THE MAMMON 
 
 OF 
 
 UNRIGHTEOUSNESS 
 
 BY 
 
 HJALMAR HJORTH BOYESON 
 
 AUFHOR OF 
 
 'GITNNAR," "IDYLS OF NORWAY/' "THE LIGHT OF HKR COUNTE 
 STANCE,*" ETC., ETC. 
 
 NEW YORK 
 UNITED STATES BOOK COMPANY 
 
 SUCCESSORS TO 
 
 JOHN W. LOVELL COMPANY 
 
 1 50 WORTH ST., COR. MISSION PLACE; 
 
COPYRIGHT, 1891, 
 
 BY 
 UNITED STATES BOOK COMPANY. 
 
PEEFAOE. 
 
 /SI/ 
 
 A GOOD friend of mine, who has read this novel in man- 
 uscript, is of opinion that every book of any conse- 
 quence should have a preface. A prefatory flourish of 
 bugles announcing the approach of the procession arouses 
 attention, he thinks, and tunes the mind into a mood of 
 expectancy. Now if he had offered to sound this heraldic 
 blast for me he would have relieved me of the embar- 
 rassment of blowing my own trumpet. If I buckle on my 
 brazen armor of self-esteem, and with na'ive frankness 
 blare forth my conviction that this is a very remarkable 
 novel, of the realistic kind, I shall challenge the pug- 
 nacity of the whole field of critics, and run the risk of be- 
 ing thrown by some particularly adventurous free lance. 
 Wishing to avoid this risk I will omit the trumpets, and 
 for the sake of appearances sing small : 
 
 " Pastorem, Tityre, pingues 
 Pascere oportet oves, deductum dicere carmen." 
 
 In fact, this is partly arpastoral narrative, devoid of sen- 
 sational incidents, and it behooves me to content myself 
 with a very slender prefatory note. 
 
 What I have chiefly at heart is to guard against misap- 
 prehension. I have used a definite locality which many, 
 no doubt, will recognize (it is impossible for me to write 
 a novel without having a distinct and real topography in 
 my mind), and to some the conclusion may not appear un- 
 warranted that my characters have also their originals 
 among the inhabitants of that region. It is this inference 
 I wish to guard against. My life and daily intercourse 
 with people supply me with constant hints, which form, as 
 it were, nuclei, lying dormant for a period in my mind, 
 drawing from my experience and observation such nour- 
 ishment as may prove organicajjy assimilable, until they 
 
: ''PREFACE. 
 
 , * 
 "" 
 
 ady tV step forifi'as* .characters into the light of pub- 
 licity. But it never occurs to me to put an acquaintance 
 bodily into a book with his appearance, peculiarities, and 
 the circumstances of his life. I have known during the 
 twenty-two years of my sojourn in the United States four 
 or five founders and conspicuous benefactors of institu- 
 tions of learning, and they all had certain pervasive traits 
 in common which constitute a type. This type, which I 
 have endeavored to present in the Honorable Obed Lar- 
 kin, has borrowed something from all of them, but is not a 
 copy of any of them. If they were all to sue me for libel, 
 I should have to plead equally guilty and equally innocent 
 toward all. 
 
 My one endeavor in this book has been to depict per- 
 sons and conditions which are profoundly and typically 
 American. I have disregarded all romantic traditions, 
 and simply asked myself in every instance, not whether it 
 was amusing, but whether it was true to the logic of real- 
 ity true in color and tone to the American sky, the Amer- 
 ican soil, the American character. 
 
 COLUMBIA COLLEGE, NEW YORK, 
 May, 1891. 
 
THE 
 
 MAMMON OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 A KEYNOTE. 
 
 " I mean to be true to myself true to my convictions," 
 ejaculated Alexander Larkin, impetuously, and the echo 
 flung back the words with the same impetuosity from the 
 rock opposite. 
 
 " I mean to succeed," said Horace, his brother, and the 
 echo immediately asserted, with the same positiveness, 
 that it meant to succeed. 
 
 " Do let us row further up the lake, where we can escape 
 that ridiculous echo," said Alexander, striking the water 
 with his oars. 
 
 " All right," assented his brother. 
 
 They rowed rapidly, for about fifteen minutes, past 
 green, smiling slopes, covered with wheat -fields and 
 meadow -land, intersected here and there by deep, pine- 
 clad ravines, through which swollen creeks poured their 
 muddy waters into the lake. It was one of the minor 
 geological basins, in the middle of the State of New York, 
 thirty or forty miles long, and but a few miles in width. 
 The lake which received the surface water of this basin 
 was also long and narrow ; but the creeks, three of which 
 had united at its southern end, were, with their deposits 
 of mud, forming a fertile but malarious delta, which was 
 constantly encroaching upon the territory of the lake. It 
 was upon this delta that the town of Torryville was situ- 
 ated. 
 
 The two brothers, as they skimmed along over the shin- 
 ing waters, paid little heed to th beauty of the landscape, 
 
6 THE MAMMON 
 
 with its softly undulating lines against the blue horizon. 
 They were both intent upon the subject of their late dis- 
 pute, and each was thinking of the argument with which 
 he meant to checkmate the other, when the discussion was 
 to be resumed. 
 
 Horace, the elder, was tall and strongly built, with a 
 large, bony frame, and a countenance which expressed 
 shrewdness and determination. It was not a handsome face, 
 but it was strongly individualized and interesting. It was 
 the face of a clever man a face which bore the impress of 
 a self-reliant spirit. There was a look of shrewd observa- 
 tion in his gray eyes, and in their glance something dis- 
 respectful and good-natured, which was distinctly Ameri- 
 can. The mouth was rudely drawn and partly covered by 
 a coarse, reddish-brown mustache, innocent of all orna- 
 mental purpose. The chin was strong, self-assertive, ar- 
 gumentative, and was often thrust forward with a pecul- 
 iarly combative air. The brown hair, approaching the 
 color known as ashy-brown, was rather short, parted on 
 the left side, and coarse as a brush. The whole face was, 
 perhaps, a trifle crude, and, to a fastidious person, not 
 wholly agreeable, but it was a face which took hold of you 
 which it was difficult to forget. It was full of force and 
 rude energy. It was said in the village that Horace Lar- 
 kin was a thunderin' smart chap ; and no one who saw 
 him would be apt to dispute this verdict. 
 
 Alexander Larkin, who was two years younger than his 
 brother, was slighter in figure and more delicately made. 
 There was something frank, open, and youthfully charm- 
 ing in his appearance, which Horace entirely lacked. 
 Out of his clear blue eyes spoke a soul in which there was 
 no guile. In the soft contour of his face, in the fresh, 
 handsome curves of his lips, in the blondness of his hair 
 nay, in his whole personality there was something chaste, 
 and sweet, and virginal. It was impossible not to like him, 
 as one likes spring, and youth, and all things fair and per- 
 ishable. That way of looking out into life through a pair 
 of unclouded blue eyes, with frank curiosity and delight, 
 somehow arouses a pathetic pleasure, tempered with com- 
 passion, in hearts which have long since forfeited this 
 privilege. You would not for the world disillusionize the 
 dear boy ; life will soon make havoc of his illusions. In 
 youth it is, after all, pardonable to have no very well-de- 
 fined individuality to swim joyously in the broad, uni- 
 versal current, without having any urgent cause for di- 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. f 
 
 verging. It was so with Alexander Larkin ; he was what 
 most young men are whom corruption has not touched ; 
 only he was rather handsomer and cleverer than the ma- 
 jority. 
 
 The two brothers had gradually struck out into the mid- 
 dle of the lake, where the echo from the shores would not 
 mock their conversation. 
 
 "You were saying," began Aleck, as he was familiarly 
 called, leaning forward and resting on his oars ; " you were 
 saying that you meant to succeed." 
 
 "Yes," replied Horace, "and you were saying that you 
 did not." 
 
 "I beg your pardon," exclaimed the younger brother, 
 with animation ; " I said nothing of the kind. I said I 
 meant to be true to my convictions." 
 
 "Well, it amounts to the same thing." 
 
 " Of course, I know you say that to tease me. But, 
 seriously, Horace, for a man of twenty-eight, you are an 
 inveterate cynic. You have no poetry in you, no ideals." 
 
 "You could not pay me a greater compliment. Life's 
 substance is prose, and it is this prose I mean to master." 
 
 "Life's substance is just as much poetry. It is only to 
 the average unideal man that it looks like prose." 
 
 "The average unideal man you will usually find to be 
 the successful man, at least in a democracy. The world 
 is made by average men for average men. Civilization 
 cripples great characters and lifts up the small, in order 
 to strengthen the average. This American democracy of 
 ours what is it but the triumph of the average ? Look 
 at the men we send into public life now! Compare them 
 to those we sent fifty or a hundred years ago ; compare 
 their very faces, and you see how the type has degener- 
 ated. What does that mean, if not that the average fool 
 who formerly took pride in being represented by a wiser 
 man, now prefers to be represented by as great a fool as 
 himself? The average American, fifty years ago, was 
 poor, and he paid the homage of admiration to greatness, 
 moral and intellectual ; but now his prosperity has turned 
 his brain ; he feels big enough to kick up his heels on his 
 own account, and he dislikes the man whom he suspects 
 of being his superior." 
 
 " I should be ashamed if I were you," exclaimed Aleck, 
 with youthful ardor, " to be slandering my country/' 
 
 " That depends upon what State we are talking in," said 
 Horace, dryly ; " as you know,* slander in New York is 
 
8 THE MAMMON 
 
 actionable only in case it is a lie ; while in New Jersey it is 
 actionable if it is of a derogatory character, whether it be 
 true or false. I am not in the least ashamed of slandering 
 my country in the New Jersey sense." 
 
 Aleck listened with visible impatience, took a few strokes 
 with the oars, then lifted them again and looked intently 
 at his brother, who had, in the meanwhile, lighted a cigar 
 and faced him. 
 
 " In what you have just been saying," he began, "you 
 have sealed your own doom. You certainly are above the 
 average, intellectually, whatever you may be morally ; 
 and you have the ambition to distinguish yourself in pub- 
 lic life. I should think your chances were poor if Ameri- 
 cans only chose fools to represent them." 
 
 The elder brother blew a couple of rings of smoke into 
 the still air, and smiled as only a strong man smiles. It 
 was a smile full of amusement and impregnable self-confi- 
 dence. "My dear fellow," he said; "you go too fast. 
 Let us admit, for the sake of argument, that I am no fool. 
 How do you suppose a clever man would set about winning 
 public favor? By demonstrating his cleverness ? By in- 
 advertently letting his wisdom out of the bag, and impres- 
 sing his countrymen with his intellectual greatness? No, 
 my dear boy ; if he did that, he could not be elected a 
 commissioner of highways, far less a member of Congress. 
 No, if I am intellectually superior, I mean scrupulously to 
 conceal the fact from my fellow-citizens, unless, indeed, 
 they choose to apply a degree of ingenuity to the inter- 
 pretation of my personality far beyond any with which I 
 credit them. As I have said, I mean to devote my life to 
 the study of reality, at close quarters, and to reach my 
 conclusions without regard for rose-colored traditions. 
 By applying these conclusions to my conduct I mean to 
 rise, and rise I shall. If you live long enough, you will 
 verify my predictions." 
 
 " I should not wish to succeed at that price," Aleck re- 
 joined, seriously; "you think character is a barrier to suc- 
 cess ? " 
 
 " I haven't said that ; though, as the world is now con- 
 stituted, a great elevation of character might interfere 
 with success. In the modern world tact is the accepted 
 substitute for character." 
 
 " You think, then, that principles and convictions are 
 needless encumbrances, and should be thrown overboard 
 by every man who aspires to enter public life ?" 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 9 
 
 "One thing at a time, if you please. Let us begin with 
 convictions. What are convictions at tiie age of twenty- 
 eight ? Untried axioms, accepted on trust, which exper- 
 ience is likely to upset. Well, I admit a man who means 
 to succeed cannot afford to equip himself luxuriously 
 with that kind of commodities. At forty, a man may 
 have convictions that are, perhaps, worth something. A 
 public man now-a-days is no more the leader of public 
 opinion, but its follower. He is not an embodiment of 
 knowledge and experience in public affairs, but merely a 
 register of the public ignorance." 
 
 The younger brother sat silent for some minutes, and 
 gazed dreamily toward the distant horizon. " Horace," he 
 said, at last, "I am too fond of you to wish to quarrel ; 
 but excuse me for saying that I believe you talk for ef- 
 fect. You experience a pleasant sensation when you 
 shock. You like to have people believe you a deep and 
 cold-blooded schemer. I fear you are too clever for your 
 own good so clever that you are in danger of outwitting 
 yourself." 
 
 Horace, so far from resenting this uncomplimentary 
 analysis, looked up with genuine pleasure. 
 
 " Good for you, brother," he exclaimed, heartily ; " clev- 
 erness evidently runs in the family. You, too, are a good 
 deal deeper than I gave you credit for." 
 
 Instead of answering, Aleck again struck the water 
 vehemently with his oars, and sent the boat skimming 
 away over the glassy surface of the lake. His brother was 
 a most unsatisfactory disputant, he thought, who would 
 try the patience of a saint. He talked not to convince, or 
 to arrive at a conclusion, but rather as a feat of intellec- 
 tual gymnastics, and because he liked to exhibit his wit. 
 He was a lawyer first, and afterward an individual ; counsel 
 for the prosecution or the defence, as the case might be, 
 even in the bosom of his family. 
 
IO THE MAMMON 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 A SELF-MADE MAN. 
 
 The Hon. Obed Larkin, the uncle of Horace and Alex- 
 ander, was the great man of Torryville, and felt the re- 
 sponsibility of his position. Not only by his wealth was 
 he eminent, but his philanthropy was proportionate to his 
 millions. He had founded the Larkin University, a far- 
 famed co-educational institution, situated on the beautiful 
 hill overlooking the town. He had endowed it with a cool 
 million in cash, as he was wont to say, when any of the 
 professors rebelled against his authority ; and he averred 
 that he would never have had that amount of money to 
 spare, if it had not been for the fact that he had never 
 used tobacco or whiskey in any shape, during his entire 
 life. He, therefore, had a strong prejudice against pro- 
 fessors who smoked ; and if he had had his own way, would 
 have given them twenty-four hours' notice to quit the 
 town. But, as he reluctantly admitted, there were other 
 considerations to be taken into account ; and though he 
 stoutly maintained that a man who smoked would also, on 
 occasion, get drunk, and accordingly was unfit to be an in- 
 structor of youth, he was yet obliged to tolerate some of 
 these objectionable characters in his seat of learning. He 
 could not forbear, however, to lecture them, not overbear- 
 ingly, but with many and awkward pauses, on the error 
 of their ways ; and when they beat him in argument, as 
 they often did, he did not blaze up instantly, but he went 
 home, and chewed the cud of reflection, and grew angrier 
 the more he thought of the disrespect they had shown 
 him. 
 
 The conceited beggars, didn't they owe everything to 
 him? Didn't they live on the fruits of his labor? Where 
 would they have been, if he had not founded his Univer- 
 sity, and given them employment at extravagant wages ? 
 
 It was scarcely to be wondered at that the Hon. Obed 
 Larkin took this view of professors who dissented from his 
 opinions on the whiskey and tobacco question ; for his 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. II 
 
 townsmen had long nourished his self-esteem by deferring 
 to him in everything. The influx of students and instruc- 
 tors had given a great impetus to the growth of the town, 
 and raised the value of real estate fully five hundred per 
 cent. For this the town was naturally grateful. The 
 greatness and goodness of Mr. Larkin were, therefore, art- 
 icles of faith in Torryville. The fact that he, who was rich 
 enough to live in magnificence anywhere, chose to live in 
 Torryville, showed plainly enough that Torryville was a 
 most desirable place of residence, and that investment in 
 corner lots was sure to prove profitable. 
 
 As far as his outward semblance went, the Hon. Obed 
 Larkin was not very imposing. He was a tall, lank, raw- 
 boned man, with a large head and strong, homely features. 
 He had the shrewd, self-confident look of the successful, 
 self-made man ; but under it all lurked a vague discontent 
 which wasemphasized by three deep perpendicular wrinkles 
 in his forehead. He seemed always to be thinking of some- 
 thing unpleasant, always ready to take you down a peg or 
 two, and play ducks and drakes with your self-esteem. He 
 stooped somewhat in his walk, and his coarse gray chin- 
 beard then concealed a part of his shirt-bosom. His upper 
 lip was usually covered with stiff white stubble, giving the 
 impression that he had been shaved two or three days ago. 
 Two deep longitudinal wrinkles, like boundary lines on a 
 map, divided the region of the mouth from that of the 
 cheeks. His grayish-blue eyes, which were shaded by 
 heavy, upward-curling eyebrows, expressed shrewdness and 
 sagacity. Sometimes there lurked in them a gleam of humor 
 which was like a genial commentary to a forbidding text. 
 But ordinarily they had a scrutinizing look, which to strang- 
 ers was often embarrassing. " However clever you pretend 
 to be, I am going to find out just what you amount to," they 
 seemed to say ; and as politeness rarely imposed any restraint 
 upon Mr. Larkin, it is not strange that many found his 
 society less congenial than it was prudent to admit. Appli- 
 cants for positions in the University were apt to go away 
 with a very unfavorable opinion of him. In the first place, 
 the questions he asked seemed often (to a man of scholarly 
 education) absurd ; and secondly, the steady scrutiny of 
 his eyes seemed directly intended to embarrass. Though 
 his manner was plain and devoid of pretence, it had yet 
 that air of patronage which the practical man in the United 
 States is apt to assume toward the scholar, and which the 
 successful millionaire assumes toward all the unsuccessful 
 
12 THE MAMMON 
 
 creation. When Mr. Larkin's gaunt, stooping figu re arrayed 
 in a rusty dress-coat, with a slight deposit of dandruff on his 
 collar, appeared on the University campus, professors and 
 tutors, unless they had an axe to grind, took care not to 
 cross his path. There was a number of anecdotes related 
 sub rosa and quietly chuckled over, illustrating his views 
 concerning educational affairs ; but these were only for 
 private consumption. If occasionally he bored a professor 
 with his talk concerning things which he knew nothing 
 about, he was apt to mistake the deferential silence with 
 which his victim listened for admiring astonishment and ap- 
 proval. He had, on the whole, no very flattering opinion 
 of the practical sense and judgment of scholars ; but he 
 had not the remotest idea that they regarded his own de- 
 liverances on educational subjects with similar disrespect. 
 When a professor, on one occasion, urged upon him the 
 necessity of a larger appropriation for the library, Mr. 
 Larkin cornered him with this remark : 
 
 "You want more books, eh? I'll bet you a dollar you 
 hain't read all those you've got. Read those, and then 
 we'll talk about getting more." 
 
 And chuckling at his shrewdness, he strolled off to but- 
 tonhole an instructor, whom he took to task for having 
 failed to pass some applicants at the entrance examina- 
 tions. 
 
 There was no gainsaying his arguments, especially 
 when he came along with the rejected applicants, person- 
 ally insisting upon their admission. He had never been 
 in a college himself, and could not be made to understand 
 that some things have to be known before others can be 
 taught with advantage. He was a self-made man, and as 
 Lawyer Graves, the wit of the town, said, having made 
 himself, he had enough left over to make a brother. The 
 brother in question, however, would not stay " made." 
 Ezekiel Larkin was one of those sanguine men who 
 plunge headlong into enterprises, without properly con- 
 sidering the probabilities for and against success. He was 
 a cleverer man than the Hon. Obed, but would have sunk 
 into absolute penury if the latter had not taken him under 
 his wing. There was a story told which nobody pretended 
 to believe, and yet did not wholly disbelieve, that Obed 
 owed his fortune to an invention made by Zeke. How- 
 ever that may have been, there was something in the re- 
 lation of the brothers which gave color to the suspicion. 
 That they did not love each other was perhaps not so very 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 13 
 
 wonderful ; but that so shrewd a business man as Obed 
 should consent, again and again, to invest in Zeke's enter- 
 prises, which he must have known were foredoomed to 
 failure, and patiently bear his elder brother's erratic be- 
 havior, could only be explained on the supposition that 
 the latter had a " pull " on him. Obed was not otherwise 
 noted for indulgent judgments, and he apparently respect- 
 ed no idiosyncrasies but his own. He had risen, by slow 
 degrees, from nothing, and he maintained that that was 
 the only proper way of reaching eminence. His brother 
 and himself had both commenced life as stone-masons, 
 and would perhaps have remained stone-masons, if the 
 improvement in bridge-building, which Obed patented, 
 had not thrown profitable contracts for public works in 
 his way by enabling him to underbid competitors. The 
 subsequent steps in his advancement followed naturally 
 with his increasing wealth and influence. He made vast 
 sums during the war in his legitimate business, besides 
 being interested in army contracts which also yielded him 
 handsome profits. At the close of the war he settled in 
 Torryville, where he established a paper mill, a national 
 bank, and in the course of time a flourishing university. 
 Without any apparent effort, he absorbed all the dignities 
 which his fellow-citizens had to bestow, went to the legis- 
 lature, became a State senator, and had repeatedly been of- 
 fered the nomination for governor. On his brother's death, 
 in 1867, he took his nephews into his house, made them 
 enter his university, and in due time established them in 
 what promised to be a profitable law practice. He made 
 the firm of Larkin Brothers his legal representatives 
 whenever, in his various enterprises, his interests collided 
 with those of others, and managed to throw a great deal 
 of business in their way. 
 
 As regards Mr. Larkin's domestic relations, they were 
 in all respects exemplary. There was but one drawback 
 to his happiness : his wife had no children. It was to 
 repair this deficiency that he had adopted his brother's 
 sons, and moreover, a little girl named Gertrude, whom, in 
 a Quixotic mood, he had picked up in an asylum or alms- 
 house, or some such institution. That was, at all events, 
 the legend in its official version. Miss Gertrude herself, 
 who was now seventeen years old could neither confirm 
 nor deny it, as she was but three years old when she was 
 removed by Mr. Larkin from her original habitat. The 
 fourteen fat years of her life hacl swallowed up the mem- 
 
14 THE MAMMON 
 
 ory of the three lean ones. And yet, the obscurity of her 
 origin remained a most potent fact in fashioning her char- 
 acter. She knew, or imagined she knew, that it was re- 
 membered against her, and this consciousness gave to her 
 bearing a certain reserve whicli many mistook for pride. 
 She was tall of growth and large-limbed. The expression 
 of her face was vague, groping, unawakened, but withal 
 soft and maidenly. It was this sweetly bovine expression 
 which Homer attributed to Hera when he called her heifer- 
 eyed. Gertrude's wide-open, infantine gaze carried out the 
 same suggestion. Its virginal shyness alternated, however, 
 at times, with the liveliest animation and enterprise. But 
 if anyone presumed upon her sympathy to become con- 
 fidential, her manner instantly changed to a cold and 
 haughty unresponsiveness. Her dark-blonde, wavy hair 
 was subject to continual experiments in the manner of 
 arrangement, but whatever was done with it seemed in- 
 capable of spoiling the noble contour of her head. Tak- 
 ing her altogether, she was quite as much a mystery to 
 herself as she was to others ; and if it had not been for 
 the fact that she was beautiful, and moreover Mr. Lar- 
 kin's adopted daughter, nobody would have troubled him- 
 self to solve her riddle. As it was, the sentiment which 
 the town entertained toward her was anything but favor- 
 able, and Gertrude, feeling the latent hostility, returned it 
 with interest. 
 
 "You can't make out that girl," was the remark most 
 commonly heard ; " but what can you expect of a person 
 that has been picked right out of the gutter? Mr. Larkin's 
 kindness to her has turned her head." 
 
 Tea-sipping, middle-aged Cassandras were never weary 
 of prophesying disastrous consequences to Mr. Larkin 
 from his generous conduct to Gertrude. If these prophe- 
 cies, in a mitigated form, reached Mr. Larkin's ear, they 
 made no impression upon him. He was, by nature, too 
 sanguine to believe that anything in which he was con- 
 cerned could turn out disastrously. Girls, to be sure, 
 were queer things, and you couldn't always tell what they 
 would be up to. But he had observed that they generally 
 came out all right in the end. He had known lots of girls 
 in his day, and most of them had had a period when all 
 sort of antics and tomfooleries came sort of natural to 
 them; but for all that, they had slipped as meekly as any 
 into the matrimonial harness, and then they were of course 
 all right. If Gertrude was a little hifalutin', why, it didn't 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 1 5 
 
 signify. She was a pretty girl, and he had observed that 
 pretty girls were apt to have more antics, and were harder 
 to manage, than the homely ones. But they were sure to 
 come out all right, he repeated, confidently. 
 
 If Mrs. Larkin did not share his confidence in this, as in 
 many other respects, it was with her a matter of tempera- 
 ment rather than of conviction. Mrs. Larkin had a pro- 
 pensity for lugubrious predictions, and cherished a sub- 
 dued aversion for her husband's optimism. She never 
 contradicted him, chiefly because, with her natural indo- 
 lence, she felt unequal to the effort of arguing; but she 
 sighed her drssent and expressed it in mournful glances 
 and shakings of her head. She was a large, blonde, good- 
 looking woman of about forty, with sad blue eyes and a 
 healthy complexion. She had a slight stoop in her shoul- 
 ders and walked heavily, not so much on account of stout- 
 ness as on account of the weight of woe that oppressed 
 her. Frequently she paused, as if endeavoring to recollect 
 where she was going. There was a perceptible inequality 
 between the two sides of her face, though not enough to 
 attract immediate attention. On the left side there was 
 an odd contraction of the muscles which drew the corner 
 of the mouth a little downward, giving to the face a chronic 
 air of dissatisfaction. She could therefore only smile on 
 one side of her mouth, while the other seemed to deprecate 
 such levity. She dressed without style or pretence of 
 style, and her garments hung about her with Quaker-like 
 rigidity. As she had equal difficulty in keeping warm in 
 winter and cool in summer, fretful comments on the 
 weather formed the staple of her conversation. A red 
 worsted shawl was either drooping from her shoulders or 
 depending from her arm, and, as malicious critics asserted, 
 served the purpose of concealing the bad'fit of her dresses. 
 
 What Mrs. Larkin, above all things, hungered for was a 
 mission ; not a mere self-imposed task, but an unmistak- 
 able call from on high, such as came to the prophets of 
 old. She was in her way a religious woman, but believed 
 religion to consist in a general disapproval of everything 
 pertaining to the earth, and a predilection for lugubrious 
 conversation. Tt was a source of grief with her that she 
 had never heard God's voice calling her in the stillness of 
 the night, as it did the child Samuel ; though she had re- 
 markable dreams, in which her pastor, Rev. Arthur Rob- 
 bins, was disposed to discern divine warnings and com- 
 mands, she was a little bit too conscfentious to agree with 
 
1 6 THE MAMMON 
 
 him. Her spurts of enthusiasm for this or that cause 
 which the church endorsed, were usually due to the influ- 
 ence of Mr. Robbins ; but either because, as she was fond 
 of asserting, she was a frail vessel, or because her worldly 
 sense was not quite so dead as she liked to believe, her 
 zeal was apt to flag before much was accomplished. She 
 had had her Indian craze, during which she had gone to 
 considerable expense in having Mr. Robbins's tract, 
 " Science and the Bible Reconciled," translated into some- 
 thing which she innocently believed to be "the Indian 
 language." She had been in correspondence with officials 
 in Washington and Indian agents, regarding the expedi- 
 ency of having this tract distributed along with the sup- 
 plies from the government agencies, and had been much 
 gratified at the interest which her correspondents dis- 
 played in the project. An army officer who was her hus- 
 band's guest for a few days, had, however, the cruelty to 
 disillusionize her, and from that time forth her interest in 
 the Indians was at an end. A project for the conversion 
 of the Catholic converts in China to the Evangelical re- 
 ligion, and another for spreading the gospel among the 
 Mohammedans, were equally short-lived and expensive. 
 
 The more remote a mission was to Mrs. Larkin, the more 
 it fascinated her. It was owing to this peculiarity of hers, 
 that her nephews, Horace and Alexander, with whom she 
 came in daily contact in her own house, never presented 
 themselves to her mind as possible objects of missionary 
 zeal. Horace had an imperturbable self-confidence which 
 made her half afraid of him, and his disrespectful laugh 
 discouraged all interest in his spiritual welfare. Alexander, 
 on the other hand, seemed too incorrigibly light-hearted, 
 and refused to sympathize with her solicitude for the fate 
 of the heathen m the hereafter. He treated her with 
 humorous affection, made fun of her projects in a good- 
 natured way, ran against her in the doorways, embraced 
 her by accident, and made profuse apologies. 
 
 "You only imagine me to be an Arab or a Zulu-Kaffir, 
 aunt," he would exclaim, laughingly ; " and then you won't 
 mind." 
 
 She could not help liking him, in spite of his frivolity ; 
 but influence him she could not. It was, in fact, not Mrs. 
 Larkin's forte to influence anybody. Even Gertrude, her 
 adopted daughter, had long since emancipated herself from 
 her authority. When, therefore, her husband expressed 
 his confidence that Gertrude would turn out all right, she 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. I/ 
 
 would lift her eyes to heaven and sigh, as if oppressed with 
 forebodings of disaster. When she had occasion to ad- 
 dress the girl, she never looked at her or spoke to her di- 
 rectly, but dropped her words, as it were, inadvertently in 
 corners and around the walls, and left Gertrude to pick 
 them up if she chose. Whatever her daughter said or did 
 seemed to have a strange power to shock Mrs. Larkin, who 
 then, instead of expressing her disapproval, appealed with 
 devout eyes to the ceiling and shook her head in dismal ap- 
 prehension. It was scarcely to be wondered at that Ger- 
 trude felt uncomfortable under this treatment, and some- 
 times was guilty of unfilial language. But when, in the 
 spasms of remorse which followed these outbursts, she 
 flung herself on Mrs. Larkin's neck and begged her for- 
 giveness, the latter's unresponsive manner, her virtuous 
 disavowal of all her personal feeling, and her references 
 to heaven as the only source of forgiveness, would suddenly 
 chill the passionate girl and make her feel hard and wicked. 
 If, with a vague hope of consolation, she sought refuge 
 with her father, his well-intentioned obtuseness was scarce- 
 ly easier to bear. He was so irritatingly confident that 
 everything would come out all right, that nobody meant 
 any harm, that all resentment and sorrow were mere mis- 
 takes, and as such easily corrected. He had always oc- 
 cupied this neutral ground between her and her mother ; 
 he had refrained from committing himself to any definite 
 judgment, and was therefore equally unsatisfactory to 
 both. 
 
1 8 THE MAMMON 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 FOUNDER'S DAY. 
 
 It was the trustees of the University who had put down 
 Mr. Larkin's birthday as a holiday on the calendar, under 
 the name of Founder's Day. Larkin' Day the students 
 called it, and celebrated it in the spirit of their own inter- 
 pretation. The opportunities for " larkin' " were, however, 
 limited in Torryville, and in the dearth of amusement the 
 young men had recourse to all sorts of desperate inven- 
 tions. They contrived by superhuman efforts to get one of 
 the founder's cows up into the bell-tower of the chapel, 
 and there proceeded to paint it green. They put a fine 
 collection of live mice into the desk of one of the professors, 
 who was very near-sighted and nervous, and they dyed with 
 blue ink the marble bust of a certain opulent, but unpop- 
 ular, college officer which adorned the library. Sometimes 
 they descended upon the neighboring villages and played 
 all sorts of rude pranks upon the citizens ; and occasionally 
 a party of them would visit credulous farmers, to whom they 
 would introduce one of their number as the son of Gen- 
 eral Grant or some other celebrity, and be entertained ac- 
 cordingly. 
 
 The principal ceremony of the day was, however, the 
 founder's Reception, which took place in a large forlorn, 
 jail-like dormitory, called the Barracks. Here students 
 of both sexes gathered in a great dreary, imperfectly 
 lighted hall, with bare plastered walls, and dingy white- 
 painted woodwork. In the middle of the floor stood Mr. 
 and Mrs. Larkin, and shook hands with a multitude of 
 people, the former with his head on one side and mildly 
 jocose, the latter stiff and awkward, with her elbow against 
 her side, and holding out one limp hand which made no 
 response to any pressure. Her one-sided smile, with 
 which she greeted those of her visitors whom she knew, 
 looked sadder than ever ; and her feeble and tentative 
 remarks, which for lack of confidence in their propriety, 
 she rarely finished, made one realize, as he went away, 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS, 1Q 
 
 that life was a melancholy affair. Young men with crude 
 but earnest faces, and in all varieties of costume, walked 
 up, some with a stoop and some with a swagger, to ex- 
 change some awkward remarks with the man who regarded 
 himself as their benefactor; and their features showed the 
 relief they felt when the ordeal was well over. A few 
 of them, braving the prejudice which yet existed against 
 co-education, had female students, in prim or helplessly 
 aspiring toilets, loosely attached to their arms, as if they 
 feared contact ; while others, glorying in their prejudice, 
 came striding along with village beauties who clung to 
 them with delightful confidence. 
 
 A dozen Brazilians, with dark and indolent faces, formed 
 a group near the door, from which the most adventurous 
 among them made excursions in the direction of the 
 prettiest girls, and again returned to render an account 
 of their exploits, which were then discussed with southern 
 gestures and animation. Two small, yellow-faced Japan- 
 ese, with bristling black hair and bead-like eyes, had been 
 cornered by some resolute female students, and were being 
 subjected to a rigid cross-examination concerning the 
 
 fovernment and social customs of their native land. A 
 ervian, two Russians, and a Bulgarian completed the 
 collection of alien tribes, as far as the undergraduates 
 were concerned. 
 
 There were professors, however, whose wives represented 
 several nationalities and strikingly varying types. There 
 were men who looked as if they came directly from the 
 plough, and expected to return to it, with wives whom 
 toil and child-bearing had made prematurely old ; and 
 there were recent graduates of Harvard and Columbia, in 
 correct evening attire, and with an ease of manner which 
 became slightly ironical when they conversed with their 
 rustic colleagues. There was the stout, squatty, and mel- 
 ancholy Professor Dowd, who for some inscrutable reason 
 had wooed a sprightly little Viennese lady, and for some 
 equally inscrutable reason, had won not only her hand, but 
 her affection. She was so dainty and/<?///^, and looked, as 
 she came tripping along through the crowd, like the very 
 incarnation of delightful frivolity as a wasp-waisted pink 
 shepherdess a la Watteau would have looked in the meet- 
 ing-house of the Pilgrim Fathers. 
 
 "Ach! I am so glat to see you, Mrs. Larrkin," she 
 exclaimed, with an inimitable foreign accent and vivacious 
 gestures. " You are well, yes 1 Ah, yes, I see you are 
 
2O THE MAMMON' 
 
 well. You look so fine and radiant. And your husbant, 
 he is well how you must be proud of him on a day like 
 this, dear Mrs. Larrkin to see all he has accomplished 
 to have brought the plessing of knowledge into so many 
 young lives. He looks so proud and commanding like 
 a sheneral on a field of pattle." 
 
 Mrs. Dowd went on with unblushing mendacity pour- 
 ing forth her compliments, until something in Mrs. Lar- 
 kins's wondering eyes showed her that she was throwing 
 her pearls before swine. Then suddenly, with an impa- 
 tient shrug of her shoulders, she pinched her husband, who 
 in the meanwhile had been conversing with the founder, 
 and whispering with suppressed wrath : "Ah, mon Dieu y 
 qu'ellc est bete" dragged him reluctantly away. They were 
 followed by Professor and Mrs. Wharton, whom the founder 
 greeted with handshakes that tingled in their toes. Pro- 
 fessor Wharton gave instruction in some practical branch 
 of study, not usually embraced in a university course, 
 which Mr. Larkin had especially at heart. He was a man 
 with a shrewd, homely, coarse-featured face, coarse brown 
 hair, and rims of dried tobacco juice on his lips. His 
 wife, who was tall, lean, and flat-chested, with remnants of 
 faded comeliness, looked as if, on proper provocation, she 
 could scratch your eyes out. 
 
 " Well, Professor," Mr. Larkin began, as he released Mrs. 
 Wharton's hand, " it looks rather different on this hill-top 
 from what it did ten years ago, when you first came here." 
 
 " It dooes, indeed," said Mr. Wharton, with the emphasis 
 of conviction. 
 
 " You wouldn't know it was the same place, eh ? " 
 
 " I wouldn't believe you on your oath, if you were to tell 
 me it was the same place, if I hadn't been here myself and 
 seen everything change from day to day." 
 
 Mr. Larkin chuckled delightedly. That was the kind of 
 talk he liked to hear. 
 
 "It does seem wonderful, Mr. Wharton, don't it?" he 
 went on, loath to drop the congenial topic. 
 
 " It does, indeed," Mr. Wharton said once more, look- 
 ing as if the thing just struck him in a new and surpris- 
 ing light. 
 
 "You have reason to be proud of your work, Mr. Lar- 
 kin," remarked Mrs. Wharton, in a shrill, grating voice. 
 
 " Not proud, but gratified, Mrs. Wharton, "answered the 
 host ; " a man can't do more than his best, you know, 
 and God's blessing must do the rest." 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 21 
 
 "A true word is that, Mr. Larkin. But it ain't every- 
 one of us that God gives the chance and the will to do 
 such great things in his service." 
 
 Mr. Larkin was about to reply, when he observed at 
 his elbow the Rev. Arthur Robbins, with one daughter 
 clinging to his arm, and four more following close behind 
 in his wake. They were all, with one exception, plain, and 
 were attired in brown dresses with an innocent pink bow 
 at the throat. There was something in the looks and 
 small, abrupt motions of the four undistinguished ones, 
 which reminded one of mice or squirrels. Their small 
 heads, their shy, dark, and alert-looking eyes and receding 
 chins, emphasized the resemblance. Only Arabella, the 
 youngest, for whom Mr. Robbins was just endeavoring to 
 secure a share of Mr. Larkin's attention, had her father's 
 features, though in a somewhat cheapened and weakened 
 edition. For Mr. Robbins was a fine-looking gentleman, 
 with gray, well-trimmed mutton-chop whiskers, dark, in- 
 telligent eyes, and an air of well-bred worldliness, which 
 made him a trifle conspicuous in Torryville, where the 
 clerical profession was expected to conform to quite a dif- 
 ferent type. His youngest daughter had the same fine 
 eyes and the same warm pallor, but there was something 
 feverish and uneasy in her expression ; and her manner 
 alternated between a weary languor and an almost hys- 
 terical vivacity. There was an anxious sweetness in her 
 smile as she caught sight of Horace Larkin, who was 
 standing with his back against the wall, submitting to a 
 cross-examination by one of the co-educational ladies, in 
 regard to his opinion of Alexander Hamilton and that 
 statesman's influence in moulding the destinies of the re- 
 public. As the young man suspected, she had chosen 
 this as the subject of her commencement thesis, and was 
 talking with a strictly practical purpose. Miss Robbins's 
 anxious smile aiforded Horace an opportunity, which he 
 was not slow to seize, of breaking off this conversation, 
 and from the asperities of barren learning to plunge into 
 the soft embrace of caressing compliments. He did not 
 entirely approve of Miss Robbins's die-away airs and ex- 
 aggerated behavior, as he had been known to remark on 
 more than one occasion, but for all that her evident ap- 
 proval of him did much to modify his opinion. She 
 listened to his most trivial remarks with devout attention, 
 and was disposed to find even a profounder meaning in 
 his comments upon men and things than he had himself 
 
22 THE MAMMOtf 
 
 divined. A man has to be preternaturally pachyderma- 
 tous to be proof against such insidious flattery. 
 
 " It is an age and a half since we have seen you, Mr. 
 Larkin," said Miss Robbins, as she pressed the young 
 man's hand with effusive cordiality. " Is it co-education 
 or the law which has been absorbing you ? " 
 
 "It is both, Miss Robbins," replied Horace, with that 
 air of brusque candor which was habitual with him. 
 Whatever he was charged with he always admitted for the 
 sake of argument, and it was therefore impossible to tease 
 him. 
 
 "So you really approve of co-education?" Arabella 
 went on, with a caressing cadence in her voice which seemed 
 to implore confidence and friendship. 
 
 " I approve of everything that it is for my advantage to 
 approve of." 
 
 " Then why don't you approve of me ? " 
 
 The remark was made in the spirit of daring banter, 
 but there was a sudden adventurous light in the girl's 
 eyes which was like the glare from a furnace door that is 
 for an instant ajar. 
 
 "Naturally, because I do not think it would be for my 
 advantage," he replied, smiling ; " because it might be 
 even dangerous." 
 
 " I scarcely know how to interpret that," she replied, 
 with a nervous little laugh ; "but I have an impression 
 that it is not exactly polite." 
 
 " Politeness is nothing but judicious mendacity," he re- 
 marked, sententiously. 
 
 "Well, women are so accustomed to being treated with 
 judicious mendacity, as you call it, that you can't blame 
 them if they have come to expect it as a sort of right." 
 
 " I will lie to you to your heart's content, if you desire 
 it," he retorted, giving a twist to his mustache, under 
 which his ironical smile was lurking. 
 
 "Do you know, Mr. Larkin," she ejaculated, as if re- 
 solved to emulate his bewildering tactics ; " I sometimes 
 have a suspicion that you are a desperate flirt ? " 
 
 " Has that never occurred to you before ? " 
 
 " No, I confess it hasn't." 
 
 "Then put it down in your note-book for future refer- 
 ence." 
 
 A perceptible ripple of excitement passed through the 
 assembly, as Alexander Larkin entered with his tall cousin 
 on his arm. 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 2 3 
 
 " How lovely Gertrude looks ! " exclaimed Arabella 
 Robbins ; " she looks like the Queen of Sheba !" 
 
 " Permit me to question that," her interlocutor replied. 
 " The queen was, no doubt, a trifle more de'colletee" 
 
 "I am not up in the fashions of those ancient times, of 
 course, but I merely mean she looks queenly. And your 
 brother he looks like Aladdin in the fairy tale." 
 
 " That is rather a better comparison, apart from the 
 costume ; for my brother, I regret to say, passes most of 
 his time in a fairy tale." 
 
 "You mean to say he is in love." 
 
 " Oh, no ! nothing as bad as that. I merely mean to 
 say that he looks at life through rose-colored spectacles. 
 And like Aladdin, he has a child-like confidence in the 
 wonderful lamp which he carries hidden under his coat." 
 
 Alexander, tall, blond, and radiant, was advancing 
 through the crowd, making his frank and fearless gaze 
 wander around the room, as if in search of somebody. In 
 striking contrast to the youthful animation of his features, 
 was the listless apathy of Gertrude's face. 
 
 " Do liven up a little, Gertie," he said, with an impatient 
 shake of her arm ; " you look cross." 
 
 "When I am cross, why should I not look it ?" 
 
 " Is it I who have displeased you ?" 
 
 " No more than anybody else." 
 
 " Who, then, is it ? " 
 
 " Everybody." 
 
 " That is amazing for a girl of your age to be dissatis- 
 fied with everybody." 
 
 " It is more amazing for a man of your age to be satis- 
 fied with everybody." 
 
 " Perhaps. But I was made that way." 
 
 "So was I made my way." 
 
 "That's very unfortunate." 
 
 " Perhaps, but it can't be helped." 
 
 Alexander's wondering glance had by this time lighted 
 upon a dark-haired young man, who, by some kind of 
 nervous sympathy, turned about as if someone had 
 touched him. 
 
 As their eyes met, the dark-haired man advanced rapidly 
 and made a ceremonious bow to Gertrude. He had a 
 grave, refined face, of the Edwin Booth type, full of ner- 
 vous mobility and melancholy resignation. One lock of 
 his black hair hung with an appearance of studied negli- 
 gence down on his forehead, and, a pair of hazel eyes 
 
24 THE MAMMON 
 
 strayed with a look of weary hauteur over the variegated 
 company. There was an air a la Hamlet in the way he 
 carried his head ; and only doublet and hose were needed, 
 instead of a neatly-fitting dress suit, to complete the re- 
 semblance. 
 
 " Well, Archie," exclaimed Alexander, as he eagerly 
 shook his friend's hand, " you concluded to come, after 
 all ? " 
 
 Dr. Hawk for that was the friend's name ran his fin- 
 gers through his curly hair, and fixed a dreamily adoring 
 glance upon Gertrude before he answered. 
 
 " We are weary, my heart and I," he quoted, rather ir- 
 relevantly. 
 
 "You mean you are bored," said Gertrude ; " a sympa- 
 thetic soul at last ! " 
 
 The Doctor bowed again in acknowledgment of the com- 
 pliment. "What a pity, Miss Gertrude, that you and I 
 were not born before the world had yet grown old," he 
 sighed, translating his adoration in another ardent glance. 
 
 "Yes, before the world had yet been made," the girl 
 sighed, in mock imitation of his sentimental tones. 
 
 " You are cruel, indeed," he said, with an offended air. 
 
 " Pardon me, Doctor, but you know that is a forbidden 
 topic." 
 
 He turned half about, gazed sulkily at the walls and the 
 ceiling and finally, recovering his equanimity, faced her 
 once more. 
 
 " Humanity, in my opinion, demands too little of life," 
 he said. " It is satisfied with the mere questionable 
 privilege of existing. As Schlegel says, ' Living for the 
 mere sake of living is the source of all vulgarity.' As 
 for me, if I have not the delusion of a pursuit that ap- 
 pears in some way worthy, I regard breathing as a pure 
 waste of energy. I would just as leave give my air-pump- 
 ing apparatus a rest forever." 
 
 Gertrude had listened with a slowly kindling animation 
 to this discourse ; the pleasure she felt shone out of her 
 eyes. Every word seemed as if spoken out of her own 
 heart. 
 
 "But what would you have us do, Doctor?" she said. 
 "What is the good of rebelling against what you can't 
 help ? " 
 
 " There is nothing which we can't help," he replied, trans- 
 fixing her again with his direct gaze ; "or I should say, 
 there is nothing which you can't help, Miss Gertrude." 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 2$ 
 
 " If, for instance, Gertie has a stupid partner," Alexan- 
 der remarked, "can she take him by the ear and command 
 him to be interesting?" 
 
 " No ; but let her take him by the heart, and he couldn't 
 help being interesting." 
 
 " I should find him more intolerable than ever, Doctor," 
 ejaculated Gertrude, laughing. 
 
 " You mean that Gertie should go about making people 
 fall in love with her," said her cousin, " so as to give them 
 an object worth living for ? But wouldn't that in the end 
 make a considerable muddle in the town, when they should 
 all come and claim her?" 
 
 "They should not claim her," cried Hawk, with sudden 
 warmth ; " the privilege of being in love with her would 
 be its own reward." 
 
 " With all due respect for Gertie, I doubt if you will 
 find many who will take that view." 
 
 " So much the worse for them," said the Doctor. 
 
 It was his habit to pay audacious compliments of this 
 sort with a solemn face, and in a sad, melodious voice 
 which had a curiously penetrating resonance. Gertrude 
 had to make a physical effort to shake off the spell which 
 he threw over her. She liked him, because she found him 
 entertaining, but she had a vague distrust of him, and felt 
 the need of being on her guard. 
 
 " Do let us invent something to prevent these people 
 from boring each other to death," she said, with sudden 
 revival of energy. " I feel a kind of responsibility for 
 them. I would like to take them by the shoulders and 
 shake them." 
 
 " That is not a bad idea," said Alexander, " only you 
 have got to do it to music. Otherwise they might not like 
 it ; or rather, you must let them shake you." 
 
 " You mean we ought to dance." 
 
 "Yes, why not ?" 
 
 " Isn't that rather undignified at a founder's recep- 
 tion ?" 
 
 " Not half so undignified as standing around in a chilly 
 room, uttering dreary platitudes about the weather and 
 the progress of the University." 
 "Then will you speak to father?" 
 " We'll both speak to him." 
 
 Mr. Larkin, who prided himself on his liberality, was 
 never disinclined to entertain any proposition. He was 
 at first rather dubious as to the propriety of dancing on 
 
26 THE MAMMON 
 
 the present occasion, but when he found that his wife ob- 
 jected to it on religious grounds, he veered around and 
 maintained that there was nothing he liked so much as to 
 see the young people amuse themselves. 
 
 "What do you say, parson ?" he asked, turning to Mr. 
 Robbins, who was explaining to Mrs. Larkin how recent 
 geological discoveries had confirmed the biblical story of 
 the creation. 
 
 " Don't ask me," said the clergyman, jocosely, " I have 
 nothing to do with your conscience, you know ; I am only 
 the keeper of Mrs. Larkin's." 
 
 " Well, she is my conscience. I have no other. She kinder 
 supports one for the benefit of the family." 
 
 "Then you ought to refer the question to her." 
 
 'No, I have observed her conscience is out of repair ; 
 kinder worn out by too much use." 
 
 The permission being given, a hysterical piano with 
 some kind of internal disorder was procured from a stu- 
 dent's room across the hall, and a young man who played 
 the violin emphasized the waltz measure by hoarse and un- 
 melodious scrapes 'on his strings. The Presbyterian and 
 the Baptist ministers took their departure very pointedly 
 (though not on musical grounds) when the noise began, 
 and expressed to Mrs. Larkin their regret that her husband 
 should countenance such sinful amusement ; but the foun- 
 der, for whose ears the regret was intended, laughed a 
 shrewd, contented laugh at his ability to " rile the parsons." 
 
 The music persevered for ten minutes in producing 
 scraping and rumbling noises in three-quarter measure, 
 before anyone ventured to swing out upon the floor. Then 
 Aleck and Gertrude, for philanthropic reasons, resolved to 
 take the initiative ; and a dozen couples immediately fol- 
 lowed in their wake. Soon the upper half of the hall was 
 filled with dancers whose heads bobbed up and down with 
 small regard for the music. There were many who danced 
 well, but a far greater number who did not know whether 
 they could dance or not, "but thought they would like to try. 
 There were young girls, with nice innocent faces in which 
 there was no guile, laboring conscientiously to keep their 
 feet in rhythmic motion ; and young men who, with one 
 arm loosely encircling their partners' waist, jerked solemnly 
 about with their eyes fixed on their boots. There was 
 young Professor Ramsdale, of Harvard antecedents, who 
 held the girls tightly clasped and conversed leisurely with 
 them, while he gyrated about with reckless ease, "revers- 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 2 7 
 
 ing " every moment, and winding his way skilfully among 
 the thronging couples without ever risking a collision. The 
 frivolous-minded among the seniors hated him, when they 
 saw him waltzing, and would have found some way of 
 avenging themselves, if his popularity with the serious- 
 minded had not shielded him from molestation. Among 
 the female students there were many who reviled him in 
 unmeasured terms, but none who had the heart to refuse, 
 when he asked them to dance. Handsome he was not, 
 though tall and athletic, and his conversation, as a rule, 
 was jerky and fragmentary. His blond- hair was cut very 
 short, and a mustache of indefinite color curled over a 
 strong, sensuous mouth. His blue, serious eyes, the white 
 of which was veined with yellow, protruded from their 
 sockets, and with their stiff and solemn stare reminded you 
 of fish-eyes. Whether he joked or was in earnest, no one 
 could guess by the look of his countenance ; which, if it 
 was the mirror of his soul, was certainly a very imperfect 
 one. In spite of this disadvantage, he made the impression 
 of being a sturdy and trustworthy personality ; whatever 
 he said (perhaps because he said so very little) was well 
 received, and seemed to admit of no dissent. He was 
 known in the town as a persistent adorer of Gertrude 
 Larkin, and it was told of him that, when .someone accused 
 him of having proposed to her seven times, he answered 
 that he would persevere even unto seventy times seven. 
 But that sounded so unlike him that his friends refused to 
 credit it. That Gertrude, for some reason, objected to him 
 was generally believed, though it was hinted that her objec- 
 tions could scarcely be serious, since she continued, after 
 having refused him, to accept his attentions. 
 
 From the moment Gertrude entered the reception-hall 
 with her cousin, she had felt the eyes of her indefatigable 
 admirer upon her. While she danced with Aleck, they 
 followed her with their calm, expressionless gaze. 
 
 " Do get that Ramsdale to look at somebody else, Aleck," 
 she said ; " I assure you he is burning a hole in the back of 
 my head." 
 
 " Who else is there here worth looking at ? " asked Aleck, 
 in the spirit of gallantry. 
 
 "Oh, Aleck ! That from you ! It is too much." 
 
 " Not at all. Don't mention it. Or rather put it down 
 to my credit, as a fund to draw against when my mood 
 changes." 
 
 11 Why doesn't he stare at Bella Robbins ?" 
 
28 THE MAMMON 
 
 " That would be a thankless task. She has eyes for no 
 one but Horace." 
 
 " But for him she has a great deal." 
 
 "Of eyes?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 They danced aiong with leisurely swings and caprices 
 for some minutes. 
 
 " Oh, dear, what a mixed up world this is ! " sighed the 
 girl ; "why can't everybody let everybody else alone ? " 
 
 " If he did, the world would fall into a million pieces." 
 
 " So much the better." 
 
 " Civilization would come to an end." 
 
 " Better still. I have always felt in myself a taste for 
 savagery." 
 
 " Man is a gregarious animal." 
 
 " I am not a gregarious animal." 
 
 "Oh, yes, you are ; you are only a trifle fastidious in 
 your gregariousness." 
 
 She raised her large, dark-blue eyes slowly to her 
 cousin's face, and he looked smilingly into them, and saw 
 the little flame-like lines in the iris radiating from the 
 pupils, and little cloudy dots in the blue which made it 
 look doubly blue. 
 
 "Aren't you just a little bit unendurable, Aleck ? " she 
 asked, with ominous gentleness. 
 
 " Oh, yes, I am a little bit anything you like. But 
 you look so love'ly to-night, Gertie, that you can afford to 
 be magnanimous." 
 
 The music came to a stop in the middle of a bar, by the 
 breaking of the violinist's fourth string ; but several 
 couples still hopped about in a dispirited way, until they 
 became aware that they were having the floor to them- 
 selves. Then they ceased half-wonderingly, and walked 
 apart, with no pretence of ceremony. Doctor Hawk and 
 Professor Ramsdale both hastened from opposite sides of 
 the hall toward Gertrude ; but the athletic Professor, in his 
 blind zeal, knocked down a freshman, to whom he stopped 
 to apologize. Thereby the Doctor gained an advantage, 
 and Gertrude gained another. For she preferred, on the 
 whole, the Doctor's society to that of the Professor. The 
 latter, finding that he had lost the race, stared with his 
 calm fish-eyes at his rival's back, which was turned toward 
 him with defiant bravado ; then without trace of ill-will or 
 discomfiture, walked off and consoled himself with a little 
 co-educational damsel, who received his attention with un- 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 29 
 
 disguised gratitude. The music presently started up again, 
 minus the violin, and the measure of her bliss was full, 
 when he asked her to dance. 
 
 "Do tell me, Professor," she said, as he put his arm 
 about her waist and swung her out upon the floor, " what 
 is the substance of Schopenhauer's Ethics ? Do you re- 
 gard Hartmann as a fair expounder of Schopenhauer ?" 
 
 " No," answered Ramsdale, stolidly ; but he refused to 
 commit himself further. He was asking himself bitterly, 
 if life was worth living. His fortunate rival was appar- 
 ently troubled with the same query. 
 
 "Life, life, life!" he exclaimed, dramatically, when 
 Alexander had betaken himself off. He made a point of 
 never saying what was expected of him, and to Gertrude, 
 who seemed to herself to be daily smothered in common- 
 places, it was this element of surprise in his speech which 
 made him attractive. He was one of the few men she 
 knew who did not bore her. 
 
 " Have you been jilted, Doctor, or what is the matter ? " 
 she asked, laughing. 
 
 Hawk contracted his brows with displeasure. 
 
 " I could well imagine a woman refusing me, Miss Ger- 
 trude," he said, deep down in his melodious bass, "but 
 jilt me, never." 
 
 " Why the one any more than the other ?" 
 
 " The measure of a woman is the man she loves the 
 man she is capable of loving. The woman capable of 
 loving me would for that very reason be incapable of jilt- 
 ing me." 
 
 "That is a neatly turned compliment to yourself." 
 
 " I should say it was a neatly turned compliment to 
 you." 
 
 The audacity of his repartee prevented her for a moment 
 from fully comprehending it. As its meaning dawned 
 upon her, however, an indignant blush mounted to her 
 cheeks, and the animation in her eyes was suddenly 
 quenched, leaving a chilly vacuity. The Doctor perceived 
 that he had made a mistake, but instead of blaming him- 
 self for it, he blamed Gertrude. For a moment he fairly 
 hated her. Ramsdale, whose watchful stare had never 
 been averted, perceived that now was his opportunity. 
 With imperturbable seriousness, he took leave of his co- 
 educational damsel and presented himself at Gertrude's 
 elbow" at the very moment when she was wishing for a 
 convenient escape. She seized his^irm almost with alac- 
 
30 THE MAMMON 
 
 rity, and responded with freezing hauteur to the Doctor's 
 mock-ceremonious salutation. The Professor was fairly 
 aglow with pleasure and pride. He bore his charge away 
 in triumph, while the floor seemed to undulate under his 
 feet. His face, however, betrayed no trace of agitation. 
 
 " May I have the pleasure of dancing the next waltz 
 with you, Miss Larkin?" he inquired, in tones of the 
 solemnest prose. 
 
 "You may, Mr. Ramsdale." 
 
 "Thank you." 
 
 The orchestra, which in the meanwhile had been en- 
 riched with a piccolo flute, struck up the desired waltz, 
 and he lost no time in placing his arm firmly about Ger- 
 trude's waist and sailing out upon the unoccupied floor. 
 Here he was in his element. He danced as naturally as a 
 fish swims, and almost as gracefully. It was a luxury, after 
 the exhausting conversation of Dr. Hawk, to rest in the 
 clasp of an athletic arm and be guided passively on and 
 around and about in all sorts of surprising turns and 
 swings, and feel'no responsibility and no need of effort, 
 but a mere instinctive surrender to the rhythm of the 
 music. It was with regret that she heard her partner's 
 voice, in which there was a thick, "grouty" tone, uttering 
 something which, though it was far from abstruse, she 
 failed to comprehend. 
 
 " Have you seen the new 'varsity crew ?" the Professor 
 repeated. 
 
 "No." 
 
 "They row in very good form." 
 
 "Indeed!" 
 
 " Heavy men, all of them. I believe in heavy men, 
 don't you ?" 
 
 " Believe in heavy men ? Well, I don't know. I have 
 known some slender men, too, whom I have liked very 
 well." 
 
 "I mean in a boat." 
 
 "In a boat ? Oh, yes. But a man whom I like on dry 
 land I am also apt to like in a boat." 
 
 The fact was she had scarcely listened, and answered at 
 random. She was rehearsing in her thoughts Dr. Hawk's 
 insolent remarks, and was wondering what he really could 
 have meant by them. If he was in love with her, that was 
 certainly not the way to tell her of it. If it was mere van- 
 ity on his part or a constitutional inability to refrain 
 from uttering* whatever came into his head then he de- 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS, 31 
 
 served to be punished, and punished he should be. How 
 she was to punish him she could not decide, but she had 
 time enough to think of that before they met again. 
 
 "The coxswain weighs only ninety-four pounds," Rams- 
 dale observed, as he suddenly changed his step from a slow 
 gliding motion to a quick three-quarter measure. 
 
 " Indeed ! " she answered, absently, " how remarkable ! " 
 " Oh, no, it isn't very remarkable ; he is only sixteen 
 years old." 
 
 " He must be very large for his age," she said, in order 
 to say something. 
 
 "Why, no, he is very small for his age," her imperturb- 
 able partner replied. 
 
 " I thought you said the crew were all heavy men." 
 " So I did ; but the coxswain isn't the crew." 
 She had to laugh in spite of her vexation, and he, 
 though not comprehending why she was amused, joined 
 her with a good-natured grunt. He admired her so ab- 
 jectly that he did instinctively whatever he believed would 
 please her. He cudgelled his brain for some time to find 
 another topic of conversation, and hit finally upon one 
 which seemed appropriate. 
 
 "Don't you think the scenery about Torryville is beau- 
 tiful?" he inquired, feeling sure that here, at last, was a 
 bond of sympathy. 
 
 "No," she answered, wilfully ; "I think it is hideous." 
 " The waterfalls and the ravines seem to me quite hand- 
 some," he continued, not in the least disconcerted. 
 "They seem to me frightfully wearisome." 
 "You mean to climb?" 
 " No, to look at and talk about." 
 " I see you are not fond of nature." 
 " I am not fond of anything or anybody." 
 " Isn't that rather an uncomfortable state to be in ? " 
 " No, I thank you ; it is a very comfortable state the 
 only comfortable state." 
 
 A slow wonder began to stir in the interior of Mr. Rams- 
 dale's brain, but it did not affect his immobile features. 
 He had but a slight acquaintance with the fair sex, and 
 felt incompetent to interpret its moods. He thought of 
 Virgil's famous mutabile et varium, etc. ; and it occurred to 
 him that Dido, very likely, had cut up in this style with 
 JEneas. There were plenty of historic examples to ac- 
 count for it, and all classical writers agreed in the opinion 
 that it was not to be taken seriously. But for all that, 
 
32 THE MAMMON 
 
 such rash and inconsequent speech could never lose its 
 power to inflict pain and discomfort. Nevertheless, Ger- 
 trude in a disagreeable mood was better than no Gertrude 
 at all, and Ramsdale held her doggedly in his firm semi- 
 embrace as long as the music continued to supply an ex- 
 cuse for such felicity. When that excuse ceased, he of- 
 fered her his arm and conducted her to a long table of 
 unpainted boards, upon which were piled up coffee cups, 
 plates, and pyramids of sandwiches. It was all of a coarse 
 and substantial kind. From one end of the table some- 
 thing was served which was euphemistically called ice- 
 cream, but tasted like frozen corn-starch or custard. Here 
 they ran against Horace and Miss Robbins who, with her 
 pathetic smile, was listening to his authoritative discourse. 
 They were talking of Miss Kate Van Schaak, a young lady 
 from New York, whom Bella had recently been visiting. 
 
 " You would be sure to fall in love with her, Mr. Lar- 
 kin," she was saying, in her languidly caressing tone. 
 She had frequently before exhorted him to fall in love 
 with this or that girl, whom she suspected him of liking, 
 merely for the comfort of hearing his blunt refusals. 
 
 "Kate is such a charming girl," she continued ; "she is 
 a perfect angel." 
 
 " Then she wouldn't do for me," Horace replied, with 
 gratifying decision. 
 
 " Why so ? " 
 
 " Angels, as a rule, have no money." 
 
 " There you are mistaken. Kate is a rich angel. She 
 has a great deal of money. But you surely don't intend to 
 marry for money, Mr. Larkin?" 
 
 " Not exactly. I intend to marry first health, then 
 wealth, and thirdly a good temper ! " 
 
 Bella's heart sank within her ; she was conspicuous 
 neither for health nor wealth ; nay, was rather lacking in 
 both. She hoped, however, that her good temper might 
 suffice to compensate for her deficiencies. 
 
 " Then you do not intend to marry for love ? " she said, 
 looking up into his face with her imploring smile. 
 
 " No," he answered, briefly. 
 
 " But that is a terrible declaration, Mr. Larkin." 
 
 " I don't see why it is terrible. If I have a healthy and 
 good-tempered wife, who, moreover, has a material claim 
 upon my gratitude, I shall be sure to love her." 
 
 ." But would she be sure to love you ? " 
 
 M \ shall demand very little of her in that direction. To 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 33 
 
 be frank, Miss Bella, I think all this talk about love is nine- 
 tenths twaddle. We talk of love as if it were a tremendous, 
 overwhelming, inexorable power in our lives which we 
 have got blindly to submit to. But, as a matter of fact, 
 does such a passion invade the lives of many modern men 
 and women in the United States? In the Middle Ages, 
 when men were more passionate and less rational more 
 barbaric, in other words I know that love and hate, and 
 avarice, and all the savage, animal instincts were the 
 tremendous forces they have been represented to be. At 
 the present time, too, we have savages of this kind, 
 incapable of restraining their natures ; but most of them 
 are in jail, and those who are not, ought to be." 
 
 " People who are capable of loving passionately ought 
 to be in jail! " exclaimed the girl, horrified. 
 
 "Yes, if you like," Horace replied, delighting in the 
 paradox. 
 
 " And you would like to be their jailer?" 
 
 "If I had nothing better to do, I might ; but for the 
 moment I find the law business more profitable." 
 
 " Mr. Larkin, I don't believe you mean what you are 
 saying," she exclaimed, pathetically. " You said yourself 
 a while ago, that you intended to love your wife after 
 marriage." 
 
 Horace twisted his mustache for a moment, and looked 
 at the earnest and somewhat agitated face of the girl with 
 his quizzical smile. It amused him to see what a power he 
 had over her, and how completely he could sway her by 
 his words ; calling up any emotion he might desire. At 
 the same time he was conscious of a little twinge of 
 conscience and a sort of supercilious kindness for her 
 helplessness. That she was in love with him he had long 
 known ; but while formerly this unrequited devotion had 
 appeared half ridiculous, it now suddenly became a 
 meritorious thing and a claim to consideration. He had 
 shocked her enough for one evening ; he could now afford 
 to humor her sentimentality, as far as his dignity permitted. 
 
 "The fact is, Miss Bella," he began leisurely, tossing the 
 charm of his watch-chain up and down on his index- 
 finger, " love, before marriage, has a hard struggle for 
 existence, through a long engagement with its lovers' 
 quarrels, experimental flirtations, and other fatalities. 
 You know yourself " 
 
 " Indeed I do not, Mr. Larkin," she interrupted, eagerly. 
 
 "I mean by observation, not from experience," he 
 
34 THE MAMMON 
 
 rejoined, with laughing eyes. "You know how often it 
 dies prematurely, and its little corpse is, after marriage, 
 decked out pathetically into a semblance of life. Husband 
 and wife walk on tiptoe, as if afraid to disturb it, though 
 they both know that the trump of doom could not rouse it 
 into life. If, on the other hand, love is born after marriage, 
 it is such a delicate little thing and so much depends upon 
 its survival, that no sane person would expose it to the 
 rough and haphazard treatment which it often has to suffer 
 at the hands* of ignorant lovers. By such tender care, 
 applied during its infancy, love has a much better 
 chance of survival, and soon grows stro'ng enough to take 
 care of itself." 
 
 The young man sipped his coffee leisurely out of a thick 
 cup of white crockery, and made two or three sandwiches 
 disappear under his moustache, while he delivered this 
 fanciful discourse on the nature of love. He looked solid, 
 reliable, and aggressively masculine, as he stood there in 
 his closely-buttoned frock-coat (he had a stubborn pre- 
 judice against the swallow-tail), and uttered sententious 
 phrases which obviously delighted himself as much as they 
 did his listener. He stood with his legs somewhat apart, 
 and occasionally, while speaking, balanced himself upon 
 his toes. The four fingers of his hands, when they were not 
 occupied, were usually in his trousers' pockets, while the 
 thumbs moved slowly up and down on the border of his 
 waistcoat, keeping pace with the labor of his brain, as a 
 pendulum does with that of a clock. 
 
 Miss Robbins, who watched him with the same devotion 
 when he ate as when he talked, did not attempt to conceal 
 the pleasure she felt at having him make concessions to 
 her sentiments. 
 
 " Then you do believe in love?" she exclaimed, joyfully, 
 arresting a teaspoon with ice-cream on its way to her 
 dainty mouth. 
 
 Horace put his coffee cup on the table, brushed some 
 crumbs from his coat with his napkin, and having relieved 
 Miss Robbins of her saucer, offered her his arm. 
 
 "You do believe in love, don't you?" she repeated, 
 coaxingly. 
 
 " I have said nothing of the kind," he answered, gazing 
 at her with an amused expression. " I am afraid we shall 
 have to begin all over again." 
 
 It was but a little after ten when the guests began to 
 take their leave, and both host and hostess indicated by 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 35 
 
 half-suppressed yawns that they had no objection to their 
 departure. 
 
 "I do hope you have had a pleasant evening," or " I 
 hope you have enjoyed yourself," they said to each one as 
 he came up to shake hands ; and the reply was, " Yes, I 
 thank you very much," or " I have had a perfectly lovely 
 time," according as the departing guest was of the male 
 or the female gender. While a few vivacious couples were 
 still lingering, a rough-looking functionary in shirt-sleeves 
 came in and began to remove the table and put out one 
 gas-jet after another. So far from being offended, they 
 took it in good part, and joked familiarly with him on his 
 lack of hospitality. 
 
 Outside the air was chill and raw, and the moon, whose 
 face was entangled in misty cobwebs, was vainly trying to 
 unveil. A white mist hovered over the surface of the lake, 
 and drifted in shreds up the hill-sides. But out of the 
 mist came the gay voices of young people ; shrill little 
 laughs, petulant cries, and hysterical shrieks, which held 
 the same proportion to their provocation as a hen's cackle, 
 with all the sympathetic commotion of the poultry-yard, 
 does to one little innocent egg. It was regarded as perfectly 
 proper in Torryville for young men to escort the young 
 girls home from parties, and to linger as long on the way 
 as they saw fit. The chaperon was an unknown character, 
 and parents felt like awkward intruders, if by chance they 
 dropped in upon their daughter when she was "having 
 company." It did not occur either to Mr. or Mrs. Larkin, 
 as they drove down the hill-side in a high buggy (which 
 was a monument of discomfort) to inquire about Gertrude, 
 or to trouble themselves about how or when she reached 
 home. They knew that young men were apt to be more 
 entertaining to a girl of her age than her parents, and they 
 saw no impropriety in having her consult her preferences. 
 The gainer by this arrangement was Professor Ramsdale, 
 who in a state of tranquil bliss marched down the steep 
 slope, holding Gertrude's arm as tightly as formerly he 
 had held her waist. He made some spasmodic efforts to 
 be poetical, hoping thereby to induce her to talk. He 
 related soberly how on one occasion, when he was in col- 
 lege, he had felt a strong impulse to write a poem to the 
 moon, but after two hours' labor had got no further than 
 the first line. She then naturally inquired what the first 
 line was, to which he replied : " Oh, moon ! " but could 
 get no further. 
 
36 THE MAMMON* 
 
 This seemed so irresistibly funny that she began to laugh, 
 and she continued to laugh nearly all the way, until they 
 reached the streets of the village. Ramsdale was so elated 
 at her appreciation of his unintentional humor, that he 
 seized the opportunity to mention something that he had 
 long had at heart. 
 
 " Do you suppose you have the courage to share a 
 scholar's quiet and uneventful life, Miss Gertrude?" he 
 asked, with an eloquence which bore marks of preparation. 
 
 "That would largely depend upon who the scholar 
 was," said Gertrude, maliciously. 
 
 There was something in the tone of her voice which 
 discouraged him, but after a reflective pause he again 
 began : 
 
 " Suppose it was one who loved you ?" 
 
 "Oh, that wouldn't make so much difference," she an- 
 swered, recklessly; " the question would rather be whether 
 I loved him." 
 
 "Well, suppose you did?" 
 
 " That is a very daring thing to suppose, Mr. Ramsdale. 
 It is one of the things which in the Latin grammar they 
 would have put in the imperfect subjunctive." 
 
 "Why so?" 
 
 " Because it is contrary to fact." 
 
 The bantering tone in which she spoke seemed yet to 
 leave a little hope that she might not be in earnest. And 
 determined to have the subject finally disposed of, he 
 took courage, after another pause, to remark : 
 
 " A vine-embowered cottage in a quiet university town 
 would not satisfy your ambition, Miss Gertrude, would it ?" 
 
 " That would all depend upon who lived in it." 
 
 "Suppose I lived in it?" 
 
 "Then I don't see what it has to do with my ambition." 
 
 " I mean, of course, in case we were married." 
 
 " Ah, there you are again in the imperfect subjunctive," 
 she ejaculated, laughing; "but to be serious, Mr. Ranio- 
 dale, you are so good a man that you deserve a wife who 
 will love you in the present indicative. I cannot." 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 37 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE SCHOLAR IN POLITICS. 
 
 The town of Torryville was originally built on low, 
 swampy land, where a couple of ^mall streams flow into 
 the lake. The first settlers, as well as their descen- 
 dants, were soundly shaken for this piece of folly ; for 
 the ague came and made its home among them, though it 
 was regarded as high treason to recognize its existence. 
 It had been known to exist in the neighboring county, but 
 in Torryville not a case had ever occurred that was not 
 imported from elsewhere. This belief did not prevent 
 those who had real estate in the town from selling at a 
 sacrifice, and rebuilding their homes up along the eastern 
 hill-side, which had a natural drainage and was free from 
 malarial influences. It looked from a distance as if the 
 whole town, in the effort to escape from the disadvantages 
 of its original position, was climbing " the hill ; " and stately 
 houses of wood, brick, and sandstone, surrounded by pretty 
 garden-patches, dotted the green eastern slope, on the 
 crest of which lay the great piles of masonry which collec- 
 tively constituted the Larkin University. Half-way down 
 the slope, a little to the north of the inhabited portion, the 
 white obelisks and broken symbolical columns of the 
 cemetery gleamed among the foliage of elms and chest- 
 nuts and maples. Although medical experts had proved 
 again and again that the dead, in their picturesque resting- 
 place, were engaged in slaying their descendants that, in 
 other words, the cemetery poisoned the wells of the town 
 it took twenty years of agitation before a reservoir was 
 built and the water saved from contamination. And even 
 then, it would not have been done, if Mr. Larkin had not, 
 for the welfare of his University, championed the cause, 
 and demonstrated with irrefutable figures that it was a 
 paying investment. The clerical argument (which had 
 hitherto had most weight) that the building of a reservoir 
 would imply distrust of Divine Providence, then gradu- 
 ally disappeared and was heard of no more. The same 
 
38 THE MAMMON 
 
 fate befell the ghastly joke which originated in student 
 circles, that the Torryvilleans were cannibals, because they 
 drank their ancestors. 
 
 One evening in October of the year in which our nar- 
 rative opens, a crowd of citizens of all degrees was gath- 
 ered in the Main Street, outside of a great barn-like build- 
 ing which looked like an exaggerated cigar-box, and 
 rejoiced in the name of " Tappan's Opera House." The 
 street, which was lined at irregular intervals with hitching- 
 posts for farmers' horses, had the ragged and shabby look 
 of the main business street in most country towns. Tall an- 
 gular brick buildings devoid of style loomed up between 
 one-story wooden shanties, exhibiting big glaring signs, with 
 the names of job printers, book-sellers, hardware dealers, 
 dentists, and saddlers. Whether you loolced up or down, the 
 irregular line of the roofs resembled that of a broken-toothed 
 comb. The middle of the street was muddy, and full of holes, 
 showing here and there remnants of a pavement ; but the 
 stone sidewalks were dry and would have been comfort- 
 able for walking, if they had not been encumbered with 
 empty boxes and barrels, which in fair weather served as 
 seats for that part of the male population which was so- 
 cially inclined. To-night they were occupied by boys who 
 in the dearth of other amusement hooted, yelled, blew fish- 
 horns, and cheered or groaned as the prominent citizens 
 of the village filed into Tappan's Hall. For there was 
 going to be a Republican primary for the nomination of 
 delegates for the county convention. The little clique of 
 six men who " ran " the politics of the town had suffered 
 a defeat at the last election, and had therefore found it ad- 
 visable, in the words of the Torryville Herald, " to rally 
 the business interests, the virtue and the intelligence of 
 the community about the grand old banner." They had 
 therefore issued a ringing appeal, full of warlike similes, 
 to the Republican voters of the county, and invited their 
 active participation in the primaries and nominating con- 
 ventions of the party. Even the quiet professors on the 
 Hill, who rarely voted in off-years, unless a candidate sent a 
 buggy to bring them to the polls, were summoned " to 
 save the county from the ruin and disgrace of a Democratic 
 victory ; " and as there had recently been a good deal of dis- 
 cussion in the press as to the political duty of scholars, most 
 of them braved the jeers of the hilarious boys on the dry- 
 goods boxes, and entered the hall where the destinies of 
 the republic were to be decided. 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 39 
 
 "Shoot that hat!" someone yelled, as Professor Dovvd 
 came in sight, wearing an unseasonable white hat ; and a 
 tremendous chorus of hooting, whistling, shrieking, and 
 Indian war-whoops followed. 
 
 " Hooray for old Grant ! " a small boy shouted irrelev- 
 antly, and the same ear-splitting chorus again rent the 
 air. 
 
 When Mr. Larkin appeared, accompanied by his two 
 nephews, the crowd went wild with enthusiasm ; but 
 through the noise all sorts of disrespectful remarks might 
 be heard. 
 
 "How are you, old chap?" "Pull down your vest!" 
 " Give us a chaw of tobaccer, will yer ?" were some of the 
 observations which greeted the old gentleman's ears, as he 
 elbowed his way to the door of the hall. He nodded smil- 
 ing to the boys over his shoulder, feeling no resentment, 
 but rather pride, at their affectionate familiarity. 
 
 The political wire-pullers, who were present in force, re- 
 ceived him with effusive cordiality. Horace and Aleck 
 were likewise heartily welcomed, but declined to take seats 
 among the party managers. One of the latter, an alert 
 little red-whiskered man, named Mr. Dallas, called the 
 primary to order, and made a speech about the poor ne- 
 groes in the South, who were slaughtered like cattle if 
 they ventured to exercise their political rights. The 
 Democrats, he said, were traitors and copperheads, and it 
 was an outrage for the people of this county to have al- 
 lowed them to elect their candidates last November. He 
 spoke throughout as if the Democrats were not citi- 
 zens, but a "hostile, invading force, which plotted de- 
 struction and the overthrow of the liberties of the land. 
 In order to prevent further mischief in the South and 
 elsewhere, it was necessary to elect only Republicans to 
 office in Talbot County. He felt confident that in pre- 
 senting the following names to the primary he was giving 
 voice to the feelings of every voter to whom the princi- 
 ples of the grand old Republican "pairty" were sacred 
 and precious. He then read the list of the delegates, ac- 
 companying each name with an eloquent eulogy ; and, as 
 the evening was already far advanced, and he was confi- 
 dent of the unanimity of sentiment w T hich prevailed in 
 the meeting, he felt justified in asking the nomination of 
 the five gentlemen he had named by acclamation, and 
 that they be left unpledged as to their votes in the con- 
 vention. 
 
4O THE MAMMON 
 
 A generous round of applause rewarded Mr. Dallas's 
 eloquence, although he spoke through his nose and oc- 
 casionally got into conflict with the English grammar. He 
 was followed by a bilious-looking tanner, named Graves, 
 who spoke in the same strain, only more excitedly. It 
 appeared that the very destiny of the nation was at stake, 
 and that unless the candidates proposed to the primary 
 were elected, he Mr. Graves would not like to be an- 
 swerable for the consequences. He hinted at the direst 
 calamities business disturbance, national bankruptcy, 
 the re-enslavement of the negroes, general anarchy and 
 ruin. As he took his seat with a perspiring countenance, 
 flushed with noble excitement, a few cat-calls were heard, 
 but these were immediately drowned in a burst of ap- 
 plause, which showed that the temper of the assembly was 
 patriotic rather than critical. A few there were, however, 
 who failed to be carried away by the general enthusiasm. 
 
 " What impudence ! " whispered Horace Larkin to his 
 brother. " That fellow Dallas and his gang, after having 
 conferred with Senator Harkness, meet in his back office, 
 and make up a slate, consisting without exception of po- 
 litical bummers. Then they try to make sensible people 
 believe that the country will go to the dogs, unless they 
 are elected." 
 
 " But why don't you say that, Horace ? You would be 
 doing a good thing if you could open people's eyes." 
 
 " Say it ? What's the good of saying it ? If people are 
 such fools as to believe such buncombe, I am not the one 
 to undeceive them. Moreover, those fellows have the po- 
 litical machinery in their hands, and I don't care to make 
 them my enemies." 
 
 " I didn't think you were such a coward, Horace," said 
 his brother, reproachfully. 
 
 " Coward ! No, I am not a coward ; but neither am I 
 a fool." 
 
 " You mean to say that you may yourself some day want 
 a nomination ? " 
 
 "Well, I don't mind telling you that some day I may." 
 
 " And you would consent to run on the same ticket with 
 such a disreputable shyster as that fellow, Burton, whom 
 they are going to put up for circuit judge in the place of 
 a learned and honorable man like Judge Wolf ?" 
 
 " What does the rest of the ticket concern me ? I don't 
 assume responsibility for anybody's morals but my own." 
 
 The brothers were yet talking when they heard the 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 41 
 
 chairman put the motion to nominate the ticket by accla- 
 mation. There was no question but that it would have 
 been overwhelmingly carried, when suddenly, to every- 
 body's surprise, Alexander Larkin jumped up and ad- 
 dressed the chair. 
 
 "I cannot but think, Mr. Chairman," he began, "that, 
 whether intentionally or not, you have on the present oc- 
 casion shown small respect for the intelligence of the Re- 
 publican party, which you have just, in such eloquent 
 words, exalted. You have invited here the best citizens 
 of our town, under the pretence of wishing to consult with 
 them as to who ought to represent them in the legislature 
 and conduct their public business during the ensuing year ; 
 and when the citizens accept your invitation, you first treat 
 them to a tirade concerning the condition of the negro in 
 the South, as a preparation to springing upon them a 
 ready-made slate, which you and a few of your friends 
 have agreed upon in your back office." 
 
 The consternation of the gentlemen on the platform, at 
 this unexpected attack, was almost ridiculous to behold. 
 They at first scarcely knew what to make of it ; but when 
 loud cheering for a moment interrupted the daring orator, 
 Mr. Dallas, white with excitement, stepped forward and 
 called out : 
 
 " The gentleman is out of order." 
 
 It was astonishing with what quickness the temper of 
 the meeting had changed ; the unheard-of boldness of the 
 young man had won its sympathy and admiration. A de- 
 risive shout greeted the chairman's declaration. 
 
 "May I inquire," asked Aleck, much emboldened by 
 the cheering, "in accordance with what rule of Gush- 
 ing or any other recognized manual of parliamentary pro- 
 ceedings I am out of order?" 
 
 "You have made no motion," cried Dallas. 
 
 " But I supposed your motion was debatable ; indeed, I 
 should judge it was very much so." 
 
 " I rule you out of order, sir," shouted the chairman, 
 quickly changing his tactics, "because you are not talking 
 on my motion ; your remarks are personal and irrelevant." 
 
 " Then I offer this amendment to your motion," Aleck re- 
 torted promptly, " that the delegates be elected by ballot, 
 not by acclamation. This amendment naturally takes 
 precedence of your motion, and I presume you will not rule 
 me out of order if I proceed to give my reasons for offering 
 it." 
 
42 THE MAMMON 
 
 Mr. Dallas was at his wits' end. He stood staring with a 
 look of astonishment and disgust upon the applauding 
 multitude. He had to head this incipient reformer off, at 
 all risks, or the spirit of rebellion would spread, and the 
 occupation of himself and his comrades would be irretriev- 
 ably gone. While he was cudgelling his brain to invent an 
 expedient, one of his colleagues, Mr. Watson, stepped 
 forward and whispered something in his ear ; whereat his 
 troubled countenance brightened. Mr. Watson then de- 
 scended into the audience, and was seen no more. But 
 suddenly, from the part of the hall which he was visiting, 
 a man jumped up and moved an adjournment. 
 
 " It appears," said he, " that this primary has been 
 packed by the Democrats, and I move, sir, an adjournment, 
 subject to the call of the chair." 
 
 That was a bold move, but a little too bare-faced to 
 succeed. Three men jumped up from different parts of 
 the hall, and excitedly demanded the floor. 
 
 " The gentlemen are out of order," Mr. Dallas again de- 
 clared ; " a motion to adjourn is not debatable. It has been 
 moved and seconded that this meeting adjourn, subject to 
 the call of the chair. Those in favor of the motion will 
 signify it by saying 'aye.'" 
 
 A dozen spiritless ' ayes ' popped up irregularly, here 
 and there, like frogs out of a pond. 
 
 "Those opposed " 
 
 The " nays " came with a volume and a determination 
 which made the result unmistakable. The overwhelming 
 decision made Mr. Dallas afraid of resorting to his last 
 expedient, viz., to declare that " the ayes have it," and be- 
 fore anyone could raise a question, leave the platform and 
 the hall. There was always the danger of alienating the 
 party and being defeated at the polls, instead of conciliating 
 it and winning a victory. In pure despair and to gain time, 
 he declared that "the chair was in doubt ;" but that was 
 an awkward move, and it was greeted with derisive shouts 
 of laughter. 
 
 There still remained one possible remedy. Mr. Dallas 
 gave the chair to the bilious-looking tanner, and after a 
 whispered conversation with Mr. Larkin, descended from 
 the platform and walked up to where Aleck and Horace 
 were sitting. He shook hands with both the brothers, as 
 if they were his dearest friends, quite forgetting that he had 
 already greeted them on their entrance. After a smiling 
 inquiry regarding their health, he asked Aleck if he would 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 43 
 
 not have the kindness to accompany him to the committee 
 room, behind the stage. Aleck, though he had no desire 
 for a private interview, arose and was amazed to sec Mr. 
 Dallas put his arm through his and begin to talk to him 
 with a sort of laughing cordiality which seemed to imply 
 that they understood each other perfectly. It began to 
 dawn upon him that, perhaps, the wily politician meant 
 to discredit him, by raising at least -a doubt in the minds 
 of the assembly as to whether he was not himself in the 
 ring, and had made this little row at the instigation of the 
 very men whom he was pretending to antagonize. The 
 thought drove the blood to his face and made him pause 
 for a moment at the door of the committee room, which 
 Mr. Dallas had opened before him. He knew that he 
 could not match himself in cunning with this accomplished 
 trickster, and felt, as he was about to enter his den, an un- 
 easy expectation that in the end he would manage to out- 
 wit him. 
 
 As soon as they were inside the room, which was de- 
 corated with campaign portraits and littered with torn pa- 
 per and envelopes, Mr. Dallas handed his young friend a 
 box of cigars, and asked him to help himself. 
 
 " My dear young fellow," he began, with affectionate 
 deliberation, as soon as they had both seated themselves ; 
 "you stand upon the threshold of a career which you can 
 make almost anything you like. I mean what I say, sir," 
 he continued, as he observed in Aleck an inclination to 
 contradict ; " I mean it literally. With your opportunities, 
 your fine appearance yes, sir, I must insist upon it with 
 your fine appearance, and your, commanding talents, 
 there need be nothing which, in this grand republic of 
 ours, you might not legitimately aspire to." 
 
 This affectionate tone had, at first, the effect of half dis- 
 arming the young man, and if he had only had confidence 
 in Mr. Dallas's character he would, no doubt, have surren- 
 dered. But as he recalled the situation clearly to his 
 mind, and his own purpose never to compromise with 
 evil, he felt his courage rise. 
 
 " I shall aspire to nothing, Mr. Dallas," he said, a little 
 hotly, " which will compel me to put my self-respect in 
 my pocket." 
 
 " Oh, of course not, of course not," rejoined the poli- 
 tician, suavely ; but, after a pause he added, laughing, 
 " though, to be sure, that is not a bad place to have it 
 ready to be hauled out whenever there is call for it." 
 
44 THE MAMMON 
 
 Though he was not sure it was good policy, he could 
 not deny himself the luxury of the joke. 
 
 " What I mean to say," he continued, as if eager to brush 
 the little Mephistophelian hint out of sight, "is that you 
 have a great political future before you, if you make a 
 prudent -use of your opportunities. I may as well tell you 
 at once that if you care to go to the legislature, I think we 
 can make a niche for you. We only put up that fellow, 
 Greene, because we had no one better. But I'll see that 
 he is taken care of, anyway." 
 
 There was to Aleck something very insinuating in Mr. 
 Dallas's speech ; something well-meant and elder-brotherly, 
 which would have made an abrupt refusal on his part 
 seem little less than brutal. There could be no doubt 
 that he meant what he said ; he had it in his power to 
 make the nomination, and Aleck flattered himself that, if 
 nominated, there could be no doubt of his election. It 
 was no very grand thing, to be sure, to be an assembly- 
 man ; but it was necessary to begin on the lowest rung of 
 the ladder if he meant to climb to the highest ones. He 
 had a sudden widening of vision, and all sorts of alluring 
 things rose up, one behind another, in the dim distance. 
 
 " I believe, without flattering myself," he remarked, 
 with a slight embarrassment, " that I have a considerable 
 aptitude for public affairs." 
 
 It occurred to him, when he had uttered this sentiment, 
 that in all probability it must have struck his interlocutor 
 as very fresh. Possibly he was sitting and laughing at him 
 in his sleeve. But the kindly gravity with which Mr. 
 Dallas answered precluded such a suspicion. 
 
 "Yes," he said, "I haven't a doubt of it. I wonder at 
 myself that I never thought of you before." 
 
 This adroit flattery was like music to Aleck's ears ; it 
 put him off his guard and, in his agreeable exhilaration, 
 made him seem at peace with all the world. 
 
 " I may say," he observed, guilelessly, " that politics has 
 always had a great attraction to me. I studied political 
 economy in college, and have since collected a very fair 
 library in that science and in constitutional history." 
 
 He could not tell why his ears burned so uncomfort- 
 ably, why such a terrible awkwardness stole over him, be- 
 fore these words were fairly out of his mouth. He looked 
 anxiously at Mr. Dallas, and thought he detected a ghost 
 of a smile lurking about the corners of his mouth. At that 
 very moment a great laugh, followed by hooting and cat- 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 45 
 
 calls, reached him from the hall. He sprang up, knocking 
 over his chair, and darted toward the door. 
 
 " Hold on ! '' cried Dallas, "what's your hurry ? " 
 
 " I must go." 
 
 " No, don't go yet. I have got to make some little ar- 
 rangements with you before presenting your name to the 
 convention." 
 
 " I won't make any arrangements with you, Mr. Dallas." 
 
 " Now, don't go off the handle like a goose. I thought 
 we understood each other perfectly." 
 
 "Yes, we do. That is to say, I understand you per- 
 fectly ; you got me in here in order to keep me away 
 from the meeting, where I was interfering with your plans. 
 You have been sitting here trying to bribe me to desert 
 my convictions, simply because you were afraid I should 
 make trouble for you and smash your slate if I stayed in 
 the hall." 
 
 "Aleck Larkin, look here! "cried the politician, spring- 
 ing forward and placing his back against the door; "if 
 
 you open your d mouth again to-night, I'll I'll make 
 
 you regret it until your dying day." 
 
 "All right ! Only, please, get away from the door, so 
 I can get out." 
 
 "You've got a minute to decide in." 
 
 " Go away from the door, I say, or I'll knock you 
 down." 
 
 Mr. Dallas looked, not angrily, but with shrewd scru- 
 tiny at the young man's face; then thrusting his under lip 
 contemptuously forward, moved away. As the door closed 
 upon Aleck's retreating figure he gave a whistle, then 
 broke into a long and picturesquely composite oath. 
 
 It was in a curious frame of mind the young reformer 
 re-entered the hall. Had he, or had he not, been on the 
 point of yielding ? He had always, in speculative mo- 
 ments, imagined himself repelling temptation with heroic 
 decision and contempt ; and here he had actually enter- 
 tained the proposition to accept a bribe as the price of his 
 silence! What was doubly humiliating, he was not now 
 positive whether his sudden indignation had been due to 
 outraged moral feeling, or to the discovery of the trick 
 which the politician had been playing upon him. But if 
 he had been weak, he would seize the opportunity to re- 
 trieve himself. He felt his breast swelling with leonine 
 courage. Now let them come, and they should find out 
 whom they had to deal with. Happily, Professor Dowd 
 
46 THE MAMMON 
 
 had been occupying the time, while he was behind the 
 stage, with a lecture on Kleon and the Athenian de- 
 mocracy, the purpose of which was to show that a democ- 
 racy was only strong as long as it was truly representa- 
 tive, but that its days were numbered as soon as it fell 
 into the hands of an oligarchic clique. He had the cour- 
 age to declare that the six party managers who 'carried 
 out the behests of the all-powerful, office-dispensing sena- 
 tor in Washington, were such an oligarchy, and that it was 
 high time the people rebelled against their rule. This 
 declaration had occasioned the mingled shouts of approval 
 and dissent which had recalled Aleck to his senses, as he 
 was sliding along the broad and slippery way which leads 
 to office arid political distinction. The air as he entered 
 the hall was thick with the smoke of cheap cigars, which 
 hung like a bluish mist above the heads of the people ; 
 and the light from the globeless gas-jets shone dimly, like 
 signal-lights in a fog. The glare of the hideous white 
 plaster on the walls hurt his eyes, and there was not an 
 object anywhere the contemplation of which could have 
 afforded pleasure to the most easily contented. The 
 crowd, which consisted of all sorts and conditions of men, 
 but in which the farmer element predominated, vaguely 
 repelled him, not because he was afraid of it, but because 
 it was ill-dressed, ill-mannered, ill-looking. Under the 
 stress of a mere aesthetic antipathy, he felt the courage 
 which his indignation had kindled in him slowly ebb 
 away. But, if he did not mean to disgrace himself, he 
 could not afford to yield to any such feeling. He hastily 
 ascertained that his amendment had not yet been voted 
 upon, and in order that there might be no mistake as to 
 his own attitude, he arose when Professor Dowd had sat 
 down and demanded the floor. 
 
 " Mr. Chairman," he said, " I have not had the privi- 
 lege of hearing all the remarks of the last speaker, but 
 from his eloquent peroration I conclude that he is in 
 favor of the amendment which I have submitted. I think 
 it is time for the Republicans of this county to wake up 
 and take a look at their political affairs. What does your 
 privilege of voting at present amount to, gentlemen ? Is 
 it not the privilege of choosing between two sets of men, 
 in the nomination of which you have had no hand, and the 
 one of which is usually no better and no worse than the 
 other. Do we not all go to the polls with a protest in our 
 hearts, or with a discouraged or an outraged feeling, as if 
 
- OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 47 
 
 we had been shrewdly circumvented and outwitted ? Are 
 these the men we want to carry on our public business 
 men whom, with one or two honorable exceptions, we 
 would never think of intrusting with any private business 
 in which we had large interests at stake ? This sprinkling 
 of respectability, fellow-republicans, is an old trick, and it 
 can no more redeem a bad ticket than a sprinkling of salt 
 can make a rotten fish wholesome. The opportunity 
 which is to-day presented to you, of showing your influ- 
 ence in favor of a ticket which shall be clean throughout, 
 and representative of the best intelligence and manhood 
 of our county, may not soon return, and I therefore beg of 
 you to support me in this effort to reject the names which 
 have been proposed, and to nominate others worthy of 
 your suffrages, both as regards ability and character. I 
 therefore urge you to favor 'my amendment, that each 
 candidate be voted upon separately, that the nominations 
 be made by ballot, not by acclamation." 
 
 When the customary noise of shouting, clapping, stamp- 
 ing, and hissing had subsided, an old round-backed farmer 
 arose, and in a raucous and solemn voice accused " the 
 young feller as has been makin' the rumpus to-night" of 
 being a paid emissary of the Democrats those arch-plot- 
 ters and enemies of the State charged with sowing the 
 seed of dissension among the Republicans, and thereby 
 breaking up the grand old party which had freed four 
 million slaves, and saved the Union. The managers on 
 the platform and their friends, in the meanwhile, were 
 circulating among the crowd and privately laboring with 
 each man, alleging that Aleck Larkin was nothing but a 
 sore-head ; that he had been wanting the nomination for 
 the Assembly, and that he was kicking up a row simply be- 
 cause the managers had refused point-blank to consider 
 his name. At the end of about half an hour, during which 
 speeches had been made on both sides of the question, 
 they were sure, by actual count, that the amendment would 
 be rejected, and the chairman felt safe in putting the 
 question. Tellers were appointed and the ballots were 
 deposited in two old stove-pipe hats which were placed on 
 a table in front of the platform. -It was nearly eleven 
 o'clock when the vote was finally declared, and what was 
 the amazement of Mr. Dallas and his colleagues, when it 
 was found that their calculations had been all wrong ! One 
 hundred and ten votes had been cast for the amendment ; 
 ninety-seven against. Their slate was accordingly broken, 
 
48 THE MAMMON 
 
 and they were discredited with their master who dispensed 
 favors from Washington. Yet, pending a consultation, 
 they had no choice but to make the best of a bad situa- 
 tion. 
 
 Aleck, flushed with victory, stood with his back against 
 the wall, listening to the tremendous applause that greeted 
 the announcement of the result. Dowd, Ramsdale, Dr. 
 Hawk, and a number of other friends made their way 
 through the crowd, and overwhelmed him with praise 
 and congratulations. All prophesied for him a great poli- 
 tical future ; some, in their enthusiasm, even hinted that 
 it would not surprise them, before long, to see him in Con- 
 gress. Of course, he deprecated their zeal and laughed 
 at their prophecies ; but in his heart of hearts, there 
 seemed in that moment nothing beyond the reach of his 
 power. He felt like some strong creature, endowed with 
 wings which can and must bear him higher and higher. 
 It was not the mere accidental result of the vote which 
 buoyed him up ; but the excitement of the struggle itself 
 had something expanding and exhilarating. He had 
 stood shivering on the brink of his resolution, but like a 
 powerful swimmer, when once he has taken a header, he 
 felt a healthful glow pervading his frame. He was enlisted 
 on the side of the powers of light in their world-old strug- 
 gle with the powers of darkness. He was destined to be 
 one of the leaders in the conflict. Was not such a con- 
 sciousness enough to consecrate a life, and make it beauti- 
 ful ? 
 
 But here was no time for dreaming. Here was practi- 
 cal work at hand. Mr. Dallas, who again occupied the 
 chair, had, with the best grace possible, declared that 
 nominations were in order, and one of his lieutenants on 
 the floor had made a speech recommending the original 
 nominee on the broken slate. Mr. Burton was an obscure 
 young lawyer, without any other practice than such as his 
 political affiliations brought him. No sooner had the 
 lieutenant sat down than Aleck was again on his feet ; but 
 the chair took no notice of him, and gave the floor to an- 
 other of his sympathizers who endorsed Burton. A sec- 
 ond and a third time Aleck demanded the floor, but each 
 time failed to be recognized by the chair. At last, seeing 
 that the oversight was intentional, he walked up and 
 placed himself right in front of the platform, demanding 
 the right to speak. 
 
 "Oh, my dear sir," said Mr. Dallas, smiling; "why, I 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 49 
 
 wasn't aware you wanted to speak. I thought, after your 
 recent effort, you needed rest." 
 
 "You evidently mistook your own feelings for mine," 
 responded Aleck, promptly, and the audience, always ap- 
 preciative of a joke, and sympathizing with opposition, 
 laughed and applauded. The politician had to swallow 
 the bitter pill ; he gave the floor to his opponent. It is 
 needless to report the speech which the latter made in 
 favor of pledging the delegation to vote for the renomina- 
 tion of Judge Wolf, who by his rigid interpretation of the 
 law and his unaccommodating spirit, had given offence to 
 the " boys." When, after much discussion and exchange 
 of acrimonious repartees, a ballot was taken, there proved 
 to be a majority of fourteen in favor of the proposition. 
 Pandemonium now broke loose ; everybody seemed bent 
 upon speaking, while no one cared to listen. In the 
 midst of this confusion, Aleck made his way to Professor 
 Wharton, and induced him to nominate his brother Hor- 
 ace as the head of the delegation ; for his name, everyone 
 would admit, would be a guarantee of good faith. But no 
 sooner had the Professor revealed his purpose, than Hor- 
 ace rose, and, in a few conventional phrases, thanked for 
 the honor and declined it. His business engagements, he 
 said, were of such a nature as to make it impossible for 
 him, at the present time, to accept any public trust. The 
 Professor sat down, a trifle disconcerted, and sent be- 
 wildered glances in the direction of Aleck, who, as he later 
 expressed it, had persuaded him to make a fool of himself. 
 Aleck, however, who in the intoxication of his triumph 
 had gloried in the opportunity to fulfil one of his 
 brother's secret wishes, was completely at a loss to account 
 for his refusal. The sense of power and the thirst for 
 beneficent activity which had animated him during the 
 entire evening, suddenly deserted him. There was some- 
 thing utterly disappointing, almost humiliating, to him in 
 the thought that Horace was unwilling to accept an 
 honor which he had been instrumental in bestowing. 
 That subterfuge about private business affairs he knew to 
 be an invention. 
 
 The discussion became interminable and aimless, and 
 interested Aleck no more. He saw plainly that it was 
 the chairman's intention to tire out the professors and 
 their sympathizers in the audience ; and that the depar- 
 ture of but a dozen of them would secure the triumph of 
 the rest of the slate. The professprs were vaguely con- 
 
5O THE MAMMON 
 
 scious of Mr. Dallas's intention, and for this reason stayed 
 until long after midnight ; but gradually hunger and bad 
 air oppressed their lungs and exhausted their patience, 
 and one by one they stole out and pegged up the hill-side. 
 When Mr. Dallas, who had a trusted lieutenant stationed 
 at that door, felt confident beyond peradventure that his 
 friends were in the majority, he cut discussion short; and 
 the result of the ballot this time showed that he had made 
 no miscalculation. His candidates got their required 
 majority. There was now nothing more to be done. 
 Aleck, seeing that he could not prevent the election of the 
 machine delegates, sauntered out and was soon followed 
 by his brother. Old Mr. Larkin, after having refused to 
 keep his nephew in order, had betaken himself home 
 early in the evening. He held Aleck's performances to 
 be as futile as the somersaults of a wooden monkey over a 
 stick, but he liked, for all that, to have him show pluck 
 and readiness of resource. From an educational point 
 of view he approved of " the row," and was entertained 
 by it. 
 
 The two brothers walked along in silence, while the dry 
 leaves rustled under their feet. The air was damp, and 
 there was a close, mouldy smell of decaying vegetation. 
 Now and then an aimless gust of wind came careering 
 along and swept the leaves into a whirl, or chased them 
 along like a panic-stricken army. 
 
 " Horace," said Aleck, looking up at the waning moon, 
 " why did you refuse that nomination as delegate ?" 
 
 " For several reasons," answered Horace. 
 
 " Let's hear them." 
 
 " Well, first, because I shouldn't care to make Dallas and 
 his gang my enemies." 
 
 " Then you mean to enter political life under their 
 auspices ? " 
 
 " Theirs are the only auspices in this county, under 
 which political life can be entered." 
 
 " Then you really declined because you knew that the 
 nomination came from me ?" 
 
 "Well, if you insist upon it, I did." 
 
 Aleck glanced toward his brother's averted face, in the 
 twilight ; it looked calm, prudent, and determined. It 
 was the face of a man who was bound to succeed. He 
 felt a sharp pang of regret, of self-pity of disappoint- 
 ment he scarcely knew what. He dimly divined the 
 spiritual gulf between himself and Horace. The triumph 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. $1 
 
 in which he had exulted had been, after all, but a bonfire 
 of blazing illusions ; and now there was nothing but the 
 ashes left. If it be true that wisdom consists not so much 
 in knowledge gained as in illusions abandoned, his elder 
 brother started with a great advantage over him ; for he 
 was wise already ; he had no illusions to abandon. 
 
52 . THE MAMMON 
 
 CHAPTER- V. 
 
 A FOX AND A TRAP. 
 
 Aleck Larkin's political rebellion, the old man's neu- 
 trality, and Horace's shrewdness, were the chief topics of 
 conversation during the two weeks which preceded the 
 election. In the book-stores and corner groceries, which 
 were dedicated to the discussion of public events, there 
 were found not a few who admired the young man's pluck 
 in taking up arms against so formidable, widely ramified, 
 and completely organized a power as the Republican ma- 
 chine. But there were many more who laughed at his 
 presumption, and praised the foresight and self-restraint 
 of his brother, which before long would have their reward. 
 About the "railroad depot, where the leisured class of the 
 population sat on trunks and boxes, betting on anything 
 that turned up, from a dog-fight to a presidential election, 
 the latter view generally prevailed, and odds were offered, 
 but never taken, favoring Horace's prospects at the ex- 
 pense of those of his brother. 
 
 It was not the public disapproval, however, which 
 troubled Aleck, but he was bitterly disappointed at his 
 failure to accomplish what he had set out to do. After 
 the departure of the University contingent, the regular 
 machine slate had been elected ; and Judge Wolf, as the 
 solitary representative of respectability, would, he feared, 
 be more obnoxious to a convention constituted of office- 
 holders and their satellites. This latter fear, however, 
 turned out to be groundless ; for a strong influence in 
 favor of the Judge made itself manifest from other parts 
 of the county, and he carried the convention in spite of 
 the opposition of the machine influence. It was an open 
 secret, however, that the managers had determined to 
 knife him on election day because they resented his being 
 "crammed down their throats," and longed for a chance to 
 inspire the obnoxious reformers with respect for their 
 power. Aleck, in spite of his mortification, resolved to 
 accept the challenge and, if possible, elect his Judge. He 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 53 
 
 confided his plan to Horace, who laughed at him, called 
 him a visionary, but ended with giving him, under the 
 pledge of secrecy, valuable advice. If he had set his heart 
 on electing his judge, he said, there was but one way to 
 accomplish it, and that was not to say a word about it, 
 but, early on election day, organize a squad of his friends 
 upon whom he could rely, and send a couple of them to 
 each polling place in the county. While these watched 
 the polls, others should be sent about with buggies to 
 hunt up out-of-the-way voters, and on the road persuade 
 them to vote for the Judge. 
 
 Election day dawned still and smoky, full of sad autum- 
 nal feeling, over the Torryville valley. There was a smell 
 of burning in the air. Elms and maples, half denuded of 
 their foliage, stretched their ragged branches against the 
 sky ; and now and then noiselessly dropped a leaf which 
 went gyrating downward, and softly alighted among the 
 rustling heap which covered the roads and filled the gut- 
 ters. The silence in the streets had no swelling undertone 
 of chirruping locusts and bird-song ; it seemed dead and 
 heavy ; only interrupted at times by the falling of a chest- 
 nut-bur which burst open, revealing the richly brown 
 fruit within, or the crackling of dry branches as an early 
 voter came shuffling along, inspecting the tickets which he 
 had received by mail the night before. Among the very 
 earliest to exercise their civic rights, when the sun had 
 shown his dim and sleepy countenance above the eastern 
 hills, were Aleck and his fellow-conspirators, Hawk and 
 Ramsdale. The latter, though they were, for obvious rea- 
 sons, not fond of each other, professed a warm friendship 
 for Aleck, and were quite ready to work for the same end 
 where his interests were at stake. They were met on the 
 sidewalk outside the shabby cigar store, upon the counter 
 of which the seven ballot-boxes were placed, by half a 
 dozen electioneering agents who buttonholed them, and 
 tried to pull them aside to urge upon them the claims of 
 different candidates. They were not noisy and argumenta- 
 tive, but mysteriously confidential ; hinting in an undertone 
 at deals and all sorts of nefarious things committed by the 
 opposing party. There was also a middle-aged woman in ' 
 Bloomer costume, covered from the shoulders to the knees 
 by two huge placards on which was printed, in mammoth 
 letters : 
 
 No LICENSE ! VOTE THE 
 PROHIBITION TICKET ! 
 
54 THE MAMMON 
 
 She elbowed her way boldly through the crowd of elec- 
 tioneering agents, and presented the three young men 
 with a set of tickets and handbills, bearing the legends : "A 
 Vote for License is a Vote for Hell ! " and " Vote for Christ 
 and no Rum !" 
 
 " Now, Mr. Larkin, you want to be on the right side in 
 this election," she began, seizing both Aleck's hands and 
 staring straight into his face. 
 
 " I am already on the right side, Mrs. French," he an- 
 swered, laughing ; "you will excuse me, until some other 
 time ; then I'll be happy f to discuss the matter with you." 
 
 She began, in a sermonizing tone, what was evidently a 
 set speech in favor of prohibition ; and held him at the 
 same time so tightly by the hands that he found it difficult 
 to tear himself away. 
 
 "Another time, Mrs. French, another time," he cried, 
 in laughing vexation, as he escaped into the store. 
 
 " Another time, you rogue, I shan't want to waste my 
 words upon you," she answered, shaking her clenched fist 
 after him. 
 
 He had already prepared his ballots the night before, 
 and lost no time in depositing them. Among the inspec- 
 tors of election who sat behind the counter and checked 
 off the names in their poll-books, there was apparently one 
 who could not read writing, and another who, if he could 
 write, was unwilling to display his accomplishment. But 
 Mr. Graves, the bilious-looking tanner, who was also 
 seated at the table in an official capacity, was kindly assist- 
 ing them, and was every moment having his pen over in 
 their books. He nodded with a malicious smile to Aleck, 
 as his name was called, and licking an unlighted cigar, one 
 end of which he had been chewing, observed pleasantly : 
 "Good Republican weather, Mr. Larkin! A heavy vote 
 means a Republican victory." 
 
 " Shouldn't wonder, Mr. Graves. I suppose you con- 
 clude from that, that Providence is on your side." 
 
 " If I did not believe that He was on our side, sir, " 
 Graves responded, with great earnestness, " I'd be d d if 
 I'd ever cast another ballot in my life." 
 
 Aleck had, in accordance with his brother's advice, 
 organized his plot with great secrecy. He had made 
 arrangements with about twenty of his friends, several of 
 whom were students in the University, that they were to 
 take early trains to the other towns and villages in the 
 county, hire buggies (which had already been telegraphed 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 55 
 
 for in advance) at his expense, and spend the entire day, 
 laboring by all legitimate means for Judge Wolfs election. 
 He had reserved Torryville for himself, as he knew that 
 the influence of his name would be more potent there than 
 elsewhere. He had just separated from his friends and 
 given them the last instructions, when he espied his broth- 
 er's close-buttoned figure approaching from the upper end 
 of the street. Horace was walking along with a deliberate 
 step, gazing straight down before him, as his habit was 
 when he was absorbed in thought. It struck Aleck again 
 what a solid, weighty, and definite personality his brother 
 was. He never looked aimlessly about him, like most men, 
 but had his eyes as his thoughts clearly fixed upon some 
 exact object. Though he admired him greatly, he never 
 could get quite near him ; he could not deny that he was 
 a little bit afraid of his pitiless logic and cold worldly 
 sense. 
 
 " Hallo," said Horace, taking his cigar out of his mouth; 
 "why did you run away from your breakfast ?" 
 
 " Oh, I forgot ! " 
 
 " Forgot to eat breakfast ! I had no idea you were so 
 unscrupulous." 
 
 "Unscrupulous ?" 
 
 " Yes, unscrupulous. A man who, in order to accomplish 
 his designs, gets up at five o'clock in the morning, forget- 
 ting even to pay the flesh its due, is unscrupulous." 
 
 He looked so serious that Aleck, for a moment, was in 
 doubt whether he was joking or in earnest. " But I acted 
 on your advice, Horace," he said, with an uncertain smile. 
 
 " I did not advise you," responded his brother, imper- 
 turbably ; " I did not pronounce upon the morality of your 
 undertaking. I merely said that if you wished to elect 
 your man, you would have to employ the very methods 
 which you condemned in others. I wished to catch you 
 in inconsistency, in order to give you an illustration of the 
 impracticability of your high moral standards applied to 
 politics, or in fact, to anything." 
 
 " Then you mean to say that you intentionally laid a trap 
 for me ? " 
 
 "Yes, if you like you may call it that. I did it, because 
 I have your welfare at heart, and wish to teach you the 
 road to success, while you are yet young enough to profit 
 by the lesson." 
 
 A strange strident sound, like the grating of an iron 
 gate, came from the sky above them ; on looking up, they 
 
56 THE MAMMON 
 
 saw a flock of wild geese following in horseshoe-shaped 
 flight their leader, who, with his long neck outstretched, 
 was guiding their way to a sunnier clime. A silence fell 
 upon the two brothers, while they stood watching the 
 winged troop, as it vanished in the smoky air beyond the 
 towers of the University buildings. 
 
 "What a happy time they have of it," said Aleck, " to be 
 flying so high above all moral perplexities." 
 
 " In that respect you resemble them," answered Horace ; 
 "it is just that which I object to in you, that you are a 
 high-flier whose actions have no root in facts, but in fond 
 imaginings." 
 
 There was a real distress in the younger brother's face, 
 as he listened to this unfeeling criticism. "What have I 
 done, Horace, that displeases you so?" he asked, with 
 touching simplicity. 
 
 " Displeases me ! You make me sick with your slipshod 
 habits of thought. I have not said a word about my own 
 displeasure. I have merely said that, as a political re- 
 former, you have adopted the very methods of the organi- 
 zation you have set out to reform." 
 
 "Why, I have distinctly said to all my friends that they 
 are only to influence the voters by honest persuasion 
 
 "And free buggy rides." 
 
 " I have told them to refrain from all abuse and slan- 
 der " 
 
 "But you have yourself employed intimidation." 
 
 "Intimidation !" 
 
 "Have you not called upon the family butcher and 
 baker and candlestick maker, and told them why you in- 
 tend to vote for Wolf ? " 
 
 " Well, what wrong is there in that ? " 
 
 " Though you have not said it, you have led them to 
 suppose that the influence of our family, which, you know, 
 counts for a great deal in the town, is thrown on the side 
 of your candidate, and that the loss of our patronage may 
 result from voting against him. That is what I call in- 
 timidation." 
 
 " Why, Horace, I assure you " 
 
 " My dear boy, don't defend yourself. I am not blam- 
 ing you. I am merely holding up a looking-glass to you. 
 A truthful looking-glass is often the severest of censors. 
 Good-morning." 
 
 He struck a match on the sole of his boot and lighted 
 his cigar, which had gone out during the discussion. 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 57 
 
 " By the way," he said, between the puffs of smoke, 
 "you have done some very valuable work for the ma- 
 chine." 
 
 " For the machine ?" 
 
 " Yes. I shouldn't wonder if by your work for Wolf you 
 have saved the whole ticket. And, between ourselves, I 
 quite agree with you that it is bad." 
 
 He nodded, with a gleam of amusement in his eyes, to 
 the unhappy reformer, and strolled toward the polls, strik- 
 ing his heels against the wooden sidewalk. Aleck, half 
 stupefied by this parting shot, stood gazing after him with 
 a look of bewilderment and distress. 
 
 "I have made a fool of myself," he muttered ; and, in a 
 mood of bitter disillusion, sauntered homeward. 
 
58 THE MAMMON 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 A QUEER FATHER CONFESSOR. 
 
 The Reverend Arthur Robbins, estimable though he 
 was, and anxious to be of help, was not the kind of man 
 to whom you would naturally resort in hours of tribula- 
 tion. He could be, at times, mildly pastoral ; but he was 
 never priestly. When, for all that, Alexander Larkin, 
 after a day spent in keen misery, betook himself in the 
 evening to the Congregational parsonage, it was chiefly 
 because he felt an acute need of sympathy, and Mr. Rob- 
 bins was equally agreeable as a talker and a listener. He 
 was always delighted to see you, made you feel as if you 
 conferred an honor upon him by calling, expended his 
 best cigars upon you, and, as long as you were not in ob- 
 vious conflict with the ten commandments, approved of 
 everything you said and did. He could even, when the 
 humor took him, tell mildly improper anecdotes in a 
 hushed voice and with a delicious sense of their wicked- 
 ness, while he glanced half anxiously toward the door 
 which separated his study from the virginal bower of his 
 daughters. There was the story of the clergyman who, at 
 a bachelor's funeral, prayed for the sorrowing children, 
 and half a dozen others in the same strain. Clergymen 
 and deacons were invariably their heroes. 
 
 It was this kind of gently soothing entertainment which 
 Aleck needed to heal the bruises which his brother's piti- 
 less words had inflicted. He had spent the morning, since 
 his return from the polls, in his room, torturing himself 
 with doubts and self-examination. He had been making 
 a journey of exploration into the untrodden regions of his 
 heart, and he had come back filled with distress at the 
 things he had seen. Now, without directly making a con^ 
 fidant of Mr. Robbins, he wished to be made to feel that 
 his humiliating conclusions regarding himself were all 
 wrong, that he was in reality a good and estimable fellow. 
 
 The clergyman had hastily divested himself of his dress- 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. $9 
 
 ing-gown and was adjusting the collar of his coat, when 
 his visitor was ushered into his study. 
 
 " Ah, my dear Mr. Larkin, I am delighted to see you," 
 he said, extending a soft, warm hand to Aleck ; " pray sit 
 down here, this chair is more comfortable and what 
 kind of a cigar can I offer you? Mild, middling, or 
 strong ? Here, take your choice. If you'll allow me to 
 advise you, I would recommend these Almansors ; they 
 have the real flavor that rejoices the soul." 
 
 It was Mr. Robbins's habit, when he liked a man, to take 
 him, as it were, by storm to overwhelm him with cordial- 
 ity ; while he possessed in the same degree the faculty of 
 chilling those whom he disliked to the marrow of their 
 bones. As a clergyman in a small country town, he could, 
 of course, not have indulged the latter luxury, if he had 
 been pecuniarily dependent upon his congregation. But 
 the fact was, Mr. Robbins had, in his callow days, married 
 a rich but preternaturally homely wife, who, after having 
 presented him with five daughters, four of whom had in- 
 herited her lack of chin, betook herself to that realm where 
 a lack of chin is not incompatible with happiness. But 
 during her earthly career an excess of nose and the 
 above-named deficiency made her life a martyrdom. She 
 had hungered for her husband's admiration w r ith a hope- 
 less and unwearied passion. She knew that, however 
 much he endeavored to conceal it, he disliked the sight 
 of her. He was something of an epicurean, with aesthetic 
 tastes and inclined to luxurious habits. The very instinct 
 which had prompted him to woo her prevented him from 
 loving her. The birth in rapid succession of four daugh- 
 ters, whom according to their profiles you would have 
 classed in the order of Rodents, was accepted by their 
 father as a chastening discipline, or a reminder from Prov- 
 idence that the unworthy motive of his marriage was yet 
 unforgiven. But when No. 5 came and developed a clean- 
 cut, well-proportioned countenance, he freely forgave her 
 her sex and took her to his heart. Though his suspected 
 difference with Heaven had never greatly troubled him, 
 the reconciliation expressed in this child's fair features 
 seemed a great and momentous event, worthy of a special 
 celebration. After having pondered various ways of 
 worthily commemorating it, Mr. Robbins sent to New 
 York for a case of fine old Madeira and a dozen boxes of 
 Almansor cigars. He kept these treasures strictly for him- 
 self, knowing that there were neither palates nor nostrils 
 
60 THE MAMMON 
 
 in Torryville capable of appreciating them. He made an 
 exception of Aleck, first because he liked him, secondly 
 because he cherished a secret ambition to make him his 
 son-in-law, and thirdly because his face and his talk showed 
 him to be a man of fine senses. 
 
 The conspicuous way in which Mr. Robbins favored his 
 handsome daughter at the expense of the unattractive ones 
 occasioned a good deal of comment in his congregation, 
 and more than one sister had attempted to give him a re- 
 
 , alizing sense of the disapproval with which his unfatherly 
 conduct was regarded. But here the advantage of a bank 
 
 ! account became manifest. With the moral support which 
 it gave him, Mr. Robbins became obtuse of comprehension 
 and freezingly and uncomfortably polite ; and his moni- 
 tresses became ill at ease, and wished themselves on the 
 other side of the door. If there were mutterings of dis- 
 content in his church (as sometimes there were), he pursued 
 the even tenor of his way and refused to be annoyed. If 
 he had been a poor man, he would, of course, have been 
 remonstrated with, and perhaps requested to resign. But 
 a pastor who himself subscribed to the raising of the 
 church debt could not be treated in that off-hand way ; and 
 everything considered, he was a good and fairly eloquent 
 man, not quite sound on eternal punishment, perhaps, but 
 otherwise highly acceptable. His sermons had also at 
 times shown a dangerous laxity in other doctrines, and 
 for months he seemed to be drifting, Sunday by Sunday, 
 ever further toward all sorts of modern heresies and " lib- 
 eral" interpretations. But just as he seemed to be on the 
 point of taking the fatal plunge, he would pull up suddenly, 
 as you stop a run-away horse, and return the next Sunday 
 to the bluest and fiercest Calvinism. The flames of the 
 pit fairly blazed with their sulphurous fumes through those 
 discourses, and "the old people" were comforted. As a 
 matter of fact it was mere fright at the results toward 
 which he was drifting which led Mr. Robbins to call a halt 
 in that energetic fashion. But when his fear was over, he 
 began again to drift, preached about seven geological pe- 
 riods, which were evidently what was meant by the seven 
 days of creation, and involved himself in all sorts of fu- 
 tile ingenuities to prove that the Bible had anticipated all 
 the discoveries of science. Since his wife's death, nine 
 years ago, he was more frequently subject to these attacks 
 of liberalism, possibly because, her sinister presence being 
 removed from his life, he acquired a greater faith in the 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 6 1 
 
 general benevolence of Providence. On the whole, he 
 felt himself on good terms with the Ruler of the Universe, 
 being confident that he was rather a meritorious creature, 
 and unquestionably, in morality and intelligence, above the 
 average of his kind. Even his four " Rodents " were not 
 the affliction they once had been ; and he was able, with- 
 out much effort, to treat them with kindness. They ap- 
 parently accepted their fate with stoicism, as being in the 
 inscrutable nature of things, regarded their father with 
 shy respect out of their bead-like eyes, and gave him at 
 times an uneasy feeling that all sorts of curious things 
 might be going on inside of those heads, of which he had 
 not the faintest conception. The alertness of their black 
 eyes, which nothing escaped, their queer mute communi- 
 cations, as they sat with him at the table, and their mys- 
 terious, suppressed titters when nothing had occurred that 
 seemed to anyone else ridiculous, strengthened in him the 
 impression of their alienism as if they were mere so- 
 journers in his house rather than his children. 
 
 Alexander Larkin, being a frequent visitor at the par- 
 sonage, had been acquainted with the peculiar relations 
 of the household from his boyhood. He was what the Ger- 
 mans call a " house-friend," with a definite place in each 
 one's estimation. He marvelled at nothing and needed no 
 explanations ; and half of the charm of his society con- 
 sisted, in his host's eyes, in this easy and natural familiar- 
 ity. If Mr. Robbins, in his heart, hoped that he came to 
 see Arabella, he was not on that account less inclined to 
 claim his full share of his attention. Arabella's preference 
 for the elder brother her father professed to regard as a 
 caprice which he was at a loss to understand. He had, 
 indeed, the highest respect for Horace's ability, but he was 
 a trifle afraid of him, and could not persuade himself to 
 like him. 
 
 " Pardon me, parson," Alexander was saying, as he set- 
 tled back luxuriously in his easy-chair, " but are not these 
 cigars of yours rather unclerical ? " 
 
 "You mean to say," his host replied, "that a clergyman 
 should smoke to mortify the flesh ? " 
 
 " Oh, I don't profess to have any opinion as to what a 
 clergyman should do and not do," rejoined the young man ; 
 " and, anyway, the time is past when heretics were 
 smoked." 
 
 " Yes ; now they smoke instead of being smoked. But 
 I hope you don't mean to say that I a*n a heretic ? " 
 
62 THE MAMMON 
 
 " No ; I am aware that this is one of your orthodox 
 weeks." 
 
 "Hush, my dear boy, what are you saying there?" 
 ejaculated Robbins, with hushed anxiety. 
 
 " Oh, I am not going to take you to task. I like your 
 heretical sermons better than the orthodox ones." 
 
 Robbins laughed gently to himself as, with keen enjoy- 
 ment, he blew the cigar smoke toward the great lamp on 
 the table. 
 
 " You are a sly dog," he said, " but I'll admit there is a 
 grain of truth in your insinuation. The fact is, the old 
 people in the church get alarmed occasionally at my ad- 
 vanced views, and I am obliged, now and then, to set them 
 at rest in regard to my orthodoxy." 
 
 Aleck had no desire to press the subject further, as he 
 saw awkward possibilities in it. 
 
 " Mr. Robbins," he began, after a pause, " I came here 
 to ask you a favor." 
 
 " My dear boy, I shall be delighted if I can be of service 
 to you." 
 
 " I want you to bolster up my self-esteem. I am in an 
 uncomfortably humble mood." 
 
 " What has happened ? " 
 
 " I have made a fool of myself, that's all." 
 
 "How so?" 
 
 Aleck told him the story of his efforts to re-elect Judge 
 Wolf, and of his brother's discouraging comments. 
 
 " I can't see but that you have been doing exactly 
 right," said Mr. Robbins, when he had finished; "you 
 have tried to save a worthy and upright man from being 
 punished for his uprightness, and whether you succeed or 
 not, you deserve credit for having made the effort. When 
 we have done our best, we can only leave the result to 
 Providence." 
 
 " Ah, no, Mr. Robbins ! Who ever leaves anything of 
 that kind to Providence without himself getting left ? 
 Providence is, in politics, on the side of the cleverest 
 schemer, or, as Napoleon said, 'on the side of the heaviest 
 battalions.' " 
 
 " The triumph of the wicked is in itself a punishment," 
 said the pastor, with professional didacticism. 
 
 " Then I shouldn't mind being punished in that way, 
 Mr. Robbins. I am hungering for success of some kind. 
 I have no talent for obscurity. You have preached right- 
 eousness to me so long that I am beginning to rebel a little 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 63 
 
 against the limitations which it imposes. Was it not 
 Christ himself who told us to make friends with the Mam- 
 mon of Unrighteousness ?" 
 
 There was a sudden vibrating cry of the soul in these 
 recklessly uttered words, which did not fail to impress the 
 clergyman. He put away his cigar, leaned forward, and 
 looked sympathetically at his young friend. 
 
 " Alexander," he said, " I did not know until now that 
 you were in earnest." 
 
 "I scarcely knew it myself, Mr. Robbins, but the fact is, 
 I am a little bit heart-broken. I feel wounded and hum- 
 bled down in the very depths. I have tried to live con- 
 sistently in accordance with .my conviction and I only 
 succeed in getting hopelessly muddled and accomplishing 
 nothing. And when I feel sore at my own inconsistency 
 and incapacity, then Horace comes and tells me, in cut- 
 ting sarcasms, what I have dreaded but not dared to say to 
 myself. And that breaks me all up, and makes me miser- 
 able." 
 
 The note of keen youthful distress, with its unconscious 
 emotional luxury, appealed to the pastor's tenderness ; 
 and yet it made him, for a moment, almost envious. There 
 was a time when he, too, had felt like that oh, so long, 
 long ago. He threw a glance into the mirror at his iron- 
 gray hair, and sighed. What a finely attuned instrument 
 a human soul must be, to be quivering with aspirations 
 like these ! He hungered for success he had no talent 
 for obscurity. The pastor smiled. He remembered the 
 days when he, too, had been troubled with a similar re- 
 pugnance. But as the straight and narrow path to emi- 
 nence had appeared too laborious, he had striven to reach 
 it by the short cut of a wealthy marriage. And like most 
 short cuts to glory, it had led in quite an unexpected di- 
 rection. He was so fond of this young man that he would, 
 like, if he could, to save him from similar errors. 
 
 " If my power to help you were as great as my desire,' 1 
 he said, " I should surely not send you away uncomforted. 
 But it seems to be a fact that a certain amount of bung- 
 ling, and fumbling, and blundering is not only necessary 
 in youth, but, within certain limits, an absolute boon. A 
 correct young man is either a prig or a fool. A youth 
 who, in the generous tumult of his blood, commits errors 
 and repents of them, is to me a more sympathetic creat- 
 ure. He has growth in him, while the former has not. 
 No one is born in the light. Only through twilight can 
 
64 THE MAMMON 1 
 
 we grope our way to clearness. Only through doubt can 
 we gain certainty. Only through combat can we grow 
 strong. The light, as far as each individual is concerned, 
 can never be a free gift from on high ; it has to be fought 
 for and prayed for. A certainty that has never known 
 doubt is worthless, like a fortress that has never been ex- 
 posed to hostile assault. Strength that is not the result of 
 struggle is not strength, but pretentious weakness. It is 
 inevitable that you should fight your battles now and make 
 humiliating experiences, if your manhood is to carry out 
 the promise of your youth ; and even if your plans mis- 
 carry, they will nevertheless yield you a profit in practical 
 knowledge of life." 
 
 " Ah, but, my dear Mr. Robbins," Aleck exclaimed, pas- 
 sionately, "it is just here where my trouble lies. The les- 
 son that these experiences teach me is the very opposite of 
 what you have taught me. It is that, in order to succeed, 
 you must surrender your convictions, prove unfaithful to 
 your ideals, and apply a code of morality on Monday 
 quite different from the one which you profess on Sunday. 
 Now, where the issue is clear where you have to choose 
 what would you do ? Give up success or surrender 
 your convictions ?" 
 
 " But I cannot admit that such a choice is necessary, 
 except in very rare cases ; and then you cannot doubt 
 what my advice would be." 
 
 "If you'll pardon me, that shows that your own experi- 
 ence is limited. You look down from this peaceful study 
 upon the slender stream of life that flows past you. And 
 you judge by that. That's where clergymen, in my opin- 
 ion, are at a disadvantage. They have to pilot men 
 through waters with which they are but imperfectly ac- 
 quainted. They know whither they are bound, but they 
 have no reliable chart to steer by. They have a light at 
 the masthead which throws more of its illumination back- 
 ward than forward, and flashes only faint gleams down 
 upon the unexplored waters about the bow." 
 
 It had grown late, while the pastor and his friend had 
 been discussing these serious problems, and Aleck was 
 interrupted in his indictment of the clergy by the entrance 
 of a chambermaid, who placed a bundle of letters and 
 newspapers upon the table. About the same time the 
 door-bell was heard to ring ; the maid vanished, and on 
 returning, announced Mr. Horace Larkin. Mr. Robbins, 
 though he was not agreeably surprised, forced his features 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 65 
 
 into a conventional smile, and pressed Horace's hand with 
 proper cordiality. 
 
 "I am very happy to see you, Mr. Larkin," he said; 
 "will you, please, be seated." 
 
 " I really came to see my brother, Mr. Robbins," Horace 
 replied, without polite circumlocutions ; " I was told he 
 was here. I was so rough with him this morning, that it is 
 only fair that I should be the first to tell him that his man 
 is elected, without doubt. All the returns are not in yet, 
 but, though he has been largely scratched, he is yet in a 
 fair way to run ahead of his ticket." 
 
 , " There," cried the parson, delightedly; "didn't I say 
 it? Righteousness has triumphed." 
 
 " No," retorted Aleck, dismally, " scheming intimidation 
 and free buggy rides have triumphed. Horace is the 
 triumpher, not I." 
 
 "Well, whoever it be, I mean to celebrate his victory," 
 said Robbins, pulling a bunch of keys out of Jiis pocket ; 
 "1 have some old Madeira of '58 which is good for the 
 blues. For you know, it is not right to pour new wine 
 into old vessels like you and me, Mr. Larkin," he went 
 on, addressing Horace. " You know what Scripture 
 says ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes," the latter responded, promptly. " It is not 
 meet to put new wine in old bottles, lest lest they turn 
 and rend you." 
 
 The pastor laughed a hushed and guilty laugh, but 
 looked in the next moment at his visitors with a mildly 
 reproving air in which there yet lingered a spark of amuse- 
 ment. He opened a small, richly-carved cabinet of teak- 
 wood which hung on the wall above the low book-cases 
 and brought out three dainty wine-glasses and a yellovv- 
 sealed bottle, the dust on which was carefully preserved. 
 While he pulled the cork, he told the old joke about the 
 twenty Episcopal clergymen who at a social gathering got 
 into a dispute about a passage in Scripture ; but not one 
 of them had a New Testament or prayer book at hand, 
 whereby to verify the text. When, however, there hap- 
 pened to be a call for a corkscrew, everyone of the twenty 
 plunged into his pocket, and hauled out the required 
 article. 
 
 " You wouldn't do for a candidate on the prohibition 
 ticket, parson," said Horace, as he gulped down, without 
 visible emotion, the precious liquid. 
 
 Mr. Robbins fairly winced at s,uch barbarism, and 
 
66 THE MAMMON 
 
 thought: "Another time I shall not throw pearls before 
 swine." 
 
 " No, Mr. Larkin," he said, aloud ; " I approve of good 
 wine and disapprove of bad wine." 
 
 "Isn't that rather a pagan creed for a clergyman?" 
 Horace inquired, in a spirit of pleasantry. 
 
 The remark grated a little on the pastor, but he re- 
 pressed his irritation and answered, soberly : 
 
 " Life must have a certain gloss, to me, or it is not 
 worth having. You cannot set up the same standard for 
 all men. Frowsy evangelical poverty would never do for 
 me ; I should sink under it into hopelessness and lethargy. 
 I should lose my usefulness ; because I should lose my 
 self-respect." 
 
 Happily Horace was relieved from the necessity of an- 
 swering by the opening of a door and the appearance of a 
 piquant blonde head between the folds of its heavy maroon 
 curtains. 
 
 " What a horrid lot you are ! " said the blonde head, 
 with a pretty pout, as it nodded to each of the visitors ; 
 " here you are sitting laughing and having a good time, 
 while I am perishing with loneliness." 
 
 " Come in, dear, come in, if you can stand the cigar- 
 smoke," said Mr. Robbins, holding out his arms to his fa- 
 vorite daughter. He had, perhaps, a suspicion as to whose 
 voice it was which had made her solitude unendurable ; 
 but, indulgent as he was, he could not find it in his heart 
 to deny her any pleasure. 
 
 " Oh, I don't mind the smoke," ejaculated the girl, 
 tripping lightly over the carpet and seating herself on a 
 footstool at her father's elbow. 
 
 "Have you been confessing to papa, Mr. Larkin ?" she 
 said, with transparent deceit, lifting her languishing face 
 toward Horace, for she knew well enough that he had just 
 arrived. 
 
 "No, he has been confessing to me," he replied, "that 
 pagan luxury agrees better with him than evangelical pov- 
 erty." 
 
 " Has he confessed that? Why, you have succeeded in 
 getting into his confidence better than I ever did. I have 
 always been accusing him of that very thing, but I could 
 never make him own up." 
 
 " That is because he was afraid you would make him 
 pay too heavy a penance in bonnets and things," answered 
 Horace. 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 6? 
 
 "Bonnets and things! Aren't you horrid? You evi- 
 dently think girls have no thoughts beyond bonnets and 
 things ! " 
 
 " Perhaps not. But then you know things may embrace 
 anything you like. It may include flirtations, matrimony, 
 novels, and moral philosophy. Or what do you think, Mr. 
 Robbins ? Are you in favor of the higher education of 
 women with Greek and astronomy and German philos- 
 ophy? Do you like the soaring kind or or " 
 
 "Why don't you say the boring kind ?" 
 
 "All right," interposed Arabella, "the boring kind, if 
 you like ?" 
 
 "Oh, I am an old-fashioned sort of man," Mr. Robbins 
 rejoined, listlessly ; " I don't believe in going too far in any- 
 thing. But if education could be so arranged as to give 
 more elevation to the thoughts of women something 
 beyond flounces and trivialities " 
 
 " Why, papa, what are you saying ? " his daughter 
 interrupted ; " Don't you see, you are on my side against 
 Mr. Larkin " 
 
 " Oh, am I ? All right then I believe I believe in 
 whatever my daughter believes in whatever that is." 
 
 " Now that is worse still. Do you know, gentlemen, if I 
 was clever enough what I would do ? I have thought of it 
 many times, but never, somehow, had the courage to com- 
 mence it. I have thought of writing a play, giving the 
 woman's side of these questions that everybody is writing 
 about nowadays. I mean to introduce a young married 
 couple who love each other dearly " 
 
 " Oh, that would never do. It would be too sensational," 
 said Horace. 
 
 "Now, Mr. Larkin, I wish you would just behave," 
 protested Arabella, in a staccato whimper, in which there 
 was more coquetry than remonstrance. The spoiled child 
 was visible in all her attitudes, and audible in her inflec- 
 tions, which began with a little jerk like an appoggiatura in 
 music. 
 
 " Well, let us suppose, for the sake of argument, that 
 they did We each other dearly," laughed Horace. " What 
 else did they do ?" 
 
 "Nothing." 
 
 " Why, they must have had some other occupation, 
 surely, besides loving." 
 
 "No, they didn't." 
 
 She was now really half offended; and without looking 
 
68 THE MAMMON 
 
 up, sat playing with her father's fingers which rested upon 
 tlie arm" of the leather-covered easy chair. 
 
 "Then they couldn't have made much of a living," 
 Horace observed, dryly; "for loving, unless you love an 
 heiress, has never been held to be profitable." 
 
 " Look here, sir,'' cried the girl, a smile breaking through 
 her vexation ; " I'm not going to waste my ideas on you 
 any more. I'm going to speak to your brother. He's 
 much more agreeable." 
 
 She arose from her footstool, flounced across the floor, 
 and with ostentatious friendliness seated herself in a chair 
 which she drew close up to Aleck's side. 
 
 "Now, my dear Mr. Aleck," she began, dramatically, 
 glancing toward Horace to observe the effect of her 
 manoeuvre, "don't you think your brother is just a little 
 bit horrid?" 
 
 " Quite a good bit, I should say," replied Aleck, with a 
 faint smile. 
 
 " You bet your boots on that," the subject of their 
 criticism interposed, laughing ; " when a girl says that a 
 man is horrid, she means to compliment him. I consider 
 that I have points about me that money can't buy." 
 
 " What a happy man you must be to be so well aware of 
 your advantages ! " exclaimed Bella, addressing, in spite of 
 her resolution, all her remarks to Horace. 
 
 " Well, I can't complain ; though I should be happier if 
 I were President of the United States." 
 
 "You are not one of those who would rather be right 
 than be President," observed Mr. Robbins. 
 
 " Scarcely. It is a very pleasant thing to be right ; but 
 it is, in my opinion, still pleasanter to be President." 
 
 " There I don't agree with you," said Aleck, gazing 
 solemnly through his cigar smoke. 
 
 " You are not an expert, Aleck," his brother replied ; 
 " you have never tried either." 
 
 The retort was meant for pleasantry, of course, but there 
 was that lack of tact and fine feeling in it which often 
 wounds without intention. The opportunity was ill-chosen 
 for that kind of banter, when Aleck was sore with disap- 
 pointment and bent down with troubles which Horace's 
 coarser nature was incapable of comprehending. 
 
 " Have another cigar, gentlemen ?" said Mr. Robbins, 
 passing across the table a fragrant box, from the cover of 
 which a Cuban sefiorita with beau-catchers was archly 
 smiling. 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 69 
 
 " No, thanks," they both answered, and rose to take their 
 
 leave. 
 
 "Why, don't be in a hurry," the pastor remonstrated, 
 feebly ; " I didn't mean to drive you away." 
 
 " You don't. We flee voluntarily from the world, the 
 flesh, and the parson. Good-night." 
 
7O THE MAMMON" 
 
 CHAPTER VIL 
 
 TOWN TALK. 
 
 In a small town, where nothing of any consequence ever 
 happens, talk becomes a power, and in a certain way takes 
 the place of events. What people say appears so very im- 
 portant because, outside of their routine of business and 
 domestic tasks, they do nothing. If an eccentric man, to 
 relieve the monotony of life, thrashes his wife, he becomes 
 something of a hero ; and suns himself in the light of pub- 
 licity. Though his act is not commended, it is so hungrily, 
 so exhaustively, discussed, that he may be excused if his 
 vanity mistakes notoriety for fame and objects to a relapse 
 into the obscurity of commonplace behavior. Nor does 
 he lack apologists who, in the corner groceries, declare the 
 rod to be the proper exponent of domestic authority, and 
 quote Scripture to sustain their position. The other bad 
 characters in the town have in a confused way the same 
 reckless pride in furnishing food for discussion. The town 
 drunkards, who as a rule have large families, claim the ad- 
 ditional merit of keeping the charitable impulses of the 
 people in activity. 
 
 The fact was, the possibilities of doing anything, without 
 transgressing, were limited in Torryville. Once in a while, 
 when a second-rate show arrived, all that part of the popu- 
 lation which had fifty cents to spare and no religious 
 scruples flocked to Tappan's Opera House, and watched 
 the primitive performance with stolid attention. But re- 
 ligious scruples were quite prevalent, and the profits of 
 the shows were never very encouraging. Lecturers and 
 elocutionists usually rejoiced in a better reception ; and 
 spiritualistic mediums often stayed for weeks, gave seances 
 in private houses and reaped a golden harvest. Several 
 professors in the university were known to be interested 
 in spiritualism, professing to investigate the phenomena in 
 a purely scientific spirit. But their claim to scientific im- 
 partiality was vitiated by the zeal of propagandism which 
 they displayed, and their readiness to be deceived by the 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. Jl 
 
 most transparent frauds. It was particularly Professor 
 Wharton who discredited himself with sober-minded people 
 by championing the cases of every medium whose tricks 
 had been exposed. One or more of these persecuted saints 
 was usually entertained at his house, and invitations to 
 seances were issued in his name, at a charge of fifty cents, 
 to those who were supposed to be " open to conviction." 
 For want of other amusement he was said to spend long 
 nights with mediums, in edifying converse with Indian, nau- 
 tical, and other illiterate ghosts, who slapped and caressed 
 him and took all sorts of liberties with his dignity. Oc- 
 casionally he quarrelled with his mediums and dispatched 
 them to the railroad depot at short notice ; not because he 
 saw through their frauds, but because, encouraged by his 
 forbearance, they would shock him, in their mundane 
 capacity, by a too great familiarity or freedom of man- 
 ners. 
 
 It was early in December, about four weeks after the 
 election, that the younger members of the Larkin family 
 received invitations, at the usual price, to attend a seance 
 at Professor Wharton's house. The old man it would have 
 been of no use to invite, as he was known not to be open 
 to conviction. Horace and Alexander, too, were more 
 than sceptical, while Gertrude was restrained from betray- 
 ing her credulity by the fact that a kind of dingy disre- 
 putability was associated in her mind with the very name 
 of spiritualism. Dr. Hawk, who was a half-avowed be- 
 liever, had told her so many wonderful things which 
 he had seen, and which it was useless to try to account 
 for, that her prejudice was conquered and her curiosity 
 aroused. In the state of what might be called passionate 
 vacuity, in which, ever since her return from school, 
 she had found herself, anything that broke the monotony 
 of life seemed a godsend. Even Professor Ramsdale's 
 perpetual wooing, inconvenient though it was at times, 
 had a faint aroma of adventure about it which made it 
 '" better than nothing." A proposal, even if unacceptable, 
 was yet an event, and an event, in Torryville, of whatever 
 sort, was attended with some excitement, and as such not 
 to be discouraged. Her two years' sojourn at a fashion- 
 able school in New York had ill fitted her for the empty 
 monotony of existence in her home. She felt a deadly, 
 ennui which oppressed her like a positive burden. Her 
 father and her mother were equally uncongenial to her, and 
 her two cousins, though they were good enough in their 
 
72 THE MAMMON 
 
 way, troubled themselves very little about her. She was 
 unfortunately so constituted that she could do nothing 
 with moderation. When she took a fancy to read, she 
 shut herself up in her room from morning till night, had 
 her meals sent up to her, and devoured book after book 
 with hungry avidity. Then there came a reaction, during 
 which she hated books and could not bear to look at 
 one. At such times, she rode horseback with the same 
 immoderate vehemence which she had formerly expend- 
 ed on literature. And when that craze was over, a weary 
 lethargy followed, and the demon, called the Blues, 
 knocked at her door and became her constant companion. 
 In the midst of a luxurious life, which knew no ungratified 
 want, she seemed to herself the most miserable of beings. 
 Her education had given her a smattering of knowledge 
 in all directions, but it had given her no real interests. It 
 had taught her to bow and courtesy, but it had not taught 
 her to think ; it had drilled her in all the arts of deport- 
 ment how to enter and leave a room, how to grade her 
 greetings with admirable precision, all the way from cor- 
 j diality to a snub ; but it had furnished no intellectual 
 | contents to her life, which might give it purpose and dig- 
 nity. At times a passionate hunger for pleasure came over 
 her } and it seemed as if something cried out within her, 
 """"Tttrf^elling her to brush aside all restraints. But, on the 
 other hand, there was, in the depth of her soul, a respect 
 for the conventions which she thought she despised. Filial 
 affection and the ties of blood which keep so many turbu- 
 lent natures within bounds she scarcely knew, and of 
 parental guidance she had had none. Mr. Larkin was too 
 busy a man to occupy himself with her ; and, as we have 
 seen, he was of opinion that girls, if they were only let 
 alone, would be likely in the end to come out right ; and 
 Mrs. Larkin, although she inclined to the opposite belief, 
 was only repelled by Gertrude's passionate vacillation ; 
 and her constant fretting was vexatious rather than help- 
 ful. The only pronounced talent which the girl possessed 
 and which, with proper cultivation, might have become a 
 source of happiness, was discouraged by both, and became 
 thereby a source of deeper discontent. From her earliest 
 childhood she had 'had a taste for drawing ; and her eye 
 caught with unerring instinct the characteristic phase of 
 whatever attracted her attention. But this correct eye 
 invariably condemned what her untrained hand produced. 
 Her finest intentions her obstinate fingers refused to carry 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 73 
 
 out. She drew with a certain bold inaccuracy and dash 
 which were wholly unfeminine, but there was a taking 
 quality in these rough sketches and that indefinable charm 
 of touch that distinguishes the artist from the dilettante. 
 When the blues came upon her, like a shower that sudden- 
 ly sweeps across a clear sky, the first thing she destroyed 
 was always her sketch-book. She tore out each separate 
 leaf with fierce satisfaction, and saw it cuVl in the grate in 
 fiery torture, then glow and quiver, until the draught 
 caught it and hurried its ashes up the chimney. 
 
 She went through with this process three or four times 
 a year, and felt after each auto da fc a desolation which 
 was terrible. It seemed to herself that she could have 
 wept blood ; as if her whole life stretched out before her 
 in long, barren vistas, unrelieved by a single gleam of joy. 
 But so curiously complex is our nature in youth, that this 
 very despair was, in a way, its own consolation. There 
 was something in it which gratified her pride and appealed 
 to her sense of the picturesque. She was not insincere ; 
 nor was she coquetting with unreal woes. But she main- 
 tained that defiant erectness which was characteristic of 
 her, even in her misery ; she had a feeling of being an 
 exceptional creature, because she had such exceptional 
 sorrows. If she was not like other girls, it was because 
 other girls were so far below her. She envied them, and 
 yet would not have been one of them. 
 
 It was in her eighteenth year that Gertrude woke up one 
 morning with a kind of creative itching and tingling in 
 her brain, as if she must do something or perish. She got 
 out of bed and dressed in a misty tumult, brimming over 
 with a sense of dim energy which made her happy and 
 miserable by turns, but would not leave her in peace. 
 The desire possessed her, she could not tell why, to fash- 
 ion something with her hands something grand and 
 beautiful she did not know what. She had seen sev- 
 eral statues in New York, both in plaster and in marble, 
 and she had surreptitiously taken a few lessons in a sculp- 
 tor's studio. But the thought of emulating him in his art 
 had not then occurred to her. It seemed such an easy 
 thing to do merely to fashion your thoughts in such a 
 pliable substance as clay, with your fingers and a couple of 
 modelling sticks. While yet aglow with this desire, she 
 improvised, with the aid of Tom, Mr. Larkin's stableman, 
 a studio at the top of the house, and for a week shut her- 
 self up, taking her meals in her room. The family were 
 
74 THE MAMMON 
 
 so well accustomed to such caprices on her part that no 
 one marvelled ; and when Mr. Lark in occasionally asked 
 what had become of her, the answer that she was not 
 well seemed to call for no further inquiry. 
 
 It will thus be seen that Gertrude managed to lead an 
 agitated life in the midst of the general monotony. She 
 led a life of her own, though not a happy one. Her 
 original nature and her vigorous blood impelled her to re- 
 bel against her lot, and to grope in eager uncertainty for 
 something to lift her thought and fill her empty ex- 
 istence. She had found something, at last, which, for 
 the time, filled her with satisfaction ; but even while, in 
 a happy intoxication, she was working away, shaping, 
 changing, and reshaping, she was half conscious that she 
 was only the victim of some new delusion. She feared 
 contact with her wonted surroundings, lest she should 
 discover that she had again deceived herself. The stimu- 
 lus of an artificial excitement enabled her, as it were, to 
 inhabit only the upper stories of her mind, and kept her 
 from descending to the ground floor where sobering 
 criticism dwells. It was Dr. Hawk's note, offering her 
 his escort to the seance, which finally compelled her to 
 make the descent ; and she was by no means grateful to 
 him for it. She felt like a bat that had tumbled out into 
 the sunlight ; like a reveller who wakes in the glare of 
 day in the empty banqueting hall. Dr. Hawk seemed as 
 indifferent to her, in this moment, as if he had fallen from 
 the moon. Everything seemed pale and dreary and in- 
 significant. But since the spell was once broken and she 
 had to face another period of desolation, she might just 
 as well put up with Dr. Hawk as with anyone else. He 
 had, at all events, the merit of being unusual, and some- 
 times entertaining. 
 
 What, above all things, made Dr. Hawk interesting 
 was the fact that he had a history, or was suspected of 
 having one. He had come to the university some eight 
 or ten years ago, and had struck up a great friendship 
 with Aleck Larkin. He was then a slender and round- 
 shouldered youth with large black eyes and a sallow com- 
 plexion. Though he scarcely had any money, he dressed 
 with care, and always managed to look striking in his 
 threadbare habiliments. The attention he bestowed upon 
 his appearance, and particularly his picturesquely tum- 
 bled hair made him the butt of the undergraduates, 
 and there was scarcely a week that the student papers did 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 75 
 
 not contain some gibe at him. It had been the fashion in 
 the earlier days of the university rather to affect rough- 
 ness, in deference to the majority, to whom it came with- 
 out affectation. Nothing was more unpopular than " put- 
 ting on airs," and Archibald Hawk, who was adjudged 
 guilty of this offence, acquired the reputation of being 
 everything that was objectionable. He was a hard stu- 
 dent, and yet failed to gain the favor of the majority of 
 the instructors, although Professor Dowd was known to 
 expect great things of him. In the class rooms, his an- 
 swers, which were always out of the common run, were 
 often greeted with derisive laughter. There was an effort 
 at originality in them which made them seem forced. 
 The professors, who were themselves mostly common- 
 place men, failed to see anything but vanity in them, and 
 secretly sympathized with the undergraduate view of 
 their author. 
 
 It was in the second year of their college life that 
 Aleck Larkin, whose generous nature was shocked at the 
 maltreatment of Hawk, began to champion him ; and from 
 that time forth his martyrdom was at an end. He blos- 
 somed out in the literary societies as an orator of a high 
 order ; and though it was not always easy to decide what 
 he was talking about, he enjoyed a certain degree of con- 
 sideration. But it was in a congenial tcte-a-tete that he was 
 at his best. Then clever fancies and surprising ideas rose 
 spontaneously to his lips, like the bubbles in a champagne 
 glass. Only a little sympathetic shake was needed to 
 start them, and they bubbled on delightfully. He could 
 sit for hours in Aleck's room and rhapsodize about sci- 
 ence, and poetry, and religion ; and Aleck, to whom un- 
 usual ideas were always welcome, feasted on his eloquence 
 and rewarded him with the heartiest admiration. After 
 his graduation Hawk went to New York to study medi- 
 cine, and thence to Vienna. How he managed to support 
 himself during these years was a mystery to his friends, 
 and a legend gained currency that he had engaged him- 
 self, in his boyhood, to a young girl who had a little 
 money, and that he had speculated in her devotion with a 
 strict eye to his own advantage. That she was unculti- 
 vated and unattractive, but desperately fond of him, fol- 
 lowed, as a matter of course, and that he remained reluct- 
 antly faithful, for fear of an expost, seemed also in keep- 
 ing with the situation. What made his dilemma still more 
 tragic was the surmise (based upon some sort of shadowy 
 
76 THE MAMMON 
 
 evidence), that he had, during his European sojourn, 
 fallen in love with an exalted lady, whose rank was an 
 obstacle to passionate avowals. Another conjecture was 
 that he had committed some interesting indiscretion, and 
 was now suffering from remorse. 
 
 However that may have been, it was obvious that he 
 was suffering from something. His large dark eyes looked 
 as if they hid a sad secret, and it was impossible to talk 
 long with him without wondering what this secret might 
 be. To young ladies particularly, his vague, sad smile 
 was tantalizing, suggesting all sorts of clues, but furnish- 
 ing none. To Arabella Robbins, who, under the stimulus 
 of a torturing curiosity, had ventured to banter him on 
 his mysterious sorrow, he said with a sigh of dolorous 
 reminiscence : 
 
 " My dear child, if there is one thing your sex is incapa- 
 ble of comprehending, it is its own power for mischief." 
 
 That was a concession, at least, that there was a woman 
 in the case ; but, in other respects, left the field of conject- 
 ure as wide as before. 
 
 It was his friendship for Aleck Larkin which was 
 understood to have induced Hawk to return to Torryville. 
 When, during his stay in Vienna, his resources (whatever 
 they were) had failed him, Aleck had induced his uncle 
 to advance him a loan ; and when his studies were at an 
 end, he was nothing loath to accept his friend's advice 
 and begin his professional career in Torryville. 
 
 He counted upon the Larkin influence to bring him 
 into vogue, and in this he was not disappointed. Mr. 
 Larkin, to be sure, could not be induced to dismiss his 
 old leech, Dr. Sawyer, who wore no necktie, and pre- 
 scribed quinine for all ailments that Torryville was heir 
 to; but Mrs. Larkin submitted the whole list of her ail- 
 ments to Dr. Hawk, and found him very sympathetic. He 
 treated all her symptoms with respect, and discussed them 
 with professional gravity. Mrs. Larkin had not, during 
 her entire life, known the luxury of such tender and con- 
 siderate treatment. She longed for the doctor's visits, 
 and sent for him whenever she sneezed, as her husband 
 humorously averrjsd. Other ladies followed her example, 
 and Hawk soon rejoiced in the reputation of being the 
 ladies' doctor, par excellence. As he was not " a man's man," 
 so no more was he professionally agreeable to the male 
 sufferers of Torryville, who demanded an explicit diag- 
 nosis with a name, strong remedies, and quick recoveries. 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 A HISTRIONIC WOOER. 
 
 When Dr. Hawk, on the evening of the stance, sauntered 
 down Elm Street toward the Larkin mansion, he did not 
 immediately enter. He remained outside in the twilight 
 for some minutes, and stood gazing up at the dusky fa- 
 yade of the house as if he were appraising its value. It 
 was a large, square, unpretentious-looking brick building, 
 painted a light shite-color, with bulging bow windows, and 
 a flat roof. It had once impressed the doctor as a wonder 
 of magnificence, but since his return from Europe he had 
 a conviction that its style was bad. For all that, it repre- 
 sented a good deal of money, and that was always impres- 
 sive. 
 
 "Rather a comfortable box," Hawk remarked to himself, 
 as he mounted the steps and rang the door-bell. 
 
 A servant girl admitted him into the spacious hall, the 
 floor of which was carpeted, and the walls painted a yel- 
 lowish gray, marbled, and divided into geometrical squares. 
 There was a table for the reception of hats and overcoats, 
 and above it hung portraits of the Father of his Country 
 and his spouse. A wide staircase led up to the second 
 floor, and a door in the rear afforded an exit into the yard. 
 A distinct atmosphere of homely comfort and patriotism 
 pervaded the house. Crude likenesses in oil of Grant, 
 Seward, Stanton, and Sumner asserted the latter quality, 
 while the former was a combined impression of spacious- 
 ness, pleasant temperature, and absence of display. The 
 first objects which met the doctor's eye, as he entered 
 the parlor, were Rogers's group of Beecher, Garrison, and 
 Whittier, which stood upon a marble-top table at the win- 
 dow, and a mediocre copy of Carpenter's picture of Lin- 
 coln and his Cabinet, which hung over the piano. The 
 furniture (which had not the faintest touch of aestheticism) 
 was of black walnut, upholstered in red rep. The window 
 curtains were of the same color, and apparently of the 
 same material, but they were much faded where they had 
 
78 THE MAMMON 
 
 been exposed to the light. The walls were plastered and 
 painted gray, with long bars and scrolls of a vaguely dec- 
 orative intent in the corners. On the mantel-piece, which 
 was of marble and glaringly white, a severe-looking black 
 clock, representing the portico of a Greek temple, was tick- 
 ing demurely, and on each side of it was a large bouquet 
 of wax flowers under a glass bell. 
 
 Dr. Hawk, from the height of his foreign experience, 
 was regarding these objects with compassionate contempt, 
 and was imagining the tactics he would employ to get 
 them removed, when he should have gained an intimacy 
 in the house which entitled him to be critical. He had 
 almost made up his mind how to set about it, when a faint 
 sweet odor and a heralding rustle from the other end of 
 the room gave another turn to his fancies. Fie arose and 
 bowed with that foreign flourish of manner which he often 
 assumed where he thought it would impress. Gertrude 
 returned his greeting with an indifference which a weary 
 smile prevented from being impolite. 
 
 Dr. Hawk, in cases of abnormal behavior in his patients, 
 was apt to take a pathological view and refuse to be of- 
 fended. But Gertrude had always declined to recognize 
 him in any but his private capacity, and was disposed to 
 repel his medical solicitude as an impertinence. 
 
 "Miss Gertrude," he said, fixing his sad and tender gaze 
 upon her countenance, "you have been cruel indeed." 
 
 He disliked so much saying what was expected of him, 
 that he often omitted to say " Good-morning," or " Good- 
 evening." 
 
 " Cruel ? " repeated Gertrude ; " how have I been cruel ? " 
 
 "You might have the generosity to comprehend without 
 compelling one to be explicit," said Hawk, in his clear, 
 vibrant bass. 
 
 " I would if I could," the girl replied with a little more 
 animation ; "but I fear, doctor, you overrate my power of 
 intuition." 
 
 '* True genius and true woman ! . Dost deny 
 Thy woman's nature with a manly scorn ? " 
 
 he quoted, rather aimlessly, from his favorite poet, Mrs. 
 Browning. He did not discover until it was too late 
 that the verse did not apply to Gertrude's case. 
 
 "Let us be sensible, doctor, and talk prose," she said, in 
 a vain effort to comprehend. " If I were what you say, I 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 79 
 
 should not be so disheartened and miserable at my incom- 
 petency as I am to-day." 
 
 *' Your incompetency at what ? " 
 
 "At everything I undertake." 
 
 " But if you were commonplace like all the rest you 
 would undertake nothing. You would be vulgarly content 
 with vulgar inanities." 
 
 " Vulgarly content with vulgar inanities. I must re- 
 member that," ejaculated Gertrude. " It is a very consol- 
 ing phrase for one who, like me, is inclined to discontent." 
 
 " Discontent is the Promethean spark in the human 
 breast," the doctor sententiously rejoined ; " if it were not 
 for it we should all be howling savages to-day, instead of 
 civilized beings." 
 
 " Then the blues must be highly civilizing, and the bluer 
 we are the better." 
 
 " That is perhaps a little paradoxically stated. But it 
 is plain that the contented man is conservative and invents 
 nothing. It was the savage who was discontented with the 
 flint axe who dug for iron and paved the way for the steam- 
 engine. It was the men who were dissatisfied with mon- 
 archy who invented the republic." 
 
 " But those who are dissatisfied with the republic, what 
 are they to do ? " 
 
 " They will have to wait for the millennium and work 
 for it." 
 
 " Dear me ! That'll be a long work. I feel already the 
 gray hairs sprouting." 
 
 " Give them to me, and let me keep them as a souvenir 
 of your divine discontent." 
 
 " Divine discontent ! I am obliged for that phrase, too, 
 doctor. It is a charming phrase. It's worth more than 
 a lock of gray hair. But the seance [ had nearly forgotten 
 it. It's time we were off." 
 
 She arose full of animation and moved toward the door. 
 It was marvellous how this man, even when she had deter- 
 mined to be disagreeable to him, tuned her up and restored 
 her self-respect. She took his arm as they descended the 
 steps, and felt his appealing eyes resting sadly upon her in 
 the dusk. A strange feeling rippled down her back she 
 scarcely knew whether it was a thrill or a shiver. Why 
 did she distrust him ? Was it not an unreasoning preju- 
 dice which impelled her to treat him as she did ? What 
 had he ever done to merit her displeasure, except to pay 
 her rather audacious compliments, which might, perhnps, 
 
8O THE MAMMON 
 
 be more sincerely meant than she suspected ? To look 
 upon him in the light of a potential lover was, of course, 
 out of the question, as it was a well-known fact that he 
 was by duty, if not by love, bound to another. There was 
 such a sense of security in this knowledge that she might, 
 without danger to her own peace of mind, take pity on 
 his remorse and console him with sympathy and kindness. 
 
 A strange tremulousness came over her, as she began to 
 meditate the possibilities of the situation. She shivered 
 repeatedly, and before she had walked far, a curious light- 
 headedness made her fearful to open her lips ; while at 
 the same time a leaden weight oppressed her chest and 
 momentarily impeded her breathing. 
 
 "You are not well, Miss Gertrude," cried Hawk, stop- 
 ping and firmly seizing her wrist. 
 
 " Oh, it's nothing," she replied, with forced lightness. 
 " I have been shutting myself up too much of late, I fear, 
 and taken too little exercise." 
 
 " Don't you wish me to take you home ?" 
 
 "No, thank you. It'll be over in a minute." 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 8 1 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 
 
 When Dr. Hawk, on the following morning, called to in- 
 quire about Miss Gertrude's health, he was informed by 
 Mrs. Larkin that "she guessed she was all right ; but she 
 hadn't got out of bed yet. She's a queer girl," Mrs. Larkin 
 continued, " and you can never tell about her whether she's 
 well or sick. But I'm glad you called, doctor, for I ain't 
 feeling particularly scrumptious myself to-day/' 
 
 Whereupon Hawk was regaled with a long and detailed 
 account of Mrs. Larkin's ailments. 
 
 His uneasy conscience impelled him to repeat the call 
 in the afternoon and the following morning ; but Mrs. 
 Larkin attributed each time his presence to solicitude for 
 her own health, and repeated the story of her curious 
 symptoms. She had not seen Gertrude since the day of 
 the stance, but she felt confident that she was all right, 
 though it had not occurred to her to inquire. 
 
 " She often takes a notion to stay in bed for days to- 
 gether," she said, in her usual plaintive accents ; " but if we 
 was to bother about that we shouldn't get much else done 
 in this family. She's a headstrong and cantankerous girl, 
 and it's past finding out what she'll take into her head to 
 do next." 
 
 Mrs. Larkin had always, on general principles, disap- 
 proved of Hawk's attentions to Gertrude, not because she 
 looked upon him as an undesirable son-in-law, but because 
 she could not comprehend how anybody could find Ger- 
 trude attractive. A little unconscious jealousy also min- 
 gled in her disparagement of her adopted daughter, and 
 her calm appropriation of her admirers, when they came 
 to pay court to her, was perhaps ascribable to the same 
 source. Dr. Hawk, to whom Mrs. Larkin's favor was worth 
 a thousand or more a year, did not therefore dare to be- 
 tray his predilection. He timed, however, his next visit 
 so as to avoid meeting the elder la^y, and by interesting 
 
 6, 
 
82 THE MAMMON 
 
 Aleck in his errand gained the intelligence that Gertrude 
 was lying in a sort of stupor, and that apparently she was 
 not at all well. He then demanded admission to her bed- 
 room in his professional capacity, and Aleck, in the absence 
 of any other authority, took the responsibility of admit- 
 ting him. Nettie, the chambermaid, conducted him up to 
 the second floor and ushered him into a large, high-ceiled 
 room, the furniture of which was covered with crayon 
 boxes, half-finished drawings, sketch-books, and articles of 
 feminine apparel. On the sofa a white starched skirt was 
 lying in friendly proximity to a box of charcoal; on the 
 pegs of an easel which stood in front of the north win- 
 dow, hung a big Gainsborough hat, a corset, and bonnet ; 
 shoes of various descriptions were lying about the floor, 
 as if they had been tried and kicked off in disgust. A 
 couple of reduced antiques in plaster struck superb atti- 
 tudes upon the mantel-piece and tables, and half-finished 
 crayon and charcoal repetitions of them, from many 
 points of view, were nailed with tacks to the walls. A paper 
 shade, which could be rolled from below upward, regu- 
 lated the light from the large western window ; and the 
 afternoon sun, which made it half translucent, showed the 
 bold fragments of arms and legs and experimental physi- 
 ognomies with which it was covered. 
 
 Dr. Hawk gained a distinct impression of the uncon- 
 ventionality of this curious boudoir, as he approached the 
 bed, where Gertrude lay in feverish, uneasy slumber. 
 Her face was flushed, and there was a distressed expres- 
 sion in the frown upon her brow, and the strained lines 
 about her mouth. 
 
 " I reckon she ain't quite right in her head," observed 
 the maid, who remained standing at the door. "She took 
 on mighty hard last night, talkin' and cryin' and makin' a 
 big racket." 
 
 "And did you tell the family that she was ill ?" asked 
 the doctor, sternly. 
 
 "No. She's sorter queer most of the time, and the fam- 
 ily don't bother much about her." 
 
 " Yes, blood is thicker than water," murmured Hawk, 
 half to himself ; and yet it seemed odd to him that a girl 
 so beautiful as Gertrude and so well endowed could be of 
 such small consequence in her own home. He looked at 
 her for some minutes with a wholly unprofessional glance, 
 and wondered where she got those large, Titianic lines 
 that splendid throat those stately shoulders. He took 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 83 
 
 hold of her hand, which was large and of noble shape 
 with long, supple fingers ; he could not help feeling that 
 the pulse beat with abnormal speed within it, but he 
 staved off all medical reflections until he had filled him- 
 self with the impression of her loveliness. It was unpro- 
 fessional conduct, as he well knew, but after all, even a 
 doctor was a man first, and only secondarily a physi- 
 cian. 
 
 "Where the deuce does she hail from?" muttered he, - 
 staring at her flushed features, as if endeavoring to read 
 in them the riddle of her birth. " I'll be hanged if I be- 
 lieve that story about the orphan asylum. One doesn't 
 pick up that kind of specimens in orphan asylums. She 
 was born to the purple and in some way defrauded of it," 
 he continued, mentally ; " that is unless her mouth and her 
 chin and her eyes and every instinct of her nature have 
 entered into a conspiracy to lie." 
 
 It struck him in the midst of his meditations that he 
 was, perhaps, taking an unfair advantage, in thus peering 
 into a young girl's soul through the transparent mask of 
 her unconscious face. But this thought did not greatly 
 trouble him ; he was more of an sesthetician than a mor- 
 alist The maid's presence, however, began to arouse his 
 torpid conscience. He beckoned her to come nearer, 
 and addressed to her a series of professional questions ; 
 then wrote a couple of prescriptions and begged her to 
 hurry to the apothecary and return with the medicines. 
 Having made this concession to duty, he pulled an easy 
 chair up to the bed and became once more absorbed in 
 genealogical conjectures. The groping, undirected artis- 
 tic instinct which revealed itself in the chaotic adorn- 
 ments of the room the perpetual start toward something 
 acutely felt, but never attained suggested a soul-history 
 full of pathetic incidents. Discouragement disgust at 
 recurrent failures passionate vacillations between all ex- 
 tremes of feeling could, by the aid of a little ingenuity, 
 be read in the fragmentary sketches of limbs, heads, tor- 
 sos, and landscapes. "But such aspirations must have 
 an ancestry of some sort," Hawk reflected ; " they do not 
 start out of the ground like toadstools." 
 
 He let his glance roam slowly about the room, and by 
 the time it returned to the bed it met that of his patient, 
 staring at him with a puzzled frown, as if she was trying 
 to determine whether he might not, after all, be a mere 
 fever vision. 
 
84 THE MAMMON 
 
 "I am sorry to see that you are ill, Miss Gertrude,'' he 
 said, in as solemn a tone as he had at his command. She 
 rubbed her eyes, first with one hand then with the other; 
 but did not answer. 
 
 " I took the liberty to admire your artistic efforts," he 
 went on, a trifle embarrassed. The discovery that he had 
 been stared at, he did not know how long, annoyed him ; 
 it gave him a sensation of having been surprised in un- 
 dress. It required always a moment's preparation to com- 
 pose his face into its tragic folds. 
 
 "Am I very ill, doctor," she asked, after a pause, during 
 which she had convinced herself of his reality. 
 
 "I cannot tell yet. Your pulse is 130." 
 
 "Is that much or little ?" 
 
 "It is a good deal more than it ought to be." 
 
 "Then you think I am going to die ?" 
 
 " Not at present." 
 
 " You needn't spare me. I don't care." 
 
 "My dear Miss Gertie, you know I do not believe in 
 death. When a person's time comes, he merely passes 
 out of the body the soul, which is he, moves into another 
 house " 
 
 " Well," she interposed, impatiently ; " don't you think 
 I am going to pass out move into another house ?" 
 
 " Not until you have seen a good deal more of life than 
 you have yet." 
 
 " I don't think I care to see a great deal more. What I 
 have seen has not been particularly pleasant." 
 
 He noticed an hysterical quivering of her lips and saw 
 that her eyes were full of tears. 
 
 "You mustn't talk," he said. "You are weak from the 
 fever. I'll give you something to .reduce your tempera- 
 ture." 
 
 " I will talk," she answered, with determination. "Who 
 cares whether I live or die ? " 
 
 " I care, for one." 
 
 She looked at him with large, solemn eyes. 
 
 "Ah, life, life, life ! " she sighed. 
 
 " Why do you say that ? " 
 
 "Because I sometimes suspect that you are a great hum- 
 bug," she answered, gravely. 
 
 He gave a start at her words and gazed back at her with 
 a sad, reproachful glance. 
 
 " I know you are not accountable for what you say in 
 your present condition," he murmured. 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 85 
 
 She lay for a while breathing heavily and staring vaguely 
 at the ceiling. 
 
 4i Why do you live here, anyway ? " she asked, abruptly. 
 
 " I have to live somewhere." 
 
 "But with your talents and your great knowledge, I 
 should think you could make your living anywhere." 
 
 " It is not all of life to live," the doctor quoted, impres- 
 sively. 
 
 " I know that, but it is apt to be a very important part." 
 
 Hawk sighed and looked out of the window. 
 
 "Why don't you answer?" asked Gertrude, striving to 
 catch a glimpse of his features. 
 
 "My dear Miss Gertrude," he replied, turning his mel- 
 ancholy face toward her ; " there are some things in fact, 
 you should not try to peer into any one's soul ; it is not 
 kind of you." 
 
 There was a tone of appeal in his voice which took the 
 sting away from the rebuke, and aroused interest and 
 curiosity. 
 
 " It is true, after all, he has a secret sorrow," thought 
 Gertrude. " It must be a very low woman who would 
 hold him to a promise which he gave as a boy, when he 
 has since come to repent of it." 
 
 And she lapsed into conjectures as to the appearance of 
 this obnoxious woman, her age, and the circumstances of 
 her life; and the longer she meditated the more she grew 
 to hate her. The doctor, as a victim of affectionate perse- 
 cution, which he had incurred by his love of learning, be- 
 came a more interesting person than he had ever been 
 before. She became convinced that she had been unjust 
 to him in attributing the dramatic accent in his conduct 
 and speech to an uneasy vanity and desire to impress. 
 He was, no doubt, more genuine than she suspected. 
 
 Presently Nettie returned with the medicine bottles and 
 interrupted her reflections. The doctor felt Gertrude's 
 pulse once more, took her temperature by means of a 
 thermometer placed in her arm-pit, asked her a few medi- 
 cal questions, poured out a teaspoonful of medicine, which 
 he gave her, and left minute instructions as to her diet,, 
 the ventilation of the room, etc. There was something in 
 his professional conduct which was distinctly agreeable. 
 His grave tenderness, his soft, unhesitating touch and reso- 
 lute motions inspired confidence. Though the physician 
 seemed so distinct from the man, he yet reflected a little 
 of his character upon his unprofessional brother. 
 
86 THE MAMMON 
 
 On the stairs Hawk was met by Alexander, who inquired 
 with some anxiety what was the matter with his cousin. 
 
 " I can't tell for a certainty," answered his friend ; " but 
 it looks very much like typhoid." 
 
 "Typhoid!" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 The word struck terror to Aleck's heart. He had never 
 appeared to be extravagantly fond of Gertrude, but they 
 had, in a way, grown up together, and through all their 
 superficial bickerings had been boon companions. Habit 
 had fostered between them an attitude which was not 
 that of devotion ; but under it all smouldered a feeling 
 which was warm and genuine. At all events Aleck was 
 conscious of a sudden faintness at the thought that Ger- 
 trude's life was in danger ; and as soon as he recovered 
 from the first shock began to think in a bewildered way 
 what he could do to save her. Hawk, feeling it incum- 
 bent upon him to apprise the rest of the family of the 
 young girl's condition, secured an interview with Mrs. 
 Larkin, who, in the meanwhile had returned from a chari- 
 table errand, and repeated to her the instructions he had 
 given the chambermaid. 
 
 " I would recommend you to engage a professional 
 nurse," he said ; " it will be an affair of six weeks or more, 
 and a great deal depends upon the nursing." 
 
 "All right, doctor," Mrs. Larkin replied, with an injured 
 air; "you get her. She charges twenty-one dollars a week 
 to be sure, and if that ain't outrageous, I don't know what 
 is, but I guess I ain't good enough to take care of the 
 girl ; and if you say I ain't, I won't say I am. Though, 
 when I was a girl, nobody thought of engaging a nurse at 
 twenty-one dollars a week for anybody, no matter how sick 
 he was." 
 
 Mrs. Larkin seemed altogether more offended than 
 grieved at her adopted daughter's illness, and Hawk had 
 to talk to her for an hour, before he could persuade her to 
 withdraw her opposition to the measures he' thought 
 necessary. He struck the right chord, however, when he 
 argued that the extremely delicate condition of Mrs. Lar- 
 kin's own health would make it absolutely dangerous for 
 her to expose herself to the toil and fatigue of attending 
 to the wants of an invalid who was often inclined to be 
 unreasonable and exacting. This little drop of implied 
 censure of Gertrude set Mrs. Larkin's scruples at rest, 
 and induced her, after much cavil, to give the doctor carte 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 8/ 
 
 blanche. As soon as he had removed the impression that 
 he entertained the least solicitude for Gertrude's fate, or 
 swerved in his undivided loyalty to Mrs. Larkin's ail- 
 ments, he could have twined his patroness about his fin- 
 ger. When Mr. Larkin came home and heard the word 
 typhoid mentioned, he grew very serious. He scratched 
 his head frequently, and rubbed his forehead. Sometimes 
 he took hold of his bushy eyebrows and pulled them, then 
 looked at his thumb and forefinger to see if he had ex- 
 tracted any hairs. He grew more and more restless the 
 more his wife talked to him. Her lugubrious forebod- 
 ings and Biblical quotations irritated him. His sanguine 
 nature could not bear to contemplate an annoying thought, 
 and yet all his efforts to throw it off were unavailing. He 
 made a feint of eating when supper was served, and before 
 the meal was at an end, arose and mounted the stairs to 
 Gertrude's room. The creaking of his boots made an in- 
 tolerable racket, and he sat down on the topmost step and 
 pulled them off. Just then the Dutch clock in the hall 
 struck seven, and every stroke seemed to resound through 
 the still house with distressing distinctness. Mr. Larkin 
 walked down in his stocking feet and stopped it. The 
 canary bird in the library, who was in a shockingly hilari- 
 ous mood, he sent down into the kitchen. It was a satis- 
 faction to be doing something which gave him a respite 
 from harassing thought. When at last he had nerved 
 himself to open the door of the sick-room, he found Mrs. 
 Rasher, the hired nurse, already sitting at the bed-side. 
 He looked about the room in wonder and again scratched 
 his head, while a curious grimace, half of amazement, half 
 of disapprobation, distorted one side of his face. He in- 
 spected the plaster casts, the charcoal and crayon boxes, 
 and the naked men who struck attitudes on the walls, be- 
 fore he turned his attention to his daughter. 
 
 " Poor thing, I reckon she is a little loony," he mur- 
 mured, and remained standing, lost in reverie, in the mid- 
 dle of the floor ; ''her mother was so before her," he added, 
 after a long pause. 
 
 He walked on tiptoe up to the bed and seated himself 
 in the easy chair which the doctor had occupied. Ger- 
 trude, under the influence of the drugs she had taken, was 
 lying in a heavy stupor. There was no trace of feeling 
 in his hard, gray eyes, as he sat gazing at her flushed, mo- 
 tionless features, but he glanced now and then uneasily at 
 the nurse, as if he feared that she .might suspect him of 
 
88 THE MAMMON 
 
 being emotional. The latter, divining that she was de trap, 
 got up and gave herself an errand out into the hall ; and 
 Mr. Larkin seized the opportunity to stroke his daughter's 
 listless hand, and heave a big sigh which shook his whole 
 frame. There was something shy and awkward in the way 
 he pulled his hand away the moment the nurse re-entered. 
 
 " Do you reckon she has any chance?" he asked her, a 
 trifle huskily, as she resumed her seat at the foot of the bed. 
 
 "It is too early to tell yet," she replied ; "but she is 
 young and strong, and I should say she had ten chances 
 to one." 
 
 Mr. Larkin did not trust himself to speak a second 
 time. He feared to imperil his dignity. 
 
 During the eight or nine days that followed Gertrude 
 had but few conscious moments. She raved in her delir- 
 ium about the doctor, Professor Ramsdale, Mr. Robbins, 
 and particularly about some imaginary creature whom she 
 addressed as "mother." 
 
 " Come, mother," she cried again and again ; " you look 
 cold and miserable. Come, let me warm you up. Don't 
 run away from me that way. I am Gertie, don't you 
 know ? I won't harm you. They have been bad to you, 
 mother. Who is it has been bad to you ? You need not 
 be afraid of me. It is I who am afraid of you, sometimes, 
 but I'll try not to be. I'll try to love you. But oh, don't 
 look at me with those horrible eyes!" 
 
 And she would start up with a scream and bury her face 
 in the pillows. Sometimes she reached the middle of the 
 floor in her effort to escape from the ghostly eyes, and 
 help had to be summoned to get her back into bed. Hawk 
 made two or three visits a day, but did not seem quite 
 satisfied with the turn the disease was taking. He would 
 have liked to call in another physician for consultation, 
 but he lived on a war footing with his medical colleagues 
 in the town, and had, moreover, so low an opinion of their 
 acquirements, that he felt unequal to the solemn farce of 
 asking their opinion. As something had to be done, how- 
 ever, he induced Mr. Larkin to telegraph for a renowned 
 specialist in New York City, to whose judgment he could 
 subordinate his own without humiliation. But the re- 
 nowned leech, who arrived promptly, had very little to 
 say. He approved, on the whole, of everything Hawk 
 had done, but he decided to remain for some days, while 
 his assistance might be of value. The fever had, on the 
 ninth day, reached its crisis, and an atmosphere of dumb 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 89 
 
 excitement pervaded the house. Swift and low orders 
 were issued from the sick room, now for ice, then for 
 brandy, camphor, hot or cold water, sponges, towels, etc. 
 Every now and then the sick-nurse, with her sleeves rolled 
 up to the shoulder, flitted noiselessly across the hall to 
 the head of the stairs, where the chambermaid sat weep- 
 ing, and hastily wiped away her tears with her apron, to 
 attend to her orders ; and Gertie's canary bird, who, some- 
 how, had found its way back into the library, lay dead 
 from starvation on the bottom of its darkened cage ; the 
 big clock in the hall, with its motionless pendulum, gave 
 the impression that time itself had come to an end. 
 
 Alexander, who was seated before the open fire-place, 
 staring into the smouldering embers, felt weary and op- 
 pressed. He had been walking about for days in a state 
 of anxious expectancy ; the calamity which loomed up 
 before him seemed to throw its gloom over his entire life. 
 It seemed to him as if he must forever walk in its shadow. 
 Could life be the same to him when Gertrude was dead ? 
 Well, life has a heartless way of adjusting itself to all 
 changes, however radical ; of closing, with unruffled sur- 
 face, like the sea, over its dead, and swiftly obliterating 
 their footsteps. Alexander, though his heart rebelled 
 against this order, knew that it was merciful. Even now 
 there was something remote and mysterious in his thought 
 of Gertrude. It was as if she were already half way out of 
 his life. What were they doing to her, those strange 
 doctors, in whose hands she was left, isolated from all the 
 familiar world which had hitherto surrounded her ? She 
 underwent a singular transformation in his thought, and 
 he found it difficult, even in fancy, to realize their former 
 relation of easy, bantering familiarity. 
 
 He spent the entire night in his chair before the fire, 
 receiving now and then a visit from his uncle, who was 
 restlessly hovering about in his stocking feet from room 
 to room. He seemed to have something on his conscience 
 which he wished to confide to Aleck, but which appar- 
 ently, on second thought, he concluded to keep to him- 
 self. He looked haggard from loss of sleep. The lines 
 of his face had lost 'their resolute firmness, and drooped 
 pathetically. He stood long at the window, the shutters 
 of which no one had thought of closing, and gazed at the 
 great dark clouds which hurried away over the tree-tops. 
 
 " The the wind is veering northward," he observed, as 
 he resumed his seat at the fire ; " it feels like snow." 
 
9O THE MAMMON 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 A FATAL ENTANGLEMENT. 
 
 " It was like fanning a spark," said the renowned physi- 
 cian, as he pocketed Mr. Larkin's check, two days after 
 the critical night ; "a moment's abatement of vigilance and 
 all might have been over." 
 
 " Tell me, doctor," said Aleck, who was standing at his 
 desk in the library regarding the great man with grateful 
 admiration, "do you think a great excitement could induce 
 typhoid fever ? " 
 
 "If it did not actually produce it," the doctor replied, 
 "it might yet be the proximate cause of it. By prostrating 
 the body, and reducing its vitality, it would make it more 
 liable to succumb to a fever, the germs of which were 
 already in the blood." 
 
 Aleck drove the doctor to the depot in the family buggy, 
 and by pursuing this subject further became convinced 
 that it was the spiritual stance which had brought Ger- 
 trude to death's door. An intense bitterness toward Dr. 
 Hawk filled his soul. It was he who, in case Gertrude 
 had died, would have been her slayer. All that morbid 
 hunger for excitement ; all that owlish nocturnal traffic 
 with its mystic nonsense became so abhorrent to him, that 
 he felt an itching to attack with his fists the first spiritual- 
 ist that came in his way. The little dramatic touch in 
 Hawk's behavior which had hitherto seemed but an ex- 
 pression of his intensity of nature, seemed now of a piece 
 with the ghostly charlatanry in which he was mixed 
 up, and put him on a par with mediums and quacks who 
 found it necessary to depart from ordinary standards of 
 conduct. 
 
 It was a mettlesome beast Aleck was driving, and he did 
 not in his indignation give due heed to its management. 
 As they crossed one of the three railroad tracks which it 
 was necessary to traverse before reaching the depot, the 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 91 
 
 buggy leaped so high that it was only the doctor's two 
 hundred and thirty pounds which saved him from a bath 
 in the gutter. 
 
 Gertrude's recovery was slow, but proceeded for a while 
 without interruption. In order to avoid agitation she saw 
 no one except the nurse and Dr. Hawk ; and when the 
 latter arrived, the former usually seized the opportunity 
 to absent herself. It was in the second week of her con- 
 valescence that Hawk one day took his seat at her bed- 
 side, in an exceptionally lugubrious frame of mind. 
 His hair was more than ordinarily rumpled and the scowl 
 on his handsome brow more than ever recalled Booth in 
 " Hamlet." 
 
 Gertrude, cut off as she was from all communication 
 with the world, found herself pondering in the long idle 
 hours on the causes of his discontent, and spinning long 
 romances, of which he naturally was the hero. She imag- 
 ined he grew sadder in the same degree that she regained 
 her strength, and she came to the conclusion that there 
 had probably been some new development in relation to 
 that odious woman who persisted in loving him in de- 
 manding a return in affection for her expenditure in 
 money. 
 
 This gnawing heart-sorrow "this worm that never 
 dieth" became a wonderfully vivid and interesting thing 
 to her in her meditations ; it trailed its course through 
 the long procession of vacant hours and grew larger 
 and fiercer from day to day. The only event which in- 
 terrupted the train of her morbid imaginings was the ar- 
 rival every morning of afresh bouquet of roses with a little 
 sympathetic message from her cousin Aleck. But the roses, 
 though they flamed in a variety of gorgeous colors, grad- 
 ually paled beside the intenser hues of Hawk's romance. 
 She did not know, of course, that they arrived fresh in 
 moss by the morning train from Rochester ; but it is ques- 
 tionable if even this circumstance, if it had been known, 
 would have enabled them to hold their own against the 
 doctor's lurid passion flowers. 
 
 " It is well with you to-day," he was saying, as he pushed 
 back the lace wristband of her robe de nuit and felt her 
 pulse ; " yes, yes, yes ; it is well with you." 
 
 "But it does not seem to be well with you, doctor," 
 Gertrude remarked. " Let me give you this flower, the 
 odor of it will refresh you." 
 
 She handed him a half-opened deep-crimson bud, and 
 
92 THE MAMMON' 
 
 he took it with his disengaged hand, and stared at it, shak- 
 ing his head mournfully. 
 
 " I sometimes think that never blows so red 
 The rose, as where some buried Caesar bled," * 
 
 he declaimed, with his mellow, gently vibrating bass. 
 
 The words thrilled like a light shiver through Gertrude's 
 frame. 
 
 " You spoil the flowers for me," she said, with half- 
 assumed petulance ; " it is horrid to think that they draw 
 their color from anybody's blood." 
 
 " There will grow a redder rose than that out of my 
 blood," he murmured, half absently. 
 
 " I don't believe it. You couldn't get a redder one than 
 that." 
 
 The doctor stood silent fora moment, then began slowly 
 to pick the rose-bud to pieces. His lips began to move, 
 and with low and exquisite intonations he declaimed, 
 
 "Ah, love, could you and I with Him conspire 
 To grasp this sorry scheme of things entire, 
 Would not we shatter it to bits and then 
 Remould it nearer to our hearts' desire?" 
 
 The passionate energy with which he thrust forth the 
 third line made again the girl quiver with sympathetic 
 excitement. 
 
 " You don't mean that, doctor," she whispered ; " it is 
 only poetry you are reciting." 
 
 "Ah, child," the doctor responded, "you do not know 
 what you are saying." 
 
 And with a stage frown and gesture he flung the strip- 
 ped rose-bud into the fireplace. 
 
 " Yes, I would shatter it to bits," he repeated through his 
 clinched teeth ; "and then" (here he raised his eyebrows 
 and fixed a darkly penetrating glance upon Gertrude) " re- 
 mould it closer to my heart's desire." 
 
 He took up his hat and walked rapidly out of the room. 
 
 A thought dawned upon Gertrude a thought which 
 shook her being to its very core. It came over her with 
 the force of a sudden conviction. She was not sure 
 whether it gave her joy or pain a joyful pain, or a pain- 
 ful joy seemed more nearly to express her sensation. In 
 the tumult of feeling which convulsed her feeble frame 
 
 * Omar Khayyam's ** Rhubayat." 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 93 
 
 there was something overwhelming, inexorable, like Fate 
 itself. How was it possible that she had not thought of it be- 
 fore ? How wilfully blind she had been not to see what, for 
 conscientious reasons, he had endeavored to conceal from 
 her ; but which now had broken down the barriers with 
 which timid scruples had hedged it in. He loved her ; 
 had loved her silently and patiently for years ; though she 
 had availed herself of her power by alternately attracting 
 and rebuffing him. He was bound to another, who, no 
 doubt, was base enough to resort to any measure to keep 
 him ; who had mortgaged his affections, and meant to fore- 
 close, if she suspected him of a disposition to alienate them. 
 Hence his melancholy his tendency to brood upon the 
 darker sides of life. And to think that she, who had been 
 the cause of his sorrow, had been cruel enough to ridicule 
 him. She did penance to the doctor in her heart, and 
 determined, in the future, to make amends for her bad 
 behavior in the past. That he was culpable in having, by 
 his unguarded conduct, agitated her, when her very life 
 was intrusted to his care, did not for a moment occur to 
 her. The mighty passion in his breast, of which she had 
 caught a glimpse, seemed to her feminine mind relent- 
 less as a force of nature, and it would be absurd to de- 
 mand of him that he should restrain it. 
 
 She scarcely had the heart to attribute her general pros- 
 tration during the afternoon, and the return of the fever 
 toward evening, to the fatal discovery she had made in the 
 morning. She could not find it in her heart to blame a 
 man for loving her, even at the peril of her life. This 
 accidental betrayal of a vital secret (for she firmly believed 
 it to be accidental) under the stress of irresistible feeling 
 seemed lifted above the common prose standards of 
 judgment. It seemed like a passage from Shakespere a 
 glimpse of that world of lofty thought and action for which 
 she had hungered. She looked forward with a palpitating 
 eagerness to the doctor's arrival, heedless of the fact that 
 every winged thought, every accelerated heart-beat, was 
 draining the ebbing remnants of her fountain of life. 
 
 When Hawk finally did arrive there was something a 
 little shamefaced in his appearance which displeased her. 
 So far from coming like a conquering hero, riding rough- 
 shod over all paltry considerations, he did not quite dare 
 look herin the eye, but stole quick and half-guilty glances 
 at her when he imagined himself unobserved. He acted like 
 the very personification of a bad conscience. The return 
 
94 THE MAMMON 
 
 of her fever disturbed him, and the recurrence of other un- 
 favorable symptoms caused him an alarm which he could 
 not conceal behind a non-committal, professional mask. 
 Mrs. Rasher, the nurse, who, contrary to her custom, had 
 remained in the room, saw in his conduct a confirmation 
 of suspicions which she had long entertained. She had 
 heard snatches of the extraordinary poetry he had recited, 
 and had resented, moreover, the lofty scorn with which he 
 had rejected her medical suggestions. The story of the 
 stance was also, by this time, a matter of common gossip, 
 and Mrs. Rasher, who put her own construction upon it, 
 had declared emphatically in the kitchen, that in case Miss 
 Gertrude died, she wouldn't like 'Dr. Hawk's conscience 
 for a bedfellow. 
 
 Apparently the doctor shared her opinion, for he did 
 not go to bed that night. After a brief interview with 
 Mr. Larkin he telegraphed again for the famous specialist, 
 who replied that he would arrive by the morning train. 
 The patient, in the meanwhile, after a restless, drugged 
 sleep, had become delirious, and Mrs. Rasher, brimming 
 over with indignation against Hawk, felt the need of free- 
 ing her mind to some member of the family. She accord- 
 ingly seized the opportunity when Aleck, his handsome 
 brow knitted with distress, mounted the stairs to inquire 
 about his cousin's condition. Mrs. Rasher, standing on 
 the topmost step, gave her version of what had happened 
 in a hushed voice, but with much spirit. 
 
 "He's been a-comin' here every mortel day, sweet- 
 heartin' with her, and talkin' poentry and stuff, and a-cuttin' 
 up like a young cub, as hasn't got no more conscience 
 than I have hair on the back of my hand," said Mrs. Rash- 
 er, illustrating her comparison by a rapid stroke of her 
 right hand over the back of the left. "And she, poor 
 thing, lyin' there on her back, and seein' nobody but him, 
 it ain't no wonder if she takes on hard about him, when 
 she's out of her head, and gets flustered when he speaks 
 to her ; and he, all the time, a-wrigglin' about like a snake 
 in the grass, jest to be aggervatin', and tearin' her roses to 
 pieces and flingin' 'em into the grate, and actin' up gen- 
 erally, and pertendin' to forget that he's a-holdin' her 
 poor life between his fingers, like a candle that's a-splut- 
 terrn', that he kin blow out with one little breath of his 
 mouth." 
 
 Mrs. Rasher was so moved that the tears rolled down 
 over her cheeks. She took her clean, white apron, blew 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 95 
 
 her nose surreptitiously under it, and wiped her eyes. 
 The young man was so stunned by her recital that for a 
 while he could do nothing but stare at her with a face full 
 of dismay. There was something in what she said which 
 jarred harshly within him and set all his being painfully 
 astir. If he had had the doctor at that moment under his 
 hand, he felt as if he could have murdered him with rapt- 
 ure. The vague distrust he had felt of him, since the 
 spiritual episode, deepened into hate. That jealousy had 
 anything to do with his emotion he did not himself dream ; 
 for his uppermost feelings were condemnation of the doc- 
 tor's abuse of the trust confided to him, and a trembling 
 anticipation of the calamity which would overtake the 
 family in Gertrude's death. It did not occur to him to 
 question Mrs. Rasher's veracity (as his brother Horace 
 under similar circumstances would have done). As soon 
 as he gained control of his voice he thanked her briefly 
 and descended into the library, where he found Hawk 
 seated before the fire, smoking a cigar. Three gas-jets 
 were dimly burning under the roof, and there was a drop- 
 light with a green shade standing upon Mr. Larkin's writ- 
 ing-table. In the embrasure of the bow-window Horace 
 was sitting with a newspaper over his face dozing. Aleck's 
 entrance awoke him, and merely to signalize the fact that 
 he was awake, he observed in a voice which grated terribly 
 upon his brother's overwrought nerves : 
 
 "You don't think she has much of a chance, doctor, do 
 you ?" 
 
 " All we can do," responded Hawk, solemnly, " is to 
 labor 'hopefully against hope.'" 
 
 That irritating little epigram, the insincerity of which 
 Was now palpable, fell into Aleck's mind as a spark into 
 a powder magazine. There sat the man upon whom he 
 had lavished the guileless affection and faith of his youth ; 
 the man to whose glittering paradoxes he had listened 
 devoutly as to the inspirations of genius ; the man whom 
 he had befriended when others turned their backs upon 
 him, and revered as something nobler and finer than com- 
 mon clay. Each one of these thoughts was a pang of 
 anguish and humiliation. A savage rage took possession 
 of him. He shook like an aspen leaf. He felt an impulse 
 to seize the doctor by the throat, to knock him against the 
 wall, to stamp on him with his feet. But even in the 
 midst of his agitation there was a still small voice of re- 
 flection, which, like a sober commentary, accompanied the 
 
96 THE MAMMON 
 
 excited text. Even while he yearned to strangle the doc- 
 tor, he knew that he would never do it. The remark 
 which he finally made was several octaves below the pitch 
 he had intended to strike. 
 
 "Dr. Hawk," he said, with unsteady voice, "you are 
 playing an underhand game here." 
 
 Hawk turned his head quickly with a vague alarm in his 
 face. 
 
 "What do you mean by that ?" he asked, with surly in- 
 difference. 
 
 "What would you call a physician," continued Aleck, 
 struggling to master his agitation, " who in order to gratify 
 his own vanity, sacrificed a life entrusted to his care ?" 
 
 " I would call him a d d scoundrel," cried Hawk. 
 
 "So would I," Aleck retorted hotly ; "and that's what I 
 call you." 
 
 The doctor started up with a livid face, and made a 
 motion as if he intended to grab the fire-irons. But sud- 
 denly he bit his lip, thrust his hands vehemently into his 
 pockets and took a couple of long strides across the floor. 
 He nearly ran against Horace, who, by this time had got 
 his paper down from his face and was watching the scene 
 with the same kind of interest with which a man watches 
 a dog-fight, simply to see who will beat. 
 
 "You are my witness," Hawk burst out, "that your 
 brother has insulted me." 
 
 " You wish to retain me as counsel, do you ? Well, 
 business is business." 
 
 " I suppose you have heard the language your brother 
 has used toward me ? " 
 
 " I shall have to ask for a retainer before I commit my- 
 self to any such testimony," Horace replied, with mock 
 gravity. 
 
 " I tell you I'm not fooling," cried the doctor, angrily. 
 
 " Nor am I," answered Horace, coolly. " You know an 
 attorney never likes to take the witness-stand in favor of 
 his own client. It is a thing that is only resorted to in ex- 
 treme cases." 
 
 The doctor turned around on his heel, and muttering an 
 oath walked across the floor to the mantel, where Aleck 
 was standing with his back to the fire. 
 
 " Will you or will you not apologize for what you have 
 said ?" he asked, breathing hard. 
 
 " I will not." 
 
 " Then you are prepared to take the responsibility ? " 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 97 
 
 " What responsibility ? " 
 
 " The responsibility of life and death." 
 
 Aleck stood as one petrified. That had not occurred to 
 him when he gave way to his indignation. He did not 
 know that the New York specialist had been telegraphed 
 for; and even if he had known it, would he have been 
 willing to leave Gertrude without medical aid for one 
 night, when her life was every moment trembling in the 
 balance ? The floor seemed to be gliding away from un- 
 der his feet, leaving him standing in mid-air. His legs 
 seemed numb, his senses frozen. " If she should die, if 
 she should die," he kept mechanically repeating to him- 
 self ; "if she should die to-night, what would become of 
 me ? " 
 
 He murmured the question half aloud, and with a sin- 
 gular coolness, merely to keep hold of the situation which 
 threatened to slip away from his grasp. All of a sudden 
 a flash broke through his mind. He saw himself fleeing 
 through the long years of the future, in storm and dark- 
 ness, pursued by the terrible phantom Remorse. The 
 vision of Gertrude dead with cold, upturned face, sunken 
 eyes, and white, unfeeling hands folded upon her breast 
 sent another pang to his heart. With a face eloquent 
 with anguish he stood for a while staring at Hawk. " I 
 apologize, doctor," he said, huskily. " I beg your par- 
 don."^ 
 
 
98 THE MAMMON 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 A SANGUINARY EPISODE. 
 
 A week of anxious suspense followed the arrival of the 
 renowned leech, who, after a stay of two days, sent on a 
 younger colleague from New York, who took full charge 
 of the case, practically superseding Hawk. It was obvious 
 to the latter that the elder practitioner had taken in the 
 situation, and had intended to make him superfluous ; but 
 lest others should hit upon this opinion, and his prestige 
 in the town suffer, he exalted Dr. Manson's ability to the 
 skies, and treated him with distinguished consideration. 
 If he gnashed his teeth in private and resented the polite 
 but unmistakable rebuffs which he received, whenever he 
 attempted to interfere, he was clever enough to adjust his 
 public mask so as to disguise his feelings. The mood of his 
 favorite poet, Omar Khayyam, always came to his rescue, 
 dulling the edge of pain, when his resentment was keen- 
 est. It was all vanity of vanities. In a hundred years 
 what would it matter ? He would then pace up and down 
 the floor of his sitting-room, with his head bent, and now 
 and then glancing half surreptitiously at himself in the 
 mirror, while he murmured : 
 
 " When you and I beyond the vail are past, 
 
 Oh, but the long, long while the world shall last, 
 Which of our coming and departure heeds 
 As heed the seven seas a pebble cast." 
 
 Heine observed that he wore out the patience of all his 
 friends in dying, and Gertrude, if she had been aware oi 
 it, might have had the same experience. Mr. Larkin, 
 genuine though his grief had been, had gradually grown 
 callous, and in a vague way had accustomed himself to 
 the thought of Gertrude's loss. Horace, whose sympa- 
 thies were never very acute, felt an annoyance (of which, 
 to do him justice, he was ashamed) at having the house 
 turned upside down for so long a time ; and Mrs. Larkin, 
 in order to give vfcnt to her accumulated sense of wrong, 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 99 
 
 scolded the servants, discharged one cook after the other, 
 and threw out accusations of a grave nature against every- 
 one who displeased her. Only Aleck followed the prog- 
 ress of the disease with undiminished anxiety, and hailed 
 with inexpressible relief the first decisive turn toward re- 
 covery. Of the many townspeople who had been in the 
 habit of inquiring at the door about the patient's condi- 
 tion, only Professor Ramsdale persevered until inquiry 
 seemed superfluous. 
 
 It was remarked in the town, as the winter progressed, 
 that the friendship between Aleck and the doctor had 
 cooled. They had before been constant companions, and 
 were now never seen together. On his long afternoon 
 tramps Aleck was now accompanied by the taciturn Rams- 
 dale, who paced with a long, business-like stride like a 
 professional pedestrian. The professor had not a spark 
 of humor and was not exhilarating company. But there 
 was something solid and trustworthy about him which 
 compensated for his lack of conversational brilliancy. 
 Moreover, his serious solicitude for Gertrude, and his dog- 
 like devotion in spite of rebuffs, filled Aleck with kind- 
 ness for him. 
 
 The story of Aleck's quarrel with the doctor had, by 
 this time, gone abroad in several distorted versions. It 
 was told that Hawk had attacked his patron with a poker, 
 because the latter had accused him of making love to 
 Gertrude under the guise of professional attention. An- 
 other version was that Hawk had wished to engage Hor- 
 ace Larkin as counsel in a libel suit against his brother, 
 but that Horace had insisted upon having his retainer in 
 cash, and had asked a larger sum than the doctor could 
 raise. Nobody felt any hesitation in asking the partici- 
 pants in the affair about their share in the proceedings ; 
 but their answers tended in nowise to settle the disputed 
 points. Horace told grotesque Munchausen yarns with 
 the soberest face in the world. The doctor gave only 
 dark hints as to what might happen, and in the presence 
 of his lady friends wrapped himself in an impressive cloak 
 of mystery. Only Aleck declared frankly that the subject 
 was painful to him, and that he preferred not to discuss it. 
 
 Gossip is a form of energy which many of us are in- 
 clined to deprecate. It fulfils, however, an important 
 mission. It keeps many a wearisome community from 
 absolute stagnation and decay. The tendency to gossip is 
 a venerable Aryan inheritance. Cgesar tells us that in an- 
 
100 THE MAMMON 
 
 cient Gaul the stranger was surrounded in the market- 
 place by the curious inhabitants, and assiduously pumped, 
 until he had delivered up the last scrap of news he pos- 
 sessed ; and one can imagine how long the poor isolated 
 villagers lived on these precious bits of intelligence, exer- 
 cising the ingenuity of their dull brains in adorning and 
 varying them ad infinitum. When this gossip has grown a 
 hundred years old we call it tradition ; a little extra dis- 
 tortion makes it folk-lore and poetic. Every century that 
 slips away adds to its value, until, in due time, mytholo- 
 gists make sun-myths of it, and invest it with a profound 
 and beautiful meaning. 
 
 If this Torryville incident had occurred in an earlier 
 century, when events crowded each other less, some such 
 fate might indeed have overtaken it. As it was, it must 
 content itself with its place in the present unpretentious 
 chronicle. It did, however, prepare the way for a sensa- 
 tion which shook the town to its very foundation, and 
 caused the local daily to issue an extra in the middle of 
 the afternoon. 
 
 Early in the morning of February 23d, the day after 
 Washington's Birthday, hackman Tommy Colt, driving to 
 the depot to catch the 7.15 Western express, found, in the 
 middle of the road, a Derby hat with a hole in the crown, 
 which had evidently been made with some sharp instru- 
 ment. On picking it up he found that it was bloody, and 
 that a tuft of blonde hair and a substance resembling brain 
 and crushed bone adhered to the inside of the lining, where 
 it had been pierced by the deadly weapon. A further in- 
 spection revealed to his horrified eyes the initials A. L. 
 stamped in gilt letters on the lining, and he was not slow 
 in jumping to the conclusion that the hat belonged to 
 Alexander Larkin. 
 
 The whole story of the latter's quarrel with Dr. Hawk, 
 with all the latest embellishments, darted through Tommy 
 Colt's brain. He reflected briefly on the consequences of 
 his discovery, and whether he would like to see the doc- 
 tor hung on his testimony. He concluded, after a while, 
 that he would rather not, but feared that, in case he pre- 
 varicated, he might cast suspicion upon himself. In or- 
 der, however, to "share the responsibility of discovery with 
 the next comer, he put the hat back where he had found 
 it, jumped up on his box, and drove to the Larkin man- 
 sion. There he demanded and obtained an interview with 
 Horace, who was just coming down to breakfast. 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. IOI 
 
 " Is Mr. Aleck at home ? " Tommy Ooii inquired, 'with 
 chattering teeth, by way of overture. 
 
 "No ; he went to New York last night by the 11.15 ex ' 
 press." 
 
 Tommy Colt, with great deliberation, took the quid out 
 of his mouth and put it in his vest pocket. His teeth 
 chattered so that he could hardly speak. 
 
 "You hain't heard from him sence ? " he managed to 
 stammer. 
 
 " No ; why do you ask ? " 
 
 " I reckon you'd better come outside with me," Tommy 
 observed, taking the lawyer familiarly by the arm. He 
 felt a pity for him which obliterated all sense of social 
 station. 
 
 " Good Lord, man, what do you mean ? " cried Horace, 
 his face white with horror. " Has he come to harm ? " 
 
 " Mebbe he has," answered the hackman, clenching his 
 teeth hard after each word, "and mebbe he hain't." 
 
 Horace grabbed a hat from the hat-rack and rushed 
 into the street. He seemed to be wrestling with a fright- 
 ful nightmare, and half-suspecting that he might wake up 
 and find that he had been dreaming. 
 
 " Now tell me what has happened," he thrust forth, 
 breathlessly. 
 
 Tommy Colt related the incident of the finding of the 
 hat, and volunteered to drive Horace to the spot, where it 
 was probably yet lying. Three laborers and half a dozen 
 unkempt children had, in the meanwhile, scented the sen- 
 sation, and a dozen more were coming, at an uneven trot, 
 across the empty lots. 
 
 It was a raw morning with slate-colored skies, dripping 
 roofs, and dirty patches of snow melting in the hollows of 
 the brown fields and along the edges of the ditches that 
 skirted the black railroad tracks. Here and there a bit 
 of meadow was half submerged and mirrored the dismal 
 skies in its shallow pools. A cold, shivering moisture per- 
 vaded everything. It silvered your mustache with tiny 
 water-drops ; it stole through the texture of your thickest 
 ulster ; it insinuated itself into your very bones, and made 
 you feel as if you never could grow warm again. The 
 roads, which were a sea of slush and mud, expanded in 
 many places into the neighboring fields, and every rail- 
 road hack tnat came along cut its deep ruts a little beyond 
 the semi-circle made by its predecessors. Two ugly squatty 
 buildings, looking as if they had been soaked in filthy 
 
102 
 
 THE MAMMON 
 
 toatef,' stmr6iinded t>y -"dripping lumber piles, debris of coal, 
 and a network of tracks and "switches," exhibited half- 
 obliterated signs which indicated that they were railroad 
 depots ; and the proximity of two elevated water-tanks, a 
 multitude of freight-cars, a smoke-begrimed grain-ele- 
 vator, and some white-painted structures resembling gal- 
 lows, and warning you to " Beware of the Locomotive 
 while the Bell is Ringing," served further to emphasize 
 the suggestion. 
 
 It was to this scene of desolation that Horace was con- 
 ducted by Tommy Colt. He sat drearily staring into the 
 murky air, striving vainly to shake off the numb despair 
 which held him in its clutch. The calamity seemed so in- 
 conceivable, so cruel, so overwhelming. Tommy Colt 
 had to speak twice to him, as he stepped into the middle of 
 the road, where the railroad laborers and the children 
 were standing, gazing with a vague gratification at the in- 
 teresting object. Horace stepped out at last and stared 
 with a hard, old-looking face at the people. He shuddered 
 with cold and with horror. Then he stooped to pick up 
 the hat. The circle around him narrowed, and with cran- 
 ing necks and straining eyes they pressed as near as pos- 
 sible to watch for exciting developments. Tommy Colt, 
 with a proud sense of his prominence in the affair, el- 
 bowed his way to the centre and obligingly raised the hat 
 on the handle of his whip. " If that ain't Aleck's hat 
 I'll be blowed," he said, rather unfeelingly; "it's got 
 Barber & White's mark on it. It's a two dollar and a half 
 Derby, and I seen Aleck buy it myself at Barber & 
 White's, a year ago last election." 
 
 Tommy had by this time conquered his tendency to 
 shiver, and was ready to assert himself as his importance 
 warranted. His words, however, had an unforeseen effect 
 upon Horace. They pierced his benumbing lethargy and 
 aroused his faculties. The question whether it was actu- 
 ally Aleck's hat began to interest him, and having deter- 
 mined that it was, he asked himself whether it was prob- 
 able that he would choose an old Derby, of last year's 
 fashion, when he was going to New York. He remem- 
 bered that Aleck had been in the habit of keeping this 
 hat at the office, where anybody might have carried it off 
 without attracting attention. He had even a faint suspi- 
 cion that the hair adhering to the clotted blood was a 
 shade darker than his brother's. Was it not possible that 
 the person who had been murdered had stolen Aleck's 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 1 03 
 
 hat, or possibly in some other way gotten possession of 
 it ? These theories, whatever they were worth, appealed 
 to his judicial ingenuity, and though not dispelling his 
 fears, eased the intolerable sense of oppression. Without 
 uttering a word he took his seat again in the hack and or- 
 dered Tommy to drive him to the telegraph office. There 
 were but two hotels in New York to which Aleck would 
 be likely to go, and if he was at either of them, he would 
 be prompt to answer. 
 
 "Ain't yer goin' to take that hat to the police?" in- 
 quired Tommy, anxiously. 
 
 "No." 
 
 " I'll be blowed ef it ain't Aleck's, he repeated, eagerly. 
 "Didn't I tell ye I seen him buy it?" 
 
 " You did." 
 
 Tommy had acquired a sense of proprietorship in the 
 sensation, and was determined not to have it belittled or 
 explained away. He was not going to be defrauded of his 
 glory by any lawyer's trick. 
 
 "I guess ye don't feel good," he observed, as he tight- 
 ened the reins and whipped up his sorry nags. 
 
 Having despatched his two telegrams, Horace dis- 
 charged the hackman and returned home. He found his 
 uncle seated alone at his breakfast. His strong molars were 
 laboring over the beefsteak with a business-like regularity, 
 showing the working of the muscles at the base of the jaws 
 and a sympathetic movement in the temples, whenever he 
 brought his teeth together. He nodded to Horace as he 
 entered, but gave him no other greeting. The combined 
 odors of beefsteak, buckwheat cakes, and maple syrup, 
 which at other times were so agreeable to the nephew's 
 nostrils, made him now almost faint. He took his seat, 
 however, and ordered a cup of coffee. He strove to ex- 
 hibit no sign of excitement in the old gentleman's presence, 
 because he meant to have him finish his breakfast in peace. 
 
 "Did you foreclose that Ruppert mortgage in Wayne 
 County ?" Mr. Larkin inquired, pulling some papers out of 
 his pocket and making some memoranda with a pencil on 
 the back of a letter. 
 
 " It was attended to, sir," Horace replied, gazing 
 vaguely at the Three Christian Graces, with the abnor- 
 mally big eyes, which hung over the mantelpiece. 
 
 " Do you think that $2,500 mortgage on the Hallett 
 farm in Wisconsin is good ?" the uncle went on, while he 
 folded the buttered buckwheats with his fork and made 
 
IO4 THE MAMMON 1 
 
 them disappear with absent-minded despatch. Like most 
 Americans, he ate in order to live, and was as remote as 
 possible from reversing the proposition. 
 
 " I wrote to the lawyer in Racine about it, and expect 
 a reply to-day," the nephew answered. He, too, had 
 fallen to eating, in order not to make himself conspicuous 
 by abstention. But he seemed to be having an immoder- 
 ate labor in swallowing ; he would have put syrup on his 
 steak, if the waitress had not prevented him ; he could dis- 
 tinguish no difference in taste between meat and buck- 
 wheats. When the old gentleman had finished simultan- 
 eously his second cup of coffee and his memoranda, he 
 got up and walked, with a slight stiifness in the knees, 
 toward the library. Horace, too, pushed his plate away 
 and followed him. A little business conference after 
 breakfast was a regular incident of the day, and Mr. 
 Larkin did not trouble himself to look up, as his attorney 
 seated himself on the other side of his desk. 
 
 " There's some little excitement in town this morning," 
 Horace began. 
 
 "What's up?" 
 
 " It may concern us, and it may not," Horace replied, 
 without a tremor in his voice ; "a hat has been found on 
 the road to the depot." 
 
 "Well, what of that? Some drunken fool probably 
 lost it." 
 
 " The hat appears to be Aleck's." 
 
 Mr. Larkin raised his head slowly and stared at his 
 nephew with a strained expression. Through the rigid 
 lines of his face struggled a vague demand to know the 
 worst at once and have it over. 
 
 " Don't try to spare me," he said ; " is he dead ? " 
 
 " I don't believe it," Horace rejoined, energetically. " I 
 have a feeling that he is not dead." 
 
 " Anyway, don't let Gertie know anything about it ; it 
 would be an awful set-back to her. Tell the servants not 
 to say a word to her." 
 
 At the mention of Gertrude's name, the same thought 
 flashed through the old and the young man's brain, and 
 their eyes met in a significant glance of understanding. 
 It was a sickening thought, and one which they would 
 willingly have repelled. 
 
 "God have mercy on us, miserable sinners," Mr. Lar- 
 kin sighed, as he stalked out into the hall and pulled on 
 his overcoat. 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 1 05 
 
 Outside of the house the street was black with people. 
 The usually quiet town was all excitement and commo- 
 tion. All along the board sidewalks poured a dense 
 stream of humanity down toward the scene of the tragedy. 
 There was an animation in their gestures and bearing 
 which contrasted with their wonted dulness and lethargy. 
 Elderly men who usually moved at a snail's pace, ran ; 
 slow-witted grocers and drygoods and hardware men 
 grew bright under the stimulus of the excitement, and ex- 
 hausted themselves in ingenious conjectures as to manner, 
 motives, and circumstances of the murder. Dr. Hawk's 
 name was freely bandied about ; and what had at first 
 been whispered as a remote suspicion was soon discussed 
 as a probability which admitted of no cavil. Aleck was a 
 universally popular man, and was known to have had no 
 enemy in the world but Hawk. The latter, it was main- 
 tained, was, nobody knew who a suspicious character of 
 mythical antecedents. Nobody ought to be surprised if 
 such a man turned out to be a criminal. It was demand- 
 ed by several influential citizens that the doctor be forth- 
 with arrested ; but Judge Wolf, who was the only judge 
 in town, cooled their zeal, and begged them to wait until 
 some positive proof had been obtained. In the mean- 
 while he consented to have two policemen detailed to 
 watch Hawk and prevent his escape, in case he should at- 
 tempt to leave the town. 
 
 Old Mr. Larkin's gray head, surmounted by the inevita- 
 ble rusty beaver, made a sensatio'n wherever it appeared. 
 It was thought strange at first that he was not too pros- 
 trated by grief to interest himself in tracking the murderer. 
 But the sentiment gradually predominated that the vin- 
 dictive enterprise he displayed was more in keeping with 
 his character, and therefore commendable. He was not a 
 man who loved to sit still ; all his sentiments, whether 
 painful or joyous, acted as a propelling force to set him in 
 motion. Discarding his nephew's arm, he started at a 
 brisk pace down the plank-walk, elbowing his way through 
 the dense throng of people who stood ankle-deep in 
 mud, seeing nothing except the backs of their neighbors' 
 heads, and yet animated and buoyed up with a half-grati- 
 fied excitement. There were a thousand people at the 
 very least, and more were constantly arriving. The stores 
 on the main street had been closed in order to give clerks 
 and proprietors an opportunity to assist at the clearing up 
 of the mystery ; and the professors, in the University had 
 
IC>6 THE MAMMON 
 
 dismissed their classes and given a general holiday. In 
 acknowledgment of this concession they were greeted, 
 wherever any of them appeared, with the peculiar Univer- 
 sity yell, and sometimes inadvertently pushed into the 
 gutter by a company of students who came storming, four 
 abreast, along the crowded plank-walks. But they were 
 well accustomed to such amenities, and usually bore them 
 without display of temper. When, however, the founder 
 collided with such a squad of noisy under-graduates, threat- 
 ening demonstrations were apt to follow. Mr. Larkin hav- 
 ing founded the University with his own hard-earned 
 money, was of the opinion that the University, in return, 
 owed him gratitude and respect. Having himself never 
 been in a university, he was unable to comprehend the 
 students' view of the case, viz., that they conferred a favor 
 upon the Larkin University by selecting it as the recipient 
 of their patronage, out of the great number which were 
 anxious to attract them. Being, however, well acquainted 
 with Mr. Larkin's sentiments on the subject, they neglect- 
 ed no opportunity to disabuse him ; hostilities, of a more 
 or less overt kind, were continually being exchanged. 
 
 It was after various vain attempts to assert his authority 
 that the old gentleman reached the spot, where the bloody 
 hat was still an object of interested scrutiny. He had 
 nerved himself for the ordeal, and had conquered his dis- 
 position to shudder. The general excitement had entered 
 into his brain and pushed the personal bearing of the case 
 into the dim background. He read the letters A. Z. with 
 a vague tumult of the blood, but without horror or keen 
 regret. He touched the hat with his stout stick, turned 
 it over, and examined it as a detective might. 
 
 '* You don't remember if Aleck wore that hat when he 
 started for the depot ?" he said to Horace, ,who kept close 
 at his elbow. 
 
 " No, I didn't see him start," the latter replied. 
 
 "Whether it is he or not it is somebody has been 
 killed." 
 
 " No doubt about that." 
 
 "And the body must be somewhere. Suppose we try to 
 find it?" 
 
 Somebody had in the meanwhile discovered bloody 
 finger-marks on a telegraph pole, and the intelligence was 
 eagerly passed from mouth to mouth with appropriate 
 comments. Instantly the crowd began to surge in that 
 direction across the water-soaked lot, and Mr. Larkin and 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. IO/ 
 
 Horace followed the general impulse. At every step their 
 feet sank into the wet sod and made a sucking sound when 
 they strove to recover them. A cold, drizzling rain was 
 beginning to fall ; the leaden skies trailed their vapory 
 curtains along the encompassing hills, and the valley was 
 steeped in dismal moisture and mist. Yet the enterprise 
 of the leading spirits of the crowd was baffled by no dis- 
 couragements. Tommy Colt, who had been the first to 
 detect the finger-marks, was leading a reconnoitering 
 party which with excited exclamations were pointing out 
 the tracks of two men, the prints of whose boots were visi- 
 ble in the sod. They had apparently now dragged, now 
 carried, a heavy body between them, and the depressions 
 in the turf showed plainly where they had dropped and 
 where resumed their ghastly burden. At the sight of this 
 unmistakable evidence Mr. Larkin started forward in ad- 
 vance of the rest, staring with dilated eyes at the ground. 
 Tommy Colt felt himself superseded, but dared not demur. 
 The old man paced across the half-submerged meadow, 
 now sticking in the mud, now again by vigorous efforts 
 advancing. In one place, where there were half-effaced 
 traces of blood upon the grass, he stopped and poked the 
 ferrule of his cane into the crimson sod. An unfeeling 
 agitation, akin to that which seized the Romans at the sight 
 of the gladiatorial games, had come over him, and the 
 thought that the body which had crimsoned this sod might 
 be that of one who had been dear to him, had no place in 
 his mind. The tracks led toward a deep and sluggish 
 stream (by the students called the Nile) into which two con- 
 siderable creeks emptied. The Nile wound through a low 
 and marshy delta toward the lake. Thither then poured 
 the dense multitude under Mr. Larkin's lead, dripping 
 with wet, shivering to the marrow of their bones, and yet 
 bent upon losing no share of the sanguinary horror. On 
 the banks of the stream, which was swollen from recent 
 thaws, they came to a stop, and Mr. Larkin called loudly 
 for boats and drag-nets. A couple of dozen volunteers 
 rushed toward the boat-houses, and descending suddenly 
 upon the floating pier, upset it and floundered for some 
 moments in the icy water. When they were fished out, 
 others proceeded more carefully to launch the boats ; drag- 
 nets were procured and a systematic search began. Mr. 
 Larkin, standing upon an inverted drygoods box which 
 some kindly soul had brought him, gesticulated with his 
 stick and shouted at the top of his voice. Every now and 
 
1O8 THE MAMMON 
 
 then, as he was in the midst of an important command, 
 the exasperating University yell, sounded by knots of the 
 students, scattered in the crowd, would drown his voice and 
 try his temper. He felt repeatedly tempted to knock 
 down with his cane the first student that came in his way. 
 For a full hour the old man stood on his drygoods box 
 in the rain, shouting his directions to the searchers. The 
 water dripped from his beard, from his nose, and from the 
 rim of his hat. And yet he was not cold. The excite- 
 ment hurried his blood at a quickened speed through his 
 veins. As the drag-nets seemed to bring nothing to the 
 surface except bull-heads and perch, a small dredging 
 machine which lay at the mouth of the stream was ordered 
 up, and by the noisy puffing of its steam-engine added to 
 the turmoil and seemed to give an audible expression to 
 the excitement. But though it brought a variety of 
 things to the light, such as demoralized hoop-skirts, tree- 
 roots, and various kitchen utensils from a sunken canal- 
 boat (all of which were hailed with the University yell), 
 it revealed nothing which had any bearing upon the 
 mystery. Another hour passed and another. It was about 
 noon when two boats, which had trailed a drag-net a con- 
 siderable distance up the stream, struck something which 
 by "the feel of it " might be a human body. The discovery 
 was promptly communicated to Mr. Larkin, who started 
 to run up the bank while the mud splashed about his ears, 
 followed by the dripping and shivering multitude. The 
 floating pier, again upsetting, gave an icy mud-bath to a score 
 of people, but so great was the excitement that scarcely 
 anybody, except the unfortunates themselves, gave any 
 heed to it. Slowly, amid breathless silence, the net ap- 
 proached the surface. Anxious suspense was depicted on 
 every face. Mr. Larkin dropped his cane and, with strain- 
 ing eyes and loudly thumping heart, leaned out over the 
 stream, following the motions of the men. Now but 
 another moment now an indistinct something shimmers 
 through the water. There it is it is a body oh, God, 
 what is it ? It is a calf ! A burst of Homeric laughter rose 
 from one part of the crowd that part which contained the 
 students. No one else laughed; least of all Mr. Larkin. 
 He descended from his station of command in a wrathful 
 mood. He thrust his cane so hard into the mud that he 
 had to stop to pull it out. Nobody dared to speak to him; 
 he felt a burning need of vengeance upon somebody. He 
 suddenly remembered that a petition of the students had 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 109 
 
 been shown him, some days ago, by a member of the faculty, 
 asking for a holiday on the day following Washington's 
 Birthday, as it happened to be a Friday, and many students 
 desired to spend this little vacation in their homes. He 
 remembered also that he had promptly vetoed the proposi- 
 tion (he rather liked to veto propositions coming from the 
 students), and the faculty had, as usual, registered his de- 
 cree. It required no great ingenuity to guess the rest. 
 The students, in order to thwart him and get their holiday, 
 had perpetrated this bogus murder. Learning by accident 
 that Aleck was going to New York, they had gotten 
 possession of one of his old hats, stolen a calf from a 
 neighboring farm, killed it on the road to the depot, 
 dragged it over the empty lots, and thrown it into the Nile. 
 To Mr. Larkin this plot had no humorous aspect. It 
 represented the deepest depth of human depravity. He 
 was prepared to see every man who had participated in it 
 find his legitimate end on the gallows. If he only knew 
 who the miscreants were, he would show them that he, 
 too, could be a successful humorist ; and not a mother's 
 son of them but should carry to the end of his days the 
 remembrance of the joke he would play upon him. He 
 meant to teach those audacious vagabonds a lesson which 
 would cure them of all future desire to trifle with his 
 dignity. He meditated for some moments o,n the practi- 
 cability of cancelling the charter of the University. But 
 that required legislative action, and would, moreover, 
 expose him to no end of ridicule. It was, perhaps, better 
 first to discover the guilty parties, and have them summar- 
 ily punished. Only that appeared to Mr. Larkin rather a 
 lame and inadequate retribution. To him the one was just 
 as guilty as the other, whether cognizant of the plot or 
 not, and he hungered for vengeance upon the whole Uni- 
 versity. While he was revolving his vindictive plans a 
 company of students came strolling along the plank-walk. 
 They fell into single file, and each one of them lifted his 
 hat and greeted the founder with demure politeness. Ah, 
 but that was a trying moment for the Hon. Obed Larkin ! 
 He saw or seemed to see a gleam of amusement lurking in 
 every eye that was raised to his. He faced half about, 
 with clenched teeth and his legs wide apart, and grabbed 
 the stout silver handle of his cane with a convulsive clutch. 
 He felt an enthusiastic desire to assault them to have it 
 out with them on the spot. But at that very instant Ara- 
 bella Robbins and Pussy Dallas came tripping along under 
 
110 THE MAMMON 
 
 the same umbrella, and as they saw the wrathful Obed 
 they chirruped gayly : "How do you do, Mr. Larkin?" 
 That brought him quickly to his senses. He could not 
 afford to be seen in a free fight with the students of his 
 University upon the common highway. He growled an 
 ungracious return to the girls' greeting, swore a volumin- 
 ous oath in the depth of his soul, and faced once more 
 toward the town. As he entered his library, his wife 
 handed him a telegram from Aleck, informing him of his 
 safe arrival in New York and his probable return on the 
 following day. 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. Ill 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 The Hon. Obed Larkin caught a severe cold, which 
 threatened to develop into pneumonia, in consequence of 
 his strategic operations on the banks of the Nile. He had 
 an instinctive feeling that the town was laughing at him, and 
 having become accustomed to look upon himself as an 
 august personage, he could not endure the thought that 
 his name was being taken in vain. He had no pride 
 either of birth or blood, but he liked to pose a little as a 
 representative American a self-made man, owing every- 
 thing to his own ability and exertions ; and he was apt to 
 find himself in this capacity an impressive and dignified 
 character. His fellow-citizens had humored him in this 
 conceit until it had become part of his being. And now, 
 in order to shirk their own share in the foolish business, 
 they made him their scapegoat and laughed at him with 
 amused superiority, as if they had seen through the joke 
 from the beginning. 
 
 When the danger of pneumonia was past, Mr. Larkin 
 was laid up for a week with an attack of rheumatism, 
 which he also traced to the unhappy Nile expedition. 
 The purpose of getting even with the students had by this 
 time become an idee fixe with him ; and, like the pious 
 vEneas, he revolved a good many impious projects in his 
 sleepless nights. He finally directed Horace to write 
 to the Pinkerton Bureau for two expert detectives, who 
 might enter some special department in the university, 
 get into the confidence of the students, and procure evi- 
 dence for the conviction of the guilty parties. It took 
 Horace a week of ingenious argument and persuasion to 
 induce his uncle to give up this unworthy scheme, and he 
 used to say, in after years, that he had never argued a 
 more difficult case before any court. That Aleck joined 
 his persuasions to those of his brother had very little 
 weight with the old gentleman, because he held Aleck's 
 practical judgment in light esteem. 
 
112 THE MAMMON 
 
 The faculty of the university had, in the meanwhile, 
 with Mr. Larkin's consent, taken up the affair, and 
 begun a trial, which soon degenerated into broad bur- 
 lesque. A mass of the most bewilderingly contradictory 
 evidence was elicited which would have driven to despair 
 the astutest judge in Christendom. One rural-looking 
 sophomore, whose mind seemed as dense as his vocabulary 
 was limited, testified that he had frequently killed calves 
 and knew how it was done, but disclaimed all knowledge 
 of the present case. When asked what his character and 
 standing were in the university, he replied that his char- 
 acter was licentious. Such frankness naturally astounded 
 the learned faculty, and they were inclined to believe that 
 they had at last caught one of the transgressors, when it 
 occurred to Professor Wharton to ask the witness what 
 he meant by the term "licentious." The youth replied 
 that he had taken more license than he ought to have 
 done, absenting himself from dull lectures and recitations, 
 such as Professor P 's and Professor N 's. 
 
 " I guess I've cut you more'n anybody," he added, guile- 
 lessly, to his questioner, at which, to Professor Wharton's 
 great annoyance, a perceptible snicker ran around the 
 room. 
 
 There was some dispute when this young man had been 
 dismissed, as to whether he was as innocent as he ap- 
 peared. About thirty more witnesses were called, and 
 rigidly cross-examined ; but it soon became obvious that 
 there was a conspiracy among them to " guy " their pros- 
 ecutors, and, as the latter had no judicial authority and 
 could not punish for " contempt," they could not prevent 
 the students from getting the better of them. A few of 
 the professors, who were gifted with more zeal than 
 humor, plumped right into the traps which had been set 
 for them, lost their temper, and gave occasion for the most 
 farcical proceedings. The only thing which was estab- 
 lished by the trial was the fact that six students, whose 
 names were ascertained, had met, the evening before the 
 untimely taking off of the calf, in the so-called Bayerhof, 
 a temperance restaurant, kept by a voluminous German 
 named Schnabel. This Schnabel, who had formerly kept a 
 beer saloon, was a thorn in the flesh of the good temper- 
 ance people of the town ; as it was more than suspected 
 that he was growing rich by violation of the excise law. 
 Although the town had, at the last election, voted " no 
 license," this impudent foreigner still flaunted a jolly 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 113 
 
 Gambrinus riding on a beer-keg in the face of an outraged 
 community. That students visited his place in the small 
 hours of the night for the sake of procuring coffee and 
 lemonade seemed a little incredible, though Schnabel 
 himself maintained, with a sober face, that such was the 
 case. 
 
 " De yoong beoples, dey set up in de nide unt read for 
 dem egsaminations ; unt dey get hoongry dem poor poys 
 unt dey gome to me, unt dey say to me : 'Mishter Schna- 
 bel, gib us ein stiick Frankfurter sausage mit coffee unt 
 Schweitzer kase unt bretzel/ Unt mein vife unt me, ve 
 haf to get up oud of der varm bet unt fry Frankfurter 
 wurst for dem hoongry poys vhen deir landladies' noses 
 snores in deir billows. For dem landladies vill not get up 
 to gib the poys sometings to eat in de nide, vhen dey 
 shtudy for dem egsaminations." 
 
 The plea of charity to hungry wasters of the midnight 
 oil might have been accepted as good, if the patrons of the 
 Bayerhof had belonged to that worthy class. But it was 
 notorious that the young gentlemen who roused Schnabel 
 and his spouse from their slumbers did not owe their repu- 
 tations to their eminence in scholastic pursuits. When it 
 was accordingly ascertained that six undergraduate roys- 
 terers had, on the night of Washington's Birthday, met in 
 his saloon, the virtuous wrath of the town suddenly turned 
 from the calf-slayers to Carl Schnabel, who, by selling them 
 liquor, had instigated them to evil-doing. After consulta- 
 tion with Mr. Larkin, Professors Wharton and Dowd called 
 upon the police magistrate and swore out a warrant for 
 Schnabel's arrest. The trial, which was set down for the 
 following day, was the all-absorbing topic of discussion 
 both in town and university circles. Mr. Schnabel made 
 an attempt, though a futile one, to secure Horace Larkin 
 for his counsel, and finally had to telegraph for a lawyer from 
 Rochester, as all local attorneys of any standing refused, 
 on account of his unpopularity, to defend him. The Ro- 
 chester attorney was prompt to arrive, and made haste to in- 
 terview the students upon whose testimony the case hinged. 
 
 The court-house was packed with people when Mr. 
 Schnabel was brought forward to plead. He was, of course, 
 " not guilty ; " but there was a troubled look in his eye, 
 when he saw the long rows of students whom the prosecu- 
 tion had summoned to testify against him. The first of 
 these who was called to the witness-stand relieved, however, 
 his anxiety by swearing that, as far as he knew, he had 
 
114 THE MAMMOJV 
 
 never drunk lager beer in Schnabel's temperance restau- 
 rant. 
 
 " Have you drunk anything there ? " asked the court. 
 
 "Yes." " 
 
 <4 What have you drunk ? " 
 
 " I am not sure. " 
 
 "What did you order? " queried the court, impatiently. 
 
 " Tomato catsup." 
 
 " And did you get tomato catsup ? " 
 
 " I don't know." 
 
 " How is it that you don't know ?" 
 
 " I could not swear that it was tomato catsup. I am not 
 an expert on tomato catsup." 
 
 " Are you sure it was not beer you drank ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " You are not sure ?" 
 
 " No. I am not an expert on beer." 
 
 "Not an expert on beer, hm ! Did it look like beer?" 
 
 " I could not tell." 
 
 " Are you in the habit of drinking tomato catsup ? " 
 
 " Well, since the town voted ' no license ' I am obliged 
 to drink whatever I can get." 
 
 " Why, then, don't you drink water ?" 
 
 " It doesn't agree with me. Besides, I've been told that 
 the water in this town is bad." 
 
 " Are you willing to swear that you never drank beer in 
 Schnabel's restaurant ?" 
 
 " No." 
 
 " You are not willing to swear that ? Then, you must 
 be willing to swear that you have drunk beer there ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " But you don't seriously maintain that you drank tomato 
 catsup ? " 
 
 " I ordered tomato catsup." 
 
 One witness after another was now called and gave similar 
 testimony. One declared that he had never ordered any- 
 thing but Oolong tea ; and when asked if what he got 
 tasted like Oolong tea, he affirmed that he was not an ex- 
 pert on tea. Another had a standing order for "Mocha" 
 whenever he entered, and a third was always served with 
 " Java." All had such profound respect for the sanctity of 
 the oath that they were unwilling to swear that what they 
 got was beer or was not beer ; they had never made a suffi- 
 cient study of beer to justify them in having an opinion. 
 The most ludicrous answers were given with imperturbable 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 115 
 
 gravity, and were greeted by the audience with uncon- 
 trollable bursts of laughter. The judge vainly hammered 
 away at his desk with his gavel, and threatened to have the 
 court-room cleared, in case any one dared to make de- 
 monstrations inconsistent with the dignity of a tribunal of 
 justice. Nevertheless, he did not carry out his threat 
 when the next funny answer occasioned another outburst 
 of hilarity. He was quick to perceive that the sentiment 
 of the crowd had turned in favor of the young men, and 
 the severity of his mien relaxed. He did not question that, 
 in a superficial sense, they were telling the truth. Each 
 one of them had obviously agreed with Schnabel upon an 
 alias for beer, one calling it tomato catsup, another Oolong, 
 and a third Mocha. The cleverness of this dodge evidently 
 appealed to the crowd ; and the judge, who in his private 
 capacity enjoyed a joke as well as any one, could not find 
 it in his heart to be too severe on them. He therefore dis- 
 missed the case for want of proof, and Schnabel, with a sly 
 wink, resumed his activity as an apostle of the cause of tem- 
 perance. 
 
Il6 THE MAMMON 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 DIVINE DISCONTENT. 
 
 To a person who rises from a severe illness the aspect 
 of life seems often strangely changed. Common things 
 which before seemed worthless become valuable and sig- 
 nificant. The convalescent returns, like a traveller from 
 the borderland of death, and his wonted surroundings 
 have, at first, a vague air of strangeness, and have to re- 
 adjust themselves according to a changed standard of 
 valuation. 
 
 It was the merciful apathy consequent upon physical 
 exhaustion which had dulled the struggle of emotions in 
 Gertrude's breast, and thereby saved her life at a time 
 when the faintest gust of passion might have blown out 
 the feeble flame of her being. As her strength returned, 
 and her senses slowly reawakened, a light veil seemed to 
 have been drawn over her past through which memories 
 shone dimly with a shadowy pallor. She knew that 
 something of a vital character had occurred between Dr. 
 Hawk and herself, but she found it unnecessary to rouse 
 herself to a realization of what it was. The verses of Omar 
 Khayyam came floating toward her like a soundless mel- 
 ody from "an immeasurable distance," and they haunted 
 her with a nightmarish persistency, though she could only 
 remember a few detached but fascinating phrases. And 
 yet to ask the doctor to repeat them would seem like an 
 approach, on her part, and an invitation to resume sen- 
 timental relations. His comings and goings were yet 
 matters of deep concern to her, and his voice was yet po- 
 tent to charge her nerves with vibrating excitement. 
 Her interest in him seemed to return with her returning 
 strength ; and although she tried to keep it, as it were, 
 at arm's length, prohibiting it from stepping too near, she 
 was not entirely successful. The doctor's spasmodic 
 visits, which, after long absences, were crowded into a 
 single week, to be followed again by conspicuous neglect, 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 1 1/ 
 
 occupied her mind more than she suspected. Of course 
 she possessed the key to the interpretation of this strange 
 irregularity, and she could not help applying it in a way 
 that was flattering to her self-esteem. The doctor's con- 
 duct said, as plainly as actions could say it, that he was 
 struggling with an overmastering passion, which he was 
 combating with all his strength, suffering yet defeats 
 which were, to Gertrude's mind, no less honorable to his 
 character than his victories. The fact, too, that his quar- 
 rel with Aleck, which, in a distorted form reached her 
 ears, did not impel him to break off all relations with 
 a house in which he had suffered such an insult, argued 
 to her a heroic streak in his temperament. Even the 
 horrible humiliation which he had suffered in being sub- 
 jected to police surveillance for half a day, he had borne 
 in dignified silence ; and the whole ghastly farce, in which 
 he had involuntarily played a part, had roused in him no 
 desire for vengeance. Gertrude could not doubt that it 
 was his love for her which furnished the explanation of 
 this unreasonable magnanimity; and although she had 
 persuaded herself that she did not return this love, she 
 was yet vexed with Aleck for placing obstacles in its way. 
 To gain a respite from importunate thoughts, Gertrude 
 began again o sketch and to model in clay. She found 
 her abortive ttempt at a bas-relief dried and cracked on 
 the board, - d Nettie, the chambermaid, who was sent to 
 bring it d- < n from the attic lost half of it on the way. 
 It was the head of a nun and a very aristocratic one 
 who had been shut up in a convent by her wicked rela- 
 tives. A nun had always appeared to Gertrude a poetic 
 character ; and she had' once had herself photographed 
 with a hood and brow-band, to see how she would look, in 
 case she should ever decide to become one. She felt in 
 herself a capacity both for renunciation and for high- 
 minded rebellion against tyranny which could only find 
 their proper expression, if she were a nun. The fact was, 
 she felt in herself an inexhaustible capacity for any and 
 every emotion that for the moment appeared interesting. 
 Having procured fresh clay, she set to work again with 
 enthusiasm, and labored for three days, with alternations 
 of zeal and despair, at the idea which she meant to express. 
 But her criticism was always so far in advance of her skill 
 that she never could finish anything without feeling a 
 desire to smash it. She had, indeed, no doubt as to the 
 excellence of her ideas. But there was a perverse spirit 
 
Il8 THE MAMMON 
 
 in her fingers which made them decline to do what she 
 wanted them to do which made them pervert her fine in- 
 tentions into something awkward and commonplace. She 
 dipped into Ruskin in the hope of getting some guidance 
 from him, and learned incidentally that she ought to study 
 that which was near and familiar, and that the unspoiled 
 human foot was a very beautiful combination of harmon- 
 ious curves. With an impulsiveness characteristic of her 
 ardent temperament she pulled off her shoes and stock- 
 ings and began to study her feet. Yes, Ruskin was right 
 they were, on the whole, quite good. Large, full gener- 
 ous lines high instep only the little toe was a trifle dis- 
 torted and adorned with a corn. Gertrude became pos- 
 sessed with a desire to model them. She covered up her 
 nun with a damp cloth, and seizing her modelling sticks 
 carved out rapidly the shape of a foot. She drew the 
 hearth-rug of tiger-skin forward, put her chair and easel 
 upon it, and placed against the fender a mirror, in which 
 one projecting foot was clearly reflected. She stooped 
 every now and then to measure its breadth, length, and 
 width with a pair of compasses, and became so absorbed in 
 her work that she did not hear a knock at the door which 
 was several times repeated. She hummed and talked to 
 herself, making exclamations of encouragement and ap- 
 proval, or of criticism. 
 
 " Now, Gertie, that won't do," she would say as she eyed 
 a clumsily modelled form, "you know better than that." 
 Or again, when a little lightness of touch gave her pleas- 
 ure, " Gertie, my dear girl, that was well done ; I ap- 
 prove of you." 
 
 She was in the midst of such a soliloquy when the knob 
 of the door was cautiously turned, and she saw Dr. Hawk's 
 swarthy face appear in the opening. 
 
 " May I come in ? " he asked, with an expression of sur- 
 prise at seeing her occupation. "Mr. Larkin begged me 
 to pay you a professional visit." 
 
 Gertrude jumped up in confusion, and suddenly re- 
 membering the incompleteness of her toilet, threw herself 
 down on the sofa and drew her feet up under her dress. 
 It did not occur to her, until he had closed the door be- 
 hind him, that she might have prevented him from en- 
 tering. 
 
 " Excuse me," he began, as he slowly approached her ; 
 " but I supposed you were ill in bed. Your father told 
 me you had not been down to dinner." 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 119 
 
 " No, I forgot it," she answered, hastily ; " I had some- 
 thing to do." 
 
 " Forgot your dinner," he repeated, reproachfully. 
 " Then your occupation, whatever it was, must have been 
 very absorbing." 
 
 " It was quite absorbing." 
 
 His eyes fell suddenly upon the lump of wet clay in a 
 box on the floor, and the still uncovered foot on the stand. 
 
 " But, my dear young lady, what is this ? " he exclaimed, 
 pointing to these surprising objects. " Are you emulat- 
 ing Phidias ?" 
 
 " No," she replied, blushing as if she had been caught 
 at something disgraceful. " I am only killing time." 
 
 " Time I believe has always been your enemy," the doc- f 
 tor remarked. 
 
 "It is every woman's enemy, unless she knows some- 
 thing." 
 
 She picked up a sketch-book, and in order to relieve her 
 embarrassment began to turn its leaves with an air of in- 
 terest. 
 
 " You appear to have a quarrel with woman's lot in gen- 
 eral," her visitor went on tentatively. 
 
 " To a woman of spirit that is all that her lot is good for. " 
 
 " To quarrel with ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Do you then find yours so unsatisfactory ? " 
 
 "Yes I have the divine discontent" she said, raising her 
 eyes to his, and smiling vaguely. 
 
 " That is something I can't prescribe for. It is a mal- 
 ady which, like the gout, is painful, but confers a cer- 
 tain distinction." 
 
 She made no reply to this ; but seized a pencil, and be- 
 gan to scribble on a blank page of her sketch-book. He 
 turned toward the easel, upon which the covered bas-re- 
 lief was standing. Without asking permission he removed 
 the cloth, and with a look of great intentness scanned the 
 medallion. Gertrude cast glances full of veiled anxiety 
 at his face, over the top of the sketch-book. She wished 
 to appear unconcerned; but- a dim agitation was smoul- 
 dering in her nerves. 
 
 " That's a bit of autobiography, isn't it ? " said Hawk, 
 after a distressingly long pause. 
 
 " How do you mean ?" 
 
 " It is a sort of personification of the divine discon- 
 tent." 
 
I2O THE MAMMON 
 
 " Is it ? " she queried a little hypocritically ; " I wasn't 
 aware of it." 
 
 " Tell that to the marines," he retorted, brusquely. 
 " That rebellious curl of the lip I know the original of 
 that. That beautiful scorn the same that you find in the 
 lips of the Apollo Belvedere the lofty contempt for 
 life's pestiferous little meannesses I know, too, where that 
 came from. The chorus of whining, droning, and buzzing 
 dunghill insects, blending into a dull and hollow mono- 
 tone, instead of lulling her soul to sleep has made her 
 conscious of her superiority. That chin, so nobly strong 
 and stubborn, proclaims perseverance in rebellion, defiance 
 of Fate. The hood and the brow-band which hold all this 
 strength and loveliness in their dull frame are Torry- 
 ville the stolid, listless, narrowly self-satisfied Torryville, 
 where an aspiration beyond bread and butter is in man 
 an oddity and in woman a crime." 
 
 Gertrude's sketch-book had dropped in her lap ; she lis- 
 tened first with interest, then with rapture, and when he 
 had finished she sprang up, forgetful of her bare feet ; but 
 flung herself instantly down again, covering her face with 
 her hands. She was ashamed of her excitement, but could 
 not control it. Never yet had anyone spoken thus out 
 of her very heart. Never had she hoped to find in any one 
 such a subtle understanding of her innermost self. A man 
 who was gifted with so deep a vision was he to be judged 
 by the ordinary Philistine standard ? If he was different 
 from others, the difference was to his credit. The last 
 shadow of distrust of the doctor vanished from Gertrude's 
 heart. She saw with a suddenly clarified sight the gran- 
 deur of this man whom she had so long misjudged. She 
 felt his dark, sad eyes resting upon her, as she lay there 
 foolishly ashamed of her emotion. She became now, in 
 turn, ashamed of her shame ; and with an effort at self- 
 mastery rose slowly to a half-sitting posture, and fixed 
 upon the doctor a large, frank gaze, full of devotion and 
 gratitude. Hawk, who instantly felt what this glance 
 meant, turned his back upon the nun, seized a chair, and 
 seated himself close to the lounge. A gentle warmth 
 seemed to be radiating from her, and rippled beneficently 
 through his veins. If there had been a spark of simple 
 straightforward manhood in him, he could now have 
 plucked the fruit which hung trembling on its stalk, ready 
 to drop into his lap. But the flush of anticipated victory, 
 which would have made another man happily unconscious, 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 121 
 
 made Hawk conscious to his very finger-tips. He had to 
 play his little comedy, even at the risk of unforeseen 
 catastrophes. 
 
 " Miss Gertrude," he began, in a tenderly tremulous 
 bass, which betrayed traces of elocution, "if I dared speak 
 to you as my heart prompts me to speak 
 
 " Why should you not speak to me ? " she murmured, 
 blushing furiously. 
 
 " Ah, my child, you do not know me ! you do not know 
 me ! " he muttered, in a despairing voice. 
 
 "Yes, I do know you," she protested, warmly, lifting 
 upon him a look of affectionate reassurance. He met her 
 gaze firmly ; but there was nothing but a cold and some- 
 what forced melancholy in the glance with which he strove 
 to respond. A dissonance a shadow something too im- 
 palpable for words to express, stole in between them. 
 
 Suddenly, like the going out of a spark, the tender light 
 in her eyes was quenched, leaving a chilly vacuum in its 
 place. 
 
 " Miss Gertrude," he said, in a voice that shook with 
 pleading humility ; " do not judge me, do not judge me, 
 until I tell you all." 
 
 He rose with slow and deliberate movements, seized his 
 hat and stalked toward the door. A dramatic exit he did 
 not fail to achieve, even though the scene which led up to 
 it may have been unsatisfactory. No sooner had the door 
 closed behind him than Gertrude jumped up in a tumult 
 of anger, confusion, and shame, ran toward the bed and 
 flinging herself on the top of the counterpane buried her 
 burning face in the pillows. Her head was in a whirl. 
 She lay thus for a while in a benumbed lethargy, through 
 which a dull pain was throbbing. She could not make 
 clear to herself what had happened or whether anything 
 had happened ; she only had an aching sense of humilia- 
 tion and a dim desire to hurt somebody in return for the 
 hurt she had suffered. She had actually been ready to 
 throw herself into that man's embrace, if he had but 
 opened his arms to receive her. She had, under the im- 
 pression that he needed encouragement, almost invited 
 him to propose to her and he had coolly repelled her. 
 But was it really true that he had repelled her ? Ger- 
 trude's heart found itself, before long, pleading the doc- 
 tor's cause, trying to convince itself that he had really 
 meant no harm. Men had a way of misrepresenting their 
 own intentions by sheer awkwardness. How could he, 
 
122 THE MAMMON 
 
 who knew so well her worth, who had in such beautiful 
 words interpreted her innermost longings, how could he 
 wish to repel her ? No, it was merely his foolish loyalty, 
 his sense of obligation, to that wretched girl who had in- 
 vested her money in him and taken a chattel mortgage on 
 his affections, it was this which had made him behave so 
 abominably. Gertrude arose with this consoling reflec- 
 tion, dipped her face in cold water at the washstand, and 
 rang for her maid. When her toilet was completed she 
 ordered her phaeton ; but after a moment's deliberation 
 countermanded the order, and sat down to work at her 
 medallion. But, somehow, she could not summon any in- 
 terest in the work. Her nun with the disdainful lips 
 seemed a hideous caricature. The more she looked at 
 her the more insufferable she became. There was a re- 
 vival of angry feeling in Gertrude's breast as she sat con- 
 templating her cherished creation. All the doctor's fine 
 phrases recurred to her, one by one, and her hard-won 
 equanimity deserted her. In a fit of disgust she seized 
 the modelling sticks,, and made a deep gash in the face of 
 her counterfeit. 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 123 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 TROUBLED WATERS. 
 
 The sun was bright and the air was filled with the rush 
 of many waters. Down through the deep ravines swollen 
 creeks came tumbling, plunging with a thundering boom 
 over the rocky precipices, hurrying heedlessly on with 
 noisy brawl and strife, seething and swirling in the smooth, 
 black caldrons, blowing hissing gusts of spray through 
 the bare tree-tops, whirling, dancing, rolling, and rumbling 
 on, hurling their great tawny torrents down the slope, 
 winding in tortuous eddies through the plain below, and 
 emptying through a ramified delta into the lake, where 
 their progress was still traceable as a broad, brown cur- 
 rent, slowly blending into the clearer encompassing waters. 
 Up among the leafless underbrush rose a tiny chorus of 
 rippling and tinkling murmurs now a gay little glassy 
 treble, now a hushed little gurgling hum from diminutive 
 rills that meandered at their own sweet will under the tree- 
 roots and over the stones, uniting and separating again, 
 vanishing under the bowlders, and glinting again in the 
 sunlight, playing hide and seek with each other, until all 
 of a sudden their slender lives were lost in the wildly 
 hurrying torrent. 
 
 The air was raw, in spite of the sun. Wandering gusts 
 of warm dampness kept careering through the atmosphere 
 and stroked your face like a caress ; but from the great 
 icy caverns under the Drum-Head Fall, where the blue 
 icicles yet hung in solid columns, an insidious chill per- 
 vaded the very sunlight, warning you against a rash confi- 
 dence in the promises of spring. 
 
 Gertrude Larkin, having exhausted the allurements of 
 the plastic art, had yielded to a vague restlessness in her 
 blood, and had started out on foot toward the Drum-Head 
 Ravine, where she concluded the trailing arbutus must 
 now be in bloom. It seemed to her that this winter had 
 lasted a century, and she hungered for a whiff of spring. 
 She was weary of thinking of Dr, Hawk, with his incal- 
 
124 THE MAMMON 
 
 culable capers weary of hating, and weary of loving him 
 weary of inventing reasons for his enigmatical actions 
 weary of her own weariness weary of everything. She 
 loathed Dr. Hawk, she loathed herself, she loathed the 
 whole world. But in that frame of mind she found it im- 
 possible to sit still ; and driven by an impulse to move, 
 she had found her way to the ravine. On the bridge, 
 under which there was a great swash of whirling and tos- 
 sing waters, she met the Rev. Arthur Robbir.s, who, arrayed 
 in a new spring overcoat and a shining beaver of the latest 
 fashion, was picking his way along the little dry path at 
 the edge of the road. 
 
 "Well, Miss Gertrude," he said, lifting his hat and shak- 
 ing off a drop of water which some heedless tree had de- 
 posited on it. " I am glad to see the roses returning." 
 
 " I have not seen them yet, Mr. Robbins," she replied ; 
 "they never come until June." 
 
 " Ah, my child, I meant the roses in your cheeks," ejacu- 
 lated the parson, cheerily. 
 
 The doctor's haunting quotation, " I sometimes think 
 that never blooms so red the rose as where some buried 
 Caesar bled," flitted through her mind; and as no appro- 
 priate remark occurred to her, she leaned over the railing 
 and stared at the water. Mr. Robbins, who also discovered 
 something to interest him in the brown torrent, put one 
 neatly-shod foot on the middle rail and leaning forward 
 followed with his eyes the swirling rapids. 
 
 " It is not quite well with you yet, Miss Gertie," he said, 
 after a while ; "you have something on your mind some- 
 thing that distresses you." 
 
 '* That I have always had, as long as I can remember," 
 she answered, with forced lightness; " I cannot recall the 
 time when I was not distressed about something. There 
 are some people, you know, who happen to put the wrong 
 foot foremost when they enter the world and are unable to 
 rectify the mistake by anything they do afterward. I am 
 one of those people." 
 
 " My dear girl," the clergyman went on, while watching 
 with visible interest the gyrations of a dry branch in an 
 eddy, "I don't know that I have any business to pry into 
 your secrets, especially as you have always rebuffed me. 
 But I can't help taking an interest in you, you know. The 
 life you lead is unnatural for a young girl it is not whole- 
 some not as it ought to be." 
 
 There was a note of sincere friendliness in this apolo- 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 125 
 
 getic remonstrance which touched Gertrude. Was it pos- 
 sible that there was help here for her trouble ? She re- 
 spected Mr. Robbins as an upright and kind-hearted man ; 
 but she had never suspected in him any sympathy with 
 her own complex and intangible afflictions. Besides, she 
 vaguely objected to him as the father of Arabella, whose 
 airs and capers he ought to have corrected, instead of en- 
 couraging them by petting and foolish admiration. His 
 words, however, in the present moment, appealed to some- 
 thing within her which responded, before she had time to 
 reflect upon her previous estimate of his limitations. She 
 fixed upon him her deep blue eyes with their cloudy sug- 
 gestions ; and they lighted up with a quickened anima- 
 tion. 
 
 " Tell me, Mr. Robbins," she said, quite unconscious at 
 first of the conundrum she was about to propound ; " what 
 kind of life is natural for a girl ? And is the same kind 
 natural for all girls ? Is a girl a mere specimen of her 
 sex, and has she not, like a man, a right to decide what- 
 ever kind of life may happen to suit her ?" 
 
 "My dear, we are all specimens of our sex," Mr. Rob- 
 bins observed, without a shadow of combativeness. 
 
 " I know that," Gertrude responded, with kindling zeal ; 
 "but men are valuable and peculiar specimens, each one 
 of which is labelled and studied, and not blindly lumped 
 with all the rest." 
 
 " They are not half as valuable and peculiar as women," 
 said Mr. Robbins, with a smile and a bow, in which there 
 was a touch of gallantry. 
 
 " The very tone in which you say that shows that you 
 don't mean it," she retorted, with increasing earnestness, 
 " if the mental traits of girls were thought to be of any 
 consequence, you and other good people would not do 
 your best to wipe them out, and to make each as much as 
 possible like all the rest. You would try to find out not 
 what kind of life is suitable for girls, but for this or that girl 
 who came to you for counsel." 
 
 " That is what I try in a humble way to do," the parson 
 declared, with amiable neutrality. Then he shifted his 
 position, putting his left foot up on the railing instead of 
 the right, and looked at his enigmatical parishioner with 
 kindly compassion. 
 
 " Ah, but you are so distressingly amiable, Mr. Rob- 
 bins," the girl exclaimed, with a hint of irritation. " You 
 don't even pay me the compliment to get angry with me. 
 
126 THE MAMMON 
 
 You look at me with mild disapprobation, as you would 
 at some inconvenient canary-bird that had taken it into 
 his head to chirrup about the problems of creation." 
 
 Mr. Robbins poked his cane energetically into a crevice 
 of the top rail, and loosened a knot around which the 
 wood had decayed. Having accomplished this task, he 
 brought his foot to the ground, and there came a look of 
 quickened interest into his eyes. " I won't quote the 
 Bible to you, my dear," he said, " for I don't think it 
 would do you any good. The fact is, you are rebelling 
 against the order of the universe ; and if I didn't have a 
 sneaking sympathy with your rebellion, I suppose I should 
 find the right words with which to rebuke you." 
 
 " Then you think I deserve rebuke, because I am not 
 happy." 
 
 " No doubt you do ; only I have not the heart to ad- 
 minister it." 
 
 " I wish you would, if you think it wouid benefit me. 
 Perhaps I should then be happier." 
 
 " Happy, my child, happy ! Happiness is an entirely 
 pagan idea. I doubt if the word is mentioned a single 
 time in the Bible, unless it be in the sense of heavenly 
 blessedness." 
 
 " Then Christians, you think, have no business trying to 
 be happy ? " 
 
 " No, I don't think that at all. I only think that little 
 girls should not trouble themselves about things which 
 they can't possibly comprehend." 
 
 " You mean they shouldn't trouble you with things 
 which you don't comprehend," Gertrude, in her heedless 
 zeal, was about to reply ; but she checked her tongue and 
 finished : " You mean it is not good for women to think." 
 
 " No, dear, I don't know even that I have the courage 
 to say that. On the contrary, I am aware that you think 
 some very good things only, as you say, they don't make 
 you any happier. The fact is, Miss Gertie, you are too 
 clever for your own good." 
 
 " But what would you then have me do, Mr. Robbins ?" 
 she ejaculated, not in an emotional but in a sort of argu- 
 mentative despair. 
 
 " Do ? Why, I wouldn't have you do anything, unless 
 I could get you interested in church work, in relieving the 
 wants of the poor, and contributing your mite toward 
 furtherance of the cause of Christ among the heathen. 
 That is the proper work, I think, for a girl " 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. I2/ 
 
 "Ah, there we have it again. That, you think, is the 
 proper work for a girl " 
 
 " Pardon me," he interrupted, quietly, " I was going to 
 say, for a girl, situated as you are." 
 
 "To knit stockings for the Zulus and eat strawberries 
 and ice-cream for the benefit of the South Sea Islanders ; 
 that, you think, ought to satisfy the ambition of a girl 
 situated as I am." 
 
 "You have a paradoxical way of putting things, my 
 dear ; but to extend the kingdom of Christ has satisfied 
 many a man and woman as highly gifted and as ambitious 
 as you." 
 
 There was a sudden note of authority in this final ad- 
 monition which startled the girl. By the same process by 
 which, after having drifted with the age, he pulled him- 
 self suddenly back to his orthodox moorings, he now put 
 all weak sympathy to flight, and planted himself squarely 
 on biblical ground. He had had the same experience a 
 hundred times before ; but his kindly and tolerant nature 
 could never quite learn the lesson that any parley with 
 the spirit of the age leads only to inconsistency and sur- 
 render. And yet there was in the depth of his heart a 
 tormenting doubt which made him linger irresolutely, 
 although he desired to be gone. Was it his fault or was 
 it hers that his words struck no responsive chord in her 
 soul, brought her no help in her perplexities? He hoped 
 it was hers ; but he was by no means sure of it. And yet, 
 he understood her so well ; might have entered so deeply 
 into her state of mind, which was not alien to him. But 
 if he had done that, what would have become of his cleri- 
 cal dignity ? The uneasy sense of his duty to assert him- 
 self in that and not in his personal capacity was indeed 
 the cause of his failure in this, as in many other cases. 
 "Were I but a priest," he sighed to himself, for the thou- 
 sandth time ; " had I but the spirit, the voice, and the au- 
 thority of a priest of God !" 
 
 He would have liked to part from Gertrude w r ith a 
 strong and resonant word in which there were peace and 
 elevation. But these organ notes of consolation, though 
 they often haunted him and seemed close within his reach, 
 never vibrated through his voice ; never stole as an in- 
 spiration into his words and lifted them above kindly com- 
 monplace. And so, in the present instance, he could but 
 lift his shining hat with its curling brim (it was the first 
 hat of that fashion in the town) and express the lame hope 
 
128 THE MAMMON 
 
 to his perplexed parishioner that returning health would 
 restore her wonted cheerfulness. As a grand finale that 
 was wofully weak ; and Mr. Robbins's ears burned un- 
 comfortably, as he picked his way among the mud-pud- 
 dles toward the town. 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 129 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 TRAILING ARBUTUS. 
 
 A deep, gaping fissure in the earth, a record of some 
 tremendous prehistoric convulsion, its rough edges 
 somewhat worn by ten thousand summers and winters 
 that was the Drum Head Ravine. In their grand out- 
 lines the two sides corresponded, a projection in one being 
 a hollow in the other ; but the tooth of time (which is 
 a very hard tooth) had torn and mauled the original face 
 of the rock beyond recognition. Wind and storm had 
 scratched and furrowed it ; the cold had pierced to its 
 heart and burst it, and gentle spring, who in his dealings 
 with the rock is the hardest customer of all, had stripped 
 it bare, nay, stripped it of its very skin and carried it, with 
 the rest of his plunder, down to the bottom of the ravine. 
 Summer in its pity had clothed the rock, like Joseph, in a 
 coat of many colors dull green moss and yellow, brown, 
 and scarlet lichens. In a fantastic mood he adorned its 
 head with huge plumes of fern, which grew in rank luxu- 
 riance, and were splendid to behold. But like all beauti- 
 ful things they perished, and in their death became the 
 foundation of new life. The long procession of the ages, 
 with their grand alternations of growth and decay, passed 
 over the face of the rock, froze it and scorched it, stripped 
 it and clothed it, shook, broke, rubbed, and scratched it, 
 nay, undertook a series of cosmic experiments with it 
 which left it as you see it to-day. 
 
 Pine, hemlock, oak, and maple now keep up a silent, 
 but fierce struggle for the possession of the rock. In 
 many places you see the pine and the oak in deadly com- 
 bat on the very edge of the precipice ; it looks as if the 
 pine had the worst of it, for it hangs out over the abyss, 
 while the oak with its gnarled hands seems to be holding 
 it by the hair meditating whether it shall let it drop. 
 With a desperate clutch the pine holds on to the rock, 
 and if it were not for the little brook which, from pure cu- 
 
I3O THE MAMMON 
 
 riosity, has come rippling down among its roots just to 
 see the fight it might hold its own yet for many a year. 
 
 Gertrude Larkin gazed with unawakened senses at this 
 absorbing page of the earth's history. If she had known 
 of the tremendous forces which were wrestling, if she had 
 but had the faintest clue to the wonderful drama which 
 was in progress round about her, she would never, even 
 in ill temper, have called the gorge a bore. She knew 
 something about Cicero and Virgil (the advantage of 
 knowing which she never discovered) ; she could talk 
 French fairly well, and she had a cloudy remembrance 
 of a nightmarish something called moral philosophy. 
 And here she went in the spring of the year, weary unto 
 death, starved in spirit, because her education had failed 
 to open her senses and supply her with a vital connecting- 
 link with reality. Yet there was such a fine resonance in 
 her for any strong or beautiful thought. She would have 
 rejoiced in the story of Nature's great and relentless war 
 the unending battle for the poor privilege of life 
 which was being waged in the rock, the soil, the w-ater, 
 and the air, had she but known the language in which it 
 was written. 
 
 Gertrude was thinking of what the parson had said to her, 
 and she heeded but, in a mechanical way, the difficulties 
 which the rugged path presented. She clutched now and 
 then a low-hanging bough or braced herself against the 
 trunk of a tree, when a stone rolled away from under her 
 foot and set a little landslide in motion, on its way to the 
 river. There was a resinous odor from the perspiring 
 pines, and the swelling buds of maple and oak also con- 
 tributed a faint balsamic fragrance. The sweetbriers 
 spread their thorny nakedness against the sun and blushed 
 to the very finger-tips. The brown carpet of last year's 
 leaves, which was wet and mildewed below the topmost 
 stratum, was here and there lifted by some big, purple 
 bud, tightly closed like a fist, flushed with exuberant life, 
 and sticky with rank and ill-smelling juices. 
 
 It was a toilsome path which led by all sorts of capri- 
 cious turns and windings up the rock and down the rock, 
 along the water's edge and over decaying trunks which 
 bridged temporary pools. Gertrude stopped half a dozen 
 times to consider whether she should turn about ; but 
 something in her blood beat in vague sympathy with the 
 awakening life about her, and made her aimlessly press 
 on. The little basket in her hand reminded her that she 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 131 
 
 had started out ostensibly in search of trailing arbutus ; 
 and she stooped down among the bowlders and began to 
 rummage among the dead leaves. Vines she found in 
 plenty, but flowers there were none. Only a few white 
 and blue anemones peeped forth among the tree-roots and 
 a wake-robin balanced upon its green stalk a single large 
 leaf, above which the white flower was nodding. There 
 was evidence that somebody had been ahead of her ; for 
 there were fresh tracks in the loose mould ; and the up- 
 turned leaves were yet dank and moist. 
 
 "Those plaguy co-eds," Gertrude muttered ; "they scent 
 a flower as a dog does a rabbit." 
 
 She picked, half in disgust, the anemones and the wake- 
 robin and was about to return to the path, when suddenly 
 she discovered a stooping figure among the stones, some 
 fifty feet above her. It was a man, and as far as she could 
 see, he was alone. That a man should start out alone in 
 search of wild flowers seemed a curious thing, and she 
 knew but one man in Torryville who w r ould be capable of 
 it. Did she wish to meet Dr. Hawk here, after what had 
 occurred between them ? But who in the world could it 
 be for whom he was picking flowers ? He surely was not 
 picking them for himself ; that would be too absurd even 
 for him. Was it for his mortgagee the girl who had 
 pre-empted his affection against all claimants? Perhaps 
 the doctor was having two strings to his bow ; perhaps he 
 was playing under cover with his mortgagee, and was 
 merely satisfying his dramatic instinct in enacting little 
 guarded love-scenes with his patients. Gertrude flushed 
 with wrath at this suspicion, and resolved to call her ad- 
 mirer to account. But what right had she to do that ? He 
 had never declared that he loved her ; never asked her to 
 marry him. Was it not possible that her own over-wrought 
 fancy had spun this entire romance by subjecting the doc- 
 tor's actions to a too ingenious interpretation. That was 
 a possibility which was fraught with fresh humiliation. 
 
 She was anxious to avoid the doctor, and yet in the recon- 
 dite recesses of her mind hoped that she might not suc- 
 ceed. There was nothing to prevent her from going home, 
 and she would perhaps have done so, if she had not dis- 
 covered the figure of a strange woman down on the path 
 by the creek. A curious reluctance to meet this woman 
 took possession of her ; she was often subject to impulses 
 of this sort, and never attempted to account for them. She 
 skipped quickly from stone to stone, and reached the 
 
132 THE MAMMON 
 
 winding wooden staircase which leads to the upper rocky 
 terrace. Here the water-fall kept up a perpetual booming 
 as of heavy artillery, and the spray blew in white showers 
 through the tree-tops. The torrent seethed and tossed 
 with despairing contortions in the smooth black cauldron, 
 and plunged at last with hissing noises down over the 
 brown bowlders. Gertrude became so absorbed in this 
 spectacle that she forgot all about the woman from whom 
 she had wished to escape ; and she uttered a faint cry, 
 when she suddenly discovered her standing at the foot of 
 the staircase. Yielding to an irrational impulse of fear, 
 she ran up twenty or thirty steps, paused to draw breath, 
 and finally flung herself down under a pine-tree that grew 
 close to the mill-race. There was a small mill situated 
 here, and a dam, which was overflowing on all sides with 
 brown water. The sun was quite warm and the steam of 
 the earth was delicious full of stirring life and creative 
 ferment. Gertrude sat idly gazing at the slow currents 
 that bore dead leaves and branches to the edge of the dam, 
 and the spongy foam and bubbles that gathered about the 
 stones on the shores, and got detached, sailing away on 
 some" capricious eddy. It seemed in one moment so beau- 
 tiful and in the next inexpressibly dreary. The trees 
 stretched their gaunt hands against the sky, praying for 
 sun and summer, and they prayed not in vain, for the 
 strong juices were rising within them and their buds were 
 swelling. 
 
 She became aware, while she sat thus absorbed in con- 
 templation, of some alien presence, and turning swiftly 
 about saw the strange woman standing at the head of the 
 staircase, gazing at her with solemn intentness. There 
 was an air of faded gentility about the woman, bordering 
 on shabbiness. She wore a black gown which made no 
 attempt to disguise its age ; a smartly cut jacket, much 
 stained and soiled, and a rather pretentious and youthful- 
 looking hat, of a battered and demoralized appearance. 
 There was something indefinably rumpled and untidy 
 about her whole attire as if she had slept in her clothes. 
 On her face, too, which must once have been comely, there 
 was a blight of some sort. Her features were large, plump, 
 and faultlessly moulded ; but the dark rings about her eyes 
 and the deep yellow pallor of her complexion spoiled all 
 pretence they might yet make to beauty. Only her blonde 
 hair, which was banged and curled, had a rich tawny sheen, 
 as if it had drained the poor head upon which it grew of its 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 133 
 
 last vigor. But what impressed Gertrude more than any- 
 thing else was the woman's eyes, the pupils of which were 
 inordinately large, and shaded imperceptibly into the black 
 iris. They had a vague, burnt-out look, by turns whimsi- 
 cal and appealing. 
 
 A dreadful oppression came over the girl, a kind of 
 spell-bound calm, as if her limbs were dead or too heavy 
 to move. She looked away over the water, and there 
 seemed to be a horrible fierce persistense in its un- 
 ceasing currents and gyrations. She saw the woman 
 approach her with timid, hesitating steps, and with a 
 strained and withered smile which was terrible. 
 
 " You will pardon me, perhaps," she heard her say (but 
 her voice sounded far away and incorporeal); " I took 
 the liberty to follow you, because I wished to speak with 
 you." 
 
 The thought darted through Gertrude's head that the 
 woman was a blackmailer, who meant to extort money by 
 a threat to divulge fictitious secrets. It was a consoling 
 reflection, therefore, to know that she was not alone in the 
 ravine, and that if she could make her voice heard above 
 the roar of the water, she might, in case of necessity call 
 Dr. Hawk to her assistance. She glanced uneasily down 
 the gorge in the hope of seeing the doctor ascend the 
 stairs at the side of the falls. "You need not be afraid of 
 me," the strange creature continued, with the same dis- 
 tressing smile ; " I shall do you no harm. I am a poor 
 woman who has seen better days yes, my dear that I 
 have so help me God ! " 
 
 She heaved a sigh and her eyes filled with tears. 
 
 " I do not see what I can do for you," Gertrude forced 
 herself to answer ; " but if you wish to talk with me, I wish 
 you would call upon me at home, I don't like to have peo- 
 ple follow me about in this way." 
 
 " It was for your own sake, my dear, that I did not call 
 upon you at home. You think me queer, no doubt, well, 
 perhaps I am queer. But you, my dear won't you allow 
 me to hold your hand just for a moment, you know 
 
 She had seated herself on the moist carpet of pine- 
 needles close to Gertrude, and, with a little hysterical laugh, 
 tried to seize her hand. But the girl, now thoroughly 
 frightened, jumped up with a cry, and would have run 
 down the ravine, if the steepness and the slipperiness of the 
 path had not made precipitous motions dangerous. So 
 she arrested the impulse with an effort of will ; but re- 
 
134 THE MAMMON 
 
 mained standing, fearful and alert, like a bird about to 
 take flight. 
 
 " If you do not leave me," she said, indignantly, " I shall 
 call for help." 
 
 The woman struggled to her feet with some difficulty , 
 and Gertrude noticed, as she rose up at her side, that she 
 was exactly her own build and height. They stood gazing 
 at each other for a minute in silence ; the woman because 
 she was out of breath from the effort of rising, Gertrude 
 because she wished to discourage further communication. 
 
 " My dear," the former began, with a whimsical gesture 
 which indicated extreme nervousness, " I am a mere 
 stranger to you, of course I am a mere stranger, I should 
 say but if you knew how I have suffered 
 
 She shed a couple of tears, and after having rummaged 
 in her pocket, pulled out a soiled lace handkerchief, which 
 she applied to her eyes. 
 
 " I am sorry that you have suffered," Gertrude answered, 
 a trifle mollified, "and if I can do anything for you," she 
 added rashly 
 
 "Yes, you can do something for me," the other inter- 
 rupted eagerly ; "would you would you I don't mean to 
 seem intrusive but I cannot help it If you only knew 
 I have suffered so much I have prayed for death many a 
 time as the greatest mercy and I have been so cruelly 
 treated by those from whom I had a right to expect 
 kindness and love one to whom I gave my young heart 
 and he broke it and crushed it and trampled upon it 
 and I am so miserable. And the only one on earth I loved 
 he took away from me my only child my only daugh- 
 terthe only creature I loved the only comfort that was 
 left to me he stole away from me cruelly in the night." 
 
 She wept now profusely, and while the tears flowed, 
 unhindered, dived again into her pocket, from which she 
 presently brought to light, a much-worn, and crumpled 
 letter. She ceased her lamentation abruptly, and with a 
 half-embarrassed air glanced from Gertrude to the letter, 
 which she turned over two or three times, and smoothed 
 with her palms. 
 
 "My dear," she said, with her nervous, whimsical smile, 
 " did you ever know your mother ? " 
 
 Gertrude felt a tightening of her throat, and in her whole 
 body a numbness and oppression. She stared dumbly at 
 the strange woman, with a vague expectation of something 
 dreadful that she knew would be coming. 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 135 
 
 " You never knew her ? You have no recollection of 
 her ? Well, I don't wonder. You were only four years 
 old when you were taken away." 
 
 It was as she had feared, then. This woman had some 
 connection with her past life ; was perhaps no, no, she 
 could not bear the thought it seemed so incredible, so 
 horrible. But still the conviction settled more and more 
 deeply in her mind that the riddle of her origin was 
 about to find its solution. 
 
 " My mother is dead," she forced herself to say ; " I 
 know that she is dead." 
 
 " No, my dear, she is not dead, though she has wished 
 a thousand times that she were," cried her interlocutor 
 hysterically ; " look at this letter look at it do I speak 
 the truth, or don't I ? What does that say ? Read it, my 
 dear, read it. I am not afraid you should know the truth. 
 God is the judge between me and him I have God as 
 my witness that he stole you from me like a thief in the 
 night tore the weeping child from the mother's bleeding 
 heart ; that he did, my dear, and God is my witness, and 
 I am his lawful wife. I gave my innocent young love to 
 him, and that was the way he returned it ; abused me, 
 and struck me, and stole my child away from me " 
 
 She continued in this strain for several minutes, ac- 
 companying her narrative with excited gestures and sobs, 
 appealing to heaven, rolling her great, vague liquid eyes, 
 and distorting her lax, withered features with an effort to 
 express vivid emotions. But there was a kind of ghastly 
 unreality about it all something premeditated and me- 
 retricious which left Gertrude cold. She accepted the 
 letter which was thrust into her hands, and read it half 
 mechanically, wondering all the while at her own callous- 
 ness. The letter was dated Dayton, O., May 12, 1861, 
 and read as follows : 
 
 " MY DEAR WIFE : I have got a big contract for pon- 
 toon bridges, and expect to make a pile out of it. Den- 
 ton has a quarter interest, because he did the work in 
 Washington. I shan't be home this week, but expect to 
 get back Monday or Tuesday. Keep your spirits up, and 
 don't get droopy. Kiss little Gertie from her papa, and 
 tell her to hurry up with her pesky teeth, and not keep her 
 poor mother awake nights. 
 
 " Your affectionate husband, 
 
 "OBED LARKIN." 
 
136 THE MAMMON 
 
 There was little doubt in Gertrude's mind that this 
 note was genuine. It was her father's epistolary style, 
 and it was very like his handwriting. The ink was faded, 
 and there was a helpless crookedness in the letters, which 
 had not then acquired the dignity of originality. More- 
 over, it was not the kind of letter which anyone would 
 have been likely to forge, destitute as it was of endearing 
 phrases and protestations of affection. The only intelli- 
 gence which it conveyed to her was that Mr. Larkin was 
 really her father, and that his wife was not her mother. 
 This she grasped clearly (though it failed for the mo- 
 ment to awaken either joyful or painful emotions) ; but 
 all the other bearings of the question she put off defi- 
 nitely, feeling unequal to grapple with its many perplexi- 
 ties. She handed the letter back to the alleged Mrs. Lar- 
 kin, and stared at her again with dreary irresolution. If 
 this was indeed her mother, whose face she had so often 
 prayed to behold, how was it possible that she could stand 
 thus face to face with her without a vestige of emotion 
 without a quickening of love, or at least of pity ? It may 
 be that the revelation had stunned her, paralyzing her 
 nerves, and produced that shivering vacuity which was 
 creeping over her. She felt aching and sore, as if she 
 had been pounded ; but otherwise nothing except a chilly 
 wonder. She reflected in a dim way that a much acuter 
 sorrow would have been visible upon the woman's face, 
 if she were a mother, thus coldly rebuffed by her daugh- 
 ter, upon whom she had lavished her heart's best affection. 
 But it was all so perplexing that it seemed utterly hope- 
 less to attempt to unravel it. 
 
 " If you will come and see my father this afternoon at 
 three," said Gertrude, collecting her senses by a vigorous 
 effort, " I will persuade him to receive you." 
 
 " Your father your father ! " the woman exclaimed, 
 with a blank gaze, as if her thought had slipped from her 
 grasp and she was trying to recover it. " Oh, yes, Obed 
 Larkin, you mean. Well, he is a nice father, he is. He 
 is a lovely father and you too, you look like him and 
 you act like him that's what you do not one kind word 
 for your own mother your own flesh and blood I who 
 brought you into the world 
 
 She laughed again the same wild hysterical laugh, and 
 a threatening tone stole into her speech which awakened 
 Gertrude from her lethargy and filled her with alarm. 
 She pulled herself suddenly together, ran down to the 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 137 
 
 mill, crossed the foot bridge, and struck the path which 
 leads up to the highway. Her fear grew upon her as she 
 ran, and she dared not look behind her to see if she was 
 pursued. As she approached the University and saw the 
 great piles of masonry shimmer through the trees, she 
 slackened her speed and took time to recover her breath. 
 
138 THE MAMMON 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE SEED OF DRAGON'S TEETH. 
 
 On the University campus Gertrude discovered her 
 father's brown mare and the well-known buggy, splashed 
 with dried mud. Mr. Larkin became presently visible, 
 emerging in the company of young tutor Rodney from 
 the new Weather Signal Station. He had examined the 
 apparatus, the application of which he had made the young 
 man explain to him, first because he wanted to know it 
 himself ; and secondly because he was anxious to find out 
 whether Mr. Rodney was competent to carry on the work to 
 which he had been assigned. The result of his manoeuvre 
 was apparently satisfactory, for he stopped every now and 
 then on the sidewalk talking with animation and pounding 
 the gravel with his cane. 
 
 " You just be sure you are right, young man," Gertrude 
 heard him say, "and then go ahead. That's the principle 
 I have always acted on. An American can't afford to 
 waste time on what you call the traditions of science. I 
 tell you, sir, if I had troubled myself about the traditions 
 of bridge-building, instead of going right ahead in my 
 own way, I should have been working now for a boss at 
 two dollars and a half a day. No, sir, the American brain 
 has got to do its work in its own way, or it won't do no 
 f . work at all that's to say valuable work, that's worth tak- 
 ing account of. The man who can only do what others 
 have done before him may be worth his victuals. I don't 
 begrudge him that. But that is all. He ain't worth any 
 more." 
 
 He cocked his head with his shrewd, self-satisfied smile, 
 and started in on some fresh topic which afforded him 
 another opportunity to illustrate his Americanism. He 
 saw Gertrude approaching, but he paid no heed to her. 
 It was not his custom to expend politeness on members 
 of his own family. It did not even occur to him that it 
 was an unusual thing to see her on the university campus 
 during the hours of instruction. He did not observe the 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 139 
 
 traces of excitement in her face, though they were perfectly 
 plain to the young man with whom he was talking. There 
 was, however, an implied recognition of her presence in 
 the annoyance he exhibited, as Mr. Rodney saluted her, 
 and gave no longer his undivided attention to his discourse. 
 He had struck his favorite theme of tobacco and rum, con- 
 cerning which lie felt sure his opinions were novel and 
 original. It was therefore not an amiable face he turned 
 to his daughter, as, heedless of his preoccupation, she 
 walked up to him and took his arm ; but, on the other hand, 
 neither was it an angry face, for the humor that lurked in 
 it and the quaint Yankee shrewdness tended to neutralize 
 every emotion and keep it within bounds. 
 
 " Well, darter," he said, not unkindly, " are you co- 
 educating, or what is the matter ? " 
 
 He had never known her to take his arm before in that 
 manner, and it was that which aroused his suspicion that 
 something was wrong. But to Gertrude, the desire to get 
 near him, to touch him, to press herself close to him, was 
 so imperious that she broke heedlessly through the relation 
 which habit had established between them. She would 
 have liked to fling herself upon his neck, to hug him and 
 kiss him ; and a single caress from him would have filled 
 her with gratitude. It did not matter so much now 
 whether he was agreeable or not ; the certainty that he 
 was her father invested his somewhat uncouth personality 
 with a preciousness and dignity which it had never before 
 possessed in her eyes. She did not trust herself to reply 
 to his remark, for her teeth displayed an alarming pro- 
 pensity to chatter, and she felt the tears burning under 
 her eyelids and ready to gush forth. 
 
 "You look flustered," Mr. Larkin went on, regarding 
 her with his small, sagacious eyes; "you'd better ride 
 down with me in the buggy." 
 
 She nodded, and pulled him gently away toward the 
 curbstone where Libby, the venerable bay mare, with her 
 shaggy head, was standing. This animal had been about 
 twenty years in Mr. Larkin's service, and she was now 
 turning gray, and had, moreover, the unpleasant habit of 
 stumbling. But he had grown so fond of her that noth- 
 ing could induce him to part with her. She had origin- 
 ally borne the august name "Liberty," but this had in 
 time been corrupted to Libby and Lib. Some people 
 thought, when they observed the care with which Mr. 
 Larkin drove this hoary mare, and the coaxing, cajoling 
 
I4O THE MAMMON 
 
 way in which he spoke to her, that it was as a companion 
 he valued her, rather than as an aid to locomotion. He 
 had four other horses in his stable ; two of which were 
 farm-horses, one a saddle-horse named Walter Scott, be- 
 longing to Gertrude, and one, a rather ornamental family 
 horse named Jim, who was chiefly devoted to Mrs. Lar- 
 kin's service. But the old gentleman himself, who was not 
 much for the ornamental, professed entire satisfaction 
 with the slow and uncertain progress of shaggy old Lib. 
 
 The great university bell in the Culver Tower struck 
 three-quarters to one as Mr. Larkin stepped into his high 
 buggy, and hauled his daughter in after him. 
 
 "Well, darter," he said, after having addressed a few 
 encouraging words to Libby, " I wish you'd brace up a 
 bit. What are ye moping about anyway ? Quarrelled 
 with the doctor again, eh ?" 
 
 Libby, who evidently objected to the increased weight 
 of the buggy, was standing, shaking her head disgustedly, 
 and Mr. Larkin, without awaiting Gertrude's answer, tried 
 to persuade her to overcome her objections. 
 
 " Now, don't you be cantankerous, old girl," he said, 
 chuckling at the mare's perversity; "you don't mind 
 Gertie, do you ? Take a pull now one, two, three ! Be 
 a good old girl, now there goes ! I knew you'd think 
 so ! Good old Libby that's a dear old girl." 
 
 Libby, having had time to meditate, expressed her dis- 
 sent mildly by shaking her ears ; but concluded, on further 
 consideration, to comply with her master's request. She 
 walked along cautiously for a few minutes, and, after 
 having passed the university chapel, broke into a jerky 
 jog-trot. Gertrude, being unable to control her inclina- 
 tion to shiver, seized her father's arm again, and clung 
 tightly to him. Mr. Larkin now turned half about and 
 looked at her. 
 
 " I reckon you've got the chills, darter," he said ; " it 
 ain't time yet to be skirmishing through the gorges. It 
 is too early in the year. You're sick that's what you are. 
 Now I shouldn't care to see you on your back again for 
 another six weeks." 
 
 Gertrude was grateful for the grain of sympathy which 
 this speech implied, and felt that she must say something, 
 lest she should appear to repel his kindness. 
 
 " I am not ill, father," she said, breathlessly ; " but but 
 something dreadful has happened to me." 
 
 Mr. Larkin reined in the horse suddenly, and surprised 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 141 
 
 Libby by addressing her in very uncomplimentary lan- 
 guage. "Now you silly old thing," he cried, "can't ye 
 keep still when I tell yer ; " then turning to Gertie : 
 " Well, I thought something was up. Now tell me what 
 is it ?" 
 
 She glanced up and down the road before speaking ; 
 but there was no one in sight except a small barefooted 
 boy. 
 
 " Father," she began, with chattering teeth, " I met a 
 dreadful woman in the Drumhead Ravine. She said she 
 said she is my mother." 
 
 Mr. Larkin did not answer at once ; but with the whip- 
 lash tried to brush away a horse-fly which was hovering 
 about Libby's tail. " H'm," he said at last, " I guess she 
 was lying." 
 
 " But she had a letter from you, father," Gertie went on, 
 tremulously, " at least it looked like your handwriting. It 
 was written many years ago, and it was about pontoon 
 bridges and money-making." 
 
 Well what else ? " 
 
 " It was signed it was signed " 
 
 She could not keep the tears back any longer, but 
 hugging his arm tightly pressed her face against his 
 shoulder. 
 
 " Hush, darter, hush," he warned, in a cool, steady voice, 
 " don't make a fool of yourself. We'll talk it over when 
 we get home. Dry up those tears now and don't worry, 
 or folks '11 be thinking I've been scolding you." 
 
 Gertrude obeyed this injunction as far as she was able, 
 wiped away her tears and forced down the sobs which 
 rose in her throat and threatened to choke her. Perceiv- 
 ing that she did not have her facial muscles under control, 
 he took a roundabout way home, where they would be likely 
 to meet few people, and made no further allusion to her 
 adventure. He did not stop before his front-door (it was 
 never his custom to do this when alone) but drove into 
 the yard by the back gate. There he calfed his " man," 
 who presently emerged from the barn, and with some diffi- 
 culty got out of the high and inconvenient buggy. The 
 groom did not dare to assist him, knowing well that such 
 an offer would have cost him his place. But, quite con- 
 trary to his custom, Mr. Larkin, turned around and lifted 
 his daughter out of the buggy, which attention was so 
 grateful to Gertrude that she had to exert herself to keep 
 from embracing him. After having ascertained that Mrs* 
 
142 THE MAMMON' 
 
 Larkin was out driving, he led the way into the library, 
 and seated himself at his desk, while Gertrude sat down 
 in a rattan rocking-chair opposite. He picked up a 
 bronze paper-cutter and looked at it, as if wondering what 
 it was meant for, and then began gently to tap the desk 
 with it. 
 
 "Well," he said, looking up suddenly, " this woman you 
 was talking about. She said she was your mother ? Did 
 she offer you any proof ? " 
 
 "She showed me a letter signed with your name, in 
 which you addressed her ( My dear wife' ! " 
 
 Gertie had now so far accustomed herself to the situa- 
 tion, that, barring a certain tremulousness, she was able to 
 hold her emotions in check. 
 
 " H'm ! And you think the letter was genuine ? " 
 
 "I do not know. But it excited me very much." 
 
 " Did she ask you for money ? " 
 
 " No, she asked me for nothing ; but she said dreadful 
 things about you. 
 
 " H'm, yes. How did she look ? " 
 
 " She had heavy blonde hair bright straw-colored 
 beautiful hair and great black eyes, with a curious blank 
 stare and black rings about them." 
 
 For some reason this description excited Mr. Larkin ; he 
 gave a thump with the paper-cutter on the desk ; wheeled 
 about in his revolving chair and walked over to the fire- 
 place. 
 
 " She had blonde hair, did she, eh ? " he queried, with a 
 pinched, almost malicious look in his eyes. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Then it was dyed. She had dark hair when I knew her." 
 
 " Then you do know her, father ?" 
 
 The question broke from her like an anxious cry, and 
 her face was full of quivering doubt and sorrow. 
 
 " Do I know her ? Well, I should say I do." 
 
 He pulled a red silk handkerchief from his pocket and 
 wiped away the perspiration that hung in great beads 
 upon his brow. 
 
 "And is she my mother?" 
 
 "Yes, God help you, child that she is, though I would 
 have given years of my life to have spared you that knowl- 
 edge." 
 
 "Why so?" 
 
 "She is a bad woman, Gertie. She was once my wife', 
 when I was a young and poor man and she made my life 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 143 
 
 a hell for me. The only thing that could excuse her 
 wickedness though, God knows, I don't see how it can 
 excuse what she did was this, that she was rarely in her 
 right mind. She drugged herself early and late with 
 opium. She had this habit long before she met me ; but 
 she concealed it from me. She knew I wouldn't stand it. 
 I found it out soon enough, though ; and it nearly drove 
 me wild. When you was born, I was tied to her, and I 
 reconciled myself to the thought of putting up with her. 
 But it went from bad to worse ; to save your life I had 
 to get you away from her. It is no use going over all 
 that damnable misery again. She neglected you she 
 didn't care any more for you than if you had been a found- 
 ling or a puppy." 
 
 "And did you take me away from her in the night?" 
 
 "In the night ? Why, no ; I may say I bought you back 
 from her ; though any court would have decided that she 
 was unfit to keep you. I paid her $10,000 for renouncing 
 her claim to you, and she took the money and parted from 
 you without a pang. She gave her solemn promise that 
 she would never make herself known to you, or try to see 
 you. I got a divorce from her in Ohio in 1862 ; she didn't 
 put in an appearance, because she knew that, in the state 
 she was in, it was no good denying my allegations. I have 
 paid her $1,500 a year alimony ever since, of my own free 
 will, on condition of her keeping away from me ; though 
 the court did not give her a dollar." 
 
 Mr. Larkin, having finished this narrative, seized the fire- 
 tongs and began to poke the fire vindictively, for there was 
 yet a slight chill in the air, and Mrs. Larkin, who was sensi- 
 tive to cold, insisted upon having a fire in the library up to 
 the beginning of June. Gertrude gazed at his white, stub- 
 born head and bent old back, and her heart overflowed with 
 yearning sympathy. It struck her for the first time in her 
 life that there was something pathetic about him. He was 
 quite an old man, she reflected ; and he had had much 
 trouble. He belonged to her as no one else in the world, 
 and she belonged to him. 
 
 When he had vented his indignation upon the fire, Mr. 
 Larkin got up, stalked across the floor and seated himself 
 heavily in his revolving chair. He never sauntered or 
 paced the floor in meditation ; but had always a definite 
 goal for his motions. He fumbled about with his right 
 hand for the paper-cutter, without looking, and having 
 found it, half turned to Gertrude and asked 
 
144 THE MAMMON 
 
 "Where is she now?" 
 
 " I don't know. I told her to come and see you at four." 
 
 " That was not well done of you, darter. Though she 
 would have come anyway, so it makes no difference." 
 
 There was a pause of two or three minutes. Then Mr. 
 Larkin looked up wearily and said: "Is anything going 
 on to-day, affecting the heathen ?" 
 
 He was innocent of any humorous intention in this 
 query ; nor did it strike Gertrude as in the least amusing. 
 She saw its bearing at once, and knew that he was sum- 
 moning her aid to keep his wife away from the house, 
 while the first claimant was calling. She picked up the 
 Torryinlle Courier, glanced down one column and up an- 
 other, and said finally : 
 
 "There is to be a Union Missionary Meeting at the First 
 Methodist Church, which will be addressed by the Rev. 
 Abiel Striker, D.D., who has recently returned from Syria." 
 
 " The very thing. At what hour is it ?" 
 
 "Three P.M." 
 
 "You had better tell mother about it. But probably 
 she knows." 
 
 "Then mother does not know of this this woman." 
 
 " No, darter ; that's where I was a fool. It would have 
 been much better if I had told her. There was no disgrace 
 about it. But mother, being so pious and all that I jest 
 sorter weakened and didn't say nothing to her." 
 
 There was another pause, during which the hickory log 
 on the hearth fired off small pistol shots, and projected 
 pieces of glowing coal out upon the rug. Gertrude rose 
 and stepped upon them ; and the sweet odor of the wood, 
 mixed with whiffs from the singed tiger-rug, diverted her 
 attention slightly from the theme of discussion. 
 
 "What do you mean to do, father?" she asked at last, 
 rather listlessly. 
 
 He did not answer at once, but fixing a keen glance upon 
 her, spoke with a voice which sounded like the rasping of 
 a saw. 
 
 " I want you to promise me this, Gertie, that you will 
 never try to see this woman again, or allow her to com- 
 municate with you. You must choose between her and 
 me." 
 
 "You know I choose you, father." 
 
 "And you promise ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " I shall give her more money, of course. That's what 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 145 
 
 she is after. I thought I had bought all my letters back, 
 long time ago ; but it appears she has kept some back, to 
 be used in an emergency. I don't want you to talk to her 
 or have anything to do with her." 
 
 " I have no wish to talk to her." 
 
 "So much the better." 
 10 
 
146 THE MAMMON 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 AN UNPLEASANT VISITOR. 
 
 Mrs. Larkin, being unable to resist the allurements of 
 the heathen, started off to the Union Missionary meeting, 
 full of pleasant anticipations. She had not the faintest 
 suspicion of the momentous events which were taking 
 place behind her back, nor had she any perception that 
 the air about her was charged with dumb excitement. It 
 was no uncommon thing in the Larkin household to sit 
 through a dinner in silence ; and no one, therefore, took 
 any note of the solemnity that prevailed at the table. Ad- 
 mirable and estimable people as they were, they were not 
 sufficiently high in the scale of civilization to put them- 
 selves out, habitually, for the sake of being agreeable. Mr. 
 Larkin, who was indeed ready enough to speak to people 
 whom he expected to impress, had somehow less confi- 
 dence in his authority at home, knowing that his stories 
 and teachings had there long since lost their novelty. He 
 did, to be sure, sometimes address to Horace observations 
 about business matters and political affairs, which the lat- 
 ter answered with monosyllables, or with some dry and 
 commonplace comment ; and when he was in particularly 
 good humor, he joked his wife on her interest in the 
 heathen, and asked her whether the shirts she had sent to 
 the Zulu-Kaffirs were a good fit. But, as a rule, he depre- 
 cated conversation at meals as interfering with the more 
 serious business of the occasion. 
 
 Horace and Aleck returned, as was their wont, to the 
 office on Main Street, as soon as they had finished dinner, 
 and, besides the servants, Mr. Larkin and his daughter 
 were the only persons in the house when the unwelcome 
 visitor arrived. Gertrude walked about as in a trance, 
 not knowing whence she came or whither she was going. 
 The consciousness of this great tragic event in her life 
 preyed upon her. It unsettled her thought, raising up 
 new standards of right and wrong ; making her uneasy 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 147 
 
 and agitated. She was sitting before the fire, staring into 
 a book, which failed to convey the slightest idea to her 
 mind, when the door opened, and Nettie announced that 
 there was a lady in the hall who wished to see Mr. Larkin. 
 There was nothing unusual in such an announcement, 
 for Mr. Larkin had the common experience of all rich 
 men, of being persecuted by the unfortunate. 
 
 " Show her in," said Mr. Larkin. 
 
 He heard the door open and shut ; but kept his eyes 
 persistently fixed on the desk. When, at last, he raised 
 them, he saw a tall woman, with a yellow face, dressed in 
 shabby black, stand before him. The most noticeable 
 thing about her were the great black rings about her eyes. 
 Mr. Larkin, though not a sensitive man, almost shuddered 
 as his glance met hers. 
 
 " H'm," he said, with a grunt, " you are there again, 
 are you ? " 
 
 A whimsically appealing smile, which was anything but 
 mirthful, distorted her features, and her great, dark, cloudy 
 eyes, which were passionate and unintelligent, seemed to 
 have nothing to do with it. 
 
 " I suppose you have spent the last money I sent you," 
 Mr. Larkin went on ; " and you have come for more." 
 
 The woman, with a wild gesture, flung herself at his feet 
 and embraced his knees. 
 
 " Oh, Obed ! " she cried, with a sudden flood of tears ; 
 " how can you speak so cruelly to me I who gave you my 
 young heart " 
 
 " Shut up," he commanded, harshly, " none of your 
 capers now. You can't fool me. I know them all from 
 old times. Name your figure ; and be quick about it " 
 
 "Obed, I want you to listen to me," she wailed, raising 
 herself theatrically on her knees, and flinging back her 
 hands. 
 
 "No, I won't listen to you," he broke out in a rasping 
 whisper; "you and I know each other too well to be up 
 to any comedy-acting. It won't go down, I tell you. So 
 behave yourself and let us proceed to business." 
 
 Gertrude who at that moment caught a glimpse of her 
 face was amazed at the suddenness with which its expres- 
 sion changed. It was as if, finding the mask unsuccessful, 
 she deliberately dropped it and exchanged it for another. 
 She seized hold of the desk to assist her in rising ; sat 
 down in a chair and smiled. Gertrude could now see the 
 reflection of her face in the glass, and it affected her most 
 
148 THE MA MM OH 
 
 unpleasantly. She saw her pull the same soiled letter 
 from her pocket, unfold it, and smooth it out as before. 
 
 " How much do you suppose that is worth, Obed Lar- 
 kin?"she asked, holding it out at arm's length. There 
 was an attempt at something resembling coquetry in her 
 air and gesture a faded pathetic coquetry which was sad- 
 der than tears. Gertrude could endure it no longer. 
 She arose and moved toward the door. 
 
 "You needn't go out of consideration for me," said Mr. 
 Larkin ; " I have no objection to your staying." 
 
 " I prefer to go, father," she answered. 
 
 "Ah, yes, you are a chip of the old block, I see that 
 plainly enough," the visitor exclaimed with feverish vivac- 
 ity; "you think you can afford to trample upon a mother's 
 heart just because he does it you think I have always 
 looked as I do now but it was his maltreatment that made 
 rne what I am my face was quite as red and white and 
 rosy as yours is and my family was as good as any in 
 England but he has no more pity than a stone only 
 look at his mouth, how hard and cruel it is and those 
 green cat-eyes ha, ha, ha ! that I ever could have loved 
 him that's what I wonder at now." 
 
 Gertrude heard these phrases hurled after her as she 
 walked the length of the floor toward the dining-room 
 door. She took this course chiefly because she had a 
 dread of meeting any of the servants who might read her 
 agitation in her face. She escaped thence into the empty 
 parlor, and having ascertained that the coast was clear, 
 ran up-stairs and flung herself upon the lounge in her 
 bedroom. As was often the case, when her nerves had 
 been subjected to a prolonged strain, she began to ques- 
 tion the reality of the cause of her emotions, and at last 
 the emotions themselves. A cool mist laid itself over 
 her thoughts, and lulled their intensity. Her mind seemed 
 a chilly vacuum, which was invaded every now and then 
 by silly and irrelevant fancies. Why did her mother 
 dye her hair, and what kind of dye did she use ? Probably 
 her hair was turning gray and she had enough vanity left 
 to wish to conceal it. She had once known a girl who 
 washed her hair daily in champagne, to take the color out 
 of it. She had become engaged to an engineer who fell 
 in love with her hair, and would have broken the engage- 
 ment when he found out that it was dyed, if she had not 
 threatened him with a breach-of-promise suit. Thus her 
 thoughts rambled drearily on, until she brought them 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 149 
 
 back forcibly to the all-absorbing discovery. But in spite 
 of her effort to realize its seriousness, an intolerable sleepi- 
 ness overcame her, and she could not, however much she 
 tried, keep from yawning. 
 
 She had lain thus for fifteen or twenty moments, when 
 a sluggish sense of duty awakened within her, and it oc- 
 curred to her that she had not acted rightly in leaving 
 her father, when he had hinted at his desire to have her 
 stay. She accordingly rose to her feet, paused before the 
 looking-glass and bestowed a few decorative touches upon 
 her back hair which had become somewhat rumpled. 
 Again she drifted into abstraction, for the question urged 
 itself upon her : 4< Do I look like her ? Have I inherited 
 her viciousness and her hypocrisy ?" 
 
 She could not avoid seeing that the shape of her face 
 and its outline hinted at the relationship ; but here, as 
 far as she could judge, the resemblance ceased. She took 
 comfort in the reflection that she had her father's blue 
 eyes, though clouded over as it were, and modified, by 
 some alien admixture. 
 
 There was a knock at the door, and without waiting 
 for an answer, Nettie, the red-haired chamber-maid, en- 
 tered. 
 
 " Mercy on us, that was a quare woman was a-callin' 
 upon Mr. Larrkin, Miss Gerrtie," she said, with her broad 
 Irish brogue. 
 
 " Is she gone ?" asked Gertrude. 
 
 " Yes, that she is, Miss Gerrtie, and thanks be to God," 
 Nettie replied, seating herself upon the edge of the bed 
 and brimming over with communicativeness. After hav- 
 ing vainly waited for encouragement to proceed, she let 
 her eyes range through the room and observed vaguely : 
 
 " Lor' knows what ye want to do with all thirn naked 
 arrums and ligs on yer winder-coortins, Miss Gerrtie. 
 Thim things brings bad loock, sure, child, or me name 
 ain't Nettie O'Harrigan." 
 
 "You don't understand that, Nettie ; and it would be 
 no use for me trying to explain it to you." 
 
 " Och, but Oi know what Oi am a-talkin' about, Miss 
 Gerrtie, sure Oi do ; fur a modest gurrel loike you to have 
 men's hind ligs hung up on yer walls and naked troonks 
 and hids, with all the skin off, loike a pealed potatoe 
 that ain't as God meant it to be, Miss Gerrtie ; and it 
 don't bring ye no good loock at all, at all." 
 
 "You needn't trouble yourself about it, Nettie," Ger- 
 
I5O THE MAMMON 1 
 
 tie observed rather loftily, seating herself in a rocking- 
 chair and picking up a sketch-book. 
 
 "But that woman, Miss Gertie," Nettie burst out un^ 
 dismayed by her chilly reception, "she was droorik, or 
 crazy, and that's what she was, Miss Gerrtie." 
 
 "Well, Nettie, what does it matter ? " 
 
 " Didn't ye hear her holler ? She was after black-mail- 
 in' Mr. Larrkin, that's what she was afther. But he's an 
 old birrd, Mr. Larrkin is, and he don't walk into them 
 koind of traps." 
 
 " Well, Nettie, I suppose he is. But it isn't very nice 
 for you to speak of him in that way. And now I wish you 
 would leave me. I am tired and I don't feel well." 
 
 " Humph, and it's prroud ye are, and ye hould yerself too 
 hoigh and moighty t.o talk with a simple gurrel ; but ye 
 h'aint got so much to brrag off, yer own self, Miss Gerr- 
 tie, though ye carry yer nose so hoigh, and bad loock tG 
 yez, now." 
 
 With this parting shot Nettie flounced out of the room 
 in high dudgeon, and Gertie was quite relieved to find 
 that her listening at the door had availed her so little. 
 For if she had obtained any specific knowledge of a com- 
 promising kind she would have been sure to blurt it out 
 when her ire was aroused. She had, like most servants in 
 Torryville, been spoiled by being treated as an equal, and 
 permitted to disburse her fund of gossip for the edifica- 
 tion of the ladies of the family. Mrs. Larkin was not 
 above enjoying the piquant items of personal history 
 which leaked through from kitchen to kitchen ; and Net- 
 tie was justly indignant at Gertrude for pretending to be 
 any better, in that respect, than her mother. 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 MISS KATE VAN SCHAAK. 
 
 Business is a blessed relief to him who has an uneasy 
 conscience. Mr. Larkin, to be sure, flattered himself that 
 he was on very good terms with his ; but for all that he did 
 not like to be alone with it, and preferred almost any com- 
 panionship to that of his own thoughts. As it happened, he 
 had a lawsuit involving large sums of money, in Michigan, 
 and sent Horace to Detroit to represent him as counsel. 
 There was a chance of compromising on favorable terms ; 
 but Mr. Larkin would listen to no conciliatory proposals. 
 He threw himself into the contest with a stubbornness and 
 pugnacious zeal which surprised even his prudent attor- 
 ney. He joyfully wasted his substance in telegraphing 
 letters of one and two hundred words, and received de- 
 spatches of similar length in return. And the result was 
 that Horace returned, at the end of ten days, with a deci- 
 sion in his favor, worth some $250,000, and a fee for his 
 own services which made him expand with an agreeable 
 sense of prosperity. He had intended to charge his uncle 
 $1,000 ; but when he named this sum to the old gentle- 
 man he pretended to grow very wroth. 
 
 " Stuff," he exclaimed, "you know as well as I do that 
 I couldn't have gotten another lawyer, who was worth his 
 grub, to do that work for me for less than $3,000." 
 
 " Perhaps," his nephew assented, thoughtfully ; "but in 
 his own family, you know, it is a ticklish matter for a man 
 to rate himself at his full marketable figure. You took me 
 when I was much below par, and you are entitled to your 
 discount." 
 
 " Don't talk slushy sentiment to me, boy," cried Mr. 
 Larkin, with assumed gruffness ; 4< if you are worth $3,000 
 you shall have $3,000, and not a cent less." 
 
 And so the end of it was that Horace deposited $3,000 
 to his credit in the Torryville National Bank, which sum he 
 converted, a week later, into a farm mortgage, bearing six 
 percent, interest. He had in him the stuff that millionaires 
 
 
152 THE MAMMON 
 
 are made of ; nothing gave him so much pleasure as a 
 successful financial operation, except perhaps a crisp and 
 clean-cut argument before the bar, that riddled his oppo- 
 nent through and through, with logical thrusts and cita- 
 tions of impregnable authorities. His cool sagacity, cou- 
 pled with a wholly unsentimental view of human relations, 
 enabled him to see and seize his opportunity before any- 
 body else had discovered that the opportunity was there. 
 1 It was often his custom when he was alone in the office to 
 take out his mortgages and securities from the safe and 
 look them over just for the pleasure of the thing. He 
 liked to handle them, for they conjured up pleasant vis- 
 ions of power, influence, and recognized success. They 
 footed up about twelve thousand five hundred dollars, which 
 was a modest sum, to be sure ; but it represented actual 
 earnings, self-denial, and shrewd calculation. 
 
 There was another reflection, too, which had a close 
 . connection with these financial meditations. He had con- 
 ] eluded, some time ago, that it would be for his advantage 
 ! to marry; and he had more than once made up his mind, 
 that, all things considered, he would never be likely to 
 meet a girl who would suit him any better than Arabella 
 Robbins. He was fond of her, in his way; and he rated it 
 a high merit in her that she was still fonder of him. He 
 tested his feelings for her in various ways, and surprised 
 himself at finding how much deeper they were than he had 
 been willing to acknowledge. Thus he had to admit that it 
 would give him pain in case she were to marry any one 
 else. It would be something more than wounded vanity. 
 He was not wildly and desperately in love with her, but it 
 would be absurd, on his part, to expect any such feeling 
 to invade his sober and well-regulated life. You could not 
 imagine a Coriolanus or a Julius Caesar, even when in 
 love, pining and breathing amorous sighs to the moon like 
 a Romeo. They would love warmly, no doubt, but yet 
 temperately and with dignity. Horace liked to fancy that 
 he was temperamentally akin to the former gentlemen 
 rather than to the latter. 
 
 His relation to Bella had been drifting gradually into 
 something closely resembling an engagement. People had 
 accepted it as a settled matter that they would some day 
 marry. They were " as good as engaged," the gossips as- 
 serted ; and I do not mean to be invidious when I say that 
 the young lady, who had indeed never resented allusions 
 to such a denouement, had, at last, by the transparent 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 153 
 
 hypocrisy and flattered gratification with which she denied 
 the engagement, come to confirm the general impression. 
 Mr. Robbins, who more than half-suspected that the young 
 people kept their secret from him merely because he was 
 supposed to disapprove, held himself in readiness (after the 
 proper amount of coaxing and tearful entreaties, to bestow 
 his parental blessing, and was prepared to make the best 
 of a son-in-law who, whatever his merits, could never 
 acquire the crowning one of being agreeable. It was and 
 remained a mystery to him that his daughter could find 
 him so fascinating ; but this was of slight consequence, 
 of course, as long as he was in every way estimable and 
 had a fair chance of becoming a leading citizen of the 
 State. But for all that, it was a thousand pities that Aleck, 
 who was so infinitely more agreeable, had not (in spite of 
 a few gentle hints) taken it into his head to fall in love 
 with Bella. Mr. Robbins murmured feebly and impotently 
 against the Lord, through the blue cigar smoke, when he 
 meditated upon these things ; but concluded sagely, when 
 his wrath was spent, that he should only muddle matters 
 still worse if he attempted to interfere. 
 
 This was the state of affairs when Horace, one evening 
 in the latter part of May, found himself seated on the sofa 
 in the parlor of the parsonage. The Rodents had taken 
 flight the moment they saw him, and even the parson had 
 discreetly retired to his study. He sat and talked about his 
 plans, and Bella listened with an enthusiasm which seemed 
 all out of proportion to the importance of the subject. But 
 then she had a way of thinking that every tiling Horace said 
 was brilliant, and if he observed that the weather was 
 unpleasant she assented to it with such evident delight 
 that he could not help suspecting that he had said some- 
 thing remarkable. She raised him constantly in his own 
 estimation, made him feel clever, masculinely superior, and 
 amiably patronizing. And so it happened, as they sat 
 there in the twilight, that he felt impelled to ask the fate- 
 ful question, for which she had been waiting for five 
 years. She was almost hysterical with joy, and she em- 
 braced and kissed him with a vehemence which made him 
 uncomfortable a little bit bashful, as it were, on her ac- 
 count. They went together into her father's study and an- 
 nounced the engagement. But Horace had a sense of 
 awkwardness and irritation during that trying interview 
 which was only carried off by Bella's touching delight. 
 He thought he had never seen Mr. Robbins appear to less 
 
154 THE MAMMOtf 
 
 advantage, and Mr. Robbins, with an internal writhing and 
 squirming, went through the ordeal, but reflected all the 
 while that his son-in-law was one of the most unpleasant 
 men with whom he had come in contact. 
 
 It was in the early part of June, when this affair had not 
 yet lost its novelty, that Miss Kate Van Schaak, of New 
 York, a niece of Mr. Robbins, arrived at the parsonage. Miss 
 Van Schaak was a tall and slender brunette, with handsome, 
 regular features. The only thing which detracted some- 
 what from her beauty was a certain lofty and disdainful 
 air, and an expression about her nose and mouth as if she 
 sniffed an unpleasant odor. It was only when her face 
 was in repose that this expression was apparent ; anima- 
 tion had the effect of softening the rigidity of her features, 
 and transforming her, as it were, into an entirely different 
 woman. 
 
 Everything about her was clear, distinct, and definite. 
 Her lips had firm, clean curves, which were drawn with 
 exquisite precision, every line, every feature was refined, 
 and hinted at centuries of civilization. She was, moreover, 
 so obtrusively clean as to make the cleanliness of others 
 seem to be of an inferior quality. She seemed clean 
 straight through. This remarkable young woman could 
 be apparently anything she liked to be ; could charm or 
 repel with the same deliberation, and chose to do the 
 latter quite as frequently as the former. She had friends 
 who adored her and enemies who detested her ; but 
 neither the praises of the former nor the vituperations 
 of the latter caused her for an instant to lose her superb 
 equanimity. She had birth, she had wealth, she had social 
 position ; in fact all that heart could desire and fortune 
 bestow upon this side of the Atlantic. Why need she, 
 under such circumstances, be weakly and democratically 
 amiable ? She felt herself in the position of a sovereign 
 for whose favor thousands sue in vain ; and she did not 
 mean to cheapen its worth by a too lavish bestowal. She 
 was conscious at times of a certain fierce sense of exclu- 
 siveness. She experienced a pleasure in keeping her doors 
 closed against all the vulgar throng without, which, she 
 fancied, were dying to be admitted. And there was no de- 
 nying that society encouraged her in this belief. She held 
 herself in such high esteem that others had no choice, if 
 they desired her acquaintance, but to accept her own val- 
 uation. It was those who most successfully expressed this 
 fact in speech and action who rejoiced in her good graces. 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 155 
 
 But even here, a certain reservation had to be observed, 
 for Miss Van Schaak had esprit and demanded a flavor of 
 wit or fineness of appreciation in the homage which she 
 received. A blunt knock-down compliment she resented ; 
 but an implied compliment, deftly turned, filled her with 
 pleasure. She had the kind of nose which in middle life 
 becomes a vexation of spirit. Now it was only aquiline 
 and rather handsome. It looked high-bred and a trifle 
 haughty. But Miss Kate was very sensitive on the subject 
 of noses, and liked no allusion to that organ in general. 
 She had a suspicion (though an ungrounded one) that her 
 beauty was somewhat marred by its prominence, and often 
 stood with a hand-glass contemplating her profile, trying 
 to settle this vital question. 
 
 I believe this was the only doubt which ever troubled 
 her and it was not serious enough to interfere with the 
 superb ease and security of her bearing. She had seen a 
 good deal of the world, spent two years in a French con- 
 vent, and had visited all the capitals of Europe. One 
 German baron and two Italian counts had placed their 
 names and titles at her disposal ; but she had politely, 
 but firmly, declined to avail herself of their kind proposi- 
 tions. If she ever married, she was wont to affirm, it would 
 have to be a man whom she was afraid of. As she had 
 never during the twenty-two years of her existence en- 
 countered such a man, she was reconciled to the thought 
 of single beatitude. She had no objection to matrimony 
 per se ; she only objected to the men who had so far honored 
 her with proposals. Of course she was fully aware of the 
 attractive force of the four or five million dollars which 
 rumor placed to her father's credit; but she was altogeth- 
 er too polite to refer to motives of that sort. In fact, she 
 never spoke of her money ; and she disdained vulgar show 
 of diamonds and gorgeous attire as incompatible with her 
 Knickerbocker dignity. She dressed, indeed, magnifi- 
 cently ; but the splendor of her attire revealed itself fully 
 only to the connoisseur. A certain quiet richness, faultless 
 fit, and chaste elegance always distinguished her costumes. 
 They were the wonder and the despair of those less favor- 
 ably situated ; they aroused evil passions in tender bo- 
 soms, wherever they appeared. They extinguished all with 
 which they came in contact as effectually as a snuffer ex- 
 tinguishes a candle. 
 
 The Van Schaak family had grown rich in a comfortable , 
 and leisurely way, without any great exertions on their 
 
156 THE MAMMON 
 
 part. They had happened to own some pieces of land in 
 the neighborhood of Fifth Avenue and Twenty-Third 
 Street ; and while deploring the influx of foreigners and 
 the disappearance of the ancient New York, sat still and 
 scooped in their millions. They held on to their fine old 
 homestead on Twenty-third Street with true Dutch tenac- 
 ity ; and raised hens, and cultivated cabbages and hya- 
 cinths, on land worth several thousand dollars a foot. I 
 believe they took more pride in this piece of bravado than 
 in any other circumstance in their family history. Mr. 
 Adrian Van Schaak, Kate's father, used to send baskets of 
 green peas and grapes around to his friends, and inform 
 them, afterwards, as a good joke, that the peas cost him 
 about ten dollars, and the grapes, fifty dollars a piece. 
 And like a Cato besieged by the Carthaginians, he held 
 his ground with splendid obstinacy ; and felt with quiet 
 satisfaction how his grapes and cabbages were growing 
 more preposterously valuable with every day that passed. 
 He was contemplating, as a further challenge to the enemy, 
 the digging of a duck-pond or artificial basin, and the 
 raising of fancy poultry, which would still further empha- 
 size the rural character of the oasis he was cultivating for 
 his own private delectation in the midst of the noisy marts 
 of trade. In the meanwhile the Carthaginians were impo- 
 tently roaring without his gates by night and by day, little 
 suspecting that that roar was their most formidable weap- 
 on. For Adrian Van Schaak was a poor sleeper. He ap- 
 pealed vainly to the mayor and the police commissioners to 
 have the nocturnal noises, which disturbed his slumbers, 
 stopped. But the mayor laughed in his sleeve, and the 
 police commissioners laughed without the least pretence of 
 concealment, and told Mr. Van Schaak that they could not 
 interfere with the laws of trade, and that it was time he 
 moved his lares and penates into a quieter neighborhood. 
 And through the long night, with short intervals, a pro- 
 cession of milk-carts, street-cars, drays, and ambulances, 
 rattled with the most diabolical racket under Mr. Schaak's 
 windows ; keeping still just long enough to enable him to 
 doze off, then with an infernal delight plunging forward 
 and giving him a start, which rippled down his spine and 
 set all his nerves quivering. Mr. Van Schaak kept up 
 his noble fight as long as he saw any chance of success, 
 but one day, when his son Adrian, Jr., with a pointed inten- 
 tion, read him Sidney Smith's speech about Mrs. Parting- 
 ton and the Atlantic Ocean, the old gentleman perceived 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 157 
 
 that his allies were deserting him, and worn out as he was 
 with sleeplessness and impotent irritation, he -struck his 
 flag and surrendered. A month later he bought a fine 
 double mansion on Gramercy Park ; and his house, duck- 
 pond, and stables, and cabbage garden, vanished in a jiffy, 
 giving place to deep excavations, steam derricks, heaps of 
 bricks, and blocks of granite. No one knew exactly how 
 much the old Knickerbocker cleared by that operation, 
 for he was extremely discreet about his money affairs, and 
 liked the mystery of large and vague figures which piqued 
 and baffled vulgar curiosity. 
 
 Mr. Van Schaak had but two children, Adrian, Jr., who at 
 the time of this narrative was about twenty-six years old, 
 and Kate, who was four years younger. Mrs. Van Schaak 
 was a cousin of the late Mrs. Robbins, whose personal un- 
 attractiveness had been somewhat mitigated by her blue 
 blood. Bella Robbins, who was accordingly a second 
 cousin of Kate Van Schaak,had repeatedly visited the family 
 in New York, and always returned tremendously impressed 
 with their grandeur. It was a source of much satisfaction 
 to her to have such fine relatives ; and she was aware, too, 
 that it added to her prestige in the town. But, those 
 Torryville people were a queer lot, and she was careful not 
 to brag (except in the most cautious and inferential way) 
 for fear of arousing their animosity. And, moreover, now 
 that Kate was in Torryville, actually visiting at her father's 
 house, people could of course see what she was, and form 
 their conclusions as to the entourage which must have been 
 required to rear so rare and splendid a flower. 
 
158 THE MAMMON 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 A CONTROVERSIAL DINNER-PARTY. 
 
 The question which agitated the parsonage after Miss 
 Van Schaak's arrival, was whether they ought to give a re- 
 ception or a dinner in her honor. The former would of 
 course be the easier ; but then they would have to invite 
 the whole congregation, and when Bella reflected what 
 that would mean, her heart failed her. She knew perfect- 
 ly what such a reception would be ; she could fancy all 
 the queer and awkward specimens of grocers, dry goods 
 men, druggists, and country lawyers with their wives pass- 
 ing in review before her cousin, and she could imagine all 
 the dreadful speeches they would make, and Kate's rigid 
 condescension, when she grew tired of being amiable ; and 
 her high-nosed scorn when she grew tired of condescend- 
 ing. All that would cause talk, of course, and arouse ill- 
 will, from which, in the end, she and her father would 
 suffer. That was, after all, the most disagreeable side of 
 her position as a parson's daughter, that she had always 
 to keep her finger so anxiously on the public pulse. On 
 every conceivable topic which divided the congregation 
 she had to balance herself on the fence as ingeniously as 
 if she had been a presidential candidate. Because her 
 father was undiplomatic and easy-going, she had to be 
 doubly wily and circumspect ; and she often had hard work 
 in explaining away some of his hasty speeches. 
 
 Mr. Robbins had given his verdict in favor of the dinner 
 and against the reception, chiefly because he liked to eat 
 good dinners and hated receptions. To him the question 
 of how to dispose of the four Rodents was a very simple 
 one ; while to Bella it was one of hopeless intricacy. It 
 was impossible to give one gentleman to each Rodent, and 
 moreover reserve one for herself ; first because it would 
 look too utterly absurd, and secondly because there were 
 not dishes and forks and glasses enough to go around. 
 She had cold shivers when she thought of presiding at a 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 1 59 
 
 dinner in the presence of her critical cousin ; and when 
 the vision of the exquisite and unsurpassable feast that 
 had been given for her in Gramercy Park flitted before 
 her fancy, she sank into the depths of misery. She even 
 wished that Kate had remained a New York sun-myth and 
 never descended into the Torryville world of fact. But 
 that was rank treason, of course ; and Bella was ashamed 
 of her sentiments. The dinner had to be given ; there was 
 no help for it. After a deal of wretched scheming it was 
 settled that two of the Rodents were to be taken ill for a 
 suitable reward, and the two others were to go visiting in 
 the country. As the dinner set (after the breakage of 
 twenty years) just sufficed for eight, it was fortunate that 
 tiie number of strictly eligible young people which the 
 town contained fell below that number. There were first 
 Horace and Aleck Larkin, and Miss Gertrude ; then Dr. 
 Hawk, who was supposed to have seen something of soci- 
 ety abroad, might pass muster at a pinch, and Pussy Dal- 
 las, who had been to school in New York, presented a fairly 
 creditable appearance. Invitations accordingly were sent 
 to these favored few, and were promptly accepted. Coun- 
 cils of war were held nightly in Mr. Robbins's study, and 
 excitement reigned in the house. Wines, terrapin, and 
 game were telegraphed for to New York ; two oyster 
 forks were in the last moment found to be missing ; and a 
 finger bowl and a champagne glass were found to be 
 broken, but had been insidiously glued together by the 
 delinquent chambermaid. Then more misery and more 
 telegraphing. And to cap the climax of vexation, it oc- 
 curred to Be<la that she had in her excitement forgotten 
 the enmity between Aleck and Dr. Hawk, and that very 
 likely their strained relations might occasion some un- 
 pleasant incident or tend to throw a damper upon the 
 spirits of the rest. However, there was nothing to be 
 done about it now. She felt when the fatal evening ar- 
 rived, like a foolhardy skipper who puts to sea with a car- 
 go of explosives, and thinks the chances even as to whether 
 he will reach port or not. Nervous and high strung 
 as she was, she had fretted herself to death with all the 
 minutest details of the arrangement ; while her father 
 laughed good naturedly and told her to take things 
 easy. It was not until she retired to her room to dress 
 that she discovered how haggard she was ; her hands 
 trembled when she took down her hair, and she had to 
 send one of the sick Rodents down, to ask for a thimble- 
 
l6O THE MAMMON 
 
 full of cognac ; otherwise she feared she would have to 
 absent herself from the dinner. Mr. Robbins on receiving 
 this message came running up-stairs in his shirt sleeves 
 with a brandy flask in his hand and his suspenders dang- 
 ling at his heels ; but he could not be admitted to the 
 virgin bower, and had to vent his solicitude in anxious 
 queries through the door, which was at last cautiously 
 opened and the flask passed in through the crack. 
 
 To dress for dinner without a maid is an achievement 
 to which few women in this age are equal. But necessity 
 is the mother of invention ; and it is astonishing what feats 
 a woman can accomplish when she knows that there is no 
 extraneous help to fall back upon. The one servant of 
 the house who, in cases of emergency, acted as lady's maid, 
 had been summoned, early in the afternoon, to Miss Van 
 Schaak's room, and remained there until that imperious 
 damsel, radiant to behold, descended into the parlor. 
 Bella, who had to put up with her clumsy and rather ill- 
 disposed Rodent, collapsed two or three times on her 
 bed, and would have wept, if she had not known that tears 
 leave traces behind them. When, at last, her toilet was 
 finished, she swore a solemn but inaudible oath that be- 
 fore she gave another dinner party she would have to take 
 leave of her senses. She found her father standing outside 
 of her door, handsome, glossy, and distingue, but with a 
 face full of anxious interrogation marks. 
 
 "Oh, don't you worry, papa, I am all right," she said, 
 reassuringly ; and then, when, with gratified relief, he 
 kissed her, she cried, with hysterical laughter : 
 
 " Oh, papa, you dreadful man, you are covered all over 
 with rice-powder ! " 
 
 To remove the traces of this unpremeditated embrace, 
 both had to retire for a few minutes to their dressing- 
 rooms, and when they reappeared they had to restrain 
 their affectionate impulses. 
 
 " Why, how lovely we look ! " cried the parson, knowing 
 well what was expected of him ; " how perfectly charm- 
 ing!" 
 
 " Now, papa ! " ejaculated his daughter, with feigned 
 displeasure, " don't be horrid. You know I look perfectly 
 hideous." 
 
 "Well, if you look hideous, my dear, I am no judge of 
 beauty." 
 
 " Now, honor bright, papa ! Don't I look dragged, and 
 worn-out ? " 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. l6l 
 
 " Why, my sweet child, you look as fresh as a rose," he 
 exclaimed, unblushingly. 
 
 "As a wilted rose, you mean ?" 
 
 " No, a Marechal Niel rose, fresh plucked, at a dollar 
 and a half a piece." 
 
 He had not lived so long with women without learning to 
 compromise with his conscience, and distinguish between 
 benevolent and malevolent mendacity. It was important 
 that his daughter should think she looked well to-night, 
 and the torments of the Inquisition could not have wrung 
 from him the admission that anxiety had left its traces in 
 her delicate face. Sincerity is, after all, in civilized so- 
 ciety, a questionable virtue. 
 
 Bella had, perhaps, a vague suspicion of her father's 
 hypocrisy ; but she was grateful for it. It left her in a 
 doubt, which, by the complex action of her mind, might 
 be coaxed into a flattering certainty. 
 
 "Papa," she said, gazing up into his face with eyes in 
 which moisture was gathering, "you are perfectly lovely." 
 
 " I," he cried, gayly ; "good gracious, daughter, an old 
 fellow like me. You evidently think I was fishing." 
 
 "No, papa, but you are just sweet." 
 
 "All right, dear. What a charming family we must be ! 
 And here we are standing, recklessly wasting our sweet- 
 ness upon each other. Isn't it about time for us to go 
 down-stairs ? " 
 
 She took his arm with nervous trepidation, and leaned 
 on it perceptibly as they descended to the parlor floor. 
 
 " I wish I could be dead for the next four hours, papa," 
 she whispered, tremulously. 
 
 " My dear, sweet child, now do be sensible," he answered, 
 with a tenderly coaxing intonation; "you know every- 
 thing will go well. But, if anything should go wrong," he 
 added, after a pause, "then remember this: Don't apolo- 
 gize for it. Laugh it off ; make a joke of it." 
 
 She listened, with a far-away look, as if she but half 
 heard what he was saying. 
 
 "Something will happen to make us wish that we had 
 never brought these people together," she murmured. 
 
 The parson caught a dim little glimmering of an idea ; 
 but it was not one capable of discussion, and he held his 
 peace. He heard the rustle of starched skirts and volumi- 
 nous draperies above him, and glancing upward saw Kate 
 in all her gorgeousness bearing down upon him. Some- 
 thing like a pang nestled in his left ^side when this splen- 
 ii 
 
1 62 THE MAMMON 
 
 did apparition placed itself next to his tired and nervous 
 daughter, and eclipsed her, as it seemed to him, with 
 cruel triumph. I fear, however, that he did Kate injus- 
 tice. It did not even occur to her to compare her rare 
 and finished self with her excitable little cousin. She 
 looked cool, fresh, and self-contained, because she felt that 
 she had nothing in the world at stake at this dinner, and 
 had consented to it as a mild diversion, and because it 
 would have been rude to show how supremely indifferent 
 the whole affair was to her. 
 
 The company was prompt in arriving except Miss Dallas 
 and Dr. Hawk, who had an impression that it was fashion- 
 able to be a little late. Horace, looking a trifle uncom- 
 fortable in his dress coat, was the first to be introduced 
 to Miss Van Schaak, and assure her that he was happy to 
 make her acquaintance. She noticed that he bowed with 
 his neck and not with his hips, and that he wore a satin 
 necktie. The little sneering smile which was frequently 
 lurking about the corners of her mouth curled her fine 
 lips, but she suppressed it instantly. Gertrude, in a cool, 
 sea-green satin, of a most delicious tint, advanced and 
 shook her hand, but dispensed with the introduction, as 
 they had met before. Kate's feminine lynx-eye took in all 
 the details of the costume, and decided that it was very 
 nice and picturesquely effective, but lacking that supreme 
 touch of style which one rarely sees outside of New 
 York. The parson, on the other hand, who had more ap- 
 preciation of beauty than of style, heaved a long, audible 
 sigh of admiration. 
 
 " Isn't this rather wicked of you, Miss Gertie," he said, 
 with his sly, kindly smile, "to be laying snares for an old 
 gentleman like me?" 
 
 Gertrude raised her languid blue eyes to the pastor's 
 face, and a slow, reluctant smile spread over her feat- 
 ures. 
 
 "You know, Mr. Robbins," she said, "it has always 
 been my ambition to captivate you, but you remind me of 
 the wily old fox that kept sniffing about the lion's den, 
 making complimentary speeches, but refusing to enter. " 
 
 " I have no recollection that the fox in question made 
 complimentary speeches." 
 
 "Why, yes, don't you remember his saying that all the 
 tracks led toward the lion, and none away ; and if the lion, 
 as I imagine, was a lioness, she must have felt immensely 
 flattered." 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 163 
 
 They talked on in this bantering strain for ten or fifteen 
 minutes, until Dr. Hawk and Miss Dallas made their ap- 
 pearance. Dinner was then announced, and each gentle- 
 man gave his arm to the lady who had been allotted to 
 him. Bella had long contended for unsealed envelopes, to 
 be handed to the gentlemen by a butler in the dressing- 
 room, but her father had insisted that so much style would 
 be sure to shock the congregation, and give his enemies a 
 handle against him in the meeting of the board. Accord- 
 ingly he assumed himself the role of the butler and gave 
 the needed hints. He offered his arm to Kate, and led the 
 way into the dining-room ; Dr. Hawk followed with 
 Gertrude ; then came Aleck with Pussy Dallas, and Hor- 
 ace and Bella brought up the rear. Mr. Robbins said 
 grace in a short and business-like way, and the hired 
 butler began to pour golden sauterne (which would have 
 done honor to King Belshazzar's feast), into Bohemian 
 glasses, transparent as air and light as bubbles. The Blue 
 Points were despatched without much conversation, ex- 
 cept some mildly jocose remarks, addressed by the host to 
 the table in general. The sherry, rich, soft, and darkly 
 amber-colored, was of a rare, old vintage, and Mr. Rob- 
 bins was sorely tempted to break the etiquette and tell his 
 guests what precious stuff they were drinking ; but he held 
 himself in check, though it made him wince to see Horace 
 drain his glass with no more sentiment than if it had been 
 Milwaukee lager. 
 
 In spite of all efforts of the host to make the conversa- 
 tion general, the tone at the table during the first half 
 hour remained stiff, and no one, perhaps with the excep- 
 tion of Kate, felt completely at his ease. Horace made 
 two or three abortive efforts to engage Bella in conversa- 
 tion, but she had her eyes on the butler and her thoughts 
 in the kitchen, and answered him in a random and dis- 
 tracted manner which showed that she had not been listen- 
 ing. Now and then she gave whispered orders to the 
 butler, and laughed nervously at her partner's soberest re- 
 marks, simply because she had to make some demonstra- 
 tion of interest, and laughter, as a rule, is more appropriate 
 than tears. Horace, being unaccustomed to such neglect 
 on her part, and being too obtuse to appreciate the situa- 
 tion, was inclined to retire into his shell and keep his 
 brilliancy to himself. He had been placed (alas, he never 
 dreamed with what deep design) on the same side of the 
 table as Miss Van Schaak, witl> Gertrude and Dr. 
 
1 64 THE MAMMON 
 
 Hawk intervening, and he had therefore no chance either 
 of seeing or conversing with the guest of honor. 
 
 A rather awkward silence was beginning to settle upon 
 the company when the parson, in his desperate straight, 
 hit upon literature and mentioned a popular authoress 
 whom he professed to admire. 
 
 " Don't you think her 'Tuscaroora ' is a charming piece 
 of work," he said, addressing himself to Miss Van Schaack. 
 
 "Yes, I think it is very nice," she answered, with some 
 animation ; " but do you know what I heard about her 
 the other day ? She has a brother who is a tailor." 
 
 All expressed their astonishment at so anomalous a 
 circumstance, except Horace, who leaned forward so as to 
 catch a glimpse of the young lady's face and said : " Well, 
 is he a good tailor ? " 
 
 This brought a laugh, of course, in which Kate heartily 
 joined. " Why do you want to know?" she asked, mer- 
 rily ; " do you wish to employ him ? " 
 
 "No," Horace replied in his dry, matter-of-fact way, 
 " but I do not see why it should be to anybody's discredit 
 to have a brother who is a tailor ; for my part, I would 
 rather have a brother who was a good tailor, than one 
 who was a poor lawyer or a mediocre doctor." 
 
 " Now, don't let us be personal, please, Mr. Larkin," 
 cried Dr. Hawk ; "your brother might object." 
 
 There was a jarring note there and everybody felt it. 
 Aleck colored a little, and ran his fingers through his hair ; 
 but refused otherwise to notice the challenge. But Kate 
 felt suddenly exhilarated. The strong, positive voice 
 which had the courage to enunciate what appeared to her 
 a most paradoxical opinion, aroused in her a spirit of con- 
 troversy, and set her thought in rapid motion. " May I 
 ask you, Mr. Larkin," she began, " what makes a man esti- 
 mable in your opinion ? " 
 
 " The degree with which he understands how to adapt 
 himself to his environment," Horace replied, promptly. 
 
 " Oh, dear ! Isn't that rather formidable ? I am afraid I 
 am an awfully inestimable creature then." 
 
 " Permit me to disagree with you. I do not know your 
 environment, but seeing you, I have no difficulty in form- 
 ing my inferences. I should say that you are the most 
 perfect product of a charming environment that I ever be- 
 held." 
 
 He had finished this rather ponderous remark in a voice 
 as if he were addressing a jury, and was about to revert to 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 165 
 
 \\\filet de b&uf, when he met a pair of large terrified eyes 
 fixed upon him. "Why, Miss Bella, what is the matter?" 
 he inquired, a little conscience-stricken, "if you take me to 
 task like that, I shall have to be mum." 
 
 Kate was a little bit too overcome by the compliment 
 to answer immediately. She was accustomed enough to 
 flattery, but the scientific flavor of this compliment and 
 the tone of conviction with which it was uttered gave it a 
 novel and not unpleasing impressiveness. Mr. Robbins 
 in the meanwhile seized the opportunity to interpose his 
 demurrer. 
 
 "What you say then, Mr. Larkin," he began a little 
 doubtfully, sipping his wine with visible gusto, "don't it 
 amount to saying that the most successful man is the 
 most estimable." 
 
 "Yes," said Horace, unflinchingly. "Success is after all 
 only adaptation to environment. Is it not ?" 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 " Would you say that the pickerel, who eats all the other 
 fishes in his lake, is the most estimable fish?" the doctor 
 put in, anxious to display his intellectual acumen. 
 
 "Yes, I would. In the conditions under which he lives 
 he has but the choice of eating or being eaten. I respect 
 him for taking a clear view of his situation." 
 
 " And that translated to human conditions," the parson 
 resumed, "would lead to the doctrine that the most esti- 
 mable man was he who robbed most successfully. The 
 longest paw and the strongest jaw, that is what com- 
 mands your respect." 
 
 "Well," Horace replied with superb sangfroid, "I do 
 respect a strong jaw and a long paw, and so do you, 
 only you have not the courage to admit it. The preda- 
 tory condition, though much mitigated, is not yet obso- 
 lete. If the alternative is presented to me to be a beast 
 of prey or a beast preyed upon, I prefer to be the beast 
 of prey. But the law, of which I am a humble representa- 
 tive, exists for the purpose of restraining man's predatory 
 instincts, and as far as possible saving the prey from the 
 preyer." 
 
 " I thought it existed for the purpose of strengthening 
 the strong jaw and lengthening the long paw," Kate 
 ejaculated with the liveliest interest. 
 
 " It is applied for that purpose quite frequently," Hor- 
 ace admitted with the same calm superiority ; " but it was 
 not designed for that purpose." 
 
1 66 THE MAMMON 
 
 "You mustn't listen to him, Miss Van Schaak," ex- 
 claimed the doctor ; " he is an inveterate cynic." 
 
 "It is my brother's hobby," Aleck remarked, leaning a 
 little forward over the table, " that Providence has played a 
 trick on us in putting us here, with instincts and passions 
 which we imagine have been given us for our own per- 
 sonal happiness and gratification ; when all the while 
 they subserve only some general purpose, such as the pres- 
 ervation of the race and the welfare of society." 
 
 " Look here, Aleck, aren't we getting into rather deep 
 waters ? " the parson interposed, with vague apprehension. 
 
 "No, pray, Uncle ; do let him go on," Kate begged with 
 sparkling eyes ; " I am intensely interested." 
 
 " I retire in favor of the junior member of the firm," 
 muttered Horace, turning his attention to his long-neglect- 
 ed plate. 
 
 "Well, ladies and gentlemen," sighed the parson, "I 
 give in. But you shan't have any Madeira as long as you 
 bother about the riddles of existence. Champagne you 
 can't have anyway, because this is a clerical house, where 
 the flesh has to be mortified." 
 
 He hoped to give a new turn to the conversation by this 
 playful threat, and he was partly successful. For five or 
 ten minutes the problems of creation were allowed to rest, 
 and a discussion was started regarding that ever fresh and 
 inexhaustible theme matrimony. 
 
 " Now, love," Bella observed from the lower end of the 
 table (it was the first time the poor child had ventured to 
 take her mind off the succession of the dishes), " love 
 surely is personal. Who ever heard of any one falling in 
 love for the welfare of society?" 
 
 " Nobody ever heard of it, perhaps," Horace replied ; 
 " but everybody does it." 
 
 " Do you mean to say that you would do it ?" ejaculated 
 Bella, who was herself nothing if not personal. 
 
 " I couldn't escape doing it. I should probably not go 
 and propose to a young lady for the welfare of society, or, 
 at least, I shouldn't tell her that I did ; and I might even 
 cheat myself with the belief that I was doing it purely to 
 please myself or the young lady." 
 
 "Aren't you horrid ?" she cried, petulantly. 
 
 " Well in that case I might not succeed in pleasing the 
 lady in question," he repeated, soberly ; "but that is irrel- 
 evant." 
 
 " Did you say it was irrelevant whether you succeeded in 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 167 
 
 pleasing the lady to whom you proposed ?" queried Kate, 
 with her handsome eyebrows raised. 
 
 "Yes, ma'am," the imperturbable Horace made answer, 
 chuckling inwardly at the delightful paradox; " it has 
 nothing to do with the question." There was nothing he 
 enjoyed so much as to tease with an air of logic and 
 judicial sobriety. 
 
 "I think you would soon find out that it had," Miss 
 Dallas broke forth in her shrill treble. 
 
 " I fear you misunderstand me, ladies," he resumed, taking 
 a sip of claret, and wiping his moustache with his napkin; 
 " what I assert is that the man who supposes he marries 
 for his own gratification or pleasure is a deluded fool. He 
 cherishes certain delusions, which it is very fortunate, 
 from the social point of view, that he should cherish, but 
 which nevertheless are delusions. It is essential to the 
 existence of society that he should have children, and that 
 he should take good care of them adapt them well to 
 their environment. No institution could be more admir- 
 able for that purpose than marriage, as it now exists. If he 
 gets tired of his wife, he might think that it would con- 
 duce to his happiness to put her away and take another. 
 But society comes and says to him : l No, my dear fellow, 
 you can't do that. You have got to stick to your bargain 
 whether you like it or not ! ' I think society is perfectly 
 right in saying this ; but nothing can persuade me that it 
 is out of regard for the man's happiness that it makes the 
 demand. No, it is for its own preservation." 
 
 " But society says nothing of the sort," Mr. Robbins pro- 
 tested, earnestly ; "it permits a man, when it is no longer 
 for his own good or that of his wife that they should re- 
 main together, to separate ; on condition that he shall con- 
 tinue to support her and his children." 
 
 "Very true; but it attaches such severe penalties to 
 this violent resumption of liberty, that a man must be very 
 reckless to venture it ; and, moreover, it is in most States 
 only under certain humiliating conditions that divorces 
 are granted. But, as I have said, I am not finding fault 
 with this state of things. I find it perfectly proper. Only 
 I think it is wise to have a clear view of the terms before 
 signing the contract." 
 
 "I presume then, Mr. Larkin, that you never intend 
 to marry/' 
 
 " Yes I do, Miss Van Schaak ; but I also intend to secure 
 as favorable terms for myself as practicable." 
 
1 68 THE MAMMON 
 
 "And would it be indiscreet to ask what you would con- 
 sider favorable terms ? " 
 
 " First health, then wealth ; and last but not least a 
 sweet temper ! " 
 
 " And in return for all these fine things, what do you in- 
 tend to offer ? " 
 
 " My own valuable self, Miss Van Schaak," he replied, 
 with a rhetorical gesture ; "the worth of which no one 
 knows better than I ; a man," he continued, burlesquing 
 amusingly his own manner, "who feels his superiority to 
 the common class to the tips of his toes and fingers, and to 
 whom no achievement in the line of his ambition is unat- 
 tainable." 
 
 A burst of laughter greeted this eulogy ; and under 
 cover of the laughter Mr. Robbins found occasion to say, 
 sotto voct, to Kate : 
 
 "You may think that is a joke ; but I assure you he 
 means every word of it." 
 
 " Indeed ! What an interesting man," Kate murmured 
 in return ; and in the depth of her heart a feeling of deep 
 respect and admiration for Horace Larkin began to 
 assert itself. He looked a trifle uncouth as he sat there 
 at the corner of the table, square, rugged, and jovially 
 challenging, but he was, for all that, tremendously impres- 
 sive. And she did not doubt that, in case she should ever 
 decide to regard him in the light of a suitor, she might 
 civilize him and polish off his most glaring angulari- 
 ties. 
 
 " I hope you will succeed in finding a lady who will 
 share your own sentiments in regard to your worth," she 
 said, smilingly. 
 
 " Oh, no danger about that, ma'am," he laughed, with an 
 evident intention to shock ; " I know bushels of them." 
 
 " But if marriage is what you say it is," piped Pussy 
 Dallas, blushing at her own audacity, " I shouldn't think 
 you would have anything to do with it." 
 
 " What did I say it was ? " Horace queried, nodding en- 
 couragingly to the girl as he would to a diffident child. 
 
 " Didn't you say it was a contract ? " 
 
 "Yes ; and usually a pretty bad one." 
 
 "That reminds me," said Aleck, "of what Mike Maginnis 
 said to Uncle Obed the other day. You know Mike has 
 just returned from the prison at Sing Sing, where he has 
 spent four years for homicide. ' Well, Mike,' Uncle Obed 
 said to him, ' how did you like Sing Sing ?' ' Divil a bit, 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 169 
 
 Misther Larrkin,' Mike answered ; * I didn't loike it at all, 
 at all ; and I tell ye this, Misther Larrkin, that if they 
 don't make it more sociable and home-loike soon, be jab- 
 ers, no dacent man will want to go there.' It is very much 
 so with matrimony, according to Horace's definition ; it 
 stands in need of improvement, or no decent man will 
 want to go there." 
 
 " But if marriage is such a bad thing," Bella observed, 
 when the laughter again had subsided, " why do so many 
 people suffer from unhappy love ?" 
 
 "I didn't know so many people did," Horace replied ; 
 "but perhaps you are right. I once knew a man who 
 suffered from an unhappy love for himself." 
 
 " An unhappy love for himself ! " Kate exclaimed. 
 " How was that possible ? " 
 
 " Well, he was an intensely vain fellow ; head over 
 ears in love with himself ; but in his soberer moments he 
 knew perfectly well that he was an inane wind-bag, inflated 
 beyond his capacity. He loved himself, but he was un- 
 able to return his own affection." 
 
 Horace let his glance slyly glide toward Dr. Hawk, 
 while he related this incident ; but he refrained from 
 making the application sufficiently pointed to be detected 
 by anybody else. 
 
 The conversation now lapsed into commonplaces ; but 
 the tone grew more and more animated, and it was evident 
 that every winged moment was charged to the full with 
 pleasure. Even Gertrude, who was usually subdued in 
 company, lost her listless air, and became engaged in a 
 playful controversy with the doctor. The ice-cream un- 
 happily had been taken out of the freezer a little too early 
 and not too skilfully ; and Bella, who was just congratu- 
 lating herself on the absence of accidents, began to cud- 
 gel her poor brain to invent a joke with which to mitigate 
 this disaster. But she found she was unequal to anything 
 in the humorous line, and her father was eating in the 
 most absent-minded way, without discovering that any- 
 thing was wrong. 
 
 " I am afraid, ladies and gentlemen," she said at last, 
 with a happy inspiration, " that this ice-cream has suffered 
 somewhat from your eloquence." 
 
 " How so ?" asked Mr. Robbins, with masculine obtuse- 
 ness. " I find it very good." 
 
 " How does eloquence affect ice-cream, anyway ? " in- 
 quired Dr. Hawk. 
 
I/O THE MAMMON 
 
 " It makes it soft," said Bella, hoping to be explicit. 
 
 " How extraordinary," ejaculated the doctor ; " I have 
 known eloquence to make me soft, but that it could thaw 
 ice-cream " 
 
 "We have talked too much, and the ice-cream had to 
 wait," cried the daughter of the house, in laughing de- 
 spair. " Do you understand that, now ? " 
 
 " You mean I have talked too much," Horace remarked, 
 dryly ; " for I believe it's I who have done most of the 
 talking." 
 
 "You couldn't talk too much if you tried," she mur- 
 mured, confidingly, fixing her big, dreamy eyes upon him 
 in undisguised adoration. They told the tale they had 
 told so often before, and they told nothing that he was 
 not perfectly well aware of. But this tender message, 
 which had always before found a slight response and 
 never failed to cause a flattered gratification, made him 
 now uncomfortable and vaguely uneasy. Instead of mak- 
 ing a lover-like acknowledgment, as he had often done 
 before, he bent over his plate and pretended not to observe 
 the significant glance. He thus missed seeing the hot 
 blush of humiliation that poured itself over the girl's neck 
 and cheeks, and burned in the tips of her pink ears. The 
 coffee had in the meanwhile been served, and Mr. Rob- 
 bins gave the keys of his precious cabinet to the butler, 
 who presently returned with three boxes of carefully 
 sorted cigars. The gentlemen made their selections, and 
 the ladies seized the opportunity to withdraw into the par- 
 lor. They would have liked to remain, but lacked cour- 
 age to make the proposition. Their departure was the 
 signal for increased hilarity in the dining-room, while in 
 the parlor an awkward silence prevailed. Each felt so 
 curiously alien to the rest ; a chill stole in between them ; 
 and nobody could think of a remark which did not seem 
 glaringly artificial. 
 
 "Girls," said Pussy Dallas, at last, in her shrill stac- 
 cato, " I think cigars are just horrid. Either men ought 
 to stop smoking, or women ought to take it up. It would 
 just serve them right." 
 
 "You must be awfully dependent upon gentlemen's so- 
 ciety, Pussy," Gertrude remarked. " I don't object to 
 their smoking as much as they like." 
 
 "Well, I don't mind if I do say it," Miss Dallas de- 
 clared. " I think it is much better fun to talk to gentle- 
 men than to ladies. There's no excitement, somehow, in 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. I/ 1 
 
 talking with girls. It doesn't matter what you say to 
 them. Nothing ever comes of it." 
 
 Pussy Dallas had earned for herself the nickname "The 
 Students' Comfort," by her undisguised devotion to the 
 masculine sex, and particularly that part of it which fre- 
 quented the university. It was told of her (though of 
 course it was base slander) that she made it a rule to be 
 engaged to at least one man in each class. She had a deli- 
 cate, blonde, dimpled face, and looked the picture of flir- 
 tatious innocence. She was always ready for anything 
 that promised "fun ;" a very type of laughing, irrespon- 
 sible, American girlhood. Life -was to her a prolonged 
 "lark," with no more serious troubles than such as arose 
 from bad weather or a gentleman's failure to keep an en- 
 gagement. Her fresh pouting lips seemed made to be 
 kissed, and, unless rumor belied them, fulfilled their des- 
 tiny. She revelled in nonsense, and had felt herself a lit- 
 tle constrained this evening by the dignity of the company 
 and the vague awe she entertained for Horace Larkin, 
 who was the only younger gentleman in Torryville with 
 whom she could not flirt. 
 
 It was a relief to the four damsels when the scraping of 
 the chairs upon the hardwood floor announced that the 
 session of the " tobacco council " was adjourned. As soon 
 as the folding doors were pushed aside, Horace walked 
 with a thoughtless impulsiveness, which seemed wholly 
 unlike him, to the lounge where Miss Van Schaak was 
 sitting, and taking his seat at her side calmly ousted the 
 doctor, who had anticipated his intention. Hawk was 
 standing in front of her, with his Hamlet look upon his 
 brow, and his eyes beaming with melancholy admiration. 
 He made two or three onsets to say startling things, but 
 presently wilted under Horace's pitiless gaze, became in- 
 coherent, and withdrew in confusion. Kate smiled with 
 evident amusement, and womanlike, turned her undivided 
 attention to the conqueror. A bond of sympathy seemed 
 to have sprung up between them at the table, and each 
 was conscious of the other's goodwill. They talked with 
 great animation for half an hour, until the sound of wheels 
 outside and the snorting of the horses reminded them that 
 it was time to break up. It is not improbable that the 
 rest of the company hailed the signal with pleasure ; but 
 Horace, surpassing himself in brilliancy, talked on more 
 eagerly in order to have an excuse for remaining. He 
 liked, of course, to hear himself talk. What good talker 
 
1/2 THE MAMMON 1 
 
 does not ? But what he liked much more was to watch 
 the effect of his speech upon Kate. She was not in the 
 least demonstrative ; did not explode or exclaim at his 
 witticisms and startling paradoxes. There was a stately 
 composure in her attitude even when she was animated ; 
 and a charming suave dignity which was the perfection of 
 good breeding. She made him feel, in an indefinable way, 
 that the attention which she bestowed upon him was a 
 precious thing, which was not lightly accorded to any- 
 body ; and he was more flattered by this reserved and 
 qualified approval on her part, than by the excited 
 enthusiasm of the damsels who daily flung themselves at 
 his head. He was, after all, uncertain whether her affabil- 
 ity was anything more than the natural desire of every 
 woman to please, reinforced by perfect manners and much 
 experience in the arts of society. And it was this doubt 
 which tormented him when he rose to take his leave, and 
 to remove which he had so long postponed his departu-re. 
 But it was still there when he walked with his brother 
 through the dim moonlight, and it got in some vague way 
 mingled with the fresh, damp smell of bursting buds and 
 sprouting leaves, which careered in warm gusts through 
 the night. " I do like a woman who doesn't fly off the 
 handle," he said to Aleck, in a tone of deep conviction. 
 
 But in the parsonage, when all was still, and Kate had 
 ascended to the upper region, Bella stood and gazed at 
 her father with a little strained smile and a pathetic pre- 
 tence of light-heartedness, which, however, did not deceive 
 him. She looked pale, and weary unto death ; a strange 
 gray tint became visible about her eyes, which burned 
 with a feverish brightness. 
 
 " My sweet girl, what is the matter ? " he asked with 
 affectionate solicitude. 
 
 " Oh, papa, I was only congratulating myself that every- 
 thing went so well," she chirped in a faint unnatural 
 treble, and without a moment's warning swooned in his 
 arms. 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 173 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 PENELOPE'S SUITORS. 
 
 It was astonishing what a centre of attraction the parson- 
 age became during Miss Van Schaak's sojourn in Torryville. 
 Dr. Hawk was almost a daily visitor, and it became ru- 
 mored in the town that he was more than willing to desert 
 the mythical mortgagee of his affections, if the dazzling 
 maiden from Gramercy Park could be induced to take 
 her place. He ordered roses by express from New York, 
 and sent them, accompanied by some heart-rending lines 
 from Omar Khayyam, to the parsonage ; and when they 
 failed to make any perceptible impression he sent original 
 poems, steeped in the blackest melancholy. He even 
 made a personal visit to the metropolis on some mysterious 
 errand, and knew on his return more of the Van Schaak 
 family, both as to its financial and social standing than 
 any other man in Torryville. He tried the role of every 
 heroic figure known to the poets, in order to win Miss 
 Van Schaak's favor ; but came at last to the conclusion that 
 she was a sordid, earth-clogged soul, without any higher 
 outlook or appreciation of nobler things. It took him 
 fully a month to make this discovery, and it would have 
 taken him longer, if he had been able to detect the faintest 
 will-o'-the-wisp of hope in the thorny path before him. 
 But there was no use disguising the fact that Miss Van 
 Schaak treated him, as Horace would have said, like "a 
 yaller dog." She was extremely " sniffy," and those peculiar 
 lines on each side of her nose, which made one suspect the 
 presence of a bad smell, were apt to become quite visible 
 when the doctor's name was announced. She laughed at 
 his fine sentiments, called him an absurd little village 
 beau, with his poor little theatricals, and crushed him 
 completely by occasionally correcting his random quota- 
 tions. She was as discouraging as it was possible for 
 any woman to be to a man who makes it evident that he 
 is willing to place his name, his heart, and his other assets 
 at her disposal. It was, of course, flying in the face of provi- 
 
1/4 THE MAMMON 
 
 dence, when, in spite of all these unfavorable indications, 
 he made her a formal proposal of marriage, and received 
 a prompt and unequivocal refusal. For all that, the 
 doctor could not even then reconcile himself to the inevit- 
 able. He valued himself so highly that he could not 
 comprehend how anybody could fail to perceive what an 
 exceptional and superior character he was. He found 
 himself so profoundly interesting, and had been so spoiled 
 by the worship of the Torryville damsels, that he could 
 only explain Miss Van Schaak's freezing indifference on 
 the supposition that some one (probably Horace or Aleck) 
 had slandered him, or that the lady's affections were al- 
 ready bespoken. 
 
 It was odd, but as far as appearances went, Professor 
 Ramsdale was the one of Kate's admirers who, to use the 
 local phrase, " had the inside track." He had this to recom- 
 mend him, that he was rather a bashful man, and cut no ca- 
 pers in order to make himself interesting. He had been so 
 definitely and inexorably dismissed by Gertrude, in spite 
 of his perseverance, that he might well be excused if he 
 began to consider the prospect of finding consolation in 
 other quarters. He had, indeed, on one occasion, declared 
 that, if she refused him seven times, he would persevere 
 even unto seventy times seven ; but I fear that fidelity, if 
 carried to such extremes, would cease to be a virtue ; 
 perhaps Ramsdale himself detected a Quixotic strain in 
 his constancy. Altogether his first and chiefest title to 
 consideration in Kate's eyes was not his endurance as a 
 rejected lover, but the fact that he was a good horseback 
 rider. He not only had a good seat, but he had the 
 muscles of a Hercules and could manage any horse that 
 was to be found in that part of the State. Horseback rid- 
 ing was the only amusement that Torryville afforded 
 which did not tire her, and as Ramsdale was the only 
 available cavalier for such excursions, she must have been 
 blind to her own interests if she had failed in a mild way 
 to cultivate him. There was something honest and sturdy 
 about him, which inspired confidence and made brilliancy 
 seem odious. He was restful and comfortable, a very 
 haven of refuge from fatiguing incidents and intellectual 
 effort. He had the rare accomplishment of being silent 
 without appearing stupid, and permitting his companion 
 to be silent, without embarrassment. They rode together 
 mile after mile, up one hill and down another, without 
 opening their mouths, except for an occasional remark 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 175 
 
 about their horses or the weather. If her saddle-girth 
 was too tight he loosened it ; if it was too loose, he tight- 
 ened it. He swung her off and into her saddle with a 
 beautiful unsentimental precision, as if she were a nice 
 boy whom he had taken in charge. If the horse was 
 uneasy or " didn't act right," he lifted up its hoofs, one 
 after another, picked out a pebble that had got 
 wedged in under the shoe, lengthened or shortened the 
 bridle, patted and talked to the animal like an old friend. 
 There was no longer a doubt in Kate's mind that men 
 of this type have their uses, and that a woman might do 
 worse than select one of them as her life-long companion. 
 And yet (so contradictory is woman's nature), when 
 Ramsdale, encouraged by her favor, ventured to make an 
 excursion into the territory of sentiment, she felt offended, 
 as if he had abused her confidence, and froze him to 
 the core of his heart by her chilly remoteness. The 
 Professor, taking warning, dropped the dangerous theme 
 and lapsed stolidly back into his role of gentleman groom 
 and thus saved himself from further humiliation. 
 
 It was somewhat of a disappointment to Kate, though it 
 did not perceptibly affect her spirits, that Horace Larkin 
 held aloof and did not join the circle of her adorers. She 
 had heard the rumor that he was as good as engaged to 
 her cousin Bella ; nay, that the day of their marriage was 
 already fixed upon. But he surely did not trouble Bella 
 with his attentions, and if he was in love with her, he 
 deserved credit for the success with which he disguised his 
 sentiment. Bella had, to be sure, thrown out a very 
 distinct hint, the day of the dinner party ; but Kate was of 
 opinion that it was her wish to be engaged to Horace, 
 rather than the accomplished fact, which she signalized by 
 her awkward little exclamation. Or, very likely, it was 
 intended to warn trespassers off the premises under the 
 penalty of the law. 
 
 " How do you like Horace Larkin?" she had asked, 
 with an air of indifference which would have been mis- 
 leading, if it had not been a trifle overdone. 
 
 " I like him very much," Kate had replied, with thought- 
 less directness. " I think he is a very clever man." 
 
 " O, I am so glad you like him," her cousin had cried, 
 with sudden ardor ; " I think as you do, that he is immensely 
 clever." 
 
 It was, of course, difficult to tell how much intention 
 there was in this apparently guileless declaration ; but 
 
1/6 THE MAMMON 
 
 Kate refused to take it seriously, or allow herself to be in 
 any way influenced by conjectures. It piqued her, how- 
 ever, more than she would admit, that the one man in 
 Torryville whom she had honored with her preference had 
 the impertinence to make himself precious, and seek no 
 opportunities to deepen the impression which he well knew 
 that he had made. Women, she thought, had a monopoly 
 in that kind of tactics, and it was beneath the dignity of a 
 man to rival them in intricate demeanor. She heard a 
 rumor that Horace was " laying pipes " for his fall campaign, 
 and that he already had a sure thing of it, if he desired to 
 go to the Assembly. But it seemed inconceivable that 
 anyone could find such business more important than the 
 cultivation of her valuable favor. She did not in the re- 
 motest way betray her solicitude on this subject ; but for 
 all that, she occupied herself a good deal with meditations 
 concerning the motive and intentions of this enigmatical 
 young man, who could afford to throw away an acquaint- 
 ance worth millions of dollars, as if it had been a burnt- 
 out match. 
 
 It was while her vanity yet suffered under the infer- 
 ences she was obliged to draw from Horace's conduct, that 
 he surprised her, one afternoon, by calling with the high 
 family buggy, and the ornamental Jim, and inviting her 
 to take a ride. It seemed an odd thing to do especially 
 climbing into that uncomfortable vehicle, which brought 
 you into such unpleasantly close contact with your escort ; 
 but she concluded, after a moment's hesitation, that she 
 was too interested in knowing what he would do next, to 
 forfeit the chance by straining a point of etiquette. So 
 off they started together, making a sensation in every 
 street where they appeared (though there was little exter- 
 nal evidence of excitement), and sending clouds of dust 
 out over the unmown meadows. Though the weather was 
 perfect, being neither too warm nor too cool, and the sun 
 shone with the most genial moderation as if he had no 
 wish in the world but to make himself agreeable her 
 companion seemed to be a little distant at times, and found 
 fault with the horse without the least visible pretext. 
 He was neither brilliant nor conspicuously amiable, but 
 was exerting himself with fair success to be polite. He 
 pointed with his whip to the various farm-houses they 
 passed, told who lived there, an'd the noteworthy circum- 
 stances in the lives of the inhabitants. One farmer had 
 been suspected of poisoning his first wife, though nothing 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 1/7 
 
 was ever proved against him ; another had made life a 
 burden to his consort, and had, with admirable courtesy, 
 furnished her with a rope when she threatened to hang 
 herself ; a third had objected to his daughter's marriage 
 to a neighbor's son, whereupon the young people had 
 taken a horse and buggy, and clasped in each other's em- 
 brace, had killed each other with a pistol, and the horse, 
 from old habit, had taken the homeward way and carried 
 them straight to the relentless father's door. There was 
 much more of the same sort ; and the conclusion he drew 
 from it was that it was a great mistake to suppose that the 
 worst crime was confined to the city. In the United 
 States as in Russia, people often committed crimes from 
 sheer boredom ; on the whole he didn't blame them. If 
 nothing else of interest happened in his life if he had 
 no ambition to furnish him with a definite object in living, 
 it was not improbable that he might take to beating his 
 wife, in order to furnish incidents and relieve the monot- 
 ony of existence for himself as well as for her. 
 
 Kate liked this badinage well enough, but was impelled 
 to object in order to keep the conversation going. 
 
 "But suppose your wife objected," she said, "what 
 would you do then ? " 
 
 " I intend to have her so well disciplined that she won't 
 object," he answered, with his serio-comic air. 
 
 " I am afraid you'll make some unpleasant discoveries 
 fcfter your marriage," she ejaculated, laughing. 
 
 " Perhaps. But I'm equal to dealing with them. Mar- 
 riage, you know, is a contract of mutual disagree- 
 ment " 
 
 " I should rather call it a compact of mutual conces- 
 sion." 
 
 "Oh, no, that would never do. Disagreement is inevit- 
 able. Concession on the man's part would be fatal to the 
 domestic peace. There must be a certain amount of des- 
 potism wise, paternal despotism, if you like in a well- 
 regulated family. Civilized people agree to disagree, and 
 disagree amicably ; savages disagree and fight about it." 
 
 " Then you class yourself among savages ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes ; I shouldn't wonder if I had a good deal of 
 the savage left in me." 
 
 "Then I hope you'll also marry a savage." 
 
 " I doubt that ; for I'm just civilized enough to have a 
 keen admiration for a civilized woman." 
 
 He turned and looked at her with sudden intentness ; 
 
 12 
 
1/8 THE MAMMON 
 
 and whether it was the unexpectedness of the glance or 
 its evident significance, she felt a vague tumult of heart, 
 and gazed out over the lake in order to hide her blushes. 
 Such a thing had never occurred in her previous experi- 
 ence. She had never met a man before who had thrown 
 her oif her base and made her lose her stately composure. 
 She knew the symptoms of love from novels, and sus- 
 pected that this was one of them. But the golden calm in 
 which her days had been passed had never before been 
 invaded by any emotion strong enough to ruffle her superb 
 equanimity. 
 
 Horace Larkin, conscious that he had scored a point, 
 whipped up the horse, and for a while they spun rapidly 
 over the smooth road along the lake shore. The water 
 shone like glass, and a fisherman who was rowing out to ex- 
 amine his traps sent long diverging undulations shoreward 
 from his bow. A few stray gulls, who had really no busi- 
 ness in an inland sea, kept soaring silently above him, and 
 occasionally dipped in his wake in order to make the ac- 
 quaintance of their mimic selves which floated up to meet 
 them from below. Ugly little boat-sheds, rugged tree-root 
 fences, and maples, pines, and locusts seemed to be running 
 a race for life toward the swift-footed Jim and the occu- 
 pants of the buggy, and Kate felt the exhilaration of the 
 speed and breathed w r ith deep contentment. She sat 
 leaning backward, regarding her companion furtively, and 
 endeavoring to analyze the impression he made upon her. 
 She had nearly recovered her wonted calm ; though there 
 was yet a centre of disturbance, as the weather reports say, 
 deep down below the surface, where the heart roots inter- 
 twine in the soul's primeval dusk. He was right, Kate 
 thought, or more than half right in calling himself a sav- 
 age ; and she was not quite sure but that it was the savage 
 in him which attracted her. She was conscious of that 
 dim fear which, in a woman of her type, may be the begin- 
 ning of love ; she knew that if he made up his mind irre- 
 vocably to make her his wife, she would in the end have 
 to surrender. She almost hoped with a hidden dread lest 
 her hope might be fulfilled, that he would dismiss the 
 thought of her and let her lapse back again into her trivial 
 existence, and go his own way without her. She had always 
 thought that she would marry a handsome man. He was 
 not handsome ; rather, perhaps, the reverse. The very 
 way he sat in the buggy, half relaxed, leaning forward with 
 his elbows on his knees ; the crude strength of his feat- 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 179 
 
 tfres, the haphazard fit of his clothes, the general lack of fin- 
 ish in his whole appearance, all showed how remote he was 
 from her sphere of life. He was not a thoroughbred ; she 
 came very near insinuating that he was not, according to 
 her former standard, a gentleman. And yet there was that 
 in him which made every man she had ever known seem 
 insignificant by comparison. He was a man every inch 
 of him and he gave the correct measure of himself when 
 he said that nothing in the line of his ambition was unat- 
 tainable to him. 
 
 When they had driven six or seven miles along the lake 
 shore, a road was found which led back to the town over 
 the hills and which afforded a much more extended view 
 of the landscape. The slope was rugged, and often the 
 overgrown boughs of the sycamores reached half-way 
 across the highway and dashed their moist leaves into the 
 faces of the occupants of the buggy. This occasioned a 
 little excitement and unforeseen collisions and contacts, to 
 which the proper Kate, if they had happened to anyone 
 but herself, would have applied the severest adjectives. 
 But somehow she failed, in this instance, to resent the im- 
 pertinence of the boughs, and her spirits rose with her 
 agitation, until she fairly surprised herself by her gay 
 laughter and senseless, unrestrained mirth. This was surely 
 not the Kate who left New York three weeks ago whose 
 glacial propriety had frozen the courage of all but the 
 most adventurous candidates for her hands. 
 
 It was about six o'clock in the afternoon when they 
 reached the University campus, and drove slowly past the 
 great piles of gray sandstone with their long, regular rows 
 of windows, in which the afternoon sun was burning with 
 a fiery glow. They met companies of students who came 
 from the laboratories, carrying their books and luncheon 
 baskets, and a few coeducational damsels who carried 
 tennis rackets. The broad gravelled avenues were planted 
 on either side with young elms and maples, which prom- 
 ised ample shade to future generations, arid a glaringly 
 red brick chapel pointed its spire against a glaringly blue 
 sky. Along the road lay, at short intervals, professors' 
 cottages, of all shades of architectural pretentiousness 
 and simplicity ; and below these were seen two rather 
 large and handsome buildings, which were the chapter 
 houses of the secret Greek letter societies. Horace was 
 explaining the character of these latter institutions to 
 Kate, as far as his pledge to respect their secrets would 
 
ISO THE MAMMON 
 
 permit, when suddenly a flag was run up on the roof of 
 one of the mysterious edifices. 
 
 " What does that mean ?" she asked, with the liveliest 
 curiosity. 
 
 " It is a greeting to you," he answered ; " it is my so- 
 ciety." 
 
 " How very nice of them. Do they receive visitors ?" 
 
 " Certainly. I shall be happy to show you the house if 
 you care to see it." 
 
 " I should like to very much. But tell me first what 
 you do there." 
 
 " Oh, we practise horrid midnight rites that would make 
 every individual hair upon your head stand on end like 
 the quills upon the fretful porcupine." 
 
 She laughed while he helped her out of the buggy ; Jim 
 seized the opportunity to shake himself so that the har- 
 ness rattled, but consented, without further remonstrance, 
 to be tied to the stone hitching-post. Half a dozen stu- 
 dents, anxious to do the honors of the house, appeared on 
 the piazza without waiting for the door bell to be rung, 
 and were introduced by Horace to Miss Van Schaak. 
 There was one young man named Lovel, who looked 
 pleased and bashful, and another named Cottrell, whose 
 cheerful self-confidence and loudly fashionable attire pro- 
 claimed him a denizen of the Pacific coast. These con- 
 stituted themselves a committee of reception, and exhib- 
 ited, with much pride, the handsome appointments of the 
 house. 
 
 " And now," said Kate to Cottrell, who, with superflu- 
 ous courtesy, insisted upon her taking his arm, " I should 
 like to see some of the mysteries." 
 
 " I regret to say that we are not permitted to admit 
 strangers to the Chapter Room," the Californian replied, 
 with sudden solemnity. 
 
 "Who forbids you?" 
 
 "Our laws and traditions." 
 
 Kate had to laugh again and turned to Horace, whom 
 she begged to exercise his authority. The door was then 
 thrown open to a large and sunny room with a beautiful 
 outlook upon the lake and the valley. 
 
 "Will you do me the honor to enter?" said Cottrell, 
 with a hospitable flourish of his hand ; " this is my humble 
 abode." 
 
 The room was bright and cheerful, and furnished in 
 rather a luxurious style. A scent of cigars pervaded the 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. l8l 
 
 atmosphere. The walls were covered with engravings 
 and sketches, all representing nude nymphs and goddesses, 
 ancient and modern, and in the spaces between the frames 
 were nailed a multitude of actresses in tights, and in a va- 
 riety of piquant attitudes. There were Ledas, Galateas, 
 Danae's, Venuses rising from the foam of the sea ; and 
 Lydia Thompsons, Maude Branscomes, Mary Andersons, 
 and other histrionic celebrities without number rising 
 from nobody knew where. Over the mantel-piece hung 
 a large framed embroidered motto whose legend was : 
 "Coeducation is the Thief of Time; "and between the 
 windows was seen the familiar one, " God will Provide," 
 in embroidery, to which was added in ornamental script, 
 " Cigars." 
 
 Kate was, at first, shocked at the young man's depravity, 
 but was too much of a woman of the world to betray her 
 displeasure. For all that, Cottrell detected an air of con- 
 straint in her face, and remarked, apologetically : 
 
 "You know we all have our specialties, otherwise there 
 wouldn't be any fun in living. My specialty is girls ; 
 Lovel's there is postage stamps." 
 
 The bashful Lovel blushed to his ears at this base 
 slander, but failed to make an intelligible rejoinder. 
 
 " Go into his room and see," cried Cottrell ; "his walls 
 are covered with envelopes so that you can't see an inch 
 of the woodwork." 
 
 " That's not for the stamps," the blushing youth stam- 
 mered ; " it is for the autographs." 
 
 " He has got Gladstone and Bismarck and Grant and 
 the Emperor of Germany, and no end of big guns," the Cal- 
 ifornian declared, leading the way to Level's apartment. 
 
 His description proved correct ; the walls were literally 
 hidden up to the very ceiling under envelopes bearing the 
 autographs of famous persons. From the sitting-room 
 Kate got a glimpse through the open door of the bed- 
 room, where there was an ash-tree bureau, with mirror of 
 the Eastlake pattern, to the frame of which were pinned 
 about a dozen photographs of the same young girl (and a 
 very sweet girl it was) ; and over the mantel-piece there 
 hung a delightfully awkward family group, with the father 
 and the mother in their best finery in the middle, and three 
 sons and four daughters, some with their hands resting at 
 right angles upon the other's shoulder, some with their 
 legs crossed, and all looking as glum and forlorn, as if they 
 had lost their last friend. 
 
1 82 THE MAMMON 
 
 While Kate was reading the character and history of the 
 young man in his environment (and though she was not 
 poetic, she did not fail to perceive a certain touching qual- 
 ity in it), a mellow brass gong was sounded, and Cottrell 
 invited her with much ceremony to honor the society with 
 her company at supper. She referred the question to 
 Horace, who declared that he could see no objection. 
 They accordingly were ushered into the dining-room, 
 which was adorned with colored wood engravings repre- 
 senting scenes from German university life, such as the 
 " La,ndesvater," " Fuchsritt," " Giinsemarsch," etc. There 
 was also a large picture of a man who was eating clam- 
 chowder with ecstatic enjoyment, and on the glass was 
 pasted a slip of paper on which was written : De Profundis 
 Clam-av-i, which, as Cottrell explained, means, being in- 
 terpreted, " I have a clam out of the depths." 
 
 Kate became, in the course of the supper, so interested 
 in these twenty-two young men, who surrounded the two 
 tables, that she almost forgot to eat. She liked to see their 
 envious admiration of Cottrell's audacity in entertaining 
 her, in such a free and easy way, and their ineffectual imi- 
 tation of his loud and swaggering California manners. It 
 had never occurred to her before that boys, during that 
 amphibious age when they are neither children nor men, 
 had any redeeming qualities whatever ; but she concluded 
 now that there is no age which has not its charm. To be 
 the only woman in such an assembly, to feel their shy 
 worship of her womanhood das ewig Weibliche was a 
 novel and delightful experience. She had never felt so 
 motherly in all her life before, so consciously exalted and 
 superior, so tender and tolerant of masculine absurdity 
 and folly. Their sudden explosions of mirth, their tele- 
 graphic communications by glances and grimaces, and the 
 irrepressible monkey tricks of a few of the younger ones, 
 which she appeared not to observe, made her realize the 
 characteristics of the genus boy as never before. The 
 quick blush which sprang to the cheeks of those who 
 found courage to address her ; their anxiety to conceal 
 their embarrassment from their comrades, and their heroic 
 feeling when they had acquitted themselves creditably, 
 seemed as good as a play. Her presence was an event to 
 them ; roused the chivalrous instinct in them, and incited 
 them to helpless demonstrations of gallantry which they 
 lacked courage to carry out in quite the bold style in which 
 thev were conceived. 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS, 183 
 
 When Kate drove down the hillside with Horace Larkin, 
 after this charming adventure, she was so adorably gen- 
 tle, simple, and amiable, that even his cool blood was 
 kindled and his eyes rested upon her with undisguised 
 admiration. A sense of well-being crept over him ; the 
 world, in spite of its imperfections, seemed more nearly 
 right than it had ever seemed before. There was a luxury 
 in living, and each breath seemed fuller and warmer, and 
 came from deeper down, and stung the blood into a richer 
 and stronger pulsation. He half marvelled to himself 
 that his conscience' troubled him so little; for it was an 
 unscrupulous game he had played with a certain tender 
 and fragile heart which had beat unwaveringly for him for 
 many years. He knew that this ride must have made 
 Bella miserable, and he tried to persuade himself that he 
 was sorry for her ; but was, in the end, constrained to 
 admit that he felt heartlessly and outrageously com- 
 fortable. 
 
 When Horace parted from Kate at the gate of the par- 
 sonage, he was conscious of having made great strides in 
 her acquaintance, perhaps in her good-will. He was too 
 careful a man to draw rash conclusions ; for he had an 
 overpowering sense of the millions which Kate represented, 
 and of the dignity they conferred upon their prospective 
 possessor. But this fact did not in the least lessen his 
 sense of his own worth. If he should, upon mature de- 
 liberation, conclude to marry Kate Van Schaak, he would 
 set about it rationally ; and there was nothing which 
 seemed beyond his power to achieve if he concentrated 
 his mind upon it. He was, however, by no means sure 
 that he wished to marry Kate ; she belonged to another 
 world than his, and might not adapt herself with readiness 
 to the conditions which to him were natural and satisfac- 
 tory. The question was certainly debatable, and he de- 
 termined to debate it exhaustively. 
 
 That night, when Kate Van Schaak had disrobed her lith</ 
 virginal form, and the light mists of slumber were gather-- 
 ing about her neat and compact brain, gentle strains ol 
 melody stole up to her window and mingled with her 
 dreams. She dreamed that she was being borne by twelve 
 strong eagles over the tops of the sun-gilded forests, and 
 that suddenly the eagles burst into song the most bliss- 
 ful and ecstatic song that had ever rung in her ears. But 
 gradually, as they sang they grew dimmer and dimmer, and 
 melted away in shreds of golden vapor, while the song, 
 
1 84 THE MAMMON 
 
 draining their life and substance, grew stronger and at 
 last filled the wide space round about. She awoke, and 
 sitting up in bed, listened intently. There could be no 
 doubt of it. Somebody was singing ; and not one, but 
 many. She heard distinctly a tenor, trembling on the 
 high G, calling her darling, imploring her in one moment 
 to awake, and in the next to slumber sweetly ; and a sub- 
 dued chorus of baritone and bass voices were expressing 
 their approval of his sentiments and joining in his demands. 
 She had to rub her eyes repeatedly before the situation 
 became clear to her ; for she had never been serenaded 
 in her life, and was not aware that that mediaeval cus- 
 tom had survived in university towns into the present 
 century. But when the sentimental quartet ceased and 
 the midnight air was startled by the abrupt and irrelevant 
 query : 
 
 " Said the bullfrog to the owl : 
 Oh, what'll you have to drink?" 
 
 she knew that her serenaders were the members of the 
 Greek Letter society who had entertained her during the 
 afternoon. The reply of the owl : 
 
 " Oh, since you are so very kind 
 I'll take a bottle of ink," 
 
 struck her as being so delightfully comical that she burst 
 out laughing and jumped out of bed. She did not know 
 what the etiquette of the occasion required her to do ; but 
 after a moment's hesitation she flung a dainty blue cash- 
 mere wrapper about her, opened the window, and stood 
 for a moment listening. Then she seized a bouquet of 
 roses which stood in a vase on the mantel-piece, smelled 
 it, and tossed it down to the singers. " I thank you, gen- 
 tlemen," she said, and closed the window. 
 
 But underneath there was a tremendous scramble for 
 the possession of the roses. 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 185 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 THE ALMIGHTY DOLLAR. 
 
 It had been perceived by several members of the house 
 of Larkin that there was a cloud upon the family horizon. 
 The Hon. Obed, who was not usually subject to the blues, 
 had, since the visit of the mysterious woman in his library, 
 never quite recovered his spirits. He had succeeded be- 
 yond expectation in keeping the secret of this woman's 
 claim upon him ; for no gossip connected with her visit had 
 found currency in the town. But the mere knowledge that 
 there was somebody in the world who, if she would, could 
 injure his reputation, troubled him and made him nervous 
 and uneasy. Of course he had done nothing of which he 
 needed to be ashamed ; nay, he had acted not only honor- 
 ably but even generously. But for all that, his folly in 
 concealing what there was no need of concealing gave an 
 ugly look to the affair, and would make people suspect 
 that there was something under it which would not bear 
 the light. Few would believe that his principal motive 
 for keeping his first marriage secret was his dread of los- 
 ing the affection of the present Mrs. Larkin, who stood on 
 strictly biblical ground as regards the remarriage of one 
 who had been divorced. He had, indeed, sounded her 
 upon the subject a few weeks before their wedding, and 
 had found her uncompromising. That his first wife, as 
 soon as she had used up the money he had given her, 
 would make a second descent upon him, and perhaps in 
 pure wantonness expose him, seemed more than likely; 
 and the probability that she would continue these tactics 
 as long as she remained above ground, destroyed his zest 
 in living and made him (as a mere provisional measure) 
 inclined to prepare for the end. The only consoling cir- 
 cumstance, to which he clung with tenacious hope, was 
 the prospect that her vice might, when indulged without 
 restraint, soon quench her baneful and unwholesome ex- 
 istence. He surprised himself again and again, praying 
 
1 86 THE MAMMON 
 
 that this might soon come to pass wishing with a venge- 
 ful ardor that she might be come up with in the next 
 world, and suffer tenfold (as he did not doubt that she 
 would) the miseries which she had inflicted upon him. 
 For a deacon and pillar of the church, these were, of course, 
 not very laudable sentiments ; and Mr. Larkin, who was a 
 stauncher believer than his pastor, was often frightened 
 at the rank growth of 'hate and wickedness which he dis- 
 covered in the depth of his heart. He comforted himself, 
 however, easily with the thought that, as men go, he was, 
 on the whole, a fairly creditable specimen of his race, and 
 considerably above the average as regards moral worth. 
 If God, who was merciful toward the errors of His chil- 
 dren, should draw the line so as to exclude him from His 
 presence, He would have a very insignificant remnant left 
 to be partakers of His glory. Mr. Larkin had a faint sus- 
 picion that this line of reasoning was not strictly Chris- 
 tian ; but he found himself pursuing it, half automatically, 
 whenever he looked back upon his life, which, if it had 
 been investigated by the committee presided over by the 
 Recording Angel, would have revealed several incidents 
 which could only be made to look well by the most un- 
 blushing partisanship. 
 
 It was while this mood was upon him that Mr. Larkin, 
 one day early in June, dropped in upon Horace at the 
 office where the latter was seated, tilted back in his chair 
 with his heels on his desk, smoking a strong cigar. He 
 did not change his attitude as his uncle entered, but 
 nodded to him over his shoulder and begged him to find 
 himself >a seat. The old man, with a troubled expression 
 about his eyes and the corners of his mouth, pulled for- 
 ward a chunky, black-painted chair, placed his feet upon 
 a table by the window, and began thoughtfully to pick his 
 teeth with a quill. He sat long in silence, letting his eyes 
 wander over the long rows of law-books, bound in calf, 
 with red or black labels for the titles, and no sound was 
 heard except the clicks of his toothpick. The office con- 
 sisted of an outer and an inner room, the furniture of 
 which was old and rather shabby. There was a small iron 
 safe under the desk, four or five chairs, a couple of spit- 
 toons filled with saw-dust, and a table covered with briefs 
 tied together with blue and red ribbons. 
 
 Having exhausted the uses of the toothpick, Mr. Larkin 
 pulled out his pocket knife, which looked old enough to be 
 an heirloom, and began to clean his nails. 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 187 
 
 "Why do you smoke that vile weed ? " he asked, address- 
 ing himself apparently to the top of the bookcase. 
 
 " It's a fifteen-center," Horace replied, " but if it is dis- 
 agreeable to you, I will throw it away." 
 
 He flung the half-smoked cigar into the spittoon, rose, 
 and began to rummage among the papers in an open 
 drawer. 
 
 "Will you be alone for about an hour? " Mr. Larkin in- 
 quired, listlessly. 
 
 " Yes, if you wish it ; I can give orders to Lawson that 
 we are not to be disturbed." 
 
 "All right." 
 
 Horace went into the outer office, spoke to his clerk, and 
 returned, locking the door after him. 
 
 There was another pause of five minutes, during which 
 Mr. Larkin devoted all his attention to a troublesome hang- 
 nail. 
 
 " I have been thinking," he began, staring at the tips of 
 his fingers, " that I shall have to make a new will. I tore 
 up the old one this morning." 
 
 " I am at your service, sir," Horace observed, carelessly ; 
 "it is never good policy to sleep over night intestate for a 
 man who has as complicated interests as you have." 
 
 Mr. Larkin made no answer to this, but clinched the 
 hang-nail close to the root, and looked much relieved. 
 
 " I want you to note down on a piece of paper the be- 
 quests and other items," he said; "then write the thing 
 out in due legal form, and I will wait here and sign it." 
 
 " Very well. I'm ready." 
 
 " To my beloved wife, Mary Louise Larkin, in case she 
 survives me, the income of $200,000, the capital to revert, 
 at her death, to my nephew, Horace Larkin ; to my wife, 
 also, the house with fixings, horses, and carriages in trust 
 during her lifetime. Have you got that ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "To my beloved daughter, Gertrude Larkin " 
 
 Horace glanced up from his paper with a lively in- 
 terrogation in his face. 
 
 " Do you mean daughter or adopted daughter ? " he 
 asked ; "you know you make yourself liable to have the 
 will contested, if either name or relation is inaccurately 
 stated." 
 
 "I mean what I say," the old man rejoined. "To my 
 beloved daughter, Gertrude Larkin have you got that ? " 
 
 "Wait a minute. Yes, now I've.got it," 
 
1 88 THE MAMMON 
 
 "One hundred and fifty thousand dollars in bonds and 
 stocks of Chicago and Northwestern, New York Central 
 and Hudson River, and stock of Torryville National Bank." 
 
 Mr. Larkin here pulled' some papers from his breast 
 pocket, and examined them carefully. 
 
 " My nephew, Horace Larkin, son of my deceased 
 brother Ezekiel," he went on, pausing thoughtfully at 
 every other word, " I make the trustee of the property 
 to be held in trust for my wife, during her lifetime, 
 and to revert to him at her death." 
 
 The dreariness of his expression was illuminated by a 
 gleam of shrewd scrutiny as he uttered these words. He 
 knew well that Horace had for years regarded himself as 
 his probable heir, and had planned his future on a scale 
 befitting the possessor of millions. He was curious now 
 to see how he bore the shock of his disappointment. 
 Scratch scratch scratch went the quill, as steadily as 
 ever ; and the coarse, somewhat tumbled hair, with the 
 stiff bristly tuft that always grew straight up from his 
 crown, looked irritatingly stubborn and unconcerned. 
 Mr. Larkin, who was just the man to appreciate such 
 stoicism, began almost to waver in his resolution ; he felt an 
 admiration for this masterful, but self-restrained nephew, 
 which he would have liked to express, if he had not 
 feared to confuse again his carefully matured plans. 
 
 " Horace," he said, " would you care to know why I have 
 left things that way ?" 
 
 "I should not presume to ask you, sir ; I don't question 
 your right to do with yours as you see fit." 
 
 " I know that. But you had expected that I would treat 
 you more handsomely, I reckon." 
 
 " Perhaps I had, sir. But it's all right. You need have 
 no fear of my making a row about it." 
 
 " No ; and that reminds me that I want you to put in a 
 clause, declaring that if any of my heirs or legatees con- 
 test my will, he or she shall forfeit all benefit accruing to 
 him or her under that instrument." 
 
 " All right. I think that's quite proper." 
 
 The old man pulled the stump of a lead pencil from his 
 vest pocket and began to figure on the back of an envelope. 
 " Horace," he said^ while yet absorbed in his figures, "you 
 may scarcely believe it ; but but it is for your own good 
 that I intend to leave you no money until you are so rich 
 that two hundred thousand more or less will make no 
 difference to vou." 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 189 
 
 " That time may never come," said Horace, plunging his 
 hands into his pockets, and rattling with his keys and 
 small change. 
 
 " Stuff. I know a man when I see him. You will go to 
 Congress ; you'll rise high in public life. I won't say 
 you'll become President, because that is more or less of a 
 lottery. If I gave you half a million dollars outright, as I 
 once thought of doing, I should be taking away from you 
 the chief incentive to ambition. I should be compelling you 
 to waste your life taking care of your money, when you 
 might be doing something better. I tell you, the fun that's 
 to be had out of money is in getting it, not in spending it. 
 A million is a hard task master. Imean to leave you your 
 own master. I began as a poor boy myself, with two empty 
 hands ; and I never should have been the man I am, if I 
 had started at the top. I believe it is a calamity to a man 
 of your ability to commence his career with his pockets 
 full of money." 
 
 " To be consistent, then, you ought to leave your money 
 to an enemy," Horace observed, after a pause. 
 
 "No," Mr. Larkin answered, "I intend to leave it to my 
 University. There it will do good. You may put down 
 one million dollars to the general endowment fund of the 
 Larkin University. The residue of the estate, after all 
 bequests have been paid, is to be applied to the purchase of 
 machinery for the department of mechanical engineering." 
 
 Mr. Larkin enumerated a dozen other bequests to chari- 
 table institutions in various parts of the State ; $50,000 to 
 the Hampton College for the higher education of colored 
 people, and $20,000 to the Carlisle School for Indians. 
 Altogether he disposed of something over two million 
 dollars. He named Horace Larkin and William Dallas 
 executors of his will, with an annual salary of $4,000 for 
 two years. 
 
 Horace seated himself again at his desk, and in the course 
 of an hour had composed a document in legal form, satis- 
 factory to the testator. He read it aloud, made a few 
 changes of expression at Mr. Larkin's suggestion, seized 
 the pen to dot an i or cross at, and finally attached the seal. 
 He called his clerk Lawson in to witness the signature, 
 but begged him to wait until two other witnesses could 
 be procured ; for, as some of the property was situated in 
 Western States, where the law requires three witnesses, it 
 was thought best to run no risks. Horace himself stepped 
 across the street to the Post-office, and returned in a 
 
THE MAMMON 
 
 moment with the postmaster. Mr. Gleason, the druggist, 
 who was also a discreet man, was unhappily not in ; but 
 was expected every minute. He therefore left word with 
 the prescription clerk to send him over as soon as he 
 arrived. But as he re-entered his office, he found Dr. 
 Hawk seated there, conversing with his uncle. 
 
 " I came here on a little private business," the doctor 
 explained. " I want to know if you'll collect a bill of $56 
 for me." 
 
 " Oh, yes," Horace answered; " small favors thankfully 
 received." 
 
 " You needn't do it, you know, if you don't want to," 
 cried Hawk, a trifle huffed. 
 
 " I know that. I am not in the habit of doing anything, 
 unless I want to." 
 
 They talked on for a few minutes, and Horace agreed to 
 collect the claim. Mr. Gleason, in the meanwhile, did not 
 arrive, and the postmaster was getting uneasy. 
 
 " Well, there is no use waiting for him," Mr. Larkin 
 observed, rubbing his bristly cheeks with his hand ; " here 
 is the doctor ; he'll do just as well." 
 
 Horace, from behind the doctor's back, sent his uncle a 
 warning glance ; but the old gentleman failed to perceive 
 its meaning, and continued : 
 
 " I have been making out a document of some little con- 
 sequence, gentlemen ; in fact, it is my last will and testa- 
 ment, and I want you to witness my signature." 
 
 He moved toward the desk, took the will out of the 
 drawer where it had been temporarily concealed, seized a 
 pen which he tried on the back of an envelope, and wrote 
 slowly and carefully, 
 
 OBED LARKIN. 
 
 The postmaster executed with due solemnity an awk- 
 ward and rickety signature in the place which Horace in- 
 dicated ; and the clerk, Lawson, made some flowing and 
 ornamental flourishes in the style of Gaskell's Compen- 
 dium. When the doctor's turn came, he found difficulty 
 in getting properly seated ; pulled the leather cushion of 
 the chair first one way and then another ; and finally asked 
 Horace if lie didn't have a stub pen, as he could not write 
 with any other kind. By the time all his preparations 
 were finished, Dr. Hawk had managed to glean nearly 
 the entire contents of the will, The words " To my be- 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 191 
 
 loved daughter Gertrude Larkin, I give and bequeath the 
 sum of $150,000 " burned themselves into his memory, and 
 followed him about, after he had risen, like a writing of 
 flame. Gertrude, Mr. Larkin's daughter ! Well, if he had 
 known that before, much would have been different. He 
 had been excessively stupid not to have suspected it. But 
 that venerable old gentleman, that pillar of the church, 
 who would have thought that he had skeletons in his 
 closet ? The doctor left the office of Larkin Brothers in a 
 state of excitement which he had not experienced since 
 the day he saw the strange woman with Gertrude in the 
 Drum Head Ravine. He began to put two and two to- 
 gether, and soon he had in his mind the material for a full- 
 fledged romance. 
 
 "It wasn't very smart of you, uncle," said Horace, as he 
 handed Mr. Larkin the fateful document, "to have that 
 loon, Hawk, as witness of signature. Didn't you see me 
 scowl at you ? " 
 
 " Why, no. What's the matter with Hawk ? " 
 " Well, he's a sort of fancy chap. Too many frills to be 
 honest. I wouldn't trust him with a dollar, except on first- 
 class security," 
 
192 THE MAMMON 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 A DELICATE SITUATION. 
 
 A man cannot add a cubit to his height, the Bible says, 
 however much he taketh thought thereof ; but it seems 
 sometimes as if he could take a cubit off. Horace Larkin 
 felt himself distinctly a smaller man, when he walked 
 home from the office after having executed his uncle's 
 will. It was as if he had been reduced from six to five feet 
 three. He had never realized before what an important 
 aid to his self-esteem the prospect of that million was. He 
 could not deny that he was grievously disappointed, but 
 he was yet fair-minded enough to credit the old man with 
 the motive which he professed. He was not at all angry 
 with him. If there was anybody with whom he was out of 
 patience, it was that omnivorous young monster, the Uni- 
 versity, which could not be satisfied with the million it 
 had already gobbled up, but must needs devour the re- 
 maining one too. 
 
 Horace Larkin walked about for three days in a state of 
 intense preoccupation, pondering this question in all its 
 possible bearings. There was one phase of it which had 
 presented itself to him at the first moment, but which he 
 lacked courage to contemplate clearly. Was his first duty 
 toward himself or toward Bella? Would it kill Bella if he 
 broke with her ? Was not her violent affection for him 
 rather a pathological than a psychological phenomenon ? 
 Was it not a direct result of her hysterical condition an 
 attendant symptom of poor nerves ? With no money, and 
 a penniless wife, without distinction of any kind (unless 
 her love for him might be counted a distinction), what fate 
 could he rationally look forward to ? Ten or twenty 
 squalid years of toil, slow and gradual rise, politically ; 
 many setbacks, no doubt, and perhaps in the end a cheap, 
 moderate success, or perhaps even failure. He had never 
 been aware before how inextricably that million had been 
 interwoven with all his plans for the future, and entered 
 into the very foundation of the daring tower of fortune 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 193 
 
 which in his dreams he had erected. Then (shall I confess 
 it ?) there was one humiliating little suspicion which had 
 recently insinuated itself into his mind, and that it was im- 
 possible to get rid of. He was, after all, a mere village 
 character, and had never measured himself with strong and 
 brilliant men on the great arena of life. Kate Van Schaak 
 had come to him as a messenger from that greater world 
 with which he was wholly unacquainted, and had made 
 him in a dim way feel his limitations. She had raised his 
 standard of womanhood, and had made, him regret his 
 choice by casting his fiancee cruelly into the shade. For 
 an ambitious and proud man to have this conviction, that 
 the companion of his life was "a little below par" would, 
 in the eyes of the fine society which he would one day 
 enter, cast discredit upon him instead of adding to his 
 lustre was a haunting torture, heavy and hopeless like 
 a nightmare. Then again, to imagine himself inarching 
 down the long radiant years by the side of the stately 
 and gracious Kate, commanding homage, looking down 
 amiably upon the multitude, feeling the distinction of 
 wealth and fame and power in every fibre that was a 
 vision that drew his eyes and his whole soul with irresist- 
 ible fascination. There was no help for it succeed he 
 must ; and money was essential to success. Life would be 
 a burden to him without success, as with a mean success ; 
 he could afford to take no risks. He would break with 
 Bella, and he would bend all his energies to marrying 
 Kate. 
 
 He had at first a forlorn hope that Bella might possibly 
 be induced to give him his conge'. He had conspicuously 
 neglected her while Kate had visited at the parsonage, 
 and expected to be taken to task for his unlover-like con- 
 duct. But Bella, conscious of the worth of the prize she 
 had secured, refused to risk its loss by too great exaction 
 on her part. She chose the safer course to confide in 
 Kate and trust to her honor. She had, indeed, promised 
 Horace to keep their engagement secret until he consented 
 to her making it public. But in the first place it was more 
 than flesh and blood could bear to conceal the distinction 
 which such a relation conferred upon her in the eyes of 
 the town ; and secondly, publicity gave an added sense of 
 security which was not to be despised in the case of a 
 cool and slippery lover. It- was the day before Kate's re- 
 turn to New York that Bella took this great resolution ; 
 for, she reasoned, a girl like Kate would be no less for- 
 
 13 
 
THE MAMMON' 
 
 midable a rival in New York than in Torryville. Distance 
 would not destroy the enchantment of her millions, and 
 the trail of luminous memories she left behind her would 
 not soon lose its lustre. 
 
 With her heart in her throat Bella knocked at the door 
 of her brilliant cousin, who was standing in the middle of 
 the room, directing Tillie, one of the Rodents, who, with an 
 air of flattered importance was folding up a gorgeous dress 
 which was spread out upon the bed. Bella, excusing her 
 intrusion, asked if she could not help her pack. 
 
 "No, I thank you," Kate replied, "Tillie is doing quite 
 well. Now, put that bonnet in the box, Tillie, and put it 
 into the lid of the trunk." 
 
 Tillie grinned with pleasure. She had never felt so 
 highly honored in all her life. And to be preferred to her 
 favored sister that was a joy which made her almost dizzy. 
 Her brown, alert eyes flew about the room like those of a 
 jubilant mouse ; and she cast demurely triumphant 
 glances over at her sister, who had wearily seated herself 
 at the window. The excitement of the last weeks had 
 visibly told on Bella's health, which had, indeed, always 
 been delicate. The rings about her eyes were darker than 
 usual, and that gray undertone in her complexion, which 
 never was visible except when she was distressed, spoiled 
 the beauty of her clear and well-cut features. Curious 
 little tremors and twitchings appeared about her eyelids 
 and lips, and she tapped her little slippered foot against 
 the floor, being utterly unable to sit still. 
 
 When, at last, the trunk was packed and Tillie could find 
 no further excuse for lingering, the confidential mood had 
 left her, and she would rather have cried for sheer nervous- 
 ness and vexation. Kate, who was in radiant humor, 
 walked about from the bureau to the bed and from the 
 bed to the trunk, humming the air " Landlord, fill the 
 flowing bowl," and it seemed impossible to open a serious 
 conversation to such an accompaniment. And yet, Bella 
 could not let the opportunity slip by ; it might never 
 return. 
 
 "Cousin Kate, "she began at last, tremulously, "I am 
 so sorry you are going." 
 
 That was not, perhaps, strictly true, but it was one of 
 those white lies which custom has stamped with its ap- 
 proval. 
 
 " Well, dear, I am sorry too," Kate hummed to the bac- 
 chanalian air. 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 195 
 
 " I wonder if this weather is going to continue," observed 
 Bella, after a pause, looking out of the window. 
 
 " It is usually best when it does not continue," answered 
 Kate, facetiously. 
 
 " I don't see what I shall do when you are gone, Kate ; 
 I shall simply die." 
 
 She lied now from sheer vacuity ; only to fill up the 
 pauses, and by some circuitous route to lead up to the all- 
 important topic. 
 
 " It is very kind of you to say so, dear ; but I am heart- 
 less enough to think that we shall both survive it," Kate 
 replied, with smiling equanimity. "You know, we belong 
 to a long-lived family." 
 
 There was just the needed note in that reply a little 
 caressing touch, as it were for which Bella had waited. 
 She could not walk into Kate's room and fling her tender 
 secret down before her as a clerk tosses a piece of goods 
 on a counter for the inspection of a customer. No, she 
 had to have a bit of a melodious prelude, through which 
 she could glide naturally into the grand and soul-stirring 
 theme. 
 
 " Kate," she said, with burning cheeks and throbbing 
 temples, " you have been so sweet to me that I can't bear 
 to have you go away without telling you something 
 which which " 
 
 "Well, which what!" cried Kate, not unsympatheti- 
 cally. 
 
 The tears trembled in Bella's eyes. She could not go on. 
 
 " Well, dear, you are going to be married, isn't that it ?" 
 queried her cousin, fixing her bright brown eyes upon her 
 with a smile which seemed a little strained. 
 
 "Yes," Bella faltered, making a gigantic effort to sup- 
 press her tears. " Will you come to my wedding, Kate ? 
 You know it's not to be this year, but probably next." 
 
 She felt immensely relieved that Kate took it so coolly ; 
 and her quiet, superior smile made her positively grateful. 
 She had done her cruel injustice in her thought, and was 
 longing to do penance. 
 
 " But before I congratulate you," Kate observed, putting 
 a couple of ivory-handled brushes into their places in the 
 silver toilet-case, " you must tell me who it is. It must 
 be somebody who has my approval. Otherwise, I shan't 
 come to the wedding." 
 
 "Who it is ? Why, don't you know that ?" cried Bella, 
 in a sort of wild falsetto ; " can't y^ou guess ?" 
 
196 THE MAMMON 
 
 "Why, no, I haven't an idea." 
 
 Miss Van Schaak had a very distinct idea ; but for some 
 occult reason she chose to appear obtuse. She was dim- 
 ly displeased that Horace Larkin had gone and thrown 
 himself away on so insignificant a little body as her cousin; 
 and she was not going to make it easy for the latter to di- 
 vulge that unpleasant fact. She had no notion that she 
 wished Horace for herself ; nay, she thought the 
 probabilities were that, do what he might, he could never 
 win her ; but for all that, she disliked having him lower 
 himself in her estimation, and that was what he had done 
 in accepting the sordid commonplace lot of a village law- 
 yer, married to a poor little hysterical village belle. The 
 " desire of the moth for the star " was, to her mind, a laud- 
 able desire, even though it did the star no good and di- 
 verted the moth from his proper sphere of usefulness. 
 But the desire of the moth for the moth she regarded with 
 unutterable scorn. 
 
 Bella had risen to her feet. She stood in her loose pink 
 wrapper with a lace cascade, supporting herself against 
 the back of a chair. 
 
 "Why, dear Kate," she ejaculated, with her anxious 
 smile, "you surely know it is Horace Larkin who else 
 could it be?" 
 
 " Well, I am sure he's very nice," Kate replied, a little 
 listlessly ; "you have my best wishes, dear." 
 
 " Oh, I'm so happy, Kate. You can't imagine how nappy 
 I am." 
 
 And to demonstrate how happy she was, she flung her- 
 self upon her cousin's neck and sobbed. Kate, though she 
 did not feel extravagantly sympathetic, respected herself 
 too much to be unkind ; so she smoothed the girl's hair, 
 kissed her cheeks, and begged her to compose herself. 
 But Bella had been too long pent up with her misery to 
 forego now the luxurious relief of tears. She wept as if her 
 heart would break ; wept so that her whole frame shook ; 
 and then suddenly remembered that, if she kept on, she 
 would lose control of herself and go into hysterics. So, 
 with an odd abruptness she choked down the last sob, re- 
 leased Kate from her embrace, and walked blindly to the 
 window, where she stood long leaning on her hand against 
 the frame, pressing an absurd little ball of a handkerchief 
 against her eyes, and heaving now and then a shivering 
 sigh. 
 
 Kate presently selected from her homoeopathic medicine 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 
 
 case a bottle with the proper number, took from it two 
 pellets, which she put into a glass of water and forced 
 Bella to drink. Whether among the panaceas of that con- 
 venient system there is one for disappointment in love or a 
 broken heart, I do not know ; but Kate, who had great con- 
 fidence in her pellets, felt sure that they would go to the 
 right spot and effect a cure. She had a pleasant sense of 
 having done her duty when this task was accomplished. 
 There was a quiet satisfaction in her handsome and intel- 
 ligent face, which was like an advertisement of a good 
 conscience. It was, perhaps, by way of further indul- 
 gence to this good conscience that she sprayed Bella with 
 a very expensive cologne, of rare virtue, and cajoled her 
 into a rocking-chair, where she had to submit to further 
 amateur doctoring until, in sheer self-defence, she declared 
 that she felt perfectly well. 
 
 "Well," said Kate, " I want you to keep this phial. It 
 never fails to relieve a nervous headache and an unstrung 
 condition generally." 
 
 There stood on the bureau a small battery of cut-glass 
 bottles, with pink and blue ribbons about their necks, con- 
 taining the most marvellous liquids and essences. 
 
 Kate took up one after the other, allowed her cousin to 
 smell it, and initiated her into its uses. And Bella, in 
 spite of her sorrow, grew more and more interested, and 
 began to feel an affection for Kate which she had never 
 felt before. Each wonderful bottle, as it was opened and 
 smelled, increased her humility and her admiration for her 
 cousin. Life was evidently a more complicated affair than 
 she, in her innocence, had dreamed. 
 
 And so the tete-a-tete which began with love ended with 
 perfumery. 
 
198 THE MAMMON 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 THE RAVINE PARTY. 
 
 While Horace Larkin was struggling with the problem 
 how to get rid of his fiancee in the most decent and unob- 
 trusive manner, Dr. Hawk was endeavoring to reconquer 
 the affection of one whom he had alienated. He had fre- 
 quently been on the point of proposing to Gertrude 
 during the last two years, and would probably, by this 
 time, have settled his fate one way or another, if Kate 
 Van Schaak had not appeared on the scene. The doctor 
 was not in the least ashamed of himself that he, like so 
 many others, had gone to worship the strange goddess ; 
 but he was at his wit's end to invent a plausible lie by 
 which this dance around the Golden Calf might be made 
 to appear compatible with unswerving loyalty to the true 
 and only idol of his heart. He could not, of course, go 
 and tell Gertie the unvarnished truth, that he had for two 
 years dawdled with the idea of marrying her, but had 
 been deterred by the uncertainty of her position in Mr. 
 Larkin's house ; that recently he had gotten a glimpse of 
 her father's will (which had in the most satisfactory man- 
 ner settled all his doubts), and that accordingly he was 
 now most anxious to make up for his past delinquencies 
 and lead her straight to the altar. The only lie he could 
 think of had a stale and unprofitable look, and he scarcely 
 knew whether Gertie was gullible enough to be caught in 
 so simple a trap. That he had flung himself at Kate's 
 feet in a fit of despair, because of Gertrude's cruelty and 
 wanton rebuffs well, as a naked bit of prose, such a 
 statement might excite derision among men, but when 
 properly acted before a young and impressionable woman 
 it might easily prove effective. Moreover, he had Aleck's 
 hostility to fall back upon as a last resort, and further in 
 the background complications with his mythical mortgagee, 
 remorse for past wickedness, feeling of unworthiness, and 
 other picturesque sentiments which might easily be dressed 
 up so as to be extremely impressive. Gertrude had been 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 199 
 
 incautious enough to betray her resentment of his atten- 
 tion to the great heiress, and that was an encouraging 
 circumstance. If she had been clever enough to seem 
 indifferent, he would have had less hope of success. 
 
 There was a fashion in Torryville, originated, it was 
 said, by Professor Ramsdale, which had of late become 
 quite popular. In England people are invited, in the early 
 summer, to garden and lawn parties, where they drink tea 
 and catch cold in distinguished company. In Torryville 
 there .were no lawns of any consequence, but there were 
 ravines that rivalled in picturesqueness those of the Yel- 
 lowstone. It therefore occurred to Professor Ramsdale 
 to agitate the question of giving ravine parties. The 
 ladies of the faculty who were not very enterprising 
 frowned upon the proposal, but the undaunted professor 
 started off one fine day with some younger tutors and half 
 a dozen "co-eds," improvised a co-educational boat-race, 
 macfe coffee and fried fish over an out-of-door fire, sent up 
 rockets and Roman candles which looked beautiful against 
 the nocturnal sky, and managed to have such a delightful 
 time, 5 that those who had pronounced ravine parties im- 
 proper made haste to explain that they had meant some- 
 thing entirely different, and would be charmed to accept 
 the next invitation. 
 
 One afternoon during Commencement week, Gertrude 
 and Dr. Hawk found themselves, by some chance, tcte-a- 
 tete on a floating pier down on the Nile, and presently dis- 
 covered that they were there for the same purpose. The 
 rest of the party, consisting of Ramsdale, Tutor Rodney 
 (a slim, bashful, but competent- looking man), Pussy 
 Dallas, and a dozen others, mostly co-educational damsels, 
 soon arrived, carrying wraps and luncheon baskets, and 
 were packed into four boats which were pushed out, as 
 soon as they were loaded, from the insecure pier. The 
 day was warm and clear, and the sky dazzlingly blue. The 
 young wheat, with its fruitful ears yet folded in glistening 
 sheaths, grew in long, bright-green belts down the slopes 
 toward the water, and made the darker green of the 
 meadows, with its brownish undertone, look shabby by 
 comparison. Here and there a square patch of buckwheat 
 relieved with its white bloom the monotony of green ; and 
 shingled and slate-covered roofs, with their whitewashed 
 chimneys, peeped forth among the scant foliage of apple 
 and cherry orchards. But the maples and chestnuts reared 
 their abundant crowns against the sky, and flung their 
 
200 THE MAMMON 
 
 grateful shade over the farm-houses, whose small windows 
 and white-painted walls gleamed with a snug and sheltered 
 contentment among the gray colonnades of their trunks. 
 
 Gertrude and the doctor had not much to say to each 
 other, as they stood there on the pier waiting for the com- 
 pany to get ready. For, without any agency of their own, 
 they had been assigned to the same boat. Ramsdale and 
 Rodney, in white flannel shirts and knickerbockers, were 
 working like beavers getting the dories afloat ; while Hawk, 
 in a new and rather modish summer suit, stood blandly 
 looking on, offering them no assistance. They had just 
 gotten the last dory safely launched, when the 'Varsity 
 Eight appeared on their pier, carrying their light paper 
 boat, which with the utmost care they deposited upon the 
 stream. They were dressed in red and white skull-caps, 
 sleeveless jerseys, and tights. The muscles on their arms 
 and legs swelled magnificently under the sun-browned 
 skin, " as slopes a brook over a little stone," and they 
 walked about with a paradisaical immodesty which brought 
 back the golden days of athletic sports in ancient Greece. 
 It was a beautiful spectacle to see them all seated 
 motionless, with oars uplifted, in the frail shell, awaiting 
 the signal of "the stroke," while their inverted images 
 trembled under them with the ripples on the stream. And 
 when the sharp and brief command sounded, with what 
 splendid precision they struck the water, and with what 
 arrowy speed they shot down the Nile and out into the open 
 lake. The girls in Ramsdale's party gave them a cheer 
 on the way and waved their handkerchiefs after them. 
 But within a few minutes they looked small and far away, 
 darting through sunshine and shadow, and the captain's 
 commands which re-echoed from the shore faded with a 
 muffled ring in the distance. 
 
 Gertrude was conscious of a strong repugnance to the 
 doctor when he seated himself at her side, in the stern of 
 the dory, and she was not very responsive to his first efforts 
 to re-establish confidential relations. He chose to appear 
 somewhat distracted and melancholy, and the remarks he 
 made all bore the mark of some hidden and mysterious 
 distress. He could not speak freely, of course, in the pres- 
 ence of so many, but he managed to throw out some vague 
 hints which tormented and worried her. While the co-eds 
 and the gentlemen sang college songs, whose noisy chorus 
 drowned all other sounds, he heaved deep sighs and mut- 
 tered, "Life, life, life!" with a heart-rending intonation. 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 2OI 
 
 " Whom did you get all this off on, last time ? " Gertrude 
 queried, with a mocking laugh ; but for all that, her con- 
 science was uneasy and she was more impressed than she 
 chose to show. 
 
 " That from you, Miss Gertie ? That from you ? " sighed 
 the doctor, as if his injury was really too deep for words. 
 " Have I deserved that from you ?" 
 
 u That, and much more than I shall ever have a chance 
 of repaying," said Gertrude, heartlessly. 
 
 " Well, life is a hard school. It hardens one to bear 
 things which it would seem impossible to survive." 
 
 " Oh, I have no fear of your not surviving. I really be- 
 lieve you grow fat on love affairs. I have been told that 
 you make love to every woman you meet." 
 
 "Alas, alas ! If you but knew," he whispered, tragically, 
 and bowed his head like an injured creature that disdains 
 to ward off the threatened blow.^ 
 
 But just at that moment the song stopped, and Gertrude 
 found it unsafe to pursue the subject further. It was quite 
 a relief when the stalwart Californian, Cottrell, who was 
 also of the party, engaged her in conversation, and courted 
 her in a florid and masculinely condescending style which 
 was quite amusing. It was half-past three or four o'clock 
 when they arrived at their destination. A fire was made 
 at the entrance to the ravine, and both gentlemen and 
 ladies engaged in a search for fagots and dry branches 
 with which to keep it alive. The gorge was wide, almost 
 flat in the bottom, and covered on both sides with an irreg- 
 ular growth of underbrush, from which loomed up here 
 and there a great storm-twisted and weather-beaten pine, 
 or an oak, that, losing its footing in the shallow soil, had 
 become top-heavy and grew almost horizontally out from 
 the overhanging cliffs. A stream, which fell from a 
 height of two hundred feet and meandered with serpen- 
 tine windings through the underbrush, had shrunk to a 
 mere brook under the warm rays of the June sun ; and the 
 slate quarry at the upper end of the ravine, which depended 
 upon the water-power for its activity, had suspended oper- 
 ations until the autumn rains again should stimulate the 
 lagging pulses of nature. 
 
 The co-educational boat-race, for which some burlesque 
 prizes had been provided, did not in the least interest 
 Hawk ; but he saw in it a chance of getting rid of an in- 
 convenient rival who, with youthful insolence, was monop- 
 olizing Gertrude, and ignoring all hints that his presence 
 
2O2 THE MAMMON 1 
 
 was desired elsewhere. Accordingly the crafty doctor 
 suggested to Ramsdale that Cottrell would make a capital 
 umpire, and the unhappy youth, though he saw through 
 the ruse, could find no excuse for declining. 
 
 " Miss Gertie," began the doctor, when his diplomacy 
 had triumphed, " I have been wanting to ask you for a 
 long time why you treat me so shabbily." 
 
 "How long?" asked Gertie with crushing sarcasm. 
 "What a capacious heart you must have, Doctor," she 
 added, lightly. " I wish I could rival your beautiful im- 
 partiality." 
 
 They were strolling along the bank of the brook, where 
 there was a path, now broad enough for two, now choked 
 up with raspberry brambles. 
 
 " I knew it was there the shoe pinched," he said, with a 
 touch of irritability; "but it seems almost too silly to 
 merit an answer." . 
 
 "Then you mean to deny that you ran after Kate van 
 Schaak early and late." 
 
 "Oh, no ; why should I deny it ? But I supposed you 
 were clever enough to suspect what my motive was." 
 
 " Well, I am not ; unless it was her five millions ! " 
 
 The doctor turned his head with a weary despair, but, 
 instead of answering, fixed his large, dark eyes, full of 
 mute reproach, upon the girl. Then a slight dimness 
 obscured his sight, and he started up the path with long 
 strides, leaving Gertrude behind. She arrested her steps, 
 in a tumult of feeling, irresolute whether she should fol- 
 low him or return to the lake shore. But, seeing the ob- 
 jections to the one course as well as the other, she seated 
 herself upon a large bowlder under a dead tree, whose 
 weather-bleached limbs traced themselves in vivid detail 
 against the sky. She sat there for a good while, deter- 
 mined to be angry, but feeling her wrath insidiously eb- 
 bing away ; a still, small voice rose out of the depth of her 
 heart, defending him against her own accusations. She 
 had treated him shabbily ; there was no denying that. 
 And he looked so miserable when she spoke harshly to him ; 
 and those great sincere eyes of his, they were incapable 
 of hypocrisy. She was so eager to belittle his offence, 
 and to find excuses for it, that the gravamen of her charges 
 finally turned against herself, and the more she reviewed 
 her own conduct, the more heartless and hideous it ap- 
 peared. Where could she find another man so chivalrous, 
 so delicately considerate of her feelings, so capable of deep 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 
 
 devotion and intellectual companionship as the doctor ? 
 If he had really devoted himself to Kate, out of pique- 
 was not that a perfectly natural thing to do, and ought not 
 she, who was the cause of it, to be the last to resent it? 
 
 Gertrude sat for a long while pondering these perplex- 
 ing questions, and was gradually arriving at the conclu- 
 sion that it was she who had sinned against the doctor 
 and not the doctor against her. The brook gurgled its 
 pleasant music in her ears, and the crickets filled the air 
 with a perpetually pulsating chorus of sound. Every mo- 
 ment was charged to overflowing with whirring, gurgling, 
 chirping, warbling voices, inextricably blended together, 
 now faint and tremulous, now throbbing with a sudden ac- 
 cess of strength ; vibrating with a strange intensity through 
 heart and brain, encroaching with a sweet, wild insistence 
 upon her conscious life, and drawing her back into the 
 Nirvana of great universal nature. Emotions, whether 
 joyous or sad, become half impersonal in such moments, 
 and lose their acutest sting. Down in the golden-brown 
 depths of the pool swift shadows darted to and fro, and in 
 the cool shade of the bowlders long-legged water-bugs 
 skipped hither and thither, and a glittering fly came sail- 
 ing down the current and got caught in a ball of foam, 
 whence there was no escape. 
 
 Some may contend that it was heartless in Gertrude to 
 get interested in these insignificant phenomena, when the 
 decision of her own fate was trembling in the balance. 
 But, sensitive as she was to every impression, she conld 
 not ward off this pagan semi-absorption in Nature this 
 irresistible sympathy with the teeming, abundant, myriad- 
 voiced noon-day life of summer the strong, eternally de- 
 stroying, eternally creative heart-beat of mother earth. 
 
 Gertrude was awakened from her reverie by the creak- 
 ing of branches close by, and glancing up saw Hawk 
 stand before her. She had to collect her thoughts forcibly, 
 before the situation became clear to her. A wild look, 
 like that of a startled bird, gleamed in her eyes as they 
 were first fixed upon the doctor. 
 
 " I suppose you didn't expect me back," he said, taking 
 off his straw hat and wiping its inside with his handker- 
 chief. 
 
 " I haven't thought anything about it," Gertrude an- 
 swered. 
 
 She had no intention to be cruel ; nay, had, on the con- 
 trary, resolved to be conciliatory ; but the thoughtless 
 
204 THE MAMMON 
 
 words were out of her mouth before she had time to con- 
 sider them. The doctor began to scratch the ground with 
 his stick, tossed back his picturesque Hamlet-lock, and 
 heaved a deep sigh. 
 
 " Miss Gertie," he said, with a sort of desperate reck- 
 lessness, " I suppose I ought to take that as final and 
 call it quits. I wish to God I could." 
 
 " Why can't you ? " she asked. 
 
 She was unkind now from sheer perversity, and won- 
 dered vaguely at her own pitilessness. She knew, in a 
 kind of impersonal way, that she loved him and would 
 like to encourage him ; only the loving mood had unac- 
 countably departed, and she could not bring it back by a 
 mere effort of will. "And you pretend then that you 
 don't know that I love you," he continued, bitterly ; " that 
 I have loved you from the first moment I saw you ?" 
 
 " How could I tell," she ejaculated, " when you didn't 
 seem to know it yourself ? You have too hospitable a 
 heart, doctor, you love too many." 
 
 She spoke lightly ; but her voice was unsteady, and she 
 felt a dull heartache, which gnawed and burrowed among 
 her vitals. She was disgusted with her flippancy, but 
 scarcely knew how to abandon the tone she had once as- 
 sumed. Then, perhaps, the impulse of vanity more than 
 anything else urged her to persevere, for she wished in a 
 confused way not to be too easily won. The doctor de- 
 served to be punished for the pain he had inflicted upon 
 her ; and there could be no harm in making him suffer a 
 little in return for all he had made her suffer. 
 
 "I suppose then, Miss Gertie, that all is over between 
 you and me," he muttered, sadly ; "we shall have to part 
 and be nothing to each other." 
 
 She was on the point of answering that she was not 
 aware that they had ever been anything to each other ; but 
 instead of that she said, softly : 
 
 " That depends upon you." 
 
 He looked up with glad surprise and drew a step 
 nearer. 
 
 "Then you will listen to me ?" he queried, with wary 
 tenderness. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 The tremulous insecurity of that "yes" emboldened 
 him ; he seated himself at her side on the big stone and 
 seized her hand. His touch imparted a light shock to her 
 and the blood surged into her face. 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 2O$ 
 
 "Gertie," he said, in a low, beseeching murmur, " why 
 should you and I quarrel ? You can't make me believe 
 that you don't care for me. A love so strong as mine for 
 you would melt a heart of stone. 
 
 " I arise from dreams of thee 
 In the first sweet sleep of night, 
 When the winds are breathing low 
 And the stars are shining bright ; 
 I arise from dreams of thee, 
 And a spirit in my feet 
 Has led me who knows how ? 
 To thy chamber window, sweet ! " 
 
 The doctor was a master in declamation ; he breathed 
 forth Shelley's exquisite impassioned lines in swooning 
 sighs, and Gertie had never listened to anything so won- 
 drously rich and alluring. It was like a heavy delicious 
 odor, the inhalation of which caused a sweet oppression. 
 He repeated, after a pause, the second and the third verse 
 with the same insinuating ardor. The landscape seemed 
 to grow dim and more richly green ; a strange magic 
 inundation of light broke across it ; her heart throbbed in 
 slow, full beats which almost shook her frame. She felt 
 his arm about her waist, his kiss upon her lips but she 
 made no resistance. There was a luxury in complete, un- 
 reasoning surrender ; there was a glorious flood-tide of 
 being a deeper breath, a swifter pulse, and dim vistas of 
 unrevealed bliss. After a while, she became conscious 
 that he was talking, though she did not distinctly hear 
 what he said. He was speaking about himself he always 
 spoke so beautifully about himself and he was quoting 
 more poetry ; he always quoted poetry on supreme occa- 
 sions. She saw his deep melancholy eyes light up with an 
 intense animation ; but all of a sudden she became con- 
 scious of a vague alien presence which roused her with a 
 pang, and an uneasy sense of guilt. She looked up and 
 down the ravine, but saw only the waving of the tops of 
 the underbrush far away, and heard gay voices in high 
 keys, and shrill laughter. There was for an instant a 
 curious unreality in the scene, and she half expected to 
 see it dissolve and change like the pageant of a dream. 
 It seemed as if she had seen it all, to the minutest leaf and 
 twig and tinge of light, years ago in some previous exis- 
 tence perhaps but unmistakably without shadow of 
 doubt. There was an anxious suspense of silence in the 
 air ? and through this silence came, like an accusing voice, 
 
206 THE MAMMON 
 
 the thought of that other girl the claimant, the mort- 
 gagee whom she had defrauded. She had, after all, a 
 prior claim ; she had spent her all in educating him ; in 
 helping him to reach the eminence for which he was 
 destined. She shrank from him with outraged modesty, 
 as she imagined how often he must have sat with that 
 other one, encircling her waist, calling her sweet names, 
 protesting his gratitude and affection. For a moment she 
 almost loathed him, and she loathed herself too ; but above 
 | all she loathed that unending tiresome repetition of the 
 / stale incidents of love, birth, death without hope of re- 
 | spite, through all the dizzy eternities. A paltry little 
 j puppet, with eyes and nose and joints, pulled by unseen 
 wires, bowing and kissing and loving and suffering through 
 four or five hackneyed acts to the more than hackneyed 
 1 end that was a woman's lot, and man's, for that matter, 
 was scarcely a whit better. 
 
 I would not assert that the feelings that agitated Ger- 
 trude's soul were as distinctly formulated as they neces- 
 sarily have to be in the present narrative. But they were 
 acutely felt ; and prompted impulsive action. She leaped 
 down from the stone upon which they had been sitting, 
 and stood with flaming cheeks gazing at Hawk, yet scarcely 
 seeing him. 
 
 " But," she cried, with a queer little grating in her voice, 
 " the girl the girl who loved you ? " 
 
 The doctor, truth to tell, had actually forgotten the girl 
 who had loved him. He might, perhaps, be excused for 
 having forgotten what had no existence. He had not de- 
 liberately invented this romance ; but he had allowed it to 
 grow and take shape about him, and he had encouraged it 
 by mysterious hints, and sighs, and guarded admissions. He 
 felt now that it was so much a part of him that he did not 
 dare repudiate it. He had in him a Byronic repugnance 
 for the tame and commonplace lot, and a taste for pictur- 
 esque wickedness. He was not above imitating the crude 
 heroes of Cherbuliez and Wilkie Collins, and though he was 
 too prudent to risk collision with the law, he satisfied his 
 romantic craving by mourning for maidens whom he never 
 lost, and suffering remorse for sins which he never com- 
 mitted. It was, however, a little cruel to have one of 
 these imaginary maidens turn up at the present incon- 
 venient moment. The disagreeable query took the doctor 
 by surprise. He returned Gertrude's gaze with a confu- 
 sion which no dramatic brazenness could conceal. 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 2O/ 
 
 " Why don't you answer me? "she demanded, impetu- 
 ously. 
 
 Hawk in his desperate strait had a sudden inspiration. 
 
 " She is dead," he answered, drawing a deep sigh of re- 
 lief, but looking the picture of gloomy self-accusation. 
 
 " Is she dead ? " Gertrude exclaimed, wondering. " Did 
 she die of grief ?" she added, in a soberer tone. 
 
 " I wish you wouldn't speak to me about it," cried Hawk, 
 tossing his Hamlet lock in impatience. "I should think 
 I had suffered enough already for that youthful folly. I 
 was true to her, I tell you, though I never loved her ; I 
 once thought I loved her, but from the moment I saw you, 
 I knew that I had deceived myself. There was consump- 
 tion in her family, and nothing could have saved her. So 
 you need have no scruple on her account." 
 
 There was something so flattering and pacifying in these 
 assurances that Gertrude began to reproach herself for her 
 doubts. She took the doctor's arm, and for a while they 
 walked in silence along the bank of the brook. There was 
 after all (though she would scarcely have admitted it) 
 something deeply gratifying in having for a lover a man 
 for whom there had been such a spirited scramble, as long 
 as he was yet unfettered. Even the deluded faith, the 
 sickness, and the death of the consumptive claimant had a 
 charming air of romance in it, and removed their relation 
 so high above the mere commonplace loves of common- 
 place people. She began to feel herself drawn toward him 
 again ; and as she looked at his dark, interesting face, the 
 soft black mustache and beard, the red sensuous lips, 
 and the fine straight nose, an overwhelming sense of his 
 worth his rare and radiant preciousness took possession 
 of her. She did not see that he had too high a forehead 
 and too little back head to make a well-balanced, success- 
 ful man ; and she could not see, through the dense silky 
 beard, that he was also rather deficient in chin. A very 
 silly thought, which she hesitated to utter, was worrying 
 her ; but she knew she would have no peace unless her 
 curiosity was satisfied. 
 
 " Was that girl, who loved you, dark or blonde ? " she 
 asked, with bashful haste. 
 
 " Dark," said the doctor, gloomily. 
 
 That was a great relief to know that she was not 
 blonde. 
 
 " And and what was her name ? " 
 
 "Mary." 
 
2O8 THE MAMMON 
 
 That, for some reason, also seemed satisfactory ; though 
 it was hard to imagine why. 
 
 " Tell me," she began after a while, taking advantage 
 of his amiability, "is it true that you had an affair with a 
 high-born lady while you studied in Vienna ? " 
 
 "My dear child," cried Hawk, with a fine assumption of 
 impatience, " how can that possibly interest you ?" 
 
 " Everything about you interests me." 
 
 "That's very nice, I'm sure, but you must excuse me. I'd 
 rather not talk about that." 
 
 " If you only knew how unhappy it would make me 
 that you have secrets which I am not to know " 
 
 " Well, well " (with superb masculine condescension), " if 
 you insist. But I assure you there was nothing so very 
 dangerous about that affair." 
 
 And he related with many piquant details how he had 
 had the misfortune to attract the attention of a high-born 
 Russian lady, the Princess Alexandra Grabowsky, who 
 was as rich and beautiful as she was eccentric. How the 
 Princess's father, who was the Russian ambassador in 
 Vienna, had offered him a large sum of money, if he would 
 return forthwith to America, and promise not to correspond 
 or in anyway communicate with his daughter ; how Hawk 
 had spurned this offer, etc., etc. 
 
 There was a flavor of " Ouida " about this little romance 
 which, however, Gertrude failed to detect. Next to Mrs. 
 Spofford, whose "Amber Gods" the doctor held to be the 
 greatest modern novel, he regarded the much-slandered 
 "Ouida" as the most luminous light of contemporary fic- 
 tion. He detested George Eliot, and had no patience 
 with Thackeray ; and among the poets his favorites were 
 Byron and Swinburne. 
 
 Rarely has a young girl been more impressed with the 
 heroism, the beauty, the transcendent magnificence of her 
 lover, than Gertrude was, after her excursion with Dr. Hawk 
 up to the slate quarry. She forgave him (oh, how readily) 
 all that he had sinned against others, and felt so deliciously 
 confident that, after all his amatory aberrations in the past, 
 he had now found his safe and final anchorage. He and 
 she had been guided by an eternal destiny toward each 
 other ; and it was delightful to trace through a multitude 
 of apparently insignificant incidents this providential 
 intention to bring their groping and yearning hearts to- 
 gether. This discovery, which was proved beyond possi- 
 bility of doubt, filled her with a jubilant security and per 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 2O$ 
 
 haps also a slight sense of superiority to the rest of her 
 sex who had vainly striven to win this rare prize which now 
 was hers. There was passion and there was innocence, 
 there were tenderness and delicacy and a touching simplic- 
 ity in the pure depths of this strong and sweet nature ; 
 and though she was swayed by moods, which often an- 
 tagonized each other, there was a fundamental nobility in 
 her which dignified even her vacillation. Like Desde- 
 inona of old, like Chrimhild and Brunhild, like every 
 sweet and wholesome girl in all times and ages she had 
 sat waiting for her hero ; and believing him to be a hero, 
 she sang her paean to him, and clasped him to her heart, 
 never suspecting what a blackamoor she held in her 
 arms. 
 
 Hawk and Gertrude, on returning to the camp, found, 
 to their surprise, that their absence had not caused any un- 
 easiness ; nor did their return cause any sensation. The 
 youths and maidens, under the lax supervision of a young 
 married lady who feigned the role of a chaperon, had all 
 strolled off in pairs up and down the lake shore after the 
 mock boat-race was at an end, and no one was missed be- 
 cause there was no one to miss him. 
 
 At about seven o'clock in the evening, after a frugal 
 supper, consisting of coffee and hard-boiled eggs, the 
 party broke up and started homeward. The twilight 
 spread over the lake, and the rockets which whizzed up 
 from the boats exploded with a resonant bang under the 
 silent skies, and dropped down their showers of many- 
 colored stars. The moon rose large, red, and sleepy be- 
 hind the eastern hills, and showed the dark and jagged lines 
 of the forest in luminous relief. A stray swarm of mos- 
 quitos danced away over the still water, sang for an in- 
 stant their angry little tune in the ears of the picknickers, 
 and whirled out of sight. There was something touch- 
 ingly primitive in the frankness with which personal pref- 
 erences were shown and recognized, and in the dropping 
 of coquettish airs, as the twilight grew softer and dimmer, 
 in the sweet instinctive response to the great universal law 
 which was from the beginning of the world, which holds 
 creation together in its innermost care. They did noth- 
 ing very indiscreet ; but there were pressures of hands 
 which the twilight shielded ; there were audacious whis- 
 pered compliments, and tender avowals which to-morrow 
 would appear to be forgotten. They meant nothing ex- 
 cept a shy tentative yielding to the dim attraction be- 
 14 
 
210 THE MAMMON 
 
 tween youths and maidens, and they were not taken se- 
 riously. They were mere phenomena of the spring-time 
 of the grand re-awakening of nature. The sun-god, the 
 daring wooer, kisses the slumbering earth, and she 
 awakes, blushes, and returns the kiss. 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 211 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 A NOBLE ROMAN. 
 
 There were various festivities during Commencement 
 week in which neither Hawk nor Gertrude chose to par- 
 ticipate. Mr. Larkin appeared, as usual, being, beside the 
 Governor of the State, the chief dignitary of the occasion. 
 He made his annual speech, which was the same every 
 year, and which never lost its novelty; and its unfailing 
 success convinced Mr. Larkin that it could not be im- 
 proved upon. It was short ; for Mr. Larkin made no pre- 
 tence to being an orator ; and it ran as follows : 
 
 "FELLOW-CITIZENS : Some of us can talk and some of ils 
 can act ; but it ain't often the same man can do both well. 
 Some of you can remember, I reckon, the time when this 
 town had barely 2,000 inhabitants, no gas, bad water, and 
 plenty of ague. The streets was unpaved, and it took 
 a foolhardy man to cross them on foot in bad weather. 
 That was the way it looked here when I first come here. 
 There was two churches one Methodist and one Presby- 
 terian. I won't talk about how it looked on the hill. 
 That was a howling wilderness. Now, fellow-citizens, I 
 don't want to brag, but I ask you to look about you and 
 tell me what you see. The stately spires of seven houses 
 of worship meet your eyes ; shops of every description, 
 abounding with costly wares, line our streets. We have a 
 reservoir which has killed the fever, and we have first- 
 class drainage ; we have gas to illuminate our streets ; and 
 our town had at the last census 11,249 inhabitants. What, 
 now, fellow-citizens, has brought about this great change ? 
 I say the Larkin University. (Thundering applause). 
 
 "The universities in this country until this institution 
 was founded were places for the rich man's son only. I 
 wanted to found a university for the poor man's son. 
 (Applause.) No high living, no frills and flummery, no 
 Oxford gowns no nothing which a poor man couldn't 
 afford to buy. I hope to live long enough to see the day 
 when a thousand young men and women shall be climb- 
 
212 T-HE M AMMO ft 
 
 ing this hill in the noble pursuit of learning. If I don't 
 see it some of you will. I am a plain man, I didn't have 
 much schooling when I was a boy ; but I always felt the 
 want of it. And when God blessed my labor and gave me 
 wealth, my first thought was to give the opportunities of 
 an education to the many thousand boys in the country 
 situated as I was. That's what I have tried to do ; and if 
 God will continue to prosper the work, I reckon, with His 
 help, we may call it a success." 
 
 The members of Mr. Larkin's family had heard this 
 speech so frequently that it had ceased to interest them. 
 Gertrude always listened to it with burning ears, and a 
 sense of discomfort. She felt as if it were herself who 
 was speaking and lapsing into bad grammar. Aleck was 
 ashamed of its rhetorical faults, and the obvious inference 
 people must be drawing from it, that his uncle had founded 
 his university as a real-estate speculation, or to advance 
 the commercial prosperity of the town. But somehow, 
 people were slow to draw such an inference, and at any 
 rate they were not disposed to assume a critical attitude 
 toward the old man. They knew he meant right, what- 
 ever he might say about it. Horace was the only one 
 under Mr. Larkin's roof from whom a criticism on the 
 speech would not have been taken amiss. But Horace, 
 seeing how American it was, and how characteristic of its 
 author, liked it without reserve, and refused to suggest 
 improvements. 
 
 On the evening of Commencement day Mr. Larkin gave 
 a dinner to the governor and the Board of Trustees. Mr. 
 Robbins was there to say grace, which he did with the 
 elaborateness which the occasion required. 
 
 The founder's dinners were, however, puritanically 
 frugal and flavorless. Wine there was none ; and Apolli- 
 naris water seemed too suggestive of medicine and de- 
 rangement of digestion to be acceptable as a substitute. 
 Cigars were likewise tabooed, and the governor himself, 
 who was very dependent upon, his post-prandial smoke, 
 was obliged to go out on the piazza, to enjoy it. For Mr. 
 Larkin understood no hints where his convictions were 
 involved, and lost much of his respect for the governor's 
 character when he saw how he relished the noxious weed. 
 The magistrate, on the other hand, departed with an in- 
 creased admiration for his host, but this was due to an in- 
 cident which occurred before the cigars were in order. 
 
 The assembled dignitaries had just despatched the 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 21$ 
 
 soup and were testing the quality of the lake bass, when 
 the waitress handed Mr. Larkin a telegram. He opened 
 it, read it, and without a change of mien, put it in his 
 pocket. The conversation which turned chiefly on uni- 
 versity matters, continued without a break, and no one 
 had any suspicion that anything extraordinary had hap- 
 pened. When the meal was at an end, however, and the 
 guests had entered the parlor, Mr. Larkin beckoned to 
 Horace and handed him the telegram. It read as follows : 
 
 SAGINAW, MICH. 
 
 All twelve mills and lumber yards burned this after- 
 noon. Cause of fire unknown. Send representative. 
 
 HAWKINS. 
 
 Horace knew that this meant a loss of upward of half a 
 million dollars. For Mr. Larkin never insured. He in- 
 sisted that it did not pay. If there was any profit in it 
 to the insurer, he contended, there could be none to the 
 companies ; and, as the companies usually got rich, he 
 argued that the insurers usually were duped. He pre- 
 ferred to take his own risks and reap his own profits. His 
 saw-mills at Saginaw were, at present, his pet enterprise, 
 and had yielded him a handsome percentage on his in- 
 vestment. 
 
 "You had better take the 10.15 train," was all he said 
 to Horace ; and, " All right," was all that Horace an- 
 swered. 
 
 They were a laconic lot, but they understood each 
 other so perfectly that words between them seemed super- 
 fluous. There was the same lumber in both of them,, and 
 their mental processes worked in conscious sympathy. 
 Horace could not, however, deny himself the pleasure of 
 letting the governor know what a fine old Roman the 
 head of the house of Larkin was. And the governor, who 
 was a democrat, was reminded of Thomas Jefferson, who, 
 walking with a celebrated Frenchman, fell and broke his 
 arm, but continued the walk, talking brilliantly, and mak- 
 ing no reference to the accident. 
 
 In spite of Mr. Larkin's love for his University, there 
 had developed of late years a latent animosity between 
 him and the faculty. The old gentleman, with all his 
 benevolence, was a trifle overbearing ; and could not be 
 made to understand that the professors, who would have 
 been nowhere but for him, were not responsible to him 
 
214 THE MAMMON 
 
 personally, and removable at his pleasure. He was apt to 
 make his influence felt in an emphatic fashion in all the 
 business concerns of the University, and his voice was un- 
 derstood to be decisive in the appointment of every officer, 
 from the president to the janitors and the charwomen who 
 scrubbed the halls. He would have no cavil in such 
 matters, and the trustees and faculty contented themselves 
 in the end with finding excellent reasons for agreeing with 
 him. 
 
 The students, too, gave Mr. Larkin great trouble. He 
 loved them collectively, but he detested them individually. 
 It was not quite untrue, as Professor Dowd (who was the 
 founder's pet aversion) remarked, that Mr. Larkin loved 
 his University but disliked nearly every one connected 
 with it, 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSA^ESS. 21 5 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 / 
 
 AN EXCITING ENGAGEMENT. 
 
 People bore the summer weather in Torryville, as they 
 bore other visitations of Providence, with grumbling sub- 
 mission. They did not run away from it, first, because it 
 was not absolutely unbearable, and, secondly, for lack of 
 funds. The Larkins, who were an exception to this rule, 
 stayed at home from habit, and because they had comforts 
 at home which no money could procure them elsewhere. 
 
 Gertie had made Dr. Hawk promise to keep their 
 engagement secret until she gave him permission to make 
 it known. She had exacted this promise chiefly because 
 it seemed such a delightful thing to have something to 
 conceal, and perhaps also because she disliked to grieve 
 Aleck, who would, undoubtedly, take the thing very much 
 to heart. She had a dim notion that Aleck was fond of 
 her, and she knew, too, that she was very fond of Aleck. 
 But there had always been something between them like 
 an invisible wall, and she began to suspect that this some- 
 thing was Hawk. The thought had flashed through her 
 mind, two or three times, that Aleck's love for her was not 
 of the fraternal kind, but that he was prevented by his 
 semi-fraternal relation to her from revealing the true 
 nature of his affection. She had noticed, particularly, of 
 late, how sad his glance was, when it rested upon her, 
 and how full of mute reproach. She did not doubt that 
 he knew already all that she might have to tell him ; but 
 this, somehow, seemed an additional reason for sparing 
 him the incontrovertible knowledge. Not that she re- 
 gretted her choice, or had the least misgiving as to its wis- 
 dom. But she had a little soft spot in her heart for Aleck 
 which ached whenever she thought of the pain which he 
 must suffer on her account. He was so kind and good and 
 reliable ; almost too good, she feared, for if he had had a 
 dash of wickedness, or at least a mysterious circumstance 
 or other in his antecedents, his handsome appearance and 
 polite manners would have been more appreciated. For 
 
2l6 THE MAMMON 
 
 Gertrude held, with the majority of her sex, that goodness 
 unadulterated was not interesting. 
 
 Her engagement remained quite an exciting affair even 
 after the edge of novelty had worn off. For Hawk was a 
 creature of moods, one day blithe and gay (though there 
 was always a touch of theatricals in his mirth), and the 
 next oppressed with a weight of gloom. He was always 
 wrestling with the problem of existence ; forever (judging 
 by the tensity of his mental attitudes) grabbing the sphinx 
 by the throat, forcing it to give up its cherished riddle. 
 Sometimes he distressed Gertrude by declaring that the 
 quintessence of human wisdom was summarized in the 
 word resignation. That seemed a queer thing for an 
 engaged man to say, surely, and she cudgelled her brain 
 to remember what she had done or said which had dis- 
 pleased him. The story of her mother she had felt in duty 
 bound to tell him ; and it troubled her to think that, per- 
 haps, he repented of his engagement after having dis- 
 covered the complications into which it might lead him. 
 Was she right in surmising that she was less desirable in 
 his sight on account of this unfortunate mother ? He had, 
 indeed, scarcely betrayed any surprise, when she related 
 the circumstances of the meeting in the Drum Head 
 Ravine ; and she could not quite get rid of the suspicion 
 that he knew the whole story before, nay had perhaps 
 overheard the conversation. This was the drop of bitter- 
 ness in her cup of joy. She could not credit the idea 
 nay she would have scorned it if it had been suggested to 
 her that the doctor performed his little private theatri- 
 cals for the pure love of them ; and because he was a 
 dramatic character who could not resign himself to com- 
 monplace behavior. She sought always in her own words 
 and conduct for reasons for his moods, when really they 
 had no reasons at all. Yet he encouraged this sense of ac- 
 countability in her, and reproached her in a tender, emo- 
 tional voice for things which he had never thought of 
 until she herself by her anxious queries suggested them. 
 He was sad and gloomily resigned, on general principles; 
 but was ungenerous enough to accept her imaginary 
 offences as the specific causes of his discontent. And she 
 found no fault with him for exacting of her an impossible 
 standard of conduct. She had a dread, no less anxious 
 than his, of the common humdrum lot ; and the perpetual 
 suspense in which his varying moods kept her gave a 
 certain zest to life and compelled her to keep her own 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 21? 
 
 moods in abeyance. She could not afford to yield to 
 every impulse of weariness and depression, when her 
 whole future happiness was at stake ; and in her eagerness 
 to conciliate him she tried to remodel herself in accordance 
 with what she conceived to be his ideals, renouncing her 
 selfish habits and foregoing every luxury, except that of 
 being pleasing in his sight. She did not possess the 
 knowledge of the world to see and judge him as he was. 
 He seemed to her a hero ; the glory of his speech thrilled 
 and intoxicated her, and his discontent seemed only the 
 expression of his superiority. She felt exalted in humiliat- 
 ing herself before such a man ; she alone had had the eyes 
 to see and appreciate the nobility of this rare spirit ; and 
 a heart lofty enough to beat in unison with his. 
 
 Nothing of any consequence happened in Torryville dur- 
 ing the summer months. Mrs. Larkin had recently with- 
 drawn her sympathies from the Mohammedans, who, she was 
 informed, pretended to be interested in Christianity for 
 the sake of the medical knowledge which they acquired in 
 the Beirut mission, and afterward relapsed into the worship 
 of the Prophet. She had now become convinced that 
 Madagascar offered the most fertile field for missionary 
 effort, and was actually equipping a gentle, blear-eyed 
 young man for an expedition to the Hovas, whose souls 
 were pining for the light. She was growing more peevish 
 and plaintive as she grew older, and was getting harder to 
 associate with. She was quick enough to perceive the doc- 
 tor's attentions to Gertie, and interpreted them as a wilful 
 affront to herself. She suspended all her ailments for two 
 months ; and was half inclined to call in the obnoxious Dr. 
 Sawyer. But this seemed almost too radical a measure. 
 She could not quite give up the expectation of luring 
 Hawk back to his allegiance. His present aberration she 
 could then afford to forgive, considering his youth and his 
 many admirable qualities. That he was engaged to Ger- 
 trude she could not believe ; for that would argue a black- 
 hearted ingratitude with which she could not credit her 
 favorite. 
 
 To enliven the summer dtilness, and give vent to her own 
 overcharged feelings, Mrs. Larkin got up a little breeze in 
 the church, and forced poor Mr. Robbins to take sides 
 with her, although she had a suspicion that his sympathies 
 were on the other side. Mrs. Larkin contended that the 
 spirit of the world, the flesh, and the devil was getting 
 the upper hand in the church ; and she adduced in proof 
 
218 THE MAMMON 
 
 of this, the luxurious toilets in which women (who could 
 really not afford such extravagance), came into the 
 Lord's house, rustling with silks, clinking with jet, flaring 
 with gorgeous ribbons and feathers! There was, indeed, 
 a time when Mrs. Larkin had herself not been without 
 aspirations as regards dress. But somehow she seemed to 
 have been so made that no dress would fit her ; creases 
 would appear in the back and over the shoulders ; and 
 about her ample waist her gowns had a wry and twisted 
 look, which was a source of annoyance to her until she 
 discovered a sanction for it in the Bible. She came to the 
 conclusion that well-fitting dresses were of the devil, and 
 argued loss of grace. She upbraided Mr. Robbins for his 
 laxity, and finally induced him to preach a sermon against 
 vanity of attire, which was regarded by Mrs. Dallas as a 
 personal attack, and prepared the good man no end of 
 difficulties. Mr. Dallas, who was not a man to be trifled 
 with, came forward as the champion of his wife's and daugh- 
 ter's honor, called the parson to account, and, as it was 
 rumored, received from him a private apology. But as 
 Mrs. Larkin refused to credit this, she still plumed herself 
 on having vindicated her authority and made the devil 
 lower his banner. 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 219 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 A SERIOUS CONTRETEMPS. 
 
 The burning of the saw-mills came not inopportunely to 
 Horace, as it compelled him to be much away from home, 
 and enabled him to charge his delinquencies as a lover to 
 the score of business. Mr. Larkin, after having ascer- 
 tained the extent of the damage and approved the plans 
 for rebuilding, left everything in his hands, and chuckled 
 over the shrewdness he displayed in penetrating shams 
 and detecting frauds. He tested every item in the esti- 
 mates that were submitted to him with a practical sense 
 and sagacity which filled his uncle with delight. It was 
 rumored, too, that as the Torryville car-wheel factory had 
 suspended operations for the summer season, Horace se- 
 lected some two hundred or three hundred naturalized 
 citizens of Democratic proclivities among the factory! I 
 hands, and shipped them to Michigan, where he gave / 
 them employment in rebuilding the saw-mills. A man / 
 would have to be blinder than a bat not to see the mean- / 
 ing of that; for those two hundred or three hundred Hi- 1 
 bernians would be back before November, and then they' 
 would pay the price of the bargain by voting for Horace 
 Larkin. 
 
 Rumors of these proceedings did not fail to reach the 
 parsonage and cause Mr. Robbins much annoyance. He 
 regarded such performances as little less than dishonor- 
 able, and could not sufficiently reprobate the furtive ad- 
 miration with which they were viewed by the people in 
 general. Bella repeatedly got herself into difficulties with 
 her lady friends by championing Horace's integrity and 
 giving the lie direct to those who ventured to asperse it ; 
 but felt ill repaid when he laughed at her zeal, and told 
 her jocosely not to burden herself with the responsibility 
 for his misdeeds. She sometimes felt out of patience with 
 his eternal joking, which indicated either lack of confidence 
 or lack of respect ; but she was careful not to let him sus- 
 pect the faintest shade of disapproval. For, of course, she 
 
220 THE MAMMON 
 
 could not force him to confide in her ; she had to take 
 thankfully whatever he offered. And she loved him with 
 an absorbing affection and fervor which (when her im- 
 patience had spent itself) made all that he said seem brill- 
 iant, and all that he did perfect. She persuaded herself 
 then that there was nothing which she desired or could 
 desire that she did not find in him. She surrendered her- 
 self to his cool and rare caresses with an impassioned ten- 
 derness and a luxurious self-extinction which many a time 
 planted a pang in his heart, and made him shrink from the 
 intention which lay, perfectly formulated, in the back- 
 ground of his mind, waiting for its opportunity. He was 
 well aware of the atrocity of this intention ; but palliated 
 it with the reflection that it was for her sake, not for his 
 own, that he let the relation drift on. He had no idea of 
 keeping her as a dernier ressort, in case Kate should reject 
 him ; for, in the first place, he did not in the least doubt 
 his ability to win Kate, and, secondly, he would have re- 
 garded it as ignoble to play under cover and abuse her 
 confidence while yet coveting it. He held it, on the other 
 hand, to be perfectly fair and square to burn his bridges 
 behind him ; to break an engagement which he had entered 
 into with a false or imperfect understanding of the case ; 
 but he was yet unable to steel himself against an occa- 
 sional access of pity or self-contempt. For all that, his 
 resolution remained unaltered ; he would accomplish his 
 purpose with all due kindness and consideration, inflicting 
 as little pain as possible. He was only waiting /or a favor- 
 able moment ; and an excuse or pretext that might afford 
 him, at least, a shadow of justification. 
 
 In the meanwhile the preparations for the fall elections 
 were rapidly being pushed by the political managers ; and 
 the nomination for the Assembly was offered to Horace 
 as he had expected. In fact he had " laid his pipes " as 
 the phrase is, so shrewdly, that there was no escape from 
 nominating him, without courting defeat. Knowing, how- 
 ever, that his resources were ample, the managers de- 
 manded an assessment of three thousand dollars, which 
 after some deliberation he agreed to pay. He knew per- 
 fectly well that they were afraid of him, foreseeing that 
 the day he grasped the helm, their power would be at an 
 end. He had, indeed, an ideal equipment for a political 
 boss, being a keen judge of men, endowed with sagacity, 
 unruffled by temper, unburdened by superfluous scruples. 
 
 Unhappily he had his money so well invested that he 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 221 
 
 preferred to borrow the amount of the assessment rather 
 than sell any of his mortgages or bank stock. It occurred 
 to him, too, that he would be doing Aleck a favor in with- 
 drawing some of the latter's bank deposit from circulation ; 
 for Aleck was conspicuously lacking in the financial sense, 
 and squandered his funds in nothings, in a way that made 
 his brother's heart ache. It was therefore with a half 
 benevolent impulse that he approached him with the 
 proposition for a loan. 
 
 " I have got about $500 in cash," he said ; " and if you 
 can help me out with $2,500, I shall be much obliged." 
 
 Aleck, who was sitting in his shirt sleeves in the office, 
 smoking, and reading a popular magazine, looked up at 
 his brother with his most engaging smile and exclaimed : 
 " Why, certainly; I shall be most happy to let you have 
 all I have got. My bank account has been in an uncom- 
 fortably plethoric condition since I gave that able opinion 
 which was really yours, in the case of McTavish vs. 
 Henley." 
 
 " Perhaps," said Horace, " I ought to tell you what I 
 want it for." 
 
 " Not unless you prefer to." 
 
 "Well, there's no reason why I shouldn't tell you." 
 
 There was possibly a tinge of malice in this candor ; he 
 wanted to make Aleck particeps criminis an accomplice 
 in something of which he disapproved. He imagined that 
 he needed a good many lessons of this sort before he 
 would be equipped for success of a practical kind. His 
 sensitive conscience needed to be battered until it became 
 pachydermatous. 
 
 "You know," Horace continued, "I am going to be 
 nominated for the Assembly at the convention next week. 
 I've got the thing dead sure." 
 
 " No, I didn't know it," said Aleck guilelessly ; " and 
 you are willing to accept the nomination from the Ma- 
 chine ?" 
 
 " If you can tell me of any other organization in this 
 county from which a nomination is worth anything, I will 
 consider it." 
 
 Aleck flung his magazine on the table and smoked for 
 a while in silence. 
 
 " Horace," he ejaculated with ardor, "you know as well 
 as I what a lot of infamous tricksters those men are. I 
 should think you would respect yourself too much to enter 
 into partnership with them." 
 
222 THE MAMMON 
 
 "Well, my dear fellow, you have got to take the world 
 as you find it. I can't undertake to reform it in one short 
 life-time. Anyway I have no taste for martyrdom. I mean 
 to achieve something definite, and in order to do that, I 
 have got to use the tools which I find handy. If I were 
 to construct my own tools, beside destroying the old 
 ones, I should get no further." 
 
 Aleck did not answer at once, but sat again looking 
 thoughtfully out of the window. A blue-bottle fly was 
 bumping boozily against the pane, tumbling down upon 
 the sill, and again flinging itself, with a persistence wor- 
 thy of a better cause, against the invisible but unyielding 
 substance. Aleck, after having watched its desperate 
 and futile struggles, got up, opened the window, and let 
 it out. 
 
 "Why," he asked, impulsively, "do all the world's influ- 
 ences conspire to break down a man's honesty?" 
 
 " Because the average man is not as yet particularly 
 honest," Horace replied, promptly; "he is moderately hon- 
 est when it pays, but no more. The world or society is 
 but the expression of the average man's morality ; and it 
 is what he is." 
 
 " Then it is the duty of those who are in advance of the 
 average morality to raise their banner high, and try to 
 make the rest follow it." 
 
 "Well, I have no objection to anybody's doing that, if 
 his tastes lie in that direction. But he does it at his peril, 
 and ten to one, he forfeits his chances of any but a posthu- 
 mous success. Even Christ, idealist as he was, recognized 
 that fact when he said, ' Make ye, therefore, friends of the 
 mammon of unrighteousness.' " 
 
 " But the beauty, the exaltation, the delight of such a 
 worlt, I should think that was worth more than even what 
 you call success." 
 
 " I may be deficient, but I can't see the beauty of but- 
 ting your head against a stone wall, and that is what it 
 really amounts to." 
 
 " But in the course of time your head, though it be sore, 
 may make an impression upon the wall." 
 
 "Yes, but in the meanwhile, the wall will have made a 
 very much deeper impression upon your head." 
 
 " But suppose the wall hid a grand and beautiful view 
 and debarred mankind from its ennobling enjoyment, 
 would it not be worth a broken head, nay, a thousand bro- 
 ken heads, to have it destroyed ?" 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 22$ 
 
 " It might be worth your head, but it is not worth mine. 
 As long as someone else does the butting, I have no earthly 
 objection. I am even willing to applaud, and privately 
 bandage his head. But in the end it amounts to this : it is 
 folly to attempt the impossible, even if it be ever so sub- 
 lime." 
 
 " He who never attempts the impossible will never 
 achieve the possible," replied Aleck, with superb enthusi- 
 asm. 
 
 Horace, who had been seated in the revolving chair, 
 with his back to his brother, got up, and began to saunter 
 about on the floor. He struck a match, lighted a fresh 
 cigar a black, strong, high-flavored Havana and puffing 
 the fragrant smoke against the ceiling, planted himself in 
 front of Aleck. 
 
 " It is no use talking," he said ; "we shall never agree 
 on that point. You know you are awfully headstrong, and 
 opinionated. But let me have your check for $2,500, and 
 I'll forgive you your heresies." 
 
 Aleck pulled out a drawer, rather hesitatingly, and took 
 out his check-book. 
 
 " Horace," he said, coloring to the edge of his hair, "do 
 you know what this money is to be used for ?" 
 
 "I suppose so." 
 
 " And it isn't a trick you want to play upon me ; as you 
 did a year ago, when you advised me to hire buggies and 
 use the family influence to make votes for Wolf." 
 
 " Stuff ! Don't be a fool. I want the money, and I want 
 it to-day." 
 
 "To pay for your nomination ?" 
 
 "Call it that, if you like." 
 
 "Then I wish you would borrow of somebody else. I 
 don't like to be made a party to such a transaction." 
 
 Horace was not an irascible man ; his wrath kindled slow 
 ly, and it glowed and smouldered long before it blazed forth. 
 
 " Say that again," he demanded calmly, gritting his teeth. 
 
 " I think you heard what I said," his brother replied, 
 struggling to master his excitement ; " I can see no rea- 
 son for repeating it." 
 
 " And you don't want to lend me the money ?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "You think I'm little better than a scoundrel, eh ?" 
 
 " Those were your words, not mine." 
 
 "And you presume to set yourself up as a judge of my 
 actions, eh ?" 
 
224 THE MAMMON 
 
 He spoke yet with outward composure, but his voice 
 shook with suppressed anger ; and his eyes had a pinched 
 and ugly look. 
 
 " I can't help judging," Aleck rejoined ; " it was your- 
 self who challenged my judgment." 
 
 "And are you such a blasted fool as to suppose that it 
 makes the slighest difference to me whether you lend me 
 your paltry pennies or not ?" 
 
 " No ; but I am fool enough to wish to keep my honor 
 unstained. I want to live uprightly not tolerably up- 
 rightly, or moderately uprightly, but absolutely uprightly. 
 If you have supposed that all my professions on this sub- 
 ject are mere phrases, I shall have to disabuse you. If we 
 must part company, as I fear we must, then don't think 
 any harder of me than you have to." 
 
 Horace, pale, sullen, and determined, stood with his 
 chin upon his chest, chewing his cigar and gazing through 
 his pinched eyelids at his brother. His anger, which kept 
 working like a subterranean fire within him, was a clear, 
 flameless glow which sent up no smoke to obscure his 
 judgment. The phrase " If we must part," kept humming 
 in his ears ; it had often occurred to him before that it 
 would be for his advantage to dissolve the partnership 
 with Aleck, but he had never supposed that Aleck would 
 be fool enough to make the suggestion ; nor had he ever 
 expected to make it himself. He loved Aleck as well as 
 he was capable of loving anybody ; and he had always had 
 a sense of fraternal protectorship over him which is apt to 
 foster affection. Moreover, there was a cordial compan- 
 ionship between them which neither the one nor the other 
 had ever established with any other man. They were, in 
 spite of all differences of taste and temperament, congenial. 
 Horace might deplore Aleck's fondness for poetry and 
 fiction, which, he contended, interfered with professional 
 success, but he did not fail, in a dim way, to perceive what 
 a sweet and noble nature revealed itself through these 
 alleged aberrations, and to round out his own culture 
 vicariously through his brother's conversation and read- 
 ing. But all these considerations, if they occurred to 
 him, were overborne by an instinctive greed to take ad- 
 vantage of a moment which might never return. It was 
 anger and outraged dignity which prompted his words, but 
 then there was also a still small voice of calculation as he 
 strode toward the door and looking back over his shoulder 
 cried out: "You fool, you have thrown away your life." 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 22$ 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 A PAINFUL PARTING. 
 
 Aleck, feeling that the breach with his brother was ir- 
 reparable, determined to leave the town. He discussed 
 the matter with his uncle, who was somewhat surprised, but 
 offered no serious objection. Only he insisted that his 
 nephew must put poetry and that sort of stuff out of his 
 head, and start out, as he expressed it, to make an honest 
 living. Journalism was, on the whole, not a bad profes- 
 sion, and if Aleck wished to try his hand at it, Mr. Lar- 
 kin would give him letters to prominent editors in New 
 York, who might give him a chance to distinguish him- 
 self. There was a kind of benevolent indifference in his 
 manner while he spoke, which hurt Aleck and made him 
 want to be gone as soon as possible. He had dreamed 
 for years of tearing himself away from the uncongenial 
 practice of the law, and by some startlingly magnificent 
 novel or poem which some day he meant to write, to 
 make his fame and his living as a man of letters. He 
 therefore accepted his uncle's recommendations, hoping 
 through the portal of journalism to make his entrance 
 into the temple of literature. His ambition was hot 
 within him. The world lay shimmering in the flush of 
 dawn at his feet, and dimly radiant visions beckoned him 
 from afar. 
 
 There was only one thing that pained him. He must 
 take leave of Gertrude. She was the only young woman 
 whom he had known well, and yet he sometimes felt as if 
 he did not know her at all. She appealed to the chival- 
 rous instinct in him, and made him vaguely aglow with 
 tenderness and sweet unrest. He would have liked to 
 play the part of the young Lochinvar to her ; conquer her 
 at first, if need be, rudely, arid then afterward woo and 
 win her by gentle speech, deep devotion, and the grad- 
 ual revelation of all the wealth of affection and intellect 
 which she never suspected. He wished that he were a 
 
226 THE MAMMON 
 
 stranger to her ; so that he might meet her face to face 
 and soul to soul, with no distorting superficial acquaint- 
 ance or relationship. He had gotten into a false attitude 
 toward her, as a sort of jocose and amiable brother, who 
 could be abused and petted ad libitum. Again and again 
 he had made the attempt to get nearer to her ; but always 
 this hateful character, which he did not know how he had 
 acquired, clung to him like a strait-jacket and made him 
 seem unnatural both to himself and her. Then again 
 Hawk, whom Aleck detested and despised, stood between 
 them like a menacing shadow ; and drove them into talk- 
 ing artificial commonplaces in order to avoid talking 
 about him. The opinion which each knew that the other 
 entertained of Hawk was an insurmountable bar to confi- 
 dence. 
 
 For all that, Aleck could not find it in his heart to leave 
 town without making one more effort to remove this bar- 
 rier. This time he meant to speak freely of Hawk, and 
 take the cbnsequences. For he foresaw that, without his 
 warning, their relation would drift, sooner or later, into 
 an engagement. He found Gertie in the garret, which 
 she had covered with rugs and draped with curtains of 
 mummy cloth, until it bore a resemblance to a studio. 
 She pulled a burlap over the figure upon which she was 
 working, as he opened the door ; and was busy for some 
 minutes pinning it to the wet cloth which was wrapped 
 about the clay. Then she rolled up hastily a sheet of 
 tinted paper upon which he detected two or three unmis- 
 takable likenesses of Dr. Hawk. When, at last, she was 
 obliged to face him, her cheeks burned, and she bit her 
 lip as if to conceal a slight confusion. 
 
 " Why, Aleck," she cried, breaking into an embarrassed 
 laugh, "what possesses you to come and see me here ? " 
 
 " I am going away," said Aleck, gravely ; " and I want 
 to say good-by to you." 
 
 " Going away ? Where, if I may ask ? " 
 
 "To New York." 
 
 " How long are you going to be gone ?" 
 
 " I can't tell ; probably forever." 
 
 "What has happened ?" she cried, with vague surprise. 
 " Is is is it the doctor ? " 
 
 The color again flared into her face and she turned 
 away toward the window and began to pull up the shade. 
 It struck him that there was something almost heartless in 
 the way she uttered these words. The note of sympathy 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 
 
 was so glaringly absent that her voice jarred upon his ears 
 like a discord. He noticed, too, as she stood before him, 
 with the great clay-stained apron covering the front of her 
 dress, a certain buoyancy in her bearing, quite different 
 from her usual listlessness. She held her head with em- 
 pressement and in her features there was an animation which 
 made him ill at ease. Was she crowing over his defeat ; 
 trying to assert her superiority, or was she merely relieved 
 at his disappearance from the scene ? She perceived that 
 she had wounded him by her manner, and repeated her 
 question in a more subdued tone. 
 
 "What is the matter, Aleck ?" she asked ; "you look as 
 if you had lost your last friend." 
 
 "Oh, there's nothing the matter," he answered, being 
 forced into insincerity by her indifferent manner. " I have 
 thought of going away for a good while ; and it is just as 
 well that I should go now as at any other time." 
 
 She was not in the least deceived, of course, by such a 
 reply ; but believing that Hawk was at the bottom of the 
 difficulty, was in doubt whether she should invite further 
 confidence. 
 
 "Well, Aleck," she said, taking off her apron and ad- 
 justing the skirt of her dress with a few shakes and pats, 
 " I shouldn't wonder if you are right. There's really no 
 field for a man of your talents here in Torryville. I really 
 wonder how you have been able to stand it so long." 
 
 He made no reply to this, but seated himself upon an 
 inverted dry-goods box which was draped with flowered 
 chintz. She took her seat opposite to him in an ancient 
 arm-chair and began to turn over the leaves in her sketch- 
 book. 
 
 " What was that you were working at as I came in ? " he 
 queried with pretended indifference. 
 
 " Oh, I was just amusing myself,'' she answered, eva- 
 sively. 
 
 " Pull off those rags and let me see it." 
 
 " No, you must excuse me, Aleck, I would rather not," 
 she said, looking up at him with an air of mild defi- 
 ance. 
 
 " Well, you needn't if you don't want to," he responded 
 after a pause, sadly ; " and I suppose it is too late, now, 
 to warn you against the original." 
 
 " The original of what ? " 
 
 "Of your bust," 
 
 "Aleck, I'd like to know what you mean ! " 
 
228 7W.fi: MAMMON 
 
 There was a sudden, impetuous challenge in her voice, 
 which told him the whole story. 
 
 " I mean this," he said in a tone of commiseration, 
 "that sooner or later you'll find out your mistake." 
 
 "Aleck," she cried, threateningly, "I don't allow any- 
 one to speak to me like that." 
 
 She had risen and stood before him, flushed and imperi- 
 ous. 
 
 " You'll have to make an exception in my case," he an- 
 swered in the same gentle voice ; "it may be a long time 
 before I see you again and and I have no wish to give 
 you pain needlessly. It's only this I want to say, that when 
 you find out that my judgment of him is right when he 
 fails you in the moment when you most need him for he's 
 bound to do that then remember that I have loved you, 
 or rather forget it, if you like, but remember that I warned 
 you." 
 
 He rose and held out his hand to her ; but she appeared 
 not to see it. 
 
 "You are very kind, indeed," she said, with chilling hau- 
 teur ; "but I should prefer if you would keep your pre- 
 dictions to yourself. I may as well tell you that I am en- 
 gaged to Dr. Hawk and expect to be married to him soon. 
 I knew, of course, you didn't like him, but I believed you 
 to be too generous to come here and malign him to me." 
 
 "Very well, Gertie, don't let us talk about it any more," 
 he murmured, with mournful resignation ; " I shan't 
 bother you any more, dear. Only permit me to say this : 
 I am very, very sorry." 
 
 " I don't see what pleasure it can give you to be stand- 
 ing here and tormenting me," she cried, with a voice of 
 blended anger and grief; "you know I don't want to be 
 unkind to you, Aleck, but you try me so terribly." 
 
 " Well, I'll try you no more. Good-by ! " 
 
 He reached out his palm once more, and she looked at 
 it, as if in doubt whether she could afford to relent or not. 
 Then with an impulsive movement she put her hands upon 
 his shoulders, looked at him with a tearful brightness in 
 her eyes and said cordially : 
 
 " Aleck, I am so fond of you you have been so good to 
 me that I could cry to think that you could speak that 
 way of the man I love." 
 
 " It cannot be helped, dear," he answered, returning her 
 gaze with a dismal smile. It came over him with a chilly 
 sense of desolation that this girl, who was so dear to him, 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 229 
 
 who had been so large a part of his life and thought, must 
 henceforth belong to another, and be as nothing to him 
 and he nothing to her. And never had she appeared so 
 lovable, so supremely desirable in his eyes as in this mo- 
 ment. She was so tall and fair and innocent, so nobly 
 virginal, so full of fresh, pure, unwasted sentiment. And 
 to think that this rich and sweet affection was to be lav- 
 ished upon a cool, calculating knave, who had not a spark 
 of true and wholesome feeling in him, who had deluded 
 her inexperienced heart by an impressive bit of acting that 
 was the acme of bitterness. It seemed heartrending that 
 such a wrong, so fruitful in misery, though foreseen, could 
 not be prevented. And yet how touching was this reso- 
 lute blindness of hers, this invincible loyalty to one who 
 was so unworthy of her ; who, if it were for his advantage, 
 would throw her off like a worn-out garment. Aleck, as 
 these thoughts flitted through his mind, prayed that such 
 a situation might be brought about soon, before the irrev- 
 ocable step had been taken. If he were not going away, 
 and above all, if he were not a rival, whose motives were 
 scarcely disinterested, he would bend all his energies to 
 unmasking the doctor, or rather contrive a situation in 
 which the" doctor would inevitably unmask himself. But 
 these were both disheartening "ifs." As they seemed 
 more insurmountable to Aleck the more he thought of 
 them, he packed his trunk with a heavy heart, and de- 
 parted on the evening train for New York. 
 
23O THE MAMMON' 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 A DEMORALIZING RUBBER SHOE. 
 
 The first result of Aleck's departure was the removal of 
 the sign-board over the office-door, bearing the inscription 
 in big gilt letters : 
 
 LARKIN BROTHERS, 
 ATTORNEYS AND COUNSELORS AT LAW, 
 
 and the appearance of a new and smaller one, in which 
 the firm was reduced to : 
 
 HORACE LARKIN, 
 ATTORNEY AND COUNSELOR AT LAW. 
 
 About the beginning of October the Republican Con- 
 vention met, and the gentleman thus designated was, in ac- 
 cordance with his expectation, nominated for the Assembly. 
 He had no idea of making an active canvass, as there were 
 no great issues at stake, and he felt tolerably confident of 
 his election. Nevertheless, a ratification meeting was 
 called at Tappan's Opera House, toward the middle of the 
 month, and Horace was put down for a speech. It was a 
 great and enthusiastic gathering, which would have car- 
 ried consternation into the ranks of the Democracy, if an 
 incident had not occurred which was much magnified by 
 the opposition paper and furnished material for no end of 
 squibs. Horace was pretty well launched in his eloquence, 
 and was giving a moving picture of the lamentable condi- 
 tion of the poor Southern negro, who was not allowed to 
 vote, and whose life was altogether too sad to be contem- 
 plated without tears, when suddenly a rubber shoe, flying 
 through the air in the direction of the speaker, struck the 
 gas fixture and brought two glass globes down upon the 
 heads of two venerable bald-headed citizens. One of 
 these, being an irascible man, seized the missile, hurled it 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 
 
 at random in the direction whence it came, and hit Pro- 
 fessor Dovvd in the nose with such force that he upset his 
 chair and fell backward into the lap of an old farmer. 
 Some students, who were probably responsible for the first 
 flight of the rubber shoe, took care to keep it in motion, 
 and while the speaker, who affected to ignore the disturb- 
 ance, was in the midst of a tremendous tirade against the 
 rebel brigadiers, the damp flabby thing, in its unforeseen 
 gyration, hit him in the mouth, and nearly knocked him 
 off the platform. 
 
 It was the first time in his life that Horace lost control 
 of his temper. " The darned fool, who threw that rubber," 
 he cried, with a face white with wrath, "is is " but 
 then he suddenly remembered that he was addressing the 
 electors, who had the power to make or mar him, and with 
 an abrupt moderation of tone he finished : " is not a gen- 
 tleman." 
 
 The unintentional humor of that exclamation struck the 
 audience with irresistible force. A loud guffaw in shrill 
 youthful trebles and old husky basses, drowned the orator's 
 voice, as he attempted to continue ; and every time he 
 opened his mouth a fresh wave of laughter would break 
 forth and sweep over the crowd, until the windows shook 
 and the gas globes trembled. Horace, knowing that it is 
 impossible to argue against laughter, rapidly retired from 
 the platform, and was followed by Mr. Dallas, who gave 
 him rather a cooler endorsement than he had expected to 
 do, because he saw in this rubber incident and the subse- 
 quent laugh an indication that possibly he had over-esti- 
 mated his popularity. Horace was not slow to perceive 
 this note in the manager's remarks ; and he saw, too, a 
 possibility that he might be knocked out of the race by 
 this same unlucky rubber. He had to retrieve himself; 
 that was obvious, or his prestige would suffer. Accord- 
 ingly, when Mr. Dallas had finished his remarks about the 
 Republican " Pairty " and worked himself up into a tre- 
 mendous state of excitement, Horace stepped smilingly 
 forward and begged leave to tell a story. The chairman 
 had a good mind to deny him the privilege, but, on second 
 thought, gave a reluctant consent. 
 
 " I am reminded by this rubber, which closed my mouth 
 for one instant," he began, in an easy conversational tone, 
 "of an incident which occurred during the late War of the 
 Rebellion. A gaunt, rheumatic Yankee, well up in the 
 forties, had enlisted in the first flush of his enthusiasm for 
 
232 THE MAMMON 
 
 the Union cause. He took part in the first fight at Bull 
 Run, and during the forced marches in the terrible July 
 heat became utterly exhausted. To make matters worse, 
 his boots, which were a bad fit, had gnawed a big piece off 
 his heel, and he would not have been able to keep up with 
 his company, if a charitable soul had not presented him 
 with an old rubber. So he limped along for a while the 
 best he could ; but after a while fell again behind. 
 
 " 'Hurry up now, old man/ cried the sergeant to him ; 
 'no time now to stop for refreshments.' 
 
 " The old man, with a supreme effort, hobbled on ; but 
 fell again behind. 
 
 "'Look here, old chap/ shouted the sergeant, punching 
 him in the back, 'if you don't stir your stumps, you'll be 
 taken prisoner.' 
 
 "The poor fellow turned a sallow face, full of patient 
 suffering, toward his captain (from whom I have the 
 story), and said : l Cap'n, I'll be d d if I ever love an- 
 other country.' 
 
 " Now, fellow citizens, that's exactly my case. That man 
 spoke out of my heart and out of every loyal man's heart. 
 Though never put to so severe a test as he, I yet exclaim 
 with him, Til be d d if I ever love another country.'" 
 
 The transition from this to a stirring patriotic harangue 
 and a scathing indictment of the Democrats, who, the 
 speaker contended, did not love a united but a disunited 
 country, was quite easy. Horace was himself aware that 
 he was perverting the meaning and point of his anecdote ; 
 for the old soldier of whom he had spoken had evidently 
 intended to imply that his love of country had gotten him 
 into a bad box ; but there was no one present who was 
 subtle enough to make such a discrimination. And, more- 
 over, Horace gave them no time to be critical ; feeling 
 that his career was at stake, he fairly surpassed himself in 
 stirring and impassioned rhetoric. He lifted the people 
 off their feet, and made them wild with bellicose enthusi- 
 asm. When, at the end of half an hour, he sat down, smil- 
 ing and perspiring, the managers thronged about him and 
 obsequiously pressed his hands, the crowd cheered him, 
 stamped with their feet, and pounded the floor with canes 
 and umbrellas. It was a triumph indeed, in spite of the 
 demoralizing rubber. 
 
 The second result of Aleck's departure was scarcely less 
 important than the first. Gertrude, having already inflicted 
 upon him the pain which she had wished to spare him, saw 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 
 
 no further reason for keeping her engagement secret. 
 She accordingly released the doctor from his promise, 
 and advised him to seek an official interview with her 
 father. The doctor professed great satisfaction at this ar- 
 rangement ; but was, nevertheless, not quite so delighted 
 as he wished to appear. The fact was, he had no stomach for 
 an interview with the old man. He knew that the Honora- 
 ble Obed was a stranger to polite circumlocutions. He was 
 not apt to lose his temper, but he had a way of hitting 
 hard, without being in the least agitated. Hawk shrank 
 from an encounter with his brutal sincerity ; and deter- 
 mined, by way of testing his disposition toward him, first 
 to divulge his secret tentatively to Horace. The incident 
 with the will made him feel sheepish and awkward ; for, 
 of course, he knew that Mr. Larkin would attribute un- 
 worthy motives to his wooing, and tell him squarely to his 
 face that he was a speculating fortune-hunter, if not some- 
 thing worse. 
 
 It was the day after the ratification meeting that he 
 dropped into the office on Main Street, where he found 
 Horace, sitting in his shirt sleeves, dictating letters to his 
 clerk. He looked up interrogatively as the doctor entered, 
 and responded to his greeting with a careless nod. 
 
 "Is there anything I can do for you, doctor?" he in- 
 quired, coolly. 
 
 "Well, no, I don't know that there is," Hawk replied, in 
 a tone of good comradeship, "but I tell you what, old 
 fellow, that was a magnificent speech you made last night. 
 You struck just the right note. I was completely carried 
 away with it. I just thought I'd drop in and congratulate 
 you on your triumph." 
 
 He was quite effusive, and in spite of the lawyer's un- 
 responsiveness, insisted upon grabbing his hand. As soon 
 as he hag! released this member, Horace, with an exagger- 
 ated effort, put it in his pocket and hauled out his pocket- 
 book. 
 
 "Well," he said, gravely, "let us have it. What is it 
 you want? Do you want to borrow money?" 
 
 Hawk, though his impulse was to take offence, smiled 
 faintly at this grim joke, and exclaimed with forced hi- 
 larity : 
 
 "You are an incorrigible wag ; but really, this time, I 
 want to see you about something, though it isn't money." 
 
 He always felt at a disadvantage in the presence of this 
 man, whose cool insolence irritated and outraged him. 
 
234 THE MAMMON' 
 
 Whatever he said appeared silly to him, the moment he 
 had uttered it ; and in order to correct it, he was apt to 
 say something still sillier. He was like an actor who can 
 only play well to a sympathetic audience. But he could 
 not aftord to show his pique, when so much was at stake, 
 and therefore concealed his ill-temper under a cloak of 
 ostentatious good fellowship. 
 
 " You may go to your lunch, Lawson," said Horace to 
 his clerk ; "I shall want you back in an hour." 
 
 The clerk rolled up his papers, and took his leave. 
 
 " Well, doctor," the lawyer remarked, seating himself 
 at his desk, and rummaging among his letters, " is it a 
 divorce you want, or is it only a breach of promise suit ?" 
 
 " It is neither," Hawk replied with an uncomfortable 
 laugh, " it is, in fact, exactly the opposite." 
 
 "Then you had better go to the parson, I am a justice 
 of the peace, to be sure, but I have never yet tied the 
 nuptial knot." 
 
 "Now, don't make it so deucedly hard for a fellow. 
 You may have noticed, perhaps or perhaps you have not 
 that I have been very much devoted to your cousin, 
 Miss Gertrude." 
 
 "Oh, yes, I have noticed that you have had something 
 going on in that line, since you witnessed my uncle's 
 will." 
 
 " Now that's rather more than I can stand, Mr. Larkin. 
 I assure you, I have loved her for years " 
 
 " Yes, but you only found it out after you got that 
 squint at the will. However, I don't blame you. A 
 couple of hundred thousand is apt to make a girl par- 
 ticularly lovable." 
 
 The doctor bit his lip, and turned red with anger. 
 Horace sat imperturbably, with his back to him, still rum- 
 maging among his papers. After a while, he struck a 
 match on the sole of his boot and lighted one of his strong 
 black weeds. 
 
 "You don't seem anxious to congratulate me," Hawk 
 resumed, after a pause ; " I should think you might be a 
 little pleasanter, considering that we are to be relatives." 
 
 Horace smoked for some minutes in silence. Then he 
 wheeled round in his chair and said, with harsh emphasis : 
 "You ought to congratulate yourself that I don't kick 
 you." 
 
 There was nothing to be said after that ; and the dis- 
 comfited doctor, with a sickly smile, which was meant to 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 
 
 express pitying superiority, moved slowly toward the 
 door, stumbled over a cuspidore, and betook himself 
 away. 
 
 "Well, for cool impudence," Horace growled to him- 
 self, "he beats the Dutch." Hawk's conduct seemed so 
 odious to him, that he could hardly keep from swearing 
 whenever his thoughts recurred to it. But indeed we are 
 fearfully and wonderfully made ; it did not once occur to 
 him that he was himself engaged in a very similar enter- 
 prise. 
 
236 THE MAMMON 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 "A BEAST OF PREY." 
 
 The interview with the old man, the anticipation of which 
 had caused the doctor such distress, passed off rather more 
 easily than he had expected. The Honorable Obed treated 
 the matter as if it did not greatly concern him. He lis- 
 tened to all the doctor had to say with a non-committal 
 expression, as if it were a business proposition the profits 
 of which he regarded as, on the whole, problematic. That 
 the engagement was not pleasing to him was obvious 
 enough ; but it was difficult to determine just how much 
 it displeased him. He recognized his daughter's free 
 agency in an affair of this sort with a liberality which in 
 a man of his self-willed temper was quite surprising. 
 If it had been a tutor in the university who had proposed 
 to marry on an insufficient income, Mr. Larkin would have 
 imparted his advice with much more freedom and author- 
 ity. His daughter was such an enigmatical creature, 
 and so far beyond his control, that he saw no way of 
 opposing her with success, if she had really set her heart 
 on marrying this man. He was accustomed to seeing girls 
 have their own way in the selection of husbands, and it 
 did not seem to him such a heinous offence, on Gertrude's 
 part, that she wished to suit herself rather than him. It 
 was not until he had discussed the engagement with his 
 wife that he began to suspect that he had, perhaps, been 
 too easygoing ; but as he had then already given a quali- 
 fied consent, he could not with honor withdraw it. Mrs. 
 Larkin, of course, was of a different opinion. Her hus- 
 band's apathy and the doctor's foul desertion affected her 
 so seriously that she had to go to bed and make the house 
 redolent with strong medicines. As she lay in her bed 
 with her large plump hands on her breast, and groaned 
 and sighed whenever anyone came within earshot, she 
 looked" the saintliest and most abused creature in the 
 world. 
 
 Mr. Larkin had during the first years of his marriage 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 2$? 
 
 been greatly alarmed by these sudden and unaccountable 
 attacks. But experience had made him callous. He now 
 took them very coolly, humored his wife's whim so far as 
 to inquire two or three times as to her condition, but 
 chuckled at her " capers," as something darkly and in- 
 scrutably feminine, which men have got to put up with, 
 even though they did not profess to understand it. He 
 was inclined to regard every woman as a bundle of such 
 intricate and mysterious peculiarities, and therefore not to 
 be taken seriously, but humorously petted and tolerated. 
 
 The November elections resulted, as had been expected, 
 in a Republican victory ; but what provoked more com- 
 ment than the party triumph was the fact that Horace 
 Larkin ran five hundred and forty-eight votes ahead of 
 the ticket. Such a majority in a closely contested As- 
 sembly district was quite phenomenal, and was not to be 
 legitimately accounted for. Some of the two hundred 
 and thirty Irishmen who had happily finished their 
 labors in Saginaw just in time to come home and vote, 
 were said to have been very flush during the week preced- 
 ing election ; and a number of others who had not been 
 at Saginaw had been seen calling at the office in Main 
 Street, where they had declared that they were undecided 
 as to whom they would support for the Assembly, and had 
 a score of friends who were equally undecided. But 
 their indecision had in a mysterious manner changed to 
 enthusiasm, and the Democratic candidate, who had walked 
 in the procession wearing a green suit on St. Patrick's 
 day, found all his blandishments futile, and declared dis- 
 consolately that " the jig was up." When this same gentle- 
 man took a leading Hibernian to task for his treachery, 
 the latter indiscreetly remarked : " Yer kin ketch more 
 floies wid molasses than yer kin wid vinegar." . 
 
 This being duly commented upon, was interpreted to 
 mean that Horace Larkin had bribed the patriots from 
 the Emerald Isle. But no admission to this effect could 
 be extracted from any of them. 
 
 "Yer couldn't draw a dollar from him with a derrick," 
 one of the visitors at the office asseverated. 
 
 "Mebbe yer could with a corruk-screw," observed 
 another. 
 
 " No, be jabers. He's the stiddiest man on his fate and 
 wid his toongue whin he's dhroonk as I iver seed." 
 
 " Ah, ye shoot yer jaw ! He ain't never dhroonk at all, 
 at all, He only lets on out of perliteness to yer, when ye 
 
238 THE MAMMON 
 
 be boozy. He's as cool in his hed, all the whoile, as a 
 fresh cowcumber." 
 
 It will be seen from these remarks that Horace had ac- 
 complished the difficult task of gaining the confidence of 
 " the laboring man." He had, like other candidates for 
 office, visited saloons, treated the crowd, thrown five- 
 dollar bills on the counter, and refused to take change 
 (for such practices were regarded as quite proper in a 
 politician), but nothing more serious was proved against 
 him. This, however, did not account for his exceptional 
 majority or the great preponderance which he instantly 
 gained in political counsels. He was henceforth a power 
 which had to be reckoned with. 
 
 It was the evening of the day after the election, while 
 all these rumors were buzzing about his ears, that Horace 
 betook himself to the parsonage to receive the congratula- 
 tions of his fiancee. He had necessarily neglected her 
 somewhat during the labors and the excitement of the 
 campaign, and he thought that this circumstance accounted 
 for the constrained air with which she greeted him. Her 
 father, who was also in the room, received him with rather 
 superfluous formality, and Horace was not slow to per- 
 ceive that there was something unusual in the wind. He 
 was too secure in his self-esteem to be disquieted by any 
 one's disapprobation, and he seated himself in his usual 
 lounging attitude and smiled his slow, superior smile, 
 while waiting for the parson to take him to task for his 
 misdemeanors. There was a shaded duplex lamp upon 
 the table and a soft suffusion of yellow light throughout 
 the room. Round about the walls were low book-cases, 
 with strips of maroon leather along the shelves containing 
 theological books in plain black cloth, and the poets and 
 novelists in tree-calf and morocco. There was an air of 
 luxurious comfort and refinement about the appointments 
 of the room which never failed to impress Horace when- 
 ever he entered it. 
 
 Mr. Robbins, who on such occasions usually betook 
 himself away after a few amiable remarks about the 
 weather, showed to-day no inclination to comply with 
 this considerate custom. He put his book on the table, 
 face downward, cleared his throat two or three times and 
 seemed extremely uncomfortable. How could he a good- 
 natured elderly gentleman summon courage to rebuke 
 this formidable young man, with his massive self-confidence 
 and his pachydermatous conscience. If he were only a 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 239 
 
 priest of God, having authority, he sighed, as so often be- 
 fore, how he then would speak, and how vanishing would 
 be the obstacles which now towered in his path ! Yet his 
 sense of duty would not permit him to remain silent where 
 his child's happiness was at stake. She had begged him 
 so piteously to let the thing pass without notice ; she 
 had wept and coaxed and caressed him ; but the more he 
 thought of the matter, the worse it looked, and the more 
 imperative seemed his duty to speak. 
 
 " I understand you have been elected, Mr. Larkin," he 
 began with some difficulty. 
 
 44 Yes," said Horace, blandly ; " I am quite content." 
 
 ''And are you sure you are quite satisfied with your- 
 self, when you what shall I say when you review your 
 course of action in the light of God's word and your own 
 conscience ?" 
 
 Bella, with irrepressible nervousness, rose from her 
 father's side, where she had been sitting, and dropped 
 upon a foot-stool close to the chair which Horace was 
 occupying. It was as if she wished to throw in her lot 
 with him signify her allegiance and mitigate the effect 
 of her father's words. 
 
 "Running five hundred and forty-eight votes ahead of 
 your ticket reconciles one to a good many things," said 
 Horace, quietly. 
 
 This answer for some reason irritated Mr. Robbins. 
 
 " Does it also reconcile you to eternal damnation ? " he 
 cried, with flashing eyes. 
 
 " Why, papa, what are you saying ? " exclaimed Bella, 
 frightened, and drew still closer up to Horace, leaning on 
 the arm of his chair, and fondling his hand. 
 
 " Hold on, parson," the latter ejaculated, laughing. 
 " Eternal damnation ! Isn't that rather rushing it ? " 
 
 "You know well enough what I mean," Mr. Robbins 
 replied, in a calmer tone ; "you have done things in this 
 campaign which no man can do without imperilling his 
 soul's salvation." 
 
 " Well, I'll take the risk, "said Horace, with an emphasis, 
 as if he meant that to be final, and wished the discussion 
 closed. 
 
 " Great God, man, if you knew how blasphemously you 
 speak, " cried the parson with sudden vehemence. 
 
 The young man squared himself in his chair, leaned 
 forward and glanced up at the clergyman with a combat- 
 ive light in his gray eyes. 
 
240 THE MAMMON 
 
 "Couldn't I demolish you couldn't I grind you to dust, 
 if I thought it worth while ! " that glance seemed to say. 
 But there was no trace of excitement in his manner as he 
 asked : 
 
 " Parson, have you read the parable of the unjust stew- 
 ard?" 
 
 The query came so unexpected that Mr. Robbins scarce- 
 ly knew what to answer. 
 
 "I presume you have," Horace continued; " and you 
 remember how the Lord commended him for cheating his 
 master and giving a ruinous discount to his debtors." 
 
 " That does not mean that he approved of him," Mr. 
 Robbins protested. 
 
 " What does it mean, then ? " 
 
 "It means that the Lord wished to impress upon the 
 children of light the necessity of employing as much energy 
 and ingenuity in well-doing as the children of darkness 
 employ in ill-doing." 
 
 " That is, in my opinion, rather a far-fetched interpre- 
 tation. The whole gist of the parable is contained in 
 these words : 'Make ye therefore friends of the mammon 
 of unrighteousness.' " 
 
 " And so you mean to say that you have scriptural war- 
 rant for going into low saloons, drinking with all sorts of 
 rowdies, flinging ten-dollar bills on the counter and de- 
 clining to take change?" 
 
 " Now, papa, how can you speak that way to Horace ?" 
 Bella broke in impetuously. " I am sure he never did 
 any of those things." 
 
 Horace shot her a sidelong glance in which there was 
 a gleam of compassion. 
 
 " Don't be too sure," he said. 
 
 " There ! Do you hear that ? " cried Mr. Robbins, 
 eagerly ; " he is not ashamed of what he has done. He's 
 proud of it." 
 
 "Oh, yes," drawled the delinquent, "he's not a bit re- 
 pentant." 
 
 "And you think it is honorable for a man of your 
 standing to indulge in such practices? Have you con- 
 sidered that the name you bear is before long to be my 
 daughter's name, and that it is a matter of some impor- 
 tance both to me and to her if you choose to put a stain 
 upon it." 
 
 There was an anxious stillness in the room, broken only 
 by the low humming of the lamp and Bella's staccato 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 241 
 
 breathing. Horace's face grew hard, and his eyes had a 
 cold, pinched look. 
 
 " Mr. Robbins," he said, in a harsh, incisive voice, "you 
 have assumed more authority over me than I can possibly 
 accord to you. If my actions throw discredit upon your- 
 self or your daughter, it is only fair that I should release 
 you both from your obligation to me. Good-evening." 
 
 He had risen, with lips tightly shut, and stood buttoning 
 his coat with an air of defiant resolution. There came a 
 low wail, followed by convulsive weeping, from the carpet 
 upon which Bella was seated. 
 
 " Oh, Horace, do not leave me, do not go away ! " she 
 sobbed, flinging her arms about his feet and clinging to 
 them. 
 
 " My dear," he said, stooping and releasing himself from 
 her passionate embrace ; " I am sorry to hurt you, but we 
 must part. There is no help for it." 
 
 He passed out through the door, but heard, with an ir- 
 repressible heartache, how she called his name with a 
 touching irrational persistence ; how she wept with a sore, 
 heart-broken grief, and how her father's voice was trying 
 to soothe her. He remained for a while standing on the 
 sidewalk, listening ; and every time he heard his name called 
 in that shrilly jarring, piteous note (as of a voice that had 
 tired itself out crying) his resolution received a shock, and 
 he could scarcely keep from going back and doing pen- 
 ance. The friendly yellow light streamed out through the 
 chinks in the shutters, and seemed to beckon him back. 
 He had done this ; he had inflicted this cruel pain ; and 
 in spite of the opportune excuse, there was no use deny- 
 ing that he had done it deliberately. He was not proud 
 of himself now, but there was a sub-consciousness in the 
 midst of his self-reproach that the end was worth the sac- 
 rifice. He was a beast of prey, asserting his right of sur- 
 vival ; nothing more. If he succumbed to sentiment (and 
 it is far easier to succumb to it than to resist it) he would 
 merely be eliminating himself from the battle of existence 
 as a potent and considerable force, and consigning himself 
 to the rear ranks. And he felt in every fibre of his being 
 that he was born for leadership. 
 
 He sauntered slowly through the damp and cloudy 
 November night, pondering the deep problem of exist- 
 ence. 
 
 16 
 
242 THE MAMMON 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 A DISMANTLED IDEAL. 
 
 The departure of Horace for Albany at the opening of 
 the new year was a great relief to Gertrude and Hawk. 
 The latter, who had found in the presence of an enemy an 
 excuse for the most eccentric behavior, would have tired 
 the affections of any woman less heroically devoted than 
 Gertrude. In return, to be sure, she had tired him by 
 making him sit for a bust which she never could finish to 
 her satisfaction. Now it was the nose that was wrong. 
 Now it was the mouth, or the ears, which always had a 
 look as if they did not belong to the head, but had been 
 stuck on as an afterthought ; but the chief difficulty was 
 with the eyes, which refused to look straight, and moreover 
 were surrounded by unaccountable swellings, suggesting 
 sties and bumps. If the original had been making a night 
 of it and had come home in a demoralized condition, he 
 might have looked somewhat as the unskilful hands of 
 hisfiancJe had represented him. 
 
 It was a great humiliation to Gertrude when she had to 
 abandon this cherished work, which she had begun with 
 so much enthusiasm. She could not bear to destroy it by 
 a well-aimed stab or blow ; for it had enough likeness to 
 the doctor to make her shrink from doing it an injury. 
 But she put it away in a closet where it gradually cracked 
 and fell to pieces. 
 
 This calamity had scarcely released its hold on Ger- 
 trude's mind when an incident occurred which gave her 
 much more serious cause for disquietude. She received a 
 long letter from her mother, without date, but post-marked 
 New York. It was a most distressing letter, filled with 
 complaints and accusations against Mr. Larkin, and adju- 
 rations to Gertrude to come to her at once, as she wished 
 to see her only child before she died. She gave a pitiful 
 description of her condition, cold and starving in a filthy 
 tenement-house, where the snow blew in through the bro- 
 ken window-panes, and rats infested the rooms and even 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 243 
 
 the beds, and made it dangerous to go to sleep. She be- 
 sought and entreated Gertrude not to delay her coming, 
 as she had an important secret to confide to her which she 
 could not possibly impart to any one else. There were 
 tear-stains on the soiled paper, and the handwriting, which 
 was large and scrawling, reeled along the sloping lines 
 with a drunken unsteadiness. The style, too, was ramb- 
 ling and incoherent; but here and there were phrases 
 which had a singular pathos in them, and seemed to voice 
 a genuine distress. 
 
 Gertrude was wrought up, by the reading of this letter, 
 into a state of great agitation. The fact that it was her 
 mother who appealed to her thus invested every word 
 with a strange urgency and moving power. She could 
 not reason coolly that this mother was the slave of a de- 
 basing habit, and utterly unworthy of confidence. The 
 opium habit was to her merely a \vord with a dimly omi- 
 nous significance ; but she knew nothing of its ruinous effect 
 upon body and mind. It was her mother who was calling 
 upon her in her need, destitute and dying how could she, 
 then, decline to listen ? Her conscience pricked her, too, 
 when she thought of the coolness of her demeanor, how 
 incredulous she had been, and ill at ease during their first 
 meeting. She had fully made up her mind as to her course 
 of action when she went to her father and begged leave to 
 read the letter to him. He was sitting at his desk in the 
 library, looking over some accounts which Horace had 
 submitted for his inspection. 
 
 "Who did you say your letter was from?" he asked, 
 looking at her over his spectacles with a preoccupied air. 
 
 11 From my mother," she answered with tremulous insist- 
 ence ; " from rny mother in New York." 
 
 He leaned back in his chair, pushed his spectacles up on 
 his forehead, and stared at her with vaguely troubled eyes. 
 
 " I thought you promised me, darter, not to have any- 
 thing to do with that woman," he said, with quiet remon- 
 strance. 
 
 " So I did, father. But you surely wouldn't want me to 
 desert her now, when she is in want and dying." 
 
 "You mean lying," he suggested, gravely. 
 
 " How can you be so unjust, father ? If you would only 
 read her letter you would soon be convinced that it is 
 true, every word of it." 
 
 " No, I won't. I wouldn't touch it with a ten-foot 
 pole." 
 
244 THE MAMMON 
 
 " I had no idea you could be so prejudiced.'* 
 
 He slid the spectacles down on his nose again (they were 
 of the solid, old-fashioned, silver-bowed kind) and began 
 to turn over his papers with an absent-minded air. She 
 received suddenly the impression, which she had had once 
 before, that there was something lonely and pathetic about 
 him, in spite of his wealth, his self-sufficiency, and his 
 commanding position. For all that, she could not help re- 
 senting his air of dismissal, as he resumed his occupation, 
 appearing to ignore her presence. 
 
 " Won't you listen to me, father ? " she asked, helplessly. 
 
 He looked up again, laid away his pen carefully, and 
 tilted back his chair. 
 
 " I want you to throw that letter into the fire," he said, 
 "and keep your promises better hereafter." 
 
 " I think you are very cruel not to be willing to listen." 
 
 "That's neither here nor there. You just do as I tell 
 you." 
 
 " But, father, won't you please give me money to go to 
 New York and see her?" cried Gertrude, with tearful en- 
 treaty. "I shall be back again soon, and 'nobody need 
 know it." 
 
 " If you go," he said huskily, but cleared his throat to 
 recover his voice " if you go, you won't come back at 
 all." 
 
 " Oh, yes, I will," she ejaculated, reassuringly ; " I should 
 only be gone for a few days." 
 
 " No, you won't," he retorted with surly decision ; " if 
 you go to see that woman, I don't want to see your face 
 again." 
 
 It dawned upon her now that he meant to throw her 
 off to forbid her return. " But she is dying, father," 
 she repeated, pleadingly. 
 
 " Well, it is the most useful thing she could do," he re- 
 plied, " it ain't the first time she has done it." 
 
 " Not the first time she has died ?" 
 
 " No, it's an old trick of hers." 
 
 " But there are rats in her room, father." 
 
 " It don't surprise me. But that'll do now, darter, I 
 won't hear any more talk of that sort. And I thought 
 better of you than to break your word." 
 
 " Then you won't let me go ? " 
 
 Mr. Larkin rose with cumbrous deliberation and 
 walked across the floor to where his daughter was sitting. 
 She remembered, for many years after, the look of pain 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 24$ 
 
 about his firm mouth, as he came toward her, and also the 
 loud creaking of his boots. 
 
 "Throw that letter into the fire," he commanded, 
 harshly. 
 
 But his own spirit flared up within her in response to 
 his voice, and she answered : 
 
 " I won't." 
 
 " Will you, or will you not throw that letter into the 
 fire ?" he repeated, with a sudden ominous gentleness. 
 
 " I will not." 
 
 They stood face to face, she with large excited eyes, 
 quivering lips, and distended nostrils, the picture of gen- 
 erous youthful indignation ; he calm and resolute, with 
 the hard lines about his mouth somewhat strained, and 
 his lips tightly shut. 
 
 " Do you know, darter, that you are cutting yourself 
 off from house and home ? " he asked, with grave delibera- 
 tion. 
 
 "Yes, I do ; but I wouldn't do a mean and cowardly act 
 for anybody." 
 
 There were tears in her voice, and her eyes were slowly 
 overflowing. 
 
 " I don't want to take you at your word, I want you to 
 go and think of it. But don't you forget this ; if you break 
 your promise to me if you choose her rather than me 
 you can't come back again and say you made a mistake. 
 You've got to stand by your choice and take the conse- 
 quences." 
 
 He spoke harshly, and without apparent emotion ; 
 neither his voice nor his language ever rose above the 
 plainest prose ; but the effort with which he thrust forth 
 his words showed how difficult he found them to utter. 
 He did not wait to watch the effect of his warning, but 
 turned his back upon Gertrude and walked out of the 
 room. He knew how easily girls lost their self-control 
 when contradicted ; and he hoped that his daughter's 
 sound sense would assert itself when her reason was 
 left to speak, uninfluenced by her pugnacity. But un- 
 happily there was one element in Gertrude's character 
 which he did not take into consideration, viz., her con- 
 tempt for sordid prudence and a romantic yearning to raise 
 | herself above the humdrum reality by some great act of 
 devotion and self-sacrifice. There was a youthful sympa- 
 thy with rebellion in her heart, and quite apart from per- 
 sonal considerations it seemed to her a fine thing to defy 
 
246 THE MAMMON 
 
 paternal authority in the interest of a wronged and down- 
 trodden creature, who, moreover, was bound to her by the 
 most sacred ties of blood. The innumerable novels she 
 had read were unanimous on this point, that the great 
 herd of humanity (and fathers in particular) were in- 
 fluenced by the meanest motives, and that it was only a 
 few heroic souls who possessed the strength and exalta- 
 tion of character to emancipate themselves from this gal- 
 ling yoke of Mammon. She meant to prove herself to 
 be one of these rare, heroic beings ; and here was her 
 grand opportunity, which, if she let it pass, might never 
 more return. 
 
 It was a glorious thing now that she knew a kindred 
 spirit who would value and understand her reasonings, 
 and support her in her lofty resolution. She could not 
 wait for the evening, when Hawk was in the habit of call- 
 ing, but rushed out of the room, put on her hat and jacket, 
 and walked rapidly up the street toward his office. There 
 were invisible wings on her feet ; she was borne along by 
 some strong impelling force, independent of her own voli- 
 tion. She paused for breath at the gate which led to the 
 white-painted frame house where the doctor had his domi- 
 cile. It was in a quiet side-street, and had a small garden 
 in front fringed with blackened stalks of hollyhocks and 
 sun-flowers. On the door there was a well- polished brass 
 plate exhibiting the inscription: Archibald Hawk, M.D. 
 There was an air of stillness and seclusion about the place, 
 and it was intensified by green paper shades which covered 
 windows and sidelights, imparting to them a peculiarly 
 solemn and unresponsive stare. Gertrude pulled the little 
 glass bell-handle and heard a shrill jingle within. A pretty 
 maid with rosy cheeks opened the door, and asked her to 
 be seated in the waiting-room. At the end of ten minutes, 
 which seemed to Gertrude a small eternity, the doctor 
 made his appearance, and with a sad and somewhat 
 strained smile of welcome conducted her into his private 
 library. The first sight which met her here was a skeleton, 
 whose fleshless skull was adorned with a tall silk hat, and 
 with a half-smoked cigar stuck between its teeth. The floor 
 was of hard wood, and covered with rich Oriental rugs. 
 On the walls were etchings and engravings, all good, some 
 striking, and arranged helter-skelter, but with excellent 
 artistic effect. A voluptuous Oriental fancy was traceable 
 through all of them. There were beautiful women emerg- 
 ing from the bath, or shivering on the edge of marble 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 247 
 
 basins, before taking the plunge. There were allegorical 
 ladies with splendid busts and shoulders, whom the pain- 
 ters, as an excuse for their nudity, had dubbed " Truth," 
 " Innocence," " Charity," etc. But these were only for 
 the delectation of their owner and that of cherished friends 
 who could be trusted not to take offence. As such were 
 few and far between in Torryville, the busts were usually 
 hidden by a tawny silk curtain, which could be made to fall 
 apart, as if by magic, by pulling a cord. 
 
 "Well, dolcinella" the doctor exclaimed, with forced 
 gayety, tossing his Hamlet lock back from his forehead, 
 "to what happy circumstance do I owe the honor of your 
 visit?" 
 
 " It is not a happy, but an unhappy circumstance," 
 Gertrude replied. " I want you to advise me, and I have 
 no one to go to but you." 
 
 " Poverina ! They have been bad to you at home ; have 
 they?" 
 
 " No ; it is something much more serious. It is some- 
 thing which which may change my life entirely." 
 
 " Poveretta ! " sighed the doctor. 
 
 He had been reading, by way of exercise, Manzoni's " I 
 Promessi Sposi " during the morning, and had been struck 
 with the beauty and richness of the endearing terms in the 
 Italian language. But to Gertrude, who was inwardly 
 quivering with agitation, this experimental application of 
 a foreign tongue was distasteful. It seemed to her that 
 he was trifling with her. He was so preoccupied with him- 
 self and the effect he was producing, that he failed to de- 
 tect the note of distress in her voice. She felt rebuffed, 
 and with the impulsiveness of a high-strung nature, rose 
 and moved toward the door. Perceiving that he had 
 offended her, he stepped forward, put his back against 
 the door and said : 
 
 " Not yet, dearest. Tell me what is the matter. What- 
 ever I can do for you, I'll do with all my heart." 
 
 There was yet a lack of sincerity in his voice ; but she 
 forced herself to believe that she was perhaps too exacting. 
 
 " I have received a letter from my mother," she said 
 hurriedly, in order to keep from breaking down ; " she 
 wants me to come to her." 
 
 Hawk stroked his silky beard and looked with a pensive 
 frown toward the ceiling. 
 
 " What does your father say about it ? " he asked guard- 
 edly. 
 
248 THE MA MM OX 
 
 "He says that, if I go, I shall never come back." 
 
 " Hem ! That looks bad. What do you propose to do ? " 
 
 " That's what I came to ask you about. You know, my 
 mother is ill and dying. She has no money ; and she has 
 to live in a wretched tenement-house where there are rats 
 and no end of dreadful things." 
 
 The wholly unmoved air with which he listened to this 
 passionate recital, filled her with dismay. She could not 
 persuade herself that she was fully awake ; there was some 
 horrible mistake somewhere. It could not be possible 
 that he denied her his sympathy. Aleck's words : " He 
 will fail you when you need him most," recurred to her ; 
 and the more she strove to rid herself of them, the more 
 persistently they rang in her ears. She followed him witli 
 her eyes, while he sauntered across the floor, stopped to 
 arrange a bit of drapery, or to straighten a picture which 
 hung crooked. She noted how handsome he looked with 
 his dark hair and beard, his fine nose and his rich olive 
 complexion ; but she noted, too, a certain constraint in his 
 movements, and a painful indecision in his face. He was 
 carrying on a mental debate, and was unwilling to commit 
 himself before he had reached a conclusion. She more 
 than suspected, in this moment, that he was influenced 
 only by considerations of prudence ; but she could not 
 afford to have her beautiful faith in him destroyed ; she 
 wished to be convinced against her own judgment that he 
 was what she had believed him to be. She yearned, she 
 panted though with a dismal sinking of heart to have 
 him prove himself noble, courageous, and true. 
 
 " Archie," she began, with breathless anxiety, " I know 
 it must be difficult for you to put yourself in my position. 
 I don't want you to advise me, if it is disagreeable to you. 
 I have already made up my mind what to do. But I have 
 hardly any money ; and I want you to lend me fifty dollars 
 to relieve my mother's distress. I am going to start for 
 New York to-night, and if if I don't come back again 
 I'll write to you, and let you know where you can find 
 me." 
 
 He had stood face to face with the skeleton while she 
 spoke, staring into the empty sockets which had once con- 
 tained its eyes ; but he now turned abruptly about, and 
 paused in front of her. 
 
 " Gertie," he said ; " may I ask if you have taken leave 
 of your senses?" 
 
 " Why," she cried, " what do you mean ? " 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 249 
 
 " I mean just what I say," he answered, fiercely ; " have 
 you gone crazy ? " 
 
 She looked up into his face in speechless dismay ; it was 
 as if he had removed a mask, and suddenly showed him- 
 self as he was. There was something almost brutal in his 
 fixed stare and in the pitiless rigidity of his mouth. 
 
 " Do you think I am crazy, because I want to help my 
 mother?" she managed to stammer. 
 
 " But you told me yourself that she is an opium-eater." 
 
 " But she is my mother." 
 
 " But your father how about him ? " 
 
 " He does not need me. He's not in distress." 
 
 " But ought you not to have some regard for yourself ? 
 What's to become of you, if he throws you off?" 
 
 "I supposed, in either case, I was to be your wife." 
 
 This was apparently an unexpected reply to the doctor, 
 for he was visibly taken aback. He thrust his hands into 
 his pockets, walked across the floor and became absorbed 
 in the contemplation of " La Verite," the one of his god- 
 desses to whose worship he was least addicted. 
 
 " If you are to be my wife," he said, turning half about, 
 " I shall have to insist upon obedience to my wishes." 
 
 " Indeed. And in the present case, may I ask what 
 is your wish ? " 
 
 A note of sarcasm stole into her voice and a sudden 
 chill into her manner. For the word obedience is to the 
 American girl what the red rag is to the bull, and roused 
 all her latent ire. 
 
 " I wish you to go home and do as your father tells 
 .you," he said, angrily. 
 
 " And if I don't do it, what then ? " 
 
 He did not venture to say : " Then all is over between 
 us," for he saw in an instant what consequences that 
 would involve. He was by nature given to shuffling, and 
 could never arrive at a resolution, except after infinite 
 deliberation. 
 
 " I should deeply deplore your waywardness," he an- 
 swered, recovering his sonorous rhetorical note. 
 
 "And you will not lend me the money ?" 
 
 " I should offend your father, don't you see ? And 
 since you have taken it into your head to offend him, it's 
 much better that I should keep on the right side of him. 
 Then there's, at all events, a chance of things coming out 
 right." 
 
 There flashed forth a glimpse of a paltry, calculating 
 
2 SO THE MAMMON 
 
 soul in this speech, and it filled Gertrude with loathing. 
 Was it possible that this was the man she had worshipped, 
 idealized, adored ? Was it conceivable that this man 
 whom, in her blindness, she had apotheosized as an in- 
 carnation of all perfections could be possessed of a spirit 
 so mean, so pitifully unheroic ? She could not at once 
 accept such a conclusion. She must subject him to the 
 test once more, before abandoning her faith in him for- 
 ever. 
 
 " Please tell me," she asked in a low and gentle voice ; 
 " will you or will you not lend me the money ?" 
 
 " I will, if you will give me your sacred word of honor 
 that you'll never tell your father about it." 
 
 She rose with a smile of unutterable contempt, and 
 moved toward the door. She had no idea why she smiled, 
 it was, probably, as the alternative to weeping. 
 
 "You might answer at least," he muttered, sulkily. 
 "Will you promise?" 
 
 "No, Dr. Hawk, I will give you no fresh promise. I 
 want you to release me from one which I have given you." 
 
 "Now, Gertie, I wish you would be rational." 
 
 " I am very rational now," she said in a strange, sad, 
 far-away voice. " I wish you would not speak to me. 
 Good-by." 
 
 He was enough of a connoisseur of women to know the 
 futility of argument. That sudden fainting of the voice 
 which had the effect of sorrowful tenderness, was rather 
 the expression of an internal tremulousness which with 
 the least indulgence would have sought vent in tears. 
 She was in haste to be gone because she felt that she could 
 not keep herself in check much longer. Oddly enough, 
 her present regret was not for him, that he had proved 
 himself unworthy, but for all the beautiful sentiment she 
 had wasted upon him. Her pride suffered more than her 
 love. She felt humiliated debased. 
 
 Now that this gorgeous cloud-vision had faded into 
 clammy vapor, all things seemed nauseous, unstable. It 
 was like the morning after the feast, when the rosy dawn 
 sends its first rays into the deserted banqueting hall. The 
 half-burned candles how forlorn they look ! The crum- 
 pled napkins, the half-dismantled table, the empty bottles, 
 the corks strewn about the floor, the smell of stale cigar- 
 smoke ! All that was beautiful the night before is to-day 
 doubly distressing because of its lost beauty. 
 
 Without appearing to notice the hand which the doctor 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 251 
 
 held out to her, Gertrude opened the door and found her 
 way into the street. She was conscious of a strange 
 numbness in her knees, and the flag-stones billowed and 
 gave way under her feet. This, then, was the end of her 
 dream. She had lavished her heart's best affection upon 
 a masquerading mountebank. She had invested a pictur- 
 esque lay figure with all the paraphernalia of heroism 
 which had been supplied by her own youthful disordered 
 imagination. 
 
 She hurried down the sidewalk, scarcely knowing where 
 her feet were carrying her. The familiar street, flanked 
 with white and slate-colored frame houses, surrounded 
 by garden-patches, assumed a strangely unfamiliar look. 
 The sunlight smote upon her eyes with a pitiless, glaring 
 insistance. The blood surged vaguely in her ears and 
 throbbed in her temples. The dead leaves rattled about 
 her skirts, and she dragged a dry twig along without 
 observing it. A bird darted with an uneven staccato 
 motion across the street ; and her capricious fancy 
 attached itself to it, following it on and on into the 
 terrible blue infinity. It became a plague and a night- 
 mare, this bobbing bird flashing through sunshine and 
 shadow, untiring, unresting, like an insane, sleepless 
 thought, that detaches itself from the brain, and flies 
 beyond its control. 
 
 As soon as she arrived home, Gertrude began to pack 
 her trunk, in a dumfounded, mechanical way. f It took 
 her a couple of hours to get her dresses and other neces- 
 saries of life properly disposed within the circumscribed 
 space ; and as she had no experience to guide her, she had 
 repeatedly to undo her work, after trying impracticable 
 experiments. It was a relief, however, to be compelled to 
 think of something definite and tangible, to move hands 
 and limbs, and knock against difficulties which challenged 
 exertion. She emptied her pocket-book on the table, 
 and found that she had about $19. This would more 
 than suffice to buy her ticket ; but it would leave her little 
 with which to relieve her mother's want. But there was 
 Aleck ! He was in New York and she knew his address. 
 She would go to him at once and ask his aid. He would 
 not fail her ; of that she felt confident. His blond, gentle 
 face with the trusty, dark-blue eyes, full of loyalty and 
 devotion, rose up before her fancy, and it calmed and 
 comforted her to think of it. She would see Aleck ; she 
 would talk with him, and tell him of her position, He 
 
252 THE MAMMON 
 
 would not stop to consider the risks he ran, as a presump- 
 tive heir to her father's money, before extending to her his 
 helping hand. The more she dwelt upon this thought the 
 more eager she became for the meeting with Aleck. He 
 assumed, by contrast, all the virtues which she had failed 
 to find in Hawk. He had warned her against Hawk ; his 
 own true, brave, and loyal heart had felt an instinctive aver- 
 sion for Hawk's selfishness and cowardly calculation. 
 How deluded she had been! How wofully, how cruelly 
 deluded ! She began now to doubt whether she had ever 
 loved Hawk. She had, indeed, loved a grand and heroic 
 soul, disguised, as she thought, in his features ; but having 
 found that the heroic soul was not there her devotion had 
 changed to indignation ; and her trust to revulsion and 
 outraged dignity. Ardent, youthful, and innocent, as she 
 was, she could not conceive of a love that was not based 
 upon worship. Having discovered that Hawk was not 
 worthy of her worship, she concluded, too, that he was not 
 worthy of her love. Like most young persons she was 
 wholesomely self-centred ; she felt sore, outraged, humili- 
 ated ; but it was for herself she was sorry, not for him. 
 
 Having -finished her packing she sat down and wrote a 
 long letter to her father and a brief curt one to Hawk. 
 In the former she begged forgiveness for disregarding his 
 desire, in the latter she broke off her engagement. At 
 eleven o'clock, when the family were long since asleep, 
 she procured a cab and started for the depot. The even- 
 ing was chilly and the mists were creeping up from the 
 lake, wrapping the hills in fleecy winding-sheets. She 
 stopped at the telegraph office and sent a dispatch to Aleck, 
 announcing the time of her arrival. The cabman checked 
 her trunk for her, as soon as she had bought her ticket, 
 and helped her aboard the car. In another moment the 
 shrill whistle pierced the night, and with rumbling and 
 clanking of metal and the hissing of escaping steam, the 
 train glided out into the white sea of mist. 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 2$3 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 A MOMENTOUS DISCOVERY. 
 
 The train arrived in Jersey City at an inconveniently early 
 hour and the occupants of the sleeping-cars were in no 
 hurry to plunge out into the chilly morning. They made 
 their toilets at their leisure, submitted to unnecessary 
 brushings from the colored porter, and departed one by 
 one as the impulse prompted them. Gertrude, who had 
 retired with the expectation of spending a wakeful night, 
 was half ashamed of the soundness of her sleep. She had 
 not yet arrived at the age when grief, like the carpenter 
 in Heine's poem, works away at your coffin through the 
 long nocturnal vigils. She had the consoling conscious- 
 ness that she was doing a fine thing in burning her bridges 
 behind her and starting out, at the call of conscience, to 
 rescue an unfortunate woman from misery. This dim 
 sense of heroism buoyed her up and made her sorrows in- 
 teresting and therefore easier to bear. She was standing 
 before the mirror in the end of the car which was tempo- 
 rarily reserved for the ladies, when she heard some one 
 speaking her name. She recognized instantly Aleck's 
 voice, and her heart gave a leap. With her hair yet a 
 trifle dishevelled she rushed into a narrow passage-way 
 which connected the ladies' toilet compartment with the 
 body of the car, ran against Aleck, and before she was 
 aware of it, she had kissed him, shed a few tears, laughed 
 in an absurdly confused fashion, and blushed to the tips 
 of her ears. Aleck, too, was blushing, and laughing and 
 talking joyous confused nonsense. There was no one near, 
 so she could safely hug him once more, and cry a little, and 
 tell him how delighted she was to see his dear, good, honest 
 face. He had raised a prententious yellow mustache 
 since she saw him last, and she pronounced it extremely 
 becoming. He laughed rather sheepishly at this and 
 twirled the article in question in mock acknowledgment 
 of the compliment. She had never in her life been so 
 happy to see anybody ; and she had never known anyone 
 
254 THE MAMMON 
 
 to look so lovely as Aleck looked to her in this moment. 
 She was not alone in the world after all ; there was one 
 whom she could lean upon ; who was ready to bear part of 
 her burden. 
 
 He seated himself on one of the sofas and waited while 
 she finished her toilet. In a few moments she returned, 
 wearing a handsome Gainsborough hat with large black 
 feathers and a tight-fitting fawn-colored jacket, which was 
 simply ravishing. Her fresh girlish face, with its innocent 
 seriousness like that of a child, its frank, wide open inex- 
 perienced eyes, and its expression of vague expectancy 
 seemed to Aleck the climax of all that was fair and sweet 
 and lovable. Her absolute trust in him touched him as 
 much as her beauty thrilled and intoxicated him. Had 
 lie not loved tier patiently and hopelessly as far back as 
 he could remember? And here she stood before him, like 
 a young goddess sprung from the wave to rescue him from 
 despair and supply a new incentive to his paralyzed ambi- 
 tion. He knew nothing, as yet, of- the rupture of her re- 
 lations with the doctor ; but he had a joyous conviction 
 that his prophecy had come true ; that she had found out 
 her mistake ; that Hawk had unmasked himself and been 
 consigned to perdition. 
 
 The first opportunity for explanation came when she 
 handed him the check for her trunk, and asked him to at- 
 tend to it. 
 
 "Where do you wish it sent ?" he asked. 
 
 She paused a moment before answering. 
 
 " To my mother," she said, gravely. 
 
 "Your mother?" inquired Aleck, wonderingly ; "I 
 thought your mother was dead." 
 No ; she is alive." 
 
 ' And do you know her ? Have you seen her ? " 
 Yes." 
 
 1 And you never told me about it." 
 ; No ; father told me not to." 
 
 " I think you had better go and see your mother first, 
 before sending her your trunk. I'll keep the check, and 
 do with it whatever you may wish." 
 
 They walked out of the shabby, barn-like depot and 
 boarded the ferryboat. Aleck was too astonished to be 
 communicative. It was as if Gertrude had suddenly 
 slipped away from him again, just as he had her so de- 
 liciously near. This mysterious kinship, of which he had 
 never heard the remotest hint, affected him unpleasantly. 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 255 
 
 He could not quite bring himself to believe in it ; nor could 
 he entirely disbelieve in it. But he was conscious of a 
 dim animosity to Gertrude's mother, whoever and what- 
 ever she might prove to be. Gertie was so credulous and 
 romantic. Was it not possible that some scheming advent- 
 uress had imposed upon her for the purpose of extorting 
 money from Mr. Larkin ? Aleck determined to constitute 
 himself her protector, even at the risk of displeasing her. 
 
 They sat for some moments in silence, gazing out upon 
 the gray pageantry of the river, until the seats, which in- 
 sidiously concealed the steam-heating apparatus, grew so 
 uncomfortable as to compel them to rise. They made 
 their way out of the saloon, and came near losing their 
 balance, as the ferryboat bumped against the tarred board- 
 fence of the slip, before reaching its moorings. 
 
 " Where does your mother live ?" asked Aleck, quite 
 en passant^ as they passed through the gate of the ferry 
 house into the street. 
 
 Gertrude pulled the letter from her pocket and showed 
 him the address. 
 
 'Do you want to go there now ?" 
 Yes." 
 
 1 But it is only eight o'clock." 
 It makes no difference." 
 
 < I hope you do not object to my going with you." 
 No-o. Oh, no ! Only it is a poor place, Aleck, a 
 wretched tenement-house, with rats in it, that crawl all 
 over you. And you mustn't be astonished at anything 
 you see." 
 
 " No, I won't." 
 
 She felt, now that she had gotten hold of him, she could 
 not bear to let him go again. She did not contemplate the 
 meeting with her mother with pleasurable anticipations ; 
 nay, all sorts of vague apprehensions lingered in the back- 
 ground of her mind, and made her ill at ease. 
 
 u Hadn't you better come and take breakfast with me, 
 before you go visiting ? " Aleck inquired, after a while, 
 cautiously. 
 
 " But would that be proper ? " 
 
 " I can see no impropriety in it. Emotional scenes on 
 an empty stomach are doubly trying. Let us breakfast 
 together at the Brunswick ; then you'll be fortified against 
 all contingencies." 
 
 " But, Aleck, my mother is starving." 
 
 She uttered this rather impassivelv, as if it were a prop- 
 
256 THE MAMMON 
 
 osition in geometry, or a moral maxim, which made no 
 appeal to the emotions. 
 
 " That's no reason why you should starve," said Aleck, 
 with the same colorless manner ; " when I expect to have 
 my heart wrung, I always lay in a solid breakfast." 
 
 She was glad to have her scruples overridden, and with- 
 out further objection mounted the platform of the eleva- 
 ted railroad and boarded the cars. They took a cab at 
 Twenty-third Street and Sixth Avenue, and were driven to 
 the fashionable restaurant with the frescoed frieze of me- 
 diaeval merrymakers, dancing through the golden space. 
 There was a sense of adventure about the whole thing to 
 Gertrude which filled her, in spite of her apprehensions, 
 with a subdued joy. She had still momentary doubts as 
 to whether she was entirely awake. To sit here tete-a-t^tc 
 with Aleck, whose blue eyes beamed upon her with tender 
 devotion ; to feel the delicious strangeness of everything 
 that met her eye the gorgeous walls and ceiling, the 
 dainty dishes, the exquisite porcelain, the obsequious 
 French waiters, and the rumbling turmoil of the avenue 
 without it was like an excursion into a fairy-tale, too 
 charming to be wholly true. She ate, with a kind of shame- 
 faced appetite, a goodly selection of what was on the bill 
 of fare ; the French names tempted her to try things which 
 she really did not want ; but the ride across the river and 
 the walk from the ferry had created a ravenous void within 
 her which took no account of sentimental troubles. 
 
 " Do get up, Aleck," she said, with a lugubrious laugh, 
 "and send that dreadfully suggestive waiter away, or I 
 shall eat you into bankruptcy." 
 
 Aleck obeyed without coaxing, though not from sordid 
 consideration ; paid his bill in a radiant humor, and started 
 with his fair cousin in the direction of West Sixty-fourth 
 Street. After having walked a couple of blocks, carry- 
 ing her hand-satchel, he again hailed a cab and they soon 
 found themselves in the neighborhood indicated in Ger- 
 tie's letter. It was now a little after ten o'clock, and the 
 weather had cleared. A light wintry mist still hung over 
 the park ; but the sun was well up over the house-tops on 
 the east side, and illuminated the smoke from a hundred 
 chimneys which rose straight up into the still air. 
 
 Aleck and Gertie were both surprised at the appearance 
 of the house before which the cabman stopped. It was a 
 large and neat-looking apartment house, in a very respect- 
 able neighborhood, and could not by any license of speech 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 
 
 be described as a tenement, far less as a wretched hovel. 
 Gertrude pulled out her letter once more and made sure 
 that the numbers corresponded. Unless her mother had 
 given a wrong address, there could be no room for doubt. 
 She entered the vestibule with Aleck, and scrutinized the 
 dozen or more cards over the bell-handles, giving the 
 names of the tenants. Over the bell handle belonging to 
 the third floor, left, was a coarsely printed card, with a crest, 
 bearing- the name Count Kharlovitz. After consultation 
 with Aleck, she rang the bell ; for there was a possibility 
 that Mrs. Larkin had moved, or that she was living with 
 some other family. The front door was opened by an in- 
 visible agency, and again closed behind them. Gertrude 
 was so startled by this automatic action, that she seized 
 hold of the knob and again tore the door open. She was 
 flushed and excited ; but seeing Aleck's wonder, began to 
 laugh ruefully at her own absurdity. They mounted 
 two flights of carpeted stairs and rang the bell on the 
 left, where the card with the coronet was again exhib- 
 ited. 
 
 A youngish-looking man in his shirt sleeves, with a big 
 black mustache, opened the door, put out his head, and 
 inquired what they wanted. He was smoking a cigar of 
 a very fine flavor. 
 
 " We wish to see Mrs. Larkin," said Aleck. 
 
 The man withdrew his head abruptly and slammed the 
 door. A discussion was heard inside, at first subdued, but 
 growing louder. A querulous female treble, which Ger- 
 trude thought she recognized, was pleading for something 
 to which a rasping bass obviously objected. Presently 
 there was a bang as of something thrown or upset, then 
 more tearful pleading, and at last silence. Gertrude stood 
 listening with a sinking heart. The vision of the rats 
 creeping all over her, which had haunted her on the way, 
 was far less terrible than the conviction which now stole 
 upon her, that that door hid some disgraceful secret. That 
 she had been imposed upon she could not doubt ; only she 
 was at a loss to comprehend the motive. Her mother had 
 perhaps not expected, judging by her daughter's previous 
 behavior, that she would obey her summons ; but had 
 hoped by the description of her misery to extort further 
 contributions of money. 
 
 "Well," said Aleck, after five minutes' patient waiting, 
 "what do you say? Shall we spend the morning here ?" 
 
 "You must stay with me, Aleck," she replied, tremu- 
 17 
 
258 'THE MAMMON 
 
 lously ; " I am determined to get at the bottom of this. 
 Ring the bell once more." 
 
 Aleck rang, and the response was something that 
 sounded like the clatter of dishes and jingling of glasses. 
 Somebody was bestirring himself apparently to put the 
 rooms in order ; and in a few minutes more the man with 
 the mustache, enveloped in the flavor of his fine cigar, 
 opened the door quite smilingly and apologized for having 
 kept them waiting. He was now no longer in his shirt 
 sleeves, but wore a threadbare velvet jacket. He had a 
 coarse face, large teeth, high cheek-bones, and a receding 
 chin and forehead. His cheeks glistened from having been 
 freshly shaved, and his thick black hair was pushed back 
 without a parting. His gray eyes were a trifle blood-shot 
 | qfnd had an indescribably dissipated look. It was difficult 
 ro conceive of a more perfect combination of brutality and 
 I/weakness than his features exhibited. There was some- 
 thing in his manner a certain flashiness and florid civil- 
 ity which made Aleck conclude that he was an ex-barber 
 or perhaps an ex-waiter in a fashionable restaurant. " Je 
 vous demande mille pardons, monsieur, et madame" he began, 
 bowing with the abruptness of a jumping jack, "ah, you 
 spik not French ? My vife ; she know not vhich you vas. 
 You come in ? It is veil. You know ze Comtesse Khar- 
 lovitz, yes ? It maque me much plaisir to see you here." 
 Talking and bowing incessantly, he led the way into a 
 rather cheaply furnished parlor, the air of which was close 
 and pervaded with a strong smell of opium. On a small 
 marble-topped table stood a dainty coffee-pot, a pint bottle 
 of Haute Sauterne, and other remnants of a light French 
 breakfast. The carpet, which was a rich Axminster, was 
 dusty and covered with spots. Here and there on the 
 floor lay champagne corks, and under a chair a crumpled 
 and stained napkin was visible. There had apparently 
 been a carousal of some sort in the room, the night be- 
 fore, and there had been no time to remove its last traces. 
 "You is Miss Larkins, yes ? " said the polite host, point- 
 ing with a large flourish to a chair, upon which Gertrude 
 sank down, because her knees seemed too weak to support 
 her. "I am Count Kharlovitz, you hear of me, yes? I 
 am your muzzer's us-band. You permit me to smoke? 
 Ze comtess, she maque her toilette ; she not veil, non, not 
 vary veil," here the count shook his head mournfully and 
 his voice became plaintive and sympathetic. " She have 
 vary bad sickness. Zepain c'estaffreux, mademoiselle, com- 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 
 
 Men elle souffre ze pain he roll her in a knot out,je vous 
 assure she have vary bad pain." 
 
 Gertrude had not opened her mouth during this moving 
 recital; she had a sensation of dizziness, she could not 
 persuade herself that that which she saw and heard was 
 wholly and tangibly real. She had but one feeling for the 
 man before her; she felt degraded at listening to him ; he 
 filled her with disgust. Her father had been right after 
 all, and she had been wofully wrong in rejecting his advice. 
 This was a scheme to entrap her, to extract money from 
 her, and it was so barefaced, so transparent, that she could 
 scarcely understand how she had failed to see through it. 
 
 Count Kharlovitz, perceiving that his eloquence did not 
 elicit any response from Gertrude, turned his attention to 
 Aleck, who was seated on a chair at the window. 
 
 "You is ze fiancJ of Mademoiselle Larkin, monsieur?" 
 he began, interrogatively. 
 
 "Oh, no ; nothing of the sort," said Aleck, blushing. " I 
 am her cousin, and Mr. Larkin's nephew." 
 
 "Ah, yes ; ze cousin ; and your positiong, if you permit 
 me as to be so free?" 
 
 "I am a lawyer, and for the present also a journalist." 
 
 " Ah, yes, &journaliste,jecomprend. You compose for ze 
 newspapare. It is a grande positiong, that positiong of 
 journaliste" 
 
 "That depends upon how you look at it. It is grand in 
 possibilities, but it is not very grandly paid, at least not in 
 the branch of it where I am working." 
 
 "Ah, you maque me surprise, mats zose journaltstes, zay 
 maque grande noise. Zay sell newspapare zousand news- 
 papare tnilliong newspapare ; zay become rich, vary rich, 
 zay build palais, zay live en prince, yes." 
 
 "Well, I've not gotten quite to that point yet," Aleck re- 
 plied, smiling. " I have to build my palaces preliminarily 
 in the air, because that is the cheapest building material I 
 know of." 
 
 The count failed to catch the point of this remark, but 
 pretended, nevertheless, to find it highly interesting. 
 
 "You say ze building is chip, en Amcrique" he ejacu- 
 lated, dubiously ; "mats non ze rent, le loyer de maison it is 
 not chip. A man he live en prince in France for what he pay 
 for house in Amerique" 
 
 The same plaintive voice which Gertrude had heard 
 before now called the count, and he arose and opened the 
 folding doors to the next-room. With his peculiar springy 
 
260 THE MAMMON 
 
 step, which expressed an exaggerated alertness, he entered 
 the bedchamber, and presently returned, bowed to Ger- 
 trude and said : 
 
 "Miss Larkin, your muzzer will have ze plaisir to see 
 you." 
 
 Gertrude rose reluctantly, and looked appealingly at 
 Aleck. 
 
 "Can my cousin go with me ? " she asked. 
 
 " No, your muzzer she have much pain ; she suffare 
 vary much. She see you seule how say you she see you 
 wiz herself." 
 
 The smell of drugs in the adjoining room, as Gertrude 
 entered it, was overpowering. The air was so close that 
 she felt as if she must gasp for breath. It was a sickening 
 bedroom odor, dead, oppressive, and heavy. There were 
 evidences round about of a hasty effort at putting things 
 in order; but a mass of female attire lay in a heap on a 
 lounge, and everything that met the eye of the young girl 
 was soiled and untidy. There was one large window look- 
 ing upon a court-yard ; but the shade was drawn down, 
 leaving the room in twilight. Coming from the light 
 parlor, Gertrude could not immediately adapt her vision to 
 the dusk ; and it took her some seconds to discover that 
 the count had closed the door behind her and that he was 
 himself standing at her side. A horrible fright took pos- 
 session of her ; but she had yet self-control enough to keep 
 from betraying it. 
 
 " Open the door, please," she said, quietly. 
 
 " Mais ze light, it pain ze ice of your muzzer." 
 
 " Never mind, I want that door opened, and I want you 
 to leave me." 
 
 "Mais, mademoiselle, I am ze us-band of your muzzer 
 
 " It does not matter ; I want you to leave me ; or I shall 
 call my cousin." 
 
 The count hesitated a moment, as if he would give her 
 time to reconsider so unreasonable a request. Then see- 
 ing her determination he cocked his head dubiously, 
 spread his palms and with his expressive shoulder shrug, 
 said: " Comme vous voudrez, mademoiselle" and opened the 
 door. Gertie, as soon as he had left her, threw a glance 
 over her shoulder to make sure that Aleck was yet within 
 calling distance, and then advanced cautic*usly to the mid- 
 dle of the floor. In a large mahogany bed she discovered 
 a dark human head outlined against the pillow; and she 
 heard a heavy stertorous breathing. As she became ac- 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 261 
 
 customed to the dimness, she perceived also that a pair of 
 dark glassy eyes were vaguely fixed upon her. With a 
 sense of intolerable oppression she stepped up to the bed ; 
 she felt as if she must cry out, but could not. All her 
 soul was in tumult down in the depths ; but on the surface 
 there was a nightmarish calm which she was powerless to 
 break. 
 
 "Sit down, my child," said a stertorous whisper from the 
 pillows ; " I have been waiting for you. I could not die 
 without seeing you." 
 
 Gertrude was not heartless ; on the contrary she was emo- 
 tional and affectionate, and her tears came easily. If she 
 had not had a recollection of the lively altercation which 
 she had heard from the hall but a few minutes ago she 
 would have been all sorrow and tenderness. But having 
 once had her suspicion aroused she could not again lull 
 it to sleep. She felt convinced that this impressive mise- 
 en-scene was devised especially to move her ; and the very 
 illness itself and the symptoms of approaching dissolution 
 were pretences and lies, invented for sordid purposes. It 
 was a relief to her to think that it was this dreadful man, 
 under whose sway her mother had fallen, who had com- 
 pelled her to write her mendacious letter, and who was 
 responsible for this last cruel mockery. 
 
 " Does your father know that you are here ?" whispered 
 the invalid, her dim eyes gradually kindling into a more 
 vivid consciousness. 
 
 "Yes," answered Gertrude. 
 
 " Did he give his consent to your going ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 "What did he say?" 
 
 "He said I should never come back. He does not want 
 to see me again." 
 
 The sadness of the situation* possessed her with over- 
 whelming force, as she uttered these words, and the tears 
 coursed slowly down her cheeks. Her mother sighed 
 heavily, but said nothing. Gertrude observed with pain 
 how unwholesome she looked. The black rings about her 
 eyes were larger and darker than ever ; and all the creases 
 in her face had a strange duskiness which seemed possi- 
 tively uncanny. Her skin between these creases had no 
 small wrinkles but was puffy and glassy, and the dark, 
 vague pupils of her eyes filled the whole opening of the 
 lids, blending imperceptibly with the iris. 
 
 " Give me your hand," she murmured after a pause ; and 
 
262 THE MAMMON 
 
 Gertrude, though she shrank from her touch, obeyed. 
 But she could not suppress the shudder that shook her 
 from head to foot, as her cool healthy hand came in con- 
 tact with the hot, pulpy, satiny palm of the invalid. 
 
 " I want to tell you, Gertrude," the latter continued in a 
 plaintive murmur, "how shamefully your father maltreated 
 me." 
 
 "No, no," exclaimed the girl, eagerly; "you told me 
 that once before." 
 
 " I haven't told you half of what I have suffered." 
 
 " But I don't want to know it. I don't want you to 
 speak ill of my father." 
 
 "Then you love him, do you ?" 
 
 There was a sudden spiteful energy in this query, which 
 contrasted with the die-away murmur which had preceded 
 it. 
 
 11 Yes, I love him," Gertrude answered with bold earnest- 
 ness. 
 
 "O my God," sighed the Countess, reviving rapidly, "to 
 think that I have brought a child into the world who loves 
 her mother's murderer." 
 
 She turned toward the wall and began to weep hysteri- 
 cally. Gertrude, with a pang in her heart, stood gazing 
 at her without the least stirring of sympathy. She could 
 scarcely bring herself to believe that this was her mother, 
 to whom she owed her very life, and to whom she was 
 bound by the closest and most sacred ties. A dull and* 
 callous heaviness settled upon her mind, and made her 
 impervious to all emotion. She had but one desire and 
 that was to be gone. If she could but find an excuse for 
 interrupting the interview, she would not linger another 
 moment. It seemed an age since she entered this dread- 
 ful place, and she imagined that she was being slowly im- 
 pregnated with its poison.' She yearned to get out into 
 the pure, blessed air, and the bright, free light of heaven. 
 But the thought of the secret she was to learn, somehow, 
 restrained her ; and she stood irresolutely gazing about 
 her, and wondering whether she should take courage and 
 tear herself away. Obeying a blind impulse she went to 
 the window and rolled the shade half way up ; and the 
 sight of the sunshiny world without kindled her energy. 
 It became plain to her in a moment that the secret might 
 be a malicious invention which might bring disquietude 
 and unhappiness into her life which, being incapable 
 either of proof or of disproof, would furnish fresh fuel for 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 263 
 
 torturing reflection. She determined to ward off this secret 
 at all hazards. A dim sense of duty protested weakly 
 against this resolution, but lacked vitality to assert itself. 
 She turned again toward the bed, took her mother's list- 
 less hand and said : "Good-by." 
 
 The countess started into a half-sitting posture with an 
 unpremeditated energy of which in the next moment she 
 repented ; for she sank back among the pillows with a 
 groan and whimpered : 
 
 " Oh, you must not leave me, Gertrude. You must stay 
 with me, and close my dying eyes. I have not many days 
 left on earth." 
 
 "I am sorry," Gertrude answered firmly ; "but I cannot." 
 
 She was anxious to cut this harrowing conversation 
 short, and moved rapidly toward the door. 
 
 " Oh, I knew it," cried her mother after her ; " you are 
 as cruel and heartless as your father. You are like him ; 
 you trample upon a bleeding heart; you " 
 
 Two or three more accusations were hurled after her in 
 a screaming crescendo, but she did not hear them. The 
 Count, seeing that his wife was going off into hysterics, 
 drew the folding doors tightly, and pushed forward a chair 
 in which he invited Gertrude to be seated. But she 
 ignored the invitation, and Aleck, who was no less anxious 
 to be gone, rose to his feet and seized his hat and cane. 
 
 "You stay, un moment and spik wiz me, mademoiselle '?" 
 Count Kharlovitz began, with his obsequious smile. 
 
 "No, thanks," Gertrude answered, " I must be gone." 
 
 " Mais, mademoiselle, you put monaye wiz me for your muz- 
 zer? She have no monaye, non. I have monaye in Poland, 
 but my bruzzer he promeese to send, but he not send. I 
 vait long time ; but he leave me desole'no friends, no 
 monaye, no nozzing in a stranch land." 
 
 He accompanied this speech with the liveliest gesticula- 
 tions, demonstrating his grief at his brother's mendacity 
 and his utter desolation. Gertrude, who was quite pre- 
 pared for such a request, opened her pocket-book, in which 
 there was but ten dollars. She was a little ashamed of 
 offering so small a sum, but nevertheless dropped two five- 
 dollar bills, half apologetically, upon the table. The Count 
 picked them up, looked at them with acute disappoint- 
 ment, and again dropped them upon the table. 
 
 " Mais, mademoiselle," he said in a tone of reproach and 
 offended dignity; "you maque me vary sad. Ten dollare, 
 zat is not vhat I expec from a daughtare to a muzzer. She 
 
264 THE MAMMON 
 
 have vary bad pain your muzzer and she need medi- 
 ceene, vary expensive mediceene, and she have no monaye." 
 
 He addressed this plausible remonstrance to Gertrude ; 
 but turned every moment to Aleck, as if calling him to wit- 
 ness to the entire reasonableness of his position. Aleck, 
 however, supposed that he was being included in the ap- 
 peal for further contributions, and partly to rehabilitate 
 Gertrude's self-respect, partly to make an end of an em- 
 barrassing scene, he added a twenty-dollar bill to the two 
 abashed fives. The Count, whose expectation had evi- 
 dently been raised to a high pitch by Aleck's movement 
 to his pocket, picked up the bank-note between his thumb 
 and his forefinger and laughed contemptuously. 
 
 " Zay Americains," he ejaculated with a gesture of mock 
 respect, "zay \sgrande people. Zay have zirty dollare for 
 ze tears, and ze groans, and ze pains of a dying muzzer. 
 Zay have " 
 
 Aleck, who found that this comedy had now gone about 
 far enough, did not permit the count to finish. 
 
 " I must beg of you," he interrupted, with an angry 
 flash in his eye, " to restrain your tongue in this lady's 
 presence." 
 
 " You have insolence to ask me to 'old my tong," 
 cried the Polander with rising ire ; " I tich you to spik 
 zat vay to a nobleman." 
 
 Aleck had managed during this tirade to tear the door 
 open, and had gotten himself and Gertrude out into the 
 hall. They made haste to descend the stairs, while the 
 count stood leaning over the bannister, hurling the 
 coarsest abuse after them. They entered the cab which 
 stood waiting in the street, and sat gazing at each other 
 in dumfounded silence, while the wheels rattled away 
 over the pavement. 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 26$ 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 THE FINGER OF DESTINY. 
 
 Gertrude was confronted with a problem which de- 
 manded an immediate solution. If she returned home, in 
 spite of her father's warning, would he receive and for- 
 give her, or would he make a scandal and show her the 
 door ? After having considered the question from all 
 sides, she could not help inclining to the belief that he 
 would do the latter. That he was in the right and she in 
 the wrong, she willingly conceded ; but she knew that to 
 him that was not sufficient. She ought to have accepted 
 his judgment without submitting it to the test of experi- 
 ence. She remembered now (though in her excitement 
 it had not previously occurred to her) that he volunta- 
 rily paid his divorced wife $1,500 per annum, and that, ac- 
 cordingly, the intrigue, of which she had been the blind 
 tool, had been nothing but a blackmailing scheme. She 
 bowed herself in the dust and revelled in humiliation, 
 when she thought of the lofty enthusiasm with which she 
 had set out on this enterprise, and its wretched and dis- 
 graceful outcome. Was it then possible that she was so 
 ignorant of reality, so incapable of judgment, so utterly 
 unequipped for the battle of life ? What wonder that 
 men treat the opinions of women so superciliously, if they 
 are really so worthless as guides of action. Gertrude 
 vowed that she would never trust herself again ; never set 
 up her own will against that of her father. 
 
 It flashed through her brain that if her father had been 
 in the right, then she had also been unjust to Dr. Hawk. 
 But, somehow, her fancy did not warm into sympathy 
 with this reflection. As she thought back upon the scene 
 of her parting with the doctor, she became doubly con- 
 vinced that his conduct had been outrageous. She could 
 not determine exactly wherein his offence consisted ; but 
 that he had been unfeeling, sordid, abominable, that was 
 as certain as the stars in heaven. The halo had utterly 
 faded from his head ; and though, rationally considered, he 
 
266 THE MAMMON 
 
 had not been so absolutely wrong, she could not think of 
 him except with a sense of resentment and outrage. 
 
 But Gertrude's inability to excuse the doctor made her 
 only the more ardently contrite as regards the wrong she 
 had done her father. She concluded that she would not 
 start home without having first received his permission. 
 She was unwilling to trust the kind of message she wished 
 to send him to the publicity of the telegraph ; for the lady 
 operator in Torryville was an acquaintance and former 
 schoolmate of hers, and not distinguished for discretion. 
 She would therefore be obliged to remain two or three 
 days in the city, until she could obtain an answer to a 
 letter which she would not delay writing. Aleck, who 
 cordially coincided in whatever she proposed, introduced 
 her, forthwith, to a lady who kept a genteel boarding- 
 house on Madison Avenue, and before nightfall Gertrude 
 found herself comfortably installed in a room which 
 looked out upon a long stretch of backyards, filled with 
 fluttering undergarments hung out to dry. She lost no 
 time in dispatching her letter, which was written out of 
 the fulness of her repentant heart ; and then composed her 
 soul in patience, being confident that the reply would 
 soon be forthcoming. Aleck in the meanwhile, with the 
 recklessness of a millionaire, had promised to disburse 
 out of his abundance the $18 per week which was re- 
 quired to pay her board, and showed in all respects a 
 charming solicitude to remove every stone from her path. 
 In spite of her resolution to be contrite, her elastic spirit 
 rebounded with a humiliating ease, and she could not with 
 her best will maintain a becoming air of lugubrious resig- 
 nation. New York with its noisy turmoil exhilarated 
 her. She walked up the broad bright Avenue with a 
 positive sense of enjoyment, which she knew was unbe- 
 coming, but which she could not help. The endless pro- 
 cession of carnages going to and coming from the Park, 
 the richly attired ladies, reclining on their cushions with 
 majestic ease, the clatter of the horseshoes against the 
 pavement, all the gay pageantry of life in this great 
 metropolis filled her with a child-like pleasure. She had 
 been in New York before, to be sure ; but then she had 
 been a school-girl, and had to promenade in a procession 
 with a blonde pig-tail down her back, watched over by two 
 subacid old maids. She had seen very little then ; and the 
 system of education of which she had been the victim had 
 had for its object not to open her senses, but rather to 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 267 
 
 close them. How much more delightful it was to walk 
 with Aleck, who was so droll and witty, and with the en- 
 thusiasm of a recent arrival showed off the sights of the 
 town to his rural cousin. He felt so metropolitan while 
 engaged in this agreeable occupation, and never grew 
 in the least angry when she twitted him on the fine air 
 of proprietorship which he had acquired during his brief 
 sojourn. 
 
 It was inevitable that Aleck's own affairs should sooner 
 or later become the theme of discussion. His literary as- 
 pirations, it appeared, were as yet unrealized ; nor had his 
 efforts to get a footing in journalism been a brilliant suc- 
 cess. He occupied a very uncertain kind of position, as a 
 writer on space on a leading daily; but his copy, which 
 usually was destined for the Sunday edition, was so merci- 
 lessly slashed into by a malevolent person, named Ram- 
 shaw (who had taken an unconquerable dislike to him) 
 that the pay amounted to next to nothing. He had spoken 
 seriously to Ramshaw, and remonstrated against the kind of 
 treatment to which he subjected him ; but that worthy 
 was so drunk with power that he would listen to no reason. 
 He had even intimated to Aleck that if he did not guard 
 his tongue, it would afford him satisfaction to bounce him. 
 To a man who had long been his own master and practised 
 law with a fair degree of success, it was, of course, a trial 
 to have to put up with such insolence. Aleck's chief con- 
 solation, amid these tribulations, was the hope that, some 
 day, he might be in a position to retaliate. And then, woe 
 unto Henry P. Ramshaw ! It were better for that editor 
 if he had never been born ! 
 
 The zest, the sympathy, the eager interest with which 
 Gertrude listened to the tale of his sorrows were a great 
 comfort to Aleck. That anybody could be base enough to 
 persecute such a dear, droll, kind-hearted fellow as Aleck 
 was more than she could comprehend. She had never 
 heard anything so extraordinary as the things he told her. 
 And her heart went out to him with a sweet spontaneity 
 which made him almost congratulate himself on his mis- 
 fortunes because they brought him such exquisite compen- 
 sation. During these days which would be, alas ! too brief, 
 he gave himself up completely to the enjoyment of his 
 cousin's society. He was in a state of felicity the like of 
 which he had never experienced before. He walked on 
 air, he quaffed the cup of joy in long, deep draughts. His 
 troubles, which before her arrival had preyed upon him 
 
268 THE MAMMON' 
 
 and made him moody, became now mere matters of history 
 that lost all power to annoy him. He began to nourish 
 a hope which, a few months ago, would have seemed to 
 him the height of madness. For, why should she be so 
 bewitchingly sweet to him, laugh with such a delicious 
 relish at his jokes, and accept all his attentions with such a 
 child-like directness and ravishing grace, if she did not 
 mean to encourage his love for her ? That he loved her, 
 she knew well enough; had, indeed, known it before he 
 was quite sure of it himself. She was not heartless ; was 
 she, then, capable of playing with his devotion for her 
 own amusement in order to beguile an idle hour ? 
 
 It was a curious thing that Gertrude did not seriously 
 propound to herself this query. She had, in fact, no relish 
 for any kind of problem, for the present ; and would have 
 liked to live on from day to day, and have others decide 
 every troublesome question, without consulting her. Al- 
 though the three days in which she had expected to hear 
 from her father were past, without bringing any response to 
 her letter, she did not at first take his silence much to heart. 
 She had passed through so many emotions during the last 
 month, that it seemed as if her nature had exhausted itself 
 and she was thoughtlessly luxuriating in indolent repose. 
 She had no conscience for the present, and did not want 
 any. If Aleck had proposed to her, she would have been 
 annoyed, not necessarily because she did not love him, but 
 because loving was more or less fatiguing, and she wished 
 to be left in peace. She was, indeed, as she cheerfully ad- 
 mitted, very fond of Aleck, and was not at all indifferent 
 to his fondness for her. But she hoped he would behave 
 discreetly and make no scenes. 
 
 But this suspensive calm could not last forever. When 
 ten days had elapsed without any letter or message from 
 Torryville, it began to dawn upon Gertrude that her father 
 had disowned her. He had kept his word ; she had re- 
 ceived due warning and had no cause for complaint. She 
 had hoped he would relent ; but had she really believed 
 that he would ? No, she had not. Her momentary aban- 
 donment to pleasure had been a mere forcible staving off 
 of the evil hour which she knew would be coming. She 
 could now postpone no longer the decision of her fate. 
 But she was too wrought up, too distressed, to decide 
 rationally. She lay awake through the small hours of the 
 night, planning and thinking, until her head seemed on 
 the point of splitting. She imagined herself returning, 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 269 
 
 like a prodigal daughter, and flinging herself penitently at 
 her father's feet ; but fine as this seemed, abstractly con- 
 sidered, her temperament rebelled against it; and the voice 
 of prudence also told her that that was not the way to im- 
 press Obed Larkin. He had no sense of the dramatic, and 
 could not be counted upon to play the role which had 
 been assigned to him. On the whole, she liked him better 
 for this very cross grained quality in him which made him 
 so stubborn and unadaptable. She felt sorry for him, 
 knowing well that he would grieve for her ; and yet see no 
 way of getting her back. The thought that she might 
 never see him again wrung her heart with pain. She saw 
 him wandering desolately through the big house in his 
 shiny dress suit, with his ancient deerskin slippers down 
 at the heels, with his broad stooping shoulders, shaking 
 from time to time his white obstinate head in vague re- 
 monstrance against the ways of Providence. She had 
 never been of much comfort to him, perhaps, while she 
 was with him ; but she had a dim consciousness that it had 
 been a satisfaction to him to see her, and that he would 
 miss her sorely now that she was gone. 
 
 Since, then, the homeward way was cut off, it behooved 
 Gertrude to think of other expedients. She concluded 
 that she must go to work and earn her own living. There 
 was a kind of romantic satisfaction in this resolution 
 which appealed to her. It was such a fine thing for a 
 young woman to issue that declaration of independence 
 which emancipates her from her thraldom to the male sex 
 and entitles her to pursue, in her own way, life, liberty, 
 and happiness. The only trouble, in Gertrude's case, was 
 to decide how she should achieve this delightful indepen- 
 dence. She ran over her accomplishments in her mind, 
 and arrived at the conclusion that not one of them had a 
 marketable value. The thing she could do best was to 
 draw ; but she had had no systematic training and had no 
 idea how to set about imparting her knowledge to others. 
 Her modelling was just good enough to make it distress- 
 ing that it was not better ; and in music she had reached 
 about as far as King George III., who, as his teacher as- 
 serted, had advanced from the class of those who did not 
 play at all, into the class of those who played badly. It 
 occurred to her that she might enlist the interest of Kate 
 Van Schaak, who was rich and powerful and had a great 
 clientele of dependents. But there her pride rebelled. To 
 appear before Kate as a petitioner and be patronized and 
 
2/0 THE MAMMON- 
 
 condescended to she would rather starve than do that 
 In the end there was nothing to do but to appeal to Aleck. 
 He had never yet disappointed her confidence. With this 
 comforting reflection she finally drifted into unconscious- 
 ness, just as the dawn was peeping through the shutters. 
 
 When she woke up, it was nearly nine o'clock. The sun 
 shone through the shades with subdued brightness, and 
 sent across her bed a shaft of unobscured light in which 
 particles of illuminated dust were dancing. She reached 
 out fof a handglass and observed her face critically. She 
 could not deny to herself that it was a Handsome face ; 
 though she suspected that Aleck exaggerated its loveli- 
 ness. But if she were to go to work now, sewing or teach- 
 ing or clerking, would not this beauty rather be a disad- 
 vantage to her ? And would she not be likely to lose it, 
 wasting the midnight oil, toiling for the mere pittance 
 she required to keep soul and body together ? She tried 
 to imagine how she would look, a year hence, or two years 
 hence, and shuddered at the picture which her fancy con- 
 jured up. 
 
 She was interrupted in her reverie by a knock at the 
 door. It was the chambermaid, who brought her Aleck's 
 card. He was the same stanch standby in times of peace 
 and in times of trouble. 
 
 " Tell him to wait," said Gertrude, suppressing a yawn. 
 " I'll be down presently." 
 
 She had a strong disinclination to get up and begin in 
 earnest the battle of life. The act seemed half symbolic ; 
 and she felt in all the joints of her young beautiful body a 
 delicious indolence. However, there was no help for it ; 
 she arose out of her bed with a languid stateliness as I 
 imagine Venus must have risen from the foam of the sea. 
 She dressed with leisurely deliberation (she rarely was in 
 haste about anything), and at the end of three-quarters of 
 an hour descended into the parlor, where Aleck was school- 
 ing his patience, studying two atrocious portraits of the 
 landlady and her defunct husband in their wedding attire. 
 
 "Good-morning, Aleck," she said, in response to his 
 greeting, " I suppose you hate me for having kept you 
 waiting so long." 
 
 "Yes," said Aleck, smiling, " I have just arrived at the 
 point when I should like to rend you to" pieces." 
 
 " All right," she answered, " I \vish you would. It would 
 save me a heap of trouble." 
 
 " Trouble?" he inquired, sympathetically; "why, I 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 2JI 
 
 thought we had the sea of trouble behind us, and were 
 now comfortably landed on the shore." 
 
 "Yes, or stranded on the shore," Gertrude suggested, 
 lugubriously. 
 
 Aleck scarcely knew what to answer. His thought re- 
 verted to Count Kharlovitz and his wife as the only 
 source from which trouble might be expected. He shud- 
 dered at the possibility of further dealings with people so 
 utterly lost to all shame. It was therefore a relief to him 
 when his cousin continued: 
 
 " I haven't heard a word from father yet, and you know 
 what that means." 
 
 " I think I do, Gertie," he said, gently. 
 
 They sat looking at each other in silence for some mo- 
 ments. The consciousness of his love for her pervaded him 
 like a quickening warmth ; and the sense of his responsi- 
 bility for her, and his protectorship over her, filled him 
 with tenderness. Yet he was unable to suppress a thrill 
 of pleasure at her absolute dependence upon him. Not 
 that he intended in any way to take advantage of this 
 dependence. But was not the finger of Destiny visible in 
 this complication of circumstances which had brought 
 them so closely together, when he had resignedly blown 
 out the flame of hope and turned his back on his dream of 
 happiness ? There is a kind of innocent fatalism to which 
 we are all more or less subject ; and Aleck derived an 
 exquisite delight from contemplating the benevolent mach- 
 inations of Providence in his behalf. 
 
 "What do you propose to do, Gertie ?" he asked, taking 
 pity on her helplessness. 
 
 " I have got to do something to earn my living. And I 
 wanted to ask you what I had better try." 
 
 He was on the point of saying : " Try to have me earn 
 your living for you," but a fortunate instinct arrested the 
 words on his tongue. He knew from of old that this 
 beautiful girl whom he aspired to make his was a bundle 
 of incalculable impulses, and that a jarring remark, be- 
 traying an ever so trifling lack of delicacy, might ruin his 
 cause forever. "I will do what I can, Gertie," he said, 
 heartily ; " but you know I have few connections in this 
 city, and none that are valuable." 
 
 They discussed the matter for half an hour, and then 
 started for the down-town newspaper offices, and inserted 
 advertisements. They also called at several business 
 houses in response to advertisements for clerks and office 
 
2/2 THE MAMMON 
 
 assistants ; but as short-hand or a knowledge of the type- 
 writer were invariably required, their success was not 
 encouraging. Gertrude then took the heroic resolution 
 to learn the use of the type-writer ; and Aleck promptly 
 hired one for her and had it moved to her room. She 
 made very slow progress, however, and grew hopeless and 
 despondent. Sometimes she set out alone, with the 
 courage of ignorance, answering advertisements ; and had 
 the most humiliating experiences. Her striking beauty, 
 her disdainful air, and her handsome clothes, made her 
 the subject of curious conjecture. A Sunday newspaper 
 contained a rather disrespectful allusion to her; and 
 Aleck, who was a little quixotic in such matters, came 
 near making a scandal at the Press Club, when he 
 learned by whom the squib was written. But by slapping 
 the man's face as he had intended, he would have given 
 Gertrude a disastrous notoriety ; and this reflection so- 
 bered him before he had committed any folly. 
 
 A month passed. February was nearing its end ; slush 
 and rain lasting for weeks, depressed the buoyant metro- 
 politan temper, and quotations in Wall Street dropped 
 from sheer meteorological despondency. Gertrude had 
 conceived an animosity to the type-writer which made 
 her yearn to demolish it ; and short-hand, she declared, 
 plunged her into despair the moment she looked at it. 
 She had the most terrific attacks of melancholy, during 
 which she lay on her bed, stared at the ceiling, and 
 refused to answer when any one addressed her. She 
 seemed to be in a semi-comatose condition ; nothing 
 appealed to her ; nothing interested her ; nothing seemed 
 worth the raising of a hand to avert or to obtain. Her 
 meals, which were served in her room, she sent awav 
 untouched ; and Aleck's anxious messages she left unan- 
 swered. The doctor whom he sent to call upon her had 
 to prescribe something to save his own self-respect ; but 
 it was obvious to Aleck that he was as much puzzled as 
 the rest. One remark, however, which he let fall became, 
 in later years, charged with significance. 
 
 " She has poor nerves," the doctor said. 
 
 "Poor nerves!" exclaimed Aleck, resentfully. It 
 seemed to him an impertinence, on the doctor's part, to 
 assert that anything belonging to Gertie was poor. 
 
 "Yes, most of our young women have poor nerves," 
 declared the leech, impassively ; " some inherit a shat- 
 tered nervous system, some shatter it themselves." 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 
 
 But, as if to refute this unpleasant insinuation, Gertrude 
 appeared at dinner that night, clothed and in her right 
 mind ; and showed no other effects of her fast than a cer- 
 tain lassitude and a weary acquiescence in everything that 
 was said or proposed to her. Aleck was so overjoyed to 
 see her, when he called in the evening, that he could 
 hardly restrain his emotion. 
 
 "You have given us an awful fright, Gertie," he 
 exclaimed, as he gazed into her unresponsive eyes, and 
 pressed her hands, warmly. 
 
 "Whom?" she inquired, listlessly. 
 
 " Me," he answered, flushing with pleasure, as a faint 
 smile curled her lips. 
 
 " I hope you are very well, now." 
 
 "Yes, very well." 
 
 If she had said very ill, she could not have said it more 
 despondently. 
 
 "Why do you speak that way, dear ? Why don't you 
 brace up and tell me you are glad to see me ? " 
 
 "Life, life, life !" she murmured absently, quite uncon- 
 scious that she was echoing Dr. Hawk. 
 
 " Tell me why you are so sad, dear. Is there anything 
 I can do for you ?" 
 
 "No, nothing." 
 
 Her listlessness cut him to the heart. To speak to 
 her was like butting against a stone wall. Yet he returned 
 to the charge once more, determined, if possible, to rouse 
 her from her apathy. 
 
 "Don't you think, Gertie," he asked, quietly, "that I 
 have deserved a little consideration from you ? Couldn't 
 you confide in me a little bit ?" 
 
 She looked at him mutely, while her eyes slowly filled. 
 
 " Aleck," she cried, breaking into a storm of sobs, 
 "Don't you see what a miserable, worthless thing I am ?" 
 
 She flung herself down on the. sofa, covered her face 
 with her hands, and abandoned herself to her grief. He 
 always felt helpless in the presence of a weeping woman ; 
 and half guilty because of his helplessness. He stood 
 looking at her, his gentle face distorted with acute dis- 
 tress. He noted how her shoulders shook, and he noted 
 too the deep groove in her neck where the back hair was 
 gathered up ; and he could not have told why he became 
 possessed with an irrational desire to stoop down and kiss 
 it. There was something appealing and childlike in thnt 
 neck which brought the tears to his eyes and thrilled him 
 18 
 
2/4 THE MAMMON 
 
 with a yearning tenderness. He made no attempt to con- 
 sole her ; knowing that it would be vain. But when the 
 first vehemence of her emotion had spent itself, he seated 
 himself at her side and slipped his hand into hers. She 
 feebly returned its pressure, and grew calmer. It was as 
 if his touch soothed and comforted her. After a while 
 she raised herself into a sitting posture and began to fum- 
 ble for her handkerchief. She looked persistently away 
 from him until she had found it. Then she did it up into 
 a little ball and pressed it against her eyes. " You mustn't 
 mind my foolishness, Aleck," she said, catching her 
 breath, like a child who has been crying. "You know I 
 can't help it. I'm so miserable." 
 
 There was imminent danger of another outbreak, but 
 Aleck, in his anxiety to prevent it, put his arm about her 
 waist and drew her unresistingly toward him, and then her 
 wondrous head lay upon his breast, and her warm breath 
 wandered over his face. Oh, how beautiful she was ! How 
 touchingly beautiful and precious ! The pure blue depth 
 of her eyes, with the strange flame-like lines in the iris, 
 was so innocent, so devoid of reflection. He marvelled at 
 his own audacity that he could hold her thus feel her 
 heart beat against his and yet the earth continued on its 
 ancient round and the sun stood unmoved in the heavens. 
 The stars did not break into a jubilant paean, as they might 
 have been expected to do, in order to celebrate so great an 
 event. The eternal, beautiful mystery of sex, which to a 
 pure-minded, virginal man like Aleck was doubly myste- 
 rious, filled him with reverential tenderness. He loved this 
 girl, had loved her as long as he could remember. He had 
 seen her and talked with her daily for many years. And yet 
 there was something remote and strange about her, some- 
 thing divinely awe-inspiring ; because she was that wonder- 
 ful, inscrutable, exquisite, and adorable thing a woman. 
 Aleck was thrilled with this consciousness ; she was not 
 his cousin Gertie whom he had known and quarrelled 
 with in Torryville ; but she was a lovely embodiment of 
 a sublime fact of Nature. She was born to suffer as he 
 would never suffer. She was born to be loved as he 
 could never be loved. She was the last and best pinnacle 
 of God's works ; the supreme result of God's creative in- 
 telligence. 
 
 Aleck made no attempt to formulate these feelings as 
 they surged through his soul. His head was in a whirl ; 
 he thought with a delicious dimness ; but he felt with a 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 2?$ 
 
 delicious acuteness. He did not speak, for it seemed a 
 pity to mar such a glorious fulness of feeling with poor 
 shrill words. This high-tide of pure emotion and noble 
 bliss comes but once in a life, while the soul is young and 
 the heart unspoiled, and to the great crowd of super- 
 civilized creatures it comes never at all. The golden age 
 survives in a few hearts, and the tree of life still yields a 
 noble fruit to the man and the woman whom God created, 
 and it can never lose its sweetness. Aleck found himself 
 drawn by an irresistible force closer and closer to the girl 
 who lay in his arms ; he bent his head over her and he 
 kissed her again and again. She uttered no protest, but, 
 looked at him with eyes full of dewy brightness. It was a 
 luxury to her to feel his protecting arm, to see the sweet af- 
 fection that beamed out of his eyes, to hear the caressing mur- 
 mur of his voice, as he told her of his love. She was con- 
 scious of no wild ineffable delight such as his. There was 
 little of the divine flutter and agitation such as she had 
 experienced when she pledged herself to Hawk. She was 
 like a storm-beaten dove that tumbles wearily into an open 
 doorway and rests, rejoicing in its security. If Gertrude 
 had not been fond of Aleck she would not have accepted 
 the refuge he offered her ; but she had no clear idea of any- 
 thing except an imperious desire to be rid of the responsi- 
 bility for her own future. She thought, perhaps, she loved 
 him. The kindness she felt toward him ; the respect she ' 
 entertained for his character ; and above all her trust in his 
 good, staunch, faithful heart may have appeared to her 
 hardly distinguishable from love. 
 
 " I am afraid you have made a bad bargain, dear," she 
 said to him, smiling with languid radiance. " I am a poor, 
 useless thing, and I shan't be any help to you at all." 
 
 "My sweet girl," he cried, and it seemed as if his heart 
 must burst with happiness. " My darling girl ! " 
 
 " Poor Aleck," she murmured, with an expression half 
 tender, half compassionate. " My poor Aleck ! " 
 
 He did not suspect that she was thinking of Dr. Hawk, 
 and pitying him that he could enjoy with such rapture the 
 leavings from another's table. For she was no longer in 
 her own sight as precious, as proudly unattainable as she 
 had been. She could not quite get rid of an uneasy sense 
 of guilt, as her memory stung her with dimly remembered 
 scenes. Was she not defrauding this dear, guileless cousin 
 of hers in allowing him to quaff the turbid goblet she was 
 holding to his lips as if it were the bright, immortal nectar ? 
 
2/6 THE MAMMON" 
 
 And yet, why should she spoil his ecstacy ? Why begrudge 
 him the full measure of his joy ? 
 
 She lay long passively in his arms, smiling at him with 
 the same dewy brightness, accepting his passionate ca- 
 resses, feeling the blood surge with a luxurious fulness 
 through her veins. She arose at the sound of an imagi- 
 nary knock at the door ; and then the mood was spoiled 
 and did not return. They walked for half an hour arm in 
 arm up and down the floor, and discussed rationally their 
 plans for the future. It was decided that they were to 
 marry without delay, and Aleck was to write to Mr. Lar- 
 kin and ask his consent. If this consent was withheld, 
 they concluded to notify Mr. Larkin of the marriage after 
 it was consummated. Of course, they would have to com- 
 mence their house-keeping in a small way; for Aleck was 
 scarcely making a living for himself, nor were his pros- 
 pects particularly brilliant. Gertie, with all her accom- 
 plishments, was not an eminent economist, and knew about 
 as much of the value of money as she knew of differential 
 calculus. The $3,200 which Aleck had brought with him 
 from Torryville, and which constituted his entire worldly 
 possessions, appeared to her quite an imposing sum, and 
 the deplorable fact that about $800 had to be deducted for 
 excess of expenditure over income since his arrival in New 
 York made no perceptible impression upon her. She was 
 ready for every sacrifice ; nay, gloried in the prospect of 
 poverty and self-immolation, because she hoped in that 
 way to make up her sentimental account with Aleck. She 
 did not hint, even to herself, that she had taken him as a 
 pis aller; but she felt that, compared to the great and rapt- 
 urous love which he had flung at her feet, the sentiment 
 which she entertained for him was a feeble and worthless 
 thing ; and it was therefore a satisfaction that the future 
 would afford her a chance of doing penance. 
 
 A week after the day of their engagement Aleck and 
 Gertrude were married, without having heard from Mr. 
 Larkin. They went to a Congregational clergyman in 
 Brooklyn, in company with two members of the Press Club, 
 who acted as witnesses. They went on a wedding journey 
 on the elevated road to High Bridge and Washington 
 Heights, and after having boarded for a week, hired a 
 pretty flat of four rooms and kitchen in the seventh story 
 of the Patagonia apartment house. About that time Aleck 
 met by chance Henry Thurlow, a former classmate of his 
 in Larkin University, who was about to found a school 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 
 
 for boys in the region on the west side of Central Park. 
 They had not been particularly congenial in their college 
 dnys ; but they now took a great liking to each other, and 
 the end of it was that Aleck accepted an engagement from 
 Thurlow, as teacher of English and history, at a salary of 
 $1,200 a year. The problem of bare existence was thus 
 preliminarily solved ; if there was one man in the city of 
 New York who was supremely happy, that man was Alex- 
 ander Larkin, 
 
2/8 THE MAMMON' 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 HORACE GOES A WOOING. 
 
 When the Honorable Horace Larkin heard of his brother's 
 marriage, his first reflection was that Aleck must in some 
 way have gotten a glimpse of his uncle's will. He could 
 not otherwise have committed the folly of marrying so dis- 
 agreeable a girl as Gertrude ; for Horace had always pro- 
 fessed inability to discover any charm in Gertrude. On 
 second thought, however, lie receded from this opinion, 
 first, because he did not see how his brother could have 
 gained the intelligence he attributed to him ; and secondly 
 because, with his generous Quixotism, Aleck would be 
 perfectly capable of walking straight into the trap which 
 that artfully innocent minx of a girl had set for him. She 
 had by this time found out that Hawk was a knave, Horace 
 reasoned, and having grown tired of him had deliberately 
 involved Aleck in her toils. It is needless to say that the 
 honorable legislator would have entertained a higher re- 
 spect for his brother, if he had speculated in Gertrude's 
 affection with an eye to securing her fortune. It was a 
 great question, however, whether such a speculation would 
 have proved profitable ; for the old man was quite capable 
 of punishing his daughter's disobedience by substituting 
 some other name for hers in his last will and testament. 
 Horace was, however, for the time being, too absorbed in 
 his own affairs to be greatly perturbed by any body else's 
 blunders. He had scarcely been a month in the legisla- 
 ture before he was recognized as a considerable person- 
 age. He made very little noise; disappointed frequently 
 by his vote those of his constituents who had supported 
 him because he was "a gentleman," and played a discreet 
 but skilful game with the one view of obtaining power. 
 The lobbyists who approached him with corrupt proposi- 
 tions could never quite make out whether he was too high- 
 toned to be bribed or was holding out fora higher figure. 
 He displayed no moral indignation ; but fenced dexter- 
 ously with jokes and humorous anecdotes. Some main- 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 2/9 
 
 tained that he made fun of them to their faces ; others 
 (where it served his purpose to make that impression) re- 
 garded him as a harmless, jolly dog who had gone into 
 politics chiefly for his amusement. For all that the im- 
 pression gradually gained ground that he was too rich to 
 be bribed ; and his colleagues were inclined to concede 
 that under such circumstances honesty was not a bad 
 policy. 
 
 It was during a legislative recess about Easter that 
 Horace resolved to carry out a plan which, since his de- 
 parture from Torryville, had never been absent from his 
 mind. He had asked Kate Van Schaak, when he took 
 leave of her at the railroad station, whether she would 
 permit him to call upon her in New York ; and she had, 
 after a moment's hesitation, granted him the permission. 
 Knowing well the import of this diplomatic pause, he had 
 concluded not to be in a hurry ; and Kate began to fear 
 that she had overdone her diplomacy when the whole 
 winter had passed without his darkening her doorway. 
 She thought of him frequently, sometimes with pleasure, 
 sometimes with irritation. She found it hard to forgive 
 him for appearing to hold in such light esteem a privilege 
 which she granted to so few. She could not quite make 
 up her mind whether she liked or disliked him ; she would 
 have been grateful to any one who could have settled that 
 question for her. He had invaded her life, as the Goths 
 and Vandals did the well-ordered, civilized Roman Em- 
 pire, and it was impossible to get rid of him again. He 
 was a man whom one could hate, but not ignore. Nay, 
 he was a man, who, if he were a little more civilized, she 
 would be capable of loving. 
 
 Kate was sitting with her writing desk on her lap, in- 
 dicting a letter to a young curate whom she permitted to 
 draw upon her for a stated monthly sum, in aid of his 
 charities. Having finished the letter in a clear English 
 caligraphy (which was full of character and very different 
 from the high-shouldered American girl's hand) she signed 
 a check for $250 and directed the envelope. She heard the 
 butler's knock at the door and bade him enter. The card 
 which he presented upon the silver salver bore the name 
 Horace Larkin. She noted the absence of Mr. and the 
 florid, Gaskel compendium style of script, which was no 
 longer in fashion. 
 
 " Tell the gentleman I'll be down presently," she said, 
 stooping to hide the blush that sprang to her cheek. 
 
28O THE MAMMON 
 
 It was so contrary to her principles to betray eagerness 
 to see any one that she lingered for ten or fifteen minutes 
 before the mirror, arranging her hair, shaking the skirt of 
 her dress into the proper folds, contemplating her back 
 view in a hand glass, perfuming her handkerchief, and 
 judging critically the effect of each decorative touch she 
 bestowed upon her stately person. She wore a dress of 
 dull blue stuff, of perfect fit, cut with impressive sim- 
 plicity, and with a royal amplitude in the train. She de- 
 scended the stairs, and with Olympian serenity entered 
 the parlor and greeted her visitor. He had spent his time 
 while waiting in studying the room, the magnificence of 
 which he was not connoisseur enough to appreciate. It 
 was finished in white and gold in the style of the directoire. 
 One wall was covered with a gobelin tapestry of the most 
 exquisite workmanship and coloring, representing an 
 eighteenth century fete champetre full of delightful rococo 
 frivolity. Every piece of furniture, even including the 
 piano, which was finished in inlaid work and white enamel, 
 carried out the same effect, uniting into an indescribably 
 rich and harmonious tout ensemble. There were pictures 
 upon the wall, not one of which was allowed to obtrude 
 itself, though there was not one which was not worthy of 
 minute study. There was a Jerome, a Bouguereau, and 
 two charming Corots. 
 
 " I am very glad to see you, Mr. Larkin," said the dam- 
 sel whose taste had found expression in this chaste splen- 
 dor ; " won't you please be seated ? " 
 
 She spoke with just the proper degree of friendliness, 
 but quietly and without effusion. He had meant to say 
 something significant, as he grasped her hand ; but the 
 cool serenity of her manner chilled him, and made him 
 conclude not prematurely to expose his intentions. He 
 Horace Larkin was too important a person to be trifled 
 with ; and you could never tell what a girl of this kind 
 might do. 
 
 " Political life seems to agree with you," she continued, 
 seating herself in a white tapestried chair opposite to him ; 
 " yoTi look well ; you have the air of a conqueror." 
 
 " Then my air belies me," he answered, throwing his 
 resolution to the winds; "for in your presence I feel like 
 one conquered." 
 
 "Ah, Mr. Larkin," she rejoined with her calm, beauti- 
 ful smile, "you have not lost your cleverness at repartee, 
 I observe. But you ought to remember that I am the 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 28 1 
 
 cousin of Bella Robbins, and I might take it into my head 
 to report to her some of your fine speeches." 
 
 " I have no objection," he replied with a recklessness 
 which he was far from feeling; "though I doubt if it 
 would be a kindness to her." 
 
 Kate looked at him for a moment with a deepening seri- 
 ousness. She did not quite know how to interpret that 
 remark. 
 
 "I suppose," she said, with an assumed lightness of man- 
 ner, "that I violate no confidence if I tell you that I know 
 of your engagement.'* 
 
 " Then you know more than I do. I am no longer en- 
 gaged to Miss Robbins." 
 
 She sat still as a statue for two or three seconds, and 
 not a gleam of the joy that flared up within her was re- 
 flected in her face. His engagement had not presented 
 itself to her as a serious obstacle, if she should conclude 
 to encourage his advances ; but still its rupture seemed, 
 in a way, providential, and cleared away a host of doubts. 
 
 " I am afraid poor Bella will take that very much to 
 heart," she said, in her most conventional tones ; "she was 
 quite fond of you." 
 
 He was on the point of answering jocosely that she was 
 neither the first nor would she be the last ; but the inap- 
 propriateness of this became suddenly apparent to him, as 
 he glanced about the room. That kind of frontier humor 
 required a different setting from the white and gold a la 
 directoire. 
 
 " It was a sad affair to us both," he finally replied ; " I 
 mistook her ; she mistook me." 
 
 Kate got up and rustled about the room in search of some- 
 thing. The very noise of her skirts, somehow, seemed to 
 him delicious. A woman who moved with such pomp and 
 circumstance whose simplest act bore the impress of a 
 stately self-respect by God's rood that was the kind of 
 woman he would like to attach to his life, to enrich, widen,, 
 and dignify it. He began to feel a little bit ashamed of 
 his origin, as it dawned upon him how supremely civilized 
 and refined Kate was in comparison with him. How poor 
 and sordid his past had been ; how simple his aspira- 
 tions ; how crude his ideals ! Rustic though he was, he 
 did not fail to perceive that she carried her head as no 
 other woman did whom he had ever looked upon. And 
 how exquisitely finished she was as to ears, and nails, and 
 hands ! And could anything be more perfect in its way, 
 
282 THE MAMMON- 
 
 / 
 
 than that self-contained face, with its pure and placid 
 beauty. 
 
 Horace made these reflections while the object of his 
 admiration went to the piano and picked up a small gold 
 bottle of smelling salts. She had broken off the conversa- 
 tion just long enough to afford the painful topic time for 
 a decent burial. As she again seated herself, the sweet 
 faint perfume that enveloped her was wafted toward him 
 and the impression of her rich and rare quality became 
 overwhelmingly vivid. It was a new experience for this 
 self-complacent, supercilious villager to entertain, as he 
 did in this moment, a doubt of his own admirableness and 
 a lurking suspicion that he had, perhaps, been deceived in 
 himself ; that, possibly, he was a little crude. But such as 
 he was, he meant to try for this prize with all his might, 
 and if there was strength and talent and virtue in him, he 
 was resolved to strain them to the utmost in this enterprise. 
 
 "Tell me, Mr. Larkin," Kate began with the air of in- 
 troducing anew topic, " why do you think it is that so few 
 of our young men of good family and education go into 
 politics ? " 
 
 " It is," Horace replied in his leisurely drawl, " because 
 they are not fit for politics. They don't know enough." 
 
 " Why, you surprise me ! Is it your opinion, then, that 
 those individuals from the liquor saloons and the slums 
 who do govern us are the fittest to govern ? " 
 
 " No, they are deplorably unfit, but yet fitter than Anglo- 
 maniacs and blue-blooded Knickerbockers \vho squander 
 their lives in laborious and vapid amusements, in coaching, 
 riding after hounds, yawning in club windows, and in a 
 hundred other ways aping the English aristocracy on a 
 small and contemptible scale. The majority of our poli- 
 ticians are a low-lived lot, and many of them corrupt. But 
 they have the courage to be American crudely and un- 
 compromisingly American and that is, in my eyes, a vir- 
 tue which is not to be lightly rated." 
 
 " And may I ask, Mr. Larkin, what do you mean by being 
 American ?" 
 
 " Being frankly, ably, enterprisingly plebeian. It is the 
 plebeian after all, who shall inherit the earth 
 
 " I beg your pardon. According to the Bible it is the 
 meek." 
 
 " I must differ with the Bible, then ; for the meek, in my 
 experience, if they inherit anything, never manage to keep 
 it. It passes, sooner or later, into the hands of the strong, 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 283 
 
 the self-assertive, the grasping.. But these, as you will ad- 
 mit, are plebeian characteristics. A universally prosperous, 
 comfortable, impudent, and enterprising mob that is the 
 goal toward which we are steering ; and in my opinion it 
 is a good and desirable one." 
 
 It gave him satisfaction to enunciate these Jacobin senti- 
 ments, in all their naked offensiveness, because he was in 
 this very moment in danger of being unfaithful to them. 
 He cherished in his heart a vague hostility to the exclusive, 
 aristocratic world which he was aspiring to enter ; and he 
 resented his own weakness in finding that desirable which 
 he despised. The discussion continued for fifteen or 
 twenty minutes ; and he managed, as before, to impress 
 Kate greatly with his ability, his originality, and the distinct- 
 ness of his personality. It was in this latter quality that she 
 discovered his charm. His ruthless, slam-bang style of 
 argument was such an entire novelty in the tepid, well-re- 
 gulated atmosphere of her quiet and well-bred existence. 
 She had heard no man speak like that. And she believed 
 that the man who could speak like that was sufficiently re- 
 markable to achieve anything upon which he concentrated 
 his energies. She had an instinctive perception that she 
 was herself the object upon which his energies were pre- 
 liminarily concentrated. And, much as she rebelled against 
 the conclusion, she was inclined to believe that he would 
 also, in this instance, prove more than a match for her. 
 She liked his fearlessness in making such a merciless on- 
 slaught on her prejudices. He was as original as a wooer as 
 he was in everything else. When he got up to leave, she 
 gave him her hand with extreme graciousness and said : 
 " I hope, Mr. Larkin, you will give us the pleasure of your 
 company to dinner, to-morrow night, at half after seven. 
 I should' like to have you make the acquaintance of my 
 father and mother ; and I shall also make an effort to get 
 my brother Adrian and his wife. It will be entirely en 
 famille" 
 
 Horace grew nearly pink through his coarse, weather- 
 tanned complexion, as he uttered the conventional phrase 
 accepting this invitation. It was impossible, however 
 much as he steeled himself against the sentiment, not to 
 feel exceptionally favored, and rise a trifle in one's own 
 estimation, at having been thought worthy to breathe this 
 highly sublimated air in the company of such exclusive 
 and privileged beings. 
 
284 THE MAMMON 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 THE CROW DINES WITH THE PEACOCK. 
 
 The Van Schaaks always dined in state. They rarely 
 made special preparations for guests, except to order an 
 extra lot of flowers ; for their chef was an eminent man in 
 his line, and was daily turning out culinary chefs (tceuvre. 
 Old Mr. Van Schaak regarded the art of dining as one of 
 the fine arts, and suffered the penalty of his devotion to 
 gastronomies in acute periodic attacks of gout. He never 
 could learn wisdom, however, and after a few vain efforts 
 gave up the attempt. Terrapin, canvas-back, and highly 
 spiced pate's of a complex and dangerous composition, 
 were to him what the world, the flesh, and the devil are to 
 men whose susceptibilities take the normal direction. He 
 dressed with extreme care, bestowing as much attention 
 upon his toilet as if he had been a reigning belle. A 
 fresh rosebud was never missing from the lapel of his 
 coat. The curve of his hat brim was always according to 
 the latest and most correct taste. He was five feet nine 
 inches high, and of full habit ; his gait and bearing were 
 rather pompous, but, like every man absorbed in little 
 things, he was fussy and somewhat irritable. His neat, 
 round head, which was a little flattened on the top, was 
 covered with curly gray hair, in a fairly good state of 
 preservation ; and his fat, serious face had an extra capil- 
 lary adornnlent in the shape of a mustache, likewise gray, 
 with ends carefully twisted. 
 
 Kate, who was a good judge of character, did not deceive 
 herself with the idea that this pink of Knickerbocker 
 propriety would take kindly to the gentleman from Torry- 
 ville, whom she had invited to dinner. She had to ex- 
 plain her motives at some length, urging, among other 
 things, the wealth and importance of the Larkin family, 
 and her duty to repay the attentions she had accepted 
 from them during her visit with her uncle. When Hor- 
 ace arrived in the evening, Mr. Van Schaak was therefore 
 reconciled to his existence, though he yet found it annoy- 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 285 
 
 ing to have to dine unknown people of questionable ante- 
 cedents. The fact that his guest was a member of the 
 Assembly was particularly distasteful to the old gentle- 
 man ; and when Horace entered with his usual sans cert- 
 monie air, and on being presented shook his hand with 
 rural cordiality, Mr. Van Schaak retired like a turtle into 
 his shell and was only reluctantly polite. Mrs. Van 
 Schaak, whose view of the world did not differ much from 
 that of her husband, inquired with seeming interest about 
 the geography, climate, and products of Torryville, as if it 
 had been a foreign country, and asked him when he 
 meant to return " to the West." She was a large and 
 stately lady, about fifty years of age, with gray puffs, 
 plump face, and a nose somewhat pronounced, carried at 
 an angle expressive of fastidiousness and disdain. She 
 was handsome, but looked as if she could be unpleasant 
 in private. On Horace she had a most depressing influ- 
 ence, and he felt a continual impulse to glance into the 
 looking-glass to see if anything was the matter with his 
 costume. It was a great relief to him when Adrian Van 
 Schaak, Jr., arrived with his wife ; for a fresh breeze seemed 
 to enter with him, and the conversation started up like a 
 blaze out of ashes. This was not due to the rather dull 
 and portly young man himself, however, but to the lively 
 little lady upon whom he had bestowed his name. She 
 played at ducks and drakes with the family dignity, in 
 the opinion of her elders, and in her determination to be 
 amused threw all other considerations to the wind. She 
 asked Horace ten questions before he had time to answer 
 one ; declared, under the impression that he came from 
 some remote locality, that the West was awfully jolly, and 
 confided to him, at the end of five minutes that she 
 thought Eastern society frightfully slow. It turned out, 
 presently, that she was the daughter of one of those great 
 California millionaires who had fled from the wrath to 
 come, when Kearney and the sand-lotters seemed in a 
 fair way to gain control of the State. She had diamonds 
 which it would have made a woman ill to look at, if her 
 bony neck and shoulders had not had the effect of a consola- 
 tion. She was not- pretty, but carried herself as if she 
 thought she was. Her expression after each one of her 
 reckless speeches was a bid for applause ; and if she 
 failed to get it, she showed her displeasure. 
 
 " I do hope you are going to take me out to dinner, 
 Mr. Harkness," she said to Horace, as soon as she had 
 
286 THE MAMMON 
 
 ascertained that he possessed the gift of speech ; " you 
 know, my father-in-law always lectures me on the error of 
 my ways, when he gets a chance at me ; and I don't like 
 that, would you ? " 
 
 "Your father-in-law must be very hard to please, if he 
 can find anything to criticise in you," said Horace, with 
 polite mendacity. He honestly believed that truth could 
 exist only among men, and that sincerity, if practiced to- 
 ward women, would wreck civilization. 
 
 "There ! didn't I say so ?" cried Mrs. Van Schaak, with 
 vivacity ; " I am going to tell him that, as sure as you live. 
 I have always suspected that I was an unappreciated 
 woman, and when so great an authority as you agrees with 
 me that simply settles it." 
 
 A tall blond gentleman with English side-whiskers and 
 a bald spot on the top of his head, here made his bow to 
 the hostess and was introduced to Horace as Mr. Suydam. 
 Mrs. Van Schaak, Jr., added, sotto voce, that he was im- 
 mensely rich. He had inherited Broadway and Fifth Av- 
 enue property which piled up millions for him at a dizzy- 
 ing rate. He kept a clerk whose sole business was cutting 
 off coupons. He was simply wild about Kate, and the 
 chances were that sooner or later he would marry her. All 
 this the indiscreet little lady managed to impart to Horace 
 in less than a minute, W 7 hile the company rose and each 
 moved toward his predestined partner. A little middle- 
 aged woman, who looked as if she disapproved of the plan 
 of creation, had in the meanwhile made her appearance, 
 quite noiselessly, and been presented as Miss Terhune. She 
 found herself, by an unpleasant necessity, attached to Ad- 
 rian Van Schaak, Jr., who swore inwardly, but outwardly of- 
 fered his arm with irreproachable politeness. Horace, too, 
 was inclined to rebel against Providence, when he saw the 
 odious Mr. Suydam march off with Kate, while he himself 
 had the honor of bringing up the rear of the procession 
 with the hostess. It was something of a compensation, 
 however, to find Kate his neighbor "on the right, and to 
 note the vivid regret expressed in the face of Mrs. Adrian, 
 Jr., at her having lost him. The dining-room was palatial 
 in its dimensions. It was finished in oak, with game 
 pieces exquisitely carved on each panel of the wall. The 
 ceiling, which was also of oak, was one mass of rich and 
 elaborate carving. A corona of gas-jets with reflectors 
 hung high up above the heads of the diners, and shed a 
 soft radiance downward. At the windows there were deep 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 287 
 
 curtained recesses with cushioned seats, which invited to 
 amorous confidences. The suspicion which had been 
 growing upon Horace since yesterday's visit, that he was 
 a hayseed and a backwoods man, and that there were a 
 multitude of things which lay outside of his philosophy, 
 began again to knock at the door of his mind, and de- 
 mand admittance. He was so unused to humility in his 
 estimate of himself that this persistent suspicion made 
 him uncomfortable. But the thought again suggested it- 
 self that he was a deuced lot cleverer than all these effete 
 gentleman put together, and he began to itch to assert 
 himself, so as to give them a proof of his superiority. 
 Dulness had so far reigned supreme at the table, the re- 
 marks falling in languid driblets, glaringly premeditated 
 and artificial. Mrs. Van Schaak had inquired, with a 
 bland reserve which would have counteracted any tendency 
 on his part to feel flattered by her interest, where he was 
 going to spend the summer, where he spent last summer, 
 and whether he didn't think vulgar people were a great 
 bore ? Mr. Van Schaak had, by way of making himself 
 agreeable, impressed upon his daughter-in-law the impor- 
 tance of buying her pate de foie gras in big jars, not in the 
 small ones, because the latter contained really an inferior 
 article, and he was just launching into his usual prandial 
 lecture on the necessity of putting away and mortifying 
 the old plebeian Adam in her which savored of California, 
 and cultivating a new aristocratic Adam of Knickerbocker 
 reserve and propriety. Kate had been discussing the Jun- 
 ior Patriarchs' Ball with Mr. Suydam, and for the sake of 
 drawing Horace into the conversation reported to him that 
 gentleman's last remark. 
 
 " Mr. Suydam thinks," she said with quiet affability, 
 " that the Junior Patriarchs' will have to be given up, be- 
 cause so many objectionable people manage to intrude 
 there." 
 
 Horace, who was well aware that he was himself, from 
 Mr. Suydam's point of view, objectionable, was inclined 
 to accept this remark as a challenge. It irritated him to 
 see this vapid and self-important snob talk confidentially 
 with Kate about subjects from which he was of necessity 
 excluded. He resolved to break a lance with Mr. Suydam, 
 and saw here his opportunity. 
 
 "Who are those objectionable people ?" he asked, not 
 loudly, but yet with a kind of bugle note in his voice which 
 roused everyone from his apathy. 
 
288 THE MAMMON 
 
 "Who are they," Suydam repeated with astonishment ; 
 "why they are prosperous trades-people and brokers and 
 creatures whom nobody ever heard of before." 
 
 " Excuse me if 1 appear inquisitive," Horace went on, 
 "but who is nobody ?" 
 
 " Now really you quite embarrass me, nobody is well 
 aw I referred to people in good social standing like 
 the Van Schaaks, and the Livingstons, and your humble 
 servant, if you like." 
 
 " That is rather excessive modesty on your part, I should 
 say. I should never have presumed to call you nobody." 
 
 It was a cheap joke, of course, and Horace was not in 
 the least proud of it. But in that dense and heavy atmos- 
 phere of dull propriety which pervaded the social circle 
 of the Van Schaaks, any little display of wit made a sen- 
 sation. Young Adrian looked at his father, with a strong 
 inclination to laugh ; but the old gentleman, who would 
 countenance no such levity, coughed into his napkin and 
 looked more shocked than amused. Only Mrs. Adrian, Jr., 
 gave a ringing laugh, which she suddenly checked when 
 she perceived that no one joined in it. Old Mrs. Adrian 
 turned her eyes upon Horace with the stare of a loco- 
 motive. In order to relieve the embarrassment, he felt 
 obliged to say something. 
 
 "It is a curious fact," he said, with smiling ease, " how 
 little we are capable of learning from history. The new 
 man and the new nation that carries the future in its 
 pocket is always objectionable to the venerable aristoc- 
 racy who, as somebody has said, have their future behind 
 them." 
 
 The remark was addressed to the company in general, 
 but nobody seemed disposed to take it up, except Mrs. 
 Adrian, Jr., who exclaimed gayly : 
 
 " Ah, now you are getting personal." 
 
 Her manner was so inimitably droll that Kate could 
 not keep from laughing ; and as soon as she had given 
 the signal, all joined with one accord. This unexpected 
 approval emboldened Mrs. Adrian. 
 
 " I knew it," she said, "the moment I saw you that you 
 had something weighty in your pockets ; but I didn't sus- 
 pect it was the future." 
 
 " Allow me to compliment you on your perspicacity," 
 said Horace, laughing. 
 
 " Thanks ! But from this time forth you may know that 
 my eyes are upon you. I shall watch to see the great 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 289 
 
 future rise from your pockets, like the Afrit from the jar 
 in the Arabian Nights." 
 
 " I hope it won't be anything so frightful." 
 
 " No, but as big." 
 
 Old Mr. Van Schaak, who failed to appreciate this sort 
 of chaff chiefly because he missed the points of the jokes, 
 here addressed himself to Horace with benevolent su- 
 periority. 
 
 " Did I understand you to say," he asked, " that you 
 liked objectionable people ? " 
 
 That was as near as he ever came to apprehending a 
 complex sentiment. 
 
 "Yes," said Horace, boldly ; "I am myself a plebeian, 
 and like my kind. America is a plebeian state, a raw, vig-, 
 orous, and aggressive new-comer among the nations oi 
 the earth, and all the venerable lands of Europe there- 
 fore dislike her find her objectionable. Why not, then, 
 frankly recognize this as a distinction and a source of 
 strength, instead of setting up a little mimic aristocracy 
 of our own, which can be knocked down with the great- 
 est ease by a few hard-shell facts gleaned from history ? " 
 
 Mr. Van Schaak was quite unequal to a discussion of 
 this sort, and in order to curb his indignation drank a 
 glass of champagne. But he sent Suydam a glance which 
 was an unmistakable exhortation to put down the sacri- 
 legious iconoclast. 
 
 " Then you mean to say," the blonde millionaire began, 
 " that Americans ought to be ashamed of their ancestry." 
 
 " No, I was just trying to say that they ought not." 
 
 Here was another point scored, and Mr. Suydam, seeing 
 that he was no match in wit for Horace, would have 
 relapsed into silence, if he had not felt the exhorting 
 glances from all sides which appealed to him to step into 
 the breach as the champion of their cause. But the wine 
 he had drank and his fear of discomfiture excited him 
 unduly and made him ill at ease. 
 
 "When I hear a man talk as you do," he said, inso- 
 lently, "I always suspect that his own ancestry is not 
 much to brag of." 
 
 " There you misapprehend me again," Horace replied, 
 with his calm smile ; "I do brag of mine; and what I 
 deprecate is excuses and concealment. My father was 
 originally a saddler ; then he became a mason and some- 
 thing of an inventor; my grandfather was a farmer. 
 They lived small and sordid lives, no doubt ; and their 
 19 
 
2QO THE MAMMON 
 
 manners, I suspect, were none of the best ; but they were 
 good, honest people, and they were part of the strength of 
 this great new, raw-boned continent which holds your 
 future and mine." 
 
 There was a pause of nearly a minute, and everyone 
 ate in silence. Mrs. Van Schaak fixed again her locomo- 
 tive stare on Horace, whose superb, smiling imperturba- 
 bility irritated her even more than his objectionable ances- 
 try. To think that she was dining a man whose father 
 had been a saddler ; it was a disgrace which it would take 
 her years to outlive. She discovered suddenly a number of 
 plebeian traits about her guest which she had not noticed 
 before, particularly his stiff, stubbly hair, imperfectly 
 parted on the left side, the barbaric emphasis and direct- 
 ness of his expression, and the redness and clumsy shape 
 of his ears. Then he wore a white satin necktie, which 
 was indicative of questionable antecedents. She cheer- 
 fully left to her daughter the task of entertaining him for 
 the remainder of the dinner, and registered a mental vow 
 to prevent him from crossing her threshold again. 
 
 On Kate Horace's avowal of his plebeian origin made a 
 very different impression. It was difficult to define her 
 sentiment ; but she felt drawn toward him and repelled 
 from him in the same moment. His refusal to be dazzled 
 by the splendor of her surroundings pleased her ; for it 
 was not the callousness of the barbarian he displayed, 
 but the self-respect of the man who is conscious of his 
 strength and who is, in all respects, the reverse of a snob. 
 It was delightful to her to see him hoist his plebeian 
 standard and refuse to strike it before any power in the 
 world. Whatever else he was, she said to herself agair 
 and again, he was emphatically a man. And among hei 
 acquaintances, how many were there to whom that title, 
 in its full meaning, applied ? Suydam, with his millions 
 and his rigid propriety, faded into insignificance beside 
 him, became insipidly blond and priggish. 
 
 She took a bud from the great bank of roses in the mid- 
 dle of the table and pinned it in Horace's button-hole. It 
 was an attention which from anybody else would have 
 meant nothing ; but from one so chary of favors as Kate 
 Van Schaak, it was like the declaration of intentions which 
 precedes naturalization. Horace, who had done his woo- 
 ing so far without the least co-operation on her part, felt 
 a glow of pleasure stealing through him, but took care to 
 give no outward signs of elation. Kate was conscious 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 29 1 
 
 too, of having made a demonstration ; but she had 
 intended to make it, and awkwardness was a sensation 
 with which she was not acquainted. She sat and talked 
 serenely with him of the Larkin University, of the sere- 
 nade the students had given her, of the beauties of spring 
 in Torryville, and there was something in her personality 
 which made the most commonplace remarks in her mouth 
 appear brilliant and impressive. They borrowed some- 
 thing from her rare and exquisite self, and thereby gained 
 a new flavor. 
 
 It was about ten o'clock when the cigars were brought 
 on a tray of beaten copper, upon which stood a winged 
 genius who bit off the ends, and a Pompeian lamp which 
 furnished fire. The ladies retired to the drawing room ; 
 Mrs. Adrian, Jr., making a little grimace to Horace in the 
 door to indicate how she envied him the pleasure of smok- 
 ing. The conversation flagged, and long awkward gaps 
 yawned between each remark. Mr. Suydam finally tried 
 to give Mr. Van Schaak a description of a saddle horse he 
 had recently bought; and Adrian, Jr., insisted that if that 
 beast turned out well, he was no judge of horse-flesh. 
 They got into a tolerably animated dispute, in which 
 Horace did not participate. He was glad when his cigar 
 was finished, which gave him the right again to join the 
 ladies. After five minutes' stiff and colorless talk with the 
 hostess he fell again into the hands of Mrs. Adrian, who said 
 all the most indiscreet things she could think of and gave 
 him a fair insight into her domestic relations. He did noth- 
 ing to encourage this confidence ; but it apparently amused 
 her to satirize her husband's family a trifle, in return for 
 their disapproval of her; and he had no means of checking 
 her. A little before eleven he took his leave, feeling that, 
 in spite of the bad impression he had made upon the old 
 people, he had yet allies within the fortress, and it was only 
 a question of time when it would surrender. 
 
292 THE MAMMON 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 AN UNSENTIMENTAL PROPOSAL. 
 
 If Mr. Van Schaak had not been a little bit afraid of his 
 daughter, he would have taken her severely to task for 
 inviting Horace to dinner. But in spite of his frequent 
 resolutions to haul her over the coals, he never brought it 
 further than to a mild remonstrance. He fumed in the 
 privacy of his own bosom, but in the presence of her dark, 
 placid eyes, which read him like a book, with all his foibles 
 and imperfections, he felt so at a disadvantage that both 
 his courage and his wrath evaporated. 
 
 Father and daughter were seated together in the library 
 the morning after the memorable dinner. The room was 
 surrounded with low book-cases of carved ebony, in which 
 were poetry, histories, and novels in superb editions de luxe, 
 which, if the authors could have seen them, would have 
 compensated them for many privations. The walls were 
 hung with stamped leather in which large conventionalized 
 leaves and flowers in bronze and dark blue tones predom- 
 inated. 
 
 "Don't you think, Kate," said Mr. Van Schaak, looking 
 up over the edge of his newspaper, "that we made a mis- 
 take in dining that Mr. Harkness from Torryville ?" 
 
 " Do you mean Mr. Larkin ?" asked Kate, quietly. 
 
 " Yes, Mr. Larkin. That wild man from the West, who 
 was here yesterday." 
 
 " He is not from the West, father ; nor is he wild. " 
 
 " Bless me, daughter ; I hope you are not taking his 
 part." 
 
 "Yes," said Kate, "I am." 
 
 " And don't you think he appeared what shall I say 
 rather ill bred ? " 
 
 " No. He is not ill bred ; nor is he exactly well bred. 
 He is unbred." 
 
 " Well, call him anything you like ; but he is not what 
 I call a gentleman." 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 
 
 "Perhaps not; but he is something still better ; he is a 
 man." 
 
 " Good gracious, Kate ; I really believe you you like 
 him." 
 
 Mr. Van Schaak let his newspaper fall upon his knees 
 and stared at his daughter's serene countenance with a 
 shocked expression. 
 
 "Yes," said the unperturbed Kate, "I like him very 
 much." 
 
 Mrs. Van Schaak entered at this moment with her nose 
 in the air, a slight morning discontent on her face. 
 
 " Mrs. Van Schaak," cried her lord in helpless despair, 
 " do you hear what your daughter is saying ? She says 
 she wants to marry that wild Westerner who dined here 
 yesterday." He always transferred to his wife the respon- 
 sibility for Kate's existence, when he got vexed with her. 
 
 " I did not say that," remarked Kate, contemplating the 
 toe of her dainty slipper; "moreover, he has not asked 
 me." 
 
 "There, didn't I say it," exclaimed her parent, appeal- 
 ing again to his better half ; " did you hear that, Mrs. Van 
 Schaak ? She says she is only waiting for him to ask her." 
 
 "What is the good of exciting yourself about such 
 absurd things, Adrian ? " asked Mrs. Van Schaak, fretfully ; 
 " now you'll have one of your bad headaches again ; and 
 then we shall all be made uncomfortable." 
 
 The consideration implied in this remark had a sooth- 
 ing effect upon Mr. Van Schaak. He got up, touched his 
 hair and mustache, cast a glance into the mirror, and com- 
 posed his ruffled feathers as a cock does after a fight. He 
 picked up the newspapers and sought solitude in his private 
 apartments. Presently he was heard to order his saddle- 
 horse, and in half an hour descended in the appropriate 
 attire for equestrian exercise. 
 
 This was but the first of a series of skirmishes between 
 Kate and her father. Mr. Van Schaak was much inclined 
 to forbid Horace the house ; but was restrained from 
 resorting to extreme measures by his confidence in his 
 wife, whose superior diplomacy would, no doubt, prove 
 equal to the occasion. In the meanwhile the obnoxious 
 visitor came and went at his pleasure, and Kate received 
 him, and took no steps to discourage his attentions. He 
 returned to Albany, whenever his duties demanded, but 
 made a point of spending every Saturday and Sunday in 
 the city, in Miss Van Schaak's company. When, finally, in 
 

 2Q4 THE MAMMON* 
 
 the early part of June, he made his proposal in due form, 
 Kate was in no way surprised, and she gave him her an- 
 swer in a perfectly cool and rational manner, without the 
 least emotional flutter. They were seated together in the 
 white and gold drawing-room and had been discussing 
 Horace's political prospects, when a sudden fire lighted up 
 his eyes and he said : " I should not have the presumption 
 to ask you to share my life, Miss Van Schaak, if I did not 
 believe that it would be a life worth sharing." 
 
 She liked the originality of that form of proposal, and 
 ; she liked the self-appreciation it betrayed. The total ab- 
 ,' sence of sentimental allusion also appealed to her. 
 
 " Why do you think it worth sharing ?" she asked, in 
 order to draw him out. 
 
 " If you have not the penetration to discover that," he 
 answered with his ringing aggressive tone, " I shall not 
 undertake to tell you." 
 
 She smiled and looked at him with unmistakable ad- 
 miration. 
 
 " Perhaps I have discovered it," she said. 
 
 "And do you agree with me ? " 
 
 " Yes, I do." 
 
 He got up, flushed with pleasure, and seized her hand. 
 He would have liked to fold her in his arms, but there was 
 something in her air and bearing which clearly forbade it. 
 A slight chill stole over him ; for although she had uttered 
 no word, and made no gesture to indicate it, he felt that 
 ' caresses would be excluded from their relation. It would 
 i seem an inconceivable presumption, on his part, or on 
 i| any one's part, to kiss her. He was not physically attrac- 
 ' tive to her, as she was to him. For all that, the sense of 
 I her preciousness, of her rare and exquisite worth, im- 
 i pressed him deeply. Like a pure and fragrant pond-lily, 
 untouched and untouchable, she floated on the placid waters 
 of life, and what she lacked in warmth of color she more 
 than made up for in delicacy of texture and fineness of 
 form. He must take her at her own terms or lose her. 
 There would be no hearts broken in either case ; unless, 
 indeed, he were to develop a heart for the express pur- 
 pose of having it broken. But disappointment there 
 would be, and resentment and baffled aspiration. The 
 man, however, who holds the woman of his choice by such 
 frail bonds, let him avoid risks, and let him postpone all ex- 
 periments until after the wedding. 
 
 Horace was not exactly happy as he descended the 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 295 
 
 stairs of the Van Schaak mansion, after having obtained 
 Kate's promise to marry him. At least he was not as 
 happy as he had expected to be. There was something 
 lacking glaringly lacking ; though he was not sure 
 what it was. He was certainly no sentimentalist who was 
 disturbed because a kiss had been denied him, and because 
 there had been no thrills, no gush, or tender nonsense. 
 And yet it seemed singularly barren and incomplete, this 
 engagement of his ; a little too much like a commercial 
 transaction. The mere feeling of gratified ambition failed 
 to supply the keen delights which he had anticipated. A 
 curious insecurity came over him ; and though he would 
 have been ashamed to admit it, he could not suppress a 
 doubt as to whether he had acted wisely. Had not Kate 
 appeared so supremely desirable to him, chiefly because 
 she seemed to be beyond his reach ? Had not her lofty 
 indifference stung his energies inter activity, and chal- 
 lenged his ambition ? Had he not made up his mind to 
 marry her, chi&fly because the general presumption was 
 that he could not ? He sauntered down Irving Place medi- 
 tating on these questions, without pretending to answer 
 them. The thought of Bella obtruded itself incessantly 
 upon his mind, and a vague tenderness for her meekness 
 and her misfortune awoke within him. Was it remorse 
 he felt or merely an irrational regret at the necessity of 
 being cruel ? That was another idle query, which haunted 
 him with uncomfortable persistence. He straightened 
 himself up, and began to look about him ; the street was 
 deserted on the sunny side ; but on the shady side he ob- 
 served a man who was walking along rapidly, carrying 
 some books under his arm. The figure struck him as be- 
 ing familiar, and a second glance convinced him that it 
 was Aleck. But what a change had come over him ! His 
 coat was devoid of style and his trousers were baggy at 
 the knees. There was a forward bend, as of haste or pre- 
 occupation in his walk, but not a stoop. It was the walk 
 of a man who has an end in view, but takes no pride in his 
 appearance. 
 
 Horace turned about and, crossing the street, followed 
 his brother at a distance. The sight of him aroused a 
 host of memories. How much lonelier and more selfish 
 his life had been since he lost Aleck. And what was 
 their quarrel really about ! A paltry money affair ; and on 
 his own part, besides, a mean calculation. He longed so 
 to speak to Aleck that he was eager to minimize the cause 
 
296 THE MAMMON 
 
 of their disagreement. He hastened his steps, though as 
 yet undecided whether he should yield to his impulse. 
 They had now reached Madison Square, and Aleck, with- 
 out looking right or left, plunged into the glaring sun- 
 shine. 
 
 Horace, fearing that he might lose him in the crowd of 
 children, nursery maids, and loafers that encamp under 
 the stately trees of the square, broke into a run and over- 
 took him. 
 
 "Aleck." he said, laying his hand upon his shoulder. 
 
 Aleck started back and stared in blank bewilderment. 
 
 " Horace ! " he cried, as the perception dawned upon him 
 that it was his brother, and then again, with a joyous out- 
 burst]: 
 
 "Why, Horace, is it you ? " 
 
 " It's yours truly, large as life and twice as natural," 
 replied Horace, taking refuge in his usual banter. 
 
 " And what are you doing here ? " inquired Aleck, 
 beaming upon him with a boyish, undisguised pleasure. 
 
 " Oh, I have something going on here in the petticoat 
 line," said the elder brother in his jovial off-hand way. 
 But he had scarcely uttered the rude phrase before he was 
 ashamed of it. There was a kind of implied mendacity in 
 it. It misrepresented his relation to the woman for whose 
 favor he had so earnestly sued. 
 
 "Ah, a divorce suit," said Aleck ; "well, I have heard 
 that your practice is spreading over the whole State." 
 
 " Oh, yes, it is not bad," Horace rejoined, rather relieved 
 that his brother misunderstood him. 
 
 They walked along at a leisurely pace under the great 
 trees, talking of indifferent things. Horace, who was ach- 
 ing to confide to Aleck his engagement, was unable to find 
 the proper tone for such an important announcement ; and 
 Aleck was haunted with the spectres of a hundred mo- 
 mentous things which he wished to say, but which some- 
 how, he hesitated to utter. It was odd, but these two, 
 who were so fond of each other, and had longed so for this 
 chance to speak freely, talked, under a constraint which 
 neither understood, the most artificial stuff to each other. 
 Aleck was the first to escape from this bondage of plati- 
 tude 
 
 " Horace," he said, stopping in front of his brother and 
 taking hold of his arm, " I want to ask you if you'll come 
 home with me. If you don't want to, just say so, and I 
 shall not be offended. But but I should regard it as a 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 297 
 
 great kindness to to my wife," he finished, blushing 
 with happy embarrassment. 
 
 " Where do you live ? " asked Horace, considering rapidly 
 the various aspects of the problem. Would his uncle ap- 
 prove of his according any sort of recognition to Gertrude, 
 after he had himself disowned her? Was it worth while 
 imperilling his relation to his uncle for the sake of oblig- 
 ing Aleck"? But there was also another side to the ques- 
 tion. He was now a sufficiently important man to afford 
 to consult his own preference. He was absolutely indis- 
 pensable to the Honorable Obed, who would be too shrewd 
 to pick quarrels with him on a slight pretext. He was about 
 to marry the daughter of a millionaire, and his prestige 
 would be immensely increased by the wealth and social 
 position of his bride. He concluded to accept Aleck's in- 
 vitation. The risks were too insignificant to be considered. 
 
 "I live way out of creation," Aleck was saying, while 
 these thoughts flashed through his brother's head. " We 
 shall have to take the Sixth Avenue Elevated. Come 
 along ! " 
 
 " Hold on a minute ! Tell me first, have you got Ger- 
 trude's mother with you?" 
 
 "No, we have done with her long ago." 
 
 "Then I'm your man. I should like to see Gertie ; and 
 besides, I want to have a talk and a confidential smoke 
 with you, as in old times." 
 
 They started across the square and down Twenty-third 
 street toward the elevated railroad, Aleck talking joyously 
 and telling little matrimonial experiences which were cal- 
 culated to show his wife in the most charming light. 
 
 Horace scarcely knew whether it was touching or ludi- 
 crous to hear him thus guilelessly congratulate himself on 
 having drawn the grand prize in the lottery of life, when 
 as a matter of fact he had been a pis aller a last refuge 
 to a woman who by her own folly had gotten herself into 
 an embarrassing situation. What could be more pitiful 
 to a man of Aleck's talents and prospects than to teach 
 school six hours a day at $1,200 a year, live in a stuffy little 
 flat and grow seedy and near-sighted in the mere paltry 
 effort to keep soul and body together ? But then, chacun 
 a son gotit ! To Horace such an existence would be worse 
 than death. 
 
 "You don't know," the deluded enthusiast exclaimed, 
 " you can have no idea how lovely she is to me. I am 
 aware that you never appreciated her as I did ; but then 
 
298 THE MAMMON 
 
 it was your excuse that you never really knew her. In 
 fact I never did either. If I had, I should have murdered 
 Hawk for daring to love her. Fortunately, however, that 
 was a very one-sided affair. She allowed herself to be 
 fascinated by his fine talk ; I can easily forgive her that, 
 for I was myself under the spell of that humbug for a good 
 while. But she has told me that she never really loved 
 him. And that has made me so happy. For, I must con- 
 fess, I was foolish enough to be tormented by a kind of 
 retrospective jealousy, whenever I thought of that plausi- 
 ble rascal. Now, I have none of that ; for I have her own 
 word for it, that she simply deluded herself into thinking 
 that she cared for him. You must not imagine, however," 
 here Aleck broke out into a soft laugh, and his eye shone 
 with- a happy illumination, "you must not suppose that 
 she is all sweetness and light. For in that case she might 
 evaporate in my arms into sheer luminous perfection. No, 
 it is the touch of earth which, after all, I love the best in 
 her. Her sweet little feminine ways, her pouts, her oca- 
 sional rebellions against my authority, her irrational be- 
 havior, her bewildering feminine logic. You know, two 
 weeks ago, she was taken ill in the most unaccountable 
 manner, and the doctor told her she must keep on her 
 back, and not exert herself for about a week. We had 
 been in the habit of going out to take our dinner at a 
 restaurant, and you can't imagine what delightfully jolly 
 little dinners they were ! But now, of course, I had to 
 bring the dinners to her. The first day or two she ate 
 them, though not with much gusto ; but on the third day 
 she rebelled, declared that everything was cold, that if I 
 couldn't bring her a hot dinner, she wouldn't have any 
 dinner at all. She wasn't going to stand this nonsense 
 any longer ; the doctor was an old nightcap who was trying 
 to run up a bill by keeping her on her back, when she 
 was perfectly well, etc. She was going to get up, whether 
 the doctor liked it or not, and she had made up her mind 
 to have a decent hot meal, even if she had to walk a mile 
 for it. Of course I remonstrated, but it was no good. I 
 begged, I implored her to consider her health. But she 
 laughed at me, and told me I was a ridiculous, fussy, busy- 
 body. Up she started and down four flight of stairs ; the 
 elevator was, as usual, out of order. Then in despair, I 
 ran after her, taking four steps at a time, overtook her on 
 the fourth landing, flung my arms about her and carried 
 her bodily back to her bed-room. She made no resistance. 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 299 
 
 She was almost too astonished to speak. Without a word 
 she lay down on the bed, turned her face to the wall, and 
 refused to stir or to answer any of my questions. I offered 
 to send to the Brunswick for a dinner ; and finally, I was 
 reckless enough to suggest Delmonico. I might just as 
 well have talked to the wall. She was and remained dumb. 
 At last without awaiting her consent I rang for a messen- 
 ger, and procured an excellent meal from a restaurant 
 close by. There was quail on toast, filet de bceuf, cream 
 meringue and all the things I knew she liked. But do you 
 suppose she relented ? Not a bit of it. During the entire 
 afternoon she lay like one dead ; and I sat in the parlor, 
 pretending to write, but really watching her anxiously in 
 the mirror. Oh, how miserable I was! I really thought 
 she had made up her mind to starve herself to death. I 
 paced the floor in agony, made the most contrite speeches 
 to her, but all to no purpose. I had about given up the 
 battle and was mentally composing her obituary : 
 
 " 'LARKIN May i2th. Gertrude, beloved wife of Alex- 
 ander Larkin, daughter of the Honorable Obed Larkin, of 
 Torryville, in the twenty-first year of her age. Please omit 
 flowers.' 
 
 "I had just gotten to that point, I say, when, to my unut- 
 terable delight, I saw her rise cautiously, and with a quick 
 movement tear a leg off the quail which was on the table 
 by her bed. I stood speechless, watching her in the mirror. 
 She rose again, and after having made sure that she was 
 unobserved, tore off another leg. The third time, the rest 
 of the quail went the same way. Then the cream meringue 
 vanished. Suddenly, when my anxiety was relieved, the ludi- 
 crous aspect of the thing struck me and I began to chuckle, 
 first softly, then more loudly, until I burst into a ringing 
 laugh. She lost her appetite instantly. But in the same 
 moment I was at her side. She smiled in a shamefaced 
 sort of way, then she hugged me and cried, and called her- 
 self silly and foolish and begged my pardon ; and I am 
 afraid I cried some myself too, and we were absurdly, ir- 
 rationally, extravagantly happy." 
 
 Having got started on this theme Aleck took no note 
 of the stations they passed and would have gone on to 
 Washington Heights if Horace had not asked him at 
 Seventy-second Street, if it was not time to get off. He 
 had begun to pity Aleck from the bottom of his heart, for 
 
300 THE MAMMON 
 
 asking so little of Fate, for consenting to be happy at such 
 a very cheap price, for constructing an illusory paradise for 
 himself out of such poor material. 
 
 They sauntered up one street and down another and came 
 at last to an enormous ten-story caravansery, of red brick 
 with brown stone trimmings. They entered a somewhat 
 squalid vestibule, with tesselated floor and exhibiting a 
 multitude of brass bell handles, under each of which there 
 was a rectangular opening containing a card. That was 
 the Patagonia. 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 3<3I 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 "THE PATAGONIA." 
 
 Aleck tried to be gay and debonair as he opened the door 
 from the dark hall into the room which he was pleased to 
 call his study. But he could not disguise his excitement 
 from his astute brother. He laughed boisterously at things 
 which were not ludicrous, knocked the furniture about in 
 his effort to find a comfortable chair for his guest, and 
 skipped from one subject of conversation to another with 
 bewildering vivacity. 
 
 " I hope you'll excuse the looks of things, Horace," he 
 said ; " for you know we are not yet quite settled. We don't 
 like to buy the things we need all at once ; things that 
 we have to live with we prefer to get one by one. And I 
 tell you, we get no end of fun out of our furniture expedi- 
 tions. Gertie, you know, has about as much idea of money 
 as the man in the moon. I have had an awful lot of trouble 
 in teaching her to count her change when she goes shop- 
 ping. ' Why, you certainly don't want me to insult the clerk 
 to his very face,' she exclaimed, the first time I spoke to 
 her about it, and she swept the change she got from a ten- 
 dollar bill into her purse with a royal recklessness." 
 
 It was perhaps pardonable in Aleck that he found the 
 peculiarities of his wife absorbingly interesting, and im- 
 agined that they could not fail to appear equally delightful 
 to his brother. But Horace, to whom the poetry of a man's 
 relation to the woman he loves was as a sealed book, could 
 not repress the reflection that Aleck had degenerated sadly. 
 He was making a complete fool of himself over this woman ; 
 and as he had now chosen to go his own way, there would 
 be no use in trying to open his eyes. The room in which 
 they were sitting was about six feet by eight, and con- 
 tained two tall book-cases made of stained pine boards, a 
 lounge covered with green rep, a cherry writing desk 
 and two cane-seated chairs. Over the desk hung crayon 
 portraits of Aleck and his wife, the former with a curious 
 twist to his mouth, the latter with an eye which threatened 
 
3O2 THE MAMMON 
 
 to drop out. The cipher of the artist, G. L., in n boldly 
 ornamental style, was visible in the right hand corner. 
 The happy possessor of these works of art could not conceal 
 his pride in them, but had to call his brother's attention to 
 their excellence. He then excused himself, and in making 
 his way to the door stumbled over Horace's long legs, which 
 stretched across the whole unoccupied area of the floor. 
 A moment later there were unmistakable sounds of a sub- 
 dued dispute in the next room, and the inference lay ne;ir 
 that the lady of the house was not anxious to renew her 
 acquaintance with her brother-in-law. The brother-in- 
 law in question smiled, and on the whole sympathized with 
 her reluctance. Aleck's entreaties seemed, however, in the 
 end to prevail ; for he returned presently in a radiant 
 humor, and announced to Horace that his wife had con- 
 sented to see him. If it had been the Queen of Great 
 Britain and Ireland who had signified her willingness to 
 receive him, the tone of the announcement could not have 
 been more impressive. He flung open the door to the 
 parlor, much as a royal lackey does who shows you into 
 the presence of the sovereign. 
 
 Horace made his bow to Gertrude, who met him in the 
 middle of the room. His first thought was that she was 
 really handsome (a fact which he had never discovered be- 
 fore), and her first sensation was one of relief that he did 
 not kiss her. For she had dreaded that, out of regard for 
 Aleck, he might have found it incumbent upon him to be 
 affectionate. 
 
 " I am very glad to see you, Horace," she said, simply. 
 
 " And I to see you, Gertie," he answered with the same 
 degree of veracity. " You have grown so handsome that I 
 should scarcely have known you." 
 
 Aleck, who was standing by, beaming upon his wife with 
 a half paternal, half lover-like pride, here burst out vigo- 
 rously : " Now, there you see ! Isn't it the very thing I 
 have been saying to you, that you are growing more beau- 
 tiful every day ? And you have insisted that I was flatter- 
 ing or making fun of you." 
 
 " Now, don't be such a jack, Aleck ! " was the prompt re- 
 sponse ; " or Horace will think you have lost what little sense 
 you ever had since getting married. And then he will hold 
 me responsible for your absurdity." 
 
 She flushed with a vague embarrassment and seated her- 
 self on a chair in front of her easel. The conversation 
 moved somewhat cumbrously from one indifferent topic to 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 303 
 
 another, and Horace had time to take an inventory of the 
 room. It was an unconventional parlor, to say the least. 
 It contained very little furniture, and that of odd shapes 
 and sizes. There were a sofa and three or four chairs, not 
 with the usual shop look, but handsome, solid, and of pleas- 
 ing forms. They had obviously been carefully selected, one 
 by one, in down-town shops where handsome things have 
 not yet reached prohibitory prices. The floor was covered 
 with a rug of good colors, and the walls with a multitude 
 of unframed charcoal drawings, whose chief function was 
 to conceal the glaring blue and yellow wall paper. A large 
 home-made screen, decorated with bulrushes and flying 
 cranes, also in charcoal, hid the ugly fireplace and mantel, 
 and striking bits of drapery were effectively arranged about 
 the doors, the mirror, and wherever there was anything ob- 
 jectionable to put out of sight. 
 
 " I suppose, Gertie," said Horace, in order to make talk, 
 "that here in New York you have a fine chance to prose- 
 cute your art studies ? " 
 
 It is hard to tell why the suspicion awoke in her that 
 he was making sport of her. She could not presuppose 
 any benevolent interest in herself or her work in this cold 
 and quizzical brother-in-law, who had always disapproved 
 of her, and frequently given her the benefit of his harsh 
 criticism. 
 
 " The best thing that could be done with my artistic 
 aspirations would be to smother them," she answered, 
 gravely ; " if you could help me to do that, I think I 
 should be grateful to you." 
 
 " How can you speak that way, Gertie," ejaculated 
 Aleck, with ardor. " I should be grieved if your marriage 
 were to interfere with the development of your artistic 
 talent. When we are better off than we are now, I intend 
 to have you take lessons of the best artists in the city, and 
 I shall be astonished if they don't agree with me in my 
 estimate of your genius." 
 
 " Then I fear you are destined to be very much aston- 
 ished, dear," she answered, sending him a pleased glance, 
 full of shy gratitude and tenderness. 
 
 " She is right, Aleck, she is right," interposed the 
 ungallant Horace ; " not that I mean to pronounce upon 
 her artistic merits. But to a married woman a talent 
 of that sort, if it is genuine, is a source of more misery 
 than happiness. I am not speaking of a mere amateurish 
 facility in drawing ; for that might prove an amusement 
 
3O4 THE MAMMON 
 
 and a pastime. But genius will not put up with a divided 
 allegiance. It demands the whole man or the whole 
 woman, and it avenges itself, if you try to put it off with a 
 compromise." 
 
 Aleck stood his ground bravely against the united 
 charge of his brother and his wife, declaring at last 
 sublimely that he would rather sacrifice his own life to 
 Gertrude, than have her sacrifice her life to him. 
 
 "Aleck, my boy, you are the same old sixpence," cried 
 Horace, laughing ; " but permit me to say," he continued, 
 more solemnly, " that nobody has a right to sacrifice him- 
 self to anybody else. If he does he simply eliminates 
 v himself from the struggle for existence, proves his unfit- 
 ness to survive. It is natural for every strong man to try 
 to make every other life tributary to his own ; but the 
 man who consents to make his life tributary to somebody 
 else's is from Nature's point of view a weak man ; or what 
 amounts to the same, a Quixotic enthusiast whom she will 
 refuse to perpetuate, because, in the present state of her 
 affairs, she has no conspicuous use for him. She may 
 allow him to exist in a small way ; but what is existence 
 without predominance?" 
 
 " Oh, Horace, you deluded sage," Aleck exclaimed, 
 dramatically, " do you actually mean to assert that Nature 
 has no use for the man who is more generous than the 
 average of his kind ?" 
 
 " Nature respects nothing but strength, physical and 
 
 intellectual," Horace replied. " The man who is in 
 
 advance of the morality of his age is, for practical pur- 
 
 / poses, a fool. It is no use quarreling with Fate ; and in 
 
 | the United States the average man is the Fate that rules 
 
 us and determines our place in the world." 
 
 They were now launched on one of their old-time dis- 
 putes, and for a full hour they fought hot logical battles, 
 each sticking tenaciously to his side of the question. Ger- 
 trude, though she was aglow with partisanship for her 
 husband, and occasionally was tempted to speak, was 
 restrained by a certain awe of the formidable Horace. 
 Though his attitude toward her was changed, she yet felt 
 the after-effect of his contemptuous superciliousness, so 
 freely expressed in the past. She was on needles and 
 pins whenever Aleck seemed on the point of weakening, and 
 was eager to come to his rescue. When it became obvi- 
 ous to her that he was getting worsted, all her old ani- 
 mosity against Horace flared up, and she would have 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 305 
 
 liked to tell him how odious he was. Aleck, however, 
 took his defeat in good part, declaring laughingly that it 
 was all in the family, and that he did not pretend to be a 
 match for so keen a logician as his brother. It then 
 occurred to him that he had forgotten to offer Horace a 
 cigar, and he made haste to remedy his neglect. Gertrude 
 marvelled at his goodnature, and was stung by a sneaking 
 little doubt, whether it might not possibly be true that 
 such amiability did argue weakness and was a disqualifi- 
 cation for success. And she hungered for success with all 
 her heart, chiefly for the purpose of bringing Horace to his 
 knees by furnishing a practical refutation of his argument. 
 
 " I suppose," observed the unconscious object of her 
 wrath, with an insinuating air, " that Gertie is not yet 
 inured to smoke. How would it do if we retired to the 
 study, where we shall not annoy her ?" 
 
 She was clever enough to understand that this was a 
 ruse to get rid of her, and she therefore made no objec- 
 tion. Only the unsophisticated Aleck failed to discover 
 any such intention ; because he could not imagine how 
 a man could be constituted who would by preference 
 dispense with Gertrude's society. He accepted, however, 
 his brother's suggestion ; but came near embracing his 
 wife when, with a heroic disregard of her own wishes, she 
 invited Horace to stay to dinner. A practised eye might, 
 however, have detected a shade of relief in her wide-open 
 blue eyes when the invitation was declined. 
 
 Horace expanded with a sense of ease and unrestraint 
 when he found himself alone in his brother's company. 
 
 " Aleck," he said, taking some slow critical whiffs of his 
 cigar to test its quality, "I have got something to tell you, 
 and I shall dispense with all preliminaries. My dear boy, I 
 am going to be married." 
 
 " I am delighted to hear that," Aleck burst out with en- 
 thusiasm ; " she has been so mortally ill, and I knew you 
 couldn't afford to have the wrecking of that poor girl's 
 life on your conscience 
 
 He became aware suddenly that his brother's face had 
 undergone an ominous change. There was a hard black 
 look about his eyes which he knew too well from of old. 
 He stared at him with a gaze of terrified questioning. 
 
 " I don't know what you are talking about," cried 
 Horace, rising and staring out of the window. 
 
 " Why whom if I may ask are you going to marry ? " 
 stammered Aleck, in painful confusion. 
 20 
 
306 THE MAMMON 
 
 It was a good while before Horace recovered his equa- 
 nimity. " Because you choose to throw away your life," 
 he said, harshly, sending Aleck a fierce glance over his 
 shoulder, " is that any reason why I should go and throw 
 away mine ?" 
 
 " No," Aleck was on the point of answering ; "you pre- 
 fer to throw away the lives of others. A man has a right 
 to experiment with his own life, but he has no right to 
 experiment with the lives of his fellow-men." 
 
 He knew, however, that if he gave utterance to this 
 thought, there would be an end to his pleasant relations 
 with his brother. And he valued him too much to sacri- 
 fice him to an epigram. The suspicion rankled in him 
 that it was his marriage which appeared to Horace as an 
 evidence of failure and a consignment of his life to hope- 
 less mediocrity ; but even that he chose to forgive, if for- 
 giveness for his own blunder was yet obtainable. 
 
 " You know, Horace," he began in a tone of conciliation, 
 "that I am a thoughtless fellow, and that my feelings 
 often run away with me. If I have offended you I am 
 heartily sorry for it." 
 
 " It is d d easy to feel sorry ; but you are the most 
 
 left-handed chap I ever did know." 
 
 " Well, perhaps I am, but I am too old to mend my ways, 
 so I fear you'll have to put up with them." 
 
 " I don't know about that. Anyway it takes time for me 
 to get into a forgiving mood. You have spoiled my desire 
 to be confidential. Good-by." 
 
 " But you are not going without telling me who the lady 
 is whom you are going to marry ? " 
 
 "I'll tell you some other time, I can't to-day." 
 
 He had seized his hat and cane, and Aleck mournfully 
 opened the door for him and rang for the elevator. They 
 shook hands at parting, the one listlessly, the other warmly, 
 repentantly. 
 
 It was not the first time that the righteous has had to 
 apologize for his righteousness, and that the unrighteous 
 has exacted an apology for a criticism upon his unrighte- 
 ousness. 
 
 The next day Aleck received a letter, written at the 
 Union League Club, informing him that the lady who was 
 destined to become his sister-in-law, was Kate Van Schaak! 
 If the roof of the heavens had tumbled down about his 
 ears he could not have been more astonished. 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 307 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 PRELIMINARY ARRANGEMENTS. 
 
 Kate Van Schaak conducted her campaign on the Fabian 
 plan. She refused to deliver engagements, but she ad- 
 hered calmly and resolutely to her purpose, announced it 
 now and then with neat and distinct emphasis, and al- 
 lowed daily gusts of ill-temper to sweep over her with 
 admirable equanimity. She listened to the severest re- 
 proaches without growing angry ; she made judicious 
 admissions when, as sometimes happened, the criticisms 
 on her /0;z<:/ came within the line of truth ; and gradually 
 accustomed her parents to the inevitable by permitting 
 them to exhaust their patience in futile resistance. 
 
 The four summer months were spent, as usual, at New- 
 port, where the Van Schaaks had a charming villa. Horace, 
 who had looked forward with much pleasure to spending 
 part of his vacation in the old town by the sea, had his 
 ardor considerably cooled when Kate requested him not 
 to approach her until her return to the city in the autumn. 
 If it had been anybody but Kate who had made such a prop- 
 osition to him he would have suspected intrigues and 
 flirtations, in which he was not to interfere, but Kate, with 
 her clear brown eyes and placid brow, was so far above 
 these things that they seemed unworthy of consideration. 
 Another suspicion, however, suggested itself, and was not 
 so easily dismissed was she, perhaps, a little ashamed of 
 him, and preferred not to have him near her until she had 
 won the right to amend his appearance in accordance 
 with her own taste ? If such was the case, Horace had a 
 good mind to descend upon her unannounced in order to 
 test the quality of her regard for him. But in contemplat- 
 ing this plan he gradually acquired a realizing sense of her 
 formidableness. She was not a person to be trifled with ; 
 and it would be extremely unsafe to subject her to un- 
 pleasant surprises. 
 
 So it came to pass that Horace spent the greater part 
 of the summer drearily at Torryville. He communicated 
 
308 THE MAMMOtf 
 
 his intention to marry Miss Van Schaak to his uncle, and 
 was a trifle disappointed at the manner in which the old 
 man received the announcement. 
 
 "Well, you've had your own way pretty much in every- 
 thing," he said, pursing up his lips thoughtfully ; " but 
 mark my word, she ain't the kind of girl that it'll be easy 
 to pull tergether with." 
 
 "I don't see what you mean, uncle," exclaimed his 
 nephew. 
 
 " I didn't reckon you would," said Mr. Larkin, with his 
 shrewd smile, "but you will, by and by." 
 
 " I wish you would tell me now." 
 
 " Well, she ain't broken in, neither for saddle nor har- 
 ness," observed the old man, persevering in his equine 
 simile. 
 
 " But you don't want to break girls, uncle, as you would 
 a horse." 
 
 "Don't you, though ? Well, all I've got to say, is this ; 
 if you don't, you'll be sorry for it by and by. You'll want 
 to try it when it is too late. And then the jig is up. Good 
 by, John ! It ain't nice to be your own counsel in a 
 divorce suit." 
 
 "But, uncle, fooling aside, I wish you would tell me 
 what you have got against Kate Van Schaak." 
 
 " Bless you, I haven't got anything against her. She only 
 looks to me rather hifalutin. And I ain't no judge of 
 women if she ain't sorter hard-bitted, hard in the mouth ; 
 good on the trot when you get her started, but mighty hard 
 to start." 
 
 Although he was far from being a sentimentalist, Hor- 
 ace did not relish hearing such disrespectful terms applied 
 to the woman upon whom he was about to confer his name. 
 If it had been anyone but his uncle who had spoken thus, 
 he would have given vent to his resentment in unmistak- 
 able language. But that is the disadvantage of being a 
 beneficiary, you cannot enjoy the luxury of unrestrained 
 sincerity. 
 
 Among all the trials of the long and hot summer, which 
 Horace had in part anticipated, there was one which was 
 happily absent. The Reverend Mr. Robbins had, in con- 
 sequence of the recent severe illness of his daughter, taken 
 a vacation, and had migrated with his entire tribe into the 
 Adirondack wilderness. It was said that Bella's lungs 
 were affected, and that she had already had several hem- 
 orrhages. Others declared that she was suffering from 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 309 
 
 nervous prostration and hysteria. But whatever it was, 
 Horace was relieved of the unpleasant necessity of meet- 
 ing Mr. Robbins and his Rodents in the post-office and in 
 the street, as he otherwise inevitably would have done ; 
 and for this he was duly grateful. 
 
 He had, moreover, a source of consolation which, to 
 gentlemen in his position is sanative of many ills to which 
 lovers are heirs. He received weekly letters from Kate, 
 which arrived with a beautiful regularity and precision. 
 They were not in the least effusive ; but they were neatly 
 and well written, containing sage but conservative com- 
 ments upon the society about her, accounts of balls, 
 sailing parties, and routs, and occasional allusions to their 
 approaching wedding. Barring the latter, there was noth- 
 ing, either in the matter or manner of them, which was not 
 fit for publication. What Horace missed in them (and 
 sometimes missed acutely), was the personal note, the note 
 of confidence, trust, and devotion. He did not know from 
 experience what was the proper tone of a so-called love- 
 letter ; but he had been led to suppose that it was some- 
 thing quite different from the tone of mere sensible and 
 friendly companionship which characterized the epistles 
 of which he was the recipient. It appeared to him, though 
 his demands as regards sentiment were extremely moder- 
 ate, that they had both gotten a false start ; for the essays 
 on contemporary history which Kate forwarded to him 
 every Saturday, somehow forced hi into respond with phil- 
 osophical disquisitions and treatises on sociology. I am 
 bound to say that some of these were quite brilliant, and 
 well worthy of a place in one of the leading magazines. 
 He was aware that he held his place in her esteem by dint 
 of his intellect, and did not neglect, therefore, to display 
 the strength of this intellect, whenever the occasion pre- 
 sented itself. He could not pretend that he liked this 
 necessity, or that it satisfied his idea of the fitness of 
 things, but he saw no way of remedying it, and therefore 
 acquiesced. 
 
 Politics had been in a state of stagnation during the 
 early part of the summer. But about the middle of 
 August the Hon. Reuben Studebaker, who had represented 
 the county in the State Senate for a quarter of a century, 
 died of Bright's disease, leaving his senatorial shoes the ob- 
 ject of a spirited competition. The Hon. Reuben had not 
 been a resident of Torryville, but it was claimed by Mr. 
 Dallas and his colleagues that by a kind of traditional rule 
 
3lO THE 
 
 of rotation, the succession belonged by right to his town- 
 ship, of which Torryville was the centre and chief ornament. 
 Mr. Studebaker, it was freely asserted, had not been a model 
 law-maker, having been concerned in every corrupt job 
 which had passed the legislature since he first made his 
 entrance into politics. But he had managed to keep him- 
 self in favor with his constituents by procuring for their 
 locality a branch of the insane asylum, canal improve- 
 ments, and other legislature favors, and for conspicuous 
 citizens of his town profitable jobs of all sorts at the public 
 expense. He had posed as the champion of rural simplic- 
 ity and virtue against the extravagance and vice of New 
 York City, and he secured additional prestige by taking 
 the lead in every raid upon the treasury of the wicked 
 metropolis. It was, of course, difficult to find a man 
 worthy and competent to succeed so useful a representa- 
 tive, and the press and public opinion wavered long before 
 arriving at a conclusion. Then with a marvellous unan- 
 imity the Republican papers made the discovery that the 
 Hon. Horace Larkin was the man designated by talent, 
 character, and conspicuous public service to fill the place 
 of the late lamented senator. The Democratic journals 
 vainly charged bribery and corruption, and called atten- 
 tion to the fact that the Hon. Obed had " pulls " on the 
 Republican editors, and owned stock in their papers. 
 However that may have been Horace loomed up as the 
 man of destiny, was nominated by the convention, and in 
 due time elected. 
 
 But before this auspicious event was consummated 
 another enterprise, hardly less important, demanded the 
 attention of the candidate. It had been his plan originally 
 to hire a house on the hill belonging to his uncle and fit it 
 out properly for the reception of his bride. But when he 
 remembered the unattainable splendor of her present sur- 
 roundings, his courage began to fail him. He could not 
 afford to appear mean before her. Cherry or black wal- 
 nut cabinet finish, Morris wall papers, and Axminster car- 
 pets, which had hitherto represented to his mind the acme 
 of magnificence, had, since his dinner in Gramercy Park, 
 grown insupportably commonplace ; it expressed a futile 
 aspiration to rise above respectable shabbiness. If he had 
 caught the bird Phenix, he was in honor bound to furnish 
 a fitting cage. After having duly pondered the ways and 
 means, he broached the matter to his uncle, and asked his 
 advice. They had a long and earnest discussion, which only 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 311 
 
 the profound respect they entertained for each other pre- 
 vented from being a stormy one. Old Mr. Larkin disap- 
 proved strongly of Horace's intention to build a fine 
 house, on a lot he owned half way up the hill ; but ended 
 with offering him a loan of $25,000. And so an architect 
 was instantly engaged, plans were submitted, and before 
 the end of July the ground was broken and the foundation 
 laid. Half a dozen designs, all of an ambitious style, were 
 submitted to Kate, and she promptly indicated her prefer- 
 ence. But the cool way in which she referred to this en- 
 terprise, which to him was an affair of the most vital impor- 
 tance, disappointed and offended him. Had he not for her 
 sake withdrawn his capital from good investments, and put 
 three-fourths of it into a house which was planned to suit 
 her taste, not his ? Had he not incurred the risk of los- 
 ing his uncle's good will by proposing a scale of living 
 which to the frugal millionaire seemed simply preposter- 
 ous ? And to these sacrifices she responded with the so- 
 ber suggestion that she required very deep closets in her 
 private rooms and a marble bath so arranged that she 
 could step down into it, and should not have to climb into 
 it. There were a multitude of other specifications as to 
 light, ventilation, and plumbing, but not one word of grat- 
 itude or affection. She was honest, at least, Horace 
 thought bitterly; and she was charmingly consistent. He 
 had exalted the prose of life and scouted its poetry ; and 
 life had taken him at his word. For this was prose with a 
 vengeance. 
 
312 THE MAMMON 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 WHICH IS THE TRIBUTARY ? 
 
 The wedding of the Hon. Horace Larkin to Miss Kate 
 Van Schaak was celebrated with due pomp and magnifi- 
 cence at the beginning of the winter. All fashionable 
 New York was there ; and some beside who rarely venture 
 forth into the glare of the modern day. Decrepit old 
 Knickerbockers, who seem but an expiring tradition in 
 the city which they founded, came forth from their ancient 
 haunts in Stuyvesant Square and hobbled up the stately 
 breadth of Second Avenue, from below Fourteenth Street. 
 Some wore frilled shirt-fronts and embroidered wrist-bands, 
 and they shook their heads, either from decrepitude or 
 disapproval ; for this wedding was to them another evi- 
 dence that the world was sadly out of gear. The Hon. 
 Obed Larkin and Mrs. Larkin were also present, the for- 
 mer sober and quiet, the latter exhilarated and excited ; in 
 fact, the old gentleman had all he could do in keeping his 
 wife from making a jack of herself. He wore during the 
 entire ceremony a dubious air, took his departure (in spite 
 of Mrs. Larkin's protests) by an early train, and remarked 
 repeatedly to his unresponsive spouse that this world was 
 a mighty queer place. He could not understand how a 
 level-headed man like Horace could have made so fatal a 
 mistake as this marriage appeared to him to be ; and the 
 more he thought of it, the less he understood it. The ten 
 or twenty millions which Mr. Van Schaak was reputed to 
 be worth did not furnish an adequate explanation. He had 
 refrained from making Horace rich, chiefly to save him 
 from the perils which he had now deliberately incurred. 
 He was so deeply and bitterly disappointed that he scarcely 
 cared to disguise his feelings. All those upon whom he 
 had pinned his faith seemed bound to make a botch of 
 their lives in spite of his precepts. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Horace Larkin took the train for Albany a 
 little after midnight. Kate did not quite relish this flavor of 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 313 
 
 state politics about their wedding journey, but she recog- 
 nized the necessity and submitted to it. Dreading hotel life, 
 they had taken a handsomely furnished house for the win- 
 ter, the rent of which exceeded Horace's senatorial salary 
 multiplied by two. But that, too, was a necessity against 
 which it was futile to rebel. It was a charming old-fash- 
 ioned house, with a kind of solid Knickerbocker dignity, 
 and a warm air of having been lived and died in by succes- 
 sive generations. Horace hoped that Kate, who had an 
 eye for character, would take to it kindly, and attribute to 
 her husband's civilized taste what was really a lucky acci- 
 dent. He would have been quite as capable of being en- 
 trapped by a medley of garish splendor, fit to make a 
 sensitive woman tear her hair. In fact, he entered his 
 new domicile with fear and trembling, lest it should de- 
 velop in the eyes of his wife some atrocious feature which 
 he had failed to discover. It was a novel sensation for 
 him to feel this nervous deference for the opinion of an- 
 other, and a corresponding doubt as to his own compe- 
 tency of judgment. And one little incident which occurred 
 immediately after their arrival was not calculated to allay 
 his apprehension. He had stepped forward in a flutter 
 (which he had never before experienced) to assist her in 
 removing her wraps. She was wonderful to behold, in a 
 gorgeous velvet cloak, cut to her figure, and richly lined 
 with blue fox. As she lifted her veil, and revealed her 
 pure, placid face, flushed with the cold, he was conscious 
 of a thrill and a dim stirring of something within him 
 which must have been tenderness. For she was his, this 
 ominously beautiful and formidable piece of womanhood, 
 this complex and superior creature for whom so many had 
 sued in vain. As she stood there before him with her in- 
 telligent dark eyes fixed upon him, and that vague disdain 
 which was habitual with her in the curve of her lips, he 
 became conscious of the tremendous compliment she had 
 paid him in entrusting her precious self to him. He could 
 afford to overlook minor points in the presence of this 
 overwhelming fact. It was as if a new warm fountain 
 sprung forth in his breast, and began to flow with a gentle 
 murmur. For no man who is not a brute can contemplate 
 that touching phenomenon, which was dawning upon 
 Horace's consciousness, without the awaking of whatever 
 chivalry there may be in him. And full of this sentiment 
 he was stepping forward to offer his services, for the first 
 time in his life, as valet de chambre. She had herself un- 
 
314 THE MAMMON' 
 
 hooked the intricately wrought silver clasp under the chin 
 and pulled out a dagger-like needle which she seemed to 
 pass through her cranium without the least inconvenience, 
 and he had cautiously taken hold of the cloak and was 
 making an effort to remove it. But by ill luck, one of his 
 sleeve buttons caught in her hair, and as, unaware of this 
 complication, he gave his pull, she turned upon him a 
 pair of eyes full of calm severity, and said : 
 
 " Oh, what a clumsy baboon you are ! " 
 
 If she had spoken in momentary anger, provoked by the 
 pain, he would have readily forgiven her. But she was 
 not angry ; it was rather a deliberate rebuke, and its 
 chilling severity stabbed him like cold steel. He felt 
 hurt ; so hurt that he thought he could never get over it. 
 What would his life be in the company of a woman who 
 on the morning after her wedding could address him thus ? 
 He was in the habit of looking facts in the face, and this 
 one seemed too alarming to be lightly dismissed. The 
 circumstance, too, that she took everything for granted, 
 without the least recognition of the forethought he had 
 displayed in securing her comfort, was somewhat disquiet- 
 ing. There were servants in the house ; and for aught he 
 could learn, she supposed houses were built with servants 
 in them. He had telegraphed ahead for a hot breakfast, 
 but soon found the muffins lead, and the chops uneatable. 
 She made no ado whatever, but she tasted the dishes with 
 a critical air, and put them quietly aside. As he sat and 
 looked at her across the table in amazed silence, he grew 
 so angry that he had to clench his teeth to keep from 
 blurting out some offensive phrase. He was fully aware 
 that it would not do to yield to any rash impulse, for the 
 relations he established with his wife now would have an 
 important bearing upon his whole life's happiness. Her 
 palate, he reasoned, had been educated up to a point far be- 
 yond his comprehension ; and he ought scarcely to object 
 to that high development of the senses which made her the 
 rare and complex being that she was. 
 
 "You don't seem to eat anything," he said with forced 
 composure. 
 
 " I am not very hungry," she answered, picking daintily 
 at a piece of bass, which had been a trifle scorched in 
 the broiling. 
 
 " I fear you are over-tired." 
 
 She made no reply for a while, but looked at her plate 
 half absently, then pushed it away. 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 315 
 
 " How long do you think you'll have to stay in this 
 dreadful place?" she asked. 
 
 "What dreadful place?" 
 
 "Albany." 
 
 " Until the end of the session." 
 
 " And when will it end ? " 
 
 "Probably about the middle of May or the first of 
 June." 
 
 " I am not going to stay here as long as that." 
 
 He thought it prudent not to challenge her by a spirit 
 of opposition, and therefore avoided taking issue with 
 her. 
 
 " Why do you object to the town ? " he inquired, be- 
 tween two sips of coffee. 
 
 " It is so unfinished, so unkempt. It has such a horrid, 
 ragged, American look." 
 
 " American ? Do you dislike it because it looks Ameri- 
 
 can 
 
 "Yes, you know what I mean. That hideous glaring 
 newness and bareness and barrenness you see that no- 
 where but in our country. I cannot imagine anything 
 more offensive to all the five senses combined than the 
 main street of an aspiring American village." 
 
 " But you know it is after all American ; and on that 
 account, it seems to me, we have got to improve it or put 
 up with it." 
 
 " No, there you are wrong. And let me just tell you 
 here, what my plan is. I want you to get an appointment 
 as minister to some European court. It is only with that 
 in view that I could tolerate this odious place for a little 
 while. With my fortune we could live en prince in Paris 
 or London or St. Petersburg, and your political distinc- 
 tion would count for much more there than it ever will 
 here. Life is more commodiously and agreeably arranged 
 for people of fortune there than it is here, and as long as 
 we have but one life to live I have no intention, from 
 patriotic motives, to make it less enjoyable than it ought 
 to be." 
 
 A curious idea began to dawn upon Horace's mind ; but 
 he brushed it away as unworthy of consideration. It re- 
 turned, however, and refused to be dismissed. This neat 
 and perfectly finished plan, complete in all its details, was 
 no inspiration of the moment. It was a long-cherished, 
 well-matured purpose, the realization of which she had de- 
 liberately set about, Was it not possible, nay probable, 
 
3l6 THE MAMMON 
 
 that she had married him simply on account of her faith 
 in his ability to carry out this scheme ? He did not delude 
 himself with the thought that she loved him. But that 
 he, with his determination to make her life tributary to 
 his, had himself been appropriated with exactly the same 
 purpose on her part, that seemed like a colossal joke- 
 one of those jokes that seem funny to all except the one 
 at whose expense it is perpetrated. He remembered dis- 
 tinctly the expression of her face at Mr. Robbins's dinner, 
 when he told her that he regarded no achievement in the 
 line of his ambition as being beyond his power ; and it 
 would not surprise him if he were to discover that she 
 concluded, at that moment, that he was the man to carry 
 out her ambition. 
 
 " May I ask you," he said, fixing his eyes upon her with 
 a gravely questioning look, "when that plan first occurred 
 to you ? " 
 
 " Oh, it was long ago," she answered, carelessly. " When I 
 was in the convent in Paris, I made the acquaintance of 
 the Princess de Meran, who was exactly my age. We 
 became great friends, and she once took me home with her 
 to her father's chateau in Picardy. I saw with my own 
 eyes how those people lived, and I made up my mind 
 that it was a beautiful and dignified and enjoyable life. 
 Being an American I could not have that life, but I re- 
 solved to choose the next thing to it that was attainable to 
 one of my nationality. You might say that I could have 
 chosen to marry a French or German noble, and at one 
 time I thought of that. But their ideas of women and 
 their treatment of them are revolting to me, and I con- 
 cluded that with my American education, I should buy 
 position too dearly at such a price." 
 
 11 And then you concluded to marry me, because among 
 the men you had met, I seemed most likely to be able to 
 carry out your scheme for you ?" 
 
 " I married you because I had respect for your intellect." 
 
 "Doesn't that amount to the same thing?" 
 
 "Perhaps." 
 
 "And do you not think it is a little bit imprudent on 
 your part to show me your hand so early in the game ?" 
 
 "If you are to accomplish a thing, you have got to know 
 what it is, and keep it in mind from the beginning." 
 
 Horace smiled sardonically. He began to doubt whether 
 he was really awake. There sat his young wife opposite 
 to him, and told him, as it appeared to him, with the most 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 3 1/ 
 
 refreshing insolence, that she had planned his life for him, 
 and that all he had now got to do was to bend his energies 
 toward the accomplishment of her plans. Was it a creature 
 of the sex usually referred to as the gentler, who was mak- 
 ing him this astounding proposition ? She had the faculty 
 of clear thought and definite statement in an enviable de- 
 gree. There was no mistaking her purposes. She had 
 ruled her father's house, including the father himself; she 
 had never been crossed in any of her desires. What, then, 
 could be more natural than her expectation to continue in 
 this imperial role and take charge of her husband's des- 
 tinies as she had of those of her parents. He must, of 
 course, in some way, hint to her that he meant to share 
 with her the reins of government ; but it would have to 
 be done gently, for he was resolved, if possible, to avoid a 
 collision. 
 
 " Has it occurred to you," he inquired, quietly, "that I 
 may have something to say about all this ? " 
 
 "Yes," she answered, lifting her dark eyes with a look 
 of grave observation; "but I sincerely hope you will not 
 disagree with me." 
 
 " I will promise not to disagree with you to-day," was 
 his reply, as he brusquely rose from the table. " I intend, 
 if possible, to exclude disagreements from our honey- 
 moon." 
 
 He noted a subdued excitement in her manner, or the 
 nearest approach to excitement, which he had ever wit- 
 nessed in her. Yet she rose with the greatest deliberation 
 from the table, as if to rebuke him for his haste. In fact, 
 in the suspicious frame of mind in which he found himself, 
 everything she did or said became a more or less cloaked 
 demonstration of antagonism. He could not reconcile 
 himself to the thought that he was responsible to her for 
 his actions ; yet she seemed to take such responsibility for 
 granted. Diplomat! The idea of his becoming a diplomat, 
 and dancing attendance upon foreign dignitaries he who 
 loathed the pomp and circumstance of courts, and despised 
 from the bottom of his heart the gilded idleness which in 
 the effete monarchies was a title to respect ! No, thank 
 God, he was an American to his backbone, and meant to 
 assert himself here at home and rise as high here as his 
 opportunities and his ability warranted. Was it, after all, 
 wise to have introduced into his life a new and wholly incal- 
 culable force, which might set itself to work to frustrate his 
 ambition instead of furthering it ? He had never before 
 
3l8 THE MAMMON 
 
 contemplated this possibility, because it seemed, only yes- 
 terday, so absurdly remote. But to-day it was a tangible 
 something which had to be reckoned with. 
 
 "Mrs. Larkin," he said as his wife approached the door 
 (it was the first time he called her by that name, and it 
 seemed extremely odd), "if there is anything I can do for 
 you, I hope you'll let me know." 
 
 " If you'll kindly telegraph to father for my horses and 
 carriage and Lamkin, my coachman, I shall be obliged," 
 she answered with a slight salutation, and left the room. 
 
 Horses and coachman and carriage all this fuss and 
 expense of moving back and forth, for only three or 
 four months ! Well, he had not acquired the feeling of a 
 millionaire yet, nor the needs of a complex existence ; and 
 he was probably a poor judge. He disliked making a 
 grand splurge with his wife's money, immediately ; pre- 
 ferring a slower and more judicious expansion. But 
 there was her mandate, clear and peremptory, as usual. 
 He seized his hat with a muttered oath and walked down 
 the street to the telegraph office. 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 319 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 A MATRIMONIAL PROBLEM. 
 
 It is odd how a good judge of men may utterly 
 misjudge women. Horace had thought of marriage as an 
 amicable partnership, to which he contributed the brains 
 and his wife the money. That he was to be head of the 
 firm followed, as a matter of course, and that his junior- 
 partner, recognizing his superiority, would unmurmuringly 
 acquiesce in his decisions, it had never occurred to him 
 to question. At the end of the first month of his married 
 life, he was, however, a sadder and a wiser man. His 
 calm and well-bred Kate, who could be so very charming 
 when she wanted to, developed also the correlative faculty 
 of not being charming when it suited her pleasure. She 
 displayed no preference for the latter kind of behavior, 
 but always threw upon him the onus of disturbing their 
 pleasant relations. She demanded his time, she demanded 
 his thought and his services in a hundred ways ; but she 
 made her demands politely, though with that clear and 
 well-chiselled neatness which irritated him, in spite of his 
 better judgment. He asked himself the question twenty 
 times a day, whether he had sunk to the position of being 
 his wife's business manager. She owned in her own right 
 a dozen houses in New York, both in aristocratic and in 
 plebeian localities, and as the leases expired, a correspond- 
 ence with the agents and frequent journeys to the city 
 became necessary, to attend to the management of the 
 property. Besides this, Kate had railroad and govern- 
 ment bonds, coupons constantly falling due, money to be 
 invested, and investments requiring to be closely watched. 
 The mere business of being her husband was sufficiently 
 absorbing to occupy a man's entire time and thought. 
 She had a remarkably clear head and a good business 
 judgment herself ; but she paid Horace the compliment 
 of thinking his better. He was obliged, whether he 
 would or not, to neglect his work in the legislature ; and 
 the opportunity to make his power and influence felt in 
 
32O THE MAMMON" 
 
 the Senate slipped out of his hand before he was aware 
 of it. Indications began to appear, before the end of the 
 session, that he was looked upon as a rich man who was 
 playing at politics. 
 
 Kate had a definite, preconceived idea of what a mar- 
 riage ought to be ; and though it was somewhat at vari- 
 ance with her husband's idea on the same subject, she 
 managed to make him live up to her ideal. If she had 
 attempted to define it she would have said that marriage 
 should be a rational and well-bred companionship between 
 two people who could advance themselves and advance 
 each other's purposes by joining forces. She had, how- 
 ever, a strong conviction that her purposes were by far 
 more rational and more important than his ; and that it 
 was his duty for the present to subordinate his interests 
 to hers. When a man married a woman of her wealth, 
 position, and general superiority, it was but fair to demand 
 of him a certain appreciation of his good fortune. He 
 might, at least, hold his own affairs in abeyance, and 
 allow hers to take precedence. If Mrs. Larkin had for- 
 mulated any such theory of marriage and propounded it to 
 her husband, it is safe to say that he would have rebelled. 
 But she was too clever to commit any such blunder. She 
 quietly absorbed him and took possession of him, as a mat- 
 ter of course, without consulting his preferences. She 
 treated him with respect and with a kind of friendly cam- 
 araderie which made it impossible to rebuff her. She 
 enjoyed conversing with him when, as she termed it, he 
 was in his rational mood ; liked to have him explain the 
 position of parties on the issues of the day, and asked 
 intelligent questions which showed that she understood 
 him completely. But if, as sometimes happened, his ad- 
 miration for her degenerated into tenderness, she grew 
 chilly and reserved, and administered prompt rebuffs. 
 As soon as he saw the futility of such approaches, and had 
 conquered the sheepishness, incident upon a repelled 
 caress, she freely forgave him, and serenely resumed 
 her discussion. 
 
 If any one had told Horace Larkin, a year ago, that he 
 was to become so solicitous about the favor of any mortal 
 creature, he would have laughed him to scorn. But, if 
 he had had the courage to contemplate his situation 
 clearly, he could not have escaped the conclusion that he 
 was in a mild and polite way henpecked. His wife grew 
 more formidable and at the same time more admirable to 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 321 
 
 him with every month that passed. Only on a single 
 occasion did he achieve a victory over her ; and then, 
 like a prudent general, she only retired from an indefen- 
 sible position. 
 
 Bills had been accumulating to an alarming extent in 
 the house, and a month passed before Kate took any steps 
 to pay them. Horace had a certain delicacy in calling her 
 attention to the subject ; because legally he was the debtor, 
 and it seemed to him that, in permitting her to pay his bills, 
 he abdicated the headship of the family, and assumed a 
 position of subordination and inferiority. Yet he did not 
 have the money to defray the lavish expenses which she 
 incurred ; especially as the building of his house in Torry- 
 ville was a heavy drain upon his resources. It was there- 
 fore a relief to him when Kate one morning, after break- 
 fast, handed him a check book and begged him to settle up 
 all accounts. 
 
 " But I have no deposit in the Second National Bank," 
 he said, seeing that the check book was issued by that in- 
 stitution. 
 
 " But I have," she answered ; "you only make out the 
 checks and I will sign them." 
 
 "You must excuse me," he said, firmly ; "but I cannot 
 agree to that arrangement." 
 
 " May I ask you why you object to it ? " 
 
 " In point of law, the man is the head o the house. I 
 wish to preserve, at least, the semblance of that character." 
 
 " I have no wish to deprive you of it. But I must insist 
 upon my right to do with my own as I want." 
 
 " Certainly ; only there is no need of insisting." 
 
 " Then what are we disagreeing about ? " 
 
 " I do not wish to pay my bills with your checks." 
 
 " I have no objection, if you prefer it, to your paying 
 them with your own." 
 
 There was a sting of sarcasm in this remark, which made 
 him wince. A slow wrath began to smoulder in his vitals, 
 and threatened to break into flame. She had the best of 
 the argument apparently, and yet he felt that he was right. 
 There is nothing so irritating as to be worsted in argument 
 by your wife. Horace could not afford to retire' from the 
 bout except with flying colors. 
 
 " Mrs. Larkin," he said with keen, incisive emphasis, " I 
 will pay the bills, as you suggest. But I must insist, hence- 
 forth, on your cutting down the scale of your expenditures 
 and living within my income." 
 21 
 
322 THE MAMMON 
 
 He handed her the check book and walked slowly out of 
 the room. All his soul was aroused and his strong frame 
 shook with suppressed anger. Had it come to this, that 
 he must go to his wife for pocket money and advertise to 
 the world his dependence upon her, at the same time that he 
 sacrificed to her his career and his honorable ambition. No, 
 he would have this thing settled now and here ; and he won Id 
 not yield an inch. They must agree upon a modus vivendi ; 
 otherwise life would be unendurable. 
 
 He was still passionately absorbed in this meditation as 
 he entered the Senate chamber and flung himself into his 
 seat. A page came up and handed him a dozen letters. 
 He tore them open, one after another, and glanced at the 
 signatures ; but he could not fix his mind on their contents. 
 A bill was being languidly debated, the object of which was 
 to remove all safeguards against fraud in the awarding of 
 canal contracts. The representatives of the Canal Ring 
 were there in full force, and their paid hirelings on the floor 
 of the Senate had it apparently all their own way. Horace 
 sat listening with a vague irritation to their thinly veiled 
 arguments in favor of corruption, and it struck him sud- 
 denly what a wretched pass democracy had come to, when 
 enterprising scoundrels could stand up, in the full light of 
 publicity, and with pretences that deceived nobody, facili- 
 tate the schemes of thieves and plunderers. The wrath with- 
 in him as he sat listening to these harangues gradually di- 
 verted him from his personal grievances ; and he began to 
 itch to give these shameless fellows a whack over the head. 
 Without a moment's deliberation he rose from his seat and 
 addressed the speaker. A ripple of interest ran through 
 the assembly at the sound of his voice. He had brought 
 a reputation with him from the lower house, but had so far 
 done nothing in the Senate to justify it. There was a 
 rousing clarion note in his voice, when he was deeply stirred, 
 and before he had spoken five minutes, all conversation had 
 ceased, and the letter-writing members had laid down their 
 pens and were straining their ears to listen. For once in his 
 life he threw policy to the winds and spoke out of the depth 
 of his conviction, striking right and left and caring little 
 whom he hit. He surpassed himself in vigor and in reck- 
 less sledge-hammer eloquence. He showed up the purpose 
 of the bill, waxed indignant over its iniquity, and tore the 
 arguments of its defenders into shreds with a fierce vindic- 
 tive delight. The doings of the Canal Ring, its composi- 
 tion and its whole inner history had been familiar to him 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 
 
 for many years ; but, somehow, they had never stirred his 
 wrath until to-day. The rumor spread through the cor- 
 ridors that the Hon. Horace Larkin was making an assault 
 upon the lobby, and the galleries rapidly filled with alarmed 
 members of the third chamber. When, at the end of an 
 hour, the honorable gentleman sat down, the universe, as 
 far as he was concerned, was restored to equilibrium. He 
 had retrieved himself in his own eyes. He was yet a power 
 in the world, whatever he might be in his own household. 
 The air about him seemed charged with electricity. The 
 reporters were scribbling away for dear life, preparing de- 
 spatches to telegraph to all the corners of the continent. 
 Not a soul ventured to lift his voice in favor of the bill, 
 after the irrefutable exposure it had received, but at the 
 voting which followed, it must be admitted, that it came 
 within a dozen votes of receiving a majority. The Senate 
 adjourned on the motion of some rural Solon who seemed 
 badly frightened ; and Horace sauntered out, but was over- 
 taken in the lobby by two so-called " dude members " from 
 New York City, who were profuse in their congratulations. 
 He grew shy, however, at their eagerness to claim him as 
 a brother reformer. He was by no means sure, yet, that his 
 path lay on that side ; and he was in no haste to commit 
 himself. 
 
 It did not occur to Horace that his speech had the least 
 bearing upon his matrimonial problem. The thought of 
 meeting his wife was not pleasant to him. It was chiefly to 
 postpone the evil hour that he walked about the city and 
 finally found himself in the open country under a bright 
 cold sky, with bare brown fields on either hand. He pre- 
 sently heard the firm, rhythmic hoof-beat of horses and the 
 roll of carriage wheels over the smooth highway. The metal- 
 lic clicking of the harness sounded close by, and in the 
 next moment there was a great splash, as the animals 
 struck a puddle in the road, and before he could look 
 about he felt the mud plastering his face and flying about 
 his ears. He stopped angrily, and was about to shout to 
 the coachman ; but recognizing that worthy by the august 
 dignity of his back, remained silent. He caught a glimpse, 
 too, of Mrs. Larkin, wrapped in her precious furs, lolling 
 in the corner of her carriage, with her air of vague disap- 
 proval of the world in general. 
 
 " Great God," he murmured with clenched teeth, as he 
 shook his fist after the departing carriage, " if I don't get 
 even with you " 
 
324 THE MAMMON 
 
 He contemplated his figure, dripping with mud, and 
 merely to give vent to his overcharged feelings swore a 
 long voluminous oath. Then he pulled out his handker- 
 chief, rubbed his face and picked the dirt out of his mus- 
 tache. A fierce resentment flared up in his heart. And 
 yet what had she done to him to arouse such savage senti- 
 ments ? She had surely not directed her coachman to give 
 him a mud-bath. She had simply not seen him, and if her 
 coachman had seen him, he had not recognized him. And 
 yet there was a symbolic significance in the act which 
 made it atrocious, in spite of its being unintentional. It 
 was thus she drove through life, calm and imperious, de- 
 void of all fellow-feeling for her kind, and heedlessly be- 
 spattering the chance wayfarer with the mud from her 
 carriage wheels. He had hoped to occupy the vacant seat 
 at her side ; but somehow, he lacked the impudence to do 
 it with good grace ; there was a democratic strain in his 
 blood which made him, in spite of his equestrian facilities, 
 afoot passenger. 
 
 He got home, under the cover of the twilight, and made 
 his toilet for dinner. Mrs. Larkin had made the dress coat 
 and the white tie obligatory ; and though he rebelled 
 against what appeared to him senseless ceremony, he 
 lacked courage to avow himself in her eyes a plebeian. 
 He resolved, as he descended the stairs, not to refer to his 
 accident and to repress the resentment which it had excit- 
 ed, for he was rational enough to see that in marriage 
 slight causes may have long and disastrous results. Having 
 taken this woman for better or for worse, and knowing 
 what an irrevocable fact she was in his life, he would only 
 be punishing himself in arousing feelings in her which 
 must make their intercourse more difficult. So he greeted 
 her, as she entered the drawing-room, with the ceremo- 
 nious stiffness which she liked, offered her his arm and con- 
 ducted her to the table. He felt that in doing this he had 
 gone far enough ; and he made no further effort to make 
 himself agreeable. 
 
 ft I was sorry you did not come home early enough to 
 take a drive with me," she said, tasting her consomm^ " I 
 enjoyed it very much." 
 
 " So did I," he answered, with a sardonic grin. 
 
 " Ah. Then you, too, went driving ?" 
 
 " No, I went on foot." 
 
 The tone of these answers convinced Kate that her amia- 
 bility was wasted, and she quickly withdrew her antennae 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. $2$ 
 
 into the shell of her icy reserve. And thus they sat through 
 a long dinner of half a dozen courses, glancing furtively at 
 each other, while they ate their costly delicacies without 
 the least appreciation 'of their choice flavors. Horace was 
 angry and miserable ; Kate was offended and miserable, and 
 felt that her dignity would never permit her to make 
 another advance toward such a boor as her husband. When 
 the meal, at last, came to an end, he excused himself and 
 retired into the library, where he sat smoking and ponder- 
 ing his wretchedness until midnight. 
 
 The next morning at breakfast, the same pleasant panto- 
 mime was repeated ; and the situation seemed doubly un- 
 endurable. Horace, feeling that a crisis was at hand, 
 determined to precipitate it by carrying out his threat 
 in regard to the bills, discharge the superfluous servants, 
 and enforce discipline, without regard for consequences. 
 He spent the morning in the library, signing checks and 
 writing letters, and was about to start for the Capitol, 
 when Kate entered the room unannounced, and seated her- 
 self in an easy chair close to his desk. He noticed with 
 some astonishment that she carried two New York papers 
 in her hand, and that the severity of her expression was 
 much relaxed. 
 
 " Have you read that?" she asked, putting one of the 
 papers before him on the desk; "I thought you might 
 like to see it." He took up the paper and read a report 
 of his speech of yesterday and an editorial in which 
 the ability and the courage of his performance were highly 
 praised. He was hailed as the coming man in his party, 
 and a great future was prophesied him. 
 
 "Why have you not told me of this ?" she asked with 
 grave friendliness. 
 
 " I did not think it would interest you," he answered, 
 doggedly. 
 
 " Then you do not know me, Mr. Larkin ; nothing would 
 interest me more." 
 
 " You think it might induce the President to send me 
 to the Court of St. James?" he asked, flinging himself 
 back in his chair, and smiling sarcastically. 
 
 "Not at once," she replied, with imperturbable compos- 
 ure ; " we can afford to wait." 
 
 He was much tempted to resume his writing and ignore 
 her presence. His dignity seemed to demand that he 
 should snub her ; but he was either not brave enough or 
 not rude enough to obey this impulse, for she was a tre- 
 
326 THE 
 
 mendous fact, this serene, beautiful woman, with herclear 
 brow, her fine intelligence, and her firm and definite pur- 
 poses. How could he help admiring her ? She was ex- 
 actly the type of womanhood which a priori \\Q would have 
 judged to be most admirable. And yet she roused the 
 old Adam in him with a frightful persistency, and made 
 him fear that, before he was done with her, he would get 
 to the point of striking her. 
 
 Kate, if she had any perception of what was going on 
 in her husband's mind, was not disturbed by it. She was 
 capable, not of forgiving, but of ignoring a great deal that 
 was unpleasant, after having received this forcible proof 
 that she had not been mistaken in her judgment of him. 
 
 "Mr. Larkin," she said, rising and leaning with her 
 hand on the side of the desk, "would you kindly let me 
 know what arrangement would be satisfactory to you, in 
 the matter of our common expenses ? " 
 
 He was taken aback by the suddenness of the question. 
 He was too obtuse to see the connection between this 
 proposed surrender and the prophecies of the New York 
 paper. 
 
 "What goodwill it do you to know?" he asked; "I 
 shouldn't like to risk a second refusal." 
 
 "You would oblige me by telling me." 
 
 " Very well, then. My proposal is that you should 
 hand over to me at the beginning of the year or every 
 half year whatever sum you may see fit to contribute to- 
 ward the running of our household. The administration 
 of it must be in my name and in my hands. If you have 
 suggestions to make, I'll listen to you with pleasure, but 
 the deciding voice must be mine." 
 
 She gazed at him for a while in silence, and her features 
 brightened with a look of pride and gratification. 
 
 " Would you allow me," she inquired, with extreme 
 courtesy, " to take your place for a moment at the desk ? " 
 
 He arose, somewhat mystified, and offered her his chair. 
 
 " I'll be parboiled if I know what she is up to now," 
 was his mental comment. He regarded her movements 
 with the kind of interested curiosity with which one 
 watches the gesticulations of a conjurer when anything 
 imaginable may be the result. She took a pen, tried it on 
 the back of an envelope, and pulling her small check book 
 from her pocket proceeded to draw a check. It would 
 have been hard to tell why at this point he looked away 
 with a marked assumption of indifference. He took a little 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 32? 
 
 stroll on the floor, looked out of the window, and began 
 softly to whistle. When he had finished this little farce to 
 his own satisfaction, he found his wife standing in front 
 of him. 
 
 "Would you kindly accept this as my first contribu- 
 tion ?" she said simply, handing him the check ; and with 
 a slight salutation she left the room. 
 
 Half dumfounded he stood and looked, now at the door, 
 now at the slip of paper he held in his hand. There 
 was not a suspicion of eclat or dramatic effect in her man- 
 ner. But the very absence of it, the queenly simplicity 
 of her speech and act, made you listen for the orchestral 
 flourish which follows a climax in dramatic action. 
 
 " Pay to Horace Larkin or bearer Fifty Thousand Dollars 
 $50,000 Catharine Van Schaak Larkin" were the words 
 which he read, and re-read until they made him dizzy. 
 He realized slowly what they meant. He was a victor, 
 indeed, but for all that he felt defeated. It was Pyrrhic 
 victory. 
 
328 THE MAMMON 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 A MATRIMONIAL CHRONICLE. 
 
 The family on the sixth floor of the Patagonia consisted 
 no longer of two but of three. A little brown and wrinkled 
 fragment of humanity had arrived about six weeks ago, 
 and had made no end of commotion in the household. 
 It was, for all that, enthusiastically welcomed, and after 
 some rather spirited disputes between his parents, it was 
 named Obed Larkin. While he was in the vegetable 
 state, devoting himself solely to the absorption of nourish- 
 ment, his father, curiously enough, took a livelier interest 
 in him than his mother ; and it was not until he had ac- 
 quired some rudimentary accomplishments, such as smil- 
 ing, kicking, and putting his toes in his mouth, that the 
 latter began to discover his charms. But then, Gertrude 
 had been very ill, and under peculiarly trying circum- 
 stances. She was subject to unaccountable moods arid, at 
 times, the burden of poverty was so heavy that it seemed 
 as if she must break down under it. Aleck was now part 
 proprietor of the school ; his heart was in his work, and he 
 was looked upon as a successful teacher. But if he was 
 successful, she argued, how could he be content with a 
 paltry $2,500, which was less than many a clerk got, who 
 had neither his intellect nor his culture? Aleck was en- 
 tirely unable to explain this to her satisfaction, although 
 he exerted himself hard enough. He tried his best to keep 
 a brave heart amid all their tribulations, and he thought 
 a hundred times, when her moods tried him beyond endur- 
 ance, of the physician's saying that she had inherited poor 
 nerves. He could not be angry with her for a physical 
 ailment which had been bequeathed to her at her birth by 
 Him who visits the iniquities of the fathers upon the chil- 
 dren. And moreover, he loved her so dearly, that even 
 when she tortured him, his heart was full of tenderness 
 and pity, and he thanked God that it had fallen to his lot 
 to comfort and protect her. He did not rebel against his 
 fate, nor did he waste time in vain regrets. He had not 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 329 
 
 expected a life of unalloyed bliss, and knew that he had 
 no right to expect it. A cheerful resignation is compatible 
 with a good deal of happiness ; and there were moments 
 when Aleck blessed even his trials for the sweet rewards 
 they sometimes brought him. 
 
 I may as well admit it ; the code of conduct in the Pata- 
 gonia was a little peculiar. When Gertie, after a prolonged 
 attack of the blues, sat opposite to her husband at the 
 table, eating nothing and feeling a vague resentment of 
 his appetite, it would occasionally happen that the absurd- 
 ity of her own behavior struck her and she would give 
 little lugubrious laughs, to which he would sympatheti- 
 cally respond, although he had not the remotest idea of 
 what provoked her mirth. Only, on general principles, he 
 was anxious to encourage any cheerful impulse she might 
 have. Then, when the meal was at an end, she would, by 
 way of reconciliation, rumple his hair a little in passing 
 his chair, and he would feel as grateful for this attention 
 as if it had been the tenderest caress. Perhaps, after the 
 lapse of five or ten minutes she would invade his humble 
 library, and seating herself upon his lap attribute to herself 
 all manner of obnoxious qualities in the hope that he 
 would contradict her. 
 
 " I have been perfectly horrid, Aleck, haven't I ! " 
 
 "No, dear, you haven't been horrid ; you couldn't be 
 horrid, even if you tried to." 
 
 " But I have tried to, Aleck ; I have been as bad as I 
 possibly could." 
 
 " You have tried to be horrid ? Why, dearest, I can't 
 quite believe that." 
 
 " You don't know me, Aleck, I know myself I am per- 
 fectly detestable, and yet I can't help it. There is a kind 
 of blue devil inside of me who makes me do and say the 
 most abominable things to you. I would give the world 
 to be cheerful and contented, but it is no good to try, I 
 simply can't. And this blue devil leaves me quite as sud- 
 denly as he comes. And then I know how miserable I 
 have made you, Aleck." 
 
 He knew from sad experience how dangerous it was to 
 agree with her, when she was in this mood of self-accusa- 
 tion, or even to show the slightest disposition to concede 
 that there was a modicum of truth in her indictment. The 
 penalty for such an unwary admission was apt to be 
 severer than justice demanded. 
 
 "Well, Mr. Larkin," she would say, withdrawing her 
 
33O THE MA MM OX 
 
 arms from his neck, as abruptly as if he had been a leper, 
 " if that is your opinion of me, it is a great pity you didn't 
 find it out before. You might then have been saved the 
 mistake of marrying me." 
 
 Whereupon she would rise from his lap and walk out of 
 the room deeply offended, and he would vainly spend the 
 rest of the evening in all sorts of ingenious devices to coax 
 her back into good humor. 
 
 Of course he soon learned his lesson. He became a 
 positive expert in affectionate mendacity. He could tell 
 to a "t" what answer she expected, and never scrupled to 
 give it. After a while these domestic excursions into the 
 domain of fiction lost all relation to his conscience. With 
 admirable brazenness he told her ten times a week that 
 she was the most amiable woman in the world, and that 
 she had not the remotest suggestion of a temper. And 
 I when it suited her mood to dispute this assertion, he would 
 admit with a judicial mien that she had spirit, and that 
 he had no respect for a woman who had not. 
 
 Thus passed year after year of their married life. They 
 grew a trifle more prosperous and were able to move into 
 a better flat. Another boy arrived, and came near receiv- 
 ing the name of Horace, but Gertrude professed such an 
 aversion for this name that Aleck was obliged to change it 
 to Ralph. Obed had in the meanwhile grown very hand- 
 some and had developed the most fascinating character- 
 istics. He was scarcely three years old when he began to 
 show (as his father thought) evidences of an unusual intel- 
 lect. His pride in the boy and his affection for him knew no 
 bounds, and he did whatever he could to spoil him. In 
 the school, among his fellow-teachers, he never failed to re- 
 late Obed's last clever saying, until on one occasion he 
 happened to see a cartoon in Puck, representing a man 
 who stands alone at one end of a room, disconsolately turn- 
 ing over some photographs, while at the other end twenty 
 or thirty people are crowded together in animated conver- 
 sation. And under the picture he read the legend : " This is 
 the fiend who tells the bright sayings of his five-year-old 
 son." It was a warning which he could not afford to dis- 
 regard. Instead of bragging to his friends of his child's 
 cleverness he now kept a diary in which all the evidences 
 of Obed's precocity were faithfully chronicled. 
 
 Most women, after marriage, sink the wife in the 
 mother, or the mother in the wife. The force of their 
 affection flows abundantly in the one direction or the 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 331 
 
 other, but never equally in both. Gertrude, after the 
 birth of her children, felt a new well-spring of love open- 
 ing in her breast. The old aimlessness of her life, which 
 had been its chief affliction, distressed her no more. 
 Every moment of the day had its urgent duties, and though 
 she did not profess to find them always delightful, they 
 yet filled a want in her heart and prevented her from 
 nursing empty griefs. She was fully convinced that, if 
 the opportunity had been afforded her, she would have 
 risen to fame as a sculptor. Her talent, as it ceased to be 
 actively exercised, became less a source of vexation to her 
 and more one of pride. It redeemed her from the dreary 
 commonplaceness which is the lot of the vast majority of 
 women. It made her exceptional and justified a height- 
 ened self-respect. Social position, she persuaded herself, 
 she did not care for ; and Aleck strengthened her to 
 the extent of his ability in her wholesome contempt for 
 conventionalities. He was innocent enough to believe 
 in her sincerity, when she commiserated those earth- 
 clogged souls who drove in carriages and had no thought 
 beyond fashion plates and the exchange of inane civilities. 
 As if there ever was a woman, from Sappho and Madame 
 de Stael down, who did not yearn for the conventional ! 
 
 Aleck sometimes in his saner moments suspected that he 
 spoiled his wife. It seemed to him that the more anxious 
 he grew to please her, the harder she grew to please. 
 Occasionally when his friends, Miller and Tuthill, who 
 were employed in the school, told him how they managed 
 their wives, he resolved to take Gertrude seriously in hand 
 and once for all establish his authority over her. But 
 somehow the time seemed never opportune for beginning 
 this course of discipline. Either Gertrude was too charm- 
 ing in her perversity, or too touchingly sweet in her pouts, 
 or she was not in very good health, which might account 
 for her irrational conduct. And was he, after all, such an 
 exemplary fellow himself that he could afford to set him- 
 self up as a judge over her ? 
 
 It was while this question of discipline was troubling 
 Aleck, that Gertrude declared that she wanted a fine etching 
 on the wall over the sofa. Couldn't Aleck spare a Satur- 
 day afternoon and go with her on an expedition in search 
 of something effective and appropriate. She knew exactly 
 what she wanted; but she would yet prefer to consult 
 him. Quite flattered at this consideration he started out 
 with her, arid made the round of the stores which make a 
 
33 2 THE MAMMON 1 
 
 specialty of etchings. But the most hopeless diversity 
 of taste soon became apparent. Gertrude would look at 
 nothing but dogs, while Aleck, as she contemptuously 
 averred, would look at nothing but girls. 
 
 " Suppose, Gertie," her husband proposed, when the 
 twentieth store had been visited, " suppose we strike a 
 compromise. I am willing, if you say so, to take a girl 
 with a dog." 
 
 "As if that were a compromise," retorted Gertrude, pug- 
 naciously ; " then you would have your way after all." 
 
 " What, then, would you propose ?" he inquired, wearily. 
 
 "Well," she said, "I I would propose a dog with 'a 
 girl." 
 
 " All right, dear. You take your choice. I have got to 
 run over to Brentano's. I'll be back in fifteen minutes." 
 
 Having finished his errand, he returned. His wife met 
 him in the door with a radiant face. She professed great 
 delight at seeing him, and talked vivaciously about every- 
 thing under the sun. When they got home, an hour and 
 a half later, Aleck was confronted with six dogs' heads set 
 in a panel. 
 
 "But where is the girl, Gertie?" he exclaimed, too 
 amused to be angry. 
 
 "Well now, Aleck," she replied, coaxingly, seizing his 
 arm and gazing up into his eyes, "don't you think dogs 
 are a great deal nicer ? " 
 
 "Well, dear," he ejaculated laughing, "when they are 
 well disciplined, I almost think they are." 
 
 "So do I ; but you know, that's just the trouble with 
 girls ; they cant be disciplined." 
 
 "Are you quite sure of that ? " 
 
 There came a challenging light into her eyes, in which 
 there lurked yet a spark of amusement. 
 
 " If you have any doubt on the subject, suppose you try 
 the experiment," she said, with humorous defiance. 
 
 "No, I'll take your word for it, dear. You know 
 best." 
 
 " But really, don't you think those dogs are lovely, 
 Aleck?" 
 
 "Well, I can't say I do ; but I shall probably get used 
 to them after a while." 
 
 " Now, Aleck, that's perfectly horrid in you to say 
 that. You only say it to make me wretched." 
 
 "Well, dear, to be frank, I think I am beginning to like 
 the picture more, the more I look at it. You know you 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 333 
 
 can never tell at once whether you like a picture. You 
 have to live with it." 
 
 " Yes, exactly. That's what I have always insisted. And 
 don't you think that Collie-Calypso is a perfect beauty ?" 
 
 " Yes, she is really very fine. Such faithful eyes and 
 such solemn dignity in her expression." 
 
 " Well now, Aleck, that is perfectly charming. I knew 
 you would in the end agree with me." 
 
 For ten minutes more this discussion was continued with 
 coaxings and playful threats, until Aleck had been induced 
 to admit that all the six dogs were beauties, and that he 
 liked all of them nay, preferred them to girls. But Ger- 
 trude, after her first flush of triumph began to grow uneasy. 
 The very completeness of her victory caused her appre- 
 hension. Dim impulses of generosity began to stir within 
 her. When they had finished dinner and Aleck had re- 
 tired into his study for a smoke, she braved his detested 
 pipe (which since Obed's birth he had adopted for economic 
 reasons) and seated herself upon his lap. She insisted 
 upon his continuing to smoke, declared that she was getting 
 so accustomed to his pipe now, that she would miss it if he 
 were to give it up, and bewildered him by her amiability 
 and her magnanimous proposals. 
 
 "Aleck, you poor boy," she said, "did it ever occur to 
 you that I am not half as nice to you as you are to me ? " 
 
 " No," declared Aleck, laughing ; "how could anything 
 so absurd occur to me ?" 
 
 " But Aleck, it is really so. You give up to me always ; 
 and I never give up to you." 
 
 " Don't you ? Why, my dear, I think you are quite 
 wrong there." 
 
 "Tell me of a single instance.' 
 
 He pondered solemnly for several minutes and finally 
 invented a case ; but she took him up promptly, and re- 
 futed him ; whereupon she embraced him with remorseful 
 tenderness and shed a few furtive tears. But when Aleck, 
 encouraged by her affectionate mood whispered some en- 
 dearing nonsense in her ear, and responded with happy 
 ardor to her caresses, she grew suddenly coy, lifted her 
 face from his bosom with a little frown of guilty defiance 
 and said in a tone of grave remonstrance : 
 
 " Now, Aleck, don't gush ! Why must you always gush, 
 the moment I touch you ? You know I am a great deal too 
 good for you ; but you are the only one I have, so, of 
 course, don't you see ?" 
 
334 THE MAMMON 
 
 The inference to be drawn from this declaration was by 
 no means flattering, but he had learned by this time to in- 
 terpret a great deal of what she said in a Pickwickian 
 sense. For his love for her was like a radiant luminary 
 which shed its warm lustre upon her every word and act, 
 investing them with an irresistible charm. " At bottom she 
 is good and true," he said to himself, when that fact seemed 
 in special need of reaffirmation ; "and I would not have 
 her otherwise." 
 
 And this faith of his in her essential goodness was not 
 disappointed in the present instance. When Gertrude 
 rose from her slumber the morning after her etching ex- 
 pedition, and her eyes met the six solemn faces of the Duke 
 of Buccleugh's dogs, she grew almost as solemn as they. 
 She could not comprehend the mysterious change they had 
 undergone; they had lost every vestige of beauty over 
 night. The next day they became an annoyance, and the 
 third day they were a positive affliction. Their grave re- 
 proachful eyes followed her wherever she went. She 
 could endure them no longer. Without notifying Aleck, she 
 donned her street costume, visited the dealer and exchang- 
 ed her canines for one of Boughton's old-English girls, and 
 the prettiest one she could find. When Aleck came home 
 that evening, they had a spirited contest in magnanimity 
 which ended with a little scene of a strictly confidential 
 nature : 
 
 " Teach me, only teach, love, 
 
 As I aught. 
 
 I will speak thy speech, love, 
 Think thy thought." 
 
 " But," exclaimed Aleck, not liking to be outdone in gen- 
 erosity; "you might at least have kept one or two of the 
 dogs, and yet gotten me my girl." 
 
 "No, Aleck," she answered with mock gravity, "you 
 can't expect to get more than one girl for six dogs. I 
 should say that was a fair equivalent." 
 
 There was, however, a more serious side to the life of 
 these affectionate triflers than appeared in these playful en- 
 counters. Aleck had never quite given up his literary aspi- 
 rations, and though struggling with disadvantages of every 
 kind, saw a will-o'-the-wisp of hope continually dancing in 
 his path, luring him on to fresh endeavors. Several of his 
 poems found their way into the magazines, and were ex- 
 travagantly praised by a single friendly critic to whom 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 335 
 
 Aleck, in the days of his prosperity, had lent $20. It was 
 odd, he thought, for a debtor to choose that way of get- 
 ting even with him. If he had damned him with excep- 
 tional virulence, he would have been less surprised. To 
 Gertrude, however, these drops of praise were extremely 
 sweet. She kept the newspaper cuttings in her sewing 
 basket (in which she also kept her purse and everything 
 else, except what properly belonged there) and read them 
 half mechanically to herself while she sat nursing her 
 youngest child. It had never occurred to her that Aleck 
 might be a great man a great man in disguise, as she put 
 it to herself. But if the world decided that she was wrong 
 in her estimate of him, she was more than willing to be 
 convinced. She hoped most ardently, both for her own 
 sake and for his, that he might attain celebrity as a man 
 of letters ; and that it might come to him, while they were 
 both young enough to enjoy it. With every month and 
 every year that passed she grew more anxious ; until one 
 day she stumbled upon a newspaper paragraph, which in- 
 formed her that literary fame was rarely attained in youth, 
 and that Thackeray, George Eliot, and Balzac were well on 
 toward forty before they emerged from obscurity. She cut 
 this item out and pasted it in her pocketbook ; and when- 
 ever her heart was heavy, she took it out and set herself 
 bravely to tracing resemblances between her husband's 
 circumstances and those of the great authors. And when 
 finally a little success came to him she saw in it a promise 
 of the fulfilment of all her fond dreams. 
 
 Aleck happened one day to read an essay by Edmund 
 Clarence Stedman, in which the assertion was made that' 
 the present age demanded novels rather than epics, and 
 that we were living in a period of transition during which 
 poetry was suffering an eclipse. Poetry was no longer the 
 chief artery through which the intellectual vitality of the 
 century was pulsing. This statement struck him forcibly, 
 and presently started him on a journey of exploration in his 
 own mind. Was he a poet by the grace of God a man with 
 whom lofty rhythmic utterance was natural and imperative ? 
 Was he not rather oppressed by a dim creative yearning 
 which demanded some kind of expression, and had chosen 
 a poetic one because it seemed the most dignified and satis- 
 factory ? Would it not be worth while to make an experi- 
 ment in prose, if the rewards of authorship lay in that di- 
 rection ? A plot for a short story soon occurred to him, 
 and it cost him three sleepless nights to develop it consis- 
 
336 THE MAMMON 
 
 tently in all its details. He said nothing to Gertrude about 
 it, until it was finished and accepted by one of the leading 
 magazines. It was an episode of political life which he had 
 witnessed in his youth, with a realistic rural love-story in- 
 tertwined. There was a strong touch in it, and here and 
 there great felicity of phrase. The little stir it created was 
 very grateful to its author, for it opened the magazines to 
 him and stimulated his ambition. At the solicitation of his 
 wife he began a full-grown novel, entitled " The Cloven 
 Foot ;" which grew, in the course of a year and a half, to 
 be such an absorbing topic that it blotted out half the real 
 life about them. When Aleck came home from the school, 
 where he did his writing in his private study, Gertrude's 
 first question as she went to meet him was : " How is your 
 Cloven Foot?" Then followed a lively discussion of the 
 hero's fate and the heroine's doings and sayings, criticisms, 
 designing of costumes, and unsparing ridicule, on the lady's 
 part, of the toilets which Aleck had evolved from his inner 
 consciousness. Little Obed, who sat at his father's side, 
 listening to the conversation, created much merriment by 
 his innocent questions concerning these fictitious person- 
 ages, in whose reality he firmly believed. He heard this 
 question : " How is your Cloven Foot," so constantly that 
 he took it to be a normal and proper salutation, and when 
 Mrs. Tuthill called upon his mother, he startled that lady 
 by saying (after much vain coaxing to be polite) : " How do 
 you do ? And how is your Cloven Foot ?" 
 
 Among the many plans, the realization of which depend- 
 ed upon the success of her husband's novel, was one which 
 Gertrude cherished with the fondest anticipations. She 
 wanted a house of her own. Her bad moods, which yet 
 continued, though with longer intervals than before, she 
 attributed to the discomforts incident upon life in an apart- 
 ment house. When the steam radiators at five o'clock in 
 the morning commenced to make a racket like a continuous 
 discharge of musketry, and roused all man's unregenerate 
 impulses, she contended that it required stronger nerves 
 than she possessed to keep an even temper through the day. 
 When the shivering old maids on the top floor demanded 
 a temperature of eighty degrees, and the pipes, in passing 
 through the lower flats, heated these apartments to the same 
 temperature, it seemed as if a needless burden was added 
 to existence, and a little profanity would have been excus- 
 able. This relief, was, however, denied to Gertrude. She 
 had to bear her cross and be silent. But she took it out in 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 337 
 
 the blues. Housewifely thrift was not among her virtues ; 
 and everything relating to housekeeping vexed and annoyed 
 her. She had an idea that when she got a house, all these 
 trials would be at an end. Servants objected to flats, for 
 obvious reasons ; but when they were given free sway in a 
 house, she had been told that they gave far less trouble. 
 She was anxious to try the experiment. 
 
 One trial, which at the outset of their married life Aleck 
 had anticipated with dread, was happily spared them. 
 Gertrude's mother, the Countess Kharlovitz, as she called 
 herself, died about six months after her daughter's visit to 
 her, and was buried at Aleck's expense. Count Kharl- 
 ovitz, it turned out, had had some connection with a coun- 
 terfeiting gang, and getting himself entangled with the 
 police betook himself to parts unknown. His history, 
 which was a picturesque and varied one, was published in 
 the Sunday World, with sundry illustrations. Aleck read 
 it with a quaking heart, and congratulated himself that 
 there were some facts which had escaped the reporter's 
 notice. . The name Larkin was not mentioned in the arti- 
 cle. 
 
 22 
 
338 THE MAMMON 
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 BLIND SKIRMISHINGS. 
 
 After having served two terms in the Senate, Horace 
 Larkin determined not to accept a renomination. His 
 chief reason for turning his back upon the State Legisla- 
 ture was his wife's aversion for Albany. During his sec- 
 ond term she refused to accompany him, and took up her 
 residence in her father's house in Gramercy Park. He 
 was, of course, at liberty to visit her there ; but the atmos- 
 phere of the Van Schaak family was uncongenial to him ; 
 the old gentleman irritated him by his fussiness about all 
 sorts of nothings, and Mrs. Van Schaak by her high-nosed 
 condescension. He felt as if he were simply tolerated ; 
 and that it was only Kate's authority which secured for 
 him a certain amount of consideration. For she treated 
 him with an almost ostentatious respect in the presence of 
 her parents, and exacted a similar treatment from them. 
 But, after all, it was not pleasant to be living in such a 
 state of armed neutrality. From pure inanity and despe- 
 ration he took to flirting mildly with Mrs. Adrian, Jr., who, 
 from hunger for amusement, pounced upon him like a 
 vulture ; but the disapprobation of the other members of 
 the family made the air so oppressive that he lost heart for 
 the enterprise. On Mrs. Adrian, however, this repressed 
 condemnation had exactly the opposite effect. It stimu- 
 lated her to greater audacity. From sheer deviltry she 
 praised Horace to the skies ; professed the most extrava- 
 gant regard for him, and did her best to give a perfectly 
 harmless affair the appearance of a deep intrigue. With 
 a mischievous air of innocence she sat at the dinner-table, 
 saying whatever came into her head, and attributing to him 
 the most compromising remarks, which he had never 
 uttered. And when he, entering into the joke, replied by 
 attributing to her some still more indiscreet utterance, she 
 would shake her forefinger at him in playful threat, and 
 exclaim : 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 339 
 
 "Now, Horace, I wouldn't have believed that of you. 
 I'll be more careful next time. Never, never shall I say 
 anything nice to you again." 
 
 At last, when this comedy had gone a good deal further 
 than was agreeable to him, he seriously remonstrated with 
 his fair persecutor. 
 
 " I hope you'll not take it unkindly," he said, " if I beg 
 you not to talk of me the way you do at table." 
 
 "And what way do I talk about you?" she inquired, 
 with mischief lurking in her eyes. 
 
 "You know that as well as I do," he answered, " not to 
 put too fine a point on it you you make me very uncom- 
 fortable by your fanciful statements." 
 
 "Why not say lies?" she cried, gayly. "I may just as 
 well confess it, I like to lie. It is such a relief after along 
 day of monotonous truth-telling." 
 
 "And might I be permitted to suggest that you choose 
 some other subject for your fictions the next time ? You 
 may not suspect it and, of course, I know you don't 
 but you put me, at times, in a very embarrassing posi- 
 tion." 
 
 " Don't I, though ?" the heartless creature exclaimed, in 
 great glee; "why, my dear Horace, who would have 
 thought you were so unsophisticated?" 
 
 He perceived that he must change his tactics if he were 
 to make any impression upon her. She was absolutely 
 irresponsible, and gloried in her irresponsibility. It was- 
 not so easy a matter as he had anticipated to extricate 
 himself from her jewelled clutches. 
 
 " Do let us talk seriously, Annie," he said, leaning for- 
 ward and fixing an earnest gaze upon her ; " I know, of 
 course, this is all play to you, but to me it may have serious 
 consequences. My wife you know, I should not in her 
 present condition, wish to exasperate her." 
 
 "Ah, but that is what I should like above all things," 
 Mrs. Adrian ejaculated, with a sudden flash of resentment 
 in her eye ; " I would give ten years of my life, if I could 
 make Kate angry, not miffed only, you know, but real 
 hopping mad. She has exasperated me until I have cried, 
 not once, but a hundred thousand times and nothing 
 would give me more pleasure than to get even with her." 
 
 " But you must excuse me if I refuse to be a party to 
 such a scheme," Horace replied, with a cool firmness which 
 made her shudder ; " if I must have a quarrel, I prefer to 
 have it with you rather than with Kate." 
 
340 THE MAMMON' 
 
 "Well, I don't blame you. We all know on what side 
 our bread is buttered. And still it is a great pity, for you 
 were so amusing," she finished with a little sigh, as with a 
 mock courtesy she left the room. 
 
 It was true ; Kate had found it beneath her dignity to 
 take notice of her husband's flirtation. If she was priv- 
 ately annoyed by it (as was not unlikely), her self-respect 
 was too great to permit her to make the slightest demon- 
 stration of dissatisfaction. Nay, she even heaped glowing 
 coals upon his head by showing an interest in his costume. 
 
 "Couldn't you find out," she said to him one evening, 
 as he was conversing with her in the up-stairs sitting-room, 
 " where Adrian gets his clothes. You'll not mind my tell- 
 ing you that his coats and trousers have a certain air of 
 being comme il faut which yours have not." 
 
 " I'll go to his tailor, if you like," he answered ; "though 
 I can scarcely hope to rival Adrian in elegance/' 
 
 "Yes, you can. And I want you to promise to show me 
 samples of cloths which are fashionable, and consult me 
 before making a choice." 
 
 When, a week later, Horace entered his wife's apart- 
 ment, arrayed in the garments thus carefully selected, she 
 looked at him critically, and with visible disappointment. 
 That indefinable air which she found so impressive in her 
 brother was still wanting. Horace, reading her unspoken 
 judgment in her face, felt a kind of sheepish discomfiture 
 which he could not shake off. 
 
 " Kate," he said, with a half pathetic laugh, "it's no 
 good. It isn't the coat, it's the man." 
 
 She was almost inclined to admit the failure of her ex- 
 periment ; but it was not in her nature to concede that she 
 could be wrong. 
 
 " I don't think so, Horace," she replied in her firm, clear 
 voice ; and in the hope to apply balm to his wounded feel- 
 ings she added : " I have always maintained that you have 
 just the style of ugliness that can be made to look like dis- 
 tinction." 
 
 "Thanks," he said, smiling ironically ; "don't exert your- 
 self further. You might make me conceited." 
 
 The long expected event which had kept Horace in the 
 city during the greater part of the winter, finally took place 
 about the beginning of March. A little black-eyed daugh- 
 ter was born to him. He had expected to experience some 
 little emotion on such an occasion ; but he was disappointed. 
 The only sensation of which he was conscious was a slight 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 341 
 
 embarrassment at his utter superfluity. It appeared to be 
 in order to say something appropriate to Kate ; but she 
 was evidently expecting nothing, and perhaps he would, 
 in the end, only be making a jack of himself. So he be- 
 took himself away with a sense of awkwardness and 
 oppression. He found it hard to forgive his daughter 
 her sex. He felt as if she had purposely deceived him. 
 Both Kate and he had been confident that they were to 
 have a boy. However, even a girl might be made an ex- 
 cuse for a little paternal vanity ; and feeling a strong need 
 of confiding in someone, Horace walked up the Avenue 
 to the Union League Club, of which he was a member. 
 There he sat for an hour pretending to read a newspaper. 
 But he saw no opportunity such as he desired for a jocose 
 assertion of his new dignity. At last the thought of Aleck 
 came to him like an inspiration ; he hired a cab and drove 
 into the unfashionable neighborhood on Twenty-third 
 Street between Seventh and Eighth Avenues where his 
 brother's migratory household was then sojourning. It 
 was not the first time, by any means, that he sought Aleck 
 during this dreary, interminable winter. He had been quite 
 a frequent visitor in the huge human hive where men 
 swarmed like bees and crawled through long labyrinthine 
 passages to their appropriate cells. After many rebuffs he 
 had succeeded in establishing himself tolerably in the favor 
 of his nephew Obed, upon whom (much to his mother's 
 annoyance) he lavished presents. But Horace did not 
 have the knack of pleasing children, and to romp with 
 them as Aleck did, without the least loss of dignity, would 
 have been impossible to him. It was almost pathetic to 
 see how he sued for the good-will of his two pretty 
 nephews ; though Gertrude always maintained that he did 
 not care a rap about them. 
 
 The fact was, Horace felt a little awkward in his rela- 
 tions with his brother, because he had never been able to 
 induce his wife to renew her acquaintance with Gertrude. 
 He had used the excuse which the expectation of an addi- 
 tion to the family had furnished as long as it was available ; 
 and it had cost Gertrude the greatest exertion to listen to 
 the repetition of this plea with a sober face. There were 
 a hundred spiteful remarks which she would have liked to 
 make, and which she would have made, if Aleck's eyes had 
 not restrained her. She knew that Kate looked down 
 upon her, for a variety of reasons ; and it seemed hard that 
 she should be denied the satisfaction of letting her know 
 
342 THE MAMMON 
 
 how sublimely indifferent she was to her attentions, and 
 how entirely superior she felt herself in all respects. 
 
 It was about the middle of May, when the baby was 
 more than two months old, that Horace again broached the 
 perilous topic to Kate at the luncheon-table. They were 
 to move to Torryville, where their new house was await- 
 ing them, in two weeks ; and there could be no reason, as 
 far as he could see, for refusing to be polite, when polite- 
 ness cost so little. If it were a question of an intimacy 
 which might in the end prove burdensome, he would be 
 the last to urge it upon her. But Gertrude was a proud 
 and sensitive woman, against whom there would be no need 
 of being on one's guard. And moreover, they were to live 
 in different cities, and their lives would of necessity be far 
 apart. 
 
 Kate sat listening to this earnest argument with her 
 usual placid expression. Only now and then a fine scorn, 
 or the merest shadowy suggestion of it, would flit across 
 her countenance. 
 
 " It is useless to discuss such a matter with you, Horace," 
 she said, taking a sip of tea ; "for you don't know the first 
 thing about social usages, and the obligations you incur 
 by a call." 
 
 " But do tell me," he interposed, eagerly, "what have 
 you against Gertrude ? You surely don't need to like 
 everybody you call upon." 
 
 " I should hope not," she answered, emphatically, " or I 
 should have to drop nine-tenths of my visiting list." 
 
 " That's what I supposed. What, then, is the matter with 
 Gertrude ? " 
 
 " There is nothing the matter with her. She is very 
 nice, I don't doubt, and all that. But if you don't mind 
 my saying it, she is scarcely, in the strictest sense, good 
 form, not quite comme il faut." 
 
 " Not comme il faut ! Well, I must say, I don't see it. 
 Seems to me she looks as well as anybody, and a good deal 
 better than most of the people who come here. Now, do 
 tell me, why isn't she comme il faut ? " 
 
 " Not comme il fau, if you please, but comme il fauo" Kate 
 corrected, blandly ; she was proud of her Parisian accent, 
 and rarely missed an opportunity to lord it over him, 
 when he used a French phrase. 
 
 "Well, comme il fauo, then," he cried, exaggerating his 
 accent. "But you didn't answer my question." 
 
 "I don't know that I can answer it to your satisfaction. 
 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 343 
 
 It would be like trying to explain the colors to a blind 
 man." 
 
 " You mean to say that I am not comme il faut myself ?" 
 
 " I shouldn't like to say that to you ; but to cut short the 
 discussion, I'll call upon your sister-in-law, as you wish." 
 
 " Thanks ! And if you'll permit me to make a further 
 suggestion refrain as far as you can from patronizing 
 her. She is very sensitive." 
 
 " Anything else ? " 
 
 " No, nothing else." 
 
 At half-past three o'clock Kate ordered her carriage, and 
 with a great rattle of wheels, clicking of metal, and hoof- 
 beats of prancing steeds, invaded the plebeian neighbor- 
 hood west of Seventh Avenue. One of the liveried foot- 
 men jumped off the box and with a profound bow opened 
 the carriage door. 
 
 " Tillbury," she said, "tell James to drive back into Fifth 
 Avenue and stop nowhere. Be back here promptly in 
 fifteen minutes." 
 
 The footman made another solemn bow, and having 
 rung the bell of the apartment house, remounted his 
 box. He made a grimace to his colleague James, as he re- 
 peated his orders. Madame evidently had relatives of 
 humble degree, and did not wish her conspicuous carriage 
 to be seen waiting outside an apartment house in such a 
 shabby quarter. 
 
 The visit passed off without any incident. Kate, with 
 her quiet lynx eyes, took in every minutest detail of furni- 
 ture and upholstery, and reflected that it was exactly what 
 she would have expected. She made the usual benevolent 
 inquiries regarding husband and children, remarked that 
 the weather had been extraordinary, patted Obed's cheek 
 with her gloved hand and hoped that Mrs. Larkin found 
 time to cultivate her artistic talent, which she had heard 
 was quite promising. It was all de haut enbas, and Ger- 
 trude was keenly conscious of the condescension which 
 every word implied. She bristled with suppressed ani- 
 mosity, and would have given her visitor a hint of her 
 sentiments, if she had not been afraid of affording her 
 pleasure by making a goose of herself. It was obviously 
 her best policy to be haughty in return, freezingly polite, 
 and for each pat on the shoulder give another back. Be- 
 ing, however, less practised in this game than her expert 
 sister-in-law, Gertrude felt repeatedly that she was being 
 worsted, and an inner tremor which she could not master 
 
344 THE MAMMON 
 
 began to show itself in her manner. Kate, too, saw it, and 
 having no desire to humiliate her, rose to take her leave. 
 She was every inch the grande dame, and could afford to be 
 magnanimous. There was no petty meanness in her, only 
 a superb self-confidence and dignity. If Gertrude had 
 consented to humble herself from the beginning, she would 
 have liked her and taken her under her protecting wing. 
 Now they parted with artificial smiles, and pressures of 
 hands, and polite assurances of the pleasure each had 
 taken in seeing the other, and a fixed resolution never to 
 run the risk of doing it again. While the elevator bore the 
 victorious Kate down to the level of the street, where her 
 carriage drove up to the door at the very instant she 
 made her appearance, the vanquished Gertrude sat hug- 
 ging her four-year-old son, Obed, and shedding some per- 
 fectly irrational tears upon his blond head. 
 
 " Oh, you dear child," she whispered, " what would be- 
 come of your poor mamma if she didn't have you ? " 
 
 " But you have Papa and Ralph, too, mamma," objected 
 the literal Obed. 
 
 "Yes, dear, I know it," she sighed, and hugged him 
 more tightly. 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 345 
 
 CHAPTER XLII. 
 
 NEMESIS. 
 
 The removal to Torryville was being delayed by a 
 hundred unforeseen incidents. The conviction was be- 
 ginning to grow upon Horace that Kate was purposely 
 delaying it, and that she had no intention of settling per- 
 manently in the place toward which his inclinations and 
 interests were drawing him. He was sitting in his father- 
 in-law's gorgeous library (filled with handsomely bound 
 books which no one ever read) ruminating bitterly upon 
 the fate which was in store for him, if she should absolute- 
 ly refuse to accompany him to Torryville, as she had once 
 before refused to share his life in Albany. If she said no, 
 he knew it meant no, emphatically and inexorably. The 
 arrogant speech he had once made to Aleck, about mak- 
 ing other lives tributary to his own, was slowly emerging, 
 phrase by phrase, from the blue cigar smoke ; and he 
 smiled sardonically to himself at the thought of his crude 
 delusion. Kate was a charming tributary, forsooth ! She 
 insisted not only upon directing the course of her own 
 life, but of his, to boot. Unless they agreed to separate, 
 they had no choice but to patch up some sort of modus 
 vivendi; to keep on working at cross-purposes, as they had 
 hitherto been doing, was suicidal. Their lives had got to 
 run together and must take the course which the stronger 
 force in the united current determined. That was nat- 
 ure's law, against which there was no use demurring. 
 He had frequently announced this fact with much satis- 
 faction to himself and to the discomforture of his hypo- 
 thetical antagonist. But now and here was the rub a 
 horrible misgiving clutched like a chilly hand at his heart. 
 Was he the stronger force, or was Kate ? 
 
 Horace flung his cigar into a big Satsuma vase which 
 stood before the empty fireplace, and lighted another. 
 He let his eyes wander over the richly carved oaken ceil- 
 ing ; took up a newspaper which lay on the floor and at- 
 
346 THE MAMMON 
 
 tempted to read. But everything seemed stale and un- 
 profitable. If he was confronted with the alternative of 
 spending his life as a satellite of his wife's family or living 
 his own life away from her, what should he do ? It was 
 a serious question which had to be seriously weighed. 
 Why couldn't Kate be made to see that it was for her ad- 
 vantage to allow him to work out his own destiny and 
 pursue his own ambitions. It was indeed hard to com- 
 prehend how such an admirable woman as Kate on all 
 hands was conceded to be, could be so hard to live with. 
 
 He was in the midst of these despondent meditations 
 when the butler entered and handed him a neatly en- 
 graved card, bearing the name, Rev. Arthur Robbins. Now 
 that was just lacking to make his cup of bitterness over- 
 flow ! What in the mischief could the old gentleman be 
 wanting of him, unless he meant to take him to task for 
 his past delinquencies. 
 
 " You had better take this card upstairs," he said to the 
 butler ; " it is Mr. Van Schaak the gentleman wishes to 
 see." 
 
 " He asked very particularly for you, sir. He was very 
 particular indeed, sir, that it was you he wanted to see, 
 sir." 
 
 " All right. Show him in." 
 
 He repented of the words the moment he had uttered 
 them ; but of course, if Mr. Robbins had some particular 
 errand for him, dodging would be useless. He arose, as 
 the clergyman entered, and shook his hand with a rather 
 stiff and colorless manner. 
 
 "I hope you are well, sir," he said, motioning him to a 
 seat ; u Mrs. Larkin will be very happy to see you. I'll 
 send word to her and let her know you are here." 
 
 He was about to press the button of the electric bell 
 when Mr. Robbins, with some trepidation, seized him by 
 the arm. 
 
 " No, I beg of you, don't call her," he said, " the fact is, 
 I'd I'd rather not see her." 
 
 There was a note of distress in his voice which aroused 
 a sympathetic echo in his listener. Even the least emo- 
 tional of us has moods when he is impressionable. Horace 
 noted with benevolent interest how white Mr. Robbins 
 had grown, how grave and wrinkled. He looked like one 
 bowed down with grief. Of the fine intellectual smile 
 which formerly lighted up his features not a suggestion 
 was left. There was something strained and anxious in 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 347 
 
 the lines about his mouth, and his glance was full of 
 trouble. But his attire was still scrupulously neat, his 
 white necktie immaculate, and his small, well-shaped 
 feet shod with obtrusive perfection. But what impressed 
 his interlocutor most was a certain embarrassed defer- 
 ence in his manner, so different from his former cheerful 
 dignity. 
 
 They sat and fenced for awhile with the usual common- 
 places about the weather and polite inquiries concerning 
 friends and relatives. Horace took good care, however, 
 not to ask concerning the one who was uppermost in the 
 minds of both, and Mr. Robbins was obliged to introduce 
 her unsolicited. 
 
 " Yes, the weather has been very trying this spring, 
 even in Florida," he was saying ; then, after having 
 coughed apologetically into his handkerchief, he con- 
 tinued : "You know, we have been obliged to spend the 
 winter in the South on account of my daughter Bella's 
 health." 
 
 " I trust her health is improving," Horace observed, 
 awkwardly. 
 
 " No, she is dying," said Mr. Robbins, rising abruptly 
 and walking to the window. 
 
 Horace tried to intimate that he was sorry ; but the 
 words stuck in his throat. A dim sense of reproach stole 
 over him ; and a vague discomfort oppressed him. He 
 could not tell exactly whether it was his conscience that 
 made him uncomfortable, or the mere awkwardness of the 
 situation. It was quite plain to him that he had behaved 
 villainously ; but he was one of those characters to whom 
 self-approval is not absolutely indispensable to comfort. 
 He had acted for his own interest ; but an awful .query 
 loomed up in the very wake of this reflection and a dull 
 pang nestled in his heart. Had he acted for his own 
 interest ? Had he not rather, in his ruthless disregard of 
 all interests but his own, deceived and outwitted himself ? 
 What would his life have been, if he had kept faith with 
 Bella ? He saw it in a flash ; and her pale, pathetic face 
 with its anxious smile, so full of eager, fervent adoration, 
 rose out of his memory. Poor child ! She had loved him 
 indeed. And that love of hers, which he had so heartlessly 
 spurned he saw clearly in this moment how beautiful, 
 how precious it was. 
 
 When Mr. Robbins had mastered his emotion, he 
 turned again toward the man who in wrecking his daugh- 
 
348 THE MAMMON 
 
 . ter's life had wrecked his own ; and he did not curse him, 
 or threaten him with disaster and vengeance for the injury 
 he had done ; but he looked at him with uneasy embarrass- 
 ment, gave a little cough and said : 
 
 " I came to ask a favor of you, Mr. Larkin ; Bella wants 
 to see you." 
 
 His voice broke pitifully and he turned again to the 
 window. Horace got up and began to pace the floor. 
 Never in his life had he appeared so black to himself ; so 
 mean and contemptible. There was something within 
 him, like a vast weight of woe, which pressed upward and 
 threatened to overwhelm him. 
 
 " I must have your answer now," said his visitor, husk- 
 ily ; " we have not much time to lose." 
 
 Horace, without a word, went out into the hall and 
 seized his hat ; Mr. Robbins followed him. They walked 
 rapidly across the square, down Twenty-first Street to 
 Fourth Avenue and took an upto.wn horse-car. In the 
 neighborhood of Madison Avenue and Fifty-eighth Street 
 they entered a quiet family hotel and were carried by the 
 elevator to the third or fourth floor. Through a long car- 
 peted corridor, at the end of which sat a sleeping chamber- 
 maid, they reached a door, marked 149, which the clergy- 
 man noiselessly opened. The air within was pungent with 
 the odor of medicine. The shades were drawn before the 
 windows ; but the bright May sunshine filtered through, 
 revealing the usual bare hotel room with a black walnut 
 table, a rep-covered sofa, and half a dozen chairs. Pres- 
 ently a young girl with black squirrel-like eyes and a 
 sharply receding chin entered, and Horace recognized one 
 of the Rodents named Nettie. She gave him a nod over 
 her shoulder, in which he thought he detected a restrained 
 animosity. She held a whispered conversation with her 
 father ; and the latter excused himself and walked on tip- 
 toe into the adjoining room. Nettie remained standing at 
 the door and glowered at the visitor. 
 
 " I hope you feel good now," she said, bluntly. 
 
 Horace returned her glance, but for the first time in his 
 life he was at a loss for an answer. How could he blame 
 her for hating him ? What a monster of iniquity lie must 
 seem to her ! For two or three minutes this distressing 
 tete-a-tete lasted. But nothing further was said. Then 
 Mr. Robbins opened the door and beckoned to Horace, 
 who arose and walked heavily across the floor. He was 
 conscious of nothing except a olull heart-ache, and a help- 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 349 
 
 less regret that he had come. What could this meeting avail 
 him or her, now that all" was irrevocably past, and the 
 tears were shed and the anguish suffered ? He averted 
 his face, as he crossed the threshold, and waited a moment 
 before summoning courage to look. The door was softly 
 closed behind him ; a slight tremor pierced his stolidity. 
 As his eyes accustomed themselves to the dimness, his cour- 
 age again ebbed away. He knew there was a shock in store 
 for him, and a painful one. But it was too late to retreat 
 now. With a dogged resolution he turned about and 
 approached the bed. He wanted it over, and the sooner 
 the better. He had braced himself to endure anything, but 
 yet started back at the sight which met his eyes. And it 
 was a pitiful, a heart-rending sight. Propped up in pillows, 
 with an unnaturally flushed face, the bony structure of 
 which was cruelly emphasized, lay the poor little girl who 
 had flung herself in his path to be trampled down by his "' 
 ruthless feet. And yet what a touching thing was this love 
 of hers which she had given him, almost unasked, and 
 which he had held in such light esteem ! He had known 
 her heart-secret, long before she thought it revealed ; and 
 he had slighted and scorned it, and yet in a momentary mood 
 of magnanimity given it his supercilious approval. How 
 bitterly he repented of this magnanimity now ; for it was 
 that and not his scorn which had killed her. 
 
 Horace stood long before the bed, gazing at the face, 
 relieved by its high color against the pillow. The wheezy, 
 labored breathing of the invalid filled the silence. It wrung 
 his heart with pity to see how fragile she looked, how 
 wasted by disease and suffering. Her cheek-bones were 
 cruelly prominent ; and even the bones in her temples and 
 lower jaw were clearly outlined under the tense skin. 
 Her hands, which lay listlessly on the coverlid, showed their 
 anatomy with horrible suggestiveness. Only her wavy 
 blond hair was unchanged, and by contrast with her emac- 
 iated face looked too heavy for the frame to which it 
 was attached as if it had drained it of its last drop of 
 vitality. He became aware, after a while, that she was 
 conscious of his presence, and was endeavoring to speak 
 to him. But again and again her voice failed her. Her 
 eyelids seemed heavy, and she raised them with a feeble 
 effort, but presently they closed again. He fell upon his 
 knees at the side of the bed ; not from emotion, but be- 
 cause he felt her desire to speak, and was anxious to spare 
 her needless exertion, 
 
350 THE MAMMON 
 
 " I am glad you came," were the first words he distin- 
 guished ; and then after a long pause : " Horace." 
 
 He stooped down over her and listened ; but for a long 
 while no sound came ; by the moving of her fingers, he 
 guessed that she wished him to take her hand, and saw by 
 the relaxation of the tensity of her expression, that he had 
 guessed aright. 
 
 "I wanted to see you," she whispered, "because be- 
 cause I didn't want you to feel bad as I knew you 
 would Horace when I am dead." 
 
 He felt as if his heart would break. She had never 
 known how little he had cared for her; she had imagined 
 to this day that he had loved her ; she had held him guilt- 
 less and given her father the blame for having driven him 
 away. In despair, of course, and not from cold-blooded 
 calculation, had he married Kate ; and his life had been, 
 in a measure, blighted as well as hers. What a pathetic 
 romance, forsooth ; and yet he was glad that she had 
 cherished it, glad that her last days had not been embit- 
 tered with the anguish of a spurned affection. A reassur- 
 ing pressure of her hand was all the answer he could give 
 her; and a faint shadow of joy flitted across her emaci- 
 ated features. In her grateful glance there was a fond 
 proprietorship, a touching devotion. 
 
 " You know," she resumed, after another pause, " I was 
 never quite well. I was sick when I became engaged 
 to you. But but I couldn't tell you it was wrong, I 
 know but I couldn't. You remember what you said to 
 me don't you ?" 
 
 "No. I don't remember," he murmured. 
 
 The strained, anxious smile which he knew so well, or a 
 mere ghost of it, hovered about her lips, and a sudden 
 moisture clouded his eyes, and compelled him to turn 
 away, lest he should distress her by weeping. But she 
 perceived the change in his expression before he was aware 
 of it himself. 
 
 " Horace," she repeated, " I am so glad you came." 
 
 " But what was it I said to you ?" he asked, with a voice 
 which sounded strange in his own ears. 
 
 " Oh, yes," she answered with brightening eyes, " you 
 remember you said that when you married you'd want 
 first health then wealth and then a good temper. I 
 had not health but I didn't dare tell you it was wrong 
 I know it but but now I have told you so you 
 needn't feel bad for me." 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 3$ I 
 
 She spoke with painful breaks and had much difficulty 
 in articulating. Only by a pathetic effort did she succeed 
 in making the last words intelligible. Her eyes closed 
 again, and she sank into a heavy stupor. For a long while 
 he lay on his knees, holding her small hot hands, and listen- 
 ing to her labored breathing. His thoughts ranged through 
 the past, and all the scenes of his life, from his boyhood 
 and early youth, passed in panoramic procession before 
 his vision. And the more he thought, the keener grew 
 the pang of regret for that which was done and that which 
 was left undone. His soul was stirred in its depths ; and 
 dormant emotions rose in tumult and wrestled with Fate, 
 the inevitable, the inexorable. He had never dreamed 
 that he had in him such capacity for suffering. 
 
352 THE MAMMON 
 
 CHAPTER XLIII. 
 
 MUCH AT STAKE. 
 
 Horace walked about for some days as in a dream. He 
 seemed to have run his head into a noose, and the more 
 he tugged at it the more the rope cut him. At the break- 
 fast table Mr. Van Schaak read the notice of Bella's death 
 in the morning papers; and his son-in-law heard it with a 
 listless stony face. A heavy numbness had taken posses- 
 sion of him ; and it seemed to matter very little whatever 
 happened to him or to anyone else. Kate ordered the 
 carnage and called at the hotel with her mother ; but he 
 refused to accompany her. The letter of condolence which 
 he attempted to write to Mr. Robbins he was unable to 
 finish. Every phrase in it struck him as the crudest mock- 
 ery. It was like stabbing a man and then begging his 
 pardon. During the afternoon he wandered about the 
 city; and at last dropped down upon a bench in a public 
 square. There he sat trying to unravel the tangled skein 
 of his life. His strong vitality reasserted itself ; and he 
 saw the futility of his sorrow ; the uselessness of regret 
 which paralyzed action, but could not undo the wrong. 
 In the evening he had recovered his wonted composure; 
 and had fully determined what to do. If Kate refused to 
 accompany him to Torryville, he would go there without 
 her. He would offer her a separation, or a divorce, if she 
 liked, on her own terms. 
 
 Kate, who was a connoisseur of human nature, must have 
 read in the tense lines of his face the resolution which, at 
 the dinner-table, he endeavored to mask with an unwonted 
 show of amiability. For when he arose from the table, she 
 anticipated him with a request for a confidential interview. 
 
 "You have something on your mind, Horace," she said, 
 when they had retired to the privacy of the library ; " is 
 there anything I can do for you ?" 
 
 " Anything you can do for me ! " he cried with a mock- 
 ing laugh ; "well I like that." 
 
 " I am glad you like it," she retorted with exasperating 
 composure ; " but please tell me why you find it ludicrous ? " 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 353 
 
 " It is useless to talk with you, Kate," he broke out, vehe- 
 mently " you regard me as a chessman which you can move 
 about on the board at your pleasure, and which is there 
 merely to enable you to win your game. But I mean to give 
 you notice to-night that I intend to play a little game of 
 my own, no matter whether it coincides with yours or not." 
 
 " Pas de zUe, my dear, pas de zele" she warned, in her 
 gentlest society accents, " we can talk to better advantage 
 if we do not get angry. As I understand it, you are dis- 
 satisfied with me. Please, tell me what is your grievance." 
 
 Ah, she was marvellous, that Kate. She was simply im- 
 mense ! Health, wealth, and a good temper ! She had all 
 three in superlative perfection. That was the thought that 
 flashed through his head, and instantly soothed the com- 
 motion that was raging there. Kate had seen in an in- 
 stant that he was in a mood which made quarrelling dan- 
 gerous, and she refused to quarrel. So clear a head, such 
 unerring judgment how could he help admiring it ? 
 
 " If I have not misunderstood your tactics," he said, 
 forcing himself to be calm, "you intend to spring a trap 
 upon me. You do not intend to go to Torryviile." 
 
 " What I wish is one thing ; what I intend is quite another. 
 May I ask you why you are so anxious to return to that 
 stupid village ?" 
 
 " Because my whole career is bound up with my resi- 
 dence there. First, I want to go to Congress." 
 
 " Why couldn't you go to Congress from this city ? I 
 understand from father that he is quite willing, for my 
 sake, to expend the money necessary to procure you a 
 nomination." 
 
 " I am greatly obliged to him ; but I must decline. I wish 
 to owe my preferment in public life to my own talents, not 
 to your father's money." 
 
 "Ah, I see. But, apart from that, why would you decline 
 to go to Congress from this city ? " 
 
 " First, because I should have to declare that I am a 
 resident, which I am not. Secondly a Republican nomi- 
 nation, if it is for sale, is not worth buying." 
 
 " But suppose you were a Democrat." 
 
 " Excuse me, my dear, but now you are supposing a little 
 too much for my patience. What you mean to say is, sup- 
 pose I were a scalawag 
 
 " Not at all ; but I understand your position. Now, 
 may I ask, why you have set your heart on going to Con- 
 gress?" 
 
 23 
 
354 THE MAMMON 
 
 " Because," he ejaculated, raising his voice again, with an 
 irrepressible irritation, " it is my life ! Because my incli- 
 nation and my talents fit me for a public career. And 
 moreover, how am I ever to fulfil your dream of going as 
 ' diplomat to a foreign court,' if I do not first distinguish 
 myself in politics ? They do not pick diplomats out of the 
 gutter." 
 
 He knew this argument was insincere. He had no in- 
 tention in the world to accommodate himself to her plans ; 
 but all is fair in love and war. If he gained his point, dis- 
 cussion would be in order afterward. 
 
 "Now, please, /0j de zele" she begged, raising her white 
 hands again, vvarningly ; while her intelligent eyes scanned 
 his face with earnest scrutiny. For two or three minutes 
 she sat thus ; and the calm logical thoughts seemed to 
 move almost visibly behind her clear forehead. 
 
 "You have convinced me," she said, at last, rising with 
 fine dignity ; " I am ready to move to Torryville, whenever 
 you say." 
 
 " Then I say to-morrow." 
 
 " Very well ; but I should prefer the day after to-mor- 
 row." 
 
 " As you please ; the day after to-morrow." 
 
 As in all engagements of this kind Horace, though ap- 
 parently victorious, felt more than half defeated. He took 
 no satisfaction whatever in his triumph, for he knew that 
 in generalship he was no match for Kate. The ruse by 
 which he had brought her to terms might prove a seed of 
 dragon teeth from which might spring no end of unpleasant 
 consequences. She might, any day, have a disagreeable 
 surprise in store for him. His mood was therefore any- 
 thing but hilarious when, on the appointed morning, he 
 drove up to the Grand Central Depot, with a tiger and a 
 coachman on the box, sitting upon their folded coats, and 
 all the pomp and circumstance of which prosperous re- 
 publicanism is capable. Kate, on the other hand, was as 
 serene as the lovely June weather, and gazed into the sun- 
 lit space with that superb indifference which no mere 
 plebeian can hope to attain. A Swiss nurse, dressed in 
 Alsatian peasant costume, sat on the seat opposite, holding 
 a bundle of precious laces and ribbons, containing among 
 other things, a baby. As they dismounted from the car- 
 riage at the entrance to the waiting rooms of the New York 
 Central Railroad, Horace observed an undertaker's wagon, 
 through the open door of which a long pine box was visible. 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 355 
 
 He had just stepped out upon the sidewalk and was about 
 to conduct his wife into the waiting-room, when he met 
 Mr. Dallas, of Torryville, and Mr. Robbins, both with black 
 crape on their hats. Behind them came Graves, the tanner, 
 leading Nettie Robbins, who was enveloped from head to 
 foot in a long crape veil. Horace, with a cold chill creep- 
 ing over him, was about to press on past them. But Kate 
 stopped to speak to her uncle and to utter the conventional 
 phrases of sympathy and condolence. He sought refuge 
 again in his wanted stolidity ; but when the pine box was 
 lifted from the wagon by four men and carried past him to- 
 ward the baggage office, it grew black before his eyes, and 
 the pavement upon which he stood billowed under his feet. 
 An irrepressible anguish quivered through every fibre of his 
 being ; his brain was in a whirl and he was on the point of 
 losing consciousness. But with a violent effort of will he 
 collected himself ; and with set teeth and an ashy pale face 
 watched the progress of the four men, and Mr. Dallas's 
 lugubrious alertness as he ran about them, warning them 
 to be careful, and the pitiful vacuity and stunned stare of 
 the old clergyman's face. Was he Horace Larkin re- 
 sponsible for this calamity ? Did he have this sin on his 
 conscience ? He hoped to God that he had not. With de- 
 sparing tenacity he clung to her assurance that she had 
 always been ill, and that the end must have come soon, 
 whether he had crossed her path or not. But what was life 
 and what was death, after all ? What did it matter, if the 
 one was prolonged or the other hastened by a few brief 
 years. The sunshine, as it beat upon his eyes, seemed a 
 mockery ; and the world a cruel, unreal sham. 
 
 It was time at last to board the train, and Kate, with dec- 
 orous seriousness, bade her uncle adieu. Happily she had 
 engaged an entire palace car for herself and her retinue ; 
 while the mourning party was assigned to another. But 
 hour after hour, during the long day, the thought pursued 
 Horace of the dreadful freight which the car in front of 
 him was carrying. His imagination conjured up the spec- 
 tacle with painful vividness and with shuddering details. 
 The old superstition of the sailors occurred to him ; that 
 the ship that carries a corpse in its hold will be wrecked. 
 His life would henceforth carry a corpse in its hold. Did 
 that argue disaster ? He entered his new house, which 
 seemed bound up with his fortune and his hopes of happi- 
 ness, and he had not thought of providing a closet for a 
 skeleton. Well, life is a curious affair. 
 
THE MAMMON 
 
 CHAPTER XLIV. 
 
 KATE'S CAMPAIGN. 
 
 Horace had for years been " laying his pipes "for the con- 
 gressional campaign upon which he now entered. He had 
 been practically sure of the nomination, since his only pos- 
 sible rival, the late representative, had, by the Larkin in- 
 fluence, been appointed minister to a South American 
 republic, and after infinite trouble had been induced to 
 accept. It seemed now that he had tolerably plain sailing ; 
 as it was scarcely conceivable that any one the Democrats 
 could nominate would have even a fighting chance. This 
 was generally conceded in Torryville, when Horace and his 
 wife made their triumphal entry into the town in the be- 
 ginning of June and moved into their palatial mansion on 
 the western hill slope. There was no disputing now, that 
 Horace was the first citizen of Torryville. The venerable 
 Obed was completely outshone, and, what was more re- 
 markable, accepted his eclipse with philosophical serenity. 
 He shook his head occasionally at the extravagance of 
 Horace's establishment and the fast pace at which he was 
 going ; but he still trusted him implicitly, and worked to 
 advance his interests. Mrs. Larkin, who was in worse 
 health than ever and determined to quarrel with Kate, was 
 firmly held in check, in spite of her lamentations. She had 
 a hundred grievances against her nephew's wife, who, she 
 insisted, treated her like a pickpocket. When the elder 
 lady (in accordance with the custom of the town) went to 
 spend the day with Mrs. Horace in her new house and nat- 
 urally expected to examine her clothes, and give advice 
 concerning servants and housekeeping, she found herself 
 politely snubbed. Kate was not in the least confidential, 
 and though, after some coaxing, she consented to have her 
 maid exhibit her wardrobe to Mrs. Larkin's wondering eyes, 
 she professed an ignorance concerning the cost of her 
 dresses which her visitor regarded as transparent pretence. 
 And it was not only Mrs. Larkin who inclined to this opin- 
 ion. Mrs. Dallas, Mrs. Graves, and the Professors' wives, 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 357 
 
 in fact all the ladies who had any pretension to social 
 standing, found Mrs. Horace stuck-up and altogether dis- 
 agreeable. They had all looked forward to her arrival with 
 the pleasantest anticipations ; and each one of them had 
 determined to gain her confidence, and become her very 
 particular friend. It was therefore doubly bitter to have 
 their first overtures so coldly received. 
 
 The fact was, they did not understand her, and she did 
 not understand them. It would never have occurred to 
 Kate that this Mrs. Dallas, who said "you was," arid whose 
 father had kept a livery stable, could have the audacity to 
 aspire to become an intimate in her house. And as for the 
 rest, she was perfectly willing to be polite and even friendly 
 to them, in her own condescending way, but if they pre- 
 sumed upon her courtesy to pry into her closets, give im- 
 pertinent advice, and even converse with her servants, she 
 had no choice but to keep them at arms' length. The time- 
 honored country custom, to which many ladies were ad- 
 dicted, to drop in early in the forenoon and spend the entire 
 day in gossip and espionage, was a special affliction to her. 
 After having been entrapped once or twice into such a posi- 
 tion, she grew very wary, and denied herself to visitors who 
 showed any disposition to be importunate. She sent word 
 by the servant that she was ill, or that she was not at home, 
 although all the town knew of her comings and goings. 
 For she never went out on foot ; and her equipage, with its 
 glittering trappings, was too dazzling to pass anywhere un- 
 noticed. Its passage through the streets or along the Lake 
 drive was an event which was looked forward to and dis- 
 cussed for an hour when it was past. 
 
 It was scarcely to be wondered at that Horace was much 
 annoyed at his wife's unpopularity. He saw plainly 
 enough that she was imperilling the chances of his elec- 
 tion. .Before the summer was half over he was credibly 
 informed that his friend Dallas was playing him false, and 
 was nursing a promising little boom of his own. It was of 
 very little use that he " made himself solid" with butchers 
 and bakers and candlestick makers, lent money on bad 
 mortgages to influential Irishmen, and opened a free read- 
 ing room for the Firemen's Association ; a spark of ani- 
 mosity against him was smouldering in the breasts of his 
 townsmen, and might become a blaze before the meeting 
 of the nominating convention. An American country 
 town is a crystallization of the Democratic spirit ; it is as 
 free from snobbishness as any aggregation of men on the 
 
THE MAMMON* 
 
 face of the globe. The candidate's magnificent house, in- 
 stead of making him popular, made him suspected ; and 
 his superb carriage and flunkeys aroused open hostility. 
 His wife's attitude toward the ladies of the town capped 
 the climax by raising him enemies in every household. 
 And yet, strange to say, Kate was far from divining what 
 a storm of displeasure was raging against her in the bo- 
 soms of the Torryville ladies. She flattered herself that 
 she had treated them very handsomely, and that they had 
 reason to be grateful that she had unbent so far in her de- 
 sire to make herself agreeable to them. When Horace 
 intimated to her that they cherished sentiments of an op- 
 posite kind, she was frankly astonished. 
 
 "You know, of course," she said, " they could scarcely 
 expect me to take them to my bosom and make friends of 
 them." 
 
 "Yes, that was exactly what they expected," her husband 
 replied. 
 
 " But surely you agree with me that such an expectation 
 is preposterous," she exclaimed, with unwonted animation. 
 
 "No, I can't say I do." 
 
 " Would you, perhaps, have me go around and talk poli- 
 tics with my butcher, as you do ; and smile graciously on 
 that absurd little bookseller Dabney, who insists upon 
 shaking hands with me when I enter his shop ? " 
 
 " I don't see that it would hurt you to shake hands with 
 him. He is a very decent sort of fellow." 
 
 " I must say, Horace, I have often been ashamed of you, 
 when I have seen you flattering trades-people ; joking 
 with them, and treating them as if you regarded them as 
 your equals. But I have consented to overlook it, be- 
 cause I thought perhaps it was a political necessity. But 
 when you demand that I, too, shall demean myself to such 
 practices I think it is time for me to protest." ' 
 
 " My dear," he ejaculated with humorous despair (for 
 he knew by this time her limitations), " I don't demand 
 anything of you ; but only ask you not to snub people any 
 more than you have to." 
 
 "Snub people, Horace ! Why, I don't snub them at all. 
 If there is anything I pride myself on, it is my tact in deal- 
 ing with the lower classes. I never have any difficulty 
 with my servants because I know how to keep them in 
 their place. I am kind to them, but I let them know 
 where they belong." 
 
 "Yes, I see," he answered, ironically, "you have tact in 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 359 
 
 dealing with the lower clawsses" (he exaggerated her broad, 
 English a). "Well, my dear, you are the American hu- 
 morist, sure enough. I shudder to think what would have 
 become of you if you had lived in the time of the French 
 Revolution. The lower classes ! It is too good !" 
 
 He gave a loud, mirthless laugh, thrust his hands into 
 his pockets, and with a desperate fling of his head paced 
 across the floor. There was something almost pathetic 
 in her hallucination, and in her utter alienation from the 
 spirit of her country, and her incapacity to comprehend 
 its manifestations. And yet, though he almost detested 
 her exclusive and aristocratic sentiment, he had a vague 
 sense of flattery that this high and mighty lady, who 
 looked down upon all her kind, had deigned to honor him 
 with her favor and confidence. He knew how easily this 
 favor was forfeited ; how a mal apropos remark, implying 
 the remotest soitp^on of personal criticism, or a trifling 
 gaucherie, or unintentional incivility would freeze her up 
 and make her dumb for an entire day. It was an impious 
 desire, but for all that he could not help wishing that he 
 possessed the power to make her one-tenth as miserable as 
 she sometimes made him. It was not a mere vindictive 
 desire to retaliate, but rather an assertion of his self-re- 
 spect and an aspiration for that unattainable goal marital 
 equality. 
 
 It would make an endless chapter if mention were to 
 be made of all the comical and tragical incidents occa- 
 sioned by his desire to keep on good terms both with Kate 
 and the town. He constituted himself her ambassador, 
 and the mediator between her and the offended commu- 
 nity. He exercised all his ingenuity in putting the best 
 interpretation upon her words and actions. It was especial- 
 ly her refusal to see people when they called which made 
 bad blood ; and when she sent word to Mrs. Graves that 
 she was ill, he sometimes, in order to enforce belief, set 
 himself to corroborating her statement by incidentally de- 
 scribing her symptoms. Then, perhaps, fifteen minutes 
 later, Mrs. Professor Dowd would call, and Horace would 
 repeat to her his regrets that his wife's illness would pre- 
 vent her from seeing her ; when lo ! Kate would appear, 
 fresh as a lily, and greet the visitor with serene affability. 
 After a few experiences of this sort, he grew so wary that 
 he refused to commit himself concerning his wife's health, 
 and once when Mrs. Professor Wharton asked how Mrs. 
 Larkin was he answered with embarrassment: 
 
360 THE MAMMON 
 
 " She is quite that is I am not sure but I will send 
 the servant up to inquire." 
 
 It was of no use that he argued with Kate that the social 
 tactics of the metropolis were inapplicable in a town of 
 twelve thousand people, where everybody knew what his 
 neighbor had for dinner. A certain amount of mendacity 
 might be practised with impunity among a million inhabi- 
 tants which among a thousand might be unsafe. Metro- 
 politan mendacity was unsuited for country life. The 
 special occasion which called forth this argument was an 
 invitation which Kate had already accepted to an evening 
 party at Mr. Dallas's. The dress she was to wear was 
 already spread out upon the bed, and her maid stood ready 
 to unlace her. 
 
 11 Horace," she called into the next room, where he was 
 struggling with an obstreperous bootjack, " I really can't 
 go. You know as well as I that it is going to be very 
 stupid." 
 
 He appeared in the door in his shirt-sleeves, perspir- 
 ing, with his hair down in his eyes, and one boot in his 
 hand. 
 
 " What is the matter ?" he asked. 
 
 She motioned to the chambermaid to leave the room, 
 and then repeated her declaration. 
 
 "You may tell Mrs. Dallas," she added, blandly, "that I 
 am not at all well, otherwise it would have given me great 
 pleasure to be present at her entertainment." 
 
 He stared at her for a while in dumb amazement. 
 
 "Any more lies you want me to tell ?" he blurted out, 
 rudely. 
 
 " Really, Mr. Larkin, I must decline to answer. I am 
 not accustomed to such language." 
 
 "And I am not accustomed to hear women lie." 
 
 " Indeed " (with haughty irony) ; "well, you know you 
 are not an authority on social usages." 
 
 "Perhaps not, but I have still some authority left of 
 another kind. When I tell you that I desire you very 
 much to go to Mrs. Dallas's ; that it is of the utmost im- 
 portance for me politically that you should not offend 
 her, are you, then, going to persevere in your refusal ?" 
 
 " I have told you once, Mr. Larkin, that I am not go- 
 ing." 
 
 " But when I command you to go ?" he cried, angrily ; 
 but the words were hardly out of his mouth, before he 
 comprehended how foolish they were. To threaten with 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 361 
 
 an authority which he could not enforce was wretched 
 policy. 
 
 " You forget yourself, Mr. Larkin," was her reply, ut- 
 tered with freezing dignity, and he knew that all further 
 parley was useless. 
 
 But this hate this wild hate that flared up in his breast, 
 when, after having closed the door, he sat upon his bed, 
 desperately clutching his newly blacked boot, and shaking 
 it against the ceiling ! Was she going to wreck his ca- 
 reer, merely out of caprice, or to gratify a feminine spite ? 
 That was not like her, to be sure; but she appeared to be 
 capable of a good many things with which he had not 
 credited her. He was fairly frightened at the wrath which 
 seethed and boiled within him ! Was all that he had lived 
 for to come to naught, for this woman's sake ? The boot 
 which he held in his hand, and which had, by this time, 
 blacked both his face and his shirt-bosom, flew with a bang 
 against the hard-wood paneling of the wall opposite, where 
 it left a deep mark. For the good-natured and amiable 
 fellow that he had always held himself to be, this was 
 rather anomalous behavior. But life was dealing out- 
 rageously with him, rousing all the latent violence depos- 
 ited in his soul by barbaric ancestors. The holy St. An- 
 thony himself could not have endured such conduct in his 
 wife without wishing to strangle her. But then, to be 
 sure, St. Anthony was a bachelor. 
 
 The thought of her who was dead came into his mind, 
 and he grew calm ; but it was a calm filled with bitterness 
 and vain regrets. 
 
362 THE MAMMON 
 
 CHAPTER XLV. 
 
 THE TRIALS OF A CANDIDATE. 
 
 One would have supposed that when such words had 
 been spoken and such feelings aroused, life under the same 
 roof would be impossible. But in matrimony nothing is 
 impossible. The alternative to people who are ambitious 
 and have children is so terrible as to be no alternative. Kate 
 exhibited a stiff and superb aloofness for three or four 
 days, but then she began to tire of her lonely dignity ; and 
 at last she unbent so far as to make remarks at the table 
 about the weather and other novel topics. Horace, though 
 he had sworn never to be friendly to her again, could not 
 make-up his mind to snub her, first, because he lacked J;he 
 courage, and secondly, because he was, at heart, more 
 anxious for peace than she was. And so it came to pass 
 that one day, when he was sorely harassed by the pros- 
 pect of political disaster, she entered his library, and took 
 her seat in one of the great leather-covered easy chairs. 
 She talked politics with him in her usual clear and dis- 
 passionate fashion, asked him questions, the intelligence 
 of which fairly startled him, and aroused again all his ad- 
 miration for her beauty and cleverness. She had as good 
 a brain as any man, he reflected ; nay, how many of his 
 friends were there whose cerebral machinery was in such 
 perfect order ? 
 
 "You have led me to suppose," she remarked, afterhalf 
 an hour's conversation, "that I have injured your political 
 chances, and I should not wonder if you are right." 
 
 "Well," he answered, with careless magnanimity, 
 " there's no use crying over spilt milk. You were made 
 in a different mould from these people here, and you can't 
 help offending them." 
 
 "Then you have given up the contest ?" she inquired, 
 with sudden animation. 
 
 "Not at all. But you mustn't be surprised if I am de- 
 feated. My only chance is to pull through on the Presi- 
 dential ticket ; for the district is Republican ; and if I am 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 363 
 
 scratched in Torryville, I may have enough of a majority 
 outside of this county to make up for it." 
 
 "Would $25,000 improve your prospects?" 
 
 He opened his eyes with joyous wonder. This was 
 help in the eleventh hour. It would have comported 
 better with his dignity if he had been able to conceal his 
 delight, but the proposal took him so entirely by surprise 
 that he could not disguise the sense of happy relief it gave 
 him. 
 
 " Kate," he cried, " I am not going to pretend to be 
 better than I am. $25,000 would put me on my pins again 
 at a jump." 
 
 " Here's my check for the amount," said Kate, handing 
 him a piece of paper which she had kept folded up in her 
 hand ; "it is my contribution to your campaign expenses." 
 
 " Thanks, Kate ; it is very good of you to take such an 
 interest in my affairs." 
 
 " Your affairs are my affairs," she declared, rising and 
 moving toward the door. " But perhaps," she added, fac- 
 ing him again with her fine quiet smile, " you wouldn't 
 mind telling me how you are going to use this money ?" 
 
 " I am going to make friends of the Mammon of Un- 
 righteousness," he answered, with a quizzical look. 
 "You've got to fight the devil with fire, and mammon 
 with mammon." 
 
 His wife's magnanimity in this instance quite dazzled 
 Horace. He had been brought up frugally, and had early 
 been impressed with the value of money. It almost hurt 
 him at times to see how lavishly she spent her wealth on 
 things which he regarded as utterly superfluous. Nay, 
 odd as it may seem, one of the trials of his new estate was 
 his inability to habituate himself to the scale of expendi- 
 ture befitting a millionaire. From old habit he practised 
 all sorts of small economies, such as using a match twice, 
 when there was a fire in the room, tearing off the blank 
 half of a letter sheet, etc. If he saw a pin on the floor he 
 always picked it up, and stuck it into the lapel of his coat ; 
 and though Kate frequently depleted his arsenal, by throw- 
 ing the whole collection into the fire, he always started a 
 new one the following day. His coats and trousers, which 
 he found it harder to part with the older they grew, also 
 had a mysterious way of disappearing ; and new clothes, 
 accompanied by preposterous bills, arrived simultaneously 
 from Adrian's tailor in New York. From long experience 
 he knew how futile it was to remonstrate with Kate on 
 
364 THE MAMMON" 
 
 such extravagance ; for her supercilious smile and her offer 
 to settle the bills were harder to put up with than his 
 enforced dudishriess. Yet so far from giving himself airs 
 with his modish attire, in the presence of his simple neigh- 
 bors, he was half ashamed of himself, and had a constant 
 desire to apologize. 
 
 It dawned upon him gradually that Kate had made up 
 her mind to remodel him with a view to his future diplo- 
 matic calling ; and the question seemed worth debating 
 how far he ought to -accommodate himself to this process 
 of transformation. 
 
 He determined, of course, in the first instance to oppose 
 it with all his might ; and plumed himself not a little on 
 his successful resistance to her proposition to have him 
 part his hair in the middle. It would ruin him politically, 
 he declared, if he were to appear in Torryville with his 
 coarse bristles divided in the style of the Prince of Wales. 
 It would subject him to no end of ridicule, and blight his 
 career. As a mere joke, however, he allowed her to 
 experiment a little with his hair ; chiefly because it was so 
 very flattering to have her take such an interest in his 
 appearance. With a look of sheepish resignation he 
 stood before the mirror, while she made two stiff ivory 
 brushes promenade over his cranium with ruthless energy. 
 And he scarcely noticed, or resolutely refused to notice, 
 that after each such experiment, the partition crept a little 
 further up his skull ; his mustache acquired a brisker and 
 more aspiring aspect, and his whole exterior an indefinable 
 air of chic. 
 
 It is not unlikely that these concessions to his better 
 half injured Horace in the campaign in the active prep- 
 aration of which he spent the entire summer. He soon 
 found that it would be dangerous to rely upon his old 
 popularity ; but he acquired instead the reputation of be- 
 ing a master in " organization, " which is a euphemism for 
 all those agencies and influences which can ill bear the light 
 of publicity. The nomination, which came within an inch 
 of slipping through his fingers, he secured by "organiza- 
 tion;" and during the months of September and October 
 his agents worked up the district with a thoroughness 
 which had never before been equalled. It was virtually a 
 house to house canvass ; with arguments, both material 
 and intellectual, in each case adapted to the character of 
 the elector. The candidate himself appeared but twice 
 during the campaign in public, and made then the neces- 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 365 
 
 sary revision of his exterior, wearing ill-fitting clothes and 
 restoring his hair to its pristine rusticity. This was in re- 
 sponse to the many allusions in the Democratic press to 
 his aristocratic proclivities and princely style of living. 
 The speeches he made were brief and made no particular 
 sensation. They were merely a vehement reiteration of 
 the party programme. He was no longer in touch with 
 the people as he had formerly been ; he missed their spon- 
 taneous roar of applause and even the affectionate disre- 
 spect with which, of old, they were wont to greet him. 
 Altogether he was in an unpleasant frame of mind and saw 
 omens of disaster in every insignificant incident. Thus, one 
 day, he felt the cold perspiration start on his brow, while 
 overhearing a conversation between two Irish politicians 
 who were supposed to control a considerable portion of 
 "the liquor vote." 
 
 " Larrkin," said the one, " lie's gone back on the byes, 
 begorra ; and it's the byes '11 go back on him on eliction 
 day." 
 
 " Oh, ye be blamed/' retorted the other, in whom 
 Horace recognized a chronic pensioner, "ye talk loik a 
 fool. It's savin' his money he is fur eliction day." 
 
 " Oh, the divil he is," shouted the first with a derisive 
 laugh ; " if he's a-savin his cash, its because he knows he's 
 goin' to be bate." 
 
 It then occurred to Horace that, in his attention to the 
 remoter parts of his district, he had perhaps neglected 
 Torryville ; and a check for $10,000 which he procured 
 from his father-in-law, was during the next week diffused 
 among the Hibernian clubs. An organ was presented to 
 the African Methodist Church, a hall was rented and fitted 
 up for the local German Turnverein, and several hundred 
 volumes of books were added to the Larkin Town Library. 
 
 While the candidate was thus absorbed in his political 
 labors, his wife amused herself as best she could. It had 
 not been her choice to spend the summer in Torryville, 
 but she had recognized the necessity, and gracefully acqui- 
 esced. Having exhausted the pleasures of driving and 
 horse-back riding, she was persuaded by Professor Rams- 
 dale to try sailing, and when Horace marvelled at her being 
 able to spend an entire afternoon in a boat with that " stu- 
 pid, fish-eyed lunkhead," she declared that she did not 
 find it difficult, because "she liked dumb animals." 
 
 In the beginning of October Mr. and Mrs. Van Schaak 
 arrived, and there were a series of dinner-parties. But 
 
366 THE MAMMON 
 
 these afforded no relaxation to the harassed candidate, but 
 rather an additional annoyance. Kate had established a 
 standard of brilliancy for him to which he was bound to 
 live up; and if he showed a disposition to rest upon his 
 laurels, she spurred him up by questions and direct appeals. 
 She absolutely demanded that he should, so to speak, vin- 
 dicate her wisdom in having married him on every occa- 
 sion ; and in every phrase he uttered demonstrate the 
 possession of the intellect with which she credited him. 
 Now it is quite possible that during the fatigue and worry 
 of this vexatious campaign he had not his faculties entirely 
 at his command, and in endeavoring to come up to her re- 
 quirements made unsuccessful attempts at being funny. 
 Kate's face, like the most sensitive barometer, showed him 
 then the state of the atmosphere, and the weather proba- 
 bilities for the next twenty-four hours. It was observed 
 by the quiet Ramsdale, that after a dinner at which he had 
 not shone, the Honorable Horace seemed never anxious to 
 get home. And this was scarcely to be wondered at ; for 
 Kate proved herself, on such occasions, the mistress of a 
 certain scant, but cruelly cutting vocabulary, which some- 
 times wounded her lord's self-respect to the quick. He 
 could never quite comprehend this contradiction in her 
 character ; that from others she demanded for him the ut- 
 most respect, while she herself, in private, was capable of 
 treating him like a school-boy or a pickpocket. 
 
 " Mr. Larkin," she said to him, when after the Honor- 
 able Obed's dinner-party they found themselves together 
 in matrimonial solitude ; " I was ashamed of you to-night. 
 For an intellectual man, I thought you made a very poor 
 show. You appeared as heavy and poky as if you had 
 not a spark of wit." 
 
 " But my dear," he answered with unwonted meekness ; 
 "didn't you tell me, the night before last, after our own 
 dinner, that when I made jokes, I appeared undignified 
 and silly. To-night I thought I would not run that risk ; 
 and so I introduced serious topics of conversation ; and as 
 it appeared to me I held my own very creditably." 
 
 " No, you did not, Professor Dowd routed you entirely 
 in that discussion about the duty of the state to care for 
 the weak." 
 
 " You must excuse me, but I don't think so." 
 
 And now followed a recapitulation of the argument, end- 
 ing in personal recrimination. 
 
 " My idea of table talk," Kate finished, summing up the 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 367 
 
 case in her clear and dispassionate way, " is that it should 
 be neither silly nor profound. A certain lightness of touch 
 is essential. People don't go to dinner-parties to be in- 
 structed, but to be amused. If a man has wit he can dis- 
 cuss almost anything and make it entertaining. I remember 
 once reading of Gladstone, that he was heard discussing, 
 between the oysters and the coffee, French cookery, trans- 
 lations of Homer, the excavations at Nineveh, Parisian 
 bonnets, college athletics, the early church in Great Brit- 
 ain, horse-racing, and Egyptian hieroglyphics, and that he 
 appeared to be equally at home and equally felicitous on 
 all these topics." 
 
 It may have been in consequence of the unusual exer- 
 tions attendant upon these dinner-parties, that Mrs. Obed 
 Larkin suddenly died of an apoplectic stroke in the latter 
 part of the month. She had a funeral that would have re- 
 joiced her heart, if she could have witnessed it ; for out of 
 respect to the Founder, all the faculty and students of the 
 University accompanied her to the grave, forming a pro- 
 cession which covered half a mile of the road from the town 
 to the cemetery. The gloom which this sad event cast 
 over the family was not relished by old Mr, Van Schaak, 
 who therefore returned to New York without awaiting the 
 issue of the election. As it was, moreover, a presidential 
 year, he was half inclined to depart from his usual habit 
 and honor one or the other of the candidates with his vote. 
 He had a long private interview with Kate before tak- 
 ing his leave ; and it must have been an exciting topic 
 which they discussed, for the old gentleman looked as red 
 as a lobster when he issued forth from his daughter's 
 apartments. 
 
 The week preceding an election is never a pleasant one 
 to peace-loving citizens. Brass-bands, fish-horns, and dis- 
 cordant cheering made the night hideous ; bonfires were 
 burnt on the public square, and parades and torchlight 
 processions imparted an unwonted animation to the quiet 
 village streets. Men in fantastic regalia rushed about 
 with sooty perspiring faces, yelling for their favorite can- 
 didate, and the ubiquitous small boy formed the tail of 
 all processions and cheered impartially for all candidates. 
 When finally the first Tuesday in November made an end 
 of this pandemonium, all the community drew a sigh of 
 relief. The average citizen, strong partisan though lie 
 was, smiled at his zeal and was reconciled to any result, 
 provided it was decisive. Only Dallas and his little gang, 
 
368 THE MAMMON 
 
 who were suspected of " knifing " their own congressional 
 nominee, the Honorable Horace Larkin, were so chagrined 
 at his election that they forgot to rejoice in their national 
 victory. It was small comfort to know that the obnoxious 
 gentleman ran 2,800 votes behind his ticket, and that his 
 majority was but 101. This had so obviously been the 
 occasion to kill him off and relegate him forever to obscu- 
 rity ; and to have come so near to this result, without yet 
 attaining it, was doubly bitter. 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 369 
 
 CHAPTER XLVI. 
 
 "THE CLOVEN FOOT." 
 
 Aleck Larkin's novel, " The Cloven Foot," after many 
 vain wanderings, found at last a publisher. Like a mad- 
 man the happy author rushed home on the day when he 
 received the letter informing him of its acceptance. He 
 spent an evening of absurd hilarity with his wife and chil- 
 dren, talking the most rapturous nonsense and embracing 
 promiscuously every one who came in his path. It was 
 only Gertrude's timely warning which saved him from dem- 
 onstrating his joy in the same impressive manner to the 
 chambermaid. At dinner he cracked a bottle of champagne 
 and made a speech, which was a triumph of unconscious 
 humor. To Gertrude, however, it seemed beautiful, elo- 
 quent, and perfectly rational. She felt more convinced than 
 ever that Aleck was a great man ; and she began to swell 
 agreeably with an historic importance, like Tasso's Leonora 
 or Dante's Beatrice. Life had yet something in store for 
 her. When the novel was published, nobody could fail to 
 see what a wonderful work it was. She had told Aleck so, 
 all along, encouraged him when he lost heart ; and by her 
 sincere praise spurred him on toward its completion. How 
 often he had told her that, without her, the book would 
 and could never have been written ! And she knew that 
 this was true ; and some day, perhaps, the world too would 
 know it ; and then her title to glory would be secure. The 
 time might even come, a hateful little afterthought sug- 
 gested, when she might return her sister-in-law's patron- 
 age with interest ; and she saw herself move with queenly 
 dignity through gorgeously lighted apartments, distribut- 
 ing benevolent nods and smiles, a la Kate, to a respectfully 
 admiring multitude. 
 
 It was three months before Christmas that the book ap- 
 peared ; and although it caused no great commotion in 
 literary circles, it yet had something more than a succes 
 (festime. The influential magazines and papers, as a rule, 
 spoke well of it ; one or two reviewers (among whom Aleck's 
 24 
 
370 THE MAMMON 
 
 journalistic debtor of long ago) indulged in extravagant 
 prophecies regarding his future ; and some pitiless humor- 
 ist, seeking whom he might devour, fell foul of him and 
 held him up to ridicule. He entirely lacked the heart to 
 show this latter production to his wife, and feigned a fever- 
 ish hilarity, in order to conceal from her the pain which it 
 caused him. But he was only moderately successful in this 
 pious fraud. Seeing that something was wrong, she put 
 him to bed in spite of his protests, and clapped mustard 
 leaves on his feet. She had read in the papers that there 
 had been several cases of typhoid in the neighborhood and 
 she feared that Aleck had made himself liable to an attack 
 by overwork and excitement. When the fever failed to 
 declare itself, the next day, he was permitted to get up ; but 
 for a whole week he was treated like an invalid and pam- 
 pered with delicacies and anxious tenderness. After that, 
 he vowed he would show his wife the unfavorable as well 
 as the favorable criticisms, but when the next of the latter 
 order fell into his hands, he came to the conclusion that she 
 would inevitably exaggerate its importance ; and that it 
 would be cruel to inflict upon her needless pain. There 
 was especially one sneering and supercilious notice from 
 a very authoritative journal which burned in his pocket 
 and caused him untold discomfort. It seemed, for a while, 
 a duty to show this to Gertrude, lest she should form an 
 exaggerated idea of his success. But he knew so perfectly 
 well that, in her mind, it would blot out all her pleasure in 
 the book ; it would convert his fair success into the most 
 abject failure ; nay, he feared that it might open her eyes 
 to the undeniable weaknesses of his performance and damn 
 it irretrievably in her estimation. She was not capable of 
 moderate judgments. He was in her sight either a genius 
 or a miserable bungler. There were no intermediate de- 
 grees. And who will blame him for refusing to exchange 
 the former character for the latter ? He found it so pleas- 
 ant to be a hero in his own family ; to have incense burned 
 to him ; to have his modesty deprecated by a fond convic- 
 tion, on his wife's part, that it was but the crowning adorn- 
 ment of greatness. 
 
 The final awakening, if awakening it was, from this de- 
 lightful dream of fame occurred six months after the pub- 
 lication of " The Cloven Foot." Then the publisher's 
 statement arrived, showing a sale of six hundred and fifty- 
 seven copies. As, according to the contract, the author 
 was to renounce his copyright on the first one thousand 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 371 
 
 copies sold, there was not a cent due to him ; and as, more- 
 over, he had rashly guaranteed a sale of one thousand, he 
 had the further prospect of paying one or two hundred 
 dollars for his courtship of the muses. He spent two weeks 
 of absolute torture before he could make up his mind to 
 confess this humiliating state of aifairs to Gertrude ; and he 
 was prepared for tears, reproaches, and accusations, all of 
 which he was resolved to bear with guilty resignation. But 
 how great was his amazement when the incalculable Ger- 
 trude, instead of the role of the accuser, assumed that of 
 the comforter. She seated herself upon his lap, and while 
 twirling his mustache with a thoughtful air, told him 
 all manner of charming things about the inability of the 
 world to appreciate true greatness, about the tragic fate of 
 genius in general, and the ultimate bitter-sweet revenge of 
 a posthumous renown. She spoke of Keats and Shelley, 
 and although he failed to see any similarity between his lot 
 and theirs, her words yet aroused in him a sense of meri- 
 torious martyrdom. He saw his imaginary works em- 
 balmed in dignified library editions, which were much 
 praised but seldom read ; and usurped for the nonce a 
 chapter in some future History of American Literature 
 among those writers whose illustrious gifts had only se- 
 cured recognition, when it could benefit them no more. 
 
 It did not occur to him that her contentment was simu- 
 lated. That she too had been building castles in the air, 
 which now came tumbling down about her ears, never 
 once entered his head. He did not possess the ingenuity 
 to connect certain mysterious letters he had received from 
 real-estate dealers with any project of hers, which now 
 must come to naught. He had thought it rather odd that 
 people of whom he had never heard should beg to inform 
 him that they would be happy to rent him an admirably 
 situated, and completely furnished country place at Islip, 
 or Irvington or Bar Harbor, with stable, carriages, etc., 
 for the very moderate sum of $4,000 or $6,000 or $8,000, as 
 the case might be. But he ascribed this eccentricity, on 
 their part, to the zeal of their agents, which often outran 
 their discretion. If he had dreamed that Gertrude, out 
 of the proceeds of his book, had expected to rent a pleas- 
 ant summer home, where they might live in freedom and 
 contented isolation, the financial failure of his enterprise 
 would have grieved him more deeply. For he knew 
 well what a trial the summer was to her, in second-rate 
 Long Island boarding-houses, crowded with vulgar and 
 
3/2 THE MAMMON 
 
 aggressive people, whose one aim seemed to be to prove 
 to you that they were quite as good as you were, and 
 probably " a blamed sight better." She was refined and 
 sensitive ; not given to be autobiographical, and receiving 
 autobiographical confidences on short acquaintance with 
 a certain reserve which aroused animosity. She was a 
 solitary nature and had never quite acquired the tone of 
 easy intercourse with her own sex. The awful democracy 
 ' of the summer boarding-house seemed therefore positively 
 infernal to her in its capacity for inflicting suffering. 
 
 It was far past the usual hour for retiring when Ger- 
 trude, with a lugubrious enjoyment of her unsuspected 
 sacrifice, rose from her husband's lap, smoothed her hair 
 before the mirror, and declared with a laugh that she 
 wanted no more nonsense, and that it was time he should 
 " behave." It was her habit to charge to his account all 
 " foolishness," by which was meant undignified demon- 
 strations of affection; and though at times he knew him- 
 self innocent as to the initiative he never demurred against 
 such charges. For, as has been hinted, she was terribly 
 sensitive ; and, if he was to be trusted, had the most per- 
 verse memory in the United States. The student-lamp 
 upon the table Was growing dimmer, and threatened to go 
 out. A cold February rain was beating against the win- 
 dow-panes. Then, with startling distinctness, a loud bark 
 re-echoed through the house, half like the crowing of a 
 cock, half like the baying of a hound. Gertrude's face 
 grew suddenly rigid and her eyes dilated with fear. 
 
 " What is it, dear, what is it ? " he cried, jumping up and 
 seizing her hand. 
 
 " Croup ! " she whispered ; " run for the doctor." 
 She disengaged her hand from his grasp, and recovering 
 her composure hastened to the nursery. There she found 
 her four-year-old boy Obed standing on the floor in his 
 night-gown, holding on to the bed, while the terrible cough 
 shook his little frame from head to foot. The steam 
 heater, that assassin of innocents, had, for some inscrutable 
 reason, known only to the janitor, raised the temperature 
 to eighty-five degrees. The child, perspiring and uncom- 
 fortable, had kicked off its coverings (in spite of safety 
 pins), rolled out of bed, and sleeping there in a draft from 
 the window, which was lowered a little at the top, had 
 caught the dangerous malady. The nurse, whose duty it 
 was to watch him, was, as usual, having company in the 
 kitchen. The doctor arrived in half an hour, took the boy's 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 373 
 
 temperature, listened to his breathing, and left directions 
 for his treatment. Aleck begged to be permitted to watch 
 over him, but was peremptorily refused. When, in spite of 
 the prohibition, he lingered at the door, Gertrude impa- 
 tiently motioned him away. 
 
 " What is the good of our both losing our sleep ? " she 
 asked ; "you go to your room, and take Ralph in bed with 
 you ; and see that he does not kick the blanket off." 
 
 " I will," he answered, " if you will promise to call me at 
 two and let me watch till morning." 
 
 " Very well ! But I don't want you to talk now ; he is 
 falling asleep. Hush-sh-sh." 
 
 He had no choice but to obey. With a heavy heart he 
 undressed, but resolved to stay awake, so as to be at her 
 beck in case of need. For an hour or more his son Ralph, 
 who, with all his charming qualities, was not a pleasant 
 bedfellow, assisted him faithfully to keep this resolution ; 
 but at the end of that time unconsciousness stole over him, 
 his thoughts became incoherent, and he drifted away into 
 dreamland. He scarcely knew how long he slept ; but it 
 must have been about five o'clock when his son awoke him 
 with this timely query : 
 
 " Papa, which is the strongest, the lion or the eagle ? " 
 
 Aleck, seeing the light peeping in through the closed 
 shutters, jumped up with a guilty conscience. Flinging 
 his dressing gown over his robe de nuit he started for the 
 door of the nursery. Gertrude, pale, almost haggard in 
 the morning light, sat at the bed holding the sick child in 
 her lap. Her large blue eyes were full of anxiety ; there 
 was trouble in her face ; and something sweetly maternal, 
 like the shimmer from an inner radiance, illuminated 
 her noble features. Aleck, seeing in this the divinest gift 
 and highest vocation of womanhood, gazed at her with a 
 heart overflowing with tenderness. 
 
 "How is Obed?" he asked a little shamefacedly; for 
 he was aware that he must look irritatingly fresh and rested 
 after five hours' sleep. 
 
 " How is he ? " she answered, with quivering lips. " Come 
 and see." 
 
 Aleck walked on tiptoe across the floor, feeling all the 
 while her reproachful eyes fixed upon him. 
 
 " How do you feel, darling ? " he said to the boy, laying 
 his hand on his hot forehead ; " papa is so sorry you are 
 ill." 
 
 The child smiled feebly, but did not answer ; his poor 
 
374 THE MAMMON 1 
 
 little breast was heaving painfully, and his breath came 
 with a distressing piping and stertorous sound through the 
 obstructed little throat. 
 
 "I am ashamed of myself, Gertie," Aleck continued, 
 turning to his wife. 
 
 " I should think you ought to be," she replied, curtly. 
 
 " I had determined to stay awake ; but sleep overcame 
 me. But why did you not call me, as you promised ?" 
 
 "If you did not care enough for your child to be kept 
 awake by anxiety for his life, I did not want your assist- 
 ance," she retorted, with terrible severity. 
 
 " How can you speak so to me ? " he broke out, deeply 
 wounded. " Do I not care for my children ?" 
 
 " Oh, yes, as long as it costs you no trouble, you care for 
 them." 
 
 " Gertrude," he exclaimed, gazing at her in sudden alarm, 
 " what do you mean ? " 
 
 " Oh, you are an unfeeling brute," she cried, bursting 
 into a flood of tears. " Here your child is dying, while you 
 are sleeping." 
 
 If she had struck him a blow Aleck could not have been 
 more astounded. Was this his gentle, considerate wife, who 
 only last night lifted a burden from his heart by her sweet 
 confidence and affection? In hopeless bewilderment he 
 stood staring at her. She had put the child in its crib, and 
 had flung herself prostrate at the foot of the bed, clutching 
 the blanket with her fingers. Her frame was shaken by 
 convulsive weeping. He could not bear to take her to task 
 for her injustice to him, while her heart was wrung with 
 anguish for her child. Suddenly he remembered the words 
 of the physician who said, years ago, that she had poor 
 nerves. This reflection, as on a former occasion, brought 
 him infinite relief. She had watched while he had slept. 
 Her nerves were unstrung, her head was racked with anx- 
 iety and pain. The suspicion pierced him like an arrow 
 that perhaps her love for the child was deeper than his. 
 How often he had felt a glow of satisfaction at the thought 
 that he was a good and affectionate father ! And yet his 
 affection had not been strong enough to keep him awake 
 while his boy's life was in danger. 
 
 He was interrupted in these reflections by the arrival of 
 the doctor. Gertrude arose, wiped away her tears, and, 
 struggling for composure, gave an account of the night. 
 The physican, after having examined the child, declared 
 that only tracheotomy could save its life. Another phy- 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 375 
 
 sician was accordingly called in and the operation success- 
 fully performed. The day passed amid feverish fluctuations 
 of hope and fear. In the middle of the afternoon there 
 seemed to be a great improvement ; the boy's temperature 
 went down ; his breathing became easier. Gertrude was 
 then induced to take a little rest, and Aleck undertook to 
 stay with Obed. He received meekly a hundred instruc- 
 tions, promising to carry them out to the letter. The child 
 was sitting up in bed propped up in pillows. With his first 
 relief from pain, his liveliness returned, and he made pa- 
 thetic attempts to play with his father, putting his finger in 
 his mouth, pulling his hair down over his forehead, and nip- 
 ping at his mustache, and after each prank giving a sound- 
 less laugh, which was touching. When he began to tire of 
 these diversions, Aleck brought him a box of colored Christ- 
 mas candles, which served to amuse him for another half 
 hour. Presently he signified by signs that he wanted them 
 lighted, and Aleck, not having the heart to refuse him, 
 struck a match and lighted a candle. The little boy puck- 
 ered up his lips and tried to blow it out, but could not ; as he 
 yet breathed through the tube in his throat. He soon dis- 
 covered, however, that by putting his finger over the open- 
 ing of the tube he could make the flame flicker. The great 
 success of this experiment led to its repetition. But the 
 third time the candle was blown out, he was seized with a 
 violent coughing fit, and fell back, choking, turned black 
 in the face, and as his mother appeared, pale with fright, 
 in the door, he made a pitiful attempt to call her name. 
 She seized him in her arms ; his little struggling fists grazed 
 her cheek, and fell down limply on his breast. It was a 
 dead child she pressed to her heart. 
 
 But oh ! the misery of the following days, the alterna- 
 tions of keen pangs of anguish and a mellow, tearful sad- 
 ness and half wondering resignation ; the hopeless loneli- 
 ness of sorrow, and the union of hearts under a common 
 loss ; the impotent rebellion against God's inscrutable 
 ways, and the anxious peering behind the veil of eternity; 
 the awful sense of our insignificance ; the callousness of 
 exhausted emotions it were vain to describe it. It is 
 hinted at in Omar Khayyam's terrible verse : 
 
 " When you and I behind the veil have passed, 
 
 Oh, but the long, long while the world shall last, 
 Which of our coming and departure heeds 
 As heeds the seven seas a pebble cast." 
 
3/6 THE MAMMON 
 
 Aleck, having wrestled with his grief until he no longer 
 knew whether he or it had conquered, set about making 
 arrangements for the funeral. He inserted an obituary 
 notice in the papers ; not because there was anyone he 
 wished to notify (for he had but few acquaintances in the 
 city), but simply in conformity to custom. When the day 
 of the funeral arrived, there were, besides the clergyman 
 and the undertaker, but six people in the room ; all asso- 
 ciates of Aleck in the school. The white coffin was stand- 
 ing on a table in the middle of the parlor, and Gertrude, 
 gazing with tearless eyes upon the lovely little face, mar- 
 velled that this little form, which, but a few days ago, 
 was so instinct with restless life and activity, could now 
 be so strangely still. The clergyman had just opened his 
 prayer-book, and was about to begin the service, when 
 there appeared at the door a tall, gray-haired man. He 
 walked up to the coffin, and stood for some minutes star- 
 ing at the dead child. Gertrude, who knew his step before 
 she saw his face, arose and went toward him. 
 
 " Darter," he said, huskily, grasping both her hands, " I 
 want to take little Obed home." 
 
 She tried to answer, but could not utter a sound. Her 
 tongue seemed paralyzed, and there was a lump in her 
 throat. 
 
 " Darter," the old man continued, gazing at her solemnly, 
 " I want to take you home, too." 
 
 " But Aleck father," she managed to falter. 
 
 " We'll take him along, too." 
 
 It was very still in the room. The bright winter sun 
 poured in at the windows, and falling upon her head, bur- 
 nished her hair with a faint golden sheen. The mantel 
 clock ticked away busily in the silence. The clergyman 
 stood with his open book, glancing from one to the other, 
 anxious to begin the service. Aleck, in the meanwhile, 
 had come forward, and was holding his uncle's hand. 
 Their eyes, by a common impulse, sought the dead child, 
 whose placid face the sun was illuminating. And a cruel 
 pang shot through Gertrude's heart ; no rosy translucence, 
 no vivid play of features responded to the glare of the 
 light. The bloodless pallor, the sunken, lustreless eyes 
 revived the pain ; and an awful sense of desolation and 
 loss overwhelmed her. And when the clergyman's clear 
 voice rang out upon the stillness, " I am the Resurrection 
 and the Life," a great wave of emotion swept through her 
 soul ; she flung herself upon her father's breast and wept. 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 377 
 
 The service was soon at an end ; the woful moment 
 came when the coffin was closed and given into strange 
 hands ; and all the terrible tragedy of mortality, with its 
 solemn riddles, was suggested to their sorrowing hearts. 
 But in some vague way it was a comfort to them that the 
 child was to be taken to the family vault in Torryville, 
 and not to that dreary necropolis, that awful democracy 
 of the dead, on Long Island. 
 
 At noon they boarded the Torryville train and arrived 
 late in the evening. They were met at the depot by 
 Horace and Kate, in whose carriage they were driven in 
 state to the old Larkin mansion. And after supper, when 
 they were all gathered in the large library, the old man 
 walked up to the fire, and while poking it in an aimless 
 and hap-hazard way delivered himself of this speech : 
 
 " I want you to understand, darter, that this is your 
 house. I had meant to give it to you, Horace. But I'll 
 cancel my mortgage on your house ; so it'll amount to the 
 same thing. I am going to stay with Gertie and Aleck as 
 long as I last. And I want you to be good friends, boys ; 
 and have no rows about property, nor nothing else. I'm 
 a-goin' to leave everything in ship-shape ; for human nat- 
 ure is human nature, and I don't want to take no risks. 
 For you, Aleck, I'm going to get a berth in the University. 
 Having written a book, you'll do, I guess, for Professor of 
 English ; and it so happens that we have just got a va- 
 cancy in that department, and if we didn't have one I'd 
 make one. And your little boy, Obed God bless his dear 
 soul well all I've got to say is this he didn't live nor 
 die- for nothing." 
 
 It was about a week after this conversation, when his 
 new sense of proprietorship in the great mansion had be- 
 come a trifle blunted, that Aleck overtook his uncle walk- 
 ing along the road that skirted the lake. The old man 
 had never been much of a pedestrian ; but the state of 
 his digestion gave him trouble, and his physician had 
 ordered him to take a daily walk of an hour. There he was 
 striding along with his ponderous gray head bent, and his 
 eyes fixed on the ground ; and every now and then, when 
 he espied a piece of frozen horse-manure, he thrust the 
 peg of his cane into it, and flung it across the fence into 
 the neighboring field. Aleck noticed that the surface of 
 the snow on the right side of the fence was black with 
 this useful fertilizer, while on the left side it was merely 
 gray from the dust and the soot of passing railway trains. 
 
378 THE MAMMON 
 
 And he could not help smiling, as he reflected that the 
 field on the right side belonged to the Larkin estate, 
 while the strip of land between the lake and the road 
 belonged to Mr. Dallas. And this man of millions this 
 great philanthropist actually occupied himself during his 
 morning walks in spearing frozen horse-manure and fer- 
 tilizing en passant his own field rather than his neighbor's. 
 Aleck^ it must be admitted, felt ashamed on his uncle's 
 account, and regretted having caught him at so undigni- 
 fied a task. For he was anxious to admire him in sin- 
 cerity which in the past he had often found it difficult to 
 do. He therefore affected not to observe the frequent 
 employment of the cane as a manure fork, as he caught up 
 with Mr. Larkin, and they walked along together. 
 
 They talked for a while of indifferent things in a hap- 
 hazard, fragmentary, and constrained way. They had 
 never been quite congenial. The habitual attitude of 
 years could not (however much they both desired it) be 
 suddenly altered. It was a matter of feeling ; not of rea- 
 soning. At the end of five minutes they reached a hill. 
 from which the University buildings could be seen, with 
 the sunshine glittering in their long rows of windows. 
 
 The old man stopped, thrust his stick into the ground, 
 and stood gazing with meditative satisfaction at the mas- 
 sive row of rectangular edifices. "Aleck," he burst out 
 suddenly, while his face lighted up with a rare enthusiasm ; 
 "if God spares me I hope to live long enough to see the 
 day when a thousand young men and women shall climb 
 that hill in pursuit of learning." 
 
 He pointed energetically at the group of sandstone bar- 
 racks, as he uttered these words, and fixed upon his 
 nephew a glance full of craving for sympathy. Aleck, 
 however, upon whose mind the horse-manure episode had 
 left an unpleasant impression, answered, perversely : 
 
 " But, uncle, what would you do with such a mob of 
 scholars ? The country, in the end, would be embarrassed 
 by the cheapness of higher education." 
 
 The old man was evidently unprepared for such an an- 
 swer, but he shook off its suggestion, as he would a 
 troublesome insect, and remarked, in a voice of deep con- 
 viction : 
 
 " No, Aleck, no. No man is ever embarrassed by his learn- 
 ing, but by his ignorance he is embarrassed. I know that. 
 I was a poor boy, and had no chance for book-learning. I 
 always thought I should have amounted to something in 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 379 
 
 the world, if I had had it. I don't want any poor boy or 
 girl to suffer, as I did, for the want of a chance to learn ; 
 and then feel, as I do, what he might have been. That is 
 the reason that University stands there on the hill-top, 
 Aleck, and if I don't live to see a thousand students there, 
 I am sure you will." 
 
 He took off his rusty beaver, wiped its inside with his 
 bandana handkerchief, replaced it upon his head, and re- 
 sumed his slow, ponderous walk. Aleck remained stand- 
 ing in the middle of the road. A flash of insight pierced 
 through his soul, and broke with a swift illumination over 
 his countenance. He saw the pathetic side of his uncle's 
 life ; its failure in the midst of its success, and the funda- 
 mental nobility of the character which it revealed. When 
 he rejoined the old man, there was a new light in his eyes, 
 and in his voice a warm cordiality which made Mr. Larkin 
 look up for a moment, but with no betrayal of the pleased 
 surprise which he felt. That was the beginning of their 
 new relation, which the years have ripened and deepened. 
 
380 THE MAMMON 
 
 CHAPTER XLVIL 
 
 ENCHANTMENT AND DISENCHANTMENT. 
 
 The Hon. Horace Larkin and his wife were seated in 
 their great drawing-room on the first floor, discussing that 
 harassing problem, where and how to spend the summer. 
 Their house, which was built of white sandstone, in a 
 semi-ecclesiastical style, a kind of domesticated Gothic 
 was not only the finest in Torryville, but one of the finest 
 in the western part of the State. It commanded a superb 
 view over the lake and the valley, and traced itself, with 
 its high gables, in strong relief against the dark pine 
 forest and the green fields, planted with tulip-trees, elms, 
 and shrubbery. In front of the mansion, the whole slope 
 toward the lake was carefully graded and decorated with 
 flower-beds, gravel walks, and well-trimmed hedges. A 
 wide carriage road, bounded by young trees and white- 
 washed bowlders, wound up from the highway, with 
 graceful curves, to a wide, resonant archway in front of the 
 main entrance. The house within, if a daring figure 
 may be permissible, was an esthetic revel in three acts 
 and some twenty-five scenes. The parlor, which was fin- 
 ished in white and gold, was but a variation of that of the 
 Van Schaak mansion in Gramercy Park. But the draw- 
 ing-room was an independent creation of Kate, upon 
 which she prided herself. It had a superb spaciousness, 
 and with its high ceiling and wide doors gave an almost 
 palatial impression. The exquisite woodwork, the grand 
 piano in the style of the Directoire, the rich and harmoni- 
 ously blended draperies of doors and windows, the Jap- 
 anese cabinets laden with costly bric-a-brac betrayed a 
 fastidious taste and artistic skill in the smallest detail. 
 
 It was in deference to his wife's wishes that Horace 
 spent the hour after dinner, in her company, in this 
 sumptuous apartment. He never felt at home there ; he 
 never got over the feeling that he was only visiting Kate. 
 He was afraid to sit down on the chairs, lest he might soil 
 or break them. They were apparently not made with a 
 view to service ; and as they stood there in dainty minuet 
 attitudes, they impressed him with a sense of alienism 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 381 
 
 which habit did not blunt. He longed for his big, ugly, 
 office chair with the well-worn leather cushion, one caster 
 gone, and one arm in a state of chronic decrepitude. It 
 was, moreover, a trial for which he held the magnificence 
 of the room responsible, that he was forbidden to smoke in 
 it. His post-prandial cigar seemed, from long habit, abso- 
 lutely essential to his comfort ; but Kate had no pity on 
 such reprehensible habits ; and in the end he had to con- 
 form to her demand. It was odd, that, in spite of her dis- 
 approval of him, she was very dependent upon his society. 
 Without scolding and without being anything of a shrew, 
 she had a knack of asserting her authority ; and for lack 
 of other subjects she probably enjoyed asserting it over 
 him. He had already made up his mind to sacrifice his 
 own predilections in this question of a summer residence ; 
 because experience had taught him that it never paid to 
 triumph over Kate. A victory over her was always a tem- 
 porary affair, which in the course of time would resolve 
 itself into a disguised defeat. If he went to a place which 
 she did not like, his summer would be a prolonged martyr- 
 dom. The more was the pity that they disagreed so rad- 
 ically concerning what constituted the desirable qualities 
 of a place of summer sojourn. There was Newport, which 
 suited Kate to perfection, but to Horace was a synonym 
 for everything that he held in detestation. Bar Harbor 
 he found scarcely less objectionable ; and there may have 
 been a soupcon of truth in Kate's assertion that what he 
 would have preferred above all would be to stay where he 
 was, regarding nothing but his own indolent pleasure. It 
 may have been observed by some that a latent acidity had 
 begun to develop itself in Kate's temper ; and though she 
 was placid and dignified as ever, her quiet words had often 
 the stings of scorpions. She had a way, when she was 
 crossed, of giving him neat little lady-like stabs in every 
 phrase she uttered. When the evening mail arrived, put- 
 ting an end to the domestic debate, Horace was boiling 
 with suppressed irritability. Yet he said nothing to indi- 
 cate his state of mind, for wives have this advantage in 
 matrimonial disputes, that they care nothing for the con- 
 sequences, while husbands as a rule do. Though Kate 
 might wound his self-esteem, he never wounded hers in re- 
 turn. And I fear she had just a little contempt for him on 
 this account, mistaking his chivalry for lack of ability. It 
 seemed often incomprehensible to her how he had risen 
 to the eminence he had reached, with his very moderate 
 
382 THE MAMMON 
 
 gifts ; and she could only account for it on the supposition 
 that men as a class were much inferior to women. She, 
 for her part, was quite prepared to take up the gauntlet 
 against any of them. And there was no disputing in her 
 husband's mind that her impregnable conviction of her 
 own superiority, apart from other considerations, made 
 her a formidable antagonist. 
 
 The mail this evening was very large ; and there was 
 among the twenty or thirty letters a large franked one of 
 an imposing official aspect. Kate could not quite conceal 
 her interest in this letter ; nor her chagrin when her hus- 
 band, with an instinctive impulse to thwart her, pushed 
 it aside with ostentatious indifference. He tore open 
 envelope after envelope, smiled, grunted, pulled his mus- 
 tache, forgot his ill-humor and laughed outright. As a 
 member elect of Congress, and a potential power in the 
 State, he felt his importance. Petitions of the most incon- 
 ceivable sorts were raining down upon him. He was 
 courted and cajoled by every interest dependent upon 
 legislative favor. Human nature was exhibiting itself to 
 him in some of its most contemptible aspects. Horace 
 had rapidly perused half a dozen petitions and one or two 
 veiled offers of bribery, when he put his hand in due order 
 on the official envelope. He broke the seal, which was 
 that of the Department of State of the United States ; and 
 as he glanced down the page, his features lighted up with 
 a sudden animation. 
 
 "Kate," he said, forgetting his grudge, "here is some- 
 thing that'll please you." 
 
 "What is it?" she asked, looking up from her news- 
 paper with a well-simulated air of abstraction. 
 
 " How do you like the Czar of all the Russias ?" 
 
 "A man after my own heart," said Kate ; " a little whole- 
 some despotism, that's just what we need in this pestilent 
 democracy of ours." 
 
 " You'd better tell him that." 
 
 "If I had a chance I would." 
 
 " Well, you may have the chance ; here is a letter ask- 
 ing me if I will accept the appointment as minister to the 
 court of St. Petersburg." 
 
 "Ah ! how very nice ! I hope you will accept." 
 
 "I don't know." 
 
 Here another debate followed, but a much more amic- 
 able one. In his heart of hearts, Horace had already made 
 up his mind, The honor, coming unsolicited, was tog 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 383 
 
 great to decline. There were a hundred reasons why he 
 should not decline. But, wishing to put Kate under ob- 
 ligation, he yielded to her argument inch by inch and 
 with seeming reluctance acquiesced in her conclusions. 
 By some mysterious process his aims and ideals had 
 altered. The position of a diplomat seemed no longer so 
 contemptible to him as it had done in the days when he 
 ran for the legislature. He could even imagine himself dan- 
 cing attendance upon the rulers of the effete monarchies 
 without democratic compunction. Half unconsciously 
 his bearing changed, as he listened to Kate's subtle flat- 
 tery (for it suited her purpose, just then, to flatter), and 
 he paced the floor, holding his head high, with a tentative 
 diplomatic air. Envoy Extraordinary and Minister Pleni- 
 potentiary of the United States of America! It sounded 
 extraordinarily well ! A man could afford to sacrifice a 
 good deal in return for such a dignity. 
 
 His acceptance of the appointment was accordingly 
 telegraphed to Washington, and the next day all the news- 
 papers of the Union were commenting upon it. Thus the 
 vexed summer question was happily solved. Instead of 
 going to Newport or Bar Harbor, Kate consented, without 
 persuasion, to go to St. Petersburg. But her spouse, the 
 minister, was far from suspecting the depth of exultation 
 and triumph that dwelt in her heart when he showed her 
 the imposing official document which constituted his cre- 
 dentials, and the tickets for Liverpool, on the Cunarder 
 Servia. For Kate was too wise to boast ; she had builded 
 patiently and silently for many years, and here the struct- 
 ure of her ambition stood complete. 
 
 On the night before the Servia sailed, Mr. and Mrs. 
 Adrian Van Schaak, Sr., gave a dinner at their residence 
 in Gramercy Park in honor of their son-in-law, the 
 Honorable Horace Larkin, and his wife. It was a brilliant 
 dinner, and many distinguished persons were present. 
 The newly appointed minister sat at the right hand of his 
 mother-in-law, who no longer paralyzed him with her loco- 
 motive stare, but beamed upon him a gaze of maternal 
 pride and admiration. On the other side of the minister, 
 enveloped in an exquisite, tantalizing perfume, sat his sis- 
 ter-in-law, Mrs. Adrian, Jr., embarrassingly decolletee, charm- 
 ingly natvt, indiscreet, and brimming over with mischief. 
 
 " Horace," she said to the guest of honor, " do you know 
 I once thought you were the cleverest man I had ever 
 known ? " 
 
384 THE MAMMON 
 
 "That was very nice of you to think," he responded ; 
 " and may I ask to what I owe the forfeiture of your good 
 opinion ? " 
 
 " Oh, well, no it's scarcely worth while, only I'll say 
 this ; now I think that your wife is the cleverest woman 
 I've ever known." 
 
 41 To which I agree, most cordially." 
 
 "Ah, well, you'd better, or I shouldn't like to be in your 
 shoes," cried the lady, laughing. 
 
 "Hush sh sh, my dear child!" Horace warned, dis- 
 guising his annoyance ; " do remember there are people 
 round about us who have ears." 
 
 " But they are such very long ears," laughed Mrs. 
 Adrian, with her gay, irresponsible air ; " look at Adrian's 
 there, for instance ; he is the safest man in the world to say 
 things to ; in fact he never gets anything right, so you can 
 always contradict him, and he never gets angry any more 
 because he knows it's no good." 
 
 " Well, I wish his wife were as discreet as he." 
 
 " Do you really ? Well, now, you do me injustice. To- 
 night, I am the soul of discretion, I am just dying to 
 tell you something, and I asked mamma to put me next to 
 you, so that I might have the chance. But I haven't 
 whispered a syllable about it simply because I didn't want 
 to spoil your dinner." 
 
 " I appreciate your kindness ; I hope your good resolu- 
 tion will last till the coffee." 
 
 " Now, Horace, that's simply abominable. I am going 
 to punish you for that ; I am going to tell you now and 
 make you sea-sick before you've finished ihefaet." 
 
 It was futile that he resolved to pay no attention to her 
 hints. That she had some unpleasant revelation in store 
 for him was evident. Nor could he hope that she would 
 spare him ; for she hated Kate with all the hate of which 
 her kittenish, inconsequent nature was capable. And she 
 had a grudge against Kate's husband because he nursed 
 her pride by advancing her fortunes. 
 
 "Well," she resumed after a pause which had been 
 devoted to ^ pate ^i sweetbreads, " Kate made a diplomat 
 of you, after all." 
 
 " I don't know why you say that Kate did it," answered 
 Horace, with a sense of relief, for he was under the im- 
 pression that this was an entirely new topic ; " the ap~ 
 pointment came to me unsolicited from the President. 
 And that is what I chiefly value about it." 
 
OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 385 
 
 " Unsolicited, oho ! " cried his fair tormentor, her eyes 
 dancing with mischief ; " and that's what you value about 
 it! Well, my dear brother-in-law, if you won't take it 
 amiss, may I be allowed to ask you a question? Aren't 
 you a little bit fresh ? " 
 
 Horace colored to the edge of his hair. This certainly 
 passed the limit of permissible banter. And yet, if there 
 was something behind her words besides a desire to tease, 
 he had better know it, even at the expense of his pride. 
 Laughter and animated conversation sounded about them, 
 and remarks were frequently addressed to him which he 
 had to answer. In order not to attract attention, he 
 artfully involved Mrs. Adrian in a dispute with the Rus- 
 sian Minister from Washington, and himself with some 
 winged platitudes wooed the favor of her ladyship with 
 the fine shoulders and the gorgeous diamonds who was the 
 minister's wife. But when the dinner was at an end, and 
 the company had broken up in little groups scattered on 
 chairs and chaises longues in the large salon, he approached 
 his sister-in-law once more and asked her to explain her 
 delphic utterances. 
 
 " I want you to tell me without reserve," he said, gravely, 
 " has anyone, as far as you know, asked this appointment 
 for me ? " 
 
 " I don't know," she answered. 
 
 " Then what did you mean by your insinuation ?" 
 
 " I meant this," she retorted, a slight coldness stealing 
 into her manner, " that Mr. Van Schaak paid $20,000 out 
 of Kate's money and $25,000 of his own to the Republican 
 campaign fund, on condition that you should have this 
 appointment." 
 
 She was surprised at the effect of her words. He 
 turned quite pale and stared with a look of intense resent- 
 ment toward his wife, who was sitting in an easy-chair ac- 
 cepting the homage of the Russian Minister. In a flash he 
 saw the whole plot, with its skilful half-revelations and 
 concealments, and the consummate sagacity and patience 
 with which it had been advanced and developed from stage 
 to stage. What had he. been but a dupe and a marionette 
 in his wife's hand ? She pulled the wires ; he performed 
 the part and arrogated a semblance of independence. 
 But in the midst of the bitterness of his resentment, there 
 awoke a feeling of profound respect and admiration for 
 this marvellously cool and daring woman, who conceived 
 such long plans and carried them out so ruthlessly, 
 
 25 
 
386 THE MAMMON OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS. 
 
 " One thing more, Annie," he said to his sister-in-law, 
 as she made a motion to leave him, " are you absolutely 
 sure that you have told me the truth I mean that you 
 have not been deceived ? " 
 
 " I can show you a letter from Q which will con- 
 vince you." 
 
 " And you mean to say that this arrangement was made 
 with the President ? " 
 
 " No, not with the President ; but with some one very 
 close to him who claimed to speak for him." 
 
 " Thank you. And now, Annie, do me the favor not to 
 tell Kate that I know this. I'll make it worth your while. 
 Ask anything you want of me in Russia, and you shall 
 have it, if it is in my power to give it." 
 
 " Agreed. I'm coming over next year with Adrian to be 
 presented at court in a dress that will make Kate ill. 
 That shall be my reward." 
 
 The next morning at seven, when the Servia steamed 
 out with the tide, a tall gentleman, extremely comme il faut 
 in his attire, was seen walking up and down on the deck, 
 holding his chin well up, and with a certain diplomatic 
 reserve in his bearing. His hair was parted in the middle, 
 and his mustache had a premeditated curl, which hinted 
 at wax. At his side walked a handsome lady, with a cool 
 and contented air and something in her look and bearing 
 which indicated the grande dame. They were talking 
 together in a serene and undemonstrative way, apparently 
 unconscious of the sensation they were making. 
 
 Leaning against the bulwarks on the starboard side 
 stood an aspiring novelist, rejoicing in the company of the 
 pretty young girl who yesterday became his wife. 
 
 "Do you know who that is?" he asked, with a toss of 
 his head toward the distinguished promenader. 
 
 " No," she answered ; " who is it ? " 
 
 " It is Mr. Larkin, the newly-appointed Minister to 
 Russia." 
 
 " He is not handsome." 
 
 "No, but he dresses well." 
 
 " And he is so distingue'.'' 
 
 "Yes; he has the walk of a Minister Plenipotentiary 
 and Envoy Extraordinary." 
 
 " How proud his wife must be of him ! " 
 
 "Yes ; and he of her." 
 
 THE END. 
 
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