XX
Broken Faith
"Sweet are the uses of adversity," sang the great bard who is supposedto have known human nature in all its mutations; and humanity hasechoed the aphorism until it has come to believe in some sort thatbufferings are benedictions, and hard knocks merely the compactingblows that harden virtues, as the blacksmith's hammer beats a finertemper into the steel upon the anvil.
With all due respect for the shades of the mighty, and for the tacitapproval of the many, I beg leave to offer the _argumentum ad hominem_in rebuttal. Fight the conclusion as I may, I cannot resist theconvincement that ill winds have never blown me any good; that, on thecontrary, the steady pressure of hardship and misfortune, during aperiod when my life was still in a great measure in the formativestate, exerted an influence which was altogether evil, weakening theimpulses which should have been growing stronger, and giving free reinto those which, under more favoring conditions, might never have beenquickened.
When I forsook the breakfast-table and the hotel, after having read thenewspaper story telling how effectively Agatha Geddis had removedherself from my path, it was to make a joyous dash for the first trainleaving the capital for Cripple Creek. With shame I record it, I hadalready forgotten my own culpable weakness in permitting a dastardlyfear of consequences to make me Agatha's puppet and a sharer in hermore than questionable dissipations; had forgotten that by every step Ihad taken with Agatha Geddis I had increased the distance separating mefrom Mary Everton.
Perhaps it is only a characteristic of human nature to minimize evilspast, and evils to come, at the miraculous removal of a great andpressing evil present; even so, one may suffer loss. I was hasteningback to take up the dropped thread of my relations with Phineas Evertonand his daughter, and I should have gone softly, as one who, knowinghimself the chief of sinners yet ventures to tread upon holy ground.But by the time the train was slowing into the great gold camp at theback of Pike's Peak, these, and all other chastening thoughts, werecrowded aside to make room for the one jubilant fact: I was free and Iwas going back to Polly.
Barrett was the first man I met upon reaching our offices. If he weresurprised at seeing me in Cripple Creek when I should have been well onmy way to the Pacific Coast, he was quite as evidently disappointed.
"I thought you had started for California," he said in his evenesttones.
"I thought so, too; but it was only a false start." Then I had it outwith him. "You and I both know, Barrett, why you thought I ought togo, and the reason wasn't even remotely connected with the shipping ofthe car-load of test-ore. If you have seen the morning papers, youprobably know why it is no longer necessary for me to leave Colorado."
He turned to stare absently out of the office window. When he facedabout again there was a frown of friendly concern wrinkling between hisstraight-browed level eyes.
"How the devil did you ever come to get mixed up with the Geddis woman,Jimmie?" he demanded.
I evaded the direct question. "It is a long story, and some day I maybe able to tell you all of it. But I can't do it now. You must takemy word for it, Bob, that I haven't done a single thing that I didn'tbelieve, at the time, I was compelled to do. That sounds idiotic, Iknow; but it is the simple truth."
Again he turned to the window and was silent for a full minute. I knewthat I had in no uncertain measure forfeited his good opinion--that, Ihad earned the forfeiture: also, I knew perfectly well what he wasdoing; he was leaving me entirely out of the question and was weighingthe hazards for Polly. When he turned it was to put a hand upon myshoulder.
"I'm taking you 'sight unseen,' old man," he said, with the brotherlyaffection which came so easily to the front in all his dealings withme. "If you tell me it's done and over with, and won't be resurrected,that's the end of it, so far as I am concerned. What comes next?"
"A little heart-to-heart talk with Polly's father," I said, and beganto move toward the door. But he stopped me before I could get away.
"Just one other word, Jimmie: wouldn't it be better to let things rockalong for awhile until the dust has time to settle and the smoke toblow away? You've come back red-handed from this thing--whatever itis--and----"
"No," I returned obstinately. "It is now or never for me, Bob. I'msinking deeper into the mire every day, and Polly has the only ropethat will pull me out. You'll say that I am much more likely to dragher in; maybe that is true, but just now I'm like a drowning man.Possibly it would be better for all concerned if I should drown, butyou can't expect me to take that view of it." And with that I crossedthe corridor to the laboratory.
I can say for Phineas Everton that he was at all times and in allthings a fair man, generous to a fault, and always ready to give theother fellow the benefit of the doubt. I sought him that afternoonwith an explanation which was very far from explaining, but he listenedpatiently and with an evident desire to draw favorable inferences wherehe could from my somewhat vague story of my entanglement with AgathaGeddis.
It was perfectly apparent to me that I was not making the story veryclear to him; I couldn't, because any complete explanation would havereached back too far into my past. The half-confidence wasinexcusable, and I was aware of this. I owed this man, whose daughterI wished to marry, the fullest and frankest statement of all the facts.But I didn't give it to him.
"You are trying to tell me that the affair with this woman had itsorigin in a former foolish infatuation?" he said at length.
"It might be called that; but it dates back to my--to a time longbefore I came to Cripple Creek."
"You gave me to understand yesterday that she had a hold of some sortupon you. Were you under promise to marry her?"
"No, indeed; never in this world!"
He was sitting back in his chair and regarding me gravely.
"I am an old-fashioned man, Bertrand, as I told you yesterday. I havealways entertained an idea--which may seem archaic to the presentgeneration--that a young man intending to marry ought to be able togive as much as he asks. You haven't made a very good beginning."
I admitted it; admitted everything save the imputation that myrelations with Agatha Geddis had been in any sense wilfully immoral.
He gave a wry smile at this, as if the distinction were finely drawnand the credit small.
"Because it fell to my lot to be a schoolmaster in her native town, Ihad an opportunity of observing Miss Geddis while she was yet only ayoung girl, Bertrand," he remarked. "She gave promise, even then, ofbecoming a disturbing element in the affairs of men. As a school-girlshe had a following of silly boys who were ready to take her at her ownvaluation of herself. There are times when you remind me very stronglyof one of them, though the resemblance is only a suggestion: the boy Ispeak of was a bright young fellow named Weyburn, who afterward becamea clerk in Mr. Geddis's bank."
There are moments when the promptings of the panic-stricken ostrich layhold upon the best of us. Since I could not thrust my head into thesand, I wheeled quickly to stare at a framed photograph of BullMountain and the buildings of the Little Clean-Up hanging on thelaboratory wall.
"He was one of the fools, too, was he?" I said, without taking my eyesfrom the photograph.
"He turned out badly, I am sorry to say, and I have often wondered ifthe young woman was not in some way responsible. There was adefalcation in Geddis's bank, and Weyburn was found guilty and sent tothe penitentiary."
Here was another of the paper life-walls. One little touch would havepunctured it and vague recollection would instantly become completerecognition. I held my breath for fear I might unconsciously give therending touch. But Everton's return to the question at issue turnedthe danger of recognition aside.
"To get back to the present time, and your plea for a rehearing," hewent on. "I wish to be entirely fair to you, Bertrand; as fair as Ican be without being unfair to Polly. Barrett told me yesterdayafternoon that you had gone, or were going, to the Pacific Coast. I amtaking it for granted that you had no intention of accom
panying thiswoman?"
"I certainly had not. Nothing was further from my intentions. On theother hand, her flight last night with another woman's husband is theone thing that makes it possible for me to be here to-day."
"You can assure me that your connection with her is an incident closed;and for all time?"
"It is, unquestionably. I hope I shall never see her or hear of heragain."
For a moment he sat nibbling the end of the pencil with which he hadbeen figuring, trying, as I well understood, to be fairly equitable asbetween even-handed justice and his prejudices. There was a sharplittle struggle, but at the end of it he said: "As I remarkedyesterday, I labor under all the disadvantages of the average Americanfather. I can occupy the position only of a deeply interestedonlooker. But I'll meet you half-way and lift the embargo. You mayresume your visits to the house if you wish to."
"I want more than that," I broke in hastily. "I am going to ask Pollyto be my wife. If she says Yes, I don't want to wait a minute longerthan I'm obliged to."
He demurred at that, intimating that I ought to be willing to waituntil a reasonable lapse of time could prove the sincerity of myprotestations. He was entirely justified in asking for delay, but Ibegged like a dog and he finally gave a reluctant consent--contingent,of course, upon his daughter's wishes in the matter. Half an hourlater I was sitting with Polly Everton before a cheerful grate fire inthe living-room of the cottage on the hill, trying, as best I might, totell her how much I loved her.
One of the things a man doesn't find out until after he has beenmarried quite some little time is that the best of women may not alwayswear her heart on her sleeve, nor always open the door of the innerconfidences even to the man whose life has become a part and parcel ofher own. Mary Everton's eyes were deep wells of truth and sincerity asI talked, but I read in them nothing save the love which matched my ownwhen she gave me her answer. If I had known all that lay behind, Ithink I should have fallen down and worshiped her.
I did not know then how much or how little she had heard of the AgathaGeddis affair. None the less, I broke faith, if not with her, at leastwith myself. I did not tell her that she was about to become the wifeof an escaped convict; that her life must henceforth be lived under athreatening shadow; that her children, if she should have any, might bemade to share the disgrace of their father.
Once more I make no excuses. A little later, if I had waited, the justand honorable impulse might have reasserted itself; I might haverealized that the removal of one unscrupulous woman out of my pathmerely took the lightning out of the edge of the nearest cloud. But inthe supreme exaltation of the moment I considered none of these things.In this climaxing of happiness the disaster which had hung over my headfor weeks and months seemed as far removed and remote as it had beenimminent only a few hours before.
We were together through what remained of the afternoon; until it wasnearly time for Phineas Everton to come home. When we parted I hadgained my point and our plans were all made. We were to be marriedvery quietly the following day. I had no wish to make the wedding thesocial function which my position as one of the three partners in theLittle Clean-Up might have justified; and Polly agreed with me in this.
It was not until after I had left the house that I remembered that theforced financing of Agatha Geddis's elopement had practically drainedmy bank account. There had been no mention of money in our talk beforethe fire; we were both far and away beyond the reach of any such sordidtopic. But Phineas Everton would have a right to ask questions, and Imust be prepared to answer them. After dinner at the hotel I capturedBarrett, drove him into a quiet corner of the lobby, and made my wail.
"Heavens and earth!" he gasped when I had told him the shameful truth."Are you telling me that you let that woman hold you up for all theready money you had in the world?"
"It listens that way," I confessed; adding, out of the heart ofsincerity: "It was cheap at the price; I was glad enough to be quit ofher at any price."
"This is pretty serious, Jimmie," he asserted, after he had re-lightedhis cigar. "It isn't the mere fact that you have recklessly chucked asmall fortune at the Geddis person--that is a mere matter of dollarsand cents, and the Little Clean-Up will square you up on that. Butthere is another side to it. The dreadful thing is the fact that shehad enough of a grip on you to make you do it. I'll like it better ifyou will say that you were blind drunk when you did it."
"I wasn't--more's the pity, Bob; on the contrary, I was never sobererin my life."
"Of course, you haven't told Polly."
"No--not yet."
"Nor Everton?"
I shook my head. "I didn't want to commit suicide."
Barrett chuckled softly.
"I happen to know this fellow the Geddis woman is running away with,"he said. "He has gone through his wife's fortune, in addition tosquandering a good little chunk that his father left him. And you'vegrub-staked 'em both to this! Well, never mind; it's a back number,now, and you have given me your word for it. Don't worry about themoney you are going to need for the honeymoon. There is plenty in thebank--in my account, if there isn't any in yours."
I thanked him with tears in my eyes. Was there ever another suchgenerous soul in this world, or in any other? He stopped me in midcareer, wishing to know more about the wedding.
"Let the money part of it go hang and tell me more about this hurrybusiness you've planned for to-morrow. It's scandalous and unheard of,but I don't blame you a little bit. Dope my part out for me whileyou're here--so I'll know where I am to come on and go off."
For a little while longer--as long a while as I could spare fromPolly--we talked of the impromptu wedding and arranged for it. Barrettwas a brother to me in all that the word implies. He took on all ofthe "best man's" responsibilities--and more. When I was leaving towalk up the hill he walked to the corner of the side street with me,and at the last moment business intruded.
"I forgot to tell you," he cut in abruptly. "After you left yesterdayafternoon a court notice was served upon us. Blackwell's lawyers havetaken the Lawrenceburg suit to the Federal court--on the ground ofalien ownership--and we've got to show cause all over again why weshouldn't be enjoined for trespass. Benedict seems to be more or lessstirred up about it."
"If that is the case, I oughtn't to be going away," I said.
"Yes, you ought; Gifford and I can handle it."
Notwithstanding Barrett's assurance I was vaguely disturbed as Iclimbed the hill to the Everton cottage. Blackwell had proved to be averitable bull-dog in the long-drawn-out fight, and the tenacity withwhich he was holding on was ominous. Why the Lawrenceburg peopleshould make such a determined struggle to wipe us out was beyond mycomprehension. It had been proved in the State courts, past a questionof doubt, that our title to the Little Clean-Up was unassailable, andstill Blackwell hung on. What was the animus?
If I could have had the answer to that question it is conceivable thatmy one evening as Polly Everton's affianced lover--an evening spent inthe seventh heaven of ecstasy before the cheerful coal blaze in thecottage sitting-room--would have been sadly marred.
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