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i
Democracy
Against Domination
K. Sabeel Rahman
1
iv
1
Oxford University Press is a department of the University of Oxford. It furthers
the University’s objective of excellence in research, scholarship, and education
by publishing worldwide. Oxford is a registered trade mark of Oxford University
Press in the UK and certain other countries.
9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Printed by Sheridan Books, Inc., United States of America
v
CON T E N T S
Preface ix
Acknowledgments xiii
Notes 181
Bibliography 211
Index 227
viii
ix
P R E FACE
On January 3, 2008, Barack Obama won the Iowa caucus, kicking off what
would become one of the most remarkable and surprising primary seasons
in American politics. As he took the stage late that night to thank his sup-
porters, he set aside the symbolism of his role as an African-American can-
didate with a multi-racial and global background. “I know you didn’t do this
for me,” he told his supporters. “You did this because you believed in the
most American ideas—that in the face of impossible odds, people who love
this country can change it.” His campaign slogan, “HOPE,” was to Obama,
not a plea for blind faith but rather a call to action:
Hope is what led a band of colonists to rise up against an empire. What led the great-
est of generations to free a continent and heal a nation. What led young women and
young men to sit at lunch counters and brave fire hoses and march through Selma and
Montgomery for freedom’s cause… . Hope is the bedrock of this nation. The belief that
our destiny will not be written for us, but by us, by all those men and women who are
not content to settle for the world as it is, who have the courage to remake the world as it
should be… . [the belief that] brick by brick, block by block, callused hand by callused
hand, … ordinary people can do extraordinary things.”
( x ) Preface
as esoteric, the world of complex financial securities and high finance sud-
denly became the central battleground for efforts to rethink American
political economy. The bailouts of Wall Street giants underscored how, far
from being a pure domain of private and self-correcting activity, finance
is deeply embedded in, and constituted by, politics. The financial system
seemed very much part of the larger problems in an increasingly unequal
economy. This juxtaposition of economic crisis with the Obama campaign
seemed to set the stage for a potentially transformational administration,
one that might redress long-brewing anxieties about economic opportu-
nity, inequality, and democratic accountability.
If the Obama administration in the following years fell short of such a
large-scale economic transformation, it was not for want of effort. Historians
will spend years unpacking the political battles of the Obama era, from the
economic stimulus to financial reform to healthcare; the clashes between
Obama and more radical wings of his own party on the one hand, and the
pressures from a resurgent conservative populism on the other; the battles
between the White House, the Congress, and the Supreme Court. But for
those of us living in the moment, these battles were not only enormously
consequential for the fate of millions of Americans and their economic pros-
pects; they also cast into relief fundamental moral and structural questions
that will continue to shape American politics in the twenty-first century.
What does a good economy look like? How can aspirations for economic
freedom be reconciled with the realities of corporate power, finance, and
market forces? What political forces, groups, and institutions do we trust
to make these judgments and to govern the modern economy justly and
fairly? As the immediate economic crisis morphed into the long-running
Great Recession, these concerns were joined by another, more existential
one: Is America still a democracy at all, or has it become an oligarchy, where
the economic and political institutions alike serve the wealthy—and resist
all best efforts at reform?
As I began to dig deeper into the legal, historical, and normative ques-
tions around financial regulation, I gradually came into contact with a wide
community of scholars, activists, and practitioners studying American
political economy from different angles, and seeking avenues for creating a
more equitable and democratic economic order. Among scholars in fields
as diverse as legal history, American political development, the history of
capitalism, neorepublican political theory, participatory governance, and
empirical law and policy studies, the political battles of the Obama era
have helped accelerate a new wave of interdisciplinary studies of political
economy, examining how the American economy is constructed by law
and public policy over time, and how these features might be reformed
going forward. Among practitioners, I encountered an equally exciting
xi
Preface ( xi )
Books such as this do not “end”; they merely stop, called to a halt by
deadlines and practicalities—and by the need to share the ideas, however
tentative and provisional, with a wider range of interlocutors and (in all
likelihood) critics. I have no doubt that the ideas in this book will continue
to evolve and change. But I hope that in their current form they can offer
some insight, inspiration, and a starting point for further debate, research,
and reform.
Brooklyn, New York.
January 2016.
xiii
AC KNOW L E DG M E N T S
I must thank the many friends, advisors, supporters, and interlocutors who
have made this book possible. A multi-year project such as this cannot be
the work of one person; it is necessarily a product of a community. And
though I alone bear the responsibility for any errors or shortcomings of this
book, the credit such as may be due, is shared.
Early drafts of the book were presented at various venues. Chapter 2 was
presented at the “Beyond the New Deal Order” conference at UC Santa
Barbara (October 2015). Chapter 3 was initially presented at the American
Political Science Association annual convention in 2013. Portions of
Chapter 4 were presented at the Society for U.S. Intellectual History
conference in October 2015, and previously published in “Democracy
Against Domination: Contesting Economic Power in Progressive and
Neorepublican Political Theory,” Contemporary Political Theory (2016).
Chapter 6 was presented at the Harvard University Legal History Workshop
(February 2013), and the American Association of Law Schools annual
convention ( January 2014).
Thanks to Dave McBride, Katie Weaver, Oxford University Press, and
two anonymous reviewers for shepherding this manuscript through pub-
lication and providing great feedback that improved the work dramati-
cally. Thanks to Aaron Taylor-Waldman for excellent cover design. Eric
Beerbohm, Jerry Frug, Nancy Rosenblum, and Michael Sandel guided
this project from its earliest stages, and above all gave me the license and
encouragement to explore. I am grateful to several mentors and teachers at
Harvard, each of whom helped shape this project in different ways, espe-
cially: David Barron, Tomiko Brown-Nagin, Dan Carpenter, Chris Desan,
Archon Fung, Lani Guinier, Peter Hall, Mort Horwitz, Alex Keyssar, James
Kloppenberg, Ken Mack, Martha Minow, David Moss, Joe Singer, Dennis
Thompson, Richard Tuck, Adrian Vermeule, and Cass Sunstein. As I began
to engage with the legal academic community outside of Harvard first as a
post-doctoral fellow, and then as a junior faculty member, I was met with,
and am especially grateful for, the enthusiastic support and encouragement
xiv
of Bill Novak and Aziz Rana. Thanks as well to my new colleagues whose
critical engagement and feedback have helped bring this project to conclu-
sion, particularly: Joey Fishkin, Willy Forbath, David Grewal, Bob Hockett,
Herbert Hovenkamp, Alex Lee, Adam Levitin, Nelson Lichtenstein, Alice
O’Connor, Saule Omarova, Elizabeth Pollman, Jed Purdy, Morgan Ricks,
Brishen Rogers, Chuck Sabel, Karen Tani, and Zephyr Teachout.
I am also grateful for support from a number of research centers, work-
shops, and academic communities throughout the course of this project.
Thanks to John Cisternino, and the Tobin Project’s invaluable convening of
scholars of democracy and markets; the conveners and participants in the
Political Theory Workshop in the Harvard Government Department; the
Edmond J. Safra Center for Ethics and the Center for American Political
Studies at Harvard University; Akiba Covitz, Randy Kennedy, and the
Reginald Lewis Fellowship at Harvard Law School. Thanks to my col-
leagues at the Roosevelt Institute and New America, where I was fortunate
to be based as a fellow during parts of this project, especially Felicia Wong,
Alan Smith, Taylor Jo Isenberg, Dorian Warren, Mike Konczal, Andy Rich,
Barry Lynn, Mark Schmitt, Peter Bergen, and Reid Cramer. Thanks as well
to my new colleagues at Brooklyn Law School for creating such a dynamic
and vibrant intellectual community where I put the finishing touches on
this project.
In the later stages of this project, I was fortunate to become part of a
new effort to link academic research and reform advocacy through the
Gettysburg Project for Civic Engagement. Through this work, I gained a
deeper appreciation for the kinds of moral and institutional challenges fac-
ing economic and democratic freedom today; the tireless efforts of advo-
cates and reformers on the ground to create a more just and democratic
polity; and the ways in which historical and normative ideas can and must
have purchase in the real world. Thanks in particular to Archon Fung, Anna
Burger, Hollie Russon-Gillman, Hahrie Han, Xav Briggs, Marshall Ganz,
Jee Kim, Taeku Lee, Edward Walker, Michelle Miller, George Goehl, and
Ari Wallach.
One of the great joys of this work has been to discover and deepen
friendships along the way. Thanks to Peter Buttigieg, Tarun Chhabra,
Marissa Doran, Metin Eren, Scott Grinsell, Ben Kabak, Michael Lamb,
Justin Mutter, Beth Pearson, Ryan Rippel, John Santore, Ganesh Sitaraman,
and Kenny Townsend, who from New York to Oxford to Cambridge and
onward have been an ongoing inspiration in the search for a more progres-
sive future. At Harvard, I was lucky to find a community of friends and
extraordinarily creative thinkers who shared in the commitment to the role
that political theory can and ought to play in the world, including Oliver
Bevan, Jonathan Bruno, Josh Cherniss, Matt Landauer, Adam Lebovitz,
xv
Acknowledgments ( xv )
CH A P T E R 1
Democracy, Domination,
and the Challenge of
Economic Governance
I n 1892 in Omaha, Nebraska, the upstart People’s Party held its first
national convention to challenge the major political parties in the
upcoming elections. Originating with the Texas Farmers’ Alliance, the
People’s Party had grown rapidly as a movement of rural farmers and work-
ers, increasingly anxious about corporate power, financial elites, economic
inequality, and political corruption. The convention adopted a manifesto
self-consciously styled as a “Second Declaration of Independence.” Where
Jefferson crafted his famous statement in opposition to the tyranny of
King George, the Populists (as they were colloquially known) saw as their
primary villains private and economic sources of domination. For these
reformers, mega-corporations like Standard Oil and the railroads, and eco-
nomic elites like J. P. Morgan controlled the economy for their own benefit.
The Populists also feared that such economic power was corrupting politics
itself, as these actors co-opted parties and the machinery of government
for their own interests. But like the Founders, the Populists argued that for
liberty to be restored, such domination had to be checked through the crea-
tion of new political—and democratic—institutions. Their manifesto was a
surprisingly modern call for expansive governmental regulation, from pub-
lic ownership of railroads and finance to greater antitrust regulation and
new social insurance programs. They also called for new democratic institu-
tions like ballot referenda and direct party primaries as a check on political
corruption.
These ideas were not limited to the Populists. Urban Progressive reform-
ers shared many of these views. The problem of private power animated
2
Corporations, economic elites, and even market forces themselves all exer-
cise a kind of unchecked power over others in the economy. The purpose of
governance in this view is to curtail such forms of economic power, subject-
ing these seemingly powerful and diffuse economic forces to democratic
oversight and control.
This focus on domination points to the need for a range of struc-
tural, power-shifting reforms to our economy—for example through
measures to undo concentrations of power such as antitrust limits on
mega-corporations, social insurance schemes to insulate individuals
from market pressures, or the creation of public utilities to ensure pub-
lic oversight over critical industries. The idea of domination suggests
economic regulation that, rather than prioritizing growth or efficiency,
instead highlights the central moral and political challenge of reform-
ing the basic structure and distribution of economic power to limit the
ability of some actors—w hether they are mega-corporations or more
diffuse “market forces”—to arbitrarily interfere with the life chances of
others.
Second, if our current economic pathologies are rooted in disparities of
economic and political power, then we must find solutions not just in eco-
nomic policy changes, but also through building a more equitable, inclu-
sive, and responsive democratic system. Democracy, on this view, connotes
a constructive, positive commitment to expanding agency, investing in the
institutions, civil society associations, and practices that make possible col-
lective political action.
Just as the domination angle pushes us to reconsider how we address
problems of economic policy, this agency angle pushes us to reconsider
the scope and dynamics of our democratic institutions. Expanding agency,
I argue, entails more than just ensuring voting rights and addressing prob-
lems of campaign finance. It also means reworking policymaking bodies
like regulatory agencies—the institutions most responsible for the daily
business of governing—to affirmatively enhance the countervailing power
of ordinary citizens. By citizens, I refer not to the legal and often exclusion-
ary notion of citizenship that has historically excluded women, minorities,
migrants, or the poor; instead I use “citizenship” as a moral and inclusive
status that applies to everyone. As moral beings deserving equal stature,
we are all citizens who therefore deserve equal voice in political and eco-
nomic arrangements. From this viewpoint, “good governance” is not about
expertise or efficiency, but rather about inclusion, about ensuring that
the full range of affected stakeholders have a say and exercise real power.
Democratic mechanisms, must encompass more than voting or public
opinion to also require additional techniques for assuring equal and inclu-
sive voice, whether through representation on decision-making bodies or
4
optimal economic order on its own. But Landis was equally critical of the
“inadequacy” of traditional institutions of governance: Neither Congress
nor the courts possessed the knowledge or deliberative capacities to make
such complex economic policies.8 Such a task demanded the expert hand
of regulators positioned in institutions like the SEC, insulated from the day-
to-day pressures of democratic politics. The professionalism, expertise, and
transparency of regulatory policy would, according to Landis, be more than
sufficient to ensure that the regulators employed their vast authority for the
public good.
Landis’ account captures in its most aggressive form what we can call
a “managerial” approach to economic governance. From Progressive Era
thinkers like Charles Francis Adams to New Dealers like James Landis, to
contemporary advocates of the regulatory state like Stephen Breyer and
Cass Sunstein, this managerial approach to economic governance embod-
ies a commitment to a more active role for government in the economy, not
just in ensuring basic rights of property and contract, but also in correct-
ing market failures, mitigating risks, and protecting vulnerable populations
through public policies, social insurance schemes, and other kinds of reg-
ulation. This framework doubts that disaggregated and decentralized insti-
tutions like the market can on their own yield socially optimal economic
allocations and arrangements. But this vision also doubts the applicability
of conventional democratic policymaking bodies and mechanisms—from
parties to voting to legislation—in the context of complex economic issues.
Rather, the public good requires the creation of specialized institutions
where uniquely expert or talented policymakers can, through the judicious
use of their knowledge and public-spiritedness, craft regulations so as to
promote the public good. This institutional vision calls for economic pol-
icy to be made through bodies that are centralized, expert-led, and politi-
cally insulated, free to make policy on the basis of morally neutral scientific
knowledge.
This vision of economic governance, however, rests almost entirely
on the faith in such expert management, dissociating the project of eco-
nomic regulation from the kind of moralized and popular mobilizations
characteristic of pre–New Deal social movements responding to the first
Gilded Age. This faith is exactly what critics of economic regulation have
historically denied: the notion that individuals wielding political power
can be reconciled with individual freedom and can act effectively, respon-
sibly for the public good, rather than being captured or subverted by pri-
vate interests. For all its virtues, the idea of managerialism is therefore
surprisingly brittle, uniquely vulnerable to this rival vision of economic
governance: laissez-faire.
8
While usually seen as clashing views of state and market, the laissez-faire
and managerial visions share a surprising commonality: Both evince a
deep distrust of democratic politics as a viable and effective mode of gov-
erning the modern economy. Markets present themselves as natural forces
to which we as individuals must adapt; they are driven by laws of nature
beyond the reach of human agency. This makes them apolitical—or even
anti-political: immune to alteration, lobbying, or corruption, and therefore
more reliable as guarantors of social welfare. Managerialism presents itself
in a similar manner: By removing policy decisions from the reach of demo-
cratic politics, the appeal to expert management depoliticizes these issues,
10
Language: English
NEW YORK
MOFFAT, YARD AND COMPANY
1920
Copyright, 1920, by
MOFFAT, YARD AND COMPANY
Printed in the United States of America
THE WILD FAWN
THE WILD FAWN
I
Mrs. Carter looked up from her breakfast and glanced anxiously at
the clock.
“I wonder where that postman can be!” she exclaimed fretfully. “He’s
always late nowadays.”
“Nonsense!” retorted her husband, unfolding his newspaper. “It’s
because you want a letter from William. The postman will be along
all right.”
Mrs. Carter sighed. She could not understand the gap in her son’s
correspondence. William was her eldest and the pride of her heart.
At twenty-seven he had been a success in business. He had
dominated the family, advising his stout, deliberate father,
overwhelming his lame brother Daniel, and bossing the two younger
children, Leigh and Emily, until, goaded to frenzy, first one and then
the other of the worms turned. As the only girl in the family, Emily
reached the limit of her endurance long before Leigh came into the
battle as a feeble second.
But not even Emily could stem the tide of Mrs. Carter’s devotion to
her first-born. It had cost her many a sleepless night when, more
than a year ago, William Henry Carter had been selected by a well-
known mercantile firm to go to Japan. It had been a crowning
opportunity for William; to his mother it was a source of mingled
pride and anguish. She packed his trunk with unnumbered socks
and collar-buttons—she was sure he couldn’t get them in Japan—
and she smuggled in some jars of strawberry jam, “the kind that dear
Willie always loved.”
Afterward her only solace had been his letters. She overlooked his
ungrateful wrath when the jam jars broke into the socks, and fell
back on her pride in his continuing success, and on the fact that he
had been permitted to come home via the Mediterranean, and was
to act for his firm in Paris.
Now, after an absence of fourteen months, he might be home at any
moment; but there had been a gap in the correspondence—no
letters for more than two months. The maternal anxiety would have
communicated itself to the family, if it had not been that William’s
company had heard from the young man in the interim, and could
assure the anxious Mr. Carter that his son was well and doing
business with eminent talent and success. Mr. Payson, the head of
the establishment, lived in town, and he was liberal in his praise.
Mrs. Carter’s mind dwelt upon this with a feeling of maternal pride,
still tempered with anxiety, when she became aware that Emily and
Leigh were quarreling openly because of the latter’s unfeeling
remark that a girl with a snub nose and freckles should never do her
hair in a Greek knot.
“It’s enough to make a cat laugh,” said Leigh. “What have you got to
balance that knob on the back of your head?”
“Leigh, dear, don’t plague sister so,” Mrs. Carter remonstrated mildly.
“As if a boy like Leigh knew anything about a girl’s hair!” cried Emily
indignantly. “It’s a psyche-knot.”
Leigh laughed derisively; but at this moment, when the quarrel had
become noisy enough to disturb Mr. Carter, it was interrupted by the
entrance of the morning mail. Miranda, the colored maid of all work,
appeared with a replenished coffee-pot and a letter for Mrs. Carter.
The anxious mother gave a cry of joy.
“My goodness—it’s from Willie!”
The interest became general, and five pairs of expectant eyes
focussed on Mrs. Carter as she opened the envelope, her fingers
shaking with eagerness. Miranda, to whom the fifth pair of eyes
belonged, became unusually attentive to Daniel, and insisted on
replenishing his coffee-cup.
“This was written in Paris,” Mrs. Carter exclaimed eagerly, “and—and
posted in New York! I wonder! ‘Dear mother,’” she began reading
aloud, her voice tremulous with joy, “‘I’m coming home on the
Britannic, and I’m bringing you the—the——’”
She stopped short, her mouth open like a fish’s, and a look of horror
glazing the rapture in her eyes.
There was a profound and expectant pause. Daniel, the least
interested member of the group, managed to drink his hot coffee with
apparent relish, and sixteen-year-old Emily ate a biscuit, but Mr.
Carter, who had laid down his newspaper to listen, became
impatient.
“What’s the matter, mama?” he asked peevishly. “You look scared. Is
William going to bring you a crocodile from the Nile?”
Mrs. Carter rallied.
“N-no, not exactly—that is——” She looked absently at the maid.
“Miranda, go down to the ice-box and look it through. Let me know
just what’s left over. I’ve got to ’phone to the market immediately.”
“Yes’m.”
Miranda, descrying a sensation from afar, retired reluctantly. She
couldn’t hear quite as well in the kitchen entry when all the windows
were open.
Mrs. Carter waited until the pantry door closed behind the maid; then
she turned her horrified eyes upon her family.
“William’s married!” she gasped.
“Married?” echoed Mr. Carter angrily. “You’re crazy! William’s got too
much sense. You haven’t read it straight. Give me that letter!”
He stretched out a fiercely impatient hand, but Mrs. Carter ignored
his order.
“Listen! I did read it right. I know my own boy’s writing. I’ll read it
aloud—listen!”
Mr. Carter thumped the table.
“Why in thunder don’t you read it, then? We’re listening! Of all the
crazy notions! Married—you’ll find it’s ‘meandered.’ Go ahead!”
Mrs. Carter rallied her forces again, aware that Daniel and Leigh and
Emily were gaping in amazed incredulity. She turned the letter over
to the first page, caught her breath, and began.
“‘Dear mother,’” she read again, unsteadily this time, “‘I’m coming
home on the Britannic, and I’m bringing you the sweetest daughter-
in-law in the whole world. Her name is Fanchon la Fare, and she’s
the cleverest, the dearest, the most devoted girl in France. I can’t tell
you how beautiful she is, but you’ll fall in love with her at first sight—
just as I did. She’s small, “just as high as my heart,” mother, and
she’s got the eyes of a wild fawn——’”
“Wild fawn—thunder!” ejaculated Mr. Carter, unable to restrain
himself. “Give me that letter!”
This time Mrs. Carter surrendered it. She passed it down via Daniel,
who was looking unusually pale. His face startled her, and, while Mr.
Carter was reading the letter, she met her second son’s eyes. They
gave her another shock.
“Dan,” she whispered in an awe-struck voice, “I—do you think he
was engaged to—to——”
She mouthed a name, unable to finish her sentence under the young
man’s look. Daniel frowned, his white lips closing in a sharp line, but
Emily spoke up unabashed.
“Willie’s engaged to Virginia Denbigh. She’s got his ring. I’ve seen it
on her finger.”
“Oh, Emily!” her mother sank back in her chair, feeling weaker than
ever. Her boy, her Willie! She couldn’t believe that he would do
anything like that. She shook her head indignantly at Emily. “Hush!”
she whispered.
“He is, too!” her daughter insisted. “Why, mama, you know he is!”
Mrs. Carter cast a miserable glance at her husband, who was still
reading the letter. He was a big, broad-shouldered man, with a ruddy
face and bristling gray hair. Although usually a man of fairly equable
temperament, his expression at the moment was almost ferocious.
He had grown very red, and his eyebrows were bushed out over the
bridge of his nose in a scowl that transformed him.
Leigh nudged the unsympathetic Emily under the table.
“Gee, look at father!” he murmured.
Emily, who had resumed her breakfast, nodded with her mouth full.
She had played the trump card, and she was quietly observing
Daniel. He was as white as a sheet, she thought, and those big eyes
of his had a way of smoldering.
“It’s because he’s had a bad night, I suppose,” Emily mused, “or else
——”
She speculated, gazing at him; but she did not arrive at any
conclusion. She was interrupted by a furious sound from the foot of
the table. It was fortunately smothered, but it had the rumble of an
approaching tornado.
“The young donkey!” Mr. Carter exclaimed aloud. “My word, I thought
William Carter had sense!”
Mrs. Carter’s amiable, distressed face emerged a little from behind
the big silver hot-water urn which had descended in the family, along
with a Revolutionary sword and the copper warming-pans.
“Can you find out anything, Johnson?” she asked faintly. “I—I can’t!
He doesn’t even say where they were married or—or anything.”
“Married in a lunatic asylum, I suppose,” Mr. Carter returned fiercely.
“He says—as plain as can be—that he hasn’t known the creature
three months!”
“Good gracious! I didn’t get as far as that, I——”
William’s mother stopped short; she was afraid of making matters
worse. Emily, who had stopped eating to listen, came suddenly to
the surface.
“Listen, mama! She’s French, isn’t she?”
“I—I suppose so, dear.” Mrs. Carter shuddered slightly. “I’m afraid
she is.”
“Then I don’t see how Willie did it in three months. I read somewhere
—in a magazine, I think—that it took months and months to court a
French girl, and both parents have to say ‘yes,’ and you’ve got to
have birth certificates, and the banns have to be posted for three
weeks, and even then you can’t do it in a hurry; you’ve got to have a
civil marriage and a religious marriage, and—and everything!”
“Good Lord, Emmy! How does a fellow run away with his best girl?”
Leigh asked.
“He can’t!” Emily, having the floor, held it proudly. “He just can’t! It
wouldn’t be legal; he’s got to have his birth certificate.”
“Humph!” Mr. Carter glared over the top of William’s letter at his wife.
“William didn’t happen to carry his birth certificate hung around his
neck, did he?”
Mrs. Carter shook her head, her eyes fixed on Emily. For the first
time she felt it was to be her portion to hear wisdom from the mouths
of babes and sucklings.
“Emmy, are you sure you read all that?” she inquired anxiously.
“Of course she did, mother,” said Daniel, speaking for the first time,
his low, deep voice breaking in on the shrill excitement of the family
clamor. “It’s French law.”
That settled it. Daniel had studied law in old Judge Jessup’s office,
and there was nothing in law, domestic and international, that Judge
Jessup didn’t know. Mr. Carter turned his distorted countenance
upon his second son.
“Is that really a fact, Dan?”
Dan nodded. He was not eating. He had thrust aside an almost
untouched breakfast. The hand that he stretched out now for a glass
of water was a little unsteady, but his father did not notice it. Mr.
Carter was scowling at the letter again.
“It’s as plain as day here, he’s known her less than three months.
Take three weeks for the banns out of that, and you get seven or
eight weeks. The young donkey! Where were her people, I’d like to
know?”
Mrs. Carter gasped. Horrible thoughts had been assailing her from
the first, and she could no longer suppress them.
“D-do you think she can be respectable?” she quavered tearfully.
Mr. Carter was mute. He had no adequate language in which to
express his own views upon that point, but his gloomy look was
eloquent.
There was a horrible pause. Leigh and Emily exchanged glances.
There was a little satisfaction in hers; she had exploded a bombshell
second only to William’s letter, and now she interrupted her father’s
forty-second perusal of that document.
“Papa,” she said in her solemn young voice, “Willie was engaged to
Virginia Denbigh, and I don’t believe she’s broken it off at all!”
“Hush up, Emmy!” cried Daniel angrily. “Leave Virginia Denbigh out
of it. You’ve no right to talk about her. William’s married!”
“I guess I’ve got a right to tell the truth!” Emily flared up. “Willie was
engaged to Virginia Denbigh up to last week—and I know it!”
But, to her surprise, it was Leigh who broke out suddenly.
“What does it matter?” he cried. “If William’s fallen in love at first
sight, he can’t help it, can he? It’s too much for a fellow, isn’t it?
When a man sees a woman he loves at first sight—it’s—it’s like a
tornado, it bowls him over!”
“Eh?”
Mr. Carter turned and stared at his youngest son. So did his mother.
Leigh was a high-school boy preparing for college. Emily, blond and
snub-nosed and honest, had missed beauty by the proverbial inch
that’s as good as a mile, but Leigh was a handsome boy. He had the
eyes of a girl, too.
“Love at first sight?” bellowed Mr. Carter, getting his breath. “What
d’you know about it, you—you young idiot?”
Leigh reddened, but he held his ground.
“I know—how I’d feel,” he replied hotly.
“Oh, Leigh!” his mother smiled indulgently. “You’re such a child!”
“I’m not!” he retorted with spirit. “I’m eighteen—I’m a man!”
Emily giggled provokingly, and Mr. Carter struck the table with his
fist.
“Shut up!” he roared. “I’ve got one donkey—I don’t want another!
What did you say, Emily?”
“I said Willie was engaged to Virginia Denbigh and——”
Daniel, with a suppressed groan of anger, rose from the table; but
his father stopped him.
“Wait!” he said sharply. “I want to get the stuffing out of this. What do
you mean, Emily?”
“I mean just exactly what I say, papa,” cried his daughter, giving
Daniel a look of triumph. “Virginia’s got Willie’s ring on the third finger
of her left hand, and he wrote her letters—love-letters—from Japan. I
guess I know; I saw her reading one. I guess any girl could tell that!”
“You’re nothing but a child!” Mr. Carter exclaimed angrily, but he was
searching back in his own mind. He had always planned this match
between his favorite son and Virginia Denbigh, and Emily’s words
went home. He reddened. “Dan, do you know anything about this?”
he demanded, turning on his son.
Daniel, who was standing with his hand on the back of his chair, just
as he had risen, averted his eyes.
“I’d rather not say anything about it, father,” he replied after a
moment. “It’s—it’s not fair to Miss Denbigh, is it, to discuss it?”
His father, who had been observing him narrowly, thrust William’s
letter into his pocket.
“I see it’s true,” he remarked dryly, “Emily’s got more candor than you
have, that’s all.”
Daniel made no reply to this. He reached for his cane and moved
silently toward the door, aware of Emily’s cryptic gaze.
Mr. Carter, meanwhile, broke out stormily again, striking the edge of
the table.
“I’m ashamed of William!” he growled. “My son—and no sense of
honor! I—I’d like to thrash him!”
No one replied to this. Daniel opened the door, went out, and closed
it gently behind him. In the pause they heard his slow, slightly halting
tread as he went across the hall to the front porch and descended
the steps. As the last echo of his footsteps died away, Emily turned
to her father.
“Why, papa, didn’t you know why Dan wouldn’t tell about Willie and
Virginia?” she asked wisely.
Her father cast a startled look at her, his eyes still clouded with wrath
and mortification.
“No. Why?”
Emily smiled across at Leigh.
“Dan’s in love with Virginia himself, and Willie cut him out. That’s
why!”
Mr. Carter stared at her with exasperation. She was going a little too
far, and her annihilation was impending when Mrs. Carter suddenly
uttered a cry of horror. She had picked up the newspaper. It was
local, but it often copied bits from the New York dailies, when the bits
were likely to interest the town.
“Oh, good gracious, here’s a marriage notice from a New York
paper!” she cried, pointing it out with a shaking forefinger: “‘William
Henry Carter and Fanchon la Fare.’ Papa, they weren’t married until
they got to New York—the very day Willie posted that letter!”
Mr. Carter snatched the paper from her hand and read the notice;
then he slammed it down on the table with a violence that made all
the dishes rattle. He was fairly choking with rage now.
“Came over on the steamer with him, of course!” he shouted. “You
get the idea, mama? A French girl! Came over on the same steamer
—seven—nine days at sea—and got married in New York. My word!”
he fairly bellowed. “What kind of a daughter-in-law d’you think we’ve
got? I ask you that!”
“Oh, papa—sh!” gasped his wife weakly. “Think of these children
——”
“Sh?” he shouted. “Sh? With this thing out in black and white? D’you
think people haven’t got eyes? The whole town’ll read it—trust ’em
for that! French laws—birth certificates—banns—chaperons—I’d like
to see ’em—wow!”
There was a crash of china, and Mrs. Carter rose and fairly thrust
Leigh and Emily out of the room. For the first time in her experience
with him, Mr. Carter had become volcanic.
II
Daniel Carter, having left the family conclave so abruptly,
descended the steps to the garden-path and walked slowly—almost
painfully, it appeared—to the gate.
He was a tall young man of twenty-five, thin from long suffering, and
a little angular, and he was lame. He was not using a crutch now. Dr.
Barbour had succeeded in alleviating the old trouble and Daniel
could do very well with a walking-stick. But his face, pale and hollow-
cheeked, showed the lines of old suffering, and to-day there were
dark rings around his fine eyes. The fact was that, at that moment,
his heart was beating so heavily that its clamor seemed to fill his
ears. A strange thing had befallen him. He had been stricken with
horror and anguish at an insult to one he loved, and—almost at the
same instant—he had felt a wild, unreasoning relief. It would not do,
he must not let his mind dwell upon it. The habit of repression, the
habit of endurance, the older habit of suffering, came to his aid. He
set his teeth and walked straight out of the front gate and down to
the end of the street. Then he paused almost unconsciously,
because this spot, at the side of a hill, gave him a wide view of the
town, and he often stopped here a moment on his way to and from
Judge Jessup’s office, just to catch this glimpse of his native hills.
The poet in Daniel loved this view.
The sun was on the hills to-day, except where the shadow of a
passing cloud moved across the wide vista like a pillar of smoke to
guide the wayfarers toward the Promised Land. The sun shone, too,
on the roofs of the houses that clustered at Daniel’s feet, and it
caught the gilt on a cross-crowned spire and flashed it against the
background of the trees. The only vivid thing, it seemed, in the whole
scene, where the gray of old shingled roofs and the sober tints of the
time-worn houses blended with the greens and browns of nature. For
it’s an old town, nestled in the hills, at the southern edge of one of
the Middle States. A State, by the way, that is a good deal more
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