The Conflict [60]
men, its women, its children--'' said the girl with heaving bosom and flashing eyes--``only to have most of what it earns filched away from it by your class to waste in foolish luxury!''
``And whose fault is that?'' pleaded Hull.
``The fault of my class,'' replied she. ``Their ignorance, their stupidity--yes, and their foolish cunning that overreaches itself. For they tolerate the abuses of the present system because each man--at least, each man of the ones who think themselves `smart'--imagines that the day is coming when he can escape from the working class and gain the ranks of the despoilers.''
``And you ask ME to come into the party of those people!'' scoffed Davy.
``Yes, Mr. Hull,'' said she--and until then he had not appreciated how lovely her voice was. ``Yes--that is the party for you--for all honest, sincere men who want to have their own respect through and through. To teach those people--to lead them right--to be truthful and just with them--that is the life worth while.''
``But they won't learn. They won't be led right. They are as ungrateful as they are foolish. If they weren't, men like me trying to make a decent career wouldn't have to compromise with the Kellys and the Houses and their masters. What are Kelly and House but leaders of your class? And they lead ten to Victor Dorn's one. Why, any day Dorn's followers may turn on him--and you know it.''
``And what of that?'' cried Selma. ``He's not working to be their leader, but to do what he thinks is right, regardless of consequences. Why is he a happy man, as happiness goes? Why has he gone on his way steadily all these years, never minding setbacks and failures and defeats and dangers? I needn't tell you why.''
``No,'' said Hull, powerfully moved by her earnestness. ``I understand.''
``The finest sentence that ever fell from human lips,'' Selma went on, ``was `Father, forgive them; they know not what they do.' Forgive them--forgive us all-- for when we go astray it is because we are in the dark. And I want you to come with us, Mr. Hull, and help to make it a little less dark. At least, you will then be looking toward the light--and every one turned in that direction counts.''
After a long pause, Hull said:
``Miss Gordon, may I ask you a very personal question?''
``Yes,'' said she.
``Are you in love with Victor Dorn?''
Selma laughed merrily. ``Jane Hastings had that same curiosity,'' said she. ``I'll answer you as I answered her--though she didn't ask me quite so directly. No, I am not in love with him. We are too busy to bother about those things. We have too much to do to think about ourselves.''
``Then--there is no reason why I should not ask you to be my wife--why I should not hope--and try?''
She looked at him with a peculiar smile. ``Yes, there is a very good reason. I do not love you, and I shall not love you. I shall not have time for that sort of thing.''
``Don't you believe in love?''
``I don't believe in much else,'' said she. ``But--not the kind of love you offer me.''
``How do you know?'' cried he. ``I have not told you yet how I feel toward you. I have not----''
``Oh, yes, you have,'' interrupted she. ``This is the second--no, the third time you have seen me. So, the love you offer me can only be of a kind it is not in the least flattering to a woman to inspire. You needn't apologize,'' she went on, laughingly. ``I've no doubt you mean well. You simply don't understand me--my sort of woman.''
``It's you that don't understand, Selma,'' cried he. ``You don't realize how wonderful you are--how much you reveal of yourself at once. I was all but engaged to another woman when I saw you. I've been fighting against my love for you--fighting against the truth that suddenly came to me that you were the only woman I had ever seen who appealed to and aroused and made strong all that is brave and honest in me. Selma, I need you. I am not infatuated.
I am clearer- headed than I ever was in my life. I need you. You can make a man of me.''
She was regarding
``And whose fault is that?'' pleaded Hull.
``The fault of my class,'' replied she. ``Their ignorance, their stupidity--yes, and their foolish cunning that overreaches itself. For they tolerate the abuses of the present system because each man--at least, each man of the ones who think themselves `smart'--imagines that the day is coming when he can escape from the working class and gain the ranks of the despoilers.''
``And you ask ME to come into the party of those people!'' scoffed Davy.
``Yes, Mr. Hull,'' said she--and until then he had not appreciated how lovely her voice was. ``Yes--that is the party for you--for all honest, sincere men who want to have their own respect through and through. To teach those people--to lead them right--to be truthful and just with them--that is the life worth while.''
``But they won't learn. They won't be led right. They are as ungrateful as they are foolish. If they weren't, men like me trying to make a decent career wouldn't have to compromise with the Kellys and the Houses and their masters. What are Kelly and House but leaders of your class? And they lead ten to Victor Dorn's one. Why, any day Dorn's followers may turn on him--and you know it.''
``And what of that?'' cried Selma. ``He's not working to be their leader, but to do what he thinks is right, regardless of consequences. Why is he a happy man, as happiness goes? Why has he gone on his way steadily all these years, never minding setbacks and failures and defeats and dangers? I needn't tell you why.''
``No,'' said Hull, powerfully moved by her earnestness. ``I understand.''
``The finest sentence that ever fell from human lips,'' Selma went on, ``was `Father, forgive them; they know not what they do.' Forgive them--forgive us all-- for when we go astray it is because we are in the dark. And I want you to come with us, Mr. Hull, and help to make it a little less dark. At least, you will then be looking toward the light--and every one turned in that direction counts.''
After a long pause, Hull said:
``Miss Gordon, may I ask you a very personal question?''
``Yes,'' said she.
``Are you in love with Victor Dorn?''
Selma laughed merrily. ``Jane Hastings had that same curiosity,'' said she. ``I'll answer you as I answered her--though she didn't ask me quite so directly. No, I am not in love with him. We are too busy to bother about those things. We have too much to do to think about ourselves.''
``Then--there is no reason why I should not ask you to be my wife--why I should not hope--and try?''
She looked at him with a peculiar smile. ``Yes, there is a very good reason. I do not love you, and I shall not love you. I shall not have time for that sort of thing.''
``Don't you believe in love?''
``I don't believe in much else,'' said she. ``But--not the kind of love you offer me.''
``How do you know?'' cried he. ``I have not told you yet how I feel toward you. I have not----''
``Oh, yes, you have,'' interrupted she. ``This is the second--no, the third time you have seen me. So, the love you offer me can only be of a kind it is not in the least flattering to a woman to inspire. You needn't apologize,'' she went on, laughingly. ``I've no doubt you mean well. You simply don't understand me--my sort of woman.''
``It's you that don't understand, Selma,'' cried he. ``You don't realize how wonderful you are--how much you reveal of yourself at once. I was all but engaged to another woman when I saw you. I've been fighting against my love for you--fighting against the truth that suddenly came to me that you were the only woman I had ever seen who appealed to and aroused and made strong all that is brave and honest in me. Selma, I need you. I am not infatuated.
I am clearer- headed than I ever was in my life. I need you. You can make a man of me.''
She was regarding