The Way of the Strong Part 74

In silence they pa.s.sed into the house. In silence Phyllis led the way upstairs. She wanted no word to pa.s.s between them now, until Frank had seen Monica.

At the door of the sick room she paused and knocked. It was opened by the new nurse, arrived only that morning from Calford. Then Phyllis, signing to Frank to remain outside, pa.s.sed in and closed the door behind her.

The man waited. The minutes seemed like hours. He had forgotten everything now except that he was to see Monica again. Something of Phyllis's manner in entering that room had inspired him with a dread which no words could have given him. He felt that perhaps he was about to see her for the last time.

At last he heard a rustle of skirts beyond the door. The next moment the nurse stood in the doorway, signing to him for silence. Then she beckoned him in.

The door closed softly behind him, and he started at the great canopied bed.

Monica was half propped up. Beside her was Phyllis, tenderly chafing her thin, almost transparent hands. He took a step toward the bed, but halted abruptly as he heard Monica's familiar voice, now high pitched and strident.

"No, no, I don't believe it. I can't have won it. Why you don't know what it means to me. Here, here's a dollar for you. I'm going to see the editor at once. Yes, he's my son and what of it? You dare." Then followed a few mumbled unintelligible words. But in a moment her voice rose to a pa.s.sionate appeal. "Oh, Frank, don't leave me! Don't you understand? I love him so. No, don't go--please don't leave me. He's gone! He's gone! They've taken him to prison. Oh, G.o.d, and I shall never see him again. Five years. G.o.d have mercy, have mercy!"

The voice rambled on, now rising to a dreadful pitch, now dying down to a whisper. Now the words and sentences were plain, distinct, now there were only despairing mutterings, which had neither meaning nor continuity. Frank stood looking on in horrified amazement. He had not dreamed of such a thing. No one had even hinted at such a condition.

But he could not stand there listening. He felt as though his heart must break.

Suddenly he started forward, and Phyllis, watching beckoned to him. He flung himself upon his knees at the bedside, and tried to take one of the sick woman's hands in his. But instantly Monica s.n.a.t.c.hed it away.

"Don't dare to touch me," she cried, struggling into a sitting posture.

"You--you have done this. You sent him to prison--and now I shall never see him again."

The sick woman's voice had risen almost to a scream, and the nurse sprang to her side. Phyllis caught Frank's hands and led him away.

"Come," she said, and together they pa.s.sed hastily out of the room.

They were standing at the head of the stairs. Phyllis, with her hands clasping the bal.u.s.trade of the gallery, overlooking the entrance hall, was gazing out of the window, opposite her, at the wonderful golden skyline beyond the belt of trees that marked the course of the river.

Frank was beside her, half turned toward her. He was standing on the third step of the staircase.

"This delirium only started after I left this morning," the girl was saying. "She was quite--quite all right then. Oh, Frank, I don't know what to do. Mr. Hendrie is away, and--I'm afraid."

The man's emotion was no less. His face was ghastly pale, and a light of utter depression and hopelessness had dulled his eyes. At the girl's final admission he suddenly looked up, and a pa.s.sionate light replaced the gloom of a moment before.

"Phyl, Phyl, I can't go on!" he cried. "I can't leave her. I must stay here. I love her. I owe her everything--everything I am. She--she is my mother. Oh, G.o.d, and to think I am even now here in the district at war with all that belongs to her. To think that I should have one single thought in antagonism to her. No, no. I can't go on with it. I must stay and help her. I must stay till--till the crisis is past.

Phyl--tell me. Tell me what I can do. I love her, dear, and I want to--help her."

The man's sudden pa.s.sion stirred the girl's responsive heart. But it also helped to banish her own moment of weakness. She suddenly placed one hand upon his as it rested on the bal.u.s.trade beside her. It was a caress that thrilled the man, even in the midst of his trouble.

"You can't stay here, Frank, dear," she said. "It would be useless; it would be wrong."

"Wrong?"

The girl nodded.

"Yes," she said simply.

"But surely I have a right to remain, and--and help?"

Phyllis smiled tenderly.

"How?" she inquired. "Help? You would only stay around worrying and miserable. You could do no good, dear. Besides----"

"Besides?"

"Your duty lies--elsewhere."

"My duty lies here. My first duty is to my--mother!"

The man's denial came with a deep thrill of pa.s.sion.

"Does it, dear?" Phyllis said gently. "I think not--yet." Then she suddenly abandoned herself to all that was in her heart for this man's good, and her voice was deep with her own emotion. "I tell you you can't stay. You surely can't. See, there's nothing for you to do around. I shall send word to Mr. Hendrie, at once. The doctor is here, and the nurses. You must go. Go right about your business. Frank, Frank, just fix it in your mind right away, there's no two roads of duty. Your bond is given. Your future is bound right up in helping folks who need your help. You cannot draw back just--just because your--mother--is sick. To do that is just yourself claiming you. Your pledge is to the workers now, and you must fulfill it. I would have you do this, sure. Say, when you're through, when you've fulfilled your duty, then it's time to come around and think of those you just love--for yourself. Frank, I'd just love to have you stay around, but I'd rather you do the duty you set yourself--now."

The man stared incredulously up into her face. He was trying to fathom the meaning of this sudden change of att.i.tude toward the work he was engaged upon. Even at such a moment he could not help remembering how pa.s.sionately she had protested against it in Toronto.

"_You_--_you_, Phyl, tell me to--go on? _You_ refuse me when I implore you to let me remain with Mon?"

The girl looked down at him with her wise little smile.

"Yes," she said, with a sigh. "I want you to go now, otherwise--you will never be able to come back to us. Come, dear," she went on, smiling at his puzzled expression, and taking him by the hand, "I must go and send my message to Mr. Hendrie."

CHAPTER XIV

THE STRIKE

Angus looked up into the faces of the three men standing beyond his roll-top desk, which was littered with dust and debris such as no man accustomed to office work could have tolerated. But Angus was no office man. He hated the place, and only used it when his work obliged him to.

Just now he was glad of it. He was glad of its support in dealing with affairs such as were confronting him at the moment. It helped him to an air which he felt to be necessary. Full well he knew the awe of a roll-top desk for these sons of the soil.

Now he leaned back in his chair, and his cold eyes glanced deliberately at each man's face in turn. They were russet-hued faces, bearded and unkempt. They were the faces of men strong in muscle if simple of mind.

They were three of his farm hands, and each one had served under his guidance for many years. They were competent, skilled machinists, whose thought was only for their work and their weekly wage.

Angus knew them well, for willing, hard-working men, with a weakness only for taking things easy on Monday mornings, and an invincible desire to reach the Russell Hotel bar punctually at one o'clock on Sat.u.r.day afternoons.

Secretly he regretted the interview; outwardly he was roughly indifferent.

The men stood silent and uncomfortable under his scrutiny, but a surly truculence was in their eyes as they endeavored to return his stare.

"So this is your--ultimatum," the manager said at last, with something of his best snarling grouch in his harsh voice. "Mr. Hendrie's got to cut out one hundred and eighty-three n.i.g.g.e.rs from this place, all slap-up workers, who don't break up every blamed machine they put their hands on, because you white boys are kicking at their color." One of the men made a movement as though about to interrupt, but Angus silenced him with a gesture. "Hold on," he cried. "Guess I listened to you all you needed. I hadn't a word while you boys were ga.s.sing. Now I need to do some talk. Seein' I'm busy I'm not going to waste my time on you. So just get this, and get it good and quick. I'm running this layout. I'm paying you your wages. I'm boss. I'll run the place as I see fit. If you don't like it you can go--to h.e.l.l!"

"They're undercuttin' us in price," cried one of the men, with an oath.

"They're being paid the same wages as you are--according to their cla.s.s of work," retorted Angus sharply.

"Then they've no right to it, they're bl---- n.i.g.g.e.rs," cried the same man.