"You see we are to go abroad,—the usual thing! That's the Senator's crafty hand. He wants everything decently smooth."
But the public no longer cared. The coal cases had gone up to a higher court on appeal, and when the final decision was handed down, the "street" would be interested not in the question of John Lane's guilt or innocence, but in the more important question of whether the Supreme Court "would back up the President's campaign against capital."
Meanwhile, there was none of the social stigma attached to the verdict against her husband that Isabelle had resolutely expected. As soon as it was known that the Lanes were established in the city for the spring, their friends sought them out and they were invited to dine more than Isabelle cared for. In their class, as she quickly perceived from jesting references to the trial, such legal difficulties as John's were regarded as merely the disagreeable incidents of doing business in a socialistic age. Lane, far from being "down and out," was considered in the industrial and railroad world a strong man rather badly treated by a weak-kneed board of directors, who had sought to save themselves from trouble by sacrificing an able servant to the public storm. No sooner was his resignation published than he received an offer of the presidency of a large transit company in the middle West. While he was considering this offer, he was approached by representatives of another great railroad, which, though largely owned by the same "interests" that controlled the Atlantic and Pacific, was generally supposed to be a rival. Lane was too valuable a man to be lost to the railroad army. The "interests" recognized in him a powerful instrument, trained from boyhood for their purposes,—one "who knew how to get business." The offer flattered Lane, and soothed that sore spot in his inner consciousness. He saw himself reinstated in his old world, with a prospect of crossing swords with his old superiors in a more than secondary position.
Isabelle knew all about this offer. She and her husband talked together more freely than they had ever done before. The experiences of the past weeks,—Steve's death, the planning for Alice's future, as well as the emotional result of the trial—had brought them nearer an understanding. Lane had begun to realize a latent aptitude in his wife for grasping the essential matters of business,—investments, risks, corporation management. She understood far more than the distinction between stock and bond, which is supposedly the limit of woman's business intelligence. As the warm May days came on they took long rides into the fresh country, talking over the endless detail of affairs,—her money, her mother's money, the Colonel's trust funds, the Johnstons' future, the railroad situation,—all that John Lane had hitherto carried tightly shut in his own mind.
And thus Isabelle began to comprehend the close relation between what is called "business" and the human matters of daily life for every individual in this complex world. There was not simply a broad mark between right and wrong,—dramatic trials; but the very souls of men and women were involved in the vast machine of labor and profit.
She was astonished to discover the extent of her husband's interests, his personal fortune, which had grown amazingly during these last ten fat years of the country's prosperity.
"Why, you don't have to take any position!"
"Yes, we could afford to make that European trip the Board so kindly indicated."
"We might go abroad," she said thoughtfully.
A few years before she would have grasped the chance to live in Europe indefinitely. Now she found no inclination in her spirit for this solution.