The Right Man
I"He hasn't proposed, then?""No; he hasn't." A pause; then, reluctantly: "I haven't given him theopportunity.""Violet! Do you want to starve?"The speaker turned in his chair, and looked at the girl bending over thefire, with a quick, impatient frown on his handsome face. They weretwins, these two, the only representatives of a family that had beenwealthy three generations before them, but whose resources had dwindledsteadily under the management of three successive spendthrifts, and hadfinally disappeared altogether in a desperate speculation which hadpromised to restore everything."You don't seem to realise," the young man said, "that we are absolutelypenniless--destitute. Everything is sunk in this Winhalla Railwayscheme, up to the last penny. It seemed a gorgeous chance at the time.It ought to have brought in thousands. It would have done, too, if ithad been properly supported. But it's no good talking about that. It'sjust a gigantic failure, or, if it ever does succeed, it will come toolate to help us. Just our infernal luck! And now the question is, whatis going to be done? You'll have to marry that fellow, Violet. It'sabsolutely the only thing for you to do. And I--I suppose I mustemigrate."The girl did not turn her head. There was something tense about herattitude."I could emigrate too, Jerry," she said, in a low voice."You!" Her brother turned more fully round. "You!" he said again. "Areyou mad, I wonder?"She made a slight gesture of protest."Why shouldn't I?" she said. "At least, we should be together."He uttered a grim laugh, and rose."Look here, Violet," he said, and took her lightly by the shoulders."Don't be a little fool! You know as well as I do that you weren't madeto rough it. The suggestion is so absurd that it isn't worth discussion.You'll have to marry Kenyon. It's as plain as daylight; and I only wishmy perplexities were as easily solved. Come! He isn't such a bad sort;and, anyhow, he's better than starvation."The girl stood up slowly and faced him. Her eyes were wild, like theeyes of a hunted creature."I hate him, Jerry! I hate him!" she declared vehemently."Nonsense!" said Jerry. "He's no worse than a hundred others. You'd hateany one under these abominable circumstances!"She shuddered, as if in confirmation of this statement."I'd rather do anything," she said; "anything, down to selling matchesin the gutter.""Which isn't a practical point of view," pointed out Jerry. "You wouldget pneumonia with the first east wind, and die.""Well, then, I'd rather die." The girl's voice trembled with theintensity of her preference. But her brother frowned again at the words."Don't!" he said abruptly. "For Heaven's sake, don't be unreasonable!Can't you see that it's my greatest worry to get you provided for? Youmust marry. You can't live on charity."Her cheeks flamed."But I can work," she began. "I can----"He interrupted her impatiently."You can't. You haven't the strength, and probably not the abilityeither. It's no use talking this sort of rot. It's simply silly, andmakes things worse for both of us. It's all very well to say you'drather starve, but when it comes to starving, as it will--as itmust--you'll think differently. Look here, old girl: if you won't marrythis fellow for your own sake, do it for mine. I hate it just as much asyou do. But it's bearable, at least. And--there are some things I can'tbear."He stopped. She was clinging to him closely, beseechingly; but he stoodfirm and unyielding, his young face set in hard lines."Will you do it?" he said, as she did not speak."Jerry!" she said imploringly.He stiffened to meet the appeal he dreaded. But it did not come. Hereyes were raised to his, and she seemed to read there the futility ofargument. She remained absolutely still for some seconds, then abruptlyshe turned from him and burst into tears."Don't! don't!" he said.He stepped close to her, as she leaned upon the mantelpiece, all thehardness gone from his face. Had she known it, the battle at that momentmight have been hers; for he would have insisted no longer. He was onthe brink of abandoning the conflict. But her anguish of weepingpossessed her to the exclusion of everything else."Oh, Jerry, go away!" she sobbed passionately. "You're a perfect beast,and I'm another! But I'll do it, I'll do it--for your sake, as I woulddo anything in the world, though it's quite true that I'd ratherstarve!"And Jerry, rather pale, but otherwise complete master of himself, pattedher shoulder with a hasty assumption of kindly approval; and told herthat he had always known she was a brick.
II"Heaven knows I don't aspire to be any particular ornament to society,"said Dick Kenyon modestly. "Never have; though I've been pretty welleverything else that you can think of, from cow-puncher to millionaire.And I can tell you there's a dashed deal more fun in being the firstthan the last of those. Still, I think I could make you comfortable ifyou would have me; though, if you don't want to, just say so, and I'llshunt till further notice."It was thus that he made his proposal to the girl of his choice; and noone, hearing it, would have guessed that beneath his calm, evenphlegmatic, exterior, the man was in a ferment of anxiety. He spoke witha slight nasal twang that seemed to emphasise his deliberation, and hisface was mask-like in its composure. Of beauty he had none.His eyes were extraordinarily blue, but the lids drooped over them soheavily that his expression was habitually drowsy, even stolid. Inbuild, he was short and thick-set, like a bulldog; and there seemed tobe something of a bulldog's strength in the breadth of his chest, thoughthere was no hint of energy about him to warrant its development.The girl he addressed did not look at him. She sat perfectly still, withher hands fast clasped together, and her eyes, wide and despairing,fixed upon the fire in front of her. She was wondering desperately howlong she could possibly endure it. Yet his last words were somehow notwhat she had expected from this man whose manner always seemed to hintthat at least half of creation was at his sole disposal. They expresseda consideration on his part that she had been far from anticipating. Hewaited for an interval of several seconds for her to speak. He wasstanding up on the hearthrug, his ill-proportioned figure thrown intostrong relief by the firelight behind him. At last, as she quite failedto answer him, he drew a pace nearer to her."Don't mind me, Miss Trelevan," he said, in a drawl so exaggerated thatshe thought it must be intentional. "Take your time. There's no hurry.I've always thought it was a bit hard on a woman to expect her to answeran offer of marriage offhand. Perhaps you'd rather write?""No," she said, rather breathlessly. "No!" Then, after a pause, stillmore breathlessly: "Won't you sit down?"He stepped away from her again, to her infinite relief, and sat down acouple of yards away.There ensued a most painful silence, during which the battle in thegirl's heart raged fiercely. Then at length she took her resolution inboth hands, and faced him. He was not looking at her. He sat quitestill, and she fancied that his eyes were closed; but when she spoke heturned his head, and she realised that she had been mistaken."I can give you your answer now," she said, making the greatest effortof her life. "It is--it is--yes."She rose with the words, almost as if in preparation for headlongflight. But Dick Kenyon kept his seat. He leaned forward a little, hisblue eyes lifted to her face."Your final word, Miss Trelevan?" he asked her, in his cool, easy twang.She wrung her hands together with an unconscious gesture of despair."Yes," she said; and added feverishly: "of course.""You think you've met the right man?" he pursued, his tone one of gentleinquiry, as if he were speaking to a child.She nodded. She was white to the lips."Yes," she said again.He got up then with extreme deliberation."Well," he said, a curious smile flickering about his mouth, "that'sabout the biggest surprise I've ever had. And I don't mind telling youso. Sure now that you're not making a mistake?"She uttered a little laugh that sounded hysterical."Oh, don't!" she said. "Don't! I have given you my answer!""And I'm to take you seriously?" questioned Kenyon. "Very well. I will.But you mustn't be frightened."He stretched out a steady hand, and laid it on her shoulder. Shequivered at his touch, but she did not attempt to resist."Don't be scared," he said very gently. "I know I'm as ugly as blazes;at least, I've been told so, but there's nothing else to alarm you ifyou can once get over that."There was a note of quaint raillery in his voice. He did not try to drawher to him. Yet she was conscious of a strength that did battle with herhalf-instinctive aversion--a strength that might have compelled, butpreferred to attract.Unwillingly, at length, she looked at him, meeting his eyes,good-humouredly critical, watching her."I am not frightened," she said, with an effort. "It's only that--justat first--till I get used to it--it feels rather strange."There was unconscious pleading in her voice. He took his hand from hershoulder, looking at her with his queer, speculative smile."I don't want to hustle you any," he said. "But if that's all thetrouble, I guess I know a remedy."Violet drew back sharply."Oh, no!" she said. "No!"She was terrified for the moment lest he should desire to put his remedyto the test. But he made no movement in her direction, and another sortof misgiving assailed her."Don't be vexed," she said unsteadily. "I--I know I'm despicable. But Ishall get over it--if you will give me time.""Bless your heart, I'm not vexed," said Kenyon. "I'm only wondering,don't you know, how you brought yourself to say 'Yes' to me. But nomatter, dear. I'm grateful all the same."He held out his hand to her, and she laid hers nervously within it. Shecould not meet his eyes any longer.Kenyon stooped and put his lips to her cold fingers."Jove!" he said softly. "I'm in luck to-day."And after that he sat down again, and began to behave like an ordinaryvisitor.
III"Great Scotland!" said Jerry.He looked up from a letter, and gazed at his sister with starting eyes."Oh, what?" she exclaimed in alarm.He sprang up impetuously, and went round the table to her. They werebreakfasting in the tiny flat which was theirs for but three shortmonths longer."Guess!" he said. "No, don't! I can't wait. It's the family luck, oldgirl, turned at last! It's the original gorgeous chance again with apractical dead certainty pushing behind. It's the Winhalla Railwayturning up trumps just in time."And, with a whoop that might have been heard from garret to basement,Jerry swept his sister from her chair, and waltzed her giddily round thelittle room till she cried breathlessly for mercy."Oh, but do tell me!" she gasped, when he set her down again. "I want tounderstand, Jerry. Don't be so mad. Tell me exactly what has happened!""I'll tell you," said Jerry, sitting down on the tablecloth. "It's aletter from Gardner--my broker and man of business generally--writtenlast night to tell me that one of these swaggering capitalists has gothold of the Winhalla Railway scheme, and is going to make things hum.Shares are going up already; and they'll run sky high by the end of theweek. It's bound to be all right. It was always sound enough. It onlywanted capital. He doesn't tell me the bounder's name, but that's nomatter. I don't want to go into partnership. I shall sell, sell, sell,at the top of the boom. Gardner's to be trusted. He'll know--andthen--and then----""Yes; what does it mean?" the girl broke in. "I want to know exactly,Jerry!""Mean?" he echoed, his hands upon her shoulders. "It means emancipation,wealth, everything we've lost back again, and more to it! Now do youunderstand?"She gasped for breath. She had turned very pale."Oh, Jerry!" she said tragically. "Jerry, why didn't this happenbefore?"He stared at her for a moment. Then, as understanding came to him, hefrowned with swift impatience."Oh, that must be broken off!" he said. "You can't marry that fellownow. Why should you?"Violet shook her head hopelessly."I've promised," she said; "promised to marry him at the end of nextmonth."Jerry jumped up impulsively."But that's soon arranged," he declared. "Leave it to me. I'll explain.""How can you?" questioned Violet."I shall put it on a purely business footing," he returned airily."Don't you worry yourself. He isn't the sort of chap to take it toheart. You know that as well as I do. Perhaps it might be as well towait till the end of the week and make sure of things, though, before Isay anything."But at this point Violet gave him the biggest surprise he had everknown. She sprang to her feet with flashing eyes."Indeed you won't, Jerry!" she exclaimed. "You will tell himto-day--this morning--and end it definitely. Never mind what happensafterwards. I won't carry the dishonourable bargain to that length. I'velittle enough self-respect left, but what there is of it I'll keep!""Heavens above!" ejaculated Jerry, in amazement. "What's the matter now?I was only thinking of you, after all.""I know you were," she answered passionately. "But you're to think ofsomething greater than my physical welfare. You're to think of mymiserable little rag of honour, and do what you can for that, if youreally want to help me!"And with that she went quickly from the room and left him to breakfastalone.He marvelled for a little at her agitation, and then the contents of theletter absorbed him again. He had better go and see Gardner, hereflected; and then, if the thing really seemed secure, he would takeDick Kenyon on his way back--perhaps lunch with him, and explain mattersin a friendly way. There was certainly nothing for Violet to make a fussabout. He was quite fully convinced that the fellow wouldn't care.Marriage was a mere incident to men of his stamp.So, cheerily at length, having disposed of his breakfast, he rose,collected his correspondence, which consisted for the most part ofbills, and, whistling light-heartedly, took his departure.
IV"Now," said Dick Kenyon, in his easy, self-assured accents, "sit downright there, sonny, and tell me what's on your mind."He pressed Jerry into his most comfortable chair with hospitable force.Jerry submitted, because he could not help himself, rather than fromchoice. Patronage from Dick Kenyon was something of an offence to hisever-ready pride.As for Dick, he had not apparently the smallest suspicion of any latentresentment of this nature in his visitor's mind. He brought out a box ofchoice cigars, and set them at Jerry's elbow. They had just lunchedtogether at Kenyon's rooms; and it had been quite obvious to the latterthat Jerry had been preoccupied throughout the meal.Having furnished his guest with everything he could think of to ensurehis comfort, he proceeded deliberately to provide for his own.Jerry was not quite at his ease. He sat with the unlighted cigar betweenhis fingers, considering with bent brows. Kenyon looked at him at lastwith a faint smile."If I didn't know it to be an impossibility," he said, "I should say youwere shying at something."Jerry turned towards him with an air of resolution."Look here, Kenyon," he said, in his slightly superior tones, "I havereally come to talk to you about your engagement to my sister."He paused, aware of a change in Kenyon's expression, but wholly unableto discover of what it consisted."What about it?" said Kenyon.He was on his feet, searching the mantelpiece for an ash-tray. His facewas turned from Jerry, but could he have seen it fully, it would havetold him nothing.Jerry went on, with a strong effort to maintain his ease of manner:"We've been thinking it over, and we have come to the conclusion thatperhaps, after all, it was a mistake. In short, my sister has thoughtbetter of it; and, as she is naturally sensitive on the subject, Iundertook to tell you so, I don't suppose it will make any particulardifference to you. There are plenty of girls who would jump at thechance of marrying your millions. But, of course, if you wish it, somecompensation could be made."Jerry paused again. He had placed the matter on the most businesslikefooting that had occurred to him. Of course, the man must realise thathe was a rank outsider, and would understand that it was the bestmethod.Kenyon heard him out in dead silence. He had found the ash-tray, but hedid not turn his head. After several dumb seconds, he walked across theroom to the window, and stood there. Finally he spoke."I don't suppose," he said, in his calm, expressionless drawl, "that youhave ever had a cowhiding in your life, have you?""What?" said Jerry.He stared at Kenyon in frank amazement. Was the man mad?"Never had a cowhiding in your life, eh?" repeated Kenyon, withoutmoving."What do you mean?" exclaimed Jerry.Kenyon remained motionless."I mean," he said calmly, "that I've thrashed a man to a pulp before nowfor a good deal less than you have just offered me. It's my specialtreatment for curs. Suits 'em wonderfully. And suits me, too."Jerry sprang to his feet in a whirl of wrath, but before he could uttera word Kenyon suddenly turned."Go back to your sister," he said, in curt, stern tones, "and tell herfrom me that I will discuss this matter with her alone. If she intendsto throw me over, she must come to me herself and tell me so. Go now!"But Jerry stood halting between an open blaze of passion and equallyopen discomfiture. He longed to hurl defiance in Kenyon's face, but somehidden force restrained him. There was that about the man at that momentwhich compelled submission. And so, at length, he turned without anotherword, and walked straight from the room with as fine a dignity as hecould muster. By some remarkable means, Dick Kenyon had managed to getthe best of the encounter.
VNot the next day, nor the next, did Violet Trelevan summon up courage toface her outraged lover, and ask for her freedom. Jerry did not tell herprecisely what had passed, but she gathered from the information hevouchsafed that Kenyon had not treated the matter peaceably. Shewondered a little how Jerry had approached it, and told herself with abeating heart that she would have to take her own line of action.Nevertheless, for a full week she did nothing, and at the end of thatweek the flutter in the Winhalla Railway shares had subsided completely,and all Jerry's high hopes were dead. From day to day he had tried toconsole himself and her with the reflection that a speculation of thatsort was bound to fluctuate, but, in the end, when the shares went downto zero, he was forced to own that he had been too sanguine. It had beenbut the last flicker before extinction. The capitalist had evidentlythought better of risking his money on such a venture."And I was a gaping, weak-kneed idiot not to sell for what I could get!"he told his sister. "But it's just our luck. I might have known nothingdecent could ever happen to us!"It was on that evening, when the outlook was at its blackest, thatViolet wrote at last, without consulting Jerry, to the man in whosehands lay her freedom.It was a short epistle, and humbly worded, for she realised that this,at least, was his due."I want you," she wrote, "to forgive me, if you can, for the wrong Ihave done you, and to set me free. I accepted you upon impulse, I amashamed to say, for the sake of your money. But the shame would be evengreater if I did not tell you so. I do not know what view you will take,but my own is that, in releasing me, you will not lose anything that isworth having."The answer to this appeal came the next day by hand:"May I see you alone at your flat at five o'clock?"She had not expected it, and she felt for an instant as if a master handhad touched her, sending the blood tingling through her veins like fire.She sent a reply in the affirmative; and then set herself to face thelongest day she had ever lived through.She sat alone during the afternoon, striving desperately to nerveherself for the ordeal. But strive as she might, the fact remained thatshe was horribly, painfully frightened. There was something about thisman which it seemed futile to resist, something that dominated her,something against which it hurt her to fight.She heard his ring punctually upon the stroke of five, and she wentherself to answer it.He greeted her with his usual serenity of manner."All alone?" he asked, as he followed her into the little drawing-roomin which he had proposed to her so short a time before.She assented nervously."Jerry went into the city. He won't be back yet.""That's kind of you," said Kenyon quietly.She did not ask him to sit down. They faced each other on the hearthrug.The strong glare of the electric light showed him that she was verypale.Abruptly he thrust out his hand to her."You must forgive me for bullying your brother the other day," he said."Really, he deserved it."She glanced up quickly."Jerry doesn't understand," she said.He kept his hand outstretched though she did not take it."I don't understand, either," he said."Do you really want to shake hands with me?" she murmured, her voicevery low."I want to hold your hand in mine, if I may," he answered simply. "Ithink it will help to solve the difficulty. Thank you! Yes; I thoughtyou were trembling. Now, why, I wonder?"She did not answer him. Her head was bent."Don't!" he said gently. "There is no cause. Didn't I tell you I wouldshunt if you didn't want me?"Still she was silent, her hand lying passive in his."Come!" he said. "I want to understand, don't you know. That note ofyours. You say in it that you accepted me for the sake of my money. Evenso. But I reckon that is more a reason for sticking to me than forthrowing me over."He paused, but her head only drooped a little lower."Doesn't that reason still exist?" he asked her, point blank.She shivered at the direct question, but she answered it."Yes; it does. And that's why I'm ashamed to go on.""Why ashamed?" he asked. "How do you know my reason for wanting to marryyou is as good since I never told you what it was?"She looked up then, suddenly and swiftly, and caught a curious glint inthe blue eyes that watched her."I do know," she said, speaking quickly, impulsively. "And that's why--Ican't bear--that you should despise me.""Ah!" he said. "Do you really care what an outsider like myself thinksof you?"The colour flamed suddenly in her white face, but he went on in hisquiet drawl as if he had not seen it:"If I thought it was for your happiness, believe me, I would set youfree. But, so far, you haven't given me any reason that could justifysuch a step. Can't you think of one? Honestly, now?"She shook her head. Her eyes were full of blinding tears."What is it, then?" urged Kenyon. And suddenly his voice was as soft asa woman's. "Has the right man turned up unexpectedly, after all? Is itfor his sake?""Oh, don't!" she cried passionately. "Don't! You hurt me!"And, turning sharply from him, she hid her face, and broke intoanguished weeping.Kenyon stood quite still for perhaps ten seconds; then he moved close toher, and put his arm round the slight, sobbing figure.She did not start or attempt to resist him."There, there!" he whispered soothingly. "I knew there was a reason.Don't cry, dear! It will be all right--all right. Never mind the beastlymoney. There's going to be a big boom in the Winhalla Railway shares,and you'll make your fortune over it. Yes; I know all about that. Afriend told me. There's a big capitalist pushing behind. They have gonedown this week, but they are going to rise like a spring tide next. Andthen--you'll be free to marry the right man, eh, dear? I sha'n't standin your way. I'll even come and dance at the wedding, if you'll haveme."She uttered a muffled laugh through her tears, and turned slightlytowards him within the encircling arm."I hope you will," she murmured. "Because--because--" She broke off, andbecame silent.Dick Kenyon's arm did not slacken."If you could make it convenient to finish that sentence of yours, I'dbe real grateful," he observed, at length.She lifted her face from her hands, and looked him in the eyes. Her ownwere shining."Because," she said unsteadily, "I couldn't marry the right man--if youweren't there."He looked straight back at her without a hint of emotion in his heavyeyes."Quite sure of that?" he asked.And she laughed again tremulously as she made reply."Quite sure, Dick," she said softly, "though I've only just found itout."* * * * *Jerry, tearing in a little later, brimful of city news, noticed that hissister's face was brighter than usual, but failed, in his excitement, toperceive a visitor in the room, the visitor not troubling himself torise at his entrance."News, Vi!" he shouted. "Gorgeous news! The Winhalla Railway is turningup trumps! The shares are simply flying up. I told Gardner I'd sell atfifty, but he says they are worth holding on to, for they'll go abovethat. He vows they're safe. And who do you think is the capitalistthat's pushing behind? Why, Kenyon!"He broke off abruptly at this point as Kenyon himself arose leisurelywith a serene smile and outstretched hand."Exactly--Kenyon!" he said. "But if you think he's a rank bad speculatorlike yourself, sonny, you're mistaken. I didn't make my money that way,and I don't reckon to lose it that way either. But Gardner's right.Those shares are safe. They aren't going down again ever any more."He turned to the girl on his other side, and laid his free hand on hershoulder."And I guess you'll forgive me for distressing you," he said, "when Itell you why I did it.""Well, why, Dick?" she questioned, her face turned to his."I just thought I'd like to know, dear," he drawled, "if there wasn'tsomething bigger than money to be got out of this deal. And--are youlistening, Jerry?--I found there was!"
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