The immense frame of J. Wilton Ames bent slightly, and the great legs might have been seen to drag a bit, as the man entered his private elevator the morning after his rejection of the mill hands’ demands, and turned the lever that caused the lift to soar lightly to his office above. And a mouse––had the immaculate condition of his luxurious sanctum permitted such an alien dweller––could have seen him sink heavily into his great desk chair, and lapse into deep thought. Hood, Willett, and Hodson entered in turn; but the magnate gave them scant consideration, and at length waved them all away, and bent anew to his meditations.

Truth to tell––though he would not have owned it––the man was now dimly conscious of a new force at work upon him; of a change, slowly, subtly taking place somewhere deep within. He was feebly cognizant of emotions quite unknown; of unfamiliar sentiments, whose outlines were but just crystallizing out from the thick magma of his materialistic soul.

And he fought them; he hated them; they made him appear unto himself weak, even effeminate! His abhorrence of sentimentalism had been among the strongest of his life-characteristics; and yet, though he could not define it, a mellowing something seemed to be acting upon him that dull, bitterly cold winter morning, that shed a soft glow throughout his mental chambers, that seemed to touch gently the hard, rugged things of thought that lay within, and soften away their sharp outlines. He might not know what lay so heavily upon his thought, as he sat there alone, with his head sunk upon his breast. And yet the girl who haunted his dreams would have told him that it was an interrogation, even the eternal question, “What shall it profit a man––?”

Suddenly he looked up. The door had opened, he thought. Then he sat bolt upright and stared.

“Good morning, Mr. Ames. May I come in?”

Come in! Had ever such heavenly music touched his ears before! This was not another dream! The vision this time was real! He sprang to his feet. He would have held out his arms to her if he could.

And yet, how dared she come to him? How dared she, after what she had done? Was this fresh affrontery? Had she come again to flout him? To stand within the protection which her sex afforded and vivisect anew his tired soul? But, whatever her motives, this girl did the most daring things he had ever seen a woman do.

“Isn’t it funny,” she said, as she stood before him with a whimsical little smile, “that wherever I go people so seldom ask me to sit down!”

Ames sank back into his seat without speaking. Carmen stood for a moment looking about her rich environment; then drew up a chair close to him.

“You haven’t the slightest idea why I have come here, have you?” she said sweetly, looking up into his face.

“I must confess myself quite ignorant of the cause of this unexpected pleasure,” he returned guardedly, bending his head in mock deference, while the great wonder retained possession of him.

“Well,” she went on lightly, “will you believe me when I tell you that I have come here because I love you?”

Aha! A dark suspicion sprang up within him. So this was an attack from a different quarter! Hitt and Haynerd had invoked her feminine wiles, eh?

Nonsense! With one blow the unfamiliar sentiment which had been shedding its influence upon him that morning laid the ugly suspicion dead at his feet. A single glance into that sweet face turned so lovingly up to his brought his own deep curse upon himself for his hellish thought.

“You know,” she bubbled, with a return of her wonted airy gaiety, “I just had to run the gauntlet through guards and clerks and office boys to get here. Aren’t you glad I didn’t send in my card? For then you would have refused to see me, wouldn’t you?”

“I would not!” he replied harshly. Then he repented his tone. “If I had known you were out there,” he said more gently, “I’d have sent out and had you dragged in. I––I have wanted something this morning; and now I am sure it was––”

“Yes,” she interrupted, taking the words out of his mouth, “you wanted me. I knew you would. You see, it’s just absolutely impossible to oppose anybody who loves you. You know, that’s the very method Jesus gave for overcoming our enemies––to 194 love them, just love them to pieces, until we find that we haven’t any enemies at all any more. Isn’t it simple? My! Well, that’s the way I’ve been doing with you––just loving you.”

The man’s brows knotted, and his lips tightened. Was this girl ridiculing him? Or was there aught but the deepest sincerity expressed in the face from which he could not take his eyes? Impossible! And yet, did ever human being talk so strangely, so weirdly, as she?

He bent a little closer to her. “Did you say that you loved me?” he asked. “I thought you looked upon me as a human monster.” After all, there was a note of pathos in the question. Carmen laid her hand upon his.

“It’s the real you that I love,” she answered gently. “The monster is only human thought––the thought that has seemed to mesmerize you. But you are going to throw off the mesmerism, aren’t you? I’ll help you,” she added brightly. “You’re going to put off the ‘old man’ completely––and you’re going to begin by opening yourself and letting in a little love for those poor people down at Avon, aren’t you? Yes, you are!”

At the mention of the people of Avon his face became stern and dark. And yet she spoke of them alone. She had not mentioned the Beaubien, Miss Wall, the Express, nor herself. He noted this, and wondered.

“You see, you don’t understand, Mr. Ames. You’ll be, oh, so surprised some day when you learn a little about the laws of thought––even the way human thought operates! For you can’t possibly do another person an injury without that injury flying back and striking you. It’s a regular boomerang! You may not feel the effects of its return right away––but it does return, and the effects accumulate. And then, some day, when you least expect it, comes the crash! But, when you love a person, why, that comes back to you too; and it never comes alone. It just brings loads of good with it. It helps you, and everybody. Oh, Mr. Ames,” she cried, suddenly rising and seizing both his hands, “you’ve just got to love those people down there! You can’t help it, even if you think you can, for hate is not real––it’s an awful delusion!”

It was not so much an appeal which the girl made as an affirmation of things true and yet to come. The mighty Thou shalt not! which Moses laid upon his people, when transfused by the omnipotent love of the Christ was transformed from a clanking chain into a silken cord. The restriction became a prophecy; for when thou hast yielded self to the benign influence of the Christ-principle, then, indeed, thou shalt not desire to break the law of God.

Carmen returned to her chair, and sat eagerly expectant. Ames groped within his thought for a reply. And then his mental grasp closed upon the words of Hood.

“They are very bitter against me––they hate me!” he retorted lamely.

“Ah, yes,” she said quickly. “They reflect in kind your thought of them. Your boomerangs of greed, of exploitation, of utter indifference which you have hurled at them, have returned upon you in hatred. Do you know that hatred is a fearful poison? And do you know that another’s hatred resting upon you is deadly, unless you know how to meet and neutralize it with love? For love is the neutralizing alkaloid.”

“Love is––weakness,” he said in a low tone. “That kind, at least.”

“Love weakness! Oh! Why, there is no such mighty power in the whole universe as love! It is omnipotent! It is hatred that is weak!”

Ames made a little gesture of contempt. “We argue from different standpoints,” he said. “I am a plain, matter-of-fact, cold-blooded business man. There is no love in business!”

“And that,” she replied in a voice tinged with sadness, “is why business is such chaos; why there is so much failure, so much anxiety, fear, loss, and unhappiness in the business world. Mr. Ames, you haven’t the slightest conception of real business, have you?”

She sat for a moment in thought. Then, brightly, “I am in business, Mr. Ames––?”

“Humph! I am forced to agree with you there! The business of attempting to annihilate me!”

“I am in the business of reflecting good to you, and to all mankind,” she gently corrected.

“Then suppose you manifest your love for me by refraining from meddling further in my affairs. Suppose from now on you let me alone.”

“Why––I am not meddling with you, Mr. Ames!”

“No?” He opened a drawer of the desk and took out several copies of the Express. “I am to consider that this is not strictly meddling, eh?” he continued, as he laid the papers before her.

“No, not at all,” she promptly replied. “That’s uncovering evil, so’s it can be destroyed. All that evil, calling itself you and your business, has got to come to the surface––has got to come up to the light, so that it can be––”

“Ah! I see. Then I, the monster, must be exposed, eh? And afterward destroyed. A very pretty little idea! And the mines and mills which I own––”

“You own nothing, Mr. Ames, except by consent of the people whom you oppress. They will wake up some day; and then state and national ownership of public utilities will come, forced by such as you.”

“And that desideratum will result in making everybody honest, I suppose?”

“No,” she answered gravely. “We must go deeper than that. All our present troubles, whether domestic, business, civic, or social, come from a total misapprehension of the nature of God––a misunderstanding of what is really good. We have all got to prove Him. And we are very foolish to lose any more time setting about it, don’t you think so?

“You see,” she went on, while he sat studying her, “those poor people down at Avon don’t know any more about what is the real good than you do. And that’s why their thoughts and yours center upon the false pleasures of this ephemeral existence called life––this existence of the so-called physical senses––and why you both become the tools of vice, disease, and misfortune. They build up such men as you, and then you turn about and crush them. And in the end you are both what the Bible says––poor, deluded fools.”

“Well, I’ll be––”

“Oh, don’t swear!” she pleaded, again seizing his hand and laughing up into his face. But then her smile vanished.

“It’s time you started to prove God,” she said earnestly. “Won’t you begin now––to-day? Haven’t you yet learned that evil is the very stupidest, dullest, most uninteresting thing in the world? It is, really. Won’t you turn from your material endeavors now, and take time to learn to really live? You’ve got plenty of time, you know, for you aren’t obliged to work for a living.”

She was leaning close to him, and her breath touched his cheek. Her soft little hand lay upon his own. And her great, dark eyes looked into his with a light which he knew, despite his perverted thought, came from the unquenchable flame of her selfless love.

Again that unfamiliar sentiment––nay, rather, that sentiment long dormant––stirred within him. Again his worldly concepts, long entrenched, instantly rose to meet and overthrow it. He had not yet learned to analyze the thoughts which crept so silently into his ever-open mentality. To all alike he gave free access. And to those which savored of things earthy he still gave the power to build, with himself as a willing tool.

“You will––help me––to live?” he said. He thought her the most gloriously beautiful object he had ever known, as she sat there before him, so simply gowned, and yet clothed with that which all the gold of Ophir could not have bought.

“Yes, gladly––oh, so gladly!” Her eyes sparkled with a rush of tears.

“Don’t you think,” he said gently, drawing his chair a little closer to her, “that we have quite misunderstood each other? I am sure we have.”

“Perhaps so,” she answered thoughtfully. “But,” with a happy smile again lighting her features, “we can understand each other now, can’t we?”

“Of course we can! And hasn’t the time come for us to work together, instead of continuing to oppose each other?”

“Yes! yes, indeed!” she cried eagerly.

“I––I have been thinking so ever since I returned yesterday from Washington. I am––I––”

“We need each other, don’t we?” the artless girl exclaimed, as she beamed upon him.

“I am positive of it!” he said with suggestive emphasis. “I can help you––more than you realize––and I want to. I––I’ve been sorry for you, little girl, mighty sorry, ever since that story got abroad about––”

“Oh, never mind that!” she interrupted happily. “We are living in the present, you know.”

“True––and in the future. But things haven’t been right for you. And I want to see them straightened out. And you and I can do it, little one. Madam Beaubien hasn’t been treated right, either. And––”

“There!” she laughed, holding up a warning finger. “We’re going to forget that in the good we’re going to do, aren’t we?”

“Yes, that’s so. And you are going to get a square deal. Now, I’ve got a plan to make everything right. I want to see you in the place that belongs to you. I want to see you happy, and surrounded by all that is rightfully yours. And if you will join me, we will bring that all about. I told you this once before, you may remember.”

He stopped and awaited the effect of his words upon the girl.

“But, Mr. Ames,” she replied, her eyes shining with a great hope, “don’t think about me! It’s the people at Avon that I want to help.”

“We’ll help them, you and I. We’ll make things right all round. And Madam Beaubien shall have no further trouble. Nor shall the Express.”

“Oh, Mr. Ames! Do you really mean it? And––Sidney?”

“Sidney shall come home––”

With a rush the impulsive girl, forgetting all but the apparent success of her mission, threw herself upon him and clasped her arms about his neck. “Oh,” she cried, “it is love that has done all this! And it has won you!”

The startled man strained the girl tightly in his arms. He could feel the quick throbbing in her throat. Her warm breath played upon his cheek like fitful tropic breezes. For a brief moment the supreme gift of the universe seemed to be laid at his feet. For a fleeting interval the man of dust faded, and a new being, pure and white, seemed to rise within him.

“Yes,” he murmured gently, “we’ll take him to our home with us.”

Slowly, very slowly, the girl released herself from his embrace and stepped back. “With––us?” she murmured, searching his face for the meaning which she had dimly discerned in his words.

“Yes––listen!” He reached forward and with a quick movement seized her hand. “Listen, little girl. I want you––I want you! Not now––no, you needn’t come to me until you are ready. But say that you will come! Say that! Why, I didn’t know until to-day what it was that was making me over! It’s you! Don’t go! Don’t––”

Carmen had struggled away from him, and, with a look of bewilderment upon her face, was moving toward the door. “Oh, I didn’t know,” she murmured, “that you were––were––proposing marriage to me!”

“Don’t you understand?” he pursued. “We’ll just make all things new! We’ll begin all over again, you and I! Why, I’ll do anything––anything in the world you say, Carmen, if you will come to me––if you will be my little wife!

“I know––I know,” he hastily resumed, as she halted and stood seemingly rooted to the floor, “there is a great difference in our ages. But that is nothing––many happy marriages are made between ages just as far apart as ours. Think––think what it means to you! I’ll make you a queen! I’ll surround you with limitless wealth! I’ll make you leader of society! I’ll make Madam Beaubien rich! I’ll support the Express, and make it what you want it to be! I’ll do whatever you say for the people of Avon! Think, little girl, what depends now upon you!”

Carmen turned and came slowly back to him. “And––you will not do these things––unless I marry you?” she said in a voice scarcely above a whisper.

“I will do them all, Carmen, if you will come to me!”

“But––oh, you were only deceiving me all the time! And now––if I refuse––then what?”

“It depends upon you, entirely––and you will come? Not now––but within the next few months––within the year––tell me that you will!”

“But––you will do these things whether I come to you or not?” she persisted.

“I’ve put it all into your hands,” he answered shortly. “I’ve named the condition.”

A strange look crossed the girl’s face. She stood as if stunned. Then she glanced about in helpless bewilderment.

“I––I––love––you,” she murmured, as she looked off toward the window, but with unseeing eyes. “I would do anything for you that was right. I––love––everybody––everybody; but there are no conditions to my love. Oh!” she suddenly cried, burying her face in her hands and bursting into tears. “You have tried to buy me!”

Ames rose and came to her. Taking her by the hand he led her, unresisting, back to her chair.

“Listen,” he said, bending toward her. “Go home now and think it all over. Then let me know your answer. It was sudden, I admit; I took you by surprise. But––well, you are not going to prevent the accomplishment of all that good, are you? Think! It all depends upon your word!”

The girl raised her tear-stained face. She had been crushed; and another lesson in the cruelty of the human mind––that human mind which has changed not in a thousand years––had been read to her. But again she smiled bravely, as she wiped her eyes.

“It’s all right now,” she murmured. “It was all right all the time––and I was protected.”

Then she turned to him. “Some day,” she said gently, and in a voice that trembled just a little, “you will help the people of Avon, but not because I shall marry you. God does not work that way. I have loved you. And I love them. And nothing can kill that love. God will open the way.”

“Then you refuse my offer, do you?” he asked sharply, as his face set. “Remember, all the blame will be upon you. I have shown you a way out.”

She looked up at him. She saw now with a clairvoyance which separated him from the mask which he had worn. Her glance penetrated until it found his soul.

“You have shown me the depths of the carnal mind,” she slowly replied. “The responsibility is not with me, but with––God. I––I came to-day to––to help you. But now I must leave you––with Him.”

“Humph!”

He stooped and took up her muff which lay upon the floor. As he did so, a letter fell out. He seized it and glanced at the superscription.

“Cartagena! To JosÈ de RincÓn! Another little billet-doux to your priestly lover, eh?”

She looked down at the letter which he held. “It is money,” 200 she said, though her thought seemed far away. “Money that I am sending to a little newsboy who bears his name.”

“Ha! His brat! But, you still love that fallen priest?”

“Yes,” was the whispered answer.

He rose and opened a drawer in his desk. Taking out a paper-bound book, he held it out to the girl. “Look here,” he sneered. “Here’s a little piece of work which your brilliant lover did some time ago. ‘Confessions of a Roman Catholic Priest.’ Do you know the penalty your clerical paramour paid for that, eh? Then I’ll tell you,” bending over close to her ear, “his life!”

Carmen rose unsteadily. The color had fled from her cheeks. She staggered a few steps toward the door, then stopped. “God––is––is––everywhere!” she murmured. It was the refuge of her childhood days.

Then she reeled, and fell heavily to the floor.