IV

“I came back to New York, and went to Mr. Gilday.

“‘Will he marry her?’ he said at once.

“‘He will marry her,’ I said.  ’As for her, I want you to say; for I’ll not write to her myself, since she wouldn’t answer me.  Say when she’s the wife of Paul Bargee I’ll bring the child to her myself, and she’s to see me; for I have a word to say to her then,’ I said, and I laid my fist down on the table.  ‘Until then the child stays with me.’

“They’ve said hard things of Mr. Joseph Gilday, and I know it; but I know all that he did for me.  For he didn’t turn it over to a clerk; but he took hold himself and saw it through as I had said.  And when the divorce was given he called me down and told me that Fanny Montrose was a free woman and no blame to her in the sight of the law.

“Then I said:  ’It is well.  Now write to Paul Bargee that his week has begun.  Until then I keep the child, law or no law.’  Then I rose and said:  ’I thank you, Mr. Gilday.  You’ve been very kind, and I’d like to pay you what I owe you.’

“He sat there a moment and chewed on his mustache, and he said:  ’You don’t owe me a cent.’

“’It wasn’t charity I came to you for, and I can pay for what I get, Mr. Gilday,’ I said.  ‘Will you give me your regular bill?’ I said.

“And he said at last:  ‘I will.’

“In the middle of the week Paul Bargee’s mother came to me and went down on her knees and begged for her son, and I said to her:  ’Why should there be one law for him and one law for the likes of me.  He’s taken my wife; but he sha’n’t put her to shame, ma’am, and he sha’n’t cast a cloud on the life of my child!’

“Then she stopped arguing, and caught my hands and cried:  ’But you won’t kill him, you won’t kill my son, if he don’t?’

“’As sure as Saturday comes, ma’am, and he hasn’t made Fanny Montrose a good woman,’ I said, ‘I’m going to kill Paul Bargee wherever he stands.’

“And Friday morning Mr. Gilday called me down to his office and told me that Paul Bargee had done as I said he should do.  And I pressed his hand and said nothing, and he let me sit awhile in his office.

“And after awhile I rose up and said:  ’Then I must take the child to her, as I promised, to-night.’

“He walked with me from the office and said:  ’Go home to your little girl.  I’ll see to the tickets, and will come for you at nine o’clock.’

“And at nine o’clock he came in his big carriage, and took me and the child to the station and said:  ’Telegraph me when you’re leaving to-morrow.’

“And I said:  ‘I will.’

“Then I went into the car with my little girl asleep in my arms and sat down in the seat, and the porter came and said: 

“‘Can I make up your berths?’

“And I looked at the child and shook my head.  So I held her all night and she slept on my shoulder, while I looked from her out into the darkness, and from the darkness back to her again.  And the porter kept passing and passing and staring at me and the child.