i
two-thirds of the inhabitants of this world live in that unreal atmosphere best described by the vulgar word of "bluff." about one-half the other third know that fact. the first two-thirds, not being able to determine which that latter half may be, exist in continual fear that they may guess wrongly in these vulgar fractions, and so make pretense where pretense is of no avail. shoddy fears nothing so much as what vulgarly is called "the real thing;" but the trouble with shoddy, the anxiety, nay, the agony of shoddy, bluff, pretense, insincerity, whatever you care to call it, lies largely in the fact that shoddy can not always tell when it has been discovered to be shoddy.
there did not lack times in john rawn's social life when he felt a very considerable trepidation regarding himself. he often looked at the tall mansion houses which he passed on his daily journey to and from his home, and wondered whether the occupants of some of them did not live a life of which he was ignorant. he wondered if, after all, there might not be something money could not buy.
for instance, in regard to those collector's pieces of which he had heard. how could they be distinguished from other and less preferred articles of furnishing? since he and his wife lacked judgment in such matters, what was the remedy? how could he set matters right without discovering his own ignorance? he was like an indian, ashamed to learn.
ii
mr. rawn was in an unusually abject mental state, one morning, some months after he had taken charge of the headquarters offices of the international power company. it was not often he had much recourse to spleen-venting beyond that of the disgruntled man, who most frequently takes it out on the minor office force. by this time he had learned his battery of buttons, and now he pressed one after the other, in order that he might express to the entire personnel of the office staff his personal belief of their unfitness to exist, let alone to execute business duties in a concern such as this.
he reserved one button for the last—the one farthest to the right upon his glass-topped desk. he knew what pressure upon that button would bring, and he felt a curious shrinking, a timidity, when he reflected upon that fact. he knew he could cause to stand before him a vision of calm, cool and somewhat superior femininity. in a few short months mr. rawn had learned to trust, to respect and to dread his assistant, miss virginia delaware. in fact, it occurred to him at this very moment that she might perhaps be one of that half of the other third who can distinguish between pretense and the actual, between shoddy and the valid article.
yet though this thought gave him a manner of chill, there was with it an attendant thought which caused him to glow with the joy of power. by simply dropping his finger, he, john rawn, could summon into his presence the figure of a beautiful young woman—a woman not yet grown old and gray; a woman of personal charm; a woman calm, cool and superior. he stretched his own large limbs, glanced at his rugged frame, his somewhat lined face in the glass of the cloak-room door. he looked upon himself and saw that he was good; as god looked upon the world when he made it. he was of belief that a little gray hair at the temples was no such bar after all in a man's appearance.
iii
rawn had lived a life singularly clean and innocent. his youth had been gawky, his manhood ignorant. but now, somehow, somewhere, deep in some unsuspected corner of his nature, john rawn felt glowing something heretofore unknown to him. he did not know what it was. at times it seemed to him he could see opening out before him a new world of wide and inviting expanses, a world of warmth and light and luxury and color; in short, a world as unlike kelly row as you may well imagine, inhabited by beings wholly different from those obtaining in kelly row. and there, among all these, one.... it is to be seen, in fact, that the life of the city began to open before john rawn. the soul of the city is woman, as it was the soul of rome. rawn was learning what hitherto he had small opportunity to learn. at times he leaned back in luxurious realization of the fact that he, john rawn, late railway clerk, but born to the purple, could by a touch upon this certain plate of mother-of-pearl call before him in reality a vision which sometimes he saw within his mind.
john rawn reached out and touched the last button to the right in the row. she appeared before him a moment later, silently, as calm, as cool, as unsmiling and as dignified as was her wont. not even the quiver of an eyelid evinced concern as to what her next duty was to be.
iv
in appearance virginia delaware might have won approval from a closer critic than john rawn. her face really was almost classical in its lines, her poise and dignity now might have been that of some young, clean-limbed wood-goddess of old. she always seemed unfit for humdrum duties. surely she had won the vast hatred of all her associates, who had experienced no raise of salaries whatever, under the new régime; whereas, it was well known that the president's secretary had had one, two, or perhaps several. these others detested all forward and superior persons; as was their irreverent and wholly logical right.
"we have some letters this morning, miss delaware," began rawn. "you couldn't quite take care of them all, eh?"
"we handled all we could, mr. rawn, i have referred a large number to proper department heads, and answered quite a number. it seemed better to refer these for your own action."
"business growing, eh?" said rawn, turning around to his desk. the girl's reply was just properly enthusiastic for the business:
"it's wonderful the mail we get. inquiries come from all over the country. yes, indeed, it seems to grow. the idea goes like wildfire. i never knew anything like it. when we really have the installations made, it will be only a question of administration."
venturing nothing further, she seated herself at her table, book and pencil in hand, ready to begin. she did her work with a mechanical steadiness and lack of personality which might have classified her as indeed simply a cog in the vast machinery of the international power company. rawn had gained facility in his own work, and had found in himself a real faculty for prompt decision and speedy handling of detail. he went on now smoothly, mechanically, rapidly, almost forgetful of everything but the series of problems before him, and forgetting each of these as quickly as he took up the other. he cast a look of unconscious admiration of the girl's efficiency when at last, finishing, he found her also finished with her part, and without having caused him delay or interruption. with no comment now, she took up the finished letters which had been left for his signature. standing at his side, she literally fed them through the mill of his desk, taking away one signed sheet as she placed the other before him, smoothly, impersonally, swiftly. the work of the morning was beautiful in its mechanical aspect.
v
the business system of "international" was shaking down into a smooth and easy-running efficiency. at the close of this work, miss delaware remained wholly unruffled. turning toward her at last, john rawn felt that curious old feeling, half made up of chilling trepidation, half of something quite different. there seemed to be something upon his mind, some business still unfinished.
"i was about to say, miss delaware," he began at length, "that i am, as you know, a very busy man."
"yes, sir," she said, evenly and impersonally.
"i have so many things to do, you see, that i don't get much time to attend to little things outside of my business. a man's business is a millstone around his neck, miss delaware. we men of—ahem!—of affairs are little better than slaves."
"yes, mr. rawn," she said gently. "i can understand that."
"for instance, i don't even know, as long as i have been here in chicago, the names of the best firms of decorators, house furnishers, that sort of thing—"
"doesn't mrs. rawn get about very much, sir?"
"mrs. rawn unfortunately is not very well. also she has the habit of delaying in such matters. then, as i don't myself have the time to take care of everything—why, you see—"
her eyebrows were a trifle raised by now.
—"so i was just wondering whether i couldn't avail myself of your—your—very possible knowledge of these stores—shops, i mean."
"oh, very well. yes, sir. but i don't quite understand—"
"well, i want to pick up some collector's pieces for my home, you see."
"good pieces? yes, sir. of what sort?"
"why, furniture—or—yes—some china stuff, i suppose. maybe—er—some pictures."
"i see. you've not quite finished the decorations of your new home, graystone hall."
"oh, you know the place?"
"every one knows it, mr. rawn. it is very beautiful."
"it ought to be beautiful inside and out. to be brief about it, i know i oughtn't to ask an assistant who is only receiving forty-five dollars a week salary to act as expert for me in house decoration matters—that's entirely outside your business, miss delaware. at the same time—" miss delaware checked herself just in time not to mention the salary figure which mr. rawn had stated. if her oval cheek flushed a trifle, her long lashes did not flicker. this was ten dollars a week more. she had herself never once mentioned the matter of salary.
vi
"of course, mr. rawn, i'd be willing to do anything i could," she said. "i know the city pretty well, having lived here for some time. if you would rather have me use my time in that way, it would be a great pleasure. i like nice things myself, though of course i could never have them. i've just had to flatten my nose against the window-pane!" she laughed, a low and even little burst of laughter, rippling; the most personal thing she ever had been guilty of doing in the office—then checked herself, colored, and resumed her perfect calm.
"never mind about your other duties. take any time you like. go see what you can find me in this town."
"as in what particular?"
"well, take china. i shouldn't mind having some ornamental jars, vases—that sort of thing, you know."
"china's difficult, mr. rawn—one of the most difficult things into which one can go. there's a terrible range in it, you see. it can be cheap or very expensive, very grotesque or very beautiful. there are not many who know china. i suppose we mean porcelains?"
"yes, i know. but what would you suggest, for instance, for my large central room, which opens out upon the lake?"
"what is the color scheme, mr. rawn?"
"about everything the confounded builders and decorators could think of," said rawn frankly. "i think they called it a gray-and-silver motive. i know there's something in white, with dark red for the doors and facings."
miss delaware sat for a moment, a pencil against her lip, engaged in thought.
"well," said she at length, "i'm sure almost any of the good houses would send you up what you liked. there's everything in accord. you don't want anything that will 'swear,' as the phrase goes. if i were in your place, i would select a few really good pieces, and try them in place, in the rooms."
"yes, yes! but where'll i get them? how will i find them? that's why—"
"mr. rawn, there is really only one good selection in oriental porcelains in town to-day. the large shops have their art rooms, of course, but they're horrible, for the most part, although most of our 'best people' buy there—because they're fashionable. there's a little man on —— street. i just happened to see the things in his window as i went by one day. he has some beautiful pieces."
"and beautiful prices?"
"much higher than you would need to pay at any of the larger places, because these are genuine. none of them ever had such pieces as these—they wouldn't know them when they saw them. you must remember, mr. rawn, that if a piece of porcelain were only worth two dollars a thousand years ago, and it was one, say, of a thousand others just like it at that time, the loss by breakage of the other duplicates, and the lowest kind of compound interest from then till now, would warrant almost any sort of price you'd care to put on a real work of art—one that has come down from so long a time ago."
"you've got a good business head! you know the value of interest, and few women do. now, all i want to know is, that i'm not being done. i don't so much care about the price. but has this man anything in the real goods, and if so, what would you suggest?"
vii
miss delaware's answer might have proved a trifle disconcerting, even to one more critically versed than her employer. "in my own taste, mr. rawn," she said judicially, "there is nothing in the world so beautiful as some of the old chinese monochromes. they come sometimes in the most beautiful pale colors. there is the claire de lune, for instance—this little man has some perfectly wonderful specimens, three or four, i think; one good-sized jar. these pale blues grow on you. they don't seem so absolutely stunning at first, but they'll go anywhere; and they are beyond reproach in decoration. the pieces i saw are of the sung dynasty; so they can't have been made later than 1300. they came from u-chon, in the honan province. i thought them very fine, and from my acquaintance with porcelains, i believe them to be genuine pieces."
"i know," said rawn—he was perspiring rather freely—"but i confess i never was very much in love with chinese art."
"but we owe so much to it, mr. rawn," she said with gentle enthusiasm. "we learned all we know of underglaze and overglaze from the chinese—the best of our old english china was not made in england, but imported from the orient, as you know. chippendale got many of his own ideas in furniture decorations from the chinese, and so did the french—why, you'll see parisian bronzes, ever so old, and you couldn't tell whether they were made in france or china. and old! the man at this little shop has one piece which he says certainly was made before the christian era. if i were in your place, however, i would adhere, say, to the ming dynasty. then you'll get as low as 1644."
"you mean apiece?"
"oh, no, sir," she said gently, not smiling at his mistake. "i mean, the ming dynasty ended in the year 1644."
"of course—you didn't understand me." mr. rawn perspired yet more.
viii
"no—well, at least you'll find some good jars and vases of that period," continued miss delaware. "for instance, the ching period of that dynasty is very rich in the famille-verte, as the french describe it—some splendid apple-greens can be had in this. then there's one piece of that same period, i believe, of the famille-rose. it's a wonderful thing in egg shell porcelain, and i don't believe its like can be found to-day in all the lake shore drive—or even drexel boulevard; and say what you like, mr. rawn, there are fanciers there! in colors there is nothing to equal some of these fine old pieces. i wouldn't, of course, suggest the bizarre and striking ones, but i'd keep down to the quiet and solid colors, of some of the old and estimable periods. i don't know much about art, of course, but i've just happened to study a little bit into the old porcelains. i'd like to buy a few—for somebody! i couldn't go very far myself—when they come at a couple of thousand dollars apiece, for some of the better examples!"
rawn did not lack in gameness, and no muscle in his face changed as he nodded.
"the main thing is not to make the wrong selection, miss delaware," said he. "i wish you'd go around there to-morrow, if you find time, and see if this man will not send up four or five of his better pieces. i'll pass on them then."
"you may be sure of one thing, mr. rawn," said miss delaware, nodding with emphasis, "they will be real collector's pieces, and any one who knows about them will see what they are worth."
"all right, then. you'll be saving me a lot of time if you'll take care of that, miss delaware. now another thing. as i told you, mrs. rawn is ill a great deal of the time. i want to make her a little present—she must have—that is to say, i am desirous of sending her, for her birthday, you know, something like a ring or a pendant, in good stones. could you drop in at jansen's and have their man bring me over something this afternoon—i'll not have time to get out, i fear."
"certainly, mr. rawn. i'll be very glad, if i can be spared from the office."
"that's all, miss delaware."
she passed out gently, impersonally. rawn found himself looking at the door where she had vanished.
ix
it was perhaps an hour later that he re-opened the door himself in answer to a knock. miss delaware stood respectfully waiting. "there is a man from jansen's waiting for you, mr. rawn," said she.
"tell him to come in," said rawn. there rose from a near-by seat a gray-haired, grave and slender man, of sad demeanor, who presently removed from his pocket and spread out upon the glass top of john rawn's desk such display of gems as set the whole room aquiver with light. rawn felt his own eyes shine, his own soul leap. there always was something in diamonds which spoke to him.
"ah-hum!" said he, feigning indifference, "some pretty good ones, eh?" he poked around among them with the end of his penholder, as the gray and grave man quietly opened one paper package after another, and exposed his wares.
john rawn reached out and pushed the button farthest to the right in the long row on his desk. miss delaware came and stood quietly awaiting his command.
her eyes caught, in the next moment, the shivering radiance which now flamed on the desk top, as rawn poked around among the gems that lay under the beams of the westering sun which came through the window. rawn turned quickly. he thought he had heard a sigh, a sob.
something in the soul of virginia delaware leaped! for the first time her eyes shone with brighter fire; for the first time she half-gasped in actual emotion. there was something in diamonds which spoke to her also!
"essence of power!" said john rawn calmly, poking among the gems. the girl did not answer. the salesman coughed gently: "i should say a hundred and fifty thousand dollars worth there, mr. rawn," said he respectfully.
the man whom he addressed turned to the girl who stood there, her eyes dilated. he half smiled. "they're lovely!" said virginia delaware, in spite of herself, and now unmasked. "absolutely lovely! i love them!"
"pick out two things there," said john rawn sententiously, pushing himself back from the desk. "i should say this pendant. take a guess at the rings. what would mrs. rawn like; and what would about suit mrs. rawn?"
she bent above the desk, her eyes aflame at the sight of the brilliance that lay before her. something laughed up at her, spoke to her. her bosom heaved a bit.
"i should say your choice is excellent, mr. rawn," said she at length, gently, controlling herself. "the pendant is beautiful, set with the emeralds. see that chain in platinum—it is a dear! it's like a thread of moonlight, isn't it? and as for the rings, i'd take this one, i believe, with the two steel-blue stones."
"how much?" said john rawn, turning to the grave and gray salesman.
"the two pieces would cost you twenty-eight thousand dollars, sir," the latter replied, gravely and impersonally.
"miss delaware," said john rawn, taking from his pocket his personal check book, "oblige me by making out a check for that amount. bring it in to me directly—and have the boy call my car."
x
when john rawn ascended the steps of his mansion house that night, he fairly throbbed with the sense of his own self-approval. there was that in his pocket which, he thought, when worn by the wife of john rawn at any public place of display, would indicate what grade of life he, john rawn, had shown himself fit to occupy. he lost no time in summoning his wife, and with small adieu put in her extended hand the little mass of trembling, shivering gems. she gazed at them almost stupefied.
"well, well!" he broke out, "can't you say anything? what about it? they're yours."
"oh, john!" she began. "john! what do you mean? how could you—how could i—"
he flung out his hand in a gesture of despair. "oh, there you go again! can't you fall into line at all?"
"but john! i've never done anything in all my life to deserve them, of course. besides, i couldn't wear them—i really couldn't—i'd be afraid! and they wouldn't seem right—on me!"
"you've got to wear them!" he retorted. "we've got to go out once in a while if i'm to play this game—we've got to go to shows, theaters, operas, somewhere. they've got to sit up and say that we've got some class, laura, i'm telling you!"
"but, john! how would i look decked out in things like that? i'm so plain, common, you know."
"that's not the question. do you know how much these cost?"
"why, no—maybe a thousand dollars, for all i know!"
"a thousand dollars!" groaned rawn. "maybe they did! do you know what i paid for what you've got in your hand, laura? twenty-eight thousand dollars! that's all."
impulsively she held out her hand to him. "take them back!" she whispered. "it isn't right."
for one moment he looked at her, and she shrank back from his gaze. but rawn's anger turned to self-pity.
"my own wife won't wear my diamonds," said he. "this, for a man as ambitious as i am, and a man who has done as much as i have!"
she came now and put her arms about his neck, the first time in years; but not in thankfulness. she looked straight into his eyes. "john!" she said. "oh, john!" there was all of woman's anguish in her eyes, in her voice.
