Kirk blinked. He closed his eyes and opened them again. The automobilewas still there, and he was still in it. Ruth was still gazing at himwith the triumphant look in her eyes. The chauffeur, silent emblem of asubstantial bank-balance, still sat stiffly at the steering-wheel.
"Rich?" Kirk repeated.
"Rich," Ruth assured him.
"I don't understand."Ruth's smile faded.
"Poor father----""Your father?""He died just after you sailed. Just before Bill got ill." She gave alittle sigh. "Kirk, how odd life is!""But-----""It was terrible. It was some kind of a stroke. He had been working toohard and taking no exercise. You know when he sent Steve away that timehe didn't engage anybody else in his place. He went back to his old wayof living, which the doctor had warned him against. He worked andworked, until one day, Bailey says, he fainted at the office. Theybrought him home, and he just went out like a burned-out candle. I--Iwent to him, but for a long time he wouldn't see me.
"Oh, Kirk, the hours I spent in the library hoping that he would let mecome to him! But he never did till right at the end. Then I went up,and he was dying. He couldn't speak. I don't know now how he felttoward me at the last. I kissed him. He was all shrunk to nothing. Ihad a horrible feeling that I had never been a real daughter to him.
But--but--you know, he made it difficult, awfully difficult. And thenhe died; Bailey was on one side of the bed and I was on the other, andthe nurse and the doctor were whispering outside the door. I could hearthem through the transom."She slipped her hand into Kirk's and sat silent while the car slid intothe traffic of Fifth Avenue. For the second time the shadow of theGreat Mystery had fallen on the brightness of the perfect morning.
The car had stopped at Thirty-Fourth Street to allow the hurryingcrowds to cross the avenue. Kirk looked at them with a feeling ofsadness. It was not caused by John Bannister's death. He was too honestto be able to plunge himself into false emotion at will. His feelingwas more a vague uneasiness, almost a presentiment. Things changed soquickly in this world. Old landmarks shifted as the crowd of strangerswas shifting before him now, hurrying into his life and hurrying out ofit.
He, too, had changed. Ruth, though he had detected no signs of it,must be different from the Ruth he had left a year ago. The old lifewas dead. What had the new life in store for him? Wealth for onething--other standards of living--new experiences.
An odd sensation of regret that this stream of gold had descended uponhim deepened his momentary depression. They had been so happy, he andRuth and the kid, in the old days of the hermit's cell. Something thatwas almost a superstitious fear of this unexpected legacy came uponhim.
It was unlucky money, grudgingly given at the eleventh hour. He seemedto feel John Bannister watching him with a sneer, and he was afraid ofhim. His nerves were still a little unstrung from the horror of hiswanderings, and the fever had left him weak. It seemed to him thatthere was a curse on the old man's wealth, that somehow it was destinedto bring him unhappiness.
The policeman waved his hand. The car jerked forward. The suddenmovement brought him to himself. He smiled, a little ashamed of havingbeen so fanciful; the sky was blue; the sun shone; a cool breeze putthe joy of life into him; and at his side Ruth sat, smiling now. Fromher, too, the cloud had been lifted.
"It seems like a fairy-story," said Kirk, breaking the silence that hadfallen between them.
"I think it must have been the thought of Bill that made him do it,"said Ruth. "He left half his money to Bailey and half to me during mylifetime. Bailey's married now, by the way." She paused. "I'm afraidfather never forgave you, dear," she added. "He made Bailey the trusteefor the money, and it goes to Bill in trust after my death."She looked at him rather nervously it seemed to Kirk. The terms of thewill had been the cause of some trouble to her. Especially had shespeculated on his reception of the news that Bailey was to play soimportant a part in the administration of the money. Kirk had nevertold her what had passed between him and Bailey that afternoon in thestudio, but her quick intelligence had enabled her to guess at thetruth; and she was aware that the minds of the two men, theirtemperaments, were naturally antagonistic.
Kirk's reception of the news relieved her.
"Of course," he said. "He couldn't do anything else. He knew nothing ofme except that I was a kind of man with whom he was quite out ofsympathy. He mistrusted all artists, I expect, in a bunch. And, anyway,an artist is pretty sure to be a bad man of business. He would knowthat. And--and, well, what I mean is, it strikes me as a very sensiblearrangement. Why are we stopping here?"The car had drawn up before a large house on the upper avenue, one ofthose houses which advertise affluence with as little reticence as afat diamond solitaire.
"We live here," said Ruth, laughing.
Kirk drew a long breath.
"Do we? By George!" he exclaimed. "I see it's going to take me quite awhile to get used to this state of things."A thought struck him.
"How about the studio? Have you got rid of it?""Of course not. The idea! After the perfect times we had there! We'regoing to keep it on as an annex. Every now and then, when we are tiredof being rich, we'll creep off there and boil eggs over the gas-stoveand pretend we are just ordinary persons again.""And oftener than every now and then this particular plutocrat is goingto creep off there and try to teach himself to paint pictures."Ruth nodded.
"Yes, I think you ought to have a hobby. It's good for you."Kirk said nothing. But it was not as a hobby that he was regarding hispainting. He had come to a knowledge of realities in the wilderness andto an appreciation of the fact that he had a soul which could not bekept alive except by honest work.
He had the decent man's distaste for living on his wife's money. Hesupposed it was inevitable that a certain portion of it must go to hissupport, but he was resolved that there should be in the sight of thegods who look down on human affairs at least a reasonable excuse forhis existence. If work could make him anything approaching a realartist, he would become one.
Meanwhile he was quite willing that Ruth should look upon his life-workas a pleasant pastime to save him from ennui. Even to his wife a man isnot always eager to exhibit his soul in its nakedness.
"By the way," said Ruth, "you won't find George Pennicut at the studio.
He has gone back to England.""I'm sorry. I liked George.""He liked you. He left all sorts of messages. He nearly wept when hesaid good-bye. But he wouldn't stop. In a burst of confidence he toldme what the trouble was. Our blue sky had got on his nerves. He wanteda London drizzle again. He said the thought of it made him homesick."Kirk entered the house thoughtfully. Somehow this last piece of newshad put the coping-stone on the edifice of his--his what? Depression? Itwas hardly that. No, it was rather a kind of vague regret for the lifewhich had so definitely ended, the feeling which the Romans called_desiderium_ and the Greeks _pathos_. The defection of GeorgePennicut was a small thing in itself, but it meant the removal ofanother landmark.
"We had some bully good times in that studio," he said.
The words were a requiem.
The first person whom he met in this great house, in the kingdom ofwhich he was to be king-consort, was a butler of incrediblestateliness. This was none other than Steve's friend Keggs. But roundthe outlying portions of this official he had perceived, as the dooropened, a section of a woman in a brown dress.
The butler moving to one side, he found himself confronting Mrs. LoraDelane Porter.
If other things in Kirk's world had changed, time had wrought in vainupon the great authoress. She looked as masterful, as unyielding, andas efficient as she had looked at the time of his departure. She tookhis hand without emotion and inspected him keenly.
"You are thinner," she remarked.
"I said that, Aunt Lora," said Ruth. "Poor boy, he's a skeleton.""You are not so robust.""I have been ill."Ruth interposed.
"He's had fever, Aunt Lora, and you are not to tease him.""I should be the last person to tease any man. What sort of fever?""I think it was a blend of all sorts," replied Kirk. "A kind of Irishstew of a fever.""You are not infectious?""Certainly not."Mrs. Porter checked Ruth as she was about to speak.
"We owe it to William to be careful," she explained. "After all thetrouble we have taken to exclude him from germs it is only reasonableto make these inquiries.""Come along, dear," said Ruth, "and I'll show you the house. Don't mindAunt Lora," she whispered; "she means well, and she really is splendidwith Bill."Kirk followed her. He was feeling chilled again. His old mistrust ofMrs. Porter revived. If their brief interview was to be taken asevidence, she seemed to have regained entirely her old ascendancy overRuth. He felt vaguely uneasy, as a man might who walks in a powdermagazine.
"Aunt Lora lives here now," observed Ruth casually, as they wentupstairs.
Kirk started.
"Literally, do you mean? Is this her home?"Ruth smiled at him over her shoulder.
"She won't interfere with you," she said. "Surely this great house islarge enough for the three of us. Besides, she's so devoted to Bill.
She looks after him all the time; of course, nowadays I don't get quiteso much time to be with him myself. One has an awful lot of calls onone. I feel Bill is so safe with Aunt Lora on the premises."She stopped at a door on the first floor.
"This is Bill's nursery. He's out just now. Mamie takes him for a driveevery morning when it's fine."Something impelled Kirk to speak.
"Don't you ever take him for walks in the morning now?" he asked. "Heused to love it.""Silly! Of course I do, when I can manage it. For drives, rather. AuntLora is rather against his walking much in the city. He might so easilycatch something, you know."She opened the door.
"There!" she said. "What do you think of that for a nursery?"If Kirk had spoken his mind he would have said that of all the ghastlynurseries the human brain could have conceived this was the ghastliest.
It was a large, square room, and to Kirk's startled eyes had much theappearance of an operating theatre at a hospital.
There was no carpet on the tiled floor. The walls, likewise tiled, wereso bare that the eye ached contemplating them. In the corner by thewindow stood the little white cot. Beside it on the wall hung a largethermometer. Various knobs of brass decorated the opposite wall. At thefarther end of the room was a bath, complete with shower and all theother apparatus of a modern tub.
It was probably the most horrible room in all New York.
"Well, what do you think of it?" demanded Ruth proudly.
Kirk gazed at her, speechless. This, he said to himself, was Ruth, hiswife, who had housed his son in the spare bedroom of the studio andallowed a shaggy Irish terrier to sleep on his bed; who had permittedhim to play by the hour in the dust of the studio floor, who had evenassisted him to do so by descending into the dust herself in the roleof a bear or a snake.
What had happened to this world from which he had been absent but oneshort year? Was everybody mad, or was he hopelessly behind the times?
"Well?" Ruth reminded him.
Kirk eyed the dreadful room.
"It looks clean," he said at last.
"It is clean," said the voice of Lora Delane Porter proudly behind him.
She had followed them up the stairs to do the honours of the nursery,the centre of her world. "It is essentially clean. There is not anobject in that room which is not carefully sterilized night and morningwith a weak solution of boric acid!""Even Mamie?" inquired Kirk.
It had been his intention to be mildly jocular, but Mrs. Porter's replyshowed him that in jest he had spoken the truth.
"Certainly. Have you any idea, Kirk, of the number of germs there areon the surface of the human body? It runs into billions. You"--shefixed him with her steely eye--"you are at the present moment one massof microbes.""I sneaked through quarantine all right.""To the adult there is not so much danger in these microbes, providedhe or she maintains a reasonable degree of personal cleanliness. Thatis why adults may be permitted to mix with other adults withoutpreliminary sterilization. But in the case of a growing child it isentirely different. No precaution is excessive. So----"From below at this point there came the sound of the front-door bell.
Ruth went to the landing and looked over the banisters.
"That ought to be Bill and Mamie back from their drive," she said.
The sound of a child's voice came to Kirk as he stood listening; and ashe heard it all the old feeling of paternal pride and excitement, whichhad left him during his wanderings, swept over him like a wave. Hereproached himself that, while the memory of Ruth had been with himduring every waking moment of the past year, there had been occasionswhen that of William Bannister had become a little faded.
He ran down the stairs.
"Hello, Mamie!" he said. "How are you? You're looking well."Mamie greeted him with the shy smile which was wont to cause such havocin Steve's heart.
"And who's this you've got with you? Mamie, you know you've no businessgoing about with young men like this. Who is he?"He stood looking at William Bannister, and William Bannister stoodlooking at him, Kirk smiling, William staring with the intense gravityof childhood and trying to place this bearded stranger among his circleof friends. He seemed to be thinking that the familiarity of theother's manner indicated a certain amount of previous acquaintanceship.
"Watch that busy brain working," said Kirk. "He's trying to place me.
It's all right, Bill, old man; it's my fault. I had no right to springmyself on you with eight feet of beard. It isn't giving you a squaredeal. Never mind, it's coming off in a few minutes, never to return,and then, perhaps, you'll remember that you've a father.""Fa-a-a-ar!" shrieked William Bannister triumphantly, taking the cuewith admirable swiftness.
He leaped at Kirk, and Kirk swung him up inthe air. It was quite an effort, for William Bannister had grownastonishingly in the past year.
"Pop," said he firmly, as if resolved to prevent any possibility ofmistake. "Daddy," he added, continuing to play upon the theme. Hesummed up. "You're my pop."Then, satisfied that this was final and that there could now be nochance for Kirk to back out of the contract, he reached out a hand andgave a tug at the beard which had led to all the confusion.
"What's this?""You may well ask," said Kirk. "I got struck that way because I leftyou and mummy for a whole year. But now I'm back I'm going to beallowed to take it off and give it away. Whom shall I give it to?
Steve? Do you think Steve would like it? Yes, you can go on pulling it;it won't break. On the other hand, I should just like to mention thatit's hurting something fierce, my son. It's fastened on at the otherend, you know.""Why?""Don't ask me. That's the way it's built."William Bannister obligingly disentangled himself from the beard.
"Where you been?" he inquired.
"Miles and miles away. You know the Battery?"William Bannister nodded.
"Well, a long way past that. First I took a ship and went ever so manymiles. Then I landed and went ever so many more miles, with all sortsof beasts trying to bite pieces out of me."This interested William Bannister.
"Tigers?" he inquired.
"I didn't actually see any tigers, but I expect they were sneakinground. There were mosquitoes, though. You know what a mosquito is?"William nodded.
"Bumps," he observed crisply.
"That's right. You see this lump here, just above my mouth? Well,that's not a mosquito-bite; that's my nose; but think of somethingabout that size and you'll have some idea of what a mosquito-bite islike out there. But why am I boring you with my troubles? Tell me allabout yourself. You've certainly been growing, whatever else you mayhave been doing while I've been away; I can hardly lift you. Has Stevetaught you to box yet?"At this moment he was aware that he had become the centre of a smallgroup. Looking round he found himself gazing into a face so stiff withhorror and disapproval that he was startled almost into droppingWilliam. What could have happened to induce Mrs. Porter to look likethat he could not imagine; but her expression checked his flow of lightconversation as if it had been turned off with a switch. He loweredBill to the ground.
"What on earth's the matter?" he asked. "What has happened?"Without replying, Mrs. Porter made a gesture in the direction of thenursery, which had the effect of sending Mamie and her charge off againon the journey upstairs which Kirk's advent had interrupted. Billseemed sorry to go, but he trudged sturdily on without remark. Kirkfollowed him with his eyes till he disappeared at the bend of thestairway.
"What's the matter?" he repeated.
"Are you mad, Kirk?" demanded Mrs. Porter in a tense voice.
Kirk turned helplessly to Ruth.
"You had better let me explain, Aunt Lora," she said. "Of course Kirkcouldn't be expected to know, poor boy. You seem to forget that he hasonly this minute come into the house."Aunt Lora was not to be appeased.
"That is absolutely no excuse. He has just left a ship where he cannothave failed to pick up bacilli of every description. He has himselfonly recently recovered from a probably infectious fever. He is wearinga beard, notoriously the most germ-ridden abomination in existence."Kirk started. He was not proud of his beard, but he had not regarded itas quite the pestilential thing which it seemed to be in the eyes ofMrs. Porter.
"And he picks up the child!" she went on. "Hugs him! Kisses him! Andyou say he could not have known better! Surely the most elementarycommon sense--""Aunt Lora!" said Ruth.
She spoke quietly, but there was a note in her voice which acted onMrs. Porter like magic. Her flow of words ceased abruptly. It was asmall incident, but it had the effect of making Kirk, grateful as hewas for the interruption, somehow vaguely uneasy for a moment.
It seemed to indicate some subtle change in Ruth's character, some newquality of hardness added to it. The Ruth he had left when he sailedfor Colombia would, he felt, have been incapable of quelling hermasterful aunt so very decisively and with such an economy of words. Itsuggested previous warfare, in which the elder women had been subduedto a point where a mere exclamation could pull her up when she forgotherself.
Kirk felt uncomfortable. He did not like these sudden discoveries aboutRuth.
"I will explain to Kirk," she said. "You go up and see that everythingis right in the nursery."And--amazing spectacle!--off went Mrs. Porter without another word.
Ruth put her arm in Kirk's and led him off to the smoking-room.
"You may smoke a cigar while I tell you all about Bill," she said.
Kirk lit a cigar, bewildered. It is always unpleasant to be the personto whom things have to be explained.
"Poor old boy," Ruth went on, "you certainly are thin. But about Bill.
I am afraid you are going to be a little upset about Bill, Kirk. AuntLora has no tact, and she will make a speech on every possibleoccasion; but she was right just now. It really was rather dangerous,picking Bill up like that and kissing him."Kirk stared.
"I don't understand. Did you expect me to wave my hand to him? Or wouldit have been more correct to bow?""Don't be so satirical, Kirk; you wither me. No, seriously, you reallymustn't kiss Bill. I never do. Nobody does.""What!""I dare say it sounds ridiculous to you, but you were not here when hewas so ill and nearly died. You remember what I was telling you at thedock? About giving Whiskers away? Well, this is all part of it. Afterwhat happened I feel, like Aunt Lora, that we simply can't take toomany precautions. You saw his nursery. Well, it would be simply a wasteof money giving him a nursery like that if he was allowed to be exposedto infection when he was out of it.""And I am supposed to be infectious?""Not more than anybody else. There's no need to be hurt about it. It'sjust as much a sacrifice for me.""So nobody makes a fuss over Bill now--is that it?""Well, no. Not in the way you mean.""Pretty dreary outlook for the kid, isn't it?""It's all for his good.""What a ghastly expression!"Ruth left her chair and came and sat on the arm of Kirk's. She ruffledhis hair lightly with the tips of her fingers. Kirk, who had beendisposed to be militant, softened instantly. The action brought backa flood of memories. It conjured up recollections of peaceful eveningsin the old studio, for this had been a favourite habit of Ruth's. Itmade him feel that he loved her more than he had ever done in his life;and--incidentally--that he was a brute to try and thwart her in anythingwhatsoever.
"I know it's horrid for you, dear old boy," said Ruth coaxingly; "butdo be good and not make a fuss about it. Not kissing Bill doesn't meanthat you need be any the less fond of him. I know it will be strange atfirst--I didn't get used to it for ever so long--but, honestly, it isfor his good, however ghastly the expression of the thing may sound.""It's treating the kid like a wretched invalid," grumbled Kirk.
"You wait till you see him playing, and then you'll know if he's awretched invalid or not!""May I see him playing?""Don't be silly. Of course.""I thought I had better ask. Being the perambulating plague-spot I am,I was not taking any risks.""How horribly self-centred you are! You will talk as if you were insome special sort of quarantine. I keep on telling you it's the samefor all of us.""I suppose when I'm with him I shall have to be sterilized?""I don't think it necessary myself, but Aunt Lora does, so it's alwaysdone. It humours her, and it really isn't any trouble. Besides, it maybe necessary after all. One never knows, and it's best to be on thesafe side."Kirk laid down his cigar firmly, the cold cigar which stress of emotionhad made him forget to keep alight.
"Ruth, old girl," he said earnestly, "this is pure lunacy."Ruth's fingers wandered idly through his hair. She did not speak forsome moments.
"You will be good about it, won't you, Kirk dear?" she said at last.
It is curious what a large part hair and its treatment may play in theundoing of strong men. The case of Samson may be recalled in thisconnection. Kirk, with Ruth ruffling the wiry growth that hid hisscalp, was incapable of serious opposition. He tried to be morose andresolute, but failed miserably.
"Oh, very well," he grunted.
"That's a good boy. And you promise you won't go hugging Bill again?""Very well.""There's an angel for you. Now I'll fix you a cocktail as a reward.""Well, mind you sterilize it carefully."Ruth laughed. Having gained her point she could afford to. She made thecocktail and brought it to him.
"And now I'll be off and dress, and then you can take me out to lunchsomewhere.""Aren't you dressed?""My goodness, no. Not for going to restaurants. You forget that I'm oneof the idle rich now. I spend my whole day putting on different kindsof clothes. I've a position to keep up now, Mr. Winfield."Kirk lit a fresh cigar and sat thinking. The old feeling of desolationwhich had attacked him as he came up the bay had returned. He felt likea stranger in a strange world. Life was not the same. Ruth was not thesame. Nothing was the same.
The more he contemplated the new regulations affecting Bill thechillier and more unfriendly did they seem to him. He could not bringhimself to realize Ruth as one of the great army of cranks preachingand carrying out the gospel of Lora Delane Porter. It seemed so atvariance with her character as he had known it. He could not seriouslybring himself to believe that she genuinely approved of these absurdrestrictions. Yet, apparently she did.
He looked into the future. It had a grey and bleak aspect. He seemed tohimself like a man gazing down an unknown path full of unknown perils.
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