Chapter XL: The Curtain 563 (2)

The Debater's Medal had for a long time been, in the general estimation, as good as accorded me; for I was a fluent, and I personally thought, eloquent speaker, and had some reading. But when Wolffert entered the debate, his speeches so far outshone mine that I knew at once that I was beat. They appeared not so much prepared for show, as mine were, as to come from a storehouse of reading and reflection. Wolffert, who had begun to speak without any design of entering the contest for the Medal, would generously have retired, but I would not hear of that. I called Peck to account for a speech which I had heard of his making: that "the contest was between a Jew and a jug"; but he denied making it, so I lost even that satisfaction.

I worked for the Magazine Medal; but my "poems"--"To Cynthia" and "To Felicia," and my fanciful sketches, though they were thought fine by our set, did not, in the estimation of the judges, equal the serious and solemn essays on Julius Cæsar and Alexander Hamilton, to which the prize was awarded. At least, the author of those essays had worked over them like a dog, and in the maturer light of experience, I think he earned the prizes.

I worked hard--at least, at the last, for my law degree, and every one was sure I would win--as sure as that Peck would lose; but Peck scraped through while mine was held up--because the night before the degrees were posted I insisted on proving to the professor who had my fate in his hands, and whom I casually ran into, that a "gentleman drunk was a gentleman sober," the idea having been suggested to my muddled brain by my having just been good-natured enough to put to bed Peck. I finally got the degree, but not until I had been through many tribulations, one of which was the sudden frost in Miss Poole's manner to me. That girl was like autumn weather. She could be as warm as summer one minute and the next the thermometer would drop below the freezing point. I remember I was her escort the evening of the Final Ball. She looked like Juno with the flowers I had gone out in the country to get for her from an old garden that I knew. Her face was very high bred and her pose majestic. I was immensely proud of her and of myself as her escort--and as Peck stalked in with a new and ill-fitting suit of "store-clothes" on, I fancy I put on my toppiest air. But Peck had a shaft and he came there to shoot it. As he passed near us, he said in a loud voice to someone, "The B. L. list is posted."

"Are you through?" demanded the other.

"Yep."

"Anybody failed 't we expected to get through?"

"'T depends on who you expected to get through. Glave's not on it."

His shaft came home. I grew cold for a minute and then recovered myself. I saw my partner's face change. I raised my head and danced on apparently gayer than ever, though my heart was lead. And she played her part well, too. But a few minutes later when Peck strutted up, a decided cock to his bullet head, I heard her, as I turned away, congratulate him on his success.

I slipped out and went over to the bulletin-board where the degree-men were posted, and sure enough, I was not among them. A curious crowd was still standing about and they stopped talking as I came up, so I knew they had been talking about me. I must say that all showed concern, and sympathy was written on every face. It was, at least, sweet to know that they all considered it a cursed shame, and set my failure down to hostility on the part of one of the professors. I was determined that no one should know how hard hit I was, and I carried my head high till the ball was out, and was so lofty with Miss Poole that she was mystified into being very receptive. I do not know what might have happened that night if it had not been for old John Marvel. I learned afterward that I was pretty wild. He found me when I was wildly denouncing the law professor who had failed to put me through in some minor course, and was vowing that I would smash in his door and force my diploma from him. I might have been crazy enough to attempt it had not old John gotten hold of me. He and Wolffert put me to bed and stayed with me till I was sober. And sober enough I was next day.

As I have said, I received my diploma finally; but I lost all the prestige and pleasure of receiving it along with my class, and I passed through some of the bitterest hours that a young man can know.

Among my friends at college--I might say among my warmest friends--was my old crony "Jeams," or, as he spoke of himself to those whom he did not regard as his social equals, or whom he wanted to amuse himself with, "Mister Woodson"; a little later changed to "Professor Woodson," as more dignified and consonant with the managing class of the institution. When I left for college he followed me, after a brief interval, and first appeared as a waiter at the college boarding-house where I boarded, having used my name as a reference, though at home he had never been nearer the dining-room than the stable. Here he was promptly turned out, and thereupon became a hanger-on of mine and a "Factotum" for me and my friends.

He was now a tall, slim fellow, with broad shoulders and the muscles of Atlas--almost but not quite black and with a laugh that would have wiled Cerberus. He had the shrewdness of a wild animal, and was as imitative as a monkey, and this faculty had inspired and enabled him to pick up all sorts of acquirements, ranging from reading and writing to sleight-of-hand tricks, for which he showed a remarkable aptitude. Moreover, he had a plenty of physical courage, and only needed to be backed by someone, on whom he relied, to do anything.

I was naturally attached to him and put up with his rascalities, though they often taxed me sorely, while he, on his part, was so sincerely attached to me, that I believe he would have committed any crime at my bidding.

He considered my old clothes his property, and what was far more inconvenient, considered himself the judge of the exact condition and moment when they should pass from my possession to his.

He was a handsome rascal, and took at times such pride in his appearance that, as he was about my size, I had often to exercise a close watch on my meagre wardrobe. He had not only good, but really distinguished manners, and, like many of his race, prided himself on his manners. Thus, on an occasion when he passed Peck at college, and touched his hat to him, a civility which Peck ignored, Wolffert said to him, "Jeams, Mr. Peck don't appear to recognize you."

"Oh! yes," said Jeams, "he recognizes me, but he don't recognize what's due from one gent'man to another."

"Are you going to keep on touching your hat to him?" asked Wolffert.

"Oh! yes, suh," said Jeams, "I takes keer o' my manners, and lets him take keer o' hisn'."

Such was "Jeams," my "body servant," as he styled himself, on occasions when he had an eye to some article of my apparel or stood in especial need of a donation.

He hated Peck with as much violence as his easygoing nature was capable of, and had no liking for Wolffert. The fact that the latter was a Jew and yet my friend, staggered him, though he put up with him for my sake, and on the night of my fight with Wolffert, I think he would, had he had a chance, have murdered him, as I am sure he would have murdered the professor who threw me on my degree. He got much fuller than I got that night, and his real grief and shame were among the heaviest burdens I had to bear.

Miss Poole returned home the next afternoon after the delivery of the diplomas, and I heard that Peck went off on the same train with her.

I expected some sympathy from the girl for whom my devotion had cost me so much; but she was as cool and sedate over my failure as if it had been Peck's.

All she said was, "Why did not you win the honors?"

"Because I did not work enough for them."

"Why did not you work more?"

I came near saying, "Because I was fooling around you"; but I simply said, "Because I was so certain of winning them."

"You showed rather bad judgment." That was all the sympathy I received from her.

The old law professor when he took leave of me said--and I remember said it gravely--"Mr. Glave, you have the burden of too many gifts to carry."

I was pleased by the speech and showed it. He looked at me keenly from under his bushy eyebrows. "I commend to you the fable of the hare and the tortoise. We shall hear of Peck."

I wondered how he knew I was thinking of Peck with his common face, hard eyes, and stumpy legs.

"You shall hear of me, too," I declared with some haughtiness.

He only smiled politely and made no answer.

Nettled, I asked arrogantly, "Don't you think I have more sense--more intellect than Peck?"

"More intellect--yes--much more.--More sense? No. Remember the fable. 'There are ways that you know not and paths that you have not tried.'"

"Oh! that fable--it is as old as----"

"Humanity," he said. "'To scorn delights and live laborious days.' You will never do that--Peck will."

I left him, angry and uncomfortable.

I had rather looked forward to going to the West to a near cousin of my father's, who, if report were true, had made a fortune as a lawyer and an investor in a Western city. He and my father had been boys together, but my cousin had gone West and when the war came, he had taken the other side. My father, however, always retained his respect for him and spoke of him with affection. He had been to my home during my early college-life--a big, stolid, strong-faced man, silent and cold, but watchful and clear-minded--and had appeared to take quite a fancy to me.

"When he gets through," he had said to my father, "send him out to me. That is the place for brains and ambition, and I will see what is in him for you."

Now that I had failed, I could not write to him; but as he had made a memorandum of my graduation year, and as he had written my father several times, I rather expected he would open the way for me. But no letter came. So I was content to go to the capital of the State.

VI

THE METEOR

I am convinced now that as parents are the most unselfish creatures, children are the veriest brutes on earth. I was too self-absorbed to think of my kind father, who had sacrificed everything to give me opportunities which I had thrown under the feet of Lilian Poole and who now consoled and encouraged me without a word of censure. Though I was deeply grieved at the loss of my parents, I did not know until years afterward what an elemental and life-long calamity that loss was.

My father appeared as much pleased with my single success as if I had brought him home the honors which I had been boasting I would show him. He gave me only two or three bits of advice before I left home. "Be careful with other people's money and keep out of debt," he said. "Also, have no dealings with a rascal, no matter how tightly you think you can tie him up." And his final counsel was, "Marry a lady and do not marry a fool."

I wondered if he were thinking of Lilian Poole.

However, I had not the least doubt in my mind about winning success both with her and with that even more jealous Mistress--The Law. In fact, I quite meant to revolutionize things by the meteoric character of my career.

I started out well. I took a good office fronting on the street in one of the best office-buildings--an extravagance I could not afford. Peck had a little dark hole on the other side of the hall. He made a half proposal to share my office with me, but I could not stand that. I, however, told him that he was welcome to use my office and books as much as he pleased, and he soon made himself so much at home in my office that I think he rather fell into the habit of thinking my clients his own.

Before I knew many people I worked hard; read law and a great deal of other literature. But this did not last long, for I was social and made acquaintances easily. Moreover, I soon began to get cases; though they were too small to satisfy me--quite below my abilities, I thought. So, unless they promised me a chance of speaking before a jury, I turned them over to Peck, who would bone at them and work like a horse, though I often had to hunt up the law for him, a labor I never knew him to acknowledge.

At first I used to correspond with both John Marvel and Wolffert; but gradually I left their letters unanswered. John, who had gone West, was too full of his country parish to interest me, and Wolffert's abstractions were too altruistic for me.

Meantime, I was getting on swimmingly. I was taken into the best social set in the city, and was soon quite a favorite among them. I was made a member of all the germans as well as of the best club in town; was welcomed in the poker-game of "the best fellows" in town, and was invited out so much that I really had no time to do much else than enjoy my social success. But the chief of the many infallible proofs I had was my restoration to Lilian Poole's favor. Since I was become a sort of toast with those whose opinion she valued highly, she was more cordial to me than ever, and I was ready enough to let by-gones be by-gones and dangle around the handsomest girl in the State, daughter of a man who was president of a big bank and director of a half-dozen corporations. I was with her a great deal. In fact, before my second winter was out, my name was coupled with hers by all of our set and many not in our set. And about three evenings every week I was to be found basking in her somewhat steady smile, either at some dance or other social entertainment; strolling with her in the dusk on our way home from the fashionable promenade of ---- Street--which, for some reason, she always liked, though I would often have preferred some quieter walk--or lounging on her plush-covered sofa in her back drawing-room. I should have liked it better had Peck taken the hint that most of my other friends had taken and kept away from her house on those evenings which by a tacit consent of nearly every one were left for my visits. But Peck, who now professed a great friendship for me, must take to coming on precisely the evenings I had selected for my calls. He never wore a collar that fitted him, and his boots were never blacked. Miss Lilian used to laugh at him and call him "the burr"--indeed, so much that I more than once told her, that while I was not an admirer of Peck myself, I thought the fact that he was really in love with her ought to secure him immunity from her sarcasm. We had quite a stiff quarrel over the matter, and I told her what our old law professor had said of Peck.

I had rather thought that, possibly, Mr. Poole, knowing of the growing relation of intimacy between myself and his daughter, would throw a little of his law business my way; but he never did. He did, in fact, once consult me at his own house about some extensive interests that he owned and represented together in a railway in a Western city; but though I took the trouble to hunt up the matter and send him a brief on the point carefully prepared, he did not employ me, and evidently considered that I had acted only as a friend. It was in this investigation that I first heard of the name Argand and also of the P. D. and B. D. R.R. Co. I heard long afterward that he said I had too many interests to suit him; that he wanted a lawyer to give him all his intellect, and not squander it on politics, literature, sport, and he did not know what besides. This was a dig at my rising aspirations in each of these fields. For I used to write now regularly for the newspapers, and had one or two articles accepted by a leading monthly magazine--a success on which even Peck congratulated me, though he said that, as for him, he preferred the law to any other entertainment. My newspaper work attracted sufficient attention to inspire me with the idea of running for Congress, and I began to set my traps and lay my triggers for that.

Success appeared to wait for me, and my beginning was "meteoric."

Meteoric beginnings are fatal. The meteor soon fades into outer darkness--the outer darkness of the infinite abyss. I took it for success and presumed accordingly, and finally I came down. I played my game too carelessly. I began to speculate--just a little at first; but more largely after awhile. There I appeared to find my proper field; for I made money almost immediately, and I spent it freely, and, after I had made a few thousands, I was regarded with respect by my little circle.

I began to make money so much more easily by this means than I had ever done by the law that I no longer thought it worth while to stay in my office, as I had done at first, but spent my time, in a flock of other lambs, in front of a blackboard in a broker's office, figuring on chances which had already been decided in brokers' offices five hundred miles away. Thus, though I worked up well the cases I had, and was fairly successful with them, I found my clients in time drifting away to other men not half as clever as I was, who had no other aim than to be lawyers. Peck got some of my clients. Indeed, one of my clients in warning me against speculating, which, he said, ruined more young men than faro and drink together, told me he had learned of my habit through Peck. Peck was always in his office or mine. I had made some reputation, however, as a speaker, and as I had taken an active part in politics and had many friends, I stood a good chance for the commonwealth's attorneyship; but I had determined to fly higher: I wanted to go to Congress.

I kept a pair of horses now, since I was so successful, and used to hunt in the season with other gay pleasure-lovers, or spend my afternoons riding with Miss Poole, who used to look well on horseback. We often passed Peck plodding along alone, stolid and solemn, "taking his constitutional," he said. I remember once as we passed him I recalled what the old professor had said of him, and I added that I would not be as dull as Peck for a fortune. "Do you know," said Miss Poole, suddenly, "I do not think him so dull; he has improved." Peck sat me out a few nights after this, and next day I nearly insulted him; but he was too dull to see it.

I knew my young lady was ambitious; so I determined to please her, and, chucking up the fight for the attorneyship, I told her I was going to Congress, and began to work for it. I was promised the support of so many politicians that I felt absolutely sure of the nomination.

Peck told me flatly that I did not stand the ghost of a show; and began to figure. Peck was always figuring. He advised me to stand for the attorneyship, and said I might get it if I really tried. I knew better, however, and I knew Peck, too, so I started in. To make a fight I wanted money, and it happened that a little trip I had taken in the summer, when I was making a sort of a splurge, together with an unlooked-for and wholly inexplicable adverse turn in the market had taken all my cash. So, to make it up, I went into the biggest deal I ever tried. What was the use of fooling about a few score dollars a point when I could easily make it a thousand? I would no longer play at the shilling-table. I had a "dead-open-and-shut thing" of it. I had gotten inside information of a huge railroad deal quietly planned, and was let in as a great favor by influential friends, who were close friends of men who were manipulating the market, and especially the P. D. and B. D., a North-western road which had been reorganized some years before. Mr. Poole had some interest in it and this made me feel quite safe as to the deal. I knew they were staking their fortunes on it. I was so sure about it that I even advised Peck, for whom I had some gratitude on account of his advice about the attorneyship, to let me put him in for a little. But he declined. He said he had other use for his money and had made it a rule not to speculate. I told him he was a fool, and I borrowed all I could and went in.

It was the most perfectly managed affair I ever saw. We--our friends--carried the stock up to a point that was undreamed of, and money was too valuable to pay debts with, even had my creditors wanted it, which they did not, now that I had recouped and was again on the crest of the wave. I was rich and was doubling up in a pyramid, when one of those things happened that does not occur once in ten million times and cannot be guarded against! We were just prepared to dump the whole business, when our chief backer, as he was on his way in his carriage to close the deal, was struck by lightning! I was struck by the same bolt. In twenty minutes I was in debt twenty thousand dollars. Telegrams and notices for margin began to pour in on me again within the hour. None of them bothered me so much, however, as a bank notice that I had overchecked an account in which I had a sum of a few hundred dollars belonging to a client of mine--an old widowed lady, Mrs. Upshur, who had brought it to me to invest for her, and who trusted me. She had been robbed by her last agent and this was really all that was left her. I remembered how she had insisted on my keeping it for her against the final attack of the wolf, she had said. "But suppose I should spend it," I had said jesting. "I'm not afraid of your spending it, but of myself--I want so many things. If I couldn't trust you, I'd give up." And now it was gone. It came to me that if I should die at that moment she would think I had robbed her, and would have a right to think so. I swear that at the thought I staggered, and since then I have always known how a thief must sometimes feel. It decided me, however. I made up my mind that second that I would never again buy another share of stock on a margin as long as I lived, and I wrote telegrams ordering every broker I had to sell me out and send me my accounts, and I mortgaged my old home for all I could get. I figured that I wanted just one hundred dollars more than I had. I walked across the hall into Peck's little dark office. He was poring over a brief. I said, "Peck, I am broke."

"What? I am sorry to hear it--but I am not surprised." He was perfectly cool, but did look sorry.

"Peck," I went on, "I saw you pricing a watch the other day. Here is one I gave three hundred dollars for." I showed him a fine chronometer repeater I had bought in my flush time.

"I can't give over a hundred dollars for a watch," he said.

"How much will you give me for this?"

"You mean with the chain?"

"Yes"--I had not meant with the chain, but I thought of old Mrs. Upshur.

"I can't give over a hundred."

"Take it," and I handed it to him and he gave me a hundred-dollar bill, which I took with the interest and handed, myself, to my old lady, whom I advised to let Peck invest for her on a mortgage. This he did, and I heard afterward netted her six per cent--for a time.

That evening I went to see Lilian Poole. I had made up my mind quickly what to do. That stroke of lightning had showed me everything just as it was, in its ghastliest detail. If she accepted me, I would begin to work in earnest, and if she would wait, as soon as I could pay my debts, I would be ready; if not, then--! However, I walked right in and made a clean breast of it, and I told her up and down that if she would marry me I would win. I shall never forget the picture as she stood by the heavy marble mantel in her father's rich drawing-room, tall and uncompromising and very handsome. She might have been marble herself, like the mantel, she was so cold, and I, suddenly aroused by the shock, was on fire with resolve and fierce hunger for sympathy. She did not hesitate a moment; and I walked out. She had given me a deep wound. I saw the sun rise in the streets.

Within two weeks I had made all my arrangements; had closed up my affairs; given up everything in the world I had; executed my notes to my creditors and told them they were not worth a cent unless I lived, in which case they would be worth principal and interest; sold my law books to Peck for a price which made his eyes glisten, had given him my office for the unexpired term, and was gone to the West.

The night before I left I called to see the young lady again--a piece of weakness. But I hated to give up.

She looked unusually handsome.

I believe if she had said a word or had looked sweet at me I might have stayed, and I know I should have remained in love with her. But she did neither. When I told her I was going away, she said, "Where?" That was every word--in just such a tone as if she had met me on the corner, and I had said I was going to walk. She was standing by the mantel with her shapely arm resting lightly on the marble. I said, "God only knows, but somewhere far enough away."

"When are you coming back?"

"Never."

"Oh, yes, you will," she said coolly, arranging a bracelet, so coolly that it stung me like a serpent and brought me on my feet.

"I'll be--! No, I will not," I said. "Good-by."

"Good-by." She gave me her hand and it was as cool as her voice.

"Good-by." And mine was as cold as if I were dead. I swear, I believe sometimes I did die right there before her and that a new man took my place within me. At any rate my love for her died, slain by the ice in her heart; and the foolish fribble I was passed into a man of resolution.

As I walked out of her gate, I met Peck going in, and I did not care. I did not even hate him. I remember that his collar was up to his ears. I heard afterward that she accepted him that same week. For some inexplicable reason I thought of John Marvel as I walked home. I suddenly appeared nearer to him than I had done since I left college, and I regretted not having answered his simple, affectionate letters.

I started West that night.

VII

THE HEGIRA

In my ménage was a bull-terrier puppy--brindled, bow-legged and bold--at least, Jeams declared Dix to be a bull-pup of purest blood when he sold him to me for five dollars and a suit of clothes that had cost sixty. I found later that he had given a quarter for him to a negro stable-boy who had been sent to dispose of him. Like the American people, he was of many strains; but, like the American people, he proved to have good stuff in him, and he had the soul of a lion. One eye was bleared, a memento of some early and indiscreet insolence to some decisive-clawed cat; his ears had been crookedly clipped and one perked out, the other in, and his tail had been badly bobbed; but was as expressive as the immortal Rab's eloquent stump. He feared and followed Jeams, but he adored me. And to be adored by woman or dog is something for any man to show at the last day. To lie and blink at me by the hour was his chief occupation. To crawl up and lick my hand, or failing that, my boot, was his heaven.

I always felt that, with all my faults, which none knew like myself, there must be some basic good in me to inspire so devoted a love.

When I determined to leave for the West the night of my final break with Lilian Poole, in my selfishness I forgot Dix; but when I reached home that night, sobered and solitary, there was Dix with his earnest, adoring gaze, his shrewd eye fixed on me, and his friendly twist of the back. His joy at my mere presence consoled me and gave me spirit, though it did not affect my decision.

Jeams, who had followed me from college, at times hung around my office, carried Miss Poole my notes and flowers and, in the hour of my prosperity, blossomed out in a gorgeousness of apparel that partly accounted for my heavy expense account, as well as for the rapid disappearance of the little private stock I occasionally kept or tried to keep in a deceptive-looking desk which I used as a sideboard for myself and friends. He usually wore an old suit of mine, in which he looked surprisingly well, but on occasions he wore a long-tailed coat, a red necktie and a large soft, light hat which, cocked on the side of his head, gave him the air of an Indian potentate. I think he considered himself in some sort a partner. He always referred to me and my business as "us" and "our" business, and, on some one's asking him derisively if he were a partner of mine, he replied, "Oh, no, sir, only what you might term a minor connectee of the Captain." He was, however, a very useful fellow, being ready to do anything in the world I ordered, except when he was tight or had some piece of rascality on foot--occasions by no means rare. He wore, at election time, a large and flaming badge announcing that he was something in his party--the opposite party to mine; but I have reason to believe that when I was in politics he perjured himself freely and committed other crimes against the purity of the ballot on which economists declare all Representative Government is founded. One of my ardent friends once informed me that he thought I ought not to allow Jeams to wear that badge--it was insulting me openly. I told him that he was a fool, that I was so afraid Jeams would insist on my wearing one, too, I was quite willing to compromise. In fact, I had gotten rather dependent on him. Then he and I held such identical views as to Peck, not to mention some other mutual acquaintances, and Jeams could show his contempt in such delightfully insolent ways.

I had intimated to Jeams some time before, immediately after my first serious reverse in the stock market, that I was no longer as flush as I had been, and that unless affairs looked up I might move on to fresh pastures--or, possibly, I put it, to a wider field for the exercise of my powers; whereupon he promptly indicated his intention to accompany me and share my fortune. But I must say, he showed plainly his belief that it was a richer pasture which I was contemplating moving into, and he viewed the prospect with a satisfaction much like that of a cat which, in the act of lapping milk, has cream set before it. The only thing that puzzled him was that he could not understand why I wanted more than I had. He said so plainly.

"What you want to go 'way for, Cap'n? Whyn't you stay where you is? You done beat 'em all--evy one of 'em----"

"Oh! no, I haven't."

"Go 'way f'om here--you is an' you know you is--dthat's the reason you carry yo' head so high." (He little knew the true reason.) "An' if you hadn't, all you got to do is to walk in yonder--up yonder (with a toss of his head in the direction of Miss Poole's home), an' hang up your hat, and den you ain got nuthin' to do but jus' write yo' checks."

I laughed at Jeams's idea of the situation, and of old Poole's son-in-law's position. But it was rather a bitterer laugh than he suspected. To soothe my conscience and also to draw him out, I said, though I did not then really think it possible:

"Why, she's going to marry Peck."

Jeams turned around and actually spat out his disgust.

"What, dthat man!" Then, as he looked at me to assure himself that I was jesting, and finding a shade less amusement in my countenance than he had expected, he uttered a wise speech.

"Well, I tell you, Cap'n--if dthat man gits her he ought to have her, 'cause he done win her an' you ain't know how to play de game. You done discard de wrong card."

I acknowledged in my heart that he had hit the mark, and I laughed a little less bitterly, which he felt--as did Dix, lying against my foot which he suddenly licked twice.

"An' I'll tell you another thing--you's well rid of her. Ef she likes dthat man bes', let him have her, and you git another one. Der's plenty mo,' jes' as good and better, too, and you'll meck her sorry some day. Dthat's de way I does. If dey wants somebody else, I let's 'em have 'em. It's better to let 'em have 'em befo' than after."

When Jeams walked out of my room, he had on a suit which I had not had three months, and a better suit than I was able to buy again in as many years. But he had paid me well for it. I had in mind his wise saying when I faced Lilian Poole without a cent on earth, with all gone except my new-born resolution and offered her only myself, and as I walked out of her gate I consoled myself with Jeams's wisdom.

When I left Miss Poole I walked straight home, and having let nobody know, I spent the evening packing up and destroying old letters and papers and odds and ends; among them, all of Lilian Poole's letters and other trash. At first, I found myself tending to reading over and keeping a few letters and knickknacks; but as I glanced over the letters and found how stiff, measured, and vacant her letters were as compared with my burning epistles, in which I had poured out my heart, my wrath rose, and I consigned them all to the flames, whose heat was the only warmth they had ever known.

I was in the midst of this sombre occupation, with no companion but my angry reflections and no witness but Dix, who was plainly aware that something unusual was going on and showed his intense anxiety, in the only method that dull humanity has yet learned to catalogue as Dog-talk: by moving around, wagging his stump of a twist-tail and making odd, uneasy sounds and movements. His evident anxiety about me presently attracted my attention, and I began to think what I should do with him. I knew old Mrs. Upshur would take and care for him as she would for anything of mine; but Dix, though the best tempered of canines, had his standards, which he lived up to like a gentleman, and he brooked no insolence from his inferiors or equals and admitted no superiors. Moreover, he needed out-door exercise as all sound creatures do, and this poor, old decrepit Mrs. Upshur could not give him. I discarded for one reason or another my many acquaintances, and gradually Jeams took precedence in my mind and held it against all reasoning. He was drunken and worthless--he would possibly, at times, neglect Dix, and at others, would certainly testify his pride in him and prove his confidence by making him fight; but he adored the dog and he feared me somewhat. As I wavered there was a knock and Jeams walked in. He was dressed in my long frock coat and his large, gray hat was on the back of his head--a sure sign that he was tight, even had not his dishevelled collar and necktie and his perspiring countenance given evidence of his condition. As he stood in the door, his hand went up to his hat; but at sight of the room, he dropped it before he could reach the hat and simply stared at me in blank amazement.

"Hi! What you doin'?" he stammered.

"Packing up."

"Where you goin'?"

"Going away."

"When you comin' back?"

"Never."

"What! Well, damned if I ain' gwine wid you, then."

The tone was so sincere and he was evidently so much in earnest that a lump sprang into my throat. I turned away to keep him from seeing that I was moved, and it was to keep him still from finding it out, that I turned on him with well feigned savageness as he entered the room.

"You look like going with me, don't you! You drunken scoundrel! Take your hat off, sir"--for in his confusion he had wholly forgotten his manners. They now came back to him.

"Ixcuse me--Cap'n" (with a low bow). "Ixcuse me, suh. I al'ays removes my hat in the presence of the ladies and sech distinguished gent'mens as yourself, suh; but, Cap'n----"

"Drunken rascal!" I muttered, still to hide my feeling.

"Cap'n--I ain' drunk--I'll swear I ain' had a drink not in--" He paused for an appropriate term and gave it up. "--Not in--I'll swear on a stack of Bibles as--as high as Gen'l Washin's monument--you bring it heah--is you got a Bible? You smell my breath!"

"Smell your breath! I can't smell anything but your breath. Open that window!"

"Yes, suh," and the window was meanderingly approached, but not reached, for he staggered slightly and caught on a chair.

"Cap'n, I ain' had a drink for a year--I'll swear to dthat. I'll prove it to you. I ain' had a cent to buy one wid in a month--I was jus' comin' roun' to ast you to gi' me one--jus' to git de dust out o' my throat."

"Dust! Clean those things up there and get some dust in your throat."

"Yes, suh--yes, suh--Cap'n"--insinuatingly, as his eye fell on Dix, who was standing looking attentively first at me and then at Jeams, completely mystified by my tone, but ready to take a hand if there was any need for him. "Cap'n----"

"Well, what is it? What do you want now?"

"Will you lend me a hundred?"

"A hundred dollars?"

"Yes, suh--you see----"

"No. I'll give you a hundred licks if you don't get to work and clean up that floor."

"Cap'n--yes, suh--I'm gwine to clean 't up--but, Cap'n----"

"Well?"

"I'll let you in--jes' len' me ten--or five--or jes' one dollar--hit's a cinch--Lord! I can meck ten for one jist as easy--Dee don' know him--Dee think he ain' nuthing but a cur dawg--dats what I told 'em. And I'll meck you all de money in the worl'--I will dat."

"What are you talking about?"

"Well, you see, hits dthis away--I wouldn't bother you if dat yaller bar-keeper nigger hadn' clean me up wid them d----d loaded bones of hisn--jis' stole it from me--yes, suh--jis'----"

"Cleaned you up? When?"

"Dthis very evenin'--I had seventeen dollars right in my pocket, heah. You ax Mr. Wills if I didn't. He seen me have it--I had jes' got it, too----"

"You liar--you just now told me you hadn't had a cent in a month, and now you say you had seventeen dollars this evening." Jeams reared himself up.

"I toll you dthat?" He was now steadying himself with great gravity and trying to keep his eyes fixed on me.

"Yes."

"No, sir. I never toll you dthat in this worl'! 'Cause 'twould a been a lie--and I wouldn' tell you a lie for nuthin' on earth--I never had no seventeen dollars."

"I know you didn't--I know that's true, unless you stole it; but you said----"

"No, sir--what I said was--dthat if you'd len' me seventeen dollars I'd take Dix there and kill any dawg dthat yaller nigger up yonder in the Raleigh Hotel could trot out--I didn' keer what he was--and I said I'd--give you a hundred dollars out of the skads I picked up--dthat's what I said, and you got it wrong."

"You'll do what?"

"You see, hit's this away--dthat big-moufed, corn-fed yaller nigger--he was allowin' dthat Mr. Mulligan had a dawg could chaw up any dawg dis side o' torment, and I 'lowed him a ten dthat I had one 's could lick H--l out o' any Mulligan or Mulligan's dawg top o' groun'--'n' dthat you'd len' me th' ten to put up."

"Well, you've lost one ten anyway--I won't lend you a cent, and if I catch you fighting Dix, I'll give you the worst lambing you ever had since Justice John had you skinned for stealing those chickens."

Jeams threw up his eyes in reprobation.

"Now, Cap'n--you know I never stole dem stags--dthat old jestice he jes' sentenced me 'cause you was my counsel an' cause' I was a nigger an' he had'n had a chance at me befo'--I bet if I'd give' him half de money 'sted o' payin' you, he'd a' let me off mighty quick."

"Pay me! you never paid me a cent in your life."

"Well, I promised to pay you, didn' I? An' ain't dthat de same thin'?"

"Not by a big sight----"

"Dthat's de way gent'mens does."

"Oh! do they?"

Jeams came back to the main theme.

"Mr. Hen, ain' you gwine let me have dem ten dollars, sho' 'nough? Hit's jes' like pickin' money up in de road: Dix kin kill dat dawg befo' you ken say Jack Roberson."

"Jeams," I said, "look at me!"

"Yes, suh, I'm lookin'," and he was.

"I am going away to-night----"

"Well, I'm gwine width you, I ain' gwine stay heah by myself after you and Dix is gone."

"No, you can't do that. I don't know yet exactly where I am going, I have not yet decided. I am going West--to a big city."

"Dthat's where I want to go--" interrupted Jeams.

"And when I get settled I'll send for Dix--I'm going to leave him with you."

"Yes, suh, I'll teck keer of him sure. I'll match him against any dawg in dthis town--he can kill dthat dawg of dthat yaller nigger's----"

"No, if you put him in a fight, I'll kill you the first time I see you--d'you hear?"

"Yes, suh--I ain' gwine put him in no fight. But ef he gits in a fight--you know he's a mighty high-spirited dawg--he don' like dawgs to come nosin' roun' him. Hit sort o' aggrivates him. An' ef he should----?"

"I'll whip you as sure as you live----"

"Jes' ef he should?"

"Yes--if you let him."

"No, suh, I ain' gwine let him. You lef him wid me."

And though I knew that he was lying, I was content to leave the dog with him; for I was obliged to leave him with someone, and I knew he loved this dog and hoped my threat would, at least, keep him from anything that might hurt him.

I drifted out to the Club later and casually dropped the information that I was going away. I do not think it made much impression on my friends there--in fact, I hardly think they took the information seriously. They were a kindly lot, but took life and me lightly.

When I left town at midnight, the rain was pouring down and there was no one at the dreary station to see me off but Jeams and Dix, and as the train pulled out I stood on the platform to say good-by to Jeams, who was waving his right hand sadly, while with the other he gripped the collar of the dejected Dix who, with his eyes on me, struggled spasmodically and viciously.

Suddenly Dix turned on his captor with a snarl and snap which startled Jeams so that he let him go, then whirling about, he tore after the train which was just beginning to quicken its speed. He had to rush over ties and switch-rods, but he caught up and made a spring for the step. He made good his footing, but Jeams was running and waving wildly and, with his voice in my ears, I pushed the dog off with my foot and saw him roll over between the tracks. Nothing daunted, however, he picked himself up, and with another rush, sprang again for the step. This time only his forefeet caught and he hung on by them for a second, then began to slip--inch by inch he was slipping off as I stood watching him, when, under an impulse, fearing that he might be killed, I hastily, and with a sudden something in my throat, reached down and caught him just in time to pull him up, and taking him in my arms I bore him into the car. I confess that, as I felt him licking my hands, a warmer feeling than I had had for some time came around my heart which had been like a lump of ice during these last days, and I was glad no one was near by who knew me. I made up my mind that, come what might, I would hold on to my one faithful friend.

VIII

PADAN-ARAM

I first went to the town in which lived the relative, the cousin of my father's whom I have mentioned. It was a bustling, busy city and he was reputed the head of the Bar in his State--a man of large interests and influence. I knew my father's regard for him. I think it was this and his promise about me that made me go to him now. I thought he might help me, at least with advice; for I had his name.

I left my trunk and Dix at the hotel and called on him at his large office. In my loneliness, I was full of a new-born feeling of affection for this sole kinsman. I thought, perhaps, he might possibly even make me an offer to remain with him and eventually succeed to his practice. I had not seen him two seconds, however, before I knew this was folly. When I had sent in my name by an obtrusive-eyed office-boy, I was kept waiting for some time in the outer office where the office-boy loudly munched an apple, and a couple of clerks whispered to each other with their eyes on the private office-door. And when I was ushered in, he gave me a single keen look as I entered and went on writing without asking me to sit down, and I would not sit without an invitation. When he had finished he looked up, and nodded his head with a sort of jerk toward a chair. He was a large man with a large head, short gray hair, a strong nose, a heavy chin, and gray eyes close together, without the kindliness either of age or of youth. I took a step toward him and in some embarrassment began to speak rapidly. I called him "Cousin," for blood had always counted for a great deal with us, and I had often heard my father speak of him with pride. But his sharp look stopped me.

"Take a seat," he said, more in a tone of command than of invitation, and called me "Mister." It was like plunging me into a colder atmosphere. I did not sit down, but I was so far into my sentence I could not well stop. So I went on and asked him what he thought of my settling there, growing more and more embarrassed and hot with every word.

"Have you any money?" he asked shortly.

"Not a cent."

"Well, I have none to lend you. You need not count on me. I would advise--" But I did not wait for him to finish. I had got hold of myself and was self-possessed enough now.

"I did not ask you to lend me any money, either," I said, straightening myself up. "I did ask you to give me some advice; but now I do not want that or anything else you have, d----n you! I made a mistake in coming to you, for I am abundantly able to take care of myself."

Of course, I know now that he had something on his side. He supposed me a weak, worthless dog, if not a "dead-beat." But I was so angry with him I could not help saying what I did. I stalked out and slammed the door behind me with a bang that made the glass in the sash rattle; and the two or three young men, busy in the outer office, looked up in wonder. I went straight to the hotel and took the train to the biggest city my money would get me to. I thought a big city offered the best chances for me, and, at least, would hide me. I think the fact that I had once written a brief for Mr. Poole in the matter of his interest in car lines there influenced me in my selection.

I travelled that night and the next day and the night following, and partly because my money was running low and partly on Dix's account, I rode in a day-coach. The first night and day passed well enough, but the second night I was tired and dusty and lonely.

On the train that night I spent some serious hours. Disappointment is the mother of depression and the grandmother of reflection. I took stock of myself and tried to peer into the dim and misty future, and it was gloomy work. Only one who has started out with the world in fee, and after throwing it away in sheer recklessness of folly, suddenly hauls up to find himself bankrupt of all he had spurned in his pride: a homeless and friendless wanderer on the face of the earth, may imagine what I went through. I learned that night what the exile feels; I dimly felt what the outcast experiences. And I was sensible that I had brought it all on myself. I had wantonly wasted all my substance in riotous living and I had no father to return to--nothing, not even swine to keep in a strange land. I faced myself on the train that night, and the effigy I gazed on I admitted to be a fool.

The train, stuffy and hot, lagged and jolted and stopped, and still I was conscious of only that soul-shifting process of self-facing. The image of Peck, the tortoise, haunted me. At times I dozed or even slept very soundly; though doubled up like a jack-knife, as I was, I could not efface myself even in my sleep. But when I waked, there was still myself--grim, lonely, homeless--haunting me like a stabbed corpse chained to my side.