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Updated: June 7, 2025
"Yes, Judge Rossmore is such a man. He is one of the few men in American public life who takes his duties seriously. In the strictest sense of the term, he serves his country instead of serving himself. I am no friend of his, but I must do him that justice." He spoke sharply, in an irritated tone, as if resenting the insinuation of this vulgarian that every man in public life had his price.
Perhaps they had not believed these stories. It was only natural. He had not believed them himself. But he had taken the trouble to inquire into the matter very carefully, and he regretted to say that the stories were true. In fact, they were no longer denied by Judge Rossmore himself. The directors looked at each other in amazement.
Rossmore had climbed the stairs to see that everything was as it should be in the room which had been prepared for Shirley. It was not, however, without a passage at arms that Eudoxia consented to consider the idea of an addition to the family. Mrs. Rossmore had said to her the day before: "My daughter will be here to-morrow, Eudoxia."
He suddenly threw off the mask and revealed the tempest that was raging within. He leaned across the desk, his face convulsed with uncontrollable passion, a terrifying picture of human wrath. Shaking his fist at his son he shouted: "When I get through with Judge Rossmore at Washington, I'll start after his daughter. This time to-morrow he'll be a disgraced man.
He had not been very long at home when Sellers arrived sodden with grief and booming with glad excitement working both these emotions successfully, sometimes separately, sometimes together. He fell on Hawkins's neck sobbing, and said: "Oh, mourn with me my friend, mourn for my desolate house: death has smitten my last kinsman and I am Earl of Rossmore congratulate me!"
Jefferson had met Shirley Rossmore two years before at a meeting of the Schiller Society, a pseudo-literary organization gotten up by a lot of old fogies for no useful purpose, and at whose monthly meetings the poet who gave the society its name was probably the last person to be discussed.
"Jeff, my boy," said the financier, releasing Shirley and putting her hand in his son's, "I've done something you couldn't do I've convinced Miss Green I mean Miss Rossmore that we are not so bad after all!" Jefferson, beaming, grasped his father's hand. "Father!" he exclaimed. "That's what I say father!" echoed Shirley.
"Poor fellow," sighed Hawkins; "and he had friends so near. I wish we hadn't come away from there maybe we could have saved him." The earl looked up and said calmly: "His being dead doesn't matter. He was uncertain before. We've got him sure, this time." "Got him? How?" "I will materialize him." "Rossmore, don't don't trifle with me. Do you mean that? Can you do it?"
His daughter Shirley, who was his greatest friend and comfort, was then in Europe. She had gone to the Continent to rest, after working for months on a novel which she had just published. His wife, entirely without experience in business matters and somewhat of an invalid, was helpless to advise him. But to his old and tried friend, ex-Judge Stott, Judge Rossmore explained the facts as they were.
But he had always watched Rossmore's career, and when he was made a judge of the Supreme Court at a comparatively early age he was sincerely glad. If anything could have convinced Roberts that success can come in public life to a man who pursues it by honest methods it was the success of James Rossmore.
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