children of the whirlwind- 第1部分

Children　of　the　Whirlwind

by　Leroy　Scott






CHAPTER　I


It　was　an　uninspiring　bit　of　street：　narrow；　paved　with　cobble；　hot　and　noisy　in　summer；　reeking　with　unwholesome　mud　during　the　drizzling　and　snow…slimed　months　of　winter。　It　looked　anything　this　May　after　noon　except　a　starting…place　for　drama。　But；　then；　the　great　dramas　of　life　often　avoid　the　splendid　estates　and　trappings　with　which　conventional　romance　would　equip　them；　and　have　their　beginnings　in　unlikeliest　environment；　and　thence　sweep　on　to　a　noble；　consuming　tragedy；　or　to　a　glorious　unfolding　of　souls。　Life　is　a　composite　of　contradictionsa　puzzle　to　the　wisest　of　us：　the　lily　lifting　its　graceful　purity　aloft　may　have　its　roots　in　a　dunghill。　Samson's　dead　lion　putrefying　by　a　roadside　is　ever　and　again　being　found　to　be　a　storehouse　of　wild　honey。　We　are　too　accustomed　to　the　ordinary　and　the　obvious　to　consider　that　beauty　or　worth　may；　after　bitter　travail；　grow　out　of　that　which　is　ugly　and　unpromising。

Thus　no　one　who　looked　on　Maggie　Carlisle　and　Larry　Brainard　at　their　beginnings；　had　even　a　guess　what　manner　of　persons　were　to　develop　from　them　or　what　their　stories　were　to　be。

The　houses　on　the　bit　of　street　were　all　three…storied　and　all　of　a　uniform；　dingy；　scaling　redness。　The　house　of　the　Duchess；　on　the　left　side　as　you　came　down　the　street　toward　the　little　Square　which　squatted　beside　the　East　River；　differed　from　the　others　only　in　that　three　balls　of　tarnished　gilt　swung　before　it　and　unredeemed　pledges　emanated　a　weakly　lure　from　behind　its　dirt…streaked　windows；　and　also　in　that　the　personality　of　the　Duchess　gave　the　house　something　of　a　character　of　its　own。

The　street　did　business　with　her　when　pressed　for　funds；　but　it　knew　little　definite　about　the　Duchess　except　that　she　was　shriveled　and　bent　and　almost　wordless　and　was　seemingly　without　emotions。　But　of　course　there　were　rumors。　She　was　so　old；　and　had　been　so　long　in　the　drab　little　street；　that　she　was　as　much　a　legend　as　a　real　person。　No　one　knew　exactly　how　she　had　come　by　the　name　of　〃Duchess。〃　There　were　misty；　unsupported　stories　that　long；　long　ago　she　had　been　a　shapely　and　royal　figure　in　colored　fleshings；　and　that　her　title　had　been　given　her　in　those　her　ruling　days。　Also　there　was　a　vague　story　that　she　had　come　by　the　name　through　an　old　liking　for　the　romances　of　that　writer　who　put　forth　her；　or　his；　or　their；　prolific　extravagances　under　the　exalted　pseudonym　of　〃The　Duchess。〃　Also　there　was　a　rumor　that　the　title　came　from　a　former　alleged　habit　of　the　Duchess　of　carrying　beneath　her　shapeless　dress　a　hoard　of　jewels　worthy　to　be　a　duchy's　heirlooms。　But　all　these　were　just　storiesno　more。　Down　in　this　quarter　of　New　York　nicknames　come　easily；　and　once　applied　they　adhere　to　the　end。

Some　believed　that　she　was　now　the　mere　ashes　of　a　woman；　in　whom　lived　only　the　last　flickering　spark。　And　some　believed　that　beneath　that　drab　and　spent　appearance　there　smouldered　a　great　fire；　which　might　blaze　forth　upon　some　occasion。　But　no　one　knew。　As　she　was　now；　so　she　had　always　been　even　in　the　memory　of　people　considered　old　in　the　neighborhood。

Beside　the　fact　that　she　ran　a　pawnshop；　which　was　reputed　to　be　also　a　fence；　there　were　only　two　or　three　other　facts　that　were　known　to　her　neighbors。　One　was　that　in　the　far　past　there　had　been　a　daughter；　and　that　while　still　a　very　young　girl　this　daughter　had　disappeared。　It　was　rumored　that　the　Duchess　had　placed　the　daughter　in　a　convent　and　that　later　tire　girl　had　married；　but　the　daughter　had　never　appeared　again　in　the　quarter。　Another　fact　was　that　there　was　a　grandson；　a　handsome　young　devil；　who　had　come　down　occasionally　to　visit　his　grandmother；　until　he　began　his　involuntary　sojourn　at　Sing　Sing。　Another　factthis　one　the　best　known　of　allwas　that　two　or　three　years　before　an　impudent；　willful　young　girl　named　Maggie　Carlisle　had　come　to　live　with　her。

It　was　rather　a　meager　history。　People　wondered　and　talked　of　mystery。　But　perhaps　the　only　mystery　arose　from　the　fact　that　the　Duchess　was　the　kind　of　woman　who　never　volunteered　information　about　her　affairs；　and　the　kind　even　the　boldly　curious　hesitate　to　question。。。

And　down　here　it　was；　in　this　unlovely　street；　in　the　Duchess's　unlovely　house；　that　the　drama　of　Maggie　Carlisle　and　Larry　Brainard　began　its　unpromising　and　stormy　career：　for；　though　they　had　thought　of　it　little；　their　forebears　had　been　sowers　of　the　wind；　they　themselves　had　sown　some　of　that　careless　seed　and　were　to　sow　yet　moreand　there　was　to　be　the　reaping　of　that　seed's　wild　crop。




CHAPTER　II


When　Maggie　entered　the　studio　on　the　Duchess's　third　floor；　the　big；　red…haired；　unkempt　painter　roared　his　rebukes　at　her。　She　stiffened；　and　in　the　resentment　of　her　proud　youth　did　not　even　offer　an　explanation。　Nodding　to　her　father　and　Barney　Palmer；　she　silently　crossed　to　the　window　and　stood　sullenly　gazing　over　the　single　mongrel　tree　before　the　house　and　down　the　narrow　street　and　across　the　little　Square；　at　the　swirling　black　tide　which　raced　through　East　River。　That　painter　was　a　beast！　Yes；　and　a　fool！

But　quickly　the　painter　was　forgotten；　and　once　more　her　mind　reverted　to　Larryat　last　Larry　was　coming　back！only　to　have　the　painter；　after　a　minute；　interrupt　her　excited　imagination　with：

〃What's　the　matter　with　your　tongue；　Maggie？　Generally　you　stab　back　with　it　quick　enough。〃

She　turned；　still　sulky　and　silent；　and　gazed　with　cynical　superiority　at　the　easel。　〃Nuts〃it　was　Barney　Palmer　who　had　thus　lightly　rechristened　the　painter　when　he　had　set　up　his　studio　in　the　attic　above　the　pawnshop　six　months　beforeNuts　was　transferring　the　seamy；　cunning　face　of　her　father；　〃Old　Jimmie〃　Carlisle；　to　the　canvas　with　swift；　unhesitating　strokes。

〃For　the　lova　Christ　and　the　twelve　apostles；　including　that　piker　Judas；〃　woefully　intoned　Old　Jimmie　from　the　model's　chair；　〃lemme　get　down　off　this　platform！〃

〃Move　and　I'll　wipe　my　palette　off　on　that　Mardi　Gras　vest　of　yours！〃　grunted　the　big　painter　autocratically　through　his　mouthful　of　brushes。

〃O　Godand　I　got　a　cramp　in　my　back；　and　my　neck's　gone　to　sleep！〃　groaned　Old　Jimmie；　leaning　forward　on　his　cane。　〃Daughter；　dear〃　plaintively　to　Maggie〃what　is　the　crazy　gentleman　doing　to　me？〃

〃It's　an　awful　smear；　father。〃　Maggie　spoke　slightingly；　but　with　a　tone　of　doubt。　It　was　not　the　sort　of　picture　that　eighteen　has　been　taught　to　likeyet　the　picture　did　possess　an　intangible　something　that　provoked　doubt　as　to　its　quality。　〃You　sure　do　look　one　old　burglar！〃

〃Not　a　cheap　burglar？〃hopefully。

〃Naw！〃　exploded　the　man　at　the　easel　in　his　big　voice；　first　taking　the　brushes　from　his　mouth。　〃You're　a　swell…looking　old　pirate！ready　to　loot　the　sub…treasury　and　then　scuttle　the　old　craft　with　all　hands　on　board！　A　breathing；　speaking；　robbing　likeness！〃

〃Maggie's　right；　and　Nuts's　right；〃　put　in　Barney　Palmer。　〃It's　sure　a　rotten　picture；　and　then　again　it　sure　looks　like　you；　Jimmie。〃

The　smartly　dressed　BarneyBarney　could　not　keep　away　from　Broadway　tailors　and　haberdashers　with　their　extravagant　designs　and　color　schemesdismissed　the　insignificant　matter　of　the　portrait；　and　resumed　the　really　important　matter　which　had　brought　him　to　her。

〃Are　you　certain；　Maggie；　that　the　Duchess　hasn't　heard　from　Larry？〃

〃If　she　has；　she　hasn't　mentioned　it。　But　why　don't　you　ask　her　yourself？〃

〃I　did；　but　she　wouldn't　say　a　thing。　You　can't　get　a　word　out　of　the　Duchess　with　a　jimmy；　unless　she　wants　to　talkand　she　never　wants　to　talk。〃　He　turned　his　sharp；　narrowly　set　eyes　upon　the　lean　old　man。　〃It's　got　me　guessing；　Jimmie。　Larry　was　due　out　of　Sing　Sing　yesterday；　and　we　haven't　had　a　peep　from　him；　and　though　she　won't　talk　I'm　sure　he　hasn't　been　here　to　see　his　grandmother。〃

〃Sure　is　funny；〃　agreed　Old　Jimmie。　〃But　mebbe　Larry　has　broke　straight　into　a　fresh　game　and　is　playing　a　lone　hand。　He's　a　quick　worker；　Larry　isand　he's　got　nerve。〃

〃Well；　whatever's　keeping　him　we're　tied　up　till　Larry　comes。〃　Barney　turned　back　to　Maggie。　〃I　say；　sister；　how　about　robing　yourself　in　your　raiment　of　joy　and　coming　with　yours　truly　to　a　palace　of　jazz；　there　to　dine　and　show　the　populace　what　real　dancing　is？〃

〃Can't；　Barney。　Mr。　Hunt〃the　name　given　the　painter　at　his　original　christening〃asked　the　Duchess　and　me　to　have　dinner　up　here。　He's　to　cook　it　himself。〃

〃For　your　sake　I　hope　he　cooks　better　than　he　paints。〃　And　sliding　down　in　his　chair　until　he　rested　upon　a　more　comfortable　vertebra；　the　elegant　Barney　lit　a　monogrammed　cigarette；　and　with　idle　patience　swung　his　bamboo　stick。

〃You're　half　an　hour　late；　Maggie；〃　Hunt　began　at　her　again　in　his　rumbling　voice。　〃Can't　stand　for　such　a　waste　of　my　time！〃

〃How　about　my　time？〃　retorted　Maggie；　who　indeed　had　a　grievance。　〃I　was　supposed　to　have　the　day　off；　but　instead　I　had　to　carry　that　tray　of　cigarettes　around　till　the　last　person　in　the　Ritzmore　had　finished　lunch。　Anyhow；〃　she　added；　〃I　don't　see　that　your　time's　worth　so　much　when　you　spend　it　on　such　painty　messes　as　these。〃

〃It's　not　up　to　you　to　tell　me　what　my　time's　worth！〃　retorted　Hunt。　〃I　pay　youthat's　enough　for　you！。。。　B