Ruth had not seen Bailey since the afternoon when he had called towarn her against Basil Milbank. Whether it was offended dignity thatkept him away, or merely pressure of business, she did not know.
That pressure of business existed, she was aware. The papers were full,and had been full for several days, of wars and rumours of wars down inWall Street; and, though she understood nothing of finance, she knewthat Bailey was in the forefront of the battle. Her knowledge was basedpartly on occasional references in the papers to the firm of Bannister& Co. and partly on what she heard in society.
She did not hear all that was said in society about Bailey's financialoperations--which, as Bailey had the control of her money, wasunfortunate for her. The manipulation of money bored her, and she hadleft the investing of her legacy entirely to Bailey. Her father, sheknew, had always had a high opinion of Bailey's business instincts, andthat was good enough for her.
She could not know how completely revolutionized the latter's mind hadbecome since the old man's death, and how freedom had turned him from asteady young man of business to a frenzied financier.
It was common report now that Bailey was taking big chances. Some wentso far as to say that he was "asking for it," "it" in his case beingpresumably the Nemesis which waits on those who take big chances in anuncertain market. It was in the air that he was "going up against" thePinkey-Dowd group and the Norman-Graham combination, and everybody knewthat the cemeteries of Wall Street were full of the unhonoured gravesof others who in years past had attempted to do the same.
Pinkey, that sinister buccaneer, could have eaten a dozen Baileys.
Devouring aspiring young men of the Bailey type was Norman's chiefdiversion.
Ruth knew nothing of these things. She told herself that it was herabruptness that had driven Bailey away.
Weariness and depression had settled on Ruth since that afternoon ofthe storm. It was as if the storm had wrought an awakening in her. Ithad marked a definite point of change in her outlook. She felt as ifshe had been roused from a trance by a sharp blow.
If Steve had but known, she had had the "jolt" by which he set suchstore. She knew now that she had thrown away the substance for theshadow.
Kirk's anger, so unlike him, so foreign to the weak, easy-going personshe had always thought him, had brought her to herself. But it was toolate. There could be no going back and picking up the threads. She hadlost him, and must bear the consequences.
The withdrawal of Bailey was a small thing by comparison, a submotivein the greater tragedy. But she had always been fond of Bailey, and ithurt her to think that she should have driven him out of her life.
It seemed to her that she was very much alone now. She was marooned ona desert island of froth and laughter. Everything that mattered she hadlost.
Even Bill had gone from her. The bitter justice of Kirk's words camehome to her now in her time of clear thinking. It was all true. In thefirst excitement of the new life he had bored her. She had looked uponMrs. Porter as a saviour who brought her freedom together with an easyconscience. It had been so simple to deceive herself, to cheat herselfinto the comfortable belief that all that could be done for him wasbeing done, when, as concerned the essential thing, as Kirk had said,there was no child of the streets who was not better off.
She tramped her round of social duties mechanically. Everything boredher now. The joy of life had gone out of her. She ate the bread ofsorrow in captivity.
And then, this morning, had come a voice from the world she hadlost--little Mrs. Bailey's voice, small and tearful.
Could she possibly come out by the next train? Bailey was very ill.
Bailey was dying. Bailey had come home last night looking ghastly. Hehad not slept. In the early morning he had begun to babble--Mrs.
Bailey's voice had risen and broken on the word, and Ruth at the otherend of the wire had heard her frightened sobs. The doctor had come. Thedoctor had looked awfully grave. The doctor had telephoned to New Yorkfor another doctor. They were both upstairs now. It was awful, and Ruthmust come at once.
This was the bad news which had brought about the pallor which hadimpressed Mr. Keggs as he helped Ruth into her cab.
Little Mrs. Bailey was waiting for her on the platform when she got outof the train. Her face was drawn and miserable. She looked like abeaten kitten. She hugged Ruth hysterically.
"Oh, my dear, I'm so glad you've come. He's better, but it has beenawful. The doctors have had to _fight_ him to keep him in bed. Hewas crazy to get to town. He kept saying over and over again that hemust be at the office. They gave him something, and he was asleep whenI left the house."She began to cry helplessly. The fates had not bestowed upon SybilBannister the same care in the matter of education for times of crisiswhich they had accorded to Steve's Mamie. Her life till now had beensheltered and unruffled, and disaster, swooping upon her, had found heran easy victim.
She was trying to be brave, but her powers of resistance were smalllike her body. She clung to Ruth as a child clings to its mother. Ruth,as she tried to comfort her, felt curiously old. It occurred to herwith a suggestion almost of grotesqueness that she and Sybil had beendebutantes in the same season.
They walked up to the house. The summer cottage which Bailey had takenwas not far from the station. On the way, in the intervals of her sobs,Sybil told Ruth the disjointed story of what had happened.
Bailey had not been looking well for some days. She had thought it mustbe the heat or business worries or something. He had not eaten verymuch, and he had seemed too tired to talk when he got home eachevening. She had begged him to take a few days' rest. That had been theonly occasion in the whole of the last week when she had heard himlaugh; and it had been such a horrid, ugly sort of laugh that shewished she hadn't.
He had said that if he stayed away from the office for some time tocome it would mean love in a cottage for them for the rest of theirlives--and not a summer cottage at Tuxedo at that. "'My dear child,'"he had gone on, "and you know when Bailey calls me that," said Sybil,"it means that there is something the matter; for, as a rule, he nevercalls me anything but my name, or baby, or something like that."Which gave Ruth a little shock of surprise. Somehow the idea of thedignified Bailey addressing his wife as baby startled her. She wascertainly learning these days that she did not know people ascompletely as she had supposed. There seemed to be endless sides topeople's characters which had never come under her notice. A suddenmemory of Kirk on that fateful afternoon came to her and made herwince.
Mrs. Bailey continued: "'My dear child,' he went on, 'this week isabout the most important week you and I are ever likely to livethrough. It's the show-down. We either come out on top or we blow up.
It's one thing or the other. And if I take a few days' holiday just nowyou had better start looking about for the best place to sell yourjewellery.'
"Those were his very words," she said tearfully. "I remember them all.
It was so unlike his usual way of talking."Ruth acknowledged that it was. More than ever she felt that she did notknow the complete Bailey.
"He was probably exaggerating," she said for the sake of sayingsomething.
Sybil was silent for a moment.
"It isn't that that's worrying me," she went on then. "Somehow I don'tseem to care at all whether we come out right or not, so long as hegets well. Last night, when I thought he was going to die, I made up mymind that I couldn't go on living without him. I wouldn't have,either."This time the shock of surprise which came to Ruth was greater by ahundred-fold than the first had been. She gave a quick glance at Sybil.
Her small face was hard, and the little white teeth gleamed between herdrawn lips. It was the face, for one brief instant, of a fanatic. Thesight of it affected Ruth extraordinarily. It was as if she had seen anaked soul where she had never imagined a soul to be.
She had weighed Sybil in the same calm, complacent almost patronizingfashion in which she had weighed Bailey, Kirk, everybody. She had sether down as a delightful child, an undeveloped, feather-brained littlething, pleasant to spend an afternoon with, but not to be takenseriously by any one as magnificent and superior as Ruth Winfield. Andwhat manner of a man must Bailey be, Bailey whom she had always lookedon as a dear, but as quite a joke, something to be chaffed and made tolook foolish, if he was capable of inspiring love like this?
A wave of humility swept over her. The pygmies of her world werespringing up as giants, dwarfing her. The pinnacle of superiority onwhich she had stood so long was crumbling into dust.
She was finding herself. She winced again as the thought stabbed herthat she was finding herself too late.
They reached the house in silence, each occupied with her own thoughts.
The defiant look had died out of Sybil's face and she was once more achild, crying because unknown forces had hurt it. But Ruth was notlooking at her now.
She was too busy examining this new world into which she had beenabruptly cast, this world where dolls had souls and jokes lost theirpoint.
At the cottage good news awaited them. The crisis was past. Bailey wasdefinitely out of danger. He was still asleep, and sleeping easily. Ithad just been an ordinary breakdown, due to worrying and overwork, saidthe doctor, the bigger of the doctors, the one who had been summonedfrom New York.
"All your husband needs now, Mrs. Bannister, is rest. See that he iskept quiet. That's all there is to it."As if by way of a commentary on his words, a small boy on a bicyclerode up with a telegram.
Sybil opened it. She read it, and looked at Ruth with large eyes.
"From the office," she said, handing it to her.
Ruth read it. It was a C. D. Q., an S.O.S. from the front; an appealfor help from the forefront of the battle. She did not understand thedetails of it, but the purport was clear. The battle had begun, andBailey was needed. But Bailey lay sleeping in his tent.
She handed it back in silence. There was nothing to be done.
The second telegram arrived half an hour after the first. It differedfrom the first only in its greater emphasis. Panic seemed to be growingin the army of the lost leader.
The ringing of the telephone began almost simultaneously with thearrival of the second telegram. Ruth went to the receiver. A franticvoice was inquiring for Mr. Bannister even as she put it to her ear.
"This is Mrs. Winfield speaking," she said steadily, "Mr. Bannister'ssister. Mr. Bannister is very ill and cannot possibly attend to anybusiness."There was a silence at the other end of the wire. Then a voice, withthe calm of desperation, said: "Thank you." There was a pause. "Thankyou," said the voice again in a crushed sort of way, and the receiverwas hung up. Ruth went back to Sybil.
The hours passed. How she got through them Ruth hardly knew. Timeseemed to have stopped. For the most part they sat in silence. In theafternoon Sybil was allowed to see Bailey for a few minutes. Shereturned thoughtful. She kissed Ruth before she sat down, and once ortwice after that Ruth, looking up, found her eyes fixed upon her. Itseemed to Ruth that there was something which she was trying to say,but she asked no questions.
After dinner they sat out on the porch. It was a perfect night. Thecool dusk was soothing.
Ruth broke a long silence.
"Sybil!""Yes, dear?""May I tell you something?""Well?""I'm afraid it's bad news."Sybil turned quickly.
"You called up the office while I was with Bailey?"Ruth started.
"How did you know?""I guessed. I have been trying to do it all day, but I hadn't thepluck. Well?""I'm afraid things are about as bad as they can be. A Mr. Meadows spoketo me. He was very gloomy. He told me a lot of things which I couldn'tfollow, details of what had happened, but I understood all that wasnecessary, I'm afraid----""Bailey's ruined?" said Sybil quietly.
"Mr. Meadows seemed to think so. He may have exaggerated."Sybil shook her head.
"No. Bailey was talking to me upstairs. I expected it."There was a long silence.
"Ruth.""Yes?""I'm afraid--"Sybil stopped.
"Yes?"A sudden light of understanding came to Ruth. She knew what it was thatSybil was trying to say, had been trying to say ever since she spokewith Bailey.
"My money has gone, too? Is that it?"Sybil did not answer. Ruth went quickly to her and took her in herarms.
"You poor baby," she cried. "Was that what was on your mind, wonderinghow you should tell me? I knew there was something troubling you."Sybil began to sob.
"I didn't know how to tell you," she whispered.
Ruth laughed excitedly. She felt as if a great weight had been liftedfrom her shoulders--a weight which had been crushing the life out ofher. In the last few days the scales had fallen from her eyes and shehad seen clearly.
She realized now what Kirk had realized from the first, that what hadforced his life apart from hers had been the golden wedge of herfather's money. It was the burden of wealth that had weighed her downwithout her knowing it. She felt as if she had been suddenly set free.
"I'm dreadfully sorry," said Sybil feebly.
Ruth laughed again.
"I'm not," she said. "If you knew how glad I was you would becongratulating me instead of looking as if you thought I was going tobite you.""Glad!""Of course I'm glad. Everything's going to be all right again now.
Sybil dear, Kirk and I had the most awful quarrel the other day. We--weactually decided it would be better for us to separate. It was all myfault. I had neglected Kirk, and I had neglected Bill, and Kirkcouldn't stand it any longer. But now that this has happened, don't yousee that it will be all right again? You can't stand on your dignitywhen you're up against real trouble. If this had not happened, neitherof us would have had the pluck to make the first move; but now, yousee, we shall just naturally fall into each other's arms and be happyagain, he and I and Bill, just as we were before.""It must be lovely for you having Bill," said little Mrs. Baileywistfully. "I wish--"She stopped. There was a corner of her mind into which she could notadmit any one, even Ruth.
"Having him ought to have been enough for any woman." Ruth's voice wasserious. "It was enough for me in the old days when we were at thestudio. What fools women are sometimes! I suppose I lost my head,coming suddenly into all that money--I don't know why; for it was notas if I had not had plenty of time, when father was alive, to get usedto the idea of being rich. I think it must have been the unexpectednessof it. I certainly did behave as if I had gone mad. Goodness! I'm gladit's over and that we can make a fresh start.""What is it like being poor, Ruth? Of course, we were never very welloff at home, but we weren't really poor.""It's heaven if you're with the right man."Mrs. Bailey sighed.
"Bailey's the right man, as far as I'm concerned. But I'm wondering howhe will bear it, poor dear."Ruth was feeling too happy herself to allow any one else to be unhappyif she could help it.
"Why, of course he will be splendid about it," she said. "You'reletting your imagination run away with you. You have got the idea ofBailey and yourself as two broken creatures begging in the streets. Idon't know how badly Bailey will be off after this smash, but I do knowthat he will have all his brains and his energy left."Ruth was conscious of a momentary feeling of surprise that she shouldbe eulogizing Bailey in this fashion, and--stranger still--that sheshould be really sincere in what she said. But to-day seemed to havechanged everything, and she was regarding her brother with a new-bornrespect. She could still see Sybil's face as it had appeared in thatmemorable moment of self-revelation. It had made a deep impression uponher.
"A man like Bailey is worth a large salary to any one, even if he maynot be able to start out for himself again immediately. I'm notworrying about you and Bailey. You will have forgotten all about thiscrash this time next year." Sybil brightened up. She was by natureeasily moved, and Ruth's words had stimulated her imagination.
"He _is_ awfully clever," she said, her eyes shining.
"Why, this sort of thing happens every six months to anybody who hasanything to do with Wall Street," proceeded Ruth, fired by her ownoptimism. "You read about it in the papers every day. Nobody thinksanything of it."Sybil, though anxious to look on the bright side, could not quite riseto these heights of scorn for the earthquake which had shaken herworld.
"I hope not. It would be awful to go through a time like this again."Ruth reassured her, though it entailed a certain inconsistency on herpart. She had a true woman's contempt for consistency.
"Of course you won't have to go through it again. Bailey will becareful in future not to--not to do whatever it is that he has done."She felt that the end of her inspiring speech was a little weak, butshe did not see how she could mend it. Her talk with Mr. Meadows on thetelephone had left her as vague as before as to the actual details ofwhat had been happening that day in Wall Street. She remembered strayremarks of his about bulls, and she had gathered that something hadhappened to something which Mr. Meadows called G.R.D.'s, which hadevidently been at the root of the trouble; but there her grasp of highfinance ended.
Sybil, however, was not exigent. She brightened at Ruth's words as ifthey had been an authoritative pronouncement from an expert.
"Bailey is sure to do right," she said. "I think I'll creep in and seeif he's still asleep."Ruth, left alone on the porch, fell into a pleasant train of thought.
There was something in her mental attitude which amused her. Shewondered if anybody had ever received the announcement of financialruin in quite the same way before. Yet to her this attitude seemed theonly one possible.
How simple everything was now! She could go to Kirk and, as she hadsaid to Sybil, start again. The golden barrier between them hadvanished. One day had wiped out all the wretchedness of the last year.
They were back where they had started, with all the accumulatedexperience of those twelve months to help them steer their little shipclear of the rocks on its new voyage.
* * * * *She was roused from her dream by the sound of an automobile drawing upat the door. A voice that she recognised called her name. She wentquickly down the steps.
"Is that you, Aunt Lora?"Mrs. Porter, masterly woman, never wasted time in useless chatter.
"Jump in, my dear," she said crisply. "Your husband has stolen Williamand eloped with that girl Mamie (whom I never trusted) to Connecticut."
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