The Fruit of the Tree Read online

  VII

  AMHERST could never afterward regain a detailed impression of the weeksthat followed. They lived in his memory chiefly as exponents of theunforeseen, nothing he had looked for having come to pass in the way orat the time expected; while the whole movement of life was like thenoon-day flow of a river, in which the separate ripples of brightnessare all merged in one blinding glitter. His recurring conferences withMrs. Westmore formed, as it were, the small surprising kernel of factabout which sensations gathered and grew with the swift ripening of amagician's fruit. That she should remain on at Hanaford to look into thecondition of the mills did not, in itself, seem surprising to Amherst;for his short phase of doubt had been succeeded by an abundant inflow offaith in her intentions. It satisfied his inner craving for harmony thather face and spirit should, after all, so corroborate and complete eachother; that it needed no moral sophistry to adjust her acts to herappearance, her words to the promise of her smile. But her immediateconfidence in him, her resolve to support him in his avowedinsubordination, to ignore, with the royal license of her sex, all thatwas irregular and inexpedient in asking his guidance while the wholeofficial strength of the company darkened the background with agathering storm of disapproval--this sense of being the glove flung byher hand in the face of convention, quickened astonishingly the flow ofAmherst's sensations. It was as though a mountain-climber, braced to thestrain of a hard ascent, should suddenly see the way break into roses,and level itself in a path for his feet.

  On his second visit he found the two ladies together, and Mrs. Ansell'ssmile of approval seemed to cast a social sanction on the episode, toclassify it as comfortably usual and unimportant. He could see that herfriend's manner put Bessy at ease, helping her to ask her own questions,and to reflect on his suggestions, with less bewilderment and moreself-confidence. Mrs. Ansell had the faculty of restoring to her thebelief in her reasoning powers that her father could dissolve in amonosyllable.

  The talk, on this occasion, had turned mainly on the future of theDillon family, on the best means of compensating for the accident, and,incidentally, on the care of the young children of the mill-colony.Though Amherst did not believe in the extremer forms of industrialpaternalism, he was yet of opinion that, where married women wereemployed, the employer should care for their children. He had beengradually, and somewhat reluctantly, brought to this conviction by themany instances of unavoidable neglect and suffering among the childrenof the women-workers at Westmore; and Mrs. Westmore took up the schemewith all the ardour of her young motherliness, quivering at the thoughtof hungry or ailing children while her Cicely, leaning a silken headagainst her, lifted puzzled eyes to her face.

  On the larger problems of the case it was less easy to fix Bessy'sattention; but Amherst was far from being one of the extreme theoristswho reject temporary remedies lest they defer the day of generalrenewal, and since he looked on every gain in the material condition ofthe mill-hands as a step in their moral growth, he was quite willing tohold back his fundamental plans while he discussed the establishment ofa nursery, and of a night-school for the boys in the mills.

  The third time he called, he found Mr. Langhope and Mr. Halford Gainesof the company. The President of the Westmore mills was a trimmiddle-sized man, whose high pink varnish of good living would haveturned to purple could he have known Mr. Langhope's opinion of hisjewelled shirt-front and the padded shoulders of his evening-coat.Happily he had no inkling of these views, and was fortified in hiscommand of the situation by an unimpaired confidence in his ownappearance; while Mr. Langhope, discreetly withdrawn behind a veil ofcigar-smoke, let his silence play like a fine criticism over the variousphases of the discussion.

  It was a surprise to Amherst to find himself in Mr. Gaines's presence.The President, secluded in his high office, seldom visited the mills,and when there showed no consciousness of any presence lower thanTruscomb's; and Amherst's first thought was that, in the manager'senforced absence, he was to be called to account by the head of thefirm. But he was affably welcomed by Mr. Gaines, who made it clear thathis ostensible purpose in coming was to hear Amherst's views as to theproposed night-schools and nursery. These were pointedly alluded to asMrs. Westmore's projects, and the young man was made to feel that he wasmerely called in as a temporary adviser in Truscomb's absence. This was,in fact, the position Amherst preferred to take, and he scrupulouslyrestricted himself to the answering of questions, letting Mrs. Westmoreunfold his plans as though they had been her own. "It is much better,"he reflected, "that they should all think so, and she too, for Truscombwill be on his legs again in a day or two, and then my hours will benumbered."

  Meanwhile he was surprised to find Mr. Gaines oddly amenable to theproposed innovations, which he appeared to regard as new fashions inmill-management, to be adopted for the same cogent reasons as a new cutin coat-tails.

  "Of course we want to be up-to-date--there's no reason why the Westmoremills shouldn't do as well by their people as any mills in the country,"he affirmed, in the tone of the entertainer accustomed to say: "I wantthe thing done handsomely." But he seemed even less conscious than Mrs.Westmore that each particular wrong could be traced back to a radicalvice in the system. He appeared to think that every murmur of assent toher proposals passed the sponge, once for all, over the difficultypropounded: as though a problem in algebra should be solved by wiping itoff the blackboard.

  "My dear Bessy, we all owe you a debt of gratitude for coming here, andbringing, so to speak, a fresh eye to bear on the subject. If I've been,perhaps, a little too exclusively absorbed in making the millsprofitable, my friend Langhope will, I believe, not be the firstto--er--cast a stone at me." Mr. Gaines, who was the soul of delicacy,stumbled a little over the awkward associations connected with thisfigure, but, picking himself up, hastened on to affirm: "And in thatrespect, I think we can challenge comparison with any industry in thestate; but I am the first to admit that there may be another side, aside that it takes a woman--a mother--to see. For instance," he threw injocosely, "I flatter myself that I know how to order a good dinner; butI always leave the flowers to my wife. And if you'll permit me to sayso," he went on, encouraged by the felicity of his image, "I believe itwill produce a most pleasing effect--not only on the operativesthemselves, but on the whole of Hanaford--on our own set of peopleespecially--to have you come here and interest yourself inthe--er--philanthropic side of the work."

  Bessy coloured a little. She blushed easily, and was perhaps notover-discriminating as to the quality of praise received; but under herripple of pleasure a stronger feeling stirred, and she said hastily: "Iam afraid I never should have thought of these things if Mr. Amherst hadnot pointed them out to me."

  Mr. Gaines met this blandly. "Very gratifying to Mr. Amherst to have youput it in that way; and I am sure we all appreciate his valuable hints.Truscomb himself could not have been more helpful, though his largerexperience will no doubt be useful later on, in developingand--er--modifying your plans."

  It was difficult to reconcile this large view of the moral issue withthe existence of abuses which made the management of the Westmore millsas unpleasantly notorious in one section of the community as it wasagreeably notable in another. But Amherst was impartial enough to seethat Mr. Gaines was unconscious of the incongruities of the situation.He left the reconciling of incompatibles to Truscomb with the simplefaith of the believer committing a like task to his maker: it was in themanager's mind that the dark processes of adjustment took place. Mr.Gaines cultivated the convenient and popular idea that by ignoringwrongs one is not so much condoning as actually denying their existence;and in pursuance of this belief he devoutly abstained from studying theconditions at Westmore.

  A farther surprise awaited Amherst when Truscomb reappeared in theoffice. The manager was always a man of few words; and for the firstdays his intercourse with his assistant was restricted to askingquestions and issuing orders. Soon afterward, it became known thatDillon's arm was to be amputated, and that afternoon Truscomb wassummon
ed to see Mrs. Westmore. When he returned he sent for Amherst; andthe young man felt sure that his hour had come.

  He was at dinner when the message reached him, and he knew from thetightening of his mother's lips that she too interpreted it in the sameway. He was glad that Duplain's presence kept her from speaking herfears; and he thanked her inwardly for the smile with which she watchedhim go.

  That evening, when he returned, the smile was still at its post; but itdropped away wearily as he said, with his hands on her shoulders: "Don'tworry, mother; I don't know exactly what's happening, but we're notblacklisted yet."

  Mrs. Amherst had immediately taken up her work, letting her nervoustension find its usual escape through her finger-tips. Her needlesflagged as she lifted her eyes to his.

  "Something _is_ happening, then?" she murmured.

  "Oh, a number of things, evidently--but though I'm in the heart of them,I can't yet make out how they are going to affect me."

  His mother's glance twinkled in time with the flash of her needles."There's always a safe place in the heart of a storm," she saidshrewdly; and Amherst rejoined with a laugh: "Well, if it's Truscomb'sheart, I don't know that it's particularly safe for me."

  "Tell me just what he said, John," she begged, making no attempt tocarry the pleasantry farther, though its possibilities still seemed toflicker about her lip; and Amherst proceeded to recount his talk withthe manager.

  Truscomb, it appeared, had made no allusion to Dillon; his avowedpurpose in summoning his assistant had been to discuss with the latterthe question of the proposed nursery and schools. Mrs. Westmore, atAmherst's suggestion, had presented these projects as her own; but thequestion of a site having come up, she had mentioned to Truscomb hisassistant's proposal that the company should buy for the purpose thenotorious Eldorado. The road-house in question had always been one ofthe most destructive influences in the mill-colony, and Amherst had madeone or two indirect attempts to have the building converted to otheruses; but the persistent opposition he encountered gave colour to thepopular report that the manager took a high toll from the landlord.

  It therefore at once occurred to Amherst to suggest the purchase of theproperty to Mrs. Westmore; and he was not surprised to find thatTruscomb's opposition to the scheme centred in the choice of thebuilding. But even at this point the manager betrayed no openresistance; he seemed tacitly to admit Amherst's right to discuss theproposed plans, and even to be consulted concerning the choice of asite. He was ready with a dozen good reasons against the purchase of theroad-house; but here also he proceeded with a discretion unexampled inhis dealings with his subordinates. He acknowledged the harm done by thedance-hall, but objected that he could not conscientiously advise thecompany to pay the extortionate price at which it was held, and remindedAmherst that, if that particular source of offense were removed, otherswould inevitably spring up to replace it; marshalling the usualtemporizing arguments of tolerance and expediency, with no marked changefrom his usual tone, till, just as the interview was ending, he asked,with a sudden drop to conciliation, if the assistant manager hadanything to complain of in the treatment he received.

  This came as such a surprise to Amherst that before he had collectedhimself he found Truscomb ambiguously but unmistakably offeringhim--with the practised indirection of the man accustomed to cover hisshare in such transactions--a substantial "consideration" for droppingthe matter of the road-house. It was incredible, yet it had reallyhappened: the all-powerful Truscomb, who held Westmore in the hollow ofhis hand, had stooped to bribing his assistant because he was afraid todeal with him in a more summary manner. Amherst's leap of anger at theoffer was curbed by the instant perception of its cause. He had no timeto search for a reason; he could only rally himself to meet theunintelligible with a composure as abysmal as Truscomb's; and his voicestill rang with the wonder of the incident as he retailed it to hismother.

  "Think of what it means, mother, for a young woman like Mrs. Westmore,without any experience or any habit of authority, to come here, and atthe first glimpse of injustice, to be so revolted that she finds thecourage and cleverness to put her little hand to the machine andreverse the engines--for it's nothing less that she's done! Oh, I knowthere'll be a reaction--the pendulum's sure to swing back: but you'llsee it won't swing _as far_. Of course I shall go in the end--butTruscomb may go too: Jove, if I could pull him down on me, likewhat's-his-name and the pillars of the temple!"

  He had risen and was measuring the little sitting-room with his longstrides, his head flung back and his eyes dark with the inward look hismother had not always cared to see there. But now her own glance seemedto have caught a ray from his, and the knitting flowed from her handslike the thread of fate, as she sat silent, letting him exhale his hopesand his wonder, and murmuring only, when he dropped again to the chairat her side: "You won't go, Johnny--you won't go."

  * * * * *

  Mrs. Westmore lingered on for over two weeks, and during that timeAmherst was able, in various directions, to develop her interest in themill-workers. His own schemes involved a complete readjustment of therelation between the company and the hands: the suppression of theobsolete company "store" and tenements, which had so long sapped thethrift and ambition of the workers; the transformation of the Hopewoodgrounds into a park and athletic field, and the division of itsremaining acres into building lots for the mill-hands; the establishingof a library, a dispensary and emergency hospital, and various othercentres of humanizing influence; but he refrained from letting her seethat his present suggestion was only a part of this larger plan, lesther growing sympathy should be checked. He had in his mother an exampleof the mind accessible only to concrete impressions: the mind whichcould die for the particular instance, yet remain serenely indifferentto its causes. To Mrs. Amherst, her son's work had been interestingsimply because it _was_ his work: remove his presence from Westmore, andthe whole industrial problem became to her as non-existent as star-dustto the naked eye. And in Bessy Westmore he divined a nature of the samequality--divined, but no longer criticized it. Was not thatconcentration on the personal issue just the compensating grace of hersex? Did it not offer a warm tint of human inconsistency to eyes chilledby contemplating life in the mass? It pleased Amherst for the moment toclass himself with the impersonal student of social problems, though intruth his interest in them had its source in an imagination as open asBessy's to the pathos of the personal appeal. But if he had the samesensitiveness, how inferior were his means of expressing it! Again andagain, during their talks, he had the feeling which had come to him whenshe bent over Dillon's bed--that her exquisite lines were, in somemystical sense, the visible flowering of her nature, that they had takenshape in response to the inward motions of the heart.

  To a young man ruled by high enthusiasms there can be no more dazzlingadventure than to work this miracle in the tender creature who yieldsher mind to his--to see, as it were, the blossoming of the spiritualseed in forms of heightened loveliness, the bluer beam of the eye, thericher curve of the lip, all the physical currents of life quickeningunder the breath of a kindled thought. It did not occur to him that anyother emotion had effected the change he perceived. Bessy Westmore hadin full measure that gift of unconscious hypocrisy which enables a womanto make the man in whom she is interested believe that she enters intoall his thoughts. She had--more than this--the gift of self-deception,supreme happiness of the unreflecting nature, whereby she was able tobelieve herself solely engrossed in the subjects they discussed, toregard him as the mere spokesman of important ideas, thus saving theirintercourse from present constraint, and from the awkward contemplationof future contingencies. So, in obedience to the ancient sorcery oflife, these two groped for and found each other in regions seemingly soremote from the accredited domain of romance that it would have been asa great surprise to them to learn whither they had strayed as to seethe arid streets of Westmore suddenly bursting into leaf.

  With Mrs. Westmore's departure Amherst, for the first
time, became awareof a certain flatness in his life. His daily task seemed dull andpurposeless, and he was galled by Truscomb's studied forbearance, underwhich he suspected a quickly accumulating store of animosity. He almostlonged for some collision which would release the manager's pent-upresentment; yet he dreaded increasingly any accident that might make hisstay at Westmore impossible.

  It was on Sundays, when he was freed from his weekly task, that he wasmost at the mercy of these opposing feelings. They drove him forth onlong solitary walks beyond the town, walks ending most often in thedeserted grounds of Hopewood, beautiful now in the ruined gold ofOctober. As he sat under the beech-limbs above the river, watching itsbrown current sweep the willow-roots of the banks, he thought how thissame current, within its next short reach, passed from wooded seclusionto the noise and pollution of the mills. So his own life seemed to havepassed once more from the tranced flow of the last weeks into its oldchannel of unillumined labour. But other thoughts came to him too: thevision of converting that melancholy pleasure-ground into an outlet forthe cramped lives of the mill-workers; and he pictured the weed-grownlawns and paths thronged with holiday-makers, and the slopes nearer thefactories dotted with houses and gardens.

  An unexpected event revived these hopes. A few days before Christmas itbecame known to Hanaford that Mrs. Westmore would return for theholidays. Cicely was drooping in town air, and Bessy had persuaded Mr.Langhope that the bracing cold of Hanaford would be better for the childthan the milder atmosphere of Long Island. They reappeared, and broughtwith them a breath of holiday cheerfulness such as Westmore had neverknown. It had always been the rule at the mills to let the operativestake their pleasure as they saw fit, and the Eldorado and the Hanafordsaloons throve on this policy. But Mrs. Westmore arrived full of festalprojects. There was to be a giant Christmas tree for the mill-children,a supper on the same scale for the operatives, and a bout of skating andcoasting at Hopewood for the older lads--the "band" and "bobbin" boys inwhom Amherst had always felt a special interest. The Gaines ladies,resolved to show themselves at home in the latest philanthropicfashions, actively seconded Bessy's endeavours, and for a week Westmorebasked under a sudden heat-wave of beneficence.

  The time had passed when Amherst might have made light of such efforts.With Bessy Westmore smiling up, holly-laden, from the foot of the ladderon which she kept him perched, how could he question the efficacy ofhanging the opening-room with Christmas wreaths, or the ultimate benefitof gorging the operatives with turkey and sheathing their offspring inred mittens? It was just like the end of a story-book with a prettymoral, and Amherst was in the mood to be as much taken by the tinsel asthe youngest mill-baby held up to gape at the tree.

  At the New Year, when Mrs. Westmore left, the negotiations for thepurchase of the Eldorado were well advanced, and it was understood thaton their completion she was to return for the opening of thenight-school and nursery. Suddenly, however, it became known that theproprietor of the road-house had decided not to sell. Amherst heard ofthe decision from Duplain, and at once foresaw the inevitableresult--that Mrs. Westmore's plan would be given up owing to thedifficulty of finding another site. Mr. Gaines and Truscomb had bothdiscountenanced the erection of a special building for what was, afterall, only a tentative enterprise. Among the purchasable houses inWestmore no other was suited to the purpose, and they had, therefore, agood excuse for advising Bessy to defer her experiment.

  Almost at the same time, however, another piece of news changed theaspect of affairs. A scandalous occurrence at the Eldorado, witnesses towhich were unexpectedly forthcoming, put it in Amherst's power tothreaten the landlord with exposure unless he should at once accept thecompany's offer and withdraw from Westmore. Amherst had no long time toconsider the best means of putting this threat into effect. He knew itwas not only idle to appeal to Truscomb, but essential to keep the factsfrom him till the deed was done; yet how obtain the authority to actwithout him? The seemingly insuperable difficulties of the situationwhetted Amherst's craving for a struggle. He thought first of writing toMrs. Westmore;, but now that the spell of her presence was withdrawn hefelt how hard it would be to make her understand the need of prompt andsecret action; and besides, was it likely that, at such short notice,she could command the needful funds? Prudence opposed the attempt, andon reflection he decided to appeal to Mr. Gaines, hoping that theflagrancy of the case would rouse the President from his usual attitudeof indifference.

  Mr. Gaines was roused to the extent of showing a profound resentmentagainst the cause of his disturbance. He relieved his sense ofresponsibility by some didactic remarks on the vicious tendencies of theworking-classes, and concluded with the reflection that the more you didfor them the less thanks you got. But when Amherst showed anunwillingness to let the matter rest on this time-honoured aphorism, thePresident retrenched himself behind ambiguities, suggestions that theyshould await Mrs. Westmore's return, and general considerations of apessimistic nature, tapering off into a gloomy view of the weather.

  "By God, I'll write to her!" Amherst exclaimed, as the Gaines portalsclosed on him; and all the way back to Westmore he was busy marshallinghis arguments and entreaties.

  He wrote the letter that night, but did not post it. Some unavoweddistrust of her restrained him--a distrust not of her heart but of herintelligence. He felt that the whole future of Westmore was at stake,and decided to await the development of the next twenty-four hours. Theletter was still in his pocket when, after dinner, he was summoned tothe office by Truscomb.

  That evening, when he returned home, he entered the little sitting-roomwithout speaking. His mother sat there alone, in her usual place--howmany nights he had seen the lamplight slant at that particular angleacross her fresh cheek and the fine wrinkles about her eyes! He wasgoing to add another wrinkle to the number now--soon they would creepdown and encroach upon the smoothness of the cheek.

  She looked up and saw that his glance was turned to the crowdedbookshelves behind her.

  "There must be nearly a thousand of them," he said as their eyes met.

  "Books? Yes--with your father's. Why--were you thinking...?" She startedup suddenly and crossed over to him.

  "Too many for wanderers," he continued, drawing her hands to his breast;then, as she clung to him, weeping and trembling a little: "It had tobe, mother," he said, kissing her penitently where the fine wrinklesdied into the cheek.