Chapter EIGHTEEN

It was late in the afternoon of the same day when Elijah came to the office. There was the old rush and swing in his motions, but there was also a tense, restless light in his eyes that told of a mind not at peace with itself; of a mind still determined, but lacking the old time confidence. He returned Helen's greeting effusively, but his manner was forced, not spontaneous. He went to his desk and began nervously rummaging the accumulated papers. Frequently he called Helen to him to help straighten some simple matter.

She bore his nervous petulance with patience, for she felt that she knew the cause of his agitation. In sheer desperation, Elijah was bent upon making trouble, knowing that in every detail he was wrong, knowing that even the cause of his agitation was of his own creation. The gossips of Ysleta told him this; told him in words that he could not twist into a defense of himself, and this increased his nervous petulance. He was wrong, terribly wrong, and he knew it, knew that he was trying to make wrong, right. Point after point he brought up with Helen, only to have each explained in a way that he was compelled to admit was without fault.

Helen was patient. She thought that she knew. Her own bitter suffering made her understand. Her heart went out in great throbs of sympathy toward the sorely tried man, who had done wrong and was repenting, even as she had done wrong and was now bent upon righting it.

At last, however, after an unusually severe and wholly unwarranted outburst, she threw down the paper which she held. Patience had ceased to be a virtue. It was a menace, not only to herself, but to the man toward whom it was exercised.

"There's no use going on in this way any longer, Elijah! There's no trouble where you are bent on finding it. It's in the beginning. Let's go back and straighten that out, then we can get somewhere."

"Well, what is it!" There was an exasperating twist in Elijah's words.

Helen passed it by.

"I've done wrong and I know it. I wanted to get ahead, and getting ahead meant money. I couldn't get into the Las Cruces--"

"I gave you the chance," interrupted Elijah.

Helen paid no heed to the interruption.

"So I began to look around for myself. You know the rest."

"There's no use going back to that." Elijah spoke impatiently.

"Yes there is use," Helen persisted. "You have done wrong and you know it. You're trying to square yourself by finding fault with me. It's no use. The farther you go, the worse off you are. The long and short of it is, you can't throw dust in your own eyes."

"I'm not trying to throw dust in my own eyes." The very vehemence of his denial gave the lie to his words.

"You are trying to, and you can't. Nothing can blind your eyes to the fact that you are a criminal."

Elijah's eyes were blazing through their narrowed lids.

"I won't allow even you to say such things to me."

"If you would only say them to yourself, it wouldn't be necessary. I hate to say it, Elijah, but,--you took fifty thousand dollars of the company's money. That's embezzlement. It's a crime." Helen voiced her long suppressed suspicion. "You smoothed it over by putting in its place your note for the amount, secured by your stock in the company."

"Have you been through my private papers?" Elijah burst out.

"That's not to the point; but no, I haven't."

"Then how do you know this?"

In spite of herself, in spite of her growing horror at the weakness of this man who had seemed so strong, Helen could not repress a touch of womanly sympathy in her reply.

"Because, Elijah, I know you."

Elijah was not to be turned easily from a real wrong. It was good to feel a just cause of resentment.

"You have no right to pry into my private affairs. I have given you no warrant for it."

"Yes, you have given me a right. I am associated with you in this business and I have a right to know. I wish you would tell me if I am right in my guess."

The impulse was strong in Elijah to attempt to deceive Helen even as he had long deceived himself, but there was a look in her eyes that weakened the impulse.

"Why?"

"Because that would square you with yourself. You could hunt a way out then, and I'm ready to help you. But you haven't answered my question yet. Am I right?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"Ralph and Uncle Sid were in to see you this morning."

"What about?"

"Seymour will be here soon--"

Elijah interrupted.

"Who's told Seymour?"

"When he comes," Helen went on, "he'll ask questions. He won't be particular about the questions; but he'll be mighty particular about the answers. You know what he'll ask, and you know what you'll be obliged to answer. Do you want to get ready, or do you want him to fall on you in a heap?"

Elijah could not conceal his agitation. He moistened his dry lips with his tongue. As he had argued with himself, so he began to argue now; not to Helen, but to the vision she had forced his eyes to see.

"I saved the company from loss. If Mellin had not been a friend of mine, he never would have warned me that the Pacific was going to fail. I saved the money for the company. I wanted the money, I needed it to carry on my work. I didn't embezzle it, I gave the company my note. It is secured at twice its value, by my entire holdings in the Las Cruces company." Elijah's face was drawn; his eyes had an eager, hunted look.

Was this pitiful creature the man who had so moved her? Helen would have given the world to have taken that look from his eyes; to have put in its place the clear, inspired light that had at first so drawn her to him; but she hardened her heart.

"Elijah, you're a hypocrite! You've got the instincts of a thief without his courage. This stuff doesn't go with me. You took the company's money. Make good or take the consequences."

Elijah sprang to his feet.

"My God, Helen! I won't listen to such things. You've no right to say them."

Helen calmed herself with an effort.

"I was quoting Mr. Seymour. Would you rather wait and hear him directly?"

Elijah made a pathetic gesture as he sank back in his chair.

"I didn't think you would turn on me like this, Helen."

Helen rose and placed her hand on Elijah's shoulder. He could not see her face, and she no longer tried to keep her eyes from showing the conflicting emotions that almost overpowered her.

"I haven't turned on you, Elijah. I'm not going to turn on you. I believe in you yet. We've made a mistake. We must find a way out."

"You made a mistake?"

"Yes. When you paid Pico the fifty thousand, I felt quite sure that a part of it must have come from the Las Cruces. I am as guilty as you are."

Before she could prevent, Elijah had snatched her hand from his shoulder and was pressing it to his lips. Helen wrenched her hand from his lips. As if drawn by her resisting hand he rose to his feet, his burning eyes resting on hers. In vain she tried to withdraw her hand from his fierce clasp.

"Don't leave me, Helen, don't leave me!" With wide open arms he sprang toward her.

With hardly a perceptible motion, she was beyond the reach of his outstretched hands. She had no palliating knowledge of his inner thoughts, no knowledge of the malevolent suggestions of Mrs. MacGregor, no knowledge of the scene in Elijah's house, where the lamplight fell on a tear-stained baby face, on blistered sheets with hopeless figures, upon renunciation, as Elijah closed the door and deliberately put his wife from him.

Helen stood erect, composed, her eyes filled with loathing, contempt, but not for Elijah alone. This was the hardest to bear. What had she said, what had she done to bring this horrible thing upon herself?

Elijah slowly grasped the meaning of Helen's eyes. She had not spoken. There was no need that she should speak.

"No! no! no! Helen, not that, not that; you don't understand."

"Stop! I won't listen. Not to a word."

"You will! You must!" There was no passion now either in words or looks, only a set determination to be heard.

Try as she would, Helen could not stop the explanation he offered, the palliation of his sins past and to come. Even as he had said, she was compelled to listen, but there was no softening of her eyes, no change in the set, hard face.

"You and I cannot stay any longer in this office. You will go or I." Elijah made as if to speak. "Stop!" Her voice was imperative. "I would be justified in leaving everything, but I began this wretched business and at whatever cost to myself, I will see it through."

Elijah felt the hopelessness of further words. Like one in a horrible dream, he turned to his desk and began to straighten his papers.

"I will attend to that. Go!"

Without a word or look, Elijah closed the office door behind him.

It required all Helen's fortitude to control herself. She attempted no self-palliation, she put this aside. She had been innocent of intentional wrong doing, but this made no difference. The fact was beyond recall. Only the future was hers in which to make atonement at whatever cost to herself.