Chapter 22

by William Dean Howells

　　"Yes, yes," said the girl; "I will. You needn't be troubled about meany more."Before she left her room she wrote a note, and when she came down shewas dressed to go out-of-doors and post it herself. The note was toCorey:--"Do not come to see me any more till you hear from me. I have a reasonwhich I cannot give you now; and you must not ask what it is."All day she went about in a buoyant desperation, and she came down tomeet her father at supper."Well, Persis," he said scornfully, as he sat down, "we might as wellsaved our good resolutions till they were wanted. I guess thoseEnglish parties have gone back on Rogers.""Do you mean he didn't come?""He hadn't come up to half-past five," said Lapham."Tchk!" uttered his wife. "But I guess I shall pull through withoutMr. Rogers," continued Lapham. "A firm that I didn't think COULDweather it is still afloat, and so far forth as the danger goes ofbeing dragged under with it, I'm all right." Penelope came in. "Hello,Pen!" cried her father. "It ain't often I meet YOU nowadays." He putup his hand as she passed his chair, and pulled her down and kissed her."No," she said; "but I thought I'd come down to-night and cheer you upa little. I shall not talk; the sight of me will be enough."Her father laughed out. "Mother been telling you? Well, I WAS prettyblue last night; but I guess I was more scared than hurt. How'd youlike to go to the theatre to-night? Sellers at the Park. Heigh?""Well, I don't know. Don't you think they could get along without methere?""No; couldn't work it at all," cried the Colonel. "Let's all go.Unless," he added inquiringly, "there's somebody coming here?""There's nobody coming," said Penelope."Good! Then we'll go. Mother, don't you be late now.""Oh, I shan't keep you waiting," said Mrs. Lapham. She had thought oftelling what a cheerful letter she had got from Irene; but upon thewhole it seemed better not to speak of Irene at all just then. Afterthey returned from the theatre, where the Colonel roared through thecomedy, with continual reference of his pleasure to Penelope, to makesure that she was enjoying it too, his wife said, as if the wholeaffair had been for the girl's distraction rather than his, "I don'tbelieve but what it's going to come out all right about the children;"and then she told him of the letter, and the hopes she had founded uponit."Well, perhaps you're right, Persis," he consented."I haven't seen Pen so much like herself since it happened. I declare,when I see the way she came out to-night, just to please you, I don'tknow as I want you should get over all your troubles right away.""I guess there'll be enough to keep Pen going for a while yet," saidthe Colonel, winding up his watch.But for a time there was a relief, which Walker noted, in theatmosphere at the office, and then came another cold wave, slighterthan the first, but distinctly felt there, and succeeded by anotherrelief. It was like the winter which was wearing on to the end of theyear, with alternations of freezing weather, and mild days stretchingto weeks, in which the snow and ice wholly disappeared. It was nonethe less winter, and none the less harassing for these fluctuations,and Lapham showed in his face and temper the effect of likefluctuations in his affairs. He grew thin and old, and both at homeand at his office he was irascible to the point of offence. In thesedays Penelope shared with her mother the burden of their troubled home,and united with her in supporting the silence or the petulance of thegloomy, secret man who replaced the presence of jolly prosperity there.Lapham had now ceased to talk of his troubles, and savagely resentedhis wife's interference. "You mind your own business, Persis," he saidone day, "if you've got any;" and after that she left him mainly toPenelope, who did not think of asking him questions."It's pretty hard on you, Pen," she said."That makes it easier for me," returned the girl, who did not otherwiserefer to her own trouble.In her heart she had wondered a little at the absolute obedience ofCorey, who had made no sign since receiving her note. She would haveliked to ask her father if Corey was sick; she would have liked him toask her why Corey did not come any more. Her mother went on--"I don't believe your father knows WHERE he stands. He works away atthose papers he brings home here at night, as if he didn't half knowwhat he was about. He always did have that close streak in him, and Idon't suppose but what he's been going into things he don't wantanybody else to know about, and he's kept these accounts of his own."Sometimes he gave Penelope figures to work at, which he would notsubmit to his wife's nimbler arithmetic. Then she went to bed and leftthem sitting up till midnight, struggling with problems in which theywere both weak. But she could see that the girl was a comfort to herfather, and that his troubles were a defence and shelter to her. Somenights she could hear them going out together, and then she lay awakefor their return from their long walk. When the hour or day of respitecame again, the home felt it first. Lapham wanted to know what thenews from Irene was; he joined his wife in all her cheerfulspeculations, and tried to make her amends for his sullen reticence andirritability. Irene was staying on at Dubuque. There came a letterfrom her, saying that her uncle's people wanted her to spend the winterthere. "Well, let her," said Lapham. "It'll be the best thing forher."Lapham himself had letters from his brother at frequent intervals. Hisbrother was watching the G. L. & P., which as yet had made no offer forthe mills. Once, when one of these letters came, he submitted to hiswife whether, in the absence of any positive information that the roadwanted the property, he might not, with a good conscience, dispose ofit to the best advantage to anybody who came along.She looked wistfully at him; it was on the rise from a season of deepdepression with him. "No, Si," she said; "I don't see how you could dothat."He did not assent and submit, as he had done at first, but began torail at the unpracticality of women; and then he shut some papers hehad been looking over into his desk, and flung out of the room.One of the papers had slipped through the crevice of the lid, and layupon the floor. Mrs. Lapham kept on at her sewing, but after a whileshe picked the paper up to lay it on the desk. Then she glanced at it,and saw that it was a long column of dates and figures, recordingsuccessive sums, never large ones, paid regularly to "Wm. M." The datescovered a year, and the sum amounted at least to several hundreds.Mrs. Lapham laid the paper down on the desk, and then she took it upagain and put it into her work-basket, meaning to give it to him. Whenhe came in she saw him looking absent-mindedly about for something, andthen going to work upon his papers, apparently without it. She thoughtshe would wait till he missed it definitely, and then give him thescrap she had picked up. It lay in her basket, and after some days itfound its way under the work in it, and she forgot it.