The Colonel's Dream

  THE COLONEL'S DREAM

  A Novel

  by

  CHARLES W. CHESNUTT

  Harlem MoonBroadway BooksNew York

  Published in 1905 byDoubleday, New York.

  THE COLONEL'S DREAM

  DEDICATION

  _To the great number of those who are seeking, in whatever manner ordegree, from near at hand or far away, to bring the forces ofenlightenment to bear upon the vexed problems which harass the South,this volume is inscribed, with the hope that it may contribute to thesame good end._

  _If there be nothing new between its covers, neither is love new, norfaith, nor hope, nor disappointment, nor sorrow. Yet life is not theless worth living because of any of these, nor has any man truly liveduntil he has tasted of them all._

  LIST OF CHARACTERS

  _Colonel Henry French_, A RETIRED MERCHANT

  _Mr. Kirby_, }_Mrs. Jerviss_, } HIS FORMER PARTNERS

  _Philip French_, THE COLONEL'S SON

  _Peter French_, HIS OLD SERVANT

  _Mrs. Treadwell_, AN OLD LADY

  _Miss Laura Treadwell_, HER DAUGHTER

  _Graciella Treadwell_, HER GRANDDAUGHTER

  _Malcolm Dudley_, A TREASURE-SEEKER

  _Ben Dudley_, HIS NEPHEW

  _Viney_, HIS HOUSEKEEPER

  _William Fetters_, A CONVICT LABOUR CONTRACTOR

  _Barclay Fetters_, HIS SON

  _Bud Johnson_, A CONVICT LABOURER

  _Caroline_, HIS WIFE

  _Henry Taylor_, A NEGRO SCHOOLMASTER

  _William Nichols_, A MULATTO BARBER

  _Haynes_, A CONSTABLE

  One

  Two gentlemen were seated, one March morning in 189--, in the privateoffice of French and Company, Limited, on lower Broadway. Mr. Kirby,the junior partner--a man of thirty-five, with brown hair andmustache, clean-cut, handsome features, and an alert manner, wassmoking cigarettes almost as fast as he could roll them, and at thesame time watching the electric clock upon the wall and getting up nowand then to stride restlessly back and forth across the room.

  Mr. French, the senior partner, who sat opposite Kirby, was an olderman--a safe guess would have placed him somewhere in the debatableground between forty and fifty; of a good height, as could be seeneven from the seated figure, the upper part of which was held erectwith the unconscious ease which one associates with military training.His closely cropped brown hair had the slightest touch of gray. Thespacious forehead, deep-set gray eyes, and firm chin, scarcelyconcealed by a light beard, marked the thoughtful man of affairs. Hisface indeed might have seemed austere, but for a sensitive mouth,which suggested a reserve of humour and a capacity for deep feeling. Aman of well-balanced character, one would have said, not apt toundertake anything lightly, but sure to go far in whatever he took inhand; quickly responsive to a generous impulse, and capable of arighteous indignation; a good friend, a dangerous enemy; more likelyto be misled by the heart than by the head; of the salt of the earth,which gives it savour.

  Mr. French sat on one side, Mr. Kirby on the other, of a handsome,broad-topped mahogany desk, equipped with telephones and push buttons,and piled with papers, account books and letter files in orderlyarray. In marked contrast to his partner's nervousness, Mr. Frenchscarcely moved a muscle, except now and then to take the cigar fromhis lips and knock the ashes from the end.

  "Nine fifty!" ejaculated Mr. Kirby, comparing the clock with hiswatch. "Only ten minutes more."

  Mr. French nodded mechanically. Outside, in the main office, the sameair of tense expectancy prevailed. For two weeks the office force hadbeen busily at work, preparing inventories and balance sheets. Thefirm of French and Company, Limited, manufacturers of crashes andburlaps and kindred stuffs, with extensive mills in Connecticut, andcentral offices in New York, having for a long time resisted the sirenvoice of the promoter, had finally faced the alternative of sellingout, at a sacrifice, to the recently organised bagging trust, or ofmeeting a disastrous competition. Expecting to yield in the end, theyhad fought for position--with brilliant results. Negotiations for asale, upon terms highly favourable to the firm, had been in progressfor several weeks; and the two partners were awaiting, in theirprivate office, the final word. Should the sale be completed, theywere richer men than they could have hoped to be after ten years moreof business stress and struggle; should it fail, they were heavylosers, for their fight had been expensive. They were in much the sameposition as the player who had staked the bulk of his fortune on thecast of a die. Not meaning to risk so much, they had been drawn intoit; but the game was worth the candle.

  "Nine fifty-five," said Kirby. "Five minutes more!"

  He strode over to the window and looked out. It was snowing, and theMarch wind, blowing straight up Broadway from the bay, swept the whiteflakes northward in long, feathery swirls. Mr. French preserved hisrigid attitude, though a close observer might have wondered whether itwas quite natural, or merely the result of a supreme effort of will.

  Work had been practically suspended in the outer office. The clerkswere also watching the clock. Every one of them knew that the board ofdirectors of the bagging trust was in session, and that at ten o'clockit was to report the result of its action on the proposition of Frenchand Company, Limited. The clerks were not especially cheerful; theimpending change meant for them, at best, a change of masters, and formany of them, the loss of employment. The firm, for relinquishing itsbusiness and good will, would receive liberal compensation; theclerks, for their skill, experience, and prospects of advancement,would receive their discharge. What else could be expected? Theprincipal reason for the trust's existence was economy ofadministration; this was stated, most convincingly, in the prospectus.There was no suggestion, in that model document, that competitionwould be crushed, or that, monopoly once established, labour mustsweat and the public groan in order that a few captains, orchevaliers, of industry, might double their dividends. Mr. French mayhave known it, or guessed it, but he was between the devil and thedeep sea--a victim rather than an accessory--he must take what hecould get, or lose what he had.

  "Nine fifty-nine!"

  Kirby, as he breathed rather than spoke the words, threw away hisscarcely lighted cigarette, and gripped the arms of his chairspasmodically. His partner's attitude had not varied by a hair'sbreadth; except for the scarcely perceptible rise and fall of hischest he might have been a wax figure. The pallor of his countenancewould have strengthened the illusion.

  Kirby pushed his chair back and sprung to his feet. The clock markedthe hour, but nothing happened. Kirby was wont to say, thereafter,that the ten minutes that followed were the longest day of his life.But everything must have an end, and their suspense was terminated bya telephone call. Mr. French took down the receiver and placed it tohis ear.

  "It's all right," he announced, looking toward his partner. "Ourfigures accepted--resolution adopted--settlement to-morrow. Weare----"

  The receiver fell upon the table with a crash. Mr. French toppledover, and before Kirby had scarcely realised that something was thematter, had sunk unconscious to the floor, which, fortunately, wasthickly carpeted.

  It was but the work of a moment for Kirby to loosen his partner'scollar, reach into the recesses of a certain drawer in the big desk,draw out a flask of brandy, and pour a small quantity of the burningliquid down the unconscious man's throat. A push on one of theelectric buttons summoned a clerk, with whose aid Mr. French waslifted to a leather-covered couch that stood against the wall. Almostat once the effect of the stimulant was apparent, and he opened hiseyes.

  "I suspect," he said, with a feeble attempt at a smile, "that I musthave fainted--like a woman--perfectly ridiculous."

  "Perfectly natural," replied his partner. "You have scarcely slept fortwo weeks--between
the business and Phil--and you've reached the endof your string. But it's all over now, except the shouting, and youcan sleep a week if you like. You'd better go right up home. I'll sendfor a cab, and call Dr. Moffatt, and ask him to be at the hotel by thetime you reach it. I'll take care of things here to-day, and after agood sleep you'll find yourself all right again."

  "Very well, Kirby," replied Mr. French, "I feel as weak as water, butI'm all here. It might have been much worse. You'll call up Mrs.Jerviss, of course, and let her know about the sale?"

  When Mr. French, escorted to the cab by his partner, and accompaniedby a clerk, had left for home, Kirby rang up the doctor, and requestedhim to look after Mr. French immediately. He then called for anothernumber, and after the usual delay, first because the exchange girl wasbusy, and then because the line was busy, found himself incommunication with the lady for whom he had asked.

  "It's all right, Mrs. Jerviss," he announced without preliminaries."Our terms accepted, and payment to be made, in cash and bonds, assoon as the papers are executed, when you will be twice as rich as youare to-day."

  "Thank you, Mr. Kirby! And I suppose I shall never have another happymoment until I know what to do with it. Money is a great trial. Ioften envy the poor."

  Kirby smiled grimly. She little knew how near she had been to ruin.The active partners had mercifully shielded her, as far as possible,from the knowledge of their common danger. If the worst happened, shemust know, of course; if not, then, being a woman whom they bothliked--she would be spared needless anxiety. How closely they hadskirted the edge of disaster she did not learn until afterward;indeed, Kirby himself had scarcely appreciated the true situation, andeven the senior partner, since he had not been present at the meetingof the trust managers, could not know what had been in their minds.

  But Kirby's voice gave no hint of these reflections. He laughed acheerful laugh. "If the world only knew," he rejoined, "it wouldcease to worry about the pains of poverty, and weep for the woes ofwealth."

  "Indeed it would!" she replied, with a seriousness which seemed almostsincere. "Is Mr. French there? I wish to thank him, too."

  "No, he has just gone home."

  "At this hour?" she exclaimed, "and at such a time? What can be thematter? Is Phil worse?"

  "No, I think not. Mr. French himself had a bad turn, for a fewminutes, after we learned the news."

  Faces are not yet visible over the telephone, and Kirby could not seethat for a moment the lady's grew white. But when she spoke again thenote of concern in her voice was very evident.

  "It was nothing--serious?"

  "Oh, no, not at all, merely overwork, and lack of sleep, and thesuspense--and the reaction. He recovered almost immediately, and oneof the clerks went home with him."

  "Has Dr. Moffatt been notified?" she asked.

  "Yes, I called him up at once; he'll be at the Mercedes by the timethe patient arrives."

  There was a little further conversation on matters of business, andKirby would willingly have prolonged it, but his news about Mr. Frenchhad plainly disturbed the lady's equanimity, and Kirby rang off, afterarranging to call to see her in person after business hours.

  Mr. Kirby hung up the receiver with something of a sigh.

  "A fine woman," he murmured, "I could envy French his chances, thoughhe doesn't seem to see them--that is, if I were capable of envy towardso fine a fellow and so good a friend. It's curious how clearsighted aman can be in some directions, and how blind in others."

  Mr. French lived at the Mercedes, an uptown apartment hoteloverlooking Central Park. He had scarcely reached his apartment, whenthe doctor arrived--a tall, fair, fat practitioner, and one of thebest in New York; a gentleman as well, and a friend, of Mr. French.

  "My dear fellow," he said, after a brief examination, "you've beenburning the candle at both ends, which, at your age won't do at all.No, indeed! No, indeed! You've always worked too hard, and you've beenworrying too much about the boy, who'll do very well now, with care.You've got to take a rest--it's all you need. You confess to no badhabits, and show the signs of none; and you have a fine constitution.I'm going to order you and Phil away for three months, to some mildclimate, where you'll be free from business cares and where the boycan grow strong without having to fight a raw Eastern spring. Youmight try the Riviera, but I'm afraid the sea would be too much forPhil just yet; or southern California--but the trip is tiresome. TheSouth is nearer at hand. There's Palm Beach, or Jekyll Island, orThomasville, Asheville, or Aiken--somewhere down in the pine country.It will be just the thing for the boy's lungs, and just the place foryou to rest. Start within a week, if you can get away. In fact, you've_got_ to get away."

  Mr. French was too weak to resist--both body and mind seemed strangelyrelaxed--and there was really no reason why he should not go. His workwas done. Kirby could attend to the formal transfer of the business.He would take a long journey to some pleasant, quiet spot, where heand Phil could sleep, and dream and ride and drive and grow strong,and enjoy themselves. For the moment he felt as though he would nevercare to do any more work, nor would he need to, for he was richenough. He would live for the boy. Phil's education, his health, hishappiness, his establishment in life--these would furnish occupationenough for his well-earned retirement.

  It was a golden moment. He had won a notable victory against greed andcraft and highly trained intelligence. And yet, a year later, he wasto recall this recent past with envy and regret; for in the meantimehe was to fight another battle against the same forces, and othersquite as deeply rooted in human nature. But he was to fight upon a newfield, and with different weapons, and with results which could not beforeseen.

  But no premonition of impending struggle disturbed Mr. French'spleasant reverie; it was broken in a much more agreeable manner by thearrival of a visitor, who was admitted by Judson, Mr. French's man.The visitor was a handsome, clear-eyed, fair-haired woman, of thirtyor thereabouts, accompanied by another and a plainer woman, evidentlya maid or companion. The lady was dressed with the most expensivesimplicity, and her graceful movements were attended by the rustle ofunseen silks. In passing her upon the street, any man under ninetywould have looked at her three times, the first glance instinctivelyrecognising an attractive woman, the second ranking her as a lady;while the third, had there been time and opportunity, would have beenthe long, lingering look of respectful or regretful admiration.

  "How is Mr. French, Judson?" she inquired, without dissembling heranxiety.

  "He's much better, Mrs. Jerviss, thank you, ma'am."

  "I'm very glad to hear it; and how is Phil?"

  "Quite bright, ma'am, you'd hardly know that he'd been sick. He'sgaining strength rapidly; he sleeps a great deal; he's asleep now,ma'am. But, won't you step into the library? There's a fire in thegrate, and I'll let Mr. French know you are here."

  But Mr. French, who had overheard part of the colloquy, came forwardfrom an adjoining room, in smoking jacket and slippers.

  "How do you do?" he asked, extending his hand. "It was mighty good ofyou to come to see me."

  "And I'm awfully glad to find you better," she returned, giving himher slender, gloved hand with impulsive warmth. "I might havetelephoned, but I wanted to see for myself. I felt a part of the blameto be mine, for it is partly for me, you know, that you have beenoverworking."

  "It was all in the game," he said, "and we have won. But sit down andstay awhile. I know you'll pardon my smoking jacket. We are partners,you know, and I claim an invalid's privilege as well."

  The lady's fine eyes beamed, and her fair cheek flushed with pleasure.Had he only realised it, he might have claimed of her any privilege awoman can properly allow, even that of conducting her to the altar.But to him she was only, thus far, as she had been for a long time, avery good friend of his own and of Phil's; a former partner's widow,who had retained her husband's interest in the business; a wholesome,handsome woman, who was always excellent company and at whose table hehad often eaten, both before and since her husband's de
ath. Nor,despite Kirby's notions, was he entirely ignorant of the lady'spartiality for himself.

  "Doctor Moffatt has ordered Phil and me away, for three months," hesaid, after Mrs. Jerviss had inquired particularly concerning hishealth and Phil's.

  "Three months!" she exclaimed with an accent of dismay. "But you'll beback," she added, recovering herself quickly, "before the vacationseason opens?"

  "Oh, certainly; we shall not leave the country."

  "Where are you going?"

  "The doctor has prescribed the pine woods. I shall visit my old home,where I was born. We shall leave in a day or two."

  "You must dine with me to-morrow," she said warmly, "and tell me aboutyour old home. I haven't had an opportunity to thank you for making merich, and I want your advice about what to do with the money; and I'mtiring you now when you ought to be resting."

  "Do not hurry," he said. "It is almost a pleasure to be weak andhelpless, since it gives me the privilege of a visit from you."

  She lingered a few moments and then went. She was the embodiment ofgood taste and knew when to come and when to go.

  Mr. French was conscious that her visit, instead of tiring him, hadhad an opposite effect; she had come and gone like a pleasant breeze,bearing sweet odours and the echo of distant music. Her shapely hand,when it had touched his own, had been soft but firm; and he had almostwished, as he held it for a moment, that he might feel it resting onhis still somewhat fevered brow. When he came back from the South, hewould see a good deal of her, either at the seaside, or wherever shemight spend the summer.

  When Mr. French and Phil were ready, a day or two later, to start upontheir journey, Kirby was at the Mercedes to see them off.

  "You're taking Judson with you to look after the boy?" he asked.

  "No," replied Mr. French, "Judson is in love, and does not wish toleave New York. He will take a vacation until we return. Phil and Ican get along very well alone."

  Kirby went with them across the ferry to the Jersey side, and throughthe station gates to the waiting train. There was a flurry of snow inthe air, and overcoats were comfortable. When Mr. French had turnedover his hand luggage to the porter of the Pullman, they walked up anddown the station platform.

  "I'm looking for something to interest us," said Kirby, rolling acigarette. "There's a mining proposition in Utah, and a trolleyrailroad in Oklahoma. When things are settled up here, I'll take a runout, and look the ground over, and write to you."

  "My dear fellow," said his friend, "don't hurry. Why should I make anymore money? I have all I shall ever need, and as much as will be goodfor Phil. If you find a good thing, I can help you finance it; andMrs. Jerviss will welcome a good investment. But I shall take a longrest, and then travel for a year or two, and after that settle downand take life comfortably."

  "That's the way you feel now," replied Kirby, lighting anothercigarette, "but wait until you are rested, and you'll yearn for thefray; the first million only whets the appetite for more."

  "All aboard!"

  The word was passed along the line of cars. Kirby took leave of Phil,into whose hand he had thrust a five-dollar bill, "To buy popcorn onthe train," he said, kissed the boy, and wrung his ex-partner's handwarmly.

  "Good-bye," he said, "and good luck. You'll hear from me soon. We'repartners still, you and I and Mrs. Jerviss."

  And though Mr. French smiled acquiescence, and returned Kirby's handclasp with equal vigour and sincerity, he felt, as the train rolledaway, as one might feel who, after a long sojourn in an alien land, atlast takes ship for home. The mere act of leaving New York, after theseverance of all compelling ties, seemed to set in motion old currentsof feeling, which, moving slowly at the start, gathered momentum asthe miles rolled by, until his heart leaped forward to the oldSouthern town which was his destination, and he soon felt himselfchafing impatiently at any delay that threatened to throw the trainbehind schedule time.

  "He'll be back in six weeks," declared Kirby, when Mrs. Jerviss and henext met. "I know him well; he can't live without his club and hiscounting room. It is hard to teach an old dog new tricks."

  "And I'm sure he'll not stay away longer than three months," said thelady confidently, "for I have invited him to my house party."

  "A privilege," said Kirby gallantly, "for which many a man would comefrom the other end of the world."

  But they were both mistaken. For even as they spoke, he whose futureeach was planning, was entering upon a new life of his own, from whichhe was to look back upon his business career as a mere period ofpreparation for the real end and purpose of his earthly existence.