Part 40 (1/2)

”Yes, the government should put enough troops from the regular army in here to drive these men back to their jobs.”

”But aren't these working people just as much a part of our government as you employers? Forgive me, Jim, but your plan sounds to me too much like the very imperialism that our soldiers fought against in France.”

”Imperialism or not!” he retorted, ”the business men of this country will never submit to the dictators.h.i.+p of Jake Vodell and his kind. It would be chaos and utter ruin. Look what they are doing in other countries.”

”Of course it would,” she agreed, ”but the Interpreter says that if the business men and employers and the better cla.s.s of employees like Peter Martin would get together as--as John and Charlie Martin are--that Jake Vodell and his kind would be powerless.”

He did not answer, and she continued, ”As I understand brother and the Interpreter, this man Vodell does not represent the unions at all--he merely uses some of the unions, wherever he can, through such men as Sam Whaley. Isn't that so, Jim?”

”Whether it is so or not, the result is the same,” he answered. ”If the unions of the laboring cla.s.ses permit themselves to be used as tools by men like Jake Vodell they must take the consequences.”

He rose to his feet as one who would end an unprofitable discussion.

”Come, Helen, it is useless for you to make yourself ill over these questions. You are worn out now. Come, you really must let me take you home.”

”I suppose I must,” she answered, wearily.

He went to her. ”It is wonderful for you to do what you have done to-night, and for you to come to me like this. Helen--won't you give me my answer--won't you--?”

She put out her hands with a little gesture of protest. ”Please, Jim, let's not talk about ourselves to-night. I--I can't.”

Silently he turned away to take up his hat and coat. Silently she stood waiting.

But when he was ready, she said, ”Jim, there is just one thing more.”

”What is it, Helen?”

”Tell me truly: you _could_ stop this strike, couldn't you? I mean if you would come to some agreement with your factory men, all the others would go back to work, too, wouldn't they?”

”Yes,” he said, ”I could.”

She hesitated--then falteringly, ”Jim, if I--if I promise to be your wife will you--will you stop the strike? For the sake of the mothers and children who are cold and hungry and sick, Jim--will you--will you stop the strike?”

For a long minute, Jim McIver could not answer. He wanted this woman as a man of his strength wants the woman he has chosen. At the beginning of their acquaintance his interest in Helen had been largely stimulated by the business possibilities of a combination of his factory and Adam Ward's Mill. But as their friends.h.i.+p had grown he had come to love her sincerely, and the more material consideration of their union had faded into the background. Men like McIver, who are capable of playing their games of business with such intensity and pa.s.sion, are capable of great and enduring love. They are capable, too, of great sacrifices to principle. As he considered her words and grasped the full force of her question his face went white and his nerves were tense with the emotional strain.

At last he said, gently, ”Helen, dear, I love you. I want you for my wife. I want you more than I ever wanted anything. Nothing in the world is of any value to me compared with your love. But, dear girl, don't you see that I can't take you like this? You cannot sell yourself to me--even for such a price. I cannot buy you.” He turned away.

”Forgive me, Jim,” she cried. ”I did not realize what I was saying.

I--I was thinking of little Maggie--I--I know you would not do what you are doing if you did not think you were right. Take me home now, please, Jim.”

Silently they went out to his automobile. Tenderly he helped her into the car and tucked the robe about her. The guards swung open the big gates, and they swept away into the night. Past the big Mill and the Flats, through the silent business district and up the hill they glided swiftly--steadily. And no word pa.s.sed between them.

They were nearing the gate to the Ward estate when Helen suddenly grasped her companion's arm with a low exclamation.

At the same moment McIver instinctively checked the speed of his car.

They had both seen the shadowy form of a man walking slowly past the entrance to Helen's home.

To Helen, there was something strangely familiar in the dim outlines of the moving figure. As they drove slowly on, pa.s.sing the man who was now in the deeper shadows of the trees and bushes which, at this spot grew close to the fence, she turned her head, keeping her eyes upon him.