the conflict-第18节

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；　‘‘that　popsy　would　see　through　it　all。''

When　she　reappeared　in　the　front　doorway　Victor　Dorn　was　at　the　edge　of　the　veranda；　ready　to　depart。　　As　soon　as　he　saw　her　he　said　gravely：　　‘‘I　must　be　off；　Miss　Hastings。　　Thank　you　for　the　very　interesting　dinner。''　　He　extended　his　hand。　　‘‘Good　day。''

She　put　her　hands　behind　her　back；　and　stood　smiling　gently　at　him。　　‘‘You　mustn't　gonot　just　yet。　　I'm　about　to　show　you　the　trees　and　the　grass；　the　bees；　the　chickens　and　the　cows。　　Also；　I've　something　important　to　say　to　you。''

He　shook　his　head。　　‘‘I'm　sorry；　but　I　must　go。''

She　stiffened　slightly；　her　smile　changed　from　friendly　to　cold。　　‘‘Ohpardon　me；''　she　said。　　‘‘Good…by。''

He　bowed；　and　was　on　the　walk；　and　running　rapidly　toward　the　entrance　gates。

‘‘Mr。　Dorn！''　she　called。

He　turned。

She　was　afraid　to　risk　asking　him　to　come　back　for　a　moment。　　He　might　refuse。　　Standing　there；　looking　so　resolute；　so　completely　master　of　himself；　so　devoid　of　all　suggestion　of　need　for　any　one　or　anything；　he　seemed　just　the　man　to　turn　on　his　heel　and　depart。　　She　descended　to　the　walk　and　went　to　him。　　She　said：

‘‘Why　are　you　acting　so　peculiarly？　　Why　did　you　come？''

‘‘Because　I　understood　that　your　father　wished　to　propose　some　changes　in　the　way　of　better　hours　and　better　wages　for　the　men；''　replied　he。　　‘‘I　find　that　the　purpose　wasnot　that。''

‘‘What　was　it？''

‘‘I　do　not　care　to　go　into　that。''

He　was　about　to　go　onon　out　of　her　life　forever；　she　felt。　　‘‘Wait；''　she　cried。　　‘‘The　men　will　get　better　hours　and　wages。　　You　don't　understand　father's　ways。　　He　was　really　discussing　that　very　thingin　his　own　mind。　　You'll　see。　　He　has　a　great　admiration　for　you。　　You　can　do　a　lot　with　him。　　You　owe　it　to　the　men　to　make　use　of　his　liking。''

He　looked　at　her　in　silence　for　a　moment。　　Then　he　said：　　‘‘I'll　have　to　be　at　least　partly　frank　with　you。　　In　all　his　life　no　one　has　ever　gotten　anything　out　of　your　father。　　He　uses　men。　　They　do　not　use　him。''

‘‘Believe　me；　that　is　unjust；''　cried　Jane。　　‘‘I'll　tell　you　another　thing　that　was　on　his　mind。　　He　wants　to　to　make　reparation　forthat　accident　to　your　father。　　He　wants　to　pay　your　mother　and　you　the　money　the　road　didn't　pay　you　when　it　ought。''

Dorn's　candid　face　showed　how　much　he　was　impressed。　　This　beautiful；　earnest　girl；　sweet　and　frank；　seemed　herself　to　be　another　view　of　Martin　Hastings'　characterone　more　in　accord　with　her　strong　belief　in　the　essential　goodness　of　human　nature。

Said　he：　　‘‘Your　father　owes　us　nothing。　　As　for　the　roadits　debt　never　existed　legallyonly　morally。　　And　it　has　been　outlawed　long　agofor　there's　a　moral　statute　of　limitations；　too。　　The　best　thing　that　ever　happened　to　us　was　our　not　getting　that　money。　　It　put　us　on　our　mettle。　　It　might　have　crushed　us。　　It　happened　to　be　just　the　thing　that　was　needed　to　make　us。''

Jane　marveled　at　this　view　of　his　family；　at　the　verge　of　poverty；　as　successful。　　But　she　could　not　doubt　his　sincerity。　　Said　she　sadly；　‘‘But　it's　not　to　the　credit　of　the　roador　of　father。　　He　must　payand　he　knows　he　must。''

‘‘We　can't　accept；''　said　Dorna　finality。

‘‘But　you　could　use　it　to　build　up　the　paper；''　urged　Jane；　to　detain　him。

‘‘The　paper　was　started　without　money。　　It　lives　without　moneyand　it　will　go　on　living　without　money；　or　it　ought　to　die。''

‘‘I　don't　understand；''　said　Jane。　　‘‘But　I　want　to　understand。　　I　want　to　help。　　Won't　you　let　me？''

He　shook　his　head　laughingly。　　‘‘Help　what？''　inquired　he。　　‘‘Help　raise　the　sun？　　It　doesn't　need　help。''

Jane　began　to　see。　　‘‘I　mean；　I　want　to　be　helped；''　she　cried。

‘‘Oh；　that's　another　matter；''　said　he。　　‘‘And　very　simple。''

‘‘Will　YOU　help　me？''

‘‘I　can't。　　No　one　can。　　You've　got　to　help　yourself。　　Each　one　of　us　is　working　for　himselfworking　not　to　be　rich　or　to　be　famous　or　to　be　envied；　but　to　be　free。''

‘‘Working　for　himselfthat　sounds　selfish；　doesn't　it？''

‘‘If　you　are　wise；　Jane　Hastings；''　said　Dorn；　‘‘you　will　distrustdisbelieve　inanything　that　is　not　selfish。''

Jane　reflected。　　‘‘YesI　see；''　she　cried。　　‘‘I　never　thought　of　that！''

‘‘A　friend　of　mine；　Wentworth；''　Victor　went　on；　‘‘has　put　it　wonderfully　clearly。　　He　said；　‘Some　day　we　shall　realize　that　no　man　can　be　free　until　all　men　are　free。'　''

‘‘You　HAVE　helped　mein　spite　of　your　fierce　refusal；''　laughed　Jane。　　‘‘You　are　very　impatient　to　go；　aren't　you？　　Well；　since　you　won't　stay　I'll　walk　with　youas　far　as　the　end　of　the　shade。''

She　was　slightly　uneasy　lest　her　overtures　should　be　misunderstood。　　By　the　time　they　reached　the　first　long；　sunny　stretch　of　the　road　down　to　town　she　was　so　afraid　that　those　overtures　would　not　be　‘‘misunderstood''　that　she　marched　on　beside　him　in　the　hot　sun。　　She　did　not　leave　him　until　they　reached　the　corner　of　Pike　avenueand　then　it　was　he　that　left　her；　for　she　could　cudgel　out　no　excuse　for　going　further　in　his　direction。　　The　only　hold　she　had　got　upon　him　for　a　future　attempt　was　slight　indeedhe　had　vaguely　agreed　to　lend　her　some　books。

People　who　have　nothing　to　do　get　rid　of　a　great　deal　of　time　in　trying　to　make　impressions　and　in　speculating　as　to　what　impressions　they　have　made。　　Janehastening　toward　Martha's　to　get　out　of　the　sun　which　could　not　but　injure　a　complexion　so　delicately　fine　as　hersgave　herself　up　to　this　form　of　occupation。　　What　did　he　think　of　her？　　Did　he　really　have　as　little　sense　of　her　physical　charm　as　he　seemed？　　No　woman　could　hope　to　be　attractive　to　every　man。　　Stillthis　man　surely　must　be　at　least　not　altogether　insensible。　　‘‘If　he　sends　me　those　books　to…dayor　tomorrow　or　even　next　day；''　thought　Jane；　‘‘it　will　be　a　pretty　sure　sign　that　he　was　impressedwhether　he　knows　it　or　not。''

She　had　now　definitely　passed　beyond　the　stage　where　she　wondered　at　herselfand　reproached　herselffor　wishing　to　win　a　man　of　such　common　origin　and　surroundings。　　She　could　not　doubt　Victor　Dorn's　superiority。　　Such　a　man　as　that　didn't　need　birth　or　wealth　or　even　fame。　　He　simply　WAS　the　man　worth　while　worth　any　woman's　while。　　How　could　Selma　be　associated　so　intimately　with　him　without　trying　to　get　him　in　love　with　her？　　Perhaps　she　had　tried　and　had　given　up？　　NoSelma　was　as　strange　in　her　way　as　he　was　in　his　way。　　What　a　strangeoriginalINDIVIDUAL　pair　they　were！

‘‘But；''　concluded　Jane；　‘‘he　belongs　with　US。　　I　must　take　him　away　from　all　that。　　It　will　be　interesting　to　do　itso　interesting　that　I'll　be　sorry　when　it's　done；　and　I'll　be　looking　about　for　something　else　to　do。''

She　was　not　without　hope　that　the　books　would　come　that　same　evening。　　But　they　did　not。　　The　next　day　passed；　and　the　next；　and　still　no　books。　　Apparently　he　had　meant　nothing　by　his　remark；　‘‘I've　some　books　you'd　be　interested　to　read。''　　Was　his　silence　indifference；　or　was　it　shyness？　　Probably　she　could　only　faintly　appreciate　the　effect　her　position；　her　surroundings　produced　in　this　man　whose　physical　surroundings　had　always　been　as　poor　as　her　mental　surroundings　those　created　by　that　marvelous　mind　of　hishad　been　splendid。

She　tried　to　draw　out　her　father　on　the　subject　of　the　young　man；　with　a　view　to　getting　a　hint　as　to　whether　he　purposed　doing　anything　further。　　But　old　Hastings　would　not　talk　about　it；　he　was　still　debating；　was　looking　at　the　matter　from　a　standpoint　where　his　daughter's　purely　theoretical　acumen　could　not　help　him　to　a　decision。　　Jane　rather　feared　that　where　her　father　was　evidently　so　doubtful　he　would　follow　his　invariable　rule　in　doubtful　cases。

On　the　fourth　day；　being　still　unable　to　think　of　anything　but　her　project　for　showing　her　prowess　by　conquering　this　man　with　no　time　for　women；　she　donned　a　severely　plain　walking　costume　and　went　to　his　office。

At　the　threshold　of　the　‘‘Sanctum''　she　stopped　short。　　Selma；　pencil　poised　over　her　block　of　copy　paper　and　every　indication　of　impatience；　albeit　polite　impatience；　in　her　fascinating　Cossack　face；　was　talking　toor；　rather；　listening　toDavid　Hull。　　Like　not　a　few　young　menand　young　womenbrought　up　in　circumstances　that　surround　them　with　people　deferential　for　the　sake　of　what　there　is；　or　may　possibly　be；　in　itDavy　Hull　had　the　habit　of　assuming　that　all　the　world　was　as　fond　of　listening　to　him　as　he　was　of　listening　to　himself。　　So　it　did　not　often　occur　to　him　to　observe　his　audience　for　signs　of　a　willingness　to　end　the　conversation。

Selma；　turning　a　little　further　in　her　nervousness；　saw　Jane　and　sprang　up　with　a　radiant　smile　of　welcome。

‘‘I'm　SO　glad！''　she　cried；　rushing　toward　her　and　kissing　her。　　‘‘I've　thought　about　you　often；　and　wished　I　could　find　time　to　come　to　see　you。''

Jane　was　suddenly　as　delighted　as　Selma。　　For　Selma's　burst　of　friendliness；　so　genuine；　so　unaffected；　in　this　life　of　blackness　and　cold　always　had　the　effect　of　sun　suddenly　making　summer　out　of　a　chill　autumnal　day。　　Nor；　curiously　enough；　was　her　delight　lessened　by　Davy　Hull's　blundering　betrayal　of　himself。　　His　color；　his　eccentric　twitchings　of　the　lips　and　the　hands　would　have　let　a　far　less　astute　young　woman　than　Jane　Hastings　into　the　secret　of　the　reason　for　his　presence　in　that　office　when　he　had　said　he　couldn't　‘‘afford''　to　go。　　So　gui