The little room off the library was Jane's "den." Her father hada better name for it. He called it her "web," but only in secretconference. Graydon Bansemer lounged there in blissful contemplationof a roseate fate, all the more enjoyable because his very easewas the counterpoise of doubt and uncertainty. No word of love hadpassed between the mistress of the web and her loyal victim; buteyes and blood had translated the mysterious, voiceless languageof the heart into the simplest of sentences. They loved and theyknew it.
After leaving Rigby at the club Graydon drove to the North Side,thrilled to the marrow with the prophecies of the night. His heartwas in that little room off the library--and had been there formonths. It was the abode of his thoughts. The stars out above thecold, glittering lake danced merrily for him as he whirled up theDrive; the white carpet of February crinkled and creaked with thechill of the air, but his heart was hot and safe and sure. He knewthat she knew what he was coming for that night. The first kiss!
Jane's face was warm, her eyes had the tender glow of joy expectant,her voice was soft with the promise of coming surrender. Their handsmet and clasped as she stood to welcome him in the red, seductivedimness of the little throne room. His tall frame quivered; hislean, powerful, young face betrayed the hunger of his heart; hisvoice turned husky. It was not as he had planned. Her beauty--hermere presence--swept him past the preliminary fears and doubts. Hishandclasp tightened and his face drew resistlessly to hers. Thentheir hands went suddenly cold.
"You know, don't you, Jane, darling?" he murmured.
"Yes," she answered after a moment, softly, securely. He crushedher in his strong arms; all the world seemed to have closed inabout her. Her eyes, suffused with happiness, looked sweetly intohis until she closed them with the coming of the first kiss. "Ilove you--oh, I love you!" she whispered.
"I worship you, Jane!" he responded. "I have always worshippedyou!"
It was all so natural, so normal. The love that had been silent fromthe first had spoken, that was all--had put into words its untoldstory.
"Jane, I am the proudest being in the world!" he said, neither knewhow long afterward, for neither thought of time. They were sittingon the couch in the corner, their turbulent hearts at rest. "Tothink, after all, that such a beautiful being as you can be mineforever! It's--why, it's inconceivable!"
"You were sure of me all the time, Graydon," she remonstrated. "Itried to hide it, but I couldn't. You must have thought me a perfectfool all these months."
"You are very much mistaken, if you please. You did hide it sosuccessfully at times, that I was sick with uncertainty."
"Well, it's all over now," she smiled, and he sighed with a greatrelief.
"All over but the--the wedding," he said.
"Oh, that's a long way off. Let's not worry over that, Graydon."
"A long way off? Nonsense! I won't wait."
"Won't?"
"I should have said can't. Let's see; this is February. March,dearest?"
"Graydon, you are so much younger than I thought. A girl simplycannot be hurried through a--an engagement. Next winter."
"Next what? That's nearly a year, Jane. It's absurd! I'm ready."
"I know. It's mighty noble of you, too. But I just can't, dearest.No one ever docs."
"Don't--don't you think I'm prepared to take care of you?" he said,straightening up a bit.
She looked at his strong figure and into his earnest eyes andlaughed, so adorably, that his resentment was only passing.
"I can't give you a home like this," he explained; "but you knowI'll give you the best I have all my life."
"You can't help succeeding, Graydon," she said earnestly. "Everyonesays that of you. I'm not afraid. I'm not thinking of that. Itisn't the house I care for. It's the home. You must let me choosethe day."
"I suppose it's customary," he said at last. "June is the monthfor brides, let me remind you."
"Before you came this evening I had decided on January next, butnow I am willing to---"
"Oh, you decided before I came, eh?" laughingly.
"Certainly," she said unblushingly. "Just as you had decided on theearly spring. But, listen, dear, I am willing to say September ofthis year."
"One, two, three--seven months. They seem like years, Jane. Youwon't say June?"
"Please, please let me have some of the perquisites," she pleaded."It hasn't seemed at all like a proposal. I've really been cheatedof that, you must remember, dear. Let me say, at least, as theyall do, that I'll give you an answer in three days."
"Granted. I'll admit it wasn't the sort of proposal one reads aboutin novels---"
"But it was precisely as they are in real life, I'm sure. No onehas a stereotyped proposal any more. The men always take it forgranted and begin planning things before a girl can say no."
"Ah, I see it has happened to you," he said, jealous at once.
"Well, isn't that the way men do nowadays?" she demanded.
"A fellow has to feel reasonably sure, I dare say, before he takesa chance. No one wants to be refused, you know," he admitted. "Oh,by the way, I brought this--er--this ring up with me, Jane."
"You darling!" she cried, as the ring slipped down over her finger.And then, for the next hour, they planned and the future seemed athousand-fold brighter than the present, glorious as it was.
"You can't help succeeding," she repeated, "the same as your fatherhas. Isn't he wonderful? Oh, Graydon, I'm so proud of you!" shecried, enthusiastically.
"I can never be the man that the governor is," said Graydon,loyally. "I couldn't be as big as father if I lived to be a hundredand twenty-six. He's the best ever! He's done everything for me,Jane," the son went on, warmly. "Why, he even left dear, old NewYork and came to Chicago for my sake, dear. It's the place fora young man, he says; and he gave up a great practice so that wemight be here together. Of course, HE could succeed anywhere. Wasn'tit bully of him to come to Chicago just--just for me?"
"Yes. Oh, if you'll only be as good-looking as he is when you arefifty-five," she said, so plaintively that he laughed aloud. "You'llprobably be very fat and very bald by that time."
"And very healthy, if that can make it seem more horrible to you,"he added. For some time he sat pondering while she stared reflectivelyinto the fire opposite. Then squaring his shoulders as if preparingfor a trying task, he announced firmly: "I suppose I'd just as wellsee your father to-night, dearest. He likes me, I'm sure, and I--Idon't think he'll refuse to let me have you. Do you?"
"My dad's just as fair as yours, Gray," she said with a smile. "He'supstairs in his den. I'll go to mother. I know she'll be happy--oh,so happy."
Bansemer found David Cable in his room upstairs--his smoking andthinking room, as he called it.
"Come in, Graydon; don't stop to knock. How are you? Cigarette?Take a cigar, then. Bad night outside, isn't it?"
"Is it? I hadn't--er--noticed," said Graydon, dropping into a chairand nervously nipping the end from a cigar. "Have you been downtown?"
"Yes. Just got in a few minutes ago. The road expects to do a lotof work West this year, and I've been talking with the ways andmeans gentlemen--a polite and parliamentary way to put it."
"I suppose we'll all be congratulating you after the annual election,Mr. Cable."
"Oh, that's just talk, my boy. Winemann is the logical man forpresident. But where is Jane?"
"She's--ah--downstairs, I think," said the tall young man, puffingvigorously. "I came up--er--to see you about Jane, Mr. Cable. Ihave asked her to be my wife, sir."
For a full minute the keen eyes of the older man, sharpened bystrife and experience, looked straight into the earnest grey eyesof the young man who now stood across the room with his hand on themantlepiece. Cable's cigar was held poised in his fingers, halfwayto his lips. Graydon Bansemer felt that the man aged a year in thatbrief moment.
"You know, Graydon, I love Jane myself," said Cable at last, arisingslowly. His voice shook.
"I know, Mr. Cable. She is everything to you. And yet
I have cometo ask you to give her to me."
"It isn't that I have not suspected--aye, known--what the outcomewould be," said the other mechanically. "She will marry, I know.It is right that she should. It is right that she should marry you,my boy. You--you DO love her?" He asked the question almost fiercely.
"With all my soul, Mr. Cable. She loves me. I don't know how toconvince you that my whole life will be given to her happiness. Iam sure I can---"
"I know. It's all right, my boy. It--it costs a good deal to lether go, but I'd rather give her to you than to any man I've everknown. I believe in you."
"Thank you, Mr. Cable," said Graydon Bansemer. Two strong handsclasped each other and there was no mistaking the integrity of thegrasp.
"But this is a matter in which Jane's mother is far more deeplyconcerned than I," added the older man. "She likes you, my boy--Iknow that to be true, but we must both abide by her wishes. If shehas not retired..."
"Jane is with her, Mr. Cable. She knows by this time."
"She is coming." Mrs. Cable's light footsteps were heard crossingthe hall, and an instant later Bansemer was holding open the dendoor for her to enter. He had a fleeting glimpse of Jane as thattall young woman turned down the stairway.
Frances Cable's face was white and drawn, and her eyes were wet. Herhusband started forward as she extended her hand to him. He claspedthem in his own and looked down into her face with the deepesttenderness and wistfulness in his own. Her body swayed suddenlyand his expression changed to one of surprise and alarm.
"Don't--don't mind, dear," he said hoarsely. "It had to come. Sitdown, do. There! Good Lord, Frances, if you cry now I'll--I'll goall to smash!" He sat down abruptly on the arm of the big leatherchair into which she had sunk limply. Something seemed to chokehim and his fingers went nervously to his collar. Before them stoodthe straight, strong figure of the man who was to have Jane forever.
Neither of them--nor Jane--knew what Frances Cable had sufferedduring the last hour. She accidentally had heard the words whichpassed between the lovers in the den downstairs. She was preparedwhen Jane came to her with the news later on, but that preparationhad cost her more than any of them ever could know.
Lying back in a chair, after she had almost crept to her room, shestared white-faced and frightened at the ceiling until it becamepeopled with her wretched thoughts. All along she had seen whatwas coming. The end was inevitable. Love as it grew for them hadknown no regard for her misery. She could not have prevented itsgrowth; she could not now frustrate its culmination. And yet, asshe sat there and stared into the past and the future, she knew thatit was left for her to drink of the cup which they were filling--thecup of their joy and of her bitterness.
Fear of exposure at the hand of Graydon Bansemer's father had kepther purposely blind to the inevitable. Her woman's intuition longsince had convinced her that Graydon was not like his father. Sheknew him to be honourable, noble, fair and worthy. Long and oftenhad she wondered at James Bansemer's design in permitting his sonto go to the extreme point in relation with Jane. As she sat thereand suffered, it came to her that the man perhaps had a purpose afterall--an unfathomable, selfish design which none could forestall.She knew him for all that he was. In that knowledge she felt aslight, timid sense of power. He stood for honour, so far as hisson was concerned. In fair play, she could expose him if he soughtto expose her.
But all conjectures, all fears, paled into insignificance with theone great terror: what would James Bansemer do in the end? Whatwould he do at the last minute to prevent the marriage of his sonand this probable child of love? What was to be his tribute to thefinal scene in the drama?
She knew that he was tightening his obnoxious coils about her allthe time. Even now she could feel his hand upon her arm, could hearhis sibilant whisper, could see his intense eyes full of suggestionand threat. Now she found herself face to face with the crisisof all these years. Her only hope lay in the thought that neithercould afford the scandal of an open declaration. Bansemer wasmerciless and he was no fool.
Knowing Graydon to be the son of a scoundrel, she could, underordinary circumstances, have forbidden her daughter to marry him.In this instance she could not say him nay. The venom of JamesBansemer in that event would have no measure of pity. In her heart,she prayed that death might come to her aid in the destruction ofJames Bansemer.
It was not until she heard Graydon coming up the stairs that thesolution flashed into her brain. If Jane became the wife of thischerished son, James Bansemer's power was gone! His lips would besealed forever. She laughed aloud in the frenzy of hope. She laughedto think what a fool she would have been to forbid the marriage.The marriage? Her salvation! Jane found her almost hysterical,trembling like a leaf. She was obliged to confess that she hadheard part of their conversation below, in order to account for hermanner. When Jane confided to her that she had promised to marryGraydon in September--or June--she urged her to avoid a longengagement. She could say no more than that.
Now she sat limp before the two men, a wan smile straying fromone to the other, exhausted by her suppressed emotions. Suddenly,without a word, she held out her hand to Graydon. In her deepestsoul, she loved this manly, strong-hearted young fellow. She knew,after all, he was worthy of the best woman in the land.
"You know?" cried Graydon, clasping her hand, his eyes glistening."Jane has told you? And you--you think me worthy?"
"Yes, Graydon--you are worthy." She looked long into his eyes,searching for a trace of the malevolence that glowed in those ofhis father. They were fair and honest and sweet, and she smiled toherself. She wondered what his mother had been like.
"Then I may have her?" he cried. She looked up at her husband andhe nodded his head.
"Our little girl," he murmured. It all came back to her likea flash. Her deception, her imposition, her years of stealth--andshe shuddered. Her hand trembled and her eyes grew wide with repugnanceas they turned again upon Graydon Bansemer. Both men drew back inamazement.
"Oh, no--it cannot, cannot be!" she moaned, without taking her eyesfrom Graydon's face. In the same instant she recovered herself andcraved his pardon. "I am distressed--it is so hard to give her up.Graydon," she panted, smiling again. The thought had come suddenlyto her that James Bansemer had a very strong purpose in letting hisson marry Jane Cable. She never had ceased to believe that Bansemerknew the parents of the child she had adopted. It had dawned uponher in the flash of that moment that the marriage might mean agreat deal to this calculating father. "David, won't you leave usfor a few minutes? There is something I want to say to Graydon."
David Cable hesitated for an instant and then slowly left the room,closing the door behind him. He was strangely puzzled over thatmomentary exposition of emotion on the part of his wife. He was aman of the world; and he knew its vices from the dregs up, but itwas many days before the startling suspicion struck in to explainher uncalled-for display of feeling. It did not strike in untilafter he noticed that James Bansemer was paying marked attentionto his wife.
Left alone with Graydon, Mrs. Cable nervously hurried to the point.She was determined to satisfy herself that the son did not shareher secret with his father.
"Does your father know that you want to marry Jane?" she asked.
"Of course--er--I mean, he suspects, Mrs. Cable. He has teased menot a little, you know. I'm going to tell him to-night."
"He has not known Jane very long, you know."
"Long enough to admire her above all others. He has often told methat she is the finest girl he's ever met. Oh, I'm sure father willbe pleased, Mrs. Cable."
"I met your father in New York, of course--years ago. I presume hehas told you."
"I think not. Oh, yes, I believe he did tell me after we met youat Hooley's that night. He had never seen Mr. Cable."
"Nor Jane, I dare say."
"Oh, no. I knew Jane long before dad ever laid eyes on her." Thelook in his eyes satisfied her over all that he knew nothing more.
"You love her enough to sacri
fice anything on earth for her?" sheasked suddenly.
"Yes, Mrs. Cable," he answered simply.
"You would renounce all else in the world for her sake?"
"I believe that's part of the service," he said, with a smile. "Janeis worth all of that, and more. She shall be first in my heart,in my mind, for all time, if that is what you mean, Mrs. Cable.Believe me, I mean that."
"Mr. Bansemer says that you are like your mother," she mused,wistfully.
"That's why he loves me, he also says. I'm sorry I'm not likefather," he said earnestly. "He's great!" She turned her face awayso that he might not see the look in her eyes. "I think Jane islike---" he paused in confusion. "Like her father," he concluded.She arose abruptly and took his hand in hers.
"Go to her, Graydon," she said. "Tell her that Mr. Cable and I wantyou to be our son. Good-night and God bless you." She preceded himto the stairway and again shook hands with him. David Cable wasascending.
"Graydon," said the latter, pausing halfway up as the other camedown, "you were ready to congratulate me in advance on the prospectof becoming president of the P., L. & A. Do you know that I wasonce an ordinary fireman?"
"Certainly, Mr. Cable. The rise of David Cable is known to everyone."
"That's all. I just wanted to be sure. Jane was not born with asilver spoon, you know."
"And yet she is Jane Cable," said the young man proudly. Then hehurried on down to the expectant, throbbing Jane.
Frances Cable sat at her escritoire for an hour, her brain workingwith feverish energy. She was seeking out the right step to takein advance of James Bansemer. Her husband sat alone in his den andsmoked long after she had taken her step and retired to rest--butnot to sleep. On her desk lay half a dozen invitations, two ofthem from the exclusive set to whose inner circles her ambitious,vigorous aspirations were forcing her. She pushed them aside andwith narrowed eyes wrote to James Bansemer--wrote the note of thediplomat who seeks to forestall:
"DEAR ME. BANSEMER: Doubtless Graydon will have told you his goodnews before this reaches you, but Mr. Cable and I feel that we cannotpermit the hour to pass without assuring you of our own happinessand of our complete approval. Will you dine with us this evening--enfamille--at seven-thirty?
"FRANCES CABLE."
David Cable read the note and sent it early the next morning byspecial messenger to James Bansemer. The engagement of Jane Cableand Graydon Bansemer was announced in the evening papers.
CHAPTER X
THE FOUR INITIALS