The Storyteller

New Zealand Tablet, 29 September 1910, Page 1559

The Storyteller

THE CROSSING OF THE ROADS It nas in the spring of 1907 that a disturbance in the money market had turned men’s minds topsy-turvy. Alarmed at heavy losses and eager to retrieve them by some unusual stroke, they thrust aside or trod under foot their weaker fellow-beings. Arthur Wilgress had been speculating, honestly, legitimately, so far, but he had come to the crossing of the roads. The air seemed oppressively hot, or so he thought, in the board room of the Consolidated Company, where he listened to the plausible arguments of half a dozen men who had grown grey in the arena of commerce. They were trying to persuade this youngest of their number who had been made a director out of compliment to his deceased father that a course of action upon which they had decided was perfectly fair and honorable. The stake was enormous, the result certain gain for themselves, and almost equally certain ruin to others. Arthur Wilgress ran over hastily in his mind a few of those investors who had confided money to him, chiefly because they knew his father. .There was young Simpkins, and Mrs. Small, a widow with half a dozen children, and .he Marshalls an aged couple, with lined and pathetic faces. At thought of these and a host of others/Arthur wiped the perspiration from his face, a delicate, clear-cut face it was, which the casual observer would have regarded as merely boyish and effeminate. Listening to the voices of the tempters explaining the advantages to be deJ™ 1 AH-m, Wmt I th( W re Jed as an ingenious subteriu e, Aithin wondered why the atmosphere was so close and heavy, even though it was only March, and he wished that somebody would open a window. All the others present were in accord; he alone was so far, in opposition, yet he was as anxious as anybody else to make money. The set wherein he moved was extravagant; he himself was ambitious to win a foremost “ g 11 1 f . pl y : men- He was young, his veins full of the fire and initiative of his American ancestry, responding in every fibre of his being to the exigencies of his strenuous surroundings, and, most powerful motive of all, lie loved a girl to whom no poor man need aspire. The struggle, in fact, would have been comparatively easy had it not been for Caroline Woodward. A variety of thoughts passed lightning-like through his mind, while, with his cameo-like face outlined against the dark background of the wall, he remained silent. Discussion was useless, that be knew. He never for a moment deceived himself. In his judgment the course suggested meant rank dishonesty. I lie man nearest to him expostulated occasionally: ~ • ‘ you mustn’t be so thin-skinned, my dear fellow; the abo™ otheTmoTF d ” y- ™ y sl,oukl you set yourself “P Arthur set his chin obstinately, and as he adhered to his dissent it was proposed to adjourn the meeting until the following day, that he, the only beardless youth amongst matted greybeards, should have time to consider the matter. n. Arthur Wilgress took the elevated train up town and strolled about a bit before he returned to his apartments to dress for dinner. He was dining at the Woodward’s that night, a brilliant affair, for Caroline’s twenty-first birthday. He went early, hoping to have a few words with her lief ore the arrival of the other guests, and he found her already in the drawing room. She wore a gown of blue liberty satin, and it suited her admirably, but its very simplicity was the perfection of art, and therefore costly while the pearls about her neck were priceless. Aitlini a heart sank as he noted these things, and regarded the slender figure, graceful and sinuous in its movements, and the small eager face, childish almost and slightly wistful. this, he reflected, was a flower that would wither in any other than these luxurious surroundings. Before the young man had been many minutes in the room the girl commented upon his taciturnity. & ‘I am sure there is something the matter, Arthur she insisted; ‘you are really very dull.’ ‘ I am glad you find that a new experience and worthy of remark, laughed Arthur, waiving the subject. For assuredly he was not going to tell her of the tribulation of spirit through which he had passed, nor of the second ordeal that awaited him. r ‘ You mustn’t work too hard, Arthur,’ continued Caroline, though I do want you to make a fortune. Everybody is getting rich. Papa says that lots of men become millionaires in a day. . Arthur turned pale, as the girl seemed thus to divine his thoughts, and answered grimly: ‘Yes, lots of fellows turn over millions in a day Caroline smiled— bewitching irresistible smile—she said quietly: ‘Why don’t you find out this secret?’ They have been trying to teach me their secrets today, Arthur responded. He was standing slim and straight as a poplar before the girl, with one hand thrust into his pocket and his head thrown back, and Caroline looked at him approvingly.

* That’s right,’ she cried; 1 and you are so clever, Arthur, you will surely learn.’ ‘Even without being very clever,’ laughed Arthur; ‘I daresay I could master the lesson.’ ‘Then do,’ urged Caroline, eagerly, ‘so that papa will consent to our engagement.’ Arthur looked at the girl strangely; she was so fair and sweet, and apart from extrinsic advantages so eminently worth while. ‘ That would be the price, then, of consenting to that deal,’ he reflected, while aloud he answered gravely, ‘ I would do almost anything to win you, darling.’ ‘What does “almost” mean?’ Caroline asked, pleased with the fervor and sincerity of his tone, and with a captivating glance from her blue eyes. ‘ I am not very good at explanations,’ Arthur answered, evasively, ‘ but sometime or other I shall have to tell you.’ .‘Tell me now,’ Caroline entreated, and the lover might have found it hard to resist her importunity, but the door just then opened, and one after another the dinner guests began to arrive. That dinner was a brilliant affair, notable even amongst the Woodward dinners, which were famous both as to the quality of the guests, the perfection of the chef, and the appointments of the table. There was the famous plate that had come down through generations, the cut glass of ancient and almost obsolete pattern and the Venetian dessert service, that was regarded as a marvel. The very flowers would have given a comfortable income to some poor fellow for a month. Caroline was radiant, rivalling the flowers, which Arthur himself had sent her, and some of which she wore in her gown. The atmosphere suited Caroline, as the warm radiance of a June day suits a rose. She was in unusually good spirits, and felt exceedingly proud of her lover, who carried himself with distinction, and who had gained a new note of virility, which the girl subtly perceived, without analysing its nature. During dinner the conversation, more varied and sparkling than usual at such functions, turned more than once upon money and money-making. The menand they were of divers sorts and conditions, morally and intellectu—talked with animation of the chances of the street and the wealth there acquired with phenomenal rapidity. Feminine eyes brightened and the roses in lovely cheeks deepened at the golden conquests achieved by these gladiators of the stock markets as eyes had brightened and cheeks flushed long ago at the victories of sword and lance. Arthur felt himself inflamed with the ardor of the moment. It became imperative that he should distinguish himself in those lists, where success was the goal. His brain fairly whirled with the phantoms thus evoked. 111. - Walking home that night, Arthur felt as if the fever and unrest of the vast metropolis were burning in his veins. The azure sky mocked him with the tranquility of its sidereal depths, the stars scintillated, or so he fancied, with peculiar hardness; the far-off sounds of the crowded thoroughfares smote upon his senses, while he passed downwards along the broad and comparatively silent avenue pursued by those same spectres of wealth and its concomitants. The tempting voices heard that day in the board room still rang in his ears. ‘ Those deals are perfectly legitimate. They are the necessary accompaniments of modern finance. Our new methods necessarily differ from the old it is a game, in which the boldest wins.’ When Arthur reached- his apartments he threw open the window and flung himself into a chair, staring at the tall, brown stone houses opposite. For the hundredth time he revolved those insidious arguments; his future was at stake, his standing amongst those financiers, who were disposed to regard him as a coward, afraid of shadows, unwilling to dare what others had dared, scared by the smoke and din of battle and the carnage of the field. The struggle wherein he was engaged during those hours of darkness was as an actual physical struggle, his nerves tingled and vibrated, as though they were living entities, independent of his will. The perspiration rolled off his brow, as he wrestled in agony of soul. He was offered wealth, independence, the gratification of ambition, the power to command, and to challenge by new and bold ventures, the admiration of these scornful veterans. Then there was Caroline, whom he might win simply by giving his assent to the proposed measure; and this was a prospect sufficiently alluring to any man. It awoke into life those hitherto dormant faculties of his mind, poetry and imagination. The tension of his nerves relaxed, and he became a ‘ dreamer of dreams.’ Once Caroline was his, he could give up this mad contest, and spend his time according to their mutual pleasure. They could travel and see the world and go wheresoever inclination led them. Ho should be free, then, and need never deviate by so much as a hair’s breadth from the straight path. It was a fierce conflict, wherein contended those two master passions of mankind, love and ambition, against old tradition, and the scruples of his enlightened, Catholic conscience. It was a splendid struggle, wherein the victor need expect • neither laurel wreaths nor the applause of the multitude. In those hours of doubt Arthur even wondered on which side Caroline might range herself. It would be so hard for her to understand the evil of a thing that men were doing every day, and although she was a Catholic— her

father was not —and fresh from a convent school, she had mingled much since then with a world that lightly smiles away its most sacred obligations. While these fancies presented themselves to the young man’s mind one by one, like wrestlers, with whom he had to do battle, the night wore away, and the faint whiteness of dawn crept into the sky. The noises of the City of Confusion ceased, and Arthur, with a longing for fresh air, leaned far out of the window. The breeze touched his face, cooling it, as a tender hand might have done, and thus brought before his mental vision his mother—a sweet old figure, clad in the rich but simple fashion of an older day, her lips wreathed with the smile that had ever greeted her boy. Her eyes met his once —the dear eyes that had looked upon his childhood, and which lie had seen closed in death. He seemed to hear her enunciate those Catholic truths, by which her own life had been guided, and clear and distinct, as if uttered by a living voice, he seemed to hear her say; ‘ Remember always that what I most admired in your father was his stainless honor and his devotion to Catholic principle.’ ‘ Stainless honor, devotion to Catholic principle.’ What had those to do with the measure that had been proposed to him? When the last star faded out of the firmament, and the light of a new day shone upon Manhattan, Arthur Wilgress, exhausted by the struggle, murmured prayers that were only half articulate, and their burden was ‘ Lead us not into temptation! Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for me.’ He got up early, too, despite his vigil, and went to Mass at St. Francis Xavier’s, where so lately he had been attending the services as a college boy. IV. There was a full meeting of the board next day, to intimidate the stripling, who had dared to attack the new Goliath. When Arthur entered the room the men already there were struck by his pallor and the haggard expression of his eyes. He seemed as one recovering from illness. To inquiries concerning his health he responded briefly that he was all right, and so took his place, prepared for battle. He looked out of the window at the familiar objects thereabouts, that somehow had a new aspect; the giant structures of the sky-scrapers, lean and skeleton-liko in their altitude, tending towards the heavens. Amongst them all was the spire of a church, and its incongruity appealed to his sense of humor and made him laugh. After that he sat silent, grimly expectant of the conflict, which came upon him sharp and sudden. The usual arguments were repeated, many and specious; Arthur heard them with his face set as if in a mask. When the time came he arose and announced his decision, briefly and tersely, producing a sensation, such as had rarely been produced in those surroundings, at least, by a similar method. After that he stood leaning against a pillar, his hands behind his back, his head high in air, and his nostrils quivering with suppressed excitement. He listened calmly to remonstrances, persuasions, even to abuse. Then he tendered his resignation from the board, and it was unanimously accepted. Ho went out of the building, and, reaching the pavement, drew a long breath. He lit a cigar and blew the wreaths of smoke into the clear, sunshiny air of the March morning, and walked away with a, light step and a peculiar buoyancy of feeling. For a moral victory produces even a greater sense of exhilaration than one merely physical. He felt that he could meet young Simpkins now and the widow Small, and the aged couple and those others, whose interests he had just then refused to compromise. He was still the worthy son of a worthy father, and his mother would have been prouder of him than if he had made millions. The spring got into his veins, and he could _ have laughed or sung, as if he had been a boy beginning a long holiday. He was practically a ruined man, but he would not regard his defeat as ultimate. He convinced himself that he would still achieve success as others had done, while keeping themselves undazzled by the glitter of the street. It would be a glorious thing to be regarded as a ‘ white man,’ whom even the tricksters would be constrained to admireonce he had succeeded. But even as a physical victory leaves bruises or wounds in its wake, so a moral one is frequently followed by doubt, despondency, reaction. At the thought of Caroline, Arthur’s heart sank. There was no hope whatever that her father would consent to an engagement, and after all it would be like chaining a butterfly to a grub, even if she could be induced to marry in poverty. Her father was wealthy, but he had a large family, of expensive tastes, and he had been always 'expecting that the girls should make advantageous _ marriages. Reflecting thus disconsolately, the lover was jostled by the crowds obstructing the narrow sidewalks of Wall street, and when he attempted to cross Broadway recklessly amongst a throng of vehicles he was sworn at by a driver and dragged out of harm’s way by a policeman, with a sharp admonition to ‘ look where he was going.’ V. Arthur was conscious of a bitter pang at his heart next morning when he received a dainty note from Caro-

line bidding him come to see her in the afternoon. Of course he obeyed the summons, though he was sure that during the appointed interview he should hear of his dismissal. He suffered acutely at the thought of parting from Caroline, and he now realised the full extent of the sacrifice he had made. he was convinced that he could never have acted otherwise, and that if the ordeal were to be repeated he must do as he had done. He stopped at the florist’s, and ordered a particularly choice bouquet of roses for Caroline, thinking bitterly that they might be the last he should ever send. Other men were in the shop buying flowers for other women, and he wondered, as he looked at them, if any amongst them were so sorely tried as he had been. When he reached the Woodward mansion the plateglass windows seemed to stare at him coldly from their polished surfaces, as the world would stare, Arthur thought, at an unsuccessful man. The palatial mansion frowned as though he in his poverty had no right to approach, and the ormolu clock, ticking away the minutes, whilst he waited amongst the gorgeous furnishings of the drawing-room, seemed to taunt him with his insignificance. Caroline came down presently, advancing to meet her lover with both hands outstretched, eagerly, effusively, with the light of a genuine welcome in her eyes. Arthur wondered how he could ever give her up or tell the news, which would be a death-blow to bis hopes. He began the ungrateful task conscientiously, trying to make his meaning clear without compromising others. Caroline listened with downcast eves, and vne young lover thought, as lovers have thought since the world began, that surely never more charming being was wooed by mortal man. ‘Do you care for me so very much?’ Caroline asked, when Arthur paused in his recital. ‘Oh, darling!’ he cried, and his month that had been so sternly set during the contest of the previous day quivered pitifully; ‘you know that I do.’ ‘ Yet you threw away the chance of making a fortune, which would have won me.’ Arthur felt that this was the most agonising trial of all. He could brace himself against the hardness of the board directors, the coarse invectives in which a few had indulged, their raillery, their contempt, their denunciations; but Caroline, in her beauty and charm, armed for conquest, was another sort of adversary, against whom his strength seemed in vain. ‘ I am trying to explain, Carrie,’ he cried desperately, ‘ that the secret was too hard to learn after all, and that I found it was not so easy to make millions in a hurry.’ ‘ You found, in short,’ commented Caroline, from the depths of the chair wherein she was ensconced, / that you were willing to give me up.’ ‘ God knows I would rather give up everything else,’ explained Arthur. .‘Except,’ added the girl, with a little laugh, ‘ your scruples.’ ‘My honesty,’ corrected Arthur curtly; ‘ but it is a difficult matter for you to understand, and one which it is little use discussing.’ _ ‘ I believe you want to get rid of me,’ declared Caroline, gazing up* at her lover with eager, wistful eyes. The look that Arthur turned upon her and the choking voice in which he strove to protest would have convinced the most cynical. Caroline enjoyed her triumph and the delight with which she heard his confession in a thoroughly feminine manner. The flush that rose to her cheeks and the light to her eyes were perilous; indeed, to poor Arthur, whom she on her* part found the more attractive, that be made this gallant stand against her influence. ‘ I suppose it isn’t too late,’ she exclaimed, half jest, whole earnest, ‘ to go back and tell them that, as you wanted to marry a very extravagant girl, you must just this once do like other men.’ Arthur’s breath came quickly. The splendid apartment became as the board-room had done, upon the previous day, close and stifling, and while he felt the fascination of this modern siren, he was conscious of a sense of disappointment. Surely she, too, should have seen the matter as he did, and he might have expected her to aid him in his upward struggle. Yet when he looked into the eager, childish face, and met the pleading eyes, he softened towards her. It was because, he told himself, that she could not know, did not understand, that she thus played the role of tempter. It was to Arthur’s credit, however, that he never waverea in his determination. He was, as a knight, clad in impregnable armor. He merely answered her gently: Don’t let us argue,, dearest. I quite understand that you could not marry a poor man, and you must always remember that I don’t blame you for giving me up.’ ‘ It is you who are giving me up, Arthur,’ protested the girl, ‘ and of your own accord.’ ‘ It is like parting with the best part of my own life,’ Arthur responded; ‘I have loved you, Carrie, ever since I was a little chap going off to college, and you— —’ He stopped, overcome by the recollection of a little white-robed figure, with blossom' trimmed bat, which had waved him a farewell. ~ , . ‘ I was just a mite, Caroline said, and her voice was low and thrilling with a strong emotion ; ‘ I used to think you such a splendid fellow, and I believe I began to love y ° U Arthur caught at this admission eagerly, joyfully, as a ray of light in the darkness the next moment he stiffened

and pulled himself together. He had no right even to hear such an avowal, and he must at all hazards subdue his beating heart and leaping pulses. To Caroline he seemed a very attractive figure, as he stood thus, with the new manliness and determination in his bearing and the signs or the recent conflict in his worn and haggard face. She could not help thinking that he wss different from the painted simulacra of men she met every day in drawingrooms, or those gilded toilers in the financial market-place, whose triumphs were entirely material, and who lacked the moral fibre. She rose from her place, trembling, blushing \ntli a new ardor and a new admiration, and confronted .'Arthur where he was making his last stand, grasping the back of a Sheraton chair for support. There was somer 1 'V’c aS noble as it was pathetic in his dumb acceptance of defeat, uttering no complaint of the agony which the conflict had cost him. Caroline extended her hand, and Arthur, feeling that it was in farewell, braced himself to take it in both his own and speak the irrevocable words of parting. There was an interruption, the door was thrown open, and Arthur heard the genial, hearty voice of Mr. Woodward himself the young man’s heart sank, he felt scarcely equal to any further contest, and he had lost those last few minutes with Caroline. Mi. Woodward, slapping Arthur on the back and seizing Ins hand in a vice-like grasp, cried: I’m glad to find that you are your father’s son, and as I told this little giil here 1 don t care how soon your engagement is "announced now.’ ‘ But, but,’ stammered Arthur, ‘I am a poor man. ‘Poverty, be d d. You’ve got the sort of grit I Avant in a son-in-law.’ Arthur turned his eyes upon Caroline, bewildered, expectant, reproachful, as he realised that she had been merely playing with him and trying his mettle, ashamed, too, that he had ever doubted her; and Caroline, half laughing and hah crying, still held out her hand.—Anna T. d her, in the Montreal Tribune.