THE CLUTCH 
 
 CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 LEIGHTON GRAVES-OSMUN
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE
 
 THE CLUTCH OF 
 CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 By 
 
 LEIGHTON GRAVES OSMUN 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 SULLY AND KLEINTEICH 
 1914
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1914. BY 
 SULLY AND KLEINTEICH 
 
 All rights reserved 
 
 THE QUINN A BOOEN CO. PRESS 
 RAHWAY, N. J.
 
 INFICTUS 
 
 By William Ernest Henley 
 
 Out of the night that covers me. 
 Black as the pit from pole to pole, 
 
 I thank whatever gods may be 
 For my unconquerable soul. 
 
 In the fell clutch of circumstance 
 I have not winced nor cried aloud. 
 
 Under the bludgeonings of chance 
 My head is bloody, but unbowed. 
 
 Beyond this place of wrath and tears 
 Looms but the Horror of the shade, 
 
 And yet the menace of the years 
 Finds and shall jind me unafraid. 
 
 It matters not how strait the gate, 
 
 How charged with punishments the scroll, 
 
 I am the master of my fate: 
 I am the captain of my soul. 
 
 2137532
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE
 
 THE CLUTCH 
 
 OF 
 CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THERE are days in spring so perfect that the hu- 
 man mind can imagine nothing more beautiful, 
 days when the heavy scent of blossoms fills the air, 
 and the rich odor of the warm earth and young 
 growing things enters the blood, and imbues one 
 with vague ecstasy. 
 
 On such a day a young woman was sitting at a 
 piano in one of the houses on the main street of 
 Harbury. This street straightens itself out self- 
 consciously from a rambling country road, and runs 
 primly in a decorous, straight line through the vil- 
 lage beneath the spreading branches of stately elms. 
 It passes a group of small stores, and then con- 
 tinues its uneventful way between dwellings fronted 
 by small but scrupulously kept lawns, until it reaches 
 the farther end of town, where, freed from the re- 
 straining atmosphere of the little Puritan village,
 
 2 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 it takes to ambling crookedly again under the care- 
 less indulgence of Mother Nature. 
 
 The girl at the piano was as dainty as the flow- 
 ers with which the room was filled, and she was 
 happy; from her golden brown hair to the tip of 
 her little, shiny slipper peeping out from under 
 her white frilled skirt, she breathed youth and joy. 
 The most caviling of Harbury critics had to admit 
 that she was pretty, though they hotly contested 
 her claims to beauty; she was too small, they said, 
 and her features lacked the classic lines which ap- 
 pealed more strongly to them. Then there was 
 something about her appearance which annoyed 
 them, but which they could explain in no more defi- 
 nite way than to say that she was " Frenchy look- 
 ing." Yet it was no doll-like prettiness that she 
 possessed. Her chin might be dainty, but it was 
 firm; her lips might suggest kisses, yet they could 
 be set in a stern, forbidding straight line; her eyes 
 might seem melting and tender, but they could, if 
 the occasion arose, flash fire. Masked behind her 
 cheeriness and dainty loveliness was the character 
 handed down to her through a long line of Puritan 
 ancestry. 
 
 A like contrast showed itself in her surround- 
 ings. The house was furnished, instead of aus- 
 terely, as one would have supposed had one gazed 
 jipon it from the outside, comfortably and with
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 3 
 
 even a kind of modest luxury. The stiff, hair- 
 cloth furniture and abominable crayons of relatives 
 were conspicuous by their absence. The house was 
 a bone of contention to the other residents of Har- 
 bury; the older generation looked upon it as a 
 leaning towards the flesh-pots of Egypt, while the 
 younger, and consequently more tolerant, consid- 
 ered it perfect, and copied it either in their own 
 homes or in their dreams of what their homes would 
 be like when they possessed them. 
 
 Nor was the girl herself less a subject of com- 
 ment. The Harbury God is a hard god, a jealous 
 god, who is supposed to look at all joy, not of 
 the religious kind, askance, and she was too happy, 
 too care- free, too filled with the joy of living, and, 
 worst of all, she was trying to make her husband 
 like herself. 
 
 Now she ran her fingers over the keys and sang 
 with all the abandon of complete happiness. She 
 threw back her head and her white throat fluttered 
 with melody. No bird, pouring out its soul amid 
 the blossoming foliage, was more care-free, more 
 contented than she. 
 
 And at last he came, his long strides crunching 
 heavily on the graveled walk. He threw open the 
 door and filled the doorway with his massive frame. 
 She sprang to meet him, and beat her hands hap- 
 pily against his great chest before he could stoop
 
 4 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 over sufficiently for her to clasp them around his 
 neck. 
 
 " Hello ! " he said in feigned surprise, " what is 
 the house all trimmed up for? " 
 
 She laughed joyfully. " As if you could forget, 
 you old fraud." 
 
 " No," he admitted, " I have not forgotten. We 
 were married a year ago to-day." 
 
 He stood stroking her hair clumsily, his stern 
 face softened and tender. 
 
 " Kiss, me, John," she cried gayly; " kiss me and 
 then laugh. Oh, John, let's be so happy to-night 
 and just laugh and dance and sing that is, I will 
 dance and sing, and you shall laugh, you great 
 owl!" 
 
 She danced away from him, leaving him standing 
 there with an expression of puzzled embarrassment 
 on his face. He could never follow her into these 
 lighter moods. He could not even understand them, 
 but if now and then a shade of disapproval entered 
 his mind he crushed it, almost before it made it- 
 self felt. 
 
 Suddenly she sobered, and, going over to the 
 table, picked up a tiny garment and held it up to 
 him. " See, dear, what I made to-day; isn't it 
 pretty?" 
 
 He took it awkwardly in his huge hands, and
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 5 
 
 gazed down on it with reverent awe. Then silently 
 he took her in his arms. 
 
 They passed out into the dining-room together. 
 " Let me go now, dear," she said gently, " I must 
 bring the supper in." 
 
 He kissed her, and sat down at the table, the 
 light of a great emotion in his eyes. 
 
 John Lawson was not a handsome man; his fea- 
 tures were too large and stern, his jaw too square, 
 his eyes, deep set under shaggy eyebrows, glowed 
 too somberly, yet his was a face that gave the im- 
 pression of limitless power and equally limitless 
 tenacity of purpose. One would say, on looking 
 at him, that he was a man who would go far. In 
 reality he was only thirty, yet he looked older. 
 There were lines in his face which could have been 
 produced only by stalwart fighting in the battle of 
 life. John had been fighting ever since he was ten 
 years old. When he was that age, his father died, 
 leaving to John and his mother a mortgaged farm 
 on a stony New England hillside. John persuaded 
 his mother to sell the farm, and move into Har- 
 bury, where he obtained a position in a grocery 
 store. The owner, unable to meet the competition 
 of a later rival, became discouraged. John man- 
 aged to raise enough money to buy him out. He 
 made the business pay, but there were in his mind 
 loftier ambitions than the ownership of a grocery
 
 6 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 store in Harbury; even now he was planning the 
 next step. 
 
 " Ruth," he said, when she had come in from 
 the kitchen bearing a dish of delicious-looking bis- 
 cuits, " Sam Brunt wants to sell his store in Chester. 
 I am thinking of buying it. I am calculating on 
 getting a chain of stores all over the state, and I 
 will before I'm through." 
 
 Instantly she was alert: 
 
 " How much does he ask ?" 
 
 John named a figure. 
 
 She shook her head. " It is too much. Sam 
 has allowed the business to run down; it is worth 
 no more than the fixtures." 
 
 He smiled: 
 
 " And what are they worth ? " 
 
 In turn she named a figure. 
 
 " Sam told me," he said reflectively, " that his 
 business had been better last year than ever before. 
 Of course I will find out when I look over his books, 
 but " 
 
 " Then why does he want to sell ? " she retorted. 
 
 " He says his wife is sick wants to move away." 
 
 " Have you seen his wife? " 
 
 "No." " 
 
 " Well, I have," she said, smiling. " I saw her 
 yesterday. She does not look much like an in- 
 valid."
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 7 
 
 He thought a moment. " How do you know that 
 Sam's business has run down ? " 
 
 A gleam of fun came into her eyes. " You went 
 to Chester three times last week. You covered your 
 cuffs with figures, and forgot to answer when I 
 spoke to you. I put two and two together, and 
 ferreted out your dread secret. Then I gossiped a 
 little with my neighbors. Chester isn't more than a 
 hundred miles from here." 
 
 "You went there?" 
 
 " No; I invited Aunt Sally over here. She knows 
 everything about everybody, and is willing to tell 
 under pressure." 
 
 His admiration shone in his eyes. " I will have 
 to make you my partner." 
 
 " I'd rather be your wife," she retorted. " Your 
 last partner did not last long." 
 
 " Oh, Finn Jones? He was a worthless cuss." 
 
 Her face became grave. " You must not allow 
 yourself to become hard, John," she cautioned. 
 " Finn was not worthless. He had had a good 
 many setbacks, and naturally was more timid about 
 going ahead than you. Besides, you two were of 
 entirely different temperaments. Finn was a 
 plodder, used to the old, slow ways, while you 
 were quick, energetic. It was like hitching up a 
 plow horse with a thoroughbred. You worried 
 each other; I do not doubt that you worried
 
 Finn quite as much as he worried you. Poor 
 Finn," she went on more gently. " Bad luck 
 seems to have pursued him. You know he was 
 doing well in Dakota when the wind and rain 
 spoiled all his wheat Then he came back here, 
 and just as he was getting a fresh start his barn 
 burned down with all his season's hay crop. I hate 
 to hear you call him worthless he always works 
 so hard." 
 
 He laughed. " Have it your own way, then. 
 By the way, I have to drive over to Bradbury's 
 to-night to deliver an order, which came in too late 
 to catch the wagon." 
 
 "Oh, do you have to?" she said regretfully. 
 " Why can't you let it go until to-morrow, to-night 
 is " 
 
 " I know," he said, " but business is the 
 main thing nowadays. We must think of that 
 first. Prince will get me there and back in an 
 hour or so." 
 
 " Do you think it safe to drive Prince ? " she 
 said anxiously. " He's so fractious and especially 
 at night " 
 
 " Nonsense," he returned. " He's just a little 
 skittish, like all colts. I'll soon take that out of 
 him." 
 
 " But I have a feeling that it is not just because 
 he's a colt that he acts the way he does. I feel that
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 9 
 
 he is wicked, John, that he means to injure you if 
 he can." 
 
 ;< You seem to give Prince credit for a fine rea- 
 soning mind," he said, laughing. 
 
 She did not respond to his laughter. " I wish 
 you would sell Prince," she urged. " Won't you 
 for my sake?" 
 
 He good-naturedly changed the subject. He did 
 not intend to give up the battle he had been waging 
 against the horse for the last month until Prince 
 was thoroughly subdued. Then, and not until then, 
 would he be willing to sell him. 
 
 It was late when they rose from the table. " I'll 
 have to hurry," he said, " or the Bradburys will be 
 in bed. Will you sit up for me? I'd like a glass 
 of milk and some crackers when I get home. I'll 
 probably be hungry." 
 
 " Oh, yes, I'll wait for you, but you had better 
 hurry back or the neighbors will be inventing all 
 sorts of reasons for your absence. Old Mrs. 
 Hendy, across the street, will be delightfully sure 
 that you have eloped, and the disappointment when 
 you return will be a severe shock to her." 
 
 He laughed, but with reserve. He never entirely 
 could become used to her flippant way of speaking. 
 He kissed her and went out.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 JOHN passed around the side of the house, and 
 went back to the stable. He pulled open the heavy 
 swinging doors, and, taking a lantern from a hook, 
 lighted it. There was a friendly whinny from one 
 of the stalls, and Dolly, the old gray mare, put 
 forth her head to be caressed. Her whole manner 
 seemed to breathe an assurance of affection and 
 trust. 
 
 But in the next stall there was no such demon- 
 stration of affection, or 1 even of tolerance. Prince, 
 a black gelding, snorted in anger at the interrup- 
 tion of his evening meal. He hated this man who 
 had bound him to servitude. His heart raged 
 within him at the thought of his own impotence, 
 for time and time again he had sought to gain his 
 freedom, only to undergo the humiliation of being 
 conquered. He laid back his ears, and his eyes 
 showed rims of white beneath the pupils. 
 
 " We're going for a drive, old boy," said John 
 cheerfully. He felt that the horse wished him to 
 resent his behavior and took delight in tormenting 
 him. 
 
 Prince glared at him evilly. When John came 
 10
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE n 
 
 behind the horse with the harness, Prince crouched 
 down against the side of the stall. 
 
 " Move over there, Prince," John said sharply. 
 
 The horse did not move. His ears clung closer 
 to his head, and his lips twitched open, showing 
 his yellow teeth. John's quick temper flared up : 
 
 " So you're looking for a fight, are you ? Well, 
 you'lLget it." He took down a heavy strap from 
 the wall and advanced upon the horse, his face dark 
 with anger. 
 
 Prince heard the swish and nerved himself for 
 the blow. He flinched, but that was all. Again 
 came the sudden, merciless sting; he crouched, but 
 held his position. Again he snorted with pain; 
 flesh and blood could not stand this ! He moved sul- 
 lenly over, and in a second John was in the stall 
 and had laid hold of the halter rope. The horse 
 was helpless for the time being, and submitted 
 sulkily to being backed between the shafts and 
 hitched up to the buggy. Then he trotted submis- 
 sively down the drive. 
 
 Ruth, standing at the window, wondered. " I 
 guess I was foolish about him," she said to her- 
 self. " He seems gentle enough now." She waved 
 her hand to John, and stood watching until the 
 carriage was lost to her sight. 
 
 John settled back to enjoy the drive. In a mo- 
 ment they had passed through the village and were
 
 12 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 out in the country. The night was clear, and the 
 low, musical hum of myriads of insects was borne 
 to his ears pleasantly. The katydid proclaimed 
 shrilly her centuries-old accusation, and the bull- 
 frog boomed out his melancholy bass in a neigh- 
 boring swamp. The rising moon threw the long 
 shadows of the trees across the road in strange, dis- 
 torted shapes, between which glistened patches of 
 pure white. 
 
 He cast a look around at the beauties of the 
 night, then forgot them, and fell to thinking of 
 Sam Brunt and his business. Presently his thoughts 
 took a different turn. 
 
 " Women are funny," he said to himself. " How 
 Ruth did pitch into me about Finn Jones! But I 
 was right," he went on doggedly, " Finn is a 
 worthless cuss. If he hadn't been speculating and 
 sowing more than he ought, the loss of his wheat 
 wouldn't have ruined him, and, if he had taken in- 
 surance on his barn, its burning down wouldn't have 
 knocked him out. The trouble is, Finn is shiftless, 
 and he is one of those fellows who are always blat- 
 ting about circumstances. A man makes his own 
 circumstances, if he is any good. Napoleon said 
 something like that once, and he was dead right. 
 There isn't anything that can down a man if he 
 is determined to get on. I ought to know thrown 
 out on the world when I was nothing but a child,
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 13 
 
 with a mother to support. Supposing I had sat 
 down and begun to cry about circumstances, where 
 would I have been? But I got out and hustled 
 that's all a man has to do, hustle and keep on hus- 
 tling and use a little common sense." 
 
 He laughed. " Yes, that's what Finn lacks, hus- 
 tle and common sense. Work! Lord, he doesn't 
 know what work is; just rushes at a thing and 
 then drops it." 
 
 From time to time, John felt a vague surprise 
 at Prince's unusual docility, but that it had any sig- 
 nificance never once entered his mind; if it had oc- 
 curred to him, he would have laughed it away. He 
 was one of the men who believe only what can be 
 proved. This class of men are called hard-headed 
 and clear-thinking by their own generation, but how 
 are they characterized by the next? 
 
 The miles rolled leisurely away behind; Prince 
 was not traveling at his accustomed speed. Finally 
 John thought of a thick, black cigar in his pocket. 
 He reached for it, and settled it between his teeth, 
 searching through his pockets for a match. At 
 first he could not find one. 
 
 " What infernal luck ! " he growled. 
 
 But there was one, and at last he found it. In- 
 stantly it assumed an important place in his life. 
 There it was his last match. Should the wind 
 there was a gentle breeze blowing extinguish it,
 
 14 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 he would be plunged into the deepest gloom. On 
 the other hand, if its flame lasted long enough to 
 ignite the cigar, he would be happy out of all pro- 
 portion to the cause. He examined the head, and 
 was gratified to find that it was large and well 
 formed. It was a worthy sample of its class. He 
 considered gravely whether he had better strike it 
 on the sole of his shoe or on the iron alongside the 
 seat, and decided in favor of the iron; his shoe might 
 be damp from walking across the lawn at home. He 
 stopped Prince, and half turned in his seat to face 
 the wind. 
 
 Prince knew, by the inexplicable instinct which 
 animals have, that his master was off his guard. 
 He gathered himself for a spring. The match 
 flared up. He was off like a shot. 
 
 John's first thought was one of anger that he 
 had failed to get a light. He swore at the horse, 
 and jerked viciously on the lines. But Prince had 
 the bit firmly between his teeth, and John's strength 
 counted for no more than the puny efforts of a 
 child. Slowly it dawned, on the man that the 
 horse was running away. A mile ahead, less than 
 a mile, there was a sharp turn in the road where 
 it ran alongside a gully. If he could not stop 
 Prince before that was reached, the chances were 
 that there would be a bad accident. A sudden fear 
 of impending disaster clutched at his heart, but he
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 15 
 
 dismissed the fear almost as soon as it was born. 
 He had conquered the animal before, he would do 
 it again. 
 
 Prince was fired with the thought of success. 
 At last he was the master: that helpless thing back 
 there in the wagon was his to do with as he pleased. 
 And he meant to kill him, kill him if it meant his 
 own death as well. Prince knew as exactly as did 
 John where the gully was, and into it he meant to 
 hurl himself, pulling after him the carriage in which 
 was the man he hated. 
 
 A savage joy, the heritage of some wild ancestor 
 of the plains, awoke in him and wrought a frenzy 
 in his brain. An irresistible passion for liberty 
 surged through his veins. His nostrils dilated, and 
 he shook his head joyfully. What mattered it 
 whether or not he died ? He was free free ! Every 
 hoof-beat cried out in exultation he was free! 
 
 The man did not lose his head ; he exerted every 
 trick of horsemanship he knew, but it was useless; 
 the maddened horse resisted all efforts at control. 
 They were nearing the gully now, John could see the 
 trees lining its edge. It was characteristic of the 
 man that he never once thought of jumping: he was 
 one of the kind who stick to the ship until the last. 
 
 Could he make the turn ? There was one chance 
 in a thousand. He gathered himself for the effort. 
 A second, and they had reached the bend. John
 
 16 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 rose in his seat, and threw the whole weight of his 
 body on the left rein. It snapped. 
 
 Another second and they were over the brink. 
 There was a snort of pain from Prince, a sicken- 
 ing crash. Something struck the man on the head, 
 and darkness spread before his eyes, but even in 
 that moment his dominance of character asserted 
 itself, even then he would not admit defeat. He 
 struggled against the blackness that was closing in 
 on him, straining open his eyes, gripping frantically 
 at his receding consciousness. 
 
 Could this be his end? No he would not be- 
 lieve it.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 AFTER the carriage had passed out of sight, Ruth 
 turned away from the window, and took up her 
 sewing. Prince's seeming gentleness had reassured 
 her. " Maybe I was foolish about him," she said 
 to herself. 
 
 The intense happiness of the afternoon had given 
 way to a deep content. It seemed wonderful to 
 her that she had John's love, and he was so big 
 and strong, so well able to protect her against the 
 world. She felt sorry for women married to weak, 
 insignificant men. As she stitched on the small gar- 
 ment, she looked out confidently into the joy- 
 laden future. Her crowning happiness of all 
 was yet to come : she was to be a mother. At times 
 it seemed to her as if she would be smothered by 
 the emotion that surged into her breast when she 
 thought of her child. Motherhood was not a light 
 matter to her; she looked upon it as a sacred privi- 
 lege. She prayed nightly that she might be worthy, 
 might bring up her child to be good and true, to 
 love his fellow-man and respect his Maker. If it 
 were a boy, she would wish him to be like John, 
 to grow up big and strong and masterful. She 
 
 17
 
 i8 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 would not want him to be quite so stern, though. 
 A tiny pucker appeared in her brow, but the next 
 instant it was smoothed away. She hoped the child 
 would be a boy, yet sometimes the companionship 
 of a daughter appealed to her more, a daughter 
 who would love her, and care for her when she 
 was old. 
 
 Finally she laid aside her sewing, and leaned 
 back in her chair, giving herself up to pleasurable 
 thoughts. Gradually her eyelids drooped. She 
 slept. 
 
 She was awakened by a feeling of apprehension. 
 It seemed almost as if John were crying out to her. 
 
 She started up. " What is it, John ? " she called. 
 " I am here here in the library." 
 
 But no John answered. She ran to the doer, 
 and looked out on the porch. She went around the 
 corner of the house, and back to the barn, but it 
 was empty, save for old Dolly, who was placidly 
 crunching on her hay. She returned uncertainly to 
 the house. 
 
 " I must have been dreaming," she told herself, 
 yet the vague impression of disaster remained. 
 
 She looked at the clock. It was after nine. John 
 should have been home before this. In a flash it 
 came to her; there had been an accident, and John 
 needed her. Without waiting to get her hat and 
 coat, she ran to the barn.
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 19 
 
 " I must harness up Dolly, and go to him," she 
 said to herself. 
 
 It was hard to take the heavy harness from the 
 peg, it was hard to fit it onto Dolly's back. Ruth 
 was very small, and the horse was large. The girl 
 had to stand on a box which rocked precariously, 
 standing as it did on the straw in the stall. She 
 could not have put on the bridle at all had not Dolly 
 lowered her head helpfully. 
 
 " We must go to John," she kept telling the 
 horse. " We must hurry, we must go to John." 
 
 She led the gray mare out, and backed her be- 
 tween the shafts of the delivery wagon; it was the 
 only vehicle left. 
 
 All this time she would allow but one thought 
 to possess her mind she must reach John as 
 quickly as possible, but now, when she climbed into 
 the wagon, and there was nothing to do but wait, 
 while Dolly plodded along, the full force of terror 
 swept over her. She could see the accident as if 
 it were happening before her eyes, the frightened, 
 plunging horse, the efforts of his driver to quiet 
 him, the sudden dash forward, the carriage striking 
 against a tree, or no the gully! 
 
 Yes; that was the place: she was sure of it. 
 Prince had overturned the carriage down the gully. 
 A sob of dismay escaped from her lips. She urged 
 Dolly, on. The beauty of the night grated on her
 
 20 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 nerves. Was it possible that this was the same 
 night that she had thought so perfect? Now every- 
 thing was changed. In every shadow lurked a fear, 
 in every patch of moonlight John's face, white and 
 cold. There was a sinister quality in the air, and 
 the breeze, stirring the tree-tops, drew from them 
 moans and sighings. A tall tree, shattered by light- 
 ning, raised its gaunt arms to heaven, standing 
 ghostly in the moonlight, and she almost cried out 
 at the sight of it. The howling of a dog in the 
 distance brought added terror to her heart. She 
 remembered the old wives' fable, that a dog always 
 howls when some one dies. 
 
 " John," she cried wildly, " wait for me ! I am 
 coming ! " She spoke the words again and again, 
 as if he could hear them. 
 
 Then her mind became calmer. " I must not be 
 foolish," she told herself. " It may have been only 
 a dream." 
 
 Hope, so far lying dormant, sprang up. 
 " Maybe when I go around the next turn in the road 
 I shall see him driving along, and find that nothing 
 has happened." 
 
 Under the sway of the new emotion, she could 
 almost hear his laugh when he saw her, and aft- 
 erwards his tender words, when he knew how 
 frightened she had been. 
 
 But the bend was passed, and John did not come.
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 21 
 
 Disappointment, coming swiftly on the heels of 
 hope, doubled her fears. She could believe only the 
 worst now. Her mind reeled under its misery, and 
 her heart beat in great, straining throbs, that shook 
 her whole body. Her hands trembled so that she 
 could hardly hold the reins. 
 
 It seemed countless ages before the gully came 
 in sight. She was so sure that it was there the 
 disaster had occurred that she scarcely looked along 
 the rest of the road. Now she stood up, lashing 
 Dolly frantically, and calling out to her, for God's 
 sake to hurry ! Her tone aroused the old gray mare 
 to a sense of calamity, and she broke into a lum- 
 bering gallop. Ruth strained her eyes to catch a 
 glimpse of the hand-rail at the edge of the gully. 
 If that were unbroken! At first she thought it was. 
 It seemed to stretch its silver threadlike course 
 uninterrupted along the edge of the abyss. A cry 
 of joy broke from her lips. How foolish she had 
 been! She raised her head, and drank in the cool 
 night air. How beautiful everything was! The 
 chirp of the crickets came to her ear like a benedic- 
 tion. The breeze echoed her relief in friendly mur- 
 murings among the tree-tops. Some wild flowers 
 by the roadside offered up their fragrance as an 
 incense. Everything was peaceful and beautiful. 
 Yes, she had been foolish. It had been only a 
 dream. Probably John had taken the other road
 
 22 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 home, and that is why she had missed meeting him. 
 She looked up at the stars, and smiled. 
 
 Then her eyes came back to the hand-rail. Her 
 heart seemed to stop beating. There, in the mid- 
 dle, was a great gap. She could see the splintered 
 ends. One piece, broken off, lay on the brink of 
 the gully, pointing derisively down into the black- 
 ness. 
 
 She stopped the horse, and half climbed, half 
 fell out of the wagon, and gazed fearfully down 
 into the darkness. She could distinguish nothing 
 but the trees and underbrush, yet she knew that 
 somewhere down there was John, perhaps, prob- 
 ably, dead. Without thinking, she sprang down 
 the steep incline. She fell, rolling over and over, 
 striking against trees and bushes, until, bruised and 
 breathless, she brought up against the shattered 
 buggy. She lay still a moment, stunned; then she 
 sat up weakly. 
 
 " John! " she called, in a trembling voice. " Oh, 
 John!" 
 
 There was no answer, save the erratic beating 
 of her own heart. She stared about her wildly, 
 seeking to pierce the gloom. She tried to rise to 
 her feet, but found that she lacked the strength. 
 She crawled forward, groping for her husband, cry- 
 ing out to him, hoping against hope that he might 
 hear her. Her body was full of pain now, and
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 23 
 
 she felt deathly sick and faint, but she clenched her 
 teeth. " I must find him. I must," she sobbed. 
 
 She crawled aimlessly this way and that, often 
 covering the same ground a second and third time. 
 Then she stopped, and considered. 
 
 " I will never find him this way," she moaned. 
 " I must take each side separately." 
 
 And at last she found him, lying in an inert 
 heap. She fell upon him, covering his cold face 
 with kisses, begging him to speak to her. Sud- 
 denly his eyelids fluttered under her lips. 
 
 " He is alive," she told herself in a kind of won- 
 dering joy. " John is alive. I must get help." 
 
 She staggered to her feet, imbued with new 
 strength. But how could she ever get out of the 
 gully ? She forced her mind back to steady action. 
 There must be a way out. She used to come here 
 and play with her dolls when she was a little girl. 
 Yes, there must be a way, but where? She stood 
 swaying, holding to a tree for support. Where 
 was it? Oh ! now she knew; there was a path lead- 
 ing up from the little stream, but where was the 
 stream? She held her breath, listening for the 
 gurgle of its waters. She heard it, faintly at first, 
 then louder as she made her unsteady way toward 
 it. And she found the path winding steeply up the 
 bank. She wondered how she could ever accom- 
 plish the climb. She remembered that even as a
 
 24 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 child she could hardly do it, and she had been a 
 strong, agile youngster. Now! She paused in de- 
 spair. Then she rallied herself. " It is for John," 
 she urged. " I must do it for John." 
 
 She started up, slipping, crawling, grasping at 
 bushes for aid, clawing at stones, until her hands 
 were torn and bleeding. But she would not give 
 up. It was for John. She must for John ! Half- 
 way up she fainted, but with the first glimmer of 
 consciousness she struggled on. The path was not 
 so steep here, and she gained inch by inch. 
 
 At last she reached the top, and sought to climb 
 into the wagon. She tried again and again, but fell 
 back exhausted. So she desisted, and, clinging 
 weakly to Dolly's bridle, turned her faltering steps 
 toward the nearest house. 
 
 Fortunately the farmer was just locking up for 
 the night, when the little cavalcade moved up to 
 the door, and so he heard Ruth stagger onto the 
 porch. He opened the door and stood looking in 
 amazement at the bedraggled figure. She whis- 
 pered the news, and fell fainting at his feet. He 
 picked her up, and carried her with rough tender- 
 ness into the house, and gave her into his wife's 
 charge, while he aroused the hired man, and started 
 for the gully. 
 
 Then came eternities of time when Ruth's frame 
 was racked with agony, when horrible shapes op-
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 25 
 
 pressed her dreams grinning fiends snatching John 
 from her arms, and rending him limb from limb, 
 and her with him. There were blessed intervals 
 of oblivion, then awakenings again to the awful 
 torture. She seemed to be floating in a sea of pain 
 why, she knew not; there was room in her mind 
 for but one emotion suffering. Days passed into 
 nights, and nights into other days, but the divisions 
 of time meant nothing to her. 
 
 At last glimmering reason returned, and she 
 heard a faint wail and knew. She stretched forth 
 her arms to receive the tiny bundle, but the effort 
 was too great, and blackness overpowered her. 
 From time to time she roused to hear the wailing 
 cry, and it comforted her, but there came a day 
 when she heard it no more. She asked for her baby, 
 pleading with her eyes, for she was too weak to 
 speak, and they endeavored to soothe her with en- 
 dearing meaningless phrases. 
 
 As soon as she could talk, she demanded her child. 
 They lied to her at first, and tried to quiet her, but 
 she would not be quieted. So at last they told her 
 the child was dead. She gave one despairing cry, 
 and sank into unconsciousness. After this she hov- 
 ered on the border line between life and death for 
 weeks. When she again became conscious, she did 
 not ask for the child, nor did she refer to it. Now 
 her one hope was John.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 NEVER, in its recent history, had Harbury known 
 such a sensation as that to which it awoke on the 
 morning after the accident. The news flew from 
 mouth to mouth until there was not a man, woman, 
 or child in the village who was ignorant of the 
 fact that John Lawson had been probably fatally 
 injured, and that his wife also was lying at the 
 point of death. It was on the stroke of seven when 
 Doctor Northall, leaving John's house, told Jed 
 Tyler, who happened to be passing. At seven-fifteen 
 it would have been impossible to surprise a person 
 in Harbury with the news; everyone had heard it. 
 
 In the human mind there is a craving for excite- 
 ment which at times overshadows every other emo- 
 tion. Especially is this craving rampant in small 
 villages where excitement is a rarity. It is safe to 
 say that Harbury as a whole had not been as happy 
 as it was that day since the spectacular fire which 
 had destroyed Finn Jones's barn. 
 
 Nor did the excitement die down when it was 
 learned that a child had been born to Ruth and 
 that both it and the mother were very near to death. 
 When it did die, a public funeral was planned by 
 
 26
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 27 
 
 the farmer's wife, at whose house Ruth was lying 
 unconscious. All Harbury turned out to this fu- 
 neral. Mrs. Bradbury rose from a bed of sickness 
 to attend, and basked in the light of reflected im- 
 portance, for it had been her house to which John 
 was going when the accident happened. As she 
 said, if she had not taken a notion to run into the 
 store and order a case of canned corn, the accident 
 would not have occurred. She was, therefore, 
 looked upon as a modest tool in the hands of 
 Providence. 
 
 The obsequies of the tiny mite were rendered 
 more interesting by the fact that it had not been 
 baptized before it died, and discussion ran high as 
 to whether or not its soul had found a refuge in 
 heaven. It may seem strange that anyone would 
 attribute to the Deity the damning of a soul least 
 of all a baby's soul on a mere technicality, but it 
 is hardly stranger than the opinion held by prac- 
 tically all of Harbury, that it was God Himself 
 who had brought about the accident as a punish- 
 ment for the sinful levity of John Lawson's wife. 
 
 But as the weeks went by, and neither John nor 
 Ruth died, the excitement subsided, to be replaced 
 by a vague disappointment the inexplicable feel- 
 ing of regret one has on looking through an obitu- 
 ary column, and finding there the name of no one 
 whom one knows. Still there was one interesting
 
 topic of conversation left the financial condition 
 of the Lawsons. 
 
 John was still unconscious and helpless, and those 
 who had it direct from Doctor Northall declared 
 that he would never be any better. His mother was 
 trying to run the store, but after the first few days, 
 during which crowds had flocked in to find out, 
 under cover of a purchase, how she was standing 
 the calamity, trade had rapidly fallen off. It was 
 the general verdict that she would have to sell out. 
 The presence of Sam Brunt in Harbury gave color 
 to this prediction, and it was rumored that he had 
 already made an offer which Mrs. Lawson, Sr., 
 was considering. 
 
 The dashing of anyone from a pinnacle is always 
 an enlivening sight, and it was not otherwise in 
 this case. John Lawson had been recognized as a 
 coming man, and was envied accordingly, while 
 Ruth's light spirits, and no less, her dresses, had 
 caused jealousy in the breast of feminine Harbury. 
 So the community loudly expressed sympathy, and 
 secretly rejoiced, looking forward to the outcome of 
 all this with as keen interest as was occasioned by 
 the struggles to the death in the Coliseum of an- 
 cient Rome. 
 
 Ruth did not learn of John's condition for some 
 time. They had told her that John was all right, 
 and explained his absence from her bedside by tell-
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 29' 
 
 ing her that he was confined to his house by a broken 
 leg. But when she wished to dictate a letter to 
 him, asking him to write to her, they could keep 
 her no longer in ignorance. 
 
 She did not weep, her misery was too great. 
 She lay wordless, praying that she might die, pray- 
 ing with all the religious fervor of her nature that 
 this cup might be permitted to pass from her, that 
 she might sink into grateful death, and be buried 
 with her baby. 
 
 But inexorable Nature decreed that she should 
 live, and day by day she felt the strength creep back 
 into her body. Then a new train of thought awak- 
 ened in her mind ; it was her duty to get well so that 
 she might care for John. From the moment this 
 thought laid hold upon her, she did all she could 
 to regain her health. Yet spring melted into sum- 
 mer, and summer hardened into fall, before she was 
 strong enough to be taken home. 
 
 It was not until then that she realized the full 
 force of the calamity. Instead of the home to which 
 she had expected to come, she was brought to a 
 little cottage in the poor part of the town, where 
 John and his mother were now living. The lease on 
 the other house had been given up, not, however, 
 without the payment of a bonus, for the old deacon 
 who owned it did not believe in mixing business and 
 charity. The money which had been derived from
 
 30 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 the sale of the store was all that stood between them 
 and starvation and it was a pitifully small sum. 
 John's mother told Ruth all this between sobs, but 
 the news, instead of daunting the girl, stimulated 
 her. 
 
 " I will work," she said. " I must hurry and get 
 well, and then I will find something to do. We 
 shall come out all right." 
 
 The older woman wrung her hands. " Oh, that 
 my son's wife should come to this! " she moaned. 
 
 Ruth put her arms around the trembling form. 
 " Don't worry, mother," she comforted. " Every- 
 thing will come out all right. I do not mind work- 
 ing. Indeed, it will be best for me to have my mind 
 occupied. And maybe some day John will be well 
 again." 
 
 " We can only hope and pray. Oh, Ruth ! why 
 has God sent this thing to us? John was always 
 such a good boy. Why should he be stricken down 
 like this? It doesn't seem right. I can't believe 
 that it can be for the best." 
 
 Ruth stroked the gray hair. " We must try not 
 to think of it," she said tenderly. " Some day we 
 may know. Will you let me see John now ? " 
 
 The old lady rose and led the way. " You will 
 see a great difference," she said sadly. 
 
 But even this did not prepare Ruth. She stag- 
 gered back aghast at the sight of his thin, white
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 31 
 
 face. It seemed to her as if he surely must be 
 dead. He lay as motionless as a corpse, and there 
 was not a sign of color in his face to make it lifelike. 
 It was as white as the bandage bound tightly around 
 his head. Ruth would not have known that it was 
 John at all, from his features. It seemed to her 
 as if it were a stranger lying there. She could 
 hardly persuade herself to go near him, and when 
 she did, and knelt by his bedside, taking his cold 
 hand in hers, she had a feeling of unreality. It 
 seemed impossible that this was her John. She was 
 glad to escape from the room. 
 
 That night she helped John's mother to get the 
 supper. She was determined now to be strong; 
 she had a powerful incentive; she must work for 
 John. 
 
 The next morning she paid a visit which she had 
 long had in mind. 
 
 " Doctor Northall," she began abruptly, when she 
 was admitted to his office, " what are the chances 
 of John's recovery? " 
 
 The doctor, a gray-haired old man, his face 
 seamed with the cares and worries of a lifetime of 
 toil for his fellow-man, forced a smile to his face. 
 
 " Splendid ! " he exclaimed. " John has a 
 rugged constitution. He is young. Everything is 
 in his favor. He " 
 
 Ruth held up her hand to stop him. " I want
 
 32 
 
 the truth, doctor," she said quietly. " It is mis- 
 taken kindness to tell me anything else." 
 
 His face became serious. " You are right," he 
 said, after a moment. " The truth is kindest. You 
 ask me what are your husband's chances of recov- 
 ery. I am afraid, Ruth, that they are slight. There 
 is some obscure process, possibly a clot, exerting 
 pressure at the base of the brain." 
 
 " Couldn't an operation be performed ? " 
 
 He shook his head. " There would not be one 
 chance in a thousand of its being a success. It 
 would probably mean instant death." 
 
 "Won't he ever be any better?" faltered Ruth. 
 " Will he always be just as he is now?" 
 
 " Not necessarily. If the trouble is from a clot, 
 there is a good chance that it may be absorbed, 
 and then he will be all right again." 
 
 " And if it isn't that if it is something else? " 
 
 " He may die. He may live on for some time 
 as he is." 
 
 Ruth rose. " Thank you, doctor, for telling me 
 the truth." She extended her hand, and smiled 
 bravely. 
 
 The old man's face twitched. " My brave little 
 girl," he said pityingly. He tried to say more, but 
 his voice choked. 
 
 When she had gone, he paced the floor with trou- 
 bled strides.
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 33 
 
 " And I am helpless," he groaned. " I am as 
 helpless as a student at his first complicated case. 
 What a fool I am!" He blamed himself for his 
 lack of knowledge. " I am a fool, a poor igno- 
 rant fool. If they only had money," he went on 
 despondently, " so that they could command the 
 services of Doctor Winfield or Doctor Barney, I be- 
 lieve the operation could be attempted. It would 
 mean death or a cure, but, God knows, he would be a 
 thousand times better off dead than he is now. 
 Money ! " he exclaimed bitterly. " Everything 
 hinges on money. Sometimes I think that those 
 who devote their lives to amassing it are wisest, 
 after all." 
 
 Ruth turned back down the street after her con- 
 versation with the physician. There was a singu- 
 lar calmness in her mind. Now she could enter 
 the fight without fear of ambush she knew the 
 worst. As she drew near John's old store, the 
 thought of seeing another name over the door gave 
 a pang. She started to cross the street, intending 
 to go by without looking, but she would not allow 
 herself to be guilty of such weakness. " I will 
 have to get used to it sooner or later," she told 
 herself. When she reached the store, she glanced 
 up at the sign, and nodded to Sam Brunt, standing, 
 fat and complacent, in the doorway. She even 
 forced herself to ask him how the business was
 
 34 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 coming on. Then she went on, feeling stronger for 
 the conquest of self. 
 
 She met many people she knew, most of whom 
 stopped to sympathize with her, but there was a 
 curiosity showing beneath their sympathy which 
 grated upon her nerves. Only one made her feel 
 true, unaffected sympathy. This one was Finn 
 Jones. 
 
 He stopped awkwardly before her, brushing his 
 soft hat nervously between his coarse hands. 
 
 " I'm damn sorry, Ruth," he exploded, and grew 
 fiery red. 
 
 " I know you are, Finn," she answered, smiling 
 at him, " and I appreciate it." 
 
 " Ain't there nuthin' I kin do ? Don't ye want 
 anyone to set up with him or nuthin' like thet? 
 I'd be glad if ye'd let me." 
 
 " No," she answered, " but if I do want anyone 
 to help me, I will come to you, Finn." 
 
 She went on, cheered by the man's kindliness 
 but the feeling was dashed by her meeting with the 
 minister of the church which she and John had at- 
 tended. Ruth had never liked the Reverend Doc- 
 tor Peabody. He was hard and cold; his heart con- 
 tained little, if any, milk of human kindness. On 
 Christmas and Easter he preached of the love and 
 mercy of God, and on the other fifty Sundays, of 
 His wrath. He loved to dwell upon the torments
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 35 
 
 of hell, and delighted quite as much that the souls 
 of all who differed from him in their theological 
 views would be thrown into everlasting torment as 
 he did that his own, with a limited number of oth- 
 ers, should dwell in everlasting bliss. 
 
 Ruth tried to avoid him, but he stopped her, 
 and she was forced to listen while he emphasized 
 the need of her bending her neck to the yoke, and 
 rejoicing in the blow that had come upon her. He 
 intimated that her trouble was a divine plan for 
 her regeneration. 
 
 She listened in silence, her heart too bitter to 
 retort, and finally broke away and hurried home. 
 
 " To-morrow," she told John's mother, " I will 
 look for something to do." 
 
 The older woman protested that it would be bet- 
 ter to wait until she was stronger. But Ruth was 
 determined. 
 
 " It will be better for me to have something to 
 do. I will begin to look for something to-morrow."
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 SPRING had come again, but it brought no happi- 
 ness to the Lawson household. John's physical con- 
 dition had improved; he could now sit up in an 
 invalid's chair, but his mentality rose no higher 
 than the cutting out of paper dolls, over which he 
 chattered and crooned like a child of three. The 
 sight of him -in this condition was agony to Ruth 
 and his mother, and yet they had to praise his ef- 
 forts or else he felt hurt, and would grow sulky, 
 refusing to eat. At first Doctor Northall had 
 derived hope from the patient's improved health, 
 but as the days went by and John's mind still re- 
 mained hopelessly feeble, he was led to fear the 
 very worst that John might live to be an old 
 man, waxing strong in body, while his mind 
 remained a wreck. 
 
 Ruth's search for work had proved futile. In 
 Harbury there is a prejudice against a woman's 
 entering commercial life. Her sphere, so the 
 prejudice argues, is the home, and if it is necessary 
 that she earn her daily bread, why then she should 
 enter some other woman's home, where she is per- 
 mitted to do the menial labor in return for her 
 
 36
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 37 
 
 board and lodging and a very small sum of money. 
 Or, if she prefer, she may toil long hours with the 
 needle, or take in washing; but enter the rougher, 
 harder commercial life no! 
 
 Ruth had flung herself against this barrier again 
 and again, only to be driven back, for a New Eng- 
 land prejudice is not to be beaten down by anything 
 but time, and plenty of it. So at last she had been 
 forced to bow to it, and take in sewing. The pay 
 was meager, and Ruth was neither expert at dress- 
 making nor was she thick-skinned enough to en- 
 dure with composure the bully ings of the women for 
 whom she worked, so her life relapsed into long- 
 drawn-out days of misery. Still she toiled on, hop- 
 ing against hope, but the money she was able to 
 earn was not enough to defray expenses, and her 
 little capital was steadily dwindling, until now she 
 had reached the point when some new endeavor 
 must be undertaken. She laid her sewing wearily 
 aside. 
 
 " Mother," she said to the old lady, who was 
 bustling around preparing supper, " it is useless to 
 go on in this way. I cannot make enough to sup- 
 port us here. I must go somewhere else : I must go 
 to a city. New York, I think, would be the best 
 place." 
 
 The older woman dropped a dish she was car- 
 rying, and it crashed to the floor unnoticed.
 
 38 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 " Not that ! " she cried. " Oh, my dear, surely 
 not that!" 
 
 " I am afraid it must be that," answered Ruth. 
 " You know how I have tried to get something to 
 do besides sewing, and I have failed. Our money is 
 going. In New York I would be able to earn more. 
 I could soon send for you and John." 
 
 The old lady sat down in a chair, and folded 
 her trembling hands. 
 
 "If I could only help!" she said sorrowfully. 
 " But I am too old. This morning I went to see 
 Mrs. Braddock. I knew she wanted some one to 
 cook for her, and I am a good cook. I asked her 
 to try me. She meant to be very kind, but I could 
 see that she did not want me because I am so old." 
 
 " Oh, mother," remonstrated Ruth, " you 
 shouldn't have done that ! It wasn't necessary for 
 you to do that! " 
 
 " Ruth," faltered the other, " I can't let you go 
 to New York. I am afraid. Wait a little while 
 longer. Maybe a way will be shown. I can't be- 
 lieve that God has forgotten us. He will come 
 to our aid." 
 
 Ruth replied, with a trace of bitterness in her 
 voice : " We have waited. If we wait much longer, 
 we shall be tied hand and foot. I do not like the 
 idea of leaving you, and going to New York, yet 
 it seems the only way. Our money will not last
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 39 
 
 much longer. When it is gone, it will be too late. 
 We must act now. Besides," she went on more 
 cheerfully, " we shall be separated for only a short 
 time, a few weeks perhaps. As soon as I find a 
 position, and I know it will not be long before I 
 do, I will send for you and John. And I am sure 
 to get on. You know, John always said I was very 
 smart about business. We will live in New York, 
 and we will be happy. Perhaps some day John 
 will be well again." 
 
 But the older woman did not share her cheer- 
 ful view. She had not the buoyant hope of youth. 
 To her it seemed as if Ruth were going amongst 
 a pack of ravening wolves. She feared for the 
 girl. She mistrusted the city. She had seen other 
 girls go out from their homes and enter the gates 
 of the metropolis, some of them to drift back again 
 in after years shattered wrecks, others to be lost 
 sight of completely. A great bitterness welled up 
 in her soul. Was this her reward for a lifetime 
 of right living to see her son a hopeless wreck, 
 and his wife compelled to leave her home and go 
 out into the world to wrest from it a living ? 
 
 An hour later, Ruth knelt by her open window, 
 gazing out into the night. It was only a year 
 less than a year ago that John was hurt, yet it 
 seemed ages. Then she was a happy, care-free girl ; 
 now she was a woman, weighed down with respon-
 
 40 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 sibility, with her way to make in the world. She 
 thought of the child who had died, and was glad 
 of its death. It was free from the problems, the 
 relentless circumstances that were crushing her. 
 
 The village of Harbury lay white and peaceful 
 in the moonlight. All her life Ruth had lived in 
 this little village, and she loved it. Her father and 
 mother had died when she was but a small child, 
 and an aunt had taken her to bring up. She had 
 been good to Ruth, and shielded her from every 
 care. So the girl's life had been like a calmly 
 flowing river. Even her love for John had not dis- 
 turbed its placidity. Their friendship had ripened 
 so easily and naturally into love that she had expe- 
 rienced none of the heartaches, the jealousies that 
 come to other women in this most happy period of 
 their lives. John had had no rival, nor had she. 
 For once the course of true love had run smooth. 
 When John had become established in business, 
 they were married. Ruth was only nineteen at the 
 time. 
 
 Looking out into the star-strewn sky, she won- 
 dered if her life would ever run smoothly again. 
 It seemed to her as if the river had now flowed 
 out into the sea to be exposed to the tempest and 
 tumult of the elements. She was to leave John, 
 to fare forth into an unknown land. And yet the 
 thought of leaving him came as a relief. It was
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 41 
 
 far less hard to be parted from him altogether than 
 to see him day after day, a caricature of his former 
 self. Still there was the depression of broken ties, 
 the sadness of ending the old life. 
 
 But Ruth was young, and to the young hope is 
 easy. As she turned her thoughts to the future, 
 her spirits revived, and she was almost happy as 
 she speculated about her life in New York. She 
 had never been there, and all that she knew about 
 it was what she had derived from books, and yet 
 she thought of it with a kind of love. It was New 
 York, the city of opportunity, as entrancing and 
 romantic as a fairy city. Who could tell what gift 
 it had in store for her? 
 
 She imagined herself taking her place in the in- 
 dustrial life. She might begin in the offices of 
 some great law firm, or possibly in one of the great 
 banking houses of Wall Street, or maybe in a store 
 although that she would not like so well. But, 
 at any rate, she would be one of the cogs in the 
 great commercial machine that made it the fore- 
 most city in the world. She would be a Nevr 
 Yorker. The thought gave her a feeling of 
 satisfaction. 
 
 She meant to work hard; she realized that work 
 was the basis of success. She was not going to 
 the city like a foolish, silly girl, dreaming of the 
 lights, the crowds, the good times. She was going
 
 42 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 soberly, in earnest. She would strive her utmost, 
 and she felt that her efforts would be rewarded. 
 Life must give up its best to those who try hard- 
 est; otherwise, it would be but a hollow mockery. 
 
 And then she prayed, flinging her hopes, her 
 fears, her desires out into the void, trustful that 
 she would be answered in due season. 
 
 When she arose from her knees, the first streaks 
 of daylight were beginning to tint the sky in the 
 east.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 THE train for New York was pulling out of Bos- 
 ton. In the car in which Ruth was seated there 
 were few passengers. Across the aisle from her 
 was a floridly well-dressed man, who looked as 
 though he might be a commercial traveler. He had 
 already made several attempts to attract her atten- 
 tion, and Ruth was very indignant, very embar- 
 rassed, and a little frightened. In Harbury such 
 a procedure was unknown, and now that she was 
 traveling alone and among strangers it discon- 
 certed her. 
 
 She had left Harbury early that morning. The 
 parting from John's mother had been extremely 
 painful to the girl. The old lady broke down com- 
 pletely and implored Ruth to give up the venture. 
 She had had, she said, a dream which boded ill 
 for the girl. Just what the dream portended she 
 did not know, but she was sure that some great evil 
 lurked in the future. 
 
 And, if the parting from John's mother had been 
 hard, the parting from John was doubly so. At 
 the very last Ruth threw herself on his breast, and 
 concentrated the whole power of her love in an 
 
 43
 
 44 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 attempt to awaken his recognition. It was vain. 
 Once the shadow of some emotion flitted across 
 his face, and she thought that she was about to 
 succeed, but it passed, leaving the features as va- 
 cant and meaningless as before. 
 
 But all that was over now, and she felt a curi- 
 ous lightness of heart She was already embarked 
 on the new life; every minute was sweeping her 
 nearer New York, the land of promise. And, when 
 her thoughts did stray back to Harbury, she re- 
 called them, and sent them out into the future to 
 speculate on the success that was to be hers. 
 
 Behind her were a party of theatrical people; 
 this much Ruth gleaned from their conversation, to 
 which she gradually found herself listening. They 
 assailed each other with light-hearted banter, and 
 one girl especially seemed to be the object of at- 
 tack; but she was so quick, so invariably apt in 
 her retorts, that her assailant was always left an 
 object of hilarious commiseration, and acknowl- 
 edged himself or herself as the case might be de- 
 feated, with entire good humor. 
 
 Ruth could not understand all their talk, being 
 neither acquainted with things theatrical, nor con- 
 versant with metropolitan slang, but their light- 
 heartedness appealed to and encouraged her. She 
 felt that these people had engaged in the battle of 
 life, and, if they did carry scars, they hid them
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 45 
 
 admirably under a happy exterior. She felt im- 
 pelled to turn around and see what these merry 
 people looked like. She waited for some moments, 
 debating how best to accomplish this observation 
 without her action seeming too apparent. At last, 
 just as the whole party were roaring with laughter 
 over a particularly witty sally of the girl's, she 
 turned. 
 
 By some process of telepathy, the girl glanced 
 up at the same instant, and Ruth found her- 
 self gazing directly into the eyes of a young 
 woman of about her own age. She was dressed 
 in a rather conspicuous black-and-white costume, 
 and her hat was just a shade larger than the very 
 large hats which Dame Fashion had decreed were 
 the proper thing that season. The face was at- 
 tractive, with an impudent, piquant beauty, and the 
 clear, friendly, gray eyes gave an impression of 
 frank good humor. Before Ruth could recover 
 herself, and shift her gaze, a friendly smile lighted 
 up the girl's face, and she nodded brightly. Ruth 
 returned the smile, a feeling of warmth creeping 
 into her heart. 
 
 As Ruth turned back, the smile still on her face, 
 her glance happened to meet that of the man across 
 the aisle, whom she had completely forgotten. To 
 her dismay, he bowed and raised his hat. She turned 
 to the window, biting her lip in vexation.
 
 46 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 The man rose and strolled leisurely to the front 
 of the car, ostensibly to get a drink of water. As 
 he turned to come back, the conviction leaped into 
 Ruth's mind that he meant to take the seat 
 beside her; she was as sure of it as if he had already 
 done so. A sudden panic seized her. She cast a 
 wild look around for a way of escape. Then 
 she thought of the girl who had smiled at her. 
 She threw an appealing glance over her shoulder. 
 The girl was not looking at her, but at the man, 
 yet suddenly she rose, and sauntered deliberately 
 forward, dropping into the seat beside Ruth with 
 easy grace. As she did so, she glanced up at the 
 man with humorous impudence. 
 
 The man frowned, and resumed his former seat. 
 
 Ruth turned to the girl with a quick smile of 
 gratitude. " Oh, thank you ! " she breathed. " I 
 did not know what to do." 
 
 " I guess you're not wise to those Johnnies," re- 
 turned the other in an amused tone. 
 
 " No," answered Ruth truthfully. 
 
 "If you were on the stage, you would soon get 
 used to that sort of thing. Sometimes, when you 
 come out of the theater, you find 'em standing in 
 bunches. And they're always sending you notes 
 and flowers, and begging you to meet them after 
 the show, and all that kind of rot. Sometimes they 
 get so strenuous that it gets tiresome. When I
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 47 
 
 was playing the Western circuit, there was an old 
 duck who used to follow me around from one place 
 to another. I got sick of it, so one night I made 
 myself up to look about forty-nine and a half, and 
 put on a dress that made me look as if I had a 
 shape like a drink of water. Then I went out and 
 met him I had written I would. You ought to 
 have seen his face when he saw me. He was game, 
 and stuck, but I'll bet he had the worst evening he 
 ever had in his life, and I stuck him for champagne, 
 and ordered the most expensive things I could find 
 on the bill of fare." 
 
 She laughed merrily at the recollection, and Ruth 
 smiled, although it did not seem quite right to her 
 for a girl to meet a strange man, nor could she ap- 
 prove of drinking champagne. 
 
 " By the way," the girl went on, " my name's 
 Lory Williams. I hold down a soubrette part in 
 ' The Rajah of Singput.' We're making the jump 
 from Boston to Jersey City. Now," with an en- 
 gaging smile, " you know all about me. Tell me 
 who you are." 
 
 Ruth told her. 
 
 " That's better," said Lory, settling back com- 
 fortably in her seat. " Now we're acquainted. 
 You're from the country, aren't you ? " 
 
 " Yes," answered Ruth, " but I'm going to live 
 in New York," she added, with the instinctive sensi-
 
 48 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 tiveness which dwellers in Arcadia have about their 
 home. 
 
 Lory turned aside a moment to annihilate one 
 of the men of the company, who, seeing her talk- 
 ing to a presentable young woman, had strolled up 
 for an introduction. 
 
 " Run away and sell your papers, little boy," 
 she drawled. " No one asked you to butt into this 
 game." 
 
 The man he was a good-looking young fellow 
 laughed, and bestowed a humorous glance upon 
 Ruth. He turned, and went back to his compan- 
 ions in the face of a storm of good-natured chaff. 
 
 Lory turned back to Ruth. " Going to New York 
 to stay with folks, or " 
 
 " No," answered Ruth proudly, " I'm going there 
 to earn my living. You see, back in Harbury where 
 I live, there is absolutely nothing for a woman who 
 wants to work, to do. So I am going to try New 
 York." 
 
 " What's your graft I mean, what kind of work 
 are you going to do ? " 
 
 " Oh ! anything I can get." 
 
 An expression in which pity was blended with 
 amusement flitted across Lory's face. 
 
 " Know bookkeeping, stenography, typewriting 
 anything like that?" 
 
 " No-o," confessed Ruth, " I don't know any par-
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 49 
 
 ticular thing, but," she added hopefully, " I have 
 had a good education and I think I can learn 
 quickly." 
 
 Lory's face became serious. " Look here," she 
 said gravely, " I don't want to discourage you, and 
 I don't want to butt into your affairs, but for Heav- 
 en's sake, kid," Ruth afterwards learned that 
 " kid " was a term of endearment, " if you don't 
 absolutely have to go to New York, don't do it. 
 Go back where you came from." 
 
 " But I do have to," answered Ruth, and then, 
 drawn out by Lory's abrupt, rather than adroit, 
 questions, she told her all. 
 
 When she had finished, Lory's face was deeply 
 sympathetic. " You are certainly up against tough 
 luck," she observed. 
 
 " Why did you advise me not to go to New 
 York ? " questioned Ruth. 
 
 " Oh, it's all right to go if you have to, only of 
 course it is rather a hard game for a stranger! 
 Still, you may bump up against a good job first 
 thing you can't tell. Where are you going to 
 stay?" 
 
 " I don't know in a boarding-house, I suppose. 
 Do you know of any place ? " 
 
 " You don't want to board," answered Lory de- 
 cidedly. " The boarding-houses you could afford 
 are on the bum, and you'd meet a lot of cheap
 
 50 
 
 skates there who would make you sick of life. 
 There'd be an old maid without any teeth, and a 
 Willie from behind the ribbon counter, who flashes 
 a red tie, and plasters his hair down till it shines, 
 and a bunch of ' has-beens ' who tell you all about 
 the money they used to have. Then there'd be 
 the fat lady who dopes out the society reports, and 
 every morning at the breakfast table hands you out 
 the latest doings of the swells. It's fierce. You 
 don't want to go to one of those joints." 
 
 Ruth laughed at the other's description. " What 
 shall I do then?" 
 
 " Why, get a furnished room for light house- 
 keeping." 
 
 " What do you mean by light housekeeping? " 
 
 " Light-housekeeping rooms are the ones where 
 they let you cook your grub. Some of them have 
 a little gas stove in them, others an oil stove. 
 They're pretty rotten, to tell the truth, but they're 
 better than a boarding-house." 
 
 " How do you know where to find them ? " 
 
 " Look in the paper. There's always a bunch of 
 them advertised. You want to strike out for some- 
 thing on the East Side West Side's too expensive. 
 Somewhere along in the eighties ought to be all 
 right." 
 
 Ruth thanked her, and wrote down the desirable 
 location in a little notebook.
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 51 
 
 " By the way," remarked Lory, " if you're go- 
 ing to beat up a job, you want to get that wedding 
 ring out of sight, and forget you're a Mrs. Em- 
 ployers don't hire married women, if they know 
 it." 
 
 " I thought lots of married women worked," said 
 Ruth, surprised. 
 
 " So they do, but in most cases they go under 
 the name of Miss. You see, employers are wise 
 that married women are more independent than 
 single ones, and, if they're not treated right, they'll 
 do a quick hike. Hope you're not superstitious 
 about the ring, I mean." 
 
 Ruth disclaimed superstition, but the thought of 
 taking off the ring caused her a pang. It would 
 seem like the breaking of one more bond connecting 
 her with John. 
 
 " Do you think I will have much trouble in find- 
 ing something to do ? " Ruth asked her companion. 
 
 " Can't tell anything about it. Sometimes you 
 don't have any trouble at all, but you don't want 
 to get discouraged if you don't get anything the 
 first week. And, remember this, when the em- 
 ployer asks you if you have had experience, tell 
 him yes. No matter what the job is, tell him you 
 know how to do it, and that you have been in that 
 line for five years. If he asks you if you can build 
 an automobile, tell him it's the easiest thing you
 
 52 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 know; your mother taught you when you were a 
 kid." 
 
 " But that would not be honest," protested Ruth. 
 
 " Honest ! " exclaimed Lory in disgust. " Who 
 cares ? What you're after is a job." 
 
 Ruth said nothing more about it, but she deter- 
 mined that this much of Lory's advice she would 
 not take. She could never hope to succeed, she 
 thought, if she started by telling an untruth. 
 
 " Why don't you try for the stage ? " demanded 
 Lory abruptly. " You are pretty, and you have a 
 good shape." 
 
 Ruth blushed, and shrank back a little. " Oh, I 
 couldn't do that ! " In Harbury the theatrical pro- 
 fession was not looked upon as desirable or even 
 respectable. Then Ruth remembered that her com- 
 panion was an actress. 
 
 " Oh, excuse me ! " she cried. " I didn't 
 mean " 
 
 " That's all right, kid ; I'm not stuck on it my- 
 self," she laughed easily. 
 
 By the time the train reached New York, a sin- 
 cere friendship had sprung up between the two girls, 
 as is so often the case where two people of oppo- 
 site types meet. Lory had given Ruth a great many 
 points in regard to her coming life in the city. 
 She impressed upon her that she must not take any 
 commission positions, where she was called upon
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 53 
 
 to buy anything, nor should she pay any attention to 
 the advertisements of " work for ladies to do at 
 home." 
 
 " They're nothing but fakes," she explained. 
 " You go there, and meet a smooth, oily guy, who 
 tells you how you can make all kinds of money, if 
 you'll only buy an outfit to do the work with. If 
 you're an easy mark, you pony up a few bucks, and 
 go home and work your head off making some- 
 thing that you couldn't even give away to save your 
 soul. And another thing don't let any fresh guys 
 speak to you, and don't accept any invitations out 
 to dinner or lunch. You'll probably run up against 
 some employers who will ask you to go with them, 
 so they can talk things over. Don't do it, not even 
 if he looks like a saint on a church window." 
 
 Ruth promised to remember this advice. 
 
 " Now, kid," Lory said affectionately at parting, 
 " write me as soon as you're settled, and as soon as 
 the show breaks up, which will be in a month or 
 so, I'll look you up. If anything should happen 
 in the meantime that you should go broke, let me 
 know, and maybe I can raise a few bucks some- 
 where for you. That's the way I do when I'm 
 broke ; I write to everybody I know, and bone them 
 for money. I generally get enough answers to keep 
 me going for a little while." 
 
 " You are very kind," said Ruth. " I can't tell
 
 54 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 you how much I appreciate it all your kindness to 
 
 me. I " 
 
 " Rats ! " exclaimed Lory, turning away, plainly 
 embarrassed. " Well, so long, kid," she flung over 
 her shoulder cheerfully. " Be good, and don't take 
 any wooden money."
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 RUTH had no trouble in finding the hotel at which 
 Lory had advised her to stay for the night; it was 
 near the station, and Lory had pointed it out be- 
 fore leaving her. She secured a room, and went 
 to bed happy. 
 
 So far, the world seemed a very pleasant place; 
 she had met with nothing but kindness. Even the 
 hotel clerk had been overanxious, it seemed, to 
 please her in regard to a room. He had kept her 
 so long in describing the comparative advantages 
 of different rooms that Ruth at last had to tell him 
 that she was very tired, and wished to become set- 
 tled as quickly as possible. Ruth was too unsophis- 
 ticated to dream that his courtesy arose from the fact 
 that she was pretty. Before the accident to John, she 
 had taken pleasure in her good looks, and, woman- 
 like, had done all she could in the way of dress 
 to enhance her beauty. But, since the great trouble 
 had come into her life, her personal appearance 
 was a matter of indifference to her. She still 
 dressed becomingly, but it was purely from force 
 of habit, and not from any thought she gave as 
 to how she looked. 
 
 55
 
 56 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 She was physically tired from the unaccustomed 
 traveling, but her conversation with Lory had re- 
 freshed her mentally, so she quickly went to sleep 
 almost as soon as her head rested on the somewhat 
 hard pillow. 
 
 When she awoke next morning, the city was well 
 on its way into its day's activity. The thousand 
 noises of its varied energy were blended into one 
 mighty hum, which was borne through the open 
 window to Ruth's ear with a pleasant significance. 
 She listened drowsily for a while to the clanging of 
 the cars, the honking of automobile horns, the roar 
 of the distant elevated. The quick rap-tap of 
 horses' hoofs on the asphalt furnished a high 
 staccato to the rumbling bass of the trucks. 
 This was the life in which she would soon take 
 her place. This was New York, the city of her 
 dreams, and opportunity was even now knocking 
 at her door. 
 
 She reproached herself a little that she was not 
 homesick, but Harbury and John and his mother 
 seemed very far away, very indistinct and dream- 
 like. It seemed years since the train had drawn 
 away from the little station, and she had watched 
 the tiny building grow tinier in the distance, until 
 it finally faded from sight. The past seemed vague. 
 Only the present was real, the present and the 
 future.
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 57 
 
 She rose and dressed leisurely, talking to her- 
 self the while. 
 
 " The first thing to do is to find a room. Right 
 after breakfast, I will begin to look for one. If 
 possible, I must get all settled to-day, so that, bright 
 and early to-morrow morning, I can start out to 
 look for a position." 
 
 A slight depression threatened her as she thought 
 of the ordeal of looking for a position ; New York 
 seemed so big; she would hardly know where to 
 begin. She reassured herself, however, by remem- 
 bering that the advertisements in the papers would 
 tell her just what employers might be in need of her 
 services. 
 
 " I know I will succeed," she told herself hope- 
 fully. " John always said I was very smart about 
 business. I am young and strong, and I have had 
 a good education. There must be lots of girls who 
 have positions who have not had any of my advan- 
 tages. I know I shall succeed." 
 
 With which comforting reflection she finished 
 dressing, and went downstairs. She bought a pa- 
 per at the news stand, and, passing out of the hotel, 
 turned west along Forty-second Street, toward a 
 restaurant which Lory had recommended as being 
 cheap in price, and excellent as to the quality of 
 the food served. She wondered vaguely why all 
 the people were hurrying so. For an instant it
 
 58 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 occurred to her that there must be a fire or an 
 accident down the street, but this did not seem 
 plausible, as there were just as many people hurry- 
 ing in the opposite direction. As she passed the 
 station where she had arrived the night before, an 
 incoming train had discharged its load of com- 
 muters, and they came rushing out through the 
 doors as if in frenzied flight. Ruth was caught in 
 the vortex, and for a moment she was almost car- 
 ried off her feet; she could make no headway in 
 any direction. But, at last, she was caught in a 
 swirl of the current that carried her out of the 
 whirlpool, and, somewhat flushed and breathless, 
 she continued on her way. 
 
 She reached the restaurant, and for a moment 
 hesitated about entering. Glancing through the 
 huge, plate-glass windows, she saw an immense 
 room stretching away as far as the eye could see; 
 she found afterwards that this illusion of length 
 was caused by the simple device of having the en- 
 tire rear wall composed of mirrors. The walls 
 and floor were of white tile, and tables seemingly 
 of mahogany. White-aproned waitresses hurried 
 to and fro with incredible deftness. Ruth feared 
 she had made a mistake, and that this was one of 
 the places catering only to the very rich. But a 
 second reading of the name displayed on the win-
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 59 
 
 dow assured her that it was the restaurant Lory 
 had mentioned, and she went in. 
 
 While she was waiting for her order, she opened 
 the paper to see if there were any rooms adver- 
 tised within the limits of the territory prescribed 
 by Lory. There were any number of them. She 
 felt that she would have no trouble in securing a 
 room. When the waitress brought the eggs and 
 toast which Ruth had ordered, Ruth smiled and 
 thanked her. 
 
 The woman looked surprised. " I guess you ain't 
 a New Yorker," she observed. 
 
 " Why do you say that? " asked Ruth, surprised 
 in her turn. 
 
 " New Yorkers ain't got time to be polite," the 
 waitress flung back over her shoulder, as she hur- 
 ried off after another order. 
 
 Ruth looked around the restaurant, and came to 
 the conclusion that, at least, they seemed to have 
 no time to waste in eating. Everyone was rushing 
 through the meal at top speed. She wondered if 
 she would ever become imbued with the spirit of 
 haste, as these people were. 
 
 The room which Ruth had decided to look at first 
 was on Eightieth Street. Lory had told her that 
 to reach this section she should take an uptown 
 Madison Avenue car. But, when Ruth came to 
 follow these directions, she was confronted by a
 
 60 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 problem which had not occurred to her before, 
 she did not know in what direction uptown lay. 
 She debated the question in her mind for some 
 moments, but could not solve it, so she approached 
 a policeman and asked him. 
 
 " Will you please tell me how I can reach Eighti- 
 eth Street?" 
 
 " Take the up car," he answered shortly, with- 
 out looking at her. 
 
 " Which way is up? " 
 
 He glanced around at her angrily. A thirst for 
 knowledge may be admired by some people, but 
 they are not members of the New York police force. 
 A block in the traffic claimed his attention at that 
 moment, and he strode off without answering her. 
 
 She turned away, not daring to follow and risk 
 his displeasure by a repetition of her question. 
 Suddenly she felt very helpless, very much alone. 
 She seemed the veriest atom in all this mass of 
 humanity. She looked around at the hurrying 
 crowds, and wondered how she was to gain the nec- 
 essary information. She felt a touch on her arm. 
 
 " Ain't lost, are you? " said a man's voice. 
 
 She turned around, and recognized the speaker 
 as a man whom she had noticed lounging in the 
 doorway of a cigar store. She shrank back. 
 
 " Oh, you needn't be afraid of me ! " the man 
 went on, noticing her expression. " I ain't one of
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 61 
 
 these here mashers. I saw you ask the cop some- 
 thing, and he didn't seem overanxious to tell you. 
 Them cops is the limit. If you want to know how 
 to get anywheres, I can tell you." 
 
 Ruth took a second look at the man. Although 
 he was dressed in a flashy manner, there was some- 
 thing in his face that reassured her. 
 
 " I want to go to East Eightieth Street," she said 
 frankly. 
 
 " Why, any of these cars will take you there. 
 Here's one now." 
 
 He helped Ruth on the car, and, raising his hat, 
 sauntered back to the curb, probably entirely igno- 
 rant of how out of all proportion his kindness 
 had rallied a faltering courage. 
 
 Ruth entered the car with a lighter heart, and, 
 finding a vacant seat near the door, interested her- 
 self in studying the other passengers. She was 
 surprised that not one seemed to be an American. 
 It seemed as if all the other nationalities of earth 
 were represented even to China but America 
 seemed to lack representation. It was her first 
 glimpse of the cosmopolitan aspect of the New 
 York population. 
 
 She had no trouble in finding the street, as the 
 number was plainly displayed on the gas-lamp at 
 the corner. She alighted from the car, and turned 
 eastward. The house she was seeking was in the
 
 62 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 middle of the block. The first floor was occupied by 
 a tobacco store, and there were a number of dirty, 
 half-clad children playing about the door. She hesi- 
 tated a moment, and then ascended the steps and 
 rang the bell. Her ring was answered, after con- 
 siderable delay, by a woman clad untidily in a 
 soiled wrapper. She eyed Ruth suspiciously until 
 the girl made known her errand, and then, without 
 a word, motioned her to follow. Ruth was con- 
 ducted through a hall almost as dark as midnight, 
 and up a staircase which, although Ruth could not 
 see it on account of the gloom, she felt sure was 
 very dirty. 
 
 The woman stopped in front of a door and, 
 unlocking it, threw it open. The room was inde- 
 scribably cheerless, and the atmosphere was laden 
 with a disagreeable, musty smell. The furniture 
 consisted of a bed, two chairs with broken cane 
 bottoms, a bureau whose glass was cracked, and 
 a washstand on which were a pitcher and bowl, 
 both also cracked. At one end of the room was a 
 table, on which was a tiny oil-stove. 
 
 " I'm afraid this will not do," said Ruth timidly. 
 " It is not just what I want." 
 
 The woman nodded unconcernedly, and stood 
 aside for Ruth to pass out. Then she locked the 
 door, and disappeared down the hall, leaving Ruth 
 to find her way out as best she could. In all the
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 63 
 
 while she had been with her, the woman had not 
 spoken a word. Ruth wondered that she was not 
 more anxious to rent the room. She did not know 
 that, for even the dingiest room in that locality, 
 the demand far exceeds the supply, and the owner 
 can, therefore, afford to be independent. 
 
 Ruth was glad to reach the street. She turned 
 hopefully toward the next place on her list. This 
 was two blocks further up, and it took her only 
 a few minutes to walk the distance. Her experience 
 there was just as unsatisfactory, although the land- 
 lady was more voluble, and told Ruth the history 
 of all her roomers, and also explained how it was 
 that she, " a gentlewoman by birth and eddication," 
 should be reduced to taking in roomers. The room 
 itself was just as dirty, the furniture was just as 
 dingy, yet there was this difference: it was whole, 
 while it was the window that was cracked. 
 
 Ruth began to feel a little discouraged, and, as 
 the day wore on and she met with no better suc- 
 cess, she began to wonder if there was a decent 
 room in the city to be had for the price which she 
 could afford to pay. Toward evening, in a fit of 
 desperation, she decided that the next place on her 
 list should be her home for the time being, anyway. 
 And the gamble brought her a fair return, for the 
 room was cleaner than the rest she had looked at, 
 and the landlady was a kindly old German woman,
 
 64 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 who seemed to take a notion to the girl, and tried 
 to make her comfortable, even to the proffering of 
 a glass of beer, which beverage, she explained, was 
 excellent on a hot day. Ruth declined this hospi- 
 tality, although she thanked the woman heartily for 
 the offer. 
 
 When Ruth had succeeded, after some difficulty, 
 in having her trunk brought up from the station, 
 she started in housecleaning, and with the aid of a 
 few pictures and knick-knacks, which she had 
 brought from Harbury, managed to give the room 
 a very homelike appearance. 
 
 The landlady her name was Mrs. Vogel hov- 
 ered around watching Ruth's energy with apprecia- 
 tion, and helping every now and then in a vague, 
 haphazard manner. 
 
 " You work very hard for one who so little is," 
 she commended. 
 
 Ruth laughed. " I'm used to it," she replied. 
 
 ' You are from the country, yes? " 
 
 Ruth nodded. She placed a photograph of John 
 on the bureau, and moved it from side to side, to 
 ascertain where it would look the best. 
 
 " That is your sweetheart ? " 
 
 " My husband." 
 
 The woman came over and examined the photo- 
 graph critically. " He is a goot man. The face, 
 it is goot. I know. He is a goot man."
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 65 
 
 " Yes," Ruth answered. " He is a very good 
 man." 
 
 " Why do you come to New York alone ? " was 
 the woman's next question. 
 
 Ruth could not resent this catechising; it was so 
 evidently well meant. 
 
 " My husband is sick," she answered. " I have 
 come to the city to look for work." 
 
 The woman's face showed sympathy. " That is 
 too bad. It is hard looking for work. And you 
 are so little." 
 
 Before Ruth went to bed, she sat down and wrote 
 a letter to John's mother, and also one to Lory. 
 Both letters were cheerful. Ruth had decided that, 
 on the whole, her first day in New York had been 
 a success.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 BEFORE breakfast next morning, Ruth went out and 
 bought a paper. She spread it out on the table 
 before her and, with rapidly beating heart, opened 
 it. Somewhere in those prosaic pages might lie the 
 clew that would lead her on to success. She ran 
 her eye hastily through the " help wanted " col- 
 umns, and' her heart sank, for the word " ex- 
 perienced " prefaced nearly every advertisement. 
 Moreover, there were many which requested the 
 applicant to write, stating wages, and giving refer- 
 ences. Ruth did not know what wages to ask for, 
 nor could she, of course, give references. 
 
 At last, however, she discovered a few among 
 the many that did not ask anything except that the 
 applicant call. One of these, advertising a position 
 in a doctor's office, she decided to answer first. It 
 was early yet, and she prepared and ate her break- 
 fast leisurely. Then she set out to walk to the 
 physician's office. 
 
 Her way took her across Central Park she had 
 been given directions by the landlady and the sight 
 of its well-kept lawns, the songs of the birds, the 
 pleasant green of the foliage recalled Harbury to 
 
 66
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 67 
 
 her mind. She was seized with a sudden rush of 
 homesickness; for a moment it seemed as if she 
 must fly back to her home regardless of conse- 
 quences. She fought off this feeling, however, and 
 tried to think only of the beauty of the morning. 
 She interested herself in watching the people, and 
 wondering what they all did for a living. A squir- 
 rel ran down the trunk of a tree beside the path, 
 and sat up on its haunches inspecting her critically. 
 " Oh, you beauty ! " she cried, and tried to coax him 
 nearer. The squirrel waited a moment to see if 
 any peanuts were to be forthcoming, and then, de- 
 ciding to the contrary, disappeared with an indig- 
 nant flirt of his tail. Ruth laughed, and went on. 
 
 Coming out of the park, she crossed Eighth Ave- 
 nue, and continued up that thoroughfare for a few 
 blocks, then turned toward the west. At last she 
 came to the office. It was a brownstone house, 
 looking singularly unattractive on the outside, as 
 indeed most of the houses in New York did, Ruth 
 thought. 
 
 A woman in the uniform of a trained nurse 
 opened the door. 
 
 " I came in answer to your advertisement," said 
 Ruth. 
 
 The woman looked at her a moment doubtfully, 
 then said : 
 
 "If you will step into the reception-room, and
 
 68 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 wait for a few moments until I am at liberty, I 
 will tell what it is the doctor wishes." 
 
 The room into which Ruth was ushered made her 
 fairly hold her breath. She had thought the Brad- 
 bury mansion magnificent but this! She decided 
 the physician must be very rich, and would there- 
 fore pay high wages. Naturally every thought led 
 back to the subject which was engrossing her mind. 
 After a few moments the nurse came in. 
 
 " The doctor," she said impressively, " wishes a 
 young woman to open the door, and post the books. 
 I will show you about the books, in case you take 
 the position. In addition to this work, the office 
 has to be dusted every morning the doctor has a 
 colored man who does the sweeping and heavy work 
 and there are sometimes other things to be done 
 which are out of the ordinary run. The doctor 
 wishes a young woman who is willing and ener- 
 getic, and he is also very particular that she be 
 well, or at least, neatly dressed. I think," she went 
 on, with a friendly smile, " that you would suit him. 
 You live at home, I suppose ? " 
 
 " No," answered Ruth. " I am alone in the city." 
 
 The nurse hesitated. " The doctor prefers a 
 young woman who lives at home with her parents. 
 You see," she explained, " the doctor has to be 
 very particular. His practice is among the wealthi- 
 est and most refined people. If he should engage a
 
 69 
 
 young woman who was not " she hesitated for a 
 word "just right, it would create a bad impres- 
 sion. But I will speak to him, and maybe he will 
 make an exception in your case." 
 
 The nurse rose, and left the room. 
 
 While the woman had been speaking, Ruth 
 flushed painfully. Yet she recognized that the phy- 
 sician probably did have to be careful as to whom 
 he engaged, and she felt that, as this was the case, 
 the pay should she obtain the position would be 
 correspondingly high. 
 
 The nurse returned after a short while, accom- 
 panied by a man apparently of middle age. He 
 was dressed in a suit of some rough, mixed mate- 
 rial, and did not look at all like a physician, Ruth 
 thought. He frowned absent-mindedly, and after 
 one sharp glance at the girl nodded to the nurse, 
 and, turning on his heel, left the room. 
 
 The nurse came over to Ruth. " The doctor," 
 she announced grandly, " has decided to make an 
 exception in your favor. When can you begin 
 work?" 
 
 " Right away," answered Ruth, hardly able to 
 control the joy that was surging in her heart. 
 
 The nurse smiled her approval. " The doctor 
 will be pleased," she commented. " He likes to have 
 people about him who are anxious to work. So 
 many young women nowadays seem to think that it
 
 70 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 is horrible to have to work. But I can see that 
 you are not that kind. By the way, have you a 
 black dress ? " 
 
 Ruth thought a moment. " I have one, but it is 
 rather shabby." 
 
 " You will have to get one, then. The doctor 
 always insists that his office girl dress in black. 
 Of course, for the first few days, it will not matter, 
 but after that you'll attend to it, won't you ? " 
 
 Ruth promised, although the buying of a dress 
 would make quite a hole in her available capital. 
 She decided, however, that the expenditure would 
 be justified, now that she had obtained a good 
 position. 
 
 The nurse rose. " If you'll come with me, I will 
 show you what there is to be done." 
 
 At ten o'clock, the patients began to pour in, and 
 they came in droves, until all the chairs in the 
 reception-room were occupied, and some of the 
 later-comers had to stand. There was always a 
 brougham or a motor-car either arriving or passing 
 on. Ruth was awed by the magnificence of the 
 gowns which the women wore practically all of 
 the patients were women and wondered how these 
 people could afford to wear such dresses, just to 
 come to the doctor's, when in Harbury such gowns, 
 if they had been owned at all, would be carefully 
 treasured up for special occasions.
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 71 
 
 By noon Ruth was feeling rather tired, and very 
 hungry. She wondered at what time the nurse 
 would tell her to go out to luncheon, but as the 
 minutes went by, and the patients still kept coming 
 in, she began to doubt whether she would be al- 
 lowed to go out to lunch at all. 
 
 But at two o'clock the nurse appeared at the door 
 of the reception-room, and announced that the doc- 
 tor would see no more patients that day. Ruth 
 was astonished, for some of them had been wait- 
 ing for over an hour. She was surprised also that 
 they made no protest, but arose and went out with- 
 out a word. The nurse, who was standing by, no- 
 ticed her amazement, and laughed. 
 
 " Oh, they like that ! " she said. " It makes them 
 feel that the doctor is a very great man as indeed 
 he is to be able to be so independent. You see, 
 all these people are very rich, and they are so ac- 
 customed to having everyone bow down to them 
 that, when they do find a man like the doctor who 
 plays the master, they conceive a great respect for 
 him. You should hear how he talks to them. Just 
 so long as they do as he tells them to, he treats them 
 with the greatest kindness, but once let them dis- 
 obey, or try to tell him what they think about their 
 symptoms, and he puts them down in short order. 
 And they like him the better for it. They are all 
 the more sure to come again."
 
 72 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 Ruth nodded. " I can understand how they 
 would feel that way." 
 
 The nurse was moved to other disclosures, while 
 Ruth was straightening up the reception-room. " You 
 noticed that old woman who came in this morning 
 the one in the cerise gown? Well, there is noth- 
 ing whatever the matter with her, but she comes 
 here nearly every day. If the doctor wants to see 
 her, he does; if not, he tells her to go home. He 
 has prescribed bread pills for her with directions 
 that she is to take one three times a day after 
 drinking a glass of water. Once she took one, and 
 drank the water afterwards. She told him she did 
 not think it made any difference. You should have 
 seen the look on his face. ' Madam,' he said, ' leave 
 my office and do not come back until you are ready 
 to obey my orders.' She went away in a huff, but 
 she came back the next day, and begged him to 
 take up her case again. She must pay him at least 
 ten thousand dollars a year." 
 
 " But," protested Ruth, " if there is nothing the 
 matter with her " 
 
 The nurse shrugged her shoulders. " That is her 
 affair. Besides, even if the doctor did tell her, 
 she would refuse to believe him, and simply go 
 to some other physician. Anyhow, it pleases her 
 to come here; she feels that it is a mark of wealth 
 and social rank to be seen in this office, and in a
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 73 
 
 way it is, for the doctor always looks up the stand- 
 ing of a patient before he will accept the case." 
 
 From the nurse's conversation, Ruth could see 
 that, in her universe, " The Doctor " was a deity of 
 the first rank, but to Ruth there was something 
 ignoble in his course. She had always thought of 
 the medical profession as being above this kind of 
 charlatanry. Doctor Northall, she felt sure, would 
 have scorned such methods. Possibly although 
 Ruth did not think of it that was the reason why 
 he was merely a poor country doctor, instead of a 
 fashionable city physician. Ruth did not dream of 
 the full extent to which her present employer had 
 debased his profession into solely a .means of 
 money-getting. If she had, she probably would 
 have been very harsh in her judgment of him. Yet 
 this opinion would not have been entirely deserved. 
 There were extenuating circumstances. 
 
 Doctor J. Warrington Strong his name had 
 originally been written Joseph W. Strong had 
 started out in the practice of medicine with ideals. 
 One of these was that he intended to be honest with 
 his patients, not honest in the accepted meaning of 
 the word, but absolutely, strictly honest. So when, 
 shortly after he had hung out his shingle, a rich 
 patient summoned him, he diagnosed the case as 
 a slight cold, and, instead of calling two or three 
 times a day, he left a prescription for a simple rem-
 
 74 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 edy and did not call again. The patient very natu- 
 rally concluded that he was not sufficiently im- 
 pressed with her importance, and called in another 
 physician, who, wiser in the ways of the world and 
 with a deeper insight into human nature, clapped 
 her into bed and ordered two trained nurses in 
 attendance. Then, after frightening her nearly to 
 death, he cured her in a really miraculous manner 
 so she told her friends. She paid the five-hundred- 
 dollar fee of this worthy man with far more will- 
 ingness than she did the modest bill for two dollars 
 which Joseph Strong presented, and her estimate 
 of the comparative ability of the two men was, to 
 say the least, prejudiced. 
 
 In his pursuit of honesty, the young physician 
 found that it carried with it an inevitable accom- 
 paniment of poverty. This he could have stood, 
 for he had no particular love of wealth, but to 
 forego the good opinion and admiration of his 
 fellow-men, and particularly of his professional 
 brethren, was different. And he found that, unless 
 a physician were well off in the world's goods, he 
 was looked upon as a failure, a man of little abil- 
 ity. Even the patients for whom he did his best 
 would leave him to go to a man of more repu- 
 tation. 
 
 For awhile Joseph Strong struggled along in bit- 
 terness of spirit, and, when he did change his course,
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 75 
 
 he did so completely, for he was not the man to 
 do things by halves. He made a solemn resolution 
 that he would leave no stone unturned to reach the 
 heights of medical pre-eminence in New York. He 
 accomplished his aim; the city held on its medical 
 rolls no name that was more honored, envied, and 
 applauded than that of J. Warrington Strong. 
 
 After Ruth had returned from luncheon, which 
 she obtained in a little restaurant on Ninth Avenue, 
 she was set to work posting the books. This proved 
 to be a much more complicated process than the 
 nurse had led her to believe. Under each patient's 
 name was a list of questions, the answers of which 
 had to be filled in. The doctor dictated these an- 
 swers, and he was very impatient when Ruth could 
 not spell the complicated words he used. She no- 
 ticed that in many cases he gave the same Latin 
 name in answer to the question as to what disease 
 the patient had. Ruth later asked the nurse what 
 was the disease that seemed to be so common. 
 
 " Oh, that is just a little joke of the doctor's," 
 the nurse replied, smiling. " It is the Latin word 
 for nothing. You see, most of them think they 
 are sick, when in reality there is nothing whatever 
 the matter with them." 
 
 After the books were posted, Ruth was asked to 
 sweep the office, as the colored man, whose duty 
 it was to perform this task, did not appear. Al-
 
 76 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 though she was very tired, Ruth consented will- 
 ingly, and it was after seven o'clock when she hur- 
 ried home, worn out in body, but very happy. She 
 had gained a position on her second day in New 
 York. She could hardly believe her good luck. 
 
 She was so exultant that she felt as if she must 
 tell some one of her good fortune, so she hunted 
 up the landlady, and poured forth the tale of her 
 triumph, what a splendid position she had found, 
 how rich the doctor was, what a large practice he 
 had, how beautiful his office was, and how kind 
 the nurse had been to her. 
 
 Mrs. Vogel listened with a broad smile of pleas- 
 ure on her kindly face. 
 
 " That is goot," she said, when Ruth had finished. 
 " How much do you get? " 
 
 " I don't know," answered Ruth, " but I know it 
 will be a good deal, because he is very particular. 
 The nurse asked me any number of questions before 
 I could get the position." 
 
 The woman's face became sober. "You make 
 him tell you what he gives you already," she advised. 
 
 Ruth laughed at her suspicions, and sat down to 
 write the good news to Harbury. 
 
 Once more she went to bed happy; her second 
 day in New York had been a huge success.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 IT was eight o'clock the next morning when Ruth 
 reached the office. She did not see either the doc- 
 tor or the nurse, but there was an old colored man 
 pottering about, who showed her what she was ex- 
 pected to do. Ruth plunged eagerly into her work, 
 and, although she found that her duties consisted 
 in doing much more than the dusting of which the 
 nurse had spoken, she did not mind. She already 
 took an interest in her position, and she endeavored 
 to make the office look spotlessly clean and neat. She 
 felt that she was a part of the establishment, and 
 looked forward with interest to the time when the 
 patients would begin to arrive. Although the fact 
 of the doctor's dishonesty she could call it by no 
 less a term weighed upon her mind, she had de- 
 cided that it was not for her to judge, knowing 
 nothing of the demands of a city practice, and, 
 anyway, if these people thought they were sick, and 
 derived comfort from the doctor's ministration, he 
 was at least doing something for their well-being. 
 
 At nine o'clock the nurse came in, and smiled her 
 approval on finding how Ruth had progressed with 
 the work. 
 
 77
 
 78 
 
 " The doctor will be pleased," she said. " He 
 likes to see one take an interest in one's work." 
 
 Ruth remembered that she had intended asking 
 about the wages, but she hesitated. It seemed in a 
 way ungrateful, especially when the doctor had 
 made an exception in her case; it seemed to denote 
 a lack of appreciation. Still, she decided, she had 
 better ask. 
 
 " How much does the doctor pay for the work 
 I am doing ? " 
 
 The nurse was arranging her hair. " Five dol- 
 lars a week," she answered without turning around. 
 
 Ruth sat down abruptly in a chair. 
 
 " Five dollars ! " she exclaimed. 
 
 The nurse looked around. " Why, yes," she said 
 in surprise. " I thought you knew that is the 
 usual pay for work such as you are doing." 
 
 " But," stammered Ruth, " that is hardly any- 
 thing; I couldn't live on that." 
 
 The nurse shrugged her shoulders. " That is 
 hardly the doctor's affair," she returned calmly. 
 " He can get any number of girls who are willing 
 to work for that amount, and glad of the chance." 
 
 Ruth's anger rose. " It is an outrage," she said, 
 holding herself in check, and speaking quietly, al- 
 though her voice vibrated with indignation. " He 
 knows that I am living alone in the city I told 
 you that. He knows that it is impossible for any-
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 79 
 
 one to live on five dollars a week. I should think 
 he would be ashamed to offer anybody such a mis- 
 erable amount, but when he knows that I have to 
 be self-supporting " 
 
 The nurse's face froze. " I think you had better 
 go, Miss Lawson," she said icily. " I am sorry 
 there has been a misunderstanding, but, if you did 
 not know enough to ask the amount of your wages, 
 you can hardly blame the doctor for the mistake, 
 nor can you expect him to investigate the means of 
 every applicant for a position. For all he knew, 
 you might have an income from some other source." 
 
 Ruth's anger died down. " I suppose it was my 
 fault," she admitted. " Yet I never dreamed that 
 a physician with a practice such as his, and with 
 such an office, would pay so little." 
 
 The nurse's face softened. " You are evidently 
 strange to the city, or you would not be surprised," 
 she remarked. 
 
 Ruth put on her hat. Then she thought of some- 
 thing. She turned to the nurse, but at that moment 
 the doctor entered the room. 
 
 " I am leaving," she said, in answer to his ques- 
 tioning glance, " I did not understand about the 
 amount of wages I was to receive. I am sorry if 
 I have put you to any trouble." 
 
 " What is the matter with the wages? " he asked 
 brusquely.
 
 8o THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 " It is not enough for me to live on," Ruth an- 
 swered simply. " I am alone in the city, and I 
 must support myself." 
 
 He grunted, and turned to his desk. 
 
 Ruth waited a moment, then said timidly : " If 
 you will pay me for the work I did yesterday, I 
 will go. I must hurry and look up something 
 else." 
 
 He frowned. " It is customary to pay by the week, 
 not by the day," he answered shortly. 
 
 " But I have been here only the one day," said 
 Ruth, not understanding him. 
 
 "Oh, well! I don't have to pay you anything, 
 as a matter of fact. You engaged to work by 
 the week, and you have broken your contract, but 
 I'll pay you. Here, nurse, figure out how much 
 I owe this young woman. She wasn't here a whole 
 day yesterday, didn't get here till after nine." The 
 nurse blushed at the exposed penuriousness of her 
 idol, but took up a pad and began to figure. 
 
 Ruth's eyes flashed. " Pardon me," she said de- 
 cidedly, " I have been here an hour this morning. 
 I think that makes up the full day." 
 
 The doctor looked up, frowning. " You will 
 take just what I choose to give you, or nothing 
 at all," he said coolly. 
 
 Ruth saw that she was beaten. She took the 
 money, and walked out, carrying herself proudly
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 81 
 
 erect. So this was the man who was so particular 
 whom he engaged to work for him, whom it was 
 so hard to please, who " liked to see one take an 
 interest in one's work " this man who was paid 
 ten thousand dollars a year by one patient, and paid 
 those who labored for him so poorly. What a fool 
 she had been to be taken in by the nurse's twaddle 
 about the " great man." Ruth wondered if there 
 could be others like him. The old German woman 
 had been suspicious that he might be like that. 
 Ruth was, therefore, forced to the conclusion that 
 there were. 
 
 When she reached the sidewalk, the full force 
 of the unfortunate outcome was borne in upon her. 
 The problem which she had thought solved, now 
 confronted her in a more complicated form; before, 
 the solution had meant simply the gaining of a po- 
 sition; now, she saw that some positions paid so 
 poorly that they were useless. She tried not to be 
 discouraged. She told herself that one failure did 
 not mean continued failure; that, if she were to be 
 discouraged so easily, she could never hope to suc- 
 ceed. Yet it was a severe blow, and her air castles 
 were tottering on their foundations. She thought 
 of the enthusiastic letter she had written home, and 
 would have given anything to be able to recall it. 
 
 She hurried home, and looked through the paper 
 to discover the point of her next attack. She de-
 
 82 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 cided to try for a store position ; there were a num- 
 ber of saleswomen wanted at Ehrenstein & Co.'s. 
 
 She could not bear to tell the landlady of her 
 failure, so she did not ask her how to get to Ehren- 
 stein's. She had some trouble in finding it, but at 
 last, by asking many times, she was directed to the 
 store on Sixth Avenue. 
 
 The elevator which carried her up to the mana- 
 ger's office bore five other girls who, from their 
 conversation, meant to apply for a position. This 
 fact disconcerted Ruth. She had thought of her- 
 self as being the only applicant; or, rather, had not 
 thought of it at all, for the novice in position 
 seeking rarely takes into consideration the compe- 
 tition to be met. But, if Ruth was disconcerted be- 
 cause of the five girls, she was completely dismayed 
 when she reached the manager's office. Outside the 
 door were from seventy-five to a hundred girls wait- 
 ing to be interviewed. 
 
 Many of these were well dressed, and carried 
 themselves with jaunty indifference, but some were 
 miserably clad, and their white, pinched faces struck 
 terror to Ruth's heart. She stood there not know- 
 ing what to do, nor seeing the slightest use in doing 
 it if she had known. 
 
 A girl standing next to her dressed in a suit 
 which had once been black, but which time had ren- 
 dered a dingy green, touched her on the arm.
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 83 
 
 " Don't look like there's much show," she re- 
 marked in a hopeless tone. 
 
 Ruth shook her head. 
 
 " An' they pay high here, too. I know a girl in 
 here that gets ten dollars a week." 
 
 " Don't they all get as much as that ? " asked 
 Ruth. 
 
 The girl turned a wondering glance on her. 
 " Are you trying to josh me? " she demanded sus- 
 piciously. 
 
 " Oh, no ! " answered Ruth hastily. " I am a 
 stranger in the city. I do not know how much the 
 stores pay." 
 
 "Oh!" said the girl. "Well, some girls gets 
 ten, but the most get anywheres from eight to three 
 and a half a week." 
 
 " Three and a half ! Why, you must be mistaken. 
 Nobody could live on that, or even on five." 
 
 " Some of them lives at home, and their folks 
 help them out." 
 
 " But the others " 
 
 The girl laughed harshly. " Gee, you are green ! 
 But so was I once. I was so green that, when I 
 got my pay envelope with four dollars in it, I went 
 up to the floor-walker and asked how he s'posed a 
 girl was goin' to live on that. He told me a pretty 
 girl wasn't supposed to live on her wages." 
 
 It was a moment before the girl's meaning fil-
 
 84 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 tered into Ruth's mind. Then a hot flush spread 
 over her face. 
 
 " No, no ! " she protested. " He didn't say that. 
 He couldn't say a thing like that ! " 
 
 The girl laughed cynically. " Why, that ain't 
 anything. Everybody knows that no girl can live 
 in New York on the wages the stores pay; it ain't 
 possible, and the men that run the stores counts 
 on either a girl's family making up the difference 
 or else she's supposed to get it out of some man. 
 But wait till you hear the rest of what I was tell- 
 ing you about. 
 
 " I went up to see the man that run the store, I 
 was so mad. I sort of doped it out that he was 
 on the square I'd read in the papers about his be- 
 ing a Sunday-school superintendent and I was 
 green enough to think that maybe he didn't know 
 how much girls in his store was paid, and that they 
 couldn't live on no such sum. Then I was going 
 to have that floor-walker fired for insultin' me. 
 Oh, I was the real greeny, all right! Of course 
 they wouldn't let me in his office, but I hung around 
 till he came out, and then I went up and blabbed 
 the whole thing. What do you think he said ? " 
 
 " I don't know," answered Ruth helplessly. 
 
 " He asked me if I would get out quietly, or 
 would he call the store detective to put me out. I 
 got out all right, but I had the satisfaction of tell-
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 85 
 
 ing him what I thought of him. Still I don't sup- 
 pose it was his fault. He couldn't pay any higher 
 than all the rest. If he did, the other stores would 
 sell things cheaper than he could, and he'd have to 
 go out of business." 
 
 Ruth did not answer. The very air seemed to 
 stifle her. All her most sacred feelings about 
 womanhood were outraged by the girl's disclosure. 
 Was it possible that employers would pay less than 
 the cost of the poorest living, and expect that the 
 girls would make up the deficit by offering up their 
 bodies? Was it possible that they thus used pros- 
 titution as a business asset, deliberately figuring 
 that, because of it, their employees would not be 
 taken from them by starvation, thus forcing them 
 to raise wages in order to keep their full complement 
 of help? And if, as the girl had said, the indi- 
 vidual employer was powerless to right the mat- 
 ter, where did the responsibility lie? She wondered 
 if the people, the good people, of the country knew 
 of these conditions, and yet were unwilling to take 
 steps to change them. She did not know whether 
 they could be changed, but, if not, what a blot on 
 the boasted civilization of a mighty nation! What 
 a mockery the pre-eminence of its commercial sys- 
 tem ! The girl had said that many of the employees 
 lived at home, but, even so, was it fair that the 
 stores should take them from their families, and
 
 86 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 demand their labor for six days out of every week, 
 and then expect their families to pay part of their 
 wages ? And, anyway, there must be many families 
 who were unable to do this; there must be many 
 who were not only unable, but even needed part of 
 a girl's salary to keep the home going. 
 
 Ruth was glad when a man announced that the 
 vacancies had been filled, so that she could escape 
 into the outer air. As she went out into the street, 
 the roar of the city greeted her ears, but in it now 
 was no note of soothing. It sounded to her like 
 the blood-lust cry of a wild beast.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 RUTH fought a fierce battle all that day and all 
 night against complete discouragement, and came 
 out of it with one determination: no matter how 
 she felt, no matter how hopeless the case might 
 seem, she would answer every advertisement that 
 promised the slightest chance. She would bring all 
 the force of her will to bear to make her body do 
 its duty, and no sickness of heart would prevent. 
 She felt sure that there must be some well-paid 
 positions, and one of these she must get. And to 
 this resolution she held for a month. 
 
 Day after day she tramped the streets from morn- 
 ing till night, receiving rebuff after rebuff. At 
 first she did not take Lory's advice to lie about her 
 lack of experience but her honesty brought her 
 no success, nor did her falsehood, when she at last 
 came to it, for she had not the hardihood to make 
 good the lie, and a few questions left her a con- 
 fessed culprit. At times she acted on the advice of 
 a well-known millionaire, and offered to work for 
 nothing until she could prove herself of use. This 
 offer was met, for the most part, with amusement. 
 One employer, however, told her roughly that he 
 
 87
 
 88 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 wasn't running any damned kindergarten. She had 
 besieged the intelligence offices in search of a do- 
 mestic position, but her lack of references, coupled 
 with a certain unservant-like bearing, made employ- 
 ers look at her askance. It is a common belief that 
 domestic positions are easy to obtain. People won- 
 der why the woman failure in other lines ever need 
 go hungry with such an opportunity ever open to her. 
 The recently arrived referenceless Irish girl, the 
 Pole, the Swede, the buxom German indeed, there 
 are positions for them, but for the American girl, 
 if she appears above the servant type, especially 
 if she is pretty, and can furnish no references either 
 written or personal, there is not one. 
 
 There were days when the anticipation of failure 
 would make Ruth turn away from the door of the 
 business house which she had intended to enter, and 
 only by calling up every ounce of her will-power 
 could she force herself to undergo the torture of 
 another refusal. 
 
 A furtive, hang-dog look grew in her face, and 
 she shrank from her fellow-beings. At times she 
 hated them, hated the laughing, happy people she 
 passed in the street, and most of all the rich who 
 rode in their carriages and automobiles, not with 
 any well-defined hatred, but with the dull, unrea- 
 soning brute instinct which a hungry dog must feel 
 in seeing another with a bone.
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 89 
 
 She grew intensely sensitive. She fancied that 
 she was the object of every laugh she heard. A 
 man or a woman's jostling against her in the street 
 would bring the tears to her eyes. Discouragement 
 filled her heart, to the exclusion of all other emo- 
 tions. At first there had been times when hope 
 fought its way valiantly up in her mind, but as the 
 days went by, and it had nothing to feed on, it 
 withered and died. She felt that she was a failure, 
 one of those who had fought a feeble fight and lost. 
 Her days were periods of unceasing misery, and 
 at night her pillow was wet with tears until she 
 fell into an exhausted sleep. 
 
 And yet the one thing that weighed her down 
 more than anything else was the thought that she 
 was not alone in her suffering. From her contact 
 with working-women, mostly of the store-girl class, 
 she learned of a state of affairs which not only bore 
 out what she had been told by the girl in Ehren- 
 stein's store, but opened a much more vast pit of 
 infamy and greed. At first she could not believe 
 it, but she was forced to by the weight of evidence's 
 proving it true. Nor was it in the stores alone, with 
 their miserable wages, their systems of fines mak- 
 ing these even smaller, their overtime work with 
 little if any overtime pay, their asking an applicant, 
 poor, hungry, ill-clad, desperate, in no position to 
 bargain, what was the least for which she would
 
 90 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 be willing to work, and paying her that it was not 
 only in these stores where commercial greed was 
 rampant, but in every other line in which a woman 
 could " earn a living." Earn a living! Yes, it was 
 a living if escape from actual death by starvation 
 is termed a living. 
 
 In the factories and sweatshops, with their in- 
 geniously arranged piece work, where, as the work- 
 ers become more expert, the pay per piece was 
 gradually reduced; in the offices and wholesale 
 houses, restaurants, hotels everywhere was the 
 same desire to get work done for the least pos- 
 sible sum, with absolutely no regard for the wel- 
 fare of the worker. Yes, it was infamy hideous, 
 degrading infamy and its results were equally 
 hideous and degrading. 
 
 For all this injustice, all this meagerness of wage 
 pointed the way inexorably to one thing. There 
 were many girls who escaped the common fate, 
 whose characters were strong enough to resist the 
 almost irresistible force of poverty and temptation. 
 There were girls whose lives in the midst of this 
 muck put to shame the lives of the so-called saints, 
 but an appalling number took the beaten path. It 
 was the common thing for a working girl to be the 
 recipient of money from some man, money which 
 would give her a taste of the joys of life from 
 which she was otherwise hopelessly debarred, which
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 91 
 
 would bestow upon her those little fineries so dear 
 to the feminine heart, fineries as much ordained by 
 nature as is the brilliant plumage of the male bird 
 during mating season. Every force of nature, 
 every known variety of temptation lured her on to 
 her almost inevitable lot. 
 
 Ruth had known in a vague way of the social 
 problem, but this phase of it, by far the most ter- 
 rible in its significance, the most appalling in its 
 tendency to debase the race, was disclosed to her 
 for the first time. 
 
 At last the strain proved too great for her mind 
 and body. There came a day when she had not the 
 strength or courage to make another effort, when 
 she sat in her stifling room in a dazed stupor, from 
 which even the kindly ministrations of the old Ger- 
 man woman could not rouse her. She prayed for 
 death, as she had prayed for it daily and nightly 
 for the past two weeks. She had come to New 
 York to embark on the sea of life, seeing only the 
 glistening ripples on its surface. Now she knew 
 of the rank ooze that lurked far beneath, in which 
 lay the shattered wrecks of lives which should have 
 been good and pure and useful, a credit to the 
 country which ranks foremost in the civilized world. 
 But instead they lay hopelessly sunk in the moral 
 slime of the Empire City.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 THE sun beat down mercilessly on the sweltering 
 city. Not a cloud relieved the torrid blueness of 
 the blazing sky; not a breath of wind brought a 
 second's assuagement to the suffering inhabitants. 
 Over on the East Side, Death stalked grimly, reap- 
 ing his harvest of babies* and of the old and feeble. 
 The ambulance gong sounded everywhere. The 
 hospitals were full to overflowing. Through every 
 door of egress from the city, the inhabitants were 
 fleeing. The ferries were overladen with their bur- 
 den of gasping humanity, seeking the comparative 
 cool of Long Island, or, to the westward, New Jer- 
 sey, where the crowds divided, some seeking the 
 hills as a refuge, others the beach resorts. The 
 boats sailing from the Battery to Coney Island were 
 jammed with a haggard mob of men and women 
 and children, who were almost on the verge of ut- 
 ter prostration. This was the third day of the awful 
 heat, and it seemed as if flesh and blood could stand 
 no more. Eager eyes scanned the western horizon 
 for a cloud which, the papers had promised, would 
 bring relief, and eager ears strained for the first 
 low muttering of thunder. 
 
 92
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 93 
 
 In Ruth's room the temperature was over a hun- 
 dred, but she did not feel the heat; her misery of 
 mind was so great that the discomfort of her body 
 was unnoticed. She stared at the fantastic designs 
 of the wall paper until, at times, these resolved 
 themselves into hideous fiends, who leered at 
 her with devilish enjoyment of her suffering. 
 Sometimes a grim amusement would sweep over 
 her. She almost laughed to think of the air castles 
 she had built before coming to this city. How 
 ludicrous it must have seemed to Lory to hear her 
 talk of having a good education and being willing 
 to learn. Then, in a burst of anger, she would rage 
 against Fate for having brought her to this. Why 
 could she not have been left alone, she and John, 
 when they were so happy? Was it really God who 
 had brought about all this misery? She could not 
 believe it; and yet why had He allowed it why did 
 He allow any of the horrible things that were al- 
 ways taking place? Could it be that He could find 
 any enjoyment in this world which He had created, 
 and had allowed to be so overfilled with suffering? 
 No; it was impossible to conceive such a thing; she 
 would not believe it. 
 
 And then for a time her mind wandered. She 
 was talking to John back in Harbury. It was fall; 
 she could feel the keen, brisk air fanning her cheek ; 
 she could see the glorious coloring of the foliage.
 
 94 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 And there was a little boy toddling along beside 
 them, her baby. She held the tiny hand in hers, and 
 listened to the childish prattle. She laughed hap- 
 pily, and the laugh aroused her. She cast a fright- 
 ened glance around at the bare little room, and knew 
 that her happiness had been but a mirage to torture 
 her still more. After a wild burst of despairing 
 tears, she sank into hopeless apathy. 
 
 Then she seemed to hear footsteps in the hall 
 without, and dimly her ears took note of a knock 
 at the door. Then it appeared as if the door was 
 thrown open. She seemed to see Lory, Lory 
 clothed from head to foot in white, and carrying 
 a scarlet parasol. With her was a man. Was it 
 John? No, for John was tall and dark, and this 
 man was shorter, with blue eyes and light hair. 
 She wondered who he was, and, in the very act of 
 wondering, knew that it was all a hallucination. 
 She passed a hand uncertainly across her eyes. 
 
 Lory's voice startled her: 
 
 " You poor kid ! What have you been doing to 
 yourself? " 
 
 Ruth brushed her hand across her eyes again, 
 but still the figure was there, and now it advanced 
 and dropped down beside her, and she felt an arm 
 thrown closely about her. Startled conviction 
 leaped into her mind. 
 
 " Lory ! " she cried weakly. " Oh, Lory, I'm so
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 95 
 
 tired ! I've tried to find work, and " Her voice 
 
 trailed off into silence. 
 
 Lory turned to the man. "Jack, the kid's sick; 
 she's fainted. You'd better get a doctor." 
 
 The man hastened away on his errand, and Lory 
 carried the wasted form to the bed. She bathed the 
 girl's face with cool water, and chafed her hot 
 hands, but she could not bring her back to con- 
 sciousness. 
 
 The doctor, when he came, shook his head 
 gravely. 
 
 " She has a high fever," he said. " Has she 
 had anything to worry her ? " 
 
 " Oh, no ! " answered Lory grimly. " She only 
 butted into New York to find work when she did 
 not know how to do a blamed thing. Regular pic- 
 nic, that ! " 
 
 The physician turned his eyes sadly on the fragile 
 form on the bed. " It beats me why they do it," 
 he remarked half to himself. " I see so many cases 
 like this. There are thousands of them coming to 
 New York every day. God ! if some one would only 
 warn them tell them to keep away from New York 
 as if it were a plague city " 
 
 " And so it is," commented Lory bitterly. " It's 
 rotten ! But what about the kid ? " 
 
 The doctor threw out his hands in a despairing 
 gesture. " Total collapse brain fever anything.
 
 96 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 How can I tell? Her body has been starved, and 
 her brain overfed with distressing thoughts and 
 then with this heat well, we'll have to get her 
 out of this, anyway. I'll call an ambulance. She'll 
 have to be taken to a hospital." 
 
 " Wait," said Lory sharply. " Jack," turning to 
 her companion, " I think I'm going to be the Good 
 Samaritan. I think I'm going to take this kid 
 home with me. What do you say ? " 
 
 Jack Marshall stopped in his restless pacing of 
 the room. 
 
 " I don't know. It'd mean a lot of bother for 
 you. She may be sick for a long time." 
 
 " Come over here, Jack." 
 
 She led him to the bed. " Now look at her ! " 
 
 Ruth's face, flushed with fever on the pillow, 
 looked singularly child-like and pathetic. The man 
 nodded : 
 
 " I guess you're right, but what are you going 
 to do with her when she gets well ? " 
 
 Lory shrugged her shoulders. " Time enough 
 to think about that when she is well. Your car is 
 waiting, isn't it? " 
 
 " Yes, I told the chauffeur to be back in ten min- 
 utes. He must be here now." 
 
 " Then we'll take her right home." 
 
 The physician looked from one to the other with 
 a gratified smile on his face. " I wish I saw more
 
 97 
 
 of this kind of thing, or maybe," turning to Lory, 
 " you are an angel is disguise." 
 
 " Angels don't carry red parasols," she retorted, 
 laughing. 
 
 " I said ' in disguise.' ' 
 
 " Well, I guess it's a blamed good disguise, if 
 I am, taking everything into consideration, but we 
 want to get a move on now and get the kid home. 
 You'll come along, doc?" 
 
 The physician took the unconscious girl in his 
 arms, and carried her out to the waiting car. He 
 deposited her on the rear seat, and Lory got in be- 
 side her. He remained standing on the step, lean- 
 ing over into the car, with a finger on the patient's 
 pulse. 
 
 " Drive fast," he said to Jack in a low tone. 
 
 Lory looked up with a frightened expression on 
 her face. " Does that mean ? " 
 
 He nodded without taking his eyes off the pa- 
 tient's face. 
 
 Jack took the Eighty-sixth Street cut through the 
 park, where there was little traffic to hinder the 
 speed of the car. The machine careered wildly 
 along the narrow way, and dashed around into 
 Eighth Avenue, missing a trolley car by a frac- 
 tion of an inch, and continued its flight northward, 
 with a policeman, mounted on a motorcycle, in full 
 pursuit. At Ninety-third Street the driver was
 
 98 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 compelled to slow up to avoid collision with a truck, 
 and the policeman ranged alongside. The doctor 
 shouted at him that it was a case of life or death, 
 and he dropped back. The machine flew on, honk- 
 ing out its warning to pedestrians and traffic. At 
 One Hundred and Tenth Street the car turned the 
 corner on two wheels, and rounded into Manhat- 
 tan Avenue, drawing up suddenly before an apart- 
 ment house. 
 
 Lory sprang out and led the way up to her apart- 
 ments, the doctor following with his unconscious 
 burden. He laid her on the bed, and breathed a 
 sigh of relief. " I thought she was gone once," he 
 said. 
 
 While he was speaking he opened his case and 
 took out a hypodermic. He administered the dose, 
 and watched the result with a satisfied smile. 
 
 " She responds nicely. I think we'll pull her 
 through all right." 
 
 Lory stood looking over his shoulder. " I wish 
 I'd found her sooner," she said. " I meant to go 
 around to see her a week ago, but well, you know 
 how easy it is to put things off." 
 
 " Then you haven't seen her before lately, I 
 mean ? " 
 
 " I only saw her once before. I met her on the 
 train coming from Boston. She was just blowing 
 in from the country, and I was afraid she would
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 99 
 
 find New York a pretty stiff proposition. That's 
 the reason I looked her up to-day. It was lucky 
 I did." 
 
 " Then she's practically a stranger to you ? " . 
 
 Lory nodded. 
 
 " And yet you I believe you are an angel, after 
 all." 
 
 " Sure she is," put in Jack. " She's always doing 
 things like this, only she doesn't like to be found 
 out. If you hadn't been on the spot, you wouldn't 
 know about this." 
 
 The doctor rose to go. " You've restored my 
 faith in human nature," he said lightly, yet there 
 was an undertone of seriousness in the words. 
 
 For days Ruth tossed in delirium, and it was only 
 due to Lory's careful nursing that she lived at all. 
 For three days and nights Lory did not leave the 
 bedside, until Jack put his foot down and called in 
 a trained nurse. Lory consented to this simply be- 
 cause she was afraid that her tired body would drop 
 off to sleep and she would neglect the patient. 
 
 But the fever finally broke, and then came days 
 when Ruth lay in a listless apathy. She hardly ever 
 spoke, and she did not express gratitude to Lory, 
 but her eyes followed the other woman with a look 
 of adoration. At last the patient's strength began 
 to come back, and one day she broached the sub- 
 ject that lay heavy on her mind.
 
 " Lory," she said weakly, " I can never thank 
 you enough for all you have done for me, but I 
 am getting strong now. I must go away. I must 
 look for work again." 
 
 Lory advanced toward the bed menacingly. 
 " Look here, kid, if you want to make me mad, just 
 keep on with that line of talk. You're my guest 
 my guest, do you understand that? And, what's 
 more, you're going to play the part all summer. 
 You couldn't get a job now to save your soul. In 
 the fall, we'll get you on the stage or something. 
 Anyhow, we can talk about it then, but for the 
 present you're going to stay with me here." 
 
 " But," protested Ruth, " I haven't any money. 
 j " 
 
 " What do I care whether you have any money 
 or not ? " demanded Lory fiercely. " I've got 
 bunches of it made it playing the races. Jack 
 got a lot of good tips last week. We'll use that 
 up, and then we'll go out and beat the world on the 
 head until it hollers and coughs up some more." 
 
 Ruth laughed, a little feeble laugh, but still 
 one. 
 
 " You're better, kid ! " cried the delighted Lory. 
 " Here I've tried my best to be funny for the last 
 two weeks, and you wouldn't even crack a smile. 
 I was beginning to think you had lost your sense of 
 humor."
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 101 
 
 But Ruth returned to the matter under discus- 
 sion, much to Lory's disgust. 
 
 " I can't live on you, Lory. You " 
 
 "I want to ask you one question/' interrupted 
 the other. " If I was down and out, wouldn't you 
 stake me for one measly summer, if you had 
 money ? " 
 
 Yes, but " 
 
 "Then forget it, and talk about the weather." 
 
 And to all Ruth's further protests she turned a 
 deaf ear. Lory was used to having her own way, 
 and she did not intend to depart from her custom 
 in this instance. So the relations between the two 
 girls were drawn. When Ruth was better, Lory 
 insisted on providing her with a wardrobe. " You 
 can't make good in New York unless you have the 
 rags," she told Ruth. 
 
 But here for once Ruth was firm that is, until 
 Lory forced a few tears, when Ruth, in consterna- 
 tion at having wounded her friend, gave in. 
 
 And thus it came about that Ruth Lawson re- 
 mained on as the guest of Lory Williams.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 Six weeks had passed since that sweltering June 
 day on which Lory had brought Ruth to her apart- 
 ment, and in these six weeks much had happened. 
 Under the influence of Lory's cheerful optimism, 
 Ruth's spirits had risen greatly. While there still 
 lurked an expression of sadness in her eyes, her 
 laugh was more frequent, and she looked out into 
 the future with less foreboding. 
 
 The principal reason for this changed condition 
 of mind was the fact that in the fall she would go 
 on the stage, and then she would be able to send 
 money home to John and his mother. Lory had 
 made Ruth's success seem so assured that the girl 
 had come to look upon it as almost an accom- 
 plished fact. Ruth knew that she could sing well, 
 and she also knew without vanity that she was 
 pretty. Lory had taught her enough of stage danc- 
 ing for her to be confident that she could dance 
 gracefully. Lory was positive in her declaration 
 that Ruth would make a "hit," and Ruth tried 
 to accept her judgment as final, and did her best to 
 dismiss the depressing thoughts that were always 
 springing up in her mind. 
 
 102
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 103 
 
 In these days she did not miss John. Since her 
 sickness, he and all of her past life in Harbury 
 seemed a dream, and the letters from his mother, 
 documents from another world. Not that her love 
 for him was dead; had he appeared before her 
 again in possession of his mind, her passion would 
 have revived at a bound, but she had given up all 
 hopes of his recovery, and, if her thoughts did 
 dwell on him, she strove to think of something else, 
 realizing the futility of vain longing. 
 
 Ruth was now busily engaged in preparing din- 
 ner. At first Lory had insisted that Ruth should 
 do none of the work incidental to running the small 
 household, but when she had found that it was a 
 real pleasure to Ruth she consented. And Ruth was 
 happy in doing whatever she could for Lory's com- 
 fort; in a way it allowed her to express the grati- 
 tude which Lory would not let her voice, but which 
 she constantly felt. 
 
 As she flitted to and fro about the tiny kitchen, 
 her mind was filled with thoughts of her friend. 
 Ruth loved Lory, and her love made her anxious. 
 She could not approve of all Lory's ways, and it 
 worried her. Not that she blamed her friend, for 
 she recognized Lory's habits as the result of envi- 
 ronment, but she could never see her smoking ciga- 
 rettes or drinking highballs, or hear her tell of 
 midnight suppers, poker parties, and playing the
 
 104 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 races, and not feel sorry that Lory, who was so 
 good, should do these things. 
 
 There was another thing about which Ruth was 
 troubled; Jack came to see Lory almost daily, and 
 Ruth supposed that they were engaged, but Lory 
 never spoke of their marriage. Ruth feared that 
 a case of which she had known in Harbury might 
 be duplicated in her friend's experience. There had 
 been a young woman of Ruth's acquaintance who 
 had " kept company " with a man for ten years, at 
 the end of which time he had married a younger 
 woman. Ruth liked Jack Marshall; he was light- 
 hearted and boyishly frank, and he had always been 
 very kind to her. But there was a lack of serious- 
 ness about him which made her fear for her friend's 
 happiness. Ruth had determined to do all she could 
 to hasten the marriage, and with this end in view 
 had asked Lory when she and Jack were to be 
 married. Lory had stared at her for a moment, 
 and then burst out laughing. " You dear little 
 Puritan," she had cried. Ruth had turned this 
 answer over in her mind for many days, but could 
 make nothing of it. Nor did she dare to venture 
 the question again. 
 
 In the time she had been living with Lory, she 
 had met many of Lory's friends and they puzzled 
 her. They talked with direct openness on subjects 
 about which in Harbury it was considered almost
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 105 
 
 a crime even to think. There were times when Ruth 
 pleaded a headache and escaped to her room, until 
 it became Lory's custom to say : " Ruth, dear, Vio- 
 lette or some other girl is coming this afternoon. 
 I guess you had better have a headache." And yet 
 she could not conceive that these girls were not 
 good girls. They all treated her with the greatest 
 kindness; she felt better acquainted with them after 
 knowing them half an hour than she would have in 
 a year of the Harbury brand of friendship. They 
 were singularly simple-hearted and generous, and 
 they were loyal to their friends. It was only when 
 their interests in their profession clashed they 
 were most of them connected with the stage that 
 they were the opposite. Then they swung to the 
 other extreme, and became absolutely childish in 
 their unreason and jealousy. At first Ruth tried 
 to sum them up according to Harbury standards, but 
 the results were so dismal that she gave it up. She 
 was as much bewildered as she would have been had 
 she been transported to Mars, and endeavored to 
 find out the worth of the inhabitants by their cus- 
 toms. In Harbury it was customary to label people 
 as dogmatically, and with as much precision as one 
 would label specimens of beetles or insects; any man 
 or woman or child who did certain things was good; 
 if they did certain other things, they were bad; 
 that was all there was to it. In Harbury, for in-
 
 io6 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 stance, Lory would have been labeled bad ; her smok- 
 ing cigarettes in itself would have showed her moral 
 place in life. But Ruth knew that, on the contrary, 
 Lory was one of the best women she had ever met. 
 There were no bounds to her kindness of heart, to 
 her charity. No " hard-luck story " was too pre- 
 posterous to gain her sympathy: no one in need of 
 a friend ever came to her in vain. And many of 
 the women Ruth met were like Lory. So she de- 
 spaired of reaching an understanding of them, and 
 rested content to take them at face value, which 
 was in their favor. 
 
 This afternoon Ruth was a little nervous, and 
 very much excited, for to-night Benjamin Rudolf, 
 a theatrical manager who, Lory had declared, could 
 make Ruth's success on the stage assured if he 
 chose to, was coming to the house. He was a 
 friend of Lory and Jack's, and they had bulldozed 
 him into coming, which, from the number of times 
 he had put it off, was evidently against his desire. 
 But now he had promised that to-night he would 
 surely arrive. 
 
 The dinner was prepared, and Lory did not 
 come. Ruth was disappointed, but not surprised; 
 Lory's punctuality was a trait quite undeveloped. 
 Once in a great while she was on time, but it was 
 merely in the nature of an accident. Ruth waited 
 for an hour, and then ate dinner alone. She was
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 107 
 
 a little worried, as she always was when Lory did 
 not come home at the exact moment she had said 
 she would, and after finishing dinner roamed rest- 
 lessly around the little apartment, trying to amuse 
 herself by looking at the pictures with which Lory 
 had covered the walls. Lory had her own idea of 
 art, and in a way she was a collector. Whenever 
 she saw a picture that appealed to her, she bought 
 it, whether it was an oil painting or a penny postal 
 card. She carried it home, and hung it on the 
 wall wherever there happened to be a space; or, if 
 there were none, she tore down something of which 
 she was tired and put the new one there. The 
 result was that the walls presented a strange and 
 conglomerate aspect. Of some of the pictures Ruth 
 could not approve; they were what are sometimes 
 called " spicy," but the majority of them were mild 
 enough. A strange incongruity in Lory's nature 
 led her to love pictures of rural life although she 
 would not have been happy a day in the country 
 and so many of the scenes on the walls were laid 
 in Arcadia. It produced a strange impression to 
 see a scantily clothed ballet girl, with toe pointed 
 toward the sky, between two pictures of pastoral 
 quietude. 
 
 After a while she drifted over to the piano. For 
 a time she played listlessly. Then the spirit of the 
 music crept into her heart. She sang. Something,
 
 maybe it was the excitement of the expected visit 
 of Benjamin Rudolf, perhaps it was the passion for 
 harmony that sometimes grips the human soul like 
 a vise whatever it was, something made her sing 
 as she had not sung since that day so many weary 
 months ago when she was waiting amid the flow- 
 ers for John's return. And now she sang even bet- 
 ter, for then it was a child who sang; now it was 
 a woman, a woman who had suffered, and thus 
 come into the full estate of her womanhood. She 
 drifted from one selection to another, some sad, 
 some gay, until at last her fingers dropped from 
 the keys, and she arose. A soft clapping of hands 
 startled her. She turned quickly to look into the 
 laughing faces of Jack and Lory. With them was 
 a man, a stranger. 
 
 Lory was delighted about something. 
 
 " Oh, it couldn't have been better," she exclaimed 
 joyfully. " Now was I right, Rudy ; can she sing? " 
 
 The man laughed. " I am fully prepared to ad- 
 mit that she can, but perhaps you had better present 
 me to the young lady. It is rather embarrassing for 
 me to stand here without an introduction." 
 
 " Why, you poor dear ! " laughed Lory, " and 
 you so shy, too ! I ought to be ashamed of myself. 
 Miss Lawson, allow me to present Mr. Benjamin 
 Rudolf, a theatrical manager who has fooled the 
 public into thinking he can put on good shows. Of
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 109 
 
 course, it is all a bluff, but you must not let him 
 know you think so, or he would feel hurt. Rudy is 
 a sensitive little flower, and " 
 
 " Say, Lory," called Jack from the dining-room, 
 " if you ever get through talking, which I doubt, 
 will you kindly come out here and tell me where you 
 have hidden that corkscrew? You stow it away in 
 a new place every time I come. You must want 
 a fellow to die of thirst." 
 
 " No danger of your dying of thirst," retorted 
 Lory. " You'd break the necks off the bottles first. 
 I'll be there in a moment, only don't go mussing 
 around, upsetting everything. It's probably right 
 under your nose." 
 
 " I'll bet you that you can't find it yourself," 
 answered Jack in an injured tone. " Hurry up, 
 will you?" 
 
 " You two will have to finish introducing your- 
 selves," said Lory, smiling. " You see, he won't 
 be happy till he gets it" 
 
 She went into the other room, and Ruth and Ben- 
 jamin Rudolf were left alone. 
 
 ; ' You sing well," he commended gravely. " I 
 never realized before that there was any beauty in 
 some of those things you were singing, but you 
 have convinced me." 
 
 Ruth smiled happily. " Thank you," she said. 
 
 He strolled over to the table to get a cigarette,
 
 no THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 and Ruth had a good chance to observe him. So 
 this was the great Benjamin Rudolf, the man who 
 produced more light musical successes than any 
 other manager in America! He was of medium 
 height, rather stocky, and, like many of his race, 
 dark. Yet the resemblance ended there; his fea- 
 tures were regular and more like those of a Span- 
 iard than of a Hebrew. In dress he was quiet, and 
 the cut of his clothes was faultless; Ruth divined 
 that they were expensive. He wore no jewelry of 
 any kind, a simple gold scarf-pin being his only 
 ornament. Altogether he was very different from 
 the man whom she had expected to see, for she had 
 drawn a mental image of him as a loud, flashy indi- 
 vidual with the traditional diamond sparkling in his 
 shirt front. Lory had told her that Benjamin Ru- 
 dolf was forty-five years of age, but he did not look 
 it, and when he smiled he might have passed for 
 little more than half that age. 
 
 Meanwhile he had lighted his cigarette and taken 
 a seat facing her: 
 
 " I understand that you are thinking of the stage 
 as a profession, Miss Lawson." 
 
 " Yes," answered Ruth. " Lory seems to think 
 I ought to try it." 
 
 " Lory is right," he assented. " You sing far 
 better than the average light-opera comedienne, and, 
 Lory tells me, you dance gracefully. Add to that
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE in 
 
 fact that you are beautiful, and you have the three 
 attributes for success in musical comedy." 
 
 He uttered the praise in an entirely impersonal 
 manner, but Ruth flushed. 
 
 He added laughingly, "And you blush prettily. 
 We shall have to make you do that on the stage. 
 So few actresses have the accomplishment." 
 
 Ruth laughed frankly at her own embarrassment. 
 " It is rather an awkward habit blushing it 
 places one at a disadvantage." 
 
 " If to look charming is a disadvantage, it does 
 in your case." 
 
 Ruth was not used to this style of conversation, 
 and she was at a loss to know what to say, but the 
 necessity of an answer was done away with by the 
 reappearance of Jack and Lory, who between them 
 bore the necessary ingredients of a highball. Lory 
 poured out some whisky in a glass. " Say when, 
 Rudy." 
 
 " None for me, thank you." 
 
 "What?" She looked up, holding the bottle 
 still poised in the air, a comical look" of surprise 
 on her face. 
 
 " I am not drinking to-night," he said quietly. 
 
 Lory still stared at him in astonishment. "The 
 world has come to an end, Jack," she complained, 
 " and we are in the millennium. Rudy's on the 
 water wagon."
 
 H2 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 " Not on your life ! He's only joking." 
 
 " Are you joking, Rudy? " she asked hopefully. 
 
 " I am not," he answered, smiling. " I do not 
 care to drink to-night." 
 
 " It's queer," said Jack in a doleful voice, " how 
 quickly a perfectly rational man will go off his bal- 
 ance. Why, only on the way up here I was talking 
 to Rudy and he seemed all right. Now look at him, 
 a poor raving imbecile, blind to the delights of a 
 highball." 
 
 " If you had been a little blinder last night, my 
 dear friend," he retorted, laughing, " you would 
 not have had such a headache this morning." 
 
 " Just listen to the man talk ! " cried Jack in an 
 aggrieved tone. "When it was he but there, I 
 won't tell on him. Come on, Lory, let's you and 
 I hie ourselves to the dining-room. I can see that 
 this is no place for us." 
 
 Lory assented to this suggestion, dismally de- 
 claring that nothing was the same as when she was 
 young. 
 
 Ruth somewhat doubted the propriety of her be- 
 ing left alone with Rudolf, but he gave her no 
 chance to follow the others. 
 
 " Now that the children are disposed of," he said 
 lightly, " we can talk business. I'm just wondering 
 what part will suit you best. You are the right 
 size for the pony ballet, but the work is pretty hard ;
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 113 
 
 I would not want to see you attempt it. You are 
 not tall enough for a show girl the Gibson type is 
 all the rage just now so " He paused. 
 
 Ruth's face fell. 
 
 " So I think," he went on deliberately, " that we 
 will have to create a part especially for you." 
 
 " A part especially for me ! " cried Ruth in as- 
 tonishment. 
 
 " Oh, that is not as important as it sounds ! " 
 he hastened to say. " In a show like ' The Parisian 
 Milliner,' which I am putting on this fall, a special 
 part means only that we introduce a few new songs, 
 and lines enough to give an excuse for them." 
 
 " Do you mean that you will do this ? " she asked, 
 hardly able to believe her ears. 
 
 " That is the meaning I am trying to convey. 
 If you will come down to my office to-morrow morn- 
 ing at ten, I will tell you the details. Rehearsals 
 will begin in a few weeks from now." 
 
 " I don't know how I can thank you " 
 
 " Don't thank me at all," he interrupted. " It 
 is merely a matter of business. I think that your 
 being in * The Parisian Milliner ' will improve the 
 show. That's all there is to it. And now," he 
 went on, rising, " I must run along. I just dropped 
 in for a moment to see you. I confess, Miss Law- 
 son, that I did not want to come. Lory and Jack 
 fairly had to drag me here, but even they cannot
 
 ii4 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 keep me away now that I have seen you. It may be 
 foolish I hope it is not but I feel that we are 
 to be good friends." 
 
 " You are very kind," answered Ruth. She felt 
 uncomfortable in the face of his open admiration. 
 
 " Will you say good-by to Lory and Jack for 
 me? There is no need of disturbing them. Till 
 to-morrow morning," he said, holding out his hand. 
 
 He kept Ruth's hand just a shade longer than 
 the Harbury conventions would have deemed 
 proper; then, with a cheerful good-night, was 
 gone. Ruth stood where he had left her, a trifle be- 
 wildered by her sudden good fortune. A special 
 part in " The Parisian Milliner ! " It was beyond 
 her wildest dreams. At last opportunity had knocked 
 at her door when she was least expecting it, and 
 what an opportunity! She could almost see her- 
 self on the stage receiving the applause of a crowded 
 house. Exultation surged up in her heart. Then 
 something stirred in the depths of her soul, the 
 warning of a woman's intuition, but she crushed 
 it almost before it was conceived. There had been 
 nothing in Rudolf's manner to warrant such a sus- 
 picion. She imagined even that his not drinking 
 was meant as a mark of respect to her. 
 
 As she turned toward the dining-room to tell 
 Lory the good news, there was nothing but joy 
 in her heart.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 WHEN Ruth entered the dining-room, Lory was 
 sitting on the table, swinging her feet, and smoking 
 a cigarette. Jack was leaning back in a chair, lazily 
 smiling at something she was telling him and 
 puffing contentedly on a black cigar. As Ruth came 
 through the door, Jack glanced up. 
 
 " Where's Rudy ? " he asked. " Did his ride on 
 the water wagon kill him, or did he talk himself to 
 death telling you of his successes?" This was a 
 standard joke of Rudolf's friends, as he could never 
 be led to talk of his triumphs. Jack launched it joy- 
 fully at the ears of the unseen target, whom he sup- 
 posed to be in the next room. 
 
 " He's gone," answered Ruth. " He " 
 
 "Gone!" cried Lory, jumping down from the 
 table and facing Ruth. ",You didn't " 
 
 "Oh, Lory!" interrupted Ruth. "You can 
 never guess what he's going to do for me. He's 
 going to give me a special part in ' The Parisian 
 Milliner.' Just think of it a special part! " 
 
 There was a second's silence, in which a glance 
 passed between Jack and Lory. Then Lory caught 
 Ruth in her arms. " Oh, I'm so glad," she said. 
 
 "5
 
 n6 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 There was a restraint in her tone, a lack of 
 the hearty joy which Ruth had expected, and she 
 felt vaguely wounded. Jack's congratulations, too, 
 seemed forced. Ruth wondered at it even after 
 she went to her room, but she decided that no one 
 else could possibly feel about her success the way 
 she herself did. She set herself to looking into 
 the future, and imagining how it would feel to be an 
 actress. Her thoughts were all rose-tinted. The 
 air castles, which had been leveled to the earth in 
 the last few months, now rose in doubled splendor. 
 She settled her head on the pillow, once more de- 
 ciding that the world was a friendly place, after all. 
 
 In the dining-room, after Ruth had left, Jack 
 and Lory sat in a silence which neither seemed 
 desirous of breaking. 
 
 "Well?" said Jack at last. 
 
 Lory shook her head helplessly. " I had hoped," 
 she said with a trace of weariness in her voice, 
 " that Rudy would not be attracted, and yet I knew 
 all along that he would. She's too pretty, that's 
 what's the trouble, Jack, she's too pretty. I 
 thought," she went on after a moment, " that maybe 
 he would give her a part in the chorus, and then 
 I thought because she really has ability that she 
 could make her own way. But this special-part 
 business knocks all that in the head. Have you 
 tried all the other managers you know? "
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 117 
 
 Jack nodded. " The city is literally overrun with 
 chorus girls. There are twice as many as there 
 are places for them. And, of course, the managers 
 will give preference to those who have experience. 
 You know how hard it was to get Rudy interested 
 in her. To get him to see her at all, I had to tell 
 him how pretty she is. That's what I blame myself 
 for. It makes me feel guilty somehow." 
 
 Again there was a silence. 
 
 " There's no use talking about what has hap- 
 pened. The thing for us to do is to decide what 
 is best to be done now," Jack said. 
 
 " Have you an idea? " 
 
 "No. Have you?" 
 
 Lory shook her head. " The kid has got to have 
 money. You and I know that she will not be able 
 to get any job that will give her enough to sup- 
 port herself and send money home, unless it is 
 a pretty good thing on the stage. I counted on 
 her getting something in the chorus For a few 
 months, until she had experience, and then maybe 
 something better would turn up. In the meantime 
 I might make her accept a loan from me on the 
 strength of her prospects." 
 
 " Can't you get her to go on living here ? You 
 are not going on the road next season. I'd be will- 
 ing to put up the money." 
 
 " She would not do it. She only stays now be-
 
 ii8 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 cause I keep telling her that in the fall she will 
 get a position on the stage, and then can pay me 
 back." 
 
 Jack looked moodily at the end of his cigar. " I 
 don't like it. It's too much like a trap; she's so 
 plagued innocent." 
 
 " Do you think I like it any better ? " retorted 
 Lory. "If I could see any other way out for 
 the kid, I'd take it. But I've been thinking this 
 thing over for days ever since Rudolf promised 
 to come, and I'm all in; I can't think of a thing." 
 
 *' There's one thing about it," said Jack slowly. 
 " Rudy will give her a good send-off. If he takes 
 a liking to a girl, he isn't niggardly. And then 
 after that she can snap her ringers at him." 
 
 " That's just it. She'll make a hit. I am as sure 
 of it as I am that I'm sitting here. And it will 
 mean so much to her. On the other hand, sup- 
 posing I should go to her and tell her what 
 kind of a man Rudolf is, what then? She'd turn 
 him down, and probably would insist on starting 
 out again looking for a job. And she can't get one, 
 Jack. It's it's hell!" 
 
 " Maybe she will kick over the traces at the last 
 moment, anyway." 
 
 Lory laughed cynically. " Trust Rudolf for that. 
 He has sized her up already. Did you notice that 
 he refused to drink in her presence to-night? I
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 119 
 
 did not see the point at the time, but now I know 
 it was in line with the role he will play. He will 
 be, oh! so respectful and kind and friendly, until 
 he has showed her what success on the stage means, 
 until he has educated her to luxury." 
 
 " That's Rudy's way," said Jack gloomily. " I 
 used to think him clever. God ! " 
 
 " If Ruth were like most of the girls we know, 
 it would be different. Most of them would sell 
 their souls for a chance to gain Rudolf's influence. 
 If she has any sort of ability, and. I know she has, 
 she'll be a star in a few years. Then, if she were 
 like most of them, she would thank us for not 
 having interfered." 
 
 " But in her case " 
 
 " That's it. She's different." 
 
 " Maybe," said Jack with an undertone of hope 
 in his voice, " Rudy will run straight with her. 
 Maybe he will see that she is different, and respect 
 her for it. He has been thrown in with a fast crowd, 
 and is pretty rotten, as we all are, but there's prob- 
 ably a lot of good in him. He may fall in love 
 with her, and marry her. Stranger things have 
 happened." 
 
 " I've never told you before, because I did not 
 want it to get around, but she is already married, 
 Jack." 
 
 " What? Where's her husband then? "
 
 120 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 Lory told him the details of the case in a few 
 words. 
 
 Jack was silent when she finished. 
 
 " So you see," said Lory, " she's got to hive 
 money. There's no use talking about what she 
 ought to do, or the right thing to do. There isn't 
 anything she can do but get money. It's the old 
 story. People talk about morals and all that, but 
 when you come right down to the bottom of the 
 question, you find that money is the basis of the 
 whole thing. You can't live without money, and 
 there isn't anyone who's going to give it to you. 
 Ruth isn't the only girl that's been up against that 
 proposition." 
 
 " Then you don't think you could induce her 
 to stay here with you, and cook up some excuse for 
 paying her a salary ? " 
 
 " It's awfully good of you, Jack, but I know she 
 wouldn't do it." 
 
 " Then the only thing we can do is to let things 
 drift, and hope that something will turn up." 
 
 " We can hope," said Lory with a trace of bit- 
 terness in her voice, " but things don't usually turn 
 up that way." 
 
 All that night Lory lay awake trying to devise 
 some plan by which Ruth might escape from Ben- 
 jamin Rudolf's influence, but she could find no 
 way out of the dilemma. On the one side rose, as
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 121 
 
 a barrier, poverty, and Ruth was in dire need of 
 money ; on the other hand she did not like to think 
 of it. 
 
 At first, when she had come to live with her, Lory 
 had thought some of Ruth's innocence was affec- 
 tation. It was hard for Lory to realize, reared as 
 she had been in the midst of certain conditions, how 
 anyone could be ignorant of them, nor could she 
 understand the fineness of feeling which made Ruth 
 color up at things which seemed commonplace to 
 her. But as time passed Lory came to the conclu- 
 sion that Ruth was sincere and good, with a deli- 
 cacy of nature which Lory must respect even if 
 she did not understand. And, strangely enough, 
 the very quality which Lory would have condemned 
 in other girls as prudery drew her closer to Ruth. 
 Now she would have given anything she possessed 
 to shield her friend from the temptations and vil- 
 lainy of the world. There may have been some 
 way; some plan might have been devised to avert 
 the peril; but Lory did not know of any. She 
 tossed and turned until daylight shone through her 
 window, but she was as far away from a solution 
 as she had been the previous night 
 
 So in the end she decided that all she could do 
 was to help make the success so big that, if the 
 price were high, still there would be something 
 to be said on the other side.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 RUDOLF turned toward the elevated station. He 
 had an engagement to meet a couple of friends at 
 Morini's. His thoughts were occupied with the 
 girl he had just left. He felt she would do well 
 on the stage, and not in years had he met a woman 
 who attracted him so much. Her petite daintiness 
 pleased him, her ethereal beauty stirred him to the 
 depths of his being. And then there was something 
 about her something he vaguely realized but could 
 not understand. 
 
 " I'll give her a chance," he told himself. " From 
 what I have heard, she has had a pretty hard 
 time." 
 
 Benjamin Rudolf was, to a certain extent, the 
 product of his environment. If one sets a child in 
 the midst of a swamp, one does not wonder if 
 the child becomes dirty, nor should it cause sur- 
 prise that Rudolf, thrown into daily contact with 
 a type or perhaps it would be as accurate to say, 
 attracting to himself a type to whom the honor of 
 a woman is a joke, should come to look on it as 
 a matter of small moment. 
 
 In the present case he regarded himself as a 
 
 122
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 123 
 
 benefactor. He had found Ruth penniless; he 
 would give her comparative wealth. He had found 
 her unknown; he would develop her into a star 
 and make her name famous in every city in the 
 country. He felt sorry for her, that she had met 
 with so much adversity since coming to New York, 
 and was glad that it lay in his power to make her 
 lot in life easier. He would do his best to help her 
 succeed on the stage. 
 
 Yet such was his accustomed trend of thought, 
 and he was one of a large class of men, that it 
 did not occur to him, except in a vague way, that 
 he might do all this for nothing. He accepted the 
 price as a matter of course looked upon it in 
 the light of an ordinary business bargain. That 
 he contemplated doing a woman an injury for 
 which nothing could atone, never once entered his 
 mind. He knew that she would object to paying 
 the price. He knew that he would have to lay his 
 plans carefully to induce her to enter into the 
 agreement. He felt, even on such short acquaint- 
 ance, that she was one of the few women he knew 
 who did not look lightly on this sort of thing, but 
 he viewed the matter in much the same light as a 
 business man would, who tries to induce another 
 to take up a proposition desirable for them both, 
 even if he has to argue the other into it against 
 his will. Had anyone told him that he was guilty
 
 124 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 of the deepest villainy, he would have been sur- 
 prised and indignant, and would have defended 
 himself by saying that he was no worse than other 
 men, that it was impossible for a poor girl to get 
 along in New York without a " protector," and 
 what difference did it make whether it were he or 
 some other man? If his accuser denounced him for 
 deliberately laying a trap to ensnare a woman, 
 against her will, he would have replied that he was 
 giving her a fair return, and that the day would 
 come when she would see it in that light, even if 
 she did not at first. 
 
 Rudolf walked along smiling to himself, well 
 pleased that chance had thrown Ruth in his way. 
 Once he chuckled at the recollection of his refus- 
 ing to drink. " That was the right line to take," 
 he told himself. " I'll stick to it." 
 
 When he reached Morini's, the two men whom he 
 was to meet were already there. These two were 
 always together. Ned Redburn was a short, jolly, 
 little man, whose fat face was wrinkled by much 
 laughter, for he looked upon the whole world as 
 a joke, and himself as the biggest joke of all. 
 Franklin Morris was of a more sober turn of mind, 
 and, had circumstances been otherwise, he would 
 have used his unusually keen mind to some advan- 
 tage, but he had been born rich, and a natural 
 apathy of disposition prevented him from being
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 125 
 
 anything but an idler. Both men, in fact, lived 
 merely for pleasure, both were members of that 
 mysterious class vaguely known as " men about 
 town," and both had been in love with the same 
 woman. It had worried them, at the time of their 
 desperate infatuation for Margaret Livingstone, to 
 think that when she married one of them each 
 was equally sure it would be the other their friend- 
 ship might be, to a certain extent, broken up. But 
 she had settled the matter, happily for herself, by 
 marrying neither, but instead an earnest young 
 worker in the world of affairs. This common sor- 
 row had drawn them even closer together, until 
 now they were happy only when in each other's 
 company. 
 
 As usual, Redburn was in the midst of the re- 
 cital of a huge joke in which he had figured. 
 
 " The funniest thing I ever heard of," he de- 
 clared rapturously. " There was I without a cent 
 I'd bet my last penny on the sixth race and I 
 couldn't find a man I knew in the whole crowd. 
 Thought sure it was a case of walk home for me, 
 and " 
 
 " So that's your idea of a joke, is it ? " commented 
 Rudolf, dropping into a chair. " I don't think I 
 would enjoy that particular brand." 
 
 "Oh, hello, Rudy! Thought you'd eloped. 
 What'll you have to drink? "
 
 126 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 Rudolf gave his order. " Go on with the joke. 
 Did you have to walk home ? " 
 
 " Wait till you hear. Well, as I was saying, I 
 didn't have a red cent and I couldn't find a friend 
 to touch. Why, any other time I'd seen thousands 
 of 'em positively thousands but nary a one when 
 I wanted 'em. But at last I did see a fellow I 
 sort of half knew used to see him over at the 
 yards when I was having the yacht overhauled 
 so I went up to him and asked him for a loan. 
 What do you think he said ? " 
 
 He leaned back in anticipated joy at the others' 
 inability to guess. 
 
 " Oh, hurry up, Ned, get it over with ! " said 
 Morris impatiently. " What's the use of being 
 so painfully long-winded ? " 
 
 Redburn was not a bit abashed by his friend's 
 lack of appreciation; he was used to it. That was 
 one strange feature of their friendship; they al- 
 ways irritated each other. 
 
 " What do you guess, Rudy ? " 
 
 " I guess he told you to go to the devil, as I 
 should have." 
 
 "The very thing!" cried Redburn joyfully. 
 " He told me to go to the devil, and I banged him 
 one, and the coppers had to pull us apart. I'd 'a' 
 got arrested, too, if there hadn't been a copper I 
 knew in the bunch. I told him about it, and he let
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 127 
 
 me go, and lent me enough money to buy a ticket 
 home. I offered him a V if he'd lock the other 
 fellow up just for a joke, you know but he 
 wouldn't." 
 
 " Probably knew he'd never get the V," sug- 
 gested Rudolf dryly. 
 
 " Maybe that was the trouble," assented Ned. 
 " Say, that reminds me of a story " 
 
 " For Heaven's sake, Ned," cut in Morris, 
 " aren't you going to let Rudy and me get a word 
 in edgewise all evening? This isn't a monologue 
 act, you know. What have you been up to, 
 Rudy?" 
 
 " Been calling on a friend of Lory's who wants 
 to go on the stage." 
 
 "Not that girl who's staying with her?" de- 
 manded Ned, uneclipsed by his friend's admoni- 
 tion. 
 
 Rudolf nodded. 
 
 " Then you'll be able to appreciate the greatest 
 joke ever. Morry and I were up there the other 
 night with Jack, and say, isn't she a little peach! 
 Did you ever see such tiny hands and feet on any- 
 thing but a baby? And talk about eyes " 
 
 " Let's have the story," interrupted Rudolf. 
 " You can cut out the description ; we have all seen 
 her." 
 
 " Well, as she was living with Lory, I thought
 
 128 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 she was a little Bohemian, you know; so, after I'd 
 had a couple of highballs, I started to put my arm 
 around her. Gad, you ought to have seen the look 
 she gave me. I'd 'a' crawled under the sofa if I 
 hadn't been so fat." 
 
 " Too bad you couldn't," said Morris sarcas- 
 tically. " You ought to have your fat head punched. 
 Anyone with half an eye could see that she wouldn't 
 stand for that kind of thing." 
 
 " Say, Rudy," said Redburn, ignoring his friend's 
 criticism, " I've been wondering whether she knows 
 about Lory and Jack." 
 
 Rudolf fingered his glass a moment before reply- 
 ing. " Of course I don't know, but, from what 
 Jack has told me, I rather think she does not. She 
 is from the country down in New England some- 
 where and I wouldn't be a bit surprised if she did 
 not know of the er existing conditions." 
 
 " How does she come to be living with a girl 
 like Lory ? " asked Morris earnestly. 
 
 " She was sick, I believe, and Lory found her, 
 and took her home. I guess the girl found New 
 York a pretty stiff proposition to handle. She 
 came here to earn her living, and pretty nearly 
 starved to death." 
 
 "What's she going to do now?" asked Morris. 
 "Is she going to live with Lory right along?" 
 
 " Why, I think I'll look after her myself. I'm
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 129 
 
 going to give her a special part in ' The Parisian 
 Milliner.' " 
 
 " Good for you, Rudy ! " exclaimed Redburn. " I 
 know you'll give her a good send-off, and me for 
 the bald-headed row the first night." 
 
 But Morris did not echo his friend's enthusiasm. 
 He looked sharply at Rudolf, then dropped his eyes, 
 and frowned at his glass. 
 
 Rudolf regarded him with an amused smile. Yet 
 a moment later the three men were deeply engrossed 
 in a discussion as to the comparative merits of two 
 well-known pugilists who were to meet in the ring 
 in a few days.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 WHETHER it was because of the supper at Morini's 
 or the heat of the August night, Rudolf did not 
 know, but at any rate he lay awake long after he 
 had retired. And all the time he was thinking of 
 Ruth. When he at last fell asleep he had a dream. 
 
 He dreamed that he and she were walking through 
 a pine forest, he could smell the fresh, clean odor 
 of the trees, could see the clear blue of the sky 
 between their tall tops, could hear the soft sigh- 
 ing of the wind among their branches. He felt his 
 heart beat with a new, pure emotion. He felt 
 the power of a mighty passion, such as he had never 
 known, surging through his veins. He was filled 
 with an irresistible longing, not for his own, but for 
 her happiness. The desire to protect her from the 
 world, from himself, if need be, burned deep into 
 his heart. With these feelings came another rev- 
 erence for a woman. He trembled in his unworthi- 
 ness, and his tongue refused the words of love that 
 rushed up from his breast. While he hesitated the 
 vision faded, and he awoke. 
 
 But the impression of the dream remained. An 
 unaccustomed shame swept over him. For an in- 
 
 130
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 131 
 
 stant he knew himself as he really was. Then he 
 angrily shook off the feeling, and strove to restore 
 his thoughts to their normal trend, but in this en- 
 deavor he was not entirely successful. He ate his 
 breakfast with a strangely dissatisfied feeling, and 
 instead of riding to his office in his car, as was his 
 custom, walked down, thinking to overcome the 
 strange condition of his nerves. And this he suc- 
 ceeded in doing to a certain extent, but whenever he 
 thought of Ruth the dream impression took the 
 place of the feeling he had held toward her the 
 night before. Not that Rudolf was in love, he was 
 far from it. He would have repudiated the dream 
 feeling if he could; his waking consciousness did 
 not endorse it in the least, but still, in his subcon- 
 scious mentality, there remained certain sensations 
 which the dream had called into life. It was these 
 of which, try as he might, he could not rid him- 
 self. 
 
 When he arrived at the office, he found his part- 
 ner in a state of excitement, but, as that was not an 
 uncommon condition with Sam Andrews, he did 
 not attach any importance to the phenomenon. 
 Samuel Andrews was one of the men who worry 
 through life. If he had real troubles, he fretted 
 himself almost into a state of nervous prostration, 
 and, if he had no real troubles, he invented imagi- 
 nary ones and hugged them tightly to his bosom.
 
 132 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 His flabby countenance was almost always creased 
 in lines of vexation, and his pale blue eyes con- 
 stantly wore a frightened expression, as if he sus- 
 pected Fate of being about to overwhelm him. 
 
 " Good-morning, Sam," said Rudolf gravely to 
 that corpulent individual. " If you don't stop wor- 
 rying, you'll get thin. I had an old aunt who used 
 to fuss around like you do, and she became thin 
 as a rail. What is the trouble now ? Has the Pro- 
 hibition movement been gaining ground, or is there 
 a strike of the ' Chorus Ladies' Union ' ? " 
 
 " There's hell to pay," responded Sam, holding 
 out a letter in his shaking hand. " Tessie Darling- 
 ton wants to be released from her contract. She 
 says she's going to be married and retire from the 
 stage. How in the devil are we to find another 
 Sylvia at this late day ? " 
 
 Rudolf took the letter, and scanned its many 
 pages. It was a request, as Sam had stated, that 
 she be released from her contract to play Sylvia, 
 the leading part in " The Parisian Milliner." Be- 
 tween the lines Rudolf read that, if she were not 
 released, she would make things as uncomfortable 
 for everyone concerned as she possibly could. Ru- 
 dolf decided that, in this case, Sam had some cause 
 for worry. The whole play centered on that part; 
 with a Sylvia who would appeal to the public, the 
 show would be a success; otherwise, it would be
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 133 
 
 characterized, as indeed it was, a bundle of non- 
 sense with music clearly reminiscent of many other 
 productions of late years. 
 
 He finished the letter, and leaned back in his 
 chair, holding up an impatient hand to forestall 
 another outburst from his partner. And then, in a 
 second, a plan leaped into his mind, a plan so 
 fantastic, so utterly opposed to his business instinct, 
 his managerial experience, that he thought he must 
 be mad to think of it. But the thought was per- 
 sistent. Then came the question, why not? He 
 tried to array all the facts pro and con in his mind, 
 but they refused to be so arrayed. He could think 
 of only the one overshadowing demand of this 
 strange conception Ruth Lawson should be Syl- 
 via! Already in his mind's eye he saw her, dainty 
 and demure, with the beauty of a flower, tripping 
 through the umbrella dance, or lifting her sweet- 
 toned soprano in the Violet song. He could hear 
 the applause of the enraptured audience, and, as he 
 had the money instinct of his race, could imagine 
 the size of the box-office receipts. Yes; why not? 
 She could sing well he knew that and he trusted 
 Lory's judgment about her dancing, and Lory had 
 said Ruth was the most graceful dancer she had 
 ever seen. Indeed, he knew that she must be. The 
 acting amounted to very little; he could teach her 
 that. He felt that she would do that well, also.
 
 134 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 Yes; Ruth Lawson should be Sylvia. Yet he would 
 do nothing rash. He would try her in the part at 
 a rehearsal. If she failed, he would have to hold 
 Tessie Darlington to her contract. 
 
 And then, in an instant, he had mapped out a 
 scheme of advertising. He would publish the fact 
 abroad that he had discovered a comedienne of such 
 extraordinary ability that he, Benjamin Rudolf, who 
 had never yet put on a failure, was willing to stake 
 his reputation on her success, although she had never 
 been on the stage in her life. He would have his 
 press agent work up a romantic story about the 
 little country girl who came to New York. He 
 would dilate on her hardships, her sickness, and 
 finally her elevation to a star in a Broadway pro- 
 duction at one bound. The public's curiosity would 
 be whetted. They would flock to the theater. It 
 would be the greatest sensation ever known in the- 
 atrical circles. Unconsciously he smiled. 
 
 " I'd like to know what you find so very funny 
 about it," demanded Sam angrily. 
 
 Rudolf had forgotten his partner's presence. He 
 turned with a start. Then a boyish desire to shock 
 Sam came over him. He could imagine his part- 
 ner's consternation at the news. He tipped his chair 
 back, and put the points of his fingers together, 
 looking at his partner with an expression of care- 
 less good humor.
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 135 
 
 " You need not worry about Tessie Darlington. 
 I know a young woman who will make a far better 
 Sylvia than she." 
 
 Sam's face showed relief. Then the worry sprang 
 again into his eyes. 
 
 " Tell me who she is," he exclaimed excitedly, 
 " so that I can go to her right off with the con- 
 tract. Some one may snap her up while we are 
 fooling around here." 
 
 Rudolf smiled calmly. " I scarcely think she will 
 be snapped up before ten o'clock, at which hour 
 I have an appointment with her here. In fact," he 
 went on slowly, his eyes on the other's face, " I 
 doubt if there is another manager in New York 
 who would want her. You see, this young woman 
 has never been on the stage in her life." 
 
 Sam's eyes bulged out. " Is this a joke, or are 
 you crazy or drunk ? " 
 
 " I didn't mean it as a joke, and I am not 
 
 drunk. As to being crazy " He shrugged his 
 
 shoulders. 
 
 " Do you mean to tell me that you are thinking 
 of putting an amateur on to play Sylvia?" de- 
 manded Sam in a choked voice. 
 
 " That's about it." 
 
 " My God ! You are crazy." 
 
 "Not at all," returned Rudolf easily. " I am 
 gifted with second sight, that's all. I see her bring-
 
 136 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 ing down the house, and bringing in the money. 
 I have heard her sing, I have been told by one on 
 whose judgment I can rely that she is a graceful 
 dancer, and she is as pretty as a picture. It is 
 enough. She will make a hit. But to quiet your 
 nerves, which seem to be a little disordered this 
 morning, you may write to Tessie, and tell her 
 that we shall do our best to fill her place, but, fail- 
 ing that, we will be obliged to hold her to her 
 contract. Put in the usual felicitations on her ap- 
 proaching marriage and be careful not to make 
 the letter sound like a threat. Tessie is easy to 
 handle if you coax her, but if you try to drive 
 her well, she is the devil. Now supposing you 
 run out and get a drink before you go all to pieces 
 and get to writhing on the floor." 
 
 Sam waddled out, a ludicrous look of conster- 
 nation on his fat face, muttering to himself, and 
 shaking his head dolefully. He saw ruin staring 
 the firm of Rudolf and Andrews in the face. Not 
 that one failure, or even two or three, could accom- 
 plish the downfall of so wealthy and influential a 
 firm, but if Rudolf was losing his grip this way 
 
 After Sam had left, Rudolf turned to his desk, 
 but not to work. His letters lay unopened while 
 he traced designs on the blotting pad. 
 
 Rudolf had lightly told his partner that he was 
 gifted with second sight. As a matter of fact, he
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 137 
 
 was endowed, as are so many of his race, with a 
 rare intuition. A great part of his business suc- 
 cess was the result of this characteristic. He had 
 done things almost as daring as this before; Tes- 
 sie Darlington herself he had discovered in the 
 chorus of a burlesque show, and, after trying her 
 for one season in a minor part, had launched her 
 as a star. The critics had backed up his judgment. 
 Besides, Rudolf was a great believer in the 
 power of advertising. He would make the pub- 
 lic think they were to be startled into astonished 
 admiration, and the chances were, a thousand to 
 one, that they would be. He knew that there were 
 many comic-opera stars on the stage who were 
 not nearly so pretty as Ruth, who had not half the 
 voice she possessed, and were surely not as grace- 
 ful in dancing as he knew she must be, yet they 
 drew crowds year after year through the merit of 
 advertising. And, then, the part fitted Ruth as if 
 it had been written for her. Sylvia, the little Pari- 
 sian milliner, about whom the play was woven, 
 was just another such girl as Ruth. Now, after 
 he had thought of them as one, he could hardly 
 keep the real Ruth separate in his mind from the 
 Sylvia of the fiction. He was sure that she would 
 measure up to his judgment, that she would be a suc- 
 cess. Already he had almost dismissed the thought, 
 that Tessie might have to take the part after all,
 
 138 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 from his mind. He realized that he had arrived 
 at a decision at one jump, when it would take most 
 men months of consideration to come to the point 
 of being willing to put an unknown and inexperi- 
 enced woman on the stage as a star. Yet he be- 
 lieved his judgment to be sound enough to warrant 
 the experiment on strictly business grounds. Yet 
 deep in his heart was another motive, and it was 
 this motive which influenced him more than any 
 other, although he did not realize it. The dream 
 had awakened a desire to shower all the good things 
 of the world on the girl. To give her merely a 
 fair part, and gradually lead her up to success, was 
 not now enough. He was impatient to see her at 
 the top, enthroned in luxury, wealth, and power. 
 He was anxious that she know it was he who had 
 done all this for her. She must feel that she owed 
 everything to him, and it would be strange if, when 
 she did realize all this, she would not feel a grati- 
 tude that was akin to love. And if he did all this 
 for her if, at the risk of a great money loss, to 
 say nothing of impaired prestige, he was willing 
 to do this surely the return he would ask was very 
 small. 
 
 Thus he reasoned, and by such devious argu- 
 ments he justified his course and succeeded in qui- 
 eting, for the time being, the outcries of a conscience 
 which had been reawakened by the dream.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 WHEN Ruth awoke the next morning, she won- 
 dered for a moment why she was so happy. Then 
 she remembered. She sprang out of bed and has- 
 tened into Lory's room. 
 
 " Wake up ! " she cried gayly, shaking her. 
 
 Lory opened her eyes. " What's the matter ? " 
 she asked sleepily. 
 
 " A great actress has come to see you. Hurry 
 and get up." 
 
 " Who? " demanded Lory, starting up. 
 
 " Why, me ! Don't you remember ? I'm to be 
 a ' footlight favorite.' Just think of it, Lory, 
 dear ! " She laughed joyously. 
 
 " Oh you ! " answered Lory in pretended dis- 
 dain. " I thought maybe Sara Bernhardt had 
 dropped in to borrow some money. But you're all 
 right, kid. I knew, if he heard you sing, it'd be 
 you for the boards." 
 
 So Lory answered jestingly, although there was 
 a dull pain at her heart. Yet she was somewhat 
 of a philosopher. She had decided that she could 
 do nothing; there was no use of worrying. Maybe 
 things would straighten themselves out somehow. 
 
 139
 
 140 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 " You're in luck, kid. You've got a great 
 chance. Rudolf will make your fortune." 
 
 " If he does, you deserve half." She sat down 
 on the bed, and became serious. " I owe it all to 
 you. I often shudder to think what would have 
 become of me if you had not been so kind. And 
 I was a perfect stranger to you, yet you brought 
 me home. Why, for all you knew, I might have 
 been anything ! " 
 
 Lory drew her down and kissed her impulsively. 
 " I'd take the risk of your being ' anything,' ' 
 she mimicked. " What time are you going down 
 to see Rudy?" 
 
 " At ten o'clock. I hope he hasn't changed his 
 mind." 
 
 " No danger," answered Lory, although she al- 
 most wished he had. 
 
 " I can't imagine why he offered me such a good 
 position. There must be lots of girls who are ever 
 so much more clever than I am. Why, he doesn't 
 even know whether I can dance or not." 
 
 "Oh, I told him that! I told him that, if he 
 gave you a job, you'd make good, all right." 
 
 " I hope I can. Oh, I do hope I won't disap- 
 point him ! " 
 
 Lory laughed dryly. 
 
 " Why do you laugh like that ? " Ruth demanded 
 uneasily.
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 141 
 
 " Because you're so blamed modest," answered 
 Lory evasively. 
 
 Ruth went back into her own room to dress, 
 and Lory relapsed into thought. She was over- 
 joyed to see Ruth so happy. Indeed, she could 
 hardly believe that she was the same girl, and, if 
 just the anticipation of success could produce such 
 a change, was not the real thing itself worth a great 
 deal? Perhaps Ruth would come to look at it in 
 that light herself. She was glad that she had not 
 yielded to the impulse to warn Ruth. She already 
 felt a little ashamed of her heroics thus she la- 
 beled her conversation with Jack, of the previous 
 night. Now, in the light of Ruth's evidently high 
 estimate of her good fortune, things did not seem 
 so bad, after all. She settled down for another 
 nap with a calmer and more hopeful mind. She 
 was soon disturbed again by Ruth's voice from the 
 other room: 
 
 "Lor-ree! What dress shall I wear?" 
 
 " Oh, any one that old brown one will be good 
 enough ! " 
 
 An exclamation of disgust reached Lory's ears, 
 and she chuckled. " The kid's waking up," she said 
 to herself. 
 
 And Lory was right. The sudden good fortune, 
 following on the heels of so many adversities, rolled 
 back to the span of Ruth's life, and blotted out
 
 142 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 the past year of misery. Her self-esteem had been 
 restored, and with it had come her native high 
 spirits. She sang happily to herself as she 
 dressed. 
 
 The clock on the wall of Rudolf's office was strik- 
 ing ten when Ruth's name was announced. 
 
 " Show her in at once," he said to the young 
 woman who brought the information. 
 
 She hesitated. " That letter from Dresier and 
 Company came this morning. Did you notice it? " 
 She glanced meaningly at the pile of unopened 
 mail. 
 
 " It can wait," answered Rudolf impatiently. 
 " Show Miss Lawson in." 
 
 The young woman obeyed, casting a curious 
 glance at the girl who could make Benjamin Ru- 
 dolf put aside business. 
 
 Ruth was attired in a white-duck suit with a 
 broad sailor collar. Her hair was gathered in a 
 simple knot on the nape of her neck. She looked 
 indescribably pretty and girlish. 
 
 " You see, I am on time, Mr. Rudolf," she said, 
 smiling brightly. 
 
 He rose to greet her. As he did so, the dream 
 feeling swept over him, and his answer was tinged 
 with an unaccustomed embarrassment. 
 
 " It is always well to be punctual," he said, and,
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 143 
 
 as soon as he had said it, knew it to be a banal 
 remark. 
 
 Ruth laughed, a merry laugh. " You said that 
 quite like a schoolmaster," she observed. 
 
 " I admit the charge," he returned lightly, hav- 
 ing recovered himself. " Anyway, it was a laud- 
 able sentiment." 
 
 " Oh, laudable certainly ! " 
 
 He was quite as surprised in the change in her 
 as Lory had been, and quite as pleased. This girl- 
 ish vivacity suited him even better than her timidity 
 of last evening. He was glad that she was not 
 dull. 
 
 She sat down and glanced around the room. The 
 office was furnished simply, almost barely. The 
 desk at which Rudolf was sitting would not have 
 brought five dollars at auction. She was somewhat 
 surprised. He caught her thought. 
 
 " It is not very artistic, is it ? You see, this is 
 the way it was when I started twenty years ago, 
 although my office was then in another building 
 and, well, I have a fondness for the old things fa- 
 miliar associations and all that." 
 
 She nodded. " I understand," she said. " And 
 now," she went on brightly, " about my part? " 
 
 He picked up a ruler from his desk and fingered 
 it nervously: 
 
 " I have a request to make, for which I cannot
 
 144 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 give an adequate explanation. Call it a whim or 
 anything you like it is in reference to your part." 
 
 She was all attention. 
 
 " The leading character in ' The Parisian Mil- 
 liner ' is a young girl, who, brought up in a con- 
 vent, is thrown among the very opposite conditions 
 in Paris. Miss Darlington will play the part the 
 coming season, but I have a desire to see you in 
 the role. Of course, there is the regular under- 
 study, but I want you to be able to take the part 
 at a rehearsal. As you probably know, the star 
 appears at rehearsals only when she cannot pos- 
 sibly find any excuse for skipping them. Some- 
 times the understudy is sick, or must be absent for 
 some other reason, so it is not a bad thing to have 
 an extra. If you are willing to be this extra, it 
 will mean a good deal of work for you, but it will 
 be good training." 
 
 "Why, of course I am willing!" cried Ruth 
 eagerly. " I shall love to." 
 
 " Good ! " He was relieved that she asked no 
 questions. "Of course, your salary will be the 
 same whether you are doing this work or appear- 
 ing in a regular part, and we will decide about the 
 part, of which I spoke to you last night, later. 
 Your salary will be thirty dollars a week to begin 
 with. If you wish, I will give you an advance on 
 it now." He reached for his check-book.
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 145 
 
 A sudden uncertainty leaped into Ruth's mind. 
 " Oh, no ! " she said, drawing back. " I will wait 
 until my work begins." 
 
 " Very well." 
 
 " But are you sure I am worth so much money ? 
 It seems like a great deal." 
 
 " My dear Miss Lawson," he said gravely, but 
 with a twinkle in his eye, " you should not ask such 
 a question ; it is very amateurish. You are to be an 
 actress, therefore you should endeavor to act like 
 one. What you should have said was that you 
 thought you should have forty." 
 
 " I can say it yet," she retorted. 
 
 " Oh, no ! Opportunity knocks but once, you 
 know. But remember next time." 
 
 " I will," she promised, laughing. 
 
 He touched a button on his desk. " Bring the 
 part of Sylvia to me," he said to the young woman 
 who answered his summons. 
 
 When it was brought, he placed it in Ruth's 
 hands. She scanned the typewritten pages ear- 
 nestly, a little frown of concentration on her face. 
 As Rudolf sat watching her, he was gripped again 
 by the dream feeling. He swung back to his desk 
 impatiently. 
 
 " I must be getting in my second childhood," he 
 muttered, taking up his mail. 
 
 But he did not open it. Instead, in a moment,
 
 146 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 he shamefacedly swung his chair back again, and 
 stole a look at her. 
 
 At last she looked up. " It is very clever," she 
 commented, " but I think some of the lines could 
 be improved." 
 
 He looked amused. " Are you yearning to be- 
 come a playwright, Miss Lawson ? " 
 
 A sudden realization of her temerity swept over 
 her. 
 
 " I should not have made the suggestion," she 
 apologized. " I was so interested that I for- 
 got " 
 
 " No, no ! " he protested. " You are perfectly 
 right. Often a novice judges more nearly from the 
 viewpoint of the audience than we of the profes- 
 sion, who naturally look at everything from the 
 stage point of view. If you find any lines you think 
 you can improve, make the alterations and show 
 them to me. I want you to feel an interest in the 
 part." 
 
 She rose. " I will not take up any more of your 
 time, Mr. Rudolf." 
 
 " I am not busy," he protested. " Won't you 
 wait and go out to lunch with me? It is nearly 
 twelve now." 
 
 She declined, and he had to let her go, although, 
 yielding to an impulse for which he could not ac- 
 count, he stood at the window and watched her
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 147 
 
 go up the street until she was lost to his view in 
 the crowd. Then he turned back to the desk, and 
 plunged into his work. But the face of Ruth had 
 a way of obtruding in his thoughts and driving 
 out the business in hand. Once in the midst of 
 dictating a letter, he relapsed into a brown study, 
 from which he was aroused by his stenographer, 
 who was patently amused. He finally gave it up 
 and went out to lunch. 
 
 On Broadway near Thirty-ninth Street, he en- 
 countered Ned Redburn. 
 
 " Hello, Rudy ! " cried this little man gayly. 
 " Wait till you hear the joke on Fred Van Horn ! 
 It's the best ever." 
 
 But Rudolf pushed by him with a muttered ex- 
 cuse that he was in a hurry, and left Ned star- 
 ing after him with a comical expression of dismay 
 on his chubby face. 
 
 " Well, I wonder what has got into Rudy ! " he 
 exclaimed. " I never knew him to act that way 
 before." He stood shaking his head in perplexity, 
 a puzzled frown on his face. 
 
 But the frown soon disappeared, and his coun- 
 tenance relapsed into its usual smiling, self-com- 
 placent condition. 
 
 " That's a good one on me, all right. Cut dead 
 on the street. Gad! What will Morry say when 
 he hears it? He's always saying that I am get-
 
 148 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 ting to be a bore. Guess I won't tell him. Yes, 
 I will, too it's too good to keep." 
 
 Rudolf continued on his way to the club. There 
 he met a man who had a business proposition to 
 make, and Rudolf forgot for a time about Ruth. 
 But, on his return to the office, she was recalled 
 to his mind. There was the chair in which she had 
 sat; he could picture to himself exactly how she 
 looked. Seized with a sudden burst of impatience, 
 he flung the chair across the room. Again he took 
 up his work, but work was not for Rudolf that day. 
 He found himself making inconceivable blunders; 
 he dictated a letter, concerning an important busi- 
 ness matter, to the wrong firm. Sam discovered 
 the error. 
 
 " Look here, Ben," he said hotly. " If you want 
 to get drunk, why all right, but for God's sake don't 
 do it during business hours. What d'ye think these 
 people would have thought of you if I hadn't got 
 onto this ? " 
 
 Rudolf made a pretense of calmly going on with 
 a letter he was writing, but inwardly he was boil- 
 ing with fury against Sam for having discovered 
 his mistake. 
 
 " Do you hear what I say ? " shouted Sam. He 
 had a slumbering temper, but when it was aroused 
 it was wide-awake. 
 
 " You go to the devil," Rudolf hissed at his
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 149 
 
 partner, and left the office, banging the door be- 
 hind him. 
 
 Sam stared at the door a moment, then he chuc- 
 kled. " I got a rise out of Bennie that time, all 
 right." A thought struck him, and turned his face 
 sober. " I wonder if anything is the matter with 
 him. He's acted devilish queer all day. This morn- 
 ing about that Sylvia business and now I won- 
 der " He worried about it all the rest of the 
 
 afternoon. 
 
 In the meantime, Rudolf had gone into a nearby 
 drug store and telephoned for his car, and was 
 now striding angrily up and down in front of the 
 office waiting for it. 
 
 " The blamed fool ! " he kept saying to himself. 
 " Just an ordinary mistake the blamed fool ! " 
 
 When his car came he dismissed the chauffeur, 
 and, taking the wheel, began to drive recklessly 
 amid the Broadway traffic, until he was brought 
 up short by an officer, who arrested him and haled 
 him before a magistrate. Rudolf paid his fine 
 sullenly, and started out once more, but this time 
 in a more subdued spirit. 
 
 He turned east to Fifth Avenue, and before 
 many minutes had elapsed was spinning through 
 Central Park. Emerging from the park, he crossed 
 over to Riverside Drive, and, turning north, was 
 soon out of the city, where he could let the car go.
 
 150 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 The cool breeze of the August afternoon acted 
 as a sedative on his mind, and, when he returned 
 some hours later to his apartment, he was once 
 more in his normal condition. 
 
 Yet that day a seed had been planted in the man's 
 soul, which was to cause him hours of mental 
 agony and lead him into strange situations. But 
 this Rudolf did not know. He felt that, whatever 
 might have been the matter with him that day, at 
 least now he was cured.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 THE next two weeks Ruth saw Benjamin Rudolf 
 daily, and, as is the case when two people are 
 united by a common interest, she felt better ac- 
 quainted with him than she would have in months 
 of ordinary friendship. She was certain that he 
 felt a sincere liking for her, and she liked him bet- 
 ter than any man she had ever known, except John. 
 He was unfailingly kind and sympathetic, listen- 
 ing gravely to all her troubles about her part, help- 
 ing her with suggestions, and encouraging her with 
 praise; yet it was not indiscriminate praise. 
 
 The night before he had stopped her in the mid- 
 dle of the lines she was supposed to be speaking 
 to the baron. 
 
 " That will not do, Sylvia." He always addressed 
 her as Sylvia now, and she did not resent it. " You 
 must put more feeling into the words. Here, let 
 me be the baron." 
 
 Without a second's hesitation, he took up the 
 baron's lines which preceded her cue and went 
 through them without a break. It was always a 
 matter of astonishment to Ruth to find how much 
 
 151
 
 152 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 he knew about the play; he seemed to have com- 
 mitted every part of it to memory. 
 
 " Now," he said, " talk to me. Imagine that you 
 are in love with me. Let yourself go ; throw your- 
 self into it. No, no ! " he exclaimed impatiently, 
 seeing her flush. " This is entirely impersonal, 
 a matter of business." 
 
 And she had thrown herself into the part, and 
 had earned a quiet word of commendation from 
 him. 
 
 She was very busy now; there was the costumer 
 to see and the young man who was teaching her the 
 dancing incident to the part; there were her lines 
 to study, and one whole day had been given up to 
 the photographer, who took her picture in all her 
 different costumes and in any variety of poses. Ru- 
 dolf had told her to do this, although she could 
 not understand why. Lory was helping Ruth all 
 she could, but this afternoon she had declared that 
 her pupil had far outstripped her. 
 
 ' You're the best ever, kid," she said enthusias- 
 tically. " If you strike that gait on the stage, there's 
 nothing to it but fame with a big F for yours." 
 
 " I will have to improve a great deal," Ruth an- 
 swered, " before I will be able to face an audience. 
 I am very weak in some of my lines; I can't seem 
 to get the right inflection." 
 
 " Nonsense," retorted Lory. " You don't have
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 153 
 
 to be a Mary Mannering in a musical show. All 
 you've got to do is to look pretty and show your 
 legs." 
 
 "Oh, Lory!" 
 
 Lory laughed delightedly. " I knew I could make 
 you blush, but honest, if you sing well and dance 
 gracefully, and but I won't say it again the pub- 
 lic will be satisfied. That's what they want, and 
 that's what Rudy gives them. That's why he never 
 pulls off a fizzle. You don't catch Rudy trying to 
 elevate the stage. He elevates the skirts of the 
 chorus instead, and has 'em wear black-silk stock- 
 ings, which cuts a bigger figure at the box-office 
 end." 
 
 Ruth was pained. " I don't like to hear you talk 
 that way, Lory. I wish you wouldn't." 
 
 Lory laughed. " All right, kid, but it's true, just 
 the same." 
 
 There was a question Ruth had been meaning 
 for some time to ask Lory. She decided to broach 
 it now. 
 
 " Lory," she asked hesitatingly, " does Mr. Ru- 
 dolf know that I am married? " 
 
 Lory looked up from the book she was read- 
 ing. " What a funny question ! What made you 
 think of that ? " . 
 
 Ruth was embarrassed. " I only thought he 
 ought to know. It doesn't seem quite fair, when
 
 154 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 he's been so kind and everything, " she ended 
 lamely. 
 
 " I don't know whether he does or not," an- 
 swered Lory. " But don't you worry about any- 
 thing's not being fair to Rudy. He's no spring 
 chicken, kid; he won't tear under the wing." 
 
 Ruth said nothing more about it, but she de- 
 cided that she would tell Rudolf at the first oppor- 
 tunity she could, without her disclosure seeming 
 forced. 
 
 Ruth roamed around the room restlessly. She 
 had completed her day's work, for Rudolf had lim- 
 ited her to a certain length of time each day, lest 
 she overtax her strength. Suddenly she seized a 
 sofa cushion and shied it at Lory. 
 
 " You're getting to be a regular old bookworm ! " 
 she cried merrily. " You've been reading all day. 
 Put on your things and let's go for a walk. It's 
 warm and sunny out." 
 
 Lory grumbled at being torn from the yellow- 
 backed novel she was reading, but finally arose, and 
 started to get her hat. Before she reached her 
 room, the bell rang. 
 
 " Let's hide," suggested Ruth. " Maybe it's that 
 old woman who was here last week with those 
 tracts." 
 
 " I'll tell you a better way. If it's anyone we 
 don't want to see, we'll tell 'em we're just going
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 155 
 
 to rehearsal. Hurry up and put your hat on! I'll 
 wait a minute before I open the door." 
 
 Ruth hastened to obey, but before she was ready 
 she heard Lory's pleased exclamation over the vis- 
 itor, and knew that there was no need of the deceit. 
 She went back into the room just in time to see 
 a girl, dressed in a heavy winter suit, stroll into 
 the room, mopping her brow with a soiled hand- 
 kerchief. The girl's face was pinched and drawn, 
 and there were heavy circles under her eyes, yet she 
 carried herself jauntily. 
 
 " Hello, old scouts ! " she cried gayly. " How 
 do you like my costume ? Just got it from Worth's. 
 And, when you have gazed your fill on that, let 
 your eyes wander over my jewels. This ' tarara ' 
 pointing to her bedraggled hat " cost a cool 
 hundred thousand stage money and this rare 
 gem on my lily white finger is worth a king's ran- 
 som. It was presented " 
 
 " For Heaven's sake, Madge," remonstrated 
 Lory, " stop that nonsense, and tell me why you are 
 wearing that winter suit on a day like this ! " 
 
 The girl struck a melodramatic attitude. " Curse 
 ye, Jack Dawson! Ye tore me from me poor old 
 mother's arms, and brought me to the crool city. 
 Look, look, I say, on your work, ere I rend the 
 lying tongue from your dastard throat ! " 
 
 Both of the other girls laughed. Madge turned
 
 156 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 an amazed eye on Ruth, as if she had just seen 
 her for the first time. She advanced and, taking 
 Ruth's hand, dropped to her knee : 
 
 " Welcome to our city, fair lady " 
 
 " Will you cut it out, Madge ? " cried Lory in 
 exasperation. " Some one must have told you you 
 were funny." 
 
 The girl looked aggrieved. " Hast forgot, lit- 
 tle one, how in these two brawny arms I carried 
 you from the burning " 
 
 " Come on, Ruth," said Lory in disgust. " Let's 
 go out and leave her to tell it to the wall-paper." 
 
 Madge rose and dropped into a chair. The mo- 
 ment she, stopped talking, Ruth could see the ter- 
 rible sadness in her face. She divined that the girl's 
 nonsense had been an alternative for tears. 
 
 But, even now, Madge would not give in to her 
 feelings. " Well," she began comically, " I'm all in 
 down and out busted ! Landlady's attached my 
 trunk, and these are the only rags I have to my 
 name. Last Wednesday you know, it rained I 
 started out with this old suit on, thinking I'd save 
 my more radiant robes for sunny weather. That's 
 where I slipped a cog, trying to be economical. 
 I've often noticed that this looking into the future 
 doesn't pay. You dope it out that you're making 
 a clever pass, and the first thing you know Fate 
 gets under your guard just where you didn't ex-
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 157 
 
 pect. Well, to go on with my hard-luck story, when 
 I returned to my humble abode, I found my trunk 
 gone, and me with not a stitch to wear. Maybe 
 you think it's fun to be trotting around in winter 
 duds on a day like this. Whew! Say, Lory, I 
 wouldn't do it for anyone else, but, if you have any 
 grub around this joint that isn't working, I'll help 
 you get rid of it. Just between friends, I've been 
 so busy counting my money the last few days that 
 I haven't found time to eat." The flush that spread 
 over the girl's face told what it cost her to make 
 the request. 
 
 Ruth uttered an exclamation of sympathy. 
 Quick tears sprang to Madge's eyes, but she shook 
 her head savagely, and in a moment was launched 
 on a string of nonsense about the visit she was to 
 make the Astorbilts. 
 
 Lory and Ruth bustled around, and soon had a 
 substantial meal prepared. Madge sat down at the 
 table. It was pitiful to see her bolting down the 
 food, though clearly ashamed of her ravenousness. 
 She would lay down her knife and fork and begin 
 to talk, but the lust for food would grip her, and 
 she would seize them and attack the meal with 
 animal-like ferocity. Ruth hurried from the room, 
 unable to keep the tears back, and Lory, thinking 
 that Madge would rather be left alone, promptly 
 followed.
 
 158 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 " Ruth, that's the pluckiest kid in this burgh. 
 She's had nothing but hard luck ever since she 
 drifted here from the West. She's supposed to be 
 on the stage, but every time she gets a job the show 
 busts up, or something happens, and then she's had 
 all her rehearsing for nothing. She's tried other 
 things, too, but somehow she can't seem to connect. 
 There's nothing to it, she's a Jonah. But you never 
 hear her squeal. She was half starved when she 
 came in here, but you heard the line of talk she 
 handed out." 
 
 "What will she do now?" asked Ruth in deep 
 sympathy. 
 
 " God knows ! I'll ask her to stay here, but she 
 won't; she's too proud. I've tried to make her take 
 a loan from me over and over again, but she won't 
 do that, either. How she's managed to get along 
 this summer without starving gets me. The worst 
 of it is that there's a man down in Wall Street 
 who would give her anything in the world. She's 
 got a conscience, that's what's the matter. I've 
 told her that she is a fool; I guess she knows it 
 herself, but she has made up her mind that she is 
 going to keep straight, and that's all there is to it." 
 
 Ruth was horrified. " But, Lory," she faltered, 
 " you would not want her to " 
 
 "Why not?" demanded Lory fiercely. "She's 
 blamed near starved. Whose fault would it be if
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE. 159 
 
 she went crooked? God, I'd like to see some of 
 these good people in her fix ! " 
 
 " But there must be some other way " 
 
 " Is there ? " cried Lory passionately. " That's 
 what the fools who don't know anything about it 
 are always saying. I tell you, Ruth, Madge isn't 
 the only one who has to choose between starvation 
 and that. And starving's easy to talk about, but, 
 when you come down to it, there are sixty minutes 
 in every hour and twenty-four hours in every day, 
 and you don't die the first day, either. If you did, 
 it wouldn't be so bad." 
 
 Ruth's answer was forestalled by the reappear- 
 ance of Madge. 
 
 " Pretty good feed you hand out in this shack," 
 she remarked coolly. " Now, if you'll give me a 
 dope stick, I'll put my feet on the table and make 
 believe I'm the Duchess of Maryborough." 
 
 Ruth passed over a box of cigarettes. The girl 
 lit one, and inhaled it appreciatively. " First one 
 in two weeks," she said luxuriously. " Say, Lory, 
 whatever became of Nina Royce ? Last time I saw 
 her she was in vaudeville. Some one told me after- 
 wards that she had married a mining man from out 
 West somewhere. Did you ever hear anything 
 about it ? " 
 
 " It seems to me that I did," answered Lory in- 
 terestedly. " I hope it's true. Nina is a nice kid.
 
 i6o THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 I'll never forget the first time I saw her. It was 
 one amateur night at the Murray Hill. Nina had 
 taken it into her head that she could act Shake- 
 speare. She came on, and tried to do that crazy 
 scene from what is the name of the play, anyhow? 
 Well, she acted crazy all right, and the crowd 
 didn't do a thing but guy her. But she was game 
 and stuck, until at last they had to pull her off with 
 the hook. The next time I saw her she was in 
 Sherry's with a bunch of actorines and some gay 
 old sports. She was dressed to kill, and had on 
 about a million sparklers. She'd struck it rich 
 somewhere." 
 
 The two drifted on, talking about the stage, and 
 Ruth sat silent, her heart filled with sadness. She 
 could not understand how they could talk so un- 
 concernedly with this awful thing hanging over 
 Madge. She tried to think of something she could 
 say, something she could do that would help. She 
 could not. 
 
 At last Madge rose. " I'll be jogging along now. 
 Much obliged for the grub to both of you." 
 
 Lory went over to her. " Kid," she said ear- 
 nestly, " stay here." 
 
 The girl's eyes filled. In a moment she was sob- 
 bing on Lory's shoulder. 
 
 " I can't do it, Lory," she said, as soon as she 
 could speak. " I can't sponge on my friends. I've
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 161 
 
 reached my limit. You said I would, and I have. 
 God knows I've tried hard, but something was 
 wrong. I've failed. I won't tell even you what I've 
 had to do this summer to get enough to eat. I've 
 done my best. Maybe it wouldn't be some one's else 
 best, but it was mine. Now I'm through," she 
 added bitterly. " I'll try the other game." 
 
 She straightened up and forced a smile to her 
 face. " Well, old scouts, good-by and good luck. 
 If you ever bump up against it, come to me. 
 There'll always be something for you." 
 
 She nodded cheerfully, and passed out, a pa- 
 thetic little figure going bravely to meet the fate 
 against which she had struggled for so long in vain.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 THE two weeks had been a period of great import 
 in Benjamin Rudolf's life. His contact with Ruth's 
 pure nature had caused a revulsion of feeling in 
 the man's heart. He looked upon his customary 
 pursuits and companions with distaste, and haunts, 
 which for years had been enlivened by his pres- 
 ence, now knew him no more. Nor had the emo- 
 tions incited by the dream died down ; instead, they 
 had grown stronger day by day, until now he was 
 compelled to admit to himself that he was in love 
 with Ruth. 
 
 It was not a pure love there was nothing ideal 
 about it; Rudolf's life up to this time would pre- 
 clude anything of the kind; it was a fleshly, pas- 
 sionate love. Yet it was a factor for good, and, 
 as its influence on the man's character became more 
 and more felt, he became more and more dissatis- 
 fied with the course upon which he had determined. 
 
 The thought of marriage kept intruding in his 
 mind. At first he had put it aside angrily, but it 
 was not to be so easily disposed of, and at last 
 he had come to look upon the idea with something 
 less of abhorrence. The most forceful argument 
 
 162
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 163 
 
 in favor of this course was the fear which grew 
 up in his heart that, should he choose the other 
 path, Ruth would despise him, and now he longed 
 for her love as he had longed for nothing else in 
 all his life. Had he thought that there was a 
 possibility of gaining it without taking upon him- 
 self the bonds of marriage, he would have dis- 
 missed all thoughts of this state from his mind 
 with contempt, but a growing knowledge of Ruth's 
 character made him certain that a liaison would be 
 unthinkable to her. 
 
 He had no doubt that Ruth would marry him, 
 nor that she would come to love him; his experi- 
 ence with women had been such as to make him 
 supremely confident on this subject. Besides, he 
 viewed everything more or less from a money 
 standpoint, and he was rich. This fact in itself 
 was an almost conclusive argument that he would 
 succeed. 
 
 By the end of the two weeks the idea of mar- 
 riage had fought its way up from a tiny seed, over- 
 coming objection after objection, until now it flour- 
 ished defiantly. 
 
 On a clear, cool afternoon when the summer heat 
 had lessened, and the city was breathing freely 
 again in the refreshing breeze from the northwest, 
 he drove his car up to the curb in front of the 
 apartment on Manhattan Avenue, and gave four
 
 164 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 short honks of the horn, a signal previously agreed 
 upon. In a few moments Ruth appeared at the 
 door. She came lightly down the steps and across 
 the sidewalk to the car. 
 
 "And how is Sylvia feeling?" he asked as he 
 helped her into the front seat and took his place 
 beside her. 
 
 " Fine and dandy," she answered, smiling. This 
 was one of Lory's expressions that Ruth had 
 appropriated. 
 
 He looked at her closely. " You do not look 
 quite as well as usual; you look tired," he said 
 anxiously. 
 
 " I am a little tired," she confessed. " I did 
 not sleep well last night." 
 
 As a matter of fact, Ruth had not slept at all, 
 but lay awake thinking of Madge. She could not 
 get the thought of the girl out of her mind, nor 
 could she forget the sadness in her eyes. 
 
 " You are working too hard," he declared. " You 
 must not do it; it is unnecessary. You must take 
 better care of yourself. The first thing you know 
 you will break down." He was plainly worried, and 
 showed it in eyes and voice. 
 
 She was touched by his anxiety for her. " Really, 
 I am not," she answered. " I did not sleep very 
 well last night, that is all." 
 
 " Are you sure ? " he demanded suspiciously.
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 165 
 
 " You are sure that you are not feeling the strain 
 of the work ? " 
 
 " Really and truly. Cross my heart," she replied, 
 laughing. 
 
 They crossed over to Weehawken on the ferry, 
 and were soon rolling over the splendid roads of 
 New Jersey. There was not a cloud in the sky, 
 and a thunderstorm the night before had washed 
 the dust from the foliage and refreshed it into new 
 life, until it renewed its springtime beauty. The 
 goldenrod made pleasing dashes of yellow against 
 the green, and here and there the sumach lent its 
 flash of red. 
 
 Rudolf did not talk much; he was content to 
 enjoy her presence beside him. Never, since he had 
 known her, had he felt the need of her so much. 
 Yes; he would do the right thing he would not 
 risk her disdain he would marry her. 
 
 He was almost on the point of asking her now, 
 yet something held him back. As in the dream, 
 he felt his own unworthiness. Who was he that 
 he should aspire to a pure woman's love, he who 
 had lived his life a reckless libertine? He felt 
 deadly ashamed, and the remembrance of the words 
 with their implication, which he had spoken to 
 Franklin Morris that night at Morini's, brought a 
 quick red to his cheek. 
 
 " Isn't the country beautiful to-day? " she said at
 
 i66 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 last. " It makes one glad that one's alive, only " 
 
 She sighed. 
 
 " Only what ? " he asked. 
 
 " I was just thinking how much sadness there 
 is in the world. I never realized it before I came 
 to New York. Of course people in the country 
 have their troubles and heartaches, but there it is 
 different somehow. Here it is all so pitiless; a 
 human being seems to count for so little, a tiny 
 drop in the ocean. Nobody knows about him, and 
 nobody cares. In the country he would at least 
 have the sympathy of his neighbors, he would be 
 a part of the community, but here " 
 
 He nodded gravely. " The only ones the city 
 has any use for are those out of whom it can get 
 something, and in a way it is logical. The very fact 
 that it is a city shows that it is a center of com- 
 mercial life, and in a city the size of New York 
 commerce is carried on at top pressure. Every 
 man must exert the whole of his energy in doing 
 his part, whatever it is. He has not the time nor 
 the strength to stop and look after the failures. 
 You would not expect an army on the march to 
 wait for the stragglers." 
 
 " But how cruel it is ! " 
 
 " Undoubtedly ; and yet it is merely the spe- 
 cialization of a principle the principle that it is 
 what a man does, and not what he is, which makes
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 167 
 
 him valuable to the community. The world has 
 seen the opposite belief tried, and the results were 
 even worse. In the old days, a man's birth deter- 
 mined his place in society. Whether he was worth- 
 less or the opposite, did not make any difference, 
 he could go neither up nor down. And, before that, 
 physical strength was the quality which marked out 
 a man's position. Our present system, with all 
 its faults, has this to recommend it a man can al- 
 ways go up if he has the determination." 
 
 "But can fie?" she asked earnestly. "Can a 
 man make his own life? " 
 
 " I made mine," he answered. " I came to New 
 York a poor boy, without a cent, without education 
 even. I worked. While other young men I knew 
 were going around seeking pleasure and spending 
 their money, I was saving mine and devoting all 
 my time to building a foundation for future 
 success." 
 
 " Ah, but don't you see ? You had the character 
 to do that. You had the ability. Of course your 
 own efforts helped; I do not deny that. But, if you 
 had not been born with a strong character, your 
 efforts might have gone for nothing." 
 
 " Admitting that to be true, what then ? " 
 
 " I don't know," she answered helplessly. 
 " Sometimes it all seems so wrong. I don't know 
 whether I can explain what I mean, but sometimes
 
 168 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 it seems to me that it is not fair to make anyone's 
 ability to get money the test of everything. Some 
 try hard and cannot " she was thinking of Madge. 
 " There are many people who seem to lack the 
 ability, and others seem to succeed almost without 
 effort on their part. Then, if everybody had the 
 same chance it would be different, but they 
 haven't." 
 
 " You are a socialist," he said, smiling. 
 
 " Maybe I am. I don't know much about so- 
 cialism. But it does seem as if, with all the other 
 things civilization has accomplished, it ought to be 
 able to guarantee to every person born into the 
 world at least a living." 
 
 " It does, if a man is willing to work." 
 
 " Not always. There are a thousand and one 
 things that may prevent a man who is willing and 
 anxious to work from being able to; sickness, in- 
 jury, for instance. And with women " 
 
 " A woman has no business to mix in the indus- 
 trial life at all." 
 
 " How easy that is to say," she returned scorn- 
 fully. " And yet I agree with you in a way. I 
 did not before I came to New York, but I do now. 
 Women ought never to be placed in a position where 
 they have either to obtain money or starve. Even 
 among savages things are managed better than 
 that."
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 169 
 
 " What is your remedy for all this ? " he asked 
 in amusement. " Would you have the government 
 pension all women, and everyone else who is not 
 fitted to make a living? " 
 
 " I don't know," she said sadly. " It is all so 
 terrible. You smile, but it is only because you are 
 so used to the present way that anyone who sees 
 the horror of it seems to you simply foolish. And 
 yet I imagine that, if you had asked one of the 
 Pharaohs of ancient Egypt if it were possible to 
 dispense with slaves, he would have smiled in amuse- 
 ment, and thought you crazy." 
 
 " I beg your pardon for smiling," he said quickly, 
 " but it is impossible to change present conditions. 
 If you had your way, and everyone was guaran- 
 teed a living, nobody would work. Business would 
 be dead, and we would revert to savagery." 
 
 " Just what Pharaoh would have said," she re- 
 torted. " He would not have been able to under- 
 stand that anyone would work without being driven 
 to it by the lash. You cannot imagine anyone's 
 working unless driven to it by the fear of starva- 
 tion." 
 
 " No," he admitted, " I cannot." 
 
 " Yet you forget the power of public opinion. 
 As a matter of fact, money in itself is not desired 
 by anyone. It is the increased respect in the eyes 
 of the world for its possessor that makes it striven
 
 i;o THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 for. Nearly all luxury is indulged in for this same 
 reason. If a man was on a desert island, with no 
 neighbors to envy him, I doubt if he would care 
 whether he lived in a castle or a hovel. Much of 
 the so-called luxury is really distasteful to those 
 indulging in it, yet it is a badge of wealth and must 
 be worn to influence the opinion of friends and of 
 the world in general." 
 
 " Really," he laughed, with more than amused 
 tolerance, " you almost convince me." 
 
 She laughed too. " I am afraid I have been 
 talking a great deal," she said apologetically. 
 
 " I have enjoyed hearing your views," he said 
 earnestly. " But I am just old-fashioned enough 
 to believe that, if a man is good for anything, he 
 can get along somehow." 
 
 " That is what John used to say, but I know 
 now that he was wrong." 
 
 " Who is John? " he asked jealously. 
 
 " My husband. Didn't you know " 
 
 The car swerved suddenly, almost striking a stone 
 at the roadside, and the rest of her sentence was 
 lost in a little exclamation of fright. She glanced 
 up to see that Rudolf was as white as death and 
 gasping to get his breath. 
 
 " What is the matter ? " she cried fearfully. 
 " Are you sick " 
 
 He forced a smile to his face. " I have a little
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 171 
 
 trouble with my heart," he muttered. " I am used 
 to these attacks. It will be over in a moment." 
 
 He had slowed down the car, and produced a 
 silver-topped flask from his pocket. A few swal- 
 lows of the whisky brought the color back into 
 his face, but his hand still shook, and he was plainly 
 unstrung. 
 
 Gradually he recovered himself, and listened to 
 Ruth's talk of her life in Harbury, with an impas- 
 sive face. Only once did he venture a remark. It 
 was after Ruth had told him of John's accident 
 and the apparent hopelessness of his case. 
 
 " You should obtain a divorce," he said. " It 
 is not right that you should be tied to a man like 
 that for life." 
 
 The expression of horror in her eyes warned him 
 that he had made a false step. 
 
 " Oh, no ! " she cried. " I would never think of 
 such a thing." 
 
 It was characteristic of the man that Rudolf did 
 not shorten the drive, although every minute was 
 agony to him. He purposely drove farther than 
 he had intended, and the lights were twinkling in 
 the streets of Manhattan when he set Ruth down 
 at her door. 
 
 " I am worried about you," she said anxiously 
 on parting. " You were warning me to-day against 
 working too hard. I am sure it is you who do that,
 
 172 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 not I. Won't you promise to take a rest? I wish 
 you would. Please ! " She looked up into his eyes, 
 her own shadowed with concern. 
 
 A great bitterness welled up in his heart. How 
 sweet her solicitude would have been under other 
 conditions. Now it was torture to him. 
 
 He made a vague reply, and, entering the car, 
 threw the clutch in with a jerk. The car sprang 
 forward as a horse under the spur. Rudolf drove 
 recklessly to the garage. He wanted to get away 
 from the thoughts which tortured him. Now that 
 he knew he could not marry Ruth, he held the con- 
 viction that it had been his intention from the 
 first. 
 
 As he strode away from the garage, a thought 
 struck him. 
 
 " God ! " he muttered. " The only decent thing 
 I ever wanted to do in my life, and I can't do it ! "
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 THE first rehearsal of " The Parisian Milliner " was 
 a trying ordeal to Ruth. Tessie Darlington had 
 not yet returned from her summer home, and the 
 regular understudy was absent no one but Rudolf 
 knew why so Ruth was called upon to take the 
 part of Sylvia. 
 
 The bare stage and the dark house oppressed her, 
 and the actors and actresses in their street clothes 
 gave the whole affair an effect of childishness and 
 unreality. In costume, with the lights, and the 
 music of the orchestra, " The Parisian Milliner " 
 would doubtless be entertaining, but without the 
 atmosphere created by these embellishments it was 
 hopelessly dull. The remarks, supposedly witty, 
 fell flat, and the lines which were meant to be 
 " spicy " became merely vulgar. The songs alone 
 retained anything of their natural effectiveness, and 
 even they were marred by the general depression. 
 
 Ruth was very nervous at first, and trembled lest 
 the stage manager turn on her the flow of sarcasm 
 which he launched at the other people in the cast, 
 outbursts which, to tell the truth, seemed to affect 
 them very little, if at all. He refrained, and, when 
 
 173
 
 174 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 he did have occasion to address a remark to her, 
 did so in a quiet, respectful manner. Ruth was 
 grateful to him for his consideration, but the grati- 
 tude was misplaced, and should have gone to Ru- 
 dolf, who had given explicit orders concerning this 
 matter. As the rehearsal proceeded, however, she 
 gained courage. She could not help knowing that 
 she was doing well; she intercepted admiring 
 glances, and overheard stray bits of conversation 
 which, though often tinged with jealousy, heart- 
 ened her. 
 
 Indeed, Ruth was a puzzle to the others. They 
 had not even heard of her before, and that a 
 stranger should come among them, and at a re- 
 hearsal give a creditable performance of the leading 
 part, filled them with wonder. Who was she? 
 Where had Rudolf picked her up? Was she to be 
 the star? Where was Tessie Darlington? These 
 were some of the questions they whispered among 
 themselves, questions which no one could answer. 
 
 Rudolf sat in a box and looked on, smiling 
 quietly. He was satisfied; he knew that his intui- 
 tion had been once more justified. Once he caught 
 her eye, and patted his hands together in a panto- 
 mime of approval. She smiled back at him happily. 
 
 Sam Andrews had come to sneer, but remained 
 to worship. " I wonder if Bennie has got second 
 sight," he said to himself. " I bet she will make
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 175 
 
 a better Sylvia than Tessie. She's a cracker jack, all 
 right!" 
 
 Then he began to worry. " I hope Tessie doesn't 
 change her mind and want to come back. We've 
 got her letter locked up in the safe all right enough. 
 Still she might cook up a case somehow -enough 
 of a one to make a lot of trouble." 
 
 He dilated on this fear until it assumed ugly 
 proportions. Then he took it to Rudolf, who 
 merely laughed, and thus doubled Sam's fears, al- 
 ready gigantic. 
 
 The rehearsal was long and tedious. Ruth was 
 very tired when it was over. But she was happy; 
 she felt that she had done well. She was a little 
 disappointed, though, that Rudolf had not congratu- 
 lated her. Toward the end of the rehearsal he had 
 gone out, and had not returned. She wondered 
 why he had not taken the time to speak to her be- 
 fore he went. She said as much to Lory as they 
 were walking home, and added : 
 
 " I hope he was satisfied." 
 
 " Don't worry, kid ; you've got. Tessie Darling- 
 ton tied to a post. If Rudy is wise, he'll give you 
 the part year after this. You're slick in it." 
 
 " Do you mean that you really think there is a 
 chance of that? " 
 
 " Sure I do. I'll bet he will, too. How would 
 you like that ? "
 
 176 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 " Why don't you ask me how I would like to 
 have a million dollars ? " laughed Ruth. 
 
 Lory lost herself in a brown study. " Say, Ruth," 
 she said at last, " did you notice that kid on the 
 end of the chorus the little one in a brown dress? " 
 
 " The little thin one? Yes. What about her? " 
 
 " Well, say, just speak to her once in a while, 
 will you? She's up against hard luck. I was talk- 
 ing to her, and, honest, I don't believe she's had 
 enough to eat for a month. She'll appreciate it 
 if you talk to her a little; she's sort of down in the 
 mouth. Her name's Mamie Roberts." 
 
 " Why, of course I will. I'll look for her to- 
 morrow. I'm glad you told me about her. I no- 
 ticed that she looked as if she was feeling blue," 
 Ruth answered. Then she looked up slyly at Lory. 
 " How much did you lend her? " she asked. 
 
 Lory blushed. " Why, I offered her some money, 
 but she didn't want to take it. She said she could 
 get along all right till the show began. It's a shame 
 that they don't pay a girl while she's rehearsing. I 
 
 think it's " Lory was working herself into a 
 
 state of righteous indignation. 
 
 " I know," interrupted Ruth, " but you didn't 
 answer my question." She loved to catch Lory in 
 some of her charities, and watch her squirm under 
 the exposure. 
 
 " Well, I loaned her ten dollars, if you've got to
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 177 
 
 know, but she will pay it back when she gets her 
 salary. I had to give her something, didn't I ? " she 
 demanded belligerently. " I couldn't see the poor 
 kid starve, could I ? " 
 
 " No, of course you couldn't, you dear old angel. 
 If it had been your last ten dollars, you would have 
 been unable to resist the temptation. But what sur- 
 prises me is that you have escaped becoming a Sis- 
 ter of Charity." 
 
 Lory grimaced. " I'd look nice in the duds they 
 wear, wouldn't I ? " 
 
 Rudolf and Jack came in together after dinner. 
 
 Ruth could not wait. "Did I do well?" she 
 asked Rudolf almost before he was inside the door. 
 
 " Indeed you did," he answered gravely ; " so 
 well, in fact, that you have enabled me to come 
 to a decision; you will play the part of Sylvia this 
 coming season." 
 
 " Is this a joke, Rudy? " demanded Jack sharply. 
 
 " Rudy ! " exclaimed Lory breathlessly. 
 
 Ruth stood speechless. 
 
 " No," he answered, smiling, " I am not joking. 
 Tessie Darlington has asked to be released from 
 her contract. She intends to commit matrimony 
 again this is her fourth venture, I believe and 
 this time she wishes to retire from the stage. From 
 the first moment I met Miss Lawson I realized that
 
 178 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 she would make a charming Sylvia, and had it in 
 mind that, after a year or two of training, we would 
 create a similar part for her. Tessie's ambition 
 again to become a helpmate forced my hand. Miss 
 Lawson's ability, however, is unquestioned, and I 
 do not regret the change. In fact, I believe that 
 she will make the play a much greater success than 
 Tessie could." 
 
 Ruth could hardly believe her ears. She sat down 
 and tried to comprehend her good fortune. It had 
 flashed upon her so suddenly as to leave her dazed. 
 She answered the congratulations of the others as 
 in a dream. 
 
 " Just think of it, kid," cried Lory excitedly, 
 " you will have your name stuck up on all the bill- 
 boards, and your picture will be a blot on the land- 
 scape wherever we poor ordinary mortals look. 
 When will you have the bills out, Rudy? " 
 
 " They are all ready," he answered. " To-night, 
 even now, the billposters are at work. I only 
 waited for the rehearsal to make sure." 
 
 " You believed in me as much as that ? " asked 
 Ruth in a tone of wonder. 
 
 " I knew you could do it," he replied. 
 
 " Gad ! " said Jack to Lory in a low tone, 
 " Rudy is playing the game with high stakes." 
 
 She nodded. " What do you think about it now? 
 Weren't we right not to butt in ? "
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 179 
 
 "If it were anyone but Ruth, I should say we 
 were. As it is " He shook his head doubt- 
 fully. 
 
 Lory uttered an exclamation of impatience. 
 " But think what it means everything ! " 
 
 " Oh, well I don't see how we could have done 
 any differently. Let's not think about it." 
 
 " There's no use," she agreed; " it's past us now, 
 anyway." 
 
 The conversation became general for awhile, the 
 talk running on plays and players, on successes old 
 and new, on stars who shone for a brief time on 
 Broadway, and then faded away into oblivion, and 
 of others who were still enjoying the public's 
 favor. 
 
 Ruth listened interestedly to the talk of the life 
 which was now to be hers, but through the happi- 
 ness with which her heart was filled, ran a vein 
 of sorrow; she wished that John could be here to 
 enjoy her triumph ; it seemed almost a sin to be so 
 happy when he was in such a pitiable condition. 
 Then, with the opportunity had come responsibility : 
 she feared that she might not be able to measure 
 up to Rudolf's expectations. When she had to 
 face an audience she might not do so well as she 
 had at rehearsal. 
 
 Finally Lory rose, and went to the piano. " An 
 imitation of Miss Ruth Lawson," she announced
 
 i8o THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 in the manner of the vaudeville stage, " in her suc- 
 cess, ' The Parisian Milliner ' ! " 
 
 She struck a few chords, and swung into the 
 Violet song, mimicking Ruth to the life, adding 
 just enough burlesque to make the thing funny. 
 
 In the laughter that followed, Rudolf turned to 
 Ruth. 
 
 :< You see, Sylvia, what it is to be famous. You 
 are being imitated already. By the way, you must 
 get up early to-morrow morning and look out of 
 the window. There is a bill-board across the street. 
 I told them to be sure to get to it to-night." 
 
 " I'll be up at daylight," she replied, laughing. 
 " Do you hear that, Lory ? To-morrow morning 
 I am to see my name in print for the first time. I 
 feel very important. If there isn't a crowd col- 
 lected gazing up at it reverently, I shall be disap- 
 pointed." 
 
 " If you're so keen about the crowd," said Jack, 
 " I'll collect one myself and we'll all stand around 
 in attitudes of veneration." 
 
 " What at daylight you? " 
 
 "That's so," he replied, laughing. "I didn't 
 think about that clause in the contract. All bets are 
 off. I like you, Ruth, but not enough to get out of 
 bed at such an unseemly hour. However, Rudy 
 can take my place." 
 
 " I beg to be excused," said Rudolf, " but I'll tell
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 181 
 
 you what I will do. I'll telephone for my car now, 
 and we'll go for a drive. It's moonlight, you know. 
 If Sylvia wants to, we'll manage to pass by some 
 of the billboards which have already been adorned. 
 There's a squad of men working up on One Hun- 
 dred and Twenty-fifth Street." 
 
 " I suppose it is awfully silly of me," said Ruth, 
 " but I really have a wild desire to see how my name 
 looks." 
 
 " Nothing silly about that," said Lory. " Why, 
 the first time I saw my name on a programme, I was 
 so crazy that I got a lot of them, and hung them up 
 on the wall, where I could read 'em first thing every 
 morning." 
 
 " I never did quite that," remarked Rudolf, " but 
 
 the first time ' Rudolf and Andrews present ' 
 
 appeared on a board, I followed the billposters 
 around, under pretense of seeing that the job was 
 done correctly, just to exult in my importance. The 
 joke of it was, that Sam was doing the same thing, 
 giving the same excuse that I was. It wasn't until 
 about five years later that we admitted to each 
 other the truth." 
 
 " You have a big undertaking on your hands, 
 Rudolf," said Jack, when the girls had left the room 
 to prepare for the ride. " Do you think you can 
 make the public stand for an unknown actress ? " 
 
 " I think so," replied the other easily.
 
 182 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 " Well, I hope she'll make a hit. She's a mighty 
 fine little girl, Rudy. I'd hate to see her disap- 
 pointed. I think," he went on deliberately, " that 
 any man who didn't run straight with a little inno- 
 cent thing like she is, ought to be shot." He looked 
 narrowly at the other. 
 
 " I think so, too," answered Rudolf in a low 
 tone. 
 
 They were interrupted by the reappearance of the 
 girls. Ten minutes later the car drew up in front 
 of the door, and they all clambered in as merry as 
 a group of children. 
 
 They drove up Manhattan Avenue, and turned 
 into One Hundred and Twenty-fifth Street, and 
 there, near the corner, under an electric light, was 
 the vanguard of fame. 
 
 At the sight of the big, white letters on the blue 
 background, Ruth's heart gave a leap. She fastened 
 her eyes on the poster, and, as the car went slowly 
 by, the letters seemed to burn themselves into her 
 brain. 
 
 In one second, she seemed to see all that they 
 represented. She seemed to see her future stretch- 
 ing out pleasantly before her. There would be 
 wealth and fame and luxury and happiness. And 
 then a new thought leaped into her mind she would 
 have the best surgical attention for John. Some- 
 where in the world there must be a surgeon who
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 183 
 
 could perform an operation and cure him. She spoke 
 to Rudolf about it. 
 
 " Do you think it might be done ? " she asked. 
 
 He hesitated a moment before replying. " Yes," 
 he said at last in a strained voice. " I think it might 
 be done." 
 
 She was very quiet during the rest of the drive, 
 thinking of this new possibility.
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 RUTH was hurrying up Broadway, her mind filled 
 with turmoil. She had just left Rudolf's office, 
 where she had made a terrible discovery. During 
 her conversation with Rudolf, Jack Marshall had 
 come in, and in the subsequent talk between the 
 two men it developed that Jack Marshall was a 
 married man. Just how this fact had been dis- 
 closed, Ruth could not remember; only two things 
 stood out clearly in her mind: Jack was married, 
 and she must tell Lory. Ruth had escaped from 
 the office without even waiting to excuse herself. 
 Now she was trying to decide what to do how to 
 tell Lory. She shrank from inflicting this blow on 
 her friend, yet she realized that she must. 
 
 She turned the corner of Forty-second Street to- 
 ward the elevated, and her steps became slower. 
 
 " How can I ever tell her? " she moaned. " Poor 
 Lory, poor, poor Lory." 
 
 Then a sudden anger against Jack swept over 
 her. How could a man be so base as to win a girl's 
 love when he had not the right to marry her ? Won- 
 der filled her mind that a man like Jack could do 
 such a thing. True, she had thought him a little 
 
 184
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 185 
 
 too easy-going, but that he would descend to down- 
 right villainy was beyond her comprehension. It 
 seemed incredible. 
 
 The worst of it was that Ruth was sure that Lory 
 loved him devotedly. Lory never talked much about 
 her love, but she showed it in a hundred different 
 ways her deference to his wishes, her anxiety for 
 his comfort, and her eagerness to please him in her 
 dress. And, Ruth had always thought, Jack re- 
 turned the love. He was at the house as much as 
 he could be, and seemed happy in her company. 
 It seemed impossible that he had been deceiving her 
 all the time. 
 
 Ruth mounted the steps to the station wearily. 
 " Poor Lory ! " she kept saying over and over to 
 herself. " Poor, poor Lory ! " 
 
 As the train swept her rapidly uptown, her cour- 
 age ebbed away. How could she tell Lory? How 
 could she bear to see the happiness die out of her 
 friend's face, to be replaced by utter misery? For 
 an instant she was tempted not to tell her. Maybe 
 it would be better to let Jack know that she had 
 discovered his secret, and force him to break with 
 Lory gradually, but in the moment of its concep- 
 tion she knew that the plan was weak, that it would 
 be no kindness to Lory to have the pain long drawn 
 out. She must tell her at once; it was her duty. 
 
 Yet, as Ruth descended to the street after leav-
 
 i86 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 ing the train, another attack of cowardice made her 
 turn west toward Riverside Drive. She walked 
 irresolutely for several blocks before she could force 
 herself to turn and go toward the apartment. 
 
 Lory had developed an infrequent longing for 
 cleanliness that morning, and when Ruth reached 
 home she found her engaged in vigorously scrub- 
 bing the kitchen floor. Lory glanced up and, at the 
 sight of Ruth's drawn face, sprang to her feet. 
 
 " What is it? " she cried. " Rudy hasn't " 
 
 "No, no!" faltered Ruth. " It's it's about 
 Jack." 
 
 "Jack! Is he hurt?" 
 
 " No," answered Ruth, striving to gather her 
 courage together. " Oh, Lory dear ! how can I tell 
 you ? You poor, poor child ! " 
 
 Lory stared at her. " Well ? " she said impa- 
 tiently. 
 
 Ruth went over and put her arm around the other. 
 " Try to bear it bravely, dear heart. Lory, he's 
 married ! " 
 
 A moment passed, and Ruth strained the other 
 girl to her breast, murmuring sympathetic, endear- 
 ing phrases. 
 
 Suddenly Lory burst into wild, hysterical laugh- 
 ter that grated on Ruth's ears like the clash of metal. 
 She endeavored to quiet her, but Lory pushed her 
 aside, and darted into her room, locking herself
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 187 
 
 in. In vain Ruth knocked on the door, and called 
 to her friend ; Lory would not let her in. 
 
 Ruth turned drearily to the window, and stood 
 staring out. The day which she had thought so 
 perfect that morning now seemed dark and gloomy ; 
 the very people passing in the street below moved 
 as if oppressed with grief. She reproached herself 
 for not having broken the news to Lory in a more 
 gentle way. 
 
 " I should have led up to it more gradually," she 
 told herself. 
 
 Ruth felt her friend's grief as keenly as if it 
 had been her own. She suffered intensely. It 
 seemed as if this terrible thing had struck into her 
 very heart. She sank into a chair and wondered 
 what she had better do now. With Lory, desperate 
 and stricken, locked in her room there might be 
 a tragedy. She sprang up and went to the 'phone. 
 She would telephone Rudolf. Maybe he could help 
 her. Then the thought struck her that Rudolf had 
 known that Jack was married must have known it, 
 and had kept silent, had pretended to be a friend of 
 Lory's, and yet had let her remain in ignorance. 
 Ruth was staggered to think of such treachery. She 
 turned away from the 'phone, and looked uncer- 
 tainly around the room, trying to decide on some 
 course to pursue. 
 
 At that moment Lory entered. She had on her
 
 1 88 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 hat and gloves. A sudden fear that she was going 
 to find Jack would perhaps do something rash, 
 gripped Ruth. An exclamation of protest sprang 
 to her lips, but Lory began to speak. 
 
 " You must excuse me, Ruth, for laughing," she 
 said in a low tone, " but, if you could have seen 
 your face ! " Her lips twitched, but she controlled 
 herself with an effort and went on: 
 
 " You see, dear, I knew that Jack was married 
 I have always known it." 
 
 Ruth could find no words. 
 
 " You have made a mistake about our relations, 
 Jack's and mine. At times I have thought that you 
 had guessed. At other times I thought you had 
 not, and knew that I ought to tell you. It has not 
 been a fair deal to keep you in ignorance. Yet I 
 did it with the best of intentions. But now it is 
 your right to know. Ruth, I am Jack's mistress." 
 
 There was silence in the room. The clock on 
 the mantel ticked loudly, its puny noise sounding like 
 the blows of a hammer in the tense stillness. Ruth's 
 mind was trying to comprehend Lory's words, try- 
 ing to adjust itself to the awful disclosure. That 
 this good, sweet girl, Lory, who was so kind to 
 everybody, who had been so kind to her, should not 
 be a good woman, no, it could not be, it was not 
 to be believed! 
 
 " I am not ashamed of it," went on Lory with
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 189 
 
 a trace of defiance in her voice. " It began when 
 I was sixteen years old, not with Jack, with another 
 man. I did not choose such a life, I despise men. 
 If I had been rich, I would not have even married. 
 I tried to make a living, and failed. I worked 
 in a department store for three dollars and a half 
 a week as a cash girl. You know how far that goes 
 in New York. Then I tried for the stage. I met 
 with promises, and nothing else. I rehearsed for 
 weeks without pay, only to find that at the end 
 I was thrown out. At last I knew why; I had no 
 pull. There was only one way for me to get a 
 pull, and I took it. I am not saying that every 
 girl who goes on the stage has to do what I did. 
 I don't know. I only know that in my case it was 
 that way or none at all, so I gave in. It wasn't 
 easy give me credit for that, Ruth I nearly cried 
 my eyes out, but I got used to it. The man was 
 good to me, and gave me everything I wanted, and 
 helped me to get a good position on the stage. 
 After that I might have broken away and kept 
 straight, I suppose, but I'd gotten used to comforts. 
 Besides, I had a bad name. It isn't easy for a 
 woman to reform, Ruth." 
 
 She paused a moment and, as Ruth did not speak, 
 went on : 
 
 " I met Jack about a year ago. We like each 
 other. I do everything to please him, and he is
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 good to me. We do not love each other as you 
 understand love but we are happy when we are 
 together. His wife does not love him. She even 
 knows about this not who the woman is, but that 
 there is somebody. She does not care. She mar- 
 ried him for money, and, as long as he gives her all 
 she wants, she is satisfied. She did not love him even 
 before they were married ; she was in love with an- 
 other man, but because Jack was rich she married 
 him." Lory laughed hardly. " I really can't see 
 much difference between us, only that she sold her- 
 self to him, and then cheated him. And she had no 
 excuse, for she was rich already, while I but I 
 am not trying to make myself out good, because 
 I am not. I only wanted you to know just how 
 it happened that I got into this sort of thing. 
 
 " Now, kid," she continued kindly, " I have 
 told you everything. I am going out for a walk 
 now, and when I come back you can tell me what 
 you want to do. I would like this to make no 
 difference between us, but maybe you cannot feel 
 that way about it. If you want to stay here, I will 
 be very glad more than I can tell you but, if you 
 feel that you can't, why, there will be no hard feel- 
 ings, only" there was a trace of wistfulness in her 
 voice " don't think any worse of me than you can 
 help." Before Ruth could speak she was gone. 
 
 Ruth sat with her hands in her lap, staring at
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 191 
 
 the carpet. She was face to face with the shadow 
 that hung like a pall over this horrible city. She 
 had seen it from afar when she had been seeking 
 work that first month in New York; it drew nearer 
 when she heard of it from Madge's lips; and now 
 Lory had brought it to her very door. Lory had 
 confessed that she was not a good woman, that 
 she was one of the class which Ruth had been 
 taught to look upon as outcasts, to think of with 
 contempt and abhorrence. Yet she could not think 
 of Lory thus; she could not despise her. Why was 
 it? Was she herself lacking in moral perception; 
 was she, too, really bad at heart, or were all those 
 other people wrong, who had declared that this one 
 sin, no matter how caused, should be the line of de- 
 marcation between a good woman and a bad, be- 
 tween a woman worthy of the respect and the 
 reverence which womanhood inspires and a woman 
 who is lower than the worst male criminal? 
 
 She sighed helplessly; she could not reason it 
 out, but her love for Lory cried out to her that 
 it was not Lory who was to blame, but the condi- 
 tions that had forced her into such a life against 
 her will. Lory had been sorely tempted, and had 
 yielded; the temptation had been too strong. It 
 might not have conquered a stronger character 
 Ruth could not know whether it would have or 
 not but Lory had probably struggled against it
 
 192 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 with all the force of her nature, and the wisdom 
 of her sixteen years, and yet she had succumbed. 
 
 The story which Lory had told Ruth so calmly 
 was one which should have brought tears to the 
 eyes of both the victim and the hearer, yet it had 
 not. Ruth vaguely wondered why it had not. Was 
 it because it was so commonplace? Or was the 
 whole world, herself and Lory included, so utterly 
 hypocritical as to hold up its hands in horror only 
 when it suited it to? In this connection, she re- 
 membered a song she had heard sung at the theater 
 a few nights before. 
 
 The comedian had hinted, in words which the 
 most unsophisticated could not fail to understand, 
 at an infraction of the seventh commandment; and 
 the audience had roared with laughter, and had de- 
 manded an encore. Was it funny or was it vile? 
 Were the audience right in being amused, or should 
 they have left the house in a body? If they were 
 ready to punish so severely a woman who broke 
 the same commandment, then, Ruth decided, they 
 should not have laughed. 
 
 From thinking of Lory, Ruth passed on to 
 Madge, then to those thousands of other women 
 who, like them, had been driven into such a mode 
 of living by conditions over which they had little 
 or no control, and, having entered, could not get 
 out again. Of course they could, if certain other
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 193 
 
 conditions arrayed themselves on their side, but 
 the fact remained that the number of women who 
 did reform was very small. Ruth had once seen 
 a rat in a trap, and a group of men and boys were 
 poking sticks through the wires to torture it. She 
 had remonstrated with them, and the man who was 
 holding the trap defended their action by saying, 
 " Serves the varmint right for bein' such a fool as 
 to get in there." Was not this the attitude of the 
 world toward fallen women? Did it not, by its 
 whole social and commercial system, set a trap for 
 them, and then, once they had entered, consider 
 that nothing could be too bad for them, no scorn 
 too bitter, no hate too venomous? 
 
 An hour passed. Ruth sat without moving, or 
 lifting her eyes from the floor, and at the end of 
 that time she decided. She would not judge. She 
 would not condemn. She would only pity and love. 
 Yes, that was it; that was what Lory was deserv- 
 ing of, what Madge and all those others needed, 
 the two things which they never received, the only 
 things which could help them, could make them 
 better pity and love.
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 THE second week in September was ushered in by 
 a heavy rainstorm, which held the city in its down- 
 pour for three days. The leaden skies were filled 
 with clouds, fast scurrying from the northeast, and 
 the raw, chilly wind struck into the marrow. Bitter 
 invectives against the weather were heard on every 
 side. Yet this condition had one advantage; it 
 opened a topic of conversation on which everyone 
 could agree; business, political, religious antagonists 
 united harmoniously in cursing the weather. 
 
 Ruth was happy; she was tasting the first fruits 
 of success, and they were sweet. Every time she 
 saw her name on a billboard, or came across one 
 of many press notices that Rudolf was constantly 
 inserting, her heart thrilled with an exultant joy. 
 At first, she was troubled because the articles about 
 her were not true, but she was reassured by Ru- 
 dolf's argument that no one was deceived by them, 
 but only interested, and that it was a form of ad- 
 vertising indulged in by practically all of the pro- 
 fession. So she came to laugh heartily when, one 
 Sunday, the entire front page of the colored sup- 
 plement of a certain yellow journal was devoted 
 
 194
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 195 
 
 to a story of her life, of which not one item was 
 true. 
 
 " The Parisian Milliner " was rapidly rounding 
 into shape. Out of the chaos of the first rehearsal 
 had come order. Ruth's work had constantly im- 
 proved until Rudolf looked forward to the opening 
 night, now but a day off, with certainty. Tessie 
 Darlington had gone light-heartedly to the altar, 
 not, however, without some jealousy of her suc- 
 cessor. Ruth was working very hard, yet there 
 were many diversions, and these she now, in her 
 light-hearted state, thoroughly enjoyed. There were 
 dinners at Sherry's or Morini's, night automobile 
 rides, when she and Lory, Rudolf and Jack made 
 trips out into the country, returning sometimes at 
 daybreak. There were excursions to Sheepshead 
 Bay or Belmont Park to watch the races. And 
 once they had all gone to Coney Island, and ridden 
 on everything, tried everything, with the enthusi- 
 asm of a group of children. 
 
 Ruth was now living at one of the newer and 
 most expensive hotels in Manhattan. Rudolf had 
 insisted that this was a form of advertising that 
 paid well, and he also insisted on her supplying 
 herself liberally with clothes, for which he paid, 
 and charged up also to advertising. Ruth had in- 
 sisted that all this expense should be later deducted 
 from her salary. He had protested, but she was
 
 196 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 firm, and he had to acquiesce. About this time, he 
 bought a new car, a limousine, and placed it, in 
 charge of a chauffeur, at her disposal. It was all 
 like a dream, a beautiful fairy story. She was 
 showered with all the luxuries, the delights of life, 
 and as yet had done nothing to merit them. 
 
 The news from Harbury was the same. John was 
 no better and no worse. Ruth had thought that in 
 some of his mother's letters she detected an under- 
 tone of worry, and had written asking if she were 
 in need of money. This was the one thing which 
 Ruth did not have. Her salary would not begin 
 until the play opened, and she had steadfastly re- 
 fused Rudolf's offers of loans under the form of 
 an advance. She often went for days without a 
 dollar in her purse, but, as everything was paid for, 
 she had little need of money. John's mother had 
 written back, saying that she had enough to last 
 until Ruth's salary began, and now that time was 
 almost at hand. Ruth had planned to have John 
 and his mother move back into the old house, and 
 much of her time was given up to devising schemes 
 for their comfort. She had had one bitter disap- 
 pointment. She had met a surgeon who bore an 
 international reputation, and, in the course of a 
 conversation with him, had told him about John's 
 case. He had given her no hope that an operation 
 would be successful. For some days after this had
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 197 
 
 depressed her, but, as she had really not given her- 
 self up greatly to hope, the disappointment was less 
 than it might have been, and her busy days left 
 little time for useless regret. 
 
 In all this time, Ruth was constantly meeting 
 people who entertained an extremely lenient view 
 of life, and who lived by a lax code of morals. 
 Lory's disclosure of her relations with Jack had 
 opened Ruth's eyes, and she saw and understood 
 far more than she would have before. If she had 
 ever been the least bit inclined toward intolerance, 
 at any rate she was not now, but, although she 
 looked upon the sins of others with pity rather 
 than scorn, she still held for herself the same rigid 
 moral code which she had held in Harbury. 
 
 From all this observation of life, she had come 
 to realize that Rudolf's attitude toward her was ex- 
 ceptional. Never had he said one word to her 
 which John might not have heard with complacency 
 of mind. And a feeling akin to love grew up in 
 her heart for him. There was nothing of passion 
 in this love; it was rather the affection a sister 
 would feel for an older brother, but under its 
 sway she adopted an attitude of affection toward 
 the man, little realizing what torture it constantly 
 was to him. 
 
 Benjamin Rudolf was harried by conflicting emo- 
 tions. His discovery that Ruth was married had
 
 198 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 awakened all the evil in the man. The love which 
 had been a factor for good now became a factor 
 for bad, and yet the better part of his nature, which 
 had been aroused by the dream and by Ruth's in- 
 fluence, was combating the evil sturdily. He was 
 in a state of vacillation; one day he would decide 
 to carry out his original intention, the next he was 
 equally determined to play the honorable part. 
 Even the hours, the minutes, the seconds would 
 reverse his decision. Sometimes a glance from her 
 eyes, a chance touch of her hand would drive him 
 into a frenzy of passion, and then, at some sweet 
 seriousness of hers, his passion would die out to 
 ashes, leaving him sick and ashamed. The strain 
 was telling on him; he was thinner, and his face 
 had, at times, a haggard look. Ruth laid the 
 change to the work incidental to whipping the play 
 into shape, and knew nothing of the struggle going 
 on in the man's soul. 
 
 As she came off the stage on Tuesday afternoon 
 the play was to open the next night she found 
 Rudolf waiting for her. 
 
 " Only one day more," he said cheerfully, " and 
 then you will dazzle the public." 
 
 A sudden mistrust of herself swept over her. 
 "What if I should fail! " she cried, turning white. 
 
 " You will not fail," he answered confidently. 
 
 " But it will be hard to live up to the reputation
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 199 
 
 you have given me," she protested. " If the pub- 
 lic is disappointed " 
 
 " In this case, the public will not be disappointed. 
 You are all that I have claimed for you, and more. 
 But, even if you were not, the public would think 
 you were. There is not one in a thousand of an 
 audience who has an opinion of his own; he 
 comes to the theater prejudiced either for or against 
 an actor. It makes no difference whether the 
 actor is good or bad, the result is the same. I could 
 tell you of dozens of cases where stars have been 
 made simply by bluff, that is, advertising, and 
 have continued to live on their reputations for years. 
 But in your case we do not need to bluff. I have 
 told the public that you are the daintiest comedienne 
 on the stage, and you are. I have said that your 
 voice is far beyond the average heard in light opera, 
 and that you are beautiful. It is all true." 
 
 His encouragement restored her self-belief. 
 
 She laughed. " Rudy," she cried she had 
 gradually dropped into the habit of calling him by 
 the nickname which all his friends used " I fear 
 you are becoming a flatterer." 
 
 He smiled. " And flattery, I believe, is labeled 
 a sin. Wasn't it Dante who pictured a special 
 section in the undesirable portion of the next world 
 reserved for those who pursue that vice ? So I sup- 
 pose you are denouncing me as a sinner."
 
 200 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 " Precisely. I can see a place in that special sec- 
 tion yawning for Benjamin Rudolf. But do you 
 really think I will do all right? " wistfully. 
 
 " I refuse to answer. You forfeited your chance 
 of hearing any further praise from my lips when 
 you maligned me in such a cruel fashion." 
 
 " You score ! " she laughed. " And now what 
 are you going to do about Mamie Roberts? Are 
 you going to give her a song in the second act ? " 
 
 " The second act has enough songs now." 
 
 " Please do, Rudy. She has worked so hard, and 
 she has a good voice." 
 
 "If you insist, I suppose I will have to," he 
 grumbled. 
 
 " Thank you," she smiled. " And now about the 
 other matter the rocking-chairs ? " 
 
 " I have already made arrangements for them. 
 It was a good suggestion." 
 
 " I think so." 
 
 " There is no doubt about your being a full- 
 fledged actress; you have begun to bulldoze your 
 manager. Mamie Roberts ought to be thankful, 
 for I am letting her sing only because I have to." 
 
 "Where is your boasted intuition?" she rallied. 
 " Now I have enough to know that she will make 
 a hit, especially if you give her that ingenue song, 
 which I like. Why don't you let her sing that 
 one?"
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 201 
 
 " Oh ! go ahead," he answered in pretended an- 
 noyance; "suit yourself. Upset everything, and 
 spoil the whole play. Don't mind me, I'm only the 
 manager, you know." 
 
 She laughed merrily. " What a bear you could 
 be if you tried. You have the makings of an ideal 
 tyrant, or a pirate yes, that is it; when you frown, 
 you look just like a pirate." 
 
 " If I were a pirate," he answered, " I think I 
 should be tempted to steal you and carry you off 
 to a desert island." 
 
 "You on a desert island?" she jeered. "Re- 
 member, there would be no Broadway, no clubs, no 
 champagne. Rudy, I fear that you would not be 
 happy." 
 
 " I would with you." His tone was serious. 
 
 She looked up at him quickly, and was startled 
 by the expression in his eyes. But he instantly 
 looked away, and remarked lightly : 
 
 " However, I guess I'll stay in New York for a 
 while longer." 
 
 The conversation turned on the play, and Ruth 
 forgot all about the incident. 
 
 After Rudolf had left Ruth at her hotel, he 
 walked back to his office, his head sunk on his 
 breast. 
 
 " I nearly did it that time," he muttered.
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 THE orchestra was playing the overture. 
 
 The crowded house breathed with an air of ex- 
 pectancy. For weeks Sylvia, the daintiest, most be- 
 witching Sylvia, had smiled down at them from the 
 billboards, or laughed at them from the cards in 
 the subway or on the elevated. Over in New Jer- 
 sey, commuters had formed the habit of looking up 
 from their papers to catch a glimpse of her on the 
 signs along the meadows, and promise themselves 
 that, when the play opened, they would go to see 
 her in the life. 
 
 As Rudolf had predicted, the public was over- 
 whelmed with curiosity. The seats for the entire 
 first week had been sold out ten days before the 
 opening. The whole city knew of Ruth Lawson. 
 An actor in vaudeville could count on always win- 
 ning a round of applause by a casual mention of her 
 name, for a New York audience likes to hear an 
 allusion to some person about whom they know; it 
 gives them a sense of superiority. They say to 
 themselves with slangy complacence, " I'm in on 
 that one," and look at their neighbors to see if they 
 are equal in knowledge. 
 
 202
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 203 
 
 Behind the scenes all was tension. The last re- 
 hearsal had gone badly. The stage manager was 
 hoarse from voicing his disgust. The principals 
 had acted like sticks; the chorus had danced like 
 wooden dummies. Sam Andrews had already de- 
 cided that the play would be a failure, and was 
 planning how to recoup the loss. His face wore 
 an expression of deepest melancholy, and, when Ru- 
 dolf rallied him about it, he sank to even greater 
 depths of sorrow and made predictions with the 
 enthusiasm of a Cassandra. Rudolf alone was not 
 worried. He had seen so many first nights, and 
 it was always the same story. He knew that the 
 poor rehearsal was due to the fact that the com- 
 pany was tired out, but he also knew that, on the 
 rise of the curtain, it would be electrified into new 
 life. He believed in the play, he believed in the 
 company which he had selected, and he had an abid- 
 ing faith in his good luck. He had never yet put 
 on a failure, and he was not losing his grip not 
 yet. 
 
 Ruth stood alone in the wings; Rudolf had left 
 her for a moment to give a few final directions. 
 She was twining her fingers nervously together. 
 The time had come. For weeks she had been look- 
 ing forward to this moment, and wondering how 
 she would feel. Now that it had come, she could 
 hardly realize it. Everything seemed unreal. She
 
 204 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 saw the other people in the cast hurrying to and 
 fro, and the stage-hands giving the last touches to 
 the scenery, as if they and she were part of a 
 dream. The property man, hurrying by, spoke to 
 her, and wished her luck. She nodded absently. 
 Then suddenly it came to her with the force of a 
 blow. In a moment the curtain would go up on 
 a scene in a little millinery shop. The chorus would 
 sing a song, and dance. Then they would sit down 
 in rocking-chairs the rocking-chairs which she had 
 suggested and rock gently back and forth in time 
 to a lilting measure which the orchestra would be 
 playing softly. And then she gasped then Sylvia 
 would enter carrying a lavender hat-box tied with 
 a big bow of white ribbon. She would be softly 
 humming to herself the air which the orchestra was 
 playing. Advancing to the footlights, she would 
 sing. What if her voice should break! What if 
 she should forget the words! She tried to think 
 of them now, but could not. The perspiration 
 broke out upon her brow. If she could only run 
 away from it all! How foolish she had been to 
 think that she could stand up and sing before all 
 those people! Then the voice of Rudolf, in con- 
 ference with the stage manager, reached her ears. 
 He was talking calmly. The fact reassured her. 
 Rudolf believed that she would do all right, and 
 he ought to know. Gradually her heart stopped
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 205 
 
 its thumping, and she began to feel more confident. 
 
 Rudolf finished his conversation and came over 
 to her. 
 
 " Well, Sylvia? " he said lightly. 
 
 " I'm afraid I'm awfully nervous. Oh, Rudy ! 
 what if I should fail?" 
 
 It was the same old cry, the longing for encour- 
 agement. She had said it a hundred times, and this 
 time his answer was as always : 
 
 " You will not fail." 
 
 She smiled up at him. " You are very good. I 
 must tire you with my foolishness." 
 
 " Nothing you do ever tires me, Sylvia, and, if 
 you should go out there " he waved his hand to- 
 ward the stage " and fail utterly, it would make 
 
 no difference to me. Sylvia I " He checked 
 
 himself suddenly. 
 
 " There is no such thing as your failing," he 
 went on in a different tone. " There are no more 
 people in the audience now than there were at the 
 dress rehearsal. I purposely filled the house then 
 so that you would not have to face an audience for 
 the first time to-night. I asked men about you, 
 men who have been connected with the stage for 
 years, men who know, who .were anxious to chal- 
 lenge my judgment. They all told me what I knew 
 already. Sylvia, you are a success. When you go 
 on, the crowd will go wild at the sight of you. Re-
 
 206 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 member what I say," he went on laughingly, " be- 
 fore you reach the footlights you will have to bow 
 your thanks." 
 
 Rudolf was not attempting prophecy. He had 
 undertaken that enough of his friends with in- 
 structions were scattered through the house to 
 start the applause upon which he relied to remove 
 all chances of stage fright. 
 
 " Oh, dear ! " she exclaimed suddenly, " there 
 goes the curtain." 
 
 She listened breathlessly to the chorus galloping 
 through the opening number, then came the patter 
 of their feet in the dance. A slight clapping of 
 hands followed, and then then began the melody 
 that was her cue. 
 
 Rudolf seized her hand. " Remember," he said 
 earnestly, " I believe in you, Sylvia." 
 
 The audience craned in an expectant hush. The 
 orchestra played softly while the chorus rocked 
 slowly back and forth in the little wicker rocking- 
 chairs. A few in the audience exchanged glances 
 of appreciation at this innovation. But their eyes 
 quickly turned back to the stage. In a moment they 
 would see the girl who had been elevated to fame 
 almost in a night, the girl who, without backing, 
 without experience, had induced the keenest mana- 
 ger in America to give her the leading part in a 
 Broadway production.
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 207 
 
 Slowly a door at the back of the millinery shop 
 opened, and through it appeared Sylvia. A mur- 
 mur of pleasure swept over the house. For once 
 the advertisements had spoken the truth; a daintier, 
 a more appealing picture than she made in her sim- 
 ple white dress, with her curls peeping out from 
 under her big lace hat, they had never seen. Just 
 inside the door, she stopped, and, with a little frown 
 of vexation, stooped to arrange the bow which was 
 a little crooked. 
 
 It was so naturally done, so artistic, that it hid 
 the art. Rudolf's friends were waiting, as he had 
 directed, for her to get halfway down the stage, 
 so it was not they who started the applause that 
 fairly shook the house. Sylvia looked up in sur- 
 prise. Her fixing the bow was not part of the 
 play. In one of those flashes of thought which 
 in moments of tenseness show up some little thing 
 out of all proportion, she had noticed that the bow 
 was crooked and feared that it would spoil every- 
 thing. At the look of surprise, and the sight of 
 her big brown eyes, the house redoubled its clamor 
 of delight. Without speaking a line, without sing- 
 ing a note, Sylvia had made her hit. 
 
 She was not a bit afraid now of the friendly peo- 
 ple out there in front. She advanced with a smile 
 of happiness on her face, and sang sang as she 
 had done only twice in her life before.
 
 208 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 And now the audience was not only pleased, but 
 filled with a vast respect and admiration. At the 
 end of the first verse, she could hardly go on for 
 the uproar, but stood smiling and dimpling in the 
 most deliciously childlike way. 
 
 And, as the play went on, the wave of success 
 mounted higher and higher. Rudolf, watching 
 from the wings, saw his wildest hopes fulfilled. 
 Sam Andrews was in a ferment of anxiety lest 
 something happened that they lose her. Sylvia was 
 intoxicated with happiness. 
 
 At the end of the second act, the audience de- 
 manded a speech. 
 
 " Go out and talk to them, Sylvia," laughed Ru- 
 dolf. " You might as well, first as last, for they will 
 hold up the play all night unless you do." 
 
 " Oh, I can't ! " she cried in dismay. " I don't 
 know what to say." 
 
 " Say anything." 
 
 " I can't." 
 
 " You must," he answered. " The public de- 
 mands it." He laughed. 
 
 " Tell me what to say, then ; quick, Rudy ! " 
 
 "How do I know what to say?" he retorted. 
 " I'm not a footlight favorite. I'd probably tell 
 you the wrong thing." 
 
 " Please, Rudy." 
 
 But he refused. He was enjoying her discom-
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 209 
 
 fiture, and he knew that the audience would enjoy 
 it. Anything she did now would be looked upon 
 with the greatest delight. 
 
 The audience were wearing out their gloves in 
 frantic demand for Sylvia to make a speech to 
 them. At last she came out with a frightened look 
 on her face. The noise ceased instantly. She stood 
 hesitating. 
 
 " I thank you," she began in a quavering voice, 
 " very much." She seemed about to say more, but 
 suddenly turned and fled into the wings. 
 
 The audience were immensely tickled; it was so 
 refreshing, it pleased them to think that, while 
 they were lost in admiration for her, she was really 
 afraid of them. It was a new sensation. " She 
 doesn't seem a bit like an actress," they said de- 
 lightedly to one another, intending the highest 
 compliment. 
 
 Yet after all it was with the critics, the news- 
 paper men, that Ruth's fate lay, but not in their 
 ranks either was there any defection. 
 
 " By Jove ! " said Addison of The Star to Porter 
 of The Record, during the second intermission, 
 " Rudolf has made a find this time. I came here 
 to-night to roast this play to the limit. I was going 
 to head my article, ' Amateur Night at the Ant- 
 werp,' but she's taken me into camp without a shot 
 fired. Porter, she's going to set New York crazy."
 
 210 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 " Yes," assented the other, " no doubt about it, 
 and," he continued gloomily, " we'll be having Syl- 
 via hats, Sylvia gowns, Sylvia cigars; we'll put up 
 our money on a horse named Sylvia, and lose 
 it " 
 
 " What do you think of the show itself ? " in- 
 terrupted the other. 
 
 " Oh, fair ! It would have a moderate run with 
 anyone else in the lead, but with this girl why, 
 she's the whole show, and she's it." 
 
 Lorimer, of The Ledger, strolled up. This was 
 the most critical paper in New York, and had the 
 largest circulation among the solid classes. 
 
 "Well, fellows, how's the roast coming on?" 
 
 Porter laughed. " Addison and I have just 
 buried it, and are busy turning the funeral 
 meats into a triumphal feast. Want to join 
 us?" 
 
 Lorimer nodded. " She's way ahead of anything 
 I ever saw in this line. I don't usually enjoy this 
 sort of thing, but I'm enjoying myself to-night. 
 Have you seen Jim Donelly? I wonder what he 
 thinks about it ? " 
 
 " I saw him a few moments ago," answered Por- 
 ter. " He's going to write up a great puff for 
 her." 
 
 " Then it's a case of boost all around. Well, 
 I'm glad. She sort of gets hold of you somehow.
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 211 
 
 I suppose it's because she's so small seems like 
 such a kid." 
 
 "This from you and at your age, Lorimer?" 
 exclaimed Adclison. " I think we had all better 
 have a drink after that. These flights of senti- 
 mentality are very often conducive to thirst." 
 
 " Everything is in your case," retorted Lori- 
 mer, laughing. 
 
 Thus Ruth gained the success which she had 
 come to New York to gain. In the morning, the 
 papers would be full of her triumph. A new star 
 had arisen on the theatrical horizon, and bid fair 
 to shine the most brilliantly of them all.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 RUDOLF watched Ruth's success, torn with inde- 
 cision. The worse part of his nature cried out to 
 him that now he held her in the hollow of his 
 hand; that after this she could never go back. The 
 sight of her in her dainty costumes, the sound of 
 her voice, the grace of her dancing, fired the man's 
 blood. At her approach he trembled, and, when 
 she left him, he yearned to start after her and seize 
 her, drawing her back to him. 
 
 And yet even in the thought he despised him- 
 self for it. The better part of his nature was alert 
 and fighting valiantly. It reminded him of her ab- 
 horrence, her contempt when she should know what 
 he was. Under this fear, he told himself that he 
 would be honorable, that he would do the right 
 thing, and, even as he said it, knew that he did not 
 want to. 
 
 Two mighty forces were battling in the man's 
 soul, and neither could win. Between the two he 
 was torn as if on a rack. Two months ago he 
 would have taken the ignoble course without any 
 qualms of conscience. He would have figured that 
 he had played for high stakes, and won. He would 
 
 212
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 213 
 
 have argued that, in putting Ruth on as a star, 
 he had risked his reputation, and faced the possi- 
 bility of a large money loss. 
 
 He had played the game with high stakes when 
 he might have played with low. He had been gen- 
 erous, he had given her everything human heart 
 could wish for, fame, wealth, the applause of the 
 multitude, surely no one could expect him to do all 
 this for nothing. He would have felt that Ruth, 
 struggle as she might against the sin at first, would 
 become used to the changed conditions, and would 
 in time recognize that he had not been unfair. Two 
 months ago he would have argued in this way if 
 he argued at all, and possibly two months hence, 
 under the continued sway of Ruth's influence, he 
 might be able to carry out the renunciation which 
 his better nature cried out to him to make, but which 
 he had not the force of character to do. His life 
 up to this time had not been such as to stiffen his 
 moral fiber to the state in which it would find 
 renunciation easy. 
 
 So the two forces strove together, and neither 
 could gain an advantage. But Rudolf had pro- 
 gressed far enough on the upward path to be de- 
 termined to keep his baser nature in check as long 
 as he possibly could. Thus the scales were evenly 
 balanced, and a very little circumstance would tip 
 them one way or the other.
 
 214 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 Rudolf was standing by the car, waiting for Ruth 
 to come out. Unable to bear the sight of her any 
 longer, he had left the theater, yet he was not 
 strong enough to forego the ride home with her. 
 He knew that he ought to plead sickness, and take 
 his way alone; he knew that he was putting himself 
 in the way of temptation that he was scarcely 
 strong enough to resist, but he deceived himself 
 with the fallacy that it would be cowardly to run 
 away. So he waited, trembling with excitement. 
 
 Finally Ruth came out of the theater. 
 
 " I have been looking everywhere for you, Rudy," 
 she said. " I couldn't imagine where you had gone. 
 Wasn't it splendid! I never have been so happy 
 in my life. And didn't Mamie Roberts do well? 
 Now admit that I was right about her." 
 
 " And I was right about you," he answered, as 
 he helped her into the car and took his seat beside 
 her. " I said you would make a hit, and you did. 
 Only you did even better than I hoped for." 
 
 " I'm so glad," she said, " for your sake as well 
 as my own. People have been saying horrid things 
 about you. I have overheard them from time to 
 time, and now they will have to take them back, 
 won't they? I heard one man say you were crazy 
 to give me the part " She laughed happily. 
 
 The car turned toward the hotel. 
 
 " Let's go around Central Park," suggested Ruth.
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 215 
 
 " I'm much too happy to sleep, and I would like 
 the fresh air." 
 
 He gave the directions to the chauffeur, one side 
 of his nature exulting, the other warning him that 
 he ought to make some excuse. His heart was beat- 
 ing violently now. Every word she spoke added 
 to his passion. He dared not look at her, for fear 
 he would lose control of himself completely. He 
 sat staring straight in front of him, one hand grip- 
 ping the window sill, the other clenched in his lap, 
 and all the while a voice within was crying : " Fool, 
 fool ! Take her she is yours ! " 
 
 He listened vaguely to her talk about her suc- 
 cess, and replied mechanically. His voice sounded 
 far away to his own ears. 
 
 Ruth was too excited to notice his strange de- 
 meanor. She had gained success ! She lived every 
 moment of the play over again, glorying in it. She 
 heard the applause that had greeted her every ac- 
 tion. It had been a triumph without a flaw, and 
 it was she, Ruth Lawson, who had accomplished it. 
 It seemed hard to believe that it was she who had 
 done it. How she would have laughed six months 
 ago, if anyone had told her that to-night she would 
 be a star, and yet it was true. She had come to 
 New York poor and friendless, and to-night she 
 stood at the very top, and yet, even amid all her 
 happiness, there was room for a pang of sorrow
 
 216 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 for Lory, for Madge, for all those others who had 
 failed. She realized that she owed her success 
 largely to circumstances, the chance meeting with 
 Lory on the train had been the beginning, and since 
 then every circumstance had been in her favor. 
 Even her failure in finding work had been propi- 
 tious. Everything, since she had left Harbury, 
 had helped her on unerringly to her success. And 
 how much she owed to this man beside her! It 
 was he who had given her the chance, who had 
 made all this possible. She turned toward him. 
 
 " Rudy," she said in a low tone, " I wonder if 
 you know how much I appreciate what you have 
 done for me ? " 
 
 He did not answer, and she looked at him won- 
 deringly. 
 
 " What did you say? " he asked a moment later. 
 " I was thinking " 
 
 :< You are not very polite, Rudy," she laughed. 
 " I was thanking you for all you have done for 
 me." 
 
 " Oh that's all right." 
 
 They relapsed into silence. The car swept on, 
 gained the upper end of the park, and turned to- 
 ward home. So far his better nature had kept him 
 in check, but Rudolf's face was bathed in perspira- 
 tion, and the cool air blowing in through the win- 
 dow brought no assuagement to the fever that was
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 217 
 
 devouring his body. But he was not unhappy; a 
 joyful intoxication, induced by her nearness, by 
 the fact that she was his for the taking, coursed 
 through his veins, and filled him with a savage joy. 
 And always within him echoed the cry : " Fool ! 
 fool ! Take her she is yours ! " 
 
 The car sped rapidly onward, and dashed out of 
 the Fifty-ninth Street entrance into Fifth Avenue. 
 
 " Almost home now ; you are doing well," com- 
 mended his better nature. 
 
 ' You are letting your best chance go by," jeered 
 the voice. " Fool ! fool ! " 
 
 The car swept down the almost deserted avenue. 
 Suddenly another car darted around the corner of 
 a cross street. Rudolf's chauffeur averted a col- 
 lision only by a lightning swerve to the left. Ru- 
 dolf was flung violently against the side of the car, 
 and Ruth was thrown over against him. 
 
 At the touch of her body, the man's passions 
 leaped all bounds. The jeering voice was now one 
 of command. All thoughts of honor, all fears of 
 her abhorrence, were swept away. His mind held 
 but the one primal instinct he loved this woman 
 and he would have her. He seized her roughly, cov- 
 ering her face, her hair, with wild, passionate kisses. 
 
 " I love you," he breathed hotly in her ear. " I 
 love you." 
 
 For a moment Ruth was robbed of action by the
 
 218 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 suddenness of the attack; she lay passive in his 
 arms. Then, with a wild cry, she struggled to free 
 herself. He laughed hoarsely. 
 
 " I love you," he repeated over and over again. 
 
 " Let me go," she implored piteously. " Please 
 let me go." 
 
 He released her, but retained her hand in his, 
 while his burning eyes devoured her face. She 
 shrank back in the corner of the seat, her eyes 
 dilated with horror. 
 
 " I love you ! " he cried chokingly. " I would 
 have asked you to be my wife. That afternoon 
 when you told me I would have asked you then. 
 When I found out, I meant to give you up. ... I 
 tried hard, but I can't. I swear that I will hold 
 you as sacredly my wife as if there had been a 
 ceremony performed in a church. I will do any- 
 thing you wish. We will go abroad anything." 
 
 Ruth shrank further away from him. 
 
 "Will you, Sylvia?" pleaded the man. "Say 
 that you will. If you wish, you can remain on the 
 stage. Backed by my influence, your name will be 
 known all over this country, through Europe. And 
 no one need know." 
 
 At the tortured expression on his face, she 
 checked the scornful words that sprang tumultu- 
 ously to her lips. 
 
 " You think I would do this ? " she said sadly.
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 219 
 
 " You know me so little that you think I would do 
 this?" 
 
 " Why not ? " he demanded passionately. " Are 
 there not thousands of women who do not consider 
 a few words spoken in church paramount to every- 
 thing else? If you were free, I would marry you. 
 Instead, you are married to a man who is worse 
 than dead, who " 
 
 She interrupted him coldly. " I have been gen- 
 tle with you, because I felt that you could not 
 know what your proposal would mean to me, but 
 I warn you that, if you persist, you will raise up 
 a barrier between us which can never be lowered." 
 
 " I have not been ungenerous," he pleaded. 
 " Your success to-night does it mean nothing to 
 you?" 
 
 " If this is the price, no! " she answered scorn- 
 fully. 
 
 His anger flared up. " I love you," he said dog- 
 gedly, " and I will have you." 
 
 She flashed at him a look of contempt, which 
 made him shrink back. 
 
 He started to say something, but suddenly the 
 car drew up in front of the hotel. Ruth opened 
 the door, and, springing out, ran quickly into the 
 building. 
 
 The half-finished sentence died on his lips. He 
 stared after her, stung to the quick by her action.
 
 220 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 His passion fell from him, leaving him cold with 
 shame. In a flash of illumination he realized what 
 he had done, saw himself for what he was, knew 
 that his next sentence would have been a threat. 
 He sank back in his seat, passing a hand wearily 
 across his eyes. 
 
 " God! " he muttered; then again, " God! "
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 LORY and Jack were waiting in Ruth's apartments 
 for her return. They had watched her success with 
 deep joy in their hearts. Now, as they waited, they 
 talked of the exquisite Sylvia she had made, of the 
 reception the audience had given her, of her future 
 in the profession, of the success of Rudolf's scheme 
 of advertising, but neither voiced the thought 
 which was uppermost in their minds. 
 
 Finally they heard her at the door, and sprang 
 up with words of congratulation on their lips, but 
 at the sight of her face the words remained unut- 
 tered. Lory threw Jack a meaning glance, and, 
 with a muttered excuse, he left the room, and a mo- 
 ment later a closing door announced his departure 
 from the apartments. 
 
 Ruth sank wearily into a chair. Lory knelt by 
 her side, and threw an arm around her. 
 
 " Don't try to tell me, dear. I know already." 
 
 Ruth turned a wondering glance on her. " You 
 know already ? " 
 
 " I have known from the first, ever since Ru- 
 dolf offered you a special position in ' The Pari- 
 
 221
 
 222 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 sian Milliner.' Ruth, men like Benjamin Rudolf 
 do not do that kind of thing for nothing." 
 
 Ruth sprang up, and pushed the other away. 
 
 " You knew this ? " she said bitterly. " And 
 you let me go on you, whom I thought my 
 friend!" 
 
 Lory rose. " Listen, Ruth," she said quietly. 
 " Hear what I have to say, first, and then you can 
 judge. You were poor, you had to have money. 
 Jack and I had tried every other manager in New 
 York, and there seemed to be no chance of get- 
 ting you on. There were hundreds of other girls 
 who had experience and more pull. Then Rudolf 
 made the offer. Maybe you remember that we did 
 not act altogether pleased because he gave you a 
 special position; we knew what that meant. Well, 
 after you had gone to bed that night, we. talked 
 it over. We did not know whether we ought to tell 
 you or not. We knew that, if we did, you would 
 throw the whole thing over. What would you have 
 done then? I had a hard time to get you to live 
 with me just for the summer, and it was only by 
 promising that you would have a position in the 
 fall, so that you could pay me back, that you con- 
 sented at all. Jack said he was willing to pay your 
 expenses if you would continue to live with me, but 
 I knew you would not do it. I had bluffed that 
 I could get you a job, and I was at my wits' ends
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 223 
 
 to know how to make good. Then Rudolf turned 
 up. We knew that, if he put you on, he would 
 give you a good send-off, and give you a chance to 
 show what you had in you. To-night proved that 
 we were right in that. If there had been any other 
 mortal thing for you to do, it would have been dif- 
 ferent, but you never could have gotten a job 
 which would pay you as much as you needed, any- 
 where else but on the stage. You had to have 
 money, and this was your only chance. We may 
 have done wrong, I don't know, but we did the 
 only thing it seemed possible to do." 
 
 Ruth listened in silence. " I understand," she 
 said at last, with a great weariness in her voice. 
 " You did only what you thought best. Perhaps it 
 was best." 
 
 Lory was rilled with surprise that Ruth took it 
 so easily. She was also very much relieved. She 
 had expected hysterics and a scene. She was glad 
 that Ruth was ready to bow to the inevitable. As 
 long as it had to be, there was no use of making a 
 fuss about it. 
 
 " Well, anyway," she said cheerfully, " you have 
 made a big hit, the biggest I ever saw. Rudy cer- 
 tainly spread himself; you must give him credit for 
 that." 
 
 Ruth flung her head up proudly. " I give Benja- 
 min Rudolf credit for nothing," she said coldly.
 
 224 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 " It was a trap, a trap deliberately prepared. I 
 thought at first that it was a moment of madness. 
 I could have forgiven that. But now that I know 
 the truth, I shall have nothing more to do with 
 him. Even while I am playing in ' The Parisian 
 Milliner,' I will not speak to him if I can help it." 
 
 Lory stared at her. Twice she started to speak, 
 and twice she hesitated. At last she stammered : 
 
 " Is it possible that you do not understand 
 now?" 
 
 " Understand understand what ? " 
 
 " Ruth," said Lory in a low tone, " you speak 
 of your playing in ' The Parisian Milliner.' Don't 
 you understand, you will not be allowed to play 
 
 in ' The Parisian Milliner ' unless You speak 
 
 of traps ' The Parisian Milliner ' is the bait. Do 
 you understand now ? " 
 
 Ruth looked bewildered. " But the contract he 
 has signed a contract." 
 
 " It is not worth the paper it's written on. Un- 
 less you have money to fight a case in court, a con- 
 tract is worthless." 
 
 A look of utter horror dawned in Ruth's eyes. 
 '' You mean ?" Then she remembered Ru- 
 dolf's words, " I love you and I will have you." 
 
 Was it possible that he was so vile! At last she 
 was face to face with the shadow. Now she knew 
 how Madge had felt Lory all those others. If
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 225 
 
 she refused, it would mean the end of her suc- 
 cess in " The Parisian Milliner." All her hopes, 
 all her dreams, her happiness, would vanish. She 
 had been allowed to taste of all the good things 
 of life, only to have them wrested from her. For 
 a moment, she thought of yielding, but only for a 
 moment. Then she stiffened herself against the 
 blow. 
 
 " I will leave ' The Parisian Milliner ' then," she 
 said in a stifled voice. " I will get another position. 
 I proved to-night that I have ability." 
 
 Lory shook her head. " Not another manager 
 in New York would dare give you a position. Ru- 
 dolf would sue them if they did, under the pretense 
 that you had broken your contract with him. It 
 wouldn't be the first time a thing like that has hap- 
 pened. You remember Dolly Martin? Well, it 
 happened to her for one." 
 
 Ruth could feel the shadow closing in about her, 
 but still she struggled. She would give up every- 
 thing, she would go back to poverty, before she 
 would consent to this thing. 
 
 " I will leave the stage," she said in a strained 
 voice. " I will look for a position in some other 
 line. I know more now than when I came to New 
 York, and I have more friends. Maybe some of 
 them can help me. I will try again." 
 
 Lory could not understand this sacrifice of all
 
 226 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 for a principle, but she respected Ruth's feelings. 
 
 " All right, kid," she said cheerfully. " If that's 
 what you want to do, why, we'll try our best to 
 find you something. It will be easier now than it 
 was last summer. We may strike something pretty 
 good, after all, only you are sure you want to give 
 it all up?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " All right, then, but " She sighed. " By the 
 
 way," she went on, " there's a letter on the table 
 from Harbury. It must have come after you went 
 to the theater." 
 
 At the mention of Harbury, Ruth started. In 
 the excitement of the moment, she had not thought 
 of what the change in her plans would mean to 
 John and his mother. She picked up the letter, and 
 tore it open mechanically. As she read, every ves- 
 tige of color died out of her face, and she clutched 
 at the table with a trembling hand for support. 
 At last the letter fluttered from her nerveless fin- 
 gers to the floor. With a cry of anguish, she sank 
 into a chair, and buried her face in her hands. 
 
 " What is it ? " gasped Lory. " For God's sake, 
 tell me what is the matter ! " 
 
 Ruth motioned toward the letter. Lory picked 
 it up and read. It was a pitiful letter. John's 
 mother did not want to bother Ruth, but the money 
 had given out. She had tried to keep the fact
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 227 
 
 from her, but now the neighbors had decided that 
 John must go to the asylum, and she to the poor- 
 house. She had told them of Ruth's coming salary, 
 but their disapproval of the stage as a profession, 
 coupled with an incredulity that anyone whom they 
 had known could be possessed of talent, had only 
 strengthened them in their determination. 
 
 Ruth hardly heard Lory's words of sympathy. 
 At last the shadow had enveloped her; there was 
 no escape. Benjamin Rudolf had laid the trap and 
 circumstances had arrayed themselves on his side. 
 There was only the one thing to do now; the path 
 stretched out in front of her. On either side were 
 walls impossible to surmount. She could not turn 
 aside, she could not go back; she could only go 
 forward. It was not a question of choice, it was 
 not a question of right or wrong; had she been the 
 purest woman on earth or the most vile, it made 
 no difference. Had she been possessed of the 
 strongest character or the weakest, the result must 
 be the same. Nothing made any difference except 
 money she must have that. She had been through 
 the asylum near Harbury. She had not recovered 
 from the effects of the visit for weeks. At night 
 she would wake up to shudder at the sights she 
 had seen there, of the sounds she had heard. Ru- 
 mors had come to her ears of crimes committed 
 there, crimes excused in the name of necessity,
 
 228 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 sheltered under the guise of legality. Hiram Marsh 
 had died suddenly while in the asylum. The doc- 
 tors had given a long-sounding Latin name as the 
 reason for his death, but it leaked out that his body 
 was a mass of bruises, and there was an ugly cut 
 on his head. John had believed with many others 
 around Harbury that he had been beaten to death. 
 There had been, at the time, intense excitement, and 
 threats of an exposure, "but it had all died down, 
 and nothing was ever done. Nor did the poorhouse 
 bear a much better reputation. She must save John 
 and his mother at any cost. 
 
 Not for herself would she have made the sacri- 
 fice, not to save her body from torture would she 
 have consented to follow the path. Willingly she 
 would have given up everything, willingly would 
 she have undergone any privation and want, to 
 escape this thing. The very thought of it turned 
 her sick with horror, her soul shriveled within her. 
 Yet for John and his mother yes; she would do 
 it for them. 
 
 And in that moment she seemed to see the vast 
 army of women, the women who are passed by 
 on the street with a sneer, who are looked upon 
 with loathing, for whom no one has a word of sym- 
 pathy, whom all believe to be following the path 
 because it is easy and pleasant. She seemed to look 
 into their aching hearts masked under the smiles
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 229 
 
 on their painted faces, and read there the truth, 
 deadened though it might be by the bitterness of 
 their fate. And now she was to become one of their 
 number. It did not seem possible, it could not be 
 true! She looked back over her happy girlhood, 
 her marriage with John, and their life together. 
 She remembered little instances replete with joy and 
 love and innocence. Not one thing in all her life 
 pointed toward this, yet this was the end of it all. 
 Utterly unsuspecting, utterly undeserving, she had 
 been caught in the grip of circumstance, against 
 which her most frantic struggles would be useless, 
 vain. 
 
 Yes; this was the end of everything. For her 
 there could be no more hope, no more joy, no self- 
 respect. She would be dead in the midst of life. 
 Her life, her real life, would end here, now. Hence- 
 forth she would be a puppet, acquiescent to fate. She 
 would not struggle; she was through with all that. 
 Like Madge, she had done her best, and failed. For 
 her failure, she was punished, and the punishment 
 was this ! 
 
 Then a great bitterness surged up in her heart. 
 Where was God that he would allow such things? 
 Could it be possible that he was the ruler of the 
 world, and yet looked down serenely while his chil- 
 dren were forced into torture by circumstances? 
 What were these circumstances? Were they a re-
 
 230 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 suit of blind chance, were human beings but pup- 
 pets at the mercy of chance happenings, endowed 
 with character, consciences, only as a mockery? 
 She had lived a right life; she had been true to 
 herself, to her fellow-beings, and to her Maker. 
 Was this her reward ? She seemed to see the whole 
 human race a multitude of chips tossed about on a 
 raging torrent. Some caught in the current in the 
 middle of the stream bobbed serenely on toward the 
 goal; others, gripped by eddies, were thrown upon 
 the shore helpless and devoid of the power to con- 
 tinue the journey. Still others were caught, as she 
 was caught, in whirlpools and drawn down into 
 the muddy depths. For a while she also had been 
 one of the fortunate chips borne onward by the 
 main current. Had nothing intervened, she would 
 even now be sailing placidly on, all unknowing of 
 the eddies and whirlpools which proved so disas- 
 trous to others. She would have scoffed at their 
 power, would have believed that it was she who was 
 steering her course so grandly, would have been 
 self-complacent that she was better, more skillful, 
 than the other chips. And John he was one of 
 those thrown upon the shore, while yet his voyage 
 was hardly beginning. He had thought himself 
 strong and self-reliant and powerful, had scoffed 
 at the power of the current to do aught else but 
 bear him on wherever it pleased him to go. In a
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 231 
 
 moment he had been cast aside, while the stream 
 swept on. 
 
 She wondered dimly what had been the begin- 
 ning of it all. Where had the current which was 
 now sucking her down into the whirlpool first been 
 felt ? Was it when she had met Rudolf, or further 
 back when she had smiled at Lory in the train, 
 or was all this the result of John's accident ? Maybe 
 the beginning was even further back still, when 
 John had bought Prince. There was a chain of cir- 
 cumstances, composed of little links, a chain which 
 would have been incomplete without any one of the 
 links, but, as a whole, it bound her so that she could 
 not escape its remorseless grip. 
 
 When Ruth at last spoke, her voice was lifeless. 
 " Please look up Benjamin Rudolf's telephone 
 number." 
 
 "What are you going to do?" asked Lory in 
 agitation. 
 
 " I must have money at once. I will ask him 
 to telegraph it to Harbury for me." 
 
 "Then ?" 
 
 " Can you ask, after reading that letter ? "
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 IT was twenty minutes, twenty long minutes of ex- 
 quisite torture to the distracted woman before Ben- 
 jamin Rudolf arrived, and at the end of this time 
 she had relapsed into a waking-dream state. 
 
 At the sound of his quick step outside her door 
 and then his knock, she felt herself rise and throw 
 open the door. Something told her that she must 
 play her part; must carry out her side of the bar- 
 gain. She was to sell herself for money, money for 
 John and his mother. She must appear attractive, 
 otherwise Rudolf might repudiate his bargain be- 
 fore it was made. 
 
 Strangely enough, her New England conscience, 
 going off at a tangent, told her that no matter what 
 this man had done, no matter how he had trapped 
 her, no matter how vile he was, that in acceding 
 to his terms she bound herself to fulfill a tacit 
 agreement. She must keep herself just as she was 
 when the price was offered ; she must not sulk, she 
 must not seem blue or dissatisfied, she must not 
 appear unhappy, for that would be cheating dis- 
 honest. It made no difference how dishonorable he 
 was, that would not excuse it in her. 
 
 232
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 233 
 
 He entered quickly. " You sent for me you 
 are not ill ? " 
 
 She heard herself answer, " No, not ill I 
 wanted to see you." 
 
 He waited for her to continue. She stood be- 
 fore him, a mockery of a smile on her face, her 
 nervous hands twitching at her dress. 
 
 " Well," he said at last, " what is it, Sylvia? " 
 
 She did not know what to say, she could not 
 think, she stood wondering what would happen next. 
 Then she heard, seemingly without any volition on 
 her part, her voice say: 
 
 " I must have money I need money I want you 
 to telegraph it to Harbury for me." 
 
 " Certainly," he replied. " How much? " 
 
 Again her voice sounded in her ears : " I don't 
 know a great deal, I think. I have just had a 
 letter they need money. I don't know how much. 
 I have no idea how much." 
 
 ;< You may send as much as you want," he said. 
 He reached for his check-book. 
 
 Then suddenly a bubble of anger, rushing from 
 the very bottom of his mind, darted to the surface 
 and burst into a bitter speech : 
 
 " It seems to be all I am good for." 
 
 She drew in her breath quickly. 
 
 " Pardon me," he said instantly, " I don't know 
 why I said that; it was an unpardonable rudeness."
 
 234 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 Ruth stared at him uncertainly. " But," her voice 
 said quaveringly, " you don't understand." 
 
 He turned his eyes on her. " Understand ? " 
 
 Her hands gripped each other painfully. What 
 was she to say now? How was she to tell him? 
 
 " In the car to-night I I " 
 
 " Sylvia ! " he cried hoarsely. He did not move, 
 but stood searching her with his eyes. 
 
 She could say nothing. Her voice seemed to have 
 failed her. She looked down at her hands writh- 
 ing in her lap. There was a tiny drop of blood 
 on one knuckle. She gazed at it in wonderment. 
 
 " Sylvia ! " he cried again. " You don't mean " 
 
 After an eternity her voice answered, " I've 
 changed my mind." 
 
 He sprang toward her with outstretched arms. 
 Suddenly she was shaken back to herself. With a 
 cry of dismay she drew back, and a shudder of 
 repulsion shook her body. 
 
 "Am I so terrible?" he asked bitterly. "Is it 
 true that all you care about me is to get money, 
 fame, everything from me and then hate me ? " 
 
 " I don't hate you," she moaned, driven on by 
 John's need. 
 
 "Then what is the meaning of all this? Why 
 did you send for me? Why are you telling me 
 you have changed your mind? What is the mean- 
 ing of it all?"
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 235 
 
 A sudden desire to get it over with surged into 
 her mind. She braced herself for the falsehood. 
 
 " I have changed my mind," she said, but her 
 voice wavered. " In the car, I was surprised I 
 didn't realize. All this luxury, fame, everything, 
 means more to me than I thought. I I have 
 changed my mind." 
 
 She forced her eyes to meet his. Their gaze met 
 and interlocked. He seemed to be looking down 
 into her very soul. She dropped her eyes. 
 
 " I've changed my mind," she reiterated weakly. 
 
 " I don't believe it," he said bluntly. " I don't 
 believe it, Sylvia." 
 
 She looked up frightened. Was she to fail John 
 after all, in the hour of his greatest need? She 
 started to speak. 
 
 " Be quiet," he said sternly. " I want to think." 
 
 She relapsed into silence, watching him with wide 
 eyes. 
 
 He stood musing. " Ah, I have it," he said at 
 last. " That letter from home they need money 
 and you were afraid I would not let you have it. 
 Is that it, Sylvia?" 
 
 She could struggle no longer. " Yes, that is 
 it," she said in a suffocated tone. 
 
 He laughed bitterly. " So you thought that badly 
 of me? Well, no wonder!" 
 
 " I " she said in agitation, " I thought "
 
 236 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 "What did you think?" 
 
 Suddenly she plunged into feverish recital. " I 
 thought it was a trap. I thought I would not be 
 allowed to stay in ' The Parisian Milliner/ I 
 thought I would be poor again, and they need 
 money at home, to keep John from going to the asy- 
 lum. Oh, it is a terrible place! they beat people 
 to death there. I have to have money there 
 seemed no other way. Was I wrong? Has there 
 been some terrible mistake ? " Hope, springing up 
 in her breast, raised her voice almost to a scream. 
 "Tell me tell me!" 
 
 " You were right," he said harshly. " It was a 
 trap at first. Afterwards I don't know. I am 
 not a good man, and I love you." He laughed 
 mirthlessly, and began his restless pacing of the 
 room. 
 
 Unreality closed in again about Ruth. She sat 
 motionless. She could not think, she did not know 
 what to say. Presently some one would pull a 
 string, she thought, and then she would move, but 
 she could not voluntarily. 
 
 " So you are willing to do this ? " Rudolf flung 
 over his shoulder at her jerkily. 
 
 " There seemed no other way," she said tone- 
 lessly. " Yes." 
 
 He resumed his pacing, and again there was si- 
 lence. Ruth watched him dully.
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 237 
 
 Suddenly he laughed aloud, recklessly, mirth- 
 lessly, a grating, discordant cackle. 
 
 " Let the cards lie as they have fallen," he said 
 raspingly. " Besides ' The Parisian Milliner,' this 
 luxury, fame, all the rest of it how much cash? 
 Tell me the whole of the price." 
 
 His brutal words stung her back to life. " Oh ! " 
 she cried. 
 
 " Will a thousand be enough two thousand 
 five what is the amount ? " 
 
 She sat silent, staring at him. 
 
 " Ah ! " he exclaimed roughly, " I see. I am to 
 fix my own price. Very well. I will telegraph 
 the money to Harbury at once. To whom shall I 
 send it?" 
 
 She answered mechanically, " Mrs. Henry Law- 
 son." 
 
 Unnecessarily he took out a notebook and wrote 
 it down. 
 
 For a moment he hesitated, looking at her with 
 a strange expression on his face. She gathered 
 herself together, her heart pounding sickeningly. 
 Then he turned abruptly to the door. 
 
 " Good-night ! " he said, and was gone. 
 
 The sleepless night was drawing to a close. A 
 dim light filtered through the curtains in Ruth's 
 room. Somewhere in the building she heard the
 
 238 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 closing of a door. Below in the street the rum- 
 blings of the electric cars grew more frequent. The 
 honking of automobile horns came at less lengthy 
 intervals. The city was awakening. A new day 
 was coming into existence. In a short while the 
 sun, climbing up out of the sea, would flood the 
 city with his cheering rays, but they would find no 
 answering light in Ruth Lawson's soul. 
 
 For that was in the shadow, the terrible insinu- 
 ating shadow that was everywhere in this awful 
 city. It had now completely enveloped her. She 
 could see its solid walls on every side, she could 
 almost touch it, and yet in grim mockery it held 
 aloof. She had sold herself to Rudolf. Already 
 the money derived from her sale was in Harbury. 
 He might claim her when and how he chose. Some 
 day he would, perhaps to-day. She moaned, a fee- 
 ble, heart-stricken cry. 
 
 A stray hope creeping warily into her mind, that 
 he might never claim her, was shattered in an in- 
 stant. The picture of the happiness of John's 
 mother, when she received the sorely needed money, 
 came to her weak and devoid of the power to cheer, 
 or to lessen her suffering. The knowledge that she 
 had done only what she must that, in sacrificing 
 herself for another's need, she had gained the 
 heights of unselfish nobility carried no solace.
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 239 
 
 There was room in her mind only for the horror, 
 the shameful, soul-rending horror. 
 
 Yet never once did she think of evasion. The 
 compact was made it was too late now to think 
 of withdrawing, and, besides, to her peculiar tex- 
 ture of mind, the fact was already accomplished 
 she had sold herself. Something in the innermost 
 part of her being told her in no uncertain terms 
 that she had crossed the line she was now on the 
 other side. 
 
 At noon Lory called her up on the 'phone. " Do 
 you want me, dear?" 
 
 " Yes ; oh, yes, Lory ! " Ruth answered. 
 
 Lory came, asking no questions, demanding no 
 confidences, soothing, with her sure touch and 
 boundless sympathy, the girl's distracted mind. As 
 she was leaving, she hesitated : " There is some- 
 thing maybe you ought to know, Ruth, dear. Jack 
 blew in from Philly early this morning, and at the 
 station he met Rudolf with a suitcase and a lot of 
 junk. Rudy said he was going South and would 
 be gone for a couple of months."
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 IN Harbury, the winter was ushered in by a term 
 of zero weather; the trees seemed frozen against 
 the December sky, the ground was white and glis- 
 tening in its mantle of snow. There was ice every- 
 where, not only on the mill pond, where it did no- 
 body any harm and filled the hearts of the younger 
 generation with ecstatic joy, but also in the pumps 
 and cisterns and, worst of all, in the pitcher con- 
 taining the water for Doctor Horace Barney's 
 ablutions. 
 
 " Curse it ! " he cried angrily, poking at the glis- 
 tening layer with his toothbrush, while from be- 
 tween his parted lips his breath escaped in a cloud 
 of steam. " Curse it ! Why did I ever come to this 
 God-forsaken hole ? " 
 
 The thought of his own luxuriously appointed 
 apartments in New York did not tend to lessen his 
 dissatisfaction. 
 
 " Why can't they let me alone ? " he muttered 
 savagely. " Always nagging, nagging about my 
 working too hard until they get me to come to a 
 hole in the ground like this." 
 
 He peered at the ice again, and then attacked it, 
 240
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 241 
 
 more successfully this time, with his hair-brush. 
 After accomplishing this feat, he slopped the wa- 
 ter in his face, puffing and blowing like a porpoise. 
 
 One could see at a glance that the doctor, or 
 rather, surgeon for such he was did not fit in 
 with his surroundings. His corpulent body, with 
 its pink skin showing beneath the sleeves of his 
 silk undershirt, was not in accord with the prim 
 aspect of the Puritan bedroom, nor was the tem- 
 perature one in which Doctor Barney would flour- 
 ish. His natural habitation would be among the 
 flesh-pots, not the vulgar flesh-pots, but those which 
 a fastidious and educated taste alone could enjoy, 
 for Doctor Barney was a finished product of a 
 finished civilization. 
 
 The reason for his presence among these condi- 
 tions so foreign to his usual surroundings was sim- 
 ple: Doctor Barney had burned the candle at both 
 ends, one being his love for surgery, the other his 
 love of the good things of life. By rigorous 
 physical training, he might have been able to bear 
 the strain of his many and difficult operations, or 
 without the operations, his mild dissipations would 
 have produced little if any effect on his health, 
 but the combination was too strong, and one day 
 he had collapsed at an operation. His friends had 
 immediately raised a clamor, which was echoed 
 by a secret fear in his own mind, and the result of
 
 242 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 it all was that he had protestingly exiled himself 
 to Harbury, where he was staying with an old aunt 
 of his. He had decided to remain here two weeks, 
 and this he was determined to do, although now, 
 on the fourth day of his visit, he could easily see 
 that it would be the most miserable two weeks of 
 his life. 
 
 His aunt was a pleasant enough old lady, but she 
 held the idea that talk of operations during meal- 
 time, or any other time in fact, was out of place, 
 and she took no interest in rare china, the collec- 
 tion of which was one of the doctor's hobbies, nor 
 did she listen with interest to the doctor's descrip- 
 tions of the epicurean dishes to be obtained at the 
 Amarynthus Club, nor indeed did any of his dis- 
 course interest her. She still looked upon him as 
 the little boy who used to trample her flower-beds, 
 and break her window when his mother brought 
 him for an occasional visit to Harbury in the sum- 
 mer. Sometimes Doctor Barney rebelled against 
 this attitude on her part, and spent much time and 
 expended a great deal of breath trying to convince 
 her that his name was held in vast respect in New 
 York, but his efforts were useless ; she smiled sooth- 
 ingly, and remained unconvinced. So, altogether, 
 it was but natural that the doctor was unhappy. 
 
 This morning he descended to the dining-room 
 in gloom. Another long day must be put in, and
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 243 
 
 he did not look forward to it with pleasure. As 
 he neared the dining-room, however, the fragrance 
 of the breakfast greeted his nostrils, and, despite 
 himself, a thrill of pleasure ran through him, for 
 Doctor Barney dearly loved his eating. He entered 
 the room with a more sprightly step. A little 
 old lady with sharp black eyes, and wearing a 
 frilled lace cap, was already seated at the table 
 placidly eating her breakfast. Doctor Barney 
 realized that another mark for tardiness had been 
 registered against his name. He put on his most 
 winning manner: 
 
 " Good-morning, Aunt Mary ! You are looking 
 as bright as a flower this morning." 
 
 "Good-morning, Horace! You are late again." 
 There was mild reproof in her tone. 
 
 Inwardly the doctor made uncomplimentary re- 
 marks about people who rise before daylight, but 
 aloud he humbly begged forgiveness for his infrac- 
 tion of the rules. 
 
 " Did you put on the chest protector I left out 
 for you, Horace? " 
 
 Horace had not. " I did not see any chest pro- 
 tector," he prevaricated uneasily. 
 
 " Then you had better run right up and put it 
 on. You know your health is delicate." 
 
 There were two things Doctor Barney despised. 
 One was, to be ordered, even in so mild a way, to
 
 244 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 do anything, and the other was, to be told that 
 he was delicate. Also chest protectors were, in his 
 estimation, the last proof of inanity. But there 
 was a tone of command in his aunt's voice which 
 even now, at the age of fifty-five, he did not 
 dare disobey. 
 
 " I'll put it on after I get my breakfast," he said 
 crossly. 
 
 The old lady said nothing, but went on eating 
 calmly. 
 
 Doctor Barney began to fidget. " Will you ring 
 the bell, please," he asked at last, " so Nettie can 
 bring me something to eat? I'm hungry." 
 
 Miss Mary Barney smiled sweetly. " Certainly, 
 Horace just as soon as you have put on your chest 
 protector." 
 
 He scowled. " You treat me as if I were a 
 child," he said sulkily. 
 
 " All men are children," she returned placidly. 
 
 He waited a little while, hoping that she would 
 relent, although he knew from experience that she 
 would not. Then he went upstairs, and angrily 
 donned the offending article. 
 
 The breakfast would have been looked upon by 
 many as a liberal reward for such a small matter; 
 the biscuits were of the lightest, and the coffee 
 well, even he had to admit that no one could make 
 coffee quite like Aunt Mary and the eggs and
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 245 
 
 bacon were delicious, but they served to lighten the 
 doctor's gloom only a small fraction. 
 
 "I think I'll walk down to the postoffice," he 
 remarked as soon as he had finished. " I am ex- 
 pecting a letter." 
 
 Before Doctor Barney had started away from 
 the haunts of civilization, he had been induced to 
 make several promises to his friends. He had prom- 
 ised that he would not perform any operations, 
 nor would he read any medical books or magazines 
 of any kind, nor talk to any other physician or 
 surgeon on medical topics. In short, he was to 
 forget his profession, and rest. But there was one 
 thing which Doctor Barney had not promised, and 
 that was to refrain from writing letters. He had 
 not intended to take advantage of this technical 
 error on the part of his advisers, but the first day 
 in Harbury had reduced him to such a state of bore- 
 dom that he yielded to the temptation, and dashed 
 off a peppery letter to a colleague who held dia- 
 metrically opposite views concerning a certain op- 
 eration. He had purposely made this letter as 
 insulting as he could so that his brother surgeon 
 they were warm friends would be sure to an- 
 swer. It was this answer that the doctor was now 
 braving the elements to get. Nor was he disap- 
 pointed, for the postmaster handed him out a fat 
 envelope, addressed in a spluttery hand, which
 
 246 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 showed his brother surgeon's state of mind. Doc- 
 tor Barney did not wait, but tore it open at once. 
 Before he had read to the end of the first page his 
 ire was aroused. 
 
 " Why, the man is a fool ! " he exclaimed con- 
 temptuously. " The man is an ignorant fool. Any 
 number of authorities bear me out on that point, 
 
 there's " He dived into his memory for the 
 
 name of the surgeons who agreed with him, but 
 not one could he remember. 
 
 " Curse it ! " he muttered angrily. " If I only had 
 my library here, I could soon show him that he is 
 talking like an ass." 
 
 He left the postoffice, and started up the street, 
 still trying in vain to recall the names which had 
 escaped him. Suddenly his eye fell upon the shin- 
 gle of Doctor Northall. This was always a point 
 of sore temptation to him. He always longed to 
 go in, and talk to the one man in the place who 
 knew the difference between the occipito-frontalis 
 and the tendon of Achilles. Up to this time he 
 had refrained, remembering his promise, but to-day 
 the thought of certain books within the doctor's 
 office added its weight to the temptation, and he 
 fell. He threw a guilty look around, then advanced 
 boldly up the path. 
 
 Doctor Northall himself came to the door, and 
 the tone of mingled respect and pleasure with which
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 247 
 
 he greeted the great surgeon was like balm to the 
 latter's ruffled feelings. Doctor Barney plunged at 
 once into his grievance. " So, you see," he wound 
 up, " the man is an idiot." 
 
 Doctor Northall rose and went over to a book- 
 case. He selected a book, and turned the pages 
 quickly until he came to the passage he was looking 
 for. 
 
 " Here is one authority who upholds you," he 
 remarked, handing the book to the other. 
 
 Doctor Barney took it eagerly. " Why, cer- 
 tainly Von Bergmann had him on the tip of my 
 tongue, but couldn't quite make it." 
 
 After this the two men were brothers in feeling, 
 if not in fact. Doctor Barney could pour out the 
 story of his successful operations into untiring ears, 
 and his spirits revived by the moment. Once in 
 a while his promise rose to confront him, but he 
 ignored it. There was no use being foolish about 
 a thing like that; he could not be expected to go 
 two whole weeks without even talking about his 
 profession. A little chat like this was the best 
 thing in the world for him; it could not possibly 
 do him any harm. 
 
 " By the way," said Doctor Northall at last, 
 " there is a case here in Harbury which I think 
 would interest you. Of course I understand that 
 you are here to rest, not to hunt up fresh cases,
 
 248 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 but I think you would be interested to hear about 
 it" 
 
 At the mention of a case, Doctor Barney pricked 
 up his ears. It was like a blast of a bugle to a 
 veteran war horse. 
 
 " Why, certainly, I'd like to hear about it. Lord 
 love you, man, this is the best word I've heard since 
 I left New York. A case, eh? Well, fire away. 
 What is it?" 
 
 Doctor Northall plunged into a description of 
 John Lawson's condition, and did not want for 
 an attentive listener. When he had finished, Doc- 
 tor Barney asked one or two questions in a rapid- 
 fire manner. Then he arose and paced the room 
 in deep thought. Finally he stopped in front of 
 Doctor Northall. 
 
 " I believe it can be done," he said excitedly. 
 " Weigman says it can't, but I know better. Still, 
 there's a chance " 
 
 " He would be better off dead than living the 
 way he is," answered the other soberly. " If you 
 think it right to operate, I am willing to stand 
 my share of the responsibility." 
 
 " When can I see the patient ? Does he live near 
 here?" 
 
 " We can go now." 
 
 "Good!" 
 
 It was only when, later in the day, Doctor Bar-
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 249 
 
 ney had telegraphed to New York for two trained 
 nurses and an assistant surgeon that he realized 
 how fully he had broken all promises. He viewed 
 the matter philosophically, however. 
 
 " May as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb," 
 he remarked contentedly.
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 JOHN LAWSON opened his eyes, and gazed up into 
 the face of Doctor Northall. 
 
 He smiled feebly. " Prince got away with me," 
 he said, his voice thin and weak, and was aston- 
 ished to find that this simple statement should bring 
 such a look of joy to the doctor's face. He won- 
 dered also who the other man was, and why there 
 should be two women in the uniform of trained 
 nurses in the room. Nor could he understand why 
 they should all shake hands as if something won- 
 derful had occurred. While he was speculating 
 as to what it all meant, he fell asleep. 
 
 When he awoke, his mother was by his bedside. 
 
 " Hello, mother," he said cheerfully. " It seems 
 I had a little accident last night." 
 
 His mother dropped on her knees by the bed. 
 " My boy, my boy ! " she sobbed. " Thank God, 
 my boy, my boy ! " 
 
 " They are making a tremendous fuss about me," 
 he said to himself; "must have thought I was go- 
 ing to die. There, there, mother," he went on, 
 " don't you worry ; it would take more than a lit- 
 tle bump on the head to " 
 
 250
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 251 
 
 He stopped abruptly as his gaze wandered past 
 her out of the window. 
 
 " Jerusalem! " he ejaculated, and stared in aston- 
 ishment at the bare trees covered with little patches 
 of snow. 
 
 He rubbed his eyes and looked at his mother. 
 He reached out and touched her. Yes, she was cer- 
 tainly real he could not be dreaming. A look of 
 horror dawned in his eyes. 
 
 " Mother," he gasped, " Ruth the child?" 
 
 His mother rose and sat down on the bed beside 
 him. " Ruth is well, John." She spoke gently, 
 but there was a pain in her voice he could not 
 understand. 
 
 "And the child?" 
 
 " It died, John it lived only a little while." 
 
 He groaned. His mother rose hastily. " Try to 
 bear it bravely, my son," she said. " You must 
 not talk any more to-day. Try to go to sleep and 
 save your strength." 
 
 " But this is winter, I was hurt in May what ? " 
 
 " Not another word," she said. " To-morrow I 
 will tell you all about it." 
 
 The next day his first question was of Ruth. The 
 mother, pale-faced and red-eyed from a sleepless 
 night of weeping, braced herself for what must 
 come. This was the moment to which she had 
 looked forward with terror ever since she knew
 
 252 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 they were going to operate, and John might recover 
 his mind. 
 
 Ruth's first letter after she had gone to New 
 York had told the mother of her success in ob- 
 taining a position that was the one in the doctor's 
 office. Then had come a period of short, newsless 
 letters, which nevertheless hinted that the position 
 was satisfactory, but paid too little as yet for the 
 girl to send money home. Then, after some months, 
 came the news of the prospective position on the 
 stage. This letter enthusiastic, buoyant, girlish 
 filled the mother with vague alarm. She read it 
 over and over, trying to make herself believe that 
 all was right, but she could not. She had read of 
 the struggles of young women to gain a foothold 
 on the stage, and this leap of Ruth's to a special 
 part just what that was she did not know, but 
 it sounded important frightened her. Who was 
 this man, Benjamin Rudolf? Why was he taking 
 such an interest in Ruth? The answer knocked at 
 the door of her mind, but she would not allow it 
 to enter. 
 
 Then, later, marked copies of newspapers came, 
 sent by " friends," filled with the " romance " be- 
 tween the great theatrical manager and the un- 
 known country girl. She read them through tear- 
 dimmed eyes, and they fluttered from the nerveless, 
 trembling hands to the floor.
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 253 
 
 Gossip did not neglect this golden opportunity. 
 She hovered buzzard-like over Harbury, fattening 
 herself on the luscious morsels, nor did her vo- 
 taries spare the shrinking, heart-broken woman, but 
 under guise of sympathy retailed to her what " they 
 say," and when a drummer, having a friend in the 
 chorus of " The Parisian Milliner," chanced into 
 Harbury, and told what was then common rumor 
 in theatrical circles, the mother heard every word 
 of it cruel, ugly words which destroyed her last 
 atrophied hope and burned into her quivering soul 
 like white-hot irons. 
 
 It had been while her fears were clamoring, but 
 yet unverified, that she wrote and told Ruth of their 
 need of money. It had been immediately tele- 
 graphed, an amount out of all proportion to their 
 needs, and this same Benjamin Rudolf had sent 
 it. She had been forced to accept it; there seemed 
 nothing else to do. She despised herself for the 
 helplessness which made her a recipient of such 
 bounty, but she could see no way out of it. John 
 needed her care she could not leave him, even 
 if by so doing she could gain a livelihood for him 
 and herself. And yet, despite her knowledge that 
 she was doing only what she must, it would be 
 impossible to overestimate her humiliation; no one 
 could know. But Nature knew, and Nature marked
 
 254 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 it indelibly with a thousand wrinkles on her brow, 
 and turned her hair snow-white as a token. 
 
 During all this time pity for her son was far 
 and away ahead of any emotion she felt for Ruth; 
 indeed, at times, she was terribly angry with the 
 girl almost hated her. Why had she done this 
 thing how could she? 
 
 " Perhaps," suggested the still small voice of 
 her intuition, " there was no other way. Perhaps 
 she did it for you and John." 
 
 The mother cried out in agony against the 
 thought. She beat her hands distractedly against 
 her withered breast. " Oh, God ! " she cried. " Not 
 that not that ! " 
 
 And when she thought of the moment when she 
 must tell her son, when he would demand to know 
 of his wife, and she, his mother, must tell him this 
 ghastly thing 
 
 And now that moment had arrived. She stood 
 speechless and trembling, her hands clasping and 
 unclasping, straining together until the knuckles 
 seemed about to start through the flesh. 
 
 Quick suspicion sprang to his mind. 
 
 " Tell me ! " he cried. " Don't stand there like 
 that. Tell me." 
 
 And the mother told him, the whole pitiful story 
 as she knew it, beginning away back at the night 
 of the accident, told him between bursts of sob-
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 255 
 
 bing, softening the blow if, indeed, it could be 
 softened pleading for the girl, extenuating, evad- 
 ing, until he stopped her with: 
 
 " I've heard enough." His voice was hard, bru- 
 tal. The look on his face was terrible. The mother, 
 frightened, stammered and faltered. 
 
 " I want to be alone," he said. 
 
 After his mother had gone, John lay perfectly 
 quiet. From the expression of iron-hardness on his 
 face, one would little imagine what the man was 
 suffering. He had driven forth that night in May, 
 which was his yesterday, in superb confidence in 
 himself and supreme happiness and trust in his 
 wife. Now he had awakened to find his business 
 gone, his home wrecked, his wife an outcast. It 
 would be false to say there was no pity in his heart 
 for her, but it would be equally false to give it 
 a place of undue prominence. His was the race 
 that had burned unoffending old women at the 
 stake, the race that has ever punished sin with an 
 intolerant and unflinching hand, the race that stifled 
 every human emotion when it conflicted with its 
 idea of right. 
 
 In extenuation of him it must be said that he 
 knew nothing of Ruth's struggles the girl had 
 kept them from the mother nothing of the long, 
 weary, heart-breaking months before she gained her 
 present pinnacle of worldly success. He knew
 
 256 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 merely the facts which seemed unmistakably to es- 
 tablish her guilt, and inferred an entirely logical 
 inference to a man of his limited experience and 
 narrow processes of thought that she had yielded 
 to a craving for luxury. 
 
 And, because of this inference, he hardened his 
 heart against her and never a doubt entered his 
 mind of his right to judge without further evi- 
 dence. He lay motionless, staring up at the ceil- 
 ing with unseeing eyes, and only once did a sound 
 escape his lips. 
 
 A random harking backward of his memory re- 
 called his boastings on the night of the drive just 
 before the accident. " If a man is any good, he 
 makes his own circumstances. ... I'd like to see 
 the circumstances that could down me." A bitter 
 laugh was forced from him. 
 
 What a fool he had been! But he went no 
 further, nor did he extend the new understanding 
 to his wife's case. Every fresh thought of her 
 hardened him the more, and, with the self-right- 
 eousness of the father who turns the erring 
 daughter out into the world, John found a grim 
 satisfaction in the thought that he was strong 
 enough to mete out justice with an impartial hand 
 even in the case of one whom he had loved as he 
 had Ruth. And so he reached a decision. Ruth 
 should be to him as one dead.
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 257 
 
 He rang a small bell beside his bedside, and his 
 mother appeared. 
 
 " Mother," he said in a toneless voice, " I want 
 you never to mention her name again in my pres- 
 ence. Furthermore, I forbid you to write to her 
 or have anything to do with her. Do you under- 
 stand?" 
 
 " Yes, John," she answered, trembling. " But 
 about the money she sent what shall I do with 
 that?" 
 
 " How much have you spent? " 
 
 " I have kept account of every penny, John 
 just two hundred and four dollars and seventy-five 
 cents. She sent five thousand. I felt that I could 
 not use it not a penny more than I had to but 
 I did not want to hurt her feelings, so I let it stay 
 in the bank." 
 
 " Let it stay there, then, until I can pay it all 
 back." 
 
 " But, John- 
 
 " Don't try to argue with me," he said angrily. 
 " Do as I say, and don't spend another cent. If 
 we can't get credit, we'll starve." 
 
 " Oh, we can get credit now, John, now that you 
 are better again." 
 
 " Very well, then. Now remember, you are not 
 to write to her. I don't want her even to know
 
 258 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 I am well, until I can pay her back what I owe 
 her." 
 
 He turned his face to the wall. Some day he 
 would send back the money to Ruth without a word. 
 The thought of doing it gave him satisfaction. 
 
 The mother lingered a moment uncertainly, and 
 then went out.
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 As the days went by and John regained his 
 strength, his prevailing thoughts were of business. 
 He would open another store in Harbury he felt 
 that he could borrow enough money for that. 
 Vengeance, too, occupied an uppermost place in his 
 mind, and Sam Brunt was to feel the weight of 
 it, for, taking advantage of her need, Sam had 
 cheated John's mother shamefully in the deal 
 the store was worth four times what he had paid 
 for it. Very well, Sam would have him to reckon 
 with now. He would force him out of business, 
 if it were a possible thing, and he thought it was, 
 if he made his plans carefully. 
 
 And not only against Sam Brunt did John har- 
 bor malice, but against the whole community. He 
 felt keenly his humiliation, and read in every face 
 contempt for him. He meant to compel back the 
 respect he had once held in Harbury, and which 
 he felt was now denied him. As a matter of fact 
 the contempt was not there. The village had sa- 
 tiated its love of the sensational on the wife, and 
 the husband now had its deep and real sympathy. 
 
 Each person in Harbury vied with every other in 
 259
 
 260 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 speaking loudly of his deep feeling for John. 
 When he had been rising toward success, Harbury 
 had been jealous of him, but now even the mean- 
 est of her inhabitants could say truthfully, " I would 
 rather be myself than John Lawson." And it is 
 this state of mind which is most conducive to sym- 
 pathy. After all, human emotions should not be 
 dissected too nicely, for, much as a man would 
 wish to rejoice in the success of a friend, the tini- 
 est factor of jealousy is bound to creep in; but, on 
 the other hand, let that friend be hopelessly down, 
 so that every favor to him becomes an act of be- 
 nevolence, and real pity springs into the heart. It 
 is perhaps only natural that each human being 
 should wish to keep his plane a little higher than 
 that of his fellows. 
 
 John's mother was sorely troubled about her son. 
 She scarcely knew the altered John. He had always 
 been a little hard and stern even as a boy, but 
 then there had been other qualities that modified 
 these traits and kept them in the background. It 
 seemed now as if hardness was his predominant 
 habit of thought. She saw it not only in the big 
 things, but in a hundred little ways, and she was 
 frightened. And she was suffering keenly for Ruth. 
 Had John disbelieved, or had he, even though be- 
 lieving, shown any leniency toward her, it is en- 
 tirely probable that his mother would have taken
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 261 
 
 an opposing position in the matter. As it was, 
 when John refused to speak of his wife, or to 
 allow her name to be mentioned, the mother swung 
 to the other extreme. Every sacrifice Ruth had 
 made in the days before she had gone to New 
 York, every act of affection, every happy, girlish 
 way, came before her eyes in recurrently more vivid 
 pictures until at times she did not care what Ruth 
 was or what she had done, she felt it was John's 
 duty to take her back and let the past be wiped 
 out. And with these thoughts came the terrible 
 realization that she and John were condemning the 
 girl entirely on hearsay evidence. Several times 
 she timidly tried to lead the conversation to Ruth, 
 but the look on her son's face left the words dead 
 on her tongue. 
 
 So the woman worried and pined, and her worn 
 constitution weakened steadily, and when, a month 
 after John's operation when the new year was 
 scarcely a fortnight old she contracted a slight 
 cold, it became serious and developed into pneu- 
 monia. 
 
 John sat at her bedside day and night. Somehow 
 he knew long before the doctor had given up hope 
 that his mother would die. Strangely enough, 
 underneath the feeling of sorrow and loneliness, 
 lurked a sensation of relief. He had felt his moth- 
 er's silent disapproval very strongly, and now his
 
 262 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 hands would be free to deal with the world as he 
 wished. 
 
 At last Doctor Northall gave up hope. Laying 
 his hand on John's shoulder, he said : 
 
 "John, your mother is going; she will not last 
 until morning." 
 
 John nodded, not taking his eyes from the blood- 
 less face. At the very last she rallied, and drew 
 her son's head down onto the pillow. 
 
 " John," she whispered, " see Ruth promise." 
 
 Her lips moved unavailingly, and then he heard : 
 
 " Some mistake maybe see Ruth promise." 
 
 " There, there, mother ; everything is all right. 
 You will soon be better." 
 
 " Promise," she gasped. " I am dying 
 promise." 
 
 The look in her face wrenched at his heart. He 
 hesitated. 
 
 " Promise," she implored, clinging with frantic 
 strength to his hand. 
 
 " I promise," he said. 
 
 With a sigh she closed her eyes, and Death 
 stretched forth his hand and touched her.
 
 CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 RUTH LAWSON was still playing to crowded houses. 
 She was, if anything, more polished in her acting. 
 She sang as well, and danced as gracefully; yet 
 there was a something lacking, the something which 
 had made her reception so instantaneous on that 
 first night of " The Parisian Milliner." Only those 
 who had seen her then and afterwards returned 
 to see her again, noticed it, and even they were at 
 a loss to account for the difference. They went 
 away puzzled. One of these was Lorimer of The 
 Ledger. 
 
 " I can't explain it," he confided to a friend. 
 " In many ways she gives a more finished perform- 
 ance than on the opening night, but she has not 
 the same appeal she had then." 
 
 " I guess you liked her better then, because it was 
 the first time you saw the show. Now, it's an old 
 story to you." 
 
 Lorimer shook his head. "No; it isn't that. 
 Somehow she impressed me the first night as being 
 happy, light-hearted, and all that, but now well, 
 she doesn't, that's all." 
 
 " It must take a pile to make her happy, then," 
 263
 
 264 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 the friend retorted. " Most people could drag some 
 joy out of the fact that all New York was at their 
 feet, to say nothing of the salary she draws." 
 
 " So you think happiness can be bought like any 
 commodity? " 
 
 " I'd take a chance." 
 
 " Well, if you ever do, I hope you will not be 
 disappointed. But, just the same, I believe that 
 Ruth Lawson is unhappy. Don't ask me why I 
 think so, for I can't tell you, but that is my opinion." 
 
 Lorimer was right : Ruth was unhappy desper- 
 ately unhappy. She could draw no comfort from 
 her anomalous position. Rudolf had not returned, 
 she had not heard from him, did not even know 
 where he was, but every gleam of hope, every 
 kindly feeling for the man because of his absence, 
 every light-hearted thought that crept into her mind, 
 was instantly blighted by the dread of his return, 
 and that return might come at any moment. 
 
 Nor was it for herself alone that she was mis- 
 erable. As it had been with her ever since she 
 came to New York, she was oppressed by the fact 
 that she was not alone in her suffering. And as 
 she looked out over the city, the laughing, heed- 
 less city, she was filled with an immense yearning 
 to help, to do what she could to mitigate the misery 
 of the other side which she knew so well. And at 
 times a great anger against the metropolis filled her
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 265 
 
 mind. It seemed to her a city clinging to its blind- 
 ness as a protection against that which it does not 
 wish to see, a city filled with charities which serve 
 only to mask the true conditions, which act as a 
 salve to heal the surface of the foul growth lest 
 it offend the eyes of those who wish to remain in 
 simulated ignorance, while the malignant ulcer eats 
 and eats into the lives and morals of its victims 
 undisturbed. 
 
 Ruth's heart had grown very tender toward the 
 dregs, the outcasts of life, the life which shows 
 so bravely on the surface. She too, she felt, was 
 one of the outcasts; she too had been beaten down 
 in the struggle; and at times the misery of it all 
 swept over her with such force that she cringed 
 and cowered as under the lash. And so the days 
 dragged by. The new year was born in the death 
 of the old, the January thaw hardened to the Febru- 
 ary freeze, and now March had come in blusterous 
 and disagreeable. 
 
 One day Ruth's maid awakened her from her 
 morning nap. 
 
 " Miss Lory is here, madam. I did not wish to 
 disturb you, but she insists. What could I do?" 
 She spread out her hands in comical helplessness. 
 
 Ruth smiled. " Nothing, Celeste. If Miss Lory 
 insisted, I am sure you could do nothing but obey. 
 Tell her to come right in."
 
 266 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 " Say, Ruth," said Lory excitedly, " have you 
 heard from Harbury lately " 
 
 " No," answered Ruth. " Why ? " 
 
 "The devil!" 
 
 " What is it ? " cried Ruth, starting up in suf- 
 focating alarm. 
 
 " Well, I guess there's no use beating around 
 the bush. You know Doctor Barney, the surgeon 
 well, Jack met him last night and he said that he 
 had performed an operation on a patient by the 
 name of Lawson in Harbury, and the patient had 
 recovered his senses. It must have been John all 
 right." 
 
 Ruth's first exclamation was one of joy, but it 
 was checked almost before it was uttered. 
 
 " I know," said Lory sympathetically. " It's 
 fierce, isn't it? And the worst of it is that the op- 
 eration was performed in January, and here it is 
 March." 
 
 " In January ! " Ruth gasped. 
 
 Lory nodded her head. " Don't you see, dear, 
 he's heard a bunch of gossip, and he's sore, the sap- 
 head. Pity he couldn't come and see find out for 
 himself and after all you've been through for him. 
 Honest, Ruth, if I were you, I'd forget him he 
 isn't worth anything else." 
 
 Ruth heard Lory's voice dimly. The horrible 
 fact had struck her with crushing force. John had
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 267 
 
 not come. He was well again, and he had not 
 come. She buried her head in her hands. 
 
 Lory burst out in a string of abuse against the 
 man. 
 
 "Don't," Ruth pleaded. "Please don't, Lory. 
 He doesn't understand." 
 
 Lory relapsed into silence, sniffing disdainfully. 
 
 Ruth did not weep, she was too stunned, and a 
 decision was forming slowly in her breast. 
 
 " Lory," she said at last, looking up. " Lory, 
 I'm going to Harbury. I'm going to tell him every- 
 thing. I'm going to Harbury to-day." 
 
 " All right," Lory answered unenthusiastically. 
 " It isn't what I'd do, but maybe it's the best thing. 
 Do you want to go alone or shall I butt in as far 
 as the station in Harbury? I can wait for you 
 there." 
 
 " Oh, thank you, Lory but really I would rather 
 go alone I have so much to think over." 
 
 But Ruth did not go to Harbury. 
 
 It would be hard to marshal all the factors in 
 her decision not to go. Two contending forces 
 strove in her mind, the one demanding that she must 
 fly to John, to make him know how he had mis- 
 judged her, to regain his love, to feed her own upon 
 the sight of him. " Just to be with him," cried her 
 heart, " just to see him, and hear his voice." 
 
 Equally strong, the other force, the force of her
 
 268 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 common sense of that quality of the mind which 
 can discriminate exactly between desire and reason 
 opposed her going. In stern cross-examination 
 it challenged her sharply, asking what she would 
 tell John when she reached Harbury. 
 
 " Will you tell him the whole story, and have 
 him murder Rudolf and be executed as a murderer, 
 or will you tell him nothing just win back his love 
 by the force of your love and let the future take 
 care of itself? Will you break your compact with 
 Rudolf, or will you fulfill it, leaving John in igno- 
 rance? If so, how? " 
 
 Then, having shaken her with its brutal ques- 
 tionings, it directed at her unpleasant truths. " You 
 can't tell him all, and he will not be satisfied with 
 less. He is already suspicious, already he has con- 
 demned you; anything short of the whole truth 
 would only add to his certainty of your guilt, and 
 you dare not tell him all. You can't break your 
 compact with Rudolf. It was his money which kept 
 John from going to the asylum made possible the 
 operation which restored his mind. It was his 
 money which kept John's mother from the poor- 
 house, where she might have died from shame and 
 grief. No, you chose to make the sacrifice, you can- 
 not undo it, your choice." 
 
 But against this reasoning she struggled fran- 
 tically. She would see John, she must see him. He
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 269 
 
 would understand without her telling him all. She 
 would make him promise not to harm Rudolf. She 
 could soon pay Rudolf back the money he had sent 
 to Harbury. Maybe, when he found John was well, 
 he would release her. Maybe he would never come 
 back. Maybe 
 
 And so she strove, laboring distractedly with her- 
 self, arguing, pleading her right to see John, trying 
 to force fallacious arguments on her skeptical mind, 
 but in the end she was compelled to give up. 
 
 It was not until she was in the station and it 
 was nearly train time that she decided definitely 
 and irrevocably that she could not go, that one 
 more sacrifice was demanded of her, one more sac- 
 rifice and far from an easy one to bear. She must 
 be silent. Knowing as she did how high her motive, 
 which had led her into this compromising position, 
 had been, knowing how much she had sacrificed for 
 John, knowing how hard she had struggled and 
 striven to help him when he needed her, know- 
 ing all this she must be silent, and let him think 
 the worst of her, let him think that she valued fame 
 and luxury above her honor or his, that like a silly 
 girl she had been attracted by the baubles with 
 which the world tempts the weak and foolish. Yes, 
 she must keep silent and bear this additional 
 burden. 
 
 Anger against him, because he did not know her
 
 270 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 as she really was, that in spite of his knowledge 
 of her as a girl and afterwards as a woman and 
 wife, he doubted her, tried in vain to enter her 
 mind, but she repulsed it. 
 
 " John does not know," she told herself. " John 
 does not understand."
 
 CHAPTER XXX 
 
 As John Lawson progressed toward perfect health, 
 his bitterness and hardness increased, nor was the 
 self-confidence of the man lessened. His whole 
 overshadowing thoughts were, as they had been in 
 his early convalescence, devoted to his business fu- 
 ture. He erected in his mind mighty air castles, 
 but they were not, as on that May day so many 
 months ago, gorgeous and romantic, and filled with 
 peace and love and contentment. They were grim 
 and gray, with frowning turrets, bleak against a 
 lowering sky. His mother's death did not alter 
 a line of their architecture, nor did ever a thought 
 of Ruth, intruding itself against his will, change 
 an angle of their craggy magnificence. 
 
 He knew he would succeed. The blows dealt him 
 by Circumstance had only hardened the fiber of the 
 man; the two years of inaction should be made up 
 and speedily. He would open a store again in Har- 
 bury, but it would be merely transitory, a means 
 to an end, a stepping-stone to the greater things 
 which were to come, and which even now he looked 
 upon as realities. 
 
 His debt to Ruth had ceased to trouble him. 
 271
 
 272 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 With iron will he set it out of his thoughts. Some 
 day, of course, he would pay it back; and it still 
 gave him grim pleasure to think of sending it with- 
 out a line just the money and nothing more. 
 
 Yet, with all his hardness and bitterness, he was 
 careful to hide his feelings from his townspeople. 
 He wanted their trade, their help afterwards they 
 would find out what he thought of them. Perhaps 
 the most observant saw beneath the veneer of 
 friendliness, but they were few, and they were only 
 vaguely puzzled, and doubted their own surmises. 
 Besides, John's conduct in the matter of church- 
 going had made Harbury warm to him greatly, 
 for John had become religious, and that in a fashion 
 which they understood. 
 
 Before his accident he had tolerated religion, 
 nothing more. Now it held an important place in 
 his life. It was a hard, stern religion devoid of 
 any of the love and tenderness and forgiveness 
 which form so great a part of the teachings of 
 Jesus. It was culled from the very harshest pas- 
 sages of the Old Testament, and fostered by the 
 bitterness within him. Strange to say, it was never- 
 theless a solace and a reality to him. He was not 
 a hypocrite, he did not pretend what he did not 
 feel. He worshiped a god of iron and vengeance, 
 a wrathful, unrelenting being who held the great 
 world in his hand, much as John would like to
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 273 
 
 hold his little world in his hand, and dispensed jus- 
 tice, hard, cold justice, with an unrelenting severity. 
 Possibly in worshiping this deity of his own con- 
 trivance, John was but worshiping an emblem of 
 power; perhaps he seized upon this figurehead as a 
 lodestone to beckon him onward on his march to- 
 ward power. Or perhaps he wished to conciliate 
 this terrible being into showering blessings, worldly 
 blessings, upon him. Whatever the explanation, 
 John's religion was very real to him, and the church 
 edifice saw him in regular attendance every Sun- 
 day. So Harbury, looking no deeper than the sur- 
 face, and with admirable logic, concluded that his 
 catastrophe had been an act of Providence for his 
 regeneration, which would now progress very 
 nicely, since Ruth and her frivolity were not im- 
 peding his footsteps in the right direction. 
 
 It was shortly after the death of his mother that 
 John paid a visit to Doctor Northall. 
 
 " I want to go into business again," he said 
 directly. " I need money. Can you let me have 
 it? I will give you a share in the business or pay 
 any reasonable rate of interest. I believe the whole- 
 salers will carry me, but I need a certain amount of 
 cash." 
 
 "Certainly, John; certainly!" cried the older 
 man. " I should have offered it long before this, 
 only I did not want you to think too much about
 
 274 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 business before you were strong enough. How 
 much will you need?" 
 
 John hesitated. He had meant to ask for five 
 hundred dollars. 
 
 " I will need at least a thousand maybe more." 
 
 " I haven't got quite that much, John," said the 
 other regretfully. " I've only got seven hundred 
 and some odd, but you are welcome to that, and 
 maybe I can scrape up a little more later. Will 
 it be enough? " he asked anxiously. 
 
 John felt suddenly ashamed. A generous impulse 
 leaped to his heart, but he crushed it out. " I can 
 make it do. Thank you, doctor; you know how 
 much it means to me. And the rate of interest and 
 terms?" 
 
 " None at all, my boy ! " cried the other heartily. 
 " Pay me back when you can no hurry at all 
 and I certainly would not think of charging you 
 interest." The old man gazed fondly at the younger. 
 How often had Doctor Northall gazed fondly at 
 some man, woman, or child and given away his 
 little all ! Sometimes it had come back, more often 
 not, and now he had come down to his old age with 
 only seven hundred " and some odd " dollars be- 
 tween him and the world, but John, or anyone else, 
 might have them for the asking, with no interest, 
 paying them back when and how he chose or not 
 at all, giving no security or bond, and receive with
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 275 
 
 them the old man's blessing, and sorrow that he 
 had not more to give! 
 
 " John," said the doctor some time later, " have 
 you heard from Ruth ? " 
 
 " No," said John shortly. 
 
 " Have you written to her? " The doctor was 
 fumbling with a paper-cutter and looking over 
 John's head at a picture on the wall. 
 
 " No." 
 
 The doctor dropped his eyes to John's face. 
 ' You are wrong, John," he said kindly. " You 
 are young and you are hurt. Believe me, my boy, 
 I know just how badly you are hurt, but you ought 
 to write to her see her something you prom- 
 ised your mother " 
 
 " I would rather not talk about her," said John 
 coldly. 
 
 Doctor Northall sighed, and said no more. His 
 was not a persevering nature. 
 
 John left the doctor's office satisfied with his visit. 
 As he strode along, a smile lit up his face, a smile 
 of satisfaction to think how shrewdly he had man- 
 aged the situation how quickly he had increased 
 the amount of his request, how easily he had evaded 
 giving the old man a share in the business, and with 
 the satisfaction was a feeling of contempt for the 
 doctor's lack of business sagacity. And yet in the 
 man's soul there was an uneasiness the same old
 
 276 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 uneasiness that had been there so much of late. 
 It was in no way connected with Ruth, or with his 
 mother's death, or his financial condition. It was 
 a soul uneasiness, a stirring of a disregarded con- 
 science. It said to him vaguely : " You are on the 
 wrong track; you are starting on a path that leads 
 to the shriveled soul, the lonely, friendless life, the 
 death of your better self, the loss of everything 
 that makes life worth while." 
 
 " Nonsense," retorted the practical side of his 
 nature. " You are starting on a path that means 
 success, that will give you all the world has to 
 give wealth, prestige, power, greatness, every- 
 thing." 
 
 " They are nothing," urged the other. 
 
 " They are all I want now," said John out loud, 
 and he meant it. 
 
 Yet the unrest remained, but it was to grow 
 weaker day by day, smothered by the luxuriant crop 
 of weeds that were even now rooting themselves 
 firmly in the man's soul. 
 
 He continued homeward, planning with bold 
 strokes for the future. Only once did he think 
 of Ruth, and then it was only to be glad that, in 
 whatever success was to be his, she would have no 
 share.
 
 CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 BENJAMIN RUDOLF was at Palm Beach, where he 
 had come immediately after leaving Ruth. It is 
 impossible to say whether there was more of satis- 
 faction for his impulsive action in the man's mind, 
 or contempt for himself because of it. At times 
 he had idealistic dreams in which Ruth, the central 
 figure, occupied the position of a canonical saint, 
 while he worshiped respectfully, from a distance, 
 at her shrine. In these moods he would plan what 
 he would do for her, unobtrusively, asking no re- 
 ward, content merely with her friendship, and some 
 day she would recognize his love for her and re- 
 spond to it. For, in his highest flights of idealism, 
 Rudolf never lost hold of the belief that some time 
 Ruth must come to love him. In fact, all his ideal- 
 ism was to be more or less of a pose to impress 
 her, yet who can say that it would be the worse 
 for that? 
 
 At other times, however, he regretted exceedingly 
 his course. He called himself a fool, and accused 
 himself of melodrama. Especially did he hold 
 in contempt his leaving without seeing her again. 
 Yet in reality it was the one absolutely unselfish, 
 
 277
 
 278 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 the one absolutely pure, the one absolutely god- 
 like act of his life. Shaken to the foundation of 
 his mind, by her plight, and the realization of what 
 she was suffering because of him, he had shed self, 
 and risen to greater heights than he knew. Now, 
 the normal Benjamin Rudolf looked back at the 
 moment skeptically and doubted his sincerity. 
 
 Palm Beach did not distract him ; the gayety, the 
 life, the lights, the music, the ever paraded insist- 
 ence that joy and amusement were the chief ends 
 of life, wearied him. He was in no mood to enter 
 into the outward show of pleasure, and he wanted 
 to go back, he wanted to see Ruth. He promised 
 himself time and again, if he went back, he would 
 content himself with the role of friend all he 
 wanted was to speak to her, to hear her voice, to 
 gaze upon her, and feast his eyes upon her beauty. 
 But, if the man's natural skepticism of himself had 
 taken away the laurels for his good action, it was 
 no less ready to strip naked his promises. Ru- 
 dolf knew in his soul that his only safety lay in 
 staying away from Ruth for the present. 
 
 And yet, underneath it all, the man's character 
 had developed to a remarkably high point, consid- 
 ering his beginning. He was still far from the 
 heights, but he was nevertheless even more distant 
 from the depths in which he had been wallowing 
 when Ruth came into his life. The animal lust for
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 279 
 
 her had changed first to a low order of love, which 
 had slowly but surely grown finer in texture, until 
 now it was not to be discounted. Yet, in spite of 
 the prevailing opinion that a man looks with com- 
 placence on the good that is in him, and belittles the 
 bad, Rudolf did not realize his own gain. He felt 
 that whatever purer motives he now held were forced 
 upon him by the necessity for becoming more 
 worthy in Ruth's eyes. Perhaps he was right. 
 
 At any rate, there had been born in his mind 
 a scheme which would have far-reaching effects on 
 both his and Ruth's life. That afternoon he had 
 written to a manager who was to put on a play 
 similar in character to " The Parisian Milliner," 
 and suggested that he make an offer to Ruth to 
 take the leading part. He had no doubt the man 
 would do this. Ruth's presence in a production now 
 guaranteed its success, and Rudolf would advise 
 her to accept. 
 
 Thus would all their business relations be sev- 
 ered at a stroke; he would come to her an out- 
 sider, he would win her if he could from no point 
 of advantage. Perhaps her husband would die; 
 perhaps some day she would consent to a divorce; 
 perhaps, although he doubted it, she would come 
 to love him enough to scorn the conventions. The 
 man believed in his star, he believed in his destiny. 
 With the intense optimism of his race, that opti-
 
 280 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 mism which has upborne it through centuries of 
 the crudest persecution, dashing again and again 
 its ever-rebuilding exertions to the ground, he was 
 sure that somehow he would succeed. 
 
 And he wanted Ruth wanted her just as vehe- 
 mently as he had at first, but now he wanted her 
 to come to him,- willingly; yes, more, he wanted 
 her to crave him as he was craving her. And some- 
 times he felt she would. 
 
 To-night, as he was sitting, his mind deep in 
 thought, his eyes roamed wanderingly over the 
 kaleidoscopic picture of constantly passing and re- 
 passing people, brilliantly dressed women, beauti- 
 ful to look upon, men in the conventional evening 
 clothes, young girls in the freshest of dainty cos- 
 tumes, with yet something older, some vague lack- 
 ing of freshness, in their faces. His eyes were ar- 
 rested by a well-set-up figure of a man. He rose 
 and walked toward him : 
 
 " Hello, Horace ! Didn't know you were in 
 society." 
 
 Doctor Barney snorted. " Can't figure why I 
 came to this crazy-headed place. Was a little tired, 
 and needed a rest. Got a fool idea that Palm 
 Beaches were beaches and palms Nature all that 
 stuff. First time I have ever been here. Of course, 
 I ought to have known better did know better 
 but, anyway, here I am."
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 281 
 
 Rudolf laughed. " When did you come down? " 
 
 " Got here last night, and you ? " 
 
 " Oh, I've been here some time, couple of months 
 or so." 
 
 " Well, you must have a strong constitution. 
 Smoke?" 
 
 " Thanks, but I've just finished." 
 
 Doctor Barney lighted a cigar and puffed com- 
 fortably. " Great thing, tobacco. Great mind who 
 first invented it who was it, Columbus? No 
 Raleigh? no now who the devil was it? Rudy, 
 you ought to know. Saw your star show the other 
 night. Good fine! That Ruth Lawson's the best 
 I ever saw. Ever hear about that operation I per- 
 formed for clot at the base of the brain? Weigman 
 said it couldn't be done. Name of Lawson re- 
 minded me chap by same name up in a little one- 
 horse town in Massachusetts. Entire success. Pa- 
 tient's as well as ever. Weigman was wild. Claims 
 now he never said it couldn't be done." 
 
 The doctor chuckled gleefully, not noticing the 
 strained attention of his hearer. 
 
 " What did you say the man's name is ? " Ru- 
 dolf asked, his voice well under control. 
 
 " John Lawson same name as your star. Can't 
 be, by Jove! Yes, it is! First thing he came out 
 from under the ether, he said, ' Ruth sister wife ' 
 what relation are they, do you know, Rudy ? "
 
 282 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 " I have an idea he's Miss Lawson's brother," 
 Rudolf lied calmly. 
 
 Shortly afterwards he yawned, made some ex- 
 cuse of fatigue, and went to his room to retire. 
 
 But he did not retire. Instead he hastily packed 
 his things, and the night train saw him on his way 
 to New York.
 
 CHAPTER XXXII 
 
 RUDOLF reached New York in a reckless mood, 
 his mind full of ugly thoughts. Once more Fate 
 had stepped in and thwarted him. All the recon- 
 struction of the last year had dropped from him, 
 but in its desertion it could not immediately coarsen 
 back to its original flabbiness his conscience. That 
 would come later. The mind may change at a 
 bound, but character changes slowly, and con- 
 science, that silent monitor whose approval or dis- 
 approval is absolutely apart from anything which 
 the reason or will or desire may urge, changes last 
 of all. 
 
 So Rudolf arrived in the city a man half crazed 
 by his wild desires, his sense of the injustice of 
 Fate. He had asked only for time; he was being 
 honorable, he was denying himself even the pleas- 
 ure of Ruth's company, he was conducting himself 
 in a perfectly irreproachable manner, and here came 
 Fate dragging into the game, in an entirely unwar- 
 rantable fashion, the husband. Ruth, no doubt, 
 would return to Harbury, return to her grocery- 
 store man, to the ridiculous narrow village, and 
 finish her life among sordid, uninteresting surround-
 
 284 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 ings, while he, Benjamin Rudolf, who could give 
 her the best in the world, would be forced tc go 
 without her, live his life vainly yearning for her. 
 No, it could not be he would fight, fight every 
 inch of the way! 
 
 And with these thoughts came anger against 
 Ruth. Why was she so narrow ? Why couldn't she 
 be broad enough to ignore the conventions? Their 
 lives could be a veritable paradise on earth 
 
 He drove at once to her hotel. Ruth pale, fear- 
 ful, agitated received him. At the sight of her, 
 he almost gasped. Could this sad-eyed woman, 
 with deep lines under her eyes yes, even with the 
 freshness of youth fading from her face be the 
 Sylvia who had tripped so smilingly out to receive 
 the acclaim of the audience on the first night of 
 " The Parisian Milliner " only last September? But 
 he checked the utterance of sympathy that sprang 
 to his lips. He thrust out the accusing torment 
 that leaped into his breast. 
 
 "What do you hear from your husband?" he 
 asked gruffly. 
 
 " Nothing," she said in a low tone. 
 
 "Nothing!" His tone was a blend of incredu- 
 lity for the statement, anger and contempt for the 
 man. 
 
 Ruth hastened to John's defense. " He does not 
 understand," she said. " He has heard gossip
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 285 
 
 you know what a country village is. He does not 
 know." 
 
 "You have written?" 
 
 She shook her head. " I couldn't explain " 
 
 He fell to pacing the room. " You mean you 
 couldn't explain me no, I see you couldn't." He 
 was silent for a moment. 
 
 " Sylvia," he burst out passionately, " give him 
 up he isn't worth it. A man who doesn't care 
 enough for his wife to come and find out is a low 
 sort of animal. Why can't you forget him, rise 
 above it? There is lots in life for you yet. You 
 are young, everything is before you. Even if he 
 * understood,' as you say, could you ever be happy 
 in Harbury living with such a man? Remember, 
 it was different before; you were a country girl, 
 you were, you must have been by the very forces 
 of your environment narrow and provincial. Now 
 you are broad, you have tasted the larger things 
 of life. You have been a dweller in the city. 
 Would Harbury content you now ? " 
 " Yes," she said, " with John yes." 
 The man was exasperated. " John ! What has 
 he done? You left Harbury to work for him, you 
 sacrificed everything for him. What has he done 
 in return ? Cast you off because of gossip." 
 
 " If he knew," she said proudly, " he would not." 
 "Oh, of course!" he said sarcastically, "if he
 
 286 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 knew that in your supremest sacrifice you just 
 missed going over the brink, but not unless, Syl- 
 via. If you had committed what a man of his 
 narrow mind would call sin, he would never take 
 you back." 
 
 " He would ! " she cried vehemently. " He would 
 if he knew the circumstances." 
 
 " Never ! " he reiterated. " He would never do 
 it. His New England horror would be too strong. 
 Inherited male tradition, coming down through 
 countless centuries, would have too great influence 
 with a mind like his. No, no, Sylvia, he would 
 never do it! He would not even believe your 
 ' circumstances ' ! " 
 
 " He would ! " she cried, fighting the fear in her 
 breast. 
 
 " Are you willing to put him to the test ? " 
 
 " What do you mean ? " she asked. 
 
 Rudolf was suddenly calm. The intense egoism 
 of the man, the belief in his destiny, his star, had 
 shown him a path, a narrow path it was, winding 
 in and out among disastrous-looking cliffs, skirt- 
 ing abysses of failure and rushing streams of deso- 
 lation, but a path nevertheless. He believed he 
 could traverse it successfully, and, if he could, it 
 would lead him safely out of the present difficult 
 situation. 
 
 " This," he said earnestly. " I will admit that
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 287 
 
 if John, hearing everything, and believing that you 
 sacrificed yourself for him, wants you as much as 
 he did before you were married, if he feels that 
 whatever came to you was his fault, that all his 
 life he can never make it up to you, if he believes 
 your story absolutely, without proof of any kind, 
 then I will say that I am misjudging him that he 
 is worthy of you. But he will not," he added with 
 a short laugh. 
 
 " I don't understand, yet," she said, bewildered. 
 
 "No?" he said lightly. "Well, I'll explain. 
 There are two things only which you need to un- 
 derstand. First, forget all that occurred on the 
 first night of ' The Parisian Milliner.' Forget the 
 money I sent to Harbury. I release you absolutely 
 from any obligation which you may feel it in- 
 volved." 
 
 She started up with a cry of joy. " You 
 mean " 
 
 " Yes," he returned, smiling. " Rather the re- 
 turn of the prodigal in a way, isn't it?" 
 
 " Oh, how can I thank you ! " 
 
 " For letting you climb out of the mud puddle 
 I pushed you into? It is noble, isn't it? " 
 
 " You must not talk that way. If you knew " 
 
 " Secondly," he interrupted, " you will go to 
 John to-morrow and tell him everything every lit- 
 tle detail about your life in New York, except that
 
 288 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 you must appear to him pardon me, Sylvia as a 
 fallen woman." 
 
 " Yes," she said, her eyes shining, " it will be a 
 test. I see it will be the one test that will wipe 
 out the past forever. But afterwards I may tell 
 him? Afterwards I may tell him the truth?" 
 
 " Afterwards you may tell him the truth if he'll 
 let you." 
 
 " Oh, he will! " she cried joyfully. " John will 
 understand." 
 
 " Just one word more," he said, going to the 
 door, pausing with his hand on the knob. " Un- 
 less he accepts you unreservedly, unless he feels that 
 you are entirely guiltless, unless he believes your 
 story implicitly, then you are not to return to him 
 do you promise?" 
 
 " But he will. I know " 
 
 " Do you promise ? " 
 
 " Yes," she said.
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII 
 
 THE train bearing Ruth Lawson was nearing Har- 
 bury. All day her mind had been in a state of 
 exaltation. Rudolf's act in releasing her from 
 all obligations to him had left her a free woman 
 again. The joy of her escape was only less keen 
 than the joy of the anticipated meeting with John. 
 For a moment, the night before, when Rudolf had 
 been so positive in his statement that John would 
 not understand, would refuse to take her back, 
 would disbelieve her story, fear had clutched at her 
 heart, but with the morning it was dissipated, and 
 now she looked forward to seeing her husband with 
 no dread. Supreme in her own knowledge of in- 
 nocence, she felt that he could adopt only the one 
 course that of love and contrition and sorrow that 
 she had been through such terrible experiences. 
 
 And, on the whole, she was glad Rudolf had 
 suggested the test. Strive as she would, her mind 
 had harbored a shade of resentment against John 
 for remaining silent, for not coming to see her 
 as soon as he was able. But now, as soon as he 
 had stood the test, and she knew he would, all 
 that would be wiped out. She would feel that, no 
 
 a8 9
 
 290 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 matter what might have happened to her, no mat- 
 ter what she might have been, no matter how she 
 might have dishonored, technically, his name, his 
 love for her would have survived. And then as 
 soon as he should show the nobility of his char- 
 acter, his broad-mindedness, and refute Rudolf's 
 mis judgment, then she could tell him the truth, the 
 blessed wonderful truth. At times tears of joy 
 stood in her eyes. 
 
 The train swept shrieking around a curve, and 
 came within sight of Harbury. Ruth strained her 
 eyes for the old familiar landmarks. There was 
 the brook, there the wide fields of the Braddock 
 farm, and there the Braddock mansion itself, but, 
 no, that could not be it, that little, stiff brick house 
 on the hill. Ruth had remembered it as an impos- 
 ing edifice. Now it seemed shrunken to a quarter 
 of its former size. She stared at it in wonder, 
 but a succession of houses, which she remembered, 
 swept by, and no one of them tallied with the pic- 
 ture in her memory. Only Nature remained the 
 same, or even more imposing, for the broad sweep 
 and roll of the land, the wooded hill, the bare gaunt- 
 ness of the yet unfoliaged trees, spoke to her with 
 a restful grandeur she never felt in her girlhood 
 days. 
 
 " Harb'ry ! " shouted the brakeman. 
 
 Ruth drew a long breath and rose. As she de-
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 291 
 
 scended to the station platform, it seemed to her 
 ages since she had left this village, yet in reality 
 it was less than two years, but those two years had 
 held a lifetime of living, of suffering, of emotion, 
 of knowledge of the world. She had left Har- 
 bury, innocent with the innocence of ignorance, the 
 innocence coming from absence of temptation. She 
 returned innocent, having been tried in the fire of 
 the world's fiercest temptations. She had left Har- 
 bury as a girl, she came back a woman. Ruth was 
 prone to think of herself as old, or at least middle- 
 aged. As a matter of fact, she was just over 
 twenty-two. 
 
 As Ruth passed through the station into the 
 street, she came suddenly on Mrs. Braddock, sail- 
 ing majestically along, a stately brig propelled by 
 a favoring wind. But the sight of Ruth was like 
 a squall coming suddenly out of a clear sky. Taken 
 aback, she stopped, quivered, reared high her head, 
 and sheered violently to one side, and continued on 
 her voyage bobbingly as over a choppy sea. 
 
 Ruth stood staring after her; there was no mis- 
 taking her attitude, recognition had shown on her 
 face, quickly followed by horror, contempt any 
 number of cruel emotions. 
 
 The girl paled, then pulling herself together, con- 
 tinued on her way. But she was shaken to the 
 depths of her being. No matter how one prepares
 
 292 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 one's self to meet social ostracism, the blow falls 
 heavily and, as it were, unexpectedly. To see 
 faces, which once were friendly, respectful, change 
 into masks of indifference, to see the courteous in- 
 clination of the head change to a contemptuous up- 
 lift, to hear silence in place of the word of greeting, 
 is possibly one of the hardest things which human 
 beings are called upon to bear in this world. 
 
 Suddenly Ruth saw Harbury as it was narrow, 
 bigoted, not understanding, confirmed in the be- 
 lief that its little world was all, that its views on 
 life were the last word, determined that the hem 
 of its ridiculous misproportioned garment must be 
 kept from contamination at any price. The very 
 streets themselves, narrow and straight, the houses 
 stiff and unbeautiful, yes, the very atmosphere was 
 laden with that indefinable something, that exag- 
 gerated, false perspectived, code of morals the 
 New England conscience. And, in this moment, 
 doubts of John's ever being able to understand came 
 over her in overwhelming force. She shivered. 
 
 Mrs. Braddock had taken a direction at right 
 angles to that in which Ruth was going, yet had 
 she hastened on ahead with the outrageous news 
 the effect could not have been different. It seemed 
 to Ruth as if the news of her coming must cer- 
 tainly have preceded her. The few people on the 
 street, figures she knew well, scurried to cover
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 293 
 
 as she approached, and once, turning around, im- 
 pelled by a sudden curiosity, she beheld little groups 
 here and there watching her from a safe distance. 
 
 She had intended asking to be directed to John, 
 but now there was no one to ask. Ridiculous prob- 
 lem as it was, it was nevertheless real; she had 
 come all the way from New York to be temporarily 
 thwarted at this point by an absurd contingency. 
 Still she might go into a store and ask. She was 
 nerving herself to it, when some one came with 
 quick strides from behind and a voice sounded in 
 her ear : 
 
 " Why, Ruth how are ye, Ruth? " 
 
 " Finn ! " she cried, her heart leaping in pleasure. 
 
 " Ye ain't changed a mite," he asserted. 
 
 Ruth smiled, but her smile was very sad. Then a 
 thought struck her. 
 
 " I must hurry along now," she said. " Where 
 can I find John ? " 
 
 " I cal'late I'll go along and show ye, Ruth." 
 
 " No, Finn, you mustn't," she said gravely. 
 " You must not. People will " 
 
 Finn raised his voice in anger. " Can ye stand 
 plain words, ma'am ? " 
 
 Ruth nodded. 
 
 " People be damned ! " 
 
 She laughed. " Finn, that is an awful thing to 
 say out loud, here in Harbury."
 
 294 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 Finn's jaw protruded stubbornly. " Come on," 
 he said, " I'll take you to John. He's got a new 
 store now just fixin' it up. 'Pears like ye just 
 can't keep John Lawson down, ma'am no, ma'am ! 
 As soon as he was out of bed, he was startin' only 
 a little back of where he had left off." 
 
 Ruth did not answer. Harbury's attitude had 
 cast a cloud over her hopes. Would John rise 
 above his environment? In the light of her new 
 doubt, all the opening sentences, with which she 
 had planned to greet him, seemed foolish, out of 
 place. She wondered what she could say. 
 
 John's store was on the main street, two doors 
 below where Sam Brunt's sign proclaimed the 
 Model Grocery. Sam stood and watched her pass 
 without a sign of recognition. Then he stepped 
 out onto the sidewalk and watched her go into 
 John's place. Finn stayed outside. He scowled 
 at Sam, and checked an utterance which seemed to 
 be on the end of the man's tongue. 
 
 In a moment Ruth came out. " He's not there," 
 she said in a bewildered, tired voice, the sudden 
 snap of her tension leaving her weary and burned 
 out. " He's not there, Finn. Where " 
 
 " Course he's not there," Sam called derisively. 
 " He heard you was comin'. He's gone."
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV 
 
 LORY was worried about Ruth. Ruth had taken 
 the rebuff much more calmly than, Lory felt, the 
 situation demanded; she herself had experienced a 
 terrific burst of anger when she heard of it. In- 
 deed, Ruth had relapsed into an apathetic state of 
 mind, and this attitude frightened Lory much more 
 than tears and raging would have done. 
 
 Now Lory was trying to cheer Ruth up, and 
 the sight of the girl, pale and haggard, with dark 
 rings under her eyes, sitting in the big chair quietly, 
 her suffering eyes fixed on Lory's, hearing without 
 comment the latter's highly colored version of her 
 recent doings, filled Lory's mind with foreboding, 
 in whicH there was just a trace of annoyance. 
 
 " See here, Ruth," she said abruptly, " you've 
 just got to pull out of this you've got to. You've 
 done exactly right, and you know it, and I know it, 
 and everybody knows it, except your husband, and 
 he's too thick-headed even to want to know." 
 
 "I know," said Ruth wearily, "I do try, 
 but " 
 
 " But nothing ! " exclaimed Lory. " You've got 
 to. Now just let's take a look at it from an out- 
 
 295
 
 296 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 side standpoint. I saw something in a book, the 
 other day. It said, ' Stand aside, and watch your- 
 self go by.' Get that? Pretty good, isn't it ? Well, 
 let's do it on your case. 
 
 " Here's a Hannah Brown, comes to New York 
 looking for work, and can't connect. Hannah's 
 got a family to support. Tries hard to get a job 
 can't do it. Finally she does get one, a good one, 
 one that will fix her family up in fine shape, but 
 she finds it's tagged with a price. Won't pay it, 
 don't want to pay it, but the folks need money, 
 so she does. You didn't have to, thank God, but 
 your husband thinks you did. Hannah did have 
 to. Well, what of it? Hannah's a pretty good, 
 self-sacrificing girl, isn't she? Sure she is you 
 know that, so do I, so does God, if there is one. He 
 marks Hannah's name way up top and lays aside 
 a couple of harps for her when she gets there. 
 That's good common sense, isn't it? Just stop me 
 if I blow any slush into this; all I want to do is 
 to talk horse sense. 
 
 " Well, so far so good. Now Hannah was mar- 
 ried. Her husband was sick, that's the main reason 
 she came to New York to work. He gets well, and 
 gossip fills him up to the brim with what Hannah's 
 been doing while he was sick. Tears his hair, can't 
 understand Hannah, never thought Hannah would 
 do such a thing, flabbergasted, nutty. See? Says
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 297 
 
 he don't ever want to see her again, won't even go 
 to her and find out why, where, and how. Too sore 
 to bother with her at all. Well, maybe there's some- 
 thing to be said for him, having such a little two- 
 by-four, twisted head-piece, but his being that par- 
 ticular kind of a worm puts him out of Hannah's 
 class. She is big and broad and good and sensible. 
 She did right, although it looked wrong. He is 
 doing wrong just because it looks right. See the 
 difference? Now here's the point. Listening, 
 Ruth?" 
 
 Ruth nodded. 
 
 " Well, then, here's the point. Here's where 
 Hannah comes to a stone wall. She's young yet, 
 say, twenty-two or so, and her life is ruined, and 
 her husband has thrown her down, and she feels 
 like the devil, and she's bang up against a stone 
 wall. Now the easiest thing for Hannah to do is 
 to stay right where she is, on her side of the stone 
 wall, and keep looking back, and wishing things 
 had been different. You see, that's the thing she 
 would be tempted to do, for her mind and heart are 
 plumb full of her side of the stone wall pictures. 
 So she can stay on her side and mope around, make 
 herself miserable, give her friends a pain, do no- 
 body any good, and grow old in a year, and look 
 like sin. That's the easiest thing for Hannah to do. 
 
 " But there's another bet, and Hannah can take
 
 298 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 it, Ruth." The girl's tones sank to the deepest 
 earnestness. " Ruth, dear, Hannah can get over 
 the wall. She can climb plumb over the wall, and 
 never peep back over it. She can toddle out ahead 
 into new diggings and be as happy and successful 
 as if nothing had happened. It's what you can do, 
 Ruth; it's what you ought to do. Look here, you 
 said you had a letter from the ' Chocolate Man ' 
 people about that part for next season. Take it. 
 Cut Rudolf and me and Jack and Morry and the 
 rest, if it will help to keep you from peeping back 
 over the wall. Begin here, now, right plumb off, 
 to carve out a new life. Put your memory in cold 
 storage and forget everything but the present and 
 the future. See ? " 
 
 Ruth sat silent, for a long time, but youth and a 
 strong character were arraying themselves on 
 Lory's side. Yes, she would climb over the wall, 
 she would make a new life for herself, she would 
 gain success, happiness, she would not be cheated 
 out of them by the circumstances that had crushed 
 her down. Her face flushed, and her hands on the 
 arms of her chair clenched. 
 
 " You're going to do it, kid ! " cried Lory delight- 
 edly. " I can see it in your face you're going to 
 do it!" 
 
 Ruth laughed, her eyes shining. " I'll do it un- 
 der one condition, Lory."
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 299 
 
 " Name it it's yours. Ask me for my new hat 
 you can have it." 
 
 "If you and Jack and Rudolf and the rest will 
 help me." 
 
 Lory departed before noon, she was to meet Jack 
 for luncheon downtown, and Ruth dressed and 
 went down to the dining-room for her lunch, the 
 first time for many a day she had taken a meal out- 
 side her apartments. All the time she was pondering 
 over Lory's advice. Yes, Lory was right, the stone 
 wall was high, but she could get over it, she must 
 get over it. It was not only for herself, but her 
 friends. How kind Lory had been, and Jack, and 
 how noble Rudolf was! 
 
 In these last few days, Ruth had been compelled 
 completely to alter her opinion of Benjamin Ru- 
 dolf. He was wonderful. It seemed as if the whole 
 of his conduct toward her from the opening night 
 of " The Parisian Milliner " had been blotted out, 
 had been but a bad dream. Had he been mad 
 and suddenly returned to sanity? Or was not his 
 present attitude something above ordinary sanity? 
 Ruth's knowledge of the city, of men and their 
 ways, inclined her to think that it was. 
 
 Later in the day Rudolf called. 
 
 " And how is Sylvia to-day? " he asked, his old 
 customary greeting.
 
 300 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 " Very well," she answered brightly. 
 
 He was surprised at her tone. An instant fear 
 that she had heard from John entered his mind, 
 but her next words reassured him : 
 
 " Lory has been giving me a talking to, and it 
 has done me good. She says I must stop look- 
 ing back, and look forward, and, incidentally, stop 
 imposing my troubles on my friends." 
 
 " Lory is a wonderful girl," replied Rudolf, re- 
 lieved. " But your troubles, you must not try to 
 keep them to yourself, Sylvia they go away sooner 
 if you share them." 
 
 " You are always so kind," she said earnestly. 
 " I wonder if you realize how kind." 
 
 He winced. " Please " 
 
 " Oh ! I know, but that is all in the past now, gone 
 and forgotten." 
 
 " Yet the trail of the serpent remains." 
 
 " I wonder," she said half sadly, " I wonder will 
 it ever vanish but, no," she continued in a differ- 
 ent tone, " we must not think of it. It is of the 
 future I want to think. So you would advise me 
 to accept the offer of the lead in the ' Chocolate 
 Man'?" 
 
 " Unquestionably." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " Because," he answered promptly, " it is not 
 well for a star to be under one management too
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 301 
 
 long. Especially you under mine. Even yet some 
 people are attributing your success to favoritism 
 of some sort, though how they figure it I don't 
 know. Usually the box-office receipts are indis- 
 putable." 
 
 " That sounds well," she said, smiling quietly. 
 " What is your real reason ? " 
 
 " Will you excuse me from answering that ques- 
 tion?" 
 
 "No; I want to find out your reason." 
 
 " Well, then, it is because I want to be merely 
 your friend and not your manager. It is a very 
 high ambition, Sylvia, to be your friend." There 
 was a trace of wistfulness in his voice. 
 
 " So you wrote to Girard and Company and told 
 them to make me an offer ? " 
 
 He laughed. " Yes, and now I have confessed 
 all of my sins." 
 
 She was quiet for a long time. 
 
 When she spoke again it was about a book which 
 she was reading.
 
 CHAPTER XXXV 
 
 RUTH'S visit caused Harbury to do a strange 
 thing, and yet it came about in a perfectly natural 
 way. Harbury knew that Ruth had come to see 
 John, and it expected a luscious scene. " What did 
 she say? What did he say? " were questions ready 
 on every tongue. Somehow the news would be 
 sure to leak out. And when Harbury found that 
 John had avoided seeing Ruth, and thus cheated it 
 out of its desired scandal, it was justly indignant. 
 Then one of its inhabitants remarked, " I wouldn't 
 'a' treated a dog thataway." 
 
 " No," replied another. " Anyways, how does 
 he know that all this here gossip is true? " 
 
 Thus there issued a tiny spiral of smoke, which 
 presently developed into a flame, which in its turn 
 rapidly assumed the proportions of a conflagration. 
 Directly in its path was John Lawson. He felt 
 the heat of it long before any word was spoken to 
 him, felt it in the lack of fervor in his next morn- 
 ing's greetings, felt it in the diminished trade for 
 the day, and, besides, he felt it in his own inner 
 consciousness. For John knew even when he was 
 avoiding Ruth that he was making a mistake, but 
 
 302
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 303 
 
 in a sudden weakness he had allowed his sudden 
 distaste for seeing her to get the better of his 
 judgment. Whatever the outcome might have been, 
 it would have been better to have had the meeting, 
 and had it over with. Had his fellow-townsmen 
 vindicated his action, probably he soon would have 
 been reassured, but, as it was, he was forced to de- 
 fend his conduct to himself, and thus view it, as it 
 were, through hostile eyes. 
 
 In the center of the conflagration, fanning it with 
 heated words, was Finn Jones. The man's anger 
 was thoroughly aroused. He, more than anyone 
 else, had been in a position to see the effects of 
 John's action. He had helped Ruth, trembling, 
 righting back the tears, trying not to let him see 
 how deeply she was wounded, back to the station 
 and put her on a train, which, providentially, was 
 scheduled for that hour of the day, and so now 
 he was a leader of opinion against John. Accord- 
 ing to him, riding John out of town on a rail would 
 be none too severe a punishment. 
 
 " Ain't it the right of every cit'zen to have a 
 defense?" he cried, waving his arms. "Ain't it 
 in the Constitution? Suppose everybody was 
 jedged by old women's gossip, where would any of 
 us be? No, sir; I cal'late John Lawson thinks he's 
 pretty smart, but I say he ain't no man to treat 
 his wife that way."
 
 304 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 " 'Specially after the way she worked and slaved 
 fer him," said another. 
 
 "And that's another p'int," said Finn. "We 
 kin remember all about what took place after the 
 accident. We kin remember the way she run 
 around lookin' fer work, and when she couldn't git 
 it, hiked off to New York, jest as plucky as could 
 be. Whose fault is it, whatever she done, any- 
 way? If John hadn't been so crazy, drivin' that 
 horse, nothin' of the kind would 'a' happened, 
 would it?" 
 
 And so it went, but it remained for Doctor 
 Northall mild, retiring Doctor Northall to clinch 
 matters. " Beware of the anger of sheep," says an 
 ancient proverb. 
 
 He walked brusquely into John's store at closing 
 time. " Something to say to you, John," he said 
 sharply. " Hurry and close up, I can't wait." John 
 wondered at the tone. 
 
 " All right," he answered " in a minute." 
 
 He closed the store, and ushered his visitor to 
 the back room, in which he slept. The older man 
 closed the door. 
 
 " I want to know why you didn't see Ruth yes- 
 terday. What's gotten into you, John? You're 
 behaving like a child, and a damned bad child at 
 that." 
 
 " That's my business," said John stiffly.
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 305 
 
 " Your business, is it ! " roared the other. " Then, 
 by Granny! that money I loaned you is my busi- 
 ness and you'll pay it back. Your business, in- 
 deed, you impudent young whelp! I'm old enough 
 to be your father, and you talk about your busi- 
 ness to me! Didn't I see Ruth when you were 
 lying on your back, helpless, working her life out 
 for you, you big lumbering hulk, and yet you talk 
 of your business ! " 
 
 John said nothing. He sat, his eyes moodily on 
 the floor, but his jaw was set, and he was the pic- 
 ture of stubbornness. 
 
 The old man stormed around the little room for 
 a brief time, and then his anger began to melt: 
 
 " Look here, my boy," he said more gently. 
 " Don't you know you are on the wrong track, 
 don't you know that it was your duty to see Ruth, 
 and hear what she had to say ? Remember you have 
 been judging her without hearing her side at all. 
 There may have been some terrible mistake. Be- 
 sides, John, you promised your mother, you prom- 
 ised her on her deathbed, and that is just the one 
 promise no man can break and still be called a 
 man. Now admit it, John, you were wrong. Do 
 all you can to rectify it. Go to New York like a 
 man and hear Ruth's side, and then act accordingly, 
 but be kind, John, be kind. Just because you're 
 hurt, don't be cruel; there's a sight of cruelty in
 
 3 o6 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 this world and not half enough kindness; help tip 
 the scales the other way a - little." 
 
 John was silent for a while. " You're right, 
 doctor," he said at last. " I will go to New York 
 and see Ruth the first day I can get away from 
 business." 
 
 The old man started to say something, but 
 checked himself. Then he shook John's hand and 
 went out. At the door he paused. " Oh, John ! 
 About that money, that was only a bad-temper 
 speech I did not mean it." 
 
 Soon it became circulated about that John was 
 going to New York to see his wife, and the ani- 
 mosity of the town died down, but speculation was 
 rife, and even some bets of a modest character 
 passed as to whether she would return with him. 
 The bettors holding the affirmative, however, de- 
 manded odds. 
 
 John should not be judged too harshly. To the 
 man in his position as the position disclosed it- 
 self to his belief there are only two courses open: 
 either the erring woman shall be taken back with- 
 out an atom of reserve, without a reproach or sign 
 of the past's having existed, or she shall not be 
 taken back at all. There is no intermediate course. 
 And John was temperamentally, and by virtue of 
 his education and environment, unable to do the 
 first. Every atom of his being cried out against
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 307 
 
 it, and yet he hated himself for his feeling. In 
 fact, this self-hatred was the basis of his harshness 
 against her. Let a man but be sure he is right, 
 and he is mild, temperate in his thoughts and speech. 
 The blusterer, the intemperate of utterance, the bru- 
 tal of action, is the doubter of his own mind. 
 
 It was some days before John appointed a time 
 to go to New York, and then the time set was a 
 week off. He wanted to be ready, he told himself, 
 to be prepared. He wanted to settle in his mind 
 just what he should say in case Ruth took the one 
 course, and was shameless and defiant in her sin, 
 blaming him and circumstances; or, on the other 
 hand, penitent and begging to be forgiven. His 
 belief that she had yielded to a craving for luxury, 
 he never questioned ; it was only her attitude about 
 which he was speculating. 
 
 And in his heart he determined that nothing she 
 could say, no amount of pleading on her part, would 
 alter the result. She was a sinner she must abide 
 by the results of her sin. Perhaps he would be very 
 sorry for her, perhaps it would cut him to the heart 
 to carry out his decision, yet it should be un- 
 alterable. 
 
 He wondered whether she would tell him the 
 truth.
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI 
 
 JOHN'S letter to Ruth, announcing his coming, pre- 
 ceded him by only a few hours; she received it in 
 the morning, and at four o'clock his train was due 
 to arrive. 
 
 It would be almost impossible to exaggerate its 
 effect upon her. It seemed to her, coming as it did 
 after months of neglect and after he had refused 
 to see her in Harbury, a complete surrender, apol- 
 ogy, on his part. Urged by a sudden overwhelming 
 impulse, she rushed down to Rudolph's office and 
 begged him to release her from her pledge. In 
 the face of John's change of mind, it seemed ab- 
 surd that she should test him, absurd and childish, 
 theatrical she could not do it. 
 
 Rudolf hesitated. Like many another man, he 
 found that every act foreshadows another. It is 
 understood, rather generally, that one bad action 
 brings another in its train. It is less universally 
 believed that the correlation is equally applicable to 
 good actions. But such is the case. Rudolf's hesi- 
 tation could have but one end. 
 
 "Do you want it so much, Sylvia?" he asked, 
 
 trying to gain time. " Wouldn't it be better " 
 
 308
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 309 
 
 " Oh, no, no! It would be so unfair to him it 
 would show such a lack of trust. I must not do it. 
 I cannot do it." 
 
 "Very well, then," he said gloomily, "you 
 needn't." 
 
 " Oh, you are so good, Rudy ! " she exclaimed. 
 " You " 
 
 " Don't," he said hoarsely. " Please don't and 
 would you mind if I excuse myself now, Sylvia? 
 There is a man waiting to see me in the other room, 
 a man who has come all the way from Chicago." 
 
 " Why, of course," she said, rising, " I must not 
 take up your time. But will you not congratulate 
 me, Rudy? I am so happy." 
 
 " I am glad that you are happy," he said in a 
 tired voice. " Good-by, Sylvia! " 
 
 He took her hand in his, then dropped it, and 
 turned abruptly to his desk. 
 
 The train from Boston was five minutes late. 
 Ruth stood shivering with expectancy behind the 
 iron gates, shutting out waiting friends from the 
 station platform. It seemed to her that all the last 
 two years had been shaping themselves toward this 
 moment. This was to be the climax of her life. 
 In a few moments she would meet John, she would 
 be in his arms, she could tell him of his terrible 
 mistake. She could hear his voice, tender and
 
 310 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 contrite, as he begged her forgiveness. And how 
 freely she would give it ! After all, he had but done 
 the natural thing. He had believed because he 
 heard only the side forcing him to believe. But 
 now how different everything would be! Yet she 
 would not tell him all, not all the ghastly details 
 of that first summer of suffering, nor would she tell 
 him of the narrowness of her escape from Rudolf. 
 In fact, she would not have to tell him of Rudolf 
 at all, except as the very good friend who had helped 
 her so much. Now that Rudolf had given her back 
 her freedom, it would not be necessary to linger 
 on that part of the story at all. 
 
 And then the train came in. The passengers 
 streamed out onto the platform, and began making 
 their way toward the exit. Ruth strained her eyes 
 for John's figure, and at last she caught sight of 
 it, towering above the others. At that instant pride 
 shot into her breast. How big he was, how manly, 
 and he was hers he was her John. 
 
 " John ! " she cried, when he was yet a little way 
 off. 
 
 People turned and gazed at this wonderfully 
 gowned woman, in magnificent furs sweeping the 
 ground, then turned to look at the man to whom 
 she was calling. They saw a very tall, hard- 
 featured countryman with ill-fitting clothes and a 
 collar a size too big, his face set and stern, and
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 311 
 
 in it no answering enthusiasm to the woman's greet- 
 ing. They wondered. 
 
 But Ruth did not notice, not until he had reached 
 her, and ignored her outstretched hand. 
 
 " Where can we go to talk ? " he asked gruffly. 
 " We can't talk here." 
 
 In a second her happiness dropped from her as 
 a garment. She felt stunned, uncertain. It was 
 an effort for her to say : 
 
 " We will go to the hotel. My car is waiting 
 outside." 
 
 " I would rather not ride in your car," he said 
 with direct rudeness. 
 
 She drew herself up haughtily. " That is an 
 unforgivable insult," she said in a low tone. 
 
 He did not answer. 
 
 She looked up at him, and what she saw shocked 
 her. What she had remembered as strength in his 
 face now appeared to her as stubbornness; what 
 her memory pictured as firmness, cruelty there was 
 no mistaking that thin-lipped mouth. And in his 
 eyes she saw a deep brooding narrowness of vision. 
 He might have posed for a statue of Justice, that 
 cold, uncaring Justice which weighs only results, 
 nor concerns itself with motives. 
 
 Surely this could not be the man for whom she 
 had struggled and sacrificed, her John whom she 
 had loved so completely, whom she had endowed
 
 3 i2 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 with every perfection and virtue this man who now 
 rewarded all her strivings for him with unbelief and 
 insult. A wild desire to wound him surged up in 
 her breast he should know the truth, should learn 
 how terribly he had misjudged her, should see his 
 blatant self-righteousness shrivel to mere flamboy- 
 ant narrowness. 
 
 " Very well," she said calmly; " we will take the 
 subway." 
 
 It was not far to the hotel, and the trip was 
 accomplished in silence. 
 
 " Now," she said directly, when they had reached 
 her apartments. " Why did you come? " 
 
 " I promised my mother when she was dying." 
 
 " Your mother dead ! Oh, John, what was the 
 matter? Did she suffer ? " 
 
 " Your conduct killed her." 
 
 "Oh!" she cried. 
 
 Then a sudden tremendous anger shook her. 
 
 " You brute ! " she said. " How dare you come 
 to me in this way, knowing nothing but village gos- 
 sip? How dare you condemn me unheard? Do 
 you know what I have been through for you do 
 you realize what it meant for me to be thrown out 
 into the world, forced to support not only myself, 
 but you and your mother? Do you suppose I left 
 Harbury for fun? Do you think it was easy for 
 me to come to New York and look for work I,
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 313 
 
 an ignorant country girl, knowing nothing of the 
 city and its ways ? " 
 
 She paused for breath, her breast heaving pain- 
 fully. 
 
 " There were many days," she swept on tumultu- 
 ously, " when I did not have enough to eat there 
 were days when I was tortured by the heat of the 
 worst summer this city had seen for twenty years, 
 and yet I went on, day after day, looking for a 
 position. Why? For myself no! I would rather 
 have died. For you." 
 
 Her words stung him. " I'm sorry," he said 
 coldly, " that you had such a hard time. Perhaps 
 it was my fault, but I refuse to be saddled with 
 your sin." 
 
 " My sin ! Oh, my God my sin ! " 
 
 She laughed harshly. " Who are you to talk of 
 sin? Have you ever been in a position where you 
 were confronted by starvation, where you could pre- 
 vent it only by a sin which would hurt nobody but 
 yourself, where you must see your loved ones 
 starve? Suppose it was your mother John, 
 wouldn't you sacrifice yourself for her sake? " 
 
 " It would be unnecessary," he replied. ' There 
 is always work for those who want it." 
 
 "Is there? How do you know? How do you 
 know what work there is for women in a city like 
 this? And what do you know about the tempta-
 
 314 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 tions, the circumstances which push women into sin, 
 the sin you sneer at so readily ? I know, and I say 
 to you, John Lawson, that there are thousands of 
 women forced into that sin without their desire or 
 wish; yes, without their consent. I know. I was 
 very near the brink, John, and I know. 
 
 " After months of failure," she went on more 
 calmly, " I won success at last ; yet, even when I 
 held it in my hand, I found that it could be kept only 
 if I sinned. I would have refused I did refuse 
 and then a letter came from your mother, saying 
 that you were to be taken to the asylum because 
 the money was all gone, and she, to the poorhouse. 
 I consented then, and only then. But the sacrifice 
 was not demanded of me. When I was tottering 
 on the brink, I was pulled back." 
 
 He started, and a light leaped into his eyes, then 
 his face again set into its former heavy lines. 
 
 " For a minute," he said cruelly, " I forgot you 
 were a play actress." 
 
 The words themselves were lost in their import. 
 
 " You don't believe it? " she cried. " You don't 
 believe me ? " 
 
 " I believe," he answered slowly, " that you had 
 a pretty hard time after I was hurt. I believe that 
 you suffered after you came to New York, and I 
 am sorry, but you could have done a great many 
 things which you were probably too proud to do.
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 315 
 
 You could have taken a position as a hired girl. 
 There are always plenty of places for servants." 
 
 Ruth laughed. " Go on." 
 
 " But," he continued, " you saw a chance for all 
 this," his glance indicated the luxury of the room. 
 " You always did love this sort of thing, even in 
 Harbury. I was blind then, I thought your fool- 
 ishness was just because you were young but other 
 people knew I have heard since." 
 
 She laughed again. "What else?" 
 
 He scowled at her interruption, and then went on : 
 
 " Well, it was a great temptation. Perhaps the 
 Lord did not give you strength to resist. Per- 
 haps I am not blaming you as much as you think 
 but I refuse to be blind to your guilt. The money 
 you sent my mother " 
 
 " Don't speak of money," she said quickly. " It 
 has no place in a situation like this." 
 
 " I will pay it back," he went on, " every cent 
 of it." 
 
 He stopped, and silence fell upon the room. 
 
 A change was gradually but surely taking place 
 in Ruth's mind. At the station, a transition had 
 begun. John's first look, his first words had started 
 it. Every moment since had fostered it, every 
 speech of his, every look, his very personality, gave 
 it momentum. Ruth could not believe that it was 
 real. She would not admit to herself that it was
 
 3 i6 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 true. Somehow it seemed indelicate, monstrous, un- 
 believable, but at last she was forced to recognize 
 it, for all its strangeness. 
 
 She did not care, she, Ruth Lawson, who had 
 loved this man so devotedly, was seeing the fabric 
 of her love woven through months of courtship, 
 of married life, of struggle, suffering, sacrifice, 
 gradually falling to pieces before her eyes, de- 
 stroyed in less than an hour's insight into the real 
 John, not the John of her memories, her ideals, 
 but John as he had become by this time. 
 
 For John was not the same man she had known 
 and married. He was not even the same man he 
 had been when he awakened back to consciousness. 
 Some natures are made more noble by suffering, 
 some natures soften under the buffeting of Fate, 
 but there are others that only shrink and harden. 
 Such a nature was John's. And in this hardening 
 process, as if to quicken it, he had deliberately set 
 up false gods and was worshiping them whole- 
 heartedly the God of success, the God of money, 
 and the God of Harsh Judgment, and of the three 
 the latter is the most terrible. 
 
 And under influence of this transition all re- 
 semblance of this man to John seemed to fade. 
 She saw in him only a hard-faced stranger. 
 
 " Is there anything else you wish to say ? " she 
 asked at last.
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 317 
 
 " Yes," he said. " I cannot have my name 
 dragged in the dirt." 
 
 " Oh, of course not ! " she said contemptuously. 
 " The courts will free you I will not contest." 
 
 " Then that is all," he said, rising. 
 
 Ruth stood in the middle of the floor after he 
 had gone. In her mind was an immensely curious 
 feeling which seemed to be a facsimile of relief, 
 and opposed to it a great loneliness relief that 
 she was not heartbroken, that now there was no 
 need of looking back over the stone wall, and lone- 
 liness and grief for her dead. 
 
 For John was dead. Her John, whom she had 
 known and loved, was dead. Had she seen his 
 casket lowered into the cold earth, had she heard 
 the inexpressibly melancholy sound of the clods 
 falling on his coffin, had she looked upon the grow- 
 ing pile of earth over his grave, he could be no 
 farther away, no more completely lost to her. 
 
 Gradually her eyes filled, and silent tears stole 
 down her cheeks.
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII 
 
 " MR. RUDOLF is here, madam, but perhaps madam 
 would not wish to see him ? " 
 
 Celeste regarded her mistress sympathetically. 
 
 " I will see him," said Ruth wearily. 
 
 Rudolf entered, his face dark with anger. 
 
 " What has happened, Sylvia no, don't answer 
 don't try to tell rne. I know I was at the sta- 
 tion I couldn't keep away I was crazy, wild, it 
 was unpardonable. I followed you here. I have 
 been waiting outside the hotel. I saw him go. 
 Tell me only this: Did you tell him everything? " 
 
 " I tried to. He would not believe me." 
 
 "D n him!" cried Rudolf. "I read it in 
 
 his face the cur ! " 
 
 " Don't," said Ruth. " Please don't." 
 
 He threw himself into a chair. " I've been through 
 Hell to-day, Sylvia. At first, because I was afraid 
 he would win you back; then, when I saw when 
 I knew what you must be suffering I wanted to 
 kill him I God ! " He mopped his brow. 
 
 " Don't worry about me," she said, smiling 
 faintly. " Somehow I don't feel so badly, after 
 all." 
 
 318
 
 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 319 
 " It's the excitement," he said moodily. " To- 
 
 morrow 
 
 " No," she said earnestly, " it isn't that, it isn't 
 altogether that. I don't know just what it is, but 
 I don't seem to care. He's changed so, or some- 
 thing. Perhaps it is I who have changed. I don't 
 know." 
 
 Rudolf said nothing, but continued to frown at 
 the rug. After a long time he asked : 
 
 "What now?" 
 
 " Oh ! " she answered bitterly. " He is afraid his 
 name will be dragged in the dirt. He will ask the 
 courts to free him." 
 
 He looked up quickly, the expression of his face 
 transformed. 
 "" Sylvia ! " he cried. " Sylvia I " 
 
 " No," she said, " you mustn't." 
 
 " Forgive me ! " he cried contritely. " Yet you 
 must know all I would say; you must understand, 
 Sylvia." 
 
 " Yes," she said gently, " I understand, and you 
 must understand I know you do how I appre- 
 ciate all you have been to me. You must know how 
 highly I value your sympathy, friendship. And 
 you will understand, won't you, why I must send 
 you away for a long time, months years, 
 maybe? "
 
 320 THE CLUTCH OF CIRCUMSTANCE 
 
 He stood before her with his face aflame : 
 "But I may come back, Sylvia? Some time 
 
 some day I may come back ? " 
 
 " Some day," she said softly, " you may come 
 
 back." 
 
 THE END
 
 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FAOUTY 
 
 A 000125265 9