The Fruit of the Tree Read online

  VI

  BEFORE daylight that same morning Amherst, dressing by the gas-flameabove his cheap wash-stand, strove to bring some order into his angrythoughts. It humbled him to feel his purpose tossing rudderless onunruly waves of emotion, yet strive as he would he could not regain ahold on it. The events of the last twenty-four hours had been too rapidand unexpected for him to preserve his usual clear feeling of mastery;and he had, besides, to reckon with the first complete surprise of hissenses. His way of life had excluded him from all contact with thesubtler feminine influences, and the primitive side of the relation lefthis imagination untouched. He was therefore the more assailable by thoserefined forms of the ancient spell that lurk in delicacy of feelinginterpreted by loveliness of face. By his own choice he had cut himselfoff from all possibility of such communion; had accepted completeabstinence for that part of his nature which might have offered arefuge from the stern prose of his daily task. But his personalindifference to his surroundings--deliberately encouraged as a defianceto the attractions of the life he had renounced--proved no defenceagainst this appeal; rather, the meanness of his surroundings combinedwith his inherited refinement of taste to deepen the effect of Bessy'scharm.

  As he reviewed the incidents of the past hours, a reaction ofself-derision came to his aid. What was this exquisite opportunity fromwhich he had cut himself off? What, to reduce the question to a personalissue, had Mrs. Westmore said or done that, on the part of a plainwoman, would have quickened his pulses by the least fraction of asecond? Why, it was only the old story of the length of Cleopatra'snose! Because her eyes were a heavenly vehicle for sympathy, because hervoice was pitched to thrill the tender chords, he had been deluded intothinking that she understood and responded to his appeal. And her ownemotions had been wrought upon by means as cheap: it was only theobvious, theatrical side of the incident that had affected her. IfDillon's wife had been old and ugly, would she have been clasped to heremployer's bosom? A more expert knowledge of the sex would have toldAmherst that such ready sympathy is likely to be followed by as prompt areaction of indifference. Luckily Mrs. Westmore's course had served as acorrective for his lack of experience; she had even, as it appeared,been at some pains to hasten the process of disillusionment. This timelydiscipline left him blushing at his own insincerity; for he now saw thathe had risked his future not because of his zeal for the welfare of themill-hands, but because Mrs. Westmore's look was like sunshine on hisfrozen senses, and because he was resolved, at any cost, to arrest herattention, to associate himself with her by the only means in his power.

  Well, he deserved to fail with such an end in view; and the futility ofhis scheme was matched by the vanity of his purpose. In the cold lightof disenchantment it seemed as though he had tried to build animpregnable fortress out of nursery blocks. How could he have foreseenanything but failure for so preposterous an attempt? His breach ofdiscipline would of course be reported at once to Mr. Gaines andTruscomb; and the manager, already jealous of his assistant's popularitywith the hands, which was a tacit criticism of his own methods, wouldpromptly seize the pretext to be rid of him. Amherst was aware that onlyhis technical efficiency, and his knack of getting the maximum of workout of the operatives, had secured him from Truscomb's animosity. Fromthe outset there had been small sympathy between the two; but thescarcity of competent and hard-working assistants had made Truscombendure him for what he was worth to the mills. Now, however, his ownfolly had put the match to the manager's smouldering dislike, and he sawhimself, in consequence, discharged and black-listed, and perhapsroaming for months in quest of a job. He knew the efficiency of thatfar-reaching system of defamation whereby the employers of labour pursueand punish the subordinate who incurs their displeasure. In the case ofa mere operative this secret persecution often worked complete ruin; andeven to a man of Amherst's worth it opened the dispiriting prospect of along struggle for rehabilitation.

  Deep down, he suffered most at the thought that his blow for theoperatives had failed; but on the surface it was the manner of hisfailure that exasperated him. For it seemed to prove him unfit for thevery work to which he was drawn: that yearning to help the world forwardthat, in some natures, sets the measure to which the personal adventuremust keep step. Amherst had hitherto felt himself secured by his insightand self-control from the emotional errors besetting the way of theenthusiast; and behold, he had stumbled into the first sentimental trapin his path, and tricked his eyes with a Christmas-chromo vision oflovely woman dispensing coals and blankets! Luckily, though such woundsto his self-confidence cut deep, he could apply to them the antisepticof an unfailing humour; and before he had finished dressing, thepicture of his wide schemes of social reform contracting to a blue-eyedphilanthropy of cheques and groceries, had provoked a reaction oflaughter. Perhaps the laughter came too soon, and rang too loud, to betrue to the core; but at any rate it healed the edges of his hurt, andgave him a sound surface of composure.

  But he could not laugh away the thought of the trials to which hisintemperance had probably exposed his mother; and when, at thebreakfast-table, from which Duplain had already departed, she broke intopraise of their visitor, it was like a burning irritant on his wound.

  "What a face, John! Of course I don't often see people of that kindnow--" the words, falling from her too simply to be reproachful, wrunghim, for that, all the more--"but I'm sure that kind of soft lovelinessis rare everywhere; like a sweet summer morning with the mist on it. TheGaines girls, now, are my idea of the modern type; very handsome, ofcourse, but you see just _how_ handsome the first minute. I like a storythat keeps one wondering till the end. It was very kind of MariaAnsell," Mrs. Amherst wandered happily on, "to come and hunt me outyesterday, and I enjoyed our quiet talk about old times. But what Iliked best was seeing Mrs. Westmore--and, oh, John, if she came to livehere, what a benediction to the mills!"

  Amherst was silent, moved most of all by the unimpaired simplicity ofheart with which his mother could take up past relations, and open hermeagre life to the high visitations of grace and fashion, without atinge of self-consciousness or apology. "I shall never be as genuine asthat," he thought, remembering how he had wished to have Mrs. Westmoreknow that he was of her own class. How mixed our passions are, and howelastic must be the word that would cover any one of them! Amherst's, atthat moment, were all stained with the deep wound to his self-love.

  The discolouration he carried in his eye made the mill-village seem morethan commonly cheerless and ugly as he walked over to the office afterbreakfast. Beyond the grim roof-line of the factories a dazzle of rayssent upward from banked white clouds the promise of another brilliantday; and he reflected that Mrs. Westmore would soon be speeding home tothe joy of a gallop over the plains.

  Far different was the task that awaited him--yet it gave him a pang tothink that he might be performing it for the last time. In spite of Mr.Tredegar's assurances, he was certain that the report of his conductmust by this time have reached the President, and been transmitted toTruscomb; the latter was better that morning, and the next day he woulddoubtless call his rebellious assistant to account. Amherst, meanwhile,took up his routine with a dull heart. Even should his offense becondoned, his occupation presented, in itself, little future to a manwithout money or powerful connections. Money! He had spurned the thoughtof it in choosing his work, yet he now saw that, without its aid, he waspowerless to accomplish the object to which his personal desires hadbeen sacrificed. His love of his craft had gradually been merged in thelarger love for his fellow-workers, and in the resulting desire to liftand widen their lot. He had once fancied that this end might be attainedby an internal revolution in the management of the Westmore mills; thathe might succeed in creating an industrial object-lesson conspicuousenough to point the way to wiser law-making and juster relations betweenthe classes. But the last hours' experiences had shown him how vain itwas to assault single-handed the strong barrier between money andlabour, and how his own dash at the breach had only thrust him fartherback into th
e obscure ranks of the stragglers. It was, after all, onlythrough politics that he could return successfully to the attack; andfinancial independence was the needful preliminary to a politicalcareer. If he had stuck to the law he might, by this time, have beennearer his goal; but then the gold might not have mattered, since it wasonly by living among the workers that he had learned to care for theirfate. And rather than have forfeited that poignant yet mighty vision ofthe onward groping of the mass, rather than have missed the widening ofhis own nature that had come through sharing their hopes and pains, hewould still have turned from the easier way, have chosen the deeperinitiation rather than the readier attainment.

  But this philosophic view of the situation was a mere thread of light onthe farthest verge of his sky: much nearer were the clouds of immediatecare, amid which his own folly, and his mother's possible suffering fromit, loomed darkest; and these considerations made him resolve that, ifhis insubordination were overlooked, he would swallow the affront of apardon, and continue for the present in the mechanical performance ofhis duties. He had just brought himself to this leaden state ofacquiescence when one of the clerks in the outer office thrust his headin to say: "A lady asking for you--" and looking up, Amherst beheldBessy Westmore.

  She came in alone, with an air of high self-possession in markedcontrast to her timidity and indecision of the previous day. Amherstthought she looked taller, more majestic; so readily may the upwardslant of a soft chin, the firmer line of yielding brows, add a cubit tothe outward woman. Her aspect was so commanding that he fancied she hadcome to express her disapproval of his conduct, to rebuke him for lackof respect to Mr. Tredegar; but a moment later it became clear, even tohis inexperienced perceptions, that it was not to himself that herchallenge was directed.

  She advanced toward the seat he had moved forward, but in her absorptionforgot to seat herself, and stood with her clasped hands resting on theback of the chair.

  "I have come back to talk to you," she began, in her sweet voice withits occasional quick lift of appeal. "I knew that, in Mr. Truscomb'sabsence, it would be hard for you to leave the mills, and there are oneor two things I want you to explain before I go away--some of thethings, for instance, that you spoke to Mr. Tredegar about last night."

  Amherst's feeling of constraint returned. "I'm afraid I expressed myselfbadly; I may have annoyed him--" he began.

  She smiled this away, as though irrelevant to the main issue. "Perhapsyou don't quite understand each other--but I am sure you can make itclear to me." She sank into the chair, resting one arm on the edge ofthe desk behind which he had resumed his place. "That is the reason whyI came alone," she continued. "I never can understand when a lot ofpeople are trying to tell me a thing all at once. And I don't suppose Icare as much as a man would--a lawyer especially--about the forms thatought to be observed. All I want is to find out what is wrong and how toremedy it."

  Her blue eyes met Amherst's in a look that flowed like warmth about hisheart. How should he have doubted that her feelings were as exquisite asher means of expressing them? The iron bands of distrust were loosenedfrom his spirit, and he blushed for his cheap scepticism of the morning.In a woman so evidently nurtured in dependence, whose views had beenformed, and her actions directed, by the most conventional influences,the mere fact of coming alone to Westmore, in open defiance of heradvisers, bespoke a persistence of purpose that put his doubts to shame.

  "It will make a great difference to the people here if you interestyourself in them," he rejoined. "I tried to explain to Mr. Tredegar thatI had no wish to criticise the business management of the mills--even ifthere had been any excuse for my doing so--but that I was sure thecondition of the operatives could be very much improved, withoutpermanent harm to the business, by any one who felt a personal sympathyfor them; and in the end I believe such sympathy produces better work,and so benefits the employer materially."

  She listened with her gentle look of trust, as though committing to him,with the good faith of a child, her ignorance, her credulity, her littlerudimentary convictions and her little tentative aspirations, relying onhim not to abuse or misdirect them in the boundless supremacy of hismasculine understanding.

  "That is just what I want you to explain to me," she said. "But first Ishould like to know more about the poor man who was hurt. I meant to seehis wife yesterday, but Mr. Gaines told me she would be at work tillsix, and it would have been difficult to go after that. I _did_ go tothe hospital; but the man was sleeping--is Dillon his name?--and thematron told us he was much better. Dr. Disbrow came in the evening andsaid the same thing--told us it was all a false report about his havingbeen so badly hurt, and that Mr. Truscomb was very much annoyed when heheard of your having said, before the operatives, that Dillon would losehis arm."

  Amherst smiled. "Ah--Mr. Truscomb heard that? Well, he's right to beannoyed: I ought not to have said it when I did. But unfortunately I amnot the only one to be punished. The operative who tied on the blackcloth was dismissed this morning."

  Mrs. Westmore flamed up. "Dismissed for that? Oh, how unjust--howcruel!"

  "You must look at both sides of the case," said Amherst, finding it mucheasier to remain temperate in the glow he had kindled than if he had hadto force his own heat into frozen veins. "Of course any act ofinsubordination must be reprimanded--but I think a reprimand would havebeen enough."

  It gave him an undeniable throb of pleasure to find that she was not tobe checked by such arguments. "But he shall be put back--I won't haveany one discharged for such a reason! You must find him for me atonce--you must tell him----"

  Once more Amherst gently restrained her. "If you'll forgive my sayingso, I think it is better to let him go, and take his chance of gettingwork elsewhere. If he were taken back he might be made to suffer. Asthings are organized here, the hands are very much at the mercy of theoverseers, and the overseer in that room would be likely to make ituncomfortable for a hand who had so openly defied him."

  With a heavy sigh she bent her puzzled brows on him. "How complicated itis! I wonder if I shall ever understand it all. _You_ don't thinkDillon's accident was his own fault, then?"

  "Certainly not; there are too many cards in that room. I pointed out thefact to Mr. Truscomb when the new machines were set up three years ago.An operative may be ever so expert with his fingers, and yet not learnto measure his ordinary movements quite as accurately as if he were anautomaton; and that is what a man must do to be safe in thecarding-room."

  She sighed again. "The more you tell me, the more difficult it allseems. Why is the carding-room so over-crowded?"

  "To make it pay better," Amherst returned bluntly; and the colourflushed her sensitive skin.

  He thought she was about to punish him for his plain-speaking; but shewent on after a pause: "What you say is dreadful. Each thing seems tolead back to another--and I feel so ignorant of it all." She hesitatedagain, and then said, turning her bluest glance on him: "I am going tobe quite frank with you, Mr. Amherst. Mr. Tredegar repeated to me whatyou said to him last night, and I think he was annoyed that you wereunwilling to give any proof of the charges you made."

  "Charges? Ah," Amherst exclaimed, with a start of recollection, "hemeans my refusing to say who told me that Dr. Disbrow was not tellingthe truth about Dillon?"

  "Yes. He said that was a very grave accusation to make, and that no oneshould have made it without being able to give proof."

  "That is quite true, theoretically. But in this case it would be easyfor you or Mr. Tredegar to find out whether I was right."

  "But Mr. Tredegar said you refused to say who told you."

  "I was bound to, as it happened. But I am not bound to prevent yourtrying to get the same information."

  "Ah--" she murmured understandingly; and, a sudden thought striking him,he went on, with a glance at the clock: "If you really wish to judge foryourself, why not go to the hospital now? I shall be free in fiveminutes, and could go with you if you wish it."

  Amherst had remembered the n
urse's cry of recognition when she saw Mrs.Westmore's face under the street-lamp; and it immediately occurred tohim that, if the two women had really known each other, Mrs. Westmorewould have no difficulty in obtaining the information she wanted; while,even if they met as strangers, the dark-eyed girl's perspicacity mightstill be trusted to come to their aid. It remained only to be seen howMrs. Westmore would take his suggestion; but some instinct was alreadytelling him that the highhanded method was the one she really preferred.

  "To the hospital--now? I should like it of all things," she exclaimed,rising with what seemed an almost childish zest in the adventure. "Ofcourse that is the best way of finding out. I ought to have insisted onseeing Dillon yesterday--but I begin to think the matron didn't want meto."

  Amherst left this inference to work itself out in her mind, contentinghimself, as they drove back to Hanaford, with answering her questionsabout Dillon's family, the ages of his children, and his wife's health.Her enquiries, he noticed, did not extend from the particular to thegeneral: her curiosity, as yet, was too purely personal and emotional tolead to any larger consideration of the question. But this larger viewmight grow out of the investigation of Dillon's case; and meanwhileAmherst's own purposes were momentarily lost in the sweet confusion offeeling her near him--of seeing the exquisite grain of her skin, the wayher lashes grew out of a dusky line on the edge of the white lids, theway her hair, stealing in spirals of light from brow to ear, wavered offinto a fruity down on the edge of the cheek.

  At the hospital they were protestingly admitted by Mrs. Ogan, though theofficial "visitors' hour" was not till the afternoon; and beside thesufferer's bed, Amherst saw again that sudden flowering of compassionwhich seemed the key to his companion's beauty: as though her lips hadbeen formed for consolation and her hands for tender offices. It wasclear enough that Dillon, still sunk in a torpor broken by feverishtossings, was making no perceptible progress toward recovery; and Mrs.Ogan was reduced to murmuring some technical explanation about the stateof the wound while Bessy hung above him with reassuring murmurs as tohis wife's fate, and promises that the children should be cared for.

  Amherst had noticed, on entering, that a new nurse--a gaping young womaninstantly lost in the study of Mrs. Westmore's toilet--had replaced thedark-eyed attendant of the day before; and supposing that the latter wastemporarily off duty, he asked Mrs. Ogan if she might be seen.

  The matron's face was a picture of genteel perplexity. "The other nurse?Our regular surgical nurse, Miss Golden, is ill--Miss Hibbs, here, isreplacing her for the present." She indicated the gaping damsel; then,as Amherst persisted: "Ah," she wondered negligently, "do you mean theyoung lady you saw here yesterday? Certainly--I had forgotten: MissBrent was merely a--er--temporary substitute. I believe she wasrecommended to Dr. Disbrow by one of his patients; but we found herquite unsuitable--in fact, unfitted--and the doctor discharged her thismorning."

  Mrs. Westmore had drawn near, and while the matron delivered herexplanation, with an uneasy sorting and shifting of words, a quicksignal of intelligence passed between her hearers. "You see?" Amherst'seyes exclaimed; "I see--they have sent her away because she told you,"Bessy's flashed back in wrath, and his answering look did not deny herinference.

  "Do you know where she has gone?" Amherst enquired; but Mrs. Ogan,permitting her brows a faint lift of surprise, replied that she had noidea of Miss Brent's movements, beyond having heard that she was toleave Hanaford immediately

  In the carriage Bessy exclaimed: "It was the nurse, of course--if wecould only find her! Brent--did Mrs. Ogan say her name was Brent?"

  "Do you know the name?"

  "Yes--at least--but it couldn't, of course, be the girl I knew----"

  "Miss Brent saw you the night you arrived, and thought she recognizedyou. She said you and she had been at some school or convent together."

  "The Sacred Heart? Then it _is_ Justine Brent! I heard they had losttheir money--I haven't seen her for years. But how strange that sheshould be a hospital nurse! And why is she at Hanaford, I wonder?"

  "She was here only on a visit; she didn't tell me where she lived. Shesaid she heard that a surgical nurse was wanted at the hospital, andvolunteered her services; I'm afraid she got small thanks for them."

  "Do you really think they sent her away for talking to you? How do yousuppose they found out?"

  "I waited for her last night when she left the hospital, and I supposeMrs. Ogan or one of the doctors saw us. It was thoughtless of me,"Amherst exclaimed with compunction.

  "I wish I had seen her--poor Justine! We were the greatest friends atthe convent. She was the ringleader in all our mischief--I never saw anyone so quick and clever. I suppose her fun is all gone now."

  For a moment Mrs. Westmore's mind continued to linger among hermemories; then she reverted to the question of the Dillons, and of whatmight best be done for them if Miss Brent's fears should be realized.

  As the carriage neared her door she turned to her companion withextended hand. "Thank you so much, Mr. Amherst. I am glad you suggestedthat Mr. Truscomb should find some work for Dillon about the office. ButI must talk to you about this again--can you come in this evening?"