The fall of edward barnard

For a fortnight on the boat that brought him from Tahiti to San Francisco Bateman Hunter had been thinking of the story he had to tell, but in a few hours now he would be in Chicago and his conscience was not at ease. He was not sure that he had done all that was possible. A pang seized him when he remembered that he must deal such a bitter blow to Isabel and anger flamed up in his heart when he thought of Edward Barnard.

But at last the train arrived in Chicago and he rejoiced when he saw the long streets of grey houses. He was at home. And he was glad that he had been born in the most important city in the United States.

His father had come to meet him. His car was waiting for them.

As soon as Bateman was alone in his room he asked for a number on the telephone. His heart leaped when he heard the voice that answered him.

“Unless you have anything better to do perhaps you will dine with us? I suppose that you are full of news…Good bye.”

Isabel rang off.

Besides himself and Isabel no one was present at dinner but her father and mother. When they went out of the dining-room Isabel said to her mother: “I am going to take Bateman to my room. We have various things to talk about.”

They sat down in front of the fire.

“Now, what have you to say to me?” she asked.

“I hardly know where to begin.”

“Is Edward Barnard coming back?”

“No.”

There was a long silence before Bateman spoke again and with each of them it was filled with many thoughts.

It had all begun long ago when he and Barnard, still students at college, had met Isabel at the tea-party given to introduce her to society. Both of them fell desperately in love with her, but Bateman saw quickly that she had eyes only for Edward, and, devoted to his friend, he resigned himself to the role of confidant. He took care never by a hint to disclose his own feelings. In six months Edward and Isabel were engaged. But they were very young and Isabel’s father decided that they shouldn’t marry at least till Edward graduated. They had to wait a year. Then an accident happened. A great bank failed, there was a panic on the exchange, and Barnard’s father found himself a ruined man. He told his wife he was penniless and shot himself.

A week later, Edward Barnard went to Isabel and asked her to release him. Her only answer was to throw her arms round his neck and burst into tears.

“How can I ask you to marry me? Your father would never let you do it. I haven’t a cent.”

“What do I care? I love you.”

He told her his plans. He had to earn money at once, and George Braunschmidt, an old friend of his family, had offered to take him into his own business. He was a South Sea merchant and he had agencies in many islands of the Pacific. He had suggested that Edward should go to Tahiti for a year or two, where he could learn the details of that trade, and at the end of that time he promised the young man a position in Chicago. It was a wonderful opportunity and Isabel was once more all smiles.

Edward spent his last evening with Isabel. It was after dinner that Mr. Longstaffe took him into the smoking-room, and Edward saw that his host was embarrassed.

“I guess you have heard of Arnold Jackson,” he said. “Did you know he was Mrs. Longstaffe’s brother?”

“Yes, I knew that.”

“He left the country as soon as he was able to. We understand he lives in Tahiti. My advice to you is to keep away from him, but if you do hear anything about him, Mrs. Longstaffe and I will be very glad if you let us know.”

“Sure.”

Arnold Jackson was the black sheep of the family. He had been a wealthy banker, a man respected by all, but one day he was arrested on a charge of fraud and sent to prison for seven years.

Edward went to Tahiti.

At first Edward’s letters to Isabel were full of his desire to get back to Chicago, but by and by he seemed to settle down, and Isabel was very happy to observe his growing enthusiasm to introduce American methods into that forgotten corner of the world.

The second year passed. And then it began to seem a little strange that Edward did not speak of coming back. He wrote as though he were settled definitely in Tahiti. Isabel was surprised. She was not quite sure that the Edward who wrote to her now was the same Edward she had known. One afternoon, when she was driving with Bateman, he said to her:

“Did Edward tell you when he was coming back?”

“No, he didn’t mention it. Did he tell you anything about it?”

A few days later, meeting Bateman again, Isabel noticed that something worried him.

“The fact is,” he said at last, “I have heard in a roundabout way that Edward is no longer working for Braunschmidt and Co. He left them nearly a year ago. He was fired.”

They were silent for a while, and then he saw that Isabel was crying.

Another letter came from Edward for each of them, and still he made no mention of his return.

Then Bateman had an idea. The firm, founded by his father, in which he was now a partner, was planning to establish an agency in Honolulu, and Bateman proposed that he himself should go to Hawaii instead of the manager. He could return by Tahiti, and he could see Edward.

“There is some mystery and I am going to clear it up. That’s the only way to do it.”

“Oh, Bateman, how can you be so good and kind?” Isabel exclaimed. Of course she knew he loved her. It touched her. She felt very tenderly towards him.