“Now,” said Hiram, “get out, and go practice your fascinations on some other man’s wife!”
Then he went and faced his wife.
“Well,” he said grimly, “so that’s the game you’re playing! Well, you needn’t play it any longer in my house! Do you want to go with him, or shall I send for a taxi in half an hour for you? I’ll give you as much time as your maids had to pack. Take whatever you can in that limited time, for when you go I’m done with you!”
“Oh, Hi dear,” she began piteously. “Don’t talk that way to me. It wasn’t my fault. It really wasn’t!”
“Shut up!” said Hiram roughly. “It was all your fault from start to finish. You were putting the works on that man just as you did on me. That doesn’t excuse him, but it certainly doesn’t let you out! Get up! Go upstairs and get ready to go. Put something decent on in place of that flimflam, and get what you need tonight, for that’s about all you’ll get. Now scram! Oh, I blamed my son for not wanting a stepmother, but if I had known what I was getting when I got you, he certainly should have had the right to blame me! That’s all! I’m done with you!”
“But, Hi! You can’t send me away this way—!”
“Can’t I? Just watch me! Perhaps you’d like an escort of police. I’ll get them if you delay much longer.”
Natalie turned a frightened look to him and fairly flew up the stairs on her trembling limbs. She flung on garments without regard to suitability. She dragged her two big suitcases out and stuffed her best beloved and most expensive garments in with trembling hands. She flung a handful of jewels in one corner, a couple of hats atop, some shoes beside them, and came hurrying downstairs with her latest purchase, a handsome fur coat turned inside out over her arm, not to attract attention to its gorgeous quality. But Hiram reached out and took it from her. “You’ll not need that,” he said dryly. “This is springtime. Had you forgotten? This can go back to the store where you purchased it. Now, the taxi is out there. I’ll take your baggage. But first give me your house key. I want no stealing back and coming in on me. I’m done, I tell you, entirely done!”
She opened her purse, shaking with sobs, and handed him the key.
“Now, go!” he thundered.
“Why—where do you want me to go?”
“That’s entirely up to you. Go just where you please. I shall never try to tell you what to do again!” And he picked up the baggage and carried it down the steps, she following sorrowfully behind.
He put the baggage into the front seat, handed the driver some money, and turned back, running up the steps and slamming the door.
An hour later another car drew up at the door and Irving and Mandy got out. No one answered their ring, so they opened the door and walked in. They found the master lying crumpled in a heap as he had fallen, his face all twisted into an ugly grimace, his hands clinched and rigid, his limbs stiff and unable to move. He opened wild eyes and looked at them, and Irving thought he recognized him.
They picked him up most tenderly and bore him to his bed. They sent for the doctor, and the two faithful souls ministered to him as best they could, Mandy, still with her funny spring hat mounted atop her gray bobbed head and cocked over her right eye, a wide white rubber band like a bandage holding it in place above a billow of stiff, straight, gray hair. Somehow, in spite of all the years of his unfairness and almost cruel faultfinding, there seemed to be tears in Mandy’s eyes. As she looked down piteously into the poor, twisted face, and at the powerless paralyzed body, Mandy couldn’t help feeling sorry for him. The thin, drawn lips, the sharp tongue that could no longer utter a word, they were all quiet now, and at the mercy of herself and Irving.
There he lay, utterly paralyzed from head to foot, whether from shock that his lady love had turned out to be a traitor, or because he had found someone he could not bend to his own will, who shall say?
Chapter 20
When Irving and Mandy had been dismissed by the new lady of the house during the absence of her husband, they had questioned whether they ought to go before his return. They had not been at all happy staying here since the advent of the new mistress, but it didn’t seem quite ethical to Irving just to disappear before the man who had been his mind and conscience as it were for the last two decades returned to set his seal upon his wife’s orders. But Mandy had stubbornly said “I’m goin’. Irvin’ Potter, ef you wants to stay and serve a man whose woman doesn’t want you here, you ken stay alone. I’m goin’ ta git out while the goin’s good. Ef you don’t know when you got the gate, I do!”
Irving lost no time in getting everything he owned packed and ready to go. In fact, they had begun to pack before they were dismissed, for they wanted to be ready to leave at a moment’s notice. So it had not taken them long.
On the train, en route to the city, they discussed where they would go.
“I think we’d better go where the Boss can find us if he ever wants us again,” said Irving. “I feel mighty sure he’ll be shouting for us before long.”
“I wouldn’t wonder,” agreed Mandy. “What if we see if your brother Henry knows of any place near him? The Boss knows Henry.”
And so it turned out they went to Henry’s, left most of their goods in boxes in Henry’s attic, and settled down to wait.
Irving got himself a job as head waiter in a restaurant. It wasn’t a very notable restaurant, but it paid fairly well, and it was not far away from their rooms, which were in the other half of brother Henry’s house, so that a messenger could easily round the two up and get them ready to go at a moment’s notice in case the “home folks” ever sent for them.
Mandy got up a little business of her own, going out to cook dinners for people who couldn’t afford to get the expensive caterers. So both these good people were busy, keeping their minds from dwelling too sadly on the people who had almost become their children, so long they had been waiting on their needs.
And yet, when there was a little letup in the long day’s work, or in the morning when Mandy had time to put her own rooms in order and do any mending she had, she was continually thinking of young Revel and wondering how he was and what he was doing.
She had written him a letter, poor of penmanship and worse of spelling, when he first reached his grandfather’s house, and he had written her back telling her his grandfather was better but that he was staying out there and going to college. So on the strength of that news she lived and wove her romances about him. But often she wished she might be somewhere near him so that she could make a tasty pie or cake now and then to hearten him.
And often in the early mornings before Irving had to go to his restaurant the two would sit together by a forlorn little backstreet window and talk about the changes that had come into their lives since the little “Mrs. Emily” went to heaven. They talked about the “new missus” as they called her, too, and they could not say enough against her, for even during those few days before she took her courage in her hands and dismissed them, she had shown a great many qualities that they could not admire, and many more that they could but despise. So the days went on, but there came no summons to the old house where they had worked so long.
Once Mandy said, “Irving, you reckon you could drive any automobile?”
Irving gave her a withering look.
“Why, of course, Mandy, what do you think I am? A moron to forget a thing like that so soon?”
“Well,” sighed Mandy, “why couldn’t you borrow Henry’s car? He don’t use it every day, and you get a day off sometimes. Why couldn’t we take a vacation and go up to that Grandfather Revel’s and find that boy? I’d like to see if he don’t look kinda peeked, or mebbe his socks aren’t darned right and hurt his feet. Or mebbe they don’t give him the right things ta eat.”
“Oh, now, Mandy, quit your fretting. You know you aren’t the only one who can darn a sock without a lump in the heel or toe, and you aren’t the only one who can cook. Just you stop your fretting. When it comes time for us to do something for Mister
Revel, we’ll know it. Besides, Mandy, you know we can’t take vacations and expect our jobs to just sit around waiting for us to get back. We are mighty lucky to get jobs while we’re waiting, so I guess we’d better stick by them till something better turns up.”
“Yes, I s’pose so,” sighed Mandy, “but sometimes I get wearyin’ about that boy. You know I promised his little mother—Mrs. Em’ly—I’d look after him, an’ I can’t seem ta think she’ll think I’m doin’ it.”
“Now look here, Mandy, you haven’t anything at all to do with it. You’ve got to wait till the time comes. It’ll come. It surely will.”
And so when at last the summons did come, it didn’t take long for those two faithful souls to resign their work, pack a few hurried necessities, and get into the old car to be taken “home.”
The doctor came hastily at Irving’s summons and shook his head. When he came out from the sickroom he asked where Revel was. So Mandy got herself together and wrote her second letter to Revel.
Dear Mister Revel,
This is to tell you we are back in the old house taken care of yur daddy agen. We found him alone on the hall floor, parlized. The doctor says he don’t know how long he will last, and we should let you know. You better come at once!
So no more at present.
Your devoted servant,
Mandy
Mandy went out in the dark and mailed her letter in the nearest postbox, and when she got back she found that Irving had sent a telegram to the young master, neither of which he received for two days because he had gone with his debating team to an intercollegiate debate.
But in the meantime Grand had been getting some sidelines of gossip from various sources and had learned that there had been trouble between Hiram and his second wife, and she had left him, or he had turned her out, according to the various gossipmongers who brought the word to town. They had got it in the village paper, just because they thought it would be interesting news, since Revel was very popular in the town and college. And so hard things were coming Revel’s way again, testing to try him out. “For the perfection of the saints,” quoted Grandfather Revel to himself as he thought of what he had to tell Revel. Then he got out his very best smile that hinted glory somewhere behind its lines, for the moment that his dear boy should arrive.
So Revel came in on the light of that smile and saw at once there was something graver behind it. And there was the letter and the telegram awaiting him on the table beside the old man, and neither of them were from Margaret. With premonition in his eyes he tore open the telegram. It was brief and to the point.
Your father has had a bad stroke. Come at once. Irving.
“Grand, what shall I do?” He handed over the telegram. The old man read it, and then with that grave smile of self-abnegation he handed it back.
“You’ll have to go, of course, son. He’s your father.”
“But, Grand, that woman will be there.”
“Well, son, duty is duty.”
“But she didn’t send for me. Perhaps she doesn’t want me now.”
“What has that to do with it? He is your father. He may be dying.”
“Yes, I know,” said the boy, with white lips. “Of course I’ll go. But would he want me?”
“He is still your father.”
“Yes.”
Then Revel saw the letter and picked it up, studying it. The address was peculiar, to say the least. Then he saw the postmark and tore the envelope quickly.
“Oh!” he said and handed the letter over, saying, “Yes, of course I must go, Grand. I’ll hurry. There’s a train down to New York in half an hour. I’ll try to get that. Will you be all right while I’m gone? I don’t suppose I’ll be wanted long.”
“You can’t tell, Revel. You’ll stay as long as you are needed, and don’t think of me. There are people enough here to look out for me. You’ll maybe have some message for your father’s soul before he is called away. There may be a chance he would understand. I’ll be praying, you know, boy.”
Revel looked startled.
“I can’t think that any message would ever reach him,” said the boy.
“Don’t limit your Lord,” said the grandfather.
“I won’t, Grand. And thank you for the prayers. I’ll be watching for the chance.”
So Revel went away from the things he counted dear into an atmosphere of horror and sorrow and mystery. But he knew that he went God-led.
Margaret’s letter reached Linwood the afternoon that Revel left for Arleth, and was forwarded the next morning by his grandfather. It brought great relief and joy to Revel, who was having a sorrowful time in the great house that had once been his home and now no longer seemed to have anything to do with him.
He had been met at the station by Irving, who had met every train since he sent his telegram, and Mandy came to the door with smiling solemnity. Both the old servants felt that they were entertaining death in the house, and went about their duties with great awe upon them.
The doctor had sent a nurse, and they were now serving her as if she had been an angel, while they waited for Revel, whom they looked upon as the real master of the house. They escorted Revel up to his father’s room and waited outside the door with tears running down their old faces, tears for the master and tears for his son.
A strange thing it was that nobody had thought at all about the second wife, nor knew where she was, to send word if they had. It was not until the doctor brought word of Mr. Radcliffe’s condition that the news began to drift about the town, and Natalie’s friends began to wonder and to ask questions of one another with bated breath.
Natalie and Herbert had gone to the dinner at Neeta’s and had gone the rounds afterward, though Herbert looked badly shaken up and had a cut on his forehead and a sprained wrist. He had told them he had had a bad fall, and let it go at that. They had gone away together, he and Natalie, saying that they could not join the company the next night as they both had engagements. Natalie had driven away in Herbert’s car, but no one had seen either of them since. And no one in the Radcliffe house had thought to miss Natalie.
Revel had walked quietly into his father’s room and stood by the bed looking sadly down at him. Suddenly he saw his father’s eyes open, and he was looking straight at him, a look of recognition.
The nurse had tiptoed out of the room, leaving the two alone for the moment, and the startled son was standing there as if he were seeing his father, the real father, for the first time. Then without realizing that his father could not talk, could not even hear, perhaps, he spoke.
“Father, I’m sorry!” And he brushed his fingers over his eyes to flick away the tears that came.
A quick contortion of muscles came upon the twisted face, a look of utmost agony, and the eyes closed quickly. For an instant Revel wondered if perhaps this might be death, and he was glad he had spoken tenderly. He was wholly without preparation to meet this emergency of his life. But had that little word of his brought death? Maybe he should not have spoken, though the nurse had given him no warning not to.
Then as he watched, he saw a slow tear make its way out from under the closed eyelid and trickle down the hard cheek, and suddenly something happened to himself. The alienation of the years seemed bridged, and he felt a deep sympathy for the father who lay there, locked and still as if he were dead. Tears! It had never occurred to him as a child that his father could have tears. And a silent tongue! When he had always had plenty of scathing words to visit upon everybody. And now he was here, silent, and quiet, locked in a living death.
“Father, I’m sorry!” he murmured again, more softly now, and slid down upon his knees beside the bed, his hand on his father’s motionless one. Then he stooped his tall head and kissed his father’s forehead. He couldn’t remember to have done that since he was almost a baby and had been rudely thrust aside.
But now the anger and the hatred were gone out of his heart. All the resentment! He hadn’t ever thought that that could be. He had suff
ered so much through the years, all alone! But it was as if it had never been. He felt a great sympathy, a sorrow for his father. A strange belated love, where love had never been welcome before.
After that he sat for a long time beside the bed and held his father’s hand, praying in his heart. And he found a great longing that he might be able to do something for him. If he could only bring a message that would reach his heart. If he could only make him know the love of Christ, and what it had been to his lonely boy! But how to bring that about? That was the problem. God would have to do it, not he.
It was the next day that Margaret’s letter reached him and brought that great relief and joy to his heart. It shone in his face, so that when the eyes from the bed opened and looked at him again, they saw it, and the father continued to look with a kind of wonder growing in his gaze. He did not remember his son to have had that light in his face. What was it?
Then the eyes looked toward the book Revel was holding. His Bible! The eyes lingered with a growing wonder and looked from the book to the boy’s face and down to the book again. They didn’t seem actually to move, and yet Revel was sure they focused on himself then on the book, and he gave his dazzling smile, as if it were somehow light that could reach down into his father’s soul and touch it. A point of contact.
There was no answering smile, no change of expression, just that wondering look.
“Would you like me to read some to you, Father?” he asked suddenly as if an angel had suddenly suggested the idea to him.
And so, taking up the Bible where he had been reading, with his finger in the pages, he began to read in a low, steady, clear voice, not realizing what the selection was to be as he began, only that it was the place where he had left off reading yesterday.
“For the preaching of the cross is to them that perish foolishness; but unto us which are saved it is the power of God.