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Silent Battle

<h2>XXVII MR. LORING REFLECTS</h2></div> Henry K. Loring sat back in his machine, homeward bound, his head deep in the collar of his overcoat, his eyes under their shaggy brows peering out of the windows of the limousine. His heavy hands, one over the other, grasped the handle of his cane, which stood upright between his firmly planted feet. He looked out of the windows at the quickly changing scene, but his eyes saw nothing. There was a frown at his brow, his lips were drawn firmly together and a casual glance might have lent to the belief that the great operator was weighted with a more than usually heavy financial burden. But a closer inspection would have shown a slight upward twist of his lips and scarcely perceptible puckering of the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. For a man whose business affairs had on that day been subjected to the searching inquisition that Mr. Gallatin had put them to, he seemed to be taking life rather good-naturedly. To tell the truth he was thinking of the futile efforts of the elder Leuppold in trying to stem the tide which had set so strongly against him. He had gone over Mr. Gallatin’s evidence at the conference point by point, and the hours had only confirmed him in the realization that this young man, whom he had scorned, had given the oily and ingenious Leuppold a very unpleasant morning; for wriggle as Leuppold might, there had been no escaping the young man’s clear-headed statements, and the dangerous[324] nature of his evidence. Henry K. Loring was a good fighter, a shrewd judge of men, and the thing that most bothered him at the present moment was, not that he had been obliged to compromise the Sanborn case, but that he should have been so mistaken in the character and abilities of Philip Gallatin. He couldn’t understand it at all, and it hurt his pride in his own judgment. Was this sharp young man with the lean face, the keen eye and the quick incisive tones of confidence in himself, was this brilliant hard-working young lawyer who had been clever enough to outwit Henry Loring at his own game, was this Phil Gallatin, the club loafer, at whose name men had wagged their heads or shrugged their shoulders in pity or contempt? It didn’t seem possible. There was a mistake somewhere. Was this the young man who——? He sat straight up suddenly as the thought came to him. By George! This was Jane’s young man! The fellow who had found Jane up in the woods! Who had followed her around and made love to her! The fellow Jane had been in love with until he, Loring, had opened her eyes and packed him out of the house about his business. That was too bad. Loring was sorry about that now. He had done Gallatin an injustice. Curious that he should have made such a mistake. He would have to rectify it somehow—with Jane. What was the trouble? Oh, yes, a woman—that was what had turned Jane against him. A woman—well? It wasn’t the first time a man had been led off by a woman. What of it? The Gallatin with whom he had recently become acquainted wasn’t the kind of a fellow who would let any woman get the best of him. That was his own affair, anyway. He, Loring, would have to talk to Jane. Gallatin was all right. He had quit drinking, too, the[325] younger Leuppold had said. Any young fellow who could work up a case like that under cover and drive a man like Henry K. Loring to the wall was good enough for him! That was the kind of a man he wanted for Jane, just the kind of man to take up the game where he would leave it and hold the great Loring interests together. What did Jane want anyhow? She had loved Phil Gallatin once. Her mother had told him so. And now she had settled on Coleman Van Duyn! Hell! He got down at his own door with a sudden resolve to find out just how things stood with Jane and Coley Van Duyn. Mrs. Loring had wanted that match. It wasn’t any of Loring’s choosing. She had wanted an old Dutch ancestry. She’d be getting it with Coley and that was about all she would get. Jane had been expected back with the Ledyards from Virginia this morning. Perhaps it wasn’t too late for her father to step into the breach and repair the damage he had done. In reply to his question of the man in the hall, he learned that Miss Loring had returned from the South during the morning, but that she had been in her room all day. Henry K. Loring climbed the marble stairs and went along the landing to Mrs. Loring’s room. He found her lying on the divan, a handkerchief crumpled in her hands, her face stained with tears. A look of resignation that was half a frown came into Loring’s face. Like many another man, big in his walks abroad, he lost some stature in the presence of a tearful wife. At his entrance she straightened and said irritably, “I thought you were never coming.” “I was detained.” He looked at his watch. “Aren’t you going to dress?” “No. I’m going to have my dinner brought up.” “What’s the matter?” [326] “Oh, what isn’t the matter? Jane, of course!” “Jane!” “I can’t make her out at all. She came back from Warrenton this morning and went immediately to her room. I went in this afternoon again. She was looking miserably unhappy, and when I began talking to her she burst into tears——” “Nerves?” he queried. “Oh, I don’t know. She hasn’t been herself for some time. She’s looking very badly.” “Yes, I noticed that. What do you think the trouble is?” Mrs. Loring sank back with a sigh. “Oh, I don’t know. I never did understand Jane, and I don’t suppose I ever shall. She says she isn’t going to anything this spring—that she wants to go abroad, away from everybody. And, finally, when I pressed her—she told me that she had given Coleman Van Duyn his congé. Think of it!” The poor lady rattled on while Loring turned his back and walked the length of the room to hide a smile which grew suddenly at his lips. When she had finished speaking, he returned and questioned again. “Why did she change her mind? Do you know?” “I don’t think she has changed her mind. I don’t believe that she has ever cared for Mr. Van Duyn. It was all a mask to hide her real feelings. I’m sure she still loves that worthless Gallatin!” Loring’s eyebrows lifted, his gaze roved and his lips were quickly compressed. Then his brows tangled. “What makes you think that?” he asked. “Everything makes me think it—everything—from the manner in which she first confessed her love for him to me to the curious way she has been treating Mr. Van[327] Duyn. He spoke about the matter only last week. Poor fellow! He’s beginning to look very badly. Jane hasn’t treated him fairly.” “That depends. They were never engaged.” Mrs. Loring raised herself on one elbow, her eyes searching her husband’s face in surprise. “There was an understanding.” “Between you and Van Duyn. Jane never consented.” “Henry, I don’t understand you. You’ve let this thing go on without speaking. You approved——” “No, I didn’t approve,” he said quickly. “I merely acquiesced.” Mrs. Loring showed signs of inward agitation. “Oh, I give her up. I’ve done the best I could. She has behaved very badly and I—I don’t know what to think of her.” She began sobbing into her handkerchief and renewed her familiar plaint. “I do the best I can for her—for you, but you’re always going against me—both of you. I’ve tried so hard this winter—kept going when my nerves were on the ragged edge of collapse, just because I thought it was my duty——” “There, there, Mother, don’t be foolish,” said Loring soothingly. “Jane is young, too young to marry anyway. She’ll decide some day.” “No. I know her. She makes up her mind to a thing and she’ll cling to it until death. She’s like you in that way. She would rather die than change. I ought to have realized that. If she can’t marry Phil Gallatin, she won’t marry any one. Phil Gallatin,” she cried, “the least desirable young man in New York, a man without a character, without friends, the last of a tainted stock, a fortune hunter, dissolute——” He let her go on until she had exhausted both her[328] adjectives and her nerves while he listened thoughtfully, and then asked, “You’re sure she still loves Mr. Gallatin?” “I’ve tried to believe that she would forget him—that she would learn to care for Mr. Van Duyn. But she hasn’t. She has never been the same girl since you told her about that dreadful Jaffray woman. I’m afraid she’ll be sick—really sick. But I can’t do anything. What can I do?” The poor lady looked up plaintively, but her husband had walked to the window and was looking out into the Avenue. “Humph!” he grunted. “Lovesick, eh? There ought to be a cure for that.” “What?” “Let her marry him.” “Henry!” Mrs. Loring sat bolt upright on her couch, her eyes wide with incomprehension. “What do you mean?” “What I say,” he returned calmly. “That—Jane—should—marry Phil Gallatin?” He nodded. “You’re mad!” she said, getting up and facing him. “Stark mad! When you learned about them, you told me you’d rather see her dead than married to him.” “Now I’d rather see her married to him than dead. It’s simple enough. I’ve changed my mind.” “Am I taking leave of my senses—or are you?” “Neither, Mother,” he went over to her, his huge frame towering above her small body as his mind towered over hers, and took her gently by the elbows. “I’ve made a mistake. So have you. But it’s not too late to mend it. I say that if Jane wants Phil Gallatin, she shall have him.” “No, no. What has happened, Henry?” [329] “I’ve opened my eyes, that’s all, or rather Gallatin has opened them for me. I’m glad he did. And now I’m going to open yours. Phil Gallatin is a full-sized man. I found that out to-day—a man, every inch of one. I don’t care about his past. I wasn’t anything to brag about when I was a kid, and you know that, too. I didn’t amount to a hill of beans until my father died and I went up against it good and hard. I was down to bedrock, as Phil Gallatin was, until I got kicked once too often, and then I learned to kick back, and I’ve been kicking back ever since. I don’t care about Phil Gallatin’s past. That belongs to him. The only thing that matters about the man Jane marries is his future. That’s hers.” Loring put his hands in his pockets and walked up and down the rug, his bulk, physical and mental, dominating Mrs. Loring’s tears. “Listen to me. I’ve let you go on with your plans for Jane and I haven’t said anything, because I knew that when the time came for Jane to marry, your plans wouldn’t amount to much and mine wouldn’t either. Oh, I’ve been looking on. I’ve been watching this Van Duyn affair. I’ve never thought Jane would ever marry a nonentity like Van Duyn. If I had thought so, I guess I might have worried. But I didn’t worry because I never thought she did want to marry him. It seems I was right,” he chuckled. He waited a moment as though expecting an interruption from his wife, but she made none, and only sat in hopeless uncertainty listening dumbly. “For all her inexperience, Jane has an old head, Mother. This splendor we’re living in, her success in society, the flattery and compliments haven’t changed her any. And she’s not going to let anybody make a fool of her. She sees through people better than you do and[330] she doesn’t make many mistakes. I ought to have known she wouldn’t have fallen in love with Phil Gallatin if there hadn’t been something to him. I’ll give her credit for that——” “What makes you think he’s worthy of her?” Mrs. Loring broke in. “You talk of his future. What future can there be for a man with a habit——” “Wait!” he commanded. “As to that—he’s quit, do you understand? Quit it altogether. I’m just as sure of that as I am that Jane’s judgment was better than mine, so sure that I’m willing to stake Jane’s future on it. You needn’t ask me why I know it, but I do. He’s made good—with me and he’s made good with himself.” And while she listened he told her of the events of the morning which had resulted in the failure of his financial project and of Gallatin’s share in it. “And is this a reason? You’re willing to forgive him his sins, his evil reputation, and take him into your house as the husband of your only child, because he stands in the way of your making a lot of money? I don’t understand.” “There’s a lot you don’t understand. You and I don’t use the same kind of mental machinery. But I want you to know that any boy of his age who’s got the nerve to tackle a big game the way he did that one and win out against a man of my caliber is the kind of a young man I want on my side. He’s the kind of a young man I’ve been looking for ever since I went into the coal business, and I’m not going to let him go if I can help it.” “But his morals! You must know what people say about him, that he’s——” “I don’t care what they say about him,” growled Loring. “Half of the world is lying, and the other half listening. I’m glad he isn’t a willy-boy. It’s the fellow[331] who has to fight temptations that learns the meaning of victory. There are no airholes in the steel that’s been through the blast, and that boy has been through the blast. I can read it in his face. He couldn’t square up to me the way he did if there was any weakness in him. He’s suffered, but it hasn’t hurt him any. He’s found himself. I’m going to help him. See here, Janet, I’m getting older, and so are you. I’ve been thinking about it some lately. I’m a pretty rich man and I’m going to be richer. But do you think I want to turn the money I leave over to a man like Coley Van Duyn or Dirwell De Lancey to make ducks and drakes of? Have it turned into an amusement fund for the further debauching of debauched gentility? Make a Trust Fund of it to perpetuate the Pink Tea? I reckon not. I haven’t worked all these years for nothing, and I’m going to see that Jane doesn’t make the mistakes of other rich men’s children. I don’t think she wants to anyway. I’ve always told her that she wouldn’t find the man she’s going to marry walking up and down Fifth Avenue. The man to keep my estate together has got to be made of different stuff. I’ve found him. He’s an ace that I dropped into the discard by mistake, but I’m going to play him just the same. I want him, and if Jane wants him, too, I’m going to get him for her.” “I don’t know what to think of you. I can’t see yet——” Mrs. Loring wailed. Loring stopped beside her and patted her on the shoulder. “Don’t you worry, Janet. I know what I’m about. You leave this to me. Is Jane in her room? I want to see her.” “Yes,” said Mrs. Loring in tones of resignation. “She’s there, but I don’t think she’d see you, even if she[332] knew what you wanted to talk about. To-morrow, perhaps.” Loring shrugged his massive shoulders. “Oh, all right,” he growled, and made his way to his own dressing-room. He held the keys to the situation in his hand, and manlike wanted to use them without delay, to unlock the door that barred the way to happiness for Jane, to act at once upon the inspiration that had come to him and settle for all time the problem of the future. But he took his wife’s advice and postponed the talk with his daughter, wondering at the ways of women. He dined alone and went to his study early, sat at his desk and wrote the following note to Philip Gallatin. <div class="blockquot"> Dear Mr. Gallatin: Our meeting this morning was so brief and so public that I was prevented from speaking to you as freely as I would have liked. I’ve done you a wrong—an injustice, and I want to do what I can to set the matter right, with respect to your future relations with me and with my family. I have already done what I can and I am sure that both Mrs. Loring and my daughter will gladly welcome you as a guest to our house whenever you may call. I hope this will be soon, Mr. Gallatin. I only wanted to put myself on record with you that you may be assured that there will be no further misunderstandings on your part of our intentions toward you. Very sincerely yours, Henry K. Loring. </div> The note written, he sealed it and rang for Hastings. “Have this note delivered at once. Try the Cosmos Club and, if Mr. Gallatin is not there, find him.” This burden off his broad shoulders, Loring smiled, turned on his reading lamp, took some newly acquired snuff boxes out of a cabinet and under his magnifying[333] glass, proceeded to enjoy them. It was in the midst of this pleasant occupation that some time later, he was interrupted by the entrance of his daughter. She was dressed in a pale blue lounging robe, and her bedroom slippers made no sound on the heavy floor covering, but the rustle of her draperies caused him to look up. “Hello, Jane!” he said, kissing her. “Glad to see you, child. You slipped in like a ghost. Feeling any better?” “Oh, I’m all right,” she said wearily. “Mother said you wanted to see me.” Loring put down his magnifying glass and turned toward her. “Yes, I did. Natural, isn’t it? I haven’t had a chance to for a month.” He made her turn so that he could look into her face. “You’re not looking right. Your eyes are big as saucers. What’s the matter? Too much gayety?” “Yes, I think so, Daddy. I’m a little tired, that’s all. I need a rest.” Her father examined her in silence for a moment, and then drew her down on a chair near him. “Jane, I’ve been thinking about you lately. We’ve all been so busy this winter, you and mother, with your dances and the opera, and I with business, that I’m afraid we’ve been drifting apart. I don’t like it. You don’t ever come in here to see me the way you used to.” “I haven’t had time,” she evaded. “That isn’t it, daughter. I know. It’s something else. Something has come between us. I’ve felt it and I feel it still.” She opened her eyes wide and looked at him and then looked away. “That’s the truth and you know it, daughter. Something[334] has come between us. I’ve missed those talks with you. They used to keep me in touch with the gentler side of life, sort of humanized me somehow, made me a little softer, a little gentler the next day. I’ve wanted you often, Jane, but I didn’t know how to say so. And so I got along without you. You’ve never quite forgiven me, Jane?” Jane was pulling at the laces of her tea-gown with thumb and forefinger, but she didn’t look up as she asked, “Forgiven you for what, Daddy?” “For coming between you and Phil Gallatin,” he said gently. She started a trifle and then went on picking at the lace on her frock. “Oh, that,” she said quietly. “You had to do that. I’m glad you did.” “No,” he interrupted. “You’re not glad, Jane. Neither am I. I did what I thought was my duty, but it has made a difference with us both. I’m sorry.” “Sorry? Why?” “Because it has made you unhappy—and resentful.” “I’m not resentful.” “Yes. I’ve felt it. Even if I’d been justified, you would still resent it.” “But you were justified, Daddy, weren’t you?” she asked. She turned her gaze full on his face and the pain in her eyes hurt him. He got up and walked the length of the room before he replied. “I did what I thought was right. I’d probably do the same thing again under similar circumstances. I—I didn’t think Mr. Gallatin the kind of man I wanted for you.” She lay back in her chair and looked into the fire, but[335] said nothing. Loring came close to her and laid his hand on her shoulder. “You loved him, Jane?” She didn’t reply. “You still love him, daughter?” Her head moved slowly from side to side. “No,” she muttered, stiflingly, “no, no.” Loring smiled down at the top of her head. “Why should you deny it, Jane? What would you say if I acknowledged that I had made a mistake in judgment, that you were right after all, that Phil Gallatin is not the man I thought him, that he’s worthy in every way of your regard, that of all the young men I’ve met in New York in business or out of it, he is the one man I would rather have marry my daughter?” She had risen and was leaning toward him, pale and trembling. “What—do—you—mean?” she whispered fearfully. He told her. “That case you spoke of——?” “He beat me—fairly—and he beat me badly, so badly that I can’t afford to have him against me. I’ve taken him into the business. I can’t afford to be without him.” “Then—what you said about him——” “I was fooled, child, completely fooled. We thought he was a joke. We laughed at him and all the while he was out West working, quietly, skillfully, diligently piling up his evidence. He’s made good, Jane, and I’ve told him so. I’ve written him a note to-night, a note of apology for my share in his unhappiness, telling him that I was sorry for what had happened and telling him that he would be a welcome visitor to my house——” “Daddy!” Jane had straightened and now glanced fearfully toward the door as though she expected to see[336] Phil Gallatin at any moment coming through the curtains. “You had no right to do that! I will not see him. Whatever his business relations with you, you have no right to force him on me. I have known for a long time that he was clever, that he could make his way in the world if he wanted to, but your acceptance of him changes nothing with me.” “But you love him,” he persisted. “No, no,” she protested. “I could never love a man who had once been faithless—never forgive him—never even in death. That a man is successful in the world is all you men care about. Oh, I know you. Because he’s matched his brain against yours and beaten you, you think he’s a demigod; but that doesn’t change the heart in him, the lips that swear love eternal while they’re kissing another——” “Lies!” broke in Loring with a wave of his hand. “I don’t believe that story.” Jane paused and examined him calmly, struggling for her control. When she spoke her voice had sunk to a trembling note scarcely above a whisper. “Can you prove that story was a lie?” “Prove it? No. But I believe it was.” “You didn’t believe so once. Have you heard anything to make you change your opinion?” she insisted. He was tempted to lie but thought better of it, and his hesitation cost him victory. Jane turned toward the door. “I’m going away somewhere—abroad, if you’ll let me, away from here. I will not see Mr. Gallatin—ever. I despise him—utterly.” She left her father standing in the middle of the room, his mouth agape, and eyes staring at the door through which she had disappeared. Keen as he was, there were[337] still some things in the world, he discovered, about which he needed information. The next day Mr. Loring received a polite note from Mr. Gallatin which still further mystified him. Mr. Gallatin thanked him for his kind expressions of good will and expressed the intention of studying further to deserve them; but hoped that Mr. Loring would comprehend that reasons which it were better not to mention, would make it impossible for him to take advantage of Mr. Loring’s personal kindness in his cordial invitation. Henry Loring was on the point of tearing up the note in disgust but thought better of it. Instead, with a subtlety which showed that he had not yet lost the knack of taking advantage of the lesser lessons of life, he left it obtrusively upon the dressing table in Mrs. Loring’s boudoir, where later, in her mother’s absence, Jane found it. <hr class="chap" /> [338] <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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