Understanding Operating Systems 7th Edition

McHoes Solutions Manual pdf download

https://testbankfan.com/product/understanding-operating-
systems-7th-edition-mchoes-solutions-manual/
We believe these products will be a great fit for you. Click
the link to download now, or visit testbankfan.com
to discover even more!

Understanding Operating Systems 7th Edition McHoes Test

Bank

https://testbankfan.com/product/understanding-operating-
systems-7th-edition-mchoes-test-bank/

Understanding Operating Systems 8th Edition McHoes

Solutions Manual

https://testbankfan.com/product/understanding-operating-
systems-8th-edition-mchoes-solutions-manual/

Understanding Operating Systems 5th Edition McHoes

Solutions Manual

https://testbankfan.com/product/understanding-operating-
systems-5th-edition-mchoes-solutions-manual/

Management Accounting Australian 3rd Edition Eldenburg

Test Bank

https://testbankfan.com/product/management-accounting-
australian-3rd-edition-eldenburg-test-bank/
Practical Management Science 5th Edition Winston Test
Bank

https://testbankfan.com/product/practical-management-science-5th-
edition-winston-test-bank/

Seeing Through Statistics 4th Edition Utts Solutions

Manual

https://testbankfan.com/product/seeing-through-statistics-4th-
edition-utts-solutions-manual/

Deviance and Social Control A Sociological Perspective

2nd Edition Inderbitzin Test Bank

https://testbankfan.com/product/deviance-and-social-control-a-
sociological-perspective-2nd-edition-inderbitzin-test-bank/

Legal Environment of Business 13th Edition Meiners

Solutions Manual

https://testbankfan.com/product/legal-environment-of-
business-13th-edition-meiners-solutions-manual/

Illustrated Microsoft Office 365 and Access 2016

Intermediate 1st Edition Friedrichsen Test Bank

https://testbankfan.com/product/illustrated-microsoft-
office-365-and-access-2016-intermediate-1st-edition-friedrichsen-
test-bank/
General Chemistry Principles and Modern Applications
10th Edition Petrucci Solutions Manual

https://testbankfan.com/product/general-chemistry-principles-and-
modern-applications-10th-edition-petrucci-solutions-manual/
 Understanding Operating Systems, 7th edition

Chapter 7 Exercises

1. Briefly explain the differences between seek time and search time. In your opinion,
why do some people confuse the two? ANS: Seek time is the time required to position
the read/write head on the proper track (from the time the I/O request is received).
Search time is the time to rotate the disk from its current sector or location to the
desired sector or location. There are many reasons for people to confuse the two.
Well-reasoned suggestions are acceptable.
2. Given the following characteristics for a magnetic tape using linear recording as
described in this chapter:
Density = 1600 bpi
Speed = 1500 inches/second
Size = 2400 feet
Start/stop time = 4 ms
Number of records to be stored = 200,000 records
Size of each record = 160 bytes
Block size = 10 logical records
IBG = 0.5 inch
Find the following:
a. Number of blocks needed
ANS: 20,000 blocks (200,000 records / 10 records per block)
b. Size of the block in bytes
ANS: 1,600 bytes per block (10 records per block * 160 bytes per record)
c. Time required to read one block
ANS: 0.00066 sec = 0.66ms
(density = 1600 bpi, 1 block = 1600 bytes, therefore 1 block = 1 inch
Time = 1 inch / 1500 inches per second = .00066 sec = 0.66ms)
d. Time required to write all of the blocks.
ANS: 93,200ms or 93.2 sec to write all blocks
(0.66ms to write one block + 4ms to start/stop
= 4.66ms as the total time to write one block.

UOS, 7e Ann McIver McHoes Chapter Seven, Page 1

 Understanding Operating Systems, 7th edition

20,000 blocks * 4.66ms per block

= 93,200ms or 93.2 sec to write all blocks)
e. Amount of tape used for data only, in inches
ANS: 20,000 inches
(density = 1600 bpi, 1 block = 1600 bytes, therefore 1 block fits in 1 inch)
f. Total amount of tape used (data + IBGs), in inches
ANS: 30,000 inches
(number of IBGs = 20,000. 1 IBG = .5 inch, therefore
total inches for all IBGs = 10,000 inches.
Total amount of tape used = 20,000 + 10,000 inches).
3. Given the following characteristics for a magnetic disk pack with 10 platters yielding
18 recordable surfaces (not using the top and bottom surfaces):
Rotational speed = 13 ms
Transfer rate = 0.15 ms/track
Density per track = 19,000 bytes
Number of records to be stored = 200,000 records
Size of each record = 160 bytes
Block size = 10 logical records
Number of tracks per surface = 500
Find the following:
a. Number of blocks per track
ANS: 11 blocks
(1 track = 19,000 bytes,
1 block = 1600 bytes,
number of blocks per track = 19,000/1,600) = 11 blocks
b. Waste per track
ANS: 1,400 bytes
1 track minus (number of blocks * size of each record)
190,00 - (11*160)
=1,400 bytes of waste per track

UOS, 7e Ann McIver McHoes Chapter Seven, Page 2

 Understanding Operating Systems, 7th edition

c. Number of tracks required to store the entire file

ANS: 1,818 tracks
number of blocks to be stored = 20,000, at 11 blocks per track,
number of tracks needed = 20,000/11
=1,818 tracks required to store the entire file
d. Total waste to store the entire file
ANS:
2,561,000 total wasted bytes
(1400 * 1818 = 2,545,200 wasted bytes. The last track has more waste because
only 2 blocks are stored there. Waste for the last track = 15,800 bytes.
Total waste = 2,545,200 + 15,800 = 2,561,000 total wasted bytes
e. Time to write all of the blocks (Use rotational speed; ignore the time it takes to
move to the next track.)
ANS: 260 seconds,whick is 260,000ms
(using rotational speed of 13ms: 20,000 blocks * 13ms = 260,000ms to write all
blocks)
f. Time to write all of the records if they’re not blocked. (Use rotational speed;
ignore the time it takes to move to the next track.)
ANS: 2,600 seconds
(using rotational speed of 13ms: 200,000 records * 13ms = 2,600,000ms to write
all records)
g. Optimal blocking factor to minimize wasted space
ANS: 118 records per block
(19,000 bytes per track / 160 bytes per record
= 118 records per track, yielding 120 bytes of waste per track)
h. What would be the answer to (e) if the time it takes to move to the next track were
5 ms?
ANS: 269.07 sec, which is 269,077 ms
(per track it takes 11 * 13 + 5 = 148 ms, this writes 11 blocks. 148 * 1818 tracks =
269,064 ms, plus 13ms for the last track yielding 269,077 ms total time)

UOS, 7e Ann McIver McHoes Chapter Seven, Page 3

 Understanding Operating Systems, 7th edition

i. What would be the answer to (f) if the time it takes to move to the next track were
5 ms?
ANS: 2,607.73 sec which is 2,607,730 ms total time
(per track it takes 118 * 13 + 5 = 1539ms, this writes 118 records. 1539ms * 1694
tracks = 2,607,066 ms. Plus 702 (54 * 13ms) for the last track yielding 2,607,730
ms total time)
4. Given that it takes 1.75 ms to travel from one track to the next of a hard drive; that the
arm is originally positioned at Track 15 moving toward the low-numbered tracks; and
that you are using the LOOK scheduling policy: Compute the total seek time to satisfy
the following requests—4, 40, 35, 11, 14, and 7. Assume all requests are initially
present in the wait queue. (Ignore rotational time and transfer time; just consider seek
time.) ANS: Students should explain their reasoning here. As shown in the illustration
of the tracks traveled below, the time required for each request is a multiple of the
difference between the two tracks. Therefore for the first request, it moves 11 tracks
(15-4), which takes 19.25 ms. The total for all movement is 140 ms.

5. Describe how secondary storage differs from primary storage and give an example of
each. ANS: Primary storage is temporary in nature because data there is lost when
power is turned off. For example, it is also called “main memory” and is used by the
CPU to process jobs. Secondary storage is more permanent in nature (data there
remains even when power is turned off) and is used by the operating system to keep
data and applications over time. Two examples of secondary storage are hard disk
drives and solid state drives. This group also includes flash drives (because they are
more permanent storage) even though flash drives can be used as temporary memory
by some operating systems.

UOS, 7e Ann McIver McHoes Chapter Seven, Page 4

 Understanding Operating Systems, 7th edition

6. [Eratta: On page 225, Figure 7.12 is described as a system with a search time (time
to rotate the cylinder) of 5 seconds. It should read 1 ms. Table 7.5, on the next page,
shows the correct calculations if the search time is 1 ms. The error will be corrected
in the next printing. AMM]
Consider a virtual cylinder identical to the one shown in Figure 7.12 with the
following characteristics: seek time is 4 ms/track, search time is 1.7 ms/sector, and
data transfer time is 0.9 ms. Calculate the resulting seek time, search time, data
transfer time, and total time for the following Request List, assuming that the
read/write head begins at Track 0, Sector 0. Finally, calculate the total time required
to meet all of these requests.

Track Sector Seek Search Time Data Total

Time Transfer Time
Time

0 0 (Starting Place)

1 0 4 ms 0 ms 0.9 ms 4.9 ms

1 4 0 ms 3 * 1.7 ms 0.9 ms 6 ms

1 0 0 ms 1.7 ms 0.9 ms 2.6 ms

3 1 8 ms 0 ms (because the head is already 0.9 ms 8.9 ms

at the end of sector 0 & beginning
of sector 1)

2 4 4 ms 2 * 1.7 ms 0.9 ms 11.7

ms

3 0 4 ms 1.7 ms 0.9 ms 6.6 ms

ANS: Notice that Figure 7. 12 shows a virtual cylinder with exactly 5 tracks,
numbered from zero to four and 5 sectors, also numbered from zero to four. And
while the read/write heads can move in both directions, the cylinder does not rotate in
both directions. Therefore, if the next-requested sector has already been passed by, the
entire cylinder must rotate almost the entire way around to reach it. Remember, too,
that when the device begins, it is at the beginning of the sector. Thereafter, after
reading a sector, the head is at the end of that sector and the beginning of the next

UOS, 7e Ann McIver McHoes Chapter Seven, Page 5

 Understanding Operating Systems, 7th edition

sector. For this reason, the very first request appears to pass over an extra sector
(Sector 0, in this case).
7. Using an identical environment to the previous question, calculate the resulting seek
time, search time, data transfer time, and total time for the following Request List,
assuming that the read/write head begins at Track 3, Sector 0. Calculate the total time
required.

Track Sector Seek Search Time Data Total

Time Transfer Time
Time

3 0 This is the Starting Place = Beginning of Sector 0

2 5 4 ms 5 * 1.7 ms 0.9 ms 13.4 ms

1 2 4 ms 2 * 1.7 ms (because the head is 0.9 ms 8.3 ms

already at the end of sector 5 &
beginning of sector 0)

1 0 0 ms 3 * 1.7 ms 0.9 ms 6.0 ms

2 3 4 ms 2 * 1.7 ms 0.9 ms 8.3 ms

2 4 0 ms 0 ms (because the head is already at 0.9 ms 0.9 ms

the end of sector 3 & beginning of
sector 4)

1 0 4 ms 1 * 1.7 ms 0.9 ms 6.6 ms

ANS: Notice that Figure 7. 12 shows a virtual cylinder with exactly 5 tracks,
numbered from zero to four and 5 sectors, also numbered from zero to four. And
while the read/write heads can move in both directions, the cylinder does not rotate in
both directions. Therefore, if the next-requested sector has already been passed by, the
entire cylinder must rotate almost the entire way around to reach it. Remember that
when the device begins, it is at the beginning of the sector. Thereafter, after reading a
sector, the head is at the end of that sector and the beginning of the next sector. For
this reason, the very first request appears to pass over an extra sector (Sector 0, in this
case).

UOS, 7e Ann McIver McHoes Chapter Seven, Page 6

 Understanding Operating Systems, 7th edition

8. Minimizing the variance of system response time is an important goal, but it does not
always prevent an occasional user from suffering indefinite postponement. If you
were the system designer, what mechanism would you recommend for a disk
scheduling policy to counteract this problem and still provide reasonable response
time to the user population as a whole? What argument would you use with the
system management to allow your changes? ANS: Students should present a well-
reasoned, original answer here. Such an answer with logical supporting reasons as to
why it is better is acceptable.
9. Describe how implementation of a RAID Level 2 system would be beneficial to a
university payroll system. In your own words, describe the disadvantages of such a
system, if any, in that environment, and if appropriate, suggest an alternative RAID
system and explain your reasoning. ANS: RAID level 2 is an expensive and complex
configuration because all disks must be highly coordinated. It offers excellent
correctional ability should one disk fail. Students should present a well-reasoned,
original answer here. Such an answer with logical supporting reasons as to why it is
better is acceptable.

Advanced Exercises

10. Explain in your own words the relationship between buffering and spooling. Suggest
reasons why some people confuse the two. ANS: Buffering means data is written to a
temporary area while it waits to go to an I/O device (such as a monitor). Buffers are
often used to pair one fast resource with one slow resource. If the program is
constantly faster than the device, there could eventually be an overflow. The buffer
loses its data when the hardware is powered off.
Spooling uses the disk as a very large buffer. A typical example is a print spooler,
which collects data to be printed and stores it on the disk. The spooler does not send
the print job to the printer until it knows that both 1) the job is ready to be printed and
2) that the printer is ready for it. The spooler may not lose its data when the hardware
is powered off.

UOS, 7e Ann McIver McHoes Chapter Seven, Page 7

 Understanding Operating Systems, 7th edition

11. Under light loading conditions, every disk scheduling policy discussed in this chapter
tends to behave like one of the policies discussed in this chapter. Which one is it?
Explain why light loading is different than heaving loading. ANS: Under very light
loading conditions every disk scheduling policy presented would approximate FCFS
because the request queue would not have many entries and requests would be
satisfied as they occurred. The different policies described in this chapter really
differentiate themselves under heavy loading conditions because then the variations
among the requests can favor more efficient allocation of the computing resources.
12. Assume you have a file of 10 records (identified as A, B, C, . . . J) to be stored on a
disk that holds 10 records per track. Once the file is stored, the records will be
accessed sequentially: A, B, C, . . . J. It takes 1 ms to transfer each record from the
disk to main memory. It takes 2 ms to process each record once it has been transferred
into memory and the next record is not accessed until the current one has been
processed. It takes 10 ms for the disk to complete one rotation.
Suppose you store the records in the order given: A, B, C, . . . J. Compute how long it
will take to process all 10 records. Break up your computation into (1) the time to
transfer a record, (2) the time to process a record, and (3) the time to access the next
record. ANS:

Record Position Access Transfer Process Total

I.D. In track Time Time Time Time

A 0 0 2 1 3

B 1 8 2 1 11

C 2 8 2 1 11

D 3 8 2 1 11

E 4 8 2 1 11

F 5 8 2 1 11

G 6 8 2 1 11

H 7 8 2 1 11

I 8 8 2 1 11

UOS, 7e Ann McIver McHoes Chapter Seven, Page 8

 Understanding Operating Systems, 7th edition

J 9 8 2 1 11

Total 102

Note: remember that the disk continues to rotate so that when record A has been
processed and the next read command is issued the read/write head is not positioned at
the beginning of record B. As follows:

Read A

Processing with this record takes 2ms so the disk has rotated and the read/write head
is at the beginning of record D.

So now it has to wait for D, E, F to go by (8ms) until the beginning of record B is

positioned under the read/write head.

Now B can be read, and the whole process repeats itself.

13. Given the same situation described in the previous exercise:

a. Organize the records so that they’re stored in non-alphabetical order (not A, B, C,
. . . J) to reduce the time it takes to process them sequentially in alphabetical order.
ANS:
Position 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9
Record A H E B I F C J G D

b. Compute how long it will take to process all 10 records using this new order.
Break up your computation into (1) the time to transfer a record, (2) the time to
process a record, and (3) the time to access the next record. ANS:
Record Position Access Transfer Process Total
I.D. In track Time Time Time _ Time
A 0 0 2 1 3
H 1 0 2 1 3
E 2 0 2 1 3
B 3 0 2 1 3
I 4 0 2 1 3
F 5 0 2 1 3
C 6 0 2 1 3
J 7 0 2 1 3
G 8 0 2 1 3
D 9 0 2 1 3

UOS, 7e Ann McIver McHoes Chapter Seven, Page 9

 Understanding Operating Systems, 7th edition

Total 30
14. Track requests are not usually equally or evenly distributed. For example, the tracks
where the disk directory resides are accessed more often than those where the user’s
files reside. Suppose that you know that 50 percent of the requests are for a small,
fixed number of cylinders.
a. Which one of the scheduling policies presented in this chapter would be the best
under these conditions?
ANS:
a. It depends on where, on the disk, these heavily requested files are stored. For
example, if they are located in the mid-range numbered cylinders (in the case of
cylinders numbered 0 399, mid-range could be defined as cylinders 150 to 250), then
LOOK would be the optimal scheduling policy because the arm travels twice through
the mid-range cylinders: once on its way toward the center of the disk, and a second
time on its way toward the rim of the disk.
b. Can you design one that would be better?
b. Any reasonable answer is acceptable if it has logical supporting reasons as to why it
is better. Consider the probability factor in the design of the scheduling policy. It may
be possible to flag requests to those highly used cylinders, making them high priority
requests thus satisfying them first. Or, it may be possible to always position the
read/write heads at those cylinders after a long list of requests has been satisfied,
again giving them special treatment.
15. Find evidence of the latest technology for optical disc storage and complete the
following chart for three optical storage devices. Cite your sources and the dates of
their publication.
Type Transfer Rate Storage Average Access Cost in Dollars
(bytes per second) Capacity Time

CD-RW

DVD-RW

Blu-ray

UOS, 7e Ann McIver McHoes Chapter Seven, Page 10

 Understanding Operating Systems, 7th edition

ANS: These answers will vary as technology improves the design of each device and
lowers costs. Look for evidence that the student evaluated the available research
thoughtfully and has evidence of rigorous research.
16. Give an example of an environment or application that best matches the
characteristics of each of the following RAID levels:
a. Level 0
b. Level 1
c. Level 3
d. Level 5
e. Level 6
ANS: Answers will vary but some guidelines are shown here.

a. Level 0 transferring large quantities of non-critical data, such as document archives

b. Level 1 data-critical, real-time systems, such as space flight monitoring
c. Level 2 data-critical systems, not real-time, such as government record maintenance
d. Level 3 data-critical systems, not real-time, such as corporate financial records
e. Level 6 data-critical systems, not real-time, with extra error correction, such as
hospital record maintenance

Programming Exercise

17. (old question 15) Write a program that will simulate the FCFS, SSTF, LOOK, and C-
LOOK seek optimization strategies. Assume that:
a. The disk’s outer track is the 0 track and the disk contains 200 tracks per surface.
Each track holds eight sectors numbered 0 through 7.
b. A seek takes 10 + 0.1 * T ms, where T is the number of tracks of motion from one
request to the next, and 10 is a movement time constant.
c. One full rotation takes 7 ms.
d. Transfer time is 1.2 ms per sector.
Use the following data to test your program:
Arrival Time Track Requested Sector Requested

0 45 0

23 132 6

UOS, 7e Ann McIver McHoes Chapter Seven, Page 11

 Understanding Operating Systems, 7th edition

25 20 2

29 23 1

35 198 7

45 170 5

57 180 3

83 78 4

88 73 5

95 150 7

For comparison purposes, compute the average, variance, and standard deviation of the
time required to accommodate all requests under each of the strategies. Consolidate your
results into a table.
Optional: Run your program again with randomly generated data and compare your
results. Use a Poisson distribution for the arrival times and uniform distributions for the
tracks and sectors. Use the same data for each strategy, and generate enough requests to
obtain a 95% confidence interval for the mean access times. Recommend the best policy
and explain why. ANS: This assignment is best explained with a paper-and-pencil model
while the corresponding scheduling policies are presented in class. FCFS does not present
any problems but the other three require some up front time and practice before the
programming logic can be designed. For SSTF, LOOK and C-LOOK the time spent in
servicing a request impacts on which request will be satisfied next because several
requests may have arrived (see arrival time) while one was being served.
The fact that the sector requested may not be directly under the read/write head provides
the opportunity to address the problem of rotational delay. The students need to be
reminded that the disk continues to rotate while the arm is performing a seek. This is
important because it determines on which sector is the read/write head positioned, which
is one of the factors used in computing rotational delay.
Rotational delay can be computed using modulus 8 on seek time. For example, if the
read/write head is positioned at the beginning of sector 2 on track A and the arm is
moving toward track B with a calculated seek time of 24ms, then seek mod 8 will yield a
remainder of 0, which means that the read/write head is still positioned at the beginning

UOS, 7e Ann McIver McHoes Chapter Seven, Page 12

 Understanding Operating Systems, 7th edition

of sector 2 when the arm arrives at track B. On the other hand. using the same set up as
before but with a calculated seek time of 27, then seek mod 8 will yield a remainder of 3,
which means that the read/write head is positioned at the beginning of sector 5 (2 + 3)
when the arm arrives at track B.
The following equations were used to compute Service Time, Wait Time and Turn
Around Time:
1. Movement between tracks (MBT)

MBT = absolute value( Previous_Track – Current_Track)

2. Seek = 10 + 0.1 * (MBT)

3. Rotational_Displacement = REM(Seek / 8) [or Seek MOD 8]

4. Extra_records = Rotational_Displacement + Previous_Record

IF Extra_Records > 7

THEN

Extra_Records = REM(Extra_Records / 8) [or Extra_Records MOD 8]

END IF

5. Rotational_Delay = REM {[Current_Record + (8 – Extra_Records)] / 8}

[or {Current_Record + (8 – Extra_Records)} MOD 8]

6. Service_Time = Seek + Rotational_Delay + Transfer_Time

Sample output from FCFS:

Arrival Track. Sector Service

Time Requested Requested Time

0 45 0 17

23 132 6 22

25 20 2 28

29 23 1 15

35 198 7 30

45 170 5 14

UOS, 7e Ann McIver McHoes Chapter Seven, Page 13

 Understanding Operating Systems, 7th edition

57 180 3 14

83 78 4 25

88 73 5 17

95 150 7 18

Average service time = 20 ms

Variance (service time) = 27.2

Standard deviation (service time) = 5.22

Sample output from LOOK:

Arrival Track Sector Service

Time Requested Requested Time

0 45 0 17

23 132 6 22

45 170 5 15

57 180 3 14

35 198 7 12

83 78 4 25

88 73 5 13

29 23 1 20

25 20 2 13

95 150 7 29

Average service time = 18 ms

Variance (service time) = 33.5

Standard deviation (service time) = 5.78

UOS, 7e Ann McIver McHoes Chapter Seven, Page 14

Random documents with unrelated
content Scribd suggests to you:
themselves again.
"It was very gay, I suppose," she said. "And you saw Agnes?"
"I have just left her," he replied.
"You ought to have stayed," she said, turning away with a smile. "It
would have been better than quarrelling with Richard."
And she went out of the room and left them together, as he had told
himself it would be best she should.
He did not look at her as she ascended the staircase; he stood with
his back to the open door, and did not speak until he heard her go
into the room above them. Then he addressed Richard.
"Do you understand me now?" he said, sternly. "This is the
beginning!"
"The beginning!" exclaimed Richard, with a half frantic gesture. "If
this is the beginning—and things go wrong—imagine what the end
will be!"
The room Bertha had entered was the nursery. In the room opening
out of it Jack and Janey slept in their small beds. Upon the hearth-
rug lay a broken toy. She bent to pick it up, and afterward stood a
moment holding it in her hand without seeing it; she still held it as
she sank into a chair which was near her.
"I will stay here a while," she said. "This is the best place for me."
For a few minutes she sat quite still; something like a stupor had
settled upon her; she was thinking in a blind, disconnected way of
Agnes Sylvestre. Everything would be right at last. Agnes would be
happy. This was what she had wished—what she had intended from
the first—when she had brought them together. It was she who had
brought them together. And this was the plan she had had in her
mind when she had done it; and she had known what it would cost
her even then. And then there came back to her the memory of the
moment when she had turned away from them to pour out
Laurence's coffee with hands she could not hold still, and whose
tremor he saw and understood. Poor Laurence! he must suffer too!
Poor Laurence!
She looked down suddenly at the broken toy in her hand.
"I will stay here more," she said. "It is better here. There is nothing
else! And if I were a good woman I should want nothing else. If I
had only not spoken to Agnes,—that was the mistake; if she will only
forget it! Some one should be happy—some one! It will be Agnes."
She got up and went into the children's room, and knelt down by
Janey's bed, laying the toy on the coverlet. She put her arms around
the child and spoke her name.
"Janey!" she said. "Janey!"
The child stirred, opened her eyes, and put an arm sleepily about
her neck.
"I said my prayers," she murmured. "God bless mamma and papa—
and everybody! God bless Uncle Philip!"
Bertha laid her face near her upon the pillow.
"Yes," she said, brokenly. "You belong to me and I belong to you. I
will stay here, Janey—with you."
 CHAPTER XXXIII.
Sometimes during the winter, when she glanced around her parlor
on the evenings of her receptions Bertha felt as if she was in a
waking dream,—so many people of whom she seemed to know
nothing were gathered about her; she saw strange faces on every
side; a new element had appeared, which was gradually crowding
out the old, and she herself felt that she was almost a stranger in it.
Day by day, and by almost imperceptible degrees at first, various
mysterious duties had devolved upon her. She had found herself
calling at one house because the head of it was a member of a
committee, at another because its mistress was a person whose
influence over her husband it would be well to consider; she had
issued an invitation here because the recipients must be pleased,
another there because somebody was to be biassed in the right
direction. The persons thus to be pleased and biassed were by no
means invariably interesting. There was a stalwart Westerner or so,
who made themselves almost too readily at home; an occasional
rigid New Englander, who suspected a lack of purpose in the
atmosphere; and a stray Southerner, who exhibited a tendency
towards a large and rather exhaustive gallantry. As a rule, too,
Bertha was obliged to admit that she found the men more easily
entertained than the women, who were most of them new to their
surroundings, and privately determined to do themselves credit and
not be imposed upon by appearances; and when this was not the
case were either timorously overpowered by a sense of their
inadequacy to the situation, or calmly intrenched behind a shield of
impassive composure, more discouraging than all else. It was not
always easy to enliven such material: to be always ready with the
right thing to say and do; to understand, as by inspiration, the
intricacies of every occasion and the requirements of every mental
condition, and while Bertha spared no effort, and used her every gift
to the best of her ability, the result, even when comparatively
successful, was rather productive of exhaustion, mental and
physical.
"They don't care about me," she said to Arbuthnot one night, with a
rueful laugh, as she looked around her. "And I am always afraid of
their privately suspecting that I don't care about them. Sometimes
when I look at them I cannot help being overpowered by a sense of
there being a kind of ludicrousness in it all. Do you know, nearly
every one of them has a reason for being here, and it is never by
any chance connected with my reason for inviting them. I could give
you some of the reasons. Shall I? Some of them are feminine
reasons, and some of them are masculine. That woman at the end
of the sofa—the thin, eager-looking one—comes because she wishes
to accustom herself to society. Her husband is a 'rising man,' and
she is in love with him, and has a hungry desire to keep pace with
him. The woman she is talking to has a husband who wants
something Senator Planefield may be induced to give him—and
Senator Planefield is on his native heath here; that showy little
Southern widow has a large claim against the government, and
comes because she sees people she thinks it best to know. She is
wanted because she has a favorite cousin who is given patriotically
to opposing all measures not designed to benefit the South. It is
rather fantastic when you reflect upon it, isn't it?"
"You know what I think about it without asking," answered
Arbuthnot.
"Yes, you have told me," was her response; "but it will be all over
before long, and then—Ah! there is Senator Blundel! Do you know, it
is always a relief to me when he comes;" and she went toward him
with a brighter look than Arbuthnot had seen her wear at any time
during the entire evening.
It had taken her some time herself to decide why it was that she
liked Blundel and felt at ease with him; in fact, up to the present
period she had scarcely done more than decide that she did like him.
She had not found his manner become more polished as their
acquaintance progressed; he was neither gallant nor accomplished;
he was always rather full of himself, in a genuine, masculine way. He
was blunt, and by no means tactful; but she had never objected to
him from the first, and after a while she had become conscious of
feeling relief, as she had put it to Arbuthnot, when his strong, rather
aggressive, personality presented itself upon the scene. He was not
difficult to entertain, at least. Finding in her the best of listeners he
entertained himself by talking to her, and by making sharp jokes, at
which they both laughed with equal appreciation. He knew what to
talk about too, and what subjects to joke on; and, however
apparently communicative his mood might be, his opinions were
always kept thriftily in hand.
"He seems to talk a good deal," Richard said, testily; "but, after all,
you don't find out much of what he really thinks."
Bertha had discovered this early in their acquaintance. If the object
in making the house attractive to him was that he might be led to
commit himself in any way during his visits, that object was scarcely
attained. When at last it appeared feasible to discuss the Westoria
lands project in his presence, he showed no unwillingness to listen
or to ask questions; but, the discussion being at an end, if notes had
been compared no one could have said that he had taken either side
of the question.
"He's balancing things," Planefield said. "I told you he would do it.
You may trust him not to speak until he has made up his mind which
side of the scale the weight is on."
When these discussions were being carried on Bertha had a fancy
that he was more interested than he appeared outwardly. Several
times she had observed that he asked her questions afterward which
proved that no word had dropped on his ear unheeded, and that he
had, for some reason best known to himself, reflected upon all he
had heard. But their acquaintance had a side entirely untouched by
worldly machinations, and it was this aspect of it which Bertha liked.
There was something homely and genuine about it. He paid her no
compliments; he even occasionally found fault with her habits, and
what he regarded as the unnecessary conventionality of some of her
surroundings; but his good-natured egotism never offended her. A
widower without family, and immersed in political business, he knew
little of the comforts of home life. He lived in two or three rooms, full
of papers, books, and pigeon-holes, and took his meals at a hotel.
He found this convenient, if not luxurious, and more than
convenience it had never yet occurred to him to expect or demand.
But he was not too dull to appreciate the good which fell in his way;
and after spending an hour with the Amorys on two or three
occasions, when he had left the scene of his political labors fagged
and out of humor, he began to find pleasure and relief in his
unceremonious visits, and looked forward to them. There came an
evening when Bertha, in looking over some music, came upon a
primitive ballad, which proved to be among the recollections of his
youth, and she aroused him to enthusiasm by singing it. His musical
taste was not remarkable for its cultivation; he was strongly in favor
of pronounced melody, and was disposed to regard a song as
incomplete without a chorus; but he enjoyed himself when his
prejudices were pandered to, and Bertha rather respected his
courageous, if benighted, frankness, and his obstinate faith in his
obsolete favorites. So she sang "Ben Bolt" to him, and "The Harp
that once through Tara's Halls," and others far less classical and
more florid, and while she sang he sat ungracefully, but comfortably,
by the fire, his eyes twinkling less watchfully, the rugged lines of his
blunt-featured face almost settling into repose, and sometimes when
she ended he roused himself with something like a sigh.
"Do you like it?" she would say. "Does it make you forget 'the
gentleman from Indiana' and the 'senator from Connecticut'?"
"I don't want to forget them," he would reply with dogged good-
humor. "They are not the kind of fellows it is safe to forget, but it
makes my recollections of them more agreeable."
But after a while there were times when he was not in the best of
humors, and when Bertha had a fancy that he was not entirely at
ease or pleased with herself. At such times his visits were brief and
unsatisfactory, and she frequently discovered that he regarded her
with a restless and perturbed expression, as if he was not quite
certain of his own opinions of her.
"He looks at me," she said to Richard, "as if he had moments of
suspecting me of something."
"Nonsense!" said Richard. "What could he suspect you of?"
"Of nothing," she answered. "I think that was what we agreed to call
it."
But she never failed to shrink when the twinkling eyes rested upon
her with the disturbed questioning in their glance, and the
consciousness of this shrinking was very bitter to her in secret.
When her guest approached her on the evening before referred to,
she detected at once that he was not in a condition of mind
altogether unruffled. The glances he cast on those about him were
not encouraging, and the few nods of recognition he bestowed were
far from cordial; his hair stood on end a trifle more aggressively than
usual, and his short, stout body expressed a degree of general
dissatisfaction which it was next to impossible to ignore.
Bertha did not attempt to ignore it.
"I will tell you something before you speak to me," she said.
"Something has put you out of humor."
He gave her a sharp glance, and then looked away over the heads of
the crowd.
"There is always enough to put a man out of humor," he said. "What
a lot of people you have here to-night! What do they come for?"
"I have just been telling Mr. Arbuthnot some of the reasons," she
answered. "They are very few of them good ones. You came hoping
to recover your spirits."
"I came to look at you," he said.
He was frequently blunt, but there was a bluntness about this
speech which surprised her. She answered him with a laugh,
however.
"I am always worth looking at," she said. "And now you have seen
me"—
He was looking at her by this time, and even more sharply than
before. It seemed as if he was bent upon reading in her face the
answer to the question he had asked of it before, but he evidently
did not find it.
"There's something wrong with you," he said. "I don't know what it
is. I don't know what to make of you."
"If you could make anything of me but Bertha Amory," she replied,
"you might do a service to society; but that is out of the question,
and as to there being something wrong with me, there is something
wrong with all of us. There is something wrong with Mr. Arbuthnot,
he is not enjoying himself; there is something wrong with Senator
Planefield, who has been gloomy all the evening."
"Planefield," he said. "Ah! yes, there he is! Here pretty often, isn't
he?"
"He is a great friend of Richard's," she replied, with discretion.
"So I have heard," he returned. And then he gave his attention to
Planefield for a few minutes, as if he found him also an object of
deep interest. After this inspection he turned to Bertha again.
"Well," he said, "I suppose you enjoy all this, or you wouldn't do it?"
"You are not enjoying it," she replied. "It does not exhilarate you as
I hoped it would."
"I am out of humor," was his answer. "I told you so. I have just
heard something I don't like. I dropped in here to stay five minutes,
and take a look at you and see if"—
He checked himself and rubbed his upright hair impatiently, almost
angrily.
"I am not sure that you mightn't be enjoying yourself better," he
said, "and I should like to know something more of you than I do."
"If any information I can give you"—she began.
"Come," he said, with a sudden effort at better humor, "that is the
way you talk to Planefield. We are too good friends for that."
His shrewd eyes fixed themselves on her as if asking the
unanswered question again.
"Come!" he said. "I'm a blunt, old-fashioned fogy, but we are good,
honest friends,—and always have been."
She glanced across the room at Richard, who was talking to a
stubborn opposer of the great measure, and making himself
delightful beyond description. She wished for the moment that he
was not quite so picturesque and animated; then she gathered
herself together.
"I think we have been," she said. "I hope you will believe so."
"Well," he answered, "I shouldn't like to believe anything else."
She thought that perhaps he had said more than he originally
intended; he changed the subject abruptly, made a few comments
upon people near them, asked a few questions, and finally went
away, having scarcely spoken to any one but herself.
"Why did he not remain longer?" Richard asked afterward, when the
guests were gone and they were talking the evening over.
"He was not in the mood to meet people," Bertha replied. "He said
he had heard something he did not like, and it had put him out of
humor. I think it was something about me."
"About you!" Richard exclaimed. "Why, in Heaven's name, about
you?"
"His manner made me think so," she answered, coldly. "And it would
not be at all unnatural. I think we may begin to expect such things."
"Upon my word," said Richard, starting up, "I think that is going
rather far. Don't you see"—with righteous indignation—"what an
imputation you are casting on me? Do you suppose I would allow
you to do anything that—that"—
She raised her eyes and met his with an unwavering glance.
"Certainly not," she said, quickly. And his sentence remained
unfinished, not because he felt that his point had been admitted, but
because, for some mysterious reason, it suddenly became impossible
for him to say more.
More than some of late, when he had launched into one of his
spasmodic defences of himself, he had found himself checked by this
intangible power in her uplifted eyes, and he certainly did not feel
his grievances the less for the experiences.
Until during the last few months he had always counted it as one of
his wife's chief charms that there was nothing complicated about
her, that her methods were as simple and direct as a child's. It had
never seemed necessary to explain her. But he had not found this so
of late. He had even begun to feel that, though there was no
outward breach in the tenor of their lives, an almost impalpable
barrier had risen between them. He expressed no wish she did not
endeavor to gratify her manner toward himself, with the exception of
the fleeting moments when he had felt the check, was entirely
unchanged; the spirit of her gayety ruled the house, as it had always
done; and yet he was not always sure of the exact significance of
her jests and laughter. The jests were clever, the laugh had a light
ring; but there was a difference which puzzled him, and which,
because he recognized in it some vague connection with himself, he
tried in his moments of leisure to explain. He had even spoken of it
to Colonel Tredennis on occasions when his mood was confidential.
"She used to be as frank as a child," he said, "and have the lightest
way in the world; and I liked it. I am a rather feather-headed fellow
myself, perhaps, and it suited me. But it is all gone now. When she
laughs I don't feel sure of her, and when she is silent I begin to
wonder what she is thinking of."
The thing she thought, the words she said to herself oftenest were:
"It will not last very long." She said them over to herself at moments
she could not have sustained herself under but for the consolation
she found in them. Beyond this time, when what she faced from day
to day would be over, she had not yet looked.
"It is a curious thing," she said to Arbuthnot, "but I seem to have
ceased even to think of the future. I wonder sometimes if very old
people do not feel so—as if there was nothing more to happen."
There was another person who found the events of the present
sufficient to exclude for the time being almost all thought of the
future. This person was Colonel Tredennis, who had found his
responsibilities increase upon him also,—not the least of these
responsibilities being, it must be confessed, that intimacy with Mr.
Richard Amory of which Bertha had spoken.
"He is very intimate with Richard," she had said, and she had every
reason for making the comment.
At first it had been the colonel who had made the advances, for
reasons of his own, but later it had not been necessary for him to
make advances. Having found relief in making his first reluctant half-
confidences, Richard had gradually fallen into making others. When
he had been overpowered by secret anxiety and nervous distrust of
everything, finding himself alone with the colonel, and admiring and
respecting above all things the self-control he saw in him,—a self-
control which meant safety and silence under all temptations to
betray the faintest shadow of a trust reposed in him,—it had been
impossible for him to resist the impulse to speak of the trials which
beset him; and, having once spoken of them, it was again impossible
not to go a little farther, and say more than he had at first intended.
So he had gone on from one step to another until there had come a
day when the colonel himself had checked him for an instant, feeling
it only the part of honor in the man who was the cooler of the two,
and who had nothing to risk or repent.
"Wait a moment," he said. "Remember that, though I have not
asked questions so far, I am ready to hear anything you choose to
say, but don't tell me what you might wish you had kept back to-
morrow."
"The devil take it all," cried Richard, dashing his fist on the table. "I
must tell some one, or I shall go mad." But the misery which
impelled him notwithstanding, he always told his story in his own
way, and gave it a complexion more delicate than a less graceful
historian might have been generous enough to bestow. He had been
too sanguine and enthusiastic; he had made mistakes; he had been
led by the duplicity of a wily world into follies; he had been
unfortunate; those more experienced than himself had betrayed the
confidence it had been only natural he should repose in them. And
throughout the labyrinth of the relation he wound his way,—a
graceful, agile, supple figure, lightly avoiding an obstacle here,
dexterously overstepping a barrier there, and untouched by any
shadow but that of misfortune.
At first he spoke chiefly of the complications which bore heavily
upon him; and these complications, arising entirely from the actions
of others, committed him to so little that the colonel listened with
apprehension more grave than the open confession of greater
blunders would have awakened in him. "He would tell more," he
thought, "if there were less to tell."
The grim fancy came to him sometimes as he listened, that it was as
if he watched a man circling about the edge of a volcano, drawing
nearer and nearer, until at last, in spite of himself, and impelled by
some dread necessity, he must plunge headlong in. And so Richard
circled about his crater: sometimes drawn nearer by the emotion
and excitement of the moment, sometimes withdrawing a trifle
through a caution as momentary, but in each of his circlings
revealing a little more of the truth. The revelations were principally
connected with the Westoria lands scheme, and were such in many
instances as the colonel was not wholly unprepared to hear. He had
not looked on during the last year for nothing, and often, when
Richard had been in gay good spirits, and had imagined himself
telling nothing, his silent companion had heard his pleasantries with
forebodings which he could not control. He was not deceived by any
appearance of entire frankness, and knew that he had not been told
all until one dark and stormy night, as he sat in his room, Richard
was announced, and came in pallid, haggard, beaten by the rain,
and at the lowest ebb of depression. He had had a hard and bitter
day of it, and it had followed several others quite as hard and bitter;
he had been fagging about the Capitol, going the old rounds, using
the old arguments, trying new ones, overcoming one obstacle only
to find himself confronted with another, feeling that he was losing
ground where it was a matter of life and death that he should gain
it; spirits and courage deserting him just when he needed them
most; and all this being over, he dropped into his office to find
awaiting him there letters containing news which gave the final
blow.
He sat down by the table and began his outpourings, graceful,
attractive, injured. The colonel thought him so, as he watched him
and listened, recognizing meanwhile the incompleteness of his
recital, and making up his mind that the time had come when it was
safer that the whole truth should be told. In the hours in which he
had pondered upon the subject he gradually decided that such an
occasion would arrive; and here it was.
So at a certain fitting juncture, just as Richard was lightly skirting a
delicate point, Tredennis leaned forward and laid his open hand on
the table with a curious simplicity of gesture.
"I think," he said, "you had better tell me the whole story. You have
never done it yet. What do you say?"
The boarder on the floor below, who had heard him walking to and
fro on the first New Year's night he had spent in Washington, and on
many a night since, heard his firm, regular tread again during the
half hour in which Richard told, in fitful outbursts, what he had not
found himself equal to telling before. It was not easy to tell it in a
very clear and connected manner; it was necessary to interlard it
with many explanations and extenuations, and even when these
were supplied there was a baldness about the facts, as they
gradually grouped themselves together, which it was not agreeable
to contemplate; and Richard felt this himself gallingly.
"I know how it appears to you," he said; "I know how it sounds!
That is the maddening side of it,—it looks so much worse than it
really is! There is not a man living who would accuse me of
intentional wrong. Confound it! I seem to have been forced into
doing the very things it was least natural to me to do! Bertha herself
would say it,—she would understand it. She is always just and
generous!"
"Yes," said the colonel; "I should say she had been generous."
"You mean that I have betrayed her generosity!" cried Richard.
"That, of course! I expected it."
"You will find," said the colonel, "that others will say the same
thing."
He had heard even more than his worst misgivings had suggested to
him, and the shock of it had destroyed something of his self-control.
For the time being he was in no lenient mood.
"I know what people will say!" Richard exclaimed. "Do you suppose I
have not thought of it a thousand times? I know what I should say if
I did not know the circumstances. It is the circumstances that make
the difference."
"The fact that they are your circumstances, and not another man's,"
began Tredennis; but there he checked himself. "I beg your pardon,"
he said, coldly. "I have no right to meet your confidence with blame.
It will do no good. If I can give you no help, I might better be silent.
There were circumstances which appeared extenuating to you, I
suppose."
He was angered by his own anger, as he had often been before. He
told himself that he was making the matter a personal cause, as
usual; but how could he hear that her very generosity and simplicity
had been used against her by the man who should have guarded her
interests as his first duty, without burning with sharp and fierce
indignation.
"If I understand you," he said, "your only hope of recovering what
you have lost lies in the success of the Westoria scheme?"
"Yes," answered Amory, with his forehead on his hands, "that is the
diabolical truth!"
"And you have lost?"
"Once I was driven into saying to you that if the thing should fail it
would mean ruin to me. That was the truth, too."
The colonel stood still.
"Ruin to you!" he said. "Ruin to your wife—ruin to your children—
serious loss to the old man who"—
"Who trusted me!" Richard finished, gnawing his white lips. "I see it
in exactly the same light myself, and it does not make it easier to
bear. That is the way a thing looks when it fails. Suppose it had
succeeded. It may succeed yet. They trusted me, and, I tell you, I
trusted myself."
It was easy to see just what despair would seize him if the worst
came to the worst, and how powerless he would be in its clutches.
He was like a reed beaten by the wind, even now. A sudden
paroxysm of fear fell upon him.
"Great God!" he cried. "It can't fail! What could I say to them—how
could I explain it?"
A thousand wild thoughts surged through Tredennis' brain as he
heard him. The old sense of helplessness was strong upon him. To
his upright strength there seemed no way of judging fairly of, or
dealing practically with, such dishonor and weakness. What standard
could be applied to a man who lied agreeably in his very thoughts of
himself and his actions? He had scarcely made a statement during
the last hour which had not contained some airy falsehood. Of whom
was it he thought in his momentary anguish? Not of Bertha—not of
her children—not of the gentle old scholar, who had always been
lenient with his faults. It was of himself he was thinking—of Richard
Amory, robbed of his refined picturesqueness by mere circumstance
and placed by bad luck at a baleful disadvantage!
For a few minutes there was a silence. Richard sat with his brow
upon his hands, his elbows on the table before him. Tredennis paced
to and fro, looking downward. At length Richard raised his head. He
did so because Tredennis had stopped his walk.
"What is it?" he asked.
Tredennis walked over to him and sat down. He was pale, and wore
a set and rigid look, the chief characteristic of which was that it
expressed absolutely nothing. His voice was just as hard and
expressed as little when he spoke.
"I have a proposition to make to you," he said, "and I will preface it
by the statement that, as a business man, I am perfectly well aware
that it is almost madness to make it. I say 'almost.' Let it rest there.
I will assume the risks you have run in the Westoria scheme. Invest
the money you have charge of in something safer. You say there are
chances of success. I will take those chances."
"What!" cried Richard. "What!"
He sat upright, staring. He did not believe the evidence of his
senses; but Tredennis went on, without the quiver of a muscle,
speaking steadily, almost monotonously.
"I have money," he said. "More than you know, perhaps. I have had
recently a legacy which would of itself make me a comparatively rich
man. That I was not dependent upon my pay you knew before. I
have no family. I shall not marry. I am fond of your children, of
Janey particularly. I should have provided for her future in any case.
You have made a bad investment in these lands; transfer them to
me and invest in something safer."
"And if the bill fails to pass!" exclaimed Richard.
"If it fails to pass I shall have the land on my hands; if it passes I
shall have made something by a venture, and Janey will be the
richer; but, as it stands, the venture had better be mine than yours.
You have lost enough."
Richard gave his hair an excited toss backward, and stared at him as
he had done before; a slight, cold moisture broke out on his
forehead.
"You mean"—he began, breathlessly.
"Do you remember," said Tredennis, "what I told you of the
comments people were beginning to make? They have assumed the
form I told you they would. It is best for—for your children that they
should be put an end to. If I assume these risks there will be no
farther need for you to use—to exert yourself." He began to look
white about the mouth, and through his iron stolidity there was
something revealed before which Richard felt himself quail. "The
night that Blundel came in to your wife's reception, and remained so
short a time, he had heard a remark upon the influence she was
exerting over him, and it had had a bad effect. The remark was
made publicly at one of the hotels." He turned a little whiter, and the
something all the strength in him had held down at the outset
leaped to the surface. "I have no wife to—to use," he said; "if I had,
by Heavens, I would have spared her!"
He had held himself in hand and been silent a long time, but he
could not do it now.
"She is the mother of your children," he cried, clenching his great
hand. "And women are beginning to avoid her, and men to bandy
her name to and fro. You have deceived her; you have thrown away
her fortune; you have used her as an instrument in your schemes. I,
who am only an outsider, with no right to defend her—I defend her
for her father's sake, for her child's, for her own! You are on the
verge of ruin and disgrace. I offer you the chance to retrieve
yourself—to retrieve her! Take it, if you are a man!"
Richard had fallen back in his chair breathless and ashen. In all his
imaginings of what the future might hold he had never thought of
such a possibility as this,—that it should be this man who would turn
upon him and place an interpretation so fiercely unsparing upon
what he had done! Under all his admiration and respect for the
colonel there had been hidden, it must be admitted, an almost
unconscious touch of contempt for him, as a rather heavy and
unsophisticated personage, scarcely versatile or agile enough, and
formed in a mould somewhat obsolete and quixotic,—a safe person
to confide in, and one to invite confidence passively by his belief in
what was presented to him; a man to make a good listener and to
encourage one to believe in one's own statements, certainly not a
man to embarrass and discourage a historian by asking difficult
questions or translating too literally what was said. He had not asked
questions until to-night, and his face had said very little for him on
any occasion. Among other things Richard had secretly—though
leniently—felt him to be a trifle stolid, and had amiably forgiven him
for it. It was this very thing which made the sudden change appear
so keen an injustice and injury; it amounted to a breach of
confidence, that he should have formed a deliberate and obstinate
opinion of his own, entirely unbiassed by the presentation of the
case offered to him. He had spoken more than once, it was true, in a
manner which had suggested prejudice; but it had been the
prejudice of the primeval mind, unable to adjust itself to modern
conditions and easily disregarded by more experienced. But now!—
he was stolid no longer. His first words had startled Richard beyond
expression. His face said more for him than his words; it burned
white with the fire it had hidden so long; his great frame quivered
with the passion of the moment; when he had clenched his hand it
had been in the vain effort to hold it still; and yet the man who saw
it recognized in it only the wrath and scorn which had reference to
himself. Perhaps it was best that it should have been so,—best that
his triviality was so complete that he could see nothing which was
not in some way connected with his own personality.
"Tredennis," he gasped out, "you are terribly harsh! I did not think
you"—
"Even if I could lie and palter to you," said Tredennis, his clenched
hand still on the table, "this is not the time for it. I have tried before
to make you face the truth, but you have refused to do it. Perhaps
you had made yourself believe what you told me,—that no harm was
meant or done. I know what harm has been done. I have heard the
talk of the hotel corridors and clubs!" His hand clenched itself harder
and he drew in a sharp breath.
"It is time that you should give this thing up," he continued, with
deadly determination. "And I am willing to shoulder it. Who else
would do the same thing?"
"No one else," said Richard, bitterly. "And it is not for my sake you
do it either; it is for the sake of some of your ideal fancies that are
too fine for us worldlings to understand, I swear!" And he felt it
specially hard that it was so.
"Yes," replied the colonel, "I suppose you might call it that. It is not
for your sake, as you say. It has been one of my fancies that a man
might even deny himself for the sake of an—an idea, and I am not
denying myself. I am only giving to your child, in one way, what I
meant to give to her in another. She would be willing to share it with
her mother, I think."
And then, somehow, Richard began to feel that this offer was a
demand, and that, even if his sanguine mood should come upon him
again, he would not find it exactly easy to avoid it. It seemed
actually as if there was something in this man—some principle of
strength, of feeling, of conviction—which almost constituted a right
by which he might contend for what he asked; and before it, in his
temporary abasement and anguish of mind, Richard Amory faltered.
He said a great deal, it is true, and argued his case as he had
argued it before, being betrayed in the course of the argument by
the exigencies of the case to add facts as well as fancies. He
endeavored to adorn his position as much as possible, and, naturally,
his failure was not entire. There were hopes of the passage of the
bill, sometimes strong hopes, it seemed; if the money he had
invested had been his own; if it had not been for the failure of his
speculations in other quarters; if so much had not depended upon
failure and success,—he would have run all risks willingly. There
were, indeed, moments when it almost appeared that his companion
was on the point of making a capital investment, and being much
favored thereby.
"It is really not half so bad as it seems," he said, gaining
cheerfulness as he talked. "But, after such a day as I have had, a
man loses courage and cannot look at things collectedly. I have been
up and down in the scale a score of times in the last eight hours.
That is where the wear and tear comes in. A great deal depends on
Blundel; and I had a talk with him which carried us farther than we
have ever been before."
"Farther," said Tredennis. "In what direction?"
Richard flushed slightly.
"I think I sounded him pretty well," he said. "There is no use
mincing matters; it has to be done. We have never been able to get
at his views of things exactly, and I won't say he went very far this
afternoon; but I was in a desperate mood, and—well, I think I
reached bottom. He half promised to call at the house this evening. I
dare say he is with Bertha now."
Something in his flush, which had a slightly excited and triumphant
air, something in his look and tone, caused Tredennis to start in his
chair.
"What is he there for?" he said. "What do you mean?"
Richard thrust his hands in his pockets. For a moment he seemed to
have lost all his grace and refinement of charm,—for the moment he
was a distinctly coarse and undraped human being.
"He has gone to make an evening call," he said. "And if she
manages him as well as she has managed him before,—as well as
she can manage any man she chooses to take in hand, and yet not
give him more than a smile or so,—your investment, if you make it,
may not turn out such a bad one."
 CHAPTER XXXIV.
Bertha had spent the greater part of the day with her children, as
she had spent part of many days lately. She had gone up to the
nursery after breakfast to see Jack and Janey at their lessons, and
had remained with them and given herself up to their entertainment.
She was not well; the weather was bad; she might give herself a
holiday, and she would spend it in her own way, in the one refuge
which never failed her.
"It is always quiet here," she said to herself. "If I could give up all
the rest—all of it—and spend all my days here, and think of nothing
else, I might be better. There are women who live so. I think they
must be better in every way than I am—and happier. I am sure I
should have been happier if I had begun so long ago."
And as she sat, with Janey at her side, in the large chair which held
them both, her arm thrown round the child's waist, there came to
her a vague thought of what the unknown future might form itself
into when she "began again." It would be beginning again when the
sea was between the new life and the old; everything would be left
behind—but the children. She would live as she had lived in Virginia,
always with the children—always with the children. "It is the only
safe thing," she thought, clasping Janey closer. "Nothing else is safe
for a woman who is unhappy. If one is happy one may be gay, and
look on at the world with the rest; but there are some who must not
look on—who dare not."
"Mamma," said Janey, "you are holding me a little too close, and
your face looks—it looks—as if you were thinking."
Bertha laughed to reassure her. They were used to this gay, soft
laugh of hers, as the rest of the world was. If she was silent, if the
room was not bright with the merriment she had always filled it