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e Ambition Bj HENRY RUSSELL MILLER (Ororrisht. 1913. by The SYNOPSIS. Mark Trtiltt encouraged by his sweetheart,- Unity Martin, leaves Bethel, his native town, to seek his fortune. Simon Trultt tells Mark that it long has been his dream to see a steel plant at Bethel and asks the son to return and bulla one If he ever gets rich. Mark applies to Thomas Henley, head ot the Qulnby Iron works, for a Job and Is sent to the con struction gang. His success In that work wins him a place as helper to Roman , Andzrejzski, open-hearth furnaceman. He becomes a boarder in Roman's home and assists Plotr, Roman's son. In his studies. Kazla, an adopted daughter, shows her gratitude In such a manner as to arouse Mark's Interest In her. Heavy work In the Intense heat of the furnace causes Mark to collapse and Kazla cares for him. Later Roman also succumbs and Mark gets his job. Roman resents this . and tells Mark to And another boarding place. Five years elapse during which Mark has advanced to the foremanshlp. while his labor-saving devices have made him Invaluable to the company. In the meantime Kazla has married one Jim Whiting. Mark meets with an accident which dooms hltn to 'be a cripple for life. He returns to Bethel Intending to stay there. He finds Unity about to marry -another man and wins her back. Unity urges him to return to his work In the city. Mark rises rapidly, to wealth and power in the steel business, but the so cial ambitions of his wife make their mar ried life unhappy. The big steel Interests are secretly anxious to get hold of stock In the Iroquois Iron company, supposed to be worthless. Timothy Woodhouse seeks financial assistance from Mark and the latter buys Woodhouse's Iroquois stock at a small figure. Henley forces Qulnby to let Mark have stock In the Qulnby company. Mark finds Plotr mak ing a socialistic speech on the street and the boy shows that he Is still bitter against Mark. Mark finds Kazla, who Is divorced and Is now a hospital nurse, caring for Roman who is near death. Mark Is advised by his physician to stop taking drugs and take a long rest. CHAPTER XVII Continued. ' "It did," ho answered. "But you didn't Invito it. You weren't the sort of girl that needed to invito it you aren't that BOrt of woman now!" Eyes, no less than tongue", were eloquent of his admiration; but she was looking away. "But most women wouldn't be so ready to forgive. They would re member only hurt vanity. I'm at your feet for your charity. I've seen little of it in my life." "Have you looked for It?" "No. Nor had it Nor valued it until now." ' "And now?" "Why now I need it." Somehow tho confession, an uncon sidered remark that, however, had tho ring of sincerity Impulsive sayings are apt to have, seemed to establish even more firmly their intimacy. It nerved him to his -next remark. "Kazia, don't you think you could tell me what has happened to you during " all these years?" "You'll be disappointed," sho began" abruptly, "because there Isn't much and it's commonplace enough. I mar ried Jim "and lived with him a year. Then I left him. Not because ho wasn't kind he was, In his rough way. But tie was shiftless and he drank too much. He had no ambition and I wasn't happy with him, so I left him, though-1 knew it hurt him." "A woman can do that." ho Inter rupted quickly. "Some women do it, you mean. I've always been ashamed, though I never went back to him. Later, I got a di vorce. I "went to live with Uncle Roman, but Piotr, who had hated Jim, made it so unpleasant I had to leave. He hated me, too, I think." "Or loved you, in Piotr's peculiar fashion. But go on." "After a whilo I found work In a tobacco, factory, rolling cigars. Not the kind you smoke, but cheap vile things. It it wasn't nice." t "I've heard of those holes," he mut tered. "You there why ' "I was ono of many," she went on . -"In two years I was sick and in tho hospital, a heavenly place where there was ventilation and nothing to do and good things to eat. I used to pray I'd never get well. . . - ."There Isn't much more. I didn't . have to leave the hospital. One of the internes took an interest. He had Influence and helped me to register as a nurse.- I've a knack for surgical - work, and since I passed my examina tion I've always had cases. For the . rest; I'm not educated. I've merely read & little,' here and there, as I've -:Jw4 tlJ&ev - . "That's all and not what you seemed to expect. Just cruel selfishness in the beginning and a little luck after ward. Which is not the success you worship." - " - "But I see more than that. I read between the Hues. Long afterward, recalling .this scene, he remembered her quick questioning glance, but then he gave It no thought. "I see the cour age to make a fight, the will to rise and being equal to the opportunity -when it came. And I've heard that the really charitable are never so to themselves." -Oh, f Ton will " She broke oft with a shrug. "Let us talk of some- . thing else." When at length he broke the silence. his voice was a caress. "I -wouldn't have yon different. What you've lost Is nothing compared with, what you've gained." She turned her heard slowly toward him. For a long minute their eyes held. Then ' with one accord they looked away. Not the heart of a boy of twenty could have beaten more violently. - III As they drove on, the silence be of Marlt Tniilt - . - Amshoff ' - . "THE MAN HIGHER. TJP. "HIS RISE TO KWB," Etc Bobbs - Merrill Company) came awkward, self-cons cioua. Neither seemed able to break It. Rounding a curve in the tortuous driveway, they met a landau, a beau tifully enameled affair drawn by high stepping horses in elaborate silver mounted harness. In it sat two women. They bowed to him the younger with a pointed smile. Kazla heard him mutter: "I had for gotten!" "Who was she?" "The older? That was Mrs. Thomas Henley, of whom you may have heard." Yes? But I meant the other.'. "That," he answered in a dry con strained voice, "was Mrs. Mark Trultt." After a while: "Ah!" she breathed. She is lovely." "That makes It unanimous," he said shortly. It had ceased to be the pleas antest time he had had in years. A heavy cold cloud had. settled upon their inti macy. Why dream of the possibility of a mighty primitive passion! It was not possible. ... But it was a char acteristic of the man to want most the things farthest away, the things forbidden. "We've gone far enough," she said. True words, however she meant them! 'And it is getting too cold for yon. Let us turn back." . He made no protest. ' He swung - the team around and drove toward the hospital;. at a reck less pace, that he might not have to talk. He had no wish for common place speech with her. From other speech the habit of self-repression saved him. But not wholly. For as they were n earing the hospital, he drew the horses down to a soberer gait. 'When," he asked, "will you drive with me again?" Not again." He had known, even before she spoke, what her answer would be. And he knew so had she given it that it was irrevocable. "I wonder why you came today." 'I'd been thinking of yon. And I was curious. To see what sort of man you had become." . ' They swung into the hospital grounds and "up to the entrance. Over her protest he descended to help her to the ground. He took a queer pleas ure in - the pain the needless little service gave him. , He sought her eyes, "Was It only curiosity, Kazia?" . .-' .' Her answer was not In words. Slowly she mounted the stairs to the doorway, and turning, locked steadily down upon him. Her face was white,. but her eyes were lustrous and un speakably sad. "Kazia" "Good-by." He had had the answer he wanted. But he received it with a heart as heavy as lead. He wanted her as he had desired nothing since life began. And he could only -stand and, help less, see her leave him. CHAPTER XVIII. Sundered Bonds. Dinner, on the rare occasions when the Trultts dined together and alone, was marked by a careful formality that was but a thin disguise for their mutual dislike. At no other time. save by hastily cured accident, were they apt to confront each other. The quarrel of the night of their first in vitation to Henley's house had never been healed. Each had gone a sep arate way, ignoring as far as possible the other's existence. With Unity the dislike had been gen uine. She believed that when her easy husband . had so suddenly and definitely put an end to her suprem acy, she had been robbed of a right that she, a woman and therefore. a superior finer being, should enjoy.' Fear, of him and' of what the man she now perceived him to be might do if unduly provoked, kept dislike alive and hot. With him it had been rather con tempt for her airs and vanities, for the uselessness to which, even in a woman, he could not become recon ciled. . But on this night it was both contempt and a rising bitter resent ment that heightened the emotional tumult. She chose this hour to lay aside the cold,- somewhat theatric hauteur It was her wont to assume before him. In Jts stead she donned an air of tri umph, of smiling aggressiveness that he was quick to connect with their meeting in the park. She criticized the knot of his necktie. Several times she contradicted him wantonly. Finally he rose abruptly and left the room. Unity, too, rose and, following, over took htm in the ftrelit drawing room. "You are- rude. I wish - to apeak with you." - "I'm going up to my study." "You're supposed to have given up work. I believe." "I wish to be alone." J "Now. perhaps.- You. weren't alone this afternoon in the park." - "I didn't want to be then. What is that to you?" "A wife has some right to consider ation, I think." "A wife yea.' You'll hardly claim , the title," "Do you deny it to mf ,, "A wife has something to give her husband. But you What la it you have to say? By your manner I Judge you think, it important. "It is. You're, too 111 to work, but it seems not too ill to go driving in the park with striking looking women." - With an effort he kept his voice cold. "And you object, is that it r "I do." "Very well. You've registered your protest. Is that all?" "No, it is not." She leaned sharply forward, forgetting to pose and to smile, tiie delicate prettiness of face eclipsed by a cloud of vixenish tem per. . "It is not. I have some self respect and regard for our position, if you haven't. Do you suppose a husband means nothing to me but a name?" He glanced hesitatingly toward the door, meditating retreat. - Then, with a grim tightening of his lips, he re turned his gaze to her. "You really want an answer? Then, I had supposed a husband means to you a name and a check book. With Inexhaustible leaves." ' . "So you begrudge me the money I spend! You grow " "Your expense account, fully met, is the best answer to that, I think." "But I want more than money. Do you think a little money a little pal try money can repay me for your neglect and selfishness V So you scorn money? It's news to me. ' But I think you've nothing to complain of." Nothing!" she cried. "Is it noth ing that I have to go everywhere alone, always having to listen to whispers behind my back of my husband's fool ish attempts to play the man about town? You see, you couldn't keep your escapade of last year from me. Or - that you've turned the old set against me by cheating poor Timothy Woodhouse out of his last property?" He winced and flushed painfully at that. She saw and believed she had pierced his armor. She rose again, that she might deliver her final thrust most effectively. Do you call it nothing that you. who have no time or thought to spare your wife, brazenly flaunt your women in public, on the streets and in the parks, for all the city to see and gos sip about?" He was standing rigid, both hands gripping his cane, his gaze fixed un waveringly on her. The tightened lips had become the merest line. If you refer to Mrs. Whiting," he began at last steadily, "you will please use more respectful terms." . You reprove me on her account! This," she cried tragically, "this is too much. I suppose this Mrs. Whiting if that's her name is your mistress perhaps I should say, your latest mis tress." "Why, you" The storm burst, choking back speech, but finding an outlet through his eyes. He reached out swiftly and caught her hand in a cruel clutch, crushing the Boft useless member un til her rings bit Into the flesh and she cried out in pain. Let me go," she gasped. "You're hurting me." He released her and sank back Into a chair. I think we've come to the end of our chapter. Unity. But 111 give you us one more chance." "You'd think I were a criminal!" "Wo both are; but let that go. Here tofore you've made our life. And you've failed. Since our first month we've never been really happy, at least in each other. Now let me choose. Let's go away somewhere " . To New York or abroad?" 'Not to . New York or abroad. To Bethel or some place where we can 'Even You Couldn't Be So Brutal " live a quiet, decent, natural life. Let us begin- over again . and try to re cover what we've lost or rather what we never, had." - i . "You are absurd!" - - "Is it absurd for a man to ask his wife you've claimed the title to share the life he wants and needs?" "You forget to consider what I would have from ..such an arrangement., . "You -would have me." ' She answered with a contemptuous shrugs "I will do nothing so silly. You ask too much." - "Ah! You're franker than I thought you could be. I'm glad you're frank." He rose, looking curiously down at her. "If you look back, youll find I've never asked you anything until now. I've been content to take at least, I've taken only what it suited your whims to give me. And you've given exactly nothing." "And what," she flung back, "have .you given me?" "From another woman that might be a crushing retort. I've given you very little. But, as It happens, it's been all you wanted. You wouldn't take, you never wanted, the only worth while thing I had to give." He paused ft gain, his manner hardening. "How ever, all that is ended. I go away to morrow morning. I don't think I shall ever see you again." Even then he might have relented. if Bhe had given him excuse. But she gave him no excuse. .-" "You're asking for a divorce?" - "Yes." . "I suppose," she sneered, "you want to marry that woman, your mistress." He held himself under rigid self- control. - "She isn't my - mistress, though I love her. She was the girl I gave up years ago out of loyalty to you." "... There was nothing lovely about Unity Trultt Just then. And now you want to renew the broken romance. Very pretty! But,' she laughed in vindictive pleasure in her fancied ability to thwart his de sire, "you shan't have her. I don't choose to be a divorced woman. And I know you can't get a divorce without my consent." "I think you will consent," he said quietly. "I will not. I don't choose " "The choice is with you, of course. But you must understand it. You're through with me in any case. But if you consent to the divorce, I'll make a settlement that will satisfy you. If not, I will make only the allowance I think you've earned." She went pale at that, the one threat which could reach her. "Why," she gasped, "you couldn't do that. Even you couldn't be so brutal " "Choose." "But you couldn't. You-I must have time to think " "You must choose now." ' He was inflexible. ... - She sat transfixed, beginning to comprehend the reality of his purpose. Her confidence suddenly melted. Fear shone in her eyes. She rose, and with a piteous pleading gesture, too fright ened to be conscious of her hypocrisy. she went to him. "Why, Mark Mark, dear! You can't mean that. You couldn't cast me off like this. Why, we're husband . and wife and I know I haven't been fair to you, but I can't let you go. Let me make up this last year to you. Let us go away, as you say, and begin over. We can be happy " The stammering' incoherent cry halted, silenced by the unrelenting quality of his steady eyes. The out stretched hands fell limply to her sides. She shrank back a step from him. - "I believe you do mean it." "I'm waiting for your choice." After a little It came, gaspingly. "I have no choice. I I must con sent." - He turned away and without another word or glance for her, limped heavily out of the room.. '"- : CHAPTER XIX. Bond Though Free. The Truitt divorce sensation had reached and passed its height. - One day, when the decree was scarcely two weeks old, a man alighted from an incoming express train. He did not look like a roue or the villain of a famous scandal; he himself did not know that he had been heralded In such a role. His doctor would hardly have recognized him. He was still thin and the cane had not been dis carded, but he was clear-eyed and healthily bronzed and the limp was far less noticeable than at any time since the accident. Six , months he had spent in the northern wilderness, living in the open. Bleeping under the stars, with no com pany but his own thoughts and a taci turn half-breed Indian. But they had not been lonely months, nor did he think them wasted. 'For they had brought him to what he was pleased to call a new birth. " The first Hews of the Trultts sep aration had evoked scant interest from the gossips. But as the time set for the trial approached it began, to be whispered about that more than the usual stale story of domestic disagree ment lay behind the affair. The whis per became an audible chorus. : It was a dull season in a year when no impor tant election Impended, there was a dearth of spicy news; the newspapers avidly seized this chance to give flavor to their columns. From some source, which might have been identified as Unity's lawyer, reporters were fur nished material for innumerable sug gestive rumors. Vague but deftly worded innuendoes of Truitt's cruel treatment of his wife appeared, of his sly profligacy, of the one strikingly handsome woman who had captivated his fancy and whom it was supposed he would marry after the divorce. From Truitt. who" had completely dis appeared, came no denial. His flight and silence were taken as an admis sion of guilt. . . - - - At the trial, to be sure, the testi mony was. a distinct disappointment. It proved merely commonplace deser tion and touched but lightly on only one short-lived period of dissipation during which Truitt, at certain mid night suppers, had shared with other men the more or less interesting com pany of sundry nameless women.. The public, deprived of the .scandal: for which Its month had been watering, decided - that Mrs. Truitt had . been overly magnanimous1 in thus sparing her husband, and let its heated imag ination supply the lacking details. Truitt entered no defense and a decree was quickly handed down. Mrs. Truitt at once sailed for Europe. . He hailed a cab and gave the name of a club that to cabby brought vis Ions of a liberal tip. In a few minutes the destination was' reached and the passenger descended to the pavement At that moment a woman, whom he recognized as' one of Unity's familiars, approached. He lifted his hat and bowed. She looked squarely at him and passed on without greeting. Red surged into his cheeks. "Cut!" -he muttered. "I suppose Unity's given her version of our smash-up. Unity would." He paid his fare and entered the portals from which no rich man had ever been excluded. At the desk a wen dressed and usually very polite young clerk so far forgot himself as to look his amazement. - ' . "Mr. Trultt! I supposed you were out of town. I thought " He stopped in confusion, remembering that it was no part of his business to think. Mark looked hard at him. "You thought?" - "I -thought you were out of town," stammered the clerk. "I was. - And now I'm back," Mark answered dryly. "So I think Til ar range for rooms here indefinitely." : Nor was this all of the city's greet ing to the returned wanderer. The rooms arranged for, he turned away "Are You Going to Add to the Scandal by Marrying That Woman?" from the desk, to come face to face with a man whom he had used to like and who, he had reason to believe, had not been without Interest in him. "Why, hello. Baker!" Mark held out a friendly hand, with a genial smile that was part of his new resolve, Baker took the hand, but released it quickly. "Ah! How are you, Truitt?' "Bully. Just back from a long stay In the woods. Dine here" with me to night, won't you?" "Thanks, no. I'm probably not din ing here. Excuse me. Some men I must see " Baker broke hastily away, passed a few words. with a nearby group and went out. The ruse was obvious. Mark, feeling as though he had re ceived a blow in the face, stared after the retreating figure. The genial smile faded. Then he went to the rooms he had engaged. Passing the group that had helped out Baker's ruse, he was conscious of their furtive curious glances. Arrived in his rooms, his first act was to have back newspaper files sent up to him. For two hours he read how, while he was winning back health in the wilderness and planning a life of amity with his fellows, his name had been bandied about on the tongues of slander and gossip. As he read In the light of what had Just happened the amazing accumulation of suggested filth, only here and there brushing the outer edges of fact, utter bewilder ment filled him. Shirley's brief com munication, making mention of "some talk," received at the edge of the wil derness, had not prepared him for this. - ' . "It's all a pack of dirty lies," he cried. "How could these men, who've seen me go in and out every day, be lieve it? What rotters they must be themselves to be able to believe it! By God! ril " He stopped, with a sudden feeling of dismay. "Why why, I can do nothing." . ; - He was helpless. "Then I am not free! She has put a mark on mo that a lifetime can't rub out. ..." Must we pay forever for our mistakes? . . .". : - ; - - One evening, when his residence at the club had continued about three weeks, the affair came to a climax. He was entering the grill for dinner. At the sound of his name from a nearby group of diners, he halted in voluntarily. That's all well enough." one of the diners was saying.. "A club's a club and, of course, we have to allow a certain latitude. Still, when It be comes the refuge for a man so no torious 'we couldn't have him in our homes ' The speaker was checked by a warning kick. , . Mark, sweeping the group with eyes from which the mask had momentarily fallen, met Baker's embarrassed gaze. With a contemptuous smile, he passed on to his own table and ordered a dinner which he made such sbsw of eating as inward rage and pain al lowed. His coffee and cigar had Just been brought when Baker crossed the room and stood by his table. . "Truitt " he began uncertainly. "Well?" Mark's upward glance was not welcoming. -. '"May I sit down for a minute?" ."Aren't you afraid of catching the plague?"- . "I'm more afraid of being kicked for my impertinence." "I understand," said Mark grimly, "I'm a pretty sough customer, but I don't commit assaults in public Sit down.", -. Baker sat down, looking' earnestly across the table at Mark. "Look here, Truitt- There are things on both sides of your fence I lon't approve. But I particularly disapprove this Pharisee) business. I felt like a cad when you caught us over there. I want to apol ogise for my part in it, though it wasn't a speaking part. "All right." Mark lighted his cigar. "You've done your duty." - " "But this is a little more than duty -" Baker hesitated. . "Oh. hang It all! Some things become so painful only plain speech serves. You, don't t&' need to be told of the stories going " around. Lately it's occurred to me that you've been letting ns take them at face, without trying to contradict them. That's the thing Td do myself If I were in the right. But it can be carried to extremes. Have I your per mission to say that the stories are let us say, overdrawn?" "You have not. Life's too short to enter Into a contest with rumor." "But your silence " "Is my affair," Mark answered gruff ly, rising. "You may say to your meticulous friend that I'm about to resign from this club." Baker, . too, rose, looking , at Mark keenly. "Oh, come, Trultt," he began, that's " But Mark cut him short. "At least It will save him and his sort the ne cessity of setting a precedent that would decimate the club. Good eve ntng." - Henley, who had been out of the city when Mark returned, came back soon after the latter took up his resi dence in the hotel. Mark approached him with the inward shrinking that preceded every new meeting Just then. . "You've picked up physically," Hen ley remarked after a cool handshake. "Six months in the woods accounts for that." Td think. If It was doing you so much good, you'd have stayed.' "In other words?" "In other words," said Henley, "why did you come back now?" Mark laughed hollowly. "I didn't know I'd become a notorious char acter." ' - "How, in heaven's name," Henley exclaimed, "did you let yourself get caught In a divorce court scandal? I'd have thought that you, of all men. if you had to play the fool, would at least have used finesse." So even Henley believed the rumors I "At any rate, no one but myself is hurt." , ' "- - ' "That's not true. Every one who had anything to do with you Is more or lesB hurt. The company is reflected on. I," Henley concluded with an air that declared the. Indictment to be complete and unanswerable, "I am be smirched, because we're known to be in so many things together." "That," Mark returned coldly, "can be easily cured. We can wind up our affairs. And I'm ready to resign from the company." "You can't cure ' the fact that we have been together. And you can't resign. Are you aping to add to the scandal by marrying that woman?" , "What woman?" Mark's voice Was cool -and steady. " - '-' "The one that turned your head and your, wife was smart enough to dis cover." "You've heard names, then?" - "No," growled Henley. "She's as mysterious as the rest of your di does." . ; "As mythical, you mean," Mark an swered in a voice-that did not betray his relief. "There was no woman." "What! You mean these stories aren't true? . "You'd seen me almost every day for. years. You might have guessed that." "But last year those women " "An experiment in idiocy nothing worse. There were no women, except at arm's length." " Henley surveyed him keenly. "Then how did these stories get out? But you needn't answer. - I can guess. A woman is never clever except when she's up to mischief. - "However," he went on, "this puts a different face on the matter. . As you say, I. might have guessed the truth." This, for Henley, was abject apology. ' Mark Bhook his head. "My resigna tion holds Just the same." "Are you going to 'let a little talk drive you out?" Henley demanded. "It isn't that. I had decided before I knew of it. I'm tired of the scramble. I want peace." Mark laughed : dis cordantly. . "And I'm getting it with a vengeance." v - i "As much as youll ever .get It," Henley returned promptly. "I know what you want. Who doesn't? Some time or other every man wants, or thinks he wants, peace. And if we had it, we'd want to die. I told you once before things are. Accept them, fit yourself to them, forget theories that lead nowhere. Pick out the thing you want most and fight until you get It. Then fight to keep it. Besides, you aren't a misfit. Tho trouble with you is, your strength Is your greatest weakness you've too much imagina tion. , And you're not a well man yet. Go back to your woods until you're cured. Then youll feel the itch to get Into the scramble again and break a few heads." But Henley the philosopher had done. . He 'resumed his usual crisp manner.. - - . "Moreover, you can't resign. The) new agreement with the men comes up next year and the Qulnby company faces the fight of Jts existence. We'll need every good head we've got. "And If that Isn't enough, your wVdrawal would leave me to fight Qulnby alone. And I made you, dont forget that. You've got what you wanted out of the company and me. You can't drop out easily now and shirk the respon sibilities." "You say, can't r "I say. cant. You've got a sense of obligation, havent your "If I have," said Mark grimly, nt" the last proof that I am a misfit- . (TO BE CONTXSUEDJ '