When the rector of Christ Church learned from Ruth Tracy that the Widow Bradley was willing to see him, he found an early opportunity to call on her. She received him courteously, and listened intently to all that he said, but he found her even more reticent than she had been on the occasion of his first visit. She was, however, interested in his crusade for social justice in the Church and asked him many questions concerning it. At the conclusion of his visit she freely offered to him any assistance which she was capable of giving in the carrying on of his fight. The subject of personal religion was barely touched upon. The rector was too wise to force that matter upon her attention prematurely. But, thereafter, the Reverend Mr. Farrar had no more devoted adherent in the entire city than Mary Bradley, unless indeed it might have been Ruth Tracy herself. When Miss Tracy was informed of the widow’s attitude toward the conflict in the parish, she came again to see her and took counsel with her concerning the efforts that might be made among the residents of Factory Hill to awaken and further an interest in Christ Church and in the cause of its rector. Mrs. Bradley again promised her assistance and she gave it. She gave it so freely and so effectively that both Miss Tracy and the rector came soon to look upon her as one of their most valued and faithful advisers and helpers. But members of the socialistic body by which she was employed complained that her office in the Potter Building was becoming a headquarters for religious propaganda. Stephen Lamar suggested to her one day that she was hired to spread the doctrines of socialism and not to fight the battles of unorthodox clergymen. She laughed at that, and told him that when he came to a right understanding of the principles of his creed he would know that it all worked to the same end, and that to sow dissension in the churches was to advance by that much the social millennium. She added, moreover, that whenever the League considered that her services were not worth her salary, she would gladly relinquish her position. He made no further complaint. He did not again chide her, as he had done on several occasions, for her regular attendance on the services at Christ Church. So long as he discovered no particular awakening of religious sensibility on her part he was content thereafter to let her have her own way. As his desire for her increased and grew more and more imperious, his caution was augmented, lest by his own inadvertence he should thwart the happiness to which he confidently looked forward.
But Mary Bradley’s work and influence in behalf of the rector of Christ Church and of his cause were not confined to the proletariat among whom she dwelt. By no means! Her position brought her into contact, not with wealthy people, for these rarely have any leaning toward socialism; but with a number of persons of intellectuality and high standing in the community; and among these she awakened, unobtrusively, subtly perhaps, an interest in if not a sympathy for the fighting rector.
Barry Malleson was one of her converts. He had, all his life, been an attendant at Christ Church, his father was a liberal contributor to all of its financial needs, his mother and sisters, aristocratically pious, were devoted to its interests. But, under the influence and gentle persuasion of Mary Bradley, proletarian, agnostic, revolutionist, Barry Malleson was transformed from an outspoken opponent of the rector’s views to a warm supporter of his cause. Not that all this was accomplished at a single sitting. It required many interviews, interviews which Barry not only freely granted, but, if the truth must be told, interviews which he diligently sought. He was no stranger at socialistic headquarters in the Potter Building. Twice, at least, he had been seen walking on the street with the handsome secretary. He made no concealment of his admiration for her. It was not his nature to conceal anything. But, when his friends rallied him on his apparent conquest, he admitted that as yet the affair was a mere matter of personal friendship, and was largely due to a common interest with Mrs. Bradley in certain social problems. No one attributed to him any improper motive. He had the cleanest of minds. He was the farthest of any man in the city from being a rake. That was why the public regarded the situation so seriously. That was why certain mothers with marriageable daughters, who preferred wealth and social standing to brilliancy of intellect, deprecated, in sorrowful if not severe terms, the young man’s apparent infatuation. As for Miss Chichester, she was inconsolable. She had tried suggestion, persuasion, intimidation, in turn; but all in vain. Barry was good-naturedly obstinate. Even in the face of the most dreadful prognostications as to what might happen if he should continue his relations with the widow, he persistently declined to break them off. Yet, in reality, Barry had not begun to reach that stage in his siege of Mrs. Bradley’s heart which his friends gave him credit for having reached. He had spoken no word of love to her. He realized that her late consort had departed this life so recently as the last September, and that the first snow of winter had but lately fallen. And Barry was a gentleman. Moreover he had not yet been able to overcome a certain diffidence, a slowness of thought, a lack of fluency of speech while in her presence. He felt that this might be a serious drawback when the time should really come for love-making. For it must be admitted that Barry had taken into contemplation more than once a proposal of marriage to the widow, and the difficulties which might beset it. He could not quite understand his own hesitancy. Heretofore he had shown perfect self-composure in his association with women of all social grades. He had asked Ruth Tracy to marry him with as much self-assurance and ease of manner as he would have exhibited in asking for another cup of coffee at breakfast time. If Jane Chichester had appealed to his romantic fancy in the slightest degree, he could have proposed marriage to her without the quickening of a pulse or the moving of an eyelash. But the very thought of approaching the Widow Bradley on the subject of love and matrimony threw him into a fever and flutter of excitement.
The gradual winning over of Barry to the rector’s cause had been attended with some raillery on the part of his friends, and some unhappy comments in his presence on the part of members of his family. But once persuaded he was not easily dissuaded. Not that his adherence to either party in the conflict was a matter of great moment. He was not a vestryman, he was not a communicant, he was without voice, and, broadly speaking, without influence in the counsels of the church, yet his defection was not without its bearing on the case, and he, himself, considered his change of attitude as being most significant and important. The matter of the controversy weighed heavily on his mind. He gave it much time and thought. On more than one occasion he interviewed the rector, the several vestrymen, and some of the leading women of the church, in a fruitless effort to bring about harmony. The questions that had arisen occupied his attention to the exclusion of more important matters. Their consideration seriously interfered with the due performance of the duties that had been assigned to him as vice-president of the Malleson Manufacturing Company, although it must be admitted that his neglect, if it was such, did not appear to hamper the corporation to any appreciable extent in the carrying on of its business. He knew that the resolution for the rector’s dismissal was to come before the vestry for action on that Friday evening. Every one in the city who had any interest at all in the case knew it. But there were few who were as greatly disturbed by the knowledge as was Barry Malleson. He went in the afternoon to see a majority of the vestrymen concerning the matter, but, with the exception of Emberly and Hazzard, they were all either obdurate or reticent. His protests against the proposed action fell generally upon stony ground. The next morning he picked up the morning paper and ran his eyes over the columns until they fell upon the brief but sensational account of the action of the vestry the night before.
“Well,” he said, “I see they’ve done it.”
It was at the breakfast table. The members of the family were gathered for the morning meal.
“Who’s done what?” asked his sister, Miss Veloura.
“Why,” was the reply, “the vestry has resolved to put Farrar out.”
“It’ll be a good riddance,” was the comment of Barry’s mother.
“If they could only do the same thing to Ruth Tracy,” said the elder sister.