THE SUCCESS OF 
 PATRICK DESMOND 
 
 MAURICE FRANCIS EGAN
 
 </
 
 THE SUCCESS 
 
 PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 MAURICE FRANCIS EGAN. 
 
 NOTRE DAME, IND.: 
 OFFICE OP THE "AVE MARIA/
 
 By D. E. HUDSON, C. S. C. 
 Copyright, 1893
 
 TO 
 
 PATRICK O'BRIEN, ESQ., 
 
 OF 
 SOUTH BEND, INDIANA, 
 
 WITH THE 
 
 RESPECT OF THE AUTHOR, 
 MARCH 17, 1893. 
 
 */ -A. -J. '3 t^J 3 &
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATEICK DESMOND. 
 
 I. 
 
 And I am sick at heart. Francisco in Hamlet. 
 
 IN the little town of Redwood, in a State which 
 is almost happy enough to have its boundary line 
 touch the sacred soil of New York, there were 
 two very unhappy people. One was a man of 
 twenty-three ; the other was a young gentle- 
 woman of the same age. 
 
 For fear of disappointment, it is as well to say 
 that there was no cause like that which made all 
 the woes of Romeo and Juliet to make them suffer. 
 Patrick Desmond was neither a Capulet nor a 
 Montague, and the only person he really loved 
 in the world was his mother. As to Eleanor 
 Redwood, she was of a ruling family of the 
 town it having been named after her father, 
 the Judge, but as yet this had nothing to do 
 with any affair of the heart. She was in that 
 happy and healthy period of life when she was 
 unconscious of possessing a heart. She had not
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 begun to think or talk about it at all ; and she 
 loved with all her unconscious heart the old 
 Judge, her father. 
 
 And it was this love that made her wretched. 
 Eleanor was, in appearance, a beautiful girl. The 
 people of Redwood did not know it; but there 
 were many more important things they did not 
 know. It was their opinion that Eleanor would 
 have been " passable " if her eyes " matched " her 
 hair. At Redwood, taste required that every- 
 thing should " match." She had light hair with 
 a tinge of red in it, and large brown eyes. In 
 fact, her face was like Lely's picture of Mary 
 Stuart in her youth. There was a freckle or two 
 on her cheek, and she was very tall. Unlike most 
 tall girls, she did not make the mistake of stoop- 
 ing forward to conceal her height. When she was 
 interested, her face brightened ; but, as a rule, it 
 was rather sad in repose. She had a great capac- 
 ity for enjoyment, and the social amusements of 
 the town satisfied her. She did not long for 
 anything better or wider, for she had never known 
 anything else. It was the impression of the town 
 that she dressed badly ; and the members of the 
 first families, as well as the factory girls, could 
 not tolerate that. The idea of Eleanor Redwood 
 wearing plain frocks and simple hats, when, as 
 everybody knew, she might have had the finest 
 possible things from New York or Paris ! Con-
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 5 
 
 sequently she attracted no attention whatever in 
 church. 
 
 She was held to be peculiar and haughty. 
 Some people thought that she was clever ; but as 
 she had never been away from home, and had not 
 " finished " her education in one of the large 
 cities or in Europe, there was a division of opinion 
 on this point. Still she was envied. Was she 
 not Judge Redwood's daughter ? And, though 
 there were richer people than Judge Redwood in 
 the town, there was nobody so distinguished. He 
 held advanced opinions ; he was not an Ingersol- 
 lian he said there were no Ingersollians, and 
 that Ingersoll was a thing of shreds and patches. 
 He believed, he said, " in sixteen ounces to the 
 pound." Further than that he did not know. 
 He was good-humored and cynical at the same 
 time. He was tall, florid, and his white side 
 whiskers would have been a perfect guarantee of 
 his respectability anywhere in America where 
 white side whiskers and a high, bald forehead are 
 almost as impressive as a bank account. The 
 main resemblance between him and his daughter 
 was in the eyes large, brown, expressive. 
 
 Judge Redwood was a quiet man ; he lived 
 among his books when people would let him. 
 He had, in early days, been a member of Congress. 
 Beyond that he had not gone into political life. 
 He was a judge in one of the local courts. As a
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 lawyer his earnings had not been large. His in- 
 come came from happy or unhappy, according 
 to Eleanor's secret thoughts investments in 
 real estate. 
 
 The Judge was not always cheerful ; at times 
 he was preoccupied and irritable. He would sit at 
 his study window in the twilight, lost in thought ; 
 and when Eleanor would come to call him to 
 have his tea, she could not help seeing that he 
 made an effort to be cheerful. She thought she 
 knew the reason why ; and, looking across the tea- 
 table, with the pretty appointments which Eleanor 
 loved to perfect, she felt that there was an abyss 
 between her father and her. Why did he not 
 speak ? If he only knew her if he could only 
 realize how little all the smoothness of life meant 
 to her ! With joy in her heart she would walk 
 out of this comfortable and even luxurious house, 
 take her simplest dresses, and go, poor and un- 
 friended, to the end of the world with him. She 
 thought of Wilhelm Meister and Mignon. She 
 thought of a dreary city, with narrow streets ; 
 and she imagined herself walled in by a room 
 without beauty, without associations. She looked 
 over the soft, green lawn, dotted with golden cro- 
 cuses and scarlet tulips; she felt the gentle 
 warmth of the grate fire, not disagreeable in the 
 early spring ; her eyes fell on the picture of her 
 Ijother above the mahogany cabinet of old china.
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 Yes, she could give all these up ; and Mignon's 
 song rose in her mind : 
 
 " There, there, with thee, 
 O, father, would I dwell ! " 
 
 She saw that her father's Oolong was just as he 
 liked it ; and that he had the large, solid, old- 
 fashioned cup he preferred, with its cup-plate, and 
 its picture in blue of a scene in Canton. The 
 Judge, having poured out his tea into his saucer, 
 and carefully adjusted his precious cup on the 
 little plate which the provident matrons of the 
 past designed out of regard for the table-cloths, 
 looked up at his daughter with a smile. 
 
 " You are just a little like your mother now," 
 he said. " Hold your head a little to one side. 
 Now ! The firelight on your forehead makes me 
 go back twenty years, and I fancy that Clarissa 
 is here. Time, after all, has only one conqueror 
 memory. But your mother was a little woman, 
 and you are tall." 
 
 " Why, when I was sixteen I could almost lift 
 her up and carry her like a doll. And to think 
 that she has been dead since I was seventeen." 
 
 "I miss her more than you, Eleanor more 
 than you," the Judge said. " If it hadn't been 
 for the streak of queerness your mother inherited 
 from her family, she would have been the most 
 perfect creature on earth. The Waldrons were 
 all queer. The fact is, they had that peculiar
 
 8 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICE DESMOND. 
 
 hallucination that affects Americans more than 
 other people. They believed in their own inven- 
 tions. The first Waldron came over in the early 
 part of the eighteenth century, and it ruined all 
 his descendants. They imagined that they were 
 an ' old family ' ; and when I proposed to your 
 mother, the whole kit and kin of them exclaimed 
 against it, because I had never thought of asking 
 my father when he came. As if it made any dif- 
 ference ! " 
 
 Eleanor felt that it would be unkind to deprive 
 her father of the luxury of finding fault with his 
 wife's relatives, but this last remark touched her 
 prejudices. She could not permit the claims of 
 " blood " to be sneered at. 
 
 " It is something to be a Waldron," she said ; 
 " something not to be of yesterday ; something 
 not to be of the mass of railroad laborers and 
 emigrants who make up the bulk of our popula- 
 tion. Surely, papa, you are not sorry that I have 
 Waldron blood in me ; are you ? " 
 
 The Judge looked at her curiously for a mo- 
 ment. " Your mother was a very lovely woman, 
 but she had the Waldron streak in her," he ad- 
 ded, with a sigh. " Don't imagine that I dislike 
 your little airs of aristocracy, Eleanor. They 
 become you ; they are like brandy sauce to a 
 plum-pudding. But if you love me, don't ask 
 me to regard them seriously. A man in this
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 9 
 
 country must be his own ancestor ; a woman can 
 borrow, invent, idealize as many ancestors as she 
 likes. It amused me to see you pin a big bow of 
 orange ribbon on the old spinning-wheel on which 
 my dear old mother spun her husband's coats and 
 waistcoats, and exhibit it in the parlor. There 
 was no harm in it. It showed that you had a 
 grandmother who worked with her own hands, 
 which is just what these emigrants do. The only 
 difference between her and them is that thank 
 God ! she loved books, and the taste remains 
 with me. That, and not ' blood,' gave me what- 
 ever grip I have on the world. But I don't 
 object to your 'fads.' A woman to be quite 
 charming needs a certain amount of foolishness." 
 
 The Judge laughed. Eleanor made an impa- 
 tient movement with her head and the thin 
 Waldron teaspoon. 
 
 " Connect the Waldrons, if you wish, with Rich- 
 ard Coeur de Lion or anybody you like ; but don't 
 ask me to believe in them. A man's a man ; and 
 Americans, in spite of their longing to be better 
 than their neighbors, know that and act up to it. 
 Nobody really believes in this ancestral nonsense, 
 except man milliners and the ladies. Just look at 
 the sons of our great men another cup of tea, my 
 dear. Inherited abili ty is the essence of a real 
 aristocracy ; nothing else. And until we can 
 entail ability, great names will not really count in
 
 10 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 the second generation another cup of tea, dear. 
 Grandma always said that I would be a great man 
 like Dr. Johnson, because I was so fond of tea. 
 Oh ! by the way, Rena Eastwood gave me a note 
 for you as I was passing her house. It was a 
 message first ; but, as I told her I'd forget it, she 
 reduced or elaborated it into a note." 
 
 Eleanor showed no anxiety ; she went on pin- 
 ning a scarlet tulip to her white cloth gown, while 
 the Judge searched his pockets for the note. She 
 knew well that the process would take time ; 
 besides, she was not particularly anxious to read 
 one of Rena Eastwood's epistles. 
 
 The Judge was proverbially absent-minded. He 
 laid envelope after envelope on the table, and 
 finally found a little three-cornered note. 
 
 " I wish," he said irritably, " that people would 
 not bother me in this way." But as Eleanor took 
 the note, he relapsed into serenity and the con- 
 templation of a piece of his daughter's cake. 
 
 Eleanor opened the note. It was written in the 
 prevailing angular hand Rena had been a pupil 
 of a fashionable New York school. Eleanor ran 
 her eyes over the contents ; her face flushed a 
 little. 
 
 " Rena does such stupid things ! " she said. " I 
 must really drop all church work, if this sort of 
 thing goes on. One is brought into contact with 
 all sorts of people."
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 11 
 
 The Judge laughed. " It strikes me that you 
 object to the principle of church work. I thought 
 that it was the object of church work to bring all 
 Christians together." 
 
 "But what has the Minuet of Nations to do 
 with Christianity ? " 
 
 The Judge laughed again. 
 
 u Oh ! you know what I mean, papa. Our 
 church work is merely social ; and of course we 
 are all Christians ; and of course we all try to do 
 good to the poor and all that kind of thing ; but 
 we don't want to mix the strata. It will ruin all 
 our usefulness, if things are made too miscella- 
 neous." 
 
 The Judge, who had the reprehensible habit 
 of tucking his napkin under his chin, lay back 
 and laughed louder than ever. He made a very 
 jolly picture. 
 
 Eleanor was irritated; her father would not 
 understand. 
 
 " Rena," she said, with perceptible frost in a 
 voice that was usually low and sweet, " announces 
 that Howard Sykes has been called away, and that 
 there is nobody tall enough to lead the minuet 
 with me at the Charity Festival, except a young 
 man her brother knows and nobody else seems to 
 know. His name is Desmond, and he lives over 
 the river, among the factory hands." 
 
 "Desmond!"
 
 12 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 The Judge's face changed ; the laugh died on 
 his lips. Eleanor raised her eyes in time to see 
 the light go out of his eyes. He dropped them 
 before hers. 
 
 "Ah," he repeated, "Desmond ! Do they live 
 here still?" 
 
 His voice was quiet, but he could not conceal 
 from eyes that had studied him many times that 
 he was agitated. A quick pang pierced Eleanor's 
 heart at last. She had gained another clue to 
 the secret of her father's life. If he would only 
 speak. 
 
 " Rena says," she went on, " that she must ask 
 him just to fill up. He's not in our et in fact, 
 he's not in any of the church sets : he's a Catholic. 
 And she wants me to be nice to him 'for this 
 occasion only,' as she puts it. She says that I 
 must ask him to my Coffee, as that sort of people 
 are so sensitive." 
 
 The Judge smiled again. " I thought that the 
 Coffee was an instrument of torture for the use of 
 women only." 
 
 "I shall have mine in the evening and have 
 men, too," said Eleanor. " I intend to pay off all 
 uy indebtedness to the mob at once." 
 
 The Judge grinned, and recovered his equa- 
 nimity. " A pleasant thing it is when sociability 
 becomes a debt, and you speaking of showing it as 
 if you were paying a bill."
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 13 
 
 " Well, never mind, papa. I suppose I shall 
 have to ask this young Desmond. I hope he wiH 
 not be too vulgar." 
 
 Eleanor watched her father almost uncon- 
 sciously while she said this. He looked up 
 quickly. 
 
 " You will not find him vulgar," he remarked. 
 " I don't happen to know him," he added ; " but I 
 have heard of him." 
 
 Eleanor's heart sank. She rose quickly, as her 
 father took up a newspaper and made for the 
 lounge in the bay-window. She went slowly up 
 to her room, which glowed in the red sunlight 
 all its pretty adornments steeped in what seemed 
 to her to be an ominous crimson glow. She knelt 
 down by the window that looked toward the river. 
 A low, level plain stretched down to its banks, 
 dotted with pretty houses. Points of light shone 
 across the water, where the crowded houses of the 
 factory hands stood. The freshness and scent of 
 spring filled the air ; she thought of life over there, 
 among coarse people, where at this hour the smell 
 of frying beefsteak mingled with the scent of 
 onions, and the yells of untaught children rang 
 through the thin partitions. 
 
 " He," she said, " should be here and I there. 
 He should have all the pleasant things I enjoy ; 
 but I could never live over there, never, never ! 
 I should die ! "
 
 14 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 She covered her face with her hands. As the 
 twilight deepened she lit a lamp and took out a 
 pretty blue and gold writing outfit. As she did 
 so she caught sight of the face of the Sistine 
 Madonna. It was the only thing in the room that 
 gave her comfort, for she was wretched. At her 
 age wretchedness is intermittent. Human nature, 
 unless it is insane, cannot remain wretched very 
 long at any age. 
 
 " I wish you were a live woman and that I could 
 talk to you," she said to the picture. " I am in 
 such doubt, and you could explain things to God 
 better than I can." 
 
 She sat down and wrote a note, in her father's 
 name, to Mr. Patrick Desmond, East Redwood, 
 asking him to be present at the social function, 
 which was to pay off so much of her " indebted- 
 ness." 
 
 At this same hour of twilight, on the next 
 evening, Patrick Desmond was in revolt. He had 
 just made his toilet in the little room he called his 
 own. It was a plain, scantily furnished room, 
 but scrupulously kept with all a mother's care. 
 His curly, auburn hair flowed away from a high, 
 white brow, that, over-arching, shadowed his dark 
 blue eyes. He was unusually tall, ' and he made 
 the little front room of his mother's house seem 
 smaller when he was in it. He wore a loose sack 
 coat, which was always kept for the house, much
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 15 
 
 to the surprise of the neighbors, who thought 
 their shirt sleeves good enough. 
 
 The front room was a model of neatness. The 
 floor was white from frequent scrubbing; in its 
 centre was a brilliant piece of carpet. A marble- 
 topped table stood near the window, on which 
 were a large, gilt-lettered volume, " The Lives of 
 the Popes," and an equally large " Holy Bible." 
 A large chromo of St. Patrick driving the snakes 
 out of Ireland filled the space over the mantel- 
 piece. The window was curtained with white and 
 rilled with pots of flowers, the geraniums and a 
 purple hyacinth being in bloom. On the air was 
 borne, not the odor of beefsteak and onions, as 
 the fastidious Miss Redwood had imagined, but 
 that of broiling fish, for it was Friday. And 
 after a time a soft voice called out from the inner 
 room : 
 
 " Come, boy. You must be hungry." 
 He did not move at once. How could he go 
 into the light with that frown on his brow, and 
 that spirit of bitterness in his face? He hated 
 Redwood. He hated all the surroundings of his 
 life. To think of living as he did, among people 
 who had no higher ambition in life than " not to 
 be out of work," and to save a little money, was 
 madness. He appreciated the loving care his 
 mother gave him ; but he detested the circum- 
 stances that forced her to do all her kindly work
 
 16 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICE: DESMOND. 
 
 with her own hands. Benson Eastwood, his 
 fellow-clerk in the factory, had asked him a dozen 
 times to visit him. How could he ? Benson lived 
 on the hill, in the very centre of all that was repu- 
 table and elegant in Redwood. How would it do 
 to have Benson come across the river to return his 
 visit now ? Desmond felt the blood rush to his 
 face. Why was life so artificial ? Why could not 
 people be valued for themselves, without regard 
 to their surroundings ? Why was he pinioned for 
 life under a crowd of inferior people, simply 
 because his father and mother had been poor 
 and remained poor? He was as clever as any- 
 body in Redwood ; his manners were as good ; for 
 refinement he would compare his mother with 
 all the parvenus in the town, rich as they were. 
 But an artificial standard had been made; 
 he was not only poor which would not have 
 made all the difference, but he was quite out of 
 all the ways of advancement. Jeff Goodsloe was 
 a clerk like him, so was Benson Eastwood ; but 
 they had been brought up on the other side of the 
 river ; they were in the " church circles " ; they 
 were not of the "Irish Catholic" set; they 
 belonged to " old families." It will be seen that 
 Patrick Desmond took his provincial town very 
 seriously. But he had never lived anywhere else ; 
 it was his world. 
 " Come, boy ! "
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 17 
 
 He tightened his fists in the dark. He felt like 
 dashing away the encroaching walls which kept 
 him where he was. The smell of the fish and of 
 the kerosene lamp sickened him. He went into 
 the little dining-room, papered in white and red, 
 with a mirror in a veneered frame as its central 
 ornament. His mother hovered around him like 
 a happy bird over her nest. A smile came to his 
 face as the little woman pressed him to eat. Her 
 hair was as white as snow, smoothly drawn back 
 from her forehead, and puffed out with hidden 
 combs in the old-fashioned way. Her skin, deli- 
 cately tinted with the red of a lady-apple, was 
 covered with a network of wrinkles. Her eyes 
 were as blue and as bright as her son's. She wore 
 a dark gown, which hung in ample folds, and a 
 wide lace collar. No matter how hard her work 
 during the day had been, she was always dressed 
 in this manner when her boy came home. 
 
 Mrs. Desmond told him that the children next 
 door were recovering from the measles ; that the 
 white hyacinth had bloomed ; that the flour mills 
 in Eureka threatened to close, and that she hoped 
 he would find a place for Tommy Hogan if he 
 should come home out of work. She asked him 
 if he had heard anything new about the great 
 Charity Festival for the Hospital. Tommy Hogan's 
 father had been flooring the interior of the Music 
 Hall for it ; it was going to be magnificent. Her
 
 18 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 son sighed. His mother paused and looked at 
 him. She read his thoughts; but she went on 
 talking, as if his mind were a closed book to her. 
 She trembled a little ; and when he spoke in a 
 resolute tone, she was not surprised. 
 
 " Mother," he said, " we must leave this place. 
 I want to be the equal of any man, and I intend 
 to be. To-day when Miss Redwood passed me, 
 and smiled at Benson and met me with a cold 
 stare of superiority, I made up' my mind that I 
 would not stand it. I will have power ; I will 
 teach her " He stopped. He felt that he was 
 talking too loud, and frightening his mother. " I 
 will be rich. It is the only thing that gives a man 
 power. Don't talk religion, mother. That was 
 what kept father down " 
 
 "No, no," cried his mother, raising her hands, 
 as if averting a curse ; " it saved him ! Patrick, 
 don't say that. We did the best we could for you, 
 boy. And I'm sure," she said, a sob breaking her 
 voice, as she thought of their long years of toil 
 and of all her care, " and I'm sure we have a 
 very pleasant home." 
 
 " Oh ! I know, mother I know. I am not com- 
 plaining, but I want more. I want to be rich, 
 powerful, respected ; and to make the people here 
 at Redwood feel it. I am sure the Judge looks 
 down on us as if we were beneath him." 
 
 "You ought not to think so," said his mother,
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 19 
 
 in that soft voice which had the inflection of her 
 native place in it. " He is kind. He never for- 
 gets that I attended his wife in her last sickness, 
 and many times before that. You know that he 
 always sends a gift on her birthday." 
 
 Patrick's lip curled. " And I suppose Eleanor, 
 his daughter, is taught to believe that you were 
 her mother's hired nurse?" 
 
 Mrs. Desmond smiled a little. "In those days 
 Mrs. Redwood could not have afforded such a 
 luxury. She was always very proud of being a 
 Waldron. We were just neighbors, that was all. 
 There were no factories here then ; it was before 
 the Judge sold his lots and became rich." 
 
 Patrick rose from the table, and stretched out 
 his arms as if the place were too small for him. 
 
 "I must go away, mother," he said. 
 
 His mother looked at him anxiously. " Sure, 
 it was good enough for your father." 
 
 " I want to be better than my father." 
 
 Mrs. Desmond shook her head. " That would 
 be hard God rest his soul ! " she said. 
 
 " Oh, I don't mean that way. He was full of 
 Old- World traditions and prejudices. He believed 
 in the work of one's hands ; I believe in the work 
 of one's head." 
 
 " He worked to save his soul," said Mrs. Des- 
 mond, reverently. 
 
 " Well, why can't I save my soul and be
 
 20 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND, 
 
 somebody, too ? " he demanded, impatiently. " I'm 
 an American ; I'm as good as anybody. I tell you, 
 mother, I'll not live over here among these fac- 
 tories. I'll meet Judge Redwood and his daughter 
 face to face. Success succeeds; I want success, 
 at any cost." 
 
 Mrs. Desmond did not answer at once ; she 
 said a prayer in the meantime. After that she 
 spoke with a serene and sweet dignity : 
 
 " Nothing is too good for you in my esteem. 
 You've been educated as well as your father and 
 I could do it, and it was a hard struggle some- 
 times. And our only hope was that you should 
 be a good man. We never asked honor or riches 
 for you, but only goodness. I know," she said, 
 with a slight trembling in her voice, u that things 
 are poor and old-fashioned here, and that I am old- 
 fashioned myself ; but, Patrick, your old mother 
 and all that's around her were good enough for 
 him that's gone " 
 
 Her voice broke. Her son put his arm around 
 her neck, but he was not moved. He thought im- 
 patiently that she never could understand him. 
 
 " Surely," she continued, happy now, " you'll 
 gain most by working on and minding your busi- 
 ness and watching your chances. And there's 
 much good to be done here among our own 
 people. We weren't put here to worry ourselves 
 about riches. Let us be content."
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 21 
 
 Patrick ground his teeth to keep back impatient 
 words. His mother suddenly remembered that a 
 note had been left by a messenger in the morning. 
 In a large envelope was Judge Redwood's card ; 
 and, in a smaller one, his invitation, written in 
 Eleanor's handwriting, to the assembly on Wednes- 
 day night. Patrick read it aloud. 
 
 Mrs. Desmond uttered an exclamation of alarm. 
 " Sure you'll never be going over there among all 
 the quality and you not used to it." 
 
 Her son's eyes blazed. " I will go," he said. 
 And after a pause, during which he suppressed 
 his anger : " I wonder what Judge Redwood 
 wants ? He is probably about to run for Congress 
 again. I'll go, mother," he repeated ; " though I 
 hate them all." 
 
 " God help us," murmured his mother. " It's 
 hard for us when our children grow up. What- 
 ever we do is wrong." She removed the dishes, 
 while her son went into the dim parlor to dream ; 
 but at intervals she continued to say plaintively, 
 " God help us."
 
 22 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 II. 
 
 A woman varying as the thistledown ; 
 A wife, a mother ; but alas ! alas ! 
 Without the anchor Hope, the lily 
 Peace, a light thing of the breezes. 
 
 " The Wayside." 
 
 HAVING sent away her special invitation to 
 Patrick Desmond, Eleanor Redwood began to 
 have regrets and doubts. "Why had she been 
 foolish enough to do it?" she asked herself . It 
 was true that she had a particular reason for 
 wanting to meet him. If she did not like him 
 after meeting him, there was no reason why she 
 should permit herself to walk with him in the 
 Minuet of all Nations. She thought with a pang 
 of the alacrity with which her father had con- 
 veyed the note to him. How could her father 
 bear to do it? And yet Eleanor had too much 
 respect for her father not to believe that his 
 intentions were good. Perhaps this invitation 
 would be the means by which the great anxiety 
 of her life should be removed. Her heart leaped 
 at the thought. Her father had said that he had 
 never met Desmond. Did this alacrity in giving 
 the invitation mean that he was anxious to see 
 the young man in surroundings which might 
 enable him to form a judgment of his character 1 
 
 For several years Eleanor had lived under a
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 23 
 
 cloud, as it were, a cloud which bore this resem- 
 blance to an April cloud, that it passed and 
 repassed in intervals of sunshine. Her trouble, 
 judged from the sentimental point of view of 
 people who do not know human nature, ought 
 to have made her unhappy all the time. Perhaps 
 she had become used to it ; perhaps it was 
 because she was young; perhaps it was that, 
 like the lady in Browning's " My Last Duchess," 
 every pleasant thing cheered her up and made 
 her forget her sorrow. At any rate, she was sad 
 only by fits and starts ; and still there was gen- 
 erally an undercurrent of anxiety in her mind. 
 Many times, sitting opposite to the Judge, she 
 had resolved to ask him what her mother had 
 meant. And as many times, when the Judge had 
 smiled frankly at her, or raised his head from 
 his newspaper with the air of one coming up 
 from another world, the words had been stilled 
 on her lips. Her father was a good man the 
 best of men. She asserted this to herself over 
 and over again fiercely. There was no man like 
 him in all the world. Some day he would have 
 the courage to tell all, and then the father and 
 daughter would walk out into the world happier 
 than they ever had been. 
 
 It was a lovely morning. The pink blossoms 
 of the peach floated softly through the air , the 
 purple haze, that hid from view the stems of the
 
 24 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 distant young oaks, gave a softness to the land- 
 scape, which was made almost too brilliant by the 
 dazzling green of the prairie and the warm tones 
 of the peach blossoms. Eleanor looked from the 
 sitting-room window, and forgot her sadness at 
 sight of the scarlet tulip patch on the lawn ; she 
 said to herself that the sun had never gilded so 
 splendid a scene, arched over as it was by a sky 
 of the bluest of blues. It cheered her, and doubts 
 and perplexities rolled away. 
 
 Belinda, the servant of the family, entered to 
 gossip a while. She was a short woman, of an age 
 which was beyond forty ; she had sharp features, 
 a dyspeptic look, and an air of command acquired 
 by her rule in families where she was indispensable. 
 
 " Ain't you goin' out ? " she demanded, entering 
 the room without knocking. " You may as well ; 
 I ain't got nothin' for you to do. But I want to 
 say one thing, Miss Redwood. I ain't goin' to have 
 any more broiled beefsteak in this house. It's 
 flyin' in the face of Providence to broil what the 
 Lord made to be fried. And I ought to know ; 
 for I lived in a minister's family six years, and I 
 sat down at the table with 'em every clay. There 
 was nothin' stuck-up about them, not but what 
 the Judge is all right." 
 
 Eleanor received this shot at herself meekly. 
 She and Belinda were not entirely congenial. 
 Belinda believed in the old democratic conditions
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 25 
 
 of Redwood, when everybody had been as good as 
 anybody else. Belinda felt that she could not be 
 displaced from the Redwood household. The 
 factories swallowed up all the young women who 
 might have entered households as " helps " 
 nobody in Redwood ever spoke of servants ; and a 
 " girl," like Belinda, was eagerly competed for. 
 
 Eleanor had, in her youthful zeal, endeavored 
 to make a place for Belinda, and to keep her in 
 it, much to the Judge's amusement. She tried to 
 induce Belinda to wear a cap in the morning and 
 a white apron occasionally. She tried to banish 
 the fried beefsteak and the constant bilious- 
 looking pie which appeared every day in the 
 week. She politely requested Belinda not to 
 laugh out loud when the Judge made a joke at the 
 table, and by no means to contradict guests. 
 The Judge liked to have Belinda laugh at his 
 jokes, and therefore that reform was not possible. 
 When Mrs. Montressor-Montague, an old Red- 
 woodian who had married in New York, came to 
 luncheon as Eleanor chose to call dinner for 
 one occasion only Belinda cut in and shocked 
 that great lady by boldly combating one of her 
 statements just as the soup came in. This 
 brought things to a crisis. Eleanor remonstrated 
 with Belinda. That valiant woman rose in her 
 wrath. 
 
 "I ain't a Polander," she said; "nor yet a
 
 2P THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 Swede, nor yet any kind of a f urriner. And when 
 that painted hussy from a Dimycratic State 
 laughed at Mrs. Hayes for keeping the seipent's 
 cup out of the White House, I wasn't goin' to 
 stand it. If you want a dummy or a mummy, 
 you've got to get a furri.ner; I'm an American 
 citizen and a hard-shell Baptist, and my tongue's 
 my own. Not but what I might have stood it, if 
 she hadn't said that when she was here Mrs. 
 Eastwood was a good housekeeper. That riled 
 me. You ought to see Mrs. Eastwood's kitchen. 
 I lived with her three months. I ought to 
 know." 
 
 The result of this was that Belinda's wages 
 were raised, and Eleanor could only hope that in 
 future visitors would not " rile " her. 
 
 Belinda came in this morning to make a 
 declaration of war. " I wanted to say, Miss 
 Redwood, that if you're goin' to have refreshments 
 handed around before nine o'clock at your Coffee, 
 I can't be there. We've a church sociable at 
 half-past seven, and I can't miss it." 
 
 Eleanor sank into her chair ; the world became 
 dark. What could she do without Belinda ? 
 " Couldn't you stay at home to-morrow night 
 just this once ? " 
 
 Belinda tightened her lips. " Dut} r 's duty and 
 principle's principle. We young ladies of the 
 church are raising funds to establish a Kinder-
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 27 
 
 garten for the South African tribes. Mr. Stokes 
 says the African children are fearfully neglected ; 
 though I don't doubt that there are some here in 
 Redwood that neglect their children just as bad." 
 
 " Oh! dear," said Eleanor, "what shall I do ?" 
 
 Belinda's face relaxed, and she gently fingered 
 the curl papers in her thin hair. Eleanor's abject- 
 ness was delightful to her. There was silence. 
 At last Eleanor announced that she was going out. 
 
 " Where to? " demanded Belinda. 
 
 " To the Howard House, to see Mrs. Bayard," 
 the young girl replied, never dreaming of refusing 
 to answer. 
 
 " Umph !" said Belinda, disapprovingly. " She 
 ain't no housekeeper. I lived with her a month." 
 
 Eleanor put on her hat and wrap, with an air 
 of dejection, while Belinda quietly watched her 
 from the doorway. 
 
 " There ain't no style about her," she murmured 
 to herself. " If she'd just put her hair in papers 
 and put on more frills, she wouldn't be so bad." 
 
 "Tell father I shall not be home to dinner. 
 I'll have to look for somebody to help me." 
 
 " I just wanted to ask whether you're goin' to 
 have tables or a lap supper. Of course folks will 
 be askin' me. Mrs. Jobson sent her husband over 
 to ask this morning. Folks don't want to wear 
 their best dresses if it's a lap supper - accidents 
 sometimes happen."
 
 28 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 " Oh ! I don't know," Eleanor replied, wearily. 
 " I'll ask Laura Bayard." 
 
 Belinda straightened herself up. "Laura 
 Bayard ain't worth her salt. I went to school 
 with her mother, and a more shiftless creature 
 never existed. Why ! she couldn't make soft-soap. 
 If Laura Bayard is to be brought in with her 
 interferin', I'll stay at home just for the Judge's 
 credit, though I don't know what Mr. Stokes will 
 say. Still, he knows how sacrificin' I am I've 
 told him often enough." She wiped away an 
 imaginary tear, and sniffed. 
 
 "Oh! thank you, Belinda," exclaimed Eleanor, 
 brightening up. " I really can't do without you. 
 If you think we'd better have little tables, you 
 can tell the man to send them. Mrs. Montressor- 
 Montague admired that way so much 
 
 Belinda's face clouded, and Eleanor hastened 
 to pass over the delicate subject. 
 
 " I must go to order the flowers. It's very kind 
 of you, Belinda. And I'll ask father to let you 
 have the buggy on Sunday afternoon." 
 
 Belinda smiled. " I guess the Africans will 
 have to do without a Kindergarten for a week 
 or so," she said ; " and I'll just pitch in. And I 
 don't mind how tired I am when there's a duty 
 before me ; and I think professors of religion 
 ought to feel that way. You just go out and tell 
 that Laura Bayard that you've got somebody in this 
 house that can make the fur fly."
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 29 
 
 Eleanor found Mrs. Bayard reading a novel in 
 a room on the third floor of the Howard House. 
 The Howard House was the one hotel in Red- 
 wood, for Redwood did not much need a hotel. 
 There was, it is true, an ebb and flow of commer- 
 cial travellers. Other visitors to the town gener- 
 ally stayed with friends ; for the Redwoodians 
 were very hospitable, and visits were a large part 
 of their routine of existence. Eleanor had gone 
 into a narrow door, labelled "Ladies' Entrance," 
 and ascended an oil-cloth-covered staircase, per- 
 meated with the smell of the hot cakes of the 
 past winter.' The landing on which she paused 
 before knocking at her friend's room was covered 
 with a green and red carpet. A stove, which had 
 been partly dismantled of its pipe, rested against 
 the wall, which was painted a dark brown, a 
 more cheerless place can hardly be imagined as 
 the entrance to a "home." Who could take his 
 ease in such an inn ? 
 
 Mrs. Bayard's sitting-room was painted brown ; 
 the furniture was of a dingy walnut color ; some 
 photographs in a pretty case, a water-color or two, 
 and red curtains on the windows, rather redeemed 
 the dinginess of all the appointments. Eleanor 
 could not help pitying her friend, since these two 
 rooms, bereft of all homeliness, were her home. 
 
 Laura Bayard was attired in some flimsy mate- 
 rial arranged in the Japanese manner, and glowing
 
 30 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 with pink and green. She was not older than 
 Eleanor. Her eyes were small and blue, her 
 light-colored skin was wrinkled and dry from the 
 use of much powder, and her hair was of that tint 
 produced by the bleaching process. She was a 
 very pronounced blonde, and she was considered 
 a great beauty in Redwood. 
 
 " O, Nora ! " she cried, kissing her friend rapt- 
 urously, " I am so glad to see you. This book is 
 stupid. I begin to hate Ibsen." 
 
 " I should think you would/' said Eleanor. 
 " Papa read one of his plays to me. They teach 
 a very bad lesson." 
 
 " Oh ! my dear," rejoined Laura, patting her 
 friend gently on the cheek, with a superior air, 
 "lessons have gone out of fashion. Everything 
 has changed. Ibsen has discovered that life is 
 nothing, as Schopenhauer did before him ; and 
 that the main thing is to die beautifully." 
 
 " O, Laura ! " said Eleanor, really alarmed, 
 " how can you talk this way ? Where did you 
 learn all this ? " 
 
 " I've been reading a great deal lately. I haven't 
 had much to do since the baby died, and we've 
 dropped housekeeping. Poor, dear little baby." 
 
 Eleanor looked away ; she saw the tears com- 
 ing into Laura Bayard's eyes. 
 
 " And to think that old Mrs. Desmond seemed 
 to understand the little thing better than I 
 did "
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 31 
 
 " Desmond ! " said Eleanor, unconsciously. 
 
 " Why, do you know her ? " 
 
 Eleanor flushed slightly. " Oh, no ! that is, 
 papa has asked her son to my Coffee." 
 
 Laura looked at Eleanor contemplatively. " It's 
 not a bad idea. Pat Desmond is a clever fellow, 
 they say. What made him do it politics ? " 
 
 " No ! " replied Eleanor indignantly. " Papa is 
 above that." 
 
 Mrs. Bayard laughed cynically. "Are you 
 interested in this young Desmond ? Come, tell 
 me. Let us have a good talk." 
 
 For a moment Eleanor felt very unhappy. 
 The situation jarred on her womanly sensibility. 
 She felt from that time less affection, less respect 
 for Laura. " Was she interested in this young 
 Desmond ? " Yes, she was ; but how could Laura 
 imagine she was interested in that way ? It was 
 a shock to think that Laura could suspect her of 
 consenting to invite a man to her father's house 
 under the circumstances which were evidently 
 assigned for it by Laura. 
 
 Laura Bayard misconstrued her pause. Eleanor 
 made a point of never telling the smallest untruth, 
 and she was utterly unskilled in the diplomatic 
 art of evasion. 
 
 " Ah, my dear," she said, laughing, " I am 
 afraid you've lost your heart to that good-looking 
 young Irishman. It is queer how such things
 
 32 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 happen. And, of course, if you take him up 
 socially here in Redwood, everybody else will fol- 
 low. But the idea of Judge Redwood's daughter 
 marrying an unknown young man, brought up 
 among the factory hands. His mother is a good 
 woman. How she loved that little baby of mine ! 
 She baptized it, you know. I couldn't refuse 
 her, it seemed such a small thing to grant after 
 all her kindness." 
 
 Eleanor was silent. She felt as if she had been 
 insulted. Her cheeks were pale now. "What 
 kind of a world was it," she asked herself, " where 
 such interpretations could be put on the simplest 
 action ? " She was indignant at her father. Why 
 had he permitted her to invite this Mr. Desmond ? 
 He ought to have protected her against such mis- 
 conceptions. Then she remembered that the Judge 
 would have no more dreamed of interfering with 
 any social suggestions of hers than of asking to be 
 sent as minister to France. Still, she said to her- 
 self, very unreasonably, that somebody ought to 
 have protected her. 
 
 " I can recall the invitation," she said. 
 
 " And why recall it, if you are interested in 
 Mr. Desmond ? " 
 
 " I am interested in the Desmonds yes. I 
 can't tell you why," Eleanor said, frightened that 
 so much of her secret had escaped. 
 
 Laura looked at her doubtfully. " And why
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 33 
 
 shouldn't you marry him if you like him ? He is 
 a Catholic, to be sure ; but religion doesn't make 
 much difference now. We are all just what our 
 environment makes us. The main thing is cul- 
 ture and the intellectual life. But American hus- 
 bands are out of that ; they haven't any time for 
 the intellectual life. So if young Desmond isn't 
 too ignorant, you'd not be worse off than other 
 women in Redwood. Besides, Eleanor, it is a 
 good thing for a man to have religion ; it keeps 
 him straight," added Laura, with a sigh. " If 
 you marry this Desmond, make him live up to his 
 religion. But marriage is a failure, anyhow." 
 
 Eleanor flushed and paled by turns. Living 
 much with her father when she was not actively 
 engaged in the social amusements and business of 
 the town, she was not accustomed to this frank 
 discussion of her possibilities. She had thought 
 of marriage in a distant way, as something very 
 beautiful and sacred. She shrank, she knew not 
 why, from Laura Bayard's tone. 
 
 " I should think it would be a failure," she 
 said, in a low voice, " when there is no home 
 and you feed on such books as Ibsen's." 
 
 Laura laughed and kissed her. " Preach more," 
 she said. " I wish Harry were here to hear you. 
 How can we have a home ? There is not a hired 
 girl to be had in all Redwood. I shouldn't have 
 a moment for culture or social duty, if I kept 
 house. A woman can't be a drudge."
 
 34 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 " I should think that we might do what our 
 mothers did." 
 
 " Impossible ! What would you do without 
 Belinda?" 
 
 This was a home thrust ; but Eleanor recovered 
 from it. " I shouldn't give Coffees." 
 
 Laura laughed. " We should have to return to 
 the quilting festival and the corn husking ; but 
 the Zeitgeist will not let us. There goes the bell ! 
 Come to dinner with me. I'm lonely. Harry is 
 away ten miles up the railroad." 
 
 Laura smoothed her hair, and taking Eleanor's 
 arm, led her down to the dining-room of the 
 hotel. It was an oblong room, dotted with tables. 
 A caster and several bottles among which those 
 containing ketchup and Worcestershire sauce 
 were most conspicuous stood in the centre of 
 each table, which was ornamented with a bunch 
 of celery. 
 
 Mrs. Bayard assumed a haughty manner as she 
 entered the room, as if unconscious of her pink 
 and green splendor, and of the glances of two or 
 three men who were waiting for the dinner at vari- 
 ous tables. A young woman, with a large, black 
 " bang " over her brow, gracefully approached her 
 and said, in a staccato voice : 
 
 " Roast beef giblets fried pork pota- 
 toes squash tomatoes rutabaga mince- 
 pie apple-pie tea or coffee cabinet pudding? "
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 35 
 
 The orders were soon given, and the ladies 
 were confronted with a bewildering array of veiy 
 little dishes, with a dab of something in each. 
 Eleanor went back mentally to the table at home 
 from which she was seldom absent, and 
 thought with a shudder of people condemned to 
 this semi-public life. 
 
 " There he is," said Laura suddenly. " There's 
 Patrick Desmond." 
 
 She raised her eyes involuntarily, and saw a 
 tall young man neatly attired in a gray suit. He 
 had just taken off his hat and was about to seat 
 himself at a table. He had an easy and graceful 
 air, and his face had a very pleasant expression as 
 he smiled in the direction of the clerk near the 
 door. His eyes met Eleanor's ; and in hers he saw 
 a flash of what seemed to him such scorn and con- 
 tempt that he lowered his. 
 
 Laura had watched the pantomime with the 
 acute interest of an idle woman. " A mystery," 
 she thought. " I must find out all about it." 
 
 Eleanor had averted her eyes coldly ; and Des- 
 mond, boiling with rage, was obliged to listen to 
 the voice of the siren, who said : 
 
 " Roast beef giblets fried pork "
 
 36 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 in. 
 
 " Who knows most waits until he knows." 
 
 Italian Provero. 
 
 WHEN Patrick Desmond left the Howard 
 House after he had exchanged defiant glances 
 with Eleanor Redwood, he felt as some citizen 
 of Paris might have felt in 1790, if the Princesse 
 de Lambelle had glanced down upon him with 
 scorn from her aristocratic height. 
 
 Somebody has said : " I have occasionally met 
 with humility among the rich, never among the 
 poor." Taking this saying for what it is worth 
 and it seems rather harsh, we may premise that, 
 as a rule, the poor man is prouder than his rich 
 brother. And no doubt the wretched Parisian 
 who caught the head of the Princesse de Lambelle 
 on his pike could be really more insolent and 
 arrogant than she had ever dreamed of being. 
 
 Eleanor Redwood was no princess ; she was. not 
 even an aristocrat, though, like most American 
 girls who have read many imported novels, she 
 would have been if she knew how. She was 
 neither arrogant nor insolent. But Desmond 
 read both these hateful attributes in her eyes. 
 And in his, too, which had only been amazed at 
 first by her flash of defiance, she read haughti- 
 ness and contempt. His eyes said to her : "I
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 3 
 
 know how false you are. Go, leave your comfort 
 and luxury, and give me the place that is mine. 
 Go, if you are not utterly worthless, since I re- 
 frain from forcing you to." 
 
 " Oh ! I hate him," Eleanor murmured, half- 
 aloud. For a second she had forgotten the pres- 
 ence of Laura Bayard. 
 
 "Hate whom?" demanded Mrs. Bayard, who 
 had been watching her intently. 
 
 "Oh! was I speaking? it was nothing," re- 
 - plied Eleanor, nervously. " I am absent-minded, 
 that is, the responsibility of this Coffee, you 
 know. And Belinda is so queer" 
 
 Mrs. Bayard smiled. " You hate Belinda ? 
 I understand. So do I. But what do you think 
 of Mr. Desmond ? " 
 
 Eleanor, unaccustomed to hide her feelings, 
 started, and then looked away from her compan- 
 ion. " I don't think of Mr. Desmond at all. I 
 don't see why I should." 
 
 Mrs. Bayard was silent. She watched the color 
 subsiding from Desmond's face. He gulped a 
 cup of coffee, took a small piece of bread, and 
 left the room. 
 
 " He looks as if he had been hit hard," she said 
 to herself. " But what can it mean ? I must 
 find out." 
 
 A look at Eleanor's face was enough to tell her 
 that questions would be useless. Eleanor said
 
 38 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 nothing for some time, she played with the con- 
 tents of all the little dishes, and wished with all 
 her heart that she were home, in her own room. 
 She suddenly realized that Laura Bayard was 
 not congenial to her. The dingy room with its 
 mingled odors, Laura's pearl-powder sown in the 
 wrinkles of her old-young face, her garish dress, 
 her cynical prattle, sickened Eleanor. That glance 
 from Desmond's clear eyes had made her feel 
 mean and commonplace. And the amiable dis- 
 belief insinuated in half a dozen ways by Laura 
 as to her indifference to Desmond irritated her 
 extremely. 
 
 At last the dinner was over and Eleanor was 
 heartily thankful. Mrs. Bayard bustled upstairs, 
 chattering all the way. Eleanor was silent ; she 
 felt very much alone. On her way up to Mrs. 
 Bayard's room she asked herself whether anybody 
 in the world was so much alone. Where on earth 
 was there one to whom she could go for direction, 
 one in whom she could entirely confide ? Laura 
 Bayard had been a school friend of hers, a gay, 
 flippant girl, with a habit of gushing, and also a 
 habit of flirting. Still, Eleanor, probably because 
 Laura had always expressed intense affection for 
 herself, had looked on her as " good-hearted." 
 But marriage had brought Laura's character out ; 
 she had married Harry Bayard, who was employed 
 in the clerical department of the great New York
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 39 
 
 Midland. Laura had been brought up to amuse 
 herself. In Redwood she was described by that 
 horrible phrase "society girl.'' And as her par- 
 ents were of limited means, and her husband of 
 limited means, she, with her entire inability to 
 keep house and her love for society, had found 
 marriage a failure. What he found it was shown 
 by his constant absence from home. 
 
 Just at this time there was probably no one 
 whom Laura envied more than Eleanor. Under 
 all her careless prattle there was hidden a dreadful 
 perplexity. 
 
 " This is the first day I have dined at the hotel 
 this week," she said. " I have been out at lunch- 
 eon, Tea or Coffee every day." 
 
 " And your husband ? " said Eleanor, awaken- 
 ing from her own thoughts. 
 
 Laura shrugged her shoulders. " Oh ! he gets 
 on." 
 
 Eleanor was silent. No, she could not trust so 
 sacred a secret with this woman. 
 
 " Does your father give you a large allowance ? " 
 asked Laura, with apparent aimlessness. 
 
 " As much as I like," answered Eleanor ; " but 
 I don't want much. I always give him an account 
 of everything I spend." 
 
 Laura's heart sank. How could she ask such 
 an absurdly honest girl as Eleanor to give her a 
 loan and to conceal it from her father ? And yet
 
 40 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 this was what Laura Bayard most wanted at that 
 moment. A long bill for the costumes hi which 
 she had dazzled Redwood during the past winter 
 had just come ; and, what was worse, she could 
 not secure certain fascinating articles of spring 
 garb until it was paid. Her husband had quar- 
 relled about it in the morning. He had declared 
 that he could not pay it, and accused her of caring 
 for nothing but dress and novels. She had re- 
 torted by a charge that he drank ; and then, in- 
 furiated, he had said that it was well their child 
 had died ; if he had lived he would have neither a 
 home nor a mother. This had cut her to the quick ; 
 for she felt that in her rage for social dissipation 
 she had neglected the child. She would pay this 
 bill herself or die. She would attire herself in 
 all possible splendor for the spring campaign and 
 secure an invitation to New York, where her sister 
 Elaine lived. She would amuse herself; she 
 would live a broader life. She would let Harry 
 shift for himself ; he deserved it ; she was disap- 
 pointed in him. 
 
 She ran all this over in her mind while Eleanor 
 sat looking out the window. In the old days the 
 two girls had often sat silent, holding speech at 
 times unnecessary. As the clock struck one 
 Eleanor made a movement to go; she must see 
 about the flowers for the decoration of her rooms. 
 Tbe thought of the flowers brought a little smile
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 41 
 
 to her face at once. She enjoyed by anticipation 
 the pleasure of choosing them. 
 
 " You will come early, Laura. You may need 
 to amend my taste." 
 
 " I shall come as soon as Harry gets home. I'd 
 go without him if I wasn't afraid that people 
 would talk. And so you will not tell me your 
 secret about Mr. Desmond ? " 
 
 " No," Eleanor said, startled. The instant she 
 had uttered the word she saw a look of triumph 
 in Laura's face. 
 
 " Ah, there is a secret, then," Laura said to 
 herself. " Good-by ! " and she kissed Eleanor 
 effusively. 
 
 Desmond spent a bad afternoon over his books 
 in the office of the great factory in which he was 
 employed. He declared that he would not go to 
 Judge Redwood's to be sneered at ; he would 
 leave the place, he would not leave the place ; 
 he pictured several scenes in which Eleanor 
 Redwood figured as a suppliant at his feet ; he 
 saw himself granting her a wonderful favor, 
 saving her father's life, and then saying, " This is 
 the man you scorned ; he scorns you now." But 
 there was not much satisfaction in this. When 
 the clock struck six he had determined to go, and, 
 if occasion arose, overwhelm everybody by his 
 insolence. 
 
 " I will make her cower before me," he said to
 
 42 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 himself. " I will teach them to look down en me, 
 I who am of purer and stronger brain than any 
 of them." 
 
 In the meantime Mrs. Bayard sent a card of 
 regret to one of those daily afternoon Teas, which 
 she was sure would bore her. She went to placate 
 Belinda, stung to this action by a feverish desire 
 to escape her own thoughts and a determination 
 to find out Eleanor's secret if possible. 
 
 " Eleanor is in love with young Desmond and 
 her father objects. If I get at the details I may 
 frighten some money out of her. I am desperate. 
 I am done with friendship and love even with 
 Heaven," she said, bitterly. " What a hypocrite 
 Eleanor is," she added. " But she can't deceive 
 me. She'll marry this Desmond before the year 
 is out." 
 
 It is remarkable that shallow-minded people 
 never get below the surface indications of their 
 friends' characters. Mrs. Bayard knew that 
 Eleanor was very truthful on all ordinary occa- 
 sions, but she firmly believed that there was some 
 vein of deceit in her ; she could not imagine that 
 there was anybody in existence with nothing to 
 conceal. She was sure now that Eleanor had 
 become engaged to Patrick Desmond, and that 
 the old Judge, and eveiybody even remotely con- 
 cerned, were to be kept in the dark. She was 
 certain that Eleanor would never get her father's
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 43 
 
 consent to a marriage with Desmond. Now if, 
 through the testimony of Belinda, she could 
 frighten Eleanor, she felt that her deliverance 
 from debt would be secure. Eleanor would not 
 dare to refuse any demand for a reasonable amount 
 she might make. She had few scruples about 
 this ; she said to herself, when her conscience gave 
 her a last expiring sting, that " preservation was 
 the first law of nature." The worst of her con- 
 dition of mind was, that frivolit}^ had so gradually 
 produced it that she did not know how low she 
 had sunk. 
 
 Belinda was in the act of obtaining a great 
 deal of enjoyment out of her household troubles, 
 when Mrs. Bayard arrived at Judge Redwood's. 
 She had sent for two temporary " helps," and 
 their stupidity and blundering were giving her 
 exquisite delight, though she was apparently suf- 
 fering tortures. In answer to Mrs. Bayard's ring 
 she went to the door, a green veil tied over her 
 head and under her chin, and a most elaborate 
 expression of woe on her features. 
 
 " Oh ! it's you," she said, holding to the knob. 
 
 Mrs. Bayard took no notice of her tone. " Is 
 Eleanor in ? " she asked. 
 
 " You ought to know where she is better than I 
 do. She's off gallivanting somewhere, while I am 
 wearing out my life with those two jades, that are 
 not worth their salt. They ought to be in the
 
 44 THE SUCCESS GF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 factories, they are only fit for that kind of slip- 
 shod work." 
 
 " I don't see how you manage to do all you 
 have to do, Belinda," said Mrs. Bayard, diplomat- 
 ically. "I thought while I was here that you 
 might give me some ideas about helping the Kin- 
 dergarten for the little Africans." 
 
 Belinda disliked Mrs. Bayard, and she was quite 
 willing to express her dislike ; but not if it might 
 damage the prospects of the little Africans. She 
 smiled a grim smile. " Laura might be deceitful," 
 she said to herself, " but she could help the Kin- 
 dergarten, if she wanted to, all the same." 
 
 " Come in a few minutes do," she said. " I'll 
 let those two creatures in the kitchen idle away 
 their time for a few minutes, while I tell you 
 about dear Mr. Stokes' plans. You have so much 
 influence," she added, " that you could just put 
 the Kindergarten on its feet, if you would." 
 
 Mrs. Bayard smiled and accepted Belinda's in- 
 vitation. The two entered the sitting-room, and 
 Mrs. Bayard congratulated herself on having 
 struck at Belinda's weak point ; another of her 
 weak points was, she knew, an intense curiosity 
 about the affairs of those immediately around her. 
 
 " Very well, Belinda ; I shall not apologize for 
 interrupting you. A housekeeper like you is never 
 so hurried but that she can take a little time ; 
 that's the beauty of order. But first, Belinda,
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 45 
 
 before we talk of the Kindergarten, who are 
 these Desmonds ? " 
 
 " Nobody ! " said Belinda, emphatically. " Not 
 that Mrs. Desmond ain't a good woman, but she 
 never had no education ; and, besides, she's Irish." 
 
 Mrs. Bayard shook her head sadly. " Things 
 
 are changing, the Irish are coming to the top. 
 
 I know, Belinda, that you've said things about 
 
 nay housekeeping, and even about my mother's; 
 
 they've been repeated to me ; but 
 
 " I did say that your mother was rather slack," 
 answered Belinda, tightening her lips ; " and I'm 
 sure she must have been, or she'd have taught 
 you how to make decent bread. Why, Miss Jenks 
 says that your husband said ' 
 
 "Never mind; I forgive it all," said Mrs. Bay- 
 ard. *' What do you know about the Desmonds ? " 
 
 " Why, I know that Mrs. Desmond took care 
 of Mrs. Redwood many a time before they could 
 afford to hire me; and I know that Mrs. Des- 
 mond often kept the peace between Mrs. Red- 
 wood and the Judge. She was queer, was Mrs. 
 Redwood; she was a Waldron, you know. Look 
 here, Laury ! " cried Belinda, aflame with interest, 
 "jest you wait until I come downstairs, and you 
 will see the curiousest letter." 
 
 Belinda ran upstairs. When she returned she 
 bore a small tin box in her hand ; frqm it she 
 took a page of letter-paper, yellow and creased.
 
 46 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 " Read that," she said. " Mrs. Desmond dropped 
 it one day, and I picked it up. That's about all 
 that's strange I know about the Desmonds, I 
 could tell you more about other folks. But I don't 
 mind showing you this, for the sake of dear Mr. 
 Stokes' Kindergarten." 
 
 Mrs. Bayard languidly took the piece of yellow 
 paper. She would encourage Belinda in this 
 nonsense ; it might lead to something. But when 
 she had read the note three times, she looked up 
 at Belinda and said in a cool, hard voice : 
 
 " I'll keep this. Count on me to form a ladies' 
 committee for the Kindergarten." 
 
 " Oh ! keep it," said Belinda, delighted. " But 
 don't say I give it to you. It is only some of 
 Clarissa Waldron's foolishness I hear them 
 hussies breaking something in the kitchen. I'll 
 be back." 
 
 Belinda flew off. Mrs. Bayard, with a sparkle 
 in her eye, read the yellowed note again : 
 
 MRS. DESMOND : Guard my son as you will guard 
 your life, and I will cherish your child until I can speak 
 out to tell of the wickedness of the man who hates me 
 because I am what I am. Some day the truth will out, 
 and my boy will have his own. 
 
 CLARISSA REDWOOD. 
 
 Mrs. Bayard laughed softly to herself. " Ah," 
 she said, "I shall get all the money I want from 
 the Judge, without bothering Eleanor. Here's a 
 mystery ! I love Belinda ! "
 
 TIIE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 47 
 
 IV. 
 / 
 
 The life that does not rise must lower go ; 
 
 Above its level, so the doctors say, 
 A stream of water cannot higher flow, 
 
 Nor make its way. 
 
 "The Rose of Ghent." 
 
 MRS. BAYARD could make nothing of the note 
 that lay in her hand, and yet she felt glad to have 
 it. Between its lines was concealed, she was sure, 
 something which the Judge would probably wish 
 to keep secret. There was a mystery here, and a 
 mystery which might be coined into money ; and 
 at this time money was the one thing Laura Bay- 
 ard desired. She did not consider herself bad: 
 she believed in her heart that she was as good as 
 most people. She was not inclined to do evil for 
 the love of it, but she had never been taught 
 restraint ; and as she had naturally no nobility of 
 character, she became, without any resistance, 
 mean and treacherous under temptation. If she 
 had the cultivated conscience which the Catholic 
 has, even when he is not naturally good, and 
 which supplies the place of natural high-minded- 
 ness, she would have hesitated before the spec- 
 tacle of her own baseness. 
 
 For noble aims, she had the " society " standards 
 of her town ; for the confessional, the gossip and 
 scandal of a circle of women who were as petty
 
 48 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 as they were unrefined ; for great literature, the 
 popular novel. Eleanor's example had brought 
 out the best of her for a time ; she was rather 
 afraid of Eleanor, and she had hidden the worst. 
 It must be admitted that her husband had not 
 elevated her ; she might have improved him : he 
 was perhaps capable of it. To be well dressed, to 
 outshine their neighbors, to be amused, were the 
 only aims they had ; and Laura did not care for 
 anything higher. 
 
 Marriage, in her case, had proved a delusion. 
 She had expected ease, and even luxury, and the 
 avoidance of all irksome duties ; besides, she had 
 no idea of the value of money, by which these 
 things are bought. The future life had no attrac- 
 tion for her ; it was too far off ; she was not sure 
 whether she believed in it or not ; at any rate, she 
 realized that she must have money to enjoy this. 
 She was the product of a false and systemless 
 education. There were many women like her in 
 Redwood, and she was not the worst of them. In 
 her earlier life her ideals had been sentimental ; 
 now she had no ideals at all. If she had been 
 taught to believe in the existence of hell, it might 
 have kept her from many sins she committed. As 
 it was, the vague religion of sweetness and light 
 which she heard occasionally preached had no 
 effect on her life. She had the desire to appear 
 young as long as possible, and to be, as she 
 d it, in the social swim.
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 49 
 
 After a time Belinda came back, flushed with 
 triumph. " I tell you," she said, " I shall have 
 things in ship-shape by to-morrow night. There 
 ain't a woman in town that won't envy my supper. 
 Not but what I feel my sacrifice for I've got to 
 give up Mr. Stokes' meeting for it ; but then, I 
 know that if anything went wrong in this house 
 I'd be blamed for it. And now, Mrs. Bayard, what 
 will you do for the Kindergarten ? '' 
 
 Mrs. Bayard smiled. " Come, Belinda, let us 
 understand each other. You know I can't excite 
 much interest in a Kindergarten for the Africans. 
 People might give them Bibles or clothes, but a 
 Kindergarten seems quite too luxurious." 
 
 " You want to back out ? " cried Belinda, grimly. 
 " Give me that letter, then." 
 
 " Not at all," said Mrs. Bayard ; " I want you 
 to be reasonable. There was a time when Bap- 
 tists and Methodists would send money anywhere 
 and for anything, if the name of the heathen 
 were mentioned ; but times have changed. And, 
 besides, what's the use of converting the heathen ? 
 The Andover people say they'll get to heaven 
 anyhow, and nobody believes in hell. The truth 
 is, Mr. Stokes can't make much headway with any 
 such absurd idea as a Kindergarten for Africans." 
 
 "Why not?" asked Belinda. "If people will 
 give money for sending Bibles to Eye-talians 
 that can't read, why won't they help the poor 
 African child? "
 
 50 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICE DESMOND. 
 
 " My dear Belinda, they will help the African 
 child, but not the Kindergartens. Mr. Stokes 
 made a mistake in starting that movement. Why, 
 we haven't even a Kindergarten for white children 
 in Redwood." 
 
 Belinda eyed Mrs. Bayard doubtfully. The 
 truth was that she had accepted the Kindergar- 
 ten scheme on the authority of her director, Mr. 
 Stokes. Mr. Stoker was studying for the minis- 
 try, and he was a great authority among the peo- 
 ple of Belinda's church. 
 
 " We've got to do something," she said. " The 
 Methodists are ahead of us now in church work, 
 and we've got to do something." 
 
 "The Kindergarten will not work. Besides, 
 people are rather tired of the heathen, particular!} 
 as the ministers are all saying that everybody wil 
 be saved anyhow." 
 
 " Well, they won't," snapped Belinda. 
 
 " I don't know, I haven't any infallible Mr. 
 Stokes to tell me ; but it is bad business for people 
 interested in foreign missions to say so. I remem- 
 ber a time when Africa was all the rage, and any 
 entertainment for any kind of a pagan was sure to 
 succeed. Now, as you have been so kind as to 
 give me this letter, I tell you what I will do. 
 I'll start a concert as soon as the Minuet of the 
 Nations is over, to help Mr. Stokes through his 
 last two years at college. He can't go on, simply 
 because he hasn't the money."
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 51 
 
 Belinda's eyes brightened. "He is a good 
 young man. And if you think we can't manage 
 the Kindergarten, that will do just as well. I 
 don't care what we do, so Mr. Stokes is in it." 
 
 " We'll talk of that later. And now, how did 
 you get this note ? " 
 
 "Didn't I tell you? Mrs. Desmond let it fall 
 one day, and I picked it up. I didn't trouble 
 much about it. I thought it was only one of the 
 Waldron ways, Clarissa was full of ' ways.' I 
 believe she read too many novels. And now, 
 Laury, I never ^aid much against you, and I want 
 you to stick to your promise. If you and some 
 more ladies of Redwood take up Mr. Stokes, he's 
 made, I know that. I want you to promise 
 now, for the Judge will be in soon ; he is writing 
 a paper for some . law magazine, and he always 
 comes home at half-past two o'clock. I don't 
 know that I was right to give you that note, but 
 I didn't think it made much difference. And 
 you seemed to want to know about the Desmonds ; 
 and every scrap counts, you know, sometimes." 
 
 " How would you like young Desmond to marry 
 Eleanor ? " 
 
 " Law sakes ! How foolish you do talk. The 
 Judge would never consent to it. Why, he is the 
 most prominent man in Redwood, and Patrick 
 Desmond is nobody. The idea ! " 
 
 Laura made no reply. Eleanor, then, must
 
 52 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 know of some mysterious relationship of her 
 mother with the Desmonds. There was nothing 
 in the supposition that Eleanor was sentimentally 
 interested in Desmond; she must dismiss that. 
 The question now was how to use this note to the 
 best advantage. She wanted time to think. 
 
 " I'll wait for Eleanor. Count on me in the 
 Stokes matter," she said to Belinda. 
 
 "I do say," Belinda remarked, leaving the 
 room, " that Eleanor Redwood has her faults ; but 
 if a match could be made between her and Mr. 
 Stokes, I wouldn't object. She has the money 
 and he has the brains ; though I must say she's too 
 high-flown for a minister's wife." 
 
 Mi's. Bayard did not hear her. She went to the 
 window and looked out at the lawn, splendid in 
 the just departing glory of noonday. The scene 
 did not refresh her as it had refreshed Eleanor. 
 In fact, she did not see it. The tulips glowed in 
 vain for her, and the soft green turf might have 
 been snowed under for all she cared, A viciously 
 selfish habit of mind, never resisted, had gradually 
 blinded her to all in the world that did not directly 
 concern herself. 
 
 She twirled the note in her fingers, and asked 
 herself over and over again what it meant. Had the 
 Redwoods and the Desmonds exchanged children, 
 as the custom of the melodramatic stage often 
 demands ? Laura shrugged her shoulders at this ;
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 53 
 
 and yet, she said to herself, nothing was more 
 probable in real life than the improbable. At her 
 age and with her opportunities, there was no 
 scandal in Redwood for many years back of which 
 she did not know. She had never heard of any 
 quarrel in the Judge's household, although Mrs. 
 Redwood had been generally pronounced " queer." 
 She knit her brows. What could it mean? 
 Anything ? Yes, there must be something behind 
 it all ; for there was Eleanor's evident interest in 
 Patrick Desmond. 
 
 Again she applied herself to the consideration 
 of the worn, yellow piece of paper, written in a 
 nervous, undecided hand. It could only mean 
 that somebody had forced Mrs. Redwood to 
 exchange her child for the child of another. She 
 could not avoid feeling how preposterous such a 
 supposition was. And the conclusion that Eleanor 
 Redwood was really Mrs. Desmond's daughter, 
 and Patrick Desmond the son of Judge Redwood, 
 seemed even more preposterous. Again and again 
 she read the letter. Again and again she asked 
 herself what could be the motive for such an 
 exchange. How could it have been accomplished, 
 and who could have forced Mrs. Redwood to make 
 it? The Judge? But why? 
 
 The more Mrs. Bayard thought of the complica- 
 tion, the more unreal it seemed to become. At any 
 rate, here were the words written by Judge Red'
 
 54 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 wood's late wife. The question was, How could 
 they be profitably utilized? The Judge would 
 not want such a note to remain in the hands of a 
 person outside of his own family. Would he buy 
 the letter? 
 
 At this question a gleam of her better self 
 played over Laura's mind. Vanity, frivolity, 
 scepticism, the outcome of the false philosophy of 
 her social life, had not entirely destroyed all her 
 womanliness. The Judge had been her hero when 
 she was a little girl. He had petted her, he had 
 told her stories ; in fact, he had made her share 
 all the amusements of his daughter, amusements 
 which had been more costly than her own people 
 could afford. She had no memories of him but 
 pleasant memories. How could she dare to 
 attempt to bargain with him for a letter which, 
 as an honorable woman, even if unbound by the 
 ties of gratitude, she ought gladly restore to him ? 
 
 The vision of her hopeless debts, and the future 
 which depended on the payment of those debts, 
 arose before her. She must have money. " Every- 
 body for himself." How often had she heard 
 that quoted in a society where business meant a 
 pagan disregard of every right except that of 
 getting a certain amount of money from every 
 human being with whom a man had "business 
 relations." She said to herself that she would 
 in a few minutes be in business relations with
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 55 
 
 Judge Redwood. She called to her mind all the 
 similar situations in the novels she had read ; she 
 walked over to the long mirror between the back 
 windows and tried to assume the attitude of a 
 glittering adventuress. She took off her glove to 
 show the half a dozen rings on her fingers, with 
 that theatrical taste which had been cultivated in 
 her by much reading of the current novels. 
 There was such a mixture of falseness and reality 
 in her mind that she could not divide one from 
 the other. She flashed her hand before the glass, 
 with the diamonds glittering in her rings and the 
 note held between her thumb and fingers. She 
 felt for the moment like a bold, bad adventuress 
 of the popular romances. 
 
 A key turned in the lock ; the Judge crossed 
 the hall and entered the room. He was as genial 
 and pleasant-looking as usual. 
 
 "Ah! Laura," he said, shaking hands. "How 
 young you look. And I am sure you were just 
 saying so to yourself. Before the glass, eh ? I 
 shouldn't have come in here, but I wanted to find 
 Eleanor. I must leave for Eaglescliff at 2:50. Is 
 she at home ? " 
 
 " I am waiting for her," Mrs. Bayard answered. 
 
 "I wish you would tell her to have my bag 
 packed and to send it up by the 4:30. I haven't 
 time to wait for it now. You young people will 
 not miss me at Eleanor's party to-morrow night.
 
 56 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 Tell her I'll be back the day after to-morrow. 
 Important case." 
 
 " Judge," said Mrs. Bayard, nervously, " you can 
 spare five minutes. I want to talk to you about 
 this this note." 
 
 The Judge raised his eyes in surprise to Mrs. 
 Bayard's face. He took the note from her ex- 
 tended hand. His face became grave. 
 
 " Where did you get this ? not from Mrs. 
 Desmond ? " 
 
 " No," she stammered ; " I found it in an old 
 box of letters." 
 
 "You are a good girl, Laura," he said. All the 
 buoyancy had left his face. " You are a good 
 girl, you always were ; though I have thought 
 of late that your way of life was spoiling you. 
 Ah, my dear," he added, with a sigh, as he laid 
 the little piece of paper, which he tenderly 
 smoothed with his hand, within the leaves of his 
 note-book, " if after the death of one we love we 
 could not go back to the best in that dear one's 
 life, and forget the worst, what consolation could 
 be left us." Then moved, perhaps, by a look 
 in Mrs. Bayard's eyes, the Judge continued : 
 " Clarissa was the best of wives and mothers. She 
 was as good and truthful as her daughter, and you 
 know and love her daughter. I am glad this fell 
 into your hands ; I am sure that you, the dear 
 friend of our family, will not ask for an explana- 
 tion that would be very painful."
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 57 
 
 Mrs. Bayard did not speak. Now was her time 
 to declare that she was poor ; that her husband 
 would not pay her debts, that she needed money. 
 But the simple dignity of the Judge moved her. 
 She murmured something; she heard the front 
 door open ; there was a little rustle in the hall, 
 and Eleanor, flushed and hurried, entered. 
 
 " O papa," she said, " they told me at the office 
 that 3 r ou had gone. And you will miss my 
 Coffee. Oh ! do stay, dear." 
 
 " I can't, Eleanor. There kiss me. The 
 buggy is waiting. Good-by." 
 
 He was off. 
 
 " Why, what is the matter with papa ? He 
 doesn't look like himself." 
 
 Laura gave no answer. Eleanor stood at the 
 window for an instant, a vague feeling of alarm 
 possessing her. She caught sight of the note-book 
 he had forgotten to put in his pocket. The buggy 
 passed the window, her father waving his hand 
 at her ; she held up the book to him, and as she 
 did so the faded note in her mother's writing 
 fluttered to the carpet. She had caught it before 
 Mrs. Bayard could move toward it. The buggy 
 had gone. Eleanor glanced at the paper. 
 
 " I wonder if this book is important to papa " 
 The words died on her lips. She saw the signa- 
 ture, " Clarissa Redwood," and read the words in 
 the writing she loved to see.
 
 58 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 Laura watched her eagerly. Mortification at 
 her failure at the critical moment in the rdle of 
 adventuress had been merged into curiosity. 
 Eleanor stood with her face to the window. She 
 did not speak until Mrs. Bayard had broken the 
 silence. 
 
 " I fancy I had better go, Nora. I came to see 
 Belinda about her church work." 
 
 "If you must go " Eleanor did not finish 
 the sentence. She turned toward Laura, her eyes 
 full of tears. " Oh ! I am so unhappy, Laura." 
 
 Mrs. Bayard took her hand tenderly and kissed 
 it. " Tell me all." 
 
 " No," Eleanor answered, "no I have 
 nothing to tell. Perhaps I had better go to my 
 room and rest." 
 
 On this hint, Mrs. Bayard went. She knew 
 that there had gradually widened a gulf between 
 her and her friend. She saw now that the gulf 
 could be bridged only by a heart, and she felt that 
 she was heartless.
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 59 
 
 V. 
 
 A daffodil upon his breast, 
 
 And hope within his heart, 
 He felt the world was at its best, 
 
 And bade dark care depart. 
 
 Old Ballad. 
 
 IN spite of her anxiety and unhappiness, 
 Eleanor contrived to neglect none of the details 
 of her coming social function. At her age it 
 requires very immediate pain to make one fail to 
 get any possible pleasure out of the present. 
 And Eleanor was of a temperament which could 
 concentrate itself on the present very intensely. 
 
 Belinda was too intent on the task of making 
 the lives of her assistants a burden, to think 
 much about the note she had given Mrs. Bayard 
 in her impulsive wish to win that young woman 
 over to an interest in the Kindergarten. Never- 
 theless, she had a vague uneasiness about it ; she 
 had meant it as a sop to Mrs. Bayard's evident 
 curiosity about the Desmonds nothing more. 
 Belinda had no desire to give her employer 
 trouble; she had acted on an impulse, which she 
 afterward regretted. It had not occurred to her 
 that Mrs. Redwood's " nonsense " could make 
 more than a passing ripple of mischief. 
 
 Eleanor began to be somewhat nervous as the 
 hour for the assembly drew near. In Redwood
 
 60 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 chaperons were unheard of. Young girls roved 
 everywhere at will ; and the young girl who did 
 not take the most prominent part in all the 
 social functions in which her family was con- 
 cerned was looked on as a poor sort of a creature. 
 Eleanor had a natural delicacy which prevented 
 her from taking all the privileges which the 
 etiquette of Redwood permitted her ; still she 
 thought it entirely proper that she should do the 
 honors of her father's house without the help of 
 any older woman. But, as she waited for the 
 guests, she heartily wished that her father were 
 at home. This would have seemed very absurd 
 to most of the Redwood young people in 
 "society," to whom fathers and mothers were 
 social encumbrances when amusement was in 
 question. But the Judge was Eleanor's all, and 
 she loved him so much that a day's absence 
 from him was a great trial to her. Besides, this 
 Coffee had been really put back until the evening 
 in order that it might not be what the Judge 
 called a "hen party." 
 
 Eleanor could have conducted this without a 
 tremor, but the prospect of entertaining the men 
 bothered her. Would they want to smoke in the 
 parlor ? Should she hand them cigars ? Would 
 they stand in the doorways and talk among 
 themselves? Would they dance, if it were pro- 
 posed? Would Deacon Krembs and the other
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 61 
 
 church members leave the house if a dance were 
 begun ? She was sure of the Episcopalians ; their 
 minister did not object to taking a turn himself ; 
 but she was afraid that the elder Methodists and 
 Baptists might not like it ; she was quite sure 
 the younger ones would. But if she did not have 
 a dance, what could she do with them all ? Danc- 
 ing was the only substitute for conversation she 
 could think of. Cards were, of course, impossible. 
 
 " Why can't you have kissing games ? Church 
 members are used to them. Mr. Stokes mightn't 
 like dancing I do think it's improper myself ; 
 but I am sure Copenhagen needn't offend the 
 most God-fearin'," Belinda said, as she pulled 
 Eleanor about in an ecstasy of fussiness, by way 
 of assisting at her toilet. 
 
 " They're vulgar," said Eleanor. 
 
 Belinda sniffed. " But they're not sinful, like 
 dancin'," she said. " Sin ain't nothin' to some 
 people, providing they are in the fashion. And I 
 hear there is a Romanist coming. A fine time 
 he'll have, laughing over the whole thing with 
 his priests in the confession boxes. He'll think 
 that we're as bad as he is. I declare if I was 
 quite sure that the jelly in my feather-cake was 
 all right, I'd leave the house this minute." 
 
 " Oh ! do be quiet, Belinda," Eleanor said, 
 pinning a little pearl brooch in the high neck of 
 her white silk gown. " Oh ! what shall I do with
 
 62 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 them all ? If there were only somebody to call 
 the figures." 
 
 The gas was lit all over the house. Eleanor 
 grew very nervous between anxiety and timidity. 
 And then the thought that Patrick Desmond 
 was to be among her guests was a constant under- 
 current to her other thoughts. It was a deep and 
 ominous bass below the light treble of discordant 
 anxieties. 
 
 The musicians had come ; they were stationed 
 at the top of the staircase. Eleanor's heart almost 
 stopped beating as she drew on her gloves. In 
 a moment more she would have to decide every- 
 thing that was not yet decided. Oh ! why did not 
 Laura Bayard come ? She would know all about 
 the cigars. Eleanor went downstairs, and the 
 frourfrou of the soft silk of her gown gave her 
 courage. After all, there was pleasure in being 
 well dressed. She stood before the tall mirror in 
 the back parlor, and looked at the reflected rooms 
 with satisfaction. Smilax was wreathed every- 
 where with carnations, and there were great vases 
 of red tulips. The dining-room and sitting-room 
 on the other side of the hall, had been arranged 
 for the possible dance. Eleanor examined them : 
 they were satisfactory. 
 
 Suddenly a pang shot through her heart. These 
 were not hers, but Patrick Desmond's ; and she 
 was not in her own home at all, but in his. The
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 63 
 
 thought was too hideous ; she felt that she could 
 almost laugh at it. There must be some explana- 
 tion of her mother's note, some explanation of 
 the mysterious words her mother had once spoken 
 to her. How well she remembered those words 
 " You are enjoying the birthright of another. 
 Nothing here is really yours." These words had 
 saddened her life for the last few years. And yet, 
 with the singular reticence that keeps words that 
 should be spoken back from the lips of those near- 
 est to each other, she had never dared to ask her 
 mother the meaning of them. And her mother 
 had added : "Young Desmond should be in your 
 place." This all came back to her now ; but she 
 cast it away. Well, the hour was hers ; she would 
 enjoy it. The smilax and flowers, the music, the 
 new gown, they at least were hers for a time. 
 She would be Eleanor Redwood for one night at 
 least, even if to-morrow she were cast out a beggar. 
 Patrick Desmond was much more agitated in 
 mind than he was willing to admit. His mother 
 irritated him by frankly announcing that she con- 
 sidered that Miss Redwood's Coffee was a veritable 
 epoch in his life. Desmond resented it perhaps 
 because he himself, in his secret heart, regarded it 
 as something of an epoch. Mrs. Desmond, not 
 knowing that the Judge scarcely recollected that 
 she still lived in Redwood, was loud in praises of 
 the fact that he remembered her birthday every
 
 64 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 year. Last year he had sent her the hyacinths, the 
 year before a beautiful Maltese cat, Mrs. Des- 
 mond went on, not knowing that these things had 
 been done by Eleanor, because her father had 
 once told her to remember Mrs. Desmond on a 
 certain day in each year, and then forgotten all 
 about it himself. 
 
 Patrick hated all this; he was full of resent- 
 ment against the Redwoods ; and, to escape his 
 mother's talk, he went up to his room. He had 
 come home early ; he had some hours before him, 
 and various questions began to trouble him. He 
 was too proud to ask Benson Eastwood about the 
 etiquette of Redwood society ; and now, alone in 
 his room, with the great function appallingly near 
 him, he wished he had secured a few points. Among 
 some ancient books in the attic was the " Gentle- 
 man's Own Book of Deportment," printed at 
 London in 1815. Into this stained and dog-eared 
 little volume Patrick plunged. The compendium 
 was founded on Lord Chesterfield's letters, with 
 notes doubtless by Beau Brummel. " A gentle- 
 man," Patrick was informed, " always takes an ice 
 at twelve o'clock, particularly in Paris, where the 
 ices are particularly good." After this he turned 
 the leaves disconsolately, until he learned that 
 " gentlemen in England never plunge their knives 
 into their mouths. One should remember the re- 
 mark of the lady of quality on Dr. Johnson's (the
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICE: DESMOND. 65 
 
 great lexicographer) putting a knife between his 
 lips. ' I thought,' she exclaimed, ' that the wretch 
 would cut his head in two ! ' He learned also 
 that buff waistcoats were no longer the mode for 
 evening wear in London. Benson Eastwood, as a 
 monitor of fashion, was entirely out of the ques- 
 tion. Benson was a good fellow; but he had a 
 habit of laughing, and he might possibly get some 
 amusement from the bewilderment of a novice 
 about to enter society. 
 
 He thought of Mr. Stokes, with whom he was 
 slightly acquainted ; but, on consideration, he came 
 to the conclusion that Mr. Stokes, who wore a 
 straw hat and a linen dust-coat for nine months of 
 the year, was hardly the person to modernize Beau 
 Brummel's maxims. There was Jack Conlon. Jack 
 was an ecclesiastical student, who had come back 
 from the seminary in New York to remain with 
 his father, who was slowly dying of consumption. 
 And there was old Dr. Talbot. But Dr. Talbot 
 lived too far away. Desmond resolved to consult 
 Jack. He took his hat, and calling out to his 
 mother that he would be back in five minutes, 
 went down to the river. Almost on the very 
 brink, in a green oasis not yet invaded by fac- 
 tories, the Conlons lived. 
 
 Desmond found Jack in the garden, smoking 
 a long pipe. He had a clerical look already. He 
 was tall, rather lank, with close-cut hair, a long
 
 66 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 black coat. His face, well shaven, was good- 
 humored and kindly ; yet with a slight twinkle in 
 the eyes that betrayed a sense of humor. 
 
 " Halloo, Pat ! " he said. " Smoke ? " 
 
 " No time," Desmond answered. " I wish I 
 had," he added, with a groan. " I've got to go 
 through a terrible ordeal to-night, and I want you 
 to give me a point or two about it." 
 
 "What ordeal?" asked Jack Conloii. "And 
 what points?" 
 
 " Oh ! I am going into society ; Judge Redwood 
 is having a party, and he has asked me." 
 
 "And you don't show a proper degree of ela- 
 tion," said Jack, smiling and drawing at his pipe. 
 " Just look at the opaline in that sunset. Do you 
 know, I think I'd take to poetry, if I were sure 
 the authorities at the seminary wouldn't find it 
 out. They can't endure poetry in a priest, unless 
 he disguises it as prose. See how that opaline 
 color changes to pale blue, 
 
 1 The clouds that gather round the setting sun 
 Do take a sober coloring from an eye ' " 
 
 " O Jack, stop ! What kind of clothes ought I 
 to wear?" 
 
 " All you have," said Jack, pushing some new 
 tobacco into his pipe ; " that's the rule in Red- 
 wood. A red flannel shirt will not do. You 
 might let a suspicion of one show below your coat
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 67 
 
 sleeves, just to let people know you are rich 
 enough to have such a garment; but too much 
 display is considered vulgar." 
 
 Desmond made a gesture of impatience. " I 
 haven't much time." 
 
 " I don't know why you come to me, then." 
 
 " You've been in New York, and you ought to 
 know about these things better than I do." 
 
 " Of course," said Jack, " we always dressed 
 for dinner at the seminary, and wore dressing- 
 gowns all the morning. But really, Pat," he said, 
 changing his tone, " I don't know what you ought 
 to wear. It wouldn't do to lounge into Judge 
 Redwood's in a light-colored coat. I know that, 
 though some of these barbarians will probably do 
 it. I honestly think," he said, with a sudden 
 inspiration, "you ought to get yourself up as if 
 you were going to a funeral." 
 
 Desmond was silent. The wisdom of this ad- 
 vice gradually became apparent to him. 
 
 " Do you know whether they dance at these 
 things or not ? And shall I have to wear gloves ? 
 And I wish I could back out." 
 
 " Don't back out," said Jack, gravely. "Clothe 
 yourself in your right mind, and be as nice as you 
 can. Doubtless these people mean to be kind; 
 and as you are probably the first specimen of the 
 Irish-American if there be any such creature 
 who has penetrated into the sanctity of Redwood
 
 68 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 society, go forth and show your blood. Don't 
 worry about your clothes. You may rest assured 
 that half Redwood, which is just beginning to 
 be civilized, will be as uneasy as you are." 
 
 " Where did you learn all this ? " asked Patrick, 
 somewhat comforted. 
 
 " From books on Moral Philosophy," laughed 
 his companion. 
 
 In the meantime the postman, who had two 
 " deliveries " in Redwood, had left a letter for 
 Mrs. Desmond. It was postmarked " New York." 
 It was enclosed in a large Nile-green envelope, 
 heavily scented with heliotrope, and ornamented 
 with a monogram in red and gold. It was in 
 answer to one written the week before by Mrs. 
 Desmond. The mother had seen for some time 
 that her son needed a change ; every day she 
 feared that he would announce an intention of 
 leaving Redwood. She had a friend in New York, 
 her sister's own daughter, who had made a great 
 match, and to her Mrs. Desmond had applied. 
 And indeed this niece of hers had every reason 
 to be grateful ; for never had Mrs. Desmond re- 
 fused an application for help from this sister when 
 her children were small and their needs many. 
 The Nile-green envelope and the gorgeous mon- 
 ogram, which symbolized "N. G.," marvellously 
 entwisted, lay 'beside Desmond's plate when he 
 "eturned from his visit to Jack Conlon. There
 
 TEX SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 69 
 
 was a look of mild triumph in Mrs. Desmond's 
 eyes as she called his attention to it. If Patrick 
 must leave her, it would be well that he should 
 go to " his own." The letter ran as follows : 
 
 THE GRAND WINDSOR, HARLEM, 
 
 April 6, 18 
 
 DEAR AUNT : I hasten to answer your epistle of the 
 30th, hoping to find you in good health. My husband, 
 the Hon. Miles Galligan, will soon need a secretary, and 
 when I received your letter I at once recommended 
 Patrick. As we move in the best society, we shall ex- 
 pect him to be up to the mark in every way. I shall 
 leave New York with my nurse and child, on June 1, 
 for a tour in the country, ending at Saratoga, where 
 many of my husband's friends meet every summer. If 
 Patrick could be here by the first of May, it would suit 
 us very well. The salary will depend very much on a 
 bill which my husband is trying to have passed. This 
 bill will give each overworked member an extra clerk. 
 And if you could see how they work at their commit- 
 tees, sometimes up all night. Little Miley is a fine 
 boy, and I am sure he will take to his cousin, though 
 he is only two years old. The Longworthys stuck-up 
 creatures, I always hated that Esther ! are in Europe. 
 I wrote to you about them once ; at any rate you have 
 seen their names in the New York papers. If Patrick 
 drinks, you needn't send him. 
 
 Yours to command, 
 
 NELLIE GALLIGAN. 
 
 Desmond laughed scornfully. " What does she 
 take me for ? ' If Patrick drinks ' "
 
 70 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 " It may be a great chance," said his mother, 
 nervously. "And Nellie's made a great match 
 entirely. She says her husband is one of the 
 greatest statesmen of the day." 
 
 " And so you want me to go away, mother ? " 
 he said, with a touch of tenderness in his voice. 
 
 " God knows I don't, dear," she answered, 
 tremulously ; " but if you must go, I hope you'll 
 go among your own flesh and blood. I haven't 
 seen my sister for many years not since she 
 made a trip down here with little Nellie. We 
 separated at Castle Garden; she stayed in New 
 York and married ; and I came here, a young 
 girl, with a family that was going farther West." 
 
 " I don't like this letter," said Patrick, sniffing 
 at the musk-laden envelope. " The woman writes 
 like an upstart." 
 
 " Oh, no don't be too severe ! " said Mrs. 
 Desmond, anxious to defend " her own." " She 
 has a good heart and she means to be kind." 
 
 Patrick made no answer ; it was time to pre- 
 pare for the " epoch." He took a candle and 
 went upstairs. His mother fluttered about the 
 foot of the staircase, anxious to see the young 
 Apollo reappear. She had provided a pair of 
 white kid gloves, and a nosegay for his button- 
 hole. At last he came, his rather long hair very 
 much brushed, and the ends of his mustache 
 curled upward. His frock-coat was open in front,
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 revealing a white satin tie, a black waistcoat, and 
 black broadcloth trousers. The white gloves made 
 his hands appear large, and he felt uncomfortable. 
 Three large hothouse daffodils and a spray of 
 fern adorned the left lapel of his coat. He car- 
 ried in his hand a Derby hat, and he said to his 
 mother : 
 
 " Am I all right ? " 
 
 The high collar almost cut his chin in two, the 
 gloves were obnoxiously tight, and the bunch of 
 daffodils made him feel foolish, but he forgot 
 all these things as he saw the tears in his mother's 
 eyes. 
 
 " Ah, dear," she said in her soft voice, " you're 
 the image of your father at your age." 
 
 He kissed her, and passed out ; she looked 
 after him, standing at the door. It was a happy 
 moment in Mrs. Desmond's life.
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 VI. 
 
 . . . They freeze, they petrify me. They may talk of a 
 burning mountain, or some such bagatelle. But to me a mod- 
 est woman dressed out in all her finery is the most tremendous 
 object in the whole creation. Marlow, in " She Stoops to Con- 
 quer" 
 
 DESMOND paused a moment before entering 
 Judge Redwood's house. It was a large, rambling 
 structure of wood, built after no particular plan. 
 It was so thoroughly lighted within that every 
 window stood out of the darkness with startling 
 distinctness. A row of Chinese lanterns hung 
 from the roof of the porch. The house was set 
 back somewhat from the street ; and on the lawn, 
 among the tulip beds, white lanterns made an odd 
 effect, giving an air of unreality to the common- 
 place surroundings. A buggy drove up to the 
 garden gate, and then a cab. Desmond saw a 
 flutter of white dresses, and then one of the dark 
 shadows that accompanied the party in the cab 
 came toward him. 
 
 " How do you do, Desmond ? " said the voice 
 of the shadow. " I was afraid I should miss you. 
 Come in." 
 
 It was Benson Eastwood. Desmond followed 
 him up the pathway between the two lines of 
 nodding tulips. The hall reached, Benson East- 
 wood presented him to one of the hooded and 
 cloaked ladies in white.
 
 THE SUCCESS Of 1 PATRICK DESMOND. 73 
 
 " Mr. Desmond, my sister Rena." 
 
 Desmond bowed. The young lady murmured 
 something, and disappeared upstairs. Desmond 
 caught sight of moving colors in the parlor and 
 the wreaths of smilax. Belinda, almost covered 
 by a long white apron, led the way to the Judge's 
 study, at the end of the hall. There was a great 
 assemblage of hats and coats. A dressing-case 
 had been moved into this apartment, on which 
 was placed a large ivory-backed brush and a silver 
 comb. These articles reposed on a large red 
 plush cushion. Patrick felt a thrill of disgust 
 when Benson Eastwood passed these sacred im- 
 plements over his head. It was wrong to use 
 things evidently intended for show. Benson was 
 short, stout, blond, with florid cheeks, and a 
 Prince Albert coat that had evidently been made 
 
 m 
 
 for him before he had come to weigh over one 
 hundred and ninety. His necktie was a different 
 red from his cheeks, but still very red. A red 
 coral pin in the necktie further emphasized the 
 redness of his complexion. He turned to exam- 
 ine Patrick critically. 
 
 " You'll do," he said, adjusting a red rose in 
 the button of his coat. " But you must take off 
 those gloves ; nobody wears gloves in Redwood." 
 
 Patrick gladly complied with this advice, sigh- 
 ing with relief in the thought that he was at last 
 in the hands of somebody that " knew." Benson
 
 74 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 took another glance at him ; but he made no fur- 
 ther suggestions, for several friends came into the 
 room. Nearly all these gentlemen wore black 
 coats of various shapes ; but they seemed to have 
 devoted immense thought to their neckties, which 
 were all of the flamboyant order ; and in the 
 centre of each there was a diamond, large or 
 small, mostly large. 
 
 When Benson and his friends had exchanged 
 greetings and talked a little " shop," Patrick was 
 led upstairs, to be given in charge of the fair 
 Rena. 
 
 " You'll look after my sister, you know," the 
 brother said, with an engaging wink. " I've got 
 to look after some other fellow's." 
 
 Desmond was expected to laugh at this, but he 
 was too nervous to speak. He found himself in 
 the centre of a group of ladies, attired in pink 
 and blue and black, who stood chatting in the 
 corridor; he-felt as if he had dropped into a kalei- 
 doscope. He began to understand Goldsmith's 
 hero's opinion, that the most impressive and op- 
 pressive thing on earth was a gentlewoman attired 
 in her best. 
 
 After a while Rena Eastwood, florid and blond 
 like her brother, but not so stout, and with a 
 knowledge of the application of grammatical rules 
 which he did not possess, fluttered out of the room 
 reserved for the ladies. She was a vision of white 
 lace and ribbons.
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 75 
 
 "Mr. Desmond, I believe?" she said, putting 
 a white-gloved hand softly on Patrick's arm. 
 " Didn't you say that I was to take Mr. Desmond 
 down, Benson ? " 
 
 " That's the ticket," cried Benson, as a tall 
 girl in yellow and black moved toward him. 
 
 Miss Eastwood's voice was dovelike ; she spoke 
 with a most fascinating drawl. She never said 
 " Yes " ; she always said " Ya-as," with the most 
 dulcet accent on the last syllable. And Desmond 
 was not happy. He began to ask himself how he 
 should get rid of her when he wanted to go. 
 They descended the stairs slowly, while the 
 orchestra played " The Sweet By and By," 
 Belinda having ordered this as a kind of atone- 
 ment for the dance music which she was told was 
 to follow. 
 
 " Isn't it funny how fond short men are of tall 
 girls ? " Rena warbled, as Patrick put his soul 
 into trying to avoid stepping on a long pink train 
 in front of him. " Isn't it funny ? " 
 
 Patrick did not know; and, not being accus- 
 tomed to the small dishonesties of society, he 
 could not give an opinion without having any. 
 
 " Now, our Beri is positively infatuated with 
 that Carrie Redfield. Isnt she awful?" 
 
 Patrick blushed ; how could he tell ? 
 
 " Oh, I do hope they have olives to-night 1 I 
 love olives ! "
 
 76 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 Patrick could not see his way clear either to 
 the hating of Miss Redfield or the loving of 
 olives. He wished the stairs were not so long, 
 and that the pink train would move faster. Miss 
 Eastwood prattled away, quite conscious of her 
 pretty gown, and anxious that everybody should 
 see her leading captive the handsomest man in 
 the room. 
 
 At last Desmond and she stepped in front of 
 the group in which their hostess stood. Eleanor 
 had stationed herself in front of the great mirror, 
 the frame of which was entirely covered with 
 smilax. Beside her was Laura Bayard, attired in 
 a bewildering arrangement of green and rose- 
 color ; and not far off was Mr. Bayard, a pale, 
 black-whiskered man, with a weak chin and a 
 narrow forehead. 
 
 Eleanor towered above everybody about her, 
 but "towered" is a bad word; for a young birch 
 or pine hardly towers, and she had all the grace 
 of a young tree. Desmond's native taste chose 
 her out of all present as the most distinguished 
 woman. Her simple white gown and her pearl 
 pin, in which had been caught a spray of arbutus, 
 made all the reds and blues and diamonds and 
 bunches of roses in the room seem vulgar. Miss 
 Eastwood presented Desmond to her and the 
 Bayards. She held out her hand and looked at 
 him with a strange interest in her eyes. Mrs.
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 77 
 
 Bayard was effusive, she was so happy, and 
 used the dovelike accent which was so great a 
 part of Miss Eastwood's social charm. Desmond 
 shook hands with her husband very coolly. He 
 had heard of that gentleman. 
 
 Desmond forgot his defiance as he looked at 
 Eleanor. She was a very stately creature and he 
 acknowledged to himself that it would be an 
 honor to pick up her glove, or to throw a cloak 
 in the mud before her, after the fashion of Sir 
 Walter Raleigh. Standing before her, Desmond 
 felt a sense of inferiority. 
 
 " I am sorry papa is not here to tell you how 
 glad he happy to see you, Mr. Eastwood. How 
 sweet of you to come, Miss Redfield ! " 
 
 A hot flush came to his cheek as he felt that he 
 had been pushed aside. He looked at Miss East- 
 wood to see how she took it ; but the young girl 
 seemed relieved. 
 
 " I do hate to stand that way thinking of things 
 to say," she said. " If that is a bowl of lemonade 
 over there, do take me to it. Some people have 
 claret punch at parties, but I think it is wicked. 
 Do you think that hard cider is wicked? Some 
 people do." 
 
 He almost wished he could drown the sweet 
 young creature in the bowl of lemonade ; he wanted 
 to hide himself in a corner where he could watch 
 Eleanor Redwood, and get away as soon as pos-
 
 78 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 sible. So this was amusement, this walking 
 about and trying to find something to say. He 
 wished he were back at home reading " The 
 Parnell Movement " to his dear old mother. 
 While Miss Eastwood drank a glass of iced 
 lemonade and chatted to two or three men near 
 her, Patrick felt, with a pang, that he had no 
 right where he was. He was in his real place 
 in the little house over the river, with the rag 
 carpet and the cook stove, and all the other 
 homely surroundings. His mother could have 
 no place here, how could he ? The flowers, the 
 gay frocks, the light, the music, made a new 
 world for him, in which he had no right. A little 
 later he lost this mood, which was at once one of 
 exaltation and abasement. But to-night Eleanor 
 was a princess of a finer mould than he, of another 
 race, as it were. " Let it be so," he said bitterly ; 
 " let it be so." He would go to New York, away 
 from all this brilliance, and remain with his own 
 people. 
 
 The clerk at the Howard House, who had the 
 largest diamond pin in the room, passed him with 
 a condescending nod. Dr. Talbot smiled be- 
 nignantly, and Mrs. Talbot waved her black 
 gloves which she never wore, and asked him 
 how his mother's throat was. The keeper of the 
 livery stable told Miss Eastwood just to give him 
 " the wink" when she wanted to go home; he'd
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 79 
 
 change his coat and drive her out in a jiffy. " And 
 don't forget, Rena," he added, " to keep a dance 
 for me." 
 
 Several people came to speak to Patrick, but 
 there was a general air of stiffness. Mr. and Mrs. 
 Bayard, who were usually seen apart, clung to- 
 gether until some of the men, encouraged by 
 Benson Eastwood, who had a way of making 
 himself at home, went into the Judge's study to 
 smoke. Patrick would have liked to follow them, 
 but Miss Eastwood held to him with a firm grasp. 
 He felt tongue-tied. It seemed to him that her 
 talk was too absurd to take literally, and yet 
 impossible to be considered metaphorically un- 
 less she were a chattering idiot. Inexperienced 
 as he was, he did not allow for the poor girl's 
 society manner. In ordinary life Miss Eastwood 
 was sensible enough. 
 
 After a time that young woman grew tired of 
 so unresponsive a partner and she excused herself 
 to take the arm of another amiable chatterer, 
 who had stood near her elbow for ten minutes, 
 bent on making Desmond feel that he was very 
 much "out" of social "swim," as he did not 
 understand any of the allusions made. 
 
 " Good-looking fellow," the second chatterer 
 said, as he passed Desmond. 
 
 " Oh, yes ! but so stupid," answered Miss East- 
 wood. " And I never could forgive his horrid 
 name ' Patrick.' It's just awfully vulgar."
 
 80 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 Desmond felt as if a flame had passed by him. 
 
 " I will make you respect it," he said, half-aloud, 
 with involuntary anger. Turning, the anger still 
 in his eyes, he saw Eleanor Redwood near him. 
 He saw at once that she had heard the speech and 
 his sotto-voce answer. There was sympathy in her 
 eyes not sympathy for him, he had sense enough 
 to see that; but the only sympathy sympathy 
 with him. 
 
 " Do you find it veiy dull, Mr. Desmond ? " she 
 said. " I couldn't come to talk to you before, 
 because a hostess has duties ; and as I am not cer- 
 tain what they are, I've been obliged to be very 
 careful. But there will be a dance after a while. 
 Ben Eastwood has agreed to call the figures. It 
 will come soon, too, for the Methodist minister, 
 dear Mr. Jamison, has just gone, and his people 
 don't mind dancing when he is out of the way." 
 
 Eleanor spoke clearly and directly, without a 
 particle of affectation. 
 
 " Why, they have begun already," she added, 
 as the fiddlers struck up the Lanciers. " As the 
 hostess, I suppose I may ask you to dance ? " 
 
 Patrick felt the charm of her manner and the 
 kindliness of her intention. Like most proud 
 people, he was sensitive ; and, in this instance, 
 the sensitiveness corrected the pride. Generally 
 it sets pride afire. 
 
 " But I don't dance," he said, with a smile. 
 " This is my first party."
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 81 
 
 " And you haven't enjoyed it." 
 
 " I am beginning to enjoy it," he answered, 
 smiling again ; and then, remembering that this 
 was rather an indifferent compliment to Miss 
 Eastwood, he stammered out : " That is, I enjoy 
 it just as much as anybody can enjoy, that is " 
 
 " It is a warm night," said Eleanor, apparently 
 not attending to what he said. " I am sure you 
 know many people here. I should like to have 
 smaller assemblies, but one must pay off one's 
 indebtedness. I have positively everybody here. 
 And in Redwood one must ask the town. If one 
 tried to draw a line one would soon be left alone." 
 
 Patrick, recalling his experience with Miss 
 Eastwood, thought that this might be a good 
 thing to do ; he, however, enjoyed the flattery of 
 being placed by implication among those who 
 could draw the line. 
 
 " Oh ! I almost forgot to speak about" the Minuet 
 of the Nations. The night has been fixed. It 
 will be the 5th of May. Mr. Eastwood spoke 
 about it, I think." 
 
 " Yes, but you know I can't dance ; and, be- 
 sides, I shall have to leave Redwood about the 1st. 
 I am going to New York." 
 
 The prospect of the Minuet of the Nations 
 decided him ; he would be the Hon. Miles Galli- 
 gau's secretary. 
 
 " And must you really go ? I am afraid it will 
 spoil our plans."
 
 82 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 " I am sorry," he said ; and for the moment lie 
 was sorry. A little persuasion and he would have 
 thrown over the " Honorable Miles." Eleanor 
 was not at all insolent and arrogant, and how 
 could he take on the haughty tone he had been 
 assuming all day in his thoughts ? Desmond had 
 a clear-cut, honest look, such as Perdita probably 
 noticed in Prince Florizel. Eleanor scrutinized 
 him with one of those quick glances in which 
 women are adept, while he turned his profile 
 toward her, as he made room for some guests to 
 pass. What did he know of the mystery ? Or did 
 he know it at all? He had not the air of pro- 
 prietorship he might have assumed under the 
 circumstances. 
 
 " And so this is your first party or Coffee, as 
 we have come to call these assemblies in Red- 
 wood? It's a very absurd name, I think ; though 
 you shall really have some coffee as soon as the 
 Lanciers is over. Do you think you will ever go 
 to another?" 
 
 " If you ask me," Patrick answered, recovering 
 his spirits. 
 
 "But you will be in New York. Tell me, how 
 does my party impress you ? " 
 
 " Everybody has an air of being very rich, veiy 
 contented and very stiff." 
 
 " The last must be my fault ; I am a poor 
 hostess. But if you think they are content, I am
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 83 
 
 somewhat relieved. I fancy they are not all very 
 rich ; but, on the whole, Redwood is a very pros- 
 perous place." 
 
 " I did not think so, Miss Redwood," Patrick 
 said, " until I read a new book by John Long- 
 worthy, on ' Poverty and Sin.' Of course I know 
 my own side of the river best, and some of us are 
 very poor there ; but no one is so wretched as 
 thousands are in New York or London." 
 
 " So you have read Long-worthy's ' Poverty and 
 Sin ' ? " said Eleanor, eagerly. " Papa had it, and 
 he told me that the author had studied the subject 
 by living in the slums of New York. I can hardly 
 believe that the awful things he says are true." 
 
 " I am afraid they are," Patrick said, much 
 interested ; " and if they are, we in Redwood 
 don't know what poverty is. I have been poor 
 all my life," he went on, reddening slightly ; " but 
 I have never suffered as the children of the poor 
 suffer in New York." 
 
 Eleanor looked at him with a startled glance. 
 " What would you do if somebody kept you poor 
 by enjoying what was rightly yours ? " 
 
 Patrick laughed. " I should claim it at once ; 
 for, above all things, I long to be rich." 
 
 "And does your mother long to be rich, too?" 
 
 " My mother? O, my mother is content. She 
 is very religious, you know ; she is a saint. To 
 make me happy, she would rejoice in the direst
 
 84 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 poverty. She is pious but of course you don't 
 understand that." 
 
 "I don't?" asked Eleanor, with a shade of 
 annoyance on her face. "I suppose Benson East- 
 wood told you that I am impious." 
 
 " Good gracious, no ! " cried Patrick, wishing 
 that he had learned by heart what he ought to 
 say before he entered society. " But you are not 
 a Catholic, as my mother is." 
 
 Eleanor made no reply. " Well," she said to 
 herself, " Catholics are bigoted and rude." Never- 
 theless Desmond's admiration for his mother above 
 all other women impressed her. 
 
 " I shall go to see your mother sometime," she 
 said. 
 
 It was Desmond's turn to start. He contrasted 
 what seemed to him the luxury around him with 
 the bareness of his own home. No, Eleanor Red- 
 wood must not have the opportunity of making 
 such a comparison. 
 
 A voice broke the short silence that succeeded 
 Eleanor's speech. 
 
 " I don't intend that you shall monopolize Mr. 
 Desmond," said Laura Bayard, in that affected 
 tone he had noticed in Miss Eastwood. " A lot 
 of people are asking for refreshments, Nora." 
 
 Eleanor exclaimed, " O Laura, I forgot ! " and 
 disappeared. 
 
 " Come, sit down," Mrs. Bayard said. " I want
 
 'fHE SUCCESS OP PATRICK DESMOND. 85 
 
 to talk to you. I heard you say a moment ago 
 that this was your first party. It seems to me 
 that you bear the strain with a great deal of 
 assurance. You seem to have got on famously." 
 
 Patrick took a chair near Mrs. Bayard. " It 
 must be my Irish blood, it carries me with 
 diffidence and timidity." His spirits were rising, 
 and he began to think that a Coffee was rather 
 pleasant. 
 
 " They are bringing in the little tables for the 
 refreshments, and I'll have to look for my hus- 
 band ; so I have just time to ask you whether you 
 would not like to be the owner of this house and 
 all that Judge Redwood has ? " 
 
 Mrs. Bayard did not notice that Belinda was in 
 the act of placing a little table about a foot behind 
 her chair. 
 
 " I do not know what you mean," began Patrick, 
 evidently embarrassed. 
 
 " Well, I know," she went on. " Everything 
 here can be yours if you want it. In fact, it is 
 yours by right already." 
 
 " You don't mean that " Patrick reddened to 
 the roots of his hair, and in his heart objurgated 
 for the thousandth time his habit of blushing. 
 
 " It's absurd, Mrs. Bayard. You must think I 
 am a fool 
 
 " Here comes Harry. Come to luncheon to- 
 morrow at the Howard House as usual, and I can 
 tell you what I mean."
 
 86 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 She snapped her tinseled fan at him, and, 
 turning, fairly ran into the arms of Belinda, who 
 pinched her arm viciously. 
 
 " Laury," she whispered, " if I knew what I 
 know now, you'd not have got hold of that letter. 
 Why, I thought you knew what it meant, your 
 mother did. .And I just gave you that to satisfy 
 your curiosity. I heard what you said to young 
 Desmond, and you've made a big mistake. Laury, 
 as sure as I live, you're a viper I "
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 87 
 
 VII. 
 
 " A touch of Nature " 
 
 DESMOND said good-by to Eleanor with a group 
 of other people who were taking their leave. She 
 scarcely noticed him, so occupied was she with 
 her duties as hostess. He was rather glad of 
 this : he wanted time to think ; and he felt that 
 he could not have spoken to her, after Mrs. Bay- 
 ard's hint, without embarrassment. 
 
 He walked hastily home. There was a light in 
 the parlor, and as he entered a slight rustle on 
 the stairs told him that his mother had been 
 waiting for him. He did not sleep as well as 
 usual. He was excited, restless. How pretty 
 the scene had been. How easy it was to change 
 eveiyday life into something beautiful, with 
 money. If he only had money, he said to him- 
 self, he could do anything. He was elated ; after 
 all, he had held his own. His manners were as 
 good and his manner as acceptable as those of 
 any man present ; he felt that he had kept his self- 
 respect and held the respect of the others. The 
 people on the Hill were really not so arrogant as 
 he had imagined them to be. There was only 
 one woman in the crowd who had been insolent. 
 He reddened again as he recalled snatches of talk 
 he had overheard.
 
 8 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 " Eleanor seems to be mixing people up," Mrs. 
 Howard Sykes had said. " I see that Desmond 
 young man from the Chair Factory here. The 
 Irish Catholics are really not all so low. We can 
 stand some of the men, but I do hope Eleanor will 
 not try to force their women on us." 
 
 Patrick bit his lip as he thought of this. The 
 remembrance of it obscured the pleasure he had 
 a moment before. What made the difference 
 between him and the people on the Hill, between 
 his mother and Mrs. Howard Sykes? Only 
 money ; so far as he could see, there was no other 
 power really recognized in Redwood. Why had 
 he feared that Eleanor Redwood would patronize 
 him ? It was not that he had felt she was more 
 intellectual or better in any way than he was. It 
 was because she had been surrounded by the ex- 
 ternals of comparative riches for some time. Even 
 the Bayards, Avhom he disliked involuntarily, had 
 a certain advantage over him in this respect. He 
 ground his teeth as he thought of it. What was 
 money, after all? Every fool seemed to be able 
 to make it. And yet when he stretched out his 
 empty hands into the darkness, he exclaimed with 
 shame that he was not one of these fools. 
 
 Then his thoughts returned to Judge Red- 
 wood's softly lighted rooms, and he contrasted 
 them with the interior of his mother's home. No, 
 he said to himself, Eleanor should not visit his
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 89 
 
 mother until he had provided a better place. He 
 knew that only a short time ago nearly all the 
 people on the Hill had been glad to shelter them- 
 selves under roofs even less pretentious than that 
 which sheltered him and his mother. But times 
 had changed ; Redwood soon forgot what it did 
 not see and what it preferred not to remember. 
 
 As the night wore on he still sat in the dark- 
 ness, thinking, thinking, trying to solve the social 
 problem that refused to be solved. Yes ; the Hill 
 people were more amiable than he had expected. 
 In spite of Rena Eastwood and Mrs. Howard 
 Sykes' speech, he had not felt like an outsider, 
 though the splendor and perfection of the assem- 
 bly had filled him with awe, notwithstanding his 
 effort to appear entirely unimpressed. 
 
 Mrs. Bayard's words came back to him with 
 startling distinctness. What could they mean? 
 Did they mean anything ? Desmond was not more 
 conceited than most young men of his age, and 
 for a moment it seemed to him that Eleanor Red- 
 wood might have become interested in him, and 
 that Mrs. Bayard had meant to encourage him. 
 But he cast this flitting thought aside, as unwor- 
 thy of him. He decided, however, not to go to 
 the Howard House for his dinner the next day. 
 He knew that Mrs. Bayard bore the reputation in 
 Redwood of having a delicate talent for making 
 mischief ; his instinct told him that it would not
 
 90 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 be proper for him to be seen in earnest conversa- 
 tion with her, as all Redwood knew that he had 
 met her only the night before. He would wait. 
 If his acquaintance with Eleanor Redwood should 
 progress, he would probably learn what Mrs. 
 Bayard meant. At any rate, he would never stoop 
 to discover the secret by underhand means. Who 
 would have believed that Eleanor Redwood, whom 
 some people laughed at for her pride and aristo- 
 cratic airs, was really so amiable and womanly ? 
 What a sincere and truthful face. What a 
 graceful air 
 
 When morning broke, his watchful mother 
 found Desmond asleep on a chair near the window, 
 with the daffodils, drooping now, still in his coat 
 buttonhole. She shook her head over it, and did 
 not awaken him. 
 
 Judge Redwood's house had a changed aspect 
 on the morning after the Coffee. The smilax and 
 roses did not seem as graceful or as appropriate 
 in the morning sunlight as they had seemed under 
 the gas of the night before. Bits of tissue-paper, 
 parts of the German favors, and various shreds 
 and patches of the women's costume strewed the 
 floors. A careless driver had crossed the lawn by 
 mistake, and destroyed one of the most gorgeous 
 of the tulip beds, leaving great ruts in the soft, 
 green expanse. Besides, he had knocked down a 
 large vase at the corner of the drive. Belinda was
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 91 
 
 cross and nervous. The truth is, Belinda's con- 
 science troubled her, and she felt obliged to " take 
 it out " of everybody that came in her way. 
 
 Eleanor awoke in a very depressed condition of 
 mind, with a consciousness of a heavy weight at 
 her heart, which she could not explain at first. 
 What was the use of all the trouble she had taken 
 the night before ? The dazzling morning sun only 
 intensified her gloom. And now that the excite- 
 ment of her preparations for the entertainment 
 had died away, the question of the mystery came 
 into her mind with new exigency. She took the 
 faded note in her mother's handwriting and read 
 it again and again. What could it mean ? Belinda 
 came upstairs and deposited a cup of coffee on 
 her table. 
 
 " You can come down when you like, of course," 
 that amiable person said ; " but if I drop dead in 
 a state of exhaustion from overwork, the coroner 
 won't hold }*ou irresponsible." 
 
 Eleanor . turned wearily. What did it matter 
 what Belinda said ? Nothing could make her 
 more wretched than she was. Belinda now looked 
 at her with a gleam of kindliness in her eyes. If 
 she had not such a strong sense of dignity, she 
 would have spoken then and there. She felt re- 
 lieved as she saw the note which had fallen on 
 Eleanor's toilet table. It was out of Mrs. Bay- 
 ard's hands, at least.
 
 92 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 She hesitated a moment. Should she speak or 
 not ? It would have been a sacrifice of her dig- 
 nity to do so ; and, besides, Mr. Stokes might advise 
 her to keep silence, she had great confidence in 
 Mr. Stokes. Another consideration moved her to 
 keep her lips closed : what would Judge Redwood 
 say if she meddled in this matter ? Belinda, in the 
 course of her domestic service, had lived with 
 nearly every family in Redwood. In addition to 
 this, her reputation as a person of experience in 
 the arrangement of funerals was very great ; con- 
 sequently she had been brought into contact with 
 all the gossip of the town, and she knew that 
 Judge Redwood's secret had been well kept. And 
 now that she was sure that Laura's mother had 
 never told her daughter, and that Patrick Des- 
 mond was ignorant of it, she was amazed at this. 
 She left the room somewhat reluctantly. She 
 realized that Eleanor must be unhappy, and she 
 wished with all her heart that, in her desire to 
 bind Mrs. Bayard to the cause of the African Kin- 
 dergarten, she had not been so impulsive ; it was 
 only a few days before Mrs. Bayard's unfortunate 
 visit that she had unluckily found the forgotten 
 letter in an old box of odds and ends. Mrs. Bay- 
 ard's words to Desmond had opened her eyes to 
 the possible extent of the injury she had done. 
 
 Eleanor thanked Belinda for the coffee, and 
 after she had gone read the letter again :
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 93 
 
 " MRS. DESMOXD : Guard my son as you will guard 
 your life, and I will cherish your child until I can speak 
 out, to tell of the wickedness of the man who hates me 
 because I am what I am. Some day the truth will out, 
 and my boy will have his own. 
 
 CLARISSA REDWOOD." 
 
 There was no doubt in Eleanor's mind about the 
 meaning of this : she was enjoying what belonged 
 to another. Was that other Patrick Desmond? 
 She almost hoped it was. It would be very easy 
 to give all her fortune to him. She thought of 
 his clear, earnest look with a feeling of consola- 
 tion. There, at least, was truth. 
 
 The reaction from the excitement of the last few 
 days had set in, Eleanor was of that elastic 
 temperament which, while it readily yields to the 
 call of common-sense, is easily exalted or depressed. 
 The morning wore on ; she tried in vain to con- 
 tent herself with the work that lay near her hands. 
 She thought with dislike of the prospect of half a 
 dozen friends coming in the afternoon to " talk 
 things over." As soon as her father should come 
 home, she would certainly ask him though it 
 would be a great trial what the letter meant. 
 A fear, which she cast back every time it op- 
 pressed her, haunted her. Could it be possible 
 ihat she was not Eleanor Redwood? -that there 
 was another Avho could claim her father's name, as 
 well as the rights that went with it ? She .'.uughed
 
 94 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 at the surmise. Such a thing could not occur 
 outside of a sensational story-book. An exchange 
 \ children it certainly was absurd. And the 
 absurdity of it made her for the moment lose her 
 gloom. The very idea of her father's being con- 
 nected with such a melodramatic affair was abso- 
 lutely humorous. And yet there was the terrible 
 letter. 
 
 Eleanor wondered how she could have enjoyed, 
 even endured, the entertainment of the preceding 
 night. She clasped her hands, and, to Belinda's 
 consternation, dropped her dust-brush and burst 
 into tears. At that moment one of the temporary 
 "helps " brought in a card ; and Belinda, having 
 read the name on it, announced, " Mrs. Howard 
 .Sykes." 
 
 Eleanor dried her eyes, put on her hat and 
 jacket, and, flinging a hasty " not at home " after 
 her, made for the gate of the back garden. She 
 stood for a moment looking at the- river. A shrill 
 whistle blew ; it was twelve o'clock, and this was 
 a signal for the men in the mills to quit work. 
 She resolved to go over the river to Patrick Des- 
 mond's mother. Mrs. Bayard had carelessly said 
 that Desmond did not dine at home, and that 
 she noticed him every noonday at the Howard 
 House. Eleanor could see Mrs. Desmond alone 
 and ask her. This was her chance. 
 
 With that somewhat unreasonable sense of relief
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 95 
 
 which a resolution, however desperate, often brings, 
 Eleanor crossed the bridge just in time to meet a 
 great crowd of the factory " hands " on their way 
 to dinner. The younger ones were as gay and 
 frisky as possible ; the older men and women were 
 more sedate. They were mostly Swedes and Poles, 
 with an Irishman here and there. What a dread- 
 ful thing it must be to be obliged to follow the 
 sound of a bell ; to have to go and come at the 
 command of others; to work and work, and begin 
 work again. Still, the girls and women were not 
 unhappy-looking. They laughed and exchanged 
 jokes, and were extremely vivacious, that is, the 
 Poles were ; the Swedes, blond-haired and blue- 
 gowned, were more silent. 
 
 Eleanor did not find it hard to reach Mrs. Des- 
 mond's house. A question or two to the nearest 
 child set ,her right. The house was a dazzlingly 
 white frame dwelling, with a veranda in front, 
 well-curtained with vines, budding almost visibly 
 in the spring sunshine. It stood back a little from 
 the street. Eleanor was agreeably surprised at the 
 air of comfort and the neatness that reigned in this 
 part of the town. She had expected to see signs 
 of deep poverty and depression. She knocked at 
 the white door timidly. At that moment she 
 asked herself whether Mrs. Desmond might not 
 confront her as an intruder. 
 
 The door opened, and a rose-tinted, wrinkled
 
 96 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 face, full of sweetness and gentleness, beneath a 
 white cap-frill, met Eleanor's gaze. Patrick's 
 mother was a little woman, and she had to turn 
 up her eyes to see Eleanor's countenance. She 
 was dressed in the dark gown, with lace collar, she 
 always wore when she expected Patrick or " com- 
 pany." If Eleanor had known what the collar 
 meant, she would have postponed her entrance 
 until another day. Mrs. Desmond smiled, and 
 begged her visitor to excuse her just one minute : 
 she had something " on the stove." Eleanor drew 
 out one of the horsehair chairs Mrs. Desmond's 
 pride and sat down, following her hostess' in- 
 vitation. 
 
 The odor of the hyacinth and the mignonette 
 on the window-shelf filled the room. Eleanor ad- 
 mired its extreme neatness, and wondered at the 
 flamboyant and stunning greens and reds in the pict- 
 ure of St. Patrick over the mantelpiece colors 
 which " swore at " the other reds and greens in 
 the brilliant piece of carpet in the centre of the 
 room. Eleanor looked at the narrow room, and 
 said to herself that this was no place for a man 
 like Patrick Desmond. A man like him ought to 
 be set in a palace. 
 
 At this moment Mrs. Desmond came in. Sue 
 was rather heated from too close contact with the 
 stove, and perhaps a little flurried by the presence 
 of a visitor. She smiled a welcome, nevertheless,
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 97 
 
 although it was her private opinion that Miss Red- 
 wood was a very good-looking book agent. 
 
 " I thought I might come to see you," began 
 Eleanor, drawing her mother's letter, from her 
 purse ; " but I'm almost afraid " 
 
 " Oh ! I'm very sorry, dear, that I can't sub- 
 scribe to-day. We've just finished taking ' The 
 Parnell Movement ' in fifty-four parts, and it is 
 not ended yet ; and we've had ' The Lives of the 
 Popes ' coming for the last two years but you 
 look tired ; let me get you a cup of tea? " 
 
 " No oh, no," said Eleanor, somewhat taken 
 aback by this information. " I am afraid you take 
 me for somebody else." At another time all 
 Eleanor's carefully cultivated aristocratic preju- 
 dices would have been aroused by Mrs. Des- 
 mond's mistake ; but to-day she felt very humble. 
 " I am not selling books. If I were," she added, 
 with one of those perceptions of the humorous 
 which were apt to strike her at incongruous times, 
 " I should have called you 'the lady of the house.' 
 I fancy you remember my mother, Mrs. Desmond ? 
 I am Eleanor Redwood." 
 
 " Dear, dear ! " said Mrs. Desmond, putting on 
 her spectacles. " Ah, yes. You have the look of 
 Clarissa Waldron. I knew her well." 
 
 Mrs. Desmond, under other circumstances, would 
 have made a dozen apologies ; as it was, she forgot 
 them, and took both Eleanor's hands in hers. Her
 
 98 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 voice was so soft with the pathos of intonation 
 so charming in many Irish voices, as in many Irish 
 melodies, that Eleanor felt a new sense of peace. 
 
 " Oh ! Mrs. Desmond," she said, beginning to cry, 
 " you knew my mother. Tell me all." 
 
 She held Mrs. Desmond's hands now with a 
 nervous clasp. The latter, starting at her ques- 
 tion, had almost withdrawn them ; but Eleanor 
 held them fast. The color left Mrs. Desmond's 
 face for an instant ; she gently disengaged herself ; 
 she wanted to gain time to think. 
 
 " Wait, dear, till I get you a cup of tea." 
 
 Before Eleanor could protest, the elder woman 
 had left the room. When she returned with the tea, 
 she had regained her calmness. She made Eleanor 
 drink it, while she fixed her own eyes on a little 
 card picture of Our Lady of Good Counsel which 
 stood on the mantel-shelf. 
 
 " You must tell me all," Eleanor said, drawing 
 Mrs. Desmond toward her. " Oh ! you don't know 
 how unhappy I am. I can bear anything better 
 than suspense." 
 
 Mrs. Desmond drew a chair beside Eleanor's, 
 and was silent ; Eleanor could see that she was 
 praying. 
 
 " I ought to know the truth. Read this, my 
 mother's own letter." 
 
 Slowly and carefully Mrs. Desmond who 
 seldom read anything but her prayer-book now 
 mastered the contents of the note.
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATliICK DESMOND. 99 
 
 " Where did you get this ? " she asked, gravely. 
 
 " I found it in one of my father's note-books, 
 it dropped out," Eleanor answered. 
 
 " But it was intended for me, though I had no 
 right to receive it, poor Clarissa ! " Mrs. Des- 
 mond murmured these last words to herself. 
 
 " Dear Mrs. Desmond," said Eleanor, putting 
 her arms about the old woman's neck, " tell me 
 the truth. I shall die if I have to wait until my 
 father comes home. Whom can I trust ? " 
 
 " You can trust your father," said Mrs. Des- 
 mond, with a dignity which, gentle and unas- 
 sertive as it was, gave Eleanor some comfort. 
 The worst fear of all had been that a time might 
 come when she could not trust her father. 
 
 " Give him this note," continued Mrs. Desmond. 
 " He will tell you to trust him and ask no ques- 
 tions. It means nothing to you and nothing to 
 me. It should have been destroyed." 
 
 " It means nothing? " asked Eleanor doubtfully. 
 She looked into Mrs. Desmond's eyes, and read 
 truth there; she threw her arms around the old 
 woman's neck. " I believe you," she said ; " I 
 believe you. I will ask my father, and abide by 
 what he says. But, oh ! why should I not know 
 w!;y my mother wrote this ? " 
 
 A pained look crossed Mrs. Desmond's face ; 
 she put her wrinkled hand on Eleanor's head as if 
 in blessing. The door softly opened, and Patrick
 
 100 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 entered without ceremony. His mother, for 
 almost the first time in her life, had forgotten 
 him. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 " The root of all evil. : 
 
 PATRICK stood at the door in amazement. His 
 mother's hand rested on Eleanor's head caress- 
 ingly, and the girl's eyes were turned lovingly to 
 the face of the older woman. He recognized 
 Eleanor Redwood at once, though the room was 
 darker than the sun-illumined street. He stood 
 with one hand on the knob, irresolute. It seemed 
 as if he were in a dream. He had been thinking 
 of Eleanor all the way from the factory, and here 
 she was in his' own house. Pygmalion could not 
 have been more startled when the statue came to 
 life. 
 
 Mrs. Desmond looked up, with tenderness in 
 her eyes. Her whole heart had gone out to the 
 girl at her side. But when she saw her son, her 
 expression changed ; and she drew her hand away 
 from Eleanor's forehead, as she noticed that
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 101 
 
 Eleanor raised her face toward Patrick with a 
 new interest in it. 
 
 It is a great mistake to imagine that words are 
 the most potent expressions of feeling : they are 
 only after-thoughts ; they are to looks what the 
 mail is to the telegraph only more swift. 
 
 In an instant Mrs. Desmond's fear and perhaps 
 a little jealousy, was aroused. If it takes a 
 superior woman to make an old maid, it takes a 
 more superior woman to make a perfect mother- 
 in-law. And even Mrs. Desmond, who was very 
 gentle and very true, felt a pang of jealousy as 
 she saw the young people look at each other. To 
 her there was no man on earth like Patrick. 
 He was a child still a child and a man; or, 
 rather, a child in a man, her protector and her 
 ward at once. Her thoughts, as quick and as keen 
 as arrows, went forward into the future. Here, 
 perhaps, was the woman who would some day be 
 the dearest in her son's heart ; and for an instant 
 she almost wished that her son were a cripple 
 instead of the handsome youth he was. Then she 
 might at least have him all to herself. 
 
 After the first amazement had passed, Desmond 
 stepped forward and shook hands with Eleanor. 
 The room suddenly became sordid in his eyes. 
 What would she think of him for not giving his 
 mother a better place, full of those little modern 
 touches of refinement which Eleanor knew so
 
 102 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 well? That thing which he most wished to 
 avoid had happened. She saw his poverty ; 
 she saw him, not at his best, but at his 
 worst. No doubt, in spite of her gracious 
 manner, she was wondering at the great green and 
 red daub of a chromo on the mantelpiece, and 
 hating the smell of the dinner which came from 
 the kitchen. In truth, Eleanor was thinking of 
 none of these things. Mrs. Desmond's motherly 
 sympathy had taken a great load from her heart, 
 and the coming of Patrick had elated her for the 
 moment. Whether the scent from the kitchen 
 suggested beefsteak or orange blossoms was to her 
 at that time a matter of indifference. 
 
 Mrs. Desmond hesitated for a moment and 
 slipped away. After all, the momentous affair of 
 the hour was Patrick's dinner. She was hospi- 
 table to the inner fibres of her heart: Eleanor 
 must not leave the house without having par- 
 taken of her salt. She hastily made such changes 
 in the arrangements of her table as befitted a new 
 guest. 
 
 In the meantime the young people had not 
 said much. Eleanor had thanked Patrick aq-ain 
 
 o 
 
 for coming to her Coffee, and he had responded 
 that he had enjoyed it extremely. Much as he 
 felt the charm of her presence, he wished that she 
 would go. How would his mother's homely ways 
 strike her? She noticed the flowers in the
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 103 
 
 window, and spoke of them ; and all the time he 
 was fiercely wishing that he had money money, 
 that he might stand as the equal of this woman, 
 whom in his heart he now accused of being proud 
 and scornful, because her manner was so entirely 
 simple and kind. This accusation was the result 
 of his own pride, but he did not realize it. He 
 felt that he could not endure the presence of 
 Eleanor Redwood until he could be her equal in 
 every respect. 
 
 It was strange how all his manhood seemed to 
 shrink before the fetich which he had raised, and 
 whose importance his education in the atmosphere 
 of Redwood had caused him to exaggerate. All 
 Eleanor's charm, the atmosphere of truth and 
 purity, seemed to him to be the outcome of 
 money ; and his present embarrassment, his diffi- 
 dence, his mortification, was the result of his own 
 lack of money. And the worst of it was that he 
 did not even know how vulgar and despicable he 
 was for allowing these impressions to dominate 
 him ; for one might as well attribute the God-given 
 distinction of a wild rose to money as to fancy 
 that money could have made Eleanor Redwood 
 what she was. 
 
 Eleanor politely refused Mrs. Desmond's invita- 
 tion to have a cup of tea. Patrick hoped that she 
 might persist in it ; but his mother's hospitality 
 was aflame, and denial was impossible. She almost
 
 104 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOtfD. 
 
 laid violent hands on Eleanor's jacket and hat. 
 Patrick ran upstairs and hastily improved his 
 toilet. In a little while he was seated opposite to 
 Eleanor, in the small apartment which served both 
 as kitchen and dressing-room. He was mortified, 
 rebellious. Why could his mother not see how 
 incongruous Eleanor's presence was ? He forgot 
 that, brought in close contact with Miss Redwood, 
 his mother saw, not one of the " quality " on the 
 Hill, but the daughter of an old friend. Eleanor, 
 understanding how much care was necessaiy to 
 produce the exquisite neatness visible in Mrs. 
 Desmond's arrangements, was silently admiring, 
 while Patrick fancied she was silently scornful. 
 
 Mrs. Desmond waited on the two, with no sense 
 of the unfitness of it felt by her son. Eleanor in- 
 sisted upon helping her, and Patrick's mortification 
 was somewhat mitigated by her grace and tact. 
 Nevertheless, it was a bad hour for him. 
 
 At last Eleanor rose to go, and Patrick followed 
 her ; it was nearly time for him to start back to 
 the office. Eleanor, having put on her hat and 
 jacket, took Mrs. Desmond's hand and then kissed 
 her with a deprecatory " May I? " In spite of his 
 desire to stay with his mother in order to find out 
 the cause of Eleanor's visit, politeness obliged 
 Patrick to accompany her. 
 
 " Don't forget to stop at the church, dear," his 
 mother said, " and make your visit. It's the Forty 
 Hours' Devotion, you know."
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICE DESMOND. 105 
 
 He promised. Eleanor, with another good-by- 
 te his mother, walked down the street by his side. 
 Mrs. Desmond watched them from the porch. 
 
 " A good-looking pair," she murmured. " But I 
 hope to Heaven that the boy will leave this place 
 soon. I'd rather see him dead than marry her." 
 
 Eleanor looked very fresh and bright. She was 
 almost at peace with herself. She kept pace with 
 Patrick's elastic tread ; for, unlike most of the 
 Redwood ladies, she was a constant walker. Pat- 
 rick, in his mind, compared her to a graceful yacht 
 at sea on a clear day. 
 
 " Do we pass the church? " she asked, " that 
 is, I mean is the church on my way home, too? " 
 
 " Oh, yes. We reach it before we come to the 
 bridge," he answered. 
 
 " I have never been in a Catholic church," she 
 said. " What do you call this one ? " 
 
 " The Church of the Holy Innocents. I am 
 afraid you would be disappointed if you entered 
 it. It is a little wooden church ; for we Catholics 
 are not rich yet." 
 
 " And do you think that makes so much differ- 
 ence ? " she asked, with rather a wistful look in 
 her eyes. 
 
 " All the difference in the world," he answered, 
 promptly. "My mother would have me believe 
 that religion makes a man happy whether he is 
 rich or poor. Nothing but money can make a 
 poor man happy."
 
 106 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 Eleanor stopped for a second and gave him a 
 startled look from her soft, clear eyes. " If I be- 
 lieved that " she began ; then she paused. " I 
 would rather die than believe that." 
 
 "You do believe it," he remarked, with a hai-sh 
 note in his voice. " And everybody in Redwood 
 believes it." 
 
 " My father does not," said Eleanor, decidedly. 
 
 " I don't know him, he is probably an excep- 
 tion. But I know, Miss Redwood, that nothing 
 counts so much in our life as money. Don't we 
 see it every day ? There is that Mrs. Sykes I 
 met her at your house last night. Why do people 
 court her ? Because she is rich." 
 
 " She has a good heart, she is kind to the poor, 
 she is an old friend of my mother's " 
 
 " And her husband is the richest man in Red- 
 wood." 
 
 Eleanor's eyes flashed ; she looked straight at 
 Patrick. " You don't seem to know what you are 
 saying, or implying, rather. Riches may count 
 here, but there are other qualities that count more. 
 A rich man or woman without those qualities has 
 a better chance than if he or she were poor. But 
 if a poor man or woman is good and clever, I fancy 
 there is just as much chance for them socially in 
 Redwood as anywhere else." 
 
 " Just as much," said Patrick, bitterly. 
 
 Eleanor's spirit was aroused. " Why do people
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 107 
 
 love my father ? Not because he is rich, but be- 
 cause he is clever and kind. It adds something 
 to it, of course, that he has a house into which he 
 can invite people, and that he is not poor. But 
 were he poor to-morrow were I obliged to work 
 in the factory, our people here in Redwood 
 would not be less kind." 
 
 " You would not be asked to Coffees," said 
 Patrick, laughing, yet with a trace of bitterness. 
 
 " I should not go. But I imagine that people 
 would ask me until they felt sure that I preferred 
 not to be asked. I don't know the large cities in 
 America, but in our city many things count more 
 than money." 
 
 " Nothing counts as much as money. It is power. 
 Look at me. See what I have suffered for the 
 lack of a little money. I have been obliged to 
 wear clothes I was ashamed of. I went to a 
 wretched school, where nothing was taught except 
 the rudiments and the catechism ; we poor people 
 over the river couldn't afford anything better. I 
 sold papers, I dug gardens, I burned with heat in 
 summer and froze in winter, in order to buy books. 
 I was determined not to be kept down ; and I have 
 an ambitious mother, though she would be different 
 from what she is if she were not poor." 
 
 " Why should you want her to be different 
 from what she is ? " asked Eleanor, indignantly. 
 At this moment she felt contempt for Desmond,
 
 108 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 a contempt as unjustifiable as it was intense. 
 She would have liked to speak her mind to him, 
 but she felt that her acquaintance with him was 
 too short for that. 
 
 They had reached the church. It was a weath- 
 erbeaten frame structure, punctured by white- 
 sashed windows. Desmond paused at the door 
 and said : " I suppose I must say good-by." 
 
 " Why can't I go in ? " Eleanor asked. 
 
 " Oh ! you may if you wish, " he answered. 
 " But you'll find everything poor and cheap," 
 he added, apologetically. 
 
 Eleanor followed him into the little church. 
 The shades of the windows were down, and the 
 body of the church was in gloom. The only 
 points of light were the candles on the altar; 
 and in the centre of them was the radiant Host, 
 surrounded by flowers. 
 
 To Eleanor, coming in from the brilliancy of 
 the noonday sun, the darkness of the church 
 and the splendor of the altar were exaggerated. 
 Desmond showed her to a pew. When her eyes 
 became accustomed to the gloom, she saw that 
 there were several people in the church. There 
 was Jack Conlon, whom she knew by sight, 
 kneeling with a rapt devotion. She was sur- 
 prised, for she had never noticed him with a long 
 face, and a " long face " was an outward sign of 
 v eligion; in fact, he was known as "Laughing
 
 fHE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 109 
 
 Jack." Not far from him was Ellie Reardon, one 
 of Belinda's " helps," with her eyes fixed on the 
 altar in breathless ecstasy. Next to her was 
 Felix Brent, the exclusive lawyer from New Or- 
 leans, whom Redwood society had striven in vain 
 to capture, and who was looked on with a certain 
 respect very rare in democratic Redwood. Des- 
 mond knelt, too ; and then there was such silence 
 that the delicious scents from the flowers on the 
 altar seemed to break it. The street was quiet 
 at this hour, and no sound from anywhere marred 
 the stillness. 
 
 Eleanor was awed and peaceful. She did not 
 understand it all. She knew that it meant prayer ; 
 and the sight of Desmond on his knees raised her 
 respect for him. She knew well no really relig- 
 ious man except Mr. Stokes and one or two of 
 the ministers ; and it seemed to be part of their 
 business to be religious. It was refreshing to 
 know a man who was sure of his belief and pub- 
 licly professed it, and who was not a minister. 
 She longed to know what it all meant. The shut- 
 ter of one of the windows had a chink in it ; and, 
 as she was thinking, a ray of light fell upon the 
 face of the statue of the Mother of God on one of 
 the little side altars. It was not a great statue, 
 but it had a beautiful face, and the light suddenly 
 thrown on it made it lifelike. Eleanor was start- 
 led by the appearance of the lovely face through
 
 110 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 the gloom. " Mary ! " she said, almost involun- 
 tarily; and, burying her face in her hands, she 
 repeated the "Our Father." A "strange, celes- 
 tial brightness " seemed to fill her heart after this. 
 Desmond went out, and she followed him into 
 the sunlight. 
 
 "I suppose you think this is all very child- 
 like?" he said, apologetically, as they walked 
 toward the bridge. 
 
 " Not at all ! " she answered, indignantly. 
 
 " Your ministers think that it is worse than 
 childish, and are constantly saying so." 
 
 " But that has nothing to do with my impres- 
 sions," said Eleanor. " Besides, our clever min- 
 isters do not say that any more ; and Protestants 
 are becoming too enlightened to endure the stupid 
 ones, who try to frighten us from the consider- 
 ation of our shortcomings by abusing Popery." 
 Eleanor laughed. " That's a quotation from papa, 
 I must admit." 
 
 Desmond asked himself whether she was say- 
 ing this merely to please him or not. She, who 
 was accustomed to the beautiful temples which 
 the Baptists and Presbyterians had raised in Red- 
 wood, must be contemptuous in her heart at the 
 remembrance of the poor little Catholic church. 
 
 " Some day, when I have become rich, I shall 
 return to Redwood and build a church for our 
 people that nobody will sneer at," he said, with a 
 tcuch of offence in his tone.
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. Ill 
 
 " How heroic, how noble ! " she answered, giv- 
 ing her tongue its freedom. " You" will build a 
 church, not to please God, but to outshine other 
 churches. How worthy of your belief you are ! 
 I can tell you, Mr. Desmond, that we my father 
 and I, and I imagine we are fair representatives 
 of American non-Catholics might sneer at your 
 bedizened, mock-splendid, rich church, but that we 
 would never sneer at the church I was in to-day. 
 Faith was there and God was there. I don't 
 know much about the Catholic Church; I do 
 know that, if you represent it, it is infinitely bet- 
 ter than its people. Good-by, Mr. Desmond." 
 
 Patrick stood and watched her. A hot flush 
 mounted his cheek. She had insulted him with- 
 out provocation, arid he could not find words to 
 answer her. He was intensely angry; and yet, 
 down in his heart, he felt that her manner and 
 words could not sting him so if he was sure that 
 he did not deserve the rebuke. How graceful 
 and stately she was, how admirable in face and 
 expression. And yet how insolent, how insult- 
 ing. He would make her change her mariner. 
 And then suddenly he remembered that he was 
 only a clerk in a chair factory on his way to work. 
 
 " I will make her respect me," he said. " I will 
 be rich and powerful, and then " 
 
 But she had seemed to disdain riches and 
 power. He went toward the factory in a turbu- 
 lent state of mind.
 
 112 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 Eleanor, crossing the bridge, became utterly 
 depressed. She had, unconsciously, idealized 
 Desmond ; he seemed so good, so honest, so true, 
 so high-minded. She realized that she had spent 
 more thought in creating a halo for him than she 
 had imagined. He was a she could not find an 
 epithet for him until she struck the English word 
 " cad " ; he was a cad, to apologize for his mother 
 and for his religion. And the worst of it all was 
 that the apology was not directed to Eleanor Red- 
 wood, the woman of culture who read Browning 
 twice a week, or to Eleanor Redwood, who had 
 managed to connect her pedigree with that of 
 King Harold the conquered ; but to Eleanor Red- 
 wood the rich. She could have cried. If Desmond 
 could have known this, it might have soothed the 
 turmoil of his feelings. 
 
 On his desk he found a note from Mrs. Bayard : 
 
 DEAR MR. DESMOND, As you did not come to 
 dinner at the Howard House, I take the liberty of in- 
 forming you that you will find it to your advantage to 
 insist on your mother's telling you why Judge Eedwood 
 retains your property. I may say, for fear that a wicked 
 world might misunderstand me, that my interest in you 
 is pecuniary. And, if you succeed in obtaining your 
 own, a check for an amount commensurate with my ser- 
 vice would be agreeable. Please tear up this letter, as 
 I am not sure whether ' succeed ' is spelled with two c's 
 or one. 
 
 Yours sincerely, 
 
 LAURA BAYARD.
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 Patrick plunged into work, for he had great 
 power of concentration. But when the day was 
 done he went like a whirlwind homeward. He 
 wanted to know two things : the meaning of this 
 note, and why Eleanor had called on his mother. 
 
 Mrs. Desmond, without hesitation, answered 
 his questions. She was indignant with Laura 
 Bayard. 
 
 " She's a bad woman," Mrs. Desmond said, 
 warmly ; " and it's hard to think that the like of 
 her can be a friend of Miss Redwood's. And now, 
 Patrick, you understand it all; and if you want 
 to know anything more about it, ask Dr. Talbot ; 
 he's kept the secret well. And isn't Eleanor 
 Redwood the fine girl. Not that I'd want you to 
 be thinking of her at all ; for I'd rather see you 
 dead than married to her " 
 
 " Mother," interrupted Patrick, impatiently, " I 
 don't like her ; but if I wanted to make a mixed 
 marriage, I would " 
 
 " God forbid," said his mother, making the 
 Sign of the Cross. 
 
 ' A man can't be bound by such old-fashioned 
 opinions. Religion is a good thing, at any 
 rate " he broke off, seeing the look of pain on 
 his mother's face, " Eleanor Redwood will never 
 think of me in that way, nor," he added, bit- 
 terly, " will I of her." 
 
 " God keep you to that, boy," said Mrs. Des-
 
 114 THE SUCCESS OF PATE 1C K DESMOND. 
 
 mond ; " for didn't you understand me a moment 
 ago when I told you that Eleanor's mother was 
 insane ? " 
 
 " And what difference would that make in the 
 matter of marriage ? " asked the young man, 
 quite willing for the moment to put Eleanor away 
 from him, but not willing that circumstances 
 should do that office. 
 
 Mrs. Desmond threw up her hands in despair. 
 
 A sharp knock sounded at the door. Patrick 
 opened it ; a blue-coated boy handed him a yellow 
 envelope ; it was a telegram for his mother ; and 
 he read : 
 
 " Miles is not well. Send Patrick at once, if he does 
 not drink. 
 
 GALLIGAN."
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 115 
 
 IX. 
 
 " Love is without reason." 
 
 Coventry Patmore. 
 
 DESMOND concluded to obey the mandate of 
 Mrs. Miles Galligan. His mother was almost 
 feverishly eager that he should go. His very 
 protestation that he would never think of Eleanor 
 Redwood with any warmer feeling than a kind of 
 passive dislike alarmed her. Her experience told 
 her that the fact of Eleanor's seeming beyond his 
 reach would most probably bring about a marriage 
 she was anxious to avoid. She had not the slight- 
 est doubt that Eleanor would consent ; in fact, she 
 was sure the young girl's visit to her had been 
 made with a view of improving the acquaintance 
 of Patrick. 
 
 She did not find fault with Eleanor for this. In 
 her mind, it was as natural that every human being 
 should seek to be friendly with her son as for the 
 bees to buzz around the maple buds. It was bet- 
 ter that Patrick should be out of danger. Eleanor 
 Redwood was certainly a nice girl, but there was 
 insanity in the family ; besides, she was not a 
 Catholic. Mrs. Desmond looked on a mixed mar- 
 riage with almost as much aversion as insanity. 
 If the day's events had been different, she would 
 have dropped many a tear as she packed her son's
 
 116 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 trunk ; but as it was, she examined the fastenings 
 of buttons and rubbed at slight spo ;s with a calm 
 philosophy which nothing but the appearance on 
 the scene of a suspected rival for a place in Pat- 
 rick's heart could have induced her to acquire. 
 
 Her son, who was entirely ignorant of the art 
 of packing a trunk, went down to the river to 
 meet Jack Conlon. Jack was smoking as usual ; 
 he stood at his father's gate in the green oasis, 
 which was brilliantly green with all the freshness 
 of spring. The frogs had begun their chorus in 
 the shallow places of the river ; and a twittering, 
 a lilting, a mixture of melody and harmony from 
 nestward-bound birds, filled the air. The large 
 maple at the gate, among whose buds the bees 
 had added the tones of a bass-viol to the orches- 
 tra of the spring all the day, showed red against 
 the pale sky. 
 
 Jack nodded as Patrick stepped up to him. 
 " I have good news," he said ; " my father is bet- 
 ter. If he continues to improve, I shall return to 
 the seminary in a few days." 
 
 " I am glad of that, heartily glad. I have 
 something to tell you, too. Come, take a walk." 
 
 " Can't. I must stay in this secluded spot be- 
 cause I want to smoke, and a pipe should not be 
 seen publicly with a Roman collar." 
 
 Patrick admitted the justice of this; but, on 
 consideration, he outlined a route by which all
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 117 
 
 critical observers could be avoided. And certainly 
 the prospect of a walk through the balmy air was 
 tempting enough. Having warned his father's 
 nurse to show a light in the west window in case 
 he should be needed, Jack consented to accompany 
 his friend. 
 
 They strolled through a thicket of young oaks, 
 crossed the river at its narrowest part by means 
 of a series of stepping-stones, and reached a slight 
 elevation on the opposite side of the river, imme- 
 diately behind Judge Redwood's house. From 
 this point the view of the river and the town was 
 very picturesque. The increasing twilight hid all 
 the sordid evidences of man's daily work in the 
 factories. The chimneys had ceased to smoke. 
 One by one pale lights appeared in the windows of 
 the homes on the river bank, and were reflected in 
 the water. Two boys sitting on the wharf began to 
 sing in high-pitched voices, and when they ceased, 
 all sound was gone, except the splash of the water 
 and the distant croaking of the frogs. 
 
 Patrick had told his friend of his coming de- 
 parture. Jack had seemed concerned. He did not 
 say much until they reached the knoll; then, 
 stretching his length along the slope of rock, he 
 took his pipe from his mouth and said : " And how 
 about your place at the factory ? " 
 
 " Oh ! they know that I intend to better myself. 
 I spoke about this some time ago ; they'll have no
 
 118 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 difficulty in finding a substitute. Of course if it's 
 inconvenient to them I'll not go." 
 
 " What do you mean by ' bettering ' yourself? " 
 
 " Getting out of Redwood," answered Des- 
 mond, with a slight laugh. 
 
 Conlon shook his head. " You are bright ; you 
 are better educated than most of the young men 
 about us here in Redwood ; why don't you stay 
 and help to ' better ' them ? " 
 
 " Why don't you ? " asked Desmond, surprised. 
 Jack Conlon seldom spoke in such a grave tone. 
 
 " I pray to God that the Bishop will send me 
 here when I shall be ordained, " he said, with an 
 intensity that astonished Desmond. "I want to 
 be of use to my own people. When I see so many 
 of our young people losing their grip on all that 
 made their fathers and mothers good, and fancy- 
 ing themselves so much better, it makes me long 
 to be at work. But there's a limit to what a priest 
 can do. We need laymen like you to supplement 
 us, I mean laymen such as you might be if you 
 were true to yourself." 
 
 Desmond was too much interested to be offended. 
 " Well, go on," he said, as Jack paused. 
 
 " Look at our young men over on the other side 
 of the river, most of them with sound bodies 
 and sound minds, born of a pure race. What 
 becomes of the minds and the bodies ? The for- 
 mer are discontented, wasted in trivial or vulgar
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 119 
 
 thought thought is too high a name, and the 
 latter, five times out of ten, diseased by drink. 
 Or, if they happen to be like you, they are de- 
 voured by a thirst for money " 
 
 " They are poor," interrupted Desmond, defi- 
 antly. " And figs do not grow from thistles." 
 
 " They are not poor," said Jack, warmly. " No 
 man is poor in this country who can own his own 
 house and lot in a few years. Poor ! There is no 
 poverty, to speak of, in American country towns. 
 Go to New York, if you want to see what real 
 poverty is. It is a curse there. They seem to be 
 poor, if you will, in all that makes a man great. 
 Oh ! the girls are all right," continued Jack, as if 
 answering a question. " The Sisters give them a 
 taste for better things. They read; they even 
 study ; they improve themselves in every possible 
 way. But the young men ! they are divided 
 between the meanest talk of the most squalid local 
 politics and playing pool for drinks. Heaven 
 above ! " cried Jack, rising, and breaking the stem 
 of his clay pipe in his violence, " what kind of men 
 are we, when it is only necessary to mention an 
 Irish name here, in order to provoke the question, 
 Does he drink ? ' " 
 
 Jack flung his arms about " like a windmill in 
 a cyclone," as Patrick suggested. It relieved him, 
 he said. 
 
 Sitting there in the semi-darkness, Patrick felt
 
 120 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 a strange sense of responsibility for the friends 
 and companions he was about to leave. It was 
 new and uncomfortable. He tried to shake it off. 
 
 " What would you do to amend all this, Jack ? " 
 
 " Try to make men of them," said Jack, 
 promptly. " Give them interests and tastes above 
 the bar-room and the street corner and the local 
 news. Everybody notices that our young women 
 are superior to our men. It isn't money does that, 
 is it? Well, you are going away ? " Jack's voice 
 trembled a little ; and it was all the more impres- 
 sive to his friend, because he was generally rather 
 humorous and satirical ; and, like most humorous 
 people, he had never had much credit for deep 
 feeling. " And you'll not help us ; and no doubt 
 you'll grow rich, and, when I'm a gray-headed old 
 priest, come back here and build an asylum for 
 inebriates whom your example and work might 
 have saved. Oh ! " said Jack, impatiently, " money 
 will not do everything. It will not give us another 
 St. Francis of Assisi 
 
 At this moment a light appeared in the west 
 window of the house on the opposite bank. 
 
 " My father wants me," cried Jack, hurriedly. 
 " Good-by, old boy ! Here, take this." And he 
 threw him a rosary. " You will need it ; and if 
 you do not, give it to somebody that does ; I 
 can't wait." And away he strode, leaving Desmond 
 alone in the gathering gloom.
 
 TTB SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 121 
 
 The hour was serene ; there was no outward 
 discord, and Patrick's thoughts grouped and re- 
 grouped themselves like figures to the sound of 
 slow music. Strange that both Eleanor Redwood 
 and Jack Conlon, people so widely different, had 
 rebuked him for what seemed to them his world- 
 liness. He admired Jack Conlon with all his 
 heart; and as he thought over Eleanor's words, 
 something like a similar feeling of admiration 
 crept into his mind. He tried to drive it out. 
 She might talk, but a girl like her must naturally 
 despise a poor man. He would succeed, and teach 
 her that by his own strength he could be more 
 than her equal. 
 
 If Mrs. Desmond could have heard his thoughts, 
 she would have known that her presentiment in 
 regard to Eleanor Redwood was in process of real- 
 ization ; for the mother, like Job's war-horse, scents 
 danger from afar. 
 
 As the twilight melted into darkness, Patrick's 
 thoughts kept turning around the centre of Jack 
 Conlon's words. It would be untrue to say that 
 he was not flattered by the implication that he 
 might be looked on as a leader of his own people 
 in Redwood. He asked himself what they needed 
 most; drunkenness was the one vice prominent 
 among them. All their other faults turned on this 
 one. He had often heard his friend, the pastor of 
 the Holy Innocents', say this. At the same time
 
 122 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 Patrick felt that he would have knocked down 
 anybody on the " aristocratic " side of the river 
 who would repeat it. It was the vice that kept 
 his people down. When he compared them with 
 the inhabitants of the opposite side of the town, 
 he felt that they were at a disadvantage. 
 
 The men on his side had health, strength ; they 
 were clever. And there were certainly no more 
 brilliant or prettier girls anywhere. They were, 
 perhaps, a little narrow-minded, because Redwood 
 was so small; their manners, he imagined, were 
 good enough. They were superior to the young 
 men, for they had been controlled by the Sisters ; 
 they were more ambitious than the young men, 
 and they had more self-respect. He wondered what 
 had become of the old Irish fondness for learning 
 among these young Irish-Americans. Most of 
 their fathers, in spite of poverty at home and 
 drudgery in this country, had been better read in 
 the solider literature than these young men, whose 
 studies were confined to the local news of their 
 town. On second thoughts he came to the con- 
 clusion that, while the natural advantages were 
 on the side of his own people, they neither knew 
 how nor cared to make the best of them. They 
 lacked self-respect ; they lacked ambition ; they, 
 as a rule, had no interests beyond questions of 
 everyday work and local politics. 
 
 Patrick said to himself that he had been saved
 
 TEE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 123 
 
 from all this by his mother's unconquerable self- 
 respect and ambition. According to his limited 
 experience, men did not become drunkards because 
 they wanted to do wrong, or even except in 
 cases where a diseased appetite already existed 
 from a passionate thirst for drink ; but because 
 they had no stimulus to improve themselves,. 
 Again, in the old part of Redwood, public opinion 
 held intemperance in abhorrence ; while in his 
 part it was looked on as an amiable weakness. He 
 was striving with all his might to discover the 
 secret of all that he hated in Redwood, but it 
 never occurred to him to take Jack Conlon's 
 words seriously as a lesson to himself. For him- 
 self, there must now be only one end in life to 
 make money. 
 
 He heard the gate in the wall behind him open. 
 He rose quickly. Perhaps this part of the river- 
 bank might be of Judge Redwood's private 
 grounds. 
 
 As he moved, a figure, coming out of the garden 
 gate, screamed slightly, drew back, and then came 
 forward. It was Belinda. She recognized Des- 
 mond, for the moon and the electric lights were in 
 full white floods along the bank. Belinda seemed 
 very serious. She advanced toward Patrick. 
 
 "Mr. Desmond," she said, "will you go into 
 the house for a minute ? I must go for Dr. Talbot. 
 She's had bad news, and the telephone is out of
 
 124 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 order, so that I can't reach him. Go in, go in ! " 
 continued Belinda, hastily. " I'm afraid she'll be 
 ravin' in a minute, like her mother, if somebody 
 doesn't go to her." And Belinda hurried off, 
 wishing that she had met Mr. Stokes instead of 
 Patrick Desmond. 
 
 . He entered the gate, walked up the path, bor- 
 dered by box and budding privet. Several broad 
 steps led up to the back porch. There, on the 
 rustic bench, sat Eleanor Redwood, pale but tear- 
 less. Her hands were clasped. Desmond knew 
 nothing of the anxiety which was preying on her 
 heart, but she seemed to him very pathetic in her 
 loneliness. All the unconscious regality of her air 
 and manner was gone. The moonlight gave her 
 face a softness and gentleness that it did not 
 always possess. At that moment he forgot all his 
 prejudices against her. 
 
 She did not notice his presence until he stood 
 near her ; and then she said, without turning her 
 head : " Dr. Talbot ! " 
 
 " Not Dr. Talbot," he answered, greatly embar- 
 rassed ; " but " 
 
 " O ! Mr Desmond," she exclaimed, rising. 
 
 " Can I be of use ?" 
 
 " Thank you. You are very kind," she said in 
 a low voice. " I am glad to see you. My father 
 and her voice was stifled by tears " has had a fit 
 of apoplexy. They will bring him home to-night.
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 125 
 
 Oh ! why has God been so hard to him ? He did 
 not deserve this. And I I do not know where 
 to turn. God seems so far away. Mr. Desmond, 
 you are a Catholic ; you can perhaps bring Him 
 nearer oh I I am so utterly wretched." 
 
 Desmond was silent. How could he answer 
 her ? She buried her face in her hands. To him 
 she was no longer Eleanor Redwood, the stately 
 woman ; but Eleanor Redwood, a helpless girl, 
 looking to him for help. And from that instant 
 she was photographed, as it were, in his heart. 
 She might again taunt him ; again she might 
 wound his vanity ; but she would always be there 
 now in her gentlest beauty, in her suffering, 
 worthy of love and pity. 
 
 Mrs. Desmond's presentiment had not been an 
 hallucination. 
 
 " Oh, say something," cried Eleanor, " that will 
 bring God nearer ! My father may die, he may 
 be dead ! " 
 
 He approached her and put Jack Conlon's rosary 
 into her hand. The silver crucifix stood out clear 
 in the white light. There seemed to be a sym- 
 pathy of expression between it and the sorrow in 
 Eleanor's face. 
 
 Desmond heard voices approaching. Belinda 
 and Dr. Talbot were coming. The young man 
 turned down the path, leaving the rosary in 
 Eleanor's hand.
 
 126 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 X. 
 
 " Love and Sorrow are twins." 
 
 Henri Bayle. 
 
 DR. TALBOT and Belinda scarcely noticed Pat- 
 rick as he passed them. He paused after they had 
 gone, wondering at the impulse which had induced 
 him to steal away so suddenly. He was con- 
 stantly regretting his impulses, and just as con- 
 stantly acting on them again. He asked himself 
 whether it would not be well to go back. But 
 what could he do ? A stranger, as he was, would 
 certainly be in the way. And yet he stood for 
 half an hour by the river's bank, debating with 
 himself whether he should retu rn or not. He saw 
 a cab, with lamps lighted, pass along the front 
 street, slowly, carefully driven. He heard it stop. 
 Then he went away, forgetting everything but 
 sympathy for Eleanor Redwood. 
 
 His mother was waiting for him. His trunk 
 was ready. On the afternoon of the next day, 
 providing no opposition was made at the factory, 
 he would speed away from Redwood. Mrs. Des- 
 mond, now that the excitement of the packing was 
 over, began to give way to the sentiment of the 
 occasion. It was an epoch for her. The ship in 
 which were all her earthly hopes was about to put 
 out to sea. It had grown under her hand ; she
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 127 
 
 had fashioned it tenderly ; her life had gone into 
 it. Hopes and fears fears black as night 
 crossed Mrs. Desmond's heart as she waited. And 
 when Patrick entered, she was ready to weep over 
 him, to beg him not to leave her, or to take her 
 with him, to make him understand all that this 
 parting meant to her. All thought of Eleanor 
 Redwood had left her mind for the time being; 
 her son was about to go forth into battle, and the 
 greater fear as to what might be the result of that 
 battle had swallowed up all minor fears. 
 
 When the young man opened the door, Mrs. 
 Desmond was sitting, trembling and pale, with her 
 rosary in her hand. Patrick was preoccupied. 
 
 " Well, mother," he said, with his usual smile. 
 He sat down beside the marble-topped table and 
 drew the lamp toward him. She looked at his 
 face, and read with lightning-like rapidity that his 
 thoughts were not with her. It was a painful dis- 
 covery ; her heart sank ; life, she thought, is indeed 
 hard for a mother. 
 
 " Miss Redwood is in great trouble," he re- 
 marked, carelessly ; " and I never wished more to 
 help anybody in my life." 
 
 Mrs. Desmond became stony at once. What 
 trouble could this young thing have in comparison 
 with hers ? 
 
 " The Judge has been stricken with apoplexy, 
 nd they have just brought him home."
 
 128 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 " How is he ? " asked Mrs. Desmond, with a 
 show of interest. 
 
 Patrick looked embarrassed. "I really don't 
 know, I didn't wait to ask. I was sitting with 
 Jack Conlon on the knoll behind Judge Redwood's 
 house for a while, and Belinda came out to tell 
 me. I ought to have asked about the Judge. The 
 truth is, Miss Redwood looked so unhappy that I 
 didn't think of anything else." 
 
 Mrs. Desmond understood it all. Her sorrow, 
 her fears were nothing in comparison to the afflic- 
 tions of Eleanor Redwood. 
 
 " I shall go over to ask before I go to-morrow. 
 It is too bad to think of her being entirely alone, 
 and in such sad circumstances." 
 
 " I shall be alone after to-morrow," Mrs. Des- 
 mond said, with a touch of bitterness in her tone. 
 
 Patrick looked up. The light from the lamp 
 was full on his mother's face. .He saw a tear on 
 her cheek. 
 
 " Why what's the matter, mother? I thought 
 you wanted me to go." 
 
 The genuine surprise in his tone made her 
 realize how far they were apart at that moment. 
 She wiped away the tears. He was a dutiful son, 
 a kind son, the kindest son in the world ; but 
 he could never understand. If she was jealous, it 
 was because she loved him ; if she was in sorrow, 
 it was because she loved him ; nothing could take
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 129 
 
 away from her the joy of having brought such a 
 man-child into the world. But from the begin- 
 ning from the hour he had seen the light 
 sorrow and pain had been the shadows of her love 
 and joy. He could not understand, he could 
 never understand. After all, there was One who 
 could understand ; and her fingers clasped more 
 closely the beads of her rosary. "There is a 
 Mother who has especial pity for all mothers," 
 she thought. 
 
 "Yes yes, you had better go," she said, 
 hastily. " Oh, yes, but it is hard." 
 
 " It will be only a little while, mother," he said, 
 cheerfully. " I shall be back. And who knows ? 
 in less than a year you may be in New York 
 yourself, in a cosy nest. Though I confess, 
 mother, that Redwood begins to look so lovely 
 just now that I think I should like to stay a little 
 longer." 
 
 The eager manner of his mother, as she an- 
 swered him quickly, surprised him. 
 
 " Sure I don't ask you to stay. I wouldn't have 
 you stay for anything in the world." 
 
 " Then what do you want me to do, mother ? " 
 asked Patrick, puzzled. " I propose to go, and 
 you say, Stay ; I propose to stay " 
 
 " I know why you want to stay, Patrick. You're 
 thinking of Eleanor Redwood." 
 
 Mrs. Desmond regretted this the moment she 
 had spoken ; her son's face turned crimson.
 
 130 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 " Patrick," his mother said, pleadingly, " don't 
 think of her. I suppose the time will come when 
 you'll think of marriage, and then I'll be willing 
 to sit alone here, with a quiet heart, and pray for 
 your happiness. But I couldn't think of you as 
 being happy with her. She is no fit mate for you ; 
 she has been used to a different kind of people 
 since her father has become what he is. She's 
 above us, dear, and her ways are not ours. I'm 
 sure you're good enough for a princess, but her 
 people won't think so, and " 
 
 The color had left Desmond's cheeks, and 
 while his mother was speaking a frown became 
 more and more indented on his forehead. Mrs. 
 Desmond stopped ; she saw that she had made a 
 mistake. 
 
 " I had not thought of marriage at ail, mother," 
 he said ; " but I have thought that if I ever married 
 any girl it should be Eleanor Redwood." 
 
 His mother covered her face with her hands 
 and rocked to and fro. 
 
 " I am tired of hearing of the superiority of the 
 people on the Hill, tired and sick of it ! " lie 
 continued, vehemently. " I have always been told 
 that I, having Irish blood in my veins, came of a 
 race of saints and heroes. Why are we here, 
 mother ? Why were you and my father obliged 
 to come here ? Because your father and mother 
 and grandfather and grandmother loved the Cross
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 131 
 
 of Christ above all, and their country next. Am 
 I sprung from such blood the blood of men and 
 women who preferred poverty to apostasy, in- 
 ferior to these people on the Hill ? It can't be ; 
 if it is, then all the pride of birth and respect for 
 the past you have instilled into me are worse 
 than a lie. How could I feel in me the love of 
 all that is true and beautiful, if you were not the 
 truest of gentlewomen, mother? As your son, if 
 for no other reason, I am Eleanor Redwood's equal, 
 mother." 
 
 Mrs. Desmond's heart glowed with pleasure and 
 contracted with pain. The praise of herself, her 
 boy's pride, delighted her ; but between the words 
 of his speech she read the truth, that she had no 
 longer the first place in his heart. 
 
 "No," he said, firmly, "do not say again that I 
 am not as well-born as any of her friends. And, 
 when the time comes, I shall not hesitate to claim 
 her as my wife if I ever become less detestably 
 poor. Oh ! how I hate poverty. To be an 
 American and to be poor is to be only half a 
 man." 
 
 "You must not think of Eleanor Redwood, 
 Patrick, promise me that you will not," his 
 mother said, rising and taking his hand. 
 
 He did not answer at once. " How can you 
 ask such a thing, mother? In fact," he added, 
 " I have not any reason to believe that she would 
 think of me in that way."
 
 132 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 "Her mother was insane, Patrick; and just 
 before she was born, she was worse than usual. 
 She was as proud as Lucifer of being a Waldron ; 
 and when Eleanor came, she was terribly disap- 
 pointed. She wanted Eleanor to be a boy. How 
 she envied me for you were born about the 
 same time. After a while it became her settled 
 notion that her husband she got it into her head 
 that he hated the Waldrons had deprived her 
 of her own child and substituted Eleanor in its 
 place. She imagined poor woman ! that you 
 were her son, and that the Judge had the power 
 to force me to keep her child." 
 
 " Poor woman ! " Desmond exclaimed. " And 
 was she always mad ? " 
 
 " Only at times." 
 
 " How Eleanor must have suffered." 
 
 " She never knew it ; Mrs. Redwood was sane 
 enough for many years after her birth. But the 
 Waldrons were always more or less queer. The 
 letter Eleanor brought me the other day was 
 written to me in one of her mother's crazy moods. 
 If you have never spoken to Eleanor Redwood in 
 any way that would raise her hopes, don't do it ; 
 she will go mad some day." 
 
 "I would take the risk," answered her son, 
 firmly. " From the moment I saw her, something 
 told me that she should be my wife if I should 
 ever marry."
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 133 
 
 Mrs. Desmond sunk to her knees beside him; 
 he felt her tears on his hand. It was a bitter 
 moment for her. 
 
 " But it's all nonsense to talk of it, all non- 
 sense," he said, smoothing her hair. " Come, 
 dear," he added, lifting her lightly to the sofa, 
 "let us be cheerful." 
 
 " O, Patrick ! " she sobbed, " you don't know 
 what you are saying. You will break my heart if 
 you marry her and she a Protestant." 
 
 " It has been done before," said Patiick ; " and 
 in America we're getting over such prejudices." 
 
 " But a moment ago you said that it was all 
 nonsense to talk of your marrying her at all." 
 " So it is," returned Patrick, in a low voice. 
 Mrs. Desmond looked anxiously into his face. 
 " Ah," she said solemnly, " your face denies your 
 words. If I were on my dying bed I could only 
 say what I say now. Listen to your old mother's 
 words, boy, before it is too late. A few steps 
 more and it will be too late, and you will have 
 marred her life and yours." 
 
 Mrs. Desmond stood erect, her little figure 
 taking a new dignity, and her face becoming very 
 pale and earnest. Her speech, in ordinary con- 
 versation somewhat slow and hesitating, became 
 easy and flowing. She spoke from her heart, and 
 for the time she entirely dominated her son. 
 
 " You don't know what marriage is," she con-
 
 134 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 tinued, " where there is a division between those 
 who are married. It is not easy ; it means self- 
 sacrifice at the best. But if in the greatest of all 
 things there is a difference, then marriage is bitter 
 death is better. I have seen it many times in 
 Redwood. Think what your religion is to you. 
 I hope to God that you would die for it, and yet 
 you would think of making yourself one with a 
 woman who, no matter how good she may be, 
 must look on your Church and its practices as 
 foolish ; who may despise them if she does not 
 hate them." 
 
 " Eleanor Redwood " began the young man, 
 in protest. 
 
 " She is divided from you by a great gulf. If 
 she is sincere in her own belief the trouble will 
 be all the greater. If she is not sincere in her 
 own belief, how can she look on your sincerity 
 with any sympathy ? If you had given your word 
 to her, I should say nothing. But it is not too 
 late. Promise me, Patrick, that you will not 
 think of her" 
 
 " Why should I make such a foolish promise, 
 mother?" interrupted Patrick, with a show of 
 irritation. " I am going away, she will remain 
 here. I shall probably never see her again. I'm 
 tired of all this bigotry about mixed marriages. 
 I've heard of it until I am sick." 
 
 " I pray to God that you may never regret
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 135 
 
 those words. I tell you, Patrick, that Judge 
 Redwood would rather see Eleanor dead than 
 married to you," Mrs. Desmond said, vehemently. 
 
 " He is a bigot, a would-be aristocrat ! " ex- 
 claimed her son, coloring with anger. " I will 
 teach him that I am as good as he is." 
 
 " No, don't say that," said Mrs. Desmond. 
 " The Judge is not what you think. But he 
 learned a lesson which I hope you may never 
 learn. Clarissa Waldron became a Catholic in 
 early life, this was the secret bond that kept 
 us together for years. But the Judge thought 
 her conversion a disadvantage " 
 
 "Politically?" asked Patrick, with more in- 
 terest than he cared to show. 
 
 " He laughed and joked and jeered and sneered. 
 He wouldn't do it now, if he had his life to go 
 over again. He couldn't understand why one 
 church wasn't as good as another. At election 
 times, people threw his wife's religion into his 
 face. It made trouble between the two, until 
 finally she gave it up, just after Eleanor was born. 
 And she was never a happy woman afterward 
 nor he a happy man. If she had held out, he'd 
 have come to her way of thinking, perhaps ; but 
 it would only have been after a lifetime of con- 
 tention. Judge Redwood has had his own expe- 
 rience of what a mixed marriage means. I'm sure 
 he'd give the world to have to live his life over
 
 136 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 again. My boy," Mrs. Desmond went on, pas- 
 sionately, " you don't know what life is. Suppose 
 you should lose your Faith " and she shuddered. 
 " Suppose, for the sake of peace, you should do 
 as Clarissa Waldron did ! I should rather see 
 you dead here now ! " 
 
 Patrick, though he was much moved, tried to 
 smile. " It would be impossible," he said. 
 
 " Clarissa Waldrou thought so, too. You don't 
 know what power a wife has over a husband. Oh ! 
 my boy." 
 
 She said no more ; her voice broke, and Patrick 
 raised her up from the floor for she had fallen 
 on her knees, kissed her forehead, and said 
 with a sigh : "I promise, mother, never to rush 
 into the danger you speak of." 
 
 There was silence after this, until they said 
 good-night. 
 
 Over at the Redwood house, Eleanor stood 
 beside her father's bedside. The Judge had not 
 spoken since he had been brought home from the 
 railway station. Eleanor and Dr. Talbot and 
 Belinda kept watch. The stertorous breathing 
 of the man apparently so vigorous was appalling 
 to his daughter ; it seemed to crush through her 
 nerves and brain and to wound her very heart. 
 She was inconsolable. 
 
 Dr. Talbot could give her little hope. The
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 137 
 
 physician who had accompanied the Judge from 
 Eaglescliff could only say that he had prescribed 
 for him early in the day, and that he complained 
 of overwork. On his way to the Eaglescliff sta- 
 tion he had fallen suddenly. 
 
 About midnight he opened his eyes. Eleanor 
 bent over him, and the crucifix of the rosary she 
 still held in her hands touched his face. With 
 an effort he grasped it. 
 
 " Clarissa," he murmured, looking at Eleanor, 
 " forgive me. I did not know your belief meant 
 so much. Let us begin over again." 
 
 Before Eleanor could speak, he became insen- 
 sible again, with the crucifix tight in his grasp.
 
 138 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND 
 
 XL 
 
 " Show me the Father's face, O Lord! " Faber. 
 
 ELEANOK, in charge of Belinda, was hurried to 
 her room. She never thought of disobeying Dr. 
 Talbot. The Judge had brought her up in the 
 salutary doctrine that a physician was to be obeyed 
 with military precision. He assured the young 
 girl that her father was not dying, and that was 
 enough. 
 
 It was after midnight. The soft promise of the 
 evening had not been kept. A storm of frosty 
 rain was pelting against the north side of the 
 house, much to Belinda's disgust. She was di- 
 vided between her fear for the crops for Belinda 
 always read the agricultural column in the Red- 
 wood Herald, and a vague uneasiness lest her 
 conduct in the matter of the letter might have 
 had something to do with the present catastrophe. 
 Belinda was high tempered and impulsive, and 
 she had a conscience. 
 
 " I never felt so much in need of spiritooal 
 consolation," she said, having kindly told Eleanor 
 that she guessed the doctor would have to draw 
 a good deal of blood before the Judge " came to." 
 Eleanor, too, felt much in need of consolation; 
 but Belinda was not given to excessive sympathy. 
 Death and sickness made more or less " work " for
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 139 
 
 her ; she had become so familiar with them that 
 they had become commonplace. 
 
 " I read a good deal in the papers about Colum- 
 bus, and I haven't much against him, except I 
 think he might have been more enlightened in 
 religious matters. But why did he go and dis- 
 cover a climate like this ? He might have done 
 better. Just think of the thousands of apple 
 blossoms that hail is nipping off. It makes a body 
 sick." 
 
 Eleanor felt that if Belinda went on with her 
 prattle she must go mad. And yet she did not 
 dare to " dismiss " her. Belinda went and came 
 as she listed. She, however, did not expect a 
 reply to her last remark, which was only a gro- 
 tesque expression of her discontent with herself. 
 
 "Dr. Talbot's all for bleeding. He's of the 
 old school. And I must say that I'm in favor of 
 bleeding myself. I have no patience with a doctor 
 that doesn't bleed. Simeon Stokes, Mr. Stokes' 
 father, would never have been the man he was if 
 he hadn't been bled repeatedly when he was 
 young. Leeches are good enough in their way, 
 but I don't hold much to leeches " 
 
 " Belinda," interrupted Eleanor, faintly, " I 
 fancy Dr. Talbot may need you. I'll rest in the 
 easy-chair here until he asks for me." 
 
 " He'll not ask for you," said Belinda, confi- 
 dently. "You mean well, but you couldn't
 
 140 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 stand the sight of bleeding. I was brought up 
 different." 
 
 Belinda turned down the night-lamp and went 
 out. Eleanor locked the door. She was relieved. 
 At least her father would not die. Her heart 
 went up in a glad burst of thankfulness. Let him 
 live, she cried out in her heart, and she would 
 endure anything.. All misfortunes seemed small 
 to her now. When he should recover sufficiently, 
 she would ask him the meaning of the letter she 
 had shown to Mrs. Desmond ; she felt sure that 
 he could clear it up. She would never doubt that 
 dear, dear father again; it gave her a strange, 
 inexplicable pleasure to remember that he had 
 touched the crucifix so tenderly. 
 
 Now if he should die she would not feel so 
 wretched about it. He had never scoffed at re- 
 ligion; he had laughed at a great many things 
 which he called Calvinistic, but he had never 
 mocked at Christianity. Eleanor had never been 
 anxious about her father's spiritual welfare, but she 
 had been anxious about his health ; she had been 
 anxious that he should not worry himself about 
 his " investments " ; she had wished that he would 
 go oftener to church with her, because it " looked 
 so queer " for him to stay at home ; and she had 
 prayed that he might restore to Patrick Desmond 
 anything that might be his. She had not thought 
 seriously of his possible death ; it seemed to her
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 141 
 
 that all her trials were over when her mother had 
 died. It was only a few days before her mother's 
 death that the words had been spoken which had 
 filled her mind with those questions concerning 
 her father, questions which arose all the more 
 strongly in her mind because the Judge seemed 
 unconscious of them. Her mother had said to 
 her one day, after a long silence : 
 
 " I have sacrificed my conscience to your father, 
 Nora. When the time comes, do you prefer your 
 conscience to everything else in the world. A 
 great wrong has been done, a great wrong." 
 
 And then Eleanor had caught her mother in 
 her arms and said eagerly : 
 
 " Let the wrong be repaired, mother." 
 
 " It is too late." And she had added, wearily : 
 " Too late too late." Then a sudden flush had 
 crossed her face, as it often did during her sick- 
 ness, and she had whispered in Eleanor's ear: 
 " See that Patrick Desmond has his rights : your 
 father must give back what he has taken." 
 
 That was all. An interruption had occurred ; 
 and Mrs. Redwood sank rapidly after that. It 
 had been enough. Like the three pomegranate 
 seeds which, eaten by Proserpine, made all the 
 difference to her between darkness and light, 
 those few words had made Eleanor's life anxious 
 when it might have been serene. She went over 
 all this now, or, rather, it passed through her
 
 142 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 mind ; and she said to herself that there must be 
 some mistake. At any rate, all her doubts, once 
 so important to her, seemed mere trifles in the 
 face of this awfully real calamity. After all, her 
 father would not die, the doctor had said it. 
 
 Yet the doctor might be wrong; and if he 
 were ! Eleanor shuddered. Death took a new 
 aspect. Her mother had passed away by degrees ; 
 there had been mounds of flowers, singing by a 
 quartette, a few eloquent words, and a still more 
 eloquent prayer. Death had been hard and sad 
 enough, but Eleanor had endured it. Now she 
 felt that she could not endure it again. She 
 stretched out her hands in the gloom ; the words 
 from " In Memoriam " came to her ; she was an 
 infant crying in the night, 
 
 " And with no language but a cry." 
 
 What would become of her father if he were 
 to pass away ? Where would he go ? Should she 
 ever meet him again ? He was good, he had 
 been the best father in the world to her. But he 
 did not believe or, at least, he said he " did not 
 know.' Still, he had almost kissed the crucifix. 
 Had he begun to believe? He was not good 
 enough for heaven. She knew that Mr. Stokes, who 
 was fresh from his seminary, would say that the 
 mere tenderness to a crucifix would not admit a 
 man to heaven ; and Mr. Stokes would say, too, that
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 143 
 
 there was only one other place. Oh I if her father 
 should die that night, there must be some way 
 out. If she had only asked Patrick Desmond ; 
 he might know. In the dull glow of the lamp 
 shone the face of the Madonna. Somehow it 
 seemed to take the young girl nearer to God. 
 After all, He must be a friend, He who had 
 come down to earth and been cradled by such a 
 Mother. A slight hope unreasonable, some 
 people would have called it kindled in her heart. 
 After a time her tired mind lost itself in sleep ; 
 and through her dreams, like a recurrent theme 
 in a symphony, shone the face of the Madonna. 
 
 On the next day Judge Redwood was better. 
 Dr. Talbot's assistant and a nurse were with him. 
 Dr. Talbot said that he had evidently had some 
 great shock ; he was not the sort of man to go to 
 pieces unless there was some mental trouble. He 
 recommended quiet. 
 
 The doctor had said that Eleanor must stay 
 away from her father! She was sitting in her 
 room, feeling very thankful that there was a pros- 
 pect of her father's recovery, when she heard 
 Desmond's voice at the door. Her heart bounded. 
 If she could only see him for a moment. Belinda 
 answered his inquiry, and he was gone. 
 
 " Young Desmond was here," Belinda said, 
 " asking about your pa. He seemed real anxious. 
 I gave him the string of beads with the cross to
 
 144 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 it. I didn't like the looks of that thing with 
 strangers comin' in and out " 
 
 " You had no right, Belinda " began Eleanor. 
 
 " You needn't be so sharp about it," answered 
 Belinda, in an injured tone. " I said I guess you 
 hadn't much need for them, and he said he meant 
 you to keep 'em ; so I took 'em back, and put 'em 
 under Baxter's * Saint's Rest,' in the parlor. He 
 is going to New York this evening." 
 
 " To New York ! " exclaimed Eleanor. 
 
 " Why not ? I guess he ain't tied to Redwood," 
 returned Belinda. 
 
 Why not, indeed ? What right had Eleanor to 
 feel disappointed? Nevertheless it was with a 
 sense of bitter disappointment that she turned her 
 face toward the window to hide it from Belinda. 
 
 " Will he stay ? " she asked. " I suppose he 
 is going to visit friends." 
 
 " He's going for good," said Belinda, watching 
 the young girl with interest. " I don't suppose 
 his friends live in Fifth Avenue though they 
 may," she added, with a sniff. " The Irish bob 
 up everywhere. You can never tell." 
 
 After a time Eleanor became ashamed of the 
 interest she could not help manifesting in Des- 
 mond. She tried to laugh at herself. A month 
 ago she almost despised his very name, and never 
 heard it without irritation. She recalled her con- 
 versation about him over the tea table. How all
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 145 
 
 the affectations of " society " fell away before 
 realities. She was no longer thoughtlessly trying 
 to escape from the monotonous life around her, 
 by grasping at everything that could bring her 
 nearer to a more sophisticated civilization. She 
 had a glimpse into the reality of life ; she shud- 
 dered, as if a presentiment had come to her. Des- 
 mond did not seem to her to be the ideal man ; but 
 he believed firmly, and in spiritual things he was 
 stronger than she was. In this her father, her 
 ideal man, failed. What, after all, was life but a 
 burden that must be carried ? If she could only 
 have known Desmond a little longer he might 
 have helped her. And she had been unkind to 
 him. 
 
 Belinda fluttered in at this moment, and an- 
 nounced Mr. Stokes. 
 
 " He doesn't look well, poor dear young man. 
 I was that flustered I went to the door with my 
 kitchen apron on. Do keep him talkin' till I 
 finish a batch of crullers, and I'll bring a nice 
 jaess into the parlor." 
 
 And Belinda hurried away. 
 
 If Eleanor had been a belle of society one of 
 those Psyches of modern times who are analytical 
 in the study of mankind, one would easily con- 
 clude that she had found a new specimen. She 
 was plainly anxious to meet Mr. Stokes, so 
 anxious that she did not even stop to adjust the
 
 146 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 bow of ribbon at her throat; but Eleanor had 
 none of the qualities of the young women of 
 society. 
 
 Mr. Stokes, who had called in form, sat on the 
 edge of a chair, with his hat in one hand and his 
 card in the other. He had carefully written 
 " Ripley J. Stokes " on a large card ; but as 
 Belinda had ignored it, he now held it rather 
 awkwardly in his hand. As Eleanor entered, he 
 was inspired to drop it on the floor and to press 
 it under his boot-heel. This gave him great relief. 
 
 He had read in a book of etiquette he and 
 Patrick Desmond had often spoken about it 
 that a man making a formal call should hold on 
 to his hat. Eleanor had probably read a different 
 book; for she seized his hat gently but firmly, 
 and an amiable struggle ensued. Eleanor put the 
 hat on the piano, and the ice was broken. 
 
 Mr. Ripley J. Stokes was slight and delicate- 
 looking, with an expression of great kindliness. 
 His large brown eyes were very pleasant to most 
 people, because they had a respectfully-listening 
 expression. He would have been more interest- 
 ing to people in general if he had not limited the 
 care of his dress to a large half-moon of glossy 
 brown hair, which he trained gracefully over his 
 forehead; and to the no less careful cultivation of 
 light-blue neckties. Nevertheless, Mr. Stokes was 
 "nice," and everybody in Redwood liked nim.
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 147 
 
 The " waterfall " and the necktie might repel, but 
 who is too fastidious to resist good feeling for a 
 man who listens to everything with a pair of soft, 
 respectful eyes? 
 
 Eleanor felt the consolation and the flattery of 
 those eyes although it did occur to her that he 
 had put on his summer coat too early. 
 
 "I thought I'd drop in," Mr. Stokes said, 
 gently. " Belinda asked me to come ; though I 
 feared you would not see me, as I saw Mr. Par- 
 tridge going away." 
 
 Mr. Partridge was the Presbyterian minister, 
 whom the artful Belinda had sent away. 
 
 " I am very glad to see you. My father is 
 somewhat better. I was afraid he would die." 
 
 " ' The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh 
 away,' " observed Mr. Stokes. " If your father 
 had died you would, I am sure, have cast your 
 burden on the Lord." 
 
 The interest faded out of Eleanor's eyes. " It 
 would have been very hard," she said. " Do you 
 think my father could have gone to Heaven if " 
 
 The listening eyes did not help her out. 
 
 " If," she went on, " if the worst had hap- 
 pened?" 
 
 "Death is not the worst," answered the young 
 man, evasively. 
 
 " But would the worst have happened to my 
 father? You know my father, and you are almost 
 a minister. Surely you can tell me."
 
 148 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 Mr. Stokes dropped his eyes. "The wind is 
 coming up, I am afraid the apple crop will be 
 a failure this year." 
 
 " No, no ! " cried Eleanor ; " you cannot avoid 
 my question. Do you think my father would 
 have gone to Heaven? Do you think he could 
 have gone to Heaven at once, just as he was ? " 
 
 " Not just as he was," said Mr. Stokes, after 
 an embarrassing pause. " Your father was some- 
 what liberal in his religious opinions." 
 
 " I know I know ! " exclaimed Eleanor, 
 eagerly. " But last night he almost kissed the 
 crucifix I happened to have ; and he looked for 
 a moment almost as if he were a Christian." 
 
 " The crucifix ! " cried Mr. Stokes, in alarm ; 
 and then he calmed down, and recalled some of 
 his lectures in the seminary. "Ah, Miss Red- 
 wood," he said, "symbols are nothing. Did he 
 say in his heart, ' I know that my Redeemer liv- 
 eth ' ? Did he cast his sins on Jesus ? " 
 
 " I don't know I don't know," Eleanor said, 
 rising from her chair and walking toward the 
 window. "But I thought that there might be a 
 chance for him after his look at the crucifix last 
 night ; I believe there will be a chance for him 
 if he should die to-night." 
 
 Mr. Stokes sympathized deeply with her agita- 
 tion. She was both beautiful and graceful, and 
 she was in trouble. Mr. Stokes had every temp-
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 149 
 
 tation to promise Heaven for her father, but his 
 principles were too strong for him. Agnosticism 
 was bad; and he felt that the crucifix was not 
 only bad, but un-American ; it seemed to threaten 
 the public schools in some way. 
 
 " There must be some place for good men like 
 my father, who want to believe, but who don't 
 know how; who have unconsciously begun to 
 believe, and who at the last do as my father has 
 done. There must be." 
 
 Eleanor's voice became passionate. Mr. Stokes 
 looked at his hat longingly. 
 
 " Andover has been saying something to that 
 effect, but we haven't taken it up yet." 
 
 There was silence. A newsboy's voice was 
 heard crying out loudly: "Water in the Fly- 
 Away Mine ! Extra extra ! Fly-Away Mine 
 filled with water ! Extra edition ! " 
 
 " Why, that's papa's mine ! " said the young 
 girl, listening. 
 
 Yes." 
 
 After all, the calamity had its value, in the 
 emergency : it might divert Eleanor's attention 
 from the other world. 
 
 "It may make him poor?" she said, interroga- 
 tively. " Ah ! well, I don't care," she continued, 
 " as long as I have my hands." 
 
 And as she stretched out her taper fingers, the 
 grace and pathos of the action overcame Mr. 
 Stokes' prejudices.
 
 150 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 " I am sure," he said, " that the Andover 
 people are right." 
 
 Belinda came in with the crullers and a benig- 
 nant smile. As she was showing Mr. Stokes to 
 the door, she said : " You will be able to go back 
 to college soon. Mrs. Bayard is going to manage 
 about the money; it's to go to you, not to the 
 Kindergarten " 
 
 Mr. Stokes frowned. " Belinda," he said, softly, 
 "I can't go back to college. It's not money I 
 most need : it's to know what I ought to believe." 
 
 Belinda raised her hands in amazement. " Sich 
 words ! " she said. " Sich words ! Why, if you 
 talk that way, where am I to look for spiritooal 
 consolation ? "
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICE DESMOND. 151 
 
 XII. 
 
 " Fresh woods and pastures new." 
 
 PATRICK DESMOND'S journey to New York 
 was apparently uneventful ; but to him he had 
 never travelled more than thirty miles outside of 
 Redwood it was full of events. He observed 
 much, he learned much. Ever and anon a pang 
 shot through his heart. There was still a great 
 deal of the boy in Desmond, and his eyes became 
 hazy more than once as he thought of the kind, 
 cheerful face of the dear old mother. At times 
 another and a younger face arose before him, and 
 he sighed as he thought of it. 
 
 It was half-past five o'clock in the afternoon 
 when he reached the Grand Central station, in 
 New York. Its gloom oppressed him and its 
 bustle pleased him. He said to himself that, after 
 all, it was a noble thing to be even a small part of 
 such a great city. He carefully enquired the way 
 to Harlem, purchased a large package of dubious 
 candy for little Miley from an Italian at the cor- 
 ner, and gave himself up to the pleasure of his 
 first ride in a car of the elevated railway. 
 
 After he had reached his street in Harlem, he 
 began his search for the Grand Windsor. He 
 expected to find a hotel : he found a ten-story 
 building, of red brick and brown stone, with a
 
 152 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 massive door, over which was carved ornately the 
 name " Grand Windsor." The heavy glass door 
 was opened by a small page covered with diagonal 
 lines of brass buttons. 
 
 " What yer want? " asked the page, with a bul- 
 lying air, that struck Desmond as inappropriate. 
 
 " Does Mr. Galligan live here ? " 
 
 " Galligan de Assembly man ? You bet he does 
 when he's at home. Just you ring de fift bell 
 on de right side." 
 
 Desmond obeyed meekly. There was an air 
 about the little creature that impressed him ; and 
 the little creature knew how to make the most of 
 his buttons and his Bowery accent. 
 
 The bell tinkled. Desmond heard a voice 
 whisper, " Who's there ? " He hesitated a moment, 
 and then, seeing the mouth of a speaking-tube, 
 called, " Patrick Desmond. " A door opened 
 with a click, and he ascended a thickly-carpeted, 
 musty-smelling stairway. The page kindly called 
 after him : 
 
 " Fift floor and don't you forget it." 
 
 He reached a little door, on which he read, 
 " Hon. M. Galligan," and was saluted by a burst 
 of melody. 
 
 Mrs. Miles Galligan had been in a state of 
 expectancy all day. She had never seen Mrs. 
 Desmond ; but, as she knew that her aunt had
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 frequently helped her mother in special seasons of 
 adversity, she was particularly anxious to impress 
 Patrick with her present splendor, and to insinu- 
 ate that this splendor was not of recent origin. 
 Patrick Desmond had the blood of the Mulligans 
 in his veins : that was sufficient to make her 
 anxious to defend him against the world, but it 
 would take her a long time to forget the irritation 
 occasioned by the remembrance of the kindness 
 of his mother. 
 
 When Nellie married Miles Galligan, and had 
 left Lacy's shop to take her place, as she fondly 
 hoped, in regions where the diamond scintillates 
 by day and night, she had been a very sprightly 
 young person. Her giggle was perpetual, her 
 bang redundant, and no picnic or assembly had 
 been complete without the most indefatigable dan- 
 cer in her district. But Nellie had grown stout 
 and a little fretful. Her manner had been toned 
 down by the cares of housekeeping and the de- 
 mands of little Miley, a fat and combative 
 child, with his father's face in miniature. And 
 Miles himself was a care. Nellie had fondly 
 believed that she could coerce Miles out of the 
 selfishness which had made the lives of his sisters 
 miserable. She believed in her power to force 
 him to work, and at the same time to allow him 
 that liberty particularly in the matter of 
 drinking which his sisters had tried to restrict.
 
 154 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 At first it was very well. Miles was proud of 
 Nellie. His brother-in-law, John Longworthy, gave 
 him an allowance, which had been continued ; and 
 she was enabled to dress in a way that dazzled her 
 old acquaintances and made her sisters-in-law un- 
 speakably indignant. True, the flaming Gains- 
 borough hat and the flamboyant redingote dis- 
 appeared ; but Nellie's new dressmakers, who were 
 famous among the gayest people of the East Side, 
 entered madly into her desire to fill Lize Brown 
 and some of her old friends with envy. They 
 succeeded, and Miles often declared his admiration 
 of Nellie's style." 
 
 But even the Longworthy allowance and Miles' 
 salary as a member of the Assembly could not 
 stand the strain of so much champagne at little 
 suppers given in the flat, and Nellie's careless 
 manner of housekeeping. Besides, Miles began 
 to miss many little comforts. He felt the want of 
 that ceaseless care which his sister Maiy had 
 lavished on him. And when little Miley came, he 
 was neglected altogether; and his temper was not 
 improved. Nellie, whose manners varied very 
 much according to her mood, had a temper too, 
 and a greater command of words than her husband. 
 Miles soon discovered that the fascinating dancer, 
 the belle of all the picnics, and the " best dresser " 
 in his district, was not exactly the wife for a man 
 of his temperament. He was somewhat afraid of
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 155 
 
 her ; but he had his remedy when she lost her tem- 
 per he could go out, and he did. 
 
 There were times when he bitterly accused his 
 sisters of having deserted him, and his mind was 
 in a chronic state of disgust at their ingratitude. 
 John Longworthy and Esther were in Europe, 
 amusing themselves ; yet he and his family were 
 wearing life away in a small flat in Harlem. 
 Arthur Fitzgerald and Mary had a pleasant house 
 down town, and all they had done for him and 
 Nellie was to invite them to dinner occasionally ; 
 and, when the Fitzgerald baby died, to send 
 Nellie a lot of little clothes, which Nellie, of 
 course, gave away. He hated such upstarts. 
 True, Mary did sometimes come around and talk 
 to Nellie ; but he couldn't see why she couldn't 
 take little Miley for a month or so at a time ; or, 
 better still, have his family live with her. She 
 and Arthur had no cares and a very large house. 
 Although Miles had his opinion of Nellie, which he 
 often expressed, he felt that she was his own, and 
 he resented anything that could be made to seem a 
 slight to her ; and her imagination was capable of 
 cultivating "slights" perennially, . where his sis- 
 ters were concerned. 
 
 Nellie was quick and plastic. At Lacy's she 
 had not been dissatisfied with her surroundings, 
 and even now she looked back at the period of the 
 Lady Rosebuds' ball with gentle regret. She had
 
 156 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 enjoyed herself, and she had not thought of the. 
 future. The atmosphere of the Grand Windsor 
 was very different from that of The Anchor. 
 Everything breathed of gentility and even fashion. 
 The caps of the nurse-girls were higher and their 
 aprons longer than on Fifth Avenue ; and Nellie, 
 who could not get a French maid, felt obliged to 
 force hers to speak Polish Hebrew to little Miley 
 when he took his airings. She soon learned that 
 a nurse who spoke English was impossible in the 
 best society of the Grand Windsor ; she had also 
 learned many other disturbing things. Among 
 these, to a limited extent, was the art of music. 
 Nellie had spent some time in cultivation of her x 
 voice and in acquiring several " pieces,'' under 
 the direction of Professor Fortescue, who prepared 
 " gents and ladies for the stage," in the Bowery, 
 two doors from the atelier for a time occupied by 
 Mr. Bastien, the photographer. 
 
 Nellie, in fact, had aspirations. These aspira- 
 tions would have made her a very useful woman, 
 had they not been so hopelessly misdirected. The 
 social surroundings of the tenement house had 
 dragged down the best that was in her, and yet it 
 was continually struggling to the surface. If she 
 had loved the gayety of the picnic and the as- 
 sembly, it was only natural. What other amuse- 
 ments had she ? It is the nature of young people 
 to long for amusement. Her home in the tene-
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 157 
 
 merit house was no home at all : it was a sleeping 
 place. Patrick Desmond's mother was no doubt 
 of stronger fibre than Nellie's mother ; but the 
 immeasurable difference that now separated Des- 
 mond from his cousin was in the fact that he had 
 a home. There is a great deal in blood: the 
 strain will out some time or other; but both 
 Desmond and his mother would have suffered 
 greatly had they been forced to dwell in the 
 squalor of The Anchor the tenement house in 
 which Nellie had lived and had her being. 
 
 Transplanted to that pretentious flat, the Grand 
 Windsor, Nellie had determined to make herself 
 worthy of her new environment ; and, unluckily, 
 the new environment was not much healthier for 
 her than the old tenement-house surroundings. 
 If she had lavished a month's savings on some 
 piece of finery in the old days, in order to crush 
 an envious rival of the glove department at Lacy's, 
 she was under similar temptations now to keep 
 beyond her neighbors in the flat, who, like herself, 
 were people who were creeping upward socially. 
 They were mostly in politics the contractor who 
 built the Grand Windsor having had special rea- 
 sons for lowering the rent to gentlemen with 
 " pulls " in the political world, and mostly, too, 
 in that stage of progress when the ladies wear 
 diamond earrings in the morning with a nglig$ 
 costume, and the gentlemen tell how many bottles
 
 158 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 of " wine " meaning champagne they have 
 drunk or are about to drink. 
 
 Even little Miley's perambulator became a sub- 
 ject of rivalry. That precious little creature had 
 been content with a plain carriage at first, but now 
 he drove in a gilded wicker-work shell, containing 
 old rose-colored cushions, and shaded by multi- 
 tudinous lace ruffles. This gorgeous equipage 
 had been purchased on the instalment plan ; and 
 the knowledge that the neighbors had become 
 aware of it, through an altercation her servant had 
 with the collector, had helped to indent the two 
 upright lines which were showing themselves on 
 Nellie's forehead. 
 
 Miles and his family were supposed to be living 
 temporarily in the Grand Windsor ; he kept rooms 
 down town, to which they resorted at certain 
 periods of the year, when electioneering was ab- 
 solutely necessary. 
 
 Beneath all Nellie's giggles and frills and friv- 
 olity there was a strong desire to do right. Since 
 her First Communion she had no regular religious 
 instructions ; an occasional sermon she never 
 had time on Sunday for the High Mass, except on 
 some special occasion, and the less frequent 
 reading of a good book from the parochial library, 
 made the sum of her religious exercises. But she 
 had never missed Mass in her life, and she went to 
 her " duty " with great regularity. She was not
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 159 
 
 singular in this : all the Catholic girls in The 
 Anchor did the same ; and the most inveterate 
 dancer and picnic-goer among them, knowing 
 much of evil through contact with it in her daily 
 life, was possessed of a purity of thought and act 
 to an extent which only the angels knew ; for men 
 are too apt to judge from appearances. 
 
 Nellie was ambitious ; she did not suffer from 
 Miles' selfishness after her marriage, as one would 
 who had been disappointed in the discovery of it. 
 She knew what to expect : selfishness was not un- 
 common in the male sex. Sometimes she felt how T 
 grateful she ought to be for not having to earn a 
 living for Miles. Had not Lize Brown married 
 Jim Smith, the gay, the d^bonnair ; and did she 
 not still occupy her place at Lacy's, while Jim 
 settled local politics on the corners? And little 
 Katie Grogan, wasn't she playing in " Cinder- 
 ella " at a dime museum, that her better half 
 might attend the races at Sheepshead Bay, when 
 he was not too " tired " to go out ? 
 
 Nellie was not disappointed in Miles : she was 
 disappointed in herself. She had intended to 
 reform Miles, to " mould " him ; and he was 
 undoubtedly afraid of her. Selfish, turbulent, 
 sheltered from all rude shocks by his sister Mary, 
 idle, selfish, too cowardly to be quite brutal, Miles 
 learned to be somewhat afraid of Nellie. But 
 familiarity bred a certain callousness ; and then, 
 he could always avoid a storm by keeping away.
 
 160 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 Miles had changed in two years. He had 
 grown stout and round, and had cultivated a 
 heavy mustache. His cheeks had almost closed 
 up over his eyes, and when he laughed nothing 
 of them could be seen. His face was ruddy at all 
 times ; on the cheeks there was a dark red tint, 
 which complaisant people took for health. Miles 
 himself was always " complaining "; and when he 
 " complained " he found, as he often said to ad- 
 miring constituents, that whiskey was cheaper 
 than a doctor. 
 
 Nellie was disgusted with herself because she 
 could not control Miles. She was quick to see 
 possibilities. She measured herself with the peo- 
 ple she met, and felt that she was clever. " I 
 could learn anything," she said to herself, " if some- 
 body would only teach me how." But when on one 
 occasion Mary Fitzgerald, Miles' sister, had gently 
 proposed to help her in certain branches of knowl- 
 edge, culinary and otherwise, Nellie had toj.d her 
 that " she must know that she was as good as the 
 Galligans any time, and that anybody that took 
 her for an ignoramus would be left." 
 
 Mary had retired, sighing. She was still full of 
 solicitude for Miles, that dear Miles whom her 
 mother had left to her care. There were times 
 even when she reproached herself for having mar- 
 ried, and, in so doing, deserted that sweet little 
 brother, to whom she ought to be a guardian.
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 161 
 
 Arthur Fitzgerald at first laughed at this ; finally 
 he resigned himself to it. After all, her devotion 
 to Miles, most unreasonable and foolish as it 
 seemed, was his wife's only fault. 
 
 Nellie, too proud to admit her ignorance, read 
 anxiously all the advice to women printed in the 
 various Sunday papers. She managed to acquire 
 a knowledge of the usual etiquette of life, but her 
 housekeeping was so atrocious that Miles got into 
 the habit of often alluding to the superior charms 
 of Mary's housekeeping. A day came when Nel- 
 lie felt that she could almost stab Miles every time 
 he uttered his sister's name. 
 
 Nellie had become rather good-looking, ac- 
 cording to the opinion of Miles' friends. She was 
 stouter : she had what people called " a presence "; 
 her bang was as glossy as ever. Her " society " 
 manner was rather pompous, as she had studied it 
 from the stage, altogether, she was a mixture of 
 pretension, vulgarity, boldness, sensitiveness, am- 
 bition, good sense, and good intentions. 
 
 She was keenly alive to the necessity of im- 
 pressing Patrick Desmond with her present position 
 in life. Mrs. Desmond had apprized her of the 
 date of her son's coming. At exactly five o'clock 
 Miley was brought into the little parlor. He was 
 a bald-headed child, with chubby fists, and a ten- 
 dency to scowl. He was attired in a bluish-white 
 lace frock, adorned with an enormous sash of pink
 
 162 THE SUCCESS OF PATBICK DESMOND. 
 
 ribbon, with a spot here and there, which Nellie 
 knew nobody would notice. 
 
 The parlor was a wilderness of crimson plush : 
 the chairs and sofa were blazing with the stuff ; the 
 lambrequin was heavy with roses and sunflowers 
 embroidered on it ; and mats and tidies of red, all 
 showing lumps of fruit and flowers, were every- 
 where. A crayon of Miles hung in a big gilded 
 frame over the piano, which was also heavily 
 draped with crimson plush. Nellie had attired 
 herself in what she called a " watteau pleat." It 
 had a long train ; it was pink and green, and, ex- 
 cept for a grease spot here and there, which helped 
 it to match little Miley's sash, it was doubtless a 
 thing of beauty. Diamond earrings and rings 
 flashed whenever Nellie moved. 
 
 Miles lounged in at five o'clock ; he put his tali 
 white hat on the floor, took out a fat cigar, and 
 threw himself at full-length on the sofa. 
 
 " Get up, " said Nellie, sharply. " I'm expect- 
 ing my cousin." 
 
 " Can't help it," answered Miles, in a drowsy 
 tone. " I don't want any dinner. Lunched at 
 the As tor ; ate a lot " 
 
 " And drank a lot, " said Nellie, more sharply. 
 
 "See here, Nell,' began Miles, jumping up, 
 while little Miley bowled preparatory to the 
 uttering of a howl, " if you're going to talk that 
 way before this cousin of yours "
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 163 
 
 The bell tinkled. 
 
 " There he is ! v ' cried Nellie ; " there he is ! " 
 She plumped down on the piano-stool, raised her 
 eyes soulfully to Miles' picture, and, while picking 
 out an accompaniment with her right hand, raised 
 her voice : 
 
 " Only a violet, dawling, 
 
 Only a violet bloo-oo ; 
 Only a violet, dawling, 
 
 Shall I give to you-oo. 
 Only a flower, dearest, 
 
 Only a flower, swee-ee-eet, 
 The earliest bloom, the rarest, 
 
 To lay at your fee-ee-eet. 
 Only a violet, dawling, 
 
 Only a violet, dear ; 
 On-lee a violet, sweetest, 
 
 Onlee-ee a vi-o-o-o-let fair ! " 
 
 This was the music Patrick Desmond heard as 
 he entered. 
 
 " Dear me ! " exclaimed Nellie, shaking her ear- 
 rings in the most modest confusion. " How you 
 startled us ! Miley, my love, as he didn't send up 
 a card, I suppose this is Patrick Desmond. " 
 
 Desmond's face flushed. To be in the presence 
 of so much style was embarrassing enough ; but at 
 that moment he caught little Miley 's eye, and the 
 infant scowled and burst into a malevolent howl, 
 that made him wish that he were back in Redwood. 
 
 "How you startled us," said Nellie, sweetly. 
 " I'll hardly have time to change my dress for 
 dinner, but I forget everything when I sing."
 
 164 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 " Have a drink? " asked Miles, shaking hands. 
 " Never mind the old woman : come right into the 
 bosom of the family." 
 
 " My cousin doesn't drink," said Nellie, with a 
 sharpness that startled Desmond. Then she gave 
 little Miley a frosty slap, that seemed to congeal 
 the sound in the throat of that beautiful and pre- 
 cious child.
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 165 
 
 XIII. 
 
 JASPER. Who are most easily deceived ? 
 
 JOYCE. The true ; but the false are deceived the longest. 
 
 Old Play. 
 
 DESMOND'S first evening with his relatives was 
 not gay. Miles drank a great deal of beer at 
 dinner, which was very ceremonious, but very 
 bad. Nellie kept up a series of remarks in an 
 undertone to the ' maid, who seemed to resent 
 them ; and Miles winked occasionally at Patrick 
 when Nellie's " society manner " became too op- 
 pressive. As the beer went down Miles' spirits 
 rose, and he even dared to joke about the finger- 
 bowls. Nellie darted fiery glances at him, and 
 her manner and conversation became more and 
 more elegant. She watched eagerly for some ex- 
 pression of surprise or admiration on the face of 
 her cousin from the country ; and she began to be 
 bitterly disappointed as all her best china passed 
 in review before him. 
 
 The truth was that Desmond was hungry, and 
 Nellie's new soup plates and decorated entree 
 dishes did not compensate for burned soup and 
 what seemed to be codfish on toast. If Nellie 
 had known that he was impressed with the idea 
 that she was immensely rich, she would have 
 been satisfied. To Patrick's mind, the maid in 
 the white cap and apron bringing in a variety of
 
 166 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 pretty dishes, the silver on the sideboard, the 
 flowers and thin glasses, meant riches. He did 
 think that the little coffee-cups were very pretty, 
 and he would have been glad to say something 
 pleasant in order to make his cousin feel that her 
 efforts had not been in vain ; but he had learned 
 the first lesson in the provincial code of etiquette 
 never to praise anything. In Redwood a com- 
 pliment meant that the utterer of it was either 
 rustically unacquainted with the things he ad- 
 mired, or that he was lying for some fell purpose. 
 
 Although the serving of ice cream in a lace frill 
 struck Patrick with fear at first for it looked 
 like soap, and afterward with admiration for, 
 on a second examination, it seemed very dainty, 
 he made no remark. It was in vain that Nellie 
 loudly regretted, while the maid smiled cynically, 
 that she had no time "to prepare. If she had 
 really expected him, she would not have put 
 before him an ordinary family dinner ; it must 
 seem so inferior to his mother's. But," Nellie 
 added, with a glance at little Miley, who had 
 painted himself and his high-chair red with 
 tomato sauce, " it is hard when one has a baby 
 to look after." Patrick looked at Miley, whose 
 aspect was ferocious and repellent, and agreed 
 heartily that it must be hard. 
 
 Nellie bit her lip; what a stupid idiot this 
 cousin of hers was. And her feelings were not
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 167 
 
 soothed when she heard giggles in the kitchen, 
 and observed that Miles seemed to be choking 
 with laughter. 
 
 " You really will not tell your mother that I 
 am a bad housekeeper, or criticise the way we 
 poor New Yorkers serve a dinner; now, will you? 
 
 dear ! that dreadful girl has actually given you 
 a spoon for your cream, instead of a fork." 
 
 Miles burst into a vacant laugh, and then said 
 he couldn't help it. Patrick's face reddened. In 
 the first place, he was thinking that he would tell 
 his mother how much better her cooking was than 
 the food prepared for the table even of the rich- 
 est statesman, and served with awful solemnity 
 on beautiful china. And Nellie's speech had 
 caught him red-handed in the thought. His em- 
 barrassed silence and Miles' laugh set the match 
 to Nellie's temper. 
 
 "What do you mean, Miley Galligan?" de- 
 manded Nellie. " You ought to have better sense 
 than to grin at nothing. You've no more gump- 
 tion than a flea. It's not your impudence to me 
 
 1 mind, but it's your example to little Miley. 
 You're not fit to have a child that will fill a proper 
 station in life." 
 
 Miles made no answer ; life, after all, is short, 
 and a bad dinner is not better for a verbal battle. 
 But suddenly Nellie recovered herself. The din- 
 ner was nearly over; there might be a chance 
 yet of impressing her cousin.
 
 168 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 **. Did you go out much at at Beachwood, 
 I think you call it ? " said Nellie, with her best, 
 artificial smile, learned partly from her observa- 
 tions at Lacy's counter, and partly by visits to 
 the theatre. 
 
 " Redwood," said Patrick. " Oh ! yes, I took a 
 walk every night." 
 
 " Oh ! I mean socially," observed Nellie. " I 
 suppose you were in the swim, your mother 
 made a very elegant marriage, I have heard said." 
 
 This was intended as a hint that Patrick should 
 try to impress Miles. The New York Mulligans 
 could not be made impressive ; but, by judicious 
 manipulation, the Redwood Mulligans might be 
 exhibited through a vista of splendor. Patrick 
 reddened again and did not answer ; the allusion 
 to swimming puzzled him. Miles winked trium- 
 phantly at Nellie, and made the mental note that 
 the Redwood Mulligans couldn't be " much " ; he 
 wouldn't let her throw them in his face, any way. 
 
 In despair, Nellie rubbed little Miley to a sem- 
 blance of whiteness, while he howled, and led the 
 way to the parlor. Here Patrick made a redeem- 
 ing step by presenting the paper of candy to the 
 amiable child, who showed his teeth, with an 
 expression that was less turbulent than usual. 
 
 Nellie took a low wicker-work chair and put 
 her arm on the back of the sofa, on which Miles 
 assumed his usual reclining position. Nellie
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 169 
 
 intended that Patrick should take this to be a 
 picture of true domestic harmony, and so report 
 it to his mother. But the young man was strug- 
 gling with one of Miles' fat cigars, the pores of 
 which seemed to be stopped up. 
 
 " I may as well have an understanding with 
 you to-night," Miles said, making himself vague 
 through a cloud of smoke. " I can hardly afford 
 to keep a secretary, because there is no appropri- 
 ation for it at Albany. There's always a lot of 
 talk about economy, just as if the American 
 people, more especially the people of New York, 
 didn't hate meanness. But there's always a way 
 of beating the devil around the stump, you'd 
 better believe; and I won't have to go down 
 deep in my pocket to pay your salary." 
 
 Here Miles laughed, and little Miley, startled, 
 began to howl. " Oh I choke the kid," said his 
 father, amiably. " He's a voice like his mother. 
 I say, Nell, will you sing something for us after a 
 wliile ? " he added, noticing a frown on her brow. 
 
 " If you stick to your work," he went on, ad- 
 dressing Desmond, " and if you're quick about it, 
 I'll put you in the way of having a home of your 
 own," Miles waved his hands complacently at 
 the red plush, which the flaring gas-light made 
 redder ; " and a good one, too. There's money to 
 be had, my boy, if you know where to find it." 
 
 Desmond's eyes brightened ; he ceased to pump
 
 170 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 at the congested cigar. He had no desire to be 
 like these people, prosperous as they seemed to 
 be ; but he was most anxious to attain the same 
 degree of prosperity. 
 
 " You'll not have much hard work," said 
 Nellie, encouragingly ; " and you'll be introduced 
 to all our friends as my relative. And that'll 
 help you very much, because a stranger in New 
 York ain't of much account unless he is prop- 
 erly " 
 
 "Oh! bother, Nell," interrupted Miles. "A 
 young fellow will find plenty of friends, if he 
 wants to go into politics. Now, I've got to have 
 my letters written," continued Miles, knocking 
 the ashes from his cigar with fingers that shook a 
 great deal. " I never was much of a penman, 
 and they pile up. Nell's seen some of your 
 writing, and she says you have a good fist." 
 
 " He has," remarked Nellie, emphatically. " His 
 letters written for his mother in answer to mine 
 are as clear as print." 
 
 " Well, I must hurry up this talk," said Miles. 
 " I've an engagement with a few friends. Ques- 
 tion of centralization of supplies, important 
 combination for the best interests of the people, 
 Hoffman House at eight. Now, I'll tell you what 
 you must do. Can you write a little speech for 
 me occasionally?" 
 
 Desmond hesitated.
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 171 
 
 " A little thing for a picnic, you know ? Or 
 just a trifle at a ratification meeting with a 
 funny bit in it ? " 
 
 " I'll try," said Desmond, doubtfully. And as 
 he thought of the possibilities held out by Miles, 
 some words he had learned by heart out of a book 
 ran through his mind : " Do that which is assigned 
 thee, and thou canst not hope too much or dare 
 too much." He rebuked himself with a certain 
 shame, for applying them to the making of Miles' 
 speeches. 
 
 " I like a little style about the after-dinner 
 speeches : a touch of Latin, I have forgotten it 
 all myself. You can't do that ? " said Miles, as 
 Desmond shook his head. "Ah, well, I'll remem- 
 ber enough. At any rate, you can always get 
 something appropriate at the back of the diction- 
 ary. There are some other little things you need 
 to do, but I'll think of them later. The letters 
 will not be much trouble. You can begin with a 
 big bundle of them to-morrow ; and take the after- 
 noon off, to see the town." 
 
 "What kind of letters?" asked Desmond, 
 doubtfully. " Do they need special knowledge ? " 
 
 " Of course they do," answered Miles. " But 
 I'll put you on to that. Say, Nell, did you see 
 that one from Mr. Markenstein ? " 
 
 " Of course I did," said Nellie, reproachfully. 
 " He's a good friend of yours, and he hasn't been 
 answered yet."
 
 172 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 " Oh ! well," returned Miles, jocosely, " Pat 
 here will fix that all right " 
 
 He stopped and stared at Desmond ; Nellie 
 opened her eyes in amazement, too. Patrick's 
 face had assumed an expression of disgust ; he put 
 his hand very firmly on Miles' arm. 
 
 " I am in the habit," he said, quietly, " of - 
 of reasoning with people who call me * Pat.' ' 
 
 Miles looked startled and then angry. Nellie 
 said to herself that such independence would not 
 do. After all, it would be better to hire some 
 poor creature that didn't have any backing. An- 
 other glance at Patrick's face made Miles conclude 
 rapidly that he had better be amiable ; and, be- 
 sides, a man with a grip like that might be all the 
 more valuable. 
 
 " Oh ! well, Mr. Desmond ; no offence," he said. 
 " Suppose you write Mr. Markenstein's letter ? 
 He is one of my most prominent constituents, and 
 he sent Nell here a batch of Passover bread, 
 'twas like hard-tack, but he meant well. All you 
 have to do is to write : ' Morris Markenstein, Esq.,' 
 and begin : ' Dear Mark, The Passover bread 
 you sent to Mrs. Galligan has been a real treat to 
 me and my family. Indeed my little boy cries for 
 it constantly.* That's pleasant and familiar. And 
 then you might add : ' Although not of your relig- 
 ious belief, I revere tenets which have produced 
 men like you.' That's neat ? "
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 173 
 
 Patrick said it was. 
 
 " You can write that, can't you ? Or there's 
 one to Giuseppe Galuppi, a great worker among 
 the Italians. You don't happen to know Italian ? 
 I often wish I had married an Italian woman," 
 said Miles, regretfully. " If I had an Italian wife, 
 I could sweep the district without trouble." 
 
 " I wish you had, " interposed Nellie, scorn- 
 fully. " You'd suit an Eyetalian better than me." 
 
 " Well, you may say it in this way : ' The bot- 
 tle of Chianti you sent to Mrs. Galligan has been 
 a real treat to me. My little boy will drink 
 nothing but it.' Work in the child when you 
 can ; the men don't care, but their wives always 
 read those letters. You've always got to put in 
 some taffy for the women. And at the end you 
 may say : ' Although not of the race that produced 
 Columbo, I should desire above all things to be a 
 native of that beautiful Naples that produced you.' 
 It always fetches them to speak of ^ their towns ; 
 for they're as jealous of one another as the Tips 
 and the Far-downs used to be when the Irish 
 hadn't been Americanized. Ain't it easy ? " 
 
 Desmond said it was, but his heart was heavy ; 
 there was something about Miles and the whole 
 business that repelled him. And yet he must 
 tread this road to the success he longed for. 
 
 Miles jumped up, and threw his cigar stump 
 into a spittoon that stood in the corner. " I must
 
 174 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 go," he said. " You'll sleep in the hall room to- 
 night, and to-morrow I'll take you to the Tivoli 
 House, where you are to board." 
 
 He kissed little Miley, threw him up in the air, 
 and was about to go, when Nellie suddenly asked 
 him whether he had forgotten that to-morrow night 
 was " engaged, Lize Smith's party, Jim's got 
 work, and they are going to have a few friends, 
 and if you don't go, they'll say you're stuck up, 
 and you'll lose votes. I could have killed that 
 Lize this afternoon ; she called, ' Nellie, Nellie I ' 
 at the speaking-tube, just as if we were in the 
 same positions. I don't know what the neighbors 
 thought." 
 
 " I can't go," replied Miles, with a yawn. " I 
 must go to a card-party. Political talk, you know, 
 at the Mayor's." And he winked at Desmond. 
 
 " But you must, " said Nellie, imperatively. 
 "Lize will raise the neighborhood against you." 
 
 "Well, take Desmond and go yourself. He 
 may like it, and you can keep my end up. But 
 don't put on too many airs, Nell, they don't 
 like it." 
 
 Nellie frowned and followed Miles to the door. 
 Patrick could hear the murmur of a subdued dia- 
 logue, in which her voice became almost pleading. 
 When she came in again, her face was turned 
 away. She took up little Miley, in spite of his 
 struggles.
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 175 
 
 " I must take this child to bed," she said, still 
 averting her face. " And, as you must be tired, 
 you can go into your room. Just open the door 
 near the piano. You'll find the gas lit and your 
 satchel there." 
 
 But another struggle with the cherub seemed to 
 restore her ; she raised her face, with her artificial 
 smile on it, and went on : " You have been made 
 a member of our family from the first, Mr. Des- 
 mond or Patrick, as I guess I may call you. 
 Make yourself at home, and don't be bashful." 
 
 And she went on humming, 
 
 " Only a violet, dawling, 
 Only a violet bloo-o! " 
 
 Patrick entered a room which to him, accus- 
 tomed to the larger rooms of the country, seemed 
 a mere box. Its white walls were unadorned save 
 by a colored print of Murillo's " Immaculate Con- 
 ception." The sense of loneliness left him when 
 he saw this ; for it is a picture which has raised 
 more hearts to heaven than perhaps any other. 
 Raphael's pictures are easily vulgarized; but 
 neither bad paper, bad printing, nor crude color 
 seems able to spoil Murillo's loveliest creation. 
 
 Patrick drew the one chair in the room over 
 to the window. The street was crowded with 
 people ; the crash of the elevated railroad trains 
 sounded in his ears : there appeared to be voices
 
 176 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 everywhere. A pianist, seemingly very near him, 
 though really in the next flat, was drumming a 
 popular waltz. The electric light flooded part of 
 the street with a white glow; the rest it left in 
 greater gloom than that of night. He remembered 
 a print in Dore's " Paradise Lost " which was like 
 the street, in its exaggerated light and shade. 
 How could any man sleep, he asked himself, in 
 such a place ? This flat was like a crevice in the 
 wall of a great rock, where birds built nests, one 
 above the other. He could not imagine this as a 
 home, although he was impressed by the wealth of 
 its inhabitants. Patrick Desmond had not yet 
 learned that appearances are exceedingly decep- 
 tive. He was like that small country boy in the 
 old-fashioned children's book, who took the gilding 
 on the mirror frames for real gold. 
 
 Miles repelled him, but no doubt Miles was the 
 typical man of power ; and Nellie's elegance amazed 
 and impressed him. She was a finer lady evi- 
 dently than Eleanor Redwood ; she had more airs 
 and graces ; and Eleanor had never worn diamonds. 
 There was no doubt about it that, as a woman of 
 the world, Nellie was the more elegant of the two. 
 He imagined that Nellie, at Washington, in a 
 great assembly of American statesmen, would 
 have everybody at her feet, while Eleanor would 
 probably be entirely neglected. But, he said to 
 himself, that Eleanor would be to him, in such an
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 177 
 
 assembly, the most radiant star of all, only to 
 him perhaps, but all to him. And then he re- 
 minded himself of the absurdity of thinking of 
 Eleanor Redwood at all ; he would probably never 
 see her again. He thought of his own compara- 
 tive poverty, and wondered when he should be 
 able to surround his mother with all the luxuries 
 which formed part of the lives of Miles and Nellie. 
 
 He leaned out of the window, at a dizzy height 
 above the crowd, and caught the exhilaration of 
 the new atmosphere. The bustle and lights and 
 noises affected him as champagne affects some 
 men. Oh! if he only had money, if by some 
 chance he could be placed through its possession, 
 through its power, as much above the world as he 
 was now in reality. For an instant a temptation 
 to envy his relatives crossed his mind; and then 
 he laughed a little when he thought of the help- 
 lessness of his mother among all that red plush 
 and velvet ; and he wondered how she would like 
 her ice cream in a paper frill. Eleanor she 
 would come into his mind would not seem in 
 place among all this frippery ; he could only imag- 
 ine her under the maple buds, with fresh breezes 
 around her, and the birds of spring fluttering 
 about. 
 
 The night went on, and Patrick mused: he 
 could not sleep ; for, although the noise of the 
 crowd grew vaguer, the crash of the railroad
 
 178 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 trains almost stunned him at intervals. He 
 turned down the gas about midnight, and shortly 
 afterward he heard steps on the stairs. The par- 
 lor door opened : there was a sound of impatient 
 words and of a man stumbling. After that he 
 heard Nellie's voice in expostulation, then an im- 
 precation from Miles. A flash through the cracks 
 of his door told him that the gas in the parlor had 
 been turned up. There followed another series of 
 stumbles. Nellie's voice was raised shrilly and 
 then softened; there came the sound of a blow, 
 and then another. 
 
 Patrick started to his feet and tried to pull open 
 the door, it was locked. He heard Nellie whis- 
 per, " Don't, Miles." He did not unlock the 
 door, for the thought rushed upon him that she 
 might be able to endure her husband's blows, but 
 not the knowledge that a stranger knew she had 
 suffered from them. He could hear Miles swear, 
 and a suppressed sob from his cousin. He put his 
 hand on the door and stood, heartsick and disen- 
 chanted. If this went on, he must throw all 
 scruples to the wind and interfere. No sound 
 came after this ; he opened the door softly. Miles 
 lay in a drunken stupor, his clenched fist extended 
 toward his wife ; while she, in her gay dress, knelt 
 with her head on the piano-stool, her form shaken 
 with suppressed sobs. Patrick softly closed the 
 door, and knelt down to say his prayers. That 
 night he did not sleep.
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 179 
 XIV. 
 
 "Let me make the songs of the people. . . ." 
 
 DESMOND seemed to have awakened from a 
 nightmare when the full light of the sun shone 
 into his room. His heart sank as he thought 
 of meeting his relative and assuming the duties 
 of the day. What a horrible thing life in a great 
 city was, so heartless, so turbulent, so full of 
 all evil. After all, "to stay at home" was best. 
 And, still, perhaps his coming to New York 
 would be the beginning of the success he coveted 
 with all his heart; and perhaps, too, he might be 
 the means of standing between his cousin and 
 the brutality of her husband. "Her husband!" 
 He shuddered as he thought of it. If marriage 
 were what his mother had said it was requir- 
 ing virtue, and respect, and harmony, and these 
 still to mean sacrifice, what a purgatory it 
 must be to this unfortunate woman. 
 
 He said to himself that it would be very hard 
 for him to assume an air of unconcern after 
 what he had witnessed; and he practised several 
 speeches, in his imagination, to show that he was 
 entirely at ease. 
 
 A knock at his door was followed by a voice 
 announcing that breakfast was ready. In ten 
 minutes Patrick entered the parlor, and was
 
 180 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 taken through two small bedrooms into the din- 
 ing-room. Nellie and little Hiley were there. 
 Miley looked at the guest with a curved lip and 
 battle in his eyes; but probably the remembrance 
 of the candy of the night before tended to soften 
 him. He did not add to the terrors of Patrick's 
 position by making any hostile demonstration. 
 The guest took the seat pointed out to him. 
 With an effort he raised his eyes to Nellie's face. 
 He was shocked to find that she seemed entirely 
 unconcerned; her "bang" was as much frizzled 
 as ever, she wore an artificial smile, and her 
 morning-gown was brilliant in color. She cut 
 open a large grape fruit and gave him half of it. 
 
 "You will find this a good appetizer, though I 
 guess you people from the country generally have 
 good appetites. Mr. Galligan is not up yet; he 
 was out last night so late that I hated to disturb 
 him this morning; he often sleeps until twelve 
 o'clock. There is nothing like responsibility to 
 make a man sleep, and my poor husband is so 
 worried by politics. I often wonder how he 
 lives." 
 
 Desmond asked himself if he could be dream- 
 ing. Was it possible that any woman could so 
 conceal her feelings? Was she callous? Or was 
 it an overmastering desire to save her husband 
 from reproach that made her talk in this way? 
 He could not understand it. She could not avoid
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 181 
 
 thinking that he might have heard the disturb- 
 ance of the night before. Later, when he under- 
 stood better the conditions under which she had 
 spent her earlier days-, he was able to gauge her 
 feelings very accurately. 
 
 Desmond had neither the tact nor the expe- 
 rience necessary to the carrying on of a conversa- 
 tion with anybody who seemed to him to be 
 playing a part. In fact, the state of mind of the 
 woman who could play a part was a great puzzle 
 to him. In truth, if the success he longed for 
 should depend on dissimulation, he could never 
 gain it. He was incapable of appearing even for 
 a moment what he was not; and when Nellie 
 broke into praise of Miles and his admirable 
 qualities both as a statesman and a private citizen, 
 Patrick was obstinately silent. But Nellie did 
 not mind this much; it convinced her that he 
 probably suspected that Miles was not in a fit 
 condition to appear at breakfast; so she changed 
 the subject, wisely considering that in a short 
 time after he had attained greater knowledge 
 of political and social life at the Grand Windsor 
 there would be no necessity for subterfuges on 
 her part. But at present, as she admitted to 
 herself, Patrick was "green" and needed to be 
 treated as a tender plant in the early stage of its 
 existence. As for him, his heart was bursting 
 with pity for her. Even little Miley, coated with
 
 182 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 bread and milk, had a halo of pathos about him, 
 in Patrick's eyes. 
 
 If Nellie could have guessed what was in her 
 cousin's mind, she would have been both aston- 
 ished and offended. If Miles the elder had dared 
 to strike Miles the younger Nellie would have 
 behaved like a tigress; and, therefore, she would 
 have keenly resented any pity bestow r ed on the 
 child; she could take care of him. She would 
 have as keenly resented any sympathy for herself; 
 she had lived too long in the atmosphere of The 
 Anchor not to have come to believe that a blow 
 or two from a husband was one of the risks of 
 matrimony. To her it did not mean degrada- 
 tion; it meant unpleasantness and pain for the 
 moment. According to Nellie's code the code 
 of The Anchor, a wife might hit back at her 
 husband if he struck her when he w r as sober; but 
 to strike a drunken man was a cruelty unheard 
 of. And to Nellie, who, from observation, had 
 known that the matrimonial state was full of 
 risks, the horror, the contempt, the despondency, 
 which the scene of the night before had aroused 
 in Desmond, would have been incomprehensible. 
 During the night he had half-resolved to flee from 
 the place; but Miles' promise had occurred to 
 him, and he said to himself that perhaps he had 
 been specially called to New York to act as his 
 cousin's champion. Nellie's artificial smile, and
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 183 
 
 her brisk, self-satisfied manner put the champion 
 suggestion to flight at once. Desmond looked at 
 little Miley, and thought of the child's fate, with 
 his father's example before him. He had no 
 appetite. Nellie urged him to eat, but he could 
 not. 
 
 "My husband," she said, confidentially, "sel- 
 dom has time to write a letter, and I guess you'll 
 find a great bundle; but you need not answer 
 them all. To-night you will go down town with 
 me, to Lize Smith's party. I have to go for Miles' 
 sake, and you'll have to be polite to everybody; 
 but it's not the sphere in which I generally move. 
 I am much more at home at my sister-in-law's 
 Mrs. Arthur Fitzgerald's, where you really meet 
 the best people. In politics, a woman has to do a 
 great deal she doesn't want to do; and if I don't 
 go to Lize Smith's, folks will say that I am 'stuck 
 up,' and that will lose Miles some votes, you 
 know." 
 
 Desmond did not know, and he did not care. 
 How could this woman prattle on in this way, 
 after the tragedy of the night before? 
 
 "Of course, it's part of your duty to go with 
 me, or else I shouldn't ask you. I must say that 
 Lize is a good sort of girl a little bad tempered, 
 but good-hearted. We were formerly very inti- 
 mate we met very often in one of the largest 
 drygoods shops in this city, and sometimes she
 
 184 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 presumes a little on her former acquaintance with 
 me. I have gone up in the world, Patrick Des- 
 mond, and I ain't ashamed of it." 
 
 She dropped her artificial smile as she uttered 
 these words, and spoke in a tone of offence. 
 Desmond looked at her in surprise. 
 
 "I say I ain't ashamed of it; and when you 
 have the same advantages and social standing as 
 we have, I hope you won't be ashamed of it." 
 
 Desmond promised that he would not be 
 ashamed of it, not, however, knowing very well 
 what "it" referred to. 
 
 "You'll see something of city life," said Nellie, 
 patronizingly; "and that will be an advantage, 
 even if it's not the long-tong or the four hundred. 
 There are many nice people who are not of the 
 four hundred," continued Nellie, aggressively; 
 "although you country people get the idea that 
 the four hundred are the best people in New 
 York. It's nonsense! There's a gent and lady 
 on the first floor that wear diamonds larger than 
 anybody in the four hundred ever wore." 
 
 "If you don't mind," said Desmond, "I'll begin 
 work." 
 
 But Nellie was in the mood for talking. It was 
 not often that she had the pleasure of patronizing 
 a rustic from the provinces. 
 
 "You'll see how people live in the tenement 
 houses. My brother-in-law, John Longworthy,
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 185 
 
 has written a book called 'Poverty and Sin,' or 
 some such trash; and it has turned everybody 
 against him." 
 
 "Do you know him ?" asked Patrick, interested. 
 
 "Of course I do. He married Miley's sister; 
 and a more stuck-up and putting-on-airs kind of 
 people I don't want to see than he and his wife 
 are. That Esther Miley's sister can say things 
 that would make your blood run cold; and she's 
 the kind that makes you so mad that you can't 
 think of anything nasty to say until it is too late. 
 Now Mary that's Arthur Fitzgerald's wife is 
 different. She's a soft kind of a fool, with no 
 style about her," Nellie assumed her artificial 
 smile to show the difference. "But she's fond of 
 Miles, who was always the best of brothers to her, 
 though sometimes her husband makes her for- 
 get that, and then she's ungrateful. But we must 
 expect it in this world," she added with a sigh. 
 
 Again Desmond did not attempt to search for 
 the antecedent of the "it;" he was interested in 
 John Longworthy's book, with which the press of 
 the whole country had been busy. 
 
 "And you really know John Longworthy?" 
 said Patrick, with the innocent enthusiasm alas, 
 so short-lived! of the hero- worshipper. "What 
 a terrible book he has written about tenement- 
 house life in New York. Is it true?" 
 
 "True!" exclaimed Nellie, becoming suddenly
 
 186 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 very indignant and natural. "It's true enough 
 that there is a mixed crowd in tenement houses. 
 And I am not going to deny that there is a good 
 deal of beer-drinking going on, and that the girls 
 do care a great deal for picnics and speelin' and 
 good clothes; but who doesn't? Why, I was born 
 in a tenement house," she said, clinching the 
 argument, "and I am none the worse for it. I am 
 a lady in every sense, I hope. And there is as 
 much fun and enjoyment in tenement houses as 
 you'd find anywhere. And why shouldn't girls 
 like to dance? I could die speelin' myself." 
 
 After a pause the young man humbly asked 
 what "speelin' " was. 
 
 "Oh!" Nellie answered, pitying, "it's a kind 
 of waltz; but John Longworthy talks about it in 
 his book as if it were murder. When I read about 
 the book in The Sun, I says to Miles, 'The man's 
 an upstart.' And I says, 'If it gets out that he's 
 your brother-in-law, you'll lose votes among the 
 people you depend on.' And so we never speak 
 of him. It's hard to be ashamed of your own 
 brother-in-law. He lived in the Bowery under an 
 assumed name, and got the material for his book 
 under false pretenses. It's a painful subject, 
 we never speak of it." 
 
 Patrick, anxious to avoid further reference to 
 so painful a subject, proposed to go to work, and 
 Nellie showed him a desk in the corner of the
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 187 
 
 parlor. With some assistance from her, he an- 
 swered several letters. It was not a hard task, 
 for Nellie enjoyed dictating to him; and he could 
 not help being impressed by her common-sense, 
 and even a certain tact, which was not, however, 
 embarrassed by a great reverence for the truth. 
 
 The morning wore on. Patrick wrote quickly, 
 annoyed by the noise of the street, and yet curious 
 about it. He was sometimes amused, sometimes 
 depressed by Nellie's directions; and he stopped 
 once and remonstrated, when she made Miles 
 promise, by letter, to grant the same favor to two 
 different persons. 
 
 "Go on," she said, "you're paid to write let- 
 ters, not to think. It has to be done; it's politics." 
 
 At noon Miles appeared with a swollen face 
 and sullen eyes. He gradually became good- 
 humored, and signified his approval of Patrick's 
 handwriting. 
 
 "I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll put you behind 
 a pair of the best-up bays on the road Jeff 
 Rowley at the livery-stable rents them to me, 
 and drive you out the Mount St. Vincent's road." 
 
 Patrick thanked him, and said he had not 
 much interest in fast driving; but that he would 
 take a stroll on Broadway in the afternoon, if 
 Miles would tell him how to get there. However, 
 it turned out that there were so many letters to 
 answer that a stroll was out of the question.
 
 188 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 Late in the afternoon Miles disappeared. At 
 dinner Nellie wore a splendid heliotrope-colored 
 dress, with a very high collar and a long train 
 
 "I usually wear a low neck when I go into 
 society, but the people at Lize Smith's wouldn't 
 understand it," she said. And Patrick was just 
 as much puzzled by the "low neck" as he had 
 been by many other allusions during the day, so 
 he let it pass. It tired him to ask questions and 
 to receive unintelligible answers in Bowery slang. 
 
 Later, when little Miley had been tucked 
 away, Patrick was called to see how pretty he 
 looked when asleep, it was time to go to the 
 Smith assembly. Nellie was very thoughtful on her 
 way down town. She carried a roll of music and 
 a large purple fan. She spoke little; occasionally 
 she hummed a tune, and when she observed that 
 Desmond noticed it she said: "Excuse me, I 
 may be asked to sing tonight, and I'm afraid I'll 
 forget the key." 
 
 In reality, she was considering how best to 
 crush Lize Smith with magnificent condescension. 
 She knew that she would be the observed of all 
 observers; she expected that veiled sarcasms 
 would be directed at her. She felt that Lize 
 Smith could not but compare the two positions in 
 life; and that the elegance of her heliotrope 
 gown, and the cultivated accents in which Pro- 
 fessor Portescue had taught her to warble, would
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 189 
 
 f 
 
 fill Lize with uncontrollable envy. Still, she 
 sighed as she thought of the old life. Miles was 
 in the Assembly, and all that; and yet but 
 after all, she said to herself, he was better than 
 Jim Smith, whom she might have married if she 
 had wanted to. She had some doubts about the 
 propriety of taking Desmond 'with her; she re- 
 flected, however, that he must meet her mother 
 sooner or later in the tenement house called The 
 Anchor; and no doubt the Smiths' way of living 
 was as fine as anything he had known at home. 
 
 When they descended from the elevated rail- 
 way car, Nellie seized her train with a grace that 
 extorted an admiring whistle from the newsboy 
 at the bottom of the steps, and asked Patrick to 
 hold the fan and the roll of music. Thus bur- 
 dened, he followed her through various streets, 
 dark, dirty and bordered with empty carts. The 
 sidewalks were crowded with children of all ages, 
 jumping up on the carts, rushing hither and 
 thither, screaming, yelling, crying, laughing. 
 
 The houses were so high and the space seemed 
 so narrow between them, that Desmond's lungs 
 refused to do their work. His chest was op- 
 pressed, and he fancied for a moment that he 
 should stifle. He looked up at the fire escapes, 
 loaded with fluttering carpets and odds and ends 
 of all kind, above which showed an occasional 
 human head. How soft, how sweet, how full of
 
 190 THE SUCGESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 fresh odors, was the twilight on the river bank at 
 Redwood at this hour. How sordid, how wretched, 
 how appalling, it was here. 
 
 The figures on the doorsteps carelessly clad 
 women nursing their babies, old women with 
 pipes in their mouths, the Polish- Jewish widow 
 with her dingy wig, the Chinese, gliding along 
 on his cork soles, the children going in and out 
 with their tin cans of beer, the oaths, the out- 
 cries, the swarming life everywhere, opened a new 
 vista to Patrick Desmond. It was only a glimpse, 
 but it horrified him more than all his later knowl- 
 edge of this life had power to horrify him. They 
 went through many streets. Nellie's fine wrap 
 and gown attracted no attention; for in these 
 districts finery was not unusual, but it was gen- 
 erally reserved for Sundays. 
 
 "Do these poor children live here always?" 
 asked Desmond, as they passed through a group 
 of little ones of all sizes and nationalities, some 
 so pretty that the dust and stain of a long day 
 had not spoiled them. 
 
 "Why not?" asked Nellie, sharply. "Better 
 people than you live here." 
 
 "But the children," said Patrick, "but the 
 children! O God!" 
 
 Nellie turned abruptly. "I want you to know, 
 Mr. Desmond, that I'm a lady, I don't permit 
 swearing in my presence."
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND- 191 
 
 Patrick did not hear; she seemed very trivial 
 in the presence of this phase of life. He shud- 
 dered, and an almost intolerable feeling of home- 
 sickness came upon him. 
 
 After a time, varied by several slight collisions, 
 in which Nellie raised her voice in tones that 
 commanded respect, they reached the front of the 
 tenement house occupied by the Smiths. The 
 third story of this house was brilliantly illumi- 
 nated ; the doorstep and the sidewalk were fringed 
 by groups of children. 
 
 "Oh! my," they cried in chorus, as Nellie 
 approached; and one shrill voice called out, 
 "Ain't she a dandy?" 
 
 An old woman, with a pipe in her mouth, lean- 
 ing against the inevitable cart, exclaimed : " 'Tis 
 Nellie Mulligan, as I live!" 
 
 Upon this several urchins, who were perched 
 on the cart behind the old lady, struck up the 
 Mulligan Guards, an ancient but still popular 
 song in the district. 
 
 Desmond preceded Nellie up the dark stair- 
 case. He was told to knock at a door which 
 seemed to hide much hilarity from the outer 
 world; for the tuning of fiddles and snatches of 
 laughter came from between the cracks. 
 
 Lize Smith, nee Brown, opened the door. Time 
 had further indented her brow and made her fret- 
 ful expression more distinct. Nevertheless, she
 
 192 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 wore a Psyche knot, large puffed sleeves, and 
 half a dozen jingling bangles at her wrists. She 
 clasped Nellie to her heart in rapture. 
 
 "Only a few friends," she said, taking in Nellie's 
 costume with an eagle eye; "only a few friends 
 to celebrate our good luck." And she kissed Nel- 
 lie rapturously. "Jim's uncle died the other day, 
 and left him the best grocery store at far Rock- 
 aw T ay." 
 
 "How lucky!" exclaimed Nellie. "I was afraid 
 he'd never get anything to do. A few friends?'' 
 she said, turning gracefully. "A great many 
 friends I should say. Now," she whispered, giv- 
 ing way to her fatal propensity to patronage, 
 "don't introduce me to everybody; we must draw 
 the line '' 
 
 "You know everybody already," snapped Lize. 
 "There's Birdie Branagan don't you remember 
 him? He took my white satin shoes to you the 
 night you went to the Lady Rosebuds with Miley. 
 Birdie, here's Nellie Mulligan that was." 
 
 There was a titter from the row of chairs 
 around the walls. Birdie, who was a youth of six 
 feet at least, with square shoulders, a cropped 
 head, a mouth as hard as flint, and like a straight 
 line drawn above an equally hard, square chin, 
 raised himself, accordion in hand, and said: 
 
 "Halloo, Nell! When's Miley gom' to give de 
 May picnic?"
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 193 
 
 
 Birdie, as he stood up, was a turbulent-looking 
 creature. His pilot-jacket was drawn in wrinkles 
 about his waist; he wore a blue shirt, and his 
 legs were encased in very light trousers, with a 
 large swelling on each knee. Nellie turned to 
 the other guest, and Birdie sat down. 
 
 "See!" he said, "I'm de champeen accordeen 
 player on Cherry Hill, and de crow won't notice 
 me. See! 
 
 "Birdie recites beautiful now," Lize whispered. 
 "He -takes lesons from Professor Macgeoghegan ; 
 he thinks Professor Fortescue too common." 
 
 Nellie tosed her head and presented Desmond, 
 who took, as soon as he could, a chair in the 
 remotest corner. The room was filled with 
 young men and women; the young men wearing 
 very high collars or no collars at all, all with 
 cropped heads and a general air of swagger. 
 The young women were dressed in gowns made 
 in imitation of the reigning fashion, except 
 Katie Grogan, who, owing to financial difficulties, 
 was attired in a very light summer gown and an 
 old fur cape. The truth was, that her husband, 
 who was the life of the company, full of the most 
 delicious jokes, had spent her earnings for several 
 weeks at the races. Katie, who had a bright face, 
 but a hectic color, was determined to enjoy her- 
 self, and had secured a night off from the arduous 
 task of playing in a dime museum.
 
 194 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 Desmond, from his corner, viewed the assembly 
 with a heavy heart. He had not much sense of 
 humor, and he could see only the squalid side of 
 these people's lives. He knew little about them 
 as yet ; but the commonness of their atmosphere 
 depressed him. What shrill laughter, what 
 curious slang, what coarseness of manner. And 
 these he judged from their names had sprung 
 from the same race as his father and mother. The 
 best quality he saw in any of these men seemed 
 to be a certain animal good nature. But in all 
 Redwood there was no brute like the champion 
 player of the accordion ; he seemed to be as near 
 to a bulldog as any human creature could be. 
 What had brought these people to this depth, and 
 how was it to be remedied ? He himself was no 
 richer, not - much better educated perhaps than 
 these fellows ; but he shuddered at the thought of 
 being of them. 
 
 Nellie passed through the two rooms, took off 
 her bonnet, and made greetings with graceful 
 condescension. Amid applause, Jim Smith rolled 
 a keg of beer through the two rooms into the 
 kitchen ; the three Italians in the back-room 
 tuned their musical instruments. Lize Smith 
 announced, with a giggle, that Mrs. Miles Galligan 
 would sing. Mrs. Miles refused ; Lize insisted ; 
 Birdie Branagan, in his playful way, tried to lift 
 her from her chair, while Patrick grew hot with 
 indignation.
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 195 
 
 Nellie yielded at last. She borrowed a lemon 
 drop and coughed several times. Then she took 
 her position in the middle of the room, unrolled 
 the sheet of music with much crackling, and said 
 sweetly to the accordion champion : " Give me a 
 minor key." The champion dashed into " Annie 
 Rooney." There was a general protest : it was 
 low. " Maggie Murphy's Home " or " Comrades " 
 might do, but nothing common. Again Nellie 
 demanded a minor key, with a look of haughty 
 reproach ; then she kicked her train with her 
 left foot, adjusted a hairpin, and, as the accordion 
 uttered a squeak, began : 
 
 " Only a violet, dawling." 
 
 It was a triumph ; she ended with her hand on 
 her heart, and these words : 
 
 " Only a violet, dawling, 
 
 On-lee thy pickchewer true ; 
 Only a photograph, swee-e-e-e-test, 
 Is ahl I have 9! you-oo-oo ! " 
 
 Called out a second time, she borrowed a 
 photograph from Lize's album, and pressed it to 
 her heart with pathos. One could have heard a 
 pin drop as her voice rose high on the " oo " if 
 one could have heard anything ; and Jim Smith 
 said sternly that there ought not to be a dry eye 
 in the room.
 
 196 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 XV. 
 
 What teaching have I had? What did my mother tell me? 
 That one must be rich to he happy. What did the world teach 
 me ? That one must be rich to be respected. Les Lionnes 
 Pauvres. 
 
 THE Fly-Away Mines were known to have paid 
 good dividends on the money invested, and Judge 
 Redwood was a large stockholder in them. Elea- 
 nor had often sighed over the Judge's connection 
 with them. Her mother's words, rankling in her 
 soul, had made her see all her father's business 
 doings through a lurid atmosphere. It was not 
 easy for a girl like Eleanor Redwood to realize 
 what poverty meant, and every day of her life she 
 wished that she and her father were absolutely 
 poor, so that the shadow of the mystery at which 
 her mother had hinted might lift itself. To 
 Eleanor's mind, a straight line was not only the 
 shortest distance from one point to another, but 
 the easiest to find and to keep. 
 
 Judge Redwood had recently mortgaged all his 
 property in Redwood to augment his interest in 
 the mines. These mines were small, easily worked 
 and near Eaglescliff. They made a dark stain in 
 a very pretty country. They were surrounded by 
 a chain of small lakes. There were experts who 
 declared that the Fly-Away Mines were in con-
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 197 
 
 utant danger of being flooded ; but Judge Redwood 
 laughed, and said he was willing to take the risk. 
 He had as much confidence in those mines as any 
 British magnate has in the Bank of England. 
 What had the chain of lakes to do with the mines ? 
 Lakes were one thing and a coal deposit another. 
 It was only in worn-out mines that an accidental 
 mistake ever brought a flood of water in upon the 
 precious black diamonds ; and these Fly-Away 
 Mines had as yet been scarcely worked at all. 
 Harry Bayard, who had the reputation of being 
 something of an expert, said disparaging things 
 about the mines ; but, then, Bayard was a notori- 
 ous snarler. 
 
 Judge Redwood had not received his summons 
 to Eaglescliff as a really unpleasant thing. He 
 had a case in court there, or he would probably 
 have refused to take much notice of the message : 
 " Trouble in the mines." 
 
 " Trouble ! " he said to himself. " Of course 
 there will always be trouble in any great under- 
 taking." And so, as he went to Eaglescliff, his 
 real annoyance centred around the discovery that 
 Mrs. Bayard had seen that unfortunate letter of 
 his dead wife. " Ah ! well," he said, " I am glad 
 that Eleanor will never see it. She would not 
 understand ; it would upset her. It would be a 
 terrible thing for me to tell her that her mother 
 was insane at any time."
 
 198 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 A little later he met an acquaintance, and he did 
 not find out that in his haste he had forgotten the 
 unhappy slip of paper ; if he had suspected that it 
 was already in his daughter's possession, he would 
 have written to her before transacting any business 
 whatever. 
 
 The Judge found Harry Bayard on the ground. 
 He had been sent for by some of the other stock- 
 holders. 
 
 " A little trouble, Bayard ? " he said. 
 
 " A great deal, Judge," Bayard had answered. 
 " The rats are leaving the mines, and the miners 
 are leaving with them. There's going to be a 
 cave in somewhere." 
 
 The Judge laughed. " What superstitious 
 creatures these miners are ! What have rats to do 
 with a ' cave in ' ? " 
 
 " The miners think they have a great deal. No 
 miner will stay where a rat will not stay," said 
 Bayard. " I have been sent for to look into the 
 thing. I am afraid there is going to be trouble." 
 
 The Judge shook his head, still smiling. "If 
 you found your opinion on the rats, Mr. Bayard," 
 he observed, " I hardly think I shall annoy my- 
 self. And, besides, I fancy we had better send to 
 New York for an expert, so that these silly rumors 
 may be dissipated at once." 
 
 Bayard's face assumed a hue which made its 
 sallowness look green. " The old man is a fool ! "
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 199 
 
 he said to himself ; and then aloud : " But you 
 can see for yourself that the miners will not 
 work." 
 
 This was true : the miners were all on the sur- 
 face of the earth, and neither threats nor persua- 
 sions would induce them to descend again. Every 
 rat in the mines seemed 1to have gone, too ; and 
 the miners, who had no other reason for their 
 panic than the disappearance of the rodents, stub- 
 bornly resisted the threats and entreaties of the 
 Judge. 
 
 "I hate the sight of a rat when I am in day- 
 light, Judge," said an old miner ; " but a rat down 
 below is the miner's best friend. And, if you 
 wait, you'll see that there is no mistake about it." 
 
 The Judge was in despair; everybody seemed 
 possessed of a mania, and he lost his temper when 
 Bayard's report confirmed the general opinion. 
 Late in the night an ominous rumbling was heard ; 
 and it became evident that the rats were right, 
 and that the miners had not pinned their faith to 
 them in vain. The partition of rock between the 
 mines and the largest lake had given way. The 
 flood rushed, and Judge Redwood was obliged to 
 face the truth : he was ruined. 
 
 Sitting alone in his hotel, after an interview 
 with Bayard, he acknowledged to himself that he 
 was not only ruined, but irretrievably ruined. At 
 his time of life there was no going upward ; a man
 
 200 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 might make a new start at forty, but at sixty it 
 was impossible. And the worst of it was the fear 
 that Eleanor would accept the fact bravely only 
 because she could not realize what it meant. It 
 is an easy thing for a king, with crown and sceptre, 
 to wish that he were of the crowd beneath him, 
 unfettered by etiquette and ceremonies ; but a hard 
 thing when the crown and sceptre are taken, and 
 he finds himself struggling for life among the 
 masses whose freedom he pensively envied. The 
 princess is willing enough to become a pauper, 
 because, in her case, she does not see why the 
 paupers cannot eat cakes if they have no bread. 
 The Judge, as he sat in his room in the Eaglescliff 
 hotel, could not help feeling that this would be 
 Eleanor's state of mind. He had no fear that she 
 would complain : he felt that she would be de- 
 lighted at the prospect of sharing poverty with 
 him. She would throw her arms around his neck 
 and say, in the words of Mignon's song, of which 
 she was so fond : 
 
 " There, there, with thee, 
 O father, would I dwell ! " 
 
 His heart sank when he thought of what might 
 come after. He had shielded her from every 
 wind ; she had been as happy as he could make 
 her; she had never been extravagant in her de- 
 mands : had she been, he, like most American
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 201 
 
 fathers with an only daughter, would probably 
 have granted them. And now she would have to 
 meet the cold, stern world ; he could protect her 
 but little from it, and a time might soon come 
 when he could not protect her at all. He shud- 
 dered at the thought. What could be more 
 terrible than the position of a girl, absolutely 
 dependent on the work of her own hands, left 
 alone in the world ? His heart became sick at the 
 prospect. At sixty he could not strive for her as 
 he could once have striven. Younger men had 
 taken his place. He had imagined that his road 
 to the grave would be a smooth one; he had 
 trusted in himself, and he found that he was only 
 a poor, mistaken fool, after all. What had he to 
 live for now ? In Redwood he would soon be the 
 " poor old Judge." He knew his affairs well ; he 
 was aware that, to carry on this experiment with 
 the mines which had not appeared to him in the 
 light of an experiment until it failed, he had 
 put it in the power of his creditors to seize on the 
 very roof that sheltered Eleanor. 
 
 His memory, his sense of the present, seemed 
 to fail him at this thought. He dozed or swooned, 
 he could not tell which, and then came to his 
 senses with a dull pain in his head. The streets 
 of the little town were full of people, though it 
 was late at night. The Judge could hear their 
 tramp on the sidewalk and the sound of talking.
 
 202 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 The disaster to the mines had stirred all the sur- 
 rounding country. The Judge wondered whether 
 there were anybody in that crowd who was sixty 
 years old and a failure. And what would Eleanor 
 say ? Ah ! he knew very well how she would 
 hold up her head and cry out, "We have our 
 name, father." He smiled involuntarily, ah ! 
 the dear little girl. And then again came the 
 crushing sense of hopelessness. What a wretched 
 future stretched before this beloved Eleanor of his. 
 
 He was ruined ; the time would perhaps come 
 when he would be a burden on her. He knew 
 how lightly and cheerfully and happily parents 
 carry the burden of their children. But he had 
 seen the position reversed; and he had noticed 
 that even those who had received the fruit of the 
 severest sacrifices from their fathers and mothers, 
 bore with mere resignation the care of those 
 parents when the time for making sacrifices was 
 past. The time might come when Eleanor would 
 no, no ! he cast the thought away. Eleanor 
 was not like other people. 
 
 He had often said that to live was happiness 
 enough, and that the thought of death as a return 
 to beneficent Mother Nature was consolation ; he 
 had many times said that the philosophy of the 
 " Thanatopsis " of Bryant was better to him than 
 the doctrine of any Christian church. To lie 
 down with high thoughts, and to become in time
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 203 
 
 part of the beautiful earth ; to glow in the red of 
 the rose and in the purple of the violet for those 
 that were loved on earth ; to be part of the invis- 
 ible choir that sings of health and hope in the 
 woods, this, the Judge had said, was enough 
 for him. He expected no more, he wanted no 
 more. 
 
 The test had come. He had suddenly become 
 old and broken ; the altruistic prospect of forming 
 part of the rose or the violet did not satisfy him 
 now : he wanted rest and hope and life. His 
 heart cried out against the dictum he had made 
 for himself : " Thou shall not live after death ! " 
 He wanted to live after death, since life on earth 
 was a failure. Surely he could not have been 
 placed on earth or been evolved from protoplasm 
 merely to return at last to protoplasm or some- 
 thing similar. He was made for better things 
 than that. To fail on earth and then to perish, 
 no, it could not be ! there must be a God some- 
 where, this poor creature said, because he needed 
 a God. He felt that he must go mad if some hope 
 did not arise for him. He threw himself on his 
 knees in front of his chair. Memories of words 
 his wife had said in the days of their courtship, 
 coupled with bits out of the books she had made 
 him read, floated into his mind. If he had thought 
 more, if he had been less wrapt up in the world of 
 Redwood ! If she had been firmer in her faith.
 
 204 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 " I believe," he groaned, "I believe ! O God, 
 give me hope, give me consolation. " 
 
 It suddenly became plain to him that he who 
 had talked so much of the beauty of high thought 
 and high living and of ideal aims, had been one of 
 the grossest of materialists. During the rest of 
 his stay at Eaglescliff he suffered much, and on 
 his way to the station he fell before a stroke of the 
 avant-courier of death. 
 
 On the day after this disaster, Laura Bayard 
 and her husband were sitting on the balcony of 
 the Howard House, a balcony which jutted out 
 from the windows of their room. Laura was 
 sulky ; her husband was moody and dissatisfied. 
 
 "Don't blow your cigar smoke into my face," 
 she said. 
 
 " I can't help the wind," he replied, "I can't 
 help the wind any more than I can pay your 
 bills." 
 
 "You ought not to have married me, then," 
 she said, bitterly. " You know that I must hold 
 my own in society here ; if I can't, what is there 
 to live for ? If I had the money, I'd leave you 
 this very day. I'm tired of this wretched, pinched 
 kind of life. If I can't dress like other people, I 
 don't want to live, that's all." 
 
 " There's no question of duty, I suppose ? " he 
 said, sarcastically. 
 
 " I haven't anything to do with duty. I want
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 205 
 
 to live while I am youug. Duty ! I'd like to know 
 where your idea of duty comes in ? A woman has 
 just as much right to freedom and enjoyment as 
 a man ; and if I can't be happy here, I'll go where 
 I can. There's nothing in this world worth con- 
 sidering but money ; it's the beginning and the 
 end. You can't be happy without luxuries ; I'm 
 sure you've often said so yourself." 
 
 Bayard sighed and frowned. He believed this 
 himself. He would have sold his soul for an 
 income which would have enabled him to keep 
 a pair of high-stepping bays like Mrs. Howard 
 Sykes' ; but he knew no way of doing so which 
 would not mean a departure from respectability, 
 and perhaps a visitation in the penitentiary. 
 Nevertheless, Bayard did not like to hear his 
 wife shamelessly utter words he himself had 
 often spoken. 
 
 "If Laura were different," he thought, "/ 
 might be different. If we had a home perhaps " 
 
 " What are you thinking of ? " asked Laura, 
 sharply. " There is no hypocrisy about me. 
 Everybody really believes just what I say out 
 frankly. Who thinks of anything but money here ? 
 I was never taught to respect anything else. If 
 we were rich, I am sure even you and I, Harry, 
 could get on. What are you thinking of ? " 
 
 " Oh ! nothing, " he said, sullenly, throwing his 
 cigar away. " The world's a snare and a delusion.
 
 206 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 How does Eleanor Redwood take her downfall ? " 
 
 " Is it really as bad as people say ? Are the 
 mines absolutely ruined ? Eleanor will learn now 
 to sympathize with people who go wrong for want 
 of money. She'll have to take a lower step her- 
 self, if things are as bad as people say." 
 
 " They are not so bad," Bayard answered; " but 
 the Judge does not know it. The stock has gone 
 down to nothing ; all work in the mines has been 
 stopped. If I had money enough if I had any 
 money, or could raise any, I'd buy up the Fly- 
 Away shares, and wait. It would pay ; the dam- 
 age done by the flood is only slight and temporary. 
 But I am afraid to tell anybody ; because if I 
 can't take advantage of it nobody else shall." 
 
 Mrs. Bayard was silent. "Is it hopeless to 
 think of raising money ? " 
 
 " Hopeless ! " he repeated, watching her. She 
 did not speak for some time. He whistled with 
 apparent unconcern. 
 
 " The Judge will die," she said, " probably 
 without regaining his senses. Eleanor believes 
 that her property really belongs to a young man 
 called Patrick Desmond. You know him ? " 
 
 Bayard nodded. 
 
 " As far as I can make out, Desmond is a fool : 
 religious and inexperienced, honest, thinks fair- 
 dealing can be carried on in business. He is as 
 great a fool as Eleanor. She can be brought to
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 207 
 
 over her interest to him ; and you, Harry, 
 manipulate him become his partner. The 
 stock goes up, through your exertions ; a half 
 interest for you, at least." 
 
 " The fellow is in New York," said Bayard. 
 " Why not manage Eleanor, if her father dies ? " 
 
 " Eleanor has too many acquaintances, who 
 would suspect something wrong the moment you, 
 an expert in these mining affairs 
 
 " I understand," he said. " You've a good head, 
 Laura." 
 
 " And no conscience you would say, too. Well, 
 I am what the world has made me." 
 
 He turned away uneasily. " But the fellow is 
 in New York." 
 
 Mrs. Bayard thought for a moment. " Elaine 
 is there," she said. " Why not marry him to my 
 sister? He is a good-natured fool, and she can 
 twist him about her finger. In that way we can 
 keep all the spoil in the family." 
 
 " You have too much imagination, Laura," he 
 said; still he considered her suggestion. "Elaine 
 Mrs. Desmond," he went on ; "you and I rich 
 but what becomes of your friend Eleanor? " 
 
 " I don't care," Mrs. Bayard answered, in a hard 
 voice. " Let her learn whether the goodness and 
 virtue everybody including even you admires 
 will carry her through the world." 
 
 Bayard did not answer. His wife was clever,
 
 208 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 he knew ; he knew, too, that she had no scruples, 
 but he wished that she had. 
 
 " I have too much imagination, have I ? " she 
 asked, bitterly. " But I am practical enough. Fort- 
 unately, we are not hampered by any absurd 
 Romanist prejudices. If we do not succeed in 
 making some money, I must get a divorce and 
 marry a richer man." 
 
 He rose from his seat and swore. " I wish you 
 had a few Romanist prejudices," he said ; " the 
 baby might have not been so often neglected." 
 
 She turned red and bit her lip. " If you say 
 that again " she began, with a look of anger in 
 her eyes. 
 
 " I shall not say it again, since harmony is 
 necessary in order to carry out our plan. But I 
 find you still too imaginative." 
 
 Why ? " she asked. 
 
 " In fancying that any other man would marry 
 you." 
 
 They had begun to hate each other and the 
 bonds that bound them ; theirs was a fair example 
 of a modern marriage without religion. Later 
 they elaborated their plan for the management of 
 Patrick Desmond.
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 209 
 
 XVI. 
 
 At the dawning of light it is grayest, 
 
 And the dawning of Love is in fear ; 
 By a whisper thy heart thou betrayest, 
 
 A mist and an angel is near! 
 A touch and the clash of a cymbal ! 
 A cross and Love dawns through Love's symbol ! 
 
 " Les Flours de la Bontt." 
 
 ELEANOR REDWOOD was in possession of all the 
 details of the disaster at the Fly-Away Mines. 
 Belinda served them up to her in every form for 
 a few days. But, after the first shock, they did 
 not worry her; when she had realized the fact 
 that she was poor, and that the future support of 
 herself and her father must depend on herself, a 
 desire to take her part in the struggle for life took 
 possession of her. She had always wanted to 
 have her father to herself : she had always been a 
 little jealous of his clients and of his political 
 friends. She wanted to be with him a great deal ; 
 for, after all, he was all she had in the world. 
 
 She pictured to herself a little room somewhere, 
 hi which she should sit sewing or painting, while 
 he should read his paper in peace, a modest 
 and happy interior. It would be away from Red- 
 wood somewhere, somewhere far away, so that 
 people would not talk about their poverty or 
 know that Judge Redwood and his daughter had
 
 210 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 ever been different. The young girl felt that she 
 could not stand the thought that her comings-in 
 and goings-out would be observed by curious 
 eyes. 
 
 The Judge was eagerly watched by Dr. Talbot ; 
 he still seemed to be only half-conscious. One 
 day, while Eleanor was in his room, he looked 
 about him and held out his right hand for some- 
 thing. For a moment Eleanor was perplexed; 
 then she ran downstairs and took the beads from 
 under the copy of Baxter's " Saint's Rest," where 
 Belinda had hidden them. She looked into his 
 eyes, holding up the crucifix. She saw by the 
 twitching of his fingers that this was what he 
 wanted. He tried to speak. 
 
 " Things are clearer," he murmured. " I see 
 better, Clarissa, atonement." Then, with a 
 great effort, he added, " I trust you, Eleanor." 
 
 Eleanor pondered on these words. It was a 
 great delight to her to hear him speak even so in- 
 articulately. What did he mean by atonement? 
 Did he mean that something of Patrick Desmond's 
 had been kept from him ? Mrs. Desmond's words 
 had temporarily relieved her mind ; but as yet she 
 had not been able to corroborate those words by 
 an explanation from her father. If, she said to 
 herself, there had been some mistake for it 
 could not have been more than a mistake or a 
 miscalculation, there was no remedying it ; for
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 211 
 
 the Judge was poorer than Patrick Desmond. All 
 she could do, perhaps, would be to ask the injured 
 man's forgiveness for her father ; and in time 
 Eleanor glowed with ambition at the thought 
 she would pay all the lost money back by the 
 labor of her hands. 
 
 The Judge improved much. Finally Dr. Talbot 
 recommended change of air. The patient could 
 walk about a little now, but he could not speak 
 articulately. The watchers could make out the 
 words, " Away from this place " ; or thought they 
 could. Dr. Talbot was compelled to admit that 
 the Judge might never be any better. The time 
 came for Eleanor to face the realities of life. Dr. 
 Talbot and one of her father's legal friends came 
 one day, and asked her if they might have a talk 
 with her in her father's study. The result of this 
 talk was that she found that her father had just 
 one thousand dollars in the bank (he had de- 
 posited this subject to her order), and that she 
 possessed a roll of shares in the Fly- A way Mines, 
 nominal value, two hundred thousand dollars ; real 
 value with the mines flooded, almost nothing. 
 The shares were in her name ; her father had en- 
 tered into this speculation for her sake. 
 
 It was now that Redwood showed its real kind- 
 ness of heart. Homes for a year, for an indefinite 
 time, were offered to the Judge and Eleanor. Dr. 
 Talbot was first and most fervent in his offer.
 
 212 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 And Mrs. Howard Sykes, whose tongue was as 
 bitter as her mind was narrow, drove over in her 
 Victoria, full of soft cushions added for the 
 Judge's benefit, and insisted that he and Eleanor 
 should live with her. Eleanor shuddered at the 
 thought, but she was none the less grateful. Mrs. 
 Howard Sykes commanded and stormed and 
 threatened. Mrs. Bayard, who had come in at the 
 same time, added the weight of her arguments. 
 Eleanor flushed, and paled, and wept, but re- 
 mained unmoved; while Belinda, torn by the 
 conflicting feelings of desire to know how it 
 would end, and fear lest her bread should burn, 
 listened at the door. 
 
 Mrs. Howard Sykes had always been fond of 
 Eleanor. It is a great mistake to imagine as 
 some young people do until they find out to the 
 contrary that goodness does not "pay," even in 
 the worldly sense. Eleanor, who had her little 
 affectations and pretensions, was, after all, very 
 simple and sincere. She was under the impres- 
 sion that Mrs. Howard Sykes disliked her, simply 
 because some bitter speeches of that lady had 
 been carried to her. But Eleanor's good qualities 
 had not escaped Mrs. Sykes ; besides, the Judge 
 had been kind to her in earlier days. Eleanor 
 was firm in her refusal to accept hospitality. 
 
 "What will you do? " Mrs. Sykes asked, thor- 
 oughly disgusted by Eleanor's obstinacy. 
 
 " Work," said Eleanor.
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 213 
 
 Mrs. Sykes looked at her from the soft hair, 
 carefully dressed, to the white ruffles on her gown. 
 Then she took one of Eleanor's hands, and said, 
 derisively : 
 
 " I shouldn't expect much work from these 
 hands in the factory." 
 
 Eleanor colored. Mrs. Howard Sykes meant 
 well, but it was hard to bear the coarseness of 
 her tone. And Laura Bayard laughed at the 
 vision of Eleanor Redwood in a factory ; and yet 
 there was a certain pleasure in the laugh. De la 
 Rochefoucauld had natures like hers in his mind 
 when he said that we rejoice in the misfortunes 
 of our friends. 
 
 " But, my dear Eleanor, things may improve. 
 In our part of the world, everybody is poor some 
 time in their lives. Look how poor I was onct " 
 Mrs. Howard Sykes always said onct, " and 
 now I keep my own carriages. The Fly-Away 
 Mines may come out all right in the end. You 
 just hold on to the shares." 
 
 "The mines are ruined, Harry says," put in 
 Mrs. Bayard, in alarm. She said no more. If 
 she represented the mines as worthless, Eleanor 
 might retain the shares as of no use to Desmond. 
 But Mrs. Sykes. who was deaf, made her repeat 
 her speech. 
 
 " Your husband is not the only expert in the 
 country. I should have other opinions, if I were 
 Eleanor's adviser."
 
 214 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 Mrs. Bayard looked daggers. "I am sure," she 
 went on, " that Harry, as Eleanor's friend, would 
 be only too glad to give a favorable opinion, if 
 he could." 
 
 " Umph ! " muttered Mrs. Sykes, " ' Harry ' may 
 not know everything. It is simply a question as 
 to how much capital it would take to get the 
 water out." 
 
 "But we have nothing," said Eleanor, with a 
 sigh. " And the shares " she hesitated. 
 
 Laura Bayard read her thoughts. She knew at 
 that moment that she might save herself some 
 diplomacy ; those shares would go to Patrick 
 Desmond. She uttered a sigh of relief. She had 
 clear sailing before her. What simple-minded, 
 selfish, vain creature all men in her opinion 
 were selfish and vain, but few simple-minded 
 could resist the influence of her sister Elaine? 
 A light compunction entered her breast as she 
 looked at Eleanor ; but she immediately repressed 
 it. Nonsense ! This was business. She was justi- 
 fied in taking any advantage that would bring her 
 what she most desired, and that was money. 
 Money meant happiness ; the lack of it, despair. 
 
 " What will you work at ? " demanded Mrs. 
 Sykes, uncompromisingly. 
 
 " I will find something to do," answered El- 
 eanor. " My father shall never want for anything 
 as long as I have my two hands."
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 215 
 
 Mrs. Howard Sykes looked at her pityingly. 
 "If you were a Swede or a Pole, with strong 
 hands used to hard work, you might find employ- 
 ment ; but you ain't fit for anything. You can 
 preside at a luncheon or a Coffee, or something of 
 that kind ; but what else can you do ? And the 
 work of receiving people don't pay." 
 
 The door creaked violently. "The idear," 
 muttered Belinda, "of that hag putting on airs. 
 She couldn't make a meringue pie like Eleanor 
 Redwood to save her life . I never could abide 
 the Sykeses. They're sly." 
 
 "I shall go to New York and learn to paint 
 pictures," said Eleanor, shyly. " I always wanted 
 to be able to paint, but papa laughed at it. I 
 think I might learn, if I studied hard under a 
 good master. My panels have been praised, you 
 know." 
 
 Mrs. Howard Sykes did not know much about 
 art. The Redwood local papers had said some 
 fine things, on various occasions, about Eleanor's 
 panels ; but she had never looked at them from 
 the bread-and-butter point of view. 
 
 "I'm sure," the good lady said, dubiously, 
 " that them geraniums you painted on my birth- 
 day cup were very natural " 
 
 " Wild roses," corrected Eleanor. 
 
 "Whatever they were," continued Mrs. Sykes, 
 " they were good enough for me ; but, then, I
 
 216 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 ain't no judge. I never knew any kind of paint- 
 ing to pay except sign-painting. If you mean 
 that, it would be awkward for a young lady to be 
 getting up and down off scaffolds, though women 
 are taking to all kinds of work nowaday. But, if 
 your mind is set on it, I think you could learn 
 to do that just as well here as in New York, and 
 maybe better." 
 
 Laura laughed. Eleanor looked helpless. She 
 was spared further reply by the sudden entrance 
 of Belinda. 
 
 " I can't wait and hear no more such talk, and 
 my bread burning down in the oven. Miss Red- 
 wood ain't an object of charity, ladies ; and she 
 needn't take to climbing no scaffolds while I'm 
 alive," cried Belinda, flourishing her apron. " And 
 I wonder, Mrs. Howard Sykes, that a woman 
 of your age should think of such a thing. I'm 
 going to stick to Eleanor and the Judge, so you 
 needn't come here with any of your charity." 
 
 By some occult means, Belinda suddenly be- 
 came aware that she could stay no longer, and she 
 fled defiantly. Mrs. Howard Skyes felt subdued ; 
 Belinda had too many revenges in her grasp to be 
 reprimanded even by a woman who drove to the 
 Judge's in the smartest Victoria in Redwood. 
 Belinda's meteor-like appearance broke off the 
 conversation. Mrs. Sykes, finding argument and 
 entreaty and threat all useless, drove back home
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 217 
 
 with her cushions. Mrs. Bayard waited to deliver 
 a parting shot, in the hope that her young friend 
 might be deterred from putting her hastily-formed 
 plan of going to New York into execution. 
 
 "Ah, dear Nora," she said, kissing her good- 
 by, "you will meet Mr. Desmond in New York. 
 How nice ! " 
 
 " Shall I ? " asked Eleanor, looking at her quite 
 frankly. "Do you think I shall? I hope so, 
 but I am afraid not, New York is so large. But 
 do you know, Laura, he is just the kind of man to 
 help one in trouble. He is so strong in his relig- 
 ious belief. I wish I could have a talk with him." 
 
 Mrs. Bayard went away with the feeling that 
 Eleanor was a consummate actress. She ought to 
 have known her better. Eleanor had never learned 
 to conceal her feelings, and this was the finest art 
 that Mrs. Bayard possessed. 
 
 Eleanor spent the rest of the afternoon with her 
 father. She did not dare to rebuke Belinda for 
 her outburst. What would be the use of it? Be- 
 sides, Belinda had shown a great deal of heart, 
 and Eleanor felt grateful for it. In truth, she felt 
 grateful to everybody. Who would have thought 
 that Mrs. Howard Sykes was really so kind ? 
 
 She tried to finish one of her half-finished pan- 
 els a wreath of pansies and clover blossoms. 
 People had praised her work so often, surely there 
 must be some good in it. She looked up several 
 back numbers of the Redwood Herald.
 
 218 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 " Miss Eleanor Redwood, the only daughter of 
 our respected townsman, Judge Redwood, exhib- 
 ited at the fancy fair an exquisite panel of forget- 
 me-nots and roses on a black ground. Miss 
 Redwood's tout ensemble is characterized by light- 
 ness of chiaro-oscuro and perspective. Miss Red- 
 wood has only to compete with the artists of the 
 Old World to take the crown. Vce victis! " 
 
 Eleanor admitted to herself that this was not 
 very clear or very well written, but it was evident 
 that the writer admired her style. There was 
 comfort in it. Another scrap likewise consoled 
 her. This was from a rival sheet: 
 
 " Miss Redwood's beautiful panel of morning- 
 glories entwining a Corinthian Column excited 
 much admiration in the window of Mr. Crombie's 
 art store. It is a thing of beauty and a joy for- 
 ever. We may differ from the Judge in politics, 
 but we are one in art. We cannot express this 
 in the hog Latin of our esteemed contemporary, 
 the Herald, but we know a good thing when we 
 see it." 
 
 Mrs. Howard Sykes might mistake her wild 
 roses for geraniums; but, then, poor Mrs. Sykes 
 knew very little about art. Eleanor was consoled. 
 Her father slept, with the beads in his fingers. 
 How like a child he looked how calm, how 
 peaceful. She kissed his forehead. Suppose 
 suppose she should fail to help him ! her heart
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 219 
 
 _Dod still. Oh! no. She might fail, but God 
 would not. The crucifix held fast in his hands 
 did not seem strange to her, though all her life 
 she had been taught to look on it with distrust. 
 He loved it and she loved it now. How absurd 
 it was for all Christians not to love it. It sud- 
 denly dawned on her that Christianity must be a 
 very real thing to those who loved the crucifix 
 and lived at the feet of the figure of Our Saviour. 
 She could not get over the wonder of her father's 
 turning to it at last. He had smiled at texts from 
 the Scriptures, and had often said that if there was 
 anything idolatrous in the Roman Church it was 
 the outward reverence paid to the Bible. The 
 Bible had failed, and the crucifix had conquered. 
 It was not strange ; it seemed natural enough ; 
 but it was so sudden. 
 
 Protestants, she knew had not Mr. Stokes told 
 her so? would not believe that the crucifix 
 would do her father any good. Mrs, Desmond 
 was the only one who would sympathize with her. 
 After awhile, when Dr. Talbot should come, she 
 would run over to Mrs. Desmond's, leave the 
 shares in the Fly-Away Mines to be sent to Pat- 
 rick who, at least, would understand that she 
 meant atonement, and perhaps hear a word of 
 consolation from her. 
 
 After a time Belinda made her appearance. 
 She looked grimmer than usual, but her eyes were 
 red and swollen.
 
 220 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 " Your tea is ready downstairs," she said, ag- 
 gressively. " But the bread's like a cinder, owing 
 to a lot of women gossiping and chattering. If 
 they had stayed home and minded their business 
 I could have attended to mine." 
 
 " What is the difference, Belinda ? " remarked 
 Eleanor. " There's only you and me to think of 
 now. If the bread isn't so nice, who cares ? Papa 
 can have rolls." 
 
 " I have a conscience," Belinda went on, grimly ; 
 " and it's a tormentin' conscience. I sometimes 
 think it's a devil in disguise God forgive me ! 
 It's always a-botherin' me and askin' questions. I 
 am a-worrying this minute to death whether I'll 
 be damned in hell-fire for shutting the door in 
 Mr. Partridge's face and saying you were not at 
 home that day." 
 
 " I was not at home to him." 
 
 " Oh ! what do you know about it ? Mr. Stokes 
 would say it was a lie. If it was a lie, I'm damned, 
 and that's all about it ; so what's the use of try- 
 ing to be good ? But Mr. Stokes ain't no kind of 
 a spiritooal consoler. He doesn't know what he 
 believes. You go down and get your tea, and 
 don't be talking here. Go ! And then take a run 
 in the fresh air." 
 
 Eleanor paused, standing, and looked at Be- 
 linda with wistful kindness. 
 
 " Go ! " repeated the latter. " When you find
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 221 
 
 out the great wrong I've done you through my 
 wish to help the heathen and the worst of it is 
 I believe Mr. Stokes is a heathen himself, you'll 
 hate me. Go ! I'll sit with your pa. To think of 
 what I did for the heathen, and to know that 
 they're to be saved after all the missionary money 
 that's been spent for nothing ! Oh ! go, don't 
 rnind me." 
 
 Eleanor went, after a tender look at her father. 
 She knew that there was no use in asking ques- 
 tions of Belinda. Her business was to go.
 
 222 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Who can say where impulse will lead the wisest ; or how 
 deep intuition may lead the pure to see ? Oecco di Napoli. 
 
 THE Fly-Away Mines disaster had its time 
 its day, as it were, and then other matters occu- 
 pied attention. Bayard knew very well that, if 
 the Judge were in good health, his opinion as to 
 the condition of the mines would not have stood 
 alone. As it was, he doubted whether Dr. Talbot 
 of some of the Judge's friends would not take the 
 matter in hand. The mines were small, and the 
 Judge had been the largest stockholder, the others 
 depending very much on him. 
 
 It must be admitted that, on second thoughts, 
 his wife's plan for marrying Desmond to her sister, 
 in order that the stock might be concentrated in 
 the family, seemed somewhat absurd. But he was 
 desperate, and his wife was even more desperate ; 
 they both longed and thirsted for money, and there 
 was no possible way of getting it except by some 
 bold movement. Laura's scheme was impulsive 
 and too imaginative. And yet he had known that 
 her expedients some of them as illogical had 
 often succeeded. He laughed sardonically when 
 he thought of it. There were too many " ifs " in 
 the arrangement. If nobody discovered that the 
 condition of the mines was not hopeless ; if Eleanor
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 223 
 
 should be silly enough to give the shares to Des- 
 mond ; if he should let Mrs. Bayard's sister marry 
 him. Bayard laughed again. It was like a woman 
 to have the whole scheme turn on a possible 
 marriage. 
 
 It was true that Laura knew Eleanor, and the 
 minor premise of the plan might count for some- 
 thing. It was true, too, that Elaine was a very 
 clever widow, poor, anxious for money, and capa- 
 ble of marrying anybody who could give it to 
 her ; but, after all, Desmond was the unknown 
 quantity. He might be dazzled by Elaine or he 
 might not ; he might be ambitious in other direc- 
 tions, and quite impervious to the social advantages 
 which a marriage with Elaine would give him. 
 In fact, after some consideration, Bayard felt 
 disgusted with Laura's scheme. But was there a 
 better one possible ? To whisper to anybody 
 that the Fly- A way Mines were not utterly ruined 
 would be fatal ; he could trust nobody except 
 Laura, and he trusted her only because her inter- 
 est was his. Eleanor was a fool in business 
 matters ; it would not be necessary to tell her 
 much. If he could have borrowed money enough 
 to make Eleanor a tempting offer for the shares, 
 he might have done so ; but he was hopelessly in 
 debt. If the shares passed to Patrick Desmond, 
 he might buy them from him if he had the 
 money ; but, then, if Desmond were clever, the
 
 224 THE SUCCESS OF PATftICK DESMOND. 
 
 fact that he had an offer for them would make 
 him suspect that they were not as worthless as 
 they seemed. Laura's scheme was ridiculous, he 
 admitted, and yet it fascinated him. 
 
 Elaine, his wife's sister, was now the Baroness 
 von Homburg. She lived in a flat up town in 
 New York, and taught music. She had been sent 
 abroad when she was twenty for tne cultivation of 
 her voice j she even sang a minor part in one of 
 Wagner's operas at Baireuth, and then starved in 
 various Italian and German cities, as many 
 American girls with great ambitions and small 
 voices do. She had met in Dresden a young 
 German student, the Baron von Homburg. He 
 had married her ; and when he died the " beautiful 
 American," as she was called, was left almost 
 penniless, his parents, believing very little in 
 their daughter-in-law, having withdrawn the small 
 pension they allowed him. The Baroness tried 
 the operatic stage again (she had made her 
 entrance in the first Minuet of Nations, done at 
 Redwood, in 1860), and failed. She came then 
 to New York and began to teach vocal music. 
 Her title helped her; but, as the value of her 
 method was not great, she was obliged to go 
 through much drudgery for small returns. To 
 get away from this wretched life was her one 
 idea, her one hope. She way no longer the " beau- 
 tiful American." Pearl-powder, blonde dye, and
 
 HIE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 225 
 
 Indian ink, gave her a complexion, golden hair, 
 and expression. She was a faded, hopeless woman, 
 without faith, and with only one desire to live 
 luxuriously, as those enviable beings of the 
 " leisure classes " lived. 
 
 On Saturday evenings, at eight o'clock, a score 
 of people went up to her little flat. She was " at 
 home " ; and then, with her most fascinating airs 
 and graces, she served tea from a Russian samovar, 
 and forgot the wild shrieks of her pupils and 
 their dreadful pounding on the piano. At eight 
 on Saturday she became the Baroness, and kept 
 that character until Monday morning. Then, she 
 became again the music mistress, and the scales 
 pierced her ears. She hated her life ; submission 
 to the will of God was out of the question in a 
 woman who never thought of God, except to call 
 down maledictions on the Baron's family for their 
 selfishness. The necessity of petty economies, the 
 bitterness of hearing of the profusion of the rich 
 for in her social set this profusion was the theme 
 of constant conversation, the wretchedness of 
 walking while others drove, the cold " cut " given 
 by some woman who had met the Baroness casually 
 and who did not care to keep up the acquaintance, 
 all the many miseries entailed by pretentious- 
 ness and the sense of failure were this woman's. 
 How little her title amounted to among the people 
 who crowded Delmomco's after the opera, or who
 
 226 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 were the centres of some of those large parties to 
 which she was sometimes invited to sing. In 
 New York an English title is omnipotent; and 
 any other foreign title, if a man wear it, is not 
 without power. But with a woman it is different : 
 a German Baroness or a French Marquise or an 
 Italian Countess knocks at the gates of society in 
 vain, unless she be rich. 
 
 There were certain poets and " poetesses " of 
 passion, singers at the theatres, editors of unknown 
 papers, and " cranks," who drank tea regularly at 
 the Baroness's "Saturdays." They wrote about 
 themselves in the papers, and Nellie Galligan, up 
 in Harlem, read of them with awe ; but, then, 
 Nellie had not yet learned to discriminate. And 
 the day when the Baroness's card was brought up 
 by the janitor's son the little boy in buttons 
 who had so greatly impressed Patrick Desmond 
 was an epoch in the career of the wife of the Hon. 
 Miles Galligan. 
 
 Laura Bayard had lost no time in explaining her 
 plan to the Baroness ; and the Baroness, who had 
 lived on novels until no scheme seemed imprac- 
 tical, determined at least to put the ball in motion. 
 Laura had not found it difficult to get Desmond's 
 address ; and although he was now at the Tivoli 
 Hotel, the people at the office had given her the 
 name of the Grand Windsor. 
 
 Nellie was very thankful that she had not
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 227 
 
 begun her preparations for moving down town; 
 for the hour was near when the family would 
 have to consider Miles' constituents. For some 
 time she had been living in the Grand Windsor 
 " for change of air " ; she could not endure the 
 atmosphere of the district in which Miles' constit- 
 uents lived. But Miles was compelled by cir- 
 cumstances to live down town in order to retain 
 his votes, as well as his right to be elected ; and 
 in a very short time it would be necessary for 
 him to reassume his place of residence in his own 
 district, previous to Nellie's flight to Saratoga. 
 How grateful she was that she was still among 
 her red velvet draperies when the Baroness called 
 She was sadly disappointed, however, when she 
 found that the great lady had merely sent up her 
 card and disappeared. The next day she was 
 relieved when she was informed, in the best style 
 of engraving, that the Baroness would be at home, 
 in East 40th Street, on Saturday at eight o'clock. 
 At that moment Nellie felt at peace with all the 
 world. 
 
 In the meantime Bayard had received satis- 
 factory evidence that the first of Laura's " ifs " 
 tvas out of the way. Eleanor stopped on the way 
 to Mrs. Desmond's to consult him about the 
 mines. It had occurred to her that some legal 
 transfer might be necessary in order to make 
 them validly the property of Desmond. They
 
 228 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 were probably worth nothing, Eleanor reasoned ; 
 but, at least, Desmond should see that she meant 
 to acknowledge his right to them. They would 
 be a sort of pledge, which, in time, she might 
 redeem. She said to herself that it was foolish 
 to give him worthless papers but she wanted 
 to do it ; and, besides, he was a man and might 
 make them valuable in time. 
 
 Bayard explained to her that the transfer could 
 be made the next day ; he would attend to it, if 
 she would come to his office. She went away 
 relieved delighted, too, that Bayard did not ask 
 her questions. 
 
 "The girl's a Quixotic fool," he said to his 
 wife, after Eleanor had left the parlor of the 
 Howard House. 
 
 "No," returned Laura, "she's not a fool; she 
 is only a woman with all the impulsiveness of a 
 woman who has ideals " 
 
 " Without ideas," sneered Bayard. 
 
 " Oh ! I don't know about that. Half the fool- 
 ish things in the world are done on impulse ; and 
 half the evil and treacherous things, to conceal 
 the real motive of the first action. When Eleanor 
 realizes that this cheap act of restitution, which 
 she does because she is in love with Patrick 
 Desmond, has made her father poor, she'll move 
 the earth to undo it." Laura laughed cynically. 
 "If she knew the world better, she would wait 
 and trust no one. But let her go on."
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PAT1UCK DESMOND. 229 
 
 Eleanor found that Mrs. Desmond was not 
 alone in the little house. She had two visitors 
 Mr. Stokes and Jack Conlon. Jack had come to 
 say good-by ; and Mr. Stokes, who missed Patrick, 
 had called to ask for news. Mr. Stokes' listening 
 eyes brightened as Eleanor entered, and he gently 
 adjusted his blue necktie. Jack looked at her 
 with interest. Miss Redwood in distress was a 
 much more sympathetic personality in his eyes 
 than the haughty Miss Redwood of prosperity. 
 
 Eleanor was a little paler than usual. When 
 she entered the room, which was lighted by the 
 soft after-glow of sunset, the faint perfume of the 
 lilies of the valley in her belt came with her. 
 Mrs. Desmond breathed a prayer of gratitude 
 that Patrick was not at home. He might have 
 kept his promise to avoid Eleanor, if she were 
 rich and courted ; but Eleanor poor and neglected 
 would conquer with a glance. To Mrs. Desmond's 
 consternation Eleanor asked for Patrick's address. 
 This the old lady gave, nattering herself that her 
 son was safe out of the way. 
 
 Eleanor hoped that Jack Conlon and Mr. Stokes 
 would go ; she longed for a talk with Mrs. 
 Desmond. Mrs. Desmond had known her mother ; 
 she had learned the secret of living peacefully 
 and patiently. As Eleanor looked at the cheerful 
 old face, she thought of the " celestial brightness " 
 which, Longfellow tells us, made Evangeline's 
 face more beautiful after confession.
 
 230 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 Surrounded by people, Eleanor had always been 
 alone. She had followed the customs of the world 
 around her, but she had always secretly longed for 
 a better one. She had often dreamed of some 
 Forest of Arden, to which she could go with her 
 father and find something that her life lacked. 
 Unpractical and unspoiled, she valued love above 
 all things ; and it seemed sad to her that the heart 
 that loved her so much her father's should 
 be filled by so many mere earthly things. In 
 Mrs. Desmond she saw love personified : her son, 
 after God, filled her life. And in this simple old 
 woman, with toil-hardened hands and uncultivated 
 talk whom most of Eleanor's friends looked on 
 from their heights as an ignorant drudge, she 
 saw a beautiful soul, which must enshrine a 
 treasure as rich as a ruby and as soft as an opal. 
 It was this treasure that Eleanor coveted ; for the 
 pure in heart have intuitions that later, when they 
 receive the light, are known as " instincts of 
 faith." And Eleanor was pure in heart and full 
 of these rare intuitions. 
 
 Jack Conlon, happy in his own father's partial 
 recovery, was most solicitous about the Judge. 
 Mr. Stokes regretted that the Minuet of Nations, 
 which Eleanor had quite forgotten, must go on 
 without her. Mrs. Desmond, glad that Patrick 
 was out of the way, expressed real pleasure in 
 Eleanor's visit, and offered her a cup of tea.
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 231 
 
 " I thought perhaps you might be going to 
 church, Mrs. Desmond," Eleanor said ; " and, if 
 you are, I should like to walk that far with you." 
 
 " The church is not open to-night, dear," Mrs. 
 Desmond answered, in surprise at Eleanor's 
 request. " Indeed I wish it was ; I should be 
 glad to go with you." 
 
 " I have been anxious all day, and I had an 
 idea that a visit to your church would be nice. 
 It is so restful there." 
 
 Mr. Stokes looked surprised, Jack Conlon, 
 amused, " restful " seemed to him to be so 
 characteristic of the non-Catholic idea of the 
 Church. 
 
 " You'll be turning Catholic before you know 
 it, Miss Redwood," Mr. Stokes said, smiling. 
 " To young people of your tendencies the Church 
 of Rome has a fatal attraction." 
 
 " Why ' fatal ' ? " demanded Jack, promptly. 
 
 Eleanor, with equal promptness, saved Mr. 
 Stokes. " I am attracted toward the Catholic 
 Church," she said ; " I must admit that, because it 
 is so much more liberal than other churches." 
 
 Conlon smiled, and Mr. Stokes fanned himself 
 with his early strawhat. This was amazing. 
 
 " Yes," said Eleanor, stirring her tea ; " Mr. 
 Stokes could give me no comfort the other day 
 when papa seemed to be dying ; at least, he didn't 
 seem to think there was any comfort for me in
 
 232 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 our church. Of course, I knew papa had not 
 read much in the Bible of late years he was 
 never a professor of religion, you know, Mrs. 
 Desmond, and he had often laughed at revivals 
 and other things. But I know he always believed 
 in a God, though not the strict, Presbyterian God 
 whom he had learned to dislike when he was a 
 boy " 
 
 Jack Conlon laughed ; Mr. Stokes looked 
 shocked ; Eleanor stopped, blushing. 
 
 " I hope I don't seem irreverent," she ex- 
 plained, in a low voice ; " I merely want to tell 
 you how my father felt. And when I thought he 
 was dying, and I saw that he seemed to think so 
 much of the figure of Christ on the cross, I hoped 
 that there might be a chance for him. But Mr. 
 Stokes seemed to believe that he could not go to 
 Heaven ; and of course, as there is no middle place, 
 he must be lost." 
 
 " But there is a middle place, Miss Redwood," 
 observed Jack Conlon : " there is Purgatory." 
 
 " Oh ! indeed, I hope so," said Eleanor. "And 
 it is because you have this middle place for poor 
 people who are not fit to live forever with demons, 
 and yet not good enough to be with God all at 
 once, that I think your Church is so liberal 
 
 " I said," interrupted Mr. Stokes, solemnly, 
 " that a liking for a symbol, a mere piece of metal, 
 did not show a change of heart, that was all."
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 233 
 
 Jack did not speak; he was thinking. Here 
 was a new evidence that all roads lead "to Rome. 
 He had never contemplated the possibility of a 
 Protestant admiring the Church because of " lib- 
 erality." 
 
 " Sure, who can tell what Judge Redwood's 
 thoughts were when he stood face to face with 
 death ? " asked Mrs. Desmond. " God is very 
 good and very merciful. And surely the soul 
 that looked its last in love and penitence on the 
 face of the thorn-crowned Lord couldn't be fit 
 company for devils for ever and ever." 
 
 " Thank you ! " cried Eleanor, thinking that 
 she had never heard sweeter poetry than came 
 from the lips of this uneducated woman. 
 
 " Don't thank me, dear," said Mrs. Desmond, 
 rising from her seat and finding her prayer-book 
 in a closet near the mantelpiece. She took a little 
 printed slip from between its leaves. " Here's 
 something that will help you ; 'tis the Memorare- 
 Say that every day with all your heart, and every- 
 thing will come right," 
 
 Eleanor took the slip with an eagerness that 
 scandalized Mr. Stokes. " Indeed I will, Mrs. 
 Desmond," she answered. 
 
 " Symbols," he suggested, gently, " do not make 
 for salvation. I distrust the use of symbols : they 
 obscure the real." 
 
 " And what do you believe, Mr. Stokes ? "
 
 234 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 Jack Cordon demanded, suddenly. " Do you be- 
 lieve that Christ is God ? " 
 
 Mr. Stokes' face became painful to look at ; he 
 was a truthful man, and felt obliged to answer : 
 
 " I hardly know. Emerson's belief in the po- 
 tentiality of all noble men of Socrates, of Plato, 
 of Marcus Aurelius 
 
 " Don't go any further," said Jack, with a look 
 at Mrs. Desmond's frightened face. " I presume, 
 then," he added, with a touch of unwarrantable 
 sarcasm, " that if you do pray to the Son of God, 
 you look upon Him merely as a Unitarian saint, 
 like Marcus Aurelius and the rest." 
 
 Mr. Stokes seemed startled. This assertion 
 had a sting in it for him ; he did not know how 
 to answer it ; he wished he had held his tongue. 
 
 " Just as I am," he said, after a pause, " I put 
 my burden on the Rock of Ages, without one 
 plea." 
 
 "Ah! Mr. Stokes," murmured Jack, gently, 
 " you know that does not satisfy you." 
 
 Mr. Stokes sighed : he knew that he was at sea, 
 yet he hated to think of Eleanor Redwood's find- 
 ing comfort in the Roman Catholic Church. 
 
 As the young men did not go, Eleanor took 
 her leave. " I am about to send Mr. Desmond 
 some papers, which he must not think of return- 
 ing: they are his," she said, clasping Mrs. Des- 
 mond's extended hand cordially. The old lady
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 235 
 
 ..rf turned the pressure warmly ; Patrick was safe, 
 and now she could like Eleanor unreservedly. 
 
 " Your Church may yet get a convert in El- 
 eanor Redwood," said Mr. Stokes, with a touch of 
 bitterness, as he and Jack Conlon walked home- 
 ward. " It won't be prayer, as the old lady 
 thinks, but Desmond, that will bring her into the 
 fold." 
 
 " You do her injustice, Stokes," the other an- 
 swered. " You don't understand ; you see only 
 the human side of life. She is not thinking of 
 Desmond at all in that way." 
 
 Jack Conlon, too, had his intuitions.
 
 236 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Love with anxiety is a living death. Conrad von Bolanden. 
 
 IN a row of brown stone houses, all alike, with 
 heavy balusters and deeply encased basement 
 doors, almost in the centre of the city of New 
 York, lived Mr. and Mrs. Arthur Fitzgerald. 
 Mrs. Arthur Fitzgerald, who had been Mary Gal- 
 ligan, had changed somewhat since her marriage. 
 She was handsomer than when she had taught 
 school, and worried about Miles, and managed the 
 household expenses, and kept her lively sister 
 Esther now Mrs. John Longworthy in order. 
 She did not seem so careworn as she had been 5 
 she was like a half-closed flower that gradually 
 expands in the sun. And there were times when 
 she was as entirely contented as any earthly being 
 could be ; yet no day dawned without a dark fear 
 coming with it. She had no fear for her husband : 
 he was good and manly and true. Together 
 every morning he and she went to an early Mass, 
 and then said good-by until the evening ; but she 
 had no fear for Arthur : love, respect and grati- 
 tude made a perfume about the very thought of 
 his name. She was not anxious about material 
 things : Arthur's practice at the law was good, 
 and his patrimony had increased in value ; he was 
 enabled to live well without anxiety. And she
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. -37 
 
 no longer turned her old silk frocks, or indulged 
 in those economies which had formerly excited 
 Esther to rebellion. 
 
 But her brother Miles was never absent from 
 her mind. She knew that he seldom went to 
 Mass, that he avoided the confessional ; she knew 
 that he was growing more and more careless 
 Esther had once said " brutal," and Mary had 
 felt as if a dagger had pierced her heart. No, 
 Miles could never be brutal ; whatever were his 
 faults, he could never deserve that epithet. 
 " Brutal ! " how could Esther have used it ? 
 Did she realize that he had the pure Irish blood 
 of a pious father and mother in his veins ? And 
 Mary had begged her sister to take it back, but 
 Esther had not done so. 
 
 " Miles was made selfish by his education," she 
 had said ; " he was indulged and pampered, and 
 all the weeds of his nature brought to the sur- 
 face. He was bad enough when he was with us ; 
 he was only selfish then, now he is brutalized. 
 Do I pity him? No! But I do pity his wife and 
 child. If I can ever help them I will although 
 his wife is Nellie Mulligan, but I don't care to 
 live in the same city with him or her." 
 
 And so Esther had gone off to London and 
 Paris, glad to get away from the sad look that 
 came into Mary's face whenever Miles' name was 
 mentioned, glad to live her own life, and to
 
 238 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 study new problems with that delightful John, 
 whose existence induced her to tolerate the rest 
 of the male sex. 
 
 Mary was lonely without her at first, and 
 Arthur's long day at the office seemed doubly 
 long. But she was a woman of many charities ; she 
 haunted the tenement house called The Anchor, 
 and did much to improve the condition of the 
 poor in that structure. She had read John Long- 
 worthy's " Poverty and Sin " with deep interest. 
 He held that poverty in city life was a terrible 
 curse, because it resulted in degradation and 
 temptation to sin. And, as it was not in her 
 power to apply the remedies he suggested, she 
 went about in the old-fashioned way, directed 
 when in doubt by the priests of the parish, 
 encouraging, teaching, giving; and among the 
 younger people she had already produced certain 
 results. But among the older women, devotion 
 to beer and gossip was so intense that she believed 
 nothing but death could change them. 
 
 She had no theories ; she accepted facts as they 
 were. She did not believe that poverty could be 
 ever extirpated from the earth, or its conse- 
 quences abolished ; but she did believe that it 
 was a greater curse in the crowded tenement 
 houses in New York than anywhere else within 
 her knowledge. She did not raise her voice in 
 condemning the gayety and frivolity of the
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 233 
 
 younger people. She sometimes compared her 
 own carefully guarded youth with that of these 
 young girls, who flaunted at picnics and assemblies, 
 and whose life was divided between drudgery and 
 what they called pleasure ; and she prayed for 
 them all with a shudder. She understood them, 
 she understood how deceitful were appearances ; 
 and she understood, too, that the cause of their 
 dangerous gayety and frivolity lay in the fact that 
 they had no homes. 
 
 Mary tried to dedicate herself to the task of 
 making the homes in The Anchor more homelike. 
 It was not an easy one, for habit had to be con- 
 tended against. But Mary never lost sight of the 
 truth that love is the secret of success ; she loved 
 these people, and her suffering on Miles' account 
 had made her tolerant. It was very difficult for 
 these young girls, after a day's hard labor in a 
 wretchedly ventilated warehouse or factory, to 
 resist the temptation of a dance, in summer on 
 the sea-breeze swept docks, in winter in one of 
 the assembly halls. All this led to many evils ; 
 but the evils, so far as Mary could understand, 
 were not much greater than those developed 
 through excessive love of amusement in any posi- 
 tion of life. She had read Mr. Ward McAllister's 
 book as well as John Longworthy's ; and it seemed 
 to her that the life as depicted in one was not less 
 vulgar than that shown to exist by the other.
 
 240 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 There was the difference that beer was cheaper 
 than champagne ; but surely it was as bad for a 
 young woman to partake publicly of one as of the 
 other. 
 
 Mary, through her love and tolerance, got very 
 near to many of the young women of The Anchor. 
 Give them home amusements, teach them the 
 household arts, tread down the weed envy, make 
 them understand the meaning of the Magnificat, 
 and the most difficult points of the social problem, 
 over which so many throughout the world were 
 puzzling, would be met. The question, in Mary's 
 opinion, was of mothers and homes. But what 
 homes could be made in The Anchor, with 
 drunken ravings and habitual blasphemy filling 
 the air, where there might be innocence of 
 evil, but no ignorance of it? And how were 
 good mothers to be graduated from a domestic 
 atmosphere of such malarious properties ? 
 
 There were many true homes and true mothers 
 in the tenement houses of New York. Mary 
 knew this, but her principal concern was with 
 The Anchor, where tenement-house life was almost 
 at its worst. Longworthy, in his book, had pre- 
 sented the evils of the overcrowded tenements ; 
 but he had offered no remedy, except that the 
 city should look more carefully after their sanitary 
 qualities. Thanks to him, the families in The 
 Anchor were provided, in the summer, with good
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 241 
 
 vegetables, milk and ice at moderate rates, through 
 the usual dealers in those commodities ; and he 
 had established a system which did away with the 
 ruinous price they paid for their coal in winter. 
 But this was not enough, and yet John Long- 
 worthy, assisted by large wealth and all Esther's 
 capability, had not gone any farther. Extrava- 
 gance, envy, drunkenness, domestic quarrels, lazi- 
 ness among the young men, and a feverish desire 
 for amusement on the part of the young women, 
 were rampant. So far as Mary could see, the 
 only remedy lay in inducing each individual in 
 The Anchor to believe firmly that he had certain 
 duties to perform beyond the mere act of living. 
 
 Religion had a strong hold on the young 
 women ; it, and not public opinion, kept them 
 from those great sins of which the unthinking 
 might accuse them, judging only from appear- 
 ances. The annual "mission" at the Catholic 
 church in whose parish The Anchor was, had 
 great force with the young men. Whatever 
 reactionary power against debasement they pos- 
 sessed was due to the confessional. But while 
 religion could keep most of them from becoming 
 entirely degraded, while it lifted them up after 
 they had fallen, while they caught at it as men 
 climbing up a mountain side catch at a stout 
 branch as they fall, and save themselves in the 
 very act of falling, it had little effect in mak-
 
 <M2 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 ing the habitual " loafer " see that he ought not 
 to live on the earnings of his mother, the washer- 
 woman ; or in causing young Grogan, for instance, 
 to support his wife. Nobody in The Anchor 
 believed that poverty could be a blessing. And 
 yet Mary saw that they must come to regard it as 
 a blessing to regard it as a means of grace 
 before it could be possible to make it endurable. 
 Neither John Longworthy nor anybody else writ- 
 ing on the social problem had shown how this 
 might be done. Mary did not know herself, but 
 she wanted very much to find out. 
 
 Arthur Fitzgerald did not bother himself with 
 such questions. He had his law business and 
 John Longworthy's real estate to look after. It 
 was his opinion that the city of New York would 
 one day become a place for business and ware- 
 houses exclusively. He had read a paper before 
 a Catholic club in which he had said that the rich 
 ought to be kind to the poor, and that the poor 
 ought not to envy the rich ; and he had expressed 
 the opinion that a return to Christian feudalism 
 would be the desirable thing. But he never 
 dreamed of explaining how the people in The 
 Anchor were to be made the contented subjects of 
 his ideal feudalism. 
 
 The real cross in his life was Miles. Miles 
 .stood between his wife's heart and his , she never 
 forgot her brother: he would come up in her
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 243 
 
 thoughts just as Arthur had made her almost 
 happy. Again, Miles was an unscrupulous poli- 
 tician, and the tool of more unscrupulous politi- 
 cians ; to take a bribe was a legitimate thing in 
 his eyes, to be caught was the illegitimate 
 thing. Politics meant business and Miles did 
 not hesitate to say so. To Arthur, trained by 
 the Jesuits to a delicate sense of honor in all the 
 relations of life, the necessity of associating with 
 such a man was deplorable. 
 
 Esther, in their talks, had sometimes made 
 bitter comparisons between Arthur and her 
 brother. "Why is it," she had asked, "that 
 Arthur, with the same education at school as 
 Miles, is so different? And I am sure Miles 
 wasn't born bad." 
 
 There was never any answer made to this, but 
 it was Arthur's private opinion that Miles had 
 been ruined by the over-indulgence of his mother 
 and the ease of taking the lowest standard of his 
 companions. But he did not care to ask questions ; 
 it was enough to know that Miles existed. It was 
 pain enough to fear that at any moment the name 
 of his brother-in-law might be seen in the lurid 
 heading of a newspaper, weighted with charges 
 that would be irrefutable. When that would 
 happen and Arthur felt that it was only 
 a question of time it would be necessary for 
 him to stand by this hateful relative ; for he knew
 
 244 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 that if all the crimes forbidden by the Decalogue 
 were proven against Miles, Mary would strive to 
 hold him innocent ; not only that, but she would 
 insist on his holding him innocent. The Long- 
 worthys had, he often said to himself, done well 
 to flee from a country that contained Miles. 
 
 Nellie was bad enough ; she was vulgar, yet 
 she must be socially recognized. And she had 
 a way of sending all sorts of people to him with 
 letters of introduction, beginning, " Dear Brother." 
 It was awkward. 
 
 It was absolutely necessary that the Fitzgeralds 
 should give a dinner party at least every six 
 months to these obnoxious relatives; and the 
 time had approached shortly after Patrick Des- 
 mond's arrival in New York. Nellie had hinted 
 several times that it ought to be an affair of great 
 splendor on this special occasion, because of Miles' 
 additional prestige in the political world. Nellie 
 did not explain why Miles ought to be considered 
 as more splendid than usual, but it was plainly 
 her fixed opinion that he was the most brilliant of 
 political stars. 
 
 "I will have nobody to meet them, Mary," 
 Arthur said, firmly ; " because there is nobody 
 that will understand them. Make the table 
 groan with flowers and ornaments, if you like, 
 but don't ask other people." 
 
 Mary's countenance fell. "Nellie will feel 
 slighted."
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 245 
 
 " Nellie is in a chronic state of ' slightedness.' " 
 
 ** But, after all, Arthur, they are my relatives," 
 ^aid Mary, with a touch of reproach in her voice. 
 
 " Nobody would suspect it if you didn't tell ; 
 and I'm sure I don't see why we should be anx- 
 ious come," he added, seeing tears in Mary's 
 eyes ; " come, don't cry. Ask everybody you like ; 
 but if that woman attempts to bring little Miley, 
 and to keep him on her lap during dinner, as she 
 did the last time, I will not endure it." 
 
 " Poor little Miley ! " said the other, with a sigh. 
 " Why have you such a grudge against little 
 Miley?" 
 
 " I love him," answered Arthur, politely, " when 
 he doesn't paddle in the soup." 
 
 Mary turned away ; this was levity. Why 
 could Arthur see no good in Miles ? she asked 
 in her heart. Why, he asked in his, should she 
 forgive all Miles' sins, and treat his lightest remark 
 as if it were a crime ? 
 
 " I suppose I may ask Father Jackson ? " 
 
 " Oh ! yes," said Arthur. " He will understand, 
 but nobody else. If you do, Mary, I'll go out of 
 town. I must go to a place called Eaglescliff, to 
 look into the condition of a mine there belonging 
 to a client. Now, if you ask a crowd to meet 
 Nellie and Miles, I'll go on Wednesday instead of 
 Thursday ; I will indeed." 
 
 Mary made no answer; she looked down at a
 
 246 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK J) ESMOND. 
 
 note she held. " Nellie says Wednesday would 
 suit her ; and she wants to bring her cousin, Mr. 
 Desmond " 
 
 "A nice young fellow," interrupted Arthur, 
 approvingly. " Miles calls him his secretary, but 
 he is out of place in that position. He was at 
 my office yesterday with a message." 
 
 Mary's face brightened and then clouded a 
 little. " She proposes to bring the Baroness von 
 Homburg." 
 
 " The Baroness von Humbug, my dear. You'd 
 better say no to that." 
 
 "How can I?" 
 
 " Well, let her come ; but it is awful." 
 
 " O, Arthur ! it's such a little thing to do for 
 Miles," said Mary, piteously. 
 
 Arthur shook his head. After all, Miles, at his 
 worst, could not deprive him of his cigar and 
 book.
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 247 
 
 XIX. 
 
 The heart judges finally ; the head merely argues. 
 
 " Paradoxes of a Philosopher." 
 
 ON second thoughts, Mary Fitzgerald felt some- 
 what doubtful about the Baroness von Homburg. 
 She might be but Mary, with her habitual chari- 
 tableness, dismissed the thought an adventuress, 
 who had attached herself to Nellie with interested 
 motives. To refuse to ask her to dinner would be 
 to add another grievance to those which Nellie 
 already cherished against her sister-in-law. Mary 
 copied the Baroness' address on an envelope, 
 which Nellie had enclosed in her note to Mary, 
 with a broad hint that a dinner-party on Wednes- 
 day would be acceptable. Mary debated whether 
 she should call on this Baroness or not. She had 
 little time to spare from her household and her 
 poor, so she solved the doubt by sending her card 
 with the invitation to dinner. A dinner to the 
 Galligans was no easy task. Miles had been sur- 
 feited with all kinds of banquets ; Nellie had be- 
 come more and more critical, and she considered it 
 a mark of high breeding to appear to underrate 
 any new thing or any old thing she had never 
 seen ; consequently, a hostess as anxious to please 
 as Mary, was at a great disadvantage. 
 
 Mary sighed as she thought of the trouble she
 
 248 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 would have to take in order to give her sister-in- 
 law no pretence for feeling " slighted." A simple 
 dinner might do for the Longworthys, but never 
 for the Galligans. For them every inch of silver 
 in the house had to be brought out, and the table 
 loaded with flowers. Besides, Nellie knew the 
 price of every flower in its hothouse season ; and 
 she was as likely to feel " hurt " because there 
 were no jonquils on the table in February, as to 
 have her sensitive heart lacerated by seeing com- 
 mon field daisies in July. Once she had been 
 led away from the dining-room by Miles because 
 there was only one soup, when as she had 
 heard on the best authority (that of the cook) 
 there had been two soups served oh the day before 
 for the Longworthys. Miles insisted on cham- 
 pagne of a good brand, and he had been known to 
 insinuate that the Fitzgeralds were capable of put- 
 ting him off with " American stuff." Arthur's 
 last words to Mary on the Monday before the 
 dinner party had been on this subject. 
 
 " I must ask as a favor, my dear, that you'll let 
 your brother have all the champagne he wants. I 
 don't like to hear that his wife makes remarks on 
 our stinginess." 
 
 " Oh I I am sure poor Nellie has been misrepre- 
 sented," Mary began. 
 
 " Perhaps. Don't give them any cause to com- 
 plain. If the fel if Miles drinks too much, it 
 is his own affair."
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 249 
 
 Mary changed color. "I think, Arthur, that 
 we might not have any wine for this once. It 
 might be a lesson to Miles." 
 
 Arthur Fitzgerald stared at his wife. " A dinner 
 without even a glass of claret. Impossible ! " 
 
 " Couldn't we have mineral water, or something, 
 instead ? " 
 
 Arthur laughed. " Ginger-beer with the oysters, 
 lemon soda with the roast, and Hunyadi with the 
 dessert hey, my dear ? Really, it's almost asking 
 too much that one should commit such absurdities 
 just to keep Miles from drinking to excess." 
 
 Mary sighed. If Arthur would only understand. 
 " Has he grown worse of late ? " Arthur asked, 
 more serenely. 
 
 " I am afraid, from what Nellie says, that he is 
 not the same as he was," Mary answered ; and her 
 imagination suddenly lent beauty and tenderness 
 to the past. 
 
 " He can't be much worse," murmured Arthur, 
 half-smiling, half-sighing, as he interpreted his 
 wife's thought. " If you will have it so, Mary, 
 I'll order no champagne. It's vulgar stuff, any- 
 how. But I can't banish a little claret." 
 
 Mary asked no more. She felt that this was a 
 concession costing Arthur much ; but she found 
 men very difficult to understand. Why wouldn't 
 mineral water and ginger-beer have done just as 
 well ? She had sickened with horror on several
 
 250 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 occasions to see Miles' face grow redder and redder, 
 and his speech thicker and thicker, as he gulped 
 glass after glass of his favorite wine, and added 
 copious draughts of whiskey to it later. Nellie, 
 at these times, had not been entirely comfortable ; 
 and yet there was a certain triumph in the sight of 
 Miles drinking unlimited champagne. In Nellie's 
 eyes, champagne and diamonds were the palms 
 awarded to the highest earthly merit. 
 
 Nellie and the Baroness von Homburg had 
 become very friendly in a few days. The Baroness 
 had made a low courtesy when Patrick Desmond 
 was presented to her, and had filled Nellie's ears 
 with rapturous exclamations on his personal ap- 
 pearance. In her heart the Baroness named him 
 a pleasant, honest young man, who might be easily 
 twisted around her finger. If he were rich he 
 would do very well as a husband ; she said to her- 
 self that she was past the time of sentiment : her 
 one desire was to get away from poverty and the 
 pupils in vocal music. If Nellie faithfully deliv- 
 ered to Desmond all the complimentary speeches 
 she had made, she felt sure that he would respond 
 with tender interest. There was one male quality 
 in which the Baroness implicitly believed, and 
 that was vanity. The woman, she held, who 
 offered incense to the vanity of men, might marry 
 anybody she choose. 
 
 Desmond's openly expressed horror of the con-
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 251 
 
 dition of social life as illustrated by Lize Smith's 
 party which had ended with a great flow of 
 beer and several black eyes, had nettled his 
 cousin. The idea of a rustic coming from the 
 country criticising New Yorkers. Lize Smith was 
 only Lize Smith, of course, she hadn't had ad- 
 vantages ; but the life that had been good enough 
 for Nellie Galligan ought to be good enough for 
 Patrick Desmond. Still Patrick would talk about 
 it ; the whole scene had shocked him beyond 
 measure, and it had set him to reading John 
 Longworthy's book, and puzzling about means of 
 remedy. Desmond loved money, because, in his 
 experience, money seemed to be the only natural 
 power that could accomplish anything in the 
 world. After that he desired the advancement of 
 men of his own blood ; he was none the less an 
 American that he wished his own people people 
 of his own religion and race not to dominate 
 especially, but to stand in the van of progress. 
 Strange to say, he never gave the suffering of 
 people of other blood than his own a thought. 
 His sympathy and horror were drawn out by the 
 degradation of the Grogans, the Smiths, and 
 others of Irish descent. This was partially due to 
 the fact that his mother had imbued him with a 
 chivalric and romantic idea of the Irish past. This 
 had something to do with his revolt against the 
 condition of affairs in Redwood. Every Irishman
 
 252 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 is a natural aristocrat; and, in Desmond's case, 
 the tendency had assumed its best form. He did 
 not look down on others : the nobleness of his 
 blood obliged him to keep himself up. 
 
 At Redwood, money had appeared to him to be 
 the great object of life ; in New York, it did not 
 seem to him so powerful, unless connected with 
 other things. He had not been ten days in Miles' 
 employ when he began to feel that poverty was 
 better than money earned as Miles was earning it. 
 
 Miles' next election was very doubtful. Nellie's 
 tact had been useful in some ways, but her desire 
 to get out of Miles' own district had not had a 
 good effect on the voters. Of course Miles had 
 kept a technical residence there, and Nellie had 
 come and gone living in Harlem only a while 
 for her health and Miley's ; but there was a 
 rumor, growing in volume, that the Galligans 
 were " stuck up." This did not affect the men 
 much, but the ladies made it the subject of much 
 bitter comment. Again, though Miles thought it 
 no shame to pick up dollars wherever he could in 
 the lobby, he had not been so generous as he 
 might have been. Several of his constituents had 
 been allowed to go to the Tombs and the Island 
 without the proper influence being exerted in their 
 behalf. He lied with ease and a certain grace; 
 but there comes a time when the man who has 
 swallowed the light and airy and palatable confec-
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 253 
 
 tion looks for something more solid. But the fact 
 was that Miles had been so much occupied in tak- 
 ing care of himself that he had not given the 
 proper degree of attention to his constituents. 
 
 Desmond, let into the secrets of Miles' politics, 
 had become sick at heart ; for he was both honest 
 and honorable. 
 
 " What a bird you are," Miles said, jocosely, 
 after he had unveiled a scheme of securing a 
 check from a gas company under false pretences. 
 " Money makes things go ; nobody considers it 
 wrong to get what he can. Business is business, 
 and politics is the tallest kind of business." 
 
 " But how can you " Patrick paused, and then 
 went on " how can you go to confession ? " 
 
 Miles frowned; his little eyes gleamed om- 
 inously. " Just you mind your business, young 
 fellow. Don't preach to me. I've got to make 
 a living." 
 
 Desmond's blood was up. " Well, I've not got 
 to help you make a living in a dishonest way," he 
 said, turning very red ; " and after this week you 
 must find somebody else to do your work." 
 
 Miles recovered his temper. Desmond wrote 
 good letters, and took a great deal of work off his 
 hands ; it would not do to break with him. He 
 only said : " You'll die in an almshouse yet." 
 
 "I'll die honest, at any rate," Patrick had an- 
 swered.
 
 254 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 Desmond brooded over this conversation ; he 
 determined to resign his office as private secretary. 
 The artificiality, the falsity of the Galligans' life, 
 affected him as the air of a crowded street-car 
 affects the skater who has just been careering over 
 clear ice on a bracing winter day. He would take 
 his chances in New York ; he would succeed hon- 
 estly, and never return to Redwood until he had 
 succeeded. 
 
 Nellie was determined to do away with the im- 
 pression that Lize Smith's party had made on 
 Desmond's mind. Before taking him to the abode 
 of her mother in The Anchor a presentation 
 which must soon be accomplished, she deter- 
 mined to introduce him to the Fitzgerald interior. 
 This would show him that the social surround- 
 ings of the Hon. Miles were not entirely of the 
 Lize Smith kind. She was irritated against Des- 
 mond. She believed that he was sarcastic ; he 
 seldom admired anything and never expressed sur- 
 prise ; he was too independent. At the same time 
 she respected him; she would have liked him 
 much better had he grovelled before the red vel- 
 vet portieres, and admitted that he had never seen 
 a finger-bowl before. 
 
 On the day before Mary Fitzgerald's dinner 
 party, Patrick received the packet of the Fty- 
 Away Mines shares from Eleanor. A little note, 
 very formally written, accompanied it. It ran:
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 255 
 
 DEAR SIR, I am under the impression that these 
 shares belong to you. My father cannot speak yet, nor 
 can he write; and the chances are that he never will do 
 either. Later, a clearer explanation of the unconscious 
 wrong my father has done you may be forthcoming. At 
 present I can only return to you the mere symbols of 
 what was yours. I have retained some money which, 
 they tell me, belonged to my mother until I can begin 
 to repay you in earnest. In sending you the packet, I 
 merely want to show you that I have a desire to undo 
 what has been inadvertently done. 
 Yours sincerely, 
 
 ELEANOR KEDWOOD. 
 
 Desmond looked at the packet and read and 
 re-read the note. At first he did not understand 
 the meaning of it. And then his mother's words 
 came back to him, the words uttered in expla- 
 nation of the unfortunate letter which had out- 
 lived Mrs. Redwood, and which was responsible 
 for Eleanor's present action. Patrick examined 
 the shares, representing over two hundred thou- 
 sand dollars, transferred to him with every neces- 
 sary and unnecessary legal precaution. He had 
 read with intense interest all the newspaper 
 accounts of the Fly-Away Mines disaster; he 
 knew that those shares of stock were worth 
 almost nothing, but this did not lessen in his eyes 
 the nobility of Eleanor's action. Smaller-minded 
 people might have called it a cheap kind of resti- 
 tution, but Desmond understood it better than
 
 256 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 such minds could. He looked long at the few 
 words she had written ; they were very precious 
 to him. How gracious, how dignified, how noble 
 she was, how much more gracious and noble 
 now in her poverty than when she had been the 
 comparatively rich Miss Redwood, of Redwood. 
 His heart melted at the thought of her, perhaps 
 deserted by her friends, perhaps in agony of 
 spirit over the future. His mother must absolve 
 him from his promise ; his mother would see now 
 that Eleanor had no champion but him against the 
 world. He compared the life around him with 
 the ideal life of love-lightened poverty he might 
 lead with Eleanor Redwood as his wife. She was 
 not a Catholic, it was true ; but she was one of 
 those who slip into the Church, and find they are 
 almost naturally part of it. She would be a 
 Catholic, and never remember that she had been 
 anything else. 
 
 He stood at twilight in the little room of the 
 hotel a very carelessly kept and cheap one, 
 where the Galligans had placed him ; he stood in 
 the twilight, and lost himself in this dream. Sud- 
 denly a thought passed through his mind, like a 
 flash revealing the unreality of it all. It was 
 borne in upon him that his mother would say only 
 a few words when he should tell her of Eleanor's 
 act, but these words would cut him as a sword. 
 She would say that Eleanor was insane, as her
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 257 
 
 mother had been. He realized that, for the first 
 time in his life, he was not sure of his mother's 
 sympathy. He lit the gas with a sigh, and exam- 
 ined the certificates carefully ; and he realized 
 that if the Fly-Away Mines had not been flooded, 
 he would now be in legal possession of two hun- 
 dred thousand dollars. He drew a deep breath 
 and his color came and went. What strength, 
 what power would have been his. The hopes, 
 the desires, of his later life were in his grasp ; but 
 these were as worthless as withered leaves, yet 
 not as worthless, since truth and honor were rep- 
 resented by them.
 
 258 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 XX. 
 
 A trifle ? there are no trifles in life. Do you call the pebble 
 that lames the horse and makes the difference between life 
 and death a trifle ? MAKKSTBIN. 
 
 WITH all her tolerance, Mary Fitzgerald did 
 her sister-in-law injustice in her thoughts. It 
 seemed to her that if Miles had married a higher 
 type of woman, he might have developed all those 
 good qualities which she believed existed in him. 
 But the truth was the reverse of this. If Nellie 
 had married -a man who was her superior, she 
 would not only have kept pace with him, but 
 doubtless gone before him in time. Nevertheless, 
 Mary, in her thoughts, was prone to throw the 
 burden of Miles' sins on the temperament and 
 lack of training of his wife. 
 
 Women, as a rule, are not only better but 
 cleverer than men ; and Nellie, though she was 
 not at all shocked by Miles' smaller dishonesties, 
 would have shrunk with horror from anything 
 she believed to be a great sin. She had the won- 
 derful adaptability of her race, with that tendency 
 toward the acquirement of good taste which is 
 a peculiar quality of American women. She was 
 inclined to laugh or to sneer at any new thing 
 adopted by people whom she regarded as in her 
 own station of life ; but let her once see this 
 new thing, in manners, or speech, or ornament, in
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 259 
 
 the possession of those whom she in her heart re- 
 garded as above her, and she immediately adopted 
 it as her own. She might recall the days when 
 Mary Fitzgerald was " only a school teacher " ; 
 but still she held Mary in high respect as a 
 social luminary, and she was very willing to im- 
 itate her, provided that Mary should not know it. 
 
 The days preceding the Fitzgerald dinner 
 party were very delightful to Nellie. She made 
 a pilgrimage down to Lize Smith's, in order to talk 
 about the Baroness. She kept her unfortunate 
 dressmaker on the rack, and the occupants of the 
 adjoining flats wished that " Comrades," and 
 " Only a Violet," had never been invented; for, 
 we must remember, she had the courage of a 
 sincere conviction of the greatness of her vocal 
 abilities and the perfection of Professor Fortes- 
 cue's method. 
 
 It seems hard to understand how deeply a very 
 simple social function can be made to agitate 
 many people not immediately concerned in it. 
 Lize Smith and all the Smith connections were 
 deeply moved by the entrance of Nellie into 
 society as the chaperon of a baroness. And young 
 Grogan actually composed a song on the subject, 
 which was warbled with great effect in Miles' 
 district, to the accompaniment of the accordion. 
 
 The Bayards at Redwood were anxious about 
 the outcome of the dinner ; for was not the Baron-
 
 260 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 ess to have her chance of capturing the suscep- 
 tible and simple Desmond and the mining stock? 
 Miles was somewhat agitated, too ; for, though he 
 disliked Arthur Fitzgerald, he knew that he was 
 gaining influence in important places ; and, as he 
 was not too sure of his political " pull " for the 
 next session, he felt that it would be well to ar- 
 range something pleasant into which he might 
 fall, something to which a man might be nom- 
 inated by influence, not elected by votes. 
 
 Desmond was seriously unhappy during these 
 days. In the first place, he was homesick ; in the 
 second, he was horrified by the cynical dishonesty 
 of Miles and most of his associates ; he felt that 
 he must cut loose from an employment which was 
 likely to make him an accessory in what seemed 
 to Miles " legitimate " dishonesty. In the third 
 place, he wanted very much to see Eleanor Red- 
 wood. She was in affliction ; she had lately per- 
 formed an act of restitution which made him 
 regard her as the most noble of women ; and yet 
 he could not go near her without his mother's 
 permission, for he had given his word. In the 
 fourth place, Nellie was badgering him about the 
 Fitzgerald dinner party ; she gave him lessons in 
 etiquette in season and out of season ; she declared 
 that he must have an evening suit. Patrick re- 
 belled at this ; he said that he could not afford 
 such a luxury.
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 261 
 
 "My coat was good enough at Judge Red- 
 wood's the best house in our town," he said ; 
 " and it will have to do." 
 
 " Good gracious ! " cried Nellie. " How can 
 you compare a country party with a dinner at my 
 brother-in-law's? And what will the Baroness 
 think of you ? " 
 
 " I don't care," Patrick said. " Scarcely any- 
 body at home wears those old-fashioned, claw- 
 hammer coats in the evening, and I don't think 
 Redwood is much behind in the fashion." 
 
 Nellie raised her hands in horror. " You'll 
 spoil the looks of the table, that's all ; and make 
 me ashamed to tell people that you are my 
 cousin." 
 
 " I can't help it, I'll stay at home, then," 
 he replied, obstinately. " Besides, I can't afford it." 
 
 " Miles will get it for you on credit," Nellie 
 went on, brightening ; " and you can't imagine 
 how well you'll look in it." 
 
 But Patrick was obdurate. The thought of 
 getting anything on credit a very familiar one 
 to Nellie filled him with disgust. Like a wise 
 woman, she discovered that the inevitable must 
 be accepted. Her cousin would have to go as the 
 young man from the country ; and Nellie rehearsed 
 in her mind the half-sympathetic, half-amused 
 attitude she would take toward him. He heartily 
 wished it were over. It is probable that he would
 
 262 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 have refused to go, had he not been drawn to 
 Arthur Fitzgerald at his first meeting, and anxious 
 to find out whether New York was entirely made 
 up of political cormorants, pretentious vulgarians, 
 and folk of the Jim Smith and Grogan types. 
 
 The Fitzgeralds had not escaped a slight do- 
 mestic ripple over the question of wine. Mary, 
 after some thought, had again timidly suggested 
 that, in view of Miles' habits, perhaps it would 
 be well not to have any wine at the table. But 
 Arthur, who was tractable on all other subjects, 
 almost lost his temper. 
 
 " I am obliged to receive Miles as cordially as 
 possible, because he is your brother; but you 
 know, Mary, I can't be expected to inconvenience 
 myself and all my guests simply because he is 
 inclined to make a hog of himself." 
 
 He regretted these words the moment he had 
 uttered them; he knew that he was somewhat 
 jealous of Miles, and this knowledge made it all 
 the more difficult for him to admit that he had 
 been rude about him. It would have exasperated 
 any man to see a woman like Mary overlooking 
 his perfections, or taking them as a matter of 
 course, in order to burn incense and drop tears 
 before a hideous idol like Miles. And, to make 
 things worse, Mary actually cried. For almost 
 the first time in their married life Arthur had 
 been unpleasant, and about such a little thing.
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 263 
 
 Why, when so much was at stake, should he in- 
 sist on such a trifle ? Lemonade was an eminently 
 respectable and safe drink ; and if there were 
 only lemonade on the table, or some nice mineral 
 water, Miles would be safe for one evening at 
 least. The consequence of this was that Arthur 
 went down to his office in a discontented mood ; 
 and Mary, who could condone the gravest of 
 Miles' offences, felt that her husband had failed 
 her at a supreme moment. 
 
 Probably the only person who looked forward 
 to the dinner party with real satisfaction was the 
 Baroness. She had come to that time of life when 
 a good dinner, with all the luxuries of lights and 
 flowers, is a matter for rejoicing ; and good dinners 
 were not common now in her experience, although 
 she was a baroness. And so she mended her frip- 
 peries and made her train more imposing, with a 
 certain feeling of pleasant expectation. 
 
 Mary had spared no pains to make Nellie feel 
 that the dinner was better than anything hitherto 
 done in the Fitzgerald household. And when 
 Mr. and Mrs. Miles Galligan, the Baroness von 
 Homburg, and Patrick Desmond arrived, they 
 found the drawing-room decorated with palms and 
 glowing with the light of a dozen red-shaded 
 lamps. Mary, clothed in soft gray, with a few 
 red roses at her belt, welcomed the obnoxious 
 guests with a gentle warmth that caused Arthur
 
 264 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 to wish that he had made the dinner table a lagoon 
 of mineral water and lemonade. After all, who 
 could be so gentle and tender as Mary? Her 
 every movement had a grace and distinction which 
 the highest breeding could not give ; it came 
 from habitual kindness and courtesy of ^nought. 
 And Arthur, appreciating this, resolved to make 
 amends for his rejection of the eminently respect- 
 able lemonade by being as polite to Miles as he 
 possibly could. He found it easy enough to re- 
 ceive Desmond cordially ; there was a frankness 
 and lucidity about the latter that attracted other 
 good men. 
 
 While Nellie was apologizing in whispers to the 
 Baroness for the absence of the dress suit which 
 Desmond ought to have worn, and fancying that 
 it was the subject of everybody's thoughts, Mary 
 YV as looking at him and making up her mind that 
 he had a good mother ; Arthur was thinking of 
 his evident honesty, and the Baroness concluding 
 that he was handsome, but too ignorant to know 
 that a title was worth anything. Nellie, if 
 Patrick's frock-coat could have been blotted from 
 her mind, would have been satisfied for the mo- 
 ment. Her red velvet gown, with a pink and 
 silver front, and a train to match, was much finer 
 than the Baroness' blue brocade ; and Miles, in a 
 new evening suit, with a large red rose in his 
 lapel, and a cluster of diamonds on a much-
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 265 
 
 embroidered shirt front, contented her aesthetic 
 sense. His face was somewhat redder than an 
 artist would have considered natural, and he 
 certainly was growing stout, so stout that he 
 had acquired a " presence " ; and his eyes, accord- 
 ing to some of his brilliant friends, had " a double 
 chin " around them. Looking at him, Nellie felt 
 that the Galligans were on the crest of the wave. 
 
 When Father Jackson came in, Nellie suddenly 
 elevated her fan and blushed. Her frock was not 
 nearly so low in the neck as that of the Baroness, 
 who was entirely unembarrassed. Father Jackson 
 looked somewhat surprised, as Nellie was com- 
 pelled to lower her fan in order to shake hands 
 with him. He was not prudish by any means ; 
 but he asked Mary Fitzgerald in an audible voice, 
 which made Nellie furious, whether the ladies 
 were Catholics. Nellie afterward said that priests 
 ought to be taught in seminaries something about 
 the customs of fashionable society. Since she 
 had become a politician Nellie was very critical 
 about priests. 
 
 Father Jackson was young and clever, at once 
 intelligent and sympathetic, with an air of de- 
 tachment from the world, and yet with an evident 
 knowledge of its dangers. He was tall and slight, 
 with a suspicion of delicacy in his looks that 
 forced everybody to wonder at his energy. Earn- 
 estness and enthusiasm seemed to supply the
 
 266 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 place of physical strength. His qualities and 
 manner were typical of the younger priests of 
 New York ; and Arthur often thanked God in 
 his heart that there were many priests in his 
 native city of the metal that made his friend, 
 Father Jackson, so attractive and valuable. 
 
 Desmond's heart warmed toward Father Jack- 
 son at once ; and he felt a subtle sympathy with 
 Arthur Fitzgerald, too, a sympathy which only 
 the pure in heart feel for one another, and which 
 is very different from that which arises from a 
 coincidence of intellectual tastes. Desmond felt 
 that, knowing Jack C onion as he did, he had the 
 key to Father Jackson's character.
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATEICK DESMOND. 267 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Into all our lives comes eA'ery year some event which, put 
 into a novel, would seem utterly improbable. 
 
 " Paradoxes of a Philosopher." 
 
 THE atmosphere of the Fitzgeralds' dinner was 
 different from that of Eleanor Redwood's Coffee ; 
 but, in spite of all those pretty devices with which 
 a careful hostess makes a dinner both stately and 
 graceful or, rather, because of them Patrick 
 enjoyed himself. The Baroness, who sat next to 
 him, annoyed him a little at first ; he soon under- 
 stood, however, that she intended to be amiable, 
 although her " society " jargon was without much 
 meaning to him. He thought it was very kind of 
 her to insist on pinning the rosebud he found in 
 his napkin to the lapel of his coat. This little 
 rnanosuvre did not escape Miles, who winked at 
 Nellie ; and Patrick, catching this telegraphic sig- 
 nal, felt that he had made some mistake. The 
 possibility of having made a mistake in a matter 
 of form did not seem such an awful thing in New 
 York as it had seemed at Redwood. Mary's gentle 
 face was a guarantee of tolerance ; and during all 
 the various courses Desmond was entirely at ease ; 
 for nobody could fail to understand that her main 
 object was that everybody should be happy for the 
 moment, and that the lights and the flowers and
 
 268 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 all the accessories which civilization has invented 
 in order to elevate eating into an art, were merely 
 second to this object. 
 
 The Baroness herself, who was a direct contrast 
 to Desmond in most things, lost for the time her 
 cynicism ; and, as she glanced from the Fitzgeralds 
 to Father Jackson, she began to be almost per- 
 suaded that there were good people in the 
 world. She said to herself that if she had four or 
 five thousand a year, she, too, could exercise all 
 the virtues ; but as she looked at the priest again 
 and heard him speak, she recognized that the 
 goodness that shone in his face was not dependent 
 on so many thousand a year. Still, she was dif- 
 ferent from these people ; their goodness must be 
 in the blood. As the dinner proceeded she became 
 more and more amiable to Desmond. After all, 
 the Bayards were clever ; and no doubt the best 
 way of getting rid of the music pupils would be 
 to follow their lead. To the delight of Nellie, she 
 took a leading part in the conversation, and re- 
 lated the most brilliant anecdotes about everybody 
 in society. 
 
 " I find it so difficult to found a salon in New 
 York. One can find brilliant men, but the women 
 are so difficult," she observed, with a sigh. 
 
 " What's that, ma'am ? " asked Miles, awakening 
 from a sulky reverie, occasioned by the evident 
 intention of his brother-in-law not to serve cham-
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 269 
 
 pagne. Both Miles and Nellie considered this a 
 new " slight," and were determined to make Mary- 
 suffer for it. The Baroness repeated her remark. 
 Miles laughed. 
 
 " Saloons ! " he said. " There are more saloons 
 in New York now than you can shake a stick at. 
 If you want to start a saloon, ma'am and you 
 might do worse, you've only to pay your license 
 and go in." 
 
 The Baroness put her napkin to her mouth. 
 And Nellie, feeling that Miles had gone wrong 
 somehow, looked Arthur Fitzgerald full in the 
 eyes with the intention of promptly avenging the 
 ghost of a smile. There was none, however ; and 
 Mary, on whose heart Miles' sixth glass of claret 
 was making a scar, did not notice the lapse. The 
 Baroness, later, made a capital story out of it. 
 Nellie's face flushed as she caught that lady's 
 giggle behind her napkin, and she resolved that 
 this impudence should not go unpunished ; and 
 Nellie seldom made a vain resolution. 
 
 Mary was pleased with Desmond from the first ; 
 to Arthur's disgust he actually drank water 
 through the dinner, but this only raised him in 
 her estimation. In answer to Father Jackson 
 Arthur announced his intention of going to Eagles- 
 cliff. 
 
 " Eaglescliff ? " asked Desmond. " That is r-ar 
 Redwood."
 
 270 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 "So I believe," said Fitzgerald. "I don't care 
 to undertake the journey, but a client of mine is 
 interested in the Fly- A way stock." 
 
 The Baroness raised her head. 
 
 " The Fly- A way Mines ! " exclaimed Desmond, 
 speaking with an energy which was accentuated 
 by his previous silence. " I, too, am interested, 
 Mr. Fitzgerald, exceedingly interested ; and if 
 you will permit me to say a few words to you on 
 business " 
 
 " Certainly. In the study, when we have our 
 cigars," answered Fitzgerald, wondering at the 
 young man's earnestness. 
 
 Desmond thanked him. 
 
 " Redwood ? " repeated Mary. " Did not some- 
 body mention the name of Redwood ? " 
 
 "I did," observed Desmond. 
 
 " I met a young woman of that name yesterday," 
 said Mary ; "a very nice person." 
 
 "Was it Eleanor?" cried Desmond. "But it 
 could not have been Eleanor I mean Miss Red- 
 wood," he added, letting his voice fall. 
 
 " Mrs. Fitzgerald met Miss Redwood at our 
 house," said Father Jackson. " And if you know 
 her, you will be glad to hear that, although a 
 stranger in the city and a Protestant, she came 
 first to St. Anselm's. The rector sent me down to 
 see her, and Mrs. Fitzgerald happened to be in 
 the parlor."
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 271 
 
 Desmond's eyes shone like stars. " Miss Red- 
 wood here here in New York." 
 
 Then the light went out of them : he remem- 
 bered his promise to his mother. The meaning 
 of his thoughts seemed plain to everybody present, 
 and the Baroness concluded that she need not 
 trouble herself to be agreeable to him ; henceforth 
 she gave all her attention to a very delicious ice. 
 A little later she heard Nellie ask Desmond if he 
 did not find the " dear Baroness " very sweet. 
 
 " Yes of course," Patrick answered, absent- 
 mindedly. " She has a kind, motherly way." 
 
 Nellie had her revenge, for the Baroness was 
 informed by that remark that her little arts had 
 failed; and Nellie let her know by a peculiarly 
 artificial smile that she, too, was aware of it. 
 
 When the ladies had gone, Arthur asked Des- 
 mond : " To what extent are you interested in 
 the Fly- A way Mines ? " 
 
 " I have a lot of the stock, that is " 
 
 Arthur interrupted him excitedly. " Then 
 you are fortunate ! This telegram came just 
 before dinner." 
 
 Patrick read the words on the yellow slip with 
 dazzled eyes : 
 
 " Fly -Away Mines in good condition. Examiners have 
 found a new and immense bed of coal. Come.' 1 
 
 " What does it mean ? " he asked.
 
 272 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 " Mean ! " exclaimed Arthur. " You had better 
 go down to Eaglescliff and find out. It means 
 that every share in the Fly- A way Mines is worth 
 a hundred per cent, more than before the flood." 
 
 Desmond's brain seemed to turn. His dream 
 was realized ; he had succeeded by no effort of his 
 own ; he was wealthy. 
 
 There was music in the drawing-room. Arthur 
 smoked his cigar in silence, watching Desmond's 
 face. The sound of the piano above mingled with 
 the gentle snore from the corner of the table, 
 where Miles had fallen asleep. Nellie's voice 
 could be heard in the inevitable 
 
 " Only a violet, dawling, 
 Only a violet blu-oo." 
 
 Arthur looked from Desmond's face to Miles', 
 and he was struck by the contrast between the 
 two. Desmond's was clear, healthy, capable of 
 nobility, although a dark cloud rested on it at this 
 moment ; Miles', stupid, narrow, animalized, a 
 very different face from that of the young Miles 
 whom Arthur had known at school. Arthur 
 looked at the lines traced on the brow and around 
 the eyes, and shuddered. Tt was a relief to turn 
 his eyes to Desmond ; he asked whether this frank, 
 bright face could ever come to be as terrible an 
 index of selfishness and sin, as Miles' face was. 
 A.nd yet, in Arthur's remembrance, Miles' face
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 273 
 
 had been as frank and as honest, if not as hand- 
 some, as Desmond's. 
 
 The voice above became louder. Desmond did 
 not speak ; his social education had not reached 
 that point where a man speaks often principally 
 because he has nothing to say. His brain was in 
 a whirl. Arthur, whose cigar always consoled 
 him for silence on the part of other people, hoped 
 that Nellie would soon cease her screams. The 
 last refrain of " Only a Violet " died away. It 
 was succeeded by a rattling Wagnerian march by 
 the Baroness, and still Desmond did not speak. 
 
 Arthur wished Maiy had not insisted on carry- 
 ing Father Jackson into the drawing-room. He 
 was anxious not to appear curious about Des- 
 mond's connection with the Fly-Away Mines ; he 
 could not think of anything else appropriate to the 
 occasion ; and Miles' snore irritated him almost as 
 much as Nellie's singing. Father Jackson knew 
 how to enliven people ; things always went well 
 when he was about. Arthur's cigar was not as 
 great a comfort as usual. The flowers on the 
 table had begun to droop, and the candles to flare. 
 Arthur turned his eyes toward Miles, with the 
 intention of shaking him if he did not awake in 
 a few minutes. For the first time he noticed a 
 dark flush on his brother-in-law's cheeks ; it was 
 not a natural color. He tapped Desmond on the 
 shoulder and asked : " Is he well ? "
 
 274 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 The young man gazed at Fitzgerald as if he had 
 been awakened from sleep. " Well ? Who ? " 
 
 " Oh ! Miles Galligan, of course, " Arthur said, 
 impatiently. " He looks bad to-night. His wife 
 would do better if she would take him home, in- 
 stead of bawling upstairs." 
 
 Desmond looked at him in surprise ; this was 
 not the elegant manner he had expected, from 
 Nellie's description of Arthur. 
 
 "I suppose I seem rude," Arthur went on, 
 apologetically. " You must pardon me. But the 
 look on that man's face startled me. The blood 
 is all in his head. He has drunk too much." 
 
 " But I saw you offering him wine very often," 
 said Desmond, with a frankness that startled 
 Arthur, but gave him no offence. 
 
 " I didn't think the fellow was a brute. He'll 
 die of apoplexy or something. Listen to that 
 snore. He must have been drinking before he 
 came here." 
 
 " Probably," said Desmond. " People in poli- 
 tics must drink. Shall I awaken him ? " 
 
 Miles was awakened with some difficulty. He 
 asked for a little whiskey, and got it; for Fitz- 
 gerald was one of those hosts who would allow a 
 man to have delirium tremens at his table rather 
 than appear inhospitable. 
 
 Just at this moment Father Jackson appeared, 
 sent by Mrs. Fitzgerald for the men. Miles
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 275 
 
 grasped the decanter and was about to refuse to 
 go ; but Father Jackson, with a smile that gilded 
 a great deal of firmness, took his arm and led him 
 up to the drawing-room. 
 
 " I'm afraid the ladies will not excuse us 
 longer," Fitzgerald said to Desmond ; " and we 
 shall have to postpone our talk in the study until 
 another time. Can I be of any use to you ? " 
 
 Desmond stopped him at the foot of the stairs. 
 " Did you really mean what you said about the 
 Fly-Away Mines being much more valuable than 
 they were before the accident to them ? " 
 
 " Yes," replied Fitzgerald. 
 
 " Will you let me go to Eaglescliff with you ? " 
 
 " Certainly if you can get Mr. Galligan's per- 
 mission." 
 
 " Oh ! Mr. Galligan and I are out. His kind of 
 politics is not in my line," said Desmond. " It 
 may be all right, but I couldn't go about feeling 
 that I could not respect myself even for money." 
 
 Fitzgerald looked at him curiously, and then 
 spoke, with a feeling of confidence in the frank 
 young man : 
 
 " Although Galligan is my brother-in-law, I am 
 glad that you will cut loose from him. But let 
 me tell you that politics are made bad by the men 
 that follow them for money. A good man who 
 does not make money a god may be a politician. 
 People who say that a man in politics must be bad 
 lie for their own purposes."
 
 276 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICE: DESMOND. 
 
 "You are probably right," observed Desmond. 
 " But a man that resists the power of money in 
 our day must be both great and good ; and to 
 resist it means to accomplish more good than 
 money can do." 
 
 " Halloo ! " said Arthur, with new interest. 
 " You evidently believe, with Cardinal Manning, 
 that it is better to choose poverty and faith rather 
 than money and error. But have you been 
 tempted ? " 
 
 " Oh ! yes, " said Desmond, flushing. 
 
 " And have you resisted ? " 
 
 "I don't know. I am just thinking about it 
 now." 
 
 Mary's voice was heard at the top of the stairs ; 
 and Arthur and Patrick, adjured by it to delay no 
 longer, ascended. Desmond went to a sofa in the 
 corner, where, at the end of another musical fusil- 
 lade by the Baroness, he was joined by Father 
 Jackson. 
 
 " You spoke about Miss Redwood," he said to 
 the priest. " I am astonished to hear that she is 
 in the city. I inferred from a letter I had from 
 her yesterday that she was still at Redwood." 
 
 " She came in for a day or two. It seems she is 
 about to settle in New York with her father." 
 
 Desmond started. How strange it seemed. 
 How could he ever amagine her as apart from her 
 old surroundings ?
 
 TUE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 277 
 
 " It seems that she found Father Rodnor's ad- 
 dress among her mother's papers Father Rodnor 
 lias been the pastor of St. Anselm's ever since it 
 was built, back in the fifties and, knowing no- 
 body else, she came to him for information about 
 the city. I found her very interesting; and she 
 delighted me by saying that she had come because 
 she believed that she could trust priests more than 
 other people in a large city, because the priest at 
 Redwood seemed to have only one object to make 
 his people good. She must have known some ex- 
 emplar}' Catholics," added Father Jackson, looking 
 at Desmond with a smile. 
 
 " I am so glad you like her," said Desmond, not 
 noticing the smile. " I wish she would become a 
 Catholic." 
 
 " For your sake or her own ? " asked Father 
 Jackson, with a touch of malice. Desmond was 
 silent, and Father Jackson went on t " Father 
 Rodnor was ill when she came, and he sent me 
 down. But he has a wonderful memory for 
 names ; and I had not been talking to her for five 
 minutes when he sent a letter to me written by 
 Miss Redwood's mother, from which it appeared 
 that, after years of carelessness, she had come to 
 New York and been reconciled to the Church. 
 In this letter she asked Father Rodnor to tell her 
 how best to go about making the fact of her 
 return to the Church public. The young lady
 
 178 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 looked at the date, and said, weeping : ' My mother 
 died the day after this was written. Oh ! I wish 
 I knew more about her Church.' ' 
 
 Desmond listened with all his ears and heart. 
 Every circumstance seemed to be bringing him 
 nearer Eleanor. Nobody but a man accustomed 
 to the most direct intercourse with his fellows 
 would have asked the next question. 
 
 " Was Mrs. Redwood insane at any time ? Did 
 Father Rodnor know ? Excuse the question," he 
 said, as he noticed Father Jackson's hesitation ; 
 " but it is a vital one." 
 
 Father Jackson still hesitated. Before he could 
 reply, Nellie called to him not to talk : she was 
 about to sing " Comrades." And she assumed the 
 proper attitude taught her by Prof. Fortescue, 
 with a photograph of little Miley held pathetically 
 to her heart.
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 279 
 
 XXII. 
 
 A flash of lightning may kill, but it reveals. 
 
 " Paradoxes of a Philosopher." 
 
 DESMOND had no chance to follow up his 
 question. Father Jackson left shortly after 
 Nellie had finished her dramatic recitative ; and 
 then the Baroness, who had now no reason for 
 propitiating the Fitzgeralds, began to yawn be- 
 hind her fan. Miles looked at his watch and 
 said it was time to go. Arthur asked Desmond 
 to call at his office early the next day, and Mary 
 shook hands with him very cordially. 
 
 Once in his little room in the hotel, Desmond 
 thought the situation over. How wonderful it 
 was. His life up to the time he had met Eleanor 
 Redwood had been level, like a prairie ; but from 
 that moment the breath of mountains and the 
 sound of rushing waters had come into it. He 
 had longed with all his heart for riches ; he had 
 dreamed of them. Success to him meant the pos- 
 session of money and nothing more ; he had 
 planned over and over again the means by which 
 he should attain this success, and it had come. 
 He had sometimes an uncomfortable impression 
 that his aims were not sufficiently high, but his 
 self-respect had been restored by disgust he felt at 
 the sight of the machinery by which Miles attained
 
 280 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 what he imagined to be success ; and his opinion 
 of himself had been entirely reestablished. After 
 all, his experience in New York had taught him 
 that he would shrink with all his heart om ill- 
 gotten gains ; and that, much as he valued money, 
 it had no charms for him unless it were clean. 
 He had a higher opinion of himself when he dis- 
 covered beyond doubt that he need fear no temp- 
 tation to be dishonest ; he might be hard and 
 even avaricious, he said to himself, but not 
 dishonest. 
 
 The sudden news about the shares in the Fly- 
 Away Mines had changed the whole aspect of 
 life. If it were true, he was rich beyond his most 
 hopeful expectations. He sat up late, in the 
 sickly light of the unshaded gas jet, in his little 
 room at the Tivoli Hotel, arranging what he would 
 do. He had no intention of taking advantage of 
 Eleanor's action in transferring the shares to him 
 until the whole matter had been thoroughly sifted. 
 He made up his mind to act at once with Arthur 
 Fitzgerald, and to assume the proprietorship of 
 the stock until the question of its real ownership 
 could be decided. 
 
 He knew very well that his mother would insist 
 on his returning the shares to Eleanor, as she 
 would look on the transaction as based entirely on 
 an insane freak of Mrs. Redwood's, not understood 
 by Eleanor. He smiled as he thought that it
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 281 
 
 would make no difference in the end ; for he now 
 felt sure that he should marry Eleanor Redwood. 
 And what was hers would be his. Was he over- 
 confident? He thought not; he did not rebuke 
 himself for egotism or conceit. She had certainly 
 showed an interest in him, and he had not the 
 slightest doubt of his interest in her. But the 
 promise to his mother? He must be absolved from 
 that ; there was too much at stake to let that 
 stand in the way. Rich, and with Eleanor Red- 
 wood for his wife, what more had the world to 
 offer ? He would be great ; he would be powerful ; 
 he would make some of those insolent people at 
 home bite the dust ; he would repay them for their 
 arrogance. In possession of the mightiest of all 
 weapons, he would conquer. If Miles and Nellie 
 only knew, how they would grovel at his feet. 
 He laughed aloud at the thought. It would make 
 a difference to everybody, except, indeed, to his 
 mother, to Jack Conlon, and to Eleanor. He 
 could not imagine Mrs. Fitzgerald or Father Jack- 
 son giving him adulation after he became rich, 
 but he saw a large part of the world at his feet. 
 
 His mother should ride in a carriage and have 
 servants. Here an uncomfortable thought in- 
 truded itself. It occurred to him as probable that 
 his mother would insist on staying just as she was. 
 After all, what could money do for her ? Her 
 desires and her mission would be fulfilled if her
 
 282 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 son were only true to the teachings of his child- 
 hood. He felt a keen pang as he realized that 
 wealth could in no way add to her happiness. 
 
 A new question presented itself : was it gener- 
 ous and manly to consider marriage with Eleanor 
 from a mercenary point of view? He admired, 
 he respected her, yes, he could say that he loved 
 her ; and yet, in spite of this affection, it was the 
 restoration of the Fly-Away Mines which had 
 decided him to propose to her as soon as possible. 
 He answered this by remembering that he would 
 never have dared to speak of marriage to Eleanor 
 until he had an assured income ; and if these 
 shares were really his own, the income was his. 
 She could be, as his wife, the first woman in 
 Redwood. What power, what strength would be 
 his! 
 
 The plans Desmond had entertained of helping 
 to drive off the wolves of degradation and despair 
 from the poor in New York seemed vague and 
 Quixotic now. He thought only of his increased 
 power and consequence in the world, and how he 
 would use them to abase the proud, not to raise 
 up the humble. He was rich, he was rich. He 
 looked out into the street, empty and dimly lit, 
 and said to himself that he was at last happy. 
 Millions all over the world would willingly make 
 terrible sacrifices to be in his place; hundreds 
 would commit murder to feel as he felt. That
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 283 
 
 imposing building across the street, which had 
 before seemed to him such an overpowering 
 symbol of wealth, could be his if he wanted it. 
 All the celebrated people of whom the Baroness 
 had spoken that night would bow down to him if 
 they knew. He was a god, and he believed that 
 all Redwood would greet him as a god. Even 
 Eleanor, who might, in spite of all her good sense, 
 be inclined to look down on Patrick Desmond 
 from her social height, would forget all in the 
 glitter but here his better judgment saved him. 
 He acknowledged to himself that Eleanor Red- 
 wood was above the influence of money. At last, 
 weary and distracted, he went to sleep and dreamed 
 of gold. 
 
 He made the journey to Eaglescliff on the next 
 day with Arthur Fitzgerald, Miles having given a 
 reluctant permission. Arthur found him some- 
 what stupid, for his mind busied itself with all 
 sorts of plans. They did not get off at Redwood, 
 though the train stopped a few minutes, and Des- 
 mond recognized Bayard's face on the platform of 
 the station. 
 
 At this time Arthur Fitzgerald was in the 
 smoking-car, having left his silent companion 
 alone. Bayard boarded the train and took the seat 
 beside Desmond, who shook hands with Bayard 
 rather coldly. Bayard's name was not untarnished, 
 but this had not prevented him from patronizing
 
 284 THE SUCCESS OF PATEICK DESMOND. 
 
 Patrick in days past. Desmond, conscious of his 
 new power, assumed an air of reserve. The time 
 would come, he thought, when Bayard would 
 toady to him. 
 
 " Going to Eaglescliff ? " Bayard asked, with 
 seeming indifference. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " I suppose you met my sister-in-law, Madame 
 von Homburg, in New York." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " An interesting woman ? " 
 
 " No doubt." 
 
 Bayard looked eagerly at Desmond ; his expres- 
 sion did not change. The Baroness had evidently 
 failed in any attempt she might have made to cap- 
 ture Desmond. As the knowledge of this grew in 
 his mind, Bayard became angry against his wife ; 
 she was a fool to imagine that her romantic 
 scheme could succeed. After all, it was a scheme 
 of desperation, a forlorn hope. 
 
 "You are interested in the Fly- A way Mine 
 shares, I believe ? " Bayard went on. 
 
 Desmond turned his face to the window, and 
 was silent. 
 
 " I know you are," said Bayard, quietly. " I 
 know that Miss Redwood transferred a big block 
 of the stock to you." 
 
 Desmond reddened. 
 
 "I know more about the Mines than you do,
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 285 
 
 and," lie said, getting close to Desmond, " if you 
 will make it worth my while, I will give you a 
 point or two which will make you rich." 
 
 " I am rich," replied Desmond, quietly. 
 
 " You think so ? " said Bayard. " Can we make 
 an arrangement ? " 
 
 " No," Desmond answered, looking full into 
 Bayard's face. 
 
 Bayard tore up a telegram he held in his 
 hand. " That," he said, throwing the fragments 
 on the floor, " was a telegram to my sister-in-law, 
 containing an important message for you. If you 
 will agree to make it worth my while, I will give 
 you the message in words." 
 
 "I hold the shares of stock in the Fly-Away 
 Mines iu trust," said Desmond; "and I cannot 
 make any arrangement." 
 
 "Intrust?" repeated Bayard. "In trust for 
 Eleanor Redwood, I suppose," he added, with a 
 sneer. " And yet you say that you are rich, 
 which means, I presume, that you intend to marry 
 Miss Redwood, and acquire the ' trust,' dear, 
 guileless young man ! " 
 
 Desmond turned toward him angrily. Bayard 
 picked up the fragments of the telegraphic mes- 
 sages and threw them out the window. The 
 wind drove them back into the next seat,, Des- 
 mond, angry as he was, noticed this ; Bayard did 
 not.
 
 286 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 " I can help you immensely, if you will let me, " 
 Bayard said. " I think myself that the best way 
 to acquire a sound legal and moral title to those 
 shares would be to marry Miss Redwood. There's 
 no harm in that, after all ; but I didn't think you 
 were so smart." 
 
 Desmond seemed odious to himself, as Bayard 
 made this sketch of his intentions. 
 
 " They're yours, of course," Bayard continued; 
 "I helped to transfer them. But if you think 
 that you hold them in trust, it's a different mat- 
 ter. If Eleanor Redwood should not be willing 
 to marry an Irish papist, you will be in a difficult 
 position. In that case you'll transfer the shares 
 to her." 
 
 Desmond half-rose from his seat, but Bayard 
 went away quickly. It was well he did, for Des- 
 mond's wrath was great; the truth in the sneer 
 had struck home. In a few words this scheming 
 creature seemed to have pulled him down to his 
 own level. He could not deny the truth : he did 
 not consider the shares his own, and he was cal- 
 culating on his marriage with Eleanor Redwood 
 to make them his own. His mother had bade him 
 look on marriage as pure and holy, and his 
 religion taught him that it was a sacrament. His 
 mother, through all her trials, had preserved the 
 memory of her married life with a tender senti- 
 ment, which affected the views of her son in
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 287 
 
 regard to marriage. She lived only that she 
 might make her son serve God, and that she 
 might rejoin in Heaven the beloved husband of 
 her youth. His mother's ideal of marriage was 
 her son's, and he suddenly felt like an outcast 
 when he saw his picture as Bayard's few words 
 had drawn it. 
 
 Arthur Fitzgerald joined him, having been 
 refreshed by a nap and several cigars. He found 
 Desmond more uncompanionable than ever ; and, 
 looking around for occupation, he picked up the 
 shreds of the telegram Bayard had torn up. He 
 untwisted them mechanically. 
 
 "Halloo!" he said. "What's this?" He 
 smoothed out the bits of yellow paper carefully, 
 and read : 
 
 " If interested in Desmond, have him sell Fly-Away 
 Mine. 
 
 H. BAYARD." 
 
 There was no address. Patrick knew to whom 
 it had been directed. To Fitzgerald's surprise, 
 he wakened up suddenly and told him the story 
 of the transfer of the shares and his interview 
 with Bayard. 
 
 Fitzgerald looked grave. " Bayard is con- 
 sidered to be an expert in these matter. . We 
 must look into this. My duty to my client 
 requires it."
 
 288 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 " And my duty to Miss Redwood. I am con- 
 vinced that I hold her shares only in trust." 
 
 " No doubt," assented Arthur. " The transfer 
 was the work of an impetuous young woman in 
 he checked himself ; but added, with a smile : " I 
 see now why you resisted the fascinations of the 
 Baroness." 
 
 Desmond's lips closed tightly. Fitzgerald said 
 to himself that he had been mistaken in this frank- 
 looking young man ; he was a " crank " ; bits of 
 " airy persiflage " were entirely lost on him. 
 
 Bayard passed them as they stepped on the 
 platform of the Eaglescliff station. He whispered 
 to Desmond : " Can we make an arrangement ? 
 It's your last chance." 
 
 " We have concluded to sell if your advice 
 is corroborated," Fitzgerald said, quickly. He 
 put the fragments of the telegram into Bayard's 
 hand and passed on. 
 
 Bayard turned, aghast ; he had nothing to sell 
 Desmond now. He and Laura must look out for 
 another investment for their wits. And at that 
 moment he regretted sincerely, though he hated 
 Desmond, that he could not look out into the 
 world with his honest eyes. 
 
 It was too late for business in Eaglescliff. All 
 the offices were closed. There were only a few 
 sleepy loungers about the hotel ; and Fitzgerald, 
 though wildly impatient, could not pick up any 
 points about the Mines.
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 289 
 
 Desmond went to his room. Bayard had opened 
 his eyes. He despised himself; he resolved that 
 he would make Eleanor rich if possible, but that 
 he would never ask her to marry him. How 
 could he, even for a moment, have built hopes on 
 wealth that never could be his, except at the cost 
 of his self-respect.
 
 290 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 We expect wisdom of God, sympathy of humanity, and 
 direction from God in man. "Golden Words." 
 
 IN spite of all her counsellors at Redwood, 
 Eleanor had clung to her determination to go to 
 New York. It seemed to her that any change 
 would be for the better. She and her father 
 would be away from pitying eyes; and at this 
 time Eleanor felt that she could endure anything 
 better than pity. She had splendid but vague 
 hopes of attaining a mastery of the art she loved, 
 and of being independent, through the work of 
 her own hands, of all the world. She had 
 explained all the circumstances to Belinda, and 
 a stormy scene had ensued. Belinda could not 
 imagine the Judge or Eleanor in any atmosphere 
 but that of Redwood. It was not until Eleanor 
 had made a flying trip to New York and returned 
 that Belinda reached the conclusion that her duty 
 lay among the outside barbarians. She had con- 
 sulted Mr. Stokes, and he had little to say, except 
 that it was a question for her conscience to settle. 
 
 "Conscience!" cried Belinda. "What's the 
 use of talking about a conscience that wabbles? 
 My conscience is like quicksilver, now I think 
 I have a grip on it, and then I haven't. I wish 
 somebody would catch it for me. And the more
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 291 
 
 I search the Scriptures, the less I know what I 
 ought to do. I know Eleanor Redwood's making 
 a foolish journey to New York; and I sometimes 
 think that it ain't right for me to aid or abet her 
 going, by letting her know I'd go under any 
 circumstances. But I hate to think of those two 
 perishing just for want of gumption in the modern 
 Babylon, in need of somebody like me." 
 
 Mr. Stokes adjusted his blue necktie and sighed. 
 The conversation took place in the parlor of the 
 Baptist church, after the morning service. Mr. 
 Stokes was feeling rather disconsolate; he had 
 given up all thoughts of the ministry, and he was 
 waiting to give his decision to the minister. This 
 was on the Sunday after Eleanor's return from 
 New York, and while Arthur Fitzgerald and 
 Desmond were at Eaglescliff, working hard to 
 dissipate the various obscurities which hung 
 around the condition of the Fly-Away Mines. 
 
 Mr. Stokes was as unhappy as Belinda, and as 
 greatly in doubt. He knew very well that, after 
 the confession he had made to her, his opinion on 
 any subject would not be worth much. Mr. 
 Stokes had represented religion to Belinda for 
 some time, and a form of religion which she could 
 patronize and encourage, and feed with all the 
 triumphs of her cookery. To have helped to 
 make a minister would have given a halo to all 
 her years, and she resented Mr. Stokes' weakness
 
 292 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 in declining to let her have this great privilege. 
 But her own experience in the last few days had 
 made her feel that there might really be conscien- 
 tious scruples which could add new burdens to 
 life. And the powerlessness of Mr. Stokes to 
 help her solve her problem added to her resent- 
 ment. She understood, to a limited degree, his 
 hesitation to accept the Baptist religious opinions; 
 and yet shefelt irritated against him because, with 
 all his theological learning, he could not help her. 
 Her duty was not plain. She did not want to go 
 to New York. She admired the Judge, and she 
 had a certain regard for Eleanor; but Redwood 
 was her home, her paradise; and her feelings for 
 the Judge and his daughter were slight compared 
 to the dread she had of uprooting herself from 
 Eedwood. 
 
 If her conscience were not in the way, Belinda 
 would joyfully have done her best for the 
 Redwoods, and stayed at home, after their depart- 
 ure, with a joyful heart. But an awful fear 
 oppressed her; and, as the minister had gone home 
 before Mr. Stokes could buttonhole him, she 
 walked through the streets with that young man, 
 trying to make up her mind to unfold it to him. 
 She felt that she must speak or die. In all her 
 travail of soul, however, she did not fail to scent 
 with tender sentiment, the aroma of the Sunday 
 dinners, which came from various houses they
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 293 
 
 passed. A primrose by the river's brim had no 
 special associations for Belinda; a wild rose from 
 the haunts of her childhood would not have drawn 
 a tear from her under any circumstances; but the 
 sweetness of roast beef, with the accompanying 
 vision of baked potatoes, brought a lump into her 
 throat, it might be the last day on which this 
 dulcet odor, so characteristic of a well-ordered 
 Sunday at Redwood, would greet her nostrils. 
 
 "I just know how papists feel when they want 
 to confess to their priests," she said almost 
 viciously. "I've got something on my mind, and 
 I'd like to get rid of it; but I don't know as it 
 would do any good to tell you, seeing that you 
 haven't either been called or chosen." 
 
 Mr. Stokes sighed. "There's a great deal to 
 be said on the Romanist side," he observed. "In 
 fact, there's a great deal to be said on every side, 
 that's the trouble." 
 
 "Oh! of course," sneered Belinda, who having 
 discovered that her idol was clay, now felt a 
 certain pleasure in jumping on its toes. "You 
 haven't backbone enough to take the Bible and 
 the good old doctrine just as it is. You can't be 
 satisfied unless you have a lot of pagans in heaven 
 with you. For my part, I can do without 'em. 
 But, then," she added, with sudden humility, 
 "I'm only a woman; I don't count." 
 
 Mr. Stokes said nothing. They walked slowly
 
 294 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 under the elms that lined the streets, past the 
 homelike houses, big and little. Belinda's grim- 
 ness was accented by her gloomy state of mind, 
 a stately black bonnet adorned with a bunch of 
 large green grapes, a black bombazine gown, and 
 a purple parasol which she carried as if it were a 
 sceptre. Mr. Stokes seemed more limp than 
 usual; he looked as if the only objects on earth 
 of interest were his blue necktie and the hyacin- 
 thine curl trained upon his brow. It would have 
 been unkind to form such a conclusion, however; 
 for Mr. Stokes was really engaged in trying to 
 feel like a man before Belinda's sneer. 
 
 "I suppose I may as well tell you," Belinda 
 said, disarmed by his silence. "I am not needed 
 at home just now, there's a cold dinner; and 
 if you have leisure to listen to a story of crime, 
 I'll tell it to you." 
 
 "Crime!" exclaimed Mr. Stokes, in consterna- 
 tion. "Crime!" 
 
 "Yes, crime," said Belinda, with a groan. "I'm 
 doomed I'm a child of hell I'm unregenerate. 
 Excuse me a minute did you ever! Them 
 shiftless Sewards are all at the front window, 
 commenting on the passers-by, while their roast 
 beef's burning to a crisp. Don't you smell it? 
 I'll go and ring the door-bell, and just let 'em 
 know." 
 
 But before Belinda could interfere to save this
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 295 
 
 sinful waste of good meat, the Sewards took the 
 alarm themselves and disappeared from the 
 window. 
 
 "Such dooless people," commented Belinda. 
 "They're worse than heathens. As I was say- 
 ing," she continued, "I know you can't help me, 
 and I know the minister can't help me; but I must 
 tell somebody. I wouldn't satisfy him by letting 
 him know my private feelings, for he'd just up 
 and tell his wife; and there ain't been any good 
 feeling between me and the minister's wife since 
 I laid out her aunt Matilda. I would have my 
 way; but she's an upstart the Lord forgive me, 
 here I am backbiting people when my soul's wad- 
 ing in the waters of tribulation, and drinking the 
 wine of bitterness. I am a criminal." 
 
 They had reached the bridge. Mr. Stokes took 
 off his hat and rearranged the semicircle of glossy 
 hair on his forehead. The cross of the Catholic 
 church gleamed not far from them. They turned 
 to the opposite bank, where the unfashionable 
 people, including Mrs. Desmond, lived. 
 
 "We're all criminals, more or less," said Mr. 
 Stokes. "No doubt there are men whose hands 
 are red with human blood less guiltless than we 
 who sin against light. Marcus Aurelius and 
 Emerson " 
 
 "I don't care for the opinions of any heathen," 
 interrupted Belinda. "I want to say what I've
 
 296 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 got to say, and that's all about it. I feel that I 
 must go with Eleanor Redwood on a wild-goose 
 chase to New York, because I have wronged her 
 greatly." 
 
 Belinda assumed, unconsciously, real dignity as 
 she said this; she spoke with conviction. She 
 stopped a moment to dig up a weed that was 
 making its way through the soil at the end of the 
 bridge. 
 
 "It's one of them nasty Canada thistles," she 
 said. "I can never let one of 'em be whenever I 
 see them, they're such a pest. I may as well tell 
 you the whole thing while I am about it. You 
 know what a great society woman Laury Bayard 
 is. Well, I just wanted her to help along the 
 mission in Africa you were talking about; so I 
 thought I'd satisfy her longing for gossip by 
 giving her a little paper I happened to have, with 
 a family secret in it. It wasn't much of a secret, 
 but I thought it would be a great find for her, 
 because she is always mousing to find out things 
 she has no business with; and so, without think- 
 ing, I gave her the paper because I thought she 
 knew something about what was in it. I was full 
 of the Africans when I did it, and I knew she 
 could help the mission if she wanted to, but it's 
 all turned out bad. I've put this and that to- 
 gether since, and I have reason to believe that the 
 Judge's sickness, and all the troubles that have
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 297 
 
 come to the Redwoods, are due to that act of 
 mine. And I've got to make up for it, that's 
 all." 
 
 "How could any secret in your possession have 
 done much harm?" asked Mr. Stokes. "It's all 
 imagination, Belinda." 
 
 "You shut up," replied Belinda, fiercely. "I 
 know better than that. The Judge and his wife 
 were never of one mind. Some say they had 
 religious differences. She was an awful proud 
 woman. And she was mad because Eleanor 
 wasn't a boy, and couldn't be called after her 
 family. At any rate, her troubles preyed on her 
 mind; she was crazy by fits and starts, and this 
 paper was written in one of her crazy fits. She 
 got it into her head that the Judge, just to spite 
 her, had sent away her son to Mr. and Mrs. Des- 
 mond, and put a little girl in his place. These 
 crazy spells did not last long, but they were bad 
 while they did last. It was always kept from 
 Eleanor." 
 
 "I should hope so," said Mr. Stokes. 
 
 "Oh! yes, you should hope so," cried Belinda, 
 with asperity. "But what's the good of your 
 hoping? You ain't a Christian. I don't want 
 your hopes: I just want you to listen." 
 
 Mr. Stokes sighed again. Belinda was no doubt 
 right. 
 
 "Laury Bayard ain't safe. She's a contriver.
 
 298 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 How do I know that she won't up and tell Elea- 
 nor all about it for her own purpose? And that 
 will blight Eleanor's life, as no doubt it has blight- 
 ed the Judge's. And," continued Belinda, with 
 tears in her eyes, "I ain't in the blighting business. 
 I only blighted one life before, and I am sure the 
 Lord won't hold that against me; and that was 
 when your father, Theo Stokes, wanted to marry 
 me. He wasn't my style, so I just sent him about 
 his business. But he wasn't the same man after 
 that, and he just turned around in despair and 
 married your mother, poor Theo! That's the 
 reason I've always taken such an interest in you." 
 
 Mr. Stokes looked uneasy ; he knew it was best 
 to be silent. 
 
 "I know I'm unregenerate; I know I'm in 
 danger of hell-fire, and I've no peace night or day; 
 but I'd walk over hot iron ploughshares to undo 
 what I've done. I didn't mean to be wicked, and 
 I didn't think it would do much harm to give that 
 note to Laury Bayard. But I've always been 
 taught that it's just as big a sin to steal a pin as 
 to steal a man's money; and there's no spiritooal 
 consolation for me now. I'm looking into an abyss, 
 and I've got to stick to the Judge and Eleanor 
 though I'd rather walk on ploughshares thangoto 
 New York, because I must make up for the wrong 
 I've done. I'm done for," added Belinda, with a 
 groan. "There's no mercy for a sinner like me
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 299 
 
 but if we're to get any dinner, we'd better turn 
 back," she said, with great suddenness. 
 
 A slight figure, clothed in black, turned the cor- 
 ner. Belinda at once recognized Mrs. Desmond, 
 who carried a prayer-book ornamented with a 
 large gilt cross; she was coming from High Mass. 
 
 Mrs. Desmond's rosy color had faded a little; 
 her walk was not so elastic, and there was a wist- 
 ful look in her eyes. The truth was that the light 
 had gone out of her life when her son left her. 
 Before that, she needed no effort to get through the 
 day; since that she gladly welcomed the twi- 
 light, for it meant that another day of his absence 
 had passed. She had not dreamed what it would 
 cost her to part with him. She realized that her 
 household duties derived all their pleasure from 
 the fact that he was the object of them 
 
 She greeted Mr. Stokes cordially; he reminded 
 her of Patrick. She and Belinda exchanged cool 
 bows; they had met before. Mrs. Desmond felt 
 so lonely that she determined to offer hospitality 
 to Belinda for the sake of having a talk with Mr. 
 Stokes about Patrick. 
 
 "You must be tired," she said. "It's seldom 
 you come on this side of the river. You'll not 
 mind having a cup of tea with me, I hope?" 
 
 Belinda was tired; and, besides, there might be 
 a chance of getting some consolation from Mrs. 
 Desmond on the matter which lay heavy on her 
 mind.
 
 300 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 "They've cold victuals at home to-day," replied 
 Belinda; "and Eleanor Redwood won't need me, 
 yes, I'll come." 
 
 Mr. Stokes assented, too; and in a few moments 
 the three were seated at Mrs. Desmond's table. 
 
 Mrs. Desmond welcomed Mr. Stokes and 
 Belinda as a relief from the loneliness of having 
 nobody to wait upon; and the latter gave a 
 helping hand in the arrangement of the little 
 repast, which had some of the special Sunday 
 touches particularly admired by Patrick. 
 
 "He's at Eaglescliff," said Mrs. Desmond. "I 
 expected him here to-day, but his business keeps 
 him even on Sunday." 
 
 "So near," said Belinda. "I thought he was 
 in New York." 
 
 "He's helping a lawyer named Fitzgerald in 
 the affairs of the Fly-Away Mines," answered 
 Mrs. Desmond, proudly. "Patrick is smart." 
 
 "Smart enough not to run after Eleanor Red- 
 wood, now that she's poor," Belinda said to her- 
 self. "It's too bad that the Mines have gone to 
 nothing," she remarked, aloud. 
 
 "If anybody can stop the mischief, Patrick 
 can," said the mother, confidently. "And Mr. 
 Fitzgerald is the best lawyer in New York, they 
 say." 
 
 "It will take quite a mighty good lawyer to 
 make anything of a mine after the rats leave it,"
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 301 
 
 ventured Belinda, grimly. "I say, Mrs. Des- 
 mond, what would you do if you had a great load 
 on your mind?" 
 
 It was Belinda's way to go directly to the point. 
 Mr. Stokes put his coffee-cup down, and prepared 
 to listen. Mrs. Desmond either did not hear or 
 did not heed the abrupt question; she was thinking 
 of her son. 
 
 "The Mines are all right again, I hear," said 
 Mrs. Desmond. "They will bring more money 
 than ever, that's what Patrick said in his 
 letter." 
 
 "They will!" cried Belinda. "Well, I'm glad 
 of it. If that's so I shall not have to go and be a 
 slave of duty in New York ; for the Judge will be 
 rich again. But, oh! dear," she added, "I'm just 
 the same miserable sinner. I've done the deed, 
 and I don't know what will blot it out." 
 
 Mr. Stokes did not speak, although Belinda 
 directed her speech toward him. 
 
 "And I want to know now, Mrs. Desmond 
 meaning no offence to you as a Romanist 
 what you would really do if you felt as I do." 
 
 "My heart is heavy enough sometimes. I shall 
 never be the same so long as that boy is away." 
 
 "It's natural enough for sons to go out in the 
 world, and the Scriptures are not against it; but I 
 want to know what you Romanists do when 
 you've got a crime on your mind and need to get 
 rid of it."
 
 302 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 Mrs. Desmond looked startled. "We go to 
 confession, of course, and get absolution; and if 
 we are sorry from our heart " 
 
 "Oh! I'm sorry enough," interrupted Belinda. 
 "If it were only down in the Bible, I'd go myself, 
 though it sounds awfully un-American." 
 
 "It is in the Bible," said Mrs. Desmond; "and 
 you ought to know it, Belinda. 'Whose sins you 
 shall forgive ' " 
 
 "What do you say to that, Mr. Stokes? Do 
 you call that Scriptural?" demanded Belinda, 
 
 "I have no opinion," answered Mr. Stokes. "I 
 can't have until somebody shows me what the 
 Scriptures mean; so don't ask me." 
 
 "Mr. Stokes," said Belinda, solemnly, "I don't 
 want to hurt your feelings, but I'm convinced that 
 you're a weak-minded creature. I ?.m determined 
 to have spiritooal consolation; and I'll go to a 
 Komanist priest, even if he is Irish. There now !" 
 
 Mrs. Desmond was discreet enough not to ask 
 questions; she understood that under Belinda's 
 grimness there were unrest and fear. She said a 
 quiet prayer for her. 
 
 After dinner was over, Mr. Stokes took his leave 
 very gladly, and Belinda drifted to the congenial 
 subject of the late Mrs. Redwood's state of mind. 
 
 "Some say it was religion," Belinda began, rock- 
 ing herself in the big chair. 
 
 "The poor woman gave hers up, and it preyed
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 303 
 
 on her mind. The Judge was a little hard at times 
 and she had one or two really mad fits." 
 
 "Pshaw!" said Belinda, "she was no more an 
 insane woman than you or I. It was the neural- 
 gia that did it; and Dr. Talbot said that if she 
 could get rid of her neuralgia and have her mind 
 calm, she'd never have a fit. There was no insan- 
 ity in the Waldrons, I am sure of that. Mrs. 
 Redwood just had her queerness. I'll be queer 
 myself if I don't get spiritooal consolation pretty 
 soon." 
 
 Mrs. Desmond made her give her impressions 
 over again with some satisfaction. It was a com- 
 fort which she resolved, however, to keep to her- 
 self to know that Eleanor Redwood was not 
 likely, by inheritance, to become a raving maniac. 
 
 When Belinda reached home she found that 
 Eleanor was in better spirits than usual. She was 
 seated on the porch, in one of those soft white 
 dresses she preferred. She wore some early roses 
 at her belt, and Belinda was cheered up by this; 
 for Eleanor had not worn flowers since herfather's 
 illness. 
 
 "O, Belinda!" Eleanor exclaimed, as she as- 
 cended the steps, "I have good news! Papa has 
 said a few words, and he seems to hear remarkably 
 well to-day." 
 
 "Thank the Lord," said Belinda, with fervor. 
 "I've good news, too. If what I've heard is oor-
 
 304 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 reet, you're rich again. The Fly- Away Mines are 
 worth their weight in gold." 
 
 "I am glad," replied Eleanor, smiling a little; 
 "but papa and I can get on without them. Mr. 
 Desmond has his own again; I gave the shares to 
 him." 
 
 Belinda dropped her parasol. "You did!" 
 
 "I found out they were his, and I gave them 
 up." 
 
 "You found out! Oh! I wish I had torn Laury 
 Bayard's eyes out before I gave her that note," 
 stammered Belinda, becoming as purple as her 
 parasol. "I must have spiritooal consolation, or 
 I'll choke. Oh! never mind me," she continued, 
 as Eleanor rose, with eyes full of wonder. "But 
 I want to tell you that this Patrick Desmond has 
 no more right to those shares than the man in the 
 moon. And I want to say, besides, that the only 
 way to get 'em back again is to marry him, though 
 he ain't no kind of a match for you." 
 
 Eleanor made a proud gesture toward Belinda, 
 and said coldly: "Go into the house." 
 
 Belinda, in a whirlwind of indignation, dis- 
 appeared; the next moment she made an attack 
 on the pans in the kitchen which startled the Sun- 
 day atmosphere. 
 
 Eleanor, hoping that her father would sleep 
 through this dreadful racket, remained on the 
 porch, and resolved to discover what Belinda
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 305 
 
 meant. And when Belinda had cooled a little 
 they talked and cried late into the night. After 
 that Eleanor prayed that she might be shown the 
 way out ; and she prayed, too, that it might not be 
 wrong to pray for her mother.
 
 306 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 For as much as each one is in Thy eyes, so much is he, and 
 no more, saith the humble St. Francis. "Following of Christ." 
 
 ELEANOE continued her preparations for leav- 
 ing Redwood, but with a decrease of elation. She 
 was young enough and inexperienced enough to 
 believe that any change must be for the better; 
 at the same time she enjoyed a certain feeling of 
 heroism in facing the world. But even the evi- 
 dent improvement in her father's condition could 
 not soothe the effect of the doubts raised by Be- 
 linda's words. Had she done wrong to surrender 
 to Patrick Desmond the shares of stock in the 
 Fly-Away Mines? Had it been a desire to be 
 just that prompted her, or only a certain pride in 
 showing that she was just? 
 
 On Monday Belinda repentantly told Eleanor 
 the story of the note she had found, and of her 
 misuse of it. Eleanor had no words of reproach 
 for Belinda. The only thought that absorbed her 
 mind was the question, "Have I done right?" 
 Belinda indignantly said, "No"; and, accus- 
 tomed as she was to speak out plainly, went on: 
 "Of course the money's gone, and there's no help 
 for it. And I must say, Eleanor Redwood, that 
 if I've been a criminal, you've been a fool." 
 
 Eleanor did not answer to this. Belinda's po-
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 307 
 
 sition in the family and in Redwood gave her privi- 
 leges even beyond those large ones taken by the 
 ordinary domestic assistants. 
 
 "Mr. Desmond will keep nothing that does not 
 belong to him," Eleanor remarked. "Suppose 
 we change the subject?" 
 
 "I'd bring a suit at law for the money. Money 
 is money, and business is business." 
 
 "Oh! how can you talk that way, Belinda. 
 How can you! My father would rather die in an 
 almshouse than drag his private affairs into court." 
 
 "He would, would he?" said Belinda, with a 
 sneer. "Then he ain't like most of us. If you've 
 got any gumption, Eleanor Kedwood, you'll lay 
 your pipes so that you can marry this Desmond 
 man. He is a papist and Irish, but money is 
 
 Eleanor, her face crimson, had left her. Be- 
 linda shrugged her shoulder, and muttered to her- 
 self: "I guess I've done more damage. As I'm 
 doomed anyhow, it won't make much difference." 
 
 After this Eleanor was unusually quiet. She 
 went about her duties the same as before, but said 
 little; she saw no visitors. Mrs. Howard Sykes, 
 who sent flowers and fruit every day, made her 
 way to Eleanor's room, and lectured her with a 
 mixture of kindness and vulgarity. The Judge 
 could never afterwards complain that the people 
 of Redwood had deserted him in his poverty. 
 
 Dr. Talbot had said that the Judge was able to
 
 308 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 travel. There was a large group of old friends at 
 the station; among them was Mrs. Bayard, who 
 began to cultivate a new affection for Eleanor, now 
 that she was down in the world. As the train 
 moved from the station, Eleanor caught sight of 
 Mrs. Desmond and kissed her hand to her. 
 
 Belinda stood on the platform in a tragic atti- 
 tude; and she felt tragical. To her the leaving 
 Redwood was a terrible step into the unknown; 
 but the Puritan instinct in her, inherited and cul- 
 tivated for Belinda's "forebears" had been New 
 England Congregationalists, made herwillingto 
 flay herself rather than not suffer for the wrong 
 she had done. Belinda felt that henceforth there 
 could be no joy for her in this world. Her spirit- 
 ual child, Mr. Stokes, had failed her, and now she 
 was an exile for in justice' sake. There was no com- 
 pensation in this life or the next for her. Her 
 idea of God was that of a being waiting anxiously 
 to cast her into perdition. She had given this 
 creature of her imagination a creature resulting 
 from an ignorant reading of the Old Testament 
 his chance, and she was sure that he had taken it. 
 She was not going to complain ; but nevertheless 
 she was determined to do her duty to the bitter 
 end. But this duty would deprive her of all the 
 little ameliorations of her lot. If Mrs. Howard 
 Sykes' preserved pineapple put up by that odious 
 female in opposition to Belinda's own receipt
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 309 
 
 turned out bad, she could never know it now; 
 and who would tell her every detail of the funeral 
 of Sara Jane Smalltweed, who had just died? 
 
 Judge Redwood seemed to grow brighter for 
 the change of scene; he spoke several times in a 
 whisper, and delighted Eleanor by calling atten- 
 tion to the various objects they passed. A small 
 house in the middle of a wheat field, with a bright 
 red barn behind it, made him smile, the barn 
 towering in size, and its striking color making the 
 house seem insignificant. His pleasure in the open 
 country awakened in his daughter's mind some 
 doubts as to his feelings when he should see the 
 little dwelling-place she had, with Mrs. Fitzgerald's 
 help, found for him. Mary Fitzgerald had been 
 kinder than she admitted at the dinner party, and 
 had piloted Eleanor to "a jewel of a flat," accord- 
 ing to the New York point of view. The New 
 York point of view was not Belinda's, and she be- 
 gan to fear her father would have no sympathy 
 with it. 
 
 The railroad journey was uneventful, and Be- 
 linda's impressions of New York were mercifully 
 softened by darkness. If Mary Fitzgerald had 
 not saved Eleanor from the horrors of house- 
 hunting, she would probably have gone back to 
 Redwood in despair. It was bad enough to behold 
 a chaos of unsettled furniture in the six small 
 rooms of the flat, only one of which was in order.
 
 310 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 This was the one intended for the Judge, and it 
 had been arranged by Mary. A very small portion 
 of the furniture from the Kedwood house could be 
 got into the flat, which was fortunately a first 
 floor. 
 
 Belinda's first thought on entering the house 
 was of the kitchen. She declared she couldn't 
 work in such a place, and wept. "You couldn't 
 swing a cat in it," she said, as if one of the chief 
 uses of kitchens was for the swinging of cats. 
 The door-opener an arrangement by which she 
 could open the door without leaving the kitchen 
 gave her some consolation; but she went to bed 
 much depressed. She was willing to bear her 
 burden; but what a punishment had fallen upon 
 her. She had never dreamed of being obliged to 
 live in "a hole in the wall." 
 
 Mary Fitzgerald, kindly as usual, came the next 
 day to help to set things to rights. The Judge 
 took a fancy to her; she was so gentle, so gracious, 
 so like one who knew from experience what sor- 
 row was. Belinda, at first so sullen and silent, 
 relaxed her grimness a little, and even listened to 
 Mary's apologies for the flat. 
 
 "It's nothing but living in rooms," Belinda 
 said. 
 
 "But, you know, half New York lives in 
 rooms," answered Mary. "A flat has advantages. 
 What would you do with a big New York house?"
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 311 
 
 "I don't know, and I don't want to know," 
 snapped Belinda. "But I do know that if them 
 folks upstairs don't stop creaking the ropes of 
 that dumb-waiter at all hours in the day, they'll 
 get a piece of my mind." 
 
 Mary did not reply to this outburst. Belinda 
 seemed to be a new and strange type, but she 
 understood Eleanor at once. She admired her 
 frankness, her directness, even the quixotic ideas 
 that flashed out unconsciously in her talk. Mary 
 never distrusted her own instinct about 
 strangers; she never feared and she was never 
 deceived. Her chance meeting with Eleanor had 
 interested her. 
 
 The Judge slept much after his railway jour- 
 ney; and Belinda, seated by the kitchen window, 
 spent most of her time in looking out on the side 
 street. Her observations only convinced her 
 more and more, that New York was Babylonian 
 and accursed. 
 
 When the flat was put in order Mary gave a 
 great deal of time to it, as Arthur had not yet re- 
 turned from Eaglescliff, the young women had 
 a long talk. It was in the time of twilight. The 
 little parlor had been made bright with the pretti- 
 est spoil from the Redwood house. Two of 
 Eleanor's panels hung above the fireplace. There 
 was a slight chill in the air, not enough to justify 
 a fire ; but Mary had made one in the grate, as an
 
 312 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 aid to cheerfulness. The wood cracked merrily, 
 flashing on the brass tea-kettle and tiny cups on 
 the table; a vague perfume came from a few roses 
 Mary had brought, and Eleanor sank into her 
 father's big chair, with a feeling of contentment 
 in the presence of a friend. The Judge was rest- 
 ing, in a succession of dozes, in the next room. Be- 
 linda had received permission to go to the won- 
 drous Broadway with the maid above, with whom 
 she had formed a transient friendship. This left 
 the place clear for a comfortable talk, for con- 
 fidences are not confidences in a flat, if the acous- 
 tic quality is at all good. 
 
 "And now you must tell me your plans," Mary 
 said, giving Eleanor a cup of tea. 
 
 "Indeed I shall, with pleasure," returned Elea- 
 nor. "It is so lovely to have somebody to talk 
 freely to, and you seem like somebody I have been 
 looking for. I have always wished for a brother, 
 it seems to me I miss the brother I might have 
 had less when I am with you." 
 
 Mary's smile faded. "Brothers are sometimes 
 a great care," she said. "Ah! my dear, God 
 gives us what is best. We are just what we are 
 in His eyes, and no more. It is foolish to imagine 
 that He will give earthly happiness I mean the 
 things that seem to make earthly happiness 
 because we love Him. His kingdom is not of this 
 world, and we cannot expect ours to be."
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 313 
 
 Eleanor opened her eyes; she looked on Mary 
 as a happy woman. "Why, He has given you 
 happiness!" she exclaimed, "that is, in thinking 
 much about you since I have met you, it seems to 
 me that He has." 
 
 "He has given me my dear husband for a 
 time; but He has taken my child, and " Mary 
 paused; she could not speak of Miles. "I once 
 thought," she added, "that if we tried to love 
 God, He would make earth a path of roses. But, 
 my dear, it is a great mistake; we must cover 
 many a sharp thorn with the roses of patience 
 and resignation." 
 
 "I like to hear your words," said Eleanor, 
 eagerly. "I have always longed to get nearer to 
 God. I am afraid I never understood what relig- 
 ion meant at Kedwood. I have found myself 
 stupid about many things. But I never found 
 satisfaction in sermons and hymns that expressed 
 merely a longing for a God who seemed so far off. 
 I often think that I should not have been so 
 proud so proud of the Waldron ancestry, I 
 mean, so interested in the petty gaieties at 
 home, if I could have been nearer to God." 
 
 "I am sure you were never very frivolous," 
 said Mary, looking into the young girl's clear, 
 earnest eyes, and pressing her hand. "But it 
 seems you want me to talk. I thought you were 
 to tell me about your plans."
 
 314 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 "So I shall, and yet I think the question of 
 religion is more important to me than my plans. 
 I never knew any Catholic well that is, any 
 Catholic who could explain things to me, and 
 who acted as if he believed in his religion ex- 
 cept Mr. Desmond." 
 
 "I have met him." Mary, who had a woman's 
 fondness for a bit of romance, scanned Eleanor's 
 face closely. 
 
 "I was much attracted by him, exceedingly in- 
 terested in him," Eleanor went on, without a 
 blush or a tremor in her voice. "I had heard of 
 him (though he wasn't in our social circle), and 
 of his devotion to his mother, and his manliness. 
 When I met him I liked him, and I wanted to 
 know what made him so much better than other 
 men. You know how girls say that all men are 
 bad. Laura Bayard " 
 
 "I don't know what girls say about men," in- 
 terrupted her companion; "for I have never 
 known any girl well but my own dear Esther." 
 
 "Oh! 7 don't think so," exclaimed Eleanor, 
 anxious that Mary, who had a husband, might not 
 think that she intended to brand all men. "Of 
 course Laura Bayard, an old friend of mine, was 
 prejudiced. But there are some men who are not 
 nice, and one knows them by instinct; don't you 
 think so? Mr. Desmond isn't one of these, 
 though I am sure he is too fond of money: he
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 315 
 
 would do any honest thing in the world to be rich. 
 I know that and he is rich." Her countenance 
 fell; she remembered suddenly how he had 
 become rich. Then she rushed into the episode 
 of the mine shares. 
 
 Mary listened attentively. "Do you really 
 think you had a right to do that?" she asked, 
 gravely. 
 
 "Of course," said the young girl, half-offended. 
 "The shares were mine, to do as I pleased with." 
 
 Mary shook her head and was silent for a 
 moment. "Whom did you consult?" she asked, 
 after Eleanor had watched her, anxiety in her 
 eyes. 
 
 "Nobody. I know what a business man would 
 have said 'Hold on to them; and if they are 
 worth anything, the real owner will make you 
 give them up/ I did not want to be made, if the 
 shares ever became valuable. I wanted to show 
 Mr. Desmond that the moment I knew that my 
 father had unconsciously wronged him, I was 
 willing to make amends. No business man could 
 have settled the matter for me: I had to settle it 
 for myself. It was a question of conscience, a 
 moral question. I stood alone before God." 
 
 "And you acted on an impulse?" 
 
 Eleanor flushed. "I thought it was a right 
 impulse." 
 
 Mary set down her teacup and laid her hand on
 
 316 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 Eleanor's shoulder. "Do you want plain talk, 
 dear?" 
 
 "Yes, I do," answered Eleanor, with tears in 
 her eyes. "That is, I am anxious to want it. 
 You don't know how unhappy I am and yet I 
 am glad, too. I have given up what might have 
 made my father safe from want, in case I should 
 die; while I live I am not afraid," she added, her 
 eyes sparkling. "I have given it away; and my 
 father, when he recovers, may look on me as 
 having made him poor, as having dragged him 
 down. So you see his recovery has a certain 
 bitterness in its joy it is great, great joy. Sup- 
 pose my father should insist on my telling Mr. 
 Desmond all the circumstances: of my dear 
 mother's fits of aberration? O, Mrs. Fitzgerald! 
 I should rather be poor all my life than have to 
 tell anybody but you for you seem near to me, 
 and God knows I need a friend, the story of 
 my poor mother's troubled life, as Belinda has 
 hinted it to me." 
 
 "Had you no minister to advise you in your 
 doubt?" 
 
 "I never thought of such a thing!" exclaimed 
 Eleanor. "It was a question of conscience; I did 
 not need that any man should come between God 
 and me." 
 
 "It is hard to find out the right all by one's self 
 sometimes," said Mary. "And impulse is a bad 
 guide where others are concerned."
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 317 
 
 "What would you have done? Surely, in a 
 case of conscience, you would let nobody stand 
 between God and you." 
 
 "Not in the sense in which you use the phrase, 
 no, but I should ask the advice of one con- 
 secrated to mediate between God and me. I 
 should have gone to a priest, educated to solve 
 moral questions and to look on them conserva- 
 tively. He would have helped me." 
 
 "And you would have trusted him?" 
 
 "Trusted him! Why not? The laws which 
 govern his decision were made, not by himself, 
 but by great doctors of moral law; and he is wise 
 in them." 
 
 Eleanor was silent. "How safe you must feel 
 in your Church. O, Mrs. Fitzgerald! I long to be 
 guided to be nearer God!" 
 
 Mary kissed Eleanor's forehead. "We will 
 talk of that. But first tell me how you intend to 
 earn a living." 
 
 Eleanor did not answer; she heard the rustle of 
 a paper in her father's room; she parted the 
 curtains and looked in, on tiptoe. She returned 
 to Mary, radiant. "He is reading! he is read- 
 ing!" she exclaimed. "I left him the evening 
 paper, and he is reading. Oh! thank God." 
 
 After a time she answered Mary's question. 
 She lit all the gas burners and drew Mary to the 
 chimney-piece. "See!" she said, proudly dis-
 
 318 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 playing the panels. "I am sure that if I do 
 better than that I shall be an artist. Everybody 
 has praised my work." 
 
 Mary looked in dismay at the garlands of pop- 
 pies and the bunches of other flowers, well- 
 drawn, well-colored, but entirely commonplace. 
 
 "You don't like them?" asked the young girl, 
 anxiously. 
 
 Mary turned away. Should she tell the truth 
 or be merely polite? Her duty seemed plain; it 
 would be cruel to deceive this candid young 
 creature, who was so much of a child and yet so 
 true a woman. "They are pretty, but a thousand 
 girls here in New York make better things of the 
 kind. You cannot " 
 
 "I know, I understand; and you are a judge," 
 said Eleanor, growing white with pain. "People 
 have meant to be kind " 
 
 "Eleanor!" said a weak voice from the Judge's 
 room. "Come here, Eleanor! We are safe 
 again. This paper quotes the Fly- Away Mines at 
 par. I shall get well again now." 
 
 Eleanor put her arms around Mary's neck; her 
 hands grew cold. "Oh, how shall I tell him?" 
 she whispered, "how shall I tell him?" 
 
 And Mary, looking at her eyes, tearless and 
 agonized, obeyed an impulse which had become a 
 habit. "Go to him, my dear; and when the time 
 comes, I will tell him."
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 319 
 
 XXV. 
 
 Man's heart is either of feathers or of lead. 
 
 Turkish Proverb. 
 
 THERE was much reason for Eleanor's agitation. 
 It was a terrible thing for her to discover that she 
 had risked her father's future because of a false 
 idea of her own, and because of a too exalted be- 
 lief of her own powers. For the moment the most 
 cruel part of it all was that,in order to explain the 
 condition of things to her father, she would have 
 to admit that she had suspected him of injustice 
 to Patrick Desmond. There was no palliation in 
 the knowledge that this rash judgment of hers 
 had been founded on her mother's words, uttered 
 in a moment of hallucination. Her respect for 
 her father was so deep that it seemed like a physi- 
 cal wound to her heart to acknowledge to him that 
 for a long time she had doubted his probity, or, at 
 best, his courage to do right. She felt, too, a great 
 terror of touching on the difficulties between her 
 father and mother. Any allusion to them might 
 seem like aa accusation. And Eleanor knew that 
 her father was weak, depressed, between life and 
 death; he needed, above all, an atmosphere of love 
 and trust. And this she should procure for him. 
 
 The humiliation of her position in regard to 
 Desmond struck her. In a fit of mock heroism
 
 320 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 she had made restitution to him of valueless 
 shares; these shares rising in value, she would 
 be obliged perhaps, in justice to her father, to ask 
 for them again. She covered her face with her 
 hands, and blushed to the roots of her hair, as she 
 thought of the mortification of this. She believed 
 very firmly in Desmond's honesty. Of late she 
 had learned many things about Catholic prac- 
 tices; he must be honest, she said to herself, or he 
 could not be a practical Catholic. Rut, then, he 
 might feel obliged to defend his right to the shares 
 for the sake of his mother. He would have to 
 know the whole wretched story; and she, after a 
 talk with her father, must tell it to him. No, she 
 would not ask Mary Fitzgerald to bear her bur- 
 dens; she would take them up herself, and bear 
 them bravely. This was her resolution. 
 
 The physician to whose care Dr. Talbot had 
 consigned Judge Redwood looked grave when he 
 came on the day after the Judge's burst of words. 
 It was his private opinion that Dr. Talbot had 
 carried his pet practice of bleeding too far; he 
 himself believed that the old-fashioned practice 
 had not enough value in it to warrant its revival ; 
 and, although Dr. Talbot had undoubtedly saved 
 the Judge's life, the stringent regimen had left 
 him weak in body. The new physician sent for a 
 trained nurse, and recommended quiet. Even 
 Eleanor was forbidden to enter his room.
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 321 
 
 On learning this, the young girl was more 
 unhappy than she had ever been in her life; she 
 hated the exclusion from her father's presence, and 
 she feared to be alone with him. In spite of her 
 resolution to bear -her own burdens, she went over 
 to Mary Fitzgerald's as soon as she could in de- 
 cency make a call. The inner light of Mary's life 
 shone on her face; it shone for other people; it 
 had been fed and kept trimmed before the altar 
 of "the idol of Miles/' as Esther occasionally 
 named the object of her sister's devotion; and, 
 notwithstanding the fact that the object of the 
 flame had been unworthy, the fire grew purer and 
 purer every day. 
 
 Eleanor had a guilty feeling of selfishness as 
 she rang the Fitzgerald bell. She knew that she 
 was about to cast part of her burden on Mary; 
 but, then, did not Mary's goodness invite it? 
 And was she not a Catholic and bound to bear 
 other people's burdens? "It is easy for Catholics 
 to be good," Eleanor said mentally. "They have 
 so many ways of getting nearer to God, while we 
 poor Protestants have to struggle and struggle, 
 and depend on ourselves." 
 
 Eleanor was asked up to Mary's room at once. 
 Mary was engaged in making an elaborate frock 
 for little Miley all bows and lace and color. 
 Eleanor admired the room. There was a lovely 
 statue of Our Lady of Victories, sent from abroad
 
 35}2 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 by Esther; there was Esther's own picture, with 
 the black silk frock she had worn at Mr. Bastien's 
 concert; and there was Miles, the little boy in a 
 short jacket. This was heavily framed with white 
 velvet, and the Brown Scapulars hung above it. 
 There were a hundred little souvenirs that Mary 
 loved. The room was exquisitely simple in its 
 appointments, but there were flowers everywhere. 
 
 Mary rose and extended both hands to her 
 visitor. She noticed Eleanor's eye resting on 
 the work in her hands. 
 
 "This is a gala frock for my little nephew. It's 
 very ornamental, is it not? But the little boy's 
 mother loves him so, that nothing is too fine." 
 
 Eleanor silently commented on the foolishness 
 of any mother who would put a small child into 
 such an array. She began to be happy in Mary's 
 presence, which affected her as a genial grate fire 
 affects one who has been out in a cold wind. 
 
 "Has your husband come home yet?" Eleanor 
 asked, fearingthat there might be an interruption. 
 
 "No; but I have a letter from him. His busi- 
 ness is more complicated than he expected." 
 
 "I am afraid I'm glad," said Eleanor, smiling. 
 "I shall be able to talk for a time with you. Oh, 
 I want your advice so much! Do you think I 
 might become a Catholic?" 
 
 Mary started. Her face brightened, and grad- 
 ually became grave. "It is an important step. _I
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 323 
 
 hope you will forgive me for asking a most im- 
 pertinent question, most impertinent." 
 
 "I will answer any question you ask, I will 
 indeed!" said Eleanor, rising and standing before 
 Mary. "Oh! don't think I am bigoted or preju- 
 diced or superstitious about your Church, as Prot- 
 estants sometimes are. I know that your religion 
 makes you good." 
 
 Mary sighed. "You may well believe that if 
 it does not make us good nothing can. But my 
 question is not about the Inquisition," with a 
 little smile, "or anything of that kind. Are you 
 drawn to the Catholic Church simply because 
 somebody who wants to marry you expects you 
 to be a Catholic?" 
 
 Theyounggirl looked amazed, and then laughed. 
 "Nobody wants to marry me. What an idea!" 
 
 Mary, who had watched Desmond at the dinner 
 party, was somewhat disconcerted. It had been her 
 private opinion that any possible difficulty about 
 the mine shares would be settled by matrimony. 
 
 "I must beg your pardon, Miss Redwood " 
 
 "Call me Eleanor." 
 
 "Well, I will, but it requires a pure motive 
 to help us to enter the Church of God. And I 
 have seen some converts I have always feared 
 that any words of mine but, my dear, Father 
 Jackson will talk to you about it. I will arrange 
 an interview."
 
 324 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 "Thank you," replied Eleanor. "I may say 
 that I want to be a Catholic because I want to be 
 safe. I feel that I must get nearer God or die. 
 And of late I have thought of it a great deal, be- 
 cause I have met such good Catholics." 
 
 "Mr. Desmond?" asked Mary, with a touch of 
 malice. 
 
 "Yes and you." 
 
 The maid came up with a card. 
 
 Mary rose. "Let us go downstairs," she said. 
 "It's my sister-in-law. She is rather formal in 
 some ways, and she does not like to be received 
 in my room." 
 
 Nellie was seated on a divan in the large 
 drawing-room, darkened and uninviting, as most 
 New York drawing-rooms are in the daytime. 
 The maid opened the shutters, and the soft June 
 sunlight came in. Nellie was glad to meet Miss 
 Redwood. She had taken the liberty to examine 
 a small diary which Desmond, filled with rustic 
 trust in human nature, had left in his room. 
 There she had read of Eleanor several times. 
 Nellie thanked her stars that she had on her pur- 
 ple velvet, and made a most dramatic lurch 
 toward Eleanor, in order to draw out the full 
 length of her train. "Gracious!" she said to her- 
 self, "the idea of his liking this slip of a girl bet- 
 ter than the Baroness, after all the attention she 
 paid him."
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 325 
 
 Nellie had learned some things which had not 
 improved her appearance or conversation. She 
 had put large patches of black under her eye- 
 lashes, and pencilled her eyebrows not with the 
 firmest hand; besides, she had acquired several 
 French phrases superficially, without having had 
 a chance to corroborate them. She saw with de- 
 light this chance of playing the lady of fashion 
 with this provincial. 
 
 "O, my dear!" she said, "I'm so glad to meet 
 you. I must kiss you again. A young friend of 
 mine a sort of dependent, my cousin in fact, my 
 husband's secretary has often spoken of you " 
 
 Mary Fitzgerald interfered nervously, with an 
 allusion to Miley's new frock. 
 
 "Why did you interrupt me," whispered Nel- 
 lie. "I was just going to say that he considered 
 her his intended." 
 
 Mary shuddered. "Miss Redwood is slightly 
 acquainted with Mr. Desmond," she remarked. 
 
 "Only slightly?" said Nellie archly. "Oh! I 
 know how it was myself." 
 
 Mary was sincerely grateful that the young girl 
 did not see the wink which Nellie directed at her, 
 a wink being Nellie's social telephone. 
 
 "I must say," Nellie continued, "that I'm not 
 pleased with Patrick Desmond. Though Miles 
 and I have done everything for him set him up 
 both socially arid financiallv he has left us. I
 
 326 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 hear, by the way, that he is rich. Of course he'll 
 turn on us now, like the viper on horseback. 
 We've a new young man in his place, who can't 
 be independent and talk about conscientious 
 scruples; for we got him off the Island. People 
 off the Island can't have consciences; they's got 
 to take pot-luck, like the rest of us." 
 
 Eleanor looked at Nellie, observing her paint, 
 her overtrimmed velvet gown, and hat overloaded 
 with flowers; and thought she was the most 
 odious female she had ever met. 
 
 "We must see you at our place, dear," Nellie 
 went on, while Mary bent her head over her work. 
 "My husband is only in politics, to be sure; he's 
 not a professional man, like Mr. Arthur Fitzgerald 
 oh! my, no. He only makes his bread by coin- 
 ing the sweat of his brow for the welfare of the 
 Empire State. But he goes, all 'the same, though 
 he is only a statesman. Perhaps you think this is 
 sarcasm. Oh! no." And Nellie giggled toward 
 her sister-in-law. "Goodness, my dear, where did 
 you come from?" 
 
 "From Redwood." 
 
 "Redwood?" said Nellie, in a far-away tone. 
 "Iowa, Ohio somewhere in the West, I suppose? 
 You must let me do your hair for you; it's not 
 chick at all. If you want to look smart and 
 rekerky, you " 
 
 Mary interrupted once more. "How is Miles?"
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 327 
 
 "Miles is sick. A bad attack of nervous depres- 
 sion." 
 
 "O Nellie, why didn't you tell me?" asked 
 Mary, dropping her work. "Is it serious?" 
 
 "It's always serious," said Nellie, with evident 
 satisfaction. "You don't know when a man with 
 a brain like that is going to go off. Never marry 
 a successful man, Miss Redwood. You can't im- 
 agine what they are; they're generous to a fault. 
 I hadn't been married five months when Miley 
 give me this pair of diamond earrings. Giants, 
 ain't they?" 
 
 Eleanor admired them; she rose to go, but 
 Mary made an appealing motion. 
 
 "I ought to see Miles at once." 
 
 "Not at all," said Nellie. "I can take care of 
 him. And I must say,though it is in the presence 
 of a stranger, that your talk about religion is not 
 agreeable to him. A man of the world can't be 
 hanging about a church all the time. He doesn't 
 like to hear about confession and all that. You 
 just let Miles alone, and he'll come around all 
 right one of these days." 
 
 "How can you talk in that way, Nellie?" asked 
 Mary, in real distress. 
 
 "He's no worse than other men," retorted Nel- 
 lie. "You had the bringing up of him, and I've 
 had to undertake the job after you've spoiled " 
 and then, remembering Eleanor, she graciously
 
 328 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 said good-by, took Miley's little frock, which she 
 had come for, and sailed out, tinkling various 
 bangles and metal ornaments. 
 
 "You will pardon me for keeping you," Mary 
 said to Eleanor. "You have trusted me so much 
 that I do not hesitate to trust you. I wanted you 
 to stay, that I might have a chance of preventing 
 you from misjudging my sister-in-law. She is 
 not as she seems. She has a good heart and an 
 honest nature, but she has never had good home 
 influence about her. Her husband, my brother, is 
 a busy man, one of the truest souls in the world, 
 groping in the dark somewhat now. Butyou should 
 have seen what a lovely little baby and what a 
 sweet boy he was. We will go to my room again " 
 
 The doorbell rang, and the two women stood 
 still, instead of moving. A voice and a quick step 
 sounded in the hall, and Patrick Desmond entered. 
 
 He bowed his face flushed and he started as 
 he saw Eleanor. 
 
 "Mr. Fitzgerald sent me for a paper which is 
 in the right-hand drawer of his desk; this is a 
 copy of the indorsement," he said, standing, al- 
 though Mrs. Fitzgerald asked him to take a chair. 
 "I am to go back to-night, and I am entirely at 
 your service." 
 
 Mary took the note. "Excuse me," she said, 
 "I will find the paper." 
 
 She went out of the room, looking on this op-
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 329 
 
 portunity as admirable for the acceleration of 
 match-making. She said to herself that it would 
 be strange if, after this interview, Eleanor did 
 not understand her own mind. 
 
 Eleanor could scarcely restrain herself from 
 grasping Mary's departing gown with both hands. 
 Mr. Desmond was handsomer than ever, probably 
 because he was better dressed; she felt cheered 
 by his presence, but she would have given much 
 to get away from him at that moment. As to 
 him, he was happy. Of all persons in the world, 
 he wanted most to see her, and to see her without 
 breaking his promise to his mother. 
 
 "I have come from Redwood," said Desmond, 
 taking the seat nearest him, which happened to 
 be the piano-stool. 
 
 "Dear old Redwood!" answered Eleanor, 
 softly. 
 
 "And I have important news for you, Miss Red- 
 wood. The Fly-Away is going up; and Dr. Tal- 
 bot, whom I saw at Redwood, has told me all" 
 
 Eleanor looked pained. 
 
 "I was obliged to ask, in justice to myself and 
 to you," he said apologetically. "I have found 
 that I have not the slightest right to the shares. 
 Your father never wronged me." 
 
 Eleanor turned her face away. What could she 
 say to this? 
 
 "Dr.Talbot," he went on, "behaved with great
 
 330 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 delicacy and kindness. You need not fear that he 
 told me anything which I ought not to know. He 
 merely explained tomethe natureof your mother's 
 malady, brought on by neuralgia; and he said 
 
 "Never mind!" Eleanor raised her hand; she 
 hated to hear the subject of her mother's malady 
 alluded to even by a man she regarded with re- 
 spect. "Don't say any more. I have probably 
 done you some injury by my rash action about 
 the shares. You will forgive me, I hope, and let 
 me make any pecuniary amends " she stopped, 
 seeing a frown on Desmond's brow. "But let me 
 say frankly that had you been less honorable 
 had you concluded to keep these shares, you 
 might have done so. Nothing on earth would 
 have forced me to make a contest in court. I 
 might have known, however, that you, religious 
 as you are and how I admire your religion! 
 would have been as anxious to return the shares 
 as I was to give them to you." 
 
 "I hardly deserve praise; I could not keep 
 what did not belong to me. Thanks to my 
 mother, I am an honest man," Desmond said, 
 gravely. 
 
 "I know that," answered Eleanor, with a slight 
 bitterness in her tone. "I have seen something of 
 life in Redwood, and heard men talk;and I know 
 of no business man there who would have given 
 up these shares without a struggle. Honesty in
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 331 
 
 business is not the kind of honesty you have 
 learned. Honesty, according to the business code, 
 means to hold all you have, whether it is your 
 own or not, until the law takes it from you." 
 
 Eleanor's eyes flashed and her cheeks reddened. 
 Desmond thought he had never seen anybody 
 so beautiful ;and the knowledge that she admired 
 him was delightful. How easy it was, under the 
 circumstances, to be honest. 
 
 "And," she continued, "grant me a favor. 
 Act as my agent in the management of the stock 
 until my father recovers. You will, will you 
 not?" 
 
 Desmond promised with effusion. 
 
 "Thank you," she said, with a grateful smile. 
 
 "And now I will tell you something that will 
 please you and your mother. I am thinking of 
 becoming a member of your Church." 
 
 He stepped forward and took her hand in his: 
 she did not withdraw it at once, but looked up at 
 him with the frankness of a child. 
 
 "Yes; I will be a Catholic, if God wills it." 
 
 "Thank God!" said Desmond, fervently. 
 
 "I knew it would please you," she replied, 
 withdrawing her hand. 
 
 At this moment Mary entered with the paper. 
 She paused on the threshold, smiling a little, and 
 saying to herself that, after all, the mining stock 
 was not likely to change hands.
 
 332 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 When Desmond started for the train for Eagles- 
 cliff, he seemed to tread on air. He was happy. 
 What could he not dare and do for this exquisite 
 creature, who had smiled on him and made clear 
 a hope that had been vague before? He blushed 
 while he admitted to himself that, if he chose to 
 overcome his pride, Eleanor Redwood might be 
 his wife. Somehow or other, his objection to 
 marrying a woman with Fly-Away stock at par 
 had dwindled in an hour. He had never before 
 felt how really sinful pride is.
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 333 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 A whole heaven is contained in a drop of dew; a whole soul 
 in a tear. Abbe Roux. 
 
 ELEANOR was preoccupied with many things 
 during the first days of her life in the flat. It 
 was delightful to think that she should be spared 
 the dreadful necessity of telling her father of her 
 quixotic action in regard to the mine shares, and 
 to feel that he was not dependent on the result of 
 her art work. She accepted Mary Fitzgerald's 
 verdict on the worthlessness of her painting with 
 a sigh, but she did not revolt against it. After all, 
 Mary Fitzgerald must know about such things. 
 It was a disappointment to her, and something of 
 a humiliation. And after Mary had carefully 
 pointed out the defects in the unfortunate panels, 
 Eleanor never looked at them without a shudder; 
 for it was on those trivial efforts she had proposed 
 to hang her father's future. Now, through Des- 
 mond's honesty, that was assured, thank God! 
 And if health would only come again to that dear 
 father, life might bring any trial to her. She 
 could bear it. She asked herself, too, if her 
 father should be brought back to health, whether 
 she would be satisfied were he the Judge Redwood 
 of old acute, kindly, doubting. And something 
 within her answered that she would not. She
 
 334 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK: f)ESMONt* 
 
 awoke to thetruth that she could not be happy un- 
 less he ceased to doubt. 
 
 During these days Eleanor had little to do. 
 Belinda was in a bad humor and would not permit 
 her to interfere in the household arrangements. 
 The trained nurse was with her father, and, by 
 the doctor's orders, she was allowed to see him 
 only at short intervals. The doctor said little 
 about his patient's condition. Eleanor hoped, and 
 so far she was not told to fear. Having some 
 time on her hands, she made timid explorations 
 into the whirl of New York. It pleased and ter- 
 rified her. The color and glitter of Broadway 
 delighted her artistic spirit; the motion and tu- 
 mult shocked her. Surely, she said to herself, there 
 could be no homes in such a place. It seemed 
 to her that the crowd in Broadway was only a 
 great procession moving onward forever. The 
 little children, who seemed caught in this perpet- 
 ual movement, filled her with pity. What did 
 they know of fresh woods and pastures new, of 
 all the world of country sights and sounds? They 
 seemed to her like flies caught in the big web- 
 wheel of a relentless spider, and turned unceas- 
 ingly around and around. She wished she could 
 take them to the beautiful orchard behind her 
 father's house, near the river bank at Redwood. 
 
 A great deal of her time was spent in the 
 church, to which she had found her way on the
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 335 
 
 first day she came to New York. She did not 
 pray much, her religious training had given 
 her few forms of prayer, and she was not quick at 
 putting prayers into her own words. The still- 
 ness of the church satisfied her. She loved its 
 very gloom; but, above all, she loved intuitively 
 the ever-watchful light before the tabernacle. 
 She never felt lonely when alone before that 
 light. Somehow, there her burdens seemed to 
 grow lighter. One day she took courage to go 
 into the sacristy and ask Father Jackson what 
 the lamp meant After that she loved the sacred 
 place more than ever. At last the whole desire 
 of her life seemed within her grasp; she was 
 nearer to God. 
 
 One day she afterward remembered it well 
 two Sisters of Charity passed her, as she stood 
 for a moment in the vestibule before entering. 
 Eleanor had never seen the garb of a Sister at 
 Redwood. She knew the costumes of religious 
 only from an occasional picture in an illustrated 
 paper and the pictures in her father's copy of 
 "Marmion." The two that she now met repre- 
 sented dreariness and sacrifice to her; she shrank 
 from them instinctively, and then, catching sight 
 of the face of one of them, felt repentant. Surely 
 thatface,so clear,so serene, must be near to God. 
 
 A vague disquiet filled her after this, as she 
 knelt in her old place before the tabernacle. She
 
 336 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 was restless; she said the "Our Father" over and 
 over again; she looked up into the benignant face 
 of the Mother of God, the Mystical Rose; but she 
 had no words for her. 
 
 Her restlessness passed away after a time, and 
 a fresh breeze seemed to blow through her heart. 
 She arose, and, as she neared the confessional at 
 the end of the church she always passed it with 
 a certain sinking of the heart, she was amazed 
 to see Belinda examining it intently. Belinda 
 did not see her; she lifted the green baize curtain 
 with the air of one looking into a rattlesnake's 
 den. 
 
 "'Taint very comfortable," she murmured, 
 softly. "There ain't much luxury there, but a 
 person with a load on her mind ain't thinking 
 much of Brussels carpet and T)rocatelle furniture." 
 
 Poor Belinda sighed loudly, and, turning, saw 
 Eleanor -approaching. They went out into the 
 vestibule. 
 
 "I suppose you think it's queer to find me in a 
 Romish Church," said Belinda; "and I never 
 thought I'd come to it myself. But sorrow makes 
 strange companions. Your father's all right. 
 That trained nurse puts on a lot of airs; and, 
 as she has the doctor on her side, I just thought 
 I'd leave that poky little flat to her, and do a little 
 exploring on my own account. I tell you what, 
 Eleanor Redwood and you may give me notice
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 337 
 
 when you hear it, but I'll not leave, all the same, 
 I am going to confession." 
 
 Belinda stopped and clutched Eleanor's arm, 
 as if she expected her to faint at once. 
 
 "Did you hear what I said, Eleanor Redwood?" 
 
 Eleanorwas astonished and slightly frightened. 
 She had an uneasy feeling that Belinda had gone 
 mad. After reflecting a moment, her first impulse 
 was to coax her home and put her to bed. 
 
 "Belinda," she said, soothingly, "don't talk 
 that way. Let us go home. What would Mr. 
 Stokes say? What do you know about con- 
 fession?" 
 
 "Mr. Stokes!" said Belinda, with contempt. 
 "Why, he's the weak-mindedest creature I know. 
 It's my belief that when people have sons they 
 think will be a burden on the country, they try 
 to make ministers of them. I have pumped the 
 girl in the other flat about confession she's 
 Irish, but she can't be blamed for that and she's 
 told me all about it. And it's my belief it's 
 Scriptural. And though I couldn't accept all the 
 things the Papists swallow such as the worship 
 of graven images I'm going to confession." 
 
 Eleanor could think of no answer to this. Hap- 
 pily, she was saved from her embarrassment by 
 the appearance of Father Jackson. He entered 
 hastily from the street, gave a quick glance at the 
 two figures in the vestibule, and smilingly held 
 out his hand to Eleanor.
 
 338 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 "Miss Redwood," he said, "I have some work 
 for you. I have been on a sick call, and I 
 have just left a family that needs your help. 
 They haven't much to eat, I'm afraid; and the 
 mother is ill. Will you help them?" 
 
 "I'm opposed to beggars," snapped Belinda; 
 "and I don't believe in encouraging laziness. 
 Nobody need starve in America that wants to 
 work." 
 
 Father Jackson looked with a smile at Belinda's 
 rugged, honest and determined countenance; he 
 saw something good beyond the angularities. 
 
 "It's only Belinda," observed Eleanor, apolo- 
 getically. "She always says what she thinks." 
 
 "A bad habit," said Father Jackson, smiling in 
 a way that disarmed Belinda. "But she may say 
 anything she chooses after she has done something 
 to assist the poor little children in Cherry Street." 
 
 It was a hot day, one of those hot days in 
 early summer which burn and enervate the more 
 because the human race is unprepared for them. 
 Father Jackson took out his handkerchief and 
 wiped the perspiration from his forehead. Be- 
 linda's heart was further touched by the sight of 
 a small hole in the corner of the handkerchief. 
 
 "Poor young man!" she said to herself. "I 
 don't know what the Romish Church can be 
 thinking about to let its ministers go around in 
 that fashion. The Romish Church may despise
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 339 
 
 and downtread the female sex, but you can't have 
 whole pocket-handkerchiefs without 'em." 
 
 Father Jackson waited for her to say something, 
 with a humorous gleam in his eyes. As she was 
 silent, he turned to Eleanor. 
 
 " Will you see my poor people ? " 
 
 " Certainly, Father," she answered. 
 
 He scribbled an address on his card and gave it 
 to her. Then he began, with a smile : " And I 
 trust Miss Belinda 
 
 " I've never refused to do my duty, I hope," 
 said Belinda ; " not even when my conscience 
 didn't altogether approve. And if Eleanor Red- 
 wood trusts herself in the slums after pampered 
 paupers, I'm not going to leave her in the lurch." 
 
 " Thank you," said Father Jackson, relieved to 
 have these two interested in his charges ; for he 
 felt that he could trust them both. " And if I 
 can do anything for you 
 
 " Yes, you can," snapped Belinda ; " you can 
 hear my confession." 
 
 Father Jackson stepped back, amazed. "I 
 didn't know that you were a Catholic." 
 
 " No more I am. And I suppose what I'm 
 saying will make my poor father and mother turn 
 in their graves, but I can't help it; I've got to 
 have some comfort ; and if the Protestant religion 
 had provided it I wouldn't be traipesin' after 
 Romish priests at my age. It's all Martin Luther's
 
 340 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 fault, anyhow ; and if I'm doing wrong, he'll 
 suffer for it." 
 
 Father Jackson drew down the corners of his 
 mouth to prevent a smile. The mixture of seri- 
 ousness and grotes'queness in Belinda's attitude 
 toward religion had a certain element of humor in 
 it which he found hard to resist. 
 
 " If you will come into the parlor," he said, " I 
 shall be glad to talk to you a while on the most 
 important subject in this world or the next. I 
 have a spare half hour. And, Miss Redwood, as 
 you seem interested in the Church, I shall be glad 
 to give you some books. Come, my child," he 
 said to Belinda ; " I can see that you are suf- 
 fering." 
 
 Belinda looked embarrassed. To be called 
 " child " by one so much younger than herself 
 would have excited her indignation at any other 
 time ; but there was something in Father Jackson's 
 tone that made her feel very humble and meek. 
 
 " Indeed I am suffering, Mr. Jackson " 
 
 " Father," he said. 
 
 She hesitated, and then, in a low voice not 
 usual with her, she went on : " Yes, I am suffer- 
 ing, Father. But mind," she said, raising her 
 voice, " I don't want to be a Romanist ; I just 
 want to tell my sins and get rid of them." 
 
 " You want to get nearer to God, don't you " 
 
 " Oh, yes, oh, yes, / do ! " exclaimed Eleanor, 
 involuntarily.
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 341 
 
 " Then," answered the priest, with tender grav- 
 ity, " you want to be Catholics both of you." 
 
 Father Jackson led the way in silence through 
 the sacristy into the parlor of the rectory ; then he 
 disappeared for a few moments, leaving Eleanor 
 and Belinda seated on a sofa opposite an expres- 
 sive copy of Murillo's " Immaculate Conception." 
 Eleanor felt a strange timidity, a trembling, al- 
 most a fear ; until he came she fixed her eyes on 
 the upturned face of the Mother of God and 
 prayed without words, for she had never been 
 taught those words, fraught with all consolation, 
 with which the universal Church salutes the 
 Mother of God and asks her all-powerful interces- 
 sion. Father Jackson began very simply and 
 gently to teach Belinda that she could not go to 
 confession without becoming a Catholic. 
 
 When Eleanor and Belinda left the rectory, 
 they had made their first step toward the Light. 
 It was remarkable and Eleanor often thought it 
 so afterward that she and Belinda, each so 
 utterly different from the other, should become 
 one in hope and faith, drawn together by entirely 
 opposite motives. They went back to the flat in 
 silence, but Belinda had an air of cheerfulness 
 which for many years she had lacked. 
 
 u That priest," she said, " knows I'm a Martha. 
 He doesn't expect me to be flopping down on my 
 knees and singing hymns all day, when I've got
 
 342 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 the pots and pans to look after. I'll just do what 
 he says. God must have the heart of a good man 
 like that. I wish Mr. Stokes could hear him 
 talk." 
 
 The Judge was still resting when they reached 
 home. The nurse permitted Eleanor to kiss her 
 father's forehead in silence, but no word was al- 
 lowed to be spoken. 
 
 After a rather hasty dinner, Eleanor and Be- 
 linda, with the guidance of the servant upstairs, 
 with whom Belinda had formed an acquaintance- 
 ship, started toward Cherry Street. Eleanor pro- 
 vided herself with a bottle of cordial, some fruit, 
 and a number of clean towels ; and Belinda filled 
 a basket with an enormous currant cake baked in 
 the shape of a turban, around and in which she ar- 
 ranged a number of her justly famous cookies. It 
 had been understood that Father Jackson's clients 
 in Cherry Street were ill, and it was Belinda's 
 private opinion that no child could be ill enough 
 not to be restored by her cake. 
 
 It was a hot evening. The heat had descended 
 suddenly, as if a great cone had enclosed the 
 earth and shut off all ventilation. Had it been 
 the middle of August, the temperature would have 
 been more seasonable. As it was coming sud- 
 denly as it had, it was almost intolerable to 
 the people in the better parts of the city. Din- 
 ner parties were postponed because of it, and
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 343 
 
 dancing assemblies for that night were declared 
 out of the question. Belinda almost suffocated in 
 her best garments, in spite of the big palm-leaf 
 fan, elaborately trimmed around the border with 
 purple ribbon. 
 
 Their companion, the servant a young girl 
 recently " out " over whom Belinda had gained an 
 amazing influence in a short time, sat meekly on 
 the edge of the car seat, while the autocrat of the 
 kitchen explained in a loud voice her method of 
 making batter pudding without eggs. The tired 
 and heated faces in the car took on grins and 
 smiles as she proceeded solemnly and dogmatically, 
 as if she were giving her experience in " meeting "; 
 and Eleanor was startled when the newsboy who 
 passed through the car paused a moment and 
 chanted admiringly, with the indescribable Bowery 
 accent: " My ! isn't she a corker." 
 
 It happened that the young servant, Ann Rux- 
 ton, had relatives in Cherry Street, and she led 
 the way to it easily. Eleanor felt that it would 
 be a relief to leave the crowded car and to breathe 
 in the open air ; but the open air was stifling, and 
 the front of the tenement house the place indi- 
 cated by Father Jackson's address appalled her. 
 
 " Do these poor people live here always ? " she 
 asked of Ann Ruxton. 
 
 " Sure they do. Where else can they live ? " 
 asked the Irish girl. " I often do be wondering 
 why they don't starve at home in the fresh air."
 
 344 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 Belinda made no remark. The street, now in 
 twilight, actually swarmed with men, women and 
 children, in all positions. The children were in 
 all conditions of undress. The street was dark, 
 dirty, hot. The heat seemed to radiate from the 
 sidewalks and the murky bricks of the houses. 
 The steps of this special tenement were filled with 
 women and children. One poor woman with a 
 little child at her breast, lay with her back against 
 the sill of the open door, fairly gasping for breath. 
 The child was wailing in a way that went to El- 
 eanor's heart. The doorsteps along the row of 
 houses were crowded with human beings gasping 
 for air. Here were two women sociably sharing 
 the contents of a beer can and trying to drown 
 their discomfort with shrill laughter and slang. 
 
 Another woman, broom in hand, was cursing a 
 brood of children, half-dressed, who had rushed 
 out of the house, dripping with water, from a 
 bath in the sink. The fire-escapes were filled with 
 gasping people, whose only consolation seemed to 
 be the beer can, which circulated in all directions. 
 The cries of babies were heard on every side ; not 
 the cries of healthy children, but the long, low 
 wails continual, ceaseless of suffering. 
 
 Up the dark and dirty stairs Ann Ruxton led 
 the way, after several enquiries, very civilly an- 
 swered. At last they found themselves in a room 
 on the fourth floor, lit by a kerosene lamp, whose
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 345 
 
 light was much obscured by a dirty glass. At 
 first Eleanor did not discern who were in the room ; 
 as her eyes became habituated to the gloom, she 
 saw a woman of middle age, with her head on her 
 hand, seated near a mattress on the floor. The 
 room was without carpet; one chair, a table, a 
 stove, and a large clothes-basket, near which stood 
 a tub and washboard, made its equipment. In a 
 corner crouched two young girls, not over ten 
 years of age. Near them on the floor lay a young 
 man, in the striped " jumper " of a laborer of the 
 warehouses. He breathed heavily ; and Eleanor, 
 answering the greeting of the prematurely aged 
 woman, asked : " Is he sick ? " 
 
 " Sick ? " echoed the woman, bitterly. " Yes, 
 sick in his soul, sick with the drink. He was 
 a fine boy when I brought him to this country 
 God forgive me ! five years ago ; but you see 
 what he is now. Though he's my own son, I 
 sincerely wish Almighty God would take him 
 before he commits more sin." 
 
 Eleanor started, shocked by the mother's tone. 
 Belinda, with a glance of contempt at the prostrate 
 man, approached the mattress on which a small 
 object lay. The mother caught the glance and 
 resented it. 
 
 "He was once a good boy," she said; "and 
 maybe God will turn him against the drink yet, 
 for 'tis his only fault."
 
 34fi THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 The object on the bed was a little child. 
 Belinda raised the dingy lamp to look at it. It 
 was of a waxy paleness, fragile, attenuated ; and 
 the only sign of life it showed was the gasps it 
 made for air. 
 
 " Father Jackson sent us," Eleanor said. 
 
 " God bless him ! " answered the woman. " If 
 it hadn't been for him, I don't know how we'd 
 have got through the winter, with Jim out of 
 work most of the time, and the father's funeral 
 expenses to pay. The little girls there got their 
 shoes at the parochial school. We managed to 
 drag along somehow ; but now little Bride is sick, 
 and I've no strength left." 
 
 Eleanor gently raised the child's head. "A 
 week in the cool country air would bring the 
 little thing back to life. It must have air ! " she 
 exclaimed. 
 
 The mother shook her head despairingly. 
 Eleanor opened the window-shutters, and the 
 babel of noises in the street made its way into the 
 room. There were curses and outcries and 
 drunken laughter. 
 
 " I'm no worse off than the rest of us here. If 
 it's not heat it's cold," said the mother ; " though 
 more children die of the heat." 
 
 Eleanor, standing in the semi-gloom, in the 
 still, ill-smelling atmosphere of the room, felt that 
 she must stifle if she remained there. She spoke
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 347 
 
 to the little girls, who were half-asleep, but 
 restless. Belinda elbowed the mother aside, and 
 sent her out for water. The towels were very 
 useful now, and soon the little child ceased to 
 moan so piteously ; for Belinda's strong arms 
 gently held and fanned it. 
 
 " Thank you," said the mother, gratefully. 
 " I'd like to do what you have done, but what 
 with washing all day, and with the sorrow of 
 Jim's coming home, the life's just worn out of me." 
 
 Eleanor and Belinda did what they could, and 
 left Mrs. Green with a promise to return the next 
 day. And as they passed out through the streets, 
 hot, dirty, gloomy, reeking with misery, they were 
 silent. How little they in their quiet country 
 town had known of real wretchedness. 
 
 Eleanor did not return the next day. When 
 she reached home, the doctor met her at the door. 
 
 " Prepare yourself, Miss Redwood, for a great 
 change. Your father cannot live through the 
 night." 
 
 Eleanor did not answer. She had hoped and 
 feared, but she felt now that she had never feared 
 the worst. 
 
 " We hoped that one chance " the doctor 
 continued. She motioned him not to speak ; a 
 great sob burst from her. Death had come so 
 many times in the world, but it was as new and 
 awful as if it had come for the first time.
 
 348 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 " Father Jackson is with him," the doctor 
 added, after a while. " He asked for a priest, and 
 seemed to prefer him." 
 
 Eleanor went into the parlor, and stood near 
 the window. There was a murmuring in her 
 father's room, and she could see the light of a 
 candle through the crack of the sh'ding doors. 
 Belinda and her friend the servant were mercifully 
 silent. 
 
 After a time Father Jackson came out of the 
 room, and led Eleanor to her father's bedside. 
 The Judge looked very white and peaceful ; he 
 tried to smile as Eleanor entered. Then he 
 looked toward the crucifix ; and Eleanor, in a 
 sudden inspiration, took it from the table, and 
 held it before him. She kissed his hand, and he 
 raised it for a moment as if in blessing. Eleanor 
 fixed her eyes on the dear face. A tear the 
 first she had seen her father shed rolled down 
 his cheek, as he looked, with all his heart in his 
 eyes, at the figure of our Blessed Redeemer. 
 
 "I wish I had known," he murmured. 
 " Mother of God, pray " 
 
 The glitter of the tear in the light of the candle 
 seemed to absorb all the life of his eyes. He 
 turned toward Eleanor and was gone ; she was 
 alone.
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 349 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 The thoughts of the youth are the actions of the man. And 
 he who gives way to the counsels of the world many times in 
 small things, nnds it hard to resist the counsels of the devil in 
 great things. St. Maur. 
 
 WHILE Mrs. Desmond led her lonely life at 
 Redwood, living from day to day in the knowl- 
 edge that her son was not far from her, and 
 thankful that he was safe from the temptations of 
 a great city, at least for a time, Patrick was 
 absorbed in the excitement of watching Eleanor's 
 interests at the mines of Eaglescliff. He had not 
 heard from Eleanor since the brief line, written 
 by Mary Fitzgerald at her request, had announced 
 her father's death. He had cut loose entirely 
 from Miles ; and Nellie constantly bewailed the 
 ingratitude of the serpent she had nourished in 
 her flat, as she pathetically put it, on all the lux- 
 uries of the season. The truth was that Miles 
 scarcely needed a secretary, so idle and careless 
 had he become of late ; and Nellie was very glad 
 to explain the " failing through " of her visit to 
 Saratoga by declaring that Patrick's defection had 
 thrown so much work on her hands, that she was 
 actually prevented from entering the fashionable 
 whirl. She had become more and more devoted 
 to her friend the Baroness ; and Miles had been 
 presented to the ingenuous Mr. Bayard, who, with 
 his wiie, had made a flying visit to New York.
 
 350 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 Miles had a feverish period of activity during 
 Bayard's visit. Bayard had managed, by means 
 known only to himself at this time, to acquire a 
 major interest in a large number of Fly-Away 
 Mine shares ; and these he had sold to Miles, and 
 for them the latter had given all the money he 
 could beg or borrow. His borrowings were gen- 
 erally in small sums from comparatively poor con- 
 stituents ; they had gone into the coal-mine stock, 
 sold by Bayard because he needed the money. 
 Bayard sold all he could get, though the stock 
 was steadily going up. 
 
 Arthur Fitzgerald, who had gone back to New 
 York, was bitten by the craze for speculation. 
 He bought in the small interest his client had in 
 the mines, and, after the Judge's death, made 
 Desmond an offer for Eleanor's shares, an offer 
 which would have meant ruin for him and for 
 several of his friends had the mines failed. But 
 Desmond refused. He had begun to look on the 
 shares as his own. Arthur, inspired perhaps by 
 Mary, who had a womanly taste for match-making, 
 had hinted more than once to Desmond that he 
 had only to ask to be accepted. All men at Des- 
 mond's age have a fair share of vanity, more or 
 less tempered by good sense ; and so earnest was 
 Arthur's assurance, and so successful was Patrick 
 in the management of affairs at Eaglescliff, that 
 the latter felt justified in believing that Eleanor
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 351 
 
 would not refuse. And now there was no 
 obstacle. Eleanor was about to enter the Church, 
 and Dr. Talbot had thoroughly dissipated the fear 
 of his mother that there was insanity in her blood. 
 He now felt strong enough to overcome his 
 mother's opposition. 
 
 Several weeks of exciting work, mental and 
 physical, passed at Eaglescliff. There was only 
 one opinion in the place Patrick Desmond had 
 developed into a shrewd man of business ; his 
 opportunity had come, and he had seized it with 
 no uncertain grasp. It was generally said that he 
 would be a successful man. The lessons he had 
 learned daring his apprenticeship at Redwood 
 were useful to him now, and he put them into 
 practice. As yet he had not found out the mean- 
 ing of Bayard's telegram advising him to sell, 
 that telegram which he had read by accident. 
 In fact, he had forgotten it in the multitude of 
 anxieties. 
 
 Desmond was immersed in business thoughts; 
 he had no time for anything else. The thought 
 even of Eleanor was not what it had been at first. 
 It was not like a breeze over a field of fresh 
 flowers, calm and cool. It was not of reverence, 
 of doubt of his own worthiness, of the sweet 
 unreason of the love which Coventry Patmore 
 describes. There was reason enough in his mind 
 now. His marriage to Eleanor Redwood he
 
 352 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 felt that lie had a right to ask her, since he had 
 helped to save her property would realize all 
 his dreams. 
 
 After his day's work he betook himself to his 
 room at the hotel, and built castles in the air. 
 And these castles were not without foundation ; 
 for the Fly- Away Mines were gaining gradually 
 in public favor on the stock exchanges. Des- 
 mond's dreams were not of the kind of which 
 Jack Conlon would have approved. He planned 
 no great church now ; he never thought of the 
 problems which John Longworthy had touched 
 on in his book ; the condition of the Grogans and 
 the other people whom he had seen in New 
 York occupied him no more ; he had one object 
 in his mind, one question occupied him ; and this 
 question was : How to make money ? He read 
 with interest of the doings of the millionnaires as 
 chronicled in the New York and Chicago papers. 
 Some day he would be a millionnaire and become 
 all-powerful. He recalled some of Miles' cynical 
 sayings about the power of money, and gave 
 assent to them. Shylock's cry, in which he min- 
 gled his daughter and his ducats, was not alto- 
 gether foreign to Desmond's thoughts, though he 
 was no Shylock. Nevertheless, the question of 
 money had come to hold in his mind a place be- 
 side the question of love. If Eleanor had been 
 poor, he would have worked for her all his life
 
 fHE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 353 
 
 without the thought of sacrifice ; he would have 
 waited for her with the patience of Jacob, and 
 worked the while ; he would have grown purer 
 and manlier for the discipline of patience and 
 of labor. 
 
 As it was, Patrick Desmond was not the 
 Patrick Desmond of his mother's thoughts or of 
 Jack Conlon's hopes. He was neither mean nor 
 sordid, and yet the example of the Redwood 
 practices which meant that anything short of 
 legal robbery was fair had its effect on him. He 
 smiled a little at Jack Conlon's ideals when the 
 thought of them crossed his mind. How little 
 Jack knew of the trials and temptations of real 
 life. How little he knew of the tricks and 
 evasions and sharp turns by which a man, hand 
 to hand against the world, was obliged to resort 
 to if he would grow rich. Desmond found that, 
 by the careful use of a little money of his own, 
 he could do things that surprised him. He could 
 not buy a single share of the Fly-Away stock; 
 for nobody, except Bayard's friends and Fitzger- 
 ald's client, had sold out, and that had been done 
 very quietly. But he had quadrupled his money ; 
 and Arthur Fitzgerald had, by Eleanor's direction, 
 allowed him a liberal salary. Desmond looked 
 into a golden future, a future in which ho be- 
 held Self glorified. 
 
 His mother noticed a difference in him when.
 
 354 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 he came back to Redwood. He was impatient of 
 her simplicity ; she had come to love the poverty 
 he despised. Its shifts and ingenuities meant 
 independence to her. She loved the scarlet sage 
 which made a hedge between her yard and the 
 back street, the crab-apple tree which gave her 
 the famous preserve whose flavor she improved 
 every year, her old stove, and the rag carpet. 
 Desmond found all these badges of the poverty 
 of his youth intolerable. He was preoccupied; 
 he listened to her half-impatiently ; he sneered 
 at Mrs. Howard Sykes' brilliant turnout as it 
 scattered the dust ; he criticised the houses of the 
 great, and kept very much to himself. His mother 
 was jealous ; she attributed this change to Eleanor, 
 until she found, when he had gone, after a long, 
 dull Sunday, during which he had not disguised 
 his impatience to get away, many scraps of paper 
 covered with lead-pencilled figures. She shook 
 her head, but felt relieved that the magnet which 
 was attracting her boy was not the love of Eleanor 
 Redwood. 
 
 Bayard had returned to Redwood, leaving his 
 wife in New York. He hated Desmond, princi- 
 pally because he felt sure that he and Laura might 
 control Eleanor, now that the Judge was dead, if 
 Desmond did not stand in the way. Besides, 
 Desmond was associated in his mind with defeat. 
 It was his opinion that Desmond would marry
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATEICK DESMOND. 355 
 
 Eleanor, not for love, but for money ; and he 
 disliked bitterly the thought of a possible triumph 
 on Desmond's part. Again, he was ashamed of 
 his part in his wife's absurd plan for the marriage 
 of the Baroness and Desmond. Had it succeeded, 
 he would have had more shares to sell; he re- 
 gretted the shares, but he felt a sincere pleasure 
 in knowing that Desmond had not as yet con- 
 cluded to sell. Bayard feared that he might, 
 feared that he was only holding on for a grand 
 stroke, which would carry him aloft to fortune. 
 
 Desmond's manner to Bayard, when they hap- 
 pened to meet, was exasperatingly cold ; and one 
 day when Bayard had played a very clever and 
 shabby business trick, and boasted of it, Desmond 
 remembered the crumpled telegram which had 
 blown into the car window. He coolly alluded to 
 it ; he felt that he could afford to be insolent. 
 The other changed color ; he had trusted that it 
 had entirely escaped Desmond's memory. 
 
 " You will act on it, of course ? " he said. " It 
 was good advice then." 
 
 " And why not now?" Desmond asked, mock- 
 
 Bayard's face, always pale, became green; he 
 made a sudden resolution, and that day he sold 
 the few remaining shares he held. Having paid 
 back the money he had borrowed, he was comfort- 
 ably well off. He said to himself that now he
 
 356 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 could afford to be honest if it paid. The men 
 who had, under an unusual temptation to do so, 
 trusted him with their money, pocketed their 
 portion of the profits and felt no qualms of con- 
 science. They had completed a sharp business 
 transaction. When the truth came out, who 
 would condemn them? Not public opinion. Pub- 
 lic opinion had long ago settled that morality 
 in business was merely a matter of law, not 
 Christian law, but a different thing. There were 
 several men in Eaglescliff prominent men, lead- 
 ing citizens, members of churches who held 
 that Desmond was either a most daring young 
 man or a fool. But most people believed, as the 
 Fly-Away stock went steadily up, that Desmond 
 would be a millionnaire. That was his own belief, 
 too. 
 
 It was Bayard's opinion that Desmond would 
 sell out the shares when they had reached the 
 highest possible value. He cursed the ill-luck by 
 which Desmond had got hold of his telegram to 
 the Baroness. Bayard was safe enough himself 
 financially : Laura could enjoy herself in New 
 York for a time in her own way, and all her Red- 
 wood bills had been paid ; but he hated to think 
 that Desmond should profit by the new facts 
 brought out about the mines. Against Eleanor 
 he had no feeling, but he could not endure the 
 vision of Desmond's supremacy. He knew better
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 357 
 
 than any man the weakness of the mines ; he had 
 learned that, in spite of the recent discoveiy of 
 new beds of coal, the water surrounding the mines 
 was a constant menace. The oldest miners shook 
 their heads, and were careful not to strike too 
 deep into the walls on the water side. But Des- 
 mond, clever as he was, was not a miner ; and the 
 surface indications, the reports of those interested 
 in keeping the mines going, had weight with him. 
 The old miners did their work and said little ; as 
 long as the rats stayed they could stay. 
 
 In the meantime Desmond enjoyed immensely 
 the adulation he received. It seemed very easy 
 to rule the world; and his manner took an im- 
 portance which made Bayard wild with rage when 
 he met him. Patrick copied successfully and 
 perhaps unconsciously the manner of the rich 
 men of Redwood. People found no fault with 
 him for the assumption of a manner befitting his 
 station in life, but some privately bewailed the 
 blindness of Judge Redwood's daughter in giving 
 such an opportunity to one of the Irish from 
 " over the river." 
 
 Desmond had in his desk a standing offer for 
 all the shares he had, at the ruling price. All he 
 would have to do would be to send the message 
 " Sell " to Arthur Fitzgerald or his representative 
 in New York, and the shares would change hands 
 in less than half an hour. But Desmond had no
 
 358 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 intention of accepting this offer. He knew that 
 Arthur Fitzgerald wanted the shares badly ; but 
 he was determined to make them the first round 
 in a golden ladder which, mounted adroitly, would 
 make him the envy of all the men who had once 
 looked down on him. If Eleanor had alone been 
 concerned, he would probably have sold out the 
 shares, and put her money with Fitzgerald's 
 concurrence into property whose value would 
 fluctuate less. As it was, he had argued himself 
 into the belief that the stock would always be his 
 to manipulate he preferred to hold it. 
 
 Immediately after the Judge's death, Mary 
 Fitzgerald had obliged Eleanor and Belinda to 
 come to her. And in an atmosphere of the deep- 
 est sympathy Eleanor spent the earliest days of 
 her mourning. At first she did not realize what 
 had taken place ; her father was gone she knew 
 that, but she could not yet understand that he 
 was gone forever. The days of her childhood 
 came back to her again ; she lived in them ; a 
 hundred details of her father's tender love re- 
 curred to her. A figure passed the window, a 
 footstep sounded. Surely it was he ! And then 
 came the great sense of loss. In consoling Elea- 
 nor, Mary almost forgot her solicitude for Miles ; 
 nobody could have done the work more effectu- 
 ally, as far as it could be done ; but there was 
 a point to which no human consolation could 
 reach.
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 359 
 
 " At least I can pray for him ! " Eleanor ex- 
 claimed one day. And when she had realized this, 
 Father Jackson needed to argue with her no more : 
 she glided, as it were, into the Church. 
 
 When Eleanor had begun again to take an 
 interest in ordinary affaire, she heard one day, by 
 chance, at the table, that Desmond had refused to 
 sell Arthur Fitzgerald the shares he coveted ; and 
 Arthur congratulated her on having such a care- 
 ful agent. Later she asked Mary if her husband 
 would be made very happy if she sold him all 
 or a part of the shares. Mary had not answered 
 at once. Then she had said : 
 
 " It is better to leave these matters to the men, 
 my dear. Mr. Desmond knows best what is for 
 your interest." 
 
 " And Az's," she added in her mind, but she did 
 not speak it. 
 
 Eleanor thought it over ; and on the day before 
 the great storm that swept over the Atlantic 
 coast and made an epoch from which many people 
 date events, she came to the conclusion to instruct 
 Desmond to sell the shares. She was not a woman 
 of business, but a woman of gratitude. What 
 difference did it make to her now whether she 
 were rich or not ? And surely Mary Fitzgerald's 
 husband deserved all the kindness she could show 
 him. In the afternoon, just as she was about 
 to go to the telegraph office with her message 
 to Desmond, Laura Bayard sent up her card.
 
 360 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 Mrs. Bayard was a new woman. The rather 
 loud and gushing Redwood manner had been re- 
 placed by a reserve which went well with a care- 
 ful manner of dress, free from the colors in which 
 she had delighted at home. The blackened eye- 
 brows and the too-golden hair were there, but 
 Eleanor saw a look of true sympathy in her eyes ; 
 and there was silence. Eleanor could not speak ; 
 for this woman had been a little girl with her and 
 shared her dear father's care. Laura wiped a 
 tear hastily under her veil. 
 
 " I come to ask you a favor," Laura said. " But 
 first I must ask you to keep the nature of my 
 errand a secret don't be afraid : it concerns 
 only yourself." 
 
 Eleanor, softened by the sight of her old friend, 
 easily promised. 
 
 " I want you, Eleanor, to sell your stock in the 
 Fly- A way Mines as soon as possible ; Harry has 
 sold his. He is in possession of information 
 exclusive information, and he knows that in 
 a short time they will be worthless. I have al- 
 ways liked you, Eleanor, and your father dear 
 old Judge ! was always good to me. For old 
 friendship's sake I have come to you, though if 
 Harry knew it he would almost kill me. He 
 thinks but never mind what he thinks. Take 
 my word, Eleanor, and get all you can for the 
 stock at once."
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 361 
 
 Eleanor was silent for a time. "You have 
 done me a great kindness, Laura," she said, in the 
 quiet, low tone which had become habitual to her 
 of late. " But are you sure " 
 
 " Sure ! " exclaimed Laura. " I am certain and 
 positive of the truth of what I say. To save you, 
 I have betrayed Harry's confidence in. me. He 
 has no grudge against you, but he absolutely 
 hates Mr. Desmond." 
 
 " But how can it affect Mr. Desmond ? " 
 
 Mrs. Bayard smiled. How demure these quiet 
 people could be, she thought. Eleanor was too 
 greatly occupied to notice the smile. 
 
 " I advise you to sell ; that is all," Laura said. 
 
 Eleanor thanked her. The talk drifted to the 
 old days ; and when Laura Bayard left, she con- 
 gratulated herself on having done a good action 
 and made sure of Eleanor's gratitude, should her 
 husband's present prosperity prove fleeting. 
 
 Eleanor did not send the telegram ; a little later 
 in the day she went to the rectory with Belinda, 
 who was temporarily subdued, for the usual in- 
 struction from Father Jackson. She determined 
 to ask him what she should do, as the case stood. 
 But he was summoned to a sick call. She made 
 her third visit to the Blessed Sacrament, and 
 stopped at the telegraph office on her way home, 
 she wrote :
 
 362 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 To PATRICK DESMOND, Eaglescliff. 
 Whatever happens, do not sell shares. 
 
 ELEANOR REDWOOD. 
 
 " A night message ? " the clerk asked. 
 
 Belinda interposed. " Of course ! " she snapped. 
 " It's twenty cents cheaper. Do you want to rob 
 people with your day messages ? " 
 
 " It will not reach him until eight o'clock to- 
 morrow morning." 
 
 " That will be time enough," responded Belinda. 
 Eleanor did not think so. 
 
 It was the last message that went to Eagles- 
 cliff that night. An hour later the storm burst, 
 and every telegraph wire around Eaglescliff was 
 down. An hour before, Arthur Fitzgerald had 
 telegraphed to Desmond hir highest offer.
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 Success means not what a man gets, but the attainment of 
 what he wants to get. Paradoxes of a Philosopher. 
 
 THE sunset was magnificent and the air was 
 still and clear. The weather had been dry for 
 many days; the leaves rustled, but the keen ear 
 could detect in their rustle a different sound from 
 that of early summer : it was sharper ; they rasped 
 rather than rustled. Perhaps the extreme dry- 
 ness of the soil and the trees and the hedges 
 the appearance of anxious waiting which nature 
 puts on in times of drought had something 
 to do with the restless anxiety of Patrick's mind 
 on the evening before the great storm. 
 
 He had returned from supper, which he had 
 enjoyed in company with Mr. Stokes, who had 
 come over to Eaglescliff on a short visit to his 
 uncle, one of the merchants of the town. This 
 uncle was a leading member of the Baptist 
 Church, and he had argued forcibly with his 
 nephew on the absurdity of his giving up the 
 ministry. 
 
 Patrick, reasonably content (if it were not for 
 this strange restlessness which seemed to be in the 
 air), well dressed, handsome, made a marked 
 contrast to the dispirited Mr. Stokes, whose 
 " waterfall," as schoolboys used to call the glossy
 
 364 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 circle of hair on his forehead, was unkempt and 
 straggling, and whose lank duster and soiled blue 
 tie reflected the struggles of his mind. Patrick 
 caught the glance of his soft, appealing eyes as he 
 passed him in the street, and he invited his limp 
 friend to share his frugal hotel supper, which 
 consisted of a number of dabs of various indigesti- 
 ble compounds set out on little saucers. 
 
 The repast was not inspiring, nor were the 
 hotel surroundings. The dim kerosene lamps, the 
 paper of the day before yesterday, the fly-blown 
 advertisements on the walls, and the rickety tables 
 with horrible pens with which no man could write, 
 seemed calculated to drive the low-spirited guest 
 to drink. Desmond asked Mr. Stokes to his little 
 office, which was more comfortable than the com- 
 mon room of the khan. 
 
 Desmond's office was furnished with three 
 chairs, a desk, a telephone, and a pile of pamph- 
 lets and newspapers on the window-sill. It would 
 be dreary enough in the light of the usual kerosene 
 lamp; but the sunset, marvellous in luminous 
 colors, and tints of dark-purple flashed with red 
 gold, in a lake of the palest green, illuminated 
 the place and filled the large window. All the 
 ragged edges of daily life were concealed by the il- 
 lusion ; even the particles of metallic dust on the 
 pamphlets in the window-sill shot out little gleams 
 of radiance.
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 365 
 
 Mr. Stokes, who had taken one of the chairs, 
 sighed, while Desmond went to the window to 
 read Eleanor's telegram, which had just arrived. 
 
 " It's all right," he remarked, dismissing the boy 
 who had brought the message. " Sell ! " he said 
 to himself, with a little chuckle. " I have no 
 intention of selling. It would be suicide to sell 
 shares in Fly- Away just now. But women like 
 to give advice, and I suppose one must pretend 
 to take it." 
 
 And he folded the telegram tenderly and put 
 it into his waistcoat pocket, forgetting for the 
 moment that Eleanor herself had not written that 
 precious signature with her own hands. 
 
 Mr. Stokes sighed again. 
 
 " Why, what's the matter ? " Desmond asked, 
 turning from the sunset. 
 
 " Oh ! I am wretched," he answered. " I'm 
 in what they call a no-thoroughfare. My uncle 
 says I am a fool, and that I ought to go in 
 and be a minister. He wouldn't help toward my 
 college expenses before, but he says that he'll see 
 me through now, because I'm not fit for anything 
 else." 
 
 Desmond laughed. " I don't think he means 
 it, Stokes. I'm sure he wouldn't have you be a 
 hypocrite." 
 
 " He says I'm not practical, and that the min- 
 istry is the only place open to a man that's not
 
 366 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 practical. He says I needn't expect to make 
 money in the ministry, that's out of the ques- 
 tion, unless I develop a great gift for preaching. 
 He says that religion is a matter of sixteen ounces 
 to the pound, and that nobody believes much 
 more than that nowadays " 
 
 " And most of them don't believe that," inter- 
 rupted Desmond, with another laugh. " If a man 
 doesn't believe in heaven or hell, he'll find it much 
 easier to give twelve ounces to the pound, pro- 
 vided he can keep out of the penitentiary." 
 
 " Dogmas have got to go," said Mr. Stokes ; 
 " and yet I don't see how morality can be kept 
 up without them. But my uncle says that if a 
 Baptist believes in immersion, people are not likely 
 to ask questions about his other beliefs, and by 
 and by he'll work into the respectable beliefs. 
 ' Believe,' my uncle said, ' that you've got to hold 
 your head up in the town you live in, and don't 
 bother yourself about the Presbyterians or the 
 Revised Version, or Probation. But,' he added, 
 ' if I had my way, I'd go in for Probation after 
 death, and the salvation of all the heathen, be- 
 cause I don't like to see money going out of the 
 country.' ' 
 
 " He is a practical man," Desmond remarked, 
 with a smile. " But I say, Stokes, why don't you 
 examine the doctrines of the Catholic Church?" 
 
 " I never thought of it," answered Mr. Stokes ;
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICE: DESMOND. 367 
 
 " and I should not like to. You see, if I became 
 a Catholic, nobody would speak to me except 
 yourself. And it would give our college a bad 
 name to have turned out a Catholic." 
 
 Desmond looked at him in amazement. " But 
 you are on the road to infidelity now. Isn't that 
 Avorse ? " 
 
 " Not infidelity," said Mr. Stokes, drawing his 
 limp duster about him, and stretching himself out, 
 so that his feet rested comfortably on the other 
 chair. " I'm a little broad in my opinions, but it 
 takes a great deal of breadth to be considered an 
 infidel by Protestants nowadays. We are more 
 tolerant than you are in these matters. I am 
 much attracted by Buddhism; there's so much 
 color in it. And, then, the nirvdna, and the 
 golden lotus, it's very sweet. Mrs. Bayard has 
 a sister, the Baroness Something or Other, who is 
 about to adopt Buddhism, and preach it in New 
 York with musical accompaniments. Mrs. Bay- 
 ard, to whom I spoke of my doubts, said I might 
 make a very good living by assisting as a neophyte 
 at her sister's seances, if I could get myself to 
 believe in the nirvdna and metempsychosis." 
 
 " Stokes," returned Desmond, " you're a fool. 
 You refuse to accept the divine beliefs of Christi- 
 anity I mean such as your mutilated religion 
 has preserved for you, and yet propose to 
 swallow the absurdities of an outworn, selfish and 
 barbarous religion."
 
 368 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICE DESMOND. 
 
 " I am not any more of a fool than you are," 
 said Mr. Stokes, in his meek voice, but with a 
 certain decision. " Buddhism attracts me ; New 
 York attracts me ; I can accept Buddhism with as 
 much faith as I have in anything, as I am assured 
 that I can earn a living without those exertions 
 which my education has made me incapable of. 
 I am honest so far, I can say honestly, too, that I 
 think I would examine the doctrines of your 
 Church whether I should have the courage to 
 accept them or not, had I not watched you 
 closely of late." 
 
 " Me ! " asked his companion, with a start. 
 And what " 
 
 " Yes, yow," said Mr. Stokes, rising, and deftly 
 lighting the kerosene lamp, for the sunset had 
 disappeared. " You profess to believe everything 
 that the Bible teaches you are a more literal 
 believer in the Bible than any Protestant I 
 know, and you make pretentious of self-sacri- 
 fice and charity, and you are supposed to live up 
 to your belief. I know what you believe. I've 
 gotten beyond the old frauds about Popish igno- 
 rance and that sort of thing. Now, I've watched 
 you and heard about you of late very much ; and 
 I see plainly that your religion, supposed to be 
 so spiritual, has very little to do with your daily 
 life. 
 
 Patrick's hands trembled as he drew down the
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 369 
 
 shade. Was this true ? Was he, who, above all, 
 prided himself on being the staunchest of Catho- 
 lics, falling below himself ? Nevertheless, he was 
 angry with Mr. Stokes, and he did not speak. 
 
 "You live to make money only to make 
 money," went on Mr. Stokes. " You dream of 
 making money ; you think of making money. You 
 are one man on Saturday, another on Sunday. 
 You would beggar a man, according to your busi- 
 ness principles, on Saturday, and toss him a dollar, 
 according to your religious principles, on Sunday. 
 You will take something for nothing by a busi- 
 ness trick, and defend it on business principles. 
 Everybody praises you because you are making 
 the most of your talents ; you will grow rich on 
 business principles, which to my mind are not 
 those which your priest preaches and reads from 
 the pulpit. I watched you," said Mr. Stokes, 
 with a break in his voice, " for a long time. The 
 Patrick Desmond of Redwood, so upright, so 
 sincere, so firmly practical in applying his reli- 
 gion, almost made me desire to be of the faith 
 which had made him such as he was, and to be 
 like him. I would have braved public opinion. 
 I see now, by your example, that dogmas are 
 inadequate to influence men, when they have so 
 failed in your case." 
 
 " You do not judge me fairly," said Desmond, 
 in a low voice, having lost all his anger. " I act
 
 370 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 according to the lessons I have been taught in 
 business ; I act as other men who desire to be 
 rich " 
 
 " I know you do. But if men who hold dearest 
 a religion with such claims as yours act merely as 
 other men, you cannot blame us, who are not so 
 supported, for turning from it." 
 
 Patrick's anger rose again. " I am not my 
 brother's keeper. Your convictions should not 
 hinge on my actions." 
 
 " No," returned Mr. Stokes, wearily ; " perhaps 
 not. But example in your case has had much to 
 do with mine. I shall go to New York and put 
 money in my purse, as you are doing. But don't 
 take such a high ground. If you were offered a 
 thousand dollars for a thing you knew was use- 
 less, you would sell it, and do a good stroke of 
 business. Come we will not quarrel ; here is 
 Bayard." 
 
 The door opened and Harry Bayard entered. 
 Mr. Bayard looked close at Desmond. The 
 former's face was as white as usual and his eyes 
 as furtive, but there was the complacent expression 
 of prosperity about him. 
 
 "May I use your telephone, Mr. Desmond?" 
 he asked. " You are lucky enough to have the 
 only one in town, and I want to speak to the 
 baggage-master at Redwood." 
 
 " Certainly," Desmond said, picking up a pamph-
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 371 
 
 let to avoid looking at Bayard ; he had an invol- 
 untary antipathy to the sight of this pale, smooth- 
 talking, furtive creature ; and, besides, like most 
 people in Redwood, he had heard rumors. 
 
 Bayard telephoned to the baggage-master a 
 message about a piano which was to go to New 
 York as freight ; but he took a long time about At, 
 and there was much ringing of bells. 
 
 " You may not be youi brother's keeper," whis- 
 pered Mr. Stokes, "and religion may not be a 
 matter of example " he paused, for Bayard's 
 hallooing and ringing had ceased for a moment. 
 He went on when Bayard had begun to ring 
 again, and there was a touch of bitterness in his 
 tone, " But I can tell you that even if Eleanor 
 Redwood was attracted by the sincerity of the 
 Desmond of the spring, she will not admire the 
 clever business Desmond of the summer." 
 
 A glint of humor shone in Desmond's eyes. 
 "Oh! that's it, is it, Stokes?" he said. "I 
 see." 
 
 Mr. Stokes smarted under the glance and 
 turned pale ; his secret was revealed. He said 
 nothing, but at that moment he hated Desmond. 
 
 " It will be a nasty night," said Bayard, com- 
 ing from the telephone box and trying to light his 
 cigar over the blackened glass of the lamp ; while 
 he watched Desmond's face, on which Mr. Stokes' 
 words had left a trace of dejection. " He has
 
 372 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DfiSMOND. 
 
 heard bad news;" said Bayard to himself, "he 
 will sell as soon as he can. I had better hurry up 
 matters. Listen to that ! " he remarked aloud. 
 The wind was sweeping around the house like 
 some huge winged being fleeing from an enemy. 
 " Good-night ! " he said. 
 
 Mr. Stokes said good-night too ; he thought he 
 would go to the hotel before the storm broke. 
 Bayard took his arm, and they walked toward the 
 chain of lakes, the first of which lashed the shore 
 furiously. 
 
 " Come, take a walk, Stokes," Bayard said ; 
 " this wind is exhilarating, and the rain will not 
 come for some time." 
 
 Mr. Stokes' duster flapped and floated about 
 him, and he had to hold his hat on. The wind 
 was exhilarating ; it seemed to blow his thoughts 
 away. 
 
 " Desmond is in a bad humor to-night," ob- 
 served Bayard. 
 
 " Yes," said Stokes, on his guard. 
 
 "Bad news; stocks and investments trouble 
 him since he has got into business. Put a beggar 
 on horseback, you know " and Bayard laughed 
 in his high treble. 
 
 " Perhaps so," said Stokes. " I don't know any- 
 thing about business." 
 
 They had reached one of the entrances to the 
 Fly- Away Mines, one near the lake, and sel- 
 dom used except by the inspectors and owners.
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 373 
 
 " There's nothing wrong with the mines," Bay- 
 ard went on. " Does he think there is ? " 
 
 " I don't know," answered Mr. Stokes. 
 
 Bayard took a key from his pocket and opened 
 the rickety wooden door of the frame structure, 
 that covered a rather primitive windlass. Mr. 
 Stokes followed him with a certain curiosity. 
 
 " Since Mr. Desmond is anxious about the 
 mine, I'd better drop down to the first gallery 
 and see that eveiything is right on this side. 
 Will you manage the windlass ? " 
 
 Mr. Stokes had no objections ; just then he had 
 no objection to anything. He took the rough 
 wooden handle in his grip. Bayard took a pick- 
 axe and a miner's hat and lamp, and entered the 
 primitive cage, used only for this short distance 
 trip. 
 
 " Lower ! " 
 
 Down he went, the thick wire rope creaking 
 and Mr. Stokes' arms aching. Nevertheless, the 
 exercise did him good : it eased his restlessness ; 
 it would be easier to draw Bayard up, since he 
 could help himself by using another rope, hand 
 over hand, he reflected. 
 
 Having reached the first gallery in the new part 
 of the mine, Bayard sounded the black wall with 
 his pick. " In three days the lake will be in," he 
 said ; " but he may sell before that. A few 
 strokes, and, with the help of the storm, it will be 
 hi to-night."
 
 374 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 One could hear the lake, aroused and strong, 
 palpitating against the wall. The rays from the 
 lamp in his hat fell on the glossy black lumps 
 around him. He raised the pick and tapped 
 the wall. The sound in one place satisfied him ; 
 he gave half a dozen strong strokes at the wall. 
 Then he pulled the- rope ; the windlass creaked, 
 and in five minutes he stood beside Mr. Stokes. 
 He was paler than usual, and sweat poured from 
 his forehead. 
 
 " Everything is right," he said. " Desmond 
 need have no fear. They distrusted my report 
 of the first disaster, though I know these mines 
 like a book better than the owners do," he 
 added, with a short laugh. " Go up and con- 
 gratulate Desmond." 
 
 " I will," replied Stokes, anxious to be alone 
 with his thoughts, " when it stops raining." 
 
 " Do," Bayard went on, smiling in the darkness. 
 " Tell him I said that there's no danger ; or, better, 
 say you've been here and seen that there's no dan- 
 ger in the mines, and this one is the weakest." 
 
 " I will," said Stokes, " after a while." 
 
 Bayard grinning to himself at this delicate 
 stroke, said good-night. He would not lock the 
 door : Mr. Stokes might stay in the shed as long 
 as he liked. 
 
 The wind and the ram rushed together, like 
 opposing armies ; the uproar was deafening. Mr,
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 375 
 
 Stokes closed the door after Bayard had gone. 
 The tempest without soothed him ; it was delight- 
 ful to his weak nature to know that there was 
 such strength in the world. He closed the door 
 tight, and in his idleness let down the cage into 
 the depths ; he pulled it up easily. As he did so 
 slimy, soft bodies brushed against his knees and 
 dropped upon his feet. There seemed to be many 
 of them. He lowered the lamp. Rats, squealing 
 with fright as the light struck them, were rushing 
 against the wooden walls as if for refuge. They 
 had come up from the mine ; he knew what that 
 meant, and listened. There was a rush of waters 
 beneath ; he could hear the roar. He felt the 
 cage with his hand : it was wet. He looked out 
 into the night : all nature seemed in anarchy. 
 Never mind, he would have the satisfaction of 
 telling Patrick Desmond that his hopes were vain, 
 that he was a beggar again, no better off in the 
 world's eyes than " the fool," Stokes. 
 
 He rushed through the storm to Desmond's 
 office. It was warm and light ; for Desmond had 
 built a fire in the rusty grate, not caring to face 
 the rain and wind outside. What a storm it was. 
 The world seemed tottering. 
 
 Mr. Stokes rushed into the room, his linen coat 
 clinging to him and his straw hat drooping over 
 his face. Patrick lay on the three chairs, dozing. 
 Mr. Stokes touched his elbow, and he jumped
 
 376 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 to his feet. Then Stokes, not with eagerness now, 
 but with a certain regret, told him the truth. 
 Desmond, in his light coat, ran with the wind 
 to the entrance of the mine near the lake. He 
 saw the waters meant ruin ; what could be done 
 on such a night? What could be done at any- 
 time, with the lake galloping into the mines ? 
 He ran back to his office, battling with the wind. 
 He telephoned to the telegraph office ; the answer 
 came : all the wires to New York were down. 
 
 " I am ruined," he said, grimly, to Mr. Stokes. 
 "Eleanor Redwood is no longer a rich woman. 
 The wires are all down and I cannot sell the 
 stock. If I could only reach the Hoffmann 
 House, New York, I need nob sell to Fitzgerald, 
 for he is a friend ; there's a man at the Hoffmann 
 House who would buy at once, if I could reach 
 him." 
 
 He spoke as if to himself, and mumbled inco- 
 herently. He tried to ring up the telephone 
 operator at Redwood. Yes ; all was lost. His 
 castles in Spain were down ; no riches, no power 
 for him ; Eleanor and he would both be beggars. 
 
 " Do not sell," she had wired. What differ 
 ence did that make ? He must sell those shares 
 before daylight or perish. 
 
 The telephone bell sounded. Mr. Stokes 
 watched Desmond with an odd smile on his 
 wet face, as he stood dripping in the middle of
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 377 
 
 a pool of rain-water. The operator at Redwood 
 announced that one wire from that town to New 
 York was safe. He had a message for Desmond. 
 The broker at the Hoffmann House could sell the 
 shares at once, at one per cent, increase on his 
 offer of the morning. 
 
 " Thank God ! " Desmond exclaimed. 
 
 Then like a flash came the question (the result, 
 at this crisis in his life, of years of good training 
 and pure thoughts) : For what was he thanking 
 God the God of charity ? His conscience an- 
 swered at once : He was thanking God for a 
 victim whom he would ruin, to whom he would 
 sell something for nothing, save himself from 
 poverty, and keep Eleanor rich against her will. 
 His mother rose before his mind. Would she 
 exchange her worn shawl and her poor little house 
 for riches won in this way ? Would she not call 
 his thanking God a horrible blasphemy? But 
 success, power, money, a great house, luxury, 
 everything that the men around him valued, were 
 in his grasp. And would not Eleanor thank him 
 for it later ? She was a woman, after all ; and 
 fond of diamonds and rich dresses, as all women, 
 except his mother, were. 
 
 " The wire is waiting. Will take your mes- 
 sage, broker waiting," telephoned the operator 
 at Redwood. 
 
 " O, Mother of God ! " Desmond cried, between
 
 378 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 his teeth. Perhaps the mines could be saved ; 
 he did not know they were utterly ruined, a voice 
 said. But he flung it back ; he did know that 
 they were ruined, for the lake mine was the key of 
 the rest. Mr. Stokes, forgetting his drenched 
 condition, gazed at Desmond with intense eyes ; he 
 understood the struggle as well as if he saw it. 
 
 " No message to-night," Desmond said, grimly ; 
 and he rang the bell. 
 
 The bell was rung furiously from Redwood 
 again. "Did you say no message?" asked the 
 operator. 
 
 "None," Patrick answered, as firmly as before. 
 
 A quarter of an hour passed. Desmond had 
 forgotten Mr. Stokes who had sat down near the 
 fire. The bell rang again. Desmond answered : 
 " I told you I had no message." 
 
 " It wouldn't make much difference if you had 
 now ; " was the reply, " the New York wire is 
 down." 
 
 "I am glad of it," said the young man, half- 
 aloud. 
 
 Mr. Stokes went up and took his right hand: 
 *' I take back what I said. Your religion is the 
 strongest thing in life, stronger than life ; it 
 works miracles." 
 
 Patrick was white, and dark circles had come 
 beneath his eyes. " Yes, I know," he answered, 
 speaking more to himself than to Mr. Stokes.
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 379 
 
 " But I am a failure, all the same. No ; " he 
 added, with a gleam of light in his eyes, "I have 
 succeeded, because I am what I wanted most of all 
 to be an honest man." 
 
 Mr. Stokes stole away. And in the morning, 
 when Patrick awoke, the Fly-Away Mine stock 
 was a drug in the market. But he said his 
 prayers with a clean heart, and he felt that no 
 glance of his mother or of Eleanor could ever 
 reproach him now ; he could look the world in the 
 faoe, even though it might call him - failure.
 
 380 THE SUCCESS OP PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 " A ministering angel ? " 
 
 THE New York papers on the morning after the 
 storm, were filled with telegrams from all over the 
 country. Great had been the damage, great was 
 the suffering brought about by this war of the ele- 
 ments ; and Mary Fitzgerald felt almost ashamed 
 of her own grief over certain double-headed para- 
 graphs as she read the record of loss by wind and 
 wave. Eleanor had not come back from early 
 Mass. She and Belinda were to be received intc 
 the Church in a week's time. Belinda was clat- 
 tering about in the kitchen. She couldn't get used 
 to going to church on week days. " It seems a 
 waste of time," she said. Arthur gave Mary The, 
 Sun from his bundle of papers, and there she read 
 of the disaster to the Fly- A way Mines, 
 
 "Poor Miles! Poor Eleanor!" she said. "O, 
 Arthur, Miles is ruined ! " 
 
 " Miles ? " repeated Arthur. " Oh ! is he ? I be- 
 lieve I did hear that he had shares in that con- 
 founded swindle, mines so near a lot of lakes 
 are nothing but a swindle. Mary," he added, 
 changing his tone, " If Patrick Desmond had sold 
 me all the shares I wanted, I should be a beggar 
 this morning." 
 
 Mary looked at him with tears in her eyes.
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 381 
 
 "But Miles is worse than a beggar: he owes 
 everybody. We could endure being poor," she 
 said, " we have so much to make us happy. But 
 poor Miles ! " 
 
 Arthur jingled his spoon on his saucer impa- 
 tiently. He was, as a rule, silent when Mary la- 
 mented over Miles. 
 
 " I don't know what will become of him now. 
 He has been accustomed to money, too ; poverty 
 is always harder on people of that sort. What can 
 he do?" 
 
 " Go to Canada, I suppose. He will, at least, 
 be out of the way and out of politics," murmured 
 A rthur. " It is strange, Mary, that you have no 
 word of gratitude for my for our escape ; for it 
 is clear from the telegrams that the disaster is 
 irretrievable. And think of poor Miss Redwood 
 and Desmond." 
 
 " It is sad," answered Mary ; " and I am glad, 
 too, Arthur, on our account. But Mr. Desmond 
 and Eleanor are young and hopeful; they have 
 not been taken care of all their lives as Miles has. 
 He," she went on, seeing a frown on her husband's 
 brow, " has a peculiar temperament ; he always had 
 from his boyhood." 
 
 Arthur hid his face in a huge mustache cup, in 
 which his coffee was generally served. 
 
 " I must go to see him immediately after break- 
 fast. I hope you will come with me ; it might
 
 382 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 encourage Miles, and we might think of some way 
 to help him. 
 
 " No," replied Arthur, briefly, putting down his 
 cup. 
 
 Mary looked at him in amazement ; he was not 
 in the habit of saying " No " to her in that tone. 
 
 " And we can cable to the Longworthys. They 
 are in Munich." 
 
 " No," repeated Arthur. " I shall wash my 
 hands of Miles, Mary. Let him live his own life." 
 
 Mary turned her face from her husband and 
 rested her head on her hand. It was a very 
 pathetic action, habitual to her in moments of 
 keen distress. It went to Arthur's heart, but he 
 was silent ; he could not forgive at once Mary's 
 lack of sympathy with him in his joy at having 
 escaped from ruin. 
 
 " If I could help Desmond, I would and I 
 will," he went on, with some bitterness in his 
 tone. "He has worked hard and faithfully." 
 
 Mary tried to restrain her tears. " If you had 
 brothers and sisters, Arthur," she said, "you 
 would understand what I mean how I feel. I 
 rejoice with you, of course ; but it breaks my 
 heart to think of poor Miles, after all his strug- 
 gles. And dear little Miley." 
 
 "And poor Nellie," added Arthur with a 
 touch of malice. 
 
 " Nellie has been used to the hardships of life ; 
 she has not Miles' temperament."
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 383 
 
 " Oh ! " said Arthur, rising from the table, " I 
 must go." 
 
 And off he went, leaving Mary divided between 
 regret that she had not said good-by more affec- 
 tionately, and grief over the misfortunes of her 
 brother. Arthur Fitzgerald was a dissatisfied man 
 during that day, although his friends congratulated 
 him on his " level-headedness " in keeping clear 
 of the Fly- A way stock ; and said pleasant things 
 about his being a young Hannibal of finance. 
 
 As for Mary, she cried and waited for Eleanor. 
 When Eleanor came, rosy from her walk, and more 
 cheerful than she had been for many days, Mary 
 broke the news to her. 
 
 " It's too bad ! Oh ! it reconciles me to dear 
 papa's death to know that this did not happen 
 before," she said, looking brightly into Mary's 
 face. " As for me, I have enough for the present, 
 though you you wicked woman, have de- 
 stroyed all my hopes of earning anything by my 
 art." 
 
 Maiy was astonished at this coolness. If dear 
 Miles could only feel the same way. " And Mr. 
 Desmond," she said, with a little hesitation. 
 
 " He will not like it, he has worked so hard. I 
 suppose he will come to talk it over. I have had 
 a talk with Father Jackson this morning, and 
 made a resolution ; or rather, a resolution came to 
 me," she went on. " But I'll not speak of it 
 now something is worrying you, dear."
 
 384 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 "Yes," Mary said, giving Eleanor her coffee. 
 " I am Miles' only friend all he has in the 
 world." 
 
 " There is his wife," suggested Eleanor. 
 
 "His wife ! " said Mary, with more scorn than 
 one would have thought her gentle nature capable 
 of. " His wife ! What does she know about the 
 peculiarities of his nature? How can she under- 
 stand him ? Why, Eleanor Redwood, I brought 
 him up he was my mother's legacy to me. She 
 let him go into this foolish mining business " 
 
 "And you would have 'let' Arthur do it," 
 observed Eleanor, gravely and directly. 
 
 " Oh ! Arthur is able to take care of himself," 
 said Mary ; " Miles never was. I am his only 
 friend. I must see him this morning. Will you 
 come ? " 
 
 " With pleasure," Eleanor answered. " But 
 wait till I put on an older dress. It's raining ; 
 and now that I am poor again, I can't wear my 
 clothes so extravagantly." 
 
 During the interval Mary forgot Miles and 
 wondered at Eleanor's coolness ; for she had read 
 to her friend every detail about the flooding of 
 the mines, and Eleanor had not exclaimed against 
 her misfortune. " I never cared much for money, 
 and I don't care for it at all since papa died," she 
 said. And yet, in Mary's thoughts, this disaster 
 meant a fearful loss for Eleanor. Patrick Des-
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 385 
 
 mond could not marry her now ; he was too poor, 
 and she must earn her own living by some every- 
 day drudgery. " School-teaching, perhaps," Mary 
 said to herself, and shuddered at the thought of 
 her own long days behind the desk. 
 
 The Galligan flat, in the Grand Windsor, was 
 in disorder. Nellie sat at the breakfast table, 
 with a Herald in her hand. Little Miley was in 
 his high chair, solemnly painting his face with 
 maple syrup. Miles lay on the lounge ; his face 
 was flushed with that perennial flush which ought 
 to warn the hard drinker that he had better stop 
 or die. He lay on a pile of the morning papers, 
 and two telegrams had fallen from his hands and 
 were on the floor. 
 
 " It's all up, Nell," he began. " Bayard's 
 message says so, and Desmond says so, too. I 
 ain't worth a cent, and I can never pay what I 
 borrowed." 
 
 We have got to pay our debts, Miles, no matter 
 what happens," answered Nellie. Nellie had red 
 eyes ; her bang stood out like bristles, partly put 
 up in papers, when the awful news had interrupted 
 her toilet. Her tea-gown of pink and green sug- 
 gested misfortunes by the number of spots scat- 
 tered over it, and the pieces of cheap lace which 
 little Miley had torn, and which draped the front 
 of it. 
 
 " Pay ! " broke out Miles, with irritation.
 
 386 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 " Pay ! I can never pay ; and in that I'll be no 
 worse off than a lot of my friends, who are living 
 on the interest of their debts. If I catch hold of 
 that Desmond, I'll " 
 
 " No ; you won't ! " said Nellie, firmly, giving 
 Miley another hot cake. " You'll let my cousin 
 alone ; he's an honest man, like all his family. 
 You ought to go gunning for Bayard, if you are 
 mad at anybody. I never liked him. Did you 
 hear him try to sing with me the night he came 
 here with the Baroness? He sing!" said the 
 pupil of Prof. Fortescue, with indignation. " If 
 I had my way, there would be singing in his 
 house and he wouldn't hear it. And the Baron- 
 ess I always had my opinion of her. But I 
 made up my mind she wasn't respectable when 
 she tried to make me pay ten dollars for a course 
 of her lectures on Buddha or some heathen. I 
 can stand powder and paint and airs," said Nellie, 
 virtuously, " but I can't stand irreligion, I 
 can't, Miles, and nobody need ask me to." 
 
 " It was your being so thick with the Baroness 
 that got me in with Bayard," observed Miles. 
 " I'm done for, that's all ! I might give two pic- 
 nics a year, as I promised to the crowd that I 
 would ; but my name would be Dennis, all the 
 same. Coming up here to live for your health and 
 some other little things have made me unpopular 
 with the voters; but, since I've touched their
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 387 
 
 money, they won't touch me. I've been too good- 
 natured, that's my misfortune. I've neither 
 money nor credit now ; and the landlord can seize 
 everything we have, if he wants to. I got him 
 to go into Fly-Away, too." 
 
 Nellie looked around her with some regret, and 
 then out of the window. The sight of roofs 
 glistening with rain, and of the distant spires, 
 stimulated her. After all, it was a great thing to 
 be alive in New York, she thought, even if the 
 landlord did seize her red plush hangings and the 
 piano. He would have to settle with the instal- 
 ment man, at any rate ; this gave her some com- 
 fort. Poverty had no terrors for Nellie; it had 
 too many ameliorations in her eyes to be horrible. 
 Besides, she had been thinking a great deal of 
 life, and she had come to the conclusion that red 
 plush and all her imitations of elegance did not 
 compensate for the gradual brutalizing of Miles. 
 She did not expect much of Miles; she had no 
 ideals for him or for herself beyond display, 
 diamonds, and a rather low standard of respect- 
 ability. She did not expect him to keep sober 
 always, but she was resolved that he should not 
 drink himself to death ; she knew that nothing 
 would keep him from this finality except want of 
 money and separation from his companions. 
 
 " Will Long worthy help us ? " asked Miles, 
 rereading the telegrams.
 
 388 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 "You know he won't!" snapped Nellie. 
 " That viper of an Esther won't let him." 
 
 " That girl hated me from the moment I was 
 born," remarked Miles pathetically. " Arthur 
 Fitzgerald may do something." 
 
 Nellie's brow darkened. " What do you want, 
 Miley ? " she asked, turning her attention to that 
 precious child, who was stretching toward the hot 
 cakes again. 
 
 Miley screwed up his lips, and then spoke one 
 of the few words he had been laboriously taught. 
 " Boodle," he said, quite distinctly. 
 
 Miles threw himself back and laughed uproari- 
 ously. Nellie joined him. " It's the cutest thing 
 out ! " she said, delighted. 
 
 " I'd give a case of champagne to have some of 
 the crowd hear him say that, but there'll be no 
 boodle for your poor daddy from this out," said 
 Miles, sadly. "Nell, you must send for some 
 whiskey." 
 
 Nellie did not answer. Miles watched her from 
 under his eyelashes. When sober, he had been a 
 little afraid of Nellie, of late. 
 
 The servant called from the kitchen : " There 
 are two ladies at the speaking-tube Mrs. Fitz- 
 gerald and Miss Redwood, wanting to come 
 up." 
 
 " Let 'em come," answered Nellie. 
 
 "Let them come into the midst of our poverty
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 389 
 
 and sorrow," said Miles. " There's no knowing 
 but that Mary has some information saying things 
 are not so bad as they seem. Mary has never 
 been so hard on ma as the other one " 
 
 " She has only slighted your wife whenever she 
 could," interrupted Nellie, with a resolved look. 
 
 Mary and Eleanor entered the dining-room. 
 Little Miley held out his hands to his aunt ; 
 and his mother took occasion to slap them, on the 
 pretence that they were sticky. Miles did not 
 move from the lounge. Eleanor stood near the 
 door, wishing she had not come. Mary threw her 
 arms about Miles' neck, kneeling beside him. 
 
 " O Miles," she said, " are you well ? Can you 
 bear it ? " 
 
 Miles took the precaution to cover his mouth 
 with his hand, and murmured something to the 
 effect that he still lived. Nellie administered 
 another slap to the unoffending Miley, and asked 
 Eleanor to sit down ; she had a great respect for 
 Eleanor. 
 
 " What are you and your husband going to 
 do for us in our trouble ? " Nellie asked, coolly, 
 turning to Mary. 
 
 Mary rose and looked at her helplessly. Nellie 
 repeated the question. It sounded brutal to 
 Eleanor, who saw her friend's face grow pale^ and 
 paler. 
 
 " Arthur " began Mary ; she stopped and
 
 390 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 began again, " I am afraid oh ! I hope Miles is 
 not ruined." 
 
 " Sit down," said Nellie, motioning her sister-in- 
 law to a chair. Mary obeyed, sick at heart. 
 What could she do for them, unless Arthur re- 
 lented? Nellie stood at the head of the table, 
 and, in spite of her frizzled hair and her tawdry- 
 gown, the dignity of her manner impressed Elea- 
 nor ; for there was much that was impressive 
 about Nellie when she succeeded in losing her 
 self-consciousness. " Ruined ! " she repeated. 
 " No, he is not quite ruined, but almost thanks 
 to you." 
 
 Eleanor started up to protest in behalf of her 
 friend, but Nellie would not listen. 
 
 " You pampered him ; you made a fool of him ; 
 you babied him ; and then you are down on me be- 
 cause I can't undo all 'the mischief you've made 
 since he was a boy. I'd rather see my little Miles 
 dead, Mary Fitzgerald, than brought up the way 
 Miles was brought up. You and your mother " 
 
 Mary raised her hands imploringly. 
 
 " You and your mother made him what he 
 is a selfish drunkard." 
 
 Miles started up. " I won't stand this, Nell ! " 
 he said. But she looked at him with fire in her 
 eye. Well had her old friends of the Lady Rose- 
 buds often said that Nellie Mulligan was afraid of 
 no man. Miles subsided to his lounge again.
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 391 
 
 " A selfish drunkard ! I repeat it, Mary. You 
 are not bound to live with him, but I am. You 
 could spoil him as much as you wanted to 
 doing the devoted sister act, of course, and I've 
 got to take the consequences, and the world has 
 got to take the consequences. Maybe you fancied 
 that I never thought of all this, but I have. And 
 if I had had your education and a real home, I'd 
 have thought it out long ago and been a different 
 girl. Oh ! I know that you look down on me. 
 But Miles, bad as he is, is mine anyhow, and you 
 can't take him away." 
 
 Nellie paused and began to cry. Little Miley, 
 believing that there was an intention to tear him 
 from the bosom of the family, shook his spoon at 
 his aunt. Absurd as it may seem, this bit of 
 pantomime was an additional sting to Nellie's 
 words ; for, in her heart, Mary had felt a special 
 proprietorship in her brother's child, and had 
 believed in her heart that little Miley would have 
 been an angel were it not for his mother. 
 
 " I am his only friend," sobbed Nellie. " You 
 gave him money to drink and kept him in idle- 
 ness until he was no good, and then I had to take 
 him and, what's more, I'll keep him," she 
 added, fiercel}-. " And I'll try a new way with 
 him." 
 
 Miles groaned ; the prospect was bad. But he 
 admired Nellie's cleverness ; Mary always was too 
 much of an old maid, he said to himself.
 
 392 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 " I suppose I have to go back to the glove 
 counter to support the man that you taught not to 
 work for himself. But I don't care ; it's better 
 than living in a way you can't afford. Or, if 
 Lacy won't have me, I may sing," added Nellie, 
 regaining her complacency. " Prof. Fortescue 
 says that they are worse voices than mine." 
 
 Miles groaned again. Mary did not move. 
 Were these terrible words true ? Had she helped 
 to ruin her brother's character and life ? She 
 could not say. She had meant to be true to her 
 dead mother, and Miles was the only boy. No 
 one spoke for a time. Miles was reflecting on the 
 chances of Mary's going out for whiskey if he 
 fainted, when Nellie spoke again : 
 
 " I shall manage Miles in my own way. I 
 don't expect to make much out of him, but I am 
 not going to have him drag little Miley and me 
 into the dirt. He'll work or starve, he'll work 
 or starve ; and he'll work at something honest. 
 I've seen fashionable life, I've met some of the 
 Four Hundred, and I don't like them. The Lady 
 Rosebuds are a great deal better, only they 
 haven't got the style. I'm going to have my own 
 way in future, Miles Galligan, as I did before I 
 was married." 
 
 " Take care, Nell ! "spoke up Miles, with a weak 
 effort to assert himself. 
 
 " Take care ! " repeated Nellie, scornfully.
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 393 
 
 " You take care, 01 there will be singing in this 
 house and you won't hear it." 
 
 Miles sank back on the lounge again. 
 
 " And now, Miss Redwood," said Nellie, turn- 
 ing to Eleanor, " I want to ask your opinion." 
 
 " Why not go to the country ? " asked the 
 young girl, eagerly. " Take your husband and 
 the little boy to a place in the country. I am 
 sure I could get you a nice house at Redwood, and 
 your husband would be away from temptation " 
 
 " My husband is no worse than other men," 
 said Nellie, shortly. " Do I look like a girl that 
 could bury herself in the country? No : give me 
 New York, if I am poor. I didn't intend to ask 
 your opinion about the country; but I've always 
 heard that you had common-sense. Who ought a 
 man to stick to his wife or his sister ? Who is 
 his best friend ? " 
 
 " His wife," said Eleanor, with a pitying glance 
 at Mary's white face. 
 
 " Well, Miles, what do you say ? " 
 
 " I'm with you, Nell," Miles answered. ' You're 
 right about Mary. If she had kept a curb on me, 
 and not pretended to believe my lies some of 
 'em were whoppers ! when I wanted money, I'd 
 not be in this fix to-day." 
 
 "Now!" said Nellie, looking at Mary with 
 sparkling eyes. 
 
 Mary rose, kissed little Miles on the forehead,
 
 394 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 and went out, without looking at her brother. 
 Had she deserved this ? Her heart was very sore. 
 After all the patient watching, all the sacrifices, 
 all the love, it had come to this. She went back, 
 past Eleanor who was at the door, and put her 
 hand on the child's head ; she looked at Nellie 
 appealingly, and said in a low voice : 
 
 " If this little child ever needs " 
 
 " A mother? " said Nellie, mockingly. " He'll 
 have one as long as I live, and I'm not of the 
 dying kind. I'd rather have him go to an asylum 
 than have your kind of bringing up." 
 
 When the two women reached the vestibule, 
 Mary turned her tear-filled eyes to Eleanor. " Was 
 she right ? " 
 
 Eleanor hesitated. " I don't exactly know ; " 
 and then, with more courage, " but I am afraid it 
 sounded as if she was." 
 
 Mary was silent ; she had learned her lesson 
 at last.
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATEICK DESMOND. 395 
 
 XXX. 
 
 Not fear 
 
 Can bow when all looks drear, 
 Nor hope when skies are clear 
 
 Can buoy 
 
 The heart that reigns sedate. 
 Only to trust and wait, 
 Through early days and late. . . . 
 
 R. Howley. 
 
 ELEANOR glided, as it were, into the Church. 
 She found herself one day, with the rosary in 
 her hand, before the altar of the Blessed Virgin, 
 and it seemed to her as if the prayers she said had 
 been breathed to her in some long-forgotten time. 
 The " Hail Mary " was not new to her, though 
 she had never said it before in her life. For the 
 last week before her conditional baptism, she had 
 been much with Sister Raphael, who managed the 
 girls' school in the parish ; and, under her guid- 
 ance, Eleanor serenely drew near her "home," as 
 she called it. Besides, she had a glimpse into the 
 inner life of some of those people whom she had 
 pitied so greatly on the night of her visit to 
 Father Jackson's clients. At first it had seemed 
 to her that the Sisters were not doing enough ; 
 and so fervent was her interest that, during the 
 week after she had been received into the Church, 
 she spent nearly all her time with the Sisters in 
 their school. She was sure that she could teach
 
 396 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 little children, even if she could not paint good 
 pictures. 
 
 "And I think," said Sister Raphael smiling, 
 " that St. Charles Borromeo, when he began his 
 Sunday-school, did a greater work in the world 
 than Raphael, not my Raphael the angel, but 
 Raphael the artist." 
 
 This rather shocked Eleanor at first, but after a 
 time she saw what the Sister meant. 
 
 Belinda took her conversion with great tearing 
 up of the soul ; she was inclined to be rigorous, 
 and her general confession produced an agony 
 of mind which frightened Eleanor. This once 
 over, Belinda found, as she said, that her new 
 "religion fitted her like a glove." She longed for 
 controversial contests, and hoped daily that 'she 
 might meet Mr. Stokes or Mrs. Howard Sykes in 
 a New York street, and give him or her battle. 
 She never quite got over her distrust for the 
 Sisters. Maria Monk's revelations, which she had 
 read in early youth, clung to her mind, and she 
 shook her head sadly when Eleanor talked of the 
 admirable work of the Sisters. 
 
 " There are some things I can't understand in 
 the Church, and I suppose I never shall ; and 
 these are why she approves of nuns, and why she 
 lets her priests go about with holes in their hand- 
 kerchiefs, like that poor Father Jackson," she 
 said, in moments of confidence. She had not
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 397 
 
 made up her mind as to her future yet, although 
 the people in Mary Fitzgerald's kitchen wished 
 she would ; for the traditional Redwood ways 
 of housekeeping were not theirs. 
 
 The Judge's death had changed Eleanor, not 
 outwardly, but in heart and mind. She often 
 wondered that she could smile at all, and yet 
 many things gave her pleasure. But she never 
 forgot her sorrow for an hour ; still her feeling 
 could hardly be called sorrow. There seemed to 
 be a wound in her heart, which ached at times 
 with a dull, physical aching. She would not have 
 brought her father back again if she could ; but if 
 she could only see him, only look into his eyes for 
 a moment, the pain, she thought, would grow less. 
 There is some special link that binds father and 
 daughter together ; and Eleanor had been so near 
 her father always, that in her case the bond was 
 even closer. She felt that she had much to 
 regret ; she felt that she had taken his love too 
 much as a matter of course, and had not been 
 grateful enough for it. But she could make up 
 for it now : she could stretch her hands out to 
 him ; she could pray for him ; she could clasp on 
 this side " the golden chain which binds the 
 whole round world about the feet of God." Her 
 grief did not paralyze her : it gave her new motive 
 for good works ; since each, offered to God, could 
 help the soul of the departed.
 
 398 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 Mary was not at all jealous of Eleanor's atten- 
 tion to Sister Raphael ; she was glad to be left 
 alone for a time, for the last interview with Miles 
 and Nellie had cut her to the heart. She had 
 passed out of Miles' life ; he was done with her. 
 Nellie would have it so, and she had a right to 
 make it so. Mary bore her punishment in silence 
 and without an appeal for sympathy. She knew 
 what Esther would say ; she knew what to expect 
 from Arthur ; and Father Jackson was sternly 
 practical. It was his opinion that the Galligans 
 could and would take care of themselves, if they 
 were let alone. About Eleanor's opinion she 
 could conjecture from the few words she had 
 dropped after the interview. Suddenly Mary 
 awakened to the truth that she was sacrificing 
 her happiness to the caprices of a thoroughly self- 
 ish man, a man whom she had helped to make 
 selfish. This latter revelation shocked her. She 
 flew to the Jesuits at St. Francis', and sought out 
 a priest who had often helped her. She told her 
 trouble to him in the parlor. How could she 
 make reparation for the harm she had done? A 
 twinkle came into the old priest's eyes ; he knew 
 the family history. 
 
 " I know that the dear boy's faults have been 
 brought about in some measure by my injudicious 
 kindness. How can I repair the evil, Father ? " 
 
 " By letting him alone," the priest answered ;
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 399 
 
 "and by giving your whole thoughts to your 
 husband, and not letting him have only one-fourth 
 of them." 
 
 Mary felt that she did not deserve this. " By 
 letting him alone ! " she said in horror. 
 
 " Yes ; my child. You have chosen your path ; 
 he has his." 
 
 Maiy felt that her punishment was very hard 
 but she resolved to bear it. And later, when she 
 had boys of her own, she wisely applied the les- 
 son she had learned to them. It was the best 
 way, Arthur said, of making reparation to the 
 human race for the existence of Miles, but he 
 did not say this aloud. 
 
 Sister Raphael was not only practical, but very 
 spiritual-minded. It was this union of qualities 
 that fascinated Eleanor ; she had never met any- 
 thing like it in her experience. It was a revela- 
 tion to her to hear the Sister explain the meaning 
 of the word " vocation." 
 
 "It is more beautiful than anything Emerson 
 has said ! " exclaimed Eleanor. " And have I, 
 too, a vocation? Do you know, Sister, that I 
 always looked on work as work to be done be- 
 cause it had to be done? But you glorify it. 
 It seemed to me that my vocation was simply to 
 be Eleanor Redwood. I never thought of living 
 for the greater glory of God. Your talk is very 
 serious, very consoling; to think as you think 
 puts sunshine into the darkest days."
 
 400 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 The Sister, who was walking up and down the 
 long corridor of the school with Eleanor, during a 
 a short recreation, smiled. 
 
 " You are growing more and more of a Catholic 
 every day. It is a matter of evolution, though 
 some converts seem to think they must find out 
 all the beauty and strength and consolation of the 
 Church at the outset. You are discovering new 
 flowers every day/' 
 
 Eleanor did not answer at once. "Of late," 
 she said, " I have regretted the loss of fortune 
 almost with passion, only of late, since I 
 have understood how far John Longworthy's 
 book falls short of showing how miserable the poor 
 people in your tenement-houses are." 
 
 "All tenement-houses are not like those you 
 have seen," remarked the Sister, pleased with the 
 earnest look in Eleanor's eyes. " But some of them 
 are blots on the civilization of the most civilized 
 city in this land. You have lately helped us to 
 teach the little children who come here ; you have 
 lived among them ; you see how wretched some 
 of them are; how neglected by beer-drinking 
 mothers, how familiar with the worst side of life. 
 Lilies, by a miracle, many of them are ; but how 
 terrible the condition of others." 
 
 " It is now," said Eleanor passionately, " that I 
 long to be rich." 
 
 The Sister looked at her gravely, and paused
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 401 
 
 to pluck a dead leaf from the pot of geranium 
 that stood before the statue of Our Lady of 
 Victory, at the end of the corridor. 
 " Oh ! yes, Sister, I long to be rich." 
 " Do you think that money would make a man 
 as devoted as Father Jackson, or pay women to 
 do the work our Sisters do ? Or that money will 
 change the slipshod, drinking and gossiping woman 
 into a careful housewife, making the most of what 
 she has, and careful of the example she gives her 
 children? Suppose you gave this woman a fine 
 house and handsome appointments, do you think 
 they would make her different? We must begin, 
 my dear, with the children. But so long as the 
 children remain with the parents in some of these 
 slums, our progress is slow. We begin with the 
 children, and sometimes the children change the 
 parents. Money is useful, it would be useful 
 if there were enough of it to make some of these 
 tenement houses habitable, and to keep outcasts 
 of society Chinese pagans and criminals from 
 mingling in daily intercourse with the virtuous 
 and self-respecting. Money is not what we need 
 most ; we can give more than that to the service 
 of God, as St. Francis of Assist did : we can give 
 ourselves. Could St. Francis have done what he 
 did with money ? " 
 
 The young girl felt for a moment that she was 
 an outsider. Who was this St. Francis, of whom 
 the Sister spoke as of a cherished friend ?
 
 402 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 " I don't know what St. Francis did," Eleanor 
 said. " I wish I knew about him. But I think 
 I understand what you mean. It is noble ! " 
 
 To know more about this St. Francis became a 
 great desire of Eleanor's. Sister Raphael gave 
 her a little picture of the saint, a brown-tinted 
 little picture, in which the whole life of the ema- 
 ciated and spiritual face was in the eyes, upturned 
 towards the seraphic vision. Underneath was the 
 ejaculation in German, " Hail I St. Francis of 
 Assisi," and the verse, " Happy are thy clients 
 when they learn to love poverty and the will of 
 God ! " 
 
 The saints seemed at first to Eleanor like far- 
 off people. It was strange to Jiear Sister Raphael 
 talk as if St. Joseph were at her elbow, and to 
 see Mary Fitzgerald stop her occupation and beg 
 St. Antony to help her find some lost article. 
 Even Arthur, when in a serious mood, spoke of 
 his favorite, St. Paul, as if he were living in the 
 next house. It was a habit which these Catholics 
 had from their earliest childhood ; it had been 
 part of their earliest education to live in the com- 
 munion of saints. To a woman trained in a 
 school in which the " communion of saints " is 
 a mere phrase, this was the strangest thing of all. 
 Sister Raphael told Eleanor of St. Francis, and 
 lent her the " Fioretti." Then she found Mrs. 
 Oliphant's Life of her beloved Saint in the Mer-
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 403 
 
 cantile Library ; she devoured it but it did not 
 quite satisfy her. She read every scrap she could 
 find, in order to know more about this new friend 
 of hers. 
 
 " There is nothing in English that satisfies 
 me," she said to Sister Raphael. " I must learn 
 Italian." 
 
 " Pray for his spirit, my dear," the Sister an- 
 swered. " That will be better." 
 
 Like everybody in the little circle of which 
 Father Jackson was the centre, Sister Raphael 
 believed that Eleanor would marry Patrick Des- 
 mond, whose praises Arthur and Mary had so 
 often sung. Sister Raphael was not of the world, 
 but she lived in it unavoidably, and she did not 
 disapprove of the match. She smiled a little to 
 herself at Eleanor's fervor ; she had known con- 
 verts before who had been quite as exalted ; it 
 was her opinion that they needed gentle restraint 
 and frequent dashes of cold water in the begin- 
 ning. Eleanor, however, was so persistent and 
 persevering that Sister Raphael caught herself 
 wishing that the girl had a vocation for the relig- 
 ious life, though she said no word to influence her. 
 
 " I understand what St. Francis did now" said 
 Eleanor one day, after a morning of prayer and 
 meditation. " He gave himself entirely to God 
 and God's poor. I could not fathom his mystical 
 mission, but at the Offertory I asked for his spirit
 
 404 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 with all my heart ; and, Sister Raphael, a new 
 understanding came to me. Oh ! I could never go 
 back to my old life. I am cut off from it by a 
 flood of light. Help me, Sister, to be like St. 
 Francis : let me give myself to the poor, and be 
 of the poor." 
 
 Sister Raphael looked at the upturned, earnest 
 face, framed by the black veil of mourning, and 
 said: 
 
 " Eleanor, are you free ? " 
 
 " Free ? " asked Eleanor, surprised. " I have 
 no father to keep me bound in love." 
 
 " But is there no other ? " pursued Sister Raph- 
 ael. And, seeing Eleanor's puzzled look, she 
 resolved to be entirely frank. " I have heard the 
 name of Mr. Desmond mentioned " 
 
 Eleanor smiled, much relieved. " He is a good 
 man, the best in the world, I think. But I 
 never thought of him in the way you mean ; and 
 I am sure it was just his goodness that made him 
 so kind to me." 
 
 Sister Raphael looked into her clear eyes; it 
 was her turn to be puzzled. She kissed Eleanor 
 on the forehead and bade her go to Father Jack- 
 son. 
 
 Somewhat later she returned to Sister Raphael, 
 and waited for her until it was time to dismiss 
 her class. The sister found her pale and grave, 
 changed somewhat by the strain upon her mind ;
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATEICK DESMOND. 405 
 
 and, as she looked up when the Sister entered, 
 all the life in her face seemed to be in her eyes. 
 Sister Raphael took Eleanor's hand in hers, and 
 they had a long talk. 
 
 Somehow Eleanor disliked to break the news to 
 the Fitzgeralds. She felt that Mary would, in 
 her heart reproach her with cold-heartedness, 
 and with too much enthusiasm, or with both. 
 She faced them at dinner, looking with a certain 
 tremor at Mary, over the bunch of mignonette in 
 the centre of the table. 
 
 After dinner, while Arthur Fitzgerald dozed 
 over his newspaper by the cheerful grate, and 
 Mary played the " Traumerai " very softly, Elea- 
 nor thought over what Sister Raphael had said ; 
 and a strange, new gladness came into her heart. 
 
 " Mary ! " she whispered. 
 
 Her companion looked at her, but did not stop 
 her music. 
 
 " I want to tell you something. I am beginning 
 to find my vocation." 
 
 Mary smiled and stopped abruptly. " I thought 
 so. Had you a letter to-day ? Oh I my dear, I 
 hope you will be happy. But I am afraid there 
 will be a long waiting." 
 
 " Do they make one wait long ? " said Eleanor. 
 " I did not ask Sister Raphael about details, but 
 I have spoken to Father Jackson." 
 
 " Sister Raphael ! "
 
 406 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND 
 
 " Yes ; she told me about vocations. It was 
 lovely ; it was satisfying. If they will let me, 
 Mary, I will become a Sister." 
 
 Mary looked at the young girl in astonishment. 
 Then she smiled and began the " Traumerai " 
 again. 
 
 " This music is appropriate, dreams, my 
 dear ; dreams. You converts are always at fever 
 heat." 
 
 " I am sure I am not dreaming," said Eleanor, 
 seriously. Mary, noticing the expression of her 
 face, ceased playing again, and waited with anx- 
 iety. " It may be presumption on my part, but 
 it is not a dream ; at least, it is a hope." 
 
 " And what is to become of Mr. Desmond ? " 
 asked Mary, with a tinge of censure in her voice. 
 " Eleanor, I thought you liked him." 
 
 " Of course I liked him, of course I like him ; 
 he is a good and brave man ; and whenever I 
 have met him I have felt there was more good- 
 ness and bravery in him than he shows. He was 
 the first really religious man I ever met. I be- 
 lieve that it was the unconscious influence of his 
 sincerity that caused me to begin to think, and to 
 throw away a lot of nonsense." 
 
 " And you will give him up ? " demanded 
 Mary. 
 
 " Give him up ! " repeated Eleanor, in some 
 doubt. " Oh ! " she continued, with a slight laugh,
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 407 
 
 " I see what you mean. How can I give him up ? 
 "He never " and the girl laughed again, 
 "he never asked me. I don't believe he ever 
 thought of such a thing." 
 
 Arthur raised his head from his paper to It/ok 
 toward the corner from which the ripple of laugh- 
 ter came. 
 
 " Ah ! Miss Redwood," he said, " you are light- 
 hearted, and yet here I see that the Fly-Away 
 stock is out of the market. I can understand it; 
 for Desmond writes that capitalists refuse to risk 
 anything in the reclaiming of the mines. And yet 
 you laugh. If I were in your place if Des- 
 mond had sold me the shares I should not 
 laugh, I assure you." 
 
 Arthur buried himself in his paper. 
 
 " I thought Mr. Desmond spoke to you the 
 other day in the parlor," said Mary, in a low tone. 
 
 " He did, but not in that way. I'm sure he 
 never thought of me. How can you be so foolish ? 
 I declare, I think all married people are inveter- 
 ate matchmakers." 
 
 Mary looked at her reproachfully. " I know 
 Patrick Desmond is in love with you." 
 
 Eleanor's color rose. " It is impossible ! You 
 like me, and you fancy everybody else does. I 
 admit that I like him ; but," she said, in a graver 
 voice, " I like him because of the goodness religion 
 has fostered in him."
 
 408 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 " I hope that he has some natural virtues," 
 observed Mary sarcastically. 
 
 " Don't let us talk about him," Eleanor said. 
 " If he did like me in the way you mean, I should 
 not marry him. I see the shining of a great Light 
 in him : why should not I choose the great Light 
 itself ? Why should I espouse the servant when 
 the higher Spouse, Our Lord, awaits me ? " 
 
 " Sister Raphael has been talking to you. Really, 
 my dear Eleanor, you are very selfish," said 
 Mary. 
 
 Eleanor smiled, and no reproaches could induce 
 her to continue the conversation.
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 409 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 " Without fear and without reproach." 
 
 DESMOND, at Eaglescliff, had struggled against 
 all probabilities to interest capitalists in the restor- 
 ation of the mines. He spared neither time nor 
 pains. It was useless : the mines were dead 
 for a long time at least. The lake, on the night 
 of the storm, had done its work thoroughly, and 
 restless water filled their innermost recesses. Ex- 
 perts, who had been hopeful after the first flood, 
 gave opinions that seemed ultra-conservative to 
 Desmond. For three weeks he worked harder 
 than he had ever worked in his life. People said 
 that he was a " trump " ; hard-headed speculators 
 admired his pluck. The new traction car com- 
 pany, whose president had some stock in the Fly- 
 Away, offered him a good place, which seemed to 
 promise a future. This gave him hope. He ac- 
 cepted it ; ran over to Redwood where he would 
 henceforth be stationed to greet Ms mother, 
 and then started for New York. His mother 
 parted with him sadly. She kissed him wistfully 
 over and over again. Why must mothers love 
 their sons, and yet they see them go farther and 
 farther away as each day brings their boys greater 
 strength? It was right, of course, that her son
 
 410 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 should seek a wife ; and yet, in spite of reason 
 and right, Mrs. Desmond's heart was sore. 
 
 Patrick's ride to New York did not occupy 
 many hours. It seemed to him as if it took him 
 through a century, as thickly studded with hopes 
 and fears as a Northern forest with pine trees. 
 He knew he had little to offer Eleanor Redwood ; 
 he felt utterly unworthy of her. How dared he 
 think of her as sharing his struggles ? How 
 dared he offer her a princess among women 
 a humble home ? He became timid and brave in 
 a breath. He had been dreaming; he had been 
 living in a fool's paradise ; he had built a bridge 
 of rainbows, simply because his hopes were rain- 
 bow tinted. He would get out at the next station 
 and turn back, but still he kept on. 
 
 The Fitzgeralds were in their cheerful sitting- 
 room, which he could see between the curtains, as 
 he was shown into the drawing-room. The light 
 of the reading-lamp was tempered by a soft, glow- 
 ing shade ; the sound of music struck his ear, and 
 Mary's laugh, as Arthur tried to reach a high 
 note. Was Eleanor there ? Would he soon see 
 her? Desmond's heart beat fast. In a moment 
 the curtains would part, and he would behold her 
 whom he acknowledged as the most worthy woman 
 of all the world. 
 
 The curtains parted : Mary Fitzgerald entered 
 with his card in her hand. The gas was rather
 
 TEE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 411 
 
 low. Mary gave his face a quick glance, and 
 turned the key of the gas-fixture ; the light 
 blazed. Patrick saw that she was embarassed. 
 A fear seized him. 
 
 " Is anything the matter ? Has anything hap- 
 pened to to " 
 
 He became aware that his question was more 
 frank than conventional ; he hesitated. 
 
 " I am sorry, Mr. Desmond," Mary said, nerv- 
 ously ; " but Miss Redwood is not here. She 
 left yesterday for the mother-house of the Sisters 
 of Charity ; she will become a postulant there." 
 
 Desmond did not move or speak. Mary clasped 
 her hands. She afterwards said she had never 
 seen a man in such distress. 
 
 " O, Mr. Desmond ! " she cried, searching for 
 some consolation, " she may change her mind, 
 girls often do." 
 
 " No, she never will ; she is a woman please 
 let me go, replied Desmond, in a voice that 
 sounded broken. " Excuse me to your husband ; 
 I must be alone for a time," he said, with a ges- 
 ture toward the other room. " To-morrow I will 
 see him." 
 
 He rose. Mary, with tears in her eyes, followed 
 him to the door. He waved his hand slightly, 
 and, without speaking, went out into the dark- 
 ness. 
 
 " 0, Arthur," said Mary, returning bathed in
 
 412 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 tears, "how hard-hearted she is. I could never 
 have treated you that way." 
 
 " It wasn't your vocation," answered Arthur. 
 " Halloo ! why didn't Desmond wait ? Never 
 mind. Come play this accompaniment for me. 
 Believe me, my dear, he'll get over it ; and, be- 
 tween ourselves, I think they are both too self- 
 willed and Quixotic to have been happy together. 
 Now, we are different." 
 
 But Mary sat down and had a good cry before 
 she played the accompaniment. How could Arthur 
 be so heartless ? And Eleanor ? If Mary had 
 only known it, Eleanor had almost forgotten 
 Patrick Desmond, having, as she thought, satis- 
 fied her obligations to him when she had written 
 him a cordial note of thanks, and sent him her 
 father's gold-headed walking-stick. 
 
 Desmond went back to Redwood, after he had 
 a long business talk with Fitzgerald. Arthur 
 begged him to remain in New York ; he might 
 study law with him ; there was a career open for 
 him ; he was honorable, he was energetic, he was 
 clever; and Arthur liked him and would help 
 him all he could. Desmond said that he must 
 go ; while his mother lived he must stay at Red- 
 wood. At least he could make Tier happy. 
 
 Later, when Jack Conlon was ordained, and 
 through unusual good fortune, put in the place 
 of the old pastor at Redwood, who was sent
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 413 
 
 abroad for a rest, Desmond found his career at 
 home. His own people, at Redwood, wanted a 
 disinterested leader, who could keep them out of 
 the political mire, and teach them their own 
 strength and how to respect it. They found this 
 leader in Patrick Desmond. 
 
 And his mother? Is she happy? Her boy is 
 safe with her ; but he is not the same ; he is sad- 
 der and he has left his youth somewhere, He is 
 not the impetuous, hot-tempered, outspoken boy 
 of a year ago; and she regrets this. She has 
 him back at home, but she cannot think, without 
 a certain bitterness, of Eleanor Redwood. She 
 does not know the circumstances of the case ; he 
 has never spoken about it ; for, after all, he has 
 nothing to tell. He had hoped that was all. 
 
 Father Conlon was delighted to hear that 
 Belinda was not permanently engaged when he 
 entered the rather dilapidated pastoral house at 
 Redwood. To the amazement of that town, and 
 afterward to the terror of the insolent, she took 
 her place as housekeeper for him. In this position 
 she arose far above her own level ; and even the 
 haughty Mrs. Howard Sykes saluted her meekly, 
 after having offered her a tract once, only once ! 
 Belinda was never particularly fond of Patrick 
 Desmond ; but she looks on him as an injured 
 man, and repents of her impulsive betrayal of the 
 Redwood family secret to Laura Bayard; the
 
 414 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 more that she somehow fancies that Eleanor would 
 have married Patrick if she had not done that 
 wrong, which the honest old soul makes satis- 
 faction for as well as she can. She often declares 
 that if she had not learned to do penance, she 
 should have gone mad with remorse. 
 
 Nellie Galligan, with some assistance from 
 Esther Longworthy, who was appealed to in the 
 name of little Miley, opened a cigar shop in the 
 Bowery, next to Bastien's old place. She prospers 
 and grows rich. Miles wears old clothes and does 
 such work as his wife requires him to do. He 
 has neither money nor credit ; and Nellie keeps 
 him in that condition as a guarantee that he will 
 not drink too much. She speaks of the past with 
 regret ; of her " reverses " with a sigh ; of the 
 Longworthys and Fitzgeralds with charity and 
 resignation. She now leads a life that suits her 
 a bustling, managing life. And she will make a 
 man of little Miles, for there is a great deal of 
 good in Nellie, and her energy is tempered by ex- 
 perience. 
 
 The Baroness von Homburg and Mr. Stokes 
 have become theosophists. The latter is too limp 
 to think seriously ; a belief in the nirvana pays 
 him. So he is looked on as inspired by the fre- 
 quenters of the Baroness' esoteric circle, and he 
 wears the robes of a Brahmin as he once wore his 
 dust-coat. But he feels his degradation : he has
 
 TEE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 415 
 
 never forgotten the night of the great storm, and 
 the great sacrifice Desmond's religion obliged him 
 to make. Sometimes when he passes the cathe- 
 dral he longs to go in and find the secret of the 
 awful grace that saved his former friend, under 
 the greatest stress, from sin, and yet he only 
 longs, he lacks courage. 
 
 One day, as Desmond and Father Conlon were 
 standing by the road that led to the bridge at 
 Redwood, a carriage with a blazing coat of arms 
 passed them. The women in it, who were gorge- 
 ously attired, bowed to Desmond ; the man in the 
 front seat involuntarily took off his hat, and then, 
 replacing it, scowled. These people were the 
 Baroness and Mr. and Mrs. Bayard. 
 
 " The Bayards have bought the Judge's house, 
 and will cut a wide swath here in Redwood," 
 remarked Father Conlon. " They have grown 
 wealthy in a short time. Those are fine horses, 
 and how the whole thing glitters and shines." 
 
 Patrick Desmond flipped some dust off his 
 coat, cast by the wheels of the Bayard carriage. 
 His face changed for a moment, and then took 
 on a pleasant expression. There was his mother 
 on the other side, on her way home from a visit 
 to the Blessed Sacrament ; he lifted his hat and 
 waved his hand to her. 
 
 The Bayard carriage turned again, with a 
 glitter of silver and a jingle of chains ; its occu- 
 pants looked the other way as they passed.
 
 416 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 " Is that success ? " Desmond asked, smiling. 
 
 " You'll have to look in the dictionary," an- 
 swered Father Conlon, laughing. " It is not what 
 you or I call success. My boy, you are, in the 
 sight of God, the most successful man I know." 
 
 As they strolled by the river bank, back of the 
 Judge's house, as in the old days, Desmond re- 
 called with a sudden pain the night he had seen 
 Eleanor waiting in fear of ill news, and had given 
 her a rosary. He wondered whether she had kept 
 it or not. Certainly she must have prayed for 
 him, since he had come to rejoice that she had 
 found the highest vocation. He had heard of her 
 profession, and after that no more ; and he had 
 asked of God that she might find all the joy of 
 the spouse of Christ. His dream was gone. He 
 wondered now how he could have built up his 
 hope on such a slight foundation. He blushed 
 when he thought of his presumption, and felt 
 ashamed that Mary and Arthur, and even Belinda, 
 had guessed his secret. After all, he thought it 
 was only just that the noblest woman in this world 
 should have chosen " the better part ; " and he 
 thanked heaven that he had never disturbed the 
 serenity of that pure soul by a word of love. 
 
 Eleanor became to Desmond what Beatrice was 
 to Dante a creature above the world, endowed 
 with all virtues ; a mentor, a guide, the compan- 
 ion of his thoughts and the censor of them. He
 
 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 417 
 
 led an inner life, of which only his friend, Father 
 Conlon caught glimpses. He rose step by step in 
 the estimation of his fellow-men ; his words carried 
 weight, his name was synonymous with the most 
 scrupulous honesty. And each step he took up- 
 ward was a step for all the young men of bis 
 blood in Redwood, until it was the ambition of 
 those he influenced, not to be rich at all hazards, 
 but to be honest at all hazards. He accomplished 
 this at the cost of many sacrifices, and some 
 people declared he was a fool. Desmond knew 
 what is said of every man with a purpose, and it 
 did not trouble him. If he had followed the 
 ethics of business, common in Redwood, he might 
 have had a carriage like Harry Bayard ; there, 
 for instance, was that contract for the sewers, 
 when Desmond was in the Redwood town coun- 
 cil, but that is a long story. 
 
 Sometimes the old craving for wealth came 
 back, and for a moment he saw himself at the 
 telephone on the night of the great storm, with 
 the terrible alternative of that occasion before 
 him. The vision cured him. If he had succumbed 
 he would now be the greatest failure on earth 
 a man who had sold his conscience and his soul. 
 
 His disappointment, bitter while it lasted, had 
 made him grave, and men took his reserve for 
 pride in his immaculate reputation. But there 
 was too much fear in his heart for pride to find a
 
 418 THE SUCCESS OF PATRICK DESMOND. 
 
 lodging place. However, this reserve, tempered 
 by a tolerance, which the memory of his keen 
 temptation led him to extend to others who had 
 fallen, was a great part of the influence he wielded. 
 
 There came a time when all Father Conlon's 
 hopes concerning his people in Redwood were 
 realized. Self-respect had forced out the idleness 
 and thriftlessness which self-indulgence had fos- 
 tered. Saturday night was no longer a saturnalia 
 by the riverside, when the whiskey shops con- 
 sumed the week's earnings. Father Conlon's 
 people had learned that they were bound to let 
 their light shine clear before men ; and that a 
 stain on them meant, in the eyes of their unbe- 
 lieving neighbors, a stain on the Church they loved 
 more than life. They did not indulge in polemics, 
 but tried to live so that the glow of faith shone 
 in their acts. Many times Father Conlon thanked 
 Desmond, with tears in his eyes, for having 
 helped by his example to make this possible. 
 
 Desmond never attained what the world calls 
 success : he never became rich ; he always lived 
 in the little town that gave him birth. And yet, 
 when he looked at his dear old mother, and felt 
 in his heart he could say that her earliest prayers 
 over his cradle had been answered, he knew that he 
 had succeeded ; for the first prayer of every good 
 mother is that her son may be an honest man.
 
 A New Edition of an Important Book 
 
 DANGERS OF THE DAY 
 
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 218 pages, 12 mo. Price, $1.50. 
 
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 his lamented death. Beautifully printed 
 and elegantly bound. Price, $1.00. 
 
 Notre Dam*, Indiana, U.S.A.
 
 Plays for Young Folks. 
 
 BETHLEHEM TOWN. Just the thing for 
 the holidays. 
 
 FLORA'S REVIEW. By Mrs. C. Harris 
 Leonard, arranged by the Ursulines. 
 For sixteen speaking characters. 
 Easy of presentation, and affords 
 opportunities for marches, drills and 
 songs. 
 
 ANIMA. A Drama in Three Acts. 
 
 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. A Drama 
 in Two Scenes. 
 
 FROM LA RABIDA TO SAN SALVADOR. A 
 Drama in Four Scenes. 
 
 By members of the Congregation of 
 the Sisters of Holy Cross. With Stage 
 Directions, Cast of Characters, cos- 
 tumes and prologues. 
 
 Though originally written for girls, 
 these little dramas may easily be adapt- 
 ed for entertainments given by boys 
 and girls, or by boys only. 
 
 Plays not sent for inspection. 
 Price, per copy, 15 cents. 
 
 NOTRE DAME, INDIANA, U. S. A.
 
 A 000126474 6