Part Two - SEVEN

by Willa Cather

　　One morning in April Niel was alone in the law office. His unclehad been ill with rheumatic fever for a long while, and he had beenattending to the routine of business.

　　The door opened, and a figure stood there, strange and yetfamiliar,--he had to think a moment before he realized that it wasOrville Ogden, who used to come to Sweet Water so often, but whohad not been seen there now for several years. He didn't look aday older; one eye was still direct and clear, the other cloudedand oblique. He still wore a stiff imperial and twisted moustache,the grey colour of old beeswax, and his thin hair was brushedheroically up over the bald spot.

　　"This is Judge Pommeroy's nephew, isn't it? I can't think of yourname, my boy, but I remember you. Is the Judge out?"

　　"Please be seated, Mr. Ogden. My uncle is ill. He hasn't been atthe office for several months. He's had really a very bad time ofit. Is there anything I can do for you?"

　　"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that! I'm sorry." He spoke as if he were."I guess all we fellows are getting older, whether we like it ornot. It made a great difference when Daniel Forrester went." Mr.Ogden took off his overcoat, put his hat and gloves neatly on thedesk, and then seemed somewhat at a loss. "What is your uncle'strouble?" he asked suddenly.

　　Niel told him. "I was to have gone back to school this winter, butuncle begged me to stay and look after things for him. There wasno one here he wanted to entrust his business to."

　　"I see, I see," said Mr. Ogden thoughtfully. "Then you do attendto his business for the present?" He paused and reflected. "Yes,there was something that I wanted to take up with him. I amstopping off for a few hours only, between trains. I might speakto you about it, and you could consult your uncle and write me inChicago. It's a confidential matter, and concerns another person."

　　Niel assured him of his discretion, but Mr. Ogden seemed to findthe subject difficult to approach. He looked very grave and slowlylit a cigar.

　　"It is simply," he said at last, "a rather delicate suggestion Iwish to make to your uncle about one of his clients. I haveseveral friends in the Government at Washington just at present,friends who would go out of their way to serve me. I have beenthinking that we might manage it to get a special increase ofpension for Mrs. Forrester. I am due in Chicago this week, andafter my business there is finished, I would be quite willing to goon to Washington to see what can be done; provided, of course, thatno one, least of all your uncle's client, knows of my activity inthe matter."

　　Niel flushed. "I'm sorry, Mr. Ogden," he brought out, "but Mrs.Forrester is no longer a client of my uncle's. After the Captain'sdeath, she saw fit to take her business away from him."

　　Mr. Ogden's normal eye became as blank as the other.

　　"What's that? He isn't her lawyer? Why, for twenty years--"

　　"I know that, sir. She didn't treat him with much consideration.She transferred her business very abruptly."

　　"To whom, may I ask?"

　　"To a lawyer here in town; Ivy Peters."

　　"Peters? I never heard of him."

　　"No, you wouldn't have. He wasn't one of the people who went tothe Forrester house in the old days. He's one of the youngergeneration, a few years older than I. He rented part of theForresters' land for several years before the Captain's death,--wastheir tenant. That was how Mrs. Forrester came to know him. Shethinks him a good business man."

　　Mr. Ogden frowned. "And is he?"

　　"Some people think so."

　　"Is he trustworthy?"

　　"Far from it. He takes the cases nobody else will take. He maytreat Mrs. Forrester honestly. But if he does, it will not be fromprinciple."

　　"This is very distressing news. Go on with your work, my boy. Imust think this over." Mr. Ogden rose and walked about the room,his hands behind him. Niel turned to an unfinished letter on hisdesk, in order to leave his visitor the more free.

　　Mr. Ogden's position, he understood, was a difficult one. He hadbeen devoted to Mrs. Forrester, and before Constance had made upher mind to marry Frank Ellinger, before the mother and daughterbegan to angle for him, Mr. Ogden had come to the Forresters' morefrequently than any of their Denver friends. He hadn't been back,Niel believed, since that Christmas party when he and his familywere there with Ellinger. Very soon afterward he must have seenwhat his women-folk were up to; and whether he approved ordisapproved, he must have decided that there was nothing for him todo but to keep out. It hadn't been the Forresters' reversal offortune that had kept him away. One could see that he was deeplytroubled, that he had her heavily on his mind.

　　Niel had finished his letter and was beginning another, when Mr.Ogden stopped beside his desk, where he stood twisting his imperialtighter and tighter. "You say this young lawyer is unprincipled?Sometimes rascals have a soft spot, a sentiment, where women areconcerned."

　　Niel stared. He immediately thought of Ivy's dimples.

　　"A soft spot? A sentiment? Mr. Ogden, why not go to his office?A glance would convince you."

　　"Oh, that's not necessary! I understand." He looked out of thewindow, from which he could just see the tree-tops of the Forrestergrove, and murmured, "Poor lady! So misguided. She ought to haveadvice from some of Daniel's friends." He took out his watch andconsulted it, turning something over in his mind. His train wasdue in an hour, he said. Nothing could be done at present. In afew moments he left the office.

　　Afterward, Niel felt sure that when Mr. Ogden stood thereuncertainly, watch in hand, he was considering an interview withMrs. Forrester. He had wanted to go to her, and had given it up.Was he afraid of his womenfolk? Or was it another kind ofcowardice, the fear of losing a pleasant memory, of finding herchanged and marred, a dread of something that would throw adisenchanting light upon the past? Niel had heard his uncle saythat Mr. Ogden admired pretty women, though he had married a homelyone, and that in his deep, non-committal way he was very gallant.Perhaps, with a little encouragement, he would have gone to seeMrs. Forrester, and he might have helped her. The fact that he haddone nothing to bring this about, made Niel realize how much hisown feeling toward that lady had changed.

　　It was Mrs. Forrester herself who had changed. Since her husband'sdeath she seemed to have become another woman. For years Niel andhis uncle, the Dalzells and all her friends, had thought of theCaptain as a drag upon his wife; a care that drained her and dimmedher and kept her from being all that she might be. But withouthim, she was like a ship without ballast, driven hither and thitherby every wind. She was flighty and perverse. She seemed to havelost her faculty of discrimination; her power of easily andgraciously keeping everyone in his proper place.

　　Ivy Peters had been in Wyoming at the time of Captain Forrester'sillness and death,--called away by a telegram which announced thatoil had been discovered near his land-holdings. He returned soonafter the Captain's funeral, however, and was seen about theForrester place more than ever. As there was nothing to be done onhis fields in the winter, he had amused himself by pulling down theold barn after office hours. One was likely to come upon him,smoking his cigar on the front porch as if he owned the place. Heoften spent the evening there, playing cards with Mrs. Forrester ortalking about his business projects. He had not made his fortuneyet, but he was on the way to it. Occasionally he took a friend ortwo, some of the town boys, over to dine at Mrs. Forrester's. Theboys' mothers and sweethearts were greatly scandalized. "Now she'safter the young ones," said Ed Elliott's mother. "She's gettingchildish."

　　At last Niel had a plain talk with Mrs. Forrester. He told herthat people were gossiping about Ivy's being there so much. He hadheard comments even on the street.

　　"But I can't bother about their talk. They have always talkedabout me, always will. Mr. Peters is my lawyer and my tenant; Ihave to see him, and I'm certainly not going to his office. Ican't sit in the house alone every evening and knit. If you cameto see me any oftener than you do, that would make talk. You arestill younger than Ivy,--and better-looking! Did that never occurto you?"

　　"I wish you wouldn't talk to me like that," he said coldly. "Mrs.Forrester, why don't you go away? to California, to people of yourown kind. You know this town is no place for you."

　　"I mean to, just as soon as I can sell this place. It's all Ihave, and if I leave it to tenants it will run down, and I can'tsell it to advantage. That's why Ivy is here so much, he's tryingto make the place presentable; pulling down the old barn that hadbecome an eyesore, putting new boards in the porch floor where theold ones had rotted. Next summer, I am going to paint the house.Unless I keep the place up, I can never get my price for it." Shetalked nervously, with exaggerated earnestness, as if she weretrying to persuade herself.

　　"And what are you asking for it now, Mrs. Forrester?"

　　"Twenty thousand dollars."

　　"You'll never get it. At least, not until times have greatlychanged."

　　"That's what your uncle said. He wouldn't attempt to sell it formore than twelve. That's why I had to put it into other hands.Times have changed, but he doesn't realize it. Mr. Forresterhimself told me it would be worth that. Ivy says he can get metwenty thousand, or if not, he will take it off my hands as soon ashis investments begin to bring in returns."

　　"And in the meantime, you are simply wasting your life here."

　　"Not altogether." She looked at him with pleading plausibility."I am getting rested after a long strain. And while I wait, I'mfinding new friends among the young men,--those your age, and alittle younger. I've wanted for a long while to do something forthe boys in this town, but my hands were full. I hate to see themgrowing up like savages, when all they need is a civilized house tocome to, and a woman to give them a few hints. They've never had achance. You wouldn't be the boy you are if you'd never gone toBoston,--and you've always had older friends who'd seen betterdays. Suppose you had grown up like Ed Elliott and Joe Simpson?"

　　"I flatter myself I wouldn't be exactly like them, if I had!However, there is no use discussing it, if you've thought it overand made up your mind. I spoke of it because I thought youmightn't realize how it strikes the townspeople."

　　"I know!" She tossed her head. Her eyes glittered, but there wasno mirth in them,--it was more like hysterical defiance. "I know;they call me the Merry Widow. I rather like it!"

　　Niel left the house without further argument, and though that wasthree weeks ago, he had not been back since. Mrs. Forrester hadcalled to see his uncle in the meantime. The Judge was as courtlyas ever in his manner toward her, but he was deeply hurt by herdefection, and his cherishing care for her would never be revived.He had attended to all Captain Forrester's business for twentyyears, and since the failure of the Denver bank had never deducteda penny for fees from the money entrusted to him. Mrs. Forresterhad treated him very badly. She had given him no warning. One dayIvy Peters had come into the office with a written order from her,requesting that an accounting, and all funds and securities, beturned over to him. Since then she had never spoken of the matterto the Judge,--or to Niel, save in that conversation about the saleof the property.