am to see what you've bought. You'll show it to me, won't you?"
"You would like to see it?"
"Of course."
"Then open it," he said, giving her the box. "It's for you."
"For me?" and she opened the little case. "Oh, Mr. Wayne, a locket! Whatgood taste you have--oh, and I didn't see the chain!" Then she regardedhim reproachfully. "Now, Jim, you know you really mustn't."
"Always call me Jim!" he directed. "Why mustn't I?"
"Because you can't afford it."
"I can!" he asserted. "At least, I could when I bought it. I was threethousand to the good then."
"Indeed?" she thought, "and what happened later?" Deciding thatpossession was worth securing, she snapped the chain around her neck."And so you have had a very lucky day?"
"Well," explained Jim, "there was a steady rise at first. But then therecame a couple of flurries, and the bottom dropped out of everything Iheld."
"And you lost much?"
"No, no," he said quickly. "I was watching; I got out at once. I'm notso very badly off, and Ellis said he'd help me straighten matters. He'scoming here this evening."
She was much relieved, but covered her feeling by coquetting. "So thatis all you came here for?"
"That isn't fair," cried Jim. "Didn't I bring the locket? Now Mrs.Harmon!" He tried to take her hand. After some resistance on her part,he succeeded.
Holding that plump and somewhat large assembly of digits, from which nomanicurist had as yet been able to remove the fresh bright pinkreminding of its earlier uses (for Mrs. Harmon had once done her sewingand washed her own clothes)--holding that hand, Jim felt more agitationthan when he first held Beth's. And though he looked into wide-openeyes, which met his without a tremor of their lids or a suggestion of adownward glance, Jim was more thrilled than by the sweet confusion Bethso oft discovered, even to her accepted lover. This was rare; itquickened his blood; he was preparing to taste the ruby of those lips,when into his consciousness came the clang of the door-bell, which wasof the good old-fashioned kind. Before the noise had well begun, Mrs.Harmon had withdrawn her hand and placed a chair between herself and heradmirer, whose ardent glance had proclaimed his intention with suchdistinctness that (combined with the door-bell) it had alarmed hermodesty. And although Jim, calculating that the servant could not reachthe door for half a minute, pursued and begged her not to be so cruel,she laughed at him and maintained her distance until in the hall wereheard the rustle of the maid's skirts and then the opening of the frontdoor. Jim was so disgusted that even the appearance of Ellis did not atfirst recall him to a willing obedience of the laws of propriety. Butwhen Ellis, from an abrupt entrance, as abruptly halted and fixed himwith a scowl, Jim came back to himself.
"Oh," said Ellis, "I had forgot you."
"I--I don't want to trouble you, Mr. Ellis," replied Jim.
"But you'd like some four, five, six thousand to help you out, hey?That's what you've been waiting here for?"
"You said you'd help me, sir."
Ellis turned his unchanged scowl on Mrs. Harmon. "Better drop him,Lydia," he said. "He's an eternal fool."
"Stephen," she cried indignantly, "have you lost money, too? More thanhe has, I'm sure." He sneered, and she added, "Something's gone wrongwith you, then, to make you so rude."
His frown became blacker still; he had been walking the streets, andcame here in the hope of distraction only to be reminded of Judith."Hold your tongue, Lydia," he said roughly. Then he surveyed Jim oncemore. "You little fool, get out of your scrape by yourself!" Graspinghis hat as if he would crush its brim, he turned to go.
"Don't come again, Stephen," she flung after him, "until you've foundyour temper."
Yet the last glimpse of Ellis, as he departed, gave distress to poorJim. "Why," he said helplessly, as the outer door closed. "Why, Mrs.Harmon, he--he said he'd help me!"
But such common preoccupations as money-difficulties were, at thismoment, foreign to Mrs. Harmon's mood. Jim had stirred her blood, shewas glad that Ellis had gone. Now she moved nearer to the young man, sothat the space between them was free. "Never mind," she said lightly.
"Never mind?" repeated Jim. "But Mrs. Harmon, I've----" No, he couldn'ttell her. Yet what should he do?
"Leave business for the daytime," she said. "Forget the mill; forget theoffice."
She came nearer still.
Jim hung his head. Mather was after him surely; and what could he say tohis mother?
"Stephen will come round," said Mrs. Harmon. "Leave him to me."
"Oh," cried Jim, "you will help me? Just a little, Mrs. Harmon?"
"Why should I?" she asked archly. She was very close now, and waslooking in his eyes.
"For our friendship," he answered.
"Friendship!" she repeated. Her tone roused him; he looked, and herglance kindled his. "Only friendship?" she asked softly.
"Oh!" he breathed, and caught her in his arms.
Again came the cursed interruption of the jangling door-bell. "You shallnot go!" he said, holding her fast. She murmured, "I do not wish to."They stood motionless, and heard the servant pass through the hall andopen the front door. They listened, ready to spring apart.
"The Judge?" the servant asked. "Yes, in his study. This way." Again thefootsteps and the rustling skirt passed the door. The two in the parlourwaited until the door of the Judge's study opened and shut. Then Jimlowered his head upon the one that nestled at his shoulder.
"At last!" he whispered. And their lips met.
But Beth was in the Judge's study. Behind his table sat the old man--no,not so very old, in years only sixty, but he carried them ill. A life oflabour among books, a disappointment in his wife, made him seem tenyears older than he was. The Judge never exercised, was sometimes shortof breath and dizzy, but was at all times scornful of the wisdom ofdoctors. His face was naturally stern, yet a smile came on it when hesaw Beth. He rose, adjusted a different pair of glasses, and then sawthe distress on her countenance.
"Why, Beth!" he exclaimed. "Is anything wrong?"
"Is Mr. Pease not here?" she asked in return.
"Pease? No, he has not been here."
"His cousin said," explained Beth, "that he was coming here. And so Icame at once, since you have no telephone. Father--oh, Judge Harmon, myfather has killed himself!"
The Judge turned white. "Killed?" He put his hand to his breast. "Mydear child! My poor Beth! Killed himself? Oh, I am so sorry!"
"There is nothing to do," said Beth with admirable calmness. "But heleft a letter directed to Mr. Mather and Mr. Pease."
"Mr. Pease is not here," the Judge repeated, much distressed. "Let mebring you home again.--But your Mr. Wayne was here earlier. Perhaps heis still in the parlour with my wife."
"Jim here?" cried Beth, springing to the door. "Oh, I hope he is!"Hastily she left the study, sped along the hall, and parted the parlourcurtains. There were Jim and Mrs. Harmon, in the growing fierceness oftheir first embrace. Beth saw how eagerly they strained together, andheard their panting breaths.
She stood still and made no sound, but her senses noted everything:Jim's hand that pressed on Mrs. Harmon's shoulder, her closed eyes, herhands linked behind his neck--and his sudden movement as he shifted hisarm, only to press her closer. And still that clinging kiss continued,ecstatic, terrible. Beth could not move, could scarcely breathe, untilbehind her rose the Judge's cracked and horror-stricken voice.
"Lydia!"
Hurriedly they disengaged and stood apart--moist lips, hot cheeks, andburning eyes still giving evidence of their passion. Then Mrs. Harmondropped her face into her hands and turned away, but Jim gazed withmounting shame into the eyes that met his--met while yet they showedBeth's detestation of him. And the Judge stood quiet, his hand pressedto his breast, his breath stopped, his head confused with the noisesthat roared in his ears.
At last Beth moved. Slowly she put her hands together; her eyes showedmore of indignation, less of loathing. She drew her hands apart and heldout to him the right--not with fingers upward, beckoning, but palmdownward, fingers closed together. Then she opened them. The goldencirclet fell, its diamond flashing; it bounded on the rug, and rolled;it stopped at Mrs. Harmon's feet. She, looking downward through herfingers, wondering at the silence, saw, and started away with a cry.
Then Beth turned her back on Jim, and went away. The old Judge followed,dazed, and the curtains fell behind them.