XVIII
THE BABBLER
The double apartment in Dragon Court, swept by such vagrant Julybreezes as wandered into the heated city, had become lively withpreparations for departure.
Barres fussed about, collecting sketching paraphernalia, choosingbrushes, colours, canvases, field kits, and costumes from hisaccumulated store, and boxing them for transportation to ForelandFarms, with the languid assistance of Aristocrates.
Westmore had only to ship a modelling stand, a handful of sculptors'tools, and a ton or two of Plasteline, an evil-smelling compositeclay, very useful to work with.
But the storm centre of preparation revolved around Dulcie. AndThessalie, enchanted with her new role as adviser, bargainer, andpurchaser, and always attaching either Westmore or Barres to herskirts when she and Dulcie sallied forth, was selecting andaccumulating a charming and useful little impedimenta. For the younggirl had never before owned a single pretty thing, except those firstunpremeditated gifts of Barres', and her happiness in theseexpeditions was alloyed with trepidation at Thessalie's extravagance,and deep misgivings concerning her ultimate ability to repay out ofthe salary allowed her as a private model.
Intoxicated by ownership, she watched Thessalie and Selinda layingaway in her brand-new trunk the lovely things which had beenselected. And one day, thrilled but bewildered, she went into thestudio, where Barres sat opening his mail, and confessed her fear thatonly lifelong devotion in his service could ever liquidate heroverwhelming financial obligations to him.
He had begun to laugh when she opened the subject:
"Thessa is managing it," he said. "It looks like a lot of expense, butit isn't. Don't worry about it, Sweetness."
"I _do_ worry----"
"Now, what a ridiculous thing to do!" he interrupted. "It's merelyadvanced salary--your own money. I told you to blow it; I'mresponsible. And I shall arrange it so you won't notice that you arerepaying the loan. All I want you to do is to have a good time aboutit."
"I am having a good time--when it doesn't scare me to spend so muchfor----"
"Can't you trust Thessa and me?"
The girl dropped to her knees beside his chair in a swift passion ofgratitude:
"Oh, I trust you--I do----" But she could not utter another word, andonly pressed her face against his arm in the tense silence of emotionswhich were too powerful to express, too deep and keen to comprehend orto endure.
And she sprang to her feet, flushed, confused, turning from him as heretained one hand and drew her back:
"Dear child," he said, in his pleasant voice, "this is really avery little thing I do for you, compared to the help you havegiven me by hard, unremitting, uncomplaining physical labour andendurance. There is no harder work than holding a pose for painteror sculptor--nothing more cruelly fatiguing. Add to that yourcheerfulness, your willingness, your quiet, loyal, unobtrusivecompanionship--and the freshness and inspiration and interest evernew which you always awake in me--tell me, Sweetness, are you reallyin my debt, or am I in yours?"
"I am in yours. You made me."
"You always say that. It's foolish. You made yourself, Dulcie. You aremaking yourself all the while. Why, good heavens!--if you hadn't hadit in you, somehow, to ignore your surroundings--take the schoolopportunities offered you--close your eyes and ears to the sights andsounds and habits of what was supposed to be your home----"
He checked himself, thinking of Soane, and his brogue, and hisignorance and his habits.
"How the devil you escaped it all I can't understand," he muttered tohimself. "Even when I first knew you, there was nothing resemblingyour--your father about you--even if you were almost in rags!"
"I had been with the Sisters until I went to high school," shemurmured. "It makes a difference in a child's mind what is said andthought by those around her."
"Of course. But, Dulcie, it is usually the unfortunate rule that thelower subtly contaminates the higher, even in casual association--thatthe weaker gradually undermines the stronger until it sinks to lesserlevels. It has not been so with you. Your clear mind remaineduntarnished, your aspiration uncontaminated. Somewhere within you hadbeen born the quality of recognition; and when your eyes opened onbetter things you recognised them and did not forget after theydisappeared----"
Again he ceased speaking, aware, suddenly, that for the first time hewas making the effort to analyse this girl for his own information.Heretofore, he had accepted her, sometimes curious, sometimes amused,puzzled, doubtful, even uneasy as her mind revealed itself by degreesand her character glimmered through in little fitful gleams from thatstill hidden thing, herself.
He began to speak again, before he knew he was speaking--indeed, asthough within him somewhere another man were using his lips and voiceas vehicles:
"You know, Dulcie, it's not going to end--our companionship. Your reallife is all ahead of you; it's already beginning--the life which isproperly yours to shape and direct and make the most of.
"I don't know what kind of life yours is going to be; I know, merely,that your career doesn't lie down stairs in the superintendent'slodgings. And this life of ours here in the studio is only temporary,only a phase of your development toward clearer aims, higheraspiration, nobler effort.
"Tranquillity, self-respect, intelligent responsibility, thehappiness of personal independence are the prizes: the path on whichyou have started leads to the only pleasure man has ever reallyknown--labour."
He looked down at her hand lying within his own, stroked the slenderfingers thoughtfully, noticing the whiteness and fineness of them, nowthat they had rested for three months from their patient martyrdom inSoane's service.
"I'll talk to my mother and sister about it," he concluded. "All youneed is a start in whatever you're going to do in life. And you betyou're going to get it, Sweetness!"
He patted her hand, laughed, and released it. She couldn't speak justthen--she tried to as she stood there, head averted and grey eyesbrilliant with tears--but she could not utter a sound.
Perhaps aware that her overcharged heart was meddling with her voice,he merely smiled as he watched her moving slowly back to Thessalie'sroom, where the magic trunk was being packed. Then he turned to hisletters again. One was from his mother:
"Garry darling, anybody you bring to Foreland is always welcome, as you know. Your family never inquires of its members concerning any guests they may see fit to invite. Bring Miss Dunois and Dulcie Soane, your little model, if you like. There's a world of room here; nobody ever interferes with anybody else. You and your guests have two thousand acres to roam about in, ride over, fish over, paint over. There's plenty for everybody to do, alone or in company.
"Your father is well. He looks little older than you. He's fishing most of the time, or busy reforesting that sandy region beyond the Foreland hills.
"Your sister and I ride as usual and continue to improve the breeds of the various domestic creatures in which we are interested and you are not.
"The pheasants are doing well this year, and we're beginning to turn them out with their foster-mothers.
"Your father wishes me to tell you and Jim Westmore that the trout fishing is still fairly good, although it was better, of course, in May and June.
"The usual parties and social amenities continue in Northbrook. Everybody included in that colony seems to have arrived, also the usual influx of guests, and there is much entertaining, tennis, golf, dances--the invariable card always offered there.
"Claire and I go enough to keep from being too completely forgotten. Your father seldom bothers himself.
"Also, the war in Europe has made us, at Foreland, disinclined to frivolity. Others, too, of the older society in Northbrook are more subdued than usual, devote themselves to quieter pursuits. And those among us who have sons of military age are prone to take life soberly in these strange, oppressive days when even under sunny skies in this land aloof from war, all are conscious of the tension, the vague foreboding, the
brooding stillness that sometimes heralds storms.
"But all north-country folk do not feel this way. The Gerhardts, for example, are very gay with a house full of guests and overflowing week-ends. The German Embassy, as always, is well represented at Hohenlinden. Your father won't go there at all now. As for Claire and myself, we await political ruptures before we indulge in social ones. And it doesn't look like war, now that Von Tirpitz has been sent to Coventry.
"This, Garry darling, is my budget of news. Bring your guests whenever you please. You wouldn't bring anybody you oughtn't to; your family is liberal, informal, pleasantly indifferent, and always delightfully busy with its individual manias and fads; so come as soon as you please--sooner, please--because, strange as it may seem, your mother would like to see you."
The letter was what he had expected. But, as always, it made him verygrateful.
"Wonderful mother I have," he murmured, opening another letter fromhis father:
"DEAR GARRET:
"Why the devil don't you come up? You've missed the cream of the fishing. There's nothing doing in the streams now, but at sunrise and toward evening they're breaking nicely in the lake.
"I've put in sixty thousand three-year transplants this year on that sandy stretch. They are white, Scotch and Austrian. Your children will enjoy them.
"The dogs are doing well. There's one youngster, the litter-tyrant of Goldenrod's brood, who ought to make a field winner. But there's no telling. You and I'll have 'em out on native woodcock.
"There are some grouse, but we ought to let them alone for the next few years. As for the pheasants, they're everywhere now, in the brake, silver-grass, and weeds, peeping, scurrying, creeping--cunning little beggars and growing wild as quail.
"The horses are all right. The crops promise well. Labour is devilish scarce, and unsatisfactory when induced to accept preposterous wages. What we need are coolies, if these lazy, native slackers continue to handicap the farmers who have to employ them. The American 'hired man'! He makes me sick. With few exceptions, he is incredibly stupid, ignorant, unwilling, lazy.
"He's sometimes a crook, too; he takes pay for what he doesn't do; he steals your time; he cares absolutely nothing about your interests or convenience; he will leave you stranded in harvest time, without any notice at all; decent treatment he does not appreciate; he'll go without a warning even, leaving your horses unfed, your cattle unwatered, your crops rotting!
"He's a degenerate relic of those real men who broke up the primaeval wilderness. He is the reason for high prices, the cause of agricultural and industrial distress, the inert, sodden, fermenting, indigestible mass in the belly of the body-politic!
"The American hired man! If the country doesn't spew him up, he'll kill it!
"Perhaps you've heard me before on this subject, Garret. I'm likely to air my views, you know.
"Well, my son, I look forward to your arrival. I am glad that Westmore is coming with you. As for your other guests, they are welcome, of course.
"Your father,
"REGINALD BARRES."
He laughed; this letter so perfectly revealed his father.
"Dad and his trout and his birds and his pines and his eternallyaccursed hired help," he said to himself, "Dad and his monocle and hisimmaculate attire--the finest man who ever fussed!" And he laughedtenderly to himself as he broke the seal of his sister's brief note:
"Garry dear, I've been so busy schooling horses and dancing that I've had no time for letter writing. So glad you're coming at last. Bring along any good novels you see. My best to Jim. Your guests can be well mounted, if they ride. Father is wild because there are more foxes than usual, but he's promised not to treat them as vermin, and the Northbrook pack is to hunt our territory this season, after all. Poor Dad! He is a brick, isn't he?"
"Affectionately,
"LEE."
Barres pocketed his sheaf of letters and began to stroll about thestudio, whistling the air of some recent musical atrocity.
Westmore, in his own room, composing verses--a secret vice unsuspectedby Barres--bade him "Shut up!"--the whistling no doubt ruining hismetre.
But Barres, with politest intentions, forgot himself so many timesthat the other man locked up his "Lines to Thessalie when she wassewing on a button for me," and came into the studio.
"Where is she?" he inquired naively.
"Where's who?" demanded Barres, still sensitive over the increasingintimacy of this headlong young man and Thessalie Dunois.
"Thessa."
"In there fussing with Dulcie's togs. Go ahead in, if you care to."
"Is your stuff packed up?"
Barres nodded:
"Is yours?"
"Most of it. How many trunks is Thessa taking?"
"How do I know?" said Barres, with a trace of irritation. "She's atliberty to take as many as she likes."
Westmore didn't notice the irritation; his mind was entirely occupiedby Thessalie--an intellectual condition which had recently becomerather painfully apparent to Barres, and, doubtless, equally if notpainfully apparent to Thessalie herself.
Probably Dulcie noticed it, too, but gave no sign, except when theserious grey eyes stole toward Barres at times, as though vaguelyapprehensive that he might not be entirely in sympathy with Westmore'senchanted state of mind.
As for Thessalie, though Westmore's naive and increasing devotioncould scarcely escape her notice, it was utterly impossible to tellhow it affected her--whether, indeed, it made any impression at all.
For there seemed to be no difference in her attitude toward these twomen; it was plain enough that she liked them both--that she believedin them implicitly, was happy with them, tranquil now in her newsecurity, and deeply penetrated with gratitude for their kindness toher in her hour of need.
* * * * *
"Come on in," coaxed Westmore, linking his arm in Barres', andcounting on the latter to give him countenance.
The arm of Barres remained rigid and unresponsive, but his legs werereluctantly obliging and carried him along with Westmore to what hadbeen his own room before Thessalie had installed herself there.
And there she was on her knees, amid a riot of lingerie and feminineeffects, while Dulcie lovingly smoothed out and folded object afterobject which Selinda placed between layers of pale blue tissue paperin the trunks.
"How are things going, Thessa?" inquired Westmore, in the hearty,cheerful voice of the intruder who hopes to be made welcome. But herattitude was discouraging.
"You know you are only in the way," she said. "Drive him out,Dulcie!"
Dulcie laughed and looked at them both with shyly friendly eyes:
"Is my trousseau not beautiful?" she asked. "If you'll step outsideI'll put on a hat and gown for you----"
"Oh, Dulcie!" protested Thessalie, "I want you to dawn upon them, anda dress rehearsal would spoil it all!"
Westmore tiptoed around amid lovely, frail mounds of fabrics, untilordered to an empty chair and forbidden further motion. It was all thesame to him, so long as his fascinated gaze could rest on Thessalie.
Which further annoyed Barres, and he backed out and walked to thestudio, considerably disturbed in his mind.
"That man," he thought, "is making an ass of himself, hanging aroundThessa like a half-witted child. She can't help noticing it, but shedoesn't seem to do anything about it. I don't know why she doesn'tsquelch him--unless she likes it----" But the idea was so unpleasantto Barres that he instantly abandoned that train of thought andprepared for himself a comfortable nest on the lounge, a pipe, and anuncut volume of flimsy summer fiction.
In the middle of these somewhat sullen preparations, there came a ringat his studio door. Only the superintendent or strangers rang thatbell as a rule, and Barres went to his desk, slipped his loaded pistolinto his coat pocket, then walked to the door and opened it.
Soane stood there, his face a shiny-red from d
rink, his legs steadyenough. As usual when drunk, he was inclined to be garrulous.
"What's the matter?" inquired Barres in a low voice.
"Wisha, Misther Barres, sorr, av ye're not too busy f'r to----"
"S-h-h! Don't bellow at the top of your voice. Wait a moment!"
He picked up his hat and came out into the corridor, closing thestudio door behind him so that Dulcie, if she appeared on the scene,should not be humiliated before the others.
Soane began again, but the other cut him short:
"Don't start talking here," he said. "Come down to your own quartersif you're going to yell your head off!" And he led the way,impatiently, down the stairs, past the desk where Miss Kurtz satstolid and mottled-faced as a lump of uncooked sausage, and intoSoane's quarters.
"Now, you listen to me first!" he said when Soane had entered and hehad closed the door behind them. "You keep out of my apartment and outof Dulcie's way, too, when you're drunk! You're not going to last verylong on this job; I can see that plainly----"
"Faith, sorr, you're right! I'm fired out entirely this blessedminute!"
"You've been discharged?"
"I have that, sorr!"
"What for? Drunkenness?"
"Th' divil do I know phwat for! Wisha, then, Misther Barres, is thereanny harrm av a man----"
"Yes, there is! I told you Grogan's would do the trick for you. Nowyou're discharged without a reference, I suppose."
Soane smiled airily:
"Misther Barres, dear, don't lave that worrit ye! I want no riferencefrom anny landlord. Sure, landlords is tyrants, too! An' phwat thedivil should I be wantin'----"
"What are you going to do then?"
Soane hooked both thumbs into the armholes of his vest, and swaggeredabout the room:
"God bless yer kind heart, sorr, I've a-plenty to do and more for goodmeasure!" He came up to confront Barres, and laid a mysterious fingeralongside his over-red nose and began to brag:
"There's thim in high places as looks afther the likes o' me, sorr.There's thim that thrusts me, thim that depinds on me----"
"Have you another job?"
Soane's scorn was superb:
"A job is ut? Misther Barres, dear, I was injuced f'r to accept a_position_ of grave importance!"
"Here in town?"
"Somewhere around tin thousand miles away or thereabouts," remarkedSoane airily.
"Do you mean to take Dulcie with you?"
"Musha, then, Misther Barres, 'tis why I come to ye above f'r to ax yewill ye look afther Dulcie av I go away on me thravels?"
"Yes, I will!... Where are you going? What is all this stuff you'retalking, anyway----"
"Shtuff? God be good to you, it's no shtuff I talk, Misther Barres!Sure, can't a decent man thravel f'r to see the wurruld as God made itan' no harrm in----"
"Be careful what company you travel in," said Barres, looking at himintently. "You have been travelling around New York in very suspiciouscompany, Soane. I know more about it than you think I do. And itwouldn't surprise me if you have a run-in with the police some day."
"The po-lice, sorr! Arrah, then, me fut in me hand an' me tongue in mecheek to the likes o' thim! An' lave them go hoppin' afther me avthey like. The po-lice is ut! Open y'r two ears, asthore, an' listenhere!--there'll be nary po-lice, no nor constabulary, nor excise, norlandlords the day that Ireland flies her flag on Dublin Castle! Sure,that will be the grand sight, with all the rats a-runnin', an' all thehurryin' and scurryin' an' the futther and mutther----"
"_What_ are you gabbling about, Soane? What's all this boastingabout?"
"Gabble is ut? Is it boastin' I am? Sorra the day! An' there do begrand gintlemen and gay ladies to-day that shall look for a roof an' asup o' tay this day three weeks, when th' fut o' the tyrant is liftedfrom the neck of Ireland an' the landlords is runnin' for theirlives----"
"I thought so!" exclaimed Barres, disgusted.
"An' phwat was ye thinkin', sorr?"
"That your German friends at Grogan's are stirring up trouble amongthe Irish. What's all this nonsense, anyway? Are they trying topersuade you to follow the old Fenian tactics and raid Canada? Or isit an armed expedition to the Irish coast? You'd better be careful;they'll only lock you up here, but it's a hanging matter over there!"
"Is it so?" grinned Soane.
"It surely is."
"Well, then, be aisy, Misther Barres, dear. Av there's hangin' to bedone this time, 'twill not be thim as wears the green that hangs!"
Barres slowly shook his head:
"This is German work. You're sticking your neck into the noose."
"Lave the noose for the Clan-na-Gael to pull, sorr, an' 'twillshqueeze no Irish neck!"
"You're a fool, Soane! These Germans are exploiting such men as you.Where's your common sense? Can't you see you're playing a German game?What do they care what becomes of you or of Ireland? All they want isfor you to annoy England at any cost. And the cost is death! Do youdream for an instant that you and your friends stand a ghost of achance if you are crazy enough to invade Canada? Do you suppose itpossible to land an expedition on the Irish coast?"
Soane deliberately winked at him. Then he burst into laughter andstood rocking there on heel and toe while his mirth lasted.
But the inevitable Celtic reaction presently sobered him and switchedhim into a sombre recapitulation of Erin's wrongs. And this tragicinventory brought the inevitable tears in time. And Woe awoke in himthe memory of the personal and pathetic.
The world had dealt him a wretched hand. He had sat in a crooked gamefrom the beginning. The cards had been stacked; the dice were cogged.And now he meant to make the world disgorge--pay up the living that itowed him.
Barres attempted to stem the flow of volubility, but it instantlybecame a torrent.
Nobody knew the sorrows of Ireland or of the Irish. Tyranny had markedthem for its own. As for himself--once a broth of a boy--he had beentorn from the sacred precincts of his native shanty and consigned to aloveless, unhappy marriage.
Then Barres listened without interrupting. But the woes of Soanebecame vague at that point. Veiled references to being "thrampled on,"to "th' big house," to "thim that was high an' shtiff-necked,"abounded in an unconnected way. There was something about being aservant at the fireside of his own wife--a footstool on the hearth ofhis own home--other incomprehensible plaints and mutterings, manyscalding tears, a blub or two, and a sort of whining silence.
Then Barres said:
"Who is Dulcie, Soane?"
The man, seated now on his bed, lifted a congested and stupid visageas though he had not comprehended.
"Is Dulcie your daughter?" demanded Barres.
Soane's blue eyes wandered wildly in an agony of recollection:
"Did I say she was _not_, sorr?" he faltered. "Av I told ye that, maythe saints forgive me----"
"Is it true?"
"Ah, what was I afther sayin', Misther----"
"Never mind what you said or left unsaid! I want to ask you anotherquestion. Who was Eileen Fane?"
Soane bounded to his feet, his blue eyes ablaze:
"Holy Mother o' God! What have I said!"
"Was Eileen Fane your wife?"
"Did I say her blessed name!" shouted Soane. "Sorra the sup I tuk thatloosed the tongue o' me this cursed day! 'Twas the dommed whishkeyinside o' me that told ye that--not me--not Larry Soane! Wurra the dayI said it! An' listen, now, f'r the love o' God! Take pride toyourself, sorr, for all the goodness ye done to Dulcie.
"An' av I go, and I come no more to vex her, I thank God 'tis in agintleman's hands the child do be----" He choked; his marred handsdropped by his side, and he stared dumbly at Barres for a moment.Then:
"Av I come no more, will ye guard her?"
"Yes."
"Will ye do fair by her, Misther Barres?"
"Yes."
"Call God to hear ye say ut!"
"So--help me--God."
Soane dropped on to the bed and took his battered face and curly h
eadbetween his hands.
"I'll say no more," he said thickly. "Nor you nor she shall know nomore. An' av ye have guessed it out, kape it locked in. I'll say nomore.... I was good to her--in me own way. But ye cud see--anny wanwith half a cock-eye cud see.... I was--honest--with her mother....She made the bargain.... I tuk me pay an' held me tongue.... 'Tiswhishkey talks, not me.... I tuk me pay an' I kept to the bargain....Wan year.... Then--she was dead of it--like a flower, sorr--like therose ye pull an' lave lyin' in the sun.... Like that, sorr--in ayear.... An' I done me best be Dulcie.... I done me best. An' held tothe bargain.... An' done me best be Dulcie--little Dulcie--the weebaby that had come at last--_her_ baby--Dulcie Fane!..."