CHAPTER XXIII
PLAIN LANGUAGE
Once at home, where Beth and the Colonel were still absent, Judith wentto the book-case in the little parlour and drew out the volume ofRossetti's poems. "Jenny," she found in the index, and turning to thepage, she read:
"Lazy laughing languid Jenny, Fond of a kiss and fond of a guinea----"
No, not that kind of a Jenny was that whom she had seen. Rather this:
"When, wealth and health slipped past, you stare Along the streets alone, and there, Round the long park, across the bridge, The cold lamps at the pavement's edge Wind on together and apart, A fiery serpent for your heart."
And then the moral, the world-moral, this:
"Like a toad within a stone Seated while Time crumbles on; Which sits there since the world was curs'd By man's transgression at the first; Which always--whitherso the stone Be flung--sits there, deaf, blind, alone;-- Aye, and shall not be driven out Till that which shuts him round about Break at the very Master's stroke, And the dust thereof vanish as smoke, And the seed of Man vanish as dust:-- Even so within this world is Lust."
Judith sat with the book open in her lap, meditating. She knew enough ofthat lower life to have for it a man's pity rather than a woman's scorn;recalling Mather's action, she liked him better for it. And she began tothink of him regretfully, as one who just missed the highest capacitiesand so failed to meet the supreme tests. "A fine fellow!" she murmured,so absorbed that she did not hear the door-bell ring, nor noticefootsteps until Mather himself entered the room with hurried step. Hewore his overcoat; on his brow was still the frown of care.
"Ah," he said, "I am glad to find you. Is Jim Wayne here, Judith?"
She rose and laid the book aside, carefully, so that he should not seewhat she had been reading. "No," she answered. "It is his night to come.But I saw him down town, George, and he looked worried. Is anythingwrong?"
"It has been a bad day in stocks," he answered. "I must find Jim. Excusemy troubling you, Judith." And he moved toward the door.
"Wait, George." She took from the table the note which earlier she hadwritten him. "I have an invitation for you."
He took it, opened it, and began to read. "Ah!" he said at first, as ifwith pleasure. But as she watched she saw a quick and startling changein his countenance; his forehead contracted with pain, and he closed hislips firmly. But he read on to the end, and then looked at her quietly.
"I cannot come," he said.
With a conscious summoning of her courage she asked, "You have anengagement?"
"No," he replied. "But I cannot march in Ellis's triumph."
"You are entirely mistaken," she said haughtily.
"If not yet, then soon," he returned. She made no answer, yet sheflushed with indignation; he bowed and turned to the door. Then he cameback. "Judith, will you allow me to speak with you frankly? A few wordsmay make a difference to us forever."
It was not the words which impressed her, it was the emotion which drovethem from his breast, which burned in his eyes. She was so astonishedthat she made no answer; he said, to emphasise his request, "It may beseldom that we speak again."
"Seldom speak again?" she repeated.
He took her words for a consent. "Judith," he asked, "what is this manEllis to you? Do you realise that he is using you?"
Her indignation rose. "Using me!"
"To get among us," he explained. "He has no gratitude, no remorse. Oncehe has used a man he throws him aside like an old glove; he has nevershown personal feeling for any one. Why do you have to do with him?"
"You envy his ability," she said.
"Not I," he answered. "I admire his firmness, his persistence, hiscapacity. But I cannot admire him. Judith, he is a bane, a poison in oursystem, a disease!"
"You mistake him," she cried.
"Not I. I know him, and am going to fight him."
"Fight him, then!" she returned.
He spoke more quietly. "We have been careless with him; he has broughtcorruption into the city. But small cities are not so conscienceless asbig ones; the better elements are rising against him. This day I wasformally asked to lead them, and I shall probably be against his man inthe mayoralty contest next fall. It is a battle of principles: that iswhy I can never take salt with him."
She was quite unmoved, using her previous defense. "It will be astruggle of the new against the old."
"Ah, Judith," he replied almost sadly, "is he blinding you thus? And doyou see my meaning clearly? All the better elements will oppose him.Whoever is with him will be against us."
"Who are you," she cried, "to pronounce on good and evil? Take careagainst self-righteousness, George."
"I will take care," he answered. "But there is another side to this,Judith. Put this larger issue by and turn to the smaller, the personalone between you and me. Judith, I have loved you. I thought you werewomanly at bottom. But have you no heart, after all?" His intensity wasgrowing.
"That still troubles you?" she inquired.
"Are you absolutely cold?" he asked. "Are your old friends nothing toyou? What if they turn from you?"
"So," she said, "you threaten me with that?"
"It is inevitable," he said with energy. "Even as my love--no boy'slove, Judith--wavers and grows sick, so will their friendship. Have weall mistaken you? Will you give such approval to such a man?"
Anger at last grew strong within her. "George!" she said in warning.
But he, casting before her his burning reproaches, would not berepressed. "I say the only thing which can bring you to yourself. Do mywords sting? They tear me as I utter them!" His face was changing as hespoke, paling as if the effort weakened him, yet still he dragged outthe words. "Judith, I could see you married to an honourable man, andstill love and bless you. I will idealise you until you besmirchyourself--but you are no child, to do that unknowingly. On the day yougive yourself to Ellis----"
"Stop!" she interrupted.
"No!" he cried. "It is in your mind; you cannot deny it. On the day,Judith, that you give yourself to him, you sell yourself!"
He stood voiceless and panting, gazing at her with accusing eyes. Andfor an instant she reeled, a voice within her cried "Jenny!" and she sawthat woman of the streets. Then fierce indignation flooded her veins;she started to the table, seized the Japanese knife, and held it nakedin her hand. With ease she balanced and pointed the heavy weapon.
"Do you suppose," he asked, "that you can hurt me deeper?"
For a moment they stood confronting, his courage as strong as her anger.Then she threw the dagger clattering upon the table, and pointed to thedoor. "Go!"
He gave her one searching look, bowed, and went quickly from the house.
The Colonel, entering some fifteen minutes later, found Judith in thearm-chair where she had flung herself after pacing the room. "Judith,"he said, "I met Mr. Ellis just now, and he said he was coming up todinner."
"Very well," she answered inattentively.
He saw that her brow was clouded, and his desire to speak with herseriously began to melt. When he was alone it seemed to him simpleenough to say a few fatherly words in favour of Ellis; the Colonelwished very much to have his mind relieved about the future. But now wasnot the time, not while that frown was on her face. So he wentup-stairs.
Then his statement found its way into Judith's mind, and she sprang toher feet. Ellis was coming--then _it_ was coming! She hurried up-stairsand dressed herself with care; when she was ready she was a picture. Butit was not her gown and scanty jewels that made her radiant, but theglow within her, which was the smouldering indignation she still feltagainst Mather. Thus to threaten, thus to dare her, thus to set himselfup as judge! She waited impatiently for Ellis to come.