The White Shield Read online

  From a Human Standpoint

  "Will the madam please walk in to supper?"

  Carroll stood in the doorway with a napkin over his arm, the verypicture of servile obedience. Katherine sprang from the sofa, sayinglaughingly, "Indeed the madam will!"

  His obsequious manner changed at once, and he put his arm around herwaist with a happy sense of proprietorship.

  The table was cosily laid for two, linen and china were of thedaintiest, and the tiny kettle swung and bubbled merrily over thealcohol lamp.

  "How dear and homey it all is!" Katherine exclaimed, as she sat down.

  "And how primitive," suggested Robert. "But our respective professionsare not worth much if our imaginations can't change our tea into abanquet. Will you have a little of the quail?" He poised a mutton chopon his fork and looked inquiringly at Katherine.

  "I'm afraid quail is too rich for me to-night," she answered, "but Iwill take a little of the toast which is commonly supposed to go withit, and some of the nectar which I shall brew myself."

  "Lucky thing you don't like cream with your nectar," he responded, "forthe cat got into it this afternoon. I'm afraid I neglect my housewifelyduties for my art."

  "That doesn't matter, as long as art progresses. Did Mickey behaveto-day?"

  Mickey was the name Katherine had given to Carroll's model, who wasposing for his "Aurora." She had the fair skin and blue eyes with whichIreland compensates her daughters for a somewhat unlovely mouth, andher hair was a flaming auburn glory which he tried in vain to paint.It was a little startling until you knew Mickey. People who could passhundreds without noting age, colour, or condition of servitude, wouldstop and gasp as she went by. But those who were privileged to knowher intimately became so absorbed in contemplation of her manifoldcharacter that mere externals were passed unnoticed.

  "Mickey did pretty well to-day," he said. "She put on your best hatwhile I was out, and I found her strutting before the mirror when Icame back. I declare to you, solemnly, Katherine, that the effect ofyour violets against that hair was absolutely _fortissimo_. She willwear it to church some day if we don't watch her. But she didn't cutmy brushes into scallops, nor assist in the painting when my back wasturned. No, on the whole Mickey has been angelic. How did things gowith you?"

  "About as usual, though I believe more than the usual number of freakypeople have been in. They ask for everything from money and advice, upto a letter of introduction to the managing editor. They seem to thinkthat a woman tied down to a newspaper desk, has only to beckon and theuniverse hastens to do her bidding. You remember I told you about thewoman who came in last week with a yearning to do 'lit'ery work'?"

  Robert nodded.

  "She was in again to-day. She is doing 'lit'ery work' and likes it verymuch. What do you suppose it is?"

  "Give it up."

  "Addressing envelopes! Did you ever?"

  "Great idea," said Robert, "I'll tell Mickey, and perhaps she'll cleanmy brushes. Mickey shall be an artist."

  Together they washed up the dishes, then Robert hung the dish-towel outof the window to dry, and took off his apron.

  In the studio was an open fire, the single extravagance which theCarrolls allowed themselves. Perhaps it was not so extravagant afterall, since it saved gas, and Robert picked up most of the wood in hisdaily walks along the lake shore.

  "Let's sit on the rug," said Katherine, and they curled up like twochildren before the fire. Robert rested his head upon his elbow, andlooked up contentedly into her face. The sweetness of it was halfhidden, half revealed, by the dancing firelight, but there were linesaround the mouth, and faint marks of worry on the forehead. Yet, it wasa patient face--one to teach a man strength and kindliness.

  The hand that wore the wedding ring was thin, so thin that the ringslipped when she moved her fingers. He touched it tenderly.

  "Dear, are you sorry?"

  "Sorry! For what?"

  "For all you left behind to marry a poor artist."

  "We leave nothing behind when we gain happiness. Don't you think I'drather be here to-night with you, than to have the money without you?"

  Katherine's father had proved himself the equal if not the superior ofany stern parent in fiction. A stormy scene followed the announcementof her determination to marry the man of her own choice, rather thanhis, so they had slipped away to Milwaukee--that haven of the fond andfoolish--and set up housekeeping immediately on their return.

  Robert had objected a little to the announcement cards, since theywere not in a position to entertain, but they were sent out. Upon thereceipt of his, Katherine's father had written a single line: "Any timeyou may repent of this foolishness, your home is open to you."

  The avalanche of gifts had followed the wedding instead of precedingit. The usual miscellany of the very rich had been showered upon them,and Katherine had often thought of the exquisite irony involved inthe possession of gold candlesticks, real laces, a Royal Worcesterchocolate set, and a genuine Corot, while her shoes were out at thetoes and Robert's clothes were sadly frayed.

  Still, eight months had passed and she had not repented of herfoolishness. He still seemed more desirable than money, and she lookedfondly at the Corot which hung in the place of honour.

  "I cleaned all the silver to-day," he said, "and put our cut glasspunch bowl safely out of Mickey's reach."

  She patted his cheek affectionately.

  "You're a dear good boy, and an admirable housekeeper."

  "Katherine, I can't stand it any longer," he blurted out. "I simplywon't stay here and paint while you work your dear fingers to the bonein that confounded old office. It's my business to take care of you,not yours of me, and here you are, working like a slave, while I do theelegant leisure at home. It's simply infamous!"

  "Hubby, dear," and Katherine's tone was commanding. "I won't let youabuse yourself like that. In the first place you are working just ashard as I am, with your painting and keeping things cosy here, andaccomplishing just as much. And it's only for a little while. As soonas your picture is done, you'll sell it, and I'll resign and do thehousekeeping myself. You know how gladly you would do the same for me;why won't you let me do it for you? Don't you love me well enough tolet me help you?"

  "Katherine! Katherine!" he cried, "don't say that! Don't question mylove for you."

  "I don't, dear heart, nor should you question mine for you."

  * * * * *

  Long after Katherine had gone to bed, he lay on the rug and watched thefire. Outside, cold, gray Michigan beat against the North Shore withthe sound of the sea. In these last days of despondency the lake hadgrown into a companion with seeming sympathy for every mood of his. Thevast expanse of water seemed to broaden his horizon. Whenever he lookedat it, it suggested a letting-go of all but the vital things. There wasonly one thing that was vital, and she slept in the little room beyond.Even his art counted for nothing beside her, but she believed in it,and he must make something of it to please her. The shadows deepeneduntil even the gold candlesticks ceased to shine, and he went to thewindow. Slow, sombre, and restless, old Michigan chafed against theshore. At times those cold arms beckoned him with compelling strength,and it was so to-night. Katherine would go home to her father, and, intime, forget him. He pulled down the shade, shuddering as he did so,and at last fell asleep with a consciousness of utter defeat.

  * * * * *

  "It's busy I am these days. Misther Carroll, do be afther wantin' topaint me."

  "Paint you, Carrot-Top! And thin may the blessed saints injuce him tomake the hid of yez, some other colour."

  "Ah, go on wid yez! What is the likes of yez to know about art?"

  It was Mickey in the yard below, blarneying with the milk boy. Thevoices awoke Carroll, and he discovered it was very late, indeed, andthat Katherine had gone down-town without waking him. There was a linepinned to the cushion: "Good-bye, dearest. K."

  Mickey appeared at the back door while he was f
inishing his breakfast.With unheard-of kindness, she offered to put things right in thestudio, and he left her in charge with some misgivings. But themarketing had to be done, and it would be impossible to work rightlywithout a breath of fresh air.

  When he returned every chair was set demurely and properly against thewall and Mickey sat on the floor with his cherished portfolio of Gibsonpictures in her lap. He repressed an angry exclamation, and orderedher, somewhat sternly, to put them back.

  She complied readily. "It's cross yez are this morning, MistherCarroll. Thim pictures ain't got no paint on 'em, but I'm thinkin' theydo be better wans than thim ye're afther makin'!"

  Carroll made no reply. It was quite true that the Gibson pictureswere better than his, even without paint, but he did not relish herimpartial announcement of the fact.

  The light was good, and he worked steadily for an hour, at the end ofwhich time Mickey announced the necessity for her immediate departure.In vain he protested and pleaded. The picture was nearly done, and onlya few more sittings would be needed. But Mickey was "goin' to thetheayter wid a coosin--" and she went.

  So he put the house in order and decided he would make a cake forsupper. He had never done anything of the kind, and Katherine foundhim still deep in the problem when she returned. He couldn't find thecook-book, he said, so he just threw a few things in, the way shedid when she made cake. It was going to be light too, for he had putin half a cupful of baking powder. Katherine laughed until the tearsrolled down her cheeks. It was a mean woman, Robert said, who wouldgo down-town and leave her husband with no cook-book! She pointed itout to him on the corner of the shelf, and he twisted his mustachethoughtfully, forgetting the flour with which his hand was covered.It took them both to make him presentable again, and then Katherinethrew the cake away, and in a very few minutes made the lightest, mostwonderful biscuit that ever gave a man the dyspepsia.

  Mickey was faithful during the following week, and the "Aurora" wasfinished almost to his satisfaction. It was placed on sale in a WabashAvenue gallery, and they anxiously watched the newspapers for notices.None came, however, and Robert became despondent. An idea came toKatherine, and she went with fear and trembling to the art critic ofthe _Express_, whose judgment was accepted as law and gospel.

  Unlike most women she came to the point at once: "Mr. Lester," shesaid, "my husband has a picture on exhibition at Stanley & Brown's,and a favourable notice would mean much to us both. None of the papershave spoken of it, and I have been wondering if you could not help us alittle."

  Philosophers have not yet determined why a woman feels free to askanything of a rejected lover, nor why men so willingly grant favours towomen whom they have loved in vain.

  "Mrs. Carroll," Lester replied, "I should be only too glad to be ofservice to either you or your husband, but I have seen the picture, andI cannot conscientiously speak favourably of it. In fact, I had writtena roast, and out of consideration to you burned it up."

  Katherine's face fell and her eyes filled. He was afraid she was goingto cry, and he went on--"But I'll tell you what I will do. I am calledout of the city to-morrow, and it is the day for my notes; I'll askCarleton to let you do my work. You can write what you please."

  She clutched the friendly straw gladly. "You are very, very good. Butplease tell me what is the matter with the picture."

  "Only one thing, Mrs. Carroll; it lacks humanity. Pictures must bepainted from a human standpoint. No doubt you will see what I mean ifyou will look at it critically. I haven't time to stop any longer now,but I'll tell Carleton."

  An hour later, Katherine was summoned to the office of the managingeditor. "Mrs. Carroll," he said, "Lester tells me he is called outof the city and suggests you as the proper person to do his work. Ibelieve it is a little out of your line, but you can try. Miss Scottwill do your department to-day, and you can take this afternoon to lookaround."

  So the newly fledged art critic went out to find her copy. There wereseveral pictures to be noted and she spoke as kindly as she could ofall, trying to mingle helpful criticism with discerning praise. Nonewere condemned, for she knew what a picture might mean to the artist,and to the woman who loved him.

  Unconsciously, she imitated Lester's style; his full, well-roundedperiods, and sharp, incisive sentences. Very different it was from thechatty, gossipy way in which she filled the "Woman's Kingdom," on theback page of the _Express_.

  She was afraid to say too much of Robert's work, and toned down herenthusiasm three successive times. The last note satisfied her and shesent it up-stairs with the rest.

  When the paper came in the morning, he turned feverishly to the pagewhich contained the "Art of the Week." His shout of joy woke Katherineand together they laughed and cried over the "good notice."

  She felt wicked, but his pleasure was full compensation for her pangsof conscience. "Lester's approval is worth a thousand dollars," hesaid. "I can go to work in earnest now."

  Her face changed mysteriously. An overwhelming sense of the wrong shehad done, came upon her, and he looked at her steadily. There was aqueer note in his voice when he spoke: "Katherine Carroll, I believeyou wrote that notice."

  It was useless to dissemble longer and she told the whole story. He wasdeeply touched by this proof of her devotion, but he shook his headsadly over Lester's own comment.

  "It won't help any, little girl; you can't make fame for me in thatway. My work must stand or fall on its own merits--and--it seems likelyto fall."

  She tried to comfort him, but he put her away. "No, it's all wrong. I'mgoing to give it up, and try something else."

  After she had gone, he put his easel and paints away, and set the housein order. Then he went into the city, as so many have done before,to find work, which seems little enough to ask in so great a world.At five he returned, utterly tired and cast down. He had tramped thestreets for hours and had found absolutely nothing to do.

  Half unconsciously, he turned to the window--to the vision of the lakewhich had meant strength before, but it brought only weakness now."Come,--come--come--" the waves seemed to say--instead of being coldand cruel, they were promising infinite rest. And it meant a luxurioushome for Katherine.

  His decision was quickly made, and he wrote a tender note to leave forher. He sobbed over that--for it wasn't like painting--he was puttinghis heart into it. Then down to the inland sea he went, those impatientarms beckoning him still.

  But Katherine had felt in the office that something was wrong withRobert. A pang of sudden fear made it impossible for her to work anylonger, and she hurried home. She found the note at once, and seeingonly the "good-bye" at the end she hastened to the door.

  "Robert, Robert!" she called, but he was too far away to hear her. AndKatherine ran, crying as she went, "Dear God, make me in time!"

  He stood at the end of the pier, old and decayed as it was, and lookedat the sea and sky for the last time. The sunset gates behind him,royally beautiful with purple and gold, seemed a glimpse of the heavenhe hardly hoped to reach, for though he knew that God was infinitelymerciful, he knew that He was also infinitely just. He took off hiscoat and laid it on the pier, just as Katherine, breathless, excited,her face tense with appeal, appeared beside him.

  His eyes lighted for a moment at the sight of her, then returnedto their dull, hopeless look. "It's no use, Katherine," he saidunsteadily, "go back, darling."

  "Not alone, dearest."

  "Yes, Katherine," he kissed her sadly.

  For minutes which seemed like hours, she stood there arguing, pleading,begging in vain. It was best for her--that was his one thought. He wasa dull, dead weight upon her; it was right to make her free. And theblue arms beckoned still.

  Suddenly she drew his face down to hers and whispered to him. What shesaid seemed to rouse him from himself.

  "Really?"

  "Yes, really. Can you leave me now?"

  Something more than the glory of the sunset shone in Katherine's faceas she stood between him and the water. She was subtly bea
utiful, withthe infinite motherhood, which lives in every woman's heart, and ashe looked at her, the shackles of his dead cowardly self fell away. Agreat resolve within him slowly swelled into a controlling power--hewould be worthy of her who stood beside him, cost what it might. Hisvoice was tender and caressing when he spoke again.

  "Leave you? No, Katherine, no."

  They walked home together and spoke of other things. There was astronger bond between them, and the water seemed cold and bitternow--very different from the eerie, half-human thing that had temptedhim an hour ago.

  He tossed restlessly through the night, thinking of what Lester hadsaid about painting from a human standpoint. Perhaps he meant that heshould paint men and women, instead of goddesses.

  The vision of Katherine came into his mind as she stood with the bluewater behind her and the sunset upon her face and hair; her eyes fullof earthly longing, and more than earthly appeal. He would paint herlike that, and he roused from his cowardly lethargy into high resolve.

  Her salary was raised and she worked happily at the office, whileRobert painted at home. In the evening she sat and sewed on tinygarments for the human secret, which spring was to reveal. He sat andlooked at her, seldom speaking, content to watch the holy joy in herface, and either that or his coming fatherhood, sometimes thrilled himwith a tenderness so great that his love was almost joy.

  The "Aurora" had been sold, not for a large sum, it is true, butfor enough to take care of them both until the new picture shouldbe finished. It was done at last and placed on sale. Painted from ahuman standpoint it undoubtedly was, and it drew many admirers but nopurchaser. For four weeks it had been at the gallery and Robert beganto grow despondent again.

  A fall morning dawned, gray and dull, and the lake seemed to tremblewith portent of coming disaster. At night the wind rose and lashed thewater into seething foam. The sound of the storm made Katherine afraid,but she sank into a fitful slumber at last, while Robert kept a lightin the window, hoping none were at sea.

  But at half-past eleven there was a terrific rap at the door. It wasMickey, disheveled and breathless.

  "There do be a wreck, Misther Carroll," she cried, "there's sky-rocketsgoin' off and the life crew be ordered out, and I thought ye'd beafther wantin' to see it."

  The thing was evidently a circus for Mickey; we hold life so lightly atthe age of sixteen.

  Katherine, trembling and afraid, was already at the door. She wrung herhands, crying piteously, "Oh, Robert! Robert! don't go."

  "I must go, sweetheart, they may need me."

  "Then I am going too." And she began to hurry into her clothes.

  "Dress warmly, dear," he called.

  "Yes, I will, and we must take some blankets with us."

  Once outside they had no difficulty in locating the wreck. The northernsky was aflame with rockets, and people from all directions werehurrying northward.

  The Northwestern University life crew was already on the beach tryingto shoot a line to the sinking ship, half a mile from the shore. Theboat had been ordered back, for it was certain death in such a sea. Thefourth attempt was successful and a shout of joy went up, dimly heardabove the storm.

  Mickey danced about excitedly as they tied rope after rope of greaterstrength to the slender cord, that had been shot to the upper deck, butKatherine felt faint, even with her husband's arm around her, whenthey made preparations to pull the ship's life-boat ashore.

  It required almost superhuman strength, but the rush of waterwestward aided them materially. Katherine never forgot that time ofwaiting--human lives on shore struggling to save the human lives atsea, and the tense cruel crash of the cold waves.

  Lifted high upon an angry crest, the boat was dashed heavily uponthe beach. The captain of the stranded vessel, eight seamen and onepassenger, were helped out with eager hands.

  The passenger was a middle-aged man, who appeared dignified andprosperous, in spite of his damp and disheveled condition. His firstremark was in the nature of a recapitulation.

  "Well, of all the excitin' trips!"

  Robert and Katherine laughed in spite of themselves, and hastened toextend to the stranger the hospitality of their little home for theremainder of the night. It was barely one o'clock, and the HonourableMr. Marchand accepted gladly, if not gratefully.

  He trudged sturdily along in the blankets they had wrapped around him,disdaining Robert's proffered assistance, but once stretched out upontheir couch before a blazing fire, he became much more tractable. Hecalled for a glass of whiskey complaining that what he had been throughwould be enough to kill him if he didn't at once supply this long-feltwant of the inner man. A telephone message to the nearest drug storebrought the quart of stimulant he thought he needed for the night, andwhen he was comfortably filled with his favourite beverage, life beganto assume a more pleasant aspect. He graphically told the story of thewreck to his interested listeners and then imbibed a little more liquidnourishment. After a while he remarked sagely--"It's a lucky thing Ididn't go down, some folks would have lost millions."

  "Is that so?" asked Katherine pleasantly.

  "Yes, _millions_! Look here, young woman, did you ever hear of asyndicate?"

  Katherine thought she had heard the word somewhere.

  "Well, I'm one of 'em!"

  The whiskey was evidently getting in its work in the way of lubricatingthe tongue of the shipwrecked capitalist, and after waiting a moment,he continued:

  "I'm on my way to Chicago to perfect a combine in--" and he astoundedKatherine by unfolding the inside history of a daring and infamouscombination--a gigantic steal, which if consummated, would change theownership of millions. He named the leading conspirators, explained thevulnerable points in the scheme, and gleefully boasted of his own skilland diplomacy.

  He finally fell asleep, but not until Katherine had got all thenecessary points concerning the outrageous robbery which had been soadroitly planned.

  Robert met her at the door. "Got a scoop?"

  "Well, I should say so. A big one too!"

  "How do you know it is true?"

  "_In vino veritas_," whispered Katherine. "Besides, Carleton told oneof our night men the other day, that promotion was in store for thefellow who 'got on to' any of the schemes of this new syndicate." Shehad heard so much newspaper slang that her lapse from the grammaticalstandard was perhaps pardonable.

  Until nearly three o'clock she wrote hurriedly a description of thewreck, and also of the new "combine," Robert dozing in an easychair meanwhile. She woke him up to give him her manuscript. "To thetelegraph office, quick! It'll be in time for the city edition."

  The Honourable Mr. Marchand slept late the next morning, and Katharinesent word to the office that she could not come until the next day.About noon, however, their guest took his departure, apparently butlittle the worse for his vivid night's experience. At a corner hebought a copy of the morning's _Express_ and shortly thereafter leanedup against a wall for support. "Gee whiz!" The Honourable Mr. Marchandmopped his brow and read the startling headlines again. "Might as wellgo back to Cincinnati and Cleveland and Toronto, and all them townsI've just come from! Wonder how in thunder the thing ever got out!"

  He strolled down Wabash Avenue to collect his scattered thoughts, andstopped half mechanically, to look into Stanley & Brown's window.Carroll's painting stared him full in the face, and a great light brokein upon him.

  "That's her! That's the girl what done it! Blamed if I don't like herfor it!"

  That afternoon a messenger boy rapped at the studio door with a letterfrom the _Express_ office for Katherine.

  "Dear Mrs. Carroll," it ran, "we think you deserve a two weeks'vacation at full salary which is now double the former sum, and webeg you to accept the enclosed check as a slight testimonial of ourgratitude for the biggest scoop of the year. Please report for duty onthe eighteenth, and be ready to take the exchange editor's desk."

  She was dazed. "Two weeks' vacation, double salary, promotion, and----"

  R
obert picked it up, it was a check for two hundred dollars.

  During the jubilation which followed, a telegraph boy poundedvigorously at the door, but he might as well have kept still, since hisefforts were unheard. Finally he opened it, and utterly unabashed bythe spectacle of a gentleman kissing a lady, and the lady seeming toenjoy it, he fairly shrieked: "TELEGRAM."

  Katherine vanished instantly, and Carroll read the despatch.

  "Picture sold for highest price. Purchaser unknown.

  "STANLEY & BROWN."

  The mythical "quail on toast" became a reality that night, and thehouse seemed far too small to hold so much exuberant joy. In themorning, they went together to Stanley & Brown's to collect the picturemoney, and start a "really truly bank account," as Katherine said.

  The firm was quite at a loss to know who the purchaser was, as he tookthe picture away with him in a carriage, and paid cash instead ofby check, but the man who helped him put it on the back seat of thecarriage reported that he had muttered to himself, as he was climbingin: "That's her! That's the girl what done it!" This may have given Mr.and Mrs. Carroll some clue to the identity of the unknown benefactor.