Part 23 (1/2)
”May I know where and what is the work my son's mother has selected?”
”It is everywhere; the struggle of the poor to loosen the strangling clutch of the rich on their throats; the cruel war which will end only with the downfall of aristocrats, when millionaires will be hunted like other criminals, when cowardly sons of rich army officers can dare to marry publicly the daughters of their regimental teamsters, and when a pure woman, because she is pure, will be as much respected as a crowned head. You preach 'he that giveth to the poor lendeth to the Lord.' We have a different doctrine, a broader gospel. When justice reigns there will be no poor, no h.o.a.rded surplus of dishonest riches, no 'benevolent fund' doled out by 'philanthropic' pharisees to the workers whose labor created it. In that day, no poor girls in reeking tenements will be goaded by the sight of fas.h.i.+onable society women, who drink, and smoke, and gamble, and loll half clad in opera boxes, and hug their lap dogs and their lovers instead of their children. In that day society lines will vanish, and only two cla.s.ses exist--workers and drones, governed by beehive laws. To aid in this is all I care for now--all that remains for me--and my work will be well done.”
She had spoken in a cold, defiant tone, keeping her eyes on the coffin and her fingers on the child's curls, but after a moment a spasm of anguish shook her mercilessly, and, rising, she pointed to the door, saying, between strangling sobs:
”Leave me, and shut the door. I have all I can bear now. Leave me alone with my little one.”
CHAPTER XV
Aix-les-Bains proved a successful prescription, and Judge Kent declared himself cured; but two silent women knew he could obtain only a modic.u.m of sleep, and noted the fact that when the daily mail--nervously expected and handled--had been scanned he grew gay and chatty. After sixteen months on the continent, he settled for a while at Taormina, and here his companions were surprised to learn that his business agent had sold every foot of real estate he owned in America, including the Herriott house in New York, and the old homestead built in an elm grove among the bleak, stony hills of New England.
”Father, when was the house in Thirty-eighth Street sold?”
”Soon after we reached Aix.”
”And you never told me?”
”Why should I? Herriott might cherish some sentiment about it, but the matter touched you in no way.”
”At least I should like to know who bought it.”
”Herriott. While at Greyledge I told him it would be on the market, and he instructed his agent to make the purchase.”
”Had I known in time, Mr. Whitfield might have invested some idle money.
I like those cool, big, old-fas.h.i.+oned rooms.”
”I entertain no doubt that sooner or later they will be yours. Mrs.
Mitch.e.l.l, may I trouble you for the 'Figaro' at your elbow?”
”Who owns the old homestead that has belonged to some Kent for two hundred years?”
”The town has grown until it needs a juvenile 'reformatory,' and one is now in course of erection where my old barn stood so long. A better site could not have been found, or one more vigilantly patrolled by orthodox puritan ghosts.”
”Have you no regrets when you think of strangers possessing the little family burying ground where some of your ancestors long ago crumbled to dust?”
Eglah lifted her hand to brush away an orange petal that drifted down to the velvet collar of his coat, and Eliza knew that the perpendicular line between her brows indexed profound dissatisfaction.
”Regrets are unprofitable, and what remains of my life must pay dividends. My dear, will you kindly hand me my match box?”
”Then you are homeless?”
Smiling blandly, he bowed to her.
”I trust not, while my daughter owns thousands of acres of the finest land in the South.”
”Do you forget how often you have declared you would never again live south of Was.h.i.+ngton?”
”I forget nothing, but circ.u.mstances are not as fixed as parallels of lat.i.tude, and changed conditions demand readjustment of plans.