the conflict-第4章

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‘‘But　they　lost　their　bread…winner；　father；''　pleaded　the　girl。　　‘‘And　there　were　young　children　to　bring　up　and　educate。　　Oh；　I　hate　to　think　thatthat　we　had　anything　to　do　with　such　a　wrong。''

‘‘It　wasn't　a　wrong；　Jenas　I　used　to　tell　your　ma；''　said　the　old　man；　much　agitated　and　shrill　of　voice。　　‘‘It　was　just　the　course　of　business。　　The　law　was　with　our　company。''

Jane　said　nothing。　　She　simply　gazed　steadily　at　her　father。　　He　avoided　her　glance。

‘‘I　don't　want　to　hear　no　more　about　it；''　he　burst　out　with　abrupt　violence。　　‘‘Not　another　word！''

‘‘Father；　I　want　it　settledand　settled　right；''　said　the　girl。　　‘‘I　ask　it　as　a　favor。　　Don't　do　it　as　a　matter　of　business；　but　as　a　matter　of　sentiment。''

He　shifted　uneasily；　debating。　　When　he　spoke　he　was　even　more　explosive　than　before。　　‘‘Not　a　cent！　　Not　a　red！　　Give　that　whelp　money　to　run　his　crazy　paper　on？　　Not　your　father；　while　he　keeps　his　mind。''

‘‘Butmightn't　that　quiet　him？''　pleaded　she。　　‘‘What's　the　use　of　having　war　when　you　can　have　peace？　　You've　always　laughed　at　people　who　let　their　prejudices　stand　in　the　way　of　their　interests。　　You've　always　laughed　at　how　silly　and　stupid　and　costly　enmities　and　revenges　are。　　Now's　your　chance　to　illustrate；　popsy。''　　And　she　smiled　charmingly　at　him。

He　was　greatly　softened　by　her　mannerand　by　the　wisdom　of　what　she　saida　wisdom　in　which；　as　in　a　mirror；　he　recognized　with　pleasure　her　strong　resemblance　to　himself。　　‘‘That　wouldn't　be　a　bad　idea；　Jen；''　said　he　after　reflection；　‘‘IF　I　could　get　a　guarantee。''

‘‘But　why　not　do　it　generously？''　urged　the　girl。　　‘‘Generosity　inspires　generosity。　　You'll　make　him　ashamed　of　himself。''

With　a　cynical　smile　on　his　shrivelled　face　the　old　man　slowly　shook　his　big　head　that　made　him　look　as　top…heavy　as　a　newborn　baby。　　‘‘That　isn't　as　smart；　child；　as　what　you　said　before。　　It's　in　them　things　that　the　difference　between　theory　and　practice　shows。　　He'd　take　the　money　and　laugh　at　me。　　No；　I'll　try　to　get　a　guarantee。''　　He　nodded　and　chuckled。　　‘‘Yes；　that　was　a　good　idea　of　yours；　Jen。''

‘‘Butisn't　it　just　possible　that　he　is　a　man　with　with　principles　of　a　certain　kind？''　suggested　she。

‘‘Of　course；　he　THINKS　so；''　said　Hastings。　　‘‘They　all　do。　　But　you　don't　suppose　a　man　of　any　sense　at　all　could　really　care　about　and　respect　working　class　people？ignorant；　ungrateful　fools。　　_I_　know　'em。　　Didn't　I　come　from　among　'em？　　Ain't　I　dealt　with　'em　all　my　life？　　No；　that　there　guy　Dorn's　simply　trying　to　get　up；　and　is　using　them　to　step　up　on。　　I　did　the　same　thing；　only　I　did　it　in　a　decent；　law…abiding　way。　　I　didn't　want　to　tear　down　those　that　was　up。　　I　wanted　to　go　up　and　join　'em。　　And　I　did。''

And　his　eyes　glistened　fondly　and　proudly　as　he　gazed　at　his　daughter。　　She　represented　the　climax　of　his　risingshe；　the　lady　born　and　bred；　in　her　beautiful　clothes；　with　her　lovely；　delicate　charms。　　Yes；　he　had　indeed　‘‘come　up；''　and　there　before　him　was　the　superb　tangible　evidence　of　it。

Jane　had　the　strongest　belief　in　her　father's　worldly　wisdom。　　At　the　same　time；　from　what　David　Hull　said　she　had　got　an　impression　of　a　something　different　from　the　ordinary　human　being　in　this　queer　Victor　Dorn。　　‘‘You'd　better　move　slowly；''　she　said　to　her　father。　　‘‘There's　no　hurry；　and　you　might　be　mistaken　in　him。''

‘‘Plenty　of　time；''　asserted　her　father。　　‘‘There's　never　any　need　to　hurry　about　giving　up　money。''　　Then；　with　one　of　those　uncanny　flashes　of　intuition　for　which　he；　who　was　never　caught　napping；　was　famous；　he　said　to　her　sharply：　　‘‘You　keep　your　hands　off；　miss。''

She　was　thrown　into　confusionand　her　embarrassment　enraged　her　against　herself。　　‘‘What　could　_I_　do？''　she　retorted　with　a　brave　attempt　at　indifference。

‘‘Wellkeep　your　hands　off；　miss；''　said　the　old　man。　　‘‘No　female　meddling　in　business。　　I'll　stand　for　most　anything；　but　not　for　that。''

Jane　was　now　all　eagerness　for　dropping　the　subject。　　She　wished　no　further　prying　of　that　shrewd　mind　into　her　secret　thoughts。　　‘‘It's　hardly　likely　I'd　meddle　where　I　know　nothing　about　the　circumstances；''　said　she。　　‘‘Will　you　drive　me　down　to　Martha's？''

This　request　was　made　solely　to　change　the　subject；　to　shift　her　father　to　his　favorite　topic　for　family　conversationhis　daughter　Martha；　Mrs。　Hugo　Galland；　her　weakness　for　fashionable　pastimes；　her　incessant　hints　and　naggings　at　her　father　about　his　dowdy　dress；　his　vulgar　mannerisms　of　speech　and　of　conduct；　especially　at　table。　　Jane　had　not　the　remotest　intention　of　letting　her　father　drive　her　to　Mrs。　Galland's；　or　anywhere；　in　the　melancholy　old　phaeton…buggy；　behind　the　fat　old　nag　whose　coat　was　as　shabby　as　the　coat　of　the　master　or　as　the　top　and　the　side　curtains　of　the　sorrowful　vehicle　it　drew　along　at　caterpillar　pace。

When　her　father　was　ready　to　depart　for　his　office　in　the　Hastings　Blockthe　most　imposing　office　building　in　Remsen　City；　Jane　announced　a　change　of　mind。

‘‘I'll　ride；　instead；''　said　she。　　‘‘I　need　the　exercise；　and　the　day　isn't　too　warm。''

‘‘All　right；''　said　Martin　Hastings　grumpily。　　He　soon　got　enough　of　anyone's　company；　even　of　his　favorite　daughter's。　　Through　years　of　habit　he　liked　to　jog　about　alone；　revolving　in　his　mind　his　business　affairscounting　in　fancy　his　big　bundles　of　securities；　one　by　one；　calculating　their　returns　past；　present　and　prospectivereviewing　the　various　enterprises　in　which　he　was　dominant　factor；　working　out　schemes　for　getting　more　profit　here；　for　paying　less　wages　there；　for　tightening　his　grip　upon　this　enterprise；　for　dumping　his　associates　in　that；　for　escaping　with　all　the　valuable　assets　from　another。　　His　appearance；　as　he　and　his　nag　dozed　along　the　highroad；　was　as　deceptive　as　that　of　a　hive　of　bees　on　a　hot　dayno　signs　of　life　except　a　few　sleepy　workers　crawling　languidly　in　and　out　at　the　low；　broad　crack…door；　yet　within　myriads　toiling　like　mad。

Jane　went　up　to　dress。　　She　had　brought　an　Italian　maid　with　her　from　Florence；　and　a　mass　of　baggage　that　had　given　the　station　loungers　at　Remsen　City　something　to　talk　about；　when　there　was　a　dearth　of　new　subjects；　for　the　rest　of　their　lives。　　She　had　transformed　her　own　suite　in　the　second　story　of　the　big　old　house　into　an　appearance　of　the　quarters　of　a　twentieth　century　woman　of　wealth　and　leisure。　　In　the　sitting　room　were　books　in　four　languages；　on　the　walls　were　tasteful　reproductions　of　her　favorite　old　masters。　　The　excellence　of　her　education　was　attested　not　by　the　books　and　pictures　but　by　the　absence　of　those　fussy；　commonplace　draperies　and　bits　of　bric…a…brac　where　with　people　of　no　taste　and　no　imagination　furnish　their　houses　because　they　can　think　of　nothing　else　to　fill　in　the　gaps。

Many　of　Jane's　ways　made　Sister　Martha　uneasy。　　For　Martha；　while　admitting　that　Jane　through　superior　opportunity　ought　to　know；　could　not　believe　that　the　‘‘right　sort''　of　people　on　the　other　side　had　thrown　over　all　her　beloved　formalities　and　were　conducting　themselves　distressingly　like　tenement…house　people。　　For　instance；　Martha　could　not　approve　Jane's　habit　of　smoking　cigarettesa　habit　which；　by　one　of　those　curious　freaks　of　character；　enormously　pleased　her　father。　　Butexcept　in　one　matterMartha　entirely　approved　Jane's　style　of　dress。　　She　hastened　to　pronounce　it　‘‘just　too　elegant''　and　repeated　that　phrase　until　Jane；　tried　beyond　endurance；　warned　her　that　the　word　elegant　was　not　used　seriously　by　people　of　the　‘‘right　sort''　and　that　its　use　was　regarded　as　one　of　those　small　but　subtle　signs　of　the　loathsome　‘‘middle　class。''

The　one　thing　in　Jane's　dress　that　Martha　disapproved　or；　rather；　shied　atwas　her　riding　suit。　　This　was　an　extremely　noisy　plaid　man's　suitfor　Jane　rode　astride。　　Martha　could　not　deny　that　Jane　looked　‘‘simply　stunning''　when　seated　on　her　horse　and　dressed　in　that　garb　with　her　long　slim　feet　and　graceful　calves　encased　in　a　pair　of　riding　boots　that　looked　as　if　they　must　have　cost　‘‘something　fierce。''　　But　was　it　really　‘‘ladylike''？　　Hadn't　Jane　made　a　mistake　and　adopted　a　costume　worn　only　by　the　fashionables　among　the　demi…mondaines　of　whom　Martha　had　read　and　had　heard　such　dreadful；　delightful　stories？

It　was　the　lively　plaid　that　Miss　Hastings　now　clad　herself　in。　　She　loved　that　suit。　　Not　only　did　it　give　her　figure　a　superb　opportunity　but　also　it　brought　out　new　beauties　in　her　contour　and　coloring。　　And　her　head　was　so　well　shaped　and　her　hair　grew　so　thickly　about　brow　and　ears　and　nape　of　neck　that　it　looked　full　as　well　plaited　and　done　close　as　when　it　was　framing　her　face　and　half　concealing；　half　revealing　her　charming　ears　in　waves　of　changeable　auburn。　　After　a　lingeringand　pardonably　pleasedlook　at　herself　in　a　long　mirror；　she　descended；　mounted　and　rode　slowly　down　toward　town。

The　old　Galland　homestead　was　at　the　western　end　of　townin　a　quarter　that　had　become　almost　poor。　　But　it　was　so　dignified　and　its　grounds　were　so　extensive　that　it　suggested　a　manor　house　with　the　humble　homes　of　the　lord's　dependents　clustering　about　it　for　shelter。　　To　reach　it　Jane　had　to　ride　through　two　filthy　streets　lined　with　factories。　　As　she　rode　she　glanced　at　the　windows；　where　could　be　seen　in　dusty　air　girls　and　boys　busy　at　furiously　driven　machines　machines　that　compelled　their　human　slaves　to　strain　every　nerve　in　the　monotonous　task　of　keeping　them　occupied。　　Many　of　the　girls　and　boys　paused　long　enough　for　a　glance　at　the　figure　of　the　man…clad　girl　on　the　big　horse。

Jane；　happy　in　the　pleasant　sunshine；　in　her　beauty　and　health　and　fine　raiment　and　secure　and　luxurious　position　in　the　world；　gave　a　thought　of　pity　to　these　imprisoned　young　people。　　‘‘How　lucky　I　am；''　she　thought；　‘‘not　to　have　been　born　like　that。　　Of　course；　we　all　have　our　falls　now　and　then。　　But　while　they　always　strike　on　the　hard　ground；　I've　got　a　feather　bed　to　fall　on。''

When　she　reached　Martha's　and　was　ushered　into　the　cool　upstairs　sitting　room；　in　somehow　ghastly　contrast　to　the　hot　rooms　where　the　young　working　people　sweated　and　strained；　the　subject　persisted　in　its　hold　on　her　thoughts。　　There　was　Martha；　in　comfortable；　corsetless　expansivenessan　ideal　illustration　of　the　worthless　idler　fattening　in　purposelessness。　　She　was　engaged　with　all　her　energies　in　preparing　for　the　ball　Hugo　Galland's　sister；　Mrs。　Bertrand；　was　giving　at　the　assembly　rooms　that　night。

‘‘I've　been　hard　at　it　for　several　days　now；''　said　she。　　‘‘I　think　at　last　I　see　daylight。　　But　I　want　your　opinion。''

Jane　gazed　absently　at　the　dress　and　accompanying　articles　that　had　been　assembled　with　so　much　labor。　　‘‘All　right；''　said　she。　　‘‘You'll　look　fine　and　dandy。''

Martha　twitched。　　‘‘Jane；　deardon't　say　that　don't　use　such　an　expression。　　I　know　it's　your　way　of　joking。　　But　lots　of　people　would　think　you　didn't　know　any　better。''

‘‘Let　'em　think；''　said　Jane。　　‘‘I　say　and　do　as　I　please。''

Martha　sighed。　　Here　was　one　member　of　her　family　who　could　be　a　credit；　who　could　make　people　forget　the　unquestionably　common　origin　of　the　Hastingses　and　of　the　Morleys。　　Yet　this　member　was　always　breaking　out　into　something　mortifying；　something　reminiscent　of　the　farm　and　of　the　livery　stablefor　the　deceased　Mrs。　Hastings　had