The Marrow of Tradition

by Charles W. Chesnutt

  X

  DELAMERE PLAYS A TRUMP

  Carteret did not forget what General Belmont had said in regard to Tom.The major himself had been young, not so very long ago, and was inclinedtoward indulgence for the foibles of youth. A young gentleman shouldhave a certain knowledge of life,--but there were limits. Clara's futurehappiness must not be imperiled.

  The opportunity to carry out this purpose was not long delayed. Old Mr.Delamere wished to sell some timber which had been cut at Belleview, andsent Tom down to the Chronicle office to leave an advertisement. Themajor saw him at the desk, invited him into his sanctum, and deliveredhim a mild lecture. The major was kind, and talked in a fatherly wayabout the danger of extremes, the beauty of moderation, and the value ofdiscretion as a rule of conduct. He mentioned collaterally theunblemished honor of a fine old family, its contemplated alliance withhis own, and dwelt upon the sweet simplicity of Clara's character. Themajor was a man of feeling and of tact, and could not have put thesubject in a way less calculated to wound the _amour propre_ of a veryyoung man.

  Delamere had turned red with anger while the major was speaking. He wasimpulsive, and an effort was required to keep back the retort thatsprang once or twice to his lips; but his conscience was not clear, andhe could not afford hard words with Clara's guardian and hisgrandfather's friend. Clara was rich, and the most beautiful girl intown; they were engaged; he loved her as well as he could love anythingof which he seemed sure; and he did not mean that any one else shouldhave her. The major's mild censure disturbed slightly his sense ofsecurity; and while the major's manner did not indicate that he knewanything definite against him, it would be best to let well enoughalone.

  "Thank you, major," he said, with well-simulated frankness. "I realizethat I may have been a little careless, more from thoughtlessness thananything else; but my heart is all right, sir, and I am glad that myconduct has been brought to your attention, for what you have saidenables me to see it in a different light. I will be more careful of mycompany hereafter; for I love Clara, and mean to try to be worthy ofher. Do you know whether she will be at home this evening?"

  "I have heard nothing to the contrary," replied the major warmly. "Callher up by telephone and ask--or come up and see. You're always welcome,my boy."

  Upon leaving the office, which was on the second floor, Tom met Elliscoming up the stairs. It had several times of late occurred to Tom thatEllis had a sneaking fondness for Clara. Panoplied in his ownengagement, Tom had heretofore rather enjoyed the idea of a hopelessrival. Ellis was such a solemn prig, and took life so seriously, that itwas a pleasure to see him sit around sighing for the unattainable. Thathe should be giving pain to Ellis added a certain zest to his ownenjoyment. But this interview with the major had so disquieted himthat upon meeting Ellis upon the stairs he was struck by a suddensuspicion. He knew that Major Carteret seldom went to the ClarendonClub, and that he must have got his information from some one else.Ellis was a member of the club, and a frequent visitor. Who more likelythan he to try to poison Clara's mind, or the minds of her friends,against her accepted lover? Tom did not think that the world was usinghim well of late; bad luck had pursued him, in cards and other things,and despite his assumption of humility, Carteret's lecture had left himin an ugly mood. He nodded curtly to Ellis without relaxing the scowlthat disfigured his handsome features.

  "That's the damned sneak who's been giving me away," he muttered. "I'llget even with him yet for this."

  Delamere's suspicions with regard to Ellis's feelings were not, as wehave seen, entirely without foundation. Indeed, he had underestimatedthe strength of this rivalry and its chances of success. Ellis had beenwatching Delamere for a year. There had been nothing surreptitious aboutit, but his interest in Clara had led him to note things about hisfavored rival which might have escaped the attention of others lessconcerned.

  Ellis was an excellent judge of character, and had formed a very decidedopinion of Tom Delamere. To Ellis, unbiased by ancestral traditions,biased perhaps by jealousy, Tom Delamere was a type of the degeneratearistocrat. If, as he had often heard, it took three or four generationsto make a gentleman, and as many more to complete the curve and returnto the base from which it started, Tom Delamere belonged somewhere onthe downward slant, with large possibilities of further decline. OldMr. Delamere, who might be taken as the apex of an ideal aristocraticdevelopment, had been distinguished, during his active life, as Ellishad learned, for courage and strength of will, courtliness of bearing,deference to his superiors, of whom there had been few, courtesy to hisequals, kindness and consideration for those less highly favored, andabove all, a scrupulous sense of honor; his grandson Tom was merely theshadow without the substance, the empty husk without the grain. Of gracehe had plenty. In manners he could be perfect, when he so chose. Courageand strength he had none. Ellis had seen this fellow, who boasted of hisdescent from a line of cavaliers, turn pale with fright and spring froma buggy to which was harnessed a fractious horse, which a negrostable-boy drove fearlessly. A valiant carpet-knight, skilled in allparlor exercises, great at whist or euchre, a dream of a dancer,unexcelled in Cakewalk or "coon" impersonations, for which he was inlarge social demand, Ellis had seen him kick an inoffensive negro out ofhis path and treat a poor-white man with scant courtesy. He suspectedDelamere of cheating at cards, and knew that others entertained the samesuspicion. For while regular in his own habits,--his poverty would nothave permitted him any considerable extravagance,--Ellis's position as anewspaper man kept him in touch with what was going on about town. Hewas a member, proposed by Carteret, of the Clarendon Club, where cardswere indulged in within reasonable limits, and a certain set were knownto bet dollars in terms of dimes.

  Delamere was careless, too, about money matters. He had a habit ofborrowing, right and left, small sums which might be convenientlyforgotten by the borrower, and for which the lender would dislike toask. Ellis had a strain of thrift, derived from a Scotch ancestry, and atenacious memory for financial details. Indeed, he had never had so muchmoney that he could lose track of it. He never saw Delamere withoutbeing distinctly conscious that Delamere owed him four dollars, which hehad lent at a time when he could ill afford to spare it. It was aprerogative of aristocracy, Ellis reflected, to live upon others, andthe last privilege which aristocracy in decay would willinglyrelinquish. Neither did the aristocratic memory seem able to retain thesordid details of a small pecuniary transaction.

  No doubt the knowledge that Delamere was the favored lover of MissPemberton lent a touch of bitterness to Ellis's reflections upon hisrival. Ellis had no grievance against the "aristocracy" of Wellington.The "best people" had received him cordially, though his father had notbeen of their caste; but Ellis hated a hypocrite, and despised a coward,and he felt sure that Delamere was both. Otherwise he would havestruggled against his love for Clara Pemberton. His passion for her hadgrown with his appreciation of Delamere's unworthiness. As a friend ofthe family, he knew the nature and terms of the engagement, and that ifthe marriage took place at all, it would not be for at least a year.This was a long time,--many things might happen in a year, especially toa man like Tom Delamere. If for any reason Delamere lost his chance,Ellis meant to be next in the field. He had not made love to Clara, buthe had missed no opportunity of meeting her and making himself quietlyand unobtrusively agreeable.

  On the day after this encounter with Delamere on the stairs of theChronicle office, Ellis, while walking down Vine Street, met old Mrs.Ochiltree. She was seated in her own buggy, which was of ancient buildand pattern, driven by her colored coachman and man of all work.

  "Mr. Ellis," she called in a shrill voice, having directed her coachmanto draw up at the curb as she saw the young man approaching, "come here.I want to speak to you."

  Ellis came up to the buggy and stood uncovered beside it.

  "People are saying," said Mrs. Ochiltree, "that Tom Delamere is drinkinghard, and has to be carried home intoxicated, two or three times a week,by old Mr. Delamere's man Sandy. Is
there any truth in the story?"

  "My dear Mrs. Ochiltree, I am not Tom Delamere's keeper. Sandy couldtell you better than I."

  "You are dodging my question, Mr. Ellis. Sandy wouldn't tell me thetruth, and I know that you wouldn't lie,--you don't look like a liar.They say Tom is gambling scandalously. What do you know about that?"

  "You must excuse me, Mrs. Ochiltree. A great deal of what we hear ismere idle gossip, and the truth is often grossly exaggerated. I'm amember of the same club with Delamere, and gentlemen who belong to thesame club are not in the habit of talking about one another. As long asa man retains his club membership, he's presumed to be a gentleman. Iwouldn't say anything against Delamere if I could."

  "You don't need to," replied the old lady, shaking her finger at himwith a cunning smile. "You are a very open young man, Mr. Ellis, and Ican read you like a book. You are much smarter than you look, but youcan't fool me. Good-morning."

  Mrs. Ochiltree drove immediately to her niece's, where she found Mrs.Carteret and Clara at home. Clara was very fond of the baby, and washolding him in her arms. He was a fine baby, and bade fair to realizethe bright hopes built upon him.

  "You hold a baby very naturally, Clara," chuckled the old lady. "Isuppose you are in training. But you ought to talk to Tom. I have justlearned from Mr. Ellis that Tom is carried home drunk two or three timesa week, and that he is gambling in the most reckless manner imaginable."

  Clara's eyes flashed indignantly. Ere she could speak, Mrs. Carteretexclaimed:--

  "Why, Aunt Polly! did Mr. Ellis say that?"

  "I got it from Dinah," she replied, "who heard it from her husband, wholearned it from a waiter at the club. And"--

  "Pshaw!" said Mrs. Carteret, "mere servants' gossip."

  "No, it isn't, Olivia. I met Mr. Ellis on the street, and asked himpoint blank, and he didn't deny it. He's a member of the club, andought to know."

  "Well, Aunt Polly, it can't be true. Tom is here every other night, andhow could he carry on so without showing the signs of it? and wherewould he get the money? You know he has only a moderate allowance."

  "He may win it at cards,--it's better to be born lucky than rich,"returned Mrs. Ochiltree. "Then he has expectations, and can get credit.There's no doubt that Tom is going on shamefully." Clara'sindignation had not yet found vent in speech; Olivia had said all thatwas necessary, but she had been thinking rapidly. Even if all this hadbeen true, why should Mr. Ellis have said it? Or, if he had not statedit directly, he had left the inference to be drawn. It seemed a mostunfair and ungentlemanly thing. What motive could Ellis have for such anact?

  She was not long in reaching a conclusion which was not flattering toEllis. Mr. Ellis came often to the house, and she had enjoyed hissociety in a friendly way. That he had found her pleasant company hadbeen very evident. She had never taken his attentions seriously,however, or regarded his visits as made especially to her, nor had therest of the family treated them from that point of view. Her engagementto Tom Delamere, though not yet formally ratified, was so wellunderstood by the world of Wellington that Mr. Ellis would, scarcelyhave presumed to think of her as anything more than a friend.

  This revelation of her aunt's, however, put a different face upon hisconduct. Certain looks and sighs and enigmatical remarks of Ellis, towhich she had paid but casual attention and attached no particularsignificance, now recurred to her memory with a new meaning. He had nowevidently tried, in a roundabout way, to besmirch Tom's character andundermine him in her regard. While loving Tom, she had liked Ellis wellenough, as a friend; but he had abused the privileges of friendship, andshe would teach him a needed lesson.

  Nevertheless, Mrs. Ochiltree's story had given Clara food for thought.She was uneasily conscious, after all, that there might be a grain oftruth in what had been said, enough, at least, to justify her inwarning Tom to be careful, lest his enemies should distort some amiableweakness into a serious crime.

  She put this view of the case to Tom at their next meeting, assuringhim, at the same time, of her unbounded faith and confidence. She didnot mention Ellis's name, lest Tom, in righteous indignation, might dosomething rash, which he might thereafter regret. If any subtler or moreobscure motive kept her silent as to Ellis, she was not aware of it; forClara's views of life were still in the objective stage, and she had notyet fathomed the deepest recesses of her own consciousness.

  Delamere had the cunning of weakness. He knew, too, better than any oneelse could know, how much truth there was in the rumors concerning him,and whether or not they could be verified too easily for him to make anindignant denial. After a little rapid reflection, he decided upon adifferent course.

  "Clara," he said with a sigh, taking the hand which she generouslyyielded to soften any suggestion of reproach which he may have read intoher solicitude, "you are my guardian angel. I do not know, of course,who has told you this pack of lies,--for I can see that you have heardmore than you have told me,--but I think I could guess the man they camefrom. I am not perfect, Clara, though I have done nothing of which agentleman should be ashamed. There is one sure way to stop the tongue ofcalumny. My home life is not ideal,--grandfather is an old, weak man,and the house needs the refining and softening influence of a lady'spresence. I do not love club life; its ideals are not elevating. Withyou by my side, dearest, I should be preserved from every influenceexcept the purest and the best. Don't you think, dearest, that the majormight be induced to shorten our weary term of waiting?"

  "Oh, Tom," she demurred blushingly, "I shall be young enough ateighteen; and you are barely twenty-one."

  But Tom proved an eloquent pleader, and love a still more persuasiveadvocate. Clara spoke to the major the same evening, who looked grave atthe suggestion, and said he would think about it. They were both veryyoung; but where both parties were of good family, in good health andgood circumstances, an early marriage might not be undesirable. Tom wasperhaps a little unsettled, but blood would tell in the long run, andmarriage always exercised a steadying influence.

  The only return, therefore, which Ellis received for his well-meanteffort to ward off Mrs. Ochiltree's embarrassing inquiries was that hedid not see Clara upon his next visit, which was made one afternoonwhile he was on night duty at the office. In conversation with Mrs.Carteret he learned that Clara's marriage had been definitely agreedupon, and the date fixed,--it was to take place in about six months.Meeting Miss Pemberton on the street the following day, he received theslightest of nods. When he called again at the house, after a week ofmisery, she treated him with a sarcastic coolness which chilled hisheart.

  "How have I offended you, Miss Clara?" he demanded desperately, whenthey were left alone for a moment.

  "Offended me?" she replied, lifting her eyebrows with an air of puzzledsurprise. "Why, Mr. Ellis! What could have put such a notion into yourhead? Oh dear, I think I hear Dodie,--I know you'll excuse me, Mr.Ellis, won't you? Sister Olivia will be back in a moment; and we'reexpecting Aunt Polly this afternoon,--if you'll stay awhile she'll beglad to talk to you! You can tell her all the interesting news aboutyour friends!"