MILLY
All Hal's days now seemed filled with Pierce. Pierce's friends,dependents, employees, associates wrote in, denouncing the "Clarion,"canceling subscriptions, withdrawing advertisements. Pierce's club, theHuron, compelled the abandonment of Mr. Harrington Surtaine's candidacy.Pierce's clergyman bewailed the low and vindictive tone of modernjournalism. The Pierce newspapers kept harassing the "Clarion"; thePierce banks evinced their financial disapproval; the Pierce lawyersdiligently sought new causes of offense against the foe; while Pierce'smayor persecuted the newspaper office with further petty enforcementsand exactions. Pierce's daughter, however, fled the town. With her wentMiss Esm?Elliot. According to the society columns, including that ofthe "Clarion," they were bound for a restful voyage on the Pierce yacht.
From time to time Editor Surtaine retaliated upon the foe, employing thenews of the slow progress of Miss Cleary, the nurse, to maintaininterest in the topic. Protests invariably followed, sometimes fromsources which puzzled the "Clarion." One of the protestants was HughMerritt, the young health officer of the city, who expressed his viewsto McGuire Ellis one day.
"No," Ellis reported to his employer, on the interview, "he didn'texactly ask that we let up entirely. But he seemed to think we weregoing too strong. I couldn't quite get his reasons, except that hethought it was a terrible thing for the Pierce girl, and she so young.Queer thing from Merritt. They don't make 'em any straighter than heis."
Alone of the lot of protests, that of Mrs. Festus Willard gained aresponse from Hal.
"You're treating her very harshly, Hal."
"We're giving the facts, Lady Jinny."
"Are they the facts? All the facts?"
"So far as human eyes could see them."
"Men's eyes don't see very far where a woman is concerned. She's veryyoung and headstrong, and, Hal, she hasn't had much chance, you know.She's Elias Pierce's daughter."
"Thus having every chance, one would suppose."
"Every chance of having everything. Very little chance of beinganything."
There was a pause. Then: "Very well, Hal, I know I can trust you to dowhat you believe right, at least. That's a good deal. Festus tells me tolet you alone. He says that you must fight your own fight in your ownway. That's the whole principle of salvation in Festus's creed."
"Not a bad one," said Hal. "I'm not particularly liking to do this, youknow, Lady Jinny."
"So I can understand. Have you heard anything from Esm?Elliot since sheleft?"
"No."
"You mustn't drop out of the set, Hal," said the little woman anxiously."You've made good so quickly. And our crowd doesn't take up with thefirst comer, you know."
Since Esm?Elliot had passed out of his life, as he told himself, Halfound no incentive to social amusements. Hence he scarcely noticed aslow but widening ostracism which shut him out from house after house,under the pressure of the Pierce influence. But Mrs. Festus Willard hadperceived and resented it. That any one for whom she had stood sponsorshould fail socially in Worthington was both irritating and incredibleto her. Hence she made more of Hal than she might otherwise have foundtime to do, and he was much with her and Festus Willard, deriving, onthe one hand, recreation and amusement from her sparklingcamaraderie, and on the other, support and encouragement from herhusband's strong, outspoken, and ruggedly honest common sense. Neitherof them fully approved of his attack on Kathleen Pierce, whom theyunderstood better than he did. But they both--and more particularlyFestus Willard--appreciated the courage and honor of the "Clarion's" newstandards.
Except for an occasional dinner at their house, and a more frequent hourlate in the afternoon or early in the evening, with one or both of them,Hal saw almost nothing of the people into whose social environment hehad so readily slipped. Because of his exclusion, there prospered themore naturally a casual but swiftly developing intimacy which had sprungup between himself and Milly Neal.
It began with her coming to Hal for his counsel about her copy. From thefirst she assumed an attitude of unquestioning confidence in his wisdomand taste. This flattered the pedagogue which is inherent in all of us.He was wise enough to see promptly that he must be delicately careful inhis criticism, since here he was dealing out not opinion, but gospel.Poised and self-confident the girl was in her attitude toward herself:the natural consequence of early success and responsibility. But abouther writing she exhibited an almost morbid timidity lest it be thought"vulgar" or "common" by the editor-in-chief; and once McGuire Ellis feltcalled upon to warn Hal that he was "taking all the gimp out of the'Kitty the Cutie' stuff by trying to sewing-circularize it." Ofliterature the girl knew scarcely anything; but she had an eagerambition for better standards, and one day asked Hal to advise her inher reading.
Not without misgivings he tried her with Stevenson's "VirginibusPuerisque" and was delighted with the swiftness and eagerness of herappreciation. Then he introduced her by careful selection to the poets,beginning with Tennyson, through Wordsworth, to Browning, and thence tothe golden-voiced singers of the sonnet, and all of it she drank in witha wistful and wondering delight. Soon her visits came to be of almostdaily occurrence. She would dart in of an evening, to claim or return abook, and sit perched on the corner of the big work-table, like alittle, flashing, friendly bird; always exquisitely neat, always vividlypretty and vividly alive. Sometimes the talk wandered from the status ofinstructor and instructed, and touched upon the progress of the"Clarion," the view which Milly's little world took of it, possible waysof making it more interesting to the women readers to whom the "Cutie"column was supposed to cater particularly. More than once the morepersonal note was touched, and the girl spoke of her coming to theCertina factory, a raw slip of a country creature tied up in calico, andof Dr. Surtaine's kindness and watchfulness over her.
"He wanted to do well by me because of the old man--my father, I mean,"she caught herself up, blushing. "They knew each other when I was akid."
"Where?" asked Hal.
"Oh, out east of here," she answered evasively.
Again she said to him once, "What I like about the 'Clarion' is thatit's trying to do something for folks. That's all the religion I couldever get into my head: that human beings are mostly worth treatingdecently. That counts for more than all your laws and rules and churchregulations. I don't like rules much," she added, twinkling up at him."I always want to kick 'em over, just as I always want to break throughthe police lines at a fire."
"But rules and police lines are necessary for keeping life orderly,"said Hal.
"I suppose so. But I don't know that I like things too orderly. Myteacher called me a lawless little demon, once, and I guess I still am.Suppose I should break all the rules of the office? Would you fire me?"And before he could answer she was up and had flashed away.
As the intimacy grew, Hal found himself looking forward to theseswift-winged little visits. They made a welcome break in the detaileddrudgery; added to the day a glint of color, bright like the ripple ofhalf-hidden flame that crowned Milly's head. Once Veltman, intruding ontheir talk, had glared blackly and, withdrawing, had waited for the girlin the hallway outside from whence, as she left, Hal could hear theforeman's deep voice in anger and her clear replies tauntinglystimulating his chagrin.
Having neglected the Willards for several days, Hal received a telephonemessage, about a month after Esm?Elliot's departure, asking him to stopin. He found Mrs. Willard waiting him in the conservatory. His oldfriend looked up as he entered, with a smile which did not hide thetrouble in her eyes.
"Aren't you a lily-of-the-field!" admired the visitor, contemplating hergreen and white costume.
"It's the Vanes' dance. Not going?"
"Not asked. Besides, I'm a workingman these days."
"So one might infer from your neglect of your friends. Hal, I've had aletter from Esm?Elliot."
"Any message?" he asked lightly, but with startled blood.
There was no answering lightness in her tones. "Yes. One I hate to give.Hal, she's engaged herself to Will Douglas. It must have been by letter,for she wasn't engaged when she left. 'Tell Hal Surtaine' she says inher letter to me."
"Thank you, Lady Jinny," said Hal.
The diminutive lady looked at him and then looked away, and suddenly arighteous flush rose on her cheeks.
"I'm fond of Esm?" she declared. "One can't help but be. She compelsit. But where men are concerned she seems to have no sense of her powerto hurt. I could kill her for making me her messenger. Hal, boy," sherose, slipping an arm through his caressingly, "I do hope you're notbadly hurt."
"I'll get over it, Lady Jinny. There's the job, you know."
He started for the office. Then, abruptly, as he went, "the job" seemedpurposeless. Unrealized, hope had still persisted in his heart--the hopethat, by some possible turn of circumstance, the shattered ideal of Esm?Elliot would be revivified. The blighting of his love for her had beenno more bitter, perhaps less so, than the realization which she hadcompelled in him of her lightness and unworthiness. Still, he had wantedher, longed for her, hoped for her. Now that hope was gone. There seemednothing left to work for, no adequate good beyond the striving. Helooked with dulled vision out upon blank days. With a sudden weakeningof fiber he turned into a hotel and telephoned McGuire Ellis that hewouldn't be at the office that evening. To the other's anxious query washe ill, he replied that he was tired out and was going home to bed.
Meantime, far across the map at a famous Florida hostelry, the GreatAmerican Pumess, in the first flush and pride of her engagement whichall commentators agree upon as characteristic of maidenhood's vitalresolution, lay curled up in a little fluffy coil of misery and tears,repeating between sobs, "I hate him! I hate him!" Meaning herfianc? Mr. William Douglas, with whom her mind and emotions shouldproperly have been concerned? Not so, perspicacious reader. Meaning Mr.Harrington Surtaine.
Upon his small portion of the map, that gentleman wooed sleep in vainfor hours. Presently he arose from his tossed bed, dressed quietly,slipped out of the big door and walked with long, swinging steps down tothe "Clarion" Building. There it stood, a plexus of energies, in themidst of darkness and sleep. Eye-like, its windows peered vigilantly outinto the city. A door opened to emit a voice that bawled across the waysome profane demand for haste in the delivery of "that grub"; andthrough the shaft of light Hal could see brisk figures moving, and hearthe roar and thrill of the press sealing its irrevocable message.
Again he felt, with a pride so profound that its roots struck down intothe depths of humility, his own responsibility to all that straininglife and energy and endeavor. He, the small atom, alone in the night,was the "Clarion." Those men, the fighting fellowship of the office,were rushing and toiling and coordinating their powers to carry out someideal still dimly inchoate in his brain. What mattered his little pangs?There was a man's test to meet, and the man within him stretchedspiritual muscles for the trial.
"If I could only be sure what's right," he said within himself, voicingthe doubt of every high-minded adventurer upon unbeaten paths. Sharply,and, as it seemed to him, incongruously, he wondered that he had neverlearned to pray; not knowing that, in the unfinished phrase he haduttered true prayer. A chill breeze swept down upon him. Looking up intothe jeweled heavens he recalled from the far distance of memory, theprayer of a great and simple soul,--
"Make thou my spirit pure and clear As are the frosty skies."
Hal set out for home, ready now for a few hours' sleep. At a blindcorner he all but collided with a man and a woman, walking at highspeed. The woman half turned, flinging him a quick and silvery"Good-evening." It was Milly Neal. The man with her was Max Veltman.