The Romance of a Plain Man Read online

  CHAPTER XIV

  IN WHICH I TEST MY STRENGTH

  Her words rang in my ears while I went along the crooked pavement underthe burnished sycamore. As I met the General at the corner I was stillhearing them, and they prompted the speech that burst impulsively frommy lips.

  "General, I've got to get rich quickly, and I'm finding a way."

  "You'd better make sure first that your royal road doesn't end in aditch."

  "I was talking to a man from West Virginia yesterday about buying outthe National Oil Company, and I dreamed of it all night. He wants me togo in with him, and start a refining plant. If I can get specialprivileges and rebates from the railroads to give us advantages, we maymake a big business of it."

  "You may and you mayn't. Who's your man?"

  "Sam Brackett. Bob's brother, you know."

  "A mighty good fellow, and shrewd, too. But I'd think it over carefully,if I were you."

  I did think it over, and the result of my thoughts was, as I told theGeneral a fortnight later, the purchase of a refining plant nearClarksburg, and the beginning of a lively war with the competitors inthe business.

  "We're going to sweep the South, General, with the help of therailroad," I said.

  The great man, with his gouty foot in a felt slipper, sat gazingmeditatively over the words of a telegram, which had come on his privatewire.

  "Midland stock is selling at 160," he said. "It's a big railroad, myboy, and I've made it."

  Even to-day, with the living presence of Sally still in my eyes, I wasfilled again with the old unappeasable desire for the great railroad.The woman and the road were distinct and yet blended in my thoughts.

  At dinner-time, when the General hobbled to his buggy on my arm, I madeagain the remark I had blurted out so inopportunely.

  "General, I've been to West Virginia and started the plant, and we'regoing to give Hail Columbia to our competitors."

  He looked at me attentively, and a sly twinkle appeared in his littlewatery grey eyes, which were sunk deep in the bluish and swollensockets.

  "Do you feel yourself getting big, Ben?" he enquired, with a chuckle.

  I shook my head. "Not yet, but it's a fair risk and a good chance tomake a big business."

  "Well, you're right, I suppose, and if you ain't you'll find out beforelong. What's luck, after all, but the thing that enables a man to see along way ahead?"

  He settled himself under his fur rug, flicked the reins over the oldgrey horse, and we drove slowly up Main Street behind a street car.

  "I don't know about luck, General, but I'm going to win out if hardpushing can do it."

  "It can do 'most anything if you only push hard, enough. But you talk asif you were in love, Ben, I've said the same thing a hundred times in myday, I reckon."

  I blushed furiously, and then turning my face from him, stared at agroup of children upon the sidewalk.

  "Whom could I marry, General?" I asked. "You know well enough that awoman in your class wouldn't marry a man in mine--unless--"

  "Unless she were over head and heels in love with him," he chuckled.

  "Unless he were a great man," I corrected.

  "You mean a rich man, Ben? So your oil business is merely a little loveattention, after all."

  "No, money has very little to do with it, and the woman I want to marrywouldn't marry me for money. But it's the mettle that counts, and inthis age, given the position I've started from, how can a man prove hismettle except by success?--and success does mean money. The president ofthe Great South Midland and Atlantic Railroad is obliged to be a richman, isn't he?"

  "So you're still after my job, eh? Is that why you've let me bully andbadger you for the last six years?"

  "It was at the bottom of it," I answered honestly, for the gay old birdliked downright speaking, and I knew it. "I'd rather have been yourconfidential secretary for six years than general manager of traffic. Iwas learning what I wanted to know."

  "And what was that?"

  "The way you did things. The way you handled men and bought and soldstocks."

  "You like the road, too, eh?"

  "I like the road as long as it can be of use to me."

  "And when it ceases to be you'll throw it over?"

  "Yes, if it ever ceases to be I'll throw it over--honestly," I answered.

  "Now that's the thing," he said, "remember always that in handling menhonesty is a big asset. I've always been honest, my boy, and it's helpedme when I needed it. Why, when I came in and got control of the road inthat slump after the war, I was able to reorganise it principallybecause of the reputation for honesty I had earned. It was a long timebefore it began to pay dividends, but nobody grumbled. They knew I wasdoing my best--and that I was doing it fair and square, and to-day wecontrol nearly twenty thousand miles of road."

  "Yes, honesty I've learned in your office, sir."

  "Well, it's good training,--it's mighty good training, if I do say itmyself. You could have got with a darn bloater like Dick Horseley, andhe'd have worked your ruin. Now you never saw me lose my head, did you,eh, Ben?"

  I replied that I had not--not even when his private wire had ticked offnews of the last panic.

  "Well, I never did," he said reflectively, "except with women. Take myadvice, Ben, and find a good sensible wife, even if she's in your ownclass, and marry and settle down. It steadies a man, somehow. I'd be along ways happier to-day," he added, a little wistfully, "if I'd taken awife when I was young."

  I thought of Miss Matoaca, with her bright brown eyes, her witheredroseleaf cheeks, and her sacrifice in the cause of honour.

  "Whatever you are don't be an old bachelor," he pursued after a pause,"it may be pleasant in the beginning, but I'll be blamed if it pays inthe end. Find a good sensible woman who hasn't any opinions of her own,and you will be happy. But as you value your peace, don't go and fall inlove with a woman who has any heathenish ideas in her head. When a womanonce gets that maggot in her brain, she stops believing in gentlenessand self-sacrifice, and by George, she ceases to be a woman. Every manknows there's got to be a lot of sacrifice in marriage, and he likes tofeel that he's marrying a woman who is fully capable of making it. Astrong-minded woman can't--she's gone and unsexed herself--and insteadof taking pleasure in giving up, she begins to talk everlastingly abouther 'honour.' Pshaw! the next thing she'll expect to be treated aspunctiliously as if she were a business partner!"

  The old wound still ached sometimes, it was easy to see; and because ofhis age and his growing infirmities, he found it harder to keep back thequerulous complaints that rose to his lips.

  "Now, there's that George of mine," he resumed, still fretting, "he'sprobably gone and set his eyes on Sally Mickleborough, and it's as plainas daylight that she's got a plenty of that outlandish spirit of heraunt's. I don't mean she's got her notions--I ain't saying any harm ofthe girl--she's handsome enough in spite of Hatty's nonsense about hermouth--and I call it downright scandalous of Edmund Bland to leave everylast penny of his money away from her. But, mark my words, and I tellGeorge so every single day I live, if she marries George he's going tohave trouble as sure as shot. She's just the kind to expect him to makesacrifices, and by Jove, no man wants to be expected to make sacrificesin his own home!"

  Sacrifices! My blood sang in my ears. If she would only marry me I'dpromise to make a sacrifice for her every blessed minute that I lived.

  "And do you think she likes George, General?" I asked timidly.

  "Oh, I don't suppose she knows her own mind," he retorted. "I never inmy life, sir, knew but one woman who did."

  We drove on for a minute in silence, and from the red and watery look inthe General's eyes, I inferred that, in spite of his broken engagementand his bitter judgment, Miss Matoaca had managed to retain her place inhis memory. As I looked at him, sitting there like a wounded eagle,huddled under his fur rug, a feeling of thanksgiving that was almost oneof rapture swelled in my heart. If I had a plain name, I had also aclean life to offer the woman
I loved. When I remembered the strong,pure line of her features, her broad, intelligent brow, her clear,unswerving gaze, I told myself that whatever the world had to say, she,at least, would consider the difference a fair one. At the great momentshe would choose me, I knew, for myself alone; choose in a democracy theman who, God helping him, would stand always for the best in thedemocratic spirit--for courage and truth and strength and a clean honourtoward men and women.

  "Who was that pretty girl, Ben," the General enquired presently, "I sawyou walking with last Sunday? A sweetheart?"

  "No, sir. My sister."

  "A lady? She looked it."

  "She has been taught like one."

  "What'll you do with her? Marry her off?"

  "I haven't thought--but she won't look at any of the men she knows."

  "Oh, well, if the National Oil wins, you may give her a fortune. Thereare plenty of young chaps who would jump at her. Bless my soul, she'smore to my taste than Sally Mickleborough. It's the women who are suchfools about birth, you know, men don't care a rap. Why, if I'd loved awoman, she might have been born in the poorhouse for all the thought I'dhave given it. A pretty face or a small foot goes a long sight fartherwith a man than the tallest grandfather that ever lived." For a momenthe was silent, and then he spoke softly, unconscious that he uttered histhought aloud. "No, Matoaca's birth, whatever it might have been,couldn't have come between us--it was her damned principles."

  He looked tired and old, now that his armour of business had droppedfrom him, as he sat there, with the fur rug drawn over his chest, andhis loose lower lip hanging slightly away from his shrunken gums. Asudden pity, the first I had ever dared feel for the president of theGreat South Midland and Atlantic Railroad, shot through my heart. Thegay old bird, I told myself, was shedding his plumage at last.

  "Well, as long as I can't rest on my birth, I might as well stand up onsomething," I said.

  "Women think a lot of it," he resumed, as if he had not noticed myflippant interjection; "and I reckon it about fits the size of theirminds. Why, to hear Miss Mitty Bland talk you would think good birth wasthe only virtue she admitted to the first rank. I was telling her aboutyou," he added with a chuckle, "and you've got sense enough to see thehumour of what she said."

  "I hope I have, General."

  "Well, I began it by boasting about your looks, Ben, if you don't mind.'That wonderful boy of ours is the finest-looking fellow in the Southto-day, Miss Mitty,' I burst out, 'and he stands six feet two in hisstockings.' 'Ah, General,' she replied sadly, 'what are six feet twoinches without a grandfather?'"

  He threw back his head with a roar, appearing a trifle chagrined thenext instant by my faint-hearted pretence of mirth.

  "Doesn't it tickle you, Ben?" he enquired, checking his laughter.

  "I'm afraid it makes me rather angry, General," I answered.

  "Oh, well, I didn't think you'd take it seriously. It's just a joke, youknow. Go ahead and make your fortune, and they'll receive you quickenough."

  "But they have received me. They asked me to their party."

  "That was Sally, my boy--it was her party, and she fought the ladies foryou. That girl's a born fighter, and I reckon she gets it from HarryMickleborough--for the only blessed thing he could do was to fight. Hewas a mighty poor man, was Harry, but a God Almighty soldier--and hesent more Yankees to glory than any single man in the whole South. Thegirl gets it from him, and she hasn't any of her aunts' aristocraticnonsense in her either. She told Miss Mitty, on the spot, and I can seeher eyes shine now, that she liked you and she meant to know you."

  "That she meant to know me," I repeated, with a singing heart.

  "The ladies were put out, I could see, but they ain't a match for thatscamp Harry, and he's in her. There never lived the general that couldcommand him, and he'd have been shot for insubordination in '63 if hehadn't been as good as a whole company to the army. 'I'll fight for theSouth and welcome,' he used to say, 'but, by God, sir, I'll fight as Idamn please.' 'Twas the same way about the church, too. Old Dr. Petersongot after him once about standing, instead of kneeling, during prayers,and 'I'll pray as I damn please, sir!' responded Harry. Oh, he was a sadscamp!"

  "So his daughter fought for me?" I said. "How did it end?"

  "It will end all right when you are president of the Great South Midlandand Atlantic Railroad, and have shipped me to Kingdom Come. They won'tshut their doors in your face, then."

  "But she stood up for me?" I asked, and my voice trembled.

  "She? Do you mean Miss Matoaca? Well, she granted your good looks andyour virtues, but she regretted that they couldn't ask you to theirhouse."

  "And Miss Mitty?"

  "Oh, Miss Mitty assured me that six feet two were as an inch in hersight, without a grandfather."

  "But her niece--Miss Mickleborough?" I had worked delicately up to mypoint.

  "The girl fought for you--but then she's obliged to fight forsomething?--it's Harry in her. That's why, as I said to George atbreakfast, I don't want him to marry her. She's a good girl, and I likeher, but who in the deuce wants to marry a fighting wife? Look at thatfellow mauling his horse, Ben. It makes me sick to see 'em do it, butit's no business of mine, I reckon."

  "It is of mine, General," I replied, for the sight of an ill-treatedanimal had made my blood boil since childhood. Before he could answer, Ihad jumped over the moving wheel, and had reached the miserable,sore-backed horse struggling under a load of coal and a big stick.

  "Come off and put your shoulder to the wheel, you drunken brute," Isaid, as my rage rose in my throat.

  "I'll be damned if I will," replied the fellow, and he was about tobegin belabouring again, when I seized him by the collar and swung himclear to the street.

  "I'll be damned if you don't," I retorted.

  I was a strong man, and when my passions were roused, the thought of myown strength slipped from consciousness.

  "You'll break his bones, Ben," said the General, leaning out of hisbuggy, but his eyes shone as they might have shone at the sight of hisfirst battle.

  "I hope I shall," I responded grimly, and going over to the wagon I putmy shoulder to the wheel, and began the ascent of the steep hill.Somebody on the pavement came to my help on the other side, and we wentup slowly, with a half-drunken driver reeling at our sides and theGeneral following, in his buggy, a short way behind.

  "I thought you were a diffident fellow, Ben," remarked the great man, asI took my seat again by his side; "but I don't believe there's anotherman in Richmond that would make such a spectacle of himself."

  "I forget myself when I'm worked up," I answered, "and I forget thatanybody is looking."

  "Well, somebody was," he replied slyly. "You didn't see Miss MatoacaBland pass you in a carriage as you were pushing that wheel?"

  "No, I didn't see anybody."

  "She saw you--and so did Sally Mickleborough. Why, I'd have givensomething pretty in my day to make a girl's eyes blaze like that."

  A week later I swallowed my pride, with an effort, and called at the oldgrey house at the hour of sunset. Selim, stepping softly, conducted meinto the dimly lighted drawing-room, where a cedar log burned, with adelicious fragrance, on a pair of high brass andirons. The red glow,half light, half shadow, flickered over the quaint tapestried furniture,the white-painted woodwork, and the portraits of departed Blands andFairfaxes that smiled gravely down, with averted eyes. In a massive giltframe over a rosewood spinet there was a picture of Miss Mitty and MissMataoca, painted in fancy dress, with clasped hands, under a garland ofroses. My gaze was upon it, when the sound of a door opening quicklysomewhere in the rear came to my ears; and the next instant I heard MissMitty's prim tones saying distinctly:--

  "Tell Mr. Starr, Selim, that the ladies are not receiving."

  There was a moment's silence, followed by a voice that brought mydelighted heart with a bound into my throat.

  "Aunt Mitty, I _will_ see him."

  "Sally, how can you receive a man who was not born a gentl
eman?"

  "Aunt Mitty, if you don't let me see him here, I'll--I'll meet him inthe street."

  The door shut sharply, there was a sound of rapid steps, and the voicesceased. Harry Mickleborough, in his daughter, I judged, had gained thevictory; for an instant afterwards I heard her cross the hall, with adefiant and energetic rustle of skirts. When she entered the room, andheld out her hand, I saw that she was dressed in her walking gown. Therewere soft brown furs about her throat, and on her head she wore a smallfur hat, with a bunch of violets at one side, under a thin white veil.

  "I was just going to walk," she said, breathing a little quickly, whileher eyes, very wide and bright, held that puzzled and resolute look Iremembered; "will you come with me?"

  She turned at once to the door, as if eager to leave the house, andwhile I followed her through the hall, and down the short flight ofsteps to the pavement, I was conscious of a sharp presentiment that Ishould never again cross that threshold.