Hope Mills by Amanda Minnie Douglas (digital ebook reader .txt) 📖

journey was performed in an easy carriage. A paralysis of the lower limbs had supervened; but otherwise she had rallied a little, and her mind was clear and cheerful. There was only to be a peaceful waiting for the end, no feverish fluctuations of hope and fear. It was curious how they settled themselves to the fact. A nurse was installed for night watching and the more onerous part; and the invalid's room took on a pleasant aspect,--Christiana waiting on this side of the river.


CHAPTER XXIV.

FOR the first time in his life, and for some unfathomable cause, Jack Darcy found business cares irksome. Balance-time was at hand. He was a little tired of the dreary round. The men's disaffection re-acted upon him. With his keen and intelligent faculty of making the best of every thing, he was disappointed because he had failed to inspire others with it.

"It's not so bad, after all. We have nothing that can be passed to capital, but we have held our own. Only, there is no dividend for the men."

"I'll explain that to them," exclaimed Winston with a confident nod.

He did, and he had a rather stormy venture. All the old arguments and agreements had to be gone over. Men unaccustomed to business are quick in prosperity and stupid in adversity. They only had three-quarter wages: why should they be called upon to lose beside? It was little enough, and waiting five years,--and no one knew,--the whole thing might go to smash another year! A few wished, with an oath, that they were well out of it. They would never be bamboozled into any co-operative scheme again.

The grumbling, grew louder and louder. It was discussed at Keppler's over beer and bad whiskey, and quite inflammatory speeches were made. Then Winston called the mill-hands together.

"My men," said he, "you know we opened the mills in starvation-times. Every man who could raise fifty dollars was entitled to a half-share of the capital, and he who could not was to have a little capital made off of the savings of his labor. Last year you were all pleased and merry and satisfied, because we made something: this year it has been the reverse, though I declare to you, I, for one, have worked twice as hard. Now, we shall never do any thing if we are all going to row different ways. It must be the long pull, the strong pull, and the pull all together. You know that if any operative became dissatisfied, and left, his share was forfeited to the fund for the sick and disabled. Many of you _are_ dissatisfied; but maybe you won't leave, thinking of last year's money. Now, I want to say, every such man who would like to _sell_ his share, may do so. I have had some applications from new men, that I have been very sorry to refuse. I shall open a book, and any man who wants to go out may put down his name there, and, just as fast as the shares are resold, he can go; _but he never comes back into Hope Mills again_! Just think it over, and decide in the course of a few days."

"O Winston!" cried Jack, "I am afraid there will be a stampede!"

"You're nervous and blue, Darcy. Now, you see if this isn't the very best move. There were two men here the other day from Little Falls. They had been taking out half their wages in store-pay, and the concern burst up, owing them the other half. They knew of a dozen men, not beggarly poor either, who would be glad to come. I'll bet my old hat there don't six men go out. Come, now!"

"You can't tempt me with your old hat," returned Jack laughingly. "Make it a treat at Kit Connelly's."

"Agreed. We'll take in the household."

A dozen names were put down on the first day, two on the second, then there was a lull. Afterward four were erased; and, when it came to the actual pinch, five men went out, two of them very reluctantly.

"I felt so sorry for Davy," said Jack when they had made the transfers. "He didn't want to go, and I do not believe he would if it had not been for his brother-in-law."

"A good lesson for all parties. There will not be any grumbling for some time to come, I'll warrant. It is rather irregular business; but sometimes you can't wait for a regular surgeon, or the patient would be past help."

Events pointed the lesson pretty forcibly. By the middle of October there was a sudden rush of orders. Prices rallied a little. There were some tremendous bankruptcies, but it seemed more in speculation than legitimate industry. The new men brought a fresh infusion of spirit and energy. One of them, a small, middle-aged man, Gilman by name, who had once been manager and had a share in a mill that came to grief through a defaulting cashier who had successfully forged the name of the firm, was especially enthusiastic about the system. Jack admitted that the culmination of the discontent was the very best thing that had happened for the mill.

Davy went almost wild over his mistake, cursed his brother-in-law roundly, and forbade his wife to visit her brother's household. Nothing to do, not even three-quarter wages to live upon, with cheap coal and cheap flour. He even waylaid Darcy, and begged to be taken back without any share.

"I'm sorry, Davy, but it cannot be done. We resolved, whatever happened, we would not go back on our word. You had time enough to think it over."

"Just you wait," said Price, when he heard this. "They've three years more to wade through, and they'll never hold together all that time. It has a very queer look, too, that, just as soon as they shoved us out, they began to make money again. Bob Winston's the sort of fellow to look out for himself, and he had this thing all cut and dried."

"Look here," remarked a listener, "you signed your own selves out. Nobody made you. I haven't any faith in the scheme, but I like truth for all that."

The men worked with a will. The monthly club meetings took on a new interest; and they decided, if the prosperity continued, to open a co-operative store another year. They were growing more thoughtful and intelligent, and Gilman's influence upon them was excellent, while his experiences widened their views. A little fresh blood certainly worked no harm.

Jack was very cheery again. It seemed to him they had pulled through the worst. The larger outlook was better: goods were going abroad, and money or bonds were coming back. Here and there some new enterprise started, but still there were hundreds of men out of employment. Yerbury showed various signs of a new thriftiness. The farms about were better managed. Some idle men had ventured to hire a little ground the past summer, and raise sufficient to have something over for their trouble. The Webbers succeeded beautifully. Of course there were slurs about a Dutchman living on a cabbage a week, but every one knew the Webbers were not that kind. What Germans were able to do nicely and wisely, Americans might copy to their profit. When some of the natives were out of work, they patched up their fences, painted a bit, laid a bad place in the sidewalk, instead of hanging round a saloon.

As for those who were living through the sad sweet lesson of loving and losing, time went on with them also. If they could have stayed his hand! Sylvie recovered from the first shock: she could never suffer quite so intensely again, for there was one to share her least thought, her most trivial to her greatest pain. The explanation had come about very gently, making only a small ripple. Mrs. Lawrence was delighted: she always had liked Sylvie, and she was certain that Fred was a better match than Jack Darcy, though she admitted he was remarkable for a young man with no better opportunities.

Miss Barry was truly satisfied. She would cling to her little dream of "orders" and "kinds" to the last, but she always did it in an unobtrusive way. She had felt all her life long, rather all _their_ lives, that they were made for one another. Less practically clear-eyed than her young niece,--brought up in the active reasoning and doing of to-day, rather than the doctrine of passive suffering that had been in the old creed for women,--she would have assented when Sylvie refused. To be sure, if Jack Darcy had won her he would have had a delicate and sincere welcome; but I think her eye would never have lighted with the true mother-love at his coming, as it did at Fred's. The worth of his years of refinement and polish came out now. He never seemed at loss or awkward in the sickroom. If he was reading, he warily noted the first droop of the eyes; he could tell by the lines in her face when talking wearied her, or when she preferred being alone. Every thing between them was harmonious.

She amazed even Dr. Maverick by her improvement, though she held her life even yet on the same frail tenure. She really hoped to live until spring, when she should plan for Sylvie's marriage. Fred had made a very profitable engagement with the widow he had spoken of, and was to furnish designs for the interior of her house and furniture. There was to be one purely Grecian room, one on the old Roman model, a sunset room where every thing was to be in accord, and a "sea" room fit for Naiads or Undines. Sylvie was intensely interested. This Mrs. Spottiswoode was young and handsome, the widow of a man nearly three times her age, and childless.

Fred Lawrence was proud to have something of his very own to offer Sylvie, and she took it as the highest of all compliments. She did like the profession, if that it could be called; for it brought them nearer together, it was something they could both share. She copied designs and art essays, she drew patterns, she painted now and then, days when Miss Barry was at her best. She would make of herself something that should enhance Fred's pride in her,--as if he was not proud enough already!

The one least contented with all this was Philip Maverick.

"I never was so thunderstruck in all my life! That's just the word to express it, for it left me dazed as the blackness does after the lightning. I would have sworn, Jack, that she loved you, and you loved her. Good heavens! if I had not believed that, if I had not been too honorable to seek to play a friend a scurvy trick, it would have gone hard with me if I had not won her for myself."

"Honestly, you would not have succeeded, Maverick. Neither would she have married me. I think she belonged to Fred from the beginning. He used to hate girls, judging from his sisters, no doubt, but he always liked Sylvie. I was afraid of girls,--their sharp eyes and sharper tongues,--but I liked her too; yet in my own mind he always had the first claim. And they will be suited in the farthest fibre of each soul."

"He is not half worthy of her!" growled Maverick.

"Who is?" There was a peculiar tender intonation in the voice. "Sylvie Barry's womanhood is unique, like some rare gem. She has the sparkle but not the hardness of a diamond; the warmth and vividness of the