No, 
 
 Date
 
 THIS BOOK 
 
 is the Property of ^ 
 
 E,J, DUBOIS
 
 JUGGERNAUT 
 
 a IDeileb Itecorfc 
 
 BY 
 
 GEORGE GARY EGGLESTON 
 
 AND 
 
 DOLORES MARBOURG 
 
 NEW YORK 
 FORDS, HOWARD, HULBERT
 
 PS 
 
 COPYRIGHT IN 1891, BY 
 GEORGE GARY EGGLESTON 
 
 AND 
 
 DOLORES MARBOURG 
 
 A II Rights Reserved
 
 Go flftafcame
 
 J 
 
 UGGERNAUT: 
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 
 
 I. 
 
 EDGAR BRAINE was never so blithe in all 
 his life as on the morning of his suicide. 
 
 Years after, in the swirl and tumult of his 
 extraordinary career, the memory of that June 
 morning, and of the mood in which he greeted 
 it, would rush upon him as a flood, and for 
 the moment drown the eager voices that be 
 sought his attention, distracting his mind for 
 the briefest fraction of an instant from the 
 complex problems of affairs with which he 
 wrestled ceaselessly. 
 
 In the brief moment during which he 
 allowed the vision of a dead past thus to in 
 vade his mind, he would recall every detail of 
 that morning with photographic accuracy, and 
 more than photographic vividness. 
 
 In such moments, he saw himself young, 
 but with a mature man s ambition, and more
 
 JUGGERNA UT: 
 
 than the strength of a man, as he strode 
 sturdily down the streets of the little Western 
 city, the June sunshine all about him in a 
 golden glory, while the sunshine within ex 
 ceeded it a hundredfold. 
 
 His mood was exultant, and with reason. 
 He had already conquered the only obstacles 
 that barred his way to success and power. 
 He had impressed himself upon the minds of 
 men, in a small way as yet, to be sure, but 
 sufficiently to prove his capacity, and confirm 
 his confidence in his ability to conquer, whith 
 ersoever he might direct his march. 
 
 Life opened its best portals to him. He 
 was poor, but strong and well equipped. He 
 had won possession of the tools with which to 
 do his work ; and the conquest of the tools is 
 the most difficult task set the man who con 
 fronts life armed only with his own abilities. 
 That accomplished, if the man be worthy, the 
 rest follows quite as a matter of course, an 
 effect flowing from an efficient cause. 
 
 Edgar Braine had proved to himself that he 
 possessed superior capacities. He had long 
 entertained that opinion of his endowment, 
 but his caution in self-estimate was so great 
 that he had been slower than any of his ac 
 quaintances to accept the fact as indisputably 
 proved.
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 
 
 It had been proved, however, and that was 
 cause enough for rejoicing, to a mind which 
 had tortured itself from boyhood with unutter 
 able longings for that power over men which 
 superior intellect gives, a mind that had 
 dreamed high dreams of the employment of 
 such power for human progress. 
 
 His was not an ambition achieved. It was 
 that immeasurably more joyous thing, an am 
 bition in sure process of achievement. 
 
 But this was not his only cause of joy. 
 Love, as well as life, had smiled upon him, 
 and the woman who had subdued all that was 
 noblest in. him to that which was still nobler 
 in her, was presently to be his wife. 
 
 And so Edgar Braine s heart sang merrily 
 within him as he strode through the cotton- 
 wood-bordered streets toward his editorial 
 work-shop. 
 
 He entered the composing-room in front, 
 and greeted the foreman with even more of 
 cordiality than was his custom, though his 
 custom was a cordial one. 
 
 He tried not to observe that Mikey Hagin, 
 the Spartan-souled apprentice of the establish 
 ment, was complacently burning a hole in the 
 palm of his hand, in a heroic endeavor to hide 
 the fact that he had been smoking a cigarette 
 in risk of that instant discharge which Braine
 
 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 had threatened as the fore-ordained punish 
 ment of that crime, if he should ever catch 
 the precocious youth committing it again. 
 
 He saw the cigarette, of course, it was his 
 habit to see things, and the blue wreath 
 floating upward from the hand in which a 
 hasty attempt had been made to conceal it, 
 was perfectly apparent. But his humor was 
 much too joyous for him to enforce the pen 
 alty, though he had decreed it with a fixed 
 purpose to enforce it. Somehow the grief of 
 Mrs. Hagin, Mikey s mother and Braine s 
 laundress, at the discharge of her not over 
 hopeful son, was much more vividly present to 
 his imagination this morning than when he 
 had promulgated the decree. He was too 
 happy a man to be willing to make any human 
 being needlessly unhappy. 
 
 And yet he was too strict a disciplinarian to 
 overlook the offence entirely. He turned to 
 the boy and said : 
 
 " It is lucky for you that I didn t catch you 
 smoking the cigarette you have in your hand. 
 As it seems to be smoking you instead, I don t 
 so much mind." 
 
 With this, as the lad threw the burning roll 
 into a barrel of waste paper which he pres 
 ently extinguished with a bucket of water 
 Braine took the over-proofs from their hook,
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 5 
 
 and passed on into the back room, which 
 served as the editorial office of the Thebes 
 Daily Enterprise. 
 
 The four men sitting there presented but 
 one bodily presence. They were : the Local 
 Editor, the River Editor, the Society Editor, 
 and " Our Reporter," and their name was 
 Moses Harbell, or, if universal usage is author 
 ity in nomenclature, " Mose " Harbell. 
 
 Mose was a bushy-haired man of fifty, who 
 had been Local Editor, River Editor, Society 
 Editor, and "Our Reporter" on the news 
 papers of small river towns from a time 
 whereof the memory of man runneth not to 
 the contrary. 
 
 He had never once dared aspire to a more 
 independent position as his own master. Per 
 haps the fact that he had imprudently married 
 early, and now had a family consisting of a 
 mother, a mother-in-law, an imbecile sister, a 
 shrewish wife, nine children in various stages of 
 progress toward grown-up-hood, and four dogs 
 of no recognized breed, had dampened the ardor 
 of his ambition, and inclined him to the con 
 servative view that to draw a salary from 
 somebody else, even though it be not a munifi 
 cent one, is on the whole safer for a prudent 
 family man, than to take ambitious risks on 
 his own account.
 
 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 Mose was known all up and down the river 
 by his first name in its abbreviated form, and 
 by no other on any occasion. He was never 
 spoken of in print without the adjective prefix 
 "genial," and he never omitted to call any 
 body " genial " whom he had occasion to men 
 tion in his own paragraphs, from the morose 
 curmudgeon who invited everybody in town to 
 his parties except Mose himself, to the most 
 ill-natured mud clerk who stood in the rain on 
 the levee at midnight to check freight received 
 by the steamboat that employed him in that 
 capacity, at nothing a month and his board. 
 
 Life had dealt rather hardly with Mose, but 
 it had not succeeded in curdling any of the 
 milk of human kindness mingled with his 
 blood. 
 
 His notion of newspaper editing, apart from 
 calling everybody " genial," was to mention 
 everybody on every possible occasion, to praise 
 everybody without regard to the possibility or 
 impossibility of the occasion, and to chronicle 
 the personal happenings of the town after the 
 following fashion : 
 
 " Ned Heffron, the genial ticket dispenser of the Cen 
 tral Railroad, borrowed a boiled shirt yesterday, got his 
 boots blacked on tick, and started on a free pass to 
 Johnsonboro, there to wed the acknowledged belle of that
 
 young and thriving city. Miss Blankety Blank, who will 
 henceforth be a chief ornament to the society of 
 Thebes." 
 
 Mose was a thorn in the flesh of his young 
 chief, who was a very earnest person, pos 
 sessed of a conviction that a newspaper owes 
 some sort of duty to the public, and that its 
 province is to discriminate somewhat in the 
 bestowal of praise and blame. But Mose was 
 necessary to the Thebes Daily Enterprise. 
 Braine could not afford to dispense with his 
 " geniality " as a part of the newspaper s 
 equipment ; for Mose knew everybody within 
 the Daily Enterprise s bailiwick and everybody 
 knew Mose. Everybody made haste to tell 
 Mose all the news there might be ; and, al 
 though there was not much of importance in 
 what he gathered, still it was news, and the 
 news seemed to Braine a necessary part of 
 a newspaper. Thus it happened that Mose 
 went on calling everybody " genial " in the 
 news department, even when his chief was 
 excoriating the same persons in the editorial 
 columns for conduct wholly inconsistent with 
 Mose s imputation of unbounded geniality. 
 
 On this particular morning, however, the 
 morning of Edgar Braine s suicide even 
 Mose s presence, recalling, as it always did, 
 his exasperating methods, could not ruffle the
 
 8 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 young man s exultant spirits. He was so ex 
 uberantly happy that he omitted to remon 
 strate with Mose about anything, and that 
 tireless manufacturer of praise, observing the 
 omission, immediately wrote and sent to the 
 composing-room an elephantinely playful para 
 graph in which he said : 
 
 " Our genial chief was so much pleased this morning 
 over the impression made yesterday by his apparently 
 severe, but really good-natured leader on the recent de 
 falcation of our genial city clerk, Charley Hymes, that 
 he took the local to his arms and stood treat to a num 
 ber-one mackerel, and the ever appreciative local picked 
 the bones of the aforesaid saline preserved denizen of 
 the deep, in the bosom of his family at dinner to-day." 
 
 That was Mose Harbell s idea of humor. 
 It was not Braine s idea of humor at all, and 
 so Mose was greeted with the harshest reproof 
 he had ever received in his life when he 
 next met his chief. He accepted it " gen 
 ially." 
 
 Having sent out the offending paragraph, 
 Mose went out himself to gather river news, 
 and such gossip as he might, concerning the 
 genial folk of Thebes. 
 
 Then Abner Hildreth entered the office, and 
 for two hours was closeted with Braine. 
 
 Then Braine committed suicide.
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 
 
 Then he wrote his own obituary, to be 
 printed in that evening s Enterprise. 
 
 Then he went supperless to his room over a 
 store, where he paced the floor till dawn. 
 
 Then began the man s extraordinary career.
 
 I o JUGGERNA UT: 
 
 II. 
 
 WHEN Braine returned to his bare little 
 room after his suicide, he was in a strange, 
 paradoxical mood. His thought was intensely 
 introspective, and yet, with a whimsical per 
 versity, his mind seemed specially alert to 
 external objects, and full of fantastic imagin 
 ings concerning them. 
 
 The bareness of the room impressed him, 
 and he likened it to a cell in some prison. 
 
 " Never mind," he said to himself, " I may 
 have to sleep in a cell some time, and the 
 habit of living here will come handy." 
 
 Then, with a little laugh, in which there 
 was no trace of amusement, he stood before 
 his desk, and added : 
 
 " But I believe they don t put strips of worn 
 out carpet by the prison beds ; and I never 
 heard of a cell having a desk in it surmounted 
 by empty collar-boxes for pigeon holes. Let 
 me see six times five are thirty. What an
 
 A VEILED RECORD. I I 
 
 extravagant fellow I have been, to use up 
 thirty boxes of paper collars in a year! Ten 
 in a box, that s three hundred almost one a 
 day ! I might have done with half the num 
 ber by turning them, as I had to do at college 
 before paper collars came in. Psha ! " and he 
 seemed to spurn the trivial reverie from him 
 as a larger recollection surged up in his mind, 
 and he began to pace the little room again 
 with the purposeless tramp of a caged wild 
 beast, whose memory of the forest is only a 
 pained consciousness that it is his no more. 
 
 The June twilight faded into darkness, and 
 the evening gave place to midnight, but the 
 ghost-walk went ceaselessly on. 
 
 In those hours of agonizing thought, the 
 young man to be young no more henceforth 
 recalled every detail of his life with a vivid 
 ness which tortured him. He was engaged, 
 unwillingly, in obedience to a resistless im 
 pulse, in searching out the roots of his own 
 character, and finding out what forces had 
 made him such as he knew himself to be. 
 
 In the process he learned, for the first time, 
 precisely what sort of man he really was. He 
 saw his own soul undressed, and contemplated 
 its nakedness. One s soul is an unusual thing 
 to see en dJskabill/, and not always a pleasing 
 one.
 
 12 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 He remembered a letter his mother had 
 written him at college that mother of half 
 Scotch descent, and touched with Scottish 
 second-sight, who had silently studied his 
 character from infancy, and learned to com 
 prehend it not without fear. He could repeat 
 the letter word for word. It had given him 
 his first hint that he had a character, and a 
 duty to do with respect to it. He had cher 
 ished the missive for years, and had read it a 
 thousand times for admonition. Alas! how 
 poor a thing is admonition after all ! 
 
 " There is one danger point in your charac 
 ter, my son " he recalled the very look of the 
 cramped words on the page of blue-ruled letter 
 paper "where I have kept watch since you 
 lay in my arms as a baby, and where you must 
 keep watch hereafter. You have high aims and 
 strong convictions, and you mean to do right. 
 You will never be led astray by others you 
 are too obstinate for that. If you ever go 
 astray, you must take all the blame on your 
 own head. 
 
 "You are generous, and I never knew you to 
 do a meanly selfish thing in your life. And yet 
 your point of danger is selfishness of a kind. 
 I have observed you from infancy, and this is 
 what I have seen. Your desire to accomplish 
 your purposes is too strong. You are not held
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 13 
 
 back by any difficulty. You make any sacri 
 fice in pursuit of your ends. You use any 
 means you can find to carry your plans through, 
 and you are quick at finding means, or making 
 them when you want them. 
 
 " I was proud of the pluck you showed in 
 doing almost a slave s work for two years, be 
 cause you had made up your mind to go 
 through college. But I shuddered at the 
 thought of what such determination might 
 lead to. 
 
 " Oh ! my son, you will succeed in life. I 
 have no fear of that. But how ? Beware the 
 time when your purpose is strong, your desire 
 to succeed great, and the only weans at com 
 mand arc dishonest and degrading. That time 
 will come to you, be sure. When it comes you 
 must make a hard choice harder for you than 
 for another. You will then sacrifice a purpose 
 that it will seem like death to surrender or 
 you will commit moral suicide ! I shall not 
 live to sec you so tried ; but if I see you prac 
 tise giving up a little and trying to keep guard 
 at this weak place, I may learn before I die to 
 think of that hour of your trial without the 
 foreboding it gives me now." 
 
 That letter was the last his mother ever sent 
 him. It had been a consolation to him that be 
 fore death summoned her, she had at least read
 
 1 4 JUGGERNA UT: 
 
 his reply, assuring her of his determination 
 to maintain his integrity in all circumstances. 
 
 "You say truly," he wrote, " that I never 
 surrender a purpose or fail to carry it out. 
 Reflect, mother dear, that the strongest pur 
 pose I ever had is this to preserve my charac 
 ter. I will not fail to find means for that 
 when the time comes, as I never fail to accom 
 plish objects of less moment." 
 
 " The prophecy of the dear old mother is 
 fulfilled," he muttered, while his nails buried 
 themselves in his unconscious palms. " The 
 time she foresaw has come, and I have com 
 mitted suicide. Thank God the mother did 
 not live to see ! Thank God her vision was no 
 clearer ! She had hope for me at least. She 
 did not know."
 
 A VEILED RECORD. I 5 
 
 III. 
 
 As he called up pictures there in the dark, 
 Edgar Braine saw himself a little country boy 
 in Southern Indiana, growing strong in the 
 sweet, wholesome air of the river and the hills, 
 and torturing his young mind with questions 
 to which he could not comprehend the an 
 swers. 
 
 At first his questioning had to do with na 
 ture, whose wonders lay around him. He 
 wanted to know of the river, Whence it came, 
 and how ; he asked Wherefore, of the hills ; he 
 made friends of all growing things, and com 
 panions of those that had conscious life. 
 
 Then came his father s death to turn his 
 mind into new and darker chambers of inquiry, 
 and for a time he brooded, disposed, in loyalty 
 to that wisdom which age assumes, to accept 
 the conventional dogmas given to him by the 
 ignorance about him, as explanations of the 
 mysteries, but unable to conceal their absurd-
 
 1 6 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 ity from a mind whose instinct it was to stand 
 face to face with Doubt and to compel Truth 
 to lift her mask of seeming. 
 
 The loneliness of his life was good for him 
 for a time. It taught him to find a sufficient 
 companionship in his own mind a lesson 
 which all of us need, but few learn. But the 
 time came when his wise mother saw the ne 
 cessity of a change, and, scant as her resources 
 were, she took him to the little city of Jeffer 
 son, where the schools were good and com 
 panionship was to be found. 
 
 The city was at that time a beautiful corpse. 
 It had just died, and had not yet become con 
 scious of the fact. Ten or fifteen years before, 
 a railroad running from the State capital had 
 made its terminus at Jefferson, making the 
 river town the one outlet of the interior. A 
 great tide of travel passed through the place, and 
 a large trade centred there. But the course of 
 railroad development which gave the city life, 
 destroyed it later. Other railroads were built 
 through the interior to other river outlets, and 
 Cincinnati and Louisville took to themselves 
 what had been Jefferson s prosperity. 
 
 And so when Edgar Braine first knew the 
 town, it had lost its hold upon life, though it 
 had not yet found out what had happened to it. 
 The great rows of warehouses along the
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 1 7 
 
 levee, with the legends " Forwarding and Com 
 mission," " Groceries at Wholesale Only," 
 " Flour, Grain and Provisions," "Carriage Re 
 pository," and all the rest of it, staringly in 
 scribed upon their outer walls, were empty 
 now, and closed. In West Street, two only of 
 the once great wholesale houses maintained a 
 show of life. In one, an old man sat alone all 
 day, and contemplated three bags of coffee and 
 two chests of tea, for which no customer made 
 inquiry. In the other there remained unsold 
 half a ton of iron bars, and a few kegs of nails, 
 to justify the assertion of the signboard that 
 the proprietors were dealers in " Iron and 
 Nails." The two partners who owned the 
 place appeared there every morning, as regu 
 larly as when their sales were reckoned in six 
 figures. They were always scrupulously neat, 
 always courteously polite to each other, and 
 always as cheerful and contented a pair of busi 
 ness partners as one need desire to see. Why 
 not, seeing that they both liked the game of 
 checkers, and had nothing to do but sit in the 
 doorway and play from the beginning to the 
 end of " business hours " every day? 
 
 But the town did not realize its condition 
 yet. Weyer & McKee were putting up a 
 new and imposing building for the better ac 
 commodation of their wholesale grocery busi-
 
 1 8 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 ness, inattentive to the fact that their 
 wholesale grocery business had ceased to be. 
 Polleys & Butler were still issuing their 
 Market Bulletin for the information of their 
 "customers," not having yet realized that 
 their customers had permanently transferred 
 their custom to Cincinnati. In this interesting 
 little sheet they had not yet begun to discuss 
 " The Present Depression in Trade Its Cau se 
 and Cure." That came a little later. 
 
 The city was very well satisfied with itself. 
 It had water-works and gas, broad streets, and 
 comfortable houses in such abundance that 
 every family might have had two for the ask 
 ing. The people did not greatly mind their 
 loss of prosperity. Those who did mind had 
 already gone away ; those who remained had 
 succeeded, during the days of activity, in 
 getting out of other people enough to live 
 on comfortably, and were content to enjoy 
 leisure and occupy themselves with church 
 work and the like for the rest of their lives. 
 
 The boy did not discover that anything was 
 amiss with Jefferson until two or three years 
 after his arrival there. Having seen no other 
 city he did not observe that there was any 
 thing peculiar in the condition of this one, 
 until he saw a "to let" notice on the gor 
 geously decorated front of Fred Dubachs
 
 A VEILED RECORD, 1 9 
 
 " Paintery " and learned that Fred was about 
 to remove to Keokuk. Fred was a notably 
 expert painter, and the front of his shop had 
 always a strong fascination for Edgar. Fred 
 had lavished his best skill and industry upon 
 its ornamentation during the two or three 
 years since he had ceased to have any painting 
 to do for others. Now he had given up and 
 was going away. 
 
 The thing set the boy thinking. He re 
 flected that it would be a sad waste of time 
 and labor for Fred to paint any more signs for 
 a town which already had some thousands no 
 longer serving any useful purpose. As he fol 
 lowed out this suggestion it dawned upon him 
 that perhaps Jefferson was a city in decay, and 
 when he had questioned the matter a little fur 
 ther, the evidence all about him left no room 
 for doubt. 
 
 Then he went home and said to his mother: 
 " I will not live in Jefferson after I finish at 
 Hanover. This town is done for. I must have 
 opportunities, and there will never be any here." 
 
 But Jefferson s condition had been educating 
 him all the time, and shaping his character in 
 ways which affected all his future. He saw 
 this clearly now as he paced his room in 
 Thebes that night after the suicide, and re 
 called it all.
 
 2O JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 Among his schoolmates in Jefferson there 
 were some, the sons of vulgar people who had 
 grown rich in the rapid rise of the town. 
 These were mainly stupid and arrogant, and 
 their insolence was unceasing. At first it had 
 stung the sensitive boy to that kind of protest 
 which involves blows and bloody noses. 
 
 He was lithe of limb and strong, and he 
 usually managed to get a sufficient revenge in 
 that way to satisfy him. But something oc 
 curred at last to spoil the enjoyment he got 
 out of pommelling the young bullies, and to 
 show him that, with all his strength and agility, 
 he was meeting his adversaries on unequal 
 terms. He accidentally saw his mother toiling 
 late at night over the clothes in which he had 
 that day fought Cale Dodge to a finish. Cale, 
 he knew, would simply put on a new suit next 
 day. 
 
 " I will have no more fights of that kind," 
 he said to himself. Then, after a period of 
 silent thought, he said aloud : 
 
 " I have better weapons. I will show them 
 in class who is master." 
 
 From that hour the inattention to books 
 which had given his mother some uneasiness, 
 ceased. He mastered every lesson days before 
 it was assigned to him, and when an opportu 
 nity offered he submitted himself to examina-
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 21 
 
 tions in advance, and passed into the higher 
 grades of the high school, leaving his adversa 
 ries behind. 
 
 In this process he acquired two unquench 
 able thirsts the one for knowledge, the other 
 for power. He searched the town library for 
 books that might supplement the meagre in 
 struction of the schools. In his search for 
 knowledge he found culture. General litera 
 ture opened its treasures to him, and he read 
 everything, from Shakespeare to Burke s 
 Works, that the library could supply. 
 
 But while all this went on, his delight in his 
 superiority to the youths who had been inso- 
 lent to him, and were so still, crystallized more 
 and more into a great longing for power, and a 
 relentless determination to achieve it. Cost 
 what it might he must be great, and look down 
 upon these his foes. His ambition became a 
 passion, wild and unruly, but he resolutely 
 curbed it as one controls a spirited horse, and 
 for the same reason. He did not mean to let 
 the ambition run away with his life and wreck 
 it before the destination was reached. 
 
 In the little college ten miles away, when at 
 last he entered there, he was said to have no 
 ambition, because he lightly put aside the 
 petty prizes and honors for which others strug 
 gled so eagerly. His mates did not dream how
 
 22 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 ambitious he was. He was thinking of larger 
 things. There was a scholarship to be won, 
 and he took that, because it would spare him 
 his tuition fees ; but for the class and society 
 "honors" he cared not at all. 
 
 He made his own all of value that the col 
 lege libraries held and when the senior exami 
 nations were over he was without a rival near 
 him on that record of achievement which de 
 termines who shall be valedictorian. But he 
 placed no value on the empty honor so coveted 
 by others. A month remained before Com 
 mencement, and he had no mind to lose a 
 month. He said to the President : 
 
 " I am going away to-morrow. If you 
 choose to give me my degree please take care 
 of the diploma for me, if it is not too much 
 trouble. Perhaps I shall send for it some 
 day." 
 
 " But you are surely not going to leave be 
 fore Commencement ? " 
 
 " Why not ? I have got all I can out of col 
 lege. I can t afford to waste a month for noth 
 ing." 
 
 " But you are first-honor-man, Braine ! " 
 
 " Yes, so I hear. Give that to some one 
 who cares for it. I don t." 
 
 The next morning Edgar Braine quitted the 
 village on foot, and without returning to Jef-
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 
 
 ferson, passed out of the little world of youth 
 into the great world of manhood. His equip 
 ment consisted of his character, his education, 
 and fifty dollars. 
 
 He thought the character a good one then. 
 He revised his opinion as he paced the little 
 room in Thebes, and remembered.
 
 JUGGEKNA UT: 
 
 IV. 
 
 THE youth s sole thought when he walked 
 out into the world was to find opportunities 
 for exactly what, he neither knew nor greatly 
 cared. He knew himself possessed of power, 
 and he sought a chance to make it felt. He 
 was ambitious beyond measure, but he be 
 lieved his ambition to be safely under a curb 
 bit. He would achieve great things, but their 
 greatness should minister to the good of his 
 fellow men. 
 
 His selfishness was of that kind which looks 
 for its best satisfaction in self-sacrifice. He 
 would spend himself in the service of man 
 kind, and take his reward in seeing the results 
 of his labor. He had been bred to high con 
 ceptions of human conduct, and had filled his 
 mind with exalted principles. 
 
 It was for the exercise of powers thus 
 directed that he sought opportunities. He 
 would know what to do with them, he was
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 
 
 very sure, when they came. He selected 
 Thebes as the scene of his first endeavors 
 because it presented the completest possible 
 contrast to Jefferson. As Jefferson was a city 
 that had ceased to thrive, so Thebes was one 
 that was just about to begin to thrive, as its 
 citizens took pains to notify the rest of the 
 world. Braine wanted to help it thrive, and 
 share its thrift. 
 
 The bread-and-butter problem gave him no 
 trouble. Thebes had plenty of work to do in 
 getting ready to prosper, and Braine was pre 
 pared to do any work. The shrewd specula 
 tors who were engineering the town s scheme 
 of greatness, were quick enough to discover 
 the youth s capacities, as the race-course 
 speculator is to see the fine points of a horse. 
 In whatever fell to him to do he acquitted 
 himself so well that faith in " young Braine " 
 soon gave place to respectful admiration, and 
 Mose Harbell wrote numberless paragraphs in 
 the Thebes Daily Enterprise concerning " our 
 genial and gifted young townsman, Edgar 
 Braine," in which, for reasons that Mose could 
 not have explained, there was notably less of 
 the "genial" insolence of familiarity than was 
 common in Mose s literary productions. 
 When some one mentioned this in Mose s 
 presence, his reply was :
 
 26 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 " Well, somehow Braine isn t the sort of fel 
 low you feel like slapping on the back." 
 
 It was Abner Hildreth who first drew Braine 
 into relations with the Enterprise. 
 
 There was " one of Thebes s oldest and most 
 genial citizens "-Jack Summers by name 
 who, in addition to a mercantile business, 
 carried on a bank of the kind that opens in the 
 evening by preference, while Abner Hildreth, 
 in all his career as a banker, had preferred 
 daylight hours for business. 
 
 Jack Summers corrupted the youth of the 
 town, and when one promising young clerk in 
 the Express office was caught opening money 
 packages, his fall was clearly enough traced to 
 his losses in Summers s establishment. 
 
 Hildreth, as a banker and business man, 
 objected to gambling of that kind. He saw 
 how surely it must undermine the other kind 
 by destroying the trustworthiness of clerks 
 and cashiers. He deprecated it, also, as a 
 thing imperilling the young prosperity of 
 Thebes, in which his investments, as merchant, 
 banker, hotel proprietor, mill owner and the 
 like, were greater than those of any other ten 
 men combined, while even with the other ten 
 he was a silent partner so far as their ventures 
 seemed to him sound. 
 
 " The town mustn t get a hard name," he
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 2/ 
 
 said ; " Jack Summers must shut up his gam 
 bling shop, or get out of Thebes." 
 
 Then he sent for Edgar Braine. 
 
 "That young fellow," he reflected, "knows 
 how to write with vim, force, pathos, and 
 energy" a favorite phrase with Hildreth 
 " and he has sand in him too. He can skin 
 Summers, and rub aqua fortis into the raw, 
 and he ain t afraid to do it." 
 
 This latter point Hildreth knew to be 
 important. Jack Summers was a reckless per 
 son of whom most men in Thebes were 
 inclined to be somewhat in awe. He had 
 lived in the place when the only law there was 
 the will of the boldest, enforced with a pistol, 
 and he had not yet reconciled himself to 
 milder methods. 
 
 " I want you to score Jack Summers in the 
 Enterprise, Edgar." It was Hildreth s habit 
 to go straight to the marrow of his undertak 
 ings. " I want you to drive him out of town, or 
 compel him to shut up his den. He is ruining 
 all the boys*, and giving the town a bad name." 
 
 " But will Podauger let me?" asked Braine. 
 
 " Podauger " was the sobriquet by which 
 old Janus Leftwitch " Editor and Proprietor 
 of the Thebes Daily Enterprise" had come 
 to be known, by reason of the ponderous un- 
 readableness of his disquisitions.
 
 28 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 " Podauger be blessed ! (I never swear, 
 Braine.) I oivn Podauger. I can shut up his 
 office to-day if I want to, and assign him a 
 room in the poorhouse. He will print what I 
 tell him to, and Mose Harbell will keep quiet 
 too, when I tell him not to call Jack Sum 
 mers our genial fellow citizen again. The 
 only question is, will you write the articles? " 
 
 " I will, on one condition." 
 
 " I didn t think you would be afraid." 
 
 " I m not." 
 
 " What is the condition then ? " 
 
 " That I am to be let alone. I won t begin 
 a thing of that kind, and have it hushed up. 
 It must go clear through if I undertake it." 
 
 " That s right. I knew you had sand. You 
 may go ahead, and you shan t be stopped by 
 anybody unless Summers prepares your 
 corpse for the coroner. Have you thought of 
 that ? " 
 
 " I am not afraid. The cause is a good one. 
 That s all I ask." 
 
 " Very well. Now these articles must be 
 editorials. They ll have more weight that 
 way. Salivate the rascal every day, and I ll 
 back you up. You d better go armed, though, 
 in case Summers suspects who it is." 
 
 " I will take care of that. The first article 
 shall be ready in an hour."
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 29 
 
 And it was. Braine was too fresh from col 
 lege not to begin it with an allusion to Roman 
 history, but the people of Thebes were not 
 sufficiently familiar with the classics to resent 
 a reference of the kind. Besides, the allusion 
 was an apt one. It was a reference to the 
 Roman method of dealing with persons who 
 made themselves enemies of the State, and it 
 named Jack Summers as one who bore pre 
 cisely that relation to Thebes. 
 
 There was something like an earthquake in 
 the town that night. Never before had the 
 Enterprise been known to say a harsh thing or 
 a vigorous one, Podauger was never harsh in 
 utterance, lest he offend a subscriber or adver 
 tiser ; he was never vigorous, because he did 
 not know how to be so. The terror of Jack 
 Summers s displeasure was something that no 
 body in Thebes had ever before ventured to 
 brave, and what with surprise, apprehension, 
 and a looking-for of sensational results, the 
 little city was in a ferment throughout the 
 night. 
 
 Podauger had shut himself up in his room, 
 and barred his door before the newspaper 
 appeared on the streets. Not satisfied with 
 these precautions, he determined to send a flag 
 of truce to the enemy without delay. He 
 wrote in his tangled fashion :
 
 30 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 " DEAR MR. SUMMERS : 
 
 "I cannot rest till I have acquitted myself of all re 
 sponsibility for the outrageous assault upon the good 
 name and repute of a fellow-citizen for whom I entertain 
 so high a respect as I trust I have always manifested 
 toward you, which appeared or I should say, was made 
 this afternoon upon you in the newspaper of which I 
 am the unhappy, though till now the happy, Editor and 
 Proprietor. I cannot explain my situation in this affair 
 without a breach of confidence which would imperil my 
 present and future prosperity ; but I can assure you that 
 I had no more power to prevent this dastardly outrage, 
 or to shut the noisome stuff out of columns which I take 
 pride in remembering have always been courteous in 
 their treatment of my fellow Thebans, than you are I 
 mean than you had. 
 
 " I am deeply agitated, and perhaps my diction is not 
 as perspicuous as it is my proud endeavor to make it 
 when I am inditing matter for publication, but you can 
 make out this much, my dear and highly esteemed friend, 
 that I shall not seek my couch with any hope or prospect 
 of repose, until I receive from you an assurance that you 
 acquit me of responsibility, and won t ask me to make 
 an apology in the Enterprise, for reasons to which I 
 have already alluded in reference to my present and 
 temporary inability to control the conduct of that journal 
 in matters relating to this outrageous affair. 
 
 " Do I make myself clear in this the hour of my agita 
 tion and humiliation ? " 
 
 Janus Leftwitch s habit of writing in this 
 fashion was so fixed that he could not write 
 simply, even when he was scared. Summers
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 31 
 
 understood him well enough, however, and 
 wrote him in reply : 
 
 " Don t be scared, Pod. Nobody ll ever suspect you. 
 You couldn t write that way if you tried. JACK." 
 
 The next morning excitement was at fever 
 heat. Curiosity to know who had written the 
 article, was the dominant emotion. Excited 
 apprehension of its author s speedy assassina 
 tion came next. 
 
 Summers was in -and out of various places of 
 business all the morning, and in each he de 
 clared that if ever he learned who had written 
 the article, he would " shoot him like a dog." 
 Nobody doubted the sincerity of the threat, 
 or the certainty of its execution. 
 
 About noon Summers was saying something 
 of the kind in a little crowd of business men 
 in front of Hilclreth s bank, when Edear 
 
 o 
 
 Braine came up the street. He cheerily 
 greeted the company with " Good morning, 
 gentlemen," and then placed himself in front 
 of Summers, and in a very quiet tone 
 said : 
 
 " I hear you are going to shoot the writer of 
 that article about you, as soon as vou find out 
 who he is. It would be a pity to let you 
 shoot the wrong man by mistake. I should 
 never cease to regret it, because I wrote the
 
 32 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 article myself, and have just finished a much 
 severer one for to-day s paper." 
 
 This unexpected speech fell like a bomb 
 shell into the crowd, and Jack Summers was 
 the one worst stunned by it. 
 
 He stood staring at Braine, apparently un 
 able to comprehend what had happened. No 
 body had ever confronted him in that daring 
 fashion before, and in the novel circumstances 
 he did not know what to do. He did nothing 
 in fact, until Edgar turned to some one else in 
 the crowd, and made pleased comment on the 
 news that land had been purchased by some 
 Pittsburg people for a new rolling mill in 
 Thebes. Then Summers walked away. 
 
 While this was going on, Janus Leftwitch 
 was in the bank parlor, talking earnestly with 
 Abner Hildreth* Podauger was in a panic. 
 Jack Summers, he said, had many friends in 
 town, and they would ruin the Enterprise. 
 
 "I don t see how that can be," replied 
 Hildreth. " The plant of the paper isn t worth 
 more than three thousand dollars ; I ve lent 
 you money on it up to five thousand dollars 
 already, and you re in debt up to your eyes 
 still. It looks to me as if you had already 
 done all the ruining in sight." 
 
 " But, Mr. Hildreth, that ought to make you 
 the more cautious. You have money in the
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 33 
 
 Enterprise. I have been careful to make 
 everybody its friend, as much in your interest 
 as mineo" 
 
 " Yes, and I m short a pile of money in con 
 sequence. " 
 
 " That will come around right all in good 
 time. Thebes is growing, Mr. Hildreth ; her 
 wonderful natural resources, situated as she 
 is " 
 
 " Oh, stop that ! I ve read that in your 
 editorials every day for three years. Look 
 here, Pod, I m not ill disposed toward you. 
 I m willing to go on supporting you, but I 
 must find some cheaper way of doing it. I ll 
 foreclose the cut-throat mortgage on the 
 Enterprise now, and give you a place as clerk 
 on the wharf-boat." 
 
 " But, my dear Mr. Hildreth" broke in the 
 editor, with consternation and despair in every 
 line of his countenance. 
 
 " There, don t thank me, old fellow," said 
 Hildreth, interrupting ; " you know I don t 
 like thanks, and I know you re grateful. The 
 fact is, I ought to have closed out the Enter 
 prise business long ago, but I didn t want the 
 town to be without a paper, and I didn t know 
 anybody to edit it. I know the man now. 
 I ll put Braine in charge to-morrow, and you 
 can print as affectionate a card of farewell this
 
 34 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 afternoon, as you please. Run along and 
 write it. I m too busy to talk longer now," 
 and with that he bowed the fallen editor out 
 of the bank, and forever out of a profession 
 which suited no part of his nature, except his 
 vanity.
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 35 
 
 V. 
 
 THE arrangement between Hildreth and 
 Edgar Braine, by which the young man came 
 into control of the Thebes Daily Enterprise, 
 was a much less definite one in its terms than 
 Abner Hildreth was accustomed to make, ex 
 cept in those cases in which indefiniteness 
 was to his advantage. 
 
 This w r as one of those cases. 
 
 He simply said to Braine : 
 
 " Take the establishment and see what you 
 can make of it. You can make it of some 
 good to the town, at any rate, and that s all I 
 care for. I ll pay you a salary if you like, or 
 you can pocket any profits there are instead, if 
 you prefer that." 
 
 " I ll take the profits," said Edgar. 
 
 " Suppose they turn out to be losses ? " 
 
 " Then the quicker I find out my unfitness 
 the better. I don t want you to pay me a 
 salary for losing your money."
 
 36 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 " You ve good grit, Edgar," exclaimed the 
 elder man, admiringly, " and you ve got go ! 
 I ll stand by you and see you win. You ll 
 need money for a little while to pay running 
 expenses, and you can have it on your own 
 notes till you get the old hulk afloat again. 
 I ll back you. Go in and win ! " 
 
 That was all there was of contract between 
 these two. Obviously the education Edgar 
 Braine had received at Hanover College was 
 deficient in certain particulars. 
 
 The change in the Enterprise was immedi 
 ate. Everybody bought it at first to see what 
 more the young editor would have to say in 
 scarification of Jack Summers, and everybody 
 continued to buy it, because the young editor 
 at once ceased to scarify Summers, fling 
 ing him contemptuously aside as something 
 done for, and turning his attention to a 
 more important aspect of the same mat 
 ter. 
 
 He wanted to know why Jack Summers had 
 been allowed to maintain a gambling house in 
 Thebes, without disguise and without moles 
 tation. He called the public prosecutor by 
 name, and asked him what excuse he had to 
 make for his neglect of his sworn duty. He 
 named the respectable men who had served on 
 the last Grand Jury, and requested them to
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 37 
 
 say why they had omitted to indict so flagrant 
 an offender. 
 
 By this time and it was within the first week 
 of Braine s editorship the languid contempt 
 hitherto felt for the lifeless newspaper had 
 changed to an eager impatience through 
 out the town for its appearance each 
 day. 
 
 At first there was anger everywhere. Two 
 libel suits were brought, but nothing was ever 
 done about them ; they were meant to intimi 
 date, and they failed to do it. 
 
 After awhile the community caught some 
 thing of the editor s enthusiasm. Clergymen 
 preached from the pulpit on the duties of 
 citizens as Grand Jurors and public officers. 
 Finally, a new Grand Jury was assembled, and 
 its first act was to indict Jack Summers, who 
 promptly fled the city. 
 
 This was but a beginning. Braine struck at 
 wrong whenever he saw indications of it. He 
 introduced the element of detection into his 
 work, and followed up clews in a way to which 
 the good people of Thebes were wholly unac 
 customed. 
 
 He did many things merely to excite curi 
 osity and interest. These were harmless fool 
 eries for the most part, and Braine justified 
 them on the ground that they made people
 
 38 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 read his paper, and thus gave him opportunity 
 for the good work he was doing. 
 
 It was this that gave him joy. He had 
 power, and he was using it for the public 
 good. He had borrowed little from Hildreth, 
 and had repaid it easily. His newspaper was 
 profitable, and the job printing establishment 
 connected with it was doing all the business of 
 that kind which the city afforded, now that 
 he had added large supplies of type, a ruling- 
 machine, and a steam press to its equip 
 ment. 
 
 At the end of two years of hard work Edgar 
 Braine believed that he had conquered the 
 tools of fortune and power. He regarded him 
 self as the owner of a prosperous and influen 
 tial newspaper. He had an income sufficient 
 to justify a marriage to which he looked 
 forward with eager longing. He saw no 
 obstacle now between him and fortune.
 
 A VEILED RECORD, 39 
 
 VI, 
 
 [From Helen s Diary.] 
 
 EDGAR left me an hour ago. After he said 
 good night, I came up to my room, took down 
 my hair, put on a wrapper, and sat by the 
 open window, not to think, but to feel. 
 
 After all these months of uncertainty no, 
 not uncertainty, for Edgar was destined to suc 
 ceed after all these months of waiting, we 
 have reached the time when separation will 
 soon be at an end. 
 
 I seem about to be entering on a new life, 
 as a new woman. I am a new, an unfamiliar 
 woman, to myself. I have not realized it until 
 to-night. The change has been so gradual that 
 I have not realized any difference in myself. 
 My love has passed through so many phases. 
 
 I remember, to-night, a time when my love 
 contained but one element trust. I remem 
 ber a particular day when love was young with
 
 4O JUGGERNA UT: 
 
 me, I went into the Enterprise office with 
 Aunt s chronic "want," "A girl to do gen 
 eral housework references required." It was 
 immediately after Edgar had offered himself 
 for a target to Jack Summers. There is some 
 thing glorious in a man s inviting another man 
 to attack him if he dares. I was thinking 
 about it as I went up the Enterprise steps. 
 When I entered the office Edgar sat at a funny 
 desk with peculiar pigeon holes he has said 
 since that he had used it before he took the 
 Enterprise, and though he could have had one 
 that would have been an improvement on it, 
 in point of beauty, he had a sort of sentimen 
 tal feeling in regard to the old one. He says 
 in times of prosperity it will be quite whole 
 some to look at those collar boxes, and re 
 member the time when he was very thankful 
 to get paper collars. 
 
 We laugh a great deal over this, and I am 
 going to have the desk put in of well, yes, 
 in our room. 
 
 He sat that day by the desk, and Mose Har- 
 bell had his feet on the white-washed part of 
 the stove, Edgar says he always does it after 
 his dinner, while he is preparing his most 
 " genial " paragraphs. 
 
 A sunbeam glanced across the room, and 
 made the frayed edge of Edgar s coat stand
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 41 
 
 out beautifully, but he looked terribly clean. 
 He didn t see me at first, and I watched him a 
 minute as he wrote. I loved him first, for the 
 way in which he grasped his pen. He was fin 
 ishing an editorial on the lack of energy in his 
 esteemed fellow citizens in putting down im 
 moral enterprises that were wrecking the uni 
 verse in general, and Thebes in particular. I 
 knew what kind of an article it was, by the 
 expression of his elbows on the desk, and the 
 way he held his chin. 
 
 There, in the office of the Thebes Daily En 
 terprise, with fifty cents in one hand, and 
 Aunt s want in the other, with Mose Harbell s 
 feet on the stove, and the frayed edge of Ed s 
 coat looming up in the sunlight, I, Helen 
 Thayer, loved Edgar Braine, in the year of 
 our Lord, 18 . Amen. 
 
 I always feel like pronouncing the benedic 
 tion when I think of that minute. It was 
 the close of an eventless, careless, tiresome 
 period. I sang the doxology in my heart I 
 said, " and thus endeth the first lesson," and 
 a number of other appropriate, religious 
 things like that. Well, after that, things 
 drifted. 
 
 That evening there was a good deal about 
 love for your neighbor or sentiment after that 
 pattern, in the end of that editorial. Edgar
 
 42 JUGGERNA UT: 
 
 said he was three-fourths done with it when 
 he looked up and saw me. 
 
 As the days went by, the Enterprise seemed 
 more and more filled with the milk of human 
 kindness. I take a great deal of credit to my 
 self for the present exalted tone of the Thebes 
 
 Daily E . Edgar says that I have always 
 
 inspired him with one great desire to be good 
 and honorable. He says that no good woman 
 ever lived who did not make the best man in 
 the world feel ashamed of himself. I am glad 
 of this. There is something delicious in mak 
 ing one feel ashamed of himself. 
 
 All that time I felt a peculiar reverence for 
 him. It \vas a feeling almost enervating. I 
 felt as though walking on a tight-rope men 
 tally. I used to look with awe upon the dig 
 nity of those frayed coat bindings, and the 
 bits of white where the button holes were 
 worn Ed called it " the towel " showing, I be 
 lieve. 
 
 Then that period passed, and there came a 
 day when he stopped in on his way from the 
 office to see if Aunt wanted to put in her 
 chronic want again the next evening. That 
 day we sat in front of the fire talking for a lit 
 tle minute about Ed s schemes for advancing 
 the universe generally, and Thebes, again, in 
 particular.
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 43 
 
 Though I was feeling, as usual, on a great 
 mental strain as I always did when with him, 
 and indulging in an extraordinary deference 
 for the " towel " around the button holes, I 
 became so enthused, and had such a desire to 
 have a hand in advancing something, too, that 
 I leaned forward, and he leaned forward, and 
 well, that ended the third lesson. We kissed 
 each other. I have never since felt the mental 
 strain that I did before that, when with him. 
 Since then, we have seemed just like two 
 human beings who lived every moment of the 
 time when together. 
 
 There is something terribly equalizing in a 
 kiss. With it, there came a great tenderness 
 for him, and as we no longer seemed to be 
 two distinct and separate beings, but just one, 
 that tenderness extended to myself. It seemed 
 to grow to a universal tenderness. I have 
 even, at moments, felt tender toward Mose 
 Harbell when passing his house, and happening 
 to see his wife, nine children, and four dogs, 
 his sister and his mother-in-law. 
 
 We will be married next month, Ed and I, 
 not Mose Harbell and I! 
 
 Ed will take to linen collars next week, and 
 buy a new desk for the editorial sanctum ; and 
 when I am able to have a " girl," I can put in 
 my " want " for nothing.
 
 44 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 Ed says that for a time we can put on a 
 great deal of style in the manner of serving 
 our meals, and therefore won t have to Have so 
 much to eat. One thing is decided ; we are 
 to have some kind of a house to live in by our 
 selves, instead of boarding. 
 
 Ed declares that it is but-a question of time 
 when he shall put on a fresh linen collar every 
 day, and we shall be able to furnish four 
 rooms of a house. At present, the editor will 
 be very well satisfied with three and me. 
 
 I am at once to become a member of the 
 staff. I am going to " do " the society items. 
 Ed says I am capable of working into such 
 things beautifully. I am so thankful that at 
 last I may be an assistant in advancing things. 
 I feel that it is half the happiness of life to be 
 able to be a co-worker with him. Last night 
 I suggested the points for an editorial. He 
 was amazed at its force, and delighted. I was 
 amazed and delighted myself. I think, to 
 gether, we shall be able to make Thebes some 
 thing to be proud of yet. The editor says it 
 will be suck a relief to have some society 
 notes that are not strictly " genial." 
 
 I wonder if a new thought that has taken 
 possession of me is unmaidenly? I think not. 
 At any rate, if it is not maidenly it is very 
 womanly. I have a sudden longing to rear
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 45 
 
 six children. I make this the limit, but I want 
 six. A half dozen. I want to teach six chil 
 dren to be great and good as their father 
 is, and I want to show their father how well 
 I can do this. I want to instil the idea of 
 advancement into six embryonic men and 
 women, that in after years, when I am old, I 
 can say to the world : " You owe me some 
 thing; look at these six citizens." I think six 
 would be a very commendable showing. I 
 think I could feel that I had paid my debt 
 to humanity. 
 
 I am suddenly seized with all sorts of ex 
 alted aspirations. It makes a strange differ 
 ence in one, this deciding to be married. 
 
 I solemnly vow this night, that my life 
 shall be spent in an earnest effort to emulate 
 my husband, Edgar Braine, for so good a man 
 does not live.
 
 46 JUGGERNA UT: 
 
 VII. 
 
 THIS was the situation of affairs with Edgar 
 Braine when he graciously spared the ciga 
 rette-smoking apprentice, and passed into his 
 editorial sanctum on the morning of his sui 
 cide. 
 
 He was putting the sunshine of his own 
 hopefulness into an article on the practical 
 means of promoting Thebes s prosperity, when 
 Abner Hildreth entered. 
 
 " You re a worry to me, Braine, when I 
 think of you," said the banker, after a greet 
 ing. 
 
 "Why, how s that? I m sure 
 
 "Oh, don t let it trouble you. It s this 
 way. As a banker, I pride myself on knowing 
 how to size a man up. The man who can t clo 
 that, to a hair, had better let banking alone 
 and devote himself to some quiet business, 
 like preaching the gospel, or running a saw 
 mill. I thought I d sized you up to a fraction
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 47 
 
 when I put you in here, and as to the paper I 
 had. I knew you d make it the livest sheet in 
 the Mississippi Valley, and you ve done it; I 
 knew you d make it push Thebes with a forty 
 horse-power, and you ve done that too. But 
 I missed badly on one point, and it bothers 
 me. It undermines my confidence in my 
 judgment." 
 
 " In what particular have I disappointed 
 you, Mr. Hildrcth?" 
 
 "Well, that s hardly what I mean. I m not 
 disappointed. But I missed badly as to your 
 business capacity. I knew you were smart at 
 writing, and all that, but I didn t know you 
 had such a head for business on your shoul- 
 ders. I expected to have to lift you out of 
 money holes every six months or so, and was 
 ready to do it, but bless me, if you haven t 
 made a business go of the thing from the 
 start. You re not in debt much, are you for 
 the office I mean ? " 
 
 " Not a cent, for the office or myself. I get 
 enough to live on out of the paper, and have 
 bought new type, a new steam press, a ruling- 
 machine, and other things besides. The 
 paper will pay me a good income now." 
 
 "That s splendid!" said the banker, in ad 
 miration ; " that means you ve put the shop 
 ten thousand dollars to the fore. Good !
 
 48 JUGGERNA UT: 
 
 You ve been worth a hundred thousand to me, 
 and the laws only knows what, to Thebes. 
 Now, such a business head as you ve got 
 ought n t to be wasted on a single little busi 
 ness like this, and I ve made up my mind to 
 take you into bigger things. That s what I m 
 here for to-day." 
 
 Edgar expressed his gratitude for the bank 
 er s appreciation and good will, and declared 
 his willingness to take hold of larger things 
 whenever opportunity should offer. 
 
 " Well now, there s this special election. 
 The Common Council will order it, you 
 know, for the twenty-fifth. There s only one 
 thing to be voted on, and that is the proposi 
 tion to give the Central Railroad the right to 
 run down the levee to the Point, and take the 
 Point for a depot and wharf." 
 
 Yes, I know. I have an article ready on 
 the subject. I haven t discussed it yet, be 
 cause I want to kill it at one blow and see 
 that it stays dead." 
 
 " But I think you don t understand it just 
 right, Braine, and I want to talk to you about 
 it." 
 
 " Certainly I understand it. You and I 
 talked it over three days ago, you remember. 
 I understand perfectly that the thing is a trick 
 to rob Thebes of her most fruitful source of
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 49 
 
 revenue, by giving the levee, and with it the 
 exclusive right to collect wharfage, to this rail 
 road crowd. I know the resolution to be 
 voted on has been drawn so as to make it seem 
 nothing more that a grant of right of way, but 
 that it really authorizes the Common Council 
 to give away the levee and the wharfage rights 
 absolutely. I have found out that our rascally 
 aldermen intend to do just that, and I mean to 
 find out how much they have been paid for 
 doing it and who has paid them. But in the 
 mean time, I intend to defeat the whole ras 
 cally scheme at the polls, by exposing it." 
 
 " Now, wait a minute, Brainc, and don t go 
 off half-cocked. Really, that s your one fault, 
 and you must cure it. Let me tell you about 
 this thing. I felt as you do about it, but since 
 we talked it over, I ve had more light. I ve 
 been in correspondence with the railroad peo 
 ple, you know, and I understand their plans 
 better now. I have a letter from Duncan this 
 morning, in which he says, let me see," glanc 
 ing over the letter, and finding out the part he 
 wanted to read. " Oh, yes, here it is : You 
 quite understand me now. You re one of 
 us no, that isn t it that refers to another 
 matter. Ah ! I have it : We depend upon you 
 to see the thing through in that charter elec 
 tion. Young Braine will certainly kill it if he
 
 5O JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 isn t gagged. Why not let him in on the 
 ground floor a little ? He may be of great use 
 to us in carrying out the other matter, and if 
 we don t control him, he s sure to do us a great 
 deal of damage. Can t you explain the thing 
 to him, and make him see it in its right light ? 
 There, I oughtn t to have read the letter to 
 you because I can t read it all. Some of it s 
 confidential, and hearing only a scrap that way, 
 the expressions seem blind and misleading to 
 you." 
 
 " I think I understand better than you sup 
 pose, Mr. Hildreth. This man Duncan has 
 bought your favor for his scheme ; you have 
 been fighting the ring, not to break it, but to 
 break into it, and you ve succeeded. Now the 
 fellow wants to buy me. He can t do it, that s 
 all." 
 
 " Very well, only don t think Abner Hildreth 
 a fool. I didn t blunder into reading that part 
 of the letter to you. I did it on purpose. I 
 wanted you to understand the lay of the land ; 
 and decide for yourself. What are you going 
 to do about it? " 
 
 " I m going to expose the whole criminal 
 conspiracy. I m going to fight this greedy 
 gang of speculators, and I m going to beat 
 them at the polls." 
 
 " How will you go about all that ? "
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 5 I 
 
 " Iii the Enterprise." 
 
 " But I ou>n the Enterprise, you remembei 
 Braine, and naturally you can t do it in my pa 
 per. I ve never asked you to help me in any 
 of my enterprises, but I shan t let you use the 
 paper to hurt the biggest one I ever engaged 
 in. You can t do this in any other paper, 
 because you ve driven the Argus out of town, 
 and I took pains to buy the Item this morning 
 early, on the chance of its being turned against 
 me. I ve got a bill of sale of the whole con 
 cern, stock, lock, and barrel, in my pocket 
 now !" 
 
 " My "God !" exclaimed Braine, for the first 
 time realizing his helplessness, and the conse 
 quences it involved with respect to his mar 
 riage and his future. 
 
 " Don t swear, Edgar. It s immoral. I m a 
 religious man myself, and might put the mat 
 ter in a stronger way ; but you re not a pro 
 fessor of religion, and so I only say its im 
 moral." 
 
 Edgar sat thinking for ten minutes, during 
 which neither man spoke. Then Hildreth said : 
 
 " You mustn t take an unbusiness-like view 
 of this thing, Edgar " 
 
 " Call me by my last name, please some 
 how I like it better," interrupted the young 
 man.
 
 52 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 " Oh, all right. As I was saying, you 
 oughtn t to look at this thing in your high and 
 mighty way. It s unbusiness-like. It isn t 
 practical. Let me explain a little. This is 
 a great business enterprise, far-reaching, and 
 sure to make Thebes great. The men who are 
 engineering it and putting their money into it, 
 naturally want some return. They ask this 
 right of way 
 
 " And intend to steal the whole levee under 
 cover of a swindling document," broke in 
 Braine. 
 
 " Now don t get excited, and use harsh 
 terms. These men want certain privileges 
 in return for making Thebes a great railroad 
 centre, and the Common Council is willing to 
 make the grant as soon as the people, by a 
 vote, give them authority under the law. 
 You have thought it would be your duty to 
 oppose the thing, but I have shown you its 
 nature, and asked you to change your opinion. 
 You can carry this election by the influence of 
 the Enterprise. We ask you to do it, and tell 
 you that if you do you shall be let in on the 
 ground floor. I ll make that more definite. 
 If you help us, on the day after the election 
 the Enterprise good-will, business, presses, 
 type, and everything, shall be Edgar Braine s, 
 absolutely, to do what he pleases with, and in
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 53 
 
 any political, or other aspirations he may have, 
 he will enjoy the support of the moneyed in 
 terest of the State. If you refuse to help, 
 why, naturally, I must put a man in charge of 
 the Enterprise who will. He is at my office 
 now." 
 
 Braine said nothing for a longtime. He was 
 taking account of his situation. He had 
 thought himself prosperous. In fact, if he 
 broke with Hildreth, he had scarcely more 
 than the fifty dollars with which he had come 
 to Thebes several years before. He might 
 have saved a few thousands from the earnings 
 of the Enterprise, but he had preferred, in his 
 eagerness to make the paper successful, to 
 spend the money in improvements. All his 
 plans had been laid with reference to his con 
 tinuance in his present position, with the cer 
 tain income it secured. But Abner Hildreth 
 held all his prospects and all his plans in the 
 hollow of his hand, to do what he would with 
 them. 
 
 It was a choice between certain ruin on the 
 one hand, and practically limitless success on 
 the other, for he saw more clearly than Hil 
 dreth did, how potent a lever the influence of 
 the " moneyed interest " might be made, and 
 how much more perfectly he could command 
 its aid than Abner Hildreth dreamed.
 
 54 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 The temptation was frightful. The horror 
 of such iniquity in his soul was not less so. 
 
 "This craze of speculation, which seems to 
 dominate everything of late years in our 
 money-cursed country, is a very Juggernaut," 
 he said at last, in bitterness of spirit, and less 
 to Hildreth than to himself. 
 
 "Juggernaut?" responded the banker, 
 " that s the Hindoo car that runs over people 
 and crushes em, isn t it?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Yes. Well now, let me call your attention 
 to an interesting fact about that car. Did you 
 ever observe that it never runs over the people 
 that ride on it ? " 
 
 "Yes. I ve observed that. I m not so sure 
 that the analogy will hold, however. One 
 might get jostled off, and fall under the 
 wheels. But I seem to be almost under now 
 He hesitated a moment more, and then 
 " For safety I ll get on, and trust to my grip to 
 hold on. I ll favor the proposal, Mr. Hildreth, 
 and I ll carry it through at the polls." 
 
 Then changing his tone to one a little less 
 grim and more cheerful, he went on : " But our 
 contract has been rather indefinite in the past. 
 Would you mind signing an agreement now as 
 to the transfer of the Enterprise to me on the 
 day after the election ? "
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 55 
 
 " No, certainly not. I ll write it." 
 
 He wrote hurriedly and signed. Braine 
 looked over the paper and tore it up. 
 
 " That s worthless," he said. " A contract 
 without consideration can t be enforced. I 
 want a legally binding agreement this time. 
 I ll draw it." 
 
 He did so, and then read it to the banker, 
 who assented to its terms, and was about to 
 sign it when Braine stopped him. 
 
 " Wait a moment" he said ; then raising his 
 voice he called : " Mikey ! " 
 
 The apprentice appeared, trembling lest 
 judgment clay had come for the sin of smoking 
 cigarettes. 
 
 "I want you to see Mr. Hildreth and me 
 sign this paper. Never mind reading it," he 
 said, laying a blotting pad over the lines, as he 
 saw the boy s eyes wandering curiously over 
 the document. When the two had signed, he 
 turned to Mikey and said: 
 
 " Now, write the word witness in that cor 
 ner, and sign your own name under it." 
 
 When the lad had finished, Braine turned to 
 Ilildreth, who was beamingly about to shake 
 hands with him, and said in a strangely cold 
 and haughty tone : 
 
 "I believe that finishes our business, Mr. 
 Hildreth, and as I have some matters to dis-
 
 5 6 JUG GEKNA UT : 
 
 cuss with Mikey, I beg you will excuse me. 
 Good morning, sir." 
 
 Hildreth passed out of the office, astonish 
 ment, vexation, and triumph struggling for 
 mastery in his mind. 
 
 " He s a cool hand, sure," he muttered, 
 "to bow me out in that fashion, just when I d 
 bought him, body and breeches ! Somehow I 
 can t feel quite easy about this thing yet. He 
 didn t act as though he thought he belonged 
 to me. Wonder if he s going to burst the 
 whole thing up after all ! By George ! I 
 haven t got a scrap of writing to hold him by! 
 I haven t got a line binding him to any 
 thing ! " 
 
 With that he stopped short in the street, 
 and after a moment s reflection, muttered 
 again : 
 
 " Abner Hildreth, you re a fool ! You have 
 sized that fellow up, and you know he is too 
 honorable to go back on his promise. Well, 
 of course, there ain t so much to be said about 
 his honor now but he won t lie, that s certain. 
 He ll keep his part of this bargain." 
 
 Braine when left alone with Mikey, said to 
 the lad : 
 
 " Mikey, how far did you go in arithmetic 
 at school? " 
 
 " Clear troo, sir."
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 57 
 
 " What did you get on examination ? " 
 
 " Eighty-six, sir." 
 
 " Well, here s a sum I want you to work out 
 for me. If a boy, fourteen years old, smokes 
 a dozen cigarettes a day at five cents a dozen, 
 allowing compound interest on the money, 
 how much will the smoking cost him by the 
 time he s twenty-one? It will be a long sum 
 to do. If you get tired while working at it, 
 here s a good Havana cigar to smoke for a 
 rest. Do the sum to-night, and bring me the 
 answer in the morning. Go along to your 
 work now." 
 
 Then Edgar Braine sat down to write, for 
 the first time in his life, in advocacy of what 
 he believed to be iniquity. The article was 
 the most difficult one he had ever tried to 
 write, but when done, it was almost startling 
 in its vigor and persuasiveness. 
 
 When he had read it over, he thought : 
 
 " It almost convinces me that the thing is 
 right, and / know better. It will surely con 
 vince men who don t know better. It s a 
 strange experience for a man who has con 
 scientiously written for the public instruction, 
 to turn about and write with a deliberate pur 
 pose to deceive the public and wrong it. But 
 the Edgar Brame who worked for the good of 
 his fellow-men is dead. He committed suicide
 
 58 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 to-day. By the way, he ought to have a good 
 obituary. I ll write it." 
 
 And he did. The article began : 
 
 " There died in this town to-day, a young 
 man much esteemed by his fellow-citizens. 
 The young man was known to all our readers as 
 Edgar Braine, the editor. He died by his own 
 hand, and no cause for the deed is known to 
 the public." 
 
 It went on to give a sketch of the suicide s 
 life, and an analysis of his character, and the 
 purposes which had animated him in his 
 work. 
 
 When the foreman got the obituary with 
 "must" written upon it, he was thrown into a 
 panic, and rushed into the editorial room to 
 remonstrate. 
 
 " I can t believe you mean to kill yourself, 
 Mr. Braine 
 
 " Be perfectly easy in your mind, Snede- 
 ker," replied Braine, with a smile, " I m not 
 going to do myself any further harm." 
 
 The foreman wanted to ask what the thing 
 meant, but was not encouraged by the look on 
 Braine s face to indulge his curiosity. He 
 " set " the article himself, thinking that should 
 the editor change his mind about it, it would 
 be just as well not to give the journeymen a 
 chance to talk. But Braine did not recall it.
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 59 
 
 He corrected the proof slip, and went on with 
 his work. 
 
 When the Enterprise came out with the 
 obituary of its editor staring at its readers be 
 tween turned rules, the little city was thrown 
 into something like a convulsion. It was 
 soon learned at the newspaper office that 
 Braine was not dead Abner Hildreth was 
 the first to make the inquiry and the good 
 news spread rapidly through the excited com 
 munity. But what did the obituary mean ? 
 
 Conjecture busied itself with an effort to 
 find a solution for the mystery; for wildly, per 
 sonal and audacious as journalism was in small 
 western towns at that time, the effrontery of 
 this stroke startled the community. One wise 
 one suggested that Mose Harbell must have 
 done the thing for a joke, as he had manifestly 
 done the mackerel story in the same issue of 
 the paper ; but that theory was unanimously 
 rejected as soon as it was observed that the 
 article did not once call Braine "genial." 
 
 Finally the community settled down to the 
 conviction that this was only another of 
 Braine s devices a trifle more startling than 
 the others for exciting interest in the paper, 
 and making it a subject of universal talk. 
 
 Abner Hildreth alone understood, and he 
 was satisfied to be silent.
 
 60 JUGGERNA UT: 
 
 VIII. 
 
 As the sun rose after his night of tramp 
 ing and troubled reminiscence, Edgar Braine 
 resolutely put the past out of his mind, and 
 turned to the future. 
 
 "The old Edgar is dead," he said ; "let 
 us see what we can do for the new Edgar." 
 
 But before attacking that problem, he 
 cleared his head by going out to the little 
 shed that served him for a bath house, filling 
 his home-made shower-bath with fresh water 
 and drenching himself in the chill air of the 
 June morning. When dressed, all the weari 
 ness of watching was gone, his pulse was full 
 and his mind clear. 
 
 He called across the street and bade the 
 negro caterer bring him a cup of coffee, and 
 not until it came did he permit himself to think 
 of anything more important than the beauty 
 of the morning, and a pet scheme he had of 
 persuading the aldermen of Thebes to offer
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 6 1 
 
 citizens some sort of inducement to plant more 
 permanent trees among the quick growing and 
 quick decaying cotton-woods of the streets. 
 
 When the coffee came, he dismissed all 
 these things, and set himself to work out some 
 problems. 
 
 " Hildreth thinks he has made himself my 
 master," he thought, " and Duncan and the 
 Boston crowd are sure of it. They intend to 
 make me serviceable to them, and kindly 
 mean to toss a financial bone or two to me 
 now and then. Thank you very much, gentle 
 men, but the relation you propose doesn t suit 
 me. I prefer to occupy the place of master 
 myself. It suits my peculiar temperament 
 better." 
 
 Saying this in imagination, he began to 
 think earnestly of means. 
 
 His first task was to discover as accurately 
 as possible what the plans of the speculative 
 combination were, to spy out the camp which 
 he meant to conquer. 
 
 The levee, which the Common Council was 
 about to cede to the Central Railroad, cov 
 ered the whole water-front of Thebes available 
 for steamboat-landings, wharfs, grain-elevators, 
 warehouses, and the like. To Thebes, the 
 loss of the ground-rents and wharf-chanres 
 
 <-> o 
 
 would be a* great sacrifice, but the value of the
 
 62 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 privilege in that way was clearly not enough 
 to account for the eagerness of the railroad 
 people to secure it. They had other things in 
 mind indeed, there had been a reference to 
 other things in Duncan s letter. It was Edgar 
 Braine s first care to find out what those other 
 things were. 
 
 He reflected that another railroad the 
 Northern was in process of extension to 
 Thebes. Upon consideration, he saw that the 
 grant of the levee to the Central would effect 
 ually cut off the Northern from a terminus on 
 the river. " That," he said to himself, " will 
 enormously depress Northern stock, as soon 
 as the effects of the cession are under 
 stood. Then, this crowd"" will buy it up for 
 a song, consolidate with the Central and 
 make a Union Depot at the Point. Yes 
 I see. That s the first part of the game. 
 Then there s the Southern connection. They 
 mean to build the twenty-five miles of road be 
 tween here and Columbia on the other side of 
 the river, and probably lease the whole system 
 from that point, south. That will give them 
 complete control of a vast system all centring 
 here in Thebes. They ll establish a railroad 
 ferry across the river, of course. Oh, by 
 Jove ! " he cried, starting up in excitement, 
 " TJierc arc two sides to tJiis river ! "
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 63 
 
 With that he hastily finished his toilet by 
 putting on a paper collar, thinking, as he did 
 so: "I must take to linen, I suppose, now 
 that I am to be a great financier." 
 
 After he was dressed, he hastily wrote a note 
 to Helen, which began with the greeting he 
 sent her every morning, and continued with a 
 few loving words as to their approaching mar- 
 
 " I have leased the little cottage, with the bed of sweet- 
 williams in front, clear by the way, I expect you to call 
 them sweet Edgars in your splendid loyalty with an 
 option of buying it at the end of two years. It will be 
 good property to own, but you shall not live there long, 
 dear. I have grown ambitious since you consented to 
 be my partner. I shall make money and reputation, and 
 surround you with every luxury for which you do not 
 in the least care. I shall place you where your superior 
 intellectual and social gifts will have play. You don t 
 care for that either? Ah ! but you will, when you find 
 how greatly your social supremacy will aid me in my more 
 masculine ambitions. When you are my wife, I shall 
 be not twice, but ten times the man I am now. But 
 first, 1 must teach you to appreciate yourself, dear, and 
 convince you that I am not the infatuated lover you 
 think me, when I tell you how superior you are to other 
 women. Abner Hildreth told me yesterday that I have 
 a remarkable head for business ; well, the best justifica 
 tion my vanity has for accepting his opinion, is that I have 
 had the shrewdness to recognize your worth, and to secure 
 you for my partner. That s a joke not to my taste, Helen
 
 64 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 dear, but I haven t time to write this sheet over. You 
 know I marry you simply because I love you, and that I 
 would not profane my thought of you by associating you, 
 even in my mind, with the things of this world. But I 
 do want to see you shine. I want everybody to know 
 your superiority as well as I do. I am ambitious for 
 you, because I love you and wish to exalt you." 
 
 A little later, Edgar Braine, with a gun and 
 game-bag, crossed the river in a skiff. It was 
 his custom to shoot a little in the woods beyond 
 the great stream twice or thrice a week, for ex 
 ercise and for love of the woodland odors that 
 brought back memories of his boyhood. But 
 he was not thinking of exercise or odors this 
 morning, or of the squirrels with which his 
 sport usually filled his bag. When he landed, 
 he walked immediately to the cabin occupied 
 by Waverley Cooke. There he was greeted by 
 Waverley, a tall and once very fine-looking 
 man, whose broad brow was now marked with 
 blotches which had run over as it were, from 
 his brandy-pimpled nose. 
 
 Waverley Cooke was a Virginian, whose dig 
 nified courtesy of manner had been inherited 
 from ancestors of the old stately school. In 
 his youth he had been promising far beyond 
 the common ; in his young manhood he had 
 quickly won distinction as an advocate whose 
 eloquence was singularly persuasive. All doors
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 6$ 
 
 to success had seemed open to him once; no\v, 
 all were forever closed. Drink had mastered 
 him before he reached his thirtieth year, and 
 now at fifty, he was old, broken, and hopeless. 
 His patrimony had been wasted, and he had 
 come some years before to live upon the wild 
 waste lands he owned opposite Thebes. 
 
 It had been his hope to develop this prop 
 erty, to build up a city there, which should 
 share with Thebes the prosperity that had al 
 ways been predicted for that town, and was 
 now at last approaching. 
 
 But fortune had tarried too long for Wa- 
 vcrly Cooke. Hope deferred had made his 
 heart sick, and sorrow and solitude and drink 
 had made wreck of his once buoyant nature. 
 He had no longer any capacity to hope, and all 
 the plans he had cherished lay dead now in his 
 enfeebled hands. 
 
 Among these plans had been one to make the 
 river his toll-gate whenever commerce should 
 begin to cross it. In anticipation of that time 
 he had secured in perpetuity the ferry franchise 
 from his own miles of desolate river front to 
 the shore where Thebes had then stood, a half- 
 drowned hamlet waiting to become a city. 
 
 In the conviction that some day railroads 
 from the north would meet railroads from the 
 south at this place, he had seized upon this
 
 66 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 strategic point ; this ferry franchise should 
 make him rich, while the building of a town 
 upon his land it must be there, because there 
 alone was a landing possible for many miles 
 should make his wealth princely. 
 
 But Waverley Cooke had not been able to 
 wait, and all that remained of his project was 
 the plying of his skiff sometimes rowed by his 
 own hands, and sometimes by a negro man, 
 once his slave, who had remained his faithful 
 attendant in his decay, to carry infrequent 
 passengers across the stream for hire. 
 
 It was to purchase this ferry franchise that 
 Edgar Braine had crossed the river that morn 
 ing. When the matter was mentioned to 
 
 o 
 
 Cooke, a sad, dreamy look came into the poor 
 fellow s face, and for a time he said nothing. 
 He poured and drank some undiluted spirit 
 courteously motioning an invitation to his 
 guest, for he could not speak and then passed 
 into the rear room of his house. 
 
 After a few moments he returned, erect, and 
 with a touch of his old stateliness in his man 
 ner, and said : 
 
 " Pardon me, Braine, but it is not a pleasant 
 thing for a man to contemplate a wrecked life, 
 when that life is his own. I quite understand 
 the value this franchise will have some day, 
 and until this hour I have hoped myself to
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 67 
 
 reap the advantage of its possession. It was 
 weak and foolish to cherish such a delusion, 
 but until now I have never frankly admitted 
 to myself the completeness of the ruin I have 
 wrought. I know now that if there were a dozen 
 railroads seeking ferry accommodations here, I 
 could not arrange to provide them. I should 
 have to go to Thebes to negotiate for the 
 means, and I should get helplessly drunk there 
 and part with everything to the first man that 
 found out I had anything. I would rather sell 
 to you, an honest man, and better still, a 
 brave one. I have loved you with a knightly 
 admiration, boy, ever since that affair with 
 Summers. We Virginians cherish our inher 
 ited respect for personal courage, Braine. We 
 hold it the chief virtue of manhood. This 
 money-grubbing age laughs at our chivalric 
 folly and mocks it ; but our chivalric folly 
 scorns this money-grubbing age, and so we are 
 quits with it." 
 
 After a little further conversation, the 
 wrecked Virginian took another drink, and 
 said : 
 
 "Why not face the facts? That is my 
 master" pointing to the bottle. "I drink 
 whiskey before breakfast ; I get up in the 
 night to drink it. I cannot go on in that way 
 much longer, and I should go off at once if I
 
 68 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 quitted it. It s a sorry thing to joke about, 
 isn t it? No matter. What I have in mind is 
 this : I m a wreck. I shall never do any 
 good to myself or anybody else. My wife is 
 buried out there in the swamp that poisoned 
 her with its miasms. My children lie by her 
 side. There remains for me only a brief 
 period of wretchedness, and then death and 
 oblivion. Why should I stay here in this 
 pestilential wilderness ? Why not sell out the 
 whole thing to you, land there s seven thou 
 sand acres of it all worthless at present 
 ferry franchise, railroad charter, and all ? You 
 are young and vigorous. You will make 
 something of it. You will realize my dreams, 
 and I have a sentimental pleasure in thinking 
 of that. Sentiment is out of fashion, I know, 
 but never mind. I m out of fashion too." 
 
 " But I haven t money enough for so large a 
 transaction, Mr. Cooke," said Braine. 
 
 "Money? It won t take much. If you 
 were to pay me a thousand dollars now, or five 
 thousand, do you know what I would do? I 
 would go over to Thebes, get drunk and die 
 probably. What would be the use of giving 
 me money in large sums? I can t be helped 
 in that way. But I ll tell you how you can 
 buy me out, and at the same time do the best 
 thing there is to be done for me. The home
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 69 
 
 of my fathers in Virginia is vacant aban 
 doned as worthless since the war. The man 
 who owns it will let me have the use of it, he 
 says, for a song, and the offer has brought a 
 great longing over me. / want to go home 
 again." 
 
 Here the poor fellow broke down com 
 pletely, tears streaming from his eyes and 
 his utterance choking. Braine turned and 
 walked apart in respectful sympathy. After a 
 time he returned, and Cooke, having recovered 
 himself, resumed : 
 
 " I want to take my wife and children out of 
 the swamp and bury them in the little grave 
 yard back of the garden at home, where the 
 sweet-briar roses grow. I want to sit there by 
 them every day till I die, trying to tell them 
 how I repent me of my sin that ruined their 
 lives. Who knows ? Perhaps the wife s spirit 
 might smile upon me then, as she smiled when 
 she believed in me. Perhaps the little ones 
 might remember in their graves the stories I 
 used to tell them, and learn to love me again. 
 I want to live in the old home till I die, and I 
 want nothing else in the world. Edgar Braine, 
 you can make that possible. Do it, and all 
 these accursed possessions of mine, which will 
 be golden possibilities to you, are yours !" 
 
 Braine was too deeply moved to speak for
 
 70 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 a time. Broken down drunkard that this man 
 was, he had a certain nobility of character 
 yet it was all that remained to him of his 
 inheritance from his fathers. It was a reviving 
 glow of the old inherited courage and love of 
 truth that prompted him thus to face his own 
 condition, and assume the responsibility of his 
 folly without an attempt to excuse or palliate 
 the wrong he had done. 
 
 "What do you want, Mr. Cooke?" at last 
 Brain e asked. 
 
 " I want to go back to the old home to 
 die. I want you to pay my passage and 
 theirs" motioning toward the graves "and 
 to pay me enough every month after I get 
 there to provide me with food and clothes 
 and this," seizing the bottle and hurling it into 
 the corner angrily. " You are not to send the 
 money to me, mind. That would end all at 
 once. You are to send it to some one I will 
 name. A hundred dollars every month will be 
 ample, and it won t be for long, as your debt 
 is to cease with my death. Will you do this? 
 Oh ! will you do this, Braine ? Will you have 
 pity on me, and give me one breath of the old 
 air, one look at the old hills, one little rest 
 under the old trees, before I die ? " 
 
 In the great longing that had taken pos 
 session of his imagination, the broken man
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 71 
 
 was in panic lest his proposal should be re 
 fused. 
 
 " The land will be valuable some day, 
 Braine, and so will the ferry franchise. It is 
 absolute and exclusive, and the railroad com 
 merce of this region must cross the river here. 
 Then there is the railroad franchise." 
 
 "What is that?" asked Braine. "You 
 mentioned it before, but I do not understand." 
 
 "Why, I have a special charter, granted 
 years ago, for a railroad from here to Colum 
 bia and on to the State line, for that matter, 
 but as there is already a line from Columbia 
 south, it is this twenty-five miles that are 
 important. The charter will be very valuable 
 whenever anybody is ready to build the con 
 necting link, as they will be some day, because 
 it grants valuable, exclusive privileges which 
 can t be had under the present constitution. I 
 drew the charter myself with an eye to the 
 future, and legislatures in those days were 
 ready to grant anything, in their eagerness to 
 encourage railroad-building. I can t recall all 
 the legal points now my head isn t clear 
 but I ll show you the charter. You ll see for 
 yourself that whoever builds any railroad to 
 connect the lines centring at Thebes with the 
 Southern system, is absolutely obliged to have 
 this charter."
 
 72 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 He took the document from his desk, and 
 Braine read it through carefully. Then he said : 
 
 " Mr. Cooke, this is a very valuable piece of 
 paper." 
 
 "Then you will grant what I have asked? " 
 eagerly interjected the other, almost in accents 
 of prayer. 
 
 " I will if you insist. But as an honest man, 
 or one who tries to be tolerably honest " he 
 remembered his suicide " I cannot accept 
 your offer without telling you that you are giv 
 ing greatly more than you imagine. This 
 twenty-five miles of road must be built, and 
 men of enormous means will build it." 
 
 " Will they buy the charter on my terms, and 
 now? A month hence it may be too late." 
 
 " They would buy it now, and on better 
 terms than I am able to offer, if they knew of 
 its existence," said Braine. 
 
 " I tell you there are no better terms possible. 
 I won t have money paid me for it. I should 
 get drunk and die, and never get home with 
 them," again pointing to the graves. " Now 
 listen to me, Edgar Braine. I must start 
 home in three days, with them, or I must 
 drown myself. I cannot live if this thing is 
 not carried out. It is impossible to make 
 better terms for me. All other terms would be 
 worse, infinitely worse."
 
 A VEILED RECOKD. 73 
 
 " Could I not execute a mortgage to you for 
 a sum fairly representing the worth of this ? " 
 holding up the paper. 
 
 " No ! I should trade it off for liquor and 
 die the sooner. I tell you I want one thing 
 and no other. There is nobody to come after 
 me to inherit anything I might leave." 
 
 " Very well. Take to-day to think over the 
 matter. You re excited now. If you adhere 
 to your proposal to-morrow, I will accept it." 
 
 " No, no, no ! It must be now, I tell you. 
 I will execute the papers now, and begin to 
 get ready for home ! " 
 
 And so it was arranged. Excitement seemed 
 to clear the head of the inebriate, and though 
 his hand trembled, he wrote without a pause 
 until every detail of the transaction was cov 
 ered in legal form. Then he directed the 
 negro boy, Sam, to harness the horse to the 
 rickety buggy, and drove his visitor to the 
 county seat, ten miles away, where the neces 
 sary legal forms of acknowledgment, record, 
 etc., were completed. 
 
 When Edgar Braine walked into Hildreth s 
 bank parlor late that afternoon, he said quite 
 carelessly : 
 
 " I have come into a little property, and 
 have some payments to make in the settle-
 
 74 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 ment. I may have to borrow a few hundred 
 dollars to-morrow on a thirty days accept 
 ance." 
 
 " You can have a few thousands if you want 
 it," said the banker, " any time you like. Now 
 that you re one of us, I ll take care that your 
 credit is good." 
 
 " Now that I m one of you," replied Braine, 
 "perhaps I shall be able to look after that a 
 little myself. You say I have a good head for 
 business." 
 
 With that he strolled out and bought a copy 
 of the Enterprise to see if Mose Harbell had 
 read his proofs carefully in his absence. As 
 he passed a shop he paused and said to him 
 self: 
 
 " As there really are two sides to the river, I 
 may as well take to linen collars at once." 
 And he went in and bought a supply.
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 75 
 
 IX. 
 
 [From Helen s Diary.] 
 
 June 5, 1 8 -. Received a short note from 
 Edgar at noon. It was a peculiar, unnatural 
 note in some respects. It seemed a mechani 
 cal affair, instead of an impulse of the heart. 
 He did not call this evening. I am much wor 
 ried over it. 
 
 June 6, 1 8 o Edgar is just now gone. This 
 morning I received a note from him as usual, 
 saying that he had secured a cottage just at 
 the edge of town for us. He called at eight. 
 He was in the wildest spirits. I have never 
 seen him in this way before. His happiness 
 infected me. He has had a wonderful stroke 
 of good fortune, by which he has come into 
 the proprietorship of the Enterprise, as well as 
 the editorship, and he has just engaged in a land 
 speculation which I am not to mention that 
 is going to be worth a fortune to him, some-
 
 76 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 thing about a railroad grant, or something. I 
 don t understand it exactly. 
 
 The cottage has seven rooms, and we are 
 going to furnish them all. Ed laughed, and 
 observed that he had already reached the 
 linen collar period of his existence. There 
 was a certain grim ring in his laugh to-night. 
 I feel anything but grim. My entire person 
 feels like a perpetual smile of joy. This 
 stroke of fortune is glorious. Ed said that I 
 must say absolutely nothing about affairs. 
 That he had some people in his hands, and 
 that we must be very discreet. I can t bear 
 discretion. It always seems to suggest some 
 thing to be ashamed of. Of course, it doesn t 
 in this instance, because Edgar is the one who 
 enjoins it. There is something glorious in 
 this feeling of absolute faith. To knoiv that 
 for the rest of my life I shall never know the 
 responsibility of having to decide anything. 
 To know that I can place myself entirely in 
 his hands, and be confident of always being 
 counselled aright. I could never have loved 
 him if I could not have felt this. It is my 
 temperament. I do not feel this because I love 
 him, but I love him because of this feeling. A 
 good and honorable man a man above the 
 petty meanness of his fellows inspires one 
 almost with reverence.
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 77 
 
 There is a certain magnificent assurance of 
 superiority in Edgar Braine, so that at times 
 the thought of his marriage with a woman 
 like me seems almost outrageous. I feel so 
 inferior, morally and intellectually. I fear 
 being a drag upon him ; an obstacle in the 
 road of his advancement. I am determined to 
 keep up with him as far as it lies in my power. 
 He said to-night that he lived for but two 
 things power, and my love. I can satisfy 
 the latter, and will never hinder the former. 
 I realize how dear this wish for power is to 
 him ; how he longs to be able to better the 
 condition of those people whom he comes in 
 contact with. His ideas are constantly broad 
 ening. To-night he talked a little wildly, but 
 in a tone and with a manner that in some way 
 carried conviction with it, of becoming a 
 power not only among his immediate associates 
 but among the people in general; a power in 
 the nation. 
 
 When I think of the noble aims of this man 
 that I love, I cannot help feeling that such a 
 situation would vastly benefit the country. 
 With such a spirit at the helm, there could be 
 no danger of wreck. Heigho ! What specu 
 lations. 
 
 I found myself smiling at the absurdity of 
 my thoughts just now. If I believed that
 
 7 8 JUG GERNA UT; 
 
 such a tiling could be, I should not be so 
 supremely happy as I am now. I could sacri 
 fice my feelings, if it were to the interests of 
 the country, or Edgar. I should even enjoy 
 sacrificing them, I think. But there will 
 never be any question of that. It seems to 
 me that all has come to the point that I have 
 longed for. We are to be married ; never 
 separated ; live comfortably, without the 
 necessity for anxiety as to the practical things 
 of life, and love each other unmolested by 
 anyone or anything. This is absolute and 
 perfect happiness. To love and live with no 
 ambition save to do right, and feel that the 
 world may be a little better for two loving 
 people having lived in it. 
 
 When I teased Ed to-night about not taking 
 me to New York for our wedding trip, he 
 actually looked unhappy, and as though he 
 thought 1 meant it. It made me laugh to see 
 the miserable expression on his face for a 
 moment, when I have been thanking Heaven 
 all this time that we could not afford to go 
 further than Chicago, and so would get back 
 here to Thebes and our little home in half the 
 time. Besides, I hate travelling. It covers 
 me with dust till I feel as if I could never be 
 clean again. The dust seems to get even into 
 my mind and soul. It isn t so with Edgar.
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 79 
 
 There is a halo of immaculateness about him : 
 cleanliness is in the very atmosphere when he is 
 near. He is absolutely an indescribable man. 
 He walks down the street, and if one but gets 
 a glimpse of his shiny coat-tails rounding the 
 corner, one is impressed with the superiority 
 of the manner those coat-tails have of round 
 ing that corner. One knows that they belong 
 to a man who is worth knowing. One would 
 be impressed that the proprietor of those shiny 
 coat-tails had accomplished some great thing. 
 
 If I don t stop right here, I shall get to 
 elaborating on this subject until I shall not 
 get to bed at all. 
 
 Good night, Edgar. I hold up my face to 
 be kissed. 
 
 June iQth. I have not written in this diary 
 for days. There has been plenty to write 
 about plenty of emotions, not many inci 
 dents. 
 
 Edgar has reached what, to me, seems the 
 pinnacle of fame and honor though he only 
 laughs when I say so, and says, with almost a 
 touch of contempt in his tone " Wait ! " 
 
 I am a thousand times more elated over the 
 situation than he is and yet I hardly know 
 whether I am quite as happy as I was before, 
 or not. When I am overwhelmed with exal 
 tation and admiration for his wonderful
 
 SO JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 achievements, Edgar smiles indulgently, and 
 the other night he turned suddenly and said : 
 
 " Listen, dear ! When I was a young boy, I 
 used to become frenzied at times with certain 
 indignities that other boys with only half my 
 brains compelled me to endure, because they 
 happened to be situated more advantageously 
 than I as regards material things. While I 
 had perfect contempt for them, I felt a wild 
 desire to convince them of my superiority, as I 
 was convinced of it. I decided that brute 
 force was the only thing at my command at first, 
 and one morning, went out and whipped that 
 one of them whose prestige was such in the 
 town that victory over him meant reverence 
 for me from the rest in the set. It was this 
 very respect which I had whipped the fellow to 
 gain, and which these little ruffians accorded me 
 afterward, that disgusted me. I found I didn t 
 value the respect of a lot of little loafers who 
 could appreciate superiority of that kind only. 
 That evening, when I saw my mother patching 
 those clothes that had been torn in the fight, I 
 discovered that there was no longer even the 
 flavor of satisfaction left me. I said then, I 
 will adopt a larger plan. I did. I had then 
 no thought that that just this would be the 
 outcome," and here he looked out of the win 
 dow for a time, with the strange, determined,
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 8 1 
 
 ominous look that I have seen in his face so 
 often lately. 
 
 " But the situation is more than my wild 
 est dreams could have anticipated." 
 
 Here he laughed. His laugh, too, has 
 changed a little lately. He went on in a sort 
 of abstracted tone. "And what that first 
 brutal success was to me, now is this that 
 enthuses you so. Like that first success it 
 has, from the very fact of its unsatisfactory 
 character, urged and assured greater achieve 
 ments. I think of it as paltry, inconsequential 
 from my present point of view. It is only a 
 means by which to accomplish great things, 
 things worthy of achievement as most people 
 regard worthiness. 
 
 " The present is nothing to me, absolutely 
 nothing, except so far as it affects the future." 
 
 Then he fell into one of his little silent 
 moments, of which he has so many now. 
 There is something about it all that makes me 
 feel strange and hysterical. I am so proud 
 of him that I want to cry out on the street 
 corners that this man belongs to me and yet 
 there is something lacking. He is with me 
 even more than usual, for it seems as though 
 he has sudden plans and constantly occurring 
 things to tell me about. 
 
 He always says : " Be discreet ; never
 
 82 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 speak to your Aunt or anyone but me of any 
 of these things. They are just between us." 
 He says that I am remarkably trustworthy, 
 and that he could not live if he could not tell 
 me about how things are going. He never 
 seems to think of himself. He will sit for ten 
 minutes looking at me without speaking, and 
 suddenly say : 
 
 " Wait, wait ! Just a little time and every 
 thing shall be yours. I will bring the world to 
 you and lay it at your feet," and when he says 
 it I almost believe it to be true for a moment. 
 
 It is only because his nerves are over 
 wrought. (He is nervous to the verge of insan 
 ity sometimes.) It seems to me that I am 
 the only one in the world who could possibly 
 understand his temperament. He says I am. 
 The other night we were at a small reception 
 given by Mrs. Clews. He walked about the 
 house all the time I was putting on my things. 
 I knew that he was so nervous and excited 
 over something that he could hardly control 
 himself. 
 
 When we reached the Clews s he suddenly 
 became another man. For an hour and a half 
 he was calm almost to coldness. He was mag 
 nificent. Mr. Hildreth was there, and once 
 while Edgar and I were talking together we 
 saw him near us. Edrar had taken me a little
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 83 
 
 aside, and was saying nothing, but allowing 
 himself to relax for a moment from the strain 
 under which I knew he was keeping himself. 
 Suddenly he saw Mr. Hildreth, and his tone 
 and attitude and manner changed completely. 
 Where he had seemed almost like a tired, 
 petulant child looking for comfort from me, he 
 suddenly changed to a stern, masterful man 
 without a trace of helplessness or nervousness. 
 
 He said : " This is as good a time as any," 
 and excused himself and went over to Hildreth, 
 and touched his arm. It seemed to me that 
 Mr. Hildreth was positively deferential to him. 
 It was no doubt my imagination, but they dis 
 appeared for a while, and when they returned, 
 Edgar and I left. 
 
 He was his usual self the self that others 
 know, until we were outside. Then he became 
 silent preoccupied. I asked him what he 
 wanted with Mr. Hildreth, and he laughed and 
 said : 
 
 " A little matter of business technicalities 
 that you could not understand." There is a 
 great deal that I cannot understand, and these 
 things he never tells me about, because he says 
 that if he annoyed me with these dry details, I 
 would not listen to him at all by and bye. 
 As though that were true! 
 
 When we reached home, he suddenly took
 
 84 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 me in his arms, and said : " How glorious you 
 are ! It would be nothing to me if you were 
 not to share it with me." 
 
 He talks in such a wild fashion at times. I 
 suppose he means all this honor and attention 
 that he receives. Since it has become certain 
 that his exertions are to carry through the rail 
 road affair to the advantage of Thebes, he 
 seems to have become a sort of god with the 
 Thebans. I don t understand the business 
 part of it very well, but I know that every one 
 thinks that he has done a great thing for the 
 town. When I speak of the gratitude that the 
 people of Thebes should feel, he shrugs his 
 shoulders and changes the subject. Once, he 
 said in a sort of a passion: "For heaven s 
 sake never speak again of anything I seem to 
 have done for Thebes." 
 
 This sensitiveness and modesty are constant 
 with him in everything that he does though 
 the trait seems to be intensified now. 
 
 The other day I stopped at the office and 
 some man was in there talking to Edgar, and 
 said something about his being a public bene 
 factor, and Edgar said, coldly : 
 
 " Don t be grateful too soon, my dear fel 
 low," and when he saw me, his whole face 
 lighted up, and he dismissed the man. 
 
 The man stared at me as he went out, and
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 85 
 
 suddenly Edgar looked like a thunder cloud, 
 and slipped between us a sort of improvised 
 screen for me. He said after the door had 
 closed : 
 
 " I don t want you to come to the office any 
 more things are a little different now." 
 
 They are different because he has grown to 
 thinking of the effect of everything on other 
 people now, instead of just ourselves, as he 
 always has done. He has always said : 
 
 " As long as one has a clear conscience, and 
 is satisfied with one s self, the opinions of other 
 people are of little consequence." 
 
 I don t feel quite comfortable with the 
 change, but he reminded me that circum 
 stances alter cases ; that one must adapt him 
 self to changed situations. I asked him if it 
 was quite right, and he looked at me a long 
 time, and finally said with the old, new deter 
 mination in his face and voice : " We arc to do 
 it" without answering my question. Some 
 how it taught me a lesson. I think I shall 
 never again question anything that he says. 
 His tone, his manner seemed to forbid it, 
 seemed to settle forever any doubt as to a 
 possibility of anything being wrong that he 
 says or decides. 
 
 I was almost astonished at myself after 
 wards, when I realized that I had questioned
 
 86 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 any motive he might have had, or any sugges 
 tion he might have made. A woman like me, 
 questioning the propriety of anything that 
 such a man as Edgar Braine might do f 
 
 Sometimes I try to make up my mind 
 whether he looked more magnificent in his 
 shiny coat with fringed bindings, or in his 
 present immaculate toilet. I can come to no 
 conclusion. The reverence and awe that Ed 
 gar Braine inspired in his shabby suit were 
 overwhelming. The dignity that he lends to 
 his present clothes is well, is simply glorious. 
 He makes the clothes. In either case, one is 
 impressed that clothes are but a matter of con 
 venience, and really of too little importance to 
 be remembered -except long enough to put 
 them on and take them off by Edgar Braine. 
 Such a man as he would be perfect in any 
 clothes.
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 8 7 
 
 X. 
 
 THE doings of Edgar Braine, during the few 
 weeks following his negotiations with Waverley 
 Cooke, were a riddle to those who knew of 
 them ; but Thebes was so well used to his puz 
 zling methods that the little ripple of talk 
 raised at this time did not swell into a wave of 
 chatter, as it might in another man s case. 
 
 In the first place, he borrowed a very con 
 siderable sum of money from Hildreth, and 
 insisted upon so arranging the terms of the 
 loan, that he could repay the money at any 
 time after ninety days, but should be free to 
 retain it for a year upon renewals, if that 
 suited him better. 
 
 Hildreth was willing enough to lend him 
 the money, but he speculated a little as to 
 what Braine was going to do with so large a 
 sum. He did not find out. 
 
 Next, Braine jauntily upset all the plans for 
 the marriage, which he and Helen had so
 
 JUGGERNA UT: 
 
 laboriously formed. It was on the evening of 
 the special charter election that he did this. 
 Up to that day he had worked ceaselessly at 
 the task of persuading the people of Thebes 
 that the best thing they could do with their 
 one valuable municipal possession was to give 
 it away to the Central Railroad Company. 
 He had found time in the interval, however, to 
 see Helen almost every day. He had not con 
 tented himself with supporting the measure 
 in the Enterprise, but had organized support 
 for it in quarters where support was not to be 
 expected, and in quarters in which it was sup 
 posed that he of all men had least influ 
 ence. The machinery of his own political 
 party was easy to handle, but Braine boldly 
 undertook to control that of the opposing 
 party as well. 
 
 A city clerk, to replace the one who had 
 defaulted and run away, was to be chosen by 
 the City Council, in which Braine s own party 
 was dominant. Braine seized upon this cir 
 cumstance as his lever. He boldly offered the 
 place to the leader of the opposite party in 
 return for that party s support of the levee 
 transfer proposal, which, being in no respect a 
 political question, men of either party might 
 advocate or oppose at will. Having made the 
 bargain he set to work to induce the aldermen
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 89 
 
 of his own party to carry it out. He reckoned 
 upon their venality as a stronger motive than 
 their party zeal, and his reckoning was not 
 amiss. 
 
 " Hildreth is to pay those rascals for voting 
 the transfer, of course," he reasoned ; " and 
 they can t vote it unless this election is carried 
 to authorize it. Hildreth isn t fool enough 
 to pay them till the thing is done. Very well. 
 There is a ring in the nose of every scamp of 
 them." 
 
 And it was so. The aldermen were angrily 
 reluctant to surrender a political office, and 
 the one with whom Braine negotiated at 
 first flatly refused. But Braine knew his 
 ground. 
 
 "Very well," he said, "but reflect a little. 
 This election is very close. We need all the 
 help we can get. Davidson has his men per 
 fectly in hand, and now that I ve offered the 
 thing to him he will vote them to a man on 
 the other side if this isn t carried out." 
 
 " Why in thunder did you make him such 
 an offer, then? Nobody authorized it." 
 
 " It is not worth while to discuss that. Call 
 it impertinent intermeddling on my part, if 
 you choose, and ease your mind in that way. 
 But the offer has been made. If you ratify it, 
 we shall carry the charter election. If you
 
 90 JUG GERNA UT : 
 
 refuse, well, you know what the result is likely 
 to be as well as I do." 
 
 The alderman understood perfectly, and was 
 not minded to take risks. The bargain as to 
 the city clerkship was carried out. This was 
 one of many ways in which Braine organized 
 the victory he had set out to win, and during 
 those few short weeks, the people of Thebes 
 discovered a new fact about Edgar Braine ; 
 they learned that he had what they called " a 
 genius for politics." 
 
 When Edgar heard that said, he reflected: 
 "Well, I seem to be developing new qualities 
 rapidly. What with a good head for busi 
 ness, discovered by that expert, Abner Hil- 
 dreth, and a genius for politics, diagnosticated 
 by those eminent specialists the aldermen of 
 Thebes, I ought to make my way, especially 
 as I own a railroad charter and a ferry fran 
 chise. Poor old Waverley Cooke ! I hope he 
 is breathing his native air with a relish by this 
 time. I shall be sorry when the payments to 
 him cease." 
 
 He sighed deeply. Was it over Waverley 
 Cooke, or was he thinking of another wreck? 
 
 As soon as the polls closed after an exciting 
 contest for the opposition had been very de 
 termined Edgar turned his back upon the 
 bustling crowds, and briskly walked away.
 
 A J EfLED RECORD. 91 
 
 Helen met him at the door, though she had 
 not expected him that evening. Somehow she 
 had acquired a habit of always discovering his 
 approach and meeting him in the vestibule, a 
 convenient place for the exchange of certain 
 quasi masonic but we must not intrude upon 
 privacy with prying eyes. 
 
 As she was not expecting him, she was not 
 dressed to receive him, a circumstance in which 
 he rejoiced mightily, her careless costume 
 seeming in his eyes to set off her beauty rav- 
 ishingly. 
 
 She wore a loose gown of a thin, limp goods, 
 Pompeiian red in hue, with flowing sleeves of 
 white, equally limp, and a broad, starchless 
 collar of white to match the sleeves. The 
 gown was belted in at the waist with a rope 
 girdle of dull, oxidized silver. The costume 
 seemed to cling lovingly to the lines of her su 
 perb length, and Braine was at the moment 
 certain that he should never permit her to 
 wear any other. " Man-like," was her com 
 mentary, when he told her this a few weeks 
 later. 
 
 "You are weary," she said, "and it is very 
 warm. Loll here by the windows. No, not 
 in that chair, it is rickety, and you are so big 
 and strong I always expect weak things to 
 break with you. My will did, you know,
 
 92 JUGGERNA UT: 
 
 when you made up your mind to marry me. 
 No, no, you mustn t, now ! people are pass- 
 ing." 
 
 What this last injunction and remark had to 
 do with the subject of conversation, I cannot 
 make out, but that is what Helen said, hur 
 riedly, as she drew back a little. 
 
 " Now you shall not talk to me," she said, as 
 she sank in graceful folds upon the floor, with 
 an ease which made one doubt the existence of 
 bones in her tall person. " You are tired, and 
 I ll do the talking. What shall the subject 
 be?" 
 
 " Tell me of yourself. What have you been 
 doing and thinking ? " 
 
 " Nibbling pickles, sewing, trying to read 
 Browning because you told me to, and carrying 
 pins in my mouth." 
 
 " I thought you promised me not to put pins 
 in your mouth. I gave you a cushion, to bind 
 the bargain." 
 
 " That s why I told you about it. You see 
 I m honest above all things. I get busy and 
 forget, but I m really trying, Edgar." 
 
 " What have you been sewing on ? " 
 
 " I must tell you. (I m too honest.) Clothes." 
 
 " What sort ? " 
 
 "White. Linen and cotton." 
 
 "But what"
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 93 
 
 " Hush ! You re not to talk. Where did 
 Browning get the story of Herve Kiel? Is it 
 historical ? " 
 
 " I can t tell you without talking." 
 
 " Oh, you can talk just a little, you know 
 enough to answer my questions. But I don t 
 care anything about Herve Kiel. I asked be 
 cause I could not think of anything else at the 
 moment. Tell me instead, where our wedding 
 cards should be made Chicago or St. Louis? " 
 
 Taking that evening s Enterprise from the 
 table Edgar read aloud : 
 
 " There is no longer any occasion for citizens of 
 Thebes to incur the delays and uncertainties incident to 
 having printing of any kind done in Chicago or St. Louis. 
 The job office of the Daily Iinterprisc is now perfectly 
 equipped for all work of the kind, from the plainest of 
 posters to the daintiest of wedding invitations." 
 
 " But I won t have printing done at that es 
 tablishment, Mr. Braine." 
 
 "Why not, Miss Thayer ? " 
 
 " I don t approve of its editor." 
 
 "What has the poor fellow done to incur 
 your displeasure ? " 
 
 " Many things. He persists in asking me 
 about the clothes I am making ; he insists 
 upon changing my pretty name, and he is too 
 stingy of his time to take me further than Chi-
 
 94 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 cago for a wedding trip when I am crazy to be 
 stunned and bewildered by the glories of New 
 York." 
 
 " Helen dear," broke in Braine, with a sudden 
 earnestness of protest in his tone, " you know, 
 do you not " 
 
 " Certainly I know, and I perfectly approve 
 that and everything else you do, Ed. Forgive 
 me. I was only teasing." 
 
 At this point there was a brief wait in the 
 dialogue. Then Helen, sitting down on the 
 floor again, resumed in an earnest tone, with 
 her large eyes looking fixedly at her lover : 
 
 " You must never misunderstand me, Ed. 
 You know I am devoted to your interests only. 
 I would not let you spend an hour that you 
 cannot spare from your work, in gratifying me. 
 I was only jesting, dear. You understand me, 
 don t you ? " 
 
 If the words did not make the matter en 
 tirely clear to Braine s intelligence they were 
 helped a good deal by the " eloquent language 
 of signs," and the whole matter was rapidly 
 becoming perfectly lucid, when a knock at the 
 door startled the pair, and caused Helen to 
 withdraw suddenly to a particularly prim and 
 painful Queen Elizabeth chair on the other side 
 of the room. By the time she was uncomfort 
 ably seated, the knock was repeated, and it
 
 A WILED XECORD. 95 
 
 dawned upon her mind that some one should 
 open the door. She did this herself, as on the 
 whole, best. 
 
 " It s Mikey, with a. note for me," said 
 Braine ; " I told Mose Harbell to send him." 
 
 Helen brought in the note, and Braine 
 quietly opened and read it. 
 
 " Please tell Mikey to wait for an answer," 
 he said. " May I have some paper? " 
 
 Helen supplied him, and he wrote. When 
 the messenger was gone, he turned and said : 
 
 " Come here, Helen dear. Kneel down here 
 by my chair. I want to talk to you." 
 
 His manner was a trifle puzzling. It indi 
 cated a good deal of earnestness and some con 
 cern to enforce whatever it was he meant to 
 say ; but there was an inflection of exultation 
 in his voice : 
 
 " I m going to upset all our arrangements, 
 Helen. You needn t have any wedding cards 
 printed at all." 
 
 " Oh Edgar ! " she cried in distress. " What 
 has happened ? Are you ruined in your busi 
 ness, dear? Tell me what it is ? " 
 
 "No, I m not ruined not in my business at 
 least," he added, with a meaning to which 
 Helen had no clew. , " On the contrary, my 
 prospects were never so good before. But 
 you don t need any wedding invitations, dear,
 
 96 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 because we must be married to-night. We 
 leave by the midnight train for a wedding 
 journey to New York." 
 
 " But, Edgar, how absurd ! " 
 
 "Yes, I know it s absurd. Many things I 
 do are so. But it must be, all the same. I 
 have just had the returns from this election. 
 It has gone as I wished, and that involves a 
 good many things among them an immediate 
 journey to New York, and perhaps a stay of 
 several weeks there. I have only been wait 
 ing till Mikey brought me certain news of the 
 result before telling you about this." 
 
 "You mean to tell me that you have sat 
 there chatting with me all this time, with that 
 in your mind, and not telling me a word about 
 it?" 
 
 " I couldn t, you know. You told me not 
 to talk." 
 
 You don t deserve that I should marry you 
 at all." 
 
 " I know it. I ve told you so all along. 
 But the same thing is true of every other man 
 in the world, and so you will have to put up 
 with it." 
 
 " But you re not serious about this, Ed 
 gar?" 
 
 " Perfectly." 
 
 " It s preposterous ! "
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 97 
 
 "Of course it is, but I can t help it." 
 
 " It s out of the question/ 
 
 " Of course it is. Things that are decided 
 are no longer in the question." 
 
 " But seriously, Edgar, I m not ready. I 
 can t be married so suddenly. I haven t any 
 clothes" with that tremendous emphasis on the 
 word clothes which the feminine mind instinc 
 tively places on the idea it represents, where 
 marriage is in question. 
 
 " Seriously, Helen, I know this is a great 
 annoyance to you, and I deeply regret annoy 
 ing you with anything. But it is absolutely 
 necessary for me to go to New York at once, 
 and to remain there for I don t know how 
 long. It means more to me than you can im 
 agine. It means success and power. Perhaps 
 it may mean wealth, also. We were to have 
 been married in July. I may not be able to 
 leave New York then without risk of loss and 
 ruin. So we must be married to-night, and 
 you shall have your vision of New York after 
 all. It is now nine o clock. I will be back 
 here at eleven, with a license and a clergyman. 
 I have written to Mose Harbell to send you a 
 dozen newsboys for messengers. They ll be 
 here soon. He will send genial ones, of 
 course, and they will carry notes summoning 
 all your friends to the wedding. Lily Holliday
 
 98 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 will help you with the notes. You might 
 send for Daisy Berkeley too, or I ll call by 
 there on my way down town, and tell her 
 you ve a romantic secret to confide to her. 
 That will send her to you in five minutes. 
 It would if it were midnight and she in 
 bed." 
 
 With that he hurried away, leaving Helen 
 standing in the middle of the floor in a dazed 
 condition, till Daisy Berkeley, who lived but a 
 little distance away, came hurriedly in to ask : 
 "What is it?" in many and varied forms of 
 words. 
 
 " I could not think of yielding to so pre 
 posterous a plan," said Helen, after she had 
 briefly explained the situation, " but what am 
 I to do ? Edgar is gone, and I can t argue it 
 with him. And the clergyman will be here at 
 eleven, and there come the newsboys now, and 
 I haven t a stitch of clothes ! Oh, what shall I 
 do?" 
 
 " Do ? " cried Daisy. " Why carry the thing 
 through, of course. It s the most deliciously 
 romantic thing I ever heard of in my life. 
 Oh, how I do envy you ! " 
 
 " But what am I to do for clothes, Daisy? 
 And besides, it s so undignified ! " 
 
 "A fig for Dignity ! Vive la Romance ! I ll 
 lend you all my clothes. I always have lots of
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 99 
 
 them, and mamma is sure to know where they 
 are." 
 
 " Daisy Berkeley ! You forget yourself. 
 You are under five feet high, and I am five 
 feet eight inches." 
 
 "Well, never mind about clothes. You 
 have plenty of them. It s all nonsense, the 
 way we women talk about nothing to wear. 
 Somebody wrote a book or something to 
 prove it once. Who would spoil a delicious 
 romance oh, it is so delicious for nonsense 
 like that ! Why, it ll make you the talk of the 
 town." 
 
 "That s just it. I have no desire to be the 
 talk of the town. But there is no help for it 
 now." 
 
 So the two, with Lily Holliday, summoned 
 from next door, set to work upon the notes, 
 while the trunk packing was done by Helen s 
 aunt, who was weeping all the time, till Mary 
 Malony, the maid, who was helping her, 
 exclaimed : 
 
 " Sure mum, it s not packin a thrunk, but a 
 dampenin down of clothes ye are, and they s 
 no ironin convayniences on the cars at all."
 
 100 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 XI. 
 
 FOR a man on his wedding journey Braine 
 seemed to have an extraordinary amount of 
 business to attend to from the first hour of his 
 arrival in New York. Sometimes it occupied 
 his mornings, and sometimes his down town 
 engagements stretched far into the afternoon, 
 though he avoided that as much as possible, 
 and managed almost always to have his even 
 ings free. 
 
 In his hours of freedom he threw off care so 
 completely that if Helen had been capable of 
 doubting anything he said, she would not have 
 believed in his business engagements at all. 
 
 He took her to the theatres, where light 
 summer plays of no possible interest were run 
 ning, and joined in the poor sport with the 
 relish of a boy, and apparently without once 
 thinking of the affairs with which he was 
 toiling down town every day. He sought out 
 all the places where summer music was to be
 
 A VEILED RECORD. IOI 
 
 heard. Me went to the sea side, and would sit 
 on the sands for hours with Helen, idly listen 
 ing to the lazy swash of the surf as it surged 
 in from the indolent summer sea. He 
 watched even the merry-go-rounds with a 
 contagious interest in the joy the children 
 seemed to get out of them. 
 
 And yet all this time Braine was playing a 
 great game, with success or failure for the 
 stakes; a game mainly of skill, at which he 
 was a novice, while his adversaries were veter 
 ans. If he succeeded, nothing was beyond 
 his reach. If he failed but he did not con 
 template failure. It had never been his 
 habit. 
 
 At first, Helen enjoyed the privacy of a 
 stranger in the great town, going and coming 
 at will, knowing nobody and expecting atten 
 tion from nobody. But this was of brief dura 
 tion, and signs that it was destined speedily to 
 end appeared when men of wealth and social 
 prominence began to show themselves at the 
 hotel with Braine, and to seek presentation to 
 herself in her private parlor. 
 
 It was during this blissful period of obscur 
 ity that Helen wrote in the diary : 
 
 We have been in the city now three days. 
 I am happy, but tired out with a rush of new
 
 IO2 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 experiences. I am still in the daze occasioned 
 by the suddenness with which events have 
 occurred. Married, and seeing New York, all 
 in six days, is too much for any woman, even 
 a Western woman. And my wardrobe ! Until 
 this evening I have had no time to think of it. 
 But at this moment it comes to me with terri 
 ble and tragic force that I have just three pre 
 sentable dresses to my name, and these are 
 not so presentable as they seemed before we 
 went down to dinner that first evening. 
 
 By the way, dinner means that of which I 
 have never dreamed before,- and means it at 
 six o clock. In Thebes, dinner meant a sort 
 of juggling at noon ; and supper, a scrabble at 
 six. Dinner here means science, art, and awe 
 some ability in some one. 
 
 For just one moment I was ready to sink 
 through the floor when I entered the dining- 
 room no, we dined in the cafe. (These little 
 distinctions must not escape me, nor be neg 
 lected.) But in an instant I glanced at Edgar, 
 who seemed so unconcerned with surrounding 
 things, and so preoccupied with some weighty 
 matter, that everything but him seemed to 
 sink into insignificance, and by the time I was 
 seated at the table, and remembered the 
 strangeness and magnificence of it all, I had 
 forgotten to be overpowered.
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 103 
 
 I noticed that Edgar was looking at me with 
 a smile and very earnestly once, and when I 
 said, " What is it ? " he replied : 
 
 " Any other woman who had never eaten 
 terrapin would have said that she didn t like 
 it. This dinner has convinced me that you 
 are a wonderful woman." 
 
 I half understood him, and my happiness at 
 having unconsciously pleased him made me 
 blush. The blush itself seemed to delight 
 him, and he said : " Good heavens ! a woman 
 who has had time to enjoy terrapin, and is 
 still able to blush so beautifully ! 
 
 I left the dining-room in a state of mind 
 almost bordering on exaltation. 
 
 People stare very rudely here. Every one 
 looked at us. Edgar did not seem to observe 
 it, but somehow I could not help being consci 
 ous of it. I first thought that they looked at 
 Edgar, but I found they were staring at me 
 too. That was because I was with him. I am 
 more than ever determined to keep up with 
 him as well as I can, that I may be no drag 
 upon his advancement or rather on his efforts 
 to advance others. 
 
 I experience a little suspicion of regret now 
 and then. Edgar and I cannot possibly seem 
 so near to each other while we are amid such 
 startling surroundings, and one has to bear in
 
 1 04 JUGGERNA UT: 
 
 mind, to an extent, that she must not appear 
 too much surprised. 
 
 He has hardly been in the room half an hour 
 at a time since our arrival. He no sooner comes 
 in and gets ready to talk to me, than he receives 
 a card from some one and goes to the parlor 
 he will have no one come to our private parlor. 
 He says " Not yet," and laughs. 
 
 He seems almost fierce sometimes, at the 
 thought of other people even looking at me. 
 He said, when he saw a man looking after me 
 in the hall: "It makes me feel murderous! 
 These men are not fit to breathe the same 
 atmosphere with you. Neither am I, for that 
 matter, any more, but I love you, that makes it 
 different; and what I do is because I love you." 
 
 It delights me cruelly to hear him depreci 
 ate himself not because of that depreciation, 
 but because it illustrates his extraordinary love 
 for me. 
 
 I wish we were in the little cottage at 
 Thebes. The sweet-williams are ravishingly 
 sweet now ; and I would like to have just 
 my dog near when I love Edgar so. He would 
 be so sympathetic ! There is such an aggres 
 sive feeling of selfishness in the air here. 
 Something not quite sympathetic, or clean, or 
 good. It is because it is all new and strange to 
 me, of course, but it certainly seems so. I men-
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 1 05 
 
 tioned this thoughtlessly a while ago, and 
 Edgar threw his arms around me and stopped 
 the words with kisses. I know that he did it 
 so that I would say no more, for his face 
 looked peculiarly pained. His lip quivered 
 for a moment, and that almost frightened me. 
 Such a thing in Edgar means more than even 
 I can divine. In a moment he was gravely gay 
 again. Even in his merriest moments there is 
 a sweet dignity about him that fascinates and 
 commands me. I seem to demand, but he 
 seems to command. There is no other man 
 living whom I could have loved. 
 
 New York, July 2. Until now I have always 
 thought that the day on which I met Edgar 
 was the most marvellous one of my life. I 
 now think it is not so. This has been the 
 most eventful one surely. 
 
 Last night I said to Ed that this morning I 
 must go out and get something to wear. He 
 said, " Very well. While I am down town 
 you can do your shopping." That was all 
 that was said. We breakfasted at nine, and 
 at ten Ed said we had better go, as he must 
 be down town by 10:30. I had no idea where 
 to go or just what to do. There was a certain 
 embarrassment about the situation, but I con 
 cealed the fact, and trusted to Ed s wonderful 
 management and delicacy.
 
 1 06 JUGGERNA UT: 
 
 He was equal to the occasion. Nothing 
 was said as to where I should go, or concern 
 ing means with ^ivJiicJi to go, until we reached 
 the hotel entrance. He put me into a coupe, 
 and said : "The man will take you to an es 
 tablishment where they can tell you what you 
 want without your having to bother about it," 
 and thrust a roll of bills into my hand, threw 
 me a kiss, nodded, smiled, and closed the door. 
 
 The coupe started before I could recover 
 from astonishment. For a minute I sat look 
 ing at the bills in my hand. They made a 
 terrible roll. When I found what he had 
 given me I could only gasp and drop them on 
 the floor. The amount frightened me. I was 
 sure that he had made a mistake, and I put 
 the bills in a separate compartment of my 
 purse, all but fifty dollars, to give them back 
 when I returned. 
 
 We stopped at a ladies tailoring establish 
 ment of some kind. I was really too much 
 overcome and disturbed to know what I was 
 about. The coachman opened the coupe door, 
 and said : 
 
 "Blossom s, madame," and my heart quite 
 stopped beating for a moment. But I sud 
 denly felt the necessity of not displaying my 
 ignorance, for Edgar s sake, and pretended to 
 be preoccupied, and so gained time to look
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 1 07 
 
 about me covertly, and prepare an excuse for 
 my faux pas on my part. 
 
 Well, in about one minute after I entered 
 the parlor, I felt that I had been born passing 
 judgment on styles and fabrics. I seemed to 
 have nothing to do. I said rather abstractedly 
 and indifferently " Something in a street dress. 
 I leave it to you," and made a little inconse 
 quent gesture. In a minute I found everything 
 taken out of my hands, and a man and a woman 
 declaring that they knew at once what madame 
 wished ; they would satisfy me, etc., etc., all 
 in a suddenly changed manner that amazed 
 me. They were treating me like some extra 
 ordinary personage. It was my little gesture 
 of ennui that accomplished this. (By the way, 
 I did not say "dress" a second time, but 
 " gown," which is how considered the proper 
 term.) 
 
 I felt almost like an impostor at first, but I 
 had a desire that Edgar might be there to 
 witness the little performance. I felt that I 
 had, at least, not disgraced him. 
 
 Then I said: "Something in a house 
 gown," when they had settled the street gown. 
 The house gown was decided, and before I 
 knew it they had the most wonderful designs 
 for dinner and reception gowns before me that 
 I ever dreamed of.
 
 IOS JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 I seemed to be in a maze, and acquiesced 
 mechanically in what they proposed. Finally, 
 things seemed to come to an end, and I asked 
 for my bill. They were to supply the mate 
 rials, calculate the cost, etc. They seemed a 
 little surprised, and said I could attend to that 
 at my convenience when I came to-morrow. 
 I suddenly felt panic-stricken and determined 
 to find out the extent of my madness. I in 
 sisted in a peremptory and dignified way 
 saying I preferred to settle such little matters 
 on the spot. They kept me waiting half an 
 hour, and then handed me the bill. 
 
 It makes me faint now to think of that 
 moment. I sat staring at the paper. It 
 amounted to one hundred and fifty dollars 
 more than was in that roll of bills ! I felt my 
 hair make an attempt to stand erect. I me 
 chanically opened my purse, and handed them 
 the money that was to have been returned to 
 Edgar, and said in a voice that I did not 
 recognize as my own : " That is all I happen 
 to have with me I will attend to the other 
 trifle to-morrow." 
 
 Trifle ! ! The remainder was more than I 
 had ever spent for clothes before in a year. It 
 never occurred to me that I could counter 
 mand the order. I felt that I was helpless and 
 in the hands of the Philistines. I gave them
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 1 09 
 
 my address, fully determined to get back to 
 the hotel and smuggle Edgar off before the 
 next morning, before the " trifle " could be 
 asked for. 
 
 I kept saying all the way : " We are just 
 married. We are just married. Men always 
 forgive things when they are just married!" 
 I said it over and over. 
 
 When we stopped at the hotel entrance 
 some one opened the door at once. It was 
 Edgar. He was smiling and helping me out, 
 and saying that he had been smoking and 
 waiting for me. I prayed that I might sink 
 right down through the coal-hole in the side 
 walk. 
 
 I did not speak, and Edgar said, anxiously: 
 "Your shopping has been too much for you, 
 dear. You look pale and tired out!" I 
 thought of that trifling balance, and nearly 
 staggered. I said, " No, oh no! " and got into 
 our rooms in some way. 
 
 To think that I, Helen Braine, who never 
 possessed more than three gowns at once, the 
 wife of a man who had had to wear coats with 
 frayed edges, should have spent a small for 
 tune in two hours, and that there was still a 
 "balance"! And it had yet to be told of! 
 That was the worst. I expected to hear him 
 say every minute :
 
 I IO JUGGERNA UT: 
 
 " By the way, my dear, I made a little mis 
 take this morning, and gave you the wrong 
 amount of money. I knew you would under 
 stand it." 
 
 Well, when we were inside our rooms, with 
 the door shut, I leaned up against the wall. 
 Edgar saw there was something terrible the 
 matter, and he looked quite pale and said : 
 "What is it?" 
 
 I was waiting for him to say : " You 
 haven t spent all the money! " and kept think 
 ing to myself very hard " Men always forgive 
 things when they are just married." 
 
 Finally, I said, " Edgar, how much money 
 have you?" And then he stared at me. He 
 laughed, and said : " How mercenary shop 
 ping expeditions do make women ! " 
 
 I thought I should drop down in one minute 
 more, and hoped that I should die. I asked if 
 he had enough to settle our bill and get out of 
 town. He said afterward that he thought I 
 had suddenly developed a propensity for shop 
 lifting, and had been discovered, and that he 
 would have to smuggle me out of the city. 
 
 He looked very serious though when I 
 asked the question, and said : " Certainly, 
 dear. We will not stay a moment longer than 
 you wish to." He asked what had happened. 
 I managed to gasp that I had spent all the
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 1 1 1 
 
 money. He looked puzzled and said : " Well, 
 go on. What is the matter?" and I repeated 
 that I had spent all the money. It seemed 
 heartless for him to torture me by making me 
 repeat it. 
 
 He looked still more puzzled, and said: 
 " Yes, well, what about it ? " I said : " And 
 there s a a balance a trifle." 
 
 He answered : " Of course well ? " And 
 then I don t know what happened then. I 
 was sobbing, and Edgar kept frantically pour 
 ing cologne over me, and kissing me and say 
 ing: "Don t cry, for heaven s sake, Helen," 
 and by degrees he managed to understand the 
 situation, and before I knew it he was lying 
 back in a chair fairly shouting with laughter, 
 and my hair was dripping wet, and I felt as 
 though I had passed through the resurrection, 
 and found myself on the right side. 
 
 I finally found that there was no mistake, 
 except that I had not spent the money for the 
 right things ; that I was supposed to have 
 purchased all the little things like gloves and 
 shoes and hats and a hundred other trifles 
 with that, and that this frightful bill was to 
 have been sent in to Edgar or me, beside, and 
 settled then. 
 
 I may live to be a thousand, but that ter 
 rible hour will always be fresh in my memory.
 
 1 12 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 I was not unhappy. I experienced a despair 
 that was truly tragic. And the reaction that 
 followed ! 
 
 Edgar Braine was never so dear and great 
 and glorious before to me. He held me in 
 his arms for two hours and let me cry. He 
 tried to be sympathetic and serious, but every 
 few moments he would burst out in an uncon 
 trollable fit of laughter. He, too, says that he 
 will never forget that hour. 
 
 I am still dazed over the situation. But the 
 relief ! Oh, the relief ! 
 
 He says that I am to carry no money here 
 after, for I don t like it. It seems I don t 
 know what. I don t like to handle it, and he 
 says that I am to get anything and everything 
 I want, and have the bills sent to him, and 
 he will attend to them. 
 
 I shall know how to deport myself to-mor 
 row, and know about what I want, for I find 
 that I unconsciously noticed everything this 
 morning, and am pretty well informed. 
 
 If I had not had that thought, that newly 
 married men cannot be very severe at any 
 rate I don t tliink they can, judging by Edgar 
 while I was coming home, to sustain me, I 
 do not think I could have endured that terri 
 ble hour."
 
 A VEILEJJ RECORD. 1 1 3 
 
 XII. 
 
 IT was about the time of Helen s shopping 
 expedition that Braine began to present cer 
 tain select gentlemen of his acquaintance to 
 Helen in their private parlor. Their visits 
 were promptly followed by attentions that sur 
 prised her not a little. Their wives, sisters, 
 and daughters journeyed from Newport, Rich 
 field and Long Branch to call upon her, and, 
 as Gladys Van Duyn said, when she called 
 with her fiance young Grayson " to snatch 
 her as a brand from the burning of a scorching 
 July." By this, Gladys merely meant that 
 she had come for the purpose of taking 
 possession of Helen, and carrying her bodily 
 out of town " to where you can get your 
 breath, dear, and see civilized people again." 
 
 Gladys had come reluctantly, and only 
 because old Van Duyn had given her orders to 
 that effect by telegraph. He had told her that 
 Helen was beautiful, accomplished and fasci-
 
 1 1 4 JUGGERNA UT: 
 
 nating, by way of softening the command to 
 his daughter, though he wrote and sent the 
 telegram half an hour before he was presented 
 to the woman whom he thus confidently com 
 mended. 
 
 Gladys was not much given to trusting her 
 father s judgment of women, or his accuracy 
 of statement, where he had an object in view, 
 and so that part of the dispatch she counted as 
 so many superfluous words, paid for without 
 occasion ; but she understood clearly enough 
 that her papa, for some reason connected with 
 business all his reasons centred in business 
 meant her to make as much as possible of 
 Helen Braine, and so she arrived in the city 
 fully prepared to pretend a great liking for the 
 wild Westerner with big feet, whom she ex 
 pected to find there. 
 
 Perhaps the agreeable surprise helped, but, 
 whatever the cause, Gladys Van Duyn fell in 
 love with Helen at first sight, and went rejoic 
 ingly back to Dorp House, the family place 
 on the Sound, where the Van Duyns were 
 accustomed to entertain their friends by 
 platoons, and make a revel of the summer. 
 
 Gladys was a prudent young women, whose 
 twenty summers had not been misspent; so, 
 when she saw Helen and arranged to have her 
 for a guest during an indefinite period, she
 
 A VEILED RECORD. I I 5 
 
 decided that Grayson should put his yacht out 
 of commission immediately, and rest himself 
 with a little stay in Switzerland. Grayson 
 accepted the arrangement, under the impres 
 sion that he had been eagerly contemplating 
 something of the sort for months, and his 
 departure was made so promptly that the only 
 thought he had time to give to Helen was that 
 she was a " dooced fine woman, don t you 
 know." 
 
 Braine remained in the city during the day, 
 but joined Helen in the evening at the sumptu 
 ous Van Duyn summer place. 
 
 Helen was puzzled to understand it all, and 
 in her bewilderment she questioned Edgar a 
 little as to the cause of her sudden finding 
 of favor in the eyes of people who had known 
 nothing of her till then, and that, too, in a 
 society which is not much given to looking 
 beyond its own borders for people to " take 
 up." 
 
 Braine laughed and said: "You are much 
 too modest, Helen. You never did appreciate 
 your own charms," and Helen, upon thinking 
 the matter over, found a sufficient explanation 
 in the thought that nobody could possibly 
 come in contact with her Edgar without 
 recognizing his superiority of mind and char 
 acter, and wanting to make him an intimate.
 
 1 1 6 JUGGEKNA UT : 
 
 " These men have met him down town," she 
 reflected, "and have been charmed with him, 
 of course. In order to get as close to him as 
 possible, they have taken up poor me. Well, 
 that places a duty on me. I must acquit 
 myself as well as I can, for dear Ed s sake." 
 
 And how she did acquit .herself ! 
 
 Gladys Van Duyn wrote rapturous reams 
 about her new friend to all her old friends 
 at Newport and elsewhere, and in angular, up 
 and down characters, which allowed but three 
 words to the line, and five lines to the page, 
 sang Helen s praises in so many keys that only 
 its scattered condition in summer cantonments 
 saved the feminine part of New York society 
 from panic lest the new star should elect to 
 pass the winter in the metropolitan firmament. 
 
 Gladys encouraged confidence and order 
 somewhat by assuring her friends, and especi 
 ally her enemies, to whom, of course she sent 
 her longest and most affectionate epistles, that 
 Helen was "awfully much married to the 
 dearest fellow in the world, and hasn t a 
 notion of flirting in her." 
 
 In the mean time, Helen confided her emo 
 tions and experiences mainly to her diary, 
 though her writing in that literary work varied 
 considerably in frequency and fulness according 
 to her moods and the demands upon her time.
 
 A VEILED RECORD. I 1 7 
 
 [From Helenas Diary.] 
 
 Jiily, 1 8 . This has been a very delightful 
 day. I must record its happenings while Edgar 
 is out. There is no moment that can be spared 
 to record anything when he is here. 
 
 This morning I again went shopping. There 
 is something delightful in being able to walk 
 into a shop with the assurance that you are 
 going to buy something. I do not mean to be 
 extravagant. I seem to have regained my 
 mental equilibrium to some extent, and am 
 able to select judiciously what I want ; and 
 besides it would be something of an effort to 
 me, I think, to be extravagant. I have had to 
 be economical so long, and extravagance seems 
 vulgar. There is no pleasure in having more 
 things than one wants, and no delicate mind 
 can rejoice in spending money merely for the 
 sake of spending. In fact, the idea that I 
 need have nothing to do with that part of the 
 matter multiplies the enjoyment of the indul 
 gence a hundredfold. 
 
 I have selected some charming things, and 
 my gowns will be very beautiful. They have 
 enabled me to understand myself better. 
 They interpret my points, as it were, and I am 
 now capable of making telling suggestions. I
 
 1 1 8 JUG GERNA UT: 
 
 have decided to have nothing fashionable. 
 Everything shall illustrate style, not fashion. 
 There is something intolerable in the thought 
 that you are wearing your clothes like a mani 
 kin ; to walk in the streets and be conscious of 
 a Vanderbilt on one side, with clothing far 
 richer than you have on, which you have tried 
 to copy, as well as limited means will enable 
 you ; and on the other side, a shop girl, and 
 behind her, a washerwoman, who are reflections 
 of your fashion, but falling as far short of you 
 as you do of the woman whose purse is on the 
 Vanderbiltean scale ; to know that there is 
 this eternal similarity to be seen among the 
 entire multitudes ! 
 
 I have decided that fashion is intolerable, 
 and style indispensable. I have decided my 
 own style. I shall not change it. It could not 
 be improved for me, and so there is no justifi 
 cation for a change. I think a woman s style 
 should be illustrative of her mind. Of course, 
 if she has no mind of her own, then one does 
 not expect her to have a style of her own. I 
 have a mind of my own. 
 
 Edgar says we are to remain here six weeks 
 longer, and then return to Thebes for a little 
 time. While every moment here is one of hap 
 piness, I cannot help a little longing for the 
 cottage, as we had planned it. I believe I
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 1 19 
 
 would even have foregone all these charming 
 new things for it. I do not have Edgar en 
 tirely to myself, but after all, I experience such 
 a delight after waiting a time for him to 
 come, that it may be an advantage. 
 
 He seems to regard me with wonder, amaze 
 ment almost. Last night, he looked at me for 
 a long time and finally said : 
 
 "Honor is well lost for you." 
 
 It made me shiver a little to hear him speak 
 so, and I put my hand over his mouth, but at 
 the same time it gave me a thrill of happiness 
 as it would even had he said, " I could com 
 mit murder for you," for nothing could express 
 his love as that did. 
 
 If he loves me better than honor, I know 
 how well that is. Is not honor dearer to Ed 
 gar Braine than his life ? It is strange how 
 women can even love wickedness when they 
 are the cause of it. 
 
 I think I shall never be able fully to enjoy 
 anything because of my astonishment. Edgar 
 says every little while, with my face between 
 his hands : " You astonished child, how I love 
 you ! " 
 
 There is nothing in heaven above nor on 
 this earth so wonderful and glorious as married 
 life. Sometimes I do not know what I say or 
 do. I am seized with a sudden ecstasy. At
 
 I2O JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 these times I find myself wondering if I have 
 done or said anything that Edgar might not 
 approve. I sometimes fear that I may not be 
 quite womanly. I do not know why, but I 
 feel so, and when I tried to explain it, he held 
 me away from him and smiled a little with 
 his eyes, and said in his dearest voice- ^Yes, 
 quite womanly," and then he drew me to him 
 and said : " Whatever you say or do I am sure 
 to approve. Whatever you say or clo is your 
 right," and then I went off into an ecstasy right 
 then, and forgot again what I said or did, and 
 so I was very glad that he approved, and that 
 it was very womanly and right.
 
 A VF.rr.F.n KRCORD. 121 
 
 XIII. 
 
 [From Helen s Diary, j 
 
 A FEW evenings ago some gentlemen called 
 to see Edgar. He entertained them here in our 
 own parlor, and something in their manner 
 produced a great change in my way of looking 
 at matters. 
 
 I had been in a species of revolt against 
 Edgar s way of directing me how I was to 
 receive the different women who called upon 
 me how I was to be very deferential to this 
 one, haughty to that one, and to assume an 
 easy familiarity with the other, all according to 
 their husbands relations to Edgar s business. 
 He seemed to be making use of me, and the 
 sense of being made use of in that way was 
 degrading, especially as it involved insincerity 
 in my manner toward these women. But 
 when I saw how these men of wealth and 
 influence treated Edgar, it opened my eyes to
 
 1 2 2 JUG GEKNA UT : 
 
 my stupidity. They recognized him in every 
 way as a superior, a man to be heard with 
 deference, and whose opinions were to be 
 treated with profound respect. 
 
 As I listened and watched, a mingled feeling 
 of exaltation and humiliation swept over me ; 
 exaltation in the thought that this superior 
 man loved me and had made me his wife, and 
 shame that I had ventured, even in my own 
 mind, to question his instructions. I resolved 
 then that I would devote my life to the task 
 of making myself a fit companion for him, and 
 would never again assume to doubt anything 
 he might say or do. There will always be 
 things that I cannot understand, of course, but 
 that is because I am not his equal in ability 
 and knowledge, and I can at least accept his 
 superior judgment concerning them. 
 
 One of the gentlemen was charming, a Mr. 
 Van Duyn. His daughter, Gladys, was to call 
 upon me the next day, and Edgar had been at 
 great pains to impress me with the importance 
 of receiving her in just the right way. I was 
 to wait for her to make all the advances, and 
 to receive them with becoming appreciation. 
 I almost hated the girl in advance, till I saw 
 her father. Then that feeling passed away. 
 He is a somewhat grave gentleman, whose 
 earnestness impresses one. I liked him and
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 12 3 
 
 decided that I should like his daughter very 
 much. 
 
 After they left, Edgar stood at the window 
 looking down into the streets below. He 
 seemed to have forgotten me. My heart was 
 so full of pride and a desire to be with him in 
 everything, that I was oppressed and could 
 not speak. It seemed to me that we had 
 come to a fork in the road, and I must decide 
 whether I should go with him, or travel the 
 other path alone. There already seemed to 
 be a little distance between us. I felt the 
 tears coming into my eyes, and I went to the 
 window and touched him. He turned and 
 looked at me with a little smile, but he looked 
 abstracted and a little sorrowful. I could no 
 longer endure it and I burst into sobs. He 
 took me at once in his arms and soothed me, 
 but it was in a way that impressed me with 
 the thought that I was a child to him, who 
 was irresponsible and needed protection, 
 instead of a woman who shared, his hopes and 
 ambitions and thoughts. 
 
 I suddenly threw my arms about him, and 
 begged him to let me help him, and to make 
 me understand all things that he strove for. 
 The half shadow on his face disappeared, and 
 a strange gladness took its place. He held me 
 very close and said solemnly :
 
 124 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 " Our life, love and ambition, failure or suc 
 cess, shall be mutual. We are man and wife 
 what can mean more?" 
 
 I met Miss Van Duyn the next day. I will 
 say little of her. She is a woman I love. 
 Strangely enough, I could not try a system of 
 propitiation. I looked at her and thought "This 
 is my equal." She is neither superior nor infe 
 rior to me, and she seemed to know it at once. 
 She is calm, cold, dignified, with a high 
 bred trick of hand and head ; sweet toned and 
 fascinating. There is something subtle about 
 her. I was impressed the moment she entered 
 the room with her immaculateness, her irre- 
 proachableness of thought and feeling. She is 
 a woman who might be greatly good or greatly 
 wicked I believe though one instinctively 
 believes her to be greatly good. There has 
 sprung up between us a strange intimacy no 
 familiarity whatever, but a dignified intimacy. 
 
 Edgar was at first half amazed, and then 
 held out his arms and said : " I ought to have 
 known, though, that it would be so ; that my 
 wife did not need experience to make her 
 prized even by the most experienced of peo 
 ple." 
 
 I took luncheon with Miss Van Duyn yester 
 day. To-night Edgar and I dined with her at 
 Delmonico s. I am tired and in a sort of maze,
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 125 
 
 but have felt impelled to write while Edgar 
 was down-stairs, smoking. I hear him coming 
 down the corridor now. I know his step as 
 well as his voice. This dinner to-night has 
 affected me peculiarly. It has seemed to open 
 to me a new life, a life that is almost as 
 desirable as the one I have dreamed of the 
 life in the cottage at Thebes, with my editor 
 and his great plans, and his greater love. It 
 is a life of beauty and intelligence and luxury. 
 It has impressed me strangely. I have a feel 
 ing that perhaps, in time, even I would not be 
 out of place there with Edgar who would 
 reign there. I 
 
 A man is in the door way. He has stood 
 watching the woman at the table, who has 
 written on unconscious of his presence, for a 
 moment. 
 
 She sits with her delicate face turned half 
 towards him, her graceful, sunny head bent 
 over the paper, one white hand guiding her 
 pen, the other resting on the paper. 
 
 There is a magnetism, a sweetness, a rare 
 charm and simplicity about her. And one 
 looks at the man in the door-way, and knows 
 that they are man and wife, of a truth.
 
 126 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 XIV. 
 
 HELEN had no opportunity to decline 
 Gladys Van Duyn s invitation to Dorp House, 
 the Van Duyn summer place on the Sound, 
 even if she had been reluctant to go thither, 
 as, in a certain way, she was. She craved 
 seclusion with her husband, but she also 
 craved a fuller immersion in that life of ease 
 and art and culture in which she had as yet 
 only dabbled with her feet. She was a trifle 
 appalled by her own ignorance of the ways of 
 that life, and shrank a little from it, as one 
 shrinks from the cold bath while still desiring 
 its shock. 
 
 But there was no choice left to her. Gladys 
 Van Duyn was a peremptory little lady, accus 
 tomed to have her own winning way, and 
 moreover, the whole matter had been arranged 
 between the elder Van Duyn and Braine 
 before it was mentioned to Helen at all. 
 
 Dorp House was within easy reach of the
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 12J 
 
 city, so that no business obstacle interposed. 
 It would be infinitely pleasantcr for Helen to 
 rest there than to swelter in a hotel ; Van 
 Duyn and Braine had need of many and pro 
 longed conferences over the business opera 
 tions in which they were engaged, and Van 
 Duyn wished Braine to meet a number of 
 gentlemen whose connection with that busi 
 ness it was necessary to conceal as much as 
 possible. These were so often Van Duyn s 
 guests in summer that the necessary confer 
 ences with them could be had at Dorp House 
 without observation, whereas any meeting in 
 town would have set tongues wagging. 
 
 Thus all arguments pointed in one way, and 
 it only remained for Helen to discover that 
 the change would be beneficial to Braine, on 
 whom heat and work were beginning to have 
 some effect, in order that she should dismiss 
 all her little fears and hesitations. 
 
 It was not until she had grown somewhat 
 used to the sumptuous but easy hospitality of 
 the house that she again resumed her diary. 
 
 [From Helen s Diary.] 
 
 I have had no time to write for many days. 
 I am living in a whirl of excitement, and yet
 
 1 2 8 fUG GERNA UT: 
 
 there is no occasion for excitement, as I am 
 made to feel that I can really do precisely as I 
 please. 
 
 The charm of this house s hospitality is that 
 it sets one free. I need never go anywhere, 
 or make the least apology for not going. I 
 need not go to bed or get up till I like. I 
 need never appear at a meal if I wish to stay 
 away, and I need not wonder what anybody 
 will think. And yet I feel as if I were in a 
 whirl of excitement, I suppose because all the 
 people about me are so bright, and the 
 atmosphere so intellectual. Every species of 
 high thought is represented here. Among 
 the guests are artists, connoisseurs, musicians, 
 authors, statesmen, financiers, and a world of 
 brilliant and beautiful women. Good taste 
 seems the only law existing or necessary in 
 this society. It never occurred to me before, 
 but good taste seems to be a complete code of 
 morals, whose observance renders all other 
 statutes unnecessary. 
 
 Edgar is ever the lover, one whose caresses 
 and endearments are never exhausted, and 
 there is endless delight in the thought that my 
 life holds nothing but to-morrows with him. 
 
 Gladys is altogether such as I imagined her 
 to be at first sight a charming, delicate 
 woman, full of affection that never blunders,
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 129 
 
 and is never lacking in tact. She is the most 
 graceful hostess in the world. When I see her 
 jn this capacity, a sudden longing to have such 
 a home, and such opportunities to bring about 
 me such men and women, comes over me. I 
 never mentioned this to Edgar until last night, 
 for I feared he would think me dissatisfied 
 and that is impossible. I must always be 
 happy where he is. 
 
 The cottage at Thebes is not forgotten, and 
 at times, amid all this luxury and charm, I 
 long for it with Edgar all to myself. 
 
 Last night I said something that conveyed 
 my thought to him, quite by accident. I was 
 confused for a moment afterward, and wanted 
 to turn it off ; but a sudden happy light came 
 into Ed s eyes, and he said : " You would like 
 to live like this ? " I admitted it a little reluc 
 tantly, but told him that I would be just as 
 well satisfied, though, when we were back in 
 Thebes. He said that he was glad to know 
 that this life made me happy, and that if I had 
 not the ambition for it, at least the life would 
 not be distasteful to me ; that in another year 
 I should entertain these same people in my 
 own house, and that that house should be where 
 I wished it to be. 
 
 This produced in me a strange emotion. It 
 was one of joyous intoxication and regret. I
 
 130 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 don t know what the regret was for, and it van 
 ished in a moment. 
 
 Every one is very attentive to us. Edgar at 
 once took the reins in his own hands. There 
 seemed to be no effort on his part. He ap 
 peared to be almost unconscious of it. They 
 are people whom he had never seen before, 
 but people that every one hears of. There is 
 something almost aggressively non-aggressive 
 in Edgar s manner. It is impossible that he 
 should appear in any company or walk through 
 a room without impressing every one who sees 
 him. 
 
 To-night there were some strange guests at 
 dinner, and I was seated next to one of them, 
 while Edgar took in Gladys. My neighbor 
 did not understand that I was Edgar s wife, 
 and during dinner the conversation turned on 
 some public question, and some one referring to 
 Edgar for his opinion, he gave it. He seemed 
 to forget the company after a moment, he was 
 so deeply interested in the subject, and talked 
 on. Every one at the table seemed suddenly 
 to cease talking, and to be listening intently to 
 him. I forgot them, myself, everything but 
 Edgar and his voice. There is a quality in his 
 voice that I have never known in any other 
 person s. It is a magnetic quality that com 
 pels one, that fascinates one.
 
 A VEILED RECOKD. 131 
 
 When he stopped speaking every one was 
 silent for a moment, and then a murmur of ap 
 proval ran round the table. 
 
 The man next to me turned and said : " Do 
 you remember the gentleman s name ? " and I 
 said, " Yes, Mr. Braine," and he said with a 
 sudden surprise, " The man who has just 
 Why, he is a statesman ; I had thought him 
 only a speculator ! " 
 
 He said it with a funny little snap of his 
 teeth, and a decisive nod. I did not dare say 
 that I was Edgar s wife. I felt that I deserved 
 punishment for daring to be his wife. I can 
 not be interested in the conversation of people, 
 unless they are talking of him. Every one 
 seems to have discovered this, and so they all 
 talk to me a great deal of him. 
 
 One or two of the gentlemen here I do not 
 like particularly. I seem to afford them a 
 certain amusement, and they endeavor to cor 
 ner me on every occasion, and talk to me. 
 
 One of them said last night : "You are one 
 of the most naive women that I have ever 
 known." It made me a little angry for some 
 reason, and I told Edgar about it afterward, 
 and he held my face in his hands and said : 
 " Well, you certainly are," and his eyes 
 smiled. I seemed to like it when Edgar said 
 it.
 
 132 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 There is a Mr. Everet coming to-morrow. 
 Every one seems to enjoy the anticipation of 
 his visit. Gladys talks a great deal of him. 
 He is evidently a very superior man. We 
 leave here to-morro\v night, and return to 
 Thebes. I have a little curiosity to meet the 
 man, and hope that he will come before we 
 leave. 
 
 August. We are still at Dorp House, and 
 do not leave for some days yet. Mr. Everet 
 came yesterday morning. He is a charming 
 man, and reminds me of Edgar in many ways. 
 He is a dignified man, too. I do not like men 
 who do not impress me as earnest and grave. 
 He is a courtly sort of man. I was very anx 
 ious to see him, for I desired to compare im 
 partially Edgar and a man who is so much 
 sought after and lauded for his brilliancy. 
 
 Well, I have seen him. Edgar is only the 
 more magnificent. Mr. Everet and he seem to 
 appreciate each other greatly. They smoke 
 together and have had a long talk. They 
 seem to have a great respect for each other s 
 opinions though they do not agree. 
 
 After dinner this evening, Mr. Everet came 
 out on the piazza where I was sitting, and we 
 had a delightful talk for an hour. I did not 
 feel at all embarrassed. I have never felt just 
 that since we left Thebes. I feel often that I
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 133 
 
 am not the equal of many of those whom I 
 meet, in an intellectual way, and I regret it, 
 but I have the assurance that I am honest in 
 doing my best for Edgar, and that they will 
 overlook any mistake of mine, kindly, as I am 
 his wife. 
 
 We talked of many things, and finally he re 
 gretted that we were going so soon, and hoped 
 that he would see us in Washington his in 
 terests are there, and he spends the winters 
 there, and does something politically. I don t 
 know anything about that. I told him about 
 Thebes, and that we were to live there ; that 
 we had taken a cottage, and that I did not 
 suppose that we could go to Washington for a 
 long time, as I thought we should have to be 
 quite economical. 
 
 For some reason I found myself talking very 
 confidentially to him, and we seemed to have 
 known each other a long time. I told him 
 about the people at Thebes, and the Enter 
 prise, and that it was just possible that some 
 time we could live somewhere else, and differ 
 ently a little like this. 
 
 He listened very attentively and sympathet 
 ically. There seemed to be a puzzled and sur 
 prised expression on his face at first, but soon 
 it disappeared, and he smiled and said medita 
 tively : " Yes, I understand."
 
 134 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 After a while I happened to look up, and 
 Edgar stood leaning against the railing, watch 
 ing me. There was a beautiful look in his 
 eyes, and he and Mr. Everet looked at each 
 other and smiled. 
 
 I thought they seemed a little amused, but 
 very much pleased. I asked Edgar afterwards, 
 and he said, He could never look otherwise 
 than pleased when listening to me, could he? 
 
 I presume he can t. 
 
 It was with a little sigh of regret that Helen 
 received the final summons for an immediate 
 return to Thebes. She reproached herself for 
 the feeling, and resolutely made up her mind 
 that her one supreme longing was to begin the 
 quiet life she had planned to lead with Braine, 
 in the little white cottage, with the bed of 
 sweet-williams before the door. 
 
 Gladys had solemnly promised to visit her 
 there during Lent, when, " Society is so deadly 
 dull, you know." (A promise which she kept, 
 making Thebes her place of retirement and 
 meditation in preparation for her marriage 
 after Easter.) 
 
 Braine set out on the return journey with a 
 peculiar buoyancy of spirits which helped to 
 drive away Helen s little regrets.
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 135 
 
 "Never mind, dear," he said, as they took 
 their places in the palace car, you have not 
 seen the last of your New York friends. You 
 shall spend winters there before you are many 
 years older. I have only to emphasise myself 
 in Thebes, and then we shall seek larger 
 pastures." 
 
 " But hasn t this trip cost you a great deal 
 of money, Ed ? " 
 
 " Well, it hasn t impoverished me, at any 
 rate," he answered, with his queer smile. 
 " Perhaps that is because I am not altogether 
 the paymaster." 
 
 But he did not explain.
 
 1 36 JUGGERNA UT: 
 
 XV. 
 
 ABNER HILDRETH was closeted in the parlor 
 of his bank with a grave, but eager-faced man 
 of perhaps fifty, who sat with his left hand 
 doubled up into a fist, while he snapped the 
 spaces between the knuckles with the fingers of 
 the right, making a succession of little nervous 
 snaps, which would have annoyed a more 
 irritable person than Hildreth. 
 
 The banker had been reading aloud to his 
 companion, and half a dozen copies of the 
 Thebes Daily Enterprise lay open on a chair 
 by his side. Hildreth had been reading the 
 leading articles one after the other, and had 
 just concluded, the series. 
 
 " I don t like the looks of it, Duncan. I 
 don t know what it all means, or how much." 
 
 " Perhaps he is only guessing, and getting 
 things wrong. These newspaper men often do 
 that, you know." 
 
 " Yes returned Hildreth, meditatively,
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 137 
 
 " but Braine isn t that sort. He is apt. to sur 
 prise you just the other way. When you 
 squeeze him to see if he knows what he has 
 been saying, you re apt to find out he knows a 
 eood deal more. He s a cautious fellow, and 
 
 l"> 
 
 not too previous." [Hildreth s speech declines 
 to reduce itself to subjection, and must be 
 reported faithfully.] " Besides, I particularly 
 cautioned him when he began this series on 
 Thebes as a Railroad Centre, to go slow, and 
 deal in glittering generalities. I told him we 
 weren t quite ready to cull the hand yet." 
 
 " What did he say?" 
 
 " Not much. He said he understood the 
 situation, and I suppose he really thought so. 
 I m afraid he s upset the milk pail. I wish I d 
 taken him into full confidence." 
 
 " I wish you had, almost. But if you had, 
 we should have had to let him in a good deal 
 deeper than we intend. I suppose he s keen 
 enough to know how thick the butter is on 
 a slice of bread, when he gets a good look 
 at it?" 
 
 " Keen enough ? Yes, he s keen enough for 
 anything. I m afraid he s been too keen for us. 
 I don t know what he s up to, or how much he 
 knows, but it looks serious. Maybe after all it 
 would have been cheaper to let him in on the 
 ground floor, instead of pretending. What if
 
 1 3 8 JUGGERNA UT: 
 
 he s leased the ground floor himself, and made 
 up his mind to turn us out ? " 
 
 " Had he money enough for that?" 
 
 " No, I suppose not. But brains count 
 sometimes, and he s got brains. Couldn t you 
 find out anyway what Van Duyn means to 
 do?" 
 
 "No. He said he was in other things, and 
 couldn t go in with us. Of course that means 
 whatever he wanted it to mean. With a man 
 of his wealth and banking connections, being 
 in one thing or twenty things, don t prevent 
 his going into others. But whether he s up to 
 anything or not, I couldn t find out." 
 
 " Well, it looks bad. Braine played it very 
 sharp on me when he got that charter and 
 ferry franchise. I didn t know he knew of 
 their existence, or would dream of their value 
 if he did. Then he went to New York and 
 got in with a lot of people there. I don t 
 know how. Then came the sudden drop in 
 Northern stock before we began selling short. 
 Somebody must have been selling it quietly 
 for days. Then when we went in to buy, you 
 couldn t get a controlling interest at any price, 
 and all we can make out is that a big block of 
 it is held off the market. Now comes this 
 series of articles." 
 
 " Read that last paragraph again."
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 139 
 
 Hildreth took up the paper and read : 
 
 " These plans are now about matured, and 
 the hopes of Thebes approach fruition. It is 
 yet too soon to publish particulars, but this 
 much, at any rate, may be stated. A strong 
 body of capitalists have secured control of the 
 lines south of Columbia. Associated with 
 them are the owners of the franchise for the 
 connecting line between Thebes and Columbia. 
 Contracts for the rapid construction of that 
 line have been let, and the road will be in 
 operation by the new year. Negotiations are 
 in progress, or soon will be, for a traffic 
 arrangement with the roads running north 
 from Thebes, and there is now every assurance 
 that the great tide of commerce between the 
 North and South will speedily flow through 
 this city." 
 
 The two sat silent for a time after the read 
 ing was done. Then Duncan said : 
 
 " Hildreth, there s more behind that ; the 
 fellow has a masked battery of some kind. 
 Let s have the others down at once." 
 
 Hildreth rang for a clerk to whom he said : 
 
 " Telegraph to Tucker and Fanning to come 
 down by the night express without fail, and 
 meet Duncan here at ten in the morning. 
 Say it s imperative." 
 
 When the clerk had gone, Duncan asked :
 
 1 40 JUGGERNA UT: 
 
 " What shall we do about Braine, in the 
 mean time? " 
 
 " That s what puzzles me. On the whole, 
 I think we d better have him here to-night, 
 and have it out with him some way. We 
 may not be able to manage him, but I think 
 we can. At all events, we d best know how r 
 much powder he has in his magazine. Con 
 found the fellow ! " 
 
 " Don t be too hasty. He is evidently a 
 man we want with us, and of course we can 
 get him in some way. A very little slice of 
 this cut will seem a feast to him. Send for 
 him, and when we get him here we ll manage 
 him." 
 
 Hildreth rang again, and said to the answer 
 ing clerk : 
 
 " Go up to Braine s after you lock the vault 
 for the day, and tell him to come down and 
 see me here at eight o clock sharp." 
 
 When this message was delivered to Braine 
 an hour or two later the editor was quietly 
 reading the " Biglow Papers " to his wife in the 
 little white cottage with the sweet-williams 
 in front. He had half an hour before re 
 ceived a note by messenger, which he crumpled 
 up and threw into the waste basket. A 
 moment later he picked it out again, went into 
 the kitchen and placed it carefully on the fire.
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 141 
 
 When Hildreth s clerk delivered his sum 
 mons, Braine quietly said to him : 
 
 " Take down my answer in shorthand and 
 deliver it accurately. Tell Mr. Hildreth I am 
 reading a very interesting book to my wife, 
 and don t care to disturb myself. You may 
 say to him, also, that after he has had a talk 
 with Duncan, who is with him now, and 
 Tucker and Fanning, who are to arrive by the 
 express at ton to-morrow morning, I shall be 
 at his service for any conference he may think 
 necessary. Good evening, Charley." 
 
 " Why, Ed," exclaimed Helen, as soon as 
 the clerk had gone, " this reading is of no 
 consequence." 
 
 "I know it, dear. In fact I m tired of it 
 and shall read no more." 
 
 " Why didn t you go then ? It may be of 
 consequence." 
 
 " It is to Hildreth." 
 
 " Why did you send him so well, so 
 curious a message, then ? " 
 
 " Because I wanted him to know that I knew 
 who was coming and by what trains." 
 
 " Didn t you get the information from 
 him? " 
 
 " No, dear. He didn t know it himself till 
 he telegraphed for them an hour ago, when we 
 tvere at tea."
 
 1 42 JUGGERNA UT: 
 
 i( Then how on earth did you find it out?" 
 
 " I pay for my education, dear, as I go on. 
 The little note I burned in the kitchen brought 
 me the information." 
 
 "But why did you treat Mr. Hildreth s 
 message so well, so curtly ? I m sure 
 
 " My dear, let me tell you a story. There 
 was once a rich man and a poor man. The 
 rich man .wanted to make use of the poor man, 
 and he carefully arranged matters so as to 
 make himself the poor man s master. When 
 he had things all ready, he went to the poor 
 man and told him about it. He promised to be 
 a kind master and to pay the poor man well 
 for serving him. But the poor man was con 
 stituted a little curiously. He didn t like to 
 have a master, even a kind one who paid him 
 well. He liked to be master himself, and so he 
 carefully arranged matters so as to make him 
 self the rich man s master. When he had 
 matters in readiness, he sent a reply to one of 
 the rich man s orders, which let the rich man 
 know that the poor man was master now. 
 That s a little fable. But fables are often 
 true."
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 143 
 
 XVI. 
 
 IT was not until noon of the next day, after 
 two hours of preparatory conference,, that Hil- 
 dreth sent Braine as courteous a note as his 
 most accomplished clerk could manufacture, 
 asking him to meet Duncan, Tucker and 
 Fanning in the bank parlor, " for consultation 
 upon matters of deep interest to all of us." 
 
 A little after one, Braine appeared at the 
 bank, and greeted the others without seeming 
 in the least conscious that he had kept the 
 personal representatives of a good many mil 
 lions of dollars waiting for an hour. 
 
 Meantime the group had agreed upon a 
 plan of operations, which had only the one 
 defect of being founded upon a total misap 
 prehension of Braine s situation, attitude and 
 intentions. A fresh perusal of the series of 
 articles on " Thebes as a Railroad Centre," to 
 gether with Hildreth s report of the message 
 he had received from Braine in answer to his
 
 1 44 JUG GERNA UT : 
 
 own, the day before, had led the quartette to 
 certain conclusions. 
 
 " He knows what we re up to," was the ver 
 dict of Tucker, a pudgy little man, with a 
 voice at least an octave too low for his appar 
 ent bellows-power; " at least he s worked out 
 enough of it to bank on. He s making a strike. 
 He proposes to get in with us, and it s my 
 opinion we ve got to let him in." 
 
 "Yes, but how far?" asked Fanning, a very 
 thin person, with a high forehead, over which 
 the skin seemed stretched with drum head 
 tension. 
 
 " Well, of course, a fellow like that," said 
 Hildreth, " isn t like one of us. He ll think it 
 a big fortune if we let him in enough to give 
 him a little bank account, and let his wife go 
 to some fashionable watering-place every sum 
 mer. He doesn t know how much a combina 
 tion of this kind means. My notion is for us 
 to take his ferry franchise and the railroad 
 charter he doesn t know what that piece of 
 paper is worth, I fancy and capitalize the 
 ferry at two hundred thousand dollars, and 
 the railroad at ten millions. The road won t 
 cost more than three millions at the outside to 
 build, and a ferry-boat can be had, with the 
 landing traps, for thirty-five thousand dollars. 
 We ll assign Braine two hundred thousand
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 145 
 
 dollars worth of stock in the road, and twenty- 
 five thousand dollars in the ferry company. 
 The figures will knock him over. Of course, 
 we can fix it so as to throw most of the earn 
 ings of the ferry and connecting road over to 
 our other properties. The idea of having 
 $225,000 in anything will fetch him. It sounds 
 big, that sort of thing, to a fellow that s rooted 
 for his living as Braine has. He s sharp, but 
 of course he doesn t know how these things 
 are managed. He s had no experience." 
 
 " But we ll need his brains now and then, 
 Hildreth," said Duncan, "and mustn t set him 
 in antagonism to us. He ll find out after a 
 while what his stock is worth, and then he ll 
 fight us, sure. Can we afford to risk that?" 
 
 " That s a fact," said Hildreth; " well, how 
 will it do to give him the stock and a clean 
 cash twenty-five thousand dollars? He ll be 
 rich on that, or think himself so. And we can 
 help him in his political schemes, too. He is 
 ambitious, and we shall want him in politics. 
 I ll suggest politics after the money part is 
 broached. " 
 
 And so, when Braine entered, Hildreth was 
 equipped. 
 
 " We ve been reading your articles with in 
 terest, Braine," he began, "but we find you ve 
 been a little misled by your enthusiasm and
 
 1 46 JUGGERNA UT: 
 
 hopefulness." A few months earlier, Hildreth 
 had called that sort of thing " going off at half 
 cock," but he thought it best to be more cir 
 cumspect now. "After all," he continued, 
 " I m to blame for it, you know, because I 
 ought to have kept you better posted." 
 
 " Would you mind telling me just wherein I 
 have been misled ? " asked Braine, without 
 manifesting the least concern as to the serious 
 ness of his blunders. 
 
 " Well, you see it s this way. We haven t 
 got control of the Southern lines yet. Van 
 Duyn disappointed us, and 
 
 "Yes well?" said Braine. 
 
 "Your saying we have secured control may 
 bother us a little in the negotiations." 
 
 " Did I say you had got control of the 
 Southern lines? I don t-recall it." 
 
 " Certainly ; you say," reading, " a strong 
 body of capitalists have secured control of the 
 lines south of Columbia. 
 * " I see. Well ? " 
 
 " Oh, I don t know as it need be very serious. 
 It will pass as a careless newspaper state 
 ment." 
 
 " Certainly. Call it that and lay it on my 
 shoulders. Nobody will mind me. Well, what 
 else?" 
 
 " Well, I ought to have told you that we
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 147 
 
 haven t got a good ready yet to begin work on 
 the new line from here to Columbia, and we 
 haven t yet succeeded in buying a controlling 
 interest in the Northern road," said Hildreth. 
 
 "You never told me," said Braine, but 
 without any look of surprise at the information, 
 " that you contemplated doing anything with 
 the Northern road, after you shut it off the 
 river front by the levee transfer." 
 
 " Didn t I ? That must have been an over 
 sight. Well I ll tell you now. I ll be perfectly 
 frank, Braine, for we re all in one boat you 
 know. Our plan was to sell Northern down to 
 the breaking point on the strength of its being 
 cut off from the river, and then, when the bot 
 tom dropped out of it, to go in and buy up a 
 controlling interest, consolidate the road with 
 the Central, and send the stock up again." 
 
 "Why didn t you carry out the plan?" 
 asked Braine, with languid interest. " It looks 
 like a very good one." 
 
 " That s where the trouble lies. Somebody 
 else sold the stock short on the quiet before 
 we began, and he must have made a pile on 
 the operation too, for the market was sold so 
 deep that when we touched it, it tumbled to 
 pieces like a barrel with the hoops off. And 
 then when we began to buy on the broken 
 market, we found another block in our way.
 
 1 48 JUG GERNA UT: 
 
 Somebody had quietly bought while we were 
 selling, and now holds a big block of the stock 
 off the market. We ve bought every share we 
 can get, till we ve sent the market up to where 
 it was before the break, and even a little higher, 
 but we can t get enough to control." 
 
 " What do you mean to do about it ? " queried 
 Braine. 
 
 " We re waiting for the fellow to weaken, 
 and that s where the trouble comes in. Your 
 article will stiffen him up like thunder. You 
 must admit that you were too previous this 
 time, Braine." 
 
 " Perhaps so. But what do you suggest 
 now? " 
 
 f( Well, we count on you to patch things up. 
 Can t you get up some news about the thing, 
 to knock out the impression you ve made?" 
 
 " No," answered Braine, " that would never 
 do. The first condition of success in journal 
 ism is never to print false and misleading news." 
 "Confound journalism!" Hildreth could 
 not altogether repress his irritation. "The 
 whole game is at stake, my dear fellow, and 
 you re one of us, you know." 
 
 " Am I ? How much? You ve never told 
 me." 
 
 Here Tucker winked at Fanning, and Dun 
 can nodded at Tucker. It was clear that
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 149 
 
 Brainc was " striking," and they were now get 
 ting at the marrow of the matter. 
 
 " We ve just been talking that over," said 
 Hildrcth with eager confidence; " and this is 
 what we think we can afford to do for you," 
 handing Braine a memorandum. " It s ex 
 tremely liberal, you see, but we want to be as 
 liberal as possible with you. We haven t for 
 gotten how you served us at the pinch, and we 
 want your brains hereafter." 
 
 Braine scanned the memorandum carelessly. 
 Then he handed it back, and said : 
 
 " My brains cannot be had at the price. 
 I ve been trying them a little, recently, and 
 find they re worth more to me than you 
 offer." 
 
 " Might I ask, Mr. Braine," interposed Dun 
 can, snapping his fingers against his knuckles, 
 " what is your notion of a fair arrangement 
 between us ? " 
 
 " Certainly," answered Braine ; " and in or 
 der that you may not think me unreasonable, 
 I will first explain how matters stand with me. 
 In the first place, it seems only proper to say 
 that it was I who, in the absence of any hint 
 of your plans from Mr. Hildreth, made the 
 mistake of selling Northern short in New 
 York." 
 
 "You!" exclaimed Hildreth. "You!
 
 I 5 O JUGGERNA UT: 
 
 Why, where on earth did you get the 
 money? " 
 
 " You lent me enough. It don t take a great 
 deal of margin to sell short with, on a falling 
 market. By the way, I d like to give you my 
 check for the amount I owe you, and take up 
 my note before maturity, if it s all the same to 
 you. Besides I have some friends in New 
 York who are pretty strong the Van Duyns 
 and others sit still and hear me out, please," 
 as the others rose in astonishment at the men 
 tion of that name. " As I was saying, I sold 
 Northern short till the collapse came, and you 
 will be glad to know that I netted a very com 
 fortable profit when the stock tumbled from 73 
 to 37 just reversing the figures, which seems 
 to me an interesting coincidence. By that 
 time, Van Duyn and his friends had gone in 
 with me in some plans I had formed. We 
 thought, upon looking over the ground, that 
 we could see a way by which the North 
 ern road could force its way to the river in 
 spite of the levee grant. In fact, I am pretty 
 well convinced that the grant can be wholly in 
 validated if necessary. I hold conclusive proofs 
 that the aldermen were bribed to make it. I 
 thought if I asked to have it rescinded, all par 
 ties would probably consent rather than risk 
 the submission of this proof to a grand jury."
 
 A J E/LED RECORD. 151 
 
 By this time the four bankers were re 
 duced, as to their moral natures, to the con 
 dition of pulp. They said nothing. They 
 simply listened. 
 
 " However, that is aside. As I was saying, 
 we thought Northern stock a good purchase 
 at the price, so we bought it up to full recov 
 ery." 
 
 Here Braine paused, and going to the cooler 
 drew a glass of water, which was far from per 
 fectly clear as he held it between him and the 
 light for inspection before drinking. 
 
 " Now that Thebes is sure of growth, Hil- 
 dreth," it was the first time Braine had ever 
 spoken to the banker by his name, without 
 the prefix of courtesy, " we must begin to 
 think about a water supply, don t you think 
 so 5 I ll write the thing up in a few days. I m 
 only waiting for some books on the subject, 
 for which I have sent to New York." 
 
 " Confound the water supply ! " ejaculated 
 Hildreth. " Go on, can t you ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes ; about Northern. Well, we held 
 the block of stock you referred to just now. In 
 fact we have a trifle over fifty-one per cent, 
 and we don t care to sell. It ought to go to 
 par, or above, when the Southern connection 
 is formed. I own the ferry franchise, you 
 know, and the Van Duyn syndicate by the
 
 1 5 2 JUGGERNA UT : 
 
 way, Van Duyn is to be here next week, as my 
 guest. I shall have the pleasure of asking you 
 to meet him at dinner, Hildreth, and you also, 
 Mr. Duncan, if you re in Thebes so long." 
 
 He passed over Tucker and Fanning quite 
 as if they had not been present. " As I was 
 saying, the Van Duyn syndicate has a ninety- 
 nine years lease on the lines south of Colum 
 bia. That must have been what I referred to 
 in the article where I spoke of a strong body 
 of capitalists. Now our idea is to build the 
 connecting link south, finish the Northern line 
 to the river, and make one system of our prop 
 erties. We ve ordered, from Hambleton s 
 yards, a ferry boat capable of transferring 
 trains without breaking freight bulk, or dis 
 turbing through passengers. We shall be in 
 dependent of the Central rivalry, of course, as 
 that road will be dependent on us for a south 
 ern connection ; but it was the general feeling 
 in New York that consolidation is better than 
 throat-cutting, and I am authorized by my as 
 sociates to consider any propositions you gen 
 tlemen may see fit to make touching a traffic 
 arrangement, or better still, a close alliance. 
 It might be possible for us to get together and 
 arrange for a consolidation of the Central with 
 our properties, on fair terms. That is for you, 
 gentlemen, to consider. It would save some
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 153 
 
 friction, as, of course, in the event of its not 
 being done, we should naturally not be able, 
 with justice to our own stockholders, to offer 
 as favorable terms on through business to a 
 road in rivalry with a part of our line, as to a 
 road owned by ourselves, and an integral 
 part of our system. We shall in any case be 
 as courteous to you gentlemen of the Central, 
 however, as we can with a due regard to the 
 welfare of our own properties. I think that is 
 all I have to say, and as you gentlemen proba 
 bly have business affairs of your own to dis 
 cuss, I will withdraw. Good morning, gentle 
 men." 
 
 What passed in that bank parlor after 
 Brainc s departure, there is no means of know 
 ing now. Braine felt no uneasiness as to the 
 result, however. He sent a cipher dispatch to 
 Van Duyn, and then went home to read " In 
 Mcmoriam " to Helen for an hour before sup 
 per. When Van Duyn had translated the dis 
 patch, it read as follows : 
 
 " Exploded bomb this afternoon. Effect sat 
 isfactory. Delicacy about witnessing a family 
 quarrel prompted me to withdraw. They will 
 ask for our terms to-morrow, and accept them. 
 Have asked Hildreth and Duncan to meet you 
 at dinner next week. They won t come. En 
 gineer reports easy construction on line to Co-
 
 154 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 lumbia. Country flat, timber abundant, and 
 only two small bridges." 
 
 When Braine shut up the volume of Ten 
 nyson that evening, and went to supper with 
 his arm around Helen, he stopped, imprinted 
 a caress upon her lips and said ; 
 
 " I feel this evening just as I did many years 
 ago, on the day I whipped Cale Dodge." 
 
 But he did not explain why.
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 155 
 
 XVII. 
 
 [From Helen s Diary.] 
 
 WE have been back in Thebes for several 
 weeks. The cottage is very charming though 
 I certainly did not realize how small it was un 
 til I returned. It needs a great many improve 
 ments before it will be quite satisfactory. 
 They have put a remarkably ugly paper on 
 the walls, and the ceilings look strange with 
 out any. I think the paper cannot be the 
 same that I selected before we left, for if I 
 remember aright it was very pretty. I spoke 
 to the paper-hanger about it, and he assured 
 me that it was the same, so perhaps it is. 
 
 Something must be done to the ceilings. 
 They look quite startling. I have not men 
 tioned it to Edgar, for I fear he might think 
 me dissatisfied after all, nothing matters, 
 with him to love. 
 
 I have packed away many of my beautiful
 
 I 5 6 JUGGERNA UT: 
 
 gowns. There is really no chance to wear 
 them here. Sometimes I am seized with a 
 longing to put one on, and one evening last 
 week Edgar and I dined in state all alone at 
 seven. I wore my most ravishing gown, 
 and made him put on evening clothes. He 
 laughed a great deal, but seemed to enjoy it. 
 My servant was a little awkward, but I felt a 
 strange elation at my success. I have a de 
 sire to try it on a larger scale some. time. Per 
 haps I shall some day. Who knows but what 
 Edgar may be able, some time, to do all he 
 hopes ! To me it is no matter whether he 
 does or not. Every day every hour he 
 grows dearer to me. I long to see him again 
 among people who can appreciate such a man, 
 and are his equals in some degree. I feel rest 
 less when I think of him here in such a miser 
 ably insignificant town, with all his great 
 powers. I have no ambition for myself, but 
 insatiable ambition to have him appreciated 
 for what he is. 
 
 Gladys is to spend the Lenten season here. 
 It will make a happy break for me in the dull 
 ness of my life that is to say, in the unevent- 
 fulness of it ; it is never dull where Edgar 
 is. 
 
 I have experienced a strange emotion during 
 the last week. It is the first real feeling of
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 157 
 
 regret that has come to me since our marriage. 
 I do not know that " regret " is just the term 
 I should use 
 
 Braine enters the room softly, and crossing 
 the floor takes Helen s head in his hands, and 
 tipping her face back, kisses her softly on the 
 forehead. Her eyes grow luminous, and she 
 drops her pen. 
 
 "Ah! you are home early! Did Mr. Van 
 Duyn get off at ten o clock ? " 
 
 "Yes, I came straight home from the sta- 
 fion." He walks on through into the other 
 room 
 
 " Anything to eat, dear ?" going on out into 
 the kitchen. Helen follows him into the 
 pantry, and seats herself on a cracker box, with 
 a wave of her hand at the shelves and towards 
 the cupboard. She goes on talking about Van 
 Duyn s departure. 
 
 " He ll reach home Friday morning, won t 
 he, Ed?" 
 
 " M huh ! " munching an olive. " Where 
 are the crackers, dear ? " 
 
 " I don t know look in that box up there," 
 pointing to the top shelf. Braine looks and 
 finds candles, and Helen reaches a paper bag 
 on the left, from her scat, and finds eggs. 
 
 " Shall I call Mollic? she s in bed."
 
 I 5 8 JUG GERNA UT : 
 
 " No. Here s the bread," and he cuts a 
 slice two inches thick on one end and a sliver 
 on the other, while Helen continues the con 
 versation. 
 
 " You told him to tell Gladys about the lace 
 the last thing, didn t you else he ll forget 
 it." 
 
 " M huh! " stabbing an anchovy. " I wish 
 to heaven the slave would keep that Rocque- 
 fort in the cellar, except when we are eating 
 it," shoving the cheese under a pan. 
 
 Helen rises " Come on ! Bring the rest in 
 here," and she takes the light in one hand, 
 and the bottle of anchovies in the other, while 
 Braine is about to follow when he discovers 
 the cracker box. 
 
 "You ve been sitting on those crackers, 
 Helen Braine," scooping up a handful wrath- 
 fully. 
 
 " Well, you ve found them ; come on ; " and 
 they go into the sitting-room. He sits by the 
 open window, while she fishes out olives and 
 anchovies for him, alternately, and talks. 
 
 After a time, the anchovies are on the table, 
 and the olive bottle on the window sill ; the 
 crackers carpet the floor immediately around 
 Braine s chair, and Helen is kneeling between 
 his knees. 
 
 The conversation becomes low toned and
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 159 
 
 fitful. They like it better at those times 
 when it is fitful. Presently, Helen says in a 
 dreamy fashion : 
 
 " We will name the children Edgar, shan t 
 we ? " 
 
 She doesn t think of what she is saying. 
 She is in a misty dream. The silence that 
 ensues arouses her. Edgar has not replied, 
 and is looking out of the window. Something 
 in his silence hurts her, humiliates her. She 
 would give up every fond hope if she could 
 recall the words. 
 
 She cannot break the silence, and she feels 
 her lip quiver after a moment, when he does 
 not speak. 
 
 Presently he throws his cigar out of the 
 window and looks at her. There is a peculiar, 
 half-pained, half-stern look in his face, but 
 there is an expression of resignation too that 
 hurts her worse than all. 
 
 He says in a voice which he tries to make 
 calm and matter of fact, but which reveals his 
 anxiety painfully : 
 
 " Why, what do you mean ? " 
 
 This seems to arouse her, and for a moment 
 she feels no grief; but a certain pride that is a 
 little resentful, comes over her, and she looks 
 at him very coolly and says : 
 
 " Nothing; I was thinking that Gladys when
 
 l6o JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 she is Mrs. Grayson, might ask us to stand 
 sponsors for her first, and she likes the name 
 of Edgar, you know." 
 
 There is a little feeling of recklessness creep 
 ing about her atmosphere, for some reason. 
 The look of relief on Braine s face hurts r as 
 but one other thing has ever hurt her his 
 preceding look of anxiety. 
 
 He looks out of the window as though sorry 
 that he has thrown his cigar away. After a 
 moment he says : 
 
 " Helen, would you like to have children?" 
 
 She still feels a little cold, and answers : 
 
 " I should like children well enough, though 
 I presume that there may be more agreeable 
 things to do in the world than to train them." 
 
 He looks around at her in surprise, and sud 
 denly holds out his hand. He says : 
 
 " Come here, little girl." Gravity and self- 
 reproach are in his tone. She is suddenly 
 overwhelmed with a feeling of shame, and 
 throws herself on her knees beside him. He 
 smooths her hair for a moment without speak 
 ing, and then says in the one voice on earth : 
 
 " Dearest, I don t want you to interpret 
 what I said, or looked, a moment ago. You 
 startled me a little, and He pauses a 
 moment, then goes on : " And I want to tell 
 you why. I have had one dream since I have
 
 A VEILED RECORD. l6l 
 
 known you and loved you. I have dreamed of 
 you as my wife, my very dearer self, sur 
 rounded with the refinements and sweetnesses 
 of life ; loving me, thinking with me, always 
 near me. And to complete the dream were 
 our children, little men and women ; a part of 
 your own dear, beautiful self ; their little 
 minds and faces reflecting you ; little men and 
 women that should enter upon life with the 
 love of a man and woman who worshipped 
 them for each other s sake. I have in 
 imagination seen these little beings develop 
 mentally, and morally, and physically, until I 
 beheld the little woman, the model of my 
 Helen, and the little man, a lover of his 
 mother. I have not seemed to think of my 
 self and these children, but of you and them. 
 I think I should not love them because they 
 were mine, but because they were yours. I " 
 
 Braine pauses abruptly. His voice has been 
 soft, wooing, monotonous. Helen is sobbing 
 softly. After a moment he goes on : 
 
 " I have dreamed all this over and over, 
 dear. Perhaps it will not be a vain dream, but 
 it must not be fulfilled now." 
 
 He pauses again, and draws a long breath, 
 that is a half weary sigh. 
 
 " No, not now ; not for a few years. We 
 need each other just now, with nothing to
 
 1 62 JUG GERNA UT: 
 
 divide our love or thought or care with. We 
 do not want to bring beggars into the world. 
 They would not be quite that, now, but not 
 much better. I remember my own youth," 
 tightening his fingers on the arm of his chair 
 and speaking a little harshly, " I remember my 
 own youth. My children shall never have 
 such memories nor such temptations no, 
 nor such guilt." 
 
 Helen lifts her head and stares at him. He 
 has struck a strange note in his voice. He 
 continues: 
 
 " If our children have ambitions that are 
 good and true, I pray God that I may be able 
 to allow them to live, yes and thrive. There is 
 such a thing as moral suicide. I do not want 
 to attend the moral funeral of my children, 
 feeling that they have died for the reason that 
 they have had no opportunity. I am unfit 
 now, and for perhaps years to come, to have 
 any hand in the moral charge of my children. 
 I shall have no time, and you looking 
 hungrily at her " I want you. I cannot 
 spare you just now even to my children your 
 children, our children," each time with a 
 different, tenderer inflection on the words. 
 
 "Now, do you understand me, dear? Now, 
 is there a little less heartache and reproach ? " 
 
 She draws his face down until their lips meet.
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 163 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 THE next fc\v years of Edgar Braine s life 
 were years of strenuous, almost turbulent, 
 endeavor, but their details do not belong to 
 this history. Their outline only concerns us. 
 
 When the consolidation of the Central road 
 with the other lines north and south, was 
 effected, Braine had every reason to feel as he 
 had on the day of his battle with Cale Dodge. 
 In the one case, as in the other, he had won a 
 passionately coveted victory ; in the one case 
 as in the other, it was unsatisfying. 
 
 He had felt almost a savage joy in the pro 
 cess of conquering Hildreth and his party, and 
 teaching them to recognize him as the master; 
 but when the conquest wa*s over, it seemed a 
 very little victory after all, because the enemy 
 was so contemptible. 
 
 " Hildreth has experience and cunning," he 
 said, "but he has no masterful ability. As to 
 the rest faugh ! Why should I care to match
 
 1 64 JUGGEKNA UT : 
 
 my brains against their poor headpieces? 
 One little loving thought of Helen s is worth 
 more than a thousand such victories." 
 
 Braine valued the wealth that was now 
 securely his, not for any vulgar love of wealth, 
 such as men are apt to feel who have grown 
 up in poverty and wrought out riches for them 
 selves, but for the liberty it secured to him 
 to prosecute his other purposes unhampered 
 by any bread-winning necessity. 
 
 He had enough money now, in possession 
 and in certain prospect, to satisfy his desires 
 in that direction, and if he afterward engaged 
 in great financial undertakings, as he did, it 
 was as the athlete expends his strength, not 
 for results, but for the joy of the exercise. 
 
 Braine s mind found pleasure in forming and 
 directing difficult schemes, and his self-love was 
 gratified by the recognition of himself as the 
 master mind among the strong men of finance 
 with whom he allied himself in these schemes. 
 
 There was another reason for his continued 
 activity in affairs. He saw in such activity 
 vast opportunities to impress himself upon a 
 rapidly developing country, and thus to for 
 ward his political ambition, which boldly 
 grasped at the highest things, just as in finance 
 he never suffered the magnitude or difficulty 
 of any undertaking to appal him.
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 165 
 
 " We shall keep the cottage for our resi 
 dence, dear," he said to Helen a few months 
 after the events already related, " but we 
 must live mainly in New York now. My 
 business enterprises require it. You shall 
 have such quarters as you want there, but I 
 should like to keep the cottage just as it is, 
 with a servant always in charge. It will be 
 pleasant for us now and then to come back 
 here for a little rest, and a little quiet love- 
 making. Will it not ?" 
 
 And so it was arranged. Braine retained 
 control of the Enterprise, and even actively 
 directed it, wherever he might be. No mat 
 ter how absorbingly engaged he might become 
 in any of his great enterprises, he found time 
 each day to communicate by telegraph with 
 the newspaper office and by crisp, brief com 
 mands to determine the character of every 
 issue. 
 
 He still retained Thebes as his legal resi 
 dence, and it was expected that he would 
 represent the Thebes district in Congress, but 
 to the surprise of every one, he chose to have 
 himself elected to the State Legislature 
 instead. 
 
 There his activity was ceaseless. He mas 
 tered every detail of information concerning 
 the State, so perfectly that he could, and
 
 1 66 JUGGERNA UT: 
 
 often did, instruct members from distant quar 
 ters concerning affairs in their own districts, 
 about which their information was confidently 
 inexact. 
 
 He carefully avoided accepting the leader 
 ship of his party, which might have been his 
 for the taking, and before the session was over 
 he was said to have won the personal friend 
 ship of every man in the Legislature. 
 
 At the next election he declined to be a 
 candidate, and put up Mose Harbell instead. 
 The nomination created general surprise at 
 first, and a general laugh when surprise and 
 incredulity had subsided ; but Braine took care 
 that his "genial" local editor should be 
 elected. 
 
 He made himself very active in the State 
 General Committee of his party also, though 
 he was not a member of that body. He con 
 tributed largely to the Campaign fund, and 
 took great pains to keep himself well informed 
 as to the state of the canvass in every dis 
 trict in which there was any chance of success 
 for his party. Whenever news came that the 
 chance was slender in any district, Braine 
 opened a confidential correspondence usually 
 conducted by Mose Harbell with the local 
 political leader of that district, and it was 
 almost uniformly the case that the prospect of
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 1 67 
 
 success in the district rapidly improved from 
 the moment Braine s attention was directed to 
 it. 
 
 The result of the election was a cause of 
 general astonishment. The opposing party, 
 which had long been in the ascendant, had 
 carried the State ticket by about its customary 
 majority, but the Legislature elected held for 
 the first time in many years a good working 
 majority for Braine s party, to the surprise of 
 everybody in the State except Braine himself. 
 He had expected precisely that result. Per 
 haps his anticipations had been stimulated by 
 his carefully directed efforts to secure their ful 
 filment. 
 
 The fact that a United States Senator was 
 to be chosen by this Legislature gave peculiar 
 interest to the event. The senator whose 
 place was to be filled had expected to be 
 re-elected without opposition. He had made 
 a secure bargain for re-election with the lead 
 ers of his party. But his party, being unex 
 pectedly in the minority, was of course, un 
 able to fulfil the contract. 
 
 The stir created by the unforeseen situation 
 was very great. The several prominent men 
 of the party were named one after another for 
 the high place, and the newspapers by their 
 advocacy of local " favorite sons " soon made
 
 1 68 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 the contest between them a very heated 
 one. 
 
 Braine wrote with extreme courtesy of each 
 of them in his newspaper, favoring none in 
 particular, but daily pointing out the neces 
 sity of uniting upon some man who could com 
 mand the hearty approval of the entire party, 
 and emphasizing the apparent impossibility of 
 such a union in behalf of any of those who had 
 been named. 
 
 Mose Harbell held his peace, perhaps be 
 cause he was equally impressed with the ex 
 ceeding " genialty " of all the candidates. 
 
 Braine pleaded strongly for harmony in the 
 interest of the party, and particularly for the 
 selection of some rising man of ability, whose 
 age had not deprived him of the energy nec 
 essary to make his ability felt at Washing 
 ton. 
 
 When the Legislature assembled it was found 
 that an extraordinarily large number of the 
 members on the majority side were not 
 positively pledged to any candidate for the 
 caucus nomination, beyond the first two or 
 three ballots, and a careful canvass showed that 
 on the first ballot at least six candidates would 
 be voted for, no one of whom would receive 
 more than one fourth of the total vote. 
 
 Mose Harbell, of course, knew all the "gen-
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 169 
 
 ial"men about him in the Legislature and all 
 of them knew Mose mainly as a joke. Mose 
 entered the caucus, pledged, for the first two 
 ballots, to the least likely candidate on the 
 list. He made his first speech in advocacy of 
 that candidate s election, emphasizing the " gen 
 iality" of the man, and telling some stories of 
 his own peculiar manufacture in illustration of 
 it. With three others he voted for that man. 
 
 The first ballot in the caucus showed six can 
 didates voted for and no election. The second 
 ballot showed six candidates voted for and no 
 election. 
 
 When the third ballot was ordered, Mose 
 Harbell untwisted his long legs, removed his 
 feet from the desk to the floor, and rose in his 
 place to make a very brief speech. 
 
 " Mr. Chairman," he said, " it is evident that 
 we cannot nominate any of the gentlemen for 
 whom we have been voting. Why should we 
 not nominate the man who best represents the 
 intelligence and integrity of the party, the 
 man to whose earnest devotion in the late 
 election the party owes its opportunity to 
 elect a senator? I, for one, shall vote on this 
 ballot for Edgar Braine! " 
 
 It will be observed that the style of this 
 speech was wholly unlike the usual literary 
 methods of Mose Harbell. Perhaps that was
 
 170 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 sufficiently accounted for by the fact that the 
 slip of paper from which Mose had committed 
 it to memory, was in the handwriting of 
 his master. 
 
 The burst of applause that greeted the 
 speech, seemed to indicate that a large propor 
 tion of the members present shared Mose s 
 view of the situation, and the third ballot 
 showed three candidates voted for, with Edgar 
 Braine s name leading, and within two of a 
 majority. 
 
 On the fourth ballot, Braine was nominated 
 amid a roar of applause. 
 
 It had all been done precisely as the editor 
 of the Enterprise had planned that it should 
 be done. 
 
 That night Edgar incidentally mentioned 
 to Helen that she was to be the wife of a 
 United States Senator, at the next session of 
 Congress, and so would have only one more 
 winter to pass in New York.
 
 A VEILED RECORD. \J\ 
 
 XIX. 
 
 [From Helen s Diary.] 
 
 Washington, iS . We have been here three 
 weeks to-day. The entire time has been occu 
 pied in settling and furnishing the house. In 
 the meantime we have been stopping at the 
 Arlington. We are finally settled, and have 
 been in the house now for a week. 
 
 It all seems a glorious dream. I believe 
 that there is no home in Washington so beau 
 tiful as ours. It is beyond everything I have 
 ever dreamed of. 
 
 The first night we stayed here, I reviewed 
 all our married life. Saturday night, after I 
 went to bed, I lay there thinking of all that 
 has come and gone in this dear time. 
 First, our weeks in New York, where a new- 
 life opened for me. Then, our return to 
 Thebes, where we had both known pov 
 erty, and a stern necessity for management.
 
 172 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 There has since been no such stern neces 
 sity. 
 
 After our first return, things seemed to de 
 velop in so gradual and natural a manner, 
 that only Saturday night as I lay in bed, com 
 paring the rose draperies, the shaded light, the 
 faint perfume and luxurious room, with a little 
 bedroom far away, and its cretonne curtains, 
 its ordinary little lamp, its moderate comfort, 
 I felt wonder and amazement, and what ? 
 Regret ? I do not know. Perhaps, for some 
 one shared that little ordinary room with me. 
 Some one I loved. And as I thought, I half 
 turned, to find myself quite alone it was no 
 longer " the thing " to share my room. Yes, 
 I think it was regret that I felt. 
 
 He was veiy near only a little corridor be 
 tween, but perhaps he was asleep, and if he 
 slept I could not put my hand on him and feel 
 comfort in the touch. Yes, I think it was regret. 
 
 With the new house, a new custom had been 
 inaugurated. A custom of division. I will 
 admit the superiority of the custom, but not s 
 its capacity to satisfy. Edgar had said: "I 
 think it best, dear, that my apartment should 
 be distinct from your own, for the sake of 
 your comfort. I come in at all hours of the 
 night, and must necessarily disturb you, and it 
 makes me feel constantly guilty."
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 173 
 
 I think I cannot convey the hurt that this 
 gave me, though I knew, absolutely, that this 
 suggestion was prompted by his great love for 
 me, and so we fell to speaking of " your room " 
 and " my room." 
 
 I have not known one less caress, one less 
 expression of his love, for this being so, but 
 it is " your room " and " my room " for all that. 
 I shall become accustomed to it, and prefer it 
 so Gladys says I will. I shall become used 
 to it of course. It is not quite so strange to 
 me even now, but that Saturday night it was 
 very new and very sad ; I felt then that it 
 would never be anything else. It is hard to 
 become used to speaking of things, or think 
 ing of them as other than ours. When the 
 material things of our lives become separate, 
 it seems to break the unity of the intangible 
 things the thoughts that are mutual ; the 
 spontaneity of emotion, affection. Perhaps it 
 will not seem so after a time, but it is hard to 
 think otherwise now. 
 
 For some reason, I have a dread of a time 
 when I shall no longer find the new way 
 strange and sad. I think of the nights in 
 the cottage, when one of us happened to be 
 wakeful, restless. The other always knew it in 
 stinctively, and awoke. Then, there were few 
 troubles or causes of wakefulness that a touch
 
 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 of the hand, or a tone of the voice, from the 
 other, could not banish. Then, we could al 
 ways divine, without any awkward efforts to 
 discover, if the one was happier without the 
 other s consideration now it is different. I 
 should experience almost as strange a sensation 
 in entering his room, as I should have felt be 
 fore we were married. I tried it last night. I 
 heard him come in after one. I sit up in my 
 room if he is late, for I cannot sleep and kno\v 
 that he is not safe ; I sit in my own room that 
 he may not know that I wait. It would worry 
 him, did he know. 
 
 The other night he opened my door softly, 
 thinking me asleep, and just intending to look 
 at me, and instead of being asleep, I was sit 
 ting by the fire, thinking of him. He seemed 
 startled to find the room lighted, and coming 
 to the fire and taking my hands in his, said 
 in a tone of anxiety : " Why, dearest ! You 
 slwuld not wait for me like this. If I feel that 
 you do, I shall be unable to attend to business 
 properly after midnight, for thinking of you 
 here, awake, waiting wearily for me, alone." 
 
 He said it with so much of anxiety and pain 
 in his face and voice that it suddenly filled me 
 with a great longing to sob in his arms, but it 
 was too late to sob then at least in his arms, 
 and he looked too tired and worn.
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 175 
 
 Presently, he said good night, and i sat alone 
 he left me that I might go at once to sleep. 
 I decided that he should not have any anxiety 
 of that kind again ; so now I go to bed and 
 lie awake until I hear him come up the stairs. 
 
 He always opens the door, and I can always 
 tell by the light from the hall, whether he is 
 very weary, or would like to talk to me. He 
 cannot tell from the door whether I am asleep 
 or not, if I am quiet. If he looks very tired, and 
 as though he had started for his room, I say 
 nothing. If not I say, " I am awake, dear 
 est." 
 
 He is very anxious to have me work into 
 the social life of the city. I understand things 
 far better than I did a few years ago, when we 
 took the New York trip. Far differently ! I 
 know that society in Washington means busi 
 ness. I am incapable of understanding the 
 business, but I can learn certain means by 
 which it is carried on. 
 
 I have been impressed more and more every 
 day of my life with Edgar s greatness and my 
 own inferiority. And every day of my life, I 
 have taken a new resolution to be with him in 
 his greatness, if not of his greatness. 
 
 I do not think I care much for his greatness, 
 but for him instead and he and greatness are 
 inseparable. I remember involuntarily at times
 
 T 76 JUG GERNA UT: 
 
 that night in the hotel years ago, when the 
 feeling came over me that we had come to a 
 fork in the road, and I must decide whether to 
 go alone, or with him. 
 
 The time is past when I must make such a 
 decision, but now I must keep up with him in 
 the road we travel together. He must not 
 have to wait for me and he would not go on 
 without me and I know that he could not live 
 unless he went on. 
 
 He has planned many things for the coming 
 season in which I must not fail him. I can 
 assist him by social success. The season is 
 still weeks in the future. Things are at a 
 standstill just now, socially. I have a terrible 
 fear that I must fail him. This fear con 
 sumes me, agonizes me. I dare not think too 
 much about such a possibility until I have to. 
 I may not have to. Just now I am torn with 
 anxiety.
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 177 
 
 XX. 
 
 "COME IN," Helen turns and faces her 
 dressing room door as Braine enters. 
 
 " Not abed yet? " he snys with a smile, tak 
 ing her face between his hands, with the old, 
 familiar action. 
 
 She puts her hands on his shoulders, and looks 
 intently into his eyes, as he drops on his knees 
 by the side of her chair. Longing, worship, 
 anxiety, hesitancy are in her face. Braine 
 smiles at her, and says in interrogation of her 
 steady scrutiny : 
 
 " Yes, what is it ? " 
 
 Her hands slip from his shoulders to her lap, 
 where he clasps his own gently over them. 
 She smiles at him a little wistfully and says 
 nothing. 
 
 Braine is the lover in every glance, every 
 gesture and attitude at these moments when 
 they two are alone. Indeed, his love for her 
 seems to have gained in intensity.
 
 1 78 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 They have been in the Washington house 
 for many weeks. Braine has been absorbingly 
 occupied with schemes of business and politics 
 every moment, save one like this, snatched 
 now and then, when he seems to forget the 
 whole universe in remembering this beautiful 
 woman. 
 
 His love finds small expression in words, 
 but much in a caress, a radiant joy of counte 
 nance instead. 
 
 After a long study of the face of the woman 
 gazing so steadily at the fire in front of her, he 
 says, anxiously, with a caress of voice and 
 hand : 
 
 " You are not well, dearest ? You look a 
 little worn to-night." 
 
 She slowly withdraws her gaze from the 
 coals, and turns her face towards him. There 
 is an abstraction in the action. She says in a 
 tone that indicates that her thoughts are on 
 something else : 
 
 " Not well ? Oh yes yes," looking back 
 at the fire. After a while he says, still watch 
 ing her face : 
 
 " You are the most beautiful woman I have 
 ever seen. It is not in the regularity of your 
 features, but in the soul that radiates from even 
 the tips of your fingers," touching the white, 
 passive hands reverently.
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 179 
 
 " What woman so made for honor and glory ! 
 In a little year or two ! " 
 
 He pauses, then continues in a low, passion 
 ate tone : <l In a little year or two you shall 
 have all in your hands. Women shall envy 
 you and men shall reverence you. This first 
 season shall make the road to success clear and 
 direct. This winter will decide all. If it were 
 not for you, I should be helpless, powerless, 
 absolutely without belief in myself or the fu 
 ture. My ventures, so far, have been gigantic ; 
 I do not know that I could have taken one 
 step without your presence, and the thought 
 of you to stimulate me, and banish all. fear of 
 failure. My schemes for the future arc despe 
 rate and I shall win." 
 
 He is quivering in every limb. There is a 
 fierce energy in his low tones. The nervous 
 fire of this man s nature seldom flames save 
 in these moments, with this woman. He has 
 spoken the last words looking confidently in 
 her face. 
 
 She listens without making any sign. Her 
 lips are pressed tightly together. Braine goes 
 on in his monologue his words spoken with a 
 clearness of utterance which has made him re 
 markable in public speech, and has an awe 
 some impressiveness about it. 
 
 " It will be you who will have done it all. I
 
 1 8<D JUGGERNA UT : 
 
 shall look at you, commanding the homage of 
 these people, and think great thoughts. I 
 shall look at you, and be able to speak them. 
 You will be ever at my side, thinking with me ; 
 both working for a common end. 
 
 " This social and political debut means all. 
 It is by our mutual desires the sympathy of 
 each in every thought of the other our co 
 operation that we shall win the fight. I 
 thought I loved you years ago, that you were 
 necessary to me. It was true ; but I worship 
 you now, and without you all would be over. 
 I am appalled when I think of what this year 
 holds for me to accomplish ; it is only the 
 knowledge that you are by me that makes it 
 possible. I have never needed you never 
 can need you as I do now, as I shall in those 
 immediate months to come. I 
 
 Helen turns her face towards him. She 
 checks him with a sudden, imperative gesture. 
 Her face is as white as death. For a moment 
 she does not speak. Braine grows white, too, 
 at the expression he sees. He dares not break 
 the silence, but waits for her to do it. Pres 
 ently she says, in a low voice, with apparent 
 effort : 
 
 " I I have something to tell you." 
 
 She stops abruptly for a moment, then be 
 gins again, looking steadily in his face :
 
 A VEILED RECORD. l8l 
 
 " I have something to tell you. I I fear it 
 will make a difference ; that it will cause you 
 regret, and perhaps if you meant what you 
 have just said failure. I 
 
 She stops as though unable to continue. 
 Braine looks at her in amazement. He sees 
 her suffering, and involuntarily lays his hand, 
 with a sudden, assuring movement over hers. 
 
 It seems to arouse her, and she clasps her 
 fingers around his with a despairing little 
 action, half imploringly. She goes on in a 
 hurried voice, tremulous and choked now and 
 then : 
 
 " I have tried to tell you for a long time a 
 week. I I when I remembered and thought 
 of all that it would mean to you of the dis 
 appointment, just now, I could not speak, but 
 but but " 
 
 She stammers with emotion and excitement, 
 and pauses to recover herself an instant. She 
 does not take her eyes from his face. It can 
 have no expression that she does not see. 
 She says convulsively, with a pitiful effort at 
 calm and control : 
 
 "I beg of you not to let this misfortune at 
 this time kill your love for me. Oh, I have 
 never wanted your love as I do now. I, too, 
 have never known the necessity for you and 
 your help as I do now. I
 
 1 82 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 Braine is staring at her. She has spoken so 
 rapidly that he could not interrupt her. He 
 does not know what to expect. He tries to 
 calm her panic by caresses. He says : 
 
 "Helen! Helen !" 
 
 She motions him to be quiet. 
 
 " If you reproach me, it will drive me mad. 
 I am not to blame. Oh, I beg of you not to 
 remember the desire I expressed long ago, and 
 think that I have have sacrificed your wishes 
 your commands, to satisfy myself. I am 
 not to blame." 
 
 Braine takes her hands firmly between his 
 own. She is beyond self-control, and is sob 
 bing hysterically, but never looks away from 
 his face. He says almost sternly : 
 
 " Be quiet, Helen. There is nothing on 
 God s earth that you could be guilty of that I 
 could reproach you for. Now, be perfectly 
 calm and tell me about it. And remember 
 that I love you." 
 
 He says it all in a very matter of fact 
 tone, and it has an immediate effect on her. 
 She ceases sobbing. After a moment, she 
 says : 
 
 " You remember a conversation we had 
 years ago, at the cottage in Thebes ? You 
 told me of the dearest wish of your heart and 
 said it must not be fulfilled then "
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 183 
 
 She stops speaking. She loses no expres 
 sion of his face. He says quietly: 
 
 "Yes: well?" 
 
 His voice tells nothing, but her hands are in 
 his, and he forgets it and suddenly tightens 
 his fingers. She says slowly, in a mechanical 
 way : 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 She knows that he has understood. He 
 knows by her reply that she knows it. 
 
 He puts his arms about her, and draws her 
 gently to him but she has seen an expression 
 in his face that she never forgets.
 
 I 84 JUGGEKNA UT: 
 
 XXI. 
 
 THE time has passed in a whirl. Helen 
 feels constantly dazed. She is ill ; at times, 
 terribly ill. Braine does not know it. He is 
 with her almost constantly. His tenderness is 
 extreme. He divines and gratifies her desires 
 almost before she knows of them herself. 
 Every glance, every touch, every word is a 
 caress, and a love message. But there is the 
 never-to-be-forgotten expression of rebellion 
 and resignation. She has never by word or 
 action alluded to it. He will never know that 
 she has seen it indeed, he is not conscious 
 that his face has ever worn such an expression. 
 He knows what his heart felt in the moment 
 of disappointment, but he does not know that 
 his emotion was expressed in his face. 
 
 He tells Helen of his plans, his work, for 
 she seems to have a mania for " helping" him. 
 He manufactures writing for her to do, when 
 he accidentally discovers that it delights her
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 185 
 
 to do it. At night, when he comes home late, 
 she stands in her door as he ascends the stairs, 
 draws him into the room, and makes him lie 
 on the divan and tell her how things are going. 
 
 Since the first time, he has never protested 
 against the procedure, though he feels that 
 she is often worn out. He would never have 
 protested but for her sake, and she seemed so 
 uncontrollably grieved on the one occasion 
 when he tried to reason about her late hours, 
 that he has thought it best to indulge her. 
 
 He thinks it is an intense interest and desire 
 to.be pushing things with him which prompts 
 her. He does not know that she has hours of 
 madness over the thought that in the months 
 to come, she will be forced out of his life, 
 because of his hurry and her necessity to be 
 passive in it all ; that she is a monomaniac on 
 the subject; that she is afraid of the responsi 
 bility of his failure ; that she has grown to be 
 a madwoman on the subject of " interest." 
 
 She has but one thought : that she must 
 appear interested in everything concerning 
 him, in order to keep her place in his life. He 
 does not know that night after night, hour 
 after hour, as she sits with her face eager, 
 questioning, offering suggestions with a wo 
 man s quick intelligence, which he accepts with 
 readiness and gladness, and which are often
 
 I 86 JUGGERNA UT: 
 
 of practical service to him, she is suffering 
 tortures. 
 
 He plans a speech and tells her, as she 
 insists, the arguments on either side, and the 
 value of her interpolations amaze him. He is 
 a logical man ; she, a woman of intuitive per 
 ceptions only. The combination is capable 
 of accomplishing much. 
 
 Braine finds himself deferring to her judg 
 ment in the smallest thing. He is amazed at 
 his sudden dependence on her. She has de 
 veloped a quality which would never have 
 been developed under other circumstances, 
 and the strain is terrible in its effects upon 
 her. She is frantic with the necessity she 
 feels for effort of some kind in his behalf. 
 
 She works like a demon when he is not pres 
 ent, and is " interested " to the verge of 
 insanity when he is near. 
 
 He knows nothing of her state, mental or 
 physical. He has no conception of her suffer 
 ing. He is constantly solicitous about her 
 health, and she is always " Well ; perfectly 
 well ! " 
 
 Gladys Grayson is now in a whirl of social 
 excitement. She brings to the Braine man 
 sion all the news of society s doings. Helen 
 goes out only in her carriage. 
 
 Once, Mr. Everet calls. She is seized with
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 187 
 
 an aversion to seeing him, and sends word 
 that she is engaged. Many other people call. 
 She seldom sees any of them. Few have 
 other than a vague idea of the reason. They 
 have heard from Gladys and some others, of 
 her exquisite charm and beauty, but forget 
 about her in the attending to her husband. 
 
 Braine s first great effort in the Senate was 
 a magnificent one. All that day Helen 
 walked the floor of her room, saying to her 
 self: "If he fails, I am to blame. If he fails, 
 I am to blame." 
 
 When Braine came home she was temporarily 
 a lunatic, and his enthusiasm of success was 
 forgotten in an agony of apprehension for her 
 safety. When she finally understood that he 
 had suddenly become of interest to thousands 
 of people, she accepted the triumph almost 
 passively, the strain for days had been so 
 great. 
 
 She now thinks constantly of the time she 
 is losing. She thinks with terror of being left 
 in the rush, and finally not of Braine stop 
 ping for her, but of his rushing on without 
 her. 
 
 Braine himself has become sternly calm to 
 all but his wife, the only person who under 
 stands him. To her the atmosphere is electric. 
 She has constantly in her ears the whirr of the
 
 1 88 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 wheels of the political machinery. Braine is 
 lovingly impatient for her to share it all, to be 
 in it all, and says with an eager smile, full of 
 tender happiness : 
 
 " When this is over, dearest, and I can have 
 you with me in all this ! " 
 
 And she smiles back as eagerly and says : 
 
 " Yes, when this is over !" And sometimes 
 her hands are clasped beneath the table where 
 he sits to write. She thinks constantly : 
 
 " I must keep up. I must impress him with 
 my strength. I must make him feel that I am 
 to be depended on ; I must lose none of my 
 power to charm ; for fear my face grow un 
 attractive, I must cultivate my mind," and 
 her face is the face of a seraph. 
 
 Then she falls to planning how the child shall 
 be effaced so that in these years of endeavor 
 that are to come, Braine may find nothing to 
 impede him, nothing to annoy him. If her 
 child should weary him, would not the respon 
 sibility be hers, and would he not grow to look 
 upon her with aversion ? 
 
 She no longer thinks of the child as his, or 
 "ours," but as " mine." It is a responsibility 
 that she alone must bear. He must never find 
 it a burden. She plans constantly how she 
 shall accomplish this, and yet do all her duty to 
 the child. She thinks she will not love it. It
 
 A y El LED RECORD. 189 
 
 will only be hers. What is there to recom 
 mend it ? No, she will not love it, therefore 
 she must be over-careful in the matter of duty 
 towards it. She will instil into it all thjse 
 traits of character and qualities that Braine 
 loves and admires most, if she can. She will 
 keep it from its father s knowledge as much as 
 possible ; as soon as practicable, she will send 
 it away to school, that Edgar may forget it as 
 nearly as may be, until some day, perhaps, 
 when the hurry and anxiety are past, and that 
 time has come when he can pause, she will 
 be able to bring the child man or woman, 
 if it must be years from now before him, and 
 not be ashamed of her work, and perhaps it 
 will find favor in his eyes. Perhaps th : old 
 feeling will come back, when he has nothing 
 else to think about, and he will even love 
 the child a little because it is hers. She has 
 longed so to love it, and cannot because it is 
 only hers. 
 
 Braine never hears a complaint, nor sees an 
 expression of pain or suffering on her face. 
 He knows nothing of her monstrous, mor 
 bid imaginings, and cannot set things right. 
 He only says eagerly : 
 
 " When it is over ! " And she responds in 
 the same tone : 
 
 " Yes, when it is over," and thinks :
 
 1 90 JUGGEKNA UT: 
 
 " Then I must catchup. Then I must make 
 up this lost time. I must not be left ; I must 
 not be left ! " She sobs away the night on her 
 knees. 
 
 The months have rushed by. The time is 
 long enough for the suffering very short for 
 so many agonies to be crowded into. Braine 
 loves her as he has never loved her before. 
 Sometimes he experiences a momentary emo 
 tion of gladness and desire for this child 
 but not often. 
 
 He seldom thinks of all that her condition 
 means ; and sometimes almost forgets that 
 anything unaccustomed is or will be, made 
 forgetful by Helen s beauty and charm and 
 brightness. He seldom thinks of her condition 
 save as a cause that has had the effect to make 
 him love her more. 
 
 And so, the winter wears away and Helen 
 with it.
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 19! 
 
 XXII. 
 
 BRAINE S carriage stops at the door, and he 
 gets out and runs hurriedly up the steps. It 
 is three o clock, and at a quarter past he has 
 an appointment, tie has come home for 
 important papers which he had forgotten. 
 
 As he enters the door, Dobson says with 
 some little excitement in his tone : 
 
 " I m glad you ve come, Mr. Braine. Mrs. 
 
 "Mrs. Braine?" Edgar suddenly takes the 
 words out of his mouth. He remembers that 
 he did not see Helen in the morning, and that 
 when he went to her door, her maid said she 
 was sleeping. 
 
 Dobson replies apologetically and with 
 anxiety : 
 
 " She would not let us send for you 
 
 Braine springs up the stairs. He is suddenly 
 seized with a nervous trembling, and stands 
 for a moment in the hall to recover himself. 
 He opens Helen s door. She lies on the divan,
 
 1 92 JUGGERNA UT: 
 
 and Susanne, her maid, is moving quietly 
 about the room, adjusting things. 
 
 At one of the windows a strange woman sits 
 reading unconcernedly. Helen is apparently 
 asleep ; but when he enters, she opens her eyes 
 and makes a quick attempt to get off the 
 divan. 
 
 The two women leave the room, and Helen 
 holds out her hand with a smile, and says 
 eagerly : 
 
 " Well, how are things going ? " 
 
 She is deathly pale, and even while she 
 speaks, there is anguish in her face, though 
 she controls her voice perfectly. Even in 
 the supreme moment she will try to be 
 " interested." 
 
 Braine is surprised, relieved. He does not 
 know just what he expected, but he knows 
 that he experiences an almost terrible relief. 
 Helen ! her usual lovely, eager, smiling self. 
 Suddenly she sways a little, and Braine throws 
 his arms about her. He says anxiously : 
 
 "You are ill. Why did you not send for 
 me, Helen ? " 
 
 She certainly is ill ; so ill that her smile is 
 ghastly, but she is conscious of having done 
 her duty, and of having appeared "inter 
 ested." 
 
 She sits down upon the divan, and Braine
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 193 
 
 sits beside her with his arms about her. She 
 replies as carelessly as the situation permits : 
 
 " Oh, no, I m not ill that is, nothing special 
 is the matter, you know. There is no need to 
 take you from the Senate." 
 
 Braine replies almost sternly : 
 
 " If you have even a headache it is sufficient 
 to take me from the Senate. You have been 
 suffering all day, and have not given me the 
 dear privilege of being near to help you bear 
 it. It hurts me. It suggests a lack of of 
 faith in my sympathy 
 
 She puts her hand over his mouth. Though 
 her words do not indicate it, her expression is 
 one of a happy sort of despair. She would not 
 ask for such an expression of love as this, but 
 it is very dear, very grateful to her, just now. 
 It was not expected ; not that he is ever other 
 than tender and loving, but she finds herself 
 surprised and grateful for every expression of 
 his love. She does not know why she no 
 longer expects it, or why it is a surprise, but it 
 is so. She catches her breath softly, but does 
 not indicate her emotion in any other way. 
 She has an idea that he will be impressed with 
 her weakness and his responsibility if she 
 shows him how much this means to her. She 
 only says carelessly: 
 
 " Yes, I know, but there was nothing the
 
 1 94 JUGGERNA UT: , 
 
 matter, you see. Mrs. Case is here because 
 Susanne thought she ought to have a few 
 weeks in which to get accustomed to the 
 house 
 
 " A few weeks I don t know, Helen 
 He looks anxious and doubtful. She says 
 quickly : 
 
 " Yes, yes, Ed. A few weeks / know," 
 decisively and encouragingly. She has not 
 been honest with him as to the time of her 
 coming peril. She has had one wild desire to 
 have him away, out of town, anywhere, that 
 he may not be worried or annoyed by her; 
 that the approach of the crisis may not inter 
 rupt his work. 
 
 Her tone reassures him, and he remembers 
 his appointment, and that he will be late. He 
 says, tenderly : 
 
 " I will be home soon, dear. I have an 
 appointment with Grayson now, but will come 
 home as soon as we are through." 
 
 She nods cheerfully, and says : 
 
 " All right ! don t neglect anything for me, 
 Ed it is not necessary. Isn t to-night the 
 affair at Dalget s?" 
 
 "Yes, but I m not going." 
 
 She lays her hand on his arm appealingly: 
 
 " Go, Ed. Please go. I want you to. I 
 
 Suddenly she stops. Braine thinks, by the
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 195 
 
 expression of her face that she is dying, it is 
 so drawn and old, in a moment. She draws a 
 long, quivering sigh of agony. Her fingers 
 clutch his arm convulsively. She makes no 
 sound, not the least moan, nothing but that 
 sigh that goes to his heart. 
 
 Braine watches her, holding his breath. 
 She has slipped to her knees, and is clinging 
 with the grip of a strong man to him. He is 
 panic stricken, horrified, and cries in an awful 
 voice : 
 
 " Helen -Helen !" And she lies limp and 
 white in his arms. He is quivering in every 
 limb. He covers her moist hand with kisses. 
 There are tears in his eyes, and he cries aloud 
 with a groan : " Great God ! " 
 
 Helen hears him and opens her eyes. She 
 smiles dreamily, and makes a weak little move 
 ment to touch his face. She says in a faint, 
 comfortable voice : 
 
 " It s over now, Ed. Go to Grayson." 
 
 His face grows harsh, and he says in a sud 
 den fury : 
 
 " Damn Grayson ! " 
 
 She smiles. There is a certain comfort in 
 that ebullition. She lies on the divan, and 
 Braine wanders around the room, aimlessly. 
 The languor she feels is possessing him almost, 
 lie is oppressed with a sense of impending
 
 1 96 JUG GERNA UT 
 
 disaster and his utter helplessness in face of 
 it. 
 
 The situation seems to become actual to 
 him for the first time. He feels some frantic 
 desire to avert this horrible something that 
 must happen. He feels suddenly like a weak, 
 helpless child, and is seized with a desire to 
 throw himself at her feet, and weep and be 
 comforted. 
 
 In another moment, he feels like a great, 
 strong man, with a desire to throw his arms 
 about her, and prove his power to avert every 
 agony of hers. The next moment he is on his 
 knees beside her, imploring forgiveness in an 
 incoherent, frenzied way, for this guilt that 
 suddenly oppresses him ! He feels like a crim 
 inal, and keeps saying brokenly : 
 
 " Oh Helen, forgive me ! forgive me !" 
 
 She is half asleep, and opens her eyes to 
 smile at him. She says, dreamily : 
 
 " I I never loved you as I do now. If it 
 had not been for your wretchedness, I could 
 have exulted in that agony." 
 
 Braine covers her hands with kisses. He 
 dares not kiss her face. She looks like a beau 
 tiful white saint. He touches her hands rever 
 ently. He draws the {olds of her gown closer 
 about her. 
 
 Presently she says:
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 
 
 "Ask Mrs. Case to come here. You go 
 down-stairs now, if you won t go out. I will 
 call you if I want you." 
 
 He protests, but resistance seems to excite 
 her, and he obeys. He does not go down-stairs, 
 however. He stays in the corridor just outside 
 her door. For hours he walks tirelessly back 
 and forth. Once in a while he hears that ter 
 rible sigh of suffering, and he leans heavily 
 against the wall. The sweat springs out on 
 his forehead in great drops. His suffering 
 seems, for the moment, as terrible as hers. 
 Once he groans aloud, and at once remembers 
 that she has not made the faintest moan, and 
 says between his teeth : 
 
 " Good God ! A man could not endure that." 
 
 The nurse comes to the door now and then, 
 sometimes calling him in, and then he kneels 
 by the still, white woman, who gives his hands 
 little weak, responsive pressures, and smiles at 
 him. He remains until she motions him away, 
 imperatively. 
 
 Night has settled. The lights are ablaze 
 through the house. Dobson has spoken to 
 him, and said that dinner was ready, and he 
 has not heard him. He walks back and forth, 
 back and forth, in the corridor. The heavy 
 sighs sob more frequently through the half 
 open door. Once Mrs. Case comes and tells
 
 198 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 him to send for the physician, and he gives the 
 order, incoherently saying : 
 
 " Dr. Frame, and tell him to bring some 
 more with him." 
 
 At this, Mrs. Case smiles quietly. The 
 time passes fitfully. He looks at his watch 
 once, and it is 8:30, and all is quiet in Helen s 
 room. 
 
 In what seems to him but the next moment, 
 he hears her make some moaning exclamation, 
 and a slight rustling and moving about occurs. 
 The agony lasts for what he thinks is three 
 quarters of an hour, but when he looks at his 
 watch again, it is only 8: 40. 
 
 Helen s dog comes to the foot of the stairs, 
 and looks up, and Braine leans over the balus 
 ters, and looks down at it. Once, he whispers 
 down to it, as though it were a human being : 
 
 "It s terrible, isn t it?" and walks on, 
 back and forth, through the hall again. 
 
 The physician came an hour ago. Braine 
 knows that the nurse has been to her dinner, 
 and feels a sudden violent disgust and aversion 
 for her that she can eat. 
 
 Dr. Frame did not bring " some more," but 
 after a time he comes into the dressing-room, 
 where Braine now is, and sends for a colleague. 
 Braine turns pale, but asks no questions, as he 
 gives the order.
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 199 
 
 How the time drags ! He pauses now and 
 then in his walk, and leans weakly against 
 something. He suddenly realizes that his 
 brows are drawn, and his forehead scowled, 
 and his hands clenched, and his teeth set. He 
 is made conscious of it by hearing himself 
 groan aloud, and then he relaxes for an in 
 stant until he hears a sound in the next room, 
 again, and he finds himself experiencing so 
 sharp an agony that he throws himself on the 
 divan with his head in the cushions where she 
 has lain. 
 
 He is in her dressing-room now and there is 
 an odor of her presence in all the atmosphere. 
 Her gown lies on a chair; in front of the dress 
 ing table lies a twisted handkerchief that tells 
 the story of a moment of agony. He looks 
 about at these things, and says under his 
 breath : 
 
 " Oh, my God ! " 
 
 The other physician has been in the next 
 room for a long time now. Braine looks at his 
 watch. It is past three. He tries to think how 
 long this has lasted. He cannot remember 
 whether it was to-day or yesterday that he 
 came in here. 
 
 He stands in a half-daze in the middle of 
 the floor, trying to recollect when. Suddenly 
 an unearthly shriek comes from the next room.
 
 200 JUGGERNA UT: 
 
 He stiffens like a wooden man. He puts his 
 hands to his throat, and makes a peculiar me 
 tallic sound. 
 
 There is silence in the next room. He 
 stands staring at the closed door. He thinks 
 nothing. In a moment he hears another 
 scream that causes his heart to give one wild 
 bound, and then to seem pulseless. The si 
 lence in the room is intense. He stares fixedly 
 at the door. The stillness is terrible. Grad 
 ually he becomes impressed that the woman 
 Helen, his wife, is dead. 
 
 He does not move. His mind begins to 
 work. He sees a face like" the dawn, a prim 
 rose face, with eyes as clear and untroubled as 
 a child s ; her hair a sunny glory in a little 
 dismal room. 
 
 He feels the touch of a cool, soft hand, a 
 touch as comfortable and calm as that of an 
 angel s wing. Then comes to him the mem 
 ory of a time when the touch of that hand 
 thrilled him as no other touch on earth or in 
 heaven could do ; of the time when the sweet, 
 loving girl became a glowing woman, intoxicat 
 ing him, making him drunk with joy : and he 
 again experiences that first sensation of pro 
 prietorship and possession. 
 
 And suddenly there appears to him the fig 
 ure of a woman with a ghastly, drawn face, a
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 2OI 
 
 face that he does not know, with staring eyes 
 that gleam glassily, and accuse. He feels the 
 touch of a rigid hand, cold and unresponsive. 
 His eyes seem starting from his head. 
 
 The door opens, and one of the physicians 
 stands looking at him in a startled way. There 
 is something frightful in this man, with 
 clenched hands, the veins like whip cords on 
 his neck and forehead, and his ghastly face. 
 
 Braine says in a strange voice: 
 
 "Helen" 
 
 " Lives ; the child is dead."
 
 2O2 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 [From Helen s Diary.] 
 
 In the mountains near Mauch Chunk, 
 August, 18 . This is the first time for months 
 I have felt like writing. We have been here 
 since June. After my illness I had a great 
 longing to get away, away, away ; anywhere 
 out of the excitement, away from the fur 
 niture, the servants, the surroundings that 
 seemed to have become so hateful to me that if 
 I looked upon them I must shriek. It seemed as 
 though I should never be strong enough to go. 
 
 Edgar was as anxious to get away with me 
 as I was to go. A great change has taken 
 place in him. He has ever been good and 
 thoughtful, but it is impossible to describe 
 the lengths to which his affection drives him 
 now. If his business has been pressing, these 
 last months must have been disastrous to him, 
 for he has hardly left my side for an hour.
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 203 
 
 There is a new expression in his eyes when he 
 looks at me. He seems to feel as if he were 
 guilty of some terrible crime against me, and 
 to be ever trying to expiate it. Sometimes 
 this amuses me a little, but his earnestness 
 makes me almost feel unhappy at times. 
 
 Once in a while, if we have been sitting 
 quietly alone, he will look at me silently for a 
 time, and then say with almost a groan : 
 
 " Oh, if you only knew, Helen ! If you only 
 knew all that I suffered in those weeks ! " 
 
 I was very ill for a long time. He seems 
 hardly to realize that I am again well and safe. 
 I would never dare let him know the agony of 
 mind as well as body, that I endured so long. 
 
 I feel differently, too, about some things. I 
 think that whatever regret Edgar felt at first, 
 and before my confinement, he suffered a keen 
 disappointment and unhappiness at the loss 
 of the child. He has made but one allusion 
 to it, but he betrayed his deep feeling then, un 
 consciously. 
 
 It is strange ; but after all my longing for 
 the child, before it became a longing likely to 
 be gratified, the relief that I experienced when 
 I knew that I had none is indescribable. 
 
 At first I would burst out sobbing for very 
 joy and relief. I cannot understand my feel 
 ing. I sometimes think if circumstances had
 
 2O4 JUGGEKNA UT: 
 
 been different, and Edgar had had the same 
 emotions in regard to it that he has now, per 
 haps I should have felt differently. I am im 
 pressed, for some reason, that this aversion I 
 have is abnormal. But it is so strong that it 
 has decided one thing : I have had my last 
 child. Nothing on earth can ever bring back 
 the old feeling. That is something for which 
 women in my position have no time. The 
 horrible feeling of lost time and opportunity 
 that I experienced in those months will never 
 be forgotten. I will never live through it 
 again. If I ever find it likely to become a 
 necessity, I will kill myself at the outset, with 
 out a moment s hesitation. So this is settled 
 for ever and ever. 
 
 I intimated as much to Edgar, involuntarily, 
 the other night, and I think he felt a little 
 hurt. I regretted that I had betrayed the 
 feeling when I saw that it made him un 
 happy. I thought he would feel as I did 
 about it. I presume he does, in some degree. 
 I made some remark to the effect that people 
 in our position could not afford to lose time in 
 that way, and he said : 
 
 " But, dear, what would become of the peo 
 ple if all thought so ? " . 
 
 I told him that there were plenty whose 
 talents lay principally in that direction, and
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 205 
 
 that that part of life s work should be appor 
 tioned to them, and strictly confined to the 
 lesser people. 
 
 He began a little argument, but saw that it 
 did not please me, and changed the subject. 
 But he said something that impressed me with 
 its truth, for all that. 
 
 He said something to the effect that the 
 " industry " was already confined too strictly 
 to " lesser people ; " that what the country 
 needed to save it was high-bred, fine and 
 greater fathers and mothers, instead of lesser ; 
 that if there was ever an " industry " that 
 should be confined to the superior of the land, 
 it was child-rearing. Perhaps this is so I felt 
 so too, once, and determined to do a duty in 
 this direction that would be a loved duty. It 
 is different now. It will never happen again 
 and I live through it. The suffering is not 
 what I flinch from. I m not cowardly. It is 
 not that. But // will never happen again, if 
 there is a means on earth to prevent it, even 
 though the means be suicide. 
 
 I wonder if my character is degenerating? 
 Am I as good a woman as I was when I mar 
 ried Edgar? I do not know. I only know 
 how I feel now, and it is not so comfortable 
 to feel in that way as to feel in the old way. 
 Am I deteriorating? If so, what is the cause?
 
 2O6 JUGGERNA UT: 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 THE Braines have back been in Washington 
 for a month. Politics recalled Braine, and 
 Braine recalled Helen. When she began to 
 think of returning to the Washington house 
 where she had endured one year of absolute 
 wretchedness as an initiation, she was over 
 whelmed with distaste for the move, but she re 
 solved to keep her repugnance to herself, and 
 fight the feeling down. 
 
 She wondered once if she had rather return 
 to the cottage in Thebes, but dismissed 
 the idea quickly and impatiently. She knew 
 that the meagre, provincial life would be in 
 tolerable to her now. She wanted the luxu 
 ries of the Washington house, but shrank from 
 the thought of having to go thither to find 
 them. She made up her mind to the inevi 
 table, however, and they returned as late as 
 business would allow. 
 
 The night of her return when she first en-
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 2O/ 
 
 tered the house she felt faint and weak for 
 a moment, as a host of wretched memories 
 arose, connected with every portion of the 
 place. But she brought her will to bear, and 
 Braine did not notice her distress. 
 
 He seemed affected differently. He seemed 
 almost like a boy in his enthusiasm over their 
 return, and went from room to room, showing 
 her certain changes he had made surreptitiously 
 during the summer for her surprise. 
 
 He pauses in the library, and suddenly takes 
 Helen in his arms. He says : 
 
 " I cannot analyze the feeling that I experi 
 ence ; the peculiar gladness I have at return 
 ing here with you well and happy. Though I 
 suffered agony in sympathy with the suffering 
 you endured here, the experience seems to 
 have endeared the place to me. You will 
 never know what your counsel and help dur 
 ing those months meant to me. Our achieve 
 ments shall now begin in earnest. Oh, Helen, 
 Helen, the joy of striving and accomplishing 
 for you is the dearest one of my life. To see 
 you honored and admired and envied, and to 
 know it comes through my exertions will be 
 my supreme happiness." 
 
 " Am / not your supreme happiness ? " 
 
 " Yes, and therefore less than all for you 
 would mean supreme wretchedness for me."
 
 208 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 There has been a wistful note in his voice, 
 and he is tender beyond all imagining. They 
 seem very near to each other this night of 
 their return, and this new marriage somehow 
 lessens Helen s feeling of disquietude, and re 
 assures her. She finds herself looking forward 
 with a certain delight and satisfaction to this 
 winter when she will establish her social su 
 premacy, that she may stand beside this man 
 who is just becoming supreme in another field, 
 and seem worthy to share some of the honors 
 accorded him. 
 
 They have sat below by the library fire, far 
 into the night. They have discussed the situ 
 ation. They have planned the details of the 
 campaign, and their confidence in each other, 
 and the feeling of each that the advancement 
 of the other is in his or her hands, has already 
 won the fight. 
 
 The servants are in bed ; the silence of the 
 great house has not been broken for hours, 
 save by the low, earnest, wooing tones of the 
 man and woman in the soft light of the rare 
 room. The woman in a half-dream of delight, 
 as rosy visions of the future are conjured up 
 by the man whose voice of the lover always in 
 toxicates her senses ; a dainty woman, a regal 
 woman, a woman whose least motion suggests 
 the patrician, morally, mentally, physically ; a
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 2OO, 
 
 woman subtle in her frankness and simplicity, 
 dignified in her naivete ; a woman perfectly 
 matched with the man. And he, a man whose 
 very presence suggests power and grace of mind; 
 a temperament wherein reverence predomi 
 nates, if audacity dominates ; a man who must 
 lend good, even to the worst, and make the 
 worst seem not tolerable, but acceptable. And 
 none in looking on him can decide whether his 
 mind is responsible for his charming person, or 
 the reverse. 
 
 All the room is in shadow save where they 
 two sit, and as he takes the soft, shaded light 
 in his hands, and conducts the woman to her 
 door, my imagination plays a sudden trick; 
 the room is one of statelier times, and one 
 becomes a " bold, brave knight," the other 
 one, " my lady."
 
 2 1 JUG GERNA UT : 
 
 XXV. 
 
 " Do you see Bogart and Mrs. Stevens ? " 
 Gladys Grayson drops the question into 
 Helen s ear as she stands listlessly leaning 
 against the conservatory entrance. 
 
 Everet is looking away for the moment. 
 Gladys has come up with Dalzel, the young 
 congressman. 
 
 Helen looks at her inquiringly: 
 " Bogart and Mrs. Stevens ? Where ? " 
 Mrs. Grayson gives a silvery little laugh, 
 and just lifts her eyebrows. 
 
 " Everywhere," with a comprehensive wave 
 of her pretty hand. 
 
 Everet and Dalzel are talking together. 
 Helen looks a little bewildered, and Mrs. Gray- 
 son looks a little amused, and a good deal con 
 temptuous or shocked, perhaps. She nods 
 towards the conservatory, and at the moment 
 a man and woman come from the shadow of a 
 palm, towards the quartette, engrossed in con-
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 2 I I 
 
 versation at least, Bogart is. Mrs. Stevens 
 is engrossed in looking charming. Gladys con 
 tinues in little spasmodic asides: 
 
 Every one in the room " they are nearer, 
 and she lowers her voice, " is talking about it. 
 It is disgraceful." 
 
 " What ? 
 
 " Why, the very apparent affaire between 
 them." 
 
 Helen stares then looks at Mrs. Stevens. 
 Gladys says under her breath, between her 
 teeth : 
 
 " Don t stare at her in that way, you goose. 
 She will come over here in a minute, and ask 
 if the enamel on her neck is chipping." 
 
 Helen lowers her eyes. Gladys continues : 
 
 " Things are so very apparent, you know." 
 
 Mrs. Stevens is coming leisurely toward 
 them. " There is a story of a little dinner." 
 Mrs. Stevens is here. Gladys bows with her 
 accustomed hauteur, with which she meets 
 every one but the initiated, and without the 
 suspicion of discourtesy in her manner, turns 
 away on Dalzel s arm. 
 
 Mrs. Stevens begins to talk volubly to Helen 
 and Everet. Helen is disconcerted. She has 
 none of the studied, courteous rudeness that is 
 her friend s stock-in-trade, with which to carry 
 off a thing of this kind gracefully. She replies
 
 2 I 2 JUGGERNA UT: 
 
 a little helplessly to Mrs. Stevens, and moves 
 away as quickly as she can. 
 
 Mrs. Stevens perceives the slight it amuses 
 her a little. Later, when she is alone with 
 Bogart, she mentions it, and remarks that 
 these ingdnues try one s patience terribly." 
 
 Bogart says " Yes ; " and thinks, " but they 
 are delicious to teach." 
 
 Everet seldom leaves Helen s side. When 
 he is not with her, he is watching her. The 
 house is too crowded for comfort, and Helen 
 has not had enough experience yet to enjoy 
 it. She always feels a little bewildered after 
 one o clock, and remarks to Everet as he stands 
 by her while she leans back in a chair, wearily, 
 that she always feels as though she ought to 
 be in bed after eleven. She laughs, a sweet, 
 excited little laugh as she looks up at him. 
 He wonders how long so charming a child will 
 retain her naivete in such an atmosphere. 
 
 She delights him. There is a simplicity 
 about her manner and expression that fasci 
 nates him and yet she is a polished woman 
 of the world. She is surely that, but the 
 difference between herself and other women 
 of the world is that she is not a worldly 
 woman. 
 
 Once, during the evening, Braine is near 
 her, and says with suppressed elation:
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 21$ 
 
 "You are charming to-night, Helen. I have 
 never seen you more beautiful. Everet is 
 strongly attracted." 
 
 Helen looks up quickly. She says with a 
 little deprecation in her tone, and a little 
 entreaty in her eyes ; 
 
 " He only admires me as he does other nice 
 looking women, Ed. Indeed, you need not 
 mind. I will keep out of his way, if you don t 
 like it." 
 
 Braine listens at first in surprise, then bursts 
 into a low, happy laugh. He covertly presses 
 her hand, and says, as he moves away to make 
 room for Everet, who is coining with an ice 
 for Helen : 
 
 " I don t mind, I assure you. You needn t 
 take pains to keep out of his way. I am per 
 fectly satisfied \vith my wife. I am delighted 
 that this man is so interested as he is only be 
 cautious, dear ; don t let it be too obvious to 
 others you understand ? 
 
 Helen does not understand, but Everet is 
 at her side, and she has to turn to him, and 
 say something, or listen to him. 
 
 Her mind runs on Braine s few words, and 
 they trouble her. While she answers the 
 questions of this one and that, and makes 
 trite, witty, serious, politic, or straightforward 
 little speeches, as one case or another de-
 
 2 1 4 JUG GERNA UT: 
 
 mands, she is turning over Braine s words in 
 her mind. 
 
 Perhaps Everet is one who can be of service 
 to Edgar, and he thinks it as well for her to be 
 civil. She is a little piqued at his last words 
 " be cautious, don t let it be too apparent 
 to others "as though she were likely to 
 permit an aggression on Everet s part more 
 quickly in private than, she would in public. 
 It wounds her a little that he should have said 
 so thoughtless a thing. It would be terrible if 
 he thought so Jwrrible a thing. 
 
 As she sees Braine from to time to time in 
 the crowd, she notices that the worried, 
 anxious expression she has noted for the last 
 week, is no longer on his face. He is charm- 
 ing to-night. His personality has never so 
 strongly impressed her, or apparently other 
 people either. 
 
 Everet notices how her glance follows 
 Braine s flexile figure, that is full of strength 
 and dignity, and once, remarks with a smile, 
 and a little amusement in his tone : 
 
 " You are a great admirer of your husband ? " 
 
 She looks up at him, and says quite in 
 nocently, 
 
 " I love him." 
 
 Everet s smile becomes one of approval, 
 almost of tenderness.
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 21$ 
 
 At last she is near Braine again, and says a 
 little wistfully: 
 
 " May we not go home soon ? " 
 
 He looks at the flushed, weary face, beau 
 tiful in its ennui and excitement, and says : 
 
 " At once if you wish it," and suddenly the 
 desire possesses him to have her in the carriage, 
 alone, quite to himself, in his arms, and he 
 seems a little impatient while Everet folds her 
 wrap about her, and is asking which is her 
 " clay." 
 
 Helen says with an airy little informality 
 that she has no day for her friends the days 
 are theirs. 
 
 As they step out into the cold air, Braine 
 draws Helen s furs still closer about her throat. 
 There is a tenderness and passion in his action 
 that she has missed these last weeks. It de 
 lights her, and causes the hot blood to surge 
 over her face and neck, leaving her in a 
 quivering little ecstacy, for a moment after she 
 is in the carriage. 
 
 Braine, standing outside, is pushing her gown 
 about her, and pulling the rug over her lap as 
 he directs the coachman. And Helen is saying 
 in husky little trebles, so that only he hears : 
 
 " Ed. Ed." 
 
 Some one at this moment runs down the 
 steps to say some nearly forgotten thing to
 
 2 1 6 JUGGERNA UT : 
 
 Braine, and as he talks he is acknowledging 
 Helen s little appeals by covert pressure of the 
 hand that is inside the coupe. Finally he 
 gets in, and closes the door. 
 
 As they roll away, Braine draws her into his 
 arms. It seems to both that they have been 
 waiting all night for this moment. After a 
 time, Braine says : 
 
 " I have never loved you more than at this 
 moment. I believe until to-night I have 
 never fully realized how magnificent you are. 
 You are not where you belong. You are not 
 where you shall be. I want to see you there," 
 nodding his head in the direction of the White 
 House. 
 
 Helen does not understand, but she is glad. 
 
 He is excited. Every fibre of his being is 
 responsive. He holds her hand in his, and 
 kisses it repeatedly, passionately. She laughs 
 in a nervous, hysterical way, and leans her 
 head against him. She half sobs: 
 
 " I want to be here, Ed. This satisfies 
 me." 
 
 He presses her to him and answers : 
 
 " I am not satisfied for you. A little 
 patience, and you shall have all. There is 
 nothing that we cannot accomplish together. 
 I am ambitious. There is no reason why I 
 should not be. Ambition is a worthy senti-
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 2 I/ 
 
 ment. Yes, I am ambitious for myself, but it 
 whets my appetite for the great things of 
 earth, when I see you as you have been to 
 night, when I hold you as I do now. Some 
 times it half angers me when I see you lacking 
 appreciation of yourself. You do not know 
 your own value, child ; other people know it. 
 You could be a power, if you would. You 
 must. I 
 
 He leans back to look at her. He has im 
 parted something of his enthusiasm and inten 
 sity to her, and her fingers play nervously 
 with the cords of her cloak. Her eyes gleam 
 in the dusk. 
 
 Braine notes every little detail about her 
 how the flash from an electric light makes the 
 tiara in her hair sparkle ; how white her hands 
 look as they lie buried in the fur of the rug; 
 how the little tendrils of hair cling to her neck. 
 He thinks vehemently : " How I love this 
 woman ! How I love this woman ! " 
 
 They stop in front of the house, and they 
 go silently up the steps. Both are thinking. 
 Woolet opens the door for them, making a vain 
 endeavor to appear dignified and wide awake. 
 But it is sufficiently evident that he has been 
 asleep in the hall. 
 
 Helen goes directly up the stairs, and 
 Braine passes on to the library, saying:
 
 2 1 8 JUG GERNA UT: 
 
 " I have a little work to do I will be up in 
 five minutes wait for me." 
 
 Susanne is asleep with her head on the dress 
 ing-table. Helen says kindly, as the little, 
 plump thing makes an effort to wake up : 
 
 " Go to bed, child. I will look after myself 
 to-night." 
 
 Susanne goes, and Helen stands a moment, 
 looking at her reflection in the glass. She 
 smiles at it. She says half aloud : 
 
 "Yes, I am very beautiful. I love beauti 
 ful things" with a nod at herself. She un 
 fastens her gown, and it slips to the floor ; she 
 steps out of it. She takes the pins from her 
 hair and it falls over her shoulders with a little 
 swish. Braine taps at the door. She calls : 
 " One moment, Ed." 
 
 She throws about her the negligee on the 
 chair and calls, "Come in," adding, "You 
 didn t have much to do," as Braine enters the 
 room. 
 
 " If I did, I didn t do it," with a little laugh. 
 He throws himself into a chair by her dressing- 
 room fire. After a moment he says : 
 
 " Come here, dear." 
 
 Helen is brushing her hair at the mirror. 
 She puts down the brush and goes over to 
 him. He pulls her down beside him. For a 
 moment they sit silently, cheek to cheek, look-
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 2ig 
 
 ing into the fire together. Finally, Braine 
 says in a low voice : 
 
 " I want to talk to you, dear, about about 
 a business matter." He pauses. 
 
 Helen smiles a little mistily. She does not 
 know anything about busmess matters, but 
 she will like to hear about anything if he tells 
 it. She says : 
 
 " Well ? " 
 
 Braine hesitates a moment, and then says, 
 with a little effort to appear quite natural : 
 
 " I don t want to trouble you with details, 
 dear, but I must, a little. I want you to help 
 me in a difficult task to help us, for this 
 means everything to both. You believe in 
 your husband, do you not, Helen ? " 
 
 " I will not answer that question, Ed. You 
 can answer it yourself." She caresses his head 
 gently, and waits for him to go on. 
 
 " Well, I meant the question seriously 
 enough. You know I can do much, but I 
 wonder if you believe me capable of all I can 
 do ? You know how the newspapers talk of 
 me as the wizard, because I have achieved 
 very quickly things that most men find it 
 difficult to achieve at all. They believe 
 in me, but they would think me insane if I 
 were to tell them of the plans I am going to 
 tell you of. I wonder if your belief in me is
 
 22O JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 enough firmer than theirs, to let you share 
 my ideas without distrusting my ability to 
 make them facts?" 
 
 He receives sufficient answer in a caress 
 which has tears of joy in it. He muses a 
 while, and then takes up his discourse at a 
 different point. 
 
 " It is rather a dramatic story, I suppose, as 
 ordinary people look at things. I was rolling 
 barrels on the levee at Thebes not many years 
 ago. I got my fingers in on the Enterprise 
 with my mind set on making myself felt, and 
 I made the Enterprise a power. I was not 
 easily appalled, as I showed when I set out to 
 make the noblest woman in the world my 
 wife, to take, as all my own, the one perfect 
 example of what God meant when he created 
 woman " Here a long pause occurs in the 
 monologue. 
 
 " When Hildreth thought to make me a 
 serviceable tool for him and his millionaire 
 partners to work with, I whipped out the com 
 bination in six or eight weeks, and I taught 
 them once for all who was master by virtue of 
 superior intellect, when they and I had occa 
 sion to work together in any matter. I was 
 poor and needed wealth for the sake of the 
 opportunity it gives. I set to work to achieve 
 wealth, and in three months my name was
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 221 
 
 good enough to stand alone in any bank from 
 New York to San Francisco. I planned the 
 systematizing of the railroad lines centering at 
 Thebes, and created almost a new West by 
 the operation, enriching a whole people. I 
 decided to be a Senator, with my party in an 
 apparently hopeless minority, and I achieved 
 the result with as much precision as if it had 
 been merely the drawing of a straight line 
 with a ruler. I have not been taking wine, 
 dear, and I am not running over these things 
 to boast of them. I care nothing whatever 
 for what is behind me. I only say all this to 
 show you what I mean when I say that from 
 the earliest time I can remember, I have never 
 in my life made up my mind to accomplish 
 anything, without succeeding in the attempt. 
 I want you to bear that in mind when I tell 
 you that I have made up my mind to be 
 well, to place you in the highest position pos 
 sible to any American woman. With your 
 help I can accomplish that, as I have accom 
 plished everything else." 
 
 " Oh, Ed, you frighten me. I am content 
 as we are. Your ambition is eating you up. 
 For myself, life has brought me no, it is you 
 that have brought me all, and more than all. 
 I only want this ! " clasping her arms about 
 him, and pressing him close. "I would give
 
 222 JUG GERN~A UT: 
 
 up everything for you, Ed, and it is for your 
 sake that I want you to give up all further am 
 bitions for me. You do not care for these 
 things, dear, except for my sake, and I care 
 for nothing except to have you love me. You 
 are great and good. You do not need honors. 
 Let us let them alone." 
 
 " I cannot, Helen. I might but for you. I 
 do not know ; it is my nature to go forward ; 
 I cannot stand still : but I might if it were 
 not for you. How can I rest when I remem 
 ber that there is one woman in Washington 
 whose place is so exalted that she is held ex 
 empt from the duty of returning calls, and 
 that woman is not my Helen ! I tell you I 
 must work out the plans I have formed, and I 
 need your help. Now let me explain. I ll 
 spare you every detail I can, and keep to the 
 bare outline." 
 
 " Go on," she says, " I like you to tell me 
 stories, Ed, and you haven t told me many of 
 late. Your business has taken you away so 
 much, till I have almost come to hate busi 
 ness." 
 
 Braine feels a little sting in this reminder, 
 which Helen has not meant to put there, but 
 he is too intent upon his purpose to pause for 
 its removal. 
 
 " I have worked already at this thing, dear,
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 22 3 
 
 night and day for months. I have made alli 
 ances in all directions, in every quarter of the 
 country. I have set every force at work which 
 can be in any way controlled. The next step 
 is to produce a break here. This administra 
 tion is the obstacle in my way, and I mean to 
 break it down ! " 
 
 " Oh, Edgar ! " exclaims Helen, less in pro 
 test against a proposal which startles and 
 shocks her a little, than in admiration of the 
 superb audacity of the man who sits holding 
 her hand while he announces a purpose seem 
 ingly so stupendous. Braine continues, scarcely 
 noticing the interruption : 
 
 " Yes, and I have that practically arranged, 
 too, except for one thing. I must produce the 
 break by getting the coming presidential ap 
 pointments the most important of the whole 
 term, in some respects rejected by the Senate. 
 There are three men in the Senate who must 
 make the fight their own in order to make the 
 break in the party irreparable, except by the 
 retirement of the President from the contest 
 for nomination at the end of the term. These 
 men are privately interested in the whiskey 
 tax bill, which is certainly lost in committee 
 unless I force its passage. I ve been working 
 at that for two months, and have not yet suc 
 ceeded. I want your help in that."
 
 224 JUG GERNA UT: 
 
 " But, Edgar, you know I don t understand 
 politics, or " 
 
 " It s not necessary that you should. 
 Heaven forbid that you ever shall ! The only 
 obstacle is Everet. He is chairman of the 
 committee that has the bill in charge. He can 
 report it favorably, and if I could induce him 
 to do it, I could manage the rest. But I can 
 not. I have exhausted my resources of argu 
 ment and persuasion, and he will not yield. It 
 has worried me more than I like you to know, 
 dear. I have said nothing, because I didn t 
 want to trouble you. But you can help me 
 now, if you will." 
 
 Helen looks up, elated : 
 
 " I can help ? I m glad of that, Ed, but it 
 seems funny to think of my helping in business, 
 doesn t it ? " with a little laugh. 
 
 Braine is so intent on the matter that he 
 only replies by a pat of the hand. He con 
 tinues : 
 
 " Yes, you can help. I will tell you what I 
 want you to do. Everet is fascinated with 
 you. He hardly left your side to-night, and 
 when he did, his eyes followed you. Everet is 
 the only one whose support I must have now. 
 You must get this for me. You can do it 
 
 " Why, Ed ? She stares at him inquir 
 ingly. " What could I do, dear? "
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 22 5 
 
 For a moment Edgar looks annoyed. This 
 L becoming a little awkward for a husband. 
 He starts to speak, then hesitates for a mo 
 ment, then begins 
 
 " Your woman s cleverness should prompt 
 you, Helen. You understand little politic de 
 vices to a considerable extent ; it is only nec 
 essary that you enlarge upon it in a smaller field. 
 Evcret will call, of course. There is no rea 
 son why he should "she is looking at him 
 " not call as often as he chooses, nor why he 
 should not choose to call often nor why you 
 should not use your influence to our advan 
 tage to the end of gaining his support for 
 me. Do you understand ? " 
 
 He ceases. There is absolute silence. 
 Helen is still looking at him. It is not com 
 fortable for one s wife to look at one under all 
 circumstances. She speaks hesitatingly : 
 
 " You you mean for me to to try and at 
 tract Everet in order to cajole him into doing 
 your will in this ? " 
 
 There is bewilderment, disgust, astonishment 
 expressed in her voice. She looks somewhat 
 scandalized. Braine laughs a little uneas- 
 ily: 
 
 " Yes, that is about it." 
 
 She remains on her knees, looking at him 
 for a moment then slowly rises. There is in-
 
 226 JUG GERNA UT: 
 
 dignation expressed in every movement of her 
 body. She looks hurt, humiliated, insulted. 
 She says excitedly : 
 
 " You don t know what you are saying. 
 This miserable business -whatever it is has 
 gone to your head. I I I 
 
 She stammers in excitement. Braine rises 
 and speaks entreatingly : 
 
 " No, I know what I am asking of you. It 
 is not pleasant, to be sure. It hurts me worse 
 than it can you, but, Helen " with a desper 
 ate impulse " Helen, this has0/ to be done. 
 I must have Everet s support. Things have 
 come to a desperate pass. There is no other 
 way. When I saw you controlling his every 
 thought to-night, it seemed like a sudden in 
 terposition of Providence. All the care and 
 worry, that have gripped me like a dragon 
 those late weeks, seemed to slip from me. I 
 knew if you would do this, I was secure. I 
 appeal to you, child. If you love me, you 
 must consent to aid me in this. It \syour hap- 
 piness, your advancement as well as my own, 
 that I ask you to achieve 
 
 " I am satisfied. I don t want to advance." 
 
 Her eyes flash ominously. 
 
 " Helen Helen Braine holds out his 
 hands to her, " you don t understand all you 
 say. You do want it. If you were deprived
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 
 
 of all this luxury and position, it would ruin 
 your happiness and yet, a few years ago you 
 said as you do now I don t want it. Could 
 you live without it ? " 
 
 " No. Not now. But I could if I had never 
 known it I 
 
 " You had to know it. You should. Of all 
 women in the world you are the one best fit 
 ted for command, and for all that I am strain 
 ing every nerve to gain for you. I do not 
 sleep an hour, uninterruptedly. I wake, to 
 plan and contrive after this end. I eat me 
 chanically. I speak so, except under circum 
 stances when my words will count. I make 
 no acquaintance, no friend save that I may turn 
 him to account. I deny myself honest affection 
 in every association, that sentiment may never 
 interfere at a critical hour all this that I may 
 see you where you deserve to be. I ask but 
 one little thing of you. I implore it. This 
 one effort on your part, and we have gained 
 all. Helen" 
 
 He is quivering with excitement. His eyes 
 burn like coals of fire, and grow dark and scin 
 tillating. 
 
 The woman opposite him stands like a statue. 
 There is not a vestige of color in her face. 
 She turns slowly, and motions him from the 
 room without a word.
 
 228 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 [From Helen s Diary.] 
 
 February, . Breakfasted this morning in my 
 own room. Could not entertain the thought of 
 ever seeing or speaking to Edgar again. 
 
 I looked haggard when I got up. I did not 
 sleep an hour all night. While I was making 
 a sorry attempt to eat some "breakfast, and 
 strengthening my determination never to 
 speak to Edgar again, Woolet brought up a 
 note, saying that Edgar told him to give it to 
 me as soon as I was up. 
 
 I was like adamant and determined not to 
 look at it. I should have sent it down to him 
 immediately, but for the curiosity such a thing 
 would have aroused among the servants. 
 
 As Woolet was going, he said : 
 
 " Mr. Braine said Madame would please for 
 ward all his mail that came to-day." 
 
 I was thunderstruck. Forward his mail ! I
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 22g 
 
 snatched up the note, all my determination 
 gone. 
 
 It was but a few lines, saying that he took 
 the 9:10 train for New York, on business, and 
 would return on Friday this is Tuesday. 
 
 I felt like a baby. I sent Susanne away, and 
 burst out crying. It seemed to me that I 
 must see him, and soften the situation a little. 
 
 I could never have consented to this thing 
 that he proposed, but it does not seem terrible 
 enough to justify such severity this morning. 
 
 It seems to me that I cannot endure the 
 time until Friday but when he returns I shall 
 treat him with proper dignity, of course. It is 
 my diity to make him feel that I judge his con 
 duct severely. And yet, I will be forgiving 
 and affectionate to an extent. Only to an 
 extent. (This will be very hard for me.) 
 
 I felt so wretched that I thought a drive 
 would do me good, so at two, I went out. I 
 became so tired and disgusted with meeting 
 people and bowing to them, that I turned 
 around and came home. There is nothing 
 that makes a miserable person feel more mis 
 erable than to see people happier than her 
 self. 
 
 I felt as though I was ready to drop when I 
 got up the steps, and who should be in the 
 reception-room but this very bone of conten-
 
 230 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 tion, awaiting my return. I felt like flying up 
 the stairs and locking myself in my room, but 
 instead of doing so childish a thing, I walked 
 into the room with admirable dignity. 
 
 I intended to see that he made his call very 
 short ; but after a moment we got talking of 
 the new minister and his funny little wife, and 
 in the gossip I seemed quite to forget my 
 wretchedness for a while, and we went into the 
 library, where it is cosier, and sat down by the 
 fire and had a delightful afternoon. 
 
 Mrs. Hetherington called as she pays no 
 attention to days, but runs in promiscuously 
 and I sent word, " Not at home." I felt a 
 little shocked at myself, and hardly knew \vhat 
 Mr. Everet thought for it is a little unusual, 
 of course, to keep a man whom you have met 
 so seldom, gossiping a whole afternoon in your 
 library, and denying yourself to all other 
 callers devoting yourself exclusively to him. 
 And I shouldn t have done it though there 
 was really no harm in it if Ed had not said 
 what he did, last night. 
 
 I didn t encourage Mr. Everet to call again, 
 nor try to be agreeable at all, but was just 
 usual and everyday, just as I shall always be 
 when he calls. 
 
 He seemed quite at home, and we had tea 
 in the library, and he left just in time for me
 
 A VEILED KECORD. 
 
 to dress for the English Minister s reception 
 where we met two hours later. 
 
 He Mr. Everet is more interesting than 
 any of the men I have met. There is a dignity 
 about him that I like, and that I have never 
 found in anyone else but Edgar. I did not 
 know what he would think of my letting him 
 stay as I did, but he accepted it most 
 naturally, as a matter of course and it was a 
 temptation, for I was so miserable that any 
 thing seemed acceptable that enlivened me a 
 little. 
 
 He noticed my mood, I think, for he was not 
 flippant and tiresome, but sympathetic 
 though we only referred to the most common 
 place subjects. He remarked that I looked 
 weary and pale. It does a woman good to 
 have these little things noticed. It seemed 
 quite like Edgar as he used to be. 
 
 Mr. Everet said it was refreshing to find a 
 natural, unaffected, candid woman in Washing 
 ton. I do think it must seem a relief to men. 
 If women did as Edgar wishes me to do, the 
 men \vould be in a terrible plight. They 
 would have to hate all the women in self- 
 defence. 
 
 I couldn t help observing the interest Mr. 
 Everet seems to feel in me though I really 
 should not have thought of it if Edgar had not
 
 232 JUGGERNA UT: 
 
 suggested it. For a moment there was a cer 
 tain fascination in the idea of making a strong, 
 dignified man do just what a helpless insigni 
 ficant little woman like me wants him to do. 
 
 As a sort of experiment, I made him go to 
 Gladys Grayson s after the affair at the min 
 ister s although he had said that he had an 
 important appointment at eleven, and that a 
 great deal depended on his keeping it but 
 he went to the Graysons . Of course, I didn t 
 care a fig whether he went or not ; only, as I 
 say, it was a kind of experiment. 
 
 I m frightfully tired, and here it is three 
 o clock and I still up. 
 
 Edgar will be at home on Friday, and this 
 is Wednesday morning. I shall be glad to 
 tell him again, how I scorn his proposition I 
 shall tell him that Mr. Everet noticed my 
 pallor, and I think he will feel a little ashamed 
 of himself. He ought to.
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 233 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 [From Helen s Diary.] 
 
 February . Arose, breakfasted, and went 
 for a drive ; stopped at Gladys s on the way 
 home ; had tea with her in her boudoir. 
 
 Mr. Grayson wanted to come in too, but 
 Gladys wouldn t let him. She says he is 
 really a terrible bore ; that she has to keep 
 him down or he would run right over her. I 
 wish Edgar would run right over me. She 
 says that Mr. Grayson never seems to remem 
 ber that after a woman has discharged all her 
 duties, she is absolutely too worn out for the 
 little et ceteras and asides of life. I think she 
 is right. She is one of those women who 
 carry conviction with all they say ; but I 
 always feel in some way that Edgar is a duty 
 instead of an et cetera and an aside. I dare 
 say I shall get over this in time. Gladys 
 assures me I will.
 
 234 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 She said to-day that I was "just cut out" 
 for a successful diplomat ; that I am so sincere 
 and straightforward in my manner that I am 
 the last person on earth to suspect. She says 
 it will be my " trump card" when I know how 
 to play it. 
 
 I presume I am lacking in fine apprecia 
 tion, but in some way this seemed to cheapen 
 sincerity. It does not, of course, for of all 
 women in the world, Gladys would be the 
 last to endure cheap sentiment or cheap lace. 
 Of all the spotless, high-bred, delicate, forcible 
 women I have ever seen, she is the most 
 so. 
 
 I blushed to think of the cold contempt she 
 would feel for me should she even know that I 
 had heard such a proposition. I represented 
 to her a case like mine, as though it were 
 something I had heard of, and asked her what 
 she could think of such a thing. Her haughty 
 indignation was superb, inspiring. It did me 
 good. I feel just so myself. I wanted to 
 blush for even having made Mr. Everet go 
 there the other night. 
 
 Well, nothing else of any account happened 
 to-day. 
 
 I met Mrs. Stevens and looked the other 
 way, at the pug of the wife of the Secretary 
 of the Navy. It is so strange that she has no
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 235 
 
 better taste than to wear a blue gown with a 
 brown dog. 
 
 I chatted a moment with Senator Stacy s 
 wife, and told her that her second child was a 
 picture (it is of ugliness). I felt it a duty 
 to say this, however, as the only thing false 
 about it was the impression it conveyed to her 
 and the Senator s good will is quite neces 
 sary to Edgar s plans. 
 
 Then I went to the Talbots , and wound up 
 with the Farringtons reception. 
 
 And now, thank heaven, I am going to bed, 
 and Edgar will be at home in the morning. 
 I shall go nowhere to-morrow night, for he 
 will be glad to have me at home unless he 
 should treat me coldly. I won t even think 
 of that.
 
 236 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 [From Helen s Diary.] 
 
 February 16, 18 . To-day Edgar came 
 into the library after dinner I dined alone, and 
 was taking my coffee there, cosily, by the 
 fire. He stood in the door a moment, looking 
 at me, before he entered the room. The first 
 thing he said was : 
 
 " Good Heavens ! What should not a 
 woman like you be able to accomplish 
 
 This, after having been out of town three 
 days ! 
 
 He said it as though wholly engrossed with 
 that one thought that my beauty and charm 
 are valuable to him as a means by which to 
 accomplish, instead of being things dear to 
 him for their own sake, because they belong to 
 him. 
 
 I daresay I am foolishly sensitive about this. 
 I know he adores me. He proved the injus-
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 237 
 
 ticc of my thought a moment later while the 
 impression was yet in my mind. He hurried 
 across the room and threw himself on his 
 knees by my chair. I had not risen to meet 
 him, as my heart and first impulse had 
 prompted, because his greeting had repelled 
 me, but I felt humiliated and reproached my 
 self for my pettiness afterwards. 
 
 I was thankful that he was so engrossed with 
 seeing me again as not to notice it. He threw 
 himself on his knees by me and kissed my 
 hands. 
 
 He looks tired and worn. It impressed me 
 for the first time as he knelt there with his 
 arms about my waist. He said, in a tone that 
 brought the tears to my eyes : 
 
 " I have thought of you almost constantly, 
 dear, since I have been away from you." 
 
 He said it wistfully. I knew his mind had 
 been on the scene we had, here, in this room 
 where I am writing, before he left. 
 
 There was a sort of dreary surrender in his 
 tone ; but every inflection of his voice, and 
 every glance, conveyed passionate love for me. 
 I should have felt no reproach or misgiving 
 had it been otherwise, but his apparent giving 
 up, and hopelessness, touched me. 
 
 I do not know that I have done right. I 
 have not mentioned the subject, nor has he re-
 
 238 JUGGERNA UT: 
 
 ferred to it in any way since he got back this 
 evening. I don t know that it is anything suf 
 ficiently out of the usual order of things to 
 justify my decision. That Edgar is cruelly 
 disappointed is certain. That he does not re 
 proach me is certain. That he loves me better 
 than he ever has done before, is certain. 
 
 Two months ago, had I greeted him after a 
 twenty-four hours absence as indifferently as I 
 fear I did to-night, he would not have for 
 gotten it in a month, but he was so thoroughly 
 engrossed in his own happiness in getting 
 home to me to-night, that he did not even 
 notice my manner. 
 
 I feel my purpose suddenly shaken. The 
 memory of his face, its resignation, its weary 
 expression, haunts me. One moment I am 
 impelled to say " I will do anything you ask," 
 and the next, I am seized with repulsion at the 
 thought of accomplishing anything by such a 
 means. 
 
 The idea of a woman s receiving adulation 
 from another man than her husband, seems a 
 scandalous thing; but the idea of her courting 
 it setting out with a deliberate purpose to 
 win it seems monstrous. 
 
 And yet, if Edgar doesn t rebel, I don t 
 really see much excuse for obstinacy on my 
 part. It does seem a little " far fetched " in
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 239 
 
 me when I come to consider the circumstan 
 ces. If it were a usual thing, a thing that 
 would be considered as a matter of course, I 
 should feel less strongly about it, but it is so 
 extraordinary at least it seems so to me. 
 
 I can imagine Mrs. Hetherington exclaiming: 
 " Disgraceful ! " and see Gladys s look of cold 
 surprise, tinged with her ironical expression 
 that she preserves for the little, unconventional 
 escapades of A, B and C. This kind of thing 
 is intolerable to me. When I think of this, 
 every fibre of my body resents the possibility 
 of such a thing. And when I remember his 
 face to-night, I can no longer think on the 
 other side of the question. 
 
 He is over at the Arlington at this moment, 
 engaged in heaven knows what, that will send 
 him home to me looking more depressed and 
 miserable than ever. 
 
 Some one taps lightly on the door, and 
 opens it without ceremony, and Helen throws 
 down her pen as Braine enters. 
 
 It is as she has expected. His face and 
 manner indicate fatigue. He brightens up 
 and says with a show of gayety so evidently 
 forced that Helen s lips tremble a little: 
 
 " Well, dearest ! " 
 
 She goes slowly to him, and takes his hands
 
 240 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 which he is holding out to her. She looks at 
 him wistfully, with a half sad little smile on her 
 face. She says softly : 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "You are all alone to-night? No recep 
 tions, nor affairs ?" 
 
 The glimmer-smile deepens a little, and she 
 draws him towards the fire. She says push 
 ing him into the chair : 
 
 "Oh yes plenty of them Gladys gave a 
 dinner to the Stones to-night." 
 
 " And you are not there?" with a little sur-- 
 prise in his voice, but an expression half-eager, 
 half-pleased on his face. 
 
 She brightens as she notes the look, and 
 says softly : 
 
 No, I like this better." 
 
 She leans against him, and rubs her cheek- 
 carelessly against his shoulder. 
 
 The gratified expression deepens an instant ; 
 then Braine says a little hurriedly, with a 
 touch of anxiety in the tone : 
 
 "You must not neglect anything for me, 
 dearest. Social duties are everything here. 
 Don t mind me. I sha n t feel neglected." 
 
 Helen slowly raises her head. She stares at 
 him for a moment. He is looking abstract 
 edly into the fire, and patting her hand in a 
 mechanical way. He does not see her face.
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 241 
 
 The expression of pleasure and gratification 
 has died out of it. Expressions of astonish 
 ment, humiliation, resentment and hauteur 
 replace each other there successively. Now 
 she says in a cold tone : 
 
 " I did not remain on that account, of 
 course. I had a slight headache a mere 
 nothing " as Brainc looks up anxiously 
 " But I felt that the crush there to-night would 
 not help it." 
 
 She finishes a little less coldly. Braine has 
 not noticed the tone. When she has said that 
 the headache is a " mere nothing," he at once 
 goes back to his meditations but the sudden 
 look of anxious sympathy has at once touched 
 her, and caused another revulsion of feeling in 
 his favor. 
 
 She crosses the room and picks up a book 
 from the table. 
 
 Suddenly Braine says, as though thinking 
 aloud : 
 
 " If this should go any farther it would be a 
 bad thing for Grayson." 
 
 Helen looks up from her book : 
 
 "Why? What is it?" 
 
 Braine arouses himself, and speaks interest 
 edly : 
 
 " This land grant bill ! Gladys has been 
 trying to run things, it seems, and has made a
 
 242 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 botch of it. She has gone too headlong, and 
 compromised herself to such an extent with 
 the committee chief, that when she was pre 
 pared for a coup de grace, the congressman 
 turned the tables. It is a bad thing for Gray- 
 son. The man has her in his power, and 
 swears that unless Grayson will actively up 
 hold the counter-policy, he will make it un 
 comfortable for his wife. Grayson has just 
 been telling me all about it, and is almost 
 "helpless in the matter. Something must* be 
 done." 
 
 Helen is on her feet. Her eyes are wide 
 with astonishment, and something like horror. 
 She stammers : 
 
 " What what what ? " 
 
 Her tone startles Braine. He looks 
 around : 
 
 "Why Helen! What is the matter, child, 
 I didn t imagine it would startle you so. Of 
 course you feel anxiety for Gladys friends as 
 you are but she is a clever woman, and I 
 have no doubt she will get out of it in some 
 way." 
 
 He speaks reassuringly. She comes to his 
 side. She says hoarsely, with excitement ex 
 pressed in every movement ; 
 
 " Has has has Gladys been working 
 through Mr. Dalzel for this scheme?"
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 243 
 
 Her fingers twist nervously. Braine cannot 
 understand her. He looks at her in bewilder 
 ment : 
 
 " Working for it ? Why certainly, dear. 
 Why shouldn t she her husband s interests 
 are hers. Yes. She has been doing what she 
 could, of course she has done her best, and 
 isn t to blame for such a faux pas as this ; but 
 it seems a little stupid in her. There would be 
 no danger of such a thing on your part ! " 
 
 He makes the remark more to himself than 
 to her, and leans back, watching her through 
 his half-closed lids. How proud he is of this 
 woman ! How he loves her ! 
 
 Helen stands quietly by his side, looking in 
 tently at the coals in the grate. Presently she 
 says in a low, calm tone of conviction, elation, 
 irrevocable decision : 
 
 " No, /should make no mistakes." 
 
 A silence. After a moment : 
 
 " I have been thinking over the little con 
 versation we had before you left, Edgar. I 
 have changed my mind. I think I will see 
 Everet." 
 
 Braine rises from his chair. He stands look 
 ing at her fora moment. He takes her in his 
 arms.
 
 244 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 [From Helen s Diary.] 
 
 February, 18 . Well, I really cannot ex 
 press my feelings. It seems to me that in 
 twenty-four hours I have been metamor 
 phosed and am some one else living in another 
 world. 
 
 Now that I have undertaken this, I have no 
 idea of failing. I will succeed, if it costs every 
 thing. I suddenly feel that I am made for this. 
 
 Gladys called to-day. Everet had just made 
 a short call and gone. He did not know 
 whether he left by the front steps to the street, 
 or was making a descent from heaven into the 
 other place and yet, I made only the least 
 exertion to please, imaginable. It made me 
 feel superb, magnificent, inspired, when I 
 thought of what I can do if I really try. 
 
 I felt a mad exultation over Gladys. She 
 was as pale as a ghost, and hardly seemed to
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 245 
 
 know what she was talking about. I should 
 never betray my defeat or difficulty if I should 
 meet with it. I felt such a superiority that I 
 almost felt like shrieking it at her, when 
 remembering how she has deceived me all this 
 time. I was secretly delighted, though, at my 
 astonishing self-control, for she never noticed 
 a thing. She said : 
 
 " How I envy your freedom from care and 
 anxiety, and your innocence of all the wire 
 pulling that some have to do." 
 
 She looked fagged out when she said this, 
 I should not have known her. She never 
 spoke in this manner before. 
 
 I smiled and said, " I presumed it must be 
 wearing especially if one was not clever 
 enough to succeed." 
 
 She looked at me sharply, and with some 
 surprise. Yesterday I would have shrivelled 
 all up under the look. To-day I just smiled 
 calmly. 
 
 If nothing else urged me on if I were not 
 doing this for Edgar s sake I should be wild 
 to attempt it just to prove my power and 
 ability superior to Gladys s. To think how 
 completely she has deceived me all this 
 time ! 
 
 Edgar almost wearied me with affection to 
 night. One can t be always troubled with
 
 246 JUG GERNA UT: 
 
 sentiment, when one has matters of so much 
 importance on hand. 
 
 Of course, I did nothing to wound his feel 
 ings but he understood by my manner that I 
 was preoccupied. 
 
 He tried to coach me. Coach me ! How 
 stupid men are sometimes ! He was deter 
 mined that I should grasp Everet by the col 
 lar and hold him while he consented to do as I 
 wished. I gave him to understand that I must 
 be absolutely let alone in this matter ; that in 
 an affair like this there was nothing for him to 
 teach me. Such a proceeding would ruin all. 
 Everet would jump out of the window, and 
 never be seen any more. It is my innocence 
 and unworldliness that have attracted him, and 
 it is that that must fascinate him. I must ap 
 pear to gain nothing by strategy, even in the 
 end, but by pure uncalculating innocence. He 
 must be absolutely under my control before 
 one other step is taken. 
 
 If argument would have accomplished his 
 yielding there would be no need of effort on 
 my part. It would have been accomplished 
 long ago. If I am to be mistress of the situa 
 tion I must work entirely with personal allure 
 ment. 
 
 To-night, at dinner I made him drink " to 
 my success." It was delicious. He had no
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 247 
 
 more idea of the import of it than of the way 
 my back hair was done. This one little inci 
 dent so delighted me that I had to laugh and 
 talk incessantly to keep myself within bounds. 
 
 Ed dined at home, with us, and when I 
 looked across at him as I made the suggestion, 
 my eyes were fairly dancing at the supreme 
 irony of it, but Edgar did not seem to see its 
 deliciousness, and looked as grave as an 
 owl. 
 
 Afterward he said : " Women are incom 
 prehensible. Now there was no necessity 
 whatever for that little scene at dinner. Ab 
 solutely none," 
 
 Of course there was none. If there had 
 been, the point would have been lacking. 
 
 To-morrow night I give a theatre party 
 Everet goes and comes home with me 
 Hcigho !
 
 248 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 XXX. 
 
 [From Helen s Diary.] 
 
 March, . It has been days since I have 
 written in this diary. There has been a good 
 deal to record, but I have had neither the 
 time nor desire to do it. 
 
 I see Everet every day. He lunches and 
 dines here quite as though it were home to 
 him. Edgar is seldom here, but when he is, 
 he is discretion itself. There is always a 
 severe dignity preserved between them. 
 
 Everet has the entire run of the house, and 
 drops into my boudoir for tea in the after 
 noons, as a matter of course. 
 
 I manage matters in such a way that we 
 are never seen together in public, except as 
 we casually meet. It required some diplo 
 macy to get out of making one of his theatre 
 party last week, for it would never do for me 
 to appear conscious of any wrong in our
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 249 
 
 public association while I admit him so inti 
 mately in private ; it would betray a depth of 
 discernment and worldliness that he does not 
 dream exists. 
 
 Our relations are those of intimate friends, 
 good comrades, but there is always a dignity 
 preserved. Nothing occurs tha.t the most 
 scrupulous could find fault with if they knew 
 all ; it would never do for them to know a 
 little. It is enough to keep him where he sees 
 me constantly and listens to me. 
 
 The ease with which I charm and achieve, 
 astonishes myself. There is never a word of 
 business. He does not know that I know the 
 House from the Senate I dont when it comes 
 to that, but I can accomplish when I am told 
 what to work for. 
 
 Everet, himself, does not know how essen 
 tial I am to him. I discover from time to 
 time the progress I am making by being 
 " out " two or three days in succession when 
 he calls. I can judge much from the manner 
 of his greeting when he next finds me at home. 
 
 To-day I did a master-stroke. He has some 
 vague idea of his danger. He begins to under 
 stand in some degree what my presence means 
 to him. He was inclined to break loose, and 
 to-day he announced that he was going north 
 for a time.
 
 250 JUG GERNA UT: 
 
 I started, and I think I turned a little pale. 
 I intended to, and for some reason, I felt so. 
 I said quite carelessly : " Yes ? " after he had 
 noticed the start. 
 
 He turned white. He came up to me and 
 took my hands in his, and said in a low tone : 
 
 " Would you mind ? " 
 
 I looked up in surprise (apparently) though 
 the success was in making the apparence appar 
 ent and said : " One always dislikes to lose 
 old friends." I said it quite as a matter of 
 course. I got up and staggered a little, as I 
 went towards the door. 
 
 He was terribly frightened. I said it was 
 " nothing ; " that sometimes I had those slight 
 "attacks" if I became a little excited. The 
 last appeared to be a slip of the tongue. I did 
 not say what the "attacks" were, nor what 
 excitement had caused this particular one, but 
 it was quite unnecessary. It frightened him, 
 and made him suffer a little. 
 
 He remarked that his " business at the north 
 might be postponed for some time yet." I 
 thought so too ! 
 
 There seemed something mean in all this, 
 but a wife who has any affection for her hus 
 band, must feel that his interests are hers. 
 
 Gladys looks terrible. The last time I saw 
 Ed four days ago, at breakfast he said
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 
 
 things were narrowing to a focus ; that he was 
 afraid there was no loop-hole left her. Either 
 Grayson must go over, or Gladys is lost. He ll 
 go over, of course and stay over, until he gets 
 an advantage. 
 
 This constant separation from Edgar is tell 
 ing on me. I don t realize it save at moments 
 of relaxation, for I am generally as hurried and 
 preoccupied these days as he. But there is a 
 lack that I sometimes feel must be supplied. 
 I have not even seen him since Thursday, 
 and I 
 
 Braine comes hurriedly into the library, and 
 speaks quickly while tossing over the papers 
 on the desk by Helen : 
 
 " Have you seen a bundle of papers bearing 
 the stamp, Helen? I thought I left them 
 here." 
 
 She shakes her head. 
 
 " What have you to do to-night, Edgar ? " 
 
 " To-night ? " absently. He pauses and con 
 tinues his search for the papers. 
 
 "Well?" She speaks a little coldly this 
 time. She dislikes to be ignored. 
 
 " Eh ? Oh ! Yes ! What am I going to 
 do to-night? I can t tell you, child, I have 
 more on hand than ten men could do. I don t 
 know. Oh ! " facing her suddenly " about
 
 252 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 this matter with Everet ! What are you ac 
 complishing, Helen ? Matters are moving too 
 slowly. Something must be done at once." 
 
 She has not had more than ten minutes con 
 versation with Braine in a week. This is the 
 manner in which this opportunity is improved. 
 She bites her lip. After a moment she replies 
 carelessly : 
 
 " Really, Edgar, you expect a great deal. 
 I could hardly be expected to gain you the 
 Presidency in six weeks, with nothing to aid 
 me but my own efforts." 
 
 " Hardly; but this is not exactly what is re 
 quired of you. It seems to me that you 
 might hasten matters a little more." 
 
 She does not reply. 
 
 As Braine is leaving the room, he asks : 
 
 " Can you bring matters to a focus in a 
 week ? " 
 
 " No in two weeks," continuing her writ 
 ing without looking up. 
 
 Braine goes out. As the curtain falls be 
 hind him she drops her pen, and rising, begins 
 to pace the floor restlessly. She is suddenly 
 wretched. She hates Everet. She has a mad 
 desire to rush after Braine, and throw herself 
 into his arms. With it all, she feels herself 
 rebuffed, humiliated. 
 
 She seems to have entirely dropped out of
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 253 
 
 Braine s life, save so far as she contributes to 
 his success and advancement for this is not 
 the only matter she has been handling suc 
 cessfully in the last two months. 
 
 She leans her head wearily against the man 
 tel, and sobs softly to herself. She is so wrapt 
 up in her own wretchedness that she is oblivi 
 ous of everything else, and does not hear 
 Everet as he crosses the floor. 
 
 He stands a moment looking at her in sur 
 prise. Then the expression on his face 
 becomes one of anxiety, pain, tenderness. 
 He approaches her softly, and says in a low 
 tone : 
 
 " Mrs. Braine ! " 
 
 Helen starts and raises her head. She does 
 not look up, but stands with her back to him 
 as she dries the tears, and tries to control her 
 voice. She says for want of something bet 
 ter: 
 
 " I did not hear you come in." 
 
 Everet is silent a moment, then lays his 
 hand on her arm. His touch is delicate. 
 There is a subtle tenderness about it. 
 
 She suddenly starts, and turns ghastly. She 
 looks up at him with something like fright and 
 appeal in her face, and he docs not compre 
 hend the look. She flings his hand away with 
 a fierce movement.
 
 254 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 Everet steps back. He looks at her now 
 flushed face in astonishment. She says hoarse- 
 ly: 
 
 "Never do that again. Do you hear? 
 Never touch me again ! " 
 
 Everet feels that there is a little injustice in 
 her tone. He has been a constant visitor at 
 this house for weeks. He has done no more 
 than any acquaintance, who knew her more 
 than slightly, might have done under the cir 
 cumstances. He steps back, and says coldly : 
 
 " I beg your pardon," and turns toward the 
 the door. 
 
 The necessity of the occasion comes to her 
 quickly. He must not go in this way what 
 would Braine say. 
 
 She calls : " Chester." She has never used 
 Everet s first name before. 
 
 He turns swiftly and stands regarding her. 
 There is eagerness in his face. 
 
 She drops her eyes. She holds out her 
 hand and says : 
 
 " I can t tell you why I have spoken in this 
 way. I want you to come back. Believe me 
 when I tell you that it was not because you 
 offended me I offended myself. I I can 
 explain nothing. I beg you to come back." 
 
 He is at her side. He grasps her hands. 
 He says his voice husky with emotion :
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 2$$ 
 
 " I will not go if you would have me stay 
 Did you wish it, I would never 
 
 Me breaks off suddenly. Her sweet, inno 
 cent face is raised inquiringly its innocncee 
 is what forbids. 
 
 She motions him into the chair by the fire, 
 and sits down near the window. She keeps 
 that distance between them while he stays. 
 
 He wants her to go to the theatre with him 
 and a party of friends. He pleads that she is 
 too tired for anything that will require more 
 of effort, that night. 
 
 She refuses in a semi-desperate tone. She 
 is going to a cabinet affair ! She wants to go ! 
 She would not miss it for anything ! He 
 leaves the house, and she goes upstairs slowly. 
 
 Braine s valet is just entering his master s 
 dressing-room as Helen goes by. She pauses, 
 and tells him to ask Mr. Braine to come to 
 her boudoir before he goes out. 
 
 She hurries to her room, and throws on a 
 loose negligee; stirs the fire: darkens the 
 room ; lights the candles. The scene is charm 
 ing, seductive perhaps irresistible. She 
 throws herself negligently into a chair, and 
 puts her pretty feet on the fender. She smiles 
 a little grimly. The scene might have been 
 prepared for Everet so carefully has she 
 arranged ijt.
 
 256 JUGGERNA UT: 
 
 After twenty minutes, Braine taps. She 
 calls " Come in," and half turns in her chair 
 with a smile. She holds out her hand : 
 
 " You will come to the fire ? " 
 
 Braine nods, and steps just inside the door: 
 
 "You wanted me for something?" button 
 ing his glove he speaks pleasantly, but hur 
 riedly. 
 
 She says calmly ; " I was not going out to 
 night." 
 
 There is the most imperceptible pause be 
 fore her next words. Braine makes no remark. 
 She continues ; 
 
 " And I thought if you had any work to do 
 in the way of writing, I might as well do it." 
 
 She finishes, and turns back to the fire. 
 
 He replies : " If you are not going out, you 
 might draft a reply to Carson s letter. It 
 must be carefully done. There must be 
 enough in it to satisfy him, but not enough to 
 commit me. You understand about what I 
 want, I think." 
 
 " Yes. I think so," drily. 
 
 " So I m off, dear. Good-bye." 
 
 The door closes. The woman at the fire 
 rises and looks slowly about the room. The 
 expression in her face is an ugly one. She 
 rings her bell, and mutters, "H m!" as she 
 unties her gown.
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 
 
 She is passive while Susanne dresses her. 
 She docs not leave the house for an hour and 
 a half yet. She finishes her toilet, and goes 
 back to the library to prepare the letter to 
 Carson. It is a masterpiece when finished, and 
 she studies it with satisfaction. 
 
 She put on her wraps and waits a moment 
 for the carriage, then drives off to the " Cabi 
 net affair." 
 
 She has her wits about her she has a busi 
 ness affair here, too. She remains until she 
 knows she has accomplished all she can, and 
 then sends for her carriage. 
 
 She keeps up the farce until she finds her 
 self in the night air, and then is so silent that 
 a man who has been violently in love with 
 her for two entire days, is heart-broken as he 
 takes her to her carriage. 
 
 As she comes within range of the window, 
 she sees the form of a man inside the carriage, 
 and instinctively knows who it is. She steps 
 ahead, and stands before the door as the 
 groom opens it, filling it as completely as she 
 can, and saying an abrupt good night. She 
 leans in front of Everet as she pulls the rug 
 over her, and they drive away. 
 
 She turns to him and looks at him inquisi 
 tively, and a little coldly. She says. " How is 
 this?"
 
 258 JUGGERNA UT : 
 
 Everet seizes her hand. 
 
 " I do not know. I waited for you in the 
 carriage. That is all. I could not help it. I 
 had to see you again to-night." 
 
 Her hand is still in his. Perhaps her fin 
 gers cling as well as his. There is a deep 
 frown between her eyes. She says with dis 
 tress in her voice : 
 
 "You should not. You should not. How 
 could you ? I I I " 
 
 She pauses helplessly. It seems to Everet 
 the helplessness of innocence. He leans near 
 her an instant ; then, with an effort at self- 
 control, drops her hand. 
 
 She leans her head against the side of the 
 carriage. She says under her breath, " Oh, 
 my God ! " 
 
 He hears it, and thinks he has distressed 
 her, shocked her, and begins an apology, his 
 voice emotion-choked. He feels that he has 
 been a brute to intrude on her in this way. 
 
 She does not answer. He can feel that her 
 body is, quivering as though with cold. He 
 attempts to draw the rug more closely about 
 her, but she winces and says with a wail : 
 
 " Don t, don t, don t!" 
 
 He desists, and sits watching her helplessly. 
 She does not speak again until they have 
 reached home. When he touches her hand
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 259 
 
 for a moment as he helps her from the 
 brougham, it is hot and feverish. 
 
 She says, as he turns to follow her up the 
 steps : 
 
 " Don t come in to-night." She hesitates a 
 moment, and then adds with a rush, 
 
 " I must be with my husband. To-morrow 
 I will see you to-morrow." 
 
 She hurries up the steps, and Woolet opens 
 the door. 
 
 " Is Mr. Braine in yet?" 
 
 " In the library, madame." 
 
 She hurries through the hall, untying the 
 cords of her wrap as she goes. She pushes 
 open the door, enters, closes the door, and 
 stands with her back against it, looking at 
 Braine who is writing at the desk. 
 
 As she enters, he glances up hastily, nods, 
 and returns to his writing, remarking ab 
 sently : 
 
 " Home?" 
 
 She does not answer. She stands watching 
 him, listening to the hurried scratch of the 
 pen. 
 
 Presently she says : 
 
 " Edgar ! " 
 
 " Yes ? " without looking up. 
 
 She repeats in a loud, emphatic voice : 
 
 " Edzar ! "
 
 260 JUGGERiYA UT : 
 
 He raises his head in surprise. He looks at 
 her. 
 
 " Well ? Are you ill, Helen ? " 
 
 Her peculiar expression has arrested his 
 attention, and he lays down his pen. Her 
 face is flushed. Her eyes are strangely bril 
 liant. Her long, nervous fingers twist in the 
 cords of her wrap. She leaves her position at 
 the door, and advancing into the room, throws 
 herself into a chair. She replies in a hard 
 voice : 
 
 "111? No, oh no!" 
 
 Braine looks at her inquiringly. She is 
 looking straight into his face. He says pres 
 ently, with eagerness : 
 
 " Oh, you have something to tell me about 
 Everet?" 
 
 " I have nothing to tell you about Everet," 
 in the same inscrutable tone. 
 
 Braine looks annoyed, and says a little 
 quickly: 
 
 "You want something of me?" 
 
 There is silence for a moment while they 
 look into each other s faces. Then she bursts 
 out excitedly : 
 
 "Yes, I want something of you. I want you 
 to take me in your arms. I want you to for 
 get that you are a United States Senator for an 
 hour. I want you to forget that any one lives
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 261 
 
 but you and me. I want you to say, Helen, 
 I love you. I want convincing demonstration 
 that I am your wife as well as your lobbyist." 
 
 There is a sting in every word. She is on 
 her feet, flashing her emotion at him with her 
 beautiful eyes. 
 
 Braine half rises from his chair, and then 
 sinks back. His face grows tender. He says 
 kindly : 
 
 " Come here, dear. I do love you. I know 
 I have been cold and preoccupied lately, but 
 you should understand that I love you, Helen, 
 better than my life. This is not like you, dear. 
 You are tired and nervous. All this business 
 is new to you. I am proud of you, little one. 
 I have unlimited confidence in you. There 
 there," as she sobs violently in his arms ; " you 
 are worn out, dear. You must not sit up. 
 To-morrow we will talk it all over. Kiss me 
 good night, dear 
 
 She suddenly tightens her arms around him. 
 She sobs : 
 
 " Not good night, Ed. Not good night. I 
 must not be put off so to-night, dearest. I -I 
 love you so." 
 
 She is kissing his hands and face excitedly, 
 and is speaking in little broken phrases. All 
 her blood seems to have become a quivering 
 flame.
 
 262 JUGGERNA UT : 
 
 Braine soothes her gently and says : 
 
 " You shall not be put off. I said good 
 night, dear, out of consideration for you. You 
 look so exhausted, dear child. I must do a 
 little more work, and then I will stop. Go up 
 and get off your tight, uncomfortable gown. 
 I will not be long." 
 
 He touches her forehead with his lips. She 
 moves toward the door. She says brokenly, 
 through her smiles : 
 
 " It is good of you, Ed." 
 
 He smiles and replies : 
 
 " Good to myself" 
 
 She hurries through the hall and up the 
 stairs. She is trembling with happiness. She 
 has not had so intimate a conversation with 
 Braine for three weeks. She pushes open her 
 dressing-room door. Susanne has been asleep, 
 but rises quickly to assist her. She undresses 
 Helen deftly : 
 
 " Is Madame going at once to bed? " 
 
 Helen shakes her head. Susanne brings her 
 a negligee. Helen pushes it away: 
 
 " No, the new one the one sent home yes 
 terday." 
 
 Susanne s eyes sparkle. She brings it at 
 once. She remarks : 
 
 " Madame has enjoyed herself?" 
 
 Helen s face is wreathed in a constant, misty
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 263 
 
 smile. She looks inquiringly at Susanne and 
 answers : 
 
 " Yes no you may go now. Good 
 night. 
 
 For a moment after Susanne is gone, Helen 
 stands thoughtfully before the mirror. She 
 looks at her reflection carefully. She says half 
 aloud : 
 
 " How beautiful I am ! I never was so glad 
 to be beautiful, before. I feel like a young 
 girl again." 
 
 She studies the tall, lissome figure before 
 her. The folds of her gown cling to her limbs, 
 emphasizing every sumptuous curve. She says 
 in a little tone of elation : 
 
 " I low glad Edgar must be that you belong 
 to him," nodding at herself. 
 
 She hears the library door open below, and 
 goes to the door. She opens it cautiously. 
 There is in her manner, the delicious shyness 
 of a young girl with her first lover. She lis 
 tens a moment, and hearing no step, goes 
 softly to the stairs. The hall door below is 
 just closing. 
 
 Braine has gone out.
 
 264 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 SUSANNE comes into the room, saying to 
 Helen who lies in bed, listlessly staring out of 
 the window into the frosty morning : 
 
 " Madame s bath is ready." 
 
 Helen rises and goes toward the bath-room. 
 Her movements are languid, spiritless. Her 
 face indicates a sleepless night. When she 
 takes her seat at the dressing-table, she remarks 
 briefly : 
 
 " Make me look my best this morning. I 
 am particularly anxious this morning." 
 
 " Yes, Madame." 
 
 The maid works deftly, and soon Helen, 
 perfectly equipped, opens her door. She gives 
 a furtive glance down the hall. 
 
 Braine s room door stands open, and she gets 
 a glimpse of Sherry brushing a dress coat 
 within. She knows that Braine is up, and 
 thinks he has probably gone out. She goes
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 265 
 
 collectedly down the stairs, and enters the 
 breakfast room. 
 
 Braine sits in the alcove, reading the morn 
 ing papers. As she enters, he looks up and 
 says : 
 
 " Listen to this, Helen," and he begins 
 reading a sensational article implicating the 
 Graysons in a scandal so thinly disguised in 
 the telling, that the disguise serves only to 
 emphasize what lies beneath it, as a veil often 
 accentuates the face it pretends to conceal. 
 
 After a few words touching this affair, 
 Braine says, as though suddenly remembering 
 the matter : 
 
 " I was sorry to disappoint you last night, 
 dear 
 
 Helen interrupts him, raising her eyebrows, 
 and saying, curiously: 
 
 " Disappoint me? " 
 
 " By not joining you as I promised." 
 
 " Oh ! " in a calm, indifferent tone, as though 
 she had quite forgotten the circumstance. 
 
 " I happened to remember at the last min 
 ute that Weldon was to leave on the early 
 train for the north, and I had to see him with 
 out fail before he left, so I ran down to his 
 hotel. We talked until three o clock, and I 
 knew you were so tired that you would be 
 asleep by then."
 
 266 JUGGERNA UT: 
 
 She replies calmly : 
 
 " Oh yes, I was asleep by then. It was 
 quite as well, I was very tired." 
 
 Her indifference is so apparent that it 
 amounts to scant courtesy. 
 
 This piques Braine a little, and he invol 
 untarily looks up, and says in a tone just a 
 trifle acid : 
 
 " Had I known that it was just as well, I 
 should have had my breakfast thirty minutes 
 ago, and been down town. Perhaps I was 
 justified, however, in making the mistake and 
 losing valuable time. You were last evening 
 somewhat impulsive, if I remember rightly." 
 
 He is annoyed this morning. He smiles a 
 little indulgently. 
 
 Helen has been looking into his eyes while 
 he has spokeYi. She rises with an indescriba 
 ble air. She says in an icy tone of reproof : 
 
 "You are intolerable, sir," and leaves the 
 room. 
 
 Braine bites his lip. He sees his mistake 
 the first of its kind he ever made and how un 
 pardonable it must seem to a delicate woman 
 like Helen ! He is surprised and annoyed at 
 himself, and finishing his breakfast quickly, 
 hurries away. 
 
 The day drags slowly. Helen does not 
 leave her room again. Everet calls, and she
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 267 
 
 sends him word that she has a headache to 
 call in the evening, about half-past eight. 
 
 She means to get this matter off her hands 
 at once. The situation under the circum 
 stances is becoming unbearable. She can 
 neither read nor write to-day, and time drags 
 heavily. 
 
 When she recalls last night, and Braine s af 
 front this morning, she feels her face tingle 
 with mortification. That she should humili 
 ate herself sufficiently to sue for Braine s ca 
 resses, and then be ignored, neglected, forgot 
 ten, was bad enough ; that he should refer to 
 the matter as her disappointment was worse ; 
 but that he should remind her of her part in 
 it, is not to be endured. 
 
 She finds herself biting her lip or clenching 
 her hands until the pain reminds her of what 
 she is doing. 
 
 Toward evening, she throws herself on the 
 bed and sleeps.
 
 268 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 " BE quick ! Don t move so slowly." 
 
 Helen pulls the little curls about her tem 
 ples, with an impatient twitch. Susanne does 
 not reply, but seems to be a little more deft 
 in her movements. 
 
 Helen is pale, and her face looks a little 
 haggard ; there is a peculiar brilliancy in her 
 eyes ; there is something vaguely pathetic in 
 the droop of the corners of her mouth. 
 
 She sits quietly in her chair for a moment, 
 evidently exerting herself to be calm. Su 
 sanne works intently at the heavy coils of her 
 hair, and the gold pins she is skewering through 
 it. 
 
 Presently, Helen leans forward to look at 
 herself more closely in the mirror, and upsets 
 a bottle of toilet water that deluges powders, 
 brushes, toilet creams and the rest of the array 
 on the low, French table. 
 
 She rises with an angry exclamation. She
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 269 
 
 is quivering in every fibre. She says in a low 
 voice, hoarse with irritation, nervousness, ex 
 citement : 
 
 " You may go. Get me a negligee first. I 
 shall not dress to-night." 
 
 Susanne stares at her. 
 
 " Monsieur Everet, Madame! " 
 
 Helen turns slowly and looks at her. She 
 says, in the same peculiarly low voice of a mo 
 ment ago : 
 
 " Never speak of him again. Remember! 
 or you leave my service." 
 
 The girl steps back and murmurs something 
 apologetic. Some one knocks on the door. 
 Helen motions to Susanne, with her finger on 
 her lips, and starts towards the bedroom. 
 
 Susanne moves slowly to give Helen time to 
 leave the room ; but the door opens and Braine 
 steps in before Helen has reached the cur 
 tains. 
 
 He says hurriedly : 
 
 " Pardon, Helen ! You are dressing ? May 
 I see you alone for a moment ? I won t de 
 tain you long." 
 
 She nods slightly, and makes a gesture of 
 dismissal to Susanne, as she comes slowly back 
 to the dressing-table. 
 
 Her shoulders are bare : she had just thrown 
 off her dressing-gown ; she pulls about her the
 
 2/0 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 scarf that lies over the chair back, Braine leans 
 against the chiffonniere watching her absently. 
 
 " How beautiful you are, Helen ! " 
 
 " You wanted to speak to me of something 
 particular? " 
 
 "Oh, yes," arousing himself. "Yes. Now, 
 about this affair with Everet ! Things must 
 come to a focus to-night. You understand all 
 it means to me. Success in the scheme means 
 advancement in every way politically and 
 socially you understand as well as I. Fail 
 ure, well, we will not consider failure. Make 
 him 
 
 She makes a sudden gesture of the hand : 
 
 " I cannot! not to-night. I am not well 
 j " 
 
 Braine straightens himself. He says coldly, 
 with a flavor of reproof in his tone : 
 
 " You will not see him ! This is hardly the 
 time to indulge caprice. Of course you will 
 see him, and do what you can. If you fail 
 then, it will be nothing for which you are to 
 blame ; but I insist that in this crisis you make 
 what effort you can for our mutual benefit. 
 My advancement is yours. I shall count on 
 you. You cannot fail if you exert yourself 
 ever so little," with a touch of tenderness and 
 some pride, and a great deal of confidence in 
 the tone.
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 2/1 
 
 "Ed!" 
 
 Helen rises suddenly and comes towards 
 him. She holds out her hands with a little 
 appeal. Her face is very white, and her lips 
 are quivering. 
 
 He takes her hands kindly, and laughs 
 lightly: 
 
 There ! You need not be anxious or be 
 come excited. I know ; you realized how much 
 depends on this, and became a little discour 
 aged and fearful. I don t want you to feel so ; 
 just do your best. If you fail, surely I could 
 not blame you. But you will not fail. You 
 are gloriously equipped for the wife of an am 
 bitious man," in a tone of elation. 
 
 He is, nevertheless, preoccupied, and though 
 he still clasps her hands, the pressure has 
 grown very slight, and indeed her hands re 
 main in his only because she holds them there. 
 He seems to forget her, and is studying the 
 carpet. She stands looking at him. Presently 
 she says: 
 
 " Kiss me will you ? " 
 
 He stoops and brushes her forehead lightly, 
 with his lips. She lets her hands fall inertly 
 at her side. She, too, stands studying the 
 carpet. He says, brusquely: 
 
 " I will leave you now and let you finish 
 dressing. I am to meet Austin at the Arling-
 
 2/2 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 ton at nine. It is after eight now," looking at 
 his watch and turning hastily to the door. 
 
 " I shall count on you, Helen. Things 
 must come to a focus to-night." 
 
 She stands a moment looking at the closed 
 door where he has gone out, and then walks 
 back to the dressing-table. She stands finger 
 ing some of the manicure apparatus lying on it, 
 disorderly, with the rest of the table s con 
 tents. Once, she puts her hand to her throat 
 as though she were choking. She gets a sight 
 of her face in the mirror, and holds her breath 
 for an instant. She is ghastly. There are 
 deep rings under her eyes. She nervously 
 rubs a hare s foot over her cheeks, and they 
 blush a little for the evening. 
 
 She slowly crosses the room and rings her 
 bell; then returns to her chair and sits down. 
 
 Susanne apears, uncertain in manner, in the 
 doorway. 
 
 "You may finish dressing me, Susanne." 
 
 Susanne looks a little anxious, and sets 
 about her business. 
 
 Helen attentively watches all she does. 
 She holds out one of her small feet to be slip 
 pered. One of the pair brought is put on. 
 She is dissatisfied and demands another pair. 
 
 Susanne takes Everet s violets from the 
 water, and fastens them on her corsage.
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 273 
 
 "Madame is finished." 
 
 No, oh no, she is not not for two hours 
 yet. 
 
 Helen goes slowly down the stairs ; in the 
 hall below she stops a moment to give an 
 instruction to a servant passing through. She 
 speaks in her natural tone, perhaps a little more 
 coldly because she is more excited than usual. 
 She is quivering. She passes on to the library. 
 She looks about the room reflectively. She 
 rings the bell. The servant to whom she 
 spoke in the hall, appears. 
 
 "When Mr. Everet comes, ask him to come 
 in here, to the library. Say that I will be 
 down in a moment. You understand ? He is 
 to come in here and wait for me. You are not 
 to shoiv him here he knows the way." 
 
 The man bows and goes from the room. 
 
 She looks at the clock. It is nearly half- 
 past eight. Everet is to come at half-past. 
 
 She walks to the cosy chair by the fire, and 
 stops thoughtfully. 
 
 She turns to the divan, and says aloud: 
 
 " The light is better there. It is more effec 
 tive." 
 
 She crosses to the divan, and drawing the 
 cushions together in a fashion that pleases her, 
 sinks into them half sitting, half reclining. 
 The light from the rose lamp-shade casts a
 
 2 74 JUG GERNA UT: 
 
 faint glow over the apartment. She looks 
 across the room to her reflection in the long 
 mirror opposite. She scans herself critically, 
 draws another cushion under her arm, and leans 
 her head on her hand. She adjusts her gown 
 to her fancy, and her attitude is perfect. She 
 is apparently satisfied with herself, for she 
 remains as she is. Her face indicates nothing. 
 
 The minutes tick by. 
 
 Some one is standing in the doorway she 
 can see from under her half-closed lids in the 
 glass across the room. 
 
 Everet stands, silently, watching her. She 
 is evidently asleep. He crosses the floor softly 
 and stands over her. 
 
 His glance takes in every detail of the 
 entrancing picture ; the whiteness of her arm 
 on the pale blue of the pillow ; the lace petti 
 coat ; the half-exposed foot ; the curve of her 
 neck. 
 
 He forgets that she may wake, and stands 
 looking at her. His usually pale face flushes 
 slightly, and his nervous fingers seem a little 
 more nervous than usual. 
 
 The woman on the divan wakes at the right 
 moment, the moment could not have been 
 more propitious had it been carefully se 
 lected. 
 
 She opens her eyes dreamily and looks at
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 2/5 
 
 him. Then, with a little start of confusion 
 sits erect v and murmurs something about "the 
 heat of the room and the drowsiness of the 
 dim light." 
 
 Everet is still flushed, and there is some 
 emotion in his voice. 
 
 " The servant told me to await you here 
 that you were not down yet." 
 
 " I have a very stupid servant I always 
 have to give him the most explicit instructions ; 
 and then he does not always comprehend. 
 Will you sit here by the fire?" 
 
 They draw near the fire together. She seats 
 herself on a low ottoman ; he sits in the cozy 
 chair. 
 
 " It must be very cold to-night. I have 
 shivered all the afternoon, notwithstanding the 
 hot fire w r e have kept." 
 
 She leans toward him, and makes an attempt 
 to reach the scarf she threw with careful care 
 lessness on the chair when she entered the 
 room a while ago. She is compelled to lean 
 very near him and yet cannot quite reach 
 it. 
 
 He places it about her shoulders the lace 
 catches on a pin in her hair, and Everet care 
 fully disentangles it. When he has succeeded, 
 he makes the remark that she is not well that 
 she is feverish. She laughs a little nervously :
 
 2/6 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 " I I am very well." 
 
 Her tone belies her words. Everet looks at 
 her anxiously : 
 
 " You are not well. Tell me what it is." 
 
 He lays his hand over hers. Suddenly there 
 are tears in her eyes at the same time she is 
 watching him furtively. 
 
 " What is it ? nothing nothing ! " 
 
 " There is something. Something is annoy 
 ing you troubling you. You must tell me 
 what it is." 
 
 There is sudden command in his voice. 
 She clasps her hands. Her excitement is 
 intense, but she does not forget the business 
 in hand for an instant. Even when she clasps 
 her hands in an excess of agitation, she remem 
 bers to make the action effective. It is effective. 
 
 "Helen," he speaks under his breath, 
 " I want to know what troubles you. Has it 
 anything to do with business? " 
 
 She starts a little. 
 
 " Has it anything to do with business 
 affairs?" 
 
 He repeats it. 
 
 She does not answer. 
 
 " Is it about this measure Braine is working 
 for ? " 
 
 She holds her breath for an instant, and 
 then slowly nods.
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 277 
 
 Everet looks at the fire thoughtfully: 
 
 " How can that worry you ? " 
 
 " Ed is anxious. It means Ah ! " throw 
 ing out her hands with a helpless, childish 
 gesture, "it means everything. I cannot tell 
 you why I am personally anxious." 
 
 " I understand that it can mean much to 
 you in one way but in a way that I did not 
 suppose was of any moment to you. I under 
 stand all it means to Braine, but I am not jn 
 sympathy with it. I could not uphold it it is 
 a dishonest affair." 
 
 He looks at her. Her lips are pressed 
 tightly together. Suddenly she says in a de 
 spairing little wail : 
 
 " Oh ! it don t matter." 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "Whether it seems dishonest to you or not. 
 It will fall through." 
 
 " Why? " looking at her sharply. 
 
 She ignores the glance. 
 
 "Why?" impatiently. "Why? Because 
 the one man whose approval and assistance is 
 needful will not approve nor assist." 
 
 A pause. " Who is it ? " watching her. 
 
 " Who is it ? I don t know. How do you 
 suppose I know ? I know nothing of politics. 
 I hear Ed fret and look anxious. Now and 
 then he condescends to drop a word but I
 
 2/8 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 can t understand if he does. I don t know 
 who it is. I only know it is some one." 
 
 Everet looks back at the fire. She has not 
 flinched once. She speaks with the ring of 
 truth in her voice. He has been in this 
 woman s society almost constantly for weeks, 
 and she has never mentioned anything per 
 taining to politics or " business." He believes 
 that those subjects are beyond her compre 
 hension. 
 
 He looks back at her. He wonders if it is 
 possible that Braine has not told her that he 
 is the needful man. As he looks at her sweet, 
 troubled face, he decides that it is possible ; 
 that she is innocent. 
 
 " Would you like to know the man ? Would 
 it be of any interest to you ? " 
 
 She turns to him with a sudden excited 
 movement. She impulsively lays her hand on 
 his knee, and leans lightly against him. 
 
 " Would it ? Ah ! I would go to him ; I 
 would say: You do not know all that this 
 means to me how madly I want this thing 
 to succeed. I would implore him to listen to 
 me. I 
 
 Her intensity of emotion is contagious, and 
 Everet listens to her, scarcely comprehending 
 her words, but realizing two facts, both new 
 to him, that he loves this woman, and has
 
 A VEILED RECORD 279 
 
 loved her all these weeks without knowing it, 
 and that the one present, overmastering desire 
 of her soul is to accomplish this end of win 
 ning him to second Braine s scheme. His con 
 science would forbid if it were awake, but his 
 passion for this woman the wife of his friend 
 has drugged it to sleep. 
 
 " Helen," he cries, " I will do what you 
 ask. I would do anything, everything for you. 
 I would commit a crime, if you did but ask it. 
 I will support the measure." 
 
 " You will do this for me ? " 
 
 " For you. I would not do it for any other 
 in the world." 
 
 " Write it then whatever it is. Say in 
 writing that you will do it," pushing him to 
 her open desk. 
 
 He scribbles a few lines and throws down 
 the pen. 
 
 " You have done this for me ? " she asks 
 again. 
 
 " For you, Helen." 
 
 " Then I am yours." 
 
 She falls, half stifling, into his arms, and he 
 clumsily tries to soothe her as he places her on 
 the divan, and kneels beside her. 
 
 She presently says, still almost frantically : 
 
 " You do not know ! I came to this room 
 to-night with one deliberate purpose to ac-
 
 280 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 complish what I have done; to compel you to 
 support this measure. I have loved you more 
 and more every day of these last weeks. God 
 forgive me ! I could not help it. I realized 
 my helplessness, and tried to keep away from 
 you. I made excuses. I was ill, incapable, 
 anything. I tried to tell him the truth. If he 
 is not a madman he must have known my con 
 dition and my attitude toward you. He did 
 not care. He wanted success. He only cared 
 for me so far as I was of use to him in satisfy 
 ing his ambition. He gave no thought to me. 
 I have not seen him more than once in twenty- 
 four hours for the last three months, and that 
 was when he had some instruction to give me. 
 He has pushed me over a precipice. Ah ! I 
 am mad, starving for that which he denies me 
 affection. He thinks of me as a machine to 
 do his work ; with no feeling, no emotion, 
 nothing human about me. I have tried to do 
 my duty. I did not forget myself until I had 
 accomplished his work. Now now no mat 
 ter !" 
 
 She buries her face in the pillows of the 
 divan, while Everet looks on appalled. 
 
 Some one stands between the portieres. 
 Helen staggers to her feet. Everet involun 
 tarily puts his hand on her shoulder.
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 
 
 Braine comes slowly to the middle of the 
 room. His face is livid. He stops. He artic 
 ulates hoarsely : 
 
 " Take away your hand 1 " 
 
 Everet does not move, but looks Braine in 
 the face. Helen leans heavily against him. 
 She is fainting, perhaps. 
 
 Braine stands motionless a moment, with 
 his hands clenched. He makes a sudden 
 move toward the pair. He is trembling with 
 fury. He raises his clenched fist. Helen 
 rises and steps toward him. She seems sud 
 denly to have recovered herself. She says in 
 a strange, tense voice : 
 
 "Stop!" 
 
 Braine takes a step backward it is some 
 thing in her face that prompts the action. 
 
 She stands looking at him a moment. The 
 room is very still : 
 
 " I love this man. I am disloyal." 
 
 She crosses the room with a swift move 
 ment, and catches from the desk the paper 
 Everet has written on. She holds it out : 
 
 " He has taken me from you. In return 
 we give you this." 
 
 She holds out the paper. Braine is staring 
 at her stupidly, and does not take it. She 
 drops it at his feet. She is very quiet in her 
 manner and tone, but she is intense.
 
 282 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 Everet is suffocating. Both men watch her 
 in a kind of dream. She goes on swiftly : 
 
 " I have done what I could for you. A rea 
 sonable man would be quite satisfied ; I pre 
 sume you will be ; but my usefulness, so far as 
 you are concerned, is at an end. I have lived 
 for you these last years now I am going 
 to live for myself. I am going away with 
 this man. Have you anything to say?" 
 
 A pause, during which they hear every 
 little sound in the house and in the streets. 
 
 Finally, Braine comes toward her. He 
 stretches out his hands appealingly : 
 
 11 Helen" 
 
 His voice sounds strange and hollow. She 
 does not move. She says : 
 
 " Go on." 
 
 He repeats again : 
 
 " Helen" 
 
 He stops again ; then suddenly staggers 
 against the wall. He moans : 
 
 " Oh, my God ! " 
 
 She does not speak. Everet is under a 
 spell. Even the shadows cast by the chairs 
 seem to grin grotesquely. 
 
 Braine tries to recover himself : 
 
 " Helen ! on my knees I implore you to for 
 give me. I see it all the fault is mine. You 
 are justified ; but you are mad. You don t
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 283 
 
 know what you say. I love you ! Oh God ! 
 I have never loved you as I do this moment. 
 Come back to me. I will forgive 
 
 " Forgive ! " 
 
 The pose of her head is regal. 
 
 Braine staggers toward her, and drops on his 
 knees. For an instant, there is a faint glow of 
 tenderness in her face, but it flits across and 
 does not stay. There is an added coldness in 
 the iciness of her tone : 
 
 " I understand that I am not without value 
 as a wifely politician. I understand that 
 you will suffer some inconvenience in my loss. 
 I trust you can fill the vacant situation in time. 
 I must resign or perhaps give warning, is 
 the proper phrase. I go, at once." 
 
 She turns to Everet. He mechanically takes 
 the hand she is stretching to him. She now 
 ignores Braine. She loses her calm. She 
 hur.ries toward the door, drawing Everet with 
 her. 
 
 Braine follows. He is trying desperately to 
 speak. His tongue refuses to obey his will. 
 He can only utter some incoherent, inarticu 
 late sounds. But the situation is perfectly 
 clear to him. With a force that is rendering 
 him powerless and dumb, every incident in the 
 last five years is crowding upon his memory : 
 his preoccupation ; his mad struggle for power
 
 2 84 JUGGERNA UT: 
 
 and political supremacy ; his persistent re 
 quirements of this woman, who, he did not 
 know, needed love instead of position ; this 
 woman, who starved on ambition, and cried 
 for tenderness and affection ; this woman he 
 has loved better than honor for has not she 
 been uppermost in his mind when planning for 
 advancement ? She is leaving him ! She is 
 already unfaithful ! She is gathering about 
 her the wrap she has snatched from the hall- 
 stand. 
 
 Everet is mechanically helping her. She 
 opens the door. Everet s carriage is waiting 
 for him at the foot of the steps. She has for 
 gotten Braine. She grasps Everet s arm con 
 vulsively, and hurries down to the street. The 
 door of Everet s brougham closes behind them 
 and the carriage moves rapidly away. 
 
 Braine is staring into the dark. The stupe 
 fied servant touches him on the arm : 
 
 " Your breath is freezing on your mustache, 
 sir." 
 
 "Is it?" 
 
 Matters have come to a focus/ at the time 
 he appointed.
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 28; 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 HELEN sits erect in the carriage, her lips 
 pressed tightly together, her hands clasped in 
 her lap. 
 
 Everet is very pale, and still seems to be act 
 ing half-irresponsibly. He watches her face. 
 There is no change in its expression. He can 
 draw no conclusion from it. Presently he 
 touches her hand : 
 
 " Helen." 
 
 She turns her face and looks at him. There 
 is no inquiry in the expression. It is merely 
 an action indicating that she has heard 
 him. 
 
 He pauses. After a moment, he asks in a 
 low tone : 
 
 " Where do you want to go ? " 
 
 An expression of surprise flits across her face 
 for a moment. 
 
 Everet looks out of the window. After a 
 moment :
 
 2 86 JUGGERNA UT: 
 
 " Where ? To your rooms." 
 
 " You are acting under a great strain and ex 
 citement now, Helen. Would it not be bet 
 ter to wait a little, until you can think more 
 calmly ? Suppose I take you to the Arlington, 
 and you remain there to-night. In the morn 
 ing, whatever decision you have reached shall 
 be carried out. Would not that be better, 
 dear? " 
 
 " You do not want me to go with you ?" 
 
 She speaks monotonously. He does not re 
 ply. She repeats it : 
 
 " You do not want me to go with you ? " 
 
 Everet slips his arm about her. There is 
 something pitiful about this woman sitting by 
 him so white, and speaking in so hard a 
 tone. 
 
 " Yes, yes, I want you. I was only think 
 ing of you. I would have you do nothing you 
 will repent, that is all. I 
 
 " I am going to your rooms. I have de 
 cided." 
 
 Still the same expressionless voice. 
 
 Everet lowers the window, and calls to the 
 coachman : 
 
 " Go home." 
 
 He then puts the window up again, and re 
 sumes his erect attitude and the study of the 
 face of the woman beside him. He feels as
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 2 87 
 
 though he were acting in his sleep. All has 
 occurred so quickly. 
 
 Helen s face seems to have changed in the 
 last hour. The expression that has seemed to 
 him one of innocence and helplessness, is im 
 pressing him now as one of determination and 
 perhaps calculation. He is suddenly recalling 
 many details of their acquaintance which coin 
 cide with this new impression she is producing 
 but she is a beautiful woman. Nothing can 
 change that fact. 
 
 They do not speak again until they have 
 reached Everet s rooms. 
 
 Everet opens the door with his latch-key, 
 and Helen passes in as he holds the door open 
 for her. She stands quite still in the centre of 
 the room, abstractedly. 
 
 Everet turns the gas higher and stirs the 
 fire in the grate. He goes about the rooms 
 apparently taking no direct notice of her, for a 
 moment, feeling a certain humiliation for her 
 and himself in the situation. 
 
 She still stands with her wraps on, and 
 finally Everet comes to her. He takes her 
 hands in his. He says gently : 
 
 " Helen, you do not regret ? " 
 
 She lifts her eyes and looks at him inquiringly: 
 
 " Regret ? Why should I regret ? I have 
 your love ? "
 
 288 JUGGERNA UT: 
 
 Everet catches his lip between his teeth. 
 He replies hoarsely: 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Then why should I regret ? " 
 
 She unfastens her cloak, and it slips to the 
 floor, leaving her in evening dress, with white 
 bare neck and arms. There is a difference in 
 the atmosphere. Her own house is a degree 
 warmer than Everet s rooms. 
 
 He notices the tremor that seizes her, and 
 throws her fur cape about her shoulders. He 
 takes her hand and leads her to a chair by the 
 fire. He places her gently in it, and stands 
 by the side of her. After a moment he 
 says : 
 
 " I want to think for you, dear, if you will 
 let me. Whatever I say, remember it is for 
 your own good, because I I love you. You 
 have become so unhappy that you are not 
 responsible just now for your actions. I want 
 to put things before you plainly. You are 
 here, in my rooms to-night but you can return 
 home and no one will be the wiser. You are a 
 woman prominent in society. Your husband s 
 name is famous throughout the country. No 
 breath of calumny has ever touched you. If 
 you remain with me, it will be known from 
 here to San Francisco within forty-eight hours. 
 Then, regrets will be useless. You will have
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 289 
 
 lost everything forever but my love ; home, 
 position, fortune, everything that is essential to 
 the happiness of such a woman as you. You 
 can return to-night, no one 
 
 " Every one knows," in a hard tone " my 
 servant witnessed all every one knows." 
 
 Everet is silent a moment. Then he speaks 
 slowly : 
 
 " Well, if that be true, at least you have 
 nothing to reproach yourself for, yet. Though 
 they know, you will have the knowledge that 
 you are an honorable woman if you return at 
 once 
 
 She stops him with a gesture : 
 
 "What is that to me? The world will not 
 know it. What I have done is irrevocable, 
 I tell you. I have been in your rooms for 
 fifteen minutes, and three people beside our 
 selves know it, your servant, and mine, and 
 my husband. It is possible that I might have 
 done differently if I had been a little more 
 deliberate, I think not, but it is possible. 
 However, I was not more deliberate and 
 there is nothing to be done. When a woman 
 scorns conventionalities as I do, all is over." 
 
 She speaks proudly. She is in earnest. 
 
 Everet feels a sudden tenderness and com 
 passion for this strange woman who speaks 
 with such conviction of her scorn for conven-
 
 2QO JUGGERN A UT: 
 
 tionalitics when her respect and reverence for 
 them is what is about to ruin her and deprive 
 her of all peace. 
 
 The mere thought that she has stepped 
 aside never so little from the beaten path has 
 paralyzed her capacity of reasoning, and she 
 will wander about in the wood forever, having 
 lost the power to find her way back. 
 
 He has done what he could. Now he 
 stands staring at the fire. After a moment he 
 feels a soft hand on his. Helen is looking at 
 him with appealing eyes. She murmurs like 
 a grieved little child : 
 
 "I have nothing but you now. If you do 
 not fail me, I shall not miss the rest." 
 
 He stoops and clasps her in his arms.
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 29 1 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 BRAINE rings his bell and sends the envel 
 ope he has been addressing. Woolet "answers 
 the bell and takes the note. Braine says 
 laconically : 
 
 " Send by messenger." 
 
 Woolet leaves the room his master s man 
 ner is oppressive. The silence of the house is 
 oppressive. Ruin and catastrophe seem to 
 pervade the atmosphere. The sombre look 
 ing clock on the mantel strikes solemnly. 
 
 Helen s dog sits dejectedly by the fire, now 
 and then going to Braine and poking its nose 
 into his hand. Braine watches it mechani 
 cally. He has not left his seat since last night 
 at ten o clock. The room looks neglected, 
 as all rooms look if not lived in for twenty- 
 four hours. 
 
 He has sat silently in his chair during all 
 these hours, with his arms on the desk before 
 him, and his head on his arms. Now he looks
 
 2Q2 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 calmly about the room. On a chair is Helen s 
 scarf. He rises and going over to it picks it 
 up. It breathes the perfume peculiar to the 
 woman. He folds it in his hands and carries 
 it about the room as he moves aimlessly here 
 and there. Her handkerchief is under a chair. 
 He takes that up and carries it about with 
 the scarf. Helen s dog follows at his heels. 
 
 Braine s face is ghastly. There are great 
 rings under his eyes, and furrows in his cheeks 
 that were not there last night. He pauses 
 in the middle of the floor. A scene of long 
 ago comes vividly to him. A little dingy 
 office, in a far off Western town ; an " edito 
 rial sanctum ; " a little half rusty, half white 
 washed stove set in its box of sand ; grimy 
 walls ; a man at a rickety desk with improvised 
 pigeon-holes of collar boxes. Not a very in 
 spiring picture ? Well, no, but he would give 
 his house with its art treasures, his fame, his 
 wealth, for that little dingy office, with its 
 obscurity and Helen. Helen, with the sunny 
 eyes. Helen, with the hair where you sought 
 for missing sunbeams ; Helen s heart, that 
 sought for nothing because it was satisfied 
 with what it had found. Helen, the lost 
 Helen! 
 
 He goes to the desk and looks among some 
 old papers. He shades his eyes with his
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 293 
 
 hand though the light is not strong. He 
 pulls out a long-folded newspaper clipping 
 that reads : 
 
 " There died in this town to-day, a young 
 man much esteemed by his fellow-citizens," 
 etc., and as he finishes and lays it by, some 
 thing near him mutters, "Juggernaut !" 
 
 He sits staring into the dead fire no one 
 has dared intrude upon him to replenish it. 
 
 After a time there is a knock on the door. 
 Braine calls: " Come in." 
 
 He does not move. Everet comes to the 
 fireplace and stands silently waiting till he 
 shall speak. 
 
 Braine looks at him and rising, says slowly : 
 
 " Good evening Everet. You will be 
 seated? " 
 
 The poor voice trembles in its effort at 
 courtesy and usualness. Everet sits. He 
 says, after a moment : 
 
 "You wanted me, Braine?" 
 
 His tone is kind, and trembles a little too. 
 This handsome, dignified statesman is a sor 
 rowful sight to see. 
 
 " Yes. It was kind of you to come," with 
 his eyes fixed on the black grate. 
 
 Everet glances at the little crumpled bunch 
 held so tightly in the man s hands. 
 
 Braine seems to recover himself with an effort,
 
 294 fUGGERNA UT: 
 
 and tries to speak formally ; this is more 
 pitiful than before. He says evenly, as though 
 repeating a lesson : 
 
 " I thought perhaps you would come. I 
 felt that it was better to see you first I 
 thought I thought 
 
 He pauses and looks helplessly at Everet. 
 Evidently he cannot keep the thread of his 
 ideas. 
 
 Everet says quietly : 
 
 " You thought I could tell you about 
 Helen your wife ? Perhaps advise you ? " 
 
 Braine nods. 
 
 "That is a strange thing to expect of me, 
 under the circumstances." 
 
 "Yes, I know," in an apathetic tone; "I 
 know but these are not ordinary circum 
 stances. You you were not to blame 
 
 Everet suddenly stretches out his hand. 
 There is an eagerness in his tone. He says : 
 
 " Thank you for that, Braine. I I 
 He pauses. 
 
 Braine continues : 
 
 " No, you were not to blame nor she 
 Oh, Everet ! " rising and speaking excitedly, 
 " she was not to blame. You do not know. 
 She is as good as the angels. The crime is 
 mine. Though she sank to the gutter, mine 
 would be the responsibility, not her s. Six
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 295 
 
 months ago she was as true in thought and 
 deed as a child. I forced her to this. I I 
 I " 
 
 He lays his head on the mantel, and sobs 
 shake him from head to foot. No one cares to 
 see a strong man weep. Everet walks to the 
 window and stands, doing something with his 
 handkerchief. 
 
 Braine becomes quiet. Everet crosses to 
 him, and lays his hand on his shoulder. 
 
 " Braine," he speaks in a deep, earnest 
 voice, " God only knows how I have suffered 
 in twenty-four hours. My suffering has been 
 small compared with yours, but it has been 
 enough. There is nothing to explain. All is 
 as clear to me as the day. You think I should 
 feel contempt for you? I cannot feel that, 
 though your crime has been against me too, 
 and you will never know how great it was until 
 you know how I believed in and revered the 
 woman who wrought for you. I feel nothing 
 but the deepest pity for you. Since the first 
 time I heard your name in connection with 
 the great schemes of the West, I have rever 
 enced your ability, though not always the 
 account you turned it to as in this dicker 
 with the whiskey ring. But that you are a 
 great man and a great statesman not politi 
 cian, statesman your bitterest enemies must
 
 296 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 admit. I am an ambitious man. I cannot 
 say, nor prove even to myself that I would 
 not have done as you have done, had I had 
 the power, the ability. I think now that I 
 would not but perhaps that is because I know 
 that I cannot. If you have done dishonorable 
 things, you have also done great things. If 
 you have toiled for yourself, you have also 
 toiled for others. You have been a power for 
 good. Last night I pleaded with your wife, 
 Helen, to return here. She refused. I im 
 plored her to go to a hotel until the day came, 
 and she could think more collectedly. She 
 said : Do you mean that you do not want 
 me? I took this woman to my home. She 
 was weak, sorrowful, undone. I am a man 
 I have loved her nay, I do love her you 
 could not expect me to do differently. To 
 day, at the risk of wounding her, I proposed 
 that she let me make some other arrangement 
 for her. She would not listen. Her will must 
 be mine. I am ready to give you any satisfac 
 tion you demand." 
 
 Braine makes a gesture of his hand. He 
 says hoarsely : 
 
 " I have committed crimes enough. There 
 could be no satisfaction for me except to 
 kill you and He looks in Everet s 
 face and finishes " I should be taking
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 297 
 
 the life of one of the few men I can re 
 spect." 
 
 Everet takes his hand, and these two men, 
 strangely enough, make a silent compact of 
 brotherhood, never to be broken and one of 
 them has taken the other s wife. But strange 
 things happen in this complex world of ours. 
 
 Everet says in a gratified voice : 
 
 " I am forever in your debt for the weight 
 you take from my heart. All night, all day 
 the expression of your face last night has fol 
 lowed me. I have had no happiness for think 
 ing of your grief." 
 
 Braine is now and then shaken by a nervous 
 thrill. He says : 
 
 "May I go to her?" 
 
 Everet looks at him fora moment, then says 
 slowly : 
 
 " It would do no good, Braine. She is ob 
 durate. She will never return to you, and I 
 could not receive you unless she wished it. 
 You understand me, do you not ? She is now 
 under my roof and my protection. I must re 
 spect her wishes. I must protect her even 
 against her husband, if she commands until 
 her husband take measures to punish me. 
 You understand, do you not?" 
 
 Braine looks a little dazed. 
 
 "Yes, I understand."
 
 298 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 He speaks so hopelessly that Everet s face 
 contracts with sympathy and pain. He pro 
 poses : 
 
 " You might write to her, Braine. I could 
 not take it, you know. But I will be there 
 when she receives it. I will prevail upon her 
 to read it, should she refuse." 
 
 Every word that is spoken only in kindness 
 and from the heart, cuts Braine like a knife. 
 He feels no jealousy, that this grave friend has 
 an influence over his wife which he no longer 
 possesses, but the thought hurts terribly. 
 
 He grasps eagerly at the suggestion. 
 
 Everet says as Braine begins to write : 
 
 " I will go now, Braine. Send the note at 
 once by the messenger and 
 
 He hesitates. Braine looks wistfully at him. 
 
 Everet comes close to him. He says, in a 
 solemn, impressive tone : 
 
 " From this hour, your wife s honor shall be 
 as sacred to me as it is to you. I will protect 
 her, even against myself, though she remain in 
 my house. And I do this not for her, but 
 for you." 
 
 He leaves the room before Braine can speak. 
 
 Braine says under his breath : " This is more 
 than I deserve." 
 
 He writes : 
 
 " Helen : " then sits staring at the word.
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 299 
 
 " I dare not come to you until you send for 
 me. I throw myself at your feet, and implore 
 you to forgive me. So miserable a man as I 
 does not live. Helen, child, wife of my heart, 
 who has known the good of my life as well as 
 the bad, come back to me. My life from this 
 hour shall attest my love for you, my sorrow 
 and repentance. Helen, by the memories of 
 those first years, when we lived but one for 
 the other, I implore you. We will go away 
 together. I forswear this life forever. I 
 have wealth. My last penny shall be used for 
 your happiness. The world is all before us. 
 Command, and your least wish shall be ful 
 filled. My sin is great, my punishment is 
 more than I can bear. Come back, sweet wife, 
 and help me by your presence, your word of 
 approval, to right my terrible wrong if I can. 
 Oh, Helen, the memory of those days filled 
 with your love and goodness crowd upon me, 
 making my despair more hopeless ; making my 
 loneliness grimmer. That which you have 
 longed for shall be yours. No more of this 
 hurry and striving! No more of this frenzied 
 living ! Come back, Helen, wife, come back 
 
 The pen slips from his fingers. The paper 
 is all blotted with his tears. He rings the 
 bell, and hands the message through the door. 
 It is gone. And now he waits.
 
 300 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 He goes to the seat by the dead fire. He 
 waits with Helen s neglected things in his 
 hands with Helen s dog at his feet. 
 
 An hour goes by, and still he waits a little 
 longer, and a note is handed through the door. 
 
 His note unopened.
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 30! 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 " THEN you refuse to accept it?" Everet is 
 speaking. 
 
 "Yes. I refuse." Helen speaks decisively 
 and walks away to the window. 
 
 " Helen." 
 
 Everet comes close to her. He speaks hesi 
 tatingly. 
 
 "You know that I am your true friend, 
 that when I urge this upon you it is through 
 no lack of desire on my part to supply you with 
 all your heart could wish. You know that 
 when I urged you to return to Braine, I thought 
 of your happiness. You know this. As long 
 as you are satisfied, this house and everything 
 in it is yours, and all your wishes shall be ful 
 filled so far as I am able to do it ; but I feel 
 that there is a day coming when you will not 
 be satisfied, living in this way ; and then in 
 money will be your only hope. I must speak 
 plainly, dear. It is for this reason that I en-
 
 302 JUGGERNA UT: 
 
 treat you to accept this provision which Braine 
 offers. All that I have is at your disposal, but 
 I have little in comparison with the wealth 
 Braine wishes to place in your hands." 
 
 She turns and looks at him. She says 
 slowly : 
 
 " I do not want your wealth, or his. I want 
 what you will not give me love. Wealth 
 will not take its place. If you cannot give me 
 that, there is but one thing that can in any de 
 gree make it up to me power. One or the 
 other I must have. One or the other must 
 help me to forget my ruined life the life that 
 he has ruined, and now thinks to pay for with 
 money." 
 
 " You are wrong. He has sinned, but if 
 ever a human being suffered and has tried to 
 rectify his mistakes, he is the one. He has 
 implored you to return. You have refused all 
 overtures. You have returned his letters 
 unopened. You have been unwilling to lis 
 ten 
 
 "Listen? You talk like a child. This man 
 has done me the greatest wrong that a woman 
 ever suffered. These last two months with 
 him have been one great insult, one monstrous 
 indignity and affront. Listen? It is too late. 
 Once I begged him to listen to me. I humili 
 ated myself before him, begging for one little
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 303 
 
 expression of love the next morning he 
 mocked me. It is too late." 
 
 And Everet knows that she speaks the 
 truth. 
 
 He says sorrowfully : 
 
 "Very well. You cannot return to him? 
 Then be merciful, let him make the little rep 
 aration in his power. Accept this money from 
 him." 
 
 She shakes her head : 
 
 " Never ! " 
 
 Then, with a burst of emotion, " Why do you 
 torment me in this way? Once you would 
 have given half your life for my favor ; now you 
 are as unresponsive as a block of wood." 
 
 Everet s face grows troubled : 
 
 " Not so," he says ; " don t accuse me of 
 this, Helen. Don t call me unresponsive. You 
 are very dear to me but I may not have you 
 for my wife, and I cannot accept you in another 
 relation. I cannot do that. My position has 
 been a terrible one. I don t think you can 
 understand 
 
 " His crime was directed toward you 
 
 " And do you not see that this compels me 
 to be generous ? I cannot do that thing. This 
 man has discovered his wrong and is repentant. 
 I should be a dog if I refused to recognize the 
 fact. He has converted everything he pos-
 
 304 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 sesses in the world into money, and begs you to 
 accept it. He leaves his home, and takes him 
 self away from his fellows to live this man 
 who has swayed thousands with his eloquence, 
 who has commanded the homage of all the 
 country, who has held the affairs of the nation 
 in his hands. This man has humbled himself, 
 has forsworn it all, has buried his strength and 
 his greatness and his talents in a little forsaken 
 wilderness. God ! I am an honor-loving man ; 
 I despise his crime, and my own ; and yet, I 
 doubt if I should be great enough for this. 
 After all, he was guilty of nothing but what his 
 associates are guilty of every day of their lives, 
 and will continue in uninterruptedly and with 
 less excuse ; the difference that one has met 
 with retribution and the others have not. To 
 day I have more respect and reverence for this 
 man who has been overtaken and repents, than 
 for Grayson who has braved it through and is 
 about to step into his place 
 
 " He would not be repenting in sackcloth 
 and ashes if he had not been overtaken." 
 
 There is a touch of wormwood in her 
 voice. 
 
 " Perhaps not ; but he is repenting, with an 
 humbler repentance than I believe even the 
 Lord cares to accept." 
 
 Helen s eyes gleam a little, and her lips are
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 305 
 
 firmly pressed together. Everet s defence of 
 the man who has tried to wrong him, and 
 whom she has loved, cannot convince her. 
 
 After a time Everet rises to go. He holds 
 her hands in his for a moment : 
 
 " You are decided ? " 
 
 " Decided." 
 
 Everet says good night. Helen turns wea 
 rily back into the pretty rooms. She looks 
 about, almost contemptuously. Her face is 
 not the face of the Helen of six months ago. 
 To-night it expresses weariness, hopefessness, 
 bitterness, longing. She clasps her hands a 
 little wildly. She has not found what she 
 sought. Since the night in Everet s house, he 
 has been the friend, not the lover. The old 
 life sometimes comes over her as it has to 
 night. The old sweet life, the old sweet love 
 and yet, the old love would not satisfy her 
 now, if it must be linked with the old life. 
 That is an unacknowledged reason for her 
 obduracy. Love without money ? Ye s. Love 
 without power, excitement, intrigue ? No. If 
 this has poisoned all her days, yet it is a deli 
 cious poison. 
 
 At times she is consumed with a sense of 
 the mortification and indignity of those last 
 months with Braine. She feels a bitter desire 
 for some sort of revenue. What would she
 
 306 JUGGERNA UT: 
 
 have known of longing and ambition, and 
 falsehood and madness, but for him ? 
 
 She has fallen into a morbid state. She 
 now sees no one. She is without the social 
 pale of her old acquaintance among whom she 
 ruled. The thing for which she has been in 
 training for years is denied her. That which 
 nature intended her for the life of a loving 
 woman has been made tasteless to her. Her 
 natural appetite is ruined ; her acquired taste is 
 ungratified. She thinks : 
 
 "Could I be occupied! Could I forget, a 
 little while ! " 
 
 She throws herself upon the divan with a 
 little moan. She lies so for an hour, perhaps. 
 A card is brought her she reads " Dalzcl." 
 
 She rises with a curious expression on her 
 face. She stands expectant. 
 
 An hour later as he is leaving, he says: 
 
 " Of all the women able to accomplish the 
 thing, you are the best fitted." And watching 
 him go, she thinks : 
 
 " This is the clever man who was cleverer 
 than my friend. What better incentive could 
 a woman want? "
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 307 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 "WELL, dear fellow, I m glad to be with 
 you." 
 
 Braine turns to him with the grave, sad 
 smile that is now the only smile his face 
 knows. He walks slowly. There is none of 
 the energy and spring in his step that belonged 
 to Braine the statesman. The face is still 
 handsome it will always be that. No expres 
 sion can entirely change his features, but it is 
 a sombre face. His figure stoops a little. 
 Mental burdens are apt to bow the shoulders 
 far more quickly than physical ones. 
 
 Braine has grayed at the temples ; it will be 
 but a little time before the brown of his hair 
 will have disappeared. 
 
 Everet has got off the train just now, at the 
 tumble-down little station, and as he and Braine 
 walk leisurely down the country road, he cov 
 ertly notes every detail of his friend s appear 
 ance.
 
 308 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 There is still a dignity in Braine s figure and 
 movement. No stoop, no length of time can 
 deform that, any more than it can change the 
 attraction of his face. These things were not 
 the ornamentations but the substance of the 
 man. All thought of dishonor in this man 
 was acquired and it was a hard thing to learn. 
 Honesty and uprightness of mind were innate. 
 It is his natural self that has remained by him 
 in the crisis. 
 
 With the woman, things were different. 
 
 The two men stroll on through the mellow 
 glow, the setting sun lending its fiery touch to 
 the hedge-rows, turning the gray of the road 
 to a more cheerful yellow. A bob-white calls 
 from the wood on the left ; a wood-pecker is 
 warily at work in an apple-tree in the orchard 
 on the right. Sweet evening odors, evening 
 sounds, evening winds, surround the men like 
 a benediction. 
 
 Braine stops once in the road and looks off 
 over a yellow field a field of grain half cut. 
 A man still works there among the sweet- 
 smelling sheaves. A comely woman has just 
 passed through the bars beyond, and is cross 
 ing to the man who works. There is a leis 
 urely vigor in his movements that only strong 
 men know at resting time. He sees the 
 woman and stands erect, awaiting her, his
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 309 
 
 rugged, positive form outlined against the 
 flushing sky, that seems to terminate the 
 whole earth in the field behind him. He does 
 not meet her. She comes to him. If there is 
 anything save the rabbits in the grain to see, the 
 man and woman do not know. The man must 
 be a poet for he does not kiss her lips. The 
 man who binds the sheaves instinctively knows 
 that passion and the hour are incongruous. He 
 takes her face between his hands and looks 
 into her eyes, and as the sun with one last 
 peep sinks below the hill into nothing, he 
 lends to the two the brightest ray left him, 
 and they stand in a rosy sea for a little minute 
 these two ! And the day is done. 
 
 Braine stands with shaded eyes. The strong 
 hand, slightly browned, trembles a little. As 
 they walk on, he breaks the stillness gently : 
 
 " I could be happy here." There is a wist- 
 fulness in his voice. 
 
 Everet touches the hand at his side. There 
 is the peculiar gentleness in the touch that 
 some men have. The two go on, hand in 
 hand. The greatness of friendship lies in its 
 simplicity. Neither speaks again until they 
 turn into a worn foot-path at the right, and 
 follow it to a small white house beyond. 
 
 Braine lives here. A little house set in a 
 patch of orchard, a flower-bed here near the
 
 3 I O JUGGEKNA UT: 
 
 door an old-fashioned bed where sweet-wil 
 liam reigns supreme that shows the conscien 
 tious care of some one who loves something. 
 On the step, Helen s dog. Very little things? 
 Yes. Magnificent in their commonplaceness. 
 These things that are the care and com 
 panions of a great mind a lonely man, who 
 has controlled by his intellect the thought and 
 act of millions, directly or indirectly! Who 
 would not be a flower or a dog ? 
 
 With old time courtesy Braine enters and 
 stands in the narrow little doorway to welcome 
 Everet. He makes no apology. He sees 
 nothing to demand it, though the cane chairs 
 are not the poems in upholstery that are in 
 Everet s rooms ; though the bench at the side 
 serves in place of luxurious divans. There are 
 no carpets on the floor, but the shining white 
 ness of the boards is seductive. 
 
 There is a desk in one corner there is some 
 thing familiar in its look. It has collar boxes 
 for pigeon-holes. It has an atmosphere of 
 industry about it. Evidently the lonely man 
 is not an idle man. 
 
 Braine says to the clean boy in the next 
 room : 
 
 " We will have some supper now I do not 
 dine any more," with a smile and a nod at 
 Everet.
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 3 I I 
 
 Everct makes no remark. The scene is 
 impressing him strangely. The odors of the 
 orchard waft through the door ; a cricket 
 under the window keeps up a drowsy tune. 
 
 The two men sit side by side on the door-step 
 while their supper is made ready for them. 
 Neither says very much. 
 
 " Are you not lonely here, dear fellow? " 
 
 Braine looks up, and he ceases to stroke 
 Helen s dog. He replies gently : 
 
 "Yes, I am often lonely." 
 
 "Do you have nothing to occupy your days?" 
 
 " Oh, yes. The days are not bad." He 
 nods in the direction of the desk ; pats Helen s 
 dog ; glances at his flowers. 
 
 " And the nights?" 
 
 Braine smiles and does not reply. There 
 are tears that cause heart-ache, but there are 
 smiles that cause heart-break. 
 
 After a time they go in to supper. It is a 
 frugal one suggesting how adequate the food 
 of the mind may be. 
 
 There is wine for Everet who keeps his 
 friend company, however, in drinking water. 
 
 After a time they sit together in the 
 twilight. There has been a long silence be 
 tween them. Presently Everet says : 
 
 " Do you want to hear? " 
 
 Braine nods.
 
 3 1 2 JUG GERNA UT : 
 
 " She does not live in the house where I es 
 tablished her. She is independent of my care. 
 She no longer comes to me for sympathy. 
 She no longer needs me as a friend. She is 
 rich, powerful, beautiful, cold, commanding. 
 She has a salon. The brilliant men of the coun 
 try may be found there, a few of the women. 
 She rules the statesman, the poet, the pagan, 
 the minister all but the Christian and the con 
 ventional. If her life is not irreproachably 
 virtuous, now, no one suggests the doubt, be 
 cause whenever they decide to acknowledge 
 the truth they may no longer visit her. Con 
 ventional women know her. They never ac 
 knowledge her. They never repudiate her ; 
 they never mention her ; they are afraid of her. 
 Their husbands interests are too often in her 
 hands, sometimes their own or their lovers . 
 She rules, she reigns. She lifts her finger and 
 great men obey, and shs lifts it only for those 
 who pay. She has two sources of income her 
 wits and a lover. She acknowledges the wits 
 and not the lover; consequently her satellites 
 do the same. How long this state of things will 
 continue, depends on the wits and the lover." 
 
 He ceases to speak. He looks at Braine. 
 His sombre face is gray. Everet says : 
 
 " Do you know why I am telling you this ? 
 Because I am going to drag you from this
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 3 I 3 
 
 place where you have buried your greatness 
 and your talents. I am going to show you 
 that this woman you mourn is not worth it, 
 that" 
 
 Braine raises his hand : 
 
 " Don t say that." There is firmness and 
 meaning in the tone. " Perhaps this woman is 
 not worth it but Helen is. I have not buried 
 my talents. I am not an idle man. I am 
 trying to accomplish something that will in 
 some degree indemnify those I have wronged. 
 I do not mourn for the woman alone, but for 
 my sin. My sin was in making my Helen the 
 woman you tell me of. She has no sins to 
 answer for. / am responsible. Some day 
 she will come back to me 
 
 He speaks dreamily, looking into the purple 
 dusk, 
 
 " Some day she will come back, and I will 
 take her in my arms and have my wife, my 
 Helen, Helen of the old good days again. 
 She shall not live so " looking, about the lit 
 tle room. " All my wealth is being saved for 
 her. She shall not live like this, but amid the 
 surroundings that Helen loves, and with me. 
 She will be so grateful for the rest and peace, 
 after the strife and hurry. We may both be 
 old," wistfully. " I am old now ; but it will 
 happen she will come back."
 
 3 1 4 JUGGERNA UT: 
 
 He stops and seems to continue the thread 
 of his thought to himself. 
 
 Everet says nothing. His face is turned the 
 other way though the dusk would hide its 
 expression. After a time the two men say 
 good night.
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 315 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 IT is another summer evening, like that of 
 four years ago, and Everet is again with Braine 
 at the little cottage. He is impressed less with 
 the sorrow than with the rugged strength of 
 the man who rises from his flower-bed to greet 
 him. 
 
 " Work is good for you," he says, scanning 
 the face of his friend ; " and the work is good, 
 too. I did not believe it possible that the man 
 of action, relinquishing action as you have done, 
 could become a power as the man of thought. 
 But you have wrought that miracle." 
 
 " The work is effective, then ? " 
 
 " More. It is inspiring. Your printed 
 words do not draw men to you as your elo 
 quence did, and you take no personal part in 
 directing human endeavor, but you are influenc 
 ing others to action as you never did before, 
 and instead of one great Edgar Braine, filling 
 the eye of the public, we have thousands in-
 
 3 1 6 JUGGERNA UT : 
 
 spired by him to do his work for the better 
 ment of the land and the time. My friend, I 
 once tried to draw you from the solitude in 
 which you were wasting yourself, as I sup 
 posed ; I have no wish now to draw you from 
 a seclusion in which you are doing a nobler 
 work than in your most active days." 
 
 "Thank you, Everet and thank God! I 
 have atonement to make, you know, and it 
 is encouraging to know that I am making 
 it." 
 
 And so the two talk on of public matters, 
 with no further reference to the more sensitive 
 matters of personal feeling, until the clean boy 
 has served the supper, and they have finished 
 it. Then, as they sit together in the open air, 
 Braine says : 
 
 " And now, Everet ? " 
 
 Everet understands, and takes a preparatory 
 long breath. He begins: 
 
 " I told you I had come from New York 
 instead of Washington ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Well, she is there." 
 
 " Yes ? " as Everet pauses. 
 
 " Yes. She could not remain in Washington 
 any longer. She has been in New York for 
 six months now." 
 
 " What is she doing? "
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 317 
 
 Everet does not reply for a moment ; then 
 he continues : 
 
 " The last year she was there was a disas 
 trous one for her. The old set were enraged 
 by certain of her desperate exploits in finance, 
 and she did not get on with the new. It 
 was impossible for her to remain there any 
 longer, so she sought a new field in New 
 York." 
 
 He is reluctant to say more, and pauses 
 again. 
 
 " Well ? " Braine speaks obstinately. " Go 
 on." 
 
 " She went to New York and began living 
 on a large scale she still lives on a large scale 
 but Helen is a fine-grained woman to her 
 finger tips, no matter what she has done. The 
 Washington politician is bad enough, but the 
 New York politician is a good deal worse to 
 a woman. When Helen sinks to the street 
 commissioner and the sheriff, she is to be 
 pitied. And it will come to that. Now that she 
 has left the field that she was so long mistress 
 of, she will not be able to reach the superior 
 villains no: that is hard on them. I ll call 
 them men we re all men." 
 
 He looks meditatively into the darkness. 
 
 " No, Helen cannot carry on transactions 
 with her kind any more, and she must use
 
 318 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 these others." Then, continuing grimly, "How 
 she will bring herself to assimilate with 
 
 " Everet you you are speaking of Helen." 
 
 There is no anger in the tone. It is a tone 
 rather of tenderness and surprise. 
 
 Everet bites his lip, and says : 
 
 " Forgive me, Braine. I forgot it." 
 
 After a time, Braine asks : 
 
 " Do you think it would be of any use to go 
 to her, Everet ! I would tell her that I lovecl 
 her just the same, you know, and want her 
 back ; or do you think I had better wait 
 awhile, until she is ready to return of her 
 self?" 
 
 He speaks with the old, wistful intonation. 
 
 Everet replies earnestly : 
 
 " No, Braine. It is better for you to wait. 
 It would do no good for you to go. There is 
 no use in your putting yourself in the way of 
 affront " 
 
 "I should not mind that," quickly. 
 
 " No not if it would do any good. But it 
 would be useless. I know what I say, Braine. 
 I I have seen her. She would not return 
 she would not see you." 
 
 Braine sighs heavily. 
 
 After a time, he leaves Everet to smoke a 
 last cigar, and goes to his work at his desk, 
 from which he does not rise till morning .
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 319 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 A YEAR later. 
 
 " How do you feel to-day ? " 
 
 " The same." 
 
 Helen keeps her eyes fixed on the handle of 
 the cracked wash-pitcher. 
 
 The physician looks at her curiously for a 
 moment. After a little he says : 
 
 " Have you no friends?" 
 
 " None ; " without ceasing to study the 
 cracked pitcher. As usual, the woman leaves 
 no chance for further questions. 
 
 As he rises to go, the physician says gravely : 
 
 " I think if you could force yourself to 
 arouse, you could throw off this this disease 
 that is sapping your vitality. It is more a 
 disease of the mind, I think, than the body." 
 
 " Doubtless." 
 
 The physician says : 
 
 " Well, good-day," lingering a moment 
 longer.
 
 320 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 " Good-day," from the bed. 
 
 He has attended this woman, who is on his 
 charity list, for two months, and he has never 
 heard her utter more than one sentence at a 
 time and seldom a sentence of more than one 
 word. She has looked in his face once. He 
 will never forget that look. Since then, she 
 has studied the wall, or the broken window, or 
 some other object. He may speak for five 
 minutes at a time, and she makes no sign that 
 she hears him unless he asks a question. 
 
 He cannot decide what is the matter with 
 her. She lies here day after day, apparently 
 unattended indeed he is not certain but that 
 she is starving, though she has said, "Nothing," 
 when he has inquired if there was anything 
 that she needed, anything he could do for her. 
 
 He has made inquiries of the, Irish woman 
 below, of the Dutchman across the hall, and 
 the Italian above, but he only hears below that 
 she s " wan av yer foine ladies," and across the 
 hall and above he has heard no matter what. 
 
 He has discovered that the daughter of the 
 old-iron man in the cellar goes in once a da}-, 
 and is paid ten cents for it or used to be; 
 now she goes for sweet charity. He can learn 
 no more. He calls only occasionally no\v. 
 He can do nothing for her. He does not 
 know what is the matter with her.
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 321 
 
 As she lies here alone after he has gone, 
 she clasps her thin hands, with a weak move 
 ment, and gives a little moan indicative of 
 weakness, of pain, of sorrow perhaps perhaps 
 all three. After a time she says aloud : 
 
 " He is to blame for it all." 
 
 The old gleam is in her eyes. The old 
 relentless expression in her tone. 
 
 She turns her face to the grimy Avail, with a 
 smothered groan. She lies with her eyes shut, 
 while the dusk closes in. The night-sounds 
 in the street reach her through the open win 
 dow. The room is hot and stuffy; the odors 
 are intolerable. They are intolerable in their 
 suggestions. It is not the subtle perfume that 
 arouses an emotion but what the perfume 
 suggests; it is not the fume that disgusts but 
 what it suggests. These fumes suggest a Chinese 
 restaurant, an unclean bedroom, a garbage bar 
 rel, a swill cart, and the stale memory of bad 
 tobacco. All this is tinctured with the Dutch 
 man s cheese over the way. 
 
 A child is bawling in the street. The Ital 
 ian above is beating his monkey; a coal- 
 heaver is cursing his wife, and has just thrown 
 a bottle at his brat, which accounts for one 
 less sound, for one more silence suddenly 
 occurring. And Helen lies on a bed assorting 
 these sounds and smells. Helen ! Patrician
 
 322 JUGGERNA UT: 
 
 Helen ! Helen of dainty habit ! Fastidious 
 Helen ! Braine s wife ! Braine s Helen ! 
 
 " D ye want anythin ? " The old-iron 
 man s daughter thrusts her kindly, dirty face 
 inside the door. 
 
 " Nothing."
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 323 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 EVERET and Braine are walking down the 
 road from the station. Everet is talking earn 
 estly. Braine is listening eagerly. Disap 
 pointment is written on his face. 
 
 " You have found no clew ? " 
 
 " None." Everet speaks hopelessly. 
 
 " Don t speak in that tone. A woman like 
 Helen cannot drop out of existence without 
 leaving some trace. What was the last you 
 discovered ?" 
 
 " I found a place where she had lived a 
 comfortable flat. She had lived there 
 He hesitates. 
 
 Braine says quietly: 
 
 " Say it." 
 
 " With a man called McPhelan you know 
 who he is, I presume." 
 
 "Good God!" 
 
 Braine stops in the road and looks helplessly 
 into Everet s face. He moans : 
 
 " Don t say that, Everet ! Don t say that !
 
 324 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 Not Helen ! It was not she. It was some 
 other." 
 
 " And after all, dear Brame, what is the 
 difference ? A Sixth Ward politician, or a 
 member of the cabinet." 
 
 He has thrown his arm across Braine s 
 shoulders. His tone is one of tenderest sym 
 pathy, but there is a certain sternness in it. 
 
 Braine s strong body trembles like a weak 
 child s. He says, hoarsely : 
 
 " I must go and find her. I must, Everet." 
 
 " No, no. No one could do more than I 
 can in such a matter. I will look until I find 
 her, or know that she is dead. I will obey 
 your least direction, your slightest wish in 
 this, but grant what I ask of you. Don t go 
 to find her. Think, Braine! Think what it 
 would be to learn such things from strangers ; 
 think what it would be to learn the details of so 
 pitiful a life from those who cared nothing for 
 your grief. It is right you should know them 
 but hear them from me. I love you. I loved 
 Helen the Helen you have known. You 
 surely can bear these things better from me." 
 
 " Yes, yes. God bless you, Everet. You re 
 the truest friend a man ever had. But promise 
 me, promise me you will leave no stone un 
 turned ? " 
 
 " I promise."
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 325 
 
 XL. 
 
 HELEN lies staring out of the window. 
 There is no curtain to shut out the glaring 
 sunlight, which is causing the fumes to rise 
 from the broiling humanity below. 
 
 Metropolitan poverty suggests to me 
 sounds and smells. I could endure sights. 
 What one sees, one knows. There is no 
 longer room for the imagination that is capa 
 ble of so much that is more horrible than 
 reality. But a sound ! 
 
 A woman in the room below us cries, 
 " Don t ! " She may be speaking excitedly to 
 her child or that brute, her husband, may 
 have her by the hair preparing to cut her 
 throat. 
 
 Just now, Helen hears a chair knocked over 
 in the dark hall outside her door. It does 
 not occur to her that someone has stumbled in 
 the darkness ; she thinks someone has knocked 
 someone down in the hall. There is no more
 
 326 JUG GERNA UT: 
 
 noise, and she carries on the thought still far 
 ther. She says, " One of them is being stran 
 gled, and that is why it is still." With this 
 thought, a face she has seen once in the door 
 way opposite comes to her mind ; an evil, 
 loathsome face. She at once associates it with 
 the silent murder that is being done in the 
 hall. She has not the slightest doubt that 
 this is a fact. She does not stir. She would 
 not if the evil man with the loathsome face 
 came in to strangle her. She would be per 
 fectly quiet because she would know of 
 nothing else to do. 
 
 Some one raps on her door. It is the man 
 with the loathsome face, she knows. She does 
 not speak. Her eyes are fixed in a sort of 
 fascination on the door. The knob turns ; she 
 still stares as the door opens. There is an 
 eeriness in watching a slowly opening door 
 when one knows nothing of the one who is 
 impelling it. 
 
 A man enters. It is not the man of the 
 evil face. It is Everet ; but the outward effect 
 is the same, upon her. She does not speak. 
 She watches him as he comes toward the bed. 
 He does not speak to her. He stands at 
 the bedside looking down at her. She lies 
 motionless, looking up into his face. 
 
 Slowly his eyes fill with tears. He takes
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 327 
 
 the slim, transparent hand that lies inert on 
 the grimy quilt, and bowing over it lifts it to 
 his lips. He kisses it as though it were the 
 hand of a princess. There is a reverence, a 
 homage in the act that he never showed to 
 Helen Braine in her proudest days, the hom 
 age that helplessness and misery command. 
 
 Helen makes no sign. Everet walks to the 
 window and looks down into the fiery street. 
 There is a woman, half-clothed, drunk in the 
 gutter. He turns away with a shudder. He 
 stands in the middle of the floor for a moment, 
 looking at the figure in the bed. She does not 
 speak. After a moment of indecision, he 
 hurries from the room. He sends a telegram ; 
 gets some wine and other things his judgment 
 suggests may be useful, and hurries back to 
 the room he has left. 
 
 He knocks off the neck of the bottle hav 
 ing no more convenient means of opening it. 
 He finds a cracked tea cup in a cupboard, and 
 pours a little of the wine into it. He goes to 
 Helen and raises her a little by slipping his 
 arm under her shoulders. She is as light as a 
 little child. His hand trembles as he holds the 
 cup to her lips. She drinks and lies back on 
 the pillow without speaking. 
 
 After a time she eats a little of what Everet 
 has brought. He looks about the bare room
 
 328 JUGGERNA UT: 
 
 uncertainly. He has a desire to make it more 
 habitable while she is in it. Nothing can be 
 done. He draws a chair to the bed and sits in 
 it. Taking Helen s hand he speaks for the 
 first time ; he says : 
 
 " You have been very ill ? " 
 
 She does not reply. 
 
 After a pause, he says gently : 
 
 " You do not want to talk, dear ? " 
 
 She shakes her head. Everet remains qui 
 etly by her, holding the shadowy little hand. 
 
 As evening comes, the sounds in the street 
 become less collective and more individual. 
 They seem more aggressive. 
 
 There is no candle, no lamp to light. He 
 does not go out for candles because he does 
 not want to leave her. He sits on in the dark 
 ness. Now and then when one sound comes 
 more sharply or loudly than another, the thin 
 fingers tighten over his. He holds the hand 
 
 O O 
 
 close, and murmurs : 
 
 " Poor child ! And you have endured all 
 this alone." 
 
 There is no response, and silence falls again. 
 
 After an hour they hear a step in the hall. 
 Helen knows the step. If it were not for the 
 darkness Everet would see the relentless gleam 
 that springs into her eyes. The door opens 
 and Braine hurries into the room.
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 329 
 
 He stands, bewildered at finding darkness. 
 He can only see objects dimly through the 
 gloom. Everet throws his arm around him, 
 and leads him to the bed. He leaves him 
 standing there, and hurries from the apart 
 ment. 
 
 Braine sinks on his knees beside Helen. 
 He throws his strong arms about the frail 
 figure, and lifts her to his heart. 
 
 There is not a sound, there in the darkness, 
 save the heavy, tremulous breaths drawn by 
 Braine. 
 
 He holds her so. He gives her no caress, 
 says no word of endearment. His emotions 
 have carried him beyond such forms. He 
 only holds her close to his heart, tightening his 
 arms about her from time to time, as though 
 in a sudden terror lest she be spirited from him. 
 
 That she is utterly unresponsive he does not 
 note. If he did he would not care now. He 
 has but one thought : " This is Helen, Helen, 
 Helen." 
 
 Everet finds them so when he re-enters the 
 room. He brings candles with him and lights 
 them. He first notices the expression on 
 Helen s face. It paralyzes him for the mo 
 ment ; then he looks fearfully and furtively at 
 Braine. He is oblivious of Helen s expression. 
 He knows only Helen.
 
 3 3O JUGGERNA UT: 
 
 " And now?" 
 
 Everet looks about and pauses. He forgets 
 that Helen has not spoken since he entered 
 the room in the morning. Of course he does 
 not know what has passed between the two. 
 
 Braine seems utterly helpless, and looks at 
 .Everet in reply. Everet says quietly : 
 
 " You remembered to bring things as I 
 wired you ? " 
 
 Braine nods and points to the package on 
 the chair. 
 
 Everet had asked Braine in his telegram to 
 bring something that Helen could travel in. 
 He knew that in a certain room, in a certain 
 little white house, were certain beautiful 
 belongings of Helen s ; treasured for what ? 
 Such a time as this, perhaps. 
 
 Everet unrolls the things. Braine has been 
 fortunate enough to select something suitable. 
 
 Everet says in a business-like way : 
 
 " She must leave here, at once a hotel, or 
 home?" 
 
 "Home." 
 
 " Very well ; she must be dressed, you 
 know. You had better assist her while I see 
 about a carriage in which to get her away from 
 this place." 
 
 He points to the garments, saying : 
 
 "There they are, Braine."
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 331 
 
 He is impressed with the conviction that 
 Braine does not comprehend much now. 
 
 He leaves the room. Braine goes to the bed, 
 and says, in a voice too full of tenderness, joy, 
 love, to be very comprehensible ; 
 
 " Can you be dressed now, dear?" 
 
 She looks at him without replying. He 
 thinks she has not heard, and repeats the 
 question. She does not answer. He says, 
 lovingly, with a caress : 
 
 " You shall not be annoyed, dearest. You 
 need not talk. I will help you." 
 
 She is absolutely passive. She assists her 
 self very little. She does not make any 
 instinctive motion that will help, but obeys 
 Braine s least suggestion like an automaton. 
 
 The gown is of a style worn more than five 
 years before, and hangs oddly on the atten 
 uated figure, that once filled out its graceful 
 curves. Its richness contrasts strangely with 
 the dingy room. 
 
 Is there a trace of the old Helen? Very 
 little. The beauty of her eyes will never dis 
 appear ; the grace of her least gesture will 
 remain but the hard bitterness, the desperate 
 expression is hers too. 
 
 Braine does not notice it. He only sees 
 that other trace of Helen. 
 
 She seems to be in no pain, but utterly
 
 332 JUGGERNA UT: 
 
 exhausted as he lays her back on the pillow, 
 while they wait for Everet. Her eyes never 
 wander from his face. He interprets their 
 expression by his own emotions, and smiles 
 back at her in response. There seems nothing 
 peculiar in her silence. Even he finds it an 
 effort to speak. 
 
 They hear Everet spring up the stairs. He 
 knocks and comes in, as Braine bids him. He 
 says, with a smile : 
 
 " You are ready to go ? " looking at Helen. 
 
 Braine replies: 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 Helen makes no movement to help herself. 
 Braine takes her in his arms and carries her, 
 with no resistance on her part, to the carriage 
 below. She is but a feather-weight. He 
 draws her to him so that she rests with the 
 utmost ease against his shoulder. 
 
 Everet sits opposite. He appears oblivious 
 of everything but the lamp-posts in the street, 
 but he furtively watches Helen s face. Its 
 expression is terrifying him. He is thinking 
 of the future of the friend who sits opposite. 
 He does not dare interpret this changeless 
 expression. 
 
 At the station he suggests that he remain in 
 the city. Braine grasps his hand in mute 
 appeal :
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 333 
 
 " I I feel so helpless, powerless in some 
 way, Everet." 
 
 Everet presses his hand, replying : 
 
 " Just as you wish, old fellow I was only 
 thinking of you." 
 
 And so this friend goes with them. 
 
 He enters this man s house with this man s 
 wife the wife whom five years ago he took 
 away. 
 
 On the journey, Everet is seldom near them : 
 when he is, he is bright, helpful, tender. 
 Helen has never once spoken. She helps her 
 self in no way. Braine cares for her like a 
 child. She is perfectly passive. 
 
 Her continued silence has at last forced it 
 self upon Braine s mind. Now that he stops 
 to think, he knows that he has not heard her 
 voice. He is amazed at first. He looks up at 
 her in a startled way, as the thought comes to 
 him. She is looking vacantly out of the 
 window. He asks her a question. She turns 
 her head and looks in his face. She makes 
 no reply. There is no inquiry expressed in 
 her countenance. 
 
 For the first time he realizes the expression 
 of her deep, beautiful eyes. He feels an icy 
 hand clutch at his heart. He is speechless for 
 a moment ; then he leans near her. With a 
 world of anguish and appeal in his voice, he says :
 
 3 34 JUGGERNA UT: 
 
 " Helen ! " 
 
 She does not reply ; she only looks in his 
 face. Her expression never varies ; and it is 
 no look of insanity. It is the only expression 
 Braine will ever see there, and in that instant 
 he is aware of the fact. 
 
 He turns to the window and sits staring out. 
 Once he draws a long, quivering breath, that 
 escapes again, flutteringly. In the sigh all the 
 anguish of a lifetime is expressed. 
 
 Was there a change for an instant in the 
 expression of the woman s face ? If so, it was 
 the shadow of a smile that flitted across it 
 the old, sphinx-like smile. But perhaps it was 
 not there. If so, it was only suggested. 
 
 For the rest of the journey there is silence 
 between the two men. The woman is the 
 same. 
 
 When they leave the train at the little 
 station there is a conveyance waiting to take 
 them to the cottage. Braine carries Helen as 
 he has done before. 
 
 The three drive silently down the road in 
 the twilight. The two men are thinking of a 
 scene years ago, in which the same characters 
 figured, but oh, so differently ! 
 
 As Everet glances at the silent figure 
 through the dusk, he feels his whole body 
 shaken by some powerful emotion. That
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 335 
 
 woman, ominously still, with white face, 
 deeply brooding, relentless eyes, haggard, 
 shadowy and worn, is the woman he once ad 
 mired as the most perfect type of what 
 womanhood was meant by God to be ; now 
 she is what sin alone can make a woman, and 
 he remembers with exquisite remorse that the 
 sin which wrought this ruin was in part his. 
 
 The two men are thinking of that lost time. 
 The woman who can guess what the woman 
 is thinking? 
 
 They drive through the lane to the house. 
 Apparently neither scene nor time, nor cir 
 cumstance is impressing her. She looks off 
 over the purple hills into nothingness. 
 
 Braine lifts her out and carries her within 
 the cottage, placing her gently in a chair. 
 He says eagerly, while unfastening her wraps: 
 
 " Things will not be like this, you know, 
 dearest. In just a few days it will be dif 
 ferent." 
 
 He speaks hurriedly as though anxious to 
 convey to her that she is not to live in 
 poverty; as though to reassure her; as though 
 to ward off reproach. 
 
 Everet stands apart. After a time, when 
 Braine has gone into the next room, he ap 
 proaches the woman in the chair. He stands 
 by her side. She looks up at him. The re-
 
 336 JUG GERNA UT : 
 
 lentless look leaves her eyes; her expression, 
 aside from that, is the same. She does not 
 speak. He takes her hand in his and holds it 
 for a moment ; then says gently : 
 
 " Good-bye, Helen." 
 
 No answer. He lays her hand tenderly in 
 her lap, and leaves the room. He never sees 
 her again. 
 
 In the next room he grasps Braine s hands, 
 saying in a husky voice : 
 
 " I am going, dear Braine. I shall not re 
 turn. God bless you." 
 
 Braine looks in his face, and Everet sees 
 that he has acquired a new expression, one 
 that will be constant. The old restlessness, 
 wistfulness, hope, feverishness are gone. 
 Patience is there, instead. 
 
 The men stand with clasped hands for a 
 moment ; then Everet goes out the door, 
 carrying with him the memory of two faces, a 
 man s and a woman s ; one tragic in its pa 
 tience ; one tragic in its gloom. They are the 
 faces of the only man and the only woman he 
 has ever loved. 
 
 These three who have sinned and been 
 sinned against ! These three with a common 
 guilt ! Two, with a mutual repentance. The 
 other a woman ! 
 
 Helen, sitting alone, her eyes rest on the
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 33? 
 
 desk with its collar-boxed pigeon-holes. Does 
 it suggest something to her ? Perhaps. The 
 same, shadowy, enigmatic smile crosses her 
 face, and is gone.
 
 338 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 XLI. 
 
 THE cottage is still the old amiliar white 
 cottage at the foot of the lane. The dog on 
 the step is Helen s dog. The bed of sweet- 
 williams is still tended by Braine. The same 
 old desk sits in the corner, at which the same 
 earnest, grave man works, but all else is dif 
 ferent. 
 
 There is no longer the seductiveness of shin 
 ing cleanliness alone, but there have been 
 added the proper settings of the Helen of long 
 ago. 
 
 The cottage is dainty within; rich with 
 soft carpets and heavy hangings. It impresses 
 one as a little incongruous at first, on entering 
 with the impression of simplicity gained out 
 side ; but the feeling quickly wears off, and 
 one is satisfied with the charm. 
 
 All was done in a week s time. She did not 
 have to wait. 
 
 She apparently has been unimpressed with
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 339 
 
 the change. She has accepted the luxury as 
 she did the apparent poverty. Braine has no 
 way of knowing whether it pleases her or not ; 
 whether she has a desire that he may make 
 himself happy by gratifying her or not. 
 
 She sits always in one place on a luxuri 
 ously soft, roomy chair in the window, with 
 the flower-bed just in front of her. She sits 
 half reclining here, from morning till night. 
 
 Braine attends to every want. He dresses 
 her as deftly as a woman, in the morning; at 
 night he assists her again. 
 
 She requires no waiting on. He stands for 
 moments beside her sometimes, longing to 
 hear her signify a desire that he may fulfil it. 
 She wants nothing. 
 
 Sometimes her presence drives him nearly 
 mad. He sits at the desk hour after hour, 
 feeling her dark, brooding eyes fixed upon him. 
 He endures it until he feels his senses swim 
 ming, and then sometimes looks up with a 
 smile, terrible in its effort and pathos. He 
 looks up to meet the relentless gaze that fol 
 lows him from morning till night. Never a 
 word, never a motion. Silence, passivity 
 always. 
 
 She looks at one other thing the sweet- 
 williams in front of the window. Her expres 
 sion may not change ; it may be the relief that
 
 34O JUG GERNA UT: 
 
 he experiences, when he knows that her eyes 
 are not upon him, but he fancies that the gaze 
 is less terrible, less forbidding when she looks 
 at the flowers. For this reason, he brings her 
 a fragrant little bunch each morning, each 
 evening. He lays them in her lap. He never 
 sees her touch them, but she never rejects 
 them. She accepts them as she does every 
 thing else, in utter silence, passively. 
 
 Those brought in the morning are withered 
 at night, and those brought at night, faded by 
 day but he never throws them away. They 
 have been near her. They have touched her 
 gown possibly she has touched them with 
 her hands. It is possible she has touched 
 them with her lips those lips he never dares 
 kiss. At any rate he keeps the withered flow 
 ers. He puts them away, each little faded 
 bunch, in a drawer in the strange little 
 desk. 
 
 Sometimes he raises his head from his writ 
 ing to speak. He meets her glance, and is 
 dumb. Sometimes he thinks she must be 
 lonely, and reads to her, reads until the fasci 
 nation of her eyes draws his glance from the 
 pages, and he looks up with the feeling of 
 horror and oppression that now possesses him. 
 Sometimes he longs for the sound of her voice. 
 Indeed, sometimes the longing becomes so
 
 A VEILED KECORD. 341 
 
 intense that he clenches his hands, and the 
 perspiration stands in great beads upon his 
 forehead. 
 
 Sometimes he sits in the twilight, the silent 
 figure near, and thinks of the tones of a voice 
 long ago. He tries to recall the intonation 
 she gave to his name, and certain phrases she 
 used. He wonders if the tones are just right 
 in his memory. 
 
 At these times he thinks every moment : 
 
 "Will she speak? She is about to speak 
 now. In a moment she will speak my name." 
 And he sits breathlessly, with his head partly 
 turned. There is never a word, never a sound, 
 never a motion. 
 
 He is working in his flower-bed. He puts 
 down his trowel and hurries In, suddenly pos 
 sessed with the idea " She may feel like 
 speaking, and I not be there." Or while he is 
 at work among the flowers he looks up to find 
 her looking at him. 
 
 Her dog is at her feet. She never notices 
 him, never touches him. Braine can no 
 longer find a trace of Helen, his wife, in this 
 woman. He tries in vain to recall her expres 
 sion. 
 
 This evening he is standing at the little gate 
 leading to the lane. He leans on it in the 
 sweet silence, that the birds are emphasizing.
 
 342 JUGGERNAUT: 
 
 He is looking off into the far-away, his white 
 hair touched by the setting sun. 
 
 Is it the effect of the dying light, or is his 
 face different ? His dark eyes have grown 
 dreamy with their absent look. There is a 
 half smile on his firm, tender lips ; an expres 
 sion of resignation, which is not dogged but 
 cheerful ; an expression that impels the squir 
 rel on the rail of the fence to stay where he is, 
 and the dog to poke his black nose into his 
 master s hand. 
 
 He turns toward the house, stooping over 
 the sweet-williams to gather the accustomed 
 bunch. He goes into the cottage with them 
 in his hand, the same half-smile on his 
 lips. 
 
 In the doorway he pauses. He stands gaz 
 ing at the figure in the chair by the window. 
 What has come over him ? He brushes his 
 hand slowly across his eyes. Helen sits by 
 the window. Where is the terrible face that 
 has haunted him all these months ? 
 
 He goes nearer. She is asleep. The set 
 ting sun burnishes the gold of her hair until it 
 is like the aureole of a saint. It frames the 
 face not of the woman who has sat in silence 
 so long, but of the woman who loved him in 
 his youth. The same sweet mouth with its 
 tender smile. The wife of his youth, of his
 
 A VEILED RECORD. 343 
 
 love, of his happiness, of his poverty, of his 
 eminence, of 
 
 He is at her side. The sun has lowered a 
 little, and the delicate flush on her face is 
 going with it. 
 
 He bends near her till his lips touch her 
 tender ones that seem to invite. 
 
 He leans heavily against her chair. He lays 
 the sweet-williams gently in her dead hands, 
 as the sun sets behind the hill. 
 
 Juggernaut has passed over his soul and 
 Helen s.
 
 A brainy little volume" PROVIDENCE TELEGRAM. 
 
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