Chapter 21

by William Dean Howells

　　"Well, sir, if you're like me you'll carry it round all day, then. Idon't know a much meaner thing than a headache--unless it's earache, ortoothache, or some other kind of ache I'm pretty hard to suit, when itcomes to diseases. Notice how yellow the old man looked when he camein this morning? I don't like to see a man of his build lookyellow--much." About the middle of the afternoon the dust-coloured faceof Rogers, now familiar to Lapham's clerks, showed itself among them."Has Colonel Lapham returned yet?" he asked, in his dry, wooden tones,of Lapham's boy."Yes, he's in his office," said the boy; and as Rogers advanced, herose and added, "I don't know as you can see him to-day. His orders arenot to let anybody in.""Oh, indeed!" said Rogers; "I think he will see ME!" and he pressedforward."Well, I'll have to ask," returned the boy; and hastily precedingRogers, he put his head in at Lapham's door, and then withdrew it."Please to sit down," he said; "he'll see you pretty soon;" and, withan air of some surprise, Rogers obeyed. His sere, dull-brown whiskersand the moustache closing over both lips were incongruously andillogically clerical in effect, and the effect was heightened for noreason by the parchment texture of his skin; the baldness extending tothe crown of his head was like a baldness made up for the stage. Whathis face expressed chiefly was a bland and beneficent caution. Here,you must have said to yourself, is a man of just, sober, and prudentviews, fixed purposes, and the good citizenship that avoids debt andhazard of every kind."What do you want?" asked Lapham, wheeling round in his swivel-chair asRogers entered his room, and pushing the door shut with his foot,without rising.Rogers took the chair that was not offered him, and sat with hishat-brim on his knees, and its crown pointed towards Lapham. "I wantto know what you are going to do," he answered with sufficientself-possession."I'll tell you, first, what I've done," said Lapham. "I've been toDubuque, and I've found out all about that milling property you turnedin on me. Did you know that the G. L. & P. had leased the P. Y. & X.?""I some suspected that it might.""Did you know it when you turned the property in on me? Did you knowthat the G. L. & P. wanted to buy the mills?""I presumed the road would give a fair price for them," said Rogers,winking his eyes in outward expression of inwardly blinking the point."You lie," said Lapham, as quietly as if correcting him in a slighterror; and Rogers took the word with equal sang froid. "You knew theroad wouldn't give a fair price for the mills. You knew it would givewhat it chose, and that I couldn't help myself, when you let me takethem. You're a thief, Milton K. Rogers, and you stole money I lentyou." Rogers sat listening, as if respectfully considering thestatements. "You knew how I felt about that old matter--or my wifedid; and that I wanted to make it up to you, if you felt anyway badlyused. And you took advantage of it. You've got money out of me, inthe first place, on securities that wa'n't worth thirty-five cents onthe dollar, and you've let me in for this thing, and that thing, andyou've bled me every time. And all I've got to show for it is amilling property on a line of road that can squeeze me, whenever itwants to, as dry as it pleases. And you want to know what I'm going todo? I'm going to squeeze YOU. I'm going to sell these collaterals ofyours,"--he touched a bundle of papers among others that littered hisdesk,--"and I'm going to let the mills go for what they'll fetch. Iain't going to fight the G. L. & P."Lapham wheeled about in his chair and turned his burly back on hisvisitor, who sat wholly unmoved."There are some parties," he began, with a dry tranquillity ignoringLapham's words, as if they had been an outburst against some thirdperson, who probably merited them, but in whom he was so littleinterested that he had been obliged to use patience in listening to hiscondemnation,--"there are some English parties who have been makinginquiries in regard to those mills.""I guess you're lying, Rogers," said Lapham, without looking round."Well, all that I have to ask is that you will not act hastily.""I see you don't think I'm in earnest!" cried Lapham, facing fiercelyabout. "You think I'm fooling, do you?" He struck his bell, and"William," he ordered the boy who answered it, and who stood waitingwhile he dashed off a note to the brokers and enclosed it with thebundle of securities in a large envelope, "take these down to Gallop &Paddock's, in State Street, right away. Now go!" he said to Rogers,when the boy had closed the door after him; and he turned once more tohis desk.Rogers rose from his chair, and stood with his hat in his hand. He wasnot merely dispassionate in his attitude and expression, he wasimpartial. He wore the air of a man who was ready to return tobusiness whenever the wayward mood of his interlocutor permitted."Then I understand," he said, "that you will take no action in regardto the mills till I have seen the parties I speak of."Lapham faced about once more, and sat looking up into the visage ofRogers in silence. "I wonder what you're up to," he said at last; "Ishould like to know." But as Rogers made no sign of gratifying hiscuriosity, and treated this last remark of Lapham's as of theirrelevance of all the rest, he said, frowning, "You bring me a partythat will give me enough for those mills to clear me of you, and I'lltalk to you. But don't you come here with any man of straw. And I'llgive you just twenty-four hours to prove yourself a swindler again."Once more Lapham turned his back, and Rogers, after lookingthoughtfully into his hat a moment, cleared his throat, and quietlywithdrew, maintaining to the last his unprejudiced demeanour.Lapham was not again heard from, as Walker phrased it, during theafternoon, except when the last mail was taken in to him; then thesound of rending envelopes, mixed with that of what seemed suppressedswearing, penetrated to the outer office. Somewhat earlier than theusual hour for closing, he appeared there with his hat on and hisovercoat buttoned about him. He said briefly to his boy, "William, Ishan't be back again this afternoon," and then went to Miss Dewey andleft a number of letters on her table to be copied, and went out.Nothing had been said, but a sense of trouble subtly diffused itselfthrough those who saw him go out.That evening as he sat down with his wife alone at tea, he asked,"Ain't Pen coming to supper?""No, she ain't," said his wife. "I don't know as I like the way she'sgoing on, any too well. I'm afraid, if she keeps on, she'll be downsick. She's got deeper feelings than Irene."Lapham said nothing, but having helped himself to the abundance of histable in his usual fashion, he sat and looked at his plate with anindifference that did not escape the notice of his wife. "What's thematter with YOU?" she asked."Nothing. I haven't got any appetite.""What's the matter?" she persisted."Trouble's the matter; bad luck and lots of it's the matter," saidLapham. "I haven't ever hid anything from you, Persis, well you askedme, and it's too late to begin now. I'm in a fix. I'll tell you whatkind of a fix, if you think it'll do you any good; but I guess you'llbe satisfied to know that it's a fix.""How much of a one?" she asked with a look of grave, steady courage inher eyes."Well, I don't know as I can tell, just yet," said Lapham, avoidingthis look. "Things have been dull all the fall, but I thought they'dbrisk up come winter. They haven't. There have been a lot offailures, and some of 'em owed me, and some of 'em had me on theirpaper; and----" Lapham stopped."And what?" prompted his wife.He hesitated before he added, "And then--Rogers.""I'm to blame for that," said Mrs. Lapham. "I forced you to it.""No; I was as willing to go into it as what you were," answered Lapham."I don't want to blame anybody."Mrs. Lapham had a woman's passion for fixing responsibility; she couldnot help saying, as soon as acquitted, "I warned you against him,Silas. I told you not to let him get in any deeper with you.""Oh yes. I had to help him to try to get my money back. I might aswell poured water into a sieve. And now--" Lapham stopped."Don't be afraid to speak out to me, Silas Lapham. If it comes to theworst, I want to know it--I've got to know it. What did I ever carefor the money? I've had a happy home with you ever since we weremarried, and I guess I shall have as long as you live, whether we go onto the Back Bay, or go back to the old house at Lapham. I know who'sto blame, and I blame myself. It was my forcing Rogers on to you." Shecame back to this with her helpless longing, inbred in all Puritansouls, to have some one specifically suffer for the evil in the world,even if it must be herself."It hasn't come to the worst yet, Persis," said her husband. "But Ishall have to hold up on the new house a little while, till I can seewhere I am.""I shouldn't care if we had to sell it," cried his wife, in passionateself-condemnation. "I should be GLAD if we had to, as far as I'mconcerned.""I shouldn't," said Lapham."I know!" said his wife; and she remembered ruefully how his heart wasset on it.He sat musing. "Well, I guess it's going to come out all right in theend. Or, if it ain't," he sighed, "we can't help it. May be Penneedn't worry so much about Corey, after all," he continued, with abitter irony new to him. "It's an ill wind that blows nobody good.And there's a chance," he ended, with a still bitterer laugh, "thatRogers will come to time, after all.""I don't believe it!" exclaimed Mrs. Lapham, with a gleam of hope inher eyes. "What chance?""One in ten million," said Lapham; and her face fell again. "He saysthere are some English parties after him to buy these mills.""Well?""Well, I gave him twenty-four hours to prove himself a liar.""You don't believe there are any such parties?""Not in THIS world.""But if there were?""Well, if there were, Persis----But pshaw!""No, no!" she pleaded eagerly. "It don't seem as if he COULD be such avillain. What would be the use of his pretending? If he brought theparties to you.""Well," said Lapham scornfully, "I'd let them have the mills at theprice Rogers turned 'em in on me at. I don't want to make anything on'em. But guess I shall hear from the G. L. & P. first. And when theymake their offer, I guess I'll have to accept it, whatever it is. Idon't think they'll have a great many competitors."Mrs. Lapham could not give up her hope. "If you could get your pricefrom those English parties before they knew that the G. L. & P. wantedto buy the mills, would it let you out with Rogers?""Just about," said Lapham."Then I know he'll move heaven and earth to bring it about. I KNOW youwon't be allowed to suffer for doing him a kindness, Silas. He CAN'Tbe so ungrateful! Why, why SHOULD he pretend to have any such partiesin view when he hasn't? Don't you be down-hearted, Si. You'll see thathe'll be round with them to-morrow."Lapham laughed, but she urged so many reasons for her belief in Rogersthat Lapham began to rekindle his own faith a little. He ended byasking for a hot cup of tea; and Mrs. Lapham sent the pot out and had afresh one steeped for him. After that he made a hearty supper in therevulsion from his entire despair; and they fell asleep that nighttalking hopefully of his affairs, which he laid before her fully, as heused to do when he first started in business. That brought the oldtimes back, and he said: "If this had happened then, I shouldn't havecared much. I was young then, and I wasn't afraid of anything. But Inoticed that after I passed fifty I began to get scared easier. Idon't believe I could pick up, now, from a regular knock-down.""Pshaw! YOU scared, Silas Lapham?" cried his wife proudly. "I shouldlike to see the thing that ever scared you; or the knockdown that YOUcouldn't pick up from!""Is that so, Persis?" he asked, with the joy her courage gave him.In the middle of the night she called to him, in a voice which thedarkness rendered still more deeply troubled: "Are you awake, Silas?""Yes; I'm awake.""I've been thinking about those English parties, Si----""So've I.""And I can't make it out but what you'd be just as bad as Rogers, everybit and grain, if you were to let them have the mills----""And not tell 'em what the chances were with the G. L. & P.? I thoughtof that, and you needn't be afraid."She began to bewail herself, and to sob convulsively: "O Silas! OSilas!" Heaven knows in what measure the passion of her soul was miredwith pride in her husband's honesty, relief from an apprehendedstruggle, and pity for him."Hush, hush, Persis!" he besought her. "You'll wake Pen if you keep onthat way. Don't cry any more! You mustn't.""Oh, let me cry, Silas! It'll help me. I shall be all right in aminute. Don't you mind." She sobbed herself quiet. "It does seem toohard," she said, when she could speak again, "that you have to give upthis chance when Providence had fairly raised it up for you.""I guess it wa'n't Providence raised it up," said Lapham. "Any rate,it's got to go. Most likely Rogers was lyin', and there ain't any suchparties; but if there were, they couldn't have the mills from mewithout the whole story. Don't you be troubled, Persis. I'm going topull through all right." "Oh, I ain't afraid. I don't suppose but whatthere's plenty would help you, if they knew you needed it, Si.""They would if they knew I DIDN'T need it," said Lapham sardonically."Did you tell Bill how you stood?""No, I couldn't bear to. I've been the rich one so long, that Icouldn't bring myself to own up that I was in danger.""Yes.""Besides, it didn't look so ugly till to-day. But I guess we shan't letugly looks scare us.""No."