Broken Barriers by Meredith Nicholson - HTML preview

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

I

MISS REYNOLDS called Grace on the telephone a week after Kemp’s death and with her usual kindly peremptoriness demanded that Grace dine with her the following night.

“I went away unexpectedly and didn’t have a chance to let you know. I’ve got something I want to talk to you about—just you and me. Please come!”

Grace was ashamed not to manifest more cordiality in accepting the invitation but she was beset by fears lest Miss Reynolds was seizing the first possible moment to question her as to her singular conduct at the door on the afternoon when she had gone to the house with Trenton. And that seemed long ago, hidden by the black wall of an impenetrable past.

Miss Reynolds called for her at Shipley’s at the closing hour and greeted her as though nothing had happened. She had been summoned to Baltimore on business, she explained. She talked in her brisk fashion throughout the dinner,—of impersonal matters, not mentioning the Trentons at all until they were settled in the living room.

“After all, I think I prefer plain bread-and-butter people—plain folks. A woman traveling with a maid and pretending to be keen about poor suffering humanity seems to me a good deal of a joke. Mrs. Trenton did one thing for me though and I ought to be grateful for that,—she sent me scampering back to the conservatives! I’d been just a little infected with some of these new ideas, but after having that woman in my house two days and hearing her talk and seeing how fussy she is about her personal comfort, I’m for hanging on to the old fogy notions a while longer.”

As Miss Reynolds continued her dissection of Mrs. Trenton’s social program, Grace felt suddenly a strong impulse to tell her friend the whole story of her acquaintance with Trenton. In a way Miss Reynolds had a right to know. She waited, wondering how she could begin and what her friend would say, when Miss Reynolds said in her characteristically abrupt fashion:

“Look here, little girl, you’ve got something on your mind; you haven’t been listening to me at all! You needn’t be afraid of me; I’m a queer old person but sometimes I do understand. I wouldn’t force your confidence; you know that,—but—why you dear child!”

Grace’s eyes had filled with tears. Miss Reynolds crossed to her quickly.

“How clumsy I am! I wouldn’t hurt you for worlds, dear!”

She sat down on a stool at Grace’s feet and drew the girl’s hands into her own.

“Poor dear heart,” she murmured softly. “It’s an awful big old world and little girls do sometimes get hurt—and lost. Maybe you’d like me to call the car and take you for a drive.”

“No; I want to tell you; I’ve got to tell you. But I’m afraid if I do——”

“You couldn’t tell me anything that would make me stop loving you,” Miss Reynolds replied gently....

Grace spared herself in nothing. She told the whole story, told it as a child might confess a grievous fault at a mother’s knee, described the spirit of revolt in which she had thought to ignore the old barriers, scorned the safeguards that had offered protection, exulted in her freedom. And now, appalled by the consequences of her treason she found herself defenceless, groping for the support of the very wall that she had contemptuously disregarded. Her day of rebellion was past; she was now eager to be received again into the ancient citadel.

“I think,” she said finally, “that that’s all.”

Then for the first time Miss Reynolds looked up at her. Her eyes were wet.

“Dear little girl,” she began and then was silent for a time, gently stroking the girl’s hands.

“I guessed there was something wrong, of course,” she went on, “when I met you in the hall that day. When I went in I saw right away that my interruption was unfortunate. But Mrs. Trenton very calmly introduced me to her husband. We talked a moment and he left. As he went out he merely bowed to her without saying anything. He struck me as being a gentleman—none of the look of a dissolute person, certainly a handsome man—a high-bred look and air.”

“Oh, tell me you saw the fineness, the nobility in him! I couldn’t bear to have you hate him!”

“Why, no, I don’t hate him. I’m only sorry for both of you! But—I don’t think you quite understand—well, that as individuals we are responsible to those who have prior claims upon our consideration. For the sake of happiness to the greater number we must often give up our own happiness. Many beautiful and noble women have done that.”

“Oh, I love him! I love him so!” moaned the girl.

“Yes, I believe you do, dear. It’s pitiful—the whole thing. Be sure I feel for you; I want to help you.”

Miss Reynolds rose and took a turn across the room.

“It’s in his favor that he realized the thing couldn’t go on; that for your sake it had to stop. That woman might easily ruin your life; and of course she has the right on her side.”

“Yes,—yes, I know. I’ve no justification at all except—except—I love him.”

“Yes, I understand. I believe you truly love him; but now its my business as your friend to urge you to forget. I realize that it won’t be easy. It would simplify matters if you could go away,—see other people, develop new interests.”

“Yes; I’d thought of that,” Grace replied. “But I can’t leave home; there are difficulties; it wouldn’t be kind.”

“No; I understand that. But that brings me to the matter I asked you here to talk about. I want to equip a house which self-supporting young women can manage entirely by themselves with the fewest possible restrictions, not an institution—I hate the word—but a club. You notice I’m not smoking!” Miss Reynolds smiled. “Well, Mrs. Trenton cured me of that; she left me bored with the whole business of being an emancipated woman. I’ve got the idea that the house I propose can set a standard of morals and manners—something that will be good for the whole community. But there mustn’t be a lot of restrictions. I want the girls who live there to use it as though it were their own home. I have every confidence that they’ll make a happy household with just a little sympathy and encouragement, and,” she smiled, “I hope—my example!”

“It’s perfectly wonderful!” cried Grace. “And it’s just like you!”

“Humph! It’s perfectly selfish on my part; I expect to have a lot of fun getting it started; maybe the girls will let me dig in the garden now and then. There’ll be a garden and tennis courts, and they must have a dance once a week, and I might drop in occasionally.”

“Oh, they’ll adore you!”

“Well, I don’t mean to bother them. There are such houses in New York and Chicago and I’m going to visit them and get all the practical ideas I can before I say anything about it. I need some one to help me collect data and look after the thousand and one details of planning. We’ll call it a secretaryship. Now, Grace,” and Miss Reynolds beamed on her, “will you help me?”

“Why, Miss Reynolds!”

“It might be just what you need right now,” Miss Reynolds went on, ignoring the girl’s questioning, troubled look. “In fact, my dear child, you put the whole idea in my head by things you’ve dropped from time to time about the problems of young business women.”

“But now—since you know——”

“Dear child, it’s knowing that makes me all the more eager to have your help! It’s only people who make mistakes and suffer that really understand. And we’ve got to have some heart in our club! So we’ll call it settled and we’ll go to New York two weeks from today and begin our work.”

II

Grace’s announcement at home that she was to leave Shipley’s to become Miss Reynolds’s secretary greatly pleased her mother, who saw in the change a social advancement. It was much more in keeping with her idea of the Durland dignity for a daughter of the house to serve a lady of wealth as secretary than to be selling ready-made-clothing. And Mrs. Durland hoped Grace would appreciate the privilege of becoming identified with so praiseworthy a philanthropy.

Ethel, possibly jealous of Miss Reynolds’s growing interest in Grace, expressed at once her concern as to proper religious influences in the proposed club. She confessed to disappointment that Miss Reynolds had not manifested more interest in the girls’ club in Dr. Ridgely’s church. Miss Reynolds might very easily have given the church the benefit of the money she would spend on an independent work. It was not quite loyal, she thought, to the church and all it stood for; but she hoped the souls of the young women who lived in the club would be properly cared for and that Dr. Ridgely would be on the board; she favored strong boards to administer such institutions.

“There ain’t goin’ to be no board,” Grace answered cheerily, “of the kind you mean. The girls are going to run the place themselves.”

“Then it won’t last long. I have no faith in such things.”

“Better get some, Sis. Miss Reynolds knows what she’s about. She’s hoping others will follow her example and make a chain of such clubs.”

Grace learned from her father that there had been no developments in the motor since Kemp’s death; he didn’t know where he stood, but Trenton had been encouraging as to the outcome. The reorganization made necessary by the absorption of the Cummings concern was causing the delay, Durland thought.

“Trenton’s a busy man these days, but he’s spent several evenings with me at the shop. He’s a big man; he knows what he’s about and he’s been mighty fine to me.”

“I’m glad of that, daddy. I’m sure Mr. Trenton would tell you if he didn’t mean to go through with it.”

“I think you’re right, Grace. It’s a little hard waiting—and I’ve done a lot of waiting in my time.”

“You dear! We’ve got to believe the patient waiter gets the biggest tips—that’s our slogan!”

She tapped him lightly on the shoulder as she spoke, keeping time to her words. He didn’t know how his praise of Trenton had warmed her heart. The fact that he saw Trenton and no doubt would continue to meet him frequently gave her father a new interest in her eyes.

Grace saw Miss Reynolds every few days, and was finding relief and happiness in the prospect of her new work. Irene expressed the greatest satisfaction when Grace told her that she was leaving Shipley’s.

“It’s more in your line, Grace. And I certainly hand it to Little Old Ready-Money for having the sense to appreciate you. If she hadn’t been the real goods she’d have backed away when you told her about Ward. Some woman, I say! It does sort of cheer things up to know there are people like that in the world. By the way, have you seen John lately?”

“Not since Tommy died.”

“Well, there’s another of the saints!” said Irene. “He’s pretending now he doesn’t know we were on a wild party and that he saved our reputations. He won’t talk about it; not at all! So don’t try to thank him. Tommy’s estate is going through Sanders’s office and John’s no end busy. He’s getting acquainted with Ward—funny how things work out! But if John has any idea about you and Ward he never lets on. I thought you might like to know that.”

“Well, he’s probably done some thinking,” Grace replied soberly; “John isn’t stupid.”

“He’s my idea of a prince, if you ask me! He’s making a big hit with my family; mother thinks he’s the grandest young man who ever came up the pike. She’s got him carrying all his mending and darning out to her to do and he’s so nice to her I’m getting jealous!”

III

Roy came home for a week-end, but only after his mother had written him repeatedly urging a visit. He had really been at work—Mrs. Durland had this from the Dean of the Law School—but his enthusiasm for the profession his mother had chosen for him was still at low ebb. He wanted to find work on a newspaper; he wanted to go West; anything was preferable to setting up as a lawyer in an office of his own. It was disclosed that Mrs. Durland had arranged to mortgage the house to raise money with which to establish him. But it was the definite announcement of her purpose to bring Roy’s wife home immediately after commencement, that the young couple might, as Mrs. Durland put it, begin their life together, that precipitated a crisis in Ethel’s relations with her family.

The baby would be born in August and Mrs. Durland contended that the family dignity would suffer far less if Roy announced his marriage when he left the university and joined his wife in his father’s house at Indianapolis.

Ethel was outraged by the plan. She would not live under the same roof with that creature; and she availed herself of the opportunity to tell Roy what she thought of him. He had always been petted and indulged; his mother had favored him over the other children; they had all been obliged to practice the most rigid self-denial to educate him, and this was the result!

Roy surlily martyrized himself in meeting his sister’s attack. He had never wanted to go to college; he hated the law and if it hadn’t been for John Moore’s stupid meddling he would have extricated himself from the scrape with the girl he had been forced to marry.

“I never thought you’d really do it, mother,” Ethel moaned. “I didn’t think you’d be cruel enough to visit this shame on me. Everybody will talk; we’ll be ostracized by all our friends.”

Grace’s attempt to restore harmony only infuriated Ethel.

“I’ve told Osgood the whole story,” Ethel announced. “I felt that was the only honorable thing to do and he’s been splendid about it. We’ve been engaged since Easter and he’s ready to marry me at any time. I’d hoped we’d be able to live at home for a little while, but now I’m going! I can already feel that abandoned creature in the house! Osgood has a good offer in Cincinnati and I’ll marry him tomorrow and go away and never come back!”

“I would if I were you,” said Grace, as Ethel stalked from the room. “Safety first! Grab all the life belts.”

Ethel paused and pointed an accusing finger at Grace.

“You! You’re a pretty one to talk!”

Stephen Durland raised his head, coughed and returned to his reading. Roy announced that he was going down town. The front door slammed upon him and Mrs. Durland burst into tears.

“You don’t think—you don’t think Ethel means she’s going!”

“I certainly hope she means it,” Grace replied wearily. “Osgood’s not a bad fellow and maybe he can beat some sense into her.”

IV

Grace had never been in New York before and Miss Reynolds gave her every opportunity to see the sights. The investigation of devices for housing business women Miss Reynolds pursued with her usual thoroughness, broadening her inquiry to include a survey of the general social effort in the metropolis. She accepted no invitations in which Grace could not be included, with the result that they dined or had luncheon in half a dozen private homes, and were entertained in fashionable restaurants and at the Colony Club.

“You’re so good to me!” said Grace one night when they reached their hotel after a dinner at the house of some old friends of Miss Reynolds. “All the guests were somebody except me! I wonder what they’d think if they knew that only a little while ago I was Number Eighteen in Shipley’s!”

“They knew you were good to look at,” Miss Reynolds replied, “and talked well and had very pretty manners. Nothing else was any of their business.”

“But sometimes—sometimes, Cousin Beulah, when your friends are so kind and treat me so beautifully, I can’t help thinking that if they knew about me——”

“My dear Grace, this busy world’s a lot kinder than it gets credit for being! Even if the world knew it wouldn’t condemn you.”

They had visited a settlement house on the East Side one morning and were driving to Washington Square for luncheon with a friend of Miss Reynolds who lived in one of the old houses which she said Grace ought to see.

“We’re a bit early for our engagement,” Miss Reynolds remarked as they reached Broadway. “We’ve got half an hour to look at Trinity.”

They walked quickly through the yard, that Grace might experience the thrill of reading the historic names on the grave-stones, and entered the church. It was the noon hour and sightseers mingling with the employees from the towering buildings came and went. Miss Reynolds and Grace sat down in a pew near the door. A service was in progress and Grace, unfamiliar with liturgic churches, at once fixed her attention on the chancel. The minister’s voice reciting the office, the sense of age communicated by the walls of the edifice, all had their effect on her. She felt singularly alone. The heartache that had troubled her little since she left home again became acute. Here was peace, but it was a peace that mocked rather than calmed the spirit....

... “We humbly beseech thee for all sorts and conditions of men.”...

The mournful cadence of the prayer only increased her loneliness. She was like a child who, watching night descend in a strange place, is overcome by a stifling nostalgia. Her throat ached with inexpressible emotions; her heart fluttered like a wild bird in her breast. She knew she wanted Trenton; nothing else mattered; no one else could ever fill his place. She bowed her head and her lips trembled.

A man walked hesitatingly down the aisle and slipped into a pew in front of her. Apparently he was one of the many who were seeking relief from the world’s turmoil. She remained motionless, staring. It was unbelievable that it could be Trenton; and yet beyond question it was he. His coming was like an answer to prayer. She recalled what he had written after his illness, that he had thought of her once so intently that he had brought her into the room....

She remembered that he had once told her that his New York office was near Trinity. Perhaps it was his habit to drop in as he passed.

Miss Reynolds, turning the pages of a prayer book, evidently had not noticed, or had failed to recognize him. Presently she glanced at her watch, touched Grace’s arm and nodded that it was time to go. As they paused in the entry to look at the bronze doors Grace decided not to tell her friend that Trenton was in the church; but suddenly he stood beside them.

“This is surely more than a coincidence,” he said, smiling gravely as he shook hands. “I pass here every day but I hadn’t been in before for years. But today——”

They walked together to the gate, Grace silent, Miss Reynolds and Trenton discussing the weather to cover their embarrassment. Grace, still awed by his appearance, saw that he looked careworn; even when he smiled at some remark of Miss Reynolds his eyes scarcely brightened.

“I have a taxi here somewhere.” Miss Reynolds was glancing about uncertainly when the machine drew in at the curb.

“Are you staying in town long?” asked Trenton as he opened the cab door.

“Only a few days,” Miss Reynolds replied guardedly. “Grace and I are here on a little business. I wonder——”

Without finishing the sentence she stepped into the car and gave the Washington Square address. Trenton rousing as he realized that they were about to leave him, bent forward and took Grace’s hand.

“It’s so good to see you!” he said steadily. “I’m going West tonight. Mrs. Trenton’s been very ill; she’s in a sanitarium in Connecticut.” Then, aware that he couldn’t detain them longer, “Miss Reynolds, I’m sure you and Miss Durland will take good care of each other!”

“Good-bye,” said Grace faintly and watched him disappear in the crowd.

“I was going to ask him to come and dine with us,” said Miss Reynolds when the car was in motion, “but I changed my mind. And now I wish I could change it again!”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” Grace answered colorlessly. “It would have been a mistake.”

“Well, perhaps.” And Trenton was not referred to again.

But all the rest of the day Grace lived upon the memory of his look, his voice. He was still in a world she knew; any turn of the long road might bring him in sight again.

V

A week in Chicago followed a fortnight in New York and Grace had filled a large portfolio with notes and pamphlets bearing upon Miss Reynolds’s projected house for business girls. Her mother’s letters had kept her informed of family affairs and she was prepared to find Ethel gone and Roy’s wife established in the house. Ethel had refused to be married at home and the ceremony had been performed by Dr. Ridgely in his study, with only Mrs. Durland present to represent the family. Ethel and Haley had left at once for Cincinnati, where they were to make their home.

“I did the best I could about it, Grace,” Mrs. Durland kept repeating pathetically. “I hated to have her go that way, but she would do it. She said some pretty unkind things to your father after you left, and he didn’t go to see her married.”

For Sadie, the new member of the family, Grace formed an immediate liking. The girl was so anxious to be friendly and to do her share of the domestic labor and so appreciative of kindness that she brought a new element of cheer into the household. She was intelligent, and amusing, after a slangy fashion; even Stephen Durland laughed at her jokes.

Grace found that her position as secretary to Miss Reynolds was far from being a sinecure. She was present at all the conferences with the architect who had now been engaged, and when the announcement of the new club for business girls could no longer be deferred it fell to Grace’s lot to answer the letters that poured in upon Miss Reynolds. A bedroom was fitted up as an office and there Grace spent half of every day, keeping accounts, typing letters and answering the importunities of the telephone.

One day in June Grace went to Judge Sanders’ office on an errand for Miss Reynolds. It was merely a matter of leaving an abstract of title for examination, but as she was explaining what was wanted to the office girl John Moore came out of one of the inner rooms.

“Caught in the act!” he exclaimed. “I’ve just been hankering to see you. Can’t you give me a few minutes, right now?”

She was really in a hurry, but when he earnestly protested that he had business with her she followed him into a room whose door bore the inscription: “Mr. Moore.”

“That looks terribly important, John,” she said indicating the lettering. “Onward and upward!”

“Well,” he said, when they were seated. “Mr. Kemp’s death has thrown a lot of business into the office and some of it that doesn’t require much brain power they leave to me. Mr. Trenton just left a few minutes ago. He came in to see if I’d go down into Knox County to inventory a coal mine Kemp owned. I’m getting a lot of little jobs like that.”

She smiled, as he wanted her to, at his boyish pride in his work. She derived a deep pleasure from the thought that Trenton had just been there. Trenton would appreciate John’s qualities; they would appreciate each other’s qualities and talents.

“Maybe you don’t know,” John went on, “and maybe I oughtn’t to tell you; but right here on my desk are the papers for your father to sign away his rights in his motor patents and his formula for that non-breakable spark-plug porcelain you probably know about. Your father’s coming in tomorrow to sign up. Mr. Trenton has left a check here for advance royalties that will pay the Durland grocery bill for sometime to come!”

“Do you mean it, John! I’d been afraid Mr. Kemp’s death would end all that.”

“Trenton’s the whole cheese in that business now and he knows what he’s doing. He says those two things are bound to earn your father a lot of money.”

“Father certainly deserves any success that may come to him. I’m so glad for him and mother—just now when things at home don’t look particularly bright.”

“You’re thinking of Roy? Well, Roy will get his law degree but that boy had no more business in the law than I’d have in a millinery shop. I sneaked him up here last Sunday and had Mr. Trenton take a look at him. You know Roy’s a smart, likable chap, with a friendly way of meeting people and I thought maybe there was a job somewhere in the Kemp organization that he’d fit into.”

“I don’t know—” began Grace, doubtfully, remembering Roy’s anger at John’s meddling.

“Oh, Roy took it fine! Mr. Trenton’s taken a fancy to him; in fact they liked each other immensely. Roy’s to get his sheepskin and then go right into the Kemp factory for six months to get an idea of the business and then transfer to the sales department.”

“Why, John, that’s wonderful!” exclaimed Grace. “You don’t know how relieved I am.”

“You’re not half as relieved as Roy is to dodge the law,” John chuckled. “That boy will make good. I’d told Mr. Trenton all about him and he was as kind to him as a father. Roy wanted me to ask you to spring the news on his mother. She’s so keen about having him a lawyer that he’s afraid to tell her himself.”

“Yes, John; I’ll do it tonight. And thank you! Oh, thank you for everything!”

VI

Stephen Durland’s announcement that the Kemp Company had taken up the option on his motor and made a contract for the manufacture of the porcelain tempered in some degree his wife’s disappointment when Grace broke the news that Roy had renounced the law. Mrs. Durland took comfort in the fact that Roy had really passed the law examinations and was admitted to practice with the rest of his class. This measurably satisfied her family pride by enrolling Roy on the list of attorneys of his state in succession to his grandfather and great-grandfather. Roy, however, was much less thrilled by this than by the prospect of having at once employment that he felt was within his powers. The idea of making machinery had never interested him, but the idea of selling it appealed to him strongly and for the first time in his life he found himself in sympathy and accord with his father.

Stephen Durland had money in the bank and was reasonably sure of a good income for the remainder of his life. The Kemp publicity department had given wide advertisement to his discoveries, and several technical journals had asked for photographs of the inventor, the taking of which Grace joyfully supervised. A kind fate having intervened to prevent the mortgaging of the old home Mrs. Durland was now considering selling it and satisfying the great desire of her heart by moving beyond the creek.

Ethel, hearing of the family’s unexpected prosperity, had been up for a visit, and returned to Cincinnati with a supply of linens for her apartment. Her mother thought it only fair that she should participate in the good luck that had at last overtaken the Durlands and Grace agreed with her. Haley’s earnings were meager and Ethel received the gift graciously. She even volunteered a few generous words to her young sister-in-law, about whom she admitted she might have been mistaken.

Durland declined to become interested in the proposed change of residence. In fact he continued to appear dazed by his good fortune and Grace, for years familiar with his moods, was mystified by his conduct.

One evening when they were alone on the front porch she asked a question about affairs at the factory, really in the hope that he would speak of Trenton. When he had answered perfunctorily that everything was running smoothly and that they would be ready to put the new motor on the market in six months he remarked that Trenton was away a good deal.

“His wife’s sick, you know; down East somewhere. I guess he’s had a good deal to worry him. When he’s in town he works hard. There’s a lot to do moving the stuff from Cummings’s old plant, and putting up the new buildings.”

“Mr. Trenton’s certainly been a good friend to you, daddy. But of course he wouldn’t have taken your patents if they hadn’t been all they promised to be.”

Durland turned his head to make sure they were not overheard. Mrs. Durland was somewhere in the house and Roy and Sadie had gone for a walk. Durland cleared his throat and said in a low tone:

“I’d never have got those things right, Grace. Trenton straightened me out on a lot o’ points that were too much for me. He worked with me every night for a week till everything came right. He oughtn’t to give me the credit.”

“Now, daddy, that’s just like you! Of course, they’re all your ideas! But it was fine of Mr. Trenton to help you round them out.”

“It was more than that, Grace,” Durland persisted stubbornly.

This, then, was the cause of her father’s preoccupation and the embarrassment with which he had been hearing himself praised. It was Trenton’s genius, not his, that had perfected the motor! Something sweet and wistful like the scents of the summer night crept into her heart. She was happy, supremely happy, in the thought that Trenton had done this, given her father the benefit of his skill, and for her. Yes; it was all for her, and for those close and dear to her. But her father’s confession moved her greatly. The light from the window fell upon his hand, which seemed to her to symbolize failure as it hung inert from the arm of his chair.

“Oh, lots of inventors must accept help from experts, when they’ve got as far as they can by themselves. Don’t you worry about that! I’m sure it was a pleasure to Mr. Trenton to help you over your difficulties. He naturally wouldn’t want any of the credit when you did all the real work.”