The World Of Chance. William Dean Howells

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СКАЧАТЬ his way through a fresh-water college, who had great latent gifts of peculation, such as might have won him a wide newspaper celebrity as a defaulter later in life, and under more favorable conditions. He finds himself alone in a great city for the first time, and is attracted by the display of the trunk-dealer's cellarway. The opportunity seems favorable to the acquisition of a neat travelling-bag; perhaps he has never owned one, or he wishes to present it to the object of his affections, or to a sick mother; he may have had any respectable motive: but his outlook has been so restricted that he cannot realize the difference between stealing a travelling-bag and stealing, say, a street; though I believe Mr. Sharp only bought Broadway of those who did not own it, and who sold it low; but never mind, it may stand for an illustration. If this young man had stolen a street, he would not have been arrested and handcuffed in that disgraceful way and led off to the dungeon-keep of the Jefferson Market Police Court — I presume that is the nearest prison, though I won't be quite positive — but he would have had to be attacked and exposed a long time in the newspapers; and he would have had counsel, and the case would have been fought from one tribunal to another, till at last he wouldn't have known whether he was a common criminal or a public benefactor. The difficulty in his case is simply an inadequate outlook."

      The philosophic stranger lifted his face and gazed round over Ray's head, but he came to a halt at the same time with the young fellow. "Well, sir," he said, with bland ceremony, "I must bid you good morning. As we go our several ways let us remember the day's lesson, and when we steal, always steal enough."

      He held out his hand, and Ray took it with a pleasure in his discourse which he was wondering how he should express to him. He felt it due himself to say something clever in return, but he could not think of anything. " I'm sure I shall remember your interpretation of it," was all he could get out.

      " Ah, well, don't act upon that without due reflection," the stranger said; and he gave Ray's hand a final and impressive downward shake. " Dear me! " he added, for Ray made no sign of going on. " Are we both stopping here — two spiders at the parlor of the same unsuspecting fly? But perhaps you are merely a buyer, not a writer, of books? After you, sir!"

      The stranger promoted a little polite rivalry that ensued between them; he ended it by passing one hand through the young man's arm, and with the other pressing open the door which they had both halted at, and which bore on either jamb a rounded metallic plate with the sign, "H. C. Chapley & Co., Publishers." Within, he released Ray with a courteous bow, as if willing to leave him now to his own devices. He went off to a distant counter in the wide, low room, and occupied himself with the books on it; Ray advanced and spoke to a clerk, who met him half-way. He asked for Mr. Chapley, and the clerk said he was not down yet — he seldom got down so early; but Mr. Brandreth would be in almost any minute now. When Ray said he had a letter for the firm, and would wait if the clerk pleased, the clerk asked if he would not take a chair in Mr. Brandreth's room.

      Ray could not help thinking the civility shown him was for an imaginable customer rather than a concealed author, but he accepted it all the same, and sat looking out into the salesroom, with its counters of books, and its shelves full of them around its walls, while he waited. Chapley & Co. were of the few old-fashioned publishers who had remained booksellers too, in a day when most publishers have ceased to be so. They were jobbers as well as booksellers; they took orders and made terms for public and private libraries; they had customers all over the country who depended on them for advice and suggestion about forth-coming books, and there were many booksellers in the smaller cities who bought through them. The bookseller in Midland, who united bookselling with a stationery and music business, was one of these, and he had offered Ray a letter to them.

      " If you ever want to get a book published," he said, with a touch on the quick that made the conscious author wince, " they're your men."

      Ray knew their imprint and its relative value better than the Midland bookseller, stationer, and music-dealer; and now, as he sat in the junior partner's neat little den, with the letter of introduction in his hand, it seemed to him such a crazy thing to think of having his book brought out by them that he decided not to say anything about it, but to keep to that character of literary newspaper man which his friend gave him in his rather florid letter. He had leisure enough to make this decision and unmake it several times while he was waiting for Mr. Brandreth to come. It was so early that, with all the delays Ray had forced, it was still only a little after nine, and no one came in for a quarter of an hour. The clerks stood about and chatted together. The bookkeepers, in their high-railed enclosure, were opening their ledgers under the shaded gas-burners that helped out the twilight there. Ray could see his unknown street friend scanning the books on the upper shelf and moving his person from side to side, and letting his cane rise and fall behind him as if he were humming to himself and keeping time to the tune.

      VIII.

      The distant street door opened at last, and a gentleman came in. His entrance caused an indefinite sensation in the clerks, such as we all feel in the presence of the man who pays our wages. At the sound of his step, Ray's street friend turned about from his shelf, but without offering to leave it.

      " Ah, good-morning, good-morning! " he called out; and the other called back, "Ah, good-morning, Mr. Kane! " and pushed on up towards a door near that of Ray's retreat. A clerk stopped him, and after a moment's parley he came in upon the young fellow. He was a man of fifty-five or sixty, with whiskers slightly frosted, and some puckers and wrinkles about his temples and at the corners of his mouth, and a sort of withered bloom in his cheeks, something like the hardy self-preservation of the late-hanging apple that people call a frozen-thaw. He was a thin man, who seemed once to have been stouter; he had a gentle presence and a somewhat careworn look.

      " Mr. Brandreth? " Ray said, rising.

      " No," said the other; " Mr. Chapley."

      "Oh, I beg your pardon," said Ray. "They showed me into Mr. Brandreth's room, and I thought " —

      "It's quite right, quite right," said Mr. Chapley. " Mr. Brandreth will be in almost any moment if you wish to see him personally." Mr. Chapley glanced at the parcel in Ray's hand.

      "Oh no; I have a letter for the firm," and Ray gave it to Mr. Chapley, who read it through and then offered his hand, and said he was glad to meet Mr. Ray. He asked some questions of commonplace friendliness about his correspondent, and he said, with the kind of melancholy which seemed characteristic of him: " So you have come to take a hand in the great game here. Well, if there is anything I can do to serve you, I shall be very glad."

      Ray answered promptly, in pursuance of his plan: "You are very kind, Mr. Chapley. I'm going to write letters to the paper I've been connected with in Midland, and I wish to give them largely a literary character. I shall be obliged to you for any literary news you have."

      Mr. Chapley seemed relieved of a latent dread. A little knot of anxiety between his eyes came untied; he did not yet go to the length of laying off his light overcoat, but he set his hat down on Mr. Brandreth's desk, and he loosed the grip he had kept of his cane.

      " Why, Mr. Brandreth rather looks after that side of the business. He's more in touch with the younger men — with what's going on, in fact, than I am. He can tell you all there is about our own small affairs, and put you in relations with other publishers, if you wish."

      " Thank you — " Ray began.

      " Not at all; it will be to our advantage, I'm sure. We should be glad to do much more for any friend of our old friends " — Mr. Chapley had to refer to the letter-head of the introduction before he could make sure of his old friends' style — " Schmucker & Wills. I hope they are prospering in these uncertain times? "

      Ray СКАЧАТЬ