“Of course, dear child.” Dr. Franklin patted her hand perfunctorily and arose with ill-concealed relief that the interview was at an end. He could not understand her attitude of the last few moments and it 23 troubled him vaguely. She had received the news of her father’s bankruptcy with a girlish horror and incredulousness––which had been only natural under the circumstances; but when it was borne in upon her, in as delicate a way as he could convey it, that dishonor was involved in the matter, she had, after the first outburst, maintained a stony, ashen self-poise and control that were far from what he had expected. It was the most disagreeable task he had performed in many a day and he was heartily glad that it was over. Only his very great desire to ingratiate himself with these kings of finance, who had commissioned him to do their bidding, as well as the inclination to be of real service to his young and orphaned parishioner, had induced him to undertake the mission.
“You must rest and have an opportunity to adjust yourself to this new, unfortunate state of affairs,” he continued. “I will call again to-morrow. If I can be of the slightest service to you, do not hesitate to let me know. It is a sad trial, but our Heavenly Father has tempered the wind to the shorn lamb; He has provided you with a protector in young Mr. Hamilton, and with kind, true friends who will see that no harm or deprivation comes to you. Try to feel that this added grief and trouble will, in the end, be for the best.”
The alacrity with which he took his departure was painfully obvious, but Anita scarcely noticed it. Her mind was busy with the new, hideous thought, which had assailed her at that first hint of dishonesty on the part of her father––the thought that she was being made the victim of a gigantic conspiracy.
As soon as she found herself alone, she flew to the telephone. “Main, 2785,” she demanded.... “Mr. Hamilton, please.... Is that you, Ramon?... Can 24 you come to me at once? I need your advice and help. Something has happened––something terrible! No, I cannot tell you over the ’phone. You will come at once? Yes, good-by, Ramon dear.”
She hung up the receiver and paced the floor restlessly. Almost inconceivable as it had appeared to her consciousness under the first shock of the announcement, she might in time have come to accept the astounding fact of her father’s insolvency, but that disgrace, dishonor, could have attached itself to his name––that he, the model of uprightness, of integrity could have been guilty of crooked dealing, of something which must for the honor of his memory be kept secret from the ears of his fellow-men, she could never bring herself to believe. Every instinct of her nature revolted, and underlying all her girlish unsophistication, a native shrewdness, inherited perhaps from her father, bade her distrust alike the worldly, self-interested pastor of the Church of St. James and the three so-called friends, who, although her father’s associates, had been his rivals, and who had offered with such astounding magnanimity to stand by her.
Why had they offered to help her? Was it really through tenderness and affection for her father’s daughter, or was it to stay her hand and close her mouth to all queries?
Why did not Ramon come? Surely he should have been there before this. What could be detaining him? She tried to be patient, to calm her seething brain while she waited, but it was no use. Hours passed while she paced the floor, restlessly, and the dusk settled into the darkness of early winter. Wilkes came to turn on the lights, but she refused them––she could think better in the dark. The dinner-hour came and went and twice 25 Ellen knocked anxiously upon the door, but Anita, torn with anxiety, would pay no heed. She had telephoned to Ramon’s office, only to find that he had left there immediately upon receiving her message; to his home––he had not returned.
Nine o’clock sounded in silvery chimes from the clock upon the mantel; then ten and eleven and at length, just when she felt that she could endure no more, the front door-bell rang. A well-known step sounded upon the stairs, and Ramon entered.
With a little gasp of joy and relief she flung herself upon him in the darkness, but at an involuntary groan from him she recoiled.
“What is it, Ramon? What has happened to you?”